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joelscurls · 1 year

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feel it in your bones

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pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

words: 12.5k

summary: Two years ago, you finished your PhD and moved to Vermont. In the time since, you’ve gotten a job as a college professor, had your heart broken, and sworn off relationships entirely. Enter Joel, the father of one of your students, here for Homecoming Weekend – and too attractive to resist.

warnings: 18+, minors dni, no outbreak, age gap (reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his late 40s), alcohol consumption, fluff, smut, masturbation (f), mutual pining(?), sexual tension, grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, cumplay / cum eating, some light biting, use of pet names (darlin’, sweetheart, baby, etc.), reader has an asshole ex, no use of y/n

a/n: my first Joel fic! This is honestly a bit self-indulgent but I love fall and academia and Joel Miller so sue me okay. ty to my bby @caffeinated-validation for reading through this and offering your insight -- get you a partner who will beta your filthy Joel Miller smut for you lmao <3

You’ve gotten used to being alone.

You don’t mind it as much as you had a few months ago, the breakup still fresh, every touch of your own fingers seering into your skin when you’d remembered the way he’d touched you, the sound of your voice almost unrecognizable as you’d convince yourself each day to get out of bed and go to work, where you’d inevitably run into him. It was painful then, having to come home to the quiet, always far too aware of the sound of your own thoughts drumming against the inside of your skull.

Now though, you revel in that quiet. Sip your coffee in silence each morning. You’ve learned how to stay lost in your work, bringing home stacks of papers to grade and eating through texts to support your research while your dinner gets cold on the table in front of you. You’re well aware that this isn’t the healthiest way to cope, to just avoid it all, but it’s better than feeling.

You’ve sworn off relationships entirely. It’s a silent promise to yourself – that you’ll remain married to your work. You will devote all of your energy to making sure your students excel and that your research is strong. That is your life’s purpose, to make use of the PhD you worked so hard to get – not to be someone’s girlfriend or wife. And you’re fine with that, really. You’ve become immune to loneliness – or numb, maybe.

Regardless, you welcome the independence. You don’t have to worry about anyone else’s thoughts or feelings when it comes to the way you spend your own time. You’re free to do whatever you want. You can draw yourself a bath, fill it with bubbles, sit in it while you drain a bottle of wine into your mouth until the water runs cold. You can eat an entire box of dry cereal in one sitting while you re-watch your favorite show for the twentieth time. You can make yourself cum at any hour of the night with your vibrator or your shower head or your hand – and then go to work the next morning without a semblance of guilt.

Really, you like being alone.

Until you don’t.

It’s Homecoming Weekend at Sarah’s school.

She had insisted that Joel didn’t have to come, that it was mostly an opportunity for the college to milk donations out of sentimental alumni. But he’d missed her for the month she’d been gone, the house far too quiet with just him in it. In previous years, Joel had busied himself following Sarah’s departure with home projects. Three years in, though, he’s updated just about every room in the house, re-done the floors, built a brand new back deck.

In other words, he’s fresh out of distractions.

So, he’d made the trek to Vermont, with the excuse that he’d always wanted to experience a New England fall. It’s a lie, one that Sarah can probably read right through, considering he vocalizes his discomfort whenever the temperature drops below 70 degrees in Texas, but she goes along with it.

Besides, he wants to see what his tuition money is paying for.

In truth, Joel had been nervous when Sarah announced what major she’d decided to pursue. She had just finished her freshman year, prerequisite courses all completed. When she’d said the word – anthropology – Joel hadn’t even been sure what it meant. Since then, she’s explained it to him many times and in truth, he’s still none the wiser. Really, he’s just happy that she’s happy. Her passion for it is evident on her face any time she talks to him about the courses she’s taking, how great her professors are.

Especially you – she talks about you all the time – her mentor.

You’re supervising her on her thesis project – a qualitative assessment on students’ views on feminism and gender politics in the classroom. This past summer, Joel swears Sarah had mentioned your name more than her own friends’. She’d told him what courses you teach, what research you’ve conducted, all the countries you’ve traveled to for fieldwork. And she gives the best advice – Sarah had said one night over dinner – she’s like, my lifeline at school.

Joel doesn’t know you, but he’s thankful for you – for the guidance you so clearly provide Sarah.

There’s an Open House today for the Social Sciences college, which Joel tags along with Sarah to. He’s hopeful that he’ll learn something, come to understand the field and why Sarah loves it.

A buffet table stocked with refreshments sits on one side of the lecture hall. Sarah grabs them both cups of water infused with cucumber while Joel saves them seats at the back. There’s a slideshow projected onto the white board at the front, the current slide reading: An Introduction to the Social Sciences College & Our Current Research Efforts. A group of professors gathers at the front, name tags stuck to their button-downs and blazers. Sarah spots you as she sits down, pointing you out as she hands Joel his water.

“There – that one’s my mentor – the one in the plaid pants.”

Joel’s eyes follow her finger to the group at the front, scanning down the line. There’s a man, short and stocky with noticeably small hands hooked by the thumbs in the belt loops of his pants. Next to him, is a woman, taller than him, wearing a bright turquoise silk shirt, gold bangles decorating both of her wrists. And next to her is you, in the plaid pants.

Sarah had told him a lot of things about you, but she’d never mentioned that you’re fucking gorgeous. You’re smiling at something Turquoise Shirt has just said to you, and it’s like your entire face is glowing. Joel has to take a sip of water to collect himself.

He doesn’t take his eyes off you for the entirety of the presentation.

The dean of the college starts by briefly covering each department and what research efforts they have planned for the semester. Joel should be listening, he came here to listen – but he can’t get himself to focus on anything other than you.

You’re mostly focused on the presenter. Every so often, though, you distractedly toy with the buttons on your cardigan or twirl a strand of your hair between delicate fingers. And Joel is suddenly realizing how touch-starved he is after years of refusing to date – because just watching you, your hands – is about to send him into orbit.

You’re well-spoken too, he learns, when you take the microphone to discuss your current research project.

“This semester, I’ll be delving into the presence of food deserts in Vermont, and the effects these are having on the overall health of youth in the state,” you say. “We have received a sizable grant for this research, and I am thrilled to get started in a matter of weeks. This project will span the better part of the academic year as I speak to locals and craft surveys that will provide qualitative data to support my findings from the field.”

You press down on the clicker in your hand. A new slide projects onto the whiteboard. It’s a photo of you against the backdrop of a jungle, lush, green trees stretching past the top of the frame. The wide-brimmed hat you’re wearing covers most of your face – but that damn smile radiates through the makeshift screen.

“This is me last summer, in Peru. My research here was much more self-indulgent – I studied the important role that food plays in the average family there – and ate wayyyy too many sweets.”

The crowd laughs. It’s the first reaction they’ve expressed this entire time.

It’s entrancing, the way you command the room. You have such a calm confidence about you as you speak, words never once faltering as you stride back and forth across the front of the lecture hall. Joel isn’t much of a talker – maybe that’s why he feels like he could listen to you for hours on end. He thinks that you could read the damn phone book and his focus would remain unwavering. That your voice, velvet-soft, could spellbind him without much effort.

When your portion of the presentation ends, he’s more than a bit disappointed.

Students and their families filter out of the lecture hall. You situate yourself in a corner of the room for the actual Open House portion of the event, at the ready to answer any questions or, more likely, offer directions to another part of campus.

You smile as familiar faces and strangers alike pass you, reach for your to-go mug on the table behind you, and take a sip. The coffee is pretty much ice-cold now, but you still gulp it down, only after the caffeine anyway.

You place the mug back down with a light thud against the tabletop. Suddenly, a voice you’ve come to know well rings in your ear.

“Professor!”

When you look up, Sarah Miller is bounding down the aisle, signature smile plastered across her face. And there’s a man behind her, you notice, moving much slower.

He’s tall, broad shoulders pulling taut against the green flannel he’s wearing. He cradles a beige workwear jacket in the crook of his bicep,corded muscle visibly bulging against fabric. His other hand rubs at the scruff along his jaw, pointedly sharp in the patches where hair doesn’t grow.

He has a distinguishable nose, you notice as he gets closer, strong – large and hooked at the center of his tan face. It’s complemented perfectly by his plush, pink lips that seem to be set in a permanent pout.

In other words, he’s handsome – almost distractingly so, as he stands next to Sarah in front of you.

“I’m so happy to see you,” she beams – turns to the man next to her.

“Dad, this is my mentor,” She says your name.

He nods. His eyes meet yours. They’re deep brown, almost black – and undeniably entrancing.

“‘‘ts nice to meet you, Ma’am. I’m Joel.”

Ma’am.

It’s not like the word is foreign to you, given your profession. There’s something about the way he says it, though, that makes your head spin, his southern drawl dripping in honey-butter and bourbon.

Joel outstretches a hand. You shake it – try to ignore the way it dwarfs yours.

“Joel,” you repeat, eyes locked firmly on the space between his eyes. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“That was a great presentation you gave up there. You’re a good, uh – talker.” His expression is unreadable. His hands fidget at his sides.

You offer him a smile. “Thank you – I think? My students probably wish I would shut up sometimes. Right, Sarah?”

“Oh please,” she scoffs, “as if you’ve never seen your rating on Rate My Professor.”

She’s not wrong – you pride yourself on having pretty stellar reviews – but you also try your hardest not to let them get to your head. Sarah isn’t helping that, right now.

“Anyways,” she exaggerates the word, “what are you up to tonight, Professor? They’re holding an exhibition at the art center later, all student work – d’you wanna come with us?”

Your reflex is to say no. After all, he’ll probably be there. Your ex, Quentin, works in the art history department. And even though you’re over him, you’re not exactly looking for an excuse to be in the same room as him. But you technically don’t have plans tonight, and you can’t even think of a good lie right now with Sarah staring you down.

And then there’s Joel, standing in front of you, all broad shoulders and chiseled jaw – and you think, what a great opportunity to get to know him, you know, as the parent of your student. Definitely not as anything else, anything more. It is Homecoming, after all.

So, you say yes.

“Cool!” Sarah smiles, “Meet you there at 7?”

You nod, tell Sarah that sounds perfect, and that you’ll see them tonight.

Sarah starts toward the door. But Joel stands there for a moment longer. His eyes linger on yours, his wordless stare threatening to burn a hole in your head. You can feel the heat of it, beads of sweat beginning to form at the base of your neck. You tug at the collar of your shirt, trying your hardest to conceal them.

A beat passes. It looks like he might say something, his mouth opening then closing again.

He gives you a courteous nod, turns on his heels, and follows after Sarah.

Joel hadn’t remembered the food being this bad when he’d visited for orientation. He struggles to keep down a particularly rubbery bite of chicken and reaches for his water bottle, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he focuses on not vomiting.

Sarah laughs next to him. “Hey man, at least you don’t have to eat this shit year-round.”

He grunts in agreement. “Gonna cancel your meal plan next semester and jus’ give you the money to buy groceries.”

She hums. Cocks her head. “That means I’m gonna have to learn how to cook – do you think Student Housing has fire insurance?”

Joel wants to roll his eyes, but it’s definitely his fault – after all, he can barely fry an egg without setting off the fire alarm. Their freezer has always been well-stocked with TV dinners and tater tots. So instead, he just shrugs.

“So what’s this art thing tonight?” He moves on to the salad on his plate, decidedly much safer.

“I don’t really know – my roommate asked me to go, she has some pieces in it, I guess.”

He nods. “And your professor – that was nice ‘a you to invite her.”

Sarah nods, smiles. “Yeah – you like her, right? I mean, you’re sure you’re cool with me asking her to come?” She asks, a mouthful of lettuce.

“‘Course,” he says, attempting to keep his voice level, nonchalant.

“I know you’re not really one for meeting new people,” she teases.

He mock-glares at her. It quickly softens into a smile. “Nah – she seems cool.” It’s an understatement, but Sarah doesn’t need to know that.

She doesn’t need to know that her dad is attracted to her professor.

Joel thinks that he might not have been so great at hiding it, though, when a few hours later, in the middle of watching an unarguably bad student production of Macbeth, Sarah turns to him and whispers that she’s not feeling well.

“Hm, is that right?,” he whispers back, unconvinced.

“Yeah, must’ve been the food.”

“We ate the same thing, Sarah.”

There’s a shout on stage. The actor’s voice cracks.

“Well I dunno,” she continues, “My stomach just doesn’t feel good.”

“Yeah, and what about that thing with your professor?”

He can see her smirk even in the dim lighting.

“Shit, you’re right. And I don’t have her phone number, so it’s not like I can text her...”

She groans. Joel thinks she should be on that stage right now.

“We can’t just ghost her.” Joel has no idea what that means. He doesn’t bother asking.

“Sarah-” he starts.

“Please. She’s such a nice lady, she doesn’t deserve to be stood up.”

He could say no. It’s not like he knows you, owes you anything. But in truth, Joel does want to see you again. And he’s well aware that Sarah might be trying to set the two of you up – ever-perceptive and hell-bent on her dad being happy – but he tries not to think about how embarrassing that feels, his daughter playing matchmaker for him. Because he wants to spend more time with you, get to know more about you, if you’ll let him.

He’s barred himself from forming any kind of real relationship with a woman since Sarah’s mother left. Not because she’d broken his heart, but because he’d needed all of his energy to go to Sarah. As a single father, he had always feared that he wouldn’t be enough for his daughter – wouldn’t give enough – that growing up in a broken home would leave her half of a person. That fear had fueled him to be the best dad possible – to work overtime so that he could provide for them, to never miss one of her soccer games or dance recitals. And so, he had never even considered dating, not seriously, anyway. It would take attention away from Sarah, and he couldn’t risk that.

He’s found it difficult to shake this principle, now that Sarah has grown up. He often grapples with the fact that Sarah doesn’t need him as much anymore – that she’s her own person living her own life. He knows he could date now, could meet someone new, open his heart to them. But he’s so used to fighting that human need for companionship, that it feels almost unnatural to let his guard down.

But now there’s you – your megawatt smile and your impressive intelligence and your care for his daughter – and suddenly he’s forgotten his own rules.

“Okay; I’ll go.” It comes out entirely too enthusiastic.

He can practically feel Sarah’s accomplished, shit-eating grin burning into the side of his head.

You leave campus around four pm, once the last of the Open House participants have gone.

You take a shower when you get home. Then you order sushi – stuff rolls of yellowfin and salmon into your mouth as you sit at the dining table still wrapped up in your towel, trying your best not to spill soy sauce on the half-graded essays that litter the tabletop. When you’re done, you retreat to your closet, treading on damp feet across the waxy hardwood floor.

And you definitely don’t think about Joel – not when you debate what to wear to the art exhibition, not when your fingers accidentally graze one of your nipples as you put your bra on, not when you get distracted while pulling your panties on by the pool of wetness that has formed between your thighs.

You definitely don’t think about him – because he’s Sarah’s dad, and that would be wrong.

So it’s accidental when his name falls from your mouth, fingers pressed against your clit, visions of large, calloused hands flashing behind your closed eyelids.

You cover your mouth with the curve of your palm to prevent it from slipping out again. Sink back into the mattress.

Then you press your fingers down harder.

Joel feels like a first-year student, wandering aimlessly across campus in search of the art center. Sarah’s directions had been, well, brief. She’d insisted he’d be able to find it no problem. Now though, in the limited light of dusk, all the structures look the same, bleeding together like watercolors against the evening sky.

He does find it, eventually, a three-story brick building tucked between the library and what looks to be a dormitory. Bright, artificial light seeps through the windows that line the bottom floor. The double doors at the front are propped open, people slipping in and out of them as he approaches.

He looks for you outside, searching for a familiar head of hair, the brown cardigan you’d been wearing earlier. When he doesn’t see you, he reluctantly makes his way up the stairs and into the building.

He spots you almost immediately affixed in front of a painting, studying it intently.

You’re wearing a different outfit than the one you had on this afternoon – a merlot-colored slip dress and a cropped leather jacket. He struggles to ignore the way the satin clings to you, the curves of your body excruciatingly accentuated. He has to remind himself that he shouldn’t get his hopes up, shouldn't expect you to stick around for long once he lets you know Sarah isn’t coming. You’ll probably make an excuse to leave shortly after, and he’ll be back on Sarah’s couch within the hour.

After all, why would you stick around just to talk to him?

You don’t see him when he sidles up next to you. He clears his throat and you startle.

“Sorry,” he brings a hand to the back of his neck. “Didn’t mean to spook ya.”

You take a step back to face him and put a hand to your chest, your breath beginning to even. His eyes wander, for a moment, to where your fingers rest against your collarbone.

“Shit – it’s okay. Where’s Sarah?”

“She wasn’t feeling well, but she said I should still come. Is that – uh – is that okay?” He’s suddenly worried that this was dumb, that he shouldn’t have come, should’ve just let Sarah explain to you on Monday.

But your features soften then, a small smile forming between rosy cheeks.

“Joel, it’s fine; I appreciate you not ditching me.”

“‘Course,” he manages. He’s waiting for you to say something else – that you need to leave. But you don’t, and you both stand enveloped in the pregnant pause that lingers, bright overhead lighting and nerves giving Joel the start of a migraine he’ll have to ignore for the rest of the night.

He clears his throat. Turns to the painting in front of you. “So what’s this one, then?”

The painting in question is a mish-mash of shapes and colors. Joel can’t distinguish any one thing on the canvas. It’s all just a lot of…nothing. He knows it’s not for him when he thinks a preschooler with finger paints could’ve done this.

You bring your hand up to cradle your jaw, brows furrowed in contemplation. It looks like you’ll offer an actual, intellectual interpretation. So Joel isn’t prepared when instead, you say:

“Looks like a bad trip.”

A laugh bubbles out of him, the corners of his eyes creasing.

“Sorry,” you say, between giggles. “That was stupid.”

“No,” he says, swiping a hand over his jaw, trying to physically rub the embarrassing smile off his face. “You’re funny.”

He means it. He’s not sure how it’s possible that you’re funny, when you’re also so smart and interesting and gorgeous. It’s almost unfair. He thinks, fleetingly, that you’re way out of his league – a boring, old man like him.

You continue to the next piece, Joel following closely behind. It looks like it must be by the same artist. The same variation of shapes fill the canvas, just in different colors.

“Alright Cowboy, what’s your take on this one?”

Joel studies it for a moment – tries to find something he can pull out. Something tangible. Something funny, even.

He comes up empty.

“‘ts interesting f’sure. Lots of…colors,” he tries. He realizes how ridiculous he sounds. Laughs. “Shit…art ain’t really my thing,” he admits, arm stretched behind his head.

“So what is your thing?” Your voice is tinged with something – Joel tries his hardest not to let himself believe that it’s flirtation.

Your eyes are still fixed on the canvas in front of you. And Joel is thankful, because he thinks if you looked at him, let those eyes meet his, he’d break – tell you that right now, you’re his thing.

He doesn’t get a chance to answer either way, though, because he’s interrupted by a man’s voice behind the two of you.

“Wow. Didn’t expect to see you here!”

You whip around to face him. Joel turns too. The man is taller than you, but shorter than him. He’s wearing round, wire-frame glasses that sit like a suggestion on his nose, and a full suit, with a tie that has some god-awful, ugly pattern all over it. It looks like the art here, Joel thinks.

Joel’s eyes flit back to you, and he watches as your hackles go up. You back up, bumping into the canvas behind you. You curse under your breath.

“Quentin. Hey.”

“Glad you could make it,” the man, Quentin, says. He swirls a cup of what appears to be red wine in one hand. He leans in closer, brings the other hand up at the side of his mouth to conceal his words. “I know this isn’t really your scene.”

You shift uncomfortably. “Yeah,” you say. “I’m uh, venturing out, I guess. Trying new things.”

He laughs. It’s an asshole laugh, Joel notes. Everything about this guy screams asshole.

“About time!” The asshole puts a hand on your shoulder. You flinch. Joel’s hands instinctively bunch into fists at his side.

“So proud of you,” Quentin says. “Finally letting yourself be a little cultured.”

This guy can’t be serious.

You scoff. Grab his hand and flick it off your shoulder. He looks wounded. Good, Joel thinks.

“Yeah, because traveling the world has left me so very uncultured, Quentin.”

“Hey,” he puts his hands up. “Don’t take offense, baby. I know your little field trips are important, too.”

It’s the last straw.

In one movement, you’re pushing off the wall, shoving past Quentin, and making your way to the exit. Joel doesn’t say a word, doesn’t even look at the asshole, just follows after you out the door.

It’s gotten colder in the short time he’d been inside, he notices. A gust of wind nips at the exposed skin on his hands. He stuffs them haphazardly in the pockets of his jacket.

He finds you perched on the front steps, arms wrapped around your body protectively. He takes a few cautious strides forward. When you look up at him, you’re visibly distraught.

You groan as he sits down next to you. “Sorry. That was embarrassing.”

Joel wants to touch you, put a reassuring hand on your shoulder, but he knows he probably shouldn’t – not right now.

“‘ts not embarrassin’,” he says, instead. His warm breath materializes in the cold air. “Not for you, anyway. That guy was clearly an asshole.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “That was my ex-boyfriend.” You’re both quiet, then. The two of you sit there, side by side on the stairs, in comfortable silence. A few minutes pass. Joel notices you chewing on your bottom lip, like you’re considering something. When you speak again, your voice wavers.

“Would you want to go for a drink or something? It’s just, I really don’t want to be here anymore.”

For a moment, he can’t believe what he’s hearing – you’re asking him out? He takes a second to respond. You start to backtrack. “It’s okay if you don’t wan-”

“Hey,” he stops you. Makes sure you’re looking at him.

“I thought you’d never ask, darlin’.”

You breathe out a laugh. “Great.” Your hand drops to your side, brushing against his. He expects you to move it. He’s thankful when you don’t.

“I know a place–” you continue – “one that won’t be full of drunk college kids.”

“Great,” Joel parrots you. He stands, extends a hand to help you up. You take it, letting your palm rest against his for a moment longer than necessary when you’re upright.

“Cool,” you say, clearing your throat. You pull up the Uber app on your phone. Joel watches you book a driver. Then you turn back to him with a smile. It’s different from the one he’s seen before. It’s smaller, shyer.

“Larry will be here in 4 minutes,” you say.

The bar is a twenty minutes’ drive from campus – fifteen with Larry’s lead foot.

It’s more of a lounge than a bar, really – leather armchairs accompanied by low cocktail tables arranged throughout the single large, open room. A brick fireplace sits on the back wall, currently roaring with warm orange flames.

On either side of the fireplace are floor-to-ceiling shelves stacked with vintage books, their illegible titles etched in gold along weathered spines. You can imagine that their pages are yellowed and dusty, and it’s so tempting to swipe one off the shelf to see, to smell.

The light in here is warm, a stark contrast from the bright white of the art gallery. It’s comforting, and you feel your body immediately relax when you walk through the entrance next to Joel.

The bar at the front is busy (it is Saturday night, after all), so you and Joel stand at the back of the crowd for a few moments, waiting for the people in front of you to get their drinks. When a group of men start forcing their way through right next to you, Joel immediately puts a large hand on your shoulder, turning your body towards his. He’s just being chivalrous, making sure you don’t get shoved, but it still sends a shockwave up your spine.

When a spot clears in front of the bar, Joel steps forward, bringing you with him. He orders a whiskey neat, then turns to you, asking what you want.

It’s difficult to think with his hand still on you, so you go with the first words that come to mind.

“Same as you.”

He stares at you for a moment, amused, like he can see right through you and the fact that you’ve never had whiskey in your life. But you hold his gaze, challenging him with your eyes, and he drops it. “Make that two,” he tells the bartender.

Once you have your drinks, Joel slaps a few bills down on the bar. You can tell he won’t let you do so much as offer to pay him back, so you don’t. You lead him through the lounge to a couple of chairs tucked away in the back corner, partially hidden behind an antique wooden partition – far enough from the main seating area, but still close enough to the fireplace that you can feel its warmth.

This is where you always sit when you come, usually with coworkers, once or twice with him. Quentin had been pretty critical of this place, like he is with everything. He’d complained that the wine selection could be larger – that they could have more French options. When you’d explained that most of their wines come from local vineyards, he’d just rolled his eyes.

You’re still reeling a bit from your interaction with him at the gallery, even as you settle into soft leather and feel a burst of warmth against your cheek. He was such an asshole, you think, taking a cautious sip of whiskey. You’re immediately repulsed by the taste of it, and you do a poor job of hiding the grimace that automatically spreads across your face in the crook of your arm.

Joe laughs across from you. “Not your thing? I can go grab ya somethin’ else,” he offers.

“No,” you insist, “this is fine. Just need to get used to it.” It’s a lie – you both know it – but he doesn’t push it.

Instead he leans back, swirls his own glass – which looks comically tiny in his grip – and lets out an exaggerated sigh.

“So, your ex is a real dick, huh?”

“You can say that again,” you mumble.

He quirks a brow at you. “Why’d you even date him?”

It’s a fair question. Why had you dated him? Loneliness, maybe? You’d like to blame it on that, but it’s not the truth – not entirely. Quentin had been kind, at first. He had seemed so interested in you and where you came from and what you were passionate about. He was a relatively good boyfriend, all things considered – until he’d grown tired of hiding who he really was.

You’d gotten a substantial pay raise at the end of your second year at the university. When you’d told Quentin, he’d gone quiet – practically gave you the silent treatment for days on end. When you’d finally worn him down, gotten him to talk, the most he could utter was that he was happy for you; he just wasn’t sure why he hadn’t gotten a raise like that yet.

It’s not like you were in competition – you worked for two entirely different departments, in different colleges. But it had been a constant losing battle nevertheless, to get him to stop comparing your successes. And when he’d found out you actually made more money than him – that had pretty much been the nail in the coffin.

You tell Joel all of this. You’re not sure why you do – it’s not like you can blame the alcohol after one half-sip of whiskey. You feel comfortable with him though, here, like this. He’s a good listener, too, attentively nodding every so often as you ramble.

When you’re done, he’s quiet. He stares at his drink, pursing his lips.

After a beat, he looks up at you.

“You deserve better than that, darlin’.”

You almost crumble under his gaze. His eyes are at least two shades darker than they had been a moment ago – and there’s something lingering behind them that you can’t quite place. Whatever it is has you feeling weak.

“You barely know me,” you joke.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I know enough, though. Could do much better than him, I reckon.”

You want to ask him if he has anyone in mind, if he would be better for you, but you can’t – not yet – not this sober. You take another sip of your drink, breathing through your nose as it burns its way down your throat.

You talk for hours. He asks about your family; you tell him how you moved out here two years ago on your own after you finished your doctorate program. He’s impressed by that, says you’re brave. You tell him you’ve never felt very brave.

It’s all so easy, talking to Joel in the dimly-lit bar you’ve been to so many times before. Sipping on whiskey as if you actually enjoy it. It’s never felt so much like home — not the bar, not this town. The thought is dizzying.

He asks about Sarah, too, how she’s doing in school. He insists that she doesn’t tell him much, and if she does, it’s about you and how great your classes are.

“I had never even heard of anthropology before she decided to study it,” he admits. “But I’m glad she did. It’s her thing, f’sure.”

You smile, knowingly. “Yeah, it is. She’s a great kid, Joel. You raised her well.”

He shakes his head humbly, but you don’t relent. You want him to hear this, really hear this. Because you get the feeling he hasn’t been told enough.

“She’s not just smart, Joel. She’s good. She’s a good person. That’s kind of rare nowadays — especially among her generation.”

Joel chuckles, his head hanging between his shoulders.

“I mean, shit,” you continue, “she brings me pancakes from the diner just off campus whenever she knows I’m stuck in my office working late. My other students barely even ask how I’m doing most days.”

Joel hums in amusement. His eyes are locked on a wrinkle in the leather of the arm of his chair.

“Joel,” you say, pointedly. You wait for him to look at you. When he does, his gaze is uncertain. “She’s a good person —“ you repeat — “and that’s because you raised her to be.”

“‘ts just southern hospitality, is all,” he mumbles.

“No Joel – it’s you.”

He stares for a moment, his dark eyes narrowing. His jaw twitches. And then he breaks, finally, a smile pulling at his lips.

“Thank you.”

His voice is so soft suddenly. It throws you off. It also turns you on – like, a lot, the gravellyness of it scratching your brain and your loins. You dig your nails into leather in an attempt to steady your quickening heart rate.

“No problem,” you mutter sheepishly.

Suddenly, there’s a buzz on the table – Joel’s phone. He picks it up, squinting at the bright screen.

“Sarah?,” you ask.

“Nah, ‘ts just my brother, Tommy.”

He types out a quick response and re-locks the phone, placing it back down on the table.

“Everything alright?”

“Yeah, jus’ asking if I think hookin’ up with a client is a bad idea,” he laughs, shaking his head in disbelief.

You don’t know Tommy, but you like him already – seems like a fun guy. And clearly values his brother’s opinions. It’s telling, you think.

“That’s right – you’re a contractor. You and your brother work together?”

“Yeah, we got our own business back home.”

“And you like it?,” you ask.

“Used to,” he laughs, “when I was more limber.”

You laugh too. You can feel the heat of slight intoxication, and something else, in your chest, your inhibitions dissolving in your bloodstream. And suddenly that horrible idea you’d had earlier to flirt with Joel doesn’t seem so bad anymore.

“Still look plenty limber to me, Mr. Miller.” The words leave you before you have the chance to stop them.

Joel’s hands tense on either arm of his chair. Despite your buzz, you still have half a mind to worry that you’ve fucked up, that there’s a chance you’ve misread this whole thing.

But then he sinks back in the chair, the leather groaning under him. He rakes his dark eyes over you. And the way he’s looking at you is unmistakable. He looks hungry. You feel like your entire body has been set ablaze.

Without thinking, you stand up, take a couple of steps toward him. Scan the lounge. Most of the remaining patrons are huddled by the bar, talking boisterously among themselves. Tucked in your little corner, the two of you might as well be in a different zip code.

“Whatcha doin’, darlin’?” Joel smirks up at you as you stand unmoving in front of him. He takes one of your hands in his and traces gentle, reassuring shapes along the back of it with his index finger.

Without a word, you hike your dress up to your thighs and straddle him, knees digging into the leather on either side of his legs. He hums approvingly as you sink onto his lap and cup his face in your hands. He places his own on your lower back, just above your ass. “This okay?,” you ask. It comes out breathy and wrecked.

“C’mere,” he says in that syrupy drawl, and then one of his hands is on the back of your head, pushing you gently against him, your lips slotting to his.

It’s messy and all-encompassing. He kisses you with a fervency that confirms this hasn’t all been in your head –that he’s been wanting this too.

The voices of bar-goers and the clinking of glassware are suddenly muted. All you can focus on is Joel — the way he tastes like whiskey and cinnamon gum, the way one of his large hands comes to rest at the nape of your neck, fingers tangled in the hair there while the other remains on your back, steadying you. The way he licks into your mouth after a few seconds with a groan, causing you to reflexively bare down on his lap.

You feel his cock swell underneath you and you grind against it, laughing low and quiet against his lips when his entire body tenses. He pulls back, blinking up at you with glazed-over eyes. Joel, all six feet of him, looks wrecked.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he pants. He looks down at where you’re hovering over his now fully-hard cock. “Gotta stop. Otherwise you’re gonna make me cum in my pants like a damn teenager.”

You pout at him, lifting your lower half off of his. You don’t stand up, though – not immediately, anyway. Instead, you take his head back in both of your hands. He lets you, blinking up at you wordlessly.

You’d known when you’d first seen him earlier today that he was handsome, but right now, his face so close to yours – you’re seeing all of the little details – the scar indented in his forehead, just above his right eyebrow; the flush that stains his cheeks, which you can guess is partly from the alcohol, but maybe also from you. He’s biblically gorgeous, which makes it difficult to pry yourself off of him.

You do though, after a minute, smoothing down your dress once you’re back on two feet. You feel a bit breathless, suddenly. And exhausted.

What time is it?

You retrieve your phone from where it’s been lodged in the cushion of your chair.

You tap on the screen, waking it up.

12:47?! When had it gotten so late?

Joel stands, adjusting himself in his pants. You can’t help but giggle at him — big, tough man looking positively ruined after just a few minutes of being under you. You feel pretty accomplished. He rolls his eyes at you.

“Shut up — just get us an Uber.” You don’t miss the smile that sprouts between his cheeks when he thinks you aren’t looking.

You wait outside for your driver — John M.

The cold Vermont air is sobering. You feel almost normal by the time the car pulls up, save for the dull, throbbing ache between your legs. You will it away as you crouch into the back of the silver Nissan behind Joel. The sound of the radio playing soft rock hits is a poor distraction on the drive home.

“Wanna come in?,” you ask Joel when the car comes to a halt in front of your building. You watch him ponder it, eyes glued to the roof of the sedan. But ultimately, he shakes his head. “Can’t,” he says. “Gotta check on Sarah.”

You nod, try to hide your disappointment. “Right.”

You open the door. Just as you’re about to get out, Joel stops you.

“Wait,” he says. “Can I see your phone?” You’re confused, but you hand it over. You watch as he pulls up your contacts and clicks the ‘plus’ button in the corner, an understanding smile pulling at your lips.

When he hands the phone back, his contact now in it, you grab his from off the seat next to him and do the same.

“I’ll text you,” he promises as you step out.

You turn back to him. “You better.”

He’s smiling when you shut the door.

You’re smiling when the car pulls away.

It’s only when you’re tucked into bed, phone charging securely on the nightstand that the thought crosses your mind: you’re catching feelings for someone again.

And then you feel sick.

Joel wakes up the next morning feeling giddy. It’s like he’s a teenager all over again – waiting by the phone for a pretty girl to call him back. Only this time, he’s waiting for a text.

He had messaged you almost as soon as he’d gotten back to Sarah’s apartment last night, asking if he could see you again before he goes back to Texas. He has no shame about it, he can’t – not when his entire mind and body are consumed by his overwhelming attraction to you.

He’d found it difficult to sleep last night, and not because the springs in Sarah’s cheap couch were digging into his already-damaged back. It was thoughts of you, and the borderline-painful erection they caused, that had kept him up.

Now, with the sun seeping through the living room windows directly into his eyes, he doesn’t have much of a choice but to be awake. He checks his phone immediately, and tries to ignore the way his heart sinks when he sees you haven’t responded yet. You’re probably still asleep, he tells himself.

He tosses his phone aimlessly back onto the couch and stands with a groan. His legs feel worse than his back, if that’s even possible.

Sarah still isn’t awake, so Joel meanders into her kitchen, in search of something to eat for breakfast. It’s pretty much what you would expect from a college student’s kitchen – bare bones. There are a few suspicious containers of leftovers in the fridge along with a Brita water pitcher and a package of cookie dough. In the freezer, several cartons of ice cream (all chocolate) and half a loaf of bread. And finally, in the cabinets, a few boxes of mac & cheese and an unopened jar of peanut butter.

Toast it is, then.

Sarah appears just as he’s raiding her drawers for a butter knife. “Morning,” she announces sleepily behind him.

“Hey, Kiddo,” he says, turning to face her. “Hungry?”

“Yeah. There’s a diner down the street. Thought we could get pancakes.” She yawns.

Joel grins. That must be the place you’d told him about – the one Sarah brings you leftovers from when you’re working late.

“You buyin’?,” he jokes.

“Only in exchange for the juicy deets from last night.” She pauses. “Okay, maybe not all the deets. There’s some things I don’t need to know – like why you got home so late.”

“Sarah,” Joel warns, but she’s undeterred, smiling like a Cheshire Cat with every one of her unbrushed teeth on display.

“Just get changed,” she says, and skips out of the room.

You’ve been staring at the text for twenty minutes now.

Had a lot of fun tonight. Can I see you again before I leave? Let me know if you’re free tomorrow (today I guess). - Joel

You should say yes – you want to say yes – so why can’t you get your fingers to move?

It’s a stupid question. You know why – it’s Quentin and your inability to shake the fear that someone else will hurt you like he did. If you keep Joel at arm’s length – continue to ignore his message – he can’t do that. You can just take last night for what it was – a fun time, a hookup – and stop this before it goes too far, before feelings get involved.

Because it never ends well, once they do.

You get out of bed without responding, but you leave the text open on your phone. You attempt to busy yourself with housework and grading. Again and again though, you find your fingers hovering over the screen, your mind wandering to the way Joel’s lips had felt on yours, the way the bulge in his jeans had felt against your clothed heat, the sound of his southern drawl when he’d called you darlin’.

Then you snap yourself out of it and place the phone face-down on the table.

This goes on for hours, a vicious cycle. You feel your resolve slipping more and more each time you pick the phone up.

The sun is high in the sky by the time you break, light bathing your kitchen and revealing all of the spots you’d missed when you’d dusted earlier. Your phone is heavy in the palm of your hand like a bomb – like if you don’t hit send right now, you’ll lose the motivation and it’ll detonate, taking any chance of you seeing Joel tonight and not self-sabotaging with it.

You close your eyes when you press the button and toss your phone somewhere across the room.

Well – you think – no going back now.

Joel is sitting on cold, hard bleachers at the Homecoming football game when he sees you’ve responded, the shouts of people in the stands around him not enough to avert his attention.

Hey, yeah, that would be great! Do you want to come to my apartment later? I have a bottle of wine we can crack into if you’d like. And I can order pizza.

The announcer is saying something about player #72 over the loudspeaker. He doesn’t tune in.

Joel types his reply and sends it:

Sounds perfect. I’ll come over around 7?

Sarah groans next to him. “You wanted to come to this game, dad. If you’re bored already, can we leave?”

His eyes shoot up. “No, uh – sorry. Just had to answer one text.”

Sarah narrows her eyes at him. They dart to the phone just as another message rolls in, your name flashing across the screen before Joel can hide it.

“Is that my professor?”

Joel doesn’t answer. His silence confirms enough.

“I knew you guys hit it off last night! See, dad, even though you didn’t wanna tell me at breakfast, I still found out. I always find out. Because Sarah knows all.” She attempts a maniacal, Disney villain-esque laugh.

Joel raises an eyebrow at her.

“You done?”

“So you going out again later? Do I need to make your bed on the couch, or should I just not bother?”

He ignores her. Someone gets a touchdown and half the crowd goes wild. He doesn’t bother to check what team scored.

He opens your latest message, instead.

Perfect. See you then, Cowboy ;)

His breath hitches at the nickname, at the thought of you calling him that again in person. The thought of kissing you again, if you’ll let him.

He doesn’t catch who wins the game.

Joel arrives at your apartment at seven o’clock on the dot.

Punctual, you note.

He’s holding a bottle of wine, gripping the neck with long, calloused fingers.

“Know you said you had some already,” he says as he steps over the threshold. “Just didn’t wanna come empty handed.”

The sentiment takes you aback. You’re not exactly used to dates bringing you gifts, especially ones this expensive, if the minimalist yet fancy label is any indicator.

“Thanks,” you say awkwardly, taking the bottle from him. You can’t quite make out the name – something foreign, etched in cursive.

“‘ts Italian, I think,” he mumbles, as if he can read your mind.

Your eyes shift from the bottle to Joel, standing in front of you in his Carhartt jacket, brows furrowed, gaze trained on the floor at his feet.

“Thank you,” you say more genuinely this time.

Joel smiles appreciatively. You motion to the space behind you.

“Come in.”

You lead Joel to the kitchen, just off the entranceway, and place the bottle down on the counter, gently. You tuck yourself in the corner, leaning back to rest your arms on cool granite. Joel mirrors you against the adjacent island.

“How’s Sarah?” you ask. “Feeling any better?”

“Uh, yeah,” he says, rubbing at his scruff. “She was askin’ about you. Saw me textin’ you.”

“Yeah – guess you couldn’t exactly hide this from her, staying at her apartment and all.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Guess not.”

You pop open the bottle of wine. Pour glasses for both of you. Then you order pizza: one cheese, one sausage and pepper. The person on the other end of the line tells you it’ll be thirty to forty minutes.

“Gonna be a bit of a wait,” you tell Joel when you hang up. “Busy night, I guess.”

He nods, takes a sip of wine, and then places the glass down, his eyes unmoving from yours.

You realize then that he’d been staring at you the entire time you were on the phone. The way he’s looking at you – gaze the same as the one from the bar last night when you’d straddled him – has you feeling suddenly nervous.

“What?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asks.

Oh.

You breathe out a laugh. It’s not funny – really, the opposite – but you hadn’t been expecting him to ask that. “Joel-” you’re going to say yes – fuck yes – but he interrupts you.

“Been dyin’ to since last night.” He’s so open, so earnest. It’s fucking hot.

“Joel,” you say again, louder this time. He freezes. His eyes widen, like he’s anticipating your answer.

“Please.”

It’s all he needs to hear. In an instant, he crosses the distance between you. He places his hands on the counter behind you, framing your body with his. You peer up at him and, fuck – he looks ravenous.

He kisses you – hard. His teeth crash against yours. It’s messy and hurried, but you don’t care – you want him closer, need him closer.

Your head swims with memories of the feeling of his bulge against your clothed core. The need to feel it again is all-consuming. You’re greedy for it. And with the time constraint, you don’t want to wait another second.

You pull back abruptly. Joel furrows his eyebrows where he looms over you, concerned.

“Joel,” you pant, “I need you.”

It takes him a second to compute what you’re asking. And then he’s nodding furiously.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “Okay, darlin’.”

You pull him back in with a hand at the back of his neck, digging your nails into the skin there. His tongue slips into your mouth with a groan. You’re minutely aware of him shrugging his jacket off, hearing the light thump it makes when it hits the linoleum. And then his hands are on you, wandering up and down your body like he needs to feel every inch of you. He tugs at the base of your t-shirt impatiently.

“Off,” he mumbles against your lips. You pull back only to do as he’s asked, and then you’re right back on him, sucking a bruise into the skin below his ear, your body claiming him subconsciously. His head falls back momentarily, revealing his bobbing throat. You scrape your teeth lightly along the skin there, eliciting a groan from Joel.

Your mouth continues exploring his neck as his fingers find the clasps of your bra, unhooking them quickly and tossing it aside. You don’t see where. You don’t really care – you’ll find it later.

He grabs your now-naked sides and steps back, pulling you with him. Then he turns you and pushes you back against the island.

He slaps the countertop behind you. “Up,” he breathes against your neck. You don’t argue. You don’t want to argue. You’re so used to being the one in charge, the one in control — right now you’re happy to bend to Joel’s will.

You grip the edge of the island with both hands and hoist yourself up so that you’re perched there, legs dangling.

Joel’s fingers immediately go to the button of your jeans, popping it open before moving to tug the zipper down. And then he’s helping you lift your hips so that he can pull them down and off. He adds them to the pile at his feet.

You’re left in nothing but your underwear splayed out on your kitchen counter in front of him. You feel like you should be self conscious, maybe even embarrassed by your depravity. But you can’t find it in you to be either, not when Joel is slotted between your legs, his dark eyes scanning over you hungrily. Showing you he needs you just as bad as you need him.

He rubs his hands over your thighs and up the sides of your body, mapping your curves with great concentration. “God damn,” he whispers, what seems to be, mostly to himself. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.”

You whine pathetically. Your patience is growing thin.

He smirks up at you, likely seeing in your face how desperate you are for him right now.

“‘ts okay baby, I got you,” he coos, suddenly sinking to his knees in front of you. His hands move closer to your clothed pussy, but not quite there, tracing light circles along your inner thighs. Then he replaces his fingers with his mouth, sending your hips bucking off the counter, chasing him.

The coarse hair of his mustache scratches the skin surrounding where he sucks and bites. You don’t care. You just want to feel it lower, against your dripping folds.

“Please,” you breathe, shakily. Through hooded eyes, you catch Joel’s satisfied grin. You realize then that he loves this — making you beg for it, for him. It’s a dizzying contradiction to the way he was practically begging to kiss you just moments ago.

He presses a chaste kiss against your skin, his lips infuriatingly close to where you need them most.

“Whatcha need, darlin’?” he purrs. The vibration of his voice just next to your core has you spiraling.

“Need your mouth,” you cry. “Please.”

“Where?” He nips at you, half an inch closer to your swollen clit. You can feel his breath. Your cunt reactively clenches around nothing.

“On my pussy, Joel” you plead.

He pulls away from you completely, looks up at you with devilish eyes.

“Good girl.”

He dips one finger into the side of your underwear, pulling them aside to reveal your glistening core. “Damn baby, you’re soaked,” he drawls. You catch the hint of pride that tinges his voice.

“Please,” you beg again, your voice wanton and broken.

Joel gently pets your throbbing clit with the pad of his thumb. The pressure he applies is feather-light, barely there. But still, after all the teasing, you can’t help the embarrassingly loud moan that escapes you.

He chuckles darkly. “Alright sweetheart, I know – enough teasin’.”

He hooks both index fingers in the top of your panties, pulling them down and off in one swift movement. And then his tongue is on you, exactly where you need it.

He holds you open with fingers digging deliciously into the meat of your thighs as he licks long, languid stripes from your leaking cunt up to your clit, over and over again until you’re a whimpering mess underneath him. You struggle to hold your weight up on your elbows, watching him as he works you with his mouth.

He’s so good at this – too good at this. You tell him as much, between broken moans.

“Sofuckinggood Joel – holy shit.”

You swear you can feel him smirk against your heat.

He buries his face into your cunt then, nose pressed against your clit, and swivels his head back and forth, coating his mustache and beard in your arousal. He groans against you, like this is getting him off just as much as you. It’s all so obscene, so filthy.

You’ve never had a man go down on you like this – like they actually enjoy it. But then again, it doesn’t come as much of a surprise, not when it’s Joel. You’ve quickly come to learn that he’s attentive in every sense of the word. Knows just what you want, what you need – evident by the way his lips latch back onto your clit when you keen for him.

He keeps his attention there, switching between suckling on it – which is enough to make you see stars on its own – and lapping at it with short, shallow flicks of his tongue. He experiments with different angles, licking at different spots on the bundle of nerves until he finds the one that makes you cry out, your babbles of there Joel, yes, right fucking there, don’t stop, letting him know exactly where to focus.

You feel yourself quickly hurtling toward the edge. You just need a little bit more to get you there.

“Fingers,” you pant. “Need your fingers in me.”

Two of his fingers are at your entrance before you can even blink. You’re so wet that he slides them in easily, curling them against your walls. He expertly finds your G-spot, massaging it as his tongue continues to lap at your clit.

You gasp at the combination. It’s so good – so much. “Oh my god Joel, I’m so close,” you cry.

He doesn’t let up, doesn’t even look at you. His eyes are closed in concentration, fingers and tongue unrelenting. He’s lost in your pussy. You can tell he’s not going to come up for air until he’s given you an orgasm.

And it doesn’t take much longer – one, two, three more strokes of his fingers and you’re cumming hard.

Your vision blurs and your ears ring in your head. You’re vaguely aware that Joel is pinning one of your thighs down with his free hand to hold you in place as you thrash against the countertop.

He fucks you through it, your pussy clenching around his fingers as he continues to curl them against that spot, your clit throbbing against his tongue.

It is – without a doubt – the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had.

He doesn’t stop when you’ve come down, eager to milk every last drop from your weeping cunt. The overstimulation is too much. Your grip tightens in his hair, weakly attempting to pull him off of you as you whimper nonsense above him. You manage to exhale his name, or something close to it, and he finally lifts his face.

His eyes meet yours, dark and hooded. He looks absolutely pussydrunk.

The entire lower half of his face is soaked with your slick. His shiny, pink lips pepper kisses along your inner thighs, smoothing over the spots he’d marked with his teeth just minutes ago. You feel so sensitive – you shiver under his touch.

His smile curves into your skin. He leaves one last light peck and stands up, grunting at the ache in his knees. You laugh, but you can tell by the darkness still looming in his gaze that he’s not done with you yet.

He helps you off the counter, steadying you with hands gripping your sides as you find your footing. Your legs feel like Jell-O, a welcomed side-effect of the earth-shattering orgasm you’ve just had. You lead Joel to your bedroom, leaving your clothes scattered across the kitchen floor.

He backs you toward the bed as soon as you’re in your room, lips latched to the side of your neck. The backs of your legs hit the mattress, and then he’s lowering both of your bodies onto it, cradling your head in his hand as you settle underneath him.

He sits back on his knees, pulling his t-shirt over his head to reveal his broad, tan torso. You’re pretty sure you’re salivating, lost in the slope of his shoulders and the wide expanse of his chest. Your eyes trail lower as he undoes his belt, followed by the button of his jeans. He shimmies them off along with his boxers, his large cock springing free, tip shiny with pre-cum, and hovers back over your eager body.

He dips down and presses his lips to yours, prying your mouth open with his tongue. He’s remarkably patient for how hard he is, his erection pressing into your thigh as he kisses you, slow and wet.

One of his hands grips your jaw, the other pressed firmly against the mattress next to you. Minutes pass like that, you and Joel losing yourselves in each other. Then you remember that you don’t have all the time in the world – that your delivery driver could get here any minute. In truth, you’re not even fucking hungry anymore – not for pizza, anyway.

You snake your hand up to the back of Joel’s head, pulling at his roots lightly. “Joel,” you breathe when he lifts off of you, “please fuck me.”

He doesn’t have to be asked twice.

“How do you want it, baby?” he purrs in your ear, his warm breath skating over your skin. “How do you like it?”

You breathe out a moan. No man has ever asked you how you like it. They usually just give you a few sloppy, ill-timed thrusts, whatever they can muster before cumming and leaving you unsatisfied.

But Joel isn’t just any man.

“Hard,” you whine. “Need you to fuck me hard.”

He growls, low and dark. “‘ts right, sweetheart.”

He lines himself up with your entrance, rutting against your folds a few times to gather some of your wetness with the tip of his cock.

Then he sinks into you, slowly, stretching your walls as he notches further and further in. There’s a sweet, stinging pain, one you hope, fleetingly, that you’ll be able to feel tomorrow – like a keepsake from him.

You sigh when he reaches the hilt, his tip nudging your cervix. He stills, letting you get used to his girth and you have to dig your nails into his back to keep from writhing under him. You don’t mind if it hurts – you just need him to move.

“Please,” you whine, unable to stop your hips from bucking any longer. “I can take it, Joel.”

“Know you can, baby,” he coos, beginning to rock slowly inside of you. The pleasure is immediate, washing over your body like a warm wave.

He picks up the pace when he’s sure it feels good for you, dragging his cock halfway out of you and thrusting back in, over and over again.

He grabs both of your legs, bending them so that you’re spread wide open for him, and grips the backs of your knees tightly as he slams into you. He can get so much deeper like this, his cock hitting a spot you didn’t even know you had. You let out a labored moan, fingers anchored into his delts.

“Talk to me darlin — tell me how it feels,” he pants.

“So – fuck, Joel – so fucking good.”

Joel drops his mouth to your shoulder, nips at the skin there.

His voice is in your ear, a low snarl.

“‘Better than that fuckin ex, I bet.”

You’d be annoyed by his cockiness – if he wasn’t so right.

But he is, and so you parrot, “So much better.” And then, because it’s the truth, you add, “the best.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, his hips stuttering at your words. “Can’t say that angel, you’ll make me cum.”

He pulls out and slams back into you again, setting a new, devastating pace. He fills you up just to leave you empty, over and over again. You’re a babbling mess underneath him, couldn’t string two more words together if you tried. Luckily, Joel is happy to take over and do the talking.

“So fuckin’ pretty, babygirl. Make the most gorgeous noises, too.”

You’re so fucking close, you can only whimper in response. You feel your walls tighten around him.

He presses your foreheads together, his sweaty curls sticking to your skin. His eyes bore into yours.

“C’mon baby, show me – show me how pretty ya are when ya cum on this cock.”

He brings one hand down to your clit, rubbing sloppy circles over it as he continues spearing into you. You hike your newly-freed leg up over his lower back. A white heat licks at your spine. You barely have time to tell Joel you’re about to cum, your warning coming out a single cry of his name. He gets it, though, bringing you over the edge with his words.

“I got you, baby, I got you; you can let go.”

Your orgasm barrels through you, from the tips of your toes all the way up to your ears. Joel doesn’t let up his ministrations, talking you through it as you writhe under him.

“Thaaaats it. Good – ahh – good fuckin’ girl.”

The only word you can think of in your state of euphoria is his name, chants of Joel, Joel, Joel spilling from the back of your throat as you cum.

You’re squeezing his cock through your aftershocks, and you can tell he’s close by the way his thrusts become more and more uneven.

“Fuck – where do you want it?” he braces both palms against the mattress on either side of you.

“Inside – please, Joel,” you beg. “I’m on the pill.”

He curses in ecstasy, cumming seconds later with a series of low grunts. His hips stall as he spills inside of you. There’s so much of it – he’s nearly drowning your cervix, coating your walls with rope after rope of his spend.

He softens inside you, staying there for a long moment as you both come down from your highs. You’re sweaty, panting messes, and you can’t help but giggle at how spent you both sound.

“Good?” he asks, nosing at the space just below your jaw. It’s so soft, so gentle. Your stomach does a backflip.

“Yeah,” you say. “Really fucking good.”

He pulls out of you with a low, guttural noise. You sigh at the loss of him, your hand coming down reflexively to feel where he’s leaking out of you. His fingers graze yours, and he bumps them aside to scoop up some of your combined fluids.

He brings his wet, sticky fingers to your lips, humming when you immediately take them into your mouth and suck them clean, eyes unmoving from his the entire time. You bat your eyelashes at him, innocently as he pulls them out with a wet pop.

“Fuck,” he curses, “gonna get me hard again, angel.”

He lays down next to you, letting his head thump against the pillow, and flexes his biceps behind his head. You kind of hope he does get hard again, despite the fact that your whole body feels like liquid. Like if you were to try and stand, your legs would most definitely give out on you. They’re trembling right now, where you have them half-bent, heels dug into the mattress.

Your phone rings, then, snapping you out of your post-coital bliss. Fuck – the pizza.

You answer, trying your best to hide the undeniably fucked-out lilt of your voice as you tell the delivery person that someone will be right down.

Joel laughs next to you when you hang up. “I’ll get it – hold on.”

He jumps out of bed and dresses quickly. You’re gawking at him as he does. You can’t help it. This man – probably the hottest man you’ve ever seen – was just inside of you. You want to pat yourself on the back. He notices you staring as he’s zipping up his jeans and shoots you a wink.

Joel deadbolts your front door and disappears into the hallway. He returns moments later, shutting and re-locking the door, and strides back into your bedroom with both boxes. You can see the steam coming off of them through the cardboard.

He sets them down by your feet.

“In bed?” you ask, sitting up against the headboard.

“Well I’m not sure you can walk to the kitchen, darlin’.”

Your face heats. He has a point. But he doesn’t have to be so smug about it. You roll your eyes at him and mumble something nonsensical under your breath as you tuck yourself in under your duvet.

“What was that?” He quirks an eyebrow.

Long gone is the shy Joel from earlier this evening. He knows your body now, knows how hard he makes you cum. He’s a whole different man post-coitus – bolder. It makes you damn near melt.

And maybe you’re different now too. Because you’re pretty sure you’d give up your vow of solitude for him, if he asked.

It’s crazy, probably. You’ve only known Joel for two days, after all. But you can’t help the way that he ( and his dick) makes you feel. Like maybe there’s a promise of something down the line, however serious that something may be. You just know you want to give yourself the opportunity to experience it, no matter how it ends.

“Nothing.” You break, grin pulling tight at the corners of your mouth. “Just get me a slice of cheese.”

He lets his gaze linger for a second longer, the faux-threat of it heating you from the inside out. And then he’s vanishing into the kitchen, returning with two plates and a stack of paper towels.

He dishes up slices for the both of you, climbing into bed next to you and handing over yours.

He settles in with a content sigh.

You both eat in happy silence for a few minutes, Joel giving you a satisfied nod when he finishes up his first slice. “‘ts good,” he mumbles through a mouthful of food.

“Right?” you retort. “It’s my favorite pizza around here.”

He hums in agreement. Pulls the box of sausage and pepper onto his lap to grab another slice.

“So,” you start, “you’re heading home tomorrow?” It’s more of a statement than a question. You know he is. But still, part of you wants Joel to say no, tell you that he’s canceled his flight, that he’s decided to stick around for a bit longer.

“Yeah,” he says. You feel your heart sink. You silently curse yourself for being delusional.

“Are you excited?” you try. “To be home?”

He doesn’t respond right away – his forehead wrinkling and his lips falling into a small frown. You watch as he thinks on it.

“Not really,” he admits after a few seconds.

“I know you’ll miss Sarah,” you say, letting your head fall onto his shoulder.

He peers down at you with a heavy sigh. “So much…” His voice trails off, like there’s something else he wants to add, but can’t.

The air feels thick, suddenly – heavy. You try your best to lighten it.

“Can’t stay a bit longer? Let Tommy run things for a while?”

“No,” he laughs. “Pretty sure he’ll just end up screwin’ every client we got.”

“And you’d end up screwing every one of Sarah’s professors,” you tease.

His mouth falls open in mock-offense. He grabs at both your sides, suddenly, letting the open box of pizza slide off of his lap and onto the bed. He tickles relentlessly just under your ribs, causing you to squeal and squirm under his grip.

“Joel,” you cry in between fits of laughter. “Stop!”

“I don’t think so, darlin’,” he tuts. He removes one of hands momentarily, to toss your plate aside, and then he’s hooking one of his legs over your body, straddling you. He looks so big like this, his body hanging over yours. You feel content – safe. His hands release you, finally, coming to settle on either side of your head on your pillow. You blink up at him. He’s staring down at you with narrowed eyes.

“What?”

“Nothin,” he mumbles. “‘ts just, I wouldn’t, ya know. Sleep with anyone else, I mean. If you didn’t want me to.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You know that if you respond, it’ll come out way too eager. So you just blink at him again.

“Would you want to keep talkin’ after I get home?”

Yes, you want to say. Please. I don’t think I could go on without knowing if I’ll get to see you again – fuck you again.

You swallow. Collect yourself.

“Yeah. I would.”

You shimmy under Joel so that you can sit up. He straightens out, shifting his weight onto his knees. Takes both of your hands in his and pulls you up.

His eyes are still locked on yours. “I know we just met this weekend,” he says. “But I had a lot’a fun with you. I like you.”

Your cheeks warm. “I like you too, Joel.”

He smiles. “‘m glad.”

“Doesn’t have to be anythin’ serious,” he continues. Lets his fingers trace aimlessly along the inside of your arm. “We can jus’ see where it goes.”

“Yeah,” you nod, your heart squeezing in your chest. “See where it goes. I like that.”

And it’s the truth. You do. In the stillness, your legs tucked under the covers, Joel caressing you, you feel, for the first time in a long time, happy to not be alone. And you know you will be again, very soon, when Joel leaves to go back home. But then again, you won’t – not really. His voice will be there, a phone call away, and his body will be there, in the divot he’s left in your mattress. And you’ll have the promise of taking this slow, seeing where it goes.

You’ve never been so excited for the future.

end notes: tysm for reading! I may turn this into a series if people want more of these two <3 lmk hehe

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller #tlou fic #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #joel x reader #pedro pascal as joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #fiiyb

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inuyashaluver · 6 months

Note

just read your newest alexia fic and it was fantastic!! please write more for her (ideally rivals x lovers but I don't really care what trope because both your alexia fics are fantastic so I'm sure I will be happy with any alexia fic you write!)

past reminders - alexia putellas

alexia putellas x reader

description: in which you and alexia rekindle a old flame you both thought was completely destroyed

warnings: angst but happy! mentions of past situationships, heartbreak, swearing, spanish in bold italics! suggestive content, long - BUCKLE IN

a/n: i’ve been itching to write this lmao, thank you so much, my love!! i’m a sucker for enemies to lovers no word of a lie, please enjoyyyyy xx❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

if someone was to describe the relationship between you and alexia, it was simply pure hatred.

to put it quite simply, you fucking despised each other, and you both thought it was for good reason.

—

even though yours and alexia’s pit of hatred ran deep, it wasn’t always like this. you and alexia were originally best friends, going back to years and years of friendship ever since the both of you were 7.

the two of you were inseparable, playing football together, going to school together, spending each and every afternoon together. it was the best, you truly had so much love for each other, twin flames that couldn’t be put out.

as the years went on, you and alexia grew older. and as the two of you grew together, so did affection bubbling under the surface. you and alexia had feelings for each other and never said anything of it.

well until one day at 19, you and alexia were hanging out at her house after training for barcelona, both of you getting signed at the same time after your booming success in the spanish teams.

you and alexia were side by side on her bed, the both of you giggly as you chatted and debriefed, even though you saw each other at every moment.

you weren’t exactly sure how the conversation started but alexia brought up that she hasn’t slept with anyone yet. your eyes were so wide at the conversation and her forwardness, not really comprehending what was going on out of pure shock.

you both knew you hadn’t your first times yet and alexia proposed something that took your breath away.

“if we sleep together for our first time, it’ll be good practice for later” alexia said like it was nothing, turning her head to look over at you. your cheeks were bright red, refusing to look her in the eye,

“ale” you breathe out nervously, “it’ll just be one time, friendly sex, nothing more” her body moved to perch up on her elbow, looking at you expectantly, “i trust you the most”

you glance over at her and harshly swallow the lump in your throat, alexia’s eyes drifted to where your neck had movement and smirked gently.

“one time?” you say so softly, alexia almost couldn’t hear it, she chuckles with a nod, her finger lightly tracing along your arm, smirking when goosebumps trailed on your skin.

“mhm, nena (babe), one time” she grabs your hand gently, her smirk only growing when you nod slowly “okay”, she kisses the corner of your mouth,

“mamá and alba aren’t home tonight” she whispered, reading your mind before her hand slipped up your shirt.

“don’t be nervous, it’s just me” she smiles softly, your breath hitched when she presses her lips to yours, moving together messily before her tongue licked into your mouth, a groan escaping the back of her throat when your hands carded through her hair and gently tugged.

—

and to put it simply, it wasn’t a one time thing. it was regular. very regular. almost every night. especially when she moved out of her mother’s house and had her own apartment.

alexia refused to put a label on anything. you were her best friend and nothing more, it was casual, platonic sex in her mind. and unfortunately for you, your heart yearned for her. you loved her, how could you not?

your heart would lurch at how kind she was after sleeping with you, kissing you affectionately and always cleaning you up afterwards with utmost care and diligence.

“so beautiful” she’d whisper, pressing gentle kisses along the length of your nose before pecking your lips multiple times.

alexia would send you suggestive smirks when she saw you at training, her eyes lingering as you changed and making sure to wink at you whenever you’d watch her change.

she would touch you more than necessary yet no one caught on. her hands would linger on your hips or waist as she moved passed you, giving you subtle kisses when you’d get a goal or just played well.

alexia was a very affectionate person, so everyone just thought the two of you were doing your regular best friend routine, unaware that alexia would drag you to her apartment almost every night to leave you breathless, marked up and shaky at the knees.

she was still your best friend of course, she just saw it as an added bonus. but for you, you wanted to call her yours, for you to be hers but the catalan didn’t want that.

she’d tell you almost every moment she could, “you’re my best friend” a chip in your heart that only grew bigger as the years progressed.

this went on for years, almost 5 consecutively and it was shocking no one caught on. she didn’t just sleep with you, she slept with other girls and you knew that but she’d always come back to you.

“they’re not you, they don’t know me like you” she’d tell you like clockwork, always making your heart a little fuzzy when you knew it shouldn’t.

it was torcherous for you, you tried to stop giving into her every time, but she’d give you those puppy dog eyes as she interlaced your hands together and you were done for.

and funnily enough, everything came to a stop when alexia got a girlfriend. when alexia got a girlfriend, she threw you away at the expense of her girlfriend’s words, “why do you need a best friend when you have me?” and because alexia ‘loved’ this girl, she dropped you.

she never returned your calls, she only talked to you at training when it was necessary. she wanted nothing to do with you. it killed her and you.

the once happy, bubbly duo went through an extremely dark stage at this point. you filling the void with random girls from team bonding nights at clubs and always regretting it later.

and whenever you would, alexia would fucking rip you apart over it. even after weeks of not talking.

“you look a little desperate, no?” she spat out as she walked up next to you at the bar. “fuck off” you glare at her, about to move away before she grabbed your wrist and pulled you back,

“it’s pathetic” she stares down at you, you roll your eyes in response. alexia could be with other people but god forbid you did.

“you’re pathetic, you can be with someone and i can’t?” you laugh humorously, alexia’s gaze growing colder by the second, a contrast from the warm alexia you loved so much.

“i have a girlfriend, i'm not throwing myself at anyone” another chip at your heart. from then on, alexia was truly nothing to you. you pushed her away harshly, promising that she wouldn’t have to see you anymore.

you left in a rush that night, making an effort to text your manager that you wanted to transfer in the upcoming window. so when the contract for madrid came along, you accepted.

—

you didn’t mind madrid, it was good for you. you were away from alexia and were actually strengthening your playing style and making some friends. and for you, a bonus was how mad it made alexia.

whenever madrid and barcelona would verse each other, people would definitely notice how much you and alexia hated each other.

the filthy looks said it all and not to mention the harsh words and dangerous tackles that would be made by the both of you.

when your spanish teammates would come over to you with bright smiles and warm hugs, you loved to watch alexia’s pissed off expression.

she’d get pissed when you wouldn’t even hug her as congratulations, you would shake her hand dismissively and take yours back like hers was made of fire. and yeah, maybe you were being a little childish, but she was too.

“you won’t die if you touch me, you know? but it’s fine when you fucking push me to the ground everytime i get the ball” she’d grit out, only make you grin in satisfaction,

“poor alexia, tell your girlfriend to kiss you better” you pout sarcastically, making an effort to bump her shoulder with yours as you walked past. you knew alexia was currently single, but you knew she hated when you brought up the girl. so you did it frequently.

you’d both get worried expressions from teammates after each time you interacted with each other, gaining a dismissive wave from both of you.

no one knew what happened, and you wouldn’t tell anyone what happened, and neither would alexia.

so everyone had to deal with the two of you being insufferable whenever in the same vicinity.

—

during camp for spain, you’d both give each other hell. it didn’t matter if you were on the same team, the arguing actually got worse.

“your passes are sloppy” alexia would say when you touched the ball, making you roll your eyes with a groan.

“okay, la reina (the queen), sorry we’re not all perfect” you narrow your eyes at her, making a show of kicking the ball harshly to her, hitting her shin as you sent her a sticking sweet smile.

she hated that that nickname when it fell from your mouth, wanting to just wipe that fucking smile off your face.

“don’t be jealous” alexia says smugly, you scoff at that, crossing your arms over your chest, “i would never be jealous of you” you look her up and down, the two of you approaching each other slowly as the argument heightened.

“oh really? isn’t that why you moved to madrid, couldn’t handle that i was better?” she’s up close to you now, your chests mere centimetres away from each other.

you breathe heavily as you look up at her, “yeah, i did move to madrid to get away from you” you argue, making her chuckle condescendingly, “good to see you have no loyalty” she darts her eyes between yours, trying to rile you up and it was certainly working.

“you want to talk about loyalty? remember you dropped me all those years ago?” you laugh in disbelief, body tingling with how close alexia was to you, a vast contrast to what you would do in the past at this proximity.

“i had my reasons” she says warningly, not wanting to get into this subject in the middle of training. “yeah, don’t worry i remember the texts, ‘i can’t be around you anymore, sorry’” you mock her,

“all because of that fucking girlfriend of yours, you dropped years of friendship with me” you send her an icy glare, one she was quick to return, “again with the jealousy” she mocks, you’re quick to give her a shove, “fuck off, putellas” you grit, alexia comes right back, her eyes boring into yours.

“you’re a child” she challenged, “excuse me?” you bite back, “you’re. a. child.” she breaks down each word intentionally, making sure it lingered in your ears. you’re both heavy breathing at this point, faces dangerously close to each other.

“i’m the child? you’re the fucking child, alexia!” you exclaim, now mapi and jenni coming over to separate the two of you.

“you’re both children, enough” jenni warns, pushing alexia by the chest away from you as mapi held you back.

“best friends for years and now you can’t even talk to each other like adults” mapi scolds, you and alexia sending each other glares and mouthing insults at each other.

“she knows what she did” you spat out, letting ona drag you away. alexia watched as you left, sighing heavily when her mind raced with all those good times you had. she missed you, dearly. she was just terrible at showing it.

—

it was childish for the both of you, but alexia had broken your heart so many times, you felt like you were just protecting your peace.

alexia did feel bad for the way she dropped you, she did love you, truly as much as you did with her. but she couldn’t bring herself to put a label on things with you just out of pure fear.

at first, she didn’t want to lose you, alexia wanted to shield you from everything bad in the world and tell you everything was going to be okay with a kiss.

but alexia thought she fell in love with her ex girlfriend and listened to her, even when she had feelings for you.

she didn’t know how harsh the consequences would be. losing you completely tore out a piece of her soul.

—

it was during a random match between madrid and barcelona in 2020 where things took a shift, just before off-season. the score was neck and neck, a typical harsh match between the rivals.

you and alexia still ‘hated’ each other but were much more tame about it, just choosing to ignore each other rather than outwardly argue.

you were on the ball when a defender from barcelona came up from behind you out of no where, making you attempt to dodge around her until a sharp pain shot up your knee. a pop.

you went down with a piercing scream, the sold out stadium going quiet at you clutching your knee in pain. and funnily enough, the first person to you was alexia.

“move away from her” she spat out, her hand coming to the back of your head and placing it on her thigh. you weren’t even comprehending who it was at this point, just enveloped by the comforting scent that once gave you a sense of home.

“you’re okay” she breathes out, cradling your head to her stomach as you cried out, “ale, my knee” you choked out, alexia hushes you, her thumb brushing your cheek as she held you close, waiting for the medics to come arrive.

once they were assessing you, alexia was about to move but you clutched her hand, “no-” you start, “just, stay for a second” you look up at her pleadingly, she nods, her hand giving you a gentle squeeze.

once you got told the dreaded three letters, your tears started again, rolling down your cheeks as you held onto alexia. she welcomed the contact like a second nature, both of you gaining a sense of security you hadn’t had in years.

“breathe” she says softly as you get situated on a stretcher, “you’re okay, i promise” she says while looking right into your eyes.

you feel like you’re 19 again, absolutely head over heels for this girl, some of those old feelings lingering in the pit of your stomach.

you get carried off and barcelona wins the match, alexia comes to find you without a second thought. she takes a deep breath before you she knocks on the door of the physio room, hearing a sniffle and a soft “come in”.

“hey” she swallows, hovering near the door as she saw you with your knee braced and iced. “you can come inside” you chuckle, alexia stiffens but walks in, sitting in a chair next to you as you stare up at the ceiling.

“i have surgery in two days” you blurt out, alexia never takes her eyes off you, watching as some tears still roll down your cheeks. “who’s taking you?” she questions softly, you let out a deep sigh.

“i haven’t gotten that far yet, my knee just popped” you tease, making alexia smile softly. the both of you never thought you’d be this civil after all this time.

“i’ll take you” alexia said simply, your head snaps to where she was, “i can’t ask you to do that” you stumble out,

“you’re not, i’m offering” alexia shrugs, “then i can’t accept your offer” alexia huffs in annoyance, “fine, it’s not an offer, it’s happening” alexia says sternly, you knew there was nothing to argue about.

there was no way you could go all the way to madrid in your condition, staying in barcelona for surgery was just a no brainer at this point.

“are you sure?” you say hesitantly, “positive” she says earnestly, smiling at you gently while you returned an appreciative one.

alexia forced you to stay at her house, getting your stuff from the hotel and setting you up in her guest room. it was a little awkward, not really knowing how to converse with a girl you’ve known for years of your life yet was your borderline enemy for years as well.

though with a little help of your injured knee, alexia and you managed to chip away at that awkwardness.

when you woke up extra sleepy from surgery, alexia gave you a comforting smile as you came to your senses, only leaving the hospital room if it was completely necessary.

“how are you feeling?” alexia said softly as she adjusted the pillow behind your head, fussing with the blankets until you swatted her hand away with a soft laugh.

“i’m fine, calm down” alexia drops the blanket with a sheepish grin and sat down on the chair next to you,

“ale?” you breathe out, she hums as she looked up at you, “thank you” you look over at her, her eyes are a little glossy but you chose to dismiss it.

“you don’t have to thank me, you’d do it for me” she smiles, you nod slowly, it was true, no matter how much you thought you disliked her throughout the years, you would help her in a heartbeat. no matter the time or place.

suddenly you start laughing and alexia gives you a questioning smile, “sorry i just,” you start, turning your head to look at her properly, “i didn’t think this would be happening after all these years” alexia nods along with your words with a little chuckle,

“i’m surprised you haven’t bitten my head off yet” she teases, “never say never, putellas” you warn teasingly, both of you laughing together in a little moment of solitude.

—

alexia was incredibly patient with you when you got discharged from the hospital, walking beside you with your crutches at your pace while sending you encouraging words and smiles.

“take your time” she says as she hovers next to you, ready to catch you if you fell. she helped you into the car and literally carried you into her apartment despite your protests to save time, wanting you to rest on the couch as soon as possible.

she was grateful about the time off, she doesn’t think she’d be able to train or play without you clouding her mind. she finally felt like she got you back, even if it was just a tiny piece.

she elevated your knee and tucked you in with warm blankets, making you a tea and sitting next to you as she encouraged you to put on something to watch.

her heart warmed when you put an old childhood favourite of both of you. a wave of nostalgia hitting you both. she kept glancing at you every couple of seconds,

you both laughed with each other at the movie, subconsciously quoting some parts of it with each other and recounting old memories. suddenly a wave of sadness hits alexia because she realised how much she’d lost.

when you realised she stopped laughing along with you, you glance at her nervously and give her a worried expression.

“are you okay?” you say softly, alexia shakes her head, tears pricking at her eyes seeing your soft features, you gesture to her to come closer and she sits on the couch facing you, the tears rolling down her face as she sniffled.

“ale, what’s wrong?” you place a hand on her thigh and she flinches, you pull it away slightly but she holds onto it instead.

“i’m so sorry” she chokes out, looking at you tearfully, you can feel your heart break a little at how she was crying, your eyebrows furrow in concern,

“what-” you start before she interrupts, “no, please let me speak” she sniffs, gripping into your hand tightly,

“i’m so stupid, there aren’t enough words to tell you how sorry i am for letting you go the way i did, you didn’t deserve that” she begins,

“i was clueless for listening to my ex, you were there for me through everything and i put you aside like you were nothing” she blubbered, each word clutching your heart.

your own tears begin to escape your tear ducts, “but you’re not nothing, you’re everything, you were my everything and i let you go when i wanted you, i’ve wanted you forever” she pronounced, looking right at you to make sure you heard everything she said.

“i love you, i always have” she expressed, your mouth hung open a little at the three words. silence settled over the two of you, hands still tightly interlaced.

“i love you too” you admit, alexia’s face lights up, only you shake your head for a moment, “alexia, you need to understand that you really hurt me, and i know i fucked up too, we both did” you start,

“if we were to give this another try, it needs to be slowly” you fiddle with the blanket on top of you, the two of you are still crying, still not believing this situation was real.

she agrees without hesitation, “i’ll do anything you want me to, hermosa (beautiful)” she breathes out.

her free hand moves to wipe a stray tear off your cheek, making you give her a wet laugh before you pulled her into an awkward positioned hug but you both didn’t mind, you’d both finally woken up to yourselves. you loved each other.

—

for the next few weeks, you and alexia grew closer and closer, finally falling back into that special relationship you had with each other.

it was going slow for about two days until the both of you broke under pressure and just gave into each other, acting more like a couple than you ever have.

“hi, bebé (baby)” alexia cheeses out when she sees you sitting on the couch, you crane your head back to look at her, giving her an affectionate smile that she was quick to return.

she presses a sweet kiss to your lips, a languid kiss that had you both sighing into each other's mouths.

she pulls away from you with an exaggerated peck to make you laugh, plopping down beside you and directing your head to her shoulder, you cuddle into her with a satisfied smile, her scent calming you down instantly.

—

it wasn’t a surprise that once you were fully recovered from your acl, you made your return to barcelona. once you made your comeback, you and alexia weren’t hiding anything anymore.

it felt good to claim each other as your partner, an endless amount of support sent your way.

you and alexia were quite literally joint at the hip once you finally moved in together, barely any time wasted when it came to the two of you, alexia claiming you needed to make up for ‘lost time’.

with the amount of devotion alexia gave to you, you forgave her, it took a while but you both wanted to move on from it, a fresh start for the both of you.

some of your teammates in the spanish team still found it hilarious when they found out why the two of you hated each other, still finding it a little baffling to see you so loved up at training.

—

“ale” you send her a half hearted glare as she sat in her cubby watching you get changed for a national game.

“yes, bebita (baby girl)” she grins at you smugly, you cross your arms over your chest, walking over to her and giving her a challenging expression. she grabs your hips and tugs you forward, making you sit sidewards on one of her thighs.

“not funny, where is it?” she chuckles at your mock anger, pressing tender kisses to the underside of your jaw,

“where is what?” she mumbles against your skin, you squirm slightly when she reaches your pulse point, slapping her hand that was now squeezing your thigh.

“my jersey” you groan, alexia lets out a little laugh, kissing your cheek repeatedly, “it’s right there” she points out, suddenly you stand up, grabbing her hand and making her stand in front of your cubby, looking at her expectantly.

“what does that say?” you point at the jersey hung up, “putellas?” she grins, “smart girl, who’s jersey is that?” you try not to laugh, “yours” she smiles wider, her hand dropping yours to wrap around your waist, making you stand in front of her as she continued to kiss your cheek softly.

“in case you forgot, that’s not my last name” you say amusingly, feeling her smiling against your skin as she gave you a gently squeeze.

“it will be soon” she grins, flipping you around so you could face her, “propose first” you say cheekily, patting her cheek with your hand. she turns her hand to kiss your palm, a silent promise that it was happening soon. (happened a week later)

“you’re no fun,” she pouts mockingly, reaching above you to retrieve the jersey that actually said your name on it, giving you a shit eating grin as she watched you get changed.

“children” mapi and jenni say at the same time, watching as alexia pulled you into another kiss that took all the breath out of your lungs.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you! ily jenni x

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alexiaputellas: she thinks she’s the boss

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yourname: i am the boss

↳ alexiaputellas: it’s so cute how you think you are bebita (baby girl)

↳ yourname: i literally am?

↳ jennihermoso: oh she definitely is

↳ marialeonn16: 100% is

↳ alexiaputellas: a bunch of traitors

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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whatdoeseverybodywant · 1 month

Text

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

All OC Characters belong to me

Summary: He's been gone for 4 months. 118 days without a phone call or a text. What happens when he finally shows back up to work? Will he give Kaela the answers she's looking for?

Parings: Roman Reigns x Black OC

Word Count: 2.2k

EDIT: I Forgot to give props to my girl @paigereeder ! She helped me out tremendously! Without her, this jawn would not have gotten done lmao.

youtube

Friday Night Smackdown August 2nd, 2024

Where will you go now? Now that you're done with me Where will you go now? Now that you're done with me

Kalea Crawford stared down at her phone in shock. She could feel Jade and Bianca's gaze on her so she tried to school her features but the bold headline at the top of the page made her furrow her eyebrows. She felt like she was about to throw up.

“Girl, are you okay?” Jade asked, her voice filled with concern.

“I’m fine,” Kalea replied a little too quickly, her eyes still focused on the phone. All three women knew it was a lie though. Kalea was anything but ‘fine’. If there was a word to describe how Kalea felt it was devastated. The longer she stared at the tweet the more she wanted to scream in frustration and anger. How could he do this to her?

“When’s the last time you talked to him?” Bianca spoke up this time.

“It’s been a while.” Bianca and Jade shared a look.

“How long is ‘a while’?” Jade pressed.

“I was giving him time, you know? He’s been dealing with so much these past couple of months, and I just thought.” Kalea trailed off with a shrug.

“Lele -”

“The day after Wrestlemania.” She kept her eyes cast downwards so as not to see the disappointed look on Jade and Bianca’s faces.

“Wrestlema- Girl that was four months ago!”

“I know,” Kalea whispered. She knew it was dumb but like she said, she was giving him time. He had just lost the Universal Title and had a bunch of personal shit going on. Every time she texted him, he either responded with one-word answers or he didn’t respond at all.

I don't blame you You should be done with me I don't blame you You should be done with me

Was it naive of her to think he was still her boyfriend after not speaking for four months, Yes. But, she was in love. Kalea finally looked up, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I just didn’t want to push him,” she admitted softly. “I thought he needed space to figure things out.”

Jade shook her head in disbelief. "Lele, I get trying to be understanding and all, but this is next level. Four months without a single proper conversation? That's not space, that's practically radio silence."

Kalea let out a humorless chuckle as she looked back at the pictures of Roman and his ex-wife. “Well, at least now I know why he hasn’t been answering my calls.”

“You don’t deserve this,” Jade whispered and Bianca nodded, agreeing with her. “You are a bad bitch! You can get any man in here that you want.”

“Aht!” Bianca cut Jade off, holding up her index finger. “Not any man.” Kalea laughed as she wiped away her tears.

“Girl, you know what I meant. Don’t nobody want Kenneth's ass but you.” Jade pushed Bianca’s shoulder. “Anyway, fuck Roman.”

I should've waited somehow I shouldn't have pushed so hard I always push too hard And now it's just a blackout

Kalea was grateful for her girls, but in the back of her mind, there was this nagging thought that his ghosting her was all her fault. She should have waited. She should have peeped game. Maybe if she had kept her mouth shut she would have been the one in his arms at the beach.

What the fuck was she thinking? Why had she sent him that fucking text message? She kept replaying the moment she hit send on that message, wishing she could take it back. He had already told her not not fall in love with him, but how couldn’t she?

“Unh-Uh. No!” Jade exclaimed, knocking Kalea out of her thoughts. “You are not gonna sit there and wallow. Him being a dickhead is not your fault!” Even though she and Jade had only been friends for about 4 months, she could read her like a book. “I will not sit here and let you cry over him! No, wipe them tears, and go fix your makeup.” Kalea scoffed out a chuckle as she looked at Bianca who held her hands up defensively.

“You heard her. Go get yourself together.”

SummerSlam August 3rd 2024

kalea_wwe

liked by jadecargill, biancabelairwwe, and 193,867 others

kalea_wwe: so, if I don't win, y'all gon riot right?

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trinity_fatu: u took this out my closet didn't you?

↪kalea_wwe : 🤫

jadecargill: that's my future champ! (❤️ liked by author)

rachelanoai: @ vananoai: this her right?

↪kalea_wwe: this ain't what u want sis.

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I should've treated you better Used to deal with lames 'til she ran into a stepper

If looks could kill, Joe would have dropped dead where he stood backstage talking with Paul Heyman. He could feel their glares as he stood there going over tonight's plans. He knew he was an asshole for what he did to Kalea, but he was scared. Her love scared the fuck outta him. Being in love with her scared the fuck outta him. To everyone else, he was Roman Reigns, The Tribal Chief, The Head of the Table, but to her… to Kalea, he was just Joe.

Kalea didn’t care about any of that. She didn’t care if he was the Undisputed Champion or the face of the company. She saw him for him. And that terrified him more than any opponent he had faced in the ring. The vulnerability Kalea stirred in him was a weakness he couldn't afford to have, not with his reputation on the line. He had pushed her away to protect himself, but all he had done was push away the one person who truly saw him.

“Big Uce!.” Joe felt a genuine smile come over his face as he turned to see Josh approaching with his usual easy-going grin.“Whats good man!” Josh then turned to Paul. “OG,” He saw Josh’s eyes shift from his face to behind him. “Wassup with them?” Joe sighed and turned his head slightly to look at Bianca and Jade who still looked like they wanted to kill him.

“Nothing just-” Joe replied, stopping short as he felt all the air leave his body when he saw Kalea walk up to Jade and Bianca dressed in her ring gear. This was the first time he laid eyes on her and his heart clenched painfully in his chest. Kalea's presence stirred up a whirlwind of emotions within Joe, his heart aching with regret and longing. Her eyes met his briefly, a flicker of hurt and disappointment clouding her gaze before she turned her attention back to Jade and Bianca.

He couldn't bear the weight of her gaze, the silent accusation piercing his soul. Joe clenched his fists, trying to suppress the overwhelming guilt. He knew he had to make things right with Kalea, to explain himself and beg for her forgiveness. But would she even listen?

Kalea had a timid smile on her face as she looked at her two best friends. “Girl you look bomb!” Bianca said and Kalea let out a breath.

“How you feeling?” Jade asked, her eyes flickering behind Kalea’s head before flicking back to Kalea.

Kalea’s smile faltered a bit. She went to turn her head to look behind her, to see if Joe was still there but Jade grabbed her cheeks and held her head. “Jade,” Kalea trailed off with an eye roll.

“How. are. you. feeling?” Jade repeated.

Kalea sighed “I feel fine, a little nervous but I got this. You are looking at the newEST WWE Women’s Champion. ”

“Alright now!”

“Oh fuck.” Jade whispered, her smile had dropped and now a panicked look was on her face.

Kalea’s brows furrowed. She opened her mouth to ask what the problem was, but before she could get it out, the problem spoke.

“Kalea, can we talk?” Kalea felt her heart start to beat faster as she turned to look at Joe. He had his hair slicked back into a bun, his new OTC merch, some sweatpants, and a pair of Air Jordan 1s.

“I-”

“She can’t” Biance spoke for her, arms crossed over her chest as she and Jade mugged Joe. Joe sucked in a deep breath already annoyed with Jade and Bianca.

“Kalea?” He ignored Bianca’s statement, keeping his eyes on Kalea.

“I won’t be long.” She said softly to Jade and Bianca. Bianca looked like she wanted to protest but Jade placed a hand on her shoulder and led her away from Kalea and Joe.

I was fine with you bein' one of my hoes, for sure She said she seen us bein' somebody goals, what are those? I thought about givin' you the key to my heart, but it's froze

Kalea walked a few steps away with Joe, a mixture of nerves and curiosity swirling in her stomach. This is it. She thought. She kept her eyes downcast as they made their way to an empty part of the stadium. She could feel his eyes on hers but couldn’t find it in her to look up at him.

“Kalea, can you look at me please?” The emotion in his voice shook her to her core. As she slowly lifted her gaze to meet Joe's, she felt her heart skip a beat at the intensity of his stare. His eyes held a mixture of vulnerability and determination, making her breath catch in her throat. “I’m sorry.” He finally whispered after a moment of them just standing there, staring into each other’s eyes. “I should have responded to your messages.”

“Why didn’t you?” The pain in her voice damn near broke him. “An ‘i’m alive’ would have sufficed Joseph.”

“Kalea –”

You know the love was X-rated, it's how we made it

“It was because of my text message wasn’t it?” She cut him off. “You –, Because I told you I loved you? That’s why you ghosted me?” She wrapped her arms around herself as if she was bracing herself for his response.

Joe’s face fell as she shifted on his feet, his guilt apparent. He took a deep breath as if steeling himself against a storm. “It’s not that simple,” he began, but Kaela cut him off.

“Not that simple?” She scoffed, her arms falling to her sides. “So fucking me was simple, but loving me isn’t?”

“Kalea that not –”

“No, I totally get it.” She cut him off with a chuckle but wasn’t shit funny. “You were okay with the physical part, but when it came to actually feeling something, that was too much for you.”

Joe took a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to maintain control over his emotions. “Kalea, it’s not that I didn’t care. It’s—”

“Not that you didn’t care?” Kalea rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “If you cared, you would have faced it head-on. Instead, you just ran away, like a coward. I understand you told me not to fall in love with you, but you shouldn’t have been doing all the right shit for me to fall in love.” Kalea angrily wiped away the tears that fell. “All the dates and the – the little gestures. The way you looked at me, the way you held me. How was I supposed to not fall in love with that!?” She was damn near shouting now and she was grateful the part of the arena they were in was empty besides the two of them.

She needed angles, I need angels, I'm fightin' Satan Leave me faded, I feel painless, I go out gracious I'm tryna feel a shade of greatness by celebratin' Bring entertainment, goin' brainless, like goin' dumb on my hiatus

Joe knew he messed up. He knew it when he ignored her first phone call. “I’m sorry.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He just wanted her to know how fucking sorry he was.

Kalea shrugged "Sorry doesn't cut it,. Not this time. "

She turned to leave, but Joe reached out, grasping her wrist gently. "Wait, please. Let me explain."

Kalea pulled her wrist out of his grip. “It’s a little too late don’t you think Roman?” Joe’s heart fell to his ass. Roman? She was calling him Roman now? “You had four months to explain. But you didn’t want to explain to me then huh? You didn’t want to answer any of my text messages or phone calls. No, I wasn’t good enough for you. But I guess you’re ex-wife was.”

Joe furrowed his eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb. It’s not cute.” She pulled her phone from out of her bra and went to her Twitter, going to her bookmarks page and pulling up the tweet from TMZ. She shoved her phone in Joe’s hand.

If Joe didn’t feel like shit before, he definitely felt like shit now. He hadn’t even seen anyone with cameras that day. Before he could say anything, before he could explain and beg for her forgiveness, she snatched the phone out of his hand.

Kalea's eyes were burning with anger and hurt. "Four months. Four months of silence, and then I see this?” She scoffed, shaking her head as she started to back away from him. “Just –, leave me alone.” She whispered, giving him one last longing look before walking away from him.

Joe’s heart ached as he watched her leave, the depth of his mistakes more apparent than ever. He wanted to call out to her, to explain, to make things right, but the weight of his actions left him paralyzed.

Where will you go now? Now that you're done with me Where will you go now? Now that you're done with me Where will you go now? Now that you're done with me Where will you go now? Now that you're done- 'Til further notice 'Til further notice 'Til further notice (we'll keep you posted) 'Til further notice (I'll keep you posted)

WooHoo! Finally

I'm debating on making a part two. But I kinda like how I left it. .. sike, y'all know there's definitely gonna be a part two.

Lemme know what y'all think, this was my first time really sitting down and writing Roman (hope it's not too OOC)

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

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*Im sorry if I missed anybody*

#Youtube #roman reigns #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x fem reader #roman reigns fanfic #wwe x black oc #wwe x black reader #wwe x fem reader #wwe fanfiction #roman reigns angst #wwe angst

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stevielicious · 7 months

Text

𓆩⟡𓆪 His Little Stripper 𓆩⟡𓆪

pairing- Colby Brock x fem!reader

summary- a stripper catches the eyes of a handsome man, has a lotta fun

warnings- a lil angsty, some hardcore smut lol, cute lil ending

word count- 3k or sum? maybe 4k, LMAO

a/n- been a long time since I’ve written, enjoy

o==[]::::::::::::::::>

The whole studio was bouncing, the bass rhythmically played throughout the club. Swimming inside the walls, almost enticing you in. The night was young and had only just begun, it was a start to a long night. Here, I was treated almost like royalty, all the other dancers liked to roll their eyes or make snarky comments because they didn’t like the way I hogged all the attention, I was young and that’s nothing I could help.

You could say I was a good dancer. One of the best.

Brittney. I only had one friend in this place, the rest would only batter their eyelashes to get a hand on your earnings. Not Brittney though. She was a sweet, honest girl that just needed the extra cash and in complete fairness, that’s what we were both here for. We were both the youngest in this place. University costs an arm and a leg, there’s no lie in that. It was a hated industry, but the world is a tough place to make a living.

“Girl! You gotta get out there! it’s thriving with old dudes that have a TON of money!!” She heaved, slumping on a swivel chair next to mine, with a wide-eyed expression painted across her makeup clad features. I glanced at her through the huge mirrors stuck to the smoke stained walls, with a slight smirk finishing up on my cherry red lipgloss, “Oh yeah? Sounds just like every other night.”

“Well, I did see these couple guys around our age, maybe older, they were sooo hot.” Brittney explained, emphasising their good looks, applying makeup to her smudged areas. She seemed skittish, almost like she was eager to get back out there. This time I’d turned to face her, making my blonde hair a bouncy, wavey look. Being expressive with her hands, matter of factly she had said, “I sooo wished they’d came over to me, that brunette guy was soo handsome, so mysterious too. I’ll have to show you when you get your ass out there! I’d give that man a dance for free any day.”

I giggled, never hearing her talk like this made me believe these men were as handsome as she said they were. Maybe I’ll have to see for myself. I began to slip my cherry red heels on, glancing in the mirror, puffing my hair out. I had styled it in to an 80’s blowout type look, just more modernised. “I believe you girl, it’s been a while since we’ve had a looker come here.”

“Man, you look like a whole full course meal looking like that, Y/N. You have more of a chance than me at getting that handsome devil in a booth. Gosh, you’re so sexy!” Brittney huffed, looking at me with a sad but hopeful expression.

I grabbed her hand, pulling her out of her chair. Cupping her face with my hands, I said with confidence, “God is a woman, and you my friend are a fucking goddess! Now let’s get out there and make some fucking money!” She smiled into my hands as I then spun her around, seeing the sparkles on her little outfit shine.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

I stood behind Brittney as she peeped from behind the big, draping, scarlet red curtain that lead out to the runway. A shiny pole awaiting us. Britt had kept an eye on the stage as I was trying to skim the crowd for the one who looks like they had the most cash with them. “Oh! Gabriella’s almost finished her dance, god blue is NOT her colour!”

“Brittney! You have to watch your mouth sometimes, you’ll get in trouble if someone hears you!” I wispered harshly, playfully jabbing her arm. She moved over a little so I could get a better look of the crowd. Taking me by surprise, a pair of striking blue eyes caught my own as I swiftly shut the curtain, almost knocking Britt over, “Holy shit.”

“What? What!” The brunette nudged me out the way as I took a step back, body running cold. I heard her muttering as she closed the curtain as quick as she re-opened it, turning to me. “Oh my God, that’s him!”

“Shut up! I’ve never seen him before, I can’t dance infront of him, he’s too pretty to be here! What’s a guy like him doing here?! God!” I gulped, walking back and forth on myself, finding my nerves getting the better of me of me. God, his dark brown hair and that shiny earring glistening in his ear, the black button up, the shine on his rings and tattooed arms, man. I’m used to dancing for 40+ year old guys, not actual good looking guys my age!

“Are you being serious right now, Y/N? You’re the hottest one here, if Gab’s can flaunt it then you definitely can too!” She exclaimed assertively, stopping me in my tracks, hands on either side of my arms. Pointing her finger in my face.

“Hey sluts, they’re waiting.” A scratchy, unbothered voice had sounded as the clacking of heels sounded down the set of stairs held by the stage. We both rolled our eyes as she swang her hips side to side, sauntering away from us.

“Ugh, whatta bitch.” We muttered in unison, breathing out a laugh. Britt gave me a subtle peck on the cheek, something she always did to calm my nerves before my journey to the pole, “Knock ‘em dead, Y/N”

As she turned my track on, I took a deep breath, pushing my boobs up a little, feeling the deep red lace against my body. Promiscuous sounded, by Nelly & Timbaland. As much as it is a corny song, the boys loved it.

Whipping my hair over my shoulder, I winked at my bestie, and started my walk. The giant curtains opened as I started to strut. The dim lights only lighting up solely on the pole. My confidence returning as my hips swirled to the beat, winking at thirsty men in the crowd. I raised my arms leaning my head back touching my chest.

I made my way over to the center, strutting around the shiny metal pole, caressing it gently. Placing my heels accordingly on the polished platform, stepping on dollar bills everywhere I walked. “Promiscuous girl, you’re teasin’ me. You know what I want and I got what you need.”

I raised my leg on the pole letting my body drape around as my arm held my balance along the pole. As I smoothly came to the bottom of the glistening metal, I spread my legs one infront and one behind, bouncing slightly. Rolling onto my next move, the same pair of blue eyes caught my attention, I couldn’t help but stare for a second, which felt like minutes, as I got behind the pole, he winked at me.

Which took me by surprise as I blushed. I gulped and returned the wink. I blew a kiss at this man, as I slut dropped down the metal shaft, licking up it. Keeping eye contact, his mouth agape. When I grew confidence, I also grew dirty. Giving what these men came to see. “Have all my money!”

One man shouted, another had exclaimed, “I want you to ride my face, please! Be my dirty little girl!” I smiled politely at these men, knowing full well they probably have wives at home, most of them having a ring on their marriage finger. Bastards.

As I danced around the pole, I let my hips do the work, shaking them around in a sexy way. Left to right, innocently dancing. Mouthing the lyrics, shutting my eyes ever so slightly. With my back to the pole now, I had slid down it, mouthing the lyrics, “I’m all alone and it’s you that I want!”

Motioning this handsome blue eyed boy to me with my fingers, in a ‘come here’ type of way. Hoping to entice him, or just playfully tease him. He was leaning against the bar, eyes glued to me. I’ve felt his eyes on me the whole dance. He had this dark smirk on him, looking me up and down with these hungry eyes. Turning his full body towards me now. He mouthed, “Oh yeah?”

In return, I sent an innocent wink his way, with a smile this time. Getting on my feet and swinging around the pole one last time before subtly dropping down, against the cold metal, arching my back as I pushed my hips towards the pole, not letting go. The lights going dark once again as my time came to an end.

I blew the crowd a kiss as I took one last glance toward the bar, the man that had captivated my full attention could not be seen. My heart sank a little as I turned on my heel, forming a strut down the walk as the curtains closed behind me, the money being collected as I had left the stage that I had now earned.

“Eeek! Y/N! You did so good! How am I supposed to follow that performance up?!” Brittney squealed, high fiving me.

“You’ll do even better than me, I’m sure of it!” Giving her praise, she was the one thing that got me through this place, she deserved more confidence. “ I’m gonna take a walk on the floor, gonna get a drink! Go get ‘em tiger!”

As much as I was there for my girl, I desperately wanted to see if this man had stuck around.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Venturing onto the men-riddled floor, I tried to keep my composure. This was when my nerves got the better of me, you’re looked at as a piece of meat when you’re of the floor. Up on the stage, you feel as though everyone’s below you, literally. You’re on top, nobody can touch you up there.

I found myself at the bar, just asking for a lemonade to pass the time, a kind, older woman had served me. She was one of the nicer workers that resided here, “Would you like a cherry in there too, Y/N?”

“You know me.” I softly said, giving her a thankful smile. Some saw me as the baby here and some saw me as the queen. It was a weird place to be, I just appreciated the kind ones. She gave me a wink and went on her way to make me a the simple concoction.

“Y/N. What a name. Pretty, too.” A deep, husky voice sounded from next to me, as I felt his eyes burn into the side of my head. I turned, slowly looking up at him, his tall, dark frame leaning down on me. I gulped. Those familiar blue eyes keeping ahold of my attention, his warm smile sounding, “Hey, I’m Colby.” He took my hand and kissed it gently.

“Y/N. Hey.” I shyly ushered out in one whole breathe, as I glanced down, my hair falling infront of my face. He was gorgeous, a true beauty. I must be lucky for someone like him to be able to approach me.

“Yeah, I know” He chuckled. I blushed as he heard the lady behind the bar already address that. Don’t screw up now girl! “Is that your real name? I know ladies like to have a disguise around here.”

He observantly mentioned, smirking too. I was at a loss for words, Colby was so captivating, I was lost in his celestial, lapis eyes. His chestnut hair cascading infront of his eyes ever so slightly. “It is, does that disappoint you?”

I decided to be honest, maybe he’d find that attractive in its self. After all, he was honest with me. “What? God no, I think you’re stunning, and your names just the cherry on top!”

Colby ironically exclaimed, as my drink was placed infront of me. The lady looked at both me and him and smiled, raising her eyebrows at me. He glanced at my drink, taking the cherry. Swivelling it in his grip, he glanced at me. I looked up at him with my doe eyes, as he popped it in my mouth, plucking the stem from the cherry itself. “Good girl.”

My heart started to race as he reached his hand out, ushering me closer. As I went to take his hand, a loud roguish man approached me, grabbing me by waist, immediately yelling in my face, “Are you gonna dance for me or what? Huh?”

The alcohol definitely playing its part, I glanced to security, they hadn’t seen the commotion yet and my heart was jumping out of its chest. He towered over me demanding, impatiently waiting for an answer. “Sir, please don’t speak to me like tha-“

“I can speak to you how the FUCK I want, don’t you dare think for a second that your better than me or anyone’s gonna save your pretty little ass, you do what I tell you-“ a huge thud landed as I was swiftly pushed back, the man in front of me collapsing to the ground. Colby had lunged at the drunken man. Angered, he had hit him square in the jaw, a tooth rolling around on the floor. A splash of blood on already red heel.

My breath hitched in my throat, still no security in sight, the music too loud for anyone to really give a shit. Colby had picked this man up by his shift, as though he weighed of nothing, he hissed in his face, “Beat it.”

The man was dropped to his feet and quickly scurried away, as if he saw death itself. I watched as he was out of site, a warm touch against my chin snapped me out of the trance I was in. Startled. “Are you okay, beautiful?”

Gazing into his eyes, hard to look away, I stuttered out, “I-uh, yeah. Thank you.” I placed my hand on his chest trying to gain my breath back, it all happened so fast, a boldness took over me, the sheer sign of strength made so effortlessly was almost overwhelming, “Wanna get out of here?”

I felt his heartbeat pick up every so slightly as he huskily said, “Lead the way, Y/N.”

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Of all places, I lead him to one of the private booths, the expensive, champagne riddled rooms. I shut the curtains to the room, letting staff know that it was occupied. The curved couch was a sparkly red, that had a pole in the middle as well as a love seat. The circular table had three bottles of champagne in a bucket of ice, recently been placed there. Lights had become dim since I’d closed the curtains and there were little sources of light emerging from under both seats. Colby had poured a drink for me and himself, keeping them set down on the table, he approached me with a smirk on his face, “What brings us here then beautiful?”

“I wanted to thank you back there, you were so brave.” Placing my hand on his chest once again, ever so slightly pushing him backwards, towards the curved seat, trailing my hand downwards. Batting my eyelashes at him with my big doe like eyes, I pouted, “So strong.”

His legs hit the textured couch, falling back on, eyes never straying from mine once. I began to crawl on top of him, in a straddle position, feeling himself twitch underneath me, “I-That was nothing back there, a beautiful girl like you shouldn’t have to take that shit.”

He insisted while taking in my body, my looks. Colbys hands began to travel up and down my lacy, deep red piece, taking it all in, breathing a little heavier than before. Muttering, he shifted a little from under me, looking back up at my eyes, “Fuck.”

Smirking slightly, I leant forward, giving him an eyeful of my cleavage, whispering, “I’ll make you feel good, Colby.” His breath began to hitch as I began to kiss up his jaw, his eyes darkened as he lifted my face, gazing into my eyes. His plump lips were begging to meet mine, he took a quick glance at my lips and mumbled hastily, “You’re making me crazy, beautiful.”

And with that he crashed his whiskey stained lips into my cherry tasted ones. Hunger was taking over and I grew to want him so badly. His great hands found their way to my back, travelling down and cupping me, grabbing me ever so slightly but enough for me to moan into his mouth. He seemed to like that. Swiftly, he took my laced bra off with one quick motion, making me gasp.

My hands got the better of me and I started unbuttoning his shirt, almost frustrated that it wasn’t coming undone quick enough. He pulled away, picking me up, his hands under me, straddling his waist now, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

The blue eyed boy had laid us down, I was now laying on the love seat, he towered over me, looking me up and down, ready to feast. Colby stood there, with his shirt unbuttoned, his abs glistening from the sweat we had just created. He looked godly in this moment. He quickly took off his jeans, his member almost throbbing to be let out. I gulped as he looked bigger than anything I’d ever seen.

He lowered himself down, and kissed me passionately, still hungry for more. My hands roamed freely, helping him take off his shirt completely. With this motion I quickly flipped us, wanting to be on top of him. I begged, “Let me please you, Colby.”

Impressed at my strength, Colby had stifled a moan as I started to leave hungry kisses down his chest, until I got to his boxer line. I looked up at him through my lashes, as he nodded with approval, removing the clothing. His thick member throbbing. I gulped, taking in his size, he was fucking huge.

“Fuck.” I muttered as I teased him, licking up his shaft, keeping eye contact with him as he propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look. I wrapped my hand around his member, kissing the tip.

I began to take him in my mouth, bobbing my head up and down and sucking slightly, wanting him to feel euphoric. His sweet moans filled my ears, making me work harder for him. Wanting to make him feel better than ever. “You’re such a good girl, Y/N.”

Seeing his eyes roll back as his shaft touched the back of my throat was enough to make me moan, knowing I was doing a good job. I was a good girl. His good girl. Colby’s hand traveled to the back of my head, grabbing my hair slightly bobbing my head. It felt so good. “You like that baby girl?”

I nodded quickly, not wanting to disappoint, all of a sudden feeling really submissive. As I carried on sucking it for a little longer, Colby pulled my hair back and away from him gently making me look up at him, he muttered, “C’mere baby.”

I did as he asked, waiting for what was to come. Colby got on top of me, his chain dangling infront of my face, his arms looking as muscular as ever as he towered over me, I felt completely under his spell and I was more than ready for what he was about to do to me.

He caressed my breasts, with both hands as I started to breath heavier, trying to keep it together. His eyes flickering towards mine and my bare chest, he muttered sweet nothings as he latched onto them, kissing them. Sucking them. I couldn’t help but moan at the way his tongue moved against my body, “Colby!”

“Shh, baby. You sound so fucking good, but we can’t get in trouble now, can we?” He muttered against my breasts, knowing full well we’d get in big trouble as clients weren’t supposed to be touchy let alone all over each other. He was far from being a client, but I would definitely get kicked out immediately for this behaviour. I groaned out of annoyance, frustrated with pleasure. He began to bite them ever so gently, putting my hand over my mouth to shuffle my moans. Colby had made him way down to my panties, asking for approval, granting him access. He swiftly took them off with ease, “Fuck you’re so perfect.”

“Are you ready baby?” He huskily marvelled, admiring the mess he had made me into, touching himself. His hair stuck to his forehead a little, his muscles glistening all over, his tattoos made his aura dark and mysterious but he seemed like a complete utter dream. In response, all I could manage was a swift nod, with impatient, hungry eyes.

He lined his huge member up with my already wet folds, awaiting the small pain that came with it. He came down closer to me, kissing me roughly and pushing himself into me at the same time, causing me to melt into his mouth, both moaning loudly. My hands traveled up to his hair, getting tangled in his locks. His motions were euphoric and heavenly, making my back arch with every move. Colby moaned roughly into my neck, kissing it and nipping at the skin with his teeth, leaving slight bruises as he trailed.

“Fuck, you feel so good Y/N.” My nails scraped along down his back, marking him as equally as he did me. He couldn’t keep back his moans as they sounded through my body. Unwinding. As is pace quickened, my orgasm started to grow nearer. I couldn’t hold it any longer, he was making me feel pleasure like I’ve never felt it before, “Colby, I’m so close!”

“Fuck baby, don’t come until I tell you too. I know you’re a good girl. My good, good girl.” He quickened his pace and became a little rougher with his thrusts, making me into a moaning mess. He couldn’t bring himself to tell me to be quiet anymore, he loved the way he was making me feel. He moved so he could put my legs over his shoulders, making my climax come quicker, “Colby, please!”

“Oh baby, I’m gonna come too.” He muffled tensely, his thrusts getting sloppier, I looked at him with pleading eyes, muttering and begging, Colby looked at me with pleading eyes, “Come for me beautiful.”

With that, I had unleashed my orgasm, coming undone at his command, moaning his name as I rode out my high. I started toying with my breasts to get him closer to his climax, wanting nothing more but the warm fill, “Colby, please come. Please!”

Not even a moment later he came undone too, filling me up with his come. We were both messes, moaning into each other as he collapsed on top of me, pecking my neck as he collected himself. He rolled over to the next of me, putting his arm underneath his head and one out for me to lay on. We were both panting like sick dogs. I propped myself up on my elbow, my head resting against my palm.

“You know, I’ve never seen you in here before.” I muttered, playing with a strand of my hair. I pondered it, because he was a beautiful man, a young man. A man that didn’t suit these kind of places.

“I thought you’d ask, it’s a good friend of mines birthday and we all thought it would be a good surprise to bring him here.” Colby chuckled, looking into my eyes. He reached out for my hand and placed it on his chest, his heart still erratic. “You are beautiful though, Y/N. I meant what I said.”

“Thank you. You’re not too bad yourself.” I giggled, him faking a hurt expression, giving me a pearly white smile, something that made me melt on the spot. His crinkles next to his eyes matching perfectly with his happy looks.

“A pretty girl like you, how’d you end up here?” He looked at me sincerely, wanting to know me a little better. I didn’t think he’d ask, making me feel slightly embarrassed that I have money issues.

“Oh it’s nothing, just- university won’t pay itself, you see.” I said with honesty. glancing down at my hands down, playing with them.

“University? That’s incredible, I can’t imagine how expensive that must be, I guess I can understand.” I looked up at him, he seemed genuine and I melted into his gaze, I gave him a small smile. Appreciating his kind words. Mouthing a ‘thank you’.

“You know,” propping himself up to really look at me this time, grabbing the two glasses of champagne on the table. Handing one to me, “I would really like to take you out, get you away from here eventually.”

“I would really love that.” I blushed, him smirking in return.

“It wouldn’t be classed as inappropriate to maybe cheers to this? A new beginning, potentially?” Him raising a glass.

I giggled, feeling a sense of happiness and fulfilment. Cuddled up with a man you feel like you’ve known forever, chatting, getting to know each other and just sealed a date with, raising a toast to a new beginning. “Cheers.”

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a/n- omg I had no plan for this just a thought, one thing led to another and BOOM. hope you enjoyed lol I never know how to wrap up endings

stay sweet x

#colby brock #colby smut #sam and colby #xplr #colby brock smut

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elliesflower · 2 years

Text

i hate u [2]

pt 1 here

word count; 4.2k (don't ask)

cw; angst, top!abby, bottom!r, fingering (r!receiving), dirty talk, crying

an; hiiii, i need this woman in my bed expeditiously. originally i was gonna make abby a switch in this but then it got too long lmao anyways, enjoy! (and find it on ao3 here)

18+ only, mdni!!!!

kissing abby was nothing like you had imagined—not that you’d imagined kissing her, ever, but it was quite possibly the only feeling that has ever mattered. the unmistakable sound of your lips smacking together was utterly indecent in the quiet of your bedroom, much louder than the ever-present hum of the stadium’s generators.

but she was eager, too eager. you both were, all the years spent avoiding each other, and you could have had this? her hand was sliding down, lightly pulling at the soft hairs at the back of your neck. you gasped, the sensation lighting you on fire, panting into her mouth, you couldn’t help it, you were whining, “abby,” and it was barely a whisper but she heard you—peppering kisses to your top lip, the corner of your mouth, your cheek, down to your jaw, she was nodding in agreement.

“m’ sorry,” she mumbled into your neck, and you shivered, your body instinctively pressing into hers. her hand came around to rest at your lower back and she pressed you closer still, continuing her exploration of your skin.

“you said that already,” you breathed, leaning your head back and closing your eyes, because there was no way this was happening, right? you’d wake up tomorrow and be alone in your bed, and this will be nothing more than a passing thought, an insane dream to add to the tally. but it was like abby could read your mind, she was desperate to make you feel just how real this really was, snaking her hand further around your middle so that she was nearly lifting you off the ground.

your hands flew out to find purchase on her shoulders, nails making crescent indents in her freckled skin. “still sorry,” she said again, punctuating it with a wet kiss to your cheek, before pressing her forehead into yours. she felt sticky with perspiration, her breath was jagged and slow as she squeezed her eyes closed. god, it was impossible to tell what she was thinking as you watched her, your heavy breathing matching hers while you stood there in the middle of your room. in the middle of abby. in the middle of every fucked up thing the two of you have ever said to each other and oh, was it supposed to be this hard?

“do you forgive me?” she asked suddenly, and her eyes opened. you stared at her, feeling her breath fan across your face, your lips tingling almost as much as your brain.

do you forgive her?

you do, you think—but how could you let it come out like this? pressed against her, the weight of her hands at your back making you squirm, your heart and your head and your stomach were all telling you a different lie and you didn’t know who to believe. so you said nothing instead, ignoring the stinging behind your eyes and feverishly pressing your lips against hers once again.

she tasted sort of like mint, a little bit like guilt, but also like your favorite flavor. she relinquished her hold on your back, moving her hands to rest at your hips, thumbs tracing circles on the delicate skin there—it made you shiver, made you gasp once more into her mouth, and she used your surprise to guide you backwards, walking you to what you could only assume was your bed, messy and unmade from the morning.

“do you forgive me?” she was asking again, between kisses, between gently helping you lower onto the bed, between a rock and a hard place. you felt like crying, you felt like saying yes, you felt like letting her take you apart, to hell and back, and it sure felt like you’d never needed anything more than you needed her in this exact moment.

you nodded as abby pulled away, you couldn’t say it out loud, and her lips were glistening and swollen, parted slightly as she sat down on the bed next to you. her braid was messy, baby hairs sticking to her forehead as she leaned toward you. you crossed your legs on the bed, facing her, and swallowed hard, your body fueled with anticipation, with lust, with the filthy thoughts that you couldn’t shake from your mind—not when she was looking at you like…that.

“do you, though?” she asked, placing a hand on your cheek, thumb swiping away a tear you hadn’t even noticed. you nodded fervently, hand reaching up to grab her forearm, holding it in place. “i need to hear you say it.”

you had to close your eyes again, you couldn’t dare to look her in the eye, god, this was embarrassing—she forgave you. just like that. why is it so hard for you? she moved her hand so that it was pinching your chin lightly, tilting your head up so that you’d have to look at her.

not fair.

you blinked up at her through your wet lashes, and her thumb reached up to gently pull at your bottom lip, instantly sending heat pooling in your core. you tried not to show it on your face, but abby was searching, fighting to get an answer out of you.

“i won’t do this with you if you don’t talk to me,” her tone was gentle, but you still felt restless. you were amped up, from the fighting, the tears, the anger, the desire. somehow the feelings were identical—love and hate. the only difference was the circumstance.

“do what with me?” there went your mouth again, moving before you could think. abby almost smiled, the corner of her mouth twitching ever-so-slightly. her eyes flickered down to your mouth, and then back, and her thumb pressed slightly harder into your lip, prying it open.

“don’t play dumb,” she said, and now, she did smile—but it didn’t seem so nice this time.

“i want this,” you couldn’t help it, you were reaching for her again, grabbing her hand and pulling it into your lap. you intertwined your fingers, looking down at your joined hands, and it didn’t feel real. “i want you.” but you couldn’t look at her still, playing with her hand in yours, heartbeat practically ringing in your ears.

“yeah?” abby scooted closer to you, slipping her hand out of your grasp, and you looked at her again, eyes dark and full of lust. she leaned down to slip off her own boots, and you took a deep breath, nodding when she looked back up at you. you did want this. you wanted her, in any way she would have you, in any way you could possibly get.

“i forgive you,” you decided, and this time, it was with certainty. your voice unwavering, your eyes clear, your heart full, and that set something in abby on fire. for a split second, her nostrils flared, and then she was on you in an instant, taking you by surprise when she clamored onto the bed, pressing your shoulders back so that you landed on the mattress with a soft grunt. she held herself up with one arm, staring down at you, and you suddenly felt vulnerable all over again, squirming under the scrutiny of her piercing gaze. her face was mere inches away from your own, and you stopped to admire her for a moment, in a way you could never before. sure, you’d looked at her before, but you’ve never really looked at her—not like this.

her pupils were dilated, yet her face held an unusual gentleness. freckles littered her skin like constellations, and you wanted to map them all, wanted to feel her, all of her, so you started to, reaching up and pressing a hand to her face, just like she’d done to you. all her walls were gone, unrestrained, and there was no mistaking her heavy lids and flushed skin for anything other than salacity. the thought alone of what was to come had you pressing your thighs together, once again wondering how she managed to do so much to you without ever saying a single word.

“you sure about that?” the blonde asked suddenly, her breath ghosting over your face as she spoke. you almost rolled your eyes out of habit, but settled for a scoff instead. of course she knew you were sure—she just couldn’t help herself, could she?

“if you expect me to grovel, you’re kindly mistaken,” you quipped, dropping your hand.

“last i checked, i kinda feel like i have the upper hand, here,” abby smirked, one of her knees slotting between your legs, and you actually gasped, that motherfucker. the pressure against your core was delicious, albeit there were a few too many layers of clothing in the way. you tried not to let the pleasure show on your face, determined that she couldn’t break you—not now, not after all the time you’ve had to spend proving yourself to her.

“fuck you, abby,” you said, but this time, you didn’t mean it. and she knew that, smirking down at you as she shifted her leg up higher, silencing what would have been an absolutely embarrassing moan with a kiss.

it was almost like she couldn’t control herself. she was greedy now, all tongue and teeth, her mouth incessant and wet, saliva connecting your mouths each time she pulled away briefly to allow you to breathe—not that you needed any breath, really you thought you’d be fine if you never breathed on your own again. you wanted her breath, you wanted her—couldn’t help the grinding of your clothed pussy over the expanse of her muscular thigh, couldn’t help the whisper of jesus, fuck- that spilled from your lips when she began to trail her tongue down your neck, to your chest, all the way down until she was lifting your shirt up, helping you wrangle it off, and pressing her mouth onto the bare skin just above your navel.

you looked down at her just as she darted her tongue out to lap gently at your stomach, and you swore you could have cried right then and there, reaching your hand out to grip her hair as you arched into her touch, a shiver shooting down your spine at the ticklish sensation.

“god, do you ever take out this stupid braid?” you hissed as your fingers got caught in one of the plats, and she had the nerve to laugh, pressing another kiss to your middle before sitting up on her knees, leaving you needy and exposed below her, your nipples hardening against the cool air in the room.

“aw, someone been fantasizing about me with my hair down?” she taunted, but she got the hint, because she took out her hair-tie regardless, sliding it down to her wrist.

“fuck off,” you retorted, though your body flooded hot at the mockery, partially because yes, she was right, you sometimes did wonder about what she looked like with her hair down—not sure if you’d call that, fantasizing, though—and mostly because abby had always taunted you, fucked around with you, frustrated you to the point of tears, but never in a sexual way. and the thought both terrified and excited you as you envisioned what was to come.

it didn’t really matter right now though, you thought as you sat up on your elbows, because she was undoing her braid, the wavy, golden locks cascading down her shoulders once freed, and you choked back yet another moan at the sight.

“abby…” you breathed, sitting up farther so that you could touch it. the moment had gone soft, like her hair, it was so soft, and smelled like coconut, fuck how have you never seen her with her hair down, after all these years? she was smiling, but you could see the faint blush that was creeping up her neck under your gaze.

“is my hair down a turn-on for you?”

yes. you swallowed.

“no.”

she laughed, and you had to fight your own grin, twisting a strand of her hair around your finger. “shut up,” you grumbled, sitting up on your knees to match her, pressing your hands against her chest softly, playing with the neckline of her shirt. you felt her muscles tense under your touch as she gazed down at you, and you were suddenly aware of just how much…larger she was than you. the thought made you shiver, and you were once again aware of the wetness between your legs.

“can i take this off?” you asked, voice coming out quiet and shy. abby nodded, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. you took a breath, reaching down to help her pull it off, and you could have fainted at the sight. you knew she was built, but fuck. you couldn’t help but reach out and touch her skin, trailing your fingers from the band of her thin white bra down to her navel.

“bet you’ve been waiting for this, huh?” she asked, abs flexing slightly under the touch of your hand, and no matter how badly you wanted to make some sarcastic comment back, you felt like a person possessed, nodding with enthusiasm, impure thoughts flooding your brain—but another “shut up,” was all you could manage, breathless and benevolent, wanting to feel more of her.

“should have known,” she spoke lowly now, her tone just this side of nice, “all that teasing, all those mean comments,” she said, and your stomach twisted in anticipation as her eyes narrowed. god, she was looking at you like you were a piece of meat, and no, that shouldn’t have been turning you on even more, but oh, she was guiding you back down to the mattress before fumbling with the button of your jeans.

“it was just frustration,” abby said, her tone suddenly casual for the extremely sensual way she was undoing your pants.

“the fuck are you talking about, anderson?” you griped, reaching down to help her pull your pants all the way off, and you became acutely aware of how your excitement had seeped through your panties, the sudden rush of air against them making you shiver.

“i’m saying, i get it now,” she continued, using her big hands to spread your thighs apart, rubbing circles into your skin with her thumbs, observing you. “you were just frustrated over what you couldn’t have.”

“are you fucking kidding m-”

but there was no time to retort, no time to do much of anything before she was pressing a thumb to your thinly veiled clit, causing you to cry out in shock. you couldn’t look at her, you had to throw your head back onto the pillow and cover your eyes in shame, legs closing around her arm instinctively.

“ah ah,” she reprimanded, using a hand to spread your legs back apart, and fuck, she was strong. not that it would have taken much convincing, anyways. “let me see.” her thumb pressed against your sensitive core, making a dull ache in your stomach, making you gasp and moan under her touch.

“yeah that’s it,” she rasped, and you swear in that moment you were seeing stars, fucking shameful, isn’t it? that she had barely even started to touch you and you were practically gone already. so much for not breaking. “i know this is what you’ve been wanting. what you’ve been needing…”

“abby, please,” please what, you weren’t sure. please stop talking, please keep talking, please don’t fucking stop, and you’d blame it on the desire, the ache to be touched, anything to admit you weren’t coming undone this quickly under her teasing rhythm.

“such good manners, where have those been?” she was fucking mocking you now, abruptly stopping her ministrations in favor of grabbing the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down with such ease you were worried for a moment they might rip.

“fuck you,” you managed, and it just didn’t have that same weight to it anymore—not when abby had you like this, naked and breathless and sweaty below her. she smiled at you, and it was wicked, eyes dark and hair wild around her face.

“why don’t you show me some more of those good manners,” she said, eyes transfixed on the wetness between your legs, pushing your thighs apart lightly. “open up.”

somehow, your legs were spreading almost like she’d cast some sort of spell on you, her words going straight to your head and taking over your body, doing anything to make her get closer, to make her touch you, to fuck you.

“tell me you want this,” her voice was quiet and serious, the sound of it scrambling your brain--her fingers, dancing across your skin, from your hips, to your thighs, squeezing gently at the soft flesh as she locked eyes with you.

“you gonna make me beg?” you questioned, inhaling sharply at her touch.

“never said that,” she shrugged, abruptly moving her hand and running her index finger down your slit, and it was nearly disgraceful how easily her finger glided, coated with your slick—you gasped at the sensation, gripping the bedsheets in your fists. “just wanna hear you say it.”

“you’re insufferable,” you groaned, closing your eyes as she began stroking her finger agonizingly slowly between your folds, and god you could fucking hear how wet you were. it would have been embarrassing, and perhaps, it was a little bit--but she didn’t need to know that thought was turning you on even more.

“guess i don’t really need to hear it,” abby continued. “i can just tell by how fucking wet you are.” it was like she was in your brain, somehow, your hips were bucking into her touch and shying away at the same time. you looked down your body at her and watched the way she looked at you, with such hunger and intensity, and it took everything in you to hold back, to force yourself to stay away from the edge—no way you’d let her have that satisfaction.

“still’d be nice,” she pressed on, dipping her finger just slightly into your pussy, drawing a moan from your throat, which you quickly muffled with the back of your hand.

“abby,” you whispered against your hand, trying to move your hips just so that her finger would slide in--it probably would, you were so fucking eager, and she knew it too, the way she watched your face twist in pleasure, your mouth falling open as she teased your entrance. you chanced a look down at her, and her lips were painted with that smug fucking smirk.

“you fucking asshole,” you whined when you realized she was serious. “abby, i swear to god-” you were quickly cut off, practically choking on your words as she slid a thick finger inside, curling it just right so that she could pull out of your dripping cunt with an obscene squelching noise.

“what happened to your manners?” she questioned, withdrawing her fingers completely, cocking her head to the side. “c’mon, lemme hear it,” and you were writhing on the bed, heart racing, your breathing labored, stomach twisting in knots, sweat making the bed sheets stick to your backside.

“abby,” you spoke her name, for maybe the hundredth time that night, but you couldn’t help it. fell off your lips like a prayer, tears welling in your eyes as you gazed up at her strong frame, towering over you in the bed. you were at her mercy, whether you liked it or not--but you really did like it, maybe even loved it, your thighs sticky with your juices as you pressed your knees together, desperate for any kind of pressure after she pulled away.

“it’s just three little words,” abby pressed, smoothing her hands up the expanse of your thighs before dipping her thumb back in between the heat of your legs, the pressure against your sensitive bud making you gasp and open up to allow her better access. “i wanna make you feel good. don’t you want that?” it was accentuated with a languid stroke of her thumb, heavy and demanding, and there was no getting out of this--she had a direct line to your brain, flipping a switch with her touch and making you desperate, making your back arch as you tried to hold on to reality, but it was no use. you wanted her, so badly, too badly, you were breaking and fucking- christ abby, your fingers, you were babbling, practically incoherent, but you wanted her to fuck me, please, i-i want it, please,

“that’s it, that’s what i thought,” two fingers were slipping inside you with such ease that you felt mortified for a moment, before you were seeing stars, groans and grunts and unintelligible words being fucked out of you. abby’s fingers moved inside you expertly, like she knew you already, and did she just fucking moan? “fucking filthy, god-” she was leaning over you now, hair falling around her face so that it just tickled your belly as she fucked you, taking you apart. her eyes were ablaze, cheeks red as she panted above you, getting off to just the feeling, you couldn’t look at her, your stomach was tightening and oh no, no, no, she’d barely started--your hole was tightening around her fingers, making the drag of her fingers just that much better, or worse, or something else all together.

“god, you’re fucking tight,” abby groaned as she sped up her fingers, “fucking made for my fingers, taking them so good,” the palm of her hand tapping against your swollen clit with each stroke. you were gone, too gone, but not gone enough to know you were fight fucking there,

“abby, don’t stop, don’tyoufuckingdarestop,” it was pathetic, really--the tears streaming down your face, the way your hand flew out to grip her wrist, pinning her in place as you felt the world disappearing from your mind, m’gonna- fucking cum, your mouth falling open as you locked eyes with her, watching her arm flex as she brought you to your peak and oh--

the world went white for a moment, but you could feel it at the same time, could feel the way your pussy absolutely drenched abby’s hand, could feel the way she stroked you through it, murmuring praises as she pressed against that sensitive spot, causing your hips to stutter as you came down.

abby pulled her fingers out of you slowly, and you whimpered, suddenly overcome with a strong feeling of emptiness--both physically and mentally. your breathing was shaky and prominent, brain foggy and body spent. you felt the bed shifting and looked down to see abby with a soft smile on her face, wiping your wetness off onto her pant leg. you quickly averted your eyes, closing them as you pressed your fingertips to your temples, trying to force back whatever emotion was bubbling up at literally the most inconvenient time.

“hey, what’s going on?” abby’s voice was riddled with concern, and you felt her slide up the bed next to you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off her body, her breathing matching yours. you shook your head bashfully, refusing to look at her. there were ten million thoughts running through your mind, but the main one being:

i just let abigail anderson fuck me.

“m’sorry,” you were apologizing, though you didn’t even know what for, for crying? for ruining the moment?

“sorry for what?” she was pressing, a hand coming to tug at your wrist. “hey, look at me, please,” there was an edge to her voice, almost desperate. you drew a deep breath, wiping away your tears and turning your head toward her. her eyes were full of worry, brow creased slightly as she watched your face. you looked at her for a moment longer before you couldn’t anymore, diving into her neck, pressing your body against hers with fervor. her skin was hot and sticky with perspiration, her heart beating wildly against your face as you pressed it against her, snaking an arm around her middle.

“this changes everything,” you whispered, almost scared to admit it to yourself. she rubbed a warm hand up and down the bare skin of your back soothingly, but you weren’t expecting the laugh that rumbled from her chest.

“well, i would sure hope so.”

you pulled back slightly, glaring at her as best as you could with eyes full of tears and your bottom lip quivering.

“listen,” she smiled softly at you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “of course this changes everything. but doesn’t it change it for the better?” she asked. “unless you’re trying to tell me i’m a terrible lay,” and you had to laugh, pleasantly subdued, for the moment.

“it is for the better,” you mumbled, trying to make your way back into her neck, but she kept you pinned where she would see your face.

“then, what’s the problem?”

“change is hard,” you whispered, the tears stinging in your eyes again. this time, she let you back into her warmth, cradling an arm around your head as she stroked your hair gently. the room was on fire, abby’s scent overwhelming you as you felt her breath evening out.

“i’ll make it easier.”

“how?” you asked, slightly muffled into her skin.

“i just…will.”

and somehow, it sounded like a promise.

#abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #abby anderson x you #abby x you #abby tlou #the last of us pt 2

895 notes · View notes

personasintro · 2 years

Text

One Time Thing | 01

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; what are you going to do when your best friend asks you to have sex with her boyfriend?

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jimin x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: best friend's boyfriend au, angst, fluff, smut

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, oral sex (f.), protected sex, breast play

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7k+

𝐚/𝐧: I've decided to rewrite and repost this entire series. It's one of my first series on this blog, have been put on-hold for the longest time ever. It still is... not gonna lie, rewriting this story brought me mixed feelings about this. I'm not sure if it's worth posting and writing – so please if you like this story let me know! The future of this story depends on you (literally) because I've been thinking about deleting it. I'm just not sure if ppl will like it, so if you do please let me know. Don't ask me how I came up with this story idea lmao I don't even know but I always come out with the weirdest ideas ever.

𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ (links to be added)

“What?!”

The scream rips out of your throat, loud enough to make your best friend cringe at the loudness of your tone. But you don't care. You don't seem to focus enough to care. No other words leaving your mouth while you stare completely shocked at her. You just can't seem to believe what she just said. Your rapidly beating heart says it all.

No, you must've heard her wrong. She definitely didn't say it and you misunderstood her. That's right. But then she speaks again, repeating her once said words that make you stop breathing.

“I want you to sleep with my boyfriend.” she says like it's nothing. She makes it sound as if she’s asking you to water her plants or some other dumb request.

“What the fuck?!” Horrified by her words, you scream again. “Oh my god. I know what’s happening.” you say with a hand over your chest, where you can feel every beat your heart makes.

“You know?” she asks, genuinely surprised with her eyebrows raised.

You nod. “You’re pranking me, aren’t you? It’s because I gave you vodka instead of water you asked for that one time. You’re pranking me back.” you laugh as you shake your head.

She looks at you dumbfounded looking at your crazy state. You're laughing like a maniac, wiping your non-existed tears as she only stares.

“Woah, you almost got me!”

“I’m not pranking you, Y/N. I’m serious.” she says with an absolutely serious face expression.

Your smile drops as you check her face. There's a beat of silence. You've never been more confused than you're now. Nevertheless, you still wait for her abrupt laugh, telling I got you or anything that could prove her prank worked. But she doesn’t. In fact, she doesn't do anything as her features twist into a slight worry. She isn’t the type to prank anyone anyway. Staring right back at her, you find nothing but seriousness and that's when you know.

She’s telling the truth. This is no prank.

“W-wait... are you serious?”

“Hundred percent yes. Let me explain this to you. I know it sounds crazy.”

“You think? This is the craziest shit you’ve ever said and you said a ton of it.” you deadpan, ignoring her silent laugh.

“I know this sounds really crazy and you’re probably thinking what the fuck did I just tell you...” she trails off but then suddenly laughs once she has a perfect view of your wide eyes and open mouth. What the hell is she on? Has she been doing drugs?

“I-I don’t get it.”

“Well, the thing is.. me and Jimin haven’t been really sexually active.” she starts explaining, your head shaking in a shock.

“I still don’t get it.” you interrupt her, causing her to roll her eyes while silently telling you to shut up with her expression.

“If you would just shut up and listen to me.”

“Okay I’m really curious how you’ll explain this.” you remark.

“We haven’t had sex for like months. Since I’m on birth control, I don’t know why but I don’t really want to have sex. The thing is I get horny but not to the point I want to act on it. I already tried to consult with my gynecologist but she just told me it’s completely normal for me to feel this way and that it has something to do with hormones or whatever,” she explains, not forgetting to roll her eyes as she sighs before continuing.

“She told me it’ll stop eventually. I already tried different birth controls. Jimin suggested I should stop using it but I don’t want to get knocked up. I feel much safer with birth control. But lately... we’ve been having these arguments about it. I kind of lashed out at him telling him he can fuck whoever he wants and I wouldn’t care. I’d just get so annoyed everytime he wanted to have sex. And I feel so bad because it’s not Jimin’s fault. I should be able to please him but blowjobs don't cut it this time. It’s just not enough.”

You blink, trying to let her words sink in. Once you get yourself together, at least enough to process her words, you lick your lips.

“But sex isn’t everything. You love each other so much and your relationship shouldn’t be based on sex.” you say truthfully while looking at her saddened face.

Now that the shock is fading away, you realize she's absolutely serious and this goes much deeper than you thought. All of this makes her frustrated.

“I know. Jimin is the kindest person I know. He told me that it’s okay and we don’t have to have sex but I know how much sexually frustrated he is. I feel like I’m such a bad girlfriend. After our argument we had this long conversation about it and then I was kind of thinking about you,” she says, her eyes nervously flicking to yours as you blink at her with a terrified look. “ You haven’t gotten laid in a long time always complaining how you’re not interested in having sex with a complete stranger. And I know you mentioned Jimin’s hot in the past so..”

“So what? You want me to have sex with him just because I said he’s hot? I said that about tons of men already.” And she doesn't see you having sex with all of them.

“Yeah but he thinks you’re hot as well.”

“What?”

What did she say? She has shocked you already too much today. You swear you're about to have a heart attack.

“He told me before we got into a relationship.”

That’s right. Mina and Jimin started as friends with benefits. They still slept with other people but after some time they became exclusive. After that they started dating and here they are. In a relationship completely in love.

“The thing is I know that you’re one of the kindest people I know. You always had my back and helped me with everything and I’m so grateful for you! And I know that you’ll not catch any feelings for Jimin.”

“I’m not that sexually frustrated that I need to have sex with your boyfriend. That’s ridiculous.” you say, sounding almost offended. “I barely know him.”

It's true. There are a few occasions where you and him see each other. Most of them happen at Mina's place and he happened to come there while you were there as well. It's not like you and him haven't talked. You do talk – casually but that's it. Nothing more. Plus, you're already busy with school and the only person you get to hang out in your free time is Mina. And Mina only. Well, there's Yoongi too – your other very close friend.

You could probably count on your fingers how many conversations you've had with Jimin. Not many, that's for sure. Most of the stuff you know about him is from Mina anyway. It's not like Jimin shares his personal life with you.

“That’s why it wouldn’t be so weird.” she says and you look at her completely dumbfounded by her words. Is she high? “I know it doesn’t make any sense right now.”

“I’m still shocked this isn't a prank.” you admit while you play with your nails. “Won’t you be jealous knowing me and Jimin are having sex?” The sudden thought crosses your mind. Not that you're seriously considering this stupid plan of hers!

“It’s just a one time thing. And no. I already told you how desperate I am. I need your help but I know how weird of me it is to ask you of this. You don’t have to do it. I’ll completely understand you. But you’re the only person I trust with Jimin.”

“B-but what about him? Isn’t this weird for him too?”

“Actually he had a pretty much similar reaction to yours when I first proposed this. He was hesitating about this but then he agreed to it.”

“I-I don’t know what to say to be honest.”

“Here, drink this.” she says, giving you your cup of tea she made for you. “I know you probably need something stronger than tea.” She tries to joke.

“Damn right. I could use a bottle of vodka right now.” you mumble before you take a few sips of your tea which by the way – doesn't calm your nerves. Not even one bit.

It feels like your head is about to blow up. Never in a million years you've imagined Mina would come for help about something like this. You do appreciate that she shares such a personal matter with you. But you're still not quite sure why she wants you to help. Sure, she explained herself and you're not dumb to not notice how much this truly frustrates you. But still. This has to be the dumbest ask of help you've ever experienced.

Averting your gaze elsewhere, your mind goes spiral and your thoughts wander to the mentioned man.

Jimin is handsome. There’s no secret in that.

You remember the first time you saw him. It was at a party and your mouth dropped once you were met at his sharp jaw, black hair and thick lips. All of these features make him mesmerizing and unique. After the party, you saw him in your art class but you've never talked to each other during it. He remained this mysterious guy everyone was looking and drooling at. Only if you would've known him a little bit more, you could've said you had a tiny crush on him. But can you say you had it? You didn't even know his full name back then.

And then Mina met him.

Somehow they bumped into each other and soon enough, they started to have this weird friends-with-benefits relationship. You've never drooled at him anymore. It didn't feel appropriate. Not when your best friend was having sex with him at any opportunity. It felt weird to think about him that way. Of course, he never stopped being a hot piece of man – you're not blind. You've blocked every nearly inappropriate thought of him.

Mina's voice cuts off your thoughts of her boyfriend.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this. Not at all. I’m okay with whatever answer you’ll give me. I just had to try this with you because I’m so desperate. It’s been months since we had sex.” Her eyes turn glossy, sounding just as desperate as she says she is.

Knowing your best friend you're aware that this is something deep. This really must’ve bothered her when she came with this to you. She wouldn’t ask this of anyone else. Not when she’s completely in love with Jimin.

Have you ever imagined having sex with Jimin? Yes.

But do you still want it when he’s your best friend’s boyfriend? Not so sure anymore.

That sounds completely fucked up. Even if she seems to be okay with it.

Even when you don't want to admit it – Mina was right. You haven’t had sex for couple of months as well. You just didn’t want to hook up with someone you don't know, even if there were many opportunities for you to do so. You've always been picky about your taste and sex partners.

The last time you had sex was with your ex and that’s it. You've never had sex with someone who you weren’t dating with. It just wasn’t your thing. Still isn't.

What should you do? The decision is up to you. You could simply tell her no and then you would never have to talk about this again. But the desperation filling her face and the lack of sex in your life beg to differ. There's seriously something wrong with you because you catch yourself considering this. As if it already wasn't enough, Jimin's plump lips make their way into your brain. Argh! There's undeniable guilt pinching deep inside your chest because you're thinking about his lips when he's Mina's boyfriend. You can't help it.

Just the thought of seeing Jimin naked and feeling his skin against yours makes your skin hot already. Mina has opened the closed door now. Under different circumstances, you would've never dared to think of Jimin like this. Not anymore.

The lack of excitement and lust in your busy life is the cause of this. You suddenly start to imagine how this one time thing can be beneficial to all three of you.

Much to your surprise, you shock yourself and Mina when you mutter; “Okay, I’ll do it.”

Mina throws herself at you, clutching you to her body while you stay frozen, not being able to react in any way. You've no idea how this is going to go.

You are hoping you won’t regret your decision. This sounds already fucked up.

It takes only two days for Mina to set up a meeting with Jimin. You hate how businessy that sounds. Mina's idea consists of you and Jimin meeting somewhere alone, right before you jump straight to it. You're not sure if there's a point of getting to know each other a little bit better. However, she does have a point in making you two talk and make sure this is what you both want. You're not opposed to that. You definitely want to hear Jimin's opinion about this. Plus, Mina has never failed to remind you that you can back out whenever you want.

Even though you've tried to calm down your nerves and tried to tell yourself that this doesn't have to be any more awkward and weird than it already is – you just can't seem to shake off the nervosity flowing through your body. You're supposed to meet your best friend's boyfriend, talking about potentially hooking up together.

Mina gave Jimin your number which resulted in him texting you first. You don't think you could've made the first step. Not that it's required of you. It's them, well Mina, who came to you for help. As much as you'll get something out of this, potentially, they're the first ones who need help. It's not like you need one. All of this could be beneficial to you too.

Besides, you'll see how you and Jimin will get along and how the entire conversation will go.

You've agreed to meet at a local coffee shop, trying to keep it as casual as possible.

You wouldn't lie if you said you haven't considered backing out before even meeting Jimin. You're still not sure if you can face him and act all casual about this. In the end, you decide to keep your cool and at least try to see where all of this is going. Plus, you would feel bad for standing up Jimin. Or anyone who would be in his place.

Still, you nervously swallow as soon as you find Jimin sitting at a table, waiting for you. His phone is in his hand as he browses through it for a moment, just before he puts it back on the table and looks up. Your eyes lock shortly after and you realize there's no backing out now. You have to get there and meet him.

Maybe Jimin can sense your nervous state, or sees the way you hesitate but then he sends you a wide smile, waving you over. Gosh, you feel so weird. Not trying to block the entrance, you walk up to the table where he sits before you plop on the opposite side of him.

Seeing him this closer causes a lump to create in your throat. You're aware of his eyes on you as you pull out your phone out of the pocket of your jeans, trying to busy yourself before you have to truly face him. But all of this takes seconds and you're forced to lift your eyes up.

Brown hair parted in the middle, his eyes crinkle at the ends as he speaks softly; “Hi.”

It's been a while since you've heard him. Damn, you haven't seen him for weeks. That's if you don't count the art class you share. But even there, you barely paid any attention to each other.

“Hey,” you gulp, swallowing down the nervosity.

Before you can say anything more, the waitress comes to your table to take your orders. You order the first thing that crosses your mind which is a cherry tea. Jimin orders the exact same order looking slightly nervous. He doesn’t even look at the menu automatically saying 'same as her’.

“So,” he starts, chuckling and for the first time, you notice he's nervous too. “I don’t even know how to start. This is so weird.” he admits.

That makes you crack a grin.

“Tell me something about it. I thought I would run away as soon as I came here.” you laugh at yourself. Jimin joins your laughter, his top teeth sinking into his bottom juicy lip. God dammit.

“I’m going to be honest with you. I already know what my answer is and I’m not gonna change it. But if you feel like you want to back out you always can. I don’t want you to think this is something you have to do. Not for me or Mina. That’s our shit we pulled you into.” he says almost the exact same words as Mina. They both wanted you to know you don’t have to do this. And you know. God, you know - but you still want to do it.

“I know,” you smile at his caring gaze he is giving you. “But is this really something you want to do?” you ask just to be sure.

He smiles a little bit at your question. “I’m not going to lie. When Mina came to me with this idea I freaked out. But then it sounded kinda… good in some weirdest way possible. I love Mina but this is something we both agreed on.”

“Yeah, but like... I’m her best friend. Isn’t that weird?”

“It is. But I don’t really know you that much, no offense. I know you’re her best friend. She never shuts up about you but at the same time I don’t know you. No offense.” he says again, checking your reaction as if he's waiting for you to get offended.

“None taken.” you chuckle when he protectively puts his hands in front of him.

“So do you want to do this?” he asks, tone dropping lower as he stares into your eyes.

You bite your lip and without thinking you nod.

“Words. I need words Y/N.” Your name from his lips already sounds addicting.

“I do. I want this.” you speak softly, giving him the exact answer he wanted. He smirks a little bit, his sweet behavior changing to a cocky one for a bit.

You shake yourself out of the daze before it can erupt as you find your voice again.

“This is just a one time thing, right?”

“Of course.” he immediately agrees.

What kind of mess did you get yourself into?

It’s the D-day.

That sounds awful.

It’s time for you to have sex with Jimin. That sounds even more awful. You feel completely nauseous and nervous. But not in the way that makes you want to turn around. It probably sounds ridiculous and considering the situation and relationship between all three of you – you trust Jimin. You might not know him well enough, but he's familiar. He's no stranger. And from Mina's words back from the days they only hooked up, there is something to be excited for.

Which reminds you that Mina is working her shift, aware of you and Jimin hooking up today. You still can't believe she's fine with all of this and after numerous questions of whether she's sure of this or not, she has finally managed to convince you that yes, she is more than fine.

Since they relationship has started with sex, there's a chance that it's not important to their relationship that much anymore. You're not sure how they'll solve this in the future. Will Jimin fuck other girls?

Before you can burden your already ready-to-burst brain, you knock on Jimin's front door. Your jeans work as the best surface for you to wipe your sweaty hands against.

Why the hell are you constantly so nervous? Is it because you're about to have a sex for the first time in a while? Or is it because it's with Jimin out of all people? You're not sure.

The door opens and reveals Jimin.

He's wearing jeans with a black belt, with a matching black shirt tucked into them. He runs his fingers through his dark hair, exposing his forehead and brows to you as he shoots you a polite smile. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you almost stutter, but still give yourself a mental high-five for not stuttering.

Jimin eyes stay on your for a moment. He can probably see your nervous state. Hell, you aren’t even hiding it. You can’t but you wish you could.

“Please come in.” he says politely instead, moving to the side as he gives you a space for you to come in.

The moment you step inside, Jimin closing the door softly behind you, you note the scent of wood and something sweet. You can't put a finger on what it is, but it smells really nice.

Understandably, you've never been to his place. There wasn't any need to – let alone the opportunity. As you take off your shoes and let Jimin guide you deeper into his place, you silently take it in. You will give him points for a good taste in furniture and decoration. You're not sure what you've expected – not that you thought about what his place looks like – it still takes you by surprise. It's quite surprising seeing his home so beautiful. It's definitely modern with a personal touch of Jimin. Most men's homes are usually a big mess.

“Do you live alone?” you ask behind him, slowly following him.

“Yeah.”

“Don’t you feel alone here all by yourself?” you ask curiously once you stop in the living room. Jimin motions for you to sit on the white couch and you obey, seating yourself on the soft mattress.

“Mina is here most of the time, so no.” he answers.

Your movements stop for a moment at the mention of your best friend.

“Oh, sorry. I should not mention her right now.” he awkwardly scratches the back of his head as he gives you an apologetic look. He sits on the other end of the couch, looking more comfortable with his arm stretched over the headrest.

“Why not? She’s your girlfriend after all.” you say, shrugging your shoulders. You assure him that it's okay and there's no need for him to act like Mina is not existing. However, it is weird no matter what. The last thing you want to be reminded of before having sex is Mina. You already feel so fucking weird about this and him talking about your best friend doesn’t really help.

“She is but due to our circumstances it’s not fair to you,” he says, “Do you want anything to drink? Water, coffee? Maybe some alcohol?”

He wants you to feel as comfortable as you can. If giving you some alcohol would help, then so be it. You kindly shake your head though. “Nah, I’m good.”

He nods as awkward silence surrounds you. You both look at each other and suddenly start to laugh. “This is so awkward. Are we supposed to jump right into it?” you ask laughing at how ridiculous this situation is.

“I mean.. we could. I don’t mind.” he surprises you with his words. Especially how simply they fall out of his lips.

Staring at each other, something stirs deeply inside your stomach and you recognize the little excitement. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you smile. “I suppose we could.”

He offers you his hand which you gladly take. His hands clasps around yours without interweaving your fingers. He leads you into his bedroom which is even more beautiful than the living room. He has a massive bed at the end of his room. Two night tables on each side. Big closet with mirror opposite of it. You can see some art decorating his walls but it still looks minimal.

“A-are we.. you know.. in here?” Great, you've stuttered.

“You know. You can say it straight away you don’t have to sugarcoat it.” he chuckles a little bit while closing the door behind you.

“Fine. Are we gonna fuck here?” you ask straight away and look his way.

He has a little smirk on his plump lips which he licks.

“That’s how I like it,” he mumbles more to himself. “We could move to the living room or any place you’d like.” he suggests while your cheeks burn. Did he just implied you could fuck perhaps in the kitchen if you wanted to? He absolutely did.

“No, this is fine.” you say after a while. You are more fine with this actually. You just feel weird thinking this is where he and Mina sleep together.

“I know what you’re thinking. Me and Mina haven’t had sex for so long. But you already know that.”

How is he able to read you so well when he barely knows you? “That’s why I’m here.” you say quietly walking to his bed. You touch his silky sheets which must’ve cost fortune.

“Do you want to back out?” he asks suddenly. You turn around finding him staring at you with his dark eyes. His stare changes. He isn’t looking at you innocently and friendly like a few minutes ago. You can see one thing you were sure of. Lust.

You bite your lower lip shaking your head.

“Words, Y/N.” he speaks sternly. You immediately remember the day when you met at the coffee shop. He wants you to say it out loud.

“Fuck me, Jimin.” you speak loud enough for him to quickly walk up to you.

Grabbing your face he presses your lips together. Other than being in complete awe that Park Jimin is kissing you now, you hold yourself back from moaning when his delicious soft lips taste way better than you've ever imagined. Mina is damn lucky. Your lips melt together so fast and you can’t breathe. The build up frustration of the lack of sex – on both parts – seem to get the best of you. Once Jimin pulls away to catch his breath, you both breathe heavily as he doesn't move away, pressing his forehead to yours instead. Your breath catches in your throat from the close proximity. You can smell his aftershave and fragrance that practically oozes from him. Not just that but the raunchy sex appeal as well. His lips taste like a cherry lip balm and there are traces of mouthwash on his tongue.

You wonder if this isn’t weird for Jimin. Kissing you while his girlfriend is away and she knows about this. This is so fucking weird but you can’t help yourself and kiss him again despite the lack of your oxygen. You don't know what gets to you. It's probably desperation. You don't want to talk about who he truly is. You don't want to think about Mina. You're doing this to enjoy this. You will treat him as he's just a normal guy, with no attachments to you or anyone you know.

Pushing him against his chest, he lets you push him down onto the mattress. He smirks at the dominance. You're trying to stay unaffected as you climb onto his lap. He lets you, hands hovering over your hips before he holds you there. The moment you sit down, your mouth opens once you can tell his cock is hardening. The bulge in his jeans is not that hard to notice now.

It's not like you're not wet. Fuck, you're dripping wet – you can already tell the discomfort between your legs. What you find ridiculous though, is the fact that you're not sure you've ever been this aroused and wet for your ex boyfriend.

He's barely touching you and your whole body is on fire, desperate to tear his clothes off to see what he's hiding beneath them. Jimin stares up at you, the little smirk still playing on his lips as he squeezes your hips. You start kissing his jaw and neck, inhaling secretly his scent again while you're careful not to leave any marks. A visible proof of what you're about to do – what you're already doing – is not something Mina should see. Even if she knows. You would feel like a complete idiot if she had to see Jimin and find any marks on her boyfriend.

Going back to his face and lps, you connect them again in a heated kiss even though you don’t want to kiss too much. Well, not that you don't want to but you're not sure if it seems right. After all – kissing is too intimate but you can’t help it. His lips are so addicting you always have to dive for another taste.

Your body screams for more, so you slowly grind yourself against his bulge. Throwing your head back at the sudden friction and slight relief it brings, you can't believe you're fucking doing this. Jimin is not unaffected either, he grunts as he squeezes your hips tighter, all while he helps you grind against him. He puts more pressure, leaving both of you gasping.

“Fucking hell.” he moans loudly, embarrassed how quickly out of control he is.

But you're too oblivious to his inner embarrassment, having no idea what he's been through despite Mina letting you the main problem. The truth is, his hand doesn't do its job anymore. Jerking off in the mornings or in the shower is not thrilling anymore. Not when he has a beautiful girlfriend, whom he has wanted to touch everytime she just laid beside him only in her underwear. He knows the lack of sex has made his hormones go crazy. That's understandable. It's not like he sees her as a sexual object, not at all. He was completely fine with the occasional blowjobs or handjobs (when she didn't want to mess up her make-up). But the truth is, sex might not be the most important part or thing in their relationship, it's still a key to a healthy relationship in some way.

And he did touch her. Sometimes. But it was more of him waiting for her to lash out at him. He is walking on eggshells when it comes to her. That eventually made both of them frustrated in their own ways.

He wanted to fuck his girlfriend so many times, but she was never in the mood.

But here you are. Grinding on his cock, looking like a perfect mixture of angel and devil at the same time. All of a sudden, he halts your movements and is met with your confused eyes.

“Okay you had your fun.” he chuckles deeply, biting harshly on his lower lip when he feels his hard cock poking you at your clothed entrance. You look just as fucked out, but you still find yourself to ask.

“Do you want to stop?”

“Fuck no,” he replies immediately. You are ready to laugh at that, but the only sound leaving your lips is yelping when he turns you over. He smirks when he sees your surprised stare by the sudden movement and how easily he has managed to flip you over. “My turn.” he rasps, diving his head to your neck.

Jimin mimics your movements from earlier. You suddenly feel him sucking your skin, too fucked out to tell him to stop. You don’t mind it. You find it so hot. You find him so hot.

“Is it okay for me to undress you?” he asks with a soft tone and gaze.

“Go ahead.” you nod at him.

You see his sweet smile before his fingers work on your button and zipper. You help him undress your jeans leaving you in your shirt and white underwear. You see him biting his lower lip again before he continues to take off your shirt. You are left in your underwear in seconds. The white bralette is complimenting your breasts and Jimin feels like salivating at the pure sight. Fuck, he needs to get himself together.

Jimin is unaware that you've picked your best underwear set you have in your closet. As much as he's not aware how guilty you feel for trying for him. You wanted to look good for him. It’s not like you want to seduce him. You just wanted to look your best. You still don’t understand what Jimin sees in you, or more accurately, why he had agreed to do this with you.

It seems like he wants to say something but he stops himself before pulling your panties down to your ankles. He tosses them on the floor not caring where they’re going to end. His gaze is locked up at your spread legs. Insecurity is already crawling through your whole body. You are about to clasp your legs when he stops you. Giving you a small smile seconds before he opens his mouth.

“Can I go down on you?” he asks suddenly. You lift your head and look at him surprisingly.

He wants to eat you out? Well damn, you're shocked again. You thought you’ll just have sex and that’s it. No foreplay. Not that you're complaining.

“Yes.” The answer comes immediately. And then you feel hot breath where you most need him.

He licks your pussy, having a taste of you. You moan loudly, throwing your head back in pleasure. You arch your back wanting nothing more than to touch him. But you know better and grab silky sheets instead.

“Oh my god!” you moan when you feel his tongue at your hole before he presses further. “Fuck Jimin!” You feel yourself clenching around his tongue.

He fucks you with his tongue, his two fingers pressing against your clit. He has experience, that's for sure. All this time you've craved someone else's touch and now you're getting it. You're way more sensitive which makes your orgasm approach faster than ever. You don't want it to end. Grabbing Jimin's hair and pulling onto them gently, still careful not to hurt him, you give him a silent plea of stopping. But he still keeps going, feeling you getting close.

“Stop, Jimin.” you moan and he immediately pulls away.

Mouth drenched in your wetness, his worried eyes are on you just as you breathe heavily, ignoring the feeling of disappointment your body feels. Your walls clench around nothing.

“Just fuck me. I can’t wait any longer.” you breathe, trying to calm down yourself. He immediately relaxes, something you notice just as he sits back on his knees.

“So greedy.” Chuckling he undresses himself.

You're watching his every movement while he watches your lustful gaze. He feel his chock twitching at your already fuck out state. You watch him pull his boxers off revealing his cock. You don’t know what you were expecting but damn is he thick. Knowing it's been a while since you've had sex, you wonder if he's going to fit.

“You mentioned you’re clean, right?” he asks, suddenly stroking his cock casually. You remember your conversation you had in the coffee shop. You both got tested and you’re both clean.

“Are you ready?” he asks for the last time.

You're about to nod, noticing the way he lifts up his brow as if he knew what you're about to do. Clearing your throat, you remember he wants to hear you.

“Yes.”

He chuckles at this knowing exactly what was going on inside your head.

He leans over you as he opens a drawer of his night stand. He pulls out a condom already ripping off the package. He gets back into his previous spot – he moves between your spread legs and puts the head of his cock at your entrance. “God, you’re so wet.” he says, almost fascinated.

You cringe at yourself when you find yourself almost saying just for you. He gathers some of the wetness onto his cock. He is about to tease you but god, you make it so hard for him. Spreaded in front of him like this completely naked. He says to himself little fuck it and slowly enters you. You want to squeeze your eyes shut but you don’t. You look at him through your hooded eyes. His eyes are closed and pleasure written all over his face.

“How are you this tight?” he grunts when he fills you to the brim. God, he's so thick. The words make you clench around him automatically. “You good? Can I move?” he almost begs but still stops to make sure you’re okay with this.

“Yeah, move. Please.” you whimper - the feeling of pain and pleasure becoming too much for you. You need him to move.

“As you wish, princess.” he suddenly says completely surprising you with the pet name. He probably got lost in the pleasure, you guess. And he does as he says.

He starts slowly but it feels like he can’t keep going slow as he fastens up his pace. His left hand grabs your hips so you wouldn’t move too much. His other hand takes one of your breasts, squeezing gently as his thumb brushes over your nipple.

“Have you been fucked like this?” He grunts, keeping his rapid pace. Moans escaping your lips. “I asked you something.” he growls pinching your nipple causing you to arch your back moaning loudly.

“No. No one fucked me like this.” You answer between moans grabbing his hand that's on your breast. You stare at the veiny hand, enough to make your eyes roll back. What a fucking sight.

“I’ll fuck you properly. Don’t worry.” he smirks and starts to go even rougher and faster. You don’t think that was even possible.

“Fuck.” you moan, aware of the loudness and momentarily, you think of his neighbors hearing you. All of it is gone when Jimin speaks through clenched teeth.

“Moan my name.” he gasps.

You hesitate, not sure what to do. But his hand leaves your hip and instead comes around your neck. Your eyes widen, walls tightening when he squeezes slightly. Not too much – you barely feel it.

“I said, moan my name Y/N.” he growls like some beast having you moan his name again and again. You feel your orgasm approaching still not wanting to cum. It’s too soon for you. You could go for hours like this. As much as embarrassing it is to admit.

“Cum for me, princess. Cum around my cock.” he keeps grunting from above you and the blissful sound of his moans makes you squeeze him tight. The knot suddenly rips and you're cumming around him, your entire body feeling light.

You feel him twitch inside you, giving you a few firm thrusts before his moves become sloppy. Big fuck leaving his lips as he spills inside the condom. Once he's done, every drop of his cum inside the condom, he lays beside you while you both breathe heavily. You close your eyes for a bit trying to catch a breath.

Moments later, you feel the mattress dip as he moves. Opening your eyes, you see him standing up. He throws the condom into the bin that sits in the corner of his room. Sitting up, now that the moment is over you feel the weird feeling coming back.

You've never been in this situation before. What are you supposed to do? You should probably get the hell out of here. Jimin's eyes are on you, watching you and your naked figure as you quickly get to the edge of his bed, grabbing your shirt.

“I, uh, I should probably go.” you mutter awkwardly, quickly putting on your shirt followed by your panties. You don't bother to put the bra on, silently showing how quickly you want to get out of here.

“You can take a shower if you want.” he offers while putting his boxers back on.

You look at him stopping all your movements debating what to do. “Look, I don’t want to make this weird. Go take a shower, I’ll wait and then you can go home, okay? You don’t have to feel like escaping.” he says softly, but his eyes are nothing but serious.

As much as you want to leave, you kind of don’t. But the sound of shower and the thought of wiping the sweat and smell of sex sounds good. The whole bedroom reeks of sex.

“Okay.” you reply, picking up jeans from the floor.

“The first door on the right.” he tells you and with soft thank you you scurry into the bathroom.

His bathroom has a nice shower but also a bathtub on the opposite side. You quickly clean yourself thinking of how good Jimin’s touch felt. It’s too good and it’s all you can think about. You slowly shake your head thinking it’s from the adrenaline you feel right now. When you dress your clothes back on you slowly walk into the kitchen where Jimin is standing.

He turns around when he hears your footsteps. “Are you okay?” he asks you once his eyes find yours.

You nod despite feeling a big ache between your legs. He really fucked you roughly. “Do you want something to drink or eat?”

His behavior makes you a little bit surprised. He acts like nothing happened while you’re freaking out inside. “No, thanks. I should probably go.” you say awkwardly.

He escorts you to the front door where you quickly put your shoes and jacket on. When you are about to leave, his soft voice calling your name stops you. “Thank you.”

“For what? That’s what we all agreed on.” you laugh nervously. He simply nods, opening the door for you.

“I’ll see you.” he says with a little smile.

“Bye, Jimin.” you smile and quickly turn around to hide your red face.

When you hear the soft thud of a closed door, you exhale heavily.

Holy shit, you just slept with your best friend’s boyfriend. And it was fucking great.

#networkbangtan #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #bts smut #jimin x reader #jimin smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts au #jimin fic #personasintro

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0cta9on · 1 month

Note

You want fluff requests? Please do (G)I-DLE Soojin! I wanna read M Reader literally sleeping with her.

Hello anon! Sorry for taking so long on this one :> Also, never thought I'd have to do this for a short, but thanks to @msafterhours for looking over this, you're a real one lmao :]

The scratching of graphite against paper is a tune you’ve come to memorize, even enjoy as late nights provide the much needed quiet and solitude that allows space for your creativity to thrive. The people around you have plenty to say about your poor sleeping habits, but you can’t exactly help it if an idea for a garment comes to you as the sun dips below the horizon. In the long history of great creatives, “good health” doesn’t exactly rank high on their list of priorities, so you figure you’re on par to opening that high end fashion brand one day.

A gentle rasp against your front door reminds you to straighten your back. The clock reads 1AM, who the hell could it be at this hour?

“Hey,” Soojin greets you from the other side of the door, carrying a pillow and wearing a bizarre combination of an oversized band tee and pajama pants with pumpkins all over them.

“Uh, hey, what are you doing here?”

She nervously shifts her gaze from side to side, avoiding your eyes entirely. “Well, I was in the neighborhood and—”

“Carrying a pillow?”

A hint of pink forms on her cheeks like blooming sakuras. “...Y-yes. Anyways, I thought I’d stop by and visit a friend.”

“It’s 1 in the morning, what if I was sleeping?”

“You? Asleep at a normal time?” she scoffs. “I think hell would freeze before that would happen.”

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as her regular cocky attitude shines through. “Yeah yeah, whatever. Come in.”

Soojin’s grin widens as she skips into your apartment like she’s done plenty of times before, her gaze immediately gravitating towards the messy pile of sketches on your desk. “What’cha working on this time?”

“Just an idea for a dress I had,” you say, tidying up around your apartment. She shoots you a familiar impish look that always precedes an increasingly annoying line she likes to repeat.

“If you ever needed a model—”

“I know, Soojin,” you groan. “You’ll be the first person I call, alright?”

“Just making sure,” she chuckles at your expense, plopping herself onto your coach.

“Why are you really here?” you ask. That same nervous expression pops up on her face, an obvious tell whenever she doesn’t want to reveal the truth.

“I told you already, I was in the neighborhood and wanted to visit you.” She clutches her pillow closer to her chest, her gaze glued to the ground. “That’s all.”

You sigh. “You live a good half an hour from me, and that’s the best lie you could think of?” you quip, raising an eyebrow at her. All that gets you is a solid smack to the back of your head that knocks a few of your screws loose.

“I-I’m not lying!”

“ALRIGHT, DAMN!” you exclaim, clutching the back of your head in pain. The room falls into a tense silence as she huffs into her pillow.

Lies were so commonplace on Soojin’s tongue, as normal as butter on toast. You’ve come to expect every other word out of her mouth to be laced with some kind of half-truth, all dolled up to hide the cracks underneath. You can’t help but wonder why she keeps you around if all she does is play make believe with you.

“...Sorry for hitting you,” she murmurs, her tone uncharacteristically somber.

“Yeah, whatever,” you mutter, resting your head against the back of the couch.

“I, uh…” Her shoulders rise and fall as a heavy breath falls from her lips. “I wasn’t just in the neighborhood.”

“Yeah?” You glance towards her, curiosity piqued.

“Y-yeah, um… God, this is gonna sound so stupid.”

“Hey,” you say gently, resting your hand on her shoulder. “It’s fine. Are you alright?”

She sighs. “Promise me that you’re not gonna laugh.”

Your heartbeat echoes with anticipation, crescendoing in your chest. “Um, alright, I won’t laugh.”

“Promise me,” she scowls, shooting fire with her eyes.

“O-okay, I promise,” you gulp nervously. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I, uh…” Soojin shoves her face into her pillow, muffling her voice. “Ifhadnighmar.”

“Huh?”

She huffs in annoyance before spewing, “I had a nightmare! There, I said it! Look at me, a grown ass woman with a nightmare! Whoopty-fucking-doo!”

You shrink in your seat from her outburst, but despite it all, you can’t help but feel grateful. Her eyes were on you the whole time she was yelling. She didn’t lie to you.

“Hey, it happens, what can you do?” You stand up from your seat and stretch out your back, a bout of exhaustion hitting you as the muscles in your lower back relax. “You’re free to crash on the couch if you want—”

“W-wait!” Soojin grabs onto your arm, her eyes wide in panic. “I, uh… Nevermind. Sorry.”

For how much she lies, it’s a wonder how easy it is to read her. She’s like an open book written in a language that you can only partially understand. Sure, it takes a while to completely get her, but all that time and effort is worth it in the end.

“Eh, my room is too far, you mind if I stay on the couch with you?” you ask her.

The corners of her lips lift into a sly smile, but her eyes betray her true feelings as they beam at you with appreciation. “Hm, fine. I don’t usually let guys sleep with me until the second date, but I’m willing to make an exception just this one time.”

“Oh god, if this is your idea of a first date, then we desperately need to find you a better taste in men,” you chuckle, molding your body into the space next to her. Soojin smacks your face with her pillow before laying on top of you.

“Whatever,” she huffs, shifting her body into a comfortable position. You begin to push her off, but decide against it as the warmth of her body sends you towards a peaceful slumber. A gentle pressure on your cheek is the last thing you feel before succumbing to your own exhaustion.

#g idle #seo soojin #g idle soojin #kpop fanfic #kpop gg #soojin x male reader #g idle soojin x male reader #soojin x male oc #g idle soojin x male oc #fluff #soojin fluff #g idle soojin fluff

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messrmoonyy · 2 years

Note

okay how about Tess and reader having a bet to see who can crack first without sex and reader cracks and begs Tess to fuck her? Thank you our lord and saviour messr 🙌🏻

Bet on it

Tess Servopoulos x fem!reader

A/n- hello. Thank you for the manners lmao it’s ben annoying me people don’t have the decency to be polite. ANYWAYS. I was really looking for an excuse to write about going down in Tess cause it’s been rattling around in my head for so long, so I took this as the excuse. Pls tess gimme one chance I beg tho I won’t lie I don’t like this one all that much but. Have it. What are you gonna do, ask me for a refund?

Warnings- 18+|| tess. Smut: mommy kink. Like it’s pretty strong, oral ( Tess receiving ) , fingering ( Tess and reader receiving sorta )

Word count- 3.7k

Masterlist

Reblogs and comments are always appreciated

It was all Joel’s fault.

Him and his stupid fucking mouth. And maybe Tess too. Either way, you refused to take any blame.

It wasn’t your fault you were… loud. It also wasn’t your fault the walls were paper fucking thin and he just so happened to live next door. The man was damn half deaf and 9 times out of 10 he was passed out anyway, some brain rotting concoction of pain killers and whiskey knocking him out for the count. So it’s not like you’d made any real attempts to be quiet anyway, you just assumed he couldn’t hear.

How were you supposed to be quiet when you had someone like fucking Tess between your legs. You’d like to see anyone keep their mouth shut with her fucking the life out of them. Well. You wouldn’t actually. But that was besides the point.

He was probably just pissed because his sex life was non existent.

‘ you can’t go a single day without goddamn jumpin each other. It’s like livin next to a pair of rabbits ‘ he’d said. Of course you being the stubborn fuck that you were, had said you absolutely could go a day. Joking that it was Tess who couldn’t keep her hands to herself. And she had scoffed at the mere thought of her being the needier of you two.

So that was how the bet had been born. To see who could last the longest. Who would crack first. You’d expected it to only last a couple of days at the most. Tess jumped your bones every chance she got normally, couldn’t keep her hands off of you. But now she was behaving like a fucking nun.

The first few days had been fine. But by day 3 you were regretting it. So by day 8 you’d had enough. You felt like an animal in heat, like you were going insane. She wasn’t even doing anything particularly alluring. Just her presence alone was enough to make you insane. Her voice. Her face. The way she held you when you slept. The confidence she oozed in any and all situations. You were head over heels for the woman, how were you supposed to behave any differently?

Bit knowing how stubborn she could be you’d almost immediately accepted that she wouldn’t break. It wouldn’t stop you trying though. You were trying your hardest to make her crack, from deciding walking around the apartment in your underwear was perfectly normal. To ‘accidentally’ brushing against her when you shared the rationed water in the shower. But other than the occasional glance up at you she wasn’t breaking. In fact when you’d tried another tactic of leaving your button up only half way done up. She’d simply stood and buttoned it right up to the collar for you, leaning in close to your ear and whispering ‘ nice try ‘

By day 10 you decided you didn’t give a fuck about honour or pride anymore. You were done.

You were sat at the table, fingers drumming against the wood as you watched her. She had the sleeves of her shirt rolled in a way that showed off her forearms, she fucking knew you had a thing for that. She was doing it on purpose, knowing you’d snap. You were sure.

You needed to touch her. Needed her to touch you.

You didn’t think it was actually humanly possible to be as desperate as you were. Before ending up in Boston you’d gone years without anything. And yet, now you weren’t even going to make it to 2 weeks. Were you that enthralled by her? That addicted? It was almost embarrassing.

Especially when she seemed as cool and collected as ever.

You tried to ignore her, looking back down at your rota of assignments for the week. But you could still see her from the corner of your eye, wetting the pads of her fingers to turn the page in her book more easily.

You didn’t know if you should be mildly offended or not. That she seemed to be doing much better than you were. Though she had always been the better of you both at masking her true emotions and feelings.

You didn’t know how much longer you could take it. Waking up every morning to soaked underwear because your dreams had been filled with nothing but her, missing the way her fingers felt on your skin, how her teeth felt nipping at your neck. You missed the hickeys, the bruises she always left on your hips when she was feeling particularly rough. The scratch marks you’d leave down her back in response.

You were done.

You got up from your spot at the table and made your way over to her in purposeful strides, plucking the book from her hands and climbing into her lap. She quirked at eyebrow at you, a smug smile already creeping it’s way onto her face.

“ I was reading that “ you shrugged running your hands down over her shoulders and arms, over her chest and grabbing at the collar of her shirt.

“ this bet is fuckin stupid. I need you so bad. I can’t take it anymore “ you whispered, a whiny tone to your voice like some spoiled little kid that was being declined something they wanted. She simply scoffed

“ it was your fuckin idea “

“ I know I know. It was stupid. I’m stupid. Joel’s fuckin stupid “ you tested the waters lightly, pulling open her shirt where she already had the first couple buttons undone. Not revealing anything particularly scandalous, but still overjoyed just at the sight of more of her skin “ please. Please fuck me. Touch me. Let me touch you. Anything. Mommy please “ you whimpered the last part, pulling out every trick in the book to make her crack.

“ oh you’re begging now? “ you whispered a yes, nodding you head. You unbuttoned her shirt with haste, her hands still placed firmly on the fabric of the chair rather than you. You rolled your hips against her, pushing her shirt from her shoulders and tossing it carelessly behind you. But before you could touch her she grabbed the back of your neck, making you look at her.

“ this was your idea baby girl, and you want to end it? “ she looked far too smug and you hated her for it. But you were so desperately horny it was making your brain fuzzy. Your hands traveled down to her jeans, desperate to unbutton those too “ I know your tricks. You just want to win ”

“ I don’t care about winning, Fuck if you won’t touch me let me touch you “ you said, dropping your head to press kisses across her neck “ please mommy” her spare hand that was still on the armrest shifted slightly, still didn’t touch you anywhere you particularly wanted her. But moved. You were working her down “ please let me touch you. Let me taste. I’ll be so good I promise. You win. You win “

You hands trailed back to her chest, grabbing at her through the material of her bra, grabby hands groping at her with no shame.

“ you wanna make mommy feel good? “ the low, sultry, tone of her voice made butterflies explode in your chest. You lifted your head, nodding and not letting your hands stop their wandering.

“ please “ she looked entirely too smug and you knew you would never hear the end of it. She would hold the fact that she had won over you for the foreseeable. But you’d be pissed about that later, in that moment you didn’t give a fuck. The only thought whirring around in your brain was getting your mouth on her, you wanted to taste her on your tongue, wanted to make sure she’d never want to go so long without you again “ can I? Please “

She observed your face for a moment, then gave you a small nod and it was all the confirmation you needed. You slid down from her lap and onto your knees on the floor.

“ always look so pretty on your knees for me “ she mused as you grabbed at her jeans, tugging them down her legs as she lifted slightly so you could get them off “ just so we’re clear, you know this means I win and I’ll be tellin Joel that you lost and not me right? “ you nodded fervently, mildly surprised that she was actually letting you rid her of her clothes. Almost expecting the entire thing to be a joke, making you keep going with the stupid fucking bet until you actually exploded.

But clearly she was as desperate for it as you were. She was just better at controlling herself. She always had been.

“ I know. I don’t care “ the way she was already clearly wet when you tugged her underwear down her legs too, was proof enough that she was well and truly done with the bet too. You practically drooled at the sight, already anticipating the familiar taste of her in your mouth “ wanna taste you. Can I. Please mommy “ you begged and she reached down, lifting your chin and making you look up at her.

“ my poor baby, so desperate “ it was almost mocking. She was fucking loving the fact that she had won “ gonna show mommy just how desperate you are? Hmm? “ in response you ran your hands over her thighs, pushing them apart and tugging her closer “ show mommy what a good girl you are “

She took a sharp intake of breath as you buried your face between her legs, sighing blissfully as the taste of her flooded your tongue. You wanted to reach every part of her, your tongue dragging between her folds, devouring her. No desire in making it last, a burning primal desire to have her coming on your tongue the only thing you could think about.

You spread her with your fingers, lapping at her hole and not letting a drop of her arousal go anywhere but your tongue. Relishing in the small sounds it earned you.

“ that’s mommy’s good girl “ she sighed, her hand threading into your hair and tugging lightly so that your scalp prickled. You hummed a response, not slowing in your ministrations, tracing a pattern with your tongue from her entrance to her clit. Your chin and lips were slick with her. She filled all of your senses.

Your nose. Your eyes. Your mouth. The velvety feel of her walls when you dipped your tongue inside of her, the sounds of her quiet breathy moans and vulgar sounds of how wet she was. It’s what you had been yearning for for days, what your dreams had been filled with. A never ending stream of praise as you made her feel good. You moaned against her, the vibrations clearly doing her wonders.

You own cunt was flooding your underwear, your clit desperate to be touched. You were half tempted to reach down and touch yourself, but she deserved your undivided attention. So you settled with squeezing your thighs together.

“ makin mommy feel so good. Just like that baby “ her voice was breathier and you couldn’t help the smile that crept it’s way onto your face. It was no lie that she was a god when it came to making you feel good, she knew exactly how to pull you apart in minutes. But she was much more difficult to navigate, harder to read. She wasn’t like you. She often urged you to be loud, to make noise and be vocal. But she was the opposite.

For someone so rough and confident she was much more gentle and soft in her reactions. It was all in her breathing, the sharp intakes and the shuddering breaths, the quiet curses that never usually went much louder than a whisper, only getting anything else from her if you managed to get her completely relaxed.

And the near breathless commands and instructions she still gave you, keeping you in check. Keeping you exactly where she wanted you doing exactly as she wanted. And showering you in the praise she knew you so desperately craved from her.

And nothing made you feel better than watching her fall apart. Because of you.

The tight grip on your hair grew impossibly stronger when you slipped in a finger, adding a second when your first was met with no resistance, burying them inside her to the knuckle.

“ fuck “ she whispered under her breath, her eyes falling closed for a moment. You watched her face carefully as you worked her open on your fingers, scissoring and curling them in some attempt to touch as much of her as you could. Stretching and massaging her velvety soft walls with your fingers, honing in on one spot when you noticed her reactions change.

“ such a good girl doin so well for me baby “ the way she was clenching around your fingers told you she wasn’t going to last much longer. So you kept at the pace, fingers curling up and hitting the same spot over and over. Tongue and lips practically abusing her clit in a way that was making your jaw ache, not that you cared “ like makin mommy feel good? Huh? “ you hummed an answer against her that drew another heavenly sound from her throat.

Nothing brought you more joy than watching her fall apart above you, knowing that only you could get her like that. Only you got to see that blissful look on her face, her eyes closed and soft breathy moans leaving her throat and going straight to your cunt.

“ that’s my girl. Like that. Gonna make mommy come. Is that what you want baby? “ you nodded, detaching yourself from her with a mildly obscene wet sound.

“ Wanna feel you come on my tongue“ you practically whined, begging for the privilege of being the one the push her over the edge. To gift her with the same earth shattering orgasm she so often gave to you “ please mommy “

“ since you’ve been such a good girl for me “ you didn’t wait a second longer, withdrawing your fingers and replacing them with your tongue. You gripped at her thighs, holding her in place, your eyes fixed on her face so you could watch every second “ that’s it baby, make mommy come. That’s my good girl “ her tone was higher, breathes quickening the rise and fall of her chest.

You started to rub soft circles into her clit with your thumb, relishing in the way she was clearly losing her composure. Squirming slightly in the chair, pushing your face closer until she was all consuming in your mind.

It was becoming slightly difficult to breathe but you weren’t about to complain. If you were gonna die you figured that was pretty alright way to go out. The searing heat of her on your tongue was enough to make you forget every single other thing in your mind.

A few more thrusts of your tongue and she was gone, head thrown back and her eyes screwed shut, heavenly sound after heavenly sound falling from her lips like music to your ears. You didn’t stop for a second. Lapping up every drop of creamy, sweet release she offered you.

You didn’t stop until she gently tugged your head back, your actions clearly bordering on being too much for her. You rested your head against her thigh, looking up at where she was running a hand through her hair and attempting to regain her composure.

“ you couldn’t have done that a week ago baby? Fuck “ a grin found its way onto your face, happy for the verbal confirmation that she had been struggling just as much as you had. She was just far better at hiding it.

“ I do good mommy? “ you asked softly, pressing a kiss to the silky soft skin of her thigh. She looked down at you with a soft smile and nodded.

“ so good baby. Come here. Up here “ you crawled back up into her lap, readily accepting her kisses when she pulled you in, the taste of her still lingering on your tongue “ seriously baby I needed that when you decided to walk around in your fuckin underwear “ she said when she pulled back, tucking her fingers under your chin.

She looked otherworldly. Her face flushed and glowing, the light sheen of sweat on her forehead and the hazy look in her eyes that could only come from having your lover between your thighs. It made you squirm a little in her lap, your panties completely soaked. You almost wondered if she could feel it.

“ I don’t know how I made it this long “ she laughed at that, her eyes flickering down to where you were wiggling around. She gave you an almost sympathetic smile, the backs of her fingers brushing along your jaw before pushing your hair away from your neck.

“ does my baby need some attention from mommy now? “ you almost sighed in relief, nodding your head “ you want mommy to fuck you? Hmm? “ her nose traced along your neck, lips brushing against the skin and making your cheeks flush and goosebumps follow in her wake.

Her hand came up, palming at your tit through the thin material of your T-shirt as she began working a deep purple bruise onto the tender skin of your neck.

“ mommy “ you whimpered, eyes falling closed as she marked you up in the way you adored most. It made warmth pool in your belly every time. Knowing she wanted to mark you. Brand you. You were hers. You belonged to her. Completely and utterly. And she wanted people to know it.

The friction of the cotton of your shirt against your nipple sent sparks straight to your cunt, your clit throbbing. Desperately wanting to be touched. You needed her fingers. Her mouth. Anything. You were so desperate you even wondered if you’d be able to get off just from the way she was grabbing at your chest.

“ please I can’t- “

“ it’s okay baby “ she cooed, soothing the last of her possessive marks with her tongue before lifting her head again “ tell mommy what you want. Use your words “

“ you. I. I want you. Anything just please- “ you cut yourself off with a pathetic mewl of a sound as she dipped her hand past the waistband of your sweats, fingers brushing over the soaked cotton of your underwear.

“ holy shit “ she mumbled mostly to herself, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment at just how wet you were for her. She hadn’t even touched you “ my baby’s so desperate huh? “ you nodded, dropping your face to her shoulder and hiding from her gaze “ my poor sweet baby “ she cooed, running a soft hand up and down your spine “ if only you weren’t so stubborn you wouldn’t be in this mess would you? Mommy could’ve been eating this perfect little pussy days ago “

Your face burned at her words, still squirming as she ran her finger lightly over your swollen clit through the soaked material of your underwear. It was too light to really do anything, but just enough pressure for you to know she was there. It was infuriating.

“ I need more. Please mommy I can’t take it anymore “ her spare hand gently nudged your face up from where you’d been hiding, cupping your cheek in her hand as her eyes scanned your features. You wondered if your desperation was evident on your face.

No. You knew it was.

“ can you do one thing for me? “

“ anything. I’ll do anything “ she smiled, clearly pleased with your willingness to obey without even knowing what she was going to ask. No questions. No second thoughts. Just complete obedience to her every command. She brushed her thumb across your bottom lip before pushing past and hooking it into your mouth. Her smile grew as you moaned softly, sucking without her even having to ask.

“ I wanna hear all those pretty noises you like to make for me. Can you do that? “ you nodded quickly, knowing there wasn’t even a remote chance you’d be able to keep yourself quiet. Not after 10 days of absolutely nothing from her “ that’s my good girl, mommy loves when you’re loud for her “

You rolled your hips, no patience left in you anymore. She took the hint, rubbing at your clit through your underwear with two fingers. The friction of the cotton, the pressure of her fingers, and the fact that you had been wanting to come for days, meant you were going to be done ridiculously fast.

“ I know baby, I got you “ she cooed as you whined in a frustrated desperation, fingers wrapping around her wrist as you rutted against her hand some more. Your orgasm was so close you could practically taste it “ I know you’re so desperate to come, don’t fight it baby. It’s okay. Mommy’s got you “ you closed your eyes, focussing solely on grinding into her hand, cheeks on fire at the crude squelching sounds your cunt was making as you moved.

“ mommy- “ you whined, biting down lightly on her thumb that was still in your mouth, not holding back a single moan. Letting them all tumble out of your throat without a care.

“ I know baby girl. Gonna show me how pretty you look when you come for me?” You nodded, increasing the pace that you rolled your hips, ignoring the way your legs were beginning to cramp up “ such pretty sounds “ she mused as your moans increased in pitch, your orgasm teetering on a ledge already.

Maybe you should’ve been a little embarrassed. She wasn’t even touching you properly, a barrier of cotton between her fingers and your cunt. But you weren’t at all. A Selfish desire to come being the only thing you could think about. You’d be embarrassed later.

Your climax was intense. 10 days of lusting after her with no release finally coming to a head. She praised you all the way through it, and only withdrew her hand from your sweats when you slumped against her with a content sigh.

She ran her hand up and down your back lightly, pressing kisses to the side of your head.

“ better? “ you hummed a response, trying to live in that afterglow for as long as you could. If you were being completely honest, it had been good to finally get… something. But you weren’t entirely satisfied. Thankfully Tess was rarely ready to call it a night without making you come at least twice. And was also as if she could read your mind.

“ don’t get too comfy baby. We have 10 days to make up for. Mommy’s not done with you yet “ you squealed as she stood up, taking you with her and carrying you over to the bed. You wrapped your arms and legs tightly around her as she lay you down, not wanting her to go anywhere “ now. Let’s teach that fucker next door a lesson shall we? “

#tess servopoulos x reader #tess servopoulos #the last of us #tlou hbo #the last of us fanfic #x you #smut #anna torv #tlou #other characters for exposure:#ellie williams #Joel miller #lgbt #lesbian #fluff

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catchyhuh · 3 months

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(gif of guy pointing at himself and mouthing "me?" here)

WELL! WE ALREADY DID HOW OFTEN *THEY* SAY I LOVE YOU AND NOW VICE VERSA! how do they REACT when someone says i love you and do they even fucking believe it? more at 10

lupin:

yeah he loves you too! conversation continues like nothing changed

he believes them. like he does think they mean it. he just can’t imagine it bearing a lot of weight since, as discussed, he doesn’t usually say it with a lot of weight

if it were truly a serious circumstance and the person reiterated, no, this means something, i love you, then he might react a bit more genuinely

by. not saying it back

lupin says “i love you” when he wants and when he feels it’s right. not out of obligation. if anything it feels lame saying it back because you’re just copying the first person. so he just smiles a bit more sincerely.

he enjoys it. it’s nice.

jigen:

uh huh. sure. HE’S NOT BELIEVING AAANYBODY ABOUT THIS MAN HE’S NOT BELIEVING ANYBODY

he’s not believing HIMSELF. even coming from people he knows he just takes it as a lighthearted statement every single time. living with lupin for decades probably doesn’t help his case

at best he’d take it to mean “you mean a lot to me” which is… technically true, i guess, but there’s something missing there. and even then, he still doesn’t totally believe even THAT coming from most people

if somebody really did get the closest they could to convincing him, he’d be less prickly for a while, maybe a bit more quiet. but for the most part he’s reacting internally, and once he gets past the confusion and mistrust, it… does give him a small warm feeling in his chest. a small one

fujiko:

it’s funny, because she simultaneously believes them and also doesn’t

taking it in good faith here, does so-and-so THINK they love her? yes. do they think they’re being honest? yes! she knows this. but do they really love her? no!

usually when she hears it it’s almost completely a hollow statement, so she does know through context and actions when someone really is being genuine. it’s just a matter of how much actual fujiko-ing they’ve witnessed that proves whether or not they really mean it

it’s really easy to love the IDEA of fujiko, but as a personnnn?? hmmmmmm

the only time it’s truly easy to make her believe the statement is when it comes from a kid. they’ve got no reason to lie, nothing to gain, and they’re usually pretty good judges of character.

don’t get it twisted she’s not “maternal” by any means lmao it just feels… the most believable, coming from people who exclusively see it as a big announcement of admiration and friendship and everything. very cute!

goemon:

can i throw out something maybe disagreeable. goemon is the easiest to convince. yes more than zenigata i know you were thinking “hmhmhm obviously zenigata being the sensitive motherfucker he is is going to rank most trusting” nope! it’s this fucking wall of emotion

you can point to at least one ep from each series, like every third tv special, at least once per manga run no MATTER the author, and goemon will truly, honest to god believe he has met his match. he hears the words “i love you” and just… subconsciously projects his own usage of the term onto the other person

and if he’s this much of a sucker for the romantic i love you than you know he’s even more accepting of a platonic one! because WHY EVEN LIE ABOUT THAT

it’s not a matter of him being stupid or naive, of course he knows there are bad people trying to manipulate others, including him, and he KNOWS he has a sign on his back that says “I GET SLIGHTLY EMBARRASSED WHEN SOMEBODY OPENS THE DOOR FOR ME AND SMILES -- EASY TARGET” but. he’s just… very willing to believe that people don’t immediately use love as a stepping stone in a scheme

zenigata:

he wants to believe it the most. he kind of flounders with it for a minute. is it.. a joke? is it a bit? no… okay, is it to catch him off guard and knock him down? not that either. hm. is it some kind of secret coded message he was supposed to know and missed or wh

someone would have to say it at least three times over the span of multiple days for him to even entertain the idea that they could be sincere. AND HE REALLY, REALLY WANTS IT TO BE SINCERE

because if he KNOWS its genuine he can smile really big with a goofy giggle and say the same. it’s just hard working up to that point, is all

deep down he does believe it initially every time, so it stings twice as much if it’s a ruse of some kind even though he DID suspect that. rough

but people don’t usually pull that kind of “build a very solid close friendship/convince this man i’ve fallen in love with him” tactic on zenigata the way they do with the others? so he’s a lot safer from this than he realizes! just. comparatively!

#sorry my heading phrases are always either boringly on the nose or borderline baffling i just. look at whats in my big ass google doc and go #well. ok. cant think of anything better here #lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin #jigen #fujiko #goemon #zenigata

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peachdues · 1 year

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Small Phanta update

I managed to write ~2200 words today, some of which included the most emotional scenes out of Part III, so I'm calling it a day. It's still nowhere near done lmao, I'm sorry y'all.

I did, however, finish one scene, and it's not really that big of a spoiler, so I figured I would share it. It's finally some fluff/a soft moment between Y/N and Sanemi, but it takes place before they make up and make out.

Hope you guys enjoy!

CW: body insecurity/ scar insecurity and reassurance. light angst at the end.

Y/N watched her friends sprint into the shallow of the turquoise lake with a small bit of envy. She wanted, so very badly, to join them, but she’d miscalculated the coverage that her swimsuit afforded her, and to her horror, she’d realized that the mark Douma’d left on her would be on full display the moment she removed the oversized button-down she’d used as a cover-up.

“Y/N! C’mon!” Mitsuri entreated her as her head popped back up from under the surface of the water, her hair tinged a dark pink from the water.

Absentmindedly, her hand raised to the spot where Douma had soiled her and rubbed, the slight pain from her stimulation of the still-healing wound forcing her to remain in the present instead of back in that blasted, dark bedroom.

“I think I’ll work on my tan for now!” Y/N called back, plastering a wide, fake smile on her face to assuage any worry. Not that she needed to, because before Mitsuri could question her further, Obanai snuck up from beneath her and raised her out of the water on his shoulders, the pinkette laugh-screaming as she flailed about to keep herself upright.

A crunch of gravel next to her caused her to tense, because she knew that all of her other friends were accounted for, splashing about in the serene crystal of the lake.

All of them, except for him.

Sanemi said nothing to her as he drew up next to her, though he maintained a respectful distance. He too, watched their friends laugh and play in the water for a moment, his hands shoved in the pockets of his red swim trunks.

Y/N tried to be sneaky as she allowed her eyes to roam the sculpted plains of his exposed torso, marveling at the muscle that seemed to be carved from stone. Since the summer, he’d gained a bit of a tan, his skin now a lustrous nutty gold, that, against the white blonde of his hair, created an attractive contrast that made her mouth water.

God, he was beautiful; it pissed her off.

The tension between them was electric, as neither wanted to be the first to break the silence growing ever louder between them.

“No one will stare, y’know,” Sanemi caved first, though he did not tear his eyes away from where they were fixed resolutely on the horizon beyond the lake. “They all want you to feel comfortable, so they won’t look.”

Y/N was about to snippily ask him why he was butting in on her business, even though her irritation was because he’d read her mood so easily – too damn easily, for that matter. She tilted her head up, readying her venom, but before she could bite, the words died on her tongue.

Sanemi’s tan hadn’t been able to obscure the scars of varying lengths and thickness which crossed his chest, forearms, and half of his face; if anything, his sun-kissed skin only made the silvery, jagged slashes stand out.

As she’d looked up at her former friend, she was reminded that he knew exactly how she felt at that moment – had felt that insecurity, every day, since they were eleven and a drunk driver had slammed into his parent’s station wagon, killing everyone but him and Genya.

I don't care if you have scars! She'd told him, once. I've always thought you were...were...pretty!

She winced at the memory, but painful and intrusive as it was, she still couldn’t find it within her to throw his attempt at reassurance back in his face. Y/N’s heart might have been a lowly, misshapen, shriveled lump, but she still had one.

And besides, she wouldn’t lie to herself; his words had soothed some of her anxieties, damn him.

“Thanks,” she said softly, and she gave him a small, tentative half-smile. She hated the look of hope that flickered to life in his eyes at the sight.

She hated the guilt that sunk into her gut even more.

#demon slayer #sanemi shinazugawa #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #kny sanemi #kny fanfic #kny x reader #sanemi x reader #kny fic #demon slayer imagines #demon slayer fanfic #demon slayer smut #shinazugawa sanemi

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angel-eyes05 · 1 year

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bite the hand (chapter 3)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

pairing: spider-woman!oc x miguel o’hara

summary: lorena's whole world was taken away from her in the blink of an eye, after she accidentally broke a canon event. lucky for her though, she was able to find a portal watch in her dimension and used it to get out before she glitched out of existence. unfortunately though, running from dimension to dimension, she's been named as an anomaly by the spider society. now, she's constantly on the run from them, their leader in particular. when she eventually gets caught though, she's recruited onto a mission to catch another anomaly who might be from her past. to her dismay though, her partner on this mission is her very captor. will she be able to stop arguing with him for long enough to get the job done?

info: enemies to lovers, maybe a slow burn depending on chapter count, oc is 24 and miguel is 27, both oc and miguel are super sad lmao, they're also both super violent so, they also hate each other what a slay, in regards to my oc you can read her character sheet right here

warnings: there might be spoilers for atsv in this so watch the movie before reading this, cursing, blood description, violence and gore, suggestive at the end but i wouldnt count it as nsfw, fang stuff lol

word count: 2.3k

notes: this chapter took me SO LONG to write for no reason, but i was also super busy this past week so sorry for the absence. i wasn't even planning to write the last little bit but once it came to me i couldnt stop writing it lmao. again, if you see me use "you" instead of "she/her" just ignore it i probably missed it while proofreading and it's instinct lol.

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The forcefield handcuffs almost seemed like they were tightening themself onto Lorena’s fists every time she would wiggle around in them. Her hands had been pressed into fists when they were put on, so her nails were currently digging into her palms. She was alone in the office for now, Miguel had stepped out for a moment to talk to Jess about something. She had been scoping the area for some type of escape. Her hands were currently out of commission for the moment, and she didn’t want to try out her acid webs to break the field, afraid it won’t be strong enough and her hands will be flooded and burning in acid until Miguel eventually takes the cuffs off. The room was surrounded in windows, so she could possibly make her escape by jumping out of one of them. But she was most likely too high in the air to survive (for Miguel would probably bind her legs as well if not). Or maybe she could try to make a run for the door? No, that was just stupid. She seemed to be out of options.

Her train of thought was run off course when Miguel walked into the room, practically fuming. He sat down behind his desk, wiping a hand across his face. His drowsiness hadn’t been helping is annoyed attitude much. Neither was Lorena’s constant squirming in her seat, even if it was right in front of his face. He sat at his desk, flipping through his digital files of Earth-86’s Venom, the constant clacking of her metal chair against the floor invading into his ears.

“Would you stop that?” he finally asked. She stopped squirming, and slouched back in her chair. “So by your upbeat attitude about this, I can assume that I wasn’t your first choice for a mission partner, right?” she asked. “Wow, look at that, the anomaly knows how to read between the lines,” he replied sarcastically, not even looking up at her. “Would you stop calling me that? You know my name. I don’t even know yours.” That was a lie, she did know his name, but she wanted to hear it come from his mouth. “Why though? It’s what you are. An anomaly. And you don’t need to know my name. Just call me O’Hara,” he said, still not looking up at her. His last name was at least a start. It still pissed her off.

Being known as nothing more than “an anomaly” to him. To anyone at this place for that matter. It wasn’t like she chose for her world to collapse. After sitting in silence again, the only noise being the digital swipe of the pages in the files, Lorena cleared her throat. “So…do you feel like filling me in on the notes of the mission?” Silence. Then words. Just a simple, but stern “No.” Lorena rolled her head back behind the seat. “So when I mess up during the mission on accident because I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing, you won’t get mad and start yelling at me?” “You won’t mess up. You’ll learn the details when you need to know them,” he said.

Miguel found himself a little bewildered when he found Lorena’s foot up on top of the desk. “¿Qué mierda haces?” he asked. A smirk formed on Lorena’s face when she realized he was finally looking at her. “Dejaré de molestarte si me dices lo que está pasando,” she responded. He groaned. He shouldn’t be doing this. It was a really stupid move. But he knew he wasn’t going to be able to focus with Lorena bothering the whole time. So he got up, locked the door, and went behind her to uncuff her from the chair.

She had been close to him many times before this, but this was the first time she was able to take in his scent. It was a mixture of a lot of products at once at first. His hair gel and his aftershave were most prominent, but were quickly overpowered by the smell of his pungent cologne. He walks away almost as fast as he appeared. “Ven aquí,” he said, sitting down, allowing her to walk over. Lorena got up from her chair, her hands still tied behind her back but free from the seat. She hovered over him looking down at the files, trying to keep her eyes away from Eddie’s picture. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to a list of numbers on the file. “His current dimension location. Right now he’s on Earth-526,” he said, eyes still on the file. “So why don’t we just go get him now?” she asked. Miguel looked up from the folder with an annoyed face. “Do you happen to have a secret plan you’d like to share about how we would catch him once we get there?” he asked, rhetorically. She returned the look. “That’s what I thought.” She rolled her eyes as he looked back at the digital papers.

“We’ll head out tomorrow morning. I need to gather a plan of action, and you need to at least partially heal your rib,” he said, getting up and holding her by her arm again to escort her out to the medbay to finally receive medical attention. “All a sudden concerned for my well-being? Why the sudden change of heart, O’Hara?” she quipped. “I couldn’t give two shits about how hurt you are. I just don’t want you being weak to end up getting me killed for one reason or another,” he said, dragging her out of the room. “Oh, how sweet of you.”

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A bigger version of Lyla was in the medbay with Lorena, giving her a variety of futuristic treatments for her ribs. The one she was currently performing was a slew of shots into her side, that according to her would act as a cast on the bones. “Are you sure there isn’t another way to get you guys off my ass that doesn’t involve being around him?” Lorena asked to Lyla. “Trust me, if there was, I think Miguel would’ve let you know by now,” she responded. “How does anyone here deal with him?” she continued to ask, wincing from the needle entering her side. “Because most people here didn’t start out on his bad side. You got unlucky.” “Tell me about it.”

“Listen, once you’re on his bad side, it’s almost impossible to get off of it. So if I had any advice to give to you, just keep annoying the shit out of him. If he’s gonna be a dick to you, you should be one back,” Lyla said. Lorena chuckled. “Thanks, I guess.” “No problem, it’s what I’m here for.”

Once she finished with the final needle, Lyla went back to her smaller form. “Alright, that should do enough for now. Let me show you to your quarters.” Lorena stood up, barely feeling any pain in her side at this point. She followed Lyla out into the hallway, through the elevator, and into her room. It was a small dorm, a cot tucked into the corner of the room with a small blanket on top of it. A sink and a toilet was also included in the back corner. The only good part of the room was the view. The back wall was an enormous window, outlooking the rest of the city. The bright lights of Nueva York was enough to light up the entire room. “I’ll be back to get you up in the morning. For now, just try to recharge,” Lyla said before her avatar popped out of the air. Lorena took a deep sigh and looked around her temporary home for however long this mission would take.

She enjoyed looking outside the window to see the bustling night life going on below her. She could hear flying cars honking at each other, and see strobe lights blinking in distant night clubs. It all reminded her of her own home. She yearned for the days when she used to go out into the city with her friends and just be teenagers. No weird spider-powers, no dead uncle or boyfriend yet, nothing to hold her back. But, such was life. She just had a hard time accepting this is what it meant for her now. The thoughts ran through her mind as her eyes fluttered closed as she put her head to the pillow on the cot.

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Fuck, not again. A frequent nightmare that would return every couple of weeks. Lorena would be sitting down in a field of grass, Eddie’s head resting atop her lap while the rest of his body would be laying in the grass. She would stroke her fingers through his hair while he would plant kisses into her thighs. The daffodils blooming next to her legs. The leaves on the willow trees in the distance blowing in the wind. The sky would be an orangish-pink, cirrocumulus clouds floating through it. She would take in three deep breaths. Then the wind would pick up its speed, whipping her maroon hair across her face. Almost like it was supposed to be covering her eyes for a switch-out trick. Once she would be able to get her hair out of her face, the weight in her lap would suddenly change. It would feel heavier.

Then she would look down. Then she would see it.

Eddie’s severed head, with its crimson liquid seeping into Lorena’s pants.

In her dream, Lorena would be unable to move, causing her to be only able to sit there in horror until the head would roll off of her lap. Liquid would continue to pour out of it, but its color would change from its ruby red to a pitch black. Then it’s consistency would change into some sort of sticky goop, and begin creeping closer to her. Once her conscious would gift her back her movement, it would no longer be of use to her, as the goop would begin to trap her to the ground as soon as it touched her. Her struggling to break free would only cause her to become more entangled in it as it pulled her further down into the dirt. Then, the goop coming out of his head would transform itself slowly into a body. The same alien body that she killed that day. Once the massive body was complete, and the only thing left of Eddie was his head, the goop around Lorena would slowly start consuming her, wrapping up all of her. The last thing she would see as she desperately tried, but failed, to keep the substance from covering her face, was the material covering Eddie’s mouth, and crawling into that sinister, white, toothy, smile that would send shivers down her spine.

Then, pitch black.

Lorena shot up from the cot in a cold sweat, but resisted the scream itching at her throat from the fear of waking up anyone else who might be around her room, as it was still night. She wiped her face of its salt and patted around her cot to make sure this wasn’t a dream. She was caught off guard when her hands suddenly phased through the material. Was she dreaming inside her dream? This hadn’t happened to her before.

A cold, sharp, feeling suddenly rushed through her neck. She slowly turned her head to the left, to find a pair of fangs in her neck. They were his. His body stood behind her bed, shadowing over hers. This time with his fangs was different though. Instead of of venom seeping into her neck, she could feel blood being pulled out of it. Almost as if he was some kind of vampire, sucking on her neck for nutrients. Her hands shot into his hair, pulling down on strands for support as his teeth sank deeper into her neck. His strong hands wrapped around her hips and pulled her closer up closer to him. Butterflies filled her stomach and small sighs escaped her mouth as his sucking would get more intense and his fingers pressed into her skin. Lorena was unable to see his face, only a couple of strand of hair that would peek through her peripherals. She found herself almost addicted to the feeling his hands on her brought to her, this time moaning when his hands roamed from her hips to her breasts under her shirt.

But just as fast as his fangs went into her, they were soon ripped out, blood trickling down her neck. She was gently placed back to lay down, his hands leaving a lingering trace after he removed them from her body. She closed her eyes for a second, then opened them to find his face, upside down over hers. Her own blood dripped down from his chin onto her nose. He slowly lowered down closer to her face, until Lorena sped it up by grabbing his face and pulling his lips onto hers. His kiss was ferocious, hers equally passionate. She couldn’t tell if her kiss was filled more with lust or hate for him. His warm tongue slipped into her mouth, exploring it with its own will.

While they were making out though, Lorena could feel the light slowly slipping from her. Right, he took her blood for himself. As she struggled to keep consciousness, she put all of the energy she had into kissing him, as he groaned into her mouth when she bit down onto his lip. No, no, no, not now, not yet, she thought to herself as she continued to slip away, begging herself to stay alive for one more second to be able to taste more of him.

As the her soul finally left her body, the last thing she could sense was the taste of his spit, as his tongue slathered it over the inside of her cheeks.

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After she woke up from whatever this dream was, she could still feel the lingering butterflies swarming in her stomach as Lyla popped into her room to wake her up for the day and mission ahead.

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NEXT CHAPTER

a/n: i watched spiderverse for a 3rd time and miguel is still so fine idc

taglist: @the-ikran-man @jenniferdixon05207 @yuuuumii @elwyn7 @waniesss @lust-for-pan @natthernandez @pix-stuff @ang3lf4c3 @artfulthoughtswp

#miguel o'hara x oc #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #spiderverse oc #miguel o’hara #fanfiction #fanfic #fem!reader #into the spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderverse

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