#HAVE U SEEN HIS TRAILER | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

virginreprise · 2 months ago

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J U N K Y ' P R I D E

joel miller x reader

" MY MEAN DADDY, MY BAD BABY, DON'T YOU WANT ME? " ✧ ⁺ ⁺ 　°

CHAPTER ONE

WARNINGS: age difference (although no age is mentioned), pervy joel, trailer park joel, joel is still a sad old man, joel being mean again, smut, references to harassment (not from joel), literal sex, breathplay, oral (f receiving), although joel may get some head in the future if he's lucky, you're more important than him, two uses of daddy, just because joel is disgusting and i wanna test the waters before i fully commit to my depraved fantasies of calling a grown man daddy, joel no aftercare miller because he's lowk a little asshole who's afraid of women, pussy pronouns because i feel like that's joel's brand atp

WORD COUNT: 14.6k

AO3 LINK

CHAPTER TWO—PRETTY BABY

Joel had cowered in his trailer for two weeks, acting like the recluse he was at heart, avoiding interactions with others, communicating with grunts and murmurs and looks that made sure anyone who dared speak to him in any way that could’ve been perceived as “cheery” would be off his back and turn the other way.

He hadn’t been rattled by the conversation he’d had with you, nor had he been left feeling some ridiculous guilt just because he’d got in your face and made those pretty features contort in fear. No, he had purely been pissed off with you. You thought you’d hit the nail on the head with your analysis, that you knew anything about him at all. And when you’d asked him if he was okay…well, after that, most of his restraint had been lost.

Storming off like a petulant child was better than hurting you so badly he’d never get a taste of your sweet cunt just once. After thinking about it, it was better that he’d walked away when he did, simply because it gave him the ability to get his head straight again, shake off some of the rage, and channel the rest into fucking you until you cried.

Before, he would’ve never been so volatile with you, would’ve never even thought about fucking you at all. He’d fix what you wanted fixed, he’d smile at you and call you “Ma’am,” like a sociable, pleasant old man. Not the sad sack of shit he’d turned into it. So angry all the time for reasons he refused to unpack. If he acknowledged it, he’d have to acknowledge that she would’ve hated what he turned out to be.

You were younger than what she would be if she were alive today. Would it have made her feel sick? Would it have made her run away from him, unable to recognise the man she’d called dad?

In part, it was the reason why he’d banished you. Not in the moment. No, in the moment he’d wanted to choke you. But some subconscious part of him, some ghost of compassion had possessed him and he’d thought about her eyes, how scared she’d looked as he’d held her and how similar you had looked when he’d raised his voice, when he’d kept it quiet, all menace and intimidation, when he’d touched you, gripping onto your thigh—when he’d looked desperately into your eyes and hoped that you’d crack a smile. That you’d stop looking at him like he was the fucking devil.

You really were something else, something so ridiculously dissimilar to himself, better than himself in every conceivable way, and yet simultaneously aggravating because you wouldn’t stay away from him. Every single time, you kept crawling back like you had no other choice. Like Rick across the way wasn’t a better plumber than Joel was and would’ve fixed your stupid tap permanently for free.

He wasn’t blind or oblivious to your efforts. He’d called your bluff a long time ago, when you’d come skipping along and bat your eyelashes at him, acting like the most innocent little thing in the state of Texas, not knowing that Joel had seen you tripping over your feet at night with a cigarette in your hand, circling the park again and again and again, worrying at your bottom lip. Or when you’d kicked over your bike in frustration because the chain kept falling off or when you’d got in Linda’s face at the Fourth of July barbecue because she’d been whispering amongst the trailer park's entire female population that you were a whore.

Joel had laughed to himself when the rumour had found him—had laughed even harder when you’d defended yourself, thrown your coke all over the fucking gossip and stormed off, only to knock on his door later that day to give him his mail that had made its way into your letterbox, a pretty little smile on your face and a sweetness to your voice that hadn’t found its way into your tone the day before.

There was a fierceness to you, a deep-cut vision like a B-side from a beautifully crafted album, the scraps just as brilliant as the first choice. Under all those pretty smiles, was anger, a knack for getting what you wanted with a few shouts and a quick tongue. He’d seen it when you’d misread him, called him a pervert with puffed-out cheeks and left Joel with a suspicion that you would start stomping your feet and smoke would pour from your ears. However, unlike your confrontation with Linda, you’d cowered when he’d fought back. Part of him had hoped you’d keep going, that even when he’d scared you, you’d push through fear and slap him across the face.

Maybe it’d bring back his sense.

Maybe he’d slap you instead, make you give him some fire. Anything that he can use against you to reign you in.

Joel had no interest in hurting you though. Simultaneously, he had no interest in keeping you safe from what he knew he truly was. If that led to hurt, it was unintentional. You weren’t a schoolboy crush, nor was the situation love at first sight, but you were interesting to Joel; he wanted to get to know you. There was something there, something repressed that you kept locked away, that only came out to pounce on you when you were alone in the middle of the night.

The only issue was that if he had to get to know you, that meant you’d have to get to know him too. Joel’s history was something he wasn’t prepared to let go of, an incomplete manuscript that couldn’t be edited, that was full of flaws and bad decisions. He wouldn’t let you open it, wouldn’t let you peer at the front cover or skim the spine with your finger: it was guarded by tendrils of barbed wire, pushing through the clouds and up past the stratosphere. It would be difficult to damage it, damn near impossible to break the fortification entirely.

So, naturally, Joel left you alone. He didn’t look at you in the mornings, didn’t peer through the windows at night and in turn, you left him alone too. Though nowadays there was a sag in your shoulders, a frown constantly tugging at your lips and he felt a certain sense of pride that he was the reason for it. He didn’t need to ask you, he knew. Could tell by the way you avoided eye contact when he’d driven back from the store (he’d been low on Camel’s) and saw you sat on your steps, puffing away and gnawing on your bottom lip.

It was petty, the way you’d turned away immediately upon hearing the sound of his engine, stubbed out the cigarette and stormed back inside.

Joel didn’t mind all too much. You were bratty and he liked it—enjoyed when you spoke back like he wouldn’t be able to knock you out with one weak punch.

It had been a surprise when you’d turned up on his doorstep on a Friday night, all dressed up, makeup you’d clearly worked hard on, ruined by your streaming tears.

“I’m sorry,” you’d blubbered, shaking like a leaf on his porch and he wasn’t sure if it was the chill of the night air or fear. “I know you don’t want me here.”

Then why show up? It’s what he wanted to say but he bit his tongue to save you from collapsing from dehydration. All those tears you were coughing up like there was a free supply of them behind those pretty eyes—eyes now red raw and bloodshot.

“What’s the issue?” he asked, less soft than you perhaps would’ve liked. He couldn’t give too much attention to it, though: the concern he felt buried underneath layers upon layers of tough exterior; even your flood of tears couldn’t wash away the rubble to find it.

“I-I was out, I wasn’t doing anything wrong, t-this- this guy he…”

Right there, Joel’s blood burned bright fucking red. He’d felt it with Dale when he’d seen the old man drooling after you like a rabid dog, eating away at your ankles—just begging for a taste. He’d scared the man shitless when he’d grabbed him by the collar once he was out of your eyeline, yanked him along to the outskirts of the park and spat in his face. The only reason he didn’t beat him bloody was because it would’ve been unnecessary and Joel had been sober that night so had been thinking at least a little rationally.

But this guy…whoever the fuck he was, hadn’t just made you uncomfortable, but had made you come to Joel Miller for comfort. Had forced your hand, had caused you to swim into the shark's mouth. Perhaps, worst of all, he’d made you cry—big, hot, glistening tears that travelled sporadically in all directions across the expanse of your face, dripping from your jaw and settling in your clavicle.

“What’d he do?” Joel was intimidatingly calm, voice even and eyes sharp.

You sniffled, lip quivering and your mouth opened to speak, then closed as if the words had gotten stuck—that the force of your pain overpowered your ability to be coherent.

“Baby…” Joel murmured, unable to stifle the smile that twitched and fell when you snapped your eyes to his—hopeful with the promise of the nickname. “Tell me.”

Taking a deep breath, you swallowed away the thickness in your throat, tried to stop the shaking by playing with your fingers, lips downturned and looking like such a scared little lamb. Despite being a wolf, Joel managed to set aside his natural tendencies, tucking them away safely for whoever the fucker you were crying over was, and instinctually, wanting to keep you safe.

“I was all by myself, I shouldn’t have gone by myself,” you looked away from him like Joel would judge you—like he would think it was your fault. He wanted to say something but waited patiently for you to continue, wondering when would be the best time to invite you in. If he even should invite you in given the implications of the statement and what he had done the last time you’d stepped through the boundary separating the inside of his trailer from the outside. “He wouldn’t stop touching me, I tried to get him off but he wouldn’t leave me alone and I- I got out of there when he wasn’t watching but he fucking followed me home-”

“Where is he?” It was instant, the way Joel snapped into action, fists clenching—prepared to fall right onto his face and break his fucking nose.

“I- I don’t know,” you muttered. “I just came to you.”

Unsure of how to react to the information, he scanned the area behind you, taking a singular look at your trailer and deciding that he could not, in good conscience leave you alone. Having a good conscience in the first place had been a foreign thing to Joel for such a long time that the feeling of wanting to do something right, the knowledge that he was not inviting you in because he wanted to touch you but because he wanted to protect you, was a troubling thing to realise. He couldn’t afford to go soft, to let people in, to hold them close until he inevitably told them everything and they realised how much of a bad person he was. But with you…it hardly mattered.

“Okay, babygirl.” His hands twitched towards your face, both palms landing on either cheek—so natural that it should’ve scared him. “Come on, let’s get you warm.”

Stray tears fell at his affection and he couldn’t bear to look at you crying anymore so guided you inside, letting you occupy his space, and took one last look outside before closing the door behind him—locking you both away.

It was when he’d called you babygirl, that you knew you’d fallen deep. The entire purpose of going out that night had been to forget about him, find someone else who maybe had that same smouldering look in his eyes, that same mystery that rendered every single movement an enigma. It’d been useless of course and you’d been harshly reminded of why you never went out in the first place, certainly not by yourself and certainly not to hook up with a stranger. The ache was just so very large, all-encompassing and you struggled immensely with the silent treatment he’d inflicted upon you.

You’d be lying if you said it was much different from before. Lack of conversation between Joel and yourself was in fact extremely common but the context in which the communication had haltered, the undeniable tension that permeated every accidental look and every longing stare at that white door in the middle of the night, was a pain you would never admit to him.

You didn’t want him to think you were weak, that you needed him in any capacity, so you’d got out. You’d ran away from him and in a cruel twist of fate, you’d crawled right back—crying on the doorstep and looking more pathetic than you think he’d ever seen you.

However, he’d held your face in his hands, gazed at you with something akin to pity and you wouldn’t have left him even if he’d asked you to.

You’d shuffled into his home, rubbing at your bare arms and staring at Joel’s back as he reached into the cupboards for a glass. You wanted to bury your face into him, wrap your arms around his waist and drag him close. The cold sting on your cheeks from where he’d touched you, the echo of his words in your ears wasn’t enough. You wanted him near, wanted to bury your head between his chest and beg him to tell you that you were safe.

“Drink.” His words snapped you back, eyes stinging as they flitted to his face and then to the glass he was holding.

“Thanks,” you muttered softly as you reached for the water, fingers brushing against his a sensation you attempted to ignore. After a moment standing, eyes fixated on his shoes and mulling over the situation, you apologised again. The “Sorry” falling from your mouth, the feeling of stupidity as the tears finally began to subside, and Joel’s gentle touch as he took your chin between his thumb and forefinger: delicate and affectionate. From the outside looking in, it would seem like a man simply comforting his girl with firm words and soft fingers.

“Don’t apologise. It ain’t your fault.” His gaze was set, those gorgeous eyes still hard and stony, fixated on you—hoping to bury the words beneath your skull.

“I just don’t wanna bother you-”

“I ain’t got nothin’ better to do.” There was a hint of a smile at his lips but it didn’t reach his eyes, corners of his mouth twitching, looking like the action itself was painful—like the words he uttered echoed in his ears and bashed at his eardrum. Maybe he should have something better to do than sit around and look after you.

You furrowed your brow at his expression, looking just as pained as he did and sipped your water—throat finally feeling some reprieve from the scratches that littered the flesh. His hand fell from your chin, resting at his side and you couldn’t shake the burning in your stomach as he refused to cease the eye contact so you did it for him, eyes firmly on the linoleum and teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

He probably didn’t want you here—surely he didn’t. He’d spent the past two weeks ignoring you, refusing to acknowledge the conversation you’d had the other night, when you’d felt everything brew up inside you and finally boil over. When you’d thrust a finger in his face and pointed out every flaw and every observation. Everything that Joel Miller was.

That solemn, brooding solace you found being close to a personality that reminded you of days long past. The intimidation that he used like a shield, strengthening his defences after people tried to get inside his walls; he’d shot them down with arrows, leaving the bullets in his palm for himself. You though…he’d let you in. He’d shot at your shoulder then let you past the gates to dress the wound.

“Might wanna wash your face,” he said grimly, brushing past you to go sit on his leather throne.

You gazed at your reflection in the window above the sink, light from the ceiling flooding you in a spotlight and illuminating the streaming makeup, the blotchy face and the red eyes. Suddenly conscious, you snapped your head back to him, his back turned to you, working at the TV with a steady hand.

Sensing your eyes, the stare that burned through him—full of pity and understanding—he muttered, “Bathrooms first door on the right.” Trying to get rid of you.

Wanting to ensure he was comfortable in his own home, you placed your glass on the counter, turned on your heel and began down the hallway—stopping at the first and only door on the right-hand side and slipped inside. You wanted to shower but knew it was a step too far, that that would be taking his hospitality for granted, so you settled for the sink.

Makeup was crusting along your skin, forcing its way into your pores and mingling with the sweat and dirt from the long walk you took from the centre of town. Hastily, you turned on the tap, cupping your hands under the stream and splashing it over your face. You sat with it for a moment, with the cool droplets running down your face and soothing the stinging of your eyes before scrubbing—wanting it all off. It felt wrong along your skin, the crusted tears near your eyes painful as you washed them away. It was effort, with just the water, but when you rose from the sink basin with a fresh face, you felt better.

You were safe with Joel, that much you were sure.

You took a deep breath before retreating from the solidarity of the bathroom, door handle cool under your palm as you inhaled, held, and exhaled. With the dispelling of that cool air, you pushed, stepping out into the hallway and hearing the faint sound of late-night television coming from down the way.

Joel was still sat where you’d left him, putting his cigarette out and discarding it inside an empty beer bottle, eyes fixated on the TV and although it looked like he hadn’t heard you, you knew he had. That subtle tensing of his shoulders, shuffling in his seat as he cracked his neck distractedly. You stood there, looking at the back of his head for far too long, lingering in the shadowed hallway and hoping he’d turn around and look at you—grant you that deep gaze that held so much. So many words said with just one glance.

But he didn’t. He stayed exactly where he was, nestled in his corner of the world.

You went to him on shaky legs, entering his living space with short breaths, playing with your fingers as you stopped just in front of where he sat.

“Thanks for-” you began, stopping yourself when you heard the crack in your voice—how hard it was to speak with the heaviness of your eyes and the hoarseness of your throat. Managing to swallow away some of it, some of that pent-up misery you felt clawing its way up the passages of your insides, you uttered quietly,” Just…thank you.”

“Yeah,” he said back, voice just as pensive as yours; you didn’t know if he wasn’t looking at you purposefully or if he truly was just as nervous about the interaction as you were. The notion that Joel Miller would be nervous at all was laughable but you knew there was something there—something greater than he let everyone think. Curiosity was a big driver in your interactions with the man, a desire to see what he felt, hear every thought that burrowed itself in his head, but right there, your insecurity prevailed and you decided it’d be best if you left him alone.

“I think I’m gonna go home now,” you said reluctantly, knowing that all you truly wanted to do was crawl into his lap and bury your face in the crook of his neck. “I’m tired.”

“Okay,” he nodded and as he turned to look at you there was a glint in his eyes—almost begging—that said ‘Don’t go.’ You didn’t want to, you wanted to stay wrapped up in him forever, limbs entangled in feverish desire. But you couldn’t stay. You could barely move in his presence and it wasn’t worth it to be engaged in something that would cripple you forever.

So you repeated his word, purse hanging loose from your fingertips as you turned your back on him and headed for the front door.

He halted you before you could get there.

“If you see him again, even if you hear a noise out there, you come back to me.” There was a care in his voice, a forceful attentiveness that left you reeling. He was letting you go but inviting you back too. He was professing something, expressing words unspoken, with actions and you couldn’t help the way your heart swelled in your chest, your throat constricting as a sob attempted to choke its way into your mouth.

You just nodded, sure that if you spoke you’d end up crying again.

With no more words left, you opened the front door, stomach twisting as you looked around to check that you were alone, and scurried down his porch steps, not knowing that once Joel had heard your door close, he’d stepped out into the night and placed himself on his shitty white chair—watching the surrounding area until dawn came, ready to deter the danger if it came for you.

Sunlight shot through the half-open window, the heat stiflingly stagnant, sweat trickling down the back of your neck as you lay, immobile on your bedroom floor—hoping that the dewy grass underneath the trailer would somehow rise up through the ground and relieve you of the suffering that was prevalent whether you were indoors or out. Your shitty fan was rattling in the corner, doing little to alleviate the pain, and in the midst of a Wednesday afternoon, work already completed, you had no other choice than to think about the man next door and his actions.

There was a gentle acknowledgement, a careful unspoken communication that something, whatever it was, had switched in you and Joel. After that night, that pathetic night when you’d cried on his doorstep, he had not thrust you away as you had expected him to. He had barely even been rude to you, that awful scowl that was perpetual in every sense, stripped from his face. The careful commands, the casual way in which he took care of you.

The only thing you wished, was that he’d let you stay the night—that even if you had been the one to suggest the departure, he would ignore your wishes and make the decision for you, grab you by the hips and pull you down on top of him. Kiss you on the lips with all the ardour he had stored somewhere deep in the pits of his being. Damn your age, damn the consequences, damn anything that would occur in retaliation. You wanted him. If not for selfish reasons, for an interesting sympathy that you held for him every time he looked in your eyes, every time someone speculated on why he had turned out the way he had.

The whispering, the wondering, the stories that seemed so elaborate and profound that you couldn’t bring yourself to believe them. The contractor who’d told you of a man named Joel Miller. His fate. What befell him that September when he’d lost everything meaningful to him.

You didn’t know, however. You didn’t know what was the truth and what was all facade, if Joel had shot down the rumours himself by telling a fabrication of reality to all of those who dared make false assumptions.

So, you settled with the equivocations, the image of him in your mind expanding until all that remained was a pity that ran through each of your bones, vibrating your insides; the pleasure of his touch was the only sedation.

Laying there, on the carpeted floors that you wished were wood, you thought of him. You thought of him deeply, throwing your mind back to that first interaction with him when he’d stood in the light of the rising sun, eyes running all over you. Observation. It was something he was good at, being able to discern the very fabrics of the human soul by glancing over at your movements, your mannerisms, taking note of the way you spoke to certain people. You were sure he knew you were smitten from the moment you opened your mouth.

In truth, you had been completely enamoured by him. Despite those initial reactions to his leering gaze, that sleazy look in his eyes that rendered you disgusted by his very presence, you had mulled over it on those particularly boring shifts, those mundane Sundays when you gazed at the empty white chair on his porch and thought about how handsome he looked sat there: legs spread wide, thumb and finger playing at his furrowed brow, cigarette burning between those pretty fingers and the portable radio next to him expelling a country tune or the occasional Texas Rangers game.

You fantasised about sitting there with him, fingers curled around his as you lounged in the chair adjacent—always looking like it was waiting for someone to sit in it. For you to sit in it.

But you weren’t brave enough. You weren’t brave anyway.

You weren’t brave enough to speak up when you felt like you were caving in on yourself, boulders falling from the tip of your head and landing at your feet—breaking each toe until you couldn’t move, suspended by the sensation of skin melting from your face, your brain losing all rational thought. You weren’t brave enough to do something bigger with your life, to approach every memory that haunted you like an evil phantom, intent on breaking you down into nothing until you sat as dilapidated as the abandoned moonshine still that rested its weary legs just opposite the bypass.

You weren’t brave enough to tell Joel that you wished to have him completely. That you wished to help him build himself back up; if what was said about him was true, you were willing to ignore all of your demons, to repress them like you had many times over, and place all your energy into making him smile.

Instead of actively hoping to remedy the situation on your lonesome, to be active with your desires and do everything possible to make them come true, you instead wait for someone else to fulfil them for you. If Joel wasn’t willing to tell you, to confess every depraved fantasy, you’d continue to lay on your bedroom floor and hope for things to be different.

In the sweat of that Wednesday afternoon, in the midst of summer despair, you thought of him. In your bedroom you had not decorated, staring at the ceiling fan that did not work, you thought of him. Through the fog of everything that made up your regrets and your achievements, he remained the central thing that kept you alive.

A knock on the door brought you back, three raps that came down hard and assured. With a thick head, you peeled yourself off the floor, brushing down flyaway hair that had ran away from your scalp and cracked your back as you stood.

Just that simple movement had sweat pooling at your lower back, the sun at its highest peak, menacingly bright and dangerously hot. Sniggering as it watched you stumble down the hallway, lethargic with the soupy air and trying your hardest to put a smile on your face as you pulled at the doorknob—a wall of heat separating you from the outside.

That half-hearted grimace that had replaced your frowning, quickly transformed into an expression littered with confusion as you stared at the man before you. Had you begun thinking about him so much that you’d started to hallucinate him? Had you thought about him so loud that he’d taken the time to knock on your door and tell you to shut up?

You said nothing as you stared at him, the delirium of the day causing your brain to momentarily stop working—greetings and manners that you’d been taught since you could walk something you gave no attention to. Only able to focus on his broadness hogging the space, the way he stared down at you with a clenched jaw, the perpetual tense of his shoulders and the hardness of his eyes. Just seeing him was enough to send you falling headfirst into a sensation you had no desire to express to him.

“You okay?” he asked, softer than expected and your heart sank as you looked down at his hands to see the two envelopes nestled between his fingers. He’d come to give you your mail.

“Yeah,” you mumbled out, lingering too long on the paper before flicking your eyes back to his and gathering yourself, scolding the fact that you couldn’t focus around him. You nodded briefly to what had caused that pit in your stomach to open up again. “That my mail?”

He nodded in response, handing it out to you with the manner of someone who wished to be away from the situation they were involved in.

“They keep getting us mixed up,” you said, forcing a smile and trying to make it all as comfortable as possible. “I still think they do it on purpose.” It was a poor attempt at a joke, coercing a conversation so that maybe he’d stay a little longer than intended. You yearned for a little courage, hoping that your mouth would expel the words you wished to speak: invite him in, ask him if he wanted a drink or a cigarette or both, tell him how much you’d been thinking about him.

“I’ll have a word if I see them.”

Why was it awkward? It was unusual, the way he wasn’t leering at you, how he wasn’t purposefully overpowering you. It seemed that he was more intimidated by you in that moment than he ever had before in his life. What a strange feeling it was: to have Joel Miller cowering. It gave you some much-needed bravery as you placed the mail on the side table next to your door, near the bowl that held your keys and discarded receipts you hadn’t bothered to throw away.

When the words came tumbling out of your mouth, you struggled to believe they were real.

“You wanna come in?” The shaking in your hands as he raised his eyebrows, the doubts hurtling at your chest with all the force of a high-speed collision. “I haven’t got anything else to do all afternoon.” You decided adding a little context would be better—maybe sway him a little more.

You couldn’t tell if the slight smile toying at those pretty lips was genuine or a courtesy, nor did you know if when he’d accepted your invitation he was doing it just to be polite or because he actually wanted to.

In your delusions, you told yourself that it was all because he did want you around, that he’d just been playing hard to get all this time because, like you, the thought of letting anyone in was so incredibly daunting. No matter how much you wanted Joel, just the thought of kissing him made you nauseous—the anxiety of what may occur after, the consequences to everything, what he would think when he realised that you weren’t all sweet. That you were awkward and mean at the best of times; the way you’d presented yourself to him was not your true character.

You feared that after everything, he would decide he didn’t like you. That you weren’t worth his time. From the things you’d heard about him, you weren’t even sure he’d let you stick around long enough to figure out what you were truly like.

As he walked into your home though, nothing in his hands to suggest that he was only here to do some light maintenance and be on his way, you couldn’t think about that. You were no longer on your bedroom floor, begging God for things to be different. Things were becoming different, and when you offered him a drink, assuring him that he could smoke inside despite never doing it yourself without hanging halfway out your window, you found yourself becoming comfortable. Too comfortable honestly.

He settled himself on your couch, hips rising as he reached into his pocket to pull out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a scratched-to-shit silver zippo and shook his head at your offer of coffee. You nestled yourself a respectable distance from him—tucking your legs underneath you and watched as he brought the light to the dangling stick and lit it. A cloud of smoke muffled his face, the scent of tobacco tickling your nose and bringing comfort sliding down your spine.

It was silent, in the most blissful way, the heat blushing his cheeks, the loving caress of the setting sun as it promised to fall beneath the horizon as soon as it could—that its day of evil heat was slowly falling away. The light breeze that trickled through your open window, taking the smoke away with it, guiding it up towards the sun and stars. Cicadas chirping, birds coming to and from their nests, searching for some good food to bring home to their babies, and snakes burrowed in the shade to escape the searing heat. All of nature's beauty peeking its head past the haze of despondency just to enlighten you and Joel—to help you feel greater than you had just five minutes ago.

It helped clear your thick head, helped escape the thin veil of your body's disparagement to get to a point where you could focus on Joel and only Joel. Watch him take a drag and exhale, chest rising and falling.

When his head rolled backwards, resting on the edge of your couch and revealing each tendon in his neck, you finally decided to open your mouth.

“Thank you for the other night.” The words fell quietly, whispered to him as if not to disrupt his moment of relaxation. “It was late and you…”

How he looked at you…you couldn’t quite describe. Those eyes wide and glinting, the unadulterated sympathy that lingered in those pits—something else dancing with it that you were unsure of. Hoping to God that he would tell you outwardly instead of hoping you’d understand that one meaningful look.

“Couldn’t leave you cryin’ on my doorstep,” he uttered, holding that stare, refusing to look away.

“I’m sure lots of people would’ve,” you rebutted.

“No one can say no to that face,” he finalised.

Your heart fluttered in the confines of your chest, eyes wide as he looked at you—those perpetually tired eyes, those tense shoulders and clenched jaw, desperate to stroke your fingers over each eyelid and lull him to sleep. See if he would drift away with a smile and wake up with the same expression permanently etched into his face. Hoping he’d look at you like that for the rest of your life.

“I wanna thank you properly, Joel.” There was a brief pause, a flicker as he scanned his way across your face, and then the heat of his stare was gone and you were left dowsed in ice water—waiting for his words.

The hasty way he brought the cigarette to his lips, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and gazing at the grey as he exhaled, huffing with the force of a dragon trying to dispel the danger. The harsh way in which he shook his head, the utter rejection that brewed up inside you once you’d realised that you’d gone too far. The bravery you’d been gifted for speaking up had betrayed you; you’d crossed the line.

“You really wanna go there?”

You paused, eyes flickering softly over his form. He’d caught your double meaning with the grace of a fly falling directly into a death trap, flown right through your words, and came out the other end with a defiance you had expected but had not wanted. The man who looked at you like he wanted to lock you away, display you on a shelf so he could poke at you for eternity, had rejected you. It was more insecurity-inducing than you had thought.

Feigning ignorance to heal the aching in your heart, you continued the game through a hoarse throat—wishing for the man who’d drooled over you that very first time you’d set eyes on him.

“Go where?”

“Don’t play stupid, we both know you ain’t.”

He glared at you, the brightness of his eyes disappearing—a strange uncomfortable glint dancing in the shadows of them; you couldn’t stop looking at him and thinking that he looked goddamn exhausted. All the time. You were unsure if he ever slept, if he ever allowed himself to have a moment of peace, a short second to himself where he screamed into a pillow and rolled over to the other side of the bed—ready to drift off. You’d hold him until the frown on his face disappeared if he’d let you.

From the way he stared at you, however, you were sure he didn’t want you there at all.

“I just wanna thank you,” you said softly, gazing at him earnestly. “Seriously, Joel, you do a lot for me-”

“I fix your tap and give you your mail, you don’t owe me shit.” It was almost self-deprecating, the way he refused you—as if he didn’t think he was worthy of you.

“Will you just let me do this one thing?”

“Now, let's get this straight,” he interrupted, accent growing as thick as his aggravation. “We ain’t friends.”

“I never said we-”

“I need you to listen to me.” The fatherly tone startled you, a far cry from those leering looks and sleazy stares—silencing you with the harshness of his tone. “You’re a goddamn kid. Whatever you think…whatever I’ve-” he cut himself off with a shake of his head, bringing the cigarette clasped between his fingers to his lips, inhaling sharply; all the smoke went into his lungs and none came out as he spoke again. “It ain’t right.”

Silence encapsulated the space, your heart sinking as those words entered your ear and left through the other side, the rejection everything you had not expected. What had you expected really? For him to profess his undying love and hold you forever? For him to put you on his lap and tell you that he was proud of you? That he would be there for you forever and always?

You’d hoped a little bit too much and consequently, been disappointed by your own expectations.

“Who says?” you tried to level your voice, to rid of the fear and anxiety that had clouded your entire being since you’d learnt about your mortality—when you’d sat on a rocking chair at the ripe age of thirteen and rocked it so far you’d fallen flat on your face and hadn’t gotten up years later.

“I say.” It came with so much conviction, that signature stare still plastered onto his face, set scowl all intimidation and no love—nothing behind those eyes except persistent irritation and self-hatred.

Suddenly, you found some gall, blood bubbling as you mirrored his frown. “So it was okay when you looked through my bedroom window whilst I was changing? It was okay when you said I’d get cockdrunk real easy and laugh about me being dumb with your buddies? I thought I wasn’t stupid, Joel.”

“You ain’t-”

“Then you should know that I know exactly what I want and what I want is to thank you!” A deep breath, gulping away the saliva that had accumulated in your mouth and observing every twitch of his jaw—the shake in his hands. “In a way that I know you want because I’m not stupid. You might think that you’re subtle but I promise you, you aren’t.”

“What do you want from me, huh?” he asked abruptly, venom in his glare, all of it directed at you and poisoning your blood indelicately.

It was a good question—one that stumped you if you were being completely honest. What did you want from him? A good fuck, someone to hold, someone to tell you that you were worth it? Or maybe, you just wanted him to make you feel desired. To make you feel like you were wanted by something, even if that something would hide you away, isolate you from your friends, and keep you trapped in a palace of deceit and fresh blood—cutting away at your flesh to keep the supply of crimson flowing.

Joel urged you on with the power of his stare, waiting for an answer with false patience.

“I just…” struggling to form a proper sentence, stringing together words in your mind that didn’t make sense. “I just need to know how you feel.”

The answer didn’t seem like enough, his eyes trained on you for a few seconds more before he broke the contact, leaving you shivering as a breeze suddenly pushed through the open window—drapes dancing with the force of it.

His attention was captured by the cigarette in hand, the thing almost smoked down to the filter, grey billowing from its end as he sniffed, shook his head, and stood.

“You got an ashtray round here?”

It startled you: the way he changed the subject so quickly, so determined to make you forget. To make himself forget. Standing there, hogging the space with his bulk, you could sense the turmoil—his hesitation to do what he wished to do and his distaste with himself for doing what he didn’t want to do: walk away.

You were granting him an opportunity, a chance to put all that time spent watching porn into practice—to take whatever he wanted from you without guilt.

However, it was better to acquiesce to his cowardice. Arguing would only push him to the point of no return. Truthfully, you were afraid of Joel and his temper. Sometimes, it felt dangerous to rile him or to talk to him out of turn. What he was capable of, you weren’t sure, but from the story that Spencer Dressure had told you about that one time his brother had taken off with Joel’s pills, the manhunt that followed it and the fact he had not pressed charges despite having to be hospitalised, left little room for you to think it was a good idea to be on Joel’s bad side.

Calling him a pervert until he fucked you seemed to be a surefire way to get you on his list of foes.

“It’s in my room,” you stood carefully, brushing past him to get to the small kitchenette, trying to subdue the result of smelling the remnants of cologne and tobacco that lingered on his skin. “Just put it out in this.”

You handed him a dirty mug from the pile of dishes you had yet to tackle, cheeks heating as you became all too aware of your untidy home, before stepping a respectable distance away and waiting for his next move.

What followed, you had not expected. The undeniable whiplash, the pain that ravaged your stomach as it flipped continuously, looping round and round like the coaster at Coney Island you used to fantasise about as a kid.

“C’mere,” he murmured, a softness to the edge that melted you, pathetically accepting his advance as you stepped forward once, twice, thrice, only three steps and you were closer to him than you had been when you’d been situated on the couch moments before.

The simple movement of him holding up the burning cigarette that was begging for death, the shortest ring of white decorating the cylinder, had you shuddering in anticipation. The brush of your fingers as you reached up to take it and the warmth in your belly as he shook his head and thrust the thing closer to your mouth. You caught his intentions too late for you not to feel embarrassed, gazing at him with a determination you knew was false, something he was bound to pick up on too if the shaking in your legs was as bad as it felt.

Leaning forward, you parted your lips, clamping down on the cigarette with bravery you were surprised you could muster, and inhaled softly—taking every last thing it could give you and savouring the taste of his fingers on your lips as they brushed ever so slightly against his skin.

“Listen,” he murmured as he watched you, eyes trained on your pursed lips as you pulled away and expelled the smoke from your throat, chin tilting slightly to direct the trail away from his face. “You’re a pretty girl.”

You stayed rooted to the spot as you listened intently, eyes carefully observing his movements, the flex of his forearms as he dropped the dead cigarette into the mug and the sound of it sizzling as it reached the remnants of your morning coffee that nestled at the bottom. The way he looked at you and made you feel like he was your single priority—like nothing mattered in that moment except you and making sure you were holding onto his every word.

“And I don’t hate you,” he continued, tilting his head to gaze at your face. “But you gotta understand, that you ain’t gonna be a long-term thing.”

You could’ve laughed in his face if you weren’t so intimidated by the proximity to him, the warmth that emanated from his body and the goddamn smell of him that had your body reacting in ways you hadn’t ever expected it to. That telltale ache and warmth that pooled in your shorts, the way your skin burned—hair rising from your arms and breath catching in your throat as you were overcome with the need to start hyperventilating.

“I don’t care either way,” you managed to huff out, shuffling slightly closer, teasing those boundaries you hadn’t known were there in the first place.

He looked far from convinced, eyes narrowing slightly, chest heaving with a single, deep breath, and hands balled into fists at his sides as he tried as hard as he could to get inside your head.

“I don’t know if I believe you.”

Joel stayed leaning against your counter, casual in his stance but all-encompassing dominance in his demeanour. His menace plagued the trailer park, red “X’s” on every door that the man had targeted—a reminder to passers-by of his impact; what could happen if he was crossed: damnation, ostracisation, and wet pants from where they’d all pissed themselves under the strength of his harassment. A figure that the Preacher warned of as the making of the devil, the bottom of America’s proverbial melting pot. A figure that you now stood toe-to-toe with—staring evil right in the fucking face.

If Hell burnt, he was surely a child of the underworld, scorching the earth beneath and ravaging the heat blazing in your pants.

“What is there to believe?” you asked breathlessly. “If you wanna leave after, you can leave.” You failed to mention how desperate you were to lay skin-to-skin with him, to feel the heat of him everywhere as he wrapped himself around you: glossolalia in your ears as he lulled you to sleep.

“Babygirl, I ain’t afraid about wanting to leave.”

It took a second, a moment of analysing his words before the sincerity of them reached your chest and broke all your ribs. Your lips parted, chest unashamedly heaving as the impact left you winded, and a shake in your legs that you tried to ignore in fear you’d fall flat on your face.

Noting your body language, observing every inch of you—even the smallest of reactions—he took your sporadic breaths as an indicator to continue, standing to his full height as he stepped closer; towering with the grace of the land of Idumaea above you.

A hand cupped your cheek, a tenderness to the touch that was destroyed by his next words.

“You ain’t stickin’ around,” he said plainly. “I need you to know that.”

“I know,” you said defiantly, growing increasingly annoyed with the tone he was taking with you—like you were some disobedient kid who needed reprimanding. It seemed he didn’t much appreciate how you spoke either as his soft touch quickly transformed, fingers gripping your chin and squeezing.

“I don’t wanna be the one to say I told you so,” he murmured. “I don’t want you whinin’ after this or talkin’ about me with Lillian otherwise the whole goddamn place is gonna know that I fucked you. Then, they gon’ be askin’ about you and I don’t like sharin’.” He tugged on your chin, tilting your face so he could lean in. His lips against your ear made you shiver, hot breath against your skin causing every hair to stand to attention and a sweat to form on the back of your neck. “Understand?”

He pulled away, eyes back on yours—that tiredness replaced with a lust so profound that you were sure he could’ve made you spontaneously cum just by looking at you.

Attempting to ignore the ache between your thighs, you nodded. When you replied with an “I understand,” there was the overwhelming feeling that you had just signed away your life to an evil force, a ghost with bad intentions that had asked permission to haunt you for the rest of your days. You could move houses and he would be there, you could move states and he would be there, you could move out of the entire country and he would be waiting for you with a hard stare and a clenched jaw. There wasn’t a single scenario in which you could get away from him.

A stain between your legs: forever.

“Alright,” he drawled, breathing coming just as heavy as yours, eyes flicking to your lips—subconsciously licking his own. “Alright…”

It was slow, the entwining of lips, the gentle way that you both leaned into each other—picking at each petal on a daisy until all that remained was the yellow disk in the centre; lips meeting in the middle of the earth and connecting each continent until you both brought back the great mass of Pangea. His hand cupping your cheek, opening his mouth to let you in, tugging at your waist to pull you flush against him and breathing heavily through his nose when the shock that froze you washed away and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You leaned up, chin tilting as his hand engulfed one side of your face, fingers tickling your hair, teasing the short wisps before threading his fingers into the length and tugging at it: hard.

A soft whimper left your throat, vibrations running through your body as he trailed his hand under your shirt—desperate to feel the dip of your waist, the soft skin just beneath your ribcage that he ran a gentle thumb over.

Tongues entwined in heavenly matrimony, the taste of him tingling on your flesh, the heat of him burning your insides until all that remained was a bubbling pit in your stomach that spit lava and breathed fire.

You truly lost your head when he snaked his hand further under your shirt, taking advantage of your lack of bra as he skimmed his fingers under your breast and smirked against your lips at the sound you emitted—a shuddering, high-pitched thing that shot right from the back of your throat and sent heat streaming in waves down your legs.

Desperately, you tugged at the hair that tickled his neck, pressing your weight against him, allowing him to brush every so slightly over your nipple and relish in the reaction he caused as your knees fell weak and your kisses grew harder.

“Joel,” you murmured between the kiss, finally feeling the heat of him against you, the hard plains of his body that kept you grounded—locked in a transcendental dance, swaying in the lamplight as he hummed into your mouth: his response to your call.

The words you had nestled on disappeared from your head, your questions and answers, statements and expressions all leaving on a cloud that settled out of your reach with God on high. His hands left you empty, his lips causing your stomach to flip and your cunt to ache in the crudest, most hedonistic sensation humankind had been granted. The deep, gruelling feeling between your legs that flashed so hot, so wet, that you found yourself unconsciously grinding your hips against his—catching the groan that dispelled from his lips and the grip on your hips that grew hard enough to bruise.

When he pulled away to press an array of kisses to your jaw, trailing down to your neck and sucking on the junction, your knees grew weak and the fire inside you raged so large that you would’ve begged at his feet to put it out. You were choking on the smoke, flames licking at your calves and travelling higher, and with another call of his name, he commanded Noah to grant you a flood.

He trailed his fingers over the hem of your shirt, pulling it tight and tugging it upwards. You didn’t want to part from him to get it over your head, clinging to him like he was life itself, ignited by his palms pressing over your bare breasts as he hiked the fabric up towards your chin. You obeyed his quiet command, pulling away just far enough for him to peel it off and then brought him right back towards you as his head fell to your chest and his lips clasped around your nipple.

“Fuck,” you whispered between laboured breaths, his tongue laving over your skin, lapping at every sweet flash of flesh.

His lips moved against you as he uttered a muffled, “Filthy mouth,” kissing back up to your lips in haste. “Always got somethin’ nasty to say.” The deep, rasp of his voice fell into your ears; the heat of his breath against your mouth as he stared at you with an intensity that flashed right through the very core of your soul.

Bare-chested in his presence, the rough fabric of his shirt rubbing against you, you couldn’t quite come up with a reply. Words failed you, wit and intelligence just out of reach and the feeling that you were drunk on him without even having a cock inside you. Joel had been right. You think he might’ve been right about everything and you were prepared, in your shitty kitchen, with your shirt laying in a heap on the floor, to do whatever he wanted you to.

“Joel.” It was the only constant word running through your head, the only name you could muster as he pecked you on the lips and splayed his hands along every bare bit of skin he could reach.

“Not gonna fuck you in the kitchen, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing against yours as he spoke.

You wouldn’t have minded if he had, the adrenaline of his touches leaving little room for you to feel picky, but with the slow merging of lips as he placed gentle kisses to your mouth, coaxing you to speak, you managed to shudder out a sentence.

Nodding, you removed your hands from his hair, reaching for his palm that rested on your waist and entwined your fingers with his. You couldn’t bear not feeling his warmth, his weight, over you, your feet hurried as you turned away from him and tugged him down the hallway—intent on shouldering through the open door that led to your room.

With the sun setting in the west, shards of golden light shot through your bedroom window, the patterns on the lace drapes casting shadows of profound nature marching across your comforter—the bunched-up blanket that lay at the foot of your unmade bed after you’d kicked it off in the middle of the night: too hot and head too full of the man that pushed you down onto the very mattress you’d touched yourself in the night before—ignoring the beauty of the four walls illuminated by mother nature’s dying heart.

Human consumption, an all-encompassing need as he ate at your flesh, ripped your skin from its bones as he positioned you in the middle of the bed, kicked his shoes off, and nestled on top of you—a knee between your thighs that pulled a gasping breath from your lungs.

“Pretty baby,” he murmured, lips back on your neck, teeth grazing your collarbone and thumb working over your nipple—watching carefully to note the furrow of your brow, the parting of your lips and the bend in your back as you arched into him, reaching for his shoulders to feel the entire weight of him pushing you through the feathers and springs. “Always so pretty.”

Kissing down your bare stomach, tongue flicking against the skin as he reached his hands into your shorts—fists tugging just slightly to reveal your hipbones and the slight dusting of hair that nestled between them. He lay his lips on it, eyes ablaze when they opened and settled right on your heaving chest. There was question in them as he ran his thumbs over your hips, asking non-verbally whether he could strip you bare—fingers clasped around the hem, pulling just a little further and then ridding of them completely as you nodded your head and bucked your hips to ease the fabric down your legs.

“No panties?” he grumbled, letting you kick away the shorts—hearing the thump as they landed somewhere at the foot of your bed.

The air hitting your naked body left you writhing in the wake of enlightenment, body attuned to every touch as he rubbed his lips over your mons, breathing you in and forcing a whimper from your throat. A retort to his question pulled you from the reverie of weary head, smiling softly as you mumbled, “You’ve already seen them before.”

He narrowed his eyes, smoulderingly handsome and devastatingly beautiful—beauty stripped away as he landed a smack to the side of your thigh, pulled a gasp from your throat and hummed softly.

“Yeah, they were pretty.” He silences any response by grabbing onto your thighs, spreading your legs apart and tilting his head as he stared blankly at your cunt—taking in every detail. “Pretty like this pussy,” he murmurs into the space, breath fanning over your wet slit and causing your hips to twitch. Noting the movement, he slowly and deliberately purses his lips, inhales and breathes out a line of air against your clit. It pulses through you, the cold stream causing your eyes to flutter shut and a heavy heat to settle in your stomach.

“J-Joel,” you stutter, biting your lip, hoping desperately that he’d touch you properly—bring you to that blissful brink where you could teeter just once and go falling over the edge into a meadow blanketed by the hands of angels and the mouth of God.

“What?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his tone that aggravates you further. “Gotta speak up, sweetheart, I ain’t no mindreader.”

“No,” you manage to huff out as he manoeuvres your leg over his shoulder, his thumb running along the outside flesh, teasing you to the point of no return. “No, you’re just an asshole.”

“Mhm,” he agrees, licking his lips as he brings his eyes away from yours and gives his full attention to the leaking slit between your legs that pulses with the heat and aches with the denial. “She don’t seem to think so.”

God and it's disgusting: the way he talks about you. It’s depraved and sick and so awfully indulgent but lying there, limp and at his mercy, you can’t care. All you can think about is his thumb travelling slowly, back and forth, along your slit, the gentle kisses he places on the insides of your thighs and the words “Think I should give her some love, don’t you?” swimming in your head before your mind blanked completely and your skin sears as he presses his mouth fully over your cunt, and begins to lick with intention.

Expletives fall from your mouth, silenced by a second smack to your thigh and a chastising “Language,” as he pauses briefly, leaving you sweating and scared he’s changed his mind before he’s diving headfirst inside you again—tongue teasing at your hole.

It pulls the worst of sounds from your, body reacting on autopilot as you arch into him, head falling back into the pillows and hands grasping the sheet beneath you in the hopes of gaining a semblance of stability.

He doesn’t seem to like that, however, his head tilting upwards and hands grasping onto yours as he pulls them to his head, shuddering as your nails reach his scalp. “Hold on, baby,” he says with a slight smirk. “Don’t want you fallin’ off now, do we?”

The assault on your cunt begins again, his tongue dancing with ease over the full surface, sucking and nipping and eating like he can’t stand to hear the growling or feel the sharp jolts of pain in his stomach anymore. The breathy moans ripping from your throat, the wet sounds reverberating from between your legs that you couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed by—the tearing sound as you gripped so hard onto his hair that you pulled tufts from the thick grey.

Whimpering and writhing; unable to function with him lapping up everything from you—stealing the sweetness of your heat and hoarding it away in his back pocket.

When he sunk his fingers inside, life was pumped back into you, a phantom defibrillator bringing a gasp from your throat—eyes snapping open.

“Shh,” he murmured as he pulled his mouth away, working his fingers in and out, stroking at the spot that sent you straight to heaven. “Relax, baby.”

The words swam in your ears, feeling that sweet pressure in your stomach as he continued thrusting his fingers into you, curling them upwards in a manner that had your thighs shaking and a deep exhaling pouring from your chest. You trapped him between your legs when he leant down to lick at you again, small laps that transformed into blissful suckling as he took your clit fully into his mouth. The combination of his mouth and his fingers, the encouraging way he looked at you every single time you dared open your eyes, all had you ascending.

Every nerve was on fire, synapses working double time to keep up with the overload of sensations imploding inside of you. The world scurried away on a wave, eyes rolling back, toes curling as you squeezed your thighs around his head—locking him there to ensure he would not leave you. That he would keep this feeling brewing in your stomach building forever.

“Joel,” you murmured between moans, a trail of expletives following it as you stepped to the edge of the cliffs in Big Sur, looked down at the rolling waves as your eyes fluttered shut, swaying in the wind, and letting the gust sweep you over.

A strangled cry left you, a powerful force of nature overtaking you as you gripped tight onto his hair—briefly recognising his growl as you did so. You continued to fall, the sound of crashing ocean in your ears, before you landed softly in the tall grass and basked in the glow of the setting sun as it nestled across your face.

Your chest rose and fell as his fingers slowed, mouth now hovering above you and watching intently as your head fell into the pillows and your body slumped with the exhaustion of pleasure.

You found his mouth wet when you finally opened your eyes, his fingers smearing slick over your hip as he crawled up your body and tugged you down the mattress.

“You still with me?” he asked as he placed kisses on your neck, brushing sweaty hair away from your forehead and cradling your face in his hand.

You managed a nod, communicating with actions as you pulled his face to yours, kissing him earnestly and trailing your hands towards the hem of his shirt, muttering an “Off,” barely registering his laugh at your eagerness.

“Yeah, you’re still here,” he said with mirth, straddling your hips as he sat up to rip his shirt from his body, throwing it next to the pile of your clothes. “Still want it.” He grunted as he palmed himself through his jeans, the sight of him on top of you, so strong, so powerful, caging you in like you were a baby deer and he was the one standing over your dying body with a rifle. A shot through your legs as you heard the clink of his belt buckle, another to your stomach as he slid it from its loops and finally, one to the head when he reached into his pants and pulled his cock free.

Sizeable in an entirely intimidating way—the vein on the underside that peeked through his fingers as he firmly stroked himself. That slight lick of precum gathering at the tip that dominated the space, your mouth watering as you were taken by the overwhelming urge to suck. He didn’t let you, however—pulling away to slide his jeans off his legs, boxers with them and leant over you to kiss you again.

You couldn’t get enough of his lips, plump flesh bringing you to life as he nestled his mouth against yours—tongue forcing its way inside to meet yours. He tasted faintly of cigarettes and pussy, smelt of them too, yet it was buried under the overwhelming scent of him. The slight whiff of dollar store soap which was endearing more than anything, the musk of cologne he habitually sprayed over himself every day—a few more squirts when he was bedbound for a few days, unable to move with the pain weighing him down, and hadn’t found the will to shower.

It hadn’t been one of those weeks though. You could tell as you ran your fingers through his hair, soft and fluffy, slightly wiry with his old age and thinning in the back but still so full and gorgeous. He smelt so good. So much so that as he buried his face in your neck to nip at your collarbone, you inhaled softly, breathing him in, feeling so content being trapped in this complicated dance with him.

Your head was going funny, your body tingling and then going into overdrive when his hard cock touched the insides of your thighs—his bare chest against yours as he kissed back up to your lips, pecking twice before pulling away to stare at you.

“No thoughts in that head, huh?” he murmured, leaning down to steal another kiss. Back up again to brand you with the force of his eyes. “Just want daddy’s cock, don’t ya.”

The visceral reaction that ran down your spine, shocked you. The undeniable shiver at the nickname, the complete perversity of it that had your cheeks heating in shame.

“You’re fucking disgusting,” you breathed out, no real conviction to it, predicting perfectly what his next words would be.

“And you like it.” His hand slid down your stomach, diving straight inside you and then falling in one swift movement. Fingers brought in front of your face, a slight smile on his face that you revelled in—the prospect of seeing him even slightly happy making butterflies fall and flutter in your stomach. “Sure looks like you like it.”

The physical evidence swayed the final verdict, his wet fingers falling to your lips, you opening your mouth to let it in and lick away the verification.

The groan that came from deep in his chest when you sucked his fingers had slick dripping down your thighs—the hasty way that he pulled his hand away from you to reach for his cock: all-consuming. Every cell cried out for Joel, for the blissful stretch, the fumbling of bodies as he slotted himself inside you and the casual roll of his hips as he drilled into you.

His head at your entrance was undeniably overwhelming, the feel of it dragging back and forth along your slit, slipping in twice before he finally sunk inside—his body covering yours as he breathed a “There you go,” against your lips. “Take it for me, baby.”

His words helped with the ease, the burn of the stretch still prevalent but the need to please him, to be good for him, dulled the pain. The kisses on your forehead, the whispered, strained praise as he pressed inside of you, words jumbled and hurried—no sense to half of them—until he was fully inside you, balls pressed against your ass and a tear trailing into your hairline.

Joel kissed it away, lips closing around the salty liquid, pulling away to gaze at your expression. His palms settled against either side of your head, grounding himself—trying to remain the competent party between the two of you, pulling his teeth between his lips and clenching his jaw as his fists curled into the sheets.

When he’d settled and become comfortable with the tightness of you around him, he kissed you again, lips wet and swollen from where he’d bit at them—a full-mouthed kiss. Opening you up, distracting you from the length of him pulling away, leaving your cunt open and lonely, then the gasp and shudder as he pushed back into you.

“J-Joel,” you stuttered out, unable to recall if you’d said anything except his name for the past hour.

“I know, babydoll, I know.”

He started slow, hips rolling, cock sliding: in and out, round and round, pubic bone catching on your clit—the sweet pressure that clouded you, that left you boneless and aching. The moan you let out was something that you would’ve been embarrassed by if it wasn’t for his praise. The sweet “Good girl,” that crept past his lips, followed by the “Keep makin’ those pretty little noises for me.” It could’ve been perceived as affection if it wasn’t for the growling tone it was uttered with, a particular harsh thrust that was met with a grunt and a whine.

The world around you slipped away, the only constant being Joel and his hooded gaze, his parted mouth as he sucked in every breath you exhaled. Those perfect arms hooking around you, locking you in with him, the weight of him leaving as he sat up on his haunches to gaze down at the sight of him lost inside you—the fire that danced along your belly as he pulled your legs apart and began thrusting at a pace your mind could not catch up with.

Words muffled in your ears, “Such a sweet little cunt.” A flash of heat down your neck as they reached your cock-muddled brain—whispered right inside your head. “Dreamt about this pussy.” Pace faltering as he parted his mouth and took a deep breath; his eyes fluttering shut. “Always fucking dreamin’ about ya.”

That southern drawl that lulled you right through every sensation, comforting words that helped you gain some amount of strength—just wanting to reach him and pull him close. It was cold without him pressed against you. Detached. In a way you didn’t want to be, in a way that you had always thought sex shouldn’t be.

When he grumbled out, “My perfect girl,” you couldn’t stand the separation anymore, pushing up on your forearms and somehow managing to jump him, bracketing his thighs and swinging your arms around his neck—kissing him madly.

The surprised grunt he let out made you smile, his hips stilling as you sat on him—feeling him so deep inside you it felt like he was stabbing at your stomach. You whined against his lips when he rolled his hips upwards, losing the will to move as you buried your face in his neck.

Bodies entwined, limbs entangled and a mouth moving against your hair as it uttered words so sinful that you were sure the cross on your bedroom wall, hung right above your bed, would turn upside down all on its own. The devil in your room, his spawn fucking you on your bed and a laugh on God’s lips because he always knew you were false. That there was no verity to your prayers, that you weren’t ever a true daughter; that you would never spend eternity with him when you fell from the burning bridge to the lake.

“Does my baby wanna ride?” he asked, hands on your ass, moving you up and down along his length whilst he smiled into your hair. Enjoying the desperation—basking in the way you pleaded for him.

You nodded your head at his question, unable to breathe with the casual move of his hips paired with the strong manhandle as he moved you along him.

“Wanted to feel you,” you mumble out softly, entirely dumb with the feel of him—sweat dripping down each body and mingling at the bottom of a well. “Just wanted you.”

Within Joel Miller, in all his outright madness, past all that anger and tribulation, lay a vulnerability you had always wanted to pull from him. A vulnerability that he showed you, in your bed, with you wrapped around him, grinding your hips against his to feel that growth in your stomach. Vulnerability that he perfectly lay in front of you with broken laces lined up in an order, as he whined. A low, breathy thing that had something snapping inside you—a primal instinct as your slick spilt onto his thighs and your brain decided to give him everything.

You reached up to drag your hands through his hair, using his hands on your ass as a guide—where to start and where to stop, where to speed up and slow down—as you rode him. Nails dragged down to his shoulders, digging into the skin of his back as he bucked his hips upwards.

“Pretty, pretty, baby,” he mumbled. “Think about you all the time. Think about that perfect little face when I’m jerkin’ off.”

Such crude words had your heart fluttering, your pace picking up as you pressed your forehead against his and chased that fleeting high. Unable to think of the comedown in the moment, too enraptured by his arms holding you tight against him, the slight dusting of hair against his chest that stimulated your nipples so perfectly and of course, his gorgeous fucking cock that dragged inside you with the sweetest of scrapes. Pushing and pulling, touching against the mind-numbing spot inside you with every thrust—every time you slammed down against his hips.

“I- I,” you managed to breathe out when it all came flooding in. A hurricane swept past the county, headed straight for your home, walls down and completely defenceless when you felt the wind knocking against the panes. “Joel.”

“Shhh, baby, I got you.” He wrapped his left arm fulling around your waist, placing the right against your face to tilt your head back. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

Rain was fully beating down on your shelter, dripping through the rafters—threatening to push through the roof and flood you with debris.

“I got you,” he repeated, holding you tight as there was nowhere else to go. Nowhere to run. Just wait for the glass to break and the door to slam open.

You could only moan, unable to keep moving—just letting him do all the work. To keep doing exactly as he had been as the rain came pouring in through the cracks, water rising so fast you were waist-deep in it by the time he muttered a “Let go for me,” his hand moving to cradle the back of your head and keep you locked in place. “C’mon, baby, give daddy another one.”

His words broke the glass entirely, the roof caving in as the hurricane raged, inching closer and closer until it found you—beating you right to the floor.

It was a continual cry of his name, his words sweet in your ear as he worked you through it, tone strangled and tense as his stomach clenched and he thrust his hips at breakneck speed—deciding that he couldn’t focus on you any longer as he was beaten to the ground by the twister alongside you.

Pulling away hastily, he reached a hand down to rub his cock, fisting at the length until he spilt over you with a broken moan and painted your stomach with the making of your union.

You were still twitching when his breathing slowed, his arm still tight around you; not quite ready to let go yet.

The storm had passed, and you were left with the damage of its destruction.

Broken furniture, ravaged landscape, and a hole where you and Joel lay—fingers brushing against one another as you reached out to him.

There was a brief moment of peace, the time between now and what was to come, pausing as if to grant you the sweet mercy of holding on for just a minute longer.

Then, as quickly as it came it was gone, a single kiss to your lips before he gently laid you down, hesitating just a moment, gazing at you like he wanted to stay, before deciding that he was too stubborn to go against his word, and stood up from the bed to find his pants.

Stupidly, in your fucked-out, hazy state of mind, you decided to ignore everything he’d said before: about you not being permanent. Some part of you wanted to believe that he had said it just to hurt you, that there was no real meaning behind them except mindless arrogance and a will to push you away because he was afraid.

“You aren’t staying?”

He paused his movements, halfway through putting his jeans on, and looked at you with something akin to disgust.

“What’d I tell you, princess?”

It was awful. That switch.

As soon as his dick wasn’t wet and leaking, he was gone. Lost to the tunnels of his mind, trapped in a maze that had no exit. You couldn’t find him—couldn’t see that Joel that had been there just moments ago, calling you pretty and perfect. Telling you that you were his girl.

You’d agreed, you knew you had. It didn’t make it any less painful as he refused to look at you when he re-buckled his belt, didn’t even glance over when you reached down for the blankets and pulled them around you—suddenly feeling entirely exposed.

All you could do was watch: in an awkward silence. Scan his face for anything as he pulled his shirt over his head and didn’t even dare sit on the bed to put his boots back on.

It was hurtful when he reached into his back pocket to shake out a cigarette, bringing it to his lips and flicking open his zippo in a way that shouldn’t have been so damn attractive.

“Joel?” Where the bravery had come from, you didn’t know, your body shaking under the covers as his eyes landed on yours for the first time since he’d stared at you as you came undone.

“Mhm?” he grunted out in response, breathing out the smoke and going straight in for another drag.

What you were going to say, you hadn’t thought out. You hadn’t thought out the entire encounter in general and in that moment it felt like you hadn’t thought out anything in your entire life. So, when the mumbled, “Thank you,” fell from your lips and the harsh chuckle fell from his, you couldn’t quite stop the feeling of utter embarrassment and humiliation.

You’d promised him you wouldn’t tell anyone, that you wouldn’t go spouting his business to the park's biggest gossips, so you wouldn’t. You’d have to sit with it, to go back to lying on your bedroom floor every day and regretting everything and everyone. Rehashing every person you had wronged when you were stuck in the harshest depths of your mind, every time you’d been beaten down by those out to get you—every fork in the road you’d come across that seemed to harbour identical destinations: damnation.

“Gratitude accepted,” he mumbled out, cigarette perched between his lips—inhaling and exhaling with it still in his mouth.

For some reason, you wanted to cry. Your throat closed, lip quivering and tears forming in your waterline. You suppressed it—at least, you tried to. He’d already seen you cry before. You had no interest in letting him see it again.

There was a heavy silence as he stood there smoking, eyes trained on you and taking note of your throat bobbing as you swallowed down the lump. You knew you’d been caught then, his twitching jaw that he rid of with another drag of the cigarette, the slight sigh that he huffed out through his nose and the single nod of his head as he walked the few paces to your bed and sat down atop the mattress.

Quietly, he gestured the burning stick towards you, watching as you accepted it gratefully. It helped rid the ache in your chest.

“I said I didn’t wanna say I told you so,” he said, running a hand over his scruff before placing it on your thigh—skin burning through the thin material.

You sniffled, trying to maintain composure as you jutted your chin out and gave him the hardest of stares you could muster.

“And I said I understood.” You let the cigarette burn between your fingers—the single drag making you feel sick to your stomach. “I’m not…naive. Not stupid either.”

“I know,” he said plainly. “I know.”

“Then why are you still here?” It was said bitterly, a tone that you hadn’t wanted to take with him but left your body unconsciously as some form of repressed rage came bubbling in pieces through you.

He swallowed calmly, pulling his hand away as he plucked the cigarette from between your fingers—deciding he needed it more than you did.

“Just wanted to…” he cleared his throat upon hearing the strain in his tone, seemingly struggling to speak the words aloud. “Just wanted to make sure you understood.”

“And I do,” you countered quickly.

“Good,” he countered even quicker.

Your skin was burning, and your cunt began to ache with the loss of him—the imprint that he’d left inside you that you were sure would be there for some time.

The smell of tobacco was starting to make you feel sick, the scent of sex in the air a harsh reminder of everything you’d gained and lost in the space of a few hours.

The sun hid itself behind the horizon, its light no longer shining through and piercing your heart.

It was instead the harsh stab of his gaze, the lasting feeling of his hands on your thighs and the intense tightness in your chest every time you looked at him, that broke you completely.

“You can go,” you mumbled, watching his face for any sign that he didn’t want to do as you asked—that he’d finally lay beside you and stroke your hair as he told you everything he’d done wrong. Just so maybe you could feel normal. Like someone else in this world had finally seen you and understood that you weren’t perfect—that there were more flaws than strengths and more fuckups than good decisions.

There was nothing. Just a blank stare as he stood, knees cracking and back aching—walking away and leaving the phantom feel of him inside you, nestled between your legs.

“See you ‘round,” he mumbled, standing in the doorway.

“Yeah, okay.”

There was a pause as he waited, eyes firmly on the floor as he screwed his brow up—looking like he was thinking hard. Weighing up his options before flicking his gaze up and landing on you: naked and trembling in bed.

“I still mean it.” You were confused for a moment, waiting for a confession, hoping in the grandest of your delusions that he’d change his mind and love you till the end of time. Then, the confirmation that, upon close inspection, seemed to be the closest to a confession you would ever get. “You need anythin’, I’ll be there.”

You nodded to show you understood, unable to speak in fear you’d crack and crumble, and watched with a deep longing in your heart as he turned his back on you, and walked away.

His footsteps were heavy against the floor, his power reverberating all throughout the trailer—the gentleness he displayed in small gifts of protectiveness and affection, shown through the way he closed the door as quietly as he could. If it wasn’t for the creak of the steps, you would’ve thought he hadn’t left at all.

When you were sure he was gone, you allowed yourself a moment to cry, turning over in bed to curl up in a ball of self-pity.

Why he couldn’t stay, you were unsure. Why he wouldn’t hold you close, if only for one night, you didn’t know. You didn’t know anything. You were lost in a world you were so sure was not meant for you, knowing right there, in the sweat of your bed with tears dripping off your nose, that you did not know Joel Miller and would never know him for as long as he lived.

Cracking him open was like trying to split a coconut with nothing but your bare hands.

Crying with no one to hold you, those final words of admission ran through your head; you knew that this problem, you could not go to him with. That the word “anything,” was a courtesy and a promise he could not cater to.

Head pounding with disdain, tears running with despondency, chest aching so painfully you thought your heart would fail. In some way, you wished it would. Just so you could rest for a moment. Because you couldn’t without the warmth of him behind you, his arms tugging you close and lips on the side of your head—whispering everything that had pulled him to you and kept him there.

Turning around to face your window, pressing a palm to your head like it would take away the pain, you gazed at the trailer that neighboured yours. The cracks and cobwebs that littered its surface, the two chairs that spent every waking moment together, tucked into their own corner of the world where they could whisper and giggle—expel every truth because all that time had left them with nothing but absolute trust.

You realised that sitting in the chair on the left, the one that had no owner would mean that you and Joel would have to navigate the same type of relationship: one that relied on a bond unbroken by anything except their mistakes and mistruths.

You faced away, closing your eyes and willing God to send you an eternal sleep—pathetically pretending that he was there beside you as you ran a finger over the drying cum on your stomach and the lingering bruising inside of you that left a blood on your thighs and a butterfly in your head as it knocked against each surface of your skull and fell gracelessly when it came hurtling against the wall.

a/n: well, i finally got it out!! not entirely pleased with it but i never am lol. it's only half proofread just because i got bored halfway through and only went through what i wrote today. either way, i hope you enjoyed it!! maybe...there'll be more chapters after this. it's quite a depressing ending which is what i like best tbh but it'd be nice to see joel finally stop being a dick :))

thanks for reading !

taglist: @1maasrpe

#virginreprise™#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us fanfiction

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violettwrites · 1 month ago

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company of misfits — tp!daryl

a/n: thank u nonnie for sending this request in !! i absolutely love writing the tp!trio honestly, their banter is some of the best. even when reader is in a bad mood 🥺

i hope you enjoyed, and i hope i did your request justice ! if you guys did enjoy, please don’t forget to like, reblog, and/or comment, and give me a follow if you want to see more of my work ! i always appreciate the support ! and as always, my ask box is open ! i will link it below

summary: reader has a bad day, and the dixon brothers know just how to make it more bearable.

requested: anon requested; hii dear!! could you write some fluff in the tp!daryl au, where reader has a bad day and is in a very bad mood, and the brothers notice that and try to cheer them up? (they have no idea what to do but they are trying their best)

word count: 1,011

warnings: swearing, alcohol

resources: divider by @/adornedwithlight

➵ masterlist

➵ ask box

you trudged up the dirt path through the trailer park, the weight on your shoulders from the day hanging heavy as you made your way towards your trailer. the sun was high in the afternoon sky— and having just worked a ridiculously long shift at the local diner, you were just done with the day; even though it wasn’t over yet.

as you neared your trailer, you noticed the dixon brothers outside theirs, beers in hand as they chatted lazily. daryl was the first to notice you, his blue eyes immediately trained on your figure. he noticed how your shoulders were slumped, your face showed no emotion, and he could just tell you had a shit day. he had seen that look on you before. merle, oblivious as ever, was busy recounting some story from his time in lockup. but daryl nudged him with his foot, nodding his head towards your figure as you made your way into your trailer— praying your dad wasn’t home, because that would just add to the mountain of shit on your shoulders.

both daryl and merle stood up and made their way towards your trailer, letting themselves in. they knew your dad wasn’t home, because they had seen him leave earlier in his old pickup. where he had gone? they didn’t bother to ask, because why would they speak to a piece of shit like him. your head turned when you heard the door open, spotting the two dixon brothers, and the corner of your lips quirked ever so slightly. you enjoyed their company, but you didn’t really want to be around anyone right now.

“hey, sunshine, what’s eatin’ at ya?” merle was the first to speak— like always —his usual grin plastered across his lips. you didn’t respond, just shrugged your shoulders a little as you plopped onto the couch, head tilting back as you looked at the ceiling. the two brothers followed your lead, sitting down on either side of you, and you internally groaned. they wouldn’t give up until you told them what was wrong.

daryl looked to his brother for guidance, a pointed look on his face as his eyes flickered from merle, to you. “you think i know how to deal with shit like this?” he mouthed back to daryl, and the younger dixon rolled his eyes, directing his attention back to you. he didn’t know how to handle situations like this either. feelings weren’t his strong point.

sighing in annoyance, merle spoke up. “what’s the problem? yer face looks like ya lost a fight with a wasp next.” the analogy made your brows furrow as you looked at merle. he always said some odd shit that you never understood.

“just had a bad day, alright?” you muttered, crossing your arms across your chest as you stared forward, eyes trained on the blank screen of the television in front of you. merle rubbed the back of his neck, looking to daryl for backup this time.

daryl sighed softly, and tried a softer approach. “anything we can do to help?” his voice was quieter, less teasing than his older brother’s.

you shook your head, but the gesture was half-hearted. you didn’t want to burden them with your problems that seemed so large, yet so minuscule at the same time. “not unless you can fix the world in the next five minutes,” you scoffed a little, chewing on your bottom lip.

merle, always the smart ass, grinned widely. “well, darlin’, i ain’t no miracle worker but i could try.”

before you could retort, he disappeared from the living room of your trailer, straight out the door, leaving you and daryl in confused yet curious silence. he watched you figdet with your hands, sensing you were on edge— but he didn’t know how to fix it.

“you don’t gotta talk about it,” he said finally, his voice low, “but you don’t gotta deal with it alone either.”

you looked over at him, wondering when he had become so wise. but there was something earnest in his expression that made your heart soften— just a little. merle returned before you could say anything back though, a bottle of whiskey and a few cups in his hands. “aight, so maybe i can’t fix the world, but i sure as hell can make it go down a bit smoother.”

you watched as he messily poured the liquid into the cups, handing the first one to you as he gave you a wink. “it’s like medicine, but the fun kind.”

you couldn’t help the small smile on your lips, despite yourself. “you think whiskey is gonna solve my problems?” you asked, looking up at him with an amused look.

merle clinked his cup against yours, an eager grin on his lips. “no, but it’ll make ‘em real fuzzy for a bit, an’ sometines that’s all ya need.”

daryl rolled his eyes, but spoke up anyway. “he’s right, y’know? ‘bout makin’ thinks fuzzy.” and you wondered when both of those boys had become so wise in their odd little ways. maybe it was because they knew how to handle bad days without having to confront their issues. they just forgot, in a sense.

for the first time that day, the weight on your shoulders felt a little lighter. it wasn’t the whiskey or the dumb jokes merle kept making, and it wasn’t daryl’s quiet, steady presence at your side. it was all of it together— their clumsy, awkward attempts at cheering you up that actually worked. you took a long drink, feeling the burn of the alcohol chase away that lingering frustration.

“thanks,” you spoke, glancing at the two ot them. “i needed this.”

merle clapped you on the back, grinning like a fool. “that’s what we’re here for, sweetheart! doin the lord’s work, one drink at a time.”

daryl shook his head, but you saw the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. he didn’t need to say anything more. just being there, sitting with you in the fading light, was enough.

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olivermush · 4 months ago

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i love trans!eddie munson hc but listen… he lives in a trailer with his uncle. have you seen his van? what makes u think this poor boy could afford top surgery. go fund mes didnt exist in the 80s (sadly). however! i love seeing little eddie and his little head canons.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x male reader #transgender #trans pride #trans eddie munson

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romanoffsbish · 11 months ago

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Surprise, Surprise

Scarlett Johansson x Reader (no pronouns used)

Scarlett was wrapping up another day on set when she got unexpected news… Aka, R visits her on set | WC: 1,366

A/N: Purely fluff — R is not given any description but their infant is described as looking like them both.

"Your son is the cutest!" Elizabeth sang as she giddily approached Scarlett who had been stood behind an accordion panel, changing out of her characters outfit. The blonde grinned and nodded along, it was the truth and she was used to her costar gushing over your son, but it was usually over photos she'd show her...

——

“His cheeks are just so chubby, and so squishy—you and Y/N created a little cutie; bring him to set more."

"What do you mean more?" Elizabeth's smile fell, "I am now realizing I might've ruined a surprise."

Scarlett smiled at her aloof friend, "Thanks for that!"

Then she took off in a hurry, abandoning her plans to change, leaving in her favorite pair of sweats and her character's black and blue striped crop top instead. It had been a week since she last saw you two, as you both agreed moving your son a lot wasn't ideal, so she filmed during the week and was home on weekends.

Except the last one since she had to film promo for The Outset in New York while your current home was in LA so it was random fleeting hours over FaceTime, and that made her dream for the day her schedule clears.

Scarlett needed you in her arms more than she needed anything else, well besides to kiss your son's cheeks so she kept up a decent pace even though she was winded. Just as she rounded the corner of the lot she caught sight of you walking up the steps of her trailer, her eyes sparkled with joy, but then they narrowed when she saw the diaper bag lowly dangling from your arm, with your other hand cradling your sleeping babies head to your chest, you were clearly trying to safely ascend.

The blonde jogged a little faster, concern ebbing its way into her soul as she saw you move up another step. Just as you were about to move again she arrived, her hand seamlessly took the diaper bag so you could grip the side rails while her other firmed against your back.

Scarlett felt as you sighed and it made her smile, you opened the door and almost as soon as you entered she had circled you and stopped in front of you. "Thanks."

Your wife smirked, "No need to thank me love,” her lips then closed the distance left between yours and her hand pushed you into her, “I always got your back."

Scarlett giggled when you threw your head back with a playful groan, “you’re just so cheesy Scar, stop it…”

Your wife instantly pouted, feigning offense, “Why?”

“Because I can’t have our son following your lead,” you responded while gently cupping his ears to make sure your wife understood the message. “He’s vulnerable.”

Scarlett scoffed, “If I remember correctly it was my corny quips that won you over baby, you ate it up.”

“That’s not how I remember it,” you deflected with ease as you slid from her hold and started to move towards her bed so you could set Noah down, but just before you could she pulled you back in and kissed you until you had forgotten what you were planning to do.

The blonde felt warmth slowly spread throughout her body as she melted into the feeling of your thumbs gently caressing the soft skin of her fuller hips. Just beneath her chin lay the adorable, snoring cause. It was hard for her at first, adjusting to the physical demands of pregnancy but then she had your son.

Not only was he the most adorable infant she’d ever seen, but she saw the natural way in which you took to parenthood. With the unwavering love you not only held, but expressed, like in small moments like these, she learned to cherish the changes and to crave more.

If not for her predetermined, already rearranged once schedule she would have convinced you to make more. Hell, she even considered asking you right now… This is her last commitment for a long while, and shooting was set to wrap up next month. It was the perfect time.

A soft whine pulled the two of you apart just in time for a pouting baby to whip his head back from your chest, his eyes and frown shone with deep grumpiness as he slowly blinked, eyes fluttering with a clear fight as his body decided if it was even ready to be awakened yet.

Scarlett smirked at you and you nodded your head in agreement, the two of you shared another peck before both of your lips firmly planted on your son’s cheeks. He grunted initially but the two of you felt them upturn and a gentle giggle left him at the tickling sensation.

“There’s mama’s happy boy,” Scarlett coo’d and your son’s head whipped to the side as if he had only just realized who it was that kissed you and his right cheek. His giddy babbles warmed your heart but his inability to keep still strained your back and led to you swiftly removing him from the harness so he could leap to her.

Scarlett caught him with ease and you sighed in relief. It was his new favorite habit, he’d just leap from one person to the next, hence the need for a baby carrier to restrain his urges and the potential script for Xanax you’ll need as he becomes more daringly independent.

The two of them were in their own world the moment you were no longer attached to them, swaying softly as she told him all about her week. It almost hurt your feelings but you knew it was their time to bond and hers to finally spill the movie secrets even you weren’t allowed to hear so you ventured off to the bathroom.

When you returned thirty minutes later, after having slipped off to take a walk—something you also needed, they were calmly laying in the bed, your sons sleeping face was now smushed against her exposed abdomen and you smiled at the scene from the ajar door.

“You’re letting a draft in,” your wife teased as she shut the book in her hand. Without a word you replied by shutting the door and moving further into her trailer. Scarlett watched you curiously as you slipped your shoes off then as gently as you could you joined them.

Her fingers softly stroked over the skin of your cheek, then it did the same for your sons right after as you were both currently utilizing her stomach as a pillow. As her hand returned to rest on your head yours moved to continue to caress your son’s sweet face.

Noah was your first of hopefully many, miracles, the perfect blend of you two in both features and attitude. Scarlett’s heart nearly combusted as she saw the same desires she held for months now blossom in your eyes.

“How much longer until you’re all ours Scarlett?” The blonde gently guided your face until your chin was resting against the softened muscles of her abs. “I am always all yours,” she smiled gently, her gaze genuine as she stroked your cheek. “My entire heart is here.”

“Entire?” She nodded, gaze a bit confused as you questioned her level of loyalty. “That’s too bad…”

Now she was amused, and played right along, “Why?”

“Kinda hoping there’s room for more,” you began, voice light and lovestruck as you cradled your son’s face in one hand and reached out for hers. “More?”

You nodded, then confirmed her hopes, “More little ones just like this goober that’s drooling all over you.”

Scarlett beamed, “I’ve been hoping you’d say that for actual months now baby. I want endless little you’s.”

You smiled as you placed a gentle kiss to the subtle ridges that adorned her stomach before nuzzling against the warm skin—an attempt to burrow into her which you knew to be impossible, yet you always tried.

“I love you, my beautiful baby mama,” you mumbled tiredly, lips gentle as they kissed her belly once more. The blonde chucked then stared down at your calm face in relief. “I love you too, you beautiful fool.”

#scarlett johansson #scarlett johansson blurb #scarlett johansson fluff #scarlett johansson imagine #scarlett johansson x reader #scarlett johansson x female reader #scarlett johansson x you #scarlett johansson x y/n #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #gxg

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etherealxwitch · 2 years ago

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Car Troubles

Pairing: Mechanic!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’ll do anything to get your neighbors attention. Even going as far as to break your car.

Warnings: Warnings: SMUT (MINORS DNI) slight dom!eddie, sexual tension, oral (m and f receiving), dirty talk, check in (spotlight), name calling: (slut, baby, pretty girl), face fucking, ball worship, spit, slapping, spanking, breath play, pet names, rimming, unprotected vaginal sex, squirting, breeding kink, creampie

WC: 4.2K

(Hoping ya’ll enjoy this fic!)

Remember to reblog and support the author!

You couldn’t believe what you were actually doing right now.

The hood to your car was up and you were bent over looking inside it as if you were trying to find the problem, but you know what it already was. The problem was that you took out something called a “spark plug” and tossed it behind your trailer, so far away in the trees that you knew it wouldn’t be found.

Why were you doing this? Your hot neighbor has been working on his van for weeks and as much as you tried to get more of his attention, it never went to plan. So, now here you are with a “broken down” car and all the opportunity in the world at your fingertips.

Now, you’ve known Eddie since high school, but you two were in different friend groups and never had much interaction before. Except for the occasional partnering up for an in class assignment or seeing him step out into his trailer porch for a late night smoke (secretly hoping he would come over to your porch and offer you one). He would always wave over to you, causing you to get those school girl-like butterflies in your stomach. You had always had a crush on him as well.

How could you not? Eddie was always seen as this “no good boy who played a devilish game,” but you were into that. You were into the thought of him being the forbidden fruit that Eve couldn’t have. Just the mere thought sent chills down your spine.

When you looked over at Eddie, your jaw nearly dropped. He had his hair in a low messy bun, some of the shorter hairs falling in his face, and his mechanic overalls tied lowly on his hips. To make matters worse, he was covered in oil and grease, it staining his skin the the white wife beater that he was wearing. Your bit at your bottom lip and gawked at him; as if he was some sex god and from what you’ve heard from some of the women in town, he was a sex god.

Were you bending over your car and making a show of it? Definitely. You were in the shortest shorts you could find; your ass cheeks poking out of the bottom of the shorts and jiggling with each move you made. When you would turn around for a drink of water, you would make sure to let some drip down the valley of your breast, patting yourself on the back when you noticed that Eddie would watch the drip.

Eddie had noticed you as soon as you walked out your door. He noticed the way your shorts hugged your ass perfectly and how your titties would bounce while you walked down the steps. His cock would twitch in his boxers and now he had the chance to talk to you, he wasn’t going to pass that up.

“You need help with something?”

Oh shit, you were caught. When you looked up at his face, he was smirking and wiping his hands over his shirt. The sight of his eyes on you alone was making your face turn beet red and your head speed up.

“U-uh, yeah actually.” Suddenly your mouth was very dry and you didn’t know how to form words. “My car, it won’t-it won’t start.” You nervously fiddled with your fingers as he walked over to you and your car, his hip lightly bumping into yours.

Eddie leaned over your car, looking to see what was wrong with him. You got a whiff of his cologne and couldn’t help but clench your thighs. He smelled like Old Spice, cars, and a hint of weed. It made you want him even more.

You were too lost in your thoughts to notice that Eddie had stood back up and faced you, his body close to yours. “Looks like your spark plug is missing. How does that happen?”

“Missing? That doesn’t make any sense.” You tried to not give it away that you were the reason, so you looked to where the spark plug originally was, shock witten on your face. “Could it have come loose and fell out? Is this possible?”

Eddie flashed you a toothy grin before shutting the hood of your car. “It’s unheard of for something like that to happen, but I guess it could.” He leaned against your car, his hips pushing out a little and you swore you could see the outline of his cock through the bottom of the overalls.

You subtly try to wipe the sweat from your forehead, hoping that he doesn’t see the effect he has over you. “So, what do I do now?”

“Well, I could give you a ride to an auto shop so you can buy the part you need or,” he took a step closer to you, his chest now centimeters from your own. “You can tell me why I saw you throw it behind your trailer earlier.” Eddie smirked at your face, you had been caught and you knew it. There was no going back now.

“Fuck, you saw that?” Eddie nodded and your face turned even more red than it was before. “I just wanted an excuse to talk to you and I know you’ve been working on your van recently, so I thought my car not working would help.”

Eddie laughed and got closer to you so that you were now leaning against the front of your car. “You wanted my attention? Is that why you’re wearing this small outfit?” His fingers toyed at the hem of your shirt. “Why when you bent over, you shook your ass thinking I wouldn’t see it.”

His hands wrapped around your waist and trailed down to cup your ass, causing you to let out a small gasp. “I craved your attention.” You backed into his touch, already wanted more of it. “I would’ve gone a lot further if you didn’t catch me.”

“Is that so? How far are we talking?” His face was close to yours, so close that you could feel his breath fan across your lips and cheeks. His voice was deep and raspy: lust practically rolled off his tongue and into your lungs, feeling you with need.

You slid your hands down the front of his overalls and you could feel his cock harden at the warmth of your hands. “Maybe I would’ve left my curtains open and let you watch me strip, or let you watch me play with my pussy to the thought of you wrecking it? I’ve done it so many times,” you squeezed at the outline of his cock, his head falling so his forehead was now pressed against yours. “Came so many times to the thought of your cock ruining all my holes.”

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to come over here and have a quick fuck,” he pulled your hips to yours, his cock resting against you. “Always wanted to know what that pussy would feel like wrapped around my cock. Bet it feels like heaven.”

A sudden burst of confidence ran through your body as you reached a hand into his hair and gave it a tug. “Why don’t you stop being such a gentleman and find out.”

Eddie took that opportunity and ran with it. He grabbed ahold of your hand and led you to his trailer, decided against yours since he didn’t even know where your room was. As soon as the two of you made it through his door, his lips were against yours. It was a fast and messy kiss; wet tongues sliding over each other and teeth clanking every once in a while. He bit at your bottom lip and trailed his kisses down your neck, making sure to bite and suck hard enough to leave a hickey. You whined out, grinding your hips against his. The need you had for each other is very evident.

“Before we start,” he gently gripped your cheek to make you look at him, “you have to tell me when you don’t like something, okay? Red to stop, yellow to slow it down, and green to keep going.”

You nodded your head, not trusting yourself to speak because you might just moan from how close his body was to you at this moment.

“No, I need to hear you say that you understand.”

“Yes, I understand.” You gripped his shirt, pulling him even closer to you. “Now, please, can we continue?”

Eddie laughed at your eagerness and gave you the go ahead, your lips immediately finding his neck and nibbling on it. You were getting such a rise out of him, he was used to doing all the work.

“Don’t know how long I’ve wanted this, Eddie.” Your hand reached for the rubber-band that held his hair in a bun and pulled on it, letting his curly hair flow around him. “Need it down so I can tug on it while you eat my pussy.”

“Such a filthy mouth,” he led you further into the trailer, right into his room. “Think we need to give you something to occupy it.”

Immediately, you dropped to your knees in front of him. “Please? I’ve always wanted to choke on your cock.”

You reached your hands up and pulled down his overalls, his boxers falling with them. The second his cock sprung up in front of your face, your jaw dropped. His cock was thick: veins running across it, and a red mushroom tip that dripped with precum. You knew that it was going to split your holes open, but you didn’t have an ounce of regret.

“Holy shit… i-it’s huge!” You didn’t have words, you were too struck by how perfect his cock was.

“Don’t act so shy now.” Eddie carded a finger through your hair and pulled, angling your head perfect for him. He grabbed his cock and tapped the tip against your lips, smearing some of the precum over them. “Open that mouth up for me, yeah?”

You opened your mouth, your tongue hanging out, just begging for attention. Eddie slid the tip of his cock over the warm muscle and groaned, the hand in your hair tightening. “Always knew you had such a nice mouth,” he thrusted his cock forward, making you gag and tears brimming your eyes. “Gonna throat train you, make my cock fit perfectly in your throat.”

As you whined around his cock, he brought another hand down and held your head still. “Yeah, stay just like that.” He moved his hips, his cock sliding further down your throat and his balls squishing against your chin. Spit began to form in the corners of your mouth, slowly dripping down your chin and sticking to his heavy balls. Each time you tighten your throat, he groans, his head falling forward to watch you swallow his cock. “Shit, never knew you’d be this cock hungry. You’re just so eager to please me, so eager to get my cock in your wet pussy.”

Eddie was wrong about your pussy being wet. It wasn’t just wet, but soaked. You could feel yourself begin to soak through your panties and into your shorts, ruining your clothes. Having him say such dirty things to you and using your throat as a fleshlight was such a turn on, you couldn’t help it. You looked up at him, seeing his eyes roll in the back of his head and his mouth hanging open, he looked so good from this angle. You moved your hips against the air, looking for some kind of friction. Your whole body ached for an orgasm like never before.

“Look at you,” he pulled his cock from your throat, your saliva dripping from it. “You aching to be touched?” His hand caressed your cheek before smacking you, making you moan out. “You don’t get anything until I’m done with ruining your throat, got it?”

His cock slammed back into your throat, making tears flow down your cheek as you gag louder than before. “Hold it, you can take this. You wanted it bad, remember?” His fingers came down and plugged your nose. You struggled to breathe and he just smirked down at you. “Having some trouble?”

Your nails raked down his naked thighs, leaving red marks in his wake. Slowly, you could feel your lungs start to burn from the lack of air and just when you thought it was too much, he let your nose go. His cock still rested in your throat and you could feel it twitch and throb against your tongue.

“Fuck, I’m glad I can finally ruin your throat.” Eddie pulled his cock again, but this time he stepped closer and smashed your mouth against his balls. “But don’t these deserve some attention too?”

Your spit dribbled over the heavy balls, soaking them and making them easier to roll your tongue around. Eddie didn’t know this, but you went weak in the knees for balls. You sucked them into your mouth, gargling around them and trying your best to smirk while he grabbed at your head.

“God damn, that’s a good girl.” He grinded his balls against your mouth, your tongue staying still so he could use you as he pleases.

His balls became sticky as they pressed all over your face, catching on your nose and chin, but you had not a care in the world. It was only making you more soaked being used this way.

You felt as Eddie’s balls drew up and his cock twitched against his forehead, he was close and excited ran through your body. He pulled your face from his balls and forced your mouth open with his thumb, making sure it was wide enough. “You’re gonna catch every fucking drop.”

His hand pumped his cock, squeezing at the tip. The muscles of his stomach tightened and his breath for more ragged as thick ropes of cum shot out: your tongue catching all that you could, some hitting your cheeks. “Oh god, yes.” The tip of his cock got more red as more cum shot out, dripping right into your mouth. “So good for me, so fucking good.”

Tightly, his eyes squeezed shut as he kept filming until his balls were almost empty. When he finally opened his eyes back up, he smirked down at you. You swallowed his cum and scooped up what you missed, sucking on your fingers and shoving them down your throat. You were putting on a show for him.

“You’re a cum hungry slut.” Eddie kicked the clothes that pooled around his ankles to the side and tore off his shirt before helping you stand up. “It’s your turn to get ruined, pretty girl.” He pushed you back on the back, your head flopping into the pillows.

Eddie didn’t even have time to strip you, you were already sliding your shorts and panties down your legs, your pussy glistening in the sunlight peeking through the windows. You were so soaked that you were dripping down onto the sheets below you, already making a mess. You looked at Eddie, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip. He was looking at you like a starving man ready to devour his last meal.

You reached a hand down to play with your swollen clit, but Eddie slapped it away. “This is mine to play with.” He kneeled between your legs and spread your thighs further apart. His thumbs came down and spread your pussy lips apart, your slick stringing between them. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“Can’t be the death of you now,” you bucked your hips up, silently begging to be touched. “Haven’t had you inside me yet.”

Soft kisses trailed up one of your thighs before you felt a cold breath fan over your pussy, you clenched around nothing. “O-oh,” you weren’t expecting just that breath to make you feel so good, but you whined out, needing more.

“Look at you,” Eddie swiped his thumb over your clit, causing your legs to shake some. “So wet and just begging to be touched,” he applied pressure to your clit, making you moan out and flop your head into the pillows. “Begging to be licked.”

“Please,” you reached down and tried your best to cup the back of his neck. You needed him closer, needed to feel his tongue on you. “I want you to taste me, make me cum.”

Eddie leaned his head down and swiped his tongue over your clit, humming to himself at the taste. “So sweet, knew it would be.” He licked again, this time with more pressure, making you gasp and squeeze your eyes shut. “Want you to make a mess on my tongue, baby.”

Your legs locked around Eddie’s head as he practically dove into your pussy. His tongue swirled around every part of it, the sound of his spit and your wetness almost louder than your moans.

“H-holy fuck.” Your hands gripped the sheets below you, your body becoming hot with pleasure. “You’re so good, Eddie.”

Eddie’s moans reverberated through your body, your legs shaking around his hand now. The shaking only got worse when he suckled your swollen clit into your mouth, his teeth gently biting at it.

Your back arched up, now resting on your elbows to look at him eating you up. The sight before you almost had you cumming in a second. His big brown eyes were looking right at you, they were dark and full of want. You could see his tongue poke out and lick over your clit before sucking it back in his mouth. His fingers were digging into your thighs, keeping them tight around his head to hold his head still.

“Yes! Right there, right there.” Your hips grinding against his mouth, the coil inside of you tightening each second.

For a second, Eddie pulled away from you, unlocking your legs from his head. You went to whine out at the loss of contact, but stopped when he pushed your legs towards your chest, your hips now almost completely off the bed. He leaned down and spit on your puckered hole and you swear you could see stars form behind your eyes.

“Color?” His thumb swiped over the hole, spreading his spit around.

“Green, very green.” You moaned loudly as soon as his tongue licked over your soaked hole before sliding the tip of it inside. “E-Eddie!”

While his tongue was pumping in and out of your ass, two of his rough fingers slid into your welcoming pussy. The curled right up into the spongy spot inside you, pressing on it. Your moans became louder, the coil inside of you finally unraveling.

Before you felt yourself cum, you heard it. Heard yourself gush over his fingers that were deep inside you and felt yourself clench around them. Your body thrashed around, the feeling of yourself cumming making the hairs on your body stand up. “Yes, yes! Please don’t stop, please.”

Eddie pulled away from your ass, his fingers inside your pussy only pumping faster. “Yeah? Keep squirting for me. Make a mess.”

And that you did, below you the sheets were soaked and Eddie’s chest and stomach were covered in it. When you felt his fingers slow down, you finally let out a breath. You’ve squirted before, but never that much.

“O-oh, my god.” You placed a hand over your face, almost too embarrassed to face him after what you just did.

You felt Eddie press small kisses up your stomach and between the valley of your chest before he moved your hand from your now very red chest. “Nothing to be embarrassed about.” He gave you a smirk, trailing the kisses up your cheek to your lips, taking your bottom lip in his before letting it go with a pop. “That was fucking incredible.”

“Are you sure? It was kind of.. a lot.” You couldn’t look him in the eyes, even after he said that it was incredible.

“I’m so sure.” Eddie grabbed your hand and put it right on his cock, it throbbing uncontrollably. “Got me hard again, painfully hard.”

You squeezed your hand and Eddie’s hand gripped your wrist as he bit his lip. “I need to be inside you.” He stripped off his dirty wife beater and threw it somewhere in the room, your shirt quickly following it.

He flipped you over, your stomach now pressed against the mattress and your ass in the air. You looked over your shoulder and gave Eddie a wink before wiggling your ass, signaling just how ready you were for him and his cock. “Please fuck me, Eddie.”

Not having to be told twice, Eddie got behind you. He grabbed his cock and tapped it against your clit, chuckling behind you when you let out a small whine. Just as you went to open your mouth to beg again, Eddie slid in. Immediately, he bottomed up, his balls finding home right against your clit. The feeling caused your head to fall toward, your face now in the pillows.

“No, no.” Eddie grabbed you by your hair, forcing your back against his sweaty chest. “Need to hear those pretty noises from your mouth,” his other hand reeled back before smacking your ass, a handprint sure to be visible in the morning. “Got it?”

“Y-yes, I got it.” You grind your hips against him, his cock nudging inside of you. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah?” He pulls all the way out, his tip the only thing in your pussy before slamming back in, sending your body forward with how much force was behind your thrust.

“Eddie!” Your throat burned with how loud you screamed his name, almost like you carved it inside your body.

His hips rocked against yours, his balls squishing against your clit. Your body shook with pleasure, already so close to cumming and losing full control of yourself.

“Such a good pussy, knew it would just be perfect for my cock.” Both of his hands grabbed at your hips and had you meet his thrusts halfway. “Gonna feel this pussy up, watch as my cum drips out of you.” Eddie leans forward to your ear, his teeth barely catching your earlobe. “Maybe even get you pregnant, can’t let all the cum go to waste.”

“Please, just use me.” At this point you didn’t care what he said, you wanted it all with him. “Want your cum inside me, want to be so full of it.”

“That’s a good slut, just so eager to do what I want.”

Each slide of his cock was sending chills up and down your spine, making your body shake. The moans were just spilling out of you now, getting louder each time.

“This is my pussy now, yeah?” Eddie’s hand came down and spanked you again, your ass rippled under his touch. “I said,” he pulled out before slamming his cock back in, your thighs buckling under you. “Is this my pussy?”

“Yes!” Your body was on fire, pleasure flooding your nerves endings, “it’s all yours.”

The faster Eddie’s thrust got, the closer you got to cumming. You could tell he was close to, his thrusts becoming sloppier and his hold on your hips becoming tighter. The two of you were moaning in sync, your pussy clenching around his cock and his cock hitting your g-spot.

Your body slouched forward, the feeling of his cock wrecking you being too much to hold yourself up anymore.

His arm snaked around your body and found your aching clit, rubbing hard and fast figure 8’s on it. And that’s when it happened, your vision began to blur and your whole body convulsed under his touch. You came around his cock; a silent scream leaving you as your knuckles turned white with the grip you had on the pillows in front of you. Your cum dripped down his cock, the squelching sound becoming louder.

“Fuck, fuck- I’m cumming, baby.” Eddie’s body fell against your back, his hips now slamming into yours hard enough to leave bruises. Inside you, his cock twitched as he came, painting your insides white. “God damn!”

Your hips grinding against his again until you both stopped cumming, giving you both time to relax. He pulled out and you moaned at the feeling, his cum mixed with yours dripping out of you and down your thighs.

You reached down and scooped it up before shoving it back inside you, making sure Eddie was watching you, “you said we couldn’t let it go to waste.”

Behind you, Eddie was resting on his knees with a smirk plastered on his face. “You’re fucking amazing.” You flipped over to lay on your back and he joined you, pulling you close to him. “Always figured you’d be amazing though.”

“Me? Did you see how hard you made me squirt? That’s all you!” You laid your head on his chest and listened to his fast heartbeat, just glad to be this close to him. “What do we do now?”

“Well, now,” his fingers ran over your back, drawing imaginary shapes, “we relax before going outside to try and find your spark plug that you threw.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” You laughed, “didn’t know it would be so easy to get your attention.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Eddie kissed your head, he was being sweet which is a good thing after he just wrecked you inside out. “After we find it, we can come back here for round two, three, four…”

“Yeah? Sounds good to me.” Your pussy was in for it, but you didn’t care. You were happy to be getting some good dick, especially from Eddie.

tagging: @onehotgreasymechanic @thefreakofhawkins86 @wroteclassicaly @magnoliabutters

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things smut #eddie munson fanfic #mechanic!eddie munson #mechanic!eddie #bee’s st fics

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abbys-wifey · 5 months ago

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GOOD PIECE OF MEAT

pairing: sevika x female reader

warnings: men.

A/N: soooo…. hey guys. i’m back-ish. i won’t be updating like regularly but i will give you guys the odd one shot. since the trailer of arcane has come out i decided to start redoing arcane oneshots so feel free to request some, i may not be able to do heaps of requests but i will do a few. sorry for abandoning you guys for so long btw i just lost my love for writing for a bit but it coming back now so yay. anyway i love sevika with my whole heart and LEMME KNOW WHAT U THINK OF THE ARCANE TRAILER IN THE COMMENTS PLEASE. i need people to talk about this with. i missed you all :))

I was freezing to say the least. The cold streets of Zaun were no place for me right now, not at this time of night, especially when I had left my jacket back at my apartment. And so I head quickly to the Last Drop making sure to stay away from the shadowy corners and avoid the lingering looks of the strangers within the musky alleys.

Finally, the dimly lit bar comes into view. Music and shouts echo outside the entrance as I walk towards it, excited to finally see the person I had been missing all day.

“Name and business?” The bouncer extends a hand out stopping me from reaching the front door, his expression lacking any sort of emotion. I hadn’t seen him before, no doubt new to this job and so blissfully unaware of who I am. “I’m here to see my girlfriend.” I frown still shivering in the outside air. “Who?” The bouncer replies crossing his arms and raising one caterpillar looking eyebrow.

“Sevika.”

Instantly his stature changes. Eyes widen in shock and his stance becomes a lot more hospitable. “Welcome to the Last Drop. You’re looking ravishing tonight.” He smiles almost too kindly and opens the door ushering me inside.

The bar smells of alcohol and sweat, nothing I hadn’t smelt before but still, not necessarily pleasant. Ignoring the scent in the air I scan the crowd till I find my girlfriend who sits with an accomplished smirk on her lips. Surrounded by four other men, she plays cards obviously winning as the others sit sullen faced or groaning in defeat.

Pushing through the sea of people I make my way over, Sevikas eyes meeting mine as I reach the table. “Hi baby.” I smile happy to finally see my girlfriend after a long day at work.

She grins throwing her cards face up onto the table eliciting groans from the other four members although her eyes stay locked on me.

“Hi princess, did you have a good day?” She reaches for my hand with her flesh one gently tugging me onto her lap and pressing a kiss to the side of my head as I face the rest of the table.

“Yeah, it was ok.” I reply looking up at her with a small smile. “I missed you though.” I whisper leaning back into her chest. Sevikas grip on my waist tightens as her thumb traces small circles around my hip bone. “Missed you too.” She grunts.

Turning my attention back to the other four at the table I can’t help but let out a small chuckle at their gobsmacked faces.

It wasn’t often I came to the Last Drop, but when I did I always gathered the same reaction. People were astonished at how I somehow had gathered the most feared women in Zauns affection. Her softness towards me especially in public made everyone turn to stare.

“So Miss Muscle Woman has herself a little pet.” One man scoffs his eyes lingering on me. I can feel Sevika tense under my body as he eyes me up again. “Well you picked good Sev, she’s a pretty one alright.” He chuckles again, looking at his mates for back up only for them to shake their heads in fear.

Both Sevikas metal hand and flesh hand softly grip my waist as she lifts me off her lap and onto the chair beside her. The bar goes silent, each and every individual looking over as Sevika stands up to her daunting six foot height in complete silence and slowly stalks round the table to stand in front of the man.

He quickly realises his mistake and holds up his hands in defence as he scurries backwards, falling from his chair. “I-I’m just saying Sev, she’s a very good looking piece of meat you know? Go-Good for you and all. I don’t want her myself but-”

It all happens rather fast. Sevika’s cape is flung off her shoulder and before I can blink the man is cut off, lifted from the ground by his throat. “Apologise to her.” She snarls menacingly as he kicks and wheezes, hands pawing at the metal that slowly carved into his neck. “Now.” Sevika barks tightening her hold causing his eyes to widen as his air way is cut off. The man manages to let out a weak sorry aimed in my direction before he’s dropped to the floor. His breath comes back all at once as he inhales deeply, clutching weakly at his throat.

“Say another word about my girl ever again and I wont make the same mistake of letting you live. Do I make myself clear?” She leans in close to the man holding the front of his shirt as she snarls at him. He nods frantically a few tears rolling down his face and onto the already purple bruise forming on his neck.

Letting his shirt go Sevika goes to stand up again before swinging her flesh fist at his face causing him to go flying backwards, blood splattering against the chair he once sat in.

“And don’t let me catch you in here again.” She shouts after him as he turns on his heel and hobbles out the bar. She smirks satisfied before turning to the rest of the onlookers. “Anyone else got something to say?” She asks, her voice low and dangerous almost daring someone to talk. Immediately everyone goes back to the previous activities trying not to bring attention to themselves.

I breathe out a sigh of relief as Sevika finally turns back to me, her flesh hand coming to land on my cheek stroking it softly as a small frown is etched on her head.

“Are you ok princess?” She asks softly. I nod. “I am now.” I smile and press a kiss to her palm. “Can we go home please ? That made me even more tired.” I ask.

Sevika nods instantly getting her cloak off the floor and reaching for my hand as we walk out the door and into the streets.

Shivering once again I move closer to my girlfriend who chuckles as I cling to her arm. “Here.” She wraps her cloak around my shoulders and presses a kiss to the top of my head.

“I’m not gonna let anything hurt you princess. Not even the cold. Not while I’m around.”

#wlw #sevika #arcane #arcane trailer #sevika x reader #lesbian #sevika x female reader #i love sevika

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zweiginator · 4 months ago

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i think i NEEEDDDD u to write abt older patrick meeting young reader at a trailer park. she comes from dirt poor and he comes from rich rich and he kinda becomes like her sugar daddy tehe

patrick making a wrong turn one night. just not paying attention so he turns into a trailer park on the other side of town. the side he rarely goes to. he lives in a huge mansion; he hasn't done his dishes or his laundry in almost ten years.

and you're sitting in a creaky lawn chair in front of your run down trailer smoking a cigarette and here comes a brand new black range rover. the headlights almost blind you.

but patrick doesn't keep going. he stops the car because he's never seen a girl so fucking beautiful. you're probably in your early twenties he figures. and he's about to be forty but god. your lips wrap around the cigarette and you just stare. you can't see into the car but he steps out and he realizes how creepy this must be.

he asks for a cigarette.

"you're filthy rich and coming to a fuckin' trailer park to ask me for a cigarette?" you laugh. but you give him one and you even light it for him.

"my bad, i just ran out. i'll buy ya a pack how about that?"

and you just talk for awhile but then it's getting late and patrick--he gave you his name--is so handsome. you were told to hate rich pricks like him but he's sweet and he offered to buy you cigarettes. his arms are awful strong and you like how he has to look down when you talk to him. he's a good listener.

he says he doesn't want to sound creepy but it's hot outside, and he was wondering if you wanted to go for a swim. he has a big pool at his house and a guest room you can sleep in.

it sounds too good to be true. like maybe you'd end up on the news. but patrick's green eyes are so pretty and you have a thing for older men so you get giddy and you go inside to get some things. a bikini, a change of underwear, a condom.

and then you're in his nice car and your legs are dangling and you just look up at him as he drives you back to his house. you bet his watch cost more than your whole trailer and then some.

patrick turns around when you change into your bikini. you tell him he can't peek and he covers his eyes. you don't end up swimming.

patrick fucks you into the mattress. a giant california king. you've never seen one before; it's like he has a hotel bed every night.

bikini bottoms pulled to the side, he stuffs his cock into you and he makes you spread yourself open for him as he plows into you. your red lip gloss is staining his sheets but he loves it and he spanks you so hard the skin raises.

"dirty girl. letting a fucking creepy old man fuck you like this? for a pack of cigarettes? honey, you're worth more than that. huh?"

you drool more and more and squeak as he hits that special spot inside you over and over and over.

"huh? answer me, sweetheart. you're lucky im being nice to you."

you nod. "yeah--i am worth more than that--i just-"

"hmm?" he goes slower now and a guttural moan escapes you because god, you feel every ridge of his cock inside you.

"you're so hot--i wanted you--thank you for being n-nice--"

he pulls you up so your back is flush against his chest.

"that's right thank daddy for being so nice to you."

"th-thank you daddy--"

and when he drops you off the next day, you get odd stares from your neighbors. it's hard to explain where a girl living in a trailer park got brand new versace sunglasses and an hermes purse.

#ask #challengers #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig smut #challengers smut #sugardaddy!patrick

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ceruleansx · 1 year ago

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visit | jack champion

- "your more important than a movie."

↳ jack!actor x reader

↳ warnings : make out, fluff, sitting on lap

↳ summary : you visted jack at work, only to find him missing you so much. eventually you guys start to make out and all that spicy stuff, relation to smut (if u squint)

↳ a/n : yall liked the ethan landry one so heres a jack one! yall are gonna like this one 😉

------------------------------------------------------------

jack was working on his new movie after scream 6. hes always been busy, although he's tried to do his best to spend as much time with you.

you wanted to suprise him while he was at work, because he was texting about how much he misses you.

you walked into the parking lot, and saw the hair designer. you walked up to her.

"hey! do you know where jack is?" you asked.

her face brightened up as she realized that you were his girlfriend. "oh y/n! thank god your here, he's just been talking about you the whole entire time."

you blushed at her words. even if you guys were a couple already, his actions and looks make your tummy fluster.

"he's just in his trailer." she pointed.

you said thanks and walked over. the door was labeled 'dereck', which was the character name. you could hear that he was blasting music in the trailer.

thats when you realized that it was the same exact playlist you made for him for when you two were crushing on each other.

your heart skipped a beat as you walked in slowly. he couldn't hear you since of the music, but he was shirtless. youve seen him shirtless before, but for some reason, it twitched your brain.

he was grabbing his shirt, until you ran up to him and wrapped your arms around his waist. he flinched until he saw it was you.

"y/n!!" he squeled. he turned to you with the huggest smile ever.

"oh my gos- wait.." he walked over to his phone and lowered the volume.

he turned to you and smiled again. "your here!!" he ran up to you and lifted you up from the ground.

you wrapped your legs around his waist. he took his face out of your neck and just stared at admired your face.

"ive missed you so much baby oh my gosh i still cant believe your here i was totally not expecting it and-" he paused, "oh my gosh im talking to fast arent i?" he blabbered.

"yes but, i dont mind pretty boy," you pouted. "ive just missed your lips forever."

"well.." he smirked. "your wish is my command."

he placed you down at sat on the couch that was inside the trailer. he manspreaded, something that he knew you loved. you walked over at sat on his lap. you straddled him and stared into him lovingly.

he placed his arms around your waist, his thumbs rubbing the side. "look at you y/n.." he whispered.

"your so gorgeous, i can puke right now." he chuckled softly.

"theres no one i would rather spend the rest of my life with.." he said softly, his cheeks turning pink.

"me too pretty boy." you said before leaning down to kiss him.

he accepted the gesture gracefully. he took a deep breath before giving you the most sloppiest kisses ever. his breath hitched as you ran your hands down his abs. you then ran your fingers through his hair while tugging it. it made him groan into your mouth, causing the vibrations to shiver down your body.

you gripped his hair even tighter as you started to rock your hips back and forth on his lap. he pulled away fron your lips to whimper softly, eyes rolling behind his head.

"fuck y/n-" he shivered, "your gonna have to stop or else.."

you pulled away, each other saliva creating a string. "your right, you have to focus on your movie." you started to get up before he slammed your hips into his lap.

he tutted. "oh no no sweetheart, your more important than a movie."

you opened your mouth to say something before his lips attached to yours. this time, he was more open to the kiss. he entered his tongue into your mouth, causing you to moan. he responded back with a groan as he bit your bottom lip softly. you grazed your tongue on his bottom lip, which made him to feral.

you could feel his whole chest and body heat up from this. he started to breath heavy, and so did you. his hands were roaming all over you now, like creeping up your shirt with his hands.

after another 10 solid minutes, you two pulled away. you had to catch your breath after this occurence with jack. man, he was a good kisser.

you two stared at each other lovingly as you took in each others features.

"i love you baby."

"i love you more jack."

he smirked, "hmm not possible." he teased.

you gasped playfully, "how is that not possible?"

"wellll.. i fell in love first."

you tilted your head and smiled. "that doesn't count dingus." you poked his chest.

"ow!!" he laughed and smiled, "yes it does."

"says who?" you said while massaging both his arms.

he hesitated, "me, of course."

you both laughed as you fell on the couch. you were now laying down, facing each other.

"i love you y/n l/n.." he whispered as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear.

"i love you two jack champion." you smiled, knowing that you were about to spend the rest of your life with the best man ever.

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x you #ethan landry icons #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry #ethan landry fluff #fluff #ethan landry fanfiction #ethan landry fanart #ethan landry fic #scream #scream movie #making out #viralpost #scream movie franchise

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erensfeed · 11 days ago

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OKAY BUT.

I woke up this morning with like, a flashing need to send you an ask about your LADS Actor AU, which sometimes just consumes my thoughts at random times.

👁️ But the boys recording the MYTHS.

Angst CENTRAL ANGST.

I just remembered the last update where they were doing Caleb's death (haha temporary of course, he's just taking a break) and she's acting out how she passes out and he pops up next to her like, why so sad?

And like... Recording the HEART BREAKING bits of their myths?

Spoilers ahead in case you HAVEN'T seen them all, won't go into detail but...

Dying in Xavier's arms? Forseer Zayne reading her fate and giving up everything for her? Rafayel having to chose between her life and his people's?

Whatever the fuck Sylus has got goin on? With the whole stabbing in the chest?

I was just consumed by the thought of them having to get into that headspace before the scene, having to pretend to see her die or hurt or knowing they won't see her again, when it's fake.

The aftermath of it too, getting out of that, maybe they're all whipped (yes) and just need a good hug and to ground themselves. Method acting you know...

Anyway 👁️ I've ranted enough 👁️

Thank you for reading through this whole ass paragraph, hope your day is wonderful!

content: how i imagine they’d be as actors when filming their myths. * some minor spoilers from me on xavier as well ! * ૮ ˶ᵔ ~ ᵔ˶ ა

you literally have no clue how i literally love you for still thinking ab those silly hcs😭 THANK YOU THANK U THANK UUU !! AND STOP BC THIS IDEA??? ate down.

cause omg they’d literally be love interests who grew head over heels in love with the main co-star in a fr deep(ressive) story. and it’s like gawd. what a life they’d come to lead if they really were actors then LMAOO

but anyway ! they would be told and agree (months prior), that method acting would be the best thing when filming each of their intense myths. and i know for a fact that rafayel would be the one waayyy too into that method acting stuff because it’d all end up feeling really personal.

‘i can totally work with this’ were the exact words that came from him as you watched and listened to him, munching on his box of donuts (this was a habit between you two — going over to the other’s trailer to snack on whatever the other got to eat). not to mention the times he’d re-read his copy of the script analysis for the nth time / before main rehearsals, and how he’d be all “pft, i wonder why [main director’s name] thinks acting all of this would ever even get to me”. and that never aged well at ALL because he ended up being more attached to it than he expected, as his natural reactions were already in tune with his lemurian character anyway.

but anyway during the era of, rafayel would suddenly stay to himself a little more / even got confused on his real feelings for you (?). and of course he’d recognize that and try to keep things professional, but he would also catch himself sometimes looking at or treating you like mc. and it’s like oh ! all this because he somehow tied everything to your irl friendship / dynamic ??? LOL

but anyway much like rafayel, xavier would also see you as the mc. just in a different way of course. cause it doesn’t help that you just so happen to naturally act like the mc, even off camera.

now when acting the real deal of his myth — when you lay lifeless in his arms — he would imagine that you really were the mc, keeping his head down as the feeling of the idea of holding the one he loved but couldn’t save hit him. his eyes would also be vacant during this scene, especially as he held the star tassel, the weight of it feeling heavier as he envisioned you giving it to him before dying.

in this same scene where he had to hold one of your limp hands in his, it actually felt colder. this didn’t show in the final take because xavier acts so authentically, but it did catch him off guard — as no one told him your hands would actually have to be cold for the real scene. and that made the moment feel even more real and intensified this ache in his chest at the thought of losing you. (lolol ofc the directors kept that because gawd everything was so realistic)

he’d tell himself it was just that scene that got to him but he’d eventually grow to randomly start reaching out to hold your hand in his more often, just to feel its warmth.

stop im giggling now bc im abt to go read smth angsty w xavier

moving on though ! zayne and his foreseer myth? especially dawnbreaker?? .. let me not go there bc this would be longer than needed. though i will say that zayne hadn’t planned on being “affected”. but he would quietly start to observe you more, as his way of not directly discussing his emotions. (this was also what prompted him to be quick to protect you on set)

in conclusion. rafayel as an actor, who has the biggest soft spot for you, would pull back just a little while in that headspace. quietly growing to wonder if you’d also forget him & all the moments you shared, once love and deepspace was over. and he would also start joking about his feelings more to mask them during that time. xavier, on the other hand, would develop a habit of finding lame excuses to have your hand in his whenever you were together, since feeling your cold hands that day did actually do something to him. zayne wouldn’t want to admit how it actually affected him but he would eventually be vulnerable about it with only you. lastly and not surprisingly enough, sylus would remain the only sane one regarding his character's darker lore LMAOO. so i’ll just leave that there (until his myth comes out).

but even though their well hidden feelings for you complicated things, they were great actors so it wouldn’t really affect them terribly for long, as they had ways to separate their personal lives from their roles by all the way you’d comfort them after you found out.

a/n: THIS WAS SO FUN & FUNNY TO ADD ONTO. althoughhh i personally don’t feel like this is 100% spot on & tied to the (1st) actor au hcs, as it’s just some ways i think they’d react but that could just be bc i wrote this in one sitting. didn’t also plan on talking that much and ab my glorious 6ft prince rafayel either but anyway thank yeww for this pooks. (also, im giving you a moon emoji for all our next discussions bc i look forward to them🙂‍↕️ )

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace actor au #nunu’s archived insights #nunu nation stays rising #🌕🧚‍♀️ & nunu yap away #nunu’s favorites 💌🫧

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corroded-hellfire · 1 year ago

Note

hello!! i have seen so many eddie x fem reader but never a chubby fem reader so? can u do one and plz take as much time

(can it also be smut???)

- suki

This honestly felt cathartic to write. Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy 🩵

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral, f!receiving, body image issues

Words: 4.5k

"Ugh, it’s so cheesy.”

Eddie groans and drops his head back against the couch dramatically. You scoff as you watch him out of the corner of your eye, wanting to keep most of your attention on the flickering television screen in front of you. The end of An Officer and a Gentleman plays, where Richard Gere picks up Debra Winger and carries her off bridal style.

“I think it’s romantic,” you say, lazily flicking your hand at your boyfriend’s chest.

His dark eyebrows raise up to meet his bangs as he kicks his socked feet up on the cluttered coffee table.

“Really?” he asks. “So, you’re saying you want me to just scoop you up like that and carry you?”

The snort that comes out of you isn’t intentional, but Eddie’s words force it to come out.

“Hell no,” you tell him. “You’d break your back.”

Eddie’s previously raised eyebrows furrow as he stares at you. His spine straightens and he crosses his arms across his chest, offense leaking into his posture.

“What do you mean?”

Surely, he must be joking, you think. But the way his gaze is focused on you makes you realize he’s serious.

“Eddie.” You brandish your hand towards your larger body before gesturing to his own svelte frame.

Unsure how to feel about your insinuation, Eddie shifts in his seat to face you better. He eyes your body, something that always makes you feel a little self-conscious even if it’s in an admiring fashion.

“You think I can’t carry you?” he asks.

“Not without blowing out your back.”

That has Eddie pushing himself up off the couch and rubbing his hands together. He nods to you as he shifts his weight from foot to foot.

“Let me try,” he says.

“No.” You don’t move an inch.

Eddie’s shoulders slump, reminding you of a deflating beach ball as he begins to pout.

“Babe,” he whines. “Come on.”

“No, Eddie,” you reply, tone more definitive this time. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” He waves off your concern as if it’s the last thing on his mind. But you’re aware that it’s very real and know it would only make you feel more uncomfortable in your own skin if your weight hurt your boyfriend.

“Just drop it,” you try.

As persistent and stubborn as Eddie is about something once it’s entered his mind, he can see your demeanor changing bit by bit, moving closer to upset. It doesn’t mean he’s going to let it go entirely, though. He’ll let you think he’s forgotten about it for now, just continuing on with the nice evening you’re having. But there’s already an idea turning the gears in the back of Eddie’s mind.

The next week, you waltz into the Munson’s trailer–having learned long ago that you can just let yourself in–and your brow furrows as you slip off your shoes. Eddie is standing between the couch and the television, doing arm curls with a pair of smaller but heavy-looking weights. Not once have you seen Eddie lifting weights before, so you’re confused, unsure of what’s going on.

Eddie’s eyes glance over to you, away from the rerun of Who’s the Boss playing on the television and gives you a smile.

“Hey, baby,” he says as naturally as always. “Be done in a minute.”

You finally find your voice as you track his arms moving up and down. “What’re you doing?”

“Knitting a sweater,” he answers without missing a beat.

“Ha ha, very funny.” You roll your eyes even though he isn’t looking your way and plop down on the couch behind him.

Eddie lets out a small, breathy laugh and turns his head to the side so you know he’s talking to you.

“What’s it look like? I’m lifting weights.”

“But why?” you ask, tucking your legs up beneath you.

When Eddie turns face forward again, you catch a glimpse of his smirk in the reflection on the TV.

“So you’ll have no more excuses about why I shouldn’t pick you up,” he says.

Letting out a dramatic groan to rival one of Eddie’s own, you flop down on your side and bury your face into one of the couch cushions. Irritated, you pick your head up and glare at the back of your boyfriend’s head.

“This again?” you ask.

“I’m gonna sweep you off your feet,” he says as he begins his last set. “Wait and see.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dustin whines, leaning back in his seat. He swipes at one of the D20s on the table out of frustration. “Where the hell is he? Eddie’s never been late for a campaign in his life.”

“Are you sure your boyfriend didn’t mention anything about being late?” Mike snaps at you from the opposite side of the table.

“For the third time, Michael,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest, “no.”

Jeff opens his mouth to say something, but the drama room door bangs open to reveal their Dungeon Master, his soaking wet hair turning the white portion of the Hellfire shirt see-through. There’s a beat of silence as everyone takes in his appearance. Leave it to Dustin to break the seal.

“Where the hell were you?”

“Is it raining out?” Lucas asks no one in particular, eyes trailing Eddie’s weighed-down curls.

He doesn’t receive a response as Eddie saunters into the room, acting as if he didn’t just break one of his own most important rules. Your boyfriend throws a wink your way and presses a kiss to the top of your head as he passes by you to get to his throne. Once he’s plopped down in the seat and made himself comfortable, he takes in all the eyes staring at him from around the table.

“I was in the gym. Weight room, more specifically,” Eddie says, as if they should have known this all along.

“Like…where the athletes train?” Gareth asks, nose wrinkling up in confusion. You can taste Eddie’s snarky reply in the air before he even parts his lips.

“Congratulations on knowing what the weight room is, Gareth the Great.”

When Eddie’s eyes don’t meet yours, you wonder if he’s avoiding your gaze or not. He has to know that the fact that he was lifting weights again would grate on your nerves. Either he’s oblivious–which is entirely possible–or he’s being smart and not meeting your glare. Eddie is quiet for a moment, which is so unlike him that you’re wondering if maybe he’s waiting for you to say something. If that’s what he wants he’ll be sorely disappointed though because you’re biting your tongue for now. Even though he’ll definitely hear about it later when there are no witnesses around.

“All right,” Eddie finally says, clapping his ringed hands together. “Shall we get started?”

Whenever you want to vent about Eddie or something he did, you never have a shortage of friends to go to. Most are glad to lend an ear and a few even look forward to hearing what crazy thing he did this time. But when it comes to how you’re currently feeling in regards to your boyfriend, none of your friends could truly understand because they’re all, well…thin. They might be sympathetic to your situation or even relate in some different way, but none of them would wholly understand because they’ve never been viewed in the same light that you are by society. It’s not their fault they don’t understand, it’s just how it is.

Unfortunately, you’re not as good at keeping your emotions hidden as you thought you were. It’s only a few days before Nancy corners you at your locker.

“Are you okay?” she asks, narrowing her usually wide eyes at you.

“Fine,” you say with as much forced enthusiasm as possible while you dig around the locker for your biology textbook.

“For argument's sake, let’s say I believe you,” Nancy says. “Why have you been so quiet lately, then? You seem distracted, like your mind is somewhere else.”

“It’s stupid,” you say to her as you find the book you were searching for.

“Hey,” Nancy says, voice taking on a more serious tone, “no it’s not. Whatever is bothering you, you can tell me.”

You’ve known Nancy long enough to know she’s truly trying to help you and is determined to find out what’s wrong. You also know that if you tell her that you’re not ready to talk about it, she’ll drop it and respect your wishes. But you have been itching to talk to someone about everything that’s been going on, and the opportunity presented itself to you on a silver platter.

“After school?” you ask softly.

Nancy nods. “I’m putting the finishing touches on a story for the paper. I’ll be in there alone.”

When the bell rings signaling the end of school you find her right where she said she’d be. Bent over a few papers, shuffling them back and forth and inspecting them with a small furrow to her brow. As soon as she sees you, though, she moves her work to the side and gives you her undivided attention.

“What’s up?” she asks.

Trying to buy every second you have before you open your mouth and start to explain your predicament, you make yourself comfortable on the stool across from your friend and situate your bag between your feet on the floor. There’s no more stalling, you realize, as you continue to shift in your seat though. Deep down you know Nancy will be sympathetic and would never intentionally steer you wrong, it’s just the fact that she won’t get it that’s keeping you from spilling your guts.

“I’m not interviewing you, you know,” Nancy says, the ghost of a smile dancing on her lips. “You can start whenever.”

“Eddie keeps saying he wants to lift me up.”

The admission just tumbles from your mouth, no preamble, no build-up, just straight to the problem that’s been lying heavy on your heart.

“Okay…” Nancy drags out the word and she leans in towards you. Clearly, she was expecting more to the story than this.

“And I told him that he’ll hurt himself and now he’s working out and lifting all these weights to prove that he’s strong enough for it.” For someone who wasn’t sure if they wanted to talk about this to begin with, you’re now word vomiting everywhere. Between the speed of your words and the way they seem to come out before being processed in your mind, you’re strangely reminded of how it is to talk with Robin when she’s flustered over something. The thought has you biting back a smile; maybe now you’d give Robin less grief about talking so fast.

“Why don’t you just let him try then?” Nancy asks.

An internal scream sounds in your head at her question. Of course she doesn’t understand what the big deal is. It’s not her fault, but you also know there are no words you could use to explain it to her to convey how you feel deep down about it. It’s something you either know from experience or not.

“You’ve seen the two of us together,” you finally respond, voice measured and quiet. “He’s so slender and has some lean muscle, but not enough to lift my fat ass.”

It’s obvious from the way Nancy does her cute little pout that she doesn’t like your comment.

“You are–”

Here it comes, you think. She’s going to say how pretty I am, even though I didn’t say I was ugly–just fat.

“–stressing yourself out by thinking about this too much. Let Eddie lift his weights. If you still don’t want him to pick you up, tell him. You know he respects your boundaries.”

It’s not what you expected her to say at all, and you admonish yourself for thinking Nancy would be anything less than logical about this. And her logic is sound. You know she’s right, but the emotional part of your brain still isn’t completely satisfied.

On your way out of the school after talking with Nancy, you pass the weight room and hear someone inside. You peek in the small window cut into the door and spot your boyfriend’s mass of messy curls. He has a barbell over his hips, thrusting them up and down. The sight alone has your knees feeling weak. The motion of Eddie’s hips has you hypnotized for a few moments before you decide to go in.

Eddie isn’t facing the door and he’s wearing headphones, so he doesn’t hear you as you slip in and close the door behind you. Now you can hear the soft grunts that leave his lips with every thrust, and it has you biting down on your lower lip. When you take a step closer, you can hear the music Eddie’s listening to, the song pounding out past the headphones. Even though Eddie doesn’t know you’re there it’s almost as if he’s trying to seduce you. The hips, the grunts, now he’s listening to Burnin’ Up by Judas Priest? That’s the most often played song while the two of you are having sex.

Deciding it’s fine if you’re perving a bit on your own boyfriend, you watch him while he does a few more reps. As he begins to slow down and finish up, you move to take a seat on the piece of equipment next to him. Eddie grins when he notices you sitting there and tugs the headphones down so they’re hanging around his neck.

“Hey, baby,” he says. “I’d hug you but I’m all sweaty.”

“It’s sexy.”

Eddie laughs at the blunt way you say it.

“Really?” he asks.

You nod your head and Eddie takes it as an invitation to come over and sit next to you. He wraps you up in his sweaty arms, teasingly wiping his forehead against the shoulder of your shirt. It makes you laugh and you wrap your arms around his damp middle. The black material of his Ozzy shirt is sticking to his skin–and now yours too.

“Gonna go take a shower,” Eddie says and presses a kiss to your temple. “Then we’ll go get some food, yeah?”

“Sounds perfect.”

The next week you’re over at Eddie’s house, on your back with Eddie on top of you as you make out. There’s a long-forgotten shitty horror movie playing in the background, but the cheesy, shrill screams of the victims don’t even register to either of you.

Rough calloused hands slide down your shirt, moving from your breasts to the hem of your tee, where it’s riding up. Eddie’s skin on yours has you arching your back as his hands travel upwards again. It’s clear that he wants your shirt off and who are you to deny him?

“Bedroom,” you mumble as you break apart just long enough for you to yank your shirt off. Eddie takes advantage of your quick preoccupation with your clothing to scoop you up in his arms, bridal style. “Eddie!” you squeak.

He just chuckles and squeezes you tighter against his body.

“Maybe now you’ll let me throw you around when I have to punish you for being a bad girl,” he says, a cocky smirk quirking his kiss-bruised lips.

“A-Are you okay?” you ask, arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. “You won’t offend me if you have to put me down.” You’re very aware of his lithe body and how it’s supporting your larger one. This has to be hurting him–right?

“Babe.” Eddie chuckles again and shakes his head. “I’ve been lifting weights that weigh at least double what you do. It feels like I’m holding a feather right now.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you try to determine if he’s lying or not. But the way he holds steady, not seeming to strain or struggle with you in his arms calms your worries. Eddie heads down the hall and carries you into his room and tosses you down on his bed. You land with a bounce and a giggle as he climbs up on top of you.

His lips attach to your neck as his fingers reach down and fiddle with the button of your jeans. Once it’s popped open and he drags the zipper down, Eddie starts to kiss his way down your body, making sure to press his lips against every part of you that he can. Your chest, your tummy, your hips. When he gets to your jeans, Eddie slides himself off the bed to kneel before you. He makes quick work of getting your pants off and lets out a sinful groan when he sees the wet patch forming on your pale green cotton panties. It encourages Eddie to move even faster as he yanks your underwear off so quickly that you blink and you miss it.

Eddie dives right in, wasting no time to run his long, talented tongue through your folds. You grip the off-white sheets below you in your fists at his ministrations. The laugh that rumbles through Eddie at your drawn-out groan sends vibrations up your body, only adding to the pleasure. Strong hands wrap around your thighs and pull you even further down the bed so Eddie can get better access to your pussy. His tongue repeatedly flicks over your clit and your eyes practically roll back in your head. Your boyfriend knows exactly how to work you up and bring you to the brink of–

“Hey,” you pout when Eddie pulls back and sits on his heels. “Fuck, Eddie, I was close.”

“I know, angel.” His words are soft and kind despite the mischievous glint in his eye. “But there’s something I need you to do first.”

“What?”

Eddie climbs on the bed and crawls up towards his pillows. He plops flat on his back as he says, “Sit on my face.”

“Eddie,” you say with a breathless laugh. “I’ll crush you.”

“Then I go out doing what I love,” he says with a shrug of his shoulders. “I always told you that you’d be the death of me.” Eddie looks over you with those brown doe eyes and you feel the resolve melting away in your chest. “But seriously, please come here. I already miss how you taste.”

Lifting you was one thing, but this seems like something he couldn’t prepare for by going to the gym. The sincere, pleading look in his eyes tells you that he really wants this, though.

“Are you sure?” you double-check.

“God, yes, please.”

Hesitantly, you shuffle up closer to him and lift yourself up to straddle his face. Bracing your hands on Eddie’s headboard, you still can’t bring yourself to lower your body. Just as you’re about to open your mouth and say something to Eddie, your boyfriend wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you flush down against his mouth.

“Fuck,” you groan. You can practically feel Eddie grinning against your dripping pussy as he gets back to work. After a few moments of making sure Eddie isn’t suffocating below you, you start to relax into it and are able to enjoy the sensations of his tongue leisurely licking up and down your heat. A particularly hard lick to your hole has you letting out a gasp and clutching onto the wooden bedframe hard enough to snap it in half.

“Shit, Eddie. A-Almost there.”

He hums in acknowledgment, even though you didn’t need to tell him. Your body was something Eddie was a quick study in; it didn’t take him long to learn all the little quirks and tells your body gives him when you’re getting close to orgasm.

“Fuck,” you moan between pants as your breaths become shallower. Sweat slicks your skin as you hurdle towards your peak, body a live wire as Eddie works your body just as flawlessly as he does his guitar. “I-I’m coming, Eddie, fuck, I’m coming.”

Eddie tightens his grip on your thighs as your hips rock against his face. His nose brushes against your clit and it shoots a spark through your body, only heightening your pleasure.

As the high wears off, you feel boneless and collapse down on the bed next to Eddie. He huffs a breath of laughter and raises himself up on an elbow to watch you recover. Satisfied smirk on his face, Eddie wipes his mouth off on the back of his hand. He only gives you a moment longer to catch your breath before he gives you a smack on the ass.

“Hands and knees, baby,” he says.

Energy not fully recuperated yet, you give him a nod but otherwise don’t move. Eddie’s not having that, though. A strong arm wraps around your waist and yanks you up, causing you to yelp in surprise. As you settle onto your hands and knees like you were told, you peek over your shoulder to see a cocky smirk adorning your boyfriend’s face. He ghosts a feather-light hand up your spine as he leans in to murmur in your ear.

“Told you I’d manhandle you if I needed to.”

There’s hardly enough time for your brain to process his words before he’s yanking your hips backward towards him. The sudden motion has your arms giving out and you drop face-first into his pillow, filling your senses with the citrus-scented shampoo he uses. The husky chuckle that comes from above you lets you know that this is the exact position he wanted you in any way. You let your eyes flutter closed as you revel in the sensation of him dragging his cock up and down your soaked folds. It’s meant to be teasing you–and it is–but you’d be lying if you said the motions didn’t feel amazing.

Eventually, Eddie can’t take his own teasing anymore–he’s so damn hard in his hand now. He lets his cock drag against your clit one last time before he pushes himself into you. A moan gets muffled into Eddie’s pillow as your fingers involuntarily claw at his sheets. If you were facing him, you know you’d see him smirking. The bed begins to squeak as Eddie moves his hips, his own groans tumbling out as he slides further into you with each thrust until he’s finally bottoming out.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, head falling forward. His hands grip the soft plush skin of your hips hard enough to leave fingerprint-sized marks. You turn your head to keep from suffocating against the pillow, but you know you’d willingly starve yourself of oxygen if it meant Eddie would keep pounding into you like this. “Shit, baby. I’ll never get over how tight you are. God damn, I love your body so fucking much.”

The only response you can manage is a groan, thoughts fleeing from your head with every snap of his hips against yours. His pace begins to pick up and you know he’s getting closer to the edge. But suddenly he pulls completely out of you, leaving you achingly empty. The loss makes you whine as you look over your shoulder at your boyfriend. Words still haven’t come back into your brain yet, so you just questioningly grunt at him, which makes him laugh.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says. Your eyes track him as he shuffles up the bed until he’s sitting with his back against his headboard. He pats his thigh and winks at you. “Get over here.”

He doesn’t need to ask you twice. Throwing your left leg over his lap, you whimper as you lower yourself slowly onto his angry and leaking cock. The moment you’ve seated yourself on him, he thrusts his hips up into you, causing you to gasp and clutch onto his pale, freckled shoulders to steady yourself.

“Fuck!” you cry. “Yes, Eddie!”

The smirk that graces Eddie’s beautiful features is so self-satisfied. Normally, you’d come up with a witty quip or bratty action to wipe that look off his face, but the pleasure coursing through your veins leaves you incapable of coherent thought.

Eddie wraps an arm around your waist and starts bucking his hips wildly up into yours.

“Shit,” you all but scream as you drop your forehead down to rest on Eddie’s shoulder. “God, Eddie.”

“Think my lifting paid off now, baby?” Eddie asks, smugness dripping in his tone. He chuckles and presses a kiss to your collarbone as you nod and bury your face into his neck.

“Yes,” you mumble against his skin before pulling back so he can understand you. “Yes, shit, your hips are magical.”

A chuckle rumbles through Eddie’s body and he tightens his grip around your waist, holding your body flush up against his. As you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your climax, your fingernails dig into the delicate skin on Eddie’s back.

“You’re so fucking sexy, baby,” Eddie says. When you don’t acknowledge his statement, he tugs on your hair and forces you to look him in the eye. “Jesus Christ, I love your curves. Every single inch of your body. It’s fucking mine. So perfect, holy shit. How’d I get so lucky?”

“All yours,” you confirm, nodding as much as you can with his hand in your hair. “My body is all yours. Every curve, every i-inch. Fuck, I’m close, Eddie.”

“Me too, sweetheart,” Eddie says between labored breaths. “Come with me.”

“O-Okay,” you stutter out in a whisper.

Your orgasm crashes over you, wave after wave of pleasure washes over you as you cling to your boyfriend. The way your walls clench around Eddie’s cock has him coming immediately after you, his hair tickling the skin of your cheek as he drops his head forward to rest against your body.

“Baby, yes,” Eddie moans as he spills inside of you, hips rutting against yours as he fucks his spend into you.

When he’s finished, Eddie lifts his head up before dropping it back against his headboard. A satisfied smile is on his lips as he looks at you, rosy cheeks and coated in a sheen of sweat as he tries to catch his breath. Your body collapses against his, breathing just as heavily, and Eddie wastes no time in wrapping both of his arms around you. It’s quiet as the two of you bask in the feelings, both physical and emotional. Eventually, Eddie turns his head and presses a kiss into your hair.

“I love you, baby girl.”

“I love you too, handsome.”

“So,” he starts, dotting soft kisses down the length of your neck, “you gonna let me pick you up now?”

It’s not something you even need to think about. “You can do whatever you want if you fuck me like that again.”

The laugh that Eddie lets out has you smiling against his skin. He brings his hand up and lightly trails his fingers up and down your spine.

“Glad to hear that,” he says. “I think next I want to try lifting you over my shoulder. You know, like firemen do. How’s that sound?”

The question makes you lift your head up to look your boyfriend in the eye.

“Only if you wear the uniform, too.”

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