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moonsgemini · 3 days

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cherry wine - firefighter!rafe

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summary: who knew career day would involve a hot sexy mustached firefighter wanting to take you on a date.

warnings: teacher!reader x firefighter!rafe, mutual pining, fluff, a little self doubt, lots of flirting, sexual innuendos, talk of sex but no smut

an: that pic is how I picture firefighter!rafe, I don’t think I need to elaborate any more. title will make more sense in the second part, hope you all enjoy!! & yes this will be a part 2 of the date hehehe. I did not proof read this so my bad

masterlist - part two

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This day could not end sooner. I had been the most chaotic day trying to consistently wrangle a bunch of nine year olds. It was the third grade’s career day at the school you taught at.

The day has been filled with moving from station to station and learning about new careers. Some were a little more interesting than others. It was hard to get the kids to leave the lizard wrangler but they didn’t care much for the optometrist.

Some of the lovely volunteers were kind enough to provide treats for the kids which only made their energy sky rocket. It was your first year teaching and even though you felt confident in your abilities to handle the kids you still tripped up a bit. A kid scraped his knee running from the hair stylist to the park ranger. You were a bit busy untangling a brush out another students hair to tell him not to run. It had been a lot.

Now it was nearing closer to the bell ringing and your weekend starting. You were definitely going to need a drink after today. Career day led up to the fire department coming and showing the kids every tool, button, and switch on their trucks. It would give you and your fellow teachers some time to relax as they all sat around the parking lot waiting for them to arrive.

“You survive today?” Martha asked as she stood next to you. The two of you started at this school together, both being first time teachers. That alone strengthened the immediate bond you had with the curly haired woman.

You let out a tired laugh, “Barely, you?”

She nodded, “Barely.”

You looked around briefly to make sure students weren’t listening to you two, “Winnie’s tonight?”

She grinned happily, “Thought you’d never ask. I could use a drink or ten.”

“Agreed.” You nodded.

That’s when you all spotted the two trucks approaching. The kids started to cheer and scream as they honked.

Martha leaned in to murmur, “At least we get to end the day with hot men with mustaches.”

That’s when it hit you. You hadn’t even thought about that all day. Now your hair was a mess and your light makeup all practically gone.

“I didn’t even think about that. I look like a mess,” You muttered.

“Oh please you look good. Even after wrangling twenty five children all day.”

You nudged her with a grin. The trucks parked in front of the students and the firefighters began filing out. The principal stood in front introducing them and what they were going to do.

Martha was right. Hot fireman indeed. There were six guys and they all began introducing themselves. You tried your hardest to pay attention to each one and watch your kids, but it was hard when one particular firefighter stood out.

He looked younger than the rest with his bleached hair and untrimmed mustache. His biceps bulged in his navy tee shirt as he crossed his arms over his chest. He looked so big and broad you wanted to melt. His eyes scanned the crowd as the guy next to him began introducing himself. That’s when his eyes passed you and did a double take. At least that’s what you hoped that was. He made eye contact with you and a small smirk began forming on his lips. Not looking away as your face began to heat up from his stare.

You looked away briefly as your nerves bubbled. When you looked back he was still looking at you and that smirk had gotten wider. Even when it was his turn to introduce himself he didn’t look away.

“Hi everyone I’m Rafe, I’ve been a firefighter for three years now. I also help train the new fire dogs to be able to help us out when we need them,” He finished giving the crowd a big smile. He finally looked away from you as he rubbed his mustache.

The presentation was supposed to be and hour but it somehow felt like five minutes. Probably because you couldn’t look away from someone in particular. He was just so handsome. The way his back muscles tightened and arms bulged as he picked things up had you feeling butterflies in places you didn’t know were possible.

This was not like you to get so dumbstruck by a man. You should know better that attractive fireman should not be trusted. But damn was he good to look at.

Rafe was grateful that he had decided to sign up to volunteer for career day at the schools. He liked seeing how excited kids got at their job so he was doing it solely for that. He didn’t expect to lay eyes on the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. At first he thought the teachers were all going to be his mom’s age older, but nope. He had been very wrong.

As him and the guys went through their presentation he couldn’t help but glance over at her any chance he got.

Even the mom’s who arrived early to get a glimpse of them weren’t enough to distract him. Even after first setting his eyes on her he knew he was going to do everything in his power to talk to her.

The firefighters stayed until all the kids had been picked up so they didn’t get stuck in the after school traffic. Rafe was thankful they didn’t get a call either or else he would have missed his chance. He looked over to where you were waving goodbye to your last student of the day and saw his open window.

He pat Javier on the back leaving him to wind up the hose himself, “Be right back.”

He stood up with a furrowed brow, “Of course Cameron.” He muttered as he said the blonde stride over to the pretty teacher.

You were texting Martha as you began walking to your class to see if she was already at Winnies. She had gotten out earlier as all her students were picked up already. You didn’t notice the broad man that approached you.

“Hi, can I walk you back to your class?” You looked up slightly startled.

Were you hallucinating because of the heat? Why was this big tall handsome stranger talking to you? You looked around to see if he was talking to someone else.

“Me?” You pointed at yourself with a questioning look.

His smirk widened, “Yeah, it’s really dangerous out here to be walking alone.” He teased.

You laughed, “Right um yeah sure.”

“Lead the way,” He said as he put his hands in his pockets.

“Your guys presentation was really good, the kids loved it. I already know they’re not going to shut up about it next week,” You laughed brushing hair behind your ear. You felt like a teenager again with a crush.

He smiled, “Thanks. Hopefully inspired some future firefighters. I’ve been doing it for a couple years now, is this your first year teaching?”

You were surprised he even thought about that, “Yeah actually it is.”

“I knew I’d remember that face if I’d seen you before,” Rafe wasn’t one to hold back with his flirting. When he knew what he wanted he would do anything in his power to get it. His career choice definitely helps him out a bit.

You coughed a surprised laugh, “Oh I- uh this is me,” you stuttered out as you got to your classroom. You weren’t used to men being so forward. They usually danced around compliments like they wanted you to work for it before earning one.

He opened the door for you, “I’m Rafe by the way,” He held his big hand out for you to shake. He took your much smaller hand in his as you told him your name. The heat of having his attention never leaving your cheeks.

“Are you doing anything tonight? I’d love to see you outside of work,” He leaned against the door casually. As he folded his arms over his chest they looked even bigger. You’re surprised there’s no drool dripping down your chin.

“No uh well yes I am, I’m meeting my friend Martha. She was standing next to me during the assembly. We’re going to Winnie’s if you’d like to join. Or not it’s fine if you don’t and you changed your mind or something,” You cleared your throat as you finished rambling.

That smirk turning into a wide grin, “I’ll see you there. Maybe I’ll bring one of the guys with me.”

She nodded with a smile, “That’d be great, I’m sure Martha would appreciate that.”

“I’ll see you then,” He winked subtly and walked back out. That smug grin still on his face.

“You are the bestest friend I’ve ever had!” Martha exclaimed as you finished telling her about your conversation with the hot firefighter.

You laughed, “I didn’t even do anything, god he’s so hot I hope I don’t embarrass myself.” You looked back at the entrance to the bar to see if he was here yet.

“You won’t. He probably loves the whole cute young elementary teacher thing,” Marth said as she took a sip of her cocktail.

“I don’t wanna be that though. I want to be a hot sexy woman,” You sighed dramatically.

When you got to winnies you spent about 10 minutes in your car fixing your smudged makeup and messy hair. You really wished career day didn’t put you through the ringer. You even changed into a random top that was in the backseat because the tee shirt you were wearing wasn’t doing you justice.

It had been almost an hour and they still hadn’t shown up. You had begun to feel disappointed that maybe he was just all talk. Maybe he did that to every new teacher at the schools he went to. But to save yourself the self pity you thought maybe he got a call and had to work. That was the most reasonable explanation. At least that’s what you told yourself.

“They probably got busy. Saving lives or something,” Martha waved off as she finished her second drink. You were also currently on your second and your feet were feeling fuzzy so you were cutting yourself off. You’d probably end up going home after the buzz wore off.

You tried not to show how disappointment flowed through you, “Yeah probably. Guess it was too go-“ you cut yourself off as you saw the door open and a head of bleach blonde hair came through. Your eyes widened and look away quickly.

“Ohmygod he’s here,” you mumbled to Martha. He hasn’t seen you yet.

She smiled, “Is the friend hot?”

You looked over and that’s when you met his eye. Rafe was already looking at you. He smirked and began walking over with a guy to a similar build as him walked behind him.

“Yes and they’re coming,” You said quickly as you cleared your throat.

“Hello ladies,” Rafe smirked as he approached.

You smiled softly, “Hey,”

Rafe thought you were pretty before but now in this setting you looked unreal. He was so glad he signed up for career day.

“This is Josh,” He nodded towards the brunette next to him.

You smiled politely at him, “Hi Josh. I’m y/n and this is Martha,” You looked over at her, “Martha, Rafe.”

They greeted each other as the guys sat down. Having Rafe so close to you was making you a bit dizzy. The alcohol wasn’t helping that either.

“What are you drinking?” Rafe asked you nodding towards your drink.

“Oh I was having gin and pineapple juice but I think I’m done for the night,” You admitted sheepishly.

He smiled teasingly, “Well wish I could have made it earlier to actually have that drink with you.”

You thought about it for a minute, “I guess I could have one more with you. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“You sure about that? You’re okay with just straight tequila shots?”

Your eyes widened muttering, “Geez maybe you will be drinking alone.”

He laughed, “In that case I guess we’ll just have a beer?” He said more as a question wanting to make sure that was okay with you.

You pretended to think for a minute humming, “Hmmm fine with me. Except no IPA’s,” you said making a face

“Yes ma’am,” He nodded getting up from the high table.

Across from you Josh was getting Martha’s drink order and you could already tell he liked her. The way he leaned in as if he couldn’t hear her despite the bar not being loud yet. You looked over at the bar where Rafe stood waiting for a bartender. He looked so good leaning over the bar. The muscles of his back flexing under the navy shirt. You couldn’t be more grateful for career day.

Rafe was oh so screwed. He was liking this third grade teacher a little too much. He had never felt so attracted to someone. Not just physically. He loved how animated you were when you talked, always using your hands. The passion in your eyes when you spoke about your class was admirable.

It was a done deal that you weren’t going to just be a hook up. No way would Rafe think about letting you out of his grasp. You were so soft and sweet, he can already imagine just how sweet you taste.

He knew it wasn’t one sided either. He saw the way you watched him as he told childhood stories and how he became a firefighter. You didn’t look at him like some hero the way most women did but you looked at him like you were proud of him. It made this weird feeling in his chest bloom. But he loved that look in your eye.

Whatever dance you two had been playing the last hour was starting to wear him thin. He wanted to touch you. Not even in a sexual way but he wanted to tuck that piece of hair behind your ear or give your thigh a reassuring squeeze every time you thought you were rambling. Rafe wanted to hear you go on and on about everything.

Throughout the night your chairs had slowly started to scoot closer to each other. Then your arms started brushing each other. Even the small contact set his skin on fire. The need in his bones growing.

You would dare to move a muscle once your skin touched he was so warm and as you looked over his bicep was just beghing to be bitten. The alcohol was helping your brain wander to that place you only visited at night alone in your bed.

As was telling a story about his vacation in Italy your eyes couldn’t help but wander back over to those biceps that had you drooling when you first saw him. He had his arms crossed over the table. Muscles flexing as he picked up his beer bottle and took a sip. The way his neck moved as he swallowed had you clenching your thighs. You wondered what his skin would taste like. You also wanted to know what it’d feel like to be wrapped in those biceps as he held you up while pou-

“You good?” Rafe asked lowering his head to your gaze. A teasing smirk on his lips.

Your doe eyes looked up at him, “Uh huh.” Way to play it cool.

He chuckled, “What were you thinking about?” You hadn’t noticed that Martha and Josh had gotten up and walked over to the dart board across the bar. Now leaving the two of you alone. The bar had gotten more crowded now and

You shook your head fighting the heat creeping up your spine, “Nothing really.”

“Yeah?” He leaned in closer, “I bet we were thinking about the same thing.”

You swallowed hard trying to use as much of that liquid courage as possible, “Then tell me what you’re thinking and I’ll let you know if you’re right.”

He liked that playful look in your eye, “Well I was thinking about soft your thighs would feel on my cheeks.”

Your eyes widened. Maybe you really weren’t expecting him to be honest. But that truth had you fidget in your seat as that warm feeling in your stomach blossomed.

“I guess we were then,” You hum.

“Mhmm,” He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “And what should we do about that sweetheart?”

“I-I” And just like that you had lost your cool. This insanely attractive, funny, smart guy wanted to get into your pants. Hot guys with all those personality traits come once in a blue moon and you were fumbling.

He laughed raising a hand to your shoulder brushing your hair back. His fingertips grazing your exposed collarbone. The light touch making goosebumps rise on your skin. You wanted to lean into his touch but before you could he pulled away, “Let me take you out. Just you and me.”

“Really?” You were a bit dumbfounded. It’s not like you thought he was going to be a bad guy but a part of you had prepared for a one time hook up kind of guy. Which you didn’t mind at first because well it had been almost a year since anyone has met your needs. You weren’t going to turn down sex with a hot firefighter so you’re definitely not turning down a date with one. But you couldn’t help but be curious as to why.

He nodded, “Of course. You’re beautiful, sweet, funny, smart, passionate. I really could go on but I’ll save that for our date.”

You huffed out an amused laugh, “Okay yeah I’d love to go on a date. Assuming this doesn’t count?”

He shook his head with a frown, “I’d never do this for a first date, especially not for someone like you. I’ll treat you right y/n don’t you worry.”

That heat was back again, “You say this to all the women you meet at on career day?”

He smirked, “Just the ones I can’t stop thinking about. Which has only happened with you.”

His reassurances ignited something in you. The feeling of being wanted was something you hadn’t felt in a while and you really liked it. You really liked who was making you feel wanted.

“So how would you treat me Rafe?”

God. He loved the sound of his name coming out of your mouth. He wanted to hear you say it in so many scenarios. Specifically ones where you’re naked.

His knee bumped hers under the table, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six and show you exactly what I’d do.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron obx #rafe x you

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targaryenluvs · 9 months

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RAVAGE

pairing: dark!president!coriolanus snow x innocent!wife!reader

summary: he’d won the election, much to your elation. now you’d have to navigate the fame, fortune and status as the first lady of panem. but coriolanus just wanted you all to himself, and he’d do anything to scare you into his arms.

warnings: possessiveness, murder, robbery, bad smut, controlling, tears, babying, kisses, fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v, kinda subby corio/dom, praise, sense of entitlement? breeding kink, tummy bulge, overstimulation, little bit of aftercare

word count: 2k

a/n: i’m such a bitch for making everyone wait so long for a delicate part two 😌 and i finally have the confidence for smut so heheh - yes i’m using tvd names a lot - corio/coryo use - tried out a new layout 👀

part one of delicate

you couldn’t believe it.

coriolanus snow, president of panem.

all of his hard work has finally paid off and you couldn’t be more happy for him. you wanted to give him a gift but you still had no idea what he would want. it seemed the two of you practically had everything overnight, so a measly gift seemed to be difficult to acquire, one that he liked? even harder.

so you’d decided to go out, the idea of surprising him exciting you so much you’d forgotten to tell coriolanus where you were going to.

so imagine his surprise when his assistant told him you’d left the house, viewing you on the security cameras.

which you had no idea were there.

coriolanus saw it as an act of defiance.

he had to move about this correctly, he couldn’t have you injured, but he needed to scare you back into his arms. to remind you of the horrible place that panem was.

over twelve stores, and nothing. so you’d decided to enlist the help of one of your few friends. “not a single clue of what he’d want?” elena asked as you stabbed at your fries, “nope.” you answered as you placed a fry in your mouth.

“well if he has absolutely everything then his gorgeous wife should be a nice gift after an extremely long day no?” you looked up at her, confused, “what do you mean?” she giggled, “oh god, i forget how you don’t know that much. you, y/n.” at your adorable puppy face she leaned in, “your body.” you jumped back at her words, “i… i’ve never.”

“you’ve never?!” elena slapped her hand over her mouth at your admission, “how? i mean you’re absolutely stunning sweetheart, how hasn’t he yet?” you played with the table cloth in your hands, “i don’t know.” elena twisted her fork around her pasta, “okay has he never made a move, or, have you never noticed the signs?” you took a sip of your wine as you stared back at her, “what signs?” elena sighed, rubbing her temple, “there are signs, moments. the two of you, sitting on the couch and his hand trails higher. his breath quickens at the sight of you in a dress. the little things.”

“and what happens if you notice these signs, act on them?” and this was exactly her expertise, she wiped her face with her napkin before paying the bill. “if i’m going to explain this in detail then we need to go to my house. or a dirtier part of town. my dear girl, i’m taking you to your first ever bar.”

coriolanus has to hold on to his mask of self-restraint, you’d been spotted at a bar, with one of your friends that he despised. but at least his plan could take full effect without a hitch.

your mind had been blown, irrevocably and utterly blown. the way elena had described it all, she made it sound like heaven. but she did tell you about other men, some care for themselves more so than the girl. and you had no clue what type of man corio was in bed.

you’d been so absorbed in your own thoughts you hadn’t noticed the man following you, not until he attacked you. he’d been going after your bag of course, but it was a gift from coriolanus. the man was unrelenting as he shoved you against the cold wall, grimy hands pushing and pulling with you as you tried to regain hold of your purse. “let go!” you cried out before he slammed you into the wall again, loosing grip on the purse coriolanus had just gifted you.

what would he say? it was his gift to you!

you woke up with a throbbing headache and corios hands brushing away strands from your face. “there you are sweet thing. you feeling okay?” you peered up at him, unable to move due to the millions of blankets on you. noticing your struggle he smiled before shifting them off, “better?” you nodded before sitting up with his help.

“corio, i lost the bag you gave me. the bad guy he- i’m so so sorry. please don’t be mad with me i didn’t mean to-“ he laughed, although it didn’t reach his eyes, “you think i care about the bag y/n/n? i could buy you a million bags, better bags. i’m just glad you’re okay. those guys, they won’t bother you again.” all you could do was sob and hug him, pondering the meaning of his words.

AN HOUR AGO

“hey, what the hell man? you said to attack the girl and take the bag!” the man shouted as coriolanus undid his cuffs, adjusted his sleeve, pushing it back on both arms. “i told you to go for the bag, yes. but i specifically remember drilling it into your head not to hurt her. and now she’s lying in bed, has been for the past three house with bruises everywhere. and for that?”

shouts and screams of pain echoed through the abandoned building as coriolanus struck the man with a hammer, over and over and over. the job had one guideline. and this idiot couldn’t get it right.

don’t hurt his delicate girl.

PRESENT

you’d been so absorbed with worrying over the purse and apologising for your tears you hadn’t noticed corios hungry eyes. “i really did like that purse.” he murmured, “oh corio, i should’ve tried harder to keep it. what can i do?” hook, line and sinker. he had you where he wanted and he’d finally get what he deserved.

“let me fuck you. please.” and who were you to say no? your naivety led to him laying you down on the bed, head between your thighs. you’d heard about it from elena, a man pleasuring a woman, but it was a million times better than you could’ve imagined. coriolanus was messy, and desperate. he’d been waiting for so long and god was it worth it.

his heart raced with both excitement and nervousness as he held your thighs in his own hands, tracing up and downwards, feeling the warmth against his own skin. coriolanus couldn't resist the opportunity to tease you. “you wanna cum?” corio mumbled as he continued sucking on your swollen clit, “mhm.” you could hear him laughing at your pathetic excuse of agreeing.

coriolanus wholeheartedly believes you belong to him. the second you were married, and even before, you were his. your submission would prove it, and he would do anything for it. you were his and he was yours. his bold blue eyes ravished you, all of you, “who’s making you feel this good?” your hips squirmed away from him but he just pulled you back, pushing two fingers into you.

corio reveled in your naivety, the way you responded to his touch, the way you whispered dirty words as if it were a sin. and right now, you still couldn’t bring yourself to name what you needed. his pace was brutal as he lapped at your cunt, a third finger curling inside of you as they went in and out. your gasps and cries were music to his ears, he’d been denied this all too long, and he wasn’t sure how he’d ever done it. “cmon, say it.” and you did, over and over again. “it’s you! you, coryo.”

“coryo, ah, your fingers feel so good,” you mewled, tilting your hips more trying to lean into his touch. coryo withdrew his fingers to play with your clit, rubbing circles around your sensitive nub that resulted in you crying out in pleasure.

“such a good girl, getting all wet for me,” you nodded along dumbly, “for you, all you.” you babbled as he kissed you deeply.

coryos hand dragged up and down your folds, “your pussy is soaked, baby. look at that,” you whined at the feeling of him not touching you, your cheeks flushed at the sight of your arousal. coryo pulled his pants down, throwing them away over his shoulder. you hid your head into the pillow as coryo tutted, “you have to look pretty girl, look at the mess you made.” coryo taunted as he rubbed your slick juices all over his dick, trying to humiliate you, get a rise out of you. coryos hand holds onto your neck, tightening as you clutched on with both hands, “please, coryo, i’ll be so good.” he rested his forehead on yours, noses touching.

“i love you, i love you, i love you.” he whispered in your ear, “my beautiful wife, you’d look so good with my baby in you.” the idea of having his baby had you pressing your lips to his as he bit down on your lower lip, making you gasp as your lips part, his tongue pushing inside your mouth, exploring every bit of you he’d ever wished to. his hunger hadn’t fallen, only increased.

“ i need to fuck you,” he panted, you having stolen his breath. coryo teased your folds with the head of his cock, “need to fill up this pretty little pussy of yours,” he pushed into you, warm walls coating his cock as he groaned, “you feel so good.” he moaned into your neck as your hands clutched onto his broad shoulders. he wasn’t sure if he’d last long but then again he didn’t care, it’s not like you knew it was a short time.

the way you clenched down on him was more than enough proof of your virginity. your cries fueled him on as he pinned your hips down into the mattress, rutting against you wildly. “you feel that?” he was everywhere, filling you up. his dick making an appearance through the bulge in your tummy. “uh-huh. too much i can’t-” he stopped you before you could finish by pressing down on it with his palm, “yes you can baby.” you shook your head, “coryo i can’t, you feel too good.” you begin, crying from how good he was making you feel, from how dumb and desperate he was making you.

“m’ gonna fill you up, gonna give you my baby.” he was driving you crazy, his heavy panting, hands on either side of your head, his voice was deep and filled with fire. “yes, yes please inside me.” coryo’s eyes squeezed shut and his brow furrowed you were too much, fuelled on by the idea of a pregnant wife, pregnant you. swollen belly, heavy breasts, relying on him to help you out of bed. his hips stuttered and faltered as he came inside you with a low groan. he didn’t care about pulling out and neither did you as your release came down on you again. “feels so good coryo, thank you.”

he couldn’t help his smile as you continued to thank him for making you feel so good. his ego was sure as hell swelling as he pulled out of you, collapsing on the bed. his hand caressed your face, kissing you all over, praising you.

“you did so well f’me. proud of you baby.” you grinned up at him as you snuggled into his neck. “only for you coryo.” all for him. “i’ll clean you up okay?” you nodded along as he got out of bed.

coriolanus deemed the night a success, but for some reason he didn’t feel complete. he wanted more. but as he looked up at your sleepy eyes and tired out body he wanted to let you rest. but the idea seemed to slip out of his head once he was levelled with your core again, his release spilling out of you and the warm towel forgotten. he didn’t stop himself when he began to lick at you, his tongue working his way into your entrance as your head shoved at his face.

“coryo, i’m sensitive. coryo please stop.” you attempted to crawl away but his hands dragged you to the edge of the bed, legs around his head. your body fell limp against the sheets as pleasure took over. your hands laced with his hair as you cried out.

it was going to be a long night.

#hunger games x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus x reader #dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader #dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #yandere coriolanus snow #yandere coriolanus snow x reader #hunger games fic #coriolanus snow fic

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hoshigray · 7 months

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𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 | satoru gojō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Is it possible to wish to be in the embrace of someone who makes you want to throw them off a cliff? You seem to think so, and the same goes for Gojo. But alas, good things always come to an end, even when not meant to be...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers + mutual pining - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - implied fwb relationship - catching/awakening feelings - oral (m! receiving) - ball massaging + sucking - sex in a shared room; college dorms (alone) - cowgirl position on a chair - breast fondling + sucking + nipple play - protected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, pretty, princess) - heavy depiction of a blowjob - cameos: Haibara and Ijichi - fluff + angst; misunderstandings - humor bc i'm [not] funny.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.6k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: second part, let's goooo!! i loved ur support and comments from the first story, so hope y'all are excited for this part :DDD and ty so so so MUCH for 5.5k like??? i kiss you on cheek, every single on of you, hehehe~

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“If you’re not gonna help, then leave my dorm!”

“Ehhhh, hell no! It’s cold as fuck outside; you want me to freeze to death?”

“They’re…still going at it.”

“Yeah…give it a minute, and we’ll just go to the library without them?”

It’s coming down to the last week of January; university students are finally settling in with their new schedules and getting used to the groove of the spring semester. Or some run around trying to keep up with the new semesters and the change of weather already getting on people’s nerves, wanting nothing more than spring to come quickly.

Three weeks in, and you already have stuff to do, one of them being an argumentative presentation assigned by Professor Yaga in your Contemporary Issues class. You and three other people are tasked to find sources for a topic issue you find interesting and then present a discussion-based presentation on two sides of the topic (two people in favor and two people against).

Unfortunately, the groups were to be randomly assigned. Luckily, two friends you knew in the class, Haibara and Ijichi, were picked to work alongside you! However, the bad part was that another person you knew was assigned to work with you, and he happens to be the guy getting on your last nerves right now, sitting on your couch while clicking through the television channels with the remote.

Your roommates weren’t home today. The club fair was occurring at the quad, so Mei Mei and Utahime had to go out and represent their clubs for the afternoon. Shoko is having an intense study session with Geto for an exam on the first of February, so they’re at the library now.

That leaves you alone at your dorm, using this as a perfect opportunity to invite your group over to work on the project.

“You can freeze your nuts off and become the next Jack Frost for all I care; if you’re not going to do your part of the work, get out!”

Well, minus you yelling at your partner, who clicks his teeth before turning to you. His round sunglasses shone from the light reflected from the living room windows.

Satoru Gojo was your number one nemesis within these campus grounds; this was a known fact to everyone, especially the other group members who nervously examined you two bicker. Being in the same space as him is enough to make you wish you could pull your hair out or put him in the nastiest headlock you could do. Worse, being assigned to the same group as him for your project almost made you want to rip your ears off.

But you had to suck it up; at least you were the first group to start a presentation. Better now than worry about it later, right?

“Pssh, fine, I’ll get up and—Oh! Wait, you guys have Digimon on Hulu? Ahhh, sick!”

Nevertheless, you can’t say that when your supposed partner acts like a child glued to your TV screen instead of doing the work he promised to do. You grit your teeth with a twitching brow, “Why you…”

Across from the common area was the kitchen, where Haibara and Ijichi sat at the dining table. The two sophomores could do nothing but feel the tension between you and Gojo grow with every passing second, suffocating the younger duo. Haibara eyes Ijichi from across the table and whispers, “Wanna make a run for it now?”

The black-haired second-year didn’t reply, only a hurried nod before the two grabbed their coats and stuffed their laptops back into their backpacks. The sound of their zippers alerts your ears, turning to them to question, “Huh? Where are you two going?”

Haibara takes it upon himself to deliver a half-lie as he zips up his jacket. “On second thought, Ijichi and I are thinking of taking the shuttle to the library to work instead.”

Huh? The library? Were they leaving because of the belligerence between you and Gojo? God, you hoped not. “Wait, you guys don’t have to do that. I already made you guys walk all this way here; it’d be rough to have you leave for somewhere else…”

Ijichi comes with the assist after putting the sling of his messenger bag around his shoulder. “It’s okay, Y/n. We found material from the library we could use as sources, so we’re heading up there to take some notes while they’re there.”

“Yup!” Haibara exclaims in agreement, and the two walk past you to put on their shoes by the front door. “Maybe you guys can find sources of your own while we’re gone, and then we can converse and share what we found when we come back. Sounds good?”

“I suppose so…” you couldn’t shake the feeling that they were leaving to avoid being in the same room as you and Gojo. The guilt is hard to endure since you didn’t mean to make the younger boys uncomfortable. “See you guys, then.”

“Cya!” And with that, the door closes on their way out, leaving you and Gojo alone in your apartment.

Well, this is just great; you’ve driven your group members and friends away and are now stuck with the nuisance of a partner who still keeps his attention on the television. It takes everything in your power not to pop a vein. But with one calm breath, you steady yourself and stand tall.

You walk in front of the TV, blocking it from Gojo’s view. The white-haired boy throws his hands up in exasperation, but you couldn’t care less. “What’s the big idea?” He questions you as if he has a right to at this moment.

You cross your arms across your chest with narrow eyes. “Haibara and Ijichi just left.”

“Uhh, yeah, I heard the door,” he maneuvers his body to try and see the children’s show blocked by your figure. “Doesn’t have to do with me—“

“It does have to do with you.” You interrupt him, taking two steps and bending to stare him down. Your face is a foot away from his. “You’re supposed to be here to work with Haibara on the ’no’ part of the argument while me and Ijichi do our part. You’ve only been here for thirty minutes, and the only thing you’ve done successfully is take off your shoes at the door and read your manga books on the couch.

Gojo chuckles – oh, how you hated his laugh – as he puts his hands behind his head, spreading his long legs from their crossed form. “You heard them, no? They’re going to research on their own and then come back. Besides, you know I’m not one to start stuff right away. I’m a procrastinator, remember?”

“You’re annoying; that’s what you are.” You straighten up with a heavy sigh. God, I wish Utahime and Shoko were here. They’d help me out with this white garbage…

“Ahhh, lighten up, Y/n. It’s not like the presentation is on Monday; we got until Friday to come up with everything.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that, smartass. And you’re right: I do know you. And I know you tend to do things at the last fucking minute. But not this time!” You watch him try to put his feet up on the coffee table, and you quickly intervene by kicking them off.

“Tch. Look, you knew what you were getting into being partnered with me. And relax; those two said they’ll be back to discuss the material later. They already left – nothing I can do about it.”

Your hands rest at your hips, tapping your foot with visible frustration. “Oh? And I wonder why they left in the first place, Gojo. Mind telling me how?”

He quirks up a brow with a smug grin — a telling sign that you’d get ticked off with whatever he’s about to say. “I don’t know, Y/n. Why not ask the nagging control freak talking to me right now, huh? Maybe their short height and angry temper are affecting the mood of those around them to be miserable like them.”

You almost did it — your hands nearly gave into your intrusive thoughts and were about to lunge at the snow-haired guy’s neck to wring around like a rag doll. But you played it off with a clap, rubbing the palms together to distract your temporary violent thoughts.

You sucked your teeth and turned on your heel. “Forget it. I’m gonna go take a nap.”

He scoffs, “Good, maybe your tiny brain needs it to calm down.”

“Choke and die, Gojo!” You say down the hall, already at the door of your shared bedroom. Before slamming the door shut, Gojo’s patronizing laughter can be heard to your dismay. With gritted teeth, you march to your bed to throw yourself on the mattress.

“Ughhh. That Satoru Gojo,” you curse his name under your breath as if he’d hear you through the walls. “So unserious…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

To be quite honest with himself, Gojo doesn’t necessarily hate you.

The white-haired boy lies on his side on Utahime’s bed, watching you nap. He did knock on the door – believe him, he did. He even gave you the good old ten-second rule, waiting for your response. But then you didn’t, which gave him the initiative to waltz in and see you in your slumber.

You slept so peacefully; your face at peace, and your faint snores were the only things his ears picked up on. It was as if your little nagging show from earlier was hard to comprehend when seeing your tranquil state in front of him. It used to be rare to see you like this. Keywords: used to be.

For the past two to three weeks, your relationship with Gojo has become more…intimate. Ever since he took your first kiss and drew your virgin curtains, the two of you have gotten a little closer than before — both platonically and physically. Something that Gojo never thought he’d experience with you, his tiny, cute frenemy.

Gojo has known you since freshman year; you were two in the same enrichment group to prepare you to transition into college life. Personally, he wasn’t much for the program; he found it a waste of time, a mandatory prerequisite that he felt he didn’t need. He’s all about experience, wanting nothing more than to get on with his day, go to classes, hang with friends, and repeat.

“Hello, my name is Y/n. It’s nice to meet you all!”

And then came you, the person sitting across from him at the round table your group would always meet at. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enamored by you the second he saw you. Gojo rarely finds someone who could easily pull his eyes to them — not saying the girls who’d usually crowd and admire him weren’t pretty. There was something about you that kept him wanting to know more – to engage more – about you.

One thing he knew from you was that you carried your character with pride. Your achievements, your personality, your kindness, and your mannerisms — all of which were displayed elegantly and were a breath of fresh air to look at. You stood out to him more than all the other kids in the group, his eyes always finding a way to steer from the professor’s advice to your alluring, listening face.

Another thing Gojo liked about you was that you weren’t afraid to stand your ground, especially when discussing with your peers or him. Sure, you were always respectful and would respect other people’s arguments. But, God, the way you said things so constructed and nuanced, it had the tall other glued to you whenever you spoke.

He’s not going to lie; he’ll admit that he’d try to tick you off and get you to get a little angry with him when it came to arguing. He couldn’t help it. He just liked the thought of you layering out of your poised appearance to the point you’d glare at him whenever you saw him in the halls. And it had him giddy knowing he’s the one that made you angry because you looked cute.

And that was the other thing he really liked about you. The more you two interacted, argued, hung out with his friends, or attended classes together, the more Gojo’s fascination for you turned into that of a school-boy crush. He wouldn’t admit to anyone of this (minus Geto and Shoko if his life depended on it) because it certainly wasn’t something to be known. He was okay with what you two had right now, being the friend who loves to push your buttons to see you nag at him.

That was until you two started sleeping together. Because holy fuck, the past weeks you two have been sneaking time to have each other’s bodies close made Gojo’s mind go crazy. So fucking crazy like the feeling of you on him is borderline addicting. Your whiny cries calling out to him when he scrapes your sweet spots, your nails scrape on his chest, your half-lidded eyes when you look at him, or how you whisper his name only for him to hear.

This was the kind of relationship you two brewed, a secret thing only between you two. And Gojo was satisfied keeping it like this because it was what you wanted. No need to flaunt it around; it was no one’s business. Besides, he likes having you to himself, seeing a side of you that only he could imagine and experience.

The sensations of your body under his touch, the various tunes of your voice, and the beauty exhibited in your gaze. It was all addicting. You were addicting.

“Who told you to lie on my roommate’s bed? You know she’ll kill you if she ever saw you.”

It was so addicting that he didn’t even notice you awake until you spoke to him, the erotic memories of you clouding his brain dissipating at the indication of your voice. He smirks, “Oh, I’ll be fine; not like she can hurt me with her tiny self.”

You’re too groggy to roll your eyes, sighing as you turn to your side to face him from across the room. “How long was I out for?”

“Almost an hour,” he replies, switching to sit criss-cross on Utahime’s bed. “I got bored watching TV and knocked.”

“How long have you been in here?”

“Maybe twenty minutes?”

“Just watching me sleep?”

“Yeah.”

You let out a scoff, shaking your head. “Weirdo.”

He snickers at you for recognizing his silliness. “Whaaat? There’s not much to do aside from looking at you. I got bored of the TV.”

“What about your manga?”

“Got bored of that, too.”

“Anyone on your socials that you’d wanna talk to? Girls? Friends? Your teammates?”

“Mmm, nah, none I’d wanna talk to right now.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you mean ‘right now’? You make it seem like I’m keeping you from interacting with your outside life. If you’re bored, talk with whoever you want. Maybe bother Geto…No, nevermind, he’d probably be annoyed since he’s studying.”

Gojo examines you, silently removing himself from your roommate’s bed and treading towards yours. He takes off his sunglasses and places them on top of your dresser before sitting on his knees on the floor. He rests his hands and chin on the edge of your bed, his sky-blue eyes locked in with yours. God, you were so beautiful to look at.

“I meant that I don’t want to talk to anybody.” Now that he’s closer to you, his voice dials to a whisper. “Not when I got you here to myself.”

He notices your brows drawing upward at the sentence. “To yourself?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, bringing a forefinger to trace your brow. A sensual touch not to startle you. “Just you and me.”

You give him a look as if you think he’s trying to pull something. “Don’t tell me you were making me mad at you earlier just so Haibara and Ijichi could leave, and I’d be stuck with you.”

His smile broadens with every word, his dimples out to see. “No, although I hate that I didn’t think of that myself.” His hand goes to your cheek for his thumb to stroke gently. “Would it have been a bad thing if I did?”

You don’t reply, only placing your hand on his. Your eyes are still on his blue orbs, and – you don’t know this because Gojo has the perfect view of you – the light from the window made them shine charmingly as it highlighted your face.

“No…I don’t think so,” you murmur, gaze gradually venturing down to his lips. “I like being around you…Satoru.”

He heard his name leave your lips, an invitation to what he wants to do, his eyes fixated on your lips before closing them and drawing in closer. “Me too…”

The kiss was soft and gentle like he always starts with, waiting for you to give him the okay to kiss you again. And when you meekly lick his bottom lip, he gives in to your request and claims your lips again.

Your moans were so sweet to his ears — his favorite thing to hear — especially when he becomes a little devilish and sucks on your tongue to make you whimper a little louder, turning him on even more. It serves as the perfect distraction for him to snake a hand into your shirt, his hand already making itself home and cupping your breast in your bra.

You break the kiss with a gasp, and massages to your mound make your breath shaky. “Mmmah…you sneaky pervert,” you name-call him sweetly.

“Can’t blame me; I just know that you like to have your tits played with.” Gojo sneers, tweaking your nipple to hear you gasp again. “Hey, remember you said you’d suck me off next time?”

“Huh?” The question threw you off before you could fall deeper into a euphoric haze.

“Don’t ‘huh’ me, you promised!” He whines to you like a hurt puppy. “After I ate you out for twenty minutes straight last time, can I just have your mouth on my dick once?”

“I never told you to eat me out for twenty minutes!”

“You crying and telling me not to stop said otherwise!” He stands his argument, even if you warn him with a glare. “Just suck it, please. I haven’t felt your mouth in a while.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. You didn’t expect to deal with his childish tendencies, but it is Gojo we’re talking about. You sigh, “…Fine, Satoru.” And then the white-headed boy beamed at the confirmation, immediately standing up and heading to your desk. It was an abrupt change of pace for a second until he brought your desk chair out.

With glee, Gojo flings his jeans and boxers with ease, his half-hard cock out for you to see. He sits on your chair with spread legs, “I’m ready~.”

You roll your eyes, yet the smile on your face sneaks without you knowing while leaving your bed and crouching between his legs. “You’re such a big baby sometimes…”

Your hand finds its way to the body of his dick, gliding it up and down to feel the veins under your palm and fingertips. Gojo hums to your cold fingers, hitching his breath when you tease him with a blow of air.

Your free hand comes to his balls, massaging his testicles in a way that has his leg jerk. He tries to fight it, but the squirm on his legs says otherwise. “Hahhh, fuck…quit it…”

“Hmm? What, you don’t like it when I tease you?” You peer up at him with a smug grin before using your tongue to lick on the glans slowly, and he covers his mouth before a gasp comes out after lapping on his frenulum. “But when you do it to me, it’s not a problem, huh?”

“Mmmph, shiit, Y/n—Ohhh…!” Another jolt of the hips after you lick and kiss one of his balls, teasing the skin with a kiss and tiny chews that would have him choke on his breath. “Jesus, fuck! Y/n, baby, you’re driving me crazy….Aishhh!!

“Oh, really?” God, you were such a fucking tease. But he fucking loved that so much. “What should I do?” You ask him before sucking on his balls again, and a hand comes to your shoulder to grip.

“Mmmm…Blow me off, princess,” shivers crawl up his spine as you place kisses from the base of his cock towards the tip. “Please, I wanna feel you…”

You giggle at his reply, finally taking in his cockhead to your pretty lips and sighing through your nose as you hollow your cheeks to take in more of him.

Gojo sighs at your licks and sucks on his girth, his erection becoming accommodated to your oral cavity wonderfully. You unhurriedly prompt yourself to take in more of him until your lips reach his pubes, your throat now full of him, and the warmness of your gummy walls makes him squirm more.

Bobbing your head at a moderate pace, you suck him off to that of a pleasurable cadence. You still use your hands to stroke him, Gojo melting to your touch even more. He throws his head back when you attack his tip again with the onslaught of licks and laps, the hand on his balls roughly kneading them jerks him to moan aloud.

Fuck, it feels so fucking good having you suck him off like this. How your tongue moved up and down on him was so dangerous, prompting him to place a hand on your head for support. As if that would help, you don’t show him mercy when you suck him harder and faster. The noises coming from your mouth sounded so erotic and pornographic, the heat on his face brewing out more.

“—Khhmm, fuck, man, I can’t…Ahhh! Y/n, I’m gonna cum if you keep licking it like that. Stop, st—Ahhaaa!!”

But like he said before – you’re a tease (if not worse than him). You remove Gojo’s dick from your mouth and throat at once, the groan he exerts fueling the fire in your body. You stand to withdraw your shirt, bra, and panties to the ground, knowing Gojo’s watching every move. “Don’t get mad at me; I know how much you wanna cum inside.”

You pull out the condom from the pocket of your skirt, placing the rubber on his cock after removing it from the wrapper. He couldn’t help but laugh, “Seems like you’re more of a pervert than me if you had that ready while those two were here earlier.”

“Shut up,” you playfully kiss him with a sneaky bite to his bottom lip. Then, you mount and align your cunt on his dick, the glans kissing your wet labia. “Hmmm, fuck…”

“Relax, cutie,” he kisses you on the cheek while his hands fondle your breasts.

You slowly descend your slit onto him, the tip of his cock pushing into the entrance of your vagina. A couple of exhales and inhales keep you steady when inserting him into you, not letting the pain distract you from the task at hand. And the both of you moan in unison when it makes it in, your hips leisurely coming down on him until your ass rests on his thighs.

You grind on him with the roll of your hips, evoking choked intakes of air from him as a hand goes to your ass with vigor. His face to your chest while the other hand plays with one mound. His lips found a nipple to pop into his mouth to suck on.

With a slow pace, you rock your hips onto him. Your legs bent for your feet to be on his knees, the chair solid enough to withstand you bouncing on Gojo’s dick with repetition.

“Hoohhh, ohhhh, mmmm,” your hums are expressed in tunes. The curve of his cock is so fucking good, scraping your insides with precision. You couldn’t help but increase the speed just a little bit.

Gojo keeps sucking on your nipple; the grazes of his teeth and pushing the bud up to the roof of his mouth only fuels more quivers to travel down your bouncing figure. Both of his hands now under your skirt to feel the flesh of your ass under his hungry grasp. He kneads your asscheeks with every thrust to your chasm, and your shrieks get louder by the second.

“—Mmmph! Shit, shit, you feel so good, pretty,” he finally lets go of your hardened nipple, burying his face to your chest. “So fucking good for me…fuhuuuucck!

You could feel your cunt contract around him; every graze to your sensitive spots prompted your walls to grip around him. He hisses, looking up to see your expression as you ride him out. Fuck, you looked so good on top of him like this. He’ll add this position to the list of things to do again with you.

You peer down to see that Gojo is staring at you, and you quickly bring a hand to cover his eyes. “—Ahhahhn, d-don’t look at me like that! Yer soo embarrassing…!”

He only chuckles at your shy demeanor, especially during this. But he humors you, not fighting your makeshift blind for him to see you wholly. He’s seen it all already — felt it all, too. And he could never get enough.

“Ooooh, Satoruuu—Nnaaahh!” He loves how you say his name, your hand traveling to his hair to grab in tuffs. “Oh, fuck, ‘toruuu, I’m gonna cummm…!”

“—Hnngh! Yeah, baby?” Oh, he knows. The way you’re grinding to and fro on his pelvis tells him so. “Go ahead, princess. Clench on me and ride it out.”

And with that, your hips go to an erratic pace that has the both of you holding for dear life. The squeeze of your inner walls clenching on him almost makes him choke on his spit, the nails of his fingertips forming crescents on your skin. And you scream at it, slamming your ass onto him as you both climb up to orgasm.

Within seconds, it hits the both of you like a train. This had to be Gojo’s favorite part of the entire thing, experiencing having your folds clamp and flutter around him as you cry for him. It took everything in his power not to come with you because he wants to have you on him a little longer. You just felt too good to let go — too addicted to your body to be done with one round.

When the contractions subside while your slurred howls get quieter, Gojo gives you a few minutes to let your body be free from the aftershocks. He knows your body is extra sensitive now, rubbing circles on your back and placing chaste kisses on your clavicle. You hum under his lips, letting the wave of your crescendo exude out from you quietly.

However, since you wanted to be such a tease, why not be a tease back? At least, that’s what Gojo thought before he threw your cunt another snap of the hips, his cock jabbing into your delicate walls that haven’t recovered yet. A sharp cry comes from your puffy lips, the hand covering Gojo’s eyes finally freeing him to see you.

He grins with hooded azure eyes, “Sorry, cutie, but I didn’t get to finish. Wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t get to have fun of my own, right?”

You chew on your lip with trenched brows before bringing your face to his. “Don’t you get carried away like last time, Satoru.”

“No promises, princess~” he sings to your ear before humming into your lips.

As mentioned before, Gojo doesn’t hate you — he just hates that he can’t fully express liking you.

But having you on top of him like this, in his embrace, is a nice change of pace he’ll happily get used to.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Okay, everyone, class dismissed! Thank you for your time, and see you all on Friday.”

Professor Naga closes up the last class for today, and the students all get up from the seats of their elevated rows to pack up and leave. The clock is ten minutes before seven o’clock, the winter darkness already claiming the sky with a sheet of night. Students are either famished and heading to the dining hall for food, going straight to their dorms or homes, or staying behind for last-minute conversations.

Gojo was one of the latter, deciding to stay behind to chat with the group for a bit. After packing his backpack and putting on his coat, he slings from the table to jump to the row below him, where you were talking with Haibara and Ijichi.

You watch his stunt, ready to lecture, “Jesus, Gojo, what’s all that for? You could’ve just walked around.”

“Ehhhh, why would I do that? That’s so lame.” He comes and bends close to you enough to slang his arm around your shoulders.

But you click your teeth and try to maneuver away from his tall figure. “You’re lame,” you mutter under your breath.

However, Gojo’s ears perked with furrowed brows. “What did you say?”

“You heard me, you lame white furby!” You repeat yourself with a huff and the snow-haired student gawks at your brazenness.

The two of you argue again; students passing by silently exit the class, others stand and watch, and Professor Yaga can only sigh at yet another altercation between you two.

However, it quickly dissipates when Haibara laughs from his seat. “You two, there’s never a dull moment.”

You and Gojo blink at the dark brunette before removing Gojo’s hand from your shoulders. “Hmph, it’s not like it’s my fault; he’s the one who starts it.”

“Oh, what could I possibly do to make Y/n so upset with me this time?” He pushes up his sunglasses, snickering at the scowl you send him.

Ichiji, being the passive second-year he is, meekly changes the topic from the row below you three. “On some brighter news, at least we did well on the presentation.”

“That’s right!” Haibara happily agrees with the statement, leaning against the chair with his hands behind his head. “Professor Yaga seemed really pleased with our arguments; I don’t think he intervened even once. Plus, he said many good things about how we handled the topic. Nice one, team!”

The raven-haired one hums at the other’s exclamation. “I think most of it goes to how Y/n and Gojo bounced off each other’s arguments. How you two pulled up examples from the articles yet remained dignified with your viewpoints was cool to witness. I even saw some students be engaged with the conversation, many amazed with how Y/n refuted Gojo’s arguments elegantly and respectfully.”

But most of all, what the two sophomores wanted to mention was that there was no yelling. To them, the professor, and all the students of this class, you and Gojo presented your presentation without a single tone of malice, no pointless teasing, no name-calling, nothing! It was a civil conversation between two opposing sides. To everyone’s surprise — and thankful stars — today was a success.

You chuckle nervously at the praise. “Oh, come on, you two, don’t let me and Gojo take all the credit. You guys did your part. Especially you, Ichiji; you were an exceptional help for my side and finding sources I could build off from.”

Gojo, on the other hand, rolls his eyes. “Psssh, don’t butter them up like that; without us, they would’ve failed this presentation big time. No offense.” He was forced to say that when you called him by his last name and hit him with your elbow.

None taken, the two younger friends say to themselves unbeknownst to each other.

The tall one continues, “Besides, you were the one who did most of the work. I slacked off until the last minute when you whipped me into shape.” Gojo brings his hand on top of your head for a pat. The action surprised you enough to flinch a bit. “Nice work like always, Y/n.”

Were the stars aligned differently, or did Gojo just compliment you? It certainly took you aback, especially the two others who silently kept their observation to themselves.

You could only look at his complacent look for a few seconds before you realized the warmth of your cheeks became stronger. Averting your eyes, you remove his hand from your head. “Thanks, Gojo…” you express gratitude. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

A cheeky smile, his dimples prominent to blind you. “Awww, would you two look at that? They’re complimenting me, too~” Another bump to the chest has him cackling like a child, and you shake your head with rolled eyes.

The two younger students observe the scene before Haibara forcibly stretches and yawns to catch the two’s attention. “Man, I’m so hungry; I skipped lunch to prepare for this presentation. Me and Ijichi are gonna meet up with Nanami at the dining hall. You guys wanna come?”

You instantly beam at the proposal; who are you to refuse a dinner with your friends? “Sure! I’d love to…Oh! Wait, let me use the restroom and fill my water bottle.”

You rummage through your backpack for your water bottle before exiting the classroom. The boys watch you descend from row after row, and Gojo says, “Don’t take too long; I’ll convince them to leave without you.”

“Hmph, go ahead and try! They invited me; I don’t know who told you to invite yourself.” You stick your tongue out at him before opening and closing the door behind you.

Gojo watches you with a smile still plastered on his face for a few seconds before Ijichi makes a tiny cough to catch his attention, the sunglasses-wearing junior turning to look back down to the other two. He notes the albeit cheesy-smiling faces they harbor, and he lifts a brow. “The hell are you two smiling for?”

The raven-haired sophomore squeaks at the sudden firm tone, “N–Nothing!”

“Pfft, oh come on, Kiyo; let’s not act like we didn’t see what we just saw.”

Gojo catches the nuance of Haibara’s comment. “Saw what?”

“You’re over here talking about our faces, but you’re the one who’s smiling at Y/n as they leave the door?” The brunette sophomore sends a wink to his junior, whose face doesn’t change at the comment.

“And your point is?”

“Well, it seems — to me, at least — there might be something going on with you and Y/n?”

Gojo was prepared for that, opening his mouth to interject quickly. However, the dark-haired other beat him to the punch. “Now that you mention it, Gojo and Y/n have been kind of…stable? There's still the usual arguments, but those haven't happened as much since last week…”

“Right!?” Haibara points at Ijichi with exclamation, making the other second-year flinch. “For some reason, things seem to be a little quieter with the two of them now, not to mention them hanging out way more often. Everyone’s been talking about it; even Geto and Shoko asked if Gojo had done anything that made Y/n passive?”

“I asked Nanami about it on Monday; he thinks maybe Y/n finally knocked some sense into Gojo’s childish brain to have him be so civil to engage without yelling their head off.”

“Pffthaha, I wouldn’t go that far. Y/n did just kick him in the shin yesterday for scaring them from behind.”

“Ahh, yes, well, that was deserved.”

“You two realize I’m still standing right the fuck here, right?” No, they hadn’t because the two discerned the twitch of Gojo’s brow after conversing about the tall, white-haired boy.

“But it’s true!”

Another voice enters the set, making Gojo raise his head, and the other two turn to their left. It was some girl and her friend. Gojo knew of her; she sat next to him during class. Again, he knew of her, meaning she had no significance to his knowledge.

And yet, she speaks to the three boys. “You and Y/n have gotten a lot more close these past weeks compared to previous semesters—“

“Real close, too!” Their friend adds on from behind. “It’s as if you two are like a couple.”

“So…Are you two….a thing?”

Gojo could tell from a mile away what this was. Obviously, the first girl has a thing for him — he can see the anxiousness from the twiddle of her thumbs and avoidant eye contact. Although he wasn’t interested, he couldn’t even answer the question the way he wanted. What the hell could he say: that you two are in a secret relationship? He knows you’d have his grave ready before he could finish that confession.

And he can’t say the two of you are in any relationship either; it’s not what you would’ve told them. To everyone else, you and Gojo are friends who would preferably be caught dead rather than lying in bed together. So, might as well keep that facade up.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” he starts with the push of his sunglasses. “Y/n is a pretty good friend, and I’d like to keep it at that.”

Haibara and Ijichi turn from Gojo to look at each other and shrug. Before turning back, something caught their eye that caused the two sophomores’ skin to turn white.

Ijichi tries to prevent Gojo from speaking further. “G-Gojo—“

However, the tall one doesn’t listen. “I mean, sure, they got a nice personality and are independent…Kinda pretty, too, not gonna lie. But they’re not really my type. I mean, have you seen them? Just a little person who likes to find trivial stuff to yell at me over. Angry at the world around them, I’d say.“

“Go. Jo.” Haibara says the junior’s name through gritted teeth, bringing his hand up by his neck and drawing an imaginary horizontal line back and forth — a gesture for Gojo to not say anymore. But unfortunately, the sign wasn’t seen, and the words kept pouring out.

“And to be honest, can you imagine? Me and Y/n, a couple? Jesus Christ, that would be fucking exhausting to deal with, especially with someone so boring and too uncute like them. I’ve seen prettier, been with better. I feel sorry for the poor bastard who does end up with them—“

“SATORU GOJO!”

Now — that sudden burst of yell from a loud, masculine voice — that was what got Gojo’s attention. It’s what got the attention of everyone else in the room. The snow-haired student jerks to look at the professor standing at the front, the older man with a deep frown. “What?

The professor doesn’t answer him. Instead, he points to the left of him with his chin with a huff. With common sense, Gojo turns behind him to see where the older man points. And at that moment, he felt his very being drop to the soles of his feet. Haibara and Ijichi took a slow breath in unison at the immediate tension.

Behind him stood you, a lone figure holding their water bottle within three arm’s length away from the group. But that was sufficient enough for you to have heard everything said.

Breathing suddenly felt impossible for Gojo; his entire body was stiff under your gaze. His shades could hide his eyes, but he wasn’t sure it could shield the instant shame that slapped him across the face from you.

And that was another thing: the look you harbored was indecipherable — the true definition of disengagement. There were no widened eyes, quivering lips, or shaky hands. You stood plainly and looked as though you were detached from the entire situation. And that was what scared him the most.

This was strike one.

He dared not move when you began walking up, and your eyes then shifted to ignore his presence. “Hey, Yu,” the brunette straightened his posture at the use of the first name. “I think I’ll have to decline on that dinner offer. I’m a little tired and have a paper I need to work on…Maybe next time?”

“Uhh, yeah, sure, no problem.” He answers with a sweat.

Wait a second. Gojo tries to call for you, “Y/n—“

“Ijichi,” but you immediately shut him down and directed your attention to the other sophomore friend as you put on your coat and stuffed your water bottle back into your bag. “Be sure to submit the presentation template and sources to the course site before the end of the day, please.”

“U–Uhh, already done, Y/n.” He squeaks while reassuring.

Wait, please. The tall one tries again, “Wait, Y/n—“

“Good.” You sling your backpack on, refusing to look at the person trying to talk to you. “Well, I’ll be seeing you, then.” And with that, you turn on your heel and head down the row to leave.

No, wait, stop— “Y/n, wait!” This was strike two.

Gojo doesn’t hesitate to call out to you. At that moment, he follows you to the class steps where you were a row down left from the door. He grabs your hand without thinking, the size of your palm captured by his slender fingers. He knew it was a risky move, but he had to — he had to get you to talk with him right now, if not ever. Because the latter is something he isn’t ready for, something he didn’t think would be a possibility.

And yet, he will learn this lesson of being prepared for the impossible when you rapidly turn to him. Strike three.

SLAP!

Have you ever seen someone get smacked in the face so hard that their sunglasses come off? The remaining two girls who witnessed it know for sure now. Haibara and Ijichi won’t admit to it as they immediately turn to the other side of the room when they saw your hand move. But please believe they winced at the sound of the impact. The same goes for Professor Yaga, who was too stunned to speak, yet it was a valid outcome.

Gojo didn’t move a single limb, allowing the stinging feeling on his cheek to course through his facial muscles. His eyes were glued to the carpeted ground; he knew that’s where they were supposed to be. And you snatched your hand away from his grasp, leaving his fingers to suffer in forced loneliness.

“You…you think it’s all fun and games to say stuff like that when I turn my back for a few minutes, huh?” He can see your hand palpitate from his peripheral; the anger depicted alone was enough to interpret. And the tremble in your voice? It felt like an arrow to his being. “…Look at me.”

He’d be a fool to have you repeat yourself; he has lost that right to toy with you now. With a slow inhale, Gojo rotates his head at you, azure eyes tracking up your figure to your face. And when it lands at that destination, his heart is shot down.

Tears stream down vexed, watery eyes. Your brows furrowed, and your bottom lip chewed in a terrible attempt to stop it from quivering. The rise and fall of your shoulders as you moderate your breathing, trying so hard not to let your temper dwell into a deeper phase of ugly. It was bad enough you’re crying in public, in front of your peers, your teacher — and it was because of him.

“From this day forward,” you fight your sniffles to say your statement as clearly as possible. “Don’t you ever talk to me, Satoru Gojo. Enjoy your life without something as boring as me.”

And with that, you dismiss yourself from him and the class altogether, the room silent even after the slam of the door closed. No one says anything, too shocked from the event to utter a letter.

The silence aids the ringing in Gojo’s ears, his breathing still having trouble maintaining a balanced front. The cheek you slapped burned with pain; he’s sure the skin is as red as a cherry.

Oh, fuck.

He brings a hand to his face, his body fighting the trembling. The ringing in his ears worsens, along with the pounding in his head that beats like a drum. His eyes stuck to the ground below him, choosing to focus on something inanimate and not living.

Fuck, fuck, fuck—

All he could think of in this time and place was you. Memories flashing right before him, of you and only you. He can hear the way you say his name, both in vexation and in sweet tunes. Your smiles, your frowns, your huffs, your whispers. When your eyebrows scrunch whenever you express worry for him, how you’re never afraid to stand up against him when making a point, the smile that’s been blinding him for many days and nights — the smile he wouldn’t mind seeing for eternity.

All those memories were one stab to his heart after another. And every time a recollection ended, a flash of your crying face would return to haunt him. Tears that weren’t meant to be there but were, and warm feelings you expressed with him were gone the moment he saw your eyes void of feelings for him. At least, that’s what he saw.

He hurt you. That was the only revelation that haunted him where he stood, making his voice falter from confidence. It was a revelation he never meant to bring about. And now that it exists and he sees the damage, nothing would be better for him now than the ground beneath him swallowing him whole.

“What…the fuck…”

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banj0possum · 9 months

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My Lovely Melody

Yandere!Rockstar x GN!Reader

CW: yandere is a playboy before he meets reader, suggestive (creepy) thoughts, minor obsessive behaviour

🎸 Axel's been in many relationships with both men and women alike, but all of his little flings felt nothing more than that, just flings.

🎸 And he was content with it, I mean being a famous rockstar meant lots of people wanting a chance with you and he indulged in that fact.

🎸 He could sleep with whoever he wanted, whenever he wanted, and he wouldn't have to deal with the commitment that comes with dating or any of that messy stuff.

🎸 So why the hell can't stop thinking about you ?!?!?!!

🎸 He scratched his head trying to make sense of it, his messy hair getting even more ruffled as he tries to get the image of your smile out of his head.

🎸 You were in a miscellaneous store full of alt clothing, trinkets and various other stuff when he walked in with his bandmates.

🎸 It was fairly normal when he came in the store. It was dim with some random punk song playing faintly in the background. His friends started exploring, looking at the graphic t-shirts and mugs shaped like skulls and the like.

🎸 He got a bit bored and wandered to the other side of the store. It had posters, candles and..who's that?

🎸 There you were, staring longingly at a plush toy sitting on one of the shelves, just standing there.

🎸 He didn't think much of it, probably just some person baked out of their mind. "Hey buddy, you doin' good?"

🎸 You snap out of your gaze and look at the big hulking man in front of you. You stutter out an apology and explain your little misfortune.

🎸 "So you want this..toy...but you can't afford it..?" He raises a brow at you as you nod, making him chuckle.

🎸 He thought for a moment, looking at the stuffed creature, well it wouldn't hurt to buy it for you, he's pretty well off from all the gigs and concerts he's been in so...

🎸 "How 'bout I buy this thing for ya then? But you owe me~" He winks, thinking he could score some quick sex for being such a 'gentleman'

🎸 But no, instead of a blush or a knowing smirk, you just looked at him with the widest, most innocent eyes he's ever seen, you were practically shaking with joy as he said it.

🎸 You thanked him profusely before listing off things you could do in return, treating him to some food, buying something for him in return, plain paying him back..he was a bit surprised.

🎸 "O-oh...uhm that was a joke heheh, y-you don't have to do all that babe..." He blushes.

🎸 The two of you head to the cashier, his friends spying from behind the aisles as his gaze is locked on the little ball of cuteness beside him.

🎸 Seriously? Did you even know who he was? This has never happened before...most of the time, he would pay for someone's drink or something and they'd be on his dick in seconds, but you, you were so..different...it felt nice..

🎸 You didn't even get it in a bag, you immediately took the plush after it was paid and hugged it close.

🎸 so cute so cute so cute so cute so cute!!!

🎸 "Hey uh..so me and my buds are in a band and uhm..wanna maybe..watch our next gig?" He asks nervously, he's never been so shy towards anyone!!

🎸 You agree, thinking it's the least you could do for what he did for you.

🎸 You take out your phone, Axel can't help but grin at the case, it was cute, like you~..

🎸 "Here's my number if..you need it.." You smile at him, that smile..that damn cute smile...you had his heart wrapped around your finger at this point.

🎸 "Th-thanks sugar..I'll see you there.." He smiles back as you part ways, he heads back to his friends who were bombarding him with questions as he watches you skip out of the store with your new little soft friend.

🎸 That night, he was getting ready for the show when he got a message notification and sees that you sent a picture of the show from one of the seats with some text "Good luck out there!"

🎸 His face was on fire as he realized you were there, he peeks out in the crowd and there you were, your little plush toy in tow.

🎸 You look so out of place from the people in spiky jewelry and dark outfits, you were just in a hoodie and baggy pants, albeit the hoodie had a MCR design on it, but you can tell it was very soft compared to the rest of the audience.

🎸 Finally it was time for the show to begin and it was the most passionate he's been in a while, it seemed as if the words he was singing were dedicated to you and you alone.

🎸 The little glances at you made you giddy, like a friend seeing their bestie perform, you were cheering excitedly for him, not in a fangirly way, but one of genuine support and amazement.

🎸 After the performance, Axel tried finding you, but the crowd was too big and he assumed you must have left already.

🎸 Wait..why is he being so buddy buddy with you? You just met today! It's not like you two were best friends or anything!

🎸 He tried dismissing the thought of you, tried distracting himself by flirting with other people, but he could only think about you, and making you smile like that again..

🎸 no no no! get out of my head!

🎸 Maybe a little fling can ease his mind?

🎸 Even on his bed with some random girl after show, he can still think of you.

🎸 Would your skin be as soft? or maybe softer? How would your hair smell? He bets your moans would sound delicious..

🎸 shit FUCK!!

🎸 Even after his one night stand, he kept thinking of you

🎸 He stares at your messages, you sent a lot of pictures of your plush toy doing goofy things to him, so cute..so silly...he can't help but smile.

🎸 He decides to look you up on social media and..

🎸 Wait a minute...you make music too?

yep this was a bit short but idk man i love making you guys suffer <3 stay tuned for part 2 (i am actually out of ideas guys please request me please please ple-)

#yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #oc yandere #yandere x gn reader #yandere oc #yandere male #tw yandere #yandere x male reader #x reader #rockstar x reader #x gn reader #gn reader #oc x reader #yandere x you #opossumdoodles

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nereidprinc3ss · 4 months

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do you believe me now? | 6

in which spencer reid and inexperienced!fem reader are finally honest with each other. complete with tears and more than a few make-up kisses.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: angst but mostly fluff, i think this qualifies as hurt/comfort, HHEHHEHHEH, lots of kissing, so cheesy, you jokingly imply he's a slut, i need him expeditiously a/n: thank you guys for being patient with me!! ilysm!! i edited this until i hated it but i hope it's satisfactory for YOU guys..... as always please please let me know what you think!! and i already started the next part hehehe

The car ride is the worst of your life.

Neither of you speak.

And you find yourself wishing, pleading to god that one of you will say something to fix this—but each minute ticks by and the streets get familiar and a quiet song ends and you realize you were silly to ever think a twenty minute car ride would change anything.

Spencer was the luckiest you’d ever been and your relationship is floating away like a balloon you forgot to hold on to—nothing more than a red dot lost to the vast blue.

Maybe for him it’s easier. You’re pretty sure it is, as you risk one or two glances at his unreadable profile that turn into lingering, obsessive looks because you’re panicking and realizing you’ll maybe never see him this close again. It’s funny and terrible how quickly you’re remembering what it was like to see him at the coffee shop for the first time—how he was nothing but a beautiful stranger, completely unknown to you and worlds away. Now you’ve had him, sort of, and you’re turning into the girl who could never have him all over again.

When he turns onto your street reality begins to sink in. Your heart is a short fuse inside your chest as he pulls into a spot and parks the car. The rumble of the engine cuts. The headlights stay on.

For a moment, everything is quiet. You wish you could insert your own reality into the silence—one where you’re simply enjoying each other’s company and there’s no sense of impending doom to take your breath away.

“Do you want to talk?” Spencer asks, looking pointedly ahead where the lights shine off the back of some other person’s car. A wayward moth dips and swirls into the high beams. You watch Spencer track it with his eyes.

“I’m not sure what to say,” you admit quietly. The weight of everything you’d like to say sits in your stomach like lead, too heavy to divulge. It’s only been a few weeks of having to carry the truth around with you and your muscles are already fatiguing. The idea of carrying it around indefinitely makes your eyes sting. You’re already exhausted.

Maybe a stronger person would find that last bit of energy to make a final push, to save the relationship just before it falls apart.

But you never claimed to be strong.

Deep down, you must’ve known you weren’t ready for a real relationship. You can’t handle all of this pretending to be okay with things that hurt. Even if that's the grown-up thing to do.

“I tried. I really did, I’m sorry—I’m—”

Before you can get the words out your throat tightens around them and you bury your face in your hands.

The sound of his seatbelt unlocking and whirring back surprises you—but you’re even more surprised when he undoes yours. Still, you move your arm so it can snap back into place and then he’s pulling you into him.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, one hand on the back of your head as you lean over the small gap between the seats, unable to stop yourself from shedding more tears. “It’s not your fault. I’m sorry.”

He’s sorry.

For not loving you?

If it’s not your fault he doesn’t love you back—then whose fault is it? Who’ll take the fall?

But still, he’s holding you so carefully, like you’re made of porcelain. Something to be protected. Or at the very least, something to be mourned even after it’s in pieces.

As you lean against him, lulled by the slow in and out of his breath, the inverse of yours, and the way he slips his thumb over the back of your hair in silence for a few minutes—you wonder what’s missing. Why he’s not satisfied.

“I don’t understand you.”

The words come out flat, muffled by his coat, garbled with leftover tears.

“What was that?” Spencer asks gently, still playing with your hair. You sniffle, adjusting your head so your cheek is to his shoulder and your lips are no longer smushed.

“I just… I want you to explain it to me.”

“Explain what?”

You sit up just enough to meet his eyes. The movement seems to take him by surprise, but he keeps his hands on you—one slipping to your cheek and the other still loyal to your back. He brushes his fingers over the delicate skin beneath your eye and you cover them with your own in an effort to get him to stop treating you so kindly. But even now, when you’re mad at him for being so gentle in the way that he hurts you, you can’t help but seek the familiar callus on the side of his trigger finger. It’s an odd thing to anticipate missing, but you’ll miss all of him. You can’t imagine holding a hand without that familiar anomaly—a cairn to show you where he’s been and who you’re holding.

He curls his warm hand around yours and you hold your joined fist out for him in emphasis, speaking louder than either of you were prepared for.

“This! You! I understand that we don’t feel the same way about each other and maybe I can’t change that. But then you do this and I don’t understand why. I don’t understand why this isn’t enough for you, because it’s enough for me, and I just—I don’t know what else I can give you. I don’t know what else there is. I don’t understand why I’m not... enough.” The tears are back and flowing freely, but you forge breathlessly ahead, because you’ve finally found a way to be honest and you’re not going to stop now. Spencer is frowning, lips parted and clearly confused or shocked or something, but you continue your confessional before he has the chance to interrupt. “I want to be enough, but you didn’t even give me the chance, and I don’t think it’s fair that we’re breaking up when you didn’t let me try. Maybe if you just told me, if you explained what’s missing I could fix it and you could love me back, and—please. I just want to try. Please, Spencer.”

A car engine revs somewhere far away, echoing down the street. It reverberates for several seconds, unimpeded by any other noise. Any word, any breath.

His voice is thin when he responds a moment later, still studying your face with a kind of scrutiny that is so indecipherable you don’t know how you expect him to respond.

“Love you back?”

You blink.

Your stomach drops.

For all that you’d revealed, for all that you’d willingly humiliated yourself with your pathetic supplication—you’d meant to keep that four letter word to yourself.

What a way to make an exit from your relationship.

Spencer is still looking at you, keeping you pinned to your seat, and as much as you wish it wasn’t the case he’s not going to let you off the hook this time. He’s going to demand an answer, and you have a 0% chance of bursting into mist before you have to provide an explanation, so you have no choice but to say something.

What, exactly, you’re going to say—you don’t know.

“I didn��t…”

“You didn’t mean it.”

The response comes so quickly, sharp as a slap, that you jump back slightly, a deep frown twisting your brow. Spencer makes no effort to keep his hand in yours as you slip from his grasp.

“That’s not what I was—”

“Just say what you mean.” Silence. “Tell me.”

It’s like he’s got an ice pick to your chest. It’s like he wants you to humiliate yourself even further, to punish you for your messy indiscretions.

“Spencer…”

It’s a warning. You’re giving him a chance to stop this before he hurts you sadistically. Before he becomes unrecognizable.

He swallows.

“Please.” And then, a second later, when you’re still trying to process the quiet pain in his voice and suddenly faced with the unexpected question of who is hurting who, “please, just… tell me if you meant it.”

For the first time tonight, you notice how exhausted he looks. Slightly gaunt, even paler than usual. Shadows pool deeper in the hollows of his face. His eyes look glossy, dark crescents below awaiting to catch tears you realize you’ve never seen fall. The tonal shift has you so disoriented, so out of your body like you’re seeing yourself in his own injuries—the truth becomes the only humane answer. Even if it hurts you.

“Yes. I meant it. You know I mean it.”

“I don’t know that,” he says on a shaky exhale. “How would I know that?”

And he’s got the ice pick back at your sternum. It’s tipped in poison. The mallet trembles in the air. So does your voice.

“You told me you didn’t feel the same. You said it was new for me and different and I was going to make things complicated and you treated me like I was a stupid kid, and—and it doesn’t even matter. This was dumb. I’m sorry I said anything, I don’t… I don’t know what I’m doing. I just.. I can’t do this.”

You’re about to open the door, every muscle tense as you wonder what the hell is wrong with you. What reduced you to the weepy, pathetic girl, begging a boy to love her despite knowing it doesn’t work like that—the same girl you’ve looked down your nose at in every film and TV show and in every high school and college hallway since you learned what self-superiority meant. Before you knew exactly what it felt like to be her.

“Wait.”

He says your name.

And of course you pause.

You want a reason to stay. If you had more self-respect, you wouldn’t. But you know you’ll give him as many chances to give you an excuse as he’s willing to take. You knew that before your fingers met the metal of the door handle.

“Just—hold on a second. Can you look at me?”

You sniffle and wipe your eyes with the heel of your palm before turning around to face him once more. You wonder if anyone will ever have the kind of power he has over you ever again.

The despair leaves only wisps of itself on his face—mostly he looks like he’s thinking hard about something. It’s jarring.

“You’re talking about our phone call on Sunday, right?”

You nod petulantly with a quick teary eye-roll because obviously that’s what you’re talking about.

Something lights in his own dark eyes as he inhales, parts his lips as if to speak, and stops himself again. Like he’s got news that he’s not sure how to break.

“The things I said, on that call… I wasn’t talking… about you.”

Your insides feel like tangled yarn as you stare at him uncomprehendingly.

“I mean, I was. I was talking about us. But not in the way you think, it was—” he stops, rubbing his eyes and taking a frazzled breath. “I know what it’s like to be the one who cares more. I have to assume that I’m the one who cares more because when I don’t, I ruin things. And with you, I felt like—the stakes were so high, and I thought it’d be safer for me to not say anything until I knew you felt the same. But I know that’s not fair to you so I tried to tell you over the phone that if you didn’t feel the same way it was okay. And now I’m—I’m realizing the way I phrased it was incredibly unclear and misleading, and somehow I fucked it up in a completely new way. But I wasn’t referring to you. I just didn’t want you to feel stuck with someone who can’t give you casual when you have so much ahead of you. I had no idea you felt that way about me. And I am so, so sorry that I hurt you. I never meant for that to happen.”

You blink.

And for some reason, begin sobbing.

Spencer freezes for a moment, then tells you to stay there and you barely have the capacity to wonder what he means as you hear his own door opening then slamming shut again. A moment later he’s on the passenger side, opening your door and leaning in.

“Hey,” he whispers, gently pulling your hands from your face and making you turn your head to look at him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. But that’s good news, right? Why all the tears, lovely? What’s wrong? Please talk to me.”

You take a shuddering breath.

“This is all my fault, I ruined everything because I was too scared to tell you before and now—and now—”

Stroking your cheeks to wipe away the tears is a futile effort because they just keep coming, but Spencer does it anyway, and he speaks so kindly, so evenly it somehow hurts deeper.

You were terrible to him. And he had been prepared to accept that. He thought you didn’t love him, and he was still willing to be the subject of all your cryptic frostiness and inexplicable cruelty.

“It is not your fault. You didn’t ruin anything. I’m still right here. We’re okay.”

“But we’re breaking up, and—and I was so mean to you. That’s not okay, Spencer.”

You finally look at him. He’s close, eyes warm and wide as he looks directly into your own teary gaze, shaking his head earnestly.

“You were confused, honey. So was I. It was just a misunderstanding. But… I know I was unkind to you. I cannot express how sorry I am for that, and the last thing I want is for us to break up, but if you think that’s what’s best, I’ll… I’ll understand.”

His voice is dangerously thin by the end, strained with impending tears of his own. But he’s eternally kind—backlit by the streetlamps and beautiful like an angel. Whatever you want, he’ll give you. Even if it’s this.

“I don’t want that. I don’t.” You sigh, closing your eyes briefly against the world as you realize the impending breakup had been a delusion all along. That you were going to let your insecurities and some sick pride end the relationship for you. All that despair had been for nothing. Or—maybe not nothing. You realize he still hasn’t said it back. But you won’t be a coward. It’s not worth losing him. You open your eyes. “I just—I want us to be on the same page. And if you don’t love me yet or if you don’t wanna say it, or if you can’t, I get it—it’s okay, but if you don’t could you maybe just tell me? So that I’ll know—”

Before you can process it Spencer is leaning in, head angled to accommodate you, pressing his lips to yours so softly your breath catches and your stomach flips. Maybe softer than he ever has before, and it’s like taking a deep breath after holding it through a dark tunnel. You exhale a tentatively soft sigh against him, releasing air you don't have along with the fraught tension in most of your body. All too quickly he’s pulling away, hands still cupping your cheeks and thumbs stroking over your skin. When he speaks it’s not quite a whisper, but secret-soft.

“How could I not be so in love with you?”

Suddenly you can feel the world turning underneath you. Or maybe you’re just dizzy from lack of oxygen. Either way it feels good. A drop of warmth makes a splash in your stomach and slowly spreads through every vein and capillary until you’re sure you’re glowing gold.

“Really?”

“Of course really. I’m—” he takes a breath of his own, and you realize how difficult this must be after what happened the last time he professed his love for a girl. Your chest aches for him. His voice is low and solicitous, but it wavers slightly. “I should have told you sooner. I wanted to, but I was worried—I was worried the way I felt for you was… too much. I am so in love with you it scares me. I still don’t know what to say or how to act around you. When I’m gone, sometimes I imagine quitting my job, just so I can come home and see you sooner. When I have a gun in my hands, I start thinking about all the things I would do to keep you safe, or—or just because you asked me to. And if what you wanted was for me to leave you alone, I would have done that. If you wanted me to drop everything and everyone to be with you I would have done that. And I know you’d never ask those things of me. But any of them, I’d do in a heartbeat. Which is… it’s a little scary, huh?”

The final sentence is a nervous self-effacing chuckle, which you can match in sound only—one breathy attempt at a laugh from your slackened jaw.

When that’s the only response you can manage, he clears his throat.

“Too honest?”

You shake your head as if in a fog.

“No. Not too honest. But I’m just… I’m trying not to cry again.”

He smooths over your hair fondly. His own eyes are shiny and full of wonder as he studies you for a short while, like you're doing something much more awe-inspiring than sniffling in the passenger seat of his car. Then one hand is dropped to your shoulder and the other braced against your seat back. Finally, he pulls back to a more reasonable distance with a shaky sigh. It’s a sound of relief. You want to hug him, and all the past hims who have ever been hurt by anyone.

“You, um—you need to rehydrate. Do you have anything that will rebalance your electrolytes? If you don’t I can go to the store—”

“You don’t need to do that,” you assure him with a small, watery laugh, loosely grabbing the wrist that brushes your shoulder.

“But you need to take care of yourself. And I know you haven’t been drinking enough water because you never do.”

There’s a lingering overwrought shakiness to his voice, but it’s still the most relaxed he’s sounded since he came home, and you realize that the worst is behind you. The storm that you’d been so sure you couldn’t weather is somehow clearing up.

“I can’t believe we almost just broke up.”

He hangs his head, dropping it to the curve of your neck and groaning.

“Don’t say that. Let’s not think about that right now. Just—” when he raises his head again, and shakes it slightly to get his hair out of his eyes, they’ve cleared, like he’s on a mission to change the subject. “Let’s go upstairs. Will you let me take care of you?”

You give him an exaggerated nod, still sniffing, and the smile that grows on his face is like seeing the sun rise above the ocean. You love his smile. You love him.

Spencer kisses you on the cheek.

“Okay. Let me lock the car and then we can go up.”

As soon as you get into your apartment and turn on the light Spencer goes to the kitchen. It’s a small unit, but antique and nice enough, though you prefer Spencer’s. There’s still some tension as you observe him filling a glass with water, kicking your boots off by the door—but not necessarily the bad kind. You’re not sure exactly what it is.

“Where are you going?” He asks as you pass the kitchen area to turn on a standing lamp in the opposite corner of the room.

“I don’t like the big light.” A warm glow emanates through stained glass as you flick it on.

“I know that. I just didn’t realize it was a higher priority than your wellbeing.” His tone is sardonic but he’s already switching off the overhead lighting for you. You give him a wry smirk as you finally approach and take the proffered glass from his waiting hand.

“Ambience over everything, baby.”

His brows pinch at the cavalier sentiment—you never call him baby, so you're sure he knows it’s a joke—and he shakes his head with a humorous little huff of air through his nose, watching as you drink deeply. Your hand is shaking. Spencer notices and covers it with both of his, taking the half empty glass with one and grabbing your hand with the other.

“Adrenaline,” he murmurs, kissing your knuckles. “It’ll go away soon. Did you get enough?”

You nod, smiling small but genuinely. Emotionally exhausted or not, you’re happy.

Spencer strays, not far, to set the glass on the counter. Then he turns to face you, bracing his palms on the ledge and just watching you for a moment with the kind of smile that makes you nervous in the best way.

He beckons you to him with nothing more than a quick tilt of his head, and you shuffle across the floor in your socks til you’re toe to toe. Without your shoes on, he feels much taller. Still he just watches you for a moment—not that you mind. Your view isn’t half-bad. The faint warm glow from the lamp casts shadows over his face, highlighting all the perfect angles, deep brown eyes framed by dark lashes, and lips that still make you feel like a girl with a crush when you look at him. His hair is getting long. You’re unreasonably glad you still get to look at him like this.

“Hi,” you whisper—something about the intimate dark of the room feels like a place for secrets.

“Hi, pretty.” Spencer tucks hair behind your ear, eyes soft wherever they focus on your face like if he even looks at you too sharply you might break. “Have I told you how much I missed you while I was gone?”

He knows he hasn’t.

“Even when I was being a heinous bitch?”

Spencer laughs and it makes you smile too. The way his smile changes the landscape of his whole face will never feel any less like observing a natural phenomenon. It’s unfair how beautiful he is, and how you’re keeping him all to yourself in the dark on the fourth floor of an apartment building in DC.

“Even then. Not sure that’s the wording I would have used.”

“I missed you too,” you admit softly.

He maps your face with wandering eyes like he’s done a hundred times. Vaguely you wonder if he sees the same kind of beauty in you that you see in him. If he sees landmarks in your flaws and stars beyond the observable universe in your eyes.

Spencer sweeps your hair over your shoulder, fingertips grazing your neck.

“Can I kiss you?” He murmurs.

Butterflies fill your stomach and you nod shyly, unsure of what would come out if you tried to speak.

His free hand settles on your lower back and brings you into him until you’re chest to chest. With his other on your jaw, he bows his head, and you angle yours up, allowing your eyes to flutter shut.

Spencer kisses you so gently it aches in your chest, still cupping your face and stroking your cheek. You can’t help wrapping your arms around his middle—before he’s pulling away far too soon.

And he’s laughing.

“What were you drinking?”

You frown, flustered and trying to remember a time before his lips were on yours.

“Water.”

“Before that, baby. At the bar.”

You think back even further, head muddled even more by the endearment so that it takes you a moment to recall.

“A Shirley Temple. Derek brought it to me. Why? Is that bad?”

“No,” he says, still smiling as his lips brush yours. “You’re perfect. You taste like candy. It’s cute.”

Oh. You feel warm as he presses another kiss to your lips—and this time you insist on him staying awhile. He’s happy to oblige.

Spencer kisses you soft and careful at first, and then deeper, but still so slow, until you can’t help the way you’re bunching the fabric of his shirt between your fingers and rising on your toes to try and get impossibly closer. He kisses you the way you’ve been needing him to since he left, long and unhurried and sweet—and takes everything you give him, siphoning away all your leftover turmoil and angst until you’re weightless. You’re deprived of oxygen, you’re dizzy, and you don’t care at all.

“I love you,” you breathe against him before he captures your lips again with a hum that flips your stomach, his hand rubbing over your hip.

“Say it again,” he mutters against your mouth a second later, brushing hair away from your face.

It comes out a little mumbled this time between kisses, but it comes out all the same.

“Love you.”

He sighs into you—relief that mirrors your own.

“I love you.”

It seems like the kind of thing that will never stop sounding perfect from his lips.

A final deep kiss shortens into a series of smaller ones, and then he’s pulling away slowly, brushing the corner of your mouth affectionately.

Both of you require a few deep breaths—a moment to let your sparkling eyes wildly chart each familiar curve and convex and shade and shadow of the other’s face—before either of you can speak. Spencer breaks the silence first.

“I’m sorry.”

You frown, stirred from your brainless bliss by his unexpected apology.

“For what?”

The fiery glow in his eyes dampens slightly.

“For what I said at the bar.”

Oh.

That.

It feels like a lifetime away—memories seen through someone else’s eyes. Words like blows from a less familiar mouth.

You look away. For a while, you’d forgotten about that. Ideally he wouldn’t have reminded you.

At least he doesn’t make you look at him. He just strokes your hair, watching you examine the tiled counter. His voice is soft and soothing, like he’s appealing to a scared rabbit. Or maybe something angrier and with more teeth.

“You’re not immature, or badly behaved, or thoughtless. I was having an emotional reaction, I got defensive, and I lashed out. It was unfair and unkind of me to throw those things back in your face when I know how much trust it takes for you to be vulnerable with me. There’s nothing I can say or do that will adequately make up for that, but I want you to understand that I didn’t say any of it because it was the truth. I said it because I didn’t understand how you were feeling and I was hurt. I was insecure and I acted juvenile. I am so, so sorry, honey. You don’t have to forgive me, but you do need to know that none of it is true.”

Once you bite your lip long enough to be sure you won’t cry again, you speak.

“It’s okay,” you insist with a cheerfulness as natural as hard plastic, something in your chest twinging. “I was mean too. Like you said, we were both confused.”

“It is not. I made you cry.”

Sometimes you forget that he’s not like other people. He’ll never accept anything less than the barest truth. So you look back up at him and speak with a level of honesty that you hope satisfies him.

“I forgive you. You didn’t mean it. And I have insurance because Derek said he and Emily would kick your ass if you’re mean to me again.”

You hear the sad humor in his voice. His hand runs up and down your back.

“If I’m ever mean to you again, I personally invite you to kick my ass. And then let Derek and Emily have their turn.” He thumbs at your cheek, studying you in silence for a moment. “I can’t tell you how much I wish I could take it back.”

You stand up a little straighter. Spencer tracks you with his eyes, noting the way you smile slightly.

“You’ll find a way to make it up to me.”

“I’ll do anything for you,” he admits, barely a whisper and the truth of it so heavy you can feel it too.

But for tonight you can’t contend with more weight.

“You know what you could do right now?”

The mischief in your tone is obvious, and he hesitates, like he’s not sure he wants to let you move on from this so quickly. But eventually he plays along, pressing his thumb into the dip of your back and speaks lowly, just as you’d hoped he would.

“What’s that?”

You smile slyly.

“You could kiss me again.”

“Hm… I don’t know, three times in one night? Sounds a little excessive.”

“Do you want to be forgiven or not?” You huff. He smiles lazily, already dipping his head to press his lips to yours.

“I thought I was already forgiven.”

“Apologies can be retracted.”

“Ah.” His next words are mumbled as his lips ghost yours. “Well we wouldn’t want that.”

Spencer puts you out of your misery, not bothering to warm you up to it before he’s kissing you with a deep need. It’s still languid, and not hungry, exactly—it’s more like an aching, mind-numbing thirst. It’s all-consuming, overwhelming to have all of his burning focus pinpointed on you like this. Both hands come to cup your face and you wonder if he wants you in ways that he doesn’t entirely understand, just as you want him. You wonder if anything could possibly sate this desire to possess him completely and for him to possess you, to trade corporeal forms—or if it’s just something you’ll have to live with like a metaphysical itch you can’t scratch. As he forces you to tip your head back for him, using his height to his advantage, breathing deeply against you and attempting to push himself impossibly closer, you begin to think he understands exactly how you feel.

As soon as you’d sensed he wanted it, your lips had parted for him. He knows he could have any part of you. He knows how eager you are to give yourself to him. You’ve done everything to prove it, and yet you’ve never needed him quite like you do ask he pushes off the counter and slowly backs you against the wall, protecting your head with a hand as the paintings rattle ever so slightly. You gasp into his mouth and he kisses you greedier still, but his hands don’t stray from your cheeks.

Not until, that is, you hook your right leg around his left, and he catches it, fingers wrapping under the bend of your knee.

Never in your life have you regretted picking jeans rather than a skirt more than you do right now.

But to your disappointment, Spencer slows down to a halt—pulling his lips from yours like they’d been stuck by molasses until he’s far enough away to study you wildly, panting just as you are. His hair hangs over his smoldering eyes. He’s disheveled. It’s sexy.

“What?” You whisper, voice surprisingly hoarse.

He looses a dry, abashed laugh. The flush he’s sporting is incredibly charming.

“I’m supposed to be playing nice with you.”

Spencer says it like it’s a mild hindrance. Something frissons in your core. You smile a little wider as you continue to catch your breath, which seems to please him.

“Playing nice?”

“Being gentle. I’m not supposed to push my favorite things against walls when they’re delicate.”

Your face heats at the way he speaks of you—if it weren’t Spencer, if you didn’t know he really doesn’t think of you as an object, you’d be pissed. But instead all you can think about is how good it feels when he calls you his.

“According to who?”

His eyes dart between yours and then down to your lips several times before he averts them to the wall beside you with an intensity that could burn holes through the plaster. Is that how he looks at you?

“According to me. I think… god, you're going to hate me for this. But I think I need you to kick me out.”

You drop your leg at the same time as you do your heart.

“What?”

“I know,” he says, over-apologetically, “I know, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let that escalate. But we can’t… do anything tonight.” Before you can protest, he rushes to explain himself. “It’s just that it’s been a long day. It’s been a long week, actually, and I doubt either of us have slept very much, and I think you’re really drained, and probably not thinking super clearly. I don’t think you’re in the best place for decision making.”

You look pointedly down to where he still has you pressed to the wall.

“I think I’m in a great place.”

At that he steps back, but lets his hands find yours and pulls you away from the wall—just not quite as close as before. His nose bumps against yours as he speaks low and sweet.

“I understand that you want me to stay right now. But it’s not a good idea to associate fighting with physical pleasure. That can set some really dangerous patterns.”

“We’re not fighting,” you plead, matching his tone as you look up at him with big eyes. His fingers lace with yours.

“You’re right. Maybe fighting was the wrong word. But we had some pretty intense conversations today, didn’t we?”

Reluctantly you nod.

“Right,” he agrees. “Same premise. We need to be able to have those conversations without getting distracted.”

In a last ditch attempt to get him to change his mind, you give him your best approximation of the imploring, wide-eyed gaze he sometimes uses on you. Something not entirely smile and not entirely smirk twists the corners of his mouth. When he ducks down to kiss you quickly, you reciprocate, but you lack the enthusiasm of earlier.

“Hey.”

“Hm,” you respond, dejectedly.

“Don’t get all grumpy because I don’t put out.”

That puts a disgruntled little smile on your face as he probably knew it would.

“I guess you just gave it up easy to all those other women.”

He grabs your chin and gives you a final peck.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never been with other women.”

“Mhm,” you grumble good-naturedly, pushing away from him and going to the door to undo the deadbolt. “Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

“Wow. I really must have overstayed my welcome if that’s the goodbye I get.”

You turn back around, brows raised.

“Oh, I was prepared to be very welcoming. This is your doing.”

“Uh-huh. Come here.”

Happily you skitter back across the few feet of wooden flooring and wrap your arms tightly around him one more time, pressing your cheek to his chest. He’s ready, winding his arms over yours and rubbing your back. It’s eerily similar, you realize as he presses his face into the concave of your shoulder, to when he’d left on that most recent case.

But at the same time—everything’s different.

And you won’t make the same mistake twice.

“Hey,” you smile, resting your head on his shoulder. Spencer pulls back to look at you, a similar grin on his face.

“Hey what?”

“I remembered what I was gonna say.”

The grin widens. He knows exactly what you’re talking about.

“Tell me.”

“I was going to tell you that I love you. And—I hope you’re not one of those people who’s uncomfortable being told that often. Because if that’s the case I’m really going to annoy you.”

“I’m not that kind of person,” he assures. “Tell me as often as you can.”

“But you should say it back. It’s more polite that way.”

“I love you,” he murmurs, in a voice more serious than your teasing tones had been but still soft and sweet around the edges. “You know, people talk about love as if it’s completely irrational and illogical. But with you… I think the world actually makes more sense than it used to. I understand things I never did before. You’ve taught me a lot.”

It’s like a lightshow in your stomach. You wonder if he has any idea the effect his casual musings have on you.

“You already knew everything.”

“Not everything,” Spencer whispers. “Not about the things that matter.”

And you’re fresh out of teases. All you can do is look up at him with big eyes again, in awe of the fact that you get to keep him after all.

“Will you text me when you get home?” You request, voice reverent in the wake of an admission you could never hope to top.

“I will. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nod, because it doesn’t even matter if you had other plans tomorrow. They’re as good as cancelled.

Spencer kisses your cheek, and you get the sense that things are still being left unfinished. There’s an unresolved tension that you can’t shake, even after all the apologies and kisses and sweet words. Still, he made a point with his talk about not mixing argument with pleasure, and you’d like to respect those wishes because you respect him—even if every atom of your being shakes with desire to keep him locked in your bedroom, hidden away from the world together, for as long as you can possibly manage.

Eventually, you loosen your hold, and you let him go. He lingers at the door, hands in his pockets, just watching you and mirroring your small smile as you hold onto the counter with an iron grip to keep yourself in check. After he finally peels his gaze away from yours and silently closes the door behind him, you stand there, staring at the wood for at least a minute.

Once you manage to shake yourself from your revery with a deep breath, you grab your glass from earlier and stand in front of the sink, watching it fill with a white jet of water. It’d be a shame to admit it to him, but maybe Spencer is right. Maybe you do need time to emotionally digest today. After all—that was technically your first argument. It seems to have left you sort of wound up. Not in a bad way, per se—maybe you just need to take a shower, let the hot water roll over your shoulders and wash away the frenetic energy that clings to you.

Still, something tells you that you won’t be getting much sleep tonight, even if you do take the world’s longest shower. You’re simply too high-strung. You wonder if having Spencer here would fix that or make it worse. But ultimately, he’d made the call that it was a bad idea for him to stay, and you’re generally inclined to trust his judgement.

The thought makes you laugh into your cup as you drink. Even after the debacle that was the past week, you trust him to know what he’s doing. Maybe you need to rethink that, at least temporarily, until he’s had a chance to redeem himself.

Just then, your front door is opening with absolutely zero warning and slamming shut again before you can finish whipping around. Your heart threatens to choke you and you almost drop your glass, clutching your chest.

“Jesus, you—”

But the words die in your throat as Spencer storms toward you, shrugging his coat off with a white-hot chill in his eyes. It’s enough to freeze you in place, heart drumming against the confines of your ribs.

“You really need to start locking that door,” he breathes, tossing his jacket on the counter before grabbing your face and crashing his lips into yours, palms pressed to your jaw and fingers pushing into your hair. You stand there, hands hovering in air before you gain the wherewithal to blindly set the glass down behind you. Your heart is pounding as you immediately submit to the kiss, whining softly against his lips and cautiously seeking stability in the fabric of his shirt. Spencer pulls away only briefly, allowing you to gasp for much-needed air. His brown eyes are like molten gold on you, pupils blown wide and wild as he scans your face, taking heavy breaths of his own. “Anyone could just walk in.”

part seven

#spencer reid #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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sttoru · 11 months

Text

♯ 𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐘 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊.

⟣ sypnosis. kento has been extremely busy lately, going on business trips and so forth. he decides to surprise you by coming back earlier than expected. that’s how you end up finding your lover on top of you, showering you in his affection at 3 in the morning.

⟣ tags. nanami kento x female reader. fluff, bit of angst, suggestive towards the end. reader gets called 'sweetheart, angel, dear' wc: 1.8k

⟣ note. okayokay finally an adition to my event heheh ive almost forgotten about it but then i saw this prompt & was like . ok nanami , i must write this rnnn no delaying anymore so here i am :3 its also very bad. i hate it sm LOL i hope u at least like it t_t

kento often asks himself why he had returned to the world he despised — the jujutsu society; his old high school. the sprawling curses everywhere are the main cause of his current misery.

he had been sent out on missions left and right, not catching a break in hopes of reducing any more civilian causalities than necessary. kento had even thought that maybe his previous 9-5 job wasn’t as bad as he had considered it.

overtime was every day for the sorcerer now. that wasn’t the worst thing - no - the fact that he was pratically living a long distant relationship with his beloved irritated him most.

a thought he had in his high school days reoccured in a moment of distress: ‘why not leave all those missions to gojo?’

you were still pretty understanding of his situation. kento appreciated that, though the guilt still ate away at him whenever he tried to sleep. an empty bed welcomed him each time he re-entered his hotel room — you saw the exact same scenery when returning home to your shared apartment.

both of you were adults; both knowing that life was unfair. the two of you being unable to see each other from time to time was a part of your life. kento and you still maintained a healthy relationship. that was all that really mattered in the end.

11:49PM. . . tonight wasn’t unlike any other night; you were preparing yourself to go to bed—changing into your pyjamas after showering, snuggling to a pillow under the covers and texting your lover one last message.

‘good luck on your mission as always! stay safe, i love you.’

you stare at your phone screen for a minute longer than intended. even if you tried to be mature about it — you longed for kento’s warmth and undivided attention. you want him with you, his strong arms holding you to his chest as you rest, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine in the best way possible.

you sigh defeatedly and put your phone down on your nightstand. just two days until you could see your partner again. you can hold onto that hope to keep you calm.

despite you trying to stay positive, you tossed and turned in your bed as you thought about kento’s safety. there was always a chance of him not coming home to you — always the possibility of that bed to be empty for the rest of your life.

all you could do was pray for his safety in your head whilst your eyes eventually closed from fatigue, your mind drifting off to a deep slumber.

03:14AM. . . kento opens the door he had wished to have opened way earlier. the door that lead to the place where his heart lays; the person who claimed his heart and soul for eternity. you.

he didn’t think he’d actually do it. kento had originally planned to finish his last job as soon as possible and then get home afterwards, but there seemed to be a change in routine.

the special grade sorcerer simply assigned the mission to ino — the person whom he could trust most to finish the job in one piece. as much as kento dislikes to put his juniors in possible risky situations, there are also situations where it’s fine to depend on them. besides, the mission could easily be done by a grade one sorcerer.

kento sighs. the familiar scent of your home was one he could recognise from miles away. one that could calm his nerves instantly. it was that same distinctive scent you carry; thus why your lover sometimes calls you his home.

‘i can’t wait to be home’ ‘i want to be home’ ‘i’m going home’ — all these sentences, which kento has uttered before in earlier conversations, weren’t referring to a place. rather to a person he held dear.

“oh, my sweetheart.” the blonde man whispers under his breath as his eyes catch the shape of your figure under the blankets. he quietly enters the master bedroom and closes the door behind him, not making a sound as to not interrupt your well-deserved sleep.

kento slowly undoes his dotted tie, along with the upper buttons of his blouse. he probably needs to go take a good shower before he could settle down with you — but that’d risk waking you up.

you look extremely angelic in his eyes. especially with your left cheek squished by the soft pillow your head rests on. you never once fail to convince him that you are indeed the woman of his dreams; the woman kento ever had and will have eyes for. it’s like you get more attractive to him as the days go on.

“mh,” your sudden and soft groan makes him realise just how disturbing his behaviour could be interpreted as. kento’s body was hovering over your sleeping one and he was just. . . staring at you with a soft smile. a smile which he didn’t even notice had permanently found its place on his weary face.

kento sits down on the edge of the mattress, callused hand gently tucking you in properly, putting the blanket over your shoulders to make sure you didn’t get cold. he can’t rest if you’re not comfortable— even if he himself was exhausted to the point his eyes were starting to feel heavy.

yet that exhaustion doesn’t last long. it never does when kento’s able to see you again after a tiring week of countless missions and other jobs. your presence alone grants him the energy to stay awake and take care of you. and himself. you’re the reason he keeps it going.

“i love you so much, my beautiful girl — my angel.”

kento sure was a romantic. even when you’re unaware and asleep.

he couldn’t help it; the feeling stirring inside of him. the feeling of adoration and love for you. you are simply resting, yet kento felt an urge to kiss you all over, show you the unending love he has for you. but. . that’d probably be disturbing your peace. you are sleeping after all. he

not that that would stop kento.

your eyes flutter open due to a sudden presence hovering over you. your entire face and neck area was feeling ticklish, like someone was placing tens of kisses all over the skin.

strands of blonde hair is the first thing showing up in your blurry vision. kento’s face follows afterwards as his head tilts back up, the warmth against your jawline disappearing along with it —

“ah, i’m sorry.” a low and almost guilty chuckle tumbles out of his sore throat. the visible confusion on your face makes him let out another, “shh, shh, it’s just me, sweetheart.”

your arms flew around kento’s torso the second the realisation dawns upon you. your heart went from a slow pace to one that caused your entire body to warm up immediately; the adorable reaction and increase in heart rate not going unnoticed by your lover.

you wordlessly hug him — almost still in shock by the sudden appearance. kento doesn’t fight off your tight embrace, instead, welcomes it with open arms. the delicate kisses on your skin continue, each being placed with precision whilst one of his hands keeps your head tilted a little — rough fingers being a contrast of the gentle grip they had on your jaw.

“i missed you lots,” kento murmurs, eyes closed as he basks in the warmth of your body, his lips refusing to let go of your neck, “i couldn’t wait anymore. i couldn’t be separated from you any longer or i’d lose it.”

his gruff voice sounded even deeper than it usually would. maybe due to the overuse of it during his missions. the lone thought makes you pout — the thought of kento working super hard just to provide for you both.

“i missed you more, love.” you mumble, bottom lip trembling a little as kento’s hug triggers a whole lot of emotions in you. his hugs were special, his muscular arms giving you a sense of comfort you couldn’t find anywhere. no one could hug you like he did, “you did well. you did so well.”

those were all the words kento needed. his lips come to halt right above your collarbone, his breath a bit heavy from how much he's holding himself back from doing more. one hand moves from your cheek to your waist, fingers toying with the fabric of your shirt.

“thank you, dear.” kento says. his words carrying a load of unending affection. your simple words of appreciation and encouragement makes him shiver in delight. this is what he longed for; this is what he did it all for.

it was clear. the answer to his question - of why he had returned to the jujutsu world, to become a teacher at his former high school - it was all for you. to be able to be with you, see you and hold you like this. to have someone like you appreciate all of his efforts.

“may i?” kento asks through a quiet whisper as he gently removes the blanket covering your figure, his eyes darting down towards your cleavage. he's asking for permission to cross that barrier — to cover you in the love you deserve.

you just stare at the blonde man above you for a second. you watch as he climbs onto the bed with you; the bed which was once empty and dull, now suddenly becoming your favourite place to be at. your fingertips graze against kento's sharp cheekbones. a habit you always did when you were appreciating his looks.

“go right ahead.” you answer with a confirming nod.

both of you were touch starved and had been deprived from each other's embrace for way too long. now was the perfect time to make up for all the time lost.

kento wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip past him. he smiles at you, a gentle and handsome smile, whilst a few of his blonde locks fall over his left eye — his hands already prying away the blanket covering your shape. it was time to show you just how much he has longed for you.

“hold on to me, sweetheart. i’m not stopping until you realise just how much i’ve missed all of you.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #nanami x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #jjk fic #jjk fanfic

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ronwestbreeze · 1 year

Text

too slow

pairing: miguel o'hara x spider!fem!reader

warnings: angst heheh. spoilers! small scenes of somewhat explicit nsfw. mentions of death!

summary: the both of you would come back from this. you would...right?

word count: 4.9k

author's note: did i come out of hiatus just to post a angsty miguel fic? yes. you know i had to as y'alls fav angst queen

part 2

No matter how far you left that spider life behind, he somehow managed to pull you back in.

And god you tried so desperately to stay away. To refuse him.

Miguel O’Hara just had a way with you. He always did.

Sometimes you wished you were stronger.

The moment you stepped into your apartment was when all of your senses struck your spine and made you freeze in your doorway.

No one else would have known to continue forward cautiously by leaping up to your ceiling and crawling the rest of the way into the apartment, high on alert. Then again, no one else was you. At least not in this universe.

Your spider senses got worse as you crawled toward your ajar bedroom door. When you were close enough, you dropped down as quietly as you could to the floor. One hand preparing a web to shoot and the other raising toward the door to push it further open.

Only you freeze all together.

A sharp tingle struck your back.

Behind you.

Of course, you were quick. Without turning toward the intruder entirely, you shot a web to grab a large vase sitting on a nearby table in the short hallway and swung it behind you. They dodged the vase just as fast and you instantly shot both of your webs toward the intruder. Only for them to be caught by them with both their hands.

“I’m disappointed, Domino.”

It was a mistake to let your guard down by only a little. It was a mistake to instantly recognize his voice.

“Miguel—AAARGH!”

A sudden yank from the webs caused you to fly forward until an iron grip wrapped around both your wrists. Until you were facing the scarlet and blue mask of the one Spider-Man you never expected to see again.

“Too slow.” Even with the mask, you could hear his smirk.

Now that you were aware of who you were dealing with, the tension in your muscles lessened. Just a little.

Some part of you wanted to say “You shouldn’t be here” but since you weren’t in the mood for a long and exhausting spout with the man, you took the more easy and straightforward route of the conversation.

“Why are you here, Miguel?”

His hold on your wrists loosened but he didn’t let go right away. Which was to your dismay as you really didn’t want to be this close to him. Not when you knew that both seeing him now and now having very little space between the both of you would compromise your senses, your steeled will.

And yet you didn’t pull away.

You watched quietly as his mask disappeared, trying your very best not to get too drawn into his features like you used to. Resisting the urge to run your fingers through his dark locks, tugging on some of them like the old days.

Stop.

That was a long time ago.

And it should remain that way.

Unfortunately, Miguel didn’t appear as strong or restrained. The way he hungrily looked at you wasn’t missed but it certainly wasn’t voiced. By either of them. That was something they wouldn’t touch right now. Probably not ever.

When his forehead gently brushed against yours, when his scent overwhelmed your nostrils was when you forced yourself back on solid ground.

“Miguel.”

Eventually, he also had to pull himself together. Eventually, he dropped his hold on your wrists and walked around you, putting a good distance between the two of you. Warily and curiously, you watched his movements.

He gestured toward the shattered pieces of what once was the vase, “I bought you that, you know. That was rude.”

“So is breaking into someone’s apartment.” You retorted dryly.

Miguel suddenly took out a small object that shone in the gentle light of the sunset, “I still have a key.”

You huffed, “Imma need that back.” You tried reaching for it, only for Miguel to quickly yank it out of your reach, the beginnings of a smirk forming on his face. That’s when you grew annoyed.

“I thought you were never gonna come back to this universe again. Remember? You went on a whole tangent about it.”

“Mmm.” Was his response at first. You silently watched him tuck the extra key away into some invisible pocket in his suit. “That was only after you said you were never coming back to the team” You tensed at this as the memories came trickling back. “Or coming back to me—”

“So what’s changed?”

Miguel frowned, “I need you—”

“No.”

You reframed from smirking at the twitch in his jaw, at the way his trained mask momentarily slipped at your obvious stubbornness. You gestured in the direction of the front door, “If that’s all, the door’s over there—”

“It’s Electro.” That, of course—he knew it would—made you stop. It was your turn for your mask to fall, just enough for Miguel to notice as well. The intenseness in his features softened, “It’s your brother…he somehow made it into another universe—”

“When do we leave?” Miguel had the audacity to look surprised. You glared, “I’m not doing this for you, O’Hara. It’s like you said, he’s my brother. After that, I’m done for good, you hear me?”

With that, he schooled his face back to a controlled mask. One that meant business.

“Whatever you say, Domino.”

You wince and send him another glare before stalking toward your bedroom to change.

Ever since he started calling you that name, Domino, you’ve hated it. It originated from a mission gone bad—mostly for you—and he hadn’t stopped calling you Domino since. It was mostly because you had been knocked down into a bunch of trash cans that happened to be in a long line.

Hobie said you tumbled like a stack of dominos. Miguel never let that moment go.

Fuck him.

Yet despite your hatred for it, you never discouraged it. You just liked the way he said it. You liked the way his voice softened whenever—

No. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck. Him.

After this you wouldn’t ever have to see him again. You wouldn’t ever have to be wrapped up in his shadows, in his overwhelming way of showing…

Fuck him.

It was odd being back in your old suit. Frankly, it felt dated as you swung around in it. There was an itching part of you that wanted to update it, get new designs, and test them out of your suit. Self-restraint was a challenge during that mission. Especially around Miguel.

Thankfully, Jessica and Hobie showed up so it wasn’t just you and Miguel facing Electro—or in other words your estranged brother. It was already enough having to face family drama, but then you add a frustratingly unlabeled drama that kept interfering with your focus.

“Stay on your side, O’Hara!” You snapped when you dodged an electric zap sent your way.

“Don’t be a child!” Miguel shot back.

“I’m not! We agreed Hobie and I’d take left and you and Drew would take right! You are not holding your end of the agreement!” You landed on a nearby pylon. “Which is no surprise!”

Another blast came from Electro, this time aimed at Miguel and Hobie. Hobie was able to swing out of the way and land on the same tower with you while Miguel landed on the other side, “What the hell is that supposed to mean!?”

“She means you’re an asshole, bud.” Hobie added.

“Nobody asked you!”

“Hey!” Jessica shouted from below, steering her motorcycle toward Electro, “Less fighting like children and more getting this guy before he causes the entire city to go dark!”

The fight hadn’t gone on for long. Eventually, you were able to confront your brother up close despite Miguel’s protests against it. Yet you were the one that knew your brother the best, who was he or anyone else to tell you what to do when it came to him? Certainly not, Miguel. Leader of a secret society or not, this was your turf. He asked you here and you would complete the job the way you knew how.

There was a point where you managed to get Electro at a somewhat calm and the thrilled part of you was ready to prove Miguel right. But unfortunately, family bonds wouldn’t save you in this situation. It wouldn’t tie anything up in the neat bow you were expecting.

The blast nearly threw you entirely off the building if not for a bunch of webs catching you in mid air and bringing you back up. Miguel and Hobie managed to subdue Electro thanks to your unintentional distraction while Jessica was the one to pull you back to your feet.

“Damn, babes, that was a close one.” She gave an amused smirk. “Just how long have you been out of the game?”

“Shut up, Drew.” You grumbled despite the other woman’s grin.

Coming back to HQ was the very last thing you wanted to do. But you wanted to make sure your brother was properly dealt with. Even if that meant dealing with Miguel’s bullshit along the way.

As you entered the computer room, Miguel’s mask came off, “What the hell was that back there?”

“Domino doing Domino things.” You mutter dryly.

“Yeah you are.” Hobie held up his hand for a high five, which you reluctantly gave.

Miguel sent him a scathing scowl before turning back to you, “You think this is funny? You could’ve gotten yourself killed back there!”

“I had it handled.” You gritted out, removing your own mask. “He didn’t need everyone coming at him all at once. If you had given me a few more minutes with him—“

“But we didn’t have a few minutes, did we?” Miguel snapped quickly.

“No, of course not.” You crossed your arms, ignoring how he stood taller than you. Ignoring how he would’ve appeared menacing if not for your pissed off mood. “Because everything has to go O’Hara’s way, right? Fuck everybody else.”

Hobie smirked from the side of the room, his mask also removed, “I missed her. ‘ow come she’s not around often, Bossman?”

Miguel’s jaw twitched dangerously because they all knew Hobie never referred to him as “Bossman” unless to piss him off. because he knew that Hobie didn’t respect him as much, and didn't care for him as a leader. Bossman was just Hobie being a little shit, in Miguel’s words at least.

“It was fucking reckless.” Miguel seethed. “And as usual, you’re too immature to even realize what you did. What could’ve happened—“

“You brought me here!” You snapped back, as venomous as his fangs. “If you don’t like my way then you should’ve left me the fuck alone!”

“Guys, come on.” Jessica sighed, already used to the both of you like this.

Miguel was fuming and trying so desperately to hide the fact that you easily worked him up this way. And him failing at hiding it only made him pissed off even more.

He hissed, turning his back to you.“I was being considerate. For your sake. It was your brother after all…It was a mistake bringing you in. I should’ve known fucking better.”

A bitter laugh left your lips, “Finally! We can agree on something!” You stalked out of the room with Hobie trailing behind you—you were used to him following you around—as you muttered, “Let me know when you’ll be sending Max back.”

Just as you left the room, there was a loud crash and Jessica snapping at Miguel.

When your brother was finally sent back to your universe so that he could be sent to a cell powerful enough to hold him, you left HQ and didn’t look back when you did. Swearing to yourself that it would be the last time you would ever allow yourself to step back into that place. To allow yourself to set your eyes upon him again.

Unfortunately, that promise didn’t last too long.

Despite yourself, you started messing with your suit designs. Adding new stuff to make it look less dated than before. But that didn’t mean you were back to that spider life. No. Not one bit.

Hobie swung by your dimension and suggested that both of you went crime fighting for the day. And you only agreed just so your fighting techniques weren’t so rusty anymore. But you weren’t back in the game. Not one bit.

Then Jessica came to visit, claiming that she wanted you to see the progress in her pregnancy and catch up as friends. Which then led you to following her into another dimension to fight another Rhino, which was a great success.

Fuck, you missed this.

And you were tempted. You really were tempted to swing through your city as their Spider person again.

Maybe it wouldn’t hurt after all. Didn’t mean you had to face Miguel. Yes. That was fine.

In the next month forward, you had started your crime fighting as the spider person of your dimension. A new suit and refreshed skills, you felt unstoppable. You even brought out your dimension traveling bracelet. Just to go and visit Hobie and Jessica whenever. Just that.

Soon, Jessica took on a new protege. Spider-Gwen. She was a nice kid and started coming over to your dimension with Hobie whenever they had the time. You liked her alot. She was like a little sister whenever she came around. Same as Hobie being like a younger brother to you.

At one point you found yourself back at HQ—you were honestly terrible at keeping your steeled will—but only to return a few bad guys to their respectful dimensions. You had fully planned on avoiding Miguel—at this point you hadn’t seen each other since your spat a month ago—and going back to your dimension.

That was the plan at least.

“How come you never go with us to see Miguel?” Gwen asked while the two of you watched one of the villains being sent back to their dimension. “You two don’t get along or…?”

Spider-Byte snorted and you sent the hologram a glare, “They have a special history, newbie. You’ll see someday.”

“Quiet, kid.” You mumbled, crossing your arms before addressing Gwen, “Yeah…we don’t get along. It’s best for the both of us that we aren’t in the same room together, right now.”

“Is it?”

You tried your very best not to allow your face to fall into shock at his voice coming from behind you and Gwen. Really, you should’ve expected that to happen.

Miguel approached the two of you, glancing briefly toward Gwen but his eyes remained glued to yours. “Drew’s asking for you. Says she needs your help on Level 4.”

It took you a few seconds to realize he had been talking to Gwen as the blonde nodded her head and disappeared out of the room. Spider-Byte threw on some headphones and continued with her work. In other words, it was just the two of you. The very opposite of what you had planned and wanted.

“I hear you’ve been coming around here a lot more often.” Miguel mused as he brushed past you, his arm grazing yours as he did. You watched him, a lot less hostile than you thought you would be. Instead, you only stared at his back muscles. “I didn’t know you’ve become quite the contradicting person.”

You shrugged, hugging your arms closer to you, “I’ve just been helping Jess and Hobie out. S’not a big deal.”

A sound came from his throat, similar to a chuckle, “I also hear that the White Spider is back on the news.”

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me?” You instead said, one of your brows raising slightly. “When did you start that up again?”

Miguel glanced over his shoulder, his face unreadable, “Who says I ever stopped?”

You smirk, trying to hide how tight your chest felt at his words. At how soft his voice had gotten.

“Look who’s become contradicting now.”

Miguel was quiet at that.

You tried to continue your original goal after that frustratingly vague interaction. You weren’t really sure where you had stood with him after that. Sure, you still were hesitant to rejoin the society fully—mostly because of him—but now you were going on missions with some of the members and helping Jessica train her protégé. At this point, you were practically back, just without the official stuff.

And now you were on a mission with Miguel. You hadn’t been on one of these since your fight. Piece by piece you were just breaking your own promises, your stubbornness was weakening. Your spine had shaken.

Damn him.

No matter what you could never resist Miguel.

You could tell it was the same for him.

“You should go home.”

“Do you know how many times you’ve said that and I’ve still ended up staying?” You leaned on the doorway entrance to his quarters with a smug look on your face. “I think you should give it up by now.”

Miguel was topless. After a particularly long mission, a lot of the team had come out with some cuts and bruises, Miguel wasn’t exempt from that.

You watched as he was cleaning his wound on his left shoulder, only that put too much strain on his bruised side every time he reached his right hand over to tend to that shoulder. For a few more minutes you watched him keep going at it before you sighed and eventually stepped in.

“Stop.” You smacked his hand to the side gently and took the bloodied cloth from his hand.

Miguel tensed, “Domino—”

“I’ve got it.” You told him sternly. “We don’t need you reopening your stitches. Just relax. I’ve got you.”

Your words had disarmed him and caused him to loosen the tension in his muscles at your gentle touch. The wound wasn’t too bad, at least not as bad as the one under his right arm. Once the blood was wiped away, there was just a bit of purple coloring. The blood must’ve been from someone else.

His breaths fanned against your own shoulder. You didn’t forget how close the two of you were in that moment. It was more like you were trying to distract yourself from the fact.

Instead, a small smile tugged at your lip, “It’s been a minute since you’ve been injured.” You noted the light scars on the other parts of his arm.

“Not really.” Miguel grunted, ducking his head down as he rested his elbows on his knees. “I got hit a couple months back. Only difference was that you weren’t there to lick my wounds clean.”

“Do you always need me to?” You joked halfheartedly.

A small tug upward in his lip made your heart skip, “I would prefer it better than being alone.”

“I thought you liked being a loner.”

“Not these days.”

You knew you were treading dangerous territory but the question left your lips before you could rethink it through.

“Did you really want me to go?”

Underneath your fingers, you felt him inhale, slowly.

“Honest?”

You scoffed, “I wouldn’t be asking if I wanted to hear a lie.”

Over his shoulder, he stared at you. A part of you wanted to shift under his intense gaze, a part of you wanted to look away sheepishly but you bravely held it. Though the change in your grip was probably a dead giveaway at your nervousness.

“If it were up to me, you wouldn’t have ever left my sight.”

You tried not to feel too overwhelmed by his words, knowing it was your own fault for asking. For even bringing it up in the first place.

So instead you snorted, “Wow. Sounds awfully possessive—”

His other hand grasped the back of your neck and brought you toward him, your lips connecting. His desperation for you was clear. And your resolve had slowly fallen—no that was such a lie. It had quickly crumbled the moment you felt his touch, the moment his lips were on yours, the moment you felt his desperation sink into your skin just as easily as his fangs would.

When his larger body moved on top of you, you knew your resolve had fully broken. Completely gone. When his lips found your neck, you were gone. When his hips rutted against yours, your mind was gone. When you finally felt him sink into your being, when you felt him inside you—god you never realized how much you had wanted this until now.

No. You knew.

Miguel held your hands down to the bed sheets, only you managed to slip them from his grip and find them tugging and running through his hair, legs wrapped around his hips to pull him closer.

You felt him smirk against your neck, “My stubborn girl.”

And just like that you were back into a cycle in which you swore not to fall into again. Only, this time the two of you didn’t make it known to the others. It was a silent choice between the two of you to keep whatever this was to yourselves. It was better that way you realized.

But as time went by, you knew it would be a little more difficult to hide it. Miguel was touchy. It was fine on days where it was just the both of you, when the both of you were working on something together. Yet on the days where you are around others, such as missions, you know he can’t help himself. And neither can you.

The both of you were terrible at hiding it in the end.

Hobie was surprisingly observant.

“You’re lookin’ cozy now.”

You glanced up to find Hobie lounging about as you were looking at videos of different dimensions. “Let it go, B—”

“I ain’t sayin’ shit.” He shrugged. “Just noticed a few things is all.”

And the two of you left it at that. Never really spoke on it again. Hobie now knew. And Jessica had eyes and a brain, she probably already put two and two together. Especially with you coming to HQ a lot more often now. Even the newbie, Gwen, took double takes every now and then whenever she saw you and Miguel together.

“You seem particularly stressed tonight.” You hummed to him on another night—this time in your apartment, squirming as his cock twitched inside of you.

Miguel looked down at you, a brow raised in challenge, “Can’t take it tonight, baby? Usually you like it a little rough, hmm?” He buried his face into your neck, his thrusts slower than before. Gentle nips at your neck that would sure to leave bruises the next day. Just the way he liked it. The possessive shithead.

“And yet, you’re still stressed.” You whisper next to his ear, breathing out a sigh of pleasure.

Miguel grunted in reply and remained at your neck. Until he slowly pulled away to rest his forehead on yours. He sighed against your skin, “Just another anomaly. Nothing we can’t fix.”

You smiled with a soft hum, “You always do anyway.”

His lips were pressed into yours, a hint of a smile shaping his mouth, “Not just me.”

The anomaly problem never went away it seemed. Soon Miguel got buried deep into his work. You were fine with it, already used to his committed work habits. Besides, you had your own world to manage. You weren’t just waiting all night for him to come home like some girlfriend slowly practicing patience. No, instead you had your own thoughts to keep you busy. But you still managed to find time and visit HQ. To visit the others. To visit Miguel.

It wasn’t until the anomaly was formed into a single person. Another Spider-Man. A kid.

Miles Morales.

Gwen told you about him a few times. How he was the first friend she made after her Peter’s death. You remembered wanting to meet the boy with how much Gwen kept talking about him. And you told Gwen this as well. That they should plan a day to go visit him. Unfortunately, that day never came to fruition.

The unfortunate part was the why.

“What are you not telling me about this Miles guy?” You already knew the answer. You weren’t stupid. You just wanted to know if Miguel would tell you. Would trust you with the information.

Miguel had his back turned to you, facing the screens when you stalked into the room to ask him this. “He isn’t your concern.”

“Bullshit.” You cross your arms. “Clearly, you said something to Gwen. And Jess. Hell, even Hobie. What are you not telling me, Miguel? Why is Miles Morales so important?” You narrow your eyes challengingly, “Or rather, why does he make you so nervous—”

“Enough, Domino.” Miguel said through gritted teeth, trying desperately not to snap at you. “He isn’t your concern. Let it go.”

Hobie had already filled you in on the details before you had come to Miguel about it. The information in itself was troubling, yes. But what was even more troubling was why you were hearing it from someone else other than Miguel. Why did he want to keep you in the dark about this?

That’s when your eyes landed on the old video of him and his daughter. The daughter he lost on another Earth.

“Fine.” You frowned. “Don’t tell me.”

Miguel still had his back toward you. You scoffed and turned to leave. You would’ve been fine to leave it there. That was the one thing the two of you disagreed on the most. The canon stuff. Your sister had to die for it. That’s why Max had become what he had become. That’s why you had left the society, left him in the first place.

Restarting all of this. Thinking you could forgive.

But there was no way you could’ve ever forgotten.

You had to stand by and watch your sister die because it was a part of canon. Because Miguel cared for you and your world so much that he did not want to see it unravel like his did. A part of you wanted to believe that—maybe there was a small part that did—but that didn’t change the grief nor the terror. You just hoped.

Hoped. And hoped. And hoped….

Eventually, you did some research for yourself. Apparently, this Miles guy hadn’t lost his parents but his uncle. Apparently, he was supposed to lose his dad once he became captain. There was nothing you could do about it if it was supposed to happen. You certainly couldn’t tell him that was going to happen.

You couldn’t do anything….

Until you could.

Hobie appeared in the middle of your living room that night.

“I quit that place.” He shrugged, flopping down onto the couch next to you. “But I suggest you suit up, yeah?”

“Why?” You furrowed your brows, placing down your book you had been reading until he unexpectedly arrived.

“Because I ‘ave a good feelin’ you are the only person that wouldn’t like what’s about to happen. What’s currently happening.”

This time you frowned, an aching feeling tugging at your chest.

“Hobie. What’s going on?”

It wasn’t long until you were flying through the HQ, following all of the spider people as they chased after one thing. One person.

Nobody had known you were there. Nor what you were there for. You had blended into the crowd of spider people, flying around, swinging around until you spotted a blip of the boy that they were chasing. And you saw Miguel, Gwen, and Jessica going after him.

All that you knew was that he was alone. The boy was alone. He needed at least one person at his side. One person who understood what he was going through right then.

By the time you had gotten to the speeding trains, Miguel had Miles pinned down to the top of the train. He had yet to see you. But there was no doubt he would sense you. There was no doubt that he would see your flashing figure, zipping toward him. There was no doubt that in the corner of his eye, he would see you flying at him with a kick and landing it just perfectly, and in time before he could prepare to block you.

Now you stood in front of Miles as Miguel rolled away before clawing his hand into the top of the train to keep him on it.

You removed your mask and grinned, “Too slow, O’Hara!”

“Y/N!” Gwen stared at you in shock.

“Who’s that?!” One Spider-Man with a pink robe—and a baby—attached to him questioned in confusion.

Miguel crawled to his feet. In the corner of your eye Miles jumped off the train and disappeared in seconds. “What have you done?!”

You shrugged, “Nothing yet. That depends on you.”

“Y/N, don’t!” Jessica shouted. “You can’t beat him!”

Miguel’s face was twisted into a scowl, mixed with both betrayal and anger, “She’s right, Domino. You can’t win. You’re on the wrong side!”

You pulled your mask back on and melted into a fighting stance, “I don’t have to win. I just have to give the kid more time.”

For a brief second, the scowl was gone. This look was only for you to see. The same look he wore when you first quit the society.

They were back to where it all began. This was the cycle. It was bound to happen. You knew this. He knew this.

“I don’t want to fight you.” He gritted out. “Stand down, Domino. I’ll only ask this once.”

Not once did you budge.

“I hope we come back from this, Miguel.”

You dashed forward.

Miguel let out a roar of anger and dashed toward you.

The two of you would meet in the middle. And for a second, you really wondered…

Would you?

Would you come back from this?

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara one shot #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara across the spider-verse #spiderman atsv #marvel #hobie brown #jessica drew #gwen stacy #miles morales

7K notes · View notes

almostempty · 29 days

Text

Kick and Scream

Self Esteem Part 3

Pairing: fuckboy!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel catches you on a date and communicates how he feels about it (the only way he knows how).

Warnings: fuckboy!Joel, dub con, smut, pwp, unprotected piv sex, fingering, creampie, dirty talk, public sex, blow job, reader is still sippin' on some dumb bitch juice for Joel (me), jealous!joel, possessive!joel, emotionally manipulative but sexually proficient Joel, toxic breadcrumbing Joel fucks, smash and dash, no use of y/n, AU no outbreak, special guest appearance by date night dave, OOC Dave bc I don’t know that man so I made him single, rich, hot, and pervy idc idc idc, more i might be forgetting rn,

Notes: please leave feedback! open to constructive criticism or delusional inspiration

Thanks: to EVERYONE who read part 1 and 2, but ESPECIALLY @auteurdelabre for inspiring, I hope you enjoy it bb. I'll try to tag those who specifically asked for more brb, and @strangergraphics

WC: 9.3K (idk it got long and horny heheh)

AO3: HERE

Part 1: Self Esteem

Part 2: Want You Bad

Masterlist: Here

You stare down at the hand that just landed on your thigh, cocking your head in assessment. You can feel the scowl tugging at the corners of your mouth. As you work out what expression you should paste onto your face instead, the man sitting next to you seems unbothered. Maybe even encouraged? He continues his lecture about the benefits of indoor rock climbing. You sigh, staring across the park as he continues without pausing to breathe.

You watch the couples milling around the park, wondering if that’s what you look like with this guy's hand on your leg. You stare back down at it, his long fingers shifting slightly as he continues his animated speech. Sweat beads at the back of your neck, and you feel fidgety. Trapped under the weight of his limp hand. He doesn’t seem to notice when you squirm and readjust. He’s circled back to his earlier lecture about how you just have to learn to play an instrument. If he’d let you get a word in, you could verify that you already do, but he seems to prefer the sound of his own voice.

This guy should get a podcast. The kind where a guy with a microphone talks to himself for three hours about whatever he wants. He’d crush it. You laugh to yourself, unintentionally encouraging him with your smile. He’s not not good-looking. But you’d prefer someone interested in asking you at least one question.

You stifle a laugh at the intrusive thought of taking him home and stripping his clothes off while he prattles on about amateur bird-watching, sorry–birding, or unicycling.

Eventually, you extricate yourself from the disappointing date, accept an awkward hug, and turn down dinner. You haven’t left the parking lot yet when your phone buzzes.

Unsaved number: had a great time with u

Unsaved number: would love to see u again :)

It’s not that your skin crawls, but it is a full-body no.

You: thanks, I’m glad I got to know you more

It’s not technically a lie. You’re glad you learned he’s not a fit for you. You feel okay about leaving it at that for now. You watch the sunset from your parking spot. The park is filled with couples laying on blankets being romantic. You roll your eyes at them and then at yourself for being bitter. Your phone buzzes again, and you wince, hoping it’s not your long-winded date again. It’s not.

Joel: what you doing?

Fucking Miller. You scoff aloud in the private space of your front seat. By now, he should be on your blocked list, but the quick hit of euphoria that floods through your bloodstream, warming your cheeks, keeps you hooked. He’s a filthy drug that blinds you from logic or survival instincts. Your eyes dart to the pedestrians in the parking lot. Worried. As if the milling strangers know what you’re up to and are about to shame you. A little voice reminds you that if you feel guilty about something, you shouldn’t be doing it. You ignore that voice. Nobody in the parking lot catches on, coast clear, and you let yourself grin wide as a fool when you type your response.

Later that night, you’re grinning again. Sprawled across your couch, sweaty skin plastered to the faux leather cushions. Sated. Bought and sold on your own lie, you tell the little voice that you didn’t want Joel to stay anyway. You convince yourself some form of compromise is happening, however twisted, when he shows up and leaves you wrecked. He comes to you. You don’t have to get to know each other to make each other feel good. Whatever puts you at ease.

Sometimes it works. Some days, you feel hollow and anxious. Obsessively tapping your phone to see if he’s responded when you reach out first. Pacing around your home, stressing over whether you should stay up just in case and even in bed, you can’t help but stay alert for a knock at the door.

The cycle leaves you with dark circles under your eyes most days. But, on the mornings after Joel shows up, you have a bright twinkle in your eyes and a knowing smirk that greets you in the bathroom mirror. Katie noticed the smirk one day and called you out. She demanded an explanation for the mystery dick fairy.

You wouldn’t admit his identity to her, afraid of getting too involved with someone in her boyfriend's network. But you did admit to the toxic cycle, and your friend was not as amused as you when you tried to pass it off as a joke. She tried to convince you to look for someone to date, but you argued that wasn’t what you wanted anyway. She suggested at least someone who could commit to a plan or send a text back. You knew it didn’t sound great out loud.

As the days of summer crawl along, you wonder if she’s right. At least, it was worth considering. It’s a feeble attempt to smother your spiraling thoughts about Joel. Still, when you start getting messages from the dating app Katie chose for you, it gives you something to interrupt your racing thoughts. At first. Somehow, it starts to feel even worse. Ignoring the sinking feeling you get when it isn’t Joel’s name in your notifications gets more challenging.

You had accepted that it was a lost cause to plan anything with him, but you still can’t find the self-respect to turn him away when he shows up at your door. Sometimes, he sends you a grammatically inconsiderate text. You wonder if he somehow has a cell phone plan that still charges him by the message with the way he uses as few words as possible.

He never stays. Never invites you to his. He evades any predictable behavior. Maybe he’s worried someone ordered a hit on him. Maybe that’s all it is, you muse. Not a contracted kill. The unpredictability. Chaos. That’s what makes him addictive. The brightness of the highs makes you temporarily forget the darkest lows exist. That, and the dirty little thoughts that pour from his mouth and drip into your psyche. That stupid, sexy voice burning into your memory, yeah, that’s definitely addictive. You snort at that. I am unwell, you think. As you pick up your phone again, you see a message from someone new.

\\\///

Heat radiates off your face as you fling another shirt across the room. You’ve tried on the same three outfits over and over again. Ripping them over your head and tossing them into the pile of laundry purgatory. Maybe sweating and mouth-breathing is a turn-on for your date; if so, you’re gonna nail the first impression. You sigh and commit to option two: the little black dress. A classic, right?

“Shit,” you curse at yourself when you stumble while attempting to pull your shoes on as you walk down the hall. This is what you get for agreeing to a late evening date on a weeknight; you feel like a mess. Scrambling to play it cool and classy, you pause to recalibrate before opening the door. What was his name? You can’t remember. He didn’t look like your usual type, but Katie had convinced you to branch out a little. More specifically, she told you it was a green flag already if he wasn’t your type.

You swing the door open, hoping he introduces himself first. He looks expensive. The dark-washed denim, the boots, the jacket, and the watch. Like he walked out of an ad campaign for a brand out of your budget. Dave. He does introduce himself, thankfully. He’s more clean-cut than your usual type, but he speaks confidently and gives off an air of put-togetherness that intrigues you. His voice definitely stirs the butterflies in your stomach.

Oh. You realize you’ve definitely been busy staring at him and have no idea what he actually said with his sultry bedroom voice. Your eyes widen a little. You don’t wanna fuck this up and embarrass yourself. Luckily, he seems unbothered. He tilts his head with a seductive half-smile. He’s enjoying the way you assess him. That definitely does it for you. Stupid, smug men making you weak in the knees.

“You ready?” he asks, voice all smoky for no good reason.

“Yeah,” you manage to say as you recall how to speak and act human. Until you see his luxury car waiting for you. He clocks your beat of hesitance.

“Good.”

His authoritative voice flips the right switch in you, and you let him lead. When he opens the door for you, it’s like the final component of his spell. You are bewitched. Under a thick veil, you didn’t even notice the truck that rolled by as you sank into the leather seat. You didn’t notice when the truck pulled over up the block, idling noisily on the quiet street. No, you were busy, focused on manually breathing and taking in what you’d describe as the interior of a spaceship.

The good news is that Dave is charming. He is easy to talk to as he drives. Flirty and quick-witted. He asks you questions and pauses to consider your responses. You aren’t sure you have much in common, but you like his self-assured demeanor.

When you walk into the club he’s brought you to, you hesitate once again, feeling underdressed. The club is split with a lounge on one side of the bar–full of intimate booths and plush chairs surrounding tiny tables and trendy mood lighting. Kind of like a swanky hotel lobby, you decide. On the other side of the bar is a dance floor, dimly lit with loud music blasting. Women in bodycon dresses and heels fill the room. You feel plain in comparison.

“I didn’t know there was a dress code,” you mutter.

“There isn’t,” Dave asserts, “besides, you look good in this.” He accentuates his statement by running his hand down your spine. It settles some of your nerves and lights up others. He ushers you, hand on your lower back, towards a small booth. And as you settle in, he’s undeniably charismatic. Dave doesn’t reveal much about himself but keeps you laughing and seems genuinely interested in you.

Despite the loud music and people noise, it’s easy to feel like the room is only for you and him. You sip your drink and warm up to his affection. You’re quick to smile, and despite how serious he seems, he has a playful edge that has you on your toes.

You can taste the chemistry between you, bright and sparkling. He spurs your confidence with his dark eyes when he not so subtly lets his gaze linger on your body. You stop shying away from attention and try to bask in it instead. It boosts your ego and stirs up your desire.

When you let yourself look, really look, you decide Dave is handsome. His strong features, broad shoulders, and impeccable grooming work for him. He seems meticulous but not too uptight to have fun. A dark sense of humor flirts behind his twinkling dark eyes. You decide to let him know that you’ve determined he is a handsome man. He gives you a look. Like he already knew you thought that. Your cheeks warm slightly at that. Were you obvious?

It’s not until he peels away from you to refill your drinks that you notice how close you have been sitting. You mourn the loss of his body heat as he walks away. You had low expectations after your last few dates, but tonight, this feels different. Your eyes trail along his path to the bar, and you lazily rest your chin in your palm before your breath hitches, and you freeze.

You feel like you’ve swallowed a bowling ball. It’s lodged in your throat first, then constricting your chest, until finally, it sinks. A heavy, solid weight flipping your stomach. You’re locked on a different set of dark eyes. They’re glowering at you through lowered brows from across the room. Seated at the same bar where Dave ordered your drinks.

Joel stares at you over his drink. He downs the glass without taking his eyes off of you. One quirked brow, asking really?

Really what? Is he judging you? For what, being on a date?

Another glass replaces his empty tumbler, but he doesn’t acknowledge the bartender or the rest of the world.

This fucking guy.

The bowling ball in your gut mutates into something fiery. But, you have nothing to be guilty about. It’s not your fault he’s alone, bitter, and drinking at a bar full of people having more fun than him. In fact, you could say it’s his fault that you’re both here.

A scowl forms on Joel’s face when Dave slides back into the booth beside you. Good. You hope he suffers. You hope he sees how easy it is for someone to treat you well. And how happy you look.

You don’t hesitate to lean your body against Dave, giving in to your urges. You squeeze his arm when he makes you laugh, and your touch lingers. He preens under your admiration when you comment on his firm biceps. He is quick to match your advances. Finding excuses to brush your hair behind your ear and settling a heavy palm on your knee. His hand creeps a little higher up your thigh but doesn’t graze the hem of your dress. Respectful. That’s different.

You don’t need to look again to feel Joel’s eyes burning into you. It incites you that he has the audacity. The gall to make faces at you for showing up on a date. You decide you’ll give Joel something to scowl about, feeling emboldened by your date’s touch.

You slide Dave’s hand further up your leg, letting go when he gets the idea. You reach for your drink, feigning nonchalance, but your breath catches, and your hand trembles when he traces his fingertips around the crease of your thigh. He skirts beneath the hem of your underwear, drawing lines over your hip and back towards your center.

The soft touch tickles deliciously, and you feel the anticipation building in your core. He watches your expression, hawklike, noting the tiniest details in the features of your face. He notes when your breath stutters or your eyelids flutter softly.

“This what you wanted?” he husks, still watching intently. Yes, yes, yes!

“Almost,” you toy. Something about having both men’s eyes on you has your skin itching with desire and your blood running hot.

Dave scoffs softly, repeating your word choice and shaking his head. Almost.

“You looking for more?” he taunts as he wedges his large hand fully between your legs to cup and tease your cunt.

You can’t help the breathlessness of the yes that slips out of you. You roll into his palm, and your mouth parts at the friction and his boldness. He smiles wolfishly, flashing his teeth, when he feels you twist and rock against him. His look encourages you. And you tilt your hips and shift your legs to give him better access.

“Dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he asks, still locked on your face. You swell at this. His eyes lower to your glossy lips before he sips casually from his drink, so composed.

Your cheeks warm at his words, but he has his answer when he slips a finger beneath the damp lace between your legs and drags it through the pool of arousal gathering at your entrance. Your lips part at the contact, chest heaving, and you give him a nod and coy smile in response to his question. You’ll be his dirty little thing tonight.

“That’s good,” he declares, pressing a kiss just below your ear before adding, “I’d like to do dirty things to you.”

His husky voice and declaration stir an urgent need to be touched within you. He continues to agitate your nerves as his hand massages over your swollen sex. Your skin feels tight and prickly, tensing, ready to feel more. You’re unconcerned with the debased nature of being fingered in public.

When your eyes are instinctually drawn back towards Joel, you shudder. You can feel the twitching of your clit as your cunt floods over Dave’s fingers. The depravity that another man’s glare eases the slip of your date’s teasing touch is not lost on you. Instead, it turns you on even more. Joel’s homicidal stare has you squirming. You’ve seen darkness in his eyes before, but not like this. There’s no twinkle of mocking, and it’s not cruel in a hot way. If looks could kill, then this room would look like the club scene from Blade.

Dave murmurs something filthy in your ear that makes you gasp. Your hand flies to his thigh, gripping tightly to keep you from melting onto the floor.

“Don’t be shy, dirty girl,” he croons darkly, “you can touch.”

“Fuck,” you groan under your breath when you move your hand to find his hard cock straining against his well-fitted jeans.

He chuckles lowly at the way your eyes widen in response before he plunges two fingers inside of you, and you stifle a throaty sound. Your mind still wanders to Joel, and you wonder if he can see your perverse display below the table. Judging by his clenched fists on the bar, you’d say whatever he can see is enough to fill in the blanks. The sick part of you that feels more turned on by his agony expands within you.

“Oh god,” you whisper as you suck in air.

Dave works his fingers lazily into you. You feel intoxicated by the attention of both men. A concern flashes through you that someone else in the club could catch on or see more than you’d like to show. But a feeling in your gut tells you that it doesn’t matter. Dave seems strikingly confident with a lethal attention to detail. And the ferocity on Joel’s face only eggs you on.

When you think of humbling Joel, a sinister smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. He’s the one that unleashed the horny, risk-taking monster within you and then disappeared. Fuck moping about him. You’re getting yours, you decide.

You shoot Joel a wink. Pouring gasoline on the fire, hoping it pisses him off.

You lean into the salaciously tempting energy radiating off of Dave. Reaching to hold his jaw as your lips lock and you let him control your mouth. Kissing him riles you up more. You palm at his erection over his jeans, delighting in the noises that roil deep in his chest. You hold back whimpers as the pressure of his fingers curling inside of you finds the perfect spot.

He pulls back from your kiss and looks down to watch your hand groping at him. You like watching him watch you.

“You gonna take it out?” Oh. Fuck, you want to. It feels like more of a risk than you’ve taken so far.

“Here?” you ask him softly.

A wrinkle appears between your brows. Dave watches your swollen lips again just as your pink tongue darts out to wet them. He raises a brow at you, eyes dropping to where his arm disappears under your dress.

“Oh, are you feeling bashful now?” he goads. His fingers curl against that sensitive spot inside of you as his palm presses firmly into your swollen clit. He makes it hard for you to answer. You try to pout at him, but the reflexive rise in your brows at the pleasure betrays you. He chuckles again. “No? Just distracted, hm?”

“Fuck,” is all you can mouth. It is distracting. Not the fingers inside you, well, not completely, but the urge. The craving to leverage your lewd new lover’s lack of regard for appropriate behavior into emotional revenge. The thought of Joel growing mad with jealousy as he watches you come overtakes your critical thinking.

Eat your heart out, Joel Miller! You dare him across the room, letting your jaw fall slack and your brows knit in obvious pleasure.

“Are you going to come for me?” Dave asks, “Here in this booth? Where anyone could see?” he tuts like he’s disappointed, and it works. The danger of it all does something to heighten your senses. It’s blinding. The bass from the music blaring from the dance floor rattling in your ribs, Dave’s designer cologne filling your nose, the sheen of sweat collecting on your chest, and the daggers in Joel’s eyes when you glance to confirm he’s still watching. All the sensations clash and shove you towards your release.

“Yes,” you hiss quietly, “yes.” Your eyes slam shut as you try to remain composed while riding his fingers under the table. You flicker in and out of reality as your climax rolls through you. You’re drunk on the reversal of power when your eyes peel open, and you see the hardened expression on Joel’s face glowering at you. You wonder if his dick is just as hard in his pants, and the thought has you contracting again around Dave’s fingers.

“That’s a good girl.” Dave’s voice is somehow even deeper. It sends another ripple of pleasure to swirl low in your abdomen. You’d like to hear that again.

With a touch more clarity after the violent edge of your arousal is dulled, your hand works at his belt, desperate to feel the heat of his cock in your palm. He assists, lifting his hips when you unbuckle his belt and pop the button on his pants so you can slide your hand beneath his underwear. His tension and urgency further stoke your power trip, and you feel overcome with the need to know how badly he wants you. When you wrap your fingers around him, hear the groan he makes, and feel the mindless buck of his hips, you have a more than good enough answer. He’s yours.

Dave watches the way your eyes glaze over when your thumb smears the precome dripping from his head down his length. His hand stills distractedly between your legs, and his chin drops as he watches where your hand disappears under his dark boxer briefs. You’re constricted by the elastic waistband, but your grip is tight. Almost as tight as when he fucks his own fist. He’s mesmerized by the way you jerk his cock just right.

You feel yourself salivating with the need to taste him. You’re getting frustrated with the limited space and want to see him in your hand. You sigh, wishing you could, until you realize you can, and grin.

You pull your hand back out of his pants, and he snaps out of his stupor. Before he can comment, you cut him off.

“Keep your pants on and take me to the bathroom so I can suck your cock right.”

Your voice comes out lower than you thought it would. His eyes flare before he matches your devious look and obeys, spewing filthy thoughts you can’t make out under his breath as he does. He’s ushering you down the hall in seconds, and then you’re locking the door and dropping to your knees. Dave doesn’t wait a second longer, wrenching his belt open and dropping his jeans just enough for his cock to spring free.

You don’t tease or start slow. He admires how you waste no time like you’re desperate to taste him. And you are. Only pausing for a moment to admire the way he looks, stiff and leaking for you, before you eagerly wrap your lips around him. You slide your tongue everywhere and bob up and down with vigor. Salty and vaguely sweet, precome teases your palette. You want more. The best you can do to express that is swallow around him and suck until he’s moaning and cursing above you.

You let your saliva pool and spill from your lips so you can slide your hand down the rest of his length while you revel at the weight of him on your tongue. You find the moves that have his fists clenching and thighs straining and repeat them. You hum around him as pride blooms in your chest over how his composure cracks.

You wonder if Joel has smashed through the bar with his fists yet. At least he didn’t break down the bathroom door before you could get on your knees. Would he strangle Dave first if he saw the two of you? Or would he drag you home and gag you on his angry cock instead? You moan obscenely as your imagination runs wild. You look up at Dave. He watches you with fierce eyes. You wouldn’t mind if they shared you, you consider, but that would take a miracle.

You continue messily and enthusiastically until your knees ache, and you decide he has to come for you. You try to beg for it while he’s still in your mouth before you have the brains to pull off of him and tell him what you want. He’s endeared by your unrefined hedonism.

He grips your jaw in his palm when you get the words out.

“You want to swallow my come?” he asks.

“Yes,” you plead impatiently on your knees with a hoarse voice. You’re a pornographic sight on the tile floor with your wet lashes, swollen lips, and saliva glistening on your chin. You open your mouth for him and hold out your tongue.

“Oh,” he strokes his thumb along your cheek, smiling down at you, “that’s a good girl.”

Your eyes close at that, feeling the praise warm your skin before he slides back into your wet mouth.

Guiding you faster and a little rougher, Dave doesn’t take long to come. Spilling onto your tongue as you groan around him until he stops pulsing in your mouth. You swallow, glowing for him with glassy eyes. He helps you to stand before tucking his softening cock back into his jeans and fastening his belt. You’re adjusting your dress and reaching for your bag on the counter.

“What do you need?” He asks a little softer than you expected, causing you to pause.

“Take me home,” you smile at him dopily before pausing and wincing at yourself in the mirror. You look like a freshly face-fucked mess.

“Uh, actually, give me a few minutes to freshen up first, and I’ll meet you out front?”

He nods, “I’ll pull the car up.”

“I’d like that.” You reply and lock the door behind him after he slips out.

Once you feel more presentable, you pull your phone from your bag and tap the screen to check the time before opening the door.

Seeing Joel’s name makes your stomach flip. You open the text.

Joel: Miss me?

It snaps something in you. Something that enrages you. He has to be certifiably insane, you think. It came through a little while ago, but you aren’t sure how long you’ve been in the bathroom. You begin to spiral, debating if you should march to the bar and throw a drink in his face or pretend like he doesn’t even exist. You feel your face burning hot, and the bathroom is suddenly suffocating. You need some air before you get into the car with Dave. Just long enough to breathe normally and look less like you want to break something.

Leaving the bathroom you find an employee exit further down the hall. A faded sign on the door warns that an alarm will sound, but the rock wedged in the door jam holding it open a crack begs to differ, and you slip into the dark.

A lanky, pale kid in a black apron sits atop a picnic table in the alley.

“Oh, sorry,” you feel a little guilty interrupting his break, “just wanted some air.”

“All good,” he responds before sliding off the makeshift seating. “Last call for the kitchen anyway. Have my seat,” he waves at the table like he’s offering a throne. You accept. Exceedingly grateful to have the air and the privacy to regulate. Just some slow, deep breaths. Then, you can walk out the front door and let Dave take you home.

The door swings open again, and you tense, ready to hop off the table and find another space.

“Sorry,” you start your apology, but it’s cut off.

“You should be,” Joel accuses harshly. He’s in your space with two of his long strides. Rushing at you like you’re caught in a snare trap, and he’s starving. You briefly look the part with your eyes wide in the moonlight, shocked by his sudden appearance, until your barely dampened rage rips from your throat.

“Joel, what the fuck?” you spit out in disbelief, but he interrupts you–

“I thought I already told you what happens if you’re gonna be a filthy tease?” his voice lowers as he ignores your question and paces in front of you with a dark, wicked stare.

“What are you doing here?” you press, ignoring his threat.

“What are you doing here?” he demands. Like he has some certificate of entitlement to your whereabouts. He towers over you. Your eyes narrow to slits. If you could shoot lasers out of them, you’d do it now.

You laugh. Loudly. You’re still laughing when he grabs you and pivots your frame so your legs dangle off of the end of the table towards him. Closer. He gets even closer, standing between your knees. You tilt your face to look up at him.

“You on a date?” it’s a growl carved from stone. You choose to remain ignorant to the shiver it sends through you that has nothing to do with the temperature. How dare he charge up on you like a territorial werewolf in the night? And how dare he look so fucking good with that snarly expression? No. You laugh again. Wild-eyed. Words start coming up before you even hear yourself.

“What is wrong with you, Joel? Why were you watching me? You looking for a show?” you jab. Gnashing at him with your words. He snorts dismissively at you, and a barbaric smile creeps onto his face. Like he’s in on some joke you don’t know about. He irks you so bad your skin crawls.

“S’that what you call it?” he asks, “A show?” Continuing to ignore your other questions. He is so close to you that it burns your skin.

“No, Joel. You were right the first time. I am on a date. A real date. You know what that is, right? Like, he asked me out, picked me up on time, bought me a drink,” you’re tallying on your fingers, “answered my–”

“And then what, you fuck him in the bathroom and hide out here? Alone in the alley?”

It clicks. He knows exactly why you’re flustered. The asshole must’ve sent his text for his own slimy experiment. Trying to rattle you. What fucking game is he playing? Is he trying to win you? Like you’re Dave’s possession to lose?

You scoff at his interjection, “No, Joel, I’m not alone. You followed me out here to make sure of it, right?”

“Right,” he rumbles. His dark eyes glint even in the shadows of the alley. He leans lower and closer to you until you tip back, palms on the table behind you, then elbows. Exposing your cleavage to the moonlight. He pauses, eyes raking down your face, neck, and chest. How does he make you feel raw and vulnerable even when fully dressed?

“You haven’t answered me,” you huff. Irritated and arched beneath him.

“I asked you first,” he argues. A childish rebuttal for a grown man. You’re pretty sure you’ve asked why he’s here a hundred times, but of course, that doesn’t matter. He’s insufferable with his attitude and inability to communicate. Everything about you is taut, and you feel frayed.

Joel dips his head and his lips brush your ear, tickling you, before he rasps, “I asked if you miss me, baby, and you haven’t answered.”

A tremor runs through your body.

It’s criminal. Your mind converts his voice directly into a hot coil of arousal. The throbbing between your legs causes you to wriggle beneath him.

“I need to know,” he croons, begging you to give in.

His arm slides under your back, lowering you onto the table. Your restraint collapses terribly quickly for him. His voice. His touch. He knows all of your buttons.

Laid on your back, your legs instinctively wrap around him as he bends to meet you.

Soft puffs of air shakily flow between your lips as you struggle to concentrate. On what? You aren’t sure. Not good. You squeeze your eyes shut like maybe he’ll disappear.

“I mean it, baby,” he continues purring with a sharp edge, “you tell me when you miss me.”

You know it wouldn’t matter even if you did. If you texted him. If you called. It wouldn’t matter. It would probably make you feel worse. But when he says it, you feel your heart doing flips anyway.

He slides his hands over your body, and you feel the last of your logic escaping as you tug him towards you. You’re grinding against him stupidly without a single thought. Just having him this close to you had you feeling desperate and needy. You could come again right now just by dry-humping like horny teenagers.

The craving for him is so intense that you’ll surely die if he doesn’t keep moving. You lose any shred of composure that you were still clinging to and let out a needy whine for him. And when your fingers twist and tug at his shirt, it’s like a green light to Joel.

He closes any and all gaps between you. His hand skates roughly under your dress, bunching up the fabric. He presses open-mouthed kisses against your neck and grazes his teeth enticingly along your jaw.

Groping, grinding, grunting. All his movements dance a line between deliberate and frantic.

You have tunnel vision, lost from time and space. When his low moan vibrates through you, your hand shoots to his belt. He rasps into your ear again, “That’s it, baby, I’m right here if you miss me, don’t need some jerkoff tryin’ to waste your time.” Your fingers fumble. What– “Oh, shit!” a voice yells. You freeze. “Don’t mind me!” The drunk guy slurs as he stumbles out the backdoor and sways down the alley towards the street.

Your situation hits you like a bucket of cold water. Joel seems unfazed, still curled over you. You push at him and sit up.

“What did you just say, Joel?”

“Hmm?” he murmurs at you.

“Joel, I’m serious. What the fuck?”

He’s not listening. His hands are still searching your body. The scent of his faded deodorant is so familiar in your nose. The words are coming up again. Before he casts his trance on you.

“No. I said I’m serious,” you repeat, “I’m not playing your games. Done with your weird shit.” Your body feels rigid, and your mind is clearing through the fog of lust. “Just because I have no self-esteem and I fuck you anytime you show up on my doorstep doesn’t mean you have any claim to me.”

He blinks at you, finally registering your tone, expression shifting. “I actually tried, you know? I wanted to get to know you. You just bail. I keep suffering for it. Like an idiot. I keep thinking it would show I care.”

“Baby–”

“And now what? You see me on a date and decide it would be fun to ruin it? Ruin a chance at something better than waiting around wondering if you’ll show up looking to score?” You’re on your feet now. Livid. Ablaze in the dark. “No, you don’t even care enough to think about that,” you realize aloud.

His features harden. Your head shakes slowly, exasperated with your burgeoning understanding. All you can hear is the white noise buzzing in your skull. Your next words are quieter and lower, forcing him to pay close attention.

“You just wanted to prove something, right? Thought you’d fuck me on this table and run like you always do? For what, to prove you could?”

His nostrils flare, and you don’t miss how he grits his teeth.

You don’t falter; he doesn’t scare you. You press on with your accusations prickly on your tongue. You back him against the wall next to the door as you continue.

“You don’t like hearing it?” you cock your head at him, amused with his discomfort. “Were you going to leave me here in the alley full of your come like I’m some pathetic whore for you? Would you walk me back to my date after that? Was that your plan?”

Joel snaps, manhandling you in a split second. Pinned against the brick wall, you can hear your heart pounding. It’s a paper-thin line between anger and lust, and you can’t tell which has your blood pumping. You can’t tell if he’s about to yell at you or fuck you. You hate that you can’t tell which you’d prefer.

His eyes are locked onto yours. Not revealing anything. You shift, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. He doesn’t keep you waiting. Joel shoves his hand into your panties, fingers slipping immediately into the fresh pool of arousal between your thighs. A shaky exhale comes out of you, but he doesn’t seem to need to blink or breathe anymore.

He brings his glossy fingers to your mouth. Silent. He taps at your lip until you open and suck, tasting yourself. His mask slips a little. One brow twitches as he studies the scene of your lips wrapped around both of his fingers. But his eyes flick to yours when he pulls them out of your mouth and drags them down your bottom lip, smearing spit against your chin.

“Tell me,” he says in a whisper that scrapes across your skin, “does it taste like you miss me?”

You swallow tightly. A lump forms in your throat now, about as large as a civilization-ending asteroid.

You can hear your phone buzzing. Forgotten on the table. Panic streaks over your eyes as you wonder how long you’ve been out here. You duck under his arm, dashing for your phone. You don’t look at him. You can’t. As you sprint down the hallway, you swing the door open, kicking the rock in the door jam, hopefully locking Joel outside. Cursing at yourself for almost letting Joel fuck you in the alley across from a dumpster.

Dave sits in his car, idling along the curb near the front of the club. You’re surprised he didn’t leave. You hope it hasn’t been long. You don’t dare check your phone. Maybe it was only a few minutes, or it could have been an hour. You don’t think time functions normally when you’re around Joel.

Dave is frighteningly observant, slinking out of his car to open the door for you before you get close enough to reach for the handle.

“I was just starting to wonder if you’d snuck out the back door,” he chides.

You feel the blood rushing to the surface of your skin. Hot with embarrassment over your behavior and his on-the-nose word choice.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I did step out for some air. Wanted to cool down.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he assures you, tilting your chin towards his face with his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes dart around his face, wondering what he sees on yours. “Was it too much, dirty girl?” he coos.

“What, this?” you lilt mockingly as you palm over his bulge, “I don’t think so.”

“Good,” he snorts softly. “Get in the car.” He adds as he opens the door for you.

He pauses before pulling away from the curb once seated in the driver’s side.

“Is your boyfriend going to be following us home?”

“My what?” you feel the blood drain from your face.

“The one from the bar,” he continues, measured and eerily calm, “the one who followed us here?” Your head starts spinning at that, but Dave carries on, unbothered. “I assumed he likes to watch. You should’ve told me. It would’ve been easier than wondering if he’s a deranged stalker or–”

“No.” You cut him off and struggle to continue for multiple reasons. “It’s not like that. I thought it was a coincidence,” you feel a confusing mix of emotions.

“Followed us?” you’re curious.

“When I picked you up. In the truck?”

“Oh god. No. He’s,” you pause, searching for the right words.

“An ex?”

“Not even that. Jesus Christ, I can’t believe he’d follow me.”

“So he is dangerous?”

“No.” Only to my self-respect.

“You want me to take care of him?”

“No.” You reply before putting any thought behind what that means. “No. He’s just an asshole with a staring problem.”

You withdraw. You hadn’t thought about why Joel was here. How ridiculous it sounds to imagine Joel voluntarily sitting at the bar in a club like this alone. You feel the blood rushing to your ears. Stupid little butterflies flap their wings in your stomach before they’re reduced to ashes, and you begin to see red again tonight. How is Joel ruining your night without saying a word this time?

“Take me home,” you say firmly.

He does. Dave walks you to your door. You invite him in, but he’s observant, noticing the clouds in your expression. He declines your invite but assures you he would be very interested in seeing you again. He gives you a chaste kiss that makes you laugh, considering how bold you both have been tonight. It lightens your mood.

He lingers for a moment before he pulls out his wallet.

“It was on the house this time,” you snark. Curious about what he’s doing.

He hands you a sleek business card. A business card? Is this guy Patrick Bateman?

Your face wrinkles in confusion.

“I already have your number,” you flip the card over in case you’re missing something. It doesn’t say anything, just has a phone number.

“I meant what I said, that I’d be interested in seeing you again for pleasure,” he smirks, “but if you change your mind, at least keep this.”

You don’t understand why you’d need his work phone number but try to play it cool and nod.

“If your stalker becomes a problem, you call me.”

You’re still confused about what that means when he drives away. As you shut your door, you realize you have no idea what he does.

You’re still in the middle of composing a text to Katie about how her green flag date included a bathroom blowjob and a business card when you hear a knock at your door. You swing it open, assuming foolishly that it would be Dave.

Before you can blink, Joel kicks the door shut and backs you down the hallway. He looks like a man possessed as he hurtles towards you. It sends a chill down your spine that you think would trigger your fight or flight response, but yours seems to be reprogrammed to fight or fuck. Staggering backward, you yelp when the backs of your knees hit your mattress.

“Can I fucking help you?” you snap at him as you realign with reality. “Jesus Christ, Joel, were you waiting outside the window or something?”

You glare into his eyes, but a toxic part of you only wants to focus on his lips. And how close they are to yours. You also can’t deny the even more debauched part of you that flutters at the possessive look in Joel’s eyes.

He laughs darkly, “Nah baby, I knew you’d send him on his way.”

You roll your eyes at that. Cocky bastard.

And he is. He emits a frenzied energy as he takes you in. Looking you up and down like a prize. Like he’s considering where to write his name on your skin.

You roll your shoulders. Trying to shake off the idea that you’d like to be possessed by him, but it thrums persistently inside of you.

“You didn’t know shit, Miller,” you accuse sardonically.

Joel reaches for you. You think he’s going to tell you off. But his hands glide over the tops of your shoulders and up the column of your neck until he’s cupping your jaw in both hands. It feels jarring and vulnerable to be held by him this way. To feel like he just wants to look at you and to know you can’t look away. You wonder what’s going on behind his dark eyes. What he sees when he looks at you What he thinks.

The longer he looks at you, the more the tension builds (of course, because it’s Joel). You start to itch, fingers twitching with the need to grab him and pull his full weight on top of you. Despite your building desire, he’s still quietly reading your face. Joel Miller, the enigma, you muse.

Before you can flip him any shit, his mouth is on yours, and his hands drop to your hips to hold you firmly against his body. You want him to keep holding you there, but closer. You need him even closer.

He groans into your mouth, and you kiss him back hungrily. Your bodies slot together in a twisted fate. You couldn’t care less about the date you just had at this moment. You can hear Joel’s words from previous encounters that have burrowed into your consciousness, and you’re starving for more.

A selfish and greedy satisfaction warms in your chest at him being in your bedroom. He pulls your lower lip between his teeth before breaking away to tease bites along your neck and shoulder. You shiver. Your fingers dig into his shirt, pulling him closer and closer until your knees buckle, and fall into the bed with him on top of you. He doesn’t stop trying to taste you everywhere, trying to feel every part of you. You breathe out single-syllable praise as your thoughts become hazy.

You still feel needy. You writhe and strain as you attempt to work his shirt up his broad frame. You’re insistent on feeling the blistering heat of his skin against yours. He leans back up, out of your grip, causing you to sigh in exasperation. Of course, it couldn’t be this easy. What does he have to say now?

“You want me to leave?”

“What? Why?” you growl out. He is not about to body slam you into a bed and then walk away.

“Thought you were done with my ‘weird shit’ or whatever you called it,” he taunts.

“I am,” you huff.

“Tell me to stop.” You can’t.

“Take your clothes off,” you answer instead.

He does. Then, he’s pulling your clothes off and climbing over you. You aren’t sure you’ve ever both been fully naked like this. Definitely not while in a bed, at least. It’s more intimate than your relationship calls for. It makes time feel syrupy, but your other senses feel sharply tuned. Joel’s breath fans hot over your ear as he tucks his face into the corner of your neck and shoulder.

“So,” he sucks at your delicate skin before continuing in his smoky tone, “your date couldn’t satisfy you?”

“Shut up,” you snarl at him, uninterested in playing games. You’re too lost in the intensity of his physical presence. You need him inside of you, and you tug at his body, trying to pull him closer. It’s useless. His strong arms are braced like two stone pillars on either side of you.

He’s such a pest. His mouth quirks, and he looks all too pleased with himself. You roll your eyes again. You know what he’s getting at. What he wants to hear you say. But, you’re reluctant to stroke his ego. He’s going to be unbearable if. The thorn of it that hurts the most, though, is that it’s not a lie. It’s an admission. A confirmation.

He makes you feel so good in ways nobody else ever could, but the pain of knowing he’ll never be yours eats at you. It feels like exposing your beating heart in your chest to confess you want him so badly. You ache to hear him tell you he only wants you again. Even if it’s not real, you lie to yourself, you just need to hear it.

While you wrestle with finding the words, he begins to torment you. The heat and arousal weigh heavily between your naked bodies. He lowers closer and closer to where you need him most but refuses to alleviate your painful want. Wickedly, he exploits your neediness. Teasing at your skin with his tongue, teeth, and breath.

“Tell me, baby. Just let me hear it,” he says. But you can’t.

When he blows air over your strained nipples, and you arch under him seeking contact, he darts down to kiss at your stomach and inner thighs instead. When he gets closer and closer to the apex of your thighs, grazing his nose over your mound, you could snap.

You reach to dig your fingers into his hair and direct his mouth to your throbbing clit, but he’s stronger than you. Devilish man. He crawls back up to hover over your face. You know he’s enjoying it. Wondering how quickly you’ll break. It makes you want to kick and scream.

“Tell me it’s not true then,” it’s a challenge directed at you, but it feels like he’s also challenging himself.

He drags the head of his cock over the slick lips of your cunt without precision or direction. You are so convinced he’s torturing you, but he looks like he’s in pain from restraining himself as well. It makes you crazy. You try to reach down to line him up with your entrance yourself, but he’s faster. He grabs your hand and pins it above your head.

“Fine,” you grit out. Frustrated. You aim to smother your fear with sarcasm and puff your chest, hoping it works.

“You’re right, Joel. It’s true.” He doesn’t move, waiting to hear more.

“I missed your filthy mouth and your big fat cock.” You mock with an exaggerated whine. You keep going before you lose courage. “And my date couldn’t satisfy me.” You pause, steeling yourself. The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Because even when I had his cock down my throat,” you force yourself to look in his eyes, “all I could think about was you.”

You tried to keep the snarky, biting tone in that last part, but your voice betrayed you when you met his eyes. It came out sounding as vulnerable as it felt to say. His expression flickers. You feel too honest. You should take it back. You want to curl up. He grins above you.

“I know, baby,” he coos. You hold your breath. Of course he’s going to be a condescending ass about it, you start to bemoan internally–but when he finally sinks into you, it shuts off your inner monologue and slows down time. “All I can fuckin’ think about,” he says as he fills you as deeply as possible, letting a satisfied sigh fall from his lips.

All I can fuckin’ think about.

The words rattle around in your mind. Joel begins to rock into you, deliberately grinding his pelvis against you. All he can think about is you, too? Or fucking you? Or how he’s ruined you for other men?

All I can fuckin’ think about.

It echoes in your head as he picks up his pace, splitting you open with heavy, mind-altering thrusts. Suffocatingly intimate. Face to face. Skin to skin. Soul to soul. His voice isn’t just echoing in your mind; he’s also running his mouth about something. Muttering about how he knew you’d be waiting for him, how he’s going to fuck you until you forget your date's name, how nobody else can satisfy your needy cunt.

Oh.

He’s not wrong. You want to hear more.

“Yes,” You can stoke this fire. You don’t mind finding out what happens if you rile him up while he’s inside you. “Only you,” you pant, “nobody else fucks me like you do.”

He makes a throaty noise in agreement and shifts. Large hands wrap around the back of your knees and press them towards your chest, tilting your hips up. You choke and sputter as he slams into you with force. The new angle creates a blissful intensity.

“That’s right,” he says, “nobody else.”

He pounds into you like he could fuck you through the mattress, maybe even through the floor. The lewd sound of his thighs slapping against your ass fill the room. You tuck your chin to your chest to watch the way each thrust makes your breasts bounce. You notice that he’s mesmerized by the same sight, and you take the opportunity to shift your gaze, studying the look on his face.

It’s more sensual than anything you’ve done together before. You can see the sweat beading on his chest from exertion. You’re nearly folded in half and unable to stop your soft cries and moans. It’s raw, sticky, and vulnerable. You feel warmed at the thought but also fragile. Breakable. Hypersensitive emotionally and physically. It’s all too bright and hot.

You let his voice push you over the edge, and your climax rips fiercely through your body. You faintly hear him groan as your tight walls contract around him, but his voice is drowned out by the pleasure. Your legs tremble, still balanced over his shoulders.

Your core muscles spasm as he keeps sawing into you until your hips are jerking at the sensitivity of your come down. He slows, breathing heavily over you. You can see the animalistic edge in his eyes. You have to push it. Play it out.

“Make me yours,” you incite.

You definitely just meant to imply, ‘fuck me hard and come inside me, please,’ but you worry he’s interpreted it differently when he drops your legs. Wrong. He turns you over, laying you flat on your stomach, pulling your arms behind your back, and pinning you to the bed. He straddles your closed legs. Your shoulders strain a little as he leans into you. His heavy body compresses your prone form, and his cock weighs heavy against the curve of your ass; it feels right. A perverted comfort blanket, stealing your breath.

“Repeat it,” he tells the back of your neck.

“Make me yours.” You turn your head to the side. You can’t see his face, but you can hear the string of curses he chants when he lines up and wedges himself into you. The added constriction of your position unravels you both.

“Mine,” he grunts. You muffle your own noises into the sheets, along for the ride. He doesn’t last much longer before you feel him still overtop of you. You close your eyes, focusing on the sensation of the pulsing and throbbing of his cock inside you as he fills you up. Breathing deep, your back rises against his chest before he slides off of you.

You roll onto your side. Facing each other, you still at the sight of him. Another breath shared between you, chests expanding towards each other. For the briefest moment, you think he might stay. You can see the soft edge of relaxation in his features. Your hand drifts toward him, an instinct based on nothing rational, just wanting to feel him. You feel the stupid, dreamy expression settling on your face. Before you can speak or figure out what you were reaching for, he’s snapped out of the bubble of tranquility. His walls are up.

He’s dressed and leaving, walking towards the door as you can only sigh into your dirty sheets.

He doesn’t even leave with a snide last word. Just the door closing.

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kazumist · 3 months

Text

WHY DON'T WE FALL IN LOVE TONIGHT ?

✩ — in which you found yourself executing a ruse with the known duke of meropide, wriothesley. what could possibly go wrong? (many things, apparently.)

✩ — prompt: panache — you agree to a fake courtship with another. (for @xianyoon's "a night to remember" event (event two hehehe))

✩ — includes: wriothesley x f!reader. royalty!au. fluff, angst if you squint, hurt/comfort if you also squint, comedy squeezed in just a teensy bit. cw: alcohol consumption (reader ends up taking a shot or two) one crazy scene in the garden but it's nothing too explicit i swear they just get a little carried away OOPS. wc: 8001 yes you read that fucking right (i went insane). fake dating trope went a bit overboard my bad (heavily based by bridgerton season 1 minus the explicit scenes LMAO). one pride and prejudice and meme reference line sneaked in (if u get my reference then ilysm i need to kiss u). other fontaine characters make a cameo yipee!! full fic of this silly post i made back then but i changed things up. kinda

✩ — please reblog !! it wld help me tons :,)

love at first sight was a frivolous belief for a man like wriothesley.

romance, in general, was a frivolous belief for him in the first place. as much as his father pushes him into the marriage market for all of the women in the kingdom of fontaine, he would always find his way out of it. but he does admit—the nagging could get quite... overbearing sometimes. romance almost never crosses wriothesley’s mind. he shuns every vigorous mother that presents their daughter towards him in hopes that he’ll take an interest in them (which he never does; wriothesley believes that marriage is too big of a responsibility for him).

a ball is never uncommon in society at this age. and certainly it isn’t uncommon for his father to urge him to grace these balls with his presence on behalf of his former duke of a father. and tonight wasn’t so different from the other balls he previously attended. wriothesley holds back the urge to roll his eyes after he excuses himself (for the nth time, he thinks) from another mother who tried to offer her daughter up for his hand in marriage. it was exhausting, to say the least. wriothesley wants nothing more than to leave at the moment. however, to his dismay, the ball had just begun not too long ago.

it’s another long night for him.

sharing some conversations with queen furina’s royal advisor, neuvillette, wasn’t a bad way to pass the time. and it certainly was effective because people were far too nervous to approach him with the queen nearby. the friendship he shared with the royal advisor wasn’t new knowledge to society. almost everyone and their mothers had heard about the tale of the current duke meropide and the queen’s royal advisor being close friends during their early days of childhood and onwards. though wriothesley sometimes admits—he surely misses his youthful days.

it’s not like he's that old now. he’s currently thriving at the young age of twenty-five! not too young, not too old either. “and just how long are you going to stand by my side tonight, wriothesley?” neuvillette asks, his eyes focused on the crowd below him. there were pairs dancing gracefully in the middle of the venue as the quintet orchestra played by the side. wriothesley doesn’t glance at him as he answers. “just a bit longer, i suppose. i could still feel their eyes boring holes into me.” he mumbles the last part, leaning closer only for neuvillette to hear, as he refers to the mothers that attempted to make their advances on him earlier. neuvillette simply chuckles at his remark.

“still refusing marriage, i see?” he replies.

“i’m confident that you’re well aware of what my answer to that is going to be, neuvillette.”

wriothesley feels comfortable like this. but he’s aware that he couldn’t spend all of his time by his friend’s side. soon after, wriothesley decides to take his leave after making sure his coast is clear. he then exited nearby and found himself wandering into the garden. surely, the workers at the house of hearth had done a splendid job maintaining this garden. he reminds himself to commend duke arlecchino for this if he ever gets the chance.

the wind tonight was quite cold, yet it’s nothing wriothesley couldn’t handle. he stumbles upon what seemed to be the center of the garden, surprised to see a fountain there. the moonlight shines brightly in this area—but what actually made wriothesley curious was who was sitting by the fountain? he steadily approaches, careful not to make the wrong move and sits by the fountain as well. there was still some distance between the two of you—a lot of it. it would be indecent of him to burst into a woman’s personal space. his father did not raise him to be that sort of man.

“what brings you here tonight?” he suddenly finds himself asking. it was a poor attempt at small talk, he thinks (he could do much better than that, he swears). wriothesley doesn’t even dare steal a glance at you, as much as he wanted to. you hesitated before answering him, still sinking in the fact that you suddenly have company in this garden now. “avoiding society as usual, especially the members of society who cannot give up offering their hand of marriage towards me, i suppose,” he hears you sigh. huh, how ironic. did wriothesley just bump into someone who suffers from the same problem as him?

the answer was most definitely yes.

“oh, what a coincidence—i suffer from such a predicament as well.” he chuckles bitterly in reply—too bitter for his liking. he didn’t want to suddenly ruin the mood now; the conversation had barely even started. “is that so? i’m delighted to know that i’m not alone in this boat then.” the tone of your chuckle was different from the chuckle you got from wriothesley. a comfortable silence was then enveloped over the both of you, enjoying the scenery around. he takes this as his chance to steal a glance, and he quickly takes it back. yet he finds himself glancing again.

and again

and again.

he doesn’t quite understand it himself. however, there was something about you that had this alluring effect on him of some sort. he just couldn’t tear his eyes off of you for some reason. “enjoying the view much, duke?” you asked, meeting his gaze. wriothesley then turns away suddenly, embarrassed that he was caught red handed in the act of practically ogling at you. his father did not raise him to be like this at all. he did not spend his childhood and teenage years training how to be a proper gentleman for his debut in society just to be ogling at a lady he just met at a ball. he needs to snap out of it.

“my apologies, but how could i resist putting my attention on a stunning lady like you?” he tries to play it cool. (keyword: tries.) it was a strategy that he learned to adapt every since he made his debut into society. playing it cool always works for him—surely his old trick wouldn’t fail at him now of all times, right? but wriothesley soon snapped out of his thoughts, and he then asked another question. “wait, you know who i am?”

you were taken aback by his words. is he seriously asking you that? “who wouldn’t know you? you’re quite famous with the other ladies.” you asked him back. he simply replies with a short “fair point.” and silence takes over once again. but this time, it was a bit awkward. you decided to introduce yourself to him, stating your name and title. he nods in acknowledgement of your introduction. he has heard of you before, of course. your family has quite a reputation in society, making you get quite a bit of attention at formal parties as well.

wriothesley doesn’t dare steal a glance at you again, as he has seemed to learn his lesson from what happened earlier. you, on the other hand, took this as your chance to take your leave. “although your company has been quite interesting, duke meropide, i’m afraid that i must take my leave first. i seem to have forgotten that i excused myself from lord jackson earlier.” you got up from your seat, already walking away from the fountain—that is, until wriothesley speaks.

“lord jackson? you mean the lord jackson who’s known for his… awful history in relationships?”

“i don’t believe there’s any other lord jackson in this society, duke meropide.” you turn around to face him.

“what business do you have with him?” why am i even asking? he thinks.

“he’s simply another one of the men who my mother had decided to set me up with for marriage. i was told to accompany him for tonight but you see, his company isn’t really... the best.” you replied, choosing your word carefully. despite you not liking lord jackson at all, it would be informal for you to speak ill of him when he could be the man you’ll actually marry.

actually, scratch that. as if you’ll ever allow yourself to marry a man like him. lord jackson was a creep, to say the least. you were aware of the talk that goes around him. but your dear mother is still kept in the dark about these stories, and she decided to set you up with him without your prior knowledge. so by technicality, you really had no choice. “you can’t marry him.” the man in front of you suddenly says.

“i beg your pardon?” you asked, afraid that you misheard him the first time. “you... you can’t marry him.” he repeats and then he continues. “i mean, surely you have heard the news about him—his temper makes him vicious. your marriage with him wouldn’t prosper at all.” you held back the urge to scoff at him. “i appreciate your concern, my duke, but our society works in an unfair way at this age. i cannot just declare that i do not wish to marry, unlike you. that is a privilege that i cannot simply afford.” you shot back at him.

wriothesley suddenly feels like a light bulb in his head has switched on.

“we could pretend to form an attachment.” he then says. you were getting more baffled by the second this conversation held on longer. “whatever do you mean?” you weren’t stupid. but you refused to believe that what he’s hinting at is also the one you foolishly thought. “with you in my arm, people would think that i have finally found my duchess. as for you, your mother would raise her standards and find more suitable candidates for your hand in marriage. because although i could be wrong, but have you ever told your mother what traits you find in a man?” he replies, a small smile slowly tugging on his lips. he clearly enjoys this idea.

“i… i suppose not.” he got you there. “but this is an absurd idea.” you protested.

“i find it quite brilliant, if i do say so myself.”

“you do know the risks of what you’re proposing right now, am i correct?”

“i do. but you do not wish to marry me, and i do not wish to marry you, so whatever should you have to lose?” he’s insisting. he’s insisting like this plan would work perfectly fine for the both of your benefits (well, if you were to be completely honest, there is a chance for it to be successful. but you grew up to believe that you shouldn’t expect for things to go so smoothly in your life). “i…” a lost of words. that’s what you are. too many possibilities are running through your head at the moment.

however, the duke did have one hell of a good point.

“fine. you got yourself a deal.”

and that’s how you got roped into the situation you have now. with an arm interlocked with the duke meropide’s, all eyes were bound to set upon you both. wriothesley could see the amusement in neuvillette’s expression; the same goes for the hint of amusement in queen furina’s eyes as she spots them in the crowd. wriothesley slowly guides you towards the dance floor, just in time for another dance to begin. gracefully, you took his hand as you step onto the dance floor with him. a familiar song started to play, one that you remember memorizing as dance class was mandatory for being a debutante in society.

“are you bothered?” he then asks in a whisper as he twirls you around. “whatever for?” you ask him back. “the staring. i could feel all of them looking at us right now, honestly,” he chuckles lowly. “hm, i’m trying not to mind it that much. but i suppose you’re probably enjoying all of this attention now, aren’t you?” a simple tease on your part, and wriothesley smiled at that. “my, are we on casual terms now?”

“chemistry should be a major factor that we should have in this plan, yes? so we might as well start by being more casual with one another.”

“indeed. glad to know that you’re quick to pick up on things.” he says. “of course i am. what do you take me for, duke meropide?” you asked him, a slight pout forming on your lips. and wriothesley smiled at that again before replying. “nothing offensive, that i can assure you.”

“i’m delighted to know that the ever-so-famous duke of meropide doesn’t harbor any sour feelings towards me then.”

it was a bit suffocating, all of the staring. yet at the same time, you understood why they’re staring in the first place. wriothesley, the current duke of meropide, is suddenly on the dance floor with a young woman. and he seems to be quite interested in her as well. people would assume you’re the reason why the duke has rejected so many marriage offers up until now—because he already had you in the first place.

the other unwanted attention you’d get from that assumption alone was enough to make you distracted to the point where you almost stepped on wriothesley’s foot. “i—my apologies, duke.” you stammered. “it’s alright. just look at me,” he says. you scrunched your eyebrows at him in confusion. “pardon?”

“just look at me; don’t focus on anyone else. it will help ease your mind.”

with hesitance, you followed what he said and locked your eyes with his. the duke’s eyes were a fine shade of grey. a unique color, if you do say so yourself. and surely he was correct. shifting your focus and thoughts to him did ease you from all of the other eyes that are locked onto both of your figures that’s moving along with the music.

time felt like it had stopped, as it also felt like you were the only ones present in the room.

to wriothesley’s surprise, the night passed by faster when he was with you. because before he knew it, he was already accompanying you back to your carriage. a lot of things had happened in the span of just a few hours. but wriothesley does not regret a single second of it, now that he recalls everything again. he wonders why—was it because he encountered you in the garden tonight?

maybe. that’s where it all started anyway.

he quickly snapped out of his trail of thoughts as he heard you speak. “i suppose i’ll see you soon then?” you asked him. “mhm, i suppose so. safe travels, m’lady.” he bids you his farewell by gently grabbing ahold of your hand and pressing a soft kiss onto your knuckle, refusing to break his eye contact with you as the footman closed your carriage’s door.

“safe travels as well, my duke.”

— — — — — — — —

word spread fast about you and the duke of meropide. your mother was shocked at the news—yet happy that you finally became “independent on finding your match” as per her words. you had no specific agenda for the day, so, as you usually do whenever you are free, you decided to visit the modiste—where your good friend chiori resides.

the sound of the bell chiming as the door opened made chiori perk up to see who would possibly need help making a new dress. but when her eyes met yours, she just knew you weren’t here to ask for a new dress. “i heard about the commotion last night.” she says, setting down a cup of tea for you as she takes a sip from her own cup, waiting for your response. “commotion is a vulgar term for it, chiori. i prefer to call it a memorable event.”

“i suppose it’s memorable for you to enter with your arm wrapped around the duke meropide just like that. how did it even happen? i vividly recall you telling me that you had no intention of marriage.”

“it’s… a long story,” you sighed, taking a sip from your own cup of tea. “oh? are you implying that there’s more to this than meets the eye, then?”

“i guess you could say that.”

“well, then tell me all about it.”

“i… i can't. my apologies, chiori.” it's not like you didn't trust her. in fact, there are more secrets that are held within this fine modiste’s place than one could ever imagine. but it was a silent and automatic agreement between you and the duke that no one must know of your plan. (although you already hinted to chiori that there's more to it than meets the eye.) besides, chiori is a smart woman who has known you before she could even have her place built.

she doesn't need to be a genius to find out that there's something up. she'll pick up on it sooner or later.

“it's alright. there’s no need to feel pressure to tell me now, but do promise me one thing: you're not doing anything against the law, right?”

you couldn't help but burst out in laughter at her question. “chiori! do you take me as a criminal? of course, i’m not!” you replied, laughing in a fit of giggles in between your words. “thank goodness. well, how was i supposed to know? you almost never stop by so we rarely have the chance to catch up. every bit of news i hear from you is usually from the other ladies who sometimes talk about you.”

“don’t worry, my friend. i’ll stop by more often from now on, but seriously, are you still eavesdropping on your customers? i thought we were past that.”

“it isn't my fault some of them whisper way too loudly for my liking,” chiori scoffs.

as you two have a few more conversations, it is about time for you to take your leave, as the time has reached for the hour when chiori would usually have customers. “it was truly a pleasure to catch up with you, chiori.” you said as she escorted you to the door. “a pleasure indeed. do drop by more often, alright? it can get quite lonely here, you know.” a giggle leaves your lips at her response. “will do. i believe i might need a new dress soon for the upcoming firestone ball?” you say and you notice how chiori’s had some sort of sparkle at your mention of needing a new dress. she had always loved making dresses for you.

“is that so? i promise to suggest some designs that you might like once you return.”

— — — — — — — —

the fountain of lucine was a famous spot for a walk in the park type of day. every day, you’d see different individuals make their wish upon the fountain. whether that is a prosperous marriage, being blessed with a beloved child, or even gaining wealth, everyone wishes for all sorts of desires towards the fountain. but you never found yourself doing the same. it’s most probably because you've already been content with your life up until now. you never had any struggles when it came to growing up.

but again, that is up until now.

you took a step further towards the fountain, silently stating your wish and threw the coin into the fountain’s small pool of water. “penny for your wish?” you heard someone say beside you. quickly turning your head to the direction of the voice, you were surprised to see the duke there. “duke meropide! i—i didn’t expect that you were going to be here today.”

“i decided to go out for a stroll; the weather is quite nice today, is it not?”

“ah, yes, i suppose it is,” you replied, looking around. the weather was indeed nice today. perfect for a quick stroll around the area. “would you mind taking a stroll with me today? it would be a shame to waste this fine weather talking in the same spot.” he says, offering his arm for you to take. “i’d be delighted to.” your arm gets hooked on his.

“how are you faring lately? it has been quite a while since our last meeting,” wriothesley starts. he personally prefers his attempt at small talk today to his attempt at small talk the night he met you. it has been a few days since the ball held by the house of hearth. and within those few days, you haven’t spoken to the duke since. though, your house suddenly has suitors calling for you during your calling hour. all hopeful to gain your interest in them instead of the duke.

(however, you all shut them down politely. you found yourself repeating your apologies to the lords that have called upon you during those times.)

“i’ve been well. certainly, the stunt that we pulled during the ball held in the house of hearth did not go unnoticed. my social energy has been drained because of the suitors who called me.” a sigh leaves your lips. “oh? i apologize for that then. i hope that your social energy isn't at it’s lowest right now,” he chuckles. you gave him a playful glare at his remark. “are you making fun of my previous predicament, duke?”

“oh, heavens no. my apologies, did that offend you?” he says, holding back a smile at his words. he was definitely not apologetic. “you’re not that sorry for it, aren’t you?”

“perchance.”

“you cannot just say perchance!”

a laugh erupts from wriothesley at your response. it was the first time you heard him laugh like that. and in the public eye, you two would seem like a joyful couple spending some quality time walking around the fountain of lucine as a pastime. well, that was technically the goal. to show the public that you and the duke of meropide are madly in love with one another. what could possibly go wrong?

— — — — — — — —

by the time the firestone ball had taken place (which is nearly just a week after the ball from the house of hearth), you and the duke were on the dance floor once again.

“i believe we have yet to discuss our other terms and agreement for our plan, your grace.” you said, following his lead in the waltz. “ah, you’re right. well then, why don’t you start? ladies first.” he says. “i was hoping that you’d have some ideas on what terms we should have; after all, this was your idea, if i may remind you.”

you continue speaking as wriothesley continues to lead you through the dance. “i am starting to be convinced that this will be more than just a simple game of pretend just so we could fool the members of society, or my mother, or the women you have wanted to get away from every time you step foot in public. a life is at stake here, your grace, my life, and i just simply cannot have this go wrong. so if you are not in agreement with that, then you should tell me now.” the duke never broke his eye contact with you as you spoke.

“i shall agree… on one condition.”

“your grace, i believe that you do not understa—”

“you must call me wriothesley.”

there’s only one word to describe you at the moment: speechless. and wriothesley takes your silence as a chance to continue his words. “if we are truly to be courting, and if we are truly to prove that this is a match like no other, then you should call me by my name. after all, weren’t you the one who suggested that we should be more... casual with one another?”

he was right, and he had yet again another one hell of a good point. you mentally sighed, “very well then… wriothesley.” a laugh dares to escape your throat but this does not go unnoticed by the man who has his hand held in his at the moment. “is there something funny about my name?” he asks you, raising an eyebrow at your reaction. “no, no. it is a perfectly fine name. it is also quite unique, if i may add.” you replied, calming yourself down. laughing loudly while you’re in the middle of the dance floor would raise questions, after all.

“oh, perfectly fine? very well then… (name).” wriothesley’s voice seemed to have lowered itself an octave lower as he said your name with a slight rasp. your eyes looked away from his as you shifted your gaze to his collar instead. both of you went silent, yet you were still moving to the rhythm of the music.

wriothesley’s hand, that was supposedly at your waist, trailed upwards. just below the nape of your neck and also before your spine starts. your breath hitched at the contact of his cold finger tips there.

“i do hope that this plan will be successful.” you said, gaining your composure.

“have faith in us.”

— — — — — — — —

meetings with the duke of meropide became more frequent than you expected. whether that may be a coincidental meeting or a planned one—no one could really pinpoint it, much to their dismay.

it started off with a simple meal. then another walk. then an official invitation to accompany him to a ball or two. or three; in fact, he has invited you for a lot of them now. you haven’t thought much about the future as of late, always focusing on the present, where you’re definitely by wriothesley’s side. there was never a dull moment with the man. it was always entertaining to be with him. whenever another man (a man whose appeal is not to take interest in a sense) would approach you, wriothesley would pull some sort of stunt that’s connected to his “wild jealousy” of some sort. it’s a bit hard to hold back a laugh whenever this happens. there are times when he would talk to you about the other nobles present in the party and how he’s acquainted with them, and you’d admire the fact that he has many connections (something that a duke like him should have; he’s doing well in his duties, you’d note).

there are also times when you two will find yourselves alone, secluding yourselves from the crowd. these were, personally, your favorites. with the moonlight shining brightly upon you both once again, you’d always be reminded of the night you met. at these moments, this is when you and the duke would share… more personal things with one another. things that neither of you had expected to share with anyone else. like how he avoids marriage because of the huge responsibility that comes with it. or like how you doubt that others, especially men (minus the duke), would understand your struggles as a woman in this society.

wriothesley might have a lot of connections, but he was just the same as you. both of you kept your circle quite small (and by small, you both have only one person you truly trust to confide in). but even if you both wouldn’t admit it out loud, trust had also bloomed between the two of you.

(yet is trust the only thing that has actually bloomed?)

tonight, you found yourselves in yet another garden. “have you ever heard of why a flower wilts, wriothesley?” you decided to start this time. “hm? i suppose it’s because nothing good actually lasts long in life.”

“how… pessimistic of you to say.” you sweatdropped at his response. he chuckles yet again, you noticed that he always chuckles apologetically while looking away before he actually says his apologies. a habit of his, perhaps. “my apologies; i must repeat myself. the less a person sees of me, the happier their life is.”

“why so? i enjoy your company quite well.”

“oh? and are you sure those words aren’t forced because you’re stuck with me with this little ruse we have ongoing?” he asks back. these exchanges became frequent. one would ask a question, and the other would ask another in return. “i’m being quite honest, wriothesley. i really do enjoy your company quite well.”

“the feeling is likewise, (name).” there’s something satisfying about how your name rolls off of his tongue. he pronounces it the same as everyone else does yet how does it feel different when he says it? it’s baffling, that’s one thing for sure. “is it awful that i’m actually quite enjoying this?”

“you mean my wild jealousy?” he asks, playfully offended.

“fooling society.” you corrected. “there are some in the crowd who secretly know everything about everyone. yet we have them utterly convinced that we are mad for one another.”

“we are awfully clever then.” he says in amusement. “indeed we are.” you chuckled at his reply.

if there’s one thing you would always notice between the two of you, it would always be how you were glued to one another. like there’s some magnetic pull that automatically drags the other to their side.

this moment is no different because you could feel his knuckles grazing against yours ever so lightly. it starts with the hook of your pinkies, then slowly turns into you grabbing a hold of his other fingers. wriothesley could feel his heart beating fast at the contact. he glances at you, admiring your features underneath the moonlight once again. you glance at him as well. was he already this close to you when you started walking in this garden? because you swear your faces are inching even closer to each other. wriothesley’s other hand gently grabs your nape, guiding you as he gently pulls you in for a kiss.

his lips were soft against yours, something you didn’t expect from him. he kisses you like you were delicate (to which you were, delicate to him, at least), eyes closing themselves as he enjoys the sensation of your lips against his. you kiss him back in the same way, not really knowing what to do next—but you kiss him back. that’s all that matters. his lips leave yours as wriothesley latches his lips onto your neck, continuing the light kisses against it.

you let out a gasp at the contact as you lean your head back so you can give him more access. he intertwined his other hand with yours; it was quite scandalous. having a moment like this on someone else’s property. you extracted him from your neck, pulling him in for another kiss. this time it was a bit more rough—desperate, even.

well, that was until he pulled away from you abruptly. you looked at him in a daze yet you were confused. “we must return; we’ve been out long enough,” he says, letting go of your hand in the process as he fixes himself. he tries to catch his breath, processing what has just happened. did he really just kiss you? he supposes (or, in other terms, hopes) that it’s normal. ultimately, this should’ve been part of your agreement in the first place, right?

“i… you’re right. my mother could be looking for me any moment now.” what could possibly go wrong, you ask? well, apparently, many things could go wrong.

but if there’s one thing that got stitched into your mind tonight, it’s only one thing:

the duke of meropide is one good kisser.

however, what will become of your relationship now?

— — — — — — — —

you found yourself going to chiori again. the familiar sound of the bell chiming against the door notified chiori of someone entering her place. and once she saw you, she could just feel the distress radiating off of your body.

“what happened this time? i haven’t heard any good news about you two from last night’s party.” she says, pouring you a cup of tea. “good news? more like insane occurrences,” you sighed, watching the tea leave the teapot as it transfers onto your teacup. “ insane occurrences? what happened to ‘memorable event’?” she asked, confused with your choice of words.

you let out another sigh, finally revealing everything to chiori. luckily, today was her day off. with another ball just held last night, she would get at least a day or two of good rest before she opens up again. chiori takes in every detail of your story well, surprised that this is what you’ve been up to.

as soon as you were done talking, you decided to take a sip of your tea. “so you’re worried that you almost slept with the duke of meropide?” chiori states. and you choked on your drink once you heard her. “you didn’t have to word it like that! have some decency!” you exclaimed, embarrassment surging through you.

“i don’t get it, though. what are you so worried about? it’s almost as if… wait.” she pauses.

“it’s almost as if what, chiori?”

“do you love him?”

“huh? love who?”

“don’t play dumb with me, (name). do you or do you not love the duke of meropide?”

this time, it was your turn to pause. do you? well, certainly, he is nice company. and he treats you well despite neither of you having the wish to marry each other. he is also a good kisser (something that you don’t really feel like counting but it’s still a fact). recalling everything that has happened now, the only things that come into mind are the things you’ve noticed about wriothesley. how his eyes are the most remarkable shade of grey, his scar below his right eye. the feeling of the callouses on his hands as you held them on the dance floor.

it can’t be. there’s just no way. he’s a duke of all people—he’s out of your league in so many ways. he’s too far for you to reach. and besides, this is all just a game of pretend, is it not? surely that kiss would’ve meant nothing to him.

fuck.

“i do.” you replied to her in a whisper

“i’m glad that you’re not dense.” chiori says, flicking your forehead. you yelped in pain at the contact.

yes, you do love the duke of meropide.

and you stand by that.

meanwhile, on the other side of the coin, wriothesley had a crisis himself. “you’re quite lucky today, to ask for my presence while queen furina is occupied with duke arlecchino with her. so what assistance can i offer for you today, wriothesley?” neuvillette states, pulling his chair so he could take a seat before the man in front of him. wriothesley leans back on his seat, an elbow propped on top of the chair’s arm rest as his index finger is rested upon his lips.

wriothesley sighs. before spilling everything to neuvillette. his friend’s expression grew more amused as he continued on with the story, finding every detail unexpected for a man like his friend. “i see. so that’s how it is. well, let me ask you a simple question then, my friend.”

“shoot.”

“do you love her?”

wriothesley pauses. neuvillette’s questions echo repeatedly in his mind. do i love her? he then asks himself. he was not stupid. wriothesley did not need to become some sort of genius to find the answer to that question—because the answer is no. he doesn’t love you. yes, he has grown to trust you with things he would never even dare tell anyone else. but he’s scared. wriothesley is scared because he has never thought of commitment in this way before. romance was just a frivolous belief to him, after all. so surely, this would all just mean nothing.

he ponders about it for a few more moments. he’s too scarred—too damaged—to be loved by someone like you. he feels undeserving of it. he knows there’s another man out there who could be the man you want to be. someone who will make you happier than he does. someone who is willing to commit himself to you. someone who could love you with nothing holding him back.

“i don’t.” wriothesley firmly says.

no, wriothesley cannot be in love with you.

(neuvillette gives his friend a sigh as his friend takes his leave. he returns back to the room where queen furina is currently spending time with duke arlecchino. the duke had a habit of bringing the queen sweets from their travels abroad. the queen has excitement written all over her eyes as she makes eye contact with the pastries set in front of her.)

— — — — — — — —

it wasn’t hard to put two and two together to realize that wriothesley has been avoiding you.

it has been a few months since you decided to start your ruse. although he still accompanies you, once it’s quite crowded, he will deliberately avoid your presence like a plague, and you have no idea why. you first thought that may be he was just feeling unwell but it has occurred more frequent now and it just stings, really. it stings because you thought that you two had formed quite the bond over the past few months.

“wriothesley, is something wrong? you know you could always talk to me, right?” you asked him, finally cornering him as he had successfully avoided you for the past two hours ever since the party started. “it’s nothing of your concern,” was all he said before leaving you again. but that answer wasn’t enough—hell, it wasn’t even a proper answer for you. so you decided to follow him.

“where are you going?” you asked him. speeding your pace up to catch up to him. wriothesley doesn’t answer and just continues on walking. he ends up going into a secluded room, not even bothering to close the door. you followed him in and shut the door behind you as you faced him. he had his back facing you as you heard him take a deep breath. “wriothesley, what’s wrong? and don’t even dare say that it’s none of my concern because it is.”

wriothesley could feel himself going mad. he can’t do this tonight. what even caused him to behave this way?

ah, he remembers. it was that unbearable sight of you interacting with marquess lyney. he should’ve been happy that you finally seem interested in someone else because all you two have to do now is plan how you should end things. but that thought made wriothesley realize two things. one, he cannot bear the sight of you with another man (but why? it’s not like you’re actually his in the first place). and two, he doesn’t want things to end between the both of you. whether it's a ruse that feels too real for his own liking or whatnot, he doesn’t want to lose you in his life.

he loosens the buttons on his top so that he can breathe more properly. you got closer to him, but only if you knew that was a dangerous move on your part. you grabbed his arm in hopes of getting a view of wriothesley’s expression at the moment.

he then faces you, his eyes searching for something in yours but you just can’t find out what. it was silent; neither of you dared to speak a word. and wriothesley finds himself pulling you for a kiss. it was a bit rough how his lips crashed against yours. he then pulls away, his eyes widening at what he just did. “i… my most sincere apologies.”

and he leaves. just like that.

the familiar door to the modiste is presented at you as you knocked. it was late at night. the party you attended earlier with wriothesley was long over. but you knew your dear friend would still be up even at this late hour.

“(name)? what brings you here at this hour?” chiori asks, opening the door wider so you could enter.

“i need a goddamn drink.” you said.

— — — — — — — —

“so you’re telling me that he just… kissed you again, and then he left the party? just like that?” chiori repeats. you take another shot of the alcohol chiori provided for the both of you. “hey, calm down. this one is actually pretty strong, you idiot.” chiori warns you.

you lean back, slamming the shot glass against the table. “just like that, chiori. like what is wrong with him? is he perhaps sick in the head?”

“i honestly don’t know if i should be at least grateful that he apologized.” she says, taking a shot as well. you glare at her remark and she raises her hands in return. you sighed this time, “are men always this… complicated?”

“hm, i don’t think so. maybe it’s just the duke.”

“you’re not helping!”

“you never said you wanted help in the first place.”

— — — — — — — —

seven days.

seven days since you last spoke to wriothesley. seven days since you last heard of him. it has been seven days yet he hasn’t made any attempts to contact you since.

just what was up with him? he was fine before. did you do something wrong? did you accidentally say something that was offensive to him? everything has changed now. wriothesley is treating you like he treated you before he actually met you—cold.

your mother has decided to throw a ball this time—something about her not wanting to fall behind the other mothers. you complied, having to accept that society is nothing but competition against one another. and on the day of the ball, you found yourself lonely. if only chiori wasn’t busy with her other orders, then maybe this night would’ve been more entertaining.

wriothesley has yet to make his appearance (or perhaps he is already here yet he has decided to avoid you again). but you have decided on one thing tonight: you will talk things out with that stubborn man no matter what it takes. because you cannot just bear to stand idly by when wriothesley could be struggling alone. you once heard from your mother that love makes you do the craziest things and tonight was the night you realized that she was right. but isn’t it worth it if it’s all in the name of love?

the outdoor area of your home was also used for the ball, and decorations are displayed here and there to make the area look more eyecatching. to your family’s dismay, it has begun to rain. making all of the guests head inside to continue the festivities. but as you made your way to follow the crowd, you spotted someone too familiar—it was the man you’ve been looking for all evening, wriothesley.

looking around his surroundings, wriothesley spots you getting drenched in the rain. his eyes widen as he quickly makes his way towards you, removing his coat to drape it over you instead. “are you insane? you’re getting drenched!” he exclaims in worry. you scoff in return, pushing yourself away from his coat and allowing yourself to get wet by the rain.

“am i insane? i should be the one asking you that!” you said, glaring at him. “how… how could you? do you know how worried i have been because of you? you avoided me, then kissed me, then avoided me even more! i had no idea if you were okay because you didn’t even dare speak with me while i was here stuck waiting for you. why? because i didn’t want to pressure you into telling me what’s wrong!”

wriothesley is at a loss for words at your outburst. he just stares at you in return, guilt written all over him. he deserved your anger. but he didn’t mean for things to go this far, yet he also didn’t know how to handle things. you continued speaking, “wriothesley, i have no idea what’s clouding over your heart but i do know one thing: you musn’t keep it to yourself.”

“(name)...” he softly says—hesitantly, even. like he’s scared to even say your name in the first place. you take a step forward, both of your hands reaching out to hold his face. your touch was gentle on his skin, making sure you weren't making him uncomfortable. “tell me what’s wrong, wriothesley. i’ll listen.”

and tell you, he does. he voice shakes at first yet he begins to steady it as he unravels to you everything that has been bothering him up until now. his jealousy, his inner turmoil, and his insecurities. and you listen to him, understanding every word that escapes his lips as your hand never leaves his face, your fingers gently brushing over his scar below his right eye. and once he’s finished, you choose your next words carefully.

“there’s something that i realized in life that i believe you should know. just because something is not perfect does not make it any less worthy of love. you made yourself believe otherwise. you made yourself believe that you had to be without fault just so you could be loved but you’re wrong, wriothesley. should you need any proof of the matter, then look just here.” you weakly laugh at the last sentence, and wriothesley just stares at you. you couldn’t find out what’s going on in his head but you know that he’s listening.

your voice shakes as you continue. “i am tired of this sick game of pretending. i am tired of pretending—of acting as if i do not love you, because i do. i love you more than you could ever imagine. every scar, every flaw, every imperfection—i love all of you. you may think you’re too damaged or too scarred to allow yourself of happiness but you can choose differently, wriothesley. you can choose to love me as much as i love you. that should not be up to anyone else—that cannot be up to anyone else.”

“it can only be up to you.”

he was still silent as you slowly let go of his face but wriothesley was quick to catch them. he grabs ahold of your hands, and with his slight shaking, he takes a deep breath. he realizes something when you profess your love for him. he puts two things together: commitment and you. and the conclusion he draws from that is that he doesn’t mind commitment, as long as he’s committing himself to you. that’s how much of an impact you have on him. yes, he’s scared. and yes, this might not go like he hopes it will. but that doesn’t matter to him because he knows it will all be worth it for you. wriothesley is a coward when it comes to love and the like—that, he admits. but he isn’t allowing himself to be a coward for the rest of his life. why deprive himself of the serene type of happiness that he could only achieve when he has you by his side?

he kept his eyes on the hands he’s holding now as he began to speak. “i.. i do not wish to be alone. i know that now. but what i do not know is how to be the man you wish for me to be—the man you truly deserve. i do not know how to do any of this, but i do know another thing: i love you too. i love you. most ardently.” he then meets your eyes as he notices one thing in them. love.

“you stay. you stay and we’ll get through this. together. that’s where we’ll start. we have all the time in the world.”

“may i… kiss you?” he hesitates to ask. but you give him a nod of approval before you’re met with the familiar pleasure of his lips on yours. he relishes every second of the kiss, taking this as a chance to ground himself into reality—refusing to believe that this is some sick dream that his mind decided to play in his head. a hand slithers its way to the nape of his neck and wriothesley groans at the feeling as his hand grabs your waist tighter. wriothesley thanked his lucky stars for the night he met you because this wouldn’t be possible if it weren’t for them.

love at first sight was a frivolous belief for a man like wriothesley.

but he knew otherwise the moment he laid his eyes upon you that night in the garden.

#( writings )#astronetwrk #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin imagines #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley #x reader

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javiscigarette · 1 year

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In the Middle of the Night

Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: In the middle of the night, Joel is wide awake and you're moaning in your sleep

Warnings: no use of y/n, established relationship, pwp, fingering, (consensual) somnophilia, Joel’s pov, him talking you through it ofc, filthy but so much fluff, Joel is just so in love ugh

w/c: 4.4k

a/n: not sure what came over me with this one but omg I had fun with it and I’m now obsessed with writing from his pov. As always, I'm so greatful for everyone who reads and interacts with this, plsss let me know if you like it and if I should write a part 2 hehehe

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Joel has never been good at falling asleep at a reasonable time. But he doesn’t really mind staying up when you’re sleeping so peacefully next to him.

He’s lying on his back on the left side of your bed, one arm bent and resting on the pillow above his head with the other one draped over your shoulders. You’re curled into his side, your cheek smushed against his chest, small, warm puffs of air diffusing across his bare skin with each deep and steady breath you take.

He tried to fall asleep when you did a few hours ago, but the scenes from earlier that night played on a constant loop in his head keeping him wide awake. Visions of you across from him at the dinner table, head tilted back leaving your neck exposed for his viewing as you laughed at his stupid joke. The fresh memory of him pinning you against your front door as soon as the two of you stumbled inside, kissing you hard and tasting the wine on your tongue as you moaned into his mouth. He keeps coming back to the specific image of being buried deep inside of you, your heels digging into his back and his large palm pressed over your mouth in a feeble attempt to stop at least some of the noise from traveling through the thin walls to your neighbor’s apartment. But the dents and scrapes in the paint on the wall behind your headboard are clear evidence of those failed attempts.

After spilling inside of you and sending you over the edge for a third time that night, he had barely managed to get you in the shower. Once there, your soft moans echoed in the steamy bathroom as he took his sweet time pulling one more orgasm from you with two fingers sliding languidly in and our of your sore and swollen pussy.

“Need lotion” you had mumbled as he dried you off with a fluffy towel. He chuckled and intercepted your reach for the bottle of lotion, picking it up himself instead. He had to practically carry you out to the bed, where he smoothed his warm hands all over your body, rubbing the lavender lotion into nearly every inch of your skin. You were already snoring softly by the time he finished.

And now he’s here, watching your curtains flow gently in the breeze from the open window as you sleep peacefully right next to him, the smell of lavender and the cool autumn air relaxing both his mind and body.

You always kept your bedroom cool, especially when Joel was with you. Joel always radiates heat, but he was a human furnace in the bed next to you. And It wouldn’t be as bad if he didn’t insist on cuddling throughout the night, subconsciously reaching out in his sleep and pulling you in closer every time you started to stray away until you woke up sticky with sweat. Joel doesn’t care, though. He doesn’t mind the press of your tacky skin against his and in fact, he craves it when you’re not with him.

The streetlight right outside your bedroom window filters in through the curtains that are rustling in the breeze, slivers of pale light briefly illuminating different areas of your room. He tries to commit it all to memory: the makeup and jewelry cluttered on your vanity, the same vanity that he bent you over two weeks ago and made you watch as he fucked you until your legs were jelly and you could barely stand, the tight dress that he practically tore off your body earlier that evening now bunched up in a small heap on the floor in the corner, the various knickknacks and trinkets on the small bookshelf in the corner of the room, the seemingly ever growing collection of candles on your dresser.

He’s only been in here a handful of times. The two of you usually end up at his house where you can take advantage of being as loud as you want. But your apartment in the city had some practical advantages. Like tonight, where after a little too much red wine at dinner, neither of you were in any condition to drive back to his house. So, the only option was to walk the few blocks back to your apartment, both you giggling like idiots with his arm wrapped protectively around your waist and his jacket draped over your shoulders.

He studies the pictures on your wall too. There’s the framed photos from the trips you’ve told him about, pictures from the mountains in Colorado where you nearly passed out from the reduced oxygen levels, and the picture of the Amalfi coast taken from the boat on which you unfortunately discovered for the first time just how prone you are to seasickness. His gaze lingers on the pictures of you with your friends and family, your infectious smile making you the center of attention in all of them.

Then his mind starts to wander, maybe a bit too far, but he doesn’t exactly want to stop thinking about how everything would fit in his house. He thinks about your candles on top of his dresser, how he would move around the furniture in his room so that he could fit your vanity in a spot that catches the most natural lighting. He imagines your framed pictures hanging in his hallway or propped up on the shelves in his living room. A subtle smile spreads on his lips when he envisions your soft blankets spread over his bed, and his heart beats just a little faster at the thought of the two of you sharing a closet, your clothes mixing with his. He wonders if his room would smell like your lavender lotion too.

He's pulled back to reality when you make a small, soft noise. He looks down at you, worried that he somehow woke you up. But your breathing is still steady and your face is peaceful and relaxed. He figures that you’re probably in the middle of a dream and he wonders what it’s about. A small, maybe selfish, part of him hopes that it’s about him. Then you start to shift, and he lifts his arm from your shoulders, giving you just enough room to roll over onto your other side until your back is pressed against his side instead.

He fixes your eyes now on your side profile, the shadows and light from outside dancing across your face. He trails his gaze from your hairline to the slope of your nose to the perfect curve of your slightly parted lips. He tries to memorize all of that too, though most of it is already ingrained deep in his brain.

He stares shamelessly for another minute or two until you make another small sound, another signal that you’re dreaming. Except this time he doesn’t have to wonder too much what it’s about, not with the way that you push your hips back against him with another small sound that sounds all too familiar following in quick succession.

Joel’s entire body tenses as he looks at you, his cock already twitching underneath your linen sheets. He stays completely still, watching you and waiting to see if you’ll move again. After a few painstakingly long seconds later, you make another sound. And he’s not sure if it’s all in his head but it sounds almost like his name.

Logically, he knows that he should probably just let you sleep. You get just as grumpy as he does if you don’t get your full 8 hours. But after a few more seconds, another sound slips out of you, a desperate garble of “Joel” much clearer this time but still thick with sleep.

And that’s his greenlight.

A soft smile tugs at his lips as he starts to scoot down the bed, movements slow and calculated as not to rouse you. He carefully moves his arm from where it’s draped over your shoulders and slides it under your neck instead before rolling over onto his side. He closes the centimeter gap between your bare bodies until your soft skin is pressed against his under the safety and warmth of your sheets and blanket.

He snakes his other arm around your waist, pulling you even closer so that your ass is pressed firmly into the cradle of his pelvis. He buries his face in your hair that’s cascading down the side of your neck, inhaling the scent of your shampoo. He skates his fingers mindlessly over your stomach, his own skin heating up just at the sensation of your soft skin under his fingertips. He tries to resist the urge to roll his hips up against you. He wants to stay in this calm peacefulness for as long as possible and he’s fully aware that once he starts, there’s a very slim chance that he’ll be able to stop.

But his efforts are thwarted when you push your hips back again, unconsciously grinding your ass against his half-hard cock with another sweet sound slipping from your lips. He sighs quietly against your neck but stays still, exerting the last ounce of his self-control.

As if moving on their own accord, his fingertips slide further down until they’re ghosting over the crease of your thigh. He’s eternally grateful that you refused to put on any clothes before falling asleep, which, now in hindsight, was clear foreshadowing of what’s currently happening.

He moves his whole hand between your thighs to cup your sex and dips two fingertips between your folds and mouths a silent “fuck” at the copious amount of slick that quickly coats them. Still in the grips of deep sleep, you shift your legs to give him better access. He smiles. Your body is always so receptive to his touch.

With a soft groan, he gently prods at your dripping entrance, taking his time to feel how swollen you still are from when you were stretched so perfectly around him just a few hours ago. But you interrupt him with a soft whimper, your hips moving against him once again and he chuckles silently. Still so needy and impatient as ever, even in your sleep.

But he can’t deny you, he never really can. He’s wrapped so tightly around your finger that he’d do anything you’d ask of him in a heartbeat without a single second thought. It’s almost worrisome, how easily he caves into you, how you wipe every rational thought clean out of his mind, how in just a matter of a few days you so easily managed to knock down the walls around his heart that he spent decades building. But all those thoughts just fade into noise when he’s with you. Especially with you like this.

So, he gathers a generous amount of your wetness on his fingers and drags them up to your clit. Your body immediately reacts with a jolt of your hips and a louder moan. Joel curses under his breath when you back your ass up against him even further, his length now fully hard pressing against your bare ass, precum starting to slowly seep from his tip and smear against your soft, supple skin.

He trails his fingers back to your entrance. Forehead pressed against the nape of your neck With a long sigh, his breath warm and humid on the back of your neck, he slowly sinks one in finger. His eyes slip closed and his eyebrows draw together as he slowly drags his finger in and out of your dripping hole. He nearly whimpers when he adds a second finger, your walls fluttering and slick leaking down his fingers to his knuckles. “Fuuuck, baby” Joel whispers his lips just barely brushing your skin as your walls clench around him.

He works you open on his two thick fingers – not that you really need it after taking his cock like that earlier. But he’s obsessed with the sleepy sighs and soft moans you’re making. And he’s barely aware of the fact that he’s now moving his hips, gently rolling them against your ass in a subconscious attempt to relieve the pressure in his groin. He pants against your neck, already feeling so delirious and drunk on you and your body like a horned up teenager. He’s never felt this way with anyone else, so affected by you. He can hardly control himself when he’s with you, it’s like he’s a raw, exposed wire and you’re the spark that sets him ablaze in an instant.

He curls his fingertips and the way your hips immediately rock back lets him know he’s there. Your moans are more frequent and just a bit louder as he strokes your spot, a fresh wave of your wetness gushing around his fingers and dripping down to his palm. But he doesn’t want to wake you up yet, not when he has every intention of waking you up when he’s buried balls deep inside of you.

So he exercises his last bit of self-control, sliding his fingers out and dragging them back up to your clit again, tracing a few more lazily circles before pulling his hand away completely.

With his fingers and palm soaked in your slick, he tilts his hips back just enough to make enough room to wrap his hand around his cock. He hisses quietly through clenched teeth at the contact, and he can’t resist a few strokes, spreading your arousal up and down his length. After a few passes, he moves his hand from his cock to your top leg, cupping the back of your knee and pushing it up til it’s bent at a 90 degree angle. Now with unobstructed access, he fists himself again and lines himself up with your dripping entrance.

He sinks in nice and slow, letting out a deep groan from the back of his throat. He drapes his arm around your middle, pulling you in close to him as he moves his hips with shallow thrusts and noses along your neck, pressing kisses along the underside of your jaw and sighing heavily once he’s nestled all the way inside you.

The thought of staying still just like this, falling asleep to the feeling of your slippery walls squeezing him so tight like this crosses his mind for a brief moment. But you soon start to stir in his hold and the sound of your sudden, sharp inhale signals that you’re regaining consciousness.

He presses his lips to the back of your neck while he patiently waits for you to come to your senses. It takes a couple seconds for you to regain control of your limbs, and when you do, you reflexively try to move from his grasp, but he tightens his arm around your middle and holds you in place. “Shh, baby” Joel whispers in your ear. “I’ve gotcha”

You immediately surrender, relaxing in his hold with a quiet hum. His chest is pressed against your back, heat radiating off of him and putting you on the verge of sweating. But it feels so safe the broad expanse nearly completely encompasses you like he’s shielding you from the rest of the world. But you don’t have much time to focus on that, the feeling of the tip of his cock nudging at your cervix creating much more pressing needs.

“Dreamin’ of me, weren’t you?” Joel asks, his voice a barely audible whisper. You answer with a sleepy whine as you move to grind your hips down, nudging his cock half an inch deeper. “Sound so sweet moanin’ in your sleep” he continues, his hand slides up from your stomach to your chest, cupping one breast and gently rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “moanin’ my name.”

You whimper and wiggle your hips as he presses a kiss just behind your ear. “Joel” you mumble, pushing your hips back in an attempt to get him to move. “Yeah, sounded just like that” Joel grunts as he starts to slowly pull out, his warm breath fanning over the shell of your ear, undoubtedly sending tingles rushing down your spine.

He keeps his arm under your neck, your head resting on his bicep while his forearm crosses your chest, his hand gripping your shoulder. He has you in a loose headlock, grunting softly near your ear as he fills you up again and groaning when he bottoms out once again.

“Always so fuckin’ tight and wet no matter how many times I stretch you out, huh? Always so ready for me.”

All you can manage is a pathetic whimper while you bring a hand up to hold onto his forearm across your chest. He keeps a slow pace, his breath hitching in your ear every time he bottoms out. You feel unbelievable wrapped around him like this, white-hot tingles shooting all the way up his spine at the sensation of his cockhead dragging along your warm, wet walls as you clamp down around him like a vice.

He wants to savor it, wants to relax into this moment for as long as possible. But you’re needy, he can feel it now with the way you're squeezing him and practically sucking him back in every time he pulls out. And his own heady desperation is starting to cloud his vision as he slowly fucks you, your tired body loose and pliant under his touch. He needs to make you come again, needs to feel you shake and squirm, needs you to make him come.

With a soft groan, he allows himself to start moving faster. His lips easily find the junction of your neck and collarbone where he immediately starts nibbling and gently sucking at the thin skin, claiming what’s rightfully his and shivering when you tighten around him.

He tries his best to keep a gentle pace, not wanting to jostle you around too much. Except your breathy whimpers are so sweet and your sleepy whines sound so angelic that he can hardly keep it together.

He tightens his grip on your shoulder, the muscles in his arm flexing gently under your palm as he locks you in place and starts to really fuck you. He moves his hand from your beast, smoothing his calloused palm down your side to your ass then palms at your cheek, grabbing a few greedy handfuls before pushing it up to give himself more space to move.

Goosebumps break out across his skin when you let out a long, drawn out moan and dig your nails into his forearm, leaving crescent-shaped dents in his skin. A not-so-small part of him hopes that you break the skin so he can admire the small purple and red marks in the morning.

“Goddamnit, baby” Joel pants as he snaps his hips, filling you to the brim. “You feel so fuckin’ good. So perfect like this.” Every few thrusts he pauses when he’s all the way inside and grinds against you, his eyes rolling back his skull when you push your hips back at the same time, multiplying the intended effect. .

“S’this what you were dreamin’ of?” Joel rasps, his lips ghosting over your jaw. “Huh, baby? S’your little pussy so needy that you can’t help but dream about me fillin’ it up?” You answer in the form of a moan with your walls pulsating around him. He keeps his steady pace, the slick sounds of him sliding in and out of you floating around in your quiet bedroom.

“Attagirl” Joel sighs when your moans start to get louder. Your hips are starting to buck and swivel, and your chest heaves with every ragged breath you take. He places hot, open-mouthed kisses on every inch of skin he can access until he reaches the nape of your neck again. You whine his name, sleepy and desperate, and he shudders at the sound.

“Just keep takin’ it, baby, just like that. Doin’ such a good job.” he whispers. “My good girl…always takes everything I give her. Even in her fuckin’ sleep”

Then suddenly your hand is on top of his where it’s resting on your ass. You grip his palm and move his hand to where it was a couple of minutes ago between your thighs, only letting go when he presses two fingers to your clit and starts tracing those lazy circles again. His cock twitches inside of you, the thought of you knowing exactly what you want and demanding it, even when you’re still half asleep, drives him crazy.

With his eyes still closed and eyebrows drawn together, he sucks a sharp breath through clenched teeth and focuses on both the feeling of effortlessly gliding in and out of your sweet pussy combined with the feeling of your clit pulsing under his fingertips.

He fucking loves it. There’s not a single scenario that he could possibly conjure up in his head where he would ever be tired of this. He takes pride in it too, knowing exactly how to reduce you to a squirming mess in less than five minutes, or how to take his time, slowly breaking you down until every thought in your brain is replaced with just JoelJoelJoel. He knows your body better than his own: the way you arch your back when he tweaks your nipples just right, how you melt when he kisses that one spot on your neck, the exact patterns he needs to trace on your clit to get you to come in nearly 30 seconds.

That is all committed to memory. All of it’s burned to his brain and plastered underneath his eyelids. And just like clockwork, after a few seconds of his fingers pressed against your clit, your thighs start to shake around his hand.

“Ohh there you go, sweetheart” Joel groans, both his fingers and his hips moving faster. “C’mon, baby” he urges, voice strained and tight in his throat as he tries to keep himself together. “Cum on my cock, need to f-fuck oh god need to feel it, baby. Know you’re close, angel just give it to me.”

That’s all it takes to send you flying over the edge. He holds you impossibly tight against him as you tremble and shake, his pace not faltering even once. He’s on cloud fucking nine with you whimpering and moaning his name while your walls pulsate and choke his cock. His breath is hot and humid against your sweaty skin, panting as he tries to stave off his own release for as long as possible.

“Fuckin christ, babygirl” he growls, as he fucks you through it, not giving you a single chance to catch your breath. “That’s it, such a good fuckin girl. Just like that. Keep squeezin’ me just like that, angel”

Even with the way you're milking his cock, squeezing him for all that he’s worth, he thinks he could last for at least another minute or two. That is until you snake an arm up and reach blindly behind you, your hand immediately finding his hair, fingers locking around the tousled strains and pulling. He chokes out a gasp, the tingling sensation traveling from his scalp all the way down to the base of his spine. His hips stutter and he can only handle a couple more uneven thrusts before he pulls out. His cock twitches where it’s pressed against your lower back as he spills hot ropes of cum onto your skin with shameless, breathy whimpers. He keeps rocking his hips with small movements, grinding his cock into the wet mess on the small of your back, extending the euphoria until his limbs are jerking from the sensitivity.

His forehead is pressed against your neck once again, his warm breath diffusing down your back as he pants a breathless “Jesus christ.”

You hum weakly next to him, melting in his arms as you sleep starts to creep back into your body once again. He keeps holding you tight against him as you both catch your breath.

“Were you awake that whole time?” you ask quietly after a moment of silence. Joel chuckles and squeezes you even tighter in his arms.

“Mhmm. Told you you were moanin’ in your sleep”

Even with his eyes closed in the dark room, he can see the frown you’re sporting clear as day in his head. You try to turn over to look at him, but he keeps you in place.

“You have work in the morning, why didn’t you say anything?” you ask. “Could’ve made things more comfortable for you, I know your old-man back doesn’t like my mattress.”

Joel rolls his eyes and pinches your thigh, making you yelp and giggle.

“Couldn’t be more comfortable than this even if I tried, sweetheart” he whispers. “Now go back to sleep.”

“Can’t sleep with the human fireplace glued to me” you whisper back. “And I’d love if I didn’t have cum stains on my sheet in the morning”

Joel rolls his eyes again but can’t suppress the stupid grin creeping up on his face. He reluctantly lets you go, sliding his arm out from under your neck and letting you roll over onto your stomach. He takes extra care to lift the blanket and pushes it down to your thighs, trying his hardest to not stain your precious sheets. You turn your head to face him, but your eyes are still closed, your face so sleepy where it’s squished against the pillow, your lips curved in a gentle, sated smile. His heart feels like it could burst right out of his chest.

He leans over to place a sweet kiss to your hairline before carefully crawling out of the bed. He hisses at the cool air swirling around his hot skin as he pads to the bathroom. He comes back with a damp washcloth and cleans you up and then himself before crawling back into the bed.

He pulls the blankets back up and makes sure you’re all tucked in before settling on his side, facing you. He doesn’t take you back in his arms, not yet. He’ll find you in his sleep. But he does hook one of his ankles around yours, the small amount of touch that you’ll always allow. Exhaustion is finally starting to settle into his bones as he studies your features like he’s going to be tested on them in his dreams. His eyelids finally feel heavy and he lets them close, his breathing quickly falling into a deep, steady pace.

He’s nearly fully asleep when he hears the soft sound of you whispering again.

“Oh and we’re gonna have to reenact the dream I was having when we wake up. Was really nice.”

Joel grunts, his cock already starting to stir once again. Who needs sleep anyway?

Thank you for reading :)) hope you enjoyed it!!

#Joel miller smut #Joel miller x f!reader #Joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #Joel miller #pedro pascal characters

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ikeuverse · 5 months

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MR. FUNNY GUY — l.heeseung

PAIRING: heeseung x fem!reader GENRES: fluff, humor WC: 3.8k+

WARNINGS: a few swear words, mentions of alcohol. yeji, sunghoon's sister, is portrayed in this fic as being of age, because there is a part that insinuates that she has been drinking.

SYNOPSIS: why was it so important to heeseung that you laughed at his antics? you hadn't felt the need he had to make you smile, to be the reason for your smile. a ride home was all he needed to understand your motives and talk to you about them.

NOTES: this came to me as a totally random thought and made me want to write it, without pretension. yes, konon is written as jake's girlfriend just because i wanted something totally different, and i've never seen anyone put her as the girlfriend of any of the boys. idk, nothing special, hehehe. i hope you like it!

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Every group of friends consists of having outstanding personalities or a representative for each thing among them. Heeseung could be the personification of the funny kid.

He had always been in charge of making the best jokes and making everyone laugh ever since he met his friends at the end of high school and the beginning of university. With Heeseung around, it was as if there was no sadness at all.

Even his attitude was that of a big, awkward, funny guy, which gave him even more credit for his antics.

Heeseung was responsible for making Jake stop crying when he got his first low grade in calculus at university. Not even his girlfriend was able to cheer him up, but Heeseung trying to prepare a smoothie and forgot to close the lid of the blender, causing all the fruit and mixtures to fly around the kitchen... Oh, that got a good laugh out of Jake. And a few curses from Jay, for sure.

Heeseung was also responsible for making Sunghoon and Yeji cry with laughter a week after their puppy went missing. She was crying and he said he would help his friends find her, even if their hopes were slim. Heeseung did find her, but that didn't stop him from coming back all wet and with mud all over his shorts because the dog had wandered into a garden and he ran with his life to rescue her. Telling that story out loud made it all worthwhile in the end.

What Heeseung never managed was to get many smiles out of you, Yeji's best friend. It wasn't as if you and she joined Sunghoon's group of friends very often, but when you did, you were the only one who stayed quietly in the corner of the room and didn't crack a smile when he made a joke.

At first, it didn't make much difference to him, not least because you only appeared occasionally and Heeseung only found out about you sometime later. Because you really were so quiet that you seemed almost invisible. But as time went by and Yeji attended more and more of the boys' meetings – even more so after she and you made friends with Jake's girlfriend – Heeseung didn't want to admit it, but he started to feel a bit insulted.

Why weren't you laughing at his jokes? Why didn't you crack a single smile at his antics in front of his friends? You were supposed to hate him, in Heeseung's mind. That was the only explanation for why he never saw a single curved movement of your lips.

"Relax, man" Sunghoon said one night when the two of them were in the kitchen preparing the popcorn for the movie. "Yeji said that Y/n is like that, very closed," he took a larger bowl to pour the contents into, placing it next to another in case he needed a spare. "She took a while to open up to the girls, so maybe it's nothing personal."

So it would seem. Heeseung thought, rolling his eyes as he tried to forget about it and focus on the movie night they all had together.

A whole month passed and he tried not to focus on the thought that you didn't like him, because if that were the case, Heeseung would have gotten there first. He knew everyone there before you did, so if you didn't like him, you might as well not hang out with them anymore and just be friends with Yeji and Jake's girlfriend.

But no, that night what he wanted to happen happened. And without expecting much, without creating any expectations that you would smile at him.

"What are you three doing?" Sunghoon approached and ruffled Yeji's hair, hearing his little sister grumble and curse him for it.

"Trying to make sushi at home" she huffed "But Konon's the only one who can, and she gives the hardest tasks to me and Y/n to do."

"Come on, I think we're doing fine," you said, avoiding looking at Konon because you knew she was laughing at the two of you.

You held up a hot roll you had just rolled, hoping it wouldn't fall out of your hand and spill all the rice. Your eyes met Sunghoon's and then looked at Heeseung, who was standing in the kitchen doorway.

"You're doing a great job," Sunghoon complimented.

"Yeah, long and crooked... Looks like Sunghoon" Heeseung pointed to the hotroll in his hand, and he almost shouted when he heard the sound of your laughter.

It wasn't possible what Heeseung's eyes were seeing at that moment. You. Laughing and then smiling at him... Did that really happen?

Sunghoon abruptly turned to Heeseung as if he was thinking the same thing. Of course, he and the boys were the only ones to hear Heeseung's lament that you never smiled at anything he did. But now it had just happened.

And he wasn't sure if he wanted to see it again, because strangely Heeseung's heart was pumping in a way that he wasn't happy about. Not to mention the fact that, apart from thinking about your smile and the sound of your laugh for weeks, the boy wasn't proud to say that he had dreamt about it.

Was it stupid to say that he had actually dreamed of your smile? Shit, that couldn't be possible.

"Heeseung!" Jake shouted to get his friend's attention, snapping his fingers in front of his face.

"Fuck, what a fright" Heeseung wriggled in his chair "What's wrong?"

"I've been calling you for about five minutes, what world were you in?"

"In the world where Y/n keeps smiling at him" Sunghoon hummed.

Fucking bastard... How did Sunghoon have to be so direct like that? All right, his friends knew and couldn't stand to hear Heeseung fantasize about it for weeks, but hearing it out loud from someone else made him feel like a bit of an idiot.

"In my defense, I'm still in shock about this" he tried to say, hearing Jay's laughter from across the room.

"Still? How long has it been... like, three weeks? A month?" he asked, already knowing the answer. If Heeseung were to count, it had been a month and a few days, because every month the girls tried to make a different food. And he distinctly remembers his skills – not unlike Konon's – in rolling the seaweed into sushi.

"Do you like her?" Jake sprawled further back on the sofa, almost throwing his legs over Heeseung's lap. Sunghoon was sitting on the floor staring at the TV while the movie was still playing.

"What? No" he said too quickly, regretting it the moment all the boys' eyes landed on him.

"Dude, you literally went to great lengths just to make her laugh for you" Jay got up from his chair to walk over to Sunghoon and sit down next to him on the floor.

"And when that happened, you didn't stop talking about it the whole time," Jake added.

"I said you could all make me stop talking—"

"We don't want to, it's cute" Sunghoon smiled "Besides I think it happened a few more times after sushi night."

"What?" it was Heeseung's turn to shout, startling Jake who was cursing at him quietly as he curled up on the sofa.

At that moment Heeseung was standing in the living room, pacing back and forth near the TV and watching his friends with mixed feelings. Jake was still recovering from his shock, Sunghoon was pressing his lips together, feeling guilty for saying it just then. While Jay held in his laughter and closed his eyes to wait for the conversation to unfold.

"You're just telling me about this now? Fuck Sunghoon, what do you mean?"

"Dude, I'm sorry" he said, "It's just that you got so excited about it that if I told you she smiled a few more times, you might explode."

"I'm exploding right now" from the coloring of his face, it could be possible.

What do you mean you smiled at Heeseung or something related to him and Sunghoon didn't say anything at all? Now he wanted to know, what was the occasion? Had he done something funny, said something at the wrong time, or made a joke? Or did you genuinely smile just because he was around? What had been the circumstance in which you smiled at him?

"All your gears are turning at the moment and I think it's my fault" Sunghoon got up from the floor, straightening his pants and then sighing, "But she smiled at times when you weren't looking."

"Why?"

"Look, I know your mind because I've lived with you for years, but I have no idea what she was thinking about it" Sunghoon's words had a unique effect on Heeseung. He was even more pensive.

"Yeah, he's right" Jake said.

"You too..." Heeseung then turned to Jay.

"Dude, we talked about this for hours and worked it out together," he defended himself, cringing when the other threatened to approach.

"Hey, calm down!" Sunghoon held him by the shoulders even though he knew his friend would do absolutely nothing to any of the three "Now that you know, you can do something about it."

"Yes, kill the three of you."

"Or talk to her and ask why" Jake shrugged and stood up, giving his best smile in response "Now how about we order something to eat? I'm starving."

"No, no more drinks for you today, young lady" Sunghoon snatched the glass from Yeji's hand, listening to his sister's protests even though she was already a little upset.

"But hey, we're celebrating" she tried to catch it, but to no avail, her older brother was taller and would surely use that to his advantage.

"Celebrating what? The loss of your liver?" Heeseung looked around at the number of glasses on the kitchen counter.

He sighed as he imagined that the owner of that house would have an extremely difficult time cleaning up, but his thoughts were soon cut loose by the sound of laughter that flooded the room. His body went still and his eyes widened at the sight of your standing in front of the kitchen door.

"Hey, Heeseung, you look like you've seen a haunting" you waved at him, smiling briefly and then turning your eyes back to the Park siblings.

"He just heard something" Sunghoon added.

Not knowing what it was, you didn't bother asking him and just walked into the kitchen where the three of them were still standing.

"What's going on?" you asked.

"Yeji's already drunk, so let's go home."

"But she's celebrating," you pouted "It's not every day you get an A in Professor Choi's class."

"The worst professor at that university" Yeji picked up a glass to raise and pretend to toast, then put it back on the counter.

"But you've had enough, so I think you'd better go home" he looked at his sister and then at you "Has Jake taken Konon yet?"

"They just got home, Jay told me as soon as I came into the kitchen" you looked around for something to drink "And you two, what are you doing here?"

Sunghoon had gone after Yeji before he left and Heeseung had been in charge of looking for you, so the two of them could take you home safe and sound. But he didn't want to say that out loud.

"We came after you two," Sunghoon replied.

"Okay, let's go" Yeji whined "I won't be able to finish my drink anyway."

"Not even if we just have one more beer? It'll be quick and—"

"Nope" Heeseung stood in front of you when you threatened to approach the fridge. Looking up thanks to his height, this was the closest he had come to you since you two met.

It might have been the effect of the drink or the moment itself, but he looked glistening and that had – strangely – made your heart flutter.

Blame the drink, blame the drink, please.

"Come on Y/n, these two dullards don't know what fun is" Yeji pushed past Heeseung, ignoring his protests as she grabbed you by the arm and pulled you out of the kitchen.

"That's it man, a few more moves and you two would be kissing in this kitchen" Sunghoon held Heeseung by the shoulders without missing an opportunity to tease him.

He acted on instinct to stand in front of you so that you wouldn't advance into the kitchen, right? He also ignored the distance between the two of you because he miscalculated his steps and Sunghoon was right to say how close you and Heeseung were. But those thoughts had to be pushed aside as quickly as possible.

And that happened when Jay's voice echoed in Heeseung's ears, standing next to his friend's car.

"Can you take Y/n home?" he asked. Heeseung didn't want to show his shock, but the orbs almost popping out in the expression that caught him off guard made Jay laugh right away "I've had a few drinks and I certainly won't be able to drive."

"But—"

"Take her and come back for me" Jay handed Heeseung the keys to his car.

"Why don't you just go along? I can drop you home later."

"Because I'm not finished here yet" Jay's lips protruded forward in a pout, he took a few steps away from Heeseung, nodding and smiling at his friend "And I don't want to witness anything pornographic in my car. Unless I'm the one doing it," he shouted the last part and Heeseung turned sharply in the direction you were with the Park siblings.

He would have given anything at that moment for you to be so drunk that you hadn't heard any of the shit Jay had said so far.

"Where's Jongseong going?" Yeji asked when he saw the boy disappearing among some people in the garden of the house.

"He said he didn't finish whatever it is in there" Heeseung sighed "Come on Y/n, I'll take you home."

None of you missed the mischievous giggle that escaped from Yeji, soon to be joined by Sunghoon. Heeseung knew very well about his friend, but why did his little sister even seem to be complicit?

"Do you know where I live?" you asked so naturally that Heeseung had forgotten how serious you were whenever you were around him.

"No, but you can tell me while we go in Jay's car," he said, and you just agreed and let him guide you to the vehicle. Neither of you cared what the Park siblings said as you and Heeseung walked to Jay's car. He showed himself to be a tremendous gentleman by opening the door for you and checking that everything was okay until you buckled your seatbelt so he could close the door and turn the car around.

"Can we go?" he asked and you nodded, giving Heeseung the coordinates so he could get to your house.

For Heeseung, the silence was necessary while he reorganized his thoughts because, for the first time, he was in a place alone with you. That had never happened since the two of you met.

Now for you, the silence was agonizing because it made you think and observe. To think about how hard you'd tried to get away from that man next to you and to observe how well he drove. His hands firmly gripping the leather of the steering wheel, his long fingers drumming now and then when they stopped at a traffic light or how agile his hand was at holding the gearshift. You also found yourself swallowing when his hand accidentally hit your leg when changing gears. He wasn't doing it on purpose, you knew that, but it was inevitable not to smile quickly.

"We're here" he was the first to break the silence, indicating that he had followed your coordinates very well, and now the two of you were parked inside Jay's car and in front of your apartment complex.

You looked out of the window, a sigh escaping your lips as you looked back at the boy in the car sitting next to you.

"Thanks, Heeseung" you said sincerely, opening a smile when his eyes met yours. Heeseung smiled too, but he didn't look so happy about it. He seemed... Annoyed?

"Can I ask you something, Y/n?" he said just like that, not even bothering to respond to your thanks. But you didn't mind either, after all, your sobriety was starting to kick in, but even so, your alcohol-addled body made you more curious than usual.

"Anything," you said.

It took him a while to formulate that question, pondering whether he should really ask it or just let it go and get on with his life as if it didn't affect him. But it certainly did. Heeseung knew why he had dreamt it, he had to ask.

"Why haven't you ever smiled at me?" might seem like a silly question from the outside, or even sad if the person was as sentimental as Heeseung.

At first, your eyebrows drew together in surprise. But then everything relaxed and you unbuckled your belt to turn around and face the boy.

"What do you mean?"

Heeseung repeated your gesture a few seconds later, unbuckling his belt and turning to face you too.

"I mean, ever since we met you've never smiled at anything I've done," he shrugged, trying to sound firm in his words, not wanting to waver or show how ridiculous it might seem "Surely Yeji has already let it slip that I'm the clown of the group and, I don't know, you're the only person who's never given me a single smile."

"Does that bother you?"

No. He should answer, to appear tougher.

"Yes, a little" Heeseung didn't want to follow his thoughts, he wanted to act on the emotion of the moment "I thought you didn't like me or, at worst, thought I was so dull that you begged the girls to get away every time we met in a group."

He was being so honest with you, opening up so genuinely that you felt a little bad. Maybe your way of acting on everything you'd heard hadn't been nice, you might have been a bit extreme with it.

"I'm sorry" was all you managed to say, without knowing exactly why you were apologizing. Whether it was for your reaction or for never getting to Heeseung and wanting to get to know him.

"Why?" he asked.

You didn't want him to ask, so you wouldn't have to explain yourself, you'd get out of the car and drive away. But Heeseung's sparkling eyes seemed to call out to you every second, guiding you to him as if you belonged there, staring at him as the words came freely out of his mouth.

"We have a group of friends at college and certainly Yeji's brother and his friends are sometimes a topic," your gaze quickly shifted to the window behind Heeseung. Anything being more interesting than his eyes paying attention to you right now "I once commented that... Well..."

"Say, it's okay," he tried to encourage you and you looked back at him, could blame it on the drink if something got out of hand, and would say the next day that you didn't remember anything you were saying. Even though by then your sobriety had reached more than half of your body.

"I told I thought you were very handsome" you nibbled your lower lip and continued, not even giving Heeseung time to process the information "A friend of ours said that you were not only handsome but funny, but that was a danger."

"What? Why?" he tried to shake off the tingling feeling in his chest and his cheeks heating up at the confession. So you thought he was handsome from the start.

"Have you ever heard of the theory of the funny boy being a danger?" you crossed your arms and snorted when Heeseung denied it with a nod "He'll make you laugh so much, you'll laugh. Laugh and laugh until you're naked in his bed."

It was his turn to laugh, hiding his face with his hands and messing up his hair.

"Shut up, don't laugh," you groaned in frustration, uncrossing your arms and trying to push his hand away from your face. The contact was electrifying, even if it only lasted a few seconds. Heeseung uncovered his face and looked at you.

"So Yeji's friend said that about me, and you believed it?" Heeseung wanted to sound confident as he raised an eyebrow, even though, if he had to get out of that car, his legs would be as soft as jelly.

"Well..." a few seconds passed and you sighed, "I avoided contact so I wouldn't have to believe it. I don't know, preserve myself as much as possible since you seem to be well known at the university."

"So you didn't want to smile at me because you thought you'd end up in my bed?" Heeseung leaned forward a little, looking a little defiant. You leaned forward too, your hands resting on your lap.

"You make all the girls smile, what difference would it make if I smiled at you?"

Don't be so honest, Heeseung thought to himself, but it was already done when he launched into it.

"Maybe because your smile is beautiful and when that happened on sushi night, I ended up dreaming for a long time."

"What? Did you dream about my smile?" you almost shouted in the car.

"Too many questions for one night, don't you think?" Heeseung pretended to shake himself, looking for the car keys that he hadn't even taken out of the ignition. Turning on the air conditioning might be a good idea since neither of you made any mention of leaving.

"Too many confessions for one night" you leaned back in your seat.

"I think we're going to need a few more nights for you to tell me more" he also leaned back in his seat, but his head remained turned in your direction.

"Are you asking me out on a date?"

"Would you?" he asked back, a stupid – but extremely beautiful – smile adorning his lips as he said again, "I want to prove that friend of yours completely wrong."

"I'd love that, then" to his surprise, asking you out had been completely light-hearted. He didn't feel like throwing up or running away, or even saying something silly, stuttering... Nothing. Heeseung was just himself as he watched you bend down to him and brush your lips against the corner of his.

From the way Heeseung's head was tilted, giving indications that he wasn't going to move, you purposely kissed him on the corner of the lips, pulling away before he made any risky moves.

"I'm waiting for a message from you so we can make an appointment, mr. funny guy."

You winked at him, watching as the tip of Heeseung's tongue traced the exact spot where your lips touched the corner of his. The smile never left him as he watched you open the door, wave, and close it to leave.

A smile had never left Lee Heeseung like that.

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