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javiscigarette · 10 months ago

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Teacher's Pet, part II

Joel Miller x virgin f!reader

Summary: Joel gives you a few more lessons and a few more feelings start to surface. (Picks up right where part one left off so I recommend reading that first!)

Warnings: unbalanced power dynamics, virgin!reader, neighbor/bff/more experienced! Joel, age gap, oral (m!receiving), fingering, thigh riding, dirty talk, ungodly amount of pet names, unprotected sex, virginity loss (it's the real deal this time), he's back and more annoying than ever but still just as sweet, disgustingly fluffy at times, reader has hair he can run his fingers through but no other physical descriptions, no use of y/n

w/c: ......10.5k I am so sorry

a/n: It's here! I kept changing my mind with how I wanted this to go so hopefully I landed on something good. I'm absolutely still blown away by the amount of love and support you guys gave on part one :'))) you are all incredible. Hoping and praying this one lives up to everyone's expectations

Part One

my masterlist

"Well, excuse the fuck outta me" he huffs, but the feigned offense is betrayed by the way he’s positively beaming down at you. "I'm about to give you the best fuckin' lay of your life, and here you are makin' fun of me." "The best fuckin' lay of my life? I haven’t even had one lay. Don't exactly have anything to compare it to." "Yeah, well, trust me. Best you're ever gonna get.” "That's some big talk, cowboy. Let's see if you can live up to that."

Getting on your knees for Joel Miller wasn’t exactly on your agenda for today.

Not that you’re really complaining.

He doesn’t look bad from this angle, you have to admit. His chest looks broader from where you are on your knees in front of him, if that’s even possible. His hair is messy and tousled from where your fingers pulled and tugged with a pretty red flush spreading down his neck and chest, and the soft curve of his belly looking positively sinful.

“First lesson is how to take a man’s pants off,” Joel starts. “Think you can handle that? Or do you need a demonstration first?”

You scowl up at him, his words pulling you out of your transfixation on his body.

“Shut up,” you hiss. “I can take your pants off.”

He grins and raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah? Go on then. Show me.”

You roll your eyes but take a steadying breath, trying your best to calm your pounding pulse and trembling fingers as you reach up for his belt buckle. The metallic jingle has your heart fluttering in your chest, and you make quick work of the rest, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans until they’re hanging open in front of you.

You stop for a moment and glance up at him. He’s looking down at you, a soft encouraging smile playing on his lips.

“S’okay, baby. Keep goin’,” he murmurs, nodding his head once.

You give him a small nod and a tight swallow around the lump in your throat, dropping your gaze back to the task at hand. Gently, gingerly, you hook your fingers in the waistband of both his jeans and boxers, pulling them both down simultaneously.

A tiny, barely audible gasp escapes you when his cock springs free and bobs heavily in front of you.

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper, too stunned to stop the words from slipping out.

“Just Joel if fine, actually.”

You barely even register his jab and you definitely don’t have the bandwidth to come up with any kind of witty comeback right now, your mind too busy processing the sight before you. Sure, you’ve seen plenty of dicks before, the internet can be a magical place. But this, in person, up close and so real, is an entirely new experience.

He's big, thick, heavy, and long with a slight upward curve. The tip is flushed a deep pink, shiny with smeared precome with more beading at the slit. A few thin veins run from his base to his tip up the length in a twisting pattern, the dark hair at his base neatly trimmed. And he’s hard, so much so that it looks nearly painful and your stomach flutters know that you're the one who did that to him.

"You can touch it, y'know." Joel says softly after a few moments of silence. "It ain't gonna bite."

"Oh my god" you groan, bringing up a hand to scrub down your face as he pulls you out of your awe.

"Again, just Joel is fine."

He laughs proudly at his own joke and you drop your hands in your lap and stare up at him in disbelief.

"Oh c'mon! You walked right into that one, no need to get all-"

He cuts himself off with a hiss, the air escaping between his teeth and his head falling back as your hand wraps around him, squeezing just a little too tight to be pleasant. He staggers half a step backward, hips jerking away from your grip.

"You were saying?'' you ask sweetly, grinning up at him.

"Fuckin' christ, woman. You're tryin' to get me off not break it off"

You loosen your grip a little but keep your hand still and look at him with expectant eyes, waiting for further instruction. It's not that you don't know what to do, you just don't know how to do it well. How to do it for him.

You want to do well for him.

The realization should alarm you, scare you even. But you find it only spurs you on, only makes the want burning inside of you even more potent and pressing. You want to make him moan, gasp, make his body writhe beneath your touch. You want him to be breathless, shivering, and panting with pleasure. You want to make him come undone, just like you did for him.

"Okay" he starts, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath. "Lesson two is learning what he likes. Everyone's a lil different, but the basics are the same."

The nerves in your gut twist almost painfully, the anxiety of it all getting you half a second away from tapping out.

But your decision is set in stone when he drops his hand to yours where it’s wrapped around him, giving a light squeeze before he starts to gently guide your movements.

"Start slow,” he starts, a light strain tainting the edges of his voice. “Nice and gentle. Wanna work up to it."

You nod and watch, focused intently as if you were actually a student in class as the head of his cock disappears and reappears in your fist. His hand covers yours nearly entirely as he drags it up and down while you try and memorize where he squeezes a little tighter, when he swipes his thumb over the head.

“Can give a little twist at the top,” he murmurs, voice low as he demonstrates what he means. “There you go, baby. Just like that,” he sighs when you do the same.

Once satisfied, he removes his hand, letting you take control. You continue to pump him, trying to replicate the movements he just showed you. His cock is a warm, heavy weight in your hand, twitching and pulsing every now and then when you twist your wrist just right or swipe your thumb over his head like he showed you, collecting and spreading his precome to ease your strokes.

Your confidence builds with each stroke and soon enough you start to experiment with your pace, switching between faster and slower. He gently rocks his hips in time with your hand, unable to resist thrusting forward just slightly.

The fire inside you burns even hotter at the shaky breath that he lets out above you, heat spreading through your veins like wildfire before settling low in your belly, your core aching and pulsing with it.

"This good?" you ask concerned, your voice barely above a whisper.

He lets out a breathless chuckle and looks down at you with heavy lidded eyes.

"Yeah, honey. Real good," he rasps, a small smile spreading across his lips.

You match his smile, biting your lip and basking in his praise, a warm, gooey feeling spreading outwards from your heart to the tips of your fingers and toes. It's like he has a direct link to the inner workings of your brain and body with how effortlessly he can make you melt, with just a soft, easy smile and a few well chosen words.

"Should I...do you want my mouth?" you ask, glancing between his flushed, leaking cock and his hooded eyes.

"God yes, baby. J-just start slow. Lick the tip, get a feel for it. Don't try to take too much right away," he instructs, his voice constricting more and more with each word.

"So I shouldn't try to fit all of your giant cock in my mouth on my first go?" you quip, raising a brow.

"Please don't" he chuckles. "Don't want ya pukin’ all over the place. Might kill the mood," he adds with a grin.

You shake your head and let out a light laugh, the sound trailing off into a content hum when he brings his hand to the top of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair, dull nails scratching lightly at your scalp.

"You're ridiculous," you sigh, leaning into the touch.

"You love it."

You do, so, so much.

"Now c'mon. You've got work to do," he teases, his hand gently tugging at your hair.

You comply easily enough, leaning forward and tenderly swiping your tongue across the slit, licking up the precome that's gathered there. He hisses, a rush of hair pushing past his clenched teeth as his cock twitches in your hand, a fresh bead of precome forming.

With your confidence renewed by his reaction, you do it again, pressing your tongue flat against the slit and swirling it slowly around his swollen tip all while your hand still works him at a steady pace.

Emboldened, you take it a step further and close your lips around him, sealing them around the head to give him a slow, experimental suck. The groan he rewards you with has sparks shooting down the length of your spine.

"That's it. Good girl. Just like that," he pants, fingers tugging and tightening in your hair.

His praise washes over you in another wave of warmth, a feeling akin to a full-body shiver that has goosebumps breaking out over your skin. It strokes your ego, pride and confidence filling you as his soft moans and grunts fuel the fire burning in your belly.

Encouraged by the way he’s already falling apart, you take him a little deeper. It’s only a few inches but your lips are already stretched wide, a slight ache already settling in your jaw from how wide it's being forced open.

You keep your tongue flat against the underside of his cock while you start to bob your head, trying to match the pace of your hand. But the motions are new and unfamiliar, your movements clumsy and uncoordinated and when he hits the roof of your mouth, your gag reflex kicks in forcing you to pull off quickly, coughing and sputtering.

"Easy. Easy," Joel soothes, his fingers scratching at your scalp again. "Try to breathe through your nose. And don't don't force it, yeah? Feels good, just the way you were doin' it."

"Sorry," you apologize sheepishly, looking up at him through your lashes.

"Ain't nothing to be sorry for. S’your first time. It takes practice. Now, c'mon. Try again. Nice and easy. And if this man tries to-"

But you're not in the mood for another Joel Miller Life Lesson, especially when he’s about to mention the other man who's name you can barely even remember anymore.

Thankfully, his words dissolve into a groan when you take him back in your mouth, your lips wrapping around his sensitive head, tongue flat where it slowly glides down the underside of his cock as you take him deeper.

The ache in your core is quickly growing more and more incessant. You can still feel the ghost of his fingers and tongue on you, your inner thighs wet and sticky with the memory. And the sinful sounds he’s making, whispered curses between breathy moans and grunts, are not exactly helping your case.

You manage to take a little more, his thick cock stretching your mouth wider, forcing your jaw open even further. You gag slightly around him again but you’re determined to push through it this time. YOu squeeze your eyes shut and breathe in harshly through your nose as saliva dribbles past the tight seal of your mouth and drips onto your hand, your fist diligently pumping what you can't take.

He responds with a low, guttural groan, his hips jerking forward, chasing after the sensation of your throat convulsing around him.

You're still only a little over halfway down and it's a quick realization that you'll never be able to get it all down your throat. Maybe you can try and practice, but it’s practically a pipe dream to even think about getting his whole cock into your throat without choking to death on it.

But that's a problem for another day.

For the next time.

For now, you hollow out your cheeks and suck as you pull back, tongue swirling along the underside until his cock leaves your mouth with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting your swollen, spit-slicked lips to his glistening tip.

You use your hand to spread the wetness, mixing it with the precome that's leaking steadily from the flushed head. The smooth glide allows you to speed up your pace as you look up at him through your lashes, trying to gauge his reaction.

He's staring down at you with hazy, lust blown eyes, his jaw hanging open, panting heavily.

"How am I doing, Professor?" you tease with an innocent smile. A lazy grin slowly spreads on his face in return.

"You’re a fuckin’ natural, baby," he mumbles, his hand moving from where it's tangled in your hair to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over the apple of your flushed cheek, "My good girl."

And maybe, most likely, the words slipped out unintentionally, the heat of the moment forcing out things that he doesn’t really mean. But all the alarms and sirens in your head warning yourself to not fall too deep into this trap that is Joel Miller with his pretty words and sweet praises and soft smiles are all dead silent right now. There’s not a single part of your brain that’s trying to resist him right now. You doubt you could even if you wanted to.

Because he just called you his girl.

His.

To say you’re fucked would be the understatement of the century.

You hum, pressing your cheek into his palm, wanting, needing, craving more. More of his touch, his taste, his warmth, his cock, his praise. So you take him back in your mouth with a renewed determination, spurred on by his words, wanting to prove to him that he's right, that you are his good girl. Determined to show him that you can make him feel good, that you can please him, that he'll want more of you, need more of you.

And judging by the way his grip on your hair is almost painful, his thighs trembling as he holds himself still, fighting the urge to jerk his hips forward and shove his cock down your throat, you'd say you're doing a damn good job

"Makin’ me feel so good, baby. So fuckin' good," he pants when you take him a little deeper.

You whine quietly around him as you press your sticky thighs together. White hot heat pooling low in your belly, your neglected cunt throbbing and aching, slick, wet, and messy.

You squirm in your spot, rubbing your thighs together and grinding down on nothing in desperate search for the slightest bit of friction. You pray that the movement is subtle enough for Joel not to notice.

As if that’s possible.

“Oh, Sweetheart,” Joel starts, his tone annoyingly saccharine and condescending as he smirks down at you. “Did we forget somethin’ important?”

Another small whimper is all you can muster, too focused and preoccupied with the way his thick length is filling your mouth, the weight and taste of him on your tongue dizzying and addicting.

“Well look at that,” he coos, his hand leaving your hair and sliding down your cheek to cradle your jaw. He swipes swiping over your bottom lip that’s stretched around his length, smearing the spit that’s gathered there.

“Think I finally found a way to shut ya up. We should’a done this a long time ago. Woulda saved me a lot of headaches,” he chuckles, the sound dissolving into a sharp hiss when you dig your nails into the tender skin of the back of his thigh, hard enough to leave a mark.

You pull off his cock with a wet pop, jaw aching as you glare up at him.

"I'd shut up if I were you" you warn, the threat of your words completely lost in the breathless, desperate way they leave your mouth. "Just one good chomp is all it would take" you add, clicking your teeth together for emphasis.

But Joel's face just splits into a grin, a full blown, infuriating smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"Biting huh? Now that’s a little kinky. Didn't know you had it in you, sweetheart."

"Shut up," you snap, but it still lacks any real heat, not with the way your lips are twitching at the corners, fighting a smile, your eyes undoubtedly sparkling, your heart definitely leaping out of your chest at the way his eyes are boring into yours.

"Careful, sweetheart. Might have to knock you down a whole letter grade for that type of talk. Gotta respect your professor ‘n all, y’know."

"You're insufferable," you grumble.

"But yet, here you are, still on your knees."

"And I'm gonna get up and leave if you don't stop talking."

"Leave before or after you chomp my dick off? Cause I'd really like a heads up for that, if ya could."

"Jesus fucking christ, Joel!" You huff, rolling your eyes so hard it actually hurts. "Do you ever just shut the fuck up? I'm literally on my knees right now with your dick in my mouth and you're still finding ways to piss me off!"

“What can I say? It’s a special talent of mine,” he says with a nonchalant shrug, the smug smile on his face making you want to genuinely bite his dick off now.

You drop the wet hand you had wrapped around him and start to move to your feet.

"You know what, I'm just gonna go. Maybe I'll call my coworker. He's not nearly as irritating as you," you huff, pushing yourself up onto shaky legs, your knees stiff and sore.

But you can't even take one step before he's grabbing your waist, his large, warm palm resting firmly on the swell of your hip. His fingers flex, his grip tightening, not enough to hurt, but it's enough to halt you in your tracks. You're not particularly fond of the way your heart skips a beat in your chest, the way you can feel goosebumps breaking out all over your body from just his touch.

He pulls you in closer until your chest is pressed against his, hard, wet cock pressed against your bare thigh.

"You really think you’re gonna leave with your pussy drippin' all over the place like that?” he says, his voice seamlessly switching from teasing to low and rough as his dark, hungry eyes bore into yours. “You're about to ruin my floors with the way you're leakin' right now, baby. Wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

Your cheeks flame with embarrassment from how easily he was able to see your desperation, and with anger at how right he is.

"Shut the fuck up, Joel," you mumble, giving him a weak push at his chest. "I'm not leaking I-"

The rest of your sentence stays lodged in your throat when his free hand slips between your thighs. Two deft fingers drag through the slick mess, collecting your arousal and spreading it around, a soft, wet, obscene sound filling the space between you.

You don't even think to stop the high pitched, breathy whine from escaping your lips when he slides a thick finger inside you with no warning, your pathetic sound dissolving into a moan when he immediately follows it up with a second one, his palm pressed flat against your clit.

"Not leaking, hmm? Sure don't seem like it, baby," he purrs, his voice a low, rumbling drawl, his warm breath fanning across your cheek. "Feel that? How easy it was for me to get two fingers in ya?"

"Fuck," you whine as you dig your nails into the bare skin of his shoulder, hanging on to him and desperately searching for any semblance of stability as you try not to sway on shaky legs.

He crooks his fingers in you, fingertips digging into the spongy spot on your front wall that has your knees buckling, tiny stars dotting your vision momentarily as a rush of arousal gushes out of you, a pitiful whimper falling from your lips. Joel chuckles, low and dark and the sound shoots straight to your neglected clit, a bolt of lightning arcing down your spine.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he murmurs, nosing at the sensitive skin below your ear, the faint scrape of his beard against your cheek sending a shiver down your spine.

The feeling of him removing his fingers is a cruel, sudden jolt, the emptiness and lack of pressure and friction has you keening, a needy, impatient noise bubbling up from your throat.

He's moving before you can complain though, stepping around you to sit on the edge of the bed and then promptly pulling you down onto his lap. You let out a small squeak of surprise as he forces you to straddle his thigh, pulling you down until your aching cunt is seated firmly against his bare skin. The position has his cock pressing against your hip, a drop of precome smearing against your skin.

"Fuckin' soaked for me, honey,” he drawls, his fingertips dimpling the soft skin of your hips. “And to think you were about to leave without gettin' what you came here for.”

You can't even speak, too enraptured with the feeling of his strong muscles flexing subtly under your hypersensitive clit. So you ignore his teasing and just grind down instead, past the point of desperation.

But he would never let you win that easily, would he?

He laughs and tightens his grip on your hips, stopping your movement and holding you in place.

"Ah-ah, not so fast, baby. Let's talk about the terms first."

You give him the best glare you can muster while suppressing a needy whimper.

"Terms?"

"Yeah. Terms. Of all this. Like if this is a one time thing, or if we're gonna be havin' regular...lessons," he replies, his hands slowly sliding up your waist and coming to rest on your ribs, his thumbs stroking the undersides of your breasts.

"If you're gonna go out with this guy," he continues, his thumbs brushing over both of your nipples. "Or if I'm the only one who's gonna get to see this," he says, leaning forward, his warm breath fanning over your skin. You bite your lip, holding in the soft, needy moan threatening to spill out when his lips press to the hollow of your throat.

"If I'm the only one who gets to have you like this. If I'm the only one who's allowed to touch you. To kiss you," he says, punctuating his last word with a kiss to the center of your chest, his hands squeezing the swell of your breasts, his tongue flicking out and licking at your nipple.

"Or do you plan on letting him have you too?" He asks, the tip of his tongue swirling around your nipple before closing his lips around the pebbled peak, sucking it into his mouth, his teeth lightly grazing it before he pulls back. "'Cause I'm not too keen on sharin', baby."

You take a deep steadying breath, trying to clear the thick haze that's clouding your mind and focus on his words, his questions about the fucking terms.

And you do think about it, about your coworker who's been nothing but so sweet to you, who doesn't get on your nerves in under a millisecond. The coworker, Micheal, you think, his name finally returning to you, who doesn't tease you and play games and leave you a panting, needy, dripping mess.

And while he is really such a perfect gentleman, he isn’t the one that’s been there for you, listening to you complain about all the shitty things that have happened to you in the last year. He isn’t the man that lets you use him as a punching bag whenever you’re frustrated, has never been the calm, reasonable voice that challenges the anxiety that overwhelms you and threatens to pull you under.

Michael has never held you when you've cried, never helped you cook dinner after a hard day at work, never fixed the flickering light in your bathroom. He certainly has never dropped a key to his front door in your palm accompanied by a lopsided smile and the words just in case ya need anything.

Michael isn’t the one who’s been the one to pick up your pieces and put you back together, so gently and tenderly, making you even better than you were before.

It's useless, trying to avoid it. Trying to push it down, bury it, ignore it, how you've been feeling and what you want.

It’s Joel.

All of it.

You want Joel.

All of him.

You've wanted him since the day you showed up on his porch with a six pack. You've wanted him all those times you watched from a distance as he fixed something in your house, so capable and competent, casually waving away your slew of thank yous. You wanted him every single time he invited you over for a movie night, sitting close enough to you on his couch that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. You wanted him every time he made your blood boil and your eyes roll so hard you swore you could see the back of your brain, and every time you genuinely thought you were going to smack him.

And now, you have him.

Right here, naked and hard and underneath you, your pussy leaking on his thigh.

The answer is so painfully obvious, the words falling from your lips before you even have a chance to process them.

"M'not gonna see him," you finally manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Want this. Want you."

Joel hums, indicating that he heard you. But again, he would never let you win that easily.

"Speak up, baby," Joel says, releasing your nipple with a soft pop, his eyes dark and intense, a predatory, feral glint in them. "Can't hear you."

And it's infuriating and annoying, absolutely maddening. And it's the last straw.

You're not sure if it's the frustration, or the pent up desire, or the heat burning inside you, or the fact that Joel's still hard, and still leaking precum against your hip, as your cunt slides against his thigh, but you break.

You absolutely shatter.

"I want you!" you practically shout, hands balling into fists where they're resting on his shoulders.

"You, okay? You! You and your stupid, fucking, annoying ass, and your dumbass pickup truck, and your stupid, charming grin, and the way you always call me 'baby', and 'honey', and 'sweetheart'. It drives me fucking insane! And the way you're always fixing shit, and being so fucking helpful and sweet and you always, always make me laugh, and smile, and there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by in the past year that I didn’t think about you and I can’t get you out of my fucking head, not even for a single fucking second.”

The words spill from your lips in a breathless tirade, and it feels good, freeing. It's like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders, like a great burden has been taken off of you.

But the feeling doesn't last long.

Silence stretches between you and it's suffocating, oppressive, and you feel like the walls are closing in on you, panic rising in your chest.

Your cheeks burn, nauseating embarrassment and humiliation coursing through you as you realize the full weight of what you just word-vomited all over him. Your chest heaves, and you hang your head, unable to bring yourself to look at him.

But then, a bright laugh sounds through the otherwise quiet room. And your eyes snap to Joel's face, only to find him smiling.

He's fucking laughing.

"Joel!" you scold, a mixture of mortification and confusion washing over you.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry" he placates, but the laughter in his voice doesn't help to ease your nerves. "I didn't mean to laugh, it's just...I just can't believe how dense you are."

The daggers you shoot at him are truly deadly.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Do you think I just go around callin' everyone 'baby' and 'sweetheart'?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"I..." you stammer, trailing off as his words sink in.

"I mean, my southern charm is one thing,” he says, obnoxiously wiggling his eyebrows. “But you’re seriously thick if you think I'm like this with anyone else.”

You stare blankly at him, trying to process what he’s saying.

“Do you think I let all the neighbors just use me for free handy work, think I cook dinner with all of them, think I keep a stash of everyone’s favorite snacks in my pantry, give everyone a fuckin’ key to my front door? And you think I just go around agreeing to sex lessons to anyone who asks?” He rambles, squeezing your hip.

Your brain is reeling as you try to wrap your head around everything.

"Well...no” you stammer, your brows pinching together. “But…"

"How many other girls you seen me bringin' home? Huh? How many other girls you see me with?"

"None" you admit sheepishly.

"Mhm. Because I don't. Not since you moved in next door."

You frown, confusion clouding your features. You open your mouth to speak but Joel cuts you off.

"I like you, baby," he admits with a sigh. "A lot. Maybe too much. But I wasn't about to lose you as a friend just because I'm crazy about you. And if being your friend is the only way I can be close to you, then I'd take it and die a happy man."

You can only stare at him, the words he just spoke bouncing around in your brain, and a warmth blooms in your chest, your heart fluttering wildly in your ribcage.

"Are you kidding me?!" You exclaim suddenly, hitting his shoulder.

"Hey! Ow!" he barks, his eyes widening as he grabs his shoulder. "The fuck was that for?!"

"You've been trying to sleep with me for a whole year?!"

"I wouldn’t say trying," he says with a casual shrug. "Just waiting. Wanted you to take the lead but you’re a little stubborn, baby."

You scoff, glaring at him, not missing the way his lips twitch at the corners, the way his eyes sparkle with amusement.

"So, the reason why I haven't been able to catch a break the entire time we've known each other, has been because you've been trying to get in my pants? Is that what you're telling me?"

"Well, that part is just natural. You're just too easy to get riled up. And that’s not my fault."

You open your mouth to argue with him but his sliding over your hips to palm at your ass and his lips are ghosting over the shell of your ear, his beard scraping against the sensitive skin.

"But no, I can't deny that I like it," he rasps, his breath warm against the side of your neck. "The way you get all fired up and angry, your face all flushed, your chest heaving. Mmm, it's nice. You look real pretty when you're all worked up and pissed off," he whispers, his lips curled in a smile when he presses a kiss to the spot below your ear before pulling back to look at you.

"Why didn't you tell me,” you say, voice softer now, the rough edges of your tone smoothed out by the feeling of his lips on your skin.

"Didn't want to make it weird. Didn't want you to think I was some creepy old man and ruin our friendship" he explains with a small shrug. "But then you came over here tonight askin’ for a sex lesson, which was not easy by the way, acting like I wasn't already about to burst outta my pants as soon as you asked. Thought for sure you were onto me. But then you started going on about that douche canoe Michael-"

"Joel."

"And then I got jealous and pissed, and figured it was time to cut my losses and just enjoy it while I can, but-"

"Joel."

"Then we were kissing and you were touchin’ me and you're so fucking sexy and-"

"Joel!"

"What?"

"Just kiss me, you idiot" you breathe, and before the words are even fully out of your mouth, his lips are on yours, crashing into you with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs.

It’s bruising, searing, all consuming.

His fingers dig into the meat of your ass as he pulls you forward, the seam of your pussy dragging deliciously against the strong muscles under warm skin.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, and tug, the base of your spine tingling when he groans softly into your mouth, and you grind your hips against his, the wet heat of your cunt grinding into his thigh, pulling another soft, low sound from his throat.

"Fuck" he groans, pulling away just far enough to press his forehead to yours, his breath coming in quick, sharp pants, his chest heaving. "Baby, are you still okay with this?" he breathes, voice ragged and gravelly.

You look at him as if he's grown a second head.

"Are you serious?"

""I...well, I was serious when I said I'd be fine with being your friend, and I don't want you to think I'm tryna pressure you into anything."

You can't help but roll your eyes, the soft, endearing side of Joel coming out at the worst possible time.

"I literally just admitted that I've had a crush on you for months, and now I'm sitting on your lap, soaked, and grinding on your thigh and you're worried I don't want this? I think you might be the dense one here."

He grins, wicked and wide, a flash of sharp teeth, the dimple in his cheek deepening.

"Guess so," he says, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

You don't respond, and instead choose to silence him by pulling him into a kiss, licking at the seam of his lips and sucking his tongue into your mouth. He groans softly into your mouth, and you swallow the noise, rolling your hips again, chasing the sweet friction that's sending a delicious heat through your veins.

"God, baby," he breathes when he pulls back for air, hands on your ass gripping and guiding you against his leg, encouraging your movements. "Makin' such a mess, ain't ya?"

You bite your lip, nodding as a wave of arousal surges through you.

"Yeah, you are. Soakin' my leg, sweet girl," he says, his eyes flicking down between you, watching as your pussy drags along his thigh, coating him in a shiny, slippery sheen.

"Fuck, Joel, please" you whine, your hips jerking and rolling against him.

And that's all the encouragement he needs.

In the blink of an eye, you're on your back, Joel hovering above you, a wild look in his eyes.

"Don't worry, baby," he says, his voice low and husky, and he trails his fingers over your hip and up your ribs, his touch light, teasing, barely ghosting across your skin and it's almost ticklish, making you shiver. "M'gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel so good."

Your heart thunders in your chest, and your cunt throbs, your arousal leaking out of you. It feels like you’re about to crawl out of your own skin, the desperation growing with every passing second.

He trails his fingers down your sternum, and over the flat expanse of your stomach, goosebumps breaking out across your skin in his wake, the muscles under your skin rippling and twitching at the soft, fleeting touches.

And when he reaches the crease of your thigh, you let out a shaky, trembling breath, and he chuckles softly, his lips curling into a crooked grin.

"Eager, are we?" he teases, dragging his fingers over the slick flesh between your legs, gathering the wetness pooled there before slowly sliding a single thick digit inside you. "We're gonna get there, baby. But gotta make sure you're ready first. Don't wanna hurt you.”

You whimper, your walls fluttering and clenching around his finger, and your hips roll forward, seeking friction, wanting, needing more.

Joel curses under his breath and groans softly when your wet, warm walls constrict around his finger. His cock leaks and twitches where it’s pressed against your thigh, and you whimper, both of you caught up in an endless cycle of keying each other up.

"Please, Joel" you beg, and the words come out soft, pleading, and desperate. You should probably be embarrassed at how quickly he's reduced you to a begging, quivering mess, but the way his eyes go dark, and his pupils blow wide, makes the embarrassment worth it.

"Please, what, baby?” He prods with a devilish smirk. “Use your words"

"You're such an asshole" you snap, but the venom in your voice is diluted with pleasure as he slips another finger inside you.

"You keep saying that. What d’ya want me to do about it, sweetheart? You want me to stop?" he taunts.

"No!" you cry out, reaching down and grabbing his wrist with an iron grip when he starts to pull out.

"Then tell me what you want, honey."

"Fuck you,” you mumble weakly.

"Mhm. Okay, honey" he drawls, his thumb moving to circle around your clit as his fingers curl inside you, still pumping in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. . "I'll just wait then. Take my time. Tease your pretty little pussy until you can't stand it. I'm in no hurry, baby. Gonna take all night, if that's what it takes. I've waited this long."

"Joel, please" you whine again, the ache between your thighs turning to an unbearable burn.

"Tell me what you want,” he repeats casually.

"You," you try with a needy whimper.

"Me? You got me, sweetheart. What else?"

“Oh my fucking god can you please just fuck me? Or do I have to spell it out for you, old man?"

"There she is," Joel says with a laugh, his grin splitting his face "There's my girl"

And then his fingers are gone and you whimper at the sudden emptiness. But before you can protest much more,, they're sliding back in, this time joined by a third.

Your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping him, nails digging into the soft flesh of his muscles.

"Oh fuck" you pant, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he starts pumping his fingers again.

"Gotta get ya ready, baby" he breathes, and his lips are ghosting along your jawline and up the shell of your ear, his breath warm. "Such a tight little pussy, but we'll get you nice and open, don’t worry. Then I'm gonna sink in ya, fill you up real nice. Take real good care of you, baby. Fuck you nice and deep, make you forget your name. Would you like that? Hmm?"

A strangled moan is all you can manage in response. His words, filthier and more deranged than any you've ever heard him speak before, sending your brain into overdrive.

You can’t help but roll your hips, and bucking, and gyrating, meeting his thrusts as his fingers pump in and out of you, the lewd, wet, sloppy sounds filling the otherwise quiet room, and the coil in your gut is threatening to snap.

"Joel, Joel, fuck, oh fuck" you chant, your hazy and thick with pure arousal. It drips down your spine and flows through your veins, liquid heat burning, searing, and scorching you from the inside out.

You manage to open your eyes long enough to look down and see the tendons flexing in his wrist, the muscles and veins in his forearm bulging as he works you, his face brows pinched in concentration as he focuses on your reactions.

"Oh shit, honey," Joel curses breathlessly, a smug grin stretching across his lips as he feels your slick pooling in his palm. “So messy, baby. You gonna cum? Hmm? Gonna be a good girl and lemme feel your sweet little cunt clench and drip even more around my fingers?"

You whine, throwing your head back against the pillows as he thrusts his fingers into you, the heel of his palm rubbing deliciously against your clit. Your fingers scrabble for purchase, desperately seeking something, anything, to ground yourself. You settle for the firm muscle of his arms, your nails biting into his skin and leaving bright red marks that'll undoubtedly leave little half-moon bruises later

"Fuck, yeah, c’mon, sweetheart, lemme feel. Give it to me."

You come with a cry, the dam breaking, the tension in your gut exploding outward, a wave of euphoria crashing over you, washing through every inch of your body. Your legs tremble and shake, and Joel works you through it, his fingertips nudging that spongy spot inside you, dragging his thumb across your throbbing clit, milking you through the aftershocks, and when you start to come down, you're panting and breathless, your chest heaving.

You look up at Joel, and his eyes are blown wide, the deep, rich brown of his irises nothing more than a thin, dark ring around his dilated pupils. There are no words, at least none that you can manage to articulate at the moment, so instead you let out a breathless laugh, and a contented hum, a smile spreading across your lips.

Joel grins, laughing, and he leans down to capture your lips in a chaste kiss.

"Good girl" he breathes against your mouth, his words a low, rough rumble that has you keening. "That feel good, baby?"

"Fuck, yeah" you sigh, melting into the matress.

"Good,” he says before pressing a kiss to your forehead then pulling back to look you in the eyes again. “ Think you're ready for me now?"

“Mhm,” you murmur with a lazy nod. “Want you, Joel.”

Joel laughs, the sound sweeter than it’s ever sounded before.. "You've got me, sweetheart. You've had me. Always will."

"That's awfully fucking sappy," you tease breathlessly, threading your fingers into his soft dark hair.

"The best fuckin' lay of my life? I haven’t even had one lay. Don't exactly have anything to compare it to."

"Yeah, well, trust me. Best you're ever gonna get.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, raising a brow at him.

"That’s some big talk, cowboy. Let's see if you can live up to that."

Joel barks out a laugh, the sound coming out more like a snarl, his eyes flashing with something feral, predatory, and dangerous at your challenge.

And then he’s abruptly pulling his fingers from you then bringing them up to his lips, his tongue darting out to taste the slick coating his fingers. The sight nearly puts you into cardiac arrest.

"So fuckin' sweet" he murmurs, his eyes slipping closed momentarily, and a low, satisfied hum rumbles in his chest. It's downright obscene, the way his lips wrap around his fingers, how he licks and sucks, cleaning your arousal off of them.

"Joel," you breathe, your voice nothing more than a shaky exhale.

His eyes snap open, and he gives you a lopsided smirk.

"Sorry, baby,” he starts, pulling his fingers from his mouth and wiping them on the blanket underneath you. “Can’t help myself. Just had to taste ya again. Gonna have a hard time not doing that every time,” he finishes with a sly smile.

Every time.

The words are like a shock of electricity shooting through your veins, setting your blood ablaze. Every time. As in multiple times.

How the fuck is this real?

He stupid smirk is still glued to his face as he leans over to rummage around in the drawer of his nightstand. Your brows furrow when he pulls out a condom and goes to open it.

"I...uh..." you start, but the words die in your throat.

"What's wrong?" Joel asks, his smug expression immediately morphing into one of concern.

"I...well...it's just, I'm- I'm on the pill… We can use a condom, but...it's not necessary…just wanted to put that out there. In case, you know…you didn't wanna use one. Since it's not...like, not entirely necessary,” you say quietly, casting your eyes down to where your fingers fiddle with the edge of the blanket.

"Ahh, I see,” Joel responds, all too pleased. “You just want me to raw dog it, huh?”

"Wha-no! Oh my god, Joel, you are so fucking embarrassing," you groan, covering your face with your hands.

"S'okay, honey, don’t be embarrassed. It is all part of the full Joel Miller Experience anyway,” he reassures you with a sickeningly sweet tone..

"Oh my fucking god, I told you not to say that ever again,” you groan, shoving at his shoulder, which only makes him laugh. And you can feel yourself smiling too, despite how irked you are.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop," he relents, still laughing a little. "If you really don't want me to use one, I guess I can make an exception, just for you"

And it's as if he knows that you're about to lash out at him again, because he leans down and presses his lips to yours before you have a chance to say anything, all the fight in you draining away as soon as his mouth is on yours.

"You tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispers when he pulls back. “Or if I do anything you're uncomfortable with, or if you just need a break. You let me know, okay?"

You nod.

"Promise?"

"I promise, Joel. Please just get on with it."

"Impatient" he breathes, but kisses you again nonetheless, soft, slow, and tender. And when he pulls away, his eyes are searching yours like he's looking for any signs of hesitancy. But all he sees is the same raw desire reflected back in your wide, eager eyes.

You see the exact moment that the last vestiges of his self-restraint disappear, his gaze growing darker and hungrier as he pushes himself up to sit back on his knees, one hand around the base of his cock, the other on the inside of your thigh as he tenderly spreads you open and settles himself between your legs.

He teases you of course, dragging his length through your folds, letting the swollen, leaking tip catch on your clit before sliding back down to nudge at your entrance. You whimper, and try to grind against him, but his hand is firm, holding your hip still, not allowing you any friction.

He hushes you softly, his thumb gently stroking the soft, delicate skin where your hip meets your thigh. "Just let me do what I need to do, baby. Let me take care of you.”

"You're evil," you whine, squirming underneath him.

"Yeah, well, that's a matter of opinion" he grunts, your breath hitching when he lines himself up and finally, finally pushes the blunt tip of his cock inside you.

Your lips part on a gasp, the feeling of his thick head stretching you open, the slight burn of the intrusion, a mixture of aching and pure pleasure. And you can feel his eyes practically burning holes in your skin, drinking in every little reaction, every flutter of your lashes, every twitch of your brow.

"How's that?" he asks, his voice tight and strained. He looks just as wrecked as you feel, his jaw tight, a sheen of sweat already on his brow, the muscles in his forearms bulging with the effort of restraining himself.

"More," is all you manage to rasp out, pushing your hips up, trying to get him to sink deeper.

Joel grunts, and then obliges, his eyes screwed shut in concentration as he tries to feed you only a little more of his considerable length. You can see him chewing on his lip, his nostrils flaring, a slight tremble in his thighs, his fingers digging into your skin.

"Jesus fuck, you're tight" he grits out, his chest heaving as he tries to regain some of his composure. "I-I didn't…fuck, I didn't think- shit. God fuckin' damn, baby"

You smile a little, the corners of your lips curling upwards. It's the first time you've ever seen him truly at a loss for words, and it's a very welcome change.

You reach up and card your fingers through his hair, his eyes fluttering closed, a sweet sigh escaping his lips at the feeling.

"I can take more," you say softly.

Joel shakes his head, his brow furrowed. "Not yet."

But you don't listen. Not that you ever really listen to him.

Your impatience gets the best of you and you push yourself further down the bed, forcing another inch of his cock inside you, your walls fluttering wildly around him as you let out a low moan.

"Ah fuck, honey," he groans, his eyes flying open.

"C'mon, Joel. More. Please," you beg, grinding down on his cock, taking just a little bit more with each roll of your hips until his fingers dig into your hips so hard, you're sure they'll leave bruises.

"Baby stop fuckin' movin'" he hisses, his grip tightening even further. "Please."

You can hear the strain in his voice, and you can feel him trembling above you, the muscles in his arms and shoulders flexing and tensing.

"Why not?" you pout.

"Cause m'tryin' not to fuckin' come right now, alright?" he grunts, his teeth gritted. "So please, just stop. For a minute."

"You can't possibly be serious," you breathe, a smile creeping on your face again. "You're not even all the way in yet."

He glares down at you, his eyes narrowing. "Not my fault you're fuckin' tight as shit. It's like your cunt is tryin' to strangle me."

You giggle a little, the sound coming out breathy and light. You don't miss the way Joel's cock twitches at the sound.

"You're being so dramatic," you sigh, rolling your hips again.

"Fuck, honey, please," he begs, his eyes pleading, and the sight is almost enough to make you stop teasing him.

Almost.

You can't help the devilish smirk that crosses your face as you bring your hand up to his cheek, stroking your thumb across the stubble on his chin. He lets his eyes fall closed again, leaning into your touch.

"This isn't very 'best lay your life' behavior."

"I will fuckin' strangle you," he mutters, his eyes still closed, a smile playing on his lips.

"Is that part of the Joel Miller Experience too? Because I don't remember seeing it in the brochure. Was it next to the premature ejaculation section? Or maybe the-"

The air is knocked right out of your lungs, cut off mid-sentence when Joel pushes forward. He keeps it slow but unrelenting, sinking into you in one smooth, fluid motion. You cry out, your back arching off the bed, eyes screwing shut as your fists twist in the blanket underneath you.

It's more than overwhelming, it's absolutely mind melting the way he buries himself completely, stretching your walls, forcing them to make room for him, to mold perfectly around his length. You gasp for air between harsh pants and weak cries, the sensation of him filling you up, so much bigger than you expected, so much thicker than his fingers. You squirm underneath him, trying to get used to the feeling of his tip pressed against your cervix, the pressure building deliciously as the ache radiates from your core through your belly, to the tips of your toes.

"That what you wanted, sweetheart?" he asks, his voice strained and gruff, one hand still gripping your hip as he presses the other into the mattress by your head, holding himself up. "Is that enough for you?"

You struggle to find words, but you're not even sure if there are any in the English language that can convey just how good it feels.

"Uh-huh," you nod, blinking rapidly as the edges of your vision start to blur. "Fuck, Joel. You're so fucking big, oh my god."

You hear him chuckle, and he presses a chaste kiss to your temple.

"Not too much though, is it? Cause you were begging for more just a second ago. Thought you could take it, sweetheart," he croons, nuzzling his nose against your cheek.

"No, no, 'sgood, " you whimper, the words slurring together as he starts to grind into you. "F-fuck. Joel. Shit, that feels so good. Holy fuck.

"There's my good girl," he murmurs, pressing more kisses to your cheek and your jaw, trailing down the column of your neck. His lips brush against the sensitive skin, his breath hot against you. He lets you get used to the feeling, cursing under his breath and trying to think of anything else but the tight, wet heat convulsing around his cock.

"Doesn't hurt?" he asks with a sudden tenderness, his voice vibrating against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

"No," you sigh, finally starting to relax around him.

"Good. You gonna let me know if it does, right baby? Or if you need me to stop?"

You nod weakly. "Mhm."

He kisses you then, a soft, languid, and lazy drag of his lips against yours. He slides his tongue along your lower lip, and you let him in without any hesitation, parting your lips with a breathy sigh. He takes the opportunity to swallow down every little sound that spills from your mouth, kissing you with a kind of reverence, a kind of tenderness, a kind of patience and passion that makes your heart feel like it might beat right out of your chest.

He pulls away leaving you even more breathless and dizzy, your lips tingling and swollen. And you're not sure if it's because of the kiss or the way he's stretching you so fucking wide, but your fucking drunk on it.

He kisses you once more, on the corner of your mouth, his lips curling up into a smile when you nuzzle against his cheek, seeking out more.

"You still with me, honey?"

"Yes, yes, I'm here," you answer, your voice sounding far away, distant and dreamy. Joel chuckles, the sound making you smile.

"You wanna keep going, sweetheart? Or d'ya need a minute?"

"I'm good, I'm good," you assure him, trying to lift your hips a little. "You can...keep going."

"Alright. Let me know if you change your mind, okay?"

You nod and then close your eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath as Joel pulls out, just a little, his cock dragging along your walls. It's another wave of overwhelming sensation, your entire body shaking. But it's nothing compared to the feeling when he pushes back in. The same full, aching, almost painful stretch, except it's somehow even better this time, your walls gripping him tighter, pulling him in, trying to keep him there.

"Fuck, oh my god, oh my god," you cry, your breath catching in your throat, your eyes fluttering open to look up at him. "Oh, Joel, fuck."

He's hovering over you, his brows furrowed in concentration, the muscles in his arms, chest and stomach flexing and contracting as he moves above you.

"Good?" he asks, a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, his eyes hooded.

You answer with a nod, followed by a long, low moan when he starts to slowly pull out again, pushing back in a bit faster this time. He builds a rhythm, the slick drag of his cock filling you up again and again, each thrust a little deeper, a little harder, a little faster.

"You're taking it so good," he pants, his hips snapping against yours with a particularly hard thrust, the force of which has you keening and crying out his name. Your walls clench around him, a gush of slick pouring out around his cock as you subconsciously try to pull him in even further.

"God you're so fucking tight, baby. Fuckin' soaked too, dripping all over me. Fuck. So fucking wet and perfect," he groans, his voice sounding strained, almost like he's in pain. "Such a good fucking girl."

You can't do anything more than just lay there and let him fuck into you, the sounds that spill from your lips a mix of moans, whimpers and desperate little cries. Your brain feels like mush, all thought processes reduced to a single loop of his name, your lips chanting it over and over.

And Joel's not much better, the only coherent words out of his mouth a string of praises, calling you his good girl, telling you how well you're taking him, how fucking tight you are, how heavenly you feel. His hands are everywhere too, caressing, stroking, kneading, squeezing, leaving no inch of your skin untouched.

He finds a steady rhythm and you know it's not nearly as hard as he could go, not by a long shot, but every thrust and drag of his cock hits you so deep and so hard, it's a miracle that you don't shatter beneath him. And the sounds, god the sounds are so obscene, the slapping of skin against skin, the wet, squelching noises of him pounding into your dripping cunt. It's a chorus of pure debauchery, music to both of your ears, only adding to the building pleasure.

And just when you start to think that it can't possibly get any better, he hits a spot deep inside you that has your body bowing, a strangled cry tearing from your throat. You clamp down around him and he curses, his hips stuttering, his rhythm faltering for just a moment.

"There it is," he grunts, and you can hear the smug smirk in his voice, the absolute bastard. "Right there, huh? That the spot?"

He doesn't wait for you to answer, pulling almost all the way out, and then driving back into you, hitting the same spot dead-on. And you keen and wail, your body thrashing wildly as a new wave of ecstasy washes over you.

"Yes, yes, yes," you chant, clawing at his back, digging your fingers into his shoulders.

"Yeah, I got ya," he husks, leaning down to suck and bite at the skin just below your jaw. He keeps pounding into that spot, making sure to hit it every damn time, and your vision starts to blur again, black dots dancing at the edge of your eyes.

You don't even realize you're about to come until it's crashing into you, a sudden and violent wave that threatens to tear you apart. And Joel can tell, from the way you start to shake, the way your walls are clamping down around him, the way your legs lock around his waist, and the way you're desperately gasping for air, that you're right there.

"There you go, sweetheart," he coos. "You're so fucking close aren't ya? I can feel it. You gonna come on my cock? Huh?Gonna let me feel that tight little pussy coming all over me?"

"Oh god, Joel," you sob, tears welling in your eyes, his words alone pushing you even closer.

"I know, honey. I know. Just let go, baby. C'mon, that's it. You can do it."

And then he's snaking a hand between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing rough, tight circles against the swollen bud, and the pleasure reaches its peak, the coil in your belly snapping, sending you careening off the edge. Stars burst behind your eyelids as the most intense, powerful orgasm of your life tears right through you. Every muscle in your body tenses and contracts, the rush of blood roaring in your ears as white-hot bliss erupts throughout every fiber of your being, your walls pulsing wildly, gushing slick around his cock.

He's there with you every step of the way, murmuring praise in your ear, fucking into you and grinding his cock against your cervix, prolonging your orgasm, extending it for what feels like an eternity. And then you're boneless, spent, and helplessly limp, barely aware of the way he's still rutting against you.

"So good, baby," he rasps, his voice sounding wrecked and broken. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

And then you feel him start to swell and his thrusts become erratic and you know he's right there with you, teetering on the edge, ready to fall. A few more pumps of his hips, his pace frantic and uncoordinated before he pushes himself back up on his knees and pulls out of you with a hiss. He jerks himself for half a second before spilling all over your belly and your cunt, hot, thick ropes of cum splashing against your skin. He grunts and hisses through clenched teeth, a few last drops spilling out onto your pussy, his cock throbbing against you.

You feel completely and utterly destroyed, every part of your body buzzing and tingling, still trembling. And your head feels stuffy and foggy, a hazy, peaceful kind of bliss settling deep in your bones.

Joel slumps down next to you, breathing heavy, a low, rumbling groan escaping his lips. You glance over at him, a lazy smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He's a sweaty, disheveled mess, and the sight makes your heart ache and swell, a rush of warmth flooding through your body.

He notices you looking at him and turns his head to meet your gaze, his own satisfied smile matching yours. You can't help but laugh, the sound bubbling out of your throat and spilling past your lips in a breathy giggle. Joel's smile spreads even wider, his eyes sparkling.

"What's so funny?" he asks, propping himself up on his elbow and rolling onto his side.

"Nothing, I just," you giggle again, and it's almost a hysterical kind of laugh, a nervous kind of relief flooding through your body. "That was…"

Joel chuckles, brushing a lock of hair out of your face, his fingers trailing across your forehead.

"Yeah, it was," he says, his voice a low rumble.

"And I…I just really like you, Joel. A lot. I don't know. I guess I'm just happy."

His face softens and he stares at you for a moment, his expression so fond and tender that you forget how to breathe for a moment. He leans down and kisses you, his lips gentle and warm before he pulls away.

"I guess I like you too," he murmurs, his signature smirk playing on his lips. "I dunno about a lot, but-"

"Shut up, you ass" you giggle, slapping his shoulder. "I'm trying to have a moment."

He hums delightedly and presses another kiss to your forehead."M'kay, you have your moment. I'm gonna clean you up, alright?"

You pout but let him go, letting the afterglow of your climax envelop you until he returns a moment later with a warm wet cloth. His touch is tender, gently cleaning between your legs and then wiping the cum from your belly. You're still shaking, every touch sending little aftershocks through your body.

"So," he starts, tossing the cloth into the corner of the room before looking at you expectantly. "Best lay of your life?"

You laugh, your heart bursting at the seams, your cheeks starting to hurt from smiling so hard.

"Not even close."

Thank you for reading!! I apologize in advance for any errors I do not enjoy editing!!

tagging those who asked and who might be interested:

@shewantstoknow @pedritoferg @khindahra @wand-erer5 @akah565 @thereaperisabitch @first-edition @lilyevanstan1325 @lovelyjess69 @elliesswearjar @iloveenya @harriedandharassed @c2ss1e @paleidiot @starry-eyes-love @lola8888673 @saguchiya @milla-frenchy @cayleejz @missyorkswhore @farrowroyale @abbyandersonsragdoll @glimmering-darling-dolly @katiexpunk @worhols @thecasualnope @ahintofkiwistrawberry @lulawantmula @sawymredfox @prismaticpizza @serenadingtigers @venturawriter @kyloispunk @millercontracting @jjhayhay20 @bitchesuntitled @bean-is-reading @lvl-2005 @kamcrazy123 @covetyou @survivingandenduring @pinkiec6-rubi @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @pedroshotwifey @perfectlyfreeanalyst @plsdontmisfire @lokigonnakmsforbucky @kr-ickl3

I will not tag ageless/faceless (no pfp) blogs. If you asked to be tagged and weren't you either did not have an age/pfp or Tumblr wouldn't let me :(

#joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

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thevoidstaredback · 8 months ago

Text

It's always graveyards. Why is it always graveyards? They're creepy as hell and, well... that's it. On the bright side, the Protection Spirits watching the gates recognize him and realize the danger he's in. Well, maybe he wasn't in real danger because the Bats and Birds don't really do the whole purposefully harming civilians things, but they are scary as hell! Chasing him down like a bat straight outta hell- obviously he was gonna run! They cornered him! Maybe he'll invest in getting them lessons in how to interact with people in and out of costume?

Honestly, Nightwing, Danny expected better of you. At least Red Hood and Signal know how to treat innocents.

Here's the thing about Protection and Guardian Spirits, though. They don't like intruders. If you're running from something and you don't have time to ask permission to enter, you best say "thank you" and bring them shiny things on your next visit. If you do have time to ask permission, you ask permission. If they think you're a threat or rude, they won't let you enter whatever they're guarding.

"Thank you," Danny said as he slowed to a walk further into the graveyard, the sound of the gates slamming closed behind him confirmation that the Bat and his gaggle wouldn't be following him in.

Wasting no time, Danny pulled a piece of chalk from his pocket. It was a handy little thing he'd picked up during his stay in the House of Mysteries. Draw and door, tell it where you wanna go, open it, and go through! Beetlejuice style. Though, unlike what the Handbook for the Recently Deceased says, these doors won't actually open a door to the afterlife. He fixed that tiny glitch a while ago.

Anyway, a quick few chalk lines on the side of a mausoleum later, and Danny was opening a door to Fawcett, Philadelphia. Probably not the best choice, considering that he was trying to stay away from the Justice League, but it's better than Metropolis.

"Whoa." Damn it! He should've stayed home. "What was that, mister?"

Danny made sure the door closed behind him, praying for strength. Why did he feel like several deities were laughing at him? "Hey, kid. Can you, um, maybe not say anything about that?"

The kid, short brown hair and a red jacket stood out the most to Danny for some reason, seemed very amused. "You're gonna have to buy my silence."

Again, Danny let out a quiet, long suffering sigh. "Coffee is so not worth it." Looking at the kid, he said, "Alright, fine. I was getting coffee anyway, I'll buy ya lunch. Know any good places?"

Grinning, the kid cheered, "Hell yeah! Follow me!"

Resigned, Danny followed after the kid, easily keeping pace. About a block later, he figured he should probably get the kid's name. "I'm Danny."

"Billy."

"No last name?"

"Fae rules, dude. What's your excuse?"

He had to give it to him. "Touché."

Another three blocks of walking, Billy finally stopped at a cafe. It was a quaint place with stained white brick and a dark grey roof. There were metal chairs and tables outside the building surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The table umbrellas and the awning over the black door were light blue, matching the curtains in the inside.

The inside walls were painted baby blue with a white ceiling and a pinewood floor. The tables and chairs were all stained black with light pink cushions and table cloths. The curtains, as observed before, were all baby blue, tied back with baby pink ribbons. The lights were barely yellow, giving the room a warm feel. The counters were white with black paneling on the outside and white granite as the tops.

"Welcome in," the young man at the register greeted with a smile, "What can I get you two started with today?"

Danny envied the man. He'd obviously not been doing this long enough to gain the veteran's shine to his eye. He turned to look at the menu after telling Billy to get whatever he wanted. A mistake he'll probably pay for. "I'd like a large Red Eye, equal parts coffee and espresso, with cinnamon, honey, chocolate syrup, mint, and vodka, please."

The 'newbie' light in the man's eyes dimmed a little bit. "Um, we don't carry vodka." Glad that's the only thing he's worried about. Priorities.

Danny clicked his tongue. "Oh, well, it was worth a shot. I'd like everything else, though, please. Mix it at your own discretion."

"Alright," he was very valiant to go back to grinning, "Anything else?"

Danny motioned for Billy and the kid stepped up. "Can I get a large mocha, three chocolate chip cookies, and two sandwiches?"

The blond entered the order. "Of course! That'll be $25.37." A quick card swipe from Danny. "Thank you very much, we'll have your order out to you soon!"

The two didn't say a word as they chose a table in the corner. Danny let Billy take the seat that was open to the rest of the cafe so he wouldn't feel cornered. He had a good view of the door, though, so he wasn't complaining.

"So, how'd you do that?" Billy asked after they'd gotten their orders.

"How'd I do what?" Danny sipped his drink.

"How'd you walk outta that wall? It's solid!"

"Magic."

"I guessed that much."

"Then why'd you ask?"

"Will you teach me?"

"No."

"You didn't even think about it!"

"Okay," He paused. "No."

"Not fair." he pouted.

Putting his drink on the table, Danny summed as much fake-it-till-you-make-it energy as he could. "Magic isn't a toy and takes years of practice to get a handle on, not to mention you have to actually have an aptitude for it before you can even try. Besides, I don't know you nearly well enough to trust you with anything else."

Billy finished the cookie he was eating. "I can do it! You just gotta teach me!"

Another sigh that Danny had stopped counting. "Look, you seem like a good kid, but I'm not gonna teach you magic."

"Why not!"

"However," he continued, ignoring the demand, "I'm not gonna leave ya fully defenselessness."

"What do you mean?" Billy backed away slightly, his eyes narrowing as he moved to be able to run quickly.

Another sip. "Based off of the dirt you're covered in, the grease in your hair, and the overall poor condition of your clothes, I'm gonna bet that you're a street kid. So," he pulled a small card from his pocket, very aware that Billy was watching his hand aptly, "I'm going to leave you with this."

Slowly, the brunet took it and turned it over. "What it is?"

The white card had the initials DP in the middle, circled by an Ouroboros. The initials were completely solid, but the snake of the Ouroboros was made up of tiny runes of protection and health and healing and good fortune.

"My calling card. If you're ever in danger, hold that to your chest and ask for help. I'll be there."

Still obviously suspicious, Billy took a moment to scrutinize the card. It was cute to watch the kid act like he knew what he was looking at or for. When he seemed satisfied, he shoved the card into the inner pocket sewn into his jacket. "Thanks."

"No problem, kid," Pulling out his phone, Danny saw the time and stood, "I've gotta go now. I assume I've sufficiently bought your silence on the whole magic thing?"

Billy grinned, "I guess, but you gotta come visit me, okay?"

He chuckled, "Sure thing. See ya."

Part 2 Part 4

(I don't drink coffee, so Idk how that shit works)

Tag list: @zaiothe4th

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wysteria-bloom · 8 months ago

Text

⚝ " i'll never smile again "

The hazbin boys are visibly stressed

Warnings : I used female pronouns. There are mentions of Valentino. Highly suggestive in Vox's part because yeah it makes sense. Alastor offers to go on a murderous rampage with the reader 🥰

Genre : Fluff, suggestive

A/n : I hate the people in my life and they stress me tf out so I'm writing to vent my frustrations out. :) I only included my favs in this one but if you would like a part two with other characters then say the word.

Characters : Alastor, Vox, Lucifer

▢ vox ᯤ

- Offering sexual favours -

Vox growled to himself gently as he typed away at the screen in front of him, eyes honing in obsessively on the words and news articles.

He was on media control right now because fucking Val blew up on Angel in public today.

Now he's forced to get rid of every media that is sculpting Valentino out to be the bad guy.

Whoopee fucking doo.

"Fuckin' Val... stupid idiot.... stupidly hot idiot." He sighed out, running his hands down his face tiredly then his eyes widened with an idea,"... Where's my assistant."

"Here, sir."

"Fuckin' christ-!" He yelped out at the sudden voice and he spun around quickly in his chair, coming face to face with her amused little shit-eating grin. He glared, scowl on his lips," You been there the whole time?"

"Yes, sir." She nodded, hands folded in her lap modestly.

"You're a little creep, y'know that?"

"Yes, sir."

He sighed and rolled his shoulders, wincing at the painful cracks that resounded from them," You seen the media?"

She nodded," yes, quite the 'clusterfuck' as you would put it."

His lip twitched in amusement," perfect descriptor, honestly." He then clicked his fingers at the screen," Is Troy on today? Tell him to deal with the rest of the articles pl-"

"It's Troy's day off today, sir." (Name) interrupted, walking so she was standing next to him, she leaned over him a little to click away at the tabs he had opened," But I will call him to come in. You need rest." She replied promptly.

Vox watched her with an almost sleepy look in his eyes, watching her close down the articles with quick and manicured claws.

"What would I do without you, eh?" He hummed out.

A chuckle flitted from her lips and he found himself entranced by the sound of it," I think you'd do well for yourself without me, sir." She reassured with a gentle voice and stepped away from the desk a little, turning to face him," would you like me to accompany you to your room?"

He blinked and then smirked," how forward of you, sweetheart." He cooed out with that sultry tone of his," Take me out to dinner first, yeah?"

She tilted her head to the side with an owlish blink,"... Would you like to go to dinner? Would that be a better form of stress relief for you that the first option?"

His mouth fell open with a shocked look as he stared at her, a little buffering symbol in the top right corner of his screen for a moment before it disappeared, a dark blush appearing on his face," f-fuck wait... w-were you suggesting we..."

"We have sex? Yes. I hear it's a rather fantastic way of stress relief and you are a rather sexually frustrated individual so it would-"

He place a hand over her mouth as he stood from his chair, basically towering over her.

There was a hungry look in his eyes as he let that charming grin twitch onto his lips," You're about the best damn fuckin' assistant I've ever had."

She smiled beneath his hand and grabbed onto his wrist gently, maneuvering it so she could place an oh-so-gentle kiss to his wrist whilst looking into his eyes," I'm honoured, sir." She hummed out in a sultry fashion.

Vox gulped, his self-control snapping, red leaking from his mouth," I'm gonna fuck the shit outta you."

"I wouldn't have it any other way, sir."

▢ alastor ⍋

- Expressing your issues over a glass of giggle juice -

A sigh and a huff fell from her lips as she made her way into the hotel lobby, shoulders sagging from a long day of work.

There seemed to be nobody in the lobby as she walked over to the bar and poured herself out a glass of whiskey.

"Late-night drinking? That's not like you." The familiar static of Alastor graced her ears.

(Name) blinked and looked over to him, noticing how tensed his smile seemed. His eyes looked... genuinely exhausted. His ears flopped downwards ever so slightly.

"Looks like you should be joining me," She hummed back and grabbed another glass, wiggling it at him suggestively.

He watched it for a second before relaxing and grabbing it, sitting next to her at the bar and pouring the liquid. He took a sip with her and his smile seemed to curl in a more soft way now.

"Hm, I dare say my dear, that does just hit the spot doesn't it?" He hummed out, a more relaxed expression on his face.

"You can say that again. No wonder Husk is an alcoholic, I understand the appeal after having an awful day." She replied with a nod of agreement," yknow, sometimes I wish Hell was just a personal purgatory instead of me having to deal with other people's shit."

"Agreed. It gets tiring, doesn't it? Makes you want to go a little batshit insane, yes?" He said this with a polite tone of voice, ears perked up.

"I want to go on a murderous rampage every second of every day."

"We could join forces if it ever came to that. We would kill twice the amount of demons."

She grinned at him," how flattering. You'd go on a murder spree with me, Al?"

He pressed a hand to his heart to express his genuine sincerity," Dear, if I ever say no to a question like that then I give you my full and utter permission to kill me in the most brutal way you can think of." He replied honestly, and (name) didn't know whether to be flattered or concerned but she found herself laughing along anyways.

"What a charmer," She grinned at him brightly," You can be so romantic when you want to, hm?"

"Romance has nothing to do with it. It is merely etiquette." He tilted his head at her, resting it in the palm of his hand, expression seemingly brightened from just a conversation with her," what's got you so downtrodden?"

She deflated a little, smile tired," Overworked and under-appreciated for the work I do." She replied simply, taking a sip of her whiskey," I'll never smile again~" She sang sadly.

Alastor perked up at the familiar song," until I smile at youuu~" he serenaded, smile only widening at the sound of her amused laughter.

Then he looked her over, an almost disappointed glint in his eyes," I still wonder why you work for that insolent shitbox after all these years." His smile seemed to sharpen at the thought of Vox," He doesn't deserve you at all. Not a single bit."

(Name) shrugged," I'm helpless, what can I say?"

"You're not. You're a strong woman, (name). Stand up for yourself. And if you can't stand?" His eyes glowed sinisterly," Break his legs off so you can."

She stared on for a second before raising her glass," Most sound advice I've heard for years."

Alastor barked out an amused laugh and raised his hlass to hers, "For that compliment? I will break his legs for you if it is needed, darlin'. "

Clink went their glasses as they enjoyed each other's company for a while longer.

▢ lucifer morningstar ⚝

- Gentle caresses and positive affirmations -

"Okay so... meeting with the angels next week... then I have to call Michael- eugh cowabummer... then I have to-"

(Name) watched her friend flail around his office with a concerned frown on her lips, arms crossed over her chest.

He's been so stressed lately. He had that little break in between where he could just... chill.

And make his cute rubber duckies.

But now with everything in the hotel, he's had a lot more work on his shoulders. Specifically with Heaven, as unfortunate as that was.

She saw his claws scratching through his hair as he paced back and forth, as though he was entranced by all these... issues. He's so entranced he's forgotten she's there with him.

So she sighed and lifted herself from the wall and walked into his walk-cycle path, grabbing onto his shoulders before he could crash into her.

He blinked in surprise and met eyes with her, a dumbfounded expression on his face," Oh... Hey."

She smiled," Hey."

"Sorry, you've probably heard me complain enough lately. Your pretty ears must be burning with all the yapping-"

"Of course not, Lou..." She huffed out, interrupting him with a frown of disapproval. Her hands moved from his shoulders to his arms, rubbing gentle touches of comfort," I think you've got too much on your plate lately - you using me as an outlet to vent to is the least of my problems."

He deflated a little, a tiredly wry grin on his lips," You're... you're too nice, y'know that?"

"What? You'd rather I spit and degrade you~?" She flirted teasingly with a fanged grin.

"No thanks... for now." He then sighed and moved his head to rest on her chest, cheek smooshing against her collar bone," I need a vacation."

(Name) laughed as she threaded her fingers through his mussed-up hair gently and soothingly," You were basically on a vacation already, hon. Now's the time to get back to work. Put all those wonderful thoughts and dreams to good use."

He melted in her arms, closing his eyes slowly as he wrapped his arms around her waist. This felt more domestic than platonic, but the two of them were too focused on eachother to admit that.

"You'll stay, right? I like having you here." He mumbled tiredly," U-unless you don't wanna which I totally understand and a-accept... y'know, you don't have to be here if you don't want t-"

"Stop worrying you dummy." (Name) chuckled out,"... I'd love to stay here with you."

"Phew..." He huffed and grinned sharply," Good to hear... a-amazing to hear!... Y... you're the best."

"Don't I know it~!"

#alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor x reader #lucifer x y/n #lucifer x reader #lucifer x you #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x y/n #vox x y/n #vox x you #vox x reader #vox x valentino #im sad and tired #writing can only save me from the bleak reality that is life

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angelic--kitty · 2 months ago

Note

Hear Me Out- Werewolf Arlecchino- Omegaverse- KNOT... (Along with Size/height difference)...

Now I'm outta here.

knotting w/ werewolf!arlecchino

warnings: smut (mdni), transfem!arlecchino x sub!fem reader, penetration, size difference, knotting, biting, omegaverse dynamics, 'sir' for arle

a/n: happy 1st day of october!! i never participate in kinktober, but i feel like i should so... excuse my lateness. i will make a little schedule for myself and release it later today mwah 💋💋💋

you had never imagined your generally put-together girlfriend could ever become something so... aggressive.

you'd say desperate, but that adjective is far too fitting for the position you stand in now. or, rather, beneath her.

your ass is perched up in the air, her claws poking into your skin as she growls, fucking you back against her onto her cock. 'she's big' is just about the only thing running through your mind with every thrust.

it's noisy, it's messy, and the scent penetrates the entirety of your bedroom. you moan for her, listening to her soft grunts and mumbles about finally being able to take you in this form.

you hadn't known what a full, blood moon would do to her. but by the archons, was she unapologetic. the feeling of your cunt squeezing around her was enough to make her wish she could always be in this form. despite the adjustment your poor little pussy had to make, it was clear you were wetter than usual.

she brings you back down to earth with a hand around the back of your neck, her chest pressed to your skin. "darling-" she heaves. "i cannot hold on much longer... i need to know if i have your permission." she grits her teeth, ensuring your comfort despite her wicked desires.

you nod repeatedly, pathetically, begging her to knot you. aren't you so sweet? pleading for her to stretch you further than you've ever been. asking her to break you, to ruin you.

why, she just couldn't pass that offer up and deny a sweet thing like you, now could she?

she slams her hips into yours, her knot knocking against your cunt as she teases you, pushing further everytime until she finally presses it into you.

you cry out her name, trying to escape her firm hold, only for her to lean down and latch her teeth onto your shoulder. "sit still-" she grumbles, her hand spanning your hip as she fills you impossibly deeper.

"too much-! can't-" you wail, feeling her lap over the bite wound, finally popping her knot snugly inside of you before she came. "oh-" your protests disappeared as you felt the warmth fill you, settling into your belly as you go lax for her.

she snakes her hand to your front, stroking the bulge she makes before two fingers slide to your clit. she rubs circles, ensuring she brings you to climax one more time before settling the both of you on your sides.

she gently laps at your sweaty skin, leaving little butterfly kisses. "full..." you softly whine, shifting around, only for her to hold you still.

"hush," she kisses your cheek, squeezing your hip. "we'll be stuck like this for... some time. i suggest you close your eyes and rest. i will wake you when it is time to clean up."

you look up at her, eyes wide. "you did well." she praises you, kissing your forehead. "sleep."

as you close your eyes, her breath ghosts across your cheek. "i'll let you know when i'm ready to continue."

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hoshigray · 1 year ago

Text

Pleasurable Practice

Here's what I got: when you're left in headquarters to study for an upcoming language skit, your boss and work crush, Miguel O'Hara, does what he can to help his subordinate. And he does, in more ways than one...

A/n: It's been a week since I saw the film in theaters, and my brain hasn't been the same. I tried very hard not to write for this man, but here we are. Sighhhh, I swear I wasn't this bad when playing EoT (curse you Oscar Issac, and the ATSV art department!!!). And it doesn't help that my social feeds are full of him...Anyway, I hope you enjoy this piece! It's WAY longer than I wanted, but I guess that's meant to show how much fun I had writing, hehehe~. Also, ty so so much for 600+ followers!!

Cw: Miguel x fem!reader - some ATSV spoilers so tread carefully - sexual context so minors DNI - fingering (fem! receiving) - cunnilingus - clitoral play (Miguel's fangs lightly brush your clit, but doesn't bite it) - praise - kisses on the stomach - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love; vida/my life) - sexual acts in public - outside intrusions, but you two don't get caught.

Wc: 2.8k

"Hey, Lyla. You sure you wanna leave me here?"

"Aww, you scared something would happen without me?" She chuckles when you shrug. "You'll be fine; everything's been taken care of for today. If something pops outta nowhere, you know where to find Miguel or give me a call. Alright, I'm outta here. Cya tomorrow~."

"Bye, Lyla~" With that, the pixelated woman signs off from your line of sight, and you slump into your chair with a sigh.

It's late at night in Nueva York. The Spider Society headquarters is still active, but fewer people occupy the halls and sectors in these late hours, you being one of them. You're sitting at a conference table by the teleportation room, taking in Margo's shift. But since things are quiet around here, you use this time to work on your homework.

Well, you would've if a pair of hands didn't suddenly come from behind and blocked your vision. "Guess who?"

You shake your head with a smile. "Aren't you supposed to be at Earth-50101 hanging with Gwen and Pav?"

The hands are removed, giving your shoulders a quick rub. "Can't say a quick bye before I'm off?" Hobie Brown walks from behind to sit on the table, avoiding the scattered papers on the surface. "What's all this? School?"

"Yeah," You pick up a paper with color-coordinated dialogues. " I got a reflection to finish and need to read this script for a skit in my modern language class on Wednesday."

"What language?"

"Spanish." You flip the script for him to look at. A giggle slips from you. "Suppose you can't help me, huh?"

Hobie grins. "Yo lo haría si pudiera." Your eyes go big. Of course, the guy who "doesn't believe in consistency" would know a thing or two about other languages.

".....Please stay and help me."

"Can't, perhaps next time." Another heavy sigh as the tall other gets up from the table and opens a portal to Pavitr's universe. "We'll save some snacks to bring back tomorrow. See ya then."

"Bye, Hobie." You groan with your head meeting the table surface as the portal vanishes with Hobie's dismissal. In despair, you lift your head up and proceed with your work.

It's about 11 p.m., and you were able to finish your paper in about two hours. It's now time to work on your Spanish script. Unfortunately, your class partner can't be here (obviously) to say his lines with you, but you two promised to highlight your lines and recite on your own downtime. So you follow through with the blue lines — your lines — avoiding the red lines and announcing all the words to the best you can.

After the third time around, you start to get to the rhythm of it. So in tune with what you're doing, you don't mind your surroundings as you circle around the table with your face glued to your script.

"What're you doing?"

However, it all comes to a halt when a voice startles you. So used to the silence and your own tone that you didn't notice a familiar man creep from behind you. Your eyes widen at the tall and well-built figure before you.

Miguel O'Hara, Spider-Man 2099 and the leader of the Spider Society — your boss who you have a major crush on and is still waiting for you to reply after nearly scaring you to death.

"O-Oh, Miguel, umm," you quickly straighten yourself up, but the heat in your face encroaches. "Sorry, didn't see ya there. I was just looking at this script."

"A script?" He slightly tilts his head, surveying your moves as you sit back at the table. He follows and peers behind your shoulder to see what you're working on. "For what?"

"It's for a skit in my Spanish class. I'm reciting my lines for Wednesday." He nods at your answer, glancing around to see you're alone. "Lyla signed off for a while, but she told me to tell you that if you 'need anyone to put a leash on you,' Jessica would answer the call."

The man narrowed his eyes and sucked his teeth, "of course she said that..." was all he murmured under his breath from his pixelated peer's words. With a heavy sigh, he turns back to the paper in your hand and extends out his. His silent request is answered when you pass him the sheet to skim. A brow is lifted. "Is the skit like some kind of married couple or—"

You confirm. "Yes. Our unit is on relationships, and my partner and I wanted to do a skit where the husband — my partner — comes home and surprises his wife with their favorite flower and then gives a nice speech on how much he loves her." Miguel still reads the script, but you continue on. "Luckily, our instructor said it's not our final where it's required to talk entirely in Spanish. So, we can say some English phrases or words if our brains go blank."

Miguel finally stops examining the script and eyes at you. "I can help."

Huh? "Excuse me?"

"You're the blue lines, right?" Correct. "Then I can be the red lines and help you practice."

Wait, no! "Oh no, there's no need for that, Miguel! I'm sure you're busy looking at the screens on your station and—"

"No pasa nada, Y/n," You gulp when he grabs a chair and sits close to you. "I'll say your partner's parts, and you reply with yours." There's no use in arguing with him out of this, so you just follow suit.

For the past thirty minutes, you and Miguel have been practicing. Sometimes he'll call you out on words you forget or mispronounce, which hurts your little heart being scolded like a child. But then there are times when he praises you for saying something correctly without second-guessing, or he'll ask for a pen to scratch off something and write a better phrase for you to say. And you can tell that your memorization's been improving thanks to his help. Maybe there was no need to be nervous.

The time is now 11:46, and you feel way more confident about this skit than before. Miguel can also tell by how much you've performed that you'll do fine on Wednesday. Guess that should do it. He puts the script down and gets up, heading back to his original post.

"Hey, wanna do the actual skit with me?"

Huh? "What?"

"Well, I was thinking," You squeak. "Maybe we can try acting out the skit without the paper now that I'm kinda getting the hang of it? But, I mean, that's only if you're okay with it, ya know..."

His brows trench down. Miguel knows he shouldn't do it; there are many universes in his post that he needs to keep an eye on in case anything pops off. He can't afford to just act out a scenario for some class. However, when he glances back at you, he faces mixed feelings. Your eyes look at his, nibbling on your bottom lip, and your fingers fidget with each other as you wait for his answer.

Miguel knows he shouldn't...but it won't hurt to comply this one time.

"Fine," your heart skips when he turns back to face you fully. "But don't mention it to Lyla or Jess. I'll never hear the end of it from those two."

"Of course!" You reassure him as you ready yourself, mentally calming the happiness brewing inside down. "You go."

He nods and plays the scene. He acts like he opens a door and holds an imaginary object. "Estoy en casa, cariño."

"Oh, bienvenido a casa, bebé!" You rush to Miguel and give him a hug. You feel him go rigid, and you freeze. Wait, he's still my boss and not my actual partner! Oh, God, I bet he regrets doing this now...Ughhh!! Commit now, cry later!

You quickly improvise and pull him by his spider suit to come close, placing pretend kisses on his cheeks. "Llegas pronto a casa, mi guapo muñeco. Is something wrong?"

Miguel stares at you for a few seconds before he blinks and coughs. "Ahem, Querida, vine temprano porque es tu cumpleaños. Y quería darte esto." The hand with the invisible object comes up, and you take it.

"Dios mío, ¿mi flor favorita en mi día especial?" You give the man a warm smile and place a hand on his cheek, stroking his skin lovingly. Miguel hitches his breath. "Eres demasiado buena conmigo, muñeco. Pero no tenías que regalarme nada."

It takes Miguel a moment, but he coughs once more and returns to the task. "Puede que la flor no fuera necesaria, pero tenía que conseguirla para ti, mi amor." He puts a hand on yours that's still on his cheek, now it's your turn to slow your breathing. "Cada vez que veo esta flor, sólo puedo pensar en ti. No sólo hoy, sino todos los días. Veo todo lo que haces por mí y nunca lo doy por sentado. You are my everything, Y/n. Tú eres mi mundo. Mi luz. Mi corazón. Mi… Mi…"

He stops, noticing your expression and shallow breaths. Your eyes never leave his, mouth agape, and your attention entirely on his words— no, on him. Even in this little act, you dare not move or say something out of turn. Listening to the man before you intently, your hand still in his.

He knows he shouldn't, but Miguel leans into you, and a small gasp leaves you before his lips press onto your soft ones. "....Mi alma."

Your brain short-circuits, the feel of his lips overtaking you. You awkwardly kiss him back, resulting in a moan from Miguel. He grabs your waist while pushing himself forward, making you walk backwards until you hit the table. The bump has you two break the kiss, forcing you back to reality.

Miguel says nothing, and so do you, your eyes honing in on his deep red orbs. Your thoughts go too fast that your head pounds. What? What was that? Did he mean to do that??

"Túmbate."

He captures your attention. "What?"

"Lie down, mi amor." He commands in a stern voice. Hesitance restrains you, yet you still follow orders and sit on the table with your back to the surface. A small smile creeps up on Miguel, and he leans down to plant more kisses on your sweet lips. "Good. Now, say your part."

Slow smooches from your chin to your neck leave you breathless. Although the heat in your face is unbearable, you play along and stick to the script. "My wonderful husband...Y...You are so thought—"

"Se supone que está en español, Y/n." He corrects you. Lifting your shirt to reveal your abdomen. Miguel kisses your exposed tummy while his hand snakes past your bottoms, pressing a finger down on the wet spot of your clothed vulva. Your toes curl as your first moan leaves puffy lips. "Try again."

You intake a deep breath. "Ere...Eres muy considerado con—Mmmm....conmigo." Your bottoms and undergarments are now off, your bare cunt out for Miguel to see. The older man props your legs upward with both hands as he brings his face close to your pussy. He lightly blows on it, and you bite your lip from the cold air. "Keep going, mi vida."

"Cuando....no haya luz en mi—Oooh!!" Miguel flicks your clitoris with his tongue before nestling it between your soaked folds, sucking and laving your essence. "Nnnmp! Mi-Miguel, I can't do thisss...Your tongue, it feels so, so—Oh Christ..."

His ruby eyes peek at your face. "But you were doing just fine, Y/n." The way he says your name feels so sinful, so forbidden. But so pleasing to the ears. "Repeat it."

His tongue goes back to torment your slit. The risque noises the wet muscle makes with your slick-covered chasm ring your eardrums. Ecstatic whimpers fill the space around you, and you grab tufts of Miguel's brown hair when his tongue flicks your clit again. He's impatient, so you concede.

"Cuando no haya luz en mi vida....Haaaahhh, sé que estarás ahí para protegerme." Miguel pushes your tender bud against his teeth. His canine brushing on your pearl, causing you to jerk. "Eres mi sombra...Mi—Ahhhh!....escudo....Mi rey."

He chortles, "Good job, mi alma."

Satisfied with your cooperation, the man sucks on your precious sex as his forefinger nestles between your folds, your slick providing lubricant to naturally push his digit through your entrance. You jolt with a sharp cry, tears falling from your beautiful face.

His tongue and fingers go faster, and your release climbs higher with every lick. The stimulation of your poor cunt and clitoris is hardcore that you come in a few seconds, the walls of your chasm fluttering around Miguel's fingers coated with your personal fluids.

Your heavy pants slow down to steady your body that subsides from the aftershocks of your orgasm. Miguel withdraws his mouth and fingers from you, standing upright to take in your figure.

He scoffs with a tiny grin, licking his lips. "Amorcito."

You open your mouth to say something, but a flash of colors and shapes captures the attention of both of you. Your eyes go wide. Oh no, someone's coming!

With haste, you immediately grab for your bottoms and underwear before taking cover under the conference table, using it to quickly put your clothes back on before someone enters through the portal. That someone was Jessica Drew, making her arrival known by revving her motorbike.

"Jess," Miguel puts on his usually serious face. But on the inside, he's almost as nervous as you. Because he swiftly pulls a chair out to cover his erection lower regions.

"Hey, Miguel! I thought I'd find you here." The woman addresses him when she's done a lap around the table. Her portal vanishes from the scene. "I've been trying to call you through your watch. You not wearing it?"

He looks down at his wrist where it was supposed to be. "...I was using the restroom, so I left it on my station."

"Mmm, I figured." Jessica then notices the paper and backpack on the table. "This is Y/n's stuff, right? Where are they?"

"R-Right here, Jess!" To her surprise, you come out from the table with your bottoms fully secured. "Sorry, I was looking for my pen before packing up." You smile to ease the awkward tension and your racing heart.

"Oh, okay then." Jessica nods to your words and turns to Miguel. "Anyway, I was calling you up because I need backup. The guy I was dealing with somehow switched places with another villain. Took care of the other one, but my guy's elsewhere."

He hums. "Lyla."

"That's me." The yellow-pixelated woman with pink heart-shaped glasses appears once more.

"Where are the coordinates of the anomaly Jess was handling?"

"I'm sorry, you want me to do what?"

"...."

"What's the magic word?" The tiny woman teases him while you and Jessica hold in your laughs.

Miguel's brows furrow with a slight pout. "....Canyoupleasesend—"

"Woah, woah, woah," Lyla gets closer to his face with each word, raising his irritation as she does so. "Little too fast there."

"Can you please give us the co—"

"Already gave it to Jess."

"Then what was the point—"

"You know how much I love to pester ya," her smile doesn't help squander his frustration, not when he also hears the exchanged giggles between you and Jessica. "And call that payback for not having your watch on you."

To avoid their eyes seeing Miguel's situation, he leaves and fetches his watch quickly after being repeatedly teased by the two women. He returns ready with his mask on and the device on his wrist. Lyla and Jess are waiting for him, same with you and all your stuff packed up. It's 12 in the morning now, you have to get home. "Ready?"

"Yup, see ya there." The woman on her bike starts it up. Lyla disappears when the dimension is opened. "Bye, Y/n!"

"Bye, Jess!" You wave goodbye to the woman, who does one final lap before entering the portal to her new destination. And now you're back to being alone with Miguel, who you find looking at you. You gulp and say your thoughts. "Don't worry, I didn't tell them! And, sorry that it happened. I was being a little too close to you in the first—"

"Hey." Miguel lifts a hand to stop you from rambling on further, and you listen. "Your skit. When is it again?"

It takes you aback that he asks, but you still reply. "Wednesday?"

"Hm. Alright then." And with that, he walks to the portal to his next mission. But before he exits, he peers from his shoulder and proclaims something.

"Tell me how you did on Wednesday, then we'll continue with this talk."

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steddie-as-they-come · 1 year ago

Text

sequel to my roommate steddie au!! here's the first part! tags have changed, it's now more mature with some fade to black sex

Steve’s so warm. It’s not fair.

Eddie must have half his wardrobe on, tucked under all the blankets on his bed, and Steve is just sitting over there, in a T-shirt and thin sweatpants, like the jackass he is.

"You look cold." Steve says, shifting a bit.

Eddie glares at him. "No shit, Sherlock," he bites out, trying to reign in his temper. All things considered, Steve's a pretty great roommate, sharing his food and his children with Eddie. It's not his fault the college decides to let their students freeze to death.

Steve, to his credit, just laughs at him. "Okay, fine. I was gonna offer for you to come hang out over here, since you're over the vent and I'm not, but if you're gonna be like that-"

Eddie practically teleports out of bed. "No! No, please, Steve, did I ever mention how great your hair looks today and how kind you are to me-"

Steve laughs again, moving out of the way and patting the bed next to him. Eddie doesn't hesitate to scurry up and tuck himself into a little cocoon of his own blankets, trying not to bump Steve's arm as he focuses on his homework. He doesn't completely succeed, and his hand brushes against Steve's bare arm.

"What the fuck?" he says loudly. "Why are you the temperature of a campfire?"

Steve shrugs. "I've always run hot." he says. "It's great during winter movie nights because everyone piles on top of me, but then I get banished during summer movie nights, which is no fun."

Eddie's already sprawled over his shoulder, sighing happily, like some kind of lizard on a sunlit rock. If August Eddie could see him now, he'd try to smack the shit outta him for falling for a straight guy. One who was his roommate, no less.

But it's hard not to when Steve is kind, and accepting, and a little bit stupid, and hot as hell. It isn't like he just tolerates Eddie's physical affection either, he seems to welcome it. Steve even started initiating it, wrapping an arm around Eddie's shoulders, grabbing his arm to haul him out of particularly big crowds, and the hugs. Steve loves hugs.

There's a darkness to Steve too, the way he moves, the way he's always checking over his shoulder, flinching at flickering lights, always ready for a fight.

It makes Eddie wonder if Steve is like him.

Eddie wiggles a bit, adjusting his chin to prop on Steve's shoulder. "Whatcha workin' on?" he asks, just to be nosy.

Steve rolls his eyes, leaning away. "None of your business." he teases.

Eddie misses the warmth as soon as Steve's gone. "Nooooo," he whines. "Come back. I won't look!"

Steve stays leaned away, raising his eyebrows. "You're so weird." he says. It's not in a mean way, more that he's bewildered that one person can be this strange. Eddie takes this as a compliment.

He pretends to freeze to death, jerking and flinching. "It's...so cold." he mutters. "I see...the light... All because my roommate...let me freeze to death..."

Finally, Steve's blissful warmth comes back, and Steve sighs, tapping his pen against his paper. Eddie tries to peek again, and recognizes familiar words.

"Is that a character sheet?" he yells, and Steve frowns at him.

"You said you wouldn't look!"

Eddie waves him off, grabbing for the sheet. "Steve, this is D&D. It's automatically my business when it's D&D."

Steve finally hands it over. "Fine. Yes, it's a character sheet. Dustin's birthday is next Monday, and I was gonna ask you if I could join your game as a present to him."

Eddie nods, inspecting the sheet. Dustin's been begging for Steve to join basically since they started their little arrangement, where Eddie DM's for them in exchange for no more open hostility in the dorms. It may have worked a little too well, given Eddie's budding crush, but c'est la vie.

Eddie hands it back. "You are supposed to give the DM the character sheet a couple days in advance so they have time to work you into the plot."

Steve winces. "Really? Shit, I didn't know that."

"It's fine, I got some ideas, just from looking it over. You can borrow a spare set of dice and one of my miniatures too."

"Oh good, I had no idea if I needed any of that stuff."

"Do you want me to do a little crash course for you?" Eddie asks, preparing to brave the cold to grab his little homemade handbook.

Steve gives him a deadpan look. "Are you kidding me? Dustin is gonna love being better than me at this. I might as well go in with a regular six-sided die and pretend I thought that's the one I needed."

Eddie laughs. "Fair enough." The cold touches his neck and he burrows back into his blankets. "This fucking sucks, by the way. The cold."

"You're a big baby, man. It's fine."

"Ah, yes. Forgot I live with a walking, talking furnace." Eddie rolls his eyes, muttering, "This is worse than the time I was left outside in the cold."

"Wait, what?" Steve turns to him, eyes flinty like steel. "You were...what?"

"Oh. Um." Eddie's not sure how much to reveal, but he figures it had to come out eventually. "My dad left me out in the cold when I was thirteen. I think he thought it'd fix me. I just got really sick, though." He laughs humorlessly.

"You said...fix you?" Steve says, and Eddie's heart drops. He backs away from Steve before starting to talk, trying to find something to defend himself with if Steve gets mad.

"Yeah." Eddie says. "He saw me...kissing a boy."

Steve's eyes widen, and then he scoots closer. Eddie's breath hitches.

"Me too." Steve whispers.

Now it's Eddie's turn to be shocked. Steve continues. "Not...not left outside in the cold. They'd need to be home long enough for that. But...bisexual. I like girls and guys."

There's a tense, charged silence in the room. Eddie draws up all his courage. "I like you, Steve."

Steve stares at Eddie’s lips. “Can I-” he whispers breathlessly.

Eddie, seemingly just as entranced, nods, and Steve leans forward, pressing his lips against Eddie. Almost unconsciously, Eddie tilts his head, deepening the kiss, and Steve hums happily.

Eddie’s tongue swipes at the sealed lines of Steve’s lips. Steve freezes, then slowly, tentatively, opens his mouth.

Give him an inch and he’ll take a mile. Eddie practically pulls Steve down towards him, hands greedily exploring every inch of Steve he could reach. Steve gladly returns the favor, sneaking his hands between Eddie’s back and the mattress so he can feel the muscles lining Eddie’s spine flex and move as Eddie kisses him stupid.

Eddie pulls back, breaking the kiss. Steve whines, actually whines, and dives back in, but Eddie stops him with a gentle hand on his chest.

He kisses the corner of Steve’s mouth, and Steve chases it, leaning subtly towards Eddie, but Eddie just keeps moving, kissing a trail from his mouth to his chin, to the soft skin where Steve's jawline blends into his neck. Steve keeps moving, running his hands up and down Eddie’s back just for something to do.

Eddie reaches the small curve where his shoulder meets his neck, and Steve feels a small scrape of teeth against his skin. He whimpers.

“Oh?” Eddie says, the first thing he’s said since Steve leaned in. His voice is raspy, and Steve privately thinks it's the hottest fucking thing in the world. “There?”

He kisses there again, but this time there's no teeth, and Steve stays quiet, breathing slowly, in and out, in and out.

“Or…did you like it when I did this?”

Eddie leans forward and nips at Steve’s collar, and Steve keens. “Eddieee…” he says, dragging the vowels out too long, leaving that name hanging in the air.

Eddie tilts his head back up and captures Steve’s lips in another kiss, tongue sliding into Steve’s mouth smoothly. He kisses for a few seconds, then readjusts and gently nips at Steve’s lower lip.

“Please, please Eddie,” Steve begs breathlessly, not even sure what he's pleading for. Eddie seems to get it though, and slides his hands under his shirt to cup Steve’s waist.

Steve laces his hands through Eddie's hair and pulls, and Eddie lets out a moan, pushing Steve off of him and rolling so he's on top, enjoying the feeling of Steve under him on the mattress.

"I've never been so glad for the cold," he whispers against Steve's lips, and kisses him again.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #college au #stranger things #steddie fanfiction #steddie fic #i am not brave enough to write actual smut yet. so fade to black it is

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goldfades · 7 months ago

Note

headcannons of you being a media girl for the team and KK constantly annoying you and pulling you with her to make tiktoks

you cannot tell me that kk wouldn’t be all up in that camera

“welcome to the kk arnold show-“

“ KK GIMME MY DAMN CAMERA!”

𝐔𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍 𝐖𝐁𝐁 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐑!𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

─ warnings | nothing but light banter, pretty much nothing else?

─ taglist | @xocherishxo @iienstein @yazmunson @euphternal and here's a link to my taglist if anyone would like to join!!

─ ev's notes | so instead of like media girl hc's, i'm gonna do manager, it's basically the same thing except manager kinda does everything, it's not limited to photos and social media. it's BASICALLY the same just more of an umbrella term LOL, i hope y'all enjoyed!

you've been the manager for the women's bb team since freshman year and let's just say it's SO chaotic but very rewarding

and yes, you're so right

kk would force you to be in the videos and you're all like force smiling, looking like you're being held hostage

everyone in the comments are SCREECHING cus your answers are always so hilarious and they all love you

"who has the best music taste on the team OTHER THAN YOU?" "other than me?????" "yeah.." "no one, i have the best one"

but people love you sm

i feel like they'd make compilations of you interacting with the team (in specifically the tiktoks bc they're funny af)

eventually people coin the term... "y/n and her toddlers"

you're like the mom of the team (obviously cus ur the manager) but like in more ways than just one

like the freshman first start to open up to you, every comes to you for advice, etc etc

they all just ADORE you

cus who wouldn't?

since you're in charge of the social medias, you FEED the paige bueckers girlies

you take so many pictures of our girl and everyone on tiktok loves u for it

on the buses to games, oh god bless u

especially the really long car rides, everyone will do anything but sleep when the only thing you're tryna do is sleep

LIKE EVERYTHING, they will bring cases of redbull bc they swearrrrr it's team bonding

(they just wanna shit talk everyone they know)

they drag you into everything, especially like if two (or multiple) of the girls are having problems bc you usually know how to deal with them

they adore you yes, but they also fear the fuck outta you

so you make them sit down and talk it out (with you + any seniors at the time to make sure they actually do) then BOOM it's fixed

again, you're like their mom

here's a little snippet of what it's like being their manager 😗

──

"Hey y'all, welcome back to the KK Arnold show! Today we're gonna go interview the mysterious Y/N," KK shouted as she looked at the camera with a smile, beginning to walk to the sidelines of the empty court. She gestured to keep walking until they eventually reach you.

You looked up to meet the camera with a confused smile as you setup your camera. KK couldn't help but let out a laugh, causing you to shake your head in amusement.

"Everyone wanted to have an interview with you, how do you feel about that?" KK finally got out after she stopped laughing, unable to maintain a straight face at your confused expression.

You laughed softly, adjusting the camera before responding, "Uh... well you know, it's part of the job."

KK shook her head dramatically as the camera zooms in on her face, "She hates you guys, Y/N is a D1 hater-"

"No, oh my god shut up!" You laughed as KK gave you a mock glare. "I love you guys."

"How do you feel about the edits?" KK held in her laugh as she glanced back at you then the camera, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Of... Paige?"

KK shook her head, "No, of you."

"There are edits of me?" You couldn't but laugh as you shook your head, taking a seat on the bench as you finished up setting up your film camera.

"Yeah, the people are going feral." KK smirked, clearly enjoying your reaction. "Oh don't act like you haven't seen them, we send them to you on the groupchat."

You glared at KK before she bursted out laughing, putting up her hands in surrender. "Bro, leave me alone."

"No, you signed up for this when you became manager." KK joked as you held in your laugh with a thin-lipped scowl, pretending to be annoyed.

Before you could respond, Paige and Nika walked out to the court and KK waved them over. "Guys, Y/N's being a hater again."

"Aw, be nice to the freshman, Y/N." Paige joked as she joined you on the bench. KK sent her a glare as you and Paige laughed, Nika joining you two on the bench with a grin.

You shot KK a playful glare, though the corners of your lips couldn't help but twitch upwards. " Yeah, freshman privileges only go so far, KK. Don't push your luck."

"Bro," KK sighed exasperatedly as all three of you laughing. "Anyways back to the interview, how do you feel about the Paige edits?"

You and Paige glanced at each other before Paige began laughing. "Actually, as an veteran-edit watcher, they're really good. I don't know about the audios though, they're not very cordial."

"Oh my god, Y/N watched the KK Arnold show confirmed?" KK gasped as laughed loudly, joined by Nika and Paige.

"Bro, I recorded that video."

KK's smile dropped as she dramatically side eyed the camera and gestured toward her neck. "Cut the cameras, cut the damn cameras."

The camera didn't cut, it zoomed on all three of you laughing loudly. KK tried to maintain a serious expression before she sighed dramatically, "the haters are gonna keep hating."

"Facebook ass quote," Paige mumbled as you began laughing even harder, feeling your stomach beginning to hurt as tears began to build in your eyes.

"Oh you really wanna play with me right now," KK joked as she stormed toward you and Paige as the camera cut dramatically.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#wcbb x reader #wcbb #uconn #uconn wbb #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball #paige bueckers #nika muhl #kk arnold #ice brady #nika muhl x reader #paige bueckers x reader #ncaa women’s basketball #ncaaw #uconn wbb manager ★

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noahsresources · 1 year ago

Text

PROMPTS FOR MUSES WHO ARE LITTLE SHITS™ !

for all the muses out there who like to mess with others!! mainly meant for platonic relationships, but can be used for romantic & antagonistic relationships as well! feel free to modify any pronouns, descriptor words, & objects for your needs!

FROM THE LITTLE SHIT.

words. ❝ how'd you like the fake spider in your room? ❞ ❝ hang on a second, i'm gonna record this — ❞ ❝ i took 20 bucks out of your bag last night. ❞ ❝ alright, that's it, time for the tickle monster treatment! ❞ ❝ oh, yeah? and what are you gonna do about it? ❞ ❝ i think i might have accidentally just hurt myself again. ❞ ❝ what makes you think you can possibly take me? ❞ ❝ outta the way, i was here first! ❞ ❝ sorry, i lost that a little while ago. ❞ ❝ hey, come on! it was just a prank! ❞ ❝ i'm seriously thinking about forcing that secret out of you. ❞ ❝ wait, did YOU say you wanted the last piece of pie in the fridge? 'cause i kinda just ate it ... ❞

actions. [ SING ] — sender starts singing raunchy lyrics around receiver [ WRESTLE ] — sender attempts to start play-fighting with receiver [ FINGER ] — sender flips receiver the bird [ LAUGH ] — sender tries to make receiver laugh [ LEAN ] — sender puts their full weight on receiver [ COLD ] — sender puts their cold fingers under receiver's shirt [ DRIVE ] — sender begins to drive very fast with receiver in the car with them [ FOOD ] — sender steals a bite of receiver's food when they're not looking [ BLANKET ] — sender pulls receiver's blanket off them while they're half-asleep [ PRANK ] — sender pulls a prank on receiver (bonus points if a type of prank is specified!)

FOR THE LITTLE SHIT.

words. ❝ hey, stop that! ❞ ❝ careful, i just got that new furniture. ❞ ❝ okay, okay, i'll do anything, just please stop tickling me ... ! ❞ ❝ god, you're such an asshole! ❞ ❝ i swear, if you do that one more time ... ❞ ❝ i didn't actually think it was that funny. ❞ ❝ aw, dammit, you broke it! ❞ ❝ you can't go 24 hours without having some kind of accident, huh? ❞ ❝ you just cheated! i watched you! ❞ ❝ if you even think about messing with me today, i will end you. ❞ ❝ are you drunk or something? because that was some of the weirdest shit i've ever heard. ❞ ❝ okay, i won't lie, that was actually pretty funny. ❞

actions. [ HEADLOCK ] — sender puts receiver in a headlock [ CHASE ] — sender chases receiver around in frustration [ RUN ] — sender runs from receiver to avoid being pranked/scared [ NUDGE ] — sender briskly nudges receiver in response to a snarky comment [ IGNORE ] — sender pretends to ignore receiver [ PULL ] — sender is dragged into pulling a prank with the sender [ CLEAN ] — sender begins cleaning receiver's mess [ WIPE ] — sender begins cleaning receiver's injuries after pulling a stunt that doesn't end well [ LEAVE ] — sender storms off in frustration after being messed with by receiver [ REVENGE ] — sender pulls a revenge prank on receiver (bonus points if a type of prank is specified!)

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queers-gambit · 1 year ago

Text

When The World Seems So Cruel

prompt: ( requested ) Billy knows something's bothering his girl, so, he follows his instincts and checks on her - family, friends, and slutty cheerleaders in bikinis be damned.

pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

word count: 5.1k+

warnings: cursing, smut 'cause why not, boys being assholes 'cause they're losers, misogyny, toxic / abusive / neglectful family, description of background violence, angst, did Cherry really write it if there wasn't a helluva lot of projection and need for revocation of internet access?

"Miss Cahill? I'm sorry to interrupt," you half-smiled at your math professor, "but I was just wondering if you still had my test? I never got mine back."

"Right," she cleared her throat, glancing around your body to see most of the class empty at that point. "I wanted to talk to you about that," she paused to pull out your test from a manilla folder. "I was very shocked to grade this under your name, honey, you're usually such a well-focused and high-achievin' student, I mean, you're on track for the Nat Scholarship! So, to see this... Was shockin', it's... Not your best work," she winced, handing the packet over.

You blinked in shock, frowning as anxiety mounted in your chest when you saw the glaring F in red marker. You mumbled in embarrassment, "I guess I've just been off my game..."

"Honey," Miss Cahill sighed in her light country accent, leaning on her desk with both fists so your eyes met hers, "I can always tell when one of my students is goin' through somethin' at home."

You froze, shaking your head, "No, no, it's not... It's not so bad."

"What's goin' on?"

You shrugged, "I've just been... Really tired," you decided on excusing, hoping beyond hope it was enough.

It wasn't, of course it wasn't. Miss Cahill just sighed and offered, "I can let you retake the test next week - but only after you go see the guidance counselor."

"Right... Um, yeah, okay, yeah, sounds good; um, thanks, Miss Cahill."

You made an escape, distracted by the third failing test you received this week; nearly barreling straight into a meaty, solid chest. "Woah, hey, no need to run 'round lookin' for the man of your dreams, I'm right here, doll," Billy teased, hands grabbing your upper arms to steady you. "What's got you inna rush, baby? You know I pick you up after this class."

You smiled in brief distraction, "Yeah, sorry, baby, I was just thinking about this essay coming up. Hi," you offered, stretching up on your toes to kiss him in greeting. "How're you?"

He half-smirked, "I'm good, you know Mr. Brunson's got a stick up his ass as usual."

"Mhm. As usual, and totally has nothing to do with you provoking him," you teased, latching onto his waist as you shoved your test deep in your shoulder-bag. You neared his locker, and you managed to choke out, "Hey, um... Y-You wanna get outta here?"

Billy offered you a look of mild confusion, smirking with a strange laugh, "You wanna ditch school?"

"Maybe."

"Why?"

"I'm just tired," you offered meekly, "I feel like I haven't slept in a week."

Billy lead you up to his locker, hand on your waist to keep you close as he mused, "This feels like a setup."

"It's not, I promise."

He yanked the metal door open, "Uh-huh. You told me when I met you that I'd have to practically kidnap you to get you to skip class. Huh? 'Member all that? All them lectures you gave me 'bout the importance of goin' t'class if I wanna do anything after this shithole?"

"Yeah, but things change, Bee."

Billy's face dropped, shoving his books into his open locker before turning, leaning his shoulder on the locker next to his, arms crossed as he stared at you. "What's wrong?" He questioned sharply.

"Billy, I'm just tired."

"No, it's something else. What's wrong? What's goin' on?"

You sighed, "You know what? It's okay, nevermind, I actually promised Eddie that I'd help him make those banners for SGA during lunch today, so," you glanced around, "I'm gonna go."

"Nah, baby, hol' up, I ain't mean - "

"I know, handsome," you promised softly, nodding as you reached for his waist to give a squeeze and keep him close. "I just forgot I told a friend I'd help them out, so, I'll just see you after, yeah?"

One hand rose to pet over your cheek, sighing, "You sure you're good? You don't look okay, sugar."

"I'm good," you nodded, deflating into his embrace and hearing him chuckle. "I'm just stretched thin this week, probably shouldn't make promises to my delinquent friends with all the college drama to worry about."

"What'd Munson do this time to only get banner-duty? Huh?"

"Probably got caught skipping or something," you mumbled against his pectoral; inhaling the scent of his mall-bought cologne and finding it a refreshing change from the CVS-brand he used when you first met. "School did something right by makin' everyone in detention serve the SGA for all their shit."

"Definitely got me to shape up," he joked, pecking the top of your head before finishing, "but I mostly missed out on time with you."

"Hey... I was thinking, maybe I can come over this weekend? Keep Max company, maybe keep Neil at bay? Can have a sleepover, too, if you want."

Now Billy's head cocked and his expression hardened, "The fuck you wanna come over for? You know how tense shit gets - "

"Billy."

"Nah, you're not makin' sense, pretty girl," he snapped, pulling back to stare down at you. "What's going on with you? You don't wanna be at home or something? The fuck's goin' on that's so bad you'd rather be at my place?"

You felt tongue tied, but the bell rang shrilly and literally saved you from needing to answer. "Shit, I gotta run, baby. I'll find you later, okay?" You promised, lifting onto your toes to kiss him, promising, "I love you."

He frowned, grumbling, "Yeah, love you, too." He watched you vacate the hall, his mind basically going blank to all other thought beside you. The entire lunch period, he sat on the hood of his car, chain smoking, wondering where he went wrong; what he did to upset you; what could be going on and most importantly, why you couldn't say anything to him about it.

However, after lunch, Billy found you in the library's designated SGA room and thought you appeared ten times as relaxed, laughing with Eddie Munson. When the punk caught Billy's eye, he nodded in respect; gesturing for you to look, and your head turned with a smile. You parted from Eddie and trotted up to Billy, feeling relieved when he grabbed you in a possessive hold; searing his lips to yours.

"Hi," you giggled.

"You seem happy."

"Kinda hard to be in a bad mood around Eddie."

"I can see," he lead you away. He wanted to bring back up about whatever was bothering you, but didn't; fearing ruining your joyful mood. Instead, his fingers just tangled with yours and you entered history together.

What should've been a decently peaceful class turned into a state of confusion for you and Billy when the intercom kicked on, the front office asking for your presence with the principal. Billy glared at the speaker box as you cast him a look of doubt, both confused by the summons; being all too used to them calling his name instead. All of history passed miserably; Billy alone without his favorite person to keep him on track and becoming antsy the longer you were gone. When you didn't return by the end of class, he grabbed anything you left and begrudgingly went to the last two classes of the day.

When the final bell rang, Billy waited for you at his car for a solid 25 minutes with several cigarettes being burned, but when you still didn't show, he grew worried. So, he stored everything in his Camaro, not needing to worry about his sister because Max got a ride home with her new bestie, Jane, and her father, Jim Hopper, and stormed through the school. Anger radiated off his very being, nearly stomping his steps, and just before he got to the front lobby, he saw you exiting the office.

You didn't notice him at first, and for a moment, Billy thought you were going to hurl whatever was on your stomach as you held a few pieces of paper in shaking hands. "Baby," he called your attention, finding your eyes light up at the sight of him. "The hell's goin' on? You were gone the rest of the day, I got worried."

"Yeah, it was some shit wrong with my college applications, but we got it straightened out," you lied, stepping into his embrace. "I'm sorry I worried you, handsome."

He met your lips in a kiss, promising, "Not your fault. C'mon, day's over, our weekend can start once we get the hell outta here."

"Hmm," you hummed dreamily. "Lemme go to my locker and we can get gone."

Billy didn't mind waiting, and when you were done at your locker, he escorted you to his car; only a few students still lingering after hours. He opened your passenger door, winking at you, then quickly jogged to his side and slid in. "C'mere," he breathed, reaching for your cheek instantly; hand sliding along the back of your neck and bringing you in close.

You moaned when Billy's lips molded to yours; all but instantly salivating when his tongue tangled with your own in a messy dance. You had a few rules about PDA, especially in school; but being in his car was neural territory and Billy needed a way to expel his neediness. Praising God for making today steadily warm and that you wore a skirt, you were ready to cry when Billy's hand came down to grip the meat of your thigh.

"Billy," you rushed when his hand traveled under your skirt to ghost over your panties.

"Nobody's here t'watch," he smirked. "C'mon, lemme do this for you, pretty girl. You don't wanna go home yet, right? Ain't got some curfew?"

"Nope," you surged forward to slam your lips to his, moaning when his hand now confidently pet your panties as your legs spread all the wider to encourage him.

"Good girl," he praised quickly, skimming the apex of your thigh to hook your panties and pull them to the side. "Mhm," he hummed with a cocky smirk, "I knew you liked getting fucked in public. Feel how fuckin' wet you are - shit, Goddamn."

You mewled; tension mounting as you tightened up from the stoking pleasure. "Billy - " You gasped when he plunged his fingers into your cunt, easily sliding in due to your arousal. "Ohhh, fuck," you breathed, eyes shut and mouth agape in pleasure, "needed this - needed this so bad. Just needed you."

"You'll get so much more, baby."

You whimpered, "Now, please. Please, please, please."

He smirked, "Wanna get in the back or ride me, princess? Huh? Tell me what you need."

Your eyes locked with his as you thought it over, but then, you smirked as you readjust the passenger seat and turned so your ass was propped up. It gave him a full view of your messy cunt; panties askew from his previous motions and fluid rubbed all around. Billy reached out with one hand to plunge his pointer and middle finger back into your core, the other wrangling open his belt, button, and jean zipper in frantic movements.

He shimmied from the garments and sat up, following your lead in adjusting his seat. He instantly mounted behind you over the center console, licking his palm and stroking his himself to life as he drug his cockhead up and down your wetness.

Billy reached out to move your panties once more, line himself up, and plunge full-hilt. You gasped and grunted, letting yourself be shoved forward a little to catch on the seat; Billy hissing between his teeth as your warmth enveloped him in a sticky-wetness. "Hang on, doll, ah, fuck, there we go," he chuckled, readjusting his position before starting to move his hips to create the most delicious friction.

"Fuuuuck, Billy!" You whined when he held both your hips with only one hand keeping your panties to the side.

"Needed this, too," he chuckled. "Good girl, fuckin' taking me so well. You'd let me do anything, wouldn't you? Fuck you however I want to, huh? Yeah," he lifted one hand to smack the meat of your bottom, creating a ripple; liking the way you twitched and delivered two more, finishing, "I know my pretty baby would let me do whatever I fucking wanted with her - " he clenched his teeth, hips punctuating his words, "'cause she was fuckin' made for me."

"Yes," you moaned, mind blank from all the previous drama of your day; ready to weep like a bitch in heat, "anything, baby, yes, yes, yes, anything you want."

"Good girl," he laughed ruefully; picking up the pace to fuck you outta your mind as he ensured you felt every throbbing vein of his engorged cock. He chased his own orgasm as you were charged with your own; hand reaching for your clit to start applying pressure in tight circles. "Let me cum in you, sweetheart. C'mon, baby, tell me I can cum in you - in this pretty pussy - in my pretty pussy - lemme fuckin' cum in you."

"Billy, fuck - yes, baby, yes! Yes, harder, please, fuck me harder and you can cum wherever you want."

"Even your ass?"

"Yes, Daddy, yes, anything you want! Fuck my ass full of your cum, please, fuck, I need it! Whatever you want, I need. Please!"

Billy's golden curls stuck to his forehead and neck, entire car rocking with frantic, animalistic movements - but anyone lingering around the school to see it wasn't surprised. Billy felt like he went faster than usual, that he got a little rougher; but he was nearing his end and it was hard to keep pace. When you cried out and legs shook from your flash-bang of an orgasm, he knew you had finished and could focus on his own; never pulling out.

He'd fuck your ass later.

"Fuck!" Billy came with a shout; shooting hot, salty, opaque white ropes of cum into your quivering cunt. He stuttered his hips into the meat of your ass, balls contracting; emptying himself inside you as you relished in the feeling of his warmth flooding your lower belly. He chuckled, mocking, "Might just have to get you off that pill so I can get you fucking pregnant already."

"Whatever Daddy wants."

Billy laughed as he pulled out of you slowly, instantly turning again to crash into his driver seat. You went a little limp but managed to turn over, both panting as the windows were fogged up; but aired out when Billy rolled two down to light up his cigarette. "So," he spoke through his inhale and deep breaths, "you wanna tell me whats wrong now?"

"Hmm?"

"Why're you so distracted? Distant? Even with me?"

You felt panicked by the confrontation, resorting to your last line of defense. "Just dealing with a lot," you answered as your legs spread as wide as you could to start toying with your beaten-pussy. He watched with a stoic expression as you used your fingers to stuff his dripping-cum back inside you. "'S been stressful, guess I just had a bad day," you whined lightly, still playing.

"Fuck's sake."

"Hmm?" You feigned innocence.

"You're just askin' for it, huh?"

"Maybe," you pouted, "or maybe I just need your cum - "

"Cut it out, we gotta go," he snickered, turning the key in the ignition. "Your dad hates me enough, can't have you late for family dinner."

You went quiet as your thoughts were plagued with a screaming voice that begged Billy to just read your mind and understand what was wrong - why you were so upset, so panicked. But you knew better. So, you flipped down your skirt and readjusted yourself, sucking your fingers of his cum before letting his hand tangle with one of yours on your lap.

"Maybe you'd wanna come over tonight?" You asked softly. "Go see a movie or something?"

"You never wanna go out on Friday nights," he chuckled, but something felt terribly wrong about the notion. "You do homework and study on Friday and Sunday nights, you said it was a relationship rule, huh?"

"Things can change," you pouted.

"I told Tommy and Ryan I'd hang with them and the guys tonight," Billy spoke slowly. "But I can cancel if you - "

"No, no, don't," you shook your head, "go see your friends. 'Cause I'll see you in the morning, right?"

"Right."

"And I can stay the night... Right?"

Billy nodded, "Anytime you want, baby, yeah."

"Okay, cool," you spoke softly, deflating in his seat when he pulled up to your house. "Um..." You stared up at the home as if it were haunted. "Do you wanna come in for a little?"

His head tilted and brows furrowed, "I have to pick up Max from Hopper's, remember?"

"Right!" You gaped, but didn't move.

"What's wrong?" He asked with a hardened tone, making you gulp lightly. "You don't wanna go in?"

"I could, like, just go with you?"

"Baby, the fuck's going on? Know I hate repeating myself and shit, so just fucking tell me - maybe I can fucking help."

"Nothing, no, it's just, it's nothing, I'm sorry, I just - I'm sorry," you chuckled. "Guess I'm PMSing and feel clingy or something."

He only hummed as you leaned over to kiss him in parting. Both promised you love each other before you got out, jogging up the driveway and opening the front door; pausing to wave at him and then disappear in the house.

"Yo, dickhead! Hey! Grab me a beer!" Tommy Hagan called to Ryan Sheen as he went to rummage in his uncle's basement fridge. "And grab Billy one, too!"

"Nah, I'm good," Billy refused, glancing at the can in his hand. It was still half-full. He didn't feel like drinking after having time to sit and think about your behavior the past few days, worrying about you more than he wanted to get drunk.

"What?" Tommy laughed obnoxiously, smacking his teeth after. "You don't want a second? What's wrong with you, got some test you gotta study for?" He laughed at his own joke. In Tommy H.'s mind, only fucking losers study on Friday nights.

"Nah," Billy eased, setting his can down as he felt his irritation flare. He was annoyed at Tommy, sure, but also by the idea that something was wrong with you and you didn't trust him enough to say anything. "I actually gotta go, you guys," Billy stood.

"What?" Now Ryan scoffed, slapping a can of beer to Tommy's open hand. "You're not serious, dude! We've only been here, fuckin' what? Half an hour, bro!" He sucked his teeth in annoyance, rolling his eyes, "C'mon, we were going to Alicia's pool party tonight - you're supposed to give us a ride! The fuck's more important than the slutty cheerleaders in bikinis?"

"That Maria chick's been all over you, too," Tommy laughed. "You can't tell us a single thing that's better than Maria Thomas, all soaped up, in that tiny bikini she wore for the car wash. It's all our wet dreams come to life, Billy, you can't seriously consider missing that!"

"Not everybody's desperate to see Maria's tit-job. You know what? Whatever, man, I gotta go see my girl," he tugged his jean jacket on, tugging his blonde curls out of the collar.

Ryan rolled his eyes as Tommy laughed, "No way. Nuh-uh. You're seriously going to fuckin' ditchin' us for that chick?"

"Man, fuck you, guys, I'm ditching your dumbasses for my girl," Billy snapped. "Better what your fucking mouths and how you talk about her."

"Whatever, man. You're just whipped."

"She got you on some leash or some shit? Got you on a curfew like she's your mommy?" Ryan rolled his eyes, groaning, "Seriously, dude, we only see you at practice now!"

"Look, I just know something's up with her, so, I gotta check on - "

"So, what!? She ain't even tell you why she's pissed off? C'mon, man, that is such a stupid fuckin' tactic chicks use to get guys to go crawling back to their spoiled asses! Bitches do the pettiest shit to get us to suck up to them and shit."

Billy turned and easily caught Tommy by the collar of his shirt before he could even let go of his beer can, slamming the loudmouth into the wall as the aluminum can clattered. Ryan and the two other irrelevant guys left in the basement could only freeze, knowing Billy Hargrove's aggression and not wanting to become part of the receiving end.

"I told you to watch your fucking mouth," Billy seethed.

"Fuck offuva me!" Ryan pushed Billy's arms off. "She's just some bitch, bro, you've already fucked most of the school - what's so different with her?"

Billy scoffed, nodding in amusement as he backed off a few steps. "You know? If I wanna go hang with my girl instead of you deadbeat dickheads, 's exactly what I'm gonna do. Not my fault y'all ain't shit and don't know what it means to keep a chick happy."

"Fuck off, Billy! You're so fucking pussy whipped!" Tommy barked. "Ditching us for that crybaby! Dude, it's not even real! She didn't even tell you whatever she's all upset about! You just had a feeling, so, just sit the fuck down, finish your drink, down a fuckin' second beer, and then let's go to the party! See some bitches that are actually worth seeing!"

Billy shook his head, "I ever hear y'all talkin' about my girl like this again," he chuckled dryly, "might be the last time y'all can even form words. Fuck yourselves," he sneered.

Billy didn't hesitate to storm out of the room, ignoring their jeers and sneers about him being "pussy whipped" and all their complaints about him skipping out on being their ride to "the hottest party of the year." The door slammed behind him, rattling a few windows; making a beeline for his Camaro and pausing at the trunk. He found a pair of your sports shoes you'd eventually need, grabbed them in a white-knuckle grip, then got in the driver's seat and peeled away.

When Billy got to your house, he noticed the lights in your bedroom were barely turned on; knowing you didn't like overhead lighting and probably had a string of lights plugged in. On the contrary, the rest of the house seemed wide awake - every single downstairs light turned on. He grabbed your shoes and his school books (left in his backseat) and got out of his parked car, approach the front door, and paused when a barrage of voices suddenly met his ears. He froze.

The screams were full of hate, and while he couldn't make out distinct words, he heard both your mother and father's elevated voices. It was relentless, it was full of anger and hate and confusion and accusations and Billy wasn't sure how long he stood there with his fist raised. With a deep breath, Billy finally knocked at the door... Then again... Then again... And again, using the metal knocker to bang rapidly. He heard the voices lower and stopped knocking; taking a step back, then waited with his best look of indifferent innocence.

When the door ripped open, Billy was greeted by your angry-looking mother, who didn't look at who was at the door when she snarled, "What the fuck do you want!?"

"Uh, yeah, um, hi, ma'am..." Billy waved awkwardly.

"Oh, Billy," she gasped. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry, I didn't realize it was you, sweetie. What's wrong? What - What time - ? Do you know what time it is?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'm sorry to interrupt so late, but nothing is wrong," he assured. "I just know your daughter's a little forgetful when there's a test comin' up," he chuckled, holding up the shoes and his books, "and she promised to help me nail this essay for my college portfolio... Did I use that correctly? Portfolio? She's always tryna broaden my vocabulary," he chuckled smoothly.

She smiled warmly, another victim to his charming influence, "Sure, honey, yes, of course, it's Friday or something, right, of course you can come in. C'mon, c'mon in." She stepped out the way to let Billy enter into the foyer. "Baby Girl's just upstairs in her room," she gestured with a wine glass Billy just noticed towards the staircase as she used your childhood nickname. They paused at the grand bannister, her eyes rolling when there came the muffled pounding of a bass-line from some song turned up to the max. "She's always blasting her music now adays, it'll make her deaf," your mother scoffed, taking a long sip, then waved him up. "Go on, get up there, good luck on your essay."

"Thank you, Miss Lady," he purred with a small smirk; nodding as he then watched her retreat to the sitting room, and barely a moment later, your father was exiting the kitchen.

"Billy," he greeted stiffly, glass of scotch in hand.

"Sir," Billy replied with a nod of respect, stepping out of his shoes (per household rules) to leave your parents at the front of the house's sitting room; beginning his ascent to the second level. He'd been there before, so, locating your room was like muscle memory; knocking when he approached the door and pausing when he only heard blaring music.

Another knock, no answer. So Billy opened your door.

You were sat on the ground, back against your bed, record player spinning, and the window you faced cracked open to waft the cigarette smoke out. His heart clenched when he saw you, your sadness nearly tangible as light made your tear-tracks on your cheeks glitter. "Baby," Billy spoke softly, watching you jump in shock. "Hey, hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you, I tried to knock."

You nodded absently, "Music's on."

"Yeah, 's a good song," he allotted as he shut your door securely and asked, "want it locked?"

"Doesn't lock," you answered robotically, looking back out the window.

"Can I turn the music down, baby, please? Real hard t'hear you."

You nodded and he lowered the volume - but when he did, he understood why you had it so high. Your parents could be heard arguing downstairs, and even with an entire floor between you, it was still loud. So, he turned the music up just a little, frowned, and moved beside you, grunting lightly as his tight jeans constricted while he sat.

"Can I?" He asked, pointing at the cigarette. You handed it over mutely, your usual quip of "it's may I, not can I," nowhere to be heard. After two puffs, he meant to hand it back, but instead, you just fell into his side as if all energy you had to keep you up was depleted; a nearly drowned-out whimper emitting. Billy saw the coffee mug you had been using as an ashtray and dropped the cigarette instantly, using both arms to tug you into his lap.

Billy held you in a fetal position, gently and slowly squeezing you into his chest as he needed to feel you close; and you evidently needed to feel physical love. Billy had to gulp harshly when he felt your tears soak his shirt first, then the jerking of your shoulders; quivering of your body. This long week had finally caught up.

"Baby," he sighed, kissing your forehead. And instead of asking the idiotic and repetitive 'are you okay?', Billy instead just asked in a hush, "Why didn't you tell me it was this bad?"

Through your tears, you answered in a hiccuping-hush, "I didn't want it to be real."

Billy just sighed again, pulling you in tighter so you set under his chin. He let you simply rest, he just wanted to feel close to you... But something caught his eye. About three feet from you was your slumped, turned-over backpack; spewing contents as if it had been tossed aside in a fit of rage. What was interesting, though, was the crumpled pieces of paper; at least one sporting a huge, uppercase F circled in red marker.

"Yeah?" He whispered, sighing as he wanted to bite his tongue but couldn't. "Seems real enough to fuck up your grades though, huh?"

"I can retake the tests."

"You're gonna have to study."

"I know... 'S kinda hard to study here, though. Can't really focus on anything when all that's, you know, going on."

"No shit, Sherlock."

You snorted through your tears, "Don't make me laugh, I'm sad."

He smirked, "Yeah, yeah, all right. Listen, I'll just... We'll go to the library for tonight, and after, we can go to my place. How's that?"

"Thought you weren't allowed overnight visitors?"

"I'm not, but sneakin' inna my place can't be worse than tryna focus while here, right? Gotta be better than listening to this shit."

You nodded against his neck as a distant glass shattered, making you relent, "Touché."

"C'mon," he decided, kissing your forehead again, "pack a bag, baby. You're comin' with me - don't gotta stay here. Not tonight. Gonna come stay with me."

You pulled back just enough to ask, "Yeah?"

"Yeah, pretty girl," he smirked, caressing your cheek. "Might even let you do that green face goop thing you love bothering me about."

"It's an avocado face mask, and when your skin is literally glowing, you can thank me then."

Billy grinned down at you, taking the moment to swoop down and connect your lips in a long kiss; breathing each other in. When a second shatter sounded from downstairs, you flinched away, but Billy was quick to hush, "Hey, hey, hey," and when your eyes met his, he assured, "you're safe with me. Always safe with me." You nodded, tears shining in your eyes. "And you don't ever have to hide these parts of you - not from me. Never from me. I love you, pretty girl," he whispered, "and all parts that make you exactly who you are. Family included."

"I don't deserve you," you whispered.

"Nah, what you don't deserve is dealing with this shit. So, c'mon, get a bag together. We'll come back for what you need later, but get something together for the weekend."

You thanked him with a kiss, and while you got your things together, Billy mutely reached out to examine the pages in his grasp. He sighed, noting the three different failing tests and knew he had to "step up" his "boyfriend game" if he truly wanted to help you; and for the first time, he knew, without any selfish motives, he honestly did. He figured, for all you've done for him, providing you with something akin to a safe environment was a drop in the bucket; shoving those tests back into your school bag, standing, and helping you gather the last of your necessities.

Who needed slutty cheerleaders in soaped-up bikinis when this, right here, was what true love was? Shockingly, not Billy Hargrove.

requesting rules and masterlist

Stranger Things masterlist

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove stranger things #stranger things #stranger things billy #billy stranger things #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x female reader #billy hargrove x f!reader #billy hargrove x you #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove one shot #dacre montgomery

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lis-likes-fics · 1 month ago

Text

Is That a Challenge?

Pairings: Spencer Reid x Reader Word Count: 8.1k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, abo themes, omega!Spencer, alpha!Reader, (mentions of alpha!Emily) heat/rut mentions, sexual innuendos, multiple orgasms, edging oral (f! receiving), biting, claiming, praise, sub/dom themes, aftercare... A/N: This was so hard to write because I'm not really used to writing dom!Reader. I'm also not used to writing sub guys because I'm used to wanting all my blorbos to rail me so...this was new to me. I will eventually write a fic where Spencer does the railing though, TRUST! But here it is! I hope you and enjoy. Happy Halloween!

Traffic was a fucking nightmare, but at least you're here. People were moving slowly this morning for a reason unbeknownst to you. Your coffee is the only thing keeping you sane so far, and you're pretty sure it's by mere placebo.

You set your bag on your desk with a heavy sigh, saying your lazy hellos to the girls. You guess Morgan's in his office since he isn't here.

“Where's Rossi?” you wonder briefly as you switch your computer on.

“Hotch,” Emily mumbles. You hum.

“Spence isn't here today?” JJ wonders as she glances around for your boy genius.

You shake your head, plopping down in your chair with your arm thrown over the back. “No, he had to stay home,” you answer. “Not feeling too well.”

Emily turns, raising a brow. “He's not sick, right?”

You hum, tilting your head slightly. You busy yourself with your password. “Not exactly.”

You hear her before you see her. She's wearing something dangly today.

“Where is my cutie patootie?” She sounds playfully vexed. “He hasn't come to see me yet.”

“Wow, everyone is worried about my boyfriend today,” you say, turning in your chair to face all your girls.

“Well, your boyfriend doesn't miss work without plenty of notice,” Emily replies.

You purse your lips, turning away to focus on your work. You're sure there's plenty of it today. “Something came up…”

There's a very brief silence. JJ chuckles, catching your unintended insinuation. “Oh…” she says, “was that something him?”

You crinkle your nose, turning right back around to show her how unimpressed you are by her joke. “I will neither confirm nor deny.”

You probably should have confirmed or denied because now they're very interested. To be fair, it was a rather inappropriate response to respond to (not that that has ever stopped any of you from prying into the other's personal lives).

Penelope’s face shifts from her confusion into something rather mischievous. “Oh. Oh! Oh.”

Emily leans forward, a smirk on her lips as she sets her elbow on her leg. “Why aren't you staying home then?”

You cross your legs, your foot over your knee to pull close to you. “Proving a point.”

“Oh,” Penelope says again. “Oh.”

“Are you going to keep saying ‘oh’?” you question, shaking your head at her.

She sits on your desk, her enthusiasm leaking out of her ears. Maybe if you let it, she'll deflate and have to go refill your air supply.

“Yes,” she nods definitely. “Because—Oh, my God. I knew you were both little freaks.”

She is way too excited about your sex life.

You roll your eyes at her. “What's freaky about me proving a point by coming to work?”

“The fact that your point–” she pokes you, “–is so freaky.”

Emily and JJ are eating this up. They've both fully abandoned their work to turn toward you and pry. JJ’s got her legs crossed, Emily's got hers spread as she leans forward. They're all holding coffee mugs in their hands in place of tea cups.

“What’d he do?” Emily asks. She's bobbing her brows.

You laugh, covering your face with your hand as you sigh. “If I tell you, you cannot tell Morgan. He will never let Spence live it down.” Poor Spencer would have to go through that every day. It's just mean.

JJ’s the first to respond. “Deal.”

“He's getting nothing outta me,” Emily nods.

“You have my silence.” Penelope pretends to lock her mouth with a key. She stuffs said imaginary key in her bosom.

“Promise?” you warn.

“Yes!” she exclaims. “My lips are sealed. That's what the key was for.”

You sigh, trying to hold back your hesitant smile as you go through the morning. “The…” you chuckle lightly. “The heat snuck up on us this morning.” Their understanding comes in various hums and mumbles. “Obviously, I'm a little hot, too. I told him I would call in to be with him, and he agreed because,” you lick your lips, effectively conveying your slight annoyance, “I'd likely ‘be too frayed to focus anyway’.”

��Oo.”

“Yikes,” Penelope winces.

You nod. “And I told him that I could last longer than him. He pulled out all his statistics, said that my ‘kind’ was statistically less controlled at this time than his. I took that as a challenge.”

JJ hums, “So would I if I were in your shoes.” She brings her cup to her lips.

“Please,” Emily scoffs. “If my girlfriend said that to me, it would be all over for her.”

You shrug. “I told him that I'd last the day without so much as a text. First to make contact loses.” You glance at your phone, searching for anything and finding nothing. “He's doing well so far. I thought he'd tap out after the first hour. He was really bad this morning.”

“Only…” Emily checks her watch, “seven more hours to go.”

It's only been an hour since you left the house. One hour. Singular.

This morning has been so slow, and it's only been an hour.

“Seven?”

You might give up now.

Emily chuckles, though she's sympathetic to your cause. “Hang in there. Make us proud.”

Penelope shrugs. “Hey, chicks before private parts and all that, but I will be rooting for Spencer. I have faith in him.” She makes a fist to show her firm stance in this race.

JJ sighs. “That's sweet, Pen, but he'll probably tap out within the next hour. I know I probably would.” She shrugs. “But it's not for a lack of trying.”

Penelope laughs at that. “And so would I, but he's strong. Right?”

You turn back around to face your computer, snickering to yourself. “You should see him in bed.”

You hold your hand out behind you. Emily smacks it before swiveling in her own chair. JJ and Penelope roll their eyes. She scoots off your desk to leave.

When your phone rings, “Penny” is shining on your screen like she's already in your face. You answer.

“I need news. Anything yet?”

You roll your eyes. She hadn't even waited for a hello. “You called me for this?”

“Has he texted you?” she insists.

Your leg starts jumping. “Nothing yet.”

It's a little frustrating. You've been here for how long? Spencer was about to burst this morning. After he'd proposed his little facts, you didn't even help him out before you left. Now he hasn't called or texted or even asked about you through any of your friends.

Penelope is ecstatic. “See?” She squeals.

“He's still got another three hours,” you say. “He'll break.”

“Oh, my wonder boy?” She giggles. “Never.”

You run a hand down your face at her support of him. It's sort of annoying because she's sort of right. Spencer is very stubborn when he wants to be. That's what happens when you know everything.

She hangs up on you. You put your phone down with a sigh and focus in again on your work. If you don't, you think you might lose (which would never happen).

“Pen?” Emily mumbles.

“Who else?”

It's the end of the day. The sun will be gone by the time you make it home. Not a single peep.

You're surrounded by the girls as you all step into the elevator. Penelope starts to say something, but you see Derek first.

“The door, the door, the door!” you whisper-shout.

You all start jabbing the close-door button, and you think briefly that you'll break it. All the boys look on, entirely taken aback by such behavior.

“Wait. Hold on!” The doors close in Derek's face.

You let out a breath of relief.

“He actually did it,” JJ smiles.

Emily shrugs, though she sighs a little. “I'm impressed.”

“No. No,” you wag your finger. “Not yet. The deal is no contact, not no texting. When I get home, he'll be all over me, and then he'll lose.”

Your annoyance is funny to them.

Penelope almost whines. “First to touch? That's evil.”

Emily doesn't sympathize. “But worth it. Gotta do what you gotta do.”

“Wait, so what happens if you win?” JJ wonders.

“Spencer has to wash the dishes for a month No questions asked.”

“Oh.” Penelope hums, then she sighs. “Underwhelming.”

Emily leans against the wall. “I thought he already does dishes.”

“He does,” you say. “Gladly, I might add, because he knows I hate them.”

The doors slide open on the main floor. They continue to follow you.

“Then what's the challenge?” Emily asks.

You shrug. “Dignity.” Your car beeps as you press on the key fob.

“Oh, please,” JJ scoffs. “It's pride. She just wants to prove she's better than him ‘cause she's an Alpha.”

You don't look at her. “Two things can be true.”

“So what's the real deal, huh?” Penelope’s voice shifts down, and her nose crinkles in a gremlin-like manner. “Loser gets down and dirty? Are we talking who'll cry first?”

You all turn to look at her. Her smirk fades a little, and she rolls her eyes with a scoff. “What? I might be rainbows and unicorns but ya girl gets down in poundtown.”

JJ’s brows raise. She smiles as she nods, “Alright, then.”

To be honest, the parameters of the deal were fuzzy. Whatever you propose, Spencer will love. Whatever Spencer proposes, you will love. You're compatible in that way.

The ideas are making it hard to pretend you've got it together.

“I guess we'll never know.” Emily leans on your car, crossing her ankles.

“Know what?”

Morgan's voice breaks the four of you from your huddle. You turn to him as he comes forth, the Hotch and Rossi in tow. He puts his hands on his hips.

“What do you mean?”

Derek scoffs, as if to say “don't play with me”. You look at him expectantly, and he just shakes his head at you. “You said you guess you'll never know.”

You continue to play dumb. It's rather fun that way. “What won't you know?”

Derek crosses his arms over his broad chest. He raises a brow at all of you, waiting for someone to break and not expecting it to come from you or Emily.

“Does it have something to do with the kid?” He glances at Penelope, and you have to fight the urge to stare her down and remind her of the deal.

But alas. “Hearing you call him ‘kid’ in this context is really tripping me up.”

“So it is!”

“Penelope!” you scold.

She winces, covering her face to hide her blush and her smile. “I'm sorry!” Everyone's laughing by now.

You sigh, turning back to Derek. “Spencer is fine. Hotch knows. He was a little under the weather this morning.”

Everyone looks at Hotch. His face is as blank as ever. Until it isn't.

It is so, so slight. But the faintest glimmer of a smirk curves his lip, and you know it's over. The traitor.

“Oh-ho!” Derek claps. “I saw that.” He turns to you. “You mean longin’ to be under those sheets?”

You think it's funny that Derek thinks he's funny.

“Good job, Garcia,” JJ laughs.

“Sorry!”

Emily pokes fun. “Hotch, what happened to poker face?”

His hands come up. His smile is wide.

“It's fine. Spence is fine,” you insist. You begin to realize that it has been all day since he's seen you, and he's probably going to lose his mind soon. “And if you'll excuse me, I need to go make sure he's doing okay.”

Derek laughs, lightly smacking your shoulder. “Go rock his world, girl.”

Penelope raises a stern finger to him, “You are in time out, mister!”

“Oh, yeah?” He raises a brow. “Well, hopefully I can be in time out with you. How's that sound?”

They both walk away cheerfully. Derek glances over his shoulder at you, waving and then pretending to zip his lips. You smile back at him. At least Spencer can live in relative peace then.

Emily nudges your shoulder with hers. “Make us proud.” Her phone chimes. You watch something in her face change as she sucks in a breath through her teeth. “Speaking of which, I have to get home.”

She leaves abruptly, making haste in getting to her car to what you believe is going to be a good night for her.

JJ laughs as she leaves. “Still rooting for Spence.”

You look at Hotch and Rossi. “He'll be in tomorrow,” you promise.

“Oh!” Rossi’s brows shoot up, and they both laugh heftily. “Okay, then.”

“Take care. Both of you,” Hotch says. “And let me know if he's still…sick.”

You purse your lips as you nod. “Will do.”

Rossi starts backing up, wagging his finger at you as he does. “You two have fun now. But not too much fun.”

You roll your eyes. “Thanks, Gramps.”

“Hey. Respect your elders.”

Hotch laughs again. “Have a good night.” He pats Rossi on the shoulder as they both turn to leave. You open your door, stepping inside as you wave your goodbyes.

“Spence?” You peek your head past the door, looking around the living room to find him absent. “Baby, I'm home.”

When you close the door behind you, you're hit with it. His scent is everywhere. It's like he decided to rub his body all over every square inch of the house. If you weren't hot before, you definitely are now.

You press your thighs together, placing a hand on the wall to support you as you try to focus. How were you supposed to win if he has scented the whole house? You know he did it on purpose, too. He did this last time, when you actually stayed home. You didn't leave the bed for two days. (When you did leave, it was only because you got called in for a case.)

It's bad when you get to the bedroom. The door is closed, and you can smell it leaking out of the crack under the door. You think maybe you'll hold your breath when you get inside, but it seems highly illogical, so you don't.

As you push the door open, you're almost dizzy with the scent. “Oh, my,” you mutter, your eyes finding a lump in the bed surrounded by clothes and blankets. “It's hot in here. You should really open a window.”

Spencer sits up. His chest is bare, so are his legs, and you assume the rest of him. His hair is a tousled mess on his head. He looks almost precious like this.

“You're late,” he states plainly. He looks more grieved than he does upset.

“Sorry, baby. Got caught up talking.” You walk past him to get to the window, cracking it open to let some fresh air into the room before you lose. You turn to him, your hands on your hips as you smile. “Are you hungry? Been wanting to cook all day, for some reason.”

He shakes his head. He almost looks tired. His face is pinkish. “I'm not hungry.”

“No?” You lean against the side of the bed, facing him with a tilted head. “What's wrong? You look upset.”

He shakes his head weakly. “I'm not upset. I'm just… I want…” His voice is slightly slurred.

You bend down to him, so close that you can smell every little thing on him. Conditioner in his hair, lotion and sweat on his skin, you. He's almost shaking when your faces are so close that he thinks you'll kiss him.

“You look like you're burning up,” you mutter, keeping your breath shallow. “You sure you're okay?”

He wishes you would touch him. Any touch. It didn't even have to be a kiss. You could put the back of your hand on his forehead. You could brush your knuckles over his cheek. Anything.

You'd have to admit, you're wanting the same thing. But, no. He started it. You're not going to finish it.

“Please.”

Oh, what music.

You raise a brow, tilting your head to the other side. “What's that?”

“I'm sorry. I was wrong.”

You contain your grin. You play dumb, looking over his face and humming. “About what, sweetheart?”

He shakes his head. “I didn't last longer. I tried, but I couldn't.”

“That’s not true,” You see him start to lean forward. You pull back, gutting gently. “You didn't text me. Not once. You didn't call anyone. I haven't heard a thing.”

He almost whines. “Are you angry with me?”

“Angry?” you smile. “Of course not . That was the challenge. I can't be mad just because you tried to win.”

You linger there a moment, but it's getting to be too much. You straighten your spine slowly. You almost mess up as you reach your hand up to stroke his cheek, stopping halfway just to drop it back to your side. You sigh and walk away.

“How were you,” you wonder, “while I was gone?”

“Please. It hurts.”

He sounds so sad, you almost give in just because. You don't want him hurting. But you have a point to prove. Besides, the longer you wait it out, the better he'll be by the time you're done with him.

So you continue. “What hurts?” You slip your shoes off by the door, stretching your arms over your head with a long sigh.

“Everything hurts.” He can't think straight. It's becoming too much.

“Poor baby,” you mutter.

He needs you to do something, but he doesn't want to accept defeat. It's not fully a conscious decision. Spencer has always had trouble asking for help. It's what happens when you know everything. It's just more fun for him when he doesn't feel like he's burning from the inside out.

“I wasn't good,” he tries. “I tried to fix it on my own, but I couldn't. I knew I couldn't, and I tried anyway.”

You hum. “That's okay. What else were you going to do? Wait for me?”

“I'm supposed to.”

You shrug. “You are supposed to.” You walk to the edge of the bed, tilting your head at him. “But you didn't.”

“Please,” he mumbles, moving closer. He holds his hands out, palms up to offer them to you.

“I'm not falling for that, Spencer. If you want me to help, you know how to do that.” Any second now. “Don't you?”

Spencer just stares at you for a second, his face seemingly pained with his need. He sits up on his knees, the blankets falling away from him as he cradles your face in the palms of his hands.

Your lashes flutter at the feeling of his soft hands on your cheeks, but you continue to watch him, your face blank.

He gives in. “Please.”

You cup his elbow with your hand. With a sigh, Spencer leans in and captures your mouth in his. It's hot and rough, full of a raw desire for the other.

He's insistent in the way he kisses you. If he hadn't been so needy before, you'd think he was making you concede. His hand cups the back of your neck, the other wrapping around your waist as he brings you flush against his body.

You let him move you for now, setting your arms over his shoulders as you run your fingers through his hair.

When you grasp a handful of his soft, brown locks, he whimpers when you pull it back. You have to fight the urge to clench your teeth. “Shh, it's okay,” you whisper against his lips. You keep him firmly in place, kissing his forehead and his nose and his lips. “You weren't very good today, were you?”

You feel his body tense against you. “You are angry.”

You shake your head, rutting gently. “I'm not angry with you.” You let go of his hair to glide your fingertips along his hairline. “I'm just disappointed.”

He tugs at the hem of your shirt. “That's not better.”

You smile. “It's not, is it?” You pinch his chin in your hand, brushing your fingers along the length of his neck. “But don't worry, baby, we're gonna fix that together, okay?”

He nods. “Okay.”

You kiss him quickly before stepping out of his grasp. “Lie back.” Spencer sits back on the bed, awaiting you with pleading eyes. You smile. “I'm gonna go get ready for you. When I come back, I want you to be right there. Okay?”

He nods. “Okay.”

“Good.”

When you return, Spencer is laying back against the headboard like he's dying of the plague. You lean your bare body against the doorframe, sighing gently as you watch him.

You gently knock on the wall, bidding his eyes open as he turns his head to you. His breath hitches, catching again as he sits up some more.

Slowly, you make your way to the bed, climbing on top of the sheets and crawling over to him. Your lips meet as you straddle his waist, hovering over him as you relish in the closeness.

With a feather light touch, you reach down to take his cock in your hand. He winces, inhaling sharply through his teeth as his eyes squeeze shut. You pull back to look at it, swollen and weeping. It looks painful, and you suspect it is. “Oh,” you sigh lightly. “Look at what you did to yourself, baby. How will I be able to do anything with this? You're already ready to burst.”

He whines. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to.” He gasps woefully when your thumb brushes the head. “Can you fix it?”

You do not envy him. Your clit is aching, your nipples are peaked, and you'll start sweating any moment now—but Spencer is suffering. He really needs this, and you're about to be cruel.

Oh, well. At least he'll learn a lesson.

You sigh, letting go of him. “I have an idea. But I need to be warmed up first, yeah?”

You kiss him before throwing your leg from over his body. He sits up, switching spots with you to let you sit against the headboard, your legs spread wide. You've been needing this all day, but you can't admit to that yet. At least Spencer had the whole house, filled with your scent in every fiber of fabric or every splinter of wood. You've been trapped at the office with nothing but his desk too far away from you to keep you company.

Spencer scurries to the spot between your legs. He might as well be salivating with how excited he is to be there. He slips his arms underneath your thighs, scooping them up and pulling you in close. Before he does anything, he looks up at you. “May I?”

He asks so sweetly. It'd be cruel not to oblige.

“Yes, sweetheart.”

Spencer's mouth is on you in a second, his hot tongue laving through your folds and his lips suckling on your clit. He's eager and desperate to taste you, to run his mouth over your cunt and cover himself in you.

You moan as you card your fingers through his hair, bucking your hips up into his mouth every time he moans right back. He eats you out like you're a feast fit for a king, licking and sucking and slurping you up.

“Oh, fuck. That's it, baby. Keep going.” You huff, savoring each flick of his tongue. “Good. Good boy.”

He makes a dreadful sound, so filled with pleasure that slick and spit seep from you like sap. You grip his hair tight, encouraging him with grinding hips and deep moans and fluttering folds. “C’mon, baby. Doin’ so good f’me.” He plunges his tongue inside of you, moaning into your dripping cunt.

He's always been very eager to do this, to taste you and to lick you whole. He's always been very good at this. You're on the verge already—all the pent of desire between the two of you makes it all the worse.

When you cum, he's all over you. His tongue and his lips devour you. Your thighs clamp around his head so tight, you think that you'll crush his skull. Not that he'll mind much. He's always enjoyed being in this position—you think he'd consider it a wonderful death.

The pleasure rushes through your body and makes you tremble as you arch your back and soak in the feeling of it all. And when the trembling has eased, you let out a heavy sigh and guide Spencer away before he works toward a second or fifth orgasm. He will, and he has.

“Good‎. Good job, baby,” you smile drunkenly, carding your fingers through his hair as you tilt his head up to look at you. His face is pink, almost darker. His chin and nose glisten with your arousal. You kiss it from his face.

He stares at you like your approval is going to make him cum all on its own. His lashes are fluttering, and he looks like he's barely holding on to reality.

You kiss his forehead to bring him back again. “Now lie back, and let me take a look.”

Spencer does as he's told. He sits up and trades places with you once again. As he lays against the pillows, you shuffle through clothes and blankets to half-straddle his legs.

He's gotten worse (as you supposed he would). When you touch his aching cock, he winces again. “Ah!” he exclaims, like you'd just hit him in the gut.

You shush him gently, using your fingertips to brush over the length of him. His arousal is pooling at the tip of his weeping cock. You do not envy him right now. You do pity him.

Though not enough to give him what he wants.

You drag your fingertips gently along his cock, grazing your thumb along the head and watching his belly tense and un-tense. You lean down, pressing your lips to his chest, and then to his belly, and then to his lower belly.

He whines when your breath fans over his erection, even worse when your lips kiss the base of his cock, and then come back up to kiss the head.

He's muttering little pleas under his breath, but he's too unfocused to form any actual sentences. You scarcely lick and suck on him, not nearly enough to get him off, but enough to elicit desperate moans and whimpers from your poor boy.

Your fingers curl around him, teasing the veins running underneath his cock or gliding gently over his balls. He's trembling, he needs you so bad.

You really should just put him out of his misery, but you find it too sweet right now. You clench your thighs and bite your lip. You bring your own free hand to your clit and rub inefficient circles over the bundle of nerves. It won't be enough right now to help you, but it sure does drive him crazy.

Spencer can't keep up with his own breath. He struggles to keep it steady when you touch him like you do. Every time you think he'll cum, you grip the base of his cock until that malcontent fills his eyes, and then you start again. You've done it a lot thus far, he's so close to the edge that everything you do nearly sets him off.

You stroke his length with a lazy, limp hand as you look down on him. “How's that? How do you feel, honey?”

Sweat sticks to his forehead, his neck—he's covered in it. His eyes are dazed. You're not entirely sure he's present right now. He's definitely not here enough to string together a coherent sentence on the first try.

“Please,” he whines. “I need it. Need you.”

There's no emphasis, or perhaps the whole thing is an emphasis. He's too far gone for you to tell.

“Yeah?” You try to catch his line of sight. His eyes find you and stick to your face, but you can tell it's not quite processing fully. “That's not what it felt like today.” You shake your head, tutting as you keep stroking, slowly building your pace. “You said you could last without me. Now look at you: you can't even make a full sentence.”

You grip the base of his cock as you feel him beginning to buck into your hand. He groans, clenching his teeth and slamming his eyes shut. “‘M sorry. I'm s-sorry.”

“You are?” You sweep the pad of your thumb over the slit in his tip. “Sorry about what?”

He sits up on his elbows. “What I said. I was wrong,” he insists.

You tilt your head just as you flick your wrist. You watch the muscles in his neck tense. “What were you wrong about, Dr. Reid?”

His hand reaches out to hold your side, grasping without grabbing you. “P-Please.”

You lean forward, pulling his face close to yours as you continue to stroke your fingertips along the underside of his cock. “No. You don't get anything from me until you say it.”

His breath is entirely unsteady. He struggles to keep up as he makes these pitiful sounds. “Omegas don't have more discipline,” he huffs out, his words coming in a rush in an attempt to get them out. “I was wrong. I would-wouldn't last longer than you. I didn't. I lost, I was wrong.”

His hair sticks to his forehead. He looks like he might start crying.

“Good,” you smile, brushing the hair from his face and pressing a kiss to his temple. His nose nuzzles in the crook of your neck, his lips stick to your own damp skin. “Good boy. So good for me.” He whines lightly, worse when you rub his tip. “I just need you to do one more thing for me now, okay? Can you do that?”

He looks at you with glossy eyes. “Yes. Anything.”

You smile gently, your face unchanging as you simply say, “Apologize.”

His brows pull together. A tear rolls down the side of his face. “I did.”

You shake your head. “No,” you squeeze his base, “you said you're sorry, and that you were wrong.” He sighs shakily. “I want an apology. A good one. What did you do? Why did you do it? Why won't you be doing it again?”

He whimpers when you tickle his balls with your fingertips, pulling your hand away to watch his face scrunch up discontentedly before continuing again.

“C’mon, baby,” you encourage.

“I-I’m sorry for saying I don't n-need you,” he stammers. “I do. I thought I knew everything, but I don't. And-and–”

You raise your brows. “And what, Spencer?”

“And I won't do it again because–” His words are interrupted by a moan when you tug on his cock.

“Because what, huh?”

He places his hand on your cheek, gazing up at you with teary eyes and a face red as cherries. “Because I need you. Because I love you. Please, I love you.”

Your hand stops entirely, looking upon him with softened eyes and a gentle face. You bend down to whisper against his lips. “You promise?”

“I promise,” he breathes. “Fuck, I love you.”

You set a hand on his cheek, brushing your thumb over the reddened skin and easing hair from his face. His face is so warm, he's burning beneath your palm. “I love you, too, Spencer,” you smile. He hums into your mouth as you kiss him, leaning into you and your warmth. He missed you so much.

“See?” You cup his neck in your hands, cradling him in your palms as you look over him. “That wasn't so hard, now was it?” You kiss him again, but he's shaking beneath you. You hover above him, straddling his lap and placing a hand on his chest.

“You ready?”

“Yes!” he exclaims, grabbing at your sides and letting his hands feel your hot skin. “Yes, please.” He starts to ramble again.

“Shh. It's okay, it's okay,” you whisper against his lips.

You line his cock with your pussy, almost as needy as him as you anticipate the feeling. You sink down on him, and you're so dreadfully wet and aching that he slips right in with ease.

You both moan, long and deep sounds that reverberate in your chests. Your eyes fall shut, your folds flutter around him, your mouth parts. A gentle curse falls from your lips, and Spencer is glad he isn't the only one who needed this so bad.

He sits deep inside of you, filling you to the brim with his cock. He's so hard, you can feel him pulsing inside of you. His hands take hold of your waist and squeeze so hard that you think you'll bruise. You clench around him and try to keep your breath steady.

He really needs you to stay focused right now, you know it. You set your hands on his belly, holding his close as you slowly begin to grind yourself in him.

He really isn't going to last long. You've been teasing him for the better part of ten or fifteen minutes, pulling him to the edge just to ease it and watch him suffer. You'll be surprised if he holds out the first minute.

“That’s it, baby,” you sigh, your voice a little pitchy with your own pleasure. He grasps your hips and guides you a bit as you roll your hips steadily atop him. Your gentleness only lasts a moment. In the next, you're grinding atop him like you’re the one who's been trapped in the house all day begging for an Alpha to come help you.

Your sounds mix with his, almost as pitiful as you both whine and moan, blinded by the pleasure finally being awarded to you.

Spencer's head tosses back into the pillows. He clenches his jaw and tries to stifle his moan as he holds your hips down on top of him. You grip his shoulders, gasping as he cums inside of you. He moans your name, grabbing at flesh like he's kneading dough.

You shush him gently, easing your pace just enough to let him come down. Once his breaths settle down, you kiss him as you start again.

If there's one thing you love about this time of the month, it's how fast Spencer recovers. He can go for rounds and rounds at a time before he needs to rest.

You pick up Spencer's hand, guiding it to your belly as you press his palm into you. “You feel that?” you mutter, adjusting his hand. “That's you. That's you inside me. You're so—Ah!—so fucking deep, baby. Making me feel so good.”

He huffs, thrusting up into you suddenly. He laughs a little when he feels the way it moves, hears the way you moan. “It's perfect. You're perfect,” he rambles. He buries his head in the pillows.

When his dull nails dig into your skin again, you take his hands and pin his wrists above his head. He gasps and moans as you fuck him, riding him with all the vigor you have.

“You like that?” you huff, your control slipping with every roll of your hips. “This feel better?”

“Yes!” He's a mess, laying there and letting you ride him. “Yes, so much better.”

You can feel some of his cum leaking out of you, joining your arousal and making the schelp! of your thrusts easy. It soaks your thighs and his waist, creating this loud smacking sound that fills the bedroom.

Holding both his wrists in one hand isn't easy but it's manageable as you bring your hand to your clit, rubbing fast circles that immediately spur you on.

“Fuck,” you huff. “Spence, I'm gonna cum.” He answers you by thrusting his hips up some more, meeting your thighs as you come down.

Your legs shake as you cum, your cunt fluttering and gushing around him. One of your hands slips under his head to pull at his hair, enjoying the way he gasps. You attach your mouth to his throat, biting and sucking and licking.

It's like that for a while. It gets really wet and really loud. You ride Spencer for a while, holding him and kissing him and biting him while you both keep coming undone, moaning and gasping each other's names and grabbing at limbs to keep you steady.

Spencer is trembling beneath you. He's a complete mess, grabbing at your thighs and bucking his hips up to meet yours. His hair is all over his face, you keep having to brush it away. You praise him with every roll of your hips, grinding down on him and telling him how good he's doing. He whimpers every time you do.

The dynamics are always so different during heats like this. Spencer requires your lead, and you enjoy taking it. But when things are normal, when the need isn't so high, it's not so desperate.

That's not what this is. It's a raw feeling that sits in the pit of your stomach and demands attention as you hold Spencer down by his throat and sink your teeth into his flesh as you shudder around him in the middle of another orgasm (which makes him lose it and cum inside of you again).

You look at him as you settle again, catching your breath as you move slowly on top of him. His eyes are glossy, he's beet red. He looks so precious. His hand reaches up to cup your breasts, grazing the pad of his thumb over your nipple.

“Better?” you breathe. “Does that feel better, honey?”

He nods, not fully present. “Yes.”

“Good. That's good.” You sigh, bending down to kiss him gently. “Can you do something for me, love?”

“Anything.”

You brace yourself, pulling yourself up from his lap as he slips out of you. He whines, bucking his hips up to meet you again. “Shh. It's okay.”

You're shaky as you sit down, reaching over to grab his cock. It looks better, but he's still hard. He's got a couple loads left in him. If you weren't in a rut, you don't know how you would be able to keep up.

“Go ahead and get on top of me, okay?” Your voice has lost some of its intensity, replaced with breathless gentleness. At this point, you're just trying to make sure Spencer is okay, and you're losing some of your energy to guide him on top.

You lean into the plush pillows, keeping your hips up as he sits up to follow. Spencer grabs your hips gently, guiding himself inside of you once again as he presses his chest into your back.

You groan into the pillow when he thrusts, reaching one hand to card through his hair and setting the other palm up for him to hold. Spencer buries his face into your neck, kissing you needily as one of his hands plays with your breast. “Do whatever you want, I'm okay,” you whisper, clenching around him. The rock of his hips becomes insistent. He thrusts into you in quick movements, though not as rough in fear of hurting you.

“It's okay, baby,” you breathe again. He whines, squeezing your hand a little tighter. He listens anyway, adjusting his pace as his hips snap into yours, reaching deep and groaning with every thrust. You moan, pressing your face into the pillow. “Good, just like that.”

Spencer lets go, rocking back and forth and moaning and grabbing. He holds you carefully as he fucks you recklessly, enjoying the shudder and the swell of his body when he cums.

His fingers find your clit, and he rubs at it as he continues to thrust. He rubs tight circles, coaxing the frayed nerves with every intention of making you feel as good as he does. He kisses the back of your neck, he grinds his hips deep inside of you.

You hear the way his breath starts to rise again, the way his hips stutter once more. You grip his hair a little tighter, clenching around him and huffing when your own edge starts nipping at you.

“Baby,” he whines. “M’so close. Almost there.”

“C’mon, honey.” Your voice is a whisper muffled by the pillows. “C’mon, c’mon. I got you, c’mon.”

He flicks his wrist, and you gasp. Everything is covered in a white haze as you clench and gush around him. Spencer moans weakly, burying himself deep inside, pushing forward against you just to get closer. With a final thrust, he spills inside of you with the most dreadful sound, filling you to the brim with the warmth of his cum.

Spencer wraps his arms around your midsection, keeping you close to him and sticking together with sweat and warmth.

He rolls onto his side, taking you with him. He's still buried inside of you, refusing to pull out just yet as he lays there, catching his breath. You lay there, resting against the bed and enjoying the warmth of his body against yours. You don't know how many times he came, but you do know that if you weren't so dedicated to your medications, there is no earthly way you would come out of this without being bred.

It takes a while for Spencer to fully come back around. By the way his breath slows and his arms hold you, you'd say he'd fallen asleep for a moment. You don't blame him, you've dazed out a couple times as well.

When he comes to, he presses his lips to your skin. “Baby?” he mumbles, slipping out of you on the way to look at your face. Your eyes are closed, and you look tired. “Are you okay?”

You nod, smiling a little when you feel the way some of the stickiness is spilling out of you. “Mhm,” you hum lazily. You turn over in his arms, wrapping your arms around his waist and resting your cheek against his chest. He's forced to move his arms to sit over your shoulders. He doesn't mind.

“I missed you today, Spence,” you whisper. “Fuck, I thought I was gonna die.”

He hums, smiling a bit. He kisses your forehead, petting you gently. It takes a long time for him to move, to bear to pull away from you just to stand and go to the bathroom. He comes back with a cloth that he uses so carefully to clean the both of you up with. You're absolutely stuffed.

You drape an arm over your eyes, sighing heavily. “Next time this happens, we stay inside.”

“Agreed.”

You stuck your pinky out, and he interlocks his with a smile. He goes back to the bathroom to rinse off the cloth.

You sit up, leaning into Spencer when he comes back to the bedroom, sitting next to you with an arm around your waist. He really must have missed you because he buries his face in the crook of your neck and stays there.

After a while, you hear his stomach growl. It's this deep, monstrous sound that pulls you away from him.

You look at him expectantly, standing up and taking his face in your hands. “When was the last time you ate?” Spencer blushes, glancing away from you. You sigh, though not unkindly. “You haven't eaten today.”

He swallows thickly. “I was focused on other things.”

You chuckle lightly, kissing his forehead. “C’mon. Let's get you fed.”

You go to pull him with you, but he squeezes your hand. You return to his grasp. “I can do it.” His arms wrap around you and hold you tight so you can't escape.

“Hush,” you tap his nose. “I'll cook, we'll eat.”

He considers this for a moment. “Can we have sex after?”

You laugh, guiding his face to your chest as you tuck your chin over his head. You stroke his back. “You're so needy,” you laugh giddily.

He hums. “Sorry.”

A sour feeling threatens to curl in your belly. You pull him away to look at his face. He looks a little sad. “You have nothing to be sorry about,” you tell him, soft but firm. “Nothing.”

His brows furrow slightly. “But you said–”

“I wasn't upset with you. I was just playing it out for you.” You stroke your thumb over the apple of his cheek. You could never be upset with your Spencer.

He pouts now. You can't help but giggle at the way he looks, lips pursed and brows furrowed. He's silly, you think. “That was mean.”

You shrug. “You like when I'm mean to you.”

“I know.”

You pull him in and kiss him again. He's insistent on pulling close, always insistent. “I love you,” you whisper against his lips.

His voice is so small, so gentle. You taste his love on his tongue. “I love you, too.”

He brings you back in, and you slot your lips along his neck. He tilts his chin up to give you space. You kiss and suck at his skin, knocking his chin up some more as you find a nice spot beneath his ear.

Spencer hums when you bite him, sinking teeth into flesh to lay claim to him once again. His hands tighten around your waist. You feel his tired length bob against your thigh. He's yours. He'll always be yours.

When you kiss it better, Spencer dips his lips to your neck to do the same.

“Now let's go eat,” you smile, running your hands through his hair affectionately. You make him stand, tucking yourself into his side. You both need the support. “I'll make you whatever you want.”

He sounds almost pleading when he asks you. “And then sex?”

You chuckle heftily. “Of course we're gonna sex again.” He smiles excitedly.

You both return to work the day after the next day. You had to call off when you woke up with Spencer's head between your legs. You'd both mentally prepared yourselves in the car beforehand for the stares you were going to get from the team.

You walk inside next to Spencer, standing so close to him that it's no wonder they all immediately smirked at you. Even worse, Morgan is sitting on your desk.

“Nice outfit,” Emily points out, gesturing to Spencer in his purple turtleneck. He had to hide his blush, and you know he wished he could hide it in your neck.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. She glances at you, raising her brows expectantly. When you gave her a very small, very brief thumbs up by your side, she made a little “yes” as she spun back around to her desk. She sticks her hand out to JJ, who grumbles as she opens her wallet.

“You're lookin’ good kid. Guess you're all healed up now?” Morgan quips. When Spencer comes to his desk, which sits right across from you, the man whistles. “You're smellin’ ‎good.”

Yes. Spencer smells like you. He smells exceedingly like you. You'd spent a full day wrapped up in each other, and you'd bitten him more times than you can count. (Spencer could count. He'd say twelve times. It was eleven, but you bit him before you left the house. He's not at all upset by it.)

“I see the brains and the brawns have returned.” Rossi walks in with a newspaper under his arm, and Penelope at his side.

You roll your eyes, shooing Morgan away so you can sit down. Penelope shuffles up to you and bends down to whisper in your ear. “Did one of you cry?”

You purse your lips, considering for a moment before nodding with a stifled grin. “Yes! I was right,” she whispers.

“How was your fever?” Morgan nudges Spencer, whose mouth opens and shuts in a struggle to respond. He glances at you for help.

“Spence, how many files do you have on your desk?”

Without looking down, he answers. “Thirty-one.”

“Wow! And I have…” You look down.

“Forty-four.” Christ.

“Forty-four,” you repeat. “So I think we should get to work, huh?” Spencer nods enthusiastically.

Morgan chuckles, holding his hands up in defense as he backs away. “Okay, I get it. You get to work, little lovebirds.”

“Glad to have you back.” Penelope hugs Spencer. A look flashes across her face when she catches a whiff of his hair. She looks at you, covers her grin, and then rushes to join Derek.

Everyone decides to leave you alone. You've started turning on your computer when Spencer stands and reaches across your desk. He picks up eight of your files and sits back down with them added to his stack. When you go to reach for a couple to even it out, he lightly smacks your hand without even looking.

You roll your eyes, smiling at your screen as you tap in your password.

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