#none of my shit is beta read

[poisonousquinzel]

this is me when i'm on here talking about fighting folks btw

[inked-out-trees]

happy 3000 to band(it)!

to be honest i haven't thought about it for quite some time, but as i was going through my stats page a few weeks ago I noticed it was close, and well - lo and behold. thought maybe it was time for a little introspection.

in some ways it feels like the person who wrote that fic is so far divorced from the person who now commandeers thespiritscalling and writes tens-of-thousands-word aus on silly theatre stuff. some things change, some don't, etc - it's been such a wild amount of time since i even consumed newsies content at all. for one, i actually plan fics now and finish them before posting (the idea of writing myself into a corner and having it all published is horrifying, what was i thinking!!) and real moments slip in more subtly. even so i can read my dedication to hope and family inside this, even when i hadn't yet discovered that it would permeate every bit of me, and i must say it's quite comforting. knowing that those band camp shenanigans are somewhat immortalized and things are - at least for them - frozen in a state of hope and wellness.

i never got to finish my final year at band camp. i was there for about three days until a personal event brought me home again and soured summers for years to come. so in a way, band(it) was my last version of that camp. i find that just a little bit poetic. all the goofies that happened (and the many more that were just fantasies... how i wish spy day had been a real thing) now exist to remind me of the goodnesses, the exhilirations, and the overwhelming love inside those campus walls. so that's pretty cool.

anyway, thanks to band(it) for kickstarting my romance of multichapter fics, featuring my first (but not last and never only) self-insert npc because i'm self-indulgent like that, and as always helping me flex my word skills. love always.

[blitzyn]

stop moving

re4r leon s. kennedy x m!reader

request: none

synopsis: After finding yourself stuck in a closet with Leon, you end up squirming just a little too much.

a/n -> i have fallen victim to the leon lover rabbit hole. ALSO. I FUCKING FRACTURED MY FINGER??? guys i almost cried when i had to write the word balls. </3 but thank you all for 1k followers! tbh i only started this acc because i liked the font when i wrote something in my drafts lmao. but still! it means a lot to me and im happy to have gotten this far!

wc -> 2.5k

cw -> thigh fucking, hiding in a closet, spit as lube, handjob (r receiving), pet names (baby x2, sweetheart x1), he's kinda possessive tbh, not beta read

This was supposed to be relatively simple: get in, figure out where the president's daughter was, save her, then get out. Sure, you've seen your fair share of weird shit — especially after the outbreak in Raccoon City, but finding out that there was a whole religion dedicated to spreading a plague for the sake of taking over the world definitely takes the cake. For now, at least.

But finding yourself cramped in a closet with Leon, surrounded by a horde of hostile cultists, also wasn't something you expected to happen throughout the entire mission.

"Stop moving so much," Leon quietly muttered from behind you just as you shifted.

"I'm not," you huffed, a bit annoyed that you had to hide in this stuffy closet, even if you knew that you'd probably be dead by now if it weren't for your partner's quick thinking. Against his words, you adjusted yourself again, trying to find a decently comfortable position. Suddenly, you felt his hands on your hips and the warmth of his chest pressed to your back as he pulled you flush against him.

"I said, stop moving," he repeated, whispering in your ear. You held back a shudder at the feeling of his breath ghosting over the shell of it, stilling completely in surprise. Just then, thunderous footsteps could be heard outside the closet; slowly, listening for any sound that might reveal where the two of you hid.

You tensed and instinctively backed up to further yourself from the perpetrator, even if there wasn't much room to move to begin with. You could faintly hear Leon grunt from behind you, but you were in no position to apologize at the moment. Your eyes were glued to a crack in the old, wooden door, watching as the light shifted when the person passed by.

You waited with bated breath, hoping that it wouldn't come near. But, like some cliche horror movie, you could see the light at the bottom of the door disappear, meaning it was far too close for comfort. With every second the person stood there, the tighter Leon's hold on your hips became. The two of you went so silent your ears rang, and you were briefly afraid that it'd hear the sound of your racing heartbeat.

But after what felt like an eternity, its heavy footsteps started up again and away from the closet. You heaved a sigh of relief when the front door slammed shut, rendering the building empty once more.

"Fucking hell, sorry," you mumbled, trying to shuffle forward and give Leon his space when you realized that he hadn't let go of you yet. "You okay?"

Using the dim light that filtered through the cracks in the door, you lifted your arms a bit and curiously peered at his hands. But that's when you noticed the black lines covering his arms. Upon closer inspection, you quickly realized that they were his veins.

"Christ, Leon, what—"

"Be quiet. Just—just for a second."

You found it hard to tear your eyes away from his arms, waiting in silence. You focused on the sound of his labored breaths, biting your tongue to keep yourself from questioning him even further. Your mind couldn't help the invasion of 'What happened?' and 'What is that?' that threatened to spill from your lips. How did you not notice this earlier?!

You were pulled from your thoughts when you felt him rest his forehead on your shoulder, muttering and grunting under his breath. And that's when you felt it — the reason why he was so reluctant to move just yet: he was hard.

"Oh." You couldn't help it, even if he had already told you to shut your mouth twice already. The silence from then on was painfully awkward as the two of you tried to figure out what to say. With a deep breath, you miraculously found the courage to speak up.

"Do you... Can I help you?" You offered, remaining still to keep yourself from accidentally pressing yourself up against him again. It was silent while you waited for his reply, embarrassment wriggling its way through your chest the longer the two of you kept quiet.

"I mean, you don't have to accept, you can just ignore me—" you began to ramble on, mortified that you even asked the question. "I just thought, cause, like, it'll be hard for you to—shit, I didn't mean it like that—"

"[Name]," Leon interrupted you, finding your instant silence charming in its own way. You could hear him take a deep breath in just as his hands slid further up to firmly caress your waist and abdomen. Electricity shot down your spine and pooled in your gut when he tugged you closer to him, grinding himself against your ass. "You can."

He reached for your hand and brought it behind you, placing it directly onto his cock. You gave it a tentative squeeze, savoring the quiet grunt that came from him, feeling your confidence grow by the second. You heard the gentle jingling of his belt as he undid it just enough for you to dip your hand underneath the waistband of his pants and boxers.

"Not wasting a second, huh?" Amusement and lust were laced in his voice as he spoke, a quiet moan spilling from his lips soon after.

He was hot and thick in your hand, throbbing rhythmically. You swiped a finger over the tip that beaded precum, savoring the shudder that came from his body. His hips trusted up into your fist, seeking more, and you were more than happy to oblige.

With a steady pace, you moved your hand up and down, tracing the prominent veins. You felt your own cock twitch at the sound of Leon's breathy groans and sighs, but you ignored it in favor of getting him off.

"Fuuckk," he drawled out, leaning forward to press his lips on the side of your neck. "You're good at this. Makes me think you've done this typa thing before."

"No," you responded, gently rubbing the spot on the underside of the tip. "You're the only one."

"I get the special treatment?" He muttered teasingly, his breath hot against your skin. "Must be my lucky day."

He could feel his body buzzing with adrenaline as he peppered open-mouthed kisses on the side of your neck, untucking your shirt to slide a hand up your torso to pinch and toy with a nipple. His free hand traveled lower, slipping his cold fingertips underneath the waistband of your pants, but refused to go further than that.

You could feel his lips curl in a subtle smirk, but even as you realized he was teasing you, testing your patience, you had no intention to retaliate. Christ. The hold this man had on you. It was downright pathetic.

"God," he started, pressing his palm flat on your chest to bring you closer to him—eager for more of your touch. He let his teeth gently scrape against your skin, threatening to bite—to mark you, but he forced himself not to. He couldn't. Not right now. "I want to fuck you so bad."

His words were breathless, borderline desperate, as they left his lips. He couldn't help but thrust his hips up into your fist, pushing and pushing until your hand was flush against your ass, keeping you from jerking him off as he rutted against your hand.

"We can't, Leon," you muttered, disappointment lacing your voice. As much as you'd love to have him inside you, fucking you deep, you knew you couldn't. Not when the Ganados were still outside, at least. "Just let me finish you off."

Leon let out a low growl, knowing that you were right. There were a lot of things the two of you couldn't do inside the confined space of the closet, forcing him to conjure up ideas of what he wanted to do when all of this was over.

But for now, he settled on the second best option: your thighs.

"I know," he murmured, breathing in deeply as he pulled your hand away from his throbbing cock. "Then let me fuck your thighs. I'll be quick, I promise."

You mulled over his words, unsure if it would be a good idea.

"Please, baby," he pleaded, his voice heavy with lust. "Just this once. Then, when we find Ashley and get the hell outta this place, I'll make sure to fuck you properly. Nice 'n hard 'n deep. Wouldn't you like that?"

Fuck it.

"Mhm, yeah, go ahead." You relented, knees weakening at the thought of having his thick cock inside you, stretching and filling you up perfectly.

"Atta boy," he buried his thumbs underneath your pants and boxers, pulling them down to let them drop to your ankles. "Knew you'd come around."

He groaned at the sight of your bare thighs and drooling cock, running his hands along the curve of your ass to lean back and spread it, focusing his gaze on your asshole. "Fuck," he hissed. "Can't wait to feel your tight little hole around me later. Gonna fill you up with my cum, make you mine."

Arousal sank in your stomach like a rock as your hole clenched around nothing. Whatever's coursing through his veins made him more impulsive, more desperate, but with the fog that clouded your thoughts, you hardly found it in you to mind.

He spat on his cock and moved a hand away from your body to briefly jerk himself off and smear the saliva around.

"Open up, baby," he instructed as soon as he was done, raising his hand to caress your hip. "Spread your legs a little."

Like a trained puppy, you obeyed, widening your thighs just enough to let him guide his hard cock in between them. Your breath hitched at the sight of the head peeking out, squeezing your legs around him just a bit tighter.

"Jesus fuck, [Name]," he groaned, leaning forward to press his chest against your back. He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close to him. Through the hazy mess that was in your mind, you found comfort in the warmth and firmness of them as you placed your hands on his forearms for some sort of stability. "That's it. Squeeze me just like that."

You could feel every twitch and throb, and you were sure he could feel yours, too. It felt like your senses were on overdrive as you listened to your labored breaths, his pleased sighs and grunts, and the slick sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your thighs. He set a leisurely pace, rocking his hips back and forth.

"Shit..." He hissed, speeding up his thrusts as his dick rubbed against your balls, smearing his makeshift lube across your skin.

His hips met yours with quiet slaps, making sure to keep the noise level at a minimum despite the overwhelming urge to just bury himself inside you right then and there. He mouthed at the nape of your neck, tasting the salt of your skin, gently pressing his teeth down hard enough to send sparks down your spine.

His fingertips pressed into your sides so firmly it hurt, but it only served to mix in with the desire that burned brightly in your belly. He fucked your thighs with a sense of urgency, as if trying to satiate a hunger deep within his subconscious—not that you minded.

He grunted and groaned with every thrust, tightening his arms around your waist to tug you back to him whenever your hips jolted forward. It was intoxicating; the way he so effortlessly turned your body into a sensitive mess left you wanting more.

But as soon as a strong hand wrapped around your aching cock, you nearly came on the spot. One of your hands left Leon's forearm to slap it over your mouth as you tried to keep yourself from moaning too loud.

He breathily chuckled beside your ear. "Is this what you wanted?" He rhetorically questioned, swiping a finger over the leaking head so perfectly it left your skin tingling. "Tell me, sweetheart."

"Ohh, fuck," you hissed. It was embarrassing how you so eagerly responded to his touch. "Yeah, th-that's it...!"

Your eyes fluttered shut, focusing on the feeling of his slick cock moving in and out from between your thighs. Your lips parted from behind your hand to let out quiet pants and moans, digging your nails into his forearm the closer you got to your orgasm.

"Oh god, Leon—!" You moaned, pressing yourself further against his back. You could feel your legs faltering, but he didn't seem to mind having you rely on him to stand up.

"I know, baby, I know," he muttered, his voice tight and strained as his thrusts gradually grew sloppy and weak. "Me too."

His cock pulsed and twitched, and he can't help himself from clamping his teeth over the side of your neck this time. It wasn't hard enough to draw blood, but it left a noticeable bite mark that dully ached.

"Come on, baby, cum for me," he instructed, and you had no choice but to comply.

With a muffled moan, you arched your back and finally came as ropes of your semen coated the dusty wooden floor and Leon's fingers. He stroked you until he was sure that you were spent before letting go to chase after his own release.

"Shit," he cursed, breathing heavily. "I'm gonna cum so... so fucking hard...!"

With a strained groan, his hips jerked erratically as he came, holding you tight enough to leave bruises. You gently rub your thighs together, helping him ride out his high. It wasn't until a few moments later did he finally stop, breathing hard against your neck as he calmed down. But that's also when the clarity kicked in.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered, moving his head from you. "I'm sorry, I don't know what happened—I just—" he apologized, sighing in defeat a moment later.

"It's fine," you replied, patting his arm. You had to suppress a shudder when he pulled away from your thighs. The cum that ended up on the insides of them quickly cooled, leaving an uncomfortable sensation on your skin. You were just gonna have to suck it up.

"Let's just get outta here, already." You shuffled forward a bit to tug your pants back up your legs while Leon composed himself.

"Yeah," he said, pressing an arm against the dusty, wooden door. Through the dim light, you could see that his veins were no longer visible again, but that thought was going to have to hold off until later. "You ready?"

"Yup." You nodded after briefly making sure you still had everything in place.

Without further thought about what happened just a few seconds ago, Leon pushed the door open and quickly left the closet as you trailed close behind. Now, it was back to work.

[crashandlivewrites]

Spread Your Wings- Part 2

First off: thank you to @your-grace-the-raven-queen for being an amazing beta (and also because she gave my ass hell when I didn't tag her in the first part which was very wrong of me). We support beta readers in this house!

Pairing: PornStar!John Price x PornStar!fem!reader

CW: MDNI 18+ content, NSFW, porn industry innaccuracies, your manager being a cunt, things get a lil hot and steamy but no piv yet!!!

Word Count: 3.9k

< Part 1

Read on Ao3

An assistant stepped forward as the cameras stopped rolling, handing you both a couple of wet wipes before placing a towel on the floor, mopping up your mess. Scrubbing his beard with the wipe and tossing it aside, John then turned his attention to you, gently cleaning the inside of your sensitive thighs quickly and efficiently as he’d surely done hundreds of times before. 

“I can do it, it’s fine.” You murmured, hand reaching down as he moved higher up your thigh. He shushed you, shaking his head as he squeezed your arm tenderly. 

“S’alright, sweetheart. I got you. Just rest for me, yeah? We’re not done just yet.” He chuckled, glancing at your eyes to check on you yet again. The hand that wasn’t cleaning between your legs rose up to cup the back of your neck, thumb pressing gently against your skin. “Did it feel that good?” 

“Shut up, you know it did.” Lifting your head up, you focused on his cocky expression, his teasing smirk, his raised brow. Scoffing, you smacked him lightly on the chest, shaking your head as you did so. “You’re incorrigible!” 

“And you squirted. For real. None of that fake shit. I know for a fact Johnny didn’t get that out of you.”  The expression on your face morphed into a pout and he chuckled, tapping underneath your chin. “Don’t pout, sweets. I liked it. Like knowing I made you feel that good.” He tossed the wipe aside and rested both of his large hands on your thighs as he nestled between them. 

Drawing your lip between your teeth, you tipped your head to the side as you stared at him, eyes tracing over the attractive features of his face; the fullness of his cheeks, and the crow's feet around his eyes as he smiled kindly down at you. Your breathing had settled, your heart had calmed down, and so you pushed yourself up a little straighter. Your legs were still quite shaky, but you hooked them back around his hips as best you could, pulling him back into you, his brow cocked with interest. 

“Feeling better already? Mustn’t have done a good enough job then.” Grinning coyly at his words, you ran your hands up his chest, feeling the softness overlaying the firm muscle. 

“You definitely did a good enough job. But maybe I just want more.” It felt easy, natural almost, falling into this flirty banter with him. He’d made it that way with his own flirtatious words and lingering touches. He beamed at your words, nosing along the line of your jaw, inhaling deeply. 

“You know…” he mumbled into the skin of your neck, breath tickling you slightly. “Johnny was right about something. You smell fucking divine, sweet like cherries.” Cupping the back of your head, he tilted it slightly, exposing more of your neck to him as he breathed in deeply and pressed soft kisses along your neck. 

“Yeah?” Your voice was raspy as you felt yourself getting pulled back under the haze of arousal. Before he could respond, a pointed cough broke the intimate moment between the pair of you. John clicked his tongue, sucking in a breath as he pulled back to reveal your manager standing just off to the side expectantly. 

“Can we talk?” His tone was pinched, head jerking over his shoulder as his toe tapped impatiently, causing your body to tense in response. Clearly, John felt the tension, his hands moving to squeeze your shoulders as he faced the smaller man. 

“She’s still feeling a little shaky from the session. Whatever you need to talk to her about, you can say it here.” John turned to you, eyes both warm and serious.  “That good with you, sweets?”  You held his gaze giving a firm note before glancing at your manager’s narrowed eyes and raised eyebrow before the man turned his apathetic expression to you. 

“We’ve got a fair amount of marketable footage, but I’d like more vocals from you. There’s some good audio, I’d just like you to be a little louder, play it up for your audience, y’know?” John bristled at the words, fingers digging slightly into your body as he turned to the side. 

“I think she performed extremely well. Especially for my usual productions—”

“I’m trying to advance her career.” Your manager interrupted without a care, turning a pointed look at you. “Moaning out another man’s name isn’t going to attract people to watch your content. And you need to perform a little more for the camera, too.” 

You glanced between the two men, watching your oblivious manager blinking expectantly at you as John straightened, arms folding across his chest, his head tilting to the side. 

“She’s doing just fine.” He grits out, moving to lean on the bench between you and your manager. “I’m guessing that’s your first time hearing a woman really orgasm. Sounds a bit different than the produced shit you’re used to but let me tell you something.” John stepped forward again, using his height as an intimidation factor as he loomed over the other man. 

“Real shit like that is what keeps people coming back to watch it again and again. She’ll build up a loyal fanbase who appreciate the genuine content. Have a conversation with Kate. She’ll tell you my numbers.” 

“You’re a man. Women like the soft shit. Men don’t. Men wanna hear her cry out like a whore—” 

“I’m a man, aren’t I?” John’s voice was venomous, sending shivers down your spine as you watched the confrontation unfold, legs still feeling too unsteady to step between the men. “And I fucking adored hearing her cum like that.” 

Well, if that didn’t send a fresh wave of arousal directly into your still-wet underwear. 

Your manager simply sniffed, turning his nose up as he spat a final retort before he stalked off. 

“It’s her career anyway, not mine.” 

Snorting, John turned around, anger evident in his eyes and furrowed brow as he stepped back over towards you. His hands returned to rest on your hips as he nestled between your legs once more as you mumbled a soft thanks. 

“What’re you doing with a wanker like that, sweets? He won’t treat you right.” Shrugging, you leaned into him, head resting on his chest as you groaned in frustration. 

“Studio assigned him to me. He’s been alright for the most part, but he’s got a very fixed idea about what a porn star should be.” John hummed at your response, dipping down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head as his thumbs stroked mindless patterns just above the line of your underwear. 

“I’ll link you up with Kate after this, yeah? Give you a better standing in the field. She’s dedicated and will always advocate for your safety and preferences.” You blinked at him in disbelief, but his face seemed genuine. “Nothing to it, I swear. Lemme help you out, alright?”

And how could you say no to that? Not when he was looking down at you with a sharp glint in his eye, and his palm cupping your cheek. Your mouth parted, already leaning in to kiss him when he placed a thumb over your lips, halting your movements.

“You ready for round two, sweets?” You nodded, his thumb still pressed against your lips, just begging to be bitten. He glances over your shoulder with a gorgeous half smile.  “Nik? We’re ready.”   

Nikolai started getting the crew into position as John returned his gaze to you. “And you… don’t think about what that bastard said. With me, I want you to be real. Within reason, of course. Let me hear you moan my name as I kiss you, touch you, fuck you. Promise me that, sweets?” 

He’d enthralled you from the moment you’d first watched him on a whim. The snippet was something that had caught your eye on twitter and made you wet instantly. Here, with him standing before you, you were propelled back to that moment, feeling equally as enchanted. Lips parted slightly and eyes wide, you nodded. 

“Yes sir. Anything for you.” 

“Good girl. My good girl.” His possessive tone was backed up by his hands gripping at your body, pulling you close until your hips were flush with his. He claimed your mouth even before Nikolai had signalled the cameras were back up and running.

The kiss was all-consuming. His hand wrapping around the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he held you to him. Adjusting your leg, you dug a heel into his lower back, locking him into your body as you responded eagerly, hands clawing at his body. Though he was strong and broad, there was a certain softness to him that made it easier to grab eager handfuls of his body, even through the material of his shirt.

Sliding both hands underneath your rear, he lifted you off the counter, walking as he continued to kiss you. His tongue slid alongside yours, roaming and tasting every inch of your mouth as he cupped your ass, fingers digging into the flesh. 

You had no clue what he was planning to do next. All rational thoughts had left your brain. What remained had been taken over by the man you were currently wrapped around. Moaning softly into his lips, your nails scratched lightly at the back of his neck, egging him on. His hands gripped tighter as a deep rumble sounded in his chest. He sat down onto the couch, placing you on his lap so that your wet core was resting up against his prominent bulge. Unable to resist the allure of friction, you ground against him, moaning as you did so. 

Quickly, he took hold of your hair and pulled you back to look into your eyes. 

“Getting greedy now, are you?” He tipped his head to the side, eyes narrowing like a predator lining up his prey. “Ate that pussy out so nicely and now you’re just grinding on my lap like a desperate little thing?” 

He titters, palms sliding up your thighs to push up the satin slip once more, revealing your ass to the camera as his hands roam up your back. Your mouth kept opening, but nothing came out, his actions and words rendering you speechless. 

You knew you should say something, either banter back or be subservient to him for the good of the film, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. Not with the way he was staring at you, mock disappointment evident in his eyes. 

“Was gonna take this pretty little number off, but I think I’ll wait now. Make you beg for it.” One hand pulls back, reaching up to hold your jaw and pull you closer so he could whisper into your ear. “Want you to grind on my thigh until you’ve soaked the material through. Got it?” 

“Uh-huh.” You managed to get out, already shuffling to change positions, moving to straddle one of his thick, muscular thighs as he turned your head back to look at him.

“Words, pretty thing. Wanna hear that voice of yours.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good girl. Now get to it.” He slaps your ass playfully, not enough to make it sting, but enough to jerk you into action. 

Slotting your legs on either side of his thigh, you began a slow grind, dragging yourself along the rough material of his pants, feeling the wide expanse of his leg flex underneath you. Whining softly at the pleasurable tingle spreading through your body, you built a steady pace, your clit throbbing as it dragged down the length of his thigh. Reaching forward, you curl your fingers around his shoulder, nails digging into the firm flesh to stabilise yourself as you continue rocking. 

John was simply watching you, elbow up on the armrest of the couch and tilting his head against his closed fist. His eyes were dark and heady, trailing over your body, humming occasionally as he ran his free hand along your side. 

The touch spurred you on, rolling your hips faster as you felt heat slowly build in your abdomen.

“Good fucking girl. Keep going. Know you can do it.” He grinned lazily, leaning back and bouncing you on the leg you were riding, causing you to loudly cry out his name. 

“That’s it, sweets. Moan for me, cry for me.” Cooing softly at you, his hand reaching down to grip his hard length, pressing against the zipper of his jeans. “See what you do to me? See what my pretty wife makes me feel? Got me so fucking hard, love.” 

You couldn’t help as your eyes immediately trained on the sizeable bulge. You’d seen his cock before, obviously, through your screen at home. But here and now, you were going to see it in person. 

“John… fuck, more John, please. Wanna… I wanna…” With your head hazy from lust, you couldn’t form the sentence, instead choosing to lean forward and reach out, palming at his groin, hips jerking faster, cunt aching and empty as you felt the size of him. 

“You wanna see it, baby? Wanna see my cock?” He whispered into your ear, his heavy breathing fanning over your neck as he groaned, his own hips jolting slightly at the contact of your hand. “No, not yet… fuck, not yet sweets. Just wait a little bit longer f’me, yeah? Gonna make it worth the wait, love.”

He pulled away, removing your hand before placing his palms on either side, hoisting you up so you straddled his lap properly, feeling the hardness of his erection against your throbbing clit. Barely needing the guidance of his hands, you immediately resumed your grind, moaning desperately, arms linking behind his neck. Cursing under his breath, John’s fingers were digging into your thighs, joining in the rhythm now as you felt yourself edging closer yet again. 

Your panties were stuck to you, wetness surely leaking through to his jeans as you continued to rub yourself on him like someone first discovering how good grinding on something felt.

“Oh fuck yeah, pretty girl, just like that.” John rumbled deeply, head tipping forward to rest on your shoulder as his breathing came out in short pants. “Feel so fucking good grinding on my cock like this. This how you’re gonna ride me? Until your pussy’s drooling all over me and you can barely speak?” 

Tipping your head back and keening, you were completely enthralled with everything this man was doing to you. The feel of him under your body, the sound of his rough voice telling you just how good you were making him feel, the musky smell of him… everything. His mere presence could make you almost forget everything around you, the cameras, the set, the crew all melting into nothing as you were set alight. Nodding deliriously was all you could manage now, hands gripping tightly around him as you leaned forward, your chest nearing his face. 

Groaning, John latched onto your nipple, teeth and tongue swirling around the stiff bud through the satin of the dress you were wearing. Growling in frustration, his hands left your hips, gripping the neckline of the slip dress and tearing it down the middle. Your noise of surprise was cut off as he pushed you back to arm's length, halting your movements, his pupils dark and dilated as he stared hungrily at your exposed body. 

“Jesus, sweetheart. You have any idea how goddamn gorgeous you are? How fucking immaculate your tits are?”

“My husband does seem to tell me that from time to time.” You teased, surprising even yourself with the line, making sure to run your hands up your now bare body to cup your breasts and squeeze them enticingly for both the camera and for him. John let out a low whistle, brow quirking and eyes sparking mischievously at your response, as if he also had almost forgotten he was at work right now. 

“Yeah, that’s right. You’re my fuckin’ wife. Mine. Aren’t you? Putting on this show just for me, aren’t you?” You nodded; eyes fixing on his during the last line. His gaze was intense, his hands were perched high on your thighs, squeezing ever so slightly. Your mind trailed back to moments earlier, just before you restarted filming, when he said he wanted you to be genuine. For him.

Swiping your tongue over your bottom lip, you ran your hands up his shirt, toying with the buttons. 

“I wanna see you, too.” You whispered, a little more sincerely, keeping your eyes level with him for a scarce moment before grinning cheekily, and tearing his shirt open. Buttons popped off, skittering along the tiled floor. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, love. You’re gonna drive me insane.” He grunts, eyes wide in shock at your assertiveness. But you don’t even get to admire his glorious, fuzzy chest as he leans up to reclaim your mouth, spanking your ass as he did so.

This kiss was different than before. This kiss was carnal, heated, and possessive with teeth biting down on your lip. The bristles of his beard scratching against the soft skin of your face while his palms hungrily slid over your body, tugging away the last of the torn fabric, leaving you only in your soaked underwear as you begin to grind down on him again. The pace was rough, fast, and needy. Greedy hands roamed bare skin, clutching and tugging in exploration as your tongues melded together similarly, seeking to map out every inch of one another before it was too late, and the moment between you two would be over. 

“Feels so good— oh my god— fuck, John, please!” The noises coming from your mouth were loud and frantic as you picked up the pace. As if to shut you up, John pressed two of his thick fingers into your mouth, tickling the back of your throat as he leaned in. 

“Suck ‘em for me. Show me how well you can take them. Get them nice and wet. Gotta put my fingers in you first, stretch out that tiny little cunt for my thick cock, yeah?” His breathing was ragged, coming out in harsh grunts as he continued to drive his hips up to meet yours. 

Moaning around his fingers, your eyes fluttered closed as you sucked them deep, tongue sweeping between the digits, spreading your saliva as he pressed the pads of his fingers on your tongue. His lips parted as he watched you, as though engraving every single one of your features into his mind.

“Yeah, that’s it, pretty girl. Suck my fingers as you grind against my cock. Picture it’s in your mouth and gimme a show.” Hearing the roughness in his tone and you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he was just as affected by you as you were by him, even if it was just in this moment.

Looking directly at him, lips swollen from his brutal kiss earlier, you began bobbing your head along the length of his fingers, sucking and swirling your tongue around his digits, craving something else in your mouth. The feral glint in his eyes spurring you on, taking them all the way down. Blinking back tears from your lashes, you swallowed around his fingers, choking slightly which set him off. 

Swearing under his breath, John pulled his fingers from your mouth, placing them back down onto your hips as he controlled your movements. His eyes were focused on where you were rubbing against him, his thumbs digging into your skin as he thrust his hips up to match your pace. The friction making him groan gutturally and you whine softly. Tilting his head back, you could see his eyes were glazed and hazy, looking up at you in awe. 

“You’re something fucking else, sweetheart.” His voice husky as he panted heavily, rhythm turning uncoordinated and desperate. Resting your forehead against his and cupping his face gently, your uneven breaths intermingled with his as you screwed your eyes shut at the delicious throbbing of your clit every time it dragged up his hard cock. 

“So pretty, so damn fucking pretty like this.” He whispered, nose nudging against yours. “Makin’ me feel so good, fuck—” His praises cut off with a strangled moan and his grip tightened. 

In the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t ideal for filming. Grinding on your partner like some high school teen in her boyfriend’s first car wasn’t exactly a top search in porn, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. It was you and him and the fire that was burning through your veins. 

Coming to his senses, John’s grip on your hips tightened as he pushed you back off his lap, effectively ceasing all your movements as you frown in confusion. 

“Did I do something wrong?” You asked hesitantly, the tone of your voice heavy and thick as you tried to regulate your breathing. John simply chuckled, shaking his head. He tipped his head back over the couch, letting out an exasperated sigh. 

“Jesus love, making me feel like a young lad again.” The corners of your mouth were twitching upwards, the pieces in your mind clicking together. 

“You need a breather there, John?” You couldn’t help but tease him, reaching down towards his crotch, but getting stopped by his firm grip. 

“You’re a downright menace, you know that?” Giggling, you leaned in to press soft pecks to his cheek, his nose, his forehead; covering his face in kisses as he laughed along with you. 

“Alright, you.” Pinning both your wrists behind your back and tugging your back, John managed to put some space between you both. “Menace, I tell you.” 

Regretfully, you relented your assault, sliding down onto the couch next to him. 

“At least I wasn’t about to cream in my pants.” 

“I’m sorry, love, have you seen the state of my jeans?” His own tone was ribbing as he gestured to the seat of his pants, which showed clear stains from your arousal. Biting your lip, you blinked up at him and shrugged. 

“I’m so terribly sorry, did you want me to stop?” His brow raised at your sarcasm, scoffing as he shook his head. 

“The gall of her?” John looked over at Kate who was flashing a smile of her own as she typed away on her phone. 

“Someone was bound to put you in your place, John.” Making a noise of protest, John looked over at Nik for support, but got none there either. 

During the exchange, you spared a glance over at your own manager, who was scowling in the corner with his arms folded and yet, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Turning your gaze back to John, you nudged him slightly. 

“It’s alright, old man, I can wait all day for you to get it back up.” 

Nikolai let out a barking laugh as John turned his head to look at you incredulously. Moving too quickly for you to process, he pushed you onto your back and pulled you closer to him by your ankles. Letting out a yelp of surprise, your eyes were wide as they stared up at him, his gaze a strange mix of playfulness and interest. 

“You’re cheeky, I’ll give you that. But I’ve got years on you, sweet thing. I can make your head spin in ways you’ve never even imagined.” 

“Prove it.” His eyes narrowed at the snarky retort and one corner of his mouth pulled into a vicious smirk. 

“Oh sweetheart, be very careful what you wish for.” He purred, caressing your skin softly and you felt yourself practically melt under him with anticipation.

Taglist

@ferns-fics (I thought there was another couple who asked but I couldn't find you, apologies! I'll try and make better note for next time)

[firefly-party]

"You clean up nicely, Stevie"

cw: mentioned blood and gore | mafia/mob AU | steddie pre-murderhusbands relationship big thanks to @dapandapod for beta reading and improving my poor attempt to write sth

Steve Harrington is good at his job. He's quick, he is thorough and most importantly, he doesn't ask questions.

There's nothing that could shock him anymore. He's seen everything.

Steve doesn’t mind severed limbs, gore, blood and body fluids, sometimes creatively mixed in more ways than are pleasant to imagine.

He's used to it, and cleaning it is what earns him a nice living as a crime scene cleaner.

Or just... scene cleaner maybe.

He doesn't work with the police or authorities. No, his specialty lies outside the law, which means he arrives before a mess becomes a nuisance. He cleans until there is not a speck of blood left, until there is nothing to indicate that something happened there. Was there ever a crime committed if there is no crime scene?

The money's amazing by the way. Of course cleaning the remains is a shit job but if you add the hush money on top, well, ain't that a nice bonus.

Again, Steve doesn't ask questions. He doesn't care. It's none of his business.

–

Eddie's shoes are squeaking in the puddle of blood he tried and failed to not step into.

He flips the business card around and squints at the hurried scribble of a phone number that was added right under the name "Stevie".

He trusts Chrissy's background check.

They were in a dire need of a new guy after the previous one decided to catch a bullet with his face after snooping one time too many. 

Eddie looks up to the blood stained walls and ceiling and dials the number on the card.

"Hello?"

"Watergate Street 53", is all Eddie replies.

"How many?", Stevie asks.

"Uhm, five?"

"You sure? Might wanna go check again?", Stevie laughs into the phone.

Bitch.

"It's five." Eddie answers, annoyed.

There's a low whistle. "Alright, I'll be there in 20. Payment upfront. 50k."

Then the line goes dead. Eddie rolls his eyes, pockets his phone and looks around for a clean spot to sit while he waits.

–

It's exactly three hours and thirty two minutes later when Stevie empties his water bucket for the last time.

Eddie watches curiously as Stevie takes off the gloves, mask and safety glasses he arrived in. Eddie didn't mean to stick around but he's not trusting this new guy yet (he's also curious, sue him). 

His gaze turns into a stare when the other man pulls down the zipper of his squeaky yellow biohazard suit, throwing back the hood and running a clean hand through his sweat soaked hair. He has a strong jaw and long, mole dotted neck that Eddie just wants to taste.

Eyes wide, Eddie’s not able to hold back the sharp intake of breath as he watches in horror the moment Stevie's eyes lock with his and -

Fuck.

Stevie's lips curl into a smirk.

Eddie is so fucked.

[skyewritesstuff]

greedy | p. mellark

my masterlist.

summary: after months of being in what you think is a situationship with peeta, you finally confront him about whether or not there's anything truly there or if you're just another girl who has fallen for his kindness and misinterpreted the signs.

pairing: peeta mellark x reader (college!au, fratboy!peeta if you squint)

fandom: the hunger games

warnings: nothing too serious. implied nsfw at the end. afab reader. sorta ooc peeta...it's mostly environmental because we all know peeta's a flirt.

notes: based on greedy by tate mcrae even though the verse at the end gives me everlark vibes. also, this has been beta read. :)

word count: 2.8k

He’s here. Are you coming?

You looked at the blue and gray text thread, Clove’s name, and contact picture with a little clover emoji sitting right on top of it. A sigh escaped you as you looked up from your phone at the fraternity house that was positioned in front of you. You’d been leaning against the fencing that surrounded the yard for what felt like an hour, but in reality, it’d only been a few minutes.

As of late, facing Peeta Mellark has always been an unpredictable situation. While he was kind, polite, and charismatic, that charisma oftentimes led to him getting entangled metaphorically (at least you hoped) with other girls. You couldn’t tell if he didn’t know how to say no, was weighing out his options, or if he was what Clove often referred to as a “fuckboy”. 

Fuck it. You rolled your eyes, stuffed your phone into your jacket pocket, and made your way across the cement walkway leading to the house. Having second thoughts, you pulled your phone back out, pulling up the same conversation with Clove.

Is she here?

The person you were speaking of was none other than Katniss Everdeen. She was the most recent girl that Peeta had been hanging around with and was simultaneously the cause of your latest installment of confusion. According to some of your other friends, she’d been friends with Peeta for a while and the study date you ran up on in the library was nothing but a platonic catch-up amongst busy friends.

However, one Madge Undersee had more than the opposite to say. All it took was one group mirror shot in the bathroom at a nightclub posted on Instagram, featuring you and Peeta in the outskirts of the photo, his arm wrapped securely around your waist, for her to send you a heated DM saying that he and Katniss had been a thing for forever and that you were coming between them.

You very quickly sent back, “Funny how the alleged ‘other girl’ always gets shit while the dude gets to slide by.” with a sarcastically placed upside-down smiley that was left on read still to this day.

A typing bubble appeared in Clove’s thread.

I don’t think so!

You let out another sigh, relieved that for now, Katniss wasn’t a worry. You walked into the house, looking around. There was a cloud of smoke in the air, presumably from various substances and/or a smoke machine, and bright lights coming from various directions. You squinted, trying to make out anyone you knew, but specifically trying to find Clove.

“Hey!” The greeting was slurred, long, and drawn out as an arm was all but dropped onto your shoulders. Finnick Odair was standing beside you, laughing at what appeared to be nothing. Finnick was a grad student that you’d met while waiting in line for coffee, quickly discovering that you two had mutual connections.

“Y/N…Y/N…you look…beautiful, stunning, ravishing…Have you seen Annie?” 

You chuckled at how rapidly his thought process changed. “Nope, I just got here! Maybe try calling her?”

“Ha,” he let out, “I don’t…I don’t know her number…”

“But she should be in your… never mind, you’ll find her I’m sure.” you grinned, shaking your head.

“Alright, sweet!” Finnick started to walk away, but then quickly turned on his heel back to you, pointing in your direction.

“Almost forgot…Peeta’s looking for you!”

“What?”

The question was ignored as he walked away, approaching another male at the party the same way he’d approached you. Peeta was looking for you? Was he serious or just on another planet from the amount of alcohol in his system?

You kept maneuvering through the crowd, trying to locate the kitchen, knowing that’s where most of the snacks and drinks were. The kitchen also usually served as a good place to wait around if you were looking for someone. 

You pulled out your phone, shooting a text to Clove to meet you in the kitchen. You stared down at the screen, hoping for a speech bubble to pop up saying she was either on her way or giving you simple directions to wherever she was located. You then felt yourself collide with someone in a way that wasn’t painful, but most definitely was going to lead to an awkward exchange.

“Oh shit…I’m so sorry…”

You were met with blonde hair and a black hoodie and then a beautiful set of oh-too-familiar blue eyes.

“Don’t be!” Peeta smiled, “I was looking for you! I sent out Finnick to look for you and everything.”

You rolled your eyes with a smirk, “Well, you might want to find someone sober enough to complete the mission next time, just saying.”

“You are probably absolutely correct…but it’s fine. Why send someone else when it’s something you can do on your own way better, right?” he smiled, leaning on the wall, taking a sip from his cup, “Do you want something to drink?”

“What is that?” you gestured to the cup, raising a curious yet somewhat fearful eyebrow.

Peeta shrugged, “I think it’s some kind of jungle juice. The base has to be Hawaiian Punch because of the color if that helps.” He extended the cup towards you, “Want to see for yourself?”

You nodded and took the cup, taking a sip. It was definitely Hawaiian Punch, and it wasn’t as strong as you thought it would be, which could either be a help or a hindrance. 

“Pretty good, right?” he asked. You nodded in response, handing the cup back to him. “Do you want me to get you some of that…or I can try to mix you something myself?”

“Whatever that is, that’s fine.” you answered, following him over to a large orange Gatorade dispenser that had the word “NOT” written on a piece of tape, stuck above the label. You chuckled under your breath as you watched the blonde grab a cup, scoop out some ice, and then fill the drink. As he did this, you took the time to take in his appearance as your brain had been busy keeping up with the conversation instead of taking a good look at him.

He was in a black hoodie with a small logo on the chest; his blonde hair falling into his face a little. He also was wearing gray joggers with his university lanyard sticking out of the pocket, falling onto his leg with a pair of somewhat beaten-up sneakers. Despite his relaxed appearance, he looked put together. He looked good.

Peeta turned back to you, handing you the cup, which you took with a smile. “Do you wanna go somewhere quieter?” he asked, gesturing to the surroundings before refilling his cup.

Your stomach turned with nerves. He probably just meant to talk, but what if he didn't? You knew for a fact that your bra and underwear were not fancy, nor did they match, and you probably had the lowest body count in your friend group. You took a hard swallow.

“...To talk…” Peeta laughed, his tone sounding a little nervous as he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly and took a sip from his cup. The lights well-hid the red flush on his face.

“Oh…okay, yeah!” you laughed back, watching as he extended his hand. You took his hand, noticing how he immediately laced your fingers together as he walked you through the main hallway that you’d just walked through and up the stairs. 

Someone at a distance must’ve seen you both making your way upstairs, because someone wolf-whistled and then called Peeta’s name, causing him to sharply turn over his shoulder to try and identify the person. He quickly stuck his middle finger up at no one in particular, given the culprit was never identified, and then sped up a little as you both got up to the top of the stairs.

“I'm sorry. People are dumb and make ridiculous assumptions…like I’m really not trying to…”

“Peeta, it’s okay.” you reassured him, “If Clove had seen me, she probably would’ve been ten times worse and reminded me of one of her ridiculous tips to supposedly eliminate your gag reflex that she learned on TikTok.”

Peeta somewhat choked on the sip of his drink that he was taking, laughing at your comment, “Who said you couldn’t learn something off of the internet.”

He led you down a shorter hallway to a door. He knocked twice before opening it, finding it just as he must’ve left it, as you quickly put two-and-two together that this was his room. He shut and locked the door behind him, took another sip from his drink, and sat it on his bedside table before flopping on the bed as you leaned against the wall.

You took a big sip of your drink, hoping the alcohol kicked in sooner rather than later to get some control of the nerves that were bubbling up across your entire body. You watched as the blonde turned on his side and looked over at you.

“I'm not gonna bite, sweetheart…unless you’re into that.” 

You couldn’t refrain from rolling your eyes at his cheesy line before you walked over to sit your drink next to his. Then, you removed your jacket, hanging it from his footrest. Before you could even turn your attention back to him, you could feel his eyes on you. It was like he was bearing a hole into the exposed skin on your back that was left uncovered from your dress now that your denim jacket had been discarded.

When you turned back around, he rolled onto his back with his hands behind his head, smiling up at you. “You’re gorgeous.” 

It was spoken so matter-of-factly as if he was telling you the most basic of observations…as if it were obvious to anyone who looked at you. You could feel your chest swell slightly at his words. Your instinct was going to be to tell him to stop or to refute what he said, but you took a breath and let out a small, “Thank you” in response as you sat on the edge of his bed and then slowly inched your way back onto the bed, laying next to him.

The room was silent, aside from the bumping music that was playing behind the door and down the stairs, and your eyes were fixed on the ceiling fan, watching it spin to avoid meeting Peeta’s eyes, fearing the burning blush that would overtake your body if you did.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, breaking that silence.

“Nothing…” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth either. You weren’t giving your full thought process to anything. Instead, your brain was in several places at once. You’d thought about the makeup tutorial you’d seen earlier set to the song that was playing downstairs. You’d thought about how close Peeta was to you. You’d also thought about Katniss and Peeta’s study “date” from a while back too.

“Baby, if something’s bothering you, you can tell me.” he said. You finally glanced over at him. He was on his side, facing you, leaning against one hand while the other played with his hoodie string.

Baby.

Before you could stop yourself, the bigger question tumbled out of your lips, “What’s up with you?”

His features scrunched together in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“You take me on dates. You kiss me. You hold my hand. You call me baby.” you paused, “But then, I see you at the library with Katniss Everdeen and I have one of her stupid little friends in my DMs accusing me of being a homewrecker because you have your arm around me in a photo I didn’t even post…and I’ve seen you talking to other girls too, Peeta. You do the same thing, leaning against the wall, standing close to them. You’re smiling and laughing and the girl is playing with her hair and laughing back at you. What is all of that? Am I just the one you know will answer your random texts and calls to hang out…go to the club… make out in your car? Am I some weird escape from reality like…who…”

You were quickly silenced by his lips on yours, one hand coming up to your cheek, pulling you in closer to him. It was almost second nature at this point and your body quickly betrayed you despite your frustrations and melted into the kiss as it deepened, your hand coming to rest on his ribcage, progressively snaking onto his back and then upwards into his blonde locks as he moved over top of you.

The motion of him nudging your leg with his knee so he could position himself knocked you back into reality like a harsh slap to the face. You put both hands onto his chest and applied just enough pressure to jerk him back into the present as well. He looked confused. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and his lips were slightly swollen.

“Did I do something?” 

You propped yourself up, causing him to move, rolling back onto his back, his arm dropping across his chest as he rather obviously tried to cool himself down. You sat up, looking down at Peeta, whose eyes met yours.

“You never answered my question.”

“Yes, I did.” He looked at you like you’d missed the most obvious sign in the universe, but you already knew he meant the kiss, and that was not the answer you were looking for.

You shook your head, “A kiss isn’t an answer. If anything, it just proves my point. I don’t understand you. You clearly, in some way, want me. So, what is it? Are you just playing the field…fucking a bunch of random girls…Are you in love with Katniss still?”

“Katniss?” Peeta looked like you’d slapped him clean across his handsome face.

“Yes, Katniss…” You repeated, glancing from him to the door, wondering if it’d just be better to get up and go home. You knew fully well that he’d follow you. There was no getting out of this.

“I get it. You’re hot. You’re nice. I genuinely don’t think you’d try to intentionally hurt anyone, but…”

“That’s it, right there.” He pointed toward you as you spoke, “You talk about me and my mixed signals…what is that? You go from basically saying I’m some piece of shit heartbreaker to saying I’d never hurt anyone. You do that a lot. You’ll go from dancing with me and kissing me…letting me hold you while you’re sleeping to acting completely disinterested in anything outside of a friendship. I’ve never dealt with anything like this before. Girls are usually pretty forward with me…regardless of whether I feel the same or not. I don’t know if it’s intentional…like you think it’ll make me want you more or what, but it’s driving me crazy. Other girls may want me...I don't know for sure, but I know for sure that I want you, not them. I’m trying my best to show you that…but you just keep pushing me away and I wish you’d stop.”

Your eyes dropped to the floor, suddenly hyper-aware of a scuff on the toe of your boots. Your heart pounded as you tried to process what he’d said. He was usually so confident and sure in his abilities to keep sucking you back in, but the wavering tones in his voice indicated otherwise. He was serious.

You turned back to him, “I…I like you a lot…a lot more than just a friend…which is why seeing you with those other girls drove me fucking insane. I want you and for you to only want me. I don’t want to just be some kind of convenience for you. I’m either your girlfriend or nothing at all.”

His lips curved into a smile as your arms crossed over your chest, waiting for a response from the blonde. Peeta sat up and moved in closer to you, his forehead resting against yours, lips inches from your own.

“As you wish, girlfriend.”

His lips were on yours as soon as the title was spoken, moving slowly and sensually. His hand came to your waist as you fell back onto the bed, pulling him down with you as you finally let him move over top of you. The kisses grew needier and more passionate as your hands moved to the hem of his hoodie, pulling it and his white undershirt over his head and allowing for him to toss them behind him.

The articles of clothing caught your jacket, bringing it to the floor as well. Your phone slid out of the pocket as it vibrated, going completely unnoticed next to the clothing.

Where are you?

Hello?

Oh my god, Cato just said he saw you going upstairs with Peeta. Good luck. ;) Remember what I told you about spelling your name. Trust me, works every single time.

[patrophthia]

love is sour grapes | theo. nott

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

genre: fluff, angst (if you squint), unrequited love but not really, everyone is an idiot, self indulgent, not beta read.

word count: 5.9K

originally posted on ao3 on: 06/28/2022

"Uhm— would you like to—"

He turned to me calmly, the rest of his appearance devoid of emotions.

"—go out sometimes?" I finished. "As a Date?"

One, two, three beats passes and all Theodore did was look at me. No answer. No emotions. No words. Nothing.

Or Theodore is a quiet piece of shit and that leads to miscommunication and complicated feelings

Theodore Nott. The one constant thought that has been running through my head way too often for my liking. He was handsome, quiet, smart, lanky in all the right ways and never seemed to be engaged in a conversation —or at least one where he was talking instead of just listening and listening and listening.

Talking to him had always been one of my goals, it shouldn't have, really, it shouldn't. But somehow I had found myself more than just infatuated with him. 

Theodore was an observant person, if he noticed me studying him, he never confronted me about it. 

But, as my friend says it, Theodore Nott is sour grapes. Or, in better words, love is sour grapes. If this even was love that is. 

"I think you should just talk to him," Hermione says kindly. "I still don't think that he would be good for you but if you fancy him that much then go ahead." 

"If you want a death wish that is," Ron snickered. "Honestly, can't you have picked a better guy to fancy? I mean— Nott? Of all people."

"Do you want me to fancy Malfoy instead? Would that make you happy," I quipped, hearing Hermione hide a laugh between closed lips. "Or god forbid, you." 

Ron face contorted to one of offense. "I'm notthatbad." 

"Yeah sure," I murmured, with no malice. And turned to Harry who had been quiet about the situation ever since he found out. "What do you think?" 

Harry shrugged, looking startled. "I don't know," He said first, and then. "I think you need someone better than Nott. You're friendly and thoughtful—" he paused hesitantly. "—and you're quite awfully pretty." 

"Thank you, Harry." My eyes fell downwards with no real intention. I was none of those things. "But I don't think he'd agree." 

"What does it matter if he agrees," Hermione said loudly. "Harry's right. You're all of those things. It's his loss if he doesn't go out with you. You're fit, incredibly so. I would be happy if someone like you were to ever fancy me."

If Ron had a reaction to those words, neither Hermione nor Harry noticed. 

"Well," I said as a group of Slytherin walked into the Potions classroom. Potions would be starting any minute now, and I needed to head into class before Snape does. "I'll keep that in mind. If all fails, I'll just have to marry you, Mione." 

With a final smile, I bid them a quick goodbye and made my way into class. The three of them heading to which ever direction they needed to be. 

The class quickly starts, and Snape wasted no time in assigning me a potion to make. Invigoration Draught. The potion that energizes the drinker. How fun.

The ingredients were mostly easy to obtain. Peppermint, Honeywater, Stewed Mandrake then there's Dried billywig sting: my biggest nightmare.

I was only so tall and the shelves where the ingredients were stored stood so so high. I would've used a stool had it been free to use, but a Slytherin had already been occupying it and it would be rude if I were to take it away from them.

There was a cough behind my back, and then, a hand reached; over me and towards the exact thing I needed. Dried billywig sting: my new biggest enemy.

The person pulled back —jar filled with billywig in hand, and stood still as I turned to them. The jar had a decent amount of billywig in it, if they needed it I could still manage to ask for just enough for my potion. That is if they were kind enough to let me have some.

"Could I—" I paused mid-turn. There stood Theodore Nott in all his glory. Dark eyes, dark hair and facial features that looked like every part of him was chosen by Aphrodite herself, watching me with a raised eyebrow. "—uhm, could I have a few of those? I needed it for my potion but I couldn't reach it."

Theodore blinked once, looking unfazed and handed the jar over.

I blinked twice the time he did, opening up the jar; intending on taking out a few and handing it back over when he stopped me.

"I don't need it."

His voice.

"You don't?" I find myself asking, trying not to breathe too loud or to forget how to even breathe in the first place.

Theodore shook his head once. And reached up for something else. Had he seen me struggle and had gotten it just for me?

"Thank you," I tell him. Theodore nodded once, accepting it as it is. I think you should just talk to him. Goddamn it, Granger. "Uhm— would you like to—"

He turned to me calmly, the rest of his appearance devoid of emotions.

"—go out sometimes?" I finished. "As a Date?"

One, two, three beats passes and all Theodore did was look at me. No answer. No emotions. No words. Nothing.

Whether he was scrutinizing me or not, I didn't know. What I do know is that I was wrong and stupid. And my friends were wrong too.

He needed more than me. I might be friendly and kind and maybe quite awfully pretty. But Theodore needed more than me.

"You know what." I cleared my throat, smiling. "Forget I said anything. Have a good day, Nott."

•••

I had been down lately. My friends noticed that. Even Harry and Ron noticed it and they were as daft as they come. Whenever they asked me what was wrong I find myself telling them that I was just stressed over my O.W.Ls.

Which I was. But it was mostly a lie to cover up something I was more upset about. I had idiotically asked Theodore out and now I have to face the consequences of being rejected.

I think —in some ways— him having not even say 'no' or have given a clearer answer was more upsetting then if he had just said no out loud.

It was stupid of me to get my hopes up and think that anything else would've happened. It was stupid for me to even think I was in his league.

It was also late. I hated walking back to the common rooms in these hours but it was my fault for procrastinating my essay until the night before it was due so I had to rush the entire thing in an hour in the library. I had only hoped that Umbridge wouldn't punish me for being out pass curfew.

I had one more hall left to turn before I reached the Hufflepuff's barrels when someone shouted out my surname, halting me in my place.

Fast pace footsteps approached and then, donning from head to toe in pink was Umbridge. Fuck.

"What do you think you're doing out of your dorm at this time?" She asked quickly, her toad like face twitching with irritation.

"I was in the library and lost track off time," I quickly confessed. "I'm so sorry. My dorm's close by and I—"

"It was my fault professor." His voice. "I’d asked for her help and lost track of time. She was trying to head back before curfew but it seems like her efforts were to no avail. I can only hope you would excuse her and blame me for my faults."

Umbridge looked baffled. He talked? Theodore talked? She made that annoying noise that she can't seemed to get rid off. "Well." her voice laced with false kindness.

"I see no point in deducting any points." She then turned to me. "But I will be expecting to see you tomorrow for separating yourself from help at a time as late as this. Merlin knows, it's dangerous for a girl to wander alone at this time."

"Just me?" I asked, slightly confused.

Her eyes flashed with annoyance. "Do you expect Mister Nott here to be punished for wanting to make sure you got back to your dorm safe?"

That wasn’t what he— okay. Fine. Whatever.

"Now, go off," she said with a wave of her hand. "And Theodore, would you be so kind as to walk her back? I don't want to know the troubles she might cause when I let her out my sight."

Theodore nodded, doing as he was told and took a step forward. He looked behind his shoulders, his eyes meeting mine and tilted his head slightly: signaling that we should leave now before it gets worse.

I avoided Umbridge's eyes and stepped forward, trailing after Theodore. Detention. All because I was too lazy to finish my essay any other time I had.

I think I feel my eyes water. I think it feels harder to breathe. I don't know for sure how I feel exactly despite dejected and disappointed with myself.

If I had just made one different choice, I wouldn't have to have detention with the one professor known to physically harm the students. And to top it off, being walked back to my common room by the boy who recently rejected me whilst bottling up my feelings about everything I did wrong.

"You don't have to actually walk me back." I paid no heed to the crack of my voice. Theodore does though. "It's late." I pointed out the obvious. "You should go."

Theodore glanced at me quickly. His look was so quick that I suspected he had planned to only spare me a second of his time. But something about me, something about how vulnerable I must've looked, had him pausing.

"I shouldn't." He said slowly, his tone so attentively that it made me think that he had saw something in me that I never did. "I can't leave you."

"You can." I don't think I can handle being near him any longer, not when he was studying me so cautiously. "It's only a few steps away, I can assure you I'll be fine."

Theodore eyes flickered down the corridor quickly, finally tearing themselves away from me and looked forward, continuing towards the direction of my common room.

When we finally reached where we needed to be. Theodore stood back watching as I tapped the barrels carefully.

I looked over my shoulder once the path opens up. Smiling slightly when I found his eyes on me. "Thank you for taking the blame, Theo. You didn't have to and you did and spared me way too many house points. I really appreciate it."

He made a noise of acknowledgment, taking my word as it is. And then, as he was about to step away. "Goodnight."

•••

I think I hate life. I might be wrong but life sucks. Especially when you have to repeatedly write the same sentence over and over again with a magic quill that tears through your skin.

That can't have been a legal source of punishment but Umbridge made the rules so it was no use fighting her about it.

My hand hurts. Holy fuck, does it hurt. I don't even have to glance down at it for me to see my skin burning red, bleeding slightly. Curved out in the sentence. I will not be out pass curfew. 

"You alright there?" Came a voice. 

I looked up quick and abruptly, sure that I'll get whiplash from my actions; to find George Weasley watching me with interest. I smiled, subconsciously hiding away my hand. "I'm fine." 

"You sure?" He followed up. "You don't look too good."

I nodded, trying to look as reassuring as possible. "I'm fine, just got a paper cut is all." 

He fixes me a look of disbelief but let it slides. "You should go," he said with a small smile. "I think Ron's looking for you? Something about slimey snakes and what not." 

"Oh." The sound slipped out. "Thank you, I'll go find him." 

It was weird to see George without Fred but I decided that I didn't want to know why. They were probably setting up a prank and I had walked right through it. 

Bidding George a goodbye. I continued down the corridor, turned the corridor and found the trio standing by with Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott by their sides. This can't be good. 

Is this what George referred to when he said Ron was looking me about some slimey snakes? 

"There she is," Malfoy said with mild annoyance. "We've been looking for you." 

"You have?" My eyes drifted to Hermione but she only shrugged, looking as clueless as I was. "Why?" 

Malfoy took a steps towards me. "You've been with Professor Umbridge?" 

"Yes." I nodded. "Why?" 

"Did she give you the quill?" 

What was he playing at? Why was he interrogating me? "Yes." I repeated. "Why?" 

Zabini rolled his eyes and step up, seemingly having enough of Malfoy's dramatics. "Here." He handed out a bottle. "It's Murtlap essence. Suppose to help you with the cuts. Nott made it for you." 

"He did?" I asked, taking the bottle of Murtlap essence from Zabini's hand. I turned to look at Theodore, finding his eyes glued to my bleeding hand that was grasping the bottle. Jerking my hand back, I smiled, thanking him. "Thank you for this, I really appreciate and for uhm— thanks again for covering for me last night." 

Everyone —all but Theodore and I— brows raised upwards, surprised. So they didn't know about what had happened last night.

Theodore showed no outwards reaction, having just watch me with a straight face and patient eyes. Then he turned to Zabini and tilted his head slightly. Zabini seemingly understood, slapped a hand over Malfoy's shoulder and with a goodbye, steered the blond boy away. 

"Bloody hell," Ron said exasperatedly. "Did that really happen?" 

"Nott made you Murtlap essence?" Hermione asked more to herself than anyone else. "How did he even know you needed it?" 

"I—" I stopped, glancing at my hand. "—I was out pass curfew and Umbridge caught me. Nott took the blame for it. I think Umbridge was too surprised with hearing him talk to properly acknowledge that he too was out of the dorms pass curfew. She said she won't take away any house points but gave me detention as a punishment." 

"That's all?" Hermione said. "Why would Nott take the fall for it and then proceed to make Murtlap essence for you if there wasn't anything in it for him?" 

"I don't know," I told her, shrugging. "He also walked me back to my common room and wouldn't leave me when I insisted otherwise." 

"Do you think." Ron started. "Maybe that Nott fancies you?" 

"No." I was quick to shake my head in disagreement. "He's doesn't. He's made that clear already." 

"He has?" Harry asked loudly, brows knitted together. 

"Yeah," I murmured. "That day I talked to the three of you. I asked him during class if maybe we could go out on a date sometimes and he didn't say anything. Not a yes. Not a no. Nothing." 

"That's terrible," said Hermione sympathetically. "Honestly, what kind of person rejects someone then proceed to do things as if they cared for them." 

"Hermione," said Harry cautiously, eyes shifting between me and her. "I don't think that does anything to soothe her nerves." 

"Sorry." Hermione blinked in realization. "It's just— you deserve better. I don't understand a thing Nott's doing and I don't want you to get hurt in the process." 

"He could be figuring out his feelings," Ron suggested making Hermione shoot a sharp glare his direction. Ron tsked. "I'm just pointing it out." 

"Well it's not helping." Hermione said in an obvious tone. Her eyes drifted down to my hand, scanning the words then looked back up. "I think you should head back and take care of your hand. You don't want it to scar now, do you?" 

I nodded, waving. "I'll see you at dinner?"

Hermione let out an agreeing hum and went on her way, Ron pestering her from behind. Harry hadn't moved though, looking at me with furrowed brows. "Could I maybe have some of your Murtlap essence?"

"Yeah." I handed it over. "I didn't know you had to endure Umbridge as well."

"Didn't think it was important to mention." He pulled out an empty ink pot from his bag and twisted it open, pouring just enough essence to not overflow it. Harry put the cap back on and handed it back over. "Don't tell Hermione or Ron, will you? I don't want to be a bother." 

" 'course." I smiled. "I won't tell anyone." 

•••

What are the chances that I get caught being out pass curfew twice in the same week. Pretty fucking high because I was once again being called out late at night. 

Two sets of foot steps stops before me and it took me roughly five seconds to realize just how grave the situation was. Draco Malfoy stood tall and smug with Hannah Abott by his side looking tired —if a little irritated by Malfoy's presence. 

"What are you doing out, badger?" Malfoy asked. 

"I was heading back from the kitchens." Malfoy made a face and glanced down at my outfit that looked way too overdressed to be heading down to the kitchens. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes." It was clear that I was caught in a lie. Goddamn you, Radiohead concert. "I must've lost track of time." 

Hannah looked like she wanted to say something but bit her tongue. Not wanting any of her words to be counted as it being biased just because I was her dorm mate. 

And then, as I waited to hear Malfoy state just how many points he wanted to take away from my house. He said with annoyance, "you can go." Unfazed to the look of surprise that showed up on both mine and Hannah's faces. "Tell Nott he owes me one." 

•••

I don't think my head could —or will ever fully comprehend "tell Nott he owes me one." I don't know why exactly but that sentence feels way more ominous than it ought to be. 

ott does not owe him anything for letting me go. 

And I don't think I owe Nott anything for helping me be let go? maybe I could've phrased that better. What I meant to say is that: I owe Nott nothing for his friend's behavior towards me. At least I don't think I do. 

But things works in mysterious way. Like how —despite how ironic I find it— Nott always find out a way to help me out during potions. Especially when it came to the ingredients. 

Though that was the least of my concerns right now. My concern, for now, is revolved between the three books in my hand that I can't decide —for the life of me— which one to buy. 

On other occasions I would buy all three and went about my day but I had only brought enough money for one book and food for the rest of the day at Hogsmeade, and my friend didn't seem like they'd be heading back to Hogwarts for extra cash any time soon. 

I looked over my options once more, trying to figure out which one would be the bang of my buck. 

Option one: All Or Nothing, a novel about a girl trying to navigate relationships with the people she surrounded herself with and see whether they would react differently when she gave them her all, and then; how they would react when she gave them nothing. 863 pages. 

Option two: Glimpse Of Us, a novel about a boy who always —and I mean always, sees his ex in the girls he dates after her. 295 pages. 

Option three: Listen boy, a cheesy novel about a girl who had little to no interest when it comes to going on dates with guys but when her roommate compliments her on the socks she wore, she finds herself wanting to do nothing but go on dates with them. 530 pages. 

Both Glimpse Of Us and All Or Nothing seems like sad book. Maybe it's time for me to find some joy in my life —which seems to seize to exist after whatever happened between me Nott happened. As I turned, intending to put those two books back in their respective places. I was more than surprise to find Nott looking at me with a slight fascinated tilt to his head.

“Which is it?”

"Hmm?" I find myself humming. Should I pick All Or Nothing instead? Wouldn't that make me seem more intelligent than a book about a girl being in love with her roommate. 

"Which one have you chose?" He clarified, and I might've imagined it —no I definitely did because, Theodore Nott's lips did not just curve up at all. 

"This one." I lifted up whatever was in my right hand which just happens to be Listen boy. And there goes sounding more intelligent in front of Theodore. "It seems cute." 

"Is that all?" He followed up and it's then that I realize he was wearing a forest green that had no reasons to make him look as good as it did. Green really was his colour. "Nothing more?"

"No." I shook my head. "Ideally I would like two get these two as well," I told him truthfully. "But I only brought enough for one —technically two, if I stretched it out but that would mean no snacks for the rest of the day so it's a no." 

"I'll get it for you then," he says casually. Like it's something you say to someone you recently rejected. Like he was walking around, waiting for someone to tell him that they haven't brought enough cash for the other books they wanted. "Would you like anything else? I am more than willing to indulge you." 

"No, I don't." I stop myself. Yes, I mean. Because I really did want other books, especially if someone else was paying for it but I know that my poor heart cannot handle it. 

It is already breaking apart at how handsome he looked with his forest green jumper and black ironed pants. His hair, a usual dark brown, just the slightest tinge brighter under the sunlight (which is both a sight for sore eye and a rare view since I only ever see him in the dungeons, hunched over a bubbling pot and disgusting lightings) which flatters him in all the best way possible. 

And no, my heart is not picking up a million paces over I am more than willing to indulge you in that very tone of voice, in that very set of clothes, in very set of lighting, by that very Slytherin that I could not seem to get over.

"You don't have to," I insisted, trying to not shiver under his gaze. He narrows his eyes and it says way more than words could ever say. He knows he doesn't, he wants to. Oh lord save me. "Maybe this one? It's cheaper." 

"That was not my question," he said curtly. "I asked you if you'd like anything else, not which option was cheaper."

What are we even talking about now? Was he planning on buying me the three books in my hands and more or was he planning on letting me pay for my choice then pay for the others I couldn't afford. 

Is my face that much of an open book? Because, without even having to say it. Theodore had already answered my questions for me. "I'll buy you the three in your hands and anymore you'd like. I'd buy you the whole store if you wanted me to." 

I think I'm having a heart attack. Or dreaming. Or both. I can't tell. Maybe I'm dreaming while having a heart attack? Who knows. All I know is that Theodore Nott did not just say that. Did he? 

"No." I shake my head quickly, maybe even too quickly. "No, I— these three are more than enough. I promise to pay you back when we get back to school."

Theodore fixes me a look. One ridiculing me to the point that I wished —more than anything— that I was a bludger being hit so hard I pass through the most oblivious of oblivions. I'm so sure that that would be less stressful. 

"I mean it!" I press all three books to my side. "I promise, and I always keep my promise. I won't take advantage of your money, I will get it and find you as soon as I—"

I didn't see the point in finishing my words because he was smiling. And laughing. I think. It's a mixture of those two and it's so heavenly that I believe in everything ethereal alike. 

Theodore noticed my silence, the side of his lips curved the slightest bit (so so small and tiny that you couldn't even spot it), looking at me with clearly amused eyes. And then, "did you not hear me?" 

"What?" The words slipped out easily. 

"I told you I'd buy you the whole store if you'd like and you think I'd want my money back?" He said slowly. "I couldn't care less about the money. I just wanted to make you happy. Salazar knows, I've made you upset more often than I could count between my fingers." 

Now what the fuck was he on about. He has never made me upset —save for rejecting me that one time,  but I understood it, he didn't like me, that's that. I have gotten over. I think. But I'm more than sure that I could count that one event between his ten fingers.

Unless Theodore only had one finger? Does he? I cast a glance down to his hands and there are those ten fingers. Ten exactly. Not one short or one more. Ten and a couple of silver bands that made me want to do nothing but sit and stare at his long, pale, slim fingers. And how they would feel around my— nope, nope. Absolute not. 

"Merlin, we leave Nott alone and he goes around trying to find his girlfriend." Girlfriend? 

When the owner of the voice, Zabini, finally arrives before me and Theodore, I was no where near surprised to see the other Slytherins in their group by his side. 

Parkinson. Malfoy. And finally, Greengrass —whom I was actually friends with. 

"Well?" Zabini muttered, eyes shifting between me and Theodore, and then landing on him solely. "Are the pair of you planning on standing here the whole day?" 

"No," I said with narrowed eyes. "I don't know what he's doing here, I'm just trying to buy a book." 

Zabini raised a brow. "Is that all, princess?" 

"Pretty much." This feels like a trap. Is this a trap? "Are you planning on going somewhere with Theo?" 

"Theo," Zabini tsked with a smirk. "I've never once called him that and I've known him for about five year now. How cute is that." 

Yep. This is definitely a trap. I think I'm going to die now. 

Theodore, with a roll of his eyes, made his way to my side and pried at the books pressed to my waist. Confused, and a little daze at the warmth of his fingers grazing my hip, I let go of the three books and watched him with wide eyes. 

He seemed (and looked) unaffected by how everyone eyes were now on him. Walking around and picking another set of the exact books I'd picked out. Theodore paid for them without a word, asking for separate bags and handed a set over to me. 

And then, quietly he says. "Zabini's an idiot." He smiled a winsome one and I am so sure I'm dying and this —whatever this was— is just a figment of my imagination that my brain curated during my dying breath. "I like it. Don't ever stop calling me Theo." 

•••

Blaise Zabini is trying to be matchmaker. I'm sure of it. Or else he wouldn't be bothering me as much as he did now. I can't seem to peacefully spend time in the library without being interrupted by him. 

"Hello," he greeted, smiling as he sat opposing me. I raised an eyebrow and he was able to read me quick enough, telling me the reason he was here. "Just wanted to let you know that Nott finished those three novels he bought and he's looking for someone to talk it over with a cup of tea —or coffee, whichever one you prefer." 

Is he implying what I think he's implying? "Why is that any of my concerns." 

"I thought you might be interested." He shrugged. "Since you know, you fancy Nott and all." 

"I don't fancy Nott." I told him. An obvious lie, and Zabini knew that too. "And he doesn't fancy me so it's just a waste of time." 

"Nott doesn't fancy you?" He's laughing. He's actually laughing. What was so funny about the truth? "What makes you think that?" 

"He literally turns me down I when I asked him out," I said blankly. "It's pretty clear, isn't it?" 

"And what exactly did he say?" Zabini asked playfully, as if he was humoring me. 

"Nothing," I answered. "He just looked at me and said nothing, I don't think I need anything else to tell me that it's an obvious no." 

"Nothing?" Zabini repeated with a grin. "Have you heard of being speechless? Or better yet, you know Nott doesn't really speak right?" 

"That doesn't excuse him saying nothing when I asked him to go on a date," I countered.

"It doesn't," Zabini concurred. "But Nott's an idiot." Funny, Theodore said the exact same thing about Blaise. "Did you know Nott did Malfoy's work for a week without complain just because he let you go that one time you snuck out?" 

No. I don't say. Malfoy did say Nott owe him one but I hadn't thought it important. "What does that have anything to do with what you were talking about?" 

"Because," he says exaggeratedly. "Nott fancies you back. I suspected that he liked you since third year though he won't admit it. He won't even admit that he fancies you now but he's incredibly easy to read." 

I shut my book and looked at him. Really looked at him. Trying to gauge whether he was messing with me or telling the truth. "What am I supposed to do with this information?" 

"Ask him out again," he suggested lightly. "Give him another chance for being the biggest twat there is."

"And have him reject me again?"

"He won't," Zabini says calmly. "He'd burn the entire school down before even thinking of rejecting you." 

I hesitate. "I don't want to embarrass myself again."

"You won't," he says with a roll his eyes. "Look I know being rejected is hard, I think I get it. I've never been rejected before. But I also know that the both of you like each other just as much and it's getting tiring seeing you beat around the bush." 

"Nott won't make the first move. He thinks you hate him now for not answering when you ask so you'd have to ask again —if you still want to be with him that is. Do you? Or else I've been doing all this for nothing." 

Yes. I think. I'm pretty sure that I want to be with him. "Do you know where he is?" 

"Oh," Zabini said delightedly. "He's actually coming here right now. I told him I was coming to find you but never gave him a reason why. He'd be here any —speaking of the devil. Hello, Theo."

Theodore doesn't bother to return his greeting. Eyes heavily set on Zabini in a glare that had me shivering just from the side lines. Then his eyes turn to me and his glare on hardens. 

"Hi, Theo." I don't think I've ever since Theodore like this before. "What are you doing here?" 

"What did he do?" He asked instead. 

"Nothing," I said quickly. "He did nothing. We just talked." 

"About?" 

"Stuff."

"Stuff?" 

"Yes. Stuff." 

"What kind of stuff?" 

"Oh you know," I huffed. "The weather. Coffee. You." 

"Me?" 

"Yes." My lips fold itself into a thin line. "Actually Theo. Could I ask you something?" 

His gaze softens when he nods.I am more than willing to indulge you.I am so sure now, more than ever, that love really is sour grapes. 

"Uhm— would you like to—"

His eyes widened, large as saucers as he processed in my words.

"—go out sometimes?" I finished. "As a Date?" 

One, two, three beats passes and all Theodore did was look at me. No answer. No emotions. No words. Nothing. And I am briefly reminded of everything that happened. 

And then, "yes," he says. "Yes, I would." 

•••

Theodore really did read those books he bought me. This I knew now as I sat under the sun on one of Hogsmeade many benches with Theo to my left. 

This part of Hogsmeade was quiet, it wasn't too far from the shops but far enough for no one to frequent by. A few people passed by trying to move from destination to destination but none noticed the bench wedge into the middle of the place where two fifth years were sat, talking about everything and anything under the moon and stars. 

"So you liked it? You liked 'Listen, boy'?"

"I did." He was smiling and I wished more than anything that I'd had a camera to capture every smile he had given me during the pass hours. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes," I laugh and his smile widens. "It just doesn't seem like you. It's a cheesy and corny book and you're always so dark and broody about everything." 

"I'm not dark and broody about everything," he denied. 

"You are!" I countered. "You were even dark and broody when I'd first asked you out."

"That's 'cause I didn't know what to say," he says truthfully. "You could've said yes, that would've made it easy for the both of us," I told him. "I really couldn't. You don't deserve just a yes. You deserved everything, not something so simple." 

"But that yes would've made my week, Theo." 

Theo looked like he was about to say something before he changed his mind. "I'm sorry I didn't say yes when you'd first asked me. Could you ever forgive me?" 

I want to kiss him until his lips, his skin, his hands, his scent, every tiny bit of him is imprinted in my mind. "Yes." I say. "Yes, I think I could." 

Theodore chuckled, his nose crinkling at the motion and something between that laugh and smile of his causes me to lose it. 

My hand reached forward first, palm pressing against his cheek, pulling him closer to me and pressed my lips onto his. I kissed him once then as I reached to pull away; I find that both of his hands had found their way to my cheeks, holding me still as he kissed me back. 

Theodore pulled back, the tiniest of smile on his lips that had the smallest smudge of my lipstick attached to it. And he tells me, as if he had been thinking of this for days, years, lifetimes. "You are the prettiest girl I've ever seen." 

And when I smiled, Theo leans back in. Peppering quick kisses on my lips, my nose, my cheeks, my forehead, anywhere I would let him kiss me; he will cherish it. 

Once Theo finally pulls back —and this was for real this time, no more quick kisses. He looks at me and I know deep down that he will be the death of me when he says. "You are going to be the death of me."

— from bee: the thing about theo is that we know nothing about him so you can’t say that this is ooc :>

[janaispunk]

heaven can't help me now

chapter 3 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You're afraid Dave might not like you as much as you like him. ...Meanwhile, Dave is afraid of the same thing. (They're idiots okay)

word count: 6.5k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks), able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, phone sex, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, biting, cream pie, use of panties as a gag, orgasm denial, pet names, let me know if anything is missing!

a/n: co-written with my angel @joelscurls, throwing around these ideas with you is so fun, i love you <3

taylor swift said “what if he’s written mine on my upper thigh” and i took that personally

thank you @catchallfangirl for beta reading! <3 (and listening to me freak out about this on a daily basis)

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @janaispunknotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

Dave regrets the message as soon as the small text underneath it switches from delivered to read. 

He knows that he’s been cruel to you, he could see the confusion and hurt written all over your face when he drove you home. But he has to be the responsible one, the adult in this situation. The one who’s able to hold back. Nothing should have happened between you and him, not once, let alone twice. He shouldn’t indulge in this, shouldn’t give you hope. 

He has always looked down on men who were with women much younger than them. Midlife crisis. Not able to have a relationship with someone on the same maturity level. 

That’s not who he is. He understands that the reason why you’re attracted to him lies at least partially in your relationship with your father, and he won’t take advantage of that. It’s not who he is and it’s not what you deserve. 

You’re gonna go back to college in a few weeks and he can pretend that none of this ever happened. You’re gonna meet a nice boy your age, become a lawyer, get married and live your life the way you’re supposed to. Eventually, the memory of you writhing underneath him, your voice so sweet and needy in your desperation, surely won’t be as vivid as it is right now.

But then he found your panties between the cushions of his couch, still damp with your arousal, still smelling of you. His mind started wandering, conjuring images that he should be ashamed of. The things he could do to you, the things he could show you. 

It’s like he’s lost in a haze, stroking his throbbing cock to fantasies of you, all the depraved shit that some respectful fellow student would never do, but that he knows you crave. He hears your whimpers so clearly in his head, pictures your face, so pretty begging him for things only he knows how to give you, until he releases himself all over the lacy bit of fabric that’s clutched between his fingers. 

But now you’re not answering, and shame is swirling in his stomach, surely now he’s overstepped, why did he even think– 

His racing thoughts are interrupted by the quiet ping of his phone and a message from you. Just a photo, no text. 

His eyes widen, taking in the image. He can’t see your face, only the shape of your tits, already so familiar to him, covered in dark, lacy fabric. Exactly the same color, exactly the same pattern as the fabric that he soiled and photographed to send to you.

You put on the matching bra for him, he realizes. Which is probably why it took you longer than usual to answer, you had to get into the lingerie and put yourself all prettily on display for him. He drinks in the shape of you, the skin that he knows would feel so soft underneath his touch, the swell of your breasts, the nipples hidden behind lace, how they would harden for him, how you would squirm if he–

Desire starts coursing through him again, and he feels like a teenager, reduced to this by just a photo. His thumb finds your name on the display almost instinctively.

“Fuck, baby.”

The rasp of his voice hits your ear as soon as you accept the call. Your heart had been hammering away inside your chest since you hit send on the photo. 

“You like it?” 

You hate how needy you sound, how desperate for his approval. David exhales sharply and you wish you were with him again.

“Trust me, I like it very much.” 

Your cheeks heat at his tone. He blows all other thoughts out of your head. You forget how rejected you felt, how you told yourself you wouldn’t let it happen again. It doesn’t matter, not when he talks to you like this. You whisper a thank you and he chuckles. 

“Are you in bed, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip, considering the words resting on the top of your tongue. Deciding to take the leap. “Wish you were here too.”

You don’t need to see his face to know how he purses his lips, how he slowly curls them into a smirk.

“Mhm? What would you like me to do if I was?” 

Your face burns hotter. 

“I– Touch me, use your fingers to–” 

He groans, a rich, deep sound in your ear. You’re still sore, but your fingertips ghost down your body anyway, chasing the need that’s building up between your legs again. You gasp when they find your clit, already swollen and covered in your slick. 

“Are you touching yourself right now?”

“Yes, please David, I need–”

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you.” 

He keeps talking to you, low murmurs in your ear, directing your fingers over your body. He doesn’t let up until you’ve come twice, until he’s reduced you to a whimpering mess without even being there. 

He doesn’t apologize for earlier, not directly at least. You didn’t expect him to. In a twisted way, that you’re not sure anyone but the two of you would understand, this was his apology. 

You’re not sure what changed his mind, but he doesn’t go back to his distant self afterwards. Maybe he’s come to the same realization as you. That neither of you is going to be able to stay away. 

He’s on your mind constantly, you catch yourself checking your phone for new messages way too often and smiling down at the screen whenever he’s texting you. You know that you shouldn’t act like this, shouldn’t give him that much power in your mind. But it feels so good, to be seen, to be wanted like that. 

You’re both busy; he’s working on an important case and you’re in desperate need to catch up on job applications and college work, which you’ve neglected over the past few days, as your father is quick to remind you. 

But you keep exchanging messages, keep sharing hushed whispers at night. It never lets up, the thrill of his voice guiding your fingers and hearing the sounds that he makes when he’s putting his hands on himself. Knowing that it’s you, the thought of you that elicits them. 

You’re having dinner with your father, who is home earlier than most days, the brightly lit dining room reflecting off the massive windows, when the bubble bursts. 

“You remember Dave, right? From the country club?”

You freeze, your fork hovering in the air over your plate. He knows, your mind screams. No, there’s no way he would know. 

You fight hard to appear nonchalant, to not let your face betray you. You nod, humming questioningly in a way that you hope sounds innocent enough. 

“I told you how he got divorced recently, didn’t I? It’s been hard on him, poor fella…” 

Your dad sighs and shakes his head. You furrow your brow, at a complete loss where this conversation might be going. 

“Well, guess who got him a date?! Cheryl from the office is single and I realized, she’s perfect for him! An amazing match. He never goes out, always been a bit of a loner, I guess… But I set them up and they went out last night! Great, huh?” 

Your mind is running a mile a minute. You force a weak smile, lifting your head to meet your father’s proud grin. 

“Y-yeah, dad. Great,” you echo. You feel hollow.

He leans back in his chair, looking extremely pleased with himself. 

“Looks like I’m gonna have to play matchmaker for you too, eventually, with the way things are going, hm?” 

Under different conditions, the snide remark about your dating life and how he’s never been even remotely happy with any guy you had dared to bring home, would sting a lot more. Right now though, you’re reeling from the fact that David went out with another woman last night. 

“Sure,” you whisper. “May I please be excused?” 

You don’t wait for an answer, already pushing back from the table and rushing up the stairs. Back in your room, you grab your phone, scrolling through your past messages. You didn’t hear from him last night, which you hadn’t found weird at the time, but it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth now. 

Maybe he finally realized that someone his age would be much better suited for him. A real woman, not some little girl who still goes to school, calls him drunk in the middle of the night and can’t stand up against her father. Of course that’s not what he wants. 

You pace in your room, thoughts running through your head. Do you confront him? You never talked about it, never discussed exclusivity, but still… You don’t want anyone else and you had thought that he wouldn’t either.

After tossing and turning in your bed for hours, you decide not to ask David about it, to not contact him at all. Maybe that’s for the best. Save him the trouble of letting you down. It’s like a weight pulling under, the uncertainty and fear of this being it tying itself into a tight knot in your stomach. But you’ve been desperate enough for him already, you try to reason, you need to stop embarrassing yourself by running after him. 

He texts you the next day, sounding just the same way he always does. You can’t bring yourself to not reply to him at all, but it’s clipped, one-sentence answers, which he picks up on soon enough. His name lights up your phone as you’re hunched over your desk in your bedroom, pondering over an essay that you’re supposed to write over the break. 

“Hello?” 

“Sweetheart.” The deep smoothness of his voice travels from the speaker right under your skin, holding you under his spell the way he always does. “Is something wrong?”

You bite your lip, muttering a no in reply. You sound like a petulant teenager, everything that you don’t want him to see you as.

“Now why do I not believe that?”

You hear his smile in the way he sounds. You want to see him so badly, want to be on the receiving end of that smile. You wonder if Cheryl from the office got to see it last night too. If he’s given her all the parts of him that he’s given you. 

“Dunno.” There’s a sting in your voice, not unlike the sting that you feel piercing through your heart at the thought of him with someone else. 

Dave frowns at the way you sound. You’re never this short with him, never seemed so sad since that night you called him drunk and he turned you down. And even then, it was different, not dismissive the way you are now. 

His anxious mind immediately provides him with a variety of explanations. Maybe you’ve finally come to your senses and realized that you don’t want him. That you don’t want a man twice your age, that him wanting you actually makes him a fucking creep, that he isn’t as great as you’ve built him up to be in your head. Maybe you’ve realized that what you’re doing is wrong. He wouldn’t blame you for it. One of you should be reasonable and end things for good. He has been telling himself that.

But you sound so upset that worry settles in his gut. He feels that pull towards you again, only that it’s not explicitly sexual this time. He just really needs to see you, to touch you, to make sure that you’re okay. 

The invitation for you to come over leaves his lips without thinking about it, just the overwhelming need to have you close. You pause, so long that he gets even more uneasy, but eventually you agree.

Dave knows that something is wrong as soon as he opens the door. You look smaller, slightly curling in on yourself. You don’t meet his gaze, eyes downturned and without the spark in them that he sees in his mind when he thinks about you. He pulls you into a hug, one that you barely return.

His bedroom door is once again firmly closed, and he’s directing you towards his couch again. Still the last invisible line, the one that he tells himself will keep him from letting you in all the way. Your eyes linger there for a moment, he can almost see the wheels turning in your head. You deflate even more.

He hates to see you like this. Fights the urge to wrap you in his arms, satisfy his hunger for your lips and fuck you until every trace of that sadness written over your face is erased.

The door that you presume leads to his bedroom is closed, just like the last time you were here. You wonder if he opened it for Cheryl, if she got to see a part of him that you didn’t. Then again, he probably treated her like a lady. Wined and dined her properly, maybe a chaste kiss to say good night. Because she’s someone who’s right for him, someone worth putting the effort in. Not the quick fuck that you had been. 

He probably invited you over to tell you in person that he really can’t see you anymore. That he means it this time. You suppose that in his mind, that’s the decent thing to do. You think that you would have rather had him text you about it. That way you wouldn’t have to pretend, wouldn’t have to tell him to his face that it’s fine, that you understand, don’t worry.

Still, he called and you came running. Like a fucking idiot. 

You sit down on the edge of his couch, decidedly keeping the images of the last time you were here buried in your memories. “Do you want something to drink?” You shake your head no and he sits down beside you. You’re acutely aware of his presence, of the simmering need that you feel for him, even now. Please just get it over with.

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know.” You’re not looking at him, keeping your eyes on your hands, your fingers gripping each other tightly, tense like the rest of your body.

“Do all what?” 

You bite your lip, attempting to swallow down the anger at the fact that he’s gonna make you the one to say it, but it’s no use. Your eyes fly up to meet his. 

“Make me come here, to talk to me in person, or whatever it is you think you’re doing. You– you could’ve just texted me.”

He furrows his brow, a hint of defensiveness in his warm brown eyes. 

“What are you talking about?” 

You scoff. “My dad told me. About your date.” You’re never like this, your voice biting and your eyes glaring. You’re never like this and you have no right to be like this now, getting worked up over the end of something that never even was, not really. “I’m sure she’s nice. A great match, he said, so you’re gonna tell me to fuck off. It’s okay, I understand.”

Your voice breaks on the last word. A lump is building in your throat and your eyes burn with unshed tears. This can’t be happening. It’s bad enough that you feel this much about it, but it’s indefinitely worse to have him know it. 

David’s expression softens. “Oh, sweetheart. That’s not–” He slips one hand in between yours, gently pries your fingers away from each other. “You thought that’s why I asked you to come over here?” 

You shrug, once again unable to meet his gaze. 

“The date was shit. I wouldn’t even have gone if Jim hadn’t kept bugging me about it.”

Inhaling deeply, you slowly trail your eyes up to his face again. 

“Really?”

He nods, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest. His lips press against your forehead. 

“Promise.” He sighs. “You sounded so upset, that’s why I asked you to come–”

You sniffle, suddenly feeling stupid about the whole scene you made. He holds you a little longer, and you revel in his scent that’s engulfing you, in the warmth and solidness of his body. When he finally pulls away, his hand finds your chin and lifts it until you’re looking straight at him. A hint of amusement is glinting in his eyes.

“Were you jealous, baby?” 

You’re well aware that he can see right through you, but shake your head anyway. He allows himself a grin.

“What then? Worried that you’ll find no one else to fuck you like I do?” 

Heat is burning in your cheeks, but you can’t help but laugh. He’s not wrong, at least partially. 

Your lips curling up and the soft laugh tumbling out of you soothes him, eases the sting in his chest. The severity of your reaction to the idea of him dumping you for another woman took him off guard. He never wants to see that kind of hurt written over your face ever again. 

He should have told you, he realizes that now. He knew nothing would come out of meeting with that woman that Jim had been boasting about all week, but what was he supposed to say? No need pal, I already got everything I need fucking your daughter? 

He doesn’t know when you began feeling like everything he needed. He knows that you shouldn’t. He knows that he shouldn’t check his phone as often as he does, shouldn’t spend his days fantasizing about you, shouldn’t imagine you by his side almost constantly. 

But how can he not, when you’re looking at him like this, your eyes so wide, so filled with trust. Always ready, always desperate to give him everything of you. Like a dream come true that he didn’t know he had. 

“Maybe,” you admit, teasingly but still so, so soft. Everything about you is so fucking soft. His to touch, his to defile. Because, inexplicably, you fucking let him.

He needs to reassure you that he’s worthy of that trust. He leans in closer, feels your breath ghosting over his face as his nose nudges against yours. He pauses, searches your expression for a moment. You dip your chin down in a tiny nod and he’s onto you, chases your mouth with his. He pours all the emotion that he doesn’t understand, can’t begin to name, into the kiss. How much he misses you, how often you are on his mind. How he doesn’t want to hurt you, wants to do right by you, but has no clue how.

Your lips move against his with more fervor, a mess of tongues and teeth clashing against one another. Your whimpers drip into his mouth, leaving him drunk off you. Heat spreads through him, like a fire that’s going to consume you both. He thinks that he wants it to. 

He trails kisses down your throat, sucks at the skin, relishes in the shivers that it sends through your body. You grasp at his shirt, trembling fingers fumbling with the buttons, but he stops you. Nipping at your collarbone, he looks up at you, takes in your wide blown pupils, the hunger in your eyes.

Maybe this is all he can give you, but he’s going to do that right. He’s going to give you what he can, as long as you let him. 

He hooks his fingers under the neckline of your dress, pulls it down a little, inhales the sweet scent of your perfume. Every new inch of your skin that he reveals fills him with the need to worship it. 

“Will you let me make it up to you, sweetheart?” He mouths at your skin again, his eyes still trained on your face. “Let me make you feel good?” 

You nod eagerly, a breathy please, David falling from your lips. He runs his hands up your thighs, marvels at the almost feverish warmth of your skin, before he lifts your dress and helps you pull it over your head. 

Your underwear is white this time, a picture of innocence that only he knows is an illusion. His arousal swells at the thought, his cock pushing against the confines of his pants. 

“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this,” he admits, his hands trailing over your waist, tightening his grip momentarily and enjoys watching you squirm in response. “I think about you all the time.” 

Your gaze flickers for a moment, and he realizes what he just said. It’s not a lie, but also not a truth that he intended for you to know. You bite your lip, expression turning thoughtful for a moment. Then a small smile spreads over your face. 

“M–me too,” you whisper, a bit shy, like you’re still half-expecting him to take it back, but putting your trust in him anyway. 

He has to kiss you again, remove all remaining doubts about how much he wants you from your mind. Licking into your mouth, he starts toying with the cups of your bra, pulling them down just so that his fingertips can graze over your nipples. You press your body into his touch, your back arching off the cushions, and he undoes the clasp, lets the fabric fall away from your body. 

He runs his fingers over your flesh, teases the hardening buds, loves the way you keen into his mouth in response. Palming your tits roughly, he pulls away a little to look at them. He doesn’t think that he’ll ever tire of the sight of his hands on you. 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmurs. “Like you were made for me.” It stings only a little right in this moment, while he’s touching you, to know that you are not. He can keep pretending, for a while. It’s worth it, seeing how you light up at the praise, how you drink in his every word, sinking deeper into his touch. His, his, his.

David peels your panties off of you, the image of the white lace against his hand one that you know will burn itself into your memory. His eyes linger on the fabric, a grin slowly growing on his face. Arousal tingles at your spine at the sight. You’re entirely bare now while he hasn’t removed one item of clothing. The obvious power dynamic leaves you feeling vulnerable, you and your body at his mercy, but you trust him. To treat you the way you want, need to be treated, to push you to your limits and to still keep you safe.

The weight of his hands lands on your thighs, slowly pushing them apart, making room for his body between them. You’re acutely aware of how wet you are, and how clearly he can see it right now, with your folds all spread out right in front of him. You feel your slick coating your inner thighs, feel his breath ghosting against it.

He groans at the sight and sinks to his knees, almost at eye level with your pussy. The realization of what he’s about to do sinks in as he leans forward and places a gentle kiss against your clit that has you trembling. But still–

“Y–you don’t have to do that,” you stutter, suddenly feeling a different kind of vulnerable. A shame that you can’t explain starts welling up inside of you. 

He pulls back, sitting back on his haunches and looking up at you. His hands gently push your thighs back together, leaving you less exposed. 

“Do you not want me to?”

You bite your lip, fighting not to avoid his gaze. “I don’t know. I– I’ve never–” Your voice trails off. A fire is burning in his eyes, intimidating you. 

“No one’s ever eaten you out?” He sounds incredulous. 

You shake your head, shoulders moving up in a shrug, a wave of embarrassment growing in you. “Men don’t really… like to. In my experience.” 

He sighs and leans forward, presses a soft kiss to your left knee. “Most men are idiots.” It’s mumbled into your skin, lips moving against it. His fingertips inch up your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “You deserve to feel good, baby.” His voice sinks into your skin, low and raspy, and you have no choice but to believe it. “Will you let me make you feel good?” he asks again.

His dark eyes are on you, his fingers still tracing shapes over your skin. So close to where you want him. You’d let him do anything. 

“Please, David,” you whisper, for the second time. 

He pries your legs back open, a low growl in his throat as you’re spread out for him. Then he dives in, licking and sucking at your clit, gently at first, but quickly getting more intense, until stars start to burst behind your eyelids and you’re gasping his name. It’s overwhelming, unlike anything that you’ve ever experienced before. 

He lets up momentarily, licking through your slit, drinking up your arousal that’s dripping out of you and groaning at the taste of you. His mouth moves to your inner thighs, kissing and sucking on the sensitive flesh. He bites down suddenly, sinking his teeth into your skin and you scream his name at the unexpected burst of pain that transforms into pleasure almost instantly. 

He does it again, and again, leaving his marks on your body. It hurts just right, the sensation of him leaving his trace on you, marking you as his. You clench around nothing, desperate to feel him on your clit again, to take you the final bit to the top. 

As if he was reading your mind, he lets up his ministrations on your thighs and kisses his way to the spot where you need him so desperately. Your fingers sink into his hair, tugging at the roots, and he looks up at you, smug pride glinting in his eyes. He licks through your folds, nudges at your entrance with his tongue, before his lips find your clit again, closing around the sensitive nub. 

You come within seconds, the waves of your arousal crashing over you so suddenly that it takes your breath away. His groans vibrate against your skin as he laps at you, drinking you down. You feel like you’re in heaven. 

David gives you time to calm down, gently mouths at your heated skin, licks over the spots where you feel the indents of his teeth, before he kisses his way up your body. You taste yourself on his lips when they connect with yours. It’s messy, and filthy, and you can’t get enough of it. 

You whimper when he pulls back and his eyes find yours again, his almost black, the pupils blown wide. He rises to his feet and looks down to where you’re spread out, thighs parted, on full display for him as he towers over you. He leans down, a finger tapping against your mouth.

“Open.” 

Your lips part immediately, giving him all the access he wants. He groans at your obedience, trails his knuckles over your cheek for a moment, before raising his hand to your eyes. He’s holding your panties again. 

“These are so pretty. Would be a shame to just leave them lying around, don’t you think?” 

You let out a sound, something akin to agreement. His grin widens. 

“Good girl.” 

His fingers push the fabric into your mouth, your spit soaking the material, mixing with the arousal that’s already sticking to it. You moan at the taste, your eyelids fluttering shut. 

His palm connects with your cheek in a light slap. Not hard enough to sting, but your eyes fly back open at the sensation. You grind down onto the cushions, desperate for friction as another wave of need floods you. 

“Eyes on me, remember?” 

You try voicing a sorry, but it comes out garbled and he chuckles. Soothing his fingers over the spot he just slapped. 

“There’s no need for you to talk. Just be a good girl and take what I give you, yeah?” 

Your body is buzzing, but your mind is blissfully empty. Ready to give yourself over to him, to submit to whatever he asks. It feels so good, so easily being able to please for once in your life. To follow rules and be praised for it. Simple. Safe. 

He wraps the lace around your head and ties it together in the back, effectively gagging you, leaving your mouth opened, the fabric stretching against the corners. Your desire is coursing through your body with so much force that it’s almost painful. 

He kisses you over the gag, pressing his lips against yours. One of his hands wraps around your throat, applying a hint of pressure. Your hips chase him, your arousal close to unbearable. He chuckles against your mouth before he pulls back.

“Such a good girl.”

He teases you endlessly. Drinks in the sight of you writhing under him as his fingers are back on your nipples, tugging them harshly and eliciting soft mewls from you. You look beautiful in the golden light of the evening sun that’s falling through his windows, almost angelic. 

An angel that he wrecked, already so fucked out when he finally sheds his own clothes and starts sliding his cock through your folds. He coats himself with the slick of your desire, taps his head against your clit, nudges at your entrance again and again without sliding inside. 

Your whimpering cries are music to his ears, your fingernails digging into his shoulders sting just right. You’re pleading with him through the makeshift gag, your words all muffled, and he revels in the desperation in your eyes. Loves the sight of it. 

“What do you want, sweetheart?” he coos, slides over your clit again. “Tell me.” 

You’re trying, trying so hard to get out real words, and he chuckles at your efforts. Deciding to grant you a little mercy, he pushes the head of his weeping cock into you. He throbs at the feeling of it, of how your slick pissy tries pulling him in deeper. You’re whining at the stretch, your hands desperately grabbing at him, before he pulls back again. 

Your eyes are swimming with tears, silently pleading with him. It’s like a rush. You’re always such a good, polite and well-behaved girl, so sweet, and here you are, completely bare and spread out underneath him, crying to get fucked. By him. He’s a bad man, he knows it. He doesn’t care, not when it feels like this. 

He smirks down at you. “Say please.” 

It’s obvious that you’re trying, your tongue struggling against the soaked fabric in your mouth. He lines himself up once more, looks at your face, at the desperate hope written out in your eyes. Then he slams into you. You scream, gripping his shoulders so tightly that he thinks you’ve drawn blood. He couldn’t care less.

Now that he feels your tight walls all around his cock, engulfing him with pulsing heat, it’s impossible to tease you any longer. He pulls back, just to sink deep into you, again and again. You cry out at every thrust, every time that he hits that spot deep inside of you that leaves you such a trembling mess. 

He can tell when you’re starting to tighten around him, your cries getting higher, and he knows that you’re close. Slowing down, he leans his head down to yours, his thrusts becoming more shallow. 

“Hold it,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting against the soft shell of your ear. A whine escapes from your throat, fresh tears falling from your eyes, your whole body trembling underneath him, your cunt squeezing him deliciously tight. He’s breathless, high on the control you’re giving him, on your level of obedience, doing every single thing that he asks from you. 

Letting you calm down a little, he busies himself with kissing every inch of your skin that he can reach. Almost bursting with arousal himself, he knows that he’s not gonna be able to keep this up much longer. 

When he speeds up again, he sets a harsh rhythm, jostling your body with every thrust, mesmerized by the way your tits bounce with the movement. Your walls start tightening around him again, pulling him in. He can’t hold back anymore. 

“I’m gonna come. Gonna leave you just as messy as those little panties of yours. ‘S that what you want?” 

You nod eagerly, more unintelligible pleads stumbling through the gag. 

“Fuck, come here–“ His fingers scramble, ripping the fabric out of your mouth to kiss you properly, to feel your tongue against his. 

His hips move at rapid speed, pumping into you and chasing both your orgasms. He’s breathless, high on the feeling of your wet cunt squeezing him so tight. You come with a cry, muffled by his mouth on yours, and the sensation of you clenching around him sends him over the edge as well. He buries himself deep inside of you, spilling his cum to leave you just as messy as he promised you. 

“Fucking perfect, like you were made for me, only want you sweetheart…” He’s rambling, barely aware of what he's saying, still lost in the bliss of his orgasm. The words only register when an unreadable expression flies over your face in reaction. Shit. He goes through things to say, ways to somehow explain, though he couldn’t even explain the words to himself. 

His mind quiets when you smile shyly and burrow your face in his neck. He moves the both of you until you’re a tangle of intertwined limbs, resting on his cushions, watching as the light slowly fades outside. You’re warm in his arms, your breath coming softly, fanning against his skin. It feels too right to be wrong, he decides silently. 

The peaceful silence between you breaks with a chime from his phone, a message from  your father. 

“Looks like I’m invited to have dinner at yours,” he says, turning the screen towards you. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, grabbing for your own phone to check the time. “I should get going.” 

He helps you get dressed, until your still soaked panties end up in his hands again. His eyes flit up and down your body, lingering on the hem of your skirt, on the bare thighs beneath them. You take a step closer, your hand stretched out for them, but he pulls them away, sliding them into his pocket. 

A smirk grazes your features as you take another step closer. “Again? Really?” 

He shrugs, takes your hand to pull you into him. Your responding giggle is a sound that he’ll never get tired of. He sneaks a hand under your dress, palms your bare ass and presses your body against his. 

“Be a good girl and stay like this, for dinner,” he murmurs against your lips, before he kisses you once more. 

A grin slowly grows on your face as you realize what he’s saying. 

“Deal,” you agree, your eyes glinting. 

You’re sitting down next to him, sliding into the chair beside him with the most innocent, sweetest smile to both your father and him. You’re still wearing the dress that you left his place in, the one that, if you’ve been good, you’re bare underneath. 

He reaches for you almost instantly, hidden under the tabletop, the pull towards your skin too strong to resist. You tense up for a moment, throwing him a quick glance, before you relax into his touch. He draws circles, featherlight on your skin, and you part your thighs a little more, allowing him to slide further between them. 

Focussing on the conversation with your father isn’t easy, not when you’re right here beside him, so pliant under his touch. 

“So, how was it with Cheryl?” your father asks, far too invested in the whole thing for Dave’s liking. You’re looking down at your plate, your shoulders slumped forward. 

He shrugs, his hand traveling upwards, beneath the hem of your skirt, pulling your thighs apart a little more. “She’s nice, but– Not the right fit for me, I think.” 

The memory of meeting the woman flashes through his mind. “You must be Dave,” accompanied by a shake of his hand. All wrong, so different from the way it sounds when David falls from your lips. He had wanted to leave right then and there. His grip on you tightens at the memory. 

“Well that’s a shame,” Jim sighs, leaning back in his chair. “I really thought you two were a good match.” 

Dave grunts noncommittally, taking another bite of his food. 

“This one,” your father continues, his eyes falling to you, “has yet to find a good match as well. Not the best choices so far.” He chuckles, either blind or indifferent to the way you seem to shrink in your chair. You mumble something about focussing on school and your career right now, your voice so small that it breaks Dave’s heart. 

“Boys your age are idiots anyway,” he says, grinning at how your eyes widen, his emphasis on your age in no way lost on you. “Wouldn’t want to have them distracting you, right?” 

You nod silently, but fire burns in your eyes when his hand reaches so high that his fingers swirl through the slick that’s covering your upper thighs. Dave grits his teeth, fighting the urge to kiss you right here and now, consequences be damned.

It’s wrong, it’s so so wrong, but it’s like he’s lost in a haze, high on the feeling of your skin under his fingertips. On the way your thighs fall open so willingly for him, always such a good and obedient girl. On the way you both know that you’re bare underneath your skirt, dripping with the filthy proof of what you did together. On the way he’s staked his claim all over your inner thighs, to the point that he’s certain the indents of his teeth are still pressed into your flesh. All while your father has no idea what’s happening right in front of him. 

The secret rebellion of it thrills you, he understands that now. He wonders if that’s what he is to you, an opportunity to do something so deliciously forbidden that you couldn’t resist. He’ll gladly be that for you. The idea to be the person who brought this out in you thrills him too. 

He somehow makes it through the evening. Not a single conversation topic has found its way into his memories. All he can think about, all that he knows he will remember is the feeling of you under his tight grip. All his. 

You had excused yourself when your father brought out the whiskey, squeezed his hand under the table before you stood up, carefully smoothing out your skirt. Call me, you had mouthed, turning back to look at him before exiting the room. 

He knows that he will.

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider putting a smile on my face by reblogging, commenting or sending in an ask <3 thank you for reading!

[wheresarizona]

Gif by the amazing @pedropascalsx

September Part 2

Firefly Hospital, 2024

summary: Twenty years ago, Joel Miller was the love of your life. On the day of the Outbreak, you’d gotten separated and never saw him again—imagine your surprise when you find out the smuggler Marlene hired to bring the immune girl to your research hospital is none other than the man you thought you’d lost forever.

pairing: Joel Miller/f!reader (reader is a doctor with no physical descriptions)

rating: E (18+! No y/n, alternating POV, age gap (10 years), oral sex (f receiving), face-sitting, vaginal fingering, coming untouched, dirty talk, praise kink, canon-typical violence, minor character death, slight angst, emotions, love confessions, mentions of PTSD, handwavey medical jargon (went to google medical school for this one), Ellie being a cockblock, Ellie giving Joel so much shit, TLOU finale speculation, TLOU tv spoilers, TLOU game spoilers)

word count: 16.6k+

a/n: This goes over reader and Joel’s reunion after twenty years of being apart. It is dramatic and a fun ride. I’m playing fast and loose with game canon to speculate how the show finale will go, and this chapter follows a bit of how it goes in the game, with me taking some liberties. Thank you to the love of my life, @juletheghoul for betaing and being by my side.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Part 1 - Part 3 - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

20 Years After the Outbreak

He can’t fucking believe it.

He’s at a loss.

Months Joel spent with this little girl, bringing her across the country, keeping her safe, protecting her with his life—fucking Tess lost hers getting Ellie to the Fireflies, and they’re just going to kill her in order to reverse-engineer a vaccine? She was a lamb to the slaughter. He’d inadvertently brought her to her death.

Anger is threading in his belly, pissed off over everything he went through, feeling like it was all for nothing, not if she’s going to die.

They’re in a hospital that’s being used by the Fireflies to try and find a cure, Ellie taken from him, Joel kneeling on a hospital room floor after an armed guard had hit him, listening to Marlene talk about how this was harder for her due to her history with the girl.

Joel rolls his eyes because if she actually gave a shit about Ellie, she wouldn’t let this happen.

There has to be another way.

He has to find Ellie.

He almost lost her getting here, and he isn’t going to just step back and let her die, the world be damned, he can’t lose another person he cares about, not if he can help it. He’ll do everything in his power to find her and get her the fuck out of here—she’s too important to him.

Marlene’s in front of him, the guard at her side.

“This isn’t about me, her, or you,” she tells him. “There is no other choice here—my hands are tied.”

He scoffs, moving to sit on his ass and resting his arms on his knees, glaring at her. “Yeah,” he sneers, “you keep tellin’ yourself that bullshit if it helps you sleep at night.”

She sighs, shaking her head.

“March him out of here,” she orders the guard. “He tries anything. Shoot him. Don’t ruin this, Joel.” She turns on her heel, opens the room door, and leaves, Joel’s mind racing with what he can do. He’s sized up the other man, knowing he can take him, the only disadvantage being that Joel didn’t have any weapons, and he did.

“Get up,” the Firefly says.

Joel doesn’t bother moving, working out in his brain his next steps. He needs to get his hands on a gun, thankful they hadn’t handcuffed him, which would give him the opportunity to disarm the guard.

Get a weapon, find Ellie

His mind chants.

It was evident that she wasn't safe as long as these people were alive, so he’d take out anyone who got in his way.

“I said get up.” The other man raises his handgun, pointing it at Joel.

He sighs, groaning as he rises, rage pulsing in his veins, his jaw clenching, hands in tight fists wanting to hit this bastard.

Marlene left the door open, the Firefly’s back to it, his attention focused on Joel, not realizing someone had slipped inside quietly behind him. Joel watches as the smaller person claps a hand over the man’s mouth, their other hand slicing open his throat with what he thought might be a scalpel. The guard gurgles as he falls forward, the gun clattering to the ground, grabbing at his neck to try and stop the bleeding, to no avail, falling to the floor in a growing pool of blood.

Joel’s confused, his eyes a little wider, taking in his unexpected savior.

From the scrubs she’s wearing and the scalpel, he thinks she’s some kind of doctor. Her hair is hidden under a surgical cap, her face obscured with a mask covering half of it as if she’d left in the middle of an operation.

She’s bending down and picking up the gun, tossing it to him when she straightens, Joel catching it easily.

“Who are you?” he asks.

There’s something familiar about her eyes, but he can’t place who she is, not sure who the fuck he knew who’d be all the way out here and willing to risk their life for him, his brain coming up with no one.

For one hopeful second, even though he knows it’s fucking impossible, he thinks it’s Tess until the woman speaks, her muffled voice dashing his hopes, “No time to chat,” she says. “We have to get Ellie—I couldn’t do it alone.”

His eyebrows are in his hairline, all of the confusion and disappointment being replaced with hope once more.

“You know where she is?” he asks.

“Yes,” she answers, nodding. “Follow me. Your stuff is down this hall.” She points behind her. She’d discarded the scalpel, pulling a handgun from the back of her pants. “Come on. We don’t have much time.”

Leaving without another word, Joel is hot on her heels. Questions could wait until Ellie was safe, keeping his guard up and on alert, fingers itching to kill these assholes. Down the hallway, she shows him where his things are on a counter, him quickly putting on his backpack, their weapons drawn as they start moving, him covering her back.

“We’re turning up here,” she whispers. “Two guards—need to get to the stairwell.”

“Copy that.”

Eerie calmness washes over him, his brain working to figure out their next moves. She stops at the corner, glancing around it. Her head turns toward him, nodding, then she steps out, two shots ringing out. Joel sees the Fireflies crumpling to the ground as he follows.

“Clear,” she says, stuffing her gun into her pants as she goes to one of the bodies to take their semi-automatic rifle. Joel does the same, impressed with the clean headshots.

“Who are you?” he asks again, taking up point behind her again with the bigger gun.

“We’ll worry about that later, Joel,” she answers, already on the move.

“How’d you know my name?”

“Ellie,” she replies. “But I’d never forget Joel Miller.”

Does she know him? Does he know her? His eyes had trailed over her body for any kind of clue, but he came up empty.

“What’s your name?”

“That’s not important,” she says. They’re approaching the stairwell. “Ellie’s on the top floor, far end. The place will be littered with guards. They won’t hesitate to kill you, so show no mercy.”

“Wasn’t plannin’ on it,” he grits out. “Would burn this fuckin’ place to the ground if I could.”

“I’ll bring the gasoline. You light the match. Deal?”

Joel huffs out an amused breath. He may not have any idea who this woman is who’s helping him, but she’s competent, knows what needs to be done, and is funny.

He kinda likes her, whoever she is.

They don’t speak as they hurry up the stairs, and once they’ve exited, she jams a chair into the door to lock it.

She was right about the place being littered with Fireflies.

They move as a unit, in sync, somehow knowing what the other would do without speaking, taking out anyone who got in their way swiftly and efficiently. Rage fueled him, and she led him, knowing where to take cover, tossing each other more ammunition divested from those they’d gunned down. The guards had no idea what hit them, hearing screams and frantically calling for reinforcements over their radios, wondering out loud who was killing them.

It’s a bloodbath, a fucking massacre. Joel and this woman are ruthless in their endeavor to get to Ellie.

Blood is spattered on their clothes and skin, sweat clinging to their bodies, breathing hard when they enter a door and see where the operating room is. Joel barricades the door they’d come through with medical equipment to buy them time, his knees aching and back sore, heart racing a mile a minute.

“There will be a nurse and a doctor,” she whispers. “I should’ve been in there, too.”

He grunts in response, taking off his backpack to strap the rifle to it, putting it back on, and grabbing the handgun from his waist.

He’s hoping and praying they’ll make it in time, not sure what he’ll do if they don’t, the trek to the room feeling like it takes forever.

She pushes through the door first, him stepping in after her training his gun on the surgeon about to operate.

“Get away from her!” Joel angrily demands, his teeth bared, ready to shoot.

“What are you doing here?” the surgeon asks, moving to stand between them and Ellie, holding up a scalpel in defense. “You brought him here?” The question was directed at the mystery woman.

“Yes,” she answers, her gun locked on him. “We’re not letting you kill her.”

“She’s our future! You can’t take her! This is the only way to save lives!”

“It’s not!” she shouts, Joel hearing her anger.

“You’ll pay for this—don’t come any closer,” the surgeon threatens, swinging the scalpel around.

There’s no hesitation when she pulls the trigger, the man falling to the ground as the nurse screams, Joel seeing her reaching on a surgical tray for something sharp, his shot stopping her.

The room is cleared, his focus moving to Ellie.

“Sweet Jesus,” he murmurs, his gun going back into his waistband, not wasting another second to get to the girl, her in a surgical gown and oxygen mask, hooked up to an IV, her eyes closed.

“Come on, baby girl,” he says, carefully removing the mask. The woman had shouldered her rifle, moving to the other side of the table to carefully take care of the IV and bandage Ellie’s hand. “I gotcha,” his voice soft as he gently picks her up, his attention moving to the woman. “How do we get outta here?”

He watches as she tears off the cap and, finally, the face mask.

Stumbling back, he feels like he’s been shot, his eyes going wide, all of the oxygen leaving his lungs and making it hard to breathe, blood pounding in his ears.

It can’t be.

Since the night of the outbreak, Joel has been plagued with nightmares, reliving the horrors over and over again, self-medicating with pills and home-brewed booze to dreamlessly sleep. There were nights when he’d dream of the woman he once loved—her eyes, her smile, usually the two of them in bed with soft light pouring in from the window, and if his brain was being particularly cruel, he’d be on top of her, watching as she came around him—something he once loved to see, and was now painful, waking up harder than a rock, and too fucking sad to do anything about it except drink until he passed out. A vicious cycle.

Staring at the woman in front of him, it’s the same face from his dreams.

He’d kissed those lips, held those cheeks, spent hours studying every detail, and thought he’d never see it again—only in memory, another person lost to him.

It feels like he’s seeing a ghost, unable to believe that this is real, that she’s standing there, thinking maybe he might be dead, and he’s having a nice hallucination before his soul leaves this earth.

He croaks out your name, it feeling rusty on his tongue.

She smiles softly, and he sucks in a breath because it is you, and you’re alive, tears beginning to burn in his eyes.

“Hi, babe,” you greet with a wiggle of your fingers in a wave.

His heart constricts, his lips slowly tipping up, replying without a second thought.

“Hi, baby.”

Hours Earlier

“She doesn’t have to die!” you shout.

For months, Marlene has been talking about a girl immune to the infection and that she hired a smuggler to deliver her to your research hospital where you worked, but after most of Marlene’s crew didn’t make the trip here, you all assumed the girl hadn’t survived.

At least you had until she’d been found unconscious nearby, the old bite mark that’d healed and scarred with no sign of infection prominent on her arm, identifying her as Ellie Williams.

Tests were done to confirm her immunity, and now you’re discussing what’s to be done with the lead surgeon at this facility and Marlene, the doctor so adamant about finding a cure he isn’t taking into account that Ellie is a child and that there are other options than doing a procedure that will outright kill her.

“We have to extract the fungus,” he replies.

“Yes, and we can biopsy,” you argue.

“Can that be done?” Marlene asks.

He’s sitting behind his desk, you and Marlene standing in front of it. She’s called you in as a second opinion because you’re second in line behind the surgeon here at the hospital.

You and he speak at the same time.

“Yes.”

“No.”

Her attention moves to him.

“Lay it out for me why a biopsy wouldn’t work.” Her arms are crossed over her chest, looking tired.

“The fungus is intertwined with the brain, and removing it would destroy the host.”

“She’s a child, not some science experiment. Why does it all have to be removed?”

He sighs.

“It’s our best chance at making the vaccine—extract the entire specimen, and we’ll save millions of lives.”

“At the cost of an innocent kid?” Marlene asks with a raised eyebrow.

He leans forward on the desk, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Do you think I’m unaware of the situation?” he asks. “How many Fireflies have died for less? How many sacrifices have been made for nothing when this one will actually have results?”

She looks at you.

“Rebuttal?”

“In order to make a vaccine, we only need some of the mutated infection. It’s possible to biopsy some of it to get what we need—extracting the entire specimen is overkill and murder.”

Marlene faces him again.

“I want to agree with her,” she says, pointing her thumb at you. “If she can do it without killing Ellie, then I’ll have her take over.”

His eyes narrow.

“She’s not even a real doctor.” “My degree would say otherwise,” you snidely reply.

He met your gaze.

“You didn’t complete your residency—you were an intern when the outbreak happened. I was a practicing physician with years under my belt, and you think you know our best course of action for this situation? I have the experience. I have been searching for a cure for years while you were off being a medic.” The disdain is evident in his tone. “You may have risen in the ranks here over the last five years, but I am the head of this hospital.” He looks at Marlene. “I’ve been working for your cause practically since its inception. Our goal is to make a vaccine. You’ve trusted me here for years to do our work, and we’ve been fighting for this moment—this is our chance to justify all of the sacrifices and horrific things we’ve been through, and we can’t let it all go to waste because our cure happens to reside in a fourteen-year-old girl—you have to trust me on this, a biopsy is not enough, we need it all to ensure the vaccine is made.”

“That’s horse shit!” you exclaimed, throwing up your hands.

Marlene holds her hand up to you, her attention on the surgeon.

“What if this was your daughter?” she asks, well aware that he has one, who’s also a Firefly.

“I wouldn’t hesitate,” he answers. “One life for millions of others? I think it’s worth the sacrifice.”

She nods.

“Do it.”

“Marlene, I can—” you start to protest.

She turns to you, cutting you off, “We have to do whatever it takes to be successful—if you don’t agree, you can leave. It’s being done with or without you, but you're not welcome back once you step outside those doors.”

Your mouth falls open, anger swirling in your gut.

This is murder. They’re going to kill this girl, and what if it doesn’t pan out to anything? This isn’t sitting right with you, not when there are other options. You’ve been with the Fireflies for years, a way to survive and try to do some good, but seeing what they’re willing to do for a cure has made you disillusioned with the group—the experimentations, infecting people to try out vaccines that failed—and now there’s a real shot at getting somewhere, and they want to kill the person who’s giving it to them.

Can you get her out?

Can you save her?

That smuggler she came with managed to get her across the country in relatively good shape, and you have to assume he fought and killed to keep her safe.

Would he help you?

Two against dozens of armed guards sounds like a suicide mission, but what will the Fireflies resort to if this all fails?

As the surgeon said, you spent years as a medic, which meant you were traveling, protecting yourself, gaining your skills as a doctor and in self-defense, not shy about guns, blood, or carnage.

If they’re going to do whatever it takes, then you will too, in order to save this girl.

“Am I understood?” Marlene asks.

“Yes, ma’am,” you reply.

“Good.” She glances back at the man. “I’m gonna go tell Joel.”

The name has a jolt running through you, memories of a man from your past coming to the forefront of your brain—chocolate-colored eyes, brown waves of hair, a strong nose, broad shoulders—Joel Miller was a hard one to lose, and you never recovered, would never recover. He was the love of your life, and you were planning on spending the rest of your days with him and his daughter up until the world ended, and you got separated, hoping they were out there somewhere as safe as they could be in these times. You squash down the sliver of hope, knowing Marlene isn’t talking about your Joel.

“Why?” he asks, making you mad that he’s questioning her decency.

“He traveled with her for months. He has the right to know. Good luck with your surgery.” With that, she left, leaving the two of you.

“I know you don’t agree with me,” he starts, “but today will go down in history as the day we saved the world.”

Your hands clench at your sides, grinding your teeth.

“Right…”

“Get her prepped for the operation. We’ll start in two hours.”

“How many will you need on your service?”

He thinks it over for a second.

“You can scrub in—I won’t need your help. One nurse will do. It’s a pretty straightforward procedure.”

“As you wish, Doctor,” you say through your teeth. “I’ll get the operating room put together.”

With the discussion over, you leave the room, trying to figure out what you’ll do as you walk to the surgical floor, mindlessly changing into scrubs, and a surgical cap, putting on your medical mask last. In the back of your locker, you take the handgun, stuffing it into the waistband of your pants, thankful it was normal to walk around armed.

Before you go to the girl’s room, you stop at the nurse's station, having the few there decide who will help during the surgery.

You’re not going to bother putting the operating room together; that will give you extra time.

Frankly, you shouldn’t even bother seeing the girl, but something inside you wants to meet her, so you go, her sitting up in a hospital bed, legs criss crossed under her, reading some old magazine one of the nurse’s probably brought her.

Knocking on her door, you ask, “Anything good in there?”

She looks over the pages at you.

“Just two hundred and fifty-four hot new fashion, beauty, and body secrets. People really read this shit?”

Laughing, you answer, “Yes, especially girls your age.”

She makes a face that has you snorting, her setting it down.

“It’s crazy how much people cared about how they looked.”

Walking towards her, you smile, nodding your head.

“I know,” you reply. “It would take me a minimum of thirty minutes to get ready before leaving the house.”

Shock is on her face.

“Why did it take so fucking long?”

“Shower, hair, makeup, finding the perfect outfit—if I had a date, it took me an hour because I wanted to look as cute as possible.”

Sadness has your chest going tight, remembering your first date with Joel and how you stressed over what dress to wear, mentally high-fiving yourself when his eyes lit up at seeing you. He tried to be a gentleman, telling you he was old-fashioned and didn’t do sex on the first date, his mind changing by the end of the night when you’d both ended up naked on your living room couch.

“An hour?!” she exclaims, taking you from your reverie. “Why?”

“Well, when two people like each other very much—”

“Ew,” she interrupts. “Yuck, I don’t want to know. Anyways, I’m assuming you’re a doctor?”

Making a show of looking down at your body, you ask, “What gave me away?” You met her eyes again.

“Honestly, you’re not like any doctor I’ve met before—earlier with the tests, they were so…”

“Cold?” you finish for her. “Not very friendly?”

“Exactly.”

You sigh, moving to sit on the edge of her bed.

“There’s no bedside manner anymore,” you say. “It’s getting you fixed up and on your way—at least that’s how it is with newer doctors, the ones who’ve learned over time and didn’t actually go to school before the world went to shit. But I want to make sure you’re comfortable, and—” you look left and right like you’re making sure no one is around before looking at her again“ —It’s nice having someone new to talk to. People here are boring.”

She laughs.

“I can tell.”

It’s the right decision to save this girl. You know, in your gut, that it’s what you need to do.

Her spunkiness reminds you of Sarah, who also wouldn’t have been into two hundred and fifty-four hot new fashion, beauty, and body secrets. You’d bonded with Joel’s daughter over music, her loving your CD collection and always letting her choose what you listened to in the car, her tastes varying, which had a lot to do with her dad loving tunes from the seventies and eighties. She was a firecracker, always keeping her dad on his toes, and here was Ellie keeping you on yours.

“Let’s talk business, squirt,” you say.

Her face scrunches up, “Squirt?”

“Yeah, similar to ‘kiddo,’” you answer.

“You fucking sound like Joel—where is he, by the way? I woke up, and he wasn’t with me. People have been weird and will only say he’s okay.”

The worry is evident on her face, even though she’s trying to hide it.

“I haven’t personally seen him,” you reply. “He is okay, though. Marlene was actually heading to let him know how you’re doing.” And that they’re planning to kill you, you didn’t say out loud.

“That’s good. Don’t need him worrying.”

“I’m impressed he got you all the way here. What’s he like?”

You’re curious about the man.

“Tall, wide—” she held out her hands “—and a grumpy asshole.” Definitely not your Joel, then. “But he’s got his nice moments.” She gives you a conspiratorial look that makes you smile. “Don’t tell him I said this, but I know deep down he’s a fucking softy.”

“You’re secret’s safe with me,” you laugh.

Her face goes somber, her fingers fidgeting with the blanket under her.

“So, what’s gonna happen to me, Doc?”

Your stomach must drop all the way to the ground floor.

You couldn’t lie to her, but you didn’t want to scare her.

“They want to extract the infection from your brain to make a vaccine,” you answer truthfully.

“Who’s they?”

“Marlene and the head of this facility.”

“Oh.” She frowns. “You won’t be there?”

“I was asked to scrub in, but I won’t be operating.”

“Surgery, then?”

“Surgery.” You nod.

“Will it hurt?”

Smiling reassuringly, you answer, “Won’t feel a thing. You’ll be knocked out cold.”

“That’s good. Can I talk to Joel beforehand? I just want to thank him for everything.”

You frown, “That won’t be possible. I’ll happily relay a message to him for you.”

She looks downtrodden, eyes darting away from you.

“That works. Um, if I don’t make it, can you tell him I said thank you? For getting me here safe and not abandoning me? That I’m sorry for being such a fucking pain in his ass.”

You reach to touch her leg comfortingly.

“I’ll let him know,” you reply softly. “You know, I once knew a Joel before everything.” You wave your hand in explanation, her meeting your gaze to nod. “I was going to marry him,” you continue. “He hadn’t asked yet, but I knew he was the one. You never forget a dreamboat like Joel Miller,” you sigh wistfully.

Her eyes go round.

“Joel Miller?” she asks. “Your Joel’s last name was Miller?”

“It was.” You nod. “I loved him and his daughter Sarah.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

You’re taken aback, “I’m sorry..?”

“Sorry, sorry.” She puts up her hands in a placating gesture. “It’s just my grumpy Joel’s last name is Miller, and he had a daughter named Sarah.”

Your heart clenches, and your throat gets tight, asking thickly, “Had?”

Clear sadness comes over her face.

“I don’t know all the details, but she didn’t make it. Early on. Really fucked him up.”

Covering your mouth, you need a second, emotions warring inside you—hope that it is your Joel and unimaginable pain about Sarah, not wanting her to be gone, and thinking of all the years he would’ve been alone, wondering if he even had Tommy. It’s a struggle to keep the tears at bay.

“Your Joel Miller, does he happen to be from Texas?” you finally ask.

“Yeah,” she answers, nodding. “Sounds funny, too. His brother Tommy and him are from, I think, Houston, no, fuck, starts with an ‘A.’”

“Austin,” you breathe, eyes wide as saucers.

“Yeah!” she exclaims. “Holy shit, is my Joel your Joel?”

She’s excited by the prospect, and you’re doing everything not to cry. You need to go to him. You both need to save this girl, and once that’s done, you can have the long overdue reunion. He won’t want her to die, especially not after losing Sarah. It’s cruel that he’s been put in this spot, your blood boiling, knowing without a doubt that if he brought her here alone, the two of you could get her out, or at least you’d both die trying, and you’re willing, especially to see Joel one last time.

“I think he might be,” you reply.

“You gotta go talk to him!”

“I do.” You nod. “Do you trust me?”

She looks confused.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re going to be safe—you’re not going to die. Everything is going to be okay.”

“Okay..?”

“Good. You’re not going to see me again until after you wake up, so don’t panic, squirt. I’ll be there.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to go see him,” you say as you stand up.

She picks up the magazine.

“Do you need kissing tips? It says here that with these techniques, you’ll rock his world.”

You snort.

“Aren’t you a goddamn comedian—you must’ve amused the hell out of Joel.”

She looks proud as she smiles.

“I made him laugh—multiple times.”

“Way to go, kiddo. Don’t tell anyone where I’m going, and I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Sounds good, Doc.”

It was your goal not to arouse any suspicions, walking briskly towards the floor you knew Joel was on, stopping to snag a scalpel, and taking the back way that was a little longer but would have you bypassing a lot of the guards since you had some time to work with, the procedure having to be delayed with nothing being ready.

Hiding in the shadows of the next room, you gasp when you hear Joel calling Marlene on her bullshit, your heart picking up in speed at the familiar Texas drawl and rasp, a stray tear falling down your cheek.

He’s here.

He’s really here and alive.

The focus needs to be on saving Ellie, so you know you can’t trip him up by revealing who you are, thankful you’d changed into your operating clothes.

When his door opens, and you hear Marlene’s footsteps heading away from you, you’re moving, scalpel held tight in your hand, knowing you need to be as quiet as possible so as not to alert the other two guards on this floor.

You don’t even look at Joel when you enter the room, focusing on your task, and executing it seamlessly, only chancing a glance once you’ve tossed him the gun.

He’s older and greyer, years of surviving making his already broad shoulders even broader, his face hardened over time, having some idea of the hell he’s been through, and still, just as he was at thirty-six, at fifty-six, he’s still the most handsome man you’ve ever laid your eyes on. Your fingers want to smooth the furrow between his eyes, kiss those plush lips of his, feel his arms engulf you, hold you tight, and never let you go.

Twenty years and you’re still madly in love with Joel Miller—one look, and you’re a fucking goner.

You can’t get your hopes up, not knowing anything about his current situation, assuming he’s probably moved on.

Who wouldn’t want him?

There’s no way he’s been single all these years. You’ve had your own flings, nothing long-lasting or very memorable.

Who could compare to Joel?

He’s the blueprint of what you want in a man, and no one could or would ever measure up.

Was your life lonely?

A little, but why tie yourself to someone you’d never be able to love because your heart belonged to another?

“Who are you?” he asks.

“No time to chat,” you reply. “We have to get Ellie—I couldn’t do it alone.” You ignore the excited flutters in your tummy at hearing his voice.

He asks another question, and you answer, leading him from the room, weapons raised, ready to face whatever comes your way, comforted with Joel at your back.

When you reach the top floor, you quickly understand how he managed to get Ellie here in one piece—the man was a killing machine—brutal, merciless, breathtaking.

The way he fought was a thing of beauty, and if you hadn’t had to focus on staying alive, you’d have loved to watch him—seeing his strength, his competence, not wasting a single shot.

Somehow, it made him more attractive, which you didn’t think was possible.

The two of you worked together so well as a pair, covering each other, moving as one to mow down anyone who crossed your path, making it to the operating room just as they were about to begin.

You feel no remorse for killing the surgeon. Frankly, you haven’t felt bad about killing another human in years because there’s no room for feeling guilty when you’re trying to survive—you compartmentalize, knowing that it’s either them or you; if you hesitate for even a fraction of a second, you’re dead, so you’ve got to pull the trigger first, and you will.

You and Joel are on the same page about getting Ellie out of there as soon as possible. You quickly take care of her IV and make sure her hand is bandaged, smiling softly when you see Joel tenderly lift the girl into his arms, murmuring quietly to her, seeing just how much he cares.

There’s no doubt in your mind he would’ve attempted this rescue alone, and the thing is, you’re pretty sure he would’ve succeeded from sheer will alone.

His eyes meet yours, seeing his trust in you, him relying on you now to get you all out.

“How do we get outta here?” he asks.

There’s no point in hiding anymore, honestly surprised your cap and mask even stayed on.

You’re not sure what his reaction will be, hoping for happiness.

When he gets a good look at you, he stumbles back in shock, the blood leaving his face, watching his eyes go wide, mouth agape, seeing the shock, the disbelief, the hope, many emotions coming over his features as he processes what’s going on.

His voice cracks as he breathes your name, and you gently smile, knowing this is probably a lot for him, raising your hand and wiggling your fingers in a wave.

“Hi, babe,” you say.

It’s noticeable on his face the realization that it really is you, and you’re here, his eyes getting misty, lips turning up, the blood in your veins thrumming when he answers like he had a thousand times before without missing a beat, “Hi, baby.”

“You’re alive,” Joel says in wonder, his eyes mapping out your face, seeing lines from aging but still just as beautiful as the first time he saw you all those years ago.

“I am,” you reply, nodding. You point at him. “You are, too. Imagine my surprise when Ellie started telling me about this grumpy asshole named Joel Miller, who brought her here—couldn’t believe it was my Joel Miller until we compared notes. Sorry to spring this on you; I know it’s a shock.”

He huffs out a breath.

“That’s a fuckin’ understatement.”

You giggle.

Is this real? Is he dreaming?

You’re just as lively as he remembers, your smile like a breath of fresh air in this godforsaken world.

There’s a sensation in his stomach, it not feeling right, hitting him a second later that the fluttering is fucking butterflies, as if he was a goddamn teenager again, talking to his crush.

Twenty fucking years, and he still has it bad.

“God, I missed you,” you say.

“I missed you, too.”

“We’ll catch up after we get the fuck out of here. We’re going out that door.” You point at the opposite wall from where you came in. “Pit stop to grab her things that are on the way. Then the elevator to the basement garage—we can get a truck. There’s multiple.”

“I need you to do somethin’ first,” he says.

Your head cocks to the side.

“What do you need?”

“Come ‘ere, my hands are full. I need you to pinch me.”

Your eyebrows drew together.

“You need me to pinch you…?” you ask slowly.

“Yeah,” he answers, nodding. “Gotta make sure I’m not dreamin’—need to know you’re really here with me.”

Your eyes soften, quickly moving around the table until you’re at his side, smiling at him as you pinch his arm, leaning in to kiss his cheek, his skin buzzing where you touch, wanting more of it.

“There,” you say, looking at him through your lashes, and it has him gulping. “Believe I’m here, now?”

“I missed you so fuckin’ much, baby,” his words come out rough, feeling the tears in his eyes.

“I missed you, too, Joel,” you reply, rubbing his arm, goosebumps erupting on his skin. “Let’s get out of here—I wanna catch up.”

He nods, “Lead the way.”

He watches you getting the rifle into your hands, him following you out of the room, stopping to grab Ellie’s backpack that was left on a hospital bed, and you putting it on.

It’s a fucking maze to find the elevator, you knowing exactly where to go, guards showing up halfway to it, commotion erupting as you told him where to go, covering him and Ellie as the three of you moved quickly down the corridors, gunshots ringing out.

You’re both panting by the time the elevator doors close, you taking point in front of him with your gun at the ready.

Joel can’t get over you being here with him.

There’s so much about you that hasn’t changed since all those years ago, somehow keeping your radiance, your life, not losing yourself to the darkness, but underneath all of that, he’s seen how you’ve adapted—killing with zero hesitation, not afraid to do what it takes to survive, a ruthlessness to you that only develops after going through some horrible shit. Guilt makes his chest squeeze, hating that you’ve been out here on your own, surviving. He at least has Tommy, had Tess, and with how easily you’re leaving with him, he doesn’t think you have anyone, and it breaks his heart.

“Do we need to worry about runnin’ into anybody else down there?” he asks.

You glance at him over your shoulder, “They would’ve called everyone to the top floor, and I’m pretty sure we took out at least ninety percent of their muscle. I can’t imagine anyone being stupid enough to try and stop us.”

He nods.

“Thank you,” he says.

“You’re welcome. I’d honestly planned on trying to get her out before I knew it was you who’d brought her. I’m thankful you were here—you’re a fucking tank. Probably wouldn’t have even needed me.”

He chuckles, his chest puffing out a little in pride.

“If I’d had to do it alone, I’d be in a helluva lot more pain, so thank you.”

“Knees?”

He nods. “And my fuckin’ back—I’ve gotten old.”

“But you still look really fucking good,” you reply with a wink, and it makes his throat go dry, his heart hammering that you’re flirting with him, that you’re still interested in him after all this time, even though he’s gone grey, and rougher around the edges. You didn’t even shy away from what he’d do to keep himself and those he cares about safe; pretty sure you even liked it.

It’s been so long, he wonders if you moved on and if he even has a chance with you.

He’s had time to mourn Tess, thankful for the years he got with her, keeping him alive and not letting him self-destruct in his grief, but even though they cared about each other to a certain extent, they’d been using one another—he was the muscle, she was the brains, and he couldn’t give her what she wanted; offer feelings that weren’t hers to have, so what they had wasn’t all that romantic, there wasn’t time for any of that shit, and Tess didn’t much care for it, anyway.

There’s history with Joel and you, memories of a time when you’d been happy together, and being here with you is making him remember all of the good times—the feelings he had for you that he’d buried deep inside after he thought you were gone, coming alive inside him, consuming him, wanting to touch you, feel your soft skin under him, and kiss you—fuck, he hasn’t kissed in so long, Tess never being very affectionate, sex always quick and a means to scratch an itch.

He clearly remembers what sex was like with you—it haunts his dreams, the time you’d spend in bed, reliving the passion, the tenderness, the love, something deep down he’s craved since the last time he was with you.

The elevator opens before he can speak, the gun raised in your hands as you exit, Joel at your back, both of you stopping in your tracks once you’re out, finding Marlene standing there with her handgun pointed towards you both.

“What’s your plan?” she asks. “You save her today, but what about tomorrow? There’s a lot of shit out there. How long before she’s killed by a pack of clickers? If she even makes it that long without being murdered first. Face it, you can’t save her.”

“We’ll sure as fuck try,” he grits out. “Stop pretendin’ like you care about her. You were happy to stand aside and let her die.”

“For the greater good, to save lives.”

“You can shove the greater good up your ass, Marlene.”

She sighs.

“You can still do the right thing.” Her attention moves to you. “Do the biopsy like you wanted. All I care about is finding the cure. I’ll put you in charge of the facility. You can lead in the vaccine’s development.”

You scoff.

“You know as well as I do,” you reply, “that I’ll be dead if I step one foot back inside there. You’re lying, Marlene. You and the rest of the Fireflies will want us killed for what happened today.”

“And who’s fault is that?” Marlene asks.

“Yours!” you exclaim. “For not listening to me. This is all your fault.”

A gun goes off, and Marlene stumbles, falling to her knees, her gun skittering across the ground when she loses her grip on it.

She’s holding her stomach, a blood stain expanding under her hands.

“Don’t,” she chokes out, looking at you with her face contorted in pain. “Don’t kill me. Let me go. Please.”

You and he both know what needs to be done.

“She ain’t safe with you alive,” he says, her attention moving to him.

“Please,” she pleads.

Another shot is fired, and Marlene’s lifeless body crumples to the ground.

“Come on,” you tell him, heading towards a nearby pickup, shouldering your rifle as you get the door open for him to set Ellie in the backseat, you disappearing for a minute and coming back to put gasoline canisters in the bed, along with a bag, telling him it had emergency rations and a first aid kit.

“Where will we go?” you ask when you get in the passenger seat, Joel already ready to drive.

“Wyoming,” he answers. “Tommy.”

Relief washes over your face.

“I’m happy to hear he’s alive,” you say softly.

A stone is in his stomach that he’ll have to tell you about Sarah.

“Yeah, that asshole’s still alive and kickin’,” he replies. “His wife scares the fuck outta me.”

“Wow, can’t believe someone married him.”

He chuckles.

“Me either—do you know how to get outta here?”

The truck’s started, Joel already driving.

“Yes!” you reply, directing him.

There’s not much talking as you make your way out of the city, both too nervous and expecting the worst. It feels like he can finally breathe once you’re on the highway heading toward Tommy’s.

Ellie’s still passed out, the pickup rumbling down the road.

“How long will she sleep for?” he asks, glancing at you.

“Oh, an hour or two,” you answer.

He nods. “We gotta do anythin’ for her?”

“Nope. Just have to wait for the drugs to wear off—she was given a cocktail that could knock out a horse.”

He frowns, nodding once.

“It’s sweet,” you reply, him seeing you with a soft smile on your lips.

“What’s that?” he asks.

“How much you care about her.”

His hands squeeze the steering wheel, the leather creaking.

“She’s a pain in the ass,” he grumbles.

That makes you laugh, and God, he’s missed that sound.

“Ellie apologizes, and I quote, ‘for being such a fucking pain in his ass,’” you giggle. “She also wanted to thank you for keeping her safe and not abandoning her.

His heart clenches up.

“She said those things?”

Your lips tip down, frowning.

“Yeah. Wanted me to tell you in case she didn’t make it.”

“Why’d you wanna save her?”

“It was the right thing to do. I fought for a way that she’d survive the operation, and I was outvoted—couldn’t let them murder her.”

After losing Sarah and thinking he lost you, too, Joel had erected walls in his mind to keep the debilitating grief he felt at bay, shoving down his emotions and not letting himself feel—couldn’t let himself feel, not if he wanted to live, which was already a struggle. This made him cold, emotionless, a husk of a man, having to keep finding something to fight for to keep going, only allowing his rage to come out in order to kill and do what was necessary to survive without a single care.

Tess would poke at the walls without meaning to, getting glimpses of his tenderness that she’d bat away and make him close back up.

Ellie made it her goal to break them down, him imagining her with a sledgehammer, laying waste to the concrete and steel, making him care, making him feel until she’d made a hole big enough to crawl inside and worm her way into his heart, the kid one of the most important people in his life now.

And then there’s you, coming out of nowhere and making the walls left standing crumble to dust simply by being here—the memories, the history, the love, igniting him, making him remember what it was like to feel again, focusing on the strongest emotion that has him feeling warmth deep down to his bones, contentedness, pure happiness, the feeling so strong he’s almost breathless.

You’re alive and with him, Ellie’s safe and sound, and he’s happy, actually happy, for the first time since everything went to hell.

And you care about Ellie, which just makes him love you even more, those butterflies in his stomach going wild.

“Thank you again for all you did,” he says.

“It’s no big deal.”

“You coulda died.”

“Would’ve been worth it.” You shrug.

He smiles.

“God, I’ve missed you.”

“Same. I have missed you every day since the last time I saw you.” Reaching your hand over, you touch his thigh, sadness on your face as you look at him. “Joel, I’m sorry about Sarah,” you say gently.

He sucks in a breath, avoiding your gaze.

“Yeah,” his voice is thick, his throat so tight it’s hard to speak, but you need to know what happened, Joel knowing how much you’d loved her, treating her as if she were your own. “It, uh, was my birthday when everything went down.”

Your hand goes to your mouth, gasping, “Joel, no.”

“Yeah.” He swallows hard. “Worst fuckin’ day of my life.” Tears were in his eyes. “Held her in my arms as she died—fuckin’ military shot her,” he spits out. “Tryin’ to contain everything they just started murderin’, took my baby girl from me,” he chokes on the words, a tear slipping down his face. “Lost her and thought I lost you, too, found your house in flames.” He wipes at the wetness in his eyes. “Fuckin’ hate remeberin’ that night—my entire world was taken from me.”

“Oh, Joel,” you whisper, moving across the bench seat to be next to him, Joel welcoming the hug you give him, wrapping your arm around his belly, and resting your head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to go through all that, and I’m just so fucking sad about Sarah,” you sniffle.

He reaches to press a hand against the back of your head.

“I know, baby,” he replies.

“Was Tommy with you?”

“Yeah. He kept me alive.”

“What’d you do?”

He lets out a long sigh.

“A lot of fucked up shit.”

“Haven’t we all?”

“I guess if you’re livin’, you’d have to.”

“Isn’t that so assbackwards? What were you doing before Ellie?”

“Boston—smuggling.”

“Oooh, a criminal, isn’t that sexy.” His hand moves to hold the steering wheel again, gulping. “Sorry,” you say quickly, sitting up. “It’s rude of me to flirt with you while you’re explaining all these horrible things. I don’t even know if you’re still single; for all I know, you could have a wife and kids back in Boston.”

“No wife and no kids—I can’t, not again.” He can’t help the somber tone of his voice.

He can tell you understand from the look on your face.

“I get it,” you reply. “I, uh, made sure I couldn’t have children. The world’s too fucked, and I didn’t want to risk anything. So, had a fellow doctor help me out.”

He’s sad remembering how when you were together, you’d wanted kids with him, at least two, you’d told him, and he’d been excited by the prospect, seeing how much you cared about Sarah and her adoring you. It was painful to think about, but he’d asked his daughter a week before his birthday over breakfast if she’d be okay if he married you. She’d been ecstatic and wanted to help him pick out the ring.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Don’t be,” you wave away his apology. “Better safe than sorry.”

There’s a question sitting on the tip of his tongue that he finally asks.

“Do I gotta worry about a partner huntin’ us down to get you back?”

You scoff.

“No. Painfully single. Anyone I need to worry about?”

“Not anymore,” he answers. “There was someone months ago—they didn’t make it.”

“Jesus, Joel,” you gasp. “You can’t catch a fucking break. I know life is a bitch, but my god, do I feel like it’s taking a special interest in making you miserable.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, that’s how it feels sometimes. God must be laughing at me.” He glances at you. “I think things are changin’ though after today. Finally think I’m gettin’ a goddamn break.”

You lean forward, knocking your knuckles on the dashboard.

“We don’t have wood, but I’m being safe—don’t want to jinx you.”

“Thanks for lookin’ out.” He smiles.

“Always.” You grin.

“Tell me what happened with you,” he says. “How’d I lose you?”

It’s something he’s wondered for twenty years, needing to know what happened to you.

“As you know, I was interning at the clinic to complete my residency—”

He did know that. You were fresh out of med school when you’d met, honestly surprising him that you let an old guy like him get your number.

“And I’d had your birthday off,” you continued. “When they called me in, I went, but something didn’t feel right about halfway, so I turned around to head back to your place. A tire went flat.”

“The spare was flat, too, wasn’t it?”

“Yes…”

“I told you I’d take care of it, but you wouldn’t let me.”

“I didn’t want to be a bother!”

“You weren’t no bother—you were my girlfriend, and it was my job to make sure you were safe. I shoulda just fuckin’ done it. Fuck.” He hits the steering wheel.

He felt like this was all his fault. So much could’ve been different if he’d done this one thing.

“Hey, hey.” You rub his arm. “This isn’t on you. I was the dumbass.”

He meets your eyes.

“Twenty years,” he says. “Fuckin’ lost you for twenty goddamn years because of a tire?”

He can’t fucking believe it.

You’re looking down, “Yeah,” you whisper.

He sighs loudly, squeezing your thigh.

“Sorry about gettin’ upset, it’s just, God, think of what our lives coulda been.”

“I’m sorry, Joel. I fucked up.”

“No, baby. You were busy becomin’ a doctor, already stretchin’ yourself thin datin’ me. I shoulda done more.”

“You did more than enough, and you had your own stuff to worry about—Sarah, your construction company. I’m an adult. I should’ve made sure my shit was taken care of.”

He sighs.

“You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”

“I am.”

“What’d you do after gettin’ out of Austin?”

“Searched for you. Doctors were in need, so I traveled a lot in the early days offering aid and hoping I’d find you. Some years later, I got snatched up by the Fireflies, thinking maybe they had the right idea, eventually helping to try to make a vaccine. Was at the research facility for the last five years, but things were so fucked. I know I would’ve gotten out soon if I hadn't left today.”

“What do you wanna do now?”

He’s hoping you’ll say you want to stay with him, wanting you back.

“Um, well, seeing as I’m unattached, and you’re unattached, I thought I’d follow you around? Wherever you go, I’ll go,” you answer. “I’m not sure if you can tell, but I never got over you, Joel. Never. I thought I lost you, mourned what was and could’ve been, and I was never able to really be with anyone because I still loved you, and seeing you today, being with you, it’s evident I still love you. So, if you’ll have me, I wanna stay with you, I don’t want to be away from you ever again, and I know Ellie is important to you—I’ve known her less than a day, and she’s already pretty fucking important to me, too. She’s a good kid, and I’m glad you’ve got her. I’m just really fucking hoping you’d maybe want me around, too.”

His heart’s squeezing so tight it’s hard to breathe, so happy that you’d want to be with him again, but doubt rears its ugly head that this is all too good to be true, that you don’t know what you’re signing up for.

“I ain’t him,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re not who?” you ask, confused.

“I ain’t the same man you fell in love with.”

“You think I don’t know you’ve changed? We killed together today. You’ve been referred to as a ‘grumpy asshole’ by someone who’s been around you for months. I’m not expecting you to be the man you were twenty years ago—we’ve been through literal hell. I know I sure as fuck am not the same.” You grab his thigh. “We can figure it out, get to know each other again. However, I think it’s safe to say with how easily we’ve fallen back into things, there isn’t much to worry about.” You softly smile. “We’re not the same people we were before this shit, but I think the love’s still there. At least, it is on my end. You’re fine, babe,” you reassure, rubbing over his jeans. “Don’t stress. We can make this work if you’re willing.”

He met your eyes, seeing the truth shining brightly in the depths and knowing without a doubt you meant what you were saying, wanting to kiss you so badly.

“I’m so fuckin’ willin’,” he says. “I just don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Impossible.” You smile. “I’ll take you any way I can get you.”

He knows you mean it, and it has his heart swelling, thinking maybe things are changing for the better, that he’s being given a second chance at life, and he’s not gonna waste it.

“Wanna know the moment I knew you loved me?” he asks, reminiscing about the past.

It’s how he’d known you were the one for him.

A curious expression is on your face, smiling at him.

“Tell me.”

“When you didn’t even bat an eye at bein’ fired from the clinic in town for datin’ me.”

“Oh my god, I wasn’t fired. I was forcibly relocated.”

He chuckles.

“If that’s what you wanna call it. You datin’ a patient made it to where the only clinic that’d take you was an hour and a half away in the city.”

“You make it sound like I was dating you while you were still my patient—you were in my care once, and by the end of the appointment, you’d seduced me.” He snorts. “I was never your doctor again, so it wasn’t unethical. I had to be forcibly relocated for breaking a dumb clinic-specific rule that made zero sense because Janis was jealous you were dating me and not her and reported me. Fucking, Janis,” you seethe.

“If it makes you feel any better, she’s probably dead now,” he says.

You chortle before covering your mouth in shock.

“That’s fucking dark, Joel.”

“You were thinkin’ it.”

“I mean, yeah, the odds aren’t very good. You wanna know something, though, about the whole me being forcibly relocated to the city?”

He met your eyes, seeing that smile he loved.

“What’s that?”

“It was worth it—you were worth it. I’d do it all over again and happily be forcibly relocated so I can date you.”

That has him feeling soft.

“Am I still worth it?” he asks, barely above a whisper.

“Twenty years might have come and gone. I’m not that young piece of ass I once was—“

He makes a face, cutting you off, “You were never a piece of ass to me,” he says seriously. “I loved you—still love you, never fuckin’ stopped. Before everything went to fuckin’ shit, I saw us havin’ a life together—was gonna ask you to move in that night, had a key ready to give you. I wanted to marry you, have kids, and spend the rest of our lives together because you were my everything.” His voice cracks when he speaks again, “You and Sarah, you both were my entire fuckin’ world.” He clears his throat to compose himself. “I loved you so fuckin’ much I spent years tryin’ to find you. Years. When there wasn’t any sign, I figured I lost you, too, and with you gone, my last shred of humanity went, too, because I no longer had anythin’ to live for. I loved you,” he croaks. “I still love you, and I’ll never stop until the day I die.”

Tears roll down your cheeks.

“I love you, too,” you say.

His arm moves around your shoulder to pull you into him, hugging you as best he can and kissing your hair.

“I’m happy to have you back—want you with me if you can accept that I’m fucked up.”

“We’re in the same boat. It’s crazy what an apocalypse does to people.”

You stay like that, him holding you against him while you both talk, reminiscing about before, sharing your favorite stories about Sarah, comfortable with each other, and talking so easily like no time had passed at all.

An hour goes by, Joel navigating the road as you chat.

“I feel like I got hit by a truck,” a voice says in the backseat. Ellie sits up, rubbing her eyes. “My head feels so fucking weird.”

“Hey, take it easy,” he says. “Drugs are still wearin’ off.”

“Welcome to the land of the living,” you say.

She must notice how you’re cuddled up next to him, seeing her eyes get big in the rearview mirror.

“Woah, you really didn’t need those kissing tips, Doc.”

You snort, and Joel’s curious about what she means.

“What’s she talkin’ about?” he asks.

“She’s being a smartass.”

He huffs out an amused breath.

“She’s always a smartass,” he replies.

You move to look over the seat at her.

“Just feeling woozy? Anything hurt?” you ask.

“Brain’s all foggy. Nothing hurts.” She touches her head, looking confused. “What happened? Did they do the procedure?”

“They didn’t,” you answer, shaking your head. “We—”

He interrupts you, “They found somebody else,” he says quickly, knowing Ellie won’t take what you did well. “There was another like you, and they chose them.”

He doesn’t want to meet your eyes because he knows you’re staring him down.

Ellie’s not buying it; he can see it on her face, making him grimace, and swallow hard, knowing he fucked up, shame roiling in his gut.

“So, Joel is a fucking liar,” you say, eyes still on him. “I can’t believe you—she deserves to know.”

“She ain’t gonna like it,” he says.

“You don’t know that.”

“What won’t I like?” Ellie pipes up. “What’s going on, guys? Be straight with me, Doc.”

Your attention moves to her.

“They were going to kill you.”

“Oh,” she says quietly. “I was okay with dying if it meant saving people's lives.”

“That’s very courageous, Ellie, and I understand you want to help, but they didn’t need to kill you. What was the point if they had and a cure couldn’t be made?”

Her eyebrows furrow.

“They still would’ve had a chance to try!” she says hotly. Joel knew she’d be mad; the kid was determined to be a martyr. “It could’ve worked, and you took away my shot to help do some good!”

“They were going to murder you,” you calmly reply.

“I was willing to die!”

“Well, I ain’t willin’ to lose you!” His voice rises.

“It wasn’t your choice, Joel! It was mine!”

“You don’t know what you’re sayin’, and you ain’t listen’ to her either!” He tilts his head towards you. “They coulda gotten what they needed without murderin’ you, but they didn’t care.” He looks at you. “Baby, tell her your plan if you would’ve had the chance.”

“We could’ve gone in,” you say, “and biopsied some of the infection—it intertwines with the brain, so just a little bit somewhere that wouldn’t do you any harm.”

“Well, why don’t we go back there and do that then?” she asks, sounding hopeful.

You sigh.

“Because the Fireflies were so deadset on taking your entire brain, they were willing to kill anyone who got in their way.”

“You killed them,” she breathes, eyes wide.

“We did.” You nod.

“What do I do now? Why am I here?” She’s upset. “Why am I immune, Doc? Are there others like me?”

“We’ve never come across anyone else immune—somehow, the infection has mutated in your body. It’s a new development, something we’ve never seen.”

“And the people who could’ve figured out what the fuck is going on with me are all dead? Great.” She falls back into her seat, pressing her hands to her face. “I needed it all to mean something.” Her words are muffled, looking up at you with wet eyes. “All of the people who’ve died for me. First, my friend Riley who was there when I was bitten—the two of us planning to die together, and my turn never coming. Then Tess and Sam. It needs to mean something. Their deaths can’t have been for nothing! Why do I get to live, and they don’t? What’s the point of me being immune if I can’t do something good with it?”

“Hey, Ellie.” You reach over the seat to touch her arm. “There’s still hope. If I can get access to the right equipment, I can do the biopsy. It might take some time, but I’m capable and have spent many years working to find a cure. There’s hope, kiddo. They didn’t die for nothing, you’re still here, and we’ll have the chance to see what we find.”

“You promise?” she sniffs.

“I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Is there something you want to say, Joel?” You look at him pointedly.

He sighs.

“Sorry for lyin’ to you, Ellie. It wasn’t right.”

Her face lights up.

“Oh, Doc’s got you whipped!” she laughs. “This is so fucking funny.”

“Ellie,” he grumbles, glaring at her in the mirror.

“You’re fucking forgiven, Joel, but I’m still gonna give you shit about being in love,” she sing-songs.

“Christ,” he sighs.

“It’s okay, babe,” you say, rubbing his arm. “We’ll just gross her out with excessive PDA.”

That has him perking up.

“Excessive?” he asks, looking at you and seeing your mischievous smile.

“Wait,” Ellie says. “What’s PDA?”

“Public displays of affection,” you both say simultaneously.

She makes a face.

“Like kissing?” she asks.

You look at her, grinning.

“Yes,” you answer. “And inappropriate touching.”

“Ew.” Ellie mock gags. “Disgusting. I don’t need to see that shit. Keep it to yourselves.”

“Sometimes when two people love each other very much, they can’t help—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, sappy bullshit,” Ellie interrupts. “I’m good. Don’t look back here. I’m putting on actual clothes.”

About forty miles from Tommy’s, the truck breaks down on a mountain highway with no way to salvage it, having to walk the rest of the way, gathering your belongings for the half-day trek.

Ellie is a delightful conversationalist, telling you about the trip she and Joel made, poking jabs at him here and there that have him looking grumpy and you laughing.

The three of you are on high alert, even while talking, Joel and you gripping your rifles tight with the young girl between you as you walk for a few hours, finding an old abandoned farmhouse to stay in for the night when the sun begins to set.

It’s just your luck that there’s a stream running through the property, and though it’s too cold to fully bathe, you and Joel take the opportunity to wash up with a bar of soap pilfered from the home to get all of the blood and grime off your skin while Ellie explores the house.

There’s tension between you and Joel, and it’s thick, palpable, fueled by the shared looks and finding his eyes on your body more times than you can count; you’re just as obvious with your interest, checking him out at every opportunity, marveling at how his flannel hugs that chest of his, and his jeans making his ass look incredible, your fingers itching to touch him, and feel his warm skin.

To add fuel to the fire, he hasn’t kissed you yet.

Hours you’ve been back together, and not one single kiss to your lips, knowing he wants to, seeing his gaze lingering on your mouth when he talks to you, wondering to yourself what’s keeping him from going for it, and it was taking everything in you not to make the first move.

It has you desperate and aching, just wanting to feel his lips on yours and his arms around you once more, knowing it will be so fucking good, but in the back of your mind, you know his hesitance is Ellie. After what she said on the drive, he didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable, which was sweet of him, but it’s been twenty years, and you’re jonesing for just one kiss.

Inside the house, Joel goes about barricading all of the doors on the first floor with furniture, refusing your help, which leaves you to stand off to the side, getting flustered because the man’s putting on a damn show.

He pushes up his sleeves, allowing you to see his muscles flex as he works, seeing his strength while he manhandles a china cabinet, sinfully grunting, sweat beading on his skin. It has you all hot and bothered, thanking the powers that be, Ellie was in another room going through stuff so as not to see you openly gawking, knowing the girl would give you shit about it.

With the last door secure, he turns to you, wiping at his forehead with the back of his arm, a knowing smile on his lips when he asks, “Is there somethin’ on my face? You’ve been starin’ an awfully long time.”

You narrow your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Yeah, I was staring because you were being a damn tease.”

He matches your stance, crossing his arms and looking amused.

“I was movin’ furniture. How is that me bein’ a tease?”

“You were moving the furniture suggestively. You know exactly what you were doing.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. I was just makin’ sure we’re safe for the night.”

“Uh-huh, right. You’re a damn tease, Joel Miller.”

Three steps, and he’s in your space, your breath hitching when his big hands land on your hips, leaning his face close enough to your own that your noses almost touch.

You’d forgotten how much real estate his palms can take up, your skin tingling under their breadth, arousal burning in your belly.

“You think I was bein’ a tease?” he asks in a low rasp, his eyes moving between yours and your lips.

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Lemme show how much of a tease I can be, baby.”

Your eyes widen.

“Oh god.”

“You drippin’ for me? Thinkin’ about how it felt to have me inside? How I stretched you open? How you always felt me the next day?”

It feels like your skin is on fire, your body so hot, your heart pounding in your chest because now you are thinking about it, and it’s making you throb between your legs.

A whimper falls from your lips as he nudges your nose with his, mouths so close you can feel his breath.

“Bet your panties are drenched for me, baby. Bet you’d love me to slide my hand down them to touch your pretty little pussy, and feel just how wet you are.”

You’re pretty sure you’ll explode if he doesn’t do something, harshly whispering, “Fucking kiss me already, Joel!”

He smiles, chuckling.

“Got you all needy. Alright, I’ll kiss you.”

There’s a possibility your heart might jump out of your chest as he starts moving, knowing what’s about to happen.

“Fuck, I’m starving,” Ellie says as she enters the room. Joel steps away from you, and you cannot stop the strangled whine that comes from your throat. “You okay, Doc?”

Clearing your throat, you turn to face her, smiling.

“Just peachy.”

She seems to accept your answer, a book held in her hands.

“As I was saying,” Ellie starts. “I’m fucking starving. We got anything to eat?”

The three of you shared some jerky on the drive and nothing more, realizing you haven’t had an actual meal since that morning at the hospital, your stomach suddenly growling.

“Seems it’s dinner time,” Joel says. He looks at you, “You brought those rations, right?”

“I did,” you answer, walking to the rundown dining table that you’d plopped your bag onto, Joel’s backpack next to it. Rummaging through what you have, you say, “Looks like we’re having a variety of canned goods.”

“Got any peaches?” Ellie asks.

“Yep!” you answer, grabbing the can.

“Fuck yeah! I call dibs,” she replies, coming over to take it from you.

All of you sit at the table to eat, Joel across from you, Ellie at the head seat, everyone relatively quiet as you chow down, feeling his eyes on you and pretending like you don’t notice.

“What did you find?” you ask her.

She meets your gaze, setting down her fork to pick up the book.

“Something called ‘Jurassic Park,’” she says. “It’s got dinosaurs, which I thought was fucking cool.”

“The movies were really good,” you reply.

Her eyes get bigger.

“They made movies about this?” She holds it up.

“Yeah,” you answer. “Three. I’ve never read the book, though. Let me know how it is.”

“I’m gonna start it tonight after dinner. Did you ever see the movies, Joel?”

He doesn’t answer, too focused on you.

“Earth to Joel,” she says, leaning forward to wave her hand in front of his eyes, his head turning towards her quickly.

“Did you say somethin’?” he asks.

“Yeah.” She’s grinning, clearly amused. “You know, if you stare at her any harder, she might catch on fire.”

His eyebrows dip down.

“I wasn’t starin’,” he grumbles, his elbows on the table while he takes a bite, looking at his can.

“Jesus, Joel, I was not prepared for you being a lovesick fool. It’s honestly gross. Thank god you weren’t like this with Tess.”

His head snaps up as you tense, knowing she’s mentioned that name before.

“That’s enough, Ellie.” His tone’s severe.

You look at him, your eyebrows pinched together.

“Who’s Tess?” you ask.

Ellie’s eyes go big.

“Oh, shit,” she says. “I’m sorry, Joel. I didn’t realize she didn’t know.”

“Who’s Tess?” you ask again.

“It’s alright, Ellie,” He sighs, long and loud, running a hand through his hair. He looks at you. “Tess was my old partner in Boston. She, uh, died on the trip to bring Ellie to the Fireflies.”

“Oh,” you reply, nodding. “The one you’d mentioned. I’m sorry she didn’t make it.”

“It’s just how these things go,” he says.

“Your girlfriend died…” you say slowly. “You’re allowed to be sad about it.”

He grimaces.

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Well, I’m going to finish eating upstairs,” Ellie says, the chair scraping across the floor as she gets up quickly. “You two need to be alone.”

He looks at her.

“You don’t gotta do that,” he replies.

“No, no,” she says, grabbing her can and book. “I am so happy not to be a part of this.” She briskly walks away.

He sighs, pressing his hands to his face.

“What do you mean it wasn’t like that?” you ask. “If you were partners—clearly romantic…”

Meeting your gaze, he answers, “It wasn’t romantic. We cared about each other, we kept each other alive, and occasionally fucked, but there was nothing romantic about it. I didn’t feel that way about her, and can probably count on one hand how many times we even kissed. I didn’t love her. I couldn’t love her.”

You know the answer before you even ask the question, and still, it catches you by surprise.

“Why not?” you ask.

“Because she wasn’t you.”

“Joel,” you whisper.

“You were it for me. You were always it for me, and if I couldn’t have you, then I didn’t want anyone else.”

“It was the same for me,” you reply. “Felt cruel to try and be with someone when I could never love them, so I just didn’t.”

“Yeah. I was always upfront about what I was willin’ to give.”

“Gotta set expectations.” You nod. “Don’t want to hurt feelings.”

He lets out a long breath, looking away.

“Still got hurt anyway.”

“Honestly, if you told me not to fall in love with you, I think I’d just fall harder, so it makes sense.” You shrug. “You’re still a goddamn dreamboat of a man.”

His eyes meet yours again, crookedly smiling.

“Dreamboat?” he asks.

“God, yeah. Look at you. The grey is sexy, and my god, I think you have more muscles than when we were together.”

There’s a change in his gaze, seeing his eyes go darker.

“You wanna find out?” he asks.

“Um, yes, I would very much like to do a study and compare it to previous findings.”

He nods, pointing at your can.

“Finish eatin’.”

“But—”

“Dinner first,” he cuts you off. “Then you can check me out. Gonna need your energy.” He winks, and you gulp, rubbing your thighs together to ease the ache as you do as he says, both of you finishing your food in silence.

Ellie’s upstairs, and the two of you are alone down here, anticipation welling up inside you because you know at some point, everything between you both will finally erupt, and you can tell it’s going to be explosive.

He leans back in his chair when he finishes, resting his hands behind his head, his eyes on yours, waiting for you, and smiling when you push your can away.

His voice is deeper, drawl more pronounced when he speaks. “I was gonna stay down here and keep watch for the night,” he rasps. “You’re more than welcome to rest upstairs if you’re tired.”

He says one thing, but those darkened eyes of his say another.

“We both know I’m staying with you.”

Smiling, he replies, “I hoped you would.”

“There’s no furniture, so we’ll have to get comfortable on the floor.”

“If I remember correctly, you quite enjoyed the floor.” He smirks.

You suck in a breath, memories of the two of you being so turned on by the time you got back to your house, you didn’t make it past the entryway, him fucking you on the rug.

Your skin is burning up, clearing your throat.

“I’ll grab us some pillows from upstairs,” you say, the chair making noise as you get up.

He nods, “Okay.”

Quickly you’re moving, taking the stairs two at a time, figuring out which room Ellie’s in with the door shut, glad she chose one on the other side of the house and managing to find four pillows in the other rooms, hugging them to your chest as you return to Joel.

He’s looking out the living room window, his body tense, taking in his profile, his attention shifting to you when he hears your footsteps.

The center of the living room is bare, the lone couch against the front door, the coffee table pushed against a wall, leaving the space between you and him empty, stopping in your tracks when he faces you.

His shoulders visibly relax, the two of you stuck in place, staring at each other with looks like you cannot believe the other is there and alive. Years of thinking you’d never see one another again, and now you’re in the same room, breathing the same air, feeling so relieved and happy.

Something shifts, both of you realizing you’re alone and don’t have to fear any interruptions, the energy igniting, eyes going dark with want—all of the hours you’ve spent together building up the tension for this very moment, it snapping with the pillows falling to the floor, unable to keep away from each other any longer, closing the distance in quick steps.

His hands cup your face when he reaches you, crashing his mouth to yours, kissing you desperately, feeling his happiness, his joy, each press of his lips telling you he’s happy you’re alive and here with him. The passion has your fingers threading into his grey waves of hair for something to hold onto, gasping when he eagerly licks into your mouth, him groaning when his tongue slides along your own. Your blood is singing in your veins at how right it feels, how familiar it is, twenty years, and you still know how to kiss each other, finding your rhythm, not able to get enough, both so greedy you don’t stop until your lungs ache for oxygen, coming up for air with gasping breaths.

He’s kissing along your jaw, speaking into your skin, “I missed you so fuckin’ much, baby.”

“I missed you, too. Every goddamn day.”

Hands start wandering, needing to feel each other; he’s squeezing and touching anything he can; you’re working the buttons on his shirt and pushing it open to touch his warm skin, mapping out his muscles and the scars littered all over his torso that weren’t there before, wanting to kiss each and every one.

He’s sucking at your pulse point, palming your breast, his other hand grabbing a handful of your ass, your skin buzzing, arousal pooling in your belly.

“I love you,” he rasps as his lips meet yours again. “Never stopped lovin’ you,” he murmurs.

“I love you, too,” your words muffled, moaning when his hand finds its way between your legs, cupping your sex.

“I need you,” he says between kisses. “I’m so fuckin’ hard.” He grabs your hand to press it to his bulge, feeling him straining against his zipper, your cunt clenching at the reminder of just how big he is.

“Oh, god,” you moan. “I’ve missed your dick.”

“I’ve missed bein’ inside you. Wanna feel you again.”

As great as that sounds, your drenched panties indicating just how much you want it—there’s one small problem.

You pull back to see his eyes at half mast and glazed over in lust.

“We can’t fuck,” you say.

He frowns, eyebrows pinching together.

“Why not?” he asks.

“I love you, Joel. I love you a whole hell of a lot—would die for you, but you haven’t showered in days, you’re literally a walking UTI, and as much as I’d love to have that big dick inside me, I am not, risking an infection.” His frown goes deeper. “We can do other stuff, though!” you continue, and that gets his attention. “Hand stuff—no blow job until you’re clean,” you quickly add. He’s thinking it over, the wheels turning.

“I get it,” he finally responds. “You’re the doctor. You know what you’re talkin’ about. After a good scrub, you’d wanna?” he asks, looking hopeful.

“God, yes. I’m praying there’s someplace to wash when we get to Tommy’s.”

He smiles.

“They’ve got workin’ water in the houses—hot water. I can take a shower to get all nice and clean for you, and I’m sure he’ll set us up someplace with a bed.”

“Nobody better need us for a day or two, then,” you say, hooking your arms around his neck. “We won’t be leaving it.”

“Is that so?” He crookedly smiles.

“Oh, yeah. We’ve got time to make up for, and I want to feel you for days.”

He kisses your chin, lightly nibbling on it before trailing along your jaw to your neck.

“You gonna let me fuck you full of me? Fill you up?”

“Until I’m stuffed,” you moan, pussy pulsing at his words.

“Fuck,” Joel groans. “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me.”

“You love it, though.”

His head comes up, looking you in the eyes.

“Love you more,” he rasps, kissing you hard with his hands on your waist, thumbs playing with the waistband of your scrub pants. “When’s the last time you showered?” His question said into your lips.

“This morning.”

“Thank Christ.”

It’s disorienting how suddenly he pulls back, confusion on your face as he bends, roughly pulling your panties and pants down your legs.

“What are you doing, Joel?” you ask as the cool air hits your bare skin.

“I can’t fuck you, but you didn’t say anything about my mouth.”

He unties your shoes, sending them thudding across the floor.

“You’re gonna eat me out?” you gasp. “Right here.”

You have to hold onto his shoulders for balance as he gets your lower half undressed.

“Right fuckin’ here.”

Once you’re naked from the waist down, he’s groaning as he gets up, kissing you quickly before he moves the short distance to grab a pillow, letting it fall to the floor beside you when he returns, watching as he discards his shirt, and unbuckles his pants, getting them undone.

You can tell he has a plan, knowing exactly what he wants, and you’re happy to go along for the ride. A surprised sound leaves your mouth when he kisses you hard, all tongues and teeth, his body pressed to yours, his hand squeezing your bare ass, while the other moves down your front, moaning when blunt fingers slip through your folds.

“Fuck, you get so wet for me,” he says into your lips.

Your heart is thudding, pleasure radiating in your core as he pushes through your wetness, moaning when he circles your clit, unable to stop from canting your hips into his hand.

“Fuckin’ needy for me, baby.” He nips at your lip before kissing you hungrily, swallowing your soft sounds while your fingers grip his hair.

It’s been so long, and it feels just like you remember. Joel still knows how to play your body, gathering moisture on two fingertips to work against your bundle of nerves, applying the right pressure, circling it just how you liked, his tongue sliding along your own, heightening the arousal, building you up.

With your eyes closed, it feels like you’re back in that little house you had in Austin, him stopping by on his lunch break for a quickie, you both too horny to bother going to the bedroom.

“Wanna feel you come on my hand,” he murmurs.

You whine when he presses one thick finger into you, your hands gripping tighter in his grey waves, when the second one pushes in alongside it, stretching your walls and easing the ache of emptiness.

“Oh, fuck, Joel,” you moan. “It feels so good.”

He pumps his digits, hearing the wet suck of your pussy taking them, it sounding obscene between your legs, him working them in and out, filling you over and over again. His thumb presses into your clit, rubbing it while his fingers work; every nerve in your body lit up, fire burning in your belly, knowing this was going to be quick.

Your tongues are tangling, lost in what he’s doing to you, how he’s making you feel, memories of the past, happiness for the future now that he’s here, all of it overwhelming you, rocketing you towards your release, and he knows your close, has always been able to tell.

His mouth separates from yours to speak, “Open your eyes, baby. Wanna see you come.”

You do as he says, seeing his so dark only a sliver of brown remain, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his entire life. Panting breaths filling the air, hearing his fingers, Joel taking up your vision, focusing on him, and only him, the world dropping away, everything else forgotten.

He crooks his fingers, and a second later, he’s hitting nirvana, a strangled moan pulled from your throat, your legs going wobbly at the white-hot jolt of pleasure, him having to hold you against him with his other arm to keep you standing.

“There it fuckin’ is,” he rasps. “Come for me—soak my fingers, baby.”

You tumble over the edge with a cry of his name, waves of your arousal spilling around his digits as you tense up, clenching down on him hard, your body alight in ecstasy.

“So good to me,” he groans. “My good fuckin’ girl.”

His mouth is back on yours, kissing you deeply as he works you through your orgasm, every muscle in your body relaxing, brain a pleasurable haze.

God, you’ve missed him. It’s been way too long since you’ve come that hard, and now that you’ve gotten one, you want more, need more.

He breaks the kiss, removing his fingers from you, and you miss them already.

He’s crookedly grinning, eyes bright.

“Do I still got it?” he asks cheekily.

You giggle, playfully slapping at his naked chest.

“Yes, you’ve still got it,” you reply. “Played me like a goddamn fiddle. Haven’t come like that since…” Your eyes squint while you think. “Well, fuck,” you say. “Haven’t come like that since you.”

His chest puffs up in pride, and it makes you snort.

He steals a kiss.

“Fuckin’ glad I didn’t forget how you like your pussy touched.”

“Obviously, it was important to your survival—gotta know how to shoot a gun and finger pussy.”

He chuckles, moving to look you in the eyes.

“Yeah. Lemme see if I remember how to eat it,” he husks, seeing the hunger in his gaze as he lewdly sucks you off his fingers with a groan making your cunt clench. His digits leave his mouth, “Taste even better than I remember. Can I eat your pussy?”

“Yeah,” you reply, nodding your head.

Thinking about it, you’re pretty sure the last person who gave you oral was Joel. Your body is thrumming in anticipation, feeling your arousal coating your inner thighs, excited because you know it will be good.

He crookedly smiles, tenderly kissing you before he gets onto the floor, his head on the pillow while he lays on his back.

This is where you get confused because you should be the one in that position, right?

Tapping on his chest, he says, “I need you to sit right here.”

That’s when it hits what he wants, and your eyes go wide.

“Joel, we are old. I’ll break your neck.”

He makes a face.

“Stop that. You’re not gonna break my neck. Just cause we’ve aged doesn’t mean you can’t sit on my face.”

“My knees would disagree.”

“That’s what the pillow’s for,” he smirks, patting it.

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say, moving to sit where he indicated.

Did you think this was a bad idea? Definitely, but the man is so damn eager that you can’t help but want to give it a go.

He’s looking up at you, his hands on your hips.

“Remember how I like it?” he asks.

“Basically suffocating between my thighs?” you ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Exactly,” he replies, slapping your ass and making you squeak.

“If you need to tap out, you better fucking do it, Joel.”

“Of course, baby. Now get up ‘ere. It’s been twenty years too long since I’ve tasted your pussy.”

“Well, aren’t you just rarin’ to go,” you tease.

“Givin’ me shit about how old I am, and now you’re makin’ fun of how I talk?” He smacks your ass again. “Bad girl. Stop hollerin’ down a well, darlin’, and ride my face—I’m rarin’ to eat your pretty little cunt.”

Your head falls back as you laugh, not at all surprised when hands grab onto your ass and start scooting you closer to his waiting mouth, Joel manhandling you into position.

“That was the most yeehaw you’ve ever sounded,” you giggle, your knees sinking into the cushiony pillow on either side of his head, appreciating that he thought to grab it.

You’re sitting up, hovering over his mouth, shivering when there’s a wet streak of lips pressing kisses along your inner thigh, savoring the scratch of his beard.

Fuck, he’s gonna have you coming quickly; you just know it with how your pussy is throbbing.

“You know I don’t fuckin’ talk like that,” he says below you, kissing your other thigh.

His hands are gripped tight on the globes of your ass, squeezing your plump flesh.

“No, you don—“ the word breaks into a moan as he pulls you down, breathing you in, the hot air ghosting over your sensitive flesh, sparks dancing in your center when he nudges your clit with his nose.

His voice is muffled, “Smell better than I remember,” he groans. “Gotta taste. Sit.”

He’s helping you lower down until you’re touching his skin, not satisfied until his face is fully buried in your sex. You scrabble for something to hold onto at the first swipe of his tongue, your fingers landing in his hair.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan.

One taste and he becomes ravenous, his loud groans vibrating against your heat, obscenely licking and sucking, his hands guiding you so he can slurp up every last drop of your arousal he can get, drinking down everything he can, relishing in the prickle of his facial hair.

It’s so much better than you ever could’ve imagined, the man feasting on you like a starving man, rocking your hips, his fingers digging into your ass, humming appreciatively as electricity ignites under your skin, body vibrating, Joel working you up.

You’re gasping his name, feeling your orgasm build. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking it into his mouth, the pleasure causing your eyes to roll back in your head, moaning loudly, tightening your fingers in his grey waves.

“I’m so close,” you gasp. “Oh, fuck, Joel. It’s so good. You’re so fucking good. I’ve missed you.” You’re so drunk on what he’s doing, you’re rambling. “I’ve missed this. Don’t stop. Make me come.”

You feel him groaning, Joel doubling down and focusing on your bundle of nerves—sucking it, licking it, lips and tongue worshipping you until you’re cresting, body seizing up as euphoria floods your system with a gasp of his name.

His loud, long groan vibrates against your sex, his mouth moving to drink your release straight from the source, pushing his tongue inside of you as deep as possible, licking into you eagerly, wanting to get every little bit of you as he can.

Your body’s trembling, pussy fluttering, panting out breaths, feeling so fucking good as Joel helps you ride out your high.

You can’t remember the last time you’ve had this much pleasure, and it’s intoxicating. You’re used to getting yourself off with your hand when the need arises and have only had a few partners over the years—the sex always quick and to the point, an orgasm never guaranteed, and here was Joel making you come twice in less than an hour.

He’s spoiling you, you’re addicted, you never want him to leave.

Broad strokes of his tongue through your slippery folds has your back arching, surprised he’s still going, knowing it must be hard to breathe down there. Your body is scorching, feeling like you’re burning from the inside out as he licks every inch of you, reacquainting himself with your cunt.

He lifts you up a little, and you hear him take a big breath.

“Ride my tongue, baby.” His voice is rough, strained. “Use me to get yourself off.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m damn sure.” He smacks your ass. “Be a good girl and use me.”

You suck in a breath, pussy squeezing hard around nothing. He doesn’t let you reply, sticking his tongue out and pulling you down on top of it.

Your legs are closed around his head, his beard scratching against your thighs, hanging onto his hair for balance.

Grinding yourself against the flat of his tongue, he lets out a long broken moan, his grip on your ass tightening as you do as he asks, chasing your pleasure, using him, still so sensitive from your previous orgasms that the familiar heat was already growing in the base of your spine.

His mouth is hot and wet, working yourself up, pressing your clit hard against his muscle, moaning at the sparks of electricity shooting through you as you rubbed along it over and over again.

He’s groaning loudly beneath you, and you can tell he’s enjoying this just as much as you are, going faster, eyes squeezed shut, panting out moans. You know your skin will be tender from his beard, and you don’t care—this is worth it, your pleasure heightening, muscles in your belly beginning to tighten, Joel drowning in your pussy.

The sensations overtake you, everything coming together, falling over the edge with a cry of his name. Your legs are squeezing his head so tight as the wave of pleasure rolls through you, starting in your core and spreading to the tips of your fingers and toes.

Joel makes a strangled noise beneath you that has your eyes flying open, almost falling on your face as you quickly move off of him, ending up with your ass on his chest, looking down at him between your legs, your heart hammering in fear that you killed him—his eyes are closed, face completely lax, and glistening from your juices, his arms laying limply at his sides.

“Joel?” You pat his cheek. “I swear to god, Joel, if you die from suffocating in my pussy, I am bringing you back to life to kill you myself.”

“Not dead,” he slurs, eyes still closed.

“Thank god.” You rub your thumbs over his eyebrows and down his cheeks, sliding your fingers into the hair over his ears, him humming contentedly. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Came so fuckin’ hard.”

Your eyes widen, looking behind you to find his softened cock out of his jeans and resting on his stomach, streaks of come painting his skin.

“Oh my god,” you breathe. Looking back at him, you ask in disbelief, “You got off from eating me out?”

“Yeah.” He smiles dreamily. “Fuckin’ love your pussy. Missed it so much.”

You snort, rubbing your finger down the bridge of his nose. With him so relaxed, he looks like your Joel from twenty years ago, and it makes your heart squeeze over all of the time you missed with him.

What would’ve been different if you’d been together when the world ended? Would Sarah be alive? Would the two of you have still survived all these years?

You let the questions disappear as quickly as they came because there’s no point in pondering them. What happened, happened. You’re just thankful that by some miracle you found him again, that you both are now determined to stick together and live whatever days you have left by each other's sides.

“Aren’t you a romantic.” You trace over his wet lips, which are surprisingly soft.

His hand comes up to grasp yours gently, his practically encompassing yours. Featherlight kisses are pressed to each of your knuckles and, finally, your palm. His eyes blink open, all heavy-lidded to look at you.

“Fuckin’ love you more,” he says softly.

You feel yourself melt under his tender gaze, seeing the truth in the dark depths of his eyes.

“I love you, too.”

“Are you guys done fucking?!” Ellie yells from upstairs.

Joel’s eyes go wide, cheeks turning red, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Give us a minute!” you reply.

“Okay!”

“Don’t look so embarrassed, Joel,” you say to him, tapping the tip of his nose. “It’s not the first time we’ve been caught, and I doubt it’ll be the last.”

He groans, pressing his hands to his face.

His words are muffled, “It’s just as embarrassin’ today as it was twenty fuckin’ years ago.”

“Hey, look on the bright side, babe. Ellie didn’t see anything. Remember how scarred Sarah was that one morning you forgot to lock the door? Thank god we were under the covers, but I thought she’d need therapy.”

“Don’t remind me,” he replies, looking at you again. “Taught her to knock, though.”

“Yeah, it did.”

There’s a lot of groaning as you both get up from the floor, knees not as young as they once were, Joel and you agreeing that maybe you guys should stick to fucking on furniture. After a quick search of the downstairs, you’re able to find a relatively clean towel for Joel to clean up with; you're already dressed. He hollers at Ellie that it’s safe to come down after his shirt is put back on and pants are righted.

She stomps down the stairs like she wants to make sure the two of you know she’s on her way, you and Joel standing by the dining table, passing a bottle of water between each other.

She covers her eyes with one hand when she enters the living room.

Joel huffs out an amused breath, shaking his head as he takes a drink when he sees her.

“There’s zero nudity, Ellie,” you reassure her. “It’s safe to look.”

She uncovers her eyes, “Can’t be too safe,” she says. “Last thing I want is to have to gauge my eyes out because I saw Joel’s old ass.” She makes a disgusted face, and you laugh, Joel snorting.

“What happened to spendin’ the evenin’ readin’ your new book?” Joel asks her.

“Ran out of water,” she answers, holding up her water bottle. “I’m fucking thirsty. Please tell me, one of you has extra.”

“Yes!” you respond, turning to get into your bag and grabbing a container of water. “Here you go, kiddo.”

She’s briskly walking over to take it, unscrewing it right away to take a few big gulps, sighing happily when she finishes.

“Fuck, that’s good,” she says, wiping at her mouth. Ellie looks between you both. “Thought I was gonna be stuck up there all night. So, based on how you were all over each other in the truck and the disgusting noises that I wish I could unhear, I’ll take it, Doc, and you are back together?” she asks Joel.

His ears are bright red, clearing his throat.

“That we are,” he answers, not meeting her eyes.

“Are you fucking blushing?” she teases.

“Ellie,” he grumbles, glaring at her.

“I’m just giving you shit, Joel. Hopefully, she can help pull that stick out of your ass.”

He sighs, and she laughs.

“I’m happy for you, ya big ol’ grump. Doc’s great! I see why you like her, and Jesus, I’m not into sappy romantic bullshit, but you guys have a great fucking story.”

“We really do,” you say, looking at him and finding his eyes are already on you.

“That we do,” he agrees, a soft smile on his lips, leaning in to kiss you.

“Oh, gross.” Ellie sounds disgusted, fake gagging. “I’m going back upstairs. I don’t wanna see this, and I definitely don’t wanna hear anything, so please keep it down. Yuck.” She doesn’t wait for a response, walking away.

You pull apart, looking at Joel.

“We’ve scarred another kid,” you laugh.

“I don’t think, too bad, though,” he chuckles.

“No, not too bad. Now, if she saw your old ass, she’d definitely need therapy.”

He frowns.

“My ass ain’t old.”

“I mean…” you pause, leaning to look behind him at it. “It’s still really nice. Like my god, you could bounce a quarter off it, and the way that I wanna touch it.” You straighten, meeting his eyes. “After you shower and I can get you naked, I am absolutely getting a closer look.”

He smirks, setting the water bottle down on the table, so he can pull you into his arms.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Oh, yeah.”

His head moves closer, hovering his lips over yours.

“When I can get you naked,” he rasps, “I’m spreadin’ you out on a bed and spendin’ hours between your legs, usin’ all that God gave me to make you come so many times you pass out.”

“Is that a promise?”

“You know it is, baby.” His lips meet yours, kissing the air from your lungs.

Part 1 - Part 3 - Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

[viennakarma]

New Year, New Us

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: After you and Max broke up, you've never been on the same place at the same time again. That is, until the New Year's Eve party.

Word count: 4.3k

Tags: Smut, female reader, +18, sex (p in v), unprotected sex, ex!reader, a little possessive reader, spanking, cursing (but in a cool way), a bit of dirty talking, pet names, not beta read

Note: not me looking for a GIF that he's not wearing the team kit (there is none). This has been on my docs for a little while. English is not my first language (so please bear any mistake). If you’re my best friend, sophia, look away :)

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“Are you sure he won’t be there?”, you text Alex, your best friend.

While waiting for her answer, you look at yourself in the mirror, checking your makeup, basic due to lack of time, but beautiful nonetheless and the red lipstick gives the whole look a boost. On your body, you wear a set of a mini skirt, and a kind of strapless corset that holds your breasts firmly, giving your look an extra spice. When you went shopping with Alex the day before, she had confirmed that it suited the casual New Year's Eve party the group of friends throws every year.

“Charles confirmed that Max is not in town.” is the response you get from Alex as you wait for the Uber.

It would be really embarrassing if Max was there, because he's the ex you don't want to see under any circumstances. Your separation was difficult, and it almost caused a split in the entire group of friends. Luckily, Max went away for the Formula 1 season, and it wasn't necessary for his friends to choose a side, as he was the one who physically distanced himself from everyone.

Despite everything, he still meets up with friends from the group the few times he's in Monaco in between races, and these outings are the ones you refrain from going to so as not to cross paths with him.

Even though your relationship has collapsed like a house of cards, you and him do your best not to take anything out on your group of friends, you don't talk bad about each other nor impose any “either him or me” choices.

As soon as you arrive at the party, you realize that the “New Year's Eve party with friends” has probably taken on greater proportions. That's what happens when the majority of the group is made up of famous extroverts who make friends so easily. Charles had guaranteed that there would be 30 people at most, but when you enter his apartment, it seems to be at least triple that number.

You look for Alex and your closest group and find them near the small bar, getting drinks. Alex waves as soon as she sees you walking towards them.

She hands you a martini as soon as you catch up to her. Alex hugs you, complimenting your makeup, and you turn to Charles, hugging him, as well as all your other friends. You all toasted together, laughing.

Alex pulls you onto the dance floor, and you both laugh as a Rihanna song comes on. Both of you dance for several minutes until you feel a bit of sweat form on your forehead.

“Shit,” Alex murmurs, immediately stopping dancing. She looks over your shoulder at something behind you.

As soon as you look back, you see Max entering the party carrying a big box of some alcoholic beverage. It's impossible to go unnoticed when he's one of the most famous there. You watch as he smiles when he sees Charles in the crowd, as soon as the two meet, they exchange a friendly hug.

“Sorry, babe. Charles had indeed confirmed that he would not arrive from his trip in time for the party,” Alex justifies herself, but you keep looking in Max's direction. He's talking to Charles when, suddenly, he turns and looks in his direction. His blue eyes bore into yours and you swallow hard. You calculate an escape route for a few seconds, but he looks away and goes back to chatting calmly with Charles.

Alex pulls you away, but you keep looking in Max's direction until she shoves you into another room, which you recognize as the kitchen.

“We can leave if you want, we can find a nightclub or something,” Alex says, capturing your attention again.

“Alex, I'm not going to keep you away from your boyfriend on New Year's Eve just because I can't stand my ex,” You shake your head no. “Besides, if he's so comfortable, I'm not the one who's going to act like I’m not over him.”

“Oh, wow! Girl power, damn it!” Alex yells, opening a cooler on the counter. She pulls out two beers and hands one to you. With a bite of the cap, you quickly open it and after toasting your bottles, you take a giant sip that refreshes you from the heat and makes you more determined.

“That's more like it, now let's get back to the dance floor!” You confirm, with a nod after downing the entire bottle at once. Alex does the same and grabs two more bottles for you and her.

Together, you both return to the dance floor, you and Alex dancing and jumping, screaming the songs at the top of your lungs, as if there was no one else around. When Beyoncé's 6 Inch starts, you two start to dance sensually and sing along. With the song halfway through, you open your eyes feeling other people watching you and notice that they have opened a small circle around the two of you.

The attention only seems to make both Alex and you even more excited. Unintentionally, your eyes meet Max's, and you notice that he, Charles, and practically the rest of the party have their eyes on both of you. You grab Alex's shoulders and pull her close until one of your legs is between hers and one of hers is between yours, her hand goes to your waist, and she smiles as she guides her hips into yours and you both roll your hips.

“I know what you're doing…” Alex whispers in your ear. “He's going to regret ever breaking up with you!” She adds in a conspiratorial tone that makes you laugh

You mumble the lyrics to her and Alex pulls your hand, making you spin so that you stop with your back on her chest, placing you facing Max. You don't find any trace of shame in yourself, maybe whether it's the alcohol and the music, or maybe it's all these people staring at you and Alex with so much lust.

You look into Max's eyes as you dance with Alex's hand running down the side of your hip. His eyes are focused on you as he holds a cup of some drink. At some point, his hand exerts so much force on the cup that the plastic bends, spilling a bunch of drink onto his shirt.

You can't help but laugh when he looks down and mutters a swear word. He turns around and leaves. You continue dancing with Alex for a few more minutes until your feet feel sore and you’re very thirsty. When you sit at your friends' table, Charles serves you fresh cold juice. Max appears soon after, now with his shirt changed.

He sits at the same table as you, of course, because he is part of the group. Max sits on the opposite side of it, facing you. You look away from him when you realize your friends are talking and you decide to join the conversation.

“What happened?” Alex asks when she sees you readjusting the threads on your heels for the third time.

“My heels are killing me” you explain.

“I can lend you a pair of shoes. Do you want it?” Alex offers and you nod, “My stuff is in the guest suite on the first floor, where Charles always keeps our bags. You can take it if you want.”

“Thanks! You’re a lifesaver!”

You get up, crossing the crowd of people drinking, dancing and talking, to get to the stairs. As soon as you go up and reach the first floor, you take off your shoes and walk barefoot to the guest room, feeling relief in the bottom of your feet.

You find Alex’s bag on a dresser, and you rummage through it until you find a pair of white Jordans. You go into the bathroom and wash your face carefully so as not to mess up your makeup, and wet your neck to relieve the heat. After drying off, you go back to the dresser and you’re about to put on the shoes when the door opens and someone turns on the light.

You look up to see Max coming towards you with decisive steps, looking like a man on a mission.

“What are you doing here?” you murmur when he stops in front of you and his height forces you to lift your head to look into his eyes.

“You know what you do to me,” He whispers, his hand touches your face firmly, his hand holding your jaw and part of your neck “You know what I want.”

As soon as he says that, your body betrays you and you feel a wave of goosebumps running up your arms. Still, even with the clear expression of desire on Max's face, he doesn't move forward, just waits for your reaction.

You would be lying if you didn't admit to yourself that you miss him. Almost everyday, you miss the domesticity of your relationship, you miss his eyes looking for yours across any room or being the first thing you see as you wake up, you miss his touch both when it’s rough or when it’s exploratory like he wanted his fingertips to memorize you, his nimble hands and his cock stretching you.

You stand on your tiptoes to close the distance, and it's still not enough to reach him, so you grab the collar of his shirt and pull him down until your lips meet. He kisses you tentatively for a few seconds, and then his arm wraps around your waist and he lifts you off the ground, pressing you against his body while opening his lips to yours to deepen the kiss. When his tongue meets yours, you let out a moan that he captures with his mouth.

Your fingers move up from his shoulder to the back of his neck and you pull his hair hard, thinking it should always be like this. That you both belong in each other's arms.

Then you remember he was the one who ended it. He was the one who dumped you right after going on the new season of Formula 1. Probably to be free to fuck some groupie or something.

You move until he puts you back on the ground, and as soon as you find your balance, you push him so hard that he stumbles back two steps, surprised by your sudden refusal.

The both of you are panting as you sit on the edge of the bed, running your hands through your hair as you try to find your sanity again.

“You did this to us” you manage to say through heavy breathing, “You broke up with me to go on new adventures, and you still have the audacity to talk about me as if I had broken your heart”

“Love…” He starts, the pet name probably a slip out of habit, but that makes you even more furious.

“Don’t fucking ‘love’ me!” you point an accusatory finger in his direction.

Max stands like a statue, panting and his lips are red and a little stained with your lipstick, and his chest is rising and falling. You stare at him not knowing what to do now. Then you look at his face, his eyes closed as if he was trying hard to think, his hair even more messy because of your hands seconds ago. Max takes a deep breath, then he takes a step towards you, and kneels right in front of you.

“I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I should never have done that, I love you and I miss you every fucking day,” He looks up at you, his blue eyes shining in surrender, in a way that leaves you weak. “I'll do anything to win you back,” He says, placing both hands gently on your knees. Max looks at you intently as he gently runs his hand down your leg, until he closes his hand around your ankle. He slowly lifts your leg, as if expecting a negative reaction, and then leaves a kiss on your calf without taking his eyes off you. “Please- I- let me win you back- I’ll do anything you want- Let me be good to you…”

The sigh that leaves your lips is almost involuntary when he kisses a little higher on your calf, and then another one above your knee, followed by a soft bite. You almost let yourself get carried away by the effect of his mouth on you, but then you remember to regain control of the situation.

“With how many people did you have sex with after me?” you ask, and he immediately stops moving to look at you.

“None.” He answers, and you bend forward to hold the back of his neck and you pull his hair hard until he lifts his head with a groan.

“Don't lie to me, it's been eight months, Max. Are you going to tell me you haven’t had sex with anyone?” you ask through gritted teeth, without letting go of his hair. He stares at you firmly when he answers again.

“No one.”

“You swear?” you ask, finally loosening your grip on his hair.

“I swear,” He kisses and nibbles your legs again, as if he doesn't want to leave any part of you untasted. “I- I just- fucked my hand thinking about you.” He whispers against your thigh and you almost don't hear him, he says it so quietly.

He continues moving up, and you gasp as he kisses the space at your waist between the base of your corset and the waistband of your skirt. Each touch seems to send a jolt of pleasure straight into your core, and you do your best not to give in too quickly. You hold Max's face and make him look at you again.

“You have half an hour. Better fuck me hard” you command, and he swallows hard, nodding his head.

You finally let yourself fall back onto the bed as he kisses your body again. He tries to lift the corset, but the fabric is too tight. Then Max pulls the corset down in one motion, just enough to release your breasts from above. As soon as your tits spill out, Max grabs them like he's starving.

You can no longer contain your moans when his hands hold your hips, trying to reach under your skirt and his mouth alternates between licking from the base of your breasts to the tip of your nipples, and taking in as much as he can put in his mouth to suck at once. And you know with how hard he's doing it, you're going to have hickey marks all over tomorrow.

“How does this come out?” He asks, looking like he’s having difficulties with the corset.

“From behind.”

Max leaves your breasts to kiss your neck for a moment and you feel one of his hands reaching between your back and the mattress to try to open it. With an irritated growl, he palms your back. You squeal when, with a quick movement, he pulls your back, rolling you around and turning you face down on the bed. He makes a sound of approval when he finally undoes the corset, takes it off you, and tosses it away. He pulls the zipper on the back of your skirt, but it catches halfway, so he pulls hard and you hear the ripping sound until you feel the fabric loosen on your skin. With a sound of disapproval, you're about to curse Max’s entire lineage, when he cuts you off:

“I'll buy you another one. I’ll buy you whatever you want.” He gasps and soon you feel his hands touching your back and going down until they palm each side of your ass. He squeezes hard and you groan against the mattress, probably making a mess on the bedsheets with your lipstick. “I missed this,” He says, and then he gives your ass a slap that leaves you weak, then another slap on the other side, which makes your pussy throb. He gently massages where he hit on your asscheeks.

“Are you going to stand there admiring or are you going to ‘win me back’?” you say in a sarcastic voice when you look over your shoulder and Max is kneeling between your legs, staring at your ass like it's the Eighth Wonder of the Modern World.

“You're very bossy, you know that?” He says with a soft smile. He pulls your panties down to your knees.

“And you are complaining too much for someone who is on probation,” you keep looking over your shoulder and see how he takes his middle and ring fingers into his mouth, sucking on them to moisten.

“Probation, eh?” He says, getting closer to you.

“Yeah, or do you think you can get back this easily into my life?” You scoff.

You stop looking when his hand disappears between your legs, and you feel his touch gently on your pussy. You grip the sheet expectantly, as he presses your clit and you moan against the sheets again. When his fingers penetrate you, you start to move your hips, following the friction of his long fingers.

Max knows your body like no one else, the bastard, and you feel embarrassingly close to orgasm in just a few minutes of stimulation. You hear the indecent noise of how wet your pussy makes his fingers every time he moves them in and out, massaging your G-spot with infuriating precision. When your pussy clenches against his fingers, you try to do something, anything, to delay the orgasm.

Without stopping his movements, Max bends over you, kissing the back of your neck, then he approaches your ear and whispers:

“I’ve got you, pretty baby”

You want to curse him for the power of this pet name in your ear but your mind simply explodes into a thousand fireworks when you finally come, still leaning over feeling Max's lips on the back of your neck. He keeps his fingers in you for a few seconds as you try to recover from the orgasm.

When Max moves away and you feel his weight leave the bed, you roll over so your back is to the mattress so you can see him. He gets rid of his clothes very quickly, and your mouth is practically watering seeing him completely naked.

“Are you sure?” Max asks, fisting his member before going back to bed.

“So sure, baby” you say, with one finger raised, you make a “come here” gesture. He starts to climb onto the bed, “And as I’m feeling merciful today, I will ride you just the way you love” As soon as Max is hovering over you, you push him until he falls back onto the bed, rolling over him and getting on top.

Moving your hair out of the way, you crawl down until you’re between his legs, holding the base of his perfect cock. You lick him from bottom to top, from his balls to his cockhead and his hips jerk with the contact.

“Love, please” He interrupts you, grabbing your face and pulling you on top of him. “If you blow me, I'll cross the finish line too soon.”

“Now, this is the first time this is a problem for you,” you tease him, letting a bead of saliva drop onto his cock which makes his little giggle turn into a groan.

“Baby, please, I need to be buried into you”

With a laugh, you do as he asks, and sit on his lap, pressing his length between the two of us and sliding your pussy over him, your wetness indecent.

“You're trying to kill me, woman,” He says in a tense voice. You watch the head of his cock disappear between your lower lips as you grind against him and more groans leave his throat.

You lift your hips enough to hold his cock and position it at your entrance. From top to bottom, you slide his length inside you slowly, and it takes some time for you to be able to fit him inside you completely. His girth is something above average, and the eight months since your breakup that you've been in a drought require you a minute to readapt to his size.

You let out a moan when you finally bring your hips together and feel overwhelmed by his size. You place both hands on Max's chest for balance and dig your nails into his pale skin. You lift your hips just a few inches and sit back down, the friction making you both moan so loudly that for a moment you worry you might be heard. Then you remember that the party is in full swing downstairs, and the music is loud enough that you don't need to worry.

Max's two hands hold your ass and you start to move with more rhythm, going very high before coming back down with everything, pushing his cock inside you. His lips are parted and you bend down to kiss his chin and neck.

“You are mine,” Something possessive inside you makes you say that. Max looks at you completely surrendered. “Do you understand?” He nods. You leave a hickey on his shoulder that makes him contract deliciously inside you and mark him as yours. You increase the speed of the rise and fall of your hips, your moans matching his.

Max gives up his control fully and just lets you ride him the way you want, his moans getting louder and louder by the second. He stretches you so well that your toes curl, and Max presses his hand on your lower belly, the pressure makes you feel something completely different as your eyes roll back in pleasure.

Your knees weaken and Max takes the opportunity to reverse your positions again, placing you on your back on the bed as if he were impatient. Without disconnecting your bodies, he reaches for a pillow and places it under your hips to lift you a bit in the new position. He put your thighs over his where he is kneeling between your legs. Max pushes into you slowly, going deeper and deeper with each thrust. Your head drops back when he goes all the way in, his hips meeting yours until there is no space in between.

“Max! Oh fuck- oh-” you practically scream, pinching your own nipples to find some relief, “Oh my God!

In the new position he presses deep into your G-spot and you know you won't last much longer. His hands hold your hips even tighter and he lifts practically half of your body off the bed to thrust into you hard enough to make your head bounce on the bed.

There's nothing you can do but surrender to the pleasure that's building inside you with the way Max manipulates your body, holding onto his forearms for dear life, probably leaving some nail marks behind.

Max puts you back on the pillow, one hand he flattens on your stomach to keep you in place, and the other he presses his thumb to your clit. From then on, it's a lost cause. It's a matter of minutes before the orgasm that has been building for the second time erupts.

Your brain blackouts for a second as he pushes you off the cliff, and your hip shakes so hard that you thank God you're underneath, otherwise you would have fallen. Your pussy spasms also make Max cum soon after. Panting, he pulls out and falls on top of you, his head against your chest.

You lay like that trying to catch your breath for long minutes without saying anything, one of Max's hands running up and down your side and your fingers playing with his hair.

You still haven't said anything when you get up and go to the bathroom to clean up. When you’re putting on your panties, you remember Max destroyed your miniskirt. You gather the fabric from the floor and fold it.

“I'm sorry about the skirt,” Max finally breaks the silence, giving you the button-down shirt he was wearing earlier. As soon as you put your arms through the sleeve, Max fastens the buttons for you. you end up wearing the bustier over the shirt, like these it girls do and the final look isn't so bad. Max puts on another outfit and looks for a new shirt in a backpack that you know belongs to one of your friends.

When you’re both dressed, you leave the room still unsure of what to say. Max holds your hand, stopping you from walking any further.

“How are we now? Will you give you another chance?” he asks, sounding anxious. You realize you haven't given him a complete answer yet, which is why he seems uncertain like this. You rise on tiptoe, and bring your lips closer, holding his neck.

“I said you're mine, didn't I?” you whisper against his lips. You leave a quick peck on his lips and pull away.

But this time he doesn't let go of your hand, he just keeps holding on, tightly as you walk down the stairs back to the party, just in time for the countdown to New Year's Eve.

When you arrive at your friends' table, they start shouting and applauding when they see that you are holding hands.

“You guys are back together?” Alex asks, hugging Charles, over the voices of people counting down from 20.

“Max is on probation, if he behaves, we'll get back together,” you say with a playful tone and everyone laughs.

Max wraps his arms around your waist and you two join the countdown.

5, 4, 3, 2… 1!

“Happy New Year, Max!” you shout, over the voices of everyone celebrating the new year. He holds your face with both hands and looks at you as if you were his entire world, his blue eyes shining with deep feeling.

“I love you,” He whispers in your ear, before pulling you to sit on his lap and placing a kiss on your lips. He clings to you like he is afraid if he let you go, you will leave again.

"I love you too, pretty baby," you whispered back, laughing as his face went red.

[bigassmoonchild]

Ghost

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Simons body was back, but he wasn't really Simon. No, it was Ghost inhabiting the shell of Simons body, but even Ghost seemed to recognize you. Either way, there were days left of him being able to come back, and you didn't want to grieve your mate twice.

Content Tags: Angst, Hurt/No comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, Made Up Medical Shit ab Omegaverse, Not Quite Simon, Ghost and Simon are different people, Mentions of Violence, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, No Use of Y/N

A/N: I'm spoiling y'all again with more uploads <3. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter! Fun fact, these take me about two hours to write, but they're not beta-read or edited. As always, content is under the cut and my asks are open!!

Part 1 | Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

"What are some probable ways we bring people out of ferality?" You asked the squad standing around you. They were a few days out from graduating and at this point you were just filling time. None of them said anything, lookin around at each other. You sighed deeply.

Trip raised her hand and you stared at her. "Scents?" You blinked slowly, waiting for her to elaborate. "If we can get him a fresh scent of some packmate or a person he's especially close to then it can get him a focus point," she explained. You hummed.

Turning to look at the whiteboard you'd started with different plans to get Simon back, there were a few options you had. "The only problem with that, Trip, is that it could cause death," you whispered. The whiteboard had streaks where you'd erased and rewritten things.

Scent. Medications. Time. Death.

You sighed deeply, still thinking over anything else you could do. If you forced suppressants into his body, it would decrease the hormones in his body but the question was focusing on how to get them in him.

There weren't aerosol sedatives, he had ripped off the bindings that they had used to get him in the cell in the first place. 'What's wrong with him?' Price had asked. All you could do was shake your head, not legally able to explain anything. Fuck HIPAA.

Doctors, civilian doctors, had come in and started to try and take over. Even the doctors above you were fighting, because he wasn't a civilian. All they wanted was to use him and figure out how to bring a person out of ferality. Especially an Alpha.

"There are several ways we can fight ferality, but none of which have proven to do them well," you explained, looking around at everyone. There was nothing you could feasibly do, you knew. Similar to rabies, it wasn't something that anyone really came back from.

You sighed deeply. "Attempts have been made, but none of them came through. With too much time in ferality, a persons brain begins to shut down. We don't entirely know why, it hasn't been able to be studied, but there is very little we can do," you had to look away. "Either way, you work your hardest to ensure comfort," you had decided to add that at the end.

All you knew was that you needed to make sure he was comfortable. You knew your mate, you knew he deserved that at the very least. A knock on the conference door brought everyones attention as one of the civvy doctors walked in.

"You'll need to go in there," he told you. Shaking your head in confusion, you looked at him. "If he can recognize your scent, you'll be able to get sedatives in him. You'll be able to help us make him the first survivor," he whispered. Excusing yourself, the two of you moved quickly through the halls to make it to his cell area.

Standing in front of it, watching him stare at everyone through the balaclava, you felt your heart breaking. This wasn't Simon. It was Ghost. Blinking slowly, you listened to the hustle and bustle around you. It was like looking at him for the first time again. A man you didn't know, but was intrinsically connected to you.

With a deep sigh, you looked around at the doctors around you. "I may be his mate, but he won't recognize my scent," you whispered. "I'm pregnant, and we all know that changes someone scent," a few murmurs came from some of the doctors.

Looking away, you glanced at Ghost once more.

"I'll do it," you added.

They had you change into clothes he interacted with you the most in. So you wore your sleep clothes, just something you'd been wearing the night before. With the sedative slipped up your sleeve, the door outside the cell was unlocked.

"You know what to do," they told you. The plan wasn't all that concrete, just get in there and stab him. Very good plan, one of the best you'd ever seen. God, you wished Price had been allowed to format the whole thing. He might have a backup in case things went south.

Stepping through the now unlocked cell door, you took a quick glance back at the doors blocking your escape. Looking through the cell, Ghosts eyes were on you. Unblinking, the eyes you knew were gone. Blacked out, his pupil dilated so wide.

You didn't make eye contact with him other than the quick glance, keeping your head bowed down to try and remain as small as possible. If you weren't seen as a danger, he might not attack you. Might.

Movement brought your eyes up, seeing him standing to his full height and move to you. Slow but still graceful. You could see his face twitching, watched his chest heave with each breath he took. He was scenting you and you allowed it.

Closer, he grew closer and leaned his head close, you could hear the heaving pants as he drew your scent into him. Ghosts head dropped against your neck, pushing your head to force you to bare it to him. You could feel his nose nudging against you, feel his hands grasp at your arms and tug you closer.

You could almost feel tears filling your eyes, thinking back to the past two or so months filled with grief and eventual relief. A huffing grunt came from Ghost, almost displeasure at your scent changing. He tugged you with him, dragging you over to where he'd been sitting for the last few days.

Pushing you to sit, he stood over you. Your eyes opened, looking up at him and feeling the tears finally fall. A groaning whine came from him, his wide eyes glancing around to find something to cheer you up. You knew his thought process, you'd seen ferality in people before.

Only once had you seen it in him.

Ghost dropped next to you, tugging you into his lap and holding you close. He began huffing at your neck, pressing his scent out around you to try and soothe you. It seemed your scent was almost soothing him as well, allowing him a reprieve of the stress and fear over the last however long he'd been away.

God, how much you had missed this. The two of you didn't talk much, but you soaked this in as much as you could. His scent swirling around you, the feeling of his hands and arms wrapped tightly around you. You could feel yourself relaxing, felt the press of his head against yours.

Deep breaths brought his scent into you, albeit not being strong from where you were pressed into his chest. You could hear his heart thumping strongly against his chest, a true showing of his survival.

Pushing your hands to the back of his neck and shifting, just a little, you felt your throat choking around sobs. "'m so sorry," you whispered to him and he made another grunting whine at you.

You pressed the syringe in his neck and he jerked, but you were able to push the plunger all the way down. He whined against you, grabbing you tighter. Over the next few minutes, his grip slowly waned.

His body relaxed fully under you and you could feel the tears sliding down your cheeks begin to pick up. Stuffing your head into his neck, you inhaled deeply. Leather, tobacco and little hints of his own musk. God, you missed it, but the civilian doctors were flooding the room. Pulling you away and injecting him with different suppressants.

They dragged him away, forcing him out of your line of sight. You felt similar to how you'd initially felt when receiving his tags. Numb, like you were watching everything happening over a television.

Alpha is back.

You found Price waiting for you, just outside the medical center the doctors had dragged Ghost to. "How are you, Doc?" You fought the tears, feeling little hiccups coming from your chest.

"I don't know," you looked up at him. "I never thought I'd be able to see him again, but it's not him," you whispered. "That's not my Simon, that's Ghost,"

You knew when Ghost woke up, hearing the snarling roars coming from his chest. The suppressants hadn't worked, but he was still set to be pumped full of more in the next few days. The doctors found you sitting at the front desk, rubbing your face.

"Come with us," they said and dragged you to Ghosts room, where his snarls and roars quieted down to growls. As you sat beside him, placing your hands on whatever you could reach his growls quieted into little huffs and grunts.

You pressed yourself as close as they would allow you to him. "I missed you so much," you whispered and his head whipped around to look at you. His pupils were still so dilated, but you could make out his eye color just barely.

His eyes were always so pretty. You sighed and dropped your head to look down at the ground.

"It's been so long," you choked out. "So, so long," he looked at you, nearly blankly. God, you hoped that somewhere in that stupid head of his he could hear you. "Been almost two months, you wanna know something?" You asked, lifting your head to give him a weak smile.

All Ghost did was blink at you, slowly. Almost like he was listening, you noticed. His heartrate was dropping closer to normal rates, blood pressure dropping little by little as the minutes wore on.

"I'm pregnant," you gave a wet laugh. "I found out not too long after you left for your mission, and y'know what?" He didn't respond, but you could see the dilation of his eyes shifting just barely.

Looking away and swallowing thickly, all you could do was give little sobs.

"God, I missed you so much," you sobbed out. "When they gave me your dog tags that one morning, I didn't know what to think. I was so numb for so long but Price knocked sense into me," you choked another wet laugh. "Just like how he would do with you," you whispered.

"Pups," he whispered, staring at you. Your mouth gaped open, staring at him. His voice was rough, gravelly. It sounded like he either hadn't talked in months or had been screaming his voice out. "Pups," he whispered again, hand moving before getting caught by the handcuffs.

"Oh my god," you whispered. You lunged to get closer to him and heard scrambling at the door. People surrounded you and tugged you away, dragging you out of the door but you could hear it. His heartrate increased severely, and you could assume his blood pressure was skyrocketing again. "Stop!" You shouted, writhing against the people dragging you away.

There was a large snarl from Ghost, you could just see over everyone his writhing form as needles were stabbed into him. The door closed just as his head shot up and you could catch one last look of the fear filling his eyes. Hands tugged you away, pulling you from the area.

"No!" You still were screaming, not even realizing what you were doing. "Please, I need to be there!" You fought against the hands that pulled you further and further from the room.

"You can't," it was Price. "You can't be there, they need to be able to work on him without people in the way," he whispered to you.

"I was getting through to him, Price," he shook his head. "He spoke to me," you whispered, tugging him closer to you. "All he said was 'pups' before they dragged me out," Price looked away.

He sighed deeply. "We know," he said. "We were listening in, but you need to understand something," he made you look at him. "That isn't your mate anymore," he whispered. "He's been feral for too long,"

"No," you shook your head. "No, it's going to be okay," you whispered. "They still have a few days," you looked away. "They can't give up on him,"

Price looked away. "They're giving one more push of suppressants," he told you. "Giving them a few days, they're going to use you to help bring him out but if this doesn't work they'll need to keep him comfortable until the end," you couldn't look at him.

You weren't going to look at any of these people, how dare they give up on him so quickly? For minutes on end, you sat near Price, just waiting. For what, you didn't know, but Price wasn't allowing you to leave.

Minutes dragged into hours. Just like the hours that stole your last moments with Simon before he came back as Ghost. Minutes that you could've been in there with Ghost, comforting him as they did things to him.

He wouldn't know what was happening, his mind was too preoccupied with survival. You couldn't stop hearing his one word replaying in your mind, the recognition you now could see in his eyes. The door opened but you didn't look up, doctors came out slowly but surely.

Feet stopped in front of you, where you'd been staring at the ground. "Ma'am?" The voice whispered above you and you finally looked up. "You can go back in, now," he whispered. You knew that in the few lucid minutes a feral person had were the few minutes when more medicine should be pumped into them.

You had never expected the fear that would fill the lovers when this type of thing happened. When you were still training, you had never expected fear to be combined into others. You had no words for what you felt as you walked back in the room and saw Ghost snarl at you, his eyes no longer filled with recognition.

Sitting where you had been, you gazed over the Alpha. Blinking slowly, you moved your hands to where they had once been sitting, not so many hours ago.

"I miss you," you whispered to the Alpha. "God, I missed you so much," you could see his chest heaving with breaths, nearly see his mouth dropping open under the balaclava to allow more of your scent in. You sighed deeply.

Looking around you, the room was so bare. Something you would only use to describe hospital rooms. It hurt, knowing your Alpha was stuck here. Somewhere you weren't allowed to help.

"The rest of the pack have been helping me out, y'know," you smiled softly. Make this as normal as possible, you told yourself. "Soap's been joining me at my appointments," you looked down at Ghost. "Gaz has been making sure I take care of myself, and Price is doing his best to help during the night," you choked out a laugh.

You hear a soft little hum come from Ghost. His eyes were filling with recognition, little by little. Leaning towards him, you tried to catch his eye. They were dilating, his heartrate slowed.

He hummed again and you looked away. "I need you to come back, Simon," you whispered to him. You looked up at him, gazing over what you could see. His eyes, moving quickly around the room and grazing over you before moving away.

A deep sigh came from you and you sat there with him, watching the clock slowly tick as time carried on. Neither of you said anything and you watched as his eyes slowly drifted shut. You could feel the exhaustion slowly settling into your body, from the different emotions you'd been sent through over the last few days.

Standing up quietly, you let yourself out of the room. With one more look back, you watched the Alpha breathe slowly in his sleep. Closing the door behind you, you found Price.

Gesturing for him to follow you, the two of you slowly made your way to your office. When you unlocked the door, you sat yourself down in your chair and watched as Price closed the door behind him. He sat in front of you, lighting a cigar.

Quiet. For a few minutes, it was just quiet outside of the drag of his cigar and the soft breathing between the two of you. "He's home, Doc," he whispered. "Simons home,"

"It's not Simon," you looked at him. "That's Ghost. My Simon is not sitting in that bed, it may be his body but it's not him," you responded sharply. He looked away from you, sucking at his teeth. You blinked rapidly, trying to get the sleep out of them.

You sighed deeply, rubbing your hands over your face as you looked around the office. The one place where you and Simon had grown so close, the one place where the two of you had found peace.

"I've spent the last however many months grieving," you said. "I've grieved the life of my mate, and now he's back but it isn't him. That isn't my mate," you whispered, giving a short pause. "I can't grieve him again, Price, it'll destroy me," he reached over and rested his hand against yours.

He gave a little smile. "You won't have to grieve him again," he said. "The way he's progressing is making the doctors very happy," you gave a short laugh. "He could be the first case of survival through ferality, and you were the key to it," he told you.

For another few moments there was silence. Neither of you spoke, but you could see the pity in his eyes. Closing your eyes, you just breathed, still faintly able to smell Ghost albeit the scent becoming stale.

"I just need my Alpha," you whispered. "I need him back. I don't care if it means I fight an entire group of Doctors, they can't just kill him, Price," you opened your eyes and looked at him. "They can't just kill him," he didn't meet your eye.

"It's getting late," Price told you. "I think you need to go back to your room and sleep. Now," you didn't look at him, allowing him to guide you to your room. When you entered, he gave you a grim little smile before closing the door behind you.

Now that you were alone, you had no idea what to do. Your Alpha was just a few minutes walk away from you, but you wouldn't be able to enter that room again. They'd close down the medical center from visitors, even with your access as a doctor they wouldn't allow you to enter the room.

Crawling into your cold nest, you laid there. Shirt pressed to your face from where you could still faintly smell Ghost when he'd held you. Closing your eyes, you could almost feel his arms wrapping around you. You could almost smell him right there, right next to you.

And that's how you felt asleep, dreaming of your Alpha wrapping himself around you and making sure you knew everything would be okay. Even you didn't believe it.

Next

Taglist: (i did not realize that the tags didn’t work woospies)

@sae1kie @shinebright2000 @zechie-spams @itsmadamehydra @smiley-roos @enrapturedbythemoon @stargatenovus @cowboydisaster @404lunar @josieguts @actorryswife @the-queen-of-england183 @littlelovebug98 @cringeycookies @averytiredfanfictionwriter @kariiiel @caramlizedtomatoes

[sxulcxtcher]

( exhibitionism - camboy , uhhh idk… )

he was the perfect camboy to say the least. attractive, charismatic and oh so slutty. his streams ranged from him fingering himself to blowjobs on toys to public jerk off sessions. he was almost a jack of all trades… almost, but he was always solo. until now.

he met you in a uni study session. losing a bet to his stream, something about him cumming too early, he promised he’d get some “loser to fuck” on camera to appease his audience. what he didn’t expect was that it was exceedingly difficult to get others to perform such intimate acts live… well that was until you two talked.

you agreed almost too happily, which relieved him. the deadline for his stream was that night so naturally, he instantly invited you over to his place.

one; he didn’t expect you to show up. two; he didn’t expect you to be such a good fuck. both of you wore masks during the stream, his two rules were “privacy first” and “no kissing.” which were okay rules. starting the stream was slow but once he got your pants off… holy fuck.

“oh… shit…” he mumbled and pressed the pads of his fingers against your length. “bigger than your toys?” you snicker, he huffs in reply as he barely wraps a hand around the length of your dick. he pulls up the bottom of his mask and slips the elastic around your cock. you can’t see him going down on your cock but god does it feel good.

his mouth is warm, you can feel his tongue piercing rub against the tip of your cock before he takes your head around his lips… “ish… sho big…” he slurs out as he chokes more of your cock down his throat. your hand grip the back of his head, as he swirls his tongue around the head of your cock. his lips pop off of your length as he pulls his mask back onto his face. “i can’t ruin my mask yet…” he coughs out, a halfhearted lie but he did want to entertain the stream…

the stream camera was shaky in your hands but that was to be expected. one hand was gripping the other’s waist while the other was holding the camera as you pounded into his messy hole <3

ass up, face down into his bed. the stream got the best view of his needy hole sucking your cock in. “can your limp ass dildos fill you this well?” you tease, he replies with a strangled moan and shakes his head. slowly, you pull out your cock… watching the camboy’s puckered hole try to pull your dick back in.

“look at this… greedy slut, you’re lucky i’m generous.” you coo and fully slam your cock into the other’s ass. he’s breathless, so full with all of his sensitive spots being abused at the same time. “m-mghff.. o-oooh..”

“heyy, you’re getting all loose now. never take anything as big as mine before?” he’s too fucked out to reply as you mercilessly pound into him, that’s okay, he did ask for this…

with the camera back onto it’s stand, it’s pointed right at the bed with the darling camboy laying on it… his legs spread open with his boypussy filled with cum, his cute cock limped to the side and glossy with his own cum <3

“don’t pass out on me yet… someone redeemed for another hour of fucking.” you were diabolical in his eyes, he’d fight back but he was way too weak to properly lift up his arms. oh well, he’d end up enjoying the next hour as well.

—

( ・∇・)

hi… idk what took over me this time… i need ideas of what to write … i have none left (*´ー｀*)

if you have any general ones i’d love to write it!! this story isn’t beta read as always.

i hope you have a wonderful day (⌒▽⌒) - 🎀

yummmmm

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I left a bad review on a book I haven’t purchased?

(📚📖 to find later)

I’m an audiobook narrator professionally. I do most of my work via independent contracting with a production company. NOTE: they are NOT a publishing house. They do not provide editors/betas/etc for the text, they focus on turning (usually self published) books into audiobooks and marketing those audiobooks.

Most of the books I record with them are great, and I have a lot of fun reading good books! But…some of the books I’ve read for them have been. REALLY. REALLY. bad. Like I personally would have stopped reading within the first few pages bad if it wasn’t literally my job to read the words out loud.

I’m currently reading a book for them that makes me want to tear my hair out. The writing is boring, badly paced, and repetitive. None of the characters are likeable, and the relationships are shallow, the combat is boring, there are no stakes, etc etc. To give you an idea, the main character is the type of kid who on the playground would insist he had a mega super invincibility shield so you couldn’t touch him, but he also had a mega super invincibility shield breaking sword if you decided you wanted a shield too. And the narrative REWARDS HIM for acting that way.

I’ve never left a review on any of the books I’ve narrated before, but this one…i am seriously considering writing a review to try and warn people away from this book.

A few things to consider, though:

1: i am not being paid royalty share from the book, i get a flat rate based on the number of hours in the final audiobook. But as far as I know, the author only starts making money from producing this audiobook once the production company makes back the money they paid me for making it.

2: i would review anonymously/under a fake name and only on the book product page, not the product page for the audiobook version.

3: if an audiobook does not sell, then it is most likely I will not be obligated to continue recording the rest of the series (and it IS a series. At least three books are out as of now. I am currently slated to record them all, provided the audiobook sells decently)

4: the book currently has ~250 reviews already, and a 4.7/5 rating (how???? get some fucking standards), so it’s not like I’m leaving a 1 star review on something that only has 6 reviews.

I don’t think that one bad review would tank the whole series, but I do feel like leaving bad reviews on a product I didn’t even buy might be a dick move, especially if the author’s pay for this book relies on it selling well. But on the other hand, his book sucks and people should know that.

I wouldn’t be leaving a “0 stars: this sucks” review, I’d want to make it comprehensive and detailed. But I’d also feel bad about that because I’m sure the author reads his reviews, and even though his book sucks shit, i don’t want to like…make someone lose their passion to write? But ALSO if you’re making people pay $16 for the book and/or $40 for the audiobook, maybe the book should be fucking good? Idk.

So, tumblr, WIBTA?

[blitzyn]

pervert

miguel o'hara x spiderman!reader

request : none

Synopsis: A game of cat and mouse goes to shit, and you find yourself bound in Miguel's webs.

a/n -> literally nobody asked for this but he's been stuck in my mind for decades and i wanted to get something out for my bbg <3 also super sorry i disappeared again, writers block straight up bitch slapped me and left me in a ditch, plus ive been losing interest in writing for genshin or just the game in general, unfortunately.

wc -> 3.3k

cw -> very dubcon, mean dom miguel, degradation, bondage?, face fucking, google translated spanish, spit as lube, anal fingering, anal sex, slight and brief choking, (semi) public sex??, not beta read

Exhilaration filled your veins as breathy laughs escaped your throat, weaving through buildings and rubble with the precision of someone who has experienced this type of chase countless times before.

And that's because you have. You've been in a near never-ending game of cat and mouse with the esteemed Miguel O'Hara, always close enough to feel the swipe of his talons in the air but too far to catch. No matter how many times he's cornered you, you always find a way to get past him; it was predictable at this point.

That pissed Miguel off like no other, hellbent on capturing you to put an end to your snide remarks, to put you in your place. While that usually would've enticed you in any other circumstance, you weren't too keen on letting him dig his claws into you now that you were chest-deep in this predicament — and his wrath.

"Stop running, already!" he shouted, the sharp edges of fury evident in his voice.

"I'm not running!" you respond, peering back at him with a smug grin. True to your words, you, quite literally, were not running. You were swinging with the agility of a seasoned acrobat, twisting and flipping through debris while looking like you were having fun. You offered him occasional glances and nearly laughed each time. Seeing him, a grown-ass man, almost constantly on all fours was amusing, but hearing him curse and grunt and growl made electricity shoot down your spine in a way that nearly got you caught several times.

Adrenaline filled your body and threatened to burst through your chest each time you evaded him. "Missed me!" you laughed, juking away from his swipe.

"So close!" you flip over him with a taunt. "Try again next time!"

"¡Voy a matarte!¹" He growls, and it was hard to ignore the shudder that rushed through your body. You slightly winced at the feeling. If you don't get your shit together when he spoke Spanish, then you were asking to get caught.

But it's not like you'd mind — Actually, yes, you fucking would!

You click your teeth in annoyance. Despite how hard you tried, you couldn't remove Miguel from your thoughts even though he was right behind you, hunting you down like a wild animal. Your mind strayed toward his broad shoulders, beautifully tiny waist, fat ass (that you'd give a lot to slap), and the massive piece of rubble being hurled at your body.

You blink out of your stupor, feeling your senses going off rather violently. Oh shit.

Everything seemed to move painfully slow as you stared at the debris with wide eyes, noticing Miguel's red web attached to it as he brought it down. You flung your arm out in an attempt to attach your webs to something and swing away, but was unable to pull yourself fast enough as the debris pinned you down to the roof of a building.

"Fuck!" you thought as you grunted and squeezed your eyes shut, agony tearing through your entire body. Swiftly, you pushed against the ground to shove the heavy object off of you, groaning with effort. Just as you managed to stand back up, you heard the familiar thwip! of his web wrapping around your waist and arms to yank you to him.

"Caught you," he said, voice rough and breathless as he panted hard. He loomed over you menacingly, hands curled into a fist.

You struggled, kicking and straining against your binds. "Come on, Miguel." You offer a tense grin. "We both know this won't last very long."

"Ay dios míos,²" he growled, dropping to a knee to roughly press a hand on your face, his fingers digging into your cheekbones. "¡Cállate!³"

...

Woah.

You stared at him with wide eyes, feeling your cock stir in your pants. Oh fuck.

It was hard to ignore your ever growing attraction (and hard-on) for him that seemed to intensify when he deactivated the hologram of his mask. Sweat beaded at his temple while his eyes narrowed at your bound figure, fangs peeking out from behind his lips as he caught his breath.

Even when you were the target of his anger, he was still breathtakingly hot.

You opened your mouth again to shout at him — probably to let you go or something along those lines — but Miguel wasn't having it.

"Why is it so much to ask for you to keep your fucking mouth shut for once?" he hissed, squeezing your cheeks tight enough to ache, but it only went straight to your dick. "Is that all you can do? Run your mouth until someone gets sick of your shit and shuts it for you? Huh?"

You whimpered, meekly shaking your head in denial. Tightly closing your eyes, you swallowed hard and squirmed, secretly trying to will away your hard cock straining against your clothes.

"You're so annoying! Stop moving," he demanded, reflexively looking down to adjust his position over you. His eyes raked over your body for a moment before zeroing in on your erection, pausing in surprise.

.

..

...

"Oh, you pervert."

Your eyelids snapped open at his words, mortification seeping deep in your chest as you shifted your head away from him in shame. Despite everything, you could only feel yourself getting harder under his intense gaze.

"Is that why you made me chase after you?" He forced you to look at him again, your face aching at his manhandling. "Because you wanted to fulfill some dirty fantasy of yours?"

He let out a dry laugh. "You couldn't find anyone willing to satisfy that depraved urge, so you turned to me. Just how desperate are you?"

You shook your head again, letting out muffled words. He mercifully removed his hand from your mouth to allow you to speak, sliding lower to rest on your throat. "I was just playing..."

"Yeah?" He tilted his head mockingly, momentarily adjusting himself to grope your painfully stiff dick. "And this was your master plan? To get off at the face of danger? You're more of a degenerate than I thought."

"N-No, I didn't—" you moaned, reflexively bucking your hips up into his hand.

"Stop lying." He squeezed the hand around your throat just enough to force labored gasps from you. "It's stupid how you don't think I've seen the way you look at me — how you think I haven't noticed you eyefucking me."

A furious blush rises on your cheeks as your cock twitches in his hold. It doesn't go unnoticed.

He laughed again, staring at you in mock disbelief. "You're enjoying this."

And this time, you don't deny it.

"Can't say I expected anything higher from you." He rolled his eyes in exasperation and removed his hands from your throat and dick to place them on your thighs. Effortlessly, he pried them apart to slot himself in between your legs, pressing his crotch flush against your ass.

Groaning, you lifted your hips a bit in an attempt to grind on him. With a growl, he swiftly slapped a hand on your abdomen to push you back on the ground.

"Don't move," he said, glaring at you with a mix of arousal and irritation in his eyes. "I've had enough of you getting your way." He leaned forward, a wince crossing your face when he pressed some of his weight onto your stomach. "It's my turn."

"My way—?" You cut yourself off with a huff when he gave you a stern look.

A thought seemed to pique his interest when he suddenly decided to kneel beside your head. It was nigh impossible to tear your eyes away from his crotch, the area beginning to glitch with a dim, pale blue glow at the strain from his hardening cock.

"Let's put your mouth to better use." He grabbed a fistful of your hair and deactivated the hologram covering his dick. It landed on your face with a quiet slap before his hand guided it to your lips.

You hesitantly parted them, only for them to be forced open wider to make room for his cock. You let out a surprised sound at the entry, but he was entirely focused on making you take him completely.

He was gracious enough to take it slow, relishing in the sounds of your gags and sputters and every deep inhale.

"Thaaat's it," he drawled out, sighing heavily when he felt your tongue rub against the underside of the shaft. "Fuck..."

Your eyelashes fluttered as he buried your nose into his pubic hair, uncontrollably drooling over him while you sucked and licked what you could. You felt him harden in your mouth, forcing himself deeper into your throat while it tightened and spasmed.

He increased the speed of his thrusts, absentmindedly shuffling closer to your face. A shiver ran down your spine when he slithered a hand on the junction between the back of your head and neck to hold you firmly.

A garbled whine left your throat as you subconsciously jerked your hips upwards, searching for some form of relief for your aching cock. You strained against the webs around your torso and arms, utterly intoxicated with his taste, his scent, his sounds—with him.

With a groan, he shoved himself as far as he could inside your throat and held you in place, ignoring how you instinctively struggled against him. A high-pitched ring sounded through your ears as your head spun, chest tightening with the need for oxygen.

Shuddering, he finally pulled out of you, watching with satisfaction as you coughed and gasped for air. A mix of saliva and precum connected your lips and the tip of his cock, to which you quickly licked away. You let him inspect you with a hand still buried in your hair, gaze locked in on your drool slicked chin and swollen lips.

A quiet hmph left him before he turned to place himself back in-between your thighs again, this time extending his talons to tear a path in your clothes from your ass to your crotch.

"H-Hey! Hold on—" you protested and kicked his arm away from you.

"Shut up," he cut you off, swatting your foot away while grasping your painfully hard cock again. "Don't act like you don't want this."

"G-God..." you moaned, furrowing your brows as you stared at him. A squeak left your throat when he suddenly pressed your legs to your chest, a quiet ptuh! escaping his lips alongside a glob of saliva that landed on your asshole.

Retracting his talons, he let go of one of your legs to press two fingers against your hole, shoving them inside you abruptly. You winced at the sting his thick fingers made as it mixed in with the arousal that burned in your gut. He separated them in a scissoring motion, moving in and out at a pace that had you yearning for more. His fingertips brushed against spots so frustratingly close to your prostate, you were sure he was purposefully avoiding it to mess with you.

"H-Hurry up," you demanded, the ache in your balls beginning to prove to be something you could hardly handle.

He gave you a sharp look. "Tell me to hurry up again and I'm leaving you like this."

You stared at each other for a moment longer before you looked away in defeat, muttering under your breath. He ignored you and added another finger, the wet squelching blending in with your soft moans. His hard cock pressed on your thigh, and you briefly wondered how he wasn't fucking you within an inch of your life already.

Quickly enough, you were able to realize that he wanted to make you wait. He wanted to give you a hard time — just like you did to him.

"C-C'mon, Miguel." You breathlessly chuckled, straining against the webs around your torso.

"What?" He raised a brow, satisfaction seeping into his expression at your growing desperation.

You opened your mouth again when he unexpectedly jabbed his fingertips onto your prostate, sending a violent surge of electricity through your body. "Fuck!" You cried out as a spurt of precum leaked out of your dick and enlarged the wet spot on your clothes. He continued targeting the gland, refusing to let you get a word in your sentence. The coil in your abdomen tightened into an almost unbearable degree before he abruptly removed his hand from you entirely.

"God, just fuck me already!" You jerked your hips upwards in a futile search for stimulation.

"You sound just like a whore," he commented, tone full of condescension. A heat washed over your body at his words as you stared at him with wide eyes. You tensed when he leaned down, lust and mirth swirling within his red irises. "Is that all you are?"

"What?" You found yourself unable to look away from him. "N-No, I—"

He shoved his cock inside you mid-sentence, tearing a loud moan from your throat. He held your thighs to fold you in half, using his body weight to pin you down. You panted hard as you tilted your head to the side and squeezed your eyes shut. It was hard to focus on anything else but his dick filling you up so perfectly.

Miguel released a gutteral groan, grinding his hips against you. He dug his fingertips into your legs hard enough to bruise, but that was the least of his worries — not when he had you below him. After a moment that felt like an eternity, he leaned back (mercifully removing some of the pressure on your chest) and watched himself move in and out of you, pulling out almost all the way before he slammed himself back inside.

"Ohh, fuck!"

"This is what gets you — mierda⁴ — all compliant, huh?" He taunted, abdomen flexing with every thrust. "The moment you get some dick inside you, you're like a trained mutt."

You opened your eyes to weakly glare at him, to deny what he said, but the moans spilling from your lips did nothing but prove him right.

"Te gusta cuando te trato como si no fueras nada, ¿no?⁵" He leaned back down, hooking his arms around the back of your knees as he pressed his chest against yours, curling his wrists around your thighs to grip the flesh. His breath was hot and heavy against the shell of your ear, lips so close you could feel the vibrations of his voice in your ear drum. "Aren't I right, you dirty little pervert?"

"N-No! S'not right!" You cried out, the burn of his cock stretching you out mixing in with the pleasure so deliciously it was almost addicting.

"Deja de mentirte y admítelo, puta,⁶" he hissed, widening his mouth to graze a fang along your neck threateningly, which sent a shiver down your spine. "Admit it — that you're a depraved whore."

"Admit it." He emphasized each syllable with a thrust, ramming into you hard enough to fuck the breath out of your lungs.

"Shit—fuck! Oh, god!" You sobbed, arching your back into him. You nearly came at the feeling of his abdomen rubbing your aching dick. "I'm a whore! M'your whore!"

His cock throbbed fervently at your words, rewarding you with groans and grunts directly into your ear. Your ass slightly stung at the force of his thrusts as he fucked his anger into you, but neither of you cared.

"Fuuuck!" You drawled out. "Miguel, m'so close! Let — ngh, ah — Let me cum!"

"Yeah?" He cooed in your ear, gently licking the shell. "You gonna cum f'me?"

"Yes, yes—!"

"Then beg."

He stopped moving so unexpectedly that it left you disoriented for a few moments as you stupidly stared at him with wide, watery eyes. "W-What...?"

"Beg to cum," he leaned away from you to get a clearer look at your face. "I'm not repeating myself."

You took a moment to catch your breath (and secretly savor the feeling of his dick twitching inside you). "God, please, Miguel! I need it so bad. I need to cum — please let me cum! I'll be good, I promise! Fuck, Miguel, please let me cum! Please, please, please!"

The sight of the tears along your lash lines sent electricity down his spine as his breath hitched. "You'll be good?" He dryly laughed. "I don't think I believe you."

You opened your mouth in defense when he suddenly slammed himself back inside you, tearing a moan instead of words from your throat. He fucked you hard and fast and deep, grunting in a way you could only describe as animalistic.

But you loved it. You loved how he controlled your body so effortlessly, how he treated you like a cheap fuck toy. You mentally deemed all those chases worth it in the end.

The heat from less than a minute or two prior returned full force as you tilted your head back in ecstasy. You babbled out incoherent words of (what Miguel suspected to be) praise, straining against your binds once again.

You screamed out when the coil in your abdomen finally snapped, electricity shooting down your spine as your cock spurt cum underneath your clothes. You weren't able to process the stain in the fabric when you realized that he hadn't slowed down, deciding to fuck you through your orgasm to chase his own.

You stared up at him, admiring the slight flush on his cheeks, how his brows furrowed in concentration, and even his eyes that shone with disdain towards you.

You could feel his dick throbbing inside you, and you quickly realized that he was about to cum as well. The ecstasy you were granted slowly began to merge with the pain of overstimulation, but it only made the hazy bliss you were in so much better.

"Yes, yes, Miguel!" You gasped out as your legs trembled in his hold. "Cum inside me, please, I want it!"

He grunted at your words, fucking you with a few more harsh thrusts before he suddenly pulled out. It took you a moment longer than normal for you to process the uncomfortable emptiness as he let go of one of your legs to quickly jerk himself off.

"What—No! Please, Miguel!" You pleaded uselessly, wincing when he tightened his grip on your thigh and unintentionally extended his talons. They penetrated through your clothes and pierced your skin, drawing a bit of blood, but that was neither of your concern at the moment.

"Ay, solo cállate ya,⁷" he growled, releasing your thigh to press his palm against your mouth to silence you. You let out pathetic whines and whimpers, but Miguel was focused on achieving his orgasm.

With a final few strokes, he finally came with a loud groan as his cum spurt onto the floor. He angled his hips to make sure none of it landed on you, much to your obvious dismay. With a heavy sigh, he leaned back and stared at your bound body, trembling and helpless. It was satisfying to see you in such a state.

He reactivated the hologram over his softening cock before binding your legs together in a way that hid the large hole in your pants to prevent anyone from figuring out what the two of you did.

He sighed heavily and slung you over his shoulder, standing up to look around and figure out where the fuck he was.

"You have a really nice ass," you commented after a moment, unable to keep your compliments to yourself.

He groaned. It was gonna be a long trip back to HQ.

Translations:

1: "I'm going to kill you!"

2: "Oh my god."

3: "Shut up!"

4: "Shit..."

5: "You like it when I treat you like you're nothing, don't you?"

6: "Stop lying to yourself and admit it."

7: "Oh, just shut up already."

cross-posted on ao3

[ja3honey]

Ooooh 3, 15, and 100 please!!!! With Seongjoong perhaps 🤔

'𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐖𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞'

Prompts : 3 "You Feel So Good" 15 "Close Your Eyes" 100 "Dont go on that date" "Why" "You Know Why"

【sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs】 : Your two roommates love to make it hard for you to find a partner... but what happens when they stop you at the door of your apartment and "convince" you that you deserve better.

『ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ』 :  1.06k

-> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Suggestive, Angst, Fluff. Slice Of Life Au

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: SeongJoong x F!Reader (Seonghwa & Hongjoong)

[ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs] : Swearing. Mention of shitting dates and shit men. Fingering. Talks about sex. Use of the word cock. Dirty talk. Dom/sub play. Power play. Reader is lowkey a brat. Neck kisses. Begging. NOT BETA READ

Masterlist | Navigation

You wanted to look good, be good. Be enough. And tonight was your night. You dressed up in a beautiful and mostly sexy outfit, wanting to impress and attract this new guy were were seeing. Well speaking to mostly online. This would be the first time you’d be meeting him and you hadn’t planned to be in a position of being fucked, but if it were to happen you were more than prepared. Grabbing your keys off your side table and checking yourself once more in the mirror before heading towards the door quickly so you don’t run into your roommates. 

“And where do you think you're going?”

Fuck… You freeze in your spot, hearing the deep grumble behind you, mostly coming from the archway leading to the kitchen. You spin on your heels to face the beefy man behind you. He looked like he had just woken up, with his tight muscle-t hugging his chest, while his black joggers weren't doing anything to your imagination on his clear erection. “Oh, Heyyy Hwa. I was just… Heading out..”

You knew he wasn’t stupid and you knew for a fact he had noticed you were more attentive to your phone and practically glued every time a notification popped up. But to be fair you were probably touch-starved, and an attention whore so it wasn’t your fault. “Don’t go on that date.”

“Why?” You snapped

“You know why.” He growled, pinching the bridge of his nose. You step towards him getting in his face with slight frustration. You knew Seonghwa and Hongjoong liked to tease and flirt with you but every time without fail, when you went out on a date they always found a way to make you not go, or take you somewhere else instead. And they would always say it’s because they didn’t like the men you chose or the people to picked and ‘None of them are good to you. You deserved better.’ But deep down you knew, or more wanted them to say something else. Say it was ‘cause they wanted you, they want to be with you. But no. They were your roommates and nothing more. 

“Say it…” You're right in his face, holding your ground. He seemed surprised by your actions, usually, you would come quietly but this time he was seeing a new side to you. A bratty one. His smirk made your blood boil, was he enjoying your suffering? 

“What's going on here?” Hongjoong walked in with a groggy voice and blood-red eyes, most likely being at his desk all afternoon working. “Why do you look all dolled up?”

You huffed crossing your arms in front of your chest, staring at the two annoying boys. They quickly exchanged looks and when Hongjoong hummed lowly, it was like they both had a mental conversation. “ You seeing a guy?” Joong spoke up.

“And you care again, why? It’s not like you’re my boyfriends.” You rolled your eyes, turning your back to them. You started putting on your shoes, ignoring the clear anger rising in Seonghwa and the frustration in Hongjoong. 

“Why do we care—ha. You aren’t worth those disgusting men's time.” Seonghwa cut himself off, scoffing at your words. "Those boys you see are a waste. And you don't need to throw yourself at them."

Throw?! Did he really say you throw yourself at men? All you do is try and get Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s attention, and they never reciprocated it. So you kind of had to look elsewhere. You felt invisible around them like you were nothing more than a roommate. You couldn’t even find any combat to his harsh words, so instead, you turned around to leave while scoffing in disbelief. “Whatever, I’m going.”

Before you could grab the door handle a pair of large hands grabbed your waist, pulling you backwards until your back hit a very broad chest. A hand snaked around your chest up to your neck until fingers grip your chin tilting your head to the side so your face was suddenly inches away from Hongjoong?!

“J-Joong?!” You never even heard him walking towards you let alone being right behind you. Did he push Seonghwa out of the way from the small hallway? Why was he suddenly so close to you, to the point you could feel his heartbeat against your back, and his breath on your lips? 

“Close your eyes.” His voice was low and deep, like velvet and cream. God, you felt so wobbly from his hold. You didn’t listen, eyes darting between his own trying to understand what he could mean.

“W-what?” you stuttered.

“I said…” His hand moved from your waist to the hem of your hands, fingers dipping slightly into the top of your jeans. Your breath hitched suddenly figuring out what he wanted, what you now wanted. “Close your eyes, Angel. Trust me.”

Your eyes shut quickly, maybe too quickly and that’s probably was you could hear a low chuckle erupts from Hongjoong. You felt Hongjoong’s hand slip further into your jeans and you wiggled in anticipation. You wanted so badly to open your eyes and take a peek at Joong but you tried your hardest to listen to his orders, and when you were about to whine in frustration another pair of hands gripped your wrist, swinging your body until your back hit the wall with a huff.

This time you opened your eyes, staring Seonghwa right in his dark eyes. He and Hongjoong were caging you against the wall, and Joong wasted no time in latching his lips on your neck, making you whine all the while you were never leaving Seonghwa’s stare. 

“My, My is this what we needed to do in order for you to listen to us, we would of done it sooner.” His tone mocked you, making a shiver ripple down your spine. You couldn’t understand where all of this was coming from but you feared to ask as words might make them stop so instead, you whimpered. “I bet you feel so good coming around a cock huh?”

You gasped suddenly feeling Hongjoong’s cold fingers slip into your jeans, past your panties and pressing harshly down on your clit. Your mind becomes clouded and your heart races, hips grind on his hand to ease your frustration. “P-please…” You beg for something, anything. For one or both of them to hurry up and give you the pleasure you’ve been so desperately craving for who knows how long now.

“So pretty when she begs huh?” Hongjoong purrs in your ear, making your eyes leave Hwa for a split second to look over to the shorter male. Seonghwa took your distraction to step closer until all three of your bodies were smooched against one another in the tight hallway. Hands everywhere, feeling any part of your flesh they could find. While two tongues lick along your neck and exposed chest. You were overwhelmed and both of them were going to use it to their advantage and make sure by the end of the night you were nothing but a whimpering, crying mess.

- ♥︎

[generalsdiary]

09:07 am

gn!reader x Dr. Ratio

warnings: none

word count: 600~

a/n: pure brainrot, not beta read, jamming to sparkle’s theme

description: you do his eyeliner, drabble (fluff)

„hold still“ you dictate under your breath, your hand holding his chin in place.

he sighs. „I am very still-“ „yapping means you are not being still, I'll mess up the line, Veritas“ causing a glare from him. your other hand was resting on his cheek and attempting to make a perfect red line on his eyelid.

it looked... good enough when you were done. you moved your hand away, placing the brush on the nightstand and relaxing your posture. „there“

Veritas brings a small mirror to check your work, „hmm... I've done better. of course I do it every day“ his eyes leave the mirror and catch you glaring at him, „it was a bonding moment, Doctor Ratio“ your tone of voice revealing sarcasm and a hint of annoyment.

„that doesn't clear you away from criticism, especially if you wish to improve.“ his hands pull you back onto his lap, his eyes, the color of an eternal sunset, turning soft, „which would be good for you, you could then do it more often.“ Veritas smiles showing the gentle reasoning to his somewhat harsh sounding words. his swift change in behavior catches you slightly off guard.

„so hot and cold“ responding in a teasing tone.

„ah, I'd say I'm more hot than cold right now, aren't I,-“ his hand cups your chin, „my dear?“

a smile is apparent on your face, as is the eye roll, „and cocky it seems“ making him scoff at your words and look away. „don't worry Veritas, that is one of the reasons I... tolerate you“ you communicate those words in the form of a kiss on his cheek. Veritas' expression relaxes, his eyes closing.

„who's the hot and cold one now?“ his voice but a mere whisper. „unlike yourself, that isn't one of the reasons I like you.“ he waits for a response, patiently scanning your face to see if you'll try to guess. „then what is?“ guessing game isn't worth it at this moment, Veritas very obviously has a specific reason in mind and you feel excited to hear it.

„your kindness. and tolerance, towards... idiots“ to him, those words are completely true, despite his aloof character and at first glance rude behavior he cares a lot. he made sacrifices that benefit… well the whole universe; solving an energy crisis, creating serums, fixing centuries-old issues, and to him, most importantly, he continuously tries to make knowledge available to all people. of course, Ratio would appreciate those same qualities in his partner, not seeking a ‘genius’ necessarily, but rather just a humanitarian, sensible person.

Veritas' words don't fail to make you laugh and ruffle his silky soft violet hair, „and you! are my favorite~“ you exclaim proudly, with a shit-eating grin on your face, knowing he will react to the provocation.

„oh?“ he smirks as well, his hands moving from your sides to your back, he lays back and pushes you with him, making you gasp sharply. „what was it- I didn't catch that, what am I?“ he teases, his voice playful.

„an id-“ Veritas doesn't let you finish your thought, his lips crashing against yours, and when you start enjoying the kiss and the sweet taste of his lips - he pulls away, keeping it painfully short.

„hm... you were saying?“ his hand goes to the back of your head, rubbing your nape.

you frown, how dare he limit the kisses, „an idio-“ once again Veritas doesn’t let you finish the thought, pulling your lips onto his again. you can't help but chuckle and softly mumble between your lips meeting, „my favorite~“, „you mean the only one“, a laugh bubbles up your throat, even in a joke he wants it to be factually correct… or is it a hint of jealousy? doubtful, he isn’t a jealous man to your knowledge. food for thought perhaps.

„yes, the only one.“