#his eyes are gorgeous and his lips are very kissable

[angel-teeth]

I rented Blood for Dracula and Flesh for Frankenstein from movie madness this weekend and goddam I forgot how gorgeous Udo Kier is.

[kenobion]

Andrew Garfield - Tick, Tick...BOOM! Q&A

[cvnt4him]

Think’n ab cock warming izuku

A lazy Saturday morning, he has to get up later to finish some papers but that's a problem for later izuku. You wake up earlier than him for the first time ever, you admire his beautiful features whilst hes in slumber land.

His forest green hair being portrayed in the most beautiful lighting, said lighting brightening up his face despite being asleep, he's such a bright person he doesnt even need the suns array of beautiful sunshine for that. His slightly chewed lips dry yet so plump and kissable, the freckles that popped out more due to the sun's colors beaming on his beautifully tanned skin. He was gorgeous.

You leaned down to plant a gentle kiss onto his sleeping face, cupping his cheeks as you do so. The touch on his face makes him jolt and try and scoot away, his eyes squeezing shut and annoyance being painted on his features, he groans and tries to pull away but only to stay in the same place due to you holding his face.

Izuku was annoyed and opened his slightly crusted eyes to see your face, his eyes immediately softened. Finally being able to see his gorgeous emerald green eyes, you smile in content. He hums and closes his eyes again before you pepper kisses all around his face.

“ good morning~“

You sing in his ear, making him hum once more. He didn't want to be awake, izuku wanted to lounge around all day and be lazy with his other half before he had to go and teach a bunch of noisy kids, who he did love dearly.

“ you're always awake before me! I'm surprised I managed to get up before you!“

Izuku peers his eyes open slightly to look up at you with furrowed brows in annoyance, he groans and rolls his eyes before closing them again, all you can do is giggle at your adorable husband. You scoot in closer to him and squeeze his cheeks making him huff.

Izuku then sits up and yanks you into him making you bury your face in his chest. Your eyes widened in surprise but you weren't exactly complaining. He holds you close with a tight grip ensuring you can't move even if you tried.

“ go t’sleep baby. ’know you're tired, j’s get some rest hon.“

Izuku lazily gets out, his speech slightly slurred and his voice raspy and groggy do to the morning. He was a morning person, by all means but sometimes all he wanted was to be lazy with his significant other, and you seem to be ruining it by touching him whilst he's trying to sleep.

“ ’zuku m’not tired.“

“ shut up.“

Trying with all of your might you manage to squeeze out of his arms and roll onto of him making him turn over on his back, he groans and looks up to you with angry eyes ones you never really seem to see.

“ can I cockwarm you?“

His once angry eyes were now wide and confused. You wake up and the only thing on your mind is dick? Really? He groans again with a blush to his freckled and still baby-like cheeks, a scar on his right cheek. He was hesitant, he really was fathoming it, debating, thinking about it, whatever you want to say he truly was.

Izuku was having a hard time deciding, he did want you to do that to him only because he was particularly pent up, you two hadn't had sex in about 3 weeks? Thats far too long for someone like izuku, he would never force you to do something of the sort, normally you initiate sex and he happily obliges, but you both have been very busy recently and haven't had time to do much more than hold each other when nightfall returns at the end of everyday.

Izuku finally had an answer, he gulps and looks back up at your happy and waiting eyes. You would've been okay with either answer, really. You just wanted him to be inside of you. With a blush still on his cheeks, he nods to you before looking away.

“ I want a verbal answer my love.“

He sighs at your words, eyes shutting as he clears his throat trying to get rid of the grogginess of the morning time.

“ yes, you can c... cock.. warm me...“

Izuku manages to get the confirmation out as you giggle and lay down beside him, confused he follows you insuit, you scoot back into him and pull down his sleeping shorts just enough to get his flaccid cock out. You stroke him a little trying to get him to harden up, gentle tugs at his fat and heavy cock in your hand, the weight of it is always nice but the stretch is always better. The thought alone brung a smile to your face.

Izuku watched your movements closely, admiring the way you were so sweet and gentle with his member, so careful with such soft movements it made him twitch in your hand. With that, you knew he was ready. He gulped as you turned around and pulled your underwear to the side scooting back onto him and pushing his cock inside of you.

You both wince and groan and make some kind of noise as he tries to push his way inside, you were tight and he felt just how much so, going straight to his head as he gulped down hardly. His brain was getting fuzzy from the intense squeeze to his cock, you really should've prepped yourself first. with a couple of minutes waiting you finally manage to get him inside, he bottoms out almost immediately he's always so needy and impatient when it comes to things like this he ended up thrusting into you making you fall forward and moan.

“ zu what are you.. doing?“

You ask slightly out of breath, he was choking on his breath trying his hardest not to absolutely ram his cock in and out of you like he knows he needs. God izuku was so horny he just wanted to fuck you so badly.

“ s- sorry.. hon I- ngh~...“

He sentence was ended by a muffled groan, you really were squeezing his cock so tight. You take breather and scoot back into him, his cock still being buried deep inside. It makes him moan softly into your ear as you get closer, a beautiful noose that you always welcome and are always pleased to hear. He hums in a whiney tone on accident, getting extremely red when you laugh at the desperate sound escaping your poor husband.

You sigh happily as you can feel his heavy cock stuffing you full, twitching occasionally when you pulse around him. Izuku held you close wrapping his hands around your stomach, he buried his face in your neck trying to lull himself back to sleep, you intoxicating smell so sweet and driving him absolutely feral. He tried so hard to go back to sleep but he was having a hard time, his cock was so deep inside of you and only getting deeper as time passed yet he wasn't fucking you. Not like he wanted to.

Izuku sighed desperately and defeatedly as he looked down at you only to see you asleep with a smile on your face. For fucks sake. There was no way he was getting back to sleep, and absolutely no way hes not blowing his load deep inside of you.. if he even gets to cum.

[wheresarizona]

but he’s the one I want

summary: All you needed was to see if your dad’s friend, Joel, had a spare key to your father’s house. Instead, you get railed within an inch of your life on Joel’s couch. 

His brown eyes squeeze shut. “Lord help me,” he says under his breath. A second passes, and then he’s looking at you. “Fuck it—I’m already goin’ to hell.” Joel’s large palms grab your face, pulling you in to crush his lips against yours, muffling your surprised sound. 

pairing: DBF!Pre-Outbreak!Joel Miller/College Student f!reader (no physical descriptions)

rating: E (18+!!! No y/n, DBF!Joel Miller, slightly possessive Joel Miller, pre-Outbreak, age gap, explicit consent, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, dirty talk, size kink, praise kink, spit as lube, overstimulation, sex on stairs, body worship, slight body insecurity, getting caught, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, Die Hard is a Christmas movie debate) 

word count: 11.5k+

a/n: Alexa, play “But Daddy I Love Him” by Taylor Swift. I don’t know where this came from (daddy issues), but I hope you enjoy it! Reader is freshly 21 in my head, Joel is 35 (it’s months before his birthday), and Tommy is 29. Let me know what you think! Big shoutout to @devineconjuring for going on this journey with me and betaing!

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs feed me. I’d love to know what you thought!

Main Masterlist

Knock, knock, knock. 

It’s a Friday night; the sky is dark, but the porch light is on. You hug your jacket a little closer to your body to stave off the chill in the air as you wait outside the front door for someone to answer it. A masculine voice calls out, "Comin’!" Footsteps thud on the hardwood floor as they head your way. 

Seconds later, the door is cracked open, and you’re met with the home’s owner, Joel Miller. Just the sight of him in his jeans and navy blue t-shirt has your heart rate picking up in speed, the man looking as handsome as ever. 

His eyebrows furrow in confusion when he sees you. 

"Hey," he greets. "What are you doin' here? Shouldn't you be in school?"

University of Houston—go, Cougars!

You smile. "Three-day weekend—I have Monday off. I thought I'd surprise my dad since it's his birthday." 

The confused look doesn’t disappear. "I coulda sworn he told me they were goin' to Vegas to celebrate a few days ago." ‘They’ being your father, stepmother, and your teenage half-brother.

“Well, I guess it slipped his mind to tell me they were going out of town. He must be getting forgetful in his old age.” 

The relationship you have with your father is… complicated. It’s not bad by any means—you get along and love each other. He just wasn’t very present when you were growing up—he lived in Austin while you were with your mom in Houston, only seeing him a few times per year. Now that you have a car and your mom moved out of state last year with her new husband, you occasionally made the three-hour drive to your dad’s to visit and do your laundry free of charge. It was also where you now stayed on your breaks from school.

Joel opens the door a little wider and crosses his arms over his chest, your eyes moving from his face to admire the broadness in his shoulders and the muscles in his forearms. Having his full attention on you makes the nerves in your belly flutter around like a bunch of butterflies were let loose. 

“He’s not much older than me,” Joel says. His eyebrow lifts. “Are you callin’ me old?” 

The man in question happens to be one of your father’s best friends—or so you’ve been told. In all of the visits to your dad’s growing up, you could count the number of times you saw Joel on one hand. Over the past year that you’ve been coming to Austin regularly, you’ve had much more interaction with him, which has led to you developing a little bit of a crush. Who can blame you, though? He’s gorgeous—the chocolate-colored eyes, the hair that looks so soft, that perfect nose, and those kissable lips. 

“If the shoe fits,” you reply with a shrug and a smile. 

“Kids these days,” Joel grumbles under his breath, shaking his head. “Did you come by just to call me old?” he asks. 

“Oh, no. I was expecting at least one person to be at my dad’s, so I didn’t bother bringing my house key. I’m here to see if you possibly have a spare I could borrow—I would’ve called, but I don’t have your number.” 

Maybe he’d give it to you now…

“I’m sorry, darlin’, I don’t.” 

Hot and a sweetheart—how is he single? Is he single?

You frown, feeling annoyed that you drove all this way to Austin for no reason. You should’ve called ahead, but that was your mistake, assuming your family would stay in town for your father’s birthday. “This was a waste of gas,” you muse. “Love that for me. Well, it looks like I’m heading home, or maybe I’ll get a cheap motel room. Thanks anyway, Joel. Have a nice rest of your night!” You do a little wave at him. 

You start to turn, but stop when he says, “Wait,” and you face him again. He opens the door wider. “It’s too late for you to be drivin’ all that way, and there’s no reason you should pay for a motel when I’ve got a guest room you can stay in. You can get a good night's sleep and leave tomorrow mornin’ when the sun’s shinin’.” 

Again, a sweetheart—why hasn’t anyone snatched him up? Or have they?

“Are you sure?” you ask. 

He finally offers you a friendly smile and moves to open the door all the way. “Yeah, it’s no problem. I was feelin’ lonely anyway with Sarah gone at a sleepover. It’ll be nice to have some company that isn’t my brother.” 

Lonely? Nice to have some company? That sounds pretty single to you. Your night just got a lot more interesting. “Thank you so much! I’ll do my best to be better company than your brother.” 

With that, you make your way inside, toeing off your shoes next to a pair of his work boots.

“That won’t be too hard,” Joel says as he shuts the door. 

You stop in the entryway because you’re not quite sure where you should be going since you've never actually been inside his house. You only know where he lives because your father once asked you to drop something off here. 

“Let me get your coat and bag.” You hand him your small purse, and he moves behind you, helping as you shrug off the long jacket you’re wearing, which he hangs up on a nearby coat hook with your bag. “Oh.” He stops in his tracks, and you look at him, seeing his widened eyes staring at your body. “Were you plannin’ on goin’ out tonight?” 

You glance down at your outfit, and you can understand why he’d make that assumption at the sight of the cute little black dress you’re wearing—it only reaches mid-thigh and has a V-neckline to show off your breasts.

“Not going out—it’s laundry day. I do my laundry when I come to Austin, and this was literally the last clean thing I had.” Your eyes lift to see his glued to your chest, and you think that’s an interesting development. “I have spare clothes I keep at my dad’s that I planned on changing into.” 

It’s the truth, and you’re a little thankful this was your last clean outfit. You can only imagine how embarrassing it would’ve been coming over here in a ratty old T-shirt, granny panties, and your Spongebob Squarepants pajama pants. 

He clears his throat and looks away. A rosy blush appears on his cheeks as he scratches at the back of his neck. “I can put my jacket back on,” you tell him, not wanting to make him feel uncomfortable.

“No, no.” He meets your gaze, offering a reassuring smile. “It’s fine—do you need to use my washer and dryer?” 

“You’re already being nice, letting me stay over. I can wash my clothes at the laundromat when I get home.” 

“It’s really no big deal.” 

“Thank you, but I’m good.” 

“Okay.” His hands go in his pockets, and he seems to get very interested in the short console table against the wall, staring at the contents lying atop it—a stack of unopened mail and what you assume are his keys and wallet.  

“So, what were you doing before I interrupted your evening?” 

“Oh—” He looks at you again. “—I was watchin’ a movie. Would you like to join me?” 

You smile. “Sure—lead the way.” 

He takes you to the living room, where a movie is paused on the television, and lets you know you can sit anywhere. Your choices are one of two armchairs and a maroon leather sofa, and you choose the sofa while he heads for the kitchen. 

“Would ya like a beer?” he calls out on his way to the other room. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond because a second later, he’s back at the doorway to the living room with a confused expression again. “Wait, are you old enough to drink…?” 

The question makes you smile. “Yes, Joel. I’m old enough to drink.” 

“Legally…?”

You giggle. “Yes. I can legally drink. You wanna card me?” 

“No.” He runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Beer?” 

“Sounds great.” 

“Okay.” He nods. 

As you sit on the couch waiting, you become very aware of the situation you’re in. You’ve spoken to Joel one-on-one a handful of times over the last year, but it always happened at a barbecue or a holiday party—places where there were other people around—you’ve never been alone with Joel. This is new territory, and you’re not entirely sure what to expect, especially considering how he was staring at your chest. 

Would you fuck him if given the chance? Yes, zero hesitation. Do you think you have a chance with him? Maybe, and that thrills you. Just two things are working against you: your age and the fact he’s your father’s best friend. Those are two hurdles you’re not entirely sure how to get over, but you’re definitely game to try. 

Your conversations were always friendly in the past, and you’re proud to say you’ve made him laugh a few times. You think you could possibly charm him. What you know for sure is he’ll need to be very aware that you’re interested; otherwise, he won’t even fathom trying anything with you—thank god you’re wearing this dress. Nerves are swirling in your tummy at what could happen tonight, and you’re eager to see where things go. 

Joel returns with two open bottles of beer, handing you one, and you thank him as he takes a seat right next to you. He leans forward to grab the remote and hits play before sitting back and taking a drink. 

He’s so close to you that you get a whiff of his cologne—it has a spiciness to it and some citrusy notes that, when combined, smell amazing. It makes you think he took a shower when he got home from work today—and, suddenly remembering he’s a contractor, you imagine him shirtless and sweaty while using a hammer. The thought causes your mouth to go dry, so you lift your bottle to your lips for a sip, focusing on the TV. 

It’s easy to figure out what he’s watching when you see Josh Hartnett in clothes from the 1940s. 

“Pearl Harbor?” you ask, now holding your drink on your lap, picking at the label with your fingernail. 

“Yeah.” His head turns your way, his beer resting on his thigh. “Have you seen it?” 

Meeting his eyes, you answer, “Oh, yeah.”

He frowns. “Because it’s a girly movie?”

“Um, kinda? The guys are pretty easy on the eyes, and the story is interesting. I wouldn't say it’s super girly. Sure, it’s a romance, but there’s so much action and drama about the war in it.” 

“The back of the DVD said nothin’ about it bein’ a romance.”

“Are you enjoying it, at least?” you ask. 

He sighs and looks back at the television. “Yeah, I am.”

“Then enjoy it! If anyone asks what we watched, I’ll tell them Die Hard.” You lightly pat his thigh closest to you, feeling the muscles tense under your palm. 

His gaze returns to you. “You’ve seen Die Hard?”

“Yes. A few times.” 

Because it’s your dad’s favorite movie. 

His upper body slightly turns your way, his arm going behind you on the couch. The closeness and the attention he’s giving you make your skin heat. 

“I want you to settle somethin’ my brother Tommy and I disagree on—have you met Tommy?” 

“Once.” At a barbecue. He didn’t catch your attention like Joel did. “What am I settling?”

“Do you think Die Hard is a Christmas movie?”

“What…?”

“Tommy is fuckin’ convinced that Die Hard is a Christmas movie, and I say it’s just another action flick. A good one, but definitely not a Christmas movie.”

It takes you a second to process what he asked. 

“I mean,” you start, “it takes place on Christmas Eve, at a Christmas party, and I’d say it’s a Christmas miracle that John McClane happened to be there to save the day. So, yeah, it’s totally a Christmas movie.” 

“You’re fuckin’ with me. Just ‘cause it takes place on Christmas Eve at a Christmas party doesn’t mean it’s a Christmas movie.” 

You point the neck of your beer at him. “You forgot John McClane being a Christmas miracle. Makes sense to me that it’s a Christmas movie.” 

He takes a deep breath. “So, are you tellin’ me that—what the fuck is that movie called?” His eyes leave you as he thinks, trying to remember the name. “Lethal Weapon!” He looks at you again. “So, you’re tellin’ me that Lethal Weapon would also be a Christmas movie? Have you seen that one?” 

Yep, with your father. 

“I have, and yeah, it’s a Christmas movie. You’ve got drug dealers using a Christmas tree business as a front, Christmas is mentioned all throughout, they use a bunch of Christmas songs, and it ends at Christmas dinner. Absolutely a Christmas movie.” 

“Say you’re messin’ with me, darlin’. You know what a Christmas movie is, right? 

“Yeah, you’ve got the heavy hitters—It’s a Wonderful Life, A Christmas Story, A Christmas Carol—then those stop-motion ones that are delightful. I’d put Die Hard and Lethal Weapon in the same category as Home Alone.”

“Why the hell do you think Home Alone is a Christmas movie?” 

“It’s set during the holiday season, and there’s a ton of Christmas imagery and music. Plus, you’ve got Kevin going on a similar journey as the main character in It’s a Wonderful Life where, in the end, he realizes how much he loves and needs his family—sounds pretty Christmas-y to me.” 

His jaw clenches, and it’s seconds before he inhales deeply and looks back at the TV. 

“Son of a bitch,” he sighs, shaking his head. “They’re fuckin’ Christmas movies.” He takes a long drink of his beer. 

You grin. “They are indeed,” you reply and pat his thigh again. 

His bottle lowers, and he looks over at you. “Even though you somehow made a dumbass like Tommy make sense, you’re definitely better company than him. He’d never let me live this down.” 

He’s visibly relaxed, and you have, too. The fact he’s enjoying you being there has calmed your nerves, and you’re having a great time talking to him. Plus, he’s nice to look at.

“Then it’ll be our secret,” you say. “Like how we’re totally watching Die Hard right now, and not—” Your eyes go to the TV, and they widen. “—the one sex scene in Pearl Harbor.” It’s nothing too risque and honestly kind of lame. 

Joel looks, too. “They’re just rollin’ around on the ground…” 

“It’s PG-13, Joel. I don’t know what you’re expecting from a movie where they can only say fuck once, and titties are prohibited.” 

His head turns your way. “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he says, and when your eyes land on his, you find that he’s smiling—your heart skips a beat. 

“A good something or a bad something?” 

“A good somethin’.” 

You share his expression. “You’re something else, too.”

“A good somethin’ or a bad somethin’?”

“A very good something.”

His eyes darken, and suddenly, his attention returns to the movie. Joel clears his throat, then chugs the rest of his beer, leaning forward to set the empty bottle on the coffee table. 

When he sits back, his arm is still behind you on the top of the couch, and he scoots the tiniest bit your way to have your bodies touching. 

It’s clear that there’s a shift to the energy in the room, and the tension becomes palpable—he likes you, and you think there’s a possibility he more than likes you with how close he is. The thought has your heart pounding, and you’re unsure what to do next. You’ve only been with boys your own age, and Joel is so much older and more experienced. 

The panic has you blurting out, “Are you seeing anyone?” Then, backpedaling, “Not that it’s any of my business, so don’t feel obligated to answer.” 

He looks at you, and you keep staring at the TV, almost wishing the floor would swallow you whole. 

“Why do you wanna know?” 

“I’m nosy.” 

He huffs in amusement. “You only wanna know ‘cause you’re nosy?” 

“That’s what I said.” 

“No other reason?” 

“Can’t think of any.” 

“Okay—no, I’m not seein’ anyone. What about you? You got a boy back in Houston worryin’ about you?” 

“Nope.” 

“Really?” The genuine surprise in his voice has your head turning to see the matching expression. 

“What’s so shocking about that?”

He frowns. “I beg your pardon, darlin’. It just doesn’t make much sense that someone as pretty and fun as you doesn’t have a line of boys waitin’ their turn to take you out.” 

Those butterflies in your stomach are flapping around again. 

“Not really.” You shrug. “Plus, the guys my age usually only want sex but aren’t very, um, giving, if you know what I mean.”

Now he looks grumpy. “Selfish boys,” he grumbles, and it makes you smile. 

“So, not an issue with someone older like you. Good to know.” You squeeze his thigh and keep speaking so he can’t reply, “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you single?” 

For some reason, he can’t look at you now, focusing on your hand. He reaches across his body to grab yours with his larger one, staring at your fingers. He lets out a long, weary sigh, his thumb rubbing against each of your dark blue-painted fingernails. 

“Women don’t particularly like that Sarah is the most important person in my life and my top priority…”

“But she’s your daughter, she should be your top priority.” 

“That’s the logic, but they want me all to themselves and don’t like sharing.” 

“Joel?” 

His face lifts to meet your gaze. 

“Yeah?” 

“You’ve dated some truly shitty women.” 

He smiles. “I guess I have. It doesn’t matter anymore. I’ve given up on datin’. It’s just a waste of time.” 

“That is such a shame.” 

His dark eyes get even darker. “You’re trouble.” 

“Why am I trouble?” 

His eyebrow arches. “Your daddy would kill me.” 

Your brain short-circuits for a second as you take in the statement—he’s into you, he’s really into you. Now, what are you going to do?

“Don’t you remember, Joel?” you ask and move to put your beer on the table. When you sit back, you cuddle a little closer into his side. “You were worried about me driving home in the dark, so you offered me your guest room—we watched Die Hard, then turned in for the night. You’re a stand-up guy for keeping your friend’s daughter safe.” 

His eyes move from yours to your mouth, his hand coming up to cradle the side of your face—his palm is so big his fingertips almost reach the back of your head. He starts leaning in, your heart hammering in your chest at the thought that he’s going to kiss you, and you stop breathing when his lips are only a hair’s breadth away from yours.

And then he pauses. 

“Tell me why you really came here tonight,” he rasps. 

That confuses you, your brows pulling together, and you sit back to see his face. “I did? I needed to see if you had a spare key to my dad’s house.” 

His eyes are on yours. “Bullshit—there’s no way this just happened to be the last outfit you had.” He looks directly at your tits. 

“It is if you wait super last minute to do your laundry, and I told you, I have other clothes at my dad’s. Why do you think I came over here?” 

His gaze goes back to yours. “With that dress you’re wearin’ and how you keep lookin’ at me, for a lot more than needin’ a key.” 

“You thought I came over here to seduce you…?”

“Yeah…?”

“Wow.” You gently pat his cheek. “You think I’m way bolder than I actually am—me coming here and the outfit was not premeditated.” You shake your head. 

His eyes round, and you’d think he was burned by how quickly his hand leaves you and how he moves away a little to put space between you. “Fuck, have I been readin’ this wrong?” 

You scoot to have yourself against him again. “The assumption I came here specifically to seduce you was very wrong. But you’re right that I definitely want you to fuck me, Joel.” 

“Shit,” he breathes out and scrubs a palm over his face. “You’re gonna get me in so much trouble.” 

Turning his way, you rub your hand along his jeans-covered thigh. “No, I’m not,” you tell him. “Stop thinking, and kiss me.” 

His hand lowers. “Not thinkin’ is gonna get me killed.” 

“Not thinking is going to get you a blow job and pussy.” You press your palm between his legs over where you can feel he’s already hardening. “Hell, I’ll sweeten the deal—you can come anywhere you want.”

His eyes go wide. “Jesus Christ,” he whispers, and you smile. His reaction makes you brave. 

“Tell me you don’t want this, and we’ll go back to watching the movie and pretend nothing happened. Or—and I like this option more—you kiss me, and we’ll go as far as you’re willing to go.” Your hand moves up to hold his cheek, and it’s a good sign when he leans into your touch as you stare into his eyes. “But I’m going to make myself crystal clear, Joel. I want you—badly.  You’re beyond sexy, and the fact you’re older and have a lot more experience than me is a big turn-on. I’d love to know what good sex is like for once and maybe have you teach me some things.” You shrug your shoulder. “It’s up to you, though. Just know I’m more than willing.” 

His brown eyes squeeze shut. “Lord help me,” he says under his breath. A second passes, and then he’s looking at you. “Fuck it—I’m already goin’ to hell.” Joel’s large palms grab your face, pulling you in to crush his lips against yours, muffling your surprised sound. 

This kiss is unlike any you’ve experienced before. You’re used to overeager boys practically shoving their tongues down your throat the first chance they get, yet here’s Joel claiming your lips—you can feel his every want and his desire for you with how thoroughly he kisses you. The soft pillow of his mouth moves with yours, his scent filling your nose—hints of the beer he drank and his spicy cologne imprinting this moment in your mind. Your eyes flutter closed, and your head goes dizzy from the arousal igniting in your belly. 

Just one kiss and you know you’re ruined for anyone else. 

His arms go around you, and he mouths at your chin. “Come here,” he says against your skin. “Get in my lap.” 

You do as you’re told, bunching up the bottom of your dress at your waist and moving to straddle his thighs. His hands go under your clothes to grab your ass, and he’s so surprised to feel bare skin he leans back with the confused expression you’re becoming intimately familiar with. 

“You really didn’t come over just to fuck me?” he asks. His palms wander, and you know he’s discovered your thong when he hooks a thumb under its stretchy waistband—they were the last clean pair of underwear you had. 

“I really didn’t.” You’re curious about something. “But if I had, what are the chances that I would’ve succeeded…?” 

“With this dress and a little convincin’? Pretty good.”

You smile. “Really?” 

“Yeah. You’re so fuckin’ beautiful and smart. I know this is a bad idea, and it’ll probably bite me in the ass later, but I’m so fuckin’ lonely, and you’re just too damn temptin’ to pass up.” 

The truth is clear in his eyes and makes you kiss him—your fingers comb into the hair at the back of his head, finding it softer than you thought it’d be. It starts off slow and tender, just lips to lips, until Joel deepens it, the tip of his tongue making it past your lower lip. Hearing that he’s lonely tugs at your heart, and you want to do everything you can to make that loneliness disappear. Things start to heat up, and all you can do is follow his lead, moaning as he explores your mouth with his tongue. With his palms on your backside, he helps you rock your hips, grinding yourself against his hard cock beneath his jeans, rubbing your clit just right to fan the flames growing in your core. 

When you finally need to come up for air, his hand grips your chin to turn your head as you pant, Joel kissing and nipping at your skin from the base of your neck up—tingles wash down your spine when he nibbles on your jaw. He gently bites your earlobe, and you gasp when his hot breath tickles your ear. 

He huskily whispers into it, “You want me?” His hand fondles your breast. 

“Yes.” 

“I can touch you?” 

“Anywhere.” 

“I need you to be a good girl and tell me when you do and don’t like things—understand?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good girl,” he purrs. 

The way those two words make your cunt clench has you moaning, ”Fuck.”

He easily unzips the back of your dress, tugging the garment up and over your head, letting it fall unceremoniously to the floor. You’re sitting astride his lap, the dark pools of his eyes taking in your mostly naked body, his big hands massaging your bra-covered breasts. It’s surprising that being under his gaze, you don’t immediately feel self-conscious, and you think that has to do with how he’s looking at you—the desire and appreciation clear as he admires you.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, nodding towards what he’s touching. 

“Yes.” 

He sits up straighter, and it’s quick work for him to get your bra off, it landing on top of your dress. He’s focused on your tits, holding them in his palms, weighing them. He leans forward, sucking your nipple into his mouth, and the sudden shock of pleasure has your breath catching in your throat, your fingers grabbing handfuls of his shirt for something to hold onto. When he grazes his teeth over the stiff bud, your entire body shivers—your panties have a wet spot from your pussy leaking your arousal for him. He gives your other breast the same attention, leaving your skin shiny from spit when he comes off of it with a wet pop to look at you. 

“Lie down on the couch, baby.” He pats the empty seat next to him. “Your head all the way at the other end.” 

He doesn’t have to ask you twice. You scramble out of his lap, the couch’s leather creaking as you crawl over to where he instructed and sit back on your elbows to see what’s happening. Joel grunts as he gets up to stand, watching in interest when he squeezes the noticeable bulge at the front of his jeans. His arm goes behind his head to grab his shirt, pulling it up and off of his body to bare his torso. 

At seeing so much of his golden skin, your jaw goes slack—his freckled chest is so broad, tapering down to his trim waist, his abs showing a little bit of muscle definition you think is from doing manual labor and not working out. Your eyes fixate on the happy trail of hair below his belly button that disappears beneath the waistband of his jeans.

“Sure could get used to you lookin’ at me like that.” 

That has your attention snapping up to his face, where you find him smirking, and you close your mouth. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, your eyes darting away from him. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry about, darlin’. Makes me feel pretty fuckin’ great about the shape I’m in.” 

You look at him again. “Hate to break it to you, babe, but you’re in great shape and so hot—you’re really down to fuck me?” You point at yourself. 

He kneels on the sofa by your feet, his hand on the back of it to steady himself.

“Darlin’, if I didn’t know your daddy, and you were a stranger I met in a bar, I’d bring you home in a heartbeat. I feel like a real lucky son of a bitch that someone as young and pretty as you has any interest in an old guy like me.” He lifts one of your legs and gently kisses the inside of your ankle, the sweetness of it making you melt a little. 

“Oh, I’m very interested in you.” 

“Is that so?” he asks and spreads open your legs. He crawls over you, and you lie back, Joel nestling his hips between your thighs for you to feel how hard he is as he dips his head, kissing up the column of your throat—the nerves in your stomach flutter wildly. 

“Yes,” you whisper and need to touch him, wrapping your arms around his torso to press your palms against the warm skin on his shoulders—his body shudders, a rumbling groan coming from his chest. 

You squeak in surprise when his lips are suddenly on yours, kissing you hard. 

He takes over all of your senses—he’s all you see, he’s all you feel, he’s all you taste, he’s all you hear, he’s all you smell. It’s him, and him alone—his lips on yours, his tongue in your mouth, his weight on top of you. Your fingers thread into his hair, moaning as he takes over your very world, reveling in this feeling of being wanted. 

His lips leave yours, both of you breathing a little heavier. His teeth gently sink into your chin before kissing along the underside of your jaw. 

He speaks into your skin, his words muffled, “I’m very interested in you, too. I shouldn’t be, but I am.” His mouth ends up at your ear, and he quietly asks, “Can I eat your pussy?” 

“Oh.” The question surprises you. “I’m usually the one who asks. Do you want me to blow you first?” There was always a quid pro quo when it came to oral. 

His head lifts to look you in the eye. 

“Darlin’?”

“Yes, Joel?” 

“You’ve been with some truly shitty boys.” 

It makes you laugh, and he smiles. 

“Ain’t that the truth,” you reply. 

“It should always be ladies first—may I?” 

What a gentleman. 

“Absolutely.” 

“Good,” he says and pecks you on the lips. 

He doesn’t immediately move off of you, and it catches you off guard. Instead, his mouth blazes a trail, kissing down your body—your neck, your chest, and your belly. This is when your self-consciousness rears its ugly head. Joel is getting up close and personal with your imperfections—your scars, stretch marks, cellulite, all those little details you normally kept hidden in the safety of dark rooms or under shirts when you hooked up with someone. Now, you’re basically naked, the lamp is on, and he can see it all, which makes you feel uneasy. 

He kisses just above your belly button, then below it, going lower and lower until he places one last kiss on your panties, over your mound. He sits up on his knees, tracing the lines and curves of your thighs and hips with his large palms while he drinks you in as you lie there—you have to fight the urge to cover yourself, unable to meet his gaze.

The silence is broken when Joel speaks. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.” 

Your eyes seek out his face where you don’t find any deception, but you have to ask, “Really?” 

“Really.” He nods. “Fuckin’ gorgeous.” 

His attention goes to the apex of your thighs, and the pink of his tongue swipes along his bottom lip as if he’s imagining how you’ll taste. He strokes the pad of his thumb over the visible damp spot on your underwear, his other hand squeezing his cock that’s straining in his jeans. 

“I bet you have the prettiest pussy, too,” he says, and gets his fingers under the elastic waistband on your panties, pulling them down and off your legs, the air cool against your now bared skin. He shuffles back a little, then bends forward, spreading your lips open with two fingers as his face hovers over it. You think your heart might beat out of your chest with how fast it’s thudding, your skin feeling so hot. “I fuckin’ knew it, such a pretty pussy,” Joel murmurs. He circles your clit with his thumb, and the pleasure has every muscle in your body tensing and your eyes closing. “You’re gonna taste so good.” 

He loudly groans as he drags the flat of his tongue along your cunt, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking.

“Oh, god,” you moan, your body squirming at how good it feels. 

Joel has to pin down your hips with an arm across them to keep you still, his face buried in your pussy. He goes straight to the source, lapping at your entrance to taste your arousal while the tip of his perfect nose rubs against your bundle of nerves, his facial hair prickling your skin. 

Oh. 

Oh no. 

You’re fucked. 

It’s not even a minute in, and you can already feel your orgasm taking shape low in your belly, the muscles beginning to wind up. If you thought the first kiss ruined you, you know you’re ruined by how eagerly he’s eating you out—who knew this could be so good? You have to wonder how you’ll ever be able to fool around with anyone else when Joel is all you’ll be able to think about or compare it to—this is the only moment doubt invades your mind. You feel like this is all a mistake, but it’s quickly squashed by how unbelievably horny and curious you are. 

His mouth lifts, and you whine at its loss. “Gimme a second,” he pants. “I gotta see how tight you are.” That’s when one of his thick fingers presses to your soaked opening, and he slowly starts to push it inside. 

The slight stretch makes you gasp his name, your fingers clawing at the sofa’s maroon leather.  

“Christ,” Joel says. “You’re squeezin’ me. With how fuckin’ tight you are, I’d think this is your first time.” 

You sit back up on your elbows and open your eyes to look at him. 

“You just have massive fingers, and it’s been a while.” 

His gaze meets yours as he smirks. “Well, I’m gonna loosen you up with my massive fingers, and I think you’ll enjoy it.” 

He doesn’t wait for you to respond. His head dips, flicking his tongue side-to-side against your clit when you feel the sudden pressure of his second digit pushing into you—there’s even more of a stretch and the delicious feeling of being full. You fall back on the couch, tangling your fingers into the brown waves of hair on his head, moans falling unbidden from your lips. His digits crook as they pump in and out of you, sliding along your upper wall when they press into something that elicits white-hot pleasure, making you keen and wiggle under the hold he has on your lower half.

Yeah, you’re totally and completely fucked. 

He’s relentless with his mouth and fingers as you careen toward your end, free-falling in the throes of pleasure. He’s really going to get you off, and you think you might be in love with him. Is that crazy? Falling for the guy you absolutely should not fall for—that you can’t even have any kind of future with—because it’d ruin both of your lives, especially his. 

Why does that make you want him more? 

You definitely understand now why Eve ate the forbidden fruit—the temptation leads to such sweet gratification when you give in. 

He sucks your throbbing clit into his mouth, sweeping his tongue around it, and you can hear the wet squelch of him fucking his fingers into your cunt. Your thighs are trembling—you’re so close, the coil inside you winding tighter and tighter until it snaps, and you’re coming with an unintelligible cry. Your body seizes up, euphoria exploding out from your center, radiating to your fingers and toes. Joel removes his digits, his tongue taking their place to catch every bit of your slick he can get, groaning as he lets no drop go to waste. 

You’ve never come so hard, feeling a little floaty as you ride out your high, your chest heaving heavy breaths. With how shaky your arms and legs are, you’d think you were out in the freezing cold. 

Joel’s mouth comes off of you and he sits up, rubbing his hands along the outside of your legs. 

“Such a good girl for me,” he says. “Was it good?”

“Was it good?” you parrot back at him and push yourself up into a sitting position. “It was more than good, Joel—oh my god, it was amazing.” 

The bottom half of his face glistens in the lamplight, his shiny lips turning up in a smile. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yes.”

“You still wanna fuck?” 

“I think I will die if you don’t fuck me.”

He chuckles, and that’s all the answer he needs. He’s off the couch instantly, and you watch as he hurriedly unbuckles his belt and gets his jeans undone, shoving them and his boxers down his legs so fast it makes you giggle. He’s balancing on one foot, peeling off his sock, and you finally get a good look at his dick—it’s hard and bobbing between his legs, the tip flushed red and shiny from precum, and your eyes round at how big he is. 

“Second thoughts?” he asks, taking off his other sock. 

Your gaze rises to his, seeing he’s frowning. “No.” You shake your head. “It’s more, ‘I sure hope that thing fits inside me.’” 

He crookedly smiles, his chest puffing up a little. “It’ll fit—I promise.” And he has the audacity to wink at you. 

Just as quickly as he got off the sofa, he’s getting back on it, kneeling in the space between your spread thighs. His attention is on your pussy, rubbing the tip of himself against your swollen clit and through your wetness. Nerves swirl in your belly, along with arousal, his free hand giving your hip a reassuring squeeze before he’s spitting on his fingers and slicking up his cock. He notches himself at your entrance, and your heart is in your throat as you hold your breath.

“Just relax, baby,” he says. “You can take me.” 

He slowly starts feeding his hard length into you, making you gasp when the fat head breaches your slick cunt, your eyes squeezing shut, your fingers digging into the couch’s leather cushions. A groan rumbles from his throat, and you answer with a drawn-out moan as he burrows his thick cock deep inside you, your tight walls stretching to their limits to accommodate his size. Full doesn’t even begin to describe how stuffed you are—he’s hot inside you, almost searing, and you can feel him pulsing. He bottoms out and goes completely still, his hands on your hips in a bruising grip.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he rasps. “You okay?” His thumbs stroke circles on your skin. 

“Yes.” It comes out as more of a squeak. “I just need a second.” 

“Of course, sweetheart.” 

Darlin’, baby, and now sweetheart when his dick is inside you? Is he trying to make you fall in love with him?

He bends at the waist, one hand on the couch holding up his weight while the other massages your breast, his lips wrapping around your pebbled nipple, the sparks of pleasure going straight to your pussy. Your fingers wind up in his hair; what he’s doing to you has you whimpering at how good it feels and only makes you wetter where you’re joined. He pulls each of your legs up to rest on his ribs while his mouth moves higher, kissing your sternum and up the arch of your neck, sucking on your pulse point and making you squirm underneath him. 

His hands end up on either side of your head, his lips leaving behind a wet streak of kisses along the hinge of your jaw to finally ghost over yours—you can feel his breaths and smell your musk. He’s so close it wouldn’t take much more for your mouths to meet. 

His nose nudges yours. “Need more time?” he whispers. 

Enough has passed that you don’t feel as overwhelmed. You slide your palms up his back to his shoulders. 

“No,” you answer just as quietly. “You can move.” 

He pulls out almost all the way and pushes back in as his mouth claims yours, muffling your sounds when he sets up a rhythm of long, hard strokes. You’re gone—all rational thoughts go out the window, and the only thing you can think about is how his cock is moving in and out of you. It’s so distracting you’re having trouble kissing Joel back because your brain keeps screaming, ‘so big, so full, so good.’ 

You’re feverishly clutching at his shoulder blades, your nails leaving crescent moon imprints and scratches you’re sure will bleed on his golden skin, Joel moaning into your mouth. It surprises you when you feel the familiar tension of another orgasm making itself known deep in your core, the pressure rising with each thrust, the angle of them causing him to slide against spots you never knew existed, and you don’t ever want this to end. 

His lips leave yours, pressing his forehead to your cheek. He’s breathing hard, sweat beginning to bead on his skin as he keeps the same pace. 

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he pants. “Fuck, I’ll never get enough of this pussy. Just wanna stay inside it until my dick is all it knows.” 

Your legs are quivering, your body is burning up, and you can’t get enough of how fucking good this feels. One time—one time—and you’re addicted, you’re drunk on the pleasure and will do anything—anything—for this to happen again. 

“It’s yours,” you gasp. “Oh, god, it’s yours!” 

His lips move to your ear, huskily asking, “It’s mine, baby? Your pussy is mine? I’m fuckin’ ya that good?” 

You’re so out of it and lost in the lust you start babbling, “Yes, it’s yours—fuck, ruin me,” you whine. 

“That’s what you want, for me to ruin your perfect little pussy?”

“Please—make me feel it. Make me ache to have your cock inside me again. Make me yours.” 

He growls, and you think you’ve said the wrong thing because he’s immediately pulling out, your eyes springing open in time to see him sit up on his knees. 

His big hands grab hold of your waist. “Flip,” is all he says, and you find yourself getting manhandled onto your front, Joel tugging you up onto your hands and knees. He wastes no time sheathing himself back inside you, pushing in so deep that your eyes roll back in your head and your toes curl.

Joel’s hips are flush against your ass, the full length of him seated all the way inside of you—you can’t think, your mouth open in a silent cry. He’s filling you to the absolute brim, and it becomes evident your cup has truly runneth over. 

He was right, though. It did fit. 

A shuddery breath escapes you. He only allows you a moment to get used to the new fullness before he’s pulling out until just the tip of him remains and snapping his hips forward hard enough it knocks the air from your lungs—this is how you learn what it’s like to really be fucked, and fucked good. 

His fingers dig into the skin on your waist, pulling you back as he thrusts forward at a pace that has you lightheaded, stars dancing behind your closed eyelids each time he presses against that heavenly spot inside you. 

Warmth grows in your belly, the sounds from the TV overshadowed by the filthy cacophony of skin hitting skin and the audible wetness of his cock working in and out of your used cunt—he’s grunting with each stroke, your moans stuttering from the onslaught.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks through gritted teeth, emphasizing each word with a hard thrust. 

It’s a struggle to gather your thoughts and form a response with how good he’s fucking you. 

A palm lands on the side of your ass in a loud smack, the sweet sting causing you to clench around him and whimper. 

“Answer me, sweetheart,” he says. “Is this what you wanted?” 

All you can gasp out is a single word. “Yes!” 

“Am I fuckin’ you good?” 

“Yes!” 

He’s pounding into you at a near-brutal pace, the fire inside you only getting hotter as each second passes. 

“Look at me,” he orders. 

It takes everything in you to turn your head and look over your shoulder. Joel is a sight to behold—a flush rising from his chest to his cheeks, the sweat on his skin making it glisten under the lamp’s light, and his hair sticking wetly to his forehead. His eyes are heavy-lidded and glazed over, his jaw clenched. 

He slows, his gaze on yours. 

“You wanna be mine?” he asks. 

“Yes.” 

The moment your answer leaves your lips, he’s blanketing your back, holding himself up with a hand on the couch, the other going under you to palm your breast and tweak your stiff nipple with his fingers. 

He lightly bites your earlobe, his facial hair scratching your cheek when he kisses it. 

“I’m gonna make you come,” he says through heavy breaths. “Then I’m gonna fuck you full of me—you want that?” 

A shiver moves through you, and you gulp. 

“Yes.” 

“Good girl.” 

His hand smooths down your front over your stomach to between your legs, where he starts circling your clit with two fingers. It’s like a live wire along your spine, electricity sparking in your core—that added to the sensations of his cock splitting you open and pushing in and out of you has you rocketing toward your release. 

“You gonna come for me?” His hot breaths fan over your ear. “You gonna let me feel you come all over my cock? Come on, let me have it—come for me.” 

Joel’s bent over you, fucking into you harder and faster, his fingers deliciously swirling around your throbbing bud as he grunts in your ear with every thrust, all of it driving you higher and higher to your end. 

You’re so worked up that it doesn’t take much to have you falling over the edge—the muscles in your belly pull tight, your orgasm ripping through you, gasping Joel’s name. He sucks in a breath when your pussy clamps down on him, then loudly groans, continuing to fuck you through your high, and doesn’t stop—his fingers keep up their assault on your clit, and his hips snap into you in quick, short bursts that extend your high. You come, and come, and come to the point your arms give out, and your body shakes and twitches from all of the pleasure coursing through it. 

When you think you can’t take any more, relief washes over you that Joel follows suit. With one last thrust, he buries himself all the way to the hilt inside you as he falls forward, his front framing your back, his teeth sinking into the meat of your shoulder. He comes with a dirty, rumbling groan—you feel his dick thicken and pulse, hot spurts of his spend filling you. He grinds his hips, fucking it as deep as it will go, then stills.  

The movie’s ending credits are playing, hearing the music and your and Joel’s ragged breaths as you both come down. He’s at the same awkward angle as you, with your hips up and your faces down—his sweaty chest is pressed to your back, your bodies sticking together everywhere they touch. It’s not the most comfortable position, but with how your limbs tremble, you’re not entirely sure you can even move. 

You asked him to ruin you, and oh boy, did he deliver—you’re absolutely, positively ruined. It kills you that after whatever this night is, you’ll have to go back to subpar sex with guys who couldn’t find the clit if they were given a map and detailed directions. This is the second time tonight that you fear you’ve made a grave mistake hooking up with Joel, and the post-sex clarity is not helping the situation at all. 

What were you thinking?

That’s easy; you weren’t. Or, at the very least, you weren’t thinking with your brain. Your pussy took the lead on this one, and it looks like she’s gotten you into a bit of a situation. 

Your thoughts are interrupted when Joel’s arm wraps around your middle, and he turns you two onto your sides, the couch just barely wide enough to fit you both. 

“Tha’s better,” Joel slurs, nuzzling his face into your hair. His hand over your stomach feels around until he finds your smaller one, lacing your fingers together and holding it to your chest—oh, he’s cuddling with you. It’s unexpected and nice. You close your eyes and enjoy this taste of intimacy. 

Many minutes pass before he mumbles something you can’t make out. 

“I’m sorry,” you start and are immediately embarrassed by how hoarse and scratchy your voice sounds from all the sounds you made tonight. You clear your throat and try again, “I’m sorry—what did you say?” 

He turns his face so it’s out of your hair. 

“I asked if you wanna stay over,” he says. 

You smile. “Are you getting forgetful, Joel? You said I could stay over when I got here.” 

“Fuckin’ smartass,” he grumbles, and you giggle. “What I meant was, do you wanna stay in my room? With me,” he clarifies. 

“Only if you’re okay that I sleep naked—I’m not wearing my dress to bed.” 

“Was kinda hopin’ you’d be naked.” He kisses your shoulder. “But if you’re more comfortable wearin’ somethin’, I can get you one of my t-shirts—it’s no big deal.” 

“It baffles me that you’re single.” 

“Why?”

“Uh, because you’re incredibly sweet, amazing in bed, a great father, very handsome, hardworking, and just an all-around catch. If I had the opportunity, and you know, there wasn’t the elephant in the room—” The fact he’s much older than you and one of your dad’s best friends. “—I’d date you in a heartbeat. If you ever give dating a shot again, you’re going to make one lucky woman very happy.” 

“Fuck,” Joel groans, letting go of your hand to press his palm to his face. “What the hell am I doin’?”

That makes your stomach drop, and you frown—he’s regretting everything, and you can’t blame him. The post-sex clarity is a real bitch sometimes. 

“Stressing for no reason,” you reply. You’re pretty sure you can walk, so you get up from the sofa, ignoring how wobbly your legs feel and his come leaking down your thigh. “Don’t you remember, Joel?” you ask, looking toward the floor for your clothes. “You let me stay the night ‘cause you were worried about me driving home in the dark.” You carefully bend down to pick up your thong, followed by your bra and dress. “We watched Die Hard,” you continue, straightening to stand. “Then turned in for the night to our respective bedrooms. You’re a real stand-up guy for caring so much about your friend’s daughter’s safety.” 

You can’t even look at him, focusing instead on the TV where the Pearl Harbor DVD’s menu is on screen. 

“Stop that.” 

“Stop what?” 

“Tryin’ to pretend nothin’ happened.” 

“You clearly wish nothing happened, so nothing happened—where’s the bathroom?” You need to clean up, and you’re tempted to just leave altogether. 

“Up the stairs, second door on the right—when the hell did I say I wished nothin’ happened?” 

“You didn’t have to. Your ‘what the hell am I doin’?’ was enough for me to get it.” You hug your clothes closer to your body. “Anyways, thanks for tonight. I think I’m just gonna use the bathroom and get out of here. I don’t want you to worry, so I’ll stay at that cheap motel by the highway.” The sign said it was twenty-something dollars a night, and you can swing that. You start heading toward the stairs. 

“Hey, stop.” You don’t. You keep walking, willing the unshed tears in your eyes not to fall. 

Why are you so upset? You’re well aware that this can only be a one-time thing. It was something fun and sexy where you got to fuck the older, unattainable guy you’ve been crushing on for a while. It wasn’t anything serious, and couldn’t be anything serious, because there’s no future for you two together. Not when he’s a good friend of your father’s. That kills any chance of having a relationship with Joel. 

What hurts is he regrets it and wishes it never happened—you’re a mistake, and who wants to be someone’s mistake? 

His heavy footsteps sound behind you. “Darlin’, stop,” he says again, and you continue ignoring him. Fingers latch around your bicep and lightly tug. “Please, stop for a second. Talk to me.” Finally, you do as he’s requested, standing still in front of the staircase. He turns you to look at him in his big brown eyes, his hands holding your arms. 

“I don’t wish nothin’ happened,” he says. “You were talkin’ about how if things were different, you’d date me, but since they are the way they are, you won’t. I was thinkin’ to myself ‘what the hell am I doin’ wishin’ you’d change your mind,’ when I know it’s for the best.”

“Oh—really?” 

Hope swells in your chest, butterflies fluttering around in your tummy. 

“Yeah.” He nods. “Tell me you want nothin’ more to do with me, and I’ll grab you a towel and some of my clothes so you can wash up and retire to the guest room unless you’re truly set on stayin’ in a motel. In that case, I’ll pay for your room somewhere safer and much nicer, so I know you’ll be okay. Or—and I like this option more—you kiss me, and I’ll take you up to my bedroom so we can shower, either together or separately, whatever you’re comfortable with. Then we can get into my bed where we can talk and figure things out.” 

It sounds like he doesn’t want this to be a one-time thing, either, and that makes you so happy you let your clothes fall to the floor to throw your arms around his neck, crashing your lips to his. Joel groans, his arm sliding behind your back, hugging you closer to him, his other hand cradling your cheek. Suddenly, he’s backing you up until your heels hit the first step, and he guides you to sit on a higher one, Joel kneeling on a lower stair to be at the right height that his hips slot between your thighs when he lays you back. He licks into your mouth, deepening the kiss, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades. 

With how good he made you feel tonight, how wanted, you need more of him. There’s a looming fear in the back of your mind that this is too good to be true—that you’ll never be with him like this again, which makes you desperate for him. Your hand snakes its way between your bodies, taking his half-hard cock into your palm, slowly stroking it—a low rumble comes from the back of Joel’s throat. He gets his hand to the juncture of your thighs, sliding his fingers through the puffy lips of your sex, gathering your arousal and his come on his fingertips to rub at your swollen clit. 

“You’re mine,” he says into your lips. 

“I’m yours,” you answer. 

This is how you end up fucking on the stairs, Joel thrusting into you at a pace that has your toes curled and your fingers gripping his ass—your spine tingles from his mouth exploring your neck, mapping out the spots that make you gasp and moan, and you’re in heaven. 

A door slams shut on the other side of the railing, and your eyes fly open.

“Hey, Asshole!” a man calls. 

Joel’s hand covers your mouth, and you watch the intruder walk through the dining room to the kitchen without seeing you. 

“I brought over pizza so you can stop bein’ a sad and lonely sonofabitch!” 

Joel immediately pulls out and gets off you, using his strength to help you flip over. “Upstairs,” he whispers, tapping you on the hip, and you go as quickly and quietly as you can with Joel following. 

You make it to the second-story landing, and he grabs your hand, tugging you all the way down the hall into what you know is his bedroom by how it smells like him. He closes the door and locks it before beelining to his dresser, roughly pulling out one drawer from which he grabs a burgundy t-shirt, then another that he gets a pair of stretchy gray sweatpants. 

“Is this a dress?!” Is yelled from downstairs. “Do you have a girl over?! Who’d wanna fuck your sorry ass?!”

Surprisingly, the clothes in Joel’s hands are not for him; he shoves them into your arms and ushers you over to his bathroom. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, flicking on the light, the fan automatically turning on. “It’s Tommy. Stay in here, and I’ll kick him out.” Obnoxiously loud footsteps are coming up the stairs, and he has to take a deep breath, his eyes to the sky like he’s praying God will smite his brother right this second. “Lord, give me strength,” he breathes. 

“Where would you even meet a girl?!” Tommy asks from the hallway. “All you do is work—you never go out.” 

Joel pecks you on the lips. “I’ll be right back—stay in here,” he tells you again, and this time, he leaves, shutting the door behind him. 

There’s banging on the bedroom door, and your ears perk up as you put on the clothes. 

“Go home, Tommy,” he says. 

“Not until I know who this pretty dress belongs to.” 

“Give me that—it’s none of your fuckin’ business. Leave.” 

“Come on, Joel—we know the same people. Did you finally give in to Nikki? She’s wanted to go out with you for a long fuckin’ time.” 

“No, and it’s still none of your fuckin’ business who I have in the house I pay for. So, get goin’, or I’m gonna make you go.” 

“You can be a real dick, Joel. Why are you bein’ so fuckin’ secretive?”

“Do I ask about who you take home from the bar?” 

“No, but—”

“Exactly,” Joel interrupts. “I don’t give a fuck what you do in your spare time, and I sure as hell don’t need to tell you what I do in mine, so leave, Tommy—I’m not in the mood for your bullshit.” 

“With how fuckin’ grouchy you are, I don’t think you got laid at all—I’m gonna get goin’ ‘cause you clearly need the company of a woman. Bye, mystery woman with the pretty dress hidin’ in Joel’s bathroom!” he yells. “Hopefully you can cheer this fucker up! Enjoy the pizza!” 

It goes quiet, and you think Joel left the room, too. You can’t go anywhere, so you decide to take in your surroundings—the bathroom is cleaner than you’d expect from a single man, you have to put the toilet seat down when you pee, and as you’re washing your hands, you notice there’s only one toothbrush in a cup. 

You know you shouldn’t snoop, but you pull open the medicine cabinet and find an extra tube of toothpaste, some Tylenol, Ibuprofen, a thing of pain relief cream, then a shelf with a few medicine bottles that intrigues you—prescription pain pills, antidepressants, and heartburn medication. No red flags, but you’re a little worried about how much pain he’s in. You close the cabinet, and soft knocking on the bathroom door makes you jump. 

“You can come out,” Joel’s muffled voice says. “He’s gone.” 

Walking over to the door, you open it, Joel leaning against the doorframe in a white t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants he must’ve put on before talking to Tommy. 

He sighs. “So, that was my brother.” 

“Seems nice—if I remember correctly, he’s younger, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“That explains how annoying he is.” 

He smiles, and an amused huff leaves him. “Yeah, he’s annoyin’ alright.” 

“We have the house to ourselves?” 

“We do—I walked him out myself.” 

You grin. “Wonderful.” You grab a fistful of his shirt. “Because I think you said something about us showering together, and I’d like to do that right now, then go eat pizza—I’ve somehow worked up an appetite,” you tell him and pull him forward; he happily comes your way with a smirk. 

“Worked up an appetite, huh?” he asks, his eyes on your mouth. 

“Yes. No clue how.” 

He closes the distance, his lips almost touching yours, when he replies, “Let me remind you how,” and kisses you. 

An hour later, you’re walking down the stairs clean and in your borrowed clothes. 

“Can we eat then go to bed?” you ask, through a yawn. “I had classes today, and that long ass drive, plus all the sex. I’m so damn tired.” 

Joel’s behind you in just his sweatpants. 

“I’m fuckin’ tired, too. That sounds good to me.” 

The only lights on downstairs are the lamps in the living room. You walk into the dark kitchen, Joel flipping on the light as he follows, and you head for the stove where the pizza is, popping open the box to see it’s pepperoni. 

“I’ll grab us some plates,” Joel says, rubbing your upper arms. He kisses the top of your head before stepping over to a cabinet.

Turning around, you’re about to ask Joel where the cups are when the dining room light comes on, Tommy standing by the switch. You gasp in shock; Joel’s immediate reaction is to grab a knife from the knife block and get between you and the unwanted visitor—it takes him a second to recognize it’s his brother. 

“Goddammit, Tommy!” Joel shouts and slams the butcher knife onto the countertop. “Are you tryin’ to get yourself killed?!”

“No,” his brother answers, shaking his head, and he looks a little too amused. “But you sure the hell are! Her?!” He points at you and has the audacity to laugh. “Oh, god, Joel,” he says through his glee and grabs the back of a chair, his other hand on his chest as he chuckles. “Her daddy is gonna kill you—you’re fucked!”

Joel sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, perching a palm on his hip. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he says. “I’m a dead man walking.” 

“You are!” Tommy calms down, and his shit-eating grin annoys you. “What the hell were you thinkin’?” he asks. “I mean, I know what you were thinkin’. I just can’t get over you not only robbin’ the fuckin’ cradle, but bangin’ your best buddy’s daughter. How long has whatever this is—” He gestures at you both. “—been goin’ on?” 

“It just happened tonight—I don’t need you lecturin’ me on right and wrong. I know it’s a fucked up situation.” 

A fucked up situation? Ouch. The comment has you crossing your arms over your chest, staring at the floor. 

“Fucked up is right, and I’ve got no fuckin’ idea how you’re gonna get out of it. Her daddy finds out about this, and he’s gonna shoot you deader than dead.” 

“I told you I didn’t want you lecturin’ me.” 

Tommy puts his hands up. “Hey, I’m not lecturin’. I’m just statin’ the facts. I wanna make sure you know this thing between you two could get you killed. You’ve got a daughter, Joel—what would you do in this situation?” 

“Woah,” you interrupt, moving to stand beside Joel—Tommy’s comment about Sarah is a fucking nuke you need to try and hopefully defuse. “First of all, I just want to point out that I am a consenting adult and can fuck whoever I want. Second, I need to set the record straight and say that my dad isn’t going to kill anyone. He’ll be mad as hell if he finds out, but he isn’t going to commit murder because, truth be told, he’s never given a fuck about my life choices. I’d also like to add that this is kinda his fault for not having me visit more often because now Joel and I are pretty much strangers, and this whole thing isn’t as bad as it sounds.” 

“It’s still pretty bad, honey,” Tommy replies, his attention turning to you, smiling. 

“Maybe, but it’s also nobody’s business who I fuck.” 

“Sure, but this person you fucked is one of your daddy’s best friends whose—no offense—way too old for you.” 

“Why does everyone keep callin’ me old?” Joel grumbles. 

Tommy looks at his brother. “‘Cause you are, you old man.” He suddenly looks like he just realized something. “Wait a goddamn minute,” Tommy says. “Joel, are you havin’ a midlife crisis? You’re around the age people have those, right? It’d make sense why you’d risk your life to fuck her.” 

“Get out, Tommy,” Joel replies, pointing toward the front door. “I’ve had enough of you.” 

His younger brother pouts. “‘Cause I called you old?” 

“Out.” 

“Fine.” He slowly starts walking toward the hallway that leads to the front door. “I’ll get out of your hair so the two of you can enjoy the rest of your night. Bye!” 

The door loudly closes as he leaves. 

Well, you’re not entirely sure what’s going to happen now. Between the comment about Sarah and the other things that had been said, you wouldn’t be surprised if Joel ends this. You might as well cut your losses and get it over with to save yourself from more heartbreak. 

Your eyes are on the ground, the first tear falling down your cheek. “After all that, I know whatever this is is probably over,” you quietly say. “But is there a chance I can still sleep in your bed with you tonight? And if you’re willing, have you hold me?”

He turns and pulls you into his arms.

“Yeah, you can sleep with me,” he answers and kisses your hair. “But I’m gonna need you to stop.” 

You lean back to look at him with watery eyes. “Stop what?” 

A sad smile is on his lips. “Jumpin’ to conclusions without talkin’ to me. You’ve already got one foot out the door, and I haven’t even opened it.”

“It’s just everything Tommy said.” 

He lightly squeezes your biceps. “Tommy was bein’ a little shit. You were right when you said this isn’t as bad as it sounds, but you gotta be honest with me about somethin’.” 

“What?” you ask.

His hands come up to hold your face, his thumbs wiping away the tears that have fallen. “Are you positive your daddy won’t kill me? I’ve got Sarah to think about, and even though I like you a lot, I’m not gonna risk dyin’ to be happy.” 

The sweetest man and the best father.

You think about it for a second, and the sad truth is you can’t imagine your dad killing anyone for you—he doesn’t love you that much. He doesn’t love you to the same degree that Joel loves Sarah. With how easily Joel grabbed a knife to protect you, there’s no doubt in your mind he’d kill for his daughter without hesitation. 

“He’ll be pissed off, but he isn’t going to kill you. We also don’t need to tell him anything unless this turns into something. We can keep it to ourselves for now.” 

He hums in agreement. “You know, if you wanted, you could start comin’ here to do your laundry...” 

You smile. “How will you explain that to Sarah?” 

“That I’m helpin’ you out, which is true. Plus, I’ve got the guest room.” 

“Uh huh, the guest room that I’ll sleep in?” 

“Yes.” He nods. 

“Alone?” 

“I sleepwalk.” 

You snort. “Stop it.” You playfully push his chest. “Sarah is not gonna believe you sleepwalked into the guest room.” 

He snatches your hand, bringing it up to kiss your knuckles. “Who said anythin’ about Sarah knowin’ I’m in the guest room, or you bein’ in my room for that matter, while she’s sleepin’? There are also nights like tonight she spends with friends.” 

“You really want me to hang out here?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to have company that isn’t Tommy.”

“I believe that. As long as I’m not a bother, I’ll do my laundry here.”

He smiles. “Not a bother, and you can wash your clothes tomorrow and stay another night. You could even stay over Sunday, too, since you have Monday off—you’re more than welcome.”

You loop your arms around his neck. “Yes, Joel. I will spend my long weekend with you.” 

He leans in, brushing his lips against yours. “Good.” 

Main Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know! 

[frudoo]

Mmmm unethical ER Doctor!Gaz…

Warnings: Fingering, edging, medical malpractice, inappropriate doctor/patient relations. Fem!Reader.

Your toes curl as you swing your legs off the side of the exam table, fingers tapping against your thighs nervously. It took forever for you to get called back, and it seems even longer, now, that you’ve had to wait on the actual doctor to show up. The bright fluorescent lights have started to make your head pound. Biting your lip, you debate on just leaving to try and deal with this… issue on your own again. The very issue that made you seek out help to begin with.

The paper sheet beneath you crinkles as you hop down, cursing yourself for wasting your own precious time. You grab your purse and open the privacy curtain to leave, effectively running into the doctor who had finally showed up. You’re not usually one to bitch and moan to people who are only here to help you, but you’ve been waiting for over an hour and you are in agony, damn it. For the first time in your life, you prepare to chew out a person you don’t even know, sucking in a deep breath.

“About time you… showed… up…” Your mouth drops open when you actually glance up to get a good look at the doctor’s face, immediately feeling your heart drop down to your stomach.

Towering over you with a cocked eyebrow and a cheeky smile is the most gorgeous person you have ever seen in your life. Flawlessly smooth skin and deep brown eyes, maddeningly straight teeth and a perfectly kissable nose. You find it impossible to tear your eyes from his luscious lips, entranced and frozen in place.

“Righ’. Sorry ‘bout tha’ wait. Would ya mind havin’ a seat up there f’me?” He hums, and fuck, even his voice is delicious.

“I- um- I’m so sorry,” you mumble, scrambling back to sit on the exam table once again.

“No’ to worry. I’ve dealt with far worse attitudes than yours,” he teases, and you curl your fingers into the hem of your skirt. “I’m Dr. Garrick, yeah? Says here your problem is… oh. Oh, my.”

You’re mentally cursing yourself. You could literally die right here and the only thing they’d put on your gravestone is ‘idiot.’ A very horny, very broke idiot.

“Yeah,” you tuck your lips into a tight line, humiliation evident in the way your entire body is trembling.

“Alrigh’. I can have a female come in t’do this if you’re more comfortable-”

“No! P-please, I just want it out,” you plead, nearly in tears at the thought of having to wait any longer.

“Hey, hey, tha’s fine,” he soothes. “Go ‘head and remove your bottoms f’me, I’m gonna step outside t’give ya some privacy.”

Dr. Garrick does as he said he would, closing the curtain behind him. With a shaky sigh, you remove your skirt and panties and set them aside, laying back on the table with your feet flat on the surface, knees bent and pressed together. After a few moments, the curtain slides open and the doctor steps back inside, clearing his throat softly.

“I’m jus’ gonna place your feet in some stirrups, alrigh’? It’ll be easier f’me, and hopefully more comfortable f’ya,” he explains, plopping onto his chair and rolling towards the table.

In the cubbies below you, there’s a contraption that pulls out to act as stirrups, and Dr. Garrick helps you guide your ankles onto them carefully. He then drapes a paper slip over your bottom half, giving you a false sense of security given what he’s about to do. You take a deep breath when you hear him go to wash his hands, wishing you were just about anywhere else but here. The seat puffs again and you flinch when you hear him snap on a pair of sterile gloves. Fucking hell. This is getting too real.

“Gonna have a look, now,” he says softly, placing two gloved fingers at your entrance.

Cautiously, he pulls your outer labia open in an attempt to find the object lodged inside of you. Shaking his head, he sighs.

“Can’t see it from out here. Gonna have to push inside,” he explains, gently pressing his middle finger inside of your pussy and feeling around. “Y’know, there are safer options than a hairbrush. I would recommend investin’ in a genuine sex toy, preferably with some kinda base at the bottom.”

“Noted,” you grit your teeth, biting back a moan when he inserts another gloved digit.

You’re already sensitive from having the broken hairbrush handle stuck inside you for over two hours now, and the way his fingers are stretching you out and rubbing against your walls is nothing short of overstimulating. With your eyes squeezed tightly shut, you don’t notice the way your doctor smirks, but you sure as hell feel the way his digits brush against your g-spot.

“Ah, I feel it, now,” he murmurs, curling his fingers to hit that bundle of nerves again.

You don’t expect him to shove his fingers in further, nor the way he speeds up, rapidly massaging your sweet spot. You can’t hold back the whimper that escapes your throat, your back arching uncomfortably, ankles slipping in the stirrups.

“Sorry, I know it’s sensitive,” he says, but there is no sympathy in his tone.

Dr. Garrick rests the pad of his thumb on your clit and circles it tightly, muttering something about needing stability to help him pull the object out. You bite your lip, thighs already trembling as you curse yourself for getting off from this. You simply can’t help it—a pretty man knuckles deep in your pussy, hitting all the right places flawlessly. You’re right on the edge when he pulls his fingers out, popping the hairbrush handle out with them.

“Got it,” he smiles proudly, and if tears weren’t blurring your vision, you might have seen the smug glint in his eye because he knows he ruined your orgasm.

You hear a clank and then the snap of his gloves being pulled off. A weary sob escapes your throat at the newfound emptiness, your cunt clenching around nothing and your swollen clit still throbbing. Dr. Garrick helps your feet back down from the stirrups, watching the way you just lay there limp. He sniffs, hovering over your body and leaning in close to your face.

“Y’know, if ya don’t want a toy, ya can always give me a call. I won’t keep ya waitin’ next time.”

[soulwrencher]

ok so like this is my first ask so sorry if its worded weird!! but could you write a drabble for ellie where like reader is dinas step sister or sum and like reader lives a few states away and dina wants reader to meet her friends so reader visits and meets all of them and ellie is like nervous and stuff and dina teases her for it and eventually dina ships ellie and reader tg (once again sorry if its worded weird..😭)

it's okay! so i'm not gonna specify readers relationship with dina lmao, reader could be a family friend too... and it's longer than a drabble, sorry. but here you go!

why don't you stay, stay here after hours?

ellie x reader, just fluff, not proofread, enjoy :)

you haven't been here for a while. but dina's apartment stayed the same, citrus-scented air freshener and deep brown eyes meeting you at the front door, it was all so familiar, even after all those years. however, you didn't expect a pretty face to emerge from behind her, in fact you didn't expect your little trip to good old hometown to be interesting in any way. when dina told you about her friends, you weren't expecting much, sorry dina. but shit, her friend is more than pretty, she's incredibly attractive.

"come on in," dina says, hugging you, miss pretty face standing awkwardly to the side. you let go, dina gestures towards her, you've been dying to know about her at this point and it's been only a few minutes since you got here.

"so, this is my friend ellie, we used to be a thing but—" ellie clears her throat, are her cheeks slightly rosy?

"we're really good friends, that's what i was trying to say," she continues, shooting ellie a glare. you awkwardly laugh, exchange some 'hi''s and 'nice to meet you''s with ellie, her raspy voice makes it harder for you to remember what you're here for. pretty auburn hair, strands falling out of her bun framing her face, green eyes and long lashes, freckles and kissable lips... what were you here for?

and ellie can't help but notice your eyes wandering, it's making her nervous. it's making her nervous that a gorgeous woman like you was watching her so carefully, she isn't used to getting this much attention next to dina who's incredibly extroverted and drawing all the attention.

she watches you leave and go up to dina's room. pulling dina aside, ellie elbows her.

"ouch," she hisses, rubbing herself.

"what the fuck? why would you mention we used to be a thing," ellie whispers. dina gasps, then covers her mouth, a sly smirk creeping up her face.

"don't tell me you like—" ellie cuts her off with a threatening, well not so threatening, 'hey' hoping dina understands that she needs to quiet down, you're literally upstairs.

"no, she's just pretty. you didn't tell me she's that pretty," she whispers, her face turning red. this will be a fun game for dina, for sure.

you all sit in her very cramped, but colorful kitchen, snacking and drinking while you and dina catch up. however, ellie can't help but steal glances from you, she couldn't help but study your face, the way you speak, the way you'd wheeze when you thought you said something funny, or when you—

"—and ellie is so, totally so single, incredibly single," dina laughs, pulling ellie out of thought. and you too, you've been thinking about ellie's green eyes lingering on your lips, is something on there? dina is the only one laughing while you and ellie are exchanging glances, for a second it feels like the world stopped for you to step closer to something unreachable.

"i guess i am? but why does that matter," ellie then responds, annoyance lacing her voice.

"because she's single too? and i just wanna be able to say that i'm a matchmaker," dina continues, stuffing chips into her mouth. you laugh, but ellie doesn't.

"you really wanna make us all uncomfortable, huh?" ellie mutters, fuck, why would she say that? she's been so overly self-conscious, trying really hard to leave good impressions, but having a pretty girl watch her bicker with her good friend, not how she imagined this to go at all.

"oh i'm not uncomfortable, don't worry," you say, the tension was thick. and dina notices this too, this whole thing took the wrong turn.

"well back in high school i walked up to someone thinking it was dina and scared that girl from behind, talk about uncomfortable," she scoffs. dina immediately throws back her head and cackles, but you can hear ellie's soft and low chuckles. fuck she's cute and you want to know more, know more about her and all the stories she had to tell and lived up until now.

and ellie is more than happy to see the smile that emerged on your lips when she said that, her eyes on you while you giggle at dina's silly stories about teenage ellie and dina's adventures. she just can't look away, your nose scrunches when you laugh, your eyes literally sparkle, you are just so endearing, and ellie would be a fool to pass up on this chance, on this chance to get to know you.

and you spend the rest of the afternoon at dina's place, laughter filling the room, glances and hands brushing filling up your heart.

"okay guys, we need to wrap it up, jesse is on his way and you know how he gets," dina shoots a look to ellie, both nodding in some secret agreement.

"can you get her to her hotel? but take it slow guys, never fuck on the first date," she chuckles, ellie scoffs while getting on her jacket, ellie would never be able to even hold hands with someone as beautiful and kind as you. but it for sure is a nice thought, a thought she saves for when she'll go to sleep later. and your thoughts are racing too, you're about to get in the car with ellie, she'll be driving you, you'll be alone with her, you are freaking out, but you can't let it show.

instead you awkwardly play with the leaves on the ground while you wait in front of her car after you said goodbye to dina.

walking out of dina's apartment, ellie can feel her heart jump out of her chest. she's a fucking wreck, but her urge for more is too big to ignore, she has to do something about all the feelings you made her feel. and for once in her life, she decides to make the first move once you're in her car, something dina always made fun of, telling ellie she's the biggest coward ever.

but not today, today she'll make you fall for her.

what she didn't know is that the second ellie opened the door for you and the scent of patchouli and tobacco filled your senses, you already fell, really hard at that.

you sit in her passenger seat, imagination running wild, the two of you could be knee deep—

"you comfy?" ellie asks, pulling you out of thought. you nod, yeah too fucking comfortable. you struggle putting your seatbelt on because your hands are shaking, but ellie is attentive, already helping you out, with shaky hands too.

to your disappointment, the drive was mostly quiet, so quiet you could hear your own racing heartbeat. but it's stupid to believe that someone like ellie would want to get to know you, you feel stupid for getting your hopes up.

ellie's eyes are on the navigator the whole time, two more streets and you're at the hotel. two more streets, she has to do something. the wheel is getting moist under her sweaty hands, she has never been this nervous in her whole life. but she might never see you again and does she really want to risk that? risk never going to meet anyone like you again? ellie clears her throat, she can't live with the thought of never having tried.

so she inhales deeply as she stops at the red light.

"so—" she starts, looking your way, making sure she got your attention. you tilt your head, you're gorgeous, god you are making this hard, ellie thinks to herself.

"—i made dinner, you should stay." ellie says, her voice low, eyes searching for yours in anticipation, she is about to explode.

"i'd love to," you reply. ellie smiles and hits the gas a little harder than needed as the lights turn green.

[lightsoutletsgo]

names the f1 drivers would call their partner ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

word count: 2k

warnings: cheesy cringy fluff I just thought this was a cute little idea so I decided to turn it into a whole post of it's own! I noticed that I've kind of started assigning names to specific drivers just because that's the vibe I get from them! as always this is entirely personal opinion. happy reading! mimi ₊˚❀.ೃ࿔*:･ it isn't all the drivers bc I don't write for the entire grid but if you wanted to see one driver in particular then pls send in a request and I'll see what I can do!

cl.16 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔  Ma belle (my beautiful or my lovely) Simple and sounds divine when it rolls off the tongue with the French accent! Charles can't remember when he first called you the name because it's all he ever calls you! He adores the way you smile when you hear it and knowing you like it just as much as he does makes him say it again and again and again. 

"Ma belle" is the first thing you hear as your eyes slowly blink open in the morning light. You smile happily with a hum as Charles' lips press against your cheek slowly,  "Good morning ma belle, how did you sleep hmm?" With a giggle you roll over to look at him properly,  "You know I always sleep better when you're home, handsome." You poke his nose gently and it scrunches up before he's pulling you into his arms, hating that you're not as close as possible to him,  "Well then ma belle, let's sleep a little longer..."

cs.55 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔  Princesa (princess) It's classic and sweet without being too cringy!  Carlos originally started calling you princesa as a joke but found that he actually quite liked it. You're his princess and so giving you that title only made sense! Carlos swears his heart melts when you pout up at him and he realises all over again he's more than happy to keep calling you his princess.

"Carlooooos!" You whined, "My feet hurt..." You pouted as you squatted down on the pavement, unable to take another step.  "Princesa..." Carlos sighed, "I told you those shoes would hurt your feet." You stared up at him, bottom lip jutting out,  "I can't walk anymore..." Carlos chuckled and rubbed his thumb over your bottom lip gently,  "Here, princesa," He guided you up and over to a nearby bench before kneeling in front of you. You sighed as his warm hands eased your shoes off of your feet,  "Better?" You nodded, "I'm going to get the car, it's just around the corner okay?" You smiled at him,  "Thank you."  "Of course princesa... And when we get home I'll run you a bath and give you a foot rub, okay?"  

ln.4 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔  Sunshine  Cute and different. Lando has many names for you that all depend on both of your moods and the situation; jellybean, pretty girl, babe, mamas, peach, but sunshine is his favourite. He tells you it's because you're his little piece of Monaco sunshine when he's far away from home and missing you. He draws his inspiration from lazy mornings spent with you in the bed of your shared Monaco apartment, the sun dappling soft patterns on your skin as his lips chase the sunlight.

"Hi sunshine..." You giggle as Lando's scruff tickles your bare shoulder, relishing in the way his lips trace a line of soft kisses across your back as the sunlight pours in through the floaty net curtains. You roll over and loop your arms around his neck, "Good morning gorgeous..." You nuzzle your nose into his and he presses a kiss to your cheek, humming happily as the sun warms the room. "What are your plans for the day?" He asks, desperately hoping that they revolve around him, you contemplate for a moment before rolling over on top of him, "Nothing at all!" Lando finds himself breathless as he gazes at you, the morning light highlighting the colour of your eyes, the glow of your skin and making your lips look so damn kissable. He knows that when he's far away from home, this is what he'll remember. His own slice of heaven and his very own sunshine.

op.81 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔  Angel  sweet and gives you butterflies! Is very nice to hear in all sorts of settings and moods... The first time he saw you, Oscar thought you looked like an angel and though it took him a while to pluck up the courage to call you angel for the first time, it's now the name he always uses for you! Even when you're not around he still refers to you as his angel (much to Lando's annoyance because he thinks you two are icky sometimes).

"Hey angel!" You gave a watery smile at your boyfriend through the call, hating that he was so far away, "have you been crying?" You nodded slowly, knowing how guilty Oscar felt leaving you behind. "I'm sorry angel... Hey," he said lowly, "I left one of my hoodies in your wardrobe, why don't you go grab it?" Following his instructions you grabbed the hoodie and cuddled into bed, holding it up to your nose and desperately trying to imagine he was there with you, "You look so cute angel..." You giggled, "Even when I'm all teary and snotty and sad?" "Especially then!" He beamed back at you, "Who you talking to Oscah?" You heard his teammate's voice drift through the phone, "Just talking to my angel." Oscar cooed, earning a groan from Lando that had you and Oscar bursting into giggles, "You're not even here in the same room and you're still being mushy!"

ls.2 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔  Baby Simple and understated Logan likes to keep things simple but sweet and so baby is his go-to name for you. He's worked out that it suits a variety of situations and moods whether you're feeling happy, down, excited, angry or... needy. 'Baby' is usually followed up with a quick smooch to the cheek or forehead. 

"Babyyyy?" Logan dragged out the last syllable, sitting next to you on the couch, "Babe? You can't stay mad at me forever!" He whined, flopping down onto the pillows.  "My last brownie Logan. The last one." You hmmphed, crossing your arms for emphasis,  "Baby I'm sorry! I didn't realise it was the last one..." You looked at Logan who now sat up next to you looking very dejected. You sighed,  "It's okay,"  "Thank you so much baby," he kissed your cheek, "I will never eat your brownies again no matter how many are there." You giggled as he gave a mock salute,  "Now, go put your shoes on baby, we're going to go and get more brownies!"

gr.63 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔  My love  Classic and to the point! It’s sweet without feeling like too much. With or without the ‘my’ it still feels intimate.George knew not long after you’d started dating there would never be any other name for you. He loves saying it even when you’re out and around other people, it’s not too much that it’s cringy or awkward but it lets people know just how important you are to him. Sometimes he’ll drop the ‘my’ and just call you love, but even that is enough to have your cheeks heating up and to make you bite your bottom lip through a smile. 

“My love?” You heard George call out as the door to your shared apartment opened, “In the kitchen!” You called back, hurrying around to make sure everything was ready for dinner. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” You whirled around to see George standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. You smiled fondly at him as he approached you, pulling you into his arms and settling his hands on your waist, “You look beautiful my love, is this the dress you bought with Lily the other day?” You nodded, looping your arms around his neck and leaning up to peck his lips, “It is, speaking of, is she here?” George nodded, “Yeah, they’re in the dining room.” You squealed with excitement and untangled yourself from George to run to Lily, after the squealing and hugging had died down, George poked his head out of the kitchen, “Do you want me to bring the plates in here love?” Alex laughed shaking is head at George, “You’re so whipped for her.” George nodded, not even phased at Alex’s teasing, “She’s my love, of course I am.”

lh.44 ❀⋆. ࿐࿔  Darling  Iconic and timeless, this name has stood the test of time. Darling sounds so good falling off of his lips. Whether it’s tinged with that slight American accent from time to time or sounds completely British, Lewis loves the way your hand always searches for his or your head drops to his shoulder once he’s said it. Lewis isn’t one for big PDA but he will always use this name, especially if he wants to check in with you mid-event or at a large gathering. Using this name is just one of the many ways he takes care of you. 

“Darling,” You stopped mid-conversation with Toto and Susie as Lewis suddenly appeared behind you, his hand sliding down your arm before linking his fingers with yours and subtly pulling you to stand a little closer to him “are you feeling okay?” He knew you hated these big events, especially when he couldn’t stay by your side the whole time. You turned to look at him a sweet smile breaking across your face as you squeezed his hand, “I’m okay, I promise” He pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head before noticing your glass was empty, “I’ll be right back darling,” He plucked your glass out of your hand and made his way to the bar, you staring after him lovingly, “The two of you are so sweet.” Your head snapped back to Susie who stood there watching you with a fond expression, you giggled, “He takes good care of me,” “You’re good for him too.” Toto acknowledged with a nod, “Here you are darling,” A hand appeared in front of you with a fresh drink, followed by Lewis. Taking the glass from him you pecked his cheek and linked your hand with his, “Thank you love.” 

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Too Hot To Argue

masterlist

summary: dean’s mad you were reckless during a hunt, but your lips just look so damn kissable!

paring: dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 1.1k

warnings: just funny fluff really, language, talk of sex, mention of death/injury

The ride back home to the bunker was awkward to say the least. Dean was furious at you, but you didn’t understand why. You had saved his life a mere two hours ago! He should be grateful!

“Want any music?” Sam asked, hoping to break the tension. He turned on the radio but Dean instantly shut it off.

“No music,” he grumbled, Sam rolling his eyes and letting out a frustrated huff.

“You understand this is fucking stupid, right?” Sam laughed a little.

“Thank you!” you chipped in.

“Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts their fucking pie holes!” Dean exclaimed, his grip on the wheel tightening with anger.

“It’s cake hole, dumbass,” you muttered.

“What’d you say?” Dean whipped his head around as Sam reached for the wheel.

“Eyes on the road, this shotgun is precious cargo!” Sam exclaimed.

“Y/n what you did was stupid and dangerous.” Dean turned back around and focused on the road. “You will sit back there quietly and really think about just how fucking stupid it was.”

“Stupid?” you scoffed. “Fuck you, Dean, I just saved your life and this is how you repay me?”

“I said shut your god damn mouth before I stop the fucking car and make you walk home!” he shouted.

You didn’t dare say anything else. You knew he was bluffing, but he was furious; so there was a small possibility he’d stop the car and walk home himself just to get away from you.

Sam awkwardly glanced at you in the rear view mirror, a compassionate look behind his stoic face. Every so often, Dean looked at you through the same mirror, just to be sure you were still alive and your stupid move back there hadn’t gotten you killed.

When Dean parked Baby in the garage and you all stepped out, he gripped your upper arm gently and pulled you with him to your shared bedroom.

“If you wanted to have angry sex, all you had to do was ask.” You smirked, but your expression changed when you saw his face. He was still angry. Furious, outraged, all the synonyms.

“Y/n I am so unbelievably mad at you right now stop trying to weasel out of having this very serious fight!”

“Dean-”

“No!” He pointed a finger at you. “What you did back there was stupid, reckless, and downright idiotic! You could’ve been killed trying to stop me from getting barely injured!”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not gonna apologize, Dean. What I did was make a quick decision about risking my own life to save yours. I didn’t even end up getting hurt for fucks sake! Calm down!”

“You don’t even see what you did was wrong!” he yelled. He put his hands in front of him and tried emphasizing his point. “You could’ve fucking died back there and it would’ve been my fucking fault!”

“No, if I died it would’ve been one-hundred-percent my own fault, Dean. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know that now, but if things had gone differently you know damn well I would’ve blamed myself!” he said, his voice still raised and his hands in front of his chest, his palms facing you.

“Can you stop doing that with your fucking hands, please?” you exclaimed with anger.

“The hell are you talking about? I’m not doing anything with my hands?”

You gripped both of his wrists and brought his hands about six inches forward, colliding them with your boobs. His angered expression instantly became one of pure shock.

“When you put your hands like that all I can think about is what you’re doing right now,” you told him. You shoved his hands off of your chest. “Put them behind your back or something.”

He put his hands behind his back, “That’s not fair,” he scoffed.

“Why not?”

“Well cause when you pout your lips all angrily all I can think about is this!” He bent down and kissed you, pulling back after a moment. “Now keep those gorgeous lips between your teeth or something so I can stay mad at you!” You did as he asked and sucked your lips in to form a thin line.

“Your lips are kissable too you know,” you said, distorted due to the fact you couldn’t use your lips properly. “You have to do this too!”

He mirrored your expression and sucked his lips in. “Stop sticking your chest out!”

“I’m not!”

“Yes you are! Whenever you’re angry you puff out your chest and it makes your tits look incredible so just turn around so I can’t see them!”

You rolled your eyes and turned around. “Happy?” you scoffed.

“No, I’m still fucking mad at you!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, this isn’t working for me cause now all I can think of is you fucking me from behind. Turn around and keep yelling at me for being a good person and saving your god damn life!”

He turned around, “You were being stupid, Y/n and you know that!” There was a moment of silence.

“You know your hands are now brushing my ass?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah, I know.” He smiled to himself. “God, we’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

“You’re just realizing this now?” you laughed a little. “We really are stupid though. I mean here we are fighting because I was reckless, and we’re so hot for each other we have to argue back-to-back?”

“Ah-ha! So you admit you were being reckless!” Dean said, you rolled your eyes.

“Yes, Dean and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being reckless, but I am not sorry for risking my life to save you.”

“Y/n-”

“Dean, if you had gotten killed and I could’ve saved you, I would've never forgiven myself. I would die for you any day of the week, you know that.”

“Can I turn around now?”

“You sure you want to? You’re still touching my ass,” you chuckled.

Dean turned around as you did the same. He pulled you into his chest and wrapped his arms around you tightly.

“I love you so much, Y/n,” he mumbled.

“I love you so much, too.” You smiled and wrapped your arms around his torso. “You can put your hands a little lower, Dean I know you want to.” He didn’t waste a second and moved his hands to rest on your ass.

“You’re incredible, Y/n. Thanks for putting up with all my stupidity over the years.”

“You too, Dean. Thanks for mirroring my stupidity enough so I don’t feel like a complete idiot.”

“You’re very welcome.”

[amymbona]

I think the reason why I find Josh O'Connor so breathtakingly gorgeous is the very evident hint of femininity that there is to him. Maybe I just have a different way of seeing it, maybe none of you will agree but he's almost androgynous to me.

Most of it is hidden in his face, especially nose and lips I'd say, and especially when he's clean shaven. His nose is so pointy and curved upwards that - despite being slightly bigger - it looks so feminine from the side. His lips are full, pink and absolutely kissable, exactly what you'd imagine to see on woman's face. I think his eyes are very gorgeous as well, and in some photos, he almost seems to have those Disney princess eyelashes.

The way his skin is pale and set with freckles makes him appear so adorable, and this whole clean, smooth look makes me think he could never play a knight or a hero from an action movie. Josh was born to play tender roles, to be a fairy, to pick flowers, and perhaps to wear dresses as well. Maybe I just like the sight of a man in a dress too appealing - can you blame me?

The way his body is built supports my statement as well. While being big and strong, his waist is so thin, I wanna sneak my arm around if and pull him close to me. I wanna feel his body mold against mine like we are meant to be glued together for a lifetime.

And it's his mannerisms as well, the way he moves and how softly he speaks. This man writes his little diaries and collects souvenirs from places he has visited and movies he has filmed. He picks flowers, he would wanna be a ceramicist, he's fascinated by hot air balloons.

He's gentle and shy and you can see him hugging other people a lot. He smiles like the sun and the moon combined and just looking at him makes all my worries evaporate. He is simply very dear to me.

[totalswag]

stealing hoodies — DREW STARKEY

authors note this is very very short and fun to write teheh. feedback is always appreciated <3 requests are still open, send me ideas !!!

summary you love to take drew's sweatshirts when you get the chance and he loves seeing you in his clothes.

warnings none just cute stuff

You were sitting on the balcony cushion chair, computer on your lap, watching your favorite TV show, glass of wine on the coaster, in Drew's favorite sweatshirt, as the gorgeous sunset began to set. The breeze felt good across your skin.

Drew, who was dressed in black sweatpants and a gold chain around his neck, opened the sliding glass door. You wanted you to jump into his bones. He came to a halt, palm on his hip, shaking his head, chuckling at the fact that you're wearing the sweatshirt he's been looking for.

"I've been looking for that sweatshirt, dork," he says, laughing.

"Too bad, dork, I got it first and it's very comfortable," you say, pointing out your tongue, "plus it smells like you."

He defends himself by raising his hands and backing away.

Drew, in all honesty, enjoys seeing you in his clothes. He finds it both adorable and attractive.  You look so little in anything he owns.

"You stole all of my others from my side of the closet. I'm going to need some of them at some point," he sasses you, placing both hands on his hip, lowering his head, and lifting his brows.

Your cheeks flush, and you bury your face in your sweatshirt. He leans in, his right knee on the cushion beside your thigh, his left palm on your bare leg, sending goosebumps down your spine. Slightly staring up at Drew's blue eyes, then down to his lips, which look so kissable.

Drew notices your gazing on his lips and tugs the sweatshirt down with his pointer finger, passionately kissing you. You let out a small moan, pulling him in closer. Before anything else escalates, he pulls away.

You let out a sigh then smile.

"Scoot over, please," he says, scooting his hands. You nod, scooting over with your arms to make room for Drew.

Drew wraps his right arm over your side, drawing you closer to his warm body as he becomes more comfortable. You rest your head on his chest and your hands on your lap.

These are the moments you cherish with Drew. Spending time with him no matter what time of the day just makes you feel happy. You love being in his arms, that’s where you feel most safe. Words cannot describe how happy you make each other, you still give each other butterflies like teenagers going on their first date.

You nestled close to Drew for the rest of the night, watching the show till the stars came out and drinking more wine.

my taglist 🧚🏼‍♀️

@runningfrom2am @winterrrnight @ikisscline @brooklynscherry-z

if you would like to join my taglist please lmk so i can add you :))

[anotherfcknschlattsimp]

SCHLATT WITH A GODDESS STUNNING BEAUTIFUL GORGEOUS PRETTY GF ^_^

AAAAAA I HAVE NO EXPERIENCE WITH THIS AS AN UGLY GAY MAN BUT ILL DO MY BEST

will NOT shut up about how gorgeous you are

walks with your hand in his and stares down anyone who looks at you too long for his liking

bragger, absolutely gets piss drunk at a creator party and starts showing and telling everyone how impossibly perfect you are

gets so jealous and insecure when guys come up to you and brush him off as just your friend

then you kiss his fuming face before he has a chance to knock the guy out

if one of your more conventionally attractive friends, or a pretty streamer starts talking to you, he backs down like a wounded puppy

like 2 minutes into the convo you go to look at him to see if he's okay and you just go :0 cause where the FUCK is he and HOW did you lose him

you excuse yourself to go find your self pitying boyfriend

he's pouting, drunk, cheek to the table in front of him

sees you and he perks up

doesnt even think about letting you know he's sad

he has to be a big burly man man for his perfect god/ess

put you see his puffy eyes and sniffles

"hey big guy, what's wrong? social battery that dead?" you say as you move the two of you to the door, ready to Irish goodbye it outta there

you can see him brace himself, "nuthin's wrong toots, you should get back to ya conversation" he leans to press a kiss to your forehead

"im not going anywhere without you bub" you gently pull his collar to make him lean down before covering his face in kisses

you can hear multiple shouts of course words from anyone that thought they had a chance with you realizing you really ARE taken by schlatt

you both decide to call it a night after schlatt popped a "problem" in his trousers

you notice he's grumpy about 5 minutes into the drive

"what's wrong baby :(" you pry, sad that the love of your life is sad

"nuthin' toots..." he mutters quietly

"don't sound like nuthin'"

"you're just too good for me 's all" he finally snaps, tears running down his face

youre finally home though

he gets out to walk to your side and open the door (always a gentleman)

you rush to hug him, tell him all the reasons you love him, and only him-

but the bitch ran inside already

you feel like a heeled usaine bolt as you patter and clack after the man as soon as you notice

TIMESKIP

you have schlatt pinned to the ground, his leg between yours and yours between his

he's stopped crying, eyes puffy and red, lips bitten and swollen (so very kissable), overall way too cute to think he wasn't enough for you

you both pant, trying to catch your breaths before talking things out

"I,,, love.,,,,,,,, YOU,,,, dumbass,,," you sound like you ran a marathon cause you basically did to find him in the absurdly big house

"why-" he starts before you capture his lips in a very passionate and hurried kiss, a ploy to stall so you can get your thoughts together

you break away "your smile" you kiss his forehead

"your laugh" you kiss his left cheek

"your mind" you kiss his right cheek

"your kindness with me" you kiss his nose

"and finally, your sexy body" you kiss him deeply again

he hasn't even caught his breath yet, calm down

NSFW

you feel something hard and hot pressing against your leg as you tangle your fingers in his hair

you move one hand down to lightly stroke him over his pants and boxers, eliciting a deep moan from the man under you

he takes an opening, that wasn't really there, to flip the two of you over "fuck,,, wanna take this to the bedroom, doll" he pants

you nod hard enough to send your hair everywhere like whips

he helps you stand before taking your hand and leading you to the bedroom, sitting you down on the bed and pushing you to lay down

he plants hot wet kisses down your form between declarations of love and reminders of your beauty as slightly tipsy and very eager fingers work to take off your shorts and underwear before lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders

he is DIVING in, the man is pussy STARVED and READY to EAT

might continue this later/another day

sorry if this isn't what you wanted, my fingers took me on a journey nobody was prepared for

[artyandink]

amoralism | one

Summary: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

A/N - I said I’d post on Friday but surprise! Also, as a note, I have no intention of completely relating to realism (even though I’m pretty sure that’s a title of a chapter). This will be almost like an action/romance movie, and the format is sort of like that too.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Song Inspo: Shameless - Camila Cabello

narcissism

Fifty-Shots Bar had never had this many patrons before.

Clinking of glasses, the bellow of random toasts, tapping of the bar for another round, the whole trifecta played on loop until all those glasses came down on the counter and all the beefy men downing those drinks like water would slap the back of the tallest in the lot, forcing that dude with the unreasonably gorgeous hair to bend to their height from the pressure.

“What’s the occasion, boys?” The lady on shift, Jenna, chuckled. She was intrigued as to why the festivities were so… robust, but then one of the guys shoved the tall one forward, clapping his shoulder in a way that knocked the latter’s breath out.

“Ah, nothing.” The taller one tried playing it off, but the shorter wouldn’t hear of it. His green eyes shone mischievously as he ruffled the tall guy’s hair. Jenna’s eyes couldn’t help but trail down the patron’s, well, everything. Short blonde hair, five o’clock shadow on the sharpest jawline she’d ever seen. Lips always in a pout, daring her to kiss it away until they bruised. Casual denim shirt nothing short of tempting, as tight as a damn straitjacket over that broad, no doubt kissable chest. Arms framed in his sleeves, probably bore enough strength to throw her around like a ragdoll and he wouldn’t break a sweat.

She bit her lip. Oh Lord, this man was either from heaven or hell and she wouldn’t complain either way.

“It’s not nothing.” He laughed, shaking his head. “My brother Sam here took down a big-time multi level marketing scheme. So damn modest.” Another clap of Sam’s shoulder. However, he seemed to have clocked Jenna and her obvious admiration of his entire being, a quirk of the corner of his mouth having her knees like jelly. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

She giggled, her finger twirling her hair around her finger as if she was a little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Jenna. What’s yours?”

“Dean Winchester.” He took her hand, kissing her knuckle and letting his lips linger, smouldering eye contact sending shivers down her spine. “Agent Dean Winchester. Say, Jenna, what time do you get off?”

“When you do.” She breathed, and the low chuckle from Dean had her snapping back into her senses but also getting a very noticeable ache between her thighs. “Um, in an hour.”

Sam had already left. He wasn’t in the mood for watching very visible eye-banging.

Champagne. Chauvinists. The classic fancy, downtown party hosted by a family that owned half of Chicago. Flashing lights, a pair of eyes on you at all times… it was rather an overwhelming feeling, one that you couldn’t shake.

You didn’t know whether to feel confident or hunted in the red dress that you wore, satin and navy and with an open back- all things nice and very attractive to men. Your makeup and blonde (for today) hair done like a movie star and getting the attention of every man in the room, regardless of age.

“And who might you be, sweets?” A very Southern accent drawled from behind you, and you turned around, making a show of playing the innocent yet extremely attractive and mysterious lady at the most extravagant birthday party you had ever seen.

You were playing a stereotype. You hated stereotypes.

“Anna Raleigh.” You responded smoothly, and he seemed to buy it, taking your hand and kissing the knuckle, the creepy eye contact urging you to snatch your hand back and scrub it with an antiseptic wipe.

“Miss Raleigh, you are a work of art. Name’s Matthias Aldrich.” He practically purred, and that sent a cold shiver up your spine.

You put on a polite, smitten smile, though you were inwardly rolling your eyes. “Thank you, sir.”

Matthias tucked a strand of your blonde hair behind your ear. “I’ve always been fond of women who are the golden type of blonde. Hope this is natural.”

You took a crouton from a passing tray, popping it in your mouth and chewing on it, answering once you’d swallowed the bite. You’d done it quick because you could see this dude’s eyes on your lips as you chewed. “I say, these croutons are quite dry, no?”

The door to Jenna’s apartment burst open, her and Dean stumbled in, lips locked, door closing with a well-timed click and moans echoing amid breathy sighs. Dean’s jacket fell just as Jenna’s fingers tugged on his hair, causing him to jolt and let out a growl, groaning as he bent to kiss her neck. “Just like that.” He murmured, nipping and assaulting the tanned skin. Only detaching to pull her skimpy tank over her head, revealing a hot pink, lace bra.

She’s freaky. He liked that.

“You like?” She breathed, ample chest heaving as her teeth worried her bottom lip, batting her eyelashes. Putting on a show for him.

“Mmh.” He hummed, nodding before he reached for the clasp, effortlessly undoing it. It fell to the floor, and he clicked his tongue with a grin. “Better.”

“Much.” She purred, kissing him hotly and leading them to the bedroom.

Pushing.

Pulling.

Grinding.

Jenna’s legs wrapping around his waist, courtesy of Dean putting them there. Moans. Groans. Whimpers. Cries and low mutters of each other’s name. The room heating up and pulsing with enough pressure to forge a diamond.

The bed creaking. Headboard banging. High pitched moans that belong in a porno. Groans of ‘just like that’ and whines of ‘right there’ and ‘don’t stop’.

Not even after a minute after your comment about the dry croutons, the building was stormed. Armed personnel burst through every exit, holding up automatics and yelling for everyone to get their hands up, while you were taken by the arm by one of the people yelling ‘FBI! Hands where we can see them!’ and dragged in a way which appeared rough.

You were led kicking and screaming into a side van, and the moment the door slid shut, you snapped out of it, pulling the wig off. “About time, eh, boys?”

“At least we got your signal.” One protested, while another snorted.

“Dry croutons? Really?” He rolled his eyes, spinning on the chair, raising a pointed eyebrow at you. “With all due respect, it could be something less outlandish.”

“Then it would be too easy to miss, Velasquez.” You retorted, grabbing a makeup wipe and beginning to practically scrub it all off. Also taking an antiseptic wipe and a bottle of hand sanitizer to rid your hand of Matthias Aldrich’s lips. “And since when do I work like I’m a basic, sweater wearing, background blending Gertrude?”

“She has a point, Velasquez.” One agent quipped as he went by. You pointed after him with a smirk.

“Willis gets it.” You grinned, shrugging. “Why can’t you? Have a heart, Velasquez.”

“Yeah, have a heart.”

“Shut up!” Velasquez yelled after him, and got the middle finger from Willis in response.

“You ready to report to the CO, Agent?” Willis asked you, passing you a mug of coffee, which you gratefully sipped.

“When am I not?” You chuckled, letting the warm liquid wash over your throat. “Now, I don’t care what you two clowns do, I need these guys behind bars for two lifers at least. I’ve been hunting down these sons of bad mothers for months. I’m not having any slip ups, no buy ins nor outs. Every. Exit. Sealed.” You looked between the two with an intense glare, no nonsense and all business. “Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Morning afters were always hard for Dean. He had a rule that he followed to the T.

Mind blowing sex? Doesn’t matter, leave before he gets attached and she gets hurt.

“Sorry, Jen, I’d stay, but I’m late for work.” He hurriedly buttoned his denim shirt, trying not to get distracted by the sight of the girl in the sheets, naked body only a thin layer of cotton away.

All he had to do was peel it.

“Aw, handsome, I thought you’d stay for round six.” Jenna giggled, looking him up and down. Inside, Dean was rolling his eyes in frustration. They always got clingy after the best night of their life. Then again, that was purely his fault.

“I would, trust me, darlin’.” He cleared his throat, walking into the living room and finding his jacket and keys, along with his belt. That was important.

Jenna stepped in as well, clad in a silk robe that made her look no short of delectable. But he had to resist. Stick to the damn code. “Y’know, I’m a sucker for a man in uniform.”

She was trying a hit. God, she was trying hard. Dean had to physically resist going back for another hit. She was clingy, sure, but there was a huge double standard there.

“Are you, now?” He smirked, running a hand through his messy hair. “Careful, sweetheart, or I might sextuple dip.”

“Maybe I want you to.” She winked, and it had him chuckling, looking down and then back at her.

“Tempting. Very tempting.”

You stepped into the office, your heels making small taps on the floor as you went, signing in and showing your ID at the register before making your way inside. You’d been told to take a rest for a few days before you returned to your post in the HQ at DC, but who were you to listen?

And everyone knew it too, because the very moment you stepped inside, you were greeted with a show of applause and cheers from your colleagues. “Tenth drug ring of your career.” Agent Lafitte clapped your shoulder, chuckling. “You’re on a roll, sister.”

“Cool it with the flattery, Benny, I’m on a time crunch.” You snorted, shaking your head and holding a hand out for a case file, which was dropped into your hand as you continued walking.

“Hi.” There was a blonde girl beside you, hair pulled up into a ponytail, presumably the one who handed the fine to you. “Agent Jo Harvelle. I used to work narcotics, but they’re giving me a trial in Major Crimes. I was told by the CO to shadow you, so I can get a good sense of the ropes.”

While looking through the files, you glanced up at Agent Harvelle, seeing the eager look on her face. Rather like you when you started, and the eager ones made good agents. With a little tough love. “Yeah, a’ight. CO’s called me for a briefing, so it’ll be up to him whether you stay or step out.”

“About that drug ring you busted?” She grinned. “I was told. By practically everyone. How are you that skilled?”

“Ain’t my first rodeo, hon.” You smirked as you reached the boss’ office, rapping twice on the door with your knuckles and earning a polite ‘come in’.

That you did, finding your superior officer, Senior Agent Robert Singer, standing behind his desk, nose deep in a file while his ear was being talked off by… oh, boy.

Agent Winchester.

“So I quickly take my gun, aim it between his eyes,” He held up finger guns and aimed them to prove his point, completely disregarding your arrival, hideously typical, “and I said ‘hands up or I’ll reenact Rambo’. Genius, am I right?”

You cleared your throat sharply.

That got Agent Winchester’s attention, his green eyes zeroing in on you and giving you memories back that you tried to dispose of in the first place. A smirk twitched at those lips that were once too close to be professional before they stretched into a grin, pearly whites flashing. “Mornin’, Agent. Surprised to see you here.”

“I could say the same thing.” You pressed your lips together (and your thighs, but you’d never admit that), turning to Agent Singer instead. “Should I leave Harvelle outside, sir?”

“That’s ideal.” Singer nodded, so you signalled to Harvelle to stay outside as you closed and locked the soundproof door. You passed the file on the Brierson drug ring to him, which he checked over. “Impressive work, as always. This’ll land them behind bars for sure.”

“Always the perfectionist, aren’t you?” Winchester quipped, arms folded across his chest with a smug smirk. Your brow twitched; you knew exactly why he was highlighting that word in bold, italics, whatever he was intending to do. You’d just rather not think about it.

You scanned him over, adding all the facts in your head. His shirt wasn’t ironed. Belt was wonky. Hair looked like it had a comb desperately run through it but failed to tame it. Faint hint of something red you recognised as a lipstick smear on his jugular and a sliver of a purple bruise that disappeared under his collar. Which was hastily pulled up. His tie done in the simplest knot ever and still looked tragic.

He got here in quite the rush.

“Nice night?” You shot back, a full smirk tugging at your lips and making his drop. He gave you a look which blatantly said smartass, while you proudly notched that win on your belt.

Singer looked between the two of you before tapping his desk. “Entertaining, but not why you’re both here. We’ve found ourselves in a fix. Franz Brierson wasn’t at that party.”

Your blood ran cold. That guy was the big boss, the guy who started it all, got everyone on his payroll. If he was loose… but he couldn’t be loose. Unless you didn’t check?

“I’ve been looking into it for the past five hours. That’s right, I got here early.” Singer huffed out a breath. “There’s a chance that our big boss was notified beforehand. A mole that told him we were coming.”

“A mole. In the FBI.” Dean muttered, now serious as he rubbed a hand into his mouth. “We’ve been clean for years.”

“It’s the only explanation.” You piped up, shaking your head as you began to pace. Heels tapping, Dean’s eyes fixating on the sway of your hips and your ass in that getup at the wrong goddamn moment. “That operation was airtight. No room for error. Only someone on the inside could have leaked that info.”

“You two are the best Major Crimes has. Most arrests, most drug and crime busts I’ve seen on a record in all my years of being here.” Singer folded his arms, looking between the two of you. “I don’t know the whats, whens, whos, hows, whys of what happened when you two were last assigned on a case together, but I need this operation to stay in this circle right here.” He faced you. “When you’re working this case, Agent Harvelle can’t be there. It’s gonna be hard to shake, but you can handle it. As for you,��� Singer shot an exasperated look at Winchester, “look presentable!”

“I look hot.” Dean pouted, now holding his jacket over his shoulder with it hooked on his index.

“Hot isn’t FBI. Go sort yourself out, or I’ll get your brother to do it. I need to oversee operations.” Singer left the room and the tense air between you and Dean, which you faced head on.

“So,” You started in a lilting voice, which he recognised instantly as your teasing tone and prompting an eye roll before the words left your lips, “was she good?”

“Shut up.” He groaned, shaking his head as he pulled his suit jacket back on. “None of your damn business. It’s an intimate exploration, not exhibitionism.” He lowered his voice so you couldn’t hear. “Though she’d probably be into that.”

“Are we calling sex an intimate exploration now?” You scoffed lightly, laughing afterwards. “You’re such a sappy romantic.”

“Asshole.” He shot back. Two can play, Winchester.

“Dumbass.”

“Smartass.”

“Jackass.”

“We gotta stop using ‘ass’ in every sentence.” He groaned, running a hand through his hair and picking up the file to busy himself. But the file was picked out of his hands, left carelessly on the desk, your lips claiming his something sinful.

Something that had him moaning, gripping your hips and his mouth soft, pliable, agreeable to your every want and need. He was all yours, and that was all it took to silence him.

Well, not really silence him, but details weren’t necessary. Not when your plush lips were pressing against his neck like that. Hot, open mouthed. Insistent. Rousing. Dizzying. Intoxicating.

He’d be damned if he ever got enough.

His shirt was soon hanging open, tie discarded as the marks of that sexy lipstick shade littered his torso, and he wasn’t complaining. He definitely wasn’t complaining when you sank to your knees, unbuckling his belt as your tongue traced his abs. Didn’t dare when his slacks pooled to the floor, boxers dropping next, his hand tangling in your hair as-

“Hey.” Your fingers snapped in front of him, taking him out of his delightful daydream, however ill-timed. He swallowed, giving himself a once over. No tie discarded, no shirt undone, no lipstick marks and definitely no you looking so sexy on your knees for him. Having him whine for you.

That was a thought worth biting his lip to.

“You with me?” You continued, and upon his shaky nod, you gave him a weird look before continuing on with your briefing. He inwardly wiped sweat off his brow, thankful to whatever god was watching for the lucky save.

You were sipping a late-night decaf coffee as you contemplated the case again, dressed in your worst-looking pyjamas with an old tea stain on the front and fuzzy socks. Had you scoped the party properly, you could’ve clocked if big man Brierson was actually there. But he’d known, he’d known, and now everyone in Major Crimes was under investigation.

By you.

Well, and Agent Winchester, but you’d rather not think of him. You’re actually not quite sure what happened between you two, all that you broke your own rules for your heart to be broken too. You focused on your job, he had fun. Your cycle went that way.

You’d find a new case, he’d find a new girl. Both to busy yourselves so you wouldn’t have to think about each other, which worked until now.

You got a phone call, and you mindlessly picked it up, irritated as you were pulled from your contemplative thoughts. “What do you want? I’m busy.”

‘Dean, so nice to hear from you.’ You heard, his voice mimicking yours before switching back to his. ‘Wow, Agent, colour me surprised; it’s nice to hear from you too. How are you, Dean? I’m perfectly fine, sweetheart, how are you? You’re so polite.’

“Do I sound like someone to engage in small talk right now?” You deadpanned among chuckles at his own joke, putting your dinner - leftovers - in the microwave. God, you weren’t in the mood for this.

Eventually his snickers subsided, and he cleared his throat as you set the mug down. ‘Duly noted. You’re boring. Anyway, about the mole case. I think we should meet up in the office tomorrow to draw up a list of potential suspects.’

You took your warmed dinner, placing the phone between your shoulder and ear as you stabbed the spaghetti with a fork, chewing as you spoke. “And I think you’re insane. That’s the place we’re casing. Why in the hell would we start drafting up names there?”

You heard Dean clear his throat at the end of the line. ‘Right. Got it. My place?’ Truth is, Dean had been hoping you’d say anything but ‘let’s not draft at the office’. He was scared he’d lift you up on the nearest surface and do what he hadn’t the previous time, mark you, claim you and then let you claim him, mark him, wreck him. He didn’t know what you two were, or what you’d become.

Maybe strangers with very intense, deep seated sexual tension.

“What time?” You asked through yet another bite of spaghetti. You weren’t about to forgo dinner for this dude, cordiality be damned.

‘Tomorrow, straight after hours, just head to my place. Does that work for you?’

“Mm, yeah.” You nodded, setting down your plate to quickly note it in your schedule. “See you then, Agent Winchester.”

‘Call me Dean.’

“Agent Winchester.” It was the least you could do after how things got last time. Again, you’d rather not talk about it.

You walked into the DC office after registering, briefing with Agent Singer before heading to the break room, where you found Trainee Agent Harvelle, Trainee Agent Kevin Tran, Agent Benjamin Lafitte, Agent Garth Fitzgerald and Agent Sam Winchester.

You knew Sam. He was a damn sight more respectful and less… Dean-esque than his older brother. Smarter, yet less effective on brute force raids. For that, you needed Dean Winchester. Anything research, or hacking into databases, Sam was your guy.

“Agents.” You smiled awkwardly, not knowing how else to greet them as you went straight for the coffee pot. Thank the Lord for the petition to make the standard of coffee in that jug better that got the vote from every damn person in the department.

HR and Maintenance can suck it.

“Agent.” The rest of them replied, identically sipping cups of Joe.

“Agents.” Singer walked in, holding a file. “Briefing room. Now.” He walked out, and you all followed suit, taking your coffees with you because you needed the caffeine to sustain your brains. Once you all stepped into the briefing room, where Agent Winchester and Agent Nick Garrison were waiting.

Singer grunted, pulling up a slideshow on the board. “Let’s get this over with.” He showed bodies, robbed banks, hostage situations. “Six occurrences of organised crime over the past four weeks. All hitting major municipalities. Now it’s our jurisdiction.”

“What have we got from the crime scenes?” Agent S. Winchester asked, brow furrowed in thought.

“Nothing but this snake logo, spray painted at every scene.” Up comes a logo of a rearing cobra.

You shrugged, quickly figuring something out. “Well, that solves half of the mystery. They want our attention.”

“It is possible.”

“I think it’s a temper tantrum.” You snorted, pointing to the board. “Look at where they’re hitting. Large cities, maximum damage, it’s a cry out for our beady eyes. Leaving a logo at the scene? Someone either wants to get caught or lead us on.”

“Sounds kinda like girls at a bar.” Agent D. Winchester snickered, but earned a weird look from everyone in the room. “What? I make my own style of analogies, don’t come at me for it.”

“Who’s on the team, sir?” Lafitte asked, the man all slow drawl, suave talk and suspenders.

You pointed to Agent D. Winchester, smirking. “Leave him out, his main interests are girls and booze.”

“Blow me.” He scoffed in retaliation, glaring at you. That was a mistake on Dean’s part, cause he started to imagine it. Oh, that memory’s vivid as hell.

“Beg for it.” You shot back, and despite the steady inflation of awkwardness, he really had half a mind to beg for it, honour be damned to hell.

Pin drop silence. Shared smirks. Uncomfortable eye contact between you and Dean, your minds going to places they really shouldn’t.

Agent Singer cleared his throat, then continued talking. “I want you,” he pointed to you, “and the two Agent Winchesters and Agent Lafitte on it, and the two trainees Agent Tran and Harvelle to shadow. You’re dismissed, except for you two.”

Didn’t take a genius to know who ‘you two’ were.

So everyone but you and Agent D. Winchester filtered out, and the moment the door closed, you were both less bickering, head chopping and heart ripping. More on business.

“This is a good chance for you two to scout for our mole.” Singer looked between the two of you pointedly. “As much unknown history as you two have, you idjits need to set that aside. For the sake of our damn Major Crimes unit. Narcotics will give me hell if I don’t sort this out. And the board of directors will be less pleased that we’ve been compromised.”

“We understand, sir.” You nodded, understanding how goddamn serious this was. Lives were on the line. Your jobs, the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s maintained integrity. “We can put aside our differences, can’t we, daddy’s boy?” You smirked at Dean, then pretended to realise that you’d made a mistake. “Oh, my bad. Agent Winchester.”

Dean resisted a clapback with all his might. He didn’t care if their CO was right there, he’d bend you over this desk and show you who’s really in control here.

That would wipe the smirk off those pretty lips. Replace it with his claim over you.

“So, Dean, I wanna know.” Sam smirked, cracking open a beer and passing it to his older brother. “What’s with you and her?”

Dean scoffed, sipping the beer and shaking his head. “I’m asked this fifty times a day. There’s nothing going on here. We’re work colleagues. She’s incredibly annoying, and grating, and infuriating, and I’m extremely handsome.”

That got a wider smirk from Sam, a knowing one. “You knew who I was talking about.”

That caught Dean out, and he furrowed his brow in confusion. “Say what?”

“You have so many girls in your life that half of your contacts are women.” Sam raised an eyebrow, then chuckled. “But you knew who I was referencing first try.”

“Humour me, Sammy.” Dean grimaced, folding his arms. “How do you label intense sexual tension that was almost acted on yet it almost broke our personal set of rules? Hm? Thought so.”

“So, she’s kind of like an old flame.”

“That flame ain’t lit.”

Sam nodded slowly, giving a breathless chuckle and an inclination of his head. “Yeah. Sure.” He stepped out of the room to head upstairs, which alerted Dean of the implication. He rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Hey! Sammy!”

NEXT UP:

“Oh, honey, such a flirt!” You laughed in a posh accent, mimicking your mother’s laugh to the best of your ability while you swatted Dean’s chest. He smirked at the look in your eyes, because goddamn was it obvious that you hated this.

“Darlin’, I can’t help myself around you.” He turned to the other charity goers with a proud smirk, gesturing to all of you. “Can’t keep my hands off my gorgeous wife. Might have to have something off the menu for dessert, if you catch my drift.” He winked at some elderly ladies, who giggled and waved him off.

“Such a charming boy.” One cooed, obviously eyeing Dean up with poorly restrained envy. While you looked around for your target, you missed the way Dean’s eyes travelled down your body in that form-fitting red dress, v-neck, v-back, thigh slit where he knew you had a thigh holster strapped in, all the good stuff. And his eyes were on those scarlet heels.

He was imagining ramming into you with those sexy things on. And that dress, well, it’d be off in second if he had the chance. And that lipstick? Well, it’d be smeared and leaving prints on his neck, chest, abs and- that’s going a bit too unprofessional.

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[darling2411]

A Bullet wound and a friendly stranger

Jason Todd x reader

word count: 1.2 K

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

"Damn it!" he groans in pain. How did this happen? Obviously someone shot him, but that never happened.

He is a trained killer. No one should be able to take a hit at him, he was gone before anyone could even notice him being there in the first place.

But the steady trip of crimson blood running down his arm left no doubt that he got hit, but how did someone find him?

It didn't matter he had to get his wound cleaned and he really had to leave the dark alley before someone found him in the company of two dead bodies.

The dark haired man stumbled out of the alley and into the busy streets of the city, leaving behind the death that he caused. It was as if he stepped into another world. The sun breaking through the thick clouds made the city's glass buildings shine as bright as  the stars in the night sky he was used to seeing. Jason was so blinded by the lights that he accidentally ran into an oncoming woman, who seemed to be deeply involved in the book she was holding. 

"Oh gosh I am so sorry" the beautiful girl states, "I wasn't paying attention at all, totally my fault." Her smile was even brighter than the city lights.

He saw her lips move but didn't hear the words they were forming. She had really pretty lips, and her eyes ,whoa her eyes were beyond beautiful, they were magnificent. Jason decided then and there that they were his new favourite sight.

"Are you alright?" she asked after he didn't react to her former statement.

"I´m sorry, I-", what was he supposed to say? Sorry that I didn't answer because I was too busy staring at your gorgeous face?, "I was lost in thought. Sorry that I bumped into you." why was he suddenly so nervous? He didn't get nervous.

"Like I said before, it was totally my fault." she said while taking him in. Her eyes widened when she noticed the blood dripping down his arm."Oh god you´re bleeding. Let me help you clean that up. That's the least I can do. My apartment isn't far."

"How could I deny a beautiful woman like yourself inviting me to her home?", he replied, a smirk playing on his perfectly kissable lips.

She was even more beautiful when she blushed and he loved that he made her.

"Come on."

The walk back to her place was quiet, filled with stolen glances and the occasional brush of his fingers against hers. He couldn’t stop seeking her presence.

"You can sit down wherever, I´m going to get some stuff to clean up that wound." she says while walking through the door, Jason close behind.

He decided to sit down at the kitchen table not wanting to get blood on her comfy looking couch.

Her apartment was full of life. Everywhere you looked  parts of her life were displayed.

Framed photos with family and friends, pictures of places she visited, books that adorned every place she could fit them. She was the exact opposite of him.

Where she was light he was dark, where she was joyful he was grumpy and where she was life he was death.

When the woman whose name Jason still didn't know returned he was reading in one of her books.

Had she been gone that long? Without him noticing she looked at him again really looked at him. Taking in his bulging biceps. His gorgeous face and soft looking hair. Then she realised what he was holding in his hands that looked so much bigger than hers.

"What are you doing?" she squeaked. He had opened one of the books that laid on her kitchen counter, she had just read it this morning and forgot to return it to it´s righteous place. He didn't think anything about it. Though it was a harmless romance novel, the titel `Twisted Games` definitely deceiving. This was not a simple little romance novel.

"Crawl to me " he was hooked from the very first words on the page he opened and then the spicy stuff came. He couldn't stop, he just wanted to read a few pages until the pretty woman returned but now? He couldn't put it down and additionally he was turned on.

"Don´t read that" she stomps over to him, her face flushed with embarrassment. As she glances at the page he is on her eyes widens and if possible she blushes even more."Oh god, why did you have to open that book at that page" she says more to herself than him. Is she ashamed? Huh.

"Why? Don´t want me knowing about the filthy things you read about?", Jason leans closer," Tell me pretty girl, do you only enjoy reading these things or do you also like to be treated that way?" His voice dropped and he could see her pulse quickening. Could hear her breath hitch. He was attuned to every little thing she did. Painfully aware of how close she was and how good she smelled. Vanilla and was that cherry? Whatever it was, it was intoxicating and it made him want to do filthy things to her. Things like the ones she reads about.

"I-"she stammers, "I think, uhm" she closes her eyes for a second, inhales and then opens them again to directly look at him ," I think I should take a look at your wound before it turns into something serious."

He watched her as she cut off the sleeves of the tight shirt he was wearing. Eyes widening when she saw the ugly flesh wound the bullet left. That was going  to leave a scar, another one in his collection. He felt incredibly stupid not to wear his red Hood suit and mask today.

"How did that happen", she asks him, concern evident in her voice and on her face.

"Don't worry about it, pretty girl." He didn't want her knowing who he was what he didn’t and he definitely couldn't let her in on his secret. That would surely cost him every chance he ever had at getting to know her better.

"[y/n]" she mumbles, hands busy disinfecting his wound. “Now you don’t have to keep calling me pretty girl.”

"[y/n] ." he tries out her name on his tongue. It sounded perfect. She also liked the way he said her name. As if he hadn't done anything else in his life. It sounded so familiar. “ I like calling you pretty girl”

"Does this hurt?" [y/n]  asks, instead of acknowledging what he said. 

"Not really"Should he hiss, act like it hurt? This little wound was nothing against everything else he had had to endure before. "I mean it burns and everything but it's not as bad as it looks."

"If you say so. I think you have a high pain tolerance. I'm sure I would be crying by now." she laughs. Shit, why did she have to say that? Now he was thinking of her with tears streaming down her face but in a different setting.

Her body writhing under his, tears of overstimulation streaming down her face and her soft voice begging him to stop and keep going simultaneously. 

God what was she doing to him? He never reacted this way to anyone. He was always in control of his emotions, never really feeling anything. It was a part of the job. And [y/n] made him feel more in the half hour he spent with her than he felt in the last months of his life.

A weird feeling emerged in him. He wanted to feel more with her, wanted to keep her around. Needed to be around her. What was this indescribable feeling swelling deep in his chest? He did not know, but he would learn soon enough.

ⓘ This is my first time writing for Jason and I'm more of a Marvel girly so I dont know thaaat much about the DC Comic Universe, but I am trying my best😭

[nburkhardt]

We’re just gonna see where this goes but it’s inspired by this! Hope you don’t mind @thorniest-rose

~

When it first came to be, it was strictly dnd. Honest. It was a safe place for anybody who wanted to play in the game, to find friends.

But somewhere along the way when it was just the core four; Gareth, Jeff, Frankie and of course, Eddie.

They used their time in Hellfire to become best friends and eventually learn something else they have in common.

A crush on Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.

The four of them hated admitting it out loud but it came to a halt when the jock was partnered up with Jeff for a project and Jeff couldn’t stop talking about how nice the guy actually is. It snowballed from there, Gareth found out the guy drove middle schoolers around when he accidentally ran into him at the arcade and one of the middle schoolers wouldn’t leave him alone. Then Frankie accidentally bumped into him during lunch and Steve gave up his food when Frankie’s was all over the floor.

What really sold all of them on the crush was when Eddie decided all of them deserved a treat for defeating the latest campaign. Eddie froze the second he stepped into Scoops Ahoy when Steve turned from his coworker and greeted them.

It was after that they all really admitted to the crush and would spend a few minutes each hellfire session to talk about it.

They thought once the new school year started, they’ll finally move past it.

It was going really good, until the new members came in and all four of them got a front row seat yet again of the one they all like.

Steve dropping off Dustin Henderson and Robin Buckley at school, or Steve hanging around Hellfire to drag Henderson home. They see him around town too, usually with Robin but sometimes he’s out with Dustin and Sinclair’s sister getting ice cream of all things.

They’re all cowards though.

Never actually finding any sort of courage to actually talk to the guy. At least not directly and never long enough, sometimes they’ll say hi and how are yous. Little stuff, ya know?

Luckily no one caught onto it, especially since they actually see Steve more and more now. Instead of talking about the crush during hellfire sessions, they use band practice now. Just to save themselves a from tiny bit of embarrassment.

Eddie’ll admit later on that he got a little, just a tiny amount really, high. A bit, truly. That’s what makes his lips a little loose, makes his brain mushy, makes him giddy and have the giggles.

He’ll blame Henderson or maybe thank him? Eddie isn’t sure yet but for now not just himself but his best friends are all frozen right now.

“You what?!” Henderson screeches and makes them move again, “Hellfire is what now?”

Eddie can process that this is starting to go sideways but the high is pleasant and blurring his lines, so he looks up at Dustin, “a Steve Harrington fan club? A bit. Stevie is pretty boy! How can we not? He’s nice and sunshine in human form, he’s just so so good! And and and gorgeous!”

He sighs and closes his eyes, “so kissable tooooooooo”

Everyone else in the have very different reactions. Jeff, Gareth, Frankie all shrug and nod. Mike and Lucas look a little disappointed and annoyed, Dustin’s the only one that doesn’t seem to either agree or disagree. He looks both happy and grossed out. Eddie’s head is floating away, he can’t really process any of this information. And he’s not gonna ask questions in this state or answer more questions.

“Sooo, I gotta admit, was not expecting this”

Eddie’s stomach does a flip as his eyes fly open and when they focus, there, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and a smile or maybe a smirk- maybe neither? Eddie’s can’t tell. It’s very, very nice. He does know that at least.

Steve is very, very pretty. Especially as he moves into the room, “Seeeee, Henderson? Ain’t he just gorgeous?”

Dustin looks between them, shaking his head before turning to the others, the ones not currently high. “Seriously?”

Frankie shrugs again, “I mean, Ed isn’t wrong. Thought I’d be over it, but here I am anyway.”

Jeff nodded and Gareth rolled his eyes, “we tried keeping between us only”

The new members frowned, while Dustin and Steve stared at each other. Steve fighting back a laugh, while Dustin already cracked a smile before looking back at Eddie, who’s head is finally floating back down and he’s started to sit back up.

“Oh. Oh man. I did-” Eddie looked between everyone, face turning bright red as he closes his eyes and blinking before meeting Steve’s eyes, “fuccccck, dude- I,”

There’s a glint in Steve’s gaze, his laugh dying but a smile staying in it’s place, “Picked a great day to hang around, maybe we can do all of that again some day?”

“What?”

Eddie sees the younger boys snap their heads to look at Steve, Dustin’s the only one to smile and bounce in his place. The older boys are glaring at him, Eddie can tell even without looking, green isn’t really their color.

Steve’s face hasn’t moved though, still looking at him and definitely smirking.

“Let’s try the complaints and pretty names again, Eddie baby” Steve says, and Eddie cannot believe his ears.

Eddie can tell he looks dumb but he nods and nods and nods as his smile grows, “I can come up with so many. So many, Sunshine, Darling, just you wait!”

(His best friends are both very jealous and very happy for him. And they’ll eventually with time, joke about this and play try getting Steve to themselves. Eddie will always win at the end. Someday it’ll come out that Steve was just waiting for the day for the guts to ask Eddie out. Robin let’s Eddie and the guys in on that secret.)

~ ~

Like I said I don’t know where this was going it kinda wrote itself. I… don’t know how it got this long. Also Lucas and Mike look annoyed because that’s their babysitter. It gross. Dustin’s happy because it’s his big brother. 😌

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[kaiyatoast]

peachy - theo raeken

summary: theo gives you a ride home pairings: theo raeken x gn!reader w/c: 1147

“theo’s staring at you.”

your head snapped up from the ground, turning in the direction of your strawberry blonde best friend. you gave her a questioning look and she pointed in the boy’s direction. you looked there and sure enough, he was looking straight at you. your cheeks heated up and you smiled softly at him, feeling the usual fluttering of your heart whenever you looked at him.

it was obvious you had some sort of attraction towards him. before he killed your brother, after he killed him, and after he came back from hell. you’ve always found him good looking. how his soft brown hair fell over his face, his gorgeous blue eyes, the small smile on his soft, kissable lips that was always present around you, his really nice bice-

“y/n! are you listening?” stiles exclaimed, jolting you out of your thoughts. your cheeks heated up further as you looked away from theo. you nodded sheepishly. lydia nudged you with a small smirk and a wink. in turn, you playfully growled at her, showing her your fangs. she rolled her eyes at you and linked your arms together.

you kept yourself from staring at theo for the rest of the pack meeting, only glancing at him every so often. every time you looked at him, he’d already have his eyes on you with a small smile on his face. when the meeting was over, everyone left. you walked off with lydia and she was already grilling you.

“are you going to do anything?” she asked. you gave her a confused look.

“do what with who?”

“theo. are you going to do anything about your very obvious attraction to him?” the strawberry blonde asked you. you shook your head as scott joined you, walking alongside you.

“it is not obvious,” you scowled. both lydia and scott looked at each other before looking back at you.

“it’s very obvious, y/n. everyone could see how attracted you are to each other,” lydia said. scott nodded.

“we could even smell it,” he added with a boyish grin. you rolled your eyes at your alpha and best friend.

“fine. but it’s one sided. but i do not have that much attraction to him anyways,” you lied.

“we know you’re lying,” lydia and scott said. you walked backwards so that you were facing them.

“i’m not lying,” you lied again. “what would i be attracted to anyways? his eyes? hair? face? body? nuh uh, i don’t think so.”

“i think it’s all of it,” lydia piped in unhelpfully. you gave her a flat look before continuing.

“besides, all this attraction is only temporary. i haven’t been crushing on him for a while,” you said and lydia gave you an unconvinced look. scott glanced behind you but you ignored it.

“besides, i’ll just avoid him so i don’t have to deal with his goodlooking-ness,” you continued with a nod.

“who are you avoiding?” a familiar voice asked and you turned, almost tripping over your two feet. you felt the usual flutter in your stomach when theo gave you a small smirk.

“uh, no one?” you said, biting the insides of your cheek. he chuckled and the sound made you smile.

“oh! theo! you’re here! perfect. can you drop y/n? i have things that i need to do and scott has some place he needs to be, thanks,” lydia said before pulling scott with her so that you were left alone with theo.

goddamnit lydia.

“uh, you don’t have to drop me, i think stiles is still here,” you said, biting your lips.

“it’s fine, i’ll drop you off,” theo said with the charming smile still on his face. he held his hand to you and without any hesitation, you took it. he interlocked your fingers as you walked to his truck. the two of you talked as he drove, with one of his hands on your thigh. your eyes kept glancing down at it before looking up again.

you tried to focus on the conversation, but it was hard to concentrate on anything other than the warmth on your thigh. or how his hand covered your entire thigh. and wow, he had really nice hands. you wondered how his hands would fe-

“y/n? you alright?” theo asked. your eyes snapped up to meet his. 

“yep, all cool,” you nodded. all was decidedly not cool, but that was because of the warmth you could feel. and the tingles. you wondered what it would feel like on yo-

“are you sure? you seem really distracted,” theo smirked. he could probably hear how your heartbeat was all over the place. he parked the car in front of your house, turning to focus on you. 

“yes i’m sure. everything’s peachy.”

“peachy?”

"yes peachy. everything's fine and peachy. thanks for the ride, raeken." you glared at him, suddenly mad at him for teasing you when he knew that you had a not-really-there, tinsy-small crush on him. 

you turned to open the door, but before you could, his hand reached out to grasp your forearm.

"what, theo?" you asked, your anger dissipating. you knew that you were unfair to him, and that you were truly annoyed at yourself, for not saying anything, but also not being able to get over him.

"sorry, it was unfair for me to snap at you."

"it's alright. you wanna tell me what's really on your mind? and what got you so annoyed?"

you let out a small, unamused laugh. "no, it's alright. i'll get over it. don't worry about it. you probably have something better to do."

"you're right. i have something better to do," theo agreed. the words came originally from your lips, but it still caused you to flinch.

you gave him a tight smile. "okay. wouldn't want to take up more of your time."

you turned to the door again, using your other hand to open the door and pulling your arm from him. "thanks for the ride."

you heard him growl. before you could ask him what his problem was, you felt theo pull you in by your shoulders and your lips on his.

it took you a moment before you could respond. you kissed him back, just as he was about to pull away. you melted into the kiss, and into his hand, which moved to gently hold your face.

you moved your hand to the front of his shirt, pulling him closer to you. his tongue nudged your lips, and you obliged, opening them to meet his.

when you had to come up for air, you moved back, but theo rested his forehead against yours.

"told you i had better things to do," theo grinned. you rolled your eyes, but before you could retort, he lifted you up and sat you on his lap, moving in to kiss you again.

yep, definitely better things to do

[divinityandfanfics]

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

you and satoru were married. even though it was arranged, you find yourself slowly starting to fall for him. you seemingly couldn't say the same for him, though.

he was dropdead gorgeous. those beautiful blue eyes, and white hair that you want to (so badly) stuff your fingers in. and plump, kissable lips that you oh so want to devour.

despite your marriage, he was very cold to you. whenever you ask him for coffee together at day, he'd turn it down with a (sweet); “no thank you,” and continue working on his computer.

we know, you guys are arranged. but, you're trying hard to be the perfect wife for him. he might not notice your efforts, but atleast you tried. you guys slept in the same room, but.. separate beds, of course.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

today, satoru was out talking with a potential business partner while you were left alone in the mansion. you were bored, so you reached for your phone and entertained yourself while satoru was away.

“i miss his pretty face,” you blurted out. your eyes widening as you realized what you had said. you lightly hit yourself on the head. muttering a; “stop thinking about him!” along.

you were in the living room, first floor. your maids were on a day-off today, and the butlers followed satoru in his doings. you were basically all alone.

after a few minutes of scrolling on your phone, you heard a window break. surprised, you stood up, phone in hand. you quickly grabbed a kitchen knife for your defense, and slowly made your way to the shattered window upstairs.

the tension was thick, an awkward lump on your throat as you gripped the weapon in your hands. as you opened the bathroom door, you can see an intruder. armed with a gun. he spots you quickly as you try to stab him.

he pointed the gun at you, telling you to; “stop or you’re dead!” and you did as told. you didn't want your brains to get shot out right then and there, so you obeyed.

he grabs the rope in his pockets, tying your hands together. along with a tight fabric that he puts around your mouth. he gets out the back door, putting you on the back of his van as he drove off.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

satoru, on the other hand, was informed by one of the neighbors that you might have been taken. he was shocked, telling his bodyguards to search for you, and to call the cops.

after the discussion about business, he went home. trying to find you anywhere. he asked his neighbor where the van headed, and the neighbor pointed to shibuya. after a left turn the van took, they could no longer see him.

so satoru quickly told the police to follow it. the cops knocking on every door, satoru desperate to find you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“what do you want from me!?” you yelled as he finally took the fabric off your mouth. “nothing, you're just a hostage. I'm going to ask your husband for a biiiiiig amount of money for.. your life!” he says, smiling creepily at you.

“you can just kill me already. my husban— satoru, doesn't even care about me.” you mumble, and your kidnapper just laughs mockingly at you.

“well, let's try then, shall we?” he grins, before hearing a knock on the door. he quickly puts the fabric on your mouth again, “do not make any noise.” he said before heading upstairs.

you sat there, in the dark and cold basement floor. you prayed to any god out there to help you, to save you. you closed your eyes, tears streaming down your face.

after a few minutes of hearing incoherent voices upstairs,

“what!? no, let me go!” a familiar voice spoke, sounded like your abductor. you kept your eyes closed, hearing the basement door open. your eyes shot open, revealing a figure walking towards you hurriedly.

you couldn't see them, considering the darkness. but as they shined the flashlight at you, you saw a police officer. your eyes teared up as you thank the gods for this.

“she’s here!” the officer yelled to his other counterparts, as he rushes towards you.

after the fabric and rope were removed from you, satoru runs in the basement. your eyes widen as he hugs you, telling you how worried he was.

you smile, happy that your husband actually does care about you.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗