#orange sky au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

alnilaem · 4 months

Text

bury me beneath the basswood tree

pairing: ghost/soap/reader [12k]

rating: 18+ only. minors don’t interact.

tags: non-con sex, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, size kink, forced fellatio, forced cunnilingus, impact play, brief watersports, double penetration in two holes, forced breeding, implied hybrid/shifter au

Needing time away from her humdrum life at home, she ventures into the woodland for respite. Little does she know, straying into that cabin in the woods will be the worst—or best—decision she’ll ever make. Depending on who you ask.

all my thanks to @/ohbo-ohno! thank you for being the best beta reader and sitting through my abhorrent typos <3

AO3 MIRROR

The mountain’s breadth of trees and foliage are written with prose.

It’s repetitive. Mind-numbing. She’s already passed this necrosed tree stump five times before. On the sixth circle, she treks through the undergrowth like it’s curdled milk, the tiny scythes of branches whispering against her arms and slicing her open the same way thumbs tear into oranges.

Dehydration crystallises like sediment in her mouth. It makes her bones heavy, bending against her flesh as if they’re groceries about to tear through a plastic bag. The balls of her feet are calcified, her thighs chafed. They rub against her threadbare jeans the same way a match reacts with red phosphorus to produce a flame. It burns, and so do her muscles. They feel moth-eaten and spent. Hung out to dry.

The stench of damp soil and sugar maple impairs her like an opiate. The peal of idle birdsongs grate against her ears. She’s sick of it—she’s been here for three days—and already, she’s sick of it.

She tries her phone again. It’s unresponsive, no signal. She unfurls her map but it’s mottled with rainwater and mud. Her lungs feel dry, pruney, as the dew drops slipping off fern plants seem to replicate the tears thawing in her eyes.

Evening mist hangs over the ground, and the sky turns red-bottomed as it progresses into nightfall. It’s as if the mountain is sentient. Nocturnal. Stirring from a torpor once the sun sets and awakening all that lives within it.

A sob wracks her ribs. It has the same effect of a bullet, ricocheting. She keeps moving even though she doesn’t know where she’s going. She believes that should she continue walking, nothing will be able to catch her. Not the spindly tree branches that take the shape of arms or serpentine shrubbery. She won’t give the mountain any time to fossilise her, if only she keeps moving.

Her movements are clumsy though. Her eyesight is hindered by panicked tears, turning everything shapeless and blurry. She keeps tripping and skinning her knees like the hide of a pomegranate, her flesh peeling back to show the red pulp of her innards.

It was a rashly undertaken lapse of judgement that brought her here. To a conscious mountain that lives and breathes and feels her fear. It was her heart, empty, carved out and replaced by brutal loneliness. Her friends back home are heedless and her parents are never satisfied with what she does. She figured that if none of them would listen, the woodlands would.

And listen, they did.

When she cries out, the wind howls. When she changes her direction, pivoting on her heel, the soil rumbles. She sees things—a shadow spotting her vision, not composed of matter—peeking from behind a tree trunk before quickly slipping away. She witlessly calls out, asking if anyone’s there, and is met with the forest's silent presentiment. She feels the stark pressure of piercing eyes sprawling down her dewy neck, sweeping over her body.

The longer she spends lost, the more she sinks into Appalachia.

It pulls her down like molasses. Like she’s an innocent fly trapped in glue. Soon, she knows there’s no hope. She knows her scent is written into the bark of trees—supple, sugary. A treat for whichever predator finds her first.

A brown bear, swinging its claws at her until her entrails are threadbare and striated. A snake, injecting venom in her blood. A bobcat if she’s lucky. It would be a quick death—sinking its loose jowls into either side of her neck until it snaps and she goes slack.

She’s apt to let go. She’s keen to yield to the alluring call of the woodland to let go, to fall to the forest floor and sit there until she rots. Until the roots worm into her breathing wounds and branches start growing out of her mouth. The urge to stop moving and become one with the mountain is suddenly cogent, leaves no margin of doubt. It comes with the promise of eternal respite and divine mercy. She’s about to find a cliff to jump off of, but before she can, something catches her attention.

A plume of smoke curling in the air.

Whorls of slate-grey soot thinning and disappearing into the sky. She looks for the source and follows it blindly, shouldering past pine needles and hawthorn and all but sobbing as a cabin comes into view. It’s made of wood and the tufts of wildflower that sprout from its thin fissures. It looks neglected and eaten by the elements. Its vaulted roof is stained by the off-white assault of bird droppings, discoloured by acid rain. Some of the windows look covered with dewy newspaper, but still, she knows it can’t be vacant. The smoke undulating from the chimney tells her that.

She staggers onto the porch. Her fist rasps against the door, clippings of wood burying itself into her skinned knuckles as she wildly knocks. Silence. Not even the leaves flutter against each other. Fleetingly, a stint of panic seizes her. What if nobody’s home? But she’s twisting the knob and pushing herself inside anyway, dropping her bag to the floor with a thump, stepping inside.

The cabin makes for a liminal space, smelling of sawdust and pine. There’s a layer of dust on every surface, making the air thick. All the furniture is carved from wood and a couple taxidermied deers are mantled above the stone fireplace, looking more like warnings than decoration. The pelt of a black bear is unfurled across the floor, and a few trinkets are strewn around—a bookshelf of spine-cracked novels, dead plants hanging from the ceiling beams. A mountain of used cigarettes, but strangely, no ashtray.

There’s everything but picture frames. Nothing she can use to humanise the cabin nor the people supposedly living in it.

She guides herself to the kitchen by feeling the walls. There’s a piped stove in the corner and cast iron tools hanging above the counter. Her stomach bubbles, and immediately, she starts scouring for food.

There’s three barrels by the door, and upon popping them open, the stench of brine sprays her in the face. It’s fish with a crust of salt, preserved. In the other barrel is meat buried in shelled corn, and fermented poultry in the last barrel.

It’s all raw and bloody. She steps back, gagging, turning her attention to the shelves that line the faraway wall. Jars of pickled cucumber and carrots. Garlic braids hanging from the edge. Rusty milk churns nestled in the corner.

There’s a galvanised tub full of ice on the floor. She digs through it and almost moans at the jars of jam. She untwists one, sticks her fingers in it, and wipes it clean with her tongue and teeth. It’s tart and tangy but it’s food, sticking to the walls of her stomach, satiating her. And once she starts she can’t stop. She goes back to the wall and finds a stained jar, fishing out a handful of fermented cabbage, stuffing it in her mouth, her face tightly puckering at the sharp sourness.

The juice of the food goes spilling past her lips, sluicing down her chest. It sticks to the chasm between her tits and mixes with sweat, making her shirt cling to her skin, revealing the barest outline of her nipples. She’s so engrossed in keeling over the counter and stuffing her face that she doesn’t even notice the pointed shift in atmosphere. The deer outside stopping their rutting, the trill of birds ceasing. The leaves stilling, as if holding their breaths to hide. Thick, silvery clouds nestling together and eclipsing the sun, casting a thin overcast over the woodland, darkening the already-dim surroundings.

She’s too preoccupied to recognise the tell-tale croak of the door swinging open. It’s tinny, but bullied by the sound of her smacking on marinated cabbage. She doesn’t notice the dull, throbbing footfalls. Pays no heed to the stench of blood invading her senses because she believes it’s coming from her dry, leathery lips that split open as she widens her mouth to fit the cabbage inside.

It’s only when the room darkens, a box-shaped shadow sweeping over her vision, does her blood run cold. She freezes with a handful of vegetable raised halfway to her lips, the brine rolling off a cabbage leaf like it’s an awning, dropping to the floor—drip, drip, drip—the rapid succession of shedding liquid hitting the floor sounds similar to the beating of her heart against her fickle, feeble ribs.

The saline spray in her mouth gets soaked up by her tongue, making it puffy, too big for her mouth. She turns around clemently—treating the shadow like a wild animal—no sudden movements. She goes rigid.

It can’t be human.

It’s huge. Bigger than anything she’s ever seen before. Sweeping shoulders, broad thighs. Its neck is bent uncannily because it’s too big to fit in the doorway. Its chest rises heavily like a bull.

She tries to find a face, and when she does, the blood is drained from her.

It just makes her feel… uncomfortable. Its face is the poor imitation of a human, as if someone tried drawing one from memory but scarcely failed. Failed to capture the humanity, the animation, leaving it looking like a half-convincing resemblance. Its tapetum lucidum glows yellow, burning in the thin mist of moonlight that penetrates the newspaper sticking to the windows.

It stares blankly at her. The hair on her arms stick up, a bead of sweat slices down her neck.

“I’m sorry…”

The creature raises an arm and pulls on a hanging bead-chain, tugging on the light, which is simply a naked bulb in the middle of the kitchen. The kindle is weak but does more than the delicate moonlight. Just barely illuminates its face. His face.

She tries not to let her fear show. Tries not to preen under his depthless eyes, the mean twine of his lips. His hair that seems to have been shaved too closely to his scalp, if the nicks and small cuts on the shells of his ears are anything to go by.

He grumbles an idle prusten. He rolls his elbows back—his shoulder blades unfurling like folded wings—and twists his thick neck.

“What’re you doin’ in my home?”

“I’m so sorry,” she repeats, her words stifled around a wad of cabbage. “I– I’ve been lost for three days. I came up for a hike but lost my way and I saw your cabin and I’m sorry, but I’m just so hungry and–”

A deep, guttural voice peals from the living room.

“Simon!” It says. “Where should I chuck the deer? It’s too big for the livin’ room.”

The aforementioned Simon, she presumes, doesn’t answer the unobserved voice. He keeps his eyes on her, face twisted into a puckered, mean mug.

A string of footsteps precede the face that appears behind Simon’s shoulder. A rounder, ruddier face. A salt-and-pepper stubble and eyes so blue they glow like bioluminescence.

Johnny acts surprised as if Simon hadn’t smelled her from miles away. Her honeyed scent roiling off of her, curling into the air and thinning between the trees. Her sweat pooling in the gusset of her panties, raw and pungent.

He’s purposely coy. It’s written into the furrow of his brows and the caper of his cupid lips but the girl is too disoriented to catch on. She looks at him and beseeches, but almost faints at the deer hanging limply over his shoulder. He holds it like it weighs nothing—a sack of sprouting potatoes.

He coos. “Who’s this?”

“Lost bird,” Simon grunts. “Found her diggin’ through our food.”

“Oh, poor lassie,” Johnny hums. More so to Simon than the girl, which makes her squirm. “She didnae mean any harm, Simon. She’s just hungry… tha’ right, lass? Are ye hurt?”

She stutters out a nod, gesturing to how her jeans cling to her knees, sun-bleached and darkened with blood. She rolls her shirt over her ribcage, showing them her wounded torso. How her skin sticks to her bones.

Johnny bristles.

“The lass needs a place to stay, Simon,” he whispers. “And she’s hurt. Bleeding.”

They talk of her as if she’s advertised merchandise in a magazine catalogue. She squirms.

Simon turns to look at her. The depression in her cheeks due to her hunger and the split skin of her mouth. The pert curve of her breasts. The desperate look in her eyes.

He grumbles, looks over his shoulder at Johnny. “I’ll start the fire. You take the deer out back and drain it ‘fore it hardens.”

“Aye,” Johnny says. He thumps away in clunky boots and a thin t-shirt and jeans. The deer sways with his gait and disappears behind the screen door when he steps outside.

She redirects her attention to Simon, who’s already looking at her. More specifically, at her pulsing neck. His jowls are slightly unfastened, his pupils blown out and eclipsing his irises.

Presentiment settles in her stomach. She blanches.

Suddenly, Simon is grunting and gripping her arm, heedless towards her whimper of fear and fleeting stint of resistance. His nails are sharp, digging sickle-shaped impressions into her arm. He drags her down the hallway and into another room—a bathroom—and tugs the flickering light on. It lacks sheen, barely illuminates the room from its moss-covered nooks to the tiled floor caked with crusted dirt.

(The lightbulb is so dull. It doesn’t reach the farthest corner of the bathroom where the radiator is placed. The radiator bathed in black, hidden beneath the lip of shadows, so she isn’t able to see the forgotten handcuff hanging limply from one of the pipes.)

Simon works his heavy body around the bathroom. He leans over the clawfoot tub—which he dwarfs—and twists open the spigot, watching as brown-coloured water slowly ripens into something clear, gushing out of the faucet. He stuffs a plastic plug into the rust-ringed drain.

He straightens back into his full height. All-encompassing, panoramic. Simon is so impossibly large that it’s a wonder he has so much muscle packed under his skin. Rustic, hard thighs. A shirt that bends against his arms, about to snap.

“Take a bath,” he commands. “Get y’rself cleaned up.”

Simon shoulders past her and ducks to exit the bathroom. There’s no door separating it from the rest of the house, but a multitude of beads hanging above the threshold to imitate one. She keeps her eyes trailed on it while she strips—peeling off her jeans, pulling her shirt over her head. Rolling down her panties and consciously hiding them beneath her other clothes.

She clutches the lip of the bathtub for leverage and dips her toes into the water. Immediately, she melts. The hot water swallows her foot and travels like a spool of thread to the rest of her, weaving itself into her wounds, licking her open like the first thaw of spring.

She submerges herself fully, bringing her knees to her chest. Her neck hoists backward and into the water, soaking all the grit and dirt knotted into her hair. It’s like plying through syrup as she lifts an arm, retrieving a homespun bar of soap, clutching it to test her grip. There’s coily hair knotted into it and sticking to the dried bubbles. She brings it up to her nose, sniffing. Hesitates before rubbing it into her skin and around her throbbing wounds.

The water idly sloshes as she cleans herself. It’s a hollow sound, amplified by the echoey room. She trails her hand below her waist, slipping her sudsy fingers between her lips and stroking, rubbing herself clean.

Beneath the tinny sounds of water surrounding her like a petticoat, something else peals out. Something like a whine. Her fingers cramp above her warm cunt and she goes taut. She turns her head to the threshold of the bathroom and nearly screams but her throat puckers before she can, blocking it, her mouth hanging open in a soundless screech instead.

It’s Johnny. He stands in the middle of the hallway, peering into the bathroom and staring at her, half-obscured by the bead curtains. He looks like a sit-and-wait predator like this—silent and unassuming, if not for his blindingly-white smile shining through the curtain like strobes of sunlight breaking past trees. He steps inside now that he’s been spotted, and that causes ice to lick her organs—she sinks her breasts below the water’s surface, squeezing her thighs together. She bristles as Johnny strides impossibly close, the lip of the tub cutting into his thighs.

He stinks of sweat and iron and wood. His t-shirt clings to his skin, darkened with deer blood, outlining the barest hint of his bulky chest.

He grins. “Brought ye some clean clothes.”

“Oh. I… thank you,” she mumbles. “You can leave it on the toilet if you don’t mind?”

Johnny sets it down. A folded flannel and a pair of sweatpants. He idles a little longer, still smiling, before leaving the bathroom. She counts the minutes in her head and tries to find the right time to leave the tub, outstretching her hand for the towel once it comes to her. But the towel is just scarcely out of reach. The terrycloth grazes her fingertips, teasing her. It’s like it was methodically placed there. Bait at the end of a fish hook to ply her out of the water and stick her ass in the air, reaching over to grip the cloth and tug it over her breasts, stepping out of the tub.

Her eyes stay locked on the crude door while she changes. She buttons the flannel up to her neck and takes heed of the pointed absence of any undergarments, slipping her legs into the gauzy sweatpants, tying them at her waist.

Johnny bursts in as if on cue. He’s still slick with blood, his mohawk odd-angled, spun-thread and matted to his head with sweat. His cheeks bulge around another grin.

“Too big for ye, is it?” He pants. “Might as well take it off. Might trip and hurt yerself again. Wouldn’t want that happenin’, right honey?”

Johnny shortens the space between them in one stride. His fingers, thick and jaded, are already fumbling around the knot she tied, pulling it out of its bow and letting the sweatpants fall, pooling into a crimp around her ankles.

The flannel is big enough to reach her thighs. Still, she clenches her fingers around the hem and tugs it lower, preening under Johnny’s smouldering gaze. It’s almost paradoxical how it works—his eyes are icy blue, yet they have the same effect as basaltic molten. Burning hot. He’s fixated on her skinned knees, gnawing on his bottom lip.

“Simon’s got the fire goin’,” he says. “Let’s go get yer wounds cleaned too, aye?”

Johnny’s walking out before she can blink. She follows after him, flustered, stumbling into the living room lit by a dulcet fire. Simon’s kneeled beside it, sticking his hand in to adjust a lopsided stock of wood, unaffected by the flames that eat away his arm hair. Johnny takes the girl by the scruff of her neck, guiding her to a hand-crafted chair placed conscientiously in front of the fireplace. He presses on her—the sensitive divot between her shoulder and her neck—and pushes her into the seat, unzipping a first-aid kit.

Johnny takes her feet and pulls them into his lap. The angle makes her flannel hitch up, exposing her bare cunt to the hot embers of the fireplace, and the equally hot embers of Simon’s prying eyes. She squeaks and covers herself, averting her gaze as Simon’s stare darkens into the colour of midnight splash hanging over the sky.

“You’ll feel a wee sting,” Johnny warns. He rips the corner off a rag and drenches it in vodka, poising it over her flayed knees. “Should probably give my hand a squeeze or somethin’, ye ken? To lessen the burn, o’ course.”

She hesitates but slips her hand around Johnny’s all-encompassing one, her fingers barely meeting whilst wrapped around his palm. She winces when the ethanol meets her wound, shooting through her veins, and tries recoiling into herself.

But the amplitude of her pain swells, and her muscles girdle.

It’s Simon’s massive hand splitting itself across her thigh that keeps her pinned to the chair. His fingers bite rivets into her skin, the pinch overriding the sting of her tissue soaking up the alcohol.

“Stay still when he tells you to,” he grumbles. “Otherwise it’ll hurt.”

She wriggles uncomfortably. Tries not to flinch when the rag meets her knees again and burns her wound. Simon’s hand doesn’t leave her thigh until he’s throwing another block of wood into the fireplace.

Johnny hums. “So, what’re you doin’ up here? Religious retreat? Mental health?”

She smacks her lips, unsure if she should answer that. She chances a glance towards Simon and bristles because for some reason, she just knows that if she lies, somehow, he’d tell.

“Um. Just stepping away from home, I suppose,” she mumbles. “Friends. Family.”

“Oh. They dinnae care about you?”

She flinches. Not because of the vodka against her skin, but Johnny’s implications.

“No,” she says. Her words are so fickle, so distorted by misery that not even she believes it. “They do care about me. I just needed space.”

He nods. Slowly, his eyebrows press together. “I don’t remember much of my family. It’s a wee bit odd. Can’t say if they liked me or not…”

Simon squeezes the back of his neck. “Enough of tha’. Pay attention.”

Johnny makes a sound like he’s humiliated. It’s only when he unrolls a spool of gauze, wrapping it around her kneecaps, is he afforded mercy when Simon changes the topic.

“Where’s the bird gonna sleep?”

“We’ve still got a cot in the root cellar, aye?” Johnny replies. “For hurricanes and tha’. Figured she wouldn’t mind it there. Wouldn’t ye, lass?”

Clemently, she shakes her head.

Simon grunts. He stands up, towering over them both. “The deer’s there, Johnny. What kind of hosts would tha’ make us? Puttin’ her up with a corpse?”

Johnny blushes as if he’s been scolded. His bottom lip curls out, petulant, a waspish colour flooding his cheeks.

“Aye…” he grumbles. “Tha’s right. The livin’ room, then?”

The girl is sitting, her head oscillating between the two men like a pendulum as they talk.

“No,” Simon says. “We’ll move the cot to our room.”

Johnny nods. He scratches his stubble, pretending to think. “It’s important we keep an eye on her wounds, too.”

“Exactly,” Simon says, petting Johnny’s head. “Smart boy.”

He clicks his tongue and Johnny shoots up, scurrying out of the living room to retrieve the aforementioned cot. Muffled sounds peal out from the root cellar below them. Johnny comes stumbling back up in mere minutes with a rickety cot fitted under his armpit and disappears into a dark room.

“Best get to sleep before it’s too late,” Simon splays his hand over the small of her back. “Y’must be tired.”

She submits to Simon’s touch, letting him guide her through the cabin and into the darkest room lit only by a lone oil lamp.

Johnny is finishing up the cot when Simon releases her. He drapes a cable-knit blanket over the surface, fluffing up a pillow. She doesn’t point out how close it is to their bed, the lip of her cot almost touching their rickety mattress.

“Fair warnin’ lass,” Johnny begins, peeling off his shirt, kittening into bed. “Simon snores quite a bit. Dinnae be feart to smack his gob if he gets too loud, aye?”

She stiffly nods. She climbs into the cot and bunches the blanket around her, making a conscious effort to hide her bare legs. Simon crawls between them, the mattress sinking with his weight, and throws their whisper-thin blanket over his legs.

Darkness penetrates the room when he blows the lamp out. The only smoulder is the silvery glow of moonlight invading the curtains and the reflective light in Simon’s eyes.

He sits up impossibly straight, staring at her like a cryptid caught on a trail cam. It causes discomfort to congeal under her flesh, but slowly, the longer she looks, a bristle of sleepiness lays hold of her. She closes her eyes and falls into limbo. Her breaths thinning into a short, even pattern.

———

She’s between the threshold of awake and sleep when she hears it.

She can’t tell if it’s a dream or the amplified sounds of Appalachia. She feels as if she’s underwater or stuck in syrup, able to hear the rushing brook of her blood against her ears but unable to distinguish the sounds around her.

There’s a grunt. And a moan. The wail of the bed next to her snapping then creasing. Heavy breathing. Sprinting hearts.

Her head is so muddled she can’t register anything. Her mind tells her that the violent slapping of skin against skin is the crack of thunder. That the strangled whimpers are the call of a cottontail.

“Right there, Johnny?” A voice asks. “Takin’ my big cock so fuckin’ well. Greedy lil’ bitch, you are.”

A long, drawn-out whine chases after it. A choked-out scream as if something hurts, succeeded by a wet squelch.

“Look at ‘er,” that voice jeers. “Think she’d take it? Better than you? Think she’d bleed all over it like– fuck… how I smelt it on her?”

The other voice—broken in, wispy—chokes on a response. It sounds a little stifled, as if speaking through something shoved in its mouth.

“No… nae better than me,” it mumbles. “Nae better than me…”

It’s like she’s drowning in purgatory. She can’t move, can’t speak. She’s caught in a phantasmagorical limbo between reality and fantasy. She can feel the serpentine hands of something with no material existence wrap around her and stain her slick with sweat, sweeping over the space between her legs, licking a wetness up her pussy.

A dewy sound peals out. It’s a predator loosening its jowls, stringy and frothy, flaying its lips to bare its teeth. A rumbling roar rips out of its throat, animalistic. She can hear the popping of teeth sinking into flesh. The dull sound of skin breaking.

“Ah!” A squeal. “Simon, tha’– it hurts.”

She feels a vortex in her belly, an ache in her clit.

It’s like she resurfaces the water. All at once, she hears clearly. It’s a lone word whispered in a guttural cadence so close that she swears it’s mumbled against the hot hull of her ear.

“Good.”

———

She wakes the next morning with her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth and a damp heat between her legs.

Sunlight filters through the gauzy curtains, hitting the bed next to her. The bed is starkly empty she notes, as she crawls out of her cot and pops the stiff muscles in her back, stretching.

She pokes her head out of the bedroom and tiptoes around the cabin as if avoiding a barrage of landmines. There’s a downward force in her bladder that tells her she’s been in torpor for the better half of the morning, and a heavy crust in her eyes that shifts when she blinks. She finds her way to the bathroom and shucks the flannel over her hips, lowering herself on the toilet seat, emptying herself.

It’s the only stint of respite. The closest thing she can get to calm since losing her way in the mountain three days ago. She relishes in the idle birdsongs outside and the sound of overnight frost melting into the dew that slips off tree leaves, pitter-pattering to the ground. Listens to the stream of her pee peter out, and the ruffle of folding fabric as she tosses the flannel back over her thighs. She listens to the–

“How’d ye sleep, pretty girl?”

She flinches at the gruff voice. It’s written with sleep, barely lucid under a Scottish lilt. Her hands freeze under the running water of the tap as she watches Johnny waltz inside the bathroom, shucking his pants to his thighs and pulling out his cock, pissing in the toilet.

She’s stiff. Fixed to the cold clay tiles of the floor, unable to be bent. She tries not to let her eyes wander, tries to block out the chubby mass of muscle swinging between his legs.

“Oh…” her words are stifled by shock. “F-fine. I slept fine. Thank you again for opening your house to me.” She thinks back to last night—the whimpering, the croaking—and rashly decides to tack on, “But I did hear some weird noises. I could have been dreaming though.”

Johnny chuckles. “...Aye, it’s almost matin’ season ‘round these parts. I think you’ll be hearin’ more of that. It’s best to ignore it.”

Her body girdles when he sways his cock, shaking away the liquid on the tip. He stuffs himself back into his pants and pulls the flush, grinning.

“Bet you’re still hungry. Simon’s wrappin’ up breakfast. Let’s go.”

He pats her bum and makes her squeak. He grips the hem of her flannel and reels it around his knuckles like a leash, tugging her into the dining area—which is more of a nook nestled into the living room—and pulls out a seat.

“Hope ye fancy porridge,” Johnny chuckles. He splits his palm across the top of her head, pushing her into the chair.

She huffs and hoists her neck up, grimacing at the acrid scent of animal hide burning against the base of a cast iron pan. It takes a conscious effort to not crinkle her nose in disgust.

Simon ducks as he emerges from the kitchen threshold. He wields two bowls of food. One for her and the other for Johnny. She takes heed of how—despite his stature—Simon doesn’t have anything to eat.

However it’s a cursory thought, because she’s quickly pulling her lips into a weak smile and examining the bowl in front of her. Food is a generous word, since it looks more like coagulated milk than porridge and smells sour. Simon places a chipped plate of bacon alongside it. It’s curled because it’s overcooked, crusted with charcoal.

She swallows as Simon takes a seat next to her. Johnny, on the other side of her.

“Looks delicious,” she hums. She turns to Simon, “Are you… not eating?”

He picks an off-white tendon from his canine tooth, flicking it away.

He answers in a rigid tenor. “Don’t hurt your head over me. You eat your food.”

She marginally shrinks into herself, embarrassment licking up her spine. She feels like a chided puppy, but perhaps that’s the sentiment.

When she opens her lips and raises the spoon to her mouth, her flannel curls like a wisp of hair off her shoulder, baring her bruised albeit supple skin. She hastily pulls the sleeve back up.

She speaks around the stale porridge and her rising apprehension. “Uh, do you have my clothes from yesterday?” She asks, squirming as her sweat glues the back of her thighs to the chair, sticky. “It’s just, uh, they fit me better.”

“Oh,” Johnny blinks, “o’ course.”

She watches him stand up and slip through the backdoor. He walks towards a clothesline hitched between two trees and retrieves her clothes, returning with them tucked under his arm.

“Here ye go sweetheart,” he grins, setting them on her lap. Petting her head.

She slowly peels through her clothes. Her fingertips drag against her threadbare jeans, her overripe shirt, but never touch the sweat-imbued gauze of something more… intimate. Her maw tenses around the hot porridge.

“Where are my… um…” she lowers her voice even though it’s redundant—Johnny is leaned in close, practically huffing against her ear, sniffing her neck. “... Undergarments?”

Johnny tilts his head, puckering his lips in confusion. He’s written with the innocence of a puppy—whether it’s real or fabricated, she can’t tell. The words have begun bleeding together, blotchy and unintelligible.

“Panties, ye mean?” He laughs. “Ye never had any of those.”

She swallows thickly.

“No, I… I did. I wouldn’t go hiking without–”

“Ye must be goin’ crazy, lass,” Johnny says. “This was all you gave me. Nae panties.”

He stares at her with large, intercosmic, unassuming eyes. His gaze flickers towards Simon. It’s so fleeting that she almost misses it. The sweep of his blue irises widening, eclipsed by his pupils. She tenses. Omniscience hits her like a brick.

Her tongue goes heavy in her mouth, melting her words. The porridge turns frothy in her gut, nausea sticking to her organs and presentiment curdling in the air. She tightens her throat around a gag.

“... When can you drive me into town?”

Johnny reaches over and grips her thigh. He digs divots into her flesh like a fish hook caught in a flayed gill.

“You’re welcome to stay as long as ye want, pretty. There’s nae rush.”

She feels bile crawl up her throat.

“Oh, well, I just don’t want to overstay my welc–”

“He’s excited to play host,” Simon growls. His words are marked by firm determination, leaving no room for objection. He leans over the table, his wifebeater clinging to his muscle, his wiry chest hair pressing against the soft cotton. “We rarely get visitors ‘round here and he’ll be upset if you leave. Y’wanna make him upset?”

Finally, warnings blare like strobe lights in her mind. She fidgets in her seat, sweating, shooting a cursory glance to the backdoor. Calculating her chances of survival should she break through the mesh and make a run for it.

“O-of course not. Not after everything you’ve done for me,” she stutters, feeling a bead of sweat travel down her neck. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for asking.”

Simon settles back in his seat. Johnny, too, frowning around his porridge.

“Good,” Simon grunts meanly. “Now shut your gob an’ eat.”

She clemently chews away at her breakfast, preening under their smouldering gazes. Throughout her polishing off her bowl, she’s reminded Simon doesn’t have one. It’s unseemly for a man so sturdy to not be eating, but as Simon’s lips peel back, sated while he watches her take her final bite, she spots a spray of red liquid washing the spire of his fang tooth, glistening in the sunlight.

“How’d you like tha’, pretty?” Johnny asks. He collapses whatever thoughts—whatever inklings—begin to seize her about Simon as he smiles and their bowls, disappearing into the kitchen.

Right away, Simon is hooking his foot behind a leg of her chair, using it to pull her closer.

He’s centimetres away from her face when he says, “How ‘bout you start pullin’ your weight?”

Her eyes flicker up to see Simon hovering over her. He’s dewy with sweat, big and burly and drifting above her like the closet-dwelling monster from everyone’s childhood.

“You’ve caused enough trouble in my home,” he continues. “Ate a lot of our produce. It’s time you make up for tha’.”

She resists the urge to snarl. She doesn’t even want to be here yet Simon is insisting she fill her role—whatever that role may be.

But as she hoists her neck up at him, she gets skittish and looks away, her tongue knotting. She knows it isn’t smart to upset Simon again. He’s a beefy man with sharp canines and vertical pupils, with more hair sprouting from his forearms than what’s considered normal. A man who expels deep tonal flutters instead of regular breaths. Who—despite his size—can’t ever be heard approaching.

So she smiles instead, asking, “What is it you need help with?”

“Floors need scrubbin’.”

He shoves a rag in her hand and holds out a bucket of sudsy water she hadn’t noticed before.

“Kitchen, livin’ room… just get to work.”

The water sloshes over the lip of the bucket when he sets it down. Simon stands to his full height and stalks out of the room, leaving her alone with her multitude of thoughts.

Slowly, she stands up. She hauls the water bucket to the middle of the living room and is starkly reminded of her strength—or lack thereof. Simon had picked the bucket up so naturally, but with the weak tendons lacing her arms, she struggles. It doesn’t help that her vision is still spotty.

She lowers to her knees, wincing at the chord of pain beneath her bandages. She awkwardly drenches the rag in the water and wrings it dry, poising herself above the floor, working the rag into the floorboards.

She tenses when Johnny walks back in. He’s behind her. Unlike with Simon, she can feel him creeping up. She can feel his eyes on the lips of her pussy where her flannel hitches up while she’s bent over, scrubbing the floors.

Her cheeks burn. She blindly reaches behind her to tug the hem down, covering her warm cunt.

Johnny chuckles. “This is wha’ Simon has you doin’ out here?”

She looks over her shoulder, her skin prickling when she sees an axe in his hand.

“We’re goin’ to the yard to chop some wood,” he says, “but I see you’re already busy bein’ our bonnie housewife.”

She stutters. That operative word, housewife, burns a hole in the snail-shaped cochlea of her ear. “No, Simon j-just asked me to. He asked me to.”

“I know, sweetie,” Johnny replies. He squats next to her and rubs her back in slow circles, trying to hike up her flannel again. “Simon’s just takin’ the piss. He’s a meanie like tha’.”

She tries shouldering him away but Johnny only holds her tighter. Simon reappears in the doorway, watching with his arms crossed.

Johnny clears his throat. “Thought we’d spend time in the yard today. Doesn’t tha’ sound sweet?”

She looks at Simon who’s already looking at her through hooded, brutish eyes. She realizes that her autonomy is divested—that she has no choice but to follow what they say because something is very, very wrong here.

Perhaps this is what the mountain had warned her of. In all of its howling and breathing, the branches gripping her and the delirium written into her psyche, maybe, it was all a warning.

She hangs her head. “Mhm… sounds great.”

She has no time to process what’s happening before he’s folding his hand into the cavity of her armpit and dragging her up and out of the door, into the backyard.

It’s more of a cleared grove than a yard. Dead tree stumps litter the small expanse, grass the colour of ripe lemons because it’s been seared down. There’s a block of wood sitting on a stump, split down the middle. Sun-bleached clothes hanging over the clothesline.

“Y’can watch here,” Johnny says, gesturing to one of the tree stumps. “We’ve got to chop wood for dinner tonight.”

He pulls her down on the makeshift seat, finally letting her go. And just as Johnny pivots, slamming the spire of the axe into the block of wood, she sees him scrunch his nose as he sniffs his hand, drinking in the sweat from her armpit. It goes up his nose and through his nasal cavity, making him quiver as if her sweat is an opiate. Disgust slams into her, sinking in her stomach and settling there like sediment. She doesn’t even notice Simon walking out of the cabin and reaching for the axe, raising it over his head, until the resounding sound of wood snapping peals out, and she’s jumping in her skin.

“No need to be feart,” Johnny laughs. “Just his usual routine.”

She watches Simon work. He looks like a beast on its hind legs like this—impossibly large and splayed out with his arms over his head, growling whenever he brings the axe down on the tree stump, splitting it in two. Sweat burns through his wifebeater and turns the fabric translucent, revealing the barest outline of his chest. His chest hairs are matted with sweat, his sinews straining with each chop of wood. His face is curled meanly into itself, his trimmed hair nicked in different places from at-home shaving and washed with sweat.

Every time he brings the axe down on the wood, expelling a guttural groan, something stirs in her. He does it with such force, such strength, it makes her wary. He fractures the wood along the grain without so much of a blink, without any stifling in his muscle.

All those horror films she watches alone—when her friends say they’re too busy to join, when they lead her on after planning a get-together that doesn’t come to fruition—finally catch up to her, sowing the thought in her head that if she stays, she’ll become the tree stump. Impotent beneath Simon’s hacking and eclipsed by his behemoth-like body.

Her missing panties. Johnny’s sticky hands. Simon’s less-than-human behaviour. It all slams into her like whiplash.

Her fear rears its head as a rashly undertaken announcement tumbling out of her mouth.

“I have to pee.”

She ignores the way Johnny perks up, as if that activated something in his brain. His ocular vein goes large, rapt, his pupils blowing out as he looks at her and then her navel where her bladder sits, suddenly grinning.

“I can come with–”

“I’ll go in the woods,” she says. “Behind a bush or something, okay?”

Simon grunts. It’s a deep prusten sound as he splits another block of wood. Johnny pouts but lets her go, watching with those imploring eyes as she disappears behind some foliage.

It’s now or never, she decides.

She makes sure she’s concealed by the flowering of a tree before speeding up her walk. She moves like an unoiled machine, rusty, as her walk ripens into a run.

She doesn’t know where she’s running. She doesn’t know how far the nearest town is or how to find the trail she lost herself on, but she knows she needs to get far away from here.

The woodland is labyrinthine. Everything looks the same. She hopes she isn’t sprinting deeper into the heart of Appalachia and straight into her new grave, but still, she doesn’t stop running. Not until her lungs wilt into themselves and turn pruney, not until her heartbeat plateaus.

It’s as if she’s working against a rip current. She feels as if a part of herself is already woven into the woodland soil, feels herself written into the rotting, wet trees. It’s like she’s treading water instead of sprinting. And it’s like a supernova has erupted in her ankle as it gets caught under a root, sending her face first into the dirt.

She reorients as quickly as she can. She raises to her feet but winces at the flaring nerves in her foot, and looks around for a stick she can use as a crutch.

But something else catches her attention.

A dog-eared paper taped to a Basswood tree. It’s been eaten by the elements, mottled, barely hanging on. She steps closer and reads the blocky letters across the front, her blood running cold in her engorged vessels.

MISSING PERSON

Fleetingly, hope seizes her, but she soon remembers nobody back home is heedful enough to report her missing, let alone realize she’s missing in the first place. Additionally, the year suggests that the flyer is three years old. Her eyes slink down, trailing over what’s still intact.

LAST SEEN: CLIFF TRAIL

$3,000 REWARD FOR INFORMATION

Foreboding clings to her flesh. She quivers, her knees weakening.

FIRST NAME: J-

The tail-end of it is smeared, the ink bleeding and thinning into the paper. It’s unintelligible, so she trails her gaze lower, heeding the victim’s last name instead.

MACTAVISH.

“Sweetie!” Peals out from behind her before she can read any more. “What’re you doin’ all the way here? Had me and Simon thinkin’ ye ran away or something. Hah.”

Johnny hurries close and swallows her flinch with a tight hug. He frowns at the flyer.

“Why’re you readin’ this silly stuff?” He asks. He tears it off the tree and crumples it up, tossing it away. “That shite gives y’nightmares.”

“Johnny, I–”

“You went pee?” Johnny asks. Nearly makes her screech when he dips his hand low and cups her cunt, feeling around for any dregs of liquid. He buries his fingers unnecessarily deep between her puffy lips, blindly massaging.

“No…” he clicks his tongue. “No. You didn’t. Did ye lie to us? It dinnae matter, sweetie. Here. Do it here, pretty. I’ll wait.”

She musters whatever pluck she has left to shake her head.

However her spine is fickle. All it takes is Johnny glowering, his eyes darkening, his pout upending and curling into something meaner, to force her back into submission.

“Simon’s already angry ye pulled this stunt, sweetie,” he says. “I’m helpin’ you out.”

A tear escapes her. It rolls down her gaunt cheek like the dew that dribbles down trees. She’s quickly crying, expelling howls that burn her energy. She trembles as she squats to the forest floor and pushes pee out of her. She sniffles as she stands back up and lets the liquid sluice down her thighs.

“Good girl,” Johnny hums. “You’re so much sweeter when ye listen, ye ken?”

She sobs into her palms, her ribs so brittle they rattle together. Johnny coos vacantly at her, rubbing her all over the same way one rubs stone fruit to test their ripeness, and croons at her swelling ankle.

“See what happens when you’re naughty?” He asks, picking her up, carrying her close to his chest. “Let’s get you home, honey. These woods are no place for a bird like you.”

She hates how she curls into him. It’s her repressed underbelly fighting its way to the surface because the accumulation of neglectful family and friends has soured her, carving a chasm in her heart that forces her body to respond to Johnny’s affections. He’s a warm body for her, a pair of listening ears. It’s scraps, but it’s more than she’s ever gotten.

They make it back to the cabin in what feels like minutes. Simon’s waiting next to the door with his arms tightly crossed, his face meanly pinched. He growls like a provoked animal. He hovers like an executioner. He’s the living antonym of light at the end of the tunnel, huffing like a bull as Johnny carries her inside.

“How about you rest?” Johnny asks. He sets her down on her cot and pulls the blanket to her quivering chin, tucking her in. “Want some tea? What kind do you fancy?”

She purses her lips, trembling. Johnny sentimentally hums as if he’s sorry. As if he isn’t a part of her plight. Her piercing fear and deep-seated fatigue.

“Garden mint…” he says to himself. “I’ll be right back, bonnie.”

He disappears and returns a few minutes later with a cup dwarfed in his hand. Steam curls over the rim, thinning into the barren bedroom. He tilts it into her mouth, nursing her.

With every sip she feels herself slip more and more back into the familiar territory of limbo. Her eyelids become heavy, her cognizance slackening.

She peels her tongue off her gums to muster a whisper. It’s so weak. Barely audible.

“I wanna go… home…”

Johnny croons. He cups her cheek. “Honey, those people dinnae care about you. Not how me and Simon do. This can be your home.”

He raises the cup to her mouth again, stifling any protests on her tongue.

She hiccups around the drink, her eyes warm and wet.

That’s how she falls asleep.

With hypnotic tea invading her bloodstream, turning her eyelids heavy. Turning her helpless.

———

She wakes with a start.

It’s a crack of thunder that had stirred her, she realizes, instead of the enigmatic sounds of bed springs snapping.

The bedroom is dark and bathed in midnight light. She can barely see anything, save for the barest outline of Johnny in the bed next to her. When lightning strikes, illuminating the sky with a blinding impact crack, she’s able to see the swell of his body beneath his sheets and the shadow of his spun-thread hair. His chest rising and falling steadily.

She’s caked with sweat. Her perspiration soaks her flannel and makes it cling to her flesh, which is flared up as if she rolled in a pile of poison ivy. Her mind is so cluttered she almost folds over as she stands up, testing the grip of her toes on the wooden floor, testing her ability to balance herself.

She’s in limbo. A border space between heaven and hell, awaiting her execution. That’s how it feels as she tiptoes her way out of the room, reaching for an oil lamp, holding it out in front of her.

It’s almost worse like this. A weak flame that barely illuminates her peripheral. She fears that should she turn too fast, an aberration will materialize from the margins of her view and tear her to ribbons.

At this point, she supposes that’s a kinder fate.

She slips into a pair of large boots because she can’t find her hiking shoes anywhere. She opens the door and pokes her head out, immediately met with the spray of rainwater on her face, the wind running through her ropes of neglected hair.

Sheets of heavy rain fall from the awning, creating another divide that keeps her trapped inside the cabin. She steps onto the porch, listening for any incongruous noises. Even if there were any, they would be bullied under the assault of rainfall. She can’t hear her own thoughts like this, can’t formulate a plan to get away from here once and for all.

So of course she doesn’t hear the floorboards settle behind her. Of course, she doesn’t hear the heavy drumming of feet closing in on her.

She doesn’t heed the body behind her until Johnny is sniffing up her neck and snuffing out the oil lamp, laying hold of her in a grudging grip.

“You just dinnae listen, do you?”

He takes her by the scruff of her neck and pulls her back into the cabin, knocking the lamp out of her grip. It falls to the floor and flares into a crash, louder than the rain. Almost louder than her sprinting heart and the blood rushing to her ears.

She wrestles against his grip. “Fuck you both—you sick fucks!”

She almost vomits when her insults make Johnny moan, his cock fattening against her back in a crude Pavlovian response. Each time she struggles against him, his grip tightens. It reminds her of the mountain itself. The more she tries escaping its soporific arms, the deeper it drags her down. It’s fruitless for her to fight it—the whistle of the branches, the tight sinews of Johnny’s grip.

He swings his arm around her neck, pinning her against his chest in a headlock. Her lungs stutter and her eyes turn dewy, her deep-seated fear ripening into paralyzing terror.

A web of lightning shatters the sky, and she almost dies right there.

It’s Simon but worse. A mutation gone wrong. A changeling, perhaps. He’s squeezed inside the threshold, breathing wildly. His wifebeater is torn in different places across his body, split around tufts of fur. Fur that is matted with thick ichor, wiry and sprouting from the spot behind his ears.

Another flash of lightning ignites the cabin, revealing the shaggy coat of hair on his chest. The sheet of fat over his stomach that flutters when he puffs, growling under his breath. He clenches his jaw because he can’t clench his hands, because his thick fingers have turned into claws, sharp spires covered in gore.

Simon snarls. Blood and spit drip from his bloodied teeth as if he’s a rabid animal with a limp maw. He rolls his shoulders and cracks the cartilage in his neck, the sound pealing out so loudly, it’s more like the popping of bubble wrap in rapid succession.

She can barely see him through her tear-filled eyes. It’s the epilogue to her life as he strides in close, biting his talons into her hips and drawing out blood. A snarl of satisfaction escapes him when he smells it—her blood, sweet, albeit stale due to her dehydration.

“Anyone ever told you you’re an ungrateful mutt?” He growls. “I give you food to eat an’ clothes on your back but here you are, tryin’ to sod off.”

Her cheeks dimple when he grabs her jaw. She opens her mouth to protest, but her grievances get smothered beneath Simon’s claws. He stuffs his fingers down her mouth, stunting her complaints. She gags and coughs around the taste of metal and mire crusted under his claws, bile shooting up her throat.

“Dogs don’t talk,” he tuts.

He hoists his arm back and she puckers, preparing for an attack. However, instead of her cheek, Simon’s hand slices against her shirt. He tears her flannel into ribbons, making the fabric slide off her like water from a milk bath.

She stands naked, her skin pocked with fear. She shivers despite being pressed between Simon’s furry chest and Johnny’s warm arms.

“‘Bout time someone taught you some manners,” Simon mumbles. “I was in the middle of my dinner you know? Fuckin’ rude to interrupt.”

She blanches when she sees a limp coyote behind him, splayed out on the porch. She recognizes it as the orpiment-coloured fur to the hair flossed between Simon’s teeth.

She screams as he wrestles her from Johnny’s grip, pulling her towards the bedroom. Simon throws her onto the stiff mattress, her spine shuddering from the impact. She tries covering herself, tries wrapping her arms around her body, but Simon is having none of that.

He pounces, taking her hips and pinning them to the bed. He hovers over her, rainwater dripping from his broken nose, impossibly large as he makes up her whole world. Simon swallows her entire view, leaving her with no chances of escape.

Her gaze flutters down to the chub outlined by his sweatpants and decides she’s left with no chances of survival, either.

She flails her legs as Simon slithers low, flattening his nose against her cunt. She lets out a protracted cry as he hitches his lungs and inhales, breathing in the musk of her bare cunt. The sweat stuck between her fuzzy hair, the sticky arousal that spreads as he forces her legs open.

Simon hisses. It rides the ruck of his throat, expelled from his nose. It’s not in any capacity a human sound. It seems more like a bear flaring its nostrils, poised for attack.

Johnny notices the confusion between her eyebrows because he’s leaning in and murmuring against the shell of her ear, licking it.

“Remember wha’ I said about matin’ season, kitty?”

Johnny leans away, leaving it at that. Equivocal and cryptic and calcified into the furrows of her brain. She isn’t allowed to wade in her confusion though because Simon’s tongue is lolling out, sweeping a fat stripe over her pussy.

It’s like the first thaw of spring. Simon licks her open, spreads her out on his tongue. She can’t help the immediate warmth that courses through her, swathing her in silk.

She cries out. Her back bends off the mattress when Simon pulls her lips into his mouth to suck.

She looks to Johnny for help. She twists herself and tries reaching out, tries crawling off the mattress, but Simon is gripping her ankle and popping the gauze of her bandage with his claws, pulling her back down, wrapping his lips around her engorged clit.

Johnny’s face doesn’t show contrition, but is pinched in jealousy. He watches with a fat mass growing in his sweatpants.

She splits her hand over Simon’s shaved head, using the cauliflowered shell of his ear to try pulling him off of her. That only makes him growl, the vibrations quavering up her spine, his claws digging into her flesh.

She folds her arms over her face, sobbing. Simon’s tongue is wet and hot against her pussy, lapping between her soft folds, slurping her juices. She flushes at how wet she is. At how pleasure leaks through the cracks in her resolve and spreads all over her, reducing her to a panting mess.

Simon releases her clit with a pop. He raises to his knees, towering over her, and now she’s unsure if his glistening chin is because of the rainwater outside or her arousal.

“Hold her down, Johnny.”

Her heart drums against her chest. Johnny crawls onto the bed and kneels behind her head. He pins her wrists down with his kneecaps, keeping her from squirming.

“Will ye let me put my cock in ‘er mouth?” Johnny asks. “Simon, will you–”

“Shut it,” Simon snaps. He shoves down his sweatpants, his cock springing out. All of her nerves bristle like rope, her heart sputtering to a stop.

Simon’s cock is fat and heavy. It droops between his thighs, drooling with precum. It’s stiff but hangs because he’s so large, the engorged tip angling downward, his balls plump, ruddy.

He chokes his hand around it, tugging it. Her throat closes in on itself but her legs instinctively peel apart. Her puffy lips spread open and she flushes at the sticky sound, hoisting her neck back to look at Johnny.

He has his cock out too, pumping it. He grins when they lock eyes and smacks his dick against her cheek. Johnny presses his cockhead into the corner of her mouth, using it to tilt her lips into a repugnant curl. It’s reminiscent of a smile, but it isn’t one.

She wails.

They both make up her beginning and end. They trap her between themselves, leaving her with no escape. Simon at her feet, Johnny at her head. Each of the men are more intimidating than the other, both inspiring fear in her feeble heart. Both inspiring unwanted arousal between her legs.

Simon slaps his flaring tip against her clit. She mewls and hates herself for bucking her hips into him. She’s dew-skinned as Simon pushes her knees to her ears, thumbing her clit.

He deeply inhales.

His chest expands, tugging at the steel-wool hair felted against his big chest. He quivers as he expels his breath, his mating call, and finally feeds her his cock, pushing past her first ring of muscle.

Her body tries curling in on itself like a Venus flytrap, but Johnny is quicker. He bites his fingers into her wrists and pins her to the mattress, keeping her still while Simon stuffs himself deeper. Johnny kisses her tears away while he does it. It’s oxymoronic and it’s betrayal—a Judas kiss—while he wraps his lips around sweet encouragement against her cheeks.

“Got so much fight in ye, sweetie,” he whispers. “Just stop strugglin’ and it’ll feel good.”

Simon leans over her, his cock slipping deeper into her warm cunt. The blood and saliva from his maw drips onto her chest, the blood is so fresh there’s still steam, hitting her like scythes.

Johnny’s getting restless. He watches raptly as Simon starts slamming his hips into her. Johnny ruts against the chafe of her brittle hair and hopes it will give him satisfaction by proxy, but it does little to offset the ache in his balls. His lip warbles.

“Simon, please,” a voice crack, “can I put my cock in ‘er mouth?”

“Fine,” Simon growls. His hips are piston-paced against the girl’s skin, unrelenting and uncaring to how her nails scratch striated lines down his chest in her struggle. “Just stop interruptin’ us.”

Her jaw cramps when Johnny cups her chin. He puppets it open and forces his fingers down. They’re caked with dirt as he swirls them over her tongue, coaxing up the warm spit from the furrow of her throat to be used as a natural lube.

The only mercy she gets is the stint of time between Johnny pulling his fingers out and gripping his dick, laying it on her tongue. He forces her lips apart with the tip of his cock, smearing himself all over her.

“So pretty like this sweetheart,” he hums. “Simon smelt it on ye. Hundreds of klicks away. How sweet y’are.”

She doesn’t have the energy to decipher that. Most of it is being wrung on trying to fight the two men off, but it’s fruitless. Johnny is already slipping into her mouth, and her cunt is already stretched around Simon’s plump cock.

Johnny starts pumping in and out, his cock embroidering a burn in the hinges of her jaw.

She lies there limply, but as Johnny’s wiry hair meets her nose, she realizes there’s one thing she can do. In her thrashing, she undertakes the lapse of judgement to clamp her teeth together, sinking them into Johnny.

He yells and pulls himself out. Johnny wraps a hand around himself, squeezing, placating the sting. A warm wash of tears twine his eyelashes together, long and babydoll-like. He looks to Simon, preening, imploring.

“She bit me.”

Simon slows his hips, only scarcely so. Only enough for her to fill her lungs halfway before he’s dragging himself out agonizingly slow, burying himself back inside.

His eyes, hungry, flutter down to her. His lips wind back, revealing his sharp fangs. He snickers.

“Now you’ve pissed him off, hm? Dumb girl. This is why puppies need owners.”

He pinches her clit, softly tweaking it between the pads of his fingers. He looks at Johnny and condescendingly smirks.

“C’mere, boy. If she won’t suck you off, why not take a go at her other hole?”

She tenses. Fear washes over her like a rip current, all the way down to her ass that squeezes in protest. Her heart feels too big for her chest suddenly. She can’t even see Johnny’s blinding grin through her cloudy eyes as brine tracks down her cheeks, mixing with her sweat.

She whimpers. “No–“

A palm whistles through the air, exploding into a crack of thunder as it breaks against the skin of her cheek.

She lapses into silence. Little hiccups escape her while she peers up at Simon, sniffling.

“Yes,” he says.

He grips her by her hips and flips her over. This way, Simon’s on his back and she’s on top of him, his cock digging deeper. The position is etched with a degree of intimacy that causes heat to pool in her belly—she can feel his hot breath fanning over her face, she can see his feline-like eyes better.

She almost jumps out of her skin when Johnny presses his fingers into her ass, trying to break her in. He thumbs at the puckered muscle, chuckling when it tries squirming away from him.

“Cute little thing,” he says. “She ever been fucked?”

The way she sobs when Johnny forces his forefinger inside gives him his answer. He almost comes right there. At the sound of her slick lubing her up, at the sound of her being torn open like a stone fruit and her pitiful cries for mercy.

“Stop…”

“Stop?” Johnny repeats, “Sweetie, if I stop it’ll hurt when I fuck you. Ye need prep, silly.”

That only wracks her ribs harder. The patrionizing lilt in his voice, the way he pats her bum like she’s nothing but a dumb puppy. Johnny sinks another finger in, knuckle-deep, and curls himself into the walls of her ass, massaging it.

Simon starts thrusting again. He takes one of her tits in his mouth and tongues at her nipple, snapping his hips into her. It only adds more pressure to her other hole, the one being fingered open by Johnny.

“Y’think she’s ready, sweetie?” Johnny asks. He slaps his cock against her hole, teasing her. “I think she’s fuckin’ hungry. Look at ‘er winkin’ back at me.”

Johnny collects the saliva moulded into his gums and sputters out a wad of spit, wetting her tight asshole. He presses his cockhead against her opening, pushing himself inside.

She buckles, doubling over. Her cheek falls on Simon’s chest, chafing against his coarse hair. She’s never felt so full. Folded between the men and being fed two big cocks, left with no space to breathe. She isn’t given respite. No mercy. No time for her to stretch around their cocks.

Johnny splits his hand across the divot where her spine begins and shoves her into Simon. Her jaw hangs loose, her lips parted dumbly, her drool trickling onto Simon’s chest. She’s limp. Letting them have her way with her. Letting them brand her with their fingers digging sickle-shaped scratches into her skin. Letting them break her open with each of their jackhammering thrusts, letting their pants of encouragement and degradation swirl around her like whistles from the woodland, causing goosebumps to arise and her head to pound.

“Do ye feel it, Simon?” Johnny pants. “Is it comin’ on?”

His words sprawl by like a lazy river in her mind. Desultory, like lukewarm water. They don’t click into the empty chasm of her cognizance until something else happens. Something inhuman. Something that has her choking on the raw bile that scratches her throat and the spit coaxed into the rivets of her tongue by Johnny’s assaulting fingers.

Simon’s ramming gets shaved into stunted thrusts. It isn’t due to a loss of energy, but is due to something else keeping him from slipping out. A balloon pushing against the walls of her pussy, swelling inside her. It isn’t fat but is chubby enough for her to feel it, flutter around it.

The knot snarled into Simon’s cock plugs her up. She can’t pull herself off him because it’s puffed up past her cunt, keeping her stuck on top of him. It doesn’t help that Johnny keeps slamming his hips into her, riling the thin skin that separates her cunt from her ass, bending it to the shape of Simon’s cock.

Johnny gasps. “I’m close– shite, I’m close.”

She doesn’t want to admit it, but she is too. She feels her nerves begin to fray at their edges, her stomach wearing thin. Johnny slips his hand low and blindly sweeps at her clit, nibbling on the husk of her ear.

He only gets three more pumps in until he’s emptying his balls in her ass. He grabs her hair when he comes, puppetting her head back so her mouth falls open and he can spit inside. His thrusts are slow and deep and peter into something calm, his cock softening inside her. Johnny grins.

“Say thank you, kitty.”

It crosses her tongue as an unintelligible mumble. She can’t speak properly with Simon’s cock still in her.

Johnny chuckles at that. He wraps his arms around her and pinches her nipples. Twisting them, pulling them.

Simon’s so big beneath her, lounging like a bear. He fucks into her, his thrusts curtailing into sloppy snaps of his hips.

“He’s close, bonnie,” Johnny says. “Kiss ‘im when he comes. It’s what he likes.”

Finally, Simon’s knot unravels, his thick ropes of come sticking to her walls. He makes sure that the warm come dressing her is so deep, it’ll have no choice but to take.

Her body betrays her when it crests and crashes into her orgasm. She’s flashbanged with blinding light, gushing out an off-white liquid that coats Simon’s thighs. It seizes her so deeply it hurts, the panoramic pleasure. An orgasm that makes her brain melt, makes her feel otherworldly.

Belatedly, she remembers Johnny’s order. She leans down to kiss Simon, her lips leathery against his. She only wants a modest peck—something to sate Johnny—but she can’t pull away because her bottom lip is caught between Simon’s teeth, pinched, and being sapped of its blood.

He laps it up before letting her go.

He slips his softening cock out but keeps his come inside her with two fingers, his claws having retracted.

He huffs like a bull. He presses his heavy paw into her abused cunt, palming it. He reeks with a carnal musk, the aftertaste of his rut heavy in the air.

Suddenly, it all makes sense to her.

Simon is the crux of all cautionary tales. The mountains aren’t sworn off because of rabid raccoons or feral fishers but because of something eldritch, whose reputation and folklore precedes any proof of its existence. Whatever Simon is, it can’t be put into words or into anything material, so he’s condensed into the urban legends that have haunted the woods for centuries. The stories that keep hikers off needle-covered paths and unmarked trees and make them carry crucifixes in lieu of bear spray.

She doesn’t even realize she’s softly sobbing. It feels like that’s all she does these days.

Johnny hugs her as if he hadn’t taken a part of her dignity.

He kisses her, kittening into her so that Simon is able to wrap his arms around them both, hugging them.

The calm that lolls after the storm only bruises her further. They act so normal after they’ve stripped her of everything. Johnny massaging her thighs, Simon igniting a cigarette between his lips.

“Will you ever let me go?” She mumbles against Simon’s chest.

He exhales the smoke. “Go where, love? You came into my house, remember?”

Johnny won’t stop kissing her. He’s a pest that’s attached itself to her dewy flesh, trying to lick her clean. Simon curls his fingers in her and makes sure that’s where his come stays.

Simon takes another drag of his cigarette. “Not like anyone back home would miss you, anyhow.”

———

She watches with a smile on her face as Johnny roasts the flank of a moose on a homemade grill and as Simon chops some more firewood.

She lounges in a chair, swathed in her caribou-hide coat. Winter is at its height, laying a skin of pillowy snow across the mountain.

The cubs wriggle in her lap, pawing at the loose tendrils of her hair and trying to pinch her nose.

“Lookin’ so pretty today, mama,” Johnny hums. She giggles when he kisses her, scratching at the cubs’ bellies.

“Ain’t she bonnie?” Johnny turns around and prompts Simon, “Our wee looker.”

Simon pauses his wood chopping and nods. He grips the hem of his lumberman’s jacket and raises it to his forehead to wipe his sweat away, revealing his chest and his hair that disappears into the waistband of his jeans. The cubs yip when he resumes his chopping, splitting a tree stump in two.

She grins.

She loves her family. Her providers and the offspring of their seed. She loves the cubs’ fine hair rubbing against her cheek when they jump on the bed to wake them up in the mornings, their blunt fangs biting her when they’re hungry, and the tiny chines on their back where their sharp spine will eventually grow in, just like Simon’s.

Briefly, she tries to remember her other family. The one that came before this one. But all that encompasses her mind is a supermassive black hole in place of memories. For some reason she can’t delineate them. The face of her father is blurry and the features of her mother fit together like a crudely sewn patchwork quilt.

She doesn’t remember much of her family. It’s kind of weird. She can’t remember if they liked her or not.

But she knows that doesn’t matter. Not when she has doting men around her and their litter hanging off her hips, another one currently swelling under her belly.

She pays no heed to the missing person posters taped to the fringes of the mountain that look eerily similar to her. Not to the K-9’s that try tracking scents but fail because she’s written with Simon and Johnny’s musk. She ignores the odd helicopter passing through each month, scarcely flying past their ramshackle cabin.

None of it matters because she knows she’s where she needs to be.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #soap/reader #soap mactavish x reader #soapghost x reader #ghost/reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mw2 #simon ghost x reader #soap x reader #ghoap x reader #orion writing #soap writing #ghost writing #ghoap writing

3K notes · View notes

samaraxmorgan · 2 months

Text

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time We Went To The County Fair”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: pure fluff, frenemies dynamic, emetophobics be cautious (no one actually gets sick it’s just mentioned), Sukuna is trying so hard to be nice

Word Count: 2.89k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Sukuna always tries to give off the vibe that he’s too big and bad for anything. Everything is beneath him, everyone is merely a nuisance, and this Ferris wheel in particular is just too bland and boring for his tastes.

He acts like you held a gun to his head and forced him to come with you to the fair, but you really didn’t; if anything he forced you to let him tag along. You just happened to see a flyer in the mailbox and brought up that you were planning to go and he could tag along if he wanted to, the last thing you expected was for him to immediately start lacing up his boots and stuff his wallet into the pocket of his ripped black jeans, asking you a nonchalant “You ready?” not even a minute after you suggested it.

And now here you are, a decent train ride later and you’re at the top of the Ferris wheel sitting across from each other, looking down at the colorful lights of food stalls and amusement rides below you. You wanted to go on the Ferris wheel first since the sun is beginning to set, the sky turning shades of pink and orange as a gentle breeze chills the evening air.

Sukuna’s gruff and uninterested voice breaks the peaceful silence, “You could’ve looked out the window at home for free.”

You’re scooted to the edge of your little cart, elbows perched on the rusty metal railing and your cheek rested on your palm, looking longingly between the colorful lights of the roller coasters down below and the changing hues of the sky, “The view’s not this pretty at home.”

All he can respond with is a hum, his arms stretched out across the railing behind him as he leans his back against the hard metal wall of the gently swinging cart. From the corner of your eye you’d swear you could see him watching you, but when you shift your gaze towards him his head has already turned to look down towards the carnival beneath you.

He outstretches his arm and points toward one of the rides, colorful lights spotted around the outside of its spaceship style design begin to transform into streams of light as the ride starts to spin and twirl around, “We’re doing that one next, too fuckin’ boring just sitting around.”

You turn your body towards him and give him a sarcastic grin, “What if all the spinning makes me sick?”

He scoffs, gently kicking your leg across from him with his combat boot, “If you throw up I’m pretending that I don’t know you.”

“Boo.” You roll your eyes at him and look back towards the fair as the Ferris wheel begins to spin. You reach your arm out of the cart and point at a ride in the distance, a large boat shaped contraption swinging back and forth before turning completely upside down, the passengers' screams echoing through the open air, “Would you go on that one?”

He gives you a sly grin, “Only if you go on it too, you didn't drag me along just to watch, did you?”

“I didn’t drag you here, you might as well have begged to come with me.”

“Oh fuckin’ please,” He leans towards you, propping his elbows on his knees and looking up at you, “You gave me those ‘lil puppy dog eyes when you showed me the flyer.” He mimics a dramatic pout, making you groan and press your sneaker onto his chest to push him away.

“You’re unbearable.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The metal steps creak below both of your feet as you and Sukuna step into the spaceship ride; the walls are round and covered in separate metal panels for each person to stand with their back against, and in the middle of the ride there’s a booth for the operator with large buttons and levers. You and Sukuna find two open panels on the wall and stand in front of them as the doors to the ride slide shut, leaving you both and everyone else blocked off from the festivities going on outside.

The operator looks bored as they flip a switch above their head, the lights dying off before you hear the clicking sound of buttons being pushed, rainbow lights streaming along the ceiling in swirling patterns above your head. Blaring loud techno music starts to blast from massive speakers in the operator’s booth as you feel your balance start to waver. Within seconds everyone’s backs are slammed into the wall, fits of giggles and startled screams surrounding you in the ride.

You turn your head to look at Sukuna and he’s already grinning at you, he tries to yell something to you but the music is far too loud to hear him. You open your mouth to yell “What?!” but instead a yelp is ripped from your chest as your entire body slides up the wall. He points up towards you and laughs, you try to kick him in the shoulder but the pressure of the ride spinning is keeping you effectively plastered to the wall, hardly able to move at all.

Sukuna, on the other hand, is somehow barely affected by it; deciding that it’s time to show off as he plants his palms onto the wall behind him and bends his knees to be completely off the ground. He stumbles back slightly on his first attempt to push himself up, but by the second try he’s crouching completely upright on the wall.

“What the hell are you doing?!” You scream out to him, but he can hardly hear you over the loud music and playful screams of everyone on the ride.

He’s got a massive grin plastered on his face as he stands to his full height so casually, as if the pressure of gravity just doesn’t affect him, taking a broad step over your stiff body to stand with his large combat boots on either side of your hips. He takes a knee over you, wrapping one of his hands around the back of your neck and the other behind the small of your back, leaning forward and yelling into your ear.

“You’re coming with me.”

It feels like you’re going to fly back into the wall as he pulls you into his arms, his strong grip keeping your body flush against his as you try to raise your arms enough to wrap them around his neck.

“You’re insane! Put me down!”

You can feel his breathy laughter on the crook of your neck as he lifts you up to stand with him on the wall, his hands never loosening their protective grip on you even as your feet plant themselves on the wall. He’s holding you so close, you’re not sure if your head is spinning more from him or the carnival ride. Your arms are wrapped tightly around his neck, your head pressed flush against his broad chest and tilted up towards the flickering lights adorning the ceiling.

“Not so bad, see?” You can hear the grin in his voice, his lips brushing against your ear while he speaks to you, “Not gonna drop you, calm down.”

Can he feel how fast my heart is beating?

The pressure in your head starts to feel relieved, but at the cost of your balance as you stumble forward. Sukuna completely wraps his arm around your waist and lifts you off your feet, taking long strides backwards off the wall and back onto the floor as the ride slows to a gradual stop.

“Hey!” The operator is screaming over the music as the large doors slide back open, “You two! Off!”

Sukuna chuckles into your ear as he drops you onto your feet, “Oops.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“I can’t take you anywhere-“

“Ugh, how was I supposed to know that guy would be such a pussy?”

“Sukuna!” You slap his arm, “You’re gonna get us kicked out!”

He just huffs and rolls his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest as you both walk side by side through the fair. You knew he was nothing but trouble, and you feel a little stupid for assuming he wouldn’t drag you down into his bullshit with him, but you’re stuck with him now; at least until your lease is up. Maybe you shouldn’t invite him out with you anywhere after this, but when you glance up at his stupid grumpy expression you get butterflies.

With a face like that it’s no wonder he gets away with anything.

He’s so… annoying. That’s what you like to tell yourself; it’s annoying that you can’t stay mad at him, that he gives you that smirk that makes your heart race, that he held you like that on the carnival ride. He drives you insane in all the best and worst ways, either waking you up in the middle of the night by being loud and obnoxious coming home drunk from a concert, or making you go crazy wishing he was home with you while he was out with his friends.

“Are you even fuckin’ listening?” He snaps you out of your trance.

“No.” You huff, breaking your gaze from his. Did you doze off while staring at him?

“Brat,” He wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls you towards a pop up stall, the stall walls lined with balloons and stuffed animals, “You beat me in this and I’ll… behave for the next one.”

You scoff at him, “No you won’t.”

A small smile creeps onto the corners of his lips, “… Yeah you’re right.” You roll your eyes and turn away from him, but he sidesteps in front of you, leaning down to match your height, “Tell you what, let’s make a bet.”

“That’s a terrible idea.”

He smirks, “Winner picks out a tattoo for the loser.”

You laugh right in his face, “Absolutely fucking not!”

“What?” He gives you an exaggerated pout, “You don’t trust me?”

You cross your arms and glare up at him, “You would make me get some kind of gang tattoo.” You say sarcastically.

He mutters under his breath, “Shit, am I that predictable?”

“Sukuna!” You kick him in the shin.

“Fine, fine. Piercing.”

You look over at the plastic machine guns mounted onto the edge of the stall, noting a toppled over “out of order” sign next to the red gun. Maybe it’s a bad idea to humor him, but you know damn well he’d pick that red gun over the baby pink ones surrounding it, you might be able to play dirty if he hasn’t noticed the sign that fell over.

A grin paints your lips as you look back at him, “You’re on.”

His head cocks to the side slightly, “Really?” He looks genuinely surprised, but definitely not disappointed, “Shit, that was easy.”

He strides over to the stall, planting himself right in front of the red gun, exactly where you want him. You suppress your smile as much as you can as you walk up beside him, wrapping your finger around the trigger of the pink gun next to him. He’s looking down at you so cocky as the game attendant counts down for you both to start.

“Three!”

“You know…” He leans down towards you to speak into your ear.

“Two!”

“I know a guy who does eyelid piercings.” He states smugly.

“One!”

Like clockwork, you start peppering through the balloons while his gun immediately jams.

His brows furrow in frustration and you look towards him, giving him a mischievous smirk, “You’ll have to give me his number.”

As the game comes to a fast end, you learn that Sukuna is such a sore loser, grumbling about how that was “fucking rigged” and that you’re “a dirty little cheater,” but you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face if you tried. You doubt he’ll hold up his end of the bet, and you’re not really that concerned about it to be honest, that frustrated look on his face is more than enough of a prize.

“Yeah yeah,” You giggle, “I’m just the worst huh? I’m gonna run to the bathroom, how about you win me something while I’m gone?”

He shoots a glare down at you, “No promises.”

“Oh yeah, because you fucking suck at these games, right?” Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth in a futile attempt to keep a straight face, you just can’t help but smile, it’s a nice change of pace for you to be the one getting on his nerves for once.

“Such a fuckin’ brat.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Something about Sukuna is suspicious when you meet him back at the games. His grin has returned once again and he’s holding one of his hands behind his back. His eyes light up when they catch yours, taking long strides to meet with you.

He leans down to be eye level with you, keeping his hand tucked away behind him, “Close your eyes.”

“You didn’t…” You look up to his eyes but his gaze flickers away from you.

“Shut up. Close your eyes and give me your hand.”

You let out a sigh, shutting your eyes and holding your hand out in front of you. Your brows furrow in confusion as something cold and squishy lands in your palm, “What the fuck…?”

“You know how you said you wanted a pet?”

You open your eyes and are greeted with… a goldfish. A little tied off plastic baggie dripping condensation onto your skin as the tiny fish swims in panicked circles, “Sukuna!”

“What?” He stands up straight, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “I thought you’d like it.”

“When I said I wanted a pet I meant, like, a dog!”

He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, “Well you won’t let me get a cane corso, so-“

“Because they’re a hundred and fifty pounds.” You mutter over him.

“Say hello to Brat Junior.”

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me.”

He’s definitely not kidding if the grin on his face is saying anything, he takes a step forward and pokes the bag, watching the fish squirm inside, “He’s got your attitude.”

“Oh my god,” You rub your temple with your free hand, “We need to go get a fish tank.”

“We’ve got bowls at the house.”

“No! We are not mistreating this fish, asshole.”

“Don’t call him fish, he has a name.” He declares sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest.

You mutter curses under your breath, “Brat Junior needs a tank. A real tank, with a filter.” You pull Sukuna by the sleeve of his shirt, dragging him along behind you, “There’s a pet store around the corner, let’s go before they close. And you’re paying.”

“Hey, why am I paying for this shit? It’s your pet.”

“It was your stupid idea!”

You both leave the loud chaos of the fair, walking along the quiet sidewalks to the pet store. The skies have gone dark now, the moon making itself at home above you as you cradle your beloved Brat Junior in both of your palms, trying to keep the water in his bag from swaying too much.

You and Sukuna bicker the whole walk there until you make it to the sliding glass doors of the pet store, quiet music playing through the speakers as you walk across the shiny white floors to the fish section. You both split up so he can pick up a tank while you sort through food, but shortly after he walked away he’s already making his way back to you.

“We’re gonna have to flush Brat Junior.” He says plainly.

You defensively clutch the fish close to your chest, “Absolutely not!”

He rests his elbow on one of the shelves lining the wall, leaning his side against it, “Then you’re paying for half of the fish tank.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, “You broke now?”

“Lady at the counter said he’ll get,” He straightens his fingers on each hand, placing them together like a prayer before parting them about a foot away from each other, “This big.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“I wish I was joking, the tank is $600.”

You blow a raspberry, slumping your back against the wall and looking down at the goldfish in your palms. You’re silent for a moment, but then you let out a reluctant sigh, “I’ll pay half, but you’re carrying it on the train ride home.”

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

You hold your apartment door open, watching Sukuna maneuver the giant 40 gallon fish tank through the small doorway, “Got it?”

He grunts in annoyance, “A little help would be nice.”

“Ooh, about that,” You hold the little plastic baggie up in your palm, “My hands are full with the baby.”

He blows his bangs out of his eyes, carrying the fish tank into the tiny apartment, “Should’ve fuckin’ flushed him.”

You let out a mock gasp, cupping the goldfish in both of your hands and holding it up to your face, cooing at it, “Did you hear that? Your father doesn’t love you.”

Sukuna placed the tank onto a long empty table against the wall before flopping on his back onto the couch. His eyes flicker between you and the fish for a moment, a faint smile creeping onto his lips.

“I knew you’d like that little fucker.”

A/N: Fun fact did u know that those fair fish grow to be 12 inches long? Unfortunately this fic is based on true events of when my boyfriend and I won TWO OF THEM at the fair and had to spend $600 on a fish tank for them (rip my wallet). Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

#he’s such a pain in the ass I love him sm #also pls lmk if there’s any tagging issues!! I’ve never had a taglist this long before #nav ryomen sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #ryomen Sukuna #Sukuna #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #my writing #roommate Sukuna au

775 notes · View notes

shellshocklove · 1 year

Text

i wanna be your lover | joel miller

pairing/AU: 70s!pornstar!joel miller x inexperienced!female reader

summary: miserable after losing your job, your friend drags you out to a club to dance away your sadness. on the dancefloor you meet a handsome stranger, who then whisks you away into his fantasy world as his assistant for his porn career. what happens when the lines get blurred?

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! reader is 23, joel is in his early 30s, swearing, misogyny (bc of the times™), accuracies and inaccuracies about the 70s, drinking of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes (it’s the 70s alright), mentions of a bad previous sexual encounter and losing your virginity, use of pet names, porn (obviously lmao), sextoys, only one bed, oral (f receiving), fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: i had fun with this one, but it turned out to be longer than i first intended. i hope people will like it still! also big thank you to @dustydaddyyy, for proofreading this

main masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Under a pink and orange Los Angeles sky, your platforms clicked against the sidewalk. Day left an hour ago, dipping behind the green hills of Laurel Canyon. Walking down The Strip, arms linked with your friend Deborah, the street bustled in the awakening night. Music spilled from clubs and bars, seducing the dressed-up crowd passing by this Friday night.

“Do a little dance, make a little love,”

“This,” Deborah emphasized, coming to a stop outside a club, “is exactly what you need tonight to get your mind off everything.”

She clutched your arm tighter to her body, almost like she was afraid you’d run off, and maybe she had good reason to think you would. You weren’t exactly in the right mood to party. Only a few hours ago, you’d gotten fired from your job. Three years as Mr. Cooper’s personal assistant down the drain.

Mr. Cooper was the creative director, and one of the partners at the advertisement agency where you’d worked. He was an important man, and he’d dealt with all kinds of clients on a daily basis. For you, it had been a learning curve of a job. You had no prior experience as a personal assistant, and it had been intimidating.

You’d only just moved to the City of Angels when you’d gotten the job. With next to no money, having left behind your family and your small town, you were desperate for a job. When you’d seen the ad in the newspaper, left behind on the table of a café near your apartment, you’d stepped out on the sidewalk immediately to find a payphone. During the interview Mr. Cooper had looked you up and down and scowled as he’d read your resume. You’d shrank in your seat under his gaze, but even with your lacking resume, Mr. Cooper had hired you on the spot.

Later, during your first full week at your new job, you’d come to discover why Mr. Cooper had hired you so quickly – he’d been desperate for a new assistant. Overhearing some of the other ladies whispering to each other during lunch, you’d been able to piece together exactly why. Apparently, Mr. Cooper and his former personal assistant had been having an affair. He’d gotten her pregnant and wanted nothing to do with her or the baby – he was a married man after all. This was where the story had gotten hazy, and the grape vine sang different songs. One version of the story said he’d forced her to get an abortion and riddled with grief over the dead baby and their failing relationship, she’d quit her job and moved back to her parents in Maine. While the other version of the story said that, rightfully angry at Mr. Cooper for not taking any responsibility over their situation, she’d gone to visit his wife at home to tell her about what’s been going on. Which story was the truth, you don’t know. What you did know, was that Mr. Cooper was still married, and his previous assistant was no longer working for him.

Even if the job had been intimidating at first, you’d quickly gotten used to it. You stayed on top of everything: Mr. Copper’s clients, his calls, his schedule. Ordered flowers for his wife, and even sent boxes of chocolates to his various paramours. You’d made sure the bar in his office was always stacked with his favorite bourbon, and most importantly: you’d made sure to be seen and not heard. It’s what he told you, in the job interview, that he wanted.

You had thought you were doing a good job, but clearly, Mr. Cooper had been laboring under a different impression…

Your day had started like every other day – normal. You’d arrived at work fifteen minutes before Mr. Cooper, like always. Dutifully greeting him with a sweet “Good morning, sir!” at your desk, and served him his morning coffee minutes later. The day continued like normal, occupied with calls and speaking to clients, you had no idea what shocking message you’d receive at the end of your day.

Outside the club, you gave Deborah a meek smile which faded when you saw the line snaking its way down the street, “Sure, but… we’ll never get in.”

“Get down tonight, get down tonight,”

The words of KC And The Sunshine Band traveled through the open club door, the music filled the warm summer air.

“Don’t worry, babes!” she beamed, “I know the owner.” With an overdramatic wink and a giggle, she pulled you towards the bouncer.

“Baby, baby, I'll meet you, same place, same time,”

“How exactly do you know the owner of this place?” you queried, as you passed through the door of the club while the music got louder and louder.

“Where we can get together, and ease up our mind,”

“Let’s just say we had a weekend together…,” she giggled, “and I got to know him very… intimately.”

Your eyes widened at her implications, and Deborah giggled even louder.

“Don’t look so surprised!” she laughed, “I’m all about free love,” she joked, putting up a peace sign.

A heat burned your cheeks. Still, after three years in LA you needed to constantly remind yourself that you weren’t in your small rural hometown anymore. No one was going to arrest you for talking about sex. Nevertheless, the habit was hard to shake, and the roots of the rules you’d grown up with – the ones that had taught you to be the perfect student and the perfect daughter – stayed embedded in your mind.

“So…” Deborah started, her back against the bar while she took her first sip of her Apple Martini. She’d ordered you some fruity cocktail you’d never had before that she swore you’d like. “What exactly did that sad excuse of a man say to you when he fired you?”

With a scrunch of your nose, you turned your attention to your drink, taking a sip. It tasted sugary, but fresh, one of those dangerous drinks where you couldn’t taste the alcohol.

“Let’s not talk about it?” you sighed, shooting Deborah another meek smile.

She returned your smile, but it was full of pity. “You’re right! Let’s not– Let’s forget that fucker,” she said, taking a generous sip of her drink, “you’ll easily get a new job! I know it!” she smiled.

Not soon after Deborah had finished her first drink, a man interrupted your conversation. The man was tall, with black wild hair, pork chops and a matching mustache. He was wearing a flower-patterned shirt tucked into a pair of brown bell-bottoms. The top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, revealing dark chest hair and a gold chain. He wasn’t bad looking.

His hand on Deborah’s back didn’t seem to bother her, quite the opposite, she jumped excitedly, throwing her hands around his neck in greeting. You couldn’t hear what he whispered in her ear over the music, but it made her laugh.

“This is Tommy! He owns the club,” Deborah introduced you.

With a friendly smile, you shook Tommy’s hand and introduced yourself. His grip was firm, not like those people that made shaking their hand feel like gripping a dead fish. You decided that it was a good sign.

“So– are ya enjoyin’ yourselves, ladies?” he asked with a charming smile.

“Oh, yes!” Deborah smiled, her painted nails landing on his bicep, “But I think we’d enjoy ourselves even more after another drink.”

With a knowing smile and an easy laugh, Tommy ushered the bartender closer. “’nother round for these two beautiful ladies,” he ordered, “and… they’re drinkin’ on the house for the rest of the night,” he added, sending Deborah a wink.

The bartender served you your second drink just as Tommy convinced Deborah to dance with him. Quickly, she downed her Apple Martini before she turned to you, guilt written all over her face.

“You okay by yourself for a little bit?”

“Yeah– sure!” you nodded, “Go have fun!”

With a sorry smile and a promise to be right back, Deborah left you at the bar, dragged out on the dancefloor by Tommy.

Left to your own devices, you still felt a little awkward. This was supposed to be a girls night. Pushing off the bar, you turned to lean your back against it. You bopped your head to the music, trying to not look so out of place. In your hands, your drink was slippery from the condensation around the glass. Out on the dancefloor, the crowd looked like it moved in slow motion through the blinking lights, bodies twisting their hips and grooving to the beat. You took another sip.

It’s a strange feeling, feeling so alone, while surrounded by a crowd of people. To your, a couple gazed lovingly into each other’s eyes as they passed a cigarette back and forth, a ribbon of smoky white, clouded them in a love fog. They leaned closer, sharing a kiss. You quickly averted your eyes, desperate for something else to rest your eyes on.

Instead, they fell on a man.

You locked eyes with him from across the room. Clad in tight denim he sat casually in a booth in the corner, legs spread slightly. His hand was wrapped around a whisky glass, with a cigarette pinched between his fingers. With a shy smile, you quickly looked away again, eyes back to watching the bodies on the dancefloor. You took another sip of your drink, trying to act casual.

He wasn’t watching you, was he? Why would he? No one usually looked at you twice.

You were no good at this. Flirting. You were painfully awful at it to be completely honest. Too shy to be sexy, and never interesting enough, or pretty enough for a second date.

Your experience with dating didn’t really go further than the few dates you’d gone on with John, from accounting. He’d acted so sweet: opened doors for you, held out your chair, kissed you at your doorstep at the end of the night. He had been a dream. Then on your third date, he’d invited you back to his place for a nightcap. One thing led to another, and soon you were laying under him as he thrusted inside you. It was your first time – and he hadn’t known. It had hurt so much; you’d turned your face away so he wouldn’t see your tears. After, he’d called you a cab, not bothering to even kiss you goodbye. In the office the next day, he’d pretended like you’d never even existed: no more tender kisses, no more door opening, no more smiles. Your dream had turned into a nightmare.

He’d pulled you aside during lunch and told you it wouldn’t work out between the two of you. You were just such different people. You’d deflated like a balloon at his words, sinking into your chair as you watched him walk down the corridor back to his cubicle. To make matters worse you’d overheard him say, to some of his colleges by the watercooler, how awful in bed you’d been. It had been humiliating. And now, every time you as much as attempted to flirt with someone, a bell of shame rang in your ears.

The man couldn’t have looked at you. He’d for sure only looked in the direction of the bar. But something burned your cheek, and you couldn’t fight your eyes from trailing back in his direction.

Dark hair and a tidy mustache. Lips pulled up into a cheeky smile as you locked eyes with him again. He took a drag of his cigarette, and the fire lit up his handsome face. You felt something pool in your stomach. His gaze still on you as he exhaled, challenging you with a raised eyebrow. Again, your cheeks burned, and you had to look away. Suddenly, your own platform shoes looked extremely interesting.

“I remember when rock was young, me and Susie had so much fun,”

The sound of Elton John was the perfect distraction from the alluring stranger. You were sure that if you looked back at him again, you’d only embarrass yourself. You always did. Slurping up the rest of your drink, you pushed off the bar, and headed towards the dancefloor.

“Holding hands and skimming stones. Had an old gold Chevy, and a place of my own,”

Moving your hips to the beat you vanished in the bodies. And soon you were “hopping and bopping” to the Crocodile Rock, singing loudly along with the crowd to “Laa, la-la-la-la-laa”.

The air was clammy and stuffy, and sweat clung to your skin, but you couldn’t find it in your heart to care. You were here to leave your shitty day behind. To dance it away. You moved through the crowd; a smile bright on your face while your feet couldn’t stay still. The handsome stranger in the booth, already forgotten.

As the song faded out, a new song faded in. It was slower. A slightly erotic, but melodic guitar filled the room, accompanied by a luring salsa rhythm. You slowed down your dancing. It felt like you were threading through water.

“Ain't got nobody that I can depend on. Ain't got nobody that I can depend on,”

A pair of hands landed on your hips, making you jump. Behind you, you heard the deep chuckle of a man.

“Relax, darlin’,” he whispered in your ear, moving your hips in time with his.

You leaned back against his body; head tipped back against his broad chest to get a look at the man. Your stranger from the booth. He wore a cocky smirk, but he didn’t come across as full of himself. He was confident. Confident in the way he held your body – big hands splayed over your hips. Confident in the way he danced, like he knew exactly what he was doing, and he did.

“Ain't got no one (no tengo a nadie). That I know of (no tengo a nadie). That I can depend on (no tengo a nadie),”

You let him move your body, turning you around to take your hand in his, pulling you closer to his chest. He smelled like cigarettes and cologne. He’d been watching you, you realized, not the bar. Interested enough in you to follow you out on the dancefloor. It intimidated you, but under the intimidation it also excited you.

He led your movements. You were no dancer, but he made it so easy, spinning you around with ease before pulling you back towards his body. The eye contact was intense, like he was searching for your soul. Santana’s wailing guitar and the stranger’s hand at your waist was the only thing grounding you to the moment.

“I ain't got nobody, that I can depend on (no tengo a nadie),”

The song reached its climactic end. The man spun you one last time before he pulled you tight against his chest. It was like the song’s ending had broken a spell over the two of you, the air of sensuality was gone, and replaced by his genuine smile and breathy laugh.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asked you over the funky bassline of Eagles’ One of These Nights.

Wide-eyed, “Please,” was the only thing you could utter.

With a hand resting at the small of your back he led you through the crowd towards the bar, where he got the bartender’s attention immediately.

“An Old Fashioned for me Doug, and…” he looked towards you with a smile.

“Um… a Tequila Sunrise?” you said with a shy smile.

“A Tequila Sunrise, for this beautiful lady,” he told the bartender.

Grabbing one of the bar stools he sat down and gestured for you to do the same. You’d just about sat down before he leaned forward, grabbed a hold of your stool, and pulled you closer to him. A squeal escaped you before it turned into a giddy laugh.

“Thank you, Doug!” he told the bartender when he returned with your drinks.

“On a first name basis with the bartender– you here often?” you asked him, taking a sip of your drink.

“Not as often as I’d liked– it’s my lil’ brother’s club,” he told you, taking a sip of his own drink.

“You’re Tommy’s brother?” you wondered with a frown, a little shocked.

“You know Tommy?” he asked, equally shocked.

You shrugged, “Yes– well… not really.”

He took another sip of his drink, eyes urging you to go on.

“I met him earlier– he’s… well,” you didn’t know how to explain it, “I’m here with my friend Deborah, and I guess her and Tommy are…” you trailed off.

“Fuckin’?” he finished for you, grin wide on his face.

You only nodded, swallowing down another sip of your drink.

“Yeah, I’ve heard all about Deborah…” he trailed off with a look on his face like he knew a secret, “… but nothing about her beautiful friend.”

You huffed out a laugh and turned your head, heat traveling up your neck to your cheeks, “I’m not sure there’s much to know.”

“How about your name?” he suggested.

You turned back to look at him, really look at him.

Had Deborah set him up for this?

You wouldn’t put it past her if she had. She was always urging you to go out with her. To clubs, to parties in The Hills, on double dates. You wanted to go, you really did, but a voice in the back of your head always held you back. You’d thought moving to LA would be the remedy. All alone in a big city would surely help you come out of your shell, right? The harsh reality had been that LA hadn’t magically fixed you. You’d thought you’d be a completely different person here, but you’d packed your insecurities in your baggage. The only person who was gonna help you out of your shell, you’d started to realize… was you.

Putting on a brave face, disguised as a friendly smile, you gave him your name. The man was silent for a moment, nodding as he brought his lips to the rim of his glass again, taking another sip of his drink. It made you hold your breath.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he said eventually with an easy grin. His compliment sent a warmth to your cheeks, while you fought an urge to squinch your face with embarrassment.

After a second of silence, you raised a brave eyebrow at him, “What about your name? Or shall I just call you Tommy’s brother?”

He chuckled lightly, eyes glinting, before he cleared his throat, “Name’s Joel.”

“Joel,” you repeated with a nod, making his cocky smile wider. Tasting his name on your tongue, you decided it sounded pleasant on your lips.

“So– you’re Deb’s friend?” Joel started, to which you confirmed with a nod. “How come she’s never brought you ‘round before?” he wondered with a sip of his drink.

You gave him a relaxed shrug, “I’m not much of a drinker– if I’m honest.”

He leaned forward, like he was about to whisper a secret to you, “You are aware of the fact that you’re in a club, aren’t you?” he teased.

Your mouth dropped open before you playfully rolled your eyes at him, “Shut up,” you said, “I’m not usually much of a drinker… at least not without good reason.”

“So, what’s the good reason?” Joel asked, raising a single eyebrow, “Boyfriend dumped ya?”

“Boss dumped me, actually…” you corrected, “I got fired.”

Joel sucked some air between his teeth, “Ouch… you better get another drink, then.” He turned his body towards the bar to casually raise a hand, getting the attention of Doug.

You let out a scoffing laugh, shaking your head at his teasing tone, “Maybe I will.”

As you finish your Tequila Sunrise, Joel ordered you another one, and one for himself. You felt hot to the touch. The alcohol coursed through your body like liquid courage, it traveled through your bloodstream, greasing the part of yourself where your confidence laid dormant.

“What did you work as?” he asked, sipping his own Tequila Sunrise.

“I am–was…” you corrected, “a personal assistant.”

“A good one?” Joel wondered.

Taking a large sip of your drink, you tried to swallow down your failure.

“You’d have to ask my boss,” you breathed out.

“The one that fired ya?” he returned with a cocky smile, and you fought an urge to roll your eyes.

Sitting up a little straighter you narrowed your eyes at him, “What do you do, then? If you’re so good at your job?”

“Never said I was good at it,” he shrugged, cocky grin not going anywhere.

“You gonna make me ask you again?” you deadpanned, your shyness shedding with every sip of your drink.

Joel looked amused, like he was in on a secret only he knew. You continued to stare at him, raising a challenging eyebrow at his continued silence.

“I’m an actor,” he confessed.

You couldn’t hide the impressed look that crossed your face. Sure, you’d been in LA for three years, he wasn’t the first actor you’d met, and he for sure wouldn’t be the last, but it was something about the way he said it.

“A good one?” you used his own words against him, making him chuckle.

He took another sip of his drink, “I’d like to think so,” he smiled, looking at you over the rim of his glass.

“Anything I’d know?” you wondered, watching him put his glass down.

The corners of his mouth twitched into what looked like an ironic smirk, “God, I kinda of hope not,” he said, eyes trailing the scratches and dents in the dark wood of the bar.

You both went quiet, as you sipped your drinks. You’d started to wonder if you’d maybe said something wrong, when Joel cleared his throat.

“Not to mix business with pleasure–” he started, turning towards you, mouth twitching again at the innuendo, “but I happen to be looking for an assistant.”

“Oh, really?” you deadpanned, convinced he was pulling your leg.

“You don’t believe me?” he breathed out a chuckle.

“Let’s see: a strange man dances with me in a club,” you held up a finger, “then buys me a drink, then offers me a job? I may not be from around here, but I’m not stupid enough to believe that one.” You laughed with a shake of your head.

As you laughed, it hit you how easily you found it to jest with Joel. Usually, you were the quiet one. The one observing or just listening, always too shy to joke freely, especially with people you didn’t know, but somehow, in this moment you felt free. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was getting fired. Or maybe… it was Joel.

“Well, believe it or not, I ain’t fibbin’… it really depends on how much you need a job,” he took another sip of his drink.

“I just got fired,” you said matter of factly.

Joel gave you an infuriatingly innocent shrug, “Then you better start believing me when I say I’m looking for an assistant.”

You couldn’t do anything other than scoff in disbelief. “So what?” you asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow, “You’re just gonna offer me a job after knowing me for barely an hour? No interview or nothing?”

“Do I need to be interviewin’ ya?” he wondered innocently.

“It’s a job!” you spluttered, “You always interview people before you give them a job!”

He gave you a nonchalant shrug. “Then I guess I will… so what can you tell me about yourself? What makes you a good assistant?” he asked, tone genuine as he placed an elbow on the bar counter and rested his head in his hand.

“I don’t mean now!” you let out in a nervous squeak, and Joel seemed to enjoy the way you shifted nervously in your seat.

He shrugged, “Alright then… you got time for coffee? Say… tomorrow mornin’?”

Ten to ten the next morning you met Joel for coffee.

Wanting to give him a good and professional impression – he could be your new employer after all – you’d worn your brown three pieced suit with a purple paisley shirt under your suit vest. It made you feel strong– well usually, right now you couldn’t seem to shake the pre-interview nerves… Anyway, you were hoping your outfit would make Joel think you had your shit together – at least put together enough for him to hire you.

With eyes scanning the café, you found him at a table by the window, smoking a cigarette. When you approached him, heels clicking against the hardwood floor, he checked his watch.

“Ten minutes early!” he remarked with a grin.

“Reliability and punctuality are good qualities in a new employee, I’ve heard.” You shot him a shy smile before you placed your bag on the floor by your chair.

He hummed, watching you with an easy smile as you sat down opposite him while shedding your jacket. The white smoke danced in front of his face like coiling ribbons. Clad in a striped polo with a Johnny collar he’d tucked into a pair of Levi’s jeans, he relaxed in his chair, shifting slightly, and spreading his legs wider. The movement, like a reflex, drew your eyes to his lower half. His Levi’s were tight, held in place by a big western belt buckle, but it wasn’t his belt buckle that caught your attention.

“So…” he started. His voice startled you, and you flicked your eyes back to his face. His playful smile told you he’s caught you checking him out. Embarrassed, you looked past him, not daring to make eye contact as you fought the urge to cringe.

“How are ya?” he took another drag of his cigarette, blowing the smoke out the side of his mouth.

“I’m–I’m good thank you,” you gave him a nervous smile, the confidence from last night gone with the rise of the sun, “how are you?”

“I’m good too, sweetheart,” he nodded, “wanna have this interview…? Or should I just tell you now you’re hired?”

Perplexed, your eyebrows met in a furrow, “What do you mean?”

“Honey, I already decided last night I’d hire you,” he grinned with another drag of his cigarette.

“I–… I mean are you sure?” you stuttered, “I brought my resume and references and everything– don’t you want to take a look at them?” you wondered, a hand dropping to your bag to fish out your newly typed resume and references. You tapped the papers against the table before placing them neatly in front of him.

Retracting your hands, you rested them in your lap, while you watched him. He placed his cigarette in his mouth before he picked up your resume. His eyes scanned the paper, his head nodding slightly.

“Graduated high school in 1970… A year as a cashier at Piggly Wiggly…” he started listing, his cigarette dipping with each word, “A year at Greasy Motors?”.

“Um– yes!” you peeped, “It’s my uncle’s garage shop– I worked as their secretary,” you told him, picking at the skin around your nails.

“You any good with cars?” he asked, one eyebrow raised as he took one last drag of his cigarette.

“No–No not really… I just spoke to the customers, answered the phone and stuff like that.”

You’d wanted to learn some of the basics, but you’d quickly given up. None of the guys had taken you seriously, and they had made sure to let you know where your place was – it was not with your hands deep in an engine.

Joel hummed at your answer and stubbed out his cigarette. “And Mr. Cooper’s the one that fired ya?” he asked.

You gave him a short nod. Your pointer finger burned with pain as you pulled at a piece of skin you’d picked loose around your nail.

“Why?”,

“The honest answer?” you sighed, and he nodded.

“I don’t know,” you told him, “he just called me into his office at the end of the day and told me he was gonna have to let me go– I was honestly too shocked to ask him why.”

“Oof,” Joel frowned.

“Yeah,” you sighed, you didn’t know what else to say.

“Well… you’ve given me a great impression, both last night and right now, so you’ve got the job, sweetheart– if you want it.” He leaned back in his chair, letting your resume fall from his hands.

“It can’t be that easy, can it?” the words fell from your lips before you had time to think. Joel raised a curious eyebrow at you. “I mean what’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch.”

He seemed to think about it for a beat, “Unless there is…” Joel’s lips tugged at the corners as he leaned over the table, “Remember I said I was an actor?” he asked, eyes boring into yours.

You gave him a skeptical nod.

“I’m an adult actor…” he lowered his voice, “You understand?” he asked before he leaned back in his seat again.

An adult actor. Your eyes widened with realization.

“Wait… you mean,” you looked around you before you leaned forward over the table like he’d just done, “you’re a pornstar?” you whispered, feeling your cheeks start to burn with embarrassment.

“Is that a problem for you?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Was it? Was it a problem for you?

The question tugged at the back of your neck. Tugged on your childhood, on your upbringing. You’d escaped; had your own apartment now, made your own money. You were trying to come into your own, to finally be your own person.

With teeth digging into your bottom lip, you looked at Joel. He watched you expectantly, head tipping slightly to the right as he studied you. There was no malice in his eyes, and nothing about him seemed grimy or obscene… Nothing about him screamed pornstar. If someone like him could do something so… unusual, for a job, maybe wasn’t so bad.

“No,” you decided, “it’s not a problem.”

“Groovy!” he grinned, “I’ll have my manager draw up a contract for you.”

And just like that you were officially Joel Miller’s, aka the infamous Joel Packer, personal assistant.

Joel sat on the tiled steps outside his house, smoking a cigarette, when you pulled up to the curb. He perked up when he saw you, grabbing his worn leather duffel bag before he waltzed down his driveway.

“Cab for Miller?” you joked through the rolled down window, ducking your head to peek up at him.

He chuckled at your joke, pinching his cigarette between two fingers for one last drag, before putting it out with a twist of his shoe. The smog laid low over LA this morning, like a blanket. It was gonna be a long day, and a long drive.

Letting out a small grunt, Joel got in your car. The smell of cigarettes and cologne – the smell of him – filled the space between you. He twisted around tossing his duffel bag into the backseat, and your eyes couldn’t help but land on his bicep, watching the way his muscles flexed under the weight. You felt a sudden urge to roll down the window a little further.

When he turned back around, the smooth wood of your steering wheel looked extremely interesting.

“Thanks for drivin’, sweetheart. My car’s still in the shop for ‘nother few days.”

The corner of your mouth twisted into a small smile, “No problem, Joel.”

“Are we all set?” he breathed out his question before his hands landed on his thighs with a dull smack!

“Um, yes, it’s just…” you turned to look at him. He was dressed casually in jeans and a Steely Dan concert tee – All-American Tour ’74 – with his yellow tinted pilot sunglasses tucked into his neckline.

“Just what, sweetheart?”,

“I picked up a package for you– it’s in the backseat,” you cocked your head in the direction.

“What is it?” he twisted back around, one hand searching for the cardboard box behind his seat.

Even in the smoldering LA heat, you couldn’t help but feel your cheeks heat up. “Um… it’s your package.”

“Yeah, I got that, honey– but what is it?” he asked again, twisting his hand back and placing the cardboard box in his lap.

You let out a small whine, “Don’t make me say it Joel– it’s your package.” You gestured a hand over your nether region.

Joel looked at you with a mischievous smile spreading across his face, “Oh, now I really wanna hear you say it,” he teased, hooking his finger under the tape.

“It’syourdick,” you said quickly, “–the dildo.”

In another step towards furthering Joel Packer’s success, he’d been asked to model for a sextoy. It’s no surprise he’d been asked. With the women’s liberation movement gaining more and more followers every day, more women had been exploring their own sexuality. Joel was popular with both men and women. He was like a chameleon when it came to porn. He knew just what to give, whether that would be hardcore porn, tossing his scene partners around and making them come until they couldn’t anymore; or doing full frontal nudity for a centerfold for Playgirl.

With a drag of the tape, Joel laughed, his shoulders shaking. “I can’t believe you’re still shy about that stuff, sweetheart. You’ve been workin’ for me for how long now, huh? And you still can’t say dick to my face– what do you say to my business partners? Wiener?”

“I’m not shy,” you denied rather unconvincingly, making him shoot you an unimpressed look making you flutter. “I don’t know… it’s just different saying it to you!”

“Why?” he asked, pulling out the box with the dildo he’d modeled for.

Your eyes followed his hands, running over the pink packaging, the handsome photo they’d used of him on the front.

“I-I don’t know… it just is.”

A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth as he hummed – not convinced. Instead, he opened the box, pulling out the sextoy. The company had sent him one before they’d hit the shelves at the end of the month. They were being advertised in Playgirl first – to build up the hype. The sextoy looked exactly like him, and at the same time, nothing like him. The size and shape were true to life (8 inches like they’d advertised on the box), but the color was wrong.

“This is so fuckin’ weird,” he laughed, turning it in his hand, “’s this what I look like?”

“The color looks wrong,” you pointed out. He looked over at you for a beat and then back to the sextoy.

“’s a little… plastic-y,” he commented, “and weird lookin’ without the balls…”

He put the dildo back in the box before he handed it to you. You shook your head and turned the car key, “Just put it back in the backseat.”

“No, ‘s not what I meant,” he nudged your arm with the box, “you have it.”

You were glad the car stood still because the shock of his words would’ve made you get in a car accident.

“Why?” you said, a little flustered.

“Exactly what do women do with a dildo, I wonder?” he teased, nudging your arm again.

“No, Joel, that’s just weird– you’re my boss.” You nudged him back before you put the car in drive.

“You prefer the real thing, then?” a teasing lilt still wrapped around his words.

“Shut up,” you huffed, focusing on driving instead.

“I’m just messin’, sweetheart!” he laughed and threw the box messily behind him.

Leaning forward, Joel pushed the play button on your car radio. The cassette deck whirled before a twangy sound of piano filled your car as you started cruising down the road. A few seconds later Joni Mitchell sang the opening lines of the title track ‘Court and Spark’.

“I need you in charge of the map,” you broke the silence between you after a few minutes, “I don’t know where the house is.”

He opened your glove compartment, pulling out your map of California. You focused on the road while he studied the map.

“Looks like we need to get on the 101– it should take about three hours, Ronald said.”

You hummed. Ronald was Joel’s manager. He’d represented Joel for as long as Joel’s been in porn. Ronald was sleazy, and gross, and you tried to only be in his presence when it was absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, for you, Ronald was a good manager, and the reason why Joel Packer was as popular a pornstar as he was.

“When we get to Pismo Beach we’ll just stop and ask around for the address.” Joel said, folding the map.

Usually, Ronald was the one who came along to set with Joel. His reasoning being that there was business to attend to, and that he was supportive of his client, but you knew the real (pervy) reason. You on the other hand had only come along to set a few times. Quick to embarrassment, you’d quickly hid yourself away in Joel’s dressing room, claiming you had work you’d neglected to do.

This time, Ronald couldn’t make it because of scheduling conflicts. Joel was gonna go alone, but then his car had broken down on the 405. He needed a ride, and who else to ask other than the person he paid to help him out. The shoot was taking place at a beach house somewhere in Pismo Beach. You’d never been to Pismo Beach before, and neither had Joel. The booking agent had told you it was nice enough and secluded. Perfect for shooting a porno without bringing too much attention.

Three hours later, you and Joel arrived at the shoot. The beach house was busy and filled with people working like ants to get the film set ready. The shoot was scheduled to last for one day, and as the time flew past 10am, you were starting to get short on time.

As soon as you stepped inside, they ushered Joel straight to make-up and wardrobe. Careful not to be in anybody’s way, you took a look around the house. It was beautiful. Newly built, not more than ten years old you guessed, and right on the beach. Warm wood tones lined the walls and floors, and on the ceilings, sturdy beams met in the middle. A leather couch with matching chairs was turned towards the big floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the beach, and a cowhide rug decorated the floor. They’d set up a step ladder by the windows, all ready for the first scene.

You found Joel a moment later in one of the bedrooms sitting, in a chair as he got his make-up done. You noticed he’d already changed into his costume. A pair of overalls with nothing underneath, and a toolbelt hanging from his hips.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he greeted, his eyes trailing your body.

“Hi,” you smiled, “How you feeling? Can I get you anything?”

He looked at you, a pregnant pause passing between the two of you, “No, not right now.”

“Oh, okay!” you nodded, teeth catching your bottom lip, “Just let me know if there’s anything.”

You moved over to the bed where his clothes were spewed across the bedding. Trying to make yourself useful, you picked them up to fold them.

“D’you know if Tess is ready?” you heard him ask.

Tess was Joel’s scene partner for the day, and also his most frequent scene partner. They’d been in more films together over the past years than you could count, their chemistry always electric. Everything they did was just hot, and this time would be no exception. Tess was playing a neglected housewife all alone in her big beach house until carpenter Joel arrived to help her feel less alone with his tool(s).

“Um, no… I haven’t seen her at all– but I can go find out if you want?” you said, placing his folded t-shirt neatly on the bed.

“No, bless your heart, it’s okay,” he spoke slowly, watching the make-up artist pack up her things before telling him he’s all set.

Left alone with Joel he spoke again, “You gonna watch today?”

His question kicked your heart into gear, stuttering along like a teenager who can’t drive stick. “I-I don’t know yet,” you folded his jeans, “… do you want me to?”

You felt him move closer, but he didn’t answer you. Gathering your courage, you met his eyes. He was watching you with a soft look in his eye, a look he’d sent you more and more often lately.

Grabbing your wrist, his calloused fingers like a warm bracelet, he took his jeans from your hand and placed them down next to his t-shirt.

“I’d like that.”

He said it with a smile, and you couldn’t do anything other than nod.

Joel had started to make you feel lots of things lately. Warm fuzzy feelings bubbled under your skin, just like the warmth from his hand on your wrist right now. Joel was a flirt, cocky and confident. Your complete opposite. You weren’t as shy as you’d been at the start of your job, but you couldn’t help but still be shy around Joel sometimes. Especially when he smiled at you the way he was right now, or when you felt his touch on your body.

The first scene they shot was the intro. A cheesy scene where Joel got invited into Tess the housewife’s home. One too many innuendos about ‘tools’ later, you’d slipped away before lunch time to find the catering table, fixing up a plate for Joel and one for yourself. After lunch, the fun began as the director had said.

“Hey, sweetheart?” Joel’s fingers brushed over the back of your arm, getting your attention. You were about to go sit in his director’s chair, to watch as you’d promised.

“Yeah, Joel?” you looked at him through your lashes, your face curious. You tried very hard to keep them on his face, and not to let them wander to the outline of his hard cock through his overalls.

“Could you go get me some lube?” he asked you, eyes pleading.

“Oh! Um–” you nervously perked up, “Yes, of course,” you nodded, turning around yourself on the spot like you were already on the lookout.

“Thanks!” His hand landed on your shoulder, turning you to focus back on him, fingers rubbed over the material of your shirt. He was smiling at you, a small glint in his eye as he took you in. It made something inside you flutter, your eyes eclipsing over.

“OK guys! Quiet on set!” the director called, pulling you and Joel from your moment. His hand fell from your shoulder, a sorry smile draped across his face.

Slipping away, you went on a hunt for lube. When you came back you were met with the deep grunts of Joel as he got his cock sucked. He was fully naked, standing at the edge of the bed with Tess naked and dutifully on her knees for him – pleasuring him to heaven by the looks of it.

“There you go, baby,” he praised Tess, his big hand entangled in her hair as he pushed himself deeper down her throat. “You like sucking cock, don’t you? Like cheating on your husband like the dirty fuckin’ whore you are, huh?”

You knew he was just reading off his lines, but he said them like he hadn’t practiced at all, it was all so natural. Stumbling backwards towards his director’s chair, you sat down. You felt drawn to the scene before you, caught up in the moment, in the sounds of Joel’s moans and Tess’ spluttering around his cock. Never had you allowed yourself to watch him this openly before – it sent an electric pulse to your core.

Tess gave him head for a few minutes more, filth and praises fell from Joel’s mouth as the cameraman dutifully got every angle. Mesmerized by the scene playing out before you, a small pit started to form in your stomach – a mixture of pleasure and… jealousy. You shifted in the chair at the thought of you on your knees for him instead, pleasuring him and pulling those moans from his lips. Wondering if the praising words he told Tess, would sound different if it was you he told them to instead. You didn’t realize how caught up in the sight in front of you until you heard someone call your name.

It was Joel.

Shaking yourself from your fantasy daydreaming, you pulled yourself together. They’d changed positions while the cameraman changed the film. Joel was now sat on his knees on the bed with his cock standing to attention. On her back, he had Tess’ legs parted and splayed open in front of him.

Why was he talking to you?

He called your name again, figuring you hadn’t heard him over the humming of conversation now filling up the set. You hopped off the chair and nervously scurried over to him.

“What’s up?” you whispered. Your eyes were glued to his face, not daring to glide them even an inch downwards.

He hooked his fingers around your thumb. On his face he was wearing the widest grin, “Could you grab me some water?”

His touch sent your brain into overdrive, your eyes blinking around his question, “Y-yes– I’ll be right back.” His touch fell, and you scurried away to find him some water before they started filming again.

Back, and with a bottle of water in your hand you allowed yourself one quick look at his naked body. His broad chest, the way his muscles moved underneath his tan skin. Your eyes raked over his body, down his stomach, trailing the happy trial down to his impressive cock.

“Okay, everybody– we’re all set!” The loud voice of the director made you jump. Joel handed back the bottled water, a rough hand wiping the corner of his mouth.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

If he’d clocked you checking him out, he didn’t show it. Instead, he got ready while you made your way back to his director’s chair. Tess said something you couldn’t quite catch, but it got his attention. He grinned from ear to ear, a quick look in your direction, before he playfully shook his head at her.

The next scene had you squirming in your seat.

With his head between her legs, Joel used both his mouth and fingers to pleasure her – and Tess was clearly enjoying herself. Her hands were digging into his hair, pushing him greedily down onto her pussy. High pitched, pornographic moans and whimpers escaped her. Joel was clearly enjoying himself too, moaning and groaning into her pussy as he ate her out greedily, making sure to pull every ounce of pleasure from her.

Tess came with a cry, withering breathlessly as she squirmed in Joel’s hold. He held her shaking legs in a tight grip, not letting up his licking and sucking until he’d pulled another orgasm from her. With a breathless laugh she pushed him away, big wide smile spreading as he peppered kisses to the inside of her thigh. You shifted slightly in your seat. An unmistakable wetness had gathered in your panties. You crossed your leg over the other, subtly.

With a tap to her thigh Joel encouraged Tess to turn over. He sat up, resting back on his heels as he stroked his cock languidly. Tess moved onto all fours, arching her back and putting herself on display for him. The camera moved in closer, a watchful eye, as Joel ran a finger through her folds.

“So wet for me, baby,” he said, replacing his fingers with the head of his cock. “This pussy’s been neglected, hasn’t it? ‘s just dying to be fucked.”

He thrusted inside her, burying himself in her pussy, moans and groans falling from both their lips. You felt the air stand still for a beat, before he pulled back and thrusted back inside. They quickly built up a rhythm, skin slap slap slapping, as their moans held the tune. They moved in sync. Joel kept up the pace, hands holding her waist firmly, while Tess met them with a breathy moan. When she gripped the sheets in pleasure, you wondered if it really felt as good as she let on, or if it was all just part of the show.

“Face the camera,” the director interrupted suddenly. He wanted a close up of Tess getting fucked.

Joel slipped out of her, the bright lights catching on his glistening cock. The sight of Tess’ arousal reminded you, and the bottle of lube in your lap, about your insignificancy. Joel quickly slipped back inside Tess, a hand gripping her shoulder as he picked up the pace again.

“Just like that, baby, you feel so fuckin’ good around my cock.”

You felt silly, the reality of what you’d just done settling in. Why on earth would you agree to watch Joel? Pornstar or not, he’s still your boss. Your longing for him to be something else, would never erase that fact.

Disappointment was a heavy rope tying you down. You needed to get out of there before you hurt your own feelings. Sliding out of the chair, you left the bottle of lube. Straightening out your suede skirt, let out a quiet sigh. You didn’t want to look at him, but something drew you to him either way.

You locked eyes immediately, his eyes were dark and intense. He picked up the pace, Tess almost screaming with pleasure underneath him, but his eyes still didn’t leave yours. You couldn’t look away. The world narrowed until the only thing you could see was him.

With a grunt and a firm thrust, Joel came inside her, mouth parted in pleasure and eyes never leaving yours.

Squeezed into a flimsy plastic chair, feet planted steadily in front of him, Joel sat smoking a cigarette by the pool. Ripples of blue swam across his face, before giving way to the soft warmth of the burning cigarette. He looked deep in thought as you got out of your car, a plastic bag of take-out swinging from your hand. You slammed the door shut, jolting Joel from his thoughts. The evening wind softly kissed your bare arms as you walked across the parking lot to the fenced in pool area.

The shoot had run long and by the time it was over, it was late. Joel was tired, and when he’d suggested you stay at a motel for the night, you’d been quick to agree. Watching the darkening sky, you’d started to dread the three-hour drive back to LA – you’d rather wait for daylight.

Situated right off the main road Joel had spotted a Motel 6 with the neon ‘Vacancy’ light humming. With tired steps you’d walked together towards the lobby, and the lady at the desk didn’t look up from her magazine when you and Joel approached. Behind her, coming through the door to the back office, you heard a laugh track.

Joel turned on his southern charm, “’Scuse me, ma’am.”

The receptionist still didn’t look up from her magazine.

“Do y’all have two rooms vacant?”

With a sigh, the woman looked up at him, peering over her glasses. “We only have one Queen left.” She smacked her lips together obnoxiously as she spoke, a piece of gum visible in her teeth.

Joel looked over at you, one eyebrow raised. Crossing your arms over your chest, you didn’t know what to say. If they only had one room, they only had one room. You tapped your foot restlessly, made a face like you were thinking it over before you gave Joel a short but affirmative nod. He watched you for another beat, before he turned back around to say, “We’ll take it.”

The room was nothing much; a queen-sized bed in the middle of the room, two chairs and a table tucked into one corner, and a door leading to a small bathroom. First thing Joel did was find a place to put his bag. You didn’t have a bag, only your handbag, you hadn’t planned on not sleeping in your own bed tonight. Joel, on the other hand, always brought a change of clothes to set. He’d told you once he didn’t like to leave in the same clothes he’d arrived in.

As you closed in on Joel by the pool you realized he was still wearing his clothes from this morning. He’d told you he wanted to shower, so you’d gone out to get you both some dinner to give him some privacy. Now you wondered if he’d even had his shower.

“Hungry?” you asked, putting the plastic bag down on the round table beside him.

He took a deep drag of his cigarette, watching you through a cheeky smile, “Starvin’.”

“The only thing open was the roadside diner, so I’m afraid it’s greasy burgers.”

Joel gave you a shrug as you sat down, “Works for me.”

You ate in silence – sloshing coming from the pool and the cicadas hiding in the bushes, filled the air instead. When Joel finished his burger, and started on his fries, he looked up at you.

“So, what’d you think?” he asked you. You were silent for a second, before you looked down at the burger in your hand.

“Er...” you hesitated, not sure what he wanted you to say, “It’s not bad... meat’s a little dry, but–”

Joel interrupted your train of thought with a deep chuckle.

“I meant the porno, darlin’,” he said, using one of the napkins to wipe the corners of his mouth, “not the burger.” A smile pulled at his lips.

“Oh,” you said, and felt your cheeks fire up in embarrassment. You swallowed, buying yourself some time before you gave him a shrug.

“Was good,” you said, clearing your throat awkwardly, “I’m sure your fans will love it!”

“I wasn’t askin’ about them,” Joel said. His gaze felt like it was piercing through you, “Was askin’ you, wasn’t I? Did you like it?”

Despite the desperate embarrassment firing through your veins, you raised an eyebrow. “You’re asking me about porn over dinner?”

“Fair point,” he said with a nod, “You’re deflecting, though.”

A small chuckle escaped you, a smile tugging on the corner of your mouth as you shook your head and looked away for a second.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked him, looking back at him, “It’s porn, I’m human... of course I liked it.”

Bingo.

You can see from the corners of Joel’s smile that he’s happy with that answer, and he lets out an agreeing hum.

“See?” he said, his tone teasing, “Was that so hard to admit?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you said through a small scoff, pushing your styrofoam container away from you as you fell back in your chair.

“I am–… what was your favorite part?”

He was grinning hard now. He dug a hand in his back pocket, fishing out his packet of cigarettes and his lighter. You watched him with your head tilted, waiting for him to let you off the hook like he usually did. Instead, he grinned even wider, small splutters of breathy giggles making the cigarette dip as he tried to light it.

“Gimmie that!” you commanded, reaching out your hand for his cigarette. With a surprised eyebrow he took a quick drag before he handed it over. He watched you quietly as you took a breath. Savoring the first tar-y breath filling up your lungs.

“I liked the way you…” you took another drag and exhaled through your nose, “I don’t know…” you handed him the cigarette.

“I’m waitin’,” he teased, making you playfully roll your eyes at him.

“Well,” you sighed, “I liked the way you’re so attentive and made sure she’s feeling good even though it’s acting and everything… Even when you’re like throwing her around, all in charge and stuff.” You waved away the words.

“Yeah, well, that is the most important part of sex,” he gave you a look. Suddenly, he was a little serious. “It’s not fun if she’s not havin’ fun.”

“Not every guy thinks like that, you know,” you spoke, “it’s really nice that you do.”

Joel hummed at your words before a comfortable silence fell over you. You listened to the buzzing cicadas and the burning of Joel’s cigarette every time he took a drag.

“And… the dirty talk was hot too– you’re good at that,” you mused after a moment, breaking the silence, feeling comfortable enough with Joel to tell him the truth. He doesn’t judge you about what you think was sexy, and you realized it felt nice to open up to somebody, to let your suffocating shame die.

“Now, darlin’,” you could hear the smile in his voice, “now you’re just strokin’ my ego.”

“I can stroke more than your ego.”

Joel choked on his cigarette, coughing around the smoke before he looked over at you with wide eyes. “Am I goin’ crazy, or did you just tell a dirty joke?”

Your giggle filled the air between you before you leaned forward for his cigarette again. You brought it to your mouth as you impishly shrugged. Inside, you buzzed with a fluttery feeling.

You smiled at him. “I don’t know– you tell me.”

He playfully narrowed his eyes at you, leaning over the table to get a good look at you, “I’m not sure I’m likin’ this… where’s my sweet girl, huh?”

My sweet girl.

Your heart skipped like stones over water, and you had to look away. A smile blooming across your face. You heard him let out a sweet chuckle before he stood from his chair. The plastic feet scraping ever so slightly against the concrete. You watched him as he stepped before you, squatting down to be at eye level with you, his big hand landing on your exposed knee to steady himself.

“She’s still here,” you whispered after a moment. The cigarette between your fingers was burning out, but your whole body felt like it was on fire, a burning spreading from under his touch.

“I know she is, sweetheart,” he whispered back, his fingers rubbing gently over your skin. Joel looked at you with attentive eyes, “I love how shy you get for me.”

Before you had time to process his words, he pinched the cigarette from your fingers and stood to his feet. “Let’s call it a night?” he asked you, offering up his hand for you to take.

Feeling brave, you took his hand. It dwarfed your own, but it was strong, and warm in your hold. You watched as Joel finished off the cigarette, and stumped it out in the ashtray on the table, before gathering up your trash. You walked back to your room, hands intertwined and swinging between you. You couldn’t shake the thought of how you wished he’d kissed you.

Back inside your room he let you use the bathroom first. It was small, and the air was damp. You could see droplets of water clinging to the shower curtain. Joel did shower after all, he’d rinsed the day off into the drain. With no toiletries, you made do with what the motel offered. A bar of soap was sufficient enough to remove your make-up, but you knew your skin would punish you for it later. After brushing your teeth, you stepped back out where Joel waited for you on the bed.

“I’ve got a spare shirt if you wanna borrow it.” He held up his hand, handing you the clean cotton shirt he’d packed.

“Thanks,” you smiled shyly.

He watched you for a beat, his eyes soft, but tired. “And I’ll sleep in one of the chairs– don’t want ya worryin’ about nothin’.”

Shaking your head, you protested, “No, Joel, you’ve had a long day! I’ll sleep in the chair!”

This time he shook his head, a small chuckle escaping his mouth, “No, darlin’, you’re drivin’ tomorrow, remember? You’ll need your rest.”

Your eyebrows met in a furrow. He was right; you couldn’t do the drive back to LA tomorrow on no sleep, but you couldn’t live with yourself if he didn’t get any sleep either.

“Let’s just…” you trailed off, “You’re tired, I’m tired– let’s both sleep in the bed?” you suggested.

Crawling under the sheets clad in only your underwear and Joel’s t-shirt, you wondered if you were being unprofessional. This was technically a work trip. Joel was still your boss. You looked over at him where he sat on the edge with his back turned, fiddling with the alarm clock. Your eyes trailed over his bare back, tan and strong. You knew you could stare at him all night.

It was official: you’d left professional at the door.

Finally, the alarm clock set for tomorrow morning, Joel put it back on the nightstand. With a quick glance over his shoulder, he caught your eyes on his body. It made him smile.

“Joel? Can I ask you something?”

He got under the sheets, his foot grazing against yours as he got comfortable. “Yeah, sweetheart.”

“Can you turn off the light?”

“You needn’t ask me if you can ask me, to turn off the light,” he laughed, “you can just say ‘Joel, turn off the light’.”

You scrunched your face together. This was coming out all wrong. “No, I mean… I don’t think I can ask you my question with the lights still on.”

He looked you over with a warm smile before he leaned over and turned off the light on his nightstand. “There… what you want to ask me?”

Even bathed in darkness, you hesitated to speak. “Um… I guess…” you started, not knowing how to ask what you wanted to ask. You turned over on your back and stared at the ceiling, cursing the return of your shyness.

Joel waited for you patiently to gather your courage.

“How much… of porn, is fake?” you finally uttered.

Joel turned to his side, facing you, “What do you mean?”

“Like… when– when the girls…” You couldn’t say it.

“Come?”, he helped.

“Yeah,” you breathed out, “is that real or… like– do they actually like it?”

“Right…”

Joel thought about your question, “’s hard to say… I mean mostly it’s real– at least in my experience– like I can feel it around my cock or fingers… but everybody has off days, and not everybody can come from penetration.”

Mostly it’s real. You went quiet, silently thinking about his answer as you stared a hole in the ceiling. Not everybody can come from penetration.

“Why you askin’ me this, sweetheart?” He shifted a little closer.

You pulled your hands from under the sheets, resting them over your chest. Your thumb on your right hand found your thumb on the left where it picked at the skin.

“Huh?”

“I– I don’t know… it’s silly.”

“No, ‘s not– you’re not silly, sweetheart.” He shifted a little closer, a reassuring hand falling over your own and stopping you from picking at your fingers.

You didn’t say anything, and you didn’t look at him either. You felt silly. You’d just complimented him earlier about how attentive he comes across in bed, and now you’re asking him if any of it was even real.

“Can I ask you somethin’?” Joel asked, breaking the silence between you.

Nodding your head, you hummed.

“Are you a virgin?”

His question almost made you jump. Suddenly, his previously calming hands over yours felt heavy. A fire started in your cheeks. You were mortified, and it felt crazy. If you were back home right now, you’d be mortified to tell anyone you weren’t a virgin seeing as you were unmarried. Now, with Joel, you felt mortified he thought you were one.

“No,” you peeped. It would’ve sounded like a lie if it wasn’t the truth. “W-what makes you say that?” You finally looked at him, your eyes wide as saucers.

Unconvinced, he gave you a lopsided smile, “How many have you slept with?”

“How many have you slept with?” you mumbled.

“Honey, we both know that I’ve slept with way too many to count.” He said it with a teasing lilt to his voice, and a comforting rub of his thumb over the back of your hand. His small touch was enough to relax you, to bring you back from the ledge of mortification. This was Joel for god’s sake. He would never judge you; you knew that.

“One…” you whispered, “Only one person.”

With a hum, Joel shifted over to lay on his back, but his thumb still rubbed circles over your skin. “So– you’re asking me this ‘cause it was bad?” he mused.

“I don’t know… maybe,” you whispered.

“You don’t know if it was bad– or you don’t know why you’re askin’ me if women enjoy sex?”

“The latter,”

“So, it was bad,” he concluded, before he whispered, mostly to himself.

The silence was back, speaking loudly between the two of you as you both processed what the other had just said. After a beat Joel turned back on his side to face you again.

“Tell me– how bad was it?” He said it softly, a tenderness in his voice you hadn’t heard before.

“It just… it hurt.”

You sighed, and for the first time since the light went out you turned your head to look at him. “John–” your face scrunched up in a grimace as you spoke his name, like you couldn’t believe you were telling him this story. “He worked in accounting, and we were going around, you know? Went on a few dates. He was a sweet guy. After the third date we went back to his place, for a drink. He kissed me– and then we were making out, and during everything I just thought ‘This might as well happen’. I thought I wanted to lose my virginity… and I liked John– so why not. But then he just… pulled off my underwear, didn’t even touch me and… went to town.”

Joel sucked a breath through his teeth, his hand gripping yours a little tighter. “Did you– have you ever had an orgasm?”

You shifted uncomfortably under his question and turned your head back towards the ceiling again. “Yes,” you whispered.

Joel moved a little closer, and you felt your body dip towards him from his weight against the mattress. His hand resting over yours traveled down your arm, and under the sheet.

“By your own hand then,” he said it more like a statement than a question.

You felt your heart beat out of your chest, as something in the air between you shifted. Underneath the covers your body burned. Sucking in a breath, you held it for a moment before you nodded.

“Show me.”

His hand grazed over your waist, fingers dancing over the exposed skin between the hem of his t-shirt and the waistband of your panties. You reveled in it, his touch, his proximity, his gentle kiss to your shoulder. You looked at him, searched his face for any indication that he was just messing with you.

“No? Ain’t feelin’ it?” He’d watched you too, you realized.

He withdrew his hand from your waist, and you panicked, “No!”

He stopped, instead hovering his hand over your body. “No, you ain’t feelin’ it, or no, don’t stop?” he asked you.

You panicked again. “Yes!” you said before your eyebrows met in a furrow, “I-I’m sorry, this isn’t very sexy.”

Joel withdrew his hand from your body, and your disappointment sank like a rock in water, but then he cupped your jaw and you forgot to breathe.

“Forget about sexy, sweetheart,” he told you, a calloused thumb rubbing against your skin, “not that you ain’t sexy– you are, but I need you to relax, okay?”

You nodded, and a smile spread wide across his face,

“Good girl.”

You almost mewled at the praise, and he noticed, a wicked smile spreading across his face.

“You liked that, huh?” he teased, rubbing his thumb softly over your lower lip, “Y’like being a good girl for me?”

You found it hard to think with him so close, breathless when he touched you like this. You nodded slowly; moony eyes fixated on him. Like a reflex, your legs rubbed together under the sheets, aching to relieve the pressure building.

“You’re so sweet, baby– and shy,” his voice was low, like he was afraid someone would hear him. Slowly he leaned closer, pressing the softest kiss to your neck. A quiet whimper fell from your lips.

You felt Joel’s smile against your skin, teeth nipping as he pressed kiss after kiss to your sensitive skin. “You make my cock so fuckin’ hard.”

“Joel,” you finally choked out, a wet patch already soiling your panties.

“Yes?” he took your earlobe in his mouth, gently biting down on it before letting it go. You couldn’t think – at least not about something that wasn’t Joel and his touch.

“P-please kiss me?” you tried, your hand landing on his shoulder.

His breath puffed against your skin in a small chuckle, before he lifted his face from his new home in the crook of your neck. He found your blown out face, watching you with a tenderness in his eye. A beat passed and then he leaned closer, brushing his lips over yours. Your hand on his shoulder followed his neck to cup his face, keeping him close to you. His hand pushed gently at the sheets, revealing your upper body to him. The kiss was tender and slow, your noses pressed together. He pulled you apart and then put you together again. One of his hands trailed along the hem of your – his – t-shirt where he pushed at the fabric, bunching it just below your breasts. You broke apart.

“Was that all you wanted, sweet girl? Just a kiss?” His forehead touched your own, words low and taunting. You slowly shook your head, eyes still locked with Joel’s. His hand moved methodically, trailing down your stomach until it reached…

Your breath hitched in your throat.

“No?” he asked with a teasing grin, “What do you want then, sweetheart?”.

He already knew. His open palm cupped you over your soaked panties, the breadth of it pressing firmly down on your clit. You mewled under him, hips bucking up to meet his hand.

“Nah-ah,” he lifted his head from your forehead, dark eyes boring into yours. “You need to show me.”

Joel had started a dangerous fire inside of you. It lapped at your insides, burned away your insecurities, and replaced them with lust. With a shaky hand, your hand found Joel’s. His eyes were still locked on you – his gaze burning your cheek and branding you his.

“There you go,” he praised, letting you guide his hand up and down your clothed cunt, feeling your arousal seep through the fabric, “good girl.”

You guided him to your clit, pressing the pads of his finger down on it in tight circles. You were so sensitive – on edge since you watched him filming earlier – a small moan fell from your lips.

“Feels good doesn’t it, baby, getting your clit rubbed.”

“Yes…” Joel drew another moan from you.

Your grip around his hand loosened, and Joel took over. With a practiced hand he circled his fingers just right. He started with a steady pace and tight circles, before he put more pressure on your aching bud. He was bringing you closer and closer to the edge, coaxing small whimpers and breathy moans from your lips as you got more and more lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

“Have you ever fingered yourself, sweetheart?” he asked you, dipping his hand beneath your panties. A bold finger ran through your folds, a finger teasing at your entrance.

Your front teeth caught your lower lip, and you had to bite down to suppress a moan. It was hard to concentrate on what he was asking you when he was touching you like that.

“Y-yes, but…” you trailed off, feeling his finger, now coated in your arousal, back on your clit. It made your brain go blank.

“But what, sweet girl?” he pulled his hand from your panties, and you whined.

A wet trail followed him up your stomach. When you made no move to answer, a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. Leaning closer he pressed a short but tender kiss to your lips; his mustache tickled your cupid’s bow.

“It’s too messy,” you said when he pulled back, shaking your head.

“Yeah? You’ve got a messy pussy, sweetheart?”

Joel leaned down again, pressing soft fluttering kisses down your throat. When he reached the collar of your shirt, he pulled at the fabric, exposing your collarbone to his kisses. Your hands found his hair, tethering you to the moment.

“Yes,” you whispered, heat burning your cheeks at the confession he pulled from you.

With a wide grin, Joel sat up. His fingers found the hem of your shirt. He helped you pull it over your head, exposing your naked chest to him. Not even a second later he was back to kissing his way down your body, worshiping you with every press. You burned under him, every kiss like a small death.

Shifting on the bed, he settled between your legs. His mustache tickled the skin on your tummy, making you giggle. You felt Joel’s smile against your skin, at the sound of your fluttering laugh. He let his lips brush over your skin, trailing downwards to the top of your panties where he pressed a kiss, teeth pulling at the small bow like you were a present to be unwrapped, before his fingers hooked around the elastic. With a lift of your hips, you let him pull off your panties. The wet spot in the center clung to your cunt, as he peeled them off.

“Fuck,” he cursed, “wanna taste you, baby, wanna taste that messy pussy.”

With his fingers back on your cunt, you jumped a little under his touch. The air filled with a slick sound of your arousal as he ran them through your folds, a finger teasing your entrance.

“Relax for me baby,” he soothed, gently pressing kisses to the soft skin of your inner thigh, “I’ll take care of you.”

Looking down at him between your legs, you let yourself go. His eyes bored into yours. Warmth and lust, and nothing but affection behind them.

You nodded, “Please.”

A wide grin blossomed across Joel’s face as he leaned down, hovering just above your clit. He ducked forward, pressing the softest kiss to your clit, taking it slow and easing you into it with slow licks. You couldn’t help the whimpers escaping you, a needy sound desperate for more – more Joel. He pinned you down with his arm splayed over your tummy, keeping you right where he wanted you, turning you into a withering moaning mess under him.

Joel continued exploring you with his tongue. Changing between flicking and lapping at your clit, circling it just right, and wrapping his lips around it, giving it gentle sucks. He lapped at your folds, the hook of his nose catching on your clit as he tasted you properly. You felt yourself pushed closer and closer towards the edge, coxed by Joel.

Two careful fingers spread you apart, gliding up and down, coated in your arousal. He easily found your entrance to push a finger carefully inside. You felt yourself clench down on him; you couldn’t help it. You were so sensitive and so close. Dropping your mouth open, a breathy moan escaped.

“Oh, fuck,”

Joel hummed against your pussy, the vibrations traveling straight to the coil tightening in your tummy. Slowly, he started thrusting his finger inside, rewarded by a slick sound, telling him just how wet and desperate you were for him. With a moan your head rolled back into the pillow – you were so close.

“Joel,” you panted.

His tongue continued his assault on your clit, and you lost yourself in him. You clamped down on his finger with every thrust. You didn’t know how much longer you could take it. Joel was so focused on you, so attentive, so responsive. Between your legs he drank in every twist of pleasure and whimpering moan.

“Joel,” you panted again.

“You’re gonna come for me aren’t you, sweetheart? Be a good girl and make a mess on my face.” he coaxed.

Joel quickly withdrew his finger to slip in another, and the new stretch had your legs shaking. His tongue circled your clit, sucking it with just the right amount of pressure. Underneath him you squirmed, breathy moans hitching in your throat.

“Oh, god,”

You couldn’t answer him. Couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t take it anymore.

With a silent cry, you came. His strong arm over your tummy held you down, as you twitched against the mattress, legs shaking. You’d never felt anything like this before. A pleasure so all-consuming you couldn’t remember your name, or where you were – only Joel. He helped you through it. His fingers kept up their pace, pads brushing right up against that spot of bliss, as you clenched down hard around them. You gripped the sheets, desperate for a lifeline as you came down.

Joel slowed down his fingers, pressing soft kisses to your clit. Your pleasure turning to overstimulation – now you definitely couldn’t take it anymore. Fragile and sensitive, you pushed him away with a shaky hand.

He let you push him around, his lips finding the inside of your thighs instead, where his mustache teased the sensitive skin. With one last kiss, Joel pulled away. You almost didn’t register the dip in the mattress as he laid down beside you. You were somewhere else entirely, floating away on a post-orgasm-cloud.

“Joel, shit, I…” you tried to speak, your voice hoarse with exhaustion.

“I know, sweetheart,” Joel answered. He pulled you closer, wrapping a hand around you. Slowly, you turned to your side, engulfed in Joel’s embrace.

“D-did you want to–”

You could feel the presence of his hard clothed cock pressed against your ass, but his big safe arms around you told you a different story. He nosed at the back of your neck, pressing fluttering kisses to the skin, making goosebumps erupt.

“No, darlin’, not tonight,” his voice was just above a whisper, the bass vibrating against your ear.

“Are you sure? I-I mean– we can if you want to,” you spluttered. He’d just given you the best orgasm in your life, he shouldn’t have to go to bed without one for himself.

“Not tonight,” he said, pressing a kiss behind your ear, “It’s been a long day– I’m tired, you’re tired… let’s just sleep, my sweet girl.”

“S-should we talk about this?” you asked, your hand slipping into his, pressing it against your naked chest.

“In the mornin’,” he hummed, voice coated in sleep.

With heavy eyelids, you fell asleep in Joel’s arms. The safety of being wrapped up in him, lulled you into a peaceful slumber. The motel bed was hard and uncomfortable, and the pillow thin and flimsy, but it didn’t matter in Joel’s arms.

Morning came too quickly, and with a screeching sound of an alarm clock that pulled you from heaven. Jolting awake behind you, Joel groaned. His hands slipped from your body; the warmth exchanged with prickling goosebumps. You shifted over on your back, watching as Joel turned off the alarm. The beeping stopped, and with a tired grunt Joel laid down back beside you. When he looked at you – his tired eyes glinting – a sleepy smile pulled at his lips.

“Mornin’,”

“Good morning, Joel” you smiled back.

“It is a good mornin’, isn’t it?” he hummed, turning on his side.

You mirrored him, shifting closer and resting your head on his pillow. He snaked a hand over the dip in your waist, big hand splaying over your naked back.

“It is,” you agreed, locking eyes with him.

Rubbing in slow circles, his hand on your back was soothing. You reveled in it, reveled in Joel, in the bliss of being so close to him. You shifted even closer, resting your forehead to his chest.

“You should probably fire me,” you mumbled into his skin, “I’ve been extremely unprofessional.”

A chuckle came from deep inside Joel, it vibrated through his skin, where you felt it under your fingertips.

“I ain’t firin’ my best employee,” he laughed, placing a dry kiss to the top of your head.

You pulled away with a frown, head back on your own pillow. “This is like the cliché of clichés, Joel– sleeping with your assistant…”

In the bright light of the day, you cursed yourself for your late-night moment of weakness. You’ve never done anything like this before. What if this will be all that Joel wants from you from now on? You don’t think your heart could take it if it was.

Joel’s laugh died in his throat, his eyebrows meeting in a frown. “Who said anything about sleepin’ with my assistant?”

Your eyes widened with mortification. Shit. A hand came up to rub at your face, as you sat up, pulling the sheets around you.

“Hey, no, sweetheart,” Joel grabbed at your hand, stopping you in your tracks.

You couldn’t look at him – afraid tears would push behind your eyes. He’s a pornstar, what were you thinking? You were just a girl. A girl to warm his bed for a night. How could you put your job on the line for something like this?

The sheets rustled as he shifted closer, “Please, lay down, I need to talk to you.”

“Joel, I-I’m sorry– w-we can just forget about it– I’ll quit, don’t worry about it– me, don’t worry about me,” you stuttered out, your back still turned.

“I ain’t forgettin’ about nothin’, sweetheart– shit, d’you think I do this often?”

His question made you turn around. He was propped up on his elbow, carefully watching you.

You nodded, and he sighed.

“It’s been years since I’ve slept with someone outside of work,” he confessed, “Shit, I don’t even seek it out, I ain’t interested in it.”

“I-I’m sorry Joel, I–” you started, but he cut you off,

“You’re not listenin’,” he shook his head, “what I’m sayin’ is: I wanna sleep with you.”

Your face scrunched up in a confused frown, “Because I’m someone from work?”

Joel let out a breathless chuckle, “No, sweetheart, ‘s because I think you’re beautiful.”

His words almost didn’t register.

“What?”

This time his laugh is loud and golden, coated in happiness. He pulled at your hand, and you fell, your back hitting the sheets.

“You are…” he emphasized, cupping your cheek, and guiding you back in his embrace. “And you’re a shy little thing, aren’t you? But so smart, and kind, and caring– someone you can’t help but fall in love with.”

“Fall in love with?” you repeated, you couldn’t believe what he was telling you.

“Yeah, sweet girl,” he smiled at you, all teeth, and crinkles around his eyes in the morning light.

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” he laughed, guiding your face closer to his, his lips brushing over yours, “wanna make you mine, sweetheart.”

His kiss stole your breath and twisted you up inside. He licked at the seam, and you opened yourself to him. He licked into your mouth, one arm snaked around your body, drawing you closer, pulling whine after desperate whine from you and stealing your breath.

Landing on your hip, his hand traveled downwards – over the thick of your thigh, and down the inside in smooth motions. He tugged on your leg, pulling it to rest over his hip, his hard cock rutting into your bare heat. His kiss got more desperate; his tongue melded with yours. It was hot, and dizzying and all-consuming all at the same time.

You grinded against him, feeling his hard cock against you. The fabric of his underwear caught on your clit, rubbing it just right, your arousal darkening the fabric. You moaned into his mouth, a desperate need for Joel building deep in your stomach.

With a rut of his hips, he broke away from your kiss. “You want me to fill up this perfect little pussy, don’t you baby?” His hand on your cheek disappeared between your bodies.

“Yes,” you tried to say, but the words got stuck in your throat when you felt the head of Joel’s cock rub up and down your folds. Your heavy breathing, the slick sound of your arousal the only sound in the room.

“Listen’ baby, y’hear how wet you are for me?” he whispered in awe, the head of his cock caught on your clit. You braced yourself with a hand to his shoulder, breathy pants the only sounds leaving your lips.

“You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” he chuckled. He let go of the grip around his cock, the sound of it slapping against his stomach obscene. A beat later he swiped his fingers through your folds, coating them in your arousal before drawing tight circles to your clit.

Your face squeezed shut in pleasure, your fingers dug into his shoulder. He eased a finger inside, before he quickly pulled out and added another. The stretch of his fingers was easy, your arousal dripping over his knuckles as he thrusted them inside with ease.

You grinded down on his hand, meeting his thrusts, forcing his fingers deeper inside. Always so attentive, Joel curled his fingers where they hit your spot perfectly, just like he’d done last night. A breathy squeal fell from your lips.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let me hear you,” he egged you on.

“Joel, please,” you panted. Sparks traveled through your body, collecting in a pit in your stomach where it coiled in on itself, aching for release.

He curled his fingers again, and hit your spot – his palm snug against your throbbing clit, “Fuckin’ perfect you are, darlin’, so tight and wet around my fingers.”

“Shit,”

He pushed you straight for the edge, your walls fluttered around his fingers. Your panting got heavier, your eyes squeezed shut, you’re so close. Joel chuckled, his breath puffing your face and he… pulled away.

You whined at the emptiness, opening your eyes to see him staring at you with a mischievous glint in his eye.

He cupped your jaw, “Poor baby,” he pouted before he pulled you in for a kiss. You sighed into him, desperate to feel him anyway he wanted.

“Turn around,” he ordered against your lips, his hand letting go of your jaw to tap at the top of your hip.

You did as he told you, turning around in his hold to press your ass against him, feeling his hard cock pressed against you. Behind you, you heard him let out a deep and guttural groan. His hand hooked under your thigh, lifting it to your chest and exposing your wet and desperate cunt for him. You let him manhandle you into the position he wants, trusting him to know what’ll feel the best.

He guided the tip of his cock through your soaked folds coating it in your arousal before grazing it over your throbbing clit.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he whispered in your ear, like a hiss. He lined himself up with your entrance, teasing you, and himself.

“I-I need it, Joel, please,” you begged, a hand clinging to the sheets.

“Yeah? You need it, sweetheart? Need this big cock to fill you up?” he asked, pushing just the tip inside.

“Joel, please, please,” you whimpered, almost a squeak. In one fluid motion he pushed inside, burying himself to the hilt inside you. The stretch of him was overwhelming, but the angle had you seeing stars.

“Ah– fuck,” you cried, your eyes immediately squeezing shut. Your hand searched for his where it held your leg to your chest. You needed to anchor yourself to him, afraid you’d fall apart right there and then.

“You alright sweetheart?” you heard him whisper in your ear, and you nodded slightly, “Feel good?”

“Yes, Joel,” you whimpered, mouth dipping open in pleasure.

Behind you he groaned into your ear, cursing in hushed whispers. “That’s it, good fuckin’ girl, takin’ all that cock inside,” he pulled out nearly all the way, taking his time with it, moving with practiced motions.

“Shit,” you mewled as he bottomed out inside for the second time. Grinding against your ass, he pushed himself as deep as he possible could – you felt him in your fucking stomach, he was so deep.

“You can take it, sweetheart,” he told you, pulling out and thrusting back inside.

Picking up the pace, Joel started fucking into you deep and hard. With each grind of his hips against your ass, with every thrust, he made sure to bury his thick cock as deep inside as he could, angling his cock expertly so the head rubbed up against your spot. Behind you he grunted and moaned in your ear. It was sweaty and hot, and sticky between your legs.

He let go of your leg, ordering you to press it to your chest, as his hand traveled downwards to brush his fingers over your throbbing clit.

“Joel,” you mewled. He pulled a symphony of whimpers and moans from you with every thrust.

“This pussy’s so fuckin’ tight– shit,” he panted in your ear, “You’re so good for me baby, takin’ that cock so well.”

His fingers pressed down on your clit, drawing tight circles, pushing you towards the edge of bliss. You squirmed against him, hips meeting his with every thrust as you start to chase your fast approaching orgasm.

“Need you to come for me, sweetheart– squeeze that cock like a good girl.”

“Joel,” you cried and let go. Your walls fluttered around his cock as you came, back arching off his chest, as your body squirmed and shook in his arms. Breathy gasps and pathetic whimpers left your lips as he kept up his unrelenting pace, fucking you through it, and prolonging your high.

You were far away. Blissed and fucked out as you came down from your moment of ecstasy. Behind you Joel’s grunts bordered on desperate, as his thrusts started to become sloppy.

“Shit, sweetheart– m’close, so fuckin’ close.”

“Come for me Joel,” you pleaded.

“Fuck,” he grunted as he pulled out.

His hand was on you in an instance, pushing you to your stomach as he turned you around. He knelt over you, fisting his cock desperately. Turning your head, you pushed off the bed to look over your shoulder where you found his eyes, locking them with his. Joel came with a guttural moan, the muscles in his stomach tightening and loosening as he coated your ass in his cum. It was hot and sticky on your back, feeling it drip slowly down the side of your waist.

“God damn,” he breathed out through a chuckle. His breath was heavy, like he’d just climbed ten stories.

You turned to your side to look up at him properly. He looked beautiful; his hair messy from sleep, broad chest heaving, a content smile pulling at his lips as you gave him a smile.

“Took the words straight out of my mouth.”

i hope you liked this! part two -> here

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller fanfic #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #dom!joel miller #the last of us smut #tlou smut #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #pedro pascal #inexperienced!reader #70s AU

4K notes · View notes

prodbyton · 7 months

Text

into you ☆ l.at

lee anton x fem reader

your mom and her best friend set you up with your old friend from childhood, and you two pretend to date in order to keep them happy. but what happens when feelings start to brew, and the past gets revealed?

college!au, fake dating, ex friends to semi friends to lovers, slowburn, mutual pining, fluff, a bit of angst, smut 18+ MDNI, anton is a self sabotaging idiot.

🎀 cw. smut (ofc), dom!anton, fingering, not really a size kink but anton's size is mentioned a few times, overstimulation, unprotected sex (pls wrap it up,,) creampie, little bit of dry humping, cum eating

⭐️ wc. 15.7k

🎧 into you . tamia • sycamore girl . rex orange county

"i feel like it's so humiliating having my mom set me up on a date." you hold the phone in between your cheek and your shoulder, trying your best to find a good enough outfit.

your best friend, sky, was your emotional support through this whole situation. "it's kind of cute though, like she's looking out for you in a way" she says over the speaker, and you roll your eyes at her comment.

"right, because nothing is cuter than your mom saying 'you're so lonely i'm going to take matters into my own hands'," a hard sigh leaves your lips.

"well when you put it that way, i guess you're right. but this could be nice! what if he's nice, what if he's hot-"

"please, i don't really have a lot of hope in whatever nice guy has picked out"

speaking of the nice guy, you heard the doorbell ring and you sigh again knowing that the next few hours you could be spending rotting in bed, you will now be spending with a mystery man who's probably some secret asshole that's masked as an angel by your mother.

you get off the phone with sky and make your way downstairs towards the door, slipping your shoes and sweater on. you look to your side and see your mom walking down the hall with a bright smile on her face. as you open the door, you see someone you never expected to see.

lee anton.

he has this near fake smile on his face when the door opens, making eye contact with you and then smiling at your mom who was behind you.

"hi y/n, hi mrs.l/n" he starts and you have to fight your eyes from rolling so hard. why was he here? surely he wasn’t… no. no way

"hello anton, you look so handsome, come in, come in!" your mom now is pushing you to the side to drag the boy into the house.

"now y/n, i didn't tell you before because i wanted to make sure you wouldn't freak out, but anton here is your date!"

and that's when a piece of your soul died.

"excuse me?" you try your absolute hardest to not yell, but the confusion and slight anger is building up.

ever since you were little, your mom and antons mom always wished that you two would end up together. you two were friends up until high school, but with new friend groups and new interests the two of you went down different paths. it happens and there weren't really any hard feelings, at least until he started completely ignoring your existence. you didn't hate him, but you were not pleased with his past behavior. and you definitely were not pleased right now.

"don't be rude y/n, this is a great thing! you're a beautiful girl, and anton is a handsome boy. you two have known each other since you were kids and you both go to the same university! it's a perfect match. now you two hurry up and go so you don't miss the reservation i made. have fun" she shoves you two out of the door before you could protest any further and anton is saying goodbye to your mom in his fake sweet voice he's always used with her.

if only she knew that you two haven't spoken since junior year of high school.

you fold your arms across your chest while you walk towards antons car, him rushing to catch up to you so he could open the door.

"how nice of you" you taunted, giving him a fake smile before stepping into the passenger's seat of his car. he gives you that same fake smile before closing the door, not saying a word to you. he walks around the car and gets in, putting on his seatbelt and starting the car.

"you want aux?" he finally speaks, pressing the bluetooth options on his car to connect your phone if you'd like. you happily oblige, not wanting to listen to whatever he wants to put on. even if you two had very similar taste in music, you would always argue that your taste is better. once you press shuffle on your main playlist, he pulls his car out of your driveway and starts the drive to the restaurant your mother picked out for you.

you shift in the seat so you're leaning towards the window, and you open your messages to text your friend sky about the insane situation you were in,

you: oh my fucking god you: its anton you: lee fucking anton!! my mom is sick sky: omg you two haven't talked since highschool! sky: please don't kill him you: no promises sky: maybe you two will fall in love now you: over my dead body sky: if you are gonna be in the same space as him for the next few hours, maybe ask him to put me on with wonbin you: do not use my pain and suffering as a way to get dick sky: i'm trying to find ways for us both to benefit from this! sky: i shouldn't have to suffer because you don't want to talk to anton sky: plus anton is hot! as fuck! i say give it a shot, and if it works out then i can have a shot at his sexy friend you: you are evil sky: update me later babes

aside from the music playing in the car, the ride to the restaurant was silent. anton wanted to talk, but he just couldn't find the right words to say. not like you would want to listen to anything he'd say anyways. but it was just for the car ride, he told himself he'd talk once you two were seated.

pulling into the parking lot, anton parks the car and turns off the ignition. he got out of the car and did a slight speed walk so he could open your door to let you out, and this time the smile was genuine as you got out of the car.

he's not an asshole, you think. i guess i could try and make the most of this date.

he was never an asshole to you, even throughout the years you haven't spoken. of course, avoiding you and acting like you don't exist at events could be taken as being an asshole, but it's not bad compared to the way you've been treated by other men. he's always been a sweet, well-mannered, soft spoken boy.

you two weren't best friends back then, but it still hurt when the two of you drifted apart.

as you two walk into the restaurant, anton talks to the host about the reservation your mother made and you two get seated at a nice booth near the back.

"so, did you know about this? like, did you know that i was the person you were getting set up with?" you start, not looking at him but looking at the menu to get a feel of what you'd want once the waiter comes around to ask for drinks.

"well not at first, but my mom kept hinting at things that traced back to you. wasn't surprised though, they've been trying to set us up since we were in elementary school." he says it almost with no emotion, and you react with a small laugh that makes him smile.

"what kinds of things did she say?" you're intrigued once you really process what he said.

"well" he starts, and you lean into the table with interest. "it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. she was just like 'you should come to visit this weekend, there's a girl i think you would really hit it off with. you actually know her and you two would make a great couple blah blah blah.' things she's already said to me before trying to set me and you up. your mom really didn't give you any hints about today?" it was his turn now to be intrigued, remembering how shocked you were to see him at the door earlier.

"i had no idea. i was scared she was setting me up with some ugly asshole that she would think i would like, when she really has no idea what my type is. she just told me to come for the weekend and was like 'oh he's a sweetheart you're going to love him!' and that was that." you mock your moms swooning voice and anton laughs.

the next hour and a half at the restaurant went well, you two were able to break the awkwardness and catch up from the past years. it felt good honestly. the relief of getting a friend back was always the best feeling.

once you two finished eating, the waiter came around to hand you guys the bill. you figured you two would just split it, this was technically a date but you didn't really think of it that way. and you didn't want anton spending his money on you, you both were forced on this 'date' and it wouldn't be fair in your eyes for him to pay for you. you quickly turn to grab your wallet out of your purse, but once you get your card out the waiter is already walking away with antons card.

"dude, you didn't have to do that!" you whisper yell at him, and he just chuckles.

"don't worry about it. date or not, if you pulled your card out it would look like i was some broke asshole trying to split the bill" he says in his soft voice and you nod, understanding where he was coming from.

the waiter comes back around with antons card, and you guys make your way out of the restaurant and back to his car. he opens the door for you again, you step in and make yourself comfortable this time, adjusting the seat to your liking.

the ride to your house was silent, but it was a comfortable silence. you didn't really know what this meant for the two of you. were you guys friends again? was this really a date and there were more in the foreseeable future? was this just a one time thing?

to be completely honest you didn't want to date anton. not that he wasn't attractive, you would be living a lie if you said he wasn't. he was definitely one of the most attractive guys you've ever seen, but it would just be weird to date him. you guys were friends and it was still a semi-mystery on where you two stand in terms of friendship. and did you really want to date someone your mom set you up with? you're still in college and honestly you don't know what exactly you want yet.

"so um, i'll walk you to the door" suddenly the quiet was awkward again as he got out of the car to let you out and walk you to the front door. and now here you two were, standing awkwardly in front of the door both trying to think of something to say.

why was it so weird now? you were both fine holding a conversation not even an hour ago.

"sorry that our moms pushed us into doing this, but it was nice to uh- it was nice to talk to you again" anton puts his hands in his jean pockets and looks down at you with a sheepish smile, and you look up at him and smile back.

"yeah, it was nice seeing you. you're not gonna go ghost on me again after this are you? cus i know where you live, and i'll tell your mom" you threaten him, and he puts his hands up in defense. if there's one thing you remember about your friendship with anton, it was that his mom did not play about you. if even a scratch got on you when you and anton were together, he would get an earful about being too reckless. even if you were the reckless one

"there's no need for all of that! i won't go ghost on you, it's nice to get a friend back"

"well then, i'll see you on campus?" you look up at him, and he nods.

"see you on campus"

and with that, you put your keys into the door and make your way into the house, giving anton a small wave goodbye before closing the door and taking off your shoes. as you make your way through the house and pass the living room, you see your mother sitting on the couch with a smile so wide her face probably hurts.

"next time you ask me to come home for the weekend to go on a date, i'm blocking your number" you joke, and she rolls her eyes before getting up and walking towards you excitedly.

"how did it go? isn't he just the sweetest boy? are you guys going out on another date? did you kiss?" she wiggles her eyebrows and you nearly gag.

"mom! oh my gosh, no i did not kiss anton! what kind of girl do you think i am? i don't kiss on the first date" she lets out a small pfft at your response.

"so you’re saying there's a second date?" the tone in her voice is teasing and expectant, and you shut her down again.

"that's not what i meant... and i wouldn't even call that a date. we had a nice time though"

"i think you should give him a chance y/n" her hands run up both your arms, giving them a small squeeze when she reaches your shoulders. she gives you a look that almost makes you want to give into her, but you have to stand on your own words.

"i think that, i'm going to go upstairs and go to sleep and forget today happened"

the next day you're making your way back to campus, leaving earlier in the day so you can hang out with sky before she's too tired to listen to your rambling.

"i can't believe you didn't text or call me last night to give me all the juicy details about your date with anton!" sky whines, plopping next to you on the couch with a frown on her face.

"it was not a date, and i wanted to tell you in person that's why i didn't tell you anything! you should be thanking me for being such a thoughtful and considerate friend"

"yeah yeah, now let's hear it. how was it? what was he wearing, did he smell good, did you guys kiss-"

"what is up with people thinking i just go around kissing everyone? i did not fucking kiss anton, and i didn't smell him! you weirdo..." you playfully slap her shoulder, and she giggles. "but it was fine. it was more like catching up with an old friend than a date."

"so are you guys friends again? it's been how many years since you've talked?"

"like 3 years now... it's so weird! it was so awkward at the start too, like i didn't know what to say to him and then it being a date that our moms planned just made it even worse"

"this is good though! now that you two are friends, i can stop trying to avoid his friend." she’s smirking now, and you give her the meanest side eye. she’s been crushing on wonbin for months now, but she didn’t want to date one of antons friends for your sake. You did have some mutual friends, but you wouldn't go past the line of friendship with anyone who was associated with anton because you didn't want to cross paths with him more than necessary.

"i really can't believe you would take advantage of this situation to hook up with wonbin!"

"i'm just putting it in the air that i would totally fuck antons friend if given the opportunity. and with your little situation you give me the perfect opportunity to shoot my shot" she says matter of factly, and you know that you can't stop her once she has her mind to something so you just sigh.

"you're unbelievable"

after debriefing your saturday with sky, you two were still hanging out on the couch watching tv. truthfully, the tv was watching you both since you were both on your phones. while you were scrolling through videos, an unexpected notification pops on the top of your screen.

it was anton. what was he texting you for? technically you two were friends again, but you didn't know you two would be back on a texting basis so soon.

ant: are you back on campus? ant: this is anton btw you: i knew it was you you: but yeah i'm on campus, what's up? ant: can you meet me in the dining hall you: right now? ant: if you're not busy right now, then yeah you: i'll be there in 10

“i'm gonna go to the dining hall to get some snacks, you want anything?”

“just a soda pleaseee”

you go to your room to change your sweatpants to jeans and throw on a hoodie, then you make your way out of your apartment to meet anton. luckily, it wasn't a long walk from where you lived. it was a small apartment off campus that you and sky split. as you’re nearing your destination, you see the boy standing outside on his phone while he waited for you. he looks up and sees you, waving you over once you notice him.

“hey” he breathes out once you reach him, and you put your hands in your hoodie pocket while you look up at him.

“hi” you give him a small smile, following him as you two walk into the dining hall.

“you weren’t busy or anything, right? i didn't mean to interrupt your afternoon” he finds a nice table for you two to sit, and you watch as he fidgets with his fingers.

“no, no don't worry i wasn't doing anything. but what's up?”

he lets out a sigh and runs his fingers through his hair. he seemed nervous, which was making you nervous. you literally saw him yesterday, what could have happened in the last 24 hours?

“don’t be mad, okay?”

“you can’t tell me not to get mad anton, now i'm preparing to be mad.” you roll your eyes, the concern you had turning into a lack of patience. he should know by now how much of an impatient person you were, never liking suspense or surprises.

“well um, after yesterday my mom was really happy that we went on a ‘date’,” he puts finger quotes over the word date, and you raise an eyebrow “...and she kept going on and on about us being a couple”

“you told her we weren’t dating, right?”

silence. it was your time to sigh now, already knowing where this was headed.

“anton…” your voice drifts, and he jumps to defend himself.

“she was just so happy! i didn't want to let her down. so she’s kind of under the assumption that we’re dating.” he puts his head down, probably because he expected you to start yelling at any moment.

“dude! you can't just do that without telling me, now my mom’s gonna think we’re together too” it was your time to sigh now, confusion and a tang of anger brewing through you.

“i'm sorry, really. but thats why i needed to see you, i think i have a solution for this”

“the solution better be you telling your mom that we’re not together, anton” your voice is serious, and you fold your arms over your chest.

“well not exactly, we could just let our moms think we’re a couple whenever we are around them, but we don't have to really be together! that way we can still be friends and they can be happy” he says it like it's the greatest idea in the world, and you stare at him blankly for a few seconds.

“are you insane? i am not doing that.” a scoff leaves your lips, and he gives you a defeated look before he tries again.

“it's just for our moms! no one has to know” it’s honestly comical at this point how he was borderline begging you. but you understand where he’s coming from. if you told your mom that you and anton really weren’t dating, you would never hear the end of it and she would keep trying to get you two together.

“i'll think about it. but you're buying me lunch”

you spent the night in your room thinking. it really wasn't a bad idea, but fake or not, did you want to date anton? just for the sake of your moms, and no one else had to know. it would be believable in the eyes of your moms, since you two were friends again you two would be hanging out.

i guess i could pretend to date him for a little bit. how often would we be around our parents for it to be a problem? if we’re always on campus, they won't expect to see us that much. you were mumbling to yourself, weighing your options before you decided to text anton your decision.

you: i thought about it ant: so? you: it's just for our moms you: and you're buying me food for a month! ant: deal

you have your head in your hands while you try to keep yourself focused for the last 20 minutes of class, bored out of your mind while your professor talks at the slowest pace known to man. you're spacing out now, twirling your pen between your fingers and staring straight forward. letting your eyes drift, they fall on anton. he was sitting in the row in front of you, and from where he was sitting you were able to see his side profile. it almost looked like he was sleeping, which wouldn’t surprise you since you were also super bored.

how do you go back to being friends with someone after years of not talking? the two of you were cool but you can't help but think that it would be awkward for a little bit until you two were comfortable again. how much has he changed? how much have you changed? what if you have nothing in common anymore, and it was the universe's plan for you two to drift apart?

stop overthinking things, you guys are just friends. there was nothing to overthink, right?

after a few more minutes of arguing with your inner monologue, class is finally over. you're packing up your things when you notice someone is standing over you. you look up to see anton.

“do you want to get lunch? if you don't have any classes after this, of course. it'll be me and some of my friends, you can invite sky too if you want since i know you’re not very familiar with all of them” he says to you softly. You were kind of hungry now that he’s brought up food, and who would you be to deny a free meal?

“thank god you asked me, i'm starving. let me text sky to see if she wants to join” You get out of your seat and follow anton out of the classroom and to the dining hall.

you text sky to come to the dining hall, and that you'll be having lunch with anton. You tell her that wonbin will be there too knowing that she’ll get there faster than the speed of light. and you were right, once you and anton were turning the corner you could see sky out of breath as she came up to you.

“y/n!! no matter what i do, i just can't get my grade up higher than a c in chem! i don't know how anyone is passing that class, i swear i'm going to kill my professor- oh, hi anton!” sky is ranting to you while barely catching her breath, and then she realizes that anton was standing next to you. she gives him a smile, and then gives you a look.

if anton wasn’t right there, you would hit her and tell her to cut it out. You knew her look was a ‘he looks good’ type of look, and you didn't want him to pick up on her nonsense.

“hey sky, and who’s your chem professor? i heard mr.jung was a pain in the ass, one of my friends has him for chem too” you all make your way to where antons friends are sitting now, eying the group to see if anyone else you know is there.

“i have mr.jung! i swear im gonna kill myself if he doesn’t raise my grade.” sky pouts, and you all stand before the table, anton going to introduce you and sky to the group.

“guys this is y/n and sky” he raises his voice a bit so everyone can hear him, and everyone waves and says hi to you both. “y/n, sky, this is sohee, wonbin, sullyoon, and seunghan”

You already knew sohee and sullyoon, you all were partners in a project for bio last semester and got kind of close. and you didn’t know wonbin aside from sky thirsting over him for the last two years, showing you every little thing he posted on social media like he was some celebrity crush. and seunghan you weren’t too familiar with, could be simply because you don't have any classes with him in it and you don't know much of the friends anton has made since you two talked last.

you finally take a seat next to anton, sky and sohee sitting across from you. his friends are cool, you admit as you make good conversation with everyone at the table. you didn’t have a real friend group on campus, you mainly only talked to sky along with a few other people but they were all a part of different crowds. so it was nice that anton let you join in with his group of friends.

“do you want to get your food now? i can get it for you if you want to stay here,” anton leans over to talk to you, loud enough for only you to hear.

“no its fine ill come with” you turn to face him and you two let the table know you’re getting food and you’ll be right back.

you two grab trays and fill up your plates, now going to the line to pay for the food. You decide now you should quickly run over some rules about how this fake relationship is going to go, since you’re hanging out with his friends you don't want any suspicions about what your relationship with anton was.

“we’re keeping this whole thing a secret from our friends, right? ” you ask him, and he takes a moment to think before he responds.

“if you want to keep it a secret then sure, it might be weird to tell people that we’re faking a relationship, and that way we don't have to fake it in front of our friends” he lets out a soft laugh, and you nod in agreement.

“that’s true, telling sky that you’re my boyfriend would raise all kinds of hell”

Unfortunately, neither you or anton realized sohee was walking up behind you both and was able to pick up on the last bits of your conversation. intrigued, he butts in to stand in between you two. “hey guys, what's all this talk about boyfriend and girlfriend? You two dating?” he smirks, and you and anton stare at him and then at each other in shock.

this cannot be happening.

“What?” you let out a nervous chuckle “no, we’re not” it comes out faster than you can process, and you look at sohee with a smile hoping that he believes you. but he doesn't. not even a little bit.

he squints, giving you a look and then giving the same look to anton and then looking back at you. “You were just saying that anton was your boyfriend though.” you look past sohee to look at anton, he was paying for your food while you were being interrogated by sohee. Your body is heating up with anxiety, realizing nothing you say could get this boy to drop the topic. curse him for being so nosey.

“We just haven't told anyone yet, we didn’t want to make it a big deal.” anton chimes in before you could think of a reasonable response, and now you and sohee were looking at anton with wide eyes.

“this is great! we all thought there had to be something going on with you two,” he’s teasing you two now, and all you could do was sigh. this entire situation taking a sharp turn and you know that sohee was going to tell everyone, and there was no escape from being antons fake girlfriend.

Why did he have to tell sohee that you two were together? again, doing things without letting you know first. and he’s a bit of a loudmouth, so you know when he’s walking away that he’s going to tell the table that you two were together.

“What the fuck anton? Why did you do that” You whine, grabbing your food tray from him while you make your way back to the table.

You honestly don't even want to talk to him right now. You were annoyed, you were just agreeing that you two would keep it a secret?

anton follows close behind you, understanding your anger since he didn’t realize what he was saying until he said it. truthfully, his mind went into fight or flight for a moment. the easiest thing he could think of to get sohee to leave you two alone was to just give into what he was saying. obviously, he didn’t realize the gravity of his words until after the fact.

as you two approach the table, everyone is looking at you guys and smiling. You want to scream. this seriously cannot be my life.

“the love birds are back!!” Wonbin cheers, and the rest of the table follows along with whistles and cheers.

“y/n, why didn't you tell me! you had me thinking we hated him” sky pouts as you sit down, and antons ears perk up at this. you hated him? he took note in his mind to ask you about that later.

“you guys could have told us, y'know. we would have figured it out anyways. the tension is definitely there” sullyoon comments while she takes a bite of her food. the rest of the table nods in agreement, and you let out a small scoff.

What tension are they talking about? the few encounters with anton that you’ve had with him before this weekend were definitely tense, but only because it was awkward. Whatever tension they thought they felt was out of pure delusion.

You don't know how much more of this you could put up with.

the week went by slowly. almost too slow for your liking. it was finally friday, and your mom is texting you to come home for the weekend again, and to bring anton with you.

truthfully, you’ve been ignoring him all week. after that little stunt he pulled on monday, after you finished your food you lied and told everyone you had to get ready for your next class. it wasn’t a full lie since you did have a class, but it wasn't for another hour and a half. You just couldn't bear being at that table, and being around him. he texted you once you left to ask if you were alright, and you just gave him a simple ‘im fine’. he texted you again on tuesday, and then yesterday but you ignored them. You probably should respond, before he starts asking sky or sullyoon about you. and it would probably be a good idea to stop avoiding antons friends as well when you pass by them on campus. it wouldn’t be a good look for you or for anton, and you don't want to come off as rude to anyone

as you were packing some clothes along with your basic necessities to go to your moms house, your phone starts to ring. You walk over to where you set it to look at who was calling, and of course it was the person you were thinking about. You thought about declining it, but you decided to answer.

“What do you want, anton.” your voice was monotone and feigning annoyance, not really in the mood to talk to him.

“Um, are you doing anything right now?” he sounds nervous, and you decide maybe you should relax and talk to him calmly.

You might be upset with him right now, but you can’t be mean to him even if you tried. he was always sweet to you, so it wouldn’t be fair to talk to him like that if he wasn’t going to talk back.

“i’m just packing up some stuff to go to my moms. you’re going too, right? she wants to have a dinner or something, with us and your parents”

“yeah, that's why i called. im actually here to pick you up, it would be better if we showed up together than separately” he chuckles nervously and you hum in response.

“oh! okay well… i should hurry up then. i'll be outside in a few minutes.” you say quickly, and he lets out a soft ‘okay’ before ending the call. You shove everything into your little bag, not needing a lot since you already had things at your moms and you were only going to be there for the weekend. saying bye to sky, you put your shoes on and walk out to meet with anton outside.

once you push through the front doors of your apartment building, you see anton leaning on the door of his car while he waits for you. he sees you, and hurries to catch you and help you with your bag. it wasn't even a heavy bag, but the gesture was nice. and of course he’s opening the door to the passengers seat for you, making sure you’re fully seated before closing the door and making his way into the driver's seat.

he’s putting his seatbelt on when you decide to break the silence. “sorry for ignoring you all week. i was just kind of shaken by everything that happened monday” your voice is soft, playing with your fingers while you talk.

he doesn't say anything for a few seconds, and you start to wonder if he was mad at you. You couldn’t blame him, you would be mad if someone ignored you for a week too.

“it’s fine, i figured you wanted some space. i’m sorry i told sohee that we were dating, i kind of panicked and i didnt know how else to get him to leave us alone. and i didnt think he would go and tell everyone, so i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay, anton. i can't really be mad at you, because i don't even know if i would have said anything better than you did. it just caught me off guard” you’re looking at him now, shifting in the seat a bit so you weren't turning your neck too much. he looks at you and smiles softly, going back to looking at the road.

a comfortable silence fell between the two of you as he drove, the dreaded talk about monday relieving the awkward tension in the vehicle. as he turns into the neighborhood, you sigh knowing what's going to unfold once you step foot through the front door of your mothers house.

With the combination of your mom and antons mom being crazy about you two being together, you were glad that his dad was the only normal one. he was completely fine with you two just being good friends and you were so grateful for that. often, he would have to be the peacemaker in the room telling mrs.lee and your mom to calm down and let you two be.

“i think we should make some… ground rules for this whole thing. for now and for back on campus.” you state as he pulls into the driveway, and once he parks the car he shifts so he can face you.

“i agree, anything you have in mind?”

You two come up with some standard rules, some things are a hard no and some are subject to change.

rule #1- don't let anyone know its a fake relationship: it would be embarrassing if anyone knew that rule #2- keep it believable, but nothing extreme rule #3- adding onto number 2, keep the pda and flirting to a safe minimum, and no kissing rule #4- no dating/flirting with other people: fake or not, if people think you’re in a relationship do not try to get into another one. rule #5- anton owes you food for 3 months for putting you into this situation. its only fair! rule #6- the most important, do not catch feelings. You guys were just friends! two friends, pretending to date in front of your family and friends. it was all pretend though, no feelings were actually involved, right?

dinner went well, sitting next to anton while the adults talked about their own things and occasionally asking questions to the both of you. luckily not a lot of relationship topics were brought up. You two were able to have your own conversations throughout dinner, which reminded you of the dinners you all would have throughout your childhood.

once everyone was finished eating, anton helped your mother in the kitchen while you sat in the living room with his parents.

“y/n, i am so happy that you and anton are finally a couple! i feel like i’ve been waiting for this all my life” mrs.lee cheers, and you smile along with her. “isn't he just the sweetest boy?”

“he’s very sweet, probably the sweetest i’ve been with” you tell her and she's cheesing so hard. honestly, making the relationship believable wasn't going to be hard around mrs.lee and your mom, because you have no complaints about anton. he truly was the sweetest boy. even if you two weren’t really dating, he was respectful and very gentlemanly.

“We have his father to thank for that,” mrs.lee nudges at her husband, and he just gives a small chuckle at the comment.

“ i always taught him to be respectful. but truthfully the reason he’s so sweet to y/n is because he likes you” mr.lee starts, and you have to remember to not reject his words since you were trying to keep up an act here.

all you could do was let out an awkward laugh, not sure what to say to add onto the conversation. “maybe, but he’s sweet to everyone” you try to act humble, and mr.lee gives you a look that tells you that you were wrong.

“he may be nice to everyone, but i don't think you realize just how differently he treats you than anyone else. even when you two were younger and friends, he was always the nicest to you. and don't tell him i told you this, but he had a little crush on you back in middle and highschool.” he whispers the last part, and you feel your heart drop to your feet.

“h-he did? i had no idea…” words coming out soft now, you drop your head to stop the blood from rushing into your face.

“he would always come home and tell us about something you did that day. he got over it after a while, but i bet he’s so happy that you two are finally together!” mrs.lee swoons, and you suddenly feel lightheaded.

this is all too much. anton used to like you? how come he never said anything? You excused yourself from his parents, and made your way to the kitchen.

“hey mom, i’m a little tired so im gonna head upstairs.” You walk in to her drying and putting away dishes, while anton washes them. he looks over you, noticing the tone in your voice along with the look on your face wasn’t because of fatigue, but that something was wrong.

“okay baby, let me know if you need anything.” she walks to the end of the kitchen island where you were standing, giving you a hug goodnight. “anton, why don't you go with y/n upstairs? it's getting late, and i can finish up in the kitchen.” she turns from you to look at the boy scrubbing away at a pot, and he stops dead in his tracks at her words.

“i was just going to head back with my parents once we finished,” he starts, looking at your mom and then at you, not wanting to intrude. he did want to talk to you, but he didn’t want to be in your space if you didn't want him there.

“don't be silly, anton! You two are a couple and are old enough now, i don't have to separate you two” she laughs, and you and anton just stare at each other awkwardly. You were going to tell her to let it go, but because of the unique situation you two were in it was probably the best idea to follow your moms orders. You motion for him to follow you, you both saying goodnight to your mom and then to his parents. You’re walking towards the stairs to go to your room, when anton tells you that he’ll be back to get his bag out of his car.

While he grabs his things, you make your way up to your room. You leave the door open, just in case anton doesn't remember which room was yours. Walking to your window, you open it and stick your head out so you can get some fresh air.

What a night, you’re thinking to yourself. You need to calm down. With what happened on monday and what antons parents were telling you earlier, you were just too in your head. too much was happening too fast. Why was this affecting you so much? and with that you hear footsteps coming into your room and then a door closing.

“are you alright? You looked a little flushed downstairs” the soft voice calls to you, and you know that its anton.

You take a deep breath before turning to face him. “i'm fine. i am now, at least. i just kind of felt bad for lying right in my mom and your parents' faces. i had to get away from them” your voice is low while you speak, looking to the floor once again to avoid his eyes. he takes note of your body language, seeing that you’re a bit tense and awkward now but he doesn’t want to pry.

“if you want i can sleep on the floor,” he’s placing his bag on the chair by your desk, grabbing something to change into for bed.

“no, that's too uncomfortable. You can sleep on the bed” you say it in a way where its clear there's no room for debate, and he nods.

anton would never admit it to you, but he found you severely intimidating. even when you two were younger, he was always intimidated by you. You carried yourself well, you didn’t take bullshit from anyone, always got your way, and you were stubborn. he was surprised your personalities didn't clash, he felt like you wouldn't want to be friends with someone like him. but truthfully that's what brought you two together. it was like fire and ice, you were the fire and he was the ice to cool you down.

but with being the ice, he was too scared to touch you in fear that he would melt.

another week passes by, and you feel like you were going insane. You don't know what it is, but every time you see anton, your heart starts racing, your face heats up along with the rest of your body.

When he holds your hand or rests his hand on your thigh when you two were out with friends, you had to keep your composure to the best of your ability. especially when he would subconsciously graze his thumb across the back of your hand, the action small and going unnoticed to the naked eye, but feeling too intimate for you and you would pull your hand away.

the days that he would come over to your apartment or you would go to his dorm to hang out after classes, you found yourself feeling nervous. especially when you two were at your place, seeing him in your room and in your bed had you feeling like jelly. sometimes he would fall asleep before you, and you wouldn’t wake him up. it would be late, and you would feel bad for waking him up and making him go back to his dorm. You were comfortable enough around him anyways to tell him to move, and he never slept too close to you throughout those nights. a deep part of you wished he did, though. but you don't want to think about crossing that path yet.

a few more days passed, and on wednesday, you went with him to his swim practice so you two could go back to your apartment and order takeout once he was finished. You brought a book with you since you didn’t know much about swimming, and you wanted to keep yourself occupied while you waited.

an hour of practice goes by and lets just say, not a single page of the book you brought with you was read. not like you would be able to focus on reading anyways, seeing how he swam in the water was a lot more entertaining than you thought. along with how he looked when he pushed himself out of the water, full body on display. his broad shoulders, his toned arms and stomach, the droplets of water dripping from his hair down his back, the way he throws his head back to move his hair out of his face-

Wait a damn minute.

You needed to leave, feeling hot suddenly. Were you really sitting here thirsting over anton? of course, you always found him attractive. You would be silly if you didn't. but you never had any thoughts about him. and you don't want right now, in the campus pool, to be where you start. You walk down the bleachers, trying to think of an excuse of why you’re leaving the building.

“y/n? are you leaving?” anton catches you before you could find him, you turn around to see him speed walking towards you and you almost let out a giggle seeing he hasn't taken his goggles off.

“it’s just kind of humid in here. i'm gonna sit outside until you finish, okay?” you clutch your bag a bit tighter, him standing wet and shirtless in front of you is making you nervous. he’s peering down at you, smiling lightly before he lets you know he’ll be out in around 30 minutes.

You nearly trip on your way out, feeling refreshed once you finally escape the pool room air. You take your phone out of your pocket, debating on texting sky. she didn’t know that you and antons relationship was all a facade, so what exactly could you tell her? should you just tell her the truth? You couldn't do that, that would be breaking the rules. and who knows what she would do if she found out. You had to mask it with something else in order to get your feelings off your chest.

You: sky You: sky pls You: i'm going insane sky: what what what You: okay so… yk me and anton sky: i’m aware You: well we’ve been together for about two weeks and some days You: and there's been some tension You: that wasn't there before sky: like sexual? sky: you havent fucked that boy yet? You: omfg You: no! we haven't gotten there yet… sky: so ur telling me, you've been dating a fine ass man… sky: and you havent fucked him… for what reason? sky: better than me y/n… i would have been jumped his bones You: sky you are so unserious You: but help me out here! do i tell him? or do i just go for it sky: i say talk to him first because what if he isn't ready You: ur so right sky ily sky: lyt babes ;)

Using sex fantasies as a mask for your feelings was definitely a choice, but it helped you out regardless. of course, now you have more things to think about. did you really want to date anton? You told yourself you didn't before, but now you weren't so sure. he was the full package, everything you could ask for in a guy. so there was really nothing stopping you. but you two were friends.

he also used to like you back in grade school. key word: used to. What if he completely got over you and wouldn’t even think about dating you now? this was a tough situation, and you don't know how much longer you could keep this up with repressed feelings.

after 10 more minutes of overthinking, you can feel a presence behind you so you quickly turn your body to see anton right behind you.

“You ready?” he’s looking down at you again, hair slightly covering his eyes because of the beanie he wore. his body once again covered up by the baggy hoodie along with the black sweatpants he wore. You would never be able to guess how built he really was under the clothes he chose to wear.

You realize you might be staring a little too hard for a little too long so you give him a nod. “Yeah, let's go” and he’s taking you by the hand while you follow him to his car.

he drives you two to the nearest food place you guys could agree on. You two agree on getting wings for tonight, and then make your way to your apartment. once you enter, you see sky sitting in the living room. she gives you a look only you two would be able to understand, with anton right behind you.

sky greets you two, and anton greets her back while you take off your shoes and then make your way into the kitchen. You grab two sodas, and walk out to where anton was standing. he was usually a bit awkward around your apartment if you weren’t telling him where to go, too scared that he would touch something he shouldn’t.

following you to your room with the food, anton shuts the door softly behind him. the boy was already in comfortable clothes, taking a shower before he left the locker rooms after practice and made sure that he brought something he wouldn't be uncomfortable in. You were still wearing a pair of jeans and a cute crop top under a zip up hoodie.

“i'm gonna change in the bathroom, you can pull the food out and put something on the tv,” you tell the boy sitting on your bed, and he hums in response while you leave the room. Walking over to the bathroom down the hall, you take this time to relax yourself.

You quickly change into a pair of sweats and an old tshirt, and you walk further down the hall to the living room to quickly talk to sky.

“are you fucking him tonight? let me know so i can put in my headpho- ow!” you pinched her arm before she could finish her sentence.

“i am not fucking him! i just came out here to tell you that i'm gonna talk to him about it”

“okay, but if there's a change of plans let me know!”

truthfully you were going to tell him about your feelings, just not tonight. maybe friday, you got invited to a party that sohee was throwing at his frat and you know that anton will be there too.

You walk back into your room now, seeing the food laid out and a movie ready for you as you get situated next to anton on your bed. he put on some action movie, which was a genre you both equally enjoyed. being around anton was comfortable. You two were able to sit in silence, laugh, and talk without any judgments.

this could either end really good or really, really bad.

it was friday. the day you would tell anton about your feelings. Was it a good idea to tell him at a party? probably not, but the influence of alcohol might help you build up the much needed courage. What could possibly go wrong though, right? the worst he could say is no, and you two could just go back to being friends and drop the fake dating act.

You put on your best party dress, it was black and had the right amount of cleavage and rode up just enough for it to not be too skimpy. knowing how crazy sohee’s parties get, you wanted to make sure that you were dressed for the occasion along with getting antons attention.

sky calls you over, letting you know she’s ready to go. You ride in her car to the party, she’s known as the designated driver for you and your friends since she was the only one who didn't like to drink. What would you do without her?

right as you walk into the house, seunghan is at the door handing you a shot glass. You down it without question, making a face at the liquid burning down your throat. You would love to get absolutely shitfaced right now, but you want to find anton. You’re pushing through the crowd of people before you see him, he’s standing close to the patio window, red solo cup in hand while he talks to sohee and some other guys you’re not familiar with.

“hey anton,” you look at him happily, and he doesn’t even glance at you while he continues his conversation. Weird, he’s never blatantly ignored you like that, but maybe he thought you were someone else. You call him again and he finally looks at you. he glances at your outfit and then back to your face, little to no reaction to your presence.

“hi y/n” he looks at you with a look you can’t quite decipher, and you feel a slight tinge of pain in your chest at this. why was he suddenly so emotionless around you? was he drunk? “can i talk to you, it'll be quick?” he says loud enough for just you to hear, and he excuses himself from his friends while he leads you to a quiet, dimly lit hallway.

“What's up?”

and that's when he lays it on you.

“i think that we should end this.”

You nearly drop to your knees when you hear those words come out of his mouth. “huh?” is all you could muster up, playing it off as you couldn't hear him due to the party.

“this whole fake dating thing, i think we should end it. We’re just friends, right? not like we have feelings for each other or anything… and it’s just too much work and pressure to keep up with a fake relationship” he’s not looking at you now, and all you can do is stand there in shock.

it takes a minute for your brain to start working again, finally able to process your own thoughts and words.

“right. You’re right. i guess it’s for the best if we end it. i’ll um, i’ll see you around” and you’re walking away so fast anton didn't have a chance to say anything else and to stop yourself from crying in front of everyone at this party. You quickly find sky, interrupting her flirt session with wonbin to tell her you guys need to go. she’s holding your hand tight through the crowd and out the door, and once you’re in her car you��re letting it all out. the sobs are uncontrollable now, everything you held in 3 minutes ago just coming out.

You tell sky everything on the way home, feeling like there was no reason to keep anything a secret anymore. “that asshole! i’ll kill him, i really will” sky is heated now, she couldn’t stand seeing you like this and she couldn’t stand knowing who made you like this.

“he’s never talked to me like that. even when he’s annoyed at me! he’s never looked at me with absolutely no emotion… i don't understand what happened” you start to think out loud once you two are inside your apartment, tears dried and the confusion settling in. you’re pacing around the living room and you feel your phone vibrate in your purse. You pull it out to see anton calling you, and you press decline.

Whatever he has to say, you don't want to hear it. You should have known not to say anything. maybe if you had just waited until tomorrow. but if he wanted to end things, what would he have done if you confessed?

sky's phone was ringing now, she picks it up and is nearly yelling into her phone the second she presses answer.

“hello?... Yes, we’re fine. What the fuck is up with anton, man?…okay… i don't think that's going to happen for a while… okay bye.” she sets her phone down, and her eyes soften as she watches you continue to pace the living room. “that was wonbin on the phone, he said anton was a little drunk and he wants to talk to you when you can. they’re trying to sober him up now because he started drinking more after we left. What an idiot,” she’s next to you now, rubbing circles on your back while you stare at the wall.

Yeah, what an idiot. the both of you were idiots, it seems.

another week goes by, and you’ve completely shut everyone out. You ignore texts, you skip classes, you don't even leave the apartment to get food. thank goodness for doordash.

You check your phone, looking at all of the missed calls and messages from the people worried about you. one name sticks out the most, but that's the one name you don't want to talk to right now. avoiding him like he was the plague, along with any of his friends to make sure that he doesn’t hear about you.

Unknown information to you, but sky was out. she was out with the enemy, to be more specific. she had seen anton in the courtyard with wonbin and seunghan, and she made a beeline for the boy. he noticed her almost instantly, preparing for a well deserved lashing or maybe even a slap to the face, but she grabbed him by his forearm and dragged him to a quiet side of the courtyard where she could talk freely.

“You really fucked up, anton.” she's speaking softly. “she hasnt left her room in 5 days. i don't know what to do to get her out.”

“i’ve tried texting and calling her every day, but she doesn't respond.” his voice quieter than usual as he tries to explain himself.

“well can you blame her? you shut her feelings down before she could even get them out!” she’s quick to your defense, which was one of the reasons you loved sky. she always had your back.

“i… it's not like i don't have feelings for her, because shit, i’ve liked that girl since we were 13. but i didn't know that she felt the same way and i was too scared to ruin our friendship” he wanted to cry, ruining something that he wanted so badly with his own thoughts.

he knew that the fake dating would resurface old feelings, but along with the feelings came the other emotions that come with liking you. he was nervous around you, he was too scared that you wouldn’t like him back and that you were only doing this because he put you in this situation. Which was another reason he was too nervous to confess, because this relationship was fake. You two were friends who were just pretending to date. and neither of you were getting anything out of it, so why would you develop romantic feelings for him? he didn't think you liked him, and to protect his heart he had to let you go. but the moment he saw your face drop at that party with tears threatening to fall, he knew he made a mistake. he never wanted to see you make that face again, especially not if it was caused by him.

“You could have maybe asked her how she felt about you two before you just acted on a made up scenario in your head? like do you even think before you say things…” her voice is filled with confusion and annoyance, not understanding how someone could sabotage their own relationships the way he was. and you’re her best friend, so she felt obligated to get some answers for you.

“i was in panic mode! i couldn’t handle being her fake boyfriend anymore when i wanted to be with her for real. do you think she’ll hear me out?” if he had to get on his knees and beg you to give him another chance, he would. he couldn't bear not being with you, and he felt like he’d rather crawl into a corner and die than living his life without you again.

“i don't know, she’s doing everything in her power to avoid you right now. but you better fix this mess or i'll have your head on a stick” she smiles at the end of her threat, reaching to pat anton on the head before walking way.

he was going to make things right.

With a deep breath, anton is knocking on your front door. You were eating some leftovers from some food you ordered the day before, not bothering to order food today. sky must have forgotten her keys again, you think as you walk over to the front door.

“sky you can't keep forgetting your ke- oh.” the one person you dreaded seeing is standing at your door with a bouquet of flowers, and a bag of your favorite candy. if you weren't so upset right now, you probably would have swooned over him coming over unannounced.

“can we talk?” he takes in your appearance, you were wearing a hoodie along with a pair of shorts and slippers. You wouldn't say you looked a mess, but you would have put yourself together a bit more if you had known that anyone other than sky would see you today. his eyes are soft, filled with hope that you’ll let him in.

“i don't really want to talk to you right now” your face is blank, not wanting to show any sort of emotions. You could honestly cry, but you had to stay strong for yourself.

“please? it's really important,” it almost comes out as a plea, and you nearly drop the cold act. seeing him at your door like this, maybe you should let him in? not that you wanted to hear whatever he has to say, but he came all this way.

“fine, but make it quick” grabbing the flowers and candy from him, you let him in and you go to the kitchen to put the flowers in a vase. he sits on the end of your couch, and he's tapping his fingers on his knees while he waits for you to walk into the living room.

When you’re seated on the other end of the couch, you peer your head over to look at anton, who was almost visibly shaking from nervousness.

“okay, what do you want?” the cold act is back, wanting to hear him out before you fold. the gesture of him coming with flowers kind of gave away what was coming from him, but you didn't want to get excited too fast. he hurt your feelings last week, and you weren’t going to let it run past you that easily just because he came to you pleading with flowers. You could, and hell you definitely wanted to, but you were stronger than that.

something about anton made you so weak. normally a strong stubborn person, melting and giving in to whatever he says. You don't know how he could have this effect on you, no one else is able to make you putty in their hands the way anton does. but you can't let him know that. not now, at least.

“i need to apologize for everything. not just for last week, but for putting you into this situation in the first place. when this all started, our moms setting us up like that, i didnt think much of it. but then hanging out with you that day brought back so many memories and i didnt want to stray away from you again. so i lied to my mom, and then i brought up the fake dating idea to you. You probably never knew this, but i’ve had a crush on you since we were in middle school. it went away in junior year when we stopped talking, because you had gotten a boyfriend and i was so upset that you were with someone else. i was too scared to confess to you then, and even now i'm terrified. talking to you again resurfaced all of my old feelings for you and i thought that us being in a fake relationship would bring us closer together. and then i panicked, because i thought you wouldn't like me back. We were getting so close and i was too scared of rejection, i couldn’t tell if you had any feelings for me in that way, so i thought ending it now would stop me from getting hurt” he pauses, and you take in everything he’s saying.

tears that you tried to fight back were falling, you couldn't stop them while you listened to every word the boy beside you said knowing that he was being completely genuine. You could barely look at him, seeing that he looked like he was fighting back tears himself.

“and seeing you at the party, i was planning on talking to you after the party but you looked so pretty i knew i wouldn't be able to stick by your side as a fake boyfriend when all i wanted was to be your real boyfriend. i didn't mean to hurt you, seriously. it nearly killed me when i saw you look at me so heartbroken. i never want to make you upset like that again.“ he was crying too now, and somehow the two of you were no longer on either side of the couch but right in the middle. not touching, but close enough to feel each other's presence. after a minute of calming yourself down, you try to find the right words to say to the boy next to you.

“You’re an idiot, lee anton” is all you could muster up, almost laughing. You sniffle, and you look at anton while he still has his head down. “You’re really an idiot, because how could i not like you back? i’ve never been around a guy as sweet as you, and i might not have seen it a couple years ago but i see it now. Y’know, the other weekend when we were at my moms and you were helping clean up… your parents had told me about your old crush on me. that’s why i was so shaken up, because i was starting to realize my own feelings for you.” he’s finally looking at you now, tears wiped away and an almost smile on his face.

“they told you about that? i wanted to be the one to tell you” his face was a bright red from embarrassment, his parents exposing his past crush on you was not something he would expect from them. And the fact that you weren’t repulsed by his old crush caught him off guard. Of course, you have feelings for him now, but knowing that he liked you when you two were cringey teenagers? You should be laughing at him and calling him crazy.

“ after all the times i friendzoned you during that time? i don't know how you did it. i guess i deserved the rejection last friday as a payback from all the times i shut you down.” humoring the situation was the best thing you could do to ease the tension in the room, and you both chuckle softly at your comment.

he takes your hand into his, shifting his body so hes completely facing you, and you look down at your hands before looking back at his face. he was back to looking serious, with those soft pleading eyes burning into yours.

“y/n, i want you to know that i like you. i like you so much, it physically hurts. i never want to be away from you, and i never want to hurt you. and i want us to be together, for real this time. no bullshit, no rules, no more confusion. You’re the most amazing girl in the world and i can't imagine living a life without you in it. if you’ll let me, can i be your boyfriend?” you want to cry again, this was the cutest confession you’ve ever heard. You take a little bit too long to respond and his mouth is slowly turning into a frown, thinking he's about to be rejected.

“Yes, anton. You can be my boyfriend” you squeeze his hand and now he’s tearing up again. he feels like the happiest person on the planet, finally getting to be with you in the way he wanted. Happy tears stream down your face, and you pull anton into a hug, holding him tightly. He holds you just as tight, breath hitting your neck as he breathes in the scent of your neck.

“We need to go out and celebrate! I wanna take you out, on a real date, and then we can tell everyone that we’re officially together, and-” He had pulled out of your hug so he could list off everything he wanted to do with you, and you had to put your hands on his shoulders to keep him grounded. Even though you love his rambling, his words were coming out quicker than his thoughts and you had to calm him down.

“Woah, let's just hang out tonight? We can go out tomorrow. And we should wait to tell everyone, sky probably still wants to rip your head off and we don't need sohee or anyone else talking” he nods, and he’s still smiling from ear to ear while he looks at you.

“You’re right, i'm just so happy.” he has his hands on your knees now, and his eyes go from where his hands lay, your lips, and your eyes. You trail your eyes to his lips and to his neck, then back at his lips. It was like you both wanted the same thing, but both were too shy to say something. Subconsciously you were slowly closing the gap, his body leaning into yours as well. Noses almost touching, you look into his eyes and give his shoulder a small squeeze to motion him to make a move.

“Can i kiss you?” you can feel the words leaving his lips on your own, and a small desperate please leaves you before the gap is finally closed and his lips are on yours. It was a soft kiss, the both of you getting used to each other. His lips were so soft, and they molded perfectly with yours. You felt his tongue swipe your bottom lip, and you let him into your mouth while you kissed him harder. His hands that were on your knees have moved, one hand resting on your hip while the other made it up your body and cupping the back of your neck to keep you on him. Your hands also snake into his hair, playing with the strands while you two softly make out.

Anton felt like he was in heaven. Kissing you was a dream come true, and it topped anything he could ever imagine. He kissed you softly but full of desperation, like you were going to vanish out of thin air. His grip on your waist got tighter, slightly pulling your body into his and you gasped into his mouth. Pulling away, you look at how dazed anton was. he’s breathing hard, lips swollen and hair disheveled. You didn’t mean to work him up so much from just kissing you, but you can't deny that you weren’t a little worked up yourself. Kissing him was like something you’ve never felt before. A kiss filled with love and desperation was something you haven’t felt before, and it was something you hope you never get used to. You want to kiss him like that every time, all the time.

“Do you want to go to my room?” you breathe out, and he nods his head happily. You stand up, grabbing his hand to bring you to his room.

Your body was heating up, feeling slightly nervous. He’s been in your room before, but as your boyfriend? It was like something in the air shifted. A new tension filled the room once you two stepped inside your room, you closed the door softly before antons hands were on you and pressing your body to the door. You gasp at his sudden control, looking up at him and you see how dark his eyes have gotten. With one hand on your waist and one on the back of your neck, he pulls you in for another kiss. It wasn’t soft like before but still filled with desperation, like he was starved of your lips. Your hands move to his hair and onto his bicep, gripping his arm to hold yourself up while he kisses you eagerly.

He’s strong enough to keep you up himself, but you feel like if you don't hold tightly to him you would melt. The hand on your waist pulls you into him some more, and he’s moving you both from the door to your bed. It was a bit of a struggle getting there, neither of you pulling away to see where you were going. Stumbling on each other's feet, you finally make it to the bed. Only pulling away so he could let you down softly, and you move back to the end of the bed before he’s climbing on top of you. Slotting his own legs between yours, his lips are attaching to your neck and you move your head to the side so he has better access.

You can't ignore the way his thigh is right on your core, not moving but you feel the heat between your legs with how he’s sucking and biting little marks on your neck. His hands rest on your waist under the hoodie you wore, and you lift them just slightly to get a tiny bit of friction going. With every gasp and whimper you let out, it goes through his ears and straight to his dick.

Anton feels you moving, and your own leg that was between his was just right below his growing hard on. He shifts so both his legs are between yours, pressing his core into yours and you let out a moan at the pressure.

You pull at his hair, taking your other hand to run it down his chest and down to his stomach. When your hands stop by his waist,tugging at his shirt indicating that you want it off. “Anton, take your shirt off” you groan out, noticing how he’s too lost in you to notice.

He quickly pulls away, lips and hands leaving your body. You almost felt cold, not having his body heat on you for those quick seconds. He’s sitting up so he can remove his shirt and you stare him down intently as you watch his muscles flex. Biting your lip, you run your hand down his bare chest, taking in the body above you.

“Can i take this off you?” he’s tugging on your hoodie now, and you nod before he helps you sit up slightly to remove the clothing off you before laying you back down. He gasps when he realizes you didn’t have a bra on this whole time, and he instantly attaches his hands to your breasts and gives them a squeeze. You would think this was his first time seeing a woman naked the way he gawks at you, but he’s just so in awe of how beautiful you were.

Leaning back down, his lips are back on yours. It's hot and messy, you can barely breathe the way he touches you. His kisses are trailing back down to your neck, and then his lips find your nipple. You whimper feeling his tongue flick the sensitive bud, one hand tweaking the other. His other hand makes its way down to the hem of your shorts, slightly dipping into your shorts but not enough. Like he was waiting for you to tell him what to do, he left his fingers right there even if you rutted your hips into his hand as a way to get him to touch you. He still wasn't letting up, and you knew that he really wasn't going to touch you unless you told him.

“Anton,” you whine, and he takes his lips off your nipple. His breath on the bud making you shiver, and you whine out again.

“What's wrong, baby?” You couldn’t tell if his voice was laced with fake or genuine concern, and it was killing you. You were probably fully soaked through your panties and shorts, the ache between your thighs getting almost unbearable.

“Want you to touch me” a whine slips past your lips, and you move the hand that was on his chest over where his own rests under the hem of your shorts.

“Yeah?” he teases, finally putting his hand fully down your pants to rub you through your panties. You let out an eager mhm along with a fast nod, his fingers lightly grazing over your clit. You try to lift your hips up, but he takes his free hand to hold your hips down. “Gonna take my time with you, baby”

Moaning at his words, you moan again when his fingers finally slip past your panties and run through your slit. Collecting your arousal on his fingers, and he lets out a soft chuckle. “You’re so wet,”

“Stop teasing, ton. Need you” you swirl your hips around his fingers, trying to get him to use them. He might be putty in your hands outside the bedroom, but it was the complete opposite right now. He likes seeing you like this. Weak under him, begging for some type of release. He finally obliges, his thumb circling your clit softly while he slips two fingers into you. You moan, the ache in your core slowly subsiding.

He sits up so he can see your reactions fully. Your eyes were fluttering shut, mouth open slightly from the pleasure he was giving you. He moved his fingers a bit faster, and adding a bit more pressure onto your clit which made you moan. Your hand that was on his wrist gripped him tightly. He was making you feel so good, and he looked so good while doing it. With your half open eyes, you could see him focused on your cunt. His eyes were glossed over, looking from his hand that was in your pants, your face, your tits, then back to his hand.

He could honestly cum in his pants from the sight. Your breathing was labored and you were clenching on his fingers tighter, and he could tell that you were getting close. You usually last longer, but he made you feel so good it was overwhelming. And with how hot he was, it was hard for you to hold out.

“Cum for me, y/n. Make a mess on my fingers” His words were so vulgar, but his voice was so soft. With a few more harsh circles to your clit, your back was arched off the bed while your orgasm hit you. Nails digging into antons wrist while he continued thrusting his fingers in you to help you ride out your orgasm. Other hand was in the sheets, grabbing onto whatever your fingers could pick up.

When your breathing goes back to normal, anton pulls his fingers out of you and out of your pants, taking them into his mouth. It was so messy, and you moan watching him taste you on his fingers. He hums, pulling his fingers out of his mouth with a pop before running his hands down your thighs.

“You okay?” for a quick minute the soft boyfriend you knew was back, checking to make sure you were okay and if you wanted to continue. You give him a weak nod, eyes struggling to stay open. Your hands are pulling at the hem of his pants now, and he’s stepping off the bed to rid himself of the last of his clothing.

Through your half hazy gaze, you watch him taking off his pants along with his boxers. Your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets when you see his cock spring out of his pants. Holy shit, he was big. You knew he would be because he was just so big everywhere else, but it still took you by surprise. He gets back on the bed, settling between your legs once again.

“How do you want me?” you ask him sweetly, and he bites his lip at the question. He hadn’t thought about it, and now he was thinking of all the possibilities of how he could fuck you right now. He placed his hands on your legs, lifting them so they could wrap around his waist.

“Just stay like this,” he leans down so he's a bit closer to your face, but not close enough for you to kiss him. His lips were slightly parted and his breathing was heavy, and you wanted to kiss him so badly. He almost seems nervous. Which would be insane with the way he made you cum just a few minutes ago. You grab him by the back of his neck to pull him to your lips, and you can feel the way he softens in your hold.

Your other hand snakes its way between the two of you, grabbing onto his cock softly. He tenses up again, a choked moan comes out before he can process the noises coming out of him. You stroke him slowly while he struggles to kiss you back, and you bite his lip as you pull away.

“Need you now, toni” you whisper on his lips, and you look into his eyes before he’s sitting up once again. He groans while he pumps himself a few more times, and then he’s pressing his tip into you.

The both of you let out a moan while he’s pushing himself into you, and you bring both arms up to wrap around his forearms. It takes a minute before he's fully sheathed into you, and when he is you feel so full.

“let me know if it's too much, okay?” His hands grip your waist, and all you nod in response.

“Dont worry. I can take it.” you say confidently and he gives you a sly look before he pulls out almost completely, and then thrusts back in with a slow but deep thrust. He hisses, your pussy clenching around him so tightly. One of his hands moves from your waist up your chest, stopping at your breasts to play with one of your nipples while he finds his rhythm inside of you. The stimulation in both areas makes you cry out, your grip on antons arm getting impossibly tighter.

He was still processing the fact that you were under him. It was an unreal situation. Never did he think he’d be able to get the girl he’s always wanted. never did he think he would be in her room. Never did he think he would be having sex with her.

His pace picks up, your body jerking forward with each thrust. You could barely keep your eyes open, but the view in front of you was too good to miss. The way the muscles in his arms flexed when he drove his hips into yours, and you could see how his stomach contracted with each thrust. His eyes were focused on where the two of you connected while you stared at him, and your moans got increasingly louder with every touch and with every thrust.

You bring a hand down to your clit, drawing circles on the sensitive area while he fucked you. He was moaning louder now, soft whimpers leaving him every time you clenched around him.

“You’re so tight, baby” he’s leaning over you now, moving your hand from your clit and pinning it to your side. He swiftly takes his other hand and places his own fingers on your clit, and you nearly scream, the amount of pressure and speed he adds has your eyes rolling back.

He couldn’t get enough of you. If he put his hands somewhere, it would only be for a few seconds before he was moving them to a different part of your body. The hand he used to pin you down was now grabbing onto your thigh, hiking your leg up so he could put it over his shoulder.

The new angle had his cock hitting a spot deep inside you that you didn’t know existed, and you bite your lip to stop another scream from coming out. His other hand was still in between your bodies, rubbing your clit with a swiftness. Your hand goes to his chest, subconsciously pushing him from the stimulation.

“thought you could take it, baby. need me to slow down?” He teases, and his thrusts falter just enough for you to feel it and beg for more. Fingers still on your clit, pushing hard on the bud but not moving them. You could barely think of words to say, but the loss of stimulation was helping you gain consciousness.

“n-no! feelsso good… gna cum” tears swelling up in your eyes, you slur your words trying to tell him that he could keep going. you were so close, and you didn't want his teasing to rip the feeling of your orgasm bubbling going away, so you hoped he would continue the pace and send you over the edge soon.

pushing you into the mattress, he thrusts hard and the tears that glossed over your eyes were now falling down, the pleasure was so overwhelming. with the way he was pressing into you, the way he looked into your eyes with each thrust and you struggled to keep them open, the way his fingers expertly handled your clit while his lips hovered over yours, and the sweet words on how good you felt while you could only whine and babble incoherent words, you were so close to hitting your peak.

“cum for me baby, i got you” and with that your body almost caves in on itself, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. your legs were shaking and your back would have arched completely off the bed if it weren't for anton above you, still fucking you sensless to help you ride it out. a choked sob leaves your lips, too breathless to let out any moans. it quickly became overstimulating, pushing at whatever body parts your hands could reach. He wasn’t letting up though, chasing his own high now and was lost in the feeling of your pussy squeezing him deliciously.

“toni, s’too much! too much,” you whine, and the boy removes his fingers off your clit to lift himself up. he brings your leg down from his shoulder, and keeps it around his waist with your other leg. he’s still fucking you, and its still a lot but without the abuse to your clit you could tolerate the feeling of his cock fucking into you some more until he cums. His eyes were shut now leaning back down to bury his face into your neck. your hands wrap around him, running your fingers through his hair and leaving gentle tugs which elicit loud moans out of him

“tell me where to cum, baby. where do you want it?” his voice is rushed, and you know you’d have to think fast because he was a ticking time bomb.

“wherever you want toni,” your hands leave his hair so you could move him from your neck and cup his face, giving him a loving look before pulling him into a heated kiss, teeth clashing and lip biting. you slip your tongue into his mouth, swirling around with his while you two moan into each other. with a few sharp thrusts, he’s cumming inside of you. his hips still for a moment, your pussy milking his cock of every last drop of cum. he lets out a weak whimper, body feeling weak as he fucks his cum into you.

you moan, body feeling warm from his body heat along with the fullness of his cock and his cum inside of you. the both of you let out small groans when he’s pulling out, his body still on top of yours. he gives you a soft kiss to your forehead, and you give him a weak smile.

“did so well for me baby. was it okay?” his soft persona was back in full effect now, sitting up so he could help you get cleaned up.

“more than okay, anton”

he gives you a quick kiss before he’s hopping off the bed and finding his clothes on the floor. he puts his boxers on and his pants, then leaves your room quietly to go to the kitchen. When he turns the corner, he’s met with sky. she has headphones in so she doesn't notice him at first, but once she feels his presence she nearly jumps. then her startled face turns into disgust.

“you two are fucking nasty. when i told you to fix things between you two, i didn't mean come here and break the sound barrier.” she rolls her eyes, going back to fixing herself a snack.

“sorry,” an awkward chuckle leaves anton, and he quickly grabs a water out of the refrigerator and leaves the kitchen, slightly embarrassed by the confrontation. he makes his way back down the hall to go to your bathroom, and he rinses his face with cold water, still warm from your little activity just a few minutes ago. he runs one of your washcloths under warm water, and then he’s back in your room to clean you up. sitting down in front of you, he wipes you up in the places you were most sweaty, and then wiping your thighs and carefully wiping up the cum that was dripping out of you. you were still sensitive, wincing at the contact. he helps you sit up, and you run a hand through his hair. you reach over the edge of the bed to grab your hoodie off the floor, slipping it back on. suddenly feeling a little too bare in front of anton since he at least had on a pair of pants.

You admire the boy in front of you. He was the same, but different to you now. a sweet, beautiful boy, who was now all yours. a sweet boy who just fucked you to oblivion. a beautiful boy, who could put up with your attitude. who was weak for you, who would do anything for you. it makes you smile, the most perfect boy liked you and only you. and he was there your whole life, you two just had to figure it out on your own.

“i ran into sky in the kitchen,” his voice was low as he handed you the water he brought, and your eyes widened in shock that your friend was home. you didn’t think she would be home by this time, usually staying out until nighttime at the library before she came home.

“oh god, i didn't know she would be home this early. we’re never going to hear the end of this.” you whine, head in your hands. anton laughs, finding your reaction adorable. as embarrassing as it was to have someone hear you from the outside of your bedroom, he didn't have that much shame. the fact that you were loud enough to disturb the peace in the other room filled him with pride.

“she’ll be okay. this won't be the last time she hears anything come out of this room anyways” he gives you a cheeky grin, and you scoff before slapping his shoulder. who would have thought he would be so dirty?

“don't say that!! we’re gonna have to keep quiet if she’s home,”

“we’ll see about that. you talk a big game but you crumbled the second i put it in” he’s still grinning at you, saying it with such pride and you slap his arm again, face heating up at his words. now you have two things that you’ll never be able to live down.

“you’re sick, lee anton” you whine, and he just laughs before pulling you into a bear hug and laying the two of you onto the pillows. you two get comfortable fast, your back resting against his chest while his arms rest over your body after he pulls the covers over you two

“you like it though” he nuzzles into your neck, spooning you and rubbing soft circles on your stomach under your hoodie.

“maybe just a little”

while spending the rest of the night cuddling, you think that both of your moms were right about setting you two up. you’re suddenly grateful about that surprise ‘blind’ date, and that your mom was right about giving him a chance. laying with him just felt right. and you hope that you can lay with him forever.

A/N: let me know what you guys think !! i kind of half assed the editing, so i apologize if there's any errors + i know the capitalization is a little wacky throughout the fic. i hope you guys enjoyed this fic as much as i enjoyed writing it :)

💋 nav

#anton riize #riize smut #riize x reader #anton imagines #anton smut #anton x reader #riize anton #riize imagines #riize fanfic #riize fluff #lee anton #anton fluff #lee anton x reader #lee anton smut #lee anton fluff #lee anton imagines #toniiswrld #riize

1K notes · View notes

merakiui · 7 months

Text

タコの花嫁。

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, arranged marriage, oviposition, breeding, royalty au note - in an effort to bring peace to two warring sides, you are engaged to the sea queen’s son.

If anyone is to blame for the abysmal diplomacy between the Land and the Sea, it would be your ancestors. Pompous and foolhardy, they thought they could rule the grand seas stretching out from the harbor, beyond weather-worn docks with their rotted, seaweed-strewn planks and briny fetor. The ocean was vast, unexplored territory—a dangerous, deceptive beauty harboring life far beneath unruly waves.

And your ancestors intended to claim it.

Sailors would recount tales of fishfolk—uncanny creatures who looked more marine than the two-legged mammals of the land. They’d raise mugs, each overflowing with ale, in drunken merriment, terrifying themselves with the mysteries of the deep, dark sea.

“It ought to give ya a proper scare straight to Davy Jones himself!” they’d say, voices lowered conspiratorially. “Soon as yer candle goes out and all ya’ve got’s the moon to guide ya… You’ll hear ’em slip through the water if yer listenin’ well enough.”

“You ever go and spy one up close?”

“I’d sooner see the Devil himself and let him keelhaul me before facin’ those cursed beasts!”

“The cut of their jib ain’t so pretty. Enough to give men like us a fright and we’ve seen all sorts of somethin’.”

“Monsters, I say! Monsters!”

Festivals were held to keep these beasts at bay—to prevent them from gathering the courage to creep up onto the land. Every year, during the summer solstice, pits were hollowed on the shore and bordered with stones. Flames licked towards the sky, red-orange fingers clawing for purchase amidst the stars above. Townsfolk would sing and dance late into the eve, bellowing songs passed through the generations. Children would skip up and down the beach, torches in hand, and cry out an old chant: “Fish for you and me are meant to stay in the sea! Should you see one on land, may the Heavens strike it down with a gentle, loving hand!”

Their excitement did well to ward off the fishfolk. Sometimes the lone child would spot one in the distance, peeking out from between the rocks before diving back under in a splash.

On land, humans were safe. On land, the fishfolk couldn’t catch them.

It was different in the sea.

Ships were destroyed in terrible tempests. The waves tossed them around as if they were nothing. Many sailors would find their demise at the bottom of the ocean, torn to shreds with shattered skeletons. Viscerally brutalized, they died with secrets on their tongues—secrets of the strange fishfolk who’d drag them down, down, down to a watery grave.

On one cold February afternoon, the octopus prince was brought into the world. In shadowed fathoms, a grand celebration was held. After so much time—misfortune after misfortune—one fry survived out of the entire clutch. He was round and soft and small, colored blue from exertion and fighting through the tug of the current to reach home. The Sea Queen met him halfway and embraced him, ecstatic tears in her eyes, for a mother’s love is stronger than any political power.

“My little Azul,” she said, stroking a hand along his cheek, “how precious you are.”

No ships were sunk; no lives were lost. It was a peaceful day for both the Land and the Sea. And it would continue to be so in the future. Every year on that same February, it was made a day of peace to honor the little prince.

A day of life, not death.

It was on that same February eleven years later when you were tossed into the frigid depths like a hatchling cast out of its nest. Similarly, your birth had been a wondrous occasion. Your parents brought five boys into the world, each just as adored as the last, but they had been hoping for a daughter. It was a miracle when their fervent wishes were finally granted. You were spoiled as all daughters often are, pampered and doted on by your family and the palace staff.

Your brothers, though protective and caring, were a troublesome and rowdy bunch. Kyffin was the eldest. Two years younger was Emyr, and another two years behind him was Owin. A year younger than him were twins Morcan and Martyn. They picked on you as all immature boys often do when caught up in sibling rivalries, aiming to be the only one their parents see. To prove themselves as the best, the strongest, the wisest.

So it was with a half-cruel heart that Emyr tossed you into the waves from where he stood in the rowboat.

“Only way to learn is with exposure!” he called down to you, watching as you struggled against the push and pull of the sea.

“C-Can’t!” you shouted back, choking on salt and flailing about. “E-Emyr, I can’t—can’t swim!”

“Don’t be silly,” Owin added with a sweet smile. “It’s how we learned. That old sod threw us right in. You’re lucky it’s us and not him. He was awfully mean with it, wasn’t he?”

“Terribly so.” Emyr watched your struggling a moment longer and clicked his tongue. He held the oar out just before you could slip under, and you clung to it with shaky hands. “Come on—let’s get you up here. You’re not gonna get it today.”

“Fin got it on his first try.”

“Fin gets everything on his first bloody try.”

Relieved, your heart pounding like a drum, you peered up at your brothers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get it…”

“Nothing to apologize for. You’ll get it one day.”

“We’ll keep trying until then. And once you do, we’ll throw you a big party.”

“Really? Will you really do that?” Your expression brightened, but your brothers’ faces darkened. They saw the shadow before you did. Saw the webbed hands reaching out, the serrated teeth glinting in a sinister smile.

And then—

Owin leaned over, his arm outstretched. So fluid was his motion that it took you by surprise. “(Name), grab on! Hurry! Before—”

The rest of his warning was muffled by the water. You hardly had any time to brace yourself when you were yanked under, your nails raking across the wood of the oar as you went with the force of the pull. Salt stung your eyes when you cracked them open, peering frantically at blurry surroundings. Teal-green specks slid silently through the shadows, mismatched eyes flicking over your form. And then there was a high, raucous sort of chittering. Like a dolphin’s cry, loud and piercing. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your palms against your ears.

It only lasted a few mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity trapped in the coils of a creature you couldn’t comprehend. One moment you were holding your breath and the next arms were hooked around your torso, and you were pulled up and into the belly of the rowboat. Your hands flew to your throat, and you coughed up seawater while Owin patted you.

“It’s fine. It’s…okay,” Emyr muttered, his voice shot through with fear. It was the most shaken he’d ever sounded.

Blood fogged in the water, staining the tip of his harpoon. He gazed down at his hand. A deep, jagged gash ran angrily from palm to wrist. He hissed and closed his fingers in a tight fist.

“We gotta get back,” Owin was saying, still rubbing soothing circles into your back. “I’ll row. You rest.”

“Not good,” Emyr said instead, shaking his head in dismay as he watched your attackers retreat.

“We’re still in our waters, right? We didn’t go past the boundary, did we?”

“Let’s hope not.”

“We didn’t, right?”

“Let’s hope—” Emyr paused, collecting his words. “Let’s hope those monsters were in the wrong.”

“Father’s gonna kill us.”

“If not us, the monsters.”

Both brothers looked towards you. Your tunic was torn, stained through with saltwater and blood. You shivered all the way to shore.

Following that mishap, an official meeting was called between the Land and the Sea. The King—your father—met the Sea Queen at the border. He stood proud on his ship, peering down at her with fire in his old eyes.

“Your Majesty.”

The Sea Queen was just as formidable as those who came before her. Her tentacles unfurled as one, and if you looked at them long enough they almost seemed to take on the shape of an obsidian-colored crinoline.

“I believe my mother and your father made the terms quite clear all those years ago,” she said, a wave lifting her to meet the King at the deck of his ship. “So then, with that in mind, there should be no reason for us to meet under these circumstances.”

Emyr and Owin stood just behind their father. You peered through their legs at the Sea Queen, silently amazed. You’d never seen anyone quite like her before. At least, not a real person. You’d seen her in storybooks, depicted as a fearsome beast with devilish features, and though there was something intimidating about her gaze and build she appeared understanding enough. Her grey skin was sleek in the morning sun, her long, silvery strands tied up and pinned with an ornate hair ornament. She looked beautiful in a magical, enigmatic way.

“I couldn’t agree more,” came the clipped response of your father. “Alas, misfortune has brought us here.” He stepped aside to allow her to behold Emyr’s bandaged hand. “Harm has befallen my son and daughter. I suppose you might have an inkling as to why they find themselves in their current state?”

She frowned, but you couldn’t tell if it was out of sympathy or some other emotion. “Perhaps one of them can give reason to the wound now marring one of my subject’s sons.”

Your father glanced overboard at the snake-like merman cradled in the arms of another merman. They looked near-identical, their features unmistakable. He glanced back at Emyr, his gaze hard. “Go on then. Explain yourself.”

Emyr stepped forward. “With wholehearted respect, Your Majesty, it was out of self-defense. Your kind—they attacked us first.”

“You were in our waters!” one of the mers exclaimed, pointing a clawed finger towards Emyr. “It’s all your fault Jade got hurt!”

Owin hurried ahead, his hands gripping the taffrail. “He’s playing it up! It was a graze!”

“He could’ve died! You almost killed him!”

“That is enough,” the Sea Queen said, jutting an arm out to silence both sides. “I understand everyone is hurt here. Our feud lies in misunderstanding.” She gazed at you next. “Little one, we have yet to hear your story. Do share.”

You glanced at the guards, at Owin and Emyr, and then at father. He nodded encouragingly. “U-Um!” Shyly, you approached the Sea Queen. “My brothers were teaching me how to swim. I don’t know anything about whose water is whose. I just wanted to learn how to swim.” You met the fierce scowl of the mer holding his twin brother and quickly looked elsewhere. “He grabbed me before my brothers could pull me up.”

“Because you were trespassing. Anyone who tresspasses ought to—”

“Floyd.”

At the not-so-subtle warning in his father’s voice, he shut his mouth and snarled. His brother—Jade—was handed off to their father, who assessed his state with a frown.

“He will live, but it will take time for him to recover. My son is right. Your son could have killed him.”

“Just as your sons could have killed my sister!” Owin shouted, glaring.

Floyd stuck his tongue out, remorseless.

“It is impossible to know which side is in the wrong,” your father began, turning towards the Sea Queen. “Seeing as both have been injured, I am willing to apologize on behalf of my sons.”

“What?!” Owin’s head turned towards his father. “You’re bloody mad! Have you not seen—”

“Father,” Emyr interjected evenly. “We have nothing to apologize for. We were within our waters. We had no ill will towards the others. It was completely innocent.”

The Sea Queen hummed her contemplation. “The boundary was drawn for a reason, decided upon by those who came before us, and yet it does more harm than good. It is not for safety’s sake. It is to keep us divided—to ensure that neither side will ever know peace.”

“And you’re implying that we get rid of it?”

She nodded, quite serious. Everyone looked on in equal parts shock and disbelief. “Why do we continue to fight? It does nothing but open old wounds, rendering them incurable. Innocent lives are lost in petty squabbling. And for what?”

To that, no one could offer a smart reply.

“Therefore I propose peace. A union to welcome a new era—one in which we embrace one another as allies without animosity.”

“A union?” Your father raised a brow, suspicious but willing to listen. “I suppose it would be beneficial. My people would be free to travel the seas at their leisure.” “And mine would no longer have to live in fear of being thoughtlessly slaughtered and taken as trophies.”

“Unbelievable,” Orwin muttered.

Emyr elbowed him. “Knock it off.”

“We’ll collaborate on a contract. One that dissolves the invisible boundary that has been the cause for so much suffering. In order to attain true peace, I shall offer you my only son.” She glanced at you and then back at your father. “Your daughter shall marry him when they are of age.”

“What?! No way! Ew! Gross!” Your voice came out shrill and you shook your head in protest. “I don’t wanna marry an octopus! No, I won’t do it!”

Your father stood in front of you. “She’s my only daughter. If something were to happen—”

“Which is precisely why I bring up this engagement. Should they be betrothed, we as their parents will promise to uphold peace to give them bright futures and they will act as the first example of a human-mer alliance. Unions between humans and merfolk are unheard of, but is this not the best way to foster harmony between the Land and Sea?”

“I won’t do it! No! Don’t make me marry a gross—” Emyr gathered you in his arms, holding his uninjured hand over your mouth.

“Let the grown-ups talk.”

Owin frowned. “I still don’t agree with this…”

Your father mulled it over, his eyes glazed in thought. “Very well. We will create a contract—an official peace treaty.”

Both leaders shook hands and planned to convene at the end of the week to discuss further.

You watched the mers depart, each one slipping under the sea. Floyd was the last to go, staring at you with a mean sort of vitriol. And then he, too, dove under.

“He didn’t mean it, right?” you whispered to Emyr after your father gave the order to turn the ship around and head for land. “I won’t have to marry an octopus, right?”

Emyr could only offer a commiserate frown.

“She’s a brat,” Floyd spits. “Stupid, evil Two Legs.”

Jade chuckles and runs his fingers over the scar. “I consider it an honor.”

“Yeah, well, I think it’s messed up. She’s the reason you can’t ever swim naturally again. While she’s up there in her pretty, little tower, safe and sound, you’re still hurting.”

“It’s not as much of a hindrance as you may think. I’m not weak, mind you.”

Floyd grumbles. “Still. She’s mean.”

Azul gazes up at the palace, sighing dreamily. “She’ll be my wife someday. That’s what humans call it, yes? Husband and wife… What wonderful words.”

It’s been one year since the peace treaty. Since then, humans and merfolk have made an effort to get along. This is the second time Azul will be meeting with you. He’s nervous. The first time you went out to sea to greet him, and he’d gotten so anxious that he inked right then and there. His mother entertained you from where you sat in the boat with your personal guard. It was a mortifying experience—one that had taken him months to recover from.

Now he’s going to try to meet you in the shallows. Try is the key word here. He’s scared, all three hearts beating as one. Is it too late to reschedule?

“I can’t believe you’re actually okay with this. You that lonely?”

Azul turns to scowl at both twins, but it’s mostly directed at Floyd. “I never asked you to tag along. Leave me alone.”

Jade smiles. “And let the Queen’s little prince swim to his death?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can. But what about when Two Legs gets ya? What then?”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

Floyd rolls his eyes. “You saw what her brothers did to Jade.”

“Because you tried to kill her.”

“Because she was in our territory!”

Azul huffs and pushes him away with a tentacle. “Regardless, we’re supposed to be on good terms now. You’ll break the contract if you try anything dangerous.”

“He’s right, Floyd.”

“Ugh. Whatever.” Floyd turns away, stubborn. “This is lame. I’m not stickin’ around.”

Jade lingers long enough to observe the way Azul lights up when he spots you on the stone steps. And then he disappears beneath the water.

Barefoot, holding your dress up and out of the way, you pad across the beach.

“Why are you here? I’m busy. My brothers are taking me into town.”

The smile that had been fighting to break out on his face frosts over. “Oh. I… Um…” Azul fumbles with the conch shell he’d collected on the way here. A gift for you. He made sure to study human speech patterns in the months leading up to this meeting. He’s fully prepared! And yet you look so displeased. “F-For you! I found it…”

You stare at the shell clutched in a dark tentacle. Tentatively, you reach for it. “Why?”

“Ah. W-Well, my mother says gifts are an important part of any bond. In the sea, we give gifts to the ones we care about. To friends and family and o-other halves…”

You turn the shell over in your hands. “We’re not friends.”

“Not yet,” he tries, but you shake your head.

“You ran away from me the last time we met. That’s not very friendly.”

His face flushes blue and he opens his mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. It wasn’t on purpose.

You’re already turning on your heel. “I don’t have time for this.” You toss the shell over your shoulder. Azul watches it land in the sand, just out of his grasp.

“W-Wait! I… I want to talk to you. Please don’t go. You’re going to be my other half one day, so I’d like to—”

But you’re already dashing across the beach to get to the stairs.

Azul deflates against the rock. Tears overflow in floods. Is it because of him? Is he to blame? Why don’t you want to be his friend? Is it because of the peace treaty? Why?

Why? Why? Why?

Azul doesn’t want to think negatively of you. Humans are sensitive creatures. He reads up on them in the palace library, poring over literature and textbooks in an effort to better understand you. But as the months pass and you seem to simply tolerate him for the sake of the alliance, he begins to suspect something.

It’s made apparent the next time he sees you, where you walk right past the beach to catch up with your brothers. He hides behind the rocks, two blue eyes following your figure until you’re out of sight.

Floyd was right. You are a brat.

And yet he can’t hate you.

On the eve of your eighteenth birthday, Azul meets you in the shallows.

Nowadays you send letters, preferring strained long distance over the personal intimacy of face-to-face relations. These exchanges are purely diplomatic. But now that he’s asked to meet with you, a rare occurrence, you’ve deigned to greet him in person. It’s the least you can do after he’s gone through the trouble to travel here. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him that he’s almost unrecognizable. You remember the round, baby-faced octo-mer from your childhood. The one who lounges against the rocks is leaner now—his features defined, jawline as sharp as his eyes. They cut through the gloom to find you.

“You wished to see me?” You’re in your nightwear, a silky gown with an even softer robe. A cool breeze blows across the beach, and you wrap your arms around yourself for extra warmth. “Azul?”

He hesitates, his gaze trailing up your legs. You’ve also changed a lot in the time you’ve been apart. You’ve grown taller, filling out in places he didn’t know humans could fill. What he’d give to hold you… His mother says he needs to be patient. Fickle thing that you are, you’re the reason he’s spent six years trying to appease you through letters—to win you over and be anything more than that “annoying octopus” you’re doomed to marry. Perhaps it would have been easier to act just as you do if it weren’t for the fact that he’d been elated at the premise of having someone to love. When his mother broached the idea in the days following her meeting with the Land King, he’d stared at her with wide, excited eyes.

“There’s a human girl who wants to be my friend?” he asked, to which his mother smiled and nodded.

More than a friend, actually, but then all he was focused on was finally getting to experience the one thing he’d never known or had: friendship.

Sighing, he foregoes formality and holds out a necklace. It dangles from the tip of his tentacle. Strung on a dainty, silver strand, pearls wink back at you under the moonlight. Azul averts his eyes, his cheeks a pleasant periwinkle.

“Happy birthday…”

“Oh.” You move in closer, taking the necklace from him. His tentacle pursues you, twining delicately around your wrist. “Um… What is it? Do you need—whoa!”

Azul tugs you closer. The sea laps at your ankles. Beneath a tapestry of stars, you meet his azure stare. His features are set with a determination you’ve never seen before.

“I want to start over.”

“Start over?”

“I’d like to be on friendly terms with you. We’re so cold. Distant…” Azul frowns, seeming unsure of what to say or do next. The tentacle laced around your wrist like a bracelet tightens its hold. “We’re to be wed one day. I want to make this work.”

You blink at him. He thinks he may have gotten through to you, having finally broken through layers of stone and ice, but then your nose scrunches and odium shimmers in your gaze.

“That’s impossible. I’m a human. How am I supposed to live with an octopus?” You shake him off with a huff. “I’m not sure what our parents think this will accomplish. I don’t want to be a pawn to be moved around for the sake of peace. I’m my own person.”

Azul’s expression sours. His lip curls up into a sneer. “Well, I don’t find it very enjoyable either. You’re not the only victim in this scenario.”

You exhale an exhausted breath. “Azul, I appreciate the gift, but it doesn’t mean anything if you’re only giving it to me to curry favor.”

I wasn’t, he thinks, but he doesn’t say that. Admitting it would be a weakness. Admitting it would mean coming to terms with an unrequited opinion.

“At least one of us is making a conscious effort.”

“At least one of us isn’t trying so hard. It’s pathetic.”

“You’re not obligated to accept my goodwill.” He smiles, smug. “Yet you do every time. I’d wager you enjoy my materialistic affections.”

“As if.” Despite this, you hold the necklace out of his reach when a tentacle flexes towards it. “It’s mine now.”

“So you are fond of my ‘pathetic’ ways!”

“I’m not!”

You jerk away with a vicious scowl, but your foot catches in the sand and you quickly find yourself tipping backwards. If not for the tentacles that coil around your waist to steady you, you would have fallen on your rear. Your chest heaves with adrenaline. Stunned, you stare at Azul.

“You…caught me,” you breathe, lips parted in awe.

“Did you think I’d let you fall?” He cocks his head at you, grinning playfully. “Why, I’d never! Unless it’s me you’re falling for, in which case I gladly welcome the—”

“You’re such a pest.” Untangling yourself from his grasp, which he allows without scrimmage, you step away from the water’s edge. He watches you secure the pearls around your neck, and his hearts stumble in his chest when you point an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t delude yourself with foolish nonsense. I have no interest in you.”

With an indignant harrumph, you start towards the palace.

“May we meet here tomorrow?” Azul calls out after you, testing his luck with what little chance he has.

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Good. Keep waiting, dummy!” You break into a sprint, hurrying off into the shadows.

Azul smiles at the empty beach. Whether or not you like him, it doesn’t matter. You’re to be his one day. You’ve always been, ever since he was eleven.

He’ll wait, even if you won’t show.

Ostensibly, twenty-one years wise, you’re getting married today.

Your gown is just as exquisite as your hair and makeup. Pearls cling to your throat and arms—classic wedding attire for merfolk. A thin veil shields the scheme in your stare.

This was an inevitability, but you’re determined to fight it until the end. No matter how quickly time seems to pass, you’ll do everything you can to stall and slow it.

Gripping a sharpened dagger in a resolute fist, you drag it through the long, sprawling train of your gown.

“As if I’d marry an octopus,” you grumble, cutting fine fabric until you’re permitted smoother movement. Gazing at yourself in the mirror, you scowl. “I’m no one’s bride.”

By the time the maids arrive to check on you, you’ve already stolen out the window.

The rowboat sways on choppy water. You’ve watched your brothers do this enough times to have the technique engraved in your memory. Your arms strain with the oars, every muscle screaming in protest, but you fight through the pain. The palace looks smaller and smaller with every passing minute. Eventually, you’re so far out that the land is but a mere speck.

It’s going well. You’re escaping towards a better future—a future without the octopus prince.

You glance towards the horizon. Your boat undulates with the waves.

You’ll miss your brothers, your maids, your personal guard…

Water slops over the edge. You yelp, startled. Have the seas always been so rough?

Despite everything, you’ll miss your father.

Just as you think this, your boat rocks to the side. You grab onto the edge to steady yourself, but it’s already too late. It tips over and you go with it, careening into the sea with a noisy splash. Twin shadows cut seamlessly through the murky water. You catch sight of a yellow eye before you propel yourself towards the sky, coughing and heaving once you break the surface. You grab onto the overturned rowboat, your dagger clutched in one hand.

You search the surface for them, eyes flicking to and fro in a frantic panic.

Somewhere… Anywhere… Where are you?

And then you find them, peering at you from the other side of the boat.

“Go on then,” you spit, glaring. “Kill me.”

Floyd bares his teeth at you. “This time I ain’t gonna leave a scar.”

“You know we mustn’t. That’s not why we’re here.” Jade smiles at you, but there’s something in his eyes that unnerves you. “Your Highness, you should know it’s poor manners to leave the groom on his special day.”

Floyd circles you restlessly. “S’not fair we gotta be nice when you’re so mean.”

“I’m not going to marry him.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in that matter.”

“What’d Azul ever do to you?”

You attempt to answer that before realizing the truth. Nothing. He’s done absolutely nothing but be kind and understanding and patient. And I took that, chewed it up, and spat in his face.

“If you used that brain of yours, you wouldn’t have thrown yourself to the sharks. We can’t get to you on land.” “But it’s fair game in the sea,” Floyd finishes, every syllable dripping with pride. “Stupid Two Legs.”

“I’m inclined to agree. You’re not the brightest human. A pity.”

“My brother should’ve gutted you when he had the chance. Maybe then—”

You see the whites of Floyd’s eyes when he strikes, launching himself at you with a clawed hand, sharp, pointed teeth aiming for your jugular.

This is it. You’re dead.

…or not.

The searing pain never comes, nor does the impending laceration. You cling to the boat and watch dark tentacles rise from the depths to close around Floyd, ensnaring him in a firm hold. He thrashes, snapping his jaws like a deranged beast.

“Let go of me, Azul! Lemme at her! She’s a bitch! I’ll kill her!”

“There will be none of that.” Azul tuts. “I don’t intend to marry a corpse.”

Jade swims over to you. “My feelings aren’t hurt in the slightest, Your Highness. If it weren’t for your status and connection to Azul, I’d have disemboweled you ages ago. Quite a relief for you, yes?”

You swallow your horror, allowing him to detach you from the boat so that Azul can turn it over. A tentacle curls around your waist, lifts you from the water, and places you back in the boat. You stare at your hands. They’re trembling. You can hardly hold the dagger properly.

It takes some convincing and a lukewarm apology from you, but Floyd promises to be good. He doesn’t do anything as you’re pulled back to shore, but he does stare at you for the duration of the trip, his eyes tracking your every movement. You press yourself into the belly of the boat, defeated and riddled with anxiety.

Your father isn’t pleased. When you see his enraged expression, the debate dies on your tongue. “You are to marry the prince,” he seethes, pulling you aside, “or else you jeopardize the peace of our kingdom.”

You’re washed and fitted in a new dress. Guards are stationed at all possible routes to prevent another escape.

When you walk down the beach to meet Azul in the shallows, your veil shields the sadness in your stare.

The ceremony carries on without incident. Floyd watches from the water, lurking like Death. You speak rehearsed vows in robotic monotone, mindlessly floating through the rigmarole like it’s second nature. Azul smiles at you through it all, sweetly smitten.

It’s a nightmare lived in real time.

Humans and mers alike congratulate you, cheering for this momentous occasion. Your tongue is numb by the end of it all. You’ve expressed faux gratitude so many times that it hurts to even force the words. And now, as night descends and the party kicks into full swing, you’re left reflecting on the day.

Freedom feels so far away. You’ll never know it again, will you?

Azul guides you away from the crowd. Firelight grows dim with the distance. Eventually, you find yourself taking refuge in a tiny inlet cut into the beach. A rocky outcrop hides you from the moon’s spotlight.

“I’m not upset,” Azul murmurs, curling a tentacle up your leg. “But Floyd is.”

“His brother’s the one who hurt me all those years ago.”

“That was before the union.”

“I’m not letting it go.”

“Perhaps not now, but you will. One day.”

You don’t believe him.

“Our people are at peace. Aren’t you pleased, my love?”

You shove him away, gathering heaps of your dress to walk in calf-deep water. “I’m not your love.”

“Legally, you are.”

“That means nothing to me. Absolutely nothing.”

Azul sighs. “Even now, after everything, you’re still trying to flee.”

“For good reason. I don’t want to be tied down.”

Azul inches closer. Another tentacle wraps slyly around your ankle.

“You’re so beautiful. I feel like the luckiest mer in the sea. To be able to call you my own… My beautiful bride.” He pulls you closer. You resist weakly. “Now that we’re alone I can finally tell you the very thing I’ve thought of ceaselessly for years.”

A tentacle slides up your leg, straying closer to your inner thigh. You flinch away.

“Azul, wait. I don’t want—”

“I love you.”

You squirm in his hold, attempting to thwart the tentacles that grab at your every limb. You trip over yourself in the process. This time Azul doesn’t catch you. Water laps at your dress, soaking through at once. He’s radiant beneath the moon. Dreading his touch, you scoot as far from him as you can get in the water, hoping to reach land. Azul seizes your wrist and pulls you into his arms. You fight him with more force.

“No… No, let go of me! Release me!”

“Why should I? You’re mine now. Is it not customary for a married couple to consummate their new bond? We do something similar in the sea.” A tentacle brushes your veil back so that he can look upon your pretty face. “I’d take you to a quiet space in the seagrass, lay you down in the sand, and then—”

“I don’t want that! No!” You lash out, swinging blindly. A tentacle shoots out to stop your arm before it can smack him. “Azul, please—”

“I was patient. I waited and waited in hopes that you might warm up to me. I cherished you in silence. I learned your language. Your customs. Your habits. I wrote to you. Traveled to meet you. And yet you look at me as if I’m a monster…”

It’s not the devastated look in his eyes or the edge in his voice that scares you. It’s the startling gentleness with which he handles you. Tentacles loop around your body, exploring beneath your gown. You wriggle in discomfort, yelping when suckers brush against the frilly garter secured around your thigh. Azul hums and holds you up in his tentacles, using two to spread your legs so that he may slide it from your leg.

“I wasn’t forceful. I courted you kindly. You accepted all of my gifts. You wore them proudly and I thought—I knew you would love me, too. You were mine from the moment our parents signed that agreement. And if you leave me, you’ll break a political promise and then our kingdoms will go to war and I’ll be sure to collect the heads of your family first. Each one of them, and you will watch as I bring ruin to the kingdom you love so fondly.”

“N-No… Please stop. Please.”

“I’ve waited ten years for you.” A tentacle hooks around your panties. You thrash again, shaking your head at him. He remains unconvinced, watching with gleeful eyes as your nudity is revealed to him. “And aren’t you an angel? Oh, you’re so pretty…”

Like your hopes, your panties are cast aside.

The tip of a tentacle prods curiously at your pussy. Your breath hitches.

“W-Wait! You… You can’t.” His eyes find yours, and you swallow the rising sob. “T-That can’t go inside… It won’t fit. It won’t—”

Azul smiles. “Of course it will. The human body is capable of marvelous feats.”

Even though it’s pointless, you struggle. “I can’t! Please… Azul, I’m scared. Please don’t do this…”

A lone tentacle slides into your hand. Thoughtless, you hold tight.

“My love, there’s no need to cry. I’m not going to hurt you.” He brings you closer, kissing your tears away. “I’m here for you. I’ve always been here, even when you didn’t seem to need me.”

You hiccup, your chest heaving. It’s not lonely for long, for he pulls your dress down your shoulders. Your breasts spill free and are quickly cradled in cold hands. Azul watches your expression with an intense focus while he rolls your nipples between his fingers. You grit your teeth, refusing to respond. But then the tentacle between your legs finds your clit and a sucker affixes to it, suctioning slowly. You gasp and throw your head back, bolts of pleasure racing up your spine. It happens in a white-hot flash. You slacken in his grasp.

Azul laughs, astonished. “Did you cum? Already?”

“Nooo,” you whine, closing your hand around the tentacle once more. Another one strokes your cheek. “You’ve had your fun. Now let go of me…”

“What a silly demand.”

He tugs on your nipples. You groan, lashes fluttering. “Ooh… Stop. No, stop it… Don’t touch there. Not—haa… Not there!”

“You’re so sensitive.” He drags the underside of a tentacle along your cunt and shivers. “And so wet… Is this your season? Do humans experience such a thing?”

You’ve no idea what he’s referring to, but before you can dwell on it he leans down to take your perky bud in his mouth. Your free hand grabs at his hair, pinning him to your chest. His tongue laves across it, warm and wet. You shouldn’t enjoy it so much, and yet you can’t stop yourself from crying out.

He hums against your skin, beaming like a devil. You can’t hate him. He’s your husband. He’s yours. You shouldn’t hate him.

You’re falling apart in his tentacles, grinding down to chase the bliss provided by the underside of the appendage clinging to your pussy. The sinful squelch of skin on skin fills the quiet inlet. The scent of sex and salt intermingles. It’s wrong and it’s right. It’s instinct, carnal and corrupt. Azul groans against your breast, your teat between his teeth.

“Az—ooh!” You tug on his hair, insatiable. Your brain is fogging over with lust. You don’t want to lose yourself in this madness. You can’t. “N-No more… No more.”

But he’s not listening. He pinches your other nipple between his fingers, and that’s all it takes for you to unravel.

In the aftermath, the tapered tip of a thicker tentacle squirms between your thighs. Mindlessly, you spread your legs and lift your hips for him. It presses in shallowly, a jarring experience.

“Not inside—don’t! You can’t!”

Azul pulls away from you, his expression scrunched in woozy ecstasy. “Why not?” he mumbles, smiling stupidly. “You’re my bride. It’s only fair…”

Before you can bicker, he kisses you. His tongue pursues yours in a sloppy tango. You lick into his mouth, desperate and dazed. Lost in a sea of salacity, shipwrecked on an island of forgotten inhibitions.

The tentacle pushes through rings of tight, slick muscle. Tears spring to your eyes. It feels weird and foreign, so unlike your fingers. He holds you close, minding his strength and pace. It fills you slowly, reaching places you’ve never been able to feel. The lust numbs your senses and gives way to something animalistic—a base desire you’ve suppressed. Azul rocks the appendage deeper until it’s pushed up against the entrance to your womb, squeezed snugly in your warm walls.

“I-It’s in…” you mumble once he’s broken the kiss, a strand of saliva connecting your mouths. “It’s really…inside me…”

Azul kisses your cheek and pets you with a tentacle. “We were made for each other.”

Surely not, you think, but it feels so when he draws back and thrusts in. Maybe he’s right.

He fucks you gently, savoring every single sound you make. He tells you he loves you, whispers it over and over like it’s prayer. You nod dumbly, grabbing at his hand to hold it. The both of you are gasping in unison, chasing cloud nine. In just a few more deep strokes, his tip bullying its way to your womb, he finally finds his end. A thin substance fills you up in plentiful amounts. Distantly, you think it’s water until he drags your hips further down. Your mouth drops open in a strangled scream as something round and gelatinous passes through. It settles in your womb, and you know right away that it shouldn’t be there.

You panic. “W-Wait… Wha—Zul… Stop… No, I don’t want—”

“It’s all right,” he breathes, his mouth on your shoulder. He soothes you with soft shushes and even softer kisses. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

You dig your nails into the tentacle curled in your palm just as a second orb squeezes through. He groans, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Finally…” He pants, a wobbly smile stretching on his delirious countenance. “Finally, my love, my dear—oh, my beloved bride!”

He cradles you like a mother would a newborn. You lie there as he fills you, your voice hoarse from babbling and bewailing. These things—little orbs of jelly—are stuffed into your womb, and by the time you surpass twenty you lose count and blank out, trembling through yet another orgasm. You’re not sure how many more he has left or how many more you can possibly fit. It feels too good to think about that.

“Bigger. They’ll get bigger. You’ll look so pretty—round and full and soft.”

Dizzy, you glance at the bloated dome that is your belly. Your gown strains over it, an impressively deceptive size that you almost mistake for pregnancy. That’s when it clicks. Eggs. These are eggs.

“I’ll make sure they survive. All of them—as many as I possibly can. I’ll stay by your side. I’ll keep you content. I’ll fill you with love—so much love—an abundance of it, and you’ll never know emptiness again,” he rambles, resting a tentacle over your distended middle.

It’s not just a senseless sweet nothing. It’s a promise.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #yandere azul #n/sfw #tw: noncon #tw: breeding #tw: oviposition

1K notes · View notes

pupkashi · 22 days

Text

cherry blossoms

satoru doesn’t wanna leave you for the japan grand prix, so he flies you out to join him

a/n: hi hi !! here is part two to my f1 au !! this has taken me so long to write i hope you guys like please please please let me know what you think !!! i know the japan gp was so long ago i fell behind in sorry </3 ; lets just act like the plane rides and time zone shifts make sense thank u <3

wordcount - 7,158

part 1 // main masterlist

LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO !

“so you’re going to japan in a couple days then?” you ask, sitting across from the white haired f1 driver, watching as he nods softly, taking one last bite from his steak.

“yeah, it’s my home race so I’m hoping it goes well” he smiles, it was obvious he was nervous for the race. you smile softly at him, “you’ll do great.”

it was like a bubble had engulfed the two of you after you first met, the chaos of the world and academia seemed to settle for the two weeks he had been in town.

“what do you have going on?” he asks you, hooked on what you’d reply with as the gears in his head turned.

“just classes, finally don’t have an exam this week” you cheer, looking up and seeing an unfamiliar look on satoru’s face.

“why don’t you come with me?” he asks, cerulean eyes gleaming at you. satoru is taken back when you laugh softly taking a casual sip from your water when your eyes land on his, stomach dropping when you realize he was serious.

“you’re serious? i can’t ditch classes for a week satoru” you laugh nervously, “i can’t even afford a plane ticket to Japan let alone a hotel and everything that comes with travel” you reason shaking your head.

“I’d pay for everything, don’t be stupid” he says quickly, “cmon just for the weekend then? you skip your Friday lecture all the time anyway what’s one more?”

you think for a second, biting your bottom lip and realizing you’ve only known this guy for the better half of a month. do things always move this quickly in relationships? you cant speak from experience, but before you think too long satoru is reaching across the table and taking your hand in his.

“it’s cherry blossom season and I’d want nothing more than to take you on a picnic under the beautiful trees” his cheeks are akin to those of the trees he mentioned and makes your stomach leap. “cmon you said it was on your bucket list didn’t you?”

you could feel your heart skip a beat, your face must’ve given away your surprise as he grins back at you. he remembered something you’d mentioned in passing? god he was making this harder than it should be.

when else would you get an expenses paid trip to japan and an f1 Grand Prix?

“i need to think about it” you say, his ears perk up and there’s a wide smile on his face that brings his dimples out.

“that’s not a no” he grins, you smile at him shaking your head.

“that’s not a yes either” you correct, squeezing his hand before letting go and finishing off your food.

he doesn’t bring it up for the rest of the night, instead appreciating every moment the two of you spend together, away from public eyes. satoru squeezes your hand a bit tighter, the sky a colorful painting of reds and oranges, a hue of pink blanketing the world around the two of you.

you sat in lecture on monday morning, only half paying attention to what your professor was talking about, messy notes on your tablet as your mind wandered.

what are the odds you miss something important on friday? satoru was right, you were already planning on skipping. satoru, you think, snowy hair and lashes to match, captivating blue eyes; what are the odds you come across him again?

who are you to fight against fate?

‘how much should i pack ? i am a chronic overpacker’ you type out, thumb hovering over the ‘send’ button before taking the leap and tapping it.

youre quick to put your phone on do not disturb and place it back in your pocket, figuring if you’re gonna miss lecture Friday you might as well take better notes now.

satoru was only half paying attention to what his manger was saying over the zoom call, chin resting in the palm of his hand as he listened. his phone lit up with your text, a wide smile immediately making its way onto his face as he grabbed it, reading your message.

“satoru are you paying attention?” his manager asks, slightly annoyed at the driver.

“media when we land, FIA wants me at the conference, tiktoks with george, a couple pre race interviews-” satoru continues to list off everything he’d been told perfectly, all while typing out a reply to you.

“oh could you book me a flight and an extra hotel room? I’m bringing someone this weekend” satoru grins, excited as his assistant nods yes.

satoru cheers, a bright smile into his camera as he waves goodbye to everyone and logs off the team call, finally settling on what to reply to you with.

‘pack as much as you want, I paid for a check in’

he can’t help but giggle, standing up from the table and flopping onto the hotel bed. satoru thought the image of the crushing schoolgirl was always an exaggeration, but the smile on his face and the swinging of his feet made him realize it was 100% true- and he was but a schoolgirl with a crush.

‘you already got me a flight?’

‘duh, wasn’t gonna risk you saying yes and me being unprepared :P’

you were trying your hardest to not smile, biting your lip and focusing on the music in your headphones. the suns rays beating down on you as you walked onto your bus, sitting near the back in case you did end up giggling at a message. (you failed miserably at hiding a smile.)

‘when does your flight leave?’

‘in an hour ish i think’

‘im headed to the airport now actually’

the two of you text the entirety of your bus ride and well after you get home. your phone rang after you’d set it down to focus on your work, satoru’s contact name flashing on the screen as you picked up the phone.

“hello?” you answered, a nervous laugh leaving your lips.

“hey! figured this is easier than texting so that you can do your work and stuff while we talk” satoru had a giant smile on his face, eyes looking out the window of the plane as he talked to you, “is that okay?” nervously bringing his bottom lip between his teeth.

“that’s perfect actually” you chuckle, “how was the airport?”

it didn’t feel like much time had passed since you answered the call, but as you looked out the window and how much work you’d gotten done you realized it been well over four hours. your eyes widened as you checked your phone as saw the length of the call

4:47:56

“oh my god it’s been almost five hours” you laugh, closing your laptop and putting it to charge. “unlike you i don’t have a flight attendant to give me food so” you trail off, realizing you’d forgotten to take out meat to thaw for dinner, takeout it is.

“alright alright, I’ll let you get back to life without me” satoru sighs dramatically, “have fun in the slow lane” he teases.

“oh please you’ll see me on friday” you laugh, “and i do not drive in the slow lane! you’re just used to going too fast in cars” you mumble, thankful he couldn’t see the wide smile on your face and the way you were playing with your hair.

the call went on for a bit longer, there was a pregnant pause between the two of you.

“I can’t wait to see you friday” satoru breathed out, staring at his lap before back out the plane window. everyone else on the small plane had fallen asleep already, trying to get a jump on the time zone shift. he should’ve been asleep hours ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to hang up on you.

“i can’t wait either, my second ever formula one race” you tease, “oh and you’ll be there too!” satoru rolls his eyes at you, smiling.

“haha very funny” his sarcastinf tone makes you grin.

“okay i seriously have to go now, let me know when you land?” you’re not sure of your words, it’s not like you were dating the guy.

“course i will, have a goodnight y/n” he says softly.

“goodnight satoru” you reply, a small smile on your face before hanging up. you’re stuck dumbfounded for a second, laughing before shaking your head, trying to get back to reality and not think about the tall, blue eyed man every moment possible.

lectures always seemed to drag on forever, but this week? eternal. especially on your final thursday lecture. had time always gone this slowly in class? your professors words were not the least bit interesting today, not compared to the thought of getting on a flight to japan for a Motorsport event.

not compared to hanging out with satoru again.

your fingers itched to text satoru, he’d been busy since he landed, with scarce texts sent your way. you didn’t want to seem too clingy, the thought of it scaring him away held you back from double texting him. he’d text you when he could, right?

finally lecture came to an end, you couldn’t help but breath a small sigh of relief as you packed your thing into you backpack and shuffled out with the rest of the class.

as if on cue your phone began to vibrate.

satoru

“hey” you smiled, pressing the phone closer to your ear as you tried to get out of the crowded hallway, going down the stairs and exiting out the side of the building.

“hey! is this a good time?” he asked, fiddling with the hotel duvet, the tv on as background noise.

“yeah i actually just got out of class- isn’t it night time over there?” you interrupt yourself, “shouldn’t you be getting eight hours of sleep or something?”

satoru can’t help but smile at your concern, “it’s only free practice tomorrow morning, just to get a feel of it all” he assures you, “what’re you up to?”

“heading to my bus stop actually! gonna get home and make sure I’ve got everything for my flight” you giggle, a little more bounce in your step as the time for your departure nears.

“do you need me to get you an Uber to the airport?” he questions, rubbing his burning eyes, refusing to give in to his exhaustion. just a couple more minutes, he told himself.

“nah my friend's dropping me off, but how am i getting to the hotel and stuff?” you’re beyond nervous for the whole trip, hands a bit sweaty just thinking about everything that could go wrong.

“I’ve got a driver picking you up, you might be tired so you don’t have to come to the free practices or anything, I’ll see you after they’re done, so maybe sometime in the afternoon” he replies, about to say something else when a yawn cuts him off.

“are you sleepy?” you ask, nearing your bus stop and internally cheering when an empty one arrives at the same time you do.

“just a bit, media was exhausting” he chuckles.

“why don’t you get some rest, we can talk all you want after i land” the words still don’t seem real to you, “you need to get sleep, satoru.”

“only because you keep insisting” he agrees, a dramatic tone in his voice that makes you smile. “goodnight y/n, can’t wait to see you tomorrow” he yawns as he speaks, eyes already fluttering shut.

“goodnight satoru, sweet dreams” you reply, biting back a grin as you hang up, your nerves at bay for now.

you should’ve known satoru booked you a first class seat, but you were still shocked when you sat down in the spacious seat.

‘how much did this ticket cost ????’

you didn’t expect a reply back, he was more than likely already at the race track getting ready for the first free practice.

‘don’t worry about price :) how’s the flight ?’

satoru had to be out in the garage in 30 minutes, his suit only half zipped as he sat in the room waiting for kento to come get him. he can’t help but think about you, how your flight was going, if you were regretting coming.

three sharp knocks on the door have him shooting you one last text ‘have to go :P’ before carelessly setting his phone on the counter and hastily putting the rest of his suit on.

“come in” he sing songs, knowing a familiar blonde headed man would be the one on the other side of the door. the door swings open only a moment after, kento giving satoru a small smile before stealing a piece of candy from his counter.

“you ready?” kento asks him, tossing satoru his gloves. “toto wants you to get a feel of the track, not pushing much this session” satoru nods at his words, following his friend out the door and into the bustling garage.

“alright let’s kick the weekend off!” satoru grins, grabbing his balaclava and helmet before putting them on and hopping behind the wheel.

you felt silly, really you felt like you were back in eighth grade and crushing on the star football player that everyone wanted. you especially felt silly asking you friend for their f1 tv login so you could watch the first free practice.

though satoru didn’t expect you to keep up with formula one and understand exactly how it worked, you’d figure if things were serious enough to fly you out to a different continent, you should at least understand what his greatest passion was. it was a rabbit hole you fell into one night, and multiple videos, google searches and questions to your friend later you had a basic understanding of the motorsport.

by the time you landed the second round of free practice was halfway underway, and as promised a driver was there to greet you and help with your bags.

“mr. gojo has arranged for you to have your own suite in the hotel,” the driver, ijichi, states. “however he has also asked me to give you a keycard to his room as well”, handing you two cards “in case you’d like to stay there instead.”

“oh thank you so much!” you exclaim, “I don’t have to check in or anything?” you ask, looking out the window in awe of the city around you.

“no, everything is set already” he says kindly, “and feel free to order anything for room service, if you’d like to go anywhere when he’s busy you can call my number” he hands you a small business card with a soft smile.

“oh wow thank you so much” you smile, “he really went all out huh.” ijichi smiles at you through the rearview mirror, nodding before focusing on the road again.

the hotel room was much larger and more expensive than you thought. you realized maybe you shouldn’t underestimate just how much money satoru had, and how willing he was to spend it on you.

curiosity got the best of you, setting your things down and walking into the hallway. the large window at the end of the hall caught your attention, your mouth falling agape when you saw just how close to the circuit you were. the cars seemed to fly on the track, and you found yourself looking for satoru’s. after a minute you headed back, finding his room and hesitantly putting the keycard up to the lock, heart racing when it actually unlocked the door.

satoru’s room was about the same as yours, and you could t help but snoop around. there were two beds in his room, whereas yours only had one. the notepad on the table has something written in it, you debated not reading it and minding your business. but you could only stop yourself for so long.

onigiri, strawberry sandos, chips?

the messy handwriting matched satoru's. was he thinking of foods to take on your picnic? the realization made your face heat up and your lips curl into a bashful smile. you stopped a giggle from leaving your lips, composing yourself before heading back to your own room.

your phone buzzed after a couple moments, speak of the devil.

‘just finished wrapping up, did you make it safe?’

you couldn’t stop a giggle from escaping this time, biting your bottom lip before typing out a reply.

‘yup !! just got to my room actually :3’

satoru smiled at his phone at your text, sending you a ‘see you soon then ;)’ before putting it in his pocket. as he exited the paddock a couple fans called out for him, making his step falter and head back to say hello, signing a few things before waving goodbye.

“good luck! we are all rooting for you!” one of them called out, he couldn’t help but smile widely, nodding before walking off. it hadn’t dawned on him really, the fact that it was his first ever home race in formula one. something he’d dreamed of since he first discovered the sport as a child.

he could feel his heart begin to race, hands getting a bit sweaty before he shook the thoughts out of his mind. he let his mind wander as he made the short walk to the hotel, catching himself grinning when he remembered you were waiting for him.

the soft knock on your door made your heart leap, unforeseen nerves surfacing as you thought about being face to face with the famed driver once again. a deep breath later you’re opening the door with a small smile, one that grows when satoru’s expression mirrors your own, growing in size upon seeing you.

“you really came” he breathes out, a relieved laugh leaving his mouth. “for a second i thought you were lying to me and had backed out” the admission made you gasp incredulously, smacking his arm and inviting him into your room.

“you wound me” you quipped back, “i wasn’t gonna leave you hanging, not after all the effort you’ve put into all this” your arms motioning to the room around you. satoru is glad his face a bit flushed from both the free practice and the walk here, or else you’d surely notice the prominent blush on his cheeks and ears.

“did you wanna go out today?” he asks, taking the liberty to sit on the edge of your bed, you’re quick to join him. despite having only known you for under a month, he could tell you were at odds as to what to say. “we can stay in, i know how exhausting flights can be.”

satoru’s toothy smile warmed your heart, his dimples seemed especially prominent today. you let your head rest on his shoulder letting out a small sigh.

“as much as i wanna go out and explore, yeah im exhausted” you chuckled. satoru couldn’t help but smile wider at the physical contact.

“how about we watch some movies and order in?” he suggests, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you down so the two of you were laying on your backs.

you turn to look at him, nodding your head as your eyes traced over his features. his hair was somehow still fluffy, blue eyes softly meeting yours. he couldn’t take his eyes off you, he didn't know someone could look as stunning as you do after a flight.

“sounds perfect” you whisper, eyes briefly landing on his lips before focusing back on his eyes.

satoru excused himself after ordering food, going to shower and change before coming back to your room to join you for the night.

it felt like the two of you were back in a bubble. just you and satoru getting to know each other, feelings growing after every exchanged glance and shared laugh. it didn’t feel like you’d met him three weeks ago, everything about him felt familiar. being with him felt safe, it felt right.

satoru felt it too, and it thrilled him. the warm feeling in his chest anytime he saw you, the way he couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on you a beat longer than normal.

it was during a stolen glance that the two of you caught each other, bursting into a fit of laughter before calming down.

“i thought you were watching the movie” you accused, tone playful as you look at satoru. he was leaning back on his arms, a charming smile on his lips as he cocked his head at your words.

“why should i? you aren’t watching it either” he shot back, smile never faltering as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“yes i am!” you defended, “you’re the one who keeps looking at me” satoru grins, leaning in a bit into your personal space.

satoru was confident and cocky when he wanted to be. but he was never one to make the first move, too scared to mess things up. it was the reason he hadn’t kissed you yet, despite having taken you out on multiple dates. with every centimeter he leaned closer, his heart rate rivaled the speed of it pounding in his chest during a race.

his face was only inches away from yours as he replied back, “too pretty to not look at.” the words have your face hot and heart pounding, your brain all over the place.

thankfully you didn’t have to think about what you wanted to do next. instead you bit the bullet and closed the space between the two of you, lips crashing onto his. satoru was quick to move a hand to cup your cheek, shifting it to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss after a moment.

you let your hands wander, tangling your fingers in his hair before traveling the expanse of his back and finding their way to his chest. pushing gently when you desperately needed a breath of fresh air.

even as you two pulled away your senses were consumed with him. you nose filled with the smell of his cologne and body wash mixed together, making your brain feel even fuzzier than it already was.

satoru was not much better, his mind in a haze as he tried to reel himself back in. the taste of your lips and the feeling of your hands on him stuck in his mind.

the end credits of the movie began to roll, causing the two of you to snap your heads to the screen before looking back at each other and laughing once more.

“i didn’t pay attention at all” you confessed, a shy smile on your face when satoru’s mouth dropped open.

“after you chewed me out for not paying attention!” he gasps, wrapping his arms around you and tackling you back onto the bed, “neither was i” he admits, laughing when you smack his chest.

there’s a moment of silence that blankets the room, a comfortable silence. it’s only broken by satoru’s phone buzzing, making him apologize and grabbing his phone to read the text notification.

suguru geto 11:37 pm

good luck tmrw

you take the opportunity to go to the restroom, coming back to find satoru laying on his back staring blankly at the ceiling. you’re quiet as you join him back in bed, laying next to him and glancing over at him.

“nerves?” you whisper, he gives you a convincing enough nod. satoru was not prepared to lay everything out for you, not tonight.

“first ever home race” he breathes in, sighing after a while before flipping to face you. “glad I’ve got you with me though” he grins. you blush, nodding your head before placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

the second movie was a failure as well, with both of you talking over it (and making out) the entire first half and falling asleep for the second half.

the next morning satoru is up before you, his eyes fluttering open and gaze settling on your sleeping form. he can’t describe the feeling in his chest, the feeling of waking up next to you. it’s something he wants to relive over and over again.

tomorrow, he decides. he’s asking you out tomorrow.

when you wake up there’s a note sitting on your nightstand. it’s satoru’s handwriting, written when he was still half asleep you assume from how messy it is.

left for free practice but I’ll see you at qualifying?? <3 :)

there’s a small doodle of a race car and two stick figures you can only assume are you and him. you can’t help but smile, folding the paper and putting it into your suitcase for safekeeping.

satoru feels good enough after the third free practice, getting out of the car with a smile. he’s quick to take his gear off, heading over to where kento was sitting to go over the strategy they had planned for qualifying.

you decide to head over to the paddock early, beating the crowds for qualifying so you don’t get lost or in the way. before long you’re in the Mercedes garage, with satoru’s assistant smiling at you and waving you over.

“satoru just went to the restroom but he’ll be back soon! you can wait here in his room” she opens the door and you thank her softly, looking around before taking a seat.

the door swings open, with satoru’s eyes seemings glowing with joy as he spots you.

“you’re here early! i didn’t think I’d see you until after qualis” he grins. you can’t help but be in awe of satoru in his racing suit, with the fireproofs hugging his body perfectly. as much as you try to not focus on how perfectly sculpted he is, you can’t keep your eyes off him. “hey now my eyes are up here” he teases, putting a finger underneath your chin and gently pushing it upwards.

“dunno what you’re talking about” you smile, “been looking at those pretty eyes this whole time.” satoru’s skin flushes, a smile on his lips before he’s pressing them onto yours, giggling into the kiss before pulling away.

“well now that you’re here do you want a tour?” you’re quick to nod yes, making his smile widen as he takes your hand in his and walks you out of the room.

satoru begins pointing and explaining everything, going into detail about more important things and how they contribute to the race. there’s movement all around you, with satoru speaking quite loudly so you can hear over the chaos of everyone prepping things before qualifying.

there’s a sparkle in his eye as he explains what the engineers do, his hands moving expressively as he looks at you, excited to see you’re paying attention to him still. “this is obviously the car, usually there’s more work being done around it but since we can’t make changes anymore it gets some time alone” he jokes, making you giggle as he takes your hand again, leading you out into the sunlight.

“so this is the pit lane, where the pit stops happen” he rambles on about pit stops for a second, pointing across the lane where the race engineers sit and explaining quickly how they communicate with him during the race.

satoru also explains to you what qualifying is all about, make it in the top 15 in Q1, then top 10 in Q2 then as best as you can in in Q3.

before long you’re wishing satoru luck, squeezing his hands and placing a kiss on his cheek. you head up to the seating area you’d been told and watch as he puts his helmet on before getting in the car, people surrounding him as they talk about god knows what.

soon enough he’s exiting the garage and into the pit lane, the first round of qualifying fast underway. he’s one of the last ones to set a time, landing himself in P14, a fact that made your palms sweat, knowing if he’d been a couple seconds slower he would’ve been out.

by the start of Q2 satoru pulls himself together, mind focusing only on the track and the car. he lands himself in P8, talking to the race engineers and tweaking his strategy to try and improve before the final round.

your fingers are crossed when he heads out for the final round of qualifying, bottom lip between your teeth as he pushes on his final attempt for a better starting position.

“and satoru gojo manages to land himself in P5! a rocky start to todays qualifying for the rookie but it seems as though he’s ready to take on his first ever home race” the commentator speaks.

you can’t help but cheer along with the others in the garage, beyond excited and proud of satoru as you join them outside to watch him pull into the assigned position.

it’s a sight to behold as he gets out of the car, pulling his baclava off his head with an open mouth smile. he finds you in the crowd almost instantly, winking at you before going to do his post race duties.

you wait for him in the garage, smiling when he finds you with a smile on his face.

“i told you you’d be amazing” you praise, letting him pull you into a hug despite being quite sweaty. “are you done for the day?”

satoru shakes his head, “not yet, I’ve got some media stuff and a debrief to go over data from right now” he sighs. “you can head back to the hotel and we can get dinner when I’m done?” he grins as you agree, saying goodbye to you before heading back into the garage.

true to his word satoru takes you out to dinner, treating you to only the best food as you two talk about anything and everything. you try and coax him into heading back early, but he refuses, taking your hand and pulling you through the city.

after two hours in the city satoru finally agreed to head back to the hotel, fingers interlocked with yours as you swung your arm back and forth with his.

“you’re nervous again” it comes out as more of a statement than a question. satoru sighs, staring at the sky while the two of you sit on a bench near the hotel.

“i don’t want to disappoint anyone, you know?” his voice is a bit shaky, “everyone has such high expectations of me because of how I’ve been doing and it’s getting to me a bit i guess” he changes his focus from a drifting cloud to picking at his nails, leg bouncing a bit.

“you’re going to do great out there” your hand makes its way to his thigh, squeezing reassuringly before taking his hands in yours. “and even if everything goes wrong and you get dead last you’ll still be my favorite driver,” satoru can’t help but smile, shaking his head and looking at you.

you end up staying in satoru’s room that night, despite your protests. he left you no choice when he grabbed your room keycard and held it above his head. you voiced your fear of getting in the way of whatever pre race rituals he does, to which he simply giggled and kissed you.

“i think cuddling can be a new pre race ritual of mine instead” he had replied, a coy smile on his face when you gave in and got into bed with him.

the next morning is a whirlwind as you head to the paddock with satoru. the two of you entering through a lesser used gate, one moment you were wishing him luck and kissing him on the cheek, the next he was already out of the garage and behind a Red Bull in the formation lap.

you help your breath as the five lights went out, watching on the edge of your seat as all 20 cars reacted quickly, fighting to get to the front.

“and the rookie tries to get the inside line on piastri but is unable to! pushed down to 7th place as alonso and norris over take him.” you let out a sigh as you listen to the commentator.

satoru stays in seventh for the better half of the race, managing to exit the pits before the mclaren in 6th and taking his spot. satoru is gains on alonso after a while, enabling DRS on a straight and managing to overtake him just before the turn.

a cheer erupts in the garage, with you nervously clapping as you stare at the monitor, a smile on your face as he fights to catch up to Ferrari ahead of him. soon enough he’s right behind him on a turn, pushing just enough to manage to get the inside line and successfully pass leclerc, putting himself in 4th place.

one more place for podium, you think. there was only a slight moment of peace when the standings were consistent for a good couple of laps, until satoru was close enough to 3rd to finally overtake them. the garage claps as he gained on the red bull in second place, with only a handful of laps left the chance of moving up a place was becoming slimmer.

“and we are in the final lap, with satoru gojo alarmingly close to Perez, could the rookie manage to snag second place in his first home race?”

“it seems like he might- he has DRS enabled and it pushing to pass Perez and he’s going to do it!” your mouth is agape in shock before you begin to cheer, smiling widely as he races by the checkered flag.

you can hear satoru cheering through the radio, the sound makes your heart grow warm. the entire garage is cheering, with everyone hugging each other and celebrating his success. everyone moves outside to greet satoru behind the barricades, with him throwing himself into his mechanics before even taking off his helmet.

when he finally does take his helmet off he’s looking for you, smiling widely when his blue eyes meet yours. he gets weighed and interviewed quickly, excitement over flowing as he answers questions with a giddy smile on his face the entire time.

as the podium ceremony begins you smile softly when satoru walks out, the crowd cheering loudly for their countryman as he waves. he finds you in the crowd again during the Dutch national anthem, sending you a wink as he claps when it ends.

the crowd cheers louder for him as he gets handed his trophy, holding it up proudly before setting it down as the celebratory music plays, being showered in champagne by the two Red Bull racers before he gets the chance to even pop his open.

when you see him again he’s pulling you in by the waist, smiling happily when you press your lips to his. he tastes like the champagne he was dripping in, the two of you are smiling into the kiss, giggling by the time you pull away.

“see? you had no reason to worry” you say, satoru smiles at you, his attention fully fixed on you. “my favorite driver” you grin, pressing another kiss to his cheek. it takes everything in him to not just ask you out then and there, not wanting to spend another moment with the thought of you never joining him again.

his name being called stops him, and he’s snapped back into reality.

“I’ve got some interviews i need to do and some stuff to make and film- but how does a picnic sound?” he asks.

“sounds perfect” you reply, “now go before they ban me for being too distracting” you push him softly, making him laugh before he’s giving you one last kiss, heading over to the social media coordinator.

it’s astounding to you the difference in demeanor satoru has now, sitting next to you atop a picnic blanket, compared to how he was during the race. the usual sure footed and confident formula one driver is gone, replaced by a nervous and bashful version of him.

“thank you for bringing me” you say, ending the beat of silence. “and thank you for the food too, it was really good,” you smile, relieved to see satoru smile back at you, slowly growing in confidence once again.

“i did tell you the convenience store was the right move” he quips, nudging your shoulder with his own.

“convenient, some would even say” you retort, giggling when he rolls his eyes and acts as if he’s scooting away from you. “you fly me out to japan just to scoot away from me?” you gasp, your lips turning upwards when satoru turns his back to you with a smile. “you know i think max might be my favorite driver” you say, laughing when he immediately snaps to face you with furrowed brows and a scowl on his face.

“that is so not fair!” he cries out, tackling you with a hug that causes both of you to fall backwards on the blanket. “take it back! say I’m your favorite!” he can’t help the smile on his face while he’s looking at you, hair a mess against the blanket.

“okay, okay you’re still my favorite driver” you admit, biting back a smile when you see how much his face lights up at your words. the spring breeze hits the two of you as you sit back up, cherry blossom petals falling around the two of you against a sky painted pinks and reds to match.

“i really like you” satoru blurts out, his gaze switching between his fidgeting hands and your face. you’re tempted to make a witty remark, something about you’d hope so after three week, but you hold your tongue.

“i didn’t think I’d find something serious, i wasn’t really- it wasn’t something high on my priority list you know?” he lets out a breathy laugh. “i told myself i was only gonna focus on driving, getting better and being the best, no time for anything else, no distractions,” you’re watching him intently, trying to read his facial expression when he’s looking at you.

was he breaking up with you? or was he-

“but you’re not a distraction, and i want to make time for you” his blue eyes are locked on yours now, no hints of uncertainty in his voice as he continues. “i want to be with you more than anything else; be by your side, have you cheering me on and celebrating after you pass exams, be able to just talk with you” he smiles.

“will you be mine?” satoru finally asks.

there’s a million thoughts in your head as you process his words, hundreds of reasons why you should say yes and thousands of what if’s. what about his schedule? and how much he travels and time zones and stress and school and-

there’s another gust of wind that causes more cherry blossoms to fall from the sky, landing over the two of you. you can hear a bird singing and you wonder if the universe itself is rooting for the two of you. a blossom falls perfectly on your face, landing on your cheek, it makes you smile.

“yes” your cheeks hurt from the smile on your face as you wrapped your arms around him, “of course yes!”

satoru meets your gaze with equal happiness as his arms immediately wrapped around you, squeezing your tightly. he lets out a sigh of relief, a wide smile on his face as he peppers your face with kisses. the two of you radiate the epitome of romance as you’re in each others embrace, with hearts practically forming as the two of you look at each other.

the night is spent in each others arms, giggles and dumb conversations filling the hotel room until late into the night. silly anecdotes and surprisingly deep questions keep the two of you from falling asleep, even when you both admit to your eyes burning from exhaustion.

“i don’t wanna go to sleep yet” he whispers, “because then it’s less time with you before your flight” the sadness in his voice is evident, and your tone mirrors it when you respond.

“me either” you sigh, one hand brushing the snowy hair out his his eyes and exposing his forehead a bit, “but then we’re both going to exhausted tomorrow” a small smile on your lips when satoru chuckles softly.

“yeah you’re right” he yawns, scooting closer to you before speaking up, “still can’t believe i won.”

“second place in your first year driving is an insane win” you agree, “you’re so talented, I’m so proud of you.” the words hit closer to his heart than satoru anticipated, breath hitching n his throat as he quickly regains composure and smiles.

“oh that too” he nods, “but i was talking about you being my partner” even as he utters the sentence he can’t help but get giddy, heart flipping as he watches a smile fight its way into your lips.

“you’ve had a great day haven’t you?” you ask with a smile, laughing when he nods happily in response.

the next morning both of you are beyond exhausted, a consequence of sleeping a mere four hours. neither of you regret it, only laughing it off as the two of you pack your bags up.

satoru would be heading back to his house in Monaco for the by-week before heading to shanghai for the chinese grand prix. you’d be heading back to your apartment for university and trying to catch up on work you could’ve been doing the entire weekend; you don’t worry about that yet, not when you have a 6’3 formula one driver by your side as you head to the airport.

“you’ll call me when you land?” he asks, a pout on his lips despite your nodding. “I’m gonna miss you so much” he sighs, pulling you into him by the waist and crashing his lips to yours.

you pull away after a moment, chasing his lips with a quick peck before sighing. “me too” you frown, “but we’ll call and text right?” the thousands of what if’s flood your mind as you look up at him, eyes frantically searching his face.

“you’re gonna be annoyed of me texting you” he smiles, kissing your cheek and extending out his pinky, “i pinky promise to call and text.”

you smile widely at his gesture, linking your pinky with his and shaking it softly, “i pinky promise to call and text.” satoru beams down at you, kissing you one last time.

you had barely sat down at your gate when your phone buzzed, a bashful smile on your face as you read the notification.

satoru <3

‘hi :3’

two what if’s were loudest in your head as you typed out your responsed; what if it worked out? what if it really was meant to be?

taglist: @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi @kentocalls @sadmonke @cactisjuice @thewondrousdreamer @beaniebaby12 @kenmacantakemeaway

437 notes · View notes

kira-dofc · 2 months

Text

Gojo and Geto x Nerd! Male reader

Notes: Currently experiencing writers' block, so this is js a random hc I made for these two 😔 I live for possessive Gojo and Geto, so I gave you all what I wanted 💖 also ik I said no threesome, but this is an exemption I had nothing to post I'm desperate (Also I live for these two men) 😔

Word Count: I don't know

Warnings: Smut! Threesome, High-school au, double pen, bathroom sex, unprotected sex, double stimulation, overstimulation, smutty smut smut

It was mid-afternoon, with the golden hues of the setting sun beginning to paint the sky outside. Inside the classroom, the atmosphere was thick with the quiet concentration of students engrossed in their quizzes. You tapped your pencil rhythmically against the desk, your eyes flitting over the questions. Though your mind wandered, you effortlessly penned down the answers, the quiz more a formality than a challenge for someone of your intellect. The questions, simple as a child's puzzle, felt like an exercise in tedium rather than a true test of knowledge.

The soft orange rays filtered through the tall windows, casting a warm glow that danced across the rows of desks and illuminated the faces of your classmates. The air-conditioning, a gentle whisper against your skin, provided a cool contrast to the warmth of the sunlight. The chill of the conditioned air brushed over your skin, a subtle reminder of the modern comforts that cocooned you in this academic fortress.

You were well-known in the school, not just for your academic prowess, but also for the silent feud with your two sworn enemies, Gojo and Geto. These two were the epitome of what it meant to be popular and untouchable. Their presence was a constant irritant, a source of countless headaches. With their charm and seemingly effortless charisma, they could sway teachers and students alike, getting away with behavior that would land anyone else in detention. It was an infuriating dynamic, made worse by your desire to stand out in a different way, to impress the girl in your class who occupied your thoughts more often than you'd like to admit.

The room was silent, save for the faint scratching of pencils on paper, when suddenly the door swung open with a force that sent a shiver through the classroom. The abrupt interruption shattered the calm, drawing all eyes to the doorway. There stood Gojo, his white hair almost glowing in the afternoon light, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. "Excuse me, where is Y/n?" he called out, his voice carrying a casual authority that silenced the room.

Every head turned toward you, the air thick with curiosity and a touch of apprehension. You felt a flush of heat rise to your cheeks, the attention unwelcome and uncomfortable. Trying to maintain your composure, you stood and made your way to the front of the room. The teacher gave a curt nod, granting permission for the interruption. You met Gojo's gaze, your eyes narrowing in annoyance.

"Come with me," Gojo said, his tone leaving no room for argument. Before you could respond, he grabbed your hand and began to pull you toward the hallway. "H-hey, what are you doing?!" you exclaimed, stumbling slightly as you tried to keep pace with him. His grip was firm, and despite your protests, he continued to lead you through the corridors, his expression a mix of seriousness and something unreadable.

The hallway was cooler, the air-conditioning more pronounced here, as Gojo steered you toward the bathrooms. As you rounded the corner, you saw Geto leaning casually against the wall, his arms crossed, a lazy smile on his face. The scene felt almost surreal, like stepping into a different world, far removed from the quiet confines of the classroom. The afternoon light, filtered through narrow windows, cast long shadows that added an edge of drama to the encounter.

"What do you want now?" you scoffed, planting your hands firmly on your hips in a defiant gesture. The air was thick with tension, the echoes of your classmates' hushed whispers still lingering in your mind. Gojo, ever the instigator, exchanged a knowing glance with Geto, who stood up straight, a smirk playing on his lips. "Gojo, do it," Geto commanded, his voice calm and almost bored.

Before you could react, Gojo's grip tightened around your wrist, and his other hand quickly muffled any protest you might have voiced. "Don't make this any harder for us and be a good boy for us two, yeah?" he whispered in your ear, his voice low and husky, sending an unsettling shiver down your spine. The vibration of his words seemed to resonate within you, leaving you no choice but to comply. You followed them into the bathroom, the fluorescent lights casting a harsh, cold glow over the tiled walls and floor.

Geto positioned himself in front of you, his eyes glinting with a predatory gleam as he reached out, his fingers tracing the lines of your face before moving to your hair. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead with a softness that contrasted starkly with the firm grip Gojo still maintained on you. "Be a good boy, and we won't punish you as much," Geto murmured, his breath warm against your skin, his lips curving into a smirk that sent a jolt of anxiety through you. He then kissed your neck, the sensation both tender and electrifying, before biting down gently, marking you with a small bruise that felt like a brand.

The bathroom stall became a confined world of its own, filled with the sounds of labored breathing and the rustling of clothing. You found yourself straddling Geto, his body beneath you a solid, unyielding presence. Gojo stood before you, his hands deft and experienced as they explored your body, heightening your senses with each touch. The air was thick with the mingling scents of sweat and arousal, creating a heady, intoxicating atmosphere. They were both thrusting in and out of you, leaving out grunts and whimpers with every thrust. Gojo panted as he played with your dick, twitching every time he touched the tip, slick in precum. He then stroked lazily, seemingly trying to focus on how your hole sucked both Geto's and his dick so good. You moaned, "Gojo...." your hands covering your mouth as you bent your back, resting your head in Geto's shoulders. Your skin rubbing against Geto's make you feel good, too. The way he moans and groans through your skin as it vibrates. The two cocks inside you kept pulsing, making you let out louder moans.

The rhythm of their movements became more intense, your senses flooded with the heat and pressure building within you. Time seemed to stretch, the moments blending together as you lost yourself in the raw physicality of the encounter. Your body trembled with each thrust, your voice rising in pitch as the pleasure mounted, the walls of the bathroom stall echoing your cries.

You three were there for almost 1 hour and 30 minutes, your hole now stretched and burning. Their precum now used as lub as it slid through your wet walls. Your muffled moans turned to echoed ones every time they hit your sweet spot. They soon came inside of you, wetting and knotting your walls as you screathed the back of Gojo. Endless streams of semen flowed through your tired hole as you hugged Gojo tightly. Gojo then let out his cock as it rested to your stomack, painting it white. Geto, on the other hand, stayed inside you after his organs, making your stomach flutter in pleasure. You then heard the two panting as you yourself came. Gojo placing his hand behind your back, and Geto kissing your neck and giving soft bites. Your body aches, everything aches, "You took us so well, baby." Gojo flirted as he huffed in front of you. The bell soon rang, and suddenly, you blacked out after your orgasm.

948 notes · View notes

kyri45 · 2 months

Text

PREV / ALL / NEXT / FIRST (ISAT Sky: Cotl!AU!)

This chapter is 99% silliness omfg those two have the brain of orange cats.

For those not familiar with sky terminology, a moth is an affectionate term the community use to call new player, since they are still very bad at flying, mostly flaps instead of gliding, have the default brown cape, and follows the winged lights everywhere

also GO BONNIE TAKE YOUR BLESSING! NOT GONNA SAY WHAT IT IS BUT JUST YOU KNOW THAT IT’S WHAT THEY DESERVE!!! (Siffrin is in pain like always)

#my art #kyri45 #isat sky cotl au #isat scotl au #in stars and time #sky cotl #sky children of the light #isat siffrin #isat fanart #isat mirabelle #isat isabeau #isat odile #isat bonnie #isat sky:cotl!au

460 notes · View notes

hom3landr · 2 months

Text

Pain au Chocolat

Bakerverse

18+

Much to Homelander’s surprise, a sleepy morning proves that maybe there’s more to you than meets the eye

CW: mild somnophilia, Stormfront

Homelander’s eyes blink open lazily. Your room is still dark and the glint of orange he’d normally spy on the horizon is hidden by clouds. The bed is toasty from shared heat but the air outside the soft blankets is nippy. The storm is through but Homelander can hear the soft pattering of drizzle against the window. Homelander contemplates rising for a moment but instead he snuggles deeper under the covers and wraps an arm around your waist to tug you closer. You make a soft noise in your sleep but otherwise you don’t stir. He gives a tiny squeeze just for good measure. He likes feeling the soft give of you against him.

It had been a true terror of a storm the night before. The lightning split the sky like holy fire and he, god that he was, felt truly divine as he flew through the maze of bolts. He knew exactly where he’d find you when he arrived, waiting for him at your kitchen window. The same way you have for every bad storm that disturbs your peace. You wait for him and he wraps the two of you in blankets while he holds you through your panic. Storms are not as satisfying to watch indoors but he’ll sacrifice the view for the chance to hold you close. He’s willing to indulge in your quirks even if he still thinks you’re being ridiculous.

You hadn’t asked him to stay during storms and ordinarily he wouldn’t because why should he have to? But it feels right to care for you and be your hero. He wants to be your hero so badly.

You’d fallen asleep on him on the couch like you always do. He carried you to your bed like he always does. He slid in after you in the sweatpants you always let him borrow. It didn’t take long for him to follow you into dreams because it never does.

He doesn’t have nightmares when he sleeps with you. Your apartment smells nothing like the tower. It smells like sugar and old brick, earthy and sweet. He can close his eyes and all the worries of Vought just slip from his mind like water off a stone. He could take you to his penthouse when it storms. You wouldn’t even have to commute in the rain. But there’s something sacred about you willingly allowing him in your space. So he comes to you instead. It’s his only break from all the noise in his head. It’s the only time the past doesn’t hang over him like a dark shadow.

You also seem to rest better when he’s here. No more anxious baking into the wee hours of the morning, you practically become Sleeping Beauty the moment he lets you lay against him. You still feel safe with him despite everything…or maybe you’re just stupid.

He likes to think it’s because you’re in love.

He watches you sleep. You look so peaceful and serene in his arms. He nuzzles in close and presses featherlight kisses to your temple. You hum in your sleep but you remain deep in dreams. His hands travel up your sides. His thumb barely brushes against the undersides of your breasts and he’s suddenly extremely aware of the morning wood currently tenting his pants. It’s a lot harder to hide his boners from you when he doesn’t have his cup. But at the moment you’re sound asleep so he indulges himself with a slow grind against your ass. Subconsciously you must be aware of what he’s doing because your hips push back into his even though you don’t wake. His hands roam back down so he can grip your hips and roll them into a rhythm that makes his eyes roll back in his head. He resumes his kisses.

BEEPBEEPBEEP

He growls at the sudden tinny jingle that cuts through the peace, eyes glowing briefly as he barely restrains himself from lasering your phone in half. You groan loudly and blindly swipe around until you grab your phone from the bedside table. You hit the snooze button and ungraciously drop the phone onto the bed beside you. Homelander shifts away subtly, hoping to hide the way he was using you. You bury your face fully in your pillow with a huff and Homelander breathes a sigh of relief that you don’t notice. He rubs your back with a chuckle, ignoring the angry throb of his cock.

“Wakey wakey!” He practically sings to you and you grumpily mumble something unintelligible into the pillow. He loves how much you hate mornings. He’s addicted to these new edges you’ve begun to reveal ever since the fiasco where he tried to take you flying. It’s like there was an invisible wall between you he wasn’t aware of. He remembers how hard you fought in the air. He can respect it now in a way he was unable to then.

You’re practically scrappy.

You don’t make any attempt to move so he chuckles and grabs your hips to flip you like a pancake. You glare at him and your nose scrunches just the tiniest bit. He barely resists the urge to kiss it. He has to try even harder not to kiss your pout.

“I’m not going in. I’m sick.” You cough pathetically and he rolls his eyes. Fat chance he’s going to let you out of work with such a pathetic excuse. He knows you know that he knows you’re perfectly healthy.

“You’re sick?” He hums with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t even know if I have the strength to get out of bed.” You whine. You try to sit up only to collapse pathetically back into the pillows with a sigh and a bat of your eyelashes.

His cock twitches.

He leans over you and presses a firm lingering kiss to your forehead. You jolt and the warm fragrant heat that floods your veins makes him groan. Still so easy to fluster even with all your newfound cheekiness.

“You don’t feel like you’re running a fever.” He replies cockily against your temple. You huff and cross your arms. He’s deeply amused by your petulant act and getting a rare deep sleep has him feeling lazy and mischievous. He shifts to whisper in your ear. “Of course…there’s another place I can use to check your temperature.”

He gives your ass a quick pinch and you shriek as he erupts into laughter.

“That’s not necessary!” You squeak shyly, feathers all ruffled.

Your scandalized gaze isn’t enough to hide from him how excited you got by the suggestion. Maybe that’s something worth circling back around to. His amused giggles taper off as he looks at you fondly.

“If I’m going in then you have to as well. I need you there with me.” His voice softens as he reaches out to cup your cheek. He relishes the heat of you against his bare palm. Your eyes widen at his sincere confession and his vulnerability disarms your previous huffy playfulness. He can hear your heartbeat speed up as you nuzzle into his touch. Briefly an image of him snuggling into Madelyn’s dishonest touch flickers through his mind and he hastily discards it before the turning of his stomach ruins his good mood. He inhales deeply and the scent of you chases her ghost away.

“You need me?” You reply quietly, gazing at him softly as he strokes your cheek with his thumb.

“Always.” He answers, voice tender. The air crackles with charged energy that’s far from the lighthearted teasing only moments earlier. There’s an unspoken shift in the air as your gaze dips to his lips. He swallows thickly and leans in slightly.

“I guess it would be cruel of me to stay home then.” You whisper.

“I don’t think I could handle it.” He replies with a whisper to match yours.

You hum before shifting to press a sweet tentative kiss to his lips. He groans lowly and his hand on your cheek moves to grip the back of your neck, holding you steady while he deepens the kiss instantly. In the cozy haze of the morning he forgets to behave and keep his kisses gentlemanly. You genuinely surprise him by meeting him with equal passion, slinging one arm around his shoulder and pressing your body eagerly to his. Your breasts press into his chest and he nips at your bottom lip as his cock twitches under the loose fabric of the sweatpants. It’s impossible to hide the tent in the fabric but you’re too busy kissing him to notice. Your mouth opens easily at the press of his tongue. You react so quickly that it’s almost like you’d been waiting desperately for this very moment. This is the boldest he’s ever been with you and he’s relieved that you are bold in return.

The intensity of his kiss causes you to lay back on the bed. Homelander follows without a hitch, tasting as much of you as he can. He licks into your mouth as he crawls over you. You whine at the feeling of his hard cock pressed into your stomach but before he can put together an apology, you hook one leg around his hip to keep him in place. His cock twitches again and you must feel it because you let out a moan that he quickly swallows. The scent of your desire is so thick and heady that it makes him lightheaded. He trails a hand under your oversized sleep t-shirt to grip your hip as he grinds into you. It’s happening so fast that the disciplined part of him doesn’t even have time to react. Besides, you initiated. You want this. He is being good. It’s not his fault that you kissed him while he was half unclothed in the haven of your bed.

Your hand tentatively travels down his chest, scratching lightly at the hair there. He huffs at the tickle of it and when your thumb brushes his hard nipple he shudders. You pause and he can practically hear the gears turn into your head. Your caresses are just as light and careful as he imagined as you intentionally run your thumb over his nipple. He bucks into the soft swell of your stomach.

He shifts only slightly but it’s enough for him to slot a thigh between your legs. You gasp brokenly and your body goes still for a moment. He pauses his kisses, concerned now that he pushed it too far. But before his concern can evolve into anxiety, you slowly start to grind against him. Your breathy little pants make him throb as he watches you establish a rhythm. He uses the hand on your hip to guide you, wanting to feel helpful in your pursuit of pleasure. He can feel the wet heat of you plastering his sweatpants to his thigh. You’re drenched and the brown sugar scent of you has him slavering like a hungry wolf. He nips at your neck where he can hear your pulse beating loudly, intoxicated by the way he can feel the flutter of it against his lips

You sigh his name sweetly and something inside him snaps. He breaks the kiss only to bury his face in the crook of your neck as he shudders and makes a mess of his borrowed sweatpants. His hips roll lewdly against you as he rides out his orgasm. Your hand buries in his hair as you press heated kisses against his temple. A combination of satisfied pleasure and intense embarrassment from blowing his load like a teen boy jacking it to porn for the first time floods his body and he mewls softly into your skin. You lightly pet his hair while he shivers

He can already feel the flustered apology on the tip of his tongue but before he can verbalize his shame, your snooze alarm goes off again. He growls and rolls off of you, secretly grateful to avoid the opportunity to address his mess. He gathers the sheets around his waist so you don’t see the dark stain on the front of his pants. Although he wouldn’t mind you seeing the wet spot you left on his thigh. You don’t show any sign you noticed him come just from a little dry humping. You’re too busy angrily poking at your phone as you turn off the alarm. His exhausted cock aches at the way your lips have swelled from his kisses. Your nipples are poking at the thin material of your sleep shirt. He can feel himself already hardening, eager for another round. He shimmies off his sticky sweatpants under the covers and kicks them to the floor. His eagerness is dampened as you climb out of bed.

“You should call in sick and stay with me.” He calls out after you as you start to shuffle through the clothes in your closet. It fills him with a not insignificant amount of pride at the shakiness of your legs, all wobbly like a baby deer. You scoff lightly but there’s no bravado to it. You seem a little bit shell shocked from having your pleasure interrupted so rudely. He wants to push you against the wall and finger you till you’re screaming to balance out the tables a little bit. Now that he’s seen what you look like all flustered and aroused from grinding like a teenager in the back of a car, he just knows you’ll be pretty as a picture when you come.

“I can’t. I’m not running a temperature.” You turn around to grin at him, cheeks still flaming as you peek shyly through your lashes. With how eagerly you pounced on him and rode his thigh, he’s beginning to wonder if your nervous disposition was related to sex at all. Maybe you are just shy. He isn’t sure but he’s excited to find out.

Not right now though.

He can’t take off so easily, not with a grand total of three tv ads he’s contracted to film today along with his normal meeting with The Seven and an appointment with Ashley about the new ads for his campaign. You have to go in earlier than him but he can’t lay around forever. So he reluctantly doesn’t push you to stay although he does take a quick peek when you leave to change (and to rinse off the sloppy mess of arousal between your legs) He only looks long enough for a glimpse. He’s not some pervert.

You emerge dressed in the way he’s used to, sensible shoes, nice dress pants, and a pretty white blouse. You look put together and professional. It’s a far cry from the person who writhed and moaned against him.

“I need to head out but you’re free to stay as long as you want. There’s some pain au chocolat in a covered bowl by the fridge if you want some breakfast.” You tell him breezily although you still fluster when you meet his gaze.

“Can you tell me that in American?” He asks with a relaxed drawl. You roll your eyes but your expression is deeply fond.

“There are some chocolate croissants in a bowl by the fridge. Help yourself.” You reply with a smirk. You pause, sheepish. “Also I’m going to the laundromat after work so if you…need anything washed, just drop it in the hamper over there.”

You scamper over to press a quick chaste kiss to his forehead. He hums at the brush of your lips.

“Bye!” You bid him farewell before scurrying out the door and down the long stairs to the ground floor.

Homelander stretches and reclines back on the pillows. He feels unfulfilled despite his powerful orgasm. You hadn’t come at all and then you just raced off. Sure, you did have a good reason but he had wanted to take his time with you. He’d planned for ages how he wanted to take you for the first time but this surprise makeout session has his plans all discombobulated. He still hasn’t fully processed what happened. He looks down at the dirty sweatpants on the floor.

“If you…need anything washed”

Homelander groans. You did know.

Fuck

Aw well, he reaches down to stroke his cock that has filled out once again. He still has enough time to rub out another quickie. He’s going to more than make up for his indiscretion. You won’t even know what hit you.

————————————————————

Homelander is still dripping from the downpour outside on his flight back to the tower. He took too long entertaining himself with a pair of your underwear so now he doesn’t have time to run back to his penthouse for a dry suit. Luckily, you’re waiting in the conference room as always, humming to yourself as you prep for the meeting. The pleasant scent of you tickles his nose and reminds him again of this morning’s events

You haven’t noticed him yet as you busy yourself with your tasks. Although he can tell by the faint furrow of your brow that you’re keenly aware of his absence. He grins and silently follows behind you like a cat. You remain so adorably oblivious when you look pensievely towards the doorway, unaware that he’s already on your trail. He’s tempted to reach out and cheekily pinch your ass but he doesn’t want to risk giving you a heart attack. Instead, he waits until you’ve slid the last packet in place to grab your waist and spin you against the window. You gasp as he leans in close, boxing you in with one arm perched casually against the glass. You blink owlishly up at him in surprise and he can see your fluttering pulse beat against your skin.

“You’re all wet” is the first thing you manage to stammer through your shock and he grins.

“You’re observant today. I guess I didn’t kiss all the sense out of you” He replies and you give a little huff at his teasing as you hit his chest with an ineffectual slap. He’s so close that the lingering rain on his suit is starting to soak through your white blouse and his stomach flips when he can spy a hint of lace through the fabric. You rest your hands on his chest but don’t make any attempt to push him back.

“Are you cold?” You reach up to brush a dripping strand of hair out of his eyes. He shivers pleasantly at the gentle touch but you seem to interpret it as evidence of a chill. He places a hand on your waist to further box you in against him and your whole body erupts with heat as the blood rushes through your veins. He’s never this bold with you in public but a barrier has been broken. It’s time to be more forward with you.

“I’m freezing, I need someone to warm me up.” He purrs. It’s like you’ve suddenly become aware of how close he’s standing because you drop your gaze shyly. His cock gives a needy throb when he sees the barest shadow of your nipples beginning to stiffen in your bra. All he wants is to settle his warm mouth over them and suck. You’d squirm and pant against him. His tongue flicks against his teeth as he imagines making you come just by teasing your nipples until you can’t stand it anymore.

You sneak a peek up at him through your lashes and he squeezes your waist gently. You open your mouth to respond when…

“Are you two just going to stand there spraying your pheromones all over the conference room or can we get this meeting started?”

Homelander grits his teeth and the bane of his existence waltzes through the door. You startle and this time your hands on his chest do attempt to create some distance at being caught in such a compromising position. He lets you go as he fixes Stormfront with a nasty glare. He’s frustrated with himself for not noticing her as she approached but your fucking nipples were hard so it was difficult to pay attention to anything else. You awkwardly cross your arms over your chest when Stormfront sneers at the sight of your now see-through shirt.

“Shouldn’t you be doing your job?” She remarks coldly. You bite your tongue hard and Homelander catches a whiff of blood when you open your mouth to reply.

“I’m sorry. I’ll be going right away.” The warmth from his proximity has faded and you shiver shamefully in the crisp air of the conference room.

“And put on a jacket, this isn’t a wet t-shirt contest.” She replies and Homelander hates the scent of salt in the air as you tear up in frustrated embarrassment. He wants to step in and defend you but unfortunately you scurry out of the room fuming without even meeting his eyes.

He can feel them start to sizzle.

“Who the fuck pissed in your cheerios this morning?” He snaps at her. The knowledge that the rest of the team is coming is the only thing keeping him from more firm measures of retaliation… Such as popping her head like a ripe melon. He grumpily takes a seat in his chair and taps his fingers against the table to try and calm his nerves.

Much to his annoyance, Stormfront takes the seat directly next to him. She strategically waits until the rest of the team begins to file in before she leans over to whisper in his ear.

“I never took you as the type to fraternize with the help.” She states frankly and his hackles raise at her insinuation. He doesn’t like being reminded that you’re ultimately just a PA. When he’s with you, it’s so easy to forget how little you matter in the grand scheme of things. His pride rankles and his skin prickles uncomfortably.

“I wasn’t fraternizing. You’re taking things out of context.” He harshly whispers back. He’s not quite sure what that imaginary context could be. He did have you pressed sensually against the wall while you gazed at him with fuck-me eyes and hard nipples.

“Listen, I don’t care who you fuck but if you’re going to slum it then you need to be a little more discreet.” Her tone is dismissive.

Homelander’s ears start to ring.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He hisses. She knows nothing. She knows nothing about you. Who cares if you're nobody. It means you’re all for him.

“I’m someone who’s trying to give you advice. Get some standards.” She replies.

Homelander stands straight up, eyes burning, teeth bared, and the other members of The Seven meet each other’s gaze nervously. Stormfront just stares back with that infuriatingly smug smirk. He clenches his fists as he imagines how pretty her blood would look painting the conference room. He wants to laser right through her skull, roast her until she’s nothing more than a charred fucking husk. His eyes flare brighter. Then he remembers Edgar. He knows the kind of trouble he’ll be in if he indulges his urges. He shouldn’t care but he fucking does and it’s that which protects Stormfront. But he won’t be so lenient in the future if she keeps talking about you like you’re less.

“Meeting’s over!” He growls before stalking out of the room, steam practically billowing out of his ears. He can hear the confused murmurs of the team but he can’t be fucked to pay attention.

He’ll never give you up. You belong to him, especially now. He’s certainly not less because he’s… His thoughts stutter to a stop. He realizes that he has no clue what the two of you are. You’re not dating yet he sleeps in your bed and kisses you stupid. Things had evolved so naturally that he can’t even pinpoint the exact moment the relationship became more.

He needs to make this official, he decides. It’s time to make sure you’re really his. No more slumming it. He’ll show you off with fucking pride. You’ll love it. You’ll love him.

You’ll never be a nobody again.

#homelander #homelander x reader #x reader #Bakerverse #Wow it didn’t take me two months to get a new chapter out for once #anyway things finally get a little frisky

720 notes · View notes