#you couldn’t abandon your daughter

[fellhellion]

Literally gnawing on that one bit of emotional honesty from Miguel where he hears Gwen helplessly say she has no idea how to fix this - and that’s what shakes him - giving that wry reply about her joining the club

[6esiree]

Accidentally Sending Them Your Nudes

Imagine sending Alastor, Lucifer, Husk, Adam, and Vox your nudes on accident?

Warnings: NSFW, AFAB reader, Swearing, They all make poor choices and take matters into their own hands, literally—they jack off to you. Lucifer’s and Adam’s parts mention videos instead of nudes. There’s some angst in there + I decided to do a quick reaction before the actual details.

Alastor:

Why did technology have to be so complicated? That’s what Alastor wondered as he pulled his phone out of his breast pocket, the wretched thing interrupting his dinner with Rosie with all the vibrating it was doing. Unfortunately, he never figured out how to silence it, and he didn’t plan to do anything about it out of sheer stubbornness.

“Is it alright if I take this?” Alastor asked Rosie, an apologetic smile on his face.

“Oh, no! It’s no problem with me, darling” Rosie said, putting her fork down and waving him off. “Go on, now—it may be somethin’ important!”

Alastor chuckled, getting up from his seat and pushing it back into the table before making his way to a more private area: the restroom. What a wise choice he had made, especially as he opened what you’d sent him, whatever irritation he previously felt vanishing almost instantaneously. Alastor hardly ever spoke to you, so he was definitely taken aback.

“Hope u like them, daddy Xx.”

——————

Knock, knock, knock!—a hushed curse seeped through Alastor’s lips, his forehead plastered against the cold bathroom tile as his fist eagerly stroked his weeping cock. The man couldn’t answer the rapping at the door, not with his belt unbuckled and his pants unfastened, the series of lewd photos you had mistakenly sent driving him to do something so…uncharacteristic of himself. But, fuck, you had such a pretty cunt.

“Is everything alright with you, Alastor?” Rosie’s voice penetrated the thin, wooden barrier, the only thing preserving his dignity. “You’ve been in there for quite a while.”

You had warned Alastor just a minute too late, your missed calls stacking up in his notifications as he stared at a photo of you in a compromising position. What a whorish thing you had done, but how could he have resisted the sight of your glistening, wet cunt spread apart by your dainty fingers, practically begging whomever you had meant that for to breed your hole?

“I believe there was…something in our food that made me fall ill,” Alastor responded weakly, his fist coming to a halt, making his cock throb in disappointment. “Feel free to leave if you’d like—I’m afraid I’ll be stuck here for a little bit longer.”

The silence Alastor was met with was nerve-wracking, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip to stifle his labored breaths while he waited for Rosie to say something—anything. Eventually, she did, a disappointed ‘Oh, alright’ gracing his ears, the sound of her heels clicking down the hallway his cue to continue with his ministrations. Alastor felt so relieved, but also utterly weak over his lack of self-restraint.

“Hey, uh, if you’re listening to this, call me back,” A voicemail suddenly played from his phone, but all he could focus on was the desperation in your voice, his knees buckling as he neared the edge. “Please, Al. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Cum spilled through the gaps between his fingers at the sound of your plea, dripping down and staining the tips of his recently-polished shoes. Alastor did not let up on his cock, however, bracing himself on the wall. A strangled groan escaped his throat as he stroked himself to overstimulation. In his twisted mind, that’s what he deserved for abandoning Rosie to jack off in a public restroom to lewd pictures of you.

Lucifer:

With an annoyed sigh, Lucifer pulled his phone from his back pocket, wondering who could be contacting him late at night. Downing whatever was left of his drink, he spotted your name in his notifications as his lock screen lit up, blinking in confusion. Out of all the residents in his daughter’s hotel, he interacted with you the least.

“Want anotha one?” Husk asked him as he grabbed his empty glass, cleaning it.

“Uhh, hold on for just a sec,” Lucifer said, unlocking his phone to see what you possibly needed from him.

Husk merely grunted in response, turning away from him to tend to somebody else. And oh, was Lucifer grateful for that, a blush creeping up his neck as he was met by the sight of something so…filthy. Underneath several short, boring texts that consisted of pleasantries, you sent him a video and the first interesting thing you’d ever told him.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about u <3.”

——————

God, did Lucifer feel depraved as he pressed the replay button on the video you had mistakenly sent him for the fifth time that night. While the true essence of your breathy moans and your squelching cunt were muffled by the putrid static his phone emanated, they were still audible enough to have Lucifer scrambling to his room, freeing himself from the confines of his pants with a gratified sigh as he lay in bed.

“Fuck, I know you didn’t mean to send this to me,” Lucifer whispered, slowly smearing his precum down the expanse of his cock as he shakily held his phone. “But I just couldn’t help myself—please forgive me.”

But what use was Lucifer’s plea for forgiveness when he was locked away in his room? He bit his lip, guilt enveloping his heart as your texts poured in, obscuring the part where you teasingly circled your clit through the thin lace of your panties. Still, instead of responding to you, Lucifer put his phone on airplane mode, the video already saved in his gallery. How wicked of him.

“Yes, show me that pretty little pussy,” Lucifer panted, his cock excitedly jumping in his hand as you tucked the fabric into the inside of your thigh, revealing your wet cunt. “Good girl—fuuuck.”

He thrusted up into his hand, imagining it was his cock pushing past your folds when you plunged two fingers inside of your hole. Lucifer had never thought about you that way before—well, until now of course. He wouldn’t be able to look at you the same, and that’s exactly what you must have feared, he thought as he picked up the pace, tossing his head back into his pillow.

“Lucifer, are you there?” He suddenly heard your voice penetrate the door, but how could he answer it when he was so close to finishing? “Husk told me you were here—come on, I just need to make sure you didn’t receive—it’s about something important.”

By placing his phone against his ear, Lucifer managed to drown out the sound of your knuckles desperately rapping at the door, your virtual cries of ecstasy sending him over the edge. Oh, how he wished he could have watched your cunt flutter around your fingers, or the way your cum dripped down your ass as you pulled them out. But Lucifer would have to do that after he dealt with the real you…including his newfound shame.

Husk:

Before Husk headed out to the bar, he emphasized that he wanted to be left alone, only taking his phone in case of an emergency. Husk wasn’t an asshole, he just wanted to spend what little free time Alastor spared him to do the things he enjoyed, especially without feeling suffocated. But, of course, someone had to disrupt his peace.

“Gotta be fuckin’ shittin me,” Husk sighed as his phone vibrated on the table, the contents of his drink moving along with it.

“Better be somethin’ important,” He mumbled.

Turning over his phone, Husk lifted a brow as he saw a few texts from you sitting in his notifications. None of them communicated any sort of urgency, but he liked you, so he decided to see what was it that you wanted. Husk blinked, the blush on his face accentuated by the alcohol in his system as he stared at something unexpected.

“Look at what u do to me...”

——————

Slumped against the furthest booth of a dimly-lit bar, Husk palmed himself through his pants. ‘Nobody’s looking at you,’ he told himself, yet his eyes continued to dart to nearby patrons as he held his phone below the table. The sleazy tendencies he thought he had abandoned long ago were awoken by a mere picture of your cunt, and with the whiskey clouding his judgment, Husk couldn’t help but indulge himself.

“Christ, is this what ya been hidin’ underneath those baggy clothes?” Husk groaned, taking in the sight of you sprawled on your bed, legs parted and cunt on full display. “So fuckin’ gorgeous.”

In his drunken haze, Husk couldn’t believe that you’d mistakenly sent him these photos, not even as your texts poured in, his thumb casting all of them aside except for one. The phrase ‘I made a mistake,’ stared back at him, and the longer Husk held the notification as he unzipped his pants, the sleazier he felt. In his defense—no, nothing could justify his actions. Nothing at all.

“No wonder I was damned for eternity,” Husk sighed, releasing the notification and freeing his cock in the cold, musty environment that was this shitty rundown bar he had chosen. “Ah, fuck.”

With his eyes glued to your wet, puffy cunt, the inside of your thighs glistening with your juices, Husk surrendered himself to the sight of you as he slowly pumped his cock. How many times had you made yourself cum? He wondered, scrolling to the next photo—oh, your breasts were in this one, and they were so pretty. Husk let out a grunt, feeling one of his suspenders slip off his shoulder as he picked up the pace.

“You’re probably busy drinking right now, but when you see this, give me a call,” It was another text of yours, a curse seeping past his lips as he read it. “Please, Husk…it’s important.”

Yeah, Husk wouldn’t be calling you back, at least not until he was sober. He feared that if he responded to you right now, he’d admit to jacking off to you, or worse, he’d admit to envying whomever was supposed to have seen you in such a crude display in the first place. Husk’s mouth fell open with a long groan, grateful for the music blaring in the background as cum cascaded down his fist. And despite his guilt, he kept your photos.

Adam:

Even though you worked with Adam five days a week, you kept contact to a minimal with him, especially when he started expressing interest in you. That’s why when you realized you accidentally texted him, you were absolutely horrified. But Adam? Oh, he was delighted to see your name in his notifications as he pulled out his phone.

“Hey, Lute, look after the girls while I take this!” Adam said, stepping away from the training grounds.

“Got it, sir,” Lute simply said, her obedience something Adam admired.

You had taken the day off, so Adam wondered what is it that you needed. Maybe you missed him? Yeah, probably, because you never contacted him outside of work. He opened your texts, his breath hitching in his throat as he realized you had sent him a video, referring to him with a pet name instead of ‘Adam.’

“Hi baby, sorry I kept u waiting for so long.”

——————

In a flurry of feathers, Adam left the training grounds, locking himself away in his office with his phone clutched tightly against his chest. There was no way you had mistakenly sent him a video of your nude body, right? You were Adam’s assistant, and he swore there was some tension simmering between the two of you, this supposed accident being your silly little way of admitting your attraction to him.

“So that’s why you took the day off, huh?” Adam huffed, practically tossing himself onto his swivel chair as he hastily undid his robes. “Sick my fucking ass.”

How many times had you rejected Adam? One, two, three—far too many times for him to think that you were playing hard to get, but his ego was just that big. That and his cock, which pulsated at the sight of your hand slowly dipping underneath the waistband of your panties, the outline of your dainty fingers running through your folds. God, you were such a tease.

“That should be me touching you,” Adam muttered, squeezing the base of his cock, precum dripping down the head. “Fuck, maybe tomorrow…”

You tried to call Adam, but all you did was interrupt the moment you lowered your panties, your contact popping up on his screen an utter inconvenience. Decline—his thumb didn’t even hesitate, putting his phone on Do Not Disturb as he resumed the video. Adam stroked his weeping cock with a renewed fervor when he finally saw your glistening cunt, so, so eager to be filled.

“Oh, you’re really gonna get it, baby,” Adam panted, his brows knitted in concentration as he watched you plunge your fingers into your slick hole. “What a greedy fucking pussy.”

You wanted him, you actually wanted him—that’s what Adam tried to convince himself as he finally came, even after you moaned out somebody else’s name at the end of the video. ‘Fuck, what have I done?’ He sighed, trying to ignore the feeling of rejection that threatened to envelop him during his post-nut clarity. As Adam reached for a tissue to clean himself, he secretly hoped that you had done this strictly for monetary reasons.

Vox:

When it came to Vox’s love life, it was virtually nonexistent, filled with possessive sex and mind-numbing arguments. So what did he do? He sought you out, a private escort who had a reputation for filling the emptiness in sinners hearts. Yeah, you dealt in the carnal stuff too, but that’s not what Vox hired you for.

“Hey, baby, my eyes are up here,” Valentino said, placing his elbows on the table, leaning in as Vox pulled out his phone.

“Yeah, I’m well aware of that, Val,” Vox replied dryly, his interest piqued as he saw several of your texts sitting in his notifications.

While Vox paid you the most out of all your clients, he still couldn’t take up most of your schedule, either. There were two days out of the week that you spent elsewhere, and you just happened to be contacting him during one of them. Vox’s heart jumped at that, but then he saw what you’d sent him, inspiring some hope in him.

“Maybe it’s time for something more Xx.”

——————

Thump!—Vox cursed, spilling his drink all over himself as his knee hit up into the table. What a goddamn inconvenience that was, but not for him, no. He used it as an excuse to escape the long overdue, monthly date Valentino had forced him to attend, anxious to deal with the issue in his pants…including the photos you had mistakenly sent him just a second earlier, paying no attention to the ‘Oops’ underneath them.

“Fuck, doll. You finally came to your senses, huh?” Vox groaned, locking himself away in the furthest stall, his fingers shakily unbuckling his belt. “About time…”

While you were a private escort, the attention you provided Vox was just too good for it to be strictly professional; and he clung onto it like a lifeline, abandoning Valentino for you even when he was in the mood for sex. Goosebumps littered his skin as he recalled your fleeting touches, even though they had never dared to visit the area between his legs.

“Ah, fuck,” Vox sighed as he freed his cock, precum dripping down into the crevices between his fingers as he stared at your wet, puffy cunt. “Can’t believe I’ve been missing this all along.”

Vox imagined that it was your dainty hands wrapped around his cock, your chest pressed against his back instead of the cold steel door of the restroom stall as you slowly pumped him. If Vox simply paid you, he wouldn’t have to use his imagination. However, he wanted you to pleasure him without the promise of money, because then that would mean that you wanted him.

“Hey, baby, I know you saw what I sent you,” A voicemail of yours suddenly played out loud, his heart jumping at the sound of your voice. “You know they weren’t for you, right? It was an accident.”

‘An accident? No, it couldn’t be,’ Vox thought, a groan escaping his throat as he finally came, his cum staining the tile between his feet. While he felt relieved, it was only for a bit, the disappointment quickly settling in his stomach soon after. But it wasn’t until Vox cleaned himself up and replayed your voicemail that he accepted he was just another one of your clients. Valentino was the best he’d get when it came to love.

[cheralith]

to a heart's content — 「 single father!miguel o'hara x reader 」

content warnings ; fem!reader, use of she/her pronouns, "mother"/"daughter"/"wife" used, parental death, mentions of child abandonment, not too much mention of him being spider-man

contains ; single father!miguel o'hara, boss!miguel o'hara, assistant!reader, hints of pining, just some good ol' fluff for everyone's current favorite dilf, angst w/ comfort, heavy need of editing prob, not beta read

notes ; purely self-indulgent to fuel my love of found family trope apologies

parts: one two three four (tba)

Single Father!Miguel O'Hara whose life revolves essentially around one person—his daughter—but to be one of the heads of America’s largest corporation and bearing the responsibility of keeping Nueva York safe and sound whilst simultaneously being a single father was not exactly something that Miguel O’Hara could juggle so easily. Hell, he’s even surprised that he’s made it so far without losing his absolute sanity considering he couldn’t even recall the last time he was able to rest properly without his attention being wavered to something or someone else.

Single Father!Miguel whose hands always filled to the brim with tasks and obligations. Miguel wished he was able to clone himself twice in order to have three Miguel O’Haras attending to each of his duties soundly, but alas, Alchemax and the matter of his mind can only do so much.

Single Father!Miguel whose ever so lucky to have you as his assistant to at least help with two out of three of them. You entered the picture around three years ago, when he had caught the eye of his superiors and had used his intelligence to their own advantage, disguising it as a promotion of sorts. You were given as some sort of gift to them as a way to help ease his workload and he truly couldn’t be more thankful for your existence—if he doesn’t necessarily show it most of the time from his stoic countenance he masks on 24/7. While not exactly a carbon copy of him, you, by far, come rather close, and Miguel will take whatever comes to him in this day and age.

Single Father!Miguel who notices that you're obedient and demure, though rather soft spoken and a little too apprehensive for his liking at times (he had noticed, before you became his assistant, that your coworkers would shovel their workload onto you and you’d accept with little complaint but evident hesitation; he wonders if it was the given similarities between you and him that made him choose you as his assistant). You dressed well, hung onto every word he said, and spoke out when properly needed. You were a good aid to have around—great, even.

Single Father!Miguel who trusts you as both his assistant and a human being enough to leave his precious daughter in your care knowing full well she would be in good hands. Sometimes Alchemax would work him overtime, sometimes his duties as Spider-Man would interfere. No matter what it was, it delayed him from seeing and attending to his daughter’s needs, and thus, he had asked you once in a while to pick up and babysit his daughter after your usual 9-5.

Single Father!Miguel who, at the beginning, once in a while asked you to pick his daughter up from school. Once in a while turned into occasionally. Occasionally turned into sometimes. Sometimes turned into constantly, and next thing Miguel knew, you were the one that his daughter and teachers would look out for during school pick up time. He didn’t expect that you would become his assistant even outside of work, but you did, and Miguel can’t exactly turn back time now. He’s labeled you as his child’s unofficial secondary caretaker—you’re even listed as an emergency contact.

Single Father!Miguel who thinks you’re too polite for your own good. Miguel had asked you once if this was a burden, being his assistant both in and out of Alchemax, and if it became too much that you were more than free to quit at any sudden time without consequence. You had merely replied that you understood the struggles of being a single parent and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of asking for help when it was needed. 

Single Father!Miguel who notices that Gabriella views you more than just her occasional babysitter. When he'd come home late at night, he was usually greeted by you two doing something together, whether it be doing math homework together, baking cookies, you reading aloud to her, or just simply talking, he'd always catch you and her almost... bonding.

Single Father!Miguel who often dwells on the memory of young Gabriella asking innocently why she doesn't have two parents like the rest of her classmates, why she only had one parent compared to everyone else after witnessing she was the odd one out during Family Day. Miguel didn't, and still doesn't, have the courage to tell her that her real mother had abandoned her to him, leaving Miguel in the dust. Miguel used her naivety to his advantage. He disguised it as her being unique compared to others, that some moms just came later in life; she just happened to be a late bloomer.

Single Father!Miguel who always thanks you for staying late tucking Gabriella into bed when he couldn't. You constantly tell him that it's truly no problem, but he insists on thanking you every time and ever so subtly increasing your paycheck. How could he not? Especially considering the fact you always, always whip him up extra dinner that was tucked away for him to eat during the late hours of night.

Single Father!Miguel who feels uneasy as he opens up a fridge to find the said pasta left by you one night in a glass tupperware container, staring at how neatly it’s been plated despite its standard container. He juts it into the microwave as he attempts to ignore how quiet and desolate the kitchen and the apartment is, how the humming of the microwave and the humdrum of the ceiling fan are the only noise that floats through. And when he quietly eats the pasta serving meant for one, he can’t help but gaze longingly at the empty seat across the dining table, where someone else should be seated with him sharing the same meal.

Single Father!Miguel who finally has the time to pick up his daughter after school for once in the school year, but forgot to tell you that you were able to take the rest of the day off. So you, him, Gabriella, and essentially everyone are surprised when both you and Miguel show up to pick Gabriella up after school. One of the teachers goes to gush about how she's excited to meet Gabriella's dad and what a beautiful family you all are, to which you and Miguel, evidently flustered, explain loosely your relationship to each other and how it's merely professional (to one curly-headed third grader, though, it's not—but she'd never tell you and her father that. At least not now.).

Single Father!Miguel who tags along to Gabriella's after school soccer practice for once and despite your protests about you not wanting to interfere "family time", Miguel and his daughter convince you to come watch her like you usually did on Wednesdays. He says he doesn't mind at all and if anything, could use your presence there to ease his nerves since he'd be a newcomer to the soccer parent group.

Single Father!Miguel who watches attentively to how you support Gabriella on the field from the sidelines. He wonders tenaciously if you've fallen into routine of this—from helping her get ready into her uniform to offering small suggestions that help her on the soccer field. He doesn't miss the way her eyes go towards you whenever she did something right and he especially catches onto the fact that she would gush in pure happiness from your approval when you would throw a thumbs up or a delighted nod.

Single Father!Miguel who merely blinks at the compliments given by the two friendly soccer mom next to him.

"Gabi does certainly look a lot like you, but she still has (Y/N)'s beauty and kindness, doesn't she?"

"Oh yes, I agree. Your wife is nothing less of lovely, you know, you're a very lucky man, Mr. O'Hara!"

He's so caught up in trying to process both their words and Gabriella's action on the field, that it doesn't register to him until a few moments later. Miguel attempts to butt in, saying that you're just his subordinate, but when a loud cheer from the other team erupts through, his words fail him.

Single Father!Miguel whose mind is still so stuck on what the soccer moms had said about you that he didn't even realize Gabriella had made the winning goal for today's practice match. Lying through his teeth when asked about if he saw it from her, he realizes that perhaps he should start viewing you in a different light rather than just his daughter's babysitter because the way that Gabriella looks at you with such elation when you congratulate her on her win pulls at his heartstrings ever so slightly.

Single Father!Miguel who contemplates over and over again if he should be doing this—inviting you to Gabriella's first game of the season—the two purchased tickets he held in his fist. You've entered his home a dozen of times, but this would be the first time in three years that he was outside of your own residence. He thinks he's too dressed up for the occasion, cladded in a white button up and black dress pants. A voice asks him if he's his daughter's boyfriend, and Miguel whips around to face an elderly man with a questioned look on his face.

Single Father!Miguel who realizes that it's your father standing in front of him, spare key in hand. He's quick to say no (to your father's disappointment), and introduces himself as your superior. Your father invites Miguel inside your apartment, telling him that you were out fetching groceries and jokingly mentions he uses this opportunity to sneakily fill your cabinets and fridge of food. Your father complains you're too independent for your own good, but he can't exactly blame you—you grew up that way.

Single Father!Miguel who learns that once in your life you were just like his daughter and that in one point in your father's life, he was just like Miguel. All details shared from him, he learns that your mother passed away early in your life due to cancer and ultimately left you and your father to fend for yourselves. Your father tells Miguel that you often had helped out even when you didn't need to—and it doesn't take long for Miguel to piece the pieces together. Why you barely complain about the extra workload, why your father said you're too autonomous, and why all those years ago you not only sympathized with Miguel, but understood his situation as you came from the same exact upbringing.

Single Father!Miguel who listens intently when your father quietly tells him that all he wants for you is to find a good man that would be able to take care of you properly because he believes he wasn't able to. Miguel is quick to reassure him, however, that he did a fantastic job raising a selfless, humble woman that grew to be compassionate and considerate of others' needs, that you were the hardest worker he had ever seen and that he shouldn't discredit himself. Your father goes to examine Miguel for a moment before letting out a loud, haughty laugh in your apartment and jokingly (not really) tells Miguel he hopes that you'll marry him one day, or at least someone like him.

Single Father!Miguel whose resolve dissipates when you walk into your apartment to find your boss and your father talking amongst each other. He sits silently and awkwardly as you complain to your father about dropping by without any warning before you ask him what was he doing here in the first place. Your father takes his leave, winking at Miguel with a glint in his eye, leaving you two in your apartment alone.

Single Father!Miguel who finally gathers up the courage to ask you if you'd like to attend Gabriella's soccer game with him. You interject with visible hesitation, telling him that it was implied that it was a family-only event and you'd hate to intrude onto something so intimate, but he's quick to reassure you that his daughter would love to have you there considering all the help you had given her during her practices—if anything, she would need you there for your support.

Single Father!Miguel who tells you that Gabriella had shown visible distress last night when Miguel told her that you might not be able to come due to your non-familial relationship with them. He almost begged you to come with them, as Gabriella had even threatened to quit soccer altogether if you weren't there to witness her first game. When you give in after moments of contemplation, Miguel truly couldn't believe his luck.

Single Father!Miguel who roots alongside you for Gabriella and her team, watching oh so closely just in case someone from the other team did a dirty trick on his precious daughter. He'd sometimes occasionally glance at you, only to see you completely zoned in and focused on Gabriella's playing like the rest of the parents, offering your support through compliments and encouragements that his daughter always caught and would visibly improve from. When she finally scores the winning goal per usual, she's quick to ignore the cheers coming from her teammates and parents to run off the field and not look for Miguel first, but for you.

"Did you see me?!" Gabriella exclaims excitedly as she flings her arms around your waist. "Did you see what I did?!"

"I did, yes," you laugh, attempting not to stumble over from the impact with visible glee and crouch down to her height. Pride written all over your face, you grin. "And I'm so incredibly proud of you."

"It's 'cause I did what you taught me," she declares. "I pointed first and then I shooted!" She uses hand gestures to reanimate her play on the field.

"Shot, Gabi," you correctly gently, your fingers going to automatically comb out the tangles out of her hair like you usually did after practices. "It does come handy, doesn't it?"

"Yeah!" Her eyes go to see Miguel, who doesn't stalk too far behind with open arms and the same proud look painted on his face. "Dad! Didja see me?! Didja see that I scored?!"

Miguel lets out a once-in-a-blue-moon chuckle and lifts his daughter into his arms, her arms wrapping around his neck in an affirming hug. "I saw very clearly, mi cariño, and I can't wait to brag about how my daughter scored the winning shot for her team," he compliments warmly.

Gabriella goes to point gleefully in your direction. "It was all because of Miss. (Y/N)," she declares, not knowing that her statement would make a rush of heat bloom onto your face.

"O-oh no... I only... w-well," you stammer out meekly, trying to find the right words. "I'm actually not too knowledgeable on soccer... I only repeated what I found online and—"

"Thank you," Miguel starts off fondly. "(Y/N), truly. Thank you."

You stare at him. "Mr. O'Hara..."

He sets Gabriella down for her to join her rejoicing teammate and pats the small of your back with a grateful look plastered on his face. You were so used to seeing the rather stoic and often tired side of Miguel O'Hara that you forgot he, too, was capable of smiling at times, so when you spotted the small of a grin on his lips that was for you specifically, you felt something in your chest jerk a little bit.

"If it weren't for you being here," he starts off quietly so only you can hear. "Gabi wouldn't have participated at all. She wanted you to come so she'd have enough courage to play because she was so used to you supporting her," Miguel glances at his daughter giggling about on the field. "So it was understandable that if her biggest supporter wasn't here to cheer her on, she wouldn't exactly do her best."

You blink slowly at him, digesting his words in order to truly savor them for all that they were. "I was just—"

"—doing your job?" Miguel finishes for you. He shakes his head. "Last time I remember, 'attending your boss's daughter's soccer games' wasn't on your job description," he says, earning a soft chuckle out of you despite his rather flat tone.

"I suppose so," you murmur with an evident warmth in your eyes, one that Miguel is sure Gabriella has seen numerous times and will continue to welcome as long as you're around.

So when after a dinner celebration at her favorite restaurant, after the star player is tucked into bed after a long day's work, Miguel takes it upon himself to do the what he thought was the impossible for him but possible for Gabriella.

"Stay safe out there," Miguel directs quietly as he helps you put on your coat again. "And again, thank you for today."

"It was my pleasure, Mr. O'Hara," you reply, "And I actually had fun today, so I can thank you for that."

He escorts you down the apartment complex to the lobby and begins to watch you leave, the words on his tongue tipping ever so slowly before they spill the moment you're about to exit through the doors.

"(Y/N)."

At the sound of your voice, you turn to him with a questioning look on your face. "... yes?"

Miguel opens and closes his mouth like a fish for a couple of seconds before blurting out, "Are you free tomorrow evening?"

He scans your face for a reaction before surprise paints itself on your moonlit features. "I-I suppose I am," you nod slowly. "May I ask why?"

"Gabi is having a sleepover at one of her teammate's house," Miguel coughs out and shoves his hands into his pockets to hide their fidgeting.

"Do you need me to drop her off...?" you ask, clearly puzzled.

"No, um," he clears his throat again. "I was... I was actually wondering if you'd... if you'd like to check out that new restaurant that opened up on Clark..."

Regret pools in his mouth the second it falls from his lips and he begins to internally conjure some sort of half-assed lie, perhaps saying something along the lines of the company wanted him to review it for a potential cater in the future or that a friend of his worked there, but when he sights your eyes softening with the same warmth from earlier, he lets you take the reigns on fate.

"I'd quite like that," you murmur, a modest smile on your lips.

a/n ; i told you i was going to give into temptation. wrote this on a plane with no wifi on the way here (thank god for offline editing!)

anyways, i'm trying to squeeze this bit out before my plane ride tmrw since i've been travelling for the past week and a half! i'll be returning home soon where i can finally write to my heart's content, phew! i just reallyyyyy wanted to write something for miguel adjdjfkfalwf but fear not! we shall be back to our regularly scheduled program soon!

as always, thank you for reading and likes+comments+reblogs are always appreciated and never unnoticed（╹◡╹）♡!

[r1elle]

atsumu who just gets so annoyed at that stupid plushie on your bed.

at first, he denies it. he denies it because the whole matter is just so above and beyond him.

to be genuinely pissed at some stuffed animal? please. he’s THE MSBY Black Jackals’ Setter. a PRO volleyball player. and most importantly, a GROWN man. being jealous over some sewn up cotton? goodness.

but the nights you had abandoned and turned your back towards him just to unconsciously reach for that plushie and cuddle with it instead began to frequent more than atsumu could tolerate.

hes definitely death threatening that stuffed beast (his own choice of words) the morning after.

is this what those scientists in shows felt like when their own experiments went against them? because seeing that white teddy bear he had prided himself in buying as a gift for your anniversary come and replace him during the hours of your slumber wasn’t really the nicest feelings ever.

so, if you find a rather jolly and humming atsumu sipping his coffee at 8:30 am in the morning, just know that he’s feeling really accomplished and expecting your figure to be the only thing he’s holding from the moment you close your eyes, and up for when you open them once again.

“mornin’, baby. whats up with the upset brows?

oh, but don’t look at how the attic just so happened to have its entrance slightly ajar. unfortunately, doing a clean job wasn’t really in atsumu’s blood that day.

____

“atsumu, have you seen the bear you got me for our anniversary? i’m worried… i cant seem to find it. it’s just.. gone?”

“eh? that big thing? how would it even get lost in the first place?”

“i know.. it’s so weird..”

“maybe yer’ just not looking hard enough, sweet.”

“but how—?……also, why’s the attic open?”

“ya look beautiful, by the way.”

“wh—?”

“just woke up too. so gorgeous. wouldn’t expect less from ya. c’mon, let’s go on a walk.”

“but atsumu, the att—

“i think the tulips you planted finally bloomed. let’s check, hm?”

“i just planted them three days ago—?? hey! atsumu! ats—!!”

well. taking an unexpected walk around the neighbourhood on an empty stomach definitely didn’t make things any better that morning.

——

though, if it alleviates anything within you, perhaps do take note at the horror on atsumu’s face upon the sight of your child dusting off that same white teddy bear she had “found while treasure hunting in the attic!” six years later.

as you make a snide comment (totally not directed at your awfully tense husband), and lead your daughter to washing the now roughed up plush, atsumu couldn’t help but feel as if that bear had been plotting against him, making sure to come back with even more malice for their inevitable reunion. (what a poetic mind, atsumu.)

and so, with no you to hold and to feel, and with no daughter to keep close by,

the bed surely felt colder that night.

stupid bear.

———————————————————————————

shameless plug but if u want more atsumu then.. heheh —> loser tsumu ;3

but yeah i don’t think the atsumu hyperfixation is ever gonna end

[luveline]

Hiiiiii!!!!!!! I recently got back into criminal minds and devoured all ur hotch fics like a MANIAC (you write. So unbelievably well. Im also in love w ur tasm peter stuff, you are just such a good writer thru and thru) and that one request where Jack calls reader mom for the first time really stuck w me so I was wondering if maybe I could request smth of the opposite? Like not-so-single mom!reader and hotch have been dating for a while and her lil girl calls him dad for the first time :3 🖤🖤

thank you for requesting! 💌 —your daughter calls Hotch dad for the first time. fem, 2k

“Come in, come in!” Hotch says, the door held ajar by his arm, forcing you to squeeze in and save the heat. “Quickly, honey, please, get out of the rain.” 

Sarah bursts in through the door and away from the rain, her vinyl coat covered in raindrops, her boots wet with mud. “Aaron!” she says, pulling it into something softened and excited at once, though her ‘r’s are weak, closer to ‘w’s. “I missed you.” She jumps from one foot to the other. 

He makes sure you’re safely inside before he abandons you. It’s not very kind to you, but he can’t help himself. “Sarah,” he says, without your daughter’s sweetness but heavily fond, “I missed you more, honey. How many days has it been?” 

“Four!” she says, holding up four fingers as Hotch grabs her by the waist. 

He doesn’t mind her wet coat, working an arm around and beneath her to shuck off her muddy shoes. They topple to the ground to unveil damp socks. 

“Oh, no, your socks are wet. I did all the laundry while we were waiting, I have some warm ones for you in the dryer. Should we get you out of this coat?” 

“Where’s Jack?” you ask. 

“Eating. He was starving, couldn’t wait.” 

You kick your shoes off and gather them with Sarah’s to line up by the door. Hotch takes off Sarah’s coat with some one-armed manoeuvring, aware of her smiley gaze following his every move. 

“I,” you say, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek, cold lips to his rough skin, “am gonna go to the toilet really quickly. Hi, handsome.” 

He savours your kiss and watches you go. He owes you a better greeting, he missed you just as much as he missed your girl. For now, he wipes the cold from Sarah’s cheeks and stations her comfortably on his navel. 

He loves her like his own. He’s privileged to get the opportunity, and it’s hard not to feel that low level of awe whenever she’s around, because she loves him the same way. Sarah waits for him to smile before she wraps her arms around his neck, long enough to twine her fingers in the short hair she finds there. 

It’s funny to love someone you had no hand in bringing into the world, but no less real. He’d do anything for Sarah. I miss you doesn’t cover it, but it’s a start. “I missed you,” he murmurs, not well-versed in baby talk but always willing to try for his kids. “It’s so nice to see you. Jack missed you too, should we go see him? I can change your socks.” 

He ushers her back enough to see her. She has such loving eyes, not shy at all as she nods her head. “Can you make crackers?” 

He beams. “Oooh, yes. Crackers and cheese and apple slices, I know what you want, honey. It’s ready for you in the kitchen.” 

Things weren’t easy at first for either you nor Hotch. He works too much, and you both have priorities that can’t be shifted, but the connection between you was easy. Love, undoubtedly, pretty much the moment you met, even if it scared him. He never thought he’d get a second chance and he’s not sure you thought you’d find yours either, and yet loving you has been as helpless as loving your daughter. He doesn’t have a choice and he doesn’t want one. 

In this time, you’ve found routine. He’s introduced the idea of moving in together and you’re excited for it, though concrete plans haven’t been laid. There’s a lot of questions and no need to rush into answering them yet. He has no intentions of letting you go now —Hotch will do anything it takes to keep his small family. 

Today, right now, that’s crackers. 

“Sarah!” Jack says when he sees them, jumping off of his chair to climb on top of it. He holds his hands out and Hotch leans down with a loving laugh to let his son hug her. “You’re back!” 

“I’m back,” she agrees. 

“Do you want some of my sandwiches? Daddy made me two.” 

“Yes!” she says, wiggling to be put down and given what he’s promising. 

Hotch fights to take her to the sink and wash her little hands, to her horror and whining. He says, “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you gotta wash your hands before you eat.” 

He puts her in her own chair, and it is Sarah’s chair, outfitted with a big pillow so she can see the table and marked by a pink star sticker, putting a placemat in front of her. Jack quickly pushes one of his sandwiches towards her. “There you go.” 

“Thank you, Jackers,” she says. 

Hotch smiles. Despite their different interests and ages, they’re quick to get along. 

He shouldn’t pry while you’re in the bathroom, but he worries about you. “Honey?” he calls up the stairs. 

“I’m just changing!” 

“Yeah? Can you bring some socks for Sarah, please?” 

You shout back something incomprehensible. He returns to the kitchen, where Sarah looks over the chair with pleading eyes and asks, “Crackers?” a piece of lettuce stuck to her chin. 

“Ah,” he says showfully, turning to the fridge to grab the plate of crackers, sliced cheese, and apples he’d Saran wrapped an hour ago. He peels off the wrapping and places it in front of her. “Here, sweetheart. Do you want anything else? Maybe some chips?” 

She laughs and grabs a piece of apple without answering him. 

“What about you, sweetheart? Drink?” he asks Jack. 

“Yes please, daddy.” 

Hotch makes Jack a cup of orange juice and Sarah a sippy cup, hers diluted some with water. He places them down in front of the kids, crouching between their chairs, intending to stay and chat. “How’s that?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to listen for your light footsteps on the stairs.  

“Thanks, daddy,” Jack says. 

“Thank you, daddy,” Sarah echoes, reaching for him. Hotch offers his hand, startled, not quick enough to hide it. She doesn’t pay any mind to his expression, pleased to have her hand held and her big plastic plate of crackers to munch on. 

“Why’d you look like you’ve seen a ghost?” you ask, passing him Sarah’s socks, and rounding the table to stand by Jack's other side. “Hi,” you add, ruffling Jack’s hair, “look at you, gorgeous, you got your hair cut.” 

Hotch rubs Sarah’s knuckles, trying to phrase it, not sure how to tell you with the kids still there. Will Sarah feel embarrassed if he brings it up so swiftly? Will she feel like she’s done something wrong? Will you? 

“What’s wrong?” you ask. 

He decides to present you with the situation. He’s not manipulative, but clever. “Mommy got your socks, too. Can we take these cold ones off, is that okay?” 

“Yes, please,” Sarah says.

You watch in confusion. Hotch gives you a quick look. Trust me for a second. 

He eases the socks off of her feet, laughs when she laughs at his tickling, even if he’s not quite sure how to feel. Happy, he gives her toes a squeeze and bunches a sock up to pull it over her heel and up to her ankle. “One,” he says, repeating the process with the same tenderness. “Two. There we go, all warm again, Sarah.” 

“Thanks, daddy.” 

You breathe in. 

Sarah puts some cheese on a cracker and offers it to Hotch, who eats it while you summon him away with silent parent talk. He kisses her forehead and wipes it clean as he goes. 

“Did she do that when I was upstairs?” you ask quietly. 

Hotch knows you. Loves you, but knows you intrinsically. He knows just by looking at you that you’re happy, but you’re worried about something, and it’s not hard to guess what it is: he might not want Sarah to call him daddy, and telling her not to might break her heart, and yours too. 

“She did.” 

“She’s never… expressed that interest to me.” 

“Sometimes they think about things more than we know.” Jack still surprises him as he did when he was a toddler.

“She just loves you,” you say. 

“I love her. She can call me whatever she wants to.” 

You hold his wrist, taking a step closer to him. “Are you sure?” 

“Of course I’m sure.” He murmurs now you’re close, ducking his head to yours, two halves of the same heart looking at one another’s hands. “I love her more than anything in the world. I want to make her crackers for the rest of my life.” Hotch puts his index finger to the soft skin under your chin. “Maybe by tomorrow she’ll forget she called me daddy and she’ll never say it again, but… I want her to. Is that okay?” he asks. 

You lean up to kiss him and you nod into his lips, which makes it hard but not impossible to kiss back. “She loves you so much,” you say quietly. You’d only wanted a quick peck. 

He might’ve said he loves her more than anything, but there’s a level on which he holds her and Jack where you sit too. He loves you. You made Sarah who she is all by yourself, and you’re so lovable standing in his reach. You’re perfect. 

Maybe he’s feeling sweet because Sarah called him daddy. 

“I think Jack confused her,” he says. 

“Maybe. You are, you know, her dad. You do everything a dad would.” 

Hotch slots his leg between yours and leans back to force you into his favourite kind of hug. You laugh slowly, hug the same, your arms sliding up over his shoulders to wrap behind his head, your hand cupping his hair. 

He closes his eyes and feels your waist. 

“You don’t have to worry,” he says. 

“I don’t worry about you and Sarah, I know you love her. I guess I just worry about us. Not that you don’t love me, Aaron.” 

“Big changes,” he guesses in a whisper. 

“Big changes.” 

He encourages you away to hold your face. He hopes that waiting with you in quiet for a while can explain it better than words. 

Your shoulders finally relax. 

[evolnoomym]

Washing Machine Heart 🩶

Mom’s Best-friend!Joel Miller x f!reader

Main Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist

Summary: Your Mom is not nice to you, her only Daughter, always picking on you whenever she can. To get back at her you decide to seduce and fuck her Highschool Best-friend Joel Miller. Oh she also has a crush on him so that’s a bonus.

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: no use of y/n, female reader, implied abuse, childhood trauma, alcohol, smut, reader has no name only nicknames, size difference, age gap, readers age is mentioned and Joel is more than double sooo, mommy issues, strained relationships, petty shit, cream pie, tittys, choking kind of, teasing, Joel is tiny bit Pervy, of course Daddy kink, unprotected p in v,

If I missed anything please let me know 🙏🏻

Authors note: I was mad so this is what I cooked up lol

Shoutout to @cafekitsune for the dividers 🫶🏻

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. This is my first time writing smut sooooo be nice please. I’m totally here for constructive criticism or feedback on how to improve. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly. 🖤

Song’s I listened to while writing:

I Hate My Mom by GRLwood

Class of 2013 by Mitski

I hope ur miserable until ur dead by Nessa Barrett

Bubblegum Bitch by MARINA

Backstabber by Kesha

Jerk by Oliver Tree

You know exactly when the relationship between you and your mother started deteriorating- The day she decided to choose your loser Stepdad, the one she only dated for 4 years, over her own 8 year old daughter. From then on you took a backseat in her life yet she still expected you to take care of her all needs. You hate her for what she did and you miss her like a little kid. You had to drag her home when she drank too much, you can’t even remember how often that happened. Always having to jump in between that asshole and her fighting cuz even though she practically emotionally abandoned you, you still wanted to protect her from harm's way. She forced you to grow up so quickly, it’s her fault you never got a real childhood.

For years you accepted that this is normal. The screaming, the violence and the degrading words became a part of growing up. You were a kid but not clueless, someone who loves you wouldn’t have done all of this. And yet all of them tried so hard to make you shut up and believe it’s what you deserved.

Luckily what happened did not entirely break you. No, you grew into someone who fought for herself since no one ever did that.

Of course you hoped she might realize her mistakes, apologize and change but nothings new with her. She’s great at pretending to be a better person to the outside world, than she is in reality, behind closed doors the mask unveils an ugly woman. A narcissistic self absorbed monster that took all your joy away.

It’s pathetic considering how much she always talks about getting abused by her own father but instead of breaking the cycle she doubled down on it. Going as far as using that as an excuse for what she did to her own child.

She only kinda stopped the abuse once you no longer were a small child. Now that you could fight back she did not corner you anymore.

But just because she couldn’t hit you anymore doesn’t mean the picking on you stopped, no, it was her mission to rid you of the last remaining confidence and self love.

In each screaming match she tried so hard to gaslight you into believing you were crazy for feeling offended by her disgusting behavior.

One time you asked why she hit you as a little kid and the answer left you completely blown away. She expressed that you cried so much, and did it to provoke her. What else could she have possibly done other than raise her hand?

Or another time she refused to acknowledge that she hit you at all but a second later told you that perhaps if she would’ve done worse you would’ve turned out better.

At some point you stopped calling her Mom and only went with her name. You knew that it must hurt but did she really deserve that title after everything she did?

Now at 21 years old the relationship is just as rocky, not much has changed.

Your mom has basically zero friends, she’s a bitch of course no one would want to be too close, well except for Joel…..Joel Miller that somehow was her friend.

Perhaps only since they have known each other since High School, he might have felt some kind of obligation towards her due to that. She told you once that Joel was the boy every girl had a crush on with his whole guitar playing thing they all swooned over him.

Even now all those years later Joel was a beautiful specimen, tall, broad shoulders, huge hands, strong arms you’d like to be enveloped by, tanned freckled skin, a cute butt, gorgeous brown curls with slightly gray streaks showing his age, big brown eyes, a prominent nose and soft pillow like lips.

You understand why your Mom had a crush on him, any woman would bend over for him if he’d say so. She thought it was not too noticeable but unlike Joel you caught it immediately.

She made you the reason for her life being so shitty but now after years of torment you saw a chance at really giving her a reason to hate you. Maybe something is wrong with you for liking the idea of breaking her heart so much but you honestly couldn’t care less. The one you felt sorry for most was probably Joel; he would be the pawn in your deranged game without knowing.

As it turns out though Joel is not as innocent as expected, the more you tried to get closer the more you realized he might be easier to seduce than originally anticipated.

You started with small things like hugging him a bit longer than normally so he could feel you perky full tits squished against his chest. Touching his arms and squeezing them but not too much as if to draw attention to it. And from his reactions, he did not seem to mind.

You were not worried about your mother, she never was the most alert to begin with.

When Joel came over for a barbecue you used the time alone with him in the garden while your mother was in the kitchen preparing god knows what to impress him.

Joel and you had some interesting conversations.

“Soooo you work in contracting, right?” You asked him sweetly. Joel chuckled “Yeah sweetheart, I do. But ya know tha’ already, so why ask?” You played it off as much as you could “Just making sure you didn't decide to switch career paths in the time I haven’t seen you…” you look up at him through your lashes, cheekily biting your lip. Joel of course fell into the trap, his eyes going down to your plush lips in mere seconds. Got ya you dirty old men.

You stepped closer until you two were only a couple inches apart. His chest almost touched yours. In this position you really had to Crane your neck up to keep eye contact consistent.

“What are ya doing Baby,huh?” Joel tilted his head slightly down towards your face. You just giggled at him “Nothin Joel, just…” with that you put your hands on his wide chest ruining them down over his enticing slightly protruding belly. “I know you stare at my ass alllllll the time. I also know you like it when I walk close by you and graze you with my tits. My little skimpy outfits turn you on as well don’t they,huh Joel?” You smirk at him.

You can see how he clenches his jaw…ohhh yes you got him figured out.

He hisses low and menacing at you “You are a little slut ain’t ya, baby. Groping a man over double your age. Teasin me with those sugar tits and that tight lil ass….”

You can see his pupils dilate till his eyes look close to being completely blacked out. You muse “Yeah I’m a whore but you like that don’t you?” With that you cup his hard cock over his shorts he decided to wear today.

He gasps and immediately grips your wrist to yank those devilish hands away from his throbbing length. Especially when he hears your mother’s voice calling out from inside the house.

He backs off and tries to catch his breath as well as calm his raging hard on down to an unnoticeable minimum. Before he leaves to figure out what she called for he turns to you and lifts an accusing finger towards you.

“We ain’t done baby, ya gonna make it up to me for teasin and leavin me all high and dry, mkay?” He tilts his head almost to intimidate you but to no avail you’re just a massive brat “Hmmm sure Joeliii but i think your underwear is anything but dry.” You giggle and continue “Probably full of pre cum am I right,huh?”

Joel can’t believe what he’s gotten himself into and just shakes his head while turning to the house.

Somehow he made it through the barbecue without your mother noticing any tension between Joel and you. Stupid of her but good for you.

In the weeks after that afternoon you and him kept secretly meeting up. Most of the time at his house or he’d pick you up with his truck to drive you somewhere where he could have you without any distractions, of course when your mom wasn’t home. She might be stupid but even to her it would be weird why you suddenly start taking trips with Joel and she should not be suspicious.

Also during the talks with Joel that happened when taking a break between fucking it was once again made clear that he for whatever reason had not an ounce of knowledge about your mom’s crush.

The plan for how the reveal should go was set in motion. Your mom was driving out to one of those weird grocery stores that sold the health powders she drowned herself in, in hopes of making her more pretty from the inside out but to no avail the rot can’t be reversed.

You knew how long that would take her, it gave you enough time to fuck Joel in her favorite spot on the couch. Yeah petty and perhaps childish but you don’t care make her remember how you defiled her lovely couch with the man she was in love with.

Joel showed up 10 minutes after she drove off. You barely got the door closed behind him before he pounced on you. It’s been a few weeks since you fucked him last, you wanted him to be desperate for it so he’ll might be more focused on pounding you then notice that your mother is returning.

He immediately slotted his lips over yours, his hands grabbing at your hips with urgency.

You spin with him attached to your lips so you can guide him where you want him, on the couch. His breathing is already elevated and by the significantly evident bulge he’s massively turned on. Good, the less rational thinking the better.

While you push him towards the couch his lips slip down your jaw and land on your throat kissing and sucking all over. Between those kisses he huffs “Babyyy - I’ve - missed - ya so - much…” you just hum as an answer and when the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch he’s forced to unlatch from you.

He falls back, his head hitting the soft pillows so he’s only slightly elevated. You wink at him “yeah I bet you have and most of all He has missed me huh? Looks almost painful, did you not touch yourself in meantime?”

He sounds a bit whiny in his response “No Baby haven’t touched myself, saved it all for ya greedy little pussy.” Even when you think to have the upper hand he reminds you how different it actually is. “Come on baby, why don’t ya take of that lil skirt an’ take seat on my lap.” While grabbing at his crotch.

Your mouth is watering but there’s no time today to get your mouth on him like you usually love to. At his dirty words you can feel some wetness gush from your pulsing cunt, coating the inside of your thighs. As requested you slip your flowy skirt down your legs.

Joel let's out a gasp „No panties baby? Ya naughty little slut.“ he chuckles and you retort „Don’t need them if I’m with you, so why make it harder than it needs to be?“ at that Joel can only nod.

„Come here Sweet Moon Love.“ he demands.

You get on your hands and knees between his spread legs that lay on the couch. Slowly crawling towards him teasing him with your tits that are almost spilling out of your skimpy tank top.

When you finally sit down on his jeans-covered cock he lets out a sound of relief. Your knees on either side of his hips and his hands immediately find home on your hips and ass, kneading and caressing the skin there.

„Fuck Moon ya turn me on so much take of that goddamn top and show me those sweet sugar tits.“

So you do, slipping it over your head and throwing it somewhere behind you. He’s not surprised by the lack of a bra. He knows you hate wearing them and if he’s honest he loves that a lot, easier access and all.

Joel’s hands go from your hips up to the tits he loves so much. Carefully touching them, his warm hands and the wonderful feeling making it unable not to moan. Swiping his calloused fingers over your nipples, twisting them with determination causing you to keen.

You start arching your back towards his groping hands. His administrations cause the pull in your lower stomach to Continuously get stronger. You are convinced his jeans are covered in your juices and without realizing you’ve started to rub your bare pussy over his bulge with vigor.

„Joel enough I need you inside me, now!“ You don’t even wait for a response, lifting your hips and loosening his belt and unbuttoning the buttons of his jeans. With his help you drag his pants down but only so much that you are able to pull his throbbing cock out of the confines that are his blue boxers and you can see a huge dark spot where pre cum leaked, making you look at Joel chuckling „You really want it huh? Daddy” with a sweet lilt that makes his dick Twitch in your hands.

He just groans “Baby Moon if ya don’t sit down on my cock right now I’ll do it myself and I won’t give ya time to adjust.” He threatens but it really only turns you on more.

You peer up at the clock and see that you only have about 15 minutes left.

You take your original position and when his warm length slips through your moist folds his pre cum mixing with your own juices to create an addicting squelching sound.

At this point the dark hair nestling at the base of his cock and his happy trail are completely soaked.

“Gosh, Sweetheart she’s gushing all over me, put it in. She wants my cock don’t keep her waitin” you love when he talks in this way about your cunt, makes you wetter if that’s even possible.

You lift up a bit again and take hold of his length with one hand, the other on his chest to stabilize yourself. Dragging his leaking head through your glossy folds before lining him up with your gushing opening. You take one deep inhale cuz you know it’ll be a stretch even with how often you've done this.

Before sinking down on him you look at him there’s guilt somewhere deep in your conscience but you shake your head, you ain’t backing out now.

You slowly start to sink down when Joel decides it’s not quick enough so he grips your hips and in one swift fast motion sheets his huge dick inside your tight cunt.

“Ahhh..-ah J-Joel what the fuck” you hiss slapping his chest hard for being so impatient.

He huffs “Sorry Baby but Daddy has waited long enough for Her, just shush.” He actually has the audacity to shush you.

You get used to the feeling of being so filled to the brim and slide back & forth for a moment.

Then you put your feet down flat on the couch and grip the headrest behind him before starting to fuck him in earnest. Up and down at first slowly but steadily you get quicker and harder. Joel can’t even speak unless you count his obnoxiously loud moaning and growling.

“Yeah how you like that old man, hmm Daddy you're all quiet this pussy shut you up good, huh?” You wonder and out of nowhere one of Joel’s big hands grips your throat making you slow your movements to a minimum. He pulls your face toward his and grunts “Baby Moon ya need to be put in your place, ya bratty ass is treading on some mighty thin ice.”

He gives you one hard peck and then shoves your face in his neck. You don’t complain, you love when he’s so rough with you and his musky masculine smell is your favorite.

Joel pulls his legs up and plants his feet on the couch just like you did and then he starts to relentlessly push up into you at an alarming speed so hard that if it weren’t for the arm pinning you to his chest you’d fall off.

“Jo-Joel….Joel it’s so good ah…don’t stop” you babble in his ear and opposite to his harsh pounding he soothes “Shhh Baby I know, I know it’s so much for ya and Her. But listen to how much she’s enjoying it.”

And he’s right besides the obscene “plap, plap, plap” of skin hitting skin you can hear the wet squelching from the place you're both connected. “I’m close baby, where?” He asks while slipping a hand between your bodies to touch your neglected clit and immediately your whiny moans get even louder “I-in…inside Daddy. Pleaseee cum inside me.”

You beg and he loves that “Hmm yeah, ya wanna be filled up Baby?” He questions “God yes Daddy fill me up, please pleasee” you want nothing more than to feel him spill inside of you.

Seems that when Joel told you he was kinda deaf in his right ear it wasn’t a lie or maybe the plan of making him so desperate to fuck you that he won’t hear the door unlocking worked out.

But you can hear the slight clicking and the closing of the door. Unlike what you expect she does not start screaming, no, she’s eerily quiet. Perhaps it’s due to not having realized who exactly you're screwing as if there’s no tomorrow or simple shock.

Joel under you seems to have reached his end and without any preamble he starts shooting his warm cum deep inside your tight hole. The warm sensation combined with his unrelenting rubbing your clit pushes you over the finish line too. With that you pull up from his neck and drag him up as well, crossing your arms around his neck and kissing him.

You know she is right there at the threshold, you don’t care and to rub it in even more you say “Thank you Daddy, I love you.” And as if he knows his role Joel answers “I love you too little Moon.”

And that might have been the final straw, she speaks up and it flips out into incoherent screaming. Joel is immediately startled; he lightly pushes you off, quickly tugging himself back into his jeans and getting up to explain. You however get up slowly and put your top and skirt back on.

With the lack of panties you can feel his spend leaking out of you and you’re sure there’s very evident stains on Joel’s jeans that your mother must see.

The back and forth they must be having doesn’t even register to you. The blissful buzzing from the orgasm and the satisfaction of having succeeded in hurting her are making you all dozzy.

But then she comes charging at you screaming in your face “You’re smiling, you think this is funny??? I knew you were a bitch who only ruins everything, you are a worthless piece of shit a absolute waste of space” she’s so hysterical but you don’t care, it’s good she’s showing her true colors for Joel to see.

She continues “You are disgraceful and shameful for the entire family. I want you out of the house now. You are dead to me.” She probably thinks those words could hurt but it’s nothing compared to all the horrible things she did in the past. You just smirk at her nodding which infuriates her more than any comeback could.

With that you slip past her, Joel looks completely stunned by what just unfolded before his eyes. You don’t acknowledge him much, quickly skipping up the stairs,entering your room, grabbing a suitcase and filling it with the most important items. Then shuffling out of your room locking it behind you. You heave the suitcase down the stairs, no sign of Joel all you can hear is her crying in the living room, it amuses you, not an ounce of sympathy left for her. You don’t bother saying bye just open the front door and out you are.

The surprise is waiting in front of the house, Joel, he didn’t leave but instead waited for you.

He looks at you “Did it mean anything to you at all, or was it just a big joke?” He doesn’t look hurt, just confused. You close the distance between him and you “I wish it wouldn’t but it’s not possible to not feel anything, look at you Joel you’re a so beautiful so caring of course I fell for you.” He nods and takes your suitcase out of your hand. “Wh..what are you doing ?” You question “I’m taking ya home Moon, think I’d let you run around these streets? Get in the car” he urges.

And you do, when he drives off you don’t look back once.

Npt: @joelmillerisapunk @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @joelslegalwhre @thundermartini @studioghibelli @sizzlingcloudmentality @vivian-pascal @strang3lov3 @xdaddysprincessxx @mountainsandmayhem @mrsmando @joelsgreys @janaispunk @sizzlingcloudmentality @the-mandawhor1an @clawdee @penvisions 🩶

Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI, thank you 🙏🏻

[zarameraki]

˖°🕷️ ࣪𖤐 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗽-𝗳𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼𝗷𝗶 ˖°🕷️𖤐

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 unprotected sex 𖥔 step-father x step-daughter 𖥔 porn with plot 𖥔 banter 𖥔 dom daddy and his little girl 𖥔 neck kissing 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 praise 𖥔 bj 𖥔 biting 𖥔 nipple play 𖥔 daddy issues 𖥔 dirty talking 𖥔 small pillow talk 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut

: ̗̀➛ words: 4.0k

: ̗̀➛ notes: ok look, i was ovulating and i had to write this for some reason. i even wrote a nanami one (but he's your step-uncle). my mind was in the gutter and i wanted to challenge myself to something super taboo. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

Here you were, standing on a worn-out welcome mat, staring at the door of your ex-stepfather’s house.

It’s surreal.

A month ago, when your mom dropped the bomb about their divorce, you felt like your world was crumbling. Part of you felt relieved, like you could finally breathe without suffocating under their constant tension. And the other part? Well, it felt like a piece of you was being ripped away.

Last week, when the papers were finalized, making it official that they were done, you locked yourself in your room. The silence was deafening, and you couldn’t shake off that nagging feeling of missing him. Missing Toji. It’s ridiculous, right? He’s not your step dad anymore. He’s just some guy now. Too old, too wrong, too different.

You should just turn around and leave, forget about all this.

But you couldn’t.

Not today.

Not when you’re clutching your hard-earned bachelor’s degree, wearing a stupid graduation gown that felt like a costume. He didn’t bother showing up for your biggest achievement, just like your mother. She was always occupied with her own life to care about you. You were just an accident, a spill on her pile of kitchen table bills. 

Toji, though, he was different. He actually paid attention, listened to you, cared about what you had to say. Maybe you’re being stupid for wanting to talk to him, to pour out everything that’s been eating you up for months. But you needed to do this, for yourself, even if it meant facing the reality that he’s not part of your life anymore.

So, you’d driven straight to his residence building, skipping the after parties with your friends. You were twenty-two for fuck’s sake. If you wanted to spend the night celebrating with your step-dad, then that’s exactly what you were going to do. 

Enough was enough. 

Your trembling finger hovered over the doorbell, each second feeling like an eternity. The sharp pricks of anxiety danced on your palms, and the weight on your shoulders threatened to crush you. But you couldn’t turn back now.

The ache in your chest demanded resolution, an answer to the haunting question that had plagued you since your mother first brought him into your life: Do I want to fuck my step-dad? 

Yes. Yes, you very much did. 

The clicks of the lock rattled and the door knob twisted clockwise. 

Toji stood in the doorway, his presence dominating the space as if he had devoured the entire door frame. His twelve abdomen muscles rippled, stark against his skin. Jet-black hair clung wetly to his forehead, partially obscuring his eyes. With sweatpants slung low on his hips, a tantalizing trail of hair led downward, drawing attention to the area you often found yourself fantasizing about.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath, realization dawning. “It was today, wasn’t it?”

“You’re such an ass,” you spat out, your body trembling with a mix of emotions—his forgetfulness, his proximity to you, the sheer presence of him. But at this moment, all your focus was on the pain of him abandoning you after promising he’d be there. “I was completely alone, Toji. Do you even understand how embarrassing it was to stand there by myself while everyone else had their families?”

“Sweetheart—”

“No. No, you don’t get to call me that. You don’t—You made me a promise, Toji. You swore you’d be there for me.”

“I know,” he murmured, running his hand down his face. “I’m sorry, kid. Come here.” He grasped your wrist and drew you towards him, enveloping you in a tight embrace. His strong arms wrapped around your body, reminiscent of the times he used to challenge you by having you sit on his back during push-ups to prove you wrong about being too heavy for him. “Better?”

“No,” you grumbled, resting your cheek against his chest. He had the scent of spruce and cigarettes that you found strangely comforting. What you wouldn’t do to sleep on his chest for hours, days and weeks. “Toji, I . . . I want to talk to you about something.” 

“What is it?” he asked, stepping back. 

“Can we sit down first?” 

He grinned. “Of course, baby.” 

With a shy smile of your own, you took his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch as he led you towards the plush couch at the center of the room. Memories of previous visits with your mother flashed briefly in your mind, but they were quickly replaced by the present moment.

The apartment’s decor was simple yet masculine, with red-brick walls lending a rustic charm. A mounted television, a large couch, and a hanging boxing bag added character to the space. The kitchen, though small, was designed in an L-shape, showcasing Toji’s dedication to fitness with his assortment of protein powders and supplements neatly arranged.

As you both settled onto the couch, Toji relaxed back, spreading out his legs and placing his arms on the backrest. His gaze lingered on you as you gracefully removed your graduation gown and placed your degree on his coffee table. 

“Your mother allowed you to wear that?” His thumb traced the curve of his lower lip as his gaze roamed shamelessly over you.

The gown you had on was a sleek, satin creation with a daring thigh-high slit. Its fabric was delicate, featuring thin straps and a plunging cleavage that barely contained your breasts. It was no secret that you had chosen it with Toji in mind, especially since your mother had been “too busy” to accompany you on your shopping trip.

“She doesn’t control my wardrobe,” you replied, your voice laced with confidence as you settled beside him. One leg tucked beneath you, the other languidly extended, the slit in your dress showcasing the smoothness of your skin. Toji’s gaze followed the line of exposed flesh before meeting your eyes. “Besides, you shouldn’t be the one to talk.” 

His smirk widened when you pointed out his lack of a shirt. “My house, my rules.”

You changed the subject. “Care to explain why you missed my graduation?”

“Work,” he replied shortly.

“Is that so?”

“I got a last-minute call for a match. The prize money was going to cover the next three months’ rent.” Toji was a professional MMA fighter. You had once attended one of his matches for ten minutes before almost passing out from witnessing how brutally he defeated his opponent. His persona in the ring was a juxtaposition to the sarcastic yet caring man he was at home with you.

“Did you win?” you asked, absently twirling the bracelet he had given you for your twenty-first birthday.

“Yeah,” he replied, his tone carrying a hint of pride. “I won.”

“Good.” You lifted your gaze to meet his, only to find his eyes fixed on you. “Do you miss home?”

“I am home.”

“You know what I mean.”

He took a deep breath, gazing at the blank television screen. Tilting his head back towards you, he wore a lopsided grin. “I miss you. Does that count?”

Your insides turned to jelly at his words, but you refused to let yourself falter, refusing to become the shy, sweet girl you once were, despite the depraved and forbidden reel playing in your mind. 

You missed watching television with your head on his lap. You missed cooking together. You missed doing the dishes afterward. You missed joining him on walks and runs just to spend a little extra time together. You missed dragging him to malls with you and trying on clothes, posing as sexily as you could, but obviously, he didn’t understand the signals. He never did. Even if you’d spend more time with him than your own mother. 

Silence ensued around you, only the subtle sounds of your choppy breaths and his composed ones were heard. 

“Why are you here, kid?” Toji’s gruff voice cut through the air.

“To see you.” 

“Why are you here?” 

You held your breath tightly in your chest. “I wanted to talk.” 

“About?” He was quick with the question, as if he knew what you were about to say, but wanted to hear it from your lips. Lips that he couldn’t pull his eyes away from. “Talk to me.” 

“I—” You felt a knot form in your throat. “I wanted to check up—”

“Bullshit.” 

Yeah, bullshit. 

What were you scared of? This was the man who cut up fruits for you when you were mentally deprived from crunching for your exams. This was the man who put a blanket on you if you fell asleep reading, even giving a kiss to your crown. This was the man who treated you like you were his own daughter, when in reality, you never were. And he never outwardly called you his daughter, either. You didn’t know why you never saw him as a father figure, but rather, you called him a friend. A really good friend. A friend you’d fallen stupidly in love with over the course of six months. 

Toji snapped his fingers in front of your face. You blinked out of the whirlpool of your thoughts. “Where’d you go?” 

“To you.” 

He lifted a brow. “To me?” 

Now or never, Y/N. Now or fucking never. 

You knelt down and moved closer, settling yourself onto his lap. His eyes widened momentarily at your boldness. “Toji, I like you. Hell, I love you. I love every version of the man you’ve been in my life. I know—I know you love me, too. Probably not in the way I want you to, but a girl can hope.” Your words were directed at the dog tag hanging from his neck as you gently placed your hands on his chest. “I did come here to scold you for not attending my graduation, but I also wanted to . . . I wanted to be with you. In more ways than one.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talk—”

“I do,” you stated firmly. Your lashes lifted and found his narrowed scrutiny. Unconsciously, his hands rested on your waist, molding to your curves. “I’ve known for a while now. It didn’t click in until you moved out. I swear Toji, it was like I couldn’t breathe without you.” 

“Baby . . . ” 

“I want you,” you confessed in a hushed tone, your fingers tracing the lines of his broad shoulders, then up to the sturdy column of his neck where his pulsing veins hinted at his emotions. “I know I seem desperate, but I don’t care. You’re not hers anymore. You were never hers.” 

“Y/N—”

“Please, Toji. Please, just touch me.” You tilted your head to plant a tender kiss on the sharp angle of his jawline. His faint stubble grazed against your lips as you continued to pepper kisses, stopping just short of his mouth. “Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest, they say.”

Toji tightly shut his eyes and took slow breaths through his nose, his inner turmoil evident in the way his head moved back and forth. Your lips traced gentle paths around his face, savoring the closeness and the rush of emotions it brought. Even if he rejected you, you would find solace in knowing you had expressed your love for the man who was once your stepfather. This night might mark the end of your time together, but it also freed you from the burden of hiding your feelings.. 

“Baby,” Toji whispered, gently caressing your cheek as he drew you closer. “You sure you want this?” 

“Yes.” 

“You know how risky this is, kid. We can’t just ignore the consequences.” 

“I know, Toji.” You leaned closer, your breath mingling with his. “But I can’t ignore how I feel about you either. I want this. I want you. I want all of you. You can do whatever you want to me. I promise I can take it.” 

Toji licked his lips and ran his fingers through his hair. “Fuck. Okay. Your mom—”

“She won’t know. I’m planning on moving out soon.” You dragged your hand up and down his soft, bare chest. “I should’ve moved out with you.” 

Toji took your hand in his and pressed a tender kiss to the center of your palm. “I don’t think I have any condoms on me.” 

“I’m on the pill.” 

His eyes narrowed on you. “You’ve been fucking around? Does your mom know?” 

“Hey, I had to have a little fun. Gain a little experience for this inevitable night.” Your infectious smile rubbed off on him and he enveloped you in his arms. 

“I fuck hard.” 

“Good.” 

“Last chance.” 

“Nope.” 

Toji rose on his feet, supporting your bottom with his hands as he took you to his bedroom. He laid you down on his bed, the soft mattress absorbing the weight with a slight bounce. “Fucking knew you had a little crush on me.” He clambered onto your body and held your jaw with his hand. “Tell me, sweetheart, did you touch yourself thinking of me?” 

“Every single night. Whether it’s in the shower or my bedroom,” you replied, feigning a pout and raising your hand. “I’m starting to think I’ve developed carpal tunnel from all of it.”

Toji laughed, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face with his calloused fingers. But as his laughter faded into a knowing smirk, his next words sent a jolt through you, leaving your legs weak and your heart racing. “Yeah. Me, too.” 

“Really?” 

He answered by colliding his lips against yours. It was a brutal kiss. Pain and pleasure mingled together in a heated embrace. His tongue shoved deep into your mouth, exploring the source of your daring words. 

Pulling away momentarily, he squeezed your cheeks and sucked on your tongue like it was a delicious treat. “Gonna spit in your mouth.” 

“Mm-hmm.” 

Toji’s cheeks sucked in as he gathered his spit and spat it right onto your tongue. “Swallow.” 

You did, moaning as his warm saliva traveled down your throat. “You taste minty.”

“I was just about to crash before your demanding ass showed up,” he teased.

“Well, you should thank me then.” You planted a quick kiss on his nose.

Toji leaned in and kissed you deeply, tugging on your bottom lip and trailing his moist lips down to your neck. “You smell so good, baby.” 

“I’m wearing the perfume you bought me.” 

“You better fucking be. Do you know how much I get off on spoiling you?” His teeth bit your delicate flesh and pulled, making you whimper from the stinging pain. He sucked and bit on different areas of your neck, marking you with his love bites. He then helped you out of the dress and pressed you back on the mattress. “Knew you weren’t wearing a bra.” 

“No,” you said sarcastically. 

“Yeah,” he said, missing the teasing in your voice, “your nipples were in my face when we were talking.” He rounded his tongue around your areola. Gathering your breasts in both hands, Toji switched between suckling at your nipples, biting the sensitive bud that sent jerks in your body, and licking the burning pain. “I saw you undressing once. You know that?” 

You lifted a brow. “Uh, when?” And why didn't he do anything about it?

“You left your bedroom a bit open. I came to call you for dinner and instead feasted on the sight of your perky ass and these sexy tits.” He left your nipples numb and discolored from his teeth’s abuse. “You think you’re the only one who got off in that house? No, baby. Not at all. I was in the room right next to you, jerking off to your voice, or your smell.” This time, he kissed you gently and then each of your shoulders. “I had it worse. I had it so much worse.” 

“Toji . . . ”

“But you’re here now, and so am I. I’m not fucking leaving. You got that? You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.” 

“Yours,” you whispered. “God, Toji, I’m yours. I’m yours.” 

Toji removed his sweatpants and boxers, giving you a glorious display of his long, thick cock, corded with veins, sprouted up and proud. You had him like that, and so you gave yourself a mental pat on the back. “Like what you see?” 

“Yes,” you said, chuckling in disbelief at the anatomy of him. A surge of confidence washed over you. You slipped off your panties and spread out your legs, shaking your hair back from your face. “Like what you see?” 

Toji gleamed at the wetness pooled between your legs, soaking his sheets underneath, sticky and hot. Something feral rattled inside him. He gripped your knees and pried them farther apart, sinking in between. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck! Toji—ah!” Your back arched in ecstasy, fingers gripping his scalp as he ruthlessly ate you out. His large palm held your hips in place, nibbling and sucking at your quivering, swollen clit. “Toji, yes, yes, fuck. Right there. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

You grinded against him with full power, pushing your pussy closer to his mouth. He drank your leaking juices, drove his skilled tongue into your tight entrance, and discovered the sweet, cry-worthy spots inside you.

Soon, he replaced his tongue with three fingers, plunging them deep inside you with a rough and unrelenting pace that sent shivers down your spine. His deep growls were the icing on top. 

Tears streamed down your cheeks as the bed creaked beneath you. He was exorcising your damn soul out of your body with his holy tongue and his blessed fingers.

“Ah!” You came down like a fucking waterfall and Toji stood with an open mouth, drinking in your essence, lapping at your cunt like a starved dog, cleaning you as best as he could. 

You gasped for air, clutching your chest as you coughed or laughed or wheezed—hard to tell which. You felt weightless, incredibly sore, teetering on the edge of passing out.

“Toji . . . am I dead?”

His laughter echoed nearby, then drew nearer until his face came into focus through your haze. “Your pussy tastes just as delicious as your mouth, baby.” 

He kissed you and gave you a hint of your release. Toji was a moaner—a loud one—as he sucked on your tongue, pulling it into his mouth. Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull as he spit onto your tongue again, and ran his own coarse one over your palette.

You closed your mouth and pushed him back by his shoulders. “Let me touch you.” 

“Yeah? You want to suck me off, too?” 

“Yes, fuck. Please, Toji. Please let me suck your cock.” Your begging made him grunt as he got up on his knees. He moved closer, placing them firmly beside your hips. You sat up against the headboard, gripping his warm, aroused cock, while he entwined your hair around his hand, gaining control over your movements.

You looked up at his smirk and kissed his moist tip, savoring the salty taste. Goosebumps formed on your skin at the idea of taking him deeper into your mouth. It would definitely challenge your gag reflex, but if this was going to be a regular thing, you needed to practice.

“Part your lips for me, kid. Nice and wide. That’s it.”

“Yes, Daddy.” You winked at Toji’s alarmed expression. Oh, how you loved catching him off-guard by acting out of character. “You got a daddy kink, Toji?” You brushed your lips from the base to the head, swirling your tongue around the rim. “Since you love calling me kid, maybe I should start calling you daddy. Isn’t that what you were?” 

“You got a dirty mouth on you, kid.” 

“Learned it from my daddy.”  

Toji hissed through his teeth as you nibbled his tip. “Not dirty enough.” He gripped his length and forced it past your lips. Your nails plunged into his hips, gagging and shaking as he sunk past your uvula. “About time I fucked your smartass mouth with my cock, baby. Be a good girl and don’t tap out until I’ve come down your throat.” 

You closed your eyes briefly, gathering your resolve before meeting his gaze again with a playful glint. You weren’t entirely sure where this was going, but you were determined not to back down now. So, with a mischievous wink, you silently accepted the challenge.

Toji thrusted his hips back and forth, shoving his girth in and out without giving you space to breathe.

“That’s it, baby. That’s it. Fuck, you’re so good at sucking your daddy’s cock,” he groaned, his hands gently gripping your hair or caressing your cheek in a way that contrasted sharply with his dominant actions.

“My pretty whore.”

Thrust.

“My gorgeous girl.” 

Thrust.

“You belong to me, baby.” 

Thrust, thrust, thrust. 

He was a complete monster with you. 

Your face pressed against his pelvis, the brush of his happy trail tickling your nose. You knew from experience that most men came quicker if you fondled their balls. You squeezed his heavy, swollen sacs, making him hiss and violate your throat.

Toji couldn’t hold back. His release came with a roar, numbing your scalp from how tightly he was pulling on it. The thin ropes of his release and your saliva formed as he pulled out. You swallowed whatever was left around your mouth. To please him further, as if assaulting your throat wasn’t enough, you lapped at his tip like a devoted kitten. “You’re so good to me, baby.” 

That’s all you wanted to hear. 

“Turn around,” he commanded, and without hesitation, you dropped to your knees, arching your back to present yourself to him. “What a sight.” His hand glided over your left ass cheek tenderly before delivering a firm smack that made you jolt forward. Toji mirrored the action on your right cheek, preparing you while coating the tip of his cock with slickness from your own arousal. “Gonna put it in now, sweetheart.” 

“Finally, Jesus.” 

Toji spanked your ass which only elicited a giggle out of you. “Let’s see if you’ll be laughing soon, baby.” 

He pushed into you in one-quick go. 

You cried out and grabbed the top of the headboard with your sweaty palms. He pulled out just to the hilt then drove back in. The air smelled like your sweat and perfume and sex. Every nerve in your body was alive, your heart pounding fiercely as if trying to escape your chest. Your face flushed with heat, your blood singing with desire.

You moaned and cried and screamed his name, driving him to complete madness with the word “Daddy.” You begged him to go faster, push harder, to have you sore for weeks so you didn’t have to get out of his bed, out of his arms, out of his home. You wanted this to be your home. 

Toji spanked your ass repeatedly, skin slapping against skin, palming the back of your head so that your face was crushed on his pillow. It smelled like firewood. Smelled like him. You wanted to steal it, take it home, sleep with it, ride it while whispering his name. 

You both came together. 

Toji’s hot seed filled your stretched hole. He withdrew slowly, a teasing sensation that left you craving more. With deft fingers, he ensured not a drop was wasted. 

You collapsed onto your stomach, catching your breath before summoning the strength to turn and face him.

He exhaled heavily, laying beside you “Fuck, that was . . .” 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh, yeah.” 

“Best yeah.” You draped yourself onto his chest and kissed his chin. He massaged his fingers through your throbbing scalp, the other hand caressing your numb, bruised ass. 

Toji twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “Does this make-up for missing your graduation?” 

You flicked his forehead. “I haven’t forgiven you for that.” 

“Maybe I should miss more of your events if this is the reward I’m gonna get.” 

You scowled. “I dare you to repeat that again.” 

Toji ironed out your scowl with his thumb. You kissed the pad of his rough finger, twice. “My cards are on the table for you, sweetheart.” 

Your lips met his, whispering, “I folded a while ago, Daddy.” 

“Fuck,” he breathed out. With a swift motion, he flipped you onto your back, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Round two, kid.” 

[wintrwinchestr]

strangers | part 1

summary: following in the footsteps of a girl you once knew, you decide to up and leave home one morning without looking back. when you find yourself to be tired, hungry, and alone in the middle of nowhere, you're thankful when a kind stranger offers you a ride, a warm meal, and a place to sleep for the night. he only tells you about himself in bits and pieces, but he seems trustworthy enough, and what you don't know can't hurt you, right?

!!PLEASE READ WARNINGS, THIS IS A VERY DARK FIC!!

I've tried to label this fic as detailed and as boldly as possible. I will not be held responsible or bullied off the internet if you choose to read this potentially upsetting/triggering work of fiction anyway.

warnings: joel miller x f!reader, 18+, smut, age gap (reader is college-aged, joel is mid-50s), no outbreak au, serial killer!joel, dark!joel, talk of death/murder and blood, mommy & daddy issues, brief talk of domestic violence, lying/gaslighting, manipulation, f-receiving non-con somnophilia (no sex, but groping, fingering, dry humping, kissing, and choking), degrading language toward victims, pet names (baby, darlin', sweetheart), some joel pov, no ellie/sarah but tommy has an unnamed daughter, somewhat inspired by "strangers" by ethel cain, takes place in illinois/ohio/indiana, vaguely set in the 70s/80s, this part is mostly introduction/storytelling/yapping, please respectfully let me know if i missed anything and i will rectify the tags

word count: 9.8k

a/n: i started this as a oneshot way back in november, and then it sat abandoned for a very long time. thank you to my lovely friends @polaroidpascal and @chippedowlmug for encouraging me to finish it, and also bestie kiers who never hesitates to match my freak. also thank you to the many writers who made me feel inspired to write something dark and not give a fuck what people think about it. i hope you enjoy this joel he's a freak and i love him and if you say anything mean about him i'll send him after you <3

divider by @saradika

series masterlist/moodboard

read this chapter on ao3

part 2

Ruby Carpenter.

You had spent all day trying to remember her name without really knowing why. Maybe it’s because as the sun sets on what would be the first day of your junior year at the nearby state school, you wonder if she ever made it to one of the fancy ivy leagues she had always aspired to attend. You wonder if she’s even still alive.

Ruby had disappeared a few years ago now, the summer after your senior year of high school. For nearly a year afterwards, her missing posters remained stapled onto every telephone pole and stuck onto every store window around town, until the paper began to disintegrate and the ink began to fade. In that time, you couldn’t even make a quick run to the grocery store without being confronted by dozens of replicas of her yearbook photo printed onto the sides of all the milk cartons. Despite all of the efforts to find her, including several search parties and a decent amount of statewide media coverage, everyone had just stopped looking for her, eventually. Even the police. Even her parents.

It was decided that she had probably just run away, and you can’t entirely blame her, but you can’t imagine why she would, either. You remember her perfect head of blonde ringlet curls that shone a yellow gold in the sun, and her bright blue eyes that turned fiery in her more passionate moments during classroom debates. She had every boy in your grade wrapped around her finger, was the teacher’s pet in every class, and it wasn’t even a question whether she would win prom queen your senior year. She was always sweet to you, always complimented your outfits or your makeup or your art projects with a genuine lilt in her voice and a kind smile, so you could never bring yourself to hate her even though it would’ve been so easy to. You figured she was going to cure cancer or become the president after you had all graduated, which is why you never really stopped wondering whatever happened to her that summer. She was beautiful, with boundless potential and a bright future ahead of her, why would she have just given it all up?

Everyone around town knew Ruby, or at least it seemed that way. But maybe nobody ever really knew her as well as they thought. Maybe she’d had a secret boyfriend all that time who whisked her away that summer, maybe she had decided to try drugs and fell down a rabbit hole that she couldn’t claw her way out of, maybe she had finally figured out that the only thing this town would ever be good for is holding people back. Maybe she did just wake up one day and decide to run without ever looking behind her.

Maybe you should do the same.

With your dad long gone now and your step-father doing a piss poor job of filling in the hole he left, following in Ruby’s footsteps has sounded like a better idea with each passing day. Rob isn’t even really your step-father, anyway, just your mom’s sorry fucking excuse for a boyfriend. The guy’s already been married upwards of three times before, why try for another one? He’s a lazy son of a bitch who can’t hold down a job at a fast food joint for more than a couple of weeks at a time, who sleeps every second of the day that he’s not chugging through a six pack, and who leaves marks on your mother uglier than his fucking face. 

She doesn’t deserve to be treated that way, of course, but it’s not like she’s winning the “mom of the year” award any time soon, either. She’s never even been nominated. She’s forgotten just about every one of your birthdays, been the reason you’ve never had any friends come over, and in her most recent offense, blew all the savings you had put away for your last two years of college. Which is why you’re not spending tonight celebrating being one year closer to at least having an official-looking piece of paper to show for yourself. Instead, you’re using the rattling of your bedroom window unit and the booming bass of your radio to drown out yet another drunken screaming match between your mother and the guy she lets live in your house now, watching the world outside pass you by and knowing that if you don’t do anything about it now, you’ll never make it out of here. You’re thinking about Ruby Carpenter, hoping she found somewhere greener and more promising and was able to make something of herself, far away from here. And you’re thinking that this rusted orange sunset is the last one you’ll ever see from your bedroom window.

It’s decided, then. You’re leaving, first thing tomorrow.

—

You’ve only gotten a few hours of sleep by the time your alarm clock chimes to life at five o’clock on the dot. You’re quick to silence the shrill beeping with a swift swat of your hand, careful not to wake anyone else in the house. The sun has just barely begun to stream in through the blinds of your bedroom window, but it illuminates the room just enough for your eyes to land on the backpack you had stuffed full of a few changes of clothes last night, waiting for you by the door. 

You don’t waste any time stripping off your pajamas and pulling on just about the only clothes left in your room that aren’t in your bag. You’ve got your teeth brushed, face washed, and hair tamed in all of about ten minutes, too anxious to spend even one more unnecessary second in this house. You swing your backpack over your shoulder, pull your bedroom door open at just the right speed so that the hinges don’t squeak too loud, and tiptoe delicately down the stairs, careful to avoid the creaky floorboards that you know like the back of your hand—the one three steps from the top, the one at the landing about halfway down, and the very bottom one.

You land softly when you leap over that tattletale bottom step, successful in the most difficult part of your escape plan so far. Rob is passed out on the living room couch in typical fashion, his mouth full of crooked teeth hanging open as his grating snores permeate the calm morning air. He’s still got a death grip around an empty beer can, even in his sleep, and your mother will likely be the one to toss it into the trash for him, useless fucker that he is. You aren’t going to miss either of them, and you imagine they’ll just skip trying to replicate the first half of the aftermath of Ruby’s disappearance altogether—no posters, no search parties, no police. You’ll just be gone, one less mouth for your mother to feed. Though, you’d been mostly feeding yourself since you were tall enough to slide a couple of bills across the counter at the corner store down the street, anyway. You’re ready to disappear, the same as candle wax when it burns, the same as the end of a rainbow, the same as Ruby Carpenter.

You don’t bother looking back when you shut the door behind you, content to leave it all behind just as the sun begins to rise and set the sky ablaze. By the time it sets again tonight, you hope to be in a different county, in a different state, anywhere that isn’t here. The rest, you’ll just have to figure out when you get there, wherever “there” may be.

—

You had only realized about an hour ago that you’d forgotten your cheap digital watch in the drawer of your bedside table, where it’s laid unused for the past couple of months, because who needs to tell time during the summer? You never had anywhere to be, never had to get to class or turn in a paper by a certain time, so it’s just been collecting dust since you had unclipped it from your wrist on the last day of spring semester. It sure would have come in handy right about now, when you have no fucking clue what time it is. The sun had disappeared behind the hills several mile markers back, so it must be… eight o’clock? Ten o’clock? Fucking midnight? You have no idea. What you do know is that you’re exhausted, hungry, and your feet hurt like hell. You aren’t really sure what you expected, the reality only just now setting in that you don’t even have ten bucks to your name anymore, thanks to your narcissist of a mother. The crumpled up bills you do have in your pocket are hardly enough for a goddamn sandwich, let alone a motel room. The cool night breeze raises goosebumps on your skin, and you swear you can see your fucking breath, even in the middle of August. You wrap your arms around yourself just as tears begin to prick at your waterlines, and you let them fall as you collapse onto the scratchy patch of dead grass on the side of the freeway, not a park bench or a bus stop or even a gas station in sight for God knows how many more miles.

You sit cross-legged, elbows propped up on your knees so that your hands can support your weary head, the skin of your palms becoming slippery with salty tears as your crying just doesn’t seem to stop. The road you’ve found yourself on seems relatively low-trafficked, the heaving sounds of your sobs accompanied by more cricket chirps and rustling wheat than rumbling tires. But a few high beams do streak across your vision every once in a while, coloring the backs of your eyelids a flaming scarlet.

After several minutes, your tears seem to dry up on their own, your body likely too dehydrated now to produce any more. You wipe the moisture from under your eyes with the back of your hand, sniffling as you gnaw at the skin of your bottom lip and debate if you should just turn back now, give up on your stupid little plan (or lack thereof) and just call the whole thing a loss, pretend it never even happened. Your mother and Rob won’t have even noticed you’d left.

Just as you pull yourself back up to your feet, set on at least finding somewhere that isn’t the hard ground to sleep on tonight before you make your way back home tomorrow, the warm headlights of an old pickup truck are shining bright in your eyes. You put your arm up to block them as the truck slowly squeals to a halt in front of where you’re standing, and you squint your eyes at the driver as your vision adjusts.

“You need a ride, sweetheart?” A man asks in a gravelly voice, and you can still hardly make out what he looks like. Based on the southern accent you pick up on, he doesn’t sound like he’s from around here. 

“N-no, thank you. I’m okay,” you respond shakily, taking a nervous step back from the stranger and his rusted pickup.

“You sure? Looked like you were cryin’ over here, like you might be lost or somethin’.”

“‘M not lost, I know where I’m going.”

“Oh yeah? Where’s that?”

Shit. 

You take a guess.

“Um… the motel down the road,” you reply, tilting your head in the direction you had been walking in.

“There ain’t a motel down there, sweetheart. Ain’t nothin’ in either direction for miles, ‘s all just farmland out here. Reckon you’ve already figured that out, though.”

You pause, unsure of what your next move should be. He knows you’re lying, knows you’re alone with no fucking idea where you are or where you’re going. You could run, but even that shitty truck of his could catch up to you in a matter of seconds. You take another step back, swiveling your head around to look up and down the road as you try to figure your best way out of this.

“Just lemme give you a ride somewhere, darlin’. There’s a diner just off the exit, ‘bout twenty miles up ahead. Could take you that far, at least, get you somethin’ to eat,” he offers. A warm meal does sound pretty good right now, and you suppose you aren’t exactly in a position to refuse his help.

You think on it for a second. “What’s it called? The diner.”

The stranger huffs. “Moody’s.”

“What do they have?” you challenge.

He sighs. “It’s a fuckin’ diner off the side of the freeway, darlin’. They got greasy food and black coffee, ‘s about all you need.”

You don’t say anything.

Then, after a beat—“They got some kinda sloppy mess they call the Thunder Burger. ‘S got onion rings and shit on it. Ain’t half bad.”

You have to admit, he’s passing your pop quiz with flying colors. His answers have been too quick, too specific for him to be lying to you. There’s a pretty solid chance this diner does exist, and that he’s been there before. The man hasn’t said anything that’s indicated he wants more to do with you than to offer you a ride and some dinner. He’s probably just somebody’s harmless grandfather, anyway, judging by his motheaten flannel and gray-stricken beard you can see now that you’ve approached his truck a few paces closer.

“Okay,” you concede, your stomach growling loudly as the man leans over the bench seat to pop open the passenger side door for you. You shrug off your backpack and climb into the cabin, clicking your seatbelt into place as you situate yourself on the cracked leather seat. 

“All set?” the stranger asks.

“Mhm,” you hum, finally getting a better look at the man you might just owe the rest of your life to after tonight. For being somebody’s grandfather, he’s… kinda handsome. Really fucking handsome, actually, in a rugged sort of way. He’s got warm amber eyes that sparkle even in the dark of night, a kind smile that completely disarms you in an instant, and a splintering scar across the bridge of his nose that somehow only adds to his good looks. You try to suppress your own grin as you look away from him quickly, opting to focus on fidgeting with one of the fraying edges of your denim shorts instead. Even in your peripheral vision, you don’t miss how his eyes shift from your own to the exposed skin of your thighs. He doesn’t say anything, just clears his throat as he shifts gears and steers his truck back onto the road again. 

He lets the next few minutes pass in comfortable silence before asking, “You got a name, sweetheart?”

You tell him, and he flashes another charming smile at you. “I like that, ‘s pretty… Well, I’m Joel. Sure you were wonderin’. Now you ain’t gettin’ a ride from a stranger no more, are ya?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m not,” you giggle, and you’re surprised at how comfortable you feel with him. “So… you’ve been to Moody’s before?”

“Handful of times, yeah. When I’m passin’ through.”

You nod. “So you come up here, like… for work or somethin’?”

Joel chuckles. “Or somethin’. You never even heard of the damn place, so… reckon you don’t find yourself out here very often, do ya?”

“No… ‘M not even really sure where ‘here’ is, to be honest. I just kinda… started walking.”

“Ah… a runaway, then, are ya?” Joel asks, with an appreciated amount of understanding in his tone rather than judgment. “‘M sure your folks are missin’ ya right about now, must have your boyfriend worried sick.”

You scoff at that. “Fuck no. They probably don’t even know I’m gone, won’t even bother trying to come look for me. And I don’t have a boyfriend, so…”

“Damn shame. ‘M sorry about that, sweetheart,” Joel comforts, placing a large calloused hand on your thigh. It makes your breath hitch, but his touch isn’t entirely unwelcome. You let him squeeze once at the plush of your leg before he replaces his hand on the wheel, and your cunt spasms out a little fluttering pulse against the seam of your shorts, despite yourself.

The rest of the drive to Moody’s is relatively quiet, save for the gentle crooning of an old country singer emanating from the cassette player on the dash. The soft singing and steady strumming of a banjo combined with the muffled chugging of the truck’s engine is enough to lull you to sleep, especially after the day you’ve had. You know that just about every mental alarm bell you have should be screaming at you to jump out of the car, to run, that sleeping alone in the dirt would’ve been a better decision than getting into this strange man’s—Joel’s—truck, but you’re too tired to hear them. He smells good, like woodsmoke and pine and cinnamon, and if he wanted to do something awful to you, he probably would’ve done it by now. So you trust him, for now at least, and let your lashes fan out against your cheeks as your head falls back against the cushioned headrest, coaxed into sleep by the lullaby of tires against pavement and fingertips against guitar strings.

—

You only rouse when you feel the truck come to a stop about half an hour or so later, slowly blinking your eyes open against the bright neon sign that reads “MOODY’S” in bold capital letters. Your jaw stretches wide as a yawn overtakes the muscles, and you hear Joel’s southern drawl replace the one from the cassette as he shuts the engine off.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead. Not too tired to eat somethin’ now, are ya?”

Another unpleasant-sounding rumble from your empty stomach answers for you, loud enough for both of you to hear this time. The air puffing out of the diner’s kitchen smells strongly of fatty bacon and rich coffee, just like Joel had promised you the place would offer. Although the digital clock on the dash read just after 10:30 before you fell asleep, you’ve never craved breakfast quite like you do right now. You absentmindedly lick your lips as you imagine the sweet and savory—and more importantly free—meal that could be waiting for you beyond that blinding beacon of a sign.

“Well, alright then. Let’s get some food in ya before you keel over, hm?” Joel says as he exits the truck, landing on his feet in the dirt parking lot with a soft groan. He waits by the hood for you to meet up with him, and you walk up the couple of steps to the entrance together. He holds the door open for you, and you offer him a shy ‘thank you’, to which he responds with a soft spoken ‘welcome, sweetheart’. You stand shyly behind his broad form as he asks the hostess for a table for two, and she leads you to a green leather booth tucked into the corner of the diner. She hands each of you a sticky laminated menu, the pages a charming mess of clashing colors and faded pictures and retro-looking fonts, then departs with a promise that your waitress will bring the two of you some water as you take your time deciding on what you might like. 

You light up upon reading that Moody’s serves breakfast all day, and that they can make you exactly what you were hoping for—a stack of chocolate chip pancakes with sides of bacon and hashbrowns. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you wiggle in your seat, excitedly anticipating the waitress to come back around so you can order.

“Whatcha so excited about over there?” Joel asks, eyeing you from across the table as he glances up from his own menu.

“Nothin’, I was just hoping I could get some pancakes, and they have ‘em on the menu,” you explain giddily. “I’ll probably get some coffee, too, really complete the whole ‘breakfast for dinner’ thing.”

Joel huffs through his nose. “Decaf, I hope. ‘S the middle of the goddamn night, sweetheart. Gonna be bouncin’ off the walls in the room later, hardly get any sleep.”

He’s right, you suppose. But wait—“What room?”

Joel shrugs casually. “There’s a decent motel another exit or two down, figured they could probably get us a couple o’ beds for the night. But, ‘m sorry, shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No! No, it’s okay.”

Is it? You only met the man less than an hour ago, and you already agreed to let him give you a ride before you even knew his name. You suppose you hadn’t really thought about what would happen after he bought you dinner, but not thinking ahead seems to have been a theme today, hasn’t it? You remind yourself that he’s only been kind and respectful to you so far, save for that placement of his hand on your upper thigh soon after he picked you up. But that could’ve just been a friendly, paternal gesture, right? And he said a couple of beds, when he mentioned the motel, which seemed to imply that he plans on the two of you sleeping in separate beds, maybe even separate rooms. You’ve found yourself having to make yet another somewhat reckless decision tonight, but one that would be in your best interest to say ‘yes’ to, at this point. What other option would you have if you declined his offer?

“Don’t really have anywhere else to go, so… yeah, okay. Motel sounds good. And decaf it is, I guess.”

Joel’s apologetic expression quickly morphs into a satisfied smirk. “Good girl,” he praises. You like how the words sound coated in his thick drawl, even though you probably shouldn’t. You shift where you sit as that familiar fluttering sensation returns to the seat of your panties, just for a moment. You’re grateful that the waitress arrives at the booth not a second later, cheerily introducing herself as she sets down a glass of water for each of you. When she asks if you’re ready to order, Joel gestures to you as if to say ‘ladies first’, and you politely prattle off your request. You make sure to emphasize that you’d like your coffee decaf, and ask if she could please bring some more of the little cups of vanilla creamer to the table. “Not a problem, honey,” she replies, and Joel winks at you as she asks what she can get for him. He orders the Thunder Burger he had told you about earlier, and a black coffee, which he doesn’t request to be decaf. The waitress leaves the two of you alone again with an ‘I’ll have that right out for ya,’ and you let your eyes follow the calming baby blue color of her dress as she glides her way back to the kitchen. When she disappears around the corner of the bar, you take the opportunity to study Moody’s other patrons. There isn’t another young person in sight, mostly just men around Joel’s age with similarly heavy bags under their eyes, likely truck drivers indulging in their first hot meal of the day within the diner’s comforting wood-paneled walls. You wonder if that’s how Joel knows about this place, because he “passes through” this area on long hauls across the midwest. You open your mouth to ask him if your assumption is correct, but he cuts you off before you can say anything.

“I gotta admit, sweetheart, I’m curious… The hell was a pretty thing like you doin’ out in the middle of goddamn nowhere tonight? I mean, I know you’re a runaway ‘n all, but… shouldn’t you be one o’ those college party girls or somethin’? ‘M sure you got plenty of friends wonderin’ where you are.”

You sigh, shaking your head as you distractedly pick at a splintered piece of wood at the edge of the table.

“I was in college. Was supposed to be going back again this year, but… my mom spent all the fucking savings I had left for the rest of it on fixing up her dumb boyfriend’s car. It’s just been sitting in the fucking lawn all summer, sure as hell not being used for something useful like going to the job he doesn’t have. That bastard…” You say the last part under your breath through gritted teeth.

“Shit… Tha’s a tough deal, baby, ‘m real sorry to hear that,” Joel comforts. “But y’know, everybody’s got mommy ‘n daddy issues, don’t mean you just up and start walkin’ all by your lonesome, not even have any idea where you’re goin’.”

“Well, it wasn’t just that. There was… nevermind, it’s stupid.” You slump into the cushioned booth, silently cursing yourself for even bringing it up.

“What is it?” Joel pushes, sitting up straighter to show you that he wants to listen, wants to get to know you. And God dammit, he might be the first person you’ve met in a long time who actually seems to care about what you have to say, as strange as it is. You flick your eyes up to his face, and he’s wearing a sincere gaze that convinces you to continue.

“There was this girl I went to high school with. She disappeared a couple of years ago, nobody ever found out what happened to her. People figured she probably just ran away, and I thought… I dunno. That maybe she had the right idea, leaving that place behind. I always held onto this hope that maybe she was still out there somewhere actually doing something with her life, that maybe she just changed her name or something and disappeared on purpose.” You pause. “I guess I just thought I might be able to do the same, if I left.”

“I see…” Joel muses sympathetically. “Maybe I oughta give you a lil’ more credit, then. Must’a been tough losin’ a friend like that, not knowin’ where she ended up.”

“I mean, Ruby wasn’t really my friend. She just—”

“Hang on. Ruby, you said?” Joel interrupts, his eyes suddenly looking a little wild.

“...Yeah. Her name was Ruby. Ruby Carpenter.”

—

Fuck.

Joel has to adjust himself under the table, his dick now hardening uncomfortably in his jeans at just the mention of her name. He remembers Ruby, remembers chuckling to himself when he realized the irony of her name matching the color of her blood, remembers watching the news coverage of her disappearance in this very same diner, those handful of years ago. She was a sweet thing, he remembers this, too. It was a shame she had ended up being such a fighter, that she had to get put down the way she did. But she shouldn’t have thrown that fucking rock at his face, called him a sick fuck and a freak as she made her pitiful little escape attempt. Joel is lucky that all he came away from it with is that ugly little scar that mars the bridge of his nose. He can’t say the same for her.

“Why? You heard her name before?” You ask him, an unfortunate little twinkle of hope in your eyes.

“Maybe.” Yes. “Sounds a lil’ familiar, might remember hearin’ about it on the news or somethin’.”

That goddamn news coverage sure as hell taught him a lesson. Joel had spent months trying to keep the cops off his fucking tail after he had dumped her body on some forgettable patch of land behind an old decaying barn. He had even gotten pulled in for a fucking interview at the station in what he now presumes to be your hometown, where they had questioned him for an hour or so about her disappearance. He still isn’t sure how he talked his way out of that one. Ruby might not have been good for much else, other than pissing him the hell off with all of her pathetic crying and begging to just please, please let me go back home, but she did help him perfect his craft, he can give her that much. It’s because of her that Joel makes certain now that any girl he picks up doesn’t have anybody who will miss her or plaster her face on every local channel or send out goddamn search parties to find her. Girls like you.

You’re just so perfect, it would be so fucking easy for him to make you disappear for good, it’s almost comical. It had hardly taken any convincing at all to get you to climb into his truck, had taken even less to get you to agree to go to some seedy ass motel with him that might not even exist, for all you know. It does, but you didn’t even try to test him about it this time, just put all of your trust in him like a stray puppy would to the first person to pick it up off the street. That is just about what you are, he supposes. So far, you seem like the perfect candidate to become his little captive pet. If you keep it up, maybe you won’t meet the same fate as the rest of them. He’d told himself he’d be done after the last one, anyway, his body too old and achy and slow now to chase after the ones who put up a little more fight, like she had. She’d nearly escaped, made it a decent way through the woods and almost reached the main road before tripping on an exposed root and snapping her ankle. He remembers how weak and scared she’d looked before he’d used his knife to put her out of her misery, and it makes his dick twitch. Joel doesn’t plan on snuffing you out, not right now at least, since you haven’t given him a reason to. But his fingers still twitch where they rest on the table, moving out of instinct as he can’t help but imagine what they’d look like wrapped so tightly around your little throat. Would you cry? Would you beg? Would you pray? Would he have to glide his blade across your vocal chords just to get you to stop screaming so fucking loud? He wonders.

“Oh… Was that one of the times you were just ‘passin’ through’ for whatever reason you haven’t told me yet?”

Joel hadn’t realized that his eyes had been unfocused for so long, or that he’d been holding his breath, or that his hand had been squeezing his glass of water so hard he’s glad it hadn’t shattered. The airy sound of your voice brings him back to reality, and he huffs a light chuckle as he fixes his face into a more pleasant expression. 

“Yeah, ‘spose it was.” 

You roll your eyes at him playfully. “Come on, Joel. I just told you, like, my whole sob story. I feel like I deserve to know at least one thing about you now.”

You have a point.

He gives in. “Fine. I got a brother, used to come through this area when I’d pay him a visit. That good enough for ya?”

You cross your arms. “No. What’s his name?”

“Tommy.”

“What’s he look like?”

“Like me. Little younger. Little uglier.”

You laugh at that.

It makes Joel smile.

Maybe you could be the one he’s been looking for all this time. Too bad he had to waste so many others before he finally got to you.

—

The waitress comes back to your table soon after that, with your steaming plates of delicious-smelling food and hot mugs of coffee balanced expertly on a large plastic tray. She sets them down in front of the pair of you with a cheery smile, and you thank her happily when she doesn’t forget the extra sickeningly sweet cups of creamer you had requested. Joel doesn’t take his eyes off you once during the interaction, not even to feast his eyes upon the monstrous burger now sitting before him, not even as he thanks the waitress for delivering it to him. His lingering gaze makes you feel a little warm, but it could just be from the heat radiating off of your plates.

“What? You’re not getting a bite of mine, if that’s why you’re looking at me,” you tease, already getting to work putting the sugary creamer to good use.

Joel just shakes his head, his caramel colored eyes still never leaving you as your coffee begins to resemble their hue. “No, ‘s not why.”

“Whatever,” you reply through a giggle, making a poor attempt to hide your girlish grin behind the lip of your white ceramic mug. 

The two of you eat your meals in relative silence, mostly enjoying each other’s company and basking in the relaxing ambience created by silverware tapping against porcelain, hushed conversations, and the local country station playing through the old radio sitting on the counter. The reception is a little spotty way out here in wherever the hell you are, so you can’t quite tell what song it is. But Joel seems to know, judging by the rhythmic bouncing of his knee under the table that creates little circular ripples in your coffee. Maybe you’ll ask him what it is later, how he knows it, if you can listen to it again in the truck together. He doesn’t seem to be as much of an open book as you’ve already given yourself away to be, and you respect that about him. It doesn’t make you any less curious, but you resign yourself to getting to know him better in the small doses he’s willing to offer you. 

You decide to begin a mental list of all the things you want to ask him later, knowing that by the time you make it to the motel tonight, you’ll be far too exhausted to do anything more than just collapse onto the springy mattress and sleep until you get kicked out of the room the next morning. You almost wish you hadn’t listened to Joel’s request for you to take your coffee decaffeinated tonight, and you still aren’t quite sure why you did. It just feels so strangely easy to give into him, to trust him, to let him make decisions for you. You suppose that’s what you’ve been needing all this time, someone to guide you and understand you and at least pretend like they care about you. Joel has shown you more concern and care and protection in the last hour or so than either of your parents have pretty much your whole life. And he’s good at this, making you feel wanted, making you feel like somebody, even in subtle ways, just by looking at you.

“A’right, why don’t you finish up, darlin’, ‘n we’ll hit the road again. Practically usin’ your pancakes as a pillow over there.”

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize sleepily, waking yourself up enough to make quick work finishing off your plate and your last few sips of coffee. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout, sweetheart. Lord knows you need some rest, won’t be too much longer now,” Joel assures, fishing a few tens out of his faded leather wallet and placing them on the table. He slides to the edge of the booth and stands himself up with only a few pained noises as he straightens out his back, then offers his hand for you to take. You use it as leverage to pull yourself upright, and your hands linger in each other’s hold for a few seconds longer than they need to. The hostess thanks the two of you for stopping in when you pass her by, and Joel opens the door for you again as you leave Moody’s. He opens the truck door for you, too, and promises you that the motel is just another couple of minutes down the freeway. You make an effort to stay awake in your seat this time as Joel begins the drive, opting to gaze out the window and focus on trying to make out the sparkling constellations above the treeline. You smile privately at the moon when you find that she’s following closely behind you just as she always does, bright and full. 

She doesn’t leave your side until you reach the unassuming little roadside motel, which to your gratitude, proudly displays their vacancy on the flickering sign in the parking lot. It doesn’t look like a five star joint by any means, but you know it will serve its purpose just fine. Joel instructs you to stay in the truck while he goes about getting a room for the two of you, and you don’t object. He’d insisted that you didn’t need to be on your feet any longer than you already had been today, and you were too tired to argue with him even if you wanted to. When he returns, he taps lightly on the passenger side window so as not to startle you from the half-asleep, half-awake state you’ve found yourself in, and swings your backpack over his shoulder as he helps you out of the truck. He leads you to the room at the end of the row, and the door takes some finessing of the key and a shove of his shoulder to open. Joel flicks on the light, and you let out a disappointed-sounding ‘oh…’ when it reveals your accommodations.

There aren’t two beds like you had assumed Joel was going to request. There’s only one.

Joel catches your reaction. “‘S this gonna be alright? I know it ain’t the Ritz Carlton, but—”

“No, the room’s fine, it’s not that. I just thought… I just assumed that… I didn’t know it was gonna be, like… just the one bed.” You try to explain your discomfort as gently as possible, without seeming ungrateful for everything Joel has done for you tonight.

He looks at you sympathetically. “I know, I ain’t tryin’ anythin’, I swear. Guy told me it was the last room they had, jus’ figured it was better than nothin’.” 

You offer him a soft smile, but your eyes must still look a little wide as you begin to nervously pick at your fingernails. Joel continues, “I can take the chair if you want, darlin’. Get the bed all to yourself, how’s that sound?”

You visibly relax at that, your shoulders deflating as your smile becomes a little more genuine. “Okay, that’s good. Thank you.”

“‘Course, sweetheart. How’s about you take a nice hot shower, rinse off some o’ that dirt you picked up from walkin’ all day… Don’t suppose you got some suitable clothes in here for sleepin’ in?” Joel asks, handing your backpack off to you.

You shake your head. “Just some jeans and t-shirts, and another pair of shoes. And… y’know, some underwear, and stuff.”

Joel pinches the bridge of his nose, then rubs his fingers across his forehead exasperatedly. “I swear… it’s like you didn’t think there’d be a tomorrow or somethin’, girl. Christ.” Joel looks out the window to his truck parked just outside. “Tell you what, think I got somethin’ in the truck you can wear. Why don’t you see if they got anythin’ on the TV tha’s worth a damn, ‘n I’ll be back, alright?”

You nod, “Okay,” then set your backpack down on the drab carpet in favor of picking up the remote perched in front of the small square television. You sit yourself down on the edge of the bed as Joel leaves the room, and begin to flick through the few channels that aren’t just a screen full of snowy static.

Local news. Commercial. Game show. Commercial. Documentary. Commercial. 

Eventually, you land on what seems to be one of those old black-and-white western shows that you can never remember the name of. You only know that the reruns used to play on Sundays around lunchtime, because Rob would always be half paying attention to it with a beer in his hand when you and your mom would get home from church. For how adamant she was that you attend every weekend, she sure never called him a harlot and a sinner for not wanting to go with her. You’re not sure she had ever even tried to get him to go, but he probably didn’t own anything decent enough to wear, anyway. Whatever, fuck them. The show seems like the kind of thing Joel would like, so you let it keep playing. 

He comes back a moment later with a small stack of folded up clothes, tossing them over to where you sit on the bed. You unfold what he’s given you and examine them—a pair of simple pink cotton shorts, and a white tank top with a ditsy floral pattern scattered across the fabric. The clothing is a little more revealing than you’d like, but you figure you’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable wearing them to sleep than the denim shorts you have on now.

“These are… great. Thank you, Joel. But…” you snicker. “Should I be concerned that you have a very convenient supply of girls’ clothes in your truck?” Joel scoffs. “‘S for when I got Tommy’s kid with me, smartass. He’s got a daughter, few years younger ‘n you.”

“Okay, well, I dunno how I was supposed to know that, but… as long as you don’t have a girlfriend who’s gonna come after me for wearing her clothes.”

Joel only chuckles in response, his attention suddenly pulled to the TV.

“Gunsmoke, huh? ‘S a good choice, definitely what I’d classify as ‘worth a damn’.”

You smile to yourself, and his approval makes that warm fluttery feeling return to your belly. “I didn’t even know what it was called, just seemed like something you’d like.”

He turns back to you. “That obvious, huh? ‘S just ‘cause I’m old and southern, ain’t it?”

“Maybe a little,” you admit, making a pinching gesture with your hand.

Joel nods as he makes his way over to the armchair on the corner of the room, collapsing onto it with a groan. “Well, why don’t you go ‘n get yourself all changed and cleaned up, ‘n if you’re quick enough maybe we can finish the episode together and then get some shuteye, hm?”

You swiftly unzip your backpack to retrieve one of your clean pairs of underwear, then bound over to the small bathroom with them and your new change of clothes in hand. It’s not the most spotless one you’ve ever had to use, but you’ve honestly seen much worse. You rinse off quickly in the steaming shower, using the scratchy motel-provided washcloth to scrub the dirt from your legs, stuck to you with the sweat you worked up from God knows how many miles of walking today. 

Today. You can hardly believe it hasn’t even been a full 24 hours since you left home yet. It seems like you’ve already known Joel for days, maybe even years, as silly as it sounds. You wonder if he might just take you in after this, or if he’ll have had enough of providing for you after just one night. He seems like a man of limited means, and he’s already given you so much. If you’re brave enough, maybe you’ll ask him tomorrow, when you get to the ‘so… what now?’ part of your time together.

For now, you step out of the shower and dry yourself off with an impossibly scratchier towel, then pull on your panties and the tank top and shorts Joel provided you with.

Jesus, how much younger is Tommy’s daughter?

The shorts just barely cover your ass, and there’s a sizable gap between their waistband and the bottom hem of your top. The thin, white material of the shirt only serves to accentuate the way your nipples poke through the fabric, but you suppose there isn’t anything you can do about that.

You quietly crack open the bathroom door, and are somewhat relieved to find that Joel’s already fallen asleep in the chair. You do wish you could’ve finished the episode of Gunsmoke with him, but the end credits seem to be rolling already anyway, and you’d rather avoid being seen in your very ill-fitting pajamas. Although, you do wonder if he’d say anything, or if he’d just let his hungry gaze linger in silence again, holding himself back from touching you beyond a comforting pat on the thigh.

You pick the remote up off the bed and use it to make the TV screen sizzle to black, then tip toe over to the lightswitch by the door and turn it off, the room now completely shrouded in darkness. Joel snores softly from the chair as you blindly feel your way back over to the bed, pulling the covers back and nestling yourself underneath them. The bed is surprisingly comfortable, considering, and it doesn’t take long for your exhaustion to catch up with you. Your thoughts become slower and slower along with your breathing, and you’re asleep not even five minutes after your head hits the pillow.

—

The last room they had, yeah, right. You’re just the most pathetic little thing, aren’t you? You’ll believe just about anything that comes out of his mouth if he turns up the ‘southern charm’ dial a few ticks, throws in a feigned apologetic-looking expression for good measure. It’s sad, really. For you, anyway.

Joel fakes his snoring for another thirty minutes or so, until he’s certain you’re sound asleep. He had heard your breath even out almost immediately after you had tucked yourself in, but he had chosen to lay in wait for a little while longer, just to make sure you wouldn’t put up too much of a fight when he made his move. You don’t seem like the type, considering how you’d hardly argued with him at all tonight, like when he had convinced you to forgo the caffeine with your dinner. There’s a reason he wanted you sleepy and subdued tonight, but you didn’t know that. Joel likes how well you listen to him, how easily you do as he asks.

He also likes how warm you are, how small your body is compared to his own, the difference in size especially prominent now that he’s laying snugly against you, his front pressing firmly into the back of you. You don’t wake from his lumbering movement, only coming to slightly when you feel his arm slide underneath your body, his warm hand snaking its way beneath your tiny shirt to squeeze at your plush tits. 

You mumble out a little “Hm?”, which he’s quick to quiet with, “Sorry, darlin’. Chair was too hard on my damn back. Just go back to sleep, ‘kay?” That chair felt like laying on a goddamn cloud compared to some of the other surfaces he’s found himself having to sleep on before, but again, you don’t know that, and what you don’t know won’t hurt you. You probably won’t even remember this in the morning, how his hard cock is slotted so perfectly against your ass, especially without the confines of his thick jeans holding him back. They’re discarded onto the floor now in front of the armchair, along with his flannel shirt and jacket. Joel holds you tightly against his bare, hairy chest as he circles a roughened pad of his finger around one of your nipples, smirking to himself at how quickly the bud hardens from his touch. He knew you wanted this, and the wet spot that the fingers of his other hand are teasing in the gusset of your panties is proof of it. How long have you been leaking for him like this? Had you been soaking the seat of his truck earlier today? Filthy thing.

You still don’t rouse when he pulls your panties aside and slips a finger inside your slick cunt, or when his grip on your tit loosens in favor of sliding up higher under your tank top, his hand coming to a rest around the base of your throat as he pumps his finger in and out of your tight heat. It would be so fucking easy…

But he can’t, he won’t, because you’re not like the others. You want to get to know him, you let him take care of you, you seem to like his company, and you don’t leap out of bed and call him a fucking perv and a dirty old man for what he’s doing to you. That’s what the others would have done. It’s what they have done. And they faced the consequences.

But you’re different. You’re not like them. You’re like him. A lost soul, that’s what you are. Nowhere to call home, no one who misses you or loves you or gives a damn what happens to you. Joel’s mouth had tasted bitter when he had told you about Tommy, or rather, lied about him. Joel hasn’t seen the fucker in years, certainly doesn’t pay him any visits or watch his brat, not since Tommy had learned the truth. You better not show your goddamn face around here ever again, you understand me? Tommy had spat at him. You’re fuckin’ sick. Only reason I don’t turn your ass in myself is ‘cause you’re my goddamn brother. But if I ever fuckin’ see you again, I won’t hesitate. Better make yourself pretty fuckin’ scarce ‘fore I change my mind. That might’ve been about the only time Joel had ever taken orders from his little brother. 

That bitter flavor is cut by the sweet tang of you that he tastes on his finger now, so young and eager and fresh. The hand around your throat squeezes a little tighter, and Joel’s hips begin to move against your ass as he allows himself to suck wet kisses onto the skin under the hinge of your jaw. Softly, gently, so as not to wake you. He could come just like this, using your pliant body in your sleep, rutting himself against your still form with the taste of your pussy on his tongue and his fingers pressed against your pulse points.

He’s close when you stir again, making broken hiccuping sounds as you choke on your breath.

“Shh, shh,” Joel soothes. “You’re alright, sweetheart. ‘S just me. Just—fuck—hold still, go back to sleep, baby.” You let out a quiet whimper, squirming against him just a little bit, but return to your unmoving and silent state a second later. Joel finishes himself off quickly with another couple of shallow thrusts against you, his large hand still gripped around the column of your neck, trying to stifle his groans as he spills into his briefs. He removes his suffocating hand and keeps you pressed tightly against him for a while after that, tanned arms wrapped around your waist and breathing in your scent as he waits for you to settle back down. 

When he’s sure he won’t disturb you again, Joel releases you from his hold and pads quietly back over to the armchair, redressing himself and resuming the position you had left him in. In the morning, if you do remember any of it, you’ll just chalk it up to a very strange dream, one fueled by the desire he knows you’ve felt towards him since he picked you up. You’ll be left with a strange assuredness that he feels the same way about you, without really knowing why. 

But Joel will always know.

—

The digital clock on the nightstand only reads around 8:00 when you’re awoken by a beam of sunlight shining brightly against the backs of your eyelids, streaming in from the window’s lopsided blinds. You had gone to sleep with your back to Joel, but you find yourself facing him now. He looks kind of peaceful when he’s asleep, that permanent furrow etched between his brows finally smoothed out as he dozes. A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, but they fall quickly when you adjust your legs and feel the cool dampness against your core, the sensation bringing back the memory of the dream you’d had last night. 

It had felt so real, but it couldn’t have been, could it? There’s no evidence that Joel had really laid next to you last night, that he’d really touched you like that, that you’d wanted him to keep going. It must just be some kind of strange side effect of the affection you feel toward the man who had rescued you, more or less. You’ll likely just part ways after today, anyway, so it’s probably best to just try and forget about the whole thing, put on a fresh pair of underwear and pretend it never happened. 

Joel is awake by the time you’re done freshening up in the bathroom, and he greets you with a raspy ‘Mornin’, sweetheart’ as you retrieve your backpack from next to the bed and shove your ruined underwear into the bottom of it. “You get some good sleep last night?” He asks, rubbing a hand over his eye.

“Mhm, the bed was nice, more comfortable than the one I had at home, honestly.” You finish zipping your backpack closed and sit back down on the bed, pulling on some socks and the lace up sneakers you had been wearing yesterday. “I hope the chair was okay, like, for your back and everything.”

“What makes you say that, baby?”

You pause in the middle of tying one of your shoelaces, turning to look at him with a confused pout. “Didn’t you…? I thought you had told me something about how the chair would be hard on your back. Like, last night.”

Joel frowns, shaking his head. “Don’t think so, darlin’. Chair was just fine.”

“Oh… Well, that’s good.”

Maybe it had just been a dream, then.

Joel hands you a few bills from his wallet, and tasks you with getting the two of you some breakfast from the gas station across the street while he cleans himself up. He tells you that he doesn’t eat much in the mornings, but that you can get yourself whatever you want, as long as you bring him back a carton of cigarettes and a black coffee. You obey eagerly, retrieving what he asked for and getting a pack of miniature powdered donuts and an equally as sugary coffee for yourself.

He’s just stepped out of the bathroom when you return to the room, and your face feels hot when you see him with his dark hair slicked back and wet from the shower. The few strands that fall onto his forehead as he laces up his boots almost make him look a little boyish, despite his whitened temples. 

“Such a good girl, thank you,” Joel praises when you hand him his items. 

You respond with a shy ‘You’re welcome’, but he doesn’t miss how you seem to light up at his words. You plop yourself down onto the worn-in chair that Joel had used as a bed last night, happily munching on your gas station donuts and sipping on your coffee. It all makes you feel warm from the inside out.

But you figure you should find out what the rest of today might look like before you let yourself enjoy the beginnings of it too much.

“So, um… We’re just gonna check out this morning and then… what?” 

“Whaddya mean, baby?”

“I mean… are you just gonna, like… take me to the nearest bus station or something?”

Joel’s confusion is written all over his face, embedded deep into those lines between his brows. You could swear he almost looks a little hurt. “Why would I do that? ‘S that what you want?” He asks softly.

You try to backpedal a little, afraid you might’ve offended him or seemed ungrateful in your question. “I just thought it might be what you want. That you probably have somewhere else you need to be, like Tommy’s or—”

“No, I don’t,” Joel says definitively.

You pause. “Okay, so—”

“You ever been to California?”

His question stumps you for a moment, seeming so random in its nature. “No.”

“You want to?”

You shrug. “I mean… sure. Maybe someday—”

“Why don’t you come with me then, baby?”

You let out an awkward giggle. “...Come with you where?”

“To California. Come with me.” Joel’s tone is genuine but firm.

“Like, today? Are you sure?”

“I mean, we ain’t gettin’ there today, darlin’. But yeah, I’m sure. We both got nowhere else to be, do we? So let’s just go, we’ll see it together.”

You beam up at him, realizing that he’s being serious. Joel does want you, wants you to be his companion, maybe even something more that you’ll discover on familiar-looking back roads and in cities you’ve only ever seen pictures of. 

“Okay,” you agree excitedly. 

Joel nods. “Okay, then. Lemme go check us out ‘n we’ll get back on the road again. Burnin’ daylight already,” he jokes. He carries your backpack out to the truck for you, setting it down between your feet after he opens the door and helps you inside with a stable hand. It only takes a few minutes for Joel to hand in the room key and pay for the night, and then he’s back at your side. You begin to feel like that’s where you always want him to stay. 

“So, where to first, baby? California ain’t goin’ anywhere, can take as long to get there as we wanna. We’ll go wherever you like, take your pick.” Joel leans across your body to dig a folded up map out of the glove compartment, handing it to you. 

You examine it, your eyes darting across the dozens of dots with the names of cities next to them, some you’ve never even heard of. You point to one that you have heard of, but have never been to, because you’ve never even left the state you grew up in before.

“Um… how about Detroit? I’ve heard it’s nice, I think.”

Joel belly laughs at that. “It ain’t, but sure. You wanna go to Detroit, that’s where we’ll go. Buckle up, baby,” he instructs, patting your thigh. You oblige, and it feels good to finally know where you’re going, and that you’re going there with someone who cares about you, who feels safe, who wants you around. You also feel a little hopeful that maybe you were right about Ruby, after all. That you didn’t start walking for nothing, that you weren’t following some childish delusion, that if something as good as Joel had happened to you when you left, that maybe she had found herself on a similar path, ran into somebody good who took her wherever she wanted to go and helped her find someplace she belonged. Maybe she found her way out to California, eventually. What you are certain of is that neither of you ever have to go back to that town ever again, and that feels good, too.

And if it feels good, then it can’t be bad.

tag list: tag list: @beefrobeefcal @iamasaddie @rebel-held @dilfgestivo @zliteraturehoe @joeldjarin @kamcrazy123 @hellowoolf @rexamongthestars @stevie75 @luxurychristmaspudding @noisynightmarepoetry @mewantpeepaw @pedritoferg @alex-does-art-things @evolnoomym @annoyingmarvelreader @k1l4ni @joelsdagger (if your name is crossed out, it won’t let me tag you!!)

[hypnos333]

Helloooo! I saw that your requests were open for Hazbin- how about a reader who's a seraphim? Kind of Lucifer's protégé/child way before the creation of Eden, Adam, and Lilith.

And he just kind of left them up there alone and neglected because of her association/kind of Dad!Lucifer. So, it's kind of angsty seeing as how Lucifer was a better Dad to Charlie and the reader grew with envy and fell into that ring along with her brother (I've been seeing hc/rumor a lot) Cain.

What would happen their first meeting again? If this is too much I don't really mind so no worries! Have a nice day and thanks for reading!!

A/N: I’m sorry but I go by biblical too so this might be different but same concept and storyish

Like father like daughter

Lucifer x daughter Reader

Synopsis: Your dad left you young now you left him

How it started

You are my Sunshine My only sunshine

You make me happy When skies are grey

Little you giggles at your father’s little song for you and only you. You were an angel whose mother was long gone leaving just you and your father. You made grabby hands towards him making his heart melt before lift you up.

“Boop” you cutely said as you boop his nose making him chuckle. “Boop” he said back making you giggle this time.

“Okay baby it’s time for me to go to work so Uncle Castiel is gonna watch you okay baby?” He asked you making you nod happily before rushing to your uncles arms.

You never knew that was the last time you would see him and with that you cried and cried for your dad until Sera and the other Angels showed you he forgot about you, he had a wife and daughter….

You watched as he singed the same lyrics he sang to you to her. You were only 5 and parentless watching your father abandon you but staying for another that his. That’s when you grew up odd with another angel. You were evil or as they say a bad apple.

You were Cain’s secret friend encouraging him to kill his brother Abel. That when you were sent down in hell where your dad is but you never cared to look for him finding some friends of your own.

You were older and more mature then her but she was the youngest, and you were the oldest. Does that mean you had to made the sacrifice to be left?

Even so it hurts and your growing hate towards your father and sister grew stronger by the centuries.

With Lucifer though he was trying everywhere to find you, You were no where to seen in heaven and no where on earth so you must be in hell. But even then he couldn’t find you.

You grew close to Cain when he came to hell after being full of pride and thinking he could live without God and with his punishment. You saw him as a brother the only family you considered. You were never gonna be ready to let your other family in your life and you meant that.

When you were both getting ice cream You heard something. “___!” you turned around to see lucifer huffing and puffing finally catching up to you.

“My Sunshine! Woah have you grown into a-” you punched him in the face. You the eldest of Lucifer punched him in the face and my god it felt great to do. Your unbelievable smile widen as you saw his pain. Call it fucked up as you will but you almost laugh on how pathetic he was and to believe you looked up you him.

“Don’t… Don’t call me that. I thought we both grew out of that nickname a long time ago” You mumbled before turning away from him having nothing else to say.

“___ I was trying to protect you! Don’t you understand I was going to come back for you. I-“COME BACK TO ME? NOW THATS BULLSHIT “DAD” BECAUSE SPENDING TIME WITH YOUR OTHER BORN WAS NOT LOOKING FOR ME” You interrupted him turning into your full demon form Lucifer looked at you in shocked and stunned.

“I was 5 waiting for my own father to come home” You stated calmly as Lucifer looked at you with tears in his eyes.

“Please give me another chance, I love you too much to let you go” He pleaded taking you hand but you yanked it straight away.

“You gonna know how it feels to let go of the person you” You growled before walking away from him.

“You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please…. Don’t take my sunshine away” He prayed as tears slipped down his eyes reaching out to you knowing your already far from him. knowing he lost his firstborn hurt

“Daddy! teach me how to dance!” A little you say as Lucifer looked up as a little you held your hand towards him he tried to reached but then you just faded. That little girl was long gone the moment he didn’t take you with him.

[musamora]

𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖙𝖜𝖎𝖓𝖊𝖉 「𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔦𝔣𝔢𝔯」 ೀ⋆｡˚

content. f!reader. discussions of separation/divorce, friends to lovers, (name) is a fallen angel, sexual harassment, insecurities, discussions of mental health, spoilers for hazbin hotel season finale, implied/referenced not-safe for work. not proofread. 3.3k+ words.

author's note. i'm not sure if i'll be making a valentine's day post, but i haven't updated in a while, and i wanted to post something. so here's another hazbin hotel oneshot that's been in my drafts for a while! (sorry to all my bsd readers, i will be posting content soon!) i hope you guys enjoy ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

would you like to see more? join the taglist or comment under this post!

synopsis. two fallen ones, cut from the same cloth, destinies forever intertwined by the choices you made as young seraphim.

OR someone comes in to try and ruin your relationship with lucifer, and he isn't happy about it.

You remembered the sensation of an eternal inferno, the mark of damnation that scorched your fingertips, submerging your divine being within a cluster of flames. Exiled from the heavens—a fate worse than death to most became an accepted element of your newfound reality. You never belonged perched atop clouds, even with the virtue nestled in the recesses of your heart. A part of you feared the unknown as you descended through novas and clouds, but it felt like a pressure had lifted from your being as those imposing gates shrunk behind you.

As the first of a cluster of falling stars, your impact landed you on the steaming ground of a new, hellish landscape, your mind scattered from the force of the fall, limbs trembling with their aching joints. And that was when you saw him, a brand-new man who held out his hand, smile desperate yet reassuring. The Morning Star himself, brought upon the same fate, still shaken from the tragedy of his descent—it had been much more personal for him.

“It’ll be okay, (Name),” his familiar voice reassured, but it was impossible not to hear the waver in his tone as your hands intertwined. “It’ll all be okay.”

And with a single touch, traversing hand-in-hand through this foreign land, you knew that someday, he would be right.

But that happened many millennia ago, a tale for storybooks rather than a memory that should’ve constantly been on a loop in your mind, held onto during the dead of lonely, bitter nights. Despite your long-standing friendship, the both of you held very separate lives—him with his family, you with your industry. You worked in tandem in relation to the public and aristocratic duties but otherwise barely spoke past the occasional smile and wave. And no, you couldn’t help the desolation that had sprouted inside your heart, the muscle aching as you observed his radiant smile from across ballrooms, the king exchanging affectionate glances at his wife while coddling his sweet daughter. But you were happy for him all the same. He deserved to be surrounded by those he loved, deserved to be happy after years of heartbreak, even if you weren’t in the picture.

But you knew that you could depend on each other, even if you hadn’t spoken in months. It was an unspoken connection between you, a rule unbroken. Which was the reason you knew his midnight call one evening had been serious. His voice was flooded with anguish, sputtering out incomprehensible words as his breath caught with every beat. You dropped everything, the paperwork and meeting planning, flying over with speed so fast that the denizens of Hell whispered for days about the shooting star that had flown across the sky that evening. 

In your journey, there was one persistent question that kept bothering you—why wasn’t his wife the one to comfort him? It wasn’t that you minded, not at all, but the entire situation struck you as odd. However, your answer became clear as you cracked open the doors to his bed chambers; the room was frozen and still as if left abandoned. However, the knocked-over furniture and smashed artifacts only made it look like it was robbed, which you highly doubted. And there in the center of the chaos was the Morning Star himself—no, Lucifer. Simply Lucifer. His body crumpled to the ground, painful hiccups leaving his lips. You slipped inside with ease and were about to grab his attention, and then you spotted it, the large lettering of a familiar type of document—a divorce agreement.

You were aware that the relationship between Lucifer and Lilith wasn’t perfect, not by any means. When they had fallen in love, there wasn’t a guideline for navigating relationships and marriage. They had to play it entirely by ear, leading to rushed decisions and a shaky foundation. You had always believed that they were each other’s perfect half, but it was only because their punishment and subsequent banishment had tied them together and forced them to suffer the same fate. At least, that was their belief for a couple of millennia. It didn’t mean that the split that was bound to happen didn’t hurt.

His cries had been hard to hear, throaty and painful, his body trembling as he mourned on the floor. It took a culmination of your mental and physical strength to unravel him, forcing him away from those papers and into an embrace, slowly steadying his breath with yours as he clung to you as if you would leave if he let go. That night set the standard for weeks of a miserable routine, with the former king reduced to sobs and silence. It was unbearable, especially as he pulled away from those who cared for him—his fellow sins, his friends, and especially his daughter. But you continued to hold on, not leaving even with his harsh utterances and occasional outbursts. You wouldn’t let him be alone, couldn’t let him be alone, moving into the broken family’s manor to care for him full-time.

And he would always be thankful for that.

His mental health was climbing uptick for years, fluctuating back and forth until he had stabilized, at least in comparison to his state before. He became fantastic at masking his depression, brushing it underneath the rug as he delved into his own creations, pushing many of his relationships even further away as he stopped leaving home. You were the one to bring him food and clean the estate—his staff had drifted to other careers over the past few years. You were the one assuring that he wasn’t left hunched over a bench in the worst posture possible, toiling away with his latest obsession, no matter the cuteness of the ducks.

In his more conscious moments, you would listen as he ranted about his issues, even though you both were aware they were a product of his self-isolation. But in those instants, whispering quietly as if the heavens still held onto your every word, hiding from its light as if the touch of it would scorch your skin, an intimacy blossomed from the depths of your former friendship. It had remained idle for centuries, underlying the foundation of every interaction and word, leaving fleeting touches and shared laughter in your blissful youths for stern support and brief softness in your demonic adulthoods—neither of you ever noticed that you saw the other through heart-shaped lenses. Two fallen ones, cut from the same cloth, destinies forever intertwined by the choices you made as young seraphim.

But that had been the norm for thousands of years.

And without knowing, you had fallen into a relationship stage humans had archaically dubbed as “courting,” traveling outside the estate for the chance to spend time with one another, exchanging personalized gifts whenever the opportunity arose, swapping words of encouragement and affection. It was only after you had kissed him on the cheek one night that you both realized your feelings, and it only spiraled on from there. There were scars from his past love—undoubtedly, you had nurtured them with care—but even despite those, you worked to establish a healthy, balanced relationship as you navigated this strange stage in your lives.

However, there was someone who had not been quite so fond of this new development. You had attended meetings with the Heaven Embassy for many years as a favor to Lucifer, his absence becoming common after his separation from Lilith, but you could still remember locking eyes with the first man as you entered the room, dropping the chicken drum in his hands as his mouth widen agape.

“Hot damn.”

His flirtatious and oftentimes self-centered advances didn’t fly past your head like you wished they would. It seemed despite having thousands of years under his belt, he was unable to learn any kind of manners, but he had been the original sexist prick. And for his status as a divine man, he fucked around a lot. You didn’t doubt that was due to his own insecurities about both of his wives preferring someone else’s dick over his.

Once you and Lucifer had started dating, you happened to make the mistake of slipping that information to Adam in the hopes that he would back off, but it only seemed to provide him a challenge as his flirtations increased tenfold. From then on, your meetings no longer consisted of the same old information surrounding the exterminations; rather, they were him pointing out the many sexual accolades that he had roped under his belt and the way that apparently made him better than Lucifer—his favorite line was always that “that snake must have a little snake.”

Your disdain was obvious, repeating over and over for him to shut his mouth, but he would only smirk, taking your response as a sign that he had struck a nerve and that it was an opportunity to dig deeper. You decided to take over all the meetings with the embassy, keeping Lucifer away from the lecherous banter of the man, no matter the discomfort that formed in your gut from his unabashed perverseness and the predatory stares at your body.

“Come onnnn, babe,” Adam whined, in the middle of biting the meat off a chicken bone.

You shot him a look. “I’m not your babe, Adam.”

“Babe.” If you were able to reach over and strangle him, you would’ve. That was probably the reason the coward used a hologram instead of coming here himself. “A guy like that couldn’t possibly please you the way I could.”

You massaged your nose bridge, pointedly ignoring the flicker of his eyes from your face to your chest, unable to maintain stable eye contact. “Can we just get on with the meeting?”

“You know I’m right, but I’ll let you off the hook for now.”

You groaned, slamming your head onto the table.

From years onward, his nerve only increased, but he had never shown his bloodlust to you before until the exorcist army descended from the heavens to wreak chaos and death upon the doorstep of Lucifer’s only child, Charlie. You and the ever-so-optimistic princess of Hell developed quite a soft spot for one another, which wasn’t difficult since you had already been considered family in centuries past. The title of your romantic relationship with her father initially came with questions and a couple of awkward moments, but it wouldn’t stop either of you from growing a deeper friendship and understanding, walking through the process together. And it definitely didn’t stop you from defending the girl you had seen for years as a pseudo-daughter, along with her noble ambitions.

“Charlie!” you yelled, knocking Adam away from her as he attempted to strangle her. Charlie sputtered, holding her throat with a pained cough, and you raised a steady hand to her back, helping her rise to her feet. You gave her a once-over, relieved to find that she had no substantial wounds besides a couple of cuts and bruises.

You sighed, cupping her rosy cheeks. “Thank goodness you’re alright. Sorry for being so late. Your father will be here any moment.”

Her formerly desolate expression quickly changed into a beaming smile, eyes glimmering with revitalized determination. “Good! We need all the help we can get.”

However, the moment was cut short by the overexaggerated breaths of a particular man, Adam wobbling to his feet as he cradled his bruised ribs, which you didn’t doubt had been cracked in the impact. It was hard not to smile as he struggled to stand, a wave of retribution twitching through your fingertips.

“You bitch,” he groaned between shallow gasps, though his voice drifted into a humorous lilt. “You know, I’m all for feisty women, but this shit’s a bit extreme, don’tcha think, babe?”

“I am not your babe, Adam.”

You cringed at the moan that left his lips, knowing it was not from the pain of his bruises. “God damn, I love it when you say my name.” He chuckled. “It’d be better if you screamed it.”

“You couldn’t have been that good if both your wives left you for someone else,” you muttered, swallowing your bodily urge to vomit as you rubbed the burgeoning headache coursing through your temples.

His expression drained of any warmth or humor, only leaving behind the rotted, sinful corpse of a man that he pretended not to be. “What the fuck did you say to me, bitch?”

“Hmmm,” you hummed, rolling your eyes. “Did I strike a nerve there?”

His mouth contorted into a snarl. “You know, the only reason that snake keeps your ass around is because he needs a couple of assets,” he barked, curving his hands to gesture toward your curves. “To distract him!”

“Hey! Don’t talk about him—”

He cut you off, his imposing figure towering over you. “You’re only a convenience. A pretty face and a hole to fuck.”

You gasped, but he didn’t let you speak, a smirk curling up on his disgusting face. “You don’t mean anything to him, hun,” he sneered, his voice sickeningly sweet as he grabbed your chin, craning your neck at a muscle-aching angle to stare into your eyes. “You had a chance at heaven, slut. A chance to be with me. And you fuckin’ blew it—!”

He didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence, a bone-crunching punch tunneling into his face, his body cast off the hotel, which rocked under the aftershock, before it started to crumble like a deck of cards. With no time to waste, you and Charlie haphazardly jumped from shrapnel piece to shrapnel piece, able to land on the ground with barely a tumble as it collapsed into your foundation. The moment would’ve been devastating if your focus hadn’t been pinpointed elsewhere, the screams of a dying man drawing everyone to the impact pit.

“You have a lot of fuckin’ nerve,” a low voice scowled, sweltering steam blocking everyone’s vision away from the pair until it evaporated into the air, and that was when you spotted him. His voice was barely recognizable. The duplicated tones and whispers surrounding each word made him unidentifiable. But you knew who it was; those familiar sets of wings and the eyes of his tailcoat were clues enough. You hadn’t seen him take this form in decades, centuries even—he had no use for it, and to go to such an extreme was unlike him. He was shaking more than ever before; his fists balled up Adam’s collar as he pinned him to the ground.

“Intruding on my fuckin’ realm. Hurting my daughter.” And with each offense, another blow was added to the first man’s face, which looked more like roadkill than a former human with each malefaction. “Harassing and insulting my future wife!”

“Don’t you mean your little whore?” Adam managed to utter, that cocky tone still persistent. 

But that was a terrible mistake.

Lucifer did not respond to his comment, not at all. Instead, he paused, finding himself unprepared for the sheer audacity of the man underneath him, a man only clinging to life through recesses of holy power and spite. To the unsuspecting bystander, it would seem the king had calmed himself down, but instead, an inferno blazed between his fingertips, his form threatening to tear with the amount of heavenly light that he balanced on his palms. The ire of his many eyes looked upon Adam, and they saw to it that his judgment day had come early.

“Die.”

“Dad!”

Luck seemed to have Adam’s back as Charlie intervened, one of the few people who could ever draw her father out of such an irate warpath. However, it was only after a moment of contemplation from Lucifer, whose eyes stared at Adam, his face unreadable as his fingers twitched before he cracked a wicked smirk.

“How’s mercy feel, bitch?”

The next moments were a blur, though those eyes had turned towards you instead, not with the anger they had towards Adam, but of sheer contemplation—not that you paid attention to them, watching Adam’s death unfold in an ironically anti-climatic sort of way. You would’ve felt bad if your mind didn’t remedy the guilt in your gut with memories of your several encounters, most of which were not PG-13. The rest of the staff and residents gathered their bearings, joining to work on rebuilding the hotel, but you did not have the strength to. Instead, you took a moment for yourself, thoughts toiling through your head as they often did, not understanding the icky, nauseous feeling pooling at the bottom of your stomach.

You flinched at the brush of a hand that rested on your shoulder, only to find that it had been Lucifer, his brow furrowed in that same contemplative expression. And much like those times alone in the estate decades prior, a patient silence persisted as he sat next to you, gauging each touch as he pulled you closer, allowing your limp body to lean into his.

“You know none of what that asshole said is true, right?”

Is that what you had been so concerned about? You couldn’t tell. Your thoughts surrounding your relationship, especially in the context of his former love, had always been indecipherable, even to yourself. His question brought a small beam of clarity into the shadowed pits of your darkest thoughts, but it wasn’t the time to talk about it. Not now, at least.

“Yeah, I know.” Your voice was more shaken than you wanted it to come out, but he understood the underlying message. He could tell it wasn’t the truth, not entirely, and that the roots of your insecurities weren’t something to be remedied through a singular conversation. But it was a start. He intertwined your fingers, caressing the bare area of your ring finger.

“I wish you would’ve told me,” he spoke, his voice soft. “I would never have let you go to those meetings.”

You stayed staring out into the distance. “It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

However, he believed differently, tilting your chin as he cupped your face, much more loving compared to the hands that had grabbed you prior. And his eyes, ones that had been filled with hatred, now glinted in sharp concern. “But it is a big deal. That’s sexual harassment.”

“You were going through so much,” you replied. “It was just one additional thing I didn’t want you to deal with. Another burden on your back.”

“(Name),” he said, voice stern.

The gruffness of his uncompromising tone drew your eyes to your hands. “Any insult to you is an insult to me. Always has been, always will be. People don’t get to talk to you like that. It doesn’t matter what shit I’m going through. That doesn’t mean you get to be thrown under the bus.” He cracked a smile. “And anyone who even thinks of treating you less than the perfection you are deserves to be roasted alive. You’re not a burden. You’re priceless.”

“You’re really into those cannibalism metaphors recently,” you quipped, a bit of your reprieve and humor returning back. He laughed, his heart falling into ease, though he recognized the nod towards his disdain for a certain radio demon, his expression contorting in disgust.

“I’m not gonna eat him! Think of how gross that thing would taste. Just awful, bleh—!”

You cut him off with a kiss, making his rosy cheeks redden more. “Thanks, Lu.”

You tried to stand. His arm braced underneath your back, a hand brushing across the sensitive skin of your waist as he hovered above, his lips locked onto yours. You sighed into his mouth as his fingers mapped every beauty mark of your face, only for him to split, panting. His eyes shone with recognizable desperation, but the smirk on his lips told you he was prepped to tease, brushing the stray baby hairs out of your face that had been ruffled in the fray.

“If someone ever bothers you like that again, you tell me. Got it?”

You only sighed. “Lucifer, I can handle my—”

He pressed a kiss to your knuckles, mouth upturned in a cheeky grin at the way it cut you off. “It’s not smart to fight without your shield, now, is it?’

You relented, unable to withhold your bashful grin. “Of course.”

A silence persisted.

“Your future wife, hm?”

“…shit.”

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @little-miss-chaoss

© 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋 2024 — do not repost or modify my works for any reason. do not steal graphics w/o explicit permission. reblogs are appreciated.

[kyseya]

The creation

Imagine being the daughter of a wealthy family in the 1800s. Life was strict for you. You didn’t have much freedom and your only goal in life is to become a perfect wife. Your salvation was your brother. He stood up against your parents and helped you when no one else would. Without him you’d be even more lost.

Your brother is a genius. It seems like there is nothing he can’t do. Apart from creating life, that is. You love your brother so much, but there is a side to him you wished he could just abandon. Your whole life you’ve known him and during all that time he’s been obsessing over the topic of ‘life’ in all its forms.

He wants to uncover all its secrets and unlock the ultimate knowledge; to the point of sacrificing himself. That is how obsessed he is. You thought this research would be his downfall. But one day he did it, he created life!

Yandere! Creation who knows how hideous he is. It was no secret after all; both his creation and his scarring appearance. It was not pleasing to the eye. He wished he could forget about it and go on about his day, but it is hard when your creator reminds you every now and then.

Yandere! Creation who was introduced to you one day. His master made it a point to treat you with outmost care and respect, he would not tolerate any other behaviour. He didn’t want to face any punishment so he agreed.

Yandere! Creation who, at first, only treated you well because that was his instructions. But after getting to know you, he realised you deserved every bit of good in the world. You were so bright, almost like the sun itself(the one he wasn’t allowed to see). You were so kind to him. You spoke gently to him and never raised your voice, even during the moments where he did mess up. His master was never outright cruel, but he certainly wasn’t the warmest person. He looked at him like the creation he was. He was not a friend, not a family member, and he would never be.

You were the only one who acted as if he was a real person. You gave him the warmth he sought after but could receive. If he felt sad about his existence, you were there and let him use your as a pillow to cry on. You would hold him and softly comfort him. Not only that, you fought with your brother for his freedom. He didn’t deserve to be contained like some infectious desease.

Yandere! Creation who couldn’t help but fall for you. You didn’t act as if he was a monster, a creature, a being. He felt like a person whenever he was with you. He didn’t have to remember that he’s just parts stitched together into a horrid being.

Yandere! Creation who does everything to be able to spend more time with you. He is far from stupid and he knows how to manipulate situations in his favour. To be honest, he is a bit surprised how many of his antics flies under the radar of his master. The so-called genius might not be the smartest after all.

He loves using his super strength to assist you with different chores. Need someone to accompany you to the market? He’s on it! He’ll carry the stuff for you and fend off any unwanted attention. The men in the village are nothing short of pigs, so you should have someone protecting you. Can’t reach the high shelf? He’ll take down anything you can’t reach. There is no reason for you to strain yourself.

Yandere! Creation who wonders if you’d be happy being his wife?

[thewritetofreespeech]

Here & Now

pairing: Aemond targaryen x Targaryen!reader [Rhaenyra & Daemon's daughter]

summary: on the morning you were set to return to Dragonstone to reunite with your family, the Greens make their move to take the throne, and Aemond comes to you.

tags: heterosexual sex, fingering, loss of virginity, targaryen incest themes, tw: blood, tw: knives

words: 3.1K

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When you were a little girl, your mother used to read you stories. Ones about knights, fey creatures, and princesses locked in towers. You never liked the tower ones. You always asked why they just didn't jump out of the tower to get away.

Looking down at the courtyard from your window, you realized that maybe they had a long way down as you did and that's why they couldn't get away.

The door opened and you sprung from your seat to face your intruder. You weren’t sure who you were expecting, but it wasn’t Aemond. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you.” His voice was even, but years of being near each other told you that his undertones were that of someone who was ashamed. “Are you alright?”

“I am a prisoner in my own home, Aemond. What do you think?!” You don’t mean to scratch at him. You are sure this is none of his doing, but he was the only one here.

You felt the fool for choosing to stay with your great-aunt Rhaenys, not wanting her to be left alone; even fierce she-dragons needed someone to lean on. But this morning you were barred from leaving your chambers by gold cloaks. You demanded to know what was the meaning of this. Demanded to know what was going on. Demanded to speak to your grandfather. Yet no one would answer you.

“Our patriarch is dead.” You felt a stone sink into your stomach. Somehow, you knew this to be true. King Viserys was very ill. It was only a collection of days in the best circumstances. “They’re going to make Aegon king this afternoon.” You felt as though the stone, and your breakfast, was going to come back up.

“So you are going to usurp my mother’s claim?! Take her birthright away!”

“It’s not my doing.” Aemond snapped at you. Clearly tired of being scratched. “It’s my mothers.” You scoff. You both know that Alicent’s clumsy maneuverings are just the attempts of her father. The King’s Hand with the knife in his back.

“So I am to what, hm? Sit here quietly while you take away my family’s future until you throw me over the walls edge?”

“I doubt you would sit here quietly, and no one is going to throw you over a wall, or any other ledge. Not if I have a say in it.”

You laugh. Despite yourself. Aemond was always funny, if you paid attention to him.

So few ever did. A second son, of a second marriage, with a princess in line for the throne. He was as meaningless as sand to the beaches to most people, then avoided completely after he was maimed. You always felt bad for that. Thought it was unfair that Lucerys got off scot-free after he crippled one of their own. People called those who took blood from their family Kinslayers, but what of those that maim their members?

“So you will let me go?”

Aemond shrugged. “Probably.” It was likely the best answer he could give. This wasn’t his decision. He couldn’t honestly tell you either way. But he did know, “you cannot take your dragon though.”

You felt your heart freeze in your chest. As if your Targaryen blood rushed out of you at the thought of abandoning your dragon. “You would take Stormsheild from me?” Your voice quaked despite your efforts. “Why not just cut off my arm? My heart….”

Aemond rushed over to you as you began to sob. Everything crashing down around you, and the thought of losing your dragon too much to bear. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close. “It doesn’t have to be this way.” He whispered in your hair. “You can stay here. With me.”

You pull back from Aemond’s chest to look at him. Blinking away tears as you must not have heard him right. “What?”

“Stay here with me.” He repeated it. You had not misheard. “Stay with me and you can keep Stormshield and your home, and be back in line for the throne. As my queen.”

You step back from Aemond to look at him. “You would…have me forsake my own mother? Turn my back on her?”

“You were always meant to turn your back on her to be with me.” He clasped at your hand. Not pulling you close again but not letting you go. Aemond speaks of course of your engagement. You had been betrothed from a young age, much like Aegon & Helaena or any other noble child in the realm. King Viserys last ditch effort to bring the two sides of his family together, you assumed. It had not gone over well with Alicent or your mother. Your father threw a chair when his side was alone. But none of them could stand against the king and his decision, so the pact stood.

You had not been upset about it like the adults. You cared for Aemond. He had been sweet when you left him. You sent him ravens. He remembered your nameday and sent your candied treats in secret. And when you return, he had grown into a fine, if not jaded, man. Fierce, refined, handsome. What had been childhood friendship and fancy turned into a blooming love overnight. One you were excited to explore. But now your blooms were burning into ash.

“My mother won’t stand for this. My father will come.”

“I have no doubt he will try.” There was no way Daemon would let his truest daughter, his favorite, stay here without a fight. He wouldn’t be so brazen about his favoritism like his father, but even with his one-eye Aemond could tell that you were his favorite over his Velaryon vipers. If Rhaenyra took the throne, he would have broken their engagement the first chance he got. A second son nowhere near good enough for his Targaryen jewel. Now he had all the more reason to break it, as Aemond wasn’t stupid enough to think Rhaenyra & Daemon were going to give up the throne without a fight. But what if he didn’t have a choice?

“I want you to be my wife. Right here. Right now.”

You looked at Aemond in shock. Suddenly afraid. “You’re not going to—“I would never hurt you.” He seemed offended you would even suggest it. Understandable. “But this was how it was always meant to be. You and me. No matter what happens, no one can take that away from us if you agree to be mine. We can be together.”

Your head was swimming. Your heart was pounding. “L…Let me think…”

“There’s no time.” Aemond insisted. “Once the coronation starts, Aegon will be King and that will be the end of it.” They will be divided. Those for Rhaenyra. Those for his brother. And Aemond did not trust his brother or family not to ruin this for him. Just as Daemon would have her taken from him, his mother and family would do the same. He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t bear to give up one more thing for Aegon’s happiness. “Say you’ll be mine. Say you will be my wife. Say you’ll stay here with me and we will be here together. Tell me that you want that.”

“I do.”

The words leave your mouth without you even realizing it. You had spent so long imagining a future with Aemond. He was your intended. He was your future. You loved him, but you also loved your mother & your family.

Aemond doesn’t recognize your distress though and swooped in to kiss you passionately. The two of you had kissed before. Brief, as children, to see what it was like. Then again before you left as a sort of parting gift. Then once final upon your return as a welcome home and back in his arms. It had never been like this before. Aemond, for all his hard edge, was gentle and shy with you. Now, however, he kissed you like a man who meant to consume you. Taking you into his body, instead of the other way around, so you could never leave him. When he broke away from you your vision swam. Righting itself after a few deep breaths but all you could see was Aemond.

“Undress.” You blink up at him in shock. “If we do this now, there’s nothing they can do.”

You realize Aemond wants not just your words but your chastity. As a sign of good faith. He wants to consummate your marriage before your vows. Cart before the horse. Everyone would have no choice but to accept your marriage now, or your side would risk the news that you were no longer a maiden and rumors Aemond was no more than a craven opportunist who would force himself of a captured princess.

You gulp. Feeling your tears bead up again in your eyes. This was not how you pictured your life with Aemond starting. This was not the dream you were meant to share. But dreams often fall short of reality.

For Aemond’s part, he also swallowed the lump in his throat and began to undress. Paying no mind to the habitual work of undoing his jerkin and belts to look at you. He hadn’t thought much on his marriage before your return. Save that he would do it and try his best. He would do his duty and have you give the realm more Targaryen blood to reign and treat you as honorably as he could. But on the few times he did think of his marriage, he would think of the wedding and your wedding night. How he would take his time with you. Appreciate you, the way you should be appreciated as a lady, as a Targaryen royal, and as his wife. But that was all gone. They will not have time for sweet words and sweet moments. That will have to come later now. Just another thing taken from him.

You feel embarrassed to be standing naked in from of Aemond. Your hands hopelessly trying to cover your modesty. Fretful glances around as if some septa in the shadows was going to jump out and cast shame on you. “Lie on the bed.” You do as you’re beckoned and lay down. Stiff. Ridged. Your hands balled into fists at your sides to keep them from flying up and covering you again.

Aemond watched all of this and did not look pleased. Still, he climbed onto the bed on top of you, and you try to sink further into the mattress to instinctually get away. “I will try to be gentle.” His words certainly were. You relax as a bit of the Aemond you knew came back into his voice and nuzzle against the hand on your cheek. “But this may hurt. It is not my intention. None of this…this wasn’t what I wanted.”

You know he doesn’t mean ‘this’ in general, but how this has come about. “I know.” You were both doing something neither of you wanted in order to get what you did want. What was love without sacrifice?

“It should only be this time. And I swear I will never hurt you again. Please, do not hate me.” You touch Aemond’s cheek in return. You could never hate him. Be cross with him. Snap and bite at him from time to time, but never hate him. He must know that.

He nuzzled into your palm as you did his and rested there for a moment with his eye closed. He then nodded, opened it, and his hand was no longer touching your cheek but the sacred spot between your legs.

You jump at the touch with a sharp hiss. Trying to crawl out from under Aemond but blocked by the pillows. He held you back. Shushing you as he continued his touching. “It’s only this time.” He reminded you. And you try to remain calm and still as he kept going.

Aemond needed no proof that you were a maiden. Your trust and faithfulness was all he needed to know that you would not break the arrangement between you; although he had not been so chaste, but he was a man. When he touched you, however, it was clear that no one had been there before him. Your entrance was tight around his finger. Nearly barring him out. He wanted to tell you to relax, but felt he had no place for it. ‘Yes, my love, relax. Don’t think about the fact that you are about to lose your chastity to a brute. Or that my family is usurping yours. Don’t think about the fact that this still may not work and you have thrown everything away for a hairbrained plan of a desperate man who just doesn’t want to be alone.’ Yes. Those were the sweet words every girl wanted to hear on her ‘wedding night’.

He removed his finger from her entrance, bringing it up to his mouth to lick two then pushing both back in. You whine. Feeling your entrance stretch to an uncomfortable level of accommodation. Your mother had been very forthcoming on what to expect from your wedding night, although she had been clear she wished it to be far in the future. She let you know that there would be pain. That there would be times that it felt like it wasn’t worth it. But it was your duty as a wife, and, with the right man, it could be quite enjoyable. You knew what she meant now as you felt your apex burn. When would the ‘quite enjoyable’ start?

By the third finger inside you, you had gnawed on your bottom lip so hard you were drawing blood. Aemond said nothing. Just watched you. He seemed terrified to do anything than what he was doing. Finally, his fingers came free of you and shifted above you. "You need to spread your legs." They had instinctively closed when he pulled from you and you blush as you do as he says. "Please do not hate me."

You had thought your apex burned when his fingers were inside you, but if that was the case then your whole pelvis was on fire when he pushed inside you. Your hands fly up to claw at Aemond's back as you let out a wordless scream when he split you & your maidenhead open. "Stop! Wait, wait! It hurts!"

"I know." His words are apologetic as he offers you a kiss on the cheek but does not pull out. "Just bear with it for me."

He stopped long enough to give you time to adjust. Try to relax. Anything. Then he pulled his cock out and slid it back in. Your teeth grit at the pain. It’s not as bad as you thought, after the initial shock. It does hurt, but to hear people talk about it it was the same as losing a limb. You fell off Stormsheild once when you were a little girl. Bruised something fierce from the fall. That hurt worse than this, but it was no less uncomfortable.

Aemond tried to take this as slow as he could for you. He knows this is not how a maiden expects to become a woman. Some hard fast thing to be done with and move on. But the clock was ticking. They had very little time left before the coronation and the ceremony started. It needed to be finished before then.

That’s what he told himself.

In truth, he was a lost novice again inside you. Your warmth. Your tightness. Just…you. This was not how he pictured you being bonded to him, but he would be a liar if he said he wasn’t still elated that you were beneath him and soon all his.

He could feel his climax building. Unable to hold it back any longer. Aemond reached blindly for the knife at the side of your bed, as no true Targaryen would ever go to sleep without a blade at their side, and sliced your hand open. You cry out finally. Having kept your jaw tight the whole time you were doing this in order to not scream and turn wild eyed toward Aemond to ask him what the hells he was doing, only to see him cutting his own hand. He threw the knife away to the side and linked your hands together. His eye turned to you. Holding you there for a moment before he kissed you deeply to fully seal your bond. A Valyrian bond.

With the pain redirected to your hand, you can finally feel Aemond inside you with some joy. It’s not pleasurable, but it’s not painful. Your head swam at the realization that he was inside you, he was kissing you, that he was all around you until suddenly Aemond’s hips stopped and you realized that there was more than just his cock inside you.

He let your lips go after that. Panting with you. Sweaty. Whole. You hiss sharply when Aemond pulled out of you. The pain returning to your center from your hand. Still bloody, sheets bloody, why did there have to be so much blood for this?

Aemond sat up and ripped a corner of the sheets into two clean strips. One for you and one for him. He wrapped your hand first and then his own, before he pulled you close to him on the ruined bedding. “Are you alright?”

You shrug against him. Your maidenhood was sore. Your hand was throbbing. Your mother was about to be tossed aside and you were still technically a prisoner in your childhood home. You weren’t sure how to answer that question.

“I will have to go. For the ceremony.” Aemond doesn’t want to talk about it, but he does have to go. Must show a united front for the kingdom. “I’ll come back later. To check on you.”

“Will I be allowed to leave?” You ask him. That question had still not been answered.

“After it’s over we’ll go talk to my mother and King Hand.” A name you both gave his grandfather as children to tease him, in secret of course. It wasn't nearly as funny as you remembered now. “You are under my protection now. I will keep you safe.”

Safe. How strange that word sounded now. You had felt safe with your parents. You had felt safe within these walls. You had felt safe with Aemond. But all of that had suddenly changed. What was 'safe' now?

Aemond dressed quickly, then came over to you again. Tentative, shy even, he came over to give you a brief peck on the lips. Like the ones you used to give as children. “I will come back.” He promised again. “Everything will be alright.”

Then he was gone. You were alone. You pulled your knees to your chest, despite the pain in doing so, and look out your window. Maybe the other princesses stayed in the tower because they had no choice too.

[silveryclear]

MOJABI GHOST

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara X Ex Female Reader

CW: NSFW, Cunnilingus, Thigh and Knee Riding, Bilingual Dirty Talk, Penetration, Rough Sex, Needy, Desperate Sex, Mating Press, Cockwarming

Description: Miguel drops by your apartment after he can’t stand the silence of his penthouse. He misses you, and tonight, you’ll see just how much~

Translation done by yours truly~

Song: “MOJABI GHOST” by Tainy, ft. Bad Bunny

Smoking,

Drinking,

Fucking,

Pretending that I don’t think about you.

I don’t who I’m trying to kid,

For this feeling,

Won’t let me sleep.

And I wish,

I wish, that I could dream peacefully,

That I could dream about you.

Another night alone. Another night without you.

Miguel O'Hara looks over view of Nueva York while drinking from his third glass of whiskey on the rocks; rocks that have melted and diluted the drink that has been abandoned for thoughts about you.

The truth is that Miguel has abandoned many things because of his mind— the treacherous bitch does not stop thinking about you.

Who could ever stop thinking about you, is the question that he should be asking. But he doesn't. And he’s well aware why.

Because that would require him to accept the reality that he fucked up the only thing that had given him happiness and warmth after what had happened with his daughter. And once again, it’s something that he doesn’t allow himself to forgive.

At first, you were only a hindrance, an annoyance which he could not get rid of. You were always looking at him with that sweet expression, ready to face the next anomaly with a smile and good attitude. He couldn’t stand you. The fact that you could face every problem and tragedy, a particular characteristic of spiderpeople, without your spirit being corrupted ... he hated it. He hated it to death.

Yet, observe how easy it is for him to lie. Because in reality, he never hated you. How could he hate the one person who received him with such a unique and special warmth and affection— the woman who, one by one, took down each one of his walls, making them crumble to the ground and fall as he did when he fell in love with you. Although, too late.

He lets out a dry laugh. There is no doubt that he is Spider-Man: the people he loves never stay for long.

Isn't that how he ended up here in the first place?

He sighs, exhausted. I don't want to think anymore.

He takes a swig from the whiskey and frowns, letting out a sound of disgust from the watered down drink and decides to get back into the penthouse. He looks around.

And now what?

Fuck this pity party. Miguel may not be in his five senses at the moment, but he doesn’t think twice before activating his nanotech suit and traveling to your dimension. He doesn't know what is the right to do; If you prefer your space, that he never contacts you again. All he knows is that he cannot stand this purgatory; and that your screams and curses are better than the overwhelming silence of his apartment.

As soon as he steps out of the portal into your apartment, you can already sense each other. It is almost impossible to sneak up on a Spider person, that's why he isn’t surprised when he finds you sitting in your living room, staring at him without blinking.

"What are you doing here?" You ask without emotion after several seconds of silence.

"You know what I came for." he says as he removes his mask and approaches your figure. However, your cold look stops him in his tracks.

“I don't care. I want you to say it.” you say while you stare into his eyes sharply. He deserves it. "Be direct for once in your life."

"Hey," he warns, baring his fangs. “Don’t push it.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms, ignoring his warning. "Then leave. I was clear: don't come back until you tell me how you really feel.”

"Don't you think I want to?!" Miguel shouts, frustrated; Not with you. Never with you. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, controlling his anger. When he opens his eyes, you’re surprised to see actual remorse. "I'm dying to have you in my arms again..."

You can’t help to soften your expression when you caught the frustration in his voice and how difficult it is to express his true emotions at the moment. "Then why the hesitation?" You ask softly, your voice a sweet melody to his ears. Then, a sudden thought makes your blood run cold. “...unless I wasn’t good enough for you.” Your voice trembles and you can't suppress the tears that arise.

Miguel’s face falls and without thinking twice, he runs to you and hugs you tightly, snaking an arm around your waist and his hand behind your neck. He listens as you sob into chest and he brings you even closer, his hand gently stroking your back. "Shh... no, my love, that can’t be further away from the truth." He whispers softly into your ear. "I am the one who’s not good enough for you."

Miguel lets out a dry, incredulous laugh. “I'm the worst… to cause the most wonderful woman in all of the multiverse to think the opposite…” He presses a kiss against your forehead and brings you closer to him. "You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Please, forgive me for being such a coward.” He murmurs apologetically as he buries his face into your neck and breathes in your scent.

God, how I missed this smell~

He leans back and stares into your eyes, stroking your cheeks and wiping your tears.

"I love you," he declares, more confident than ever. "I don't want to keep loving you from afar. I don’t want to run away, fearing that one day I will lose you if it also keeps you far from my arms.” He presses his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and whispering the last few words full of emotion, "If I still lose you...”

"God, Miguel..." You crumble once again and hug him tightly. "I love you so much," you confess in the midst of tears. "I’m afraid too, we are both spider people, we both risk our lives to prevent Multiverse from collapsing… our job is dangerous and it is painful to think about the great possibility that I could lose you,” You look into his eyes, holding his face in your hands. "But it hurts more to have you so close, and not by my side."

"I know..." He whispers as he leans towards your sweet touch. “I'm such an idiot. I thought I was protecting you from the pain, but in reality, I hurt you even more.” He stares into your eyes, his gaze full of remorse. "You could forgive this fool in love?"

You laugh softly and Miguel swears that his heart skipped a beat. Suddenly, you look at him with a mischievous smile. "Hmm, I don't know..."

Miguel groans and looks at you with desperation, as if he needed to hear that he has been forgiven to be calm. "Love, please..." He whimpers softly against your neck, kissing it sensually.

Your grin becomes wider and playful. You take his chin and make him look into your eyes. "But you sound so nice, Miguelito~” You purr. “Do it again~”

Shit...

Miguel feels how his cheeks redden and he short circuits when he hears your playful and dominant voice. It was a side of you that he had never seen. Or rather, one he never tried to get to know. He was so obsessed with controlling everything that he never realized that he kept you from expressing yourself around him.

Damn ... he definitely deserves to beg to you.

"My love..." He kneels in front of you and takes your hands in his. He looks at you with pleading eyes. "Please, I beg you... Forgive me. Let me show you how sorry I am.”

You feel your cheeks heat up at the sight of the most stoic and stubborn man in the multiverse kneeling in front of you, begging like a dog. Is this a dream? More like a miracle.

"Wow... You really missed me, didn't you, Miguelito~?"

Miguel takes your hand and kisses your palm, staring into your eyes. "You have no idea." He whispers. Your heart skips a beat, blood rushing through your veins at an extreme speed. You feel the love that this man has for you and you cannot avoid the genuine smile that grows in your face.

You place your arms around his neck and you kiss his cheek. "I forgive you. Show me exactly how sorry you are~"

It takes Miguel less than two seconds before he is on top of you, your back on the sofa while his knee separates your legs. It seems as if all your confidence disappears as soon as Miguel touches you, his large hands gripping your waist. You feel tempted to deviate your gaze, but his crimson eyes keep you paralyzed under their intensity, full of lust.

"Oh baby..." he lets out a soft growl as his lips brush against your neck, making you shiver once more. “Eres mía~” (You’re mine~)

His fingers quickly disrobe you, his lips kissing every inch of your soft skin. His breathing quickens, breathing hot and heavy as his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, hand groping the other. He lets out soft grunts and moans of pleasure as he worships your chest, sucking and biting, leaving wet hot marks on your skin.

You grab onto his hair, your back arching off from the couch as he continues his assault. He lets out a particularly long groan when he feels you grind your wet pussy on his knee. He chuckles darkly and presses onto you even harder, making you shiver and moan in delight.

“That’s it mami…” he growls, his breath hot and heavy against your neck. “Grind that needy pussy on me… make yourself feel good.”

A sound of pleasure escapes from your lips. You close your eyes and decide to immerse yourself in the pleasure that both have refused for too long— no longer wanting to deprive your body of what it craves; and your heart from the one you love.

Your arms wrap around his neck, hips bucking against his clothed knee, soaking the nanotech fabric. He can only watch in awe how easy it was to reduce you to a sensitive mess— rubbing and pressing his thigh against your throbbing pussy, gripping your hips tighter as he guides you.

“Oh fuckkkk… Miguel…” The way you so readily give your body to him— it awakens a primal side to him that even he didn’t realize he had. The need to explore how many times he can make you cum without fucking you with his cock had his mind reeling from the possibilities.

Should he finger you now? Should he make you cum on his tongue? Ride his face?

“Miguel… oh Miguel~” you mewl, the squelching sound of your juices on his leg echoing in the room. Small puffs of hot air leave past your lips, your hips bucking so needy and desperate for friction.

However the night ends, what he does know is that he so desperately craves to hear you whine his name like that again.

“Come on, cariño…” he keeps rutting your hips against his thigh, now unclothed as his dick strains against the nanotech clothing that covers his groin. “What do you need~?”

“Need you…” You pant out, chest heaving rapidly. “Need you inside… please Miguel~”

He chuckles darkly. “Already? But baby, we just started~” He teases, slowing down the rubbing against your clit, making you whine in frustration.

“Fuck that! I missed you, maldito!” You growl, making Miguel’s eyes widen when you voice out your frustrations.

This makes Miguel chuckle heartedly, gazing down at you with affection and primal lust. “You missed my cock that much, baby~?”

“Not your cock. You.” This startles Miguel, actually making him blush. His chest fills with so much love and affection for you. God, he needs you so badly.

“Te amo, mi arañita…” (I love you, my little spider…) Miguel murmurs softly before leaning down and claiming your lips softly. A low moans escape from your lips as you feel just how serious he is. “Missed you… missed your touch…” he breathes out against your neck once he pulls away, his lips brushing against your skin. Miguel shivers and groans, loving the way your warm, soft skin feels against his. You can only watch as he worships you, too paralyzed by this feeling to speak. “Missed your smell…” he inhales your scent softly before pressing a kiss on your neck. “Missed your voice… let me hear it please…”

“Ahhhh… Miguel…” you find your voice, breathing out your response as your chest rises and falls rapidly, trembling underneath him.

“Fuck…” he groans from your needy voice. Miguel trails wet kisses down your hot skin, licking away your sweat. His fangs lightly graze your thighs, teasing you with his tongue. He chuckles when you arch your back, whimpering his name, begging to take you— to do something already!

He grins as he kisses the inside of your thigh. “You’ve never been very patient.”

You whine, your hand making it’s way to his hair and tugging him closer to your throbbing pussy. He chuckles and licks a long, agonizing swipe along your glistening folds, making you groan in response. “Good thing I’ve never been very patient either~”

Miguel takes his time, swirling his tongue, lapping up your juices— yet, the way that he grips your thighs, so close to digging his claws into your skin while he groans from your taste— it only makes him look more desperate and feral than when he first begged for you.

You jolt and shiver in delight, the drag of his fat, warm tongue bringing you to heights of pleasure you only had the joy of experiencing with Miguel. The feelings of pleasure were so delicious and excruciating, it makes you buck your hips against his face. You grind your pussy on his face unashamedly, his nose brushing against your clit deliciously.

Watching from below, how your hips arch and you tug harder on his hair is all that Miguel needed to die happily. His groans and harsh breathing muffled by your desperate grinding.

“Mmm… shlppp… mmnh…” His eyes remain trained on your cute expressions, a particularly harsh suck of your clit eliciting a whiny moan from you that had him reeling.

“Fuck… Miguel…! I’m so close!” You whine so pretty and needy. His claws digging dig into your thighs, pressing his face harder against your cunt as he eats you out like an animal.

Miguel moans against your cunt, murmuring for you to cum on his tongue, to do it now. It comes out a wet, muffled mess, but you didn’t care. You were already a moaning mess as you came, spreading your juices all over Miguel’s face. His tongue works on your core like a man dying of thirst, lapping up every drop of your juices and overstimulating the fuck out of you. He never came up for air, submerged between your thighs, delving his tongue deeper, sucking harder. This is where he belongs.

“Mi— Miguel! It’s too much..!” You whine, trying to push his head away but he’s glued to your pussy— and he’s not moving until he’s licked you clean.

After a few more seconds, he gives your pussy one last lick before he comes back up, his tongue hanging out as he smiles smugly. You twitch and writhe underneath him from the overstimulation, gazing at him with a satisfied and dazed expression. He tantalizingly drags his long tongue around his mouth, lips, chin… cleaning up your cum from his face, making sure you watch. “Dios mío, que rico sabes mami~” (My god, you taste delicious mami~)

You whimper, your hole twitching at the erotic display. Miguel watches as your pussy flutters with primal lust, smiling at you like a predator. “You liked that, baby? Do you still want more?”

Before you could respond, Miguel is on top of you, claiming your lips in a hot, sensual kiss. You groan at the taste of yourself on his lips, this only turning you on even further. He grips your ass, bringing your wet core towards his now fully unclothed and erect cock.

“Mmmngh… mmnh… ahhhhh…” You whimper into the kiss as he grinds his cock against your sensitive folds, spreading your juices all over.

“You want this cock, baby? Huh? I can’t hear you. Tell me how badly you want me. Tell me. Tell me how badly you want me to fuck you.” Miguel whispered into your ear as he kept grinding himself against you, teasing you once again. You can only cry out, frustration building up inside of you as you feel your hole squeezing against nothing, craving his thick cock.

“Please… Miguel…”

“Dime lo que quieres preciosa… ¿quieres que te lo meta? ¿Sí? ¿Quieres que te coja?” (Tell me what you want, precious… you want me to put it in? Yeah? You want me to fuck you?)

“Yes, Miguel! Just… please!”

As much as he loves teasing you, he needed to nestle his cock inside of you. Right. Now.

“M’gonna bury this cock deep inside you… make sure your pussy remembers the shape of my cock…” He chuckles as he lines himself up with your hole and slowly pushes his cock past that first, tight ring inside your cunt. “Fuck… such a tight fit… bet you didn’t fuck anyone with a dick as big as mine…” he groans and pushes further. “no other cock can stretch you out like mine can…”

“No one… only you…” you breathe out in satisfaction as you finally feel your pussy getting full. “M’so full…”

Miguel lets out a string of curses and groans at the feeling of your tight pussy pulsating around him. “Yeah, that’s right baby… only my cock can fill you up this good.” He smirks as he looks down at you, caged between his arms and large body. “Gonna let me fuck this pussy, huh? Want me to pound you until you can’t think?”

“Yes, Miguel! Yes!”

That’s all the confirmation he needed before he started rutting his hips against yours at a fast pace. No time to start slow, no. This is the type of desperate and primal sex that lovers have after they’ve gone a long time without seeing each other. The type that builds up overtime only to be released in the heated thrust of each other’s hips. The type that has you moaning out gibberish and wrapping your arms and legs around him as Miguel thrusts his hard cock inside, going feral on your pussy.

“Fuck… I missed this… I missed you…” Miguel grunts with every thrust, small puffs of air leaving his lips as he ruts even faster, deeper. His muscles flex with every movement. He presses his hot body against yours, feeling your tits brush against his chest with every thrust.

“M-Miguel… please… harder!” You moan, digging your nails into his broad back.

“Yes…” his voice is so rough, so hungry that it’s almost jarring. Every word he says, every look on his face seems to radiate his intense feelings for you.

He needs you, oh, does he need you.

His arms are like steel on your body, keeping you still within his grasp, and he makes you feel every inch of him, pounding himself into you in a frenzy. This is what he had been looking for, needing. He fills your entire existence for just a moment, completely and utterly enraptured by you.

“Te amo… te amo tanto…” (I love you… I love you so much…) he whispers into your ear, biting and sucking on it. One of his hands makes its way between your legs as he rubs your clit. “Ven conmigo, bebé… I need you to cum with me…” (Come with me, baby…)

“Miguel! Ohh… I’m g- Mmm… Ahhhh~!” Your moans are muffled by his lips against yours. The pounding of his cock, his thumb rubbing your pussy, and this hot, searing kiss was all you needed to finally let go. Squelching hot cum bathes Miguel’s cock and balls as you tremble and writhe in ecstasy.

“That’s it, baby… god, you did so good…” he groans, placing your forehead against his as he ruts his hips faster. Grunting as he chases his own release. Not long after, Miguel is cumming inside your pussy, spurting hot loads of his cum so deep you can feel it in your womb. The moans he lets out sound so raw and desperate, you feel like you’re watching a whole other person.

He sighs in satisfaction, pressing a kiss on your forehead before laying down besides you. He pulls you into his body, his cock twitching as he keeps it nestled deep inside your cunt.

“Fuck… I don’t think I’ve ever come this much…” Miguel lets out a breathy laugh and you look at him in awe. The afterglow of your session makes him look so… ethereal. You blush and involuntarily clench your pussy around his cock.

Miguel chuckles. “I felt that, preciosa~”

You roll your eyes and look away from him, flustered. “Then take it out!”

“Mmm… why should I~? I very much prefer having you close like this.” Miguel inhales in your scent and presses a tender kiss on your neck. The action flusters you further, making you blush at his sweetness and his opposing teasing.

“Te amo, mi vida…” (I love you, my life..) He whispers softly as he closes his eyes, bringing you closer into his embrace.

You smile softly and close your eyes as well, slowly dozing off. Not before you utter the same words back, “Te amo, Miguelito~”

.

.

.

.

A/N: A little fun fact: this fic was originally written in Spanish first because I wanted to practice writing (specifically smut) in my native language. I might end up posting both languages on AO3.

[hansolen]

one more love song?

pairing ⇾ luke castellan x hades’ daughter reader (gendered stuff isn’t mentioned anywhere in the post so it can be read as gn)

word count ⇾ 3k

summary ⇾ luke is a simp, tries to confess, you guys share earphones and sit near the lake at night. the moon loves you 🫶

author’s note ⇾ so most of this is just happened to be written as luke admiring the reader rather than what i was actually going to go for, but i’m really happy with how it turned out :) hope you enjoy it as well 💌 wrote this all in one setting. when inspo hits.. it hits like a truck 🚛 this one is for my quiet people, and maybe a little self indulgent. guilty as charged your honour. no use of y/n.

you had a thing for luke castellan, and he had a thing for you too. it was no secret to anyone. but none of the other campers understood why you both preferred to dance around each other’s feelings rather than addressing them. even though everyone could feel the immense tension you both carried around whenever you were near each other, no one chose to mention it. it would be like taking a gun and pointing the muzzle right at ones own head — it was a death sentence really, hearing you both deny it. so they all just went along with ignoring it like you both pretended to do.

you were the daughter of hades, the king of the underworld and part of the trinity. that definitely added a little intimidation to your already mysterious aura. luke on the other hand was a possessive guy, even if he didn’t show it. sure, he was extremely confident, and even a little egotistical - yes, but all for the right reasons of course (as per him). but he was possessive nonetheless. that’s why it killed him inside each day that he couldn’t call you his, and himself as yours.

he really didn’t like anyone else approaching you with any unwanted intentions. though, don't get him wrong, he's well aware that you could protect yourself. hell, you could protect the entire camp just by yourself alone, but still — he felt a pang of jealously whenever some apollo’s kid talked with you for too long. or when your discussions with some guy from the hephaestus’ cabin were too long. he knew that you guys were just discussing your plans for some of their inventions and how you could help by designing their ideas into structural sketches. afterall, you were good with sketches, a hobby of yours, those from cabin 9 made sure to utilise to their fullest. even though he knew it all, he still felt some unwanted feelings swirl inside him.

he wanted to confess to you, oh he wanted to do that so badly. but he just didn't know how to.. you didn't seem the kind who’d like the usual route. for the sake of olympus itself - you didn’t even send him any signs, other than meeting back his longing gaze with just as much passion. he knew there had to be something between you two. there’s no way it could be all in his head.

but you — you never tried to make the first move, shit, you didn’t make any moves at all. and luke knows he’s a confident guy, he knows he’s amazing and all that glory speech he gives around to the new comers but oh you. you just make him rethink it all. he doesn’t know how to act around you - he feels so different around you.

as if you put some kind of spell on him that makes him loose this carefully handcrafted personality, his façade. and he's back to being the kid he was - just trying to prove himself somehow in some way. but at least you never abandoned him.. nor did you ever make him feel unwanted. unlike his.. his dad. he doesn’t need to impress you, you’ve made that clear with your actions. but still he - he really wants to.

𓇚

he recalls back when you still pretended to be unclaimed and stayed at the hermes cabin. though later on (like a whole month later) everyone found out that you knew your dad was hades and you shifted to the newly made hades cabin. it happened in such a funny manner where you stated it to the suprised chiron like it was just another fun fact about you. totally not some very critical and important information. camp half-blood having a kid of one of the three and not just any but of hades, who was always so adamant on not sending his kids to camp that the gods had an entire incident regarding it. but here you were.

anyway that’s not the point. he just really liked you and had felt a pull towards you since the beginning. he observed you from afar during your first few weeks at camp. when it was your third week at camp and you had developed the constant habit of staying up every night and sneaking out. he followed, ofcourse he was just being a good head counselor. afterall till you were in the hermes cabin you were someone he had to make sure followed the rules or whatever. he didn’t care for that much, he just wanted to know what you were always up to.

you always hid away by the time he followed you out. he had made sure that this week, this day, he’d finally follow you without you hiding away in the shadows. of course you weren’t dumb either. you could feel another shadow added to the ones you were controlling, and you felt like having a little fun with the castellan boy. so you let him follow you. (and luke found out about that fact weeks later, and safe to say he was annoyed that he wasn’t slick enough. though he got back on you, he showed you just how smooth he could be during sword fighting practice. spoiler: by the end of the match you were under him with a sword pressed on your neck and his smirk making you feel things.)

back to what happened on your third week at camp - as he followed you he realised you were headed towards the lake. oh so this was your favourite spot. he looked at you from afar, you looked breathtaking.

the moonlight shined on your figure sitting by the lake. you were probably listening to some music, since you had your earphones in.

he held his breath, he wanted to carve this scene in his memory forever. you truly looked like a goddess, the serene view and a serene beauty (you). a perfect combination indeed.

after giving himself some pep talk mentally and encouraging himself to actually go to you, he finally did. and oh boy was he glad he did - because that was the start of your friendship, and something more.

he still fondly remembers how you smiled when he finally came and sat beside you.

“finally came out of your hiding spot, castellan?” you said in a light tone. “you knew?” he asked suprised, but not really. “i know everything that goes in the shadows.” you said and smiled while taking off one earphone and handing it out to him. he took it gratefully.

that day you shared an earphone with him and in return took a piece of his heart with you.

that was the beginning of whatever the hell was going on between you and luke castellan. he understood later on what you had meant by the shadows comment when a week later you had casually revealed who your father was and shifted cabins, much to luke’s displeasure.

but you guys remained friends nonetheless and continued to keep each other company on moonlit nights.

𓇚

he still remembers when you first came to camp. you were so eerily quiet. your presence drew him to you like a moth to a flame. your eyes felt like they held galaxies and whenever you met his gaze he felt his heart could explode. though you didn't smile often, but oh god’s when you did grin at some stupid lame joke he made, or when something silly happened, he just found himself falling deeper and deeper in love with you.

though he notices. he notices how you keep your smiles to yourself and put a hand over your mouth whenever you do laugh. the reason? he truly doesn’t understand. because why in the world would you do that? you’re the most gorgeous being to have graced this earth, why would you not let him get addicted to your smiles and the sound of your melodious laughter which is sweet like nectar and has the warmth of ambrosia. as he knew it was a rare sight, he made sure to capture the memory to replay it in his head whenever he misses you.

you're so beautiful to him and your presence is so comforting. the deathly touch your aura carries has makes it all the more breathtaking. oh he's in it bad. he knows it.

𓇚

both your secret meet ups began increasing as weeks went by. you both talked about everything under the sun (or the moon, in your case). and even though you weren’t much of a talker when you were in groups during the day, luke felt glad that atleast when you were with him you spoke your heart out.

you made him feel so much at ease. even with all his responsibilities at camp and his plans.. and everything else that eats up his soul — in moments such as these, he feels like just another teenage boy. not the kid who got abandoned by his parents, not the teenager who had to protect his friends and had to prove something to the gods, not the head counselor and the greatest swordsman to have been in 300 hundred years, but just- just another teenage boy, a boy in love. oh he loved you. so much.

and that's why he decided he was finally going to confess to you tonight. he was going to set up a beautiful moment and hold your hand while looking in your eyes and confess how much he adores you and finally ask you to be his.

he felt a little nervous, which is so unlike him. c’mon, he has fought innumerable monsters and survived so many deathly quests, how is finally telling you what he’s been wanting to since forever making him more nervous than either of those situations? oh the things you do to him..

when he reached there you were already sitting near the lake at your favourite spot. as soon as he came closer, you turned your head towards him with a soft smile and said, “hey you” “hey me” he replied. he doesn’t miss the way you put an automatic smile on his face, as he sits beside you. you both sit in comfortable silence, your bodies making contact from the shoulders. neither of you move away, finding comfort in one another’s presence and touch.

being a demigod was.. anything but a normal experience to say the least. but finding someone who makes you feel.. more closer to the human part of yourself was something not everyone could find. but you both were so glad you did with one another.

as moments passed by, luke felt you lean your head on his shoulder. he relaxed into your touch as he looked down at your face to find your eyes closed. he knew you weren’t sleeping, just resting. he found himself forming a small smile as he looked at you.

then he started, “you know, i wanted to tell you something today.” you hummed in response waiting for him to continue. “i..” he felt his throat dry up. it’s always so easy to talk to you, so why is it that right now he feels unable to form words? your presence is always so calm and serene so why does his heart feel like it’s going a million miles per hour?

“hey.. hey look at me” you said in your calm voice as you softly held his face. he met your eyes, and oh he swears he could just get lost in the galaxy that lays within your eyes. you look at him with you sweet smile and say, “you can tell me anything, you know?” “i know.” his reply is almost immediate. you just smile at that “then go on”.

he closes his eyes to compose himself. he knows that he doesn’t need to pretend with you. but he also wants to tell you everything he feels for you and how you’ve taken all over his body, mind and soul. but he can’t formulate them into words. he just— “i love you too castellan.” “what” “what? you were trying to confess right? i only helped you.” you said smiling softly at him. “i.. well i..” he was dumbfounded. he had thought of so many ways this would probably go and the many ways he could say it but you.. you said it first.

“is that a pout?” you ask with a giggle. he feigns offense, “i do not pout.” “oh that was definitely a pout.” you teased. “it wasn't.” “oh it so was.” he rolls his eyes. “whatever. i just wanted to make it romantic or something i don't know. i mean i even got you a cassette tape with songs i dedicated to you and—” “you dedicated songs to me? and got them in a cassette tape? how even- when did you get the time to get that done? did you go out of camp for-” you said suprise clear in your voice but he interrupted you. “well obviously i dedicate songs to you infact they were so many that i had to choose the best of the best. and how i got the cassette and the player is just part of the trade secrets, darling.” he winked. and you just giggled and kissed him.

luke had imagined kissing you before, but it was never as close to the real deal. he was addicted to say the least. your lips tasted so sweet and felt so soft. for being the kid with the aura of death, you sure brought back life to him.

by now you were on his lap with his arms wrapped around you. you both were just sitting on the grass and taking in each other's presence and feeling peaceful with how close your hearts were.

slowly you took out your earphones from your pocket and gave him one wire. “so, one more love song?”

© hansolen do not repost, translate and post anywhere else.

author's note ⇾ aand that's the end haha. hope you liked it <3 this is my first fic ever like everr and i didn't even think i’d be able to write something that i would actually wanna post, but something in me lit up when i saw my favourite childhood book series was finally getting the adaptation it deserved and then this came out of it <3 would love to know your thoughts on it.

[becomingmina]

FUCKBOY MIN. little series w/ LEEKNOW

18+ ONLY! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

pairing: lee minho x female reader genre + warnings: previous fkbuddy relationship, angst, smut mdni!, min is mean, oral (f recieving), semi-public (empty bathroom), hyunjin is a character wc: 3.4k mina's note: Minho is kinda mean. The way I would have done anything for him just so he can like me back. ❤️‍🩹

other works here ; any comments and thoughts you can drop them here ; ty for reading.

series chapter ➵ part two, part three ending one

"Isn't that Y/N?" Han asked looking over the older boy's shoulder.

Minho turns his head around and sees you amongst the crowd - of the very grand party he dreads. He feels himself tense up at the sight of you, he hasn’t seen you in a while and you looked as beautiful as ever. He can feel the corner of his lip turn up as he replays memories of him and you, and that’s when he realises he misses you.

But the feeling soon fades when he notices you’re with a guy. Only a month and you already found yourself a guy? Loud sweet giggles falls from your lips as you grip the man's biceps, laughing about nothings. He scoffs to himself as he recognises the man.

“Out of all the boys in this fucking city, she chose fucking Hwang Hyunjin?” Minho blurted, he was mad. “She’s got a type. Fuckboys,” he turns back around to Han and raises his brows, as if asking for him to agree with the statement.

“You’re not going to do anything right hyung?” Han nervously asked, knowing his hyung will definitely be doing something.

“She just looks too happy, Han. I gotta ruin it for her. Especially when it’s Hwang Hyunjin she’s fucking with,” Minho says before downing the rest of his drink and ditching the younger boy.

Minho met you a couple months ago at one of his mother’s grand get-together. He only came to these events in hopes to find a hook up or a quick fuck, he was never here to support his mom on what ever event-job-work-promotion she got herself into. He probably got with half of the girls who attended these parties with their rich parents.

“Imagine what your daddy would think of his sweet innocent daughter completely coming vulnerable underneath some guy she just met?” Minho would often whisper in their ears as he thrusts into them. He would say anything to get them to sleep with him then ghost them the next day, leaving them restless.

However you weren’t like any of these girls to him, well at first. Minho was addicted to you, he couldn’t put his finger on it but he kept coming back to you. After seeing you a few times, he proposed for you both to be fwb and you agreed, because to be very honest, Minho was hot and he was a great fuck, the best if you can say. Also, something about him felt very secure to you. Meaningless fucks turned into lingering kisses, then turned into secrets date nights. You both shared such gentle and heartfelt moments, like cooking dinner together to holding hands randomly. Minho became so romantic with you secretly, but he never sincerely voiced it. You fell for him. You wanted to do anything for him in hopes that he liked you back. You became obsessive, got restless, jealous that there was many other girls hovering around him. You wanted him to yourself, and it got to the point where you had pull him away one night, letting your tears run down your face as you admitted your feelings to him, intoxicated. And maybe because he never dealt with such heavy feelings and high emotions like this before that, he turned on you.

“Y/N, you're just like the other girls.. Maybe worse. Easy. Clingy. I would never like you back.. Are you crazy?" You couldn't believe it, he abandoned you. Minho ended up treating you just like all the other girls.

Now the other half of the girls that Minho didn’t hooked up with were probably sorted by Hwang Hyunjin. The city’s heartbreaker. Classic story of two best friends that now hates each other. Minho and Hyunjin grew up together, basically brothers due to their mother’s close friendship. But when the boys got older they grew apart. Times that was supposed be spent together catching up on a tv show or playing basketball turned into time spent with a girl trying to get her to undress underneath them. It was now a competition to see who played the most girls. Oh how toxic.

So when Minho saw you in the ballroom with Hyunjin, he assumed you two were sleeping together. Minho needed to get you alone before the end of the night.

He needed to ruin you, in order to ruin it for Hyunjin aswell.

“Should I get you another drink?” The long haired boy asked realising the glass in your hand was almost empty.

“I was actually eyeing the orange slices over there-” you pointed out, gesturing to the massive grazing table.

“-Mimosa?” He was quick to respond, tone so sweet and cheeky.

“You know me too well Hyunjin,” you smiled admiringly up at the boy.

“I’ll get the champagne, you get the oranges and we meet back here then,” he says, hints of his dorky smile showing.

You were finally alone.

"Hey baby," Minho speaks from behind you, his voice so deep, hands find their way to your hips sending chills down your spine. He used to call you that all the time, and your heart never fails to beat out of your chest from it.

Lee Minho. Why the hell was he behind you? Shouldn’t he breaking some poor innocent girl’s heart?

“I missed you.” You stood still at his words, unable to move.

No not this again.

"Minho, go away," you finally spoke, building up a wall that you know isn’t going to stay up.

"No. I need to talk to you baby. I missed you," he made sure you heard him, his hands now made its way higher to your waist. "You look so pretty tonight..” one hand rests on your waist as the other one slowly travels to your thigh. “I missed your pretty little body so much, baby,” his lips were so close to your face, the proximity is so familiar, so safe that you wanted to turn and press your lips on his. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Minho had you under his spell, his presence was all it took for you to consider him again. You lean back, head taking its place on his shoulder as your back pressed on his chest. You tilt your head up slowly, finally looking at him. Oh, he was so beautiful as ever. His cute little bunny teeth showing from his agape mouth, his pretty sparkly eyes looking down at you, and his sharp nose, which you remember you use to peck so much. You missed him so much, you couldn’t resist it anymore.

“Min.” You say in the most vulnerable tone ever, gripping his forearm, giving in to him. He smiles at the nickname, the nickname only you were allowed to call him by.

"Come with me," and with that he yanked your arm dragging you through the crowd, for sure going to leave Hyunjin confused when he comes back.

Minho pulled you into an empty bathroom and pressed you against the door after locking it, instantly smashing his lips on to yours. His lips feels so soft against yours and your body hasn’t felt this rush of adrenaline in a while that you were going insane. Already feeling yourself start to go wet, you were so bothered, you needed more. Your teeth clashes as he practically devours you, his hand hoists one of your leg over his hip.

“Need you on the counter, bunny,” he murmured in between the kisses, there goes the nicknames again. He carries you to the counter, helping you up, your legs immediately spreading for him to slot himself in between. His hand slips underneath your dress, brushing against your clothed core.

“Already so wet for me,” he smirks, feeling the patch on your panties. “Can I?” He asked tapping his finger twice on your core. You nodded throwing your head back and he accepts the invitation to suck on your neck, leaving marks. Minho’s fingers pulls your panties to the side, his pointer finger finally runs through your folds. You were so warm, so sticky already that Minho let out a moan into your neck, unable to control the pleasure he was also having. You jolted forward when his fingers finally entered you pumping you slowly, causing him to let out an airy scoff. “Need to taste, let me taste?” You nod again knowing every time Minho ate you out, he would reward you with his dick for being such a good girl. You wanted that again.

“Need to hear you say it, Y/N,” he stops his movements, to brush your hair out of your face adoring your features.

Verbal consent has always been a big thing to Minho. He has so much control when the other person expresses what they want. It feeds into his already massive ego seeing the other person submit to him, makes him feel like he was in winning. And right there and then when he asked that question he wanted you to submit, so he can feel bigger than Hyunjin.

“Yes, please Min. I want it,” you gave him exactly what he wanted. You missed this. You missed his body and how he fucked you, how he made love to you. You miss Minho. You miss how sweet and gentle he was. How he would text you if you got home okay after spending the entire day with him. How innocent and lovely he can be talking about his cats, his hobbies. You wanted him to like you back, to want you back that you were willing to let him do anything to you, to use you.

“You’re still so good baby,” he buttered you up pressing a kiss your lips once more, letting it linger on a bit before dropping to his knees. He bundles your thin long dress around your waist, pulling down your soaked panties and burying them deep in his pocket. He is met with your pretty pussy, glistening with arousal. Your scent takes him by surprise and he goes numb. Oh, how he remembers it all so well, he would spend forever in between your legs on a Sunday afternoon. He parts your thighs and moves his face closer to your cunt, finally sliding his tongue in your slit. You still taste as sweet as ever too and that was all it took for Minho to devour you, to eat you out like a starved man. You lean back on one hand and the other one finds its place in Minho’s hair keeping it there. He was so good with his tongue, alternating between giving fat stripes, kitten licks and harsh sucks on your clit. Minho was getting you closer to your orgasm. Moans and whimpers falls from your lips as you allow him to hear how good he is making you feel.

“Feels good baby? You still taste so sweet, I just know you’re still going to be so tight." he removes himself from you just so he can glance up at your fucked out state nodding to every word he was saying.

“Want to- to cum,” you needed to cum, you were on the verge of tears feeling the tension in your stomach start to fade..

“Hm?”

“Please, I want to cum Min,” you restates and he dives back down. He grips your thighs as he makes out with your pussy, his nose hitting your clit every now and then to get you going again. Minho picks up his pace, moving his kisses to your clit where he then sucks harshly earning a sharp moan from you. You jolt forward, thighs closing around him, throwing your head back as you spray Minho with your sweet release. You feel him smirk against your pussy, his mouth and chin coated in your arousal. That wasn’t enough for you, you wanted more. Your hand pushes his head further into your cunt as you grind down in his nose, riding out your high. Minho lets you use him, his tongue still overstimulating you until you were satisfied. Frankly, he found it hot how after just one taste you go feral for him.

He licks his lips cleaning himself off as he gets up from your legs, helping you pull down your dress. He cages you between his hands that are now resting on the counter, you don’t move. Just staring up at him, he examines your features again, taking all everything that he used to adore. Something about this moment just feels so innocent to both of you, that Minho can help but give you small giggles, his lips turning into a smile. You mirror it in return, sitting in silence as you both recalls the old times.

A sudden buzz of your phone causes you both to snap out of the sweet moment, heads turning to the device next to you on the counter. And Minho grows hot, his reputation overshadowed his feelings for you the second he saw Hyunjin’s name pop up. He lets out a scoff, remembering why he got you in this bathroom in the first place.

Minho's leans in slowly, one hand still gripping on the counter but the other comes up close to your face. Your phone forgotten now. You think he's about to kiss you but he dodges your lips, making his way by your ears as he lets out an airy chuckle, he sounded so cocky you were taken by surprise at his sudden change in demeanour.

"God, Y/N. You're still so easy," His tone deep aiming an attack on you as he reaches for the paper towel dispenser behind your head. He pulls out a towel throwing it to you, to clean yourself up. "Still so desperate for me". It broke you. He has never done this to you before, usually he'll be on after care and cleaning up. Your head snaps to his face, taking in his smirk and dark eyes. You swallow hard, a salty taste coat your tongue and you realise you're trying you best to not cry.

“Are you this desperate for Hyunjin too?” you furrowed your brows together in response. What?

“Hmm?” You asked confused.

“You got a type Y/N, you’re so pathetic.” He continues, the vibrating of your phone doesn't help but fuels his anger.

"Min, what do you mean?" It was clear to you that Minho and Hyunjin weren’t the best of friends when you meet with Minho. But that night when Minho abandoned you, Hyunjin witnessed the whole thing. He help you get up, covering you with his his coat, wiping away your tears and took you home.

"What are you doing here with Hwang Hyunjin?" he finally asked. But you don't respond, instead you hop off the counter, unable to control how hurt you are from his previous act. Your eyes sparkle, cheeks pink, lips trembling. He takes in your reaction, making him feel a bit guilty as he has seen this all before. The night you admitted your feelings.

"You guys fucking?" this time his tone and eyes soften, it was like he needed to confirm it first before continuing to take out his anger and tension on you. You reach for your phone but he snatches before you could, declining the call sliding it across the counter where you can’t reach.

"Does he fuck you as good as I do?" He moves in closer, your noses barely touching. "He treats you better than I do?" You stay quiet.

You didn't know what to answer. Do you lie? Do you teel the truth? Regardless at the end of this Minho isn't coming back to you right? You realised the moment he called you pathetic.

He moves in to kiss your cheek, a gentle peck. Your heart starts to race even more, unable to look him in the eyes. One hand comes up to hold your face, thumb rubbing against your cheeks. "Come on baby, tell me and I'll give you what you want," his lips comes in contact with yours. You melt into the kiss, your hands grasping the waist band of his trousers. Snap out of it, Y/N. "Hmm, you going to be good and tell me? He kisses you better than I do?" He kisses you harder, helping you back up the counter. He takes back his initial position, in-between your legs. Minho moves his kisses down your neck as his hands advances to your shoulders, pulling the thin straps down exposing your chest. He gulps at the sight and latching his lips onto your boob, his hand groping the other one. You tired your hardest not to give in but you cant, the feeling is too strong. You whimper at the contact, your hand palming his hard on through his pants. It was the first time you touched him that night and Minho throws his head back, unable to control the sexual frustration.

"Fuck- see what you do to me, baby?" He coos. You undo his belt, pulling his trousers along with his boxer down, meeting with his big cock. He was already so red, a bead of pre cum already spilling frim his tip. You grab the base of his cock, holding it firmly giving him a gentle pump. Just like the way you always did. Fuck Y/N I missed this so much. Minho finds himself addicted again as he shuts his eyes, a little moan slipping from his lip. You continue to pump him and he tries his best not to give into you but your hands felt so good, he could cum like this. You lean forward attaching your lips to his neck, leaving marks just like he did to you before. “Want you Min,” you whimper on his skin. You needed to feel him inside you.

"Answer me first, Y/N." He was getting irritated at your lack of answer. God, why are you so caught up on this Minho! Your phone rings again, the buzzing noises incites his thought, and that was the breaking point for him. Hwang Hyunjin. Only Y/N would want such a pathetic man like him. "I'm not fucking you if you’re dirty Y/N," he says and you halt your movements, completely removed yourself from him.

"What?" You replied. Minho is now faced with your confused face.

"You're so desperate Y/N. I can’t believe you’re with Hyunjin right after I left you? You're so dirty for that,” Minho repeat himself moving closer to you to provoke you, he was sure you had given yourself to the other bloke. Your lack of answer confirmed it for him too. “Did you fuck Hyunjin?" But he was determined to hear it.

You took a deep sigh, and all the names and remarks he had made to you tonight flooded your head. You’re hurt. God, Y/N you are pathetic. You wanted to turn this on him but you couldn’t. Regardless of what you answer, you couldn’t win and Minho won’t be yours.

"No I didn't because I love you, Min," you confessed, pushing him off you. You proceed to pull up your dress and jump off the counter. You needed to leave him.

You brushed past him retrieving your phone and bag, unlocking the door and walking out.

Leaving him the way he left you, abandoned. Although it was your feelings that he disregarded, leaving him while he was hard and sexually unsatisfied like this would have hurt the same for a fuck boy like him.

But Minho wasn’t hurt by that. Your words was the thing that stung him. Shes loves me? No one had ever done this to Minho, he didn't know what to do. Such a similar feeling to how you felt - when he ghosted you and just now.

His words still played in your mind, they're still lingering around you. You wanted to sob, cry your heart out but you couldn't just yet, only allowing the tears to build in your eyes. Did you really just let him treat you like that? You chose pleasure again instead of protecting your already broken heart. Minho was right, you are fucking easy. You see the exit through your blurry vision and you rushed to it, pushing into the many people that was just crowding around. Just as you're about to leave a hand pulls you back.

"Y/n, you okay?" You turned around to meet with Hyunjin, and you couldn't help but burry your face in his chest as you let your tears fall.

"I hate him," you cried loudly, your whole body shaking and your legs go numb. Hyunjin hugs you, both arms wrapped around you tightly as he lets you become completely vulnerable. You were safe with him.

"I know.. Let's go home."

[natailiatulls07]

Can you do reader is Lando’s little sister and favourite but they barely see each other cause reader is at boarding school and she surprises him at the race. Also cameo of some other drivers too please.

Lando Norris x sister!reader

Summary - Request above xo

Warning - Like one swear one

-

During her last year of primary education, Cisca and Adam both sat their youngest child down and discussed the possibility of boarding school. 

Both knew it would be hard for the whole family to separate. Yet they both also knew that it would make their lives a lot easier. 

With Landos up and coming career in motorsport racing and the rest of their children's careers also slowly building up, neither parent wanted to deprive or abandon Y/n. So with her agreement, they enrolled her into a well reviewed and well known boarding school a few miles out of Bristol. 

Laurence Crawford Boarding.

The first few days, of course she was homesick. Missing Lando more than anyone else in the family. Of course. But eventually Y/n made friends and was becoming more and more independent by the day.

-

“Hey Mum!” The young girl giggled down the phone. She was in her shared dorm with a few friends when Cisca called. “Annie! No stop! Ew!” 

Cisca took note of her daughter's divided attention, taking an easy guess that she was hanging out with a few friends. “Hi sweetheart, am I calling at a bad time?” Even though neither could see each other, she had a warm and proud smile on her face just thinking about how far Y/n has come.

The innocent giggle down the phone grew quieter and quieter. Y/n was walking away from her friends. “Sorry mum, yeah I can talk. We were just having a games night in my dorm…” Ciscas heart just warmed, happy that her youngest child was growing up and maturing.

“Oh no worries, go and hang out with your friends! Have fun!” And with a couple goodbyes and a ‘I love you’ between the two, Y/n was back hanging out with her friends. 

-

Unlike her younger years of boarding, Y/n hadn’t been home from school on the weekend in a long while. She couldn’t; especially with her exams quickly approaching, she was in her dorm studying and revising most  weekends.

This meant the youngest Norris hadn’t seen her family in a few weeks. Of course she had spoken to them but hadn’t been home since the end of January, and they all understood why. It was harder for some to swallow that pill - well harder for one person particularly e.g Lando.

The Silverstone grand-prix was just around the corner and all he wanted was for his youngest sister to be there. Yeah it was selfish but he missed her, to be far the last time the two saw each other was early January. He missed her so much.

“Are you sure you can’t just take the exam early and then come and support me?” His rough voice rang through Y/n's phone whilst she was highlighting her revision. Lando wasn’t even trying to hide his annoyance.

A gentle laugh followed by a sigh was heard from Y/ns side of the call. “I’m sorry Lan…I can’t ask them to move the exam, it’s against the rules of the exam board…”

She didn’t have an exam that week actually, she was lying. Y/n was going to be in Silverstone that sunday. It’s just that Lando didn’t know, oh no it was a surprise.

What he thought was happening was that everyone else from his immediate family would be there, except Y/n. 

Everyone was in on the surprise. All excited to see the pair reunited. Surprises were always one of the things the Norris family loved to do.

-

Y/n - Good luck today! I’ll be juggling revision and watching the race, I hope to hear our national anthem pleaseee  Lando - Thank you angel, don’t wear yourself out Y/n - I should tell you the same thing

Lando thought she’d be tucked away in her dorm room whilst they were texting back and forth. A vast contrast to her current location; in the passenger seat of Oliver's car. The sun was shining through the windshield and down over her bare knees.

Y/n was wearing a white summer dress, some comfortable trainers and her signed mclaren 4 cap. Looking ready to spend the day in the British summer sun supporting one of her older brothers. 

She was smirking. He really had no clue about this. “Okay so he thinks I’m still at school, oh my god I can’t wait!” 

With her gcses, Y/n hadn’t been to a race in a long time and she missed it; watching from her dorm was not the same. In her dorm, she didn’t get that real excitement that would course through her like it would in the McLaren garage.

Looking over to Oliver, he was also smirking. Just remembering how he had to deal with Landos sulking and the clear signs that Y/n was by far his favorite. “Yeah he’s gonna be so happy when he sees you!”

-

Once they arrived, Y/n was quietly escorted through the back way to the McLaren garage. They couldn’t have the press ruining the surprise. Luckily for Y/n, her spot in the garage couldn’t be seen from anywhere Lando would be.

She stood between her parents whilst her other three siblings stood on either side Cisca and Adam. “I’m so excited!” When she was handed her headset, the girl got even more excited because she could hear her brother's voice through the radio. 

He had yet to win his first grand prix and she hoped he would get to that top step of the podium, especially at his home race. And hopefully without him knowing she is here, he will focus on that exact outcome. 

-

It was a hard race, lots of action and stress. Something Y/n liked, she hated a boring race - this sport was about racing, not riding cars in the same positions in several circles. But the most important thing to note from this race was the number four McLaren parked in front of the number one place in Parc Ferme.

The papaya garage was very much in celebrations, including the Norris family. Turning to face her mother with tears in her eyes, she noticed how Cisca also had tears in her eyes. “He did! He did!”

Adam, who is also over the moon with the win, takes her hand and starts to lead her over to the Parc Ferme to surprise the driver. Reaching the Parc Ferme they stand waiting amongst the McLaren staff and up against the barriers.

Lando pulls himself out of the car and makes his way to celebrate with his team. It’s only when he moves to give Adam a hug that he notices his little sister and he gasps. 

“Y/n?” He can’t believe his eyes, he thought she was back in her boarding school revising. 

Immediately the driver breaks from his father's embrace and races to collect Y/n in his arms. The two siblings were laughing and crying together. Finally reunited after a long time, in their opinions. 

After a few seconds, Lando moves to collect her face in his hand gently - trying to see if his eyes are deceiving him, they weren’t. “I thought you had an exam!” He shouts over the cheers around the two of them. 

Y/n just smirks cheekily and shakes her head. “Nope! Surprise!” Soon her smirk turns into a groan when Landos hand moves to mess up her hair, laughing breaking out between them once again. 

Everyone saw. The cameras around Parc Ferme all broadcasting the reuniting of two siblings who just missed each other. “You’re such a little shit!”

Shrugging her shoulders, Y/n smiled. “Everyone was in on it! Our family loves a surprise!” So when Lando turned to look at his father, Adam just nodded - Happy to reunite two of his children.

-