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gutsby · 2 months ago

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Wants and Needs

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Joel x Reader

Summary: Bills are high; your dad’s boss wants to help. How you pay him stays between you and him—for now.

Warnings: 18+. Protected piv. Explicit power imbalance in an exchange of sex for money, so dubcon, technically. Soft dom!Joel. Sex toys. Squirting. Oral (f!receiving). Overstimulation. Daddy kink. Age gap. Praise kink.

Note: Bohanan’s is a steakhouse in San Antonio, TX.

Word count: 8.4k

You wanted a car. Joel needed to cum.

It wasn’t the arrangement a girl your age should’ve made, but what could you do? Your dad drank half of your college funds away, and your mom was long gone.

The next best thing was Mr. Miller, your father’s boss. He’d understood better than anyone what money could buy. What it might do. For him, it was pleasure. For you, it was a future—or what little remained after bills and loans and exorbitantly-priced car repairs bled you dry.

You took the job at the firm on a whim. You didn’t want to be a lawyer anymore, though your dad and Joel were. You didn’t want to be done with law school, though 3L had already long since ended, and that dreaded so-called ‘minimum competency’ test was drawing close on the horizon. In short, you couldn’t afford to pay for bar prep.

With Joel, you could.

It was true that tax law paid pretty well, but a part-time job would never really be enough when your family was treading water at all times. Your dad liked to gamble and drink, and your brothers got all of their brains from him.

You got the short end of the stick, plus the receiving end of another. Lucky for you, Joel’s felt pretty good going in.

Today you were somewhere south of Austin. Your truck wouldn’t start last week, so you’d agreed to come along on this business trip knowing full well what you planned on asking your boss as soon as you had a moment alone.

“CDP hearing at…9:45.” You checked the itinerary twice.

“Alright.” Joel nodded.

“Lunch with Javier, Ezra, and Dave at twelve.”

“Mhmm.”

“Phone call with Revenue Officer Acacius at 3:30.”

“For the…?”

“Martells.”

“Okay.”

“I finished Lucien Flores’ Form 433-F for your review and left notes—” You stopped to tap your finger on a short white pile of papers between you and Joel on the desk, “—in the margins. Still need bank statements from him.”

“Lovely.”

Joel eyed the stack at first, but his gaze strayed a little.

“You should probably plan to talk strategy with my dad before Mayor Garcia’s audit tomorrow, too. Looks like a couple non-cash contributions are being disputed now.”

For a second, your eyes flitted up to him, too. It was brief.

“Sure. When’s your daddy free?” he said.

You blinked, then scanned the schedule.

“Looks like five…or six, maybe. He’s got a consult with—”

“I wasn’t talking about your father.”

You looked back up. Joel was smirking, of course. His hand had drifted a comfortable, innocent distance past the papers and across the table, to you. The pair of you happened to be in one of the glass-paneled conference rooms nearest the hotel lobby, so he had to be discreet.

He never let his fingers stray too long on yours in public. Presently, his thumb grazed your knuckles extra slow.

Posing a question, maybe.

You didn’t have the time to be tactful now, unfortunately.

“I need $2,700.”

Joel, your boss, your daddy, whatever, had to pause at that. He didn’t move his hand immediately, but he did stare harder. Longer. He searched your face for the joke.

“$2,700?” he repeated.

“Yes sir,” you answered out of habit, wincing only a little, “My truck stopped running last week, and it’s just…a lot.”

The cost. For Joel, it wasn’t even a drop in the bucket, but in your world, it was a make-or-break, fuck-your-whole-budget-for-the-next-six-months kind of bad. Suddenly, your cheeks felt warmer than they did before, and you forced yourself to look away. Peering out across the wide and gently rolling terrain of San Antonio and trying to pretend there was something thrilling to see. You’d almost forgotten how much you hated asking this.

“I can make the deposit tonight—” Joel started.

“No,” you interrupted. You wanted to turn but couldn’t. You just shook your head and kept staring out there, “Not now, I mean…I need to earn it over time, I just…”

You stumbled over the words. It was like your lips, your tongue, and your teeth were all suffering from the same sort of embarrassment pervading the brain, and you couldn’t bring your mouth to form the sentences right.

I’m not asking for a handout. I need to earn the money.

However ‘earning’ may have been grossly misconstrued in the context, it was a labor all the same. You didn’t love it, but you didn’t hate him, either. Joel was nice, albeit old enough to be your father, and it didn’t seem that he was nearly as predatory or perverse as he could’ve been. You’d been working for him for two months now, and the idea had been your own when the cash had gotten tight.

Back in April, you’d explained to him, calmly, that you couldn’t take the bar exam unless you got some extra money quick. That you wouldn’t accept his charity, but you’d pay him back in other ways. Joel had been against it at first—you were the daughter of his best friend, after all—but eventually, his carnal needs won out over his sense, as every other man would’ve done, you guessed.

At first, you’d started slow, but that hadn’t lasted very long. You fucked him regularly now, though never had you asked for an amount of cash this big out of nowhere.

Joel blinked and put a hand on his hip, like he always did when he wasn’t sure what to say. The silver in his soft, dark locks shone more in this light. He’d lost the smirk.

“You’ve done…plenty.” Now sounding sheepish.

You tried to protest again; Joel stopped you.

“I mean it. Hey, look at me,” he said next.

You did, hesitatingly. You turned from the window, and out of instinct, folded your arms over your chest. Joel paced closer to you and then he was watching. Pausing.

Brushing your arm with his and glancing once over your shoulder to make sure no one else was around to see.

He leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to your temple.

When he pulled away, your skin was practically ablaze.

“Mr. Miller—”

“Joel,” he corrected, quiet, “And you’ve done enough. Let me cover the car just this once, okay? Sweetheart?”

You didn’t realize you were pivoting again. That your gut was doing somersaults and your heart was ready to climb up and out of your throat. Your neck was burning.

It wasn’t even anger you sensed was simmering under the skin until you turned back to him, and your eyes flashed with ire before the words were even spoken.

“I don’t need your pity, Mr. Miller. I said I want to pay.”

“It’s Joel. And I said you’ve done enough, so—”

Ire morphed to something more in a blink.

You didn’t mean to say it, but you did.

“Fine,” you huffed, suddenly exasperated, “If you’re so fucking opposed to me paying my way for this one simple thing, I’ll get another guy. Forget I asked.”

It was a low blow, for sure. Joel knew how badly you’d wanted this to stay between just you and him—and he would never dream of seeing you ‘earning your keep’ with anyone else. His expression said as much as soon as he’d heard your words; his whole face hardened at once.

But then you’d turned to leave. You didn’t care what he wanted to tell you, and if you did, you certainly weren’t brave enough to stick around to hear Joel say it then.

So you left. He had a full, busy day ahead of him anyway.

You woke up wet.

In an effort to avoid your boss, you’d run errands all day. Buried your nose in a sea of Civil Procedure notes as soon as you got a second alone, almost vomited seeing the Erie Doctrine, and went back to your hotel room to try and study there. Once you had, you napped instead.

Now your clothes stuck to your skin; the sheets around you were soaked. You peered over the big white duvet holding your body interred and saw smoke overhead.

Or steam.

Yes, definitely steam. It was drifting from the bathroom, where the door was thrown open. You shifted up to sit.

“Tess!” you yelled, “Shut the goddamn door, I’m boiling.”

As a law clerk, you weren’t afforded the luxury of a suite to yourself, so you shared it with the other new grads on work trips like these. Tess Servopoulos loved long, hot showers and never closed the fucking door. You groaned.

And, feeling depleted of all energy from your studies and the stress and the steam searing every inch of your skin, you flopped back in the bed. You kicked the covers off your legs. You’d just lifted a hand to wipe the sweat from your forehead, when an awful, fresh realization dawned.

You glanced at the clock—3:37.

“Fucking hell,” you hissed.

You were supposed to meet your dad at two to get some paperwork signed. You needed to have that filed with the court by four. He was probably engaged somewhere else by now, whether it be a client, a conference, or a couple white lines in the bathroom of a partners-only club downtown, and you wouldn’t have a hope of reaching him here. You rubbed your face and groaned again.

You’d set an alarm for 1:30—you knew you had.

Where the hell was your phone? Why was it so warm? What if he’d called? Aw fuck, he’s probably blown that thing up to hell and back by now. Maybe he was drunk. He had to be. Where was Tess? Where were your pants?

You’d made it up to your feet, clumsily, and faced a full-length mirror. Your bottoms were gone. You closed your eyes and screamed inside, remembering why they were.

“Glad you’re getting some use out of this.”

The second you heard it, your lids flew open. You turned.

And, standing in the warm yellow glow of the bathroom light—holding the culprit, your vibrator, like a prize—was Joel. Naked as the day he was born, save for one thin towel around his hips, and grinning. Moisture glistened on his chest and pooled about his feet, and his hair was smooth, tamed, and combed back neatly from his face.

He waved your silicone toy in the air, and immediately, you regretted giving him your room key the other day.

“I thought we agreed you’d wait for me—”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

Your voice was thick with sleep. Joel’s own was slow, dulcet, and kind as it always was, even when teasing. When you grit your teeth, he just set the toy aside.

“I’m sorry. Bad timing. I saw your—”

“No.” You threw up both hands at once, suddenly out of breath and fucks to give, “You know what? I don’t care. You need to go. I have to be down at the courthouse—”

In twenty minutes. You cut yourself short and hurried off to find shoes. You could wear other pants. Ask another attorney to sign the forms if you couldn’t reach your dad. Forget that his boss and yours had just caught you with the vibrator he’d bought you last month and try not to feel too humiliated knowing he knew what you’d been doing. It didn’t matter—Joel didn’t matter. You slid on a mismatched pair of slacks and set off toward the door.

Then you had to stop. Joel beat you there, quick as ever.

“Listen. Hey.”

“Will you stop?!”

You pushed at his big and wet, stupidly broad chest. You felt the small grey hairs on his pecs tickle your palms, and for a second, you thought you heard a chuckle.

“You’re gonna make me late—”

“Hey, hey,” Joel said again. Of course it sounded fatherly, “I already signed the POA for Morales, hon, you’re good.”

You’re good.

“You what?” You stared at him in disbelief. How did he even know you needed Frankie’s power of attorney signed in the first place? You figured your dad would’ve mentioned it, but still, it wasn’t really Joel’s form to sign.

“The case is mine now,” he clarified, reading that look, “Wasn’t my first pick, but it is what it is. And your dad—”

Your dad was probably lagging wildly behind on his own caseload, so he’d pushed one off on his friend. Again.

“You can’t keep picking up his slack,” you gritted out, “One of these days it’s gonna bite you both in the ass. You know he shouldn’t be forcing these jobs on you.”

“I offered.”

“You caved.”

“He’s my best friend, what do you expect me to do?”

“Not let him use you! He’s making you feel bad for him.”

“And what if I did? What if I did pity the bastard?”

You scoffed. Then winced, inwardly.

I don’t need your pity, Mr. Miller.

From the look on Joel’s face, he seemed to be remembering the same. He shook his head.

“That’s not…” he trailed off. He rubbed his jaw with his hand and started to move from the door, deflating some.

His other arm extended to you, wordlessly, and already anticipated what was sure to follow. You swatted him off, then walked to the bed. You considered sitting but didn’t. Instead, you crossed your arms like you always did and turned away, facing the window with a cool, flat affect.

By now, Joel knew better than to take that for what it seemed. He crossed the room to you, treading softly.

His voice turned gentle again, like an apology: “Honey…”

But your gaze was already fixed outside. You frowned.

“Darlin’,” Joel continued, undeterred, “Come on.”

And you didn’t need to see his face to hear the rest: ‘Look at me, please,’ with eyes all comfort and warmth.

“Don’t you have a phone call with an R.O. or something?” Briefly, you recalled Acacius and a stream of other items from the checklist you’d covered that morning, and you had to stop yourself then from straying too far. You blinked once, just as Joel was approaching from behind.

“I cancelled,” he said.

You sighed, “Mr. Miller…”

You knew he hated doing that.

“Joel,” he pressed. Adding, “Something came up.”

You wouldn’t even ask. You shouldn’t care. You felt him standing there, fanning hot breaths across the nape of your neck, and you really couldn’t have taken that worse. You visibly tensed, hands balling into fists at your sides, and—hell, he wouldn’t quit moving now, would he?—Joel bent down. He hesitated, as if gauging your reaction in time, then descended further. He kissed your shoulder.

You cracked; it never took much from him.

For all your inane, ancillary plays at feigning indifference, one movement of Joel’s mouth and your resolve was lost. You clung to words, weakly, but all the rest fell away.

“We don’t…want your charity. Me or my dad. Alright?”

“I know.”

Joel kissed your skin again, then pulled at the strap of your blouse. It fell limply away, and his lips reattached.

Exactly when he’d walked you back to the bed, you couldn’t be sure. By the third or fourth kiss, your stomach was tight, knees weak, and your eyes drawing closed; it didn’t matter to you or to him what had passed before. Your bodies found the bed and blended together.

Tangling, in a way. Tearing blindly at clothes and not saying too much apart from Joel’s soft, sweet words:

“That’s it.”

“I know.”

“Good girl.”

Good girl when he kissed you. Good girl when he stripped you bare. Good girl when his hands roamed the broad, naked expanse of your body and let your own do the same to him. Good girl when your fingers hooked the outline of the towel and tugged it away, your vision filled with a sight you’d come to like more and more each day.

“That’s my girl,” Joel murmured. He cradled your head while you gripped his base, “‘S’yours, baby. All yours.”

Yours. Mine. You weren’t sure you had the sense or self-possession to even know what that meant, especially here. Joel wasn’t a boyfriend. He wasn’t a lover, at least not in the traditional sense. He wore dark wool suits like your father and worked from dawn until dusk every day, practicing law for longer than you’d been alive. Still, the smile above you was sweet. It coaxed you gently as you slid your hand up and down his length, like he sensed this was more like a lesson for you. Learning experience.

“Remember, spit a little first,” he instructed. Then, to demonstrate this point, he brought his fingers to his mouth and wet them quickly. He slipped his touch down to yours and met your gaze while he joined you there.

He rubbed and slicked himself up and he did it with ease. You followed his lead and watched his face contort—crow’s feet pinching even tighter at the sides of his eyes as pleasure began to pool in his gut. He looked pretty. You’d never thought to tell him this, but Joel really had an unparalleled face. It was an old and beautiful thing. For this reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to tear your gaze away, maybe to wet your own fingers. Instead, you slipped your hand between your legs, where his hips had come to rest. You worked a slow, light touch against your folds; you were drenched, and it didn’t take long for your fingers to be, too. You moved them back to Joel’s cock.

“Like this?” you ventured.

The man answered with a grunt, at first. Then a grin.

“Yeah. Yeah,” Joel nodded, quiet but emphatic. Trying not to smile too big as he let your touch take over for his, “Just like that, sweet pea. Get it nice an’ wet for daddy.”

You wanted to whimper at that. Something must’ve flashed in your eyes at the intonation of the last word, and the look must’ve suffused your whole expression, because the next thing you knew, Joel was lowering his body to yours. Petting your hair, letting you rub on his shaft as fast as your soft, lithe hands could manage.

“Feel that, baby? Feel how much daddy missed you?”

You did.

Your brow pinched, and you wanted more of that. More from him: those tender, edifying words of praise being mumbled your way while your touch worked him over. Maybe you could’ve helped it, but then again, in this state, maybe you couldn’t—you whimpered for him.

Wriggling your hips against the bed to get your warmth pressed flush with his own, and squeezing him tighter:

“In me, daddy. Please.”

You angled his cock in your trembling grip to plead as much. You knew he liked being the one to push in the first time, so you didn’t move too far with that push, but you begged him with your gaze. You felt him tense a bit.

And just when you sensed he might let you have your way, he moved off. Down. Sliding his torso away from your own, to go lower on the bed, and smirking again.

“I think she needs my tongue first, doesn’t she?”

You wanted to nod. Instead, you flinched. You crawled away from his hold before it could secure itself firmly on either one of your legs, and you had to snag your bottom lip between your teeth to contain that blossoming need. It almost spilled from your mouth in a moan before Joel’s could reach your lower half. Then you scrambled to sit up

“No,” you choked out.

This wasn’t new. While you shook your head, Joel lifted a brow and stood from the bed. He reached behind him.

The night stand.

You closed your eyes.

“This isn’t…supposed to be for me.” you sighed.

In a second, Joel was back where he started, and you didn’t have to steal a glance through your lids to know what he was holding. Slotting himself gently into place.

“Don’t,” he started, sharp, “—say that. I mean it.”

You knew he meant it, but you also knew better than to accept at face value what he said, moving down on you.

This wasn’t part of the deal. Joel’s money was meant to serve his pleasure, not yours. Letting him take you any other way seemed to blur the lines between transaction and affection, and though you’d done this before, it still didn’t feel right. You couldn’t bear having his focus here.

Evidently, though, he could. He’d snatched your vibrator from the night table and lowered his torso to your legs, lips twitching the tiniest bit. ‘Open up. Let me see her.’

Joel was on his stomach, eyes glowing with intrigue.

“Let me see how much she’s missed me, baby.”

The grey matter in your brain might’ve trickled through your ears—the whole thing went to mush at his words. You pushed at his hands, then the top of his head, but clearly, your will was weak. You wanted this. Needed it.

“That’s a good girl. Let daddy have it,” Joel drawled.

You wanted to cry. Or maybe hide. His index and middle fingers prodded at your folds, pulling them apart, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn you’d stopped breathing. Joel kissed the slope of your mound with a quiet kind of reverence. The salt-and-pepper stubble on his chin brushed your clit, and your back arched reflexively. Then, remembering why you’d come to this arrangement in the first place, you felt a wave of guilt supplant that pleasure.

You clawed at his head and shook your own, weakly.

“No. W-wanna make you feel good,” you choked out.

Not me.

Not here.

Just let it—

“Fuck,” you keened through your teeth. Joel’s lips made contact with your slick, drooling cunt and, in a second, sucked your nub in between them. He flicked his tongue.

Joel groaned, then pulled away to meet your gaze.

“Feels plenty good f’me,” he assured you in a murmur. Eyes glossy, “She’s so fuckin’ sweet, honey. So pretty.”

Then, as if to punctuate his point, he slid his tongue down the whole wet mess of your slit, and he moaned. He curled the muscle and invaded your sticky, sensitive, precious warm flesh with vigor and force—maybe a little desperation—and you whined at the feeling. Your toes curled tight. It was doubtlessly a sight to see: Joel’s old and weathered head against your young and supple skin, the wiry greys of his chin rubbing your cunt like no man’s his age should’ve been. He took you gently. Forked his fingers over your folds to hold you open for him and then, over and over and over again, just licking stripes. Squelching noises only seemed to goad him on while he buried his nose and savored your taste without reserve. Your stomach clenched with that pleasure, then swelled.

“That’s my girl—so good for me,” Joel said, as though reminding you, gently, it was okay to relish the feeling.

Once more, he suckled your clit in his mouth, rubbing the tip of his tongue in a quick back-and-forth motion, and the next sensation hit without a breath of warning.

Your belly twisted again, then flushed with hot pleasure.

“My— fuck,” you cried, shuddering with a climax you didn’t know was coming. You held his head and whined.

Joel’s tongue didn’t stop. Your vision blurred. Whatever reprieve you might’ve hoped to find came in the form of his lips drawing back, momentarily, only to sponge little kisses on your still-pulsing heat. Your body jolted back.

“I c— I’m done. I’m done,” you blurted out.

Joel nodded against you. Humming through his kisses:

“I know. Keep going.”

Keep going.

So simple.

Still, you couldn’t breathe. Your sight was inundated with stars. You felt Joel’s stubble on your slit again, only this time, the pleasure was tripled. Your legs trembled, and your hands made fists in his hair. Joel kept on kissing.

And kissed again, again, and again, until your fingers in his locks pulled taut to the roots and your hips were bucking up in his face: ‘Too much, t—oh fuckfuckfuck.’

Then came a buzz. Skirting your legs in a blink, before diving to meet Joel’s mouth on your clit. You shrieked.

“I know, I know,” Joel joined, as though soothing a wound while he maneuvered the vibrator. Lifting his head and then kissing your thigh, “I know. You’re alright.”

You wanted to sob; you felt ready to burst. You trusted Joel’s judgment but had never been subjected to this sort of pleasure. What if it was more than you could take?

“I’m here.”

Joel’s words were slow to crawl off his tongue, but their intent was clear. You writhed once more, and he was kissing your skin, rubbing your thighs, and taking the toy to your clit with a warm, devoted touch. He wasn’t cruel.

He had a glint in his gaze when you met it, like he knew you wouldn’t accept this feeling alone—but he wanted you to. He wanted the indulgence to be your own and an end in itself. There was care in his touch, tender praise with every caress, and you guessed this was intentional. Joel needed you to know this was more than only his.

You felt more naked than you’d ever been: soaking the sheets with your last release, fresh arousal trickling out, Joel’s spit mixing with your nectar and sweat and pressing you down in the bed. And nudging you, gently.

“‘S’okay, baby. You’re alright. That feels nice, doesn’t i—”

“Kiss me.”

It came out faster than you could even try and stop it. You weren’t sure why you said it. The words were acerbic on your tongue—you hated ever sounding needy—but then your mind and your mouth and your worries were all silenced at once when Joel came clambering up for you.

His lips were wet and grinning as he kissed you. He held the vibrator hostage between your legs while his body pressed tight against yours. His movements slowed.

Then, as if he’d crawled in your head and read your mind:

“It’s okay to need me, baby. It’s okay to want this.”

His hips made that assurance even clearer. Joel reached down and took the vibrator again, increasing the friction between your groin and his while he pressed the buzzing toy to your clit. You whined into his mouth at the feeling.

Your eyes rolled back, and the pleasure soared. This morning, you might’ve bristled at the words he’d just spoken, but here, in this bed, it felt okay. It felt safe.

Joel felt safe, for once, and you weren’t sure how to keep that idea from sticking—how to reconcile the notion of swapping sex for cash with a man for months on end, and then this. Your stomach churned. He held your face and kissed you more, and your clit throbbed and ached. Before you could ponder your thoughts a second longer, a white-hot pleasure washed over, and you came again.

“Good girl,” Joel cooed.

Throbbing even more this time.

“That’s a sweet girl. That’s my baby.”

All but aching with desire. Feeling it double.

“Cum for daddy, that’s it. Keep going.”

Feeling it trickle down your legs.

“She’s feelin’ real good, huh?”

You could barely breathe.

You whined. Felt something splinter between your thighs and then more of it, more of you and that slick, oozing pleasure and Joel’s groans, overjoyed—‘Making a fucking mess’a daddy, isn’t she? She feel that good?’—and by ‘that good’ you guessed it was more than normal.

This was more warmth than usual. Somewhere in the midst of your own mind-numbing pleasure, you’d let out a spurt, sticky and wet. It now coated the hairs on Joel’s tummy, and while his skin shone, his eyes were brighter. He flitted a look to you, gaze flaring, and slid down. Low.

Back to where he was before. Moving the buzzing pink bullet aside and letting his mouth assume its place.

Of course, you yelped.

“Joel!”

You winced, both from saying his name and feeling so raw. Joel grinned at the sound and suckled your clit.

It was drenched. You and Joel, too, were doused all over and practically gleaming under the rays of late afternoon sun then pouring through the window. For a second, you cast a look outside like you had before, but it was only to brace your body for the bliss at hand. You stared and felt a crude, carnal shockwave seize you head to toe. It traveled fast and made you release, again, or else just continue the same flow as before—and this time, into Joel’s waiting mouth. He lapped at you feverishly now.

He squeezed your legs and licked you dry. He worked in merciless circles, like his life might have depended on making you stay at this peak. All the while, you were tearing at his hair. Riding his face as your body fell apart.

That was alright. This pleasure was yours for now, but there was still time yet to make it worth his while, you reasoned in a half-intoxicated state. Your legs vibrated as you started to crawl—limp—back up in the bed and, numb with elation and a desperate need to please, you stretched your arm toward the night stand. You huffed.

You reached blindly but got it. The box. Weak fingers found the first plastic strip and tore yourself a square. Then, lifting it to Joel, you ignored the last stabs of pleasure between your legs. This was fun, but still his.

“Go on,” you told him, breathless, “Fuck me.”

Joel quirked a brow. He took the condom, still panting himself. He brought the latex to his tip out of habit, then:

“Yeah? Are you sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

Your head was swimming. Somewhere entrenched in the furthest recesses of your brain you could feel it, that dizzying, self-centered pleasure. You pushed it back.

You suffocated it, and you spread your legs wide for him. You let him lay you down and tug the rubber over his cock, then nudge at your hips to situate himself in just the right way. How he liked it. He seemed to be content, and your heart swelled. In this airy, buoyant state, you felt more at ease to speak, sure that he’d understand.

“This should cover some of it, right?” you panted out.

Joel slowed.

“What?”

You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, eager to keep going. But you steeled yourself, just barely, then.

“Sex. Now,” you said, “It’ll cover some of my car repairs.”

Instead of nodding like you’d expected, Joel only blinked. Then you opened your mouth to speak again, and his body stopped you cold. He planted a hand beside your head on the pillow and raised his hips; you felt his heat leave with it. You reached for his backside immediately, to try and pull him back into that pre-missionary position he’d held, when Joel brushed you off. His face was hard.

“Money?” he quipped.

“Yeah,” you started, then remembered how you talked outside of the bedroom, when he seemed more serious, “We’ll go again. All week. You can even put it in my—”

Joel balked, like you’d just slapped him across the face.

“No,” he said, sharp.

“No,” he repeated, more to himself this second time. Almost as though he couldn’t believe what you were suggesting—and making him guilty by association.

Joel clenched your pillow like a vice and shook his head.

“You’re not getting paid for this,” he finished, and when your gaze penetrated his, confused, he squeezed harder.

“Thought you wanted it.” Joel added, almost shamefully.

“I do! I do…I just—” you sputtered.

“What? Think you need to offer up a week and a half of fucking to make it worth my time? Is that what this is?”

Well, in a way, maybe.

You weren’t sure what to say. Former dizzying bliss was dwindling fast, and now you were facing him cold. Sober.

Increasingly irritated, again.

“I just need money, Mr. Miller—”

“It’s Joel, hon,” he bit back, for the fourth time that day. His eyes flared with something more, maybe annoyance, but then he was tempering it just as fast. He ran a hand through his damp grey hair and shook his head, pausing, “It’s Joel. I know you need the money, baby, but it’s—”

“It’s what we agreed,” you protested, “What I need—”

“Well it’s not what I want!” Joel barked.

Anger surged again, and this time, evidently, the feeling was harder to keep at bay. He was scarcely able to rein in his features, settling on a grave little scowl instead of a frown, and he sucked in shorter, shallower breaths through his nose. You felt him let your pillow go.

“Forget it—the cash.” Joel grit his teeth even tighter, “Forget these payments and the goddamn allowance I’ve had you on. I can’t do that anymore. It’s not right.”

Your heart sank.

You didn’t know what to say.

Luckily, Joel’s voice resumed on its own.

“Whatever you want, whatever you need, sweetheart…”

He stopped. Silence followed, then stretched on for one full, terrible minute. In that interim, you could see his chest rise and fall fast. He was trying to slow it down.

“Whatever you need paid off, I’ll do it. Anything. You don’t have to touch me again. It was wrong of me to allow that in the first place,” he rejoined, tone cooling.

Sounding guilty, too.

Above you, Joel didn’t seem keen on holding your gaze, so he fixed his stare someplace on the headboard instead. Then he moved off your body, slowly.

In spite of the distance he attempted to give, he was still crowding your space. Looming large and bare and weary as you’d ever seen him, knees shuffling back awkwardly through a mass of cotton sheets while his eyes shifted low. Away. The rest of him filled your lungs with a heady cologne scent and your stomach with a thousand tiny blades—you were hurt that he wasn’t sticking to his end of the bargain. You were mad that he was trying to claim the moral high ground now, after everything you’d done.

Mostly, though, you were just upset that you felt like you were losing someone close. That Joel Miller was more of a confidant, friend, and father figure than your own dad had ever been, and that got all fucked up over money. Your lips pursed, and something stung behind your eyes when you reached for him again. Your throat stung, too.

“The reason I agreed to do this,” Joel went on, and the ache in your head worsened when he winced from your touch, “was ‘cause I didn’t want you getting ‘help’ from anyone else. I was selfish. And that’s not an excuse…”

He started to move off, hand dropping from yours.

“…but it’s the truth. I’m sorry.”

At length, Joel found your gaze, and the eyes said it all over again: I’m sorry. You might’ve believed them, too.

But you were you, and you couldn’t help but press:

“Why?”

Your voice was small. Joel was trying to stand from the bed, but you grabbed at his hand again and made him meet your eyes. Confusion was painted across his own.

Kneeling in front of him, curious, you tried to clarify.

“Why’d it have to be you?”

Judging from Joel’s expression as soon as you did, you got the sense that this question made him feel dumb. He frowned, but he held your stare and answered anyway.

“Because I wanted you first,” he replied, “Before all this.”

Your stomach twisted. He did?

You didn’t need to ask twice to know what that meant. What he’d said, in words and with a look, was enough. Still, it was always in you to know more, to be sure, so you crept a little closer. You let your hands roam up and—

“No,” Joel said, as soon as your fingers reached his side.

You’d just wanted to feel him, maybe prod him further on what he’d just said through acts that didn’t require verbal articulation, but he refused. He backed up in bed.

“This isn’t about—” he started, low.

“Sex. I know,” you answered for him. Then your touch grazed his thigh, and you were dying to have more. To be told in a way you both knew and understood. To touch, “You want me to believe you really…liked me before?”

“More than you know.”

There was that blunt, open pragmatism in the Joel you’d always known. Perhaps guided by natural inclinations, or else your hand on his leg, drawing higher. Moving closer.

Showing skepticism through your eyes and the hint of a playful, disbelieving smile starting to curl at your lips.

“When you met me?” you teased.

You’d known of Joel for years, and had met him a couple times as a teenager at various firm holiday functions. You probably hadn’t exchanged more than ten words altogether before starting law school a few years back.

“Hell no,” Joel answered, fast, “When you started work.”

His gaze was timid again. It was fixed on his thigh where you’d started to slide your index up the warm, muscled expanse of his skin, and though you could tell he was more than hesitant, you wanted to know. Wanted to feel.

It wasn’t so easy convincing a man you’d been working for—and fucking, largely without feeling—to pay bills that you wanted him here and now. But you needed to try.

That maybe, somewhere along the way, you’d come to want him, too. That cash wasn’t the only thing at stake.

You crawled between his legs, then straddled his hips.

Your lips smiling still as you did: “How much?”

Joel blinked back. Dazed.

“What do you m—”

“How much did you like me? When did it start?”

Joel sighed when your heat rubbed his. He tried grabbing ahold of your hips, when you glanced down and saw he’d already discarded the last condom. You couldn’t have that if you wanted to continue this talk.

You reached back and grabbed another.

“Darlin’,” Joel said, strained, “We shouldn’t…”

“Says who?”

You’d already worked the rubber halfway down his length when his heavy-lidded gaze locked with yours. You saw lust there, mixed with worry. Curiosity. You kept going.

“Says your dad, if he ever finds out what I’ve done to his little girl,” Joel replied, closing his eyes at the feeling.

You had the latex worked down to the base of him when you smiled. Felt him seize your hips, lids fluttering open to find you in their soft, glossy stare, and you felt better. Like clockwork, you went together and joined, at last. You felt Joel squeeze your backside and groan when you first sank down to take him whole. You shuddered, too.

But you tried to steady your voice as you spoke.

“Semantics, Miller,” you told him, only faltering a little, “Things you are ‘doing’ to his little girl. Not just ‘done.’”

There, you had a point. Surely your father would have had some choice words for his business partner and best friend if he knew how far Joel’s cock was currently stuffed inside your tight, wet cunt. It might even piss him off, if he weren’t too drunk to receive the news himself.

Joel blinked hard, signaling that he knew this too, and presently watched your body swallow all eight inches at once, after you’d raised yourself up to just the tip and sank back. Your ass fell to his groin with an obscene sort of squelch, and your walls involuntarily clenched. You both let out sounds of pleasure, and held on tighter.

Your hands on his chest for stability, while one of his own held your hip and the other fumbled around for your clit, gliding through the sheen of your arousal on his front. You rocked your hips and felt how much it really was—how you’d drenched his whole abdomen with your last release. You smiled at this and stared, pleased with the pretty, sticky display you’d laid bare all over Joel’s belly.

When Joel wasn’t watching you ride, he stared there too.

“Not so ‘little’ anymore,” he mused quietly. Then he looked up to find your eyes, seeing them as glazed as his, “And I ‘like’ you, hon. Present tense. Not just…‘liked.’”

Alright.

“How much?”

You wanted to say it with some confidence. Nonchalance. Then Joel’s cock nicked a particularly sensitive ridge inside your walls, and that thought was gone as quick as it had come. You gripped the flesh of his upper chest and rolled your hips harder. Let out your breaths in little fractured whimpers while you rode him more. Another sweet feeling twisted low in your gut.

With just a glimpse of that, Joel moved his hand from your heat up past your hips and waist, to squeeze one of your breasts. His fingers were wet. You could feel them, equal parts warmth and wanton yearning as the pads pinched your nipple and gave it a firm tug. He grunted.

Clearly, there was more to it than just the touching and feeling for him—Joel’s eyes drank in the sight of your skin as it glistened with the arousal he’d just smeared. He thumbed at the wet, stiff peak and swallowed. And, just as you were about to adjust the rhythm of your hips bouncing on him, his free hand joined the first and pulled you down. You cried feeling his cock wedge deep; your hands fell to either side of his body when he yanked your face down to his. He fucked up into you from underneath

You squealed, soft, “Joel!”

He kissed your open mouth. Made you lay flat overtop him while he fucked your dripping hole. You whimpered.

“Joel—” Again.

“I like you so much, sweetheart,” he said, in answer to your last question, lips close, “Does she like me too?”

As if to save him the trouble of a swift reply in words, your body told him instead. You squeezed around his cock, and with another desperate cry, bit his shoulder. He hammered your poor, aching pussy with a groan of his own, and he held your body down to his. Grinning.

Kissing the side of your head while he pounded away. Stroking your hair, “Is that a ‘yes’? She like her daddy?”

Drool was bound to slip out of your mouth any second. Your lips were locked in a permanent ‘o’ while he drilled from under you on the bed. Still, you managed to nod.

“Uh-huh—oh, fuck, fuck, da-ddy. Yes, daddy.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as another blistering wave seared your insides. Joel was relentless with his thrusts now, driving himself in and out without stopping or slowing. He must’ve known you were close. He was too, judging by the sounds of his grunts and hushed tone.

“Let daddy take care of her then, baby. All of her. OK?”

His words trickled through your ear as sweet as honey. His cock was less kind, but that was okay—you liked it.

You loved him here. Taking care of you. Her. Everything.

And, in this half-coherent state of fuckdrunk pleasure, you were tempted to give in to whatever he begged.

It would be so easy. Joel cradled your face in his hand, practically beaming with pride while he fucked you over and over, and your legs were spread, walls were stretched, eyes practically rolling back, and you felt more secure than you’d been in ages. Joel could care for you.

He rubbed his thumb over your cheek and hummed.

“Daddy’s got you,” he said, voice all warm assurance.

Nudging you closer and closer to your peak—and perhaps some other form of surrender. Release.

Submission?

Joel wouldn’t be so bad for that.

He could fuck you well and leave you content. Make you forget what it meant to be strapped for cash and saddled with guilt and worry over bills every month. Joel could provide, for now. His eyes said as much; his fingers threaded through your hair and rubbed your scalp. He cupped your face, all fifty-six years in his own looking as handsome as they’d ever been. He felt good. He felt safe.

You were hot. Your legs trembled and ached.

“Is that something you’d want?” he pressed.

And, still holding Joel’s gaze with a heavy-lidded, fucked out look of your own, you surprised yourself by nodding, slowly. Your body was spent, but the curve on your lips, then his, was sincere; Joel nodded back as he grinned.

“Yeah? You mean it, sweetheart?”

He flipped you both over and got on top, never breaking apart. You wound your legs around his back and let him cup your cheeks again, and from this angle, you felt it. You wouldn’t try and fight it now; you just kissed him.

Then you came for a third time, walls clenching and squeezing and gushing again, smearing Joel’s front as he fucked you right through it. His groans were a little more subdued than yours, but in their timbre, you could hear his desperation. He emptied himself inside you, in the condom, and kept holding your face all the while.

You felt a low pulse between your legs. Then another. And another. And another. Joel’s hips began to still, his hefty greying belly bumping lightly against your skin while he drained what was left in his balls, and you swore that his bones might’ve creaked from the sheer force of those final thrusts. He seemed exhausted. Somehow, though, the man looked even better in this state—haggard and worn as he was, the face above your own was soft. Smiling, faintly, and kissing you constantly.

You couldn’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it; you were far too tired and fucked out of your mind to protest right now.

Joel trailed a path with his lips from your chin to your ear. He kissed the hinge of your jaw and sank himself deeper.

“Mr.—” But you caught yourself, shortly, “…Joel.”

He lifted his head, not apologetic in the least.

“Maybe just one more—” he started.

“No,” you finished for him, sharp.

Still smiling, but with your eyes on him in a thinly veiled threat. Joel accepted that and kept his dick where it was.

What followed was gradual but natural enough. A little awkward as you broached that uncharted territory of remaining in the other’s presence after the deed was done, but Joel didn’t seem like he wanted to leave the bed, and you had nowhere else to go until dinner with your dad at eight. There was a moment you wanted to separate your body from Joel’s, if only to slip off to the bathroom by yourself, but the man just held you closer.

“You think your old man will mind if I joined tonight?”

Here the fuck we go.

“He’ll kill you.”

You pushed hard against his hold without getting so much as an inch of give. Joel had to fight back a chuckle.

“Oh, yeah? Why?”

“Because,” you began in a huff. Wriggling with very little success in his arms, while you were pinned in missionary, “I smell like you. You smell like me. My dad’s a drunk, but he can sniff stuff like that out in a heartbeat. Too risky.”

You punctuated those words with a still more serious look, but before you could nudge at his chest again or say something more, you were forced to swallow a scream. Joel’s grip tightened even more, and he moved to stand up from the bed—with you still in his arms and impaled on his cock. He started to walk to the bathroom.

“Great. Shower’s got plenty of room for the two of us.”

“Joel!”

“Glad I don’t have to keep reminding you of my name.”

His voice was smug. Your gaze was hard. Joel was still hard himself, amazingly, and you almost groaned when you felt the head of his cock bump somewhere soft and sensitive inside. He toted you into the big, bright room.

“If not tonight, how ‘bout tomorrow? Just you and me.”

He would never stop this shit. He reached for the faucet.

“Still too dangerous. You know that,” you chided. Your resolve only wavered a little when you felt the hot water start to pelt at your back. Joel closed the glass door, “Besides…I need to focus on figuring my shit out right now. Work and bills and getting myself a rental car soon.”

Joel paused. He turned, still holding you.

Then, just as swiftly as he’d stepped inside, he carried you right back out of the shower. You whined in protest.

He took you over to the bed and set you down. He left to find his wallet and keys. You might’ve been tempted to voice your displeasure in some other way—namely, by marching back to the bathroom, locking the door, and bathing alone—but before you could speak a word, Joel was back. He looked down at you and held out his fist.

“What’s—”

“Your dad and me’ll be up to our eyeballs in bullshit working the Garcia audit tomorrow—and I know you don’t want him seeing us leave together anywhere—so we can meet at Bohanan’s at six. How does that sound?”

You blinked.

“I don’t…have a car.”

Joel opened his hand. Keys dropped out.

In a single glance, you could see they weren’t his.

Joel drove a garish Super Duty F-450, not an Audi. The cogs were quick to turn in your head, but clearly not fast enough, because Joel was closing your fingers over the keys before you could breathe so much as a syllable to him. When you did, it came out more like a stutter. Palpably mad but far too rattled to get much out:

“Joel, I-I can’t—”

“I’ve been meaning to buy one anyw—”

“You’re insane,” you started to push the keys back, and for some reason, your heart was thudding extra hard as you did. You went on, unblinking, “You don’t…need to.”

“I want to.”

Joel’s hands were warm when he pressed both of his palms to secure yours between them. He could probably feel the way it shook a little, but he didn’t seem to care. His gaze was too busy trying to find, and hold, your own while you swallowed and stared and racked your numb brain for any words of defiance. At length, nothing came.

All you could do was meet that look. In the soft brown irises above, you could see it all—the need to comfort, and care, and provide where he could, offer better than the hand you’d been dealt and maybe, interspersed with those feelings somewhere, a simpler need in him to give.

For once, you wanted to believe it.

Fun fact: This fic was inspired by true events‼️💯 My life 😫🤪😤😈 Like reader, my truck is also busted as SHIT and needs $2,700 in repairs!!!! Unlike reader, I will not be sucking and fucking Joel Miller to recoup my losses (not asking for donations, just wanted to give y’all a giggle at my misfortune LOL)

#ENOUGH BULLSHITTING WE NEED MORE GLUCOSE GUARDIAN JOEL ON THE TL NEOWWWWW #🫵🏼😐#i’m begging y’all to write more for this very particular and off-putting dynamic bc i love it dearly #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller tlou #the last of us fic

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helioooss · 21 days ago

Text

i was never there

synopsis: yu jumin joins novis corp as it’s head corporate lawyer, but her boss, y/n, remembers her eyes from somewhere else.

w/c: 3k+

warnings: 18+ minors dni!!! stripper by night, lawyer by day karina, swearing

a/n: a short one for the books, this is more a prompt

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the sun had barely crept over the horizon when your sleek aston martin pulled up to the curb of novis corp’s headquarters; the tech conglomerate you had built from scratch. the building, a masterpiece of modern architecture with its reflective glass and sharp geometric lines, it stood as a monument to your success.

as you stepped out of the car, the valet offered a polite bow before retreating and you adjusted your tom ford suit — a deep charcoal grey that sat perfectly on your shoulders, tailored to a level of precision; its silk lining was monogrammed with your initials, a subtle mark of exclusivity.

in your world, every single detail mattered.

as soon as the glass doors opened into the lobby, the atmosphere shifted immediately. the soft murmur of voices hushed to a whisper and employees straightened their postures instinctively as they caught sight of you.

your presence demanded attention, not because you sought it, but because you simply carried an aura of authority. heads bowed as you passed, a wave of respectful acknowledgment rippling through the space.

“good morning, y/n,” someone greeted softly, their voice tinged with awe.

you simply offered a slight nod, your expression unreadable as you stepped into the private lift. the moment the polished steel doors slid shut, the world outside felt momentarily silenced. you allowed yourself a brief glance at your reflection in the mirrored walls, backing a strand of misplaced hair and smoothing down the lapel of your jacket before the lift opened to the top floor.

here, the energy was palpable. this was where the very lifeblood of novis corp flowed, where your senior executives and teams orchestrated the daily operations of the tech giant. the open floor was a hive of activity: assistants juggling tablets and documents, executives murmuring into headsets and a faint hum of urgency in the air.

the moment you stepped out, it was chaos aimed at you.

“miss l/n, the european market data is ready for your review.”

“legal flagged the merger contracts; they need your approval before noon.”

“the board wants confirmation on next quarter’s strategic pivot —”

amidst the shitshow that you specifically called ‘the everyday’, your personal assistant, claire, darted towards you, her heels clicking against the polished wood floor as she clutched a stack of files to her chest whilst her usually composed demeanour was slightly frazzled as she struggled to keep pace with you.

“y/n,” claire began, her voice soft but persistent, “i apologise for the interruption, but felix has been trying to reach you all morning. he said it’s urgent, and i tried to hold him off, but he’s really insistent.”

you glanced at her, stride unbroken whilst offering a faint smile that was more a gesture of reassurance than warmth. “i’ll take care of it, claire. thank you.”

she gave a slight nod, relief evident in her expression, stepping back as you pushed open the heavy oak doors to your private office. the room was a reflection of your meticulous standards: minimalist yet luxurious, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering an unparalleled view of new york city. a sleek, dark wood desk sat in the centre, flanked by leather chairs and a low cabinet housing bottles of vintage scotch.

oh, and the air carried the faintest scent of bergamot, a signature detail you had to have.

as soon as you set your briefcase down, you loosened your tie slightly and sank into your chair. the intercom blinked with pending calls, but you ignored it for now, reaching instead for your personal phone. scrolling through the missed calls, you found felix’s name and with a small sigh, you hit dial.

he answered right after the first ring. “finally!” his voice was a mix of relief and mischief, as it always was when he called you.

“what’s so urgent, felix?” you asked, leaning back in your chair.

“okay, hear me out,” he began, a tell-tale sign that whatever followed would likely test your patience. “there’s this club. super exclusive. like, billionaires-only exclusive. i’m talking black cards, champagne fountains, and the kind of entertainment that makes even the rich blush —“

pinching the bridge of your nose impatiently, you groaned. “just get to the point.”

“well, if you must insist,” he continued, “i need someone to vouch for me. someone who ticks the billionaire box. someone, you know, like you.”

“felix, why on earth would you want to go to a place like that?” you sighed, shaking your head. “everyone will just be as obnoxious as mum.”

“research,” he said, a little too quickly. “and before you ask, yes, it’s legit. i just…need to see it for myself. one night, y/n.“

“research,” you repeated, unimpressed.

“please, my dearest sister,” he pressed. “i promise it’s harmless. just one night, and then i’ll owe you. big time.”

he had always been the rebel — tattoos peeking out from beneath his sleeves, a penchant for bending rules and a charm that got him out of most trouble. he was your stepbrother, younger by five years and despite his antics, you couldn’t help but feel a soft spot for him.

he’d been your constant companion through a tumultuous childhood and for all his recklessness, his loyalty to you was unwavering.

you exhaled deeply. “if this turns into a mess, i swear, felix —”

“it won’t, i swear,” he interrupted eagerly. “you’ll barely even have to do anything. just show up, look rich — which is easy for you and let me in.”

there was a long pause. you weren’t one for foolishness, specially not something as absurd as this, but he had a way of getting under your skin and despite your better judgment, you relented.

“fine,” you mumbled; annoyance evident in your tone. “but this better not blow back on me — the press are already on my ass for not being present enough.”

“you’re the best!” he exclaimed, his relief palpable. “i’ll text you the details.”

shaking your head, you hung up and pressed the intercom button on your desk. “claire,” you began. “i need you to do something for me.”

“that’s my job, y/n,” her voice came through immediately.

“clear my schedule for tonight,” you carefully instructed. “reschedule all appointments and let the rest of the world know i’ll be unavailable after six.”

there was a brief pause from her end. “understood.”

staring out at the sprawling skyline, you heaved out a sigh. this wasn’t your usual scene, but something about it intrigued you nonetheless. tonight promised to be unlike anything you’d done before.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the hum of the limousine was almost soothing as it glided through the city streets, the blacked-out windows shielding you and felix from the world outside. the interior was nothing short of opulent: plush leather seats in a deep oxblood red, a bar stocked with rare whiskies and chilled champagne and soft ambient lighting that cast a warm glow over the polished surfaces.

felix was seated across from you, his legs stretched out casually as he swirled a glass of whiskey he’d poured himself. his usual rebellious flair was subdued tonight, though the faint smirk on his lips betrayed his excitement.

he was dressed sharply, his dark green blazer and crisp black shirt a rare effort on his part. the tattoos that normally peeked from his sleeves were hidden, though you knew they were still there, a reminder of his defiant streak.

you, on the other hand, wore a simple white shirt and blue jeans.

“so,” felix began, his tone light but probing, “how’s the empire going?”

you gave him a sideways glance, your fingers lightly drumming against the armrest. “the empire is fine, felix. novis is on track to secure the venatrix deal by next quarter and the sirocco expansion is finally moving forward.”

“of course it is,” he said with a grin, taking a sip of his drink. “you’ve got the golden touch. everything you touch turns to money.”

“it’s not magic,” you replied, your voice steady. “it’s work. a lot of it.”

he shook his head, leaning forward slightly. “and that’s the problem, y/n. you work too much. when was the last time you actually did something for yourself? and don’t say this counts,” he added, gesturing around the limousine.

you gave him a small, wry smile. “this is for you, not me.”

“exactly my point,” he said, leaning back. “you need to live a little. have some fun. maybe get a girlfriend for once in your life.”

you raised an eyebrow at him. “a girlfriend?”

“yes, a girlfriend,” he said with a chuckle. “you know, someone to share your life with? someone to remind you that there’s more to life than spreadsheets and board meetings?”

you exhaled softly, turning your gaze to the city lights flickering outside the window. “it’s not that simple. i’ve got responsibilities. people rely on me. there’s no room for anything else right now.”

“that’s the excuse you always use,” he said, his tone softer now. “but you’re going to wake up one day and realise you’ve built an empire but never lived your life. is that really what you want?”

his words lingered in the air and for a moment, you simply let them. as the limousine turned down a quieter street, the glow of the city fading into the background, you thought about what he’d said.

was he right? was there something missing in your meticulously crafted life?

before you could dwell on it further, the car slowed to a stop in front of an unassuming black door, illuminated only by a discreet gold plaque that read elysium.

the driver opened your door and the moment you stepped out, you felt the shift in atmosphere. the door was opened from the inside by a tall, sharply dressed man who exuded an air of authority.

“miss l/n, mr. l/n,” he greeted warmly, his deep voice carrying just enough deference to make you feel like royalty. “welcome to elysium. my name is pierre and i’ll personally ensure your evening is nothing short of exceptional.”

“thank you,” you replied, your tone polite but guarded as pierre stepped aside, gesturing for you both to enter.

the interior of the club was breathtaking — sleek and sophisticated, with an undeniable air of exclusivity. red lighting bathed the room, casting a sultry glow over the rich leather furniture and dark wood accents. the faint hum of low music filled the space and the scent of expensive cigars and perfume lingered in the air.

pierre led the way, his posture immaculate. “we’ve limited the floor capacity tonight to ensure you have a comfortable experience. it’s not often we host guests of your calibre.”

your gaze flicked to your brother, whose smirk grew with every step deeper into the club.

“they’re really rolling out the red carpet,” he whispered to you, amusement lacing his tone.

there were silhouettes moving across the far end of the room. they were fluid, deliberate, their movements drawing attention like a magnetic pull.

it wasn’t until you caught the glint of polished metal — a pole, that the realisation struck.

this wasn’t just a private club. it was a strip club.

“i thought you said this was a fucking nightclub,” you muttered in that scolding tone of yours. “or whatever you said it was.”

he laughed at your comment and had deliberately chosen to ignore you, clearly revelling in the attention. as you passed, heads turned subtly, and even the staff seemed to regard you with a mixture of curiosity and respect.

“our girls,” pierre continued as he walked, “are among the finest in the world. each performance is curated to perfection. should you require anything — anything at all, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

“a dance costs a million for each hour,” felix raised his eyebrows playfully. “i can afford it, you have nothing to worry about.”

i’m going to kill him, you thought.

the corridor opened into a sprawling room bathed in deep red light, the glow casting shadows that danced across the rich leather furniture and polished dark wood accents. chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their crystal facets scattering faint prisms of light though the overall effect was moody and intimate rather than pretentious.

pierre, ever the professional, either didn’t notice or chose to ignore the exchange. “elysium prides itself on discretion and sophistication,” he explained, leading you toward the bar. “our performers are not only the best in the industry but also highly selective about where they work. we cater to an exclusive clientele and tonight, they are all eager to perform for you.”

the words hung in the air and while his tone remained formal, there was no mistaking the double meaning.

this wasn’t just about entertainment — it was about status, yours specifically.

“you’ve truly outdone yourselves,” you said evenly, though your tone betrayed nothing of the thoughts swirling in your mind.

“only the best for our esteemed guests,” he replied, stopping at the bar. “would you care for a drink before you settle in? our bartenders specialise in rare and exclusive cocktails.”

“i’ll take a manhattan,” felix answered, leaning against the bar as if he owned the place.

pierre turned his attention to you. “and for you, miss l/n?”

“call me y/n, please,” you requested, keeping your composure. “i’ll have a glass of champagne for now.”

felix shook his head, whilst pierre only nodded. “don’t worry, pierre, this is a good sign — champagne is telltale of the kind of night she plans to have.”

you gave him a look, one that could silence an entire boardroom, but it only made his grin widen.

as the bartender prepared your drinks, your eyes scanned the room. the performers were elegant, their movements slow and deliberate as they worked the poles or engaged in subtle conversations with other guests. the lighting accentuated every curve, every flick of hair, every step in towering heels.

it was seductive, but there was a sophistication to it.

felix clinked his glass against yours when your drinks arrived, his grin mischievous. “welcome to the real world, y/n. you might even have fun tonight.”

before you could respond, he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you alone with pierre, who gestured towards a hallway deeper into the establishment. “y/n, may i guide you to our private bar? we’ve reserved a section just for you.”

you nodded, offering a faint smile. “lead the way.”

he guided you through a discreet side door, the noise from the main hall fading into a low hum as you stepped into a quieter corridor. the lighting here was softer, the air perfumed with hints of amber and bergamot.

the sound of your shoes against the polished marble floor echoed faintly as you trailed behind him.

then, he stopped at a heavy door, its deep mahogany finish gleaming under the warm light. with a subtle bow, he pushed it open, revealing a private space that was both opulent and refined.

the room was bathed in a soft golden glow, with leather seating in a deep burgundy hue arranged around a bar made out of white marble. a crystal chandelier hung above, its light refracting into subtle rainbows across the room. the air was cooler here, yet tinged with the faintest trace of something warm and intoxicating.

“we’ve taken great care to ensure your comfort,” he gestured for you to step inside. “a selection of our finest performers has been prepared exclusively for this space tonight. as per tradition, all our vvip performers wear masks to preserve their mystique.”

your gaze shifted to the centre of the room, where a single pole stood illuminated by a spotlight. at its base, a woman danced, her movements fluid and hypnotic.

she was dressed in black, the fabric clinging to her graceful frame in ways that accentuated her every curve. a delicate mask adorned her face, its intricate lace design concealing her identity while leaving her eyes and lips visible.

and those eyes…

almond-shaped and lined with the faintest hint of shimmer, their depth was startling. they locked onto yours the moment you entered and for a second, it felt as though the world narrowed to just the two of you.

her lips were no less striking, painted a deep crimson that contrasted beautifully against her glowing skin. they moved subtly as she shifted her expression, curving into a faint smile that was neither coy nor brazen but perfectly balanced between the two.

you moved to one of the leather chairs directly in front of the pole, lowering yourself gracefully into the seat. a glass of something pale and sparkling had already been placed on the table before you — krug, if you had to guess.

she danced as though gravity held no dominion over her, movements slow and deliberate; her body bending and turning with an elegance that seemed almost otherworldly.

her eyes never left yours.

there was no touch, no exchange of words. only the silent conversation carried through her gaze.

you sipped your champagne, the crisp bubbles fizzing faintly on your tongue as you watched her.

“her name is karina,” pierre’s voice broke the silence, soft and almost reverent as he stood to the side. “one of our most gifted performers. she never agrees to private dances, but tonight, she insisted.”

you raised an eyebrow at his comment but said nothing, your eyes still locked with hers.

her lips curved slightly, a small but unmistakable reaction to his words. whether it was amusement or approval, you couldn’t tell.

there was a certain kind of power in her performance, an effortless command of the room that rivalled your own presence in the boardroom. it wasn’t just her beauty — it was the way she carried herself, the silent confidence in her every movement.

for the first time in a long while, you felt captivated.

as the music swelled, she climbed higher up the pole, her body arching and twisting with a grace that seemed to defy logic. the light caught her skin as she spun, casting shadows across her toned figure.

her gaze found yours again as if she had never looked away.

the song ended, the final note hanging in the air as karina stilled, her body poised and elegant as she held your gaze one last time. then, without a word, she stepped back into the shadows, disappearing as swiftly as she had appeared.

you leaned back in your seat, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

“she’s…impressive,” you murmured, your voice soft.

“indeed,” he replied, his tone pleased. “shall i have her return for a performance, miss l/n? or would you like to see the next girl?”

you glanced at the glass in your hand, then back at the empty spotlight.

“perhaps,” you said, your tone deliberately nonchalant, though the way your thoughts lingered on those eyes and that smile betrayed you entirely. “i’d like to see karina again.”

he gave a slight bow, his hands clasped neatly in front of him. “i’ll leave you to enjoy the performance, y/n. if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call for me.”

you sent him a faint nod, watching as he quietly slipped out of the room — the air seemed heavier now, charged with something you couldn’t quite name.

the soft spotlight followed her, casting her in a halo of warm light as she emerged out of the shadows. her movements were deliberate, the sway of her hips measured, her body arching with the kind of elegance that felt effortless. the music swelled, a sultry melody that filled the private bar, wrapping itself around you.

the pole became an extension of her, her fingertips grazing it lightly as she spun effortlessly, hair cascading over one shoulder like silk.

pushing yourself up in the leather seat, you cradled the crystal glass in your hand, the crisp bubbles fizzing against your tongue were forgotten.

your attention was fixed solely on her.

her gaze was dark and unrelenting, as though she could see through every wall you’d ever built. it made you feel vulnerable in a way you weren’t used to, yet you couldn’t look away.

for years, your life had been a steady climb to the top. every decision and sacrifice you made — it had all led you to become one of the youngest billionaires in the world; a life of luxury and power, yet moments like this felt foreign to you.

you had never allowed yourself distractions. relationships had always been a distant thought, something you dismissed as incompatible with the weight of your responsibilities. and yet here you were, sitting in the middle of a dark room, utterly captivated by a woman you didn’t know.

as the music deepened, so did her movements. she slid down the pole with precision, her legs extending gracefully before she landed softly on the floor. then, she began to close the distance between you.

you stiffened slightly as she approached, her bare feet making no sound against the polished floor. her every step was a calculated mix of power and allure, head tilting slightly as her eyes burned into yours.

when she reached the edge of your seat, she leaned down, her hands bracing against the armrests on either side of you. the faintest scent of her perfume: something floral with a hint of musk wafted over you.

your breath hitched.

karina’s face was mere inches from yours, her lips curved into a subtle, knowing smile.

she tilted her head, her dark hair spilling over her shoulder and as she leaned closer, her lips brushed against yours — not quite a kiss, but enough to send a jolt through your body.

the touch was light, but it lingered. your hand tightened slightly around the glass, though you made no effort to pull away.

her eyes locked onto yours again, the corner of her lips quirking up ever so slightly. she didn’t move, staying close enough that you could feel the faint warmth of her breath against your skin.

“you’re full of surprises,” she murmured, her voice low and laced with amusement.

“you’re not what i expected,” you replied, your tone steady despite the way your pulse raced.

her smile widened just a fraction, her lips still hovering dangerously close to yours. “and what did you expect, miss l/n?”

you let the question hang in the air, unwilling — or perhaps unable to answer it.

she pulled back slightly, her eyes flickering over your face as if she were committing every detail to memory.

then, with a graceful turn, she returned to the pole, leaving you frozen in your seat, every nerve in your body alive.

but your focus wasn’t on the dance anymore.

it was on her.

the song reached its end, her final spin slow and graceful, her legs extended as she descended to the floor.

when the music ended, she stayed still for a moment, catching her breath, before calling out softly, “cut the music.”

the silence was deafening.

she stood up, reaching for a glass of water placed on the table near the pole. she sipped it slowly, her back turned to you, before setting it down and facing you again.

“you’re y/n l/n,” she said, her voice carrying an easy confidence, as though she were stating an undeniable fact.

you straightened in your seat, your composure returning. “i am indeed, and you’re karina.”

her lips curved into a small smile as she stepped closer, her mask framing her captivating eyes. “so, you’ve heard of me?”

“pierre mentioned your name,” you replied. “and according to him, you never agree to private performances.”

“ah, pierre,” karina chuckled softly, a low and melodic sound that sent another ripple through you. “that’s true, but you’re not exactly a regular guest.”

“why did you agree?” you asked, your voice steadier than you felt.

she tilted her head, her smile deepening. “curiosity.”

“about what?”

her gaze didn’t waver. “about you.”

you raised an eyebrow. “me?”

“it’s not every day the most eligible bachelorette in the world walks into a place like this,” she said, her tone light but pointed. “how could i not be curious?”

her honesty was disarming, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond.

“you don’t seem like the type to come here,” she continued, her voice softer now. “i wanted to see what kind of woman you are.”

“and?” you asked, meeting her gaze.

karina smiled again, enigmatic as ever. “i think you’re a woman who knows exactly what she wants, but you haven’t decided if you’re ready to take it.”

her words hung in the air, sharp yet tantalising. you swallowed hard, the weight of her observation pressing against you.

before you could respond, she glanced at the clock on the wall, her expression softening. “unfortunately, my time’s up — but i will see you again, hopefully.”

you watched as she stepped back, her movements as graceful as ever. “thank you.”

she turned back to you, her dark eyes glimmering. “the pleasure was mine, miss l/n.”

“please call me y/n.”

she nodded and then, just like that, she disappeared through the door, leaving you alone with the lingering scent of her perfume and the memory of her lips brushing against yours.

moments later, pierre entered the room, followed by an awestruck felix.

“holy shit,” felix yelled, his wide eyes taking in the space. “this room is insane. do you know how much this costs?”

you raised an eyebrow at him, still feeling the warmth of karina’s presence. “do i want to know?”

“five million dollars. per dance,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

you smiled faintly, your thoughts far from the number. “well, tonight was the most expensive night i’ve ever had then.”

he put an arm around you, ruffling your hair. “told you you’d enjoy it!”

the limousine hummed softly as it glided through the quiet streets. deeply in your thoughts, you sat stiffly in your seat, legs crossed, arms folded, the leather cool beneath you.

the night had been…complicated, to say the least.

felix, sitting across from you, looked far too pleased with himself, scrolling through his phone with a self-satisfied smirk that only irritated you further.

“never again,” you said sharply, breaking the silence.

he glanced up, the smirk widening as if he’d been waiting for this. “never again, what?”

“you know exactly what i mean,” you snapped, glaring at him. “you are never taking control of a night out again.”

he raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “elysium? come on, it wasn’t that bad.”

“felix,” you said through gritted teeth, “it was a strip club. a strip club. do you have any idea how bad that looks for me? if anyone had taken a photo of me, it could’ve been a PR disaster.”

he laughed, leaning back lazily against the plush seat. “oh please, that place is so exclusive. and anyway, it’s not like you were doing anything scandalous. you sat there, drank champagne and watched a performance. you didn’t even touch anyone. honestly, it was boring.”

you stared at him. “boring? you dragged me to a place where the floor alone costs millions to reserve and you think it’s fine because you had fun?”

“well yeah,” he said casually, shrugging. “and don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy yourself. i saw your face during that dance.”

heat rose to your cheeks and you looked away sharply, your fingers tightening around your arm. “that’s not the point, felix.”

“oh, it absolutely is,” he countered, leaning forward. “look, you’ve spent your entire life building this empire. you’re brilliant at what you do but you don’t live, y/n. you don’t even let yourself breathe. all i did was give you one night to do something out of the ordinary and now you’re acting like the world’s going to end.”

“because it could,” you shot back. “my name, my reputation — it’s all tied to novis. if anything jeopardises that, the fallout would be catastrophic. you don’t understand what’s at stake.”

he tilted his head, his expression softening slightly. “no, i don’t understand,” he said, his voice quieter but still firm. “because unlike you, i actually let myself live every now and then. when was the last time you did something just for yourself, y/n? when was the last time you let yourself feel something that wasn’t tied to work?”

his words hit harder than you wanted to admit. you glanced out the window, the city lights blurring as the limousine sped through the streets. “this isn’t about me,” you muttered, though the defensiveness in your tone betrayed you.

“oh, it’s absolutely about you,” he said with a knowing grin. “come on, admit it. you didn’t hate last night as much as you’re pretending to. i mean, you could’ve walked out anytime, but you didn’t. you stayed.”

you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “felix, i can’t afford to have nights like that. my life isn’t like yours.”

“and that’s exactly the problem,” he said, his voice more serious now. “you’re so afraid of messing up, you don’t even let yourself enjoy anything. y/n, you’re one of the most powerful people in the world and you’re scared of living? what’s the point of all this success if you never let yourself have anything?”

you didn’t answer, his words settling uncomfortably in your chest. instead, you stared out the window, your reflection blurred against the city lights. he leaned back, clearly feeling like he’d won the argument, though he said nothing more.

as the limousine approached your building, you sighed deeply, finally breaking the silence. “this doesn’t mean you’re off the hook. no more clubs, felix. ever.”

he laughed softly, shaking his head. “we’ll see.”

as it rolled to a stop, you stepped out without another word, the weight of the conversation lingering as you made your way inside.

you couldn’t stop thinking about the way karina had looked at you — as if she saw right through the walls you had spent years building.

her eyes haunted you, dark and full of secrets you suddenly found yourself wanting to uncover. and for the first time in years, you wondered if there was something, or someone, outside your carefully constructed world worth stepping into the unknown for.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the morning was as chaotic as ever, the hum of novis corp’s top floor vibrating with urgency the moment you stepped out of the private elevator. polished shoes clicked against a mix of wooden and marble floors, assistants and executives alike moved from desk to desk, each with something that required your attention.

“y/n,” the updates for the venatrix deal are ready.”

“legal has flagged the elara contract for revisions.”

“the team needs your approval on the new AI interface by noon!”

normally, you thrived in the controlled storm of your office. today, however, your mind was elsewhere. your focus wasn’t on contracts or product launches — it was on her.

the memory of last night lingered in sharp detail: the intoxicating crimson glow of the club, her sharp gaze, the brush of her lips against yours.

karina had left an imprint you couldn’t shake, no matter how much you tried.

the design meeting was supposed to centre you. the team presented mock-ups for novis’s latest AI interface, a sleek design meant to revolutionise smart tech, but as the lead designer droned on about user functionality, your attention slipped.

their words barely registered. your eyes were on the screen, but your mind was still in elysium. the feel of her perfume in the air, the way her eyes had locked onto yours: daring you to react.

“y/n?” samuel, the lead designer’s voice, broke through your thoughts, ultimately bringing you back to the present.

you blinked, shifting slightly in your seat. “yes?”

“we were asking for your feedback on the gradient colour scheme versus the flat monochrome,” he said, his tone careful.

you glanced at the screen, the options displayed clearly, but for once, the answer didn’t come easily. “the gradient,” you pointed after what seemed like at eternity. “it’s fine.”

a few of the designers exchanged surprised glances. it wasn’t like you to give such a vague response.

when the meeting ended, you stepped into the hallway, only to find giselle waiting for you, leaning casually against the wall with a look of exaggerated curiosity.

“well, that was weird,” she said, falling into step beside you.

“what are you talking about?” you asked, your tone clipped as you navigated through the bustling corridor.

“you,” she replied, waving a hand dramatically. “you’ve been off all morning. normally, you’re snapping necks and giving ted talks in these meetings. today, you were practically sleepwalking. so, spill. what’s going on?”

“nothing,” you said curtly.

she narrowed her eyes, clearly not buying it. “is this a felix thing? what did he do now? start a crypto farm in the middle of montana? buy a haunted house because ‘it looked cool’? or, wait — did he drag you to one of those ridiculous underground poker rings again?”

you gave her a sharp look. “felix has nothing to do with this.”

“so there is something,” she said, her smirk growing. “come on, boss, you can’t keep secrets from me. i’m like the human recourses version of sherlock holmes.”

“giselle,” you warned, stopping in your tracks and fixing her with a pointed glare, “drop it.”

she raised her hands in mock surrender, but her grin didn’t waver. “fine, fine, i’ll drop it; but if you spontaneously combust during the next board meeting, don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

as you started walking again, she called after you, “oh, by the way, your new head corporate lawyer is waiting in your office. yu jimin. punctual, sharp as a blade, and word on the street: dangerously hot. good luck!”

the name sent a jolt through you, stomach twisting as you reached your office doors, the memory of last night rushing back with startling clarity.

when you stepped inside, the first thing you noticed was the figure standing near the window.

she was dressed sharply in a black suit that fit her perfectly, the crisp white shirt beneath it undone just enough to convey confidence without stepping into arrogance. her posture was relaxed, one hand resting lightly on her hip, the other at her side.

her dark hair was pulled back neatly, accentuating the sharp lines of her face. when she turned at the sound of the door, your breath caught.

her eyes met yours, and for a split second, the world tilted.

it was her.

the woman who had unraveled you the night before, the one who had danced with the kind of precision and allure that left you spellbound.

karina.

no, yu jimin.

“miss l/n,” she greeted, her voice smooth, calm, and so painfully familiar. “it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

you forced yourself to nod, gesturing toward the chair across from your desk. “miss yu, please, have a seat. and call me y/n.”

you walked quickly to your desk, avoiding her gaze as you settled into your chair. when you finally looked up, the intensity in her eyes was undeniable.

she sat with perfect posture, her hands resting lightly on her lap, her expression polite but unreadable.

“so,” you began, clearing your throat, “tell me about your experience. what drew you to novis corp?”

her lips curved into a faint smile, one that sent a chill through you.

“my career has largely focused on high-stakes corporate law,” she said smoothly. “mergers, acquisitions, billion-dollar lawsuits — you name it. novis corp stood out to me because of its reputation for innovation and precision. it’s a company that demands excellence; i happen to provide that.”

her tone was professional, poised. but then her eyes glinted, and her smile widened just slightly.

“but if i’m being honest,” she added, “it wasn’t just the company that intrigued me. after last night, the person behind it all captured me.”

your chest tightened, but you forced yourself to maintain a neutral expression.

“i’m not sure what you’re referring to,” you said evenly, though your voice wavered just slightly.

“of course not,” she said, her smile deepening, though she didn’t press further.

the rest of the meeting passed in a blur of questions and answers, though the tension in the room never dissipated. every time her gaze lingered on you, you felt your resolve crack, memories of her dance, her eyes and her lips flashing vividly in your mind.

when it concluded, jimin stood gracefully, smoothing her blazer as she moved toward the door.

just as she reached for the knob, you hesitantly called out, “and miss yu?”

she paused, turning back to face you. “yes?”

you met her gaze, forcing your voice to remain steady. “i was never there.”

her smile returned, slow and knowing, her eyes glinting with something that sent a shiver down your spine. “don’t worry — the only person in that room was karina.”

for the second time in two days, yu jimin had left you completely undone.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the end.

#kpop x reader #karina imagines #karina x reader #karina #aespa x reader #kpop gg #kpop imagines #jimin x reader #yu jimin

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jinkiezzsstuff · 10 months ago

Note

Hello dear!! I have a request for the Radio Demon

Do you mind writing sub!Alastor? Imagine your in lobby of the hotel with your beloved Alastor (on his lap) and you decide to do some frisky cockwarming with him.. well in the beginning he has control but then maybe Charlie or Lucifer u walks in.. you decide to tease him until he can't take it anymore and ends up having to cover his moans as he gums in you..

Welp! That's my request🎀 you can delete this ofc but do as you will ~

from windigo anon🦌

i’m drooling, frothing at the mouth, going insane, i love this idea!!! eeeee thank you so much i hope this was good enough i struggled a bit with cockwarming so i hope i did well

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, cockwarming, SUB!Alastor/DOM!Reader, creampie, possible breeding kink, exhibitionism, Lucifer knows what you’re doing, he’s the devil, and you use him to tease Al, jealous lucifer, lucifer is a cuck lowkey, reader wears a dress but no gendered terms or anything, maybe threesome elements?, OOC ALASTOR, NOT proof read, LMK what i missed! xo

word count: 1.9K

You and Alastor have been a thing for a very long time, and throughout the years he’d become rather comfortable with sexual intimacy. Alastor always held the reigns no matter where in life he was, that is excluding the bedroom. Alastor had made a foolish deal with you long ago, he wanted your soul and you were a fairly powerful demon at the time so there was a sit down conversation about such endeavours. You agreed to sell your soul and tie yourself to him, complete all tasks he needed done, so long as he was your bitch. Well, that wording wasn’t used back then, nor was there any sexual innuendos in the mix.

Before it simply meant he couldn’t try to place fear into you, he always had to speak truthfully when it came to you, and if plan involved you, essentially to the outside world he was allowed to look like the boss but behind closed doors he wasn’t allowed to pull that stunt. You two ended up getting along quite nicely as the years went by, your magic side of the deal made it so if he broke his promises, the deal would be off and more then likely fatal to the both of you, so it wasn’t too surprising things went well.

What was surprising was the relationship you developed, Alastor was unable to lie to you about most things due to your deal and most of the time you approached him as a peer lacking judgement. Even when you disagreed with his plans you still still gave your genuine advice and thoughts which made him trust you. Slowly through this weird bond of trust and leaning on each other, Alastor developed romantic feelings and thank god you felt them back.

Alastor was slow to warm up to affections, which meant you normally took over, letting him keep his poise and smile you’d always make the first move, asking for consent to push further whether it was a simple hug, kiss, or a little more frisky. Eventually though, things got to the point they’re at now, where Alastor craves you like his lungs crave air. He is ravenous for your touch, your kiss, your head surrounding his cock. It’s a tough couple months during mating season because he begs and begs for you like a starved man.

Because of his eagerness for you, and to please you, he’s very kindly broadened his horizons leading to absolutely tasteful trying of kinks. Recently the two of you have been planted at the hotel, Alastor called upon you the day he got there, and privately when alone explained his plans with the Devils child, your man had always been an ambitious one, but you couldn’t say no to him. So of course you stood alongside his plans, and now you’re not only dealing with the Devils child, but the devil himself.

Lucifer moved himself in after the big ol’ brawl, and thankfully things have gone somewhat smoothly between Alastor and Lucifer, as in they haven’t killed each other yet, but Lucifer made it his absolute mission to try and “steal you away,” like he did with Adam. Obviously you were committed to Alastor, but your mind would wander to sinful places about all the ways you could show Lucifer how much you loved you deer man. Oh and you just knew how.

Alastor sat in the lobby, looking through a newspaper as he sipped his coffee, music humming softly in the background. The whole lobby was vacant, even Husk was gone for the moment, you made sure of it. Walking into the lobby from the kitchen, your dress flowing around your legs, you walked up to Alastor with a warm smile on your face. “What’re you up to my dear?” You ask softly, making him hum eyes shifting from his newspaper to you, dragging up your form. “Just a little bit of reading, nothing much my doe,” Alastor seemed sleepy almost in the state he was in, his voice was soft and lacking his usual enthusiasm, however it wasn’t a state you were unfamiliar with knowing him for so long.

Slowly you lowered yourself sideways onto his lap, he complied with your actions wordlessly by whisking his newspaper away with his magic, allowing you to scootch yourself right up on him. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you played with the short hairs at the base, causing him to visibly shiver. Alastor smiled down at you softly, watching you tenderly. “I feel,” You whispered with a pause, mimicking somebody taking a thoughtful breath. “Needy.” You breathe out with a cheesy smile plastered on your face. Alastor jolts a bit still entirely not used to forward language such as that, but he didn’t say anything simply blinked at you.

“I think i’m gonna lift this dress up, and your gonna unbuckle these pants, and i’m gonna seat myself nice n comfy on ya,” You purred hands messaging all around his chest as you spoke, trailing down to the button of his slacks and back up to his shoulders. You felt him twitch against his pants, the blood obviously was already flowing to his groin. “Dear we’re in public.” Try as he may, Alastors words were wobbly and his smile looked more like a grimace.

“No baby, we’re in private, in our new home, at the hotel, where no one can see.” You cooed condescendingly, pulling your hands away to hike up your dress. Alastor dared to looked down as you bunched your dress at your hips. Alastor closed his eyes, head falling back at the sight of you bare, nothing but your dress skirt keeping you covered. Turning yourself around, you put your back to him, grinding yourself down on him teasingly.

“Y’know what to do, don’t make me say it dear.” Your voice was stern compared to the tone you held before, Alastor blew out air at your words, head still thrown back at rest on the back of the sofa. Finally he brought his hands from the resting position next to him, and freed himself from his slacks and boxers. You sighed happily as you slowly inched your way down on him, Alastors hands gripped your hips harshly, and his legs kicked out and spasmed every inch you took down.

Once buttoned out, you fixed your gown to flow around you, and backed yourself up against his chest, head rested on his shoulder. Brining his head up to gaze down at you, Alastor gave you a questioning look, sweat already gathering on his forehead. “Dear please-” Alastors words got caught off by a boisterous call, and the front door swinging open. Fixing his posture, Alastor snapped into position, positioning his legs up right feet on the floor, straightening his back, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you up with him.

“Hellloooo everybody! Just had an amazing meeting, everything went in my favour, as always.” Lucifer waltzed in swinging his cane. He briefly paused scanning the room to see only you two sitting stiffly. You were more relaxed, eyes littled with an easygoing smile, Alastor however was tense; his smile was tight and unfriendly, with his eye twitching. “Well hello there you two, lovely to see you here.” Lucifer smiled happily plopping himself on the couch next to you, making you two shake.

The small bit of motion from Lucifer throwing himself down, made you clench, your arousal leaking down Alastors cock and onto his pants. Clearing his throat to suppress a moan, Alastor then gave a tiny ‘hello’ to the devil. Turning your body more toward the devil, you made sure to pick yourself up off Alastor a bit, and lower yourself back down, making him sink his nails into you.

Wrapping one arm around Alastors neck, you leaned sideways against him, facing Lucifer, your skirt successfully obstructing the entire view of your sin. “Do tell Luce.” You urge pretending to care, Lucifer caught on to the strange behaviour immediately however he wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it yet, so he pushed on shrugging and explaining his meeting. You coyly moaned occasionally throughout his explanations playing it off as “oh”s and “ah”s to his story rather than Alastors twitching cock.

Leaning forward Alastor stuck his blushing face in your hair, breathing heavily into it. “Is he doing okay?” Lucifer asked suddenly, quirking a brow at Alastor. Around your waist Alastors arms tightened, and his legs once again spread and splayed out a bit allowing him more space. Alastor felt pitiful, but in a way he loved it, only you had this power and nobody else, he could live with that. Alastor was too blitzed out to realise he’d subtly humped up into you, needing some sort of release. Playing with Alastors hair, you shrugged your shoulders at the devil, your poise still in tacked.

“Yes, I do believe he’s a little sickly.” Lucifer noticed the twitch in Alastors hips now, his eyes growing in size every so slightly. “Yknow i just want to stay something Lucifer,” You begin to say, eyeing Al from your peripheral, seeing his eyes closed. “I really think we ought to stop with the battle, Alastor treats me very well, very good,” You purr fixing your posture, making Alastor groan into your hair.

“I think it’s time to stop with the whole ‘i could take your partner’ shtick.” You say sharply, with finality, Lucifers eyes at this point were flicking back and forth between the two of you, a prominent blush on his face. You grinned cheekily once again and shifted again trying to fix yourself to face forward again, as you did so you heard Lucifer take a breath to speak, but it got interrupted by a guttural groan from Alastor.

Without warning Alastors legs flexed his hips jerking involuntarily up against you, it caught you off guard and made you gasp and moan. It didn’t stop after one thrust, Alastor sunk his teeth into your shoulder jerking his hips up into you, panting and groaning without care. With one forceful thrust and growl, you whined feeling him force himself against you fully, cumming far up into you, stealing your breath. Lucifer watched bug eyed and taken aback, he never saw Alastor so pleasured, now he felt a ping of jealousy; before this moment he wanted to steal you away to show you how much better he can fuck you compared to Alastor, now he wanted you to fuck him and make him feel the way Alastor felt now.

Alastors form grew demonic, stretching and contorting, you still in his lap. You didn’t move an inch as he contorted, not afraid of Alastor what so ever. Alastors neck snapped inhumanely to Lucifer. “You are to never speak of this again.” Alastors voice didn’t sound like his own when he spoke, and whether or not Lucifer was truly scared didn’t matter as he fumbled, stuttered and then stumbled off covering his eyes and apologising. With the snap of his fingers, Alastor magicked the two of you in the safety of his radio tower, where no one dared to enter unwelcomed. “Dear, that was unacceptable. But amusing, you get away with this little fiasco only because it was Lucifer you did it in front of.”

Alastor growled at you demonic form on display, smile stretched, he had your cheeks tightly pinched in between his nails. Shrugging your shoulders, you tiptoed up to give his teeth a coy kiss. “Whatever maybe now he’ll leave us alone.”

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soentendequemnamora · 2 years ago

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A importância de ter um hobby

A vida da maioria dos adultos exige muita dedicação nas mais diversas áreas: trabalhar, cuidar dos filhos, cumprir metas, resolver problemas, cobranças de “todos os lados” etc. Em um mundo tão corrido, deveria sobrar algum tempo para que a pessoa cultive alguma atividade exclusivamente para passar tempo e sem “nenhuma função” que não seja divertir? Segundo os especialistas, sim. Conforme um…

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cowboybeepboop · 2 months ago

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Temptation

"I’m right here. I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."

Pairing: Scott Miller x fem! Reader

Genre: Smut, angst with a fluffy ending

Word count: 5.3k

Summary: You have a crush on Scott which leads to a passionate night together, he leaves in the morning and you have to face him at work the next day.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, p in v sex, one night stand.

a/n: Idk with this one, I usually write soft and romantic so even when I tried something new it ended soft and romantic. Hopefully you enjoy it, as always send any requests you have my way! I love writing requests, I’m also looking to broaden the characters I write for so let me know if you have anything for other fandoms <3

As the headlights of Javi's pickup truck flickered across the neon sign of the "Easy Sleep Motel," the anticipation of finally seeing Scott again filled the air.

For the past few weeks, you had been chasing storms together in the heart of Tornado Alley, forming a bond that went beyond the thrill of the hunt. Scott had become more than just a colleague; his piercing blue eyes and strong jawline had sparked a flame of attraction in you that you hadn't been able to ignore.

He knew about your crush, and while he remained professional, there was an undeniable tension that danced between you like the lightning in the tempestuous skies you both loved so much. Tonight was no different, as you pulled into the motel parking lot, exhausted but exhilarated from another successful day of navigating through the volatile dance of nature's fury.

The lot was a chaotic symphony of chatter and diesel engines, with teams from all over the country sharing tales of the day's conquests and preparing for the night's rest before the next round of adrenaline-fueled chases. Javi turned to you with a knowing grin, "Looks like we're the last ones in again," he said, cutting the engine. "Ready to face the music?"

You nodded, your heart racing with excitement, unsure if it was the thought of seeing Scott or the impending storms that lay ahead. The cool evening breeze whispered through the open window, carrying with it the faint scent of rain and the promise of a new adventure waiting just beyond the horizon.

Scott had been waiting patiently in the motel lobby, leaning against the counter and shooting the breeze with the front desk clerk, a young girl with a warm smile and a hint of mischief in her eyes. He had been watching the parking lot, anticipating your arrival, his gaze drawn to the approaching headlights of your truck.

As you and Javi entered the lobby, Scott pushed away from the counter, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. His eyes flicked over you, taking in your wind-swept hair and the flush on your cheeks. “Finally decided to join us, huh?”

You brush away the strands of hair that are stuck to your sweaty skin. Sighing as you lean on to Javi’s shoulder, exhausted from the chase.

“Yeah, had to stop to get some food.” Javi smiles, wrapping an arm around your waist.

Scott's eyes flicker to Javi's arm around your waist, a hint of irritation in his gaze. He knows there's nothing more than friendship between you and Javi, but the sight of him touching you in such an intimate way stirs a mix of frustration and possessiveness within him.

He leans against the counter again, folding his arms across his chest. “Good thing you remembered to eat. Wouldn’t want you passing out on the road.” His tone is nonchalant, but there's a hint of an edge to it.

“Guys, I’m gonna head upstairs..” you yawn, grabbing your bag from Javi’s hand. As you bid Javi goodnight and start to head towards your room, Scott feigns indifference, pretending to gather his own things. He watches you from the corner of his eye as you make your way down the narrow hall.

After a few moments, he follows at a safe distance, his footsteps light and his eyes fixed on your back. He waits until you reach your room and unlock the door before he approaches, clearing his throat.

“Oh, Scott.” Your eyes light up as you catch his gaze, a small smile planted on your lips.

Scott's heart skips a beat as he sees the smile on your face. He tries to play it cool, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the wall next to your door.

"Hey." He says simply, his blue eyes searching your face. "Got a minute?"

“Mhm, come on in.” You open the door for him, going inside and taking a seat on your bed.

Scott follows you into the room, shutting the door softly behind him. He takes a moment to take in his surroundings, his gaze lingering on the way the dim light casts shadows across your features.

He sits down on the edge of the bed, his knee brushing against your leg. "So, uh, I wanted to talk to you about something."

“Yeah?” You turn to face him, “What’s up?” Your heart skips a beat as you gaze at his face.

Scott swallows, his throat suddenly feeling dry. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair, trying to compose himself.

"Well, it's just... I've been thinking... about us..." He trails off, his gaze flickering down to where his knee touches yours.

You press your palm to his thigh, shifting closer to him. “Us? What about us?” Your voice is soft and full of vulnerability.

As your hand brushes against his thigh, Scott's breath hitches in his throat. It's a simple touch, but it sends sparks dancing across his skin.

He turns to look at you, his eyes filled with an intense mix of desire and uncertainty. "I just... Can I be honest with you?"

“Yes, of course.” You murmur. Scott takes a deep breath, his gaze never straying from yours.

"I've been fighting this for a long time, but I can't deny it anymore. I'm attracted to you. I feel something when I'm around you that I've never felt with anyone else."

He reaches out, his fingers lightly grazing your cheek, the pads of his fingertips tracing the curve of your jawline. "It's driving me crazy."

You smile sweetly as you lean it for a soft kiss. Scott's eyes widen in surprise as you lean in, but he quickly melts into the kiss, his hand moving to cup the back of your head.

His lips are warm against yours, his body tense as he pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. He kisses you deeply, his tongue darting to meet yours, a soft moan escaping his throat.

Scott grips your shorts as he tugs them down your legs, revealing the damp fabric of your underwear clinging to your skin. His eyes rake over you hungrily, drinking in the sight of your bare flesh. You shiver in anticipation, your body responding to his touch as if it had been waiting for this moment all along.

He kisses you again, his hand slipping beneath the elastic waistband, his fingertips grazing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You gasp into his mouth, your hips arching towards him as he explores higher. The tension between you snaps like a tightly coiled spring, and you find yourself desperately wanting more.

He seems to understand, his kisses growing more urgent as he helps you out of the rest of your clothes, leaving you exposed and trembling before him. The room feels electric with the storm of emotions brewing inside you, the anticipation of what's to come as potent as the scent of rain in the air outside.

Scott's hands continue to roam over your body, his calloused fingers leaving a trail of fire as he pulls away the last barriers between you. He stands, quickly stripping off his own shirt and pants, his eyes never leaving yours. You watch, your breath hitching, as he reveals the powerful muscles of his chest and the defined lines of his abs, his desire for you evident in the bulge of his boxers.

With a sense of urgency, he hooks his thumbs under the waistband and slides them down, freeing his erection. It stands proudly between his legs, a testament to his need for you. He moves closer, his bare skin pressing against yours, and you can feel the heat of his arousal as it brushes against your stomach.

Your own need is palpable, your body aching for the connection you've both been craving. He kisses you again, his tongue delving deep, as he gently guides you back onto the bed, his weight pressing you into the soft mattress.

With a groan, Scott positions himself between your legs, his hand guiding his erection to your entrance. He teases you, the tip of his cock barely brushing against your wetness, making you squirm and beg for more.

He smiles, a predatory glint in his eye, before he finally pushes in, inch by inch, filling you up. The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pain and pleasure that makes you dig your nails into his back. He pauses for a moment, giving you time to adjust to his size, before he starts to move.

His strokes are slow and deliberate at first, each one sending waves of sensation crashing through your body like the thunder outside. He watches your face, memorizing every twitch and gasp as he moves deeper, his eyes dark with desire. As he starts to pick up the pace, the storm inside you matches the one raging outside, lightning strikes of pleasure firing through your veins with every thrust.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, your bodies moving in a primal dance as old as the tempests you both chase. The sound of the rain on the motel roof is the only music needed as you two lose yourselves in the intensity of the moment.

As your bodies reach their crescendo, the storm outside mirrors the tumultuous passion within the motel room. Your cries of ecstasy meld with the roar of the thunder, and Scott's deep, guttural groans echo through the air as he releases himself inside you.

The force of your shared climax sends tremors through your limbs, leaving you both panting and gasping for breath. He pulls out slowly, his gaze locked on yours, the connection between you still burning bright. He then collapses beside you, his muscular form sprawling out on the bed, one hand resting on your hip.

The rain taps a soothing rhythm against the window as you both lay there, entwined in the aftermath of your first intimate encounter. The room is thick with the scent of sweat and sex, a testament to the raw power of your union.

Scott's eyes never leave yours, a mix of satisfaction and something deeper, something that makes your heart flutter in your chest. You curl into him, your head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as the storm outside begins to dissipate.

As you wake up the next morning, the room bathed in the soft morning sunlight, you reach out to the empty space beside you, the sheets still warm from where Scott had been lying.

You sit up, the events of the previous night still fresh in your mind, and a pang of disappointment washes over you as you realize he's gone. His clothes are nowhere to be found, the only evidence of his presence being the lingering scent of his cologne on the pillow and the imprint of his body on the mattress.

As you hastily pull your clothes on, the weight of Scott's absence settles heavily on your chest. The room suddenly feels too small, claustrophobic even, and the air seems to thicken around you.

You can't believe he left without a word, without a note, without any explanation for his actions. Tears threaten to fall, and the lump in your throat feels like it's about to choke you.

You hear a knock on the door, quickly pulling yourself together as you gather your things. When you open the door you see Javi with his warm smile and a cup of coffee.

“Good morning Javi,” you murmur, voice quiet as you take the drink from his hand.

Javi studies your face, concern etching his features. "Hey, you alright? You look like you've been through the wringer."

He takes in your red-rimmed eyes, the tightness in your shoulders, and the slight shakiness in your hands.

“Mhm,” you let out a strangled sigh as you leave the room, locking the door behind you.

Javi falls into step beside you as you make your way down the hall. He glances sideways at you, his forehead creased.

"You sure you want to head out today?" he asks gently. "You look exhausted."

“Yeah, of course.” You give him a forced smile, “I'm great, just a little tired.” Your eyes fall on Scott’s back as he talks to one of the team members.

Dread fills your veins as you take in the scene in front of you. Javi follows your gaze, noticing the way you react to the sight of Scott. He shifts awkwardly, his eyes flickering between Scott and you.

"Uh, maybe you should-" he starts to say, but you cut him off abruptly.

“Let’s go get breakfast,” you intertwine your fingers with his as you lead him out the door.

Javi shoots another glance at Scott, a protective look in his eyes as you pull him outside. The sun is already high in the sky, and it's beginning to warm the air.

He doesn't say anything, simply allowing you to lead the way as he keeps pace beside you. He can sense the tension in your body, the way your hand grips his tightly.

You sit in the passenger side of Javi’s truck, sighing as you relax into the seat, eyes fluttering shut.

Javi can feel the weight of your tiredness in the way you sit next to him, the way your head rests back against the headrest. He watches you from the corner of his eye as he turns the key in the ignition.

As the truck comes to life, the engine rumbling underneath you, he speaks quietly. "You don't have to put on a brave face for me, you know."

Your lip quivers as you turn to look out the window. “Javi..” you sigh, tears building in your eyes.

Javi's heart clenches in his chest as he hears the shake in your voice, the way it trembles as you say his name. He reaches out, his hand finding yours on the console and squeezes it gently.

"Hey," he murmurs, his voice soft and soothing. "You can talk to me. It's okay."

“It’s Scott..” you take a deep breath, “uh we slept together and he left like nothing happened.” A tear slips from your eye as you bite your cheek, turning to look at him.

Javi's eyes widen in surprise, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "What? You slept with Scott?"

He glances over at you, taking in the tears in your eyes, the pain etched into your face. His protective nature kicks in, and he pulls the truck off the road.

“I thought,” you purse your lips, “I thought he felt the same way I did, but I guess it was just him trying to get some.” Your tone gets more irritated the more you speak.

Javi rubs a hand over his face, clearly frustrated with the situation. "That idiot," he mutters under his breath. He knows Scott has feelings for you, something more than just lust, yet he screwed up his chances with you in the span of one night.

He looks at you, his eyes soft with concern. "Hey, you know Scott's always been a bit... careless when it comes to relationships."

You nod, taking a deep breath and steeling your expression. “I know, I should’ve known better..” Javi brushes away your tears.

The day dragged on, each moment feeling heavier than the last as you tried to ignore the storm brewing inside you. You focused on the tasks at hand, the mundane activities of packing up your gear and checking weather reports, all while avoiding Scott's piercing gaze.

He had retreated to his own space, his eyes dark with regret and confusion. You knew you had to keep your distance; the tension was palpable, a stark contrast to the easy camaraderie you once shared.

Javi, ever the perceptive friend, noticed the shift in your demeanor and the cold shoulder you were giving Scott. He tried to keep the peace, cracking jokes and steering conversations away from the unspoken elephant in the room. His attempts to lighten the mood were met with forced laughter, the tension stretching tauter with each passing hour.

“Let’s go to a bar.” You suggest as Javi starts the engine. “There’s one right next to the motel,”

Javi raises an eyebrow at your suggestion, a small grin playing at the corner of his lips. "You sure that's a good idea?"

He can sense the need to blow off some steam in your voice, and he knows there's no stopping you now that you've made up your mind.

“It’ll be great,” you smile at him as he pulls out into the street. Scott’s vehicle trails behind you along with the rest of the team. Javi lets them know that you’re going to the bar tonight.

After a short drive, you arrive at the bar next to the motel. It's a small, dive-bar type establishment, with a neon sign out front that flickers in the evening light.

As you get out of the car, Scott rolls up on your left, parking his vehicle alongside you. He hops out of his car, he saunters over to you and Javi.

You ignore his presence, grabbing Javi’s hand as you lead him to the entrance. Javi doesn't miss the way you purposefully avoid even looking in Scott's direction, but he decides to play along, keeping his focus solely on you.

When you reach the door, Javi opens it for you, and the two of you step inside. The bar is dimly lit, the air thick with the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke. A few patrons are already scattered around, some playing pool, others watching the game on the old television set in the corner.

A few drinks in, Javi leaves to get some fresh air, leaving you alone at the table. Scott comes up to you, his face hardened as he takes a seat next to you, you avoid his gaze.

Scott sits down heavily in the chair next to you, the sound of his weight hitting the hard wood making you flinch slightly. He leans in, close enough that you can smell the alcohol on his breath.

"We need to talk," he says gruffly, his voice low.

“Why?” You turn away from him, giving him the cold shoulder.

Scott scowls at you, his eyes narrowing. "Don’t give me that attitude. We need to talk about what happened."

He grabs your arm, trying to turn you back towards him, but you stubbornly resist. Scott's grip tightens, his fingers biting into your flesh.

You move to pull his hand away, “I don’t feel like talking, Scott.” Your eyes are full of unshed tears as you look at him.

Scott's expression softens slightly when he sees the look in your eyes, a sense of guilt flickering in his own gaze. He loosens his grip on your arm but doesn’t let go.

"I know I was a dick, okay," he mutters, looking away. "But that doesn’t change the fact that we clearly need to talk."

“Scott, just leave it alone.” You get out of your seat, walking toward the exit.

Scott clenches his jaw, annoyed by your stubborn refusal to engage with him. He follows after you, reaching out to grab your wrist.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he asks through gritted teeth.

“Are you fucking drunk? Leave me alone.” You pull out of his grasp, successfully leaving the bar, Scott still hot on your heels.

Scott catches up to you just as you exit the bar, the cool night air hitting your face. He wraps his strong arms around your waist, pulling you back against his chest and holding you in place.

His voice is softer now, the edges of annoyance faded. "Please, just listen to me."

“Scott,” you gasp his name, shocked by his hold on you. “Please stop, please. I don’t want to hear your excuses.”

Scott tightens his grip, pulling you even closer against him. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling the scent of your perfume.

"It's not an excuse," he murmurs, his warm breath tickling your ear. "I was scared, okay? Scared of what I was feeling."

You shiver in response, hands moving to pull his arms away. “Scott..”

Scott resists your attempts to pull away, holding you firmly against him, arms wrapped around your body like a steel trap.

"Please," he pleads, his voice low and urgent. "Just listen to me. I messed up, okay? I know I did. But I thought-" He stops, taking a deep breath, his words getting caught in his throat.

“Thought what?” You murmur, still pulling at his arms, trying to wiggle away from him.

Scott lets out a frustrated growl, his grip on you tightening even more as he leans down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck, just below your ear.

"I thought walking away would make it easier," he mutters, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it didn’t. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I left your room this morning."

“You know that’s not fair.” You sigh, stilling your movements as you relax in his arms.

Scott takes advantage of your pause, pressing his body even closer against you, his muscular frame molding to the curves of your body.

He nips gently at your neck, a low moan escaping from his throat as he speaks. "I know. I’m an idiot." You gasp at his lips against your skin.

He runs his hands down your sides, coming to rest on your hips, his fingers gripping the flesh tightly.

"But I can’t stop thinking about you, about the way your body felt under mine. The way you responded to me, the way you cried out my name-" Scott cuts himself off with another low moan, his breath hot against your skin, the desire in his voice undeniable.

“Scott, I..” you groan, body reacting to his touch. Scott relishes in your response, his hands moving back up to grip your hips, pulling you even closer so that your back is pressed firmly against his chest.

He kisses your neck, his lips tracing a path up to your earlobe, where he bites down gently. "Say my name again," he husks, his voice gravelly and filled with need.

“Scott, stop it..” you move out of his grasp, head spinning with desire and your stubbornness.

Scott growls at your resistance, and in a quick move, he pins you against the wall of the building, trapping you between the solid brick and his hard body.

His eyes are darkened with desire, his face mere inches away from yours. "Stop what? Stop touching you? Stop wanting you?" He leans in even closer, his voice a deep, rough whisper.

“Quit trying to sweet talk me,” you sigh, head leaning against the wall as his lips work against your neck.

Scott chuckles darkly, his lips curving into a wicked smile as he nips at your skin. "Sweet talk you? I'm not trying to sweet talk you, sweetheart. I'm telling you the truth."

He moves one of his legs in between yours, effectively trapping you even further. His fingers trail over your skin, leaving a path of fire in their wake.

You push at his chest, “Scott, not here.” He relishes the sight of your eyes, the way they're filled with a mixture of desire and vulnerability, and he can almost feel the fight leaving your body.

Scott steps back, his chest heaving from the effort it took to resist his own desires. His eyes rake over your body, taking in the way your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, the way your cheeks are flushed with desire and frustration.

He runs a hand through his tousled hair, his expression apologetic as he meets your gaze. "Please, I need one more chance. I won't screw it up again, I swear."

You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. Scott wraps his arms around you once again, pulling you in close. He buries his face in your hair and inhales deeply, relishing in the feeling of having you so close.

"I won't walk away again," he murmurs, his voice tinged with emotion. "I promise, I'll stay, just give me a chance to prove it to you." You sigh while giving into him.

“Please don’t leave again..” your arms wrap around his waist loosely. Scott tightens his hold on you, pressing you even closer against him. His heart leaps in his chest at the sound of your voice, the raw vulnerability in your words.

"Never again," he murmurs, his lips pressing against the top of your head in a tender kiss. "I won't walk away from you. I promise."

You nod against him, body fully relaxing into his. Scott feels the moment you surrender to him, your body softening in his arms, and he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.

He cradles you against him, his hands roaming your back in soothing circles. "I’ve got you," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble against your hair. "I won’t let go."

You lean back, searching his eyes for any deception, seeing none you lean in for a gentle kiss.

Scott melts under your kiss, his body aching for the taste of your lips. He lets out a soft sigh as he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

He holds your body against his, his hands roaming over your back and hips, as if he can’t get enough of touching you.

Scott's eyes never leave yours as he takes your hand, leading you back to the motel. The air is thick with unspoken words and the weight of the unresolved tension between you. As you reach his room, he opens the door, his gaze intense and filled with determination.

He pulls you inside, the door clicking shut behind you, the final barrier between the tumultuous world and the passion that simmers just beneath the surface of your relationship. His arms wrap around you, pulling you tightly against his chest, his heart beating a staccato rhythm that echoes the thunderstorm in your own chest.

His lips find yours again, the kiss hungry and desperate, as if trying to devour the regret of the morning. His touch is gentle, yet firm, as he helps you shed the layers of your clothing, revealing the soft, welcoming warmth of your skin.

This time, there's no rush, no racing heartbeats to the crescendo. It's a slow dance of exploration, a silent promise that this isn't just a fleeting moment of passion but the beginning of something much more profound. Rain patters against the window, serenading your reunion, as Scott lays you on the bed, his body hovering over yours, his gaze never straying from your eyes.

With a groan, Scott rolls onto his back, pulling you along with him so that you're straddling his hips. His eyes are dark with need as he looks up at you, his hands moving to grip your waist, guiding you into position. You lean over him, your breasts brushing against his chest, the heat of your skin melding together as the storm outside reaches its peak.

He lifts his hips, his erection pressing against your wetness, and you bite your lip, the anticipation of feeling him fill you again making your stomach clench with desire. With a slow, deliberate move, you lower yourself onto him, sheathing him in your warmth. His eyes never leave yours as you start to move, your hips rising and falling in a rhythm that matches the steady beat of the rain on the window.

Each stroke sends waves of pleasure crashing through you, the intensity building with every movement. The power dynamic has shifted, and now you're in control, dictating the pace, the depth, the very essence of your connection. Scott's hands roam your body, exploring every curve and crevice.

His eyes glaze over with passion, his breath coming in ragged gasps as you bring him closer to the edge. You lean down, capturing his lips in a fiery kiss, the sound of the rain a constant backdrop to the symphony of your love-making. His hands tighten on your hips, urging you faster, deeper.

With a moan that's swallowed by his lips, your hips move faster, riding the wave of pleasure that Scott's skilled touch brings forth. Your eyes are locked on his, the intensity in them making you feel exposed, yet safe at the same time.

The sound of the rain is the only soundtrack to your passion as you move together, your bodies in perfect harmony. And then it hits you—the orgasm that's been building since the moment his lips first touched yours. It crashes over you like a tidal wave, stealing your breath and making your body convulse.

You cling to him, nails digging into his skin as you ride out the storm of sensation, your pussy squeezing tightly around his cock. Scott groans beneath you, the feeling of your climax pushing him closer to his own. His eyes never leave yours, the blue depths of them filled with a mix of passion and something more, something that makes your heart race even faster.

As your tremors begin to subside, you collapse onto him, your breaths mingling in the damp air, the rain outside a gentle lullaby to the aftermath of your love-making. And as you lie there, tangled in each other's arms, you know that you've found something that's just as powerful and unpredictable as the forces of nature you both chase—a love that's as wild and uncontrollable as the very storms themselves.

Scott gently slides out of you, turning you on your side so that you're facing away from him. He wraps his arms around you, his chest to your back, and pulls you close, his hand splaying over your stomach as he presses tender kisses to the sensitive skin of your neck.

His breath is hot against your ear as he whispers sweet nothings, his voice a comforting rumble that soothes the storm that had been raging inside of you. You sigh contentedly, feeling the tension in your body slowly uncoil as his warmth surrounds you, his heartbeat a steady metronome against your own. His hand moves in slow, lazy circles on your stomach, each caress a silent promise of the passion that still burns within him.

His erection is still firm against your backside, a testament to his desire, but he's in no rush to take you again. Instead, he holds you tightly, his legs entwined with yours, as if afraid that if he lets go, the moment will be lost forever. His touch is tender, almost reverent, as if he's worshiping every inch of your skin.

You snuggle closer, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the weight of his arm across your waist, a reassuring presence that grounds you amidst the chaos of your swirling emotions. The world outside seems so far away, so insignificant compared to the sanctuary you've found in each other's arms.

And as the last droplets of rain tap against the window, you drift off to sleep, lulled by the steady beat of Scott's heart and the gentle embrace of his arms, feeling more alive and connected than you ever have before.

You jolt awake, anxiety filling you as you notice the bed empty once again. You sit up in the bed, looking around the room with worry, before noticing Scott coming out of the bathroom.

Scott notices the panicked look on your face as he slips back into bed next to you. "Hey, relax," he says softly, his hand coming to rest on your back, rubbing gently in small circles. He pulls you in close against him, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you snugly against his chest. "I’m right here. I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."

You press your cheek to his chest as you cuddle closer, “You scared me…” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut as you bask in his body heat.

Scott tightens his arms around you, holding you close as he peppers your hair with soft kisses. "I’m sorry," he whispers, his voice filled with regret. "I didn’t mean to scare you." He can feel the tension in your body slowly melting away as you relax against him, and he rubs your back soothingly. "I’m here now. It’s okay."

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cuteandhughesy · 2 days ago

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No Sex In The Elevator | Matt Rempe

summary: tension between you and attractive stranger grows as you end up trapped together in an elevator

7.6k

a/n: loosely based off this request! @remperoni-melt and I got the same request, so to save you guys from reading really similar works, I switched the vibe of mine up a little bit 🤍 make sure you go check theirs out and give some love ! they are very talented and I definitely recommend their work! hope you enjoy my take on this request 😏

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you try your phone again, blinking roughly to clear your eyesight—still teetering on tipsy. the dead battery flashes back at you, illuminating your flushed skin in the dim elevator.

you sigh, shoving the small device back into your purse. as you'd been leaving your friends apartment—much later than you intended to by the way—you'd been practically falling asleep, the collection of sangria you'd been sipping on all night slowly catching up to you.

you knew heading over to your best friends place on a weeknight wasn't the best idea—especially when she enticed you over with dinner and a wine night. you worked the next day, and being hungover while trying to deal with customers at the bank was never a combination you wanted to endure, but against your better judgment, you were calling a taxi right outside after your shift, giving the driver directions to her place.

so now here you are, nearing 10 at night with a 6 a.m. shift on the horizon, pouting about your dead phone while being tipsy and alone in a fancy elevator—a fancy elevator for a building that only your new york lawyer best friend can afford.

you watch the numbers on the digital screen slowly tick down, bring you closer towards the apartment lobby. you sigh gently, running a hand through your blown out hair. your strands get caught around some of your rings, catching and pulling uncomfortably.

"fucks sake." you hiss, awkwardly trying to untangle your hair from around the metal jewelry.

the elevator comes to a gentle stop, and before you can even react, the shiny polished doors slide open. quickly, your eyes flicker towards the screen—have you reached the lobby already?

no, you've barley made it half way down, the shiny 27th floor staring back at you. you swallow gently—still very much caught in your own hair—eyes flickering towards the open elevator doors.

there's a guy there—a extremely tall, muscular, cute guy at that. he looks younger, maybe a few years younger than you, with a soft complexion and brown hair tucked underneath a baseball cap. he's dressed relatively comfortable in a branded gray hoodie, paired with light wash jeans and sneakers.

he sends you a quick nod in greeting, stepping into the roomy elevator. out of the corner of your eye, you watch him step towards the button panel underneath the digital screen, but after a moment, he steps back—he must also be heading to the lobby.

you swallow gently, your face heating up like it always tends to do in the presence of an attractive man—it doesn't help that your still caught in your own hair.

the doors slide closed, a gentle click echoing in the quiet space. despite the embarrassment crawling up your chest, your resume in trying to unwrap your hair, tiny breathless curses falling from your wine stained lips.

"you good over there?"

the question has you freezing, gaze flickering back towards the giant on your right. you're sure you look insane, and you're once styled hair has turned into a tangled wreck.

you blink. "i'm stuck."

"I can see that." he chuckles. "do you want help?"

"maybe"

he laughs again, a deep rumble that sends tingles down to your toes. he takes the few steps towards you, and you feel his fingers over top of yours, beginning to un wind your hair.

you let him take over, dropping your hand with a shaky sigh. you're only able to look into the soft material covering the strangers torso, trying your best to stay still has he manoeuvres your fingers.

"so," he starts, tone full of amusement—but yet concentration. "how'd this happen?"

you exhale deeply, letting your eyes flicker upwards towards his face—you're met with the underside of his soft jaw, littered in growing stubble. "I honestly don't even know."

"twirling your hair or something?" he pulls back just enough to look into your glossy coated eyes, a teasing grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

somehow his clear comfortably has you breaking out of your timid shell, and you scoff a gentle laughter. "is that what you think girls do?"

the stranger laughs. "maybe drunk ones. are you drunk?"

"are you?"

"I wish." he chuckles. he tugs on a particularly tight strand of hair woven through your ring, and you hiss gently, jerking your head back—which only pulls at your scalp worse. "fuck, m'sorry..."

the man trails off expectantly, waiting for you to fill in the blank.

you sigh gently, "y/n."

"matt." he hums. "i've almost got it. don't move."

you sigh, definitely a little impatiently, but you don't find yourself caring—your arm is completely numb and tired, and your fingers feel swollen and you're ready to crash in bed.

finally you feel the hair detangle, falling back against your head it what no doubt will be a matted mess. you breathe an exaggerated sigh, shaking out your tingling limb. "thanks."

matt steps back, allowing you to once again look at him properly. "welcome."

there's a loud shriek that breaks through the elevator, similar to metal grinding on metal. you look around quickly, brows pulled in confusion.

matt's face mimics yours, and he glances at the digital screen quickly—the 16th floor indicator displayed begins to glitch.

"what the hell?" you question.

the elevator shifts wildly, the noise increasing like it was coming to a screeching halt. it's almost deafening, and it's definitely concerning. you grab onto the handlebars lining the metal box, clutching until your knuckles feel tight.

the dim lightning in the elevator flickers wildly for a moment before shutting completely off. there's a second of darkness before the red emergency light turns on, casting the inside of the elevator in a rose coloured glow.

you’re frozen, looking around the space anxiously. you watch though hooded eyes as matt quickly walks towards the panel, frantically pressing the call button. it's no use though, and the only sound that comes out of the tiny speaker is a loud buzzing noise—echoing in your ears.

"fuck." he curses, trying again.

you clear your throat. "is anyone there?"

matt shoots a quick, irritated glance over his shoulder in your direction, pausing his hard attack on the call button. "does it sound like anybodies there?"

"okay, well I don't know! you live here, you should know what this all means?" you say quickly—a mixture of stress and fear running through you.

"what makes you think I live here?" he questions. it seems for now he's giving up on pushing the useless button, turning back towards you with a frustrated pull to his eyebrows.

you laugh in disbelief, raising you arm before letting it fall back against your side in defeat. "great—so we both don't live here."

matt runs a hand over his face, another curse passing through his lips.

you drop the the floor, much less than graceful, shuffling back until your leaning against the cold metal wall. you cross your leg over the other, your pencil skirt tightening over your thighs. "what do we do?"

matt looks down at you, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "we will have to wait."

you groan, "and what if they don't know we're stuck in here? I can't be here long—I work in the morning."

"you think I want to be in here?" a breathes in disbelief, eyeing you roughly. he watches your face fall, blinking heavily before turning your face away. matt sighs, guilt lacing his face. "look," he starts gently, "this is a nice place—i'm sure it won't be long before they realize something is wrong."

you sniffle, eyes flickering back towards matt. "don't have to be so mean about it."

he laughs. "you're so drunk."

you shoot him a deadpanned, anger fuelled look—does he think you don't know that?

matt's hands shoot up in defensive, a gentle chuckle passing through his lips. you watch from the corner of your eye as matt moves towards you before inevitably sliding down the wall, taking a seat next to you.

his legs stretch out, extremely long but somehow not gangly—if anything, they're extremely well defined, and you can see that even through his jeans. as his leg grazes yours, you all but blush, subconsciously clenching your thighs together—screw your drunk brain for always being horny.

to distract your thoughts and all the butterfly feelings going on in your underwear, you clear your throat, glancing towards matt. "I may be a little tipsy."

"knew it." he chimes. "could smell the wine."

"oh god." you huff, covering your mouth with the palm of your hand—comically wide eyes still in matt's direction. "is it bad?"

he laughs gently at the sound of your frantic, muffled question. matt's eyes twinkle through the red casted light, shaking his head gently. "no, it's fine. you smell nice."

you bring your hand away from your mouth slowly, eyes squinting pointedly as you take in his words. "are you always this...friendly with strangers you meet in elevators?"

"only the ones who get their hair caught in their rings."

at the mention of that whole fiasco only a few minutes ago, your hand instinctively reaches up, brushing over the now frizzy side of your hair. "don't remind me."

he gently pushes your hands away from your hair, a boyish grin on his face. "alright leave it alone before you get stuck again."

"hey!" you laugh, "as long as you're here, i'm free to get as stuck as I want."

matt's brows raise suggestively. "that sounds like the start of a really bad porno."

you feel your skin flush, and you're clenching your legs together again. you practically squeak like a mouse, eyes glazed over with amusement (and a little lust but you hope he doesn't catch that). "are you even old enough to watch porn?"

one of his brows raise humorously, looking back at you like you've grown three heads. "how old do you think I am?"

you stutter, embarrassed. "I don't know! like 20?"

the side of his mouth shoots up in a grin. "22."

you hum thoughtfully. "you're young."

"are you like secretly 65 or something?" matt questions lightly. "how old are you?"

"you're never supposed to ask a girl her age, matt." you're not that much older than matt, but you're finding a lot of amusement in this teasing, cat and mouse game you're currently in with the handsome stranger.

he grins, head rolling away from you and towards the closed elevator doors. there's a few moments that pass, nothing but the silent hum of the broken down elevator between you.

matt shuffles, his jeans crinkling. "I spy..."

you look at him questionably. "huh?"

"we're playing I spy."

"oh," your brows raise, amused. "are we?"

he nods, continuing. "I spy with my little eye something that is red."

"everything is red."

that game only last about two more minutes, because like you've already told matt—everything is casted in the red light glow.

so matt quickly suggests other games to pass the time, and you're quickly finding yourself in a game of 21 questions—like you're damn teenagers.

honestly for somebody as attractive as matt, he seems to actually be a decent human being. which from your college experience of partying and messing around with frat boys who look like him...isn't common.

you watch him hum thoughtfully, going over questions in his head before he just spews one out. he's switched spots now, sitting across from you against the closed doors. you'd warned him when he first leaned against it—what if they opened and he fell?

but he didn't seem bothered, telling you the worst that would happen is falling backwards into a random apartment hallway.

"okay," he starts, "what's the worst date you've ever been on?"

the answer comes easily, and you cross your arms over your white linen button up—your gray blazer not long abandoned. "when I was in college, this guys from my psych class asked me out, and I said yes. he was on the football team and he was cute enough...so what could go wrong."

"a football dude? yikes." matt hisses, shaking his head in displeasure.

"anyways, he picked me up in his buddies car and the date was a suprise—so I had no idea where we were going, so understandably I was nervous." you take a small breath, already shuttering at the memory. "the night before he asked me what my favourite food was, and I said sushi. so I should've known he was going to bring me to a seafood place." your expression shifts, "but he'd never had seafood before."

matt groans, already sensing something wrong with the expression on your face. "oh god, I already hate where this is going."

"turns out," you laugh in disbelief, "he's allergic."

"no."

"yes." you groan. "and the very first second we walked out of that restaurant, he threw up the entire contents of his consumed seafood boil all over me."

"holy shit," matthew laughs, "that's a way better answer than what I expected! what did you do?"

"I broke down and cried." you admitted embarrassingly, head dropping into your manicured hands. "I didn't even know what else to do!"

"i'm assuming no second date? or are you still with football dude?" matt's tone is almost hopefully, eyeing you with an underlying curiosity.

you don't catch it, and you only shake your head—mind still reeling about the awful sushi date from a few years ago. "definitely no second date and no boyfriend period."

"huh," matt hums. you watch something flicker across his face this time, but before you can question it, the expression changes. "alright, your turn. ask me something good—ask me something dirty."

"oh my god." you groan, a gentle roll of your eyes following. your reaction is one matt was hoping for, and his face lights up in amusement, a small flurry of laughter passing his lips.

you pause in thought, trying to come up with a decently good question. if you were stuck in an elevator with this guy, you at least want it to be entertaining. still lingering with the affects of the sangria in your bloodstream, a smirk grows on your face. if he wanted dirty, you'd give him the opportunity to act on that.

"what's your secret sexual fantasy?"

matt looks surprised, like he wasn't expecting that sort of level of question from you.

you're almost embarrassed by the bluntness of your words, and you feel warmth creeping up your chest and warming your ears. but you're not backing down now, eyeing matt expectantly from the other side of the elevator.

he takes his ball cap off, running his hand through his floppy hair before securing the hockey branded hat back on his head. "well when I was in high school-"

"-so yesterday?" you interrupt cheekily.

matt laughs once. "when I was in high school," he repeats lightly, "I used to have this fantasy about fucking a teacher."

"oh my god," you sigh knowingly. "ever guy I knew and their dad had the exact same fantasy—what is it about a teacher that makes you want to fuck her?"

he brings his knees up, resting his forearms on his bent legs, the man spreading position doing unspeakable things to your head. matt sighs lightly, "something about their demeanour, I suppose. the almost teasing personality combined with the hair and the tight skirts and button up shirts...gets me every time."

you gulp nervously. matt's just described the business attire cloaking your body to a tea—when he walked into this elevator and saw you did he immediately think about his past fantasies?

without nothing what to say to that response, you clear your throat gently. "your turn."

you think an hour has passed since the elevator came to a malfunctioning stop, and both you and matt have tried to call button three separate times since then—still nothing but that damn high-pitched buzzing. at this point you're considering prying open the elevator doors yourself.

you're hot, tired and somehow turned on? you really need to get out of here.

it doesn't help that matt has become extremely flirtatious, sending you teasing smiles and asking your dirty questions for the rest of your 21 questions game. plus, he's ditched his hoodie and his hat, leaving him in a tight fitting black shirt—he's so fit you're practically drooling.

you've switched your seating position since then, and you're now lying flat on your back, feet up against the wall of the elevator. the worn out carpet is pressing against your back through your shirt uncomfortably, and your pencil skirt has slipped dangerously low on your hips—but you don't even care, especially with the predicament you're currently in.

"I need to pee." you mumble, eyes closing as you concentrate on controlling your small bladder.

matt's back is pressed to the same wall beside your propped up legs, his bicep grazing your knee as he turns slightly to look at you. "are you joking?"

"i'm really not."

he sighs. "okay, well you're going to have to hold it."

your eyes shoot open, looking towards matt like a crazy person. "hold it?" you question wildly. "you're asking the girl who's been downing sangria all night to hold her pee?"

"well there's no bathroom in here." matt states the obvious, looking back at you just as crazily. "want me to cup my hands so you can pee in them?"

your gaze turned pointed. "are you being serious?"

"absolutely not." he laughs loudly, looking at you with amusement.

another hour passes, and that's low-balling—it feels like you've been in here for a whole night. when you asked matt to call someone—someone to come and help—he'd told you his phones been dead for hours, and your small sliver of hope dissipated.

at this point you're feeling irritated—because in a building this expensive and fancy, they seriously haven't figure out the logistics of their broken down elevator.

you've gotten tired of sitting, and decided you're going to stand. you're slumped against the wall, the handle bar digging into your ass uncomfortably. you ditched your kitten heels so long ago that the thought of having to eventually (hopefully) put them back on is literally taxing.

you're just glad you'd spontaneously painted your toenails yesterday after work—because the last thing you needed in the presence of an attractive man was chipped toe polish.

"truth or dare?" you question gently, looking down at matt with a bored expression. the entire evening it's been matt coming up with ridiculous games in order to pass the time, but this time it's you.

his head lulls back against the wall, brows raised. matt's still on the floor, his tree trunk sized legs stretched out—so long he's almost touching your feet. "i'm kind of curious what dare you'll come up with." he admits smugly, looking at you with a boyish smile.

"I dare you...." you trail off, desperately racking your mind for a subtle dare. you honestly hadn't thought that far ahead, and this style of game was very limited in an elevator—a spacious, lush elevator, but still. an idea pops into your head, and although it's not the most creative, it works. "I dare you to try and beat me in a staring contest."

matt laughs. "oh, you're so on." he shifts his body, pushing up with his palms so he's more ridged—displaying a perfect posture. his tongue slowly passes through his lips, licking onto his bottom lip to moisten the already plump surface.

you watch in what can only look like awe, standing across the elevator like a fool. you really need to get yourself under control.

his brows shoot up in question, eyeing you up and down. "are you going to come over here and play? or just stand there and check me out?"

you scoff lightly, blushing at the embarrassment of getting called out. "don't be so egotistical—it's not attractive." despite your words, you make your way towards him, bare feet padding against the carpeted floor until your toes brush against the material of his jeans.

you drop down beside his spread thighs, your knees digging into the hard floor. your skirt pulls at the tension across your legs, and your stomach unattractively spills over the band of your skirt— immediately you regret your choice of position.

matt watches the entire thing, eyes hazy with a subtle smirk beginning to ghost across his lips. "so i'm attractive to begin with?"

your eyes flicker towards his and away from your skintight skirt. the way he's looking at you—drinking you in—has you feeling hot and bothered. what have you gotten yourself into here? you bite your lip gently, yet nervously, a gentle breath of laughter sneaking out. "i'm trying to have a staring contest here, matt. if you want to talk about looks, i'll just assume you're forfeiting."

"I don't forfeit." he mutters smugly, further turning his torso so he's facing your direction—well, as well as he can manage while sitting down.

"ah," you chime, "a competitor."

"a winner." matt corrects gently, "I always get what I want."

there's an underlying meaning with his words, one that has your belly spinning and toes curling. you gulp roughly, doing your best to keep holding onto the strong eye contact—the damn staring content hasn't even started yet and you're already faltering.

"we'll see about that." you don't mean to whisper, but you do, and that has matt's teasing grin widening. you clear your throat, blinking a few times. "alright, ready?"

"always." he nods. you don't see the way he watches your sporadic blinking with a soft expression, eyes littered with amusement and admiration as you ‘prepare’. "you gunna count us in?" matt asks.

"sure." you hum. your eyes flutter closed as you begin counting down from 3. your words are slow—deliberate—pacing yourself and taking the short amount of time to try and collect your erratic heart and scattered thoughts.

as you hit one, your eyes snap open, meeting the chocolate ones of matt. the silence is almost deafening, bouncing off the red tinted metal interior of the elevator around your still bodies.

you can practically see matt's smirk through his eyes—the way they slightly crinkle at the side giving him away. you squint pointedly, "what?"

"you're just really focused." he mutters quietly.

"I want to win." you admit, just as hushed.

"that's cute." he licks his lip. "but you won't."

you scoff out a laugh, your eyes beginning to burn around the edges, drying out. "cocky?"

"confident."

you snicker. "I think you're all talk." you're playing with fire here, you're well aware of that—but you need him to crack. your eyes are becoming drier by the second, and you won't be able to hold your blinks back for much longer. "i think you're secretly dying right now."

"nah," his tone is teasing. "but I can see the tears in your eyes, y/n. I know you want to blink."

"don't be fooled," you chime. in a moment of boldness, you shift forward, drawing your face closer to matt's—without blinking or breaking contact. "they’re tears of victory."

"tears of victory already?" matt questions playfully. he's not backing down, and from the suggestive tone lacing his words, you should've suspected the sensual turn of his next words. "but I haven't even touched you yet."

you blink in shock, flushing all over as matt cheers.

"damn it." you curse, wiping the tears pooling under your damp lashes. "that's not fair. you used words to trick me into blinking." you pull back, eyeing matt with humoured disbelief.

"It's so fair! you chose to get all flustered by that, all I did was say it." he reminds you cheekily, looking anything but innocent. matt bites down onto his bottom lip seductively, eyes lingering over your tight skirt and shirt like an animal. his gaze flickers back towards your face, and his playful expression increases.

you don't say anything—mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as you digest his words and deal with his hungry stare.

"so am I getting a chance to ask you now? or are you too flustered to continue?"

you really wish you didn't wear your emotions so easily on your face—because it makes things like this even more difficult to hide—and clearly matt has picked up on that.

you splutter momentary, a jumbled string of words leaving your lips in a stutter. eventually you collect yourself, muttering with a pointed expression. "just...go."

matt's smirk is almost infuriating, and the way he tongues his cheek to try and contain it, even more so. he ponders for only a moment, lips pursing in thought. a beat passes, "what's the sexiest thing a guy can say or do that always works on you?" matt questions. "like what's your biggest turn on—sexual or not."

your brow quirks up in amusement. "you know with all these sex related questions i'm beginning to think you're younger than you told me."

he laughs. "don't pretend like you're not enjoying this. I can tell by your eyes."

"oh, so you know my eyes do you?"

"I know more than you think." he tells you firmly—his eyes daring as if he's tempting you to challenge him. "answer the question, y/n. god, we don't have all night." matt teases you in a playful manner, knee shifting to the side and bumping against your bent one.

"on the contrary—I think we do have all night." he shoots you a deadpanned look, and you sigh gently. "okay, let me think."

you've had two boyfriends in your life—which isn't that unheard of or shocking. your first boyfriend was in high school, and you'd only started dating because your friends thought he was a cutie and said you'd be cute together. which looking back now, was not a reason to date someone. he was very sweet, but honestly he was too sweet, and kind of a push over. you felt like you had to be in charge of everything—it made you feel like someone you're not.

your second boyfriend was in college, and you dated for a few months before breaking it off. contrary to your high school boyfriend, this guy was the complete opposite of sweet. he was never that kind towards you, and he was overly protective. he claimed he was really manly—but was actually just an asshole who wants you to act like his mommy.

with those experiences, you grew to know what you're looking for in a man, especially when it comes to their personality, how they carry themselves and how they make you feel.

"someone who has goals." you start, "if they have aspirations and aren't shy about pursuing them I think that's really hot."

you continue. "also a man that makes me feel confident. like, a manly guy who's not afraid to praise me and love me—and show me off. that's super attractive."

matt looks at you then—really looks at you. his eyebrows pull together slightly, creating a tiny divet in the middle of his forehead. "has nobody ever treated you right or something? because that's the kind of shit that should be bare minimum."

you blink—you've never thought of it that way. but yeah, matt's right. that should be a bare minimum, because if you're boyfriends not treating you like he loves you or honestly, loves himself—he's not doing it right.

you shrug. "shitty boyfriends."

matt hums once, and his soft gaze doesn't leave yours—drinking you in like he's a starved man in desperate need of your water.

you're flushing again, but that's not a surprise—tingling all over like your nerves have gone completely off the rails. you gulp, "guess it's my turn."

"guess so." he smirks.

this time, you don't have to think of something, and your question comes quickly. "what was your first impression of me?"

"first impression?" matt parrots, to which you nod once, a low hum rumbling through you. "do you want me to be honest?"

you exhale shakily, core practically fluttering. "yes." you're practically sober now, so you're surprised at yourself for being so forward—seductive tones and suggestive words are not in your sober catalogue.

"I thought you were beautiful." he admits, unashamed. "the kind of beautiful that just alludes sexy—like you're smart and you know what you want."

"yeah?" you whisper.

"mhm." matt practically moans, licking onto his bottom lip. "and I could smell your perfume. it was like walking into a cloud of fresh flowers—enticing and intoxicating."

"and your hands." he continues, eyes fluttering briefly as he recalls a few hours back when he'd helped your untangle your hair. "they're so soft and so small...I couldn't help but picture them on my body, running over my skin."

you whine quietly. "matt."

the energy between you has completely shifted, and the tip toeing around you've been participating in all night has completely changed. it's raw now—it's a primal need that you've become completely enveloped in.

matt seems to have given up on the actual asking part of the game—looking at you through the red light swallowing the interior of the elevator and casting a rose glow over your skin. "I dare you to come here."

the gulp you emit practically echoes through the tension filled space, making the situation feel even more intense—more real.

with another nervous but excited swallow, you move. you push up onto your knee caps, your skirt immediately loosening around your thighs—your blood comes rushing back, and your legs immediately thank you. your eyes flicker to his, the smallest bit of hesitation in them.

you give him the opportunity to end this—tell you he's just fooling around. but as matt looks at you—nothing but pure want in his gaze—you move forward, throwing your leg over the expanse of matt's thighs.

automatically your skirt begins shifting higher up your body, and as you sink down to sit on matt's lap, the material almost completely rises, exposing the bottom of your ass, decorated in lace trim lining your panties.

matt exhales breathily, large palms gently sliding up the tops of your thighs—feeling and drinking in your soft skin. "shit," he curses so quietly and rushed, if you weren't sitting on his lap you probably wouldn't of heard it.

but you did hear it—and your core clenched around nothing. you've never been this turned on in your life—and the sangria isn't even an excuse anymore.

"how badly do you want to kiss me?" you ask matt, playing into the childish game of truth or dare that started this whole conversation. your hands—slightly shaky—run over matt's hard chest, feeling the ripple of muscle under your palms as your drag upwards.

you run over his collarbones and watch his adam's apple bob harshly, no doubt getting lost in the feeling of your hands—the hands he's been fantasizing about since he walked onto the elevator.

you push your hips down ever so slightly, feeling the semi-hard budge pushing against the seam of matt's jeans.

your eyes flicker back towards his face, looking into his glossed over eyes. matt's pupils dilate, and he looks anything but nervous. "I think you can feel just how bad."

he shifts, pressing his bulge into your covered core—bumping against your already sensitive clit. matt is growing harder—needier—by the second, and he's not sure how much longer he'll be able to contain himself.

you look so pretty on him, your mouth falling open in a daze like way—staggered breaths passing through your rosy lips. "please." you whine, face inching closer to his.

that's the only signal matt needs from you, closing the little distance between you and connecting your lips in a passionate kiss.

it's instantly taking your breath away, matt leading you in an exchange that is leaving you nothing short of lightheaded. his calloused hands move further up your thighs, following the natural direction around the backside of your hips, finding your ass. he pushes the gray material of your skirt further up and away from your hips, exposing your ass to the interior walls of the broken down elevator completely.

his fingers need the flesh expertly, pushing and pulling you against his jean covered bulge like his life depended on it.

matt continues his kiss on your mouth, suckling on your bottom lip, pulling it away from you before letting it go with a pop.

you can practically feel the arousal pooling in your underwear, and you huff pleasantly, leaning back in to capture matt's lips in a rough kiss. your mouths are slick with shared salvia, sliding over each others like you've don't it a million times before.

the slick sounds are intoxicating—turning you both on further. reluctantly, matt pulls back, away from your pursed, leaving just enough space for him to speak. "I dare you to let me fuck you." his swollen lips brush over yours as he says it, adding to the erotica of it all.

before you can logically think, your nodding, a breathy yes falling from your wet lips.

he smirks, sloped nose nudging against yours as he leans back in, catching your lips once again. you're already moaning into it, allowing matt to continue dragging your weeping core over his crotch. it's been so long since you've been handled the way matt is handling you right now—actually, you don't think you've ever been handled this way.

you're already a smaller person, but in matt's lap you're practically non-existent. he moves you easily and perfectly, muscles shifting and tightening in a way that under your finger tips, feels drool worthy.

you lift your hips slightly, and matt lets you—curious and too turned on to deny you. pulling away from his mouth, you let your warm forehead rest against his, and your eyes flicker down towards his hips—towards his dick.

the bulge is painfully hard, straining against his zipper. you let your one hand fall from his shoulder, shooting down to his jeans with shaky fingers. "wanna see you." you mumble, tugging open the metal button.

matt breathes a laugh, watching with lazy eyes as your nimble fingers tug at his zipper—roughly and quickly pulling it down to reveal his straining boxer briefs.

you bring your faces back together, bumping your noses as you interlock your lips again. while the kiss continues, you find your hand creeping under the elastic waist band of matt's underwear, moving through the space until you're grazing his most sensitive area.

he grunts against your lips, a curse whispered into your mouth. you smirk into it, hand wrapping around matt's fully hard dick. it's big—deliciously so, and your fingers barley brush as you fist him.

he pulls back. "holy fuck."

you bite the swollen skin of your bottom lip, eyes flickering over matt's blissed out expression as you continue pumping his dick—slowly but deliberately. "feel good?"

matt hums. "better than good."

you run your thumb over his oozing tip, spreading the streak of pre-cum over the surface. your thumb slides back into place, and you continue to pump him. he's growing hotter and heavier in your grip—he's close.

suddenly, his grip on your hips tightens, and he sits up straighter. matt holds you against him, and your hand slips of his dick at the fluid change in motion. gently, he lies you down, your back against the carpet once again tonight. your skirt is bunched around your torso, exposing your underwear completely.

but you're not even bothered by that—you're further turned on by it if anything. you reach towards matt's chest as he hovers over you, pawing at his shirt in a silent request.

thankfully, matt gets it, and a smirk pulls at his lips. he sit up on his knees before gripping the edge of his top, pulling it off in one swift motion.

your eyes glaze over as you watch his skin become exposed, muscles moving under his smooth skin—the red glow making the hard surface look more defined. he catches your stare, "see something you like?"

you take ahold of your lip between your teeth briefly. "see something I need." you correct seductively, eyes following matt as he crawls back over you.

your legs spread apart wider subconsciously, further inviting matt into your space.

"what else do you need?" matt whispers, fingers pushing your tangled hair off your flushed face. his hand trails off your face, down your neck and over your hallowed collarbone. you're too flustered to answer him, but your body reacts regardless—hips jerking up until your core bumps against his.

matt's hand finally finds your underwear, and he slowly drags two fingers over your slit. you're already worked up, the combination of matt's steady pressure and the material adding extra stimulation against you, has you moaning out. "please." you whimper.

"please what?" he smirks cheekily, still continuing the movements over your wet core.

if you weren't so turned on, you would've rolled your eyes. but, you're too horny to bite back. "please touch me."

"that's it." he praises quietly. matt hooks two fingers around the lace waistband of your underwear, swiftly pulling the material off you. you can feel your sticky arousal trail from your pussy to your underwear, the gooey substance stringy as your underwear leaves your body. matt practically finishes at the sight, "fuck, you're already soaking wet for me."

your underwear get tossed in one of the corners of the elevator, and you can't even process how disgusting that will be to deal with when this is all over—you don't care. "can't help myself." you mumble, "you've been working me up all night."

matt's eyes twinkle. "I know." before you have a chance to say anything about that remark, matt fingers circle your dripping entrance slowly, teasing you with his calloused pads. he doesn't make you wait very long before he slips into your hole, spreading you with his fingers.

your mouth falls open, eyes darting down to watch. he adjusts his positioning so that his palm bumps against your clit, continuing to thrust his fingers in and out of your pussy. "that feels so good." you mewl.

"yeah?" matt questions, a hint of teasing in his voice. "and what if I do this?" he changes his rhythm, and instead of the thrusting motion he'd been previously doing, he curls his fingers deeper, rubbing his palm over your bundle of nerves—hitting all your weak spots.

the wet sound is like music to his ears, and he can feel your juices gushing, leaking down his fingers and dripping onto the carpet.

you curse breathily, eyes fluttering closed as your head falls back—too weak to hold it up any longer. "i'm gunna cum."

your words have matt abruptly pulling his fingers out of your entrance, leaving you whining, shocked and your walls fluttering around nothing. your eyes shoot open, mouth falling in disbelief. "whyyyyyyy?"

"hey." he laughs in amusement. "relax." matt pushes his jeans down further, reaching just under his balls. his hand, still slick with your juices, reaches into his underwear, pulling out his dick.

he squeezes himself, a fluttering groan bubbling from his chest at the delicious pressure.

your irritation and remarks die on your tongue at the sight. his cock is just as big as it felt, thick with two prominent veins running up the underside—his tip an angry pink and leaking.

you can feel yourself dripping—at this point your practically a faucet. matt fists himself a couple times, lining his tip with your fluttering hole. "is this okay?" he questions heavily, eyes finding yours again.

you bite your lip, an attempt at containing your ridiculously wide grin. "more than." you nod your approval, and matt smiles at that, mirroring your expression.

but as he pushes his hard length into you, your smiles falter, pleasure laced moans and whimpers mixing between your bodies. he stretches you out perfectly, your walls hugging his slightly curved dick like your life depended on it.

"god, you feel so fucking good." matt huffs once he's fully sheathed inside your gooey pussy. his pelvis brushes against your clit, and a shock goes through you

matt uses his free hand to push your leg against your chest, creating a more open angle which has him sliding in even further. "you're so deep." you whine, clenching over him. "please move, holy fuck."

matt groans at your request, but doesn't have to be told twice as he begins to pull out of you before thrusting his length back in. his pace quickly turns fast, rutting into you so perfectly and hitting all the spots you need him to.

you're a moaning, sloppy mess, withering under matt like you don't know how to act—you don't know how to act when you're getting fucked this good.

matt reaches towards your shirt, and in one quick movement he pops the buttons open, revealing your animal print bra. he doesn't waste a second before pulling down the cups roughly, revealing your puffy nipples. "you're so beautiful—fuck me."

he grabs onto your boob, squeezing the fleshy mound like his life depended on it. the stimulation is heavenly, and you're whimpering like a baby. "i'm close." you admit.

matt picks up his pace, pounding into your hole quicker and deeper than before. you’re practically scream, nails digging into matt's torso as your ground yourself. you feel like you're being bent in half—in the best way possible. his pelvis is smacking against your clit perfectly, and tugging into your hole expertly. "that's it, fuck, such a good girl."

he pinches your nipple once more before his hand comes up towards the side of your face. matt holds your cheek softly, leaning down to connect your lips in a munch needed kiss.

you kiss him back with just as much passion he's giving you, letting your mouths exchange dominant passes over one another. when matt hits your sentive spot with the tip of his dick, you pull away, struggling to stay focused on anything but his movements inside you.

"i'm cumming." you whimper, brows pulling together as you focus on the feeling of coming undone. "don't stop—oh my god, don't stop."

"come on baby." matt huffs, kissing your neck quickly. "let go for me."

and you do. your entire body tightens as your walls clamp down on him—like your pussy was trying to suck him in. your orgasm washes over your skin, making you feel light and tingly, and your body goes limp—a pornographic moan falling from your lips.

matt slows ever so slightly, letting you ride out your high on his throbbing cock. matt releases his hold on your leg, letting it fall back into its original spread position. "yeah...you're so good y/n."

you whine, eyes fluttering open to watch matt's dick continuing to slide in and out of your spent entrance. his pace begins to pick up again—close to his release. "where you want me to cum?"

you sigh pleasantly. "on 'm belly."

"yeah?" he questions, already beginning lifting your skirt to properly expose your lower tummy pudge. "right here?"

"mhmm." you moan. "so hot, matt."

matt's thrusts become sporadic, and his rhythm has gone out the window as he chases his own orgasm. and with three more pumps into your seeping hole before he fully pulls out, fisting his cock as his seed spurts over your stomach.

"fuck." matt splutters, pumping out the last few drops of cum. the hot and sticky liquid drips onto your stomach, adding to the already covered skin.

you breath a mixture of laughter and a moan, watching the mess pool on your body. "that's really hot."

matt meets your eyes, breathless as he grins. "you're really hot."

you giggle, covering your hot face with the palms of your hands.

"don't go shy on me now." matt laughs, gently tugging your hands away. you look like a hot mess—beat red even under the glow of the emergency light, with mascara smudged under your eyes and lips swollen—matt's never seen anything sexier.

you look at him timidly, but matt's grin doesn't waiver, leaning back into your space. "give me a kiss."

and you do, leaning up and pressing your lips to his in another kiss. this one is softer, more relaxed—but still laced with passion and need.

the loud buzz of the speaker has you pulling apart, surprising you both. a grainy voice begins to speak, "is anybody in this elevator?"

you and matt turn to look at one another, eyes wide. "fuck."

you can't help but laugh as matt scrambles off your body, half naked as he presses the call button, answering the lady on the other end.

and as you lay there, with the man who only a few hours ago was a stranger, sneaking a glance at you over his shoulder, you can't help be feel overjoyed for getting stuck in an elevator. and although you don’t really know that much about him other than his name and what he looks like naked—you can’t wait to learn.

#🤍⊹˚₊ cute and hughesy fic #matt rempe smut #matt rempe x reader #matt rempe fanfic #matt rempe fic #matt rempe imagine #matt rempe #nhl smut #nhl fanfic #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #hockey x reader #hockey imagine #hockey smut

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angelpuns · 2 months ago

Text

“ GET BACK!” Leo gripped his katanas tightly, backing into the corner. The lumbering, spiky creature before him grimaced, holding his claws out like Leo was some sort of spoiler animal.

“ Leo, hey, what's goin' on, buddy?” The creature asked, voice softer than expected. It made Leo hesitant, if only for a second.

But it must have been a ploy. A trick to trap him and-and do god knows what!

“ I'M NOT YOUR BUDDY,” Leo hissed, keeping his eyes open for any movement from the hulking creature. If there was an opening, he'd have to take it, otherwise he'd have to portal away. It didn't feel right to leave this creature in his room, though, so that would be a last resort, “TELL ME WHO- WHAT YOU ARE! NOW!”

The creature blinked in mock surprise and took a step back. Good. Maybe Leo could stun it and then go out the back way to his room. It wasn't a great plan, but it was all he had right now. Hell, maybe he could scare the thing all the way out the door and fight it in the lobby. Sure, it was a lot bigger than him, but he had two swords and it has nothing.

“Wh- it's me! It's Raph!” The creature raised its voice a little, then immediately softened it again, “it’s- you're safe, Leo, its just me. You're in the lair. We're all safe…”

It was holding its hands out again and took two steps forward. Leo backed further into the corner and cursed under his breath. This was the opposite of what he wanted.

“HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME!? WHY ARE YOU IN MY ROOM!?” He bit out, cycling through several more half-baked plans where he didn't have to portal and didn't mess up his room. He didn't want to leave this guy here to mess it up either if he could.

“ We're- we're brothers, remember? We explained it yesterday…. You were cursed by a witch and-”

Leo scoffed, “ that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! You've got 3 seconds to leave before I cut you to pieces!”

He’d always been more of a playful banter guy than a ‘threaten to literally kill you’ guy, but this was dire. There was literally a random, dangerous looking creature-guy in his home. He wasn't gonna rake any chances to be funny, not right now.

“Okay, okay. Let's just calm down, Leo….I really need you to take a deep breath and-and uh…name five things you see?” the guy - Raph, he'd said - was speaking even quieter, and getting even closer.

He took another step forward and Leo couldn't think- there was nowhere to run, he was trapped.

The creature reached forward slowly, mimicking slow breathing and Leo lashed out with his sword, barely nicking the guy’s arm with it. He either had tough scales or Leo was still too far to do any damage.

He hissed in pain, and Leo saw a bit of red there, but he couldn't wait to find out if he'd finally pissed this guy off.

He cut a portal beneath him and fell into it, heartbeat pounding his ears and electricity thrumming through his body. He heard a cut off “ LEO, WAIT-” before the portal closed and all he heard was the sounds if the city below him.

When he landed he was on a rooftop, somewhere far from his room and far from the creature. The sun was peeking above the horizon, a sudden chill making him shiver. Of course he couldn't have thought to put on a hoodie. Then again, he had been unexpectedly ambushed.

At least he'd gotten away without a scrape.

And not a moment too soon, because for a split second he'd seen two more guys in his doorway, each with shocked and then angry expressions. If he'd stayed even a second he'd be a goner, he just knew it.

For now, he was safe. Now to think of a plan.

----

Here's a blurb of that idea! I've written a chapter outline but writing has been hard lately, so I'm just gonna keep it in my docs for now. It might become a fic and it might become a comic, who knows. For now thus is what I've got. I just really wanted to write this bit :)

Part 1 | Part 3

#rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt leo #rottmnt fanfic #rottmnt comic #rottmnt au #au

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ode2rin · 11 months ago

Text

SAY YES TO ME ~ ❀ ·˚

𓆩♡𓆪 in which: your husband, reo, just knows exactly how to make you say yes.

For the first time in his life, Reo had never been happier to be the CEO of his company.

He couldn't recall feeling as alive even when he first inherited the position. While he appreciated the benefits and authority, nothing compared to the freedom of controlling his own time.

As soon as the clock struck 12 pm, Reo sprang to his feet, driven by a sense of purpose akin to a man on a mission. His determined strides echoed against the perfectly marbled tiles of his office floor as he made his way to the elevator. It was five hours earlier than his usual clock-out time, but today was an exception.

Because today was Valentine’s Day— and he had better plans than sitting around skimming through papers that hardly made any sense anymore because his mind was already consumed with thoughts of you, as if he didn’t spend most of his time doing exactly that anyway.

Before finally leaving his office floor, Reo made a beeline for his secretary’s desk to ensure the finishing touches were being made according to his instructions.

“Everything must be ready before we arrive,” he declared to his secretary, his tone more of a command than a request. This was serious business, after all. In fact, none of the investor deals he signed earlier this day would measure up to the importance of this one task at hand.

“Yes, sir,” his secretary replied cautiously.

Satisfied, he stepped into the elevator. His eagerness to see you was so evident— anyone can tell. He wasn’t hiding it, not even trying one bit to do so. From the way he pressed the lobby button twice, checked his watch incessantly for the past few hours, and tapped his wingtip against the elevator floor as if its speed could hasten his journey home— everyone can tell that his very own company building was the last place on earth he wanted to be.

Well, he supposed anyone with someone precious waiting for them at home would understand his seemingly pathetic behavior.

Pathetic, lovesick, whipped— you’ve reduced him to every synonym for such.

Not that it concerns him; what's more concerning is that he's not bothered by any perception tied to it. If he hadn't outgrown that teenage angst and was still chasing bits to fuel his ego, then it would have been a different story. He would have been hypersensitive to what bystanders thought of him. Now, older and wiser, he couldn’t care less about what they meant to prying eyes or big tabloids. None of their opinions were yours, so none of them mattered.

The journey back home was tenfold more insufferable than the time spent in the elevator. He kept his eye on his chauffeur in the rear-view mirror, and if he squinted enough, he could see the beads of nervous sweat forming at the poor man’s temple. He sighed to himself, seemingly reprimanding his own improper behavior. Hell, what was happening to him? He wasn't even an impatient man to begin with. All because of Valentine’s Day—all because he couldn’t wait to see you.

He got it real bad, as his longtime best friend would like to say. One he couldn't find it in himself to deny. It was true, anyway.

He didn't know when or where it started, but one random night four years ago, he woke up in a cold sweat, and the realization that he was hell deep in love with you gnawed on his center to his throat. So in love it set his heart on fire, all while being in love with the one person who lit the match.

Rumors were true— love never aligned with logic, intricate planning, none of what he excelled at as a businessman. And so, he abandoned logic and acted exactly as his heart had been urging him to.

The very moment the sun peeked over the horizon that fateful day, he was on his feet, his jet waiting to fly him to wherever the finest diamond engagement rings reside.

It was the best decision he had ever made in his life because if he hadn’t, then he wouldn’t be standing at the entrance of your shared home, his grin widening with each approaching step he hears. You’re bustling around the house just to welcome him home—so, no, he couldn’t have it any other way. The mere thought of doing things differently made his heart leap into his throat, while a hollow feeling settled in his chest.

“Love! Welcome home!” you greet him, your lively voice warming Reo’s heart as it makes its way to him.

Even before you could throw your arms around his shoulders and kiss him senselessly to welcome him home, you're met with a bundle of red roses he had taken from his back.

“You shouldn’t have bothered,” you blushed, resembling the vibrant flowers he bought on the way home.

“Nothing is ever a bother when it comes to you,” he mused, big amethyst eyes sparkling back at you.

Ever the sweet talker, you looked at your husband who was now peering over you and the roses you’re cradling.

“Okay, Mr. Charming. To what occasion do I owe this?” you play pretend, your voice tinged with playful curiosity.

Instead of an immediate response, you felt his hands traveling to the small of your back, pulling you close against his embrace. His lips grazed your cheek, before whispering in your ear, “Be my Valentine?”

Here he goes again, you thought. “I’ve been married to you for the last four years, if I remember correctly,” you pointed out to him, keeping your smile to yourself.

That’s not a yes. Huffing, Reo pulled back from your hug to look you in the eye, “Your point being? There are no rules in marriage that say I can no longer ask you on Valentine’s day– if I remember correctly,” and he even had the pettiness to mock your tone.

“Wow, my husband is a bit sassy today, isn’t he?”

My husband, he repeats in his mind, and just like that, all sassiness and pettiness came flying straight out of the window. “I love being your husband,” he blurted out, totally unrelated to your previous banter.

“Oh, really, now?” you teased, feigning the warmth it sent to your chest.

He does, truly and definitely. A man like him is widely known for what he has– for the possessions under his name and for the power it holds. Yet here he was, wrapped around your arms, and suddenly, being your husband has been the best he has been called and known for.

There was no weight, no expectations, and no pressure tied to it— just love dripping in every letter. There’s no one he would rather be.

“Yeah, am I doing a great job?” smiling at you, he asks, “I’m not losing the charms, am I?”

“Trust me, you’re very much good at it,” you fondly brushed the strands of hair covering his eyes, “and you’re not losing the charms,” you quoted.

“Really? So if I were to ask again, would you say yes?”

“With or without your ‘charms’, you know exactly how to make me say yes.”

Reo let out a hearty laugh at your remark. “You’re right,” his fingers reached out to your left ring finger, where his oath of forever lay glimmering.

God— he really did that. He put a ring on it. It was his name next to yours, his rings on your hand, his bed you share, and his forever you spend with. Four years and more to come, but Reo was certain he would never get over it.

Before his rationality left him and wrecked his own plans, Reo caressed your back, his hands moving dangerously low down your hip and giving it a squeeze, “Still wanna hear it from you though,” he mumbled softly against your lips, “So, what do you say in letting this poor man take you on a date as his valentine?”

You drew closer to his hold, your arms finding their place around his neck, hands occupied with the flowers now resting on his back, “I say,” you pressed your lips as if trying to think, “I’d like some kiss and maybe hear a please first—”

You couldn’t even finish teasing him because in a heartbeat, Reo closed the distance, seizing your lips in a fierce, hungry kiss drowning out the sound of words with an intensity that left no room for second guessing his invitation. Nothing about Mikage Reo was silent and subtle– not even when he kissed you. It had to be breathless, deep, urgent, and parting your lips in surrender.

His hands found their way, trailing with purpose along your spine, while his other traced the curve of your jaw with a feather-light touch. Teasing fingers then tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, desperate for more.

He pulled back first, leaving you light-headed. He flashed you one smirk, lips almost melting into yours.

“Please?”

Fuck. You didn’t need to be asked thrice. You nodded your head aimlessly, earning a chuckle from him. “Go then, pack some clothes. Our jet is waiting for us.”

“Jet? Did you mean car?” Where the hell was he taking you to use a jet for?

Seemingly reading the question on your face, he answered, “I know what I said, love. We’re going to Paris.”

“What?!” you exclaimed, squirming from his hold completely, “We could just dine somewhere close, Reo.”

Now, who told you he only had dinner in mind? Who did you take him for? You shouldn’t be surprised anymore— there’s nothing in this world that would come close to the satisfaction he got from spending lavishly on you. It was a reminder that he could and most certainly would give you everything you wanted. “You don’t like Paris?”

You tried to reason, heavy on the try so it seemed because you soon realized it was a mistake clarifying your point, “I mean, I do but—”

“I think I heard enough, love,” a sheepish smile formed on his lips, “I’ll wait for you here, alright?”

You rolled your eyes at him before retreating to your shared bedroom to prepare for freaking Paris. Of course, you're going. There’s really no winning against him, you’ve known that ever since. He longed to prove to you that he always had the irresistible charm of making you say yes.

Not that you'd ever thought of saying no. The ring weighing your finger down could attest to that.

note. been seeing people saying their partners no longer ask them valentines bec they're tgt alr... reo would never do that btw do better

another note (pls tolerate me). i'm pretty sure i'm fighting for my life when this gets posted (it's qd!!) so here's me wishing all of you a happy hearts day 🩷

#💌 valentine's special '24 #mikage reo #reo mikage #mikage reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #mikage reo fluff #mikage reo x y/n #blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff

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rapturously · 1 year ago

Note

Dwayne or David facesitting. Period. Like, vampires don't need to breathe! Hell, let em stay down there for hours. Also, am I too gross or crazy to think about having fun during that time of the month? 🩸

blood moon.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. | dwayne (the lost boys) x fem!reader

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓. | drabble — requested.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. | 3.7K.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. | SMUT (mdni), dubious consent (mild coercion) cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), reader is on their period, bloodplay (lots of it, he’s a vampire), facesitting, biting, hair-pulling, pet names (mama, girl, sweet girl), dwayne is hungry and he’s nasty, kissing, vampire antics, possessive dwayne, Dwayne is a little selfish in this

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. | wow ,,, a fic three days in a row ??? you can tell I’m hyperfixated because I’ll produce a ton of content very rapidly. Also, I love dwayne so much, he’s my daddy. ALSO — please keep sending me horny requests for the lost boys, I’m being fed !!! also, hello to all of my new followers & tlb fellows :)) love y’all and hope you enjoy!

A blood moon — it was a humorous term that your mother used to use for your menstrual cycle, something that you’d grown to despise with every fiber of your being. It was another unfortunate shackle of humanity, a reminder that you were still flesh and blood. Whenever your time of the month came about, you were always tempted to beg David for a sip of that forbidden wine.

The oppressive heat of the cavernous labyrinth that the boys dwelled within had felt somewhat comforting to you as you curled up on Dwayne’s makeshift bed, form contorted into the fetal position. A slow, agonizing pain spread throughout your lower abdomen, making your muscles feel weak and useless.

Sunset was just upon the horizon as you struggled to endure the suffering that you were forced into with each passing month. The mattress felt cool and smooth underneath your cheek, having abandoned the scattered pillows in favor of awaiting your demise. You wanted to sob, biting at the inside of your cheek, teeth scraping against flesh as your fists balled into the blanket.

Everything hurt — what began as a dull ache soon manifested into a pain that gripped your entire body. Your back was sore, head throbbing, and your insides felt as if they were being stirred around by the hand of another. You clenched your teeth, not wanting to move from your spot, anchored to your slice of space.

Once dusk fell, the vampires you’d been living with came to life, no longer hanging from the rafters of some dark, damp alcove. You could heat Marko and Paul’s guffaws and laughter, accompanied by David’s stern, tempered remarks. It all served as idle background noise, prompting you to close your eyes.

The noise dissipated — it was too quick for your liking. Silence settled in, save for the faint rustling of ambience within the cave, combined with something rattling around out in the remnants of the old lobby.

As much as you didn’t want to move, you sluggishly rolled out of bed, discomforted by the sensation of sloshing liquid rushing between your legs. It was the worst part of your cycle — the unpleasant sensations, the feeling of being wholly unclean. You draped a blanket around you, hobbling from Dwayne’s roost.

Strong, veined hands were buried within the grease-laden guts of a motorcycle, dismantling a variety of components. The vehicle was partially dismantled, stripped down to the metal underbelly. Dwayne’s dark tresses were disheveled from slumber, parts of scrap scattered around him. An elongated, metal screw was lodged between his teeth as he concentrated on his work.

He could smell you long before you’d crept into the lobby, but he hadn’t expected to see you in such a downtrodden state. Dwayne was often respectful of your space, especially during your cycle. It wasn’t something he would ever endure, but watching you writhe and suffer wasn’t entirely enjoyable, either.

“Dwayne?” You croaked, awkwardly shuffling across outcroppings of debris and dirt, draped in your shoddy sheet as you spotted your boyfriend. There was something beautiful about him, particularly when he practiced his hobby of playing mechanic. Specks of black oil lined his forearms and fingertips.

Without missing a beat, Dwayne turned to look at you, hazel hues drinking you in with reverence and concern. Dark brows furrowed together as he abandoned his current project, grabbing at the tattered, red cloth that rode around within his back pocket. “Hey,” That familiar baritone held a subtle warmth to it. “What’s wrong, Mama?”

You knew that he knew, but he still asked you nonetheless. As he swiped away at the oil and pungent grease, Dwayne stepped closer toward you, stooping down to press a kiss against the top of your head. You smelled wonderful, natural sweetness intermingled with that of your menses.

“Everything,” You exhaled, shuddering when his large palm splayed out across your back, rubbing soothing circles into your sore flesh. “Where are the others?” Admittedly, it was a bit unusual to see Dwayne alone without the company of the pack.

“Hunting,” Dwayne confirmed, and without hesitation, he hooked a strong, taut arm underneath your legs, hoisting you up as he carried you like a blushing bride. Cradling you against his chiseled chest, he made sure you were back in bed, where you belonged. “I was worried about you.” He confessed, laying you back against the mattress.

His throat was burning — a fire so intense that he wanted to scream, but Dwayne was rather talented at smothering his hunger for the good of another. His thirst would be extinguished soon enough, whenever he could leave the cave to find unsuspecting tourists. He sat down along the edge of the bed, hand massaging into your thigh.

Guilt rippled through you, knowing that Dwayne had abandoned the hunt to tend to you, this fragile human. His brows furrowed together — he must’ve been reading your thoughts. “I’m sorry. You should go feed.” You encouraged him, despite keening into the comforting chill of his hand.

Dwayne’s mind had gone elsewhere — there was a way that he could feed without having to abandon you. Of course, it was purely self-gratifying and your best interests were secondary to his starvation, which crawled across his stomach, burning a hole through him. He kept quiet, gingerly massaging your leg with his hand, which drifted towards the swell of your hips.

He didn’t like seeing you this way, agonized and letting yourself sit in the suffering. “If there was something that I could do to help, would you let me?” Dwayne asked, gazing down at you with an incendiary look. It was distinct, reminding you of the plethora of times he’d seduced you. Your stomach lurched, insides feeling as if they were withering away.

Your expression was somewhat quizzical, lips parting slightly as you reached for his arm. He was so much bigger than you — the strongest of the pack, urging you closer until his fingers could sweep away the hair framing your visage. That thick, coppery swarm of blood invaded his nostrils, singing his throat yet again.

“What do you have in-mind?” You asked, somewhat hesitant as he caged you in between his arms, bending down to press a hungry kiss to your lips. Sex was the furthest thing on your mind, but you relented, moaning into his mouth as you reached for his dark tresses.

Dwayne was a phenomenal kisser — passionate and slow, as if he were savoring every second of it. Though, he had a tendency to let it whirlwind into something ravenous and primal, fitting for the quiet, stoic vampire. He exhaled, kissing you with a thinly-veiled desire, hand moving to cup your jaw.

“Could take the pain away.” He uttered, withdrawing from your lips with an indiscernible expression. Dwayne was always difficult to read — endlessly complex, an enigma that you wanted to unravel. His mystique was always present, but you knew him better than most.

To you, it was an act of generosity — you were gullible, naive to Dwayne’s true intentions of feeding from you whilst making the ache fade away. Your heart fluttered within your chest, causing you to wet your lower lip. Dwayne’s thumb rubbed along your jawline.

“How?” With a soft gulp, you swallowed the growing lump within your throat, feeling his lips graze your jugular. His natural musk was enticing, often intermingled with the twang of stale copper and machinery oil. Dwayne shrugged his jacket off, bulky musculature engulfing you.

His shadow eclipsed any sliver of torchlight as he bathed you in darkness, gaze dusky as he gave you another deliberate kiss. Dwayne was silent, adjusting himself until he knelt at the foot of the bed, partially on top of you. His hand pushed against the inside of your knee, and that’s when you stopped him.

“N—No,” Your protest was weak, embarrassment rippling through your voice. There was something that felt inherently dirty to you, if Dwayne intended to follow through on whatever it was he planned on doing. “Dwayne, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” A shrewdness crept into your tone.

He read your mind — you thought he wanted sex. If you weren’t in so much pain, he would’ve been fucking you within an inch of your life by now. Dwayne’s chest rumbled with a brief chuckle, lips curling into a faint smile, pearlescent teeth glimmering against his caramel skin and stubble-coated visage. “Not like that,” He exhaled. “Something else. Help us both.” He murmured, stroking along your leg.

So that’s what he wanted.

Admittedly, you were a little nervous about the idea. He’d never insisted on feeding from you before, and certainly not in this manner. It sounded so crude and messy in your head. He’d bitten you, but never enough to cause any lasting harm. “I don’t know.” You mumbled, feeling another sharp, dagger-like jolt course through the pit of your stomach.

“It’ll make the pain go away,” Dwayne was gorgeous — like a chiseled god, crouched between your legs as he sought your consent. Of course, it was somewhat swayed through consistent persuasion, but there was something mutually beneficial to be found in this. “Let me.” His voice dropped to a husked octave, dripping with something amorous.

You were still hesitant, heart beating like a fluttering of a hummingbird, swift and constant, pounding just above your breast. Goosebumps coalesced along the length of your spine, crawling across your flesh like a tidal wave as he pressed a series of kisses against the inside of your thigh, face dangerously close to swarming forward.

“Okay, just — Just go slow.” Molten heat sloshed within your belly as Dwayne stalked forward, musculature parting your legs. He was so broad and strong, smooth underneath your fingertips as they brushed against his taut, veined forearms. He bracketed you in, arms like a cage as he kept you close.

Dwayne felt that blistering itch within his throat, the urge to feed, to savor the sanguine heat between your legs. He had no intention of being slow. Once the feeding commenced, it was difficult to stop. “‘Course, girl.” He nodded, dark eyes glued to your features as he flattened down against the mattress.

Sinewy hands curled into the waistband of your panties, slipping beneath the shirt you wore, one that didn’t happen to be covered in age-old blood. You were flustered, beginning to squirm as Dwayne peeled it all aside, menstrual pad included.

He rucked your shirt up, propped up on his elbows as his palms gripped at your hips so hard that it was sure to leave bruises. That smell of blood hit him immediately, scorching his throat and insides until it was all ash and dust. Dwayne was silent, broad tongue parting past until it drew along the length of your cunt.

Blood wept from your core, which felt uncomfortable for you, initially. You huffed, nearly sinking down into the mattress in a heap as Dwayne began to openly lap at your slit, drinking you in as if you were the most delicious thing he’d tasted. Your cunt clenched, nerves set ablaze as his nose bumped against your clit.

You tasted saccharine — coppery and vitriolic, but it was his sort of feast. Dwayne let out a grunt, lapping at the blood that oozed from your cunt, letting it linger upon his lips, invading his senses. Once he heard your sweet moans from above, he tugged you forward, a growl ripping through his chest.

Those aches and pains were sluggishly beginning to ebb away, soothed by the vampire who drank from between your thighs. It wasn’t as much as he wanted, but it was enough, tongue raking hot embers across your cunt as the pleasure unfurled within your stomach.

“Dwayne,” A blissful sigh escaped you, back beginning to arch off of the bed and toward his mouth. Your fingers clamored to hold on, finding their purchase amongst his tousled mane of jet-black hair. He’d eaten you out before, but not like this. There was the added element of blood involved. “D—Dwayne, don’t stop.” You whimpered.

Within the dim light of the alcove, those orange flickers of light from the small array of candles made his skin look like velvet. Those dark eyes never left you, pinning you in-place as he drank freely from your cunt. Your menses stained his mouth with red, tongue occasionally drifting from your entrance to your clit.

A burnished, golden sheen glistened within his eyes, hunger somewhat dissipating. He wasn’t satisfied nor satiated, intending to drink his fill — as for you, he suspected you’d have to endure his constant lapping and sucking until you were nothing more than a sobbing mess.

Your poor legs were quivering, wobbling on either side of his face as he steadied you, hands clamping down to keep you still. He idly massaged into the pliant flesh of your thighs, tongue assaulting your cunt with a viciousness to it. Crimson dribbled down his chin, but your flow was beginning to taper off from your prone state.

A myriad of throaty, wanton mewls escaped you, toes curling in delight as he gingerly suckled at your clit. The sensation was temporary, fleeting as his attention drifted elsewhere, tongue lapping at another slow-trickling rivulet of blood. Dwayne hummed, deep and gravelly, stubble tickling the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs.

It was only when he withdrew that you were babbling and stammering, wanting to know why he’d suddenly stopped. “W—Wait,” You whimpered, pitiful as ever, cunt aching something awful as he licked at his lips. Seeing Dwayne’s mouth and chin drenched in a darker shade of scarlet made you feel hot, heat creeping through your belly. “Please.”

His hearty chuckle made you irritated, but it was short-lived. You watched as Dwayne settled himself onto the mattress beside you, hues a vibrant gold, his countenance stained in your menstrual gore. “I’m not finished, pretty girl. Still hungry.” He reassured you, and plucked you up with two strong hands.

You were eternally grateful for Dwayne in that moment, who placed you on his chest. Without missing a beat, he bumped you forward, and you were gazing down at Santa Carla’s most stoic, vicious predator. An endless hunger danced within his eyes, soon to be quelled by the delicious blood that pooled between your legs.

Dwayne could tell that you weren’t expecting this, and it certainly made it all the more enticing for him. You were so smitten, his sweet little human. He’d fantasized about having you sit on his face until you were nearly unconscious, but this was all the more sweeter. Embarrassment flooded through you, but Dwayne seemed entirely unphased.

Initially, you were scared of hurting him, a notion that Dwayne found to be a little too innocuous. He could hear your heartbeat pounding away beneath your collarbone, thrumming like the beat of a drum as he lowered you back onto his mouth.

Your knees pressed into the mattress on either side of his head, dark tresses splayed out like a halo. With this newfound angle, you were staring at Dwayne — or more like, he was gazing at you. His tongue quickly invaded your throbbing cunt, blood catching on his lips. It was messier this time, making you tremble beneath his hold.

A liquid heat coursed throughout your body, pooling heavy within your stomach. Cruor oozed from your throbbing cunt, and now that you weren’t lying on your back, Dwayne was getting another taste. He continued to dutifully lap at your slit, ensuring that he didn’t miss a single drop of blood.

It sat thick and heavy upon his tongue, beginning to bring some semblance of relief to that raging fire that scorched within his throat. His pain was relinquished, and so was yours — a mutual exchange. Even then, he wanted more, digits digging into your haunches as he flicked his tongue over your clit again and again.

There was something disgustingly entrancing about the way he greedily lapped at your core, face buried deep within your cunt, hungry for your menses. If he wasn’t a creature of the night, you might’ve been somewhat indifferent to all of this, but he was bringing you such a wave of relief.

You wiggled your hips, accidentally grinding yourself onto his face, and Dwayne indulged you. As he lapped at another stream of crimson ichor, you moaned, chest heaving with heavy pants and wanton mewls, hands perched along the rickety, half-torn headboard.

“S—Shit,” You exhaled, tears stinging your eyes as you began to make that steady climb toward your climax. Dwayne didn’t stop, never relenting or slowing any movement as he lapped at your cunt, broad tongue swiping over every inch of your slit. The pleasure began to outweigh any pain you felt, muscles spasming. “Dwayne!” A whine left you, head rolling forward.

A deep, guttural growl emanated from Dwayne as it rumbled throughout his wide chest. It was mesmerizing to watch him from above, your hands splaying themselves along his bronze shoulders. His mouth drifted toward your inner thigh, and he looked to you, seeking approval before he bit you.

With a messy, lazy nod, your cunt throbbed and pulsated with molten heat, causing your nails to dig into Dwayne’s skin, hard enough to leave behind crescent-shaped imprints. Golden, crimson-ringed irises flashed in your direction as his countenance contorted into something inhuman, monstrously beautiful in your eyes.

Pearlescent fangs and pretty teeth sought out the pliant, soft flesh of your inner thigh, and he bit down — hard. It left behind the angry-red marks of unusual teeth as ringlets of a sanguine color trickled down your leg. Dwayne licked his lips, appraising you with an incendiary stare as he hastily collected every scrap of your lifeblood.

“M’close,” You whimpered, shuddering when he pressed a kiss atop the freshly-formed bite. His face promptly nestled back to the cleft between your legs, drawing another stream of your menses into his mouth before seeking your clit. “Close.” You said again, breathless and drunk with desire.

Dwayne felt his cock twitch within his jeans, able to smell your arousal through the haze of blood. The siren’s song of cruor was far more powerful, but even then, he could savor both with a feeling of sheer delight. His hunger steadily dwindled, fed by your saccharine cycle — if only you were like this all the time.

His lips formed a tight seal as he began to suck, causing you to nearly double over. “Don’t stop, Dwayne,” Perspiration began to break out along your body, coalescing along the length of your spine, dewy beneath the shirt you wore. “Please, please.” You were desperate, wanting to feel that white-hot explosion of a release.

Exhaustion settled in, your energy having been expended by keeping yourself aloft atop his face. Your cunt tasted sweeter than anything he’d had before in his centuries of existence. Dwayne considered you to be his fountain — a very captivating fountain. His touch screamed with amorousness as he rocked you into his tongue.

At last, your body began to quiver, muscles twitching and spasmodic as you climbed toward your orgasm. Dwayne could feel your weight fall a little heavier atop him, and he happily supported you, so long as you were bleeding. He added that edge of teeth, letting them graze over your clit with a feather-light pressure.

It sent you careening over the edge, cumming onto his mouth with enough mewls and moans to last him for days. It echoed throughout the alcove, and you were on the verge of sobbing, having gained some sliver of relief in the end.

Dwayne lapped at your cunt through it all, consumed by the shadow of greed and possessiveness. He could hear the rest of the boys clamoring throughout the cavern, which soured his mood just a little. They had a poor habit of acting up whenever you were enduring your menstrual cycle — understandable, of course, but an annoyance for Dwayne.

With a grunt, he gently nudged you back onto the taut, musculed expanse of his chest. His mesomorphic stature felt so solid underneath your pliant body, and your hands brazenly felt along his sternum. There was no heartbeat, forever frozen by immortality. His countenance was one of sheer satisfaction, lips and chin smattered in your blood as he licked at his mouth.

“Feel better, don’t you?” Dwayne mused, unable to withhold that little twinge of amusement in his voice. His large hand rubbed and massaged along your thigh, drifting up towards your hips, and then back down again on a continuous loop.

You nodded, feeling all warm when his body shook with a brief tremor of laughter. Dwayne sat up just a little bit, palm grasping at the back of your neck as he brought you forward for a very intimate kiss. A startled gasp tore through your throat, but he held you there, letting you taste yourself — ichor and all.

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as your entire physique hummed and buzzed with satisfaction. Of course, the ache of your cycle never fully dissipated, but Dwayne had certainly done his part in quelling the pain, for now.

Dwayne gingerly patted the swell of your ass, copping a feel in the process before pressing another string of kisses against your neck. He grabbed at the hem of your shirt, rucking it up a-ways. He was quiet, and you were fine with that, eyes widening as he wiped his mouth off with the remnants of your nightshirt.

Jesus — you knew better than to tempt fate, arousal stinging at your core again. You huffed, taking a moment to compose yourself as you attempted to reach for your panties. He intercepted you, snatching your wrist before your fingertips could even reach the lace trim.

“Not tonight, girl,” Dwayne uttered, placing you right beside him, bulky arm curling around your frame. He made you feel so safe — a glaring juxtaposition to his ravenous hunger and vampiric state.

You felt a pair of fangs tauntingly scrape over your jugular, able to feel the chill of his bare chest nudging into your back. “Might get hungry later.” He rumbled, pressing a chaste kiss against the back of your shoulder.

#slasher x reader #slasher x you #the lost boys x reader #the lost boys x you #the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #dwayne tlb x reader #tlb dwayne x reader #slasher fanfiction #slasher fanfic #slasher x y/n #the lost boys fanfiction #slasher fandom #sunkendreams masterlist

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princesitangelita · 6 days ago

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⊹₊⟡⋆♡ jim refuses to leave the office without you after your lame boyfriend forgets to pick you up from work.. again..

warnings: just a little bit of angst, jim is jealous and frustrated, comfort (?), slight fluff, cheating (but not really???)

a/n: ditzy!reader only has a boyfriend in this fic alone, not as part of her entire !reader lore <3 send in jim req’s!

“byeee!” you adjusted the pink scarf around your neck as phyllis and bob vance from ‘vance refrigeration’ drove away, both of them waving at you with wide smiles plastered on their faces. god, it was cold out here. “come on, roy..” you whispered to yourself, poking your head out to look at the entrance of the parking lot. small clouds formed with each breath you exhaled, the cold pennsylvania air nipping at the skin of your cheeks and the tip of your nose. you watched as everyone filed out of the building one by one, your heart sinking to your stomach as the sun set further down the horizon.

sighing out in frustration, you scrambled through your purse for your phone, the bag slipping from your fingers before the contents tumbled out onto the concrete. you laughed to yourself, just thinking about how much more embarrassing can this get. your boyfriend had obviously forgotten all about picking you up for the second time this week, your favorite lipglosses are rolling down the pavement, the tubes only getting further out of arm’s reach, and your skirt is far too tight for you to pick up your stuff without looking awkward and frazzled.

“this is the worst..” you speed walked down the parking lot, your heels clicking against the walkway until jim came out, wasting no time in jogging over. “hey, what are you still doing here?” he followed your line of vision, quickly getting your stuff off of the ground before towering over you. your cheeks always heated at the height difference between you two, a hint of a smile playing on jim’s lips when he saw the flustered expression on your pretty face. “n-no reason! uhm, something came up with roy, so i’m—” before you could finish whatever lie was going to slip from your tongue, he interrupted you.

“again? does he know it’s like twenty degrees out here?”

jim was irritated to say the least— but not with you. never at you. he took off his coat, draping it over your shoulders before guiding you back inside. “wait here while i go warm up the car real quick, alright?” he didn’t give you time to object, leaving you in the warm lobby as he stepped out in nothing but a button up. deciding to dial roy one more time, you rolled your eyes when the call went straight to voicemail. you should’ve known it wouldn’t have gone through. throwing the damned thing back in your purse, you didn’t wait longer than five minutes before jim pulled up right out front.

he opened the door for you, his face bright red from the cold as he motioned for you to come outside. “jim, you really don’t have to do this! i was just about to go to the bus stop.” you stayed seated, shrugging off his coat as he shook his head. “and let you sit out in this weather? absolutely not.” he almost sounded offended, his tall figure coming inside once again to scoop you up in his arms. “really, jim, it wouldn’t be the first time, i—” opening the passenger door, he sat you down gently, cutting you off before you could make up a ridiculous excuse for your boyfriend who clearly didn’t care if you froze halfway to death.

when jim was in his seat, he couldn’t help but squeeze the steering wheel with an unforgiving grip. “i’m sure roy got caught up with something, it’s fine, truly!” why were you still trying to defend him? roy was the last person who deserved to be with you. the guy doesn’t even send you work flowers for christ’s sake! he blatantly checks out other girls in front of you, which jim could never wrap his head around because to him you were the only person who existed inside of a room, he never let you go out with your work buddies, and he sure as hell never complimented you.. at least not in the way you should be getting complimented.

it took a lot to get jim upset, but seeing the way your smile falters when roy dismisses something you say, or the way the sparkle in your eyes dim when he doesn’t react to something new about you. your hair, for example. you had got it done, the style suiting you perfectly, making you look so cute and pretty, all just for roy to not even acknowledge your new ‘do. he remembered you having to excuse yourself to the ladies room and seeing your glossy eyes avoid everyone’s gaze as you zoned out of the conversation roy was so focused on rambling about once you came back.

so bad, jim just wanted to ask what on earth you saw in him. of course, he wouldn’t do that, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t wrack his brain pretty often for an answer. “i’m sure he got busy,” jim agreed, not wanting to push the situation, “do you think he’s home?” you blinked. he definitely had to be at home. “no.” you lied, meeting jim’s eyes, “why?” please ask me out, please ask me out, you repeated in your head. “ah, well, i don’t know about you, but i can really go for a hot chocolate from retro’s..” retros. that was your usual spot for whenever jim treated you to lunch.. which was almost everyday.

please say yes, please say yes, he pleaded silently as a sudden smile made its way to your lips. “with jumbo marshmallows and a croissant?” jim chuckled. “yeah, whatever you want.”

#❤︎₊ ⊹ works #₊˚⊹♡ ditzy!reader #₊˚⊹♡ jim halpert #the office #the office fanfiction #the office imagine #the office smut #the office x reader #jim halpert #jim halpert x reader #jim halpert fanfiction #jim halpert smut #jim halpert imagine

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steddieasitgoes · 6 months ago

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Detours & Second Chances

written for @steddie-week Day 5 prompt: Reunion / Getting Back Together Rating: T | wc: 3545 | no cw Another big thank you to @sidekickjoey and @thefreakandthehair for giving this a beta read for me! Read on ao3

Steve had high hopes for this road trip.

Just him, the twins, and the wide open roads with the promise of the beach and Disneyland on the horizon. He knew better than to plan it down to the second, especially when traveling with Mabel and Ollie, but he did hope to keep to some kind of schedule. A few nights here, a couple of nights there, a handful of free time hours carved into nearly every day so the kids could pick which tacky roadside attraction they could visit and then gloat to Aunt Robin about seeing.

What Steve hadn’t planned for was the Winnebago going up in smoke four and a half hours from Disneyland on I-15.

The good news is that it happened just as they entered Las Vegas, Nevada, and not thirty minutes later in the middle of the Nevada-California desert. The bad news is that it happened just as they entered Las Vegas, Nevada on a Sunday afternoon when everyone was trying to leave.

Steve expects the drivers around him to curse and flip him off. At the very least, he imagines them shaking their heads in disapproval as they slowly inch past the smoking Winnebago broken down in the middle of the three-lane highway. And there is some of that, honking horns and judgmental gazes, enough that he has to explain to Mabel and Ollie that showing someone your middle finger is not nice and no you shouldn’t do it to each other. But there’s also a handful of Sunday travelers who take pity on him.

Two truck drivers manage to get their rigs off onto the shoulder and then mosey their way over to see if they can help Steve identify why the RV is smoking. A woman in a mini-van full of preteens in sports jerseys offers him an entire ice chest full of snacks for Mabel and Ollie. Some good Samaritan even makes the half-mile hike to the nearest pay phone to call for a tow truck so Steve doesn’t have to leave the kids or make the track himself with them following behind him.

Forty-five minutes later, they all climb into a yellow taxi while Winnie the Winnebago gets towed away. For a moment, he thinks he’s ruined the entire vacation, but listening to Mabel and Ollie talk about how cool it was to watch the “toe man” do his job eases the guilt.

Unfortunately, the repair shop is nowhere near as exciting as standing in the middle of I-15 — at least, that’s what Ollie tells Steve five minutes after they’ve walked into the garage. Steve tries his best to keep everyone’s spirits up in between filing out paperwork and bargaining with the mechanic over the price of the repairs. He lets the kid raid the vending machine and spread it all out on the worn plastic chairs in the makeshift lobby like some kind of five-star buffet. It’s mainly cookies and chips, a few candy bars, and a granola bar Mabel even generously spent $1.10 on for him.

It’s not the worst meal they’ve had on the trip — that honor goes to the gas station in Kearney, Nebraska, and the hot dogs he knew were a bad idea — but it’s definitely the least nutritious. And, in hindsight, it’s not the best idea now that Mabel and Ollie are hyped up on sugar in a small space with no central air conditioning. He gets it. He’s almost at his wit’s end, too, and he has several decades of patience over them.

He’s hot and tired and so frustrated, he’d break down and cry if he could, but he doesn’t want to upset the kids or ruin the day more than it’s already been ruined. Instead, he puts on his brave Dad Face™, leaves his pager number with the mechanic’s receptionist, and takes the kids to explore Las Vegas.

The city wasn’t on their list. It’s not kid-friendly, and the July heat is anything but welcoming, but thankfully, they luck out and stumble across a hybrid game and music store a few blocks away from the repair shop.

The bell above their door announces their entrance to the quiet storefront as the sweet, sweet relief of the AC hits them. Steve closes his eyes, soaking in the cool air for a moment before Mabel and Ollie are tugging on his hands, trying to drag him in different directions.

Steve knows he should put an end to their bickering that borders on full-on sibling bullying, especially judging by the way they’ve dropped his hand in favor of pinching each other’s arms, but he gets distracted when a figure emerges from the back of the shop.

The footsteps are uneven, which makes sense when an ornate cane enters Steve’s line of sight. He studies it, taking in the impressive woodwork and paint job — Max’s own can is pretty spectacular, but this one is a close second. Soon, his eyes drift from the cane to the hand holding it, a ring on each finger. Silver and gaudy and eerily similar to—

“Holy shit,” the voice says. “Are my eyes giving out on me too, or is Steve Harrington really standing in my shop right now?”

Steve’s eyes shoot up to meet the man’s face — to meet Eddie’s face. It’s been years, shit, almost a decade he thinks, but Eddie looks the same. Older, sure. A few wrinkles around his eyes and a softer belly. But he’s still him. Unruly curls barely contained in a bun at the base of his neck, mischievous eyes, and a smile that makes Steve’s stomach flip in a way it hasn’t done in too long. Yup, definitely him.

“Eddie?”

Eddie laughs, throwing his head back with the same carelessness as he had at twenty years old. Only this time, when he rights himself, he has to reach a hand up to his neck to massage the ache. “Man, this is some cosmic, universe shit!”

“At least it’s the good kind this time,” Steve jokes.

Eddie goes for a full-on hug, Steve an awkward side one, and as a result, they end up with their bodies smushed against each other, arms pinned between each other in the world’s worst hug of all time. But it’s also the greatest, as far as Steve’s concerned.

When they separate, Eddie gives Steve a quick once-over before shaking his head again. “So, what brings you all the way to Sin City?”

“A family road trip.”

“Ah, so the six nuggets and a Winnebago dream came true, then?” Eddie muses.

“More like two nuggets, a piece of shit rental that’s in a repair shop after crapping out on me on I-15, and a co-pilot that doubles as my son’s emotional support stuffed animal,” Steve says, then smiles. “But I can’t complain.”

“Wheeler never jumped on the Harrington Express?”

Steve’s interrupted by Ollie running at him with a vinyl record thrust above his head. Mabel appears a moment later, holding a giant box in her arms that’s clearly too heavy for her. She passes it to Steve, who hands it over to Eddie, who has taken refuge behind the glass counter. As soon as the kids appear, they’re gone again. Steve shouts after them to stay together and not to touch anything. It goes in one ear and out the other if the loud crash that follows a moment later is anything to go off of. Steve winces and looks at Eddie apologetically.

“I promise I’ll pay for whatever they break. They’re a little stir-crazy from being stuck at the repair shop all day.”

Eddie doesn’t look worried about it in the slightest. In fact, Steve’s willing to bet he didn’t even hear the crash, judging by the fond look on his face. It’s a soft smile, almost bittersweet if he had to put a name to it. It looks out of place on his face — almost too earnest, which makes no sense because Eddie is the most earnest guy Steve’s ever known.

“Eddie?”

“Huh, what?” Eddie blinks himself back to the present. When he shakes his head, the elastic holding his hair back snaps, sending his curls cascading down to his shoulders. It’s easy now to see the hints of gray peppered into the locks that used to keep Steve up at night — occasionally still keeps him up.

Steve gestures toward the row where Mabel and Ollie are frantically trying to restack things on the shelves. This time, Eddie snorts and meets Steve's gaze with that familiar crooked smile.

“Don’t worry about them. S’just boxes and shit.”

Steve nods and then grabs a pen out of the cup on the glass counter. He twirls it between his fingers, something about the rhythmic motion calming the silly nerves running wild in his body right now.

It’s just Eddie.

“Nance would kill you for even thinking she’s a part of this circus,” Steve says, then panics. “To answer your question from before. No misses at all actually. Or misters either,” Steve says before he chickens out.

Eddie left before he realized that little fun fact about himself. It was ironic (and tragic), considering he’s the reason Steve even realized it to begin with. Chalk it up to cosmic, universe shit — the bad kind that time.

“Cause that could be an option to, you know. Obviously you know, but it’s an option for me too in case you didn’t know and—“

“Woah, breathe, Steve.”

Steve takes a slow, deep inhale. His exhale is strong enough to send a few of Eddie’s stray curls fluttering before settling back amongst the rest. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing!” Eddie throws his hand across the counter, squeezing Steve’s wrist,

It’s silly, but something about the simple touch relaxes the nervous energy that’s taken over him ever since Eddie emerged from the back. A part of Steve wants to blame the relief on the touch, but he knows better. Knows it has everything to do with finally telling Eddie about this part of him he helped him discover.

Steve’s been out to just about everyone he cares about, and now he’s certain he’s told them all.

“So no misses or misters,” Eddie says, before hiding his growing smile behind a curl. “What about Buckley? Is she on the great American family road trip with you?”

“Robin refuses to get into Winnebagos after, well, you know.”

“Can’t say I blame her for that one.”

“It’s just me and the kids. Mabel and Ollie. They’re my kids…I mean, well, obviously, they’re mine, and anyone who says they’re not are fucking idiots, but they’re not blood mine or whatever people say.” Christ, he’s rambling again. “I adopted them. Actually, I was supposed to be their temporary foster parent. I was in my second year as a social worker, and they were two and six months old when they came in the middle of a Saturday night and we had no one on standby. They came home with me, and then they just never left.”

Somewhere in his rambling, Eddie made himself comfortable, pillowing his chin on his hands, elbows sinking into the giant mouse pad that’s stretched out on top of the glass counter. He’s dropped the curl, his bright smile on full display, dimple, and everything when he looks at Steve now.

“I love a good foster fail story,” he cooed. “I have a few myself. Fosters that turned into full-on adoptions. I mean not human kids, cats. And a few dogs. Even a bird. But they’re my kids, you know. I mean, not that what you did is the same thing as me or anything, but I… I’m just going to stop talking now.”

This time, it’s Steve's hand that breaks the barrier between them, reaching out to pat Eddie on the shoulder. A reassuring thing that he hopes conveys that he’s not offended. Just in case, he spells it out for him verbally too.

“I get it. Kids mean a lot of things to different people. If you say they’re your kids, they’re your kids,” he says, smiling. “Robin has a plant, Ferguson. When she first got it she carried it around in Ollie’s baby bjorn because she needed to ‘bond’ with it.”

Eddie laughs, this time hard enough that the case between them vibrates. “Lesbians, and their plants, man.”

“She rescued it from her ex, who was drowning it.”

“We’re just all patron saints of lost things, aren’t we?”

“Guess so.” Steve smiles, then adjusts his own stance so he’s leaning against the counter. Something pops in his back, and for once, he doesn’t make an excuse. Eddie knows all about their aches and pains — the way their bodies are thirty years older than they should be, thanks to their teenage years. He runs a steady hand through his hair, hoping beyond hope that it’s not as greasy as it feels and then turns his attention to Eddie. “What about you? Game and record store sounds like a pretty sweet deal.”

Eddie blows out air in a whoosh and reaches for another curl. “I mean, yeah, it’s pretty cool. Closest I could get to being a rockstar, I guess.”

“Do you still play?”

“Occasionally. There’s a dive bar a few streets over that I perform sometimes. No band, though. At least, not yet. I’m giving myself a few more years; let the gray really come in,” Eddie says, fluffing his curls. “And then I’ll join one of those mid-life crisis dad bands.”

“Solid plan.” He fiddles with the pen again, contemplating if he should ask what he wants, too. Screw it. Who knows when he’s going to see Eddie again — if it’ll ever happen again. It’s best not to leave anything on the table. “What about a partner?”

“Me?” Eddie asks, pointing to himself before laughing. “Nope. No partner. No lovers either, really. It’s just me and the petting zoo. And Wayne, when the old man makes the trip out to visit me.”

Eddie being alone all these years shouldn’t make Steve happy. He should want him to be settled by now, grossly in love with someone who makes him feel special like he deserves. But Steve’s heart is a traitor, and his brain is no better, already imagining ten different ways he could change that.

Had he known Eddie’s been in Vegas alone all this time, he would have visited a lot sooner. Hell, he would have made this their final destination — he’s sure he could find something family-friendly here for Mabel and Ollie. There’s a lake around here or some shit, right? They could have—

“Shit,” Steve says, reaching for his beeping pager. The repair shop number appears on the small screen. “Could I borrow your phone? This is the repair shop.”

“I suppose I could make an exception on my no-customers rule,” Eddie teases. “Phones in my office, straight back there.”

Steve nods and rounds the counter towards the backroom but stops short. The kids. He almost forgot about the kids. “Do you mind keeping an eye on them?” Steve asks, tilting his head to Mabel and Ollie who have finally picked up the mess they created.

“Of course! Don’t worry about them. I’m great with kids.”

“I remember.”

___

Eddie’s office isn’t unlike his teenage bedroom Steve spent many nights in. It has his typical brand of messiness but with an added layer of professionalism. Like, there’s an honest-to-God filing cabinet in the corner, but next to it is a three-foot-tall Yoda statue. Papers lay haphazardly on the desk beside a calculator.

There are posters all over the walls — some Steve recognizes, some he doesn’t — and endless photographs in mismatched frames. At least three wallet-sized frames with pictures of his pets — kids — sit on the desk. There’s one of Wayne and Eddie on his graduation day on the bookshelfnbeside photos of him with Dustin and some of the other kids over the years.

He even spots himself amongst the familiar faces — a polaroid they took one summer in Hawkins. It feels like a lifetime ago, but a part of Steve remembers what it was like to have Eddie’s arm slung around him like that with the sun beating down their faces, causing them to squint in the photo because Jonathan refused to shoot directly into the sunlight.

Steve gives himself another second to soak in Eddie’s office, searching for any other details he can find to fill in the years he’s missed — a pride flag draped over a chair, his business license framed on the wall, packs of half-used nicotine gum instead of cartons of cigarettes. Finally, he makes it to the phone and punches in the number of the repair shop.

___

When Steve resurfaced twenty minutes later, the neon “open” sign that flickered in the window had been shut off. Eddie’s abandoned his post behind the counter, taking up space at a table in the game section of the store. Mabel and Ollie are sitting on either side of him, listening intently with wide eyes as he moves two figures across a board toward a hoard of waiting miniature figures.

“I leave you for twenty minutes, and you’re already corrupting them with your nerd games?” Steve teases, ruffling both Mabel and Ollie’s hair in the process.

Eddie scoffs. “You expect me to believe Dustin hasn’t put them through D&D boot camp yet? Please.”

“Your stories are nothing like Dustin’s,” Ollie says, voice full of awe.

“Yeah, he always wants to skip the fun adventure stuff and get straight to the battles,” Mabel chimes in. “That's why we like it when Daddy gets to be in charge.”

Eddie’s head swivels so fast that the irrational part of Steve’s brain fears it’s going to fly right off. “You DM for them?”

“I wouldn’t call it Dungeon Master-ing,” Steve says, grabbing the back of his neck. The room feels ten times hotter all of a sudden. The AC must have shut off, he reasons. There’s no other explanation for his sudden flush. Not at all. “I really just make sh— stuff up.”

“He’s the best make-believer! You should play with us sometime. Like tonight!”

“Mabel, Eddie’s busy running this store; he can’t just stop to play with you. And besides, we have to get going soon.”

“They fixed Winnie?” Ollie asks, jumping up from his seat.

Steve sighs. “Not yet. That’s why we have to leave. I need to find somewhere for us to sleep tonight that’s—

“—I have a guest room.”

Steve blinks. Is Eddie offering his place to them? His hearing may be spotty lately, but he’s never imagined entire phrases before. Which means—

“I mean if you want,” Eddie says sheepishly this time. “I have a hoard of kittens running around right now, so if you’re allergic, it might not be the best place but—“

“Kittens!” Mabel squeals before rapidly asking Eddie a hundred questions about them, but he doesn’t stand a chance of answering.

“Can’t we stay at his house, Daddy?”

“I really do have a spare bedroom and bathroom. Plus, a couch and a semi-stocked fridge. And I wouldn’t charge you. The hotels around here are going to sense your need and charge you an arm and a leg, trust me.”

Steve would be stupid to turn it down. A free stay in an actual house. A meal he can cook with his own two hands that don’t involve a shitty stove that gives out after a few minutes. Not to mention, a shower with actual hot water.

Plus, it comes with the added bonus of a few more hours with Eddie. Yeah, there’s not a chance in hell he’s turning that down. Not again.

“Alright, yeah. Let’s do it.” Mabel and Ollie shout in excitement, spinning around the table. Eddie might not have the same energy level as them to join them, but his smile says it all.

“It’ll be just like old times.”

“Wait! You guys know each other?”

Steve laughs first, but soon Eddie’s cackle joins him and it really does feel like old times again. “Of course, I know him. What? You think I would let us stay in a stranger’s house? Don’t you know me at all?”

___

Three days later, Steve finds himself behind the wheel of Winnie the Winnebago as she makes her grand return to I-15. When he glances over his shoulder as the traffic crawls for miles in front of him, he spots Mabel and Ollie throwing Fruit Loops at each other to see who can catch the most in their mouth. And when he looks to his right, Eddie’s there — feet up on the dash, hands protectively clutching Ollie’s teddy bear as if he’s hoping it offers him the same comfort it does for the six-year-old — handsome as ever.

“Didn’t think I’d ever be back in one of these,” he says fondly. “Especially not with you behind the wheel.”

“Really?” Steve lets the corners of his lips twitch upward. Doesn’t try to fight the blush he knows is creeping across his cheeks. “‘Cause this is all I’ve thought about for years.”

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