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cherry-leclerc · 5 months

Text

cherry cola ☆ op81

genre: smut, humor, yearning, tiny bit of fluff, virgin!reader, innocent!reader, experienced!oscar, sub!reader (for a while!), dom!oscar (for a while!)

word count: 8.5k

After a painful break up, Oscar finds himself head-to-head with an enticing girl, filled with pure innocence. Also known as, his parents secret weapon, and his worst temptation.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...f!receiving, fingering, brief mentions of masturbation, face riding, missionary sex, doggy style

inspired by this !

cherry here!... hellooo anons, long time, no see haha sorry for the lack of posts, but hopefully this makes up for it, somehow? formal apology for my last post too while we're at it. though this fic is inspired by cola by lana del rey, it will not have a sour ending like past fics (iykyk). missed u all, so here ya go! enjoy :)

There is an apprehensive sensation that towers over him as soon as she walks in; shy mannered, tall, and firm with a hint of hesitation—it’s something he adores about her, but also something that has him feeling jittery. Oftentimes, her lips are his most prized possession, enjoying the way they move. All except at this very moment.

Everyone notices his bitter, broken, and quiet mood despite always laying low. He’s never been one to share his problems with others, and he most definitely was not going to start now. It should be the best moment of the season—his first win—but he doesn’t have the joy to celebrate it with anyone.

Oscar’s brown eyes are low and dull; empty. He’d be a damn liar if he said he didn’t see any of this coming. If he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt and misery. Should he have been more attentive, a better boyfriend, then he wouldn’t be regretting his life choices. Dramatic, but true.

“How are you spending your summer break? Are you and Lily traveling?”

The Australian tries to scoff at the innocent inquiry beaming from his teammate, but he settles with a wince, not being able to hide it. “She, um…we broke up, actually.” He’s never been a religious individual—has never even set foot inside a church—but for the first time in his life, he prayed no more questions would be asked.

Lando raises his thick brows, clearly surprised by the sudden confession. Sure, they were a private couple—likely the most in the entire paddock—but he never saw this coming from Oscar and Lily. Though he only met her a couple of times, simply exchanging a kind greeting, he would’ve bet his entire Rolex collection that the couple were smitten with one another. “Ah, I’m sorry, mate.”

The rude sound of his race suit being zipped up harshly makes the Brit flinch in the slightest. “Don’t worry about it. That’s life, no?”

Costa Rica—they were supposed to go to Costa Rica. Instead, now, he sits alone on a flight back to his home country. He’s ecstatic to be sleeping in his childhood room with outdated posters hung of all his favorite drivers, but the feeling lingers.

Sprawled like a koala, humid t-shirt pressed against his skin, he tosses and turns for an estimate of five whole minutes. He should be enjoying the beach, sipping on highly sweetened margaritas, getting the worst tan of his life, but he’s here. The hot summer air in Melbourne makes him spit out a string of dirty curses that would send his mum into a coma.

The brunette might as well be an only child since not a single one of his three sisters were here to keep him company, ditching him with his parents. He loved them, of course he did, but a full house was his ideal way to spend his break. His home gym isn’t even enough to help him forget, even for a second.

“Dinner is ready, honey,” Nicole announces, peeking carefully through the crack of the door. She grins widely. “There’s even pavlova—your favorite.”

He forces a polite nod, shaggy hair dangling just above his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll be out in a bit.” It actually takes a sum of thirty-minutes for him to jog down the stairs, a strong scent of apple expanding from his now washed hair. His dad hums as soon as he spots the McLaren driver.

“It’s rude to leave guests waiting, Oscar,” he warns with a deep voice.

The twenty-three year old assumes it’s a lame dad joke, perhaps, so runs along with it, taking a good look around the dining room. “Won’t happen again. I showered—”

“Where would you like to place the dessert, Mrs. Piastri?” a soft voice echoes down the hallway as he turns at the unfamiliar tone. You halt, caught off guard by the new presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you would be here.”

“In my own home?” he finds himself squeaking involuntarily. The stern look that dances across his parents faces is enough for him to bite down on his tongue. He doesn’t even know why he said any of that—especially to a stranger.

They introduce you two quickly, though you’re just as fast as to say that you obviously knew about his existence. Do you follow my races? You shake your head, glossy hair shining. “I work for your parents, so…I sort of know. Plus, your sisters always talk highly about you when you’re gone.”

He blinks. “You work here?” Brown eyes flicker to his parents, confusion written all over. “What could she possibly do?”

“Oscar,” Nicole scolds. “I thought you left all the unnecessary questions back in junior high.”

Chris slides a large hand over her smaller one, calming her down just a tad bit. The older man sighs. “You know your mum, always looking for something new to do—”

“I wanted to grow a garden!” she squeals, delighted. “Like in all those magazines you get me for my birthday—oh, so lovely, honey. Only I realized, I don’t know anything about gardening.”

“And this lovely girl standing right here is a total natural. Her hands must be magic.” Oscar blushes hard at his dads choice of words. “She’s helping us out for the time being. Until we get back.”

The Australian's mouth opens, then snaps back shut, swallowing. “Get back from where?”

“Costa Rica!”

He gapes. “You’re using my tickets?”

Nicole winces. “Can’t let them go to waste, honey…”

His father butts in. “How is Lily by the way?”

The brunette groans, running his hands through his waves. “How should I know? Come on, you guys can’t be serious.” The tickets weren’t the problem; the fact that they were leaving was. He spots you awkwardly placing the pastry down onto the table. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Yes, of course,” you quip, glad to have a reason to flee far enough away from the premises. You turn to the Piastri’s who smile fondly at your understanding. “I’ll be out in the garden.”

As soon as you rush out, the twenty-three year old turns swiftly. “I guess I’m leaving too.”

“Don’t you dare, Oscar Jack Piastri—” He fumes. “Why not? You’re all going to be gone!”

“She won’t—you are keeping her company.” She’s not asking; she’s demanding. Staring back in shock, the McLaren driver avoids eye contact, fidgeting like a kid at their first day of school. His mum stands up, makes her way over, and pecks his soft cheek. “She’s a sweet girl. She won’t be a bother—she’s just down the hallway.”

That’s where Lily would always stay back when they first started their relationship; too afraid of making a bad impression on his parents. He found it adorable. He rolls his eyes and releases a heavy breath. “Fine.” He stares out the glass window, focusing on where you patiently sit on the wooden bench, delicate hands pressing your dress down against your thighs. “Fine...”

The following morning, his parents wake him up at the crack of dawn, bidding goodbye. It comes as a total surprise, thinking he had a few more days left with them, but no. He’s barely registering any of it before they whisper inaudible nonsense and scurry out of his bedroom.

After some debating, he changes and decides to go on a quick run. The sight of Ms. Alleck watering her burnt grass makes him smile as he sets off. It would have been easier to not get as tired if it were a slight bit chilly, but it’s blazing hot. He cuts it short, dashing back home and immediately serving himself a glass of cold water.

“You’re up early.”

The brown eyed boy jumps in sudden surprise. Standing in a pastel yellow sleeping gown, you grin brightly. Long lashes lay flat, nose pinching rosy pink, and breath minty. “Yeah, my folks sort of woke me up. Couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“Oh.” You pout. “They left already?”

“You knew?”

“Yup. They mentioned it last night before bed.” A beat. “I hope me staying here isn’t making you uncomfortable…it’s just that they offered, and—”

“It’s not.” Lie. “Make yourself at home.”

Not much is seen or heard from him for the majority of the day; occasional glaces coming here and there. They put you in an uncomfortable spot yesterday—you had been working on the garden for a year now, damn it—but their son's demeanor took you by surprise. The pictures and stories were something you relied on as the only source of getting to know him: polite, tall, and swanky—boyish.

That was so far from the truth. Oscar Piastri has grown into his body; almost appearing to be a handsome giant. Despite his warm face, his attitude is a bit snarky. He has no problem in saying what’s on his mind. And he is most definitely not a boy.

He’s a man.

“What do you say?”

“Sorry?”

He chuckles, Adam's Apple dancing up and down. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

It wasn't his intention to try and get close to you—not purposefully, at least—but he thought; why not? Who knows when his parents are coming back, when his sisters would, and he wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t some snotty guy. Summer is summer, after all. A friend to spend it with sounds quite nice.

Pursing your red lips, you nod, setting your book aside. The dinner table is already set up. Chicken and rice. That’s it. Given, it looks and smells amazing, but plain. You quirk a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to eat your greens? To drive quicker?” He burns up at you teasing tone.

“I didn’t want to risk burning the house down. We’re lucky I was able to get even this done.”

“Very well.” The refrigerator opens, colorful veggies staring back at him. You grin, slow and easy. “I’ll take care of it. It’s only fair, roomie.”

Oscar left home a few years ago, migrating to the United Kingdom for work, so it had been a while since he had stepped foot in his backyard. He faintly remembers his pirate treehouse, his sisters’ Barbie’s cluttered inside. It was a bone-chilling sight for baby Oscar back then, but now, the paint is chipping off, the wood looks a lot weaker. It’s a nostalgic feeling.

The new additions are stunning. A bunch of healthy flowers beam back at him and he swallows when he realizes he can’t name a single one. Waxflowers, Calamint, Dahlias, Peonies, Carnations, California Poppies. One by one, he admires with an open mouth. “They’re beautiful.” He turns to you with a proud smile. “You’ve done an excellent job.”

Pink feathers onto your already blushed cheeks, biting back a cheesy grin. You had decided to eat out on the bench, choosing to enjoy the now fresh air. Still humid, but less than before. The scent of coconut sunscreen makes his whiff constantly. “So…Costa Rica?”

He winces. It was too soon to talk about the situation, but something in your calm voice makes it easier to spit it out even though you probably already heard from his parents. All of a sudden, your savory carrots taste like complete shit. “T’was supposed to go with my girlf—my ex. My ex-girlfriend.”

You pout, sorrowfully. “Oh, I’m sorry, Oscar. I didn’t mean to…I had no clue.” And it’s genuine. Guess his parents weren’t complete traitors.

“Tell me—how long have you been working on fixing the garden?”

“Since last summer,” you hum, chewing down on a piece of grilled chicken. “This is the first time I have actually stayed here, though. Your parents are sweet. As soon as they heard that you were coming back home, they insisted I kept you company.”

Sharp jaw clenches and he scoffs. You simply blink back innocently. Then, he notices it. The way it reflects against the yellow ray of the now setting sun. He knows what it is, so he doesn’t ask. Too busy staring off into the distance, you place your plate down. “Let me show you a few other things I’ve been working on.”

There’s row and row, further into the open area; every twist and turn makes his brows raise up higher, impressed by the noticeable updates. Coming to a halt, he spins his head around, brown locks hitting his temples. “Since when do we have a cherry tree?”

You beam, orbs shining with excitement. “Since last summer!” you repeat, cheerfully. You pick one, handing it for him to try. An embarrassing moan erupts once the sweet nectar slides down his throat. “Good?”

“Bloody amazing.” Every compliment makes you squeal with delight. “My mum is actually allergic to cherries, so how…”

“She was actually the one who brought it up. Said she knew how much I loved them, and that I deserved a little something for flourishing her garden. I couldn’t deny the chance to do so.” You bite down on your lip, sheepishly. “They are my favorite.”

Reaching for one makes him look away as soon as your dress rises up, soft legs poking through. Bare feet press against the wet grass as you tippy toe. He mustered a fake cough, but as soon as you bite down onto the bloody fruit, he clicks into a trance.

Plump lips; thick and juicy. Long lashes fluttering shut against your glossy cheeks. That could have been because of the summer heat, but it affected him just the same. The familiar sensation of attraction rushes to his cock as he stands stiffly—but also loosely. He was loose. So fucking loose.

Something hits his cheekbones and it rips him away from his drooling. A singular seed now lays by his feet; indicating what you had done. A crinkled, wobbly smile shines back at him, hands nervously flattening your dress back down. The Australian jokingly lunges towards you as you squeal, backing away.

“You were disintegrating! I had to get your attention one way or another!”

Oh, you definitely got his attention. Giving you one final scowl, he stops his steps. “Everything—all of it—it’s great. Thank you.” The wind picks up and you shiver. “...for doing this for my parents.”

Neat hair flies against the breeze, covering your eyes for a minute. Pushing it aside, you scrunch your nose faintly. “Anytime.”

Technically, what you’re getting paid for was to watch over the beloved yard; that’s all. But you offer to do more. Mow the lawn? Paint the chipped wall? Wash the windows?

“God no, darling,” Oscar’s mum laughs through the end of the line. “You are doing enough already. Please. Relax.”

But you can’t. Nibbling on your thumb, you brush the counter, strolling past countless family portraits. A smile slips when you spot a toothless Oscar. “I insist.”

So, here you are; decluttering the attic. After a bit of bickering with Nicole, she eventually gives in and asks for a favor. Clean and tidy the small room. Easy peasy.

“Ouch,” you hiss when a nail digs through your skin, gore immediately pouring out of you like a waterfall; you squeak. Just then, a certain brunette peeks their head through the entrance.

“Oh good, it’s you. I thought we had an intruder.”

Raising a skeptical brow at him and the thin duvet, you quickly take it from him, pressing it down to ease the bleeding. “Holy crap, are you okay?” In one motion, he steps closer to you, analyzing the injury with worried eyes. You groan.

“It’s only a little cut. No biggie.” But the way your face is slowly losing color lets him know that your words aren't true. Brown eyes flicker, searching for a spot to sit, but everything about this is crowded. You were just about to start tidying; the mess was still there. Crouching onto a tiny stool, he takes a seat, somehow still towering over you. Or at least that's what it felt like, because suddenly, you felt suffocated.

His long legs are spread as you stand between them, hand out towards him as he winces at the brutal cut. “Ah—that’s pretty deep.” He gags when he notices the underneath flesh. You suppress a giggle. “We should go to the ER.”

You scoff, ripping away from his grip, tripping over a box. Regaining your balance, you drape the cloth over your hand once again. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be right back.”

After rinsing your hand with alcohol, covering the wound with the largest bandaid to ever exist, and balling your eyes out, you make your way back up. The Australian is drenched in sweat, huffing and puffing. “Got it,” he pants. Confused, you tilt your head to the side, but that’s when you pick out the nail in the palm of his hand. You blink, too bewildered to make sense of how he retrieved it without the help of a hammer. “I also found lots of old trophies. Extremely bittersweet.”

“Why’s that?” you hum, kneeling down next to him, reading through the labels. Each makes you more and more dazzled.

A minute passes by. “Because I grew up.”

“That’s…sad.” Shrugging, he digs for more. He laughs loudly, throwing his head back. “Dear G—I forgot this even existed!”

Oscar’s 81 Things To-Do During the Summer [List]

Learn how to bike.

Learn the Australian National Anthem (Sophie will be beautifully impressed)

Get better at being more outgoing (Mum is worried)

So on and so forth. “You were an extremely creative lad. Eighty-one things to do…eh.” A tongue click. “Possibly buy a pet dragon?”

He cringes. “Not all were realistic. I actually never really got around to it. Mainly added, if anything.”

Crimson red flashes. “I, um, I could tell.”

69. Oscar Piastri, you know what I mean.

The brunette chokes on his saliva, yanking it away as fast as he can. Standing up to his full height, he rolls up the piece of paper and points towards the exit. “I think I should, um…yeah. See ya.”

“Yeah.” He dashes off. “See you…”

Eighteen-year old Oscar was a horny bastard. But every guy that age is, so it’s not really fair to feel bad about his list. The writing is obviously his, but the things jotted down made him almost feel like it wasn’t. Blowjobs? Hand jobs? What was he thinking?

And then, there was you—a curious cat. He had to be a virgin; he just had to. Why else would he be embarrassed? You weren’t one to judge, though. You knew nothing about the sexual world, having never partaken. The thin band wrapped around your ring finger is enough proof.

And no—you weren’t married.

It would have been absolutely diabolical to mention sex in your household growing up. Being Roman Catholics is no joke, believing religiously to wait until marriage. You never had a problem with that; you would wait. Doesn’t mean you didn’t know what any of the common terms meant. Sort of.

Only now—for the first time in your life—there it was.

Temptation.

The McLaren driver was no newbie. He has had his fair share of experiences; before Lily, with Lily. He knew just about anything and everything. His good-boy act was no facade. At times he didn’t like that about himself, but it’s who he was. Obeyed the rules. Never crossed the line with anyone he wasn’t romantically linked to. And yet…

There you were.

The flowers were perfect; only needing to be watered. The cherry tree was much more…complicated. The chances of animals recklessly hunting for the sweet fruit was high, the chances of the red drupes rotting also was. Therefore, you spent most of your time there.

Maybe you were avoiding him; you told yourself you were already horrified at the dirty thoughts taking over like the plague. And perhaps he was doing the same; he had only been locked in his room for the past three hours.

Golden hour. With your hands on your hips, you squint, admire the polished drupes, tickling with water. Walking back to the bench, you lay down, picking up on your reading, occasionally taking sips from your Cherry Cola.

Pacing the small bedroom, Oscar mutters to himself. Maybe she didn’t read all of it. Maybe she doesn't know what it means. Yeah—he was exaggerating. Clicking his window open, he gasped for needed air. As soon as he spots you reading, he grunts.

White skirt brushes down your smooth legs, challenging the sun to see who shines the brightest. Lips wrap around the glass bottle, puckering in the slightest. And he wonders; would you taste as sweet as the cool beverage?

He’s a grown man; an adult. There’s no need to be uncomfortable. Sex was a part of everyone's day to day life. He was the one making it a bigger deal than it actually was. Still, he slips on a pair of sunglasses, perched perfectly onto the bridge of his nose.

“Is it any good?”

His voice makes you flinch, dropping the book flat on your face. A tiny groan rings through the air. Flashing him a weak smile, you sit up straight, fixing your clothes. “Want one? There’s plenty in the fridge.”

He had noticed, of course he had. Never in a million years did he think he'd see his refrigerator stocked up with the sweet drink. He never cared enough to ask who they belonged to; figured they would just expire.

Wavy hair swings back and forth when he shakes his head. “Gotta keep in shape.” I see, you murmur, loopy eyes peeking over at him, taking another gulp. The sizzling feeling is utterly childish compared to what he’s making you feel. The burning sensation between your legs is annoying and painful, you almost want to plead for help. “I meant the book, by the way.”

“No!” You laugh, nervously. “I mean…it’s alright?”

After he stormed off and left you a breathless puddle, you biked and biked—until you hit the local bookstore. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, simply browsing, but as soon as you reached the section of Erotic Literature, you stopped.

So many—many—wrong choices. Still, humiliated, you paid and fiercely ran out. Maybe this was some sort of punishment for reading what you’re reading; had to be. And Oscar asking questions wasn’t helping. Licking your berry lips, you swallow a thick layer. “What have you been up to?”

Fuck, he moans, large hand sliding up and down his cock; more and more pleasure intensifying. Your tiny dresses. Your short skirts. Your angelic face. The way your lips would separate before every sentence. Your sweet scent that would have normally given him a headache, but instead made him chase after you like a dog.

Finishing all over his thighs, he shudders. White liquid never looked more sinister than at this very moment. After changing, he paces the room with regret.

Pushing the frames further into his face, he hums. “Oh, you know. Just… cleaning up my room.”

It’s been a week in a half now and you’re happy to announce that you have fallen into a routine. While Oscar did his daily workout, you would make breakfast. While you worked on the garden, he cooked dinner. Though, he was unbeknownst over the way you would drool over him when he would walk out the door; a compressed shirt hugging his built body tightly, arms begging to be kissed. You were unaware of the way he would rub his face in desperation when you walked out, banging his head purposefully against the cabinet; the way you would skip out with your book and infamous drink, or how you would prettily tie up your hair before you even got started.

It was a mess.

A mocking mess.

This afternoon though, you aren’t flying out the door to the yard, but rather frolicking over to Ms. Alleck, ready to assist. I try my best, but they always wilt! Could it be the humidity? Laughing, you toss your hair up into a bun, messy strands poking out as you cock your head to the side. “Could be, but don’t you worry. We’ll find a way to make it work. Promise.”

He had always known you were kind, gentle, soft spoken…pure. And you doing this only added to his attraction. It’s salad, spaghetti, and salmon that afternoon. Sweaty, you pant. I’m going to squeeze in a shower real quick. But you weren’t sweaty, like you believe; you were glistening.

“This is so cute,” you chirp, sitting cross cross in the old treehouse. A few spider webs make your blood run cold, but he quickly took care of it, apologizing. The brunette blushes.

“I wanted to use it one last time. Before we get rid of it.” Neat brows furrow. “It’s just that it’s old—only a matter of time before it plunges down.” “What?��

“O-obviously not now!”

After a bit more convincing, you finally relax and enjoy the way the crickets sing against the night. Small feet press against the wall, white tube socks turning slightly brown from the lack of sweeping. For a moment, he shuts his lids, breaths shallow, body loose. The high temperature almost made him feel as if he was cuddling into the warmest blanket; it felt nice.

Whoops, you mumble when hollow glass pounds against the wooden floor. He perks up at the sound, brown eyes burning with high alert. “You do shit on purpose?” he screeches when he detects scarlet blood. Wincing in pain, you curl your hand towards the hem of your dress.

“Help me,” you plead, slight annoyance written all over your face. He must’ve broken the world record of running into the house to retreat the first aid kit, and running right back to you. The way he sanitizes the skin, to the way he wraps your hand with a gauze pad, is honestly hilarious.

“What so funny?” he murmurs, attention never leaving the wound.

“Mmm. Nothing.” He snickers and you giggle harder. “It just seems as if I’m making you a professional. You ought to be ready if anyone else needs your help to treat injuries.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll tell them a certain klutz made me learn from day to night with all her clumsiness.” His voice drops, laced with concern. “Seriously though—you were just healing. You have to be careful.”

Plump lips part with the sound of his delicate voice, accent almost disappearing. Wandering eyes admire the way his brows are knitted together and orbs soften. Swallowing, you nod. “I will.”

“Good.”

The once vibrant room is now hazy and suffocating. Does he not know what kind of effect he has on you? The type of power he holds? Oscar doesn’t seem to, though, with the way he chugs down his entire glass of water. Stuck in a trance, your hand briskly reaches out for your own drink. He roars with laughter, clutching his stomach. “You just broke your bottle, you don’t have a drink anymore.” He picked up the Cherry Cola you had offered, but he had declined. “Take mine.”

You don’t put up a fight, simply allow him to open and give it to you. The sweet drink doesn’t do a great job at hydrating your foaming mouth, but it helps as a distraction. On the other hand, the brunette can’t seem to not watch the ways your lips suck in and out, eagerly. As if this were the only source of air. He shudders.

“We should probably head down…”

Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you comply, already standing up. From the floor, he has a good view of your legs; long, soft, sweetly scented. He wonders if you use honey as lotion because that would explain his urge to nuzzle his face against them. Picking up the broken glass and plates, you turn back. “Coming?”

A sigh rings through the air once, and suddenly—he’s cradling your face with high intensity and lust, molding his lips against yours. Tomato sauce stains his shirt and your dress from the plates that still remain between you two. One second, you're wide eyed, and then the next, you're allowing yourself to kiss him back.

You want to cry with how pleasant the feeling feels and he wants to scream with how much he wants to fuck you. But alas, one of you pulls away first—you can’t really tell who— and you’re both left gasping for air. Completely winded and fucked.

You both are fucked.

The treehouse comes crashing down the day after your first kiss. Yes, first kiss. You would like to blame him and say that he stole it from you, but the arousal that was dripping between your thighs last night was a clear indication that you could never actually say so because you liked it so much.

The wooden house tearing down is something you take as a sign; you’ve sinned. Okay, maybe that was a bit too dramatic, but you were honestly thinking about it. That night you dreamt of the wildest things imaginable; his pretty face in between your legs, large hands squeezing your perky breasts, fingers swirling inside your velvety walls, cock tearing you in half.

It was unacceptable.

So, while Oscar worked on picking up the tiles with a hometown buddy, you marched right over to beg for forgiveness. Kneeling down against the cushion, you say a silent prayer.

I don’t want to think like this—not when I know I can help it, but God this is getting way too out of hand. And you know I’m not like this, you know that! But he just—AGH. Maybe it’s his personality that makes him so attractive, or maybe it’s his sudden growth spurt, but please let me get a hold of myself. He’s just a friend, he’s just a friend—HE’S JUST A FRIEND.

“Would you mind keeping your words to yourself, sweetheart?” an older lady whispers, two rows ahead of you.

Pink feathers onto your cheeks. “Oh, yes, of course! I’m so sorry…”

I don’t ever ask for much, no, that’s never been necessary, but I am now. So please. Hear me when I say: Push this desire I have, far, far, far away.

If you were to say, there was a ninety percent chance that you would walk away. Not even spare him a passing glance. He would call you out on it later, but whatever—too late. Ignored you, you say? No, really I did? I had no idea, I’ll make sure to not let it happen again!

If Oscar were to say, there was a ninety-nine percent chance that he would let you walk away. He didn’t need your company; he was doing just fine. But then again, that one percent tugs at him like the devil on his shoulder.

“Hey. You’re back.” Cool. Calm. Collected.

“Oh! I suppose I am.” Cool. Utter. Mess.

He grins, eyes crinkling like the leaves that hang upon the crimson tree. Signaling up, he cocks his head in deep thought. “Just finished. Cole said his uncle could shred…” A pause. “He owns a massive wood chipper.”

Blinking like a deer in headlights, you chew on your bottom lip, simply nodding along. “Sounds good? I think. No. Yes. Very good.” You wince at all the uncontrolled mumbo-jumbo. “I’m sorry I was no help, too. I had to…talk to the man up above.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. That must be why your pretty little knees are bruised.”

Your breath comes to a harsh halt, ears burning like a wildfire. The Australian just keeps his brown eyes set on the tree for a second longer before turning to face you. Quickly, you relax your muscles. “You could make up for it by helping me with something else.”

You gulp. Suddenly, your mouth is overflowing with hot saliva. “With what?”

Dark orbs glue onto your delicate figure, a slight smirk playing out. And it looks so unfamiliar, not his own, that you create a distance. And just like that, it’s gone. Vanished just as fast as it slipped onto his pink lips. “Get on.” He crouches down and your jaw drops.

“Wha—like onto your shoulders?” Rolling his eyes in a goofy manner, he nods, picks you up safely, and places you on top. You screech, dizzy by the sudden altitude. “Put me down!”

“You’re fine. Just help me reach those. Been craving them all day,” he murmurs, voice raspy. The twenty-three year old is still slightly sweaty from his hard labor, and that’s clear when you cling onto his brown locks. Other than that, you’re as high as a kite; both figuratively and literally.

You’ve known—seen—how tall and broad the Australian was, but being perched onto his wide shoulders was a sweet confirmation you couldn’t help but enjoy. “Move a bit forward.” He follows instructions, wide hands gripping onto your thighs to keep you steady. You giggle when a few fruits hit your face. “Watch it—and don’t you dare drop me.”

“Get,” he commands.

About three minutes pass by. You rip the cherries carefully, candy aroma filling the air, and plop them onto the basket. By all accounts, you’re well aware of your actions. The basket was full, now overflowing, really, and you could plant your ballet flats back onto the tall grass—but you don’t.

There’s something about feeling his touch; high electricity, shock waves nipping at your skin, soft pants. It’s pathetic how much you crave any ounce of physical touch he’s willing to give you, unknowingly.

“That should be good,” you whisper, meekly. He doesn’t respond, just swings you down as you let out a yelp. All of a sudden, you’re magically magnetic. And he wonders; if only. You hand the basket over, waiting nervously for him to thank you, at least.

“Thank you,” he feels himself saying. “What do you say we play a little game? No prize. Only bragging rights.”

“O-okay.”

A singular cherry is handed over. He grins. Can you tie a knot using your tongue? “Wait—are you being serious?”

The red fruit dissolves inside his mouth, spitting the seed somewhere far enough away. Then, the stem flips into his mouth. “Come on. I’ll give you a head start.”

With wary hands, you rip the stem away from your own drupe, fitting the thin stick into your suddenly dry mouth. He stares intently, clenching his jaw, “Go on. Ten seconds.” Quickly, your lips start to move, twisting and turning. Pouting, then sucking back in. Your low breaths become heavy after a few tries. You think you’re getting it done right, the sudden ball forming is enough for you to guess that you must be doing something correct.

The sound of his low mewls is what ends you. Doe eyes flicker up to face him, paying close attention to how his brown eyes wander up at the sky in concentration, occasionally squinting due to the bright sun. You can feel a thin layer of sweat hug you like a blanket as your movements slow down; a snail's pace compared to before.

For good measure, you fake your twists as you continue to simply admire. Too far gone, you blink hastily when he sticks his pink tongue out towards you, a stinking knot sitting nicely atop.

“I won.”

Gulp. “You sure did. Good job, Oscar.”

Long lashes flutter shut momentarily, head tossed back, sighing. “It wasn’t a fair fight. You weren’t doing anything. Other than staring at my lips.”

Flustered, you dig your hand into the bucket. “That’s not true! At all. At all, at all.” You munch harder, splitting a seed in half. You spit it out sourly. “You're just better at using your mouth than I am.”

It goes straight to his cock, your words. Opening his eyes, the brunette scrunches his nose. You’re avoiding his gaze. You’re good at doing that. A pro. But it leaves him to wonder some more. And that itself was dangerous when it dawned on him.

He doesn’t like daydreaming anymore.

“Fuck it,” he grunts, kissing you harshly, like the night before. And you thought that blew your mind, but this? This left you gasping and reaching out for him even though he was pressed right against you. You could feel him buzzing, pinching your hips against his large hands. It’s perfect.

You don’t really understand how you end up straddling him on the grass, green straining your knees as you grind harder onto him, forcing your skin to burn with each stroke. This—this—must be as good as it gets. There can’t be more, but you weren’t complaining. It was enough.

When his fingers dance underneath your dress, you halt, and everything comes crashing down. “No,” you pant. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Why is that, baby?” he mumbles, lost on sucking the side of your neck. Looking up, his straight brows drew in together with concern. “What is it?”

“It’s just that…I’m—” Why is it so hard to admit? Brushing a strand of hair away, you purse your lips. “I’m a virgin, Oscar. It’s odd, I know, but I can’t sleep with you.”

“You think I didn’t know that?’

You freeze. “What?”

His thumbs circle your thighs, gently, swooning with how soft you feel. “I figured you were. Your purity ring sort of gave it away.” You blush hard, rolling off of him, playing with the thin band.

“I wish I could do this—God, I really want to—but I can’t.”

Respecting your decision, he pats your hand with reassurance. The hot feeling remained between your legs and the pain between his. This was torture, you both know that, but what was there to do? It’s awkward for a while, that is, until he starts asking you about things that shouldn’t make you glow with happiness.

How was your day? I want to hear all about it. Do you think it’s bad to eat an entire bucket of drupes? Must be, right? In the long run? Hey, would you mind teaching me how to garden? You make it look intriguing.

That seems to do it for you. Everything you ever promised flies out the window as you climb back onto his thick lap, and this time, he’s surprised by your actions. Clumsy fingers try their best to unzip his pants, but he only stutters against your kisses. N-no, we don’t have to rush anything. I, you, we—

“Shit, o-okay,” he sighs when you finally touch him, even in the slightest. He may be touch deprived, but so were you, so how far would any of this go? Flipping you over to lay against the tall grass, he winks teasingly and that effectively makes your heartbeat quicken. “Relax, sweetheart. Do that for me, yeah? Can you?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.”

The McLaren drivers press a kiss on the inside of your thighs before licking them. You shiver, though try your best to even your breaths. You shut your eyes, maybe if you act hard enough, you could somehow convince yourself that this wasn’t a war itself. To see how long you’d last. No—you would last. You had to.

“I’ve thought about it.” He slips your panties down, inch by inch. “A lot, as of lately. If you would taste just as sweet as I imagined. As sweet as those Cherry Cola’s you're overly obsessed with.” And he dives in, licking your arousal clean as you pant, chest heaving up and down like an erupting volcano.

What were you supposed to feel—relaxed? In a frenzy? Most likely the latter because considering the way he was making your head spin said it all. The sounds he’s making forces you to involuntarily shut your legs around his face and his hand that now lies between you two. The stretch is a burning sensation that leaves you both gasping and moaning; it’s too much, but not enough.

More. Grinning up from in between your legs, he shakes his head full of curls, all thanks to the Aussie weather, and your dirty foreplay. “Does it feel good?” You whimper. “Good—good, baby. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Velvet walls clench around his long digits. “Hey, hey, look at me.”

Once your soft orbs connect to his intoxicating ones, his cock grows harder. “Okay, listen, it’s going to hurt a little bit, okay? But that’s completely normal; it’s like a…a stingy feeling. Do you understand?” I do, you pant. He grits his teeth when his calloused fingers brush against your g-spot and your head lolls back, exposing your sharp clavicle. He itches to mark you all over. “Do you want it, then?”

A zing. “Fuck, Oscar. I fucking want you.”

The brown eyed boy is all over you, kissing you up and down, gripping you tighter. It was an addiction in its truest form. For a split second, you frown when he slips out of you, but as soon as he starts unzipping his pants, you feverishly lick your lips.

It dawns on you that you aren’t scared, nervous, or anything; you’re bubbling with excitement. You watch carefully as he jerks himself off a bit, his already large girth growing bigger. How is that possible? “I’ll start with the tip.” Leaning down, he pecks your pouty lips and you smile. “Let me know if it’s too much, we’ll stop and take a break. Or do anything, really,” he adds, cheekbones flushing red.

“I’ll be okay,” you whisper. “I swear.”

You were being skinned alive, it was excruciating pain. You know he notices it when he starts brushing your hips, hoping to comfort you in some sort of way. Heavy breaths, numb lips from biting too hard, exposed breasts arching straight for him. He didn’t know whether to enjoy this or worry.

“Breathe, darling, breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. There you go,” he congratulates, admiring your shaky breath. “You’re doing so good.”

“Osc, move…please.”

There was no more confirmation necessary that you were ready to go. His hips find motion, thrusting into you slowly. Nails scratch down his back as you moan loudly, almost yelping. “Y-you’re so big.” So, so, so, so big. “So good.”

Nearly animalistic, he releases a grunt, pounding deeper into you, getting lost with the way you hug him tightly. You mewl, pressing your naked chest against his, and he nearly slips from his hands being set on top of the cold grass, but it was beautiful torture, all at once.

From the way you tremble, to the way you look up at him, he loves it all. He realized it been too long, he’s missed this, he’s missed having a body undeaneath his, as fucked up as that sounds.

And he—he must be a saint, himself. There’s a sort of invisible halo that lightens up around him, nearly blinding you. There’s a gut-wrenching stare he’s gifting you, making your stomach churn with pleasure.

Wrapping his mouth around your sore buds, you let out a shaky sigh. Skillful tongue swirls the way one would suck on a lollipop; the heat intensifies. “Close?” But you’re not sure, you just know it feels good—ridiculously good. He must have known so, and must want to make your first experience the best you’ll ever have, because suddenly, you’re on all fours.

As he slips in and out with such ease, you grip harshly at the tall grass. You can hear the sad rips with every thrust and every tug, but how can you feel bad when he feels so good? His cock rapidly brushes the magic spot, and you’re left seeing stars. “Oh God. I feel it, Oscar, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Tell me. Describe it.”

Your jaw locks, and your arms give up, flying down towards the grass, round ass high up in the air as he continues his movements. He groans at the sight, slapping your sweaty skin. Whining, you look back at him, grinning from ear to ear. The Australian looks up at the open sky, trying his best to push back the feeling of his upcoming orgasm, but it's hard to ignore the fact that an absolute angel takes him like no other.

And an Angel you were.

“Can feel your cock, Oscar. The way it pulses—so thick, so veiny, so sweet.”

An Angel with a vocabulary of Heathen.

“God, fuck me harder, please, Oscar, please.” He’s pretty sure you’re half-gone, half-present, but it only adds to the lust he carries for you. Just then, you feel the fresh cherry pressed up against your lips. Open, he demands and you follow straight away, ripping it from its stem. You nearly choke on the seed when he suddenly speeds up, limbs and arms burning from holding upright. For a moment, you stare back with an open mouth, admiring over the way his abs contract with every brutal push.

“Now spit.” Two seeds fly out towards the grass, laying there to taunt you as you pick up on your moans, ringing through the air. If you squint hard enough, you can spot the stars that mock the daylight sky. It doesn’t make sense, but then again, none of this does. “So pretty, sweetheart.” You swoon, feeling his arms hold you down. “Again—open.”

You’re expecting another set of cherries, thinking this might be some sort of prize, but as soon as you feel the familiar stick, you pout. No, you cry out. He chuckles. “Yes.” A pause. “You only get to come until you tie a knot.”

“You’re not being f-fair, holy shit.” Long fingers rub slowly against your puffy clit, throbbing with pain, begging to come all of his numbing girth. You clench your jaw, eyes screwed shut.

“We don’t have all night, go on. Move that pretty little mouth of yours.”

It’s a mission, it’s a task, it’s a fucking wreck. It’s impossible. You’re not that surprised, though, not when he thrusts into with twice as much force, triple speed; what a man. Loose tongue swirls at a weak attempt, but then he pinches your swollen bud, and you’re back to square one. You’re nearly there, excited to prove to him how much you wanted this and how you were able to multitask, but then he’s pulling all the way back, only his rosy tip awaiting by your entrance, and he’s coming back down, full-throttle.

It was cruel.

But two can play that game, you suppose.

You pull away quickly, he blinks, and then you’re pushing him back, sprawled on the grass. He nearly whines from missing your warm cunt, but as soon as you climb to sit on his face, he grows more and more turned on. “Go on,” you push. “Use that pretty little tongue of yours.”

Dark eyes stare up at you, enjoying the way your body moves, hips rolling, riding his face at an impressive rate. The white nectar you're willing to spill out makes him lap at an embarrassing speed, desperate to taste the sweetness.

Meanwhile, you’re gripping his hair, trying to feign indifference with the way his nose rubs against your lips, the way he keeps you in place with his watch covered hand, the other playing with your clit. It’s even, this is fair, but you still needed to reach your end.

“I’m close,” you moan, head rolling back, but jaw continuing to tick. He hums and the vibrations cause you to squeeze your legs around his face. That seems to make him enjoy this far more. Unless you show me you’ve done it, then no, you’re not coming anytime soon. Your molars grind harder, white spots forming throughout your vision. “Shut up, just—fucking stop talking.”

“What do y’know? Miss Perfection has a potty mouth.” He pokes his tongue against your hole. “Dirty girl, eh?”

With one final suck, and one soft moan, you cum all over him. The Australian is quick to lick you clean, groaning pathetically deep. Gasping, you fall from your climax, slightly twitching with sensibility as he hauls you onto his lap. You giggle when he raises a teasing brow.

“You got away with it—this time.”

“There’s going to be a second time?”

He stiffens, trying to play it cool. “Well, not anymore, you didn’t do what I asked for you to do—”

Opening your mouth, you stick your red tongue out, displaying the most perfect knot. He gapes, sticking his fingers in to retrieve it. “H-how?” A beat, sharp and accusing eyes. “Seriously, how?”

“Does it matter?” you ask, wide eyes back on for show. “I did it.”

“I…yeah, yeah you did,” he repeats in disbelief. He laughs. “You’re wickedly talented. That's an art.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, slowly, mixed with a giggle. “I tried my best for you.”

“I see that.” The brown eyed boy pinches your hip. “How was it?”

Sighing dreamily, as if napping on a cloud, your eyes twinkle. “I get it now. Why people have casual sex, I mean. It was amazing. Thank you.”

Casual, casual, casual, yes. Of course this was casual, why wouldn’t it be casual? He’s not looking to have anyone new in his life, and you’re barely understanding what any of this is, so yeah. Casual.

“Was I bad?” you ponder, chewing on your bottom lip. “I know I’m no professional, but I—”

“You were perfect,” he reassures with a soft smile. “Best thing to come around, solemnly swear.” Swatting his arm, he snickers, catching your hand. You purse your lips. “I was right,” he murmurs when his lips graze over your own. You open your mouth, waiting for more.

“About?”

“You tasting as sweet as a Cherry Cola.” Then he connects your lips, and you’re left utterly smitten. You can hardly feel him slip your ring off, but you know so when your finger feels empty since the moment you first put it on. “Guess you won’t be needing this anymore?”

“Guess not, no. Keep it.”

“Could take it to a Pawn Shop, sell it for a couple dollars…”

“Hey! Be nice, you dimwit,” you warn. “You should feel special. Stupidly special.”

“I’m kidding. I’ll cherish it.”

“Creep.”

He groans, slapping your ass as you squeal. “There’s no right or wrong answer, it seems like. Very well, let's just leave it at thanks. So…thank you for trusting me.” You blush, looking away. Awkwardly, you reach for your dress, slipping it over your head. He coughs, dressing himself before choking back a much needed chuckle. “Looks like we got dragged through the mud.”

“Ah, ew, I can’t. I need to shower.”

Reaching your end of the hallway, you press your back up against the wooden door as you sheepishly giggle when Oscar does the same. “Okay then…see you around?”

“Around town?”

“Around the house.”

“In the garden?”

“In the attic, too, maybe. It still needs a good sweep.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do we still have time?”

“Before your parents get back from Costa Rica?”

“Yes.”

“Which is in—”

“A week.”

“Which is—”

“Seven days.”

“And roughly…”

“Enough time.”

“Enough time to do what?”

He laughs, eyes crinkling suggestively, and your heart pounds hard against your ribcage. “Come here and I’ll show you.”

“Yeah,” you ponder in deep thought before your lips stretch out into a bright smile of your own. He raises dark brows as you scurry over with bruised knees, a muddy dress, and an exploding heart. “Yeah, okay. Just until they get back.”

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pnutbutter-n-j-elyy · 3 months

Text

When They Call You Clingy So You Distance Yourself PT. 3 | Hyungline

Warnings: Cursing, Mentions of Suicide

Pt1, Pt2 Maknaeline

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BANGCHAN|

You ran your fingers through your hair as you walked up to your front door.

The past week had already been stressful enough. After arriving at the airport, you realized that somewhere between you getting off the plane and getting to your parents' car your phone had fallen out of your pocket. You had to attend a funeral, your flight home had been pushed back by a day, and you still had a shit ton to do before you moved. Not to mention it ate at you the entire week that you were gone all you could think about was the argument you and Chris had.

Overall you felt absolutely shitty and you just wanted to crash.

You unlocked your door and slipped your shoes off and walked into the kitchen and set your purse down. You had left your luggage in the foyer, and were contemplating how nasty it would be just to leave your things in there until you unpacked at your new place.

You made your way into your room and flicked on your light and gave out a quiet yelp when you noticed someone in your bed.

Your heart slowed slightly when you realized that it was Christopher in your bed, hugging the bear he bought you in Europe when he was on tour.

He was curled in a fetal position, and knowing his nature, you knew he must have been staying in your room the entire week you were gone.

Your heartbeat sped up as you walked over to him, knowing what confrontation awaited.

He whimpered quietly in his sleep. Sadly.

"Christopher." You whispered, shaking his shoulder slightly. He whimpered again and you could swear you heard him say your name.

He must be having a nightmare.

"Baby." You said shaking him awake, harder this time.

Chris startled awake and looked at you. He stared for a moment as if you weren't real.

"Y-Y/N?" He asked quietly.

"Hey-"

His chest collided with yours as he pulled you into an embrace, and you immediately felt his tears wet your shoulder.

"I-I'm s-sorry b-babe. I didn't m-mean any of it- I didn't pl-please d-don't l-leave me. I'll do any-anything. I'll qui-quit wo-working so I won-won't be stressed an-anymore. A-Anything I-I mean it-"

"Love, shhh. I'm not leaving you." You said as you stroked his hair. It felt gross, and he smelled a little stale, and he looked worn out overall. You could tell that he probably hadn't moved much all this week.

"Did you really stay in my bed waiting for me to come back?" You asked quietly. He let out a whine into your shoulder refusing to let you go.

"Chris, I promise I'm not leaving you."

"But the boxes..."

You chuckled and stroked his hair again. "I'm moving, yes. But not away from you. The neighborhood I live in isn't the safest, and I figured you would like it better if I moved closer to the dorms, so you didn't have to travel as far in the opposite direction of your home." Chris still held onto you, and you could feel the downturn of his lips pressed into your shoulder like a soft kiss.

"You didn't answer my calls...I thought you broke up with me..."

You sighed and pushed him away from you slightly and you could see his heart sink a little until you kissed the edge of his lips, his slight stubble exfoliating your own.

"While I will admit, what you said wasn't very kind of you...I know that isn't you." You murmured, caressing his cheek. His brown eyes were wide and sad but filled with hope. "I understand you were stressed, and I understand I can be clingy at times, but that's only because I have so much love and affection for you, I have to get it out in a physical way. Or else I might actually explode." You giggle as you pinch his cheek.

His eyes widen slightly, and he opens his mouth to speak but you press your finger to his lips.

"Let me finish. I didn't answer your calls because I lost my phone at the airport when I went home. My cousin's spouse took her life so I went to go attend the funeral. I wasn't informed until a few days before, so I went to the studio to tell you I was leaving." You let out a breath. "I also wanted to ask you while I was there is you could help me finish packing since I have to be moved out in two days."

Chris looked at you. "I'm sorry for your loss, baby. I'm also so-"

"Shhhhhh." You said placing a quick yet super soft kiss on his lips. "Thank you for your condolences. But don't apologize for snapping at me Chris. I already forgave you the minute you did it."

His bottom lip trembled, and he started to cry, little hiccups coming through as he still apologized, even though you knew he meant it when you said he didn't. He repeatedly apologized.

"You're too good for me." He said once he calmed down, his quiet sniffles and hiccups infrequent.

"And you're too handsome for me." You said as you kissed the tip of his nose.

"You're beautiful though. Way more than me." He said staring holes into you. "When we get married and have kids I want them to look exactly like you."

You laughed and shook your head. "They need your smile though, which I have yet seen you give since I arrived." Your voice held mock sternness as you tried to look serious but ended up letting out a loud chuckle.

He was finally able to give you and actual smile, and his adorable little giggle finally peeked through. You poked your pinkie in his dimple and he giggled again.

You ruffled his hair once and then made a face.

"You need to go shower, love." You said your nose wrinkling.

He pouted and wrapped his hands around you, laying his head on your stomach. "Mmmm, just a couple more minutes. Let me hold you."

You sighed, a smile on your face as you looked down at the boy you knew you would spend the rest of your life with. You scratched his head affectionately.

"Who is the clingy one now?"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

MINHO|

"Y/N!" Minho had been running around for almost an hour. His voice was hoarse and the wind was biting at him through his coat as he ran. Knowing your stubborn ass you had probably only left the hotel in a thin jacket, with one or two layers at most.

He took a second to catch his breath and looked around. "Y/N!"

He was about to start off in a different direction when his phone buzzed in his pocket.

"Did you find her?" Minho asked when he picked up a call from Jisung. All the members of both Stray Kids and TWICE were looking for you.

"Sort of? She asked me to go pick her up from in front of the Louvre - she said she lost track of time but she's too scared to-"

Minho started running again. "Thank you! I'll call you when I have her-" He hung up and felt his legs move faster than he thought was humanly possible.

Please God...Universe...whoever please just please let her be okay.

He arrived and he looked around for you. When he didn't see you he started to panic until he noticed your figure swamped in one of is hoodies hunched over on a bench dozing off.

"Y/N!"

You perked your head up and saw your boyfriend running towards you, his long coat nearly flying off his shoulders.

He stopped in front of you and you braced yourself for him to start yelling at you after he caught his breath.

But instead of yelling at you his pants turned into desperate weeps.

"Minho-"

He fell down on his knees and you quickly joined him on the ground.

"You-you scared me I tho-thought..." He couldn't even look at you.

"I'm sorry Minho, I didn't mean to...I..." Your voice was wobbly. You hadn't ever seen Minho cry before in the entire time you had been together. You didn't know how to comfort him, or what to say to get his cries to stop.

It made you want to cry how vulnerable he sounded. How weak and broken.

"Its not safe here. Anywhere. Thats why I was so scared." He whispered looking up at you, his eyes rimmed red. "One of the girls said they couldn't find you and I panicked. I've been running around for almost three hours."

You felt a pang of guilt strike you in your heart.

"I-I'm so-sorry..." You began to tear up as the pain of being mad at Minho seemed to hit you like a ton of bricks. You missed your boyfriend. "I'm sorry for being clingy too. I thought you wanted to be alone so I hung out with the girls...but I felt like maybe they'd think I was clingy too so I thought I would just spend today alone-"

"Y/N stop. First off the girls will never and I mean never find you clingy." He wiped his face and chuckled, a small smile forming on his face. "We were in a meeting last week and they were playing rock paper scissors over who gets to marry you. I told them that you were mine and Tzuyu said 'did you guys hear something?'"

He licked his lips and took a breath. "Secondly you don't need to apologize, Jagiya...all of this...this was my fault. I shouldn't have called you clingy. Because your clinginess...its something I love. Adore even. You know how to respect boundaries when needed as well. But it's obvious I have work to do on that, because I crossed a line I never should have crossed. So I am so, so, sorry Y/N. I'm sorry that I can't manage my frustrations in a way that won't hurt you. And I'm sorry that I'm horrible at communicating. I'm sorry that I say things that never should come out of my mouth."

You look at your boyfriend and the sincerity in the words his is saying. You swallow as he continues.

"I'm sorry that I cause more trouble than it's worth sometimes. That I make things a little more stressful than they need to be as well. I'm sorry that I can't express my love in the way you need either." He takes a shaky breath and he looks at you; your hear thumping in your chest at his apology.

"I love you. I love you. So much, Y/N. But I struggle to express that love and affection properly...which isn't fair to you." He lets go of your hand and you instinctively reach out for the warmth of it again. He lifts up one of his knees from the ground.

"So please be patient with me. Be patient with me so you understand the depth of my love for you. It is going to take a long time...if I had to guess..."

He pulled out a navy blue velvet box from his coat pocket. You watched as he opened it and a dainty but elegant ring was placed in there.

"It will the take the rest of my life to be able to show you." His voice trailed off and he trailed his eyes up to yours as he waited for you to say something...anything.

"I love you Y/N L/N."

You shook your head. Minho felt his heart start to shatter until you giggled and wiped away your tears.

"You idiot, it's Lee. Not L/N. Lee." You held your hand out and Minho slid the ring on your finger, his own trembling.

"I'm sorry I ruined your elaborate proposal."

Minho cocked his head as he helped you up, pulling you as close as humanly possible to his side so he could wrap you up in his coat as well.

"How did you know about that?"

"Jisung told me when I called him earlier..."

Minho chuckled as you guys walked along.

"Thats why we should probably wait to tell him about our engagement." You admired your ring with a bright smile.

Minho shook his head. "I'm gonna tell him when we get back. Because I want the world to know."

You looked at each other and immediately bursted out laughing because you both had the same thought.

"And that will be the quickest way for them to know."

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CHANGBIN|

Changbin had sped past three red lights to get here.

He would not lose you. He couldn't. The past couple of weeks had been grueling for him.

Your presence was something he was missing in his life. And that furthermore showed him how much he needed you.

How desperate he was to keep you.

He pulled into the lot illegally and ran into the small coffee shop. All the memories he had with you flooded his mind, since this was you and his favorite coffee shop. He had just been so busy that you guys never had time to come here anymore. It was more than half an hour away from your house and his dorm. And even further from the studio.

He scanned the small area and almost immediately pinpointed you with another person. A guy.

He was in a nice outfit as well. Very clean and put together. Lean and tall.

He watched as you both got up and hugged each other and watched as you smiled brightly at the guy and laughed at something he said.

"Alright I'll see you Wednes-"

"No! You will not see her Wednesday!" Changbin said as he pulled you from the guys embrace. "Listen, I don't know who you think you are but I'm her boyfriend! And she hasn't properly broken up with me yet so you can't have her! And if even if she did I wouldn't allow it!" He stared the guy down. Or rather up.

Damn he's even taller than he looked.

"Y/N-ie did you not tell-"

"I'm the only one who can call her that! Well...me and the guys but you're not the guys so you can't." Changbin mumbled angrily like a frustrated toddler.

"Changbin! Quit being such a fucking dumbass!" You said smacking him above the head lightly. You turn to guy and apologize profusely. "I'm sorry, Bin is a little...possessive." A nervous laugh escaped you. "Like a Chihuahua...but not the kind quiet sweet ones more like the ones who have a bark bigger than themselves." You said looking at your boyfriend with frustration in the lines of your face.

He looked down as you apologized to the guy once more.

"It's okay Y/N-ie...I think this is a memorable meeting. I'll definitely bring it up in my speech when you guys get married." He laughed. "I'm Justin Kim. Y/N's brother-in-law." He held his hand out and Changbin looked between the two of you. Justin had a smile on his face while you were looking at Changbin with annoyance.

"Ah! I'm so sorry...uh..."

"I think I'm older than you but I didn't grow up using honorifics so you can just call me Justin."

Changbin bowed and apologized, but held his hand out to shake.

"My wife and I are moving here settling down here soon. She's back home but will be here next week with the last of our things. She was stationed here for a little bit when she was in the military and loved it and since her only sister found love here and doesn't have much time to come see her since she's dating an idol, she thought it would be nice to move here. I agreed since it is beautiful, and this where our family is." He motioned his head towards you.

"Although she might be a little upset that I met you before she did. Especially since she'll be entrusting you too take care of her little sister...although I feel like its more so because she's quite a big fan of you guys. Ever since Y/N-ie said she was dating an idol she's been keeping up with culture and your band, so she can better understand."

Justin smiled and looked over at you. "I'll uh...let you guys talk though. Y/N-ie I'll have your sister call you when I get home. She might be a little flippy floppy though because she went through the stock of pregnancy cravings I bought her." He hugged you one last time and pulled Changbin into a hug as well before walking off.

"Changbin are you really that idiotic?" You looked at your boyfriend and he tried to sputter out a response, but you interrupted him befroe he could form coherent words. "I think you are, I fear." You let out a defeated sigh as you slunk back into your chair. You looked tired.

"Jiwon, can you grab me my usual. And do you remember Binnie's?" Changbin turned to see a barista nod at you and start to prepare your order. He sat down across from you and quickly realized that he was mistaken about a lot of things.

"Binnie I would never break up with you. I may break your head open because sometimes my God I want to slap you upside it so hard, but I would never break your heart." The sigh you let out was deafening. "If you were so jealous about me talking and hanging out with Minho so much why didn't you tell me? You really think flirting with a barista to make me jealous is a good idea, babe? Really?" Jiwon placed two drinks in front of you guys. "Chan told me. I think he spotted it pretty quickly, and noticed how you were turning down her advances when I wasn't around. Also, rather rudely too apparently - because Seo Changbin what do mean to tell me when Chris said you made a gagging noise at the poor girl!"

Changbin's eyes widened, and his lip popped out in a small pout. "I'm sorry Y/N."

"It's okay Binnie. But there isn't a need to be jealous baby. I'm not leaving you for Minho, he's just an extremely close friend. I'm not leaving you for anyone else period. And I'm sure as hell not going on any dates. I had to dress nicely because we were doing a photoshoot." You gestured to the cafe you guys were currently sitting in. "Justin and I are going to be co-owners. I thought it would be nice to have a location closer to where we live so we can go more often, and that one little restaurant closed down so I thought it would be a good opportunity." A soft smile painted your face. "And it's partially selfish reasons...I can't help but think of us when I think of this place."

Changbin's heart swelled with affection. So much affection that it hurt him.

"So while I have been upset with you for the past three weeks I'm over it Binnie. I miss you so much." Changbin got up and moved next to you.

"You mean it?"

You chuckled and placed a kiss on his lips. "100%." You said connecting them again, a little bit more passionately, but pulling back when you felt a mass amount of messages come through your phone, and then it immediately started ringing. Changbin pouted as he stared at your lips as they turned into a nervous grin.

"Although...you might have a shit show in store when it comes to my older sister."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

HYUNJIN|

You sat with Hyunjin the couch as you two watched your favorite series together. Today was your yearlong anniversary. You had been in bright spirits for the occasion as you guys went out and did things together.

Hyunjin slowly ran his long fingers through your hair, and he felt you slowly dozing off.

"Baby..." Hyunjin whsipered, "Are you sleepy?"

"Hmm, just a little..."

"Can we talk?" Hyunjin paused the show, not giving you a choice.

You sat up and you felt your heart thump in your chest.

"Yeah we need to."

Hyunjin nodded. "You go first."

"No you"

You both spoke at the same time.

"Marry me-"

"We should break up-"

You looked at Hyunjin dumbfounded and he looked at you with utter digust.

"First off... that is utterly disgusting that you would even consider breaking up with me? What are you some sadist? Deriving pleasure from my pain and humiliation?" He said putting a hand to his chest dramtically.

You looked at him with wide eyes. "W-Well are you some sort of crazy person?! What the hell do you mean marry me?!"

Hyunjin pouted. "Well you can call me crazy all you want I'm being serious." He ran a hand through his brown bangs. "We've been together a year. And I know I want to be with you for the rest of my life. And I know for a fact you do because how the heck could you not want to marry me? I mean we'll quite literally be the most beautiful couple God has ever put on this earth." He said rolling his eyes in a joking manner.

You didn't see amused, rather your lip was shaking slightly and your eyes watering.

Hyunjin bit his cheek and pulled out a little ring from his pocket.

"It's a little cliche, I know. And some will probably say too soon. But I know what I want." He said quietly.

He took a breath and spoke slowly, switching to his native language.

"Cling to me Y/N. For the rest of your life. Ask me how you look. Let my eyes cling to you when I admire you. Let my words cling to you when I say just how beautiful you are. Cling yourself to me every night before we fall asleep, and let me cling to you every morning when we wake up. Let yourself cling onto me when you feel like you aren't enough, and let me cling onto you so I can show the world that you are enough-that you are more than enough; and you will always be more than enough. Let me cling to you in the times where I feel you need reassurance, and I'll let you cling to me the times where you feel like I'm not sufficient enough. We may not be perfect but Y/N no couple is. I don't care what people think about us. We can be perfectly imperfect together. I'll let you cling to me so those hateful words have no room to stick. I'll let you cling to me so everyone around us knows that I am not me without you. That you're the one who completes me. Cling to me so tightly that if God forbid you ever leave you would take everything of me with so no o that no one else could ever cling to me. Because I won't let anyone else do that. No matter how much they claim to know what is best for me, they don't. Because if they did, they would know that it's you. And it will always be you. Thats why I'm so sure of this."

He slid the ring on your finger, as you watched him admire it on your hands. He didn't look up as he murmured quietly.

"Cling to me Y/N...I'm begging you."

You looked at Hyunjin and felt a few tears fall onto your hand as he held it with both of his own.

"You...you knew?"

Hyunjin shook his head. "Not when I said what I said. But Y/N I swear I didn't mean it in a mean way." He looked up at you helplessly. "In retrospect now I realize they meant it in a vicious way but...I genuinely thought that clinginess was a good thing. Isn't that how it's supposed to be when you love someone? Aren't you supposed to want to be with them?"

His brown eyes searched your face. "Because that's how it is for me. How it will always be. I don't want it to be any other way."

You felt your eyes prick up with tears.

"Did you really mean it when you said you want to break up?" He whimpered.

You shook your head aggressively. "No, Hyunjin no- I was just feeling insecure. I see how everyone reacts at us and sometimes I feel like I'll never be accepted as being your girlfriend."

"Fiancée." He corrected. "If they won't accept you as my girlfriend then I'll make them accept you as my fiancée. And if they want to be asses after that than tough luck because if anyone dares to not accept you as my wife than I'll find a way to deal with them." He said in complete seriousness.

You couldn't help but laugh as you moved your hands to cup Hyunjin's cheeks.

"Hyunjin I haven't said yes." You said quietly.

He gives you a determined look. "But you will say yes..."

He waited patiently for you to say yes.

"Jagiya. Three letters. Y-E-S. You just have to move your mouth to say it." He said stubbornly.

You shook your head.

"I'm not going to say yes Hyunjin."

His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to protest but instead you kissed him lightly, resting your forehead against his own.

"You won't say yes?" He whined.

"Nope."

"Why not...do you not want to say yes? Can you give me a straight answer Jagiya? Because I won't accept it until you say no. Until then I'll assume you are just being stubborn."

You smiled as your eyes met. Hyunjin looked at you waiting for you're answer. Which was so much more than a yes.

"I'll cling to you Hyunjin. Always. As long as you promise to do the same."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

@hardladytale @yaorzu-blog @viola-celine @jiminssluttyminx @pearl-monkeys @wave2ivy @keshet2k @dreammix88 @mysticalhumano @hannahlolo @periodpoops @m1rroh @seungmyynie @beebee18 @theodorenottgf @qrstarz @xocandyy @stay-tiny-things @vixensss @bo-fairykim @conwunder @parisanmorovati @lovesunshinefelix @hyunjins-dimples @ka0ila @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @chuuyaobsessed @dollschan @katexstay @lisunny2 @abovenyx @adrisiwiris @dontwannaexist @minsungsthirdwheel @ray0magdalene @maaayytyroshka @ddiidi

(if I missed you I'm so so sorry <3)

#skz angst #skz stay #skz x reader #skz imagines #christopher bang #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #skz reactions #stray kids #skz bangchan angst #skz changbin angst #skz lee know angst #skz hyunjin angst

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aeternusfoundation · 2 years

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rafecameronssl4t · 13 days

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Do Sarah and Wheezie get along with reader in the arranged/forced marriage au? It seems like they’re constantly going to dinners and events for readers family; does she ever hang with the Cameron’s? Is Rose a better mother figure to her than her own?

With the Cameron’s || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

A/n: I hope this gives you better insight into reader’s relationship with Rafe’s family plus bonus lil snippet of what Rafe is like during the pregnancy (will go more in depth in another fic)

Warnings: none really (not proofread)

Word count: 1,550

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

Divider by @h-aewo

"Are we running late? What if the plane leaves without us—" Wheezie’s voice quickly gets cut off by Rafe’s sharp tone, his irritation palpable. "Can you shut up for one second?" he snaps, huffing in frustration. His fingers press against his temples as if the very sound of her voice is grating on him.

The sharpness in his words makes you wince slightly, but when your eyes meet Sarah's across the seat, a faint smile tugs at your lips. Rafe’s temper wasn’t exactly a surprise anymore. "It’s our private jet, Wheezie," he continues, his voice now dropping to a bored drawl as he looks out the window, his hand settling possessively on your thigh, squeezing it as the runway comes into view.

"They're not going anywhere without us." You shift slightly under his touch, not used to these fleeting moments of affection in front of the Cameron's, but you say nothing. It’s a part of your dynamic now—Rafe’s firm grip on control, always balancing on a fine line between caring and detached. Rose, sitting in front, turns around, concern flashing in her eyes.

"Is it safe for you to travel, Y/n?" Her voice is soft, almost maternal, a stark contrast to your own mother. You manage a small smile, trying to ease her worries. "Yeah, perfectly fine. I checked in with our doctors." Your tone is calm, almost rehearsed, as if you’ve had to explain this more times than you can count. Rose nods, satisfied, and returns her attention to her phone.

As the car slows down, Wheezie’s eyes widen when she finally sees the jet, her loud gasp shifting everyone's attention. "Woah," she breathes, her face lighting up in awe at the sight of the sleek aircraft, the one your grandparents had gifted you after the wedding. "Pretty nice, huh?" you tease, nudging her lightly. Her excitement was always contagious, and like always, you let yourself enjoy it.

"Your first time flying private?" you ask, winking at her as she nods vigorously, still mesmerised by the plane. The car rolls to a stop, and Rafe is the first to get out, his movements confident and deliberate. Without a word, he turns back toward you, offering his hand. Gratefully, you take it, carefully stepping out, feeling the cool breeze brush against your skin.

Your eyes sweep across the aircraft, its polished surface glinting in the sunlight as you feel Rafe wrap your shawl around your shoulders. Your eyes scan the jet, taking in its sleek lines and pristine exterior. It’s a symbol of the life you’ve been thrust into—luxurious, yes, but hollow in so many ways.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, a pleasure to see you again," Anthony, the pilot, greets both of you, extending his hand to Rafe’s first, then yours for a firm handshake. "Good to see you too, Anthony," you reply politely, flashing a smile that feels more natural now. While Rafe and the pilot exchange words about flight plans and weather conditions, you glance back at Sarah, who is still staring at the plane in disbelief.

"I can’t believe I’m about to fly on a private jet," Sarah murmurs, almost to herself. You chuckle softly, catching her wide-eyed expression. "You better believe it, Sarah," you say, the humour in your voice masking the exhaustion underneath. It was a strange life—one you still weren’t fully used to—but moments like these reminded you how surreal it could all be.

You step closer to where Rafe and Anthony stand, their conversation coming to a halt as you approach. "Is everything as it should be?" you ask, your gaze flicking between them. Rafe shifts slightly, turning toward you, while Anthony’s face brightens with a warm, professional smile. "Yes, everything is set," Anthony replies, his voice reassuring.

"The flight to New York should be only around an hour and a half." His smile deepens, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling with a sense of familiarity. You nod in acknowledgment, your hand instinctively moving to rest on your belly. The action doesn't go unnoticed by Anthony, who follows your gesture. "How many weeks are you now?" he asks with genuine curiosity.

You hesitate for a moment, your mind blanking under the weight of small details, suddenly unsure. "Oh, uh—34 weeks now?" you reply, though your tone carries a hint of uncertainty. You turn to Rafe for confirmation, and he's already watching you, that rare, softer expression gracing his usually unreadable face. "35 tomorrow, actually," Rafe corrects, his voice gentle as he pulls you closer, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist.

The motion feels natural, almost instinctive, though there's still a flicker of surprise at how he’s been acting since you've been pregnant. His thumb brushes lightly against your side, almost absentmindedly, as if his hand belonged there. It’s a small gesture, but it lingers, and for a moment, you can’t help but feel a sense of unfamiliar warmth in his touch.

He looks back at Anthony, who nods knowingly. "You're in good hands," Anthony says with a wink, glancing between the two of you before excusing himself to check the final details for the flight. You stay pressed to Rafe’s side for a moment longer than usual, the warmth of his touch and the gentle smile he’d given you lingering. As you follow Rafe up the steps of the plane, his hand reaches back toward you, a silent gesture that feels automatic.

You pause for a moment, looking at his extended hand, then slide yours into it. His grip tightens, pulling you up the stairs with a familiarity that’s still strange to you despite how long it’s been. His attention is already elsewhere, but there’s something steady in the way he holds on. The second you step inside, Wheezie lets out a gasp, her eyes wide as she takes in the lavish interior. "Oh my god," she whispers, her voice filled with awe.

Sarah, beside her, shares the same shocked expression, her mouth slightly agape as she slowly looks around. Rose, ever composed, gracefully accepts a flute of champagne handed to her by the flight attendant, her lips curling into a satisfied smile as she takes a seat on one of the plush leather chairs. "I could get used to this," she says with a contented hum, easing herself into one of the leather seats as she crosses her legs, holding the glass delicately.

"You know, Rose, you can use my jet whenever you want," you say, settling into the seat across from her. There’s a familiar warmth in your voice because with Rose, you didn’t have to hold back as much. She’d seen you at your best and your worst, and over time, a genuine bond had grown between you two. "You're family," you add with a small smile.

Your words are warm, genuine, and for a moment, you feel a small sense of pride in being able to extend such a gesture. It was your grandparents’ gift, after all, but now it felt like another small piece of the life you were slowly building alongside Rafe, complicated as it was. Rose glances up at you, her lips curving into a fond smile. "Thank you, Y/n. That's really sweet of you, darling."

She lifts her champagne glass slightly in a subtle toast of appreciation. Between Rose and Ward, you had always preferred Rose. You return her smile, her eyes sparkling with the kind of closeness that comes with shared secrets and long afternoons together. There was an ease with her that you didn’t find in Ward's scrutinising gaze.

The two of you had even started forming your own little rituals—getting your hair and nails done together, sharing gossip that never left the salon. In a family where appearances were everything, it was a quiet comfort to have someone you could let your guard down with, even just a little. Rose had been the one who welcomed you the most. From the outside, she appeared cool and distant, but you knew better.

Rose raises her glass slightly in a toast. "Here’s to us," she says, her tone light and affectionate. You chuckle softly, lifting an imaginary glass in response. "To us," you echo, feeling a familiar sense of comfort in her presence. Rose had become more of a mother figure to you than anything else, a relationship that had blossomed in the shadows of family expectations and high society obligations.

She offered you the warmth and guidance your own mother never quite gave, filling the void with her quiet support and understanding. Rose had a way of making you feel seen in a world that often demanded you play a role. With her, it wasn’t about maintaining facades or living up to expectations—it was about the genuine bond you had formed through shared experiences and mutual respect.

There were times you confided in her—about your uncertainties with Rafe, about the overwhelming pressure of impending motherhood—and she always listened, offering advice that felt sincere rather than patronising. She knew the world you had been thrust into, had navigated it herself long before you, and in her own way, she helped you find your footing.

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unpluggedtv · 2 years

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The article claims that Air India will probably make a firm order for 50 737 Max aircraft with the option to purchase up to 150 more. Tata formally acquired debt-ridden Air India earlier this year. The adoption of more fuel-efficient planes could increase the airline's domestic and worldwide market share. With Tata's recent intention to merge Air India with Vistara, which it jointly owns with Singapore Airlines Ltd., a behemoth is expected to be established in one of the aviation industry's fastest-growing areas. The integration is anticipated to make Air India the largest international and second-largest domestic carrier in the country, with a fleet of 218 aircraft.

Read More: https://unpluggedtv.in/air-india-to-add-150-boeing-737-max-aircraft-to-its-fleet/

#AirIndia Real Air India AirIndia Live Flight India World Wide Travels #FlightNews.info Aviation News

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familyvideostevie · 9 months

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day after tomorrow

joel miller x reader

summary: joel drops you off and picks you up from the airport. you are definitely falling in love with him.

warnings: modern no outbreak au, game!joel or hbo!joel, fluff, really just a fluff fest honestly, new-ish relationship, falling in love, sweet enough to make your teeth ache | 2.7k

A/N: this is a christmas gift for my dear friend @strangerfreaks who makes my life better in every way possible. i love you! hope you enjoy this <3

___

He's leaning on the side of the truck when you hurry outside with your stuff.

"Morning," you call. It's barely that, sky still dark and air still carrying the bite of the night's chill.

Joel straightens up and gives you a tired smile. Most of his smiles are tired but they're always genuine when directed at you. He tugs the backpack from your shoulder and presses his lips to your cheek, beard scratching your skin gently.

"Howdy," he says in your ear before pulling away.

The travel mug Joel pushes into your hands is warm to the touch.

"Tea," he says before you can tell him it's too early for coffee. His voice is deeper than usual, still warming up from sleep. It's not a cup from the local shop -- they're not open yet -- so he must have made it at home. "No caffeine before flights."

"You remembered?"

He gives you an unimpressed look and grabs your bags. They go in the backseat of his truck and he jerks his chin at the passenger door. "Get in. S'chilly."

It's also early. So early you were not going to ask him to drive you to the airport but when you mentioned you had to go on a work trip he offered. Insisted, actually, once he found out what time you needed to get there.

"You ain't takin' a cab that early," he had said. "Hell, you ain't takin' a cab home, neither. I'll pick you up."

This thing between you isn't new anymore, not exactly, but it's not solid yet. It doesn't have a name. But it's been a few months and you know what his sheets smell like and the feel of him pressed against you in the middle of the night and how he laughs with his head thrown back, mouth wide and eyes creased at the corners. He likes to take you on long walks around the lake a few towns over and you know all about his daughters even if you haven't met them yet. Your life feels a little more solid with Joel in it and the swell of your heart in your chest when you talk to him, when you see him, when he looks at you, is a welcome feeling. It's nice to want and be wanted in return.

The inside of his truck is warm, your seat heater already turned on. The radio is down to a low hum and there's a silver cup similar to your own in the holder between the seats. Joel gets back into the truck with a slight groan and glances at you to see if you've got your seatbelt on before he clicks his.

"Ready?" he asks. You nod. He settles his hand on your headrest and looks out the back windshield as he reverses the truck out of the driveway. "Shouldn't hit much traffic," he says.

You take a sip of your tea and watch him as he drives out of your neighborhood and towards the highway. Part of you wishes you would hit traffic so you could look at him longer. Even in the dark you know his face pretty well by now. His hair is getting a little long, the dark threaded through with some grey and falling over his perpetually lined forehead. The scar on the bridge of his nose that you love to run your finger across and the bruises under his eyes from too many nights up late working on site plans and employee schedules. You don't think you've met a man who works as hard as Joel, and yet here he is driving you to the airport when he could be sleeping.

Maybe it's because he's tired or maybe it's because it's dark or maybe it's because you're leaving for a few days but Joel lets you look without teasing. His eyes catch yours for just a second and he smirks.

"Why don't you drink coffee before a flight?" He takes a sip of his own thermos. You watch his throat work as he swallows and look away this time. The sky is starting to look purple out your window, the trees and fields and occasional buildings flying by too fast for your eyes to settle on anything. Joel drinks coffee like it's water. You're still leaning things about each other -- most days you find yourself thinking that you want to be learning things about him for the rest of your life -- and this is a new topic of conversation. You haven't had to be on a plane since you met him.

"I don't really like flying," you say. "Makes me nervous. I figure caffeine will just make it worse."

"Don't like it much either." You look at him again and find see smirk turn to a frown as he merges onto the nearly empty highway. "You gonna be okay?"

He asks like it's within his power to make flying something enjoyable, to cancel your work trip, to squash everything in this world that makes you nervous. Mostly you're just glad he's not teasing you about it. Maybe someday you can take a trip and be grumpy about it together.

"I'll be fine, Joel."

"Hm."

He rests an elbow against the window and rakes his hand through his hair.

"What are you up to this week?" you ask.

He sighs. "Not much," he says. "Lumber shipment but Tommy's handlin' it. Ellie says her shower head is actin' funny so I'll go to her place and look at that. Probably sit my ass on the couch and try to watch a damn football game or somethin'."

"So what I'm hearing is you're going to miss me." It's meant to be a tease but it comes out a bit more earnest than you'd like.

He sends you that unamused look of his but the mirth in his eyes betrays him, tells you he sees through it. You're learning that he's good at that -- seeing what you really mean, what you really want, who you really are, all the way down to the core. "Course I will," he says. "What man wouldn't miss cold hands bein' stuck up his shirt when he gets in bed?"

You scoff and Joel snickers. You could remind him how he usually catches your hands in his before you make it to his hemline on the rare nights he does wear a shirt, how he cradles your fingers and blows on them softly while rubbing them with his perpetually warm palms. The memory makes your breath hitch just a bit.

It's only three days. Some conference your boss wanted you to go to in his stead. It won't require much of you -- you just have to attend a few panels, a dinner or two, and schmooze a little bit. You'll be back before you know it. You tell yourself it's silly to feel this apprehension at the distance, the time apart. But you're used to Joel by now and damn if you won't miss him. Used to him taking up space in your kitchen, used to his arm around you on the couch, used to his short texts and heavy gaze. You know by now that it's only a matter of time before you love him.

"I'll miss you, too," you say softly. Joel eyes you, smirk turned soft again and reaches for you. He settles his palm on your thigh and you cover your hand with his.

When you get to the airport aren't many cars around and you're pretty sure the attendants won't yell at you for idling. Joel seems to think the same thing as he gets out of the truck to set your luggage on the ground. You leave your now-empty to-go mug in his car and throw your arms around him when he gets to the curb with your suitcase. His chest rumbles in amusement but he hugs you back, one palm rubbing between your shoulder blades until you pull away.

"Thank you for --"

"Nope," he interrupts you. "No thanks allowed." He hands you your backpack and you shoulder it. "I'll pick you up on Wednesday," he says.

You wave him off. "I get in way too late, don't worry about it --"

His hand cups your cheek and the words sputter out in your throat. "I'll be here," he says again.

"I'll call you," you say. "When I get there." It sounds like a question.

His eyes crinkle at the corners. "Please do."

"Thanks for the tea --"

"Now, what did I just say?"

You wrinkle your nose at him and he rolls his eyes before leaning in to press his lips to yours. You sigh into the kiss just a little though it remains chaste, mouths closed as his thumb strokes your cheek once, twice, before he pulls away. It's the kind of kiss that feels fond, feels familiar. A kiss that becomes routine and for a second you imgaine the press of your mouths a thousand times over just like this.

"Safe flight, sweetheart."

You smile at him and grab your suitcase before you stand here kissing him all day. "Bye, Joel."

6:04 am: you make it to your gate okay?

You send him a picture of your breakfast sandwich and the sun rising through the window, painting the sky purple and orange.

6:05 am: don't text and drive!

He replies with a photo of a full mug of coffee on his counter. It's a silly one, a dinosaur wearing a Santa hat. You think Sarah got it for him as a gag gift.

6:05 am: home already. let me know when you land

6:06 am: will do. have a good day!

The flight is pretty okay. You spend the bumpy moments thinking about Joel's hand on your leg and get through it just fine. A shuttle takes you to your hotel and you have to hurry a bit to be ready for your first panel.

You're busy all day. So tired by the time you get back to your room that you flop on the bed with a groan.

"Ugh," you say, face smushed into the sheets. You're tired and hungry and...you miss Joel and feel a little silly about it.

That sense of puppy love, as most people would call it, hasn't faded. Your feelings for Joel are more than the crush they were when you first started seeing each other but they still linger in the realm of infatuation. You like to look at him, to feel the solid warmth of him beside you, above you, underneath you. You like being near him. But you're also starting to love things. You love the way his voice sounds when he wakes up, the way he says your name over the phone, the way he asks you what you want, how you are, how your day was. You love to see him on your couch, in your kitchen, in your bed. You've started to miss him when he's not around.

And what you said to him in his truck is true. You do miss him. It's an ache that sits in the center of your chest, an ache that feels like the best kind of bruise -- because it comes from something good. And because you know it'll be soothed soon enough.

But, because you're only human, you doubt that it's as serious for him. Joel keeps his cards close to his chest and while you feel like you know him pretty well by now you also have so much to learn. So, though you really want to, you don't pick up the phone and call him. Maybe the next time you're away.

7:54 pm: day 1 done! ready to get in bed. why do men talk so much?

He texts back immediately.

7:54 pm: god knows. don't forget to order room service on the company dime. sweet dreams.

You laugh and do as he says.

The rest of the conference goes the same. By day three you're exhausted and your face hurts from smiling at so many people. Your shoes are no longer comfortable and as soon as the closing keynote ends you're out of there, changing into soft clothes and taking the shuttle to the airport. You text Joel a picture of your airport dinner and then your eye bags and he replies with a cute that has you giggling a little too loudly in public.

You just want to get home to him. Your own bed is a bonus.

But then your flight gets delayed. Twice. Joel tells you not to worry, he'll pick you up in the middle of the night if he has to. Once you board you get stuck on the tarmac for another half hour before finally taking off. It's a decidedly less relaxing experience because you're so anxious to be home but you make it. When you land it feels like you're sitting in your seat for ages. You're tired and feel gross and you want to go to bed. Your phone turns back on and you've got one text waiting for you.

10:34 pm: i'll be by baggage claim

That was 15 minutes ago. He must have been checking your flight in the air to get here at a reasonable time. God, you want to touch him. You want to stick your nose in his neck and inhale.

You try very hard not to run through the terminal to the escalator that goes down to arrivals. It seems to move really fucking slowly once you're on it. As soon as it gets far enough for you to see the baggage claim level and everyone waiting there your eyes search for him. You see some families, a few tired children sleeping in arms that hold them tenderly. A group of girls with a sign that reads WELCOME HOME RACHEL!

And then there's Joel.

Once you spot him it's hard to keep a smile from your face. He's standing there with his hands in his pockets, eyes glued to the escalator. Jeans, jacket, boots, and a firm set to his jaw that might be intimidating to anyone else but to you it's familiar. It's him. Once he sees you he stands a little taller and you see his cheek twitch. If someone wasn't in front of you you'd be down the steps in seconds but you wait until you're at the bottom to race forward.

It's probably a bit dramatic. You drop your suitcase and backpack at your feet in front of him.

"Hi," you say, and then you throw your arms around his shoulders. Joel laughs.

"S'like you're comin' home from war, or somethin'," he says, though his hugs you back just as tightly. "Should'a made a sign."

"Feels like it." Your words are muffled by his shoulder.

"That bad, huh?" His palm drags up and down your spine. "Let's get you home, then."

Neither of you pull away. "I missed you," you say softly.

Joel breathes deep and pulls away, hand on the back of your head as he makes sure you're looking at him.

"Missed you, too," he says gruffly. Then he kisses you. It's less chaste than your goodbye kiss but still perfectly acceptable for airport arrivals, you think.

"You hungry?"

"I sent you a picture of my dinner!"

"Not what I asked." You shrug and tangle your fingers with his. His thumb strokes the back of your hand. "We'll get you somethin' on the way home."

"Do you want to stay over?" you ask in a rush, realizing too late he's got no reason to want to. It's late and tomorrow is a workday. "I'm just gonna shower and go to bed but I--"

Joel's nostrils flare. "If you want me to I will." Simple as that.

"Okay," you say. He squeezes your hand.

You walk in easy silence for a few moments. Once you're in the car you'll ask how his week was, tell him about the gossip you learned at the conference. You'll look at him the entire drive to your place, drinking your fill of him after three days without. Yeah, you're going to love him. It's just a matter of time.

"Thank you for coming to get me," you say.

Joel looks like he wants to argue but he allows it.

"Anytime," he says. It sounds like a promise.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, general masterlist here!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff

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fangswbenefits · 1 year

Text

Family

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: Miguel is a natural when it comes to being a father.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

No warnings! Pure fluff! Dad Miguel.

A flock of birds took flight from a nearby tree and the ruffling of the leaves was a clear indication that there was an intruder nearby.

Your moment of peace and quiet was short-lived, but you remained still, folding under your head as both you an Miguel soaked up the Summer sun.

"Pa~pá!" sang a small voice from inside the canopy.

"Ye~ah?" Miguel said, focused on his dimensional travel watch.

"Look at me~e!"

"I'm looking."

"You're not looking!"

You wrinkled your nose at him behind a faint smile, “Miguel O’Hara, I will smash that watch into a million pieces if you don’t focus on your daughter.”

He glanced up at you. “The multiverse—”

“—can wait,” you reassured him, nudging his arm with an elbow. “Jessica is more than capable of taking over for a couple of days.”

He nodded, but only half convinced, which was good enough, considering this was the first time Miguel was taking a few days off from the never-ending stressful work of keeping the canon intact.

It was pleasant enough to be able to go to earth-616B on a little family trip and enjoy the countryside with the guidance of Peter, MJ and little Mayday.

But Miguel was… well, Miguel. A natural worrier who disliked handing over his responsibilities to others.

“Hey, you have something on your face,” he suddenly said in a low voice.

“What is it?” you immediately brought both hands to tap along your skin, searching for anything unusual.

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on your cheek, which sent your heart into overdrive.

“Nice one, O’Hara…”

He replied with a teasing smile that you were so used to loving.

“EEEEW!” your daughter’s voice tore through the empty field, effectively distressing the surrounding fauna.

You watched as Miguel turned off the bleeping device on his wrist and rose from the meadow to his full height, headed toward the tree.

“Alright, little spider, come down.”

You spotted child of five descending upside down from a branch by her web, two front teeth missing, face covered in smudges of dirt, but beaming brightly at the signt of her dad.

“Papá!”

He helped her reach the ground safely and ruffled her unruly hair. “You need to be careful.”

Even from a distance, your heightened senses allowed you to feel the adoration in his voice.

The girl was wiggling now with barely suppressed excitement. "Hey, papá?"

Well, if that wasn't the most mischievous tone of voice you’d ever heard. "Hmm?”

"Do that thing."

"What thing?"

"The thing!"

"What thing?" he asked again, feigning confusion.

"THAT thing!" she cheered. "Where you go bzzzz and vssssssh and then BAM!”

"Oh," said Miguel. “That thing."

"Yep!”

"Maybe not," he sighed, but when her uplifted face began to wobble, you knew he had little choice. "Well, don’t tell mommy.”

"Yeeeaah!"

He brought a finger to his lips that she promptly mimicked. “Shhhhhh,” she then giggled.

“I can hear you!” you shouted, sitting on the grass to offer your seal of approval that came in the form of a wide smile.

You trusted her with Miguel, because Miguel trusted her with no one else but you. He would never consciously endanger his child, so you grew to accept that some of their playtime might involve something a bit riskier — as long as no loss of limbs was on the table.

She looked so tiny next to his impressive height, but was definitely a miniature copy of her father.

“We carry them inside us for months only for them to come out looking exactly like their father,” Jessica had once said and you wholeheartedly agreed.

He was wearing casuals, but his suit quickly began to engulf his entire body, leaving him only unmasked. Your daughter was bobbing happily along beside him.

"Stay back," he warned her lightly before sendind two laser-like red strings to coil around a thick branch, and effortlessly bending it into an arch until the tip hit the ground.

"Yey!" she yelped in excitement, toddling off toward the branch.

"Alright. Now, be careful.”

She met this warning with as much enthusiasm as she had for being offered an unlimited supply of candy of her choice. It didn't take much to excite her and you couldn't help but smile and follow as she began climbing up the branch with steady steps.

As she reached the middle, her knees bent as a way to maintain balance. “Do it, do iiiit!”

Miguel chuckled and the twin strings loosened ever so slightly in order to have it wobble up and down, sending the young child into a spiral of pure bliss.

“Faster! Faster!”

“Steady yourself,” he advised instead and she did as she was told, lowering herself and extending both arms as if riding a wave.

To a young spider, this was the closest thing they could get to a bouncing castle, so you didn’t mind this at all.

And neither did Miguel, because he instructed for her to climb onto his shoulders and offered the sweetest and most genuine smile ever.

He let go of the tree branch slowly, and his suit retracted at once, the little girl sliding both arms down his face for support and planting a kiss on top of his head.

“Did you have fun?”

"Yes!" she immediately said with a screech.

"And you’re strong and brave?”

"Yes!"

"And you know I love you, don't you?” he said as he paced toward you with her bouncing on his shoulders. “And mamá too, right? We'll always love you."

She was, delightfully, still very much of fan of such cheesy displays of affection. "Yes," she chirped happily.

You rose to your feet, feeling warmth spread throughout your body at the wonderful sight in front of you.

Miguel, for all his stubbornness and grumpiness, was a marvelous father. It was second nature to him.

"Another kiss?”

She leaned over and planted a noisy kiss on Miguel’s temple and giggled when he did his best to wipe it off with the back of his hand.

You welcomed them with a tight embrace and the feeling of a soft caress along your face as your daughter gave you a toothless smile.

"Let’s head out to uncle Peter’s house for a bath,” you said, pecking the palm of her hand.

“Don’t need one!”

Miguel squeezed her tiny calfs lightly. “Young lady, you do as your mother says.”

“But—”

Another squeeze and she bared her teeth, two tiny fangs emerging.

“Miguel, she’s showing off her fangs,” you said, feigning terror.

“Fangs away!” he said with a smile, bouncing her up and down his shoulders, which had her explode into a laughter.

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o’hara fanfiction #across the spiderverse #miguel x reader #spider man 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel o’hara drabble

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lockefanfic · 3 months

Text

Truth

The following can be considered an alternate ending to the Business Trip series - although it can just as easily be read on its own. :)

---

The first few weeks together as an official couple were wonderful. Honeymoon phase and all that. Moving in together, domestic bliss. Fucking like rabbits, of course. But problems arose - became noticeable, and then unavoidable. Two of them, actually.

Problem 1: Your job.

Problem 2: Her job.

---

Problem 1: You’d thought business trips were a thing of the past. They weren’t.

You were happy to put the little adventure you’d had in Seoul and Tokyo behind you. Since then you’d done your best to decline any opportunities to engage in similar trips - feigning illness, sending underlings in your place, handling as many meetings as you could remotely. These days your life consisted of long, sometimes draining days at the office - a far cry from the brushes with danger and law enforcement that characterized your most recent trip overseas. Your days at work were boring and mundane now, but you were at home, and that was what mattered.

Home, after all, was where she was.

Regardless, the allure of another trip still came calling every now and then, tempting you, enticing you into spending a couple of weeks or months overseas where anything could - and sometimes did - happen.

Sometimes that allure took physical form. Sometimes it came waltzing into your office wearing a tight blouse and a pencil skirt. Sometimes it was named Shin Ryujin. Other days it was named Hwang Yeji, or Lee Chaeryeong. Today, as with most days, it was named Shin Yuna.

“Ryujin and Yeji are on-site in Busan, and Chaeryeong is in Seoul, waiting for her flight to join them. Lia sustained injuries in our last operation and isn’t medically cleared for this one, but she’s recovering well. Ryujin has begin surveillance on our competitors’ teams - codenamed New Jeans and Le Sserafim - and she is ready to proceed with next steps once you arrive,” Yuna says, eagerness evident in the tone of her moderately Korean-accented english. “Shall I make travel arrangements for us to join them?”

For the first time since she walked into your office you look up from the reports on your laptop. You don’t miss the small bite the young woman is giving her lower lip, nor the way she has crossed her legs and begun leaning her wide hips against your desk. It takes more restraint than you were willing to admit not to steal a glance at her long pantyhose-clad legs and the tight charcoal pencil skirt they led to. You find the self-control to keep eye contact with your eager young executive assistant, even if her body language and tone of voice made her intentions clear and easy to read.

“Give me a second to finish reviewing Ryujin’s report,” you answer, returning your full attention to the screen in front of you. “I’ll confirm whether I need to be on-site by end of day, and if so you can make the necessary arrangements then.”

Despite her best efforts, Yuna can’t hide the small twinge of disappointment that makes its way across her soft features. She’d been looking forward to the thirteen hour flight with you and the opportunities it would present.

“Oh, and…” she begins, her tone a little less upbeat now that you’d at least temporarily dampened her excitement. “You have a visitor. It’s Detective-”

“Let her in,” you interrupt. Yuna frowns, offers a short bow - a lingering habit from her Korean upbringing - and steps back toward the door to your office. She swings it open, and you catch the look of disdain on her features when she waves in your visitor.

Im Nayeon pushes past Yuna and into the office. She gives Yuna a sharp look as she passes the younger woman, and even from your chair you can sense the venom in it. The detective sits down in the chair opposite your desk, legs and arms crossed. She is dressed plainly, in a short denim skirt and a leather jacket, the glimmer of her badge on a chain around her neck the only clue as to her profession. She drops a large paper bag onto your desk.

“Please let me know if you need anything else, sir-”

“That will be all, Yuna,” you answer.

Before your executive assistant has a chance to close the door, Nayeon turns her head and squeezes in one last shot.

“Cancel his next hour, Miss-”

“My name is Yuna,” the young woman at the door answers, crossing her arms, scowl painted on her lips.

“Whatever,” Nayeon retorts, flatly. “Clear his schedule for the next hour. Oh, and do be a dear and lock the door.”

Out of the corner of your eye you catch two things - the barely restrained scoff on Yuna’s lips, and the satisfied sneer on Nayeon’s. With one last look of scorn directed at the back of the detective’s head, the younger Korean woman closes the door with a little more force than was necessary. The click of the lock engaging follows shortly after, as does the heavier than usual click-clack of her heels as she stomps away in obvious irritation.

“You have a thing for executive assistants with hips,” Nayeon observes. “Although this one’s much more of a brat than the last one.”

“Be nice,” you say, although you can’t keep the smirk from appearing on your lips as you continue to scroll through the report on your laptop. “She grew up in Korea, so she’s useful whenever I’m in-country. And she’s not a bad person.”

“I know,” Nayeon relents. “But the more of a cunt I am to her, the more she gets off on being a little fucktoy for you. I bet she gets off on thinking that you’re fucking her without me knowing. I bet it makes her so wet.”

Your smirk turns into a slim smile, and it becomes difficult to keep your eyes on the report in front of you.

“Am I wrong?” she contests.

“No,” you admit, finally turning to give her your full attention. “In fact, I’m about to hop on a plane with her to Korea in a couple of days. I expect it will be an… eventful flight.”

“Good,” Nayeon states, satisfied. “I bet she’ll be a good little girl for you, now that she’s received another reminder of how much you need some time away from your queen bitch of a girlfriend.”

She smiles - this one warm, soft - the smile that caught you in its clutches all those years ago and never let go. She turns momentarily to face the door.

“Oh, yeah, baby, fuck, you’re so big in me, fuck me! Fuck, this is the best dick I’ve ever had!” she exclaims in faux-pleasure, ensuring she was loud enough for the exasperated executive assistant sitting just outside your door to hear. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

“We can fuck at home later. I just wanted to piss her off,” Nayeon admits, a sly smile on her lips. “Anyway, pull up House of the Dragon?”

“Already on it,” you answer, swinging your laptop screen around so you can both watch. Nayeon pulls containers of take-out sushi from the paper bag.

She swaps your salmon for her tamago.

She leans over your desk as she passes you your chopsticks. She gives you a warm kiss, and the smile she leaves on your lips stays there for the rest of the day.

---

Even after all these years, she never tired of the collar and its leash.

It was showing signs of wear, of course - the bright fire engine red had faded into a softer, paler shade, the chain was no longer as shiny, and there was more than one set of her teeth marks on it from particularly frisky sessions - but she never missed a chance to put it on when the mood struck, and you never missed a chance to put it on her.

For now you are content to let the chain dangle freely in your left hand, watching the light streaming in from the open window as it plays on its metallic links. The chain glimmers in the morning light against her pale, creamy skin, swaying and occasionally bouncing along with her movements.

The chair you are sitting on protests with the weight and movement the both of you make atop it. Her soft sighs and gasps - a far cry from the loud shouts and moans you knew she was well capable of - happily cancel out the furniture’s squeaking protests as she rides you atop it. Soft, sensual, slow. The perfect fuck for a perfect morning.

You do your best to just sit there and savour the moment, letting Nayeon do all the work as she grinded back and forth on your lap. As much as you enjoyed watching her bounce up and down atop you, taking your full length in and out of her body - taking special delight in the delicious bounce it gave her breasts and thighs - there was something to be said for the intimacy of the way she was riding you now, slowly and softly. It gave her a chance to grind her slick, swollen clit against your crotch, and while it only let a third or so of your cock slip in and out of her hot, slippery cunt with each entry and exit, each movement nonetheless caused a warm spike of pleasure to course up your spine as your cock moves around inside her.

She was so beautiful, so utterly ethereal and intensely erotic all at the same time - clothed simultaneously in perfect golden sunlight and slick sweat, saliva, and other fluids. She was ethereal beauty and dirty sex. She wore both, was utterly enrapturing in both, was equally comfortable in both.

You watch each movement of her body - a body you knew well, knew every peak and curve and valley of - and you never tired of it. You watch as her round, full thighs flex and work, as her tight core drives her lower body back and forth, as her small, perfect breasts sway and bounce. Her face is immaculate, soft features twisted and wracked by pleasure. Sweat glistens over all of it. It makes her perfect skin glisten and glimmer in the sunlight.

You take a moment to look over her shoulder at the dressing mirror behind her, relishing the sight of her back - the beautiful curve of her spine and the sweat dripping down that delicious valley; the round cheeks of her ass and the muscles beneath them as they work to fuck herself on your cock; the short glimpses of your balls as she moves back and forth, takes you in and out of her body. Even her hair, having started the morning pulled into a messy bun, has become disheveled and loose - but in a way that is enticing and alluring, glued to the back of her neck and upper shoulders by perspiration.

Your right hand, resting on her thigh, snakes a path up her body - up her chiselled abs, cupping a soft breast and delighting in the tightness of her nipple as you capture it with your thumb and index finger and give it a pull, a twist, a pinch. Her pussy pulsates in response around you. She is sighing and moaning her pleasure when your hand continues its journey, sliding up a sweaty neck until you reach the side of her face.

Her eyes, shut, drift open at your touch.

You give the chain a jerk forward.

Her entire upper body crashes against yours at the sudden pull at her neck. Your lips find and capture hers, and for a few moments you share a passionate, heavy kiss. As your tongues duel you give her a slight thrust upward with your hips, timed to meet the apex of her grind - and she sighs into your mouth at the movement, eyes shutting again, nails digging into your shoulders.

Spurred by her reaction, you continue to thrust upward as best you can given your sitting position. Her cunt, already so wet and slick and hot, clenches around you with each thrust, welcoming you, taking you.

“Oh god,” she sighs, the first full words either of you have spoken in a while. “Oh god, I’m close-“

Her sentence breaks into a moan, a soft, wordless cry of pleasure as you continue your thrusts upwards into her body. She wraps her arms around your shoulders, burying your face against her warm, moist chest. You lick the sweat from between her dangling breasts. You savour each moan that leaves her mouth, heavy and hot, directly into your ears.

The chain drops from your left hand, its end falling with a soft clink onto the hardwood floor of your apartment. Forgotten for now, because the faux, pretend-ownership it represented was no longer needed, was perhaps never necessary.

She orgasms around you - pussy clenching, lungs emptying of breath as she cries her pleasure into your bedroom. Your hands find themselves clutching at her moist, sweaty back, hugging her to you, bringing your bodies as close together as possible.

“Your cum, inside me,” she hisses, her voice soft and almost vulnerable in your ear, still at the height of her orgasm. “Please, I want, I need it, please.”

Im Nayeon knew you - knew every part of what made you tick. She knew what you wanted to hear, knew when you wanted to hear it.

You thrust upward into her clenching, creamy cunt one last time. Every part of her body surrounds you, wraps itself around you: she buries your head into her chest, fingers interwoven into your hair, cradling you with her arms and legs as her cunt clenches and tightens around your cock.

Your shaft spurts warm, thick cum into her. She lets a sigh leave her breathless lips with each pulse of your cock inside her, knowing each one was another rope of cum that would bind your bodies even further together.

Your fluids mix inside her, eventually sliding out between the pussy lips stretched tight around the base of your cock. It drips down your shaft, your balls, and onto the chair. You are sticky everywhere - on your sweaty chests, your slick thighs, but especially where you are joined together, your shaft still embedded hilt deep inside her. You are glued together, made one.

You sigh into her chest, and the nails that had dug furrows into your scalp now stroke it softly. The exhaustion hits you both at once, and for a few wonderful moments the only sound either of you can hear is the sound of heavy breathing.

Her hands eventually slide from your scalp. Her turn now to cradle your face in her hands. Your faces hover in front of each other, noses barely touching, half-lidded, pleasure-ridden eyes locked on one another.

For a moment her left hand moves to her neck, where she undoes and releases the clasp of the red leather collar. It slips from her body and falls to the floor.

“I belong to you,” she says, breathless, not needing some scrap of leather around her neck to convince you of it - not that she ever needed such a thing to begin with. Her hands cradle your face, palms on each cheek, like you are the most delicate thing in the world. Your arms wrap themselves even tighter around her soft, trembling torso. Your foreheads touch, your eyes close.

“I know,” you answer. “I always have.”

Later that morning, when she is snoring peacefully, you slip out of the bed. Your flight to Korea wasn’t until later that afternoon, and so you had some time to spare before you had to leave the house, and her, for god knew how long. Every part of you wanted to lie there in bed with her and savour every moment of it, not knowing when you’d next be able to do so - but you had decided the night before that something needed to be done, and there was no better time to do it.

You fire up the coffee maker - you’d both settled into specific domestic roles since moving in together, and you were almost immediately appointed Minister of Caffeinated Beverages - and take a seat at the kitchen island with your laptop.

A few minutes later, and you’d begun an email to JYP informing him of your intention to resign your position following the end of your next business trip.

Distance had taken her from you once, and it wouldn’t do it again.

---

“Is she being a good girl?”

“Yes, Nayeon,” you say, your answer somewhere between a sigh and a hiss as you press your phone close to your ear, ensuring only you could hear the voice on the other side of the call. You made sure to use her name, as she’d previously suggested, knowing what hearing it would do to the young woman you were currently sharing a hotel room with.

Between your legs, Yuna gives the tip of your cock a swirl with the end of her tongue. Those large doe eyes glance up at you, the mention of your girlfriend’s name giving the topless young woman a small spike of wicked delight. You watch with a measure of your own satisfaction as she pumps your cock with one hand, the other fondling her own small, round breast and the tight nipple atop it. After a moment her hand drifts down her body, between her legs - and soon after she begins to sigh and moan around a mouthful of your shaft as she begins to pleasure herself.

“Good,” Nayeon continues. “I told you she would be. Did you fuck her on the plane, too?”

“Yes, we’ve started the operation. And yeah, Korea’s hot this time of year,” you say, keeping up the false pretence you both agreed upon.

“Let me guess - she’s on her knees? Are you fucking that pretty little mouth of hers?”

“Not yet,” you answer, “I think I’ll let the team continue to observe before we move.” Your eyes drift closed as the pleasure begins to build. You lean your head back slightly as the young woman between your knees increases her pace. What Yuna lacked in experience and technique, she more than made up for with enthusiasm.

On the line, you hear a soft sigh. A moment later, the sigh turns into a barely audible moan.

“What about you?” you ask. “Are you busy? How’s work?”

“Fine. I’m… alone. In a squad car.”

“On a stakeout?”

“We prefer the term ‘distanced surveillance,’ but yes, a stakeout.”

“You miss me?”

“Fuck,” you hear, followed by a soft hum. “Yes, I miss you,” she admits.

A thousand miles away, you smirk. The image of Nayeon alone, in her car, in an alleyway, a hand down her pants, touching herself to the sound of her boyfriend getting head from another woman - it aroused you more than the young woman between your knees, truth be told.

“Do you… miss me?” she asks.

You reach out with your free hand, cradling the side of Yuna’s head, running your fingertips through the bright red strands. She redoubles her efforts at your touch - she quickens her pace, her hand squeezing tighter around your shaft as her head continues to bob up and down its length.

“Fuck, I want you right now, Nayeon,” you hiss, knowing what repeating her name would do to the younger woman filling her mouth with your shaft. “I wish you were here.”

Between your legs, the moan Yuna lets out around your cock sends a delicious pulse of pleasure up your spine. On the line, Nayeon lets a similar moan escape her lips.

“Tell me what you would do to me,” Nayeon says, tone low and deep, the way it was when she was desperate, needy. “I bet she’d do it for you.”

You bite your lip for a second - listening to Nayeon’s increasingly breathless sighs and picturing her becoming a writhing, wet little mess in her car, watching Yuna try and fail to wrest your attention away - taking it all in, savouring every second of the two women, a thousand miles apart, each doing their best to pleasure you in their own way.

“I’d pull your mouth off my cock,” you say, gripping the base of Yuna’s ponytail and easing her off your shaft. She looks up with you with those large doe eyes of hers, momentarily confused, temporarily disappointed at the sudden emptiness in her mouth - until she quickly catches on to your intentions.

“Mmm, more,” Nayeon says, on the verge of a plea.

“I’d tell you to strip, and get your cunt on my cock like a good little girl.”

And just as she predicted, Yuna does exactly that - peels off ridiculously short denim shorts she wore, along with the flimsy scrap of string beneath it that passed for a thong. She climbs atop you, straddles your waist, reaches between your bodies, grasps your slick cock and spends just a second rubbing your head against her dripping, slick lips.

And then she takes you inside her. On the line, Nayeon hears that unmistakable gasp you made whenever you entered her own cunt, and it drives her crazy. Her fingers work quickly between her legs.

A thousand miles away, you watch as Yuna bounces her young, tight little body on your cock - up and down, up and down, up and down. She is rough, fast, impatient, with little technique but plenty of need.

Your free hand grips a thigh before snaking up her torso, gripping a soft, bouncing breast and pinching the taut nipple between two fingers and giving it a slight slap from the side that elicits a yelp of pleasure from the young woman. Your cock stretches her tight little cunt with each entry, filling her up, making her need more, want more, making her lose her control over her senses - not that she had much to begin with.

She is enthusiastic, needy - but she is clumsy in her movements, inexperienced, drunk on the idea of being used and fucked and not possessing the control to savour the moment, make it anything more memorable than a messy, quick fuck.

She sighs and moans. “Daddy,” she gasps, uncaring now of being heard on the line, forgetting that you were supposed to be fucking her on the down low, under your girlfriend’s nose. “Daddy please, I need… Daddy please, your cum, inside me, I want-”

You remind her of her place by closing your hand around her throat. Not enough to cause pain, but enough to remind her of what she was - a fucktoy. Something to warm your cock while you were apart from the woman you really wanted. A substitute for a woman a thousand miles away.

“Is she… is she good for you?” Nayeon asks, voice betraying the fact that she was bringing herself to the edge. She’s wet and squirming and sighing - but she’s alone, in her car, far away.

Her fingers aren’t you.

Yuna continues to fuck herself on your cock, recklessly and wildly, her orgasm doing little to slow or stop her. You watch as she bites down hard on her lower lip, enough to draw blood, doing her best to keep herself from vocalizing the pleasure coursing through her body and only partially succeeding. You knew she’d be especially loud once you’d ended the call. You consider pretending to end it but leaving the line open, just to give Nayeon the satisfaction of hearing what Shin Yuna sounded like when she was being bent over the bed and having her tight little pussy pounded full of cum.

Your fingers tighten around Yuna’s neck as she bounces with an increasingly wild pace atop your cock. It forces her to slow down, forces her to submit to you and your needs. It reminds her of her place, reminds her who she was. It was necessary.

A makeshift leash.

“She’s good, Nayeon,” you admit. “But she’s not you.”

---

“Alright, I have to admit - she’s pretty fucking perfect for you.”

“There’s something I never thought I’d hear you say,” you admit, looking up from your laptop and the report on it to give Shin Yuna a look. The young woman is lounging about on her stomach your hotel room bed, picking away at a plate of room service french fries. She’d taken a shower, but hadn’t bothered to put her clothes back on after you’d bent her over the bed and fucked a load into her.

“She’s a bitch, don’t get me wrong,” she continues, tone casual, as though she weren’t naked on her boss’ hotel room bed with his cum still warm inside her. “But she’s really fucking pretty, and she’s a cop? Man. That’s a dream girl for most guys, you have to admit.”

“I suppose,” you say, flatly. “Where are you going with this, Yuna?”

“Nowhere,” she answers, popping another fry into her mouth. “I was just curious, I guess.”

“About?”

“About why you’re not married yet. About why there aren’t little hellspawn baby versions of her running around in your life.”

The thought is finally enough to wrest your attention from the report for good. You give the young woman atop your bed a look.

“Listen, I think it’s hot as fuck to be some exec’s fucktoy,” Yuna continues. “I just want to make sure I’m not the thing that’s keeping him from marrying the love of his life or some shit.”

“You’re not stopping anything, Yuna,” you state, clearly, ensuring that she didn’t form any wrong impressions. You certainly didn’t want her to overestimate her role in your life. “Trust me,” you add.

“So then what is stopping you? You’re in love, aren’t you?” Yuna continues. “I’ve heard all about your past with her from the company grapevine, and Dahyun filled me in on the rest. College sweethearts finding each other again in a foreign land after so long apart - that’s cute as fuck. So why isn’t there a ring on her finger and a baby in her belly?”

You are struck temporarily wordless by your executive assistant’s forwardness, but the answer comes to you eventually.

“We’re not ready yet,” you state.

Yuna seems satisfied with your answer - or at least, isn’t curious enough to pursue it further. She gives you a shrug before she picks up her phone and begins to scroll on it. “Whatever you say, boss,” she says.

You return your attention to your laptop, and the resignation email to JYP that was sitting in your drafts. Sending it would mean leaving a career that, in many ways, had defined you. Yes, it had played a major role in bringing Nayeon back into your life, but were you really ready to give up the adventures in distant lands, not to mention all the romance and intrigue and excitement said adventures brought with them?

Your cursor hovers over the send icon.

—

Problem 2: Her job.

As it turned out, JYP was more than happy to do whatever it took to keep you with the company - even if it meant giving you a tidy little promotion along with a promise to make any further business trips entirely optional. That was Problem 1 solved, then - leaving only Problem 2.

For the most part, Nayeon did a good job of keeping her work at work and not taking it home with her. Every now and then she’d vent about a particularly hard case she was on, or tell you about how something an actor did in a movie or tv show was wildly inaccurate compared to standard law enforcement procedures in the real world. By and large you could almost forget that she was a senior detective who regularly found herself in situations the average person might consider dangerous.

This was all to say that you only rarely gave Nayeon’s profession any thought, had you not noticed the breaking news report playing on the large TV screen in the JYP lobby on your way back from lunch one afternoon.

A reporter, apparently on scene, is speaking into the camera - but the TV is muted, and the captions are not turned on. Behind him civilians flee from a building under the guidance of two understandably anxious-looking uniformed police officers with their sidearms drawn. “Active hostage situation underway at downtown bank,” read the ticker. “Multiple hostages and casualties reported.”

You were ready to give it no further thought aside from a passing sense of disappointment at the general state of crime in your country, had you not caught a fleeting glimpse of her on the screen.

In the background, behind the reporter, Nayeon steps into frame, her back to the camera - but it was unmistakably her. She flashes the badge around her neck to the two uniformed cops nervously holding the bank entrance door.

You watch as she draws her sidearm from the holster at her hip, racks the slide to chamber a round, and rushes into the building.

To say the next few hours were absolutely nerve wracking would be an understatement.

Yes, you’d known that danger and the possibility of being hurt were part and parcel of being a member of active law enforcement. You were in the room when she was quite literally shot at close range in Seoul - a few layers of kevlar being the only thing that kept her from bleeding out on a dirty apartment floor.

You’d done your best to avoid having to deal with the reality that your girlfriend had a relatively dangerous profession. Maybe it was a subconscious thing - maybe your brain knew that living every day in fear of your girlfriend losing her life was not exactly conducive to a healthy relationship - or a healthy mental state.

Whatever the reason, it didn’t really hit home until that day. You’d never been so worried in your life, staying glued to the TV and your phone and news sites, pacing nervously alone in your apartment, grasping for any snippet of an update that would confirm she was okay, that she was safe. Needless to say she wasn’t picking up her phone, and a call to her precinct lieutenant went unanswered.

You’d learn later that she was never in any actual danger - the gunfire she’d heard turned out to be warning shots fired into the ceiling to intimidate the bank staff. Nayeon, who’d been passing by the building randomly on her lunch break, had decided that civilians were in immediate danger and entered the bank on her own volition, cleared out the remaining customers from the bank lobby, and held down the hallway leading to the safety deposit boxes where the suspects were holed up until SWAT arrived.

As the first responder to the scene, protocol demanded she remain on-site until it was resolved, explaining the length of her absence. She wasn’t actually in danger for very long, she’d later insist.

But she knew none of that when she rushed into the building, gun in hand. For all she’d known there could have easily been a suspect pointing an assault rifle down the hallway, finger on the trigger, just waiting for an eager young detective to stray into his sights. Moreover, her nine millimetre sidearm and lack of kevlar would’ve put her in a precarious position had they decided to make an escape using force.

Nonetheless, you were more relieved than you’d ever been in your life when she finally called to tell you she was on her way home - eight hours and forty-nine minutes since you’d made your first unanswered call to her cell phone (the first of thirty).

Your heart let out the breath it had been holding for nine hours.

---

When she finally got home it was a lot, all at once.

It was relief, mostly, and then reassurance, and comfort, followed shortly by an irresistible, intense lust. Danger never failed to get Im Nayeon going.

Within seconds of bursting through the door she was already on you, arms wrapped around your neck as yours wrapped around hers, lips searching for and quickly pulling yours into a deep, passionate kiss. Her leather jacket quickly leaves her body, her fingers immediately going to work on your button-up. While this hurried undressing was happening, when your lips parted long enough to draw in a breath, she’d tried, in broken sentences, to fill you in on what had happened.

You pieced enough together from her jumbled words to get an idea of how her day went, and how she wasn’t allowed to contact you until the incident was resolved. You wanted to ask her more, wanted to know more about what exactly happened, but she was in no mood for talking. Her lips and tongue stole the words and questions from your mouth before you could give them voice.

You are naked before long, stumbling into the bedroom and leaving behind a trail of haphazardly discarded clothing. She pushes you onto the bed with more force than you were ready for - silencing any objections by quickly climbing atop you, straddling your lap as you sit on its edge. Your mouths find each other and your tongues continue their frantic duel. Before long you slip from her lips to kiss a rough trail down her neck and to her chest.

You capture a breast in your mouth, closing your lips around her taut nipple. “Fuck,” she gasps, her hands quickly burying themselves in your hair, nails digging almost painfully into your scalp as you suckle from her tight bud.

A small part of you wants to slow down - perhaps even stop altogether - and tell her how damn worried you were for her, how the last nine hours were the longest nine hours you’d ever had in your life. But she steals your words again, this time with some of her own.

“Hard,” she hisses between gritted teeth, “I want it hard.”

She reaches between you, points your tip at her dripping entrance, and takes you inside her.

The long, hot sigh that escapes your lips finally rips them from her nipple. For the next few minutes you are powerless to do more than breathe heavily between her breasts as she rides you - those toned, full thighs of her working to throw her body up and down your shaft, taking you in and out of her tight, warm little cunt.

“Nayeon, I-” you begin, finally finding the wherewithal after a few minutes to look up at her.

She silences you with a finger to your lips. Her eyes are half-lidded, but hungry.

“Shut up,” she spits. “Just shut up.”

You were not one to argue, not when you were balls deep inside the most beautiful woman you’d ever known. And so you content yourself with watching as Nayeon took her pleasure from your body, using your cock like a toy, impaling herself with it over and over again until she became a mewling, moaning mess atop your lap.

You grasp her thighs, squeeze her bouncing breasts and tease the nipples atop them, slide your hand up her chest and up her throat and to her jaw before sliding your thumb between her lips for her to suck as you cradle the side of her pleasure-filled face - and throughout it all she rides you, pace relentless, merciless, hard.

Soon she is cumming - and she shows no sign of stopping, fucking herself through her orgasm even as her body is wracked by pleasure. She trembles, shakes, and quivers atop you - but it doesn’t stop her, doesn’t come close to fulfilling her immense need. She wants more. She needs more.

Even as her orgasm radiates throughout her body and turns her into a wet, writhing mess, you hold her tight to you as you turn her over, putting her on her back atop the bed while you rise to your feet next to it. You wrap her legs around your waist, pull her hips onto yours, and continue to fuck her - hard, fast, rough.

She sighs and moans and cries and you are content to let her, content to let out some of the frustration and worry and fear you’d held inside you for most of the day on her tight, helpless little body. Her breasts bounce deliciously atop her heaving chest. Her fingers are claws, finding purchase wherever she can - on the bedsheets and your forearms, mostly. Eventually she reaches down and fingers her own clit, even as your cock pumps in and out between the lips of her cunt, just beyond her fingertips. Her eyes spur you on - telling you to keep fucking her, keep using her, all without saying a single word.

Your hands leave her hips, pulling on her legs until her calves are atop your shoulders. You continue to pound into her all along, this new position leaving her cunt open and exposed, rendering her helpless to do anything but take each hard, fast thrust you make into her body. It is almost callous, the way you fuck her, as though she were some whore and not the love of your life. You use her cunt. You make it yours, remind her who it belonged to.

Her moans build, rising in volume and signalling another impending orgasm. You want to join her, and are about to give in, about to fill her-

“My ass,” she gasps. “Fuck my ass.”

She pulls her sweaty, still trembling body off you, denying you the warm slickness of her cunt. Her pussy drips onto the bedsheets as she wastes no time, getting atop the bed on her knees, upper body pressed against the bed. She reaches back with her hands, palming the cheeks of her ass, spreading them apart, showing you what she’d been keeping inside her.

And there it is, red silicone, glistening and slick with lube.

The sight of it takes your breath away. You let an unexpected sigh of pleasure leave your lips as you grasp the toy with your fingers, easing it out of her body slowly. She moans as it leaves her, perhaps in pain or pleasure or both. Soon it’s finally out. Every molecule in her body yearns to replace its absence.

Grasping your cock, slick and wet with her juices, you press the tip against her open, gaping hole - and begin to slide inside her.

You’d had her ass before, but never after she’d had a plug inside her, and it is sublime. Her ass immediately closes and tightens around you, and you think right then and there that you might cum. Your hand clutches her ass and left hip, fingers digging deep into the soft, yielding flesh, relishing the pleasure coursing through your veins but fighting it before it gets too intense, wanting to prolong this moment. She sighs and moans as she adjusts to your size. She trembles at the feeling of her ass being filled.

“Mmmm,” she hisses into the sheets, evidently having lost the ability to form words. She reaches back as far as she can with a free hand, her long fingers clutching your thigh. She pulls you toward her, and you oblige, pressing yourself as deep as you can until you are hilt deep.

“Do it,” she spits from between gritted teeth, “Fuck my ass. Hard.”

And so you begin - fucking Im Nayeon’s ass with hard, long strokes, using her tight, hot hole with the same tempo and speed as you did her cunt just moments earlier. She moans and shrieks and gasps into the sheets, the side of her face pressed against the bed, saliva dripping from a slack mouth. Her fingers are claws, digging into the sheets or your thighs or both, searching for something, anything, to ground herself amidst the constant pounding into the most vulnerable part of her body.

“Fuck, Nayeon,” you say, your brain unable to form much more than a curse and her name. She is so tight, so very hot - and she’d ensured the toy was well lubed before it entered her, so she was slick enough to make every entry and exit so delicious, so utterly sublime; a perfect cocktail of pleasure and pain all mixed into one irresistible sensation.

For the first time in a while Nayeon lifts her head from the bed, sweat pasting dark strands to the side of her face. She opens her mouth to say something-

But you reach forward, grasping her by the back of her neck, and slamming her back down onto the bed. She shrieks - partially in surprise, mostly in pleasure - as you resume pounding her.

“Shut up,” you spit. “Just shut up.”

The thick cotton bedsheets can do little to hide the long, deep moan of pleasure that leaves Nayeon’s lips as you impose yourself on her. She continues, not stopping for a moment, letting a drivel of wordless pleasure leave her mouth with each thrust you make into her body. She reaches a hand down, plays with her wet, slick clit even as you pound relentlessly into her ass - pleasuring her, hurting her - either way, making her yours.

The hand at her neck doesn’t leave her - it merely moves to her upper back, still keeping her pinned to the mattress, making sure she could do nothing more than take you. She lets you. She gives herself to you, lets you do what you want to her, because this - a rough, hard fuck - was what she wanted, what she craved.

It doesn’t take her long to orgasm, with her fingers on her clit and your cock pounding hard into her asshole. She tightens even more around you. She screams her pleasure into the bedsheets.

She clenches around your cock when she cums. It sends you over the edge, and you push yourself as deep as you can into Im Nayeon’s ass before you cum, filling her depths with thick, hot semen. Her moans turn into whimpers and then sobs, and you think for a moment that she might be crying.

You want to stay there, as you often did after you came inside her. You want to relish the moment and the sight of your cock embedded inside her ass and the feeling of her body wrapped around yours. But the accumulated physical and mental exhaustion of the day hit you all at once, and you collapse atop her, your arms only barely keeping you from crashing onto her back as you land on your elbows, still hilt-deep inside her.

You find the strength to bring your mouth to her ear. Filthy sex and dirty fucking aside, she had to know.

“I belong to you,” you say.

“I know,” she answers. Beneath the sweaty, messy hair and heavy breaths, Nayeon smiles.

—

The next morning, while you are still asleep, she wakes up early to make breakfast. She rarely cooked - every food delivery driver within a ten mile radius knew how to get to your apartment by heart - but when she did it was for special occasions. Or, in this case, a form of apology for making you worry so much the day before.

She’s stumbling towards the kitchen - she was understandably more than a little sore in places that made walking difficult - when she catches a glimpse of her old criminology textbooks on the hallway bookshelf.

She was a fairly sentimental person, and despite your efforts she wouldn’t get rid of the old, heavy texts. She insisted that they were a part of what made her who she was, and wanted to keep them as a reminder of how far she’d come in her career; privately, she kept them to remind herself of those hard months when you’d left to join JYP all those years ago, and how much she missed being away from you. Those months were difficult, and she’d turned to her career as a way of coping. Those months were instrumental in putting her on the path to becoming a detective, but they were also part of what drove her to Seoul to find you.

A thought strikes her as her eyes take in titles of the texts. She reaches out and lets her fingertips graze their worn covers, seeing in them a way to ensure her career would never worry you so much again.

---

And so the problems were solved. All it took was a few uncomfortable emails, a few months of occasionally stressful worrying and intense interviews, and two new job offers. Easy peasy.

You’d taken a job at a branch office of JYP that promised travel would be completely optional. Nayeon had quit the PD and become a professor in criminology at a local college. You’d moved out of the small downtown apartment that had been the home you’d shared for the past five years, and into a slightly more comfortable townhouse in the suburbs.

Time passed. Good days and bad days. She was there for all of them, making the good days sweeter and the bad days more bearable. She was home. Safe harbour and north star for each other.

You are both sitting in a cafe on a lazy Sunday morning - you’re reading a book and nursing a coffee while she’s grading some papers on her laptop. You loved many things about your relationship, but one of the things you appreciated the most was how comfortable you both were in silence. The years had given you both a familiarity that had often transcended the need for speaking. Most of the time, you knew what the other was thinking, even before they spoke.

Your presence was enough, and there was no need to fill the space between you with words for the sake of it.

After awhile you look up to her to find that she’d been watching you, apparently for some time.

“I think we’re ready,” she says, a warm, soft smile on her lips.

She says no more, returning her attention to her laptop, but you know what she means.

You smile as you return to your book.

---

Im Nayeon could always surprise you.

You’d had her more times than you could count, but this night was different - it was important, special in a way none of the in-shower quickies or weekend-long marathon sessions were. Just when you’d thought sex and lovemaking could hold no more surprises, you are proven wrong.

“It’s you,” she sighs into your ear, her voice soft, still filled with pleasure, but with an undercurrent of emotion that you’d never heard in her before. One of her arms wraps itself around your back, the other buried into the hair at the back of your neck as you thrust in and out of her body.

“Cum inside me,” she continues, breathless, words spilling from her lips in a long, drawn out hiss. “Fill me up. It has to be you. Breed me, put a baby in my belly. I want it- I want you. It has to be you. It’s only ever been you.”

“Nayeon,” you say into her ear, and when she replies with your own name you think it is the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard in your life.

She is tight, wet, hot - she feels every bit as good as she did when you were teenagers fumbling awkwardly in an old dorm room, or when you were reunited old flames brought together by fate in Seoul, or when you moved in together and decided to build lives together. But it means more now. It means more now than it ever did.

“Give me a baby,” she says, half-moan, half-sigh. “Breed me, make me yours.”

Words you’d heard before, from the same lips, on many another night. But none like tonight, not when she meant them more than she ever did - this wasn’t pillow talk, an act meant to spice up a risqué encounter; no, this was much more. She meant every word, without pretence or facade. She meant it all.

“Nayeon,” you repeat, unable to say much else. The sound of her name on your lips draws a sigh from hers, sends a quiver up her spine that is pure pleasure and love.

“It has to be you,” she whispers into your ear, the most intimate words she has ever spoken. “It was always you - I love you.”

“I love you too,” you say, every molecule of your body shouting the words, even if they left your lips as little more than a light gasp.

You thrust between her spread legs, and she wraps her thighs and arms around you, making the two of you into one.

You fill her. She sighs, moans - and when your cheeks press against each other as you both lie there, breathing heavily - you can feel her cheeks pull her lips into a smile.

---

“It was always going to be you and me, wasn’t it?”

You are caught a little off-guard by her words - truth be told your mind was solely fixated on the humble sign outside your favourite sushi restaurant and the familiar but delicious culinary delights that awaited you. It’s a Friday night, and you were looking forward to a quiet dinner with her following a long, draining week of work.

The choice of dining establishment was a foregone conclusion, and you had nothing on your mind other than settling into a simple but comforting meal with her. Grand statements of destined love weren't exactly on your mind - not this early in the evening, anyway.

But when you turn to her and find a soft, warm smile on her lips, you couldn’t help but agree. She doesn’t even turn to look at you - her gaze, like yours, is locked on the old, dingy, familiar restaurant sign.

“Yes,” you answer, the word leaving your lips quickly, almost on instinct, almost on reflex, as though your body knew the truth - knew what you felt, in your innermost core. “It was always going to be you, Nayeon.”

She doesn’t turn her head to look at you. There is a slight deepening of the smile on her lips, a slightly deeper blush on her cheeks, but that’s it. She doesn’t need to read your face to verify or discern the truth in your expression. She is confident enough - in the years you’ve spent together, in the trials and tribulations borne at each others’ side, to know the truth in your words.

She feels it in the way you clutch her hand, the way you hold her close in your most intimate moments, the way you brush stray hairs away from her forehead when you kiss her good morning before heading out the door to work.

She sees it in the slight swell in her belly, and the family you were building together.

She knows all this. She feels it all, deep inside herself where nothing else exists except you and her and the home you’ve built with shared memories. She knows it is all true, always will be.

When you enter the restaurant you are greeted warmly with a smile and hug by the waiter - he’s become a good friend in the years since your escapades in Tokyo and Seoul. From behind the counter, Jisoo looks up from her prep work to wave and smile widely. She leaves the counter for a moment to greet you both, revealing the full roundness of her belly. She waddles awkwardly over, exchanging hugs, confirming plans for next week’s gender reveal dinner party for their child.

With one hand, Nayeon cradles Jisoo’s full belly. Perhaps unconsciously, her free hand hovers over her own, a warm, thoughtful smile on her lips.

Eventually, Jisoo shuffles adorably back to the counter to finish her vegetable prep, promising to come back later to chat. The waiter shows you to your table, leaving you both two cups of tea.

He doesn’t leave a menu, because he already knows your order.

You tap the chest pocket of your jacket as you take it off and drape it over the back of your seat, making sure the small box and the engagement ring within were still there.

Nayeon cups her tea in both hands before taking a small sip. She finally locks eyes with you, although she doesn’t say anything. She knows she doesn’t have to. She’s content just to smile, content to reach her hand over the table, palm up, wanting nothing more than to feel your hand in hers.

Maybe she knew what was coming. Maybe she caught a glimpse of the box in your nightstand drawer, or noticed an open tab on your browser for a local jewelry store. Maybe she read it in your face at some point today, in the way you moved or the words you chose. She was a former detective and current professor of criminology, after all. She’d made a living out of reading people, and to her, you were an open book.

But it didn’t matter whether she knew it was coming or not, whether she would be surprised at all when, at the end of your meal, you got down on one knee in this restaurant where your relationship began and asked her to spend the rest of her life with you.

Because you both already knew, on some level had always known. It was always going to be you and her. And every trial and tribulation, every painful relationship with long-gone lovers, every day apart - it had all led to tonight.

Nayeon’s hand finds yours and your fingers intertwine.

Your heart warms at her touch.

---

Author’s Note: Good to be back ^^ Excuse any writing rust that was evident in this fic :( I actually had this alternate ending to BT mostly written awhile ago, but I'd been thinking about coming back to writing again and Nayeon's comeback gave me all the inspiration I needed to finally finish it.

Shoutout to @capslocked, whose work played a part in getting me back into writing. A special shoutout to his Tzuyu fic, which is probably one of my favorite smuts of all time - and I might have borrowed the phone sex idea from it. Love ya bud. Mimosa fic next pls k thx.

Stories and posts will be few and far between, but you’re always welcome to leave an ask. Thank you all for the love and support you've shown me over the past year. <3

#twice #nayeon #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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stillfoodforguys · 4 months

Text

I was supposed to check out of the Airbnb I was staying in for a work trip, but due to a cancelled flight I couldn’t get home until tomorrow. I figured that since the guy who owned the house wasn’t around, I could probably get away with staying an extra night. What’s the worst that could happen?

While taking a shower the following morning, I didn’t hear the front door click open. It was only until someone’s loud, heavy footsteps approached that I became aware of the owner’s presence, right before he swung the bathroom door open. The rugged bear raised an eyebrow and eyed my naked body up and down, while I cowered in the corner wondering what trouble I might have just got myself into.

“What the fuck are you still doing here? I came here to clean up after you were gone, but here you are still enjoying MY home as though it’s your own.” With my back already against the cold tiled wall behind me, I had nowhere to run as he walked towards me. I tried to push him away when he got close enough, but he swiftly caught my arms and gripped them hard as he glared at me. “There’s only one way I know how to deal with rule-breakers like you, and I was just starting to get hungry…”

He opened his mouth wide, the surfaces inside glistening with a coating of saliva that dripped down from his teeth. He shoved my arms down his throat, which immediately took a firm hold of me to prevent my escape. He must have gotten his strength from doing a lot of manual labour, as I could feel his rough plans scratch against my skin as his hands travelled down my body to grab my hips. I pleaded for him to reconsider, but I was silenced once he slurped my head past his lips.

Without any further distraction, he was free to savour what little of my raw flavour hadn’t been washed off my body yet. His tongue ran through every groove in my body as he consumed the rest of me, sighing as my full weight settled into his stomach. He stared at his round, firm ball belly in the mirror and let out a roaring belch, looking forward to digesting his unwanted house guest.

#gay vore #mm vore #oral vore #digestion

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prettiestlovergirl · 7 months

Text

RIDE-ALONG

tw: MDNI; fem!reader; tour bus sex; riding; unprotected sex (wrap it b4 you tap it); slight breeding kink; praise kink; light hand job; light thigh riding; hickeys; drummer! luke

a/n: pushing the drummer! luke au agenda!! bcos it is hot as fuck and makes me very happy. n YES, i'm using mami as a nickname, bcos i'm a latina, and i'm deeply obsessed with being called mami. unedited, lol. enjoy, my lovelies! 𓆩♡𓆪

it had been three long months since luke had gone on tour with the band.

you were proud of him, of course you were proud, but you missed him so much. the phone calls, text messages, and face times just weren't cutting it anymore!

you were supposed to fly out a visit him next week, but you just couldn't wait any longer. you booked the next flight out, asked his bandmate chris which bar they were heading to once you landed, and called an uber.

luke had been ecstatic to see you, not even giving you a few minutes to greet the rest of the band before practically mauling you. "fuck, mami, what are you doing here?!" he had grinned, his hands instantly finding your waist and pulling you close.

before you could even attempt to explain, he had muttered a quick "fuck it, i don't care why" and dragged you right back out of the bar without another word to his friends.

they teasingly whistled and cheered as you walked out, but you couldn't care less. they could tease all they wanted; you were the only ones guaranteed to get laid that night.

neither one of you wanted to wait and uber to a hotel so... the tour bus was really your only option.

the second the door closed, luke pounced on you. his hands grabbed your ass, squeezing it roughly to hear you moan against his lips. "'m so fucking glad you're here, mami." he groaned, his fingers traveling to the front of your shorts to start pulling them off.

"fuck, me too, couldn't wait anymore" you panted, hands gliding under his shirt to feel his smooth skin before tugging the fabric up. he pulled away from your lips, just to get his shirt off before instantly bringing his lips back down to yours.

you quickly slipped off your own shirt before he moved onto his small bed, just barely wide enough to fit you both. you buried your fingers into his hair, grinding down against him while you both moaned in desperation.

your lips trailed down to his neck, kissing and nipping at the skin while he brought his hands down to quickly get his jeans off. you weren't usually one to leave marks along his body, but not seeing him for months turned you a bit possessive.

"so fucking hot." he murmured, groaning as your teeth sunk into his skin again. he moved his hands back up to your hips, helping you grind faster against him.

you felt like a fucking teenager again, grinding against him with the thin layer of your panties and his boxers keeping you from the skin on skin contact you craved more than anything.

"need you, luke." you moaned, fingers reaching down to tug off his boxers, tossing them off along with your panties. they scattered around with the rest of your clothes you'd have to pick up later.

"i know, mami, i know, fuck" he hissed, head falling back against the pillow as your spit-covered hand wrapped around his angry, swollen cock. pre dripped out of his tip as you started slowly jerking him off, grinding your soaked pussy against his leg.

luke's hands gripped your hips, helping you grind against his thigh while your hand moved in steady strokes. your pussy leaked arousal onto his skin, making it easier to gain friction against him.

"can't wait anymore, need you inside me." you whimpered as he nodded, holding your hips tighter as you lifted yourself up, ducking a bit so you wouldn't smack your head into the top bunk.

you let out a guttural moan as you finally started to sink down onto him, nails digging into his skin desperately as he filled you up, inch by delicious inch.

"fuck" he moaned, his hips bucking up into your wet heat, forcing you to take more of him. you let out a gasp as he thrusted up, making you whine as you sunk down until he was completely inside of you.

it knocked the air out of you both, you were both so fucking desperate for one another you nearly came on impact. "fuck, shit, shit, hold on, mami, shit." he groaned, holding you for a second to keep you from moving.

"gonna cum if you move right now just, fuck, give me a second." he panted, closing his eyes for a second and trying to go through his list of horrifically unsexy things to keep from cumming in you instantly.

you pressed your palms against his chest, mouth open as you tried to catch your breath while he stretched your poor, needy pussy wide open.

"need to move, please." you begged, biting your lip as you looked down at him. you did your best not to rock against him, but god it was so hard, you craved the friction he'd been depriving you of for months.

after a beat, he nodded, signaling you could finally start to move. immediately after receiving the okay, you started to rock your hips back and forth, moaning out in pure bliss. he felt so fucking good inside you, you just felt so full.

"aw, come on, mami. i know you can do better than that." he groaned, bucking his hips up into you again just to hear you squeal. you pouted a bit but dug your knees into the mattress as you started to bounce up and down on his cock.

luke moaned as you bounced up and down, loving just how fucking tight you felt around him. so much better than his hand, nothing could possibly feel better than having you here like this.

"yeah, just like that mami, good girl." he praised, bringing one of his hands to start rubbing your swollen n puffy clit. you moaned out happily, speeding up your pace as you continued to bounce on him.

it wasn't long before you started getting closer and closer to the threshold, your pace starting to get uneven and sloppy. his eyes were fixed on where your bodies connected, relishing in the creamy white ring your arousal created at the base of his cock.

luke pulled his hand away from your clit, holding onto your waist tightly before starting to thrust up into you again and again. he kept you steady as he thrusted, practically bruising your cervix with every thrust as you moaned out loudly.

he thrusted into you as you gasped out his name, doing your best to roll your hips with every thrust to create more and more friction. "fuck, gonna make me cum, mami. gonna cum inside you, fuckin' fill you up." he grunted.

"yes, please, fuck." you nodded, rolling your hips faster as your back arched.

"you like that idea, huh? me filling you up?" he let out a slightly strangled chuckle as he continued to thrust, and your hips continued to roll and grind down against him.

he bucked up into you a few more times before his grip loosened, his back hitting the pillow as he came deep inside you. your hips continued to roll against his until your own orgasm came crashing over you and you practically collapsed onto him.

you didn't know how long you laid there like that, his hands around your waist, thumb brushing over your tender skin. you didn't say anything, you didn't have to, there would be time to talk tomorrow. right now, you were both content to lay in your bliss.

well, lay in your bliss until chris started banging on the door. "are you two fuckers done in there? the rest of us have shit to grab!" he called out, making you blush as luke simply groaned.

"fuck off, get it tomorrow! 'm nowhere near done."

ᵈⁱᵛⁱᵈᵉʳ ᵐᵃᵈᵉ ᵇʸ @ᵐᵘʳᵘᶠᶠⁱⁿ

#☆lola writes !#luke castellan #pjo series #pjo #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #luke pjo #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan smut #pjo luke #s #smut #luke smut #drummer! luke

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midnightarcheress · 5 months

Text

woke up wanting to write something with my pretty boy kyle and this was born.

cw: nsfw. f!reader. gaz obsessing over the pretty college girl by his side. implied future stalking ig? unedited. part one | part two

someone catches Kyle’s attention on the plane.

his legs are on the verge of cramping and his breath is ragged, running to board his connection flight at the last call. after falling off a helicopter twice in the last operations, he developed an uneasiness of flying, no matter the aircraft, preferring taking the train over being miles up in the air, even if it triples the travel. but this time, he just wanted to get home the fastest way possible for a much-needed night of sleep in his own bed, instead of the barely cushioned military-issued mattress.

he hopped on the plane and made his way through the corridor, gaze fixed on the numbers under the luggage rack, attentively looking for his spot. he stopped by row thirteen, eyes darting between the number and the woman on the window seat. i could’ve sworn i marked that one when i booked? Kyle checks the boarding ticket again – row 13, seat A. it’s the right seat, why is there someone on it?

an annoyed sigh escapes his lips, gathering the energy to speak up and reclaim his rightfully bought seat. the problem is, he gets ultimately struck when the seat-thief notices him standing and turns to face him. wide eyes meet his brown ones, immediately softening at the sight of your tempting glossy lips and delicate fingers pushing a lock of hair behind your ear. pretty little thing.

“i’m sorry, is this your seat? it was empty on the first flight,” you say, an apologetic tone in your voice as you frantically close the book on your lap and shove it in a bag, “i’ll move back for you–”

“it’s alright, keep it.” he interrupts, throwing his carry-on in the rack and taking the empty middle spot beside you. he smirks at your appreciative nod and watches you settling again on the backrest, buckling the seatbelt at the shining signal hovering your heads and paying extra attention to the flight attendant announcements, even when no one around seems to care. sweet girl, so considerate to everyone.

the plane starts speeding on the runway, and from his peripheral he views your squeezed eyes and nearly white fingers gripping the armrest, breathing quickening during the gravity push of the take off. it takes a moment for you to release your tight grasp and exhale, making his hand twitch with an urge to soothe you, tell you that you’re safe.

he shakes the sensation and leans his head back, focusing on the one thing he can do to pass the time – sleep. but he can’t keep his gaze out of you, glancing to his left whenever you make a movement, no matter how small. the rapid keyboard tapping guides his irises to your laptop screen, catching a few words in a sea of what for him sounds like an alien language. DNA strand? allele? locus mutation?

he sneaks a look through your figure and his eyes land on the familiar blue logo on your hoodie, the same one he always sees on the walk from the market to his flat. uni a couple blocks from me. do you live on campus? or nearby? that neighborhood is awful at night, full of old blokes searching the pubs for a quick fuck with a naive college girl. but you seem smart, not the type to fall for their tricks, right?

the harder he tries to avoid your presence, the more you make yourself known, almost making him feel like it’s on purpose. the way your plump lips wrap on the water bottle, slight drop scaping on the corner and trailing down your neck, your flowery perfume filling his nostrils when you shift on your seat to remove the top layer of your clothing, exposing the low-cut blouse underneath and the soft roundness of your tits. is that for me, sweet girl? need a break from studying so hard? the sudden tightness of his trousers brings him back to his senses, stirring the thought out of his brain.

keep it cool, Garrick, he repeats over and over in his mind, ignoring the tent forming on his lap and praying to whatever god is out there that you won’t see it, even while standing up and brushing your legs on his knees to get to the corridor due the cramped space. however, he doesn’t miss how the guy by his side shamelessly ogles your cleavage when you step past him, making his blood boil and his fists clench – like he wasn’t doing the same exact thing minutes before.

while you're away, he glances at your screen again, noticing the constant message notifications from the contact ‘Marcus - DO NOT ANSWER’. already looking bad for you, mate. curiosity takes hold of him and he starts reading the texts, silently chuckling at the guy’s pathetic attempts to get your attention. what did he do to earn a cold shoulder, sweetheart? did he hurt you? didn’t he pay enough attention to you? i bet he couldn’t even fuck you the way you deserve.

he keeps skimming the messages until the grin tugging on the corners of his mouth fades into a frown when he reads ‘you’re gonna regret leaving me’. now, who’s this prick? think you’ll get away with threatening my girl?

his body stiffens when you come back, eyes darting back to the small telly in front of him when your hand brushes on his thigh while sitting once again. he hears your irritated huff when you skim through the messages, shutting the laptop with near violence. i can take care of him for you, love. you won’t have to deal with that by yourself anymore.

the pilot’s muffled voice coming through the speakers and announcing the landing shortens his daydreams about getting rid of Marcus. it would be a great way to keep himself busy while on leave, making sure to do it fast and secretly, of course, just to protect his sweet little thing. poor guy wouldn’t even know what hit him.

the pressure change on his ear is the telltale sign of the aircraft lowering its altitude, landing gear out to hit the lane and brake the machine. he turns to the side, watching again your knitted eyebrows and how your nails dig into the seat. this time he doesn’t contain himself and his hand gently lingers over yours, the softness of it sending lightning strikes over his body and almost making him cum instantly.

your glinting eyes find his face with a grateful gaze, lips mouthing a sugary thank you when the plane finally stops. he helps you take your handbag out of the rack with ease, using the situation to flaunt his muscles. i can even pick you up, darling. would love to feel your pretty thighs around my waist. you wouldn’t have to walk a day in your life.

his eyes follow the sway of your hips through the airport, heart almost bursting when you wave goodbye and flash him a timid smile. you think that’s the last time you’ll see him, he thinks this is just the beginning. a name and university? he’s used to finding people with even less information. see you soon, sweet girl.

#kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz garrick #gaz cod #gaz x reader #stalker!gaz #gaz x you #gaz smut #kyle garrick smut #cod mw #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #cod x reader #nyx writes ☾#midnightarcheress

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vaaaaaiolet · 2 months

Text

Left to his own devices during an international flight, Leon reflects on the most recent failure in his life: screwing over his airport crush. Said crush might also happen to be seated a couple rows ahead.

f / m, fluff, romance, you know the drill, bitches. leon is stupid and clumsy and crushing on you like crazy!! roman holiday mentioned bc i love gregory peck

word count: 957 // read on ao3

a/n: for my beautiful beautiful mutuals @idyllcy + @kennedysbaby <3 make sure to buckle up when you fly!! and don't take your shoes off on planes that's gross dudes

On long international flights, you’ve got three options to pass the time:

stuff your face.

watch outdated blockbusters.

sleep like the dead.

Leon, however, picks option D) relive the most embarrassing moments of his life while trying not to throw himself out of the nearest emergency exit. He’s such an efficient decision maker that he’s whittled his selection down to the most recent of these moments – exactly three hours ago.

Three hours ago at the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, Leon was the biggest jackass to the prettiest girl he’s ever seen.

She’d been sitting pretty, smiling down at her phone like some sort of angel sent from the sky in the early morning rays, and Leon was half-awake, running late as always. Eyes shutting by themselves. Shitty airport coffee bombarding his taste buds. Five o’clock in the morning is the worst time to have Hunnigan yelling in his earpiece.

If Leon had decided to sit anywhere other than the closest spot, right behind that pretty girl, his brain wouldn’t have been torturing him for the past three hours. He groans at the memory, waving a hand dismissively at the flight attendant offering him an extra blanket.

Leon doesn’t deserve warm blankets right now. The Antarctic should freeze him over and karma should shut down his in-flight entertainment screen. He cranes his neck to find the back of the girl’s head for the the millionth time, and there she is, sandwiched between two burly strangers, beautiful head left pillowless because Leon stole that too along with her window seat.

How?

In Leon’s half-asleep daze, he’d taken a nice big stretch, reaching his arms skyward to smooth out last mission’s leftover muscle pulls. And in that same daze, he’d conveniently forgotten about the lukewarm cup of coffee he was still holding.

Newton is to apple as Kennedy is to coffee; he’d spilled every last drop down the back of the girl’s neck. Saturated her travel pillow right through. Her yelp had woken him up faster than any coffee in his life, and he’d whipped his head around to meet a pair of stunning eyes, wide open in shock that was entirely his fault.

And he didn’t even apologize!

No, what Leon did was stare at her like a blithering idiot.

Her boarding pass had happened to be tucked in her back pocket and coffee had spilled all over that too. It was made of some sort of eco-friendly paper, the kind that promises to disintegrate within seconds of contact with water to not choke the turtles or whatever, and that’s exactly what it did. Going, going, gone in front of his eyes. And to top it all off, Leon’s boarding group got called at that exact minute, and he’d left the poor girl to sort out her seat without so much as offering to help.

“Sir?” the flight attendant repeats.

Leon blinks, busy swimming in guilty reverie. “I said don’t need a blanket.”

“No sir, I’m actually coming here with a seat change request,” she says, louder this time. “Would you mind someone taking the empty spot next to you?”

Well, it’s not like he needs the aisle seat for his feet or something.

“Yeah, sure thing.”

And he closes his eyes to return to his pity party, hears shuffling in the dimly-lit cabin as the seat next to him dips, and you know what? It is kind of cold. He could use that extra blanket. Leon cracks open an eye and holy fucking shit the pretty girl is sitting right next to him.

“It’s you,” he stammers, sitting ramrod straight. “I am so incredibly sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to run off like that at all.”

She faces him. Recognizes him. “O-Oh, it’s okay, don’t worry about it. I still made the flight, right?”

He shakes his head. “You got stuck in late boarding. You got a bad seat because of me and- god, your pillow. I’ll buy you another one the moment we land, okay?”

But the pretty girl, you, you just laugh. “Really, it’s alright. It was a ratty old thing.”

“Then let me buy you a coffee,” Leon insists, searching for some kind of way to make up for his blunder, “it’ll be morning when we land and you couldn’t have gotten any sleep stuck between those guys in your old seat.”

Way to go. He’s just confessed to staring at you the whole flight like some kind of stalker.

“I’m more of a tea person, but you know what? I’ll take the offer.”

Tea. He likes tea. Leon breathes a sigh of relief as you settle in, buckling your belt and digging around for the in-flight entertainment remote. He hands it to you from under your seat, brushing his shoulder against your knee and suddenly feeling a lot less cold as heat floods his face.

You smile when he surfaces. “Found anything good to watch?”

“Mm, not much. Hope you like Roman Holiday,” Leon adds softly, “it’s the only movie with subtitles.”

“Can’t say I don’t. It’s one of my favorites.”

He’s going woozy. Is it the cabin pressure? Audrey Hepburn flashes across the screen in black and white, but he’s finding her beauty a lot less blinding than yours. You’re tilting your head at him, shit, is he staring again?

“Thank you, uh, gosh,” you chuckle, “I never caught your name.”

Phew.

“Leon,” he supplies with a grin. “And you are?”

You’re a liar, is what you are. A beautiful liar because he’s right – you haven’t gotten a wink of sleep since he ruined your pillow. Your head drops onto his shoulder not ten minutes into Roman Holiday, and Leon could swear Audrey winks at him before she drifts off to sleep too.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fanfiction #resident evil #vaaaaaiolet #ao3 fanfic

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xzaddyzanakinx · 6 months

Text

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Seven: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker × femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink (Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation[Be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin is perfect boyfriend material. He’s also insane, but that’s okay. He’s thinkin’ some thoughts [diary entries from Ani AND you] extremely not proofread. MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: July 14th

You’d better be so fucking glad that I’m not insane.

I offered you my weapon and you didn’t take it. You have zero self preservation skills, your fight or flight response is so low that it concerns me. You’re worse than a opossum, instead of playing dead you play pretend that it’s normal to have a home intruder with a knife in your bedroom.

You didn’t even attempt to get up and run, not that you could’ve. You wouldn’t have made it more than two steps without collapsing. You could hardly speak, slurring your words like a drunken fool.

You didn’t even call anyone after I left. Didn’t text anyone. Didn’t get out of bed until 1:00pm this morning. If I didn’t have the audio on full blast all night I would’ve busted back in and made sure you were still breathing.

Honestly I’m alittle jealous.

Stupid I know, to be jealous of myself. But you didn’t know it was me. Yet you still let me sit there, you let me talk to you, you let me scratch your head like a good little girl.

Did you really believe it was all a dream?

Do you remember it today?

Can you feel my hands on your skin? Can you taste my cum on your lips?

Did you know it was me?

Date

July 14th

You woke up groggy, way, way past the normal time your internal alarm clock jolts you awake. Disoriented wouldn’t even begin to describe how you felt right now. This was a feeling like nothing you’d ever experienced before.

Unlike last night when your mind was refusing to kick off the blanket of sleep while your body could scarcely react… now your mind was wide awake and running rapidly while your body was aching and not properly calibrated.

You’d been so utterly relaxed during your deep sleep that your muscles got the rest they’d been searching so desperately for your entire life. You felt loose, rested and smooth while also feeling as though you’d been stomped to a pulp by a stampede of angry cattle.

Your head felt swimmy, your lungs felt like they’d been working too hard. Your eyes still couldn’t fully focus either, so it was no surprise that you stumbled clumsily to the kitchen and spilled coffee grounds all over the counter.

You rested your forehead against your folded arms on the counter top, needed a moment to rest your eyes from the harsh lighting. The pounding in your head traveled from one side to the other, keeping a continuous presence behind your sensitive eyes. The moment of silence, well, it gave you time to think.

You had wanted so badly to believe last night was nothing but a weird ass dream, it wouldn’t have been the first time.

But your hopes were squashed when you woke up and saw your diary on the edge of your bed. Even the air felt disturbed, like your room itself was letting you know that it wasn’t all in your head.

He had said he wouldn’t hurt you and you believed him.

He didn’t hurt you.

But if not… why drug you? Was he planning on it and you’d interrupted his plans? Though being a kind, caring, crazy person he backed off instead of forcing you to endure whatever he decided for you while you were awake?

Or had you caught him after the deed had been done?

That ache. That horrible longing in your gut that just refused to go away… was gone. Not dulled, not in hibernation. You felt satisfied and sated.

He said he didn’t hurt you… maybe he just...

You shoved your thoughts into a corner and taped the box shut. That was absolutely sick, you cannot think that way. You can’t. What the hell is wrong with you? You shouldn’t be okay with that.

You should cry. You should scream and wail and cry and throw up.

But how could you be disgusted by a man that had taken away the yearning that had been so deeply rooted within you for so long? Maybe… maybe he didn’t even touch you like that.

Maybe whatever drug he’d given you had somehow flipped the reset switch.

“Sure.” You whispered to yourself, leaning against the countertop. “Sure, that’s all it is. Just that.”

“I have no reason to doubt him. If he wanted to hurt me he would’ve done it. I caught him, if he was truly a terrible person he probably would’ve killed me.” You reasoned with yourself.

“He just came to say hello.” You put your face in your hands, breathing deeply. “Yep. Yep. Yep. That’s all.”

You chose to ignore that fact that your panties were glued to your cunt that morning.

Conveniently over looked the obvious hickey on your left breast.

Pretended not to notice the taste of something salty in the corner of your mouth.

That’s all in your head. He didn’t do that, you didn’t feel sore. You would feel that wouldn’t you? You would’ve woken up right?

‘Right. I would’ve felt it. I would’ve woken up. So it was a dream. Yes.’ You nodded resolutely in agreement with your inner voices.

Some guy dressed as Ghostface was not in your bedroom.

You got out your diary to write about your night at the bar and how wonderful it was, and you fell asleep before you could put your pen to the paper.

Someone slipped something in your drink and it made you sleep very soundly. Someone who didn’t get the chance to take advantage because your two best friends walked you home.

Your subconscious knew that’s what happened and it made all that other stuff up. It’s time to reevaluate your bookshelf. No more dark romance. It’s turned your brain to mush.

Anakin. You should go ask Anakin to review the footage from the bar security cameras. Put your mind at ease that no one had even attempted to follow you home. Maybe you’ll see that no one even drugged you in the first place and you just have one hell of a hangover and an overactive imagination.

First things first though, scoop up those spilled coffee grounds and dump them into the filter. The water gets hot enough, it’ll be fine.

Absentmindedly grabbing your new hello kitty mug, you failed to notice the slip of paper inside until you almost poured creamer over it.

You quickly snatched it up and unfolded it.

‘Sleep well?’

——————————————————————————

“Anakin!” You banged on his front door and he answered relatively quickly.

He appeared in a pair of flannel checkered pajama pants and a short sleeved white shirt, socked feet and messy hair.

“I’m not picking my nose I swear, I’m changing my nose ring.” He grinned, one finger in his left nostril while he screwed on the ball to a new black steel ring, replacing the previous plain stainless steel one.

“M’sorry I didn’t mean to-“

“No worries baby, what’s up?” He asked, running a hand through his hair before shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Can you do me a favor please?” You asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“Of course, what’d you need princess?” He asked, his face full of sympathy. “Wanna come in? We can chat.”

He didn’t wait for you to answer, he simply stepped aside and held the door open, lifting that arm slightly so he could usher you underneath his arm and into his apartment.

“Need a drink or anything?” He asked, thumbing toward the fridge.

When you shook your head he gently grasped one of your elbows and brought you to the couch, he kneeled on one knee and held both your hands with his. He looked up at you like he was studying the most delicate piece of artwork on earth.

“What’s going on doll?” He whispered, tucking a hair behind your ear, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Your eyes flashed at his lips quickly, and widened slightly, but you shook your head.

‘If only you knew.’ You thought, your inner voice giving a mirthless laugh.

“N-no.” You sighed. “Is there anyway you can convince your boss to let me look through the security footage from the bar last night?”

“Yeah sure, I doubt he’d care.” Anakin shrugged. “Why? Did you lose something?”

“Um no.” You said, contemplating on telling him your story, no matter how stupid it might make you look.

“You can tell me anything sweetheart.” Anakin cooed.

“It’s just… I think maybe someone slipped something in my drink last night.”

“You think someone drugged you?” He repeated, his hands tightening around yours.

“Well I don’t know for sure!” You said quickly. “I just woke up feeling weird and dizzy… n’ well I don’t know it doesn’t matter.”

“I’ll make sure we get that footage okay?” He promised, pulling you into his chest and smoothing your hair down your back.

You didn’t speak, you just let him pet you for a moment. The thought of telling him what had actually happened scared you. It made your stomach flip, twist into knots and yank your guts so tightly that you thought you’d never be able to eat again.

He’d think you’re nuts. He’d think you’re a liar. He’d think you wrote that note yourself. He… what would he do? If he believed you? Would he call the cops? Get angry at you for not doing it yourself?

You were vaguely aware of Anakin speaking to you and once he realized you weren’t comprehending a single word, he stopped. He leaned back to look at your face where it rested against his chest.

“Babydoll?” He said worriedly, waving his hand in front of your face to get your attention. “What’s got you all tore up?” He asked in a whisper.

You shook your head, hoping to scramble your thoughts back into order.

“It’s nothing, I just…” You breathed deeply, realizing only now that you’d started to cry.

The safety you felt with Anakin had allowed you to feel these confused feelings in a closed and controlled environment. You chided yourself for thinking he’d react offensively, you may as well just tell him. At least part of it… right?

“Hey, princess.” He said, his voice tinged with a worried kind of uncertainty. “You’re kinda scaring me, I need you to talk to me baby.” He whispered softly.

“I think someone broke into my house last night.” You blurred out suddenly, your words surprising yourself. The moment they left your lips the words caused you to shudder, eyes watering, staring at Anakin like a poor hopeless little kitten on an ASPCA commercial.

“What do you mean someone broke into your house?” He asked sternly, his hands firm on your shoulders.

“I don’t know. Maybe I imagined it.” You said embarrassedly.

“I checked all over the apartment this morning and can’t seem to find out how they got in. I just remember someone being there.” You added, biting your lip as you picked at the skin on your fingers.

“Do you want me to go look?” He asked softly. “You can stay right here, I’ll go look if you want.”

“Really?” You sniffled. “Will you?”

“Of course.” He soothed, cupping your face with both hands and wiping the remnants of your tears away. “You stay put. I’ll be right back.”

Anakin grabbed a thick Sherpa blanket…

Sherpa blanket? He has a Sherpa blanket? Hot. A man with good taste in throw blankets is a man worth pursuing.

He covered you up and patted your head, his fingers stalling momentarily as he gave you a wide-eyed, quizzical look as though he might ask you something or maybe had an odd thought. But, you could see him internally shaking whatever it was that crossed his mind away.

“I’ll be back in a sec okay?” He said, walking to his front door and shutting it with a click behind him.

Anakin walked into your apartment and idly stood in the kitchen, thinking to himself and wondering just how much you remembered. Boogie purred and looped around at his feet so he scooped her up and held her like a baby while pacing the room.

“What should I do? Hmm?” He asked, scratching beneath her chin.

“You have great advice usually.” He muttered. “C’mon… I- fuck.” He groaned.

“I can’t just ask her can I?” He huffed. “No, I can’t.”

“I’ll just… offer to put up some cameras,” he chuckled to himself. “Easy. It’ll make her feel better huh?”

“Thanks… good kitty.” He said giving her a peck on the head before sitting her on the kitchen counter and walking back to his apartment.

He popped his head around the corner to see you still sitting exactly where he left you.

“Good news is: there isn’t anyone there now.” He said with a sympathetic smile. “I can’t find any evidence of a break-in…”

“I know!” You said, exasperatedly throwing your hands up.

“Hush.” He said sternly. “Just because I didn’t find anything, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen okay?”

He doesn’t believe you. He doesn’t believe that your space had been invaded, that your sanctuary had been tainted. But, he believes that you believe it was. And that’s enough of a reason for him to play along for your peace of mind. Within reason of course. He’s not confirming your fears, he’s leaving it open ended but putting up a gate to keep it in check. He’s protecting you from yourself and your own anxiety.

Too bad he’s wrong. Although it’s real sweet that he’s trying.

“Okay.” You blushed at his change in tone, like he was speaking to a child having a tantrum.

You didn’t fully understand why, but every time he did that, it made your stomach flip- in a good way. It was… strangely comforting? Maybe? Or maybe it was just hot, either way you weren’t complaining in the slightest.

“Do you want me to set up a security system for you? Some cameras or?” He offered, sitting next to you and opening his arms which you quickly leaned into.

“Cameras?” You echoed, why hadn’t you thought to put those in when you moved in? You’re a girl, living alone, in a less-safe area of town.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “Would that make you feel better?”

“I don’t know… maybe just those window and door alarms?” You suggested. “You know the ones that make that horrible screeching sound when they’re armed and someone tries to open the door?”

“Yes.” He chuckled. “I know exactly what you’re talking about.”

“I had one on the back garden gate at my moms house.” He said, smoothing out your hair.

“Really? Why?” You asked.

“Cause she thought I was sneaking out.” He chuckled.

“Were you?”

“Yes.” He laughed. “I just wanted to go smoke with my friend who lived in the same subdivision as us. Apparently she’d been hearing the gate open and shut.”

“She was never one for confrontation, so I guess scaring the shit out of me was her way of telling me to stop sneaking out to smoke pot.” He smirked. “I screamed, like a real actual scream. Sounded like a little girl.”

“Oh poor you.” You laughed, looking up at him as you giggled. “My parents never found out I snuck out.” You said teasingly.

“Oh really? What were your methods?” He snorted.

“Well, we didn’t have a fence first of all.” You said. “Second, I was on the ground floor and my bedroom window didn’t have a screen in it.”

“Mmm.” He nodded, his chest rising and falling methodically. “Smart.”

“Yep.” You smiled. “So how bad did you get in trouble?”

“Trouble? None.” He chuckled, leaning back to look at you. “I was momma’s pride and joy, I could do no wrong. She just gave me a warning, unspoken. But still very, very loud.”

“Oh so what you’re saying is she let you get away with it huh?” You laughed.

“Pretty much.” He smiled, pausing for a moment. “So is that what you want then?”

“Yeah… I think I’d rather have those. Maybe it’ll scare ‘em off and make ‘em scream like a little bitch, like you.” You teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Oh baby, you wound me.” He sighed. “Guess you’ll have to find someone else to install them for you, huh?”

“What?” You sat up and furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

“What?” He said mockingly. “You really want a little bitch installing your security system? My little girly hands just won’t get the job done.” He teased.

Little girly hands? Little girly hands?

Those hands were anything but little, everything masculine. Strong and firm. Long fingers that would lace perfectly in yours, those same fingers would feel at home between your…

“Fine, I take it back.” You said quickly, pulling yourself from your dirty thoughts. You couldn’t seriously be drooling over those veined hands while discussing your potential house invasion.

“Good girl.” He grinned. “I’ll order them for you okay?” He said, brushing his knuckle against your cheek.

“Thank you.” You sighed in relief, ignoring the shiver his touch sent through you.

“No problem princess.” He said softly.

Diary Entry: July 14th

God I feel so… conflicted.

I never feel conflicted when it comes to you. It’s so strange, this feeing. It’s like I’m being pulled in two directions.

I love you. So much baby.

I love the way you felt in my arms today. I loved the way you let me hold you, comfort you. We have such a good connection. Such a normal, real, blossoming relationship.

But I’ve went and made things complicated haven’t I?

I should’ve waited. I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve sucked it up and just watched through the cameras and kept my hands to myself. I have patience, I should’ve used it.

It’s just… you’re so tempting.

You love it. Whether you know it or not, I know it. I see it, hear it, taste it. You need me. Conscious and consenting or unconscious and oblivious. Either way, you need me.

So it’s really not my fault. I might’ve thrown the snowball that’s triggered the avalanche, but you’re not running from it. You’re letting it drag you under and doing it with a blush and blissful smile.

Ghostface has thrown an unexpected but possibly very interesting wrench in my plans. You reacted so strangely. I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s eating me alive inside, the way you just… accepted it. It’s amazing.

Truly, it’s astonishing. This side of yourself that you’ve kept locked away and hidden from view, maybe even hidden from yourself until now. Do you have a Pit too? Did that surprising reaction crawl out of the depths of your enigmatic mind?

It’s a mystery to me. One I will never crack, it drives me nuts. Knowing that there’s a truly unsolvable puzzle in front of me, I can pick and pick and pick, but I’ll never find all the pieces. You’re too smart, too clever, too perfect. Why would your mind maze be any different?

What have you got hidden in there? In that one place I can’t break into? The one part of yourself you can hide from me?

I’ve gotten a taste, a small one. Lightly salted, hardly seasoned thoughts sprawled on the pages of your diary. No one, not even me, writes everything down. There are things that will stay locked away in my mind, never to be spoken or written. I’m sure you have those things too. Probably not anywhere near as… depraved as mine. But strange and unusual enough that you’d never willingly allow anyone to learn.

As much as I hate that I can’t read your mind, I love it too. That hidden side of yourself that is only for you. It’s something I’m not sure that you would ever show me, not even when you’ve finally fallen in love with me. Not even when we’re too old to care about anything but our happiness… I don’t think you’d share it then either.

That’s a shame. It really is.

But you might share that side of yourself with Ghostface.

I know you.

I know you well enough to realize that the fawn who timidly, but let their curiosity guide them to speak with Ghostface is not the same doe that blinks up at Anakin with adoration.

You. Are. So. Much. Like. Me.

Anakin looks at you with a sense of love, pure and unfiltered. He wants the best for you because he cares so deeply. He wants to keep you safe and warm and forever happy. Because that’s his duty as a loving and caring partner. Your protector and provider.

Ghostface looks at you with love yes, but also obsession and deeply rooted perversion. An infatuation so strong that he’d shed gallons of blood just to get to you. He wants the best for you, in his own way. He wants to keep you safe while giving you the danger he knows that you crave. He wants to keep you warm by feeding the flame of your own twisted little fantasies. The ones so dark you won’t even write them in your diary. He wants to keep you forever happy too, just not in the traditional sense.

And if he gets to have his own fun along the way… well, we both know I’m a fan of killing two birds with one stone. Of course Ghostface would have some mutually beneficial, selfishly planned ideas too, right? He’s unafraid to be what Anakin tries to keep hidden.

Maybe we can have both? Separately… at least for a little while.

You can have us both.

We can have the fawn and doe.

That could be fun. I think I’d like that. You’re just perfect, you’re so perfect. I never would’ve imagined I would be lucky enough to find someone who was as fucked in the head as me. The theory is of course untested, but I have a feeling that I’m right. I think you’ll love Ghostface just as much as you love Anakin.

Because I love the fawn just as much as I love the doe.

The doe that blinks up at me like it’s been caught in the high beams of a truck. The doe that is clever enough to carry on a good banter with me. Sweet and kind and gentle. That’s the recipe for the perfect little deer, they’re such a gentle animal. Soft.

Just like you. They bed down in the softest grass, nest themselves up in a way that keeps them hidden and safe. You do the same, all those stuffed animals and the ridiculously thick and fluffy comforter you sleep under.

They’re smart. They can be sneaky and quiet if they need to be. They have hard and dangerous hooves if they truly need to use them. So do you, but you’ve proven that just like a doe, you’d rather return to the safety of your nest instead of bucking up to kick your problems square in the chest.

Even though they’re smart enough to know they’re prey, they’re too sweet, too pure to believe anyone could have bad intentions. That’s why the bucks have antlers. Sharp and precise, ready to clash into whatever threatens his doe, head first.

Sound familiar?

Then there’s the fawn. The you I’ve only just begun to know. Tiny, meek, fragile. A bleat so small and unsure that it’s comical, like the way you spoke to Ghostface.

They cower, hide. Walk on unsteady legs that cause them to flounder when they’re nervous. They get overconfident; leaping and running on those lanky limbs and regretting it when they fall to their knees, legs folded beneath them and calling out for their protector.

They have those innocent doe eyes all the time, not just when caught off guard. Like the you that Ghostface met. So curious and wrongfully trusting. They don’t realize danger until it’s too late, they’re just exploring the world around them and suddenly they’re gone.

That’s why it’s important that you stay within arms reach of me. That’s why I watch you so closely. That’s why you need me.

They’re so easily taken advantage of; the purity, the innocence, it’s a recipe for disaster if it’s left to develop on its own. But when it’s nurtured? Well cared for? Allowed to roam within reason? In the safety of the net it’s protector has spread out for them?

Well, they’ll blossom. Just like you. You’re so eager to learn and soak up all the knowledge you’ve been so curious about, but too afraid to seek out on your own.

Ghostface can help with that. He’ll keep you safe while giving you the room to explore. He’ll allow you to think that you’re independently experiencing a new world, even though he’s the one who’s crafting it for you.

What a surprise it’ll be when we tell you we’re the same guy. It’ll be your dream come true huh? Sweet and tender boyfriend material, bring home to momma, respectful and gentle Anakin. With a side of… well controlled obsession motivated lunacy.

See? I’m self aware. Crazy people don’t know they’re crazy. I’m not a psycho, I’m. Not. That. Kind. Of. Guy.

But Ghostface is.

I love you. You love me. We can just merge the four of us together. Fours a crowd but twos a party or some shit like that.

Date

July 19th

Anakin waltzed into your apartment and locked the door behind him. In his break and enter self imposed uniform. No mask though, he just had it tucked under his arm just incase. He liked to be prepared, especially after you’d surprised him by waking up when he’d so carefully planned for you to do the opposite.

He scooped up Boogie for company, went to your bedroom and locked the door behind him. He kicked off his shoes and climbed into your bed, staying standing to adjust the camera above your bed. He needed to uncover that lens. No reason to suffer with just the audio anymore, not when he had a perfectly good excuse that you were semi aware of now.

With task one complete he propped up his phone against one of your many stuffies to have the background noise of one of the shows he’s finally getting around to watching: Narcos. He can understand the hype around it when it was first released now and kind of wishes he’d sucked it up and jumped on the bandwagon to watch it with everyone else in the world back then.

With his work area set up he reached under your mattress with one long arm and pulled out your diary. He’d been impatiently waiting for you to formulate some questions and he’d hear you speaking to yourself about it the night before.

So he cracked open the little pink book and pulled out the red ink pen he’d brought along.

It just wouldn’t be as fun to use one of your cutesy little gel pens or just a plain old black one. But it would be fun to add just a dash more intimidation into the scenario.

It’s a proven fact that red is an uneasy color for humans. It’s one of those things that never fully went away when people developed past the primitive brain. Most people don’t even realize it, but studies show that red ink really does affect the brain. It’s very subtle but it’s still there. The mind is a strange place.

Red bad, blood red, scary.

That’s why all good horror movies have the killers write in red ink… or just straight up blood. It’s unsettling.

Anakin leaned back and got comfortable, flipping through the pages to read the few entries that he hadn’t yet, before moving on to the main course, a page titled: Answer Me

——————————————————————————

Your Diary Entry: Answer Me

Do I know you? If I don’t then who are you?

We’ve met.

Nice try, you’re not getting that out of me yet. Bold of you to ask though, I like that.

Just call me Ghost.

I’m sure that I know you, why else would you hide your voice?

Clever girl.

What do you look like?

You saw me. I didn’t realize you needed glasses.

Do appearances mean that much to you? Well, here’s what I look like under the mask:

Funny, huh?

Why me?

I don’t have enough room in this book to answer this question sweetheart.

So I’ll shorten it: you’re perfect, precious… and I love you because of it.

How did we meet?

You’re really confident that you’ve met me. It would’ve been embarrassing if you were wrong.

I saw you, you saw me. That’s how most people meet isn’t it?

Will you come back?

I’d have to be dead to be kept from you, even then you’d never be without me.

The afterlife is just a step behind the living.

It’d be fun to try out that poltergeist stuff anyway, don’t you think?

How did you get in? I checked and had a friend check… no sign of forced entry.

I know. I saw you both.

Not too long ago, you left your window unlocked. My main goal is to keep you safe and happy, you can’t be safe with an open window easily accessible by a fire escape. So I climbed in and closed it for you.

Have you looked for your spare key lately? I know where it is. It’s in my pocket. On my keychain.

How long have you been watching me?

I like the way you asked this. Not ‘how long have you been doing this’, not ‘how many times have you broken in’.

I’ve been watching you for quite a while now. Long enough that you should’ve definitely noticed by now. Just another reason you need me to protect you. You’ve been completely oblivious.

Go to the next page for the rest of this. I have more to say; you need a lecture.

Hello again, let’s continue shall we?

You’re utterly hopeless in the way of self awareness and keeping watch of your surroundings.

I walk you to and from work nearly everyday.

I sat on your fire escape every night for weeks, to watch you fall asleep on the couch, watching your little shows.

I’ve been to your sisters house, I’ve been to the library to see who is in your book club, I’ve even been to the gym with you.

You never noticed. That’s… forgivable. I’ve been very good at keeping myself hidden, ie. all the times I laid on top of the roof next door to watch you sleep through your bedroom window. But that was before I started visiting your home.

(Have you noticed that those curtains stay closed now? I always shut them for you because you’re forgetful.)

But you know what isn’t forgivable? Everything I’ve done inside your home that you’ve never noticed.

Sweetheart, I love you. I really do. But god you’d probably die without someone around to hold your hand. Haven’t you noticed that certain things seem to be growing into less of a chore and more of a manageable task?

I know that you have, but you thought it was all you, all on your own.

I’ve been making sure your favorite mugs are washed. I’ve been vacuuming because you never do it enough. I’ve been taking out the bathroom trash on the off occasion because I know you hate doing it.

I replace things for you. This one really gives me a giggle.

You’ve been using the same bottle of Persil laundry detergent for almost two months. Ever wondered why it stays half full? No?

Your favorite cereal never runs out either.

You’re adorable, so clueless.

It’s all helpful things sweetheart. No worries, I’m not just some weirdo creep. I do actually care about you and your well-being too. I love you.

You haven’t missed a single birth-control pill since I’ve been setting it out for you.

You’ve been sleeping so much better, in your own bed where you should be, because of that yummy SleepyTime tea. It’s nice to wake up feeling rested isn’t it?

I did my research, remember when you felt real down a while back? That’s when I started setting out your medicine and giving you that tea. I read that it was probably a hormone imbalance because you’re too forgetful to take your pill consistently.

I like to help, I want to help. It makes life easier for you and that’s what’s most important. That’s what a man should do, take care of the one he loves, keep her happy, safe and loved. I’m dedicated to you. I want you to know that.

Anyway, I’m getting sidetracked and you have more questions to be answered my curious girl.

If you didn’t plan on hurting me, why did you drug me, why did you bring a knife?

Valid question.

Am I being watched ALL the time?

No, I’m not a psycho. You deserve privacy, I’ve never peeked in on you in the bathroom in any capacity. I don’t always watch you in your bedroom. But I do listen. I like to hear you snore, it’s like ASMR.

I’ve never accidentally seen you naked if that what you’re asking. It’s always on purpose.

Why haven’t you made yourself known? Why no weird calls or notes or anything? Isn’t that a thing stalkers do?

No. It’s not. At least not for me.

I don’t want to freak you out. Leaving weird calls and notes would scare you. That’s the last thing I want.

I’ll start, let you get the full experience lol.

(Not creepy shit though I promise.)

What do you get out of watching me sleep? Have you touched me?

You’re beautiful, peaceful, angelic. It’s just nice to be in your presence. It’s calming in a way. Like how grandmas knit to wind down in the afternoon. Kinda like that I guess.

Maybe.

Are there cameras here?

Yes. But not everywhere, like I said, you deserve privacy.

They’re here for security reasons, but also because it sucks to sit in the rain on a fire escape. My ass would get frozen to the metal grate when it was cold.

I don’t use them for what you think though.

Will you ever tell me who you are?

Would you be able to cope with knowing my identity? I mean, there’s a reason I wear the gloves and mask, change my voice. Like I said, you know me in the real world. I won’t ever show you my face if it means losing you there.

I’d stop coming here like this though. If you wanted. But I don’t think you do. Do you?

You’ve obviously read my diary. Is that why you chose Ghostface?

What do you think? :)

There. Questions answered.

Don’t expect me in person for a bit, you should take some time to process. I know it’s a lot.

I’ll still be there for you though, I wouldn’t leave you completely. Never.

I have a feeling you won’t tell anyone. But I do of course have to ask: please, don’t tell anyone okay? It’d make me sad :(

Not even Lukey or Anakin okay?

I’ll warn you before I make an appearance next time.

Date

July 28th

The bell above the door at the Bluebird chimed and your head perk up immediately. There he was, right on time.

Anakin had been much, much closer to you since your meeting with Ghost. You still hadn’t told him. Probably never would.

Who would believe something so insane anyway? Anakin had handled the whole ‘home intruder and I’ve been drugged’ situation extremely well. He was very supportive, your certain that if you did ever share the information on Ghost with him, he would do his best to validate you, but he’d definitely make you go to therapy.

“My princess.” He grinned, walking up to the counter and sitting on a barstool, both hands palm up on the countertop for you to place yours in.

“Hey Ani.” You smiled softly, you loved this.

You loved what this had bloomed into. You never thought you’d fall for a traditional guy, but here you are, with Anakin.

“Whatcha got left? Almost done?” He queried, rubbing the backs of your hands with his thumbs while he gazed at you with those dreamy blue eyes.

“I’ll be ready to leave as soon as Sara clocks in.” You peered back into the kitchen, hoping to see her walk in the back door any moment.

“Good, we’ve got places to be.” Anakin teased.

“Do I have to go in my work clothes?” You whined. “I smell like french fries!”

“Mmm my favorite perfume of yours.” He snickered. “No, you don’t baby. I brought you a change of clothes. Dress or pants?”

“Oh? You brought options?” You asked in surprise.

“Of course I brought options. I’m not a mind reader.” He smirked.

“No, but you might as well be.” You laughed.

“Mmhmm.” He looked down at your hands and laced his fingers with yours. “Pants?”

“Yes please.” You nodded with a laugh. “See? Mind reader.”

“I wish.” He rolled his eyes. “Just know my girl well that’s all.” He smiled, one hand leaving yours to cup your cheek.

“Sara’s here.” He nodded to the back door as it was opening.

“Oh good!” You said, patting his hand on your cheek and spinning around to clock out.

Once Anakin had led you out to his car he opened the back passenger door and handed you one of your small backpacks with clothes in it.

“Change inside?” He asked, nodding toward the restaurant.

“Ew no.” You scoffed. “I’ll just change in the backseat.” You shrugged.

“Sure thing baby.” He laughed, gesturing for you to get in.

He stood outside with his back resting against the side of the car, ever respectful of you and your boundaries. Soon enough you knocked on the window and he moved out of the way to open the door for you and help you into the front of the car.

“Lookin’ good princess.” He let out a low whistle that had you blushing.

“Thanks.” You squeaked, despite being so comfortable with him, you couldn’t help but be bashful sometimes.

He was never not confident in the things he said to you. If he wanted to tell you something, he did. With his full chest.

Tonight was your first real, official date. Anakin had planned it all for you, you weren’t privy to his choices but you assumed it would be casual considering the clothes he’d offered you. He’d said ‘men should plan the dates and their girls should just enjoy them’.

Fuck feminism. Anakin made you forget you had the right to vote, he made you forget what it was like to do things on your own, he made you forget the horrors of being a girl left alone.

With him around you never had to lift a finger.

So it was no surprise that when you arrived at the restaurant he walked around, opened your door and offered you his arm. Not unexpected that he would order your food for you, somehow he always knew what you wanted, you didn’t even bother picking up the menu anymore.

Not a shock at all that when he got you home you didn’t have to do anything but lay back and be loved.

Part Eight

Just realized that probably not everyone knows what a butterfly knife is, so here’s a gif (I’ll put one in the previous post too) like you’re telling me this isn’t Anakin’s weapon of choice??? Show off.

Tag-List:

@wickedtactics @tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @ausskywalker @angelsadmired @slut4starwarssmut t @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @anakinsbaee @doblasftcisco o @sweetcheesecakesblog @luvskywxlker @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @lunalitva @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @rorysbrainrot @hopesworlld @lonaah @guiltycherries @syralix

THE TAGS LIST IS FULL! But if you want to be tagged I will comment ur username for you. Love you all so many.

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joelmillerisapunk · 7 months

Text

Italy ~ let go and let daddy

soft daddy!Joel x f!reader

Masterlist ♥︎ Soft Daddy Masterlist

Wordcount: 4,915

Summary: As your adventure begins, it becomes clear that Joel is determined to make this the best summer of your life.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, f oral receiving, lots of soft daddy stuff - like so much, use of 'baby girl, good girl, my girl, baby, daddy', reader has breasts and wears a dress, just Joel doting on you so so hard. The endinnnggggg 👀🤭

Notes: Hi friendinos! Thank you for waiting so patienly for this! I wish I could write them here forever so I could have them see more, but Joel has a short timeline to show reader the world, shining, shimmering, splendid.

Joel's song for this entire AU: To Be With You - Mr. Big

As you start your summer adventure headed to Italy, you can feel the excitement building up inside of you. You never expected that you'd be traveling the world let alone with an older man like Joel, a man you've only been seeing on and off for a short while, but as you think back to your time with him, you know that he's going to take care of you, and you can't wait to see what kind of adventures he has planned.

Joel's plane tickets are first class, and as you board the plane, you can't believe how luxurious everything is. You're immediately struck by the opulence of the interior. The plane is decorated in rich, warm tones, with plush leather seats and polished wood accents.

You notice the attentive service. The flight attendants welcome you aboard with warm smiles and promptly offer you a glass of champagne. You feel like you're dreaming. The most you've ever been offered on a normal flight is a packaged biscuit and half a can of cola.

As you settle into your seat, which feels like an entire room, you can't help but feel pampered. The seat itself is incredibly comfortable, with ample legroom and a built-in massage function that you take advantage of immediately. The entertainment system is state-of-the-art, with a wide selection of movies, TV shows, and music to choose from.

And just when you get settled, you're presented with a menu featuring dishes prepared by a Michelin-starred chef, complete with wine pairings selected by an expert sommelier. You opt for the seared scallops with cauliflower puree to start, followed by a tender filet mignon with truffle mashed potatoes.

Obviously the food is impeccably presented, and each bite is a symphony of flavors. You feel like you could get used to this. As the flight attendants clear away the food Joel suggests watching a movie together and after a brief disagreement about which one to choose, him wanting action, you wanting something a little less intense, he finally relents and decides on watching "The Notebook," a movie that he knows you love. However, he takes forever trying to line up the movie on his device so that it plays at the exact same time as yours.

"Come on, Joel. Just press play already," you say, giggling.

"Okay, okay. But I want to make sure we're synced up perfectly," he responds, trying to fix the timing one last time. “Okay press play on yours in -” he pauses to look over at your screen and then back at his, “in 5 seconds.”

“Yes sir.” You wink at him.

Finally, he presses play, and as the movie progresses, you find yourself getting lost in the story you laugh, you cry, and you even find yourself holding Joel's hand during the more emotional scenes. Joel is surprisingly engaged in the movie, laughing at all the right moments and making thoughtful comments about the characters and their motivations.

You can't help but feel a warm glow spreading through your chest as you listen to him. You've never felt this close to anyone before - not like this, at least. You find yourself getting lost in Joel's gaze, the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way you can almost hear a southern twang when he laughs too hard.

He suddenly glances over, looking at you, his eyes are filled with warmth and tenderness. You feel a flutter in your chest, and you can't help but smile.

"What?" he asks, grinning.

"Nothing. I just... I'm happy,"

"Me too, darlin'. Me too," he says. "I'm glad you're here with me.”

"Me too," you whisper, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you.

Throughout the rest of the flight, you're constantly amazed by the level of service. The flight attendants anticipate your every need, making sure your glass is always full and your needs are met. Even the bathroom is luxurious, with plush towels and premium skincare products.

As you prepare to land, it's clear that Joel has pulled out all the stops to make this trip unforgettable.

When you arrive, Joel has arranged for a private car to take you to your destination and as you ride through the winding streets of Italy, you can't help but feel like you're in some kind of dream.

When you step out of the car, you're immediately struck by the beauty of the where youre staying. The architecture is a stunning blend of modern and traditional Italian styles, with intricate details and ornate accents that reflect the country's rich history. The grounds are immaculately maintained, with lush gardens, sprawling lawns, and a picturesque courtyard. As you enter the lobby, you're greeted by a warm, inviting atmosphere.

The hotel staff is impeccably attired, with friendly smiles and welcoming words. They escort you to the check-in desk, where you're presented with a chilled glass of prosecco and a warm, freshly baked cookie. The check-in process is seamless, and as Joel finishes with the receptionist, she provides you both with a detailed itinerary of the hotel's amenities and services.

After settling into your private villa, you can't help but marvel at the incredible space as you start to walk around. You've never seen a place so big. The living room is spacious and inviting, with plush sofas and armchairs arranged around a crackling fireplace. The dining area features a table that can seat at least ten, with crystal china and silverware already laid out for your convenience. The bedroom is a true sanctuary, with a comfortable king-sized bed adorned with plush linens and pillows. A flat-screen TV hangs across from it on the wall. The ensuite bathroom has a deep soaking tub, a separate shower, and a dual vanity area and is stocked with luxurious bath products, including high-quality soaps and scented candles. And just as you think you've seen it all, you discover a fully equipped kitchen, a home office, and a private patio with an outdoor grill and dining area.

The pièce de résistance, however, is the private pool off the bedroom, which features a stunning infinity edge that seems to blend seamlessly into the ocean beyond.

After you spend some more time exploring the Villa, Joel interrupts you, leading you out to a separate balcony that overlooks the ocean and picturesque view. He stands behind you, his hands wrapping around your waist.

You both stand there enjoying the moment before you say something, “what a beautiful view, huh?”

But Joel's not paying attention to the view. He's studying you, how you look so surprised and happy. He never takes his eyes off you when he replies, “sure is darlin’, nothing more beautiful.” He pauses for a moment longer. “Now come with me." He grabs your hand and leads you to the massively oversized bed and helps you sit down on the edge. He has a mischievous glint in his eye, and you can tell that he's excited.

“Alright, close your eyes.”

You do as he says.

He quickly starts moving a small table in front of you and positioning boxes and bags onto it.

You hear the rustling of tissue paper and your curiosity peaks.

“Okay - open.”

Your jaw drops in amazement. In front of you are an array of beautifully wrapped boxes, each one perfectly tied with a satin ribbon. In addition, there are bags from some of the most exclusive designer stores in the world, Gucci, Prada, and Versace. Joel smiles at your reaction.

“Joel, this is too much, I -”

Joel interrupts you before you can finish your sentence. "No, no, darlin'. It's not. I want you to have the best of everything. You deserve it. Just open ‘em, please." He says, almost desperate.

You look up at him a little unsure, before slowly getting off the bed like you're trying to be quiet.

“Here,” Joel intercepts with a box, he can still see your clear reservations about all of this.

You're overwhelmed by the sheer luxury of the items inside. There are designer dresses, shoes, handbags, and accessories, each one more beautiful than the last. You try on a few pieces, and they fit you perfectly, as if they were made just for you. But you can't help feeling a mix of emotions. On one hand, you're overwhelmed by the generosity and thoughtfulness of Joel's gifts. You've never had anything this extravagant before, and you can't believe that someone would go to such lengths to make you feel special.

On the other hand, you can't shake the feeling that you don't deserve any of this. You've always been a simple girl, content with the basics, and never really needing much more. You've never been one to indulge in luxury, and the thought of wearing designer clothes and accessories makes you a little uneasy, like a fish out of water. But as you look up at Joel, you can see the joy and excitement in his eyes. He's clearly thrilled to be able to share this with you. You can't bring yourself to disappoint him. So you push your reservations aside and continue to try on the beautiful items, smiling and thanking him with each new gift.

"Joel, these are all so beautiful. I don't know what to say."

"Say you'll wear them for me,"his eyes are sparkling with excitement. "I want to see you in all of these beautiful things. You deserve to feel as special and loved as you are, darlin'."

You can't help but be touched by Joel's words. You've never felt this seen or appreciated by anyone before. You take a deep breath and push your reservations aside once again. "Okay, I'll wear them for you," you say, smiling up at Joel. "I can't believe you did all of this for me."

“I can’t believe how damn good you look, baby.”

Joel's face lights up with each outfit change. He wants to help you try them on, but you force him to stay while you run in and out of the bathroom, piecing each option together.

As you try on the last item, a stunning designer gown that fits you like your fairy godmother had magically placed it on you, you stop to look at yourself in such disbelief that this is even happening. When you step out, Joel takes your hand and spins you around, looking you up and down.

"Better call NASA because you're out of this world, darlin." Joel's face is filled with admiration as he takes in your appearance. "Wow, just wow, takin’ my breath away. Can't wait to show you off."

You feel your body get warm with pleasure at his words. You've never felt this beautiful before. The dress really is stunning, and it makes you feel like a million bucks.

After trying on all of the beautiful clothing and accessories, you and Joel decide to head out for a romantic dinner at a local Italian restaurant. The food is delicious, and the atmosphere is warm and intimate. You can't help but feel grateful for this amazing experience and for the man sitting across from you. As the night wears on, you can see the exhaustion setting in on Joel's face. He's been going nonstop since you arrived, making sure every detail of your trip is perfect.

"Joel, why don't we head back to the hotel? You look exhausted," you suggest.

"I am a bit tired, darlin'. But I don't want the night to end just yet. How ‘bout we head back and I'll run you a bath?"

You can't help but feel a surge of love for this man. He's always taking care of you, always making sure you're happy and comfortable. "Only if you join me," you say, smiling at him.

“Wouldn't have it any other way.”

As you make your way back to the hotel, you can feel the tiredness setting in on your own body as well. The day has been a whirlwind of excitement and new experiences, and you're looking forward to a relaxing bath.

When you arrive back at the villa, Joel guides you to the bed. You sit on the edge, feeling the comforting pull of the bed beneath you. You're about to reach for your shoes, but Joel grabs your wrist and kneels down in front of you. “Let daddy take care of you.”

Joel starts to undress you slowly, taking his time to savor every moment. As he removes your shoes, he kisses your feet gently, causing you to giggle and squirm with delight. He then moves up to your legs, gently rolling down your stockings and kissing your thighs as he goes.

“You deserve to be taken care of, baby girl. You've had a long day, wanna make sure you're comfortable."

"Thank you, Daddy," you say, smiling down at him.

Joel's face lights up at your words. He stands up and takes your hand to help you to your feet, he turns you so your back is facing him and he slowly unzips the your dress, his fingers brushing against your skin as he goes. The fabric slides off your shoulders, revealing your bare skin underneath. Joel can't help but let out a low whistle as he takes in your bare shoulders and the curve of your back.

"You're so beautiful, darlin',"

He helps you step out of the dress, carefully folding it and setting it aside. He then turns his attention back to you, slowly sliding your bra straps down your arms, and unclasping it in the back. Then he works your panties off. You feel a shiver of pleasure run down your spine as he undresses you. It's like he's worshipping your body.

Once you're completely naked, Joel helps you onto the bed, covering you with a soft blanket and tucking you in. He leans down to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin. "Be right back, darlin'. I'm gonna run you a bath and get everything ready," he murmurs.

You nod, feeling a sense of warmth and safety spreading through your chest. You snuggle deeper into the blankets, your mind drifting as you wait for Joel to return.

Joel returns carrying two flutes of champagne. He sets them down on the bedside table and then helps you up from the bed. He grabs the drinks, and you make your way to the bathroom. The tub is filled with steaming hot water and scented bubbles. Candles flicker on the edges, casting a warm, inviting glow.

Joel holds your hand as you step into the tub, making sure you don't slip. Once you're settled in, he hands you a champagne flute. "For you, my love," he says, his eyes sparkling with affection.

The name catches you off guard. He's never called you something so - relationshipy. But you try not to think too much about that and take a sip of the champagne, feeling the bubbles dance on your tongue. It's the perfect complement to the warm, soothing water.

Joel joins you in the bathtub. He sits down behind you, his legs on either side of your body. He takes the washcloth and begins to gently wash your body, starting at your shoulders. His touch is tender and loving, and you can feel your body relax under his ministrations.

As he washes you, he praises you, telling you how beautiful and sexy you are. He tells you how much he loves your body and how much he loves being with you. His words are like a balm to your soul. He moves up to your hair, massaging your scalp with his fingers. It feels so good that you can't help but let out a soft moan. Joel smiles. "That's it, darlin'. Let go and let daddy take care of you.” As he moves down and washes your neck, he leans in to press a soft kiss to your skin, causing you to shiver with pleasure.

"You like that, baby girl?" he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear.

"Yes, daddy, feels so good," you whisper.

Joel smiles, pleased with your response. He continues to wash you, moving down to your shoulders and arms. Massaging your muscles with the washcloth, helping to ease any tension or knots. His hands move down to your chest. He washes your breasts gently, taking care to avoid your nipples. You can feel your body responding to his touch, your breasts feeling sensitive.

"Daddy.." you moan, your voice filled with longing.

"I know, baby," Joel replies, his voice low and husky. "But, I want to take care of you first. You deserve to be pampered."

He moves down to your stomach and hips. He's meticulous and thorough, making sure to cover every inch of you. As he reaches your thighs, he pauses for a moment, his fingers lingering on your skin.

"Can I wash you here, darlin'?".

“Yes please.” You're so turned on that you can feel yourself trembling with anticipation. Joel smiles, pleased with your response. He washes you gently, his fingers exploring your folds with care.

His fingers keep rubbing over your clit again and again, and you can feel yourself getting closer to the edge. "Daddy, I'm gonna... I'm gonna..." you moan, unable to finish your sentence.

"Shhh s'okay," Joel replies, his voice soothing, as he kisses the top of your head. "I've got you baby."

With those words, you let yourself go, your body shuddering with pleasure. Joel holds you close, his free arm wrapped around you as he whispers into your ear as you come down from your high, “there's my good girl, always so good for me.”

As you come down from your orgasm, you can't help but feel a little embarrassed at how loudly you moaned. But Joel's gentle touch and soothing words help to put you at ease.

"You're so beautiful when you come, princess," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

—

As the water starts to cool, Joel helps you out of the tub and wraps you in a soft, fluffy towel and leads you to the bed, helping you to lie down on your back.

All you can do is let out a contented sigh as you relax into the bed.

"Does daddy need to take care of his baby?” he asks.

You nod, unable to speak. You're stuck in some kind of love haze, and all you feel is calm and euphoric.

"S'okay baby, you don't have to think about anything, just relax, let daddy do all the work.” He hums as he starts to massage your shoulders, working out any knots or tension that you might have. His strong hands move down your arms. You can feel your muscles melting beneath his fingers. As his hands move down to your chest, he pauses for a moment, "Can daddy play with your tits, baby?"

“Mhmm..” You lightly moan

He starts to massage your breasts, his fingers teasing your nipples until they're hard and sensitive. You can feel yourself getting wetter with every touch.

As his hands move down to your hips and then your thighs, he finds your sensitive nub and starts to rub slow circles over the bundle of nerves. Your breathing becomes frantic, “Daddy need you inside me, I- fuck -”

"I know, I know, my princess, but first you gonna come all over daddy's fingers, arentcha? Dont worry m’gonna take real good care of this beautiful pussy."

Joel's fingers continue to work their magic, building you up to the brink of ecstasy once again. You can feel yourself getting close, your hips bucking against his hand as you chase your release. "That's it, baby," Joel murmurs, his voice a low growl in your ear. "Let daddy make you feel good."

With a final thrust of his fingers, you come apart, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave. Joel holds you close, murmuring words of love and praise as you ride out the waves of pleasure. “Oh, I know, I know, I gotcha baby girl, you're okay daddy's here.”

When you finally come down from your high, Joel begins to kiss his way down your body, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He pauses at your hips, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin as he looks up at you.

"You're so damn perfect, darlin'," he says, his voice filled with awe. "Daddy’s gonna have a lil snack now, okay?"

You nod your consent, your breath hitching in your throat as Joel's mouth descends on your clit. He licks and sucks, his tongue exploring every inch of you as you writhe beneath him. It's overwhelming, the sensation of his mouth on you, his fingers inside you, and you can feel yourself building up to another orgasm already.

"Daddy, I'm gonna come again," you gasp, your fingers threading through Joel's hair as you hold him close.

"Come for me, baby," Joel murmurs against your skin. "Soak daddy's face.”

With a final thrust of his fingers and a flick of his tongue, you come undone, your orgasm shuddering through you like an earthquake. Joel stays with you, his mouth on you as you buck around, until the last aftershock fades away.

When he finally pulls away, he crawls up your body, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips, and it only serves to heighten your desperation for him even more.

"Need to be inside you, darlin'," Joel growls. "Need to feel you wrapped around me."

“Please daddy, please.”

He gently caresses your cheeks with his large hands. The sensation feels similar to being in a sensory deprivation tank, making you feel calm and warm. His hands cradle your face like it's made of the most delicate china. “Shhh, baby, I'm here, m’gonna give you whatcha need,” he says before kissing the top of your forehead, letting his lips linger there for a moment.

He pulls away and positions himself at your entrance, his eyes locked on yours as he pushes inside, inch by inch. You're so wet, so ready for him, that he slides in easily, filling you up in a way that makes you feel like you're home.

Joel starts to move, his thrusts slow and deep. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. You can feel the tension building up inside of you again, the coil of pleasure in your belly getting tighter and tighter.

"Daddy, I - I can't, gonna come again," you gasp, your fingers digging into Joel's shoulders. The feeling is incredibly overwhelming this time as Joel's rock hard cock fills your walls, it feels like he could break through and rip you to shreds.

"Yes baby, come for me," Joel growls, his thrusts getting faster, harder. "Come for daddy.” He never takes his eyes off you, “That's a good girl.”

As your orgasm crashes over you, you feel yourself clenching around Joel's cock, your walls pulsing in time with the waves of pleasure. Joel lets out a low growl as he feels you coming, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chases his own release.

"Fuck, darlin'," he groans, his fingers digging into your hips as he pounds into you. "I'm gonna come, baby."

You can feel him swelling inside of you, his cock twitching as he gets closer and closer to the edge. With one final thrust, he comes undone, his release filling you up in a way that makes you feel impossibly full.

Joel collapses on top of you, his heavy weight making you feel warm and safe and secure. eventually, he shifts his weight, so he's beside you and wrapping you in his arms. "My princess," he murmurs, stroking your hair lovingly. You look up at him, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest. His brown eyes gaze down at you.

Your hand reaches out, your fingertips running along the side of his face, his stubble scraping against your skin. Joel leans down, his nose brushing against yours, his lips inches from yours.

"Thank you," you say softly. You want to thank him for being there for you, for loving you unconditionally, for taking care of you, and giving you everything.

"There's nothin' to thank me for,” he replies tenderly. "I couldn't be happier than I am right now, havin' you in my arms."

You rest your head against his chest, your eyes fluttering closed. You're not sure how long you lie there, but eventually, you start to feel the pull of sleep. Your eyelids grow heavy, and your breathing evens out.

—

When you wake up, you're not sure how long you've been asleep, but you feel refreshed and energized. Joel is still lying beside you, his arm still wrapped around you.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Joel murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.

"Hey," you reply softly, turning to face him.

Joel's eyes are still closed, but he's smiling. "How'd you sleep?"

"Like a baby," you reply, snuggling closer to him.

Joel's arms tighten around you, and you can feel his heart beating faster. "Good," he murmurs. "I have a surprise for you."

You look up at him, your curiosity piqued. "What is it?"

"It's a surprise," Joel says, his eyes still closed. "But I think you're going to like it."

You wait patiently, your mind racing with possibilities. Finally, Joel opens his eyes and sits up. "Come on, get dressed," he says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

You do as he says, slipping on a pair of jeans and a cute top. You're not sure what Joel has planned, but you're excited to find out.

When you're ready, Joel takes your hand and leads you out of the Villa. You follow him through the lobby and out onto the street. Joel leads you through the winding streets, pointing out different landmarks and telling you little stories about each one.

Eventually, you come to a small courtyard, tucked away from the hustle and bustle of the city. In the center of the courtyard, there's a wall covered in locks, each one engraved with the names of two people.

"This is the wall of love locks," Joel says, his voice soft. "Couples come here to declare their love for each other, and then they throw away the key."

You look up at him, your eyes wide. "That's so romantic," you say, your heart fluttering in your chest.

Joel smiles at you, taking your hand. "I want to add our own lock to the wall, if that's okay with you."

You nod, your eyes filling with tears. "That would be amazing, I've always dreamed of seeing this. "You say, your voice thick with emotion.

Joel leads you over to the wall, and you pick out a lock together. You engrave your names on it, along with the date, and then you secure it to the wall.

As you throw away the key, you feel a sense of finality.

Joel's face breaks out into a wide smile, pulling you into a tight embrace. As you stand there, surrounded by the love of the people who came before you, you can't help but feel a sense of unease and happiness mixing together.

Eventually, you make your way back to the hotel. Joel pauses in the lobby, “Hey, you head up, princess, just need to check on something at the front desk.” he hands you the key card and watches you disappear into the elevator.

He walks up to the front desk, “hello Mr. Miller, how can I be of service?”

“Just checking in for a delivery, small box?”

“Ah, yes, it was just delivered. One moment, sir.”

The receptionist heads into a room behind the desk, not long before coming back out with a small box in their gloved hand.

Joel takes the small black box and opens it, staring at the stunning ring nestled inside. He knows that he's found something special with you, and he's not going to let it go. He's going to make sure that you have the best summer of your life, and he's going to make sure that you never forget him.

—

Thank you so much for reading! Where should they go next?

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader

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