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jarofstyles · 17 days ago

Text

Bite

Hello my friends! Here is a vamprry one shot. It’s a darker one but I hope you guys will like it. 🎃

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WC- 6.4k

Warnings- vampire h, blood play, he kinda kidnaps her tbh, dark h, soulmates, mask kink if you squint, oral (f receiving) smut, degrading, h is a vampire so their morals are not human-like you know

Her blood pressure was high. She was sure of it.

Going to a haunted house wasn’t her idea, nor was it her ideal for the weekend of actual Halloween, but her people pleasing ways had gotten her once again. The same with wearing a fucking dress, because they’d decided to go bar hopping afterwards. Not the brightest idea at all, but she wanted to stick it through.

It seemed to be going well enough until they got separated.

She had somewhat of an idea that someone was watching her. She just didn’t know how correct she was- or how much danger she was in. Harry's eyes narrowed as he watched her get separated from the group.

Fate had chosen his fun for the night.

He quickly disappeared into the shadows, his lip quirked under the mask. This was his favorite time of year. He knew these halls like the back of his hand, and he knew exactly where she'd end up. He followed her as she tried to navigate her way back, unaware she had no hope there was no real way back, his footsteps silent on the creaky floorboards. It was thrilling, the muffled screams from other rooms fading to let him hear her breathing, fast and panicked. Little heartbeat pounding away at her chest. She was so alive, and it thrilled him.

She didn’t have a clue.

The dim of the flickering lights cast eerie shadows on the peeling wallpaper as she hurried down the narrow, winding corridor, her heeled boots clicking nervously on the worn wooden floor. Her breath hitched in her throat as she heard a faint, raspy whisper carry through the heavy silence, the air thick with the scent of dust and fake fog.

“Why are you running, pretty girl?” The rasping voice had her turning around, only to be met with empty space. there was no one there. “What’s got you spooked?”

Her heart thundered as she clutched her chest, turning slightly as the voice seemed to move. Like it was circling her, almost. It was suddenly that the lights went out, making her freeze in fear.

What sort of haunted house was this? And could she get a refund?

Harry grinned wickedly as he watched her from the shadows. He had missed this. The thrill of it all soothing an itch he usually couldn’t scratch. Though his usual victims weren’t quite as pretty as her, he noted. They didn’t smell as good either. He ducked into a small, concealed alcove as she whirled around, her panicked breath misting in the sudden darkness.

She could hear the faint drip-drip-drip of water echoing through the darkness, and the distant sound of maniacal laughter from another room. But closer, much closer, she could swear she heard breathing. Slow, steady, and menacing. Her own breath caught in her throat as she tried to pinpoint where the sound was coming from, her eyes straining to pierce the inky blackness.

“Who’s there?” She whispered into the quiet. It dawned on her that there was no party following behind her. She didn’t hear the footsteps, she hadn’t realized she’d veered off course, but she was still in the haunt. This had to be part of it- right? “I- I’m sorry I got off the path. If you turn up the lights I’ll just go back to my friends.”

The breathing paused for a moment, and then it started up again, louder this time. It was definitely coming from right next to her. She could feel the presence of something, or someone, but she couldn't see a thing. Couldn’t feel any body heat. The only thing she could feel were the vibrations when she heard a low, chilling laughter that sent shivers down her spine. "You're lost..." The voice whispered menacingly in her ear. It was when she could feel the cool breath on her neck that everything in her panicked.

She jumped back, her heart racing as she stumbled backwards, tripping over her own feet in the process. She landed hard on the floor, her dress riding up to reveal her thighs. She heard the creaking of floorboards as whatever was there moved closer to her, its footsteps echoing in the darkness. "You shouldn't have come here... alone..." The voice hissed at her. “Don’t you know it’s dangerous?”

“I didn’t mean to! I got separated from my group. I didn’t mean to go off the path.” Her voice was weak and warbled as she felt the sting in her elbow from the fall. “Just let me out and I’ll be on my way.”

The figure loomed over her, its presence oppressive and menacing. "But where's the fun in that?" It growled. She could hear the rustling of fabric, and then a gloved hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to her feet. She struggled, her heels clicking against the floor as she tried to break free, but the grip was too strong. "You're not going anywhere."

He pulled her into the concealed alcove, her struggles turning into whimpers as he backed her into the wall. His gloved hands roamed her face, gripping her roughly as he grinned wickedly behind his mask. "You’re a pretty one aren’t you?” He chuckled. “Such a treat. Let’s play.” He reached out and caressed her cheek gently, a stark contrast to the other hand’s rough grip on her jaw as his thumb brushed over her bottom lip.

"Open your mouth." he commanded, his voice low and menacing. She hesitated, her eyes wide with fear- but he didn’t give. He tightened his grip on her jaw, his fingers pressing into her cheeks. "I said, open your mouth." he repeated, his voice leaving no room for back talk. Reluctantly, she parted her lips, her teeth chattering slightly. He grinned deviously and slowly slipped the glove off and his thumb into her mouth. "Suck. It’s for your own good.”

She hesitated again, but the menacing growl from behind the mask urged her on. She wrapped her lips around his cool thumb, sucking hesitantly at first, but growing bolder as he watched her with a dark, intense gaze. It wasn’t like she could see him, but there was no way she couldn’t feel his stare on him. The metallic taste was unfamiliar to her, but it was what would save her. His grin widened as he slid his thumb in and out of her mouth, mimicking a motion that made her blush furiously even in the darkness. "Lovely girl, finally listening to instruction." He praised, his voice hoarse. "Now, bite down. This is going to hurt, but it’ll feel good afterwards.”

The girl had no idea what he meant until she heard the mask slipping off his face and her head was tilted to the side. She barely had a second to think before she felt it. The sharp bite down on her throat, burning at the site as she let out a strangled scream. The man- or creature- let out a satisfied groan as he sucked at her throat, pulling what had to be blood from her. All her instincts told her to run, but she couldn’t. She was frozen.

He drank with deep pulls, his arm wrapping around her waist to hold her upright as colorful spots danced before her eyes, even in the dark. She felt lightheaded, her limbs growing heavy and sluggish. She could hear the pounding of her own heart, growing slower and softer with each passing second, the sounds of his sucking drowning it out.

The soft plush of pleasure started to hint over her, the pain fading into the fuzziness of warmth in her tummy and between her thighs. Just as darkness began to claim her vision, he withdrew, licking his lips as he admired the two puncture wounds on her neck. "You’ve got lovely blood.” He murmured. “So sweet. Best I’ve had all season.”

He leaned in close, his voice a soft whisper in her ear as he held her up. "I should have you for the full meal... but I have other plans for you." With that, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her deeper into the house, her limp body resting against his chest. She was tired, her mind fuzzy from the blood loss, but she let out a soft whimper as he squeezed her lightly to his body. “I usually finish my meals and let them run off, but I think you’re a bit too good to toss.”

Part of her questioned if she was awake right now as he carried her through because nothing made sense. When her eyes opened again, it was different. The house changed. No longer was it the decrepit source of the haunted house, but it was restored. Like it had shifted all in front of her eyes. She wasn’t sure what was real and what was fake right now, if this was even reality, but it didn’t make any sense. The cobwebs were gone. The smell was lavish, rich, like incense. The haul was lined with velvet curtained windows and hand painted oil art, none of the flashing lights or fake fog to be seen.

What the hell was this? And what was he?

He carried her into a grand bedroom, the four poster bed draped in black silk. It was nothing like her own and she wanted to fight him, ask him what the fuck was happening, but she had no energy to do it. He had taken too much from her.

The monster laid her down gently, smoothing her hair away from her face as he admired her pallid complexion. "You'll wake up tomorrow, thirsty and changed. But don’t worry, I’ll be here for you.” He leaned over her, his ungloved, chilled finger roaming over her cheek as he caressed her. "I’ll be the only one you crave.”

——

The sun streamed through the open curtains, casting a warm golden light over the room. The girl stirred on top of the duvet, her arms reaching out to stretch before she realized she wasn't in her own bed. Her body was stiff, a throb in her joints as she let out a little whimper at the feeling in her body. Everything felt heavy still. Slow. She sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes as she took in the opulent room- one she didn’t quite recognize at first. There wasn’t much time for her to go over who’s room it was, or why she was there though, because she felt a twinge in her neck as she tried to move her head. That's when she noticed the feeling. The thirst. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced, a burning, aching need that demanded to be quenched. There wasn’t any sort of suggestion about it, it was a need.

Her throat burned. It was a hollow aching in her stomach, the stinging of her throat, her hand reaching up to cover it as she flinched. Pulling it back she looked at the ring snugly fastened to her ring finger, a red gem with a gold band. It wasn’t one she had- or was it?

Her memory was hazy. She needed something, someone, but she didn’t know what it was.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the door creaked open and in strolled a man, one that seemed familiar in the way that unsettled her, a small glass of crimson liquid in hand. He was sans mask, his dark hair disheveled as he grinned at her. Bright white teeth gleamed at her as he stood in front of her, smile softening as he clicked his tongue. Something about his smile was off putting, but she couldn’t look away. "Ah, you’re up. Good. I was beginning to think I’d given you too much.” He held out the glass to her. “Drink."

The girl's eyes widened as she stared at the glass, her parched throat aching with desperation. She reached out, her hand shaking as she took the glass from him. The liquid inside was a deep, rich red, almost burgundy in color and didn’t look like something safe for human consumption as she swirled it to see it much thicker than anything she usually drank, but her body was acting on its own. She brought it to her lips, the cool glass feeling soothing against her dry skin. As she drank, she felt the liquid slide down her throat, the warmth a soothing kind instead of the pain, spreading through her body and quelling the burning ache.

She probably should have thought twice about taking it from the stranger, but she didn’t. All she cared about was getting rid of the pain, getting more of the liquid down her throat so it didn’t sting any longer. The whimper that left her lips was pathetic as he pulled the glass away, his hand reaching out to thumb the droplet that had fallen down her chin back up and into her mouth. There wasn’t hesitation as he pushed the digit in, her hand grabbing his wrist and sucking the remaining drop from his skin.

He let out a low hum, his free hand reaching out to gently tilt her head back, forcing her to keep his thumb inside her mouth. "You're so thirsty, aren't you?" The man murmured, his thumb moving slightly, pushing against her tongue. "Such a pretty little thing, and so desperate for something to quench your thirst."

The thumb was pulled from her tongue, swiping over her bottom lip as he towered over her. She had no idea what the hell it was, what was happening, but her body trusted him and craved more of whatever he’d just given her. “More.” She croaked, lightly digging her nails into his skin. “Please, I need more of it.”

“The newblood desperation isn’t usually this cute. I think I got quite lucky last night, don’t you think?” He chuckled darkly, his other hand reaching up to cup her cheek as he leaned in close. "You'll get more, but first... you have to earn it." His thumb pressed against her lips again, pushing them open as he spoke and tapped her bottom teeth. "I have a game for us to play. If you win, I'll give you all the blood you can drink." His voice was a seductive purr, his thumb sliding into her mouth once more.

“I’ll do it.” She whispered instantly. “Anything. I’ll play.” The girl didn’t even know his name, but she wanted to please him, she wanted more of the blood. It didn’t even click with her that it’s what she was drinking. All she knew was that she needed more and she was willing to do anything to get it.

"Excellent. That’s the spirit I like to see." He crooned. "Now, the game is simple. I'll ask you a question, and you have to answer truthfully. If you lie, or hesitate, the game is over and you don't get any more blood." He pulled his thumb out of her mouth, only to replace it with his other finger, gently rubbing against her tongue.

"First question...what's your name?" His eyes gleamed with amusement as he watched her, feeling the soft suckle she gave his digit. She didn’t seem to comprehend that he was truly talking to her, or she didn’t want to pull her mouth from his finger, but that simply wouldn’t do. "Come on, now. No need to be shy. You can speak around my finger, can't you?" He smiled, his voice firm. "Answer me." His thumb brushed against her bottom lip, encouraging her to part her lips and speak.

“Y/N.” She spoke, muffled around his finger. Her eyes were hazy and soft, body warming up from the blood settling in her system and the attentive stare of the man in front of her.

"Good. That wasn't so hard, was it?" He praised, slowly pulling his finger from her mouth as he spoke. He brought the digit to his lips, sucking the remnants of her saliva from it as he grinned at her. "Now, Y/N...do you know where you are? And how you got here?" His eyes were intent on her, watching every flicker of emotion that crossed her face. "Take your time. Think carefully."

She mourned the loss of the soothing she had from sucking, but she felt the hot zip right between her thighs as she watched him clean off his skin from her saliva. There was something about it that made her reach out for him, gently tangling her fingers in the fabric of his shirt as she peered up at him with wider eyes. It was a good question.

Where was she?

“I… I don’t know.” She finally realized she couldn’t quite place it. “Did we hook up or something after the bar?” It wouldn’t be the first time she did something stupid on a night out.

"No, we didn't hook up. That will come later.” It was inevitable. His perfect creation was made for him. The fates had been so kind to him last night, putting her in his path. “We ran into each other at the haunted house. You got lost. Got into some trouble." He gently unraveled her fingers from his shirt, lifting her hand to press a soft kiss to her knuckles. "You don't remember anything else, do you?" His expression was unreadable, but his voice was gentle, coaxing.

“No.” Haunted house? Her mind felt muddy. Like she was wading through quicksand as she tried to navigate the slow thoughts that seemed to be underwater in her brain. It sounded familiar. “I don’t like haunted houses. I probably didn’t want to go. I don’t… I can’t tell why I don’t remember.”

She had no recollection of him feeding off of her, of him finding her lost from her group and choosing her as his meal. She especially had no memory of him telling her why she was here.

"That's alright. You will, in time." He soothed, bringing her hand to rest over his heart. She didn’t notice it wasn’t beating. "For now, just focus on me. You're doing so well, Y/N. I'm very proud of you." His eyes glowed softly with affection as he spoke. "Here, have a little more. You deserve it." He bared his wrist to her once more, the vein pulsing enticingly. "It’s not the same as the other, but I think you’ll like it just the same. Drink."

Her eyes dilated, pupils swelling to consume the new color of warm gold of her irises as she stared at the offered wrist. Her breathing hitched, chest rising and falling rapidly as her hands trembled with anticipation. She reached out, fingers wrapping around his wrist as she brought it closer, inhaling deeply to draw in the intoxicating scent of his blood. A soft whimper escaped her as she leaned in, parting her lips to sink her teeth into his flesh.

It was all instinct. She didn’t understand why she was doing it, why she was so relieved to have her teeth in him. His finger pet at her hair as she breathed frantically through her nose, sucking the thick, sweet blood over her tongue with a soft moan. He tasted so good. It was going to be hard to stop.

He let her drink, his other hand cupping her cheek gently as he held her to him. His blood filled her, warming her from the inside out, making her feel alive in a way she never had been before. "That's it, my love. Drink. Take what you need." He whispered, his voice low and husky with desire. His thumb stroked her bottom lip, encouraging her to draw more deeply from his vein.

Her jaw ached as she continued to suckle at him, her lips sealed tightly around his wrist as her tongue fluttered against the wound she'd made, trying to draw more of it onto her tongue. She felt the smooth of his blood sliding down her throat, filling her belly, seeping into her very soul. Her fingers flexed against his wrist, nails digging into his skin as her body shivered.

He carefully unwound her arms from around his wrist, prying her fang-like teeth from his flesh with a low chuckle as she let out a mix of a growled whine from the loss. "Easy now, love. Not too much. I need to keep some strength for myself." He soothed, running his thumb along her bottom lip to catch a droplet of blood that had escaped. "Look at me, Y/N." He commanded softly, waiting until her glazed eyes focused on him before he continued.

"There you are." He murmured approvingly, his own eyes dark with unsated desire. He leaned down and licked the wound on his wrist clean, hissing at the sudden spike of pain before it faded. Pain and pleasure went hand in hand. "You're going to be the death of me, you know that?" He teased, his voice barely above a whisper. It would be true, if he could still die. He brought his clean wrist up to cup her chin, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip. "Such a greedy little thing."

She whimpered again, leaning into his touch as her eyes fluttered closed, savoring the feel of his skin against her lips. She could still taste his blood on her tongue, the metallic tang lingering in her mouth and making her want more. When she opened her eyes, they were glowing with a fierce hunger that made him chuckle darkly. "You're insatiable." He whispered, his own desire rising to match hers.

“I don’t….” She stood up, legs slightly wobbly as she faced him. “I don’t know what you did to me, I don’t know where I am, but I want you to stay.” Her hand grabbed his and wrapped his arm around her. The unprecedented need for him to be touching her, it felt just as desperate as the need for blood was. “Why am I feeling like this? I don’t know you.”

His other arm wrapped around her automatically, his large hand splayed across her lower back to support her. Dark eyes searched hers, seeing the genuine confusion in her gaze. He was a stranger to her, and yet her body craved his touch like it craved blood. He brought her flush against him, his other hand cupping her jaw. "Shh, it's alright." He soothed, his voice gentle.

"I'll explain everything, I promise. But for now, just...feel." He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, a soft, slow kiss that deepened into something more passionate. His hand on her back slid down to her bottom, squeezing possessively as his tongue slid against hers, sharing the taste of his own blood. He felt her relax against him, her body molding to his as her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. “Just know that you belong with me. To me. That’s what you need.”

Yes. This was what she needed. It made no logical sense, she knew, but logic was lost when it came to this. Ever since she had woken up she had been squirming, itching for something, and she realized now with his lips on hers and his hand grabbing at her ass, she knew this had been the missing piece.

“What’s your name?” She panted against his mouth, unsure if he had said it. Her mind was a mix of things and none of it logical.

He pulled back slightly, his breath ragged as he looked down at her. "Harry." He whispered, his thumb brushing across her cheek. "And you're Y/N." He handed her the reminder her gently, his other hand cupping her ass and pressing her against the growing hardness in his pants. "We're going to be together, Y/N. Forever." He promised, his voice dark with his promise. “I chose you last night.”

Why did that make her feel good?

She didn’t know him, and yet she was preening over the fact that he was promising forever with her. He could be an awful man. She knew nothing of him other than his blood tasted good somehow, he was one of the most attractive men she had ever seen, and she had gone home with him last night. None of it seemed to matter to her rationally. Maybe she’d lost her mind along the way; maybe he’d taken it from her. Regardless, she didn’t want to fight it. It felt wrong to fight it. “Forever?” She whispered, melting into him.

"Forever." He echoed, his voice a low growl that made her hot between her thighs. "I'm going to take care of you, Y/N. I'm going to give you everything you need. Teach you all you need to know. I created you, and I’ll take care of everything you need." He promised, his other hand sliding up her back and into her hair, tangling in the strands as he deepened their kiss.

He kissed her deeply, his tongue sweeping into her mouth as he held her close. His hand in her hair tightened slightly, tilting her head to the side to deepen the kiss further. His other hand never left her ass, squeezing it gently as he pressed her against his hard length. He broke the kiss for a moment, his breath coming in harsh gasps as he looked down at her. "I want to take care of you, Y/N."

She moaned softly, her eyes fluttering closed as she parted her lips to his expert kiss. Her fingers tightened in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as she pressed her hips against his, feeling his cock against her belly. When he broke the kiss, she whimpered in protest, her eyes slowly opening to meet his gaze. "Please..." she breathed, not even knowing what she was begging for, only that she needed more of him.

Harry's pride swelled at the sight of her, so needy and desperate for him. He loved it. He loved how much she craved him, how much she needed him. The choice to take her, to make her his mate was the correct one. It was in his bones, he knew it the moment he had heard the panicked pitter patter of her heart in the dilapidated facade of the hallway. He leaned down and captured her lips in another deep kiss, letting them linger. "Don’t fret. I'll give you everything you need, Y/N," He promised against her lips. "But first, I need you to sit on my lap."

The creature guided her with his hands on her hips, helping her straddle his lap. She wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively, her skirt riding up to reveal the softness of her thighs to the creature, against what was sure to be any sliver of self preservation. He groaned softly, his hands running over them appreciatively. He had so much to observe and worship with her- this was just the beginning for them. "Now, touch me." The vampire instructed, his voice low and commanding. "Anywhere you want." He watched as she hesitantly reached out, her hands exploring his chest through his shirt, feeling the hard muscles beneath.

He smiled encouragingly at her, his eyes darkening with desire as she grew bolder, her touch making him sigh as she ran her hands over his abs and chest. He could feel her touch through his shirt, her fingers trailing fire wherever they went. "More..." he encouraged, his voice a low growl. He wanted her touch on his bare skin. As if reading his mind, she began to unbutton his shirt, her fingers fumbling slightly.

He sat still, letting her undo his shirt, his breath hitching as she revealed his chest. He had always been proud of his physique, and the way she looked at him now, with wonder and admiration in her eyes only made him feel more smug about it. Once the shirt was open, she hesitated, looking up at him with a hint of uncertainty. As cute as it was… That wouldn’t do. He reached up and gently pushed the shirt off his shoulders, letting it fall to the side.

"Touch me."

She reached out, her shaky fingers brushing against his bare chest. He hissed at the touch, his abs tightening as she ran her hands over them, feeling the hard muscles. The girl leaned forward, her hair falling over her shoulder as she pressed her lips to his chest, kissing and licking his skin with her lips smearing against the cool skin, falling into the intimacy easier as he held onto her and pushed her dress further up. Harry growled softly, his hands gripping on her hips as he thrust his own upwards at the tongue lathing over the side of his throat, the movement pushing his erection against her core.

Her breathing hitched, her eyes fluttering closed as she continued to kiss and lick his skin, her hips grinding down to meet his thrusts. She was so engrossed in the sensations that she didn't notice his hands sliding up her thighs, bunching up her skirt until his fingers brushed against the hem of her underwear. He broke the silence of panting breaths, his voice hoarse. "S’my turn. I'm going to touch you now, Y/N."

She needed it. Her body was yelling at her to submit, to let him touch, because that’s what was necessary. It was a craving. Words echoed in her mind, his voice telling her ‘When you wake up, I’ll be all you crave’ or something like that, but she couldn’t focus on it when she felt his fingers brush her humid cunt.

Her response was a needy whimper, her head falling back to expose her neck as her hips canted forward, giving him better access. He hummed in approval, his fingers slowly sliding under the lace of her underwear to touch her bare flesh. She was so wet, so ready for him. He rubbed her slowly, his touch gentle, coaxing more needy noises from her. "That's it, love. I know what you need. Let me give it to you."

He slipped a finger inside her, her tight warmth clenching around him. The sensation of it made him groan, his head dipping down to nuzzle against her neck, inhaling her sweet scent as he began to move his finger in and out of her slick hole. Her breathing caught, her fingers clawing at his shoulders as she panted his name. "Harry."

"I know, my love. I know. It feels so good, doesn’t it?" The croon was slightly smug, but she didn’t care. It felt too good to have his finger inside of her, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of her neck.

"More." She begged, her body tensing as he curled his finger upward, finding that sweet spot inside her. He nipped at her neck, his fangs scraping against her skin, making her hips buck against his hand. It felt better than she ever remembered a simple finger inside of her feeling, but it didn’t make much sense. Nothing about this did.

"I'll give you more." His hand stilled for a moment, his fingers sliding down to gather more of her essence before he added another finger, filling her more for a few more thrusts. "But first, let me have a taste."

Y/N yelped in surprise as she was flipped, tossing her right on the mattress she had slept on. There was little time to prepare as he gripped her dress, tearing it in two so easily that she gaped at the strength of him. She knew the dress was slightly cheaper- she was on a budget, sue her!- but how could he do that?

The thought had to go on the back burner though, watching as he got to her knees between her thighs and spread them open for his viewing pleasure.

The man looked up at her, his eyes devious as he held her thighs open, preventing her from closing them. "Very pretty everywhere, aren’t you?” Leaning down, his tongue flicked out to taste her, dragging through her folds. She gasped, her back arching off the bed as the sensation of him tasting her rushed through her. "Mm.. and you taste so good here, too... Not just your blood. I did a good job in choosing, didn’t I pet?"

He didn’t give her a chance to answer, let alone think about what he was saying fully before he began to lick and suck at her, his tongue delving inside her to taste her nectar. Instead, she moaned, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her as she writhed with pleasure. He was relentless, his mouth working her clit with expert precision until she was panting and begging for something. What? She wasn’t sure.

"Please, Harry. I need..." Her brow furrowed as she looked down at him, unable to finish her sentence as his dark eyes looked up at her with his mouth expertly latched onto her, messily slick with her on his lips and chin.

"I know what you need." He snarled against her wet flesh, sending vibrations through her core. “Be quiet and let me give it to you.”

He sucked her into his mouth, his lips wrapping around her clit as he suckled. His tongue lashed against her, his hands gripping her thighs and spreading her wider as he buried his face deeper, licking and nipping at her delicate folds. His tongue plunged deep inside her, withdrawing and surging forward once more, making her keen as she tilted her hips up towards him, trying to write but unable to close her legs with how he held her open for him.

His hands tightened on her thighs as he devoured her, his fingers digging into her soft, warm flesh. She could feel his cool touch on every inch of her, his tongue plunging into her core again and again, his mouth suckling at her swollen pearl. She was helpless against the onslaught of pleasure, her hips bucking against his mouth as she neared the edge. "Harry, please. It's too much..."

He growled against her, the vibrations pushing her even closer to the edge. "No, it's not." The vampire mumbled, his voice muffled against her wet flesh. His arms wrapped around her thighs to hold her down as he continued to feast on her. Golden eyes lifted to meet hers, the possessive look in them making her feel hotter despite the cool touch of his hands. He meant every bit of this. There was no hint of casual about this. The man meant it when he said she was here forever. "You can take more, Y/N. You’ll take what I give you, because you belong to me now. I created you."

His words sent a flash of heat through her, his dominance washing over her like a tidal wave. He continued to eat her out, his tongue and mouth working her relentlessly.

It was simply too much.

The new blood in her veins, the unrelenting pleasure, the claim of ownership, all of it had her losing grip on whatever sense of reality she had left. Moans echoed through the room as she climaxed hard, her entire body shaking with the force of it. He didn't let up, continuing to lick and suck even as she came, prolonging her orgasm until she was a sobbing, shaking mess.

Her sobs turned into screams as another wave of pleasure hit her, his fingers joining his mouth as he pushed three inside her, continuing to pump in and out of her as he drank her release from her core. His tongue lashed against her as he drank her in, his fingers crooking up to find that spot inside her that made her see stars.

With a final lap at her pussy, he pulled back, his face glistening with her essence. His eyes locked onto her thigh, his hand trailing up to caress the tender skin. The creature needed more of her. To solidify their bond even more.

There was no words exchanged as he made the decision for them, spreading her out and finding the spot he wanted, where he could see the pulse still thrumming under her skin. He leaned down, his fangs sinking into her flesh as he drank from her, his hands gripping her thighs possessively. He growled against her, his voice muffled as he took deep pulls, her orgasm sweetened blood flowing into his mouth making him moan and his cock pulse inside of his trousers. She wasn’t a full blood like him. He’d be taking advantage of the human blood flowing through her veins every day for the rest of eternity.

His hands tightened on her thighs as he fed, his touch proprietorial and unyielding. She could feel the pull at her vein, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through her, heightening the sensitivity of her over stimulated body. She whimpered, her hands finding his hair and tangling in the silky strands as he drank from her. He didn’t want to pull off, knowing it made her feel good and knowing she tasted this good because of him, but he wanted to enjoy her in the softness of post orgasm and feed haze. Retracting his teeth, he sighed deeply, licking over the bleeding mark on her inner thigh. It was dangerously close to her cunt- something he liked.

A meal with a view.

The vampire had waited this long to take a mate. He deserved to enjoy it.

He lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers as he licked his lips clean. His face was a stark contrast of brutal and beautiful. Blood stained his swollen mouth and chin, a stark crimson against his pale skin. His eyes glinted with a feral light, his pupils dilated with satisfaction and desire. The creature’s dark hair was mussed from her hands running through it, making him look deliciously disheveled.

It was unsettling knowing something so dangerous could be so beautiful.

“We’re going to have a lot of fun together, little treasure.” He purred, giving her mound a kiss before licking over his bottom lip to chase the taste of her cunt and the blood he had just pulled. “My favorite creation yet. I can’t wait to play with you some more.” His nails dragged down the sensitive skin of her outer thighs, making her squirm in his grip. “I hope I don’t break you too soon.”

#jarofstyles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles writing #harry styles au #harry fanfic #harry styles fanfics #harry styles fic #harry smut #harry angst #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles one shots

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jwnzlvr · 5 months ago

Text

just take it

pairing : boxer!nishimura riki x reporter!fem reader

summary : you asks stupid questions, you get very interesting answers! or, riki gets sick of your shit and he definitely lets you know.

wc : 2.4k

warnings : SMUT (mdni), noncon/dubcon themes, p in v, pwp (very light plot tbh), unprotected sex (don’t do that folks!), light edging and overstim, choking, light slapping, squirting, fingering, (slight) degradation, not proofread!, DON’T LIKE, DON’T READ (i will be promptly blocking anyone who doesn’t like and does read.)

notes : everyone say thank you ash (@gyaruoriki go read her fics !) for the idea love ur big sexy brain mmmm !!! i wrote this at midnight while thinking abt this cute guy i saw at work who had just come out of the gym wearing bandages MHMM scrumptious. anyways, yall enjoy <3

seeing riki high off his adrenaline, eyes filled with pure determination and rage did something to you. you’d heard from other sources that riki was competitive and winning his matches was always something important for him. however, you never really understood just how strong this competitiveness was until you saw him in the ring.

sweat mixed with blood dripped down his face. the bruises on his torso were indicators of how well this round was going. not good at all. according to riki, this was all YOUR fault. every time that you were a part of the audience of a match always ended in him losing. it’s been loss after loss for him lately.

‘how important could that stupid article be for her to ruin my fucking matches?’ riki would ask himself. definitely not important enough to cause him yet another loss tonight. his opponent managed to catch him off guard, throwing a punch straight to his gut. the impact made riki fold over, his hand on his stomach and a bit of blood being coughed up.

“fuck this…” he mumbled as he tried to get back up but his body decided to give out on him completely. you watched in disappointment as riki fell to the floor of the ring. the referee counted to ten, officially making riki the loser of this round and the match.

white noise filled riki’s ears and only one thing was on his mind: you. you, the one who seems to be like bad luck to him. you, the one who can’t seem to shut the fuck up. you, who always asks the worst questions at the worst times. like now. because for some reason, you thought it’d be real smart to follow him into the locker room and ask an angry, upset riki “so, how do you feel about this being your fourth loss this season?”

the simple sound of your voice made him want to punch you in the face. or stick his dick into it. he wasn’t too sure yet.

riki stared at you in disbelief. he scoffed before turning to look at anything else but you. “are you serious right now?” he asked, his fatigue dripping into his voice. “well, it’s an actual question i need to make.” you retorted, notepad and pen in your lap.

“it’s an actual question? okay. i’m pissed off. i never lose but it seems ever since you started showing up here, you just ruined shit for me. what are you even writing about on that stupid fucking notepad? are your articles even important? what do you even write about?” his frustration was absolutely evident. you thought for a second before answering him. “illegal boxing. underground boxing. and no, it’s not my fault you’ve been losing. that’s very much your problem. i’m just doing my job. it’s really not my fault you can’t handle a simple loss.”

your words set something off inside of riki. something beyond anger, beyond wanting to rock your shit. something dark. you’d really fucked up by now.

‘fuck it.’ he thought to himself before he grabbed you by the arm. “what are you-“ “shut the fuck up.” he cut you off as he threw you to the floor, immediately caging you between him and the cement under you. you couldn’t even react from how fast everything had happened. one second you were on a chair and the other you were on the floor with riki’s breath against your lips.

being in this position made riki realize how attractive you really were. sure, he hated your guts but he admitted from the start that you were hot. he knew eventually he’d try to get you alone to fuck you but he didn’t think it would be right now. or that it’d be under these circumstances.

you shook under him, you didn’t know from what. fear? shock? one look into his eyes told you everything you needed to know of his intentions with you. they held an eerie darkness to them. it shook you to your core. riki didn’t give you more time to think but hiking up your skirt, revealing your plush thighs to him. he grinned at the sight of your stockings and your panties. how cute.

“fuck, you have no idea how long i’ve been wanting to do this to you… coming into my space just to ruin shit. just made me wanna fuck that stupid smile off your face. want me to do that? actually, who cares what you want. i think i deserve at least this as a reward for you ruining my winning streak.” he smirked as he ripped your stockings off of you along with your panties.

you whimpered at how aggressive he was being. your hands immediately tried to wrap around his forearms. it seemed you forgot riki was probably ten times stronger than you, and he showed this by promptly releasing your grip on him and using one hand to push both your arms above you.

“really? do you actually think you can get me off of you?” riki’s grin widened. you felt a shock of fear down your spine. he was having fun. he was about to do something disgusting, yet he was having fun.

you couldn’t even move around as he was on top of you, his weight holding you down. “what do you want?” your voice came out in a tremble. riki only looked you up and down before answering.

“revenge. and a little fun.”

revenge? for making him lose? this was a new level of petty for you. and the way he was getting his revenge was definitely not your favorite. riki used his hands to pry apart your thighs, immediately getting a negative response from you. you didn’t even get to say anything to him before he reached his hand back up and slapped you across the face.

“don’t fucking complain. just take it.”

his thigh was slotted in between yours, putting some pressure on you with it. you tried your best to not show an expression of pleasure to him. you couldn’t let him know you enjoyed the slight pressure on you. your clit twitched at the feeling of his shorts against you.

he slotted his hand in between where his thigh was and your heat. his fingers traced around for a bit before finding your clit. he smirked as he rolled it between his fingers. he had fun watching you try to not whine at the feeling of him playing around with you.

he gave a dark chuckle at the sight before him. “i know you’re enjoying this, baby. i can feel you getting wet.” and he was right, your pussy beginning to get damp. you refused to give into his actions thought. “fuck you!” you yelled, trying to move but only making it worse for yourself.

riki decided he had enough of your brattiness and pinched your clit as punishment. you yelped at the bit of pain followed by some pleasure. your pleasure was promptly taken away when riki gave another pinch, this time hard enough to make you almost tear up.

“fuck me? gladly.” he gave a fake smile as he took his thigh back from between you. his hand immediately made its way back to between your thighs. you didn’t even get to do or say anything before two of his long fingers slipped inside of you. you couldn’t bite back that moan, letting riki know that felt good to you.

no. no, it shouldn’t feel good. but with each curl of riki’s fingers you felt your defense falling some more. his thumb grazed over your clit occasionally, making you clench on his fingers. riki knew you were starting to enjoy it and it was evident on how his fingers started to thrust in and out of you with more force than you’ve felt.

he watched as you whined, trying to deny it felt good but your body couldn’t lie. you were gushing on him and you knew it. you felt your high getting close. your hips moved on his fingers automatically as you got closer and closer.

you could taste your orgasm coming, just a few more thrusts from riki and you’d come undone. unfortunately for you, riki decided to torture you a bit. he slipped his fingers out of you just as you were about to cum. you let out a pathetic whine at the loss of contact, riki only grinning before sticking his fingers in his mouth to taste you. he hummed at your taste.

“what’s wrong? i thought you didn’t want me to touch you?” his voice dripped of fake sympathy. now he was acting like he gave a damn what you wanted. you shook your head. your head was so hazy, you didn’t even know what you wanted anymore. all you knew is you needed to cum. no matter what.

you whined at his words. “i changed my mind…” you wanted to cry at how he edged you. “just let me cum, please.” you almost begged him. that was more than enough for riki. he finally properly lifted your skirt, getting a good look at you. he then pushed his shorts and boxers down, revealing his hard cock. precum dripped from it, making your pussy clench.

he saw as your hole clenched and grinned ever so bigger. he let his middle finger graze over your wet hole. “you like looking at my dick, baby? want it in you?” he teasingly asked. you could only nod at him. you needed him in you. riki sighed exaggeratedly at your reaction. “well, i guess i can’t leave you hanging… if you’re good for me, i’ll even cum in you. you want that?”

you felt yourself drool at the idea of being stuffed with cum. it was crazy how you went from wanting riki off of you to making him cum inside you. you felt insatiable. “yes, cum in me. want you all in me!” you cried.

he silently gave his cock a few strokes before sliding into you. your jaw dropped at the feeling of you being stretched on his dick. it was so thick with a good length, it felt perfect. he went slowly as to let you feel every inch of him. after what felt like an eternity, you felt his hips press against you.

he let out a low groan at how tight and warm you were. “god, this pussy feels so good. you like having my cock in you, hm?” he moaned at the feeling of you clenching around him. there’s his answer. you let out whimpers at the feeling of him being so deep. his tip was hitting straight into your spot, the slightest movement making you want to scream in pleasure.

his hips began to slowly thrust in and out of you. the drag of his cock in your walls made you see stars and you couldn’t help but grind on him. he felt satisfaction at seeing you be a hot mess for him. “yeah, you like that…” his thrusts gradually got a bit faster, a continuous fap fap fap being heard across the locker room.

“nghh riki…” you whined as his cock was digging into you. it was heaven on earth for you. riki finally let go of your arms after a while. you moved them to wrap around his neck, your hands tugging on his hair. a low groan escaped his throat at your actions. his now free hand made its way to your neck, wrapping around it and giving a small squeeze.

you gasped at his hand around your neck. “you’re such a good girl for me, ya know? can just fuck you whenever i want and how i like. so good…” he praised as his thrusts got harsher. and for the first time that night, he leaned in to give you a kiss. it was so messy, teeth clashing and tongues dancing but it was perfect.

his hand squeezed your throat a bit tighter, making you feel woozy. his other hand went to squeeze your left tit, satisfied at how soft it felt even when you still had your shirt and bra on. the lack of oxygen made you needier and more desperate to cum. riki knew this when you began to clench around him.

“fuck, gonna cum? cum whenever you want, i said i couldn’t leave you hanging.” he gave you a hazy smile. his brain was completely fogged up. he couldn’t formulate a thought other than fucking you. he was just as out of it as you.

you felt your pleasure from before building up, trying to give riki a warning. “cu- ‘m cumming!” your words sounded choked but he knew exactly what you were trying to say. he didn’t give you a verbal response. he only gave your throat the hardest squeeze he could without hurting you. “cum for me, baby.”

that was enough for you to release all over him, your release hitting his thighs. he kept fucking you as you came, watching in awe as you squirted all over him. he finally let go of your throat and let you catch your breath as you came down from your high.

“did i fuck you that good? such a dirty girl f’ me.” he groaned as he felt himself get close to his release. he ignored your cries of overstimulation as he kept fucking you. “since you were so good, you get my cum. are you happy, baby?” he asked.

you gave him an eager nod, trying to ignore how overstimulated you were for him. “so happy, want you to cum in me. please, riki!” you moaned loudly. that was enough for riki to start painting your walls white. his head was thrown back as he released into you. you enjoyed the feeling of riki cumming in you, moaning softly at the sensation. you clenched around him to try and milk him for everything he had.

you laid on the floor with riki flopping next to you, both of you guys’s chests heaving. you were trying to catch your breath but it felt almost impossible. riki finally turned to look at you.

“you make me lose again and i’ll only be meaner to you.” he warned.

you took it as a challenge to distract him in his next match.

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen hard hours #riki smut #riki x reader #enhypen x reader #don’t like don’t read!!#i will keep repeating myself idgaf what u have to say

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autisticgaypirates · 3 months ago

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gettin' frisky (NSFW!) (*´ω｀*)

writing this because i'm OVULATING 💜

you guys already know wtf is gonna go down rn

fem!afab!reader, established relationship

obviously nsfw, mdni!!!!!! nothing suuuper freaky but y'know.. you can't have smut without getting your freak on a little

includes zoro, sanji, and ace

zoro ˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

- not big on foreplay at all, like don't even bother wondering if he'll be a tease because he won't

- oh he loves being dominant..... oh he LOVES it

- always missionary or doggy style, he likes being on top and getting the whole view

- will go even harder if you call him sir or daddy

- tbh? he's kinda a sadist, but not in a seriously harmful or hurtful way

- i mean sadist in a wants-to-smack-your-ass-so-hard-it-leaves-a-handprint way

- even though he's not a very talkative person, he LOVES to talk you through it

- he'll degrade you if you're cool with it, but if you do as he says you'll get a lot of praise

- LOVESSS to finish inside you

- he's not good at the whole aftercare thing, so you might just need to remind him your kinda.. y'know.. dripping his children

you lay beneath him in a mating press with the sound of the creaking bed and deep, heavy breaths in the background. his calloused fingers interlink with yours, pushing your hands above your head to ensure that you have no power. "you little slut, is this what you wanted for so long?" he said deeply, ramming himself inside you even harder than before. his grip on your hands tightens. "huh? huh?? you can't be silent forever. this is my pussy, and you're my bitch, answer me." you let out a high-pitched moan and choke out your next words. "y-yes zoro! it's everything i wanted!" his grip loosens as he smirks, looking down at you like you're his prey. he softens his thrusts a bit, just so he doesn't bruise your cervix. "goooood girl," he coos. "and who's pussy is this?" "yours, sir." he picks up his pace again. "and who do you belong to?" your legs begin to shake. "y-you, sir! i'm yours sir!" he goes full force as your breath hitches, a hungry smile plastered on his face. he licks his lips at you as you make your pretty sounds. "you're doing so good, i'm so close, pretty girl." his jaw hangs open as he lets out soft whimpers that harmonize with your whines as you both finish at the same time. he slowly pulls out as he watches it all pour out of you. he smirks at the sight before looking at you and placing a lazy kiss on your lips. he flops down beside you, an unconscious smile on his face as his eyes begin to flutter shut. "um..." you say, tapping him on the shoulder. he sits up and sees you pointing at your mess. "a little help here?" you say with a laugh.

sanji ˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

- sanji doesn't fuck, he makes love

- even though he's all over women and seems incredibly perverted, he doesn't care for the idea of hooking up with a random woman

- LOVESS foreplay and taking his sweet time

- very much a switch tbh

- his favorite position is cowgirl, but when he's feeling more romantic and less frisky, he's big on missionary

- BIIIIIIIG mommy kink (when submissive) and praise kink

- he's either whispering sweet nothings in french or screaming your name two octaves higher than his normal voice, no in between

- when he's in control though, it's so intimate and genuine and he loves loving you

- he only cares about you, he doesn't care if he'll explode if he doesn't cum, he'll wait until you're ready too

- as much as he'd love to finish inside you, he's kinda afraid to, so he'll always make sure to pull out right after you're done

- will immediately clean you up and make you tea and tuck you into bed, you're his princess

both shirts were now off, your pants off and on the floor. with sanji above you, he slowly and passionately kisses you, one hand holding him up and the other undoing his belt. after getting his pants off, he hooks two fingers on the edge of your panties that you wear specially for him. he looks up at you with soft eyes. "may i?" he says gently. you nod in response as he pulls them down and off your leg. "même si la mer nous entoure, son scintillement n'est pas comparable à toi," he whispers, slowly spreading your legs open. he leaves gentle kisses along your soft thighs before reaching your womanhood. he kisses it deeply, just grazing over your clit, before dipping his tongue in and having a taste for himself. his refusal to break eye contact with you as he eats you out drives you crazy, and he knows it. when you ever so slightly begin to feel your high, he pulls away. "merci, belle," he tells you, aligning his shaft with you. he slowly pushes himself in, making both of you let out a groan of pleasure. he bites down on his lip hard as he grips the sheets beneath you. he begins to move slowly, looking into your eyes lovingly. you do the same back, letting out a quiet whimper with each thrust. he gently places a hand on your stomach, brushing it across your body and all your curves in admiration. his hand ends up on the side of your face, cupping it. he leans in close to your ear. "you are love. we are an art, mon amour." he plants a kiss on your temple before picking up his pace, going a little harder. with a consistent rhythm and floods of sweet nothings, sanji is finally starting to reach his climax. "i love you," he whispers before going full force on you. his eyes hardly ever leave yours, and if they do, they're admiring the sculpture in which your body was crafted into. "i love you," you whisper back, breathily. "i love you," you say a little louder. "i love you sanji, fuck, i love you!" you borderline yell your admiration for him as you come down from your high, sanji's pace settling. he pulls out and finishes on your stomach, truly believing you two created a masterpiece. "i love you. i'll be right back," sanji tells you before throwing a towel around his waist and leaving the room. you already know where he's going. he's grabbing a damp rag to clean you with, a cup of your favorite tea, and running you a hot bath with your favorite scented candle. this is what making love really means.

ace ˚✧₊⁎⁺˳✧༚

- i'm gonna be so honest, he's so unserious about literally everything

- like you'll whip your tits out and this man will go "WOWZA!"

- he very much likes when you give him head beforehand, it gets him hard, hot, and ready

- very much dominant, but that's just because he's so passionate and so excited that he just wants to get going

- he LOVESSS doggy style, he's very much an ass man (he loves your face equally though don't worry) and he loves to smack your ass

- he's not huge on the romantic aspect and very much himself even in the bedroom

- very very chatty, loves to hear the changes in your voice and REALLY loves when you can't even speak

- when you think he's giving his all, girl not even close you just got started

- he'll compliment you on EVERYTHING, idk he kinda has this thing where he just needs to talk to you

- will ALWAYS ask if you want him to cum in you or pull out, and if you don't answer, he pulls out and cums on your ass

- aftercare with ace is so fucking funny because he'll talk about it like a sports event

you were on your knees in front of him, his shaft now covered in your saliva. he brushes his hand down your hair. "good job baby," he coos. you look up as he smiles down at you. "i'm ready for ya," he says with a smile. you stand up to an immediate smack on the ass. "c'mon pretty girl, ass up for me, i can't wait much longer," he tells you eagerly. you crawl onto the bed, ass up as you rest on your elbows. another smack, this one harder than the other. you let out a small whimper. "what a pretty sight for me," ace says under his breath, squeezing your ass and placing the tip along your slit. "a pretty pussy and nice, big ass on a beautiful girl." you suddenly feel his length push inside you, causing you to let out a yelp. he starts rocking back and forth, slow but hard. you feel his hands grip your hips to pull you up higher. each thrust makes you let out a noise of delight. "pussy is so good babe, and it's all for me?" ace asks you sweetly. "yes, yes all for you," you mutter, somehow already choking on your own words. he gives your ass another hard smack. "thank god," he mumbles before going harder into you. the wooden bed beneath the two of you is loud, and it almost feels unstable. "oh god... ah yeah," ace says, going even faster than he did before. "ohhh fuck yeah, you love it when i fuck you hard like this, huh?" "i- i fuck- i fucking love it!" "yeah? you love me, too?" "yes, yes, i- i love you, ace!" he keeps his speed but rams into your even harder. you can't speak at this point. you're yelling his name and letting out choked moans. "i love you so fucking much.." ace says with gritted teeth. "i love you, i love this pussy, i love this ass, i- gah, fuck! in or out?" "i-in!" the two of you are yelling at each other at this point. "oh god, oh god i'm cumming, mm fuck i'm cumming babe!" ace releases everything he has inside you, and the feeling of his length twitch right on your g-spot is enough to bring you to your climax as well. he slowly pulls out with a hiss, watching it all pour out of you. "damn... we did good," he says with a laugh. he grabs the towel nearby and cleans you up to the best of his ability. when he's done, you lower your hips onto the bed and flop down on your back as he crawls over to lay next to you. "have you like..." ace begins to ask. "... been doing squats lately? i always knew you had a great ass but-" "ugh, ace really?" you say with a laugh. "it's true! and y'know what, i found out that i really like when you tell me you love me during all that." you laugh and place a kiss on his forehead. "noted."

ok so this was insane lowkey and i did NOT expect to write that much for sanji but shit happens when you have a uterus

#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece fanfiction #zoro #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x reader #portgas d ace #portgas d ace x reader

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signed-loni · 2 years ago

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HELLO LOVELY PEOPLE. I was in class today, and yk, i just couldn’t help but be bored and thought to myself “hey, what about head canons for sal and brainiac!y/n?” Good idea if i do say so myself! I also thought about whether it should be todds sister, but i changed my mind since idk i just, idk. SOOOO HERES THATT and enjoy! :)

(Lets just appreciate this amazing work. Truly, props to the artist this is so, yes.) (@paint_soda on ig!)

How it happened HCs

Tbh, the school didn’t see this coming. A brainiac with a person like sal? No one saw it coming, not even Larry, and Larry knows everything about his best friend. From his measurements (not like that) to his least favorite kind of pasta

and you didn’t really see it coming either! You honestly just fell really hard one day because sal got one of the hardest questions you’ve come upon, right, before you

You gotta say, you’re a sucker for the smart ones

While you’ve never seen his face, you have seen him around school with his small group of friends

You have your little clique, but recently, they’ve been shit talking you.

Saying things about you, calling you names and starting rumors, things like slut and whore being tossed around since one of your friends ex boyfriend had a crush on you

Youre not the kind of stereotypical nerd. Oh no, you arent.

You are most definitely not

Sal fell for you, mostly because of YOUR brains to

He likes that in a person. Someone who’s pretty, and smart!? He’s on the floor.

General relationship HCs

You don’t know how to explain it, well you do, but you always say it in the same way

Sal is the best boyfriend ever.

Sal knows everything thing about you, and you know everything about him

He knows your least favorite way to solve a problem for goodness sake

He knows the way you play with your fingers when your focusing on finding the solution to a question

He knows how you sit when you’re uncomfortable

He knows everything

You know almost the same amount he knows about you, about him

You know how he hold onto his pigtails when he’s afraid, you know how insecure he is about his face

He’s glad he’s dating someone like you. Its not like he’s dumb or anything, but he knows you definitely helped Larry, and he knows that he helped you get out of your toxic friend group.

You don’t talk about it much, but he knows

He’s seen it

He’s seen them look at you and him holding hands in the hallways, he’s seen them whisper to each other while looking at you, laughing to themselves.

It makes him mad

You always tell him your a big girl and can handle it, but he knows it kills you to see your once friends, now hate you because of one silly thing

If having rizz was a crime, you would be arrested

Cause MAN can you make sal FLUSTERED

The compliments, the PDA, the PINKY HOLDING. Sal has stopped working once you hold his pinky for the first time

He doesn’t mind holding hands, but you know he prefers pinkies.

Its amazing how you don’t react when seeing his face to him. Larry didn’t react, but he barely got to see. You got to see for a full minute. And sal thought you hated him because of how much you didnt react

Which sounds silly, but to him, it wasnt

He thought you hated his face so much, you decided it was to horrid to even comment on

But all those thoughts were cleared when you kissed him

Kissed his lips

Kissed his scars

Kissed him

He knew right then and there, that you were the one for him. His and his only

#sally face #sal fisher x reader #sally face x reader #sal fisher #sally face hcs #hcs #relationship #relationship hcs #sal fisher hcs

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lemoniiiiiii · 1 month ago

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bed chem (short n' sweet)

(colin zabel x fem!reader) your internship just got more interesting...

warnings / content: not really proofread, age gap (reader is 20-22, colin's like 32-34), swearing, perv!reader tbh, NSFW - masturbation (toys) + fingering (fem receiving), p in v

(this fic is a part of my short n' sweet collection!) a/n: every time i listen to this song i think of colin like he's just so... AHHHHHHHHHH i've literally had this idea since the album came out! tried to incorporate as many lyrics as i could idk how well i did tho!

the easttown police department wasn’t exactly a hub of thrilling action. that was probably a good thing for the town, but for you, it made the days of your internship drag endlessly. stuck behind a desk, processing minor domestic disputes and petty incidents, the hours stretched out. you couldn’t help but wish that, just once, you’d be allowed to join an officer out in the field. to witness a slice of the town's life up close instead of through dry reports. but no, you were stuck in the back office, relying on your imagination to fill in the blanks while you typed up incident after incident.

on this particular afternoon, you were making your way down the hallway with a precariously high stack of files balanced in your arms. you could feel the papers shift, hear the quiet rustle of their movement as they started to slide. panic gripped you briefly—this was going to be embarrassing. you were already imagining the cascade of documents scattering across the floor, how you’d have to drop to your knees and scramble to gather them up, probably while everyone watched. just as the stack tilted dangerously to one side, a hand swooped in, catching the top section before it could tumble.

"here, lemme help you with that," a man said, accompanied by a friendly smile. a smile too relaxed, too bright for this quiet, indifferent corner of pennsylvania.

grateful, you gestured toward your desk a few feet away. "thanks," you mumbled, trying not to sound too embarrassed as you placed the files down with a sigh of relief. he set the rescued papers down beside yours, glancing at you with a foreign look. like he actually saw you as a person instead of the intern that does the shit no one else wants to do.

"you doin' okay?" he asked. his concern seemed genuine, which again, took you a second to process.

"yeah! yeah, i'm good!" you responded, a little too enthusiastically perhaps, as you straightened the files in a futile effort to regain your composure. "thank you."

the man chuckled softly. "you know, sometimes it’s easier just to take the two trips." he shot you a wink that made your pulse quicken. "speakin' from experience," he added, leaning a little closer as if sharing a secret. "when i was in your shoes, i had to learn the hard way."

the chief called him over and, after a charismatic "duty calls" farewell, he walked off. you sat down at your desk, face hurting from the corners of your mouth being lifted for so long, but you couldn't bring them down.

you buried your face into your arms, letting your forehead rest against the cool surface of the desk for a few minutes. if anyone saw the flush creeping up your cheeks, you’d never hear the end of it. you took a deep breath, trying to shake off the feeling, willing yourself to get back to work. but the more you tried to focus, the more impossible it became.

why? because guess whose office was in clear view of your desk? mare's. and guess who was now in mare's office quite adorably rehearsing a conversation with himself?

yeah... you were done for.

the man's lips moved slightly as if he was practicing lines for a play, his brow furrowed in concentration, and every so often, he’d run a hand through his neatly cropped hair, or shake his head in disapproval, looking entirely too charming for his own good.

you needed to find out who he was right away. what was he there to talk to mare about? was he a detective? why couldn't you stop thinking about him pinning you against a wall?

unable to live with the mystery you pushed yourself up from your chair and marched over to the nearest officer, your pulse still racing. "hey—uh, hello." you cleared your throat, trying to sound casual despite the warmth still lingering in your cheeks. "who’s the cute guy in mare’s office? you know, uh.."

wide brown eyes, chiseled jawline..

"navy jacket- big briefcase."

the officer looked up, raising an eyebrow at your blunt description before glancing toward the office. "county guy chief brought in to help with the katie bailey case," he replied nonchalantly. "last name's zabel if i remember right."

you nodded, pretending like that was enough to satisfy your curiosity, but then another officer nearby chimed in with a smirk. "that’s him? poor guy’s gonna be in for it."

they quickly devolved into their own conversation, talking shop and completely forgetting you were even standing there. under normal circumstances, their dismissal might’ve bugged you, but you had bigger priorities now.

back at your desk, you grabbed your phone and opened up a browser, your fingers flying across the screen. within moments, you’d found him. detective colin zabel of delaware county. recently praised for solving a cold case involving a missing 10-year-old girl—a feat that had earned him respect in the force and beyond.

you couldn’t help but grin. of course he was the hero detective. it made perfect sense. but now that you knew who he was, it didn’t make the butterflies in your stomach any easier to ignore.

when mare had finally arrived, you watched the awkward interaction between the two of them. colin outstretched his hand only for her to disregard his formalities. you saw it coming, but it didn't make it any less painful to observe.

you waited until she had left (which wasn't very long) to discreetly travel over to the office. the door was open so you knocked on the frame.

"it's not personal. she's got a lot going on" you said with an understanding smile.

at the sound of your voice, colin turned around, giving a deflated chuckle towards your remark. "you er- saw that whole thing?"

"my desk is right there" you said, pointing, the two stacks of files barely touched. "sorry i kinda.. visually eavesdropped"

"no worries-" colin briefly smiled at your humorous confession then looked away. "uhhhhhh- did you need somethin'?"

"just wanted to introduce myself" you said, extending your hand out. "i'm y/n"

when he firmly took yours in his, your eyes couldn't help but flicker down and notice the veins that decorated them. a thought crossed your mind about where they might show up on other parts of his body.

"that's a pretty name"

you looked up from the grip your two hands were intertwined in, colin's attentive dark eyes on you.

"thank you.." you said softly, pulling away. shit, why were you out of breath? "uhm- i read about that... that case you solved? amazing work"

"oh- that was- i'm not-" he scratched the back of his head, trying to find words to minimize the accomplishment. you didn't know what was more attractive—hearing him stumble over his words or his humility. "we brought her home you know? that's what matters"

you nodded earnestly in response. "100%... well let me know if you need anythin'. i know people here can be a bit closed off but it's not all that bad."

"yeah thanks... nice to know i got a friend already" he smiled.

a friend... for now.

seeing as he was always in the back of your mind, and you couldn't care less about filling out reports, daydreaming about colin became your favorite past time. and every smile, every corny joke he greeted you with only fueled your crush.

it wasn't long before you noticed he had his eyes on mare, but the way he stared at you while you spoke about your criminology major... crossing his built arms, leaning forward on his desk to show you he was really listening. the way he'd routinely check on you and stop by your desk to chat....

for god's sake he started to get you coffee every morning.

there had to be something there... right? something more between you than mere camaraderie.

you definitely thought so. and thought about it often.. in bed.

eyes closed, you pictured colin's body hovering over yours. you could discern his toned figure from the form fitted button-ups he wore.. he'd have absolutely no problem picking you up and turning you over, manhandling you... though he probably wouldn't. he's too sweet for that. so sweet... and yet no ring? colin seemed like the type of man who should've had a wife and 2 kids by now...

maybe you could be the one to give that to him.

not now of course.

one day though.

still thinking of him you reached down into your panties, playing with your delicate folds in the caring manner you imagined him to have.

"so beautiful" he'd whisper, pumping two slick digits in and out of you at a sensual pace.

gasping moans escaped from your mouth as your fingers moved faster, the squelching sound of your fluids filling the room.

"that's it... god, i love how y'sound..."

belt unbuckled, he'd pull down his pants and boxers in one swift motion revealing his hard cock ready to drive into you. from underneath your bed you grab your dildo—oversized and veiny as colin would be and removed your now-soaked underwear.

he'd smile against your lips as he slotted himself between your legs, your body accommodating as he entered. after he'd ask (quite endearningly) if you're okay, you'd quickly nod, giving him permission to continue.

you try to imagine the expression of lust on his face... the sound of his deep groans in your ear as you fucked yourself gently, attempting to emulate your bodies rocking together in synced movement, the riveting sensation of the veins against your walls sending shockwaves through your body.

"fuck... oh my god" you panted, feeling the heat build up in your core. you were close.

"let go, i've got you... taking me like this, you're doing so well... makin' me feel so good..."

you increase the pace at which you pummel the dildo into your quivering cunt, eyes rolling back as you reach your climax, your body left trembling.

with colin, your sure you'd probably both arrive at the same time.

but for now you just had to live with unsatisfaction of not feeling his warm release coating your insides.

the next morning the chief had called you into his office.

a grin spread on your face as the he detailed the new program the department was implementing, how you'd finally be able to shadow an officer like you'd hoped when you first applied for the internship.

"any officer you have a preference to be paired with?"

you turned your head and caught colin's gaze through the office window. he was deep in conversation with mare, but when he noticed you, he gave a small wave. you smiled back, feeling a slight flutter.

"yeah, i’ve got someone in mind."

extra note: part two coming (hopefully soon!) it'll be based off the song "busy woman"!

tags (ask to be added or removed anytime!): @fear-is-truth @juliamaximoff @jazz-berry @violetsghosts @quickreider @tiffysdeath @honeymoon8

#honestly writing this was kinda funny i love making reader a little unhinged #this has been a wip for like a month and a half #this is a very self serving write #colin zabel #mare of easttown #colin zabel smut #colin zabel x reader #evan peters #evan peters smut #evan peters fandom #evan peters x reader #evan peters fanfic #lem's short n' sweet collection

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bandgie · 7 months ago

Note

question, what would skz do to make you squeal? what where when how, go all out~

chan!

likes hearing how happy he makes you! doesn't always have to be sexual. maybe he buys you something you've always wanted and you do a little happy squeak omfg makes his heart explode! but sexually? he likes hearing it when he drives his cock real deep in you. feeling your walls twitch and squeeze onto him when his tip is pushing past your cervix. you have to push on his tummy because he's just sooooo deeeepp but he likes hearing you squeak! he can see your swollen lips trying to form words but ugh! all you can do is mewl and squeal :(

minho!

grabs your butt outta no where to hear you chirp. sometimes it's in the comfort of your own home but most of the time it's in public. all you do is give him the 'did u just really do that here?' look and he's just smirking at back you like 'fuck yeah I did' in the bedroom I think it's pretty similar! but he's a lot more rough. his soft hand feels not-so-soft on your ass when he smacks it from behind. the force makes you lurch forward, gripping the pillow under you to muffle your squeals. and sometimes!! if he's eating you out from behind, he'll spread your cheeks to lick up your ass and watch your feet kick all cute

changbin!

anything! bin would do anything to hear you make little happy sounds. like chan, it just makes his heart melt and he's got that cute little smile when you're just so happy that you squeal but by far, eating you out while you make those cute noises are the best. there's just something about being buried between your legs with your fingers in his curls while you mewl and squeal that's just beautiful. honestly, changbin would be the one squealing the most (in and out of the bedroom) so he makes those sounds with you in your cunt tbh

hyunjin!

my lover boy! his fav is when he makes something for you or maybe he's just showing you his latest work in progress and you clap your hands and squeal cuz he's just so talented. really gives him motivation. not only are you his motivation but his muse. he loves painting your body in different ways: clothed, nude, standing, sitting, with your legs open. I've written before how hyunjin loves painting your pussy and I stand by that!! it's only natural that you squeal from embarrassment from the poses he puts you in, but he has a vision! he likes to paint the flush on your cheeks and the pinkness of your pussy, ugh defo fucks it when he's done BUT the whole process of drawing you while you whine about how shy you are is the best

han!

him making you squeal? it should be the other way around but I do think he likes hearing you make those cute little noises when he makes them too! it happens when you're both super desperate to fuck, like maybe you've been teasing each other all day or he's been on tour for a while and when you two get together it's just bunnies fucking BUTBUTBUTBUT let me say just say...sex pills. no idea the actual word for it but it's those pills/foods that get you super horny and makes you all sensitive. those are hannie's fav when ya'll are fucking. everything is wetter, hotter, softer, just so much more. han always fucks you good but with those pills? it's like you're constantly creaming on his cock with every thrust of his hips. at some point, neither of you can form proper words and you just end up whining and squealing into each other's mouths.

felix!

there's just something about fingering you while being able to watch your face contort into pleasure that does it for felix. his fingers aren't super long, but it's all about the motion of the ocean. he's really good at getting you to cum on his digits really fast and keep going. his wrist is drenched with your cum and your pussy keeps leaking that white cream, but he shows no signs of stopping. steady pumping into you in a way that makes you raise your heels off the floor and bury yourself deeper into the couch. he's kissing you, obvi. lixie can't let just his fingers get all the attention, but it is difficult to properly suck on your tongue since you keep moaning and squealing.

seungmin!

I am on my dom!seungmin agenda because I just know he likes hearing you squeak and squeal when he's fucking you real hard. kinnddd of like chan in that he buries himself in you, but unlike chan in that seungmin will keep thrusting into you. it feels like you can hardly catch your breath with how hard and deep he's pounding into you, but you like how dizzy it makes you feel. flat on your stomach while he drives his cock in and out of your swollen pussy to a point that you can't moan and you just squeal like you're out of breath. mhm, he likes that. esp when he flips you around and surprises you with cleaning his cock from your cum.... yeah

jeongin!

give this man some head! throat fucking you is the absolute best (and his favorite) way to get you to squeal! on your back with your head hanging off the bed, on your knees, 69ing, he doesn't care! innie can't really hear you squealing when you're too busy choking on his dick, but he can hear you gag, the wet noises your mouth makes, the sound of your throat when his tip touches the back. those are all good yes but it's when you pull away from his cock to catch your breath that makes him groan. hearing you pant, whimper, and moan from his cock like he's fucking your pussy instead is heaven to this man. will guide your pretty mouth back to his cock by grabbing the back of your head. tapping his tip on your red lips to watch you loll your tongue out and lick it. and when he pushes past your mouth? hearing that squeal from him burying his cock as deep as your throat will let him makes your teary eyes worth it

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guiltyasdave · 8 months ago

Text

i can see the end as it begins

chapter 1 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You meet your father’s new friend for the first time, but he’s a lot different than you expected.

word count: ~5k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad isn’t a nice person), able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, semi-public sex, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, spanking, pet names, let me know if i missed anything 🫶🏻

a/n: my favorite person on this app @joelscurls planted the idea of dbf!dave in both our heads and after many many feral dms, porn gifs, plotting and just generally freaking out, we have finally managed to put the first chapter together :) we’re currently planning with 4 chapters in total that we’re gonna take turns posting, so go follow jess if you don’t already (criminal behavior tbh)! i’m beyond excited to be able to do this with someone whose writing i adore sooo much, we’re both beyond excited about this story, and we hope that you enjoy it 🫶🏻

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics!

“I want a divorce.”

It’s been almost a year since Carol spoke those words into the tense silence of their dining room and they still echo in Dave’s mind as if it happened yesterday.

He doesn’t mourn the marriage, doesn’t miss Carol, not in the way he probably should. But he mourns the life that he had, the perfect suburban family, the stability. A little boring maybe, but safe, calming. Predictable.

And he misses his girls. He misses the sound of small feet on the hardwood-floor greeting him as soon as he opened the front door, giggly exclamations of “Daddy’s home!” and tiny hands grabbing at him, begging to be picked up. Now he opens the door to an empty, silent apartment. He has them every second weekend, which he rationally knows makes the most sense with his often irregular working hours, but it’s simply not enough. It’s like time is constantly running through his fingers and he just can’t make it stop, can’t bring his life back under control.

He’s doing what he can to keep himself busy, anything to keep his mind occupied and his thoughts from spiraling into that pit of loneliness that he’s found himself in. He started reconnecting with friends, going out with his colleagues and contacting people from his army days that he hasn’t spoken to in years, trying to build a social life outside of his family and the neighbors that he no longer lives next to.

It’s tedious, making him realize that he really doesn’t like people all that much, but it’s better than spending his evenings by himself and wondering where things went so awfully wrong.

He spends a lot of time with Jim, one of the guys that trained with him and that he always got along with rather well. Jim was delighted when Dave called, promptly inviting him to join him at golf the next day, which somehow turned into a weekly event on Dave’s schedule. It’s nice enough, giving him some sense of routine and he finds that he’s rather good at it. Jim runs his own company by now, the thing that he invests all of his time in, which got him a lot of money, but also a divorce.

It’s all he talks about, too, but it’s fine with Dave, not being forced to contribute that much to the conversation – because really, there’s not much worth mentioning happening in his life anyway – and he’s content to just nod along and hum in agreement most of the time.

Jim has a daughter too, a lot older than Dave’s though, already out of the house, attending law school. He can tell that Jim is proud when he talks about her, but it always seems to be connected to achievements, an underlying pressure to their relationship that leaves Dave a little uneasy and he silently vows to himself to never apply any sort of conditions to his love for his daughters.

But he's never met the young woman and he probably never will, so he doesn’t dwell on it, because what does it matter to him, really?

You huff a sigh as the familiar sight of the country club that your father loves to frequent comes into view and hand the Uber driver a tip before sliding out of the car.

You had thought you’d be getting a night out with your Dad, just the two of you, a rare occurrence. Not that you had been particularly looking forward to being grilled about law school, your grades, networking and internship opportunities, but at least he would be listening to you, paying attention. Joking that he was making sure that the money he put into your education was well invested, a joke that felt less funny every time you were reminded just how financially dependent you were on your father.

If the topic of conversation wasn’t school, it was what kind of acquaintances you’ve made, if maybe you’d met a guy with good connections, someone who could introduce you to the right people. Cautionary warnings not to get involved with the wrong sort, not to get on the wrong track.

Just once, you would like to talk about if you were enjoying school, what living on your own was like, how you got along with your roommate, the fun times you had with your girlfriends, anything about your life that wasn’t somehow connected to success or keeping up appearances. But your relationship wasn’t like that. He didn’t care about these sorts of things, he never had.

You continuously swallowed down the heavy feeling of envy in your stomach when your friends talked about their parents, painting a picture of unconditional love and support that was foreign to you, telling yourself that everything was fine the way it was.

“I invited Dave to join us tomorrow,” he then told you yesterday morning, offhandedly, sipping his coffee and his eyes already glued to his phone. You nodded silently, forcing your lips into something that resembled a smile. He had mentioned someone named Dave before, an old friend from his army days that he had recently reconnected with, if you remembered correctly. It didn’t matter, really, your father’s countless acquaintances blurred into a mix of vaguely familiar faces in your head anyway. If you had mixed feelings about the evening plans before, this new development made it clear that you wouldn’t partake in the conversation much, just smile politely, sit pretty and let the grown ups talk.

Steeling yourself, you walk in, your heels clicking against the floor. After spotting your dad almost immediately and waving in his direction, you make a beeline for the bar. He was sitting alone, you think, furrowing your brow in thought. You’re running a little late yourself, maybe that Dave guy couldn’t make it? You don’t hate the idea of that.

Dave had been reluctant to come out tonight, couldn’t help the feeling that he was intruding on his friend’s father-daughter time, something that he was desperate to have more of, but Jim had insisted.

“Lots of women you could meet there!”

He had scoffed under his breath, not able to picture himself meeting someone new, going through the motions of getting to know them, opening up, adjusting his routine to someone else’s again. He could much less picture himself meeting a woman he’d be interested in at a fucking country club of all places. Eventually, the thought of another evening in his silent and empty apartment with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company made him accept anyway.

He’s drumming his fingers against the polished wooden bar, waiting to pick up the second round of beers for Jim and himself, when someone slides up to the counter beside him. He glances over, eyes focusing in on the woman who is studying the drinks menu.

He feels an inexplicable pull towards her, couldn’t look away again even if he tried. She’s beautiful, he thinks as he takes in her features in the soft warm light, lingering on the shape of her lips, before his gaze trails down her body, over the short black dress that’s clinging to her in the most enticing way. She’s also younger than him; too young, the responsible part of his mind argues. Not the kind of woman that he should be interested in meeting. He still can’t look away.

“Evening.” The greeting comes out before he can stop himself. She looks up, a hint of annoyance on her pretty face, but her gaze softens as her eyes meet his. A smirk plays on her lips.

“Hi.” Her eyes flicker down his own body and up again, something akin to excitement taking over her expression. He’s rusty, hasn’t done this in ages, but her interest is palpable, and it shoots a thrill of pleasure through him.

“I’m David,” he introduces himself. No one has called him David in… god knows how long, but it feels better than Dave in this moment, right somehow. Like he can be a different person, just for a little while.

“Pleasure,” she grins, tells him her name and shakes his hand, her eyes glinting in the warm lights of the bar. Her touch on his skin, even just his hand, is like electricity is flowing through the air between them. She feels so soft and his life has been so devoid of softness lately that he has to force himself to let go of her hand again.

Something tugs at the back of his mind, like this name should ring a bell, but he shoves the thought aside. He’s too busy picturing himself taking her home this evening, imagining how soft her skin would feel in other places, how she would look splayed out underneath him on his sheets, how her breath would sound when he–

“I’ve never seen you around here before, are you new?” her melodic voice interrupts the vivid daydream playing in his mind. She has taken a step towards him and hints of the sweet notes of her perfume are beginning to surround the air around him. It’s getting a little hard to think straight.

“I– yes. First time actually,” he laughs and delights in the way her face lights up at the sound. “You come here a lot, then?” The cliché line makes him want to cringe, but she doesn’t falter, only shrugs and lets her eyes slowly trail down his body once more, obviously wanting him to notice.

“Depends. I might be here more often if it means I get to see you.”

She reaches out until her fingers softly graze his wrist and it demands a great amount of willpower not to take her home right this instant.

The heartbeat in your chest is thrumming along to the butterflies that are erupting in your stomach. You’ve never been this bold, too shy to flirt at all most of the time, but the stranger in front of you is clouding your sense of judgment and has your insecurities flying right out of the window. His interest is written over his face clear as day and you feel an immediate pull towards him that you can’t explain.

He’s so handsome that your hands are itching to touch him more, to find out if he’s as broad and solid as is large frame suggests, if that jawline would feel as strong under your fingertips as it looks, and if his deep brown eyes would soften before you press your lips against his. No wedding ring either, you note in the back of your mind, sending another surge of excitement through you.

The fact that he seems old enough to be your father, something that your therapist would probably have a few words to say about, is only adding to the arousal that’s coursing through your veins. You want him.

You almost jump when your drinks arrive in front of you; you had all but forgotten where you are, and that you’re very much in eyesight of your actual father. Suddenly, you feel silly, reality catching up to you. Surely he was just being nice and you read way too much into it, making a fool of yourself.

“Well, I–I’ll see you around then.” You hastily grab your glass and are ready to make a run for it, when his large hand wraps around your elbow.

“Looking forward to it,” he purrs, before he takes the two beers off the counter in front of him.

Awkwardness slowly sets in when you start walking in the same direction, but it doesn’t fully hit you until you both stop at the same table, your father beaming up at you.

“Sweetheart, you already met Dave I see, that’s great. Come, sit!”

You’re frozen, stupidly blinking between your father and the man beside you a few times. The man who introduced himself as David.

David. Dave. Oh. Oh.

“Y–yeah,” you stutter out eventually and plaster a smile on your face as you take a seat beside your dad. David looks just as dumbstruck as you feel when he slides into the chair opposite from you, quietly handing one of the beers over to your dad. His friend.

Your father launches into a story about their army days together and you’re nodding along, but not one word actively registers in your brain. The conversation eventually moves on to your dad’s recent work projects, the majority of the talking done by him, with the occasional question from David, while you’re silently sipping on your drink.

The initial embarrassment of the whole situation makes you want to sink down into the ground, but still you can’t keep your eyes from flicking to David again and again. They linger on his lips, constantly in a pout that you would give anything to feel against yours, the slight shadow of stubble on his cheeks at the end of the day that you know would scratch against your skin so deliciously, the way his hand dwarfs his beer on the table, thick fingers that could stretch– No. No, you’re not going there.

Your cheeks are burning and you stare down at the tabletop in front of you.

When your gaze lifts back up, David’s eyes are already trained on you, glinting like he knows exactly what you’ve been thinking about. You reluctantly look back at your father, who’s still rambling on about some big client that he’s currently dealing with, completely oblivious to the charged energy between his friend and you.

David shifts in his seat and his leg bumps against yours under the table. You grasp your drink tighter, forcing yourself not to react in any way, but you don’t move away either. Neither does he. You shoot him a look and the hint of a smirk plays around his mouth. He looks too damn good like this, so excitingly wrong in a way that makes your pulse flutter.

It feels like you’re burning up from inside and as little attention as your dad is paying to you, you’re certain that he’s gonna notice that something is off with you eventually. You hastily scramble to your feet and excuse yourself to the bathroom. You feel David’s eyes on you as you walk away until you’re out of sight.

The cool water that you run over your wrists and splash onto your cheeks does a poor job of calming you down. Stupid, stupid, stupid, you admonish yourself. It’s certainly not more than a tiny bit of flirting to him, if at all, just some harmless fun to amuse himself probably, and you’re getting this worked up about it.

No. You need to get out of this situation. You’re gonna walk back out there, make something up about a headache and catch a cab home. It will probably earn you a lecture about politeness later in the evening, but you’ll gladly take that.

When you approach the table again, your dad is just getting off his phone, his expression already far away. You know that look all too well, being subjected to it almost daily.

“Work emergency?” you ask, without a real question behind your words.

“Yeah,” he grumbles, getting up, barely looking at you, already all business. “Sorry, I gotta get to the office, Dave will drive you home. Right, Dave?”

Your eyes fly to David and you catch him swallowing hard, but he nods regardless, lips quirking up in a forced smile. “Of course.”

You both silently watch your father’s retreating back, already speaking into his phone again. The fabric of Dave’s pants ghosts against your bare leg below the table once more. You wish it were his fingers instead.

You hadn’t anticipated to be alone with him and all the reasonable thoughts that you’ve come up with in the privacy of the bathroom are wiped from your mind. It feels like you’re buzzing, a rush of excitement thrumming through your veins, like your body knows that you’re on the brink of doing something really stupid and really fucking tempting.

“I’m sorry, about earlier,” you murmur, looking up at him through your lashes. He smirks, a knowing glint in his eyes as he takes in your expression. He still hasn’t moved his leg.

“I don’t think you are.”

Your stomach swoops at his words. You bite your lip. He wouldn’t be acting like this if he didn’t want you, would he? His eyes dart to your lips at the movement and darken. Fuck it.

“No, I’m not.” You pray that he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in your voice. He’s fucking intimidating and this is wrong on so many levels and you want him so badly to want you.

The tension between you is a palpable thing, almost making it hard to breathe when he leads you out of the club, his hand at the small of your back and causing you to shiver. Will he really just drive you home? Will he say something, do something, touch you more? You don’t know how to ask for any of it and desperately wish that he’ll take the reins, that somehow he already knows what you want. You have a feeling that he does.

He opens his car door for you, another thing that really shouldn’t affect you this much, before he walks around the vehicle and gets in beside you. You catch a hint of his cologne in the confined space and press your thighs together before you can stop yourself. Your heart is racing and you just know that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

He clears his throat. “We gotta stop at my place, I have some paperwork that I’d like your–” He interrupts himself, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles are white, “that I’d like Jim to look over for me.”

You nod, a small hum leaving your throat. The implication of going to his place has you reeling. He nods back, stealing a glance at you before he starts the car. You can’t help watching him as he drives, the subtle control that he exudes, the way the muscles on his thighs are flexing underneath the fabric of his pants. He looks over at you a few times, and you don’t have it in yourself to pretend that your eyes aren’t glued to him.

“See something you like?” he asks eventually, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Yeah,” you answer, so breathless it’s embarrassing and you shift a little in your seat. Your dress rides up at the movement, revealing more skin, and his eyes fly down instantly.

“Me too,” he rasps.

When he stops the car in front of his building, you decide that it’s time to be brave.

“Do you want me to come up with you?”

“No,” his answer comes instantly. His tone isn’t cold, but determined, not to be argued with.

“Oh.” Your cheeks are heating up again. You hate how small your voice sounds. “I thought–”

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, avoiding your gaze.

“I can’t. You’re– You know why. You know I can’t.”

“I don’t care. I’m an adult, I can do what I want.”

He shakes his head, still not looking at you.

“Sweetheart, stop. Trust me, I want to, but–”

“Please?” You’re begging, no dignity left in you, only want want want. “Just one time. Please, David?”

His eyes fly up to your face at that. You can see the shift, the way his expression hardens, turning into something feral that has heat growing between your legs.

“Just one time,” he repeats, his voice dark with desire, no longer trying to conceal it.

His hands find your thighs, grabbing at you roughly, moving you until you’re in his lap, legs spread wide, his breath fanning against your lips. One hand is in your hair, the other gliding under the hem of your dress, his touch turning you into a trembling mess.

“This is what you want?” he growls, the grip in your hair tightening. You don’t think that you’ve ever wanted anything as much as this.

“Please,” you whine again, and he presses forward, lips clashing against yours, the kiss all tongue and teeth and desperate need and you’re melting into him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his hands all over you now, grabbing at your dress, your skin, any place he can reach.

Your mouth travels over his cheek and down to his neck, sucking kisses and bites into his skin. The stubble scratches against your face just like you thought it would and you start working on the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers, rolling your hips, desperate for friction. His grip steadies you, pulling down the neckline of your dress, kissing along the lace of your bra before he pulls the cups down too. A groan rises up in his throat as he cups your tits, thumbs circling over your already hardened nipples before he leans forward and sucks one into his mouth.

“Fucking perfect,” he rasps, breath hot against your damp skin. You arch into his touch and he chuckles, sucking on the bud again before he bites down, eliciting a loud moan from you. His touch travels up your thighs, leaving a burning trail behind, until his fingertips rub over the soaked fabric of your panties and you gasp at the barely-there touch.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, pressing down harder. “Already dripping for me, huh? You want it that bad?”

You nod eagerly, pushing down onto his fingers.

“Alright.” He sounds just as wrecked as you feel. He starts undoing his belt buckle and his pants and you lift up just enough to allow him to shove them down his hips.

At the first glance at his cock, your mouth falls open, a silent breath escaping you. He’s big, certainly the biggest you’ve ever had, and maybe you should think about how you’ll take all of him inside of you, but you find yourself craving him, craving the stinging stretch, craving the feeling of being as close as possible to him.

“Don’t worry.” He seems mildly amused, catching your lips in another kiss. “We’ll make it fit.”

Another shudder runs through your body at this. “I’m not worried,” you admit in a whisper.

He laughs at that, a breathless sound that you instantly want to hear again.

“Good.”

He pulls your underwear to the side and thrusts one thick finger up into your slick heat without warning. His thumb rubs around your clit and you already feel an orgasm creeping up on you. He adds a second finger, his rhythm relentless, and you cry out, grabbing his shoulders, trying to steady yourself, but it’s pointless. You’re already clenching, so close to the edge, when he pulls out of you and fixes you with a hard glare.

“Not yet. You’re only gonna come on my cock tonight, understood?”

You want to scream, want his fingers back, but you realize that you also want this authority, want him to take control, to take whatever he wants from you. It’s a heady feeling, one that you’ve never experienced before, but you’re already desperate for more.

“Okay,” you agree, and his responding smirk is enough for another wave of wetness to gather between your legs.

With one steadying hand securely on your hip, he leans over to the glovebox, mumbling about protection, but you stop him, fingers looping around his wrist.

“I’m on the pill, and I’m clean, I promise. You don’t need–”

He leans back, the grip on your hip tightening again.

“Fuck sweetheart, are you sure?”

You nod quickly, another “please” falling from your lips.

The grin on his face is downright feral as he hikes your dress up higher, eyes raking over your body. You’re sure that you look a mess, all intimate parts of you on display, your skin damp with sweat, your hair a wild nest. You curl in on yourself a little, but David won’t have any of that.

“Hey,” he growls, fingers digging into your thighs. “If I’m gonna do this, you’re gonna look at me and beg for it, are we clear?”

You lift your head, wide eyes searching his. Desperate to do what he asks, desperate for his approval. He’s gorgeous in the low lights, his cheeks flushed, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face and chest.

“Please,” you whine. “Please David, I need you.”

His movements turn frantic at your words, moving you around until you’re positioned just above him, your panties pulled to the side, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, already soaking him.

“Just one time?” he rasps once more.

“Just one time,” you agree. You’d agree to anything right now.

He pulls you down slowly, beginning to part your walls. You whine loudly at the stretch. It burns, but you relish in the feeling of getting filled by him, and his responding groan has your lips pulling up in a smile.

You keep sinking down, moving until he’s completely sheathed inside you and your eyes fall shut at the overwhelming sensation. His fingers are on your chin in an instant, giving your head a light shake.

“Nuh-uh, eyes right here, sweetheart,” he reminds you, gritting the words out. He twitches inside you and you force your eyelids to open again.

“Feels so good,” you whine, your voice reduced to a broken, breathless thing, but then he starts moving and you’re not able to form words any longer.

He rolls his hips up into you and you meet his thrusts with your own movements, clinging to his shoulders for dear life. His hands are everywhere, digging into your hips, pinching your nipples, gripping your chin whenever your eyes are starting to slip closed again.

So you keep your gaze obediently on him, your eyes locked, delighting in the way his face scrunches up in pleasure, in the sounds that are falling from his lips, matching your own.

“Good girl, taking me so fucking well,” he groans, his hand connecting with your ass in a light slap. An obscenely loud moan escapes you in response and you clench around him, more wetness covering his length and your thighs.

He stills and leans back to take in your heated face and blown pupils, an amused smirk forming on his face. “You liked that, huh?”

You nod, once again unable to meet his eye.

“Hey,” he demands, his fingers grabbing your face again. “Eyes on me, remember?”

Your gaze reluctantly trails up and his smirk grows.

“So…” he drawls, slowly picking up his thrusts again, “what exactly did you like, huh? When I called you a good girl… or when I did this?”

He smacks your ass again and you grind down onto him almost instinctively. You’re burning up in shame, but you obediently hold his gaze.

“B–both,” you whisper, in disbelief that you’re admitting this to him, but you feel too good to hold back now.

“Fuck,” he growls, his movements speeding up and his grip on your hips bordering on painful, “knew you were a dirty little thing.”

Another slap lands on your skin, harder than before, at the same time that he thrusts deep into you. The combined sensations are enough to throw you over the edge that you had been teetering on since he first touched you and you scream out his name as you fall apart.

He holds your shaking body close, cock grinding into you as you pulse around him and he groans, burying his face in your neck, spilling his own release deep inside of you.

“Fucking perfect,” he whispers, mouth pressing against your skin. “Can’t believe that you let me–”

You barely make out the words, ecstasy still coursing through your veins, but you lean into him, holding onto his broad shoulders, feeling like his body is the only real thing in your world right now.

You stay like this, entangled in each other’s embrace until your breaths even out and he carefully lifts your face, pressing one more kiss against your lips. It hits you suddenly, that this might be the last kiss that you share with him. Just one time, right?

He helps you to properly put your clothes back on, supporting your weight as you slink back into the passenger seat, before he pulls his pants back on and jogs up to his apartment to gather the paperwork for your father.

Your father. His friend. Fuck. Now that the lust-induced haze has lifted a bit and you’re able to think more clearly again, the weight of tonight’s events starts crashing down on you. He would kill you. He can’t know, no one can.

Dave returns within minutes, his brow furrowed as he takes you in. You think that he clocks the growing panic that is probably written all over your face. He reaches for your hand, slowly enough that you could retract it if you wanted to, but you long for his touch, for the reassurance of it.

“You alright?” he asks softly.

“Yeah.” You nod, trying to convince yourself as much as him.

He nods back, not prying, which you are grateful for, and starts the car, making his way over to your house. Your hand still clasped in his. Both your release and his pooling in your panties.

You only let go of him when he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine. You don’t think that your dad checks the footage from the security cameras regularly, but it’s a risk that you’re not willing to take.

“Thank you,” you mumble, once again unable to meet his eyes. “I– I had a great night.”

He smiles, appearing more relaxed than he’d been all evening.

“Me too, sweetheart. Good night.” You feel his eyes on you as you walk up to the door.

You shower, reluctantly washing away all traces of the evening and crawl into bed. You still feel his hands on your skin, the sensation following you into your dreams.

When the morning comes, hushed promises of just one time echo in your head, but the desire to do it again, for more, is burning through your body, consuming your thoughts.

“Hey Dad,” you ask, stepping into his office where he’s brooding over documents, “I think I left my jacket in Dave’s car, could you give me his number? Maybe I can go pick it up.”

if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending in an ask – it’s really the thing that keeps writers going :)

#fic: wildest dreams #dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york smut #pedrostories #dave york fanfiction #dave york fic #dbf!dave york

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star-girl69 · 2 months ago

Text

Caught You Girl

Georgia Amoore x Fem!Reader

—-

synopsis: georgia fiercely defends what is hers

also hi new pfp 😝

a/n: sorry for not posting in 10 years lol… shoutout to my wifey @cosmopretty bc she helped me w this 🫶 also the pictures at the beginning are from her…. tbh this fic would not exist without her everyone say thank you! this is also so bad but it’s ok ❤️

Caught You Boy - Lana Del Rey (Unreleased)

warnings: mentions of sex, lots of swearing, that’s it i think but lmk if i missed anything!!

—-

@/georgiaamoore my girlfriend is hotter than you and smarter than you and just better tbh (anyways happy 6 months my sweet girl can’t believe we kept it hidden for this long)

y/n.l/n it’s sweet that you think so highly of me but i thought you knew… i’m straight…

georgiaamoore @y/n.l/n bloody hell spare me

kamoreaarnold SOOO WHEN WE GETTING YOUR GIRL ON THE LIVE

y/n.l/n @kamoreaarnold wait i’m important enough to be on a KK ARNOLD LIVE????

kamoreaarnold @y/n.l/n GIRL YES WTF??

user-1 OKAYYYY HARD LAUNCH 😍

user-2 WHO STOLE MY WIFE.

user-3 @/user-2 she’s @y/n.l/n and did you not read the caption? she’s better than you

user-4 let me in there 😫😫

user-5 OMG I’m so happy for y’all 🫶

nika.muhl I feel like a proud mother

You are definitely not famous, despite the ten thousand followers that appeared out of nowhere, but your girlfriend and your friends definitely are.

You’ve been sitting on the floor for a few minutes now, KK Arnold’s phone propped up on the low coffee table in front of you, staring in shock at the rising viewers and the comments that pour in faster than you can read some of them.

Your jaw actually drops a bit when the viewer count hits 300.

You’re not famous. You’re not good in the spotlight. You’re awkward and you stutter over your words, you can’t get it out of your head how many people are watching you and analyzing everything you do.

You’re the new girl. The new person to pick apart.

And even worse, you’re Georgia’s girlfriend. And if the fans didn’t know about her official 6 month post, they can definitely see now that you’re more than friends.

Georgia has her arm wrapped around your shoulders, tucking you into her side- allowing you to feel like you’re hiding away from at least some of the prying eyes as you play with her other hand in her lap.

Her fingers softly work out nonexistent knots at the ends of your hair, and the comforting sound of her and KK’s laughs makes you feel a little bit calmer. You don’t quite forget that all the eyes are there, but they dull.

Another one of the girls here appears over KK’s shoulder, talking to the live, so Georgia turns to you. She presses a kiss to your forehead, keeping her lips there while she whispers softly.

It’s nice not having to worry about keeping your relationship hidden. It’s not like you wanted a secret relationship, it was actually Georgia’s idea. She wanted to make sure you were comfortable and all-in before she introduced you to the world of social media fame.

The one thing that’s not a secret, that’s never really been a secret, is how protective Georgia is.

You joke that it must be something to do with her being Australian, although you don’t really have an idea where that comes from.

She posted a few pictures of you in them, but she never tagged you, and your face was always pretty much hidden- she even posted a picture of the sunset and blocked out your face with her hand, laughing the entire time she did so at how ridiculous it was.

Even though you both knew there was no way she was taking that picture without covering your face.

Georgia didn’t want you to get spooked by how overbearing the fans could be- and she admitted that she selfishly wanted to keep you to herself. But you kinda wanted everyone to know that you were hers and she was yours.

And Georgia was always down for that.

You were trying it. And Georgia was there, at least. And you know you never have to worry about anything when she’s there.

“You okay, princess?”

“I’m fine,” you mumble back, careful not to let your lips move too much so the camera can’t tell what you’re saying.

“Yeah?” She says, squeezing your shoulder, prodding gently.

“I’m good,” you reassure her, smiling. You still feel kinda awkward, and she notices the way you look away from her.

“Are you sure, baby? Because if you’re not comfortable then I’ll end it right now. Or we can just leave altogether. We can grab food, if you’re hungry. Or just go home and sleep.”

“Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?” Her eyes are wide and concerned, her entire focus is poured onto you. Her eyes rake over your body language, her thumb rubs soothing circles into your shoulder, and your hand is caressed softly by hers.

“Stop spiraling.”

She smiles, squinting at you. “Hah. You’re funny.”

“I know I am. Seriously, though, I’m fine. I’ll tell you when I want to leave, okay?”

She’ll drag you away from this live at the first inkling of you wanting to leave. And even if you want to stay, she might drag you away anyways if she’s decided she’s done sharing.

She blinks for a long second.

“Okay, yeah. But seriously, tell me. Even if-”

“Georgia.”

She presses a quick kiss to your cheek, but when that does nothing to lift your unimpressed frown, she kisses your lips.

“Sorry?”

You roll your eyes, looking away from her as she kisses your cheek yet again, this time letting her lips linger. She’s about to say something, you can tell- probably jokingly beg for forgiveness, but you can’t help but notice KK’s side eye in the camera.

“Yes, KK?” You ask with a smile.

She crosses her arms and pouts. “Some of us are single, you know.”

“Awww,” the other girl coos, wrapping her arms around KK’s shoulders. “Is little KK feeling a little lonely? Does little baby need a hug?”

“Man, get off me,” KK says, still with a pout on her face, eyebrows furrowed. She props her elbows onto the coffee table while the rest of you burst into laughter at her antics. “Anyways. Y’all got any questions or anything?”

Georgia’s arm falls down from your shoulders to your waist, her nails lightly scratching your side.

“Who is the new girl?” KK reads off of the screen. “Y’all so rude, damn. This is Y/N, my new best friend and love of my life.”

You laugh, awkwardly waving to the screen.

“Y/N who are you?” KK reads another awkwardly worded comment.

Georgia makes a face and squeezes your waist, silently telling you that you don’t have to answer.

“Who am I? Um… I’m Y/N, I’m twenty-two, I’m in college right now…” You trail off, trying to think of something interesting to say. “My favorite color is pink?”

“Girl why was that a question?” KK laughs.

“I don’t know what to say!” You exclaim, gesturing to the phone. “There’s- oh, my God there’s 856 people on here. Why are you like really famous? Holy shit.”

“Thank you,” KK smiles, twirling a piece of her hair.

Georgia puts her free hand on the side of your face, angling you towards her as she narrows her eyes at the camera.

“She is also my girlfriend. So don’t get any ideas.”

“Girl, I think they can tell,” KK laughs, gesturing to the way you and Georgia are practically glued together.

Georgia shrugs. “I love my girlfriend.”

“We can tell.”

The comments immediately flood in. Some of them are talking about how cute the two of you are, a few of them are obvious jokes about you stealing everyone’s wife, but the one that sticks out to you isn’t anything like that.

wbblvr552022 THAT is georgia amoore’s gf? does she need her eyes checked 😭

You swallow, but thankfully there are so many comments pouring in that no one else seems to catch it.

“When’d you guys meet?” KK reads. “Oh, Q and A time, guys.”

Georgia immediately breaks out into a wide smile, contagious, one that makes you smile too.

She squeezes your waist in excitement before immediately launching into a dramatic retelling of her seeing you with your friends after a game, then her subtle way of inviting you to the next game in the set, then her subtle way of getting your number.

“And… the rest is history.”

KK laughs at the corny phrase, and you can’t help but smile either.

You lean forward to read more comments. “Oh, Georgia- what is your favorite thing about me?”

Georgia immediately presses her mouth into a line.

KK exaggeratedly turns towards the two of you, waiting patiently for an answer. “Don’t be shy, girly. I’m excited to hear this one.”

“I don’t think I should answer,” Georgia says, grimacing slightly. “Feels like a trap.”

“Well, there’s definitely wrong answers.” You pat her cheek with a smile. “C’mon, give it a try.”

“Umm… everything.”

You hum, pretending to think about it. “I’ll accept it.”

“What?” She asks, her eyes wide. “What the fuck is the right answer, then?”

You press your finger to her lips, shushing her. “Don’t worry about it, babe. You’ll get it one day.”

She rolls her eyes, but kisses the pad of your finger pressed against her lips. You can’t help but smile, wondering if the camera picked up that small movement- but you also find yourself not really caring.

wbblvr552022 is it possible to have a favorite thing about y/n? girl is UGLY

user-1 @wbblvr552022 hey this is actually insane!

user-2 @wbblvr552022 wtf is wrong w u?

You frown.

You can’t keep the look off of your face, you can’t help the sudden tightness in your chest and the thoughts facing through your mind.

Why are they so mean? What did you ever do to them? Are they just jealous? Or are they just right?

Do you deserve Georgia?

KK, surprisingly, is the first to notice your frown in the reflection. Her eyes meet yours, and she doesn’t say anything for a second.

She subtlety covers her mouth with her hand.

“You good?”

You’re really thankful that Georgia has suddenly turned away from the two of you to talk over her shoulder with a few girls behind you. You don’t even know their names, you don’t even care.

You smile in response.

You grab Georgia’s free hand, and she automatically tightens her arm around your waist. You tuck yourself into her, breathing in her comforting scent.

She turns back to the camera, barely even noticing the way you’re tucked into her- she’s just happy you’re touching her. You watch her smile at the camera and feel her squeeze your hand.

“Y/N’s sad?” She suddenly asks. She frowns at the screen, and your eyes widen-

user-1 y/n disappearing into georgia over there 😭😭😭

user-2 @/user-1 GOD they’re so cute i cant

user-3 y/n looks kinda sad tho??

user-1 wait you’re right y/n girl what’s wrong

You make a face and do your best to brush it off.

“I’m just tired.” You swear Georgia can hear the lie. “Thank you guys for worrying, though.” You flash the camera a bright smile and a thumbs-up.

wbblvr552022 GIRL put those chompers away 😭

user-1 @wbblvr552022 HELLO???? YALL SEEING THIS?

Georgia is not convinced that you’re okay. You can tell. She’s kinda tense against you, and she keeps looking towards the door like she’s ready to just throw you over her shoulder and leave.

She tries to meet your eyes, but you’re persistent in avoiding her, instead staring at yourself in the camera. You know that as soon as she looks at you, she’ll see it in your eyes. The bit of doubt you can’t hide.

What if they’re just right?

She suddenly squints at the camera, her eyes narrowing as she grabs it- despite KK’s protest- scrolling up as your heart slams in your chest.

“The fuck?”

The pure venom she spits those simple words out with makes KK stop trying to get her phone back.

“Georgia-” You start, squeezing the hand you’re still holding- she lets go of your hand to hold the phone.

“Sorry,” she mutters, her eyes scanning over the comments.

user-1 nice up close view i see

user-2 you got something in your nose queen

wbblvr552022 break up w your ugly ass girlfriend… cause im bored 🎶

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

“Um, hey… G?” KK starts, confused and smiling in a slightly scared way. “What’s goin’ on..?”

user-1 who the fuck is @wbblvr552022 and why have they been literally bullying y/n in the chat…

Your heart is beating so fast right now it’s roaring in your ears. Something inside of you just knows that the only way someone could get this kind of reaction out of Georgia is if they hurt you.

And as much as you hate to admit it, your heart keeps snagging on something in your chest. It does kinda hurt, as much as you want to rise above it.

Georgia hands KK’s phone back to her. She turns to you. Fuck.

“You saw those, didn’t you?”

“Georgia,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. “It’s just some random person on the internet. Yes, I saw it, but it doesn’t matter what they say, right?”

Your words sound confident and mature, and maybe if your voice could have displayed that too then Georgia would have let it go.

But you’re lying to her- and yourself.

It does fucking bother you, it does make you feel like shit- it makes you want to never go in front of a camera again.

“It’s nothing.”

You finally meet her eyes.

Maybe her being this pissed off should scare you, or concern you- but honestly? The fire in her eyes only ignites a fire inside of you. Deep in your stomach.

“It’s not fucking nothing, the fuck? No, no one gets to treat you like that. No one gets to make you sad.”

You put your hand on her face.

“Babe, it’s really sweet that you want to protect me, but you’re just gonna drag it out and make it worse, yeah? Okay? I appreciate it and I love you, but it’s okay.”

She looks away from you, trying to take a deep breath that sounds more like a pissed-off huff, and your heart is still fucking snagging on something-

“You love me, right?”

You blurt it out before you can even think, all small and insecure, chasing her love and affection that you know you have. At least, you should know you have it. But it’s like something inside of you screaming that you just need to hear it, that she loves you, and you know you’ll regret it forever if you don’t hear her say it right now.

“Fuck this,” Georgia says, practically hissing the words.

She sticks her hand out and KK- who sweetly has been doing her best to not listen to the conversation- gives the phone back.

Georgia props the camera up again, angling it so it’s only on her.

“I’m not fuckin’ playing, okay? I don’t know what the fuck is your problem, but I will literally kill you if you keep saying shit about my girlfriend.” She laughs dryly, but everyone knows there’s nothing funny about the look in her eyes and the conviction in her words. “Don’t talk about her, don’t think about her- don’t worry about my girl, she’s good with me. Worry about yourself when I fucking find you.”

She lets the phone fall back onto the table, crossing her arms, and you can tell that there’s still thoughts racing through her head.

KK slowly grabs the phone.

“Well… y’all heard her. I think it’s time to go, though… so, bye-bye girly-pops!”

She presses a button and closes her phone, and you watch the screen turn to black.

“Well,” you start, looking between Georgia and KK. “That was… something!”

Georgia sighs, itching her nose. “Sorry, baby.”

“Excuse?” KK asks.

Georgia barely cracks a smile. “Sorry, KK.”

“So… uhm… what the fuck happened?”

Georgia gestures towards the phone, huffing. “Someone was talking shit about Y/N. Like, calling her ugly, I- fuck.” She takes a deep breath. “Yeah.”

“Man, really? I’m sorry, Y/N- I would have blocked them if I saw it.”

You smile. “It’s not your fault, K. And it’s not that big of a deal, really. I mean, it sucks, but whatever. I should get used to it, right?”

Georgia laughs. “No. I am never posting you again. I’m never letting you be in a live ever again. They can’t treat you right then they don’t get to see you.”

KK makes a face that forces you to stifle a giggle. “Okay, Ms. Possessive-and-Controlling.”

She smiles. “Is that a bad thing?”

Your cheeks suddenly feel hot, because it’s really not. And you know Georgia is mostly speaking out of anger- she’s not really gonna keep you hidden from the world of social media. She might, for a week or two, but then she’ll probably forget.

“It’s been a lot of fun, KK, but maybe Georgia and I should go home..?”

Suddenly, she has the biggest grin on her face.

—-

Laying with Georgia in your comfy bed, wrapped in comfy blankets, shrouded by darkness with her chest as your pillow is probably where you feel safest. Nothing can reach you here. Social media or physical, you’re completely safe in her arms and the darkness.

“Happy?” You mutter into the darkness, smiling as you think of how mad she was just an hour ago.

“I’m really bloody happy, actually.”

“Very long night of sharing me, huh? Poor baby.”

“I agree,” she yawns. “We shouldn’t ever go out again. We should just stay in this amazing bed.”

“Okay, baby,” you mutter with an eye roll, humoring her.

“Y/N,” she says after a blissful moment. You can hear it in her voice. The concern, the hesitation. “I love you. I love you so much sometimes I’m kinda convinced you put a spell on me. Like, it shouldn’t be possible to love someone this much.”

You smile.

“I’ve caught you in my web,” you tease. “But you walked right into it.”

“Yeah, I did,” she laughs. “But I love you. You shouldn’t have to question that. I’m not doing my job as your girlfriend if you do.”

She kisses your forehead.

“All I want is for you to be happy… right next to me, though.”

You sit up, placing your hands on her chest as you swing one of your legs over her waist.

“I don’t have any plans of leaving. Do you?”

Her hands immediately move to rub up and down you thighs.

“Nope. Also, I change my mind. I want you to be happy on top of me. Or under me, I’m not picky.”

You laugh, leaning down so you can kiss her nose. You hands work out knots in her perpetually tense shoulders.

“Always thinkin’ about sex,” you mutter.

“Always thinkin’ ‘bout you,” she corrects. “And fucking you.”

You’re about to kiss her when she suddenly pulls back.

“You’re sure you’re good?”

You smile at her sweet concern for you.

“Yes, Georgia, I’m good. I mean… I felt kinda shitty for a second. Doubting that I was good enough for you- it’s silly. I know I am. And I’m… trying not to care about what they think.”

She brushes some hair behind your ear, nodding.

“You know I love you, right?” She smiles when she says it, because both of you know she tells you and shows you possibly too much.

“I know you love me,” you smile, your lips ghosting over hers. “I love you, too, my basketball star.” You press a kiss to the corner of her lips- then her chin, and you’re about to kiss her neck-

“As sexy as that is, I still want to show you how much I love you. You doubted I loved you today. We can’t have that happening.”

She sits up, and you sit back on your heels, rolling your eyes. “I know you love me. It was a millisecond, babe-”

Her hands squeeze your waist.

“Why don’t you just shut your pretty mouth and lay on your back?” She kisses your neck, that one special place that only she knows to kiss, the place that she found by loving you and now covets like treasure.

A moan immediately spills out of your mouth.

“I can do that,” you breathe, reveling in the way her hands feel as she helps you lay back.

“I know you can, baby,” she smiles. “Be a good girl, now, yeah? Let me love you.”

You’re really fucking glad that you caught this girl.

—-

#georgia amoore #georgia amoore x reader #georgia amoore x you #georgia amoore x fem #wbb x reader #wbb fanfiction

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serqphites · 7 months ago

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sam carpenter x hurt!reader

summary: this is set right after tara and chad are attacked, you and sam having rushed to their aid to alert them that you had all walked into a trap. the main focus for this though is centred around when they run backstage and enter that little shortcut tunnel 😁

format: blurb? hcs? idrk tbh 😭

warning: mentions of stabbing, blood,

not proof read! lmk if i missed any warnings!

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚ ✧ ‧

the only way i can see this happening is if she’s distracted 🤷‍♀️ we all know how protective sam can be so there is no way she would leave your side long enough to be injured unless she had a pretty good reason to not be watching over you

there’s only one thing that could distract her from you, and that’s tara. the only other person she loves as deeply as she loves you

she had rushed to get you so fast that before she could even check if you were okay you had both already made your way to where tara and chad were, her focus then shifting to her younger sister to ensure she wouldn’t get hurt again

you have no idea how much sam regrets running behind tara and leaving you to be the last in line, but right now there was nothing she could do about it

imagine how worried sam is because she’s running ahead of you and can’t see you 😕 she’s for sure shouting back at you to make sure you’re okay

“come on you gotta keep up!!” “baby you good!?” things like that

and even though you tried your best to keep up, it still wasn’t enough

as you enter the tunnel you trip slightly, giving ghostface enough time to catch up to you. they grab you by the collar of your shirt from behind, dragging you backwards as they simultaneously shove their blade into your lower back.

the sound of your scream echoing throughout the narrow tunnel makes sam’s blood run cold

ghostface drops you to the floor, giving you enough time to crawl just about far enough to dodge the camera that chad hurls in your direction

chad does manage to pull you up in time for you to both escape the tight space before your attacker becomes stable again (my man coming in clutch 💪)

you practically fall into sam’s arms. just picturing her worried puppy dog expression is making me tear up ngl

she so wishes she had enough time to whisk you away to safety, there’s nothing she wants more than to just take you away from the mess she caused.

(^^ik she didn’t cause it but she thinks she did ☹️)

as ghostface once again catches up to you all, chad knocks the popcorn dispenser off the side, knocking your pursuer down once again. sam gently moves you to lean against a nearby wall, praying to god you can hold yourself up.

you can’t 😝

as you slide down the wall sam crouches down in front of you, taking your face into her hands as tears spill from her perturbed eyes. a streak of deep red smeared blood is left behind on the wall, following your decent to the floor.

sam is so scared :(

upon noticing that chad and tara need help, she presses a soft kiss to your sweat glazed forehead. she whispers, “i’ll come back for you, just stay awake. i love you.” and at that she’s gone, moving to help hold down your foe to give chad the opportunity to hopefully put them down for good.

however, your efforts to stay awake are to no avail; mumbling a barely audible “i love you” before your whole world goes black.

a/n: it’s 5am so i’ll write pt2 and post it tomorrow 😭🙏

#sam carpenter #sam carpenter x reader #scream #scream x reader #melissa barrera #melissa barrera x reader

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munson-blurbs · 1 year ago

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Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

Summary: Thanksgiving brings back memories of happier times, and all you want is to recreate the past. But when those plans go awry, Eddie--and Harris, of course--are there to help you look forward to the future.

Warnings: mentions of Eddie's parents, brief familial conflict, Reader's grandma has dementia, most of this chapter is fluffy tbh

WC: 6.8k

Chapter 8/20

Scruffy!Eddie edit credit to @vexed-n-hexed Divider credit to @saradika

Thanksgiving, 1975

The sound of the kitchen timer beeping draws nine-year-old Eddie Munson’s attention from the television set. The local news network had been replaying the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade on a loop. It was now the third time that Eddie had watched Santa Claus make his way into Herald Square in a comically oversized sleigh, but he couldn’t get enough of it. The colorful balloons that hovered over the crowd, the marching bands playing in perfect unison, the feeling of excitement in the air—it was palpable all the way from his new home in Hawkins, Indiana.

“Dinner’s ready,” Wayne announces, grabbing the worn mitt off of the counter and pulling two TV dinners from the oven. “‘S not much, but at least we got turkey and mashed potatoes,” he bashfully adds.

Eddie nods, trying to walk without taking his eyes off of the screen.

Wayne’s bushy brows pinch together as he watches his nephew. “You always get this into the parade?” he asks.

“Never seen it before,” Eddie says softly. His parents had had a TV for a couple of years until they’d pawned it, but he doesn’t recall ever watching a parade. “Pretty cool.”

“We can keep it on while we eat, if ya want,” Wayne tells him, smiling when he sees the boy’s face light up. He places the plastic trays on the snack table and heads back to grab forks. “Ya got a favorite balloon? I’m partial to Snoopy, if y’ask me.”

Eddie nods, still transfixed on the TV. “Yeah, Snoopy’s good. I like him.” He takes the utensil from Wayne’s outstretched hand, absentmindedly dipping it in the congealed mashed potatoes. He pauses for a beat before bringing it to his lips. “Do I have to go back?”

“Hm?” Wayne mumbles, too focused on his own food to fully hear him.

“Do I have to go back with them when they get out?” Eddie repeats, keeping his voice low and training his gaze on the floor. “‘Cause I like it better here. With you. ‘S nice and quiet.”

There’s a lurch in Wayne’s chest at Eddie’s request. “Technically, I only have ya till your folks are sprung,” he admits, scratching a nail against the table, “but I can talk to a lawyer or somethin’ about keeping you here longer. Only if you want,” he adds.

“I wanna stay here,” Eddie confirms, spearing a pale turkey slice and popping it in his mouth without any attempt to cut it. “If it’s okay with you. I can sleep on the cot an’ you can take your bed back.”

Wayne shakes his head. “Room’s yours, Ed.” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t wanna promise you that the courts will agree to it, but I’m gonna try my damndest to keep you safe.” And it’s true. He’ll work double overtime at the plant if it’ll cover legal fees. When the social worker dropped Eddie off last week, Wayne had no idea how either of them would adjust. But aside from a few growing pains—like having to shave his nephew’s head when they’d discovered he’d had lice—things seemed to be alright.

“I, um, I wrote something at school yesterday,” Eddie pipes up, traipsing to his backpack and pulling out a sheet of paper. In his sloppy, boyish handwriting is written:

I am thankful for my Uncle Wayne because he takes care of me. He’s really nice and he works hard and he doesn’t mind that I listen to loud music. He also lets me feed my dinner scraps to the stray dogs in his trailer park. My Uncle Wayne is the best. I hope he’s thankful for me, too.

Wayne feels his throat constrict, and he clears it before Eddie can catch on. “‘Course I’m thankful for ya, Ed,” he manages. He reaches out to put his hand on his nephew’s back, flinching when the boy jerks away nervously. Eddie’s reflex to defend himself rather than embrace touch stirs up a reserved anger Wayne didn’t know he had, and he wills himself to simmer down before his nephew can sense it, lest he think he’s angry at him.

He slowly brings his hand to the couch cushion, careful not to make too much noise. We’ll get there, he thinks as the parade starts up for a fourth time. We’ll get there.

Thanksgiving, 1978

Ten years old is a strange age.

Too old to play with the little kids, but too young to hang around the teenagers or adults. You’re just kind of…there, like a piece of furniture that everyone absently walks around. This hiss of beer cans opening is barely audible over the men shouting at the football game on TV. You don’t know who’s playing, and you don’t really care, but it’s the only place you feel like you’ll be out of the way. Taking a seat on the floor, you remain there generally unnoticed until one of your uncles calls out your name.

“Couldja get me a refill?” Uncle Tim slurs, shaking his empty can of Bud Light to emphasize his request. Before you can respond, he throws a, “thanks, kid” and goes back to yelling at the football players.

It’s not like they can hear you through the screen, you snidely think, but you keep your comment to yourself as you pad into the kitchen. A collection of spices tickles your nose, the mixture of cloves and garlic and thyme and rosemary warming the room. You rummage through the refrigerator until you feel someone bump up against you.

“What are you doing in there?” Your aunt asks, disapproval carving her already sharp features. Her gaze drops to the can in your hand. “Seriously? Trying to sneak beer right in front of us?” she scoffs.

Grandma quickly becomes aware of the commotion, and she wipes her hand on her sunny yellow apron as she assesses the situation. “Everything okay?” Her soft eyes are concerned, not accusing, and you feel your anxiety slowly dissipating.

“I caught her trying to steal some beer,” your aunt reports proudly, as though she’s caught some serial offender, and you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes. “Not even a teenager yet and already getting into this kind of trouble.” She shakes her head with a tsk.

“No, I wasn’t,” you insist, setting your jaw in defiance. “Uncle Tim asked me to get some more for him. That’s all.”

“Tim!” Grandma calls out, tone thick with irritation. “Get over here!”

Uncle Tim trudges out to the kitchen, head already hung low in anticipation of the tongue-lashing he’s about to receive. He may be a grown man, but his mother can easily put him in his place.

Grandma folds her arms across her chest. “Why are you having your niece fetch your drinks like a barmaid? Your legs broken or something?”

“No,” he mumbles, taking the beer from your hand and haphazardly tossing a “sorry” in your direction before returning to the game.

“C’mere,” Grandma beckons you, crooking her finger to join her at the counter. She’s got a bowl of Granny Smith apples, half of them peeled, their green skins piling on the cutting board in front of her. She hands you the peeler, picking up a sharp knife and cutting a peeled apple lengthwise and cubing each slice. “Help me out. It goes a lot faster when there’s two of us. And it’ll keep you out of trouble,” she adds with a wink.

You grab an unpeeled apple from the pile and drag the tool down its curve, repeating the motion until the inner fruit is exposed before starting on the next one. You and Grandma work in tandem; you peel and she chops in a comfortable silence. As you’re finishing up the last of the bunch, she leans over and whispers in your ear, “Don’t tell anyone, but you’re the best helper I’ve ever had.” She starts placing the cubed pieces into a pot, shaking the cinnamon container over it until she takes a satisfied step back, no measuring spoon required. “Mix it together for me?”

You nod eagerly and pluck the wooden spoon from the canister behind the sink, dunking it into the pot and stirring until the apples are fully coated in cinnamon. “That good?” you ask, giving another stir for good measure.

“Perfect.” Grandma smiles, covering the mixture with water and setting it on an empty burner, twisting the knob until the coil turns red. “Once it softens up, you can mash it. Give these old arms a break,” she teases gently.

“You’re not old!” you protest, and she smacks a kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you, kiddo,” she murmurs, voice muffled against your scalp. “To the moon and back.”

You wrap your arms around her waist and squeeze her tight. “I love you, too. To the moon and back.”

Thanksgiving, 1996

“Daddy, look! It’s Santa!” Harris points at the TV excitedly, bouncing up and down on the couch. He kicks his feet and squeals. “He’s gonna come to our house, right? An’ bring me presents?”

Eddie chuckles as he spreads mayonnaise on white bread, layering thin turkey slices on top. Three sandwiches for three Munsons. “I dunno, Har-Bear; have you been good this year?”

Harris scrunches up his face in contemplation. “Um, I think so,” he answers honestly. “I can’t remember.”

“Hey, Wayne?” Eddie calls out as his uncle walks out of the bathroom. “Has Harris been good this year? I feel like he’s been a bit…mischievous.”

Wayne shakes his head. “My angel of a grandson? He’s never caused mischief a day in his little life!” He sits down next to Harris, letting out a small grunt as his bottom hits the sofa cushion.

“Yeah! I never cause mischief a day in my little life!” Harris echoes confidently. He turns to his grandfather. “Grampa, what is Santa gonna bring you for Christmas?”

“A toupée,” Eddie says from the tiny kitchen, piling their plates with potato chips. Normally, he’d make sure there was a fruit or vegetable on there, but it’s a holiday.

Wayne has to hold his tongue in front of the impressionable young boy, though he shoots Eddie an inconspicuous middle finger when he’s setting the plates on the coffee table.

The three Munsons tuck into their sandwiches and crunch on the chips. This is how Thanksgiving has been since Eddie moved back with Harris: watching the parade followed by an early lunch so Wayne could pick up a shift at the plant. He always insisted on it, saying that the holiday pay helps offset the cost of Christmas presents. It was quiet, but nice, and Eddie couldn’t ask for anything else.

“Y’know,” Wayne says to Harris with a mouthful of sandwich, “the first time your Daddy watched the parade was with me. And now, we got to watch it with you.” He bumps his arm against Harris’s, making the boy giggle.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie muses, chomping on a potato chip thoughtfully as the memories flood back in. “Forgot about that. Is Snoopy still your favorite, Old Man?”

Wayne considers this. “Hmm. Who’s our favorite balloon this year, Har?”

“Clifford!” Harris answers without missing a beat, kicking his little legs in excitement. Eddie should’ve known; the boy was damn near obsessed with dogs.

Once we can afford a house with a yard, I’m getting you that puppy, Har-Bear, he thinks, though he doesn’t dare make the promise aloud.

“Then that’s mine, too.” Wayne brushes the crumbs off of his lap, calloused hands scratching the worn denim of his jeans. There’s a twinkle in his eye as he adds, “I wonder what Ms. Sweetheart’s favorite balloon is.” He acts like he’s speaking to Harris, but Eddie knows it was aimed at him.

Harris claps his hands together gleefully. “I know! Let’s call her!” He turns to Eddie with the sweetest puppy-dog eyes the man has ever seen, lower lip jutted out exaggeratedly in the most precious pout. “Please, Daddy? Pleasepleasepleaseplease–”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says with a laugh, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Once you finish up lunch, we can call her.” Harris opens his mouth to protest that he wants to call right now, but Eddie cuts him off before he can start. “Ah ah; no whining, or we won’t call.”

Harris harrumphs but ultimately complies, taking another bite of his food. Wayne gives Eddie a small thumbs-up, and he preens slightly at the acknowledgment of his parenting win. They didn’t happen very often, and they rarely happened when someone was around to witness them. He takes a long gulp of water; as soon as he does, his son lifts his own cup to his lips and takes a sip. Another reminder that he’s watching, even subconsciously, wanting to be just like his dad.

For a split second, Eddie allows himself to believe that that might not be a bad thing.

“‘M done!” Harris chirps; sure enough, his plate is clean, save for the bread crusts. He squirms a bit in his seat, a gesture that Eddie has come to learn means only one thing.

“Go pee while I find her number,” Eddie tells him, purposely omitting the fact that he’s already committed those seven digits to memory. In case of an emergency, he thinks, and I don’t have the slip of paper on me.

Wayne can sense that his nephew isn’t being completely truthful; as soon as Harris closes the bathroom door behind him, he starts in with a shit-eating grin.

“Y’don’t need to find her number, do ya?”

Eddie flicks off an imaginary speck of dust on his shirts. “Knock it off, Wayne.” But he doesn’t move from his spot on the couch, further affirming his uncle’s point.

“Look, Ed,” Wayne exhales, adopting a more serious tone. “You clearly like this girl. I mean, all Harris did was say her name and you smiled–don’t give me that look,” he chastises lightly when Eddie rolls his eyes. “I know you two didn’t exactly get off on the right foot, but all that seems to be in the past now, right?”

“Guess so,” Eddie mumbles. “But not hating me doesn’t mean she’s into me. Maybe she’s only being nice to me because of Harris.”

The older Munson pauses, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks; his reflex when he’s deep in thought. “One date,” he challenges, holding up his forefinger to emphasize his point. “Ask her on one date, and see where it goes.”

“Fine,” Eddie relents, the nerves already churning in his stomach. You’d just found this good rhythm together, and he was going to risk messing it up. Again. “I’ll ask her. But on one condition.”

“Whas’ that?”

“Don’t say anything to Harris.” He crosses his arms over his chest when Wayne chuckles. “‘M serious, Wayne. I don’t want him getting his hopes up. For Chrissakes, I gave her a tape and the kid had us getting married.”

“Fair enough,” Wayne agrees, clamping his mouth shut when he sees the little boy enter the room. “You wash your hands?”

“Yep!”

“With soap?” he presses, narrowing his eyes.

Harris heaves an impatient sigh. “Yes! Can we call now?”

Both Wayne and Harris keep their eyes glued to Eddie as he punches in the numbers. When it starts ringing, he holds out the receiver to his son. “Say hi and your name when she picks up,” he reminds him, grateful for the opportunity to collect himself before asking you on a date. He takes a deep breath, shoving his hands in his pockets and gnawing on his lower lip so forcefully that he swears it might bleed.

You got this, Munson. The worst she can say is no.

But that’s not quite true, is it? The worst you can do is laugh in his face, leaving him a rejected mess. Scratch that–the worst you could do is accept the date, have him fall head over heels in love with you, then leave him in the dust to pick up the pieces while you move on with someone better.

Maybe you won’t pick up the phone. Maybe he’ll have more time to–

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart! It’s me, Harris!”

It was a small thing. Miniscule, even. Just your meager attempt at reclaiming part of the past that had been lost to time and disease. A simple family recipe, apples boiled and mashed into a sauce that you’d hoped even vaguely resembled the way Grandma made it. A tiny cut on your fingertip serves as a battle wound from peeling, the sweet aroma of cinnamon still lingering in the kitchen.

You try to convince yourself that it isn’t a big deal. It’s just applesauce. But the thought falls flat as you stare into the trash can. You can still see all of your work literally tossed away through the tears that blur your vision.

You’d left the room for two minutes, two goddamn minutes, and when you came back, the plastic pink bowl that held the applesauce was nowhere to be found. You could’ve sworn you left it on the counter, but maybe you’d already put it away? A quick scan of the refrigerator gave you nothing but a chill. Where the hell did it go? Were you losing your mind?

A rogue apple peel had fallen to the floor, and you scooped it up, flustered at how you could have misplaced an entire bowl of applesauce. Sure, it wasn’t as much as when you and Grandma made it for the whole family, but it was still a decent amount. Your foot presses the pedal that lifts the bin’s lid, and that’s when you see it.

“Grandma?” you choke out, looking over to where she’s sitting on the couch. She doesn’t respond, and you raise your voice a bit to grab her attention. “Grandma, why did you throw out the applesauce?”

Her empty gaze briefly flits over to where you’re standing, not even registering the burgeoning frustration and sadness coursing through your veins. “Wasn’t me,” she says flatly, scratching at the side of her nose with a jagged nail. Before dementia, her nails were always painted bright hues of red or blue; now, it was difficult enough to get her to leave the house for essential doctor’s appointments. You weren’t going to put up a fight trying to get her to the salon.

You know you should just close the lid and walk away instead of torturing yourself by continuing to look, but your feet are glued to the linoleum floor. A cold drop of something lands on your toes, and that’s when you realize that you’re crying. Crying over goddamn applesauce.

All you wanted was some semblance of normalcy, something reminiscent of life before Grandma got sick and your family still felt whole. But what you got was a thickening realization that you can’t relive the past, no matter how hard you try.

The ringing phone startles you from your wallowing. You have half a mind to ignore it, but you know that Grandma will just grumble about how she hates the sound of it, so you pick up the receiver and answer with a shaky, “H-Hello?”

“Hi, Ms. Sweetheart! It’s me, Harris!” A little voice chirps through the other end. You can hear Eddie mumbling something, though you can’t quite make out what he’s saying. “Happy Thanksgiving! What’s your favorite balloon?” There’s more hushed speaking from Eddie, and Harris huffs out, “Daddy, stop! I know what to say!”

“My favorite balloon from the parade?” you ask, biting back a giggle.

“Mhm! I like Clifford,” he tells you.

You’d kept the parade on in the background, catching glimpses of it every now and again. Shit, what balloons did you see? “Clifford’s a good one,” you agree, “but I think the Rocky and Bullwinkle one was my favorite.”

Harris laughs so loudly that you have to pull the phone from your ear. “The squirrel and the moose?” he guffaws. “Ms. Sweetheart, that’s so silly!” You’re about to ask him how his holiday is going when he says, “Hold on, my daddy wants to talk to you.”

Your heart skips a beat at the prospect of talking to Eddie, and you wipe the tears from your wet cheeks as though he’ll be able to see them through the phone.

“Hey, Happy Thanksgiving!” he says. Something resembling trepidation tinges his tone, though you’re not sure why. Could he still be anxious to approach you after he confided in you at the parent-teacher conference? After he’d watched you panic when Grandma locked herself in her room?

You swallow, trying to choke down the sadness rising within you. “Yeah, y-you, too.” Despite your best efforts, your voice breaks on the last word, and you hope Eddie doesn��t catch it.

But of course he does.

“You okay?” he asks with a nervous chuckle. “‘Cause it kinda sounds like you’re crying.”

“‘M fine. Just, um, chopping onions,” you lie, hoping you’ve done a convincing job.

“For the…applesauce you’re making?” Eddie sees right through you; you’d forgotten that you’d told him and Harris about your plan during your weekly post-tutoring dinner last night. “Not gonna lie, that sounds even nastier than olives on pizza.”

You manage a laugh, but it’s disfigured by the catch in your throat. “The applesauce was a bust, unfortunately,” you admit. “I left the kitchen for a second and Grandma chucked it in the trash.”

“All of it?” he asks incredulously, letting out a deep exhale when you confirm that she did, in fact, throw out the entire bowl. “Jesus H. I’m so sorry. Is that what’s got you upset?”

“Mhm. I know it’s stupid, ‘s just applesauce, but–”

“‘S not stupid,” Eddie interrupts softly, and you twist the phone cord around your pointer finger with the sudden drop of his tone. “I know you were really looking forward to it.” He pauses, and you wonder for a moment if the line’s gone dead before he says, “We’re coming over. Me and Harris. Be there in twenty; fifteen, if I don’t have to argue with him about wearing a jacket.”

Before you can protest, he really does hang up. You look down at the baggy sweats and college t-shirt you’re wearing; you weren’t expecting any guests today, let alone the Munson boys. You should probably throw on some actual pants, and a bit of mascara couldn’t hurt, either.

You find a pair of jeans that aren’t buried under a mountain of laundry and tug them over your thighs before quickly swiping some makeup on your face. It’s enough to mask your exhaustion while still looking natural.

It dawns on you that you’re not quite sure why you suddenly care so much about your appearance. Harris couldn’t care less, and Eddie…well, even if Eddie did care, why would that matter to you? He’s your tutee’s parent; a new friend at most. On more than one occasion, you’ve answered the door to Jess with a wicked case of bedhead. Why does Eddie Munson of all people make you feel the need to look halfway decent?

When the buzzer sounds, you nearly jump out of your own skin. “It’s us,” Eddie says into the speaker; the smoothness of his voice has your stomach in knots. “And we come bearing gifts. Well, one gift, I guess.”

“Fuck off,” Grandma mumbles from the couch, cranking up the TV volume to an ungodly loud level. One of the Law & Order detectives says–no, screams–something about a murder, and you quickly reach for the remote and click the power button.

“We have company,” you tell her, and she just grunts in response. Hopefully her mood will change in the minute it will take Eddie and Harris to get to your apartment. You can hear them down the hallway, so you open the door just as they’re about to knock.

Eddie takes a step back in surprise. “You psychic or somethin’?” he laughs, looking down at his son and giving him a small nudge. “Go ahead, you can give it to her.”

Your gaze drops to the curly-haired boy standing by his father’s side. He’s holding a brightly colored package of off-brand Oreos, which he brings closer to his chest, pressing it tightly against his zippered sweatshirt. “It’s s’posed to be a surprise,” he reminds Eddie, wide-eyed with genuine concern.

“Only until we got here,” Eddie says gently, soft brown eyes encouraging Harris to hand you the cookies. He brings his attention back to you. “I know it’s not the same as making applesauce with your grandma, but I’ve never been sad eating an Oreo. An oatmeal raisin cookie, maybe. But not an Oreo.”

Now it’s your turn to smile. “You may be onto something here, Munson.” You take the package from Harris and guide the two of them to the kitchen, calling out to Grandma as you pass by. “Grandma, Eddie and Harris are here, and they brought cookies, if you wanna join us.” Her non-response is familiar at this point; the sting is much easier to brush off than it was a few short months ago. But you still feel it.

Even though Grandma isn’t at the table, Harris still climbs onto his dad’s lap. “Daddy, can I have one?” he asks, resting his dimpled chin on his palms as he glances upwards.

“Gotta ask Ms. Sweetheart,” Eddie shrugs, tickling Harris’s ribs and loudly whispering, “and ask her if your poor, hungry dad can have one, too. She can’t say no to you.”

You open the package and shake your head at his antics, sliding out the flimsy tray and offering it to them. “Of course you can have one, Harris,” you say, tone saccharine sweet. His chubby fingers darting out and snatching up a cookie before you even finish your sentence. “But I don’t know about your dad. Do you think he should get one?”

“C’mon, Har,” Eddie urges him, “us men gotta stick together. All for one and one for all, right?” He flexes his bicep; it’s an attempt to emphasize the manliness that supposedly bonds him and Harris, but the gesture has your breath catching in your throat. You sputter and cough embarrassingly, excusing yourself to pour a glass of water.

“Anyone else want?” you manage once you can speak again, holding up the ceramic pitcher.

Eddie nods, lifting Harris from his lap and placing him on the nearest empty chair. “Here, let me help you.” He stands up and calls out over his shoulder, “Grandma, how about some water?”

You’re about to tell him not to worry about it, but to your surprise, she nods. “Ya.”

“So, four waters,” Eddie reports, taking the pitcher and refilling your glass.

You grab another just like it from the cabinet before taking two blue disposable ones, plopping a bendy straw in each. “Grandma, um, she needs stuff that isn’t breakable,” you explain lamely. “And the other plastic one is for Harris.”

Eddie grins. “Thought it was for me. Y’know, always making a mess.”

“Ah, but only of your life,” you tease. “You’re pretty good with basic human functions.” Your face burns at what you’ve potentially implied, but Eddie isn’t fazed.

“Y’know what? I’m gonna take my cookies back!” he pouts, crossing his arms over his chest in mock-indignance. A piece of curly hair sticks to his lower lip with his sudden movement, and you brush it away with your thumb before you can stop yourself.

The crinkling of the fake-Oreo package draws both of your gazes, with Eddie poised to tell Harris that he’s only allowed one more. But to your surprise—and perhaps Eddie’s, too—Harris isn’t the one rifling through the tray. Grandma’s taken a seat next to the boy, handing him a cookie before taking her own. She just nibbles on it in silence, but it’s the most present she’s been in days.

“Y’like Oreos, Grandma?” Eddie asks, pouring water into the two plastic glasses and carrying one in each ringed hand. He places them on the table, and Grandma brings the straw to her lips as she nods again. He pauses for a moment, lips tucked into his mouth as he ponders something. “What kind of music does she listen to?” he asks you.

“She has a record collection over in the living room,” you tell him, pointing to the low bookshelf near the door, “but we haven’t played any in awhile. She’s kinda…weird with noises.”

He considers this, walking over to the records and thumbing through them until he finds one that he recognizes. “Could I put this one on?” He holds up the battered copy of Frank Sinatra’s It Might As Well Be Swing. “I’ll take it off if she gets upset. I just wanna try something.” He carefully slides the record from its sleeve, lifting the player’s needle and placing it on the space for the first track.

There’s a soft static as the record starts to spin, and Ol’ Blue Eyes croons:

Fly me to the moon

Let me play among the stars

Let me see what spring is like

On a-Jupiter and Mars

Eddie joins in with the next part. His voice still carries its signature rasp, but it’s noticeably smoother, warmer than the night he’d dedicated the Def Leppard song to you.

In other words, hold my hand

In other words, baby, kiss me

His eyes remain trained on the record player, but you swear you can feel the lyrics drifting towards you. The melody wraps around you like a hug, and you momentarily lose yourself in a musical embrace.

Another voice, low and timid, chimes in. You have to stifle a gasp when you realize that it’s Grandma, her lips curling into the smallest of smiles–the most joy she’s shown in a long while–as she half-sings the words.

Fill my heart with song

And let me sing for ever more

You are all I long for

All I worship and adore

“Holy shit,” you breathe out, and before you can exhale the third syllable, the world shifts back to normal. Grandma goes back to mindlessly munching on her cookie as though nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. You turn to Eddie. “What was that?”

He shrugs, suddenly feeling shy. “I read somewhere that music can, like, bring back some memories. Not permanently or anything, but I figured it was worth a shot.”

You can’t stop yourself from flinging your arms around Eddie’s neck, nearly knocking him over in the process. He pauses before he returns the gesture, pulling you tightly into him. One hand is on the small of your back; the other gently rests on the back of your head, allowing you to rest your forehead on his chest. Your tears flow freely, leaving tiny wet spots on his shirt. He doesn’t let go until you start to pull back.

“Thank you,” you whisper; when he pinches his brows in confusion, you elaborate. “You gave me back a little piece of who she was before…” you trail off, swiping at your cheeks messily. “Just…thank you.”

Eddie nods, swallowing the lump in his throat. His eyes are practically glued to your lips; this time, when his fingers brush against your palm, he hooks his pinky with yours. “‘Course,” he murmurs.

You’re not sure how long the two of you remain linked like this, joined hands swaying ever-so-slightly as Fly Me to the Moon fades out to I Wish You Love. It’s somewhere between ten seconds and ten years, because time seemingly slows to a halt.

You might stay with pinkies hooked forever if Harris doesn’t bolt from his chair, hugging your waist and looking up at you with concern.

“Ms. Sweetheart?” he asks. His wide, misty eyes indicate that he’s absorbed some of the emotion in the room, though he may not even be aware of this. “Why are you sad?” His chubby fingers grab onto the fabric of your pants.

You choke out a tearful laugh as you crouch down to meet him at his level. “I’m not sad…well, I’m sad and happy at the same time,” you try to explain, shaking your head when you realize you’re only adding to his puzzlement. “Grown-up feelings are weird sometimes, Har. But your hugs definitely help.”

With that, he squeezes you tighter, and you glance at Eddie with a full heart. He takes a step forward, scooping up Harris. You worry that you’ve crossed a line, that you’ve shown too much of your vulnerability to a four-year-old, but your fears are subdued when Eddie extends one arm and brings you back to both him and his son. Something brushes against your scalp, and you realize that he’s pressing a light kiss to the top of your head.

Harris squirms, and when Eddie puts him down, he runs over to the TV set. “Can I watch something?” It’s clear that the moment has passed, and Eddie throws you an apologetic shrug as he waits for your response.

“Sure,” you say, trying to pepper cheerfulness into your voice. It’s easier now that the wave of loneliness has passed, taking with it some of the mourning you’d clung to earlier today. You click on the TV and flip through channels until a familiar cartoon appears on the screen. “I think we’re just in time to watch A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving!” you exclaim, and Harris mirrors your enthusiasm by flinging himself onto the couch, making his dad cringe.

“Careful, little dude,” Eddie says, clicking off the record player and gently placing the vinyl back in its sleeve. “You just got that cast off a few days ago. Don’t need you to break another bone.” Certainly don’t need another hospital bill, he thinks bitterly. He takes the spot next to Harris, silently begging you to join them.

You turn to the kitchen table and put a hand on Grandma’s shoulder. “You wanna watch Charlie Brown with us?” But she rejects your invitation with a simple shake of her head, mumbling something about being tired and padding into her room.

You take the empty space to Harris’s left so that the boy is sandwiched between you and his father. He’s a small kid, but it seems like there’s an entire ocean separating you and Eddie.

“Why’s Lucy so mean?” Harris asks no one in particular. “She’s always yelling. Like Ms. Marion.” You have to stifle a giggle at that observation, and when you allow yourself a glance, you see that Eddie’s doing the same.

The first half of the movie is filled with Harris’s constant commentary; he speaks more than all of the cartoon characters combined. But he tires out eventually, though in typical four-year-old fashion, he denies his sleepiness even as he’s yawning. He fights it pretty well, you’ve got to give him credit where it’s due, but eventually, the exhaustion takes over and he lays his head on your arm. His curls tickle your elbow, and you gingerly reposition him so he’s tucked up against your side.

“You can move him over, if you get uncomfortable or somethin’. Kid sleeps like a rock. Except, y’know, when I need him to sleep.” Eddie snickers as Harris lets out the softest, tiniest snore.

You return the laughter and shake your head. “Nah, I’m good,” you reassure him, smiling at the ruddy cheek pressed against you. “Don’t tell my other students, but Harris is the cutest kid ever.”

Eddie shrugs, but you can tell that the compliment tickles him. “Well, it makes sense, since his dad is a total stud.” He waggles his eyebrows before turning his attention back to Charlie and Lucy. You’re not quite sure how to respond to that; if you play it off as a joke, you risk hurting his feelings. If you tell him the truth–

“D’you like coffee?”

His sudden, seemingly arbitrary question snaps you from your indecision. “I teach four-year-olds,” you reply lightheartedly, hoping he can’t sense your mind continuing to linger on his stud comment. “I practically have coffee running through my veins. What about you?”

“I have a four-year-old, so, same.” He clears his throat, seemingly double-checking that his son is still sound asleep. His leg is bouncing up and down, and he nearly has to press on his knee to get it to stop. “Um, Harris is going to a birthday party next Saturday morning if you wanted to get some with me? Get some coffee, I mean.” He silently chastises himself, wondering if he’d ever been suave around women or if it had just been the unearned confidence of a young man in his early twenties convincing him that he had.

“Like...like a date?” Fuck, do you sound too eager? “Because if you feel like you owe me a date after…after our night at the bar, you don’t have to. I forgave you after you gave me those M&Ms, remember?”

“Yeah…wait, no. Hold on.” Eddie holds up his pointer finger as he collects his thoughts. He could deny that it’s a date altogether and throw out some bullshit lie about it just being something between friends. But he promised Wayne, promised himself that he’d give this a shot. “Yes, I’m asking you on a date. No, it’s not because I feel like I owe you one–although I definitely do,” he adds with a goofy grin that sends flutters to your stomach. “It’s because, fuck, I can’t stop thinking about you, and how happy you make me–and Harris, too–and how I get kinda nervous around you, which makes no sense because you’re, like, the nicest fuckin’ person ever. Oh my God, why can’t I stop talking?”

“Eddie.” The way you say his name is like a song he could replay forever. “I’d really like to get coffee with you. I just need to see if someone can watch Grandma…maybe Jess,” you surmise, biting back the fact that you’ll have to withhold your date’s name, lest she subject you to a lecture about sleeping with the enemy.

Eddie nods, swiping the tip of his tongue over his lower lip and smiling. “I can pick you up at noon? If Jess can watch Grandma, of course.”

“Noon works.” You want to kiss him right then and there; if Harris wasn’t nestled in the middle of you both, you might not hold back. “I can let you know on Wednesday when we have dinner together.”

Eddie’s not sure he can wait that long for an answer. What if you’re just buying time to get out of it? What if you’re only being nice to him because you’re afraid that he’ll get angry again and reignite the bitter feud you’d been locked in just a month ago? He swallows the insecurities, gaze flickering to your eyes.

And maybe it’s because you can sense his unease and self-doubt, or maybe it’s because you genuinely want to–Eddie doesn’t know for sure–but he feels you lace your fingers with his, resting your joined hands on his thigh. He shifts his grasp to weave them tighter together, learning back into the couch and allowing his body to relax. His shoulders let go of tension he hadn’t realized he was holding on to, and a contented sigh slips from his lips.

It’s you, him, and Harris. Sitting on the sofa and watching a holiday movie. An unconventional little family, but a family all the same. Eddie swears that he could stay like this forever, a thought that almost has him bursting out in laughter. The same man who had concocted an elaborate method to keep women around without actually committing to them was now reveling in domestic bliss.

When the movie ends and Harris begins to rouse, Eddie begrudgingly stands with an exaggerated groan. “These old bones, y’know,” he laments with a mischievous click of his tongue. “Everything starts fallin’ apart when you turn thirty.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, lifting Harris onto his hip and rubbing his back to help him fall back to sleep. “I know.” He grabs his keys from the shelf near the door as you walk them out. And before he can wimp out, he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead in a gentle kiss, stubble scratching against your skin. His hands are trembling when he pulls away.

“You’re the best,” he repeats the same statement he’d made on parent-teacher conference night. It’s even more true now than it was then. “We’ll see you on Wednesday for pizza?” And an answer, hopefully a ‘yes.’ “Wednesday,” you echo, still processing the fact that, for the second time today, Eddie Munson’s lips have been on you.

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macfrog · 1 year ago

Text

welcome home cowboy like me chapter five

he's back!!! and he's putting up DECORATIONS part v is yours, loves. if ya wanna read the first four (!! how did we get here) parts, you can check out my masterlist right here 😊 as always your support means the WORLD to me. i love talking with y'all & hearing your thoughts. lmk what we think of this one!!!

pairing: dbf!joel x fem!reader

summary: joel requests your help to decorate his house for sarah’s return…and a few other things, too

warnings: 18+ minors dni!!! the smut is smutting. oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it the fuck UP), praise kink, lil bit of overstimulation, age gap (reader is 23, joel is 48), un poco consumption of alcohol, cursing, soft!joel at the end tbh i'm a sucker for him

word count: 5.4k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

It’s where this was headed anyway, wasn’t it? You’ve fucked around with Joel three times now, and none of your clothes have ever made it off your bodies. This is a first. You’ve never had an empty house plus the time and space to really do it. Always someone about to walk in, or someone waiting for one of you. When, if not right this fucking second? “I want,” you breathe, fingers now taking hold of the waistband of his black boxers, “you,” you slip them down, “inside me,” exposing the base of his hard cock, “right now.”

The two front legs of your chair scrape against the wooden floor as you lift it to sit down. Your dad had an early finish today, so said he’d cook dinner. From scratch.

He’d refused your help when you offered to keep an eye on the chicken, was more offended when you said you’d cook the asparagus, and now, looking at your scrunched nose as you stare down at the lumpy mashed potatoes, looks just plain insulted.

“Sit, eat, don’t say a word.”

“I offered to help.”

His fork hits off the porcelain plate and he sighs. “I had a lot to tend to, alright?”

“Chicken, asparagus, and…mashed potatoes?” you say, dragging your fork through the mash – though it’s more lump than it is mash.

“Eat. It.”

You tuck in, ignoring the rattle of the table as you tug your knife back and forth to cut the chicken. Your dad’s face reddens as you chew your way through his meal.

“How was work?”

You throw your mouthful back your throat with a gulp and take a big swig of water. “Good,” you try not to choke out, “Sal let me go early ‘cause it was so quiet.”

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Bill was in lookin’ for screws or something. Was Anna who helped him–”

Your sentence is cut short by your dad’s ringtone, and he leans back in his chair to the sideboard behind to retrieve it.

“Yep?” he says, and you know who’s on the other end. Yep? means Joel. “Shoot, I forgot to ask her. Well, she’s right here, gimme a sec.”

He covers the bottom of his phone with his palm, and nods toward you.

“You alright to head over to Joel’s tonight ‘n help ‘im with the house for Sarah comin’ home?”

You narrow your eyes, head tilting. “What…?”

“He’s got some banner or something. Joel, what is it you got? Yeah, a banner. Decorations.”

He cocks an eyebrow and looks at you blankly.

You slowly nod, teeth pulling asparagus off your fork. “I can help.”

“She’ll be over in a bit, Joel. Alright. Alright. Bye, now.”

The phone is thrown onto the table with a clatter. Your dad silently resumes eating.

You clear your throat, trying to sound normal over something you feel very not normal about.

“You volunteerin’ me for things again? I thought we talked about this when you told Rita I’d fix up her flowerbeds for her.”

“Oh, we’re bringin’ up the past, are we?”

“Just sayin’,” you mutter, staring down at your lumpy potatoes.

“Wasn’t me, anyways. Joel asked for you specially this afternoon. Told him you were workin’, he said to ask you when you got back. Was his idea.”

Was it, now? That’s…interesting.

“What time’s he wanting me over?”

“Whenever. He’s in all night.”

Suddenly you’re not so hungry for overcooked chicken and not-mashed potatoes anymore.

You swallow down what you can – what’s edible, anyway – and head upstairs to get ready. Trying to act casual enough that your dad won’t sense your eagerness.

Sure, just grabbing my shoes. I just want the house to look nice for Sarah. It’s really her I’m thinking of. Okay, cool, see you, bye.

You throw a pair of sneakers on, check yourself once over in the mirror, and grab your keys.

“That was quick,” your dad remarks when you reach the bottom of the stairs. He’s still powering through his asparagus.

“Just…wanna get it done. For Sarah, y’know.”

He nods. “You lookin’ forward to havin’ her back? Your ol’ pal?”

“Sure. Alright, I’m off. Don’t wait up.”

You practically throw yourself out the front door before he can get another word in, striding over to your car. You’re thankful when the late sun hits you to only be in sweat shorts and a vest top; it may be seven in the evening, but the heat is still stifling.

You pull up in Joel’s drive and climb out, giving the neighborhood a quick scan as you walk over to the front door, trying not to skip. Being handed an excuse to spend a few hours alone with him in an empty house feels like winning the lottery, you’re a little embarrassed to admit.

Joel’s in the living room laying out the decorations he’s bought when you walk in. He’s wearing a denim shirt and white Rangers tee underneath, his regular old jeans on the bottom.

His Hello is comprised of a glance up, a lift of his eyebrows, and a quick scan over your body as you approach. You take a deep breath to dissipate the bubbling feeling in your stomach.

“So, you asked for me specially, huh?”

He nods. “It was either you or your dad, and his ass ain’t as nice to look at as yours.”

“Oh, nice. Glad to be of service. Looks good,” you muse, nodding downward.

The supplies are sprawled out over the coffee table between you both. A huge banner folded up; the beginning of the word Welcome visible. A few packets of multi-colored streamers, balloons, and other gold and silver colored stuff lay around it.

“Probably won’t use it all,” Joel says, sniffing. “Just wanted to give her a big welcome home.”

“All my dad did was pick me up at the airport,” you scoff.

Joel looks up, misses a beat, then says, “Well, your welcome home gift is me.”

“Ha. Good one. C’mon. Let’s get started.”

You task Joel with blowing up balloons while you balance along the back of his couch to tape streamers to the top of the walls. It’s a struggle, though, since Joel keeps tying balloons and hitting them over to you, aiming for your head. He titters to himself when your hair begins to go static.

“That funny to you?” you yell, whacking the fifth balloon out of your face.

“Yeah,” he chuckles back. “You should see your hair, kid.”

By the time the streamers are suspended from the ceiling, dancing in the breeze from the open windows, Joel’s out of breath and sweating.

“Hard fuckin’ work,” he mutters, taking off his shirt. He throws it onto the couch without looking, but still, you suspect he knows exactly what you’ll do.

With a sideward glance to him, you lean back and fish it from the couch, throwing it over yourself. There’s something intoxicating about wearing his clothes, smelling him all over yourself, feeling the warmth from his body. Joel knows it. When he glances over at you to see his shirt hanging off your shoulders, he smirks.

“I think we deserve a break,” he says, eyes lingering.

When he makes off for the kitchen, you throw yourself down on his couch, head falling back against the soft cushions.

He returns with two beers, handing one down to you before laying back beside you. Your shoulders rub against one another as you both take a swig.

“Your dad really didn’t do nothin’? When you got home?”

“I guess you could say he did the barbecue,” you reply, shrugging.

“The neighborhood barbecue, that everyone takes a turn at hostin’? The same one he had you out buyin’ steaks and soda for, two hours before it started?”

“I don’t need a welcome home party. I am the welcome home party.” Your middle finger meets your thumb and you give your wrist a shake in the air, and Joel laughs.

“You deserve one.”

“You wanna throw me one?”

“Can do. If you want.”

You smile in response.

A few moments of silence pass. Comfortable silence. You lie, temple resting against Joel’s shoulder, listening to the trees in his back yard rustle, the birds singing. Peaceful, tranquil. Content.

You like talking with Joel. You like when he’s doing other stuff to you, sure, but you like just being around him. It’s different to spending time with anyone else his age. They all want to ask about your future, your career, are you dating anyone?

Joel just lets you be. Doesn’t push nothin’, doesn’t make you worry. Just wants to make you feel good.

Both mentally and physically, of course.

“Heard any more from Arthur Kennedy?” you ask, more just to hear his voice again than anything. You’re kinda worried he’s falling asleep over there.

Joel takes a deep breath, starts playing with the label on his beer bottle. “Nope,” he says, taking a quick sip, “and don’t wanna.”

“What is it with him, anyways? Why is he the way he is?”

“Just a dirtbag of a man. You get ‘em, y’know? Ain’t none of us really like him. I was pissed at your dad for askin’ him the other day.”

“What does he say at Frank’s? What kinda talk does he give?”

Joel shakes his head like he doesn’t even want to open his mouth. When you nudge him, he clears his throat and then speaks.

“Just all this, ‘I bagged this chick last week’, ‘I was messin’ ‘round with this little beauty’… ‘Tighter ‘n a’ this, ‘Wetter ‘n a’ that. We all know he’s just talkin’ load. The man’s too old to even get an erection anymore.”

You snort. “I bet I could run rings around ‘im, if I ever caught him talking like that.”

Joel half laughs, but it falls apart when his tone gets quietly serious again.

“Just…do me a favor, and stay away from him,” he says in a soft voice. “You’d have me up all night if I thought him ‘n his sleazy hands were anywhere near you.”

He turns his head to lean his jaw on your hair. You think over what he just said. The thought of Joel, awake all night with worry about some sleazeball being within a four-house radius of you makes your stomach flutter.

The idea of him being worried about you. The thought of what he’d do if he ever caught wind Arthur Kennedy had even so much as looked at you twice.

Before your stomach lurches out of your throat with the butterflies soaring around it, you decide to cut the moment short.

“Where’s the banner goin’?” You lean forward, placing your beer on the coffee table and taking hold of the sign.

“Was thinkin’ on that wall,” Joel nods to the wall across from the living room door, “so it’s the first thing she sees when she comes in.”

“Uhuh,” you reply, nodding.

“C’mere,” he says, standing up. “Climb on.”

“Climb on what?”

“My shoulders. I can’t reach all the way up there, what with the TV in the way and all.”

“You’re, like, six feet.”

“It’s a big banner,” he grumbles, kneeling to let you swing your legs over his shoulders. “C’mon. Up.”

“Pfft, okay, old man.”

“Old–? Did you just–? That’s not even funny.”

Joel straightens up and you clutch your stomach with laughter.

“Will you just get on, baby?”

“Alright, alright. Stay still.”

You carefully mount his shoulders and his steady hands wrap around your knees, holding you in place. You wobble as he straightens his legs, lifting you so high your head brushes off the ceiling.

“Alright, be careful. No sudden movements.”

“Right here?” you ask, positioning it.

“Little to the left,” he groans, craning his neck to see. “Right there, that’s it.”

You push the pin through the banner and into the wall, releasing your breath once it’s secured. Joel slowly shuffles over to the other side where you line it up and do the same there.

Once all four corners are in place, he steps back, your legs still wrapped over his neck, and you both admire your teamwork. Joel’s thumbs are gently rubbing your thighs.

“Looks good, huh?”

“Mhm,” you reply. “Anything else to go up?”

“Nah. That’ll do.”

“You just keepin’ me up here for company, then?” you ask, leaning over to look at his face.

He looks back up at you and snorts. “Sorry, darlin’.”

Joel slowly makes over to the couch and bends a little, letting you dismount him to stand on the leather cushion. You’re only slightly taller than him, even standing on his furniture.

He doesn’t take his eyes off you, scanning from your lips down to your chest, curtained by his shirt, then over your stomach and down your legs. You know that look. You’ve seen it enough by now. It means…

“What’s next?” you innocently ask, and his eyes snap back up to your face.

Instead of answering, he steps forward, taking your waist in his hands and pulling you against him. His chin tilts up and you smile as you dip your head, connecting your lips.

You immediately deepen the kiss, feeling Joel’s hunger, and satiating your own, too. Your arms drape over his shoulders, relaxing as his form holds you, allowing you to fold into him.

His arms take a grip of you as he bends at the waist, lowering you both down onto the couch, laughing against each other’s lips. He pulls your thighs apart to lean his hips between yours.

His hands begin exploring your body, feeling from your hips over your breasts, making you moan into the kiss, and settle on the collar of his shirt, pushing the sleeves down your shoulders to remove it. In return, your fingers find the hem of his tee and pull it up over his midriff, hunger growing with each hot second that passes.

He leans back, giving you room to whip the shirt over his head, before his naked torso is back on you. His fingers then dance along the waistband of your shorts, untying them whilst his other hand plays at the hem of your vest.

Your shorts lying loose on your hips, he peels your top off of your body, and your shoulders lift to let it over your head. Joel takes the opportunity while your back is off the couch to unclip your bra, throwing the article to the floor.

“Nice,” you whisper into his mouth, and he chuckles in response.

His bare chest, decorated lightly with dark brown hair, is against yours; his lips move to your neck, biting another mark into the sensitive skin. Your head tilts back and you let out a moan, wanting more, but Joel’s taking his time. He’s making every second count.

You buck your hips against his and he lifts his head, giving you a knowing smirk and obeying your silent request. He begins making his way down, not forgetting to stop off by your tits and run his tongue over your nipples.

Your hands find home in his hair and your back arches some as he caresses the hardened buds, lips forming an O shape to suck on one while tending to the other with his thumb and index finger.

When you whine and your hips lift a second time, he moves across your tummy and toward your lowering shorts.

Eyes glazed with lust, you watch as he yanks them down, your panties the only thing separating you from him now. You hear your shorts hit the floor when he drops them, and places a wet kiss over your clothed cunt.

“Joel,” you moan, head falling back against the cushion. He’s driving you fucking insane.

“Mhm,” he murmurs, kissing the insides of your thighs. “Tell me, baby, tell me what you want.”

You writhe under his touch; he’s so close, and yet so far.

“Your tongue,” you whimper.

“Huh? Can’t hear you over your moanin’, pretty girl.”

“Fuck– Need your fucking tongue,” you say as clearly as you can, still whining some.

“Good girl.”

He uncovers your soaking cunt and tears – literally, tears – your panties off of your body, balling them up in a tight fist. You gasp, both delighted and relieved, watching him discard the ripped fabric by his side.

Neither of you give a fuck. You’re desperate to feel each other, be on each other, be in each other.

He dips his head to your sex, and drags a long stripe up to your clit, collecting your juices on his tongue as he does. His tongue runs between your folds, swirling around, licking and threatening to dip further, before he lifts away again.

You let out a long moan, hands still tugging at his hair, attempting to push his head harder on your pussy. He doesn’t budge.

“Patience, baby,” he’s whispering, lowering his chin again to place his soft lips against your swollen clit.

He knows what he’s fucking doing – teasing you and making you wait like this. He wants it to build, really build, before you cum. He’s not cutting any corners.

His lips center over your bud, tongue tapping against it as he sucks, and brings his fingers up to sift through your folds. Your cunt aches for him; your hips find rhythm against his mouth as you fuck yourself off of him, and he lets you.

Feeling how wet you are, he plunges two long, curved fingers into your pussy, and your back, sticky with sweat, peels off of the couch for the second time.

“Fuck, Joel,” you gasp, feeling the stretch of his fingers inside you.

He hums against you, the vibrations of his deep voice pleasuring you more. He’s loving it as much as you are; tasting you, hearing you, breathing all of it in like it’s fresh air to his lungs.

Your breathing begins to falter, your chest rising and falling, your entire body ignited by his touch. You’re panting his name over and over, whining every time his fingers hit the spongey walls of your cunt.

He’s so fucking good at this.

He removes his fingers and replaces them with his lips, mouth planted firmly against your pussy. You widen your legs and he pushes down on your thighs, keeping them apart to make room for his jaw against your core, tongue licking between your folds again.

“Tongue,” you remind him.

“I hear ya,” he mumbles, and opens his lips.

His wet tongue slips into your cunt like it’s made to be there. You screw your eyes shut, pushing your upper back into the couch to lift your ass to him. His top lip cups around your clit as he eats you out, moans strumming against your sex, tongue exploring your wet hole.

“I’m close,” you whisper, and he removes his lips for two seconds to tell you to “Keep goin’, baby.”

“Doin’ so well for me,” he laps at your juices, “taste so fucking good, beautiful.”

He inserts his fingers again to bring you nearer your climax, and your mind starts to blank. You know what’s coming.

You can’t even form the shape of his name with your mouth as you draw nearer and nearer to your high; all you can focus on is the feeling of his hand fucking you, pumping in and out of your tight pussy, the way his tongue soaks your clit, the rutting of your hips all over his face.

It’s so fucking filthy, and so fucking good.

When Joel’s voice breaks through the fog in your brain, telling you to “Let go, baby, I’m here,” you obey him.

The edges of the room start to bleed white as your body lifts, fingers gripping onto Joel’s hair, hips digging further into the cushion.

It’s only ten o’clock; for all you know, Joel’s neighbors might be out in their backyard enjoying the warm night breeze. Do you care? Fuck no. You cry his name loud enough that the whole street might hear.

He coaxes you through it, drinking in your orgasm, moaning when your walls lock around his fingers and you cover his tongue in your sweet wet.

He slips his soaked fingers from your core and you whine at the loss; Joel makes up for it by gently massaging your aching clit as you come down, spreading your cum all over you.

“That’s it, baby, did so good. That felt good, huh?”

Still coming to, you don’t reply; you feel his weight back on top of yours, his safe arms wrapping around your shoulders.

“’s okay, darlin’,” he coos as your sight starts to return. He peppers your neck with gentle, wet kisses, bringing you back to earth.

Before even you realize it, your fingers are grasping at his jeans, blindly trying to undo the button and zipper. Joel laughs, lifting his hips to give you better access.

You giggle, loosening them and hauling them past his hips, and he sits up to drag them down his legs and shove them off near your shorts.

“What now, sweet girl?”

Your voice is low, serious. Barely above a whisper.

“Fuck me.”

He almost looks taken aback. As if he never thought he’d hear those words escape your lips. Like he’d been pushing you, further and further, expecting you to always hold back, always bounce back from the edge.

And here you are, clutching his arms and hauling him over with you.

It’s where this was headed anyway, wasn’t it? You’ve fucked around with Joel three times now, and none of your clothes have ever made it off your bodies. This is a first.

You’ve never had an empty house plus the time and space to really do it. Always someone about to walk in, or someone waiting for one of you. When, if not right this fucking second?

“I want,” you breathe, fingers now taking hold of the waistband of his black boxers, “you,” you slip them down, “inside me,” exposing the base of his hard cock, “right now.”

Joel’s eyes darken just as his huge cock bounces free from his underwear.

He’s watching your lips breathe out the words like it’s all he ever wanted to hear, all he’s thought about since that first night with your hands on his thighs, looking up at him so innocently.

Just waiting to be fucking ruined by him.

You slur the words again. “F-fuck me.”

“Yeah? ‘s that what you want?”

“Mhm.”

He’s kneeling over you now, helping you tug the underwear down his legs, precum-coated tip of his cock drawing circles on your stomach.

When he’s fully naked, he presses his body against yours, speaking to you between hot, wet kisses.

“You sure you can take it, pretty girl?”

“I’m sure,” you reply, lust taking over any remnants of your orgasm. Just fucking fuck me.

Joel’s hips raise, and he looks down to guide his cock to your hole. You bring your knees up, positioning them just under his biceps.

“Good,” he mumbles under his breath.

You’re so wet that when he runs his shaft through your folds, slicking himself up, his tip kisses the entrance of your cunt, drawing a gasp from you and a growl from Joel. You’re desperate for him to just slide in, make himself at home where he belongs, between your hips.

And when he does, it’s fucking euphoric.

He’s big. You knew this already. But feeling him inside you is different.

He pushes in halfway first, letting you get used to him.

“Okay?” he asks quietly.

You nod; your voice catches in your throat as he falls out of you, just to thrust in again and let his cock dive through your soaked, swollen folds straight into your warm cunt.

He’s so big that when he bottoms out inside you for the first time, your mouth falls open wordlessly, and your brain shuts down for a few minutes. Nothing but the feeling of him slipping in and out of your cunt slowly, fucking you dumb.

When he knows you can take him, he picks up the pace, dragging his hips back and forth against yours, filling you up until his tip kisses the edge of your cervix, and pulling out until he’s between your folds again.

You’re holding onto his shoulders like you’re hanging off a cliff edge. The feeling of his hot skin under your arms is the only thing keeping you grounded right now; the pressure between your legs with each thrust of his huge cock threatening to pull you off the edge of the abyss.

When his voice breathes in your ear between his groans, you snap back to reality. Thighs burning, nails scratching, pussy throbbing reality.

“You okay, baby?”

“Mhm.”

“Let me hear you, pretty girl, tell me how good it feels.”

He’s going faster still, balls smacking against your ass every time he bottoms out, sighs and whimpers passing your lips.

You whine his name, telling him, “Harder,” and he obliges, hips snapping ever stronger. His pubic bone grinds against your clit as he thrusts, the pressure spreading spots of pure bliss across your vision.

You look down to where your bodies connect, mesmerized by the sight of his cock pumping in and out of you. It turns you on even more.

“We look good, huh?” his voice lulls from above, and you look back up to find him watching you.

He dips his head and kisses you, and you start to near your second high.

“Joel,” you mewl, the feeling so good you can’t even form the words to tell him.

He knows, anyway.

“So good, baby,” he’s panting, sweaty forehead leaning against yours, “gonna cum all over me again?”

You nod, eyes screwing shut. He’s fucking you so good you’re barely remembering to breathe.

“Let go, darlin’, let me hear you,” he whispers, and you fold.

Joel bites into the crook of your neck and lets out a loud groan as he feels your pussy clamp around him. He fucks you through it, only slowing for a few seconds to let it wash over you, then picks the pace straight back up when you quieten and your breathing calms.

You’re so fucking overstimulated, but he’s not done, and you know what he wants. You want something, too. Maybe you two could work together.

“Joel?”

“Mhm?” He’s gone quiet, chasing his own high. You hear his breathing stammer when you say it.

“Want you to do it from behind.”

“Beh–” He’s almost gasping for breath, but when he understands what you mean, he wastes no time.

Wordlessly, he loosens his grip on you and pushes himself up, dick slipping out. You moan at the feeling of emptiness as it pulls out of you.

He gives you space to turn over, helping you move further up the couch with steady hands on your hips. When you settle, he lifts your ass up.

“Not gonna last long, baby,” he tells you, and you nod. Your right ear lies flat, sweat sticking you to the leather, hands splayed out above your head gripping the cushions.

You feel him line up again, his thighs against yours. Your breathing jilts as his head pushes in, followed by his shaft, filling you up, deeper and deeper until his balls kiss your clit.

You let a deep moan pass your lips. Joel groans, hips leaving your ass, only to smack into them again as he fucks you even deeper from this position.

He’s stretching you out more than you thought possible, cock spearing into you, tears swelling across your half-shut eyes. The feeling, the pain, too good to ask him to stop, but so overwhelming you can feel every thought, every instinct, every other feeling, leave your body with every thrust.

Joel’s all you know. He’s all you want to know.

Your legs start to give, and he places his rough hands on your waist to hold you up, pumping in and out of you at a punishing pace.

“Joel…” you whine.

“I know, baby, I know. I’m there, too.”

You feel his weight pushing on the back of your thighs and open your eyes to see him leaning over you, hands placed either side of your head. You lace your fingers with his and let him fuck you, totally mindless to everything around you except for the man at your ass, pummeling his dick inside you so deep your cunt is aching.

It pushes you over the edge.

Your walls squeeze his dick, threatening to pull him over with you. Your vision blanks for the third time tonight; what energy you have left is poured into the filthy cry which escapes your lips as Joel’s hard cock splits you open.

“So tight, baby, good fuckin’ girl.”

Joel begins to falter, his thrusts become sloppy, and he pushes your ass off of him so not to finish inside you. You kinda feel disappointed, wishing he’d just stay inside and fill you to the brim with his cum.

Joel gives himself a couple more strokes before you feel his seed coat your ass, warm, dripping down the small of your back and the underside of your thighs.

You moan at the feeling of him spilling all over you, the grunts he lets slip as his orgasm washes over him. You smile dumbly at the thought that you’re the one doing this to him; you’re the one covered in his cum. You’re his, even if it’s only in this moment.

He’s panting behind you. He almost collapses on top of your back, propping himself on his elbows to keep some of his weight off.

He gently leans down and nuzzles his nose against your ear, eliciting a quiet giggle from you.

“You okay?” he breathes.

You nod. “Better than okay.”

“You sore?”

“A little.”

“Baby…” he coos, and pushes himself up.

You sigh as his weight leaves you, and you hear his footsteps pad into the kitchen. You stay put, in part to keep from staining Joel’s couch with…well, Joel, but mostly because you’re too fucked-out to even move. Too fucked to feel your thighs, your back, never mind between your legs.

Joel returns with paper towel, and softly wipes from your back to your thighs, cleaning up his mess. He massages your muscles as he goes, and your eyes shut over with the sweet feeling.

When he’s done, he rolls you over and takes hold of your ankle, pulling you down the leather to his grasp, where he puts his tee over your head and helps you feed your arms through the sleeves. The Rangers logo sits just below your chest.

He pulls his boxers back on, before taking your outstretched arms and scooping you up in his. Your head falls limp in the crook of his neck, his arms wrapped securely around your waist.

He carries you, completely dazed and fucked, out of the living room and upstairs. He makes a right at the top, down the dim hallway, past the same closet he went down on you in just two days ago, toward a door at the end. He knocks it open and takes you through.

Even in your half-sleeping state, you know exactly where you are. You’re in Joel’s bedroom.

You’ve been in here before, maybe only a couple times, when Sarah’s needed something or you’ve accompanied your dad to help repair something for Joel, but it feels different now.

It’s dark, the sun almost set on the other side of the house and the streetlights’ glow a burning orange right above Joel’s headboard.

He carries you over to the left side of the bed and lays you down in his soft sheets. He tucks you under the comforter and bends to place a long, tender kiss on top of your head.

You begin to swim in and out of sleep, waking to find him folding your clothes into a neat pile by the bedside, then again to watch him set a glass of water on the nightstand.

Your eyes are glued shut with exhaustion when you feel him lift the duvet behind you and slip in, taking your waist under his forearm and pulling you flush against his frame.

You listen to the faint sound of a cell phone dialing, and then hear his voice; soft, hushed, but still normal Joel.

“Hey, man. Yeah, no, everything’s fine. We were pretty late finishin’ up with these decorations, and then The Shining was on TV, so we stayed up to watch it. She’s pretty exhausted. I let her take Sarah’s room, I hope that’s okay?”

Your dad’s voice is faint down the line as you begin to drop off in Joel’s arms.

“Sure thing, thanks, Joel. You kick her out first thing, you hear? Don’t want her holdin’ you up for gettin’ Sarah.”

When you hear him slide his cell back onto his nightstand, you mumble something incoherent into his arm.

“What, darlin’?” Joel asks, head lifting to hear you better.

“I said, great welcome home party. Thanks.”

His lips press lightly on your shoulder, his breath hot on your skin. Whatever it is he says, you don’t hear it, already long gone to a deep, comfortable sleep.

----------

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#joel miller #joel miller fic #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #joel miller smut #fic: cowboy like me

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fan-goddess · 3 months ago

Note

I wish you would write a fic where...Aemond forces a lady at court to marry him because she used to bully him when she was young, and he wants revenge. But the sexy kind lol

Authors Note: Oh my god I love thatttttt honestly I should write for a more darker Aemond tbh don’t know why I don’t. This is less bully more torment still I hope you like it

Warnings: angst, bullies, revenge, dark!aemond, mentions of rape, not direct consent, simp!Aemond, hinted at smut but none written, (if I miss any let me know!)

Taglist: @humanpurposes @watercolorskyy @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee

When Aemond first laid his eyes on the daughter of Ser Tywin Lannister, he had no idea of the thorns that lay hidden beneath the beautiful rose.

He would find himself staring at you whenever he could, but to his disappointment, like everyone else before you, you chose to spend your time with Aegon and his little duo of puppies that were his nephews.

When he trained with Ser Criston in the training yard whilst you sat in the crowd, he worked hard to try and ensure your attention. Though everytime he looked at you, your eyes never left his brother.

After training one day, Aemond left feeling dejected due to your unspoken rejection, and walked with his head held low to the familiar route of the library. He tried to take his mind off you with some old texts on ancient Valyria before the doom, and yet with every minute Aemond tries to concentrate on his studies he found himself thinking only of you.

It’s something he found himself doing a lot recently since the discovery of your existence. He thinks of your hair and how soft it must be to feel through his fingertips. He thinks of your eyes and how pretty they look whenever he catches your eye. He thinks about how loving your soul is and the warmth your kindness would be to feel against his skin.

Aemond has never felt like he had the soul of a poet, and yet one afternoon he finds himself writing about your beauty on some paper with a quill that had been previously left at the table he sat on.

To my lady sun,

How does it feel to know that your beauty radiates more than the sun, and to be its only envy? I am sure it is grateful for night so that it is not forced to compare to you, and yet even then the jealousy does not sleep, for now the moon must be forced to bear witness to your glowing skin.

Your body is a temple handcrafted by the gods, and I am sure they watch in anticipation for their greatest creation to walk amongst its divergent brethren. With how your head remains high, I am sure you must be aware of your own greatness. So no doubt these words seem meaningless. Yet I hope they spark something within you still.

With care,

a simple worshiper

It wasn’t very good, but then again, Aemond never expected to sound like the greatest poet of the seven kingdoms. He never expected anyone to read his letters ever. But of course, Aegon went snooping and found something that didn’t belong to him that he felt entitled to take.

“Did you really think she would love you?!” Aegon laughed, dangling one of the pieces of paper before Aemond while he tried desperately to grab it before you came and saw it.

“Why would she want a dragon less twat like you when she could have me?”

“What’s going on?” A very familiar voice spoke, a horror filled jolt going down Aemonds spine as he turned to confirm his horror. Lady Lannister stood there as beautiful as ever with your brow furrowed in adorable confusion, and your eyes trained on the paper still in Aegons greasy grasp.

“My little brothers turned into a poet my lady! Just look at what he’s had to say about you!” Aegon laughs while Aemond once more tries desperately to stop him. But with just a simple shove to the floor Aemond is weak and helpless as you take the paper in hand and begin to read.

And when you finish, Aemond feels his heart shatter into a thousand pieces as you begin to laugh at him.

“Did you think I would thank you?” You begin, that once delicate smile turned poisonous as you slowly make your way over to him still laying where he fell. “You were right about one think little Prince. These words are meaningless. But they’re especially so coming from a boy like you. Still, I must thank you for this little Prince, as at least I’ll have something to laugh at when I’m bored.”

Aemond feels the tears brim against his eyes and for the first time since falling he gets the strength to stand and run away. The sound of yours and Aegons cruel laughter echoing through his mind as he does, with a vow of revenge brewing behind it.

“My Prince regent, with this new position, there is a matter of marriage I must bring forward.” Lord Wylde begins, an edge to his voice as he knows the delicacy behind it all.

It’s been years since the embarrassment of his writings, and yet Aegon and you as well had made sure to bring it up almost everyday before you traveled back home. Whether that is by a memorised line from one of the pages or with seemingly innocent words with hidden meanings and a not so hidden smirk, Aegon and you had deployed them all to make Aemonds life miserable.

Aegon continued though long after you went away, and Aemond supposes that’s what made the act of burning him all that sweeter. To know the taste of revenge against one of the ones who hurt him was as sweet as honey against his bitter tongue.

“Borros Baratheon has four unwed daughters who-“

“I have made my decision already in who I should have by my side as my wife my lord.” Aemond interrupts, a ghost of a smile on his face as he thinks of the lady in question and watches the lords at the table furrow their brows. My my how fun was it to watch the rats fumble like a puppet show.

“And who is this lady my prince regent?”

Aemond smirks at Ser Tyland, who sits there unaware of what is about to occur to his family.

“I intend to marry your very own niece Ser Tywin. The young, and I am correct in presuming still unmarried, lady Lannister.”

Silence radiates through the council room as all attempt to process the news Aemond has just released to them, while Aemond himself is just sitting there like the dragon who ate the hatchling.

“My Prince regent, I-it is an honour!” The man stutters out, knowing if he didn’t say anything it would be much more worse for him.

“As it should be Ser Tyland. Tis an honour to be wed to a member of house Targaryen. I trust you to be the man to call for your niece, but please, do not tell her the reasoning. I wish for it to be a surprise that I myself shall tell her, if you would do be the honour?”

“Of course my Prince. I shall write to her soon as we finish this meeting and request for her to arrive the beginning of the next week.”

Aemond would’ve preferred her to arrive on the morrow, but he supposed he shouldn’t be too picky. You’re coming back to him. That’s what he chooses to focus on.

The rest of the week though he waits in anticipation for your arrival. He thinks of you constantly, but unlike him as a boy, he doesn’t write these thoughts down on a paper. At least Aegon can’t steal his thoughts.

Aemond though must confess he is anxious about seeing you. The last time he had, you’d embarrassed him and made him feel worthless. But now, he is no longer that scared little boy who you tormented. Now, he is the Prince Regent of the seven kingdoms. And he has the power to take what he wants and do what he wants.

And what he wants is to take you. He has a plan on what he wants to do, and he thinks of it every day since that council meeting.

Aemond Targaryen wants to defile you and leave you with nothing. Perhaps he’ll even force you to be married to some old lord who’ll use you for a boy or two. Or send you to the citadel and make you become a septa. It all depends on how he feels at the moment he supposes.

Yet on that first day of the new week when he’s standing in the courtyard and seeing your golden carriage pull up, sick anticipation curls and builds in his gut like a fearsome storm.

“Little prince?” You say as you get out of the carriage, sending Aemonds inner storm into an all out raging war.

“That is Prince regent to you little lion.” He snaps, relishing in the way you frown at his words.

“Where is my uncle? In his letter he said it was of upmost importance and to come with haste to Kingslanding today.”

“Ah yes little lion I know of the letter he had delivered to you. I was the one who requested it to be sent. Let us go somewhere more private so we can discuss it.” Aemond purrs, walking forward so he can get his hand on your lower back and lead you into the keep.

You do not protest to his sudden demands, yet still he finds humour in your confusion still.

Aemond as he walks makes sure that servants and ladies alike see him leading you to a room with no chaperone. Or more specifically, see him leading you to a room with a bed.

“What is it you wish to tell me, my Prince regent?” You ask, emphasising the title just to tease him for sure.

“I wish to congratulate you my lady!” He smirks, watching your face further contort in confusion.

“Congratulate me? Congratulate me on what?”

“On your marriage my little lion of course.” Aemond finally reveals. He watches your face turn in its final form, and he’s delighted to know your fire has not been yet destroyed when fury takes over your entire body.

“Who?” You demand.

“It’s me.” Aemond simply says, watching with even further delight what that once dragonlike flame instantly vanish for cold hard horror.

“You?”

“Yes. And I shall take my wedding present now I think. I believe it is what I deserve for what you did to me all those years ago.” As he speaks, Aemond begins to slowly prowl towards you like a predator stalking its prey towards the bed.

“That was years ago!” You shout, looking at him in shock.

“And yet I never forgot what you said.” He simply says, pushing you backwards so with a yell you fall backwards on the bed and look at him with fear in your eyes.

Good, he thinks, you should be scared right now.

He wants to make the oh so proud Lannister she lion be reduced to a mere mewling kitten, and all by his hand alone.

“I suppose I must ask,” he begins, leaning forward and forcing your body to be pressed against his own. “Have you had anyone touch you? Just by looking at you I can think your maidenhead has been given to some poor impressionable lad thinking only with his cock.”

You stay silent initially, but he has ways of making you talk. Including but not limiting to him using his dagger that was strapped to his side to tear your dress from your body.

“Just a stable boy…” You finally confess, gasping as Aemond moves to firmly grip at your upper thighs with a growl on his own lips once he forces the delicate fabric away to reveal you to him.

“Tell me his name.” Aemond demands, his singular eye firm as he forces you to look at him. “I shall rip off his hands and his cock myself for dare touching what is rightfully mine to claim. For what was meant to be taken by me all those years ago.”

“Are you saying you’ve thought of me?” You attempt to tease, only realising your mistake when he answers with a serious tone.

“Of course. I have thought of this moment endlessly. The idea of me ruining you for all has always delighted me, just as much as the idea of actually fucking you does to me.”

And with that, whether you called for him to stop or keep going, he continued with his plan. He ravished you senseless committing the sound of your voice to memory. The guards outside he had posted in order to bear witness to your taking also most likely memorised them, but he’s comforted by the fact he’s going to kill them by the end of the week.

His mother yells at him later that day about how selfish he’s been and how much like Aegon he is being. But the thought comforts him when he thinks of what Aegon had and what he now possesses.

The crown. The people. The power.

He has it all and he’s able to throw it away at the drop of a hat.

From what Aemond has heard, after he had announced to the entire court he would not be marrying you due to your broken maidenhead, you were condemned back to casterly rock and are being prepared for a marriage to a lord from the stormlands named Riordan Rael.

Form what he has been told, Lord Rae is an elderly man long since due for a meeting with the stranger who has yet to father any children from his other past seven wives that have all tragically died young.

Aemond does not care for you anymore now that his revenge has been thoroughly completed. Even if he has had several letters in the last moon detailing the fact you had given birth nearly two months early to a babe with hair as pearly as the moon.

For the power is all his, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. Not unless they want to be put to his sword and taste his Valyrian steel.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #ewan mitchell #aemond #aemond one eye #prince aemond #aemond targaryen/reader #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond fic #Prince Aemond Targaryen #hotd #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #my works #I wish you would

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kuroosdarling · 1 year ago

Text

STORMY NIGHTS — ༉‧₊˚.

ft. roomie!mattsun !

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI. fem. reader, unprotected sex, praise, minimal prep tbh, oral (f!receiving), fingering, slight cervix fucking, creampie, light dose of aftercare — WC : 2.6k

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : after you and matsukawa started your roommates with benefits situation, the two of you have been taking full advantage of it. but tonight, it’s a little different. as the storm rages on outside, you’re doing everything in your power to keep the one inside you at bay. at this point, it’s hard to say whether the thunderstorm or your ever growing feelings for matsukawa are scarier.

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : im insane for this man atp. roommate mattsun lives in my mind rent free sigh. anyway, i hope y’all enjoy this !! i have more ideas for this guy so stay tuned !! and thank u for reading <3

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

the room fills with a bright flash of light, washing over your walls and illuminating every dark corner. within a few seconds, thunder pierces the silence. you couldn’t help but try and bury yourself under the blankets. storms like these were the worst.

the ones that rudely declare its presence in the middle of the night, ripping away any chance at a good night's sleep. the deafening booms ensure a restless night filled with dread knowing that tomorrow will drag on with exhaustion. thunderstorms could be nice, but right now, it has you shrinking further and further into your bed.

another loud noise went off, but it wasn’t thunder this time. you bolt up in your bed, staring at mattsun who was standing dumbly in the doorway, his hand still lingering on the doorknob. it was clear he didn’t mean to bust it open like that, but the damage was done.

“do you mind?” you screech out the last word, your heart beating out at your chest.

“i promise i knocked.” he walked in, chuckling with his hand shoved deep into his pockets. he was wearing those stupid gray sweatpants again and if you weren’t so scared right now, your mind would’ve wandered to what happened the last time he wore those. he knew you liked them and wasn’t afraid to sport them around the house. constantly. “seriously, relax, i just came in to check on you.”

“by scaring the shit out of me?” you huff as he climbs into the bed next to you. you cross your arms at the ease of it all, trying to keep your breathing still. at least you could chalk it up to the thunderstorm making you nervous and not the fact that he was inching closer to you.

“that was an accident.” he rolls his eyes. “you know your door gets stuck.”

“yeah because you and makki tried to play jackass and totally fucked up the lock.” the thunder sounded off again but it was mixed with mattsuns laugh. you tried to focus on that sound instead, not realizing you were leaning into him.

“you got me there.” he gives you a lazy smile before looking around. he knew you were scared and were just trying to keep a brave face. “why don’t we go in the living room and watch a movie? we can bring out our blankets and stuff.”

“yeah-“ the thunder cut you off, the lightning flashes throughout the room, casting a fleeting light over mattsuns face. you look at each other for a moment, your eyes holding back so many words that your lips wish to say. but instead you cower from the loud noise and the weight of your own feelings.

“alright let’s go.” he throws the blanket over you like a cape, the warm fabric wrapping itself around you like a safety net. immediately, he’s picking up the rest of your pillows and blankets, waiting for you to walk out of the room first.

you lead the way, taking your time. he follows you out into the room, throwing the pillows down on the floor.

“hey!” you snap at him, hurrying your way over to pick them up.

“what? we’re gonna lay on the floor.” he said like it was obvious. your eyes trail from him to the couch before you roll them.

“alright, fine. go get your stuff then.” you start arranging the pillows and blankets to a makeshift bed. he goes to his room without another word, hurriedly grabbing his stuff before the next thunder sounds off.

he tosses the pillow against your head, causing you to stumble forward. you whirl around, glaring at him as he holds up the other pillow with a goofy grin.

“are you really trying to have a pillow fight with me right now?” you scoff.

“not much of a fight though, is it.” he shrugs, moving closer. your eyes widen as you scoop up the pillow, turning to whack him against the head. he starts laughing, utterly amused at your attempt.

“shut up.” you sigh, as you move to sit down. mattsun looks panicked for a moment, so split that if you weren’t already looking at him you would’ve missed it. unbeknownst to you, mattsun was trying his best to distract you from the storm outside, trying to keep your attention on him.

“alright let’s put on a movie, yeah?” he throws down his pillow next to you, it landing with a soft thud before he practically flops onto the mountain of blankets youre perched on.

“what are we gonna watch?” you ask, trying not to look at the raging storm outside and instead focus on the one brewing deep within his dark eyes.

as soon as he turned on the tv, it blew out. in fact, all the lights in the apartment went out. the slight ticking noise of the AC filtering out before thunder overpowered it, booming throughout the room, causing you to smush yourself further into mattsun’s side.

instantly, his arm is around you. “hey, it’s alright. let me light some candles.” he presses a soft, comforting kiss against your head before getting up, making sure the blanket is safely covering you in his absence.

luckily, you had candles stored all throughout the shared apartment. he carefully took them out as well as his trusty lighter. he went around the room lighting each one, racing against the storm. your eyes didn’t leave him. soon enough, the warm glow filled the otherwise dark space, doing its best to combat the bright flashes from outside.

“there.” he said, looking somewhat proud of his job well done before he turned to look at you, almost surprised to see your eyes already set on his. you sat up, the blanket falling off of your shoulders, pooling around your waist. he slinks over to you and sits down on the blankets, easing you down with him as you lay side by side. “it’ll pass soon, im sure of it. just focus on me, okay?”

“okay.” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. it was a miracle if he heard it at all. the thunder continued to roar outside and he felt you start to tremble in his arms. he looks at you again, slowly moving in to kiss you on the cheek.

“focus on my lips,” he says, starting to place sloppy, opened mouthed kisses along your neck. your sleep shirt — or rather, his t shirt– slips down your shoulder, leaving it bare. mattsun wasted no time as he trailed down your neck, leaving more kisses along your exposed skin before making his way back up.

and whatever he was doing — it was working. instead of focusing on the lightning bolts crashing down outside, all you could do was melt from the kisses he laid upon your skin.

his deft fingers find your chin, pulling you in closer so he can properly kiss you on the lips. he was always a good kisser, taking his time as if it would be a crime not to. molding his lips to yours, savoring each bit as you easily find your rhythm together.

even though the kiss wasn’t explicitly passionate, it still left you breathless all the same. each slow caress stole more oxygen from your lungs until you were practically gasping for air. but he didn’t let up, sliding his hand up your thigh as his lips press against your neck.

thunder clashed overhead again, causing mattsun’s hold on your thigh to grow tighter, using it as leverage to pull you flush against him as his own legs slot between yours.

“gonna prep you now.” he mumbles against your neck. his fingers grab a hold of your flimsy sleep shorts and pulls them all the way down, along with your underwear. you gasp out but he swallows it, consuming your air once again.

“already so wet f’me.” he murmurs in your ear, his lips resting on your lobe. he quickly slips another finger in, pumping both of them quickly to try and stretch you out, relishing in the way you squirm under him.

once the small whine left your lips, he couldn’t hold back anymore. giving you one last peck and sliding down, placing a kiss on each of your thighs before his tongue began to tease your folds.

mattsun could lay between your legs for hours if you let him, taking his time to savor you, having you come undone around him again and again until your thighs trembled around his head. it was his salvation, the answer to his prayers, the fix he needed to get through the night.

but he didn’t have that much time tonight, not when you were in desperate need of distraction. your fingers tugged on his hair, causing him to groan out into your cunt. the vibrations sending you closer to the edge. it was too much — his hips stuttered against the blanketed floor, begging for some sort of relief.

“issei-“ you breathe out. mattsun curses the thunder for trying to eat up your sweet sounds, but he moves back up to you so he can press his lips against yours.

“yes?” he asks, slipping a finger past his waistband and sliding off his sweatpants so he can free his aching cock. he needs to feel you. your breath hitches as it nudges against your thighs, his cock already wantonly twitching the moment he comes into contact with you.

“please, i’m ready.” you squirm in his hold, reaching down to wrap your hand around him. he hisses out in pleasure, his forehead knocking down onto yours as he feels his whole body succumb to you, his craving for you becoming too irresistible.

“okay.” he lets you guide him to your entrance, his tip pressing against your clit and trying to soak up all the slick and spit on your messy cunt. his hand wraps around yours, using it to guide him into you quicker, slowly pushing in.

the stretch always took a second to adjust to once he was fully seated in your warm cunt, buried at the hilt. his size was no easy feat to take, the overwhelmingly sweet pleasure always accompanied by the slight sting of pain. and he was always so patient, softly peppering your skin with kisses. but tonight, you were too impatient for all of that, desperate to feel him. so you start moving your hips, catching him by surprise.

“slow down.” he grips onto your hips tightly, stilling you in place so he could properly collect himself. you pout up at him, not thrilled about having to wait any longer but you humor him. “i’ll give you what you want, don’t you worry, pretty.”

“then get on with it.” you breathe out as he pulls out of you – his tip nestled back at your entrance. he can feel you clench around him, strategically pulsing in a silent command to hurry up. before he starts, he cages you in his arms, pushing back in and lazily moving his hips with shallow thrusts. a small teasing smile takes up his face at your attempt to be demanding.

“don’t get all bratty on me now, i was just getting started.” his hips start to move faster, his cock practically kissing your cervix. each of his thrusts blurring your thoughts together, your mind growing dizzy from the intense pleasure. he looks at you and chuckles, watching your eyes roll to the back of your head in amusement. “you just wanted to be fucked dumb on my cock, is that it?”

“n-no.” you say, turning your head away from him in slight shame. but he barely lets you as he cusps your chin and pulls your attention back onto him.

“you’re lying now?” the smile on his face turns dastardly and you can’t help but moan as he pulls you tighter to him. feeling him stretch you out, overpower your senses, brings you closer as you teeter on the edge.

the thunder roared outside, but you barely heard it as it melted away in the background. it causes you to jump a little bit but you’re secure in mattsuns arms, his hold tightening. his pace doesn’t relent, in fact, it only speeds up. a softer look graces his features as he remembers what he was trying to do – distract you.

the candlelight caresses his face, intimately wrapping itself around his skin in the way that had you envying the soft light. to be that close to him, to share that space, you wanted more. it’s all feels more soft, muted, like he’s really taking care of you.

you clench around him, causing him to groan as you squeeze his cock, barely letting him pull out. he could never keep his cool around you for too long.

“you’re so fucking pretty. how’d i get so lucky, huh?” he pulls you in closer, pressing up against you as if the air between you two was intruding in your space.

every time his skin touched yours, something new planted itself in its place, running deep through your veins, directly to your heart. no matter how many times you tried to starve it, neglecting to nourish it — it continued to grow to the point you couldn’t bury it anymore.

you loved him.

and it terrified you.

but it also drew you closer to your edge.

“sei-“ you call out, your fingers gripping the blanket as you arch your back, your chest pressing against his. you can feel your thighs tightening around his hips, his large hands cupping your backside as he practically lifts your bottom half up to meet his thrusts.

you’ve never felt him this deep, like his cock was lodged all the way up inside of you, piercing your heart. you could barely speak, just babbling his name and letting out mewls of pleasure.

he was fucking you dumb but not dumb enough, as those feelings you’ve been trying to hide slips through the cracks and your faced with the horror of loving him — or rather, the horror of possibly having your heartbroken by him.

“getting close?” he grunts down at you, his voice raspy and streaked with desperation. you brave yourself to look up at him through half lidded eyes, barely able to open them up all the way. you can feel him twitch inside of you as he lets out a groan — teetering on his own edge but adamant to feel you come undone around him first.

“yes, so, so close-“ you cry as his fingers find your clit again, lightly brushing against it and causing you to spiral down, to a paradise or the depths of hell — you didn’t know. all you knew is that you wanted him to come with you as you clutch onto him, dragging him with you as he fills you up with his cum.

he falls to his elbows, careful not to put all of his weight onto you. he kisses you softly, even though he couldn’t catch his breath. he didn’t want to pull out just yet, but knew that he wanted to clean you up.

with one last kiss to your head, he slides out and hisses at the sting of overstimulation. sliding his pants back on, he quickly makes his way to the bathroom. he’s back in another second with a towel, carefully cleaning you up and sliding his shirt back over your head.

you lay there, letting him take care of you as your hazy mind starts coming to again, swirling with many questions that you decide to wait and face them in the morning. for now, it was just nice to soak up all the affection he was giving you.

“i’m gonna blow out the candles, okay?” he asks you softly. you nod, letting him to his thing before he comes back to you and cradles you close to him, getting settled for the night.

even though the thunder had long since died out, neither of you moved. too lost in the sanctuary of each other's arms, creating a warm, safe space where you could both let your guard down, even just a little bit.

mattsun kisses your head gently as you nuzzle further into him. the two of you drifting off into a peaceful sleep, comfortably wrapped up in the blankets and each other's unspoken love.

and in the morning, when makki awoke to see his best friends curled up together on the floor, he didn’t say anything. he just quietly smiled to himself and retreated back into his room.

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