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javiscigarette · 11 months

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Just Focus on My Love

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: Frankie just thinks there are better things to do than play a silly video game called Stardew Valley (or a very self-indulgent sweet baby boy Frankie fic)

Warnings: NSFW 18+ only!! No use of Y/N smut duh, oral (f receiving), a bit of body/pussy worship, fingering, squirting, spitting, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, he adds a finger just for funsies, creampie, cum play, frankie loves to run his mouth when he's horny, also I know this man has killed people but he is just a baby

Word count: 4k

A/N: Inspired by Focus by miss Charli xcx!! Also this is dedicated to all the real gamers out there who play Stardew. May your crops flourish. Also this may secretly be the first part of a lil series I'm cookin up but you didn't hear that from me!

Frankie finds you on the sectional in the basement in full veg mode. You’re sitting in the corner of the couch with your legs stretched out on the cushions in front of you with the lights down low.

You’re playing the same game you’ve been playing for months now, the game Frankie is slowly starting to despise. He had actually been the one to suggest finishing the basement and creating this little sanctuary for you to play video games.

But he didn't think about how if you started spending more time curled up playing your games, that would be less time spent with him.

“Babyyy” Frankie whines from where he’s standing near the foot of the couch, at the end of your outstretched legs.

“Hi, Francisco” you reply calmly, not taking your eyes off the screen.

Frankie takes that as an invitation.

You pause the game and giggle as he climbs on the couch before ungraciously collapsing on top of you. He rests his head on your chest that’s covered with one of his t-shirts.

“Don’t distract me, Frankie” you say firmly between little giggles while he gets comfy.

“No promises.”

He snakes his arms around you, trapping his forearms between your waist and the couch cushion You roll your eyes and wrap your arms around his neck to hold your control behind his head. You unpause and go back to the game and Frankie gives you almost five whole minute before he sighs again.

“You’ve been down here for hours, bebita. What even is this game? Skyblue Valley? ” Frankie groans.

“Stardew Valley. And I told you I’m so close to finishing the community center and I want it done this weekend”

Frankie grumbles again and turns his head to look at you straight on, his chin resting on your chest, his face inches away from your’s.

“But I’m bored and we should be spending time together. Strengthening our bond, yanno”

You snort at that.

“Strength of our bond?”

“Yeah! Quality time! One of the love languages.”

“Frankie, baby, we spent the whole day together. And as soon as I’m done with this we’ll spend the rest of the night together”

“C’mon, cariño.” Frankie whines.

He shifts around again until suddenly there’s some pressing hard against the front of your hip. It’s not surprising - Frankie can’t keep his hands off of you. He’s needy too, requiring almost the same amount of your attention that a 3-month old puppy would.

“Not gonna work, Francisco. You’ve gotta try harder than that” you say plainly, keeping your eyes glued to the screen.

You should’ve just kept your mouth shut.

Frankie immediately sees the challenge and lunges at it like a rabid dog. He narrows his eyes at you, his lips curling up in a mischievous smirk.

“Frankie…” you try to warn him, already seeing exactly where this is going.

“Just keep playing your game, hermosa” Frankie says calmly, turning his head to rest his cheek on your chest again.

He moves to unpin his arm from underneath you and starts to fiddle with the hem of your (his) shirt. The cotton is soft and worn, just like all the other shirts and sweaters that you’ve stolen from him.

He never complains, not even when half of his clothes end up on your side of the closet. He loves seeing you in them, seeing how they fit on your body, how they smell like you at the end of the day. He can never get enough.

He slips his fingers under the hem and traces the pads of his fingers over the smooth skin of your stomach and your hips. It’s mindless, the way his hands roam your body, tracing paths that he’s traced millions of times before.

He gets lost in it for a few minutes. He shuts his eyes and lets his hand drift all over you like he’s trying to memorize the way you feel under his fingers and his palms. It’s soothing for him too. Grounds him and reminds him that you’re real and you’re here.

His palm is hot on your skin, leaving a burning trail as it roams your body, sliding over every square inch of skin that he can reach. It’s a simple and fairly innocent gesture, but you already feel something swirling in your tummy.

Eventually Frankie remembers his mission and gets back to work.

He slowly slides his palm from your rib cage down the front of you until just his fingertips dip under the elastic waistband of your sweatpants. He doesn’t stay there for long before sliding his hand back up to where he started at your rib cage. He repeats the process a few times, his fingers sliding further and further under your waistband.

He looks up at you but you’re still unbothered, completely focused on your game. Internally, it's a completely different story. You’ve been wet since the moment he laid down and you can feel the damp cotton of your panties sticking to your core. He always gets you going like that. But you genuinely did want to finish this. And more importantly, you wanted to see what Frankie has up his sleeve.

He pushes himself up until he’s sitting between your legs with enough room to slide your pants off, pulling your underwear down too in the same motion. Frankie parts your knees, slowly spreading you open and revealing your wet seam. His cock lurches almost painfully and he whispers “Jesus christ” to himself at the sight of your pussy already swollen and glistening without him even properly touching you.

He settles between your legs once again, laying on his abdomen with your dripping cunt inches from his face.

He takes his sweet time though and scatters sweet kisses on your inner thighs. He can’t help but stop every so often to nibble and suck at the smooth skin, leaving fresh red marks among the fading ones that he gave you yesterday and the day before and the day before that.

He feels your muscles twitch under his lip and he glances up at you, but you’re still focused on your game. Damned and determined, he slowly kisses his way up your thigh and stops when his face is inches away from your burning core.

With no further preamble, and because he can’t wait any longer, he dives right in.

And he’s fucking ravenous with it.

He flattens his tongue and groans into you as soon as the taste of you touches his tongue. He licks you from your leaking hole up to your clit before taking the swollen nub between his lips. He takes his time, sucking on your clit and flicking it with the tip of his tongue before letting go and licking back down to your hole where he dips his tongue inside, his head going dizzy when he feels you clench around his tongue. And the sound of it is crude, the sucking and slurping and his ragged gasps for air as he dinks you down and feasts on you.

He’s greedy too. He spreads your lips open with his thumb and forefinger, holding you open so he can plunge his tongue inside of you as far as he possibly can with his nose bumping against your clit and he groans deeply into you again when he feels you clench around his tongue.

Your eyelids flutter and your eyebrows draw together while your eyes roll back a bit. With a quick sideways glance, you see him with his eyes closed as he loses himself in you. Every bone in your body wants to sing but you bite back your moans, determined not to give in so easily.

Frankie takes his mouth off of you with a wet pop. He’s breathing heavily, delightfully out of breath. You haven’t paused your game yet, but your hands are motionless on the controller. Your chest is heaving with quick breaths and your bottom lip is red and puffy from you gnawing at it while you try to bite back your moans.

He’s almost there.

Frankie knows what makes you tick. He has spent hours and hours between your legs mapping out every inch of you and carefully studying your reaction to his every touch until he memorized every single little thing that made you shake and squirm and scream.

So that’s why he uses both thumbs to spread you open before spitting onto your already dripping seam and listens happily to the groan he knew you would let out. He doesn't even bother looking up at you when you make a noise. He’s too enamored with watching the way his spit glides down your cunt before settling around your pulsating hole. With his mouth watering, he latches back onto you.

And he’s messy with it. He buries his face in your pussy, overindulging in the way your slick leaks out onto his tongue and drips down his chin, moving his face side to side and smearing it all over his beard and your inner thighs until you’re both a mess.

You’re quickly losing this battle and like clockwork, your thighs start to tremble just slightly.

He’s got you right where he wants you.

He unwraps an arm from where it’s locked around your thigh and brings his hand up between your legs. With no warning, he sinks two thick fingers inside of you. He moans loudly against you when you gasp, your back reflexively arching and your hips grinding up against his face.

Finally, you surrender and toss your controller to the side and grip onto Frankie’s fluffy curls instead.

You moan his name, the sweetest sound on Earth Frankie thinks, as you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull his face impossibly closer into you and hold him in place there. Frankie doesn't miss a beat and sucks your clit in between his lips as he steady pumps his fingers in and out of you. He hums in delight, tingles running from his scalp down his spine and to his toes as you start to rock your hips against his face. The vibrations of his sounds against your core cause hot flames to start licking at the base of your spine.

Despite your fingers tugging harshly in his hair, he pulls back from you just enough to mumble “Ride it, cariño. Ride my fuckin’ face,” his voice raspy and breathless before latching back onto your aching core.

You listen to him because why the fuck would you not. You tighten your grip in his hair, and his jaw goes slack as you start to rock your hips up off the couch and back down again, sliding your dripping cunt up and down his awaiting tongue.

Frankie could die happy right now. He moans when your thighs squeeze either side of his head while your hand on the back of his head keeps his face pressed into you so firmly he can't get a good breath. But he’d rather pass out than move an inch away from you right now. And the sounds he’s making are obscene, his muffled grunts and groans and whimpers going straight to your lower abdomen where the pressure of your impending orgasm is quickly multiplying.

Everything feels so perfect, his fingers rhythmically sliding in and out of your pulsating hole, expertly stretching you out and filling you up as you hold onto his hair for dear life and ride his tongue, letting his scruffy beard scrape deliciously against your inner thighs.

Frankie knows you’re close, he can hear the way your moans are quickly growing more and more desperate and can feel you clamping down around his fingers. It’s time for his final move.

He pushes his fingers inside of you as deep as he can get and instead of pulling them out again, he keeps them in place and curls them upward. The sound you make is angelic and Frankie’s cock twitches hard from where it’s pinned against the couch cushion. He hasn’t paid a single ounce of attention to his throbbing length. And he doesn’t want to. He wants to, needs to devote himself entirely to your pleasure, so fucking desperate to feel you come underdone under his tongue.

He breathes heavily through his nose as your hips start building up speed as you grind against his mouth. He keeps working his tongue while repeatedly pressing the tips of his fingers into your g-spot until there’s no more air in your lungs and your head is fucking spinning.

It starts in your hips, the way your pace falters lets Frankie know what’s about to happen. He doubles down on his efforts and his eyes roll back when your thighs start shaking violently on either side of his head.

“Frankieee” you whine, your nails starting to scrape against his scalp. He gives you a low and throaty growl a nonverbal way of saying “I’ve got you, let go for me. Give it to me, please baby”

And you do.

Your orgasm crashes down on you, knocking all the air out of your lungs as every muscle tenses in your body. Frankie doesn’t stop, not for one second, even when you start to gush around his fingers. The groan he lets out is animalistic, as you squirt against his face, your juices pouring down his hands and dripping down his face and chin onto the couch below him.

You buck your hips and squirm underneath him as your pussy clenches with each wave of pleasure but he keeps his mouth glued to you, drinking you down. He can’t get enough. He keeps lapping at you, trying not to waste a single drop but it’s impossible with how hard you came.

He keeps going as you ride it out, just basking in the noises you’re making and the feeling of your fingers tugging sharply at his hair, never wanting this to end.

But your intense pleasure is fading away and sensitivity is starting to quickly replace it. You let him have his fill for a few more seconds as he desperately laps up everything you gave him. But it quickly becomes too much and you start to push him away. With a pitiful whine, he pulls back reluctantly and rests his head on your thigh.

But you’re an absolute sight to behold in front of him. Your inner thighs and your puffy cunt are drenched, so messy and wet with a small wet spotunder the couch from your juices that Frankie couldn't lick up. Your inner thighs are rubbed red from his beard and there are crescent marks on the top of your thigh where Frankie was gripping you.

“You’re so fucking sexy” Frankie whispers, watching your cunt clench weakly around his fingers as he slowly slides them out of you, moaning quietly as a small amount of liquid dribbles out of you and onto the couch.

He tries to give you a break so you can catch your breath. But you’re just as impatient as he is. So you card your fingers through his hair before tugging slightly, a small mewl slipping past your lips.

Frankie looks up to meet your gaze and raises an eyebrow when he sees the desperation still clouding your eyes. You just look back at him and whine pathetically but he knows exactly what you want.

He doesn't tease you, doesn’t even mention the fact that your game is unpaused on the TV. Because he’s fucking needy too. And there’s a wet spot on the front of his briefs from where he was leaking precum while he was grinding mindlessly against the couch as he ate you out to prove it.

And now, with you looking like this, he needs you bad.

Without saying anything and keeping his eyes fixed on you, Frankie wipes his mouth with the back of his hand like he just finished eating a fucking 5 course meal and stands up from the couch to quickly shed off all his clothes. But he moves too fast though and hits his shin on the coffee table. You hiss and grimace at the sight but he barely reacts to the pain before kneeling back down on the couch between your legs again.

Your mouth waters when you see his cock, impossibly hard and angry red, the tip wet and shiny with precum as it bobs between his legs, thick and heavy.

“Gonna let me have you, cariño?” Frankie asks through a gravelly grumble before spitting in his hand and coating his cock in it as if you needed any more lubrication. It can’t hurt though, Frankie is thick and no matter how wet you are or how many times you take him, he stretches you out with a delicious burn. Every. Single. Time.

“Yes Frankie, I’m please I need it, fuck” you whine.

Frankie shushes you and lines himself up at your entrance, his fat tip pressing against your aching hole. You try to roll your hips up but he brings his free hand down to your hip, effectively pinning you in place with one broad palm.

“Just take it, baby,” Frankie whispers. “Let me give it to you.”

With a heavy sigh, Frankie pushes into you. He tries to go slowly, but you’re so wet that he sinks in with ease and it doesn’t help that your greedy cunt is practically sucking him in. He bottoms out with a broken moan and brings his other hand to grip your hip.

You’re a mess underneath him, keening and moaning freely as your walls clench wildly around him. You know he’s not going to last long and being so close to the tailend of your last orgasm, there’s not much hope for you either.

But Frankie is going to take as much as he possibly can from you.

He gives you a few moments to adjust to his size and the feeling of being stuffed full of him. The stretch burns pleasantly as your walls flutter around him.

“F-Frankie, fuck you feel so good s-so fucking deep, baby” you babble in between moans and gasps for air.

He tightens his grip on your hips as he pulls out halfway and drives back into you. His cock throbs inside of you at the sound of your moan.

“I know, baby.” Frankie sighs. “But you take it so well. Always take it so well. Letting me stretch your perfect little pussy out, huh? Such a good girl making room inside in that sweet cunt for my thick fuckin cock, letting me fill you up. Your fucking perfect, cariño. So fucking good, I’m so lucky”

Sweet, sweet Frankie. The human embodiment of a basket of puppies that runs his mouth and fills your head with filthy words behind closed doors.

Frankie knows he should give you more time to adjust to his size, but he can’t help himself. He starts to build up a steady pace, not wanting to waste a single second of being inside you, grunting at every beautiful sound you make.

You just lay there and take it, moaning at the feeling of him splitting you in half as he pounds into you, desperately chasing after his own orgasm.

He slides his hands down from your hips to your inner thighs before prying them apart and pinning your legs to the couch, leaving your pussy on full display for him. He lets out a strained moan when he sees the way your lips are gripping him as he pulls out and sucking back in as he slams back into you.

“M’not gonna last long, baby” Frankie pants with his eyes glued to where your bodies are connected. You’re already hurtling towards your second orgasm but you manage to fight the overwhelming pleasure that’s rooting itself in your bones again to open your eyes and look up at him. You’re presented with the most gorgeous sight of Frankie fucking you with no regard. His curls are flopping down in front of his eyes as he stares at where he’s disappearing inside of you, his jaw is slack and hanging open, and his heaving chest is starting to glisten with sweat.

“Mmmm cum inside, Frankie. I wanna feel it” you moan when you feel his hips stutter.

He grunts before dragging his eyes up your body from your wet pussy to your blown out pupils. He stares into your eyes for just a few seconds as he keeps fucking into you.

Then he winks at you.

Knowing that can only mean trouble, you watch him with bated breath. He drops his gaze back to where he’s pounding into you. His eyes twinkle with curiosity as he moves one hand from your thigh and brings it to your mouth.

He gives you just one finger, slips his index finger past your lips and watches intently as you swirl your tongue around his digit, getting it wet with your spit. When he’s satisfied, he pulls it out and brings it back down to your core.

He slows down a bit and you gasp when he traces where he’s stretching you out with his wet finger.

“Think you can take a little more?” Frankie asks, looking up at you while continuing to prod at your stretched entrance.

“Yes” you moan, not giving it a second thought because if Frankie thinks you can, then you know you can.

“Thank you, cariño” Frankie whispers.

You give him a weak nod and try to suppress the whimper that’s bubbling up in your throat when he stops moving until he’s still inside of you.

You do whimper, well more of a strangled moan, when he starts to work his finger covered in your saliva into you, right alongside his thick cock.

“Holy shit” you cry out, one of your hands flying up to claw at his bicep.

“Is it too much?” Frankie asks, his eyebrows drawn together in concern as he tries to read your facial expressions and your body language.

You shake your head fervently and squeeze your eyes shut.

“N-no, keep going” you pant. “Feels so good, Frankie, please keep going.”

And because Frankie is trained to follow commands so well, he keeps pushing his finger inside of you, cursing under his breath as you squeeze around his finger and his cock.

“Jesus christ, baby” Frankie hisses as he starts fucking into you again.

With the added thickness of his finger (which is ridiculously thick by itself), you genuinely feel like his ripping you open in the best way possible. You can’t hold on for much longer and the sounds he’s pulling out of you are insane and as he delivers you into the awaiting arms of your second orgasm.

“C’mon, baby. Can feel every fucking inch of you squeezing me” Frankie huffs as he continues to plow into you. “Soak my cock, baby please. I wanna see it this time.”

There's a long moan of his name and the sound of it bounces around in his head before traveling as a tingle down his spine. He watches you in amazement as you lift your hips off the couch as you start to gush around him again. He doesn’t stop pounding into you though. And the sensation of your slick leaking out around his finger and his cock and sliding down his to his palm and his balls as you clench around him is too fucking much.

His own body takes him by surprise, his hips faltering as he starts to cum inside you with no warning. He grunts loudly as he empties himself inside of you and it’s so much that he can’t remember the last time he came this hard.

The two of you stay there for a minute, just trying to catch your breath. Frankie starts to go soft and once the stretch isn’t so much, he slowly slides his cock and and finger out of you. He groans softly in his throat and watches with heavy eyelids as his cum, mixed with your own release, starts to leak out of you, adding to the dark spot on the couch from earlier.

As if he’s on autopilot, Frankie mindlessly gathers his cum that’s seeping out of you on two of his fingers before he pushes them back inside of you. He slowly pumps his fingers in and out of you, marveling at the way your hole leaks around them until you whimper and squirm at the overstimulation.

He carefully removes his fingers and slides them into his own mouth because he can never get enough of you. Never ever. You watch with hooded eyes and a dopey smile as he licks your slick and his cum off his fingers, closing his eyes and making a small noise in his throat as he does so.

He takes his fingers out of his mouth with a strand of saliva briefly and obscenely connecting his tongue to his fingers. He opens his eyes and gives you a goofy grin, too entirely pleased with himself. He leans down and presses his lips against yours. He laughs through his nose when you eagerly lick into his mouth in an attempt to get a second hand taste.

After a playful bite to your bottom lip, he pulls back to look at you.

“You’re greedy” Frankie teases with a smirk. “And messy” he adds when he looks down to the wet spot on the couch.

The same couch that the two of you bought a couple months ago because ironically, your old couch was starting to collect some stubborn stains. Frankie knows you’ll give him shit about it later and will probably be the one on his knees cleaning the cushion in a few minutes, but he doesn’t care one bit.

“Don’t even try, Morales” you say with a chuckle and an eye roll.

Frankie giggles sweetly before ducking down to give you another quick kiss. He then straightens up and turns his head to look over his shoulder at the TV. He turns back to look at you with a shiteating grin.

“You left it unpaused” he tries to say plainly, but the glee is evident in his voice.

He won.

Your face drops from sated to stressed as you look over at the TV screen and see that the game has advanced three more days while Frankie was playing with you.

“Francisco Morales!” you shout, reaching behind you to grab a pillow and throw it at him. He scrambles off the couch and runs away cackling before you can hit him.

#frankie morales smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal characters #javiscigarette

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itwasthereaminuteago · 6 months

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|| When You Come Home ||

Frank Castle x female reader

I wrote a lil thing to go with my gorgeous commission by @bunnelbie ! 😍

The sound of an engine pulling up outside has you dropping the knife and vegetables you had been preparing down on the counter. He had sent you a text earlier in the day telling you that he'd be back today and you had been buzzing, almost unable to concentrate on anything other than just waiting for him to walk through that front door.

When he'd left, the first couple of days had been fine. He'd send you updates, just checking in to let you know he was alive. Then it would go quiet for a while and of course during those times your head was full of worry, but then he'd always get in touch again to let you know he was safe.

One time he had called you, late at night just as you were settling down in bed. He had filled your ears with sweet promises of everything he was going to do to you when he came home, and the memory of it now dances just underneath your skin.

You go to the door ripping it open just as he's getting out of his truck, seeing him standing there with his bag slung over one shoulder. Then you're running the short distance across the drive barefoot, throwing your arms around him.

"Frankie!"

He grins so wide, dropping the bag and returning your tight hug. You're never letting him leave for so long ever again, you think to yourself. The sound of his chuckle as you frantically pepper kisses all over his face fills you with a syrupy warmth that you've been missing for almost a month. Your Frank is finally back in your arms and you're so grateful.

"Hey you," his grizzled, out-of-use voice meets your ears and only makes you squeeze him more before pulling back and kissing him properly.

"Goddamn baby I've missed you." He lifts you off the ground and you squeal with delight as he spins you around. When he lets you down you don't fail to notice the slight groan he makes.

"You're alright? You're not hurt?" You hurriedly inquire, your hands touching almost every bit of him as you scan for anything more serious than the scrape on his cheek. He looks tired and you're sure you'll find some bruises later on, but other than that you're satisfied that there's nothing concerning.

He starts to walk you backwards into the house. "Nah I'm not hurt, don't you worry. You gonna let me come in huh?" He kids, and you laugh, pulling him inside and closing the door as he puts his bag down on the floor. As he shrugs off his jacket your eyes catch a glint of silver on his wrist. "Oh my god, you're actually wearing it?"

Frank glances at the bracelet around his right wrist, surprised that you thought he wouldn't. "'Course I'm wearin' it, you got me it!"

"I know I- I just thought you might think it was silly."

You had one too, a silver chain with a charm. A heart with a tiny skull etched on it.

Frank steps up closer to you, nudging his nose against yours before kissing the tip of it. "Ain't silly, every time I see it I'm reminded of you, sweetheart. That's all that kept me goin' some days."

He smiles softly as your eyes go Bambi-wide at his admission and you look like you're about to burst into tears but when he strokes his fingers through your hair and thumbs over your cheek it tempers the strength of your emotion. "I love it baby."

He looks over to the countertop distracting you from getting overwhelmed. "You cookin'?"

You nod. "Yeah, just making some dinner. Wasn't sure when you'd be back exactly or if you'd even be hungry, but I thought I'd get it started anyways."

"Oh yeah I'm hungry alright. Let me wash up real quick and we can finish it together, how 'bout that, hm?"

You grasp at him, scrunching your fingers in his shirt like he's going to disappear again but he just smooches you over and over promising he'll be right back in just a minute. You go back to the chopping board in the meantime and when he returns he slinks his hands around your waist, his chin settled in the crook of your shoulder and neck.

"Oh, is this what you call helping?" You tease, but you're full of love at the easy contact between you. It was like he'd never been gone.

"Mhm," he hums, kissing into your hair again as he continues shadowing you.

You giggle, trying to get stuff done with him hanging on to you, but he does eventually chip in to get everything prepared and in the oven. It was usually Frank who did the cooking when he was home, and he was really damn good at it. He kept you fed in a multitude of ways.

After dinner the washing up is left as tomorrow's problem, because right now you just want to spend quality time with your man. He's back from battles he's not quite ready to share, and even when he is ready to open up about it you doubt you'll get the full story, but that's alright.

Frank sits down on the couch, spreading his legs wide and beckoning you to join him. When you climb right on him making yourself comfortable in your favourite place, on his lap, he quietly chuckles, taking you in his arms.

You kiss him.

Yeah you had kissed earlier but this was different. Now, you knew he was safe, he wasn't going anywhere, you could slow down, revel in the feel of each other, his soft, warm lips on your mouth like you'd always dream of when he was away. Tonight, you wouldn't be alone in your bed, he'd wrap you up in his arms and be yours, and you would be his. But for now the taste of him is your focus, and the light scratch of his day-old stubble against your skin is so welcome as he seeks gentle, tentative permission to deepen the kiss. You open for him, always looking for and finding ways to be closer. As your tongue dances against his, your fingers card through his hair. It's grown out a little and you smile against his teeth when his familiar grunt meets your ears as you give a sharp little tug on it and he bites your bottom lip in flirty retaliation.

His fingers hook around the back of your knee anchoring you to him. As if you're going anywhere. He drinks you in as the sun is setting, calloused fingertips trailing your bare arm and raising goosebumps in their wake as you make out like teenagers behind the bleachers.

"I love you," He says softly after a while when you part to catch a breath, forehead leaning against yours, "so goddamn much, baby."

"I love you too, Frank." You close your eyes, feeling his heartbeat under your fingers and trying to press the words in there, rebrand them deep and fresh.

"Can I take my woman to bed?" He asks you with a sly smile. "Because if I recall a certain conversation correctly, I promised her a whole lot of lovin' when I got home…"

"Mm I haven't forgotten. You've got it coming too y'know, Frankie." You trace your lips along his jaw causing him to let his head fall back and grant you the space to lightly nip and kiss at his neck. An appetizer of what's yet to come. He makes a low sound from deep in his chest and can't wait any longer, scooping you up and carrying you bridal style to the bedroom.

"I'm all yours."

#frank castle fluff #frank castle x female reader #punisher x reader #punisher fluff

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brownsugarwrites · 3 months

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Poundcake.

✰ pairings: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x black!fem!reader

✰ warnings: none! fluff with a liddol bit of suggestive content. reader cooks soul food (no debate)

✰ a/n: this was soooooo yummy to write! I hope I can write more ghost in the future I love this man.

There was a click of the knob at the door. “He’s home, you thought, eyes coming away from the TV as you stood behind the stove.

Hearing the door perch open, you hear his heavy boots stepping into the house as the smell of pound cake infiltrates his nose.

“I'm guessing my princess is in the kitchen, right?”

“Hi, baby!!!” You greeted him gleefully before shuffling your feet towards him and hugging him. Firm arms wrapped around your thick waist, crushing you slightly.

“I missed you around here,” you told him, pouting as he gave you a light pat on your head.

“I missed ya too, sweetheart. Food smells divine,” he compliments

You blush a little as you give a little thanks, telling him you’d been cooking all day for him, waiting for him to get back

It was something you started to do for him about a year into actually living with each other, and now that you were engaged, it became a habit

“Well, I'm going to make me a plate-“ he started

Your face scrunched up in disgust. He knows you make him shower before he can eat.

“Simon…. I dont know why you come up in this house acting brand new. You know to get in the shower before you sit at the table,” you responded with attitude, popping your hip out.

“But sweetheart-“ he began

“But sweetheart, nothing. Get cleaned up and put your clothes in the laundry room. Your plate will be ready when you come downstairs.”

Huffing like a child, he took his bag and lugged himself up the stairs to get into his house clothes.

As you watched him go up the stairs, you quickly turned your attention back to the oven, opening it to take the cake out to let it cool.

While he showered, you set the tray tables and queued the TV to another episode of Real Housewives of Atlanta.

About a good hour later, you turned your head to the heavy footsteps that came down the stairs to meet you in the living room.

You watched as his shirt clung to his body, showcasing his physique. To you, he looked a little more...fluffy than usual. You noticed in his abdominal area he was losing some defintation. Which you found cute and a little sexy, knowing he could still probably fold you into a pretzel while fucking you.

"What do you want on your plate, big boy?" you asked playfully, a smile gracing your face.

His cheeks were turning pink as he told you he was okay to make his own plate.

"Si, you've been gone for four months. What makes you think I'm not going to make your first plate back?" you said, standing up and going to meet him where he was at

"tell me what you want," you said, looking up at him so innocently

What he wanted was to take you upstairs and have his face in your cunt till the sun rose until he heard his stomach growling.

"A little bit of everything is fine, princess," he told you, hands moving down your waist, effectively cupping your ass with his big hands.

Rolling your eyes, you pulled away from him, going to the kitchen to make you and his plate.

Coming into the living room with the warm, fragrant food, you sat it before him as he drooled over it.

"lemme get you something to drink, ok," you said before scurrying to the refrigerator to get a bottle of water and a pop.

Seeing that he had already started eating his food, you giggled as you watched him stuff his face full.

"Is it good?" you joked, plopping down next to him and giving him his drink.

"Spectacular," he managed to get out before taking another bite

Pressing play on the TV, the two of you watched Real Housewives as y'all ate. Once Simon was finished, he sat back on the couch, rubbing his stomach in content

"You're gonna make me fat with all this good cookin', princess." he laughed

"Good!" you smiled at him

Seeing his eyes get heavy, you knew the food was sitting in, and he was getting the itis.

"You want a piece of pound cake, big boy?" you asked, rubbing a hand up and down his arm.

"No, thank you, sweetheart." he simply stated before cuddling you on the couch. "Thank you for the food, my love. I'm happy to be home."

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty fanfic #simon ghost x you #simon ghost riley x black reader #video game x reader #video game fanfic #call of duty x y/n #call of duty x reader

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mo0nlyte · 3 months

Text

I'm turning this meme into a story :)

Older bros being older broskis

——————————————————————————

Imagine.

You are sitting at home, maybe taking care of Martha, Bub's pet chicken..

Maybe you're helping Drayton cook.

Maybe you're just watching over Grandpa, hoping he's still alive.

"I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU GET YOUR SKINNY ASS BACK HERE"

That's not a common thing you hear in the Sawyer household.. well, if you're part of the Sawyer family.

You, and Bubba look over. Drayton didn't even bother looking, and kept adding meat to the pot of chili he was cookin' up.

Nubbins is bolting down the stairs! He immediately hides behind Bubba.

A very angry, very groggy Chop-Top barely misses tripping downstairs, and is standing there.

He's just standing there.

Menacingly.

"Where is that motherfucker."

"Who?.." you ask your older brother, so confused.

"Where is nubs, I am going to give HIM a reason to have a plate in his head!"

"Barn." Drayton hasn't looked up from the pot of chili he's making.

Chop-Top bolts out the door.

Nubbins laughs hysterically once he knows his twin is gone.

"What did you do to piss him off so bad?" You ask, very confused.

"I-I-I- *wheeze* I-"

You gave him a moment. It took a moment or two for him to calm down.

"I-I fuckin' c-clocked him o-on the h-h-h-head!"

Drayton just sighs.

Bubba is honestly worried Chop-Top might've lost some more brain cells.

Drayton thoroughly scolds Nubbins for an hour. Chop-Top doesn't return until dinner, which Drayton checks for further damage.. and seats him next to you. Just in case.

You sit by your older brother all happy and giddy. Trying to cheer him up, Bubba does his best to help.

..Most of the night Chop-Top is glaring at Nubbins.

Nubbins didn't get to sleep in the house that night, he had to sleep in the hayloft of the barn because his twin wouldn't let him into their room :(

They made up a week later.

When mysteriously Nubbins had a new dent in his head.

#texas chainsaw massacre #tcm #drayton sawyer #chop top sawyer #nubbins sawyer #tcmwriting #bubba sawyer #the hitchhiker #the texas chainsaw massacre #Slasher

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verve-wifux · 1 year

Text

Playing Nurse - Daryl Dixon smut.

Description:

You tend to Daryl after he's shot by Andrea after looking for Sophia but he isn't one to follow instructions, especially yours.

Ever since Rick's group arrived on your father's farm, and Daryl had immediately caught your eye. Whenever you got the chance to talk with him, you took it.

And this was no exception.

Warnings: Strong language, mature themes

*****

You puffed out a sigh when you entered the room you had forced Daryl to stay in while recovering, the bed messy, but most importantly, empty.

You slipped your hat, matching with your younger sister Maggie's, and began the walk over to Daryl's makeshift camp just outside the farm's fence.

"Y/N! Have you seen Maggie?" You heard Glen's voice call out from somewhere behind you, making you glance over your shoulder, pointing towards the house.

"Cookin' dinner with Lori and Carol," You called back, earning a thumbs up before he picked his pace into a light jog.

You shook your head at your sister's boyfriend with a smile on your mouth. You were happy she'd found someone like him. He was sweet, dorky but in a cute way.

You continued the walk to where the motorcyclist would be, biting your lower lip to fight the smile that tried to form when you saw him, his crossbow in his rough hands as he cleaned it with a rag.

He glanced up, his crystal blue eyes meeting yours, squinting due to the lowering sun. You saw his eyes hover on you before they rolled back into his head, looking back to the weapon in his hands.

Asshole.

"Y/N," He said in a way of greeting, eyes not meeting yours.

"Dixon," You greeted back, stopping in front of him and crossed your arms over your chest.

"Who gave ya' permission to leave?" You questioned, tilting your head.

"M'fine," He merely grumbled back, still cleaning the bow in his lap.

"That wasn't my question, who gave you permission to leave?" You replied back, making his hands hault, his eyes meeting yours as he looked up at you from the log he was sitting on.

Daryl's whole face could be seen as he had taken off his bandage about a week ago, unable to stand it any longer. His eyelashes were dark and long, a stray one on his tanned cheek.

You resisted the urge to wipe it away.

"What am I, your prisoner?" He questioned back, raising his brows at you, still squinting as he avoided the sun.

"Evidently not, seen as you're not where I left ya'," You frowned, making him puff out a low "pft".

"Not like ah ran away, jus'left," He shrugged, looking down at his crossbow.

Unable to stop yourself, you reached out, stopping his chin with a finger and forced his face back up.

He looked physically taken back by your gesture, but didn't pull away, letting you tilt his face upwards to meet yours.

"Look at me when I'm talkin' to ya," You ordered, making him raise a brow, but kept his mouth shut.

You removed your hand from his chin, wiping your finger along his cheek, collecting the stray eyelash.

"Make a wish," You smiled at him, showing him the eyelash on your finger, waiting for him to blow it away.

He searched your face before his eyes dropped to your finger.

"Wish ya'd stop botherin me," He wished before blowing on the eyelash, making you scowl at him.

He glanced back up at your face, a small smile on his lips, unable to help himself.

The sight made you freeze, you'd never really seen the man smile before.

It suited him.

"What does?" He asked, making you blink.

You realised you said that bit outloud as he stared blankly at you.

"Smilin', should do it more often," You shrugged, making him scoff at you.

"You've done nothin' but frown at me, so don't gimme that shit," He argued, making you grin at him.

You licked your lips, trying to hide your girlish reaction, but it didn't help. His own smile widened as he watched you, tilting his head as he observed you.

"Cause ya could hurt yourself out here, Dixon! I'm lookin out for ya," You remarked, making him roll his eyes.

"Pft, please. I'm just fine," He grumbled, shaking his head as he glanced from your face, scanning the forest and hills around us.

"At least come to dinner tonight," You sighed, sitting next to him, nudging his leg with yours while you sat.

"Ya been cookin?" He questioned with a scoff, making you nudge him playfully with your shoulder.

"Ya think I've been cookin? Best I can do is chop up some veggies. Maggie, Lori and Carol did it," You answered, your breath catching as he tilted his body, meeting your gaze.

He scanned your face, first your eyes, down your nose, your sun-kissed cheeks, your rosy lips.

He finally shook his head breifly, glancing away from you.

"C'mon, I'll make sure you don't have to sit on the kid table," You pushed, dying for him to say yes.

You didn't know why you had gravitated towards him as much as you had, but looking after him..checking in on him had been nice. It felt like you two had hit it off.

But.. he was healed and ready to go back to ignoring you most days.

"Why ya care so much?" He questioned, eyebrows furrowed as he glanced at you.

You froze, you'd been afraid of this question.

"Why wouldn't I?" You questioned back, deflecting the best you could.

He rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, Y/N. Why? Why ya been looking after me? Checking in? Ya dont gotta, so why?" He asked quietly.

"Well, everyone deserves help when they need it," You shrugged, holding his gaze.

He merely hummed, glancing to the sunset.

You followed his gaze.

"It's beautiful," You commented, noting the lovely orange, pink, purple, yellow and blue colours as they melted into one.

"Yeah," Daryl's voice replied, rough and deep like usual.

You glanced back over to his face, noticing he was already looking at you.

You watched eachother silently for a few moments.

"Fuck, Y/N, ya make this so hard and complicated," He muttered lowly, his eyes tracing over you.

You blinked.

"What?" You questioned, but your voice was breathless and weak.

He merely shook his head, scoffing softly, almost like he found it amusing that you didn't know what he was talking about.

"Ya can't look at m'like that," He grumbled, making you inhale sharply, your gaze falling to his mouth.

"Like what?" You questioned, meeting his gaze again.

"Like that," He answered roughly, unconsciously setting his crossbow aside.

"And why's that?" You teased with a smile, tilting your head at him. The hair you had left out of your half up-half down hairstyle falling over your shoulder, covered by a thin, blue and white flannel.

His answer was his lips pressing them against yours.

Immediately, you responded to his actions, your lips moving againat his own softly, your hand going to the side of his neck, fingers lacing into his hair as you pulled him closer.

He groaned against your mouth, his hands roaming to your waist and hips, pullling you closer until you straddled over him.

You could get closer due to the new position, angling your mouth closer to his.

You brushed your tongue against his mouth, quickly slipping inside and greeting his own tongue with a suggestive sweep, exploring his delicious mouth.

His hands tightened on you, holding you tighter to him as he kissed you harder, slowly taking control of the situation.

"Daryl!" You gapsed when his lips dipped from your mouth, planting themselves on your neck.

He kissed your skin tenderly, sliding his tongue up the length of your neck, kissing under your ear.

He smiled against your skin when you said his name, making him pull back and glance up at you.

"That's the first time you've ever said my name," He commented, making you grin down at him, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

"Make me say it again," You muttered against his lips, grinning happily.

"I'll make you scream it," He replied before picking you up in his strong, muscled arms.

You squeaked in response, laughing as you wrapped your legs around his hips, arms around his neck as you kissed him again.

He lay you down on the blanket he had on the floor, the grass soft underneath it, making it suprisingly comfortable.

He threaded himself between your legs, making you wrap them around him tighter, bringing him closer as you kissed him.

Your hands roamed over his muscled arms, squeezing roughly as they traced over his hot, tanned skin. Your hands went to his shirt, quickly undoing the buttons there, desperate to set your eyes on his broad chest.

A sight you had only seen once or twice.

Thankfully, his vest was thrown over a seat nearby, not having another layer of clothes to fight through.

He chuckled when you ripped him from his shirt, disgarding it somewhere, not bothering to check where it landed.

"Someone's eager," He teased in a humerous tone, making you scowl before you flipped him.

He puffed out a chuckle at the new position, his hands going to your hips as you straddled over him. Your eyes roamed over his chest, your fingers drawing a path over his skin, making him inhale sharply.

You didn't comment on the scars littering his body, pressing your lips to his collarbone and began to kiss your way down his body.

His hand laced in your hair as you moved south, earning a groan from him when you dragged your tongue over his stomach, nipping with your teeth.

You smiled against his skin before you pulled at his belt, hastily undoing it and pullrd his jeans from him.

He pulled you back to him, sitting up as he pulled your flannel and vest from you, leaving you in your bra and shorts.

His eyes took the time to scan you over before he pressed kisses to your collarbone, hands sliding over the skin of your waist.

"Well aren't ya a pretty sight," He muttered with a smile, making you press your mouth to his again, a soft moan fluttering from you as his thumbs stroked your skin tentatively.

His hands slid up your back, unclipping your bra with ease before throwing it to the side. You continued to kiss him before he pulled back, dropping kisses over your chest and neck.

You whined when his thumb brushed over your erect nipple, arching into him as your breasts ached for more, melting into his warmth and touch.

His mouth wrapped around your other, sucking lightly, making you cry out in shock, your hand going to his hair, pulling him closer.

As he continued to give your breasts some attention, your centre had began to throb uncomfortably, feeling hot and needy.

"God, Daryl. Stop teasing me," You moaned as your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut.

Almost making you cry out in protest, Daryl removed his mouth from you.

"Ya sure?" He questioned lowly, making you shift on him, rubbing against his hardened dick.

He groaned roughly, swiping his tongue over his lips.

"Yes. Fuck me, right now."

Daryl wasted no time before flipping you over, his hands undoing the button of your shorts before pulling them from you, your panties quick to follow as he exposed you to him.

You mewled when the subtle breeze brushed against your molten centre, making your hips rock, desperate for stimulation.

Daryl chuckled at you, his gaze meeting yours, clouded with lust.

"You're desperate, aren't ya? So fuckin' dirty, this why ya were playin' nurse?" He questioned as he rubbed his thumb over your centre, pressing down on the hot, bundle of nerves between your thighs.

You choked on your moan, hips jerking at the contact, body arching up to him.

"Mhm." It was the best answer you could give him, pleasure and desperation taking control of your body.

"Last I checked, nurses aren't meant to fuck their patients," He continued, making you smile up at him, giving him a one shouldered shrug.

"You're welcome to file a complaint," You answered, making him chuckle, pressing his mouth to yours and swallowing your moan when he rubbed over your clit in slow circles.

Your hips rocked against his calloused hand, the roughness of his fingers feeling delightful on your sensetive bud, your core clutching onto nothing.

"God, you're so fuckin' needy and wet, all for me?" He asked, nipping at your jaw as he kissed down your body.

He licked over your nipple again, stopping breifly as he continued to touch you between your thighs.

"All for ya', so wet," You gasped when he nipped your skin with his teeth.

He pulled his thumb from you, making you cry out in protest.

"No, please-"

"Sshh, ima take care of you now, yeah?" He questioned, making you nod eagerly.

You put up no fight when he rested your legs on his shoulders, his hair tickling your thighs as he lowered his mouth to your core, swiping his tongue up your centre.

You moaned loudly, hips jerking at the contact with his tongue. His tongue continued to roll in tight circles around your clit, his rough hands on your thighs, keeping them in place. A coil of heat began to tighten in your lower stomach, spread ingredients dowm your legs and up through your chest, settling in your face. You ground yourself against Daryl's mouth, your moans roling from your mouth without control.

You never knew sex could be like this, so..right. You didn't have a lot of expereince when it came to men, esecially now the world had went to shit, but Daryl and his mouth knew every spot that made your toes curl, your eyes roll back into your head and another moan fall from your mouth.

"Oh..god! Daryl-" A moan cut you off as your hips rocked faster, your hands pulling at the blanket under you, eyes clentched shut as you neared the edge of climax.

Before you could explode, Daryl pulled away with a dark chuckle.

You panted, eyes snapping open to look down at him, your high slowly easing to a subtle ache.

"Ya taste so good, better than any dinner the girls could've made," He grinned as he swiped his tongue over his lips, catching your glistening arousal that lingered there.

And he wasn't lying, you were fucking delicious.

"Daryl- God please," You begged needily, sitting up on yiur elbows as you pressed a kiss to his mouth, tasting yourself there.

You moaned softly, wrapping your arms around his neck and oulled him over your body.

He contimued to kiss you hungrily as you snuck your hand past the waist of his boxers, your hand wrapping around his hardened length, amd began to pump him.

He growled into your mouth, moving his hips in time with your pumps, occasionally speeding up or goimg harder.

You pulled your hand from him, spitting on your palm before going back to him, swiling a thumb over his tip.

"Fuck Y/N," He groaned, restimg his forehead against yours as he lost himself im the pleasure you were giving him.

"Wanna fuck me, Daryl? Bury that hard cock in my warm, tight pussy? I'll make ya feel so good while ya fill me up," You moaned into his ear, nipping his lobe with your teeth.

His dick twitched in your hand at the words, earning a rough laugh, a kiss in your cheek.

"You want that, sweet girl? Want me to fuck you?" He groaned, making you nod eagerly.

"I want you to make me scream," You whispered, your core throbbing with need and want.

"Fuck," He growled into your ear huskily, hips thrusting into your hand.

"Ya gotta stop," He continued, pulling back and pressed another kiss to your mouth.

You worked him a few more pumps, each hard and firm, before retrieving your hand from him.

He groaned, almost like he was in pain at the lack of contact, the sound driving you mad with lust.

You reached down, releasimg Daryl from.his boxers, his dick hitting against his stomach.

Your eyes widened at the sight, he was so big.. so thick. You wondered how he'd even fit inside your body, you'd never taken someone his size. He clearly read your fast and chuckled, pressing a kiss to your mouth.

"You'll take it, you're soaking," He muttered in reassurance.

He slipped a thick didget between yiur legs, swioing over your arosual before olunging inside.

You gasped at the intrusion, moaning loudly as he curled his fingers, hitting all the right places.

"Good?" He questioned, making yiu nod.

"A-another, more, gimme more," You begged wuickly, driving your hips down on his finger in time with his pumping, easily stretching for him.

"Dirty fucking girl, beggin' for more. Beggin' for my cock," He chuckled, making you grin lazily up at him.

"Ya promised you'd make me scream your name, Daryl. I'm not doin' a lot of screaming," You taunted, kissing his neck once.

He kissed your mouth roughly as he lined himself up with your entrance, slamming inside in one, hard thrust.

Your mouth fell open, a breathless scream leacimg your throat as you clung to him for dear life, feeling him so deep made you flutter aroumd him.

"Ya like that, sweetheart?" Daryl muttered into your ear, dragging his hips back before snapping agaisnt yours, pounding into your body you jolted with each thrust.

You could only moan loudly in respomse, driving your hips up against him.

After a few thrusts, he sped up, grunting roughly with each snap of his hips. His tip went against your G-spot with each drive forward.

As promised, you screamed Daryl's name as your release gushed from you, coating Daryl's dick, making his hips stutter inside of you.

He groamed, cutting off your moans and he kissed you roughly, feelimg his release work through your body, miximg with your own as he continued his sloppy thrusts.

He took a minute or so before pullimg out with a wince, just as sensetive as you were, pearly white cum leaking from you.

You panted as you cqught your breath, putting your hand om Daryl's chest as you smiled widely at him.

He pressed a kiss to your mouth, tucking loose hair behind your ear.

"Worked up an appetite?" You smiled, pressing a kiss to his broad shoulder.

He chuckled softly, his hand stroking over your waist and hip, squeezing softly.

"Hungry for dessert," He grinned wickedly, voice low as he pressed his lips to your neck, nipping softly.

You arched into him, kissing him twice more before escpaing his arms, starting to re-dress.

"C'mon Dixon, better get ther before people start looking for us," You grinned, nudging him with your boot.

"Back to Dixon?" He questioned, tilting his head with a soft smile.

"Mm, maybe do that thing with ya tongue again, and we'll see," You winked, making him scoff at you before he started to re-dress. You watched his muscles move, a smile on your face.

#daryl dixon smut #daryl x reader #smut!#twd #twd daryl #twd fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl x y/n #the walking dead daryl

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dotster001 · 1 year

Note

I just had an idea for a request! What if MC is asked to cook the meals for each dorm when there's a special occasion? And everyone believes that she can't do it but, lo and behold, she manages to cook up a whole feast. I hope this is okay!

Caterer

A/N: Fun fact, it takes me a long ass time to get to requests...so I hope you're still around anon 😅

CW:Fem! Reader

"Alright, you said you need food on Thursday for Sebek's birthday, right?"

"Yes, preferably by three."

"Okay, and you guys need food for the basketball club on Saturday?"

"Yeah. And Floyd wants to remind you he wants shrimp on the menu."

"Duly noted."

How did you get here? How did you become NRC's most popular caterer? Well…

Three months prior

You had stopped by the Heartslaybul Dorm to visit Trey, who was still recovering from his broken leg. It appeared you had stepped into a warzone.

"Sevens! What are we supposed to do?"

Riddle was pacing back and forth, while an exhausted Trey looked on.

"We can ask Octavinelle. I'm certain Azul will have dishes worthy of an unbirthday party."

"And be indebted to Housewarden Ashengrotto for the rest of my life? Absolutely not."

"Wait, you need food for an unbirthday party?" You finally piped in, startling both the boys.

"Yes, but as you can see, Trey is still incapacitated. And the freshmen he has been trying to train are not ready to take on the project."

"I can do it," you offered.

Again, both boys just stared at you.

"You do know the unbirthday party is…tomorrow, right?" Trey asked. "It's not that I don't believe in you, it's just a lot of food to take care of at the last second."

"Well, I don't believe in you," Riddle said dryly. "There's only one person I believe can pull off something like this alone, and he's laying in that bed."

"Thank you?" Trey questioned.

"Well, just for that, I'm gonna do it! Just to prove you wrong!"

"Y/N…"

"What time do you need the food by, housewarden?"

"1:30 tomorrow. Think you can handle that? Cause if not-"

"I know, I know. It's off with my head or whatever," and then you stormed off to the kitchen.

"Please don't be too hard on her…"

"It'll be her own fault for promising the impossible. That will be all on her."

….

Ace had wandered down for a late night snack. The closer he got, the more it sounded like someone was in the kitchen. Which didn't make sense, because Trey was still injured, so who could possibly…

"Sorry, no entrance if you aren't on the list."

He looked down to see Grim standing in front of the door like a bouncer.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean, rat?"

"It means you aren't allowed entrance. Cause you aren't on the list."

Ace knelt down to Grim's level with a smug grin.

"Oh yeah? And what are ya gonna do about it?"

Then the door opened, revealing you in an apron, covered in flour.

"Grim, please remove the distraction from the premises."

"I'm on it, oh great food master. He was just leaving," Grim responded, shoving Ace for good measure.

"Hey, wait, wait, wait! Whatcha cookin, I'm hungry!" Ace began attempting to push past Grim into the kitchen.

"Back off Ace. I'm not playing this game with you tonight. This is for the unbirthday party."

"Wait what? Dude, Trey starts like a week ahead of time, isn't that tomorrow? There's no way you're gonna finish anyway, just let me have a bite!"

You glared for a moment, before looking at your kitty companion.

"Grim, remove the trash please."

"Yes, my lady," he began kicking Ace's shins as you returned to the kitchen.

….

Ace returned the next morning, with an entourage of Jack, Epel, Sebek, Deuce, and, of all people, Jamil.

Before Ace could say something snide to you or your kitty bouncer, Jamil called into the kitchen,

"Hey, it's Jamil. I was wondering how things are going, or if you need any help?"

"Nah I'm good, but thanks for the offer," came your reply through the kitchen door.

"Ace and Sebek have 30 madol on you not finishing in time," Epel said with a snicker.

"Grim, tell Ace to fuck off."

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave," Grim said, kicking Ace's shins again.

Jack took the opportunity to speak to the door, "Y/N there's no shame in asking for help, it's a lot of food…"

"And Heartslaybul has the highest retention rate of all the dorms, so it's more food than any other dorm," Deuce added.

"It just can't be done, human! Allow the canine one to help you!" Sebek called.

"Look, Mr Doubter, I'm almost done. In fact, you be here at 1:30 to join the unbirthday party, so you can eat my food, and your words!"

There was a crashing sound from within, and all the boys almost burst through the door, if not for you peeking out from it yourself.

"Not to worry, I just hit an empty tray with my elbow, everything is okay. Now go away!"

The six boys, confused and concerned as ever, made their departure.

….

As the clock struck one, a crowd had set up outside the kitchen door. Students from nearly every dorm had huddled outside to see what the end result would be.

Then they heard a shout.

"Finito!"

And Grim hushed the crowd.

You emerged dramatically from the kitchen, and looked around at your audience, calm and collected as ever.

"I need some volunteers to set the table."

Immediately, some students joined you in the kitchen, and then they were parading out tray after tray, stacked high with shimmering desserts of all kinds; tarts, cookies, macarons, and a three tiered cake, decorated in red and white hearts. Then came the teas. It appeared you had brewed at least five varieties of teas.

The crowd outside stared in wonder. Silent murmurs of awe passed through the crowd, before Rook Hunt pushed his way to your side, kneeling at your feet.

"My Lady, Pomefiore would like to request your skills for a ball next weekend."

Before you could respond, Azul had elbowed his way forward, and placed an arm around your shoulders.

"Prefect, have you ever considered working for the Mostro Lounge?"

Leona somehow made his way over.

"Shove off, tako, the herbivore is going to be cooking for us!"

And thus, the Ramshackle Prefect became NRC's caterer. And no, you obviously are not getting paid for it. Who the fuck are you kidding?

....

Tag list-@shytastemakerthing @leonia0 @eccedentesiast-sapphic

#twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts #trey clover #ace trappola #deuce spade #jack howl #jamil viper #epel felmier #sebek zigvolt #rook hunt #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto

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miller-n-morgan · 3 days

Text

And I Feel Fine (.ii)

Joel Miller x Jackson!Reader

18+, mdni

Summary: A new journey lies ahead, and on the very first night you become sure of something that will completely change the trajectory of your entire future.

Warnings: leaving most of the warnings the same because they apply. mentions of death, violence, gore, blood, mentions of sex abuse and trafficking. Mentions of teenage pregnancy. Mention of drugs and substances. Again, literally has ✨️the works.✨️

Word Count: 7k (i'm going absolutely wild)

Now we're cookin'.... enjoy this slice of my brain that I spent entirely too long on. And also know that the first part of the Arthur Morgan series will probably drop this week.

“I ain’t shittin’ you.” You were fine to leave it at that, but he sure as hell wasn’t. For a guy that hated long conversations, he seemed to like poking around in your business. “And what makes you think that?” You honestly didn’t want to tell him. He’s not Tommy, he might make fun of you, might store away the information later on and use it against you. You have no idea, actually. You don’t know him.

Your contact had gotten you to an apartment. It was worn down, just as every other place in the QZ seemed to be, but it was better taken care of. The people living here must have been attentive about the appearance of their home. A good enough family to leave your baby with.

She stopped you in the hallway, knocking three times on the old wood door, hearing a lively voice from the otherside before it opened. The woman standing there was lovely, about thirty or so, a half smile on her face when she saw you both had arrived. This plan had been in the works for some time now.

“Hello, I’m Maxine Williams,” she greeted, reaching for your hand to shake. You did your best to match her kind and infectious energy, giving her a smile in return. She is after all going to be doing you the favor of a lifetime.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you replied, keeping your head low between your shoulders, though you felt comfortable in her presence.

She leaned into your contact, turning her head, but you heard the whisper “She’s so young…”

“S’why she needs help.”

You understood that this didn’t look right. You should not be pregnant at your tender age, should not have been put in this position. You’ve seen more horrific things than any person ever should, and it all started when you were eight… outbreak day.

“Of course… come in, both of you.”

The pleasantries went on for a while, exchanging information of where you came from, why you were in this area, what you did before being in Boston. She mentioned her husband, her two sons and their love for older things, wishing for the world the way it was. It was all just small talk, leading up to the actual conversation topic: the baby she was about to take off your hands.

“You’ll stay with us until the birth, if that’s okay,” she offered, but it sounded more like a demand. It wasn’t a harsh or cruel one. Even if you slept on the rickety couch you were lounging upon now, it would be better than camping in the woods, sleeping on the hard ground like you’d been doing only a month ago.

“I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

Your contact was happy to see both ends so receptive. She’d never seen a deal containing human life go down this smoothly. Probably because this was a bit more sensitive of an exchange.

“Good… that’s good. I’ve heard you’re interested in a closed adoption?”

You glanced down at your stomach, feeling the weight of it, crushing inwards on the rest of your body. Having this baby and giving it away will relieve the weight both physically and metaphorically. They’ll be in good hands, better than your own could ever be.

“I think it’s probably best. I used to have siblings, but I never really took care of them… I’m not sure I could do this,” You shook your head. You saw her younger son peeking his head out of the bedroom door in the corner, backing away as soon as you caught him. Even in an apocalypse, a child can be happy… just not with you. “I want to give them their best chance.”

“I understand… and we’re going to do our best to make sure they have a normal childhood,” she responded, leaning forward and placing a comforting hand on your knee.

“Thank you…”

You had sat down on one of the containment units, feeling as though the adrenaline rush from the ambush was beginning to wear off. Tommy found Maria not far away from where you were sitting, and began to ask his special favor. It was crazy, he knew it, you knew it… but it had to be done. This girl was somehow important, to the fireflies and to all of mankind, and you were starting to wonder why. Joel hadn’t said a word, sitting across from you and awaiting the news that would surely come from his brother’s discussion with his wife.

“So, you’ve been traveling with Ellie?”

He looked up at you from his boot laces, his eyes were heavy, and he didn’t seem in the mood to talk. He was grumpy in nature, but you could tell there was more underneath the tough exterior.

“I have.” And no further explanation was given.

You didn’t think it was best to keep trying your luck, keep on asking him questions. He wasn’t the talking type and you figured you’d be wasting your time… but speak of the devil, Ellie came up to him just as the conversation between Tommy and Maria was getting heated.

“What’s that all about?” She nodded in their direction. She looked scared, like a deer caught in headlights, just not as frozen. Wide eyed and unable to look away from the scene. “Does that have anything to do with me?”

She was smart, she’d pick up on the words they were saying - more like yelling - to each other. The context clues were there, Joel would have to be an idiot to think she’d just let him off the hook.

“We’ll talk about it later…” he grumbled, his annoyance already at a high from your unimportant questions and the fighting in the background.

“Did he tell you where the lab is?” She asked, her eyebrows furrowing as she got even closer to hear them.

The lab? Is that where the fireflies would be? You vaguely remember the days you spent with the resistance group, but you don’t remember anything about a lab…

“We’ll talk about it later,” he repeated himself, almost as a warning.

She turned to Tommy and Maria, then back to Joel, her face one of distrust and sadness. She knew, she could tell. Joel was trying to get rid of her.

You wanted to say something, to jump in and tell her that she didn’t need to be scared, didn’t need to be worried about where she was going. That you would go with her and it would be okay… but that wouldn’t help a damn thing. Even if you turn out to be her biological mother, you are most definitely not her mom, and cannot console her as one.

“Later… right,” she trailed, backing away from Joel and off to another sectional of the checkpoint.

Joel looked back to you, your eyes already on him.

He sighed, at first not saying a word… but when he made a full rotation of his eyeline and you were still staring holes into him, he had to speak up.

“If you’re lookin’ to judge me, then just-.”

“I’m not.”

Your interruption cut him off, and he didn’t really know what else to say. He nodded, not looking away from you, but rather trying to figure out what it is you needed from him. Your stare was not discomforting but it felt demanding. It wanted something.

“How long have you known her?” You finally spit out, tucking a leg under your elbow as you sat back. You knew you’d gotten his attention, now.

“Few months, now. I’m supposed to take her to the fireflies as a favor to someone.”

“What do the fireflies want with a fourteen year old kid?”

He sighed, raising his shoulders in a shrug like he didn’t know. He must’ve been lying, right? You’d gotten pretty good at reading people, but for some reason you couldn’t tell with him. Maybe you just didn’t know him well enough…

“M’not really sure. All I knew in the beginning was that I could get paid pretty well, so I took her.”

You nodded. He didn’t seem like the person that did things for the sake of them, Tommy had told you stories about him, the things he used to do. If it was for his survival, he’d do it… but just for the sake of getting paid? When barely anything left had real monetary value? It sounded like bullshit.

“She seems to trust you an awful lot,” you gestured between him and the empty space she’d left.

There was another beat of silence, to which he didn’t use for reply. Instead he sat, his back curled over and his shoulders sunken inwards. He was tired, he was worn. He needed to rest, but this life wouldn’t let him.

“She knows you’re handing her off…”

“I reckon she does, yeah.”

And right over your shoulder you heard the climax of Tommy and Maria’s argument. She held a pointed finger in his face, before he finally insisted on Joel’s plan. She couldn’t move him. He was going to do this whether she liked it or not… which is something you haven’t seen out of Tommy for years. Joel must mean a hell of a lot to him, to up and leave Maria on a dangerous errand like this.

You stay seated when Maria walks over to Joel, and then when Joel stands up to talk to Tommy. You stay seated and think… I can keep Tommy safe. I’ve got nothing to lose, and everything to gain from learning about this girl. I can bring him home to Maria, even if it means my life.

But you immediately stand when you hear Tommy’s rapid speech. “That girl of yours. she took one of our horses and rode off,” and then he glanced at you with an eyeroll. “She took provoker…”

You huffed a sigh, following the men over to the front of the sectional, the open trail up ahead. Maria was mad at Tommy, so obviously she wouldn’t be accompanying them… and that left you. Casper didn’t like men.

“Damnit, which way?” Joel asked, his steps were heavy on the muddy ground.

“I just saw her riding out of here!” Terry yelled, loosening the reins on two more horses he’d brought over for assistance.

“Alright, get back inside, help the others clean the place up,” Tommy told the man, nodding for you to mount the back of his horse after he’d climbed up himself. You chanced a look at Joel, riding across from you both. His face was mixed with anger and determination, and it reminded you of what Tommy looked like after hours of hunting. They were the epitome of brothers, though you’d never met the other half before.

You all followed the tracks, leading every which way it seemed. Some of the tracks were fresh, and some were older, but it was hard to tell when the grounds here were moist all the time, never really drying up and creating lasting prints on the dirt.

After a while of riding, and running into some raiders - who were easily fended off - you saw your horse standing in front of an old farmhouse, the reins tied to a pole holding up the roof of the porch. You jumped from Tommy’s mare and ran up to Casper, petting his mane and making sure he was alright. There didn’t seem to be a scratch on him.

You watched Joel enter the house, waiting back with Tommy. Even though Joel was the one she ran away from, you couldn’t imagine she’d be thrilled to see you or Tommy instead. Joel had a good reason to do what he did. He didn’t feel strong enough or fast enough for this job anymore. He didn’t feel like he could keep her safe. You unfortunately understood that feeling a little too well, and if you were correct on your suspicions, it would have been with the exact same kid.

Tommy unstrapped his gun from his back, holding it steady and watching the surroundings whilst he leaned against the porch beam you were standing by. He was trying to gage whether or not your horse was calm enough for him to approach you closer, knowing what would happen if he wasn’t.

“I think you’re right, you know…” He trailed, his voice quiet on the off chance of an open window.

“You do?”

You turned to him, you didn’t exactly have to think twice about what he meant.

“Yeah,” he nodded, a chuckle falling from his lips. “It makes sense… the timing n’ everything. She looks a hell of a lot like you… and she’s caused about as much trouble today as the first time I met you.”

“Causing trouble is genetic?” You laughed, your eyes watering a bit at the implications he made. She might be yours. Your daughter, who you didn’t think you’d see again.

“Hell, it might be. Your kinda trouble, anyway… stealin’ horses and shit.”

The nod of your head was slow, the thought of this all sinking in. It made perfect sense and yet coming to terms with the facts of ‘it is’ instead of ‘it could be’ makes you feel light headed.

You didn’t know if he was being serious or if he was just trying to make you feel better, but the look on his face told you the former. He wouldn’t just lie to you, he knew you could read him.

“I keep turning it over in my head, tryin’ to think of ways I could prove it to myself… I think just seein’ her was enough for me. I’m remembering things I thought I forgot about a long time ago.”

Now it was his turn to nod, but your moment was caught short when you heard a branch snap around the corner. You instinctively pulled your gun from your pants, holding it out in the direction the snap came from. Tommy raised his rifle, doing the same and gesturing for you to go inside. You both made it in the doorway before the threat made itself known. Two guys, coming around the corner. They hadn’t realized you were watching them yet, but they did a quick scan, making sure there wasn’t any immediate danger.

“Get upstairs,” he said in a whisper, but you snapped your head to face him.

“No way, the odds are even if I stay,” you argued, but he wasn’t exactly in the mood for a fight right now. It was too risky to have you both down here.

“Go tell Joel to get his ass down here, you stay up with the kid.”

“Like hell I’m going up there. Your brother scares me,” you say in a half joking mumble, keeping watch on the two strangers that were now surrounding your horse. They were about to get kicked in the ass if they didn’t step away.

Tommy realizes that them being distracted gives a good amount of time to leave without cover.

“Alright, but you first,” he shrugged a shoulder towards the staircase, and with one last glance to your horse, you left your corner by the window.

You quickly ran up the stairs, ducking a head in a few rooms before finding the one Joel and Ellie were in.

“Get it together, we’re not alone,” Tommy said as soon as you got inside the door.

“I got two walking in,” Joel leaned towards the sliding window to get some eyes on the situation.

“There’s more inside already…”

You backed against the door, Tommy against the dresser on the opposite side. Joel stepped over in front of you, and Ellie behind Tommy. You didn’t realize until now, but taking a glance at Ellie, she looked even worse than when she left. Her face was sullen and her head was dropped. She didn’t seem to be snapping into reality, even with the weight of the situation.

You stayed by her throughout the house, when Tommy and Joel started shooting, you stood in front of her, covering them from back behind. It was weird, these maternal feelings that had never sparked within you before, only now arising for this specific human that had no clue who you were.

Once outside, it seemed strange. The dynamic between the four of you was so incredibly awkward. Everyone was thinking on a different topic, and the silence could echo on for miles. You nodded for Ellie to mount the back of your horse, since she didn’t seem comfortable to ride with Joel for the time being. She climbed up behind you and for a second you smiled, because this is your daughter, you know it… but soon after, your mind quickly succumbed to the general silence.

The nature and scenery surrounding you seemed to be duller than before, the pretty autumnal colors becoming ugly in the sense that you didn’t appreciate them right now. You loved the beginning of fall, but the feelings spread among you are tense and terrible, worse than raking up the fallen leaves before winter.

The feeling never leaves, it stays until you all reach the edge of the town.

“I’m not hungry,” you swore, shoving the extra plate of food away from your placemat.

Manxine’s husband was hungry, and you’d noticed him and his wife being decent enough to give you some of their food the past few days. It wasn’t necessary, because you weren’t working, and you weren’t barely helping them. They were helping you, and you couldn’t be more grateful. Taking extra food that wasn’t just lying around felt like stealing. You’d never been a stranger to it before, but these people were far too kind, too gentle. They made you feel like maybe the world wasn’t completely at its end. It still turned, and people were still good, despite everything.

“Yes you are, and you should be,” Maxine pushed the plate back in front of you. Her goal had been to ‘put a little meat on your bones’ as long as you were under her roof.

“I’m fine, I promise.”

“Promise or no promise, you need to eat more. You’re still too thin to try and survive childbirth, ya hear?” She put the old fork back into your open hand, and you sighed. It was sometimes hard to eat more than you normally did, on the account of your body not being used to it. If you ate more than usual would it make you sick? If you threw up the extra rations they were spotting you, you’d feel terrible, but she kept insisting.

You opened your mouth to take a bite, swallowing it down and feeling the slight discomfort start to settle. Already you’d been eating a lot more than before the QZ, and you didn’t realize how slowly your appetite would have to grow.

After a few more bites you had to drop the fork to your plate, feeling too full already to keep on. You felt terrible, refusing extra portions that were meant to keep you healthy. Whether or not it was caused by the pregnancy hormones, or just your own emotional breakdown, you weren’t sure… but you started tearing up while sitting at the table.

“I’m sorry,” you shook your head, covering your mouth and sitting back while the tears rolled down.

“Don’t you apologize, sweetheart,” Maxine uttered softly, her presence at your side immediately.

To her, none of this effort was wasted, or overdone. She and her husband, though some of the better off people in the QZ by job merritt, couldn’t seem to have another baby. It wasn’t for the lack of trying, or stress that they couldn’t afford it. It was simply the fact that after six years from their last child, they couldn’t conceive another. This baby, your baby, was going to be a gift to them. They were happy to take any necessary steps into getting you to childbirth.

“I just can’t eat anymore,” you tried to justify your emotions, but now it only looked like an overreaction. People are dying without food, and here you are, crying about there being too much.

“It’s alright. Leftovers don’t go to waste in this house,” she spoke, a bit of a chuckle in her tone, which alleviated some of the pressure you felt.

“Okay,” you nodded, letting her take your plate to the other room, likely where her husband had retired to.

The campfire was crackling, the smoke filling the hazy navy color of the dark sky. Trees had covered it mostly, but there were a few stars peaking here and there. You’d just finished a can of chicken soup, tossing it on the pile that had been started by the others. It was crazy, how you suddenly remembered so much, just by eating food out of a can again. Days on the run, with the fireflies, being a raider even… it all came back.

It had only been a few hours or so since leaving Jackson, but after the fiasco of today, the three of you had gotten extremely tired a lot earlier than you should have.

The three of you meaning: Yourself, Joel and Ellie.

After the silence of the horse ride back to the commune, something had changed. Joel realized not only what Ellie meant to him, but what he means to Ellie. He’d decided Tommy was no longer required, and that he could fare the journey on his own. Of course, you immediately volunteered an extra pair of hands and a quick gun as assistance. To your surprise, it was Ellie who was your greatest advocate. Her, and the fact that you remembered the lab’s location, could probably get her there on your own if you had to.

The mirror building… you don’t remember it being a lab, but as soon as Tommy said the words it jogged your memory.

Now you were here, sitting with your back against a log, and staring holes into the shoulder of a fourteen year old girl.

“Whatch’u lookin’ at?” Joel asked, his arms crossed over his chest as he lazily reclined against a tree.

You only looked away for a second, too fixated on what was just barely peeking over the collar of Ellie’s shirt and jacket. It had fallen down a bit when she laid down to sleep.

“Nothin’,” you shrugged it off. He was a man of few words, surely he’d drop it on account of having to speak more if he didn’t… but God help him, he’s like a damn cat, his curiosity could kill him.

“You’re very focused on nothin’,” he teased. There was something off about you with Ellie, he’d taken notice of it. He didn’t know what it was about but it didn’t seem like a danger.

You rolled your eyes over to him, but could tell by his glance back that he wouldn’t quit. He’d already volunteered to take the first watch, and he had nothing else better to do.

“It’s a long story, you’d get bored.”

But again, he had nothing better to do.

“Try me,” he raised his shoulders in a shrug of his own. He seemed much more docile of a creature in this setting. The early hours of night, so quiet, and dimly lit. His voice was gentle and his features were soft. He was relaxed.

You took a deep inhale, trying to brace yourself for whatever came of this. He was a fresh face, someone new to explain an old wound to. The scar had finally healed and you were about to dig a blade back through and rip it open… but you suppose you’d sharpened the knife by coming along in the first place.

“I think Ellie’s my daughter,” you breathed out, not checking for a reaction until he’d been silent too long. His eyes were narrow, and he tilted his head, looking between you two. She was fast asleep by now, but he had a picture of her in his head, comparing it to you.

“You’re shittin’ me, right?”

You blew out another long breath, shaking your head and rolling your eyes. He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t know this feeling you have or the fact that you’ve never felt it before. He doesn’t understand that you’d come to peace with the fact that you’d never see her again, and then she appeared like a ghost from your past. You thought she was your past self at first, taunting you, making fun of who you were now.

“I ain’t shittin’ you.”

You were fine to leave it at that, but he sure as hell wasn’t. For a guy that hated long conversations, he seemed to like poking around in your business.

“And what makes you think that?”

You honestly didn’t want to tell him. He’s not Tommy, he might make fun of you, might store away the information later on and use it against you. You have no idea, actually. You don’t know him.

You let your eyes flick up to the stars, hoping by some miracle they will fall from the heavens in the form of angels to give you a message, that message being: shut the fuck up and don’t spill your guts to a man you met this morning.

“When I was thirteen, I was by myself. I fell into a weird group of people that could probably be considered a cult. There was this one guy that treated me better than the others…” you trailed off, not sure if you’re ready to rehash all of this. But it’s been a long time since you talked about it. You need to get it off your chest if you’re to somehow make a relationship with the product of your past. “He was in his twenties, so a lot younger than most people in the group. Pretty sure I was the youngest. I didn’t realize he was using me.”

Joel was tense, but not because he was uncomfortable… he was genuinely invested. Wanted to know this story and how it connected with Ellie. His Ellie.

“We left the group, and I found out I was pregnant a few months later. I’d barely had my cycle a fucking year… wasn’t even sure what it meant when I didn’t get it. Anyways,” you had to stifle a laugh, because just looking back… what the actual hell? You kept blinking to make sure no tears escaped in front of this man. You weren’t there yet with him. “I think he just lost all interest in me after that. He didn’t really speak to me unless it was necessary, and wouldn't look at me. Stuff like that.”

But that wasn’t the worst part, and Joel knew you were working your way up to it.

“Before I was pregnant I used to sneak into places most people couldn’t. I was real skinny like that. Was able to smuggle stuff in and out of different QZs across the country. We peddled rare narcotics for the most part… but I had to stop when I, you know…” you made a round hand motion around your stomach, hoping he got the jist. “I didn’t fit in the smaller spaces.”

“What kind of narcotics?” Joel finally asked a question, and it wasn’t really the one you were hoping for… but you understood he’d probably fallen into the same scheme over the years.

“Vicodin, mostly. Up in Princeton there was this one apartment… we’d searched it top to bottom because of how many secret hiding places there were. Vicodin everywhere. Whoever lived there was either severely addicted or preparing for the worst.”

“Maybe both.”

Yeah, probably. Damn shame he never got to use them.

“We used it as a trading token most of the time. It was actually what got us into Boston,” you waved off your tangent eventually, getting back to the story and where Ellie came in. “Pretty much gave the rest of our stash to a contact we had there… she got us a family we could hand the baby off to.”

And now he got it. You’d been knocked up by a predator, and said predator wanted you to give up the baby so he could go about using you some more. He’d seen and done some cruel things in a post apocalyptic world, but he would never stoop that low, and grimaced at anyone who possibly could.

“I had her when I was fourteen. Lookin’ at her today was like looking in a mirror,” you rambled on, still not quite to your point. “She’s the right age, from the right location… and that birthmark on her shoulder…”

He hadn’t even noticed it all this time. Months with the kid, and he thought nothing of it. But to you, it was clarification. It was the confirming piece of evidence that pulled it all together. You’d barely taken your eyes off of it since you saw it. You wanted to make sure you weren’t seeing things. Wanted to make sure it was the right shape and placement, just so you could be sure.

He nodded, seemingly coming to this conclusion now, too. It didn’t take him any more convincing. It was clear by now that your hunch was not just a hunch.

“Her dad, he still… around?”

You shook your head with a light hearted laugh.

“No,” and you could have left it with that simple answer… but that was never much your style. “I shot him in the head.”

His low whistle cut the air, and you almost felt proud. You’d killed the one thing in life that ever hurt you directly.

“He deserved worse.”

“Yeah, he did.”

And then it was quiet for a minute, all the words the two of you had spoken up until now were rotating over and around in your heads to make sense of them, until he spoke up again.

“I’m sorry,” he nearly whispered.

“S’okay. Not your fault…” you shook it off. It’s in the past, it’s done.

“Not yours either,” he replied, raising a brow to you. “M’just, sorry you went through that.”

He was soft, he was gentle. You supposed he was like Tommy. He didn’t judge you or make you feel inferior because of your tragic mishappenings. He just listened, and felt sympathy.

“I don’t mind it so much now… I got her back.”

And both your gazes shifted to the sleeping teenager, her breaths steady with the humming of the night around you. She has no clue, and for now you’ll have to keep it that way.

Yeah, you think… I got her back.

It only took two weeks. Riding, eating, sleeping, and talking, rinse and repeat. There was the odd occasion of dealing with infected, but they were never in large groups, and cleared out easily.

You remembered exactly where to go when you entered the city limits, guiding them towards the college campus you once lived in as a firefly. It was almost ten years ago, but you remember it pretty well. It’s where you met Tommy. Not in the lab, obviously. You’d both been put on security detail one morning, having never met beforehand. He proceeded to ‘teach you’ how to shoot a rifle properly, only to find you could hit a perfect bullseye on your first shot. Probably because your dad was a man who loved his guns, and you’d been shooting one since you were a kid before the outbreak. He laughed about it, and you two were friends ever since.

“Are you getting any of this?” Ellie asked you, pulling you from your thoughts as you rode alongside them.

For the last hour, Joel was attempting - and failing - to explain the rules of football to the young Miss Ellie. And she didn’t understand one lick of it, not that you blame her. You’d been to actual football games in your youth, but you couldn’t get it even then.

“Nope, I was always more of a baseball fan…” you trailed, and smiled at the thought. Baseball was fun, you remember it well. It was your biggest obsession right before ballet, and right after fingerpainting.

“Oh really, now?” Joel cut in, his surprise evident in his raised eyebrow and tilted gaze in your direction.

“Yep. You’re looking at the MVP of the Acorn’s jr. little league team.”

Ellie laughed. She didn’t know a thing about baseball either. She’d seen some old collectors cards though here and there. Apparently they used to be valuable. They were only knick knacks to anyone who saw them now.

“What position did you play?”

“Shortstop… or second base, technically. No shortstop in jr. little league,” you admitted. Your dad always called you shortstop, so that’s what you tell people now. Anyone who asks, at least. You can count on one hand the number of people who have.

“Seein’ you around infected… I bet you swung like hell,” he chuckled. Ellie was still confused about the rules of the last sport, much less how to play this one… but she listened intently because Joel was interested, so she was interested too.

“I always got on base, didn’t always stay there, but always got on. Plus, I was the only kid who never picked their nose at the plate, so… Obviously I earned my title.”

“That must’ve been an amazing accomplishment. How old were you?”

From what he understood, you’d been eight on outbreak day. You couldn’t have been too much younger to have started a sport, right?

“Probably six or seven at the time. I did ballet after, had kind of a short attention span when it came to after school activities,” you explained, a smile on your cheeks when you spoke about the things you used to love doing. You probably would still like doing some of them, had they been an option in Jackson.

“I know about ballet!” Ellie jumped in, nearly scaring Joel off the horse. “That’s the dancers that used to wear those weird shoes and shit.”

“Pointe shoes?” You chuckled, more at Joel trying to compose himself than Ellie’s funny recollection of footwear.

“Yeah, those. They looked like torture devices in some of the paintings I saw… did you ever wear any?”

“No, I would have had to train for about five more years to have gotten to that point. That was the dream at the time, to be a pointe ballerina. Of course, the end of the world happened…”

Joel turned to you from his forwards facing stare, a sadness in his eyes before he looked back onto the road ahead of him. Was that… pity? You were slowly learning to read him, his little mannerisms and tells that made him like everyone else, yet just a tad different, in a way that only he could be.

“Maybe after all this is over you can teach me some steps,” she suggested, but you scoffed.

“Maybe,” you shook your head at how funny the thought sounded in your head. You’d only danced for what? Ten months at most? And as an eight year old? “I think you’ll probably be too busy with Joel’s guitar lessons.”

She laughed it off, shaking her head and leaning it back onto Joel’s shoulder in front of her. The three of you kept along until reaching the building you remembered, but instantly it was a disappointment. The fireflies weren’t here, and likely hadn’t been for over a year.

“This isn’t right. There should be a checkpoint set up and a security blockade surrounding the place,” you mentioned, getting off your horse and running up to the door in the front. You peeked inside, and there was no sign of life anywhere.

“You’re kidding,” Ellie grumbled.

Joel dismounted the horse and followed after you, looking around and trying to find any signs that they might have been here at all.

“You sure this is the right place?”

“Positive. I remember this building, I met Tommy right over there,” you pointed down the sidewalk, where a half torn down barricade of cement was still sitting, but just barely. You walked to the corner of the crumbling stairs and grabbed a piece of old broken up brick, chucking it through the front door in order to unlock it.

Joel chuckled for a moment at your frustration, watching the scene play out.

“Baseball… right,” he teased, leading the way inside with you and Ellie in tow.

Maxine’s boys were at Fedra school. Her husband was at work in a different sector. Maxine herself was trading ration cards for supplies. It was the first time she’d left the apartment since you’d been there, and of all days, of all mornings for it to happen… your water broke.

You were alone, and scared. You weren’t allowed to leave the apartment for fear of the neighbor’s suspicion. Maxine’s family would be torn apart by Fedra if anyone found out what was going on, so no matter how terrified you were, you couldn’t risk going outside for help.

“Not now,” you cried, the tension in the pit of your stomach slowly turning to pain when your first contraction started. “Please, kid, I’m begging.”

You suck down against the wall of the living room, trying to find a sitting position that doesn't kill you from the pain. You wished more than anything you had some of those pain pills left over from the exchange, but they would probably only hurt you right now.

“Please, don’t,” you tried to even your breathing, the tears crawling down your cheeks at a fastening rate. “I can’t do this…”

The walls were closing in, you weren’t prepared for this. It didn’t seem to be the right time, either… but it was happening, and there was absolutely nothing you could do to stop it. The baby was coming, and if you wanted to live to see another day, you were going to have to get your head straight, and push it out of you.

You didn’t know how long you’d have, but from the time your water broke to the last contraction, things were moving relatively quickly. You were still on the ground against the wall, biting down on the sleeve of your shirt to try and not make noise.

You hoped and prayed that you would not deliver this baby on your own, but it looked like that was your only option right now. They had all left around an hour ago, they would be gone all day.

“I don’t know what to do, kid… help me out here,” you cried out again, but the baby didn’t exactly listen. You felt more weight bearing down on your lower half by the minute, and all you could do was panic.

It had happened so fast, the attack. Too fast, nothing you guys could have prepared for. It was all within minutes, and the ringing in your ears following your last gunshot seemed to put everything in slow motion. The way Ellie was yelling but you couldn’t hear it, the man that was coming up from behind you, and the one that was wrestling with Joel near the edge of the rail.

Too fast, the man on your rear grabbed at you and pulled backwards, keeping you from being able to stop Joel’s attacker… You got trapped in a headlock, a gun to your temple, and another man was about to get Ellie. Joel and his attacker broke through the railing, tumbling over the edge and falling into God knows what. You sunk deadweight in the man’s arms, letting Ellie shoot him with her raised gun before you shot the man coming for her.

She ran to the edge first, freezing as she looked down. You followed and peered over, unsure what you would see.

“Shit,” you lowered yourself to a sitting position before scooting off the edge and dropping down to where he was. Your voice was in a panic “Joel?”

He was alive, but fatally injured if you didn’t get him out of here right now.

“I’m gonna need you to pull,” he managed to get out through gritted teeth. His face was scrunched in pain, and you knew better than anyone how hard it was to stay quiet when you’re hurting that bad.

“You could bleed out,” you shook your head, kneeling down and flinging off your backpack. Digging through, you only have the most basic of supplies… nothing substantial enough to stop mass amounts of blood, or, worst case scenario, a deadly infection.

“Just pull, damnit,” he grunted, offering his hand.

By now Ellie had come down, watching in fear as the only figure of importance in her life was nearly on his deathbed. It couldn’t be exaggerated because it really was that bad. He could drop down at any moment and never get back up, but he kept pushing on.

You did as he asked, hoisting him to a stand, letting him lean on you for support. Ellie went on ahead, leading the way as she cleared the place with her own gun. You had to assist here and there, unwilling to let Ellie get shot on account of holding Joel up on his feet.

It was practically a miracle that any of you made it outside. Your horse had already taken care of a raider, it seemed, the man lying unconscious on the ground behind him. He likely got to close, touched him, even. Ellie shot the last obstacle standing between you and an escape, and once he was cleared, you mounted your horses, helping Joel onto his, first.

You rode in front of them, looking for a place to take shelter. Looking for an empty house, or gas station even. Anything would work, as long as it was safer than here. You rode for miles down the road, unsure if there were people in the area. You’d finally reached a neighborhood of substantial size, with no signs of life or proof of human activity.

But before you could even find a safe shelter…

“Joel? Joel!”

And you quickly turned around. Joel fell off the horse, out like a light.

Tags: @orcasoul

#joel miller #reader insert #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #the last of us #joel

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seren1tyhaze · 1 year

Text

cookin' get dirty

PAIRING: chef!mark x afab reader (ft. jeno)

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

SUMMARY: everything in your relationship with your talented chef boyfriend mark is great, except for one thing missing in the bedroom (but he's eager to learn this recipe)

WARNINGS: food imagery, explicit smut, brief cigarette smoking, profanity, some fluffy plot bc i'm a plot lover

PLAYLIST: you already know...Golden Hour

ladies just wait for me, good girl I got a really big

problem

—

“AGAIN! This isn’t what I asked for!” came a booming voice, filling the crowded and hot kitchen.

“Yes, chef!” the blonde man standing over the stove replied while carefully monitoring three boiling pots of water. The steam was causing condensation to form on his furrowed brow, pushing damp bangs into his skin.

Another set of hands came up suddenly next to his, grabbing two of the pots and dumping them into a nearby sink.

“Thanks, J,” muttered Mark quietly, eyeing the back of their boss who was now crowding the space of another prep cook. Jeno laughed and shook his head, filling the pots with water again and returning them to the stove top.

“You’ll get this, it’s one of his tests, you know that,” Jeno replied, brushing a hand lightly over the back of Mark’s black jacket. He carefully opened another carton of quail eggs and helped Mark prepare the pots for poaching.

“I have done this hundreds of times at home, I don’t know what it is about being here that makes it different. It’s like I lose all confidence when I enter this kitchen. I know I am ready for sous chef and he knows it too,” Mark spoke in hushed tones, annoyance filling his voice.

He had been working in a popular Korean fusion restaurant in Toronto for nearly a year and still hadn’t managed to impress the head chef enough to move up the chain. He had taken a demotion to take this job, wanting desperately to study the techniques they were known for.

A Michelin star for the restaurant was close, or at least that’s what those “in the know” were muttering behind closed doors, and Mark didn’t want to miss the chance to be more than a prep cook when that happened. Jeno was already working under the pastry chef as a main cook, his white jacket ever the symbol of envy for Mark, despite how happy he was for his friend.

Prep was finished for the dinner reservations and the two men slid out through the loading dock door for a smoke, the chilled air pushing their hair up as they leaned against the brick wall of the building.

“Everything else good, man? You seem tense lately,” Jeno tagged onto the end of a long exhale.

“Yeah, I guess…” Mark trailed off, eyes seemingly getting lost in the hazy night sky. His hand was fidgeting, ashing the cigarette repeatedly with each movement.

“Everything good with your girl?” Jeno tried, eyes narrowing lightly, knowing Mark could have a few different reactions to his prying question.

Mark paused, taking a quick drag off the cigarette in his hand before inhaling deeply into his lungs, flicking the butt to the ground and crushing it under his shoe. He shook his head in reply, moving to the door and gesturing towards it.

That was enough of an answer for Jeno, who merely chuckled and ruffled Mark’s hair as he followed him back to the kitchen. He had known Mark long enough to know when he wanted to talk and when Jeno should just drop it (and probably pressure Jaemin during their next workout into spilling what he knew).

Later that night, as Mark is making you both a late dinner after your long shifts, he stands silently at the stove top in your apartment’s small kitchen. He is watching two perfectly over easy eggs sizzle in the pan, eyes narrow and sleepy despite his mind running a million miles a minute.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Mark Lee?” you ask softly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck in a comforting gesture.

“Do I ever disappoint you?” he asks softly, lifting his chin lightly to meet your gaze, pushing the pan off the hot burner and reaching for some fresh green onion he had sliced moments before.

“Disappoint me?” you repeat, concern lacing your words as you carefully push for more context with a tilt of your head.

“Like…I mean…” Mark started, pausing to fluff rice in the rice cooker and season it before moving large spoonfuls into two waiting bowls. He adds an egg to each bowl on top of the steaming rice before topping with a dried spice seasoning from an unmarked jar.

You move to sit at the small corner table in the kitchen, reaching into the fridge for the kimchi container and water pitcher.

Mark sits your dish down in front of you before turning to grab a beer from the fridge, feeling the need for some liquid courage to continue the conversation he knows he needs to initiate.

“Mark, you’re freaking me out,” you reply as you move to mix your rice, never taking your eyes off your boyfriend’s worried face.

He smiles weakly in response, taking his spoon to the yolk in the middle of the egg, shimmering and wet, taunting him. He hovers over the golden center with the wooden utensil, bringing his eyes back up to you.

“Are there things you wish…I was better at?” he asks, tilting his bowl towards you, as if asking about the egg.

“Is this about what happened at work today? You know he’s just an asshole young chef on a power trip that is intimidated by you. You know you know how to make eggs, Mark,” you reply, almost laughing at the absurd question.

He had worked so hard for everything in his career so far but you also knew how much pressure he put on himself.

“Not cooking…like…um, I don’t know, like in bed?” he asks with an uncertain and unreadable tone.

You sigh, dropping your head lightly as realization spreads through your brain. Reaching a hand out, you lightly place it over his free hand, gripping his fingers in a warm embrace.

“Babe, I promise, I am completely happy with everything we do in the bedroom,” you reply, bringing a light smile to your lips, hoping to reassure him.

When you had first met Mark in a loud nightclub at 4:00AM on a random Tuesday, you knew he would either be the perfect match for your own crazy work schedule or a complete fuck boy one night stand. Turns out, his tall, strong jawed friend Jeno who had gone home with your best friend that night was the fuck boy and Mark was a sweetheart looking for his first love. Not that your friend was complaining about her night with Jeno, when she gets tipsy she still talks your ear off about his broad shoulders, small waist, and massive dick.

Everything about falling in love with Mark had been romantic and a whirlwind. You quickly got swept away by his silly ramblings about all the things he loved about you (some true, others exaggerations), bouquets of flowers (despite your pollen allergy), and cheesy hand scribbled notes (that you found in every pocket of every jacket you left in his car). Within a few months you were moving into his far too small apartment, close to the busy street filled with restaurants you had never dreamt of dining at prior to meeting him.

Each date was Mark trying to impress you with good food and drinks, using every connection he had ever made to wine and dine you at chef’s tables and in private back rooms. None of that had mattered to you but you were happy to indulge him in his passions.

Nights with Mark were more sweet than spicy, his vivacious personality that had women fawning over him everywhere you went, seemingly melting away the minute the two of you were alone. You weren’t unhappy by any means, sex with Mark was tender and passionate, but didn’t usually stray beyond what you would consider to be the basics.

The night you had first tried to push past a steamy make out session on his couch, he had blushed deeply and confessed that he didn’t have much experience, hands hovering over your waist nervously. You had reassured him that you didn’t care and that everyone’s journey was different and things were different with every partner anyways.

You gave him (according to him) the “best fucking blow job in the entire galaxy” (sure, buddy) and you had seen stars riding his cock right there in the living room with (regretably) Gordon Ramsey screaming at Master Chef contestants in the background.

What Mark seemed to be asking was about one part of your sex life that was notably missing - him returning the favor from your blow jobs.

It had become clear the first time the situation arose that Mark had never given anyone head before and at the time you had chuckled lightly, kissing him sweetly and moving on without much discussion about it. How were you supposed to tell your otherwise perfect boyfriend that most guys you dated had no clue what they were doing down there, even with coaching? You had fallen into your own patterns and while you hoped eventually to get there again, it didn’t bother you.

“If you’re talking about eating me out, we can always try that again if you want,” you add softly, feeling suddenly silly talking about this at the kitchen table.

Mark blushed deep red, shaking the long hair from his eyes, inadvertently pulling his hand from yours to tuck a stubborn strand behind his ear.

“I just…I know…like…” Mark stammered out his reply, eyes flicking back down to the untouched egg in his bowl, undoubtedly becoming cold with each passing minute.

“What if you don’t…you know…” he added, finally crashing his spoon down into the yolk, the sudden impact spreading it quickly across the sticky rice below. He watched as each grain became drenched in the shimmering liquid, the surface of the dish becoming glazed and inviting.

“What if I don’t come?” you finished for him, following his gaze to the oozing golden egg dripping lazily off the edge of his spoon. “Don’t worry about that - I’ll teach you what to do.”

Mark nodded silently, finally letting himself take a long swill of his beer and start eating. The two of you finished the meal in comfortable silence, finishing up as you usually did by listening to soft music while cleaning the dishes together.

~~~

A few hours later your eyes were becoming heavy as you pulled yourself closer into his bare chest, the soft hum of the tv signifying the end of the show the two of you were trying to catch up on.

You jump slightly when Mark brushes a soft hand over your collarbone, playing with your bra strap exposed by the stretched neckline of the old t-shirt you were wearing.

“Ticklish?” he chuckled, pushing a kiss onto the same spot, tongue darting out briefly to connect with your warm skin.

“Oh we’re teasing tonight, are we?” you asked lightly, pulling his chin up to connect his lips easily with yours. He’s kissing you differently, no doubt as a result of the conversation earlier, and suddenly you are wide awake, arousal pooling in your stomach.

Mark places strong hands on your waist, sliding up the hem of your shirt to grip at the bare skin, sliding you quickly over onto his lap. Your eyes widen mid-kiss as you feel his erection through his gray sweatpants, pushing into your clothed core, only covered by thin cotton sleep shorts.

Dragging his lips down your neck, you can’t help but feel a shift in the way he’s touching you tonight, a surge of eagerness suddenly there that hasn’t always been his style.

“I want to make you feel good, baby,” he all but purrs in your ear, dragging sharp teeth over your ear lobe as punctuation. His voice sounds strained but he has dropped it down in his register in just the way he knows makes your toes curl.

“Bedroom. Now,” you manage to reply, dragging him by the hand a few steps to the open door and pulling him on top of you on the unmade bed.

It doesn’t take very long until he is grinding his length against your shorts, pulling a hand through the strands of hair splayed across your forehead. Both of you are breathing heavy by this point, the awkward conversation earlier having served as discrete foreplay that then simmered low and slow and pushing you towards a boiling point in this moment.

Your eyes are searching his for the next step, still wanting to respect that he could have changed his mind.

“Let’s do this,” he states very matter of factly, quickly moving to remove your shorts and pushing your long shirt up to bunch up just below your breasts.

You prop yourself up on your elbows, trying to keep a neutral expression on your face to match Mark’s serious stare down he is giving your spread legs. He kneels in between them, reaching a hesitant hand out to stroke your inner thigh, cocking his head to the side as if studying the challenge facing him.

“Think about this like you do when learning how to cook a new dish,” you try, hoping the metaphors bubbling up in your mind will land with the lust-laden man sitting pretty in front of you.

“Going slow is always good and no matter what, I know your tongue is going to make me feel good. It’s kind of like kissing,” you add, running your own tongue over your bottom lip in anticipation.

He simply nods, dropping his head down between your propped up knees, mouth suddenly very close to your exposed center. You can feel his breath across your folds and it makes you shiver as you lift your torso higher, hoping to give yourself a better view.

“Start slow with your finger,” you suggest, pushing your own index finger into your mouth and swirling your tongue around it to gather some saliva before dropping it down, rubbing a few circles to show him what you mean.

Mark is swatting your hand away quickly, mimicking the actions by popping two fingers in his own mouth before dropping them down, pushing them experimentally against your folds, applying the lightest of pressure.

“You can push a little harder,” you suggest, feeling your chest and neck heat up at the contact.

He follows your instructions with ease, pushing slow circles as you feel yourself get more and more aroused.

“That’s good,” you sigh out, letting our head drop back in a moment of relaxation, trying to take a mental picture of this moment. You let him continue in this way, not prompting him to move faster in hopes to edge yourself as long as possible to get the most out of each moment. You’re drinking in the heat that’s radiating off him as he stares intensely at his own fingers moving, eyes flicking up every once and a while yet still avoiding eye contact.

“First course - passing grade,” you say with a wink once you become adjusted to his slow and gentle movements, settling into the warm sensation spreading across your body.

He sits back, smiling slightly, nerves still apparent by the look in his eyes. You pull yourself up, removing your t-shirt in a quick movement, nipples perking up at the sudden exposure to the cool air circulating in the room.

“Now, second course…” you trail off, bringing the same hand he had been using on you to your chest, his hand instinctively cupping your full breast once he made contact with your skin.

You let him massage you briefly before tugging at his chin, running your thumb across his plush lower lip, silently encouraging him to put his mouth on you. He moves himself higher, pushing up on his knees to slide up your torso, dragging his tongue across your navel as and dotting kisses along your abdomen as he finally takes your painfully hard nipple in between his teeth, flicking it expertly with his tongue. You knew he needed no instruction here.

“Don’t stop touching me though,” you breathe out, feeling him push into your throbbing core slightly harder at the sound of your strained voice. You are feeling your breathing pick up and know you can’t possibly hide how much he is affecting you. You shake your head lightly, remembering the task at hand and that you are supposed to be guiding him.

“Now, when you’re ready, go ahead and do that same thing down there,” you speak slowly, trying to regulate your own breathing as you move closer to being overstimulated.

Mark visibly gulps, slowly removing his fingers from you and bringing them up to his lips, slipping his tongue out to dart over them and taste what he had gathered.

Your eyes widen when he does this, surprised at his deviation from your lesson plan (not that you’re complaining). The way he darts his tongue out and flattens it against the tips of his pointer and middle finger to clean them off has you squirming on the sheets.

He smiles at your reaction, clearly proud of himself as he ducks his head down between your legs again, face impossibly close once again. Carefully, as if you were made of glass, he darts his tongue out, pushing impossibly slow and licking a long stripe precisely where his fingers had just been.

You dig your fist into the comforter, balling up a large section to grip onto. Jesus, he was good at this already. Of course he was good at this.

“You can use your lips too, almost as if you’re kissing me,” you speak quietly, trying to clear your throat of the moan bubbling up through your raspy words. He shouldn’t be bringing you this close so soon but the anticipation for this moment has had you horny since he first touched you on the couch.

Mark’s lips on yours feel warm and unbearably sexy, alternating between light kisses and kitten licks as he begins to gather wetness on his mouth.

He experiments by pushing his tongue up higher, clearly knowing he needs to start looking for your clit. You know you’ll have to help him here but are also pleasantly surprised when he gets pretty close on his first try. You bring a gentle hand down to his silky hair, pulling slightly to readjust his position and pull him in a little closer.

You feel like you can hear him smile against you when you do this, but know you must be imagining that he is enjoying being guided and coached by you through this intimate moment. He can’t possibly be wanting to be bossed around by you like this…right? No chance.

When his tongue pushes up against your clit you suck in a sharp inhale, humming out an incoherent statement as he pushes against it again, beginning to make the same small circles you had showed him with your finger.

“That’s it, right there, baby,” you babble, letting your head slam against the pillow beneath it, pushing your hand further into his hair without having to readjust his position this time. You whine out his name to encourage him as your eyes roll back into their sockets, not sure how much longer you can hold on.

You almost tip over the edge when he accidentally drags his teeth across a sensitive spot and you hear a small apology from below and choose to ignore it for the moment and try to tamp down the moan that almost escapes from your lips at the contact. That’s honors level course work and you were too close to go into all that.

Every lap of his tongue sends you closer and closer to the edge and your eyesight has started to become fuzzy as you rapidly approach your orgasm. He’s not making much noise but every once and a while you feel a small whimper or moan vibrate across your pussy, his death grip on your ass giving you some confidence that he is enjoying himself.

Your release hits you with a jolt, every part of your body throbbing as you almost knock Mark in the head as your knees instinctively pull together in ecstasy. He slows his tongue movements and you can hear him gasping for air below you as he is being suffocated by your warmth. You can’t control your screams as you slam a hand over your mouth, feeling only slightly sorry for the neighbors at such a late hour. He keeps lapping at you like he’s starving, your eyes squeezed shut as your mouth hangs open in pleasure.

He finally emerges, hair a mess, lips dripping and chest heaving. He looks filthy and you stare at him with wide eyes, in shock. Without saying a word, he drags a finger across your sensitive core, examining it before sliding his tongue slowly across the tip, pulling it back into his mouth.

“If you don’t get over here and kiss me, I will fail you and you will have to retake this course, chef,” you manage to croak out, lifting a hand weakly towards him with all the energy you could muster. It was going to be a long night.

~~~

“You’re on fire, Lee,” Jeno hissed the next day as he helped Mark plate 12 perfectly poached quail eggs, eyes sparkling wildly as he gripped his shoulder with a strong hand. He bent his head down closer to lower his voice under the dull hum of kitchen noises and chatter.

“What changed? You walked in here today like some cocky god and I heard him talking to the other head chefs just now and it’s looking fucking good for your promotion.”

Mark simply shrugged, a devious grin spreading across his lips as he nudges Jeno’s hand off his shoulder to let him wipe the edge of the plates.

He grabs a long handled spoon and dips it into the dish of hollandaise sauce, dragging his finger slowly across the back of the spoon and darting his tongue out to quickly clean the tip of his finger with a smacking sound, not breaking eye contact with Jeno.

“I guess I just learned how to make eggs.”

~~~

part two ft jeno? anyone? hehe.

#mark lee smut #mark lee fanfic #nct smut #nct fanfic #nct dream smut #golden hour #nct x reader #mark lee x reader

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