#i will have a beer once in a while or a glass of wine at a celebration

[wewontbesleeping]

i'm so glad i didn't inherit the alcohol enjoying gene

[ronanlynchbf]

saying "this is unbearable" abt things yet still continuing to bear them. give it up for the human spirit everyone 🙏👆👍💪💪💪❗❗❗

[shellshocklove]

brat! | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x brat!female!reader – no outbreak

summary: joel is having a brat summer.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap, enemies to lovers vibes? swearing, drinking of alcohol, smoking of cigarettes, reader wears a dress, heels and lipstick but otherwise no other descriptions, use of pet names, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, manhandling, a little exhibitionism? fingering, choking, spitting, a little dacryphilia, oral (m receiving), cock worship, spanking, degradation (whore, slut), some sub space territory, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), creampie, one use of the word ‘daddy’, no use of y/n

a/n: this was fun! and naughtier than i thought it was gonna be 💀 i’ve never written a reader so far removed from my own personality lol and i’m kind of obsessed with how this turned out. anyways stream brat by charlie xcx and happy reading! <3

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

Blitzes of red, green, and blue danced before your eyes. The beating in your temples in tune with the bass vibrating in your chest. Around you the faceless bodies moved in slow motion. The heat rose around you as the sweat clung to your skin.

You’re sure you’ve lost your friends. Well, not lost lost. They were in the dancing crowd somewhere. Behind you, the same ugly guy had been rubbing up against you for a minute too long. You knew because you’d tipped your head back once and his borderline bowl cut hair, polo shirt with deep sweat rings under his arms, and tan chinos, were not it.

His breath stank of tequila when he leaned into your ear, “Hey,” he slurred, “wanna get out of here?”

And that had been your cue to leave.

With a scoff, you turned around to get a good look at him. You’d sized him up, made a show of it, and laughed in his face. Then you pushed your way through the crowd, coming up for air by the bar.

The earlier buzz you’d been sailing on, had weaned off a long time ago. It had been last minute, you weren’t even going out tonight, just having dinner with your childhood friends while you were home for the summer. But then one of them had ordered shots for the table just as the last plate had been cleared, and soon you were at the club cruising on a couple of glasses of wine and a lousy shot. Not that it mattered, usually you ended up twirling some sorry man around your finger long enough to get yourself a couple of rounds, before you’d excuse yourself to the ladies’ room and leave with your friends.

Looking down the bar, you searched for tonight’s victim.

To your right a group of girls huddled around the edge, waiting for their own drinks by the looks of it.

Not them.

Down to your left, a boy with a face full of acne fumbled with his card as he paid for a round of beers. He didn’t even look old enough to be in here, but that wasn’t your problem. You had to hold back a laugh as you watched him struggle to figure out how to carry the five beers he’d ordered back to his friends. He ended up gathering them in a circle to wrap his hands around, and you’d seen this go wrong plenty of times to feel the pull of an amused smile on your lips.

When he’d vanished into the crowd, your eyes flicked back to the bar, to the man sitting there– and he was a man. Probably somewhere in his fifties you reckoned, but he looked gorgeous. A real dilf. Your interest was piqued.

You slid down the bar.

He didn’t look particularly amused where he sat at a bar stool, nursing a beer in his hands. Who sits at the bar in the club? He looked nice. Brown hair, dark jeans, and a grey t-shirt stretched deliciously over his chest. When you got closer you could see a flannel resting beside him on the bar.

Is this what older men wear to the club these days?

He didn’t seem to notice you as you sat down next to him – either that, or he ignored you. You kinda wished for the latter, it would make it more fun.

You gave him a few more minutes of silence, of your presence, to see if he’d say something to you. When he didn’t you asked him over the music, “Aren’t you gonna buy me a drink?”

You said it innocently, but like it was obvious and he hadn’t caught on yet. His head turned towards you, still unamused, but with his eyebrow raised.

Okay, you could work with that.

You didn’t say anything as he studied you, drank you in like you’d done to him from afar. You felt his gaze over your clinging dress, your bare shoulders, before they found your eyes.

Something tickled in your core, and you were reminded of how long it had been since you’d been properly fucked– fucked by someone who wasn’t some drunk guy at your college’s parties, but fucked by someone who knew what they were doing.

The man turned towards you; a smile tickling the corner of his mouth.

“Does that usually work f’you, sweetheart?”

You weren’t expecting his rebuttal, but you liked it. He wasn’t some boy who’d trip over himself for the privilege of being in the presence of you. The boys – they made it too easy – but this man would make you work for it.

Putting on your most saccharine smile you slid closer to him, “You looked so lonely over here– thought I’d keep you company.”

A scoffing laugh escaped him, and his head dipped, “’s that so?” His eyes found yours again.

“Haven’t seen you here before,” you ignored his question, and brushed your heeled foot up the length of his calf.

“Ain’t ever been here before,” he kept his eyes on your face, his drawl pulling at the words and twisting up your insides.

“So, a virgin, huh?” you teased, and that seemed to amuse him.

“What– you’re here to pop my cherry?”

This time an amused smile pulled at your face. You liked this man. “Not without a drink first,” your foot slid down his calf, “what do you take me for?”

A bright sense of pride filled your chest when you made him laugh, filling you up with confidence.

“D’you want me to answer that?” he rebutted.

He didn’t say it with any malice, it was teasing and playful, and it pulled at the veil inside you. A genuine smile pulled at the corners of your mouth, “Probably not.”

“What can I getcha, then, sweetheart?”

“G&T?” you said, and bit down on your bottom lip coquettishly.

Turning away from you, the man got the attention of the bartender. You watched his profile, followed the line of his jaw, the shape of his nose. You decided then and there that your night was gonna end in this man’s bed.

“Sooo,” you sang, when you’d gotten your drink, “first time here, huh?” The man just nodded, before he sipped his beer.  

Not much of a talker, huh?

“You here alone, or? With the wife maybe?”

That pulled a laugh from him. “I’m here with my lil’ brother… bachelor party,” he shook his head, like he couldn’t believe he’d gotten dragged in here, “he’s gettin’ married next month.”

“Ah,” you nodded and took a sip of your drink. “So, where are you heading next? A strip club?” you teased.

The man just shot you an unimpressed look, and you thought about how you’d never seen a man look so out of place, ever.

“What? The wife won’t let you?”

A sharp huff escaped him, “Ain’t got no wife no more,” he said matter-of-factly.

You took another sip of your drink to hide the smile from forming.

Bingo.

“I take it you’re a man who does what he wants, then?” you said it innocently, and subtly slid your hand over his knee. His eyes caught yours at the touch, and you swore you saw something change in them.

You’d hooked him now, all you had to do was reel him in.

He turned his body towards you – he did it slowly, like every muscle he moved had been calculated beforehand. Then he leaned in closer, his hot breath huffing against your ear.

“Takes one to know one, ain’t that right?”

Under your skin, you buzzed, your heart beating out of your chest at the new proximity. You had to stay cool, play it off, act unbothered. So, you pulled away slightly, and turned your head to meet his eyes.

“What?” he challenged with a raise of an eyebrow, “Ain’t used to people talkin’ back?”

When you didn’t say anything right away, a smug grin coated his lips, “Yeah, I know girls like you.”

“There’s no girls like me,” you argued back, his confidence both pissing you off, and turning you on at the same time.

“Oh, but there are– Spoiled daddy’s girls who ain’t had anyone tellin’ them no their whole life. They do what they want, and play with who they want– I know a brat when I see one.”

Your eyes narrowed at him as he pulled away, that infuriating smug grin not going anywhere. The worst part was that he was right, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“But you like that don’t you?” you challenged, “I bet you live in some sad house in a sleepy suburban cul-de-sac, go to the same boring job every day, and wish your wife never left you.”

A flash of hurt could be seen across his face as those last words left your lips, and you thought you’d maybe gone too far. A beat of silence passed between you, the buzzing beat of the club music keeping the tune of the tension building.

You were about to apologize when he finally spoke, “You’re a rude one, aren’t ya?”

His voice didn’t sound as hurt as you’d thought, and you realize he was playing your game. You almost had him.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” you challenged, hammering the final nail in the coffin.

“That depends on you, sweetheart.”

Outside the club, Joel (the man had finally introduced himself) leaned against the bricks of the alley as you fished a cigarette from your purse. According to your phone, your uber would be there in ten minutes. The fresh air had sobered you up slightly, exchanging the buzzing alcohol in your veins with excitement.

You didn’t know what you were in for.

Over your skin, you felt his gaze roll over you, and you let him look. Let him study your body filling out your sheer, white, almost see-through dress. You didn’t offer him a cigarette; he’d have to ask for it himself, or take it, if he wanted a drag.

“So,” you took a drag of your cigarette, savoring the first tar-y breath, before exhaling through your nose, “where are you taking me?”

Joel shifted his weight against the bricks as his arms crossed over his wide chest. “Whatchu call it? My sad house?” he said, his voice bordering on cold if it wasn’t for the smug smile covering his features.

You gave him a sultry look as you stepped closer, crossing one heeled foot in front of the other, slowly.

“Mmm,” you hummed, as you tilted your head with an uninterested face, “Sounds fucking boring to me.” Your finger climbed up his chest, eyes traveling from his chest to his face. His stern face gave nothing away, as you took another drag of your cigarette and blew the smoke in his face.

Finally, he’d had enough. His large hand wrapped around your wrist, and tightened, before he turned you around and pushed you up against the wall. You let out an exaggerated huff as your body hit the bricks, your cigarette slipping from your fingers. He pushed himself up against you, and you couldn’t contain the satisfied grin on your face, pleased to have pushed his buttons enough to finally act.

“Oh, I’ll show you boring, brat.”

A rough hand danced up the side of your thigh and under the hem of your dress. Challenging him, you squirmed against the grip of his other hand around your wrist.

“Nuh-uh,” he shook his head, and he was so close now you felt his breath ghost over your lips. With a twist of your arm, he pinned it behind your back, Joel now completely in control, and a buzz of arousal spread through your body at the thought.

“You listen’ up now, and I’m only gonna say it once: you’re gonna do as I say, when I say it, and no talkin’ back, we clear?” His voice was stern, but his dark brown eyes gave him away; how they’d widened with lust, blown out and dark. Your panties already soaked at the thought of what he had in mind for you tonight.

“Yes,” you said playfully, biting down at your bottom lip through a smile.

“Yes, sir,” he corrected as his rough hand on your thigh slid closer and closer to the seam of your thong. “Good girls who do as they’re told get rewarded, you understand?”

You nodded, sucking in a breath as you felt his fingers brush over your clit lightly. He was testing you now, teasing you, and pushing your buttons. You felt like you were on fire, burning from arousal; it licked up your thighs and flickered bright in your core.

Where was that fucking uber?

“But you ain’t no good girl,” he snickered, sliding his hand past your panties, “teasin’ me– tryna provoke me,” he shook his head, and a slick sound of your arousal could be heard as he worked two thick fingers through your wet folds.  

His finger poked at your hole where it ached for him. The thick tension between you weighed heavy with arousal as Joel leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Imma have to punish you for that, baby, put you in your place.”

A gasp left your lips as he pressed two fingers inside. The stretch stung slightly, but you welcomed the pain, liked it. A satisfied grin blossomed over your face as he started moving his fingers. They felt so good inside of you, so thick, almost like a cock, and the way his palm rubbed against your clit– it gave you just enough stimulation to push you towards the edge of an orgasm.

“Look at you, slut,” his breath was hot as he whispered in your ear, “so desperate to get fucked.”

A strangled moan escaped your throat, and you couldn’t help but grind against his fingers to chase the pleasure he was giving you. The degrading words and humiliation only made you wetter. Joel couldn’t get any more perfect– so far, he'd played his part to the T.

“In your– fuck!” You moaned as the pad of his fingers brushed up against your g-spot. Just a little more now, and he’d have you coming on his fingers.

“Didn’t hear you, sweetheart, y’need to speak up,” he taunted, continuing the pace of his fingers.

“In your d-dreams, old man,” you tried to spit out, but the pleasure he gave you was taking over, making you stumble over your words.

Quickly, Joel withdrew his fingers, sliding them up the front of your cunt, giving your clit a slap, before he backed off completely. You gasped; face pulled tight in a disappointed frown.

“What the fuck!?”

And then he fucking laughed, fucking laughed at you.

“I already told you, sweetheart, only good girls get rewarded.”

He stepped closer again, his hand cupping your cheek while the other pressed the fingers coated in your arousal to your lips. “Clean up your mess, and we’ll see ‘bout that reward.”

Parting your lips, he stuffed his fingers inside your mouth. They tasted of you, a sweet-salty taste. You closed your lips around them, and sucked, letting your tongue tease around his fingers the way you’d tease his cock. “That’s it, good girl,” he grinned, and it sparked a small flame of pride in your chest.

When he was pleased with you, he slipped his fingers from your mouth. He let them glide over your lips, smearing your lipstick and coating your lips in your own saliva as a set of headlights illuminated the street. Then, he patted your cheek, nodding towards what you assumed was your uber as it rolled to a stop in front of you, “Go on, get in the uber.”

In the uber Joel was quiet, ignoring you as were forced to make small talk with the driver (you’d give him a bad review just for that). When you thought the small talk had been torture enough, Joel slid his hand up your thigh, resting his big palm right at the seam of your leg as he looked out the window. If your panties weren’t already soaked from what he’d done to you in the alleyway of the club, then they definitely were now as the anticipation only grew.

Joel’s house wasn’t sad at all. It was quaint, and suburban, but homey. Nice. No expensive designer furniture, but sturdy and of good quality either way. He had no rare art, but a decent amount of family photos and what looked like a child’s drawings. You stopped in the middle of the stairs to admire them. In one of them Joel looked as old as you were now, with a baby in his arms, in another he had his arm around the shoulders of another man who looked a lot like him, just with darker hair. His brother probably, the one getting married. The little baby was a little girl, and she grew up in front of you; birthday parties, first days of school, soccer uniforms. Your eyes landed on a photo of her in a graduation cap with Joel and the other man at her side, grinning wide with a college diploma in her hands. This man wasn’t who you’d thought. He had a family– a daughter your age. The wall of memories squeezed at your heart, made something inside you always kept hidden break forth–

“You comin’?”

Joel waited at the top of the stairs for you, his face pulled into a confused frown. You skipped up the stairs, happy to have left your heels by his door. When you got to the top, you pushed at his chest, “Just looking at your sad things.” With a roll of his eyes, he led you to his bedroom.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, but his voice was distant, the bite from the club was gone.

It felt like the perfect opportunity to play with him.

“No,” you blinked innocently, your eyes wide as you watched him unbutton his green flannel, “you’ll have to make me.”

He let out a laugh that sounded more like a sigh, “I’m serious, sweetheart, I need to talk to you first.”

Talk?

“You can’t get it up, is that it? You’re too old?” you teased but sat down at the bed either way.

“You really are mean, aren’t ya?” His laugh sounded like a surrender. “A man wantin’ to be a gentleman and establish boundaries before he ruins her, and this is what he gets?”

Shaking his head, he walked closer, and cupped your head in his hands. “I plan on bein’ rough with ya, sweetheart, and I think that’s what you want too, isn’t it? Get fucked so hard you can’t think?” You nodded your head in his arms, the velvet bass of his voice going straight to your core.

“Listen’ closely– if I do anythin’ you don’t like, you say ‘red’ and we stop, and if you can’t speak then you pinch me, you hear?”

You nodded again.

“Words, baby, need y’to say it with that pretty voice.” His thumbs brushed over your cheek.

You nodded again, “Yes, sir… if I want you to stop, I say ‘red’, or pinch you.”

“Good girl,” he praised, “Anythin’ else?”

“Um…” Your front teeth caught on your bottom lip, “I’m on birth control– you can come inside me if you want.”

A noise rumbled in Joel’s chest. “Such a naughty girl,” his thumb brushed over the plump of your lips, “letting a stranger come inside her, huh?”

You nodded again, a wicked smile breaking against his thumb before you opened your mouth, and bit down. Not hard, just enough to pull a reaction from him, and you did.

Like a switch, the warm whiskey eyes faded into a deep black. The grip on your chin slid downwards, where it found your neck. He didn’t squeeze, but his grip wasn’t gentle either, holding you in place like a warning.

“You ought to treat me with more respect, brat…” he spat, his thumb digging into the column of your neck, “Apologize for your rude behavior.”

Against his hand, you shook your head to the best of your abilities, his grip tightening with your movement. You wished he’d choke you properly, make your head all fuzzy and empty– filled with nothing except for him.

“No.”

His face turned to stone above you, and you felt a giddiness flutter in your stomach.

 He didn’t like that.  

In one quick motion his hand was ripped from your throat as he stepped away. He didn’t look at you as he sighed, his hands falling to his belt buckle, sharp metal clinking.

Taking advantage of the moment, you admired the man before you. How big and broad he was. How his t-shirt stretched tight over his broad chest, biceps bulging against the woven fabric. You studied his hands as they fiddled with his buckle, thought about how good they’d felt inside you earlier, the pleasurable sting as they’d stretched you out.

“Get on your knees,” he ordered, voice cold.

When you didn’t move, he took matters into his own hands.

“Get. On. Your. Fuckin’. Knees.”

His grip around your wrist was tight, as he pushed you down. The hardwood floor dug into your knees as he manhandled you, sure to bruise tomorrow. He stood his ground in front of you, legs slightly parted as you were now eye level with his inviting bulge. He was big, and you felt your eyes widen. Even hidden away in his jeans you could see it, see the length of his hard cock strain against his thigh – it made your mouth water as you squeezed your thighs together.

“Look me in the eyes,” he told you, and your eyes flicked upwards – obedient for once. “Eyes up here at all times– Don’t you fuckin’ dare look away.”

He made it hard to do as he’d ordered, popping the button on his jeans, and pulling the zipper down. You wanted to see his cock, touch it, feel it inside you. He couldn’t possibly expect you to not look when it was right there.

"Disobedient slut.” 

The slap came quicker than the stolen glance, and your hand came up to graze your cheek on pure instinct. It stung under your palm, like a thousand little knives.

“What did I jus’ say?” He spat out the question, his hand gripping your chin to force eye contact.

“Look away?” you tried, your voice rising an octave.

“Open your fuckin’ mouth,” he sighed, leaning closer, “I ain’t wanna hear any more of your fuckin’ attitude.”

His grip tightened on your chin and your mouth dropped open by itself, “Open your mouth– that’s it… wider, just like that.”

Then he spat, right into your mouth.

You flinched at the suddenness of it, but Joel’s grip on your chin held you still– kept your mouth open, as you felt his spit slide further and further into your throat. You had a feeling you shouldn’t swallow until he told you, so you didn’t, your head pliant in his hand as you let him study you. A wide grin spread across his face as he moved your head from one side to the other, his rough fingers denting into your skin as you waited for your next command.

“Swallow, brat.”

He let go of your face, and you closed your mouth, swallowing down his spit with an audible gulp. “Good girl,” he muttered and stood tall, hooking his fingers into the waistband of his jeans.

The rough sound of denim against skin filled your ears as he freed himself. You were on your best behavior now, gathering your hands in your lap, sitting pretty for him as you locked eyes with him coquettishly.

“That’s better,” he said, “Actin’ like a proper good girl now,” he praised.

It took everything in you not to look, as he stepped closer.

With a fist tight around his cock, he brought the head to your mouth. He tapped it on your lips, smearing the precum beading at the tip and ruined your lipstick.

You wanted to taste him so badly, but he couldn’t know that. Pinching your lips together, you shook your head with wide coquettish eyes. His eyebrows pinched together in a frown, eyes narrowing at you as he pushed his cock against your lips.

“Open that pretty fuckin’ mouth, f’me,” he ordered.

Pretty. He called you pretty, and it was enough for you, you gathered, and stretched your mouth open for him.

“That’s it, wider.”

You twitched in surprise as he slapped the length against your tongue. It was heavy on your tongue, the salty taste of his precum mixing with your saliva as he rubbed the head over your tongue, in and out, in and out – coating his big cock in your saliva, “just like that, baby, get it nice ‘nd wet.”

Closing your lips around the mushroom tip, you ran your tongue around it in circles, teasing the underside and the slit, before you tipped your head back. His cock bobbed in front of you obscenely, a frown formed on his face again and you knew he was about to tell you off.

Gathering a blob of saliva in your mouth, you spat on his cock instead. A low humming laugh rumbled from Joel’s chest, as he collected your spit and rubbed it in over his shaft in slow strokes. The spit dripped down, down over your front where you felt it darken the fabric of your dress. Subtly, you reached your hands behind your back to pull at the zipper.

“Yeah, that’s right, get those pretty tits out f’me.”

He let you maneuver out of your dress while he stroked his cock slowly in front of your face, and finally, you could get a good look at him. He was bigger than you’d thought from his bulge. Veins lining his thick shaft as you watched the way his fist moved up, massaging the tip gently, and down again in a slow, steady rhythm. At the base unruly curls of dark hair shone in the spit gathering, and you let your eyes wander downward to his balls where they hung heavy.

You wanted to taste them, too.

With your dress discarded on the floor beside you, you sat up slightly, spreading your legs and tucking your calves up to your thighs. Almost naked, safe for the thong splitting your cheeks, you arched your back slightly, making sure he got a good view of your ass.

A groan rumbled in Joel’s chest, and a hand came down on your head, “You want my cock, don’t you, slut?” he spat, slapping his cock on your right cheek, spreading your spit on your skin.

“Do you make all your girls wait this long or is it just me?” you tutted, almost rolling your eyes at him.

“There’s that fuckin’ attitude again.”

Slapping his cock harder against your cheek, he leaned forward letting a blob of spit drip from his own lips, coating both his cock and your face as he rubbed it in with his cock.

It was obscene, degrading, and you’d never been wetter.

In desperation to taste him again, you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out. The hand he’d used to stroke himself, wrapped around your skull, caging his cock between his hand and your face as he started thrusting against your face, his heavy balls rubbing against your chin with every slow push.

It was messy, sloppy, and wet. He held your head steady with his other hand, while he continued rubbing his cock over your cheek, nose, and forehead. His spit mixed with your own as you lapped at the underside of his cock; trying to taste as much of him as he’d give you.

“You dirty little whore,” he smiled, “You like that don’t you?”

Under him you whimpered, clit pulsing with want as he made you his plaything, did what he wanted with you.

“Yeah,” you moaned unabashedly, licking greedily at the underside of his cock.

At that, he laughed, and the grip on your head loosened as he pulled back. You only had time to take a deep breath before he stuffed his cock down your throat. It was abrupt, and harsh – the hefty length of him making room for himself inside your mouth.

You couldn’t fit him all inside, gagging as the head of him hit the back of your throat. He held you there still, one second, two seconds, three seconds. Your hand found his thigh where you tapped at him, and finally he pulled away.

You gasped for air, your breath wet with spit as small tears pricked at your eyes. His hand landed on top of your head again, grounding you to the moment as he searched your eyes, checking in.

No, you tried to convey, you’re not too rough.

Pleased, his cock bumped against your lips again, and you dropped your mouth open for him again.

“That’s it,” he murmured, thrusting his cock back in your mouth, “let’me fuck that throat open.”

Dropping your jaw, you tried to make room for him in your mouth. It wasn’t easy, your lips stretched wide around the girth of him as you tried to calm yourself, to open your throat for him to abuse. His cock was easily the biggest cock you’d ever sucked, and you told yourself you needed to relax.

He pressed himself deeper, and you let out a whimper. “Work with me, slut, hold still.”

Trying your best to obey, you breathed through your nose, staving off your gag reflex the best you could as the head knocked at the back of your throat. His other hand cupped your chin, keeping your head still between his large hands. A tear rolled down your cheek when he rutted into your mouth, testing the waters.

“Good girl,” he praised, fucking gently into your mouth. Saliva gathered in your mouth, drooling down your chin with each thrust. “Such a fuckin’ mess– Look me in the eye as I fuck your throat.”

Your hand wrapped around his wrist, keeping you steady as you locked eyes with him. It was difficult, tears clouding him in a vignette, but you did as you were told. He studied you closely, tested your boundaries, completely in control.

You gasped for air when he finally pulled back again. A wet string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock. A proud smirk coated his lips, while his hand stroked your head in praise.

The small moment of relief passed quickly, and soon his cock was back in your throat, bruising it in a steady rhythm.

“Take that fuckin’ cock all the way down your throat, whore,” he spat, his thrust a little rougher now that he knew you could take it.

He had you at his mercy now as he ruined you. Ruined your throat, ruined your body, ruined you for other men. Tears mixed with snot, which mixed with spit as it ran down your chin, dripping lewdly onto your tits where it made a mess.

Over you, Joel rambled.

“Good fuckin’ slut.”

“Choke on that big fuckin’ cock.”

“You love it don’t you?”

And you did, you loved it. Joel made you feel useful for once in a life – a fucked up thought, but then again you never said you weren’t fucked up. Joel’s words were filthy and dirty, and as humiliating as they were he made you feel wanted.

You just wanted to be wanted.

Another gasp of air filled your lungs as he slipped from your mouth. His grip on your head was tighter now, his cock throbbing in front of you. As much as you wanted him to fuck you, you wouldn’t complain if he came down your throat. He’d given you so much already.

“Fuck,” he whispered and let go of your head.

You took the opportunity to catch your breath, sniffling as you wiped at the snot that clogged up your nose. His hand came down to squeeze at the base of himself, clearly staving off his orgasm.

“What,” you croaked, your voice hoarse after his assault on your throat, “you’re so old you can’t come now?”

His eyes darkened as they locked with yours, and a giddy bouncing feeling twisted in on itself in your tummy. You wanted to see what he’d do to you– how he’d fuck you, and if you’d have to push his buttons to see it, you gladly push the big red button.

His hand wrapped around your bicep, digging into the skin as he dragged you to your feet and pushed you towards the bed.

“Still a fuckin’ brat I see,” he spat, “We can’t have that can we?”

Putting on your best puppy dog eyes, you bit down on your bottom lip. “Who me?” you said innocently.

“Bend over, slut,” he ordered, his voice coated in a tone that said he was fed up with your bullshit. Strong arms turned you around, manhandling you, and pushed your front down on his bed, “’nd spread your fuckin’ legs.”

With a kick to your ankles, he forced your legs open. Tipping your head up, you locked eyes with your reflection in the window, like a camera lens capturing your ruin at Joel’s hand. He hovered over you, his eyes trailing over your naked body, laid out for him to take.

The first smack came quickly, hard, and brutal on your ass cheek. It made you jump, the muscles in your ass clenching as you tried to reel yourself in. Joel’s rough hand soothed over the burn immediately, and you turned your neck to find his eyes.

“I wanna hear an apology from you, brat,” he said calmly, one finger hooking into the lace of your thong.

You shook your head. Stubborn. “No.”

His head fell between his shoulders, while his finger hooked in your thong tightened its grip, and with a hard tug, he ripped it in two.

“Then I’m gonna have to punish ya.” He said it with a deep sigh, like he had no other choice.

You couldn’t hide the excitement that filled you at those words, your cunt now dripping with need. A need for Joel.

With the scrap of your thong now discarded his hand danced over your ass. You tried not to hold your breath, but he drew it out, and you couldn’t help it. The tension in the air so thick, you couldn’t focus.

Smack!

He spanked your other cheek hard, and the tension was released with a whimper. A tickling feeling of pins and needles spread through your cheek.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

They came in quick procession, your hands gripping the sheets for a lifeline as he put you in your place. Moans fell from your lips without abandon, and you felt yourself drip down your legs.

Smack!

“Look how wet you are,” he noticed, running a finger through your seam, “You like it? Only desperate whores like to get spanked.”

He leaned over you, his soft belly (when had he removed his shirt?) pressed against your back, coarse hair tickling your skin, as you felt his hard cock rub up against your sore ass.

“But that’s what you are, ain’t you? A desperate fucking whore.” His breath in your ear, had goosebumps erupt down your spine, and you sobbed out a whine.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he whispered, and pulled away – taking his warmth with him.

Smack!

Tears pushed their way behind your eyes, not because you didn’t like it, but it stung like a motherfucker. Joel wasn’t all brutal, he rubbed your skin between hits, but fuck if it didn’t also hurt with pleasure.

“Say you’re sorry,” he demanded.

Turning around you shook your head, big wide eyes watching him as he spanked you again.

Smack!

“You’re tearing up, little girl– It stings doesn’t it?” he asked, voice laced with fake pity.

You nodded.

“Well, maybe you should be a good girl then– say you’re sorry.”

Smack!

“I’m sorry!” you blurted out, voice cracking.

Finally.

Joel stopped immediately, his hand twisting around your waist to flip you on your back. His eyes danced over your body, almost tenderly but still full of lust. His hand moved up and down your sides, down the thick of your thigh before they gripped your ankles and tugged.

A squeal escaped you as he manhandled you, his large hands cupping your face while he fitted himself between your legs. “Good girl,” he cooed, thumbs stroking your cheeks, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You shook your head in his hands, popping your lip out in an innocent pout.

“No,” he cooed, removing a hand to fit between your bodies.

You gasped when you felt the head of his cock bump your clit, the first real stimulation you’d had since you’d left the ally by the club. Your hips bucked by themselves, chasing the friction of his touch.

“Who owns this cunt?” he asked you, dark eyes staring into yours as he dragged his cock through your soaked folds.

“You do, sir,” you sighed immediately, your whole body aching for him.

A wide wicked grin spread across his face, “Lookit you bein’ such a good girl– finally know your place, huh?”

With no warning, you felt the blunt head of him press at your opening, and then Joel pushed inside you. Your mouth parted in a gasp at the intrusion; eyes glazed over in bliss as you felt yourself get split in two around the girth of his cock. He was so big, filling you up inch by inch, a heavy pressure poking at the deepest part of yourself.

“There you go, baby– you jus’ take it. Take all that cock inside,” he grunted, eyebrows pinched tight.

All you could do was moan as you felt him bottom out inside you, “Shit,” you gasped, “So fuckin’ big.”

“I know, baby, you’re doin’ so good f’me,” he praised, starting to rock his hips into you.

He picked up the pace quickly when he was sure you could take it, splitting you open on his cock as he made you takeit. Under him you could feel yourself float away in the pleasure. His hand came up to wrap around your neck and a big smile spread across your face.

You felt so warm. Joel felt so fucking good.

He reduced you to a puddle, a puddle of pleasure and ecstasy. It was better than any drug you’d ever taken. Better than the first day of summer vacation. Better than anything you’d ever known. The sound of skin against skin faded away into a tranquil rhythm of pleasure. You belonged to him now, lived only for him and the way his cock felt inside you.

“Feel how deep that is?” he asked you, somehow having maneuvered your knees to press into your chest.

You couldn’t do anything other than nod, desperate and whiny. You needed to fucking come. Inside you, his cock bumped into a spot no other man had reached before, and a fluttering feeling coiled itself in your core.

You were so close now.

“Joel,” you gasped, searching for the words as he continued his pace, balls slapping hard against your ass.

“No,” he told you, teeth gritted, “You hold it, slut, you hold it ‘till I give you permission.”

Later, a thought of how he’d had you so close to coming without even a tap at your clit would graze you, but in this moment your thought were only filled with Joel. A hand found his bicep, you needed something to hold on to or you’d burst, and squeezed. Above you Joel’s groans and moans got louder.

“Hold it.”

Tears streamed down your face, as you heaved for breath. You were right there, right on the edge now.

Please, Joel, please, sir, please.

“Come.”

Arching your back off the mattress, you shook as you finally tipped over the edge of bliss. The sounds escaping your throat weren’t your own, they were someone else’s, someone possessed with pleasure.

A “Thank you,” fell from your lips, but you don’t think he heard you. Above you, Joel’s movement became more and more erratic, thrusting himself deeper and deeper before a loud groan vibrated through his chest.

“You take it,” he growled, “take all that fuckin’ cum inside.”

He slammed his hips hard against you, pushing himself as deep as he could inside you, and came with a loud primal groan. His cock twitched within your walls as he emptied himself inside your cunt, the warmth of him filled you up as he painted your walls with cum.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he mumbled, burying his face in your neck, “That cum feels so good inside, don’t it?” he cooed, and you nodded, your hands tangling in his hair. He pulled back and thrusted inside you again, fucking his cum deeper inside.

He stayed inside you as you both caught your breaths. His weight felt good on you, you were safe, as you floated somewhere between reality and a space you’d never been pushed to before.

And you missed him when he pulled away, sliding his half-hard cock from your fucked out cunt, dragging you with him up the bed. You reached for him, laying your hand open against his sheets, but he didn't see it, eyes mesmerized by his spend dripping out of you. His fingers slid through the mess, pushing his cum back inside as his eyes found yours.

Then something in the air shifted, and whatever had come over you, was gone. His fingers left streaks of wetness down the inside of your thigh as he pulled away. For the first time in your life, you didn’t know what to say.

You were ruined now – he’d ruined you for everyone who wasn’t him.

You sat up, turning your head over your shoulder to watch him, watch how his eyes trailed your body.

“Smoke?” you asked, your voice more unsteady than you’d thought.

Joel shook his head as you slung your feet off the bed to find your purse. He sat up against the pillows resting against his broken bed frame. Your eyes raked over his naked body as you fished a cigarette from your packet; drank in his strong arms, his wide chest and followed the dark hair of his happy trail down his belly to his soft cock between his thighs, still coated in your combined cum. Between your legs you could still feel his thick spend leak out of you.

You brought the cigarette to your lips, and just as you were about to light up Joel’s rough voice spoke, “Out the window,” he ordered with a nod in the direction of the window.

Everything was back to how it was before.

A dramatic huff escaped you, “All right…” you muttered.

You felt too heavy– he’d messed with your head; made you show him the real you. He couldn’t see that. So instead, you put your mask back on, turning to face the window to conceal the mischievous smile threating to spill across your face.

“Daddy.”

Behind you, as you cracked open the window, you heard the bed creak. You played it cool, lighting your cigarette and blowing the smoke out the window.

Joel’s breath teased at the back of your neck and over your bare shoulder, making goosebumps dance down your spine, “Thought I’d fucked the attitude out of ya,” his voice was stern.

“Guess I was wrong.”

part two -> here!

i hope someone liked this? a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[mrkis]

the love hotel. (m.l)

PAIRING: mark lee x fem!reader GENRE: smut WORD COUNT: 6.1k

SYNOPSIS: you meet a guy in a bar and end up going to a love hotel, both of you are in need of a release and you're more than happy to find it in each other.

WARNINGS: explicit content, mark is confident and forward at times, profanity, mentions of alcohol, unprotected sex, creampie, marks got a big cock as always, oral (receiving and giving), hair pulling, mentions of spanking, 'baby' for use of petname, slight dirty talking

He’s been staring at you the entire night.

Truthfully, you’ve been staring at him too. 

The first time was when you entered the bar to meet a friend, spotting him ordering his drink of choice and peering over his shoulder to look at the overcrowded bar and accidentally meeting your eyes. It was quick—subtle—before focussing his attention back on the bartender and you with greeting your friend.

The second was when you were on your way to the bathroom, a slight bump with another customer caused you to stumble and when you both turned to apologise to each other, you could see him again, over that person's shoulder, sitting alone in the corner of the dimly lit room, pint glass resting on his lips as you catch eyes once again before disappearing around the corner.

The third, and what should have been final, was when your friend had drunkenly whisked you up from your seat to go dance to one of your shared favourite songs, her arms loosely wrapped around you while loudly screaming the lyrics in your ears and of course, you joined in, but your gaze couldn’t help but stray to the same man who’s attention was now fully locked on you, chin resting on his palm as he observes. 

Normally, in any other circumstance, you would be freaked out and would give the stranger the dirtiest look you can muster to make him look away, but this was different. He was an incredibly attractive man, and you wanted him to keep looking. You liked his attention and you would be lying if you said it didn’t boost your ego.

It was when midnight grew close that you wanted either one of you to make the first move and you decided to stay behind while your friend was waiting for her boyfriend to pick her up. She pouted, her bottom lip protruding as slurred, drunken words spilled from her lips, wanting to stay and enjoy the rest of the night. However, you knew she had already reached her limit and you gently insisted that she go home to get a good night’s rest as you guided her into the passenger seat of the car, exchanging a few words with her boyfriend before the car disappeared out of sight.

Back at the bar, you find yourself stealing glances at the stranger over the rim of your glass, using the wine as a source of liquid courage to muster the confidence to make the first move yourself, but your confidence begins to wave when you notice him engrossed in his phone, his thumb tapping the screen while he holding his half-empty beer bottle. Was he preparing to leave? Ordering a cab back to his place?

“Pretty boy usually stays until closing,” A sudden voice snaps you back to reality and your head slowly turns to the bartender who’s looking back at you with a smirk, sliding an untouched beer bottle in your direction. You open your mouth to speak, to tell him that you didn’t order a beer but he’s quick to explain: “It’s on the house… it’s his favourite.”

A grin spreads across your lips as you realise that the bartender was playing the role of the biggest wingman of the night. You thank him gratefully and he responds with a wink, fixing up a drink for another customer that comes up to the bar and with your newfound confidence, you pick up the beer bottle and your own drink, making your way over to the strangers table with a determined stride. 

“You look lonely,” His gaze raises up from his phone to settle on you when he hears your voice, eyebrows subtly raising at your arrival. “Mind if I join you?”

“Seat is all yours.” He responds, and in an instant, the tone of his voice makes you fumble. The confidence you once possessed seemed to chip away and almost fold for the man in front of you, as if you were putting in his hands. However, you surprise yourself as you manage to stay calm and composed.

With a straight posture and an unwavering smile, you confidently settle into the seat across from him, determined to not falter under his intense gaze; dark and curious eyes watching your move. You extend your arm over the table, sliding the beer bottle in his direction until it stops in front of him.

“For you,”

“For me?” He repeats, a soft hum escaping his lips. His fingers reach out, wrapping around the neck of the bottle, and the silver rings adorning his hand lightly tap against the glass as he turns it to inspect the brand. His eyebrows raise in pleasant surprise, “How did you know I like this?”

“I have my ways,” You say, your voice carrying a hint of playfulness before you tell him honestly, “Bartender picked it out. Said it was your favourite?”

“It is,” He agrees with a nod of his head and a smile that makes you feel a little giddy, unable to tear your eyes away the prettiest sight you’ve ever seen. It’s almost embarrassing the effect he has on you already. “Thank you, I’m grateful… I’ll buy you your next?”

Realistically, you should tell him that the drink you gave him was actually given to you for free and that no money was actually spent, but the thought of him buying you your next drink was a clear invitation to spend more time with him and there was no way you could pass up the opportunity, not when it was so simply handed to you.

So, you smile, you nod and you take a sip of your wine to hide the excitement on your face, although you’re unsure if you’re doing a good job at hiding it with how your cheeks ache from smiling and your eyes lit up.

Conversation surprisingly flows naturally between you both. You find out his name is Mark which, you think, suits his face perfectly. When you tell him your name, he repeats it, almost with a soft whisper and it takes everything within you not to jump over the table and claim his lips to yours. 

He’s employed, but doesn’t tell you what his profession is (which maybe should’ve been a red flag, but you like to think he keeps that side of him private to separate work and his personal life). He’s twenty-four, he’s single and he enjoys taking pictures of things he finds pretty, especially sunsets and to that he admits he feels blessed to see the view of when the oranges bleed into with the yellows, or when the subtle pinks of the clouds appear in blue skies.

The way Mark speaks leaves you captivated, how he explains things with so much adoration and detail, appreciating even the littlest of things that makes your chest fill with warmth.

But it’s when he rolls up his sleeves during mid-conversation that almost makes you start drooling, unable to focus on anything but the veins and his muscles that bulge when he crosses his arms over his chest, leaning back comfortably in the chair.

“You good over there?” Mark asks, noticing your silence. You immediately snap out of your trance, gaze meeting his and seeing the teasing glint in his eyes. “You’ve gone quiet on me.”

“Sorry,” You blurt a quick apology and come up with a lie, “I think the wine is getting to me.”

“Right,” He hums, lips curling into a smile as he reaches for his beer, taking a sip. But the head of the bottle grazes over his mouth when his phone buzzes against the table, pausing to peer down at the screen to see what it could be.

Another vibration follows, then other, and other and you see his jaw clench in annoyance, sighing as he places his bottle down to pick up his phone, swiping up to view the full set of messages that continue coming through.

Your lips press together tightly as you watch him. You’re not irritated at him checking his phone, you’ve had his attention for the majority of the night, you’re more concerned than anything, especially with the repetitiveness.

You give him a smile, “Need to leave?”

“No, no. It’s just, uh, work related stuff,” He explains to you briefly, not going into too much detail and you nod in understanding, bringing your wine to your lips to take a sip. Mark’s gaze falls on you as he looks up from his phone, “But I don’t mind leaving if you’re up for it?”

You try your best to mask your surprise at his forwardness in wanting to leave with you. But you shouldn’t be surprised, this is exactly what you’ve wanted from the start.

“Oh? Where would you like to go?”

“There’s a place just around the corner from here. Have you seen it? The building with the red neon lights?”

You have, but it doesn’t hurt to play dumb every now and then. “No, I haven’t. What is it?”

Mark begins to smile, “It’s this type of hotel that’s for two—or more—people wanting privacy. Couples and strangers can go, especially if they want to spend the night together. You can use it for just a normal one-night type of stay… but it's commonly used as a Love Hotel.”

“A Love Hotel?” You repeat, the excitement and arousal building up within at the thought of spending a night alone with him. Of course you want it, and you want it bad, but you can’t help but tease and be playful about it. “What makes you think I want to spend a night with you there?”

“I don’t,” Mark shrugs his shoulders, the smile still unwavering. “It’s completely up to you. You say no and we can just forget about it. I'll pay for the rest of our drinks and if you want to leave, I’ll happily pay for your cab to make sure you get home safe.”

“And If I say yes?”

Mark tilts his head to the side as he takes you in, “I think you know what happens if you say yes.”

You can’t hide your grin this time, biting down on your lower lip, “Was this your plan from the start? To get me to the hotel?”

“No,” Mark laughs, “Truthfully, I would fuck you here in the bathroom if you were up for it but,” He then trails off, tongue prodding at his inner cheek as he smiles once more. “You deserve something better than that, don’t you think?”

Mark’s arm is loosely draped around your shoulder, palm in yours, fingers interlaced and squeezing your hand every few steps you take as he leads you towards the entrance of the Love Hotel.

The neon red lighting was almost blinding up close and you had to duck your head low to keep your eyes from stinging, but the architecture and the décor of the building was enough to make you stare in awe, especially when you stepped inside.

The lower lighting is a lot more comforting to the eyes but still the familiar red hues. Fake (maybe real, you weren’t entirely sure) vines were hanging down the walls with roses attached to a few stems and paper hearts of different variations of pink were scattered across the ceiling and flooring. 

There was no traditional reception area, which left you slightly puzzled about how to check in for a room. However, Mark, with a reassuring smile, guides you towards a digital touch screen display at the end of the hall. You watch curiously as he taps a few icons, causing a row of room options to appear on the screen.

He turns to you, his smile still remaining. “Do you want a room that comes with alcohol? Snacks?”

You shake your head, “I’m fine. Unless you want anything?” 

Mark shakes his head and gives your hand a gentle squeeze, indicating that he’s content too. He selects one of the rooms and you observe a loading screen with animated heart shaped bubbles before a price is displayed.

Mark doesn’t give you enough time to fully process the number as he swiftly taps his card against the machine to finalise the transaction, receiving another heart-shaped bubble with ‘successful!’ titled in the middle before he leads you down a different hallway with a series of doors, some displaying vacant signs while others are occupied. Mark doesn’t give you enough time to gape at the number before he’s already tapping his card against the machine and walking you down a different hallway with a set of doors, some with a vacant sign and others preoccupied.

“Soundproof,” Mark comments, noticing the expression on your face. “Total, complete privacy for the guests.”

The question that has been lingering on the tip of your tongue finally escapes. “Have you been here before?”

“No, I haven’t,” He answers honestly with a laugh. “But a friend of mine has been here a few times. That’s why I know so much about it.”

You respond with a teasing tone, “To prepare you for when you decide to bring someone?” 

Mark chuckles and places his hand on the doorknob of a room, casting a playful glance in your direction and replied, “More like having been forced to listen during breakfast,” He pauses for a moment and he smirks before continuing, “Good thing I listened, hm?”

When he opens the door to the room, he guides you to walk in first with a gentle hand on your lower back. The colour and décor of the room didn’t surprise you; in fact, you expected the ongoing colour theme of pinks and reds. However, the singular white couch in the corner of the room makes you snort, even though it does have a few fluffy red pillows on the seats.

With your shoes kicked off at the entrance, you take a few steps further into the room and your curiosity leads you over to the bedside table where you find a bowl of condoms, each in different sizes and flavours. It brings out a quiet chuckle from you, a smirk present on your lips as you place the bowl back down in its rightful place.

Turning your attention to Mark, he has his back to you, engrossed in scrolling through another digital touchscreen display that's on the wall, messing around with the light settings off the room, and you laugh out loud when he accidentally leaves the room pitch black before turning it as bright as it possible.

He glances over his shoulder at you with a sheepish smile and finally adjusts the lights to a suitable setting. You observe him as he focuses his attention on the music selection, and it makes you smile at how serious he’s being.

It’s amusing, really. How you’re both here for one thing and one thing only but he’s taking his time setting the mood. It’s quite endearing. 

“Alright,” Mark mumbles beneath his breath as he finally chooses a song, something sensual and at perfect volume. “Do you—”

You no longer waste anymore time, arms thrown over his shoulders to bring him forwards and press your lips to his, his lips soft and warm. Mark’s eyes are opened wide, clearly surprised at you being the one to make the first move and he laughs against your mouth, his own arms winding around your waist, hands pressing against your back, drawing you closer to him and kissing you back deeply.

You’re losing yourself in him already; tasting the beer on his lips, his aftershave filling your senses, how his thumb draws mindless patterns on your back as his tongue dips into your mouth when you part your lips to gasp.

He’s walking, leading you blindly backwards and you let out a surprised noise when you stumble over your own foot. You refuse to let the embarrassment seep in and possibly ruin the moment so you continue kissing him, sucking on his bottom lip which earns a grunt of approval. 

Mark stops leading you backwards just as your calves bump into the edge of the bed and his fingers come around your body to unfasten the button on your pants, exhaling into the kiss as he pushes his mouth harder to yours as your hands come to unbuckle the belt on his own.

Breaking the kiss, you both rid each other of your clothes, leaving you in your underwear and mentally give yourself a pat on the back for wearing a matching set, feeling confident at the way Mark’s staring you down at you.

Then, he smiles—a smile so pretty that it leaves you flustered. He squats down slightly, wrapping his arms around your lower back and he lifts you up from the floor, his face pressed between your boobs, feeling his warm breath fan against your skin. It tickles and you can’t help but laugh, securing your legs around his waist to ensure you don’t fall, even though he has a firm grip on you.

Your fingers thread through Mark’s hair as he kisses and licks at your chest, sucking at the skin as he turns and sits at the edge of the bed, settling you in his lap as his hands come down to grab at your ass, palm coming down once hard on your cheek and you mewl at the sting, tugging on his roots.

“Touch me,” You plead, arching back away from his lips to get a good look at him, adrenaline pumping through your veins at his appearance; his lips are swollen, eyes dark and hazy, hair a mess and cheeks rosy. “Please. I want you to touch me.”

“Yeah?” He hums, eyebrow twitching. “How bad?”

You huff, refusing to answer his teasing as you kiss him again, tilting your head to the side with your hands cupping his cheeks. He smiles against your lips and slides a hand between your bodies, pressing two fingers to your clit over your underwear and you hiss at the contact, tightening your grip on him.

“You wanted me to touch you,” You hear him mutter as he pulls away from your lips, giving you one chaste kiss. “I’m just doing as you ordered.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You glare at him playfully before deciding to take matters into your own hands.

He frowns and looks confused when you slide off of him, opening his mouth to possibly apologise for his previous teasing but he tilts his head to the side, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline in amusement as he watches you get down on your knees in front of him.

You’re pulling at his boxers to get them off and Mark even raises his hips a little to help you out, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as you slide them down his legs and throw them somewhere behind you, not caring for where it lands as you wrap your hand around his cock.

caring for where they land as you wrap your hand around his cock. 

He inhales sharply, leaning back on his hands to watch you as you tug at his cock, squeezing at the base and pressing your thumb against the slit, causing him to let out a breathy laugh as he tilts his head back.

The effect you have on him already builds your arousal, your pussy throbbing around nothing and you feel your underwear stick to your folds uncomfortably. But you ignore it, you push it to the side and focus your attention on him as you stick out your tongue, teasing him with a few kitten licks.

Mark’s stomach sucks in with a gasp before the muscles tense, “Fuck.”

You bring his cock further into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks around him as you suck hard, using your tongue to tease beneath his sensitive head. Mark’s chest rumbles with a groan and he reaches out, placing his hand on the back of your head and you gaze up at him, struggling to smile with your mouth full.

“Taking it so well,” Mark praises, eyes refusing to leave yours as he watches his cock disappear deeper down your throat, enthralled by the way you’re bobbing your head and swallowing around him. “That’s it. Good girl… Can I fuck your pretty throat?” You immediately nod your head. “No, tell me I can. Use your words.”

His cock falls out of your mouth with a lewd pop, “Please. Fuck my throat.”

“Thank you.” You're surprised at his gratitude, but it doesn’t last long as Mark’s already easing his cock back into your mouth, tears pricking at your eyes as his tip hits the back of your throat and a guttural groan leaves his lips.

He’s thrusting his hips faster and you let your jaw hang loose, doing your best to use your tongue and suck him in whenever your nose brushes against his abdomen. Your throat feels raw already, on the verge of coughing or gagging you weren’t sure. The size of his cock was enough to have you gargling and Mark seems to enjoy your struggles as he smiles down at you, petting the back of your head before resuming his grip.

“Gonna cum,” He warns you. “Gonna cum in your mouth, yeah? Can you swallow it for me? Please?”

Who are you to say no to that? You take the initiative, bobbing your head and using your hands to fondle his balls, tipping him over the edge and with one harsh thrust of his hips, you feel his cock twitch on your tongue before spurts of cum paints the back of your throat and you moan around him, swallowing every last drop he gives you.

Mark’s hand tightens in your hair as he pulls you off of his cock, tilting your head back with a tug and you wince but welcome the burn on your scalp. You’re panting heavily, trying to catch your breath, inhaling and exhaling steadily through your nose as he’s leaning in, pressing a gentle kiss to the middle of your forehead, wiping the drool and cum off of your lips with his thumb.

“Good girl,” He praises you, now using his other hand to delicately wipe at your tear stained cheeks. “Did so well for me. Want me to get you some water?”

“No,” You shake your head, voice coarse. “I just want to feel you—I need to feel you.”

“Not yet,” Mark tells you and you almost feel like you could cry, desperate to feel his cock, wanting to satisfy the ache between your thighs. 

He cups your elbows as he pulls you up from your kneeling position on the floor and keeps you locked between his legs, nimble fingers reaching around to unhook your bra before they dip beneath the waistband on your lacy panties, pulling them down your legs slowly as he keeps eye contact with you.

“Why do you love to tease so much?” You find yourself asking.

He shrugs his shoulders, pressing a quick kiss to your tummy as he answers, “Turns me on.” His hands grip the flesh of your thighs, massaging the skin as he hums. “Think you can stand for a little longer?”

You’re confused now, brows pulling together as you look down at him, “What do you mean?”

“Wanna eat you out like this,” Mark tells you, licking at his lips as he pulls you closer to his face, his hand tightening on your thigh. “Want your leg over my shoulder. You can grab my hair to hold yourself up, if you want. But I promise I’m not going to let you fall.”

Despite still being confused, you’re also a little curious about the position which ends up with your agreeing, letting out a noise of surprise when he shuffles closer to the end of the bed before hooking your thigh on his shoulder, resting his hands on your ass to stabilise you. 

You feel the strain on the back of your calf, almost on your tiptoes at an unusual angle, but all your worries and concerns disperse when you feel his tongue lick between your folds, flicking over your clit which makes you gasp. 

Your body curls in on him, hands threading through his hair as his mouth attaches to your pussy completely, squeezing your ass as he sucks on your clit. Pleasure courses through your veins, a shrill buzzing up your spine and moans fall from your lips, unable to control your volume.

He’s grunting against you as you rut against his face, mumbling incoherent words about how good you taste. His tongue dips inside your cunt and you mewl, fingers curling in his hair and he moans loudly, the vibrations making your legs quiver and you’re afraid you’ll slip, but Mark seems to understand your concern and suddenly he’s pulling away, unhooking your leg off of his shoulder to throw you down onto the bed.

You don’t have time to register what’s fully happened as he’s already crawling between your thighs and attaching his mouth to your cunt again, diving in with his tongue, the wet muscle pushing into your quivering hole and you mewl, your fingers finding his hair again and tugging.

He’s pulling your legs over his shoulders to push his face closer to your cunt and you happily oblige as you wrap your legs around his head, keeping him locked in and your back arches, uncontrollable gasps and moans leaving your lips. 

Mark’s nose nudges against your clit, making your toes curl at the stimulation and eyes roll to the back of his head, losing yourself in the pleasure and the sound of his own muffled moans as he laps at you hungrily, hands glued to your hips to keep you still. 

As if you were going to move away. 

You’re enjoying this way too much and you internally thank whoever for giving him the talent to eat pussy as good as he does. You could almost cry tears of absolute joy. 

It when you feel his lips suck on your clit again that forcefully rips you out of your head and you curse, bottom lip tucking between your teeth and brows pulling together in pleasure as you pull harder on his hair, a smile threatening to slip across your lips as you hear him moan once more.

The second his hand falls from your hip to join his mouth at your pussy, easing two fingers inside your cunt as he makes a mess of spit and drool on your clit, you feel the knot in your stomach tightening, inching you closer and closer to your release.

“Mark,” You whine. “I’m gonna cum.”

He nods in response, fucking you faster and harder with his fingers, sucking on your clit with so much vigor it has you wailing, making you wonder if the soundproof walls weren’t enough to even hide your sounds of pleasure.

It’s euphoric when you reach your high, a choked gasp ripping from the back of your throat as you arch your back, hips rutting against his face and he continues his motions, feeling him smile as your orgasm takes over your body completely.

You’re overwhelmed; sweat beading at your hairline, vision blurry and mind blank. You feel like you’re choking, trying to catch your breath as your chest heaves rapidly, pulling at his hair to get him to stop which he reluctantly does, pressing gentle kisses on your inner thighs as your legs drop from his shoulders limply. 

“God,” Mark groans as he leans up to settle on his knees. His chin is covered in spit and your arousal, hair a complete mess. His fingers carefully slip out of your pussy and your jaw drops open with a sharp inhale, watching with hazy eyes as he brings them to his mouth, sucking them clean. “Fuck. You taste good.”

You find yourself unable to talk back, too focussed on trying to catch your breath and come back to earth, the silk sheets uncomfortably sticky on your clammy skin. 

Mark’s leaning over you now, smiling as he caresses your cheek, blowing cool air on your face. “Are you okay?”

“Perfect.” You tell him.

“Good,” He whispers, bending down to press his lips to yours. You taste yourself as his tongue dips into your mouth to tangle with your own, tilting his head to kiss you deeper as he carefully lays between your legs, bare chest flushed against yours. He pulls away to ask, “More?”

“Yes,” You nod immediately. “Need you. Please.”

“You don’t have to beg with me,” Mark smiles, kissing your lips again before looking down, “I might have to finger you again though—”

“No,” You shake your head this time. “I need your cock.”

He softly whispers your name, “But—”

“It’s fine. I can take it,” You assure him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to prevent him from moving, although you know he can easily move away if he wanted to. “I’m fine. I just need your cock. I need to feel you. I’ll beg, I swear—”

“Hey, hey,” Mark cuts you off this time, stroking your cheek to calm you down. “I told you, you don’t have to beg with me. I’ll give you what you want… Just promise me, yeah? Promise me you’re fine.”

“I promise.”

“Okay.”

You can feel his cock pressed against your thigh and your body shivers, grip loosening on him as he leans back to look down at your cunt, grabbing his cock with one hand while the other massages your thighs.

His hips move forward as he drags his cock through your folds, hissing through his teeth as his tip bumps against your clit. Your lips press together tightly as you feel the head of his cock against your entrance, and he lifts his head to meet your gaze, giving you one last silent ask and you nod your head.

Your mouth pops open with a gasp as he pushes into you, stretching you out on his cock, feeling the burn in your inner thighs and walls as your pussy struggles to swallow him, inch by inch. He’s not even halfway in yet and you do start to fear that maybe you can’t take him fully.

“Jesus, fuck, baby,” Mark begins to curse, sucking sharply through his teeth, eyes locked in on your puffy folds wrapped around his cock. “Sucking me in so tight—shit—you need to relax for me. You can do that? Yeah? Relax a little for me?”

“Too big.” You whine out, tears forming at your lash line, hands gripping the bed sheets.

“I know, I know,” Mark coos softly, carefully leaning over your body and you make a muffled noise as his cock moves a little further inside. He litters kisses across your cheeks and jawline, “Doing so well already for me, though. Relax and breathe for me…. Deep breaths, baby.”

The simple pet name shouldn’t make you feel the way it does, but your chest blooms with warmth at his caring tone and you find yourself relaxing, taking steady breaths as he pushes deeper inside, stretching you out completely as his hips press to yours.

Mark waits for a few moments, lips still kissing at your jawline as he gives you body time to adjust to the sheer size of his cock before he begins to thrust slowly, pulling back to leave the tip of his cock inside before thrusting all the way in.

Your hands slide up to his shoulder blades, nails digging into his skin and he moans at the contact, panting in the crevice of your neck, leaving wet kisses in his path as his hips find a suitable pace, pebbled nipples brushing against his chest.

“Faster.” You tell him, only to squeal in surprise when he actually starts to fuck you faster—and harder, the bed rocking with each powerful thrust. 

His lips meet yours in a messy kiss, panting into each other's mouths as your fingers tug at the hair on the nape of his neck. The tight grip he has on your hips is pleasant and his cock hits deep, making your legs quiver and shake as he ruts into you. 

You’re trying to keep up with the kiss, you really are. But the pleasure becomes too overwhelming and you’re stuck with your mouth open, uncontrollably moaning and on the verge of tears. It makes you feel a little pathetic to be crying over someone’s cock… but this someone’s cock is definitely worth crying over.

Mark’s loud too, much to your delight. The moans and grunts leave his lips, cursing through incoherent words that sound like praises but you struggle to make out what he’s saying, head too blank and the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in your ears.

That knot in your stomach slowly starts to tighten again and you whine, grip tightening in fear that the pace he’s fucking you will slow down or come to a stop, despite it being obvious he wasn’t going to do any of those things.

“You close?” Mark hums, eyes meeting yours. “Feels like you’re close, baby. Gonna cum for me? Make a mess on my cock like the good girl you are?”

His words make your head spin and you struggle to nod.

“Yeah?” He practically purrs, making that knot in your stomach feel as though it’s about to snap. “I’m gonna cum for you too. Fill this pussy up. Is that okay? Want me to fill you up? Fuck you full of cum?”

You nod your head once more.

“Say it. Use your words.”

“Fuck, please. Fill me up. Do whatever you want, just don’t stop—”

He chuckles, “Cute.”

You weren’t exactly sure what had tipped you over the edge. Was it his lips against your neck? His whispers of praises in your ear? The pace of his hips that fucked his cock into you? Or his hand that slipped between your bodies to rub your clit? 

It could be any—it could be all of the above.

But whatever it was had your pussy clamping around his cock, sucking him tightly as your second orgasm of the night hit you hard. Your head flung back against the pillows, back arching as your body trembles uncontrollably.

Mark fucks your through your high, fingers still rubbing at your clit, leaving you a shaking and sensitive mess. Then he makes a noise, a noise that sends a tingle down your spine and he cums, thrusting at a slow and steady pace as he empties himself inside your pussy. 

You’re both panting heavily, skin glistening with sweat and bodies sticky. It’s a little uncomfortable, but you make no effort to care about it as your body lays limp against the bed, trying to catch your breath. You watch with hazy vision as Mark slowly lifts himself off you, your face twisting as you feel his cock slide out of your sensitive cunt.

Your hips jerk when his fingers brush over your messy folds, scooping his cum and pushing it back inside. You whine at the feeling and you can hear him chuckle, mumbling a quiet apology before he stands from the bed.

You don’t have time to wonder where he’s going as he’s already returning back with a wet towel in hand. He sits back down, gently prying open your legs to clean you up and truthfully, you’re a little shocked. This has never happened before with your previous hook-ups, so you didn’t expect it to happen to you today. You’re pleasantly surprised, so you allow him to continue.

“You alright?” Mark asks once he’s finished. His hand massages your thighs and you’re too into the touch to notice he’s asked you a question until he calls out your name.

“What?”

Mark grins, “I asked if you are alright.”

“I’m more than alright,” You admit truthfully, causing the grin on his face to widen. You go to sit up this time and he kindly grabs your elbow, helping you upright and keeping his hold on you. His other hand reaches out to push at the stray hairs that stick to your sweaty face before he leans forward, pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is short and sweet, not lasting as long as you had hoped and it leaves you craving for more when he pulls away.

“So,” You clear your throat, voice still a little hoarse. “What now?”

“What now?” Mark repeats, humming in thought. “First, I’m going to get you some water to ease that throat of yours,” Mark says as he slips off the bed to grab a bottle of water from the mini-fridge on the other side of the room. “Then, if you want, I can fuck you again.”

Your brows raise, intrigued. “Really?”

“We have this room for an entire night,” Mark says as he returns back to you, holding out the water for you to take with a grin on his lips. “Why not make the most of it?”

©𝗠𝗥𝗞𝗜𝗦

[sturnsdarling]

save a horse...

you and Matt go to a ranch for your anniversary and end up finding an old abandoned barn, taking the perfect opportunity to live your true wild west fantasy.

vibe check: smutty fluff, cowgirl position (obvi), public (kind of) sex

3k words

A/N: it hurts to write my dreams instead of living them. anyways the idea of cowboy!matt makes me feel a bit wobbly in the knees so this is my version of that, this fic is dedicated to the one and only cas (@sturnioz) because she, and I quote, 'loves this shit'

love and cigs, merc

It was yours and Matts year anniversary, you were driving through the South West, Matts hand on your thigh as you drove towards the ranch you had found as a surprise for him.

It was huge, an old family run ranch in the middle of nowhere. Recently, Matt had been on a kick about reconnecting with nature so, with your anniversary coming up you thought a long weekend in a ranch would be perfect for him to live out his cowboy dreams.

When you got there,

the family that rented it out was welcoming and lovely, showing you both the little house you'd be staying in for the weekend. It was an old converted barn, all the old wood work still intact and the furnishings being very on theme for yours and Matts 'wild west' weekend.

It was perfect, and the look on Matts face when he saw the cracks of light seeping through the cracking wood walls made everything worth it.

Once you guys had dropped off your stuff,

you and Matt decided to wander around the grounds and find a nice spot to have a picnic. After a while of walking about and taking photos of the beautiful scenery, you noticed a large tree a little ways walk from where you were, telling Matt it was the perfect spot and he agreed, looping his arm over your shoulder and leading you both to the tree.

When you sat down,

Matt laid down your picnic blanket and told you to sit down, saying he'd get everything ready and that you didn't have to do anything. You complied, watching as he unpacked everything, the bright orange sun illuminating his beautiful face perfectly.

"I can feel you starin' at me, you know" Matt smirked, pulling to plastic wine glasses out the basket followed by a bottle of root beer.

"i'm not staring, i'm admiring" you corrected him.

Matt chuckled, shaking his head and turning to face you, hooking a soft finger under your chin and pulling your head up to him. He pressed a tender kiss on your glossy lips, slotting his mouth between yours perfectly. You let out a satisfied hum into the kiss, relishing in the feeling of his lips on yours.

Matt pulled away and opened the bottle of soda, he held it out to you like a waiter holding wine and made a fancy, silly face, "will this do, your highness" he spoke in a posh English accent.

you giggled, nodding and trying to pull a serious face, "yes, that will do nicely" you mimicked his tone.

Matt chuckled and poured you a cup of soda before pouring his own, holding it out to you to cheers before sitting down next to you on the blanket.

You were facing the horizon, watching as the sun began to set, leaving the sky a hazy orange and pink swirl of colours. You rested your head on Matts shoulder and he turned to place a soft kiss on your hair.

"happy anniversary, beautiful" Matt said, softly.

You lifted your head, resting your chin on his shoulder as he looked down at you, batting your lashes at him as you gazed at him, "happy anniversary, my love"

He smiled, placing a soft kiss on your lips before turning back to face the sunset.

You stayed there for a while, eating, laughing and enjoying each others company. The sun was still setting, and you were laying on Matts chest, peppering soft kisses all over his face as he chuckled beneath you. You were giggling the whole time, loving how he let you shower him with love like you so desperately wanted to twenty four seven. Matt placed his large hands on your hips, flipping you both over so he was on top of you. You giggled at the swift movement, and Matt hovered over you, watching in awe at the way your face lit up when you laughed.

Your giggles subsided, and you looked up to Matt, who's eyes were flitting between yours and your lips. You looked to his plump lips, and bit down on your bottom lip at the sight of him looking at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

Matt craned his head down, pressing his lips against yours with a firm hand on your jaw. You wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss with a swipe of your tongue against his lip. He accepted your invitation and pressed his warm tongue against yours, absentmindedly grinding his hips down into yours as you hooked one leg around his waist.

Everything was perfect, you were in a beautiful place, with a beautiful boy, making out on a picnic blanket like sneaky teenagers trying to get some alone time in the wild west.

Once the sun had begun to slip under the horizon, you decided to do some more exploring before heading back to where you were staying.

On your adventure, you guys had spotted an old barn, it was falling apart at the seams and looked as if no one had touched it in years.

"we have to go see inside" you said, pulling Matt towards the old barn with your hand in his.

He followed you, letting you lead him town the dry hill towards the large old structure.

You reached the doors, pulling on the old lock slightly as it basically crumbled in your hand. Matt reached above your head, pulling the door open and letting you walk in.

It was like a time capsule, bails of old hay everywhere, old horse riding equipment and a beat up tractor in the middle.

"this is so cool" Matt said, looking around in awe.

You were just looking at him, watching his face light up with every new thing he noticed. You did a full lap of the barn, and didn't take your eyes off him once, just letting him guide you about with his fingers locked between yours.

"y'staring again, baby" He chuckled, turning to face you, placing his hands round your waist and pulling you into him.

you looped your hands around his neck, "admiring" you corrected him again, brushing your lips over his.

Matt pulled you into him, capturing your lips in a kiss that was quick to become desperate. His warm tongue pressed and pushed against yours as your hands found the tangled curls at the back of his head. His hand snuck down to your ass, gripping and squeezing at the flesh over your flowery sundress. Matt walked you backwards towards the bails of hay, laying you down gently on top of them without breaking the kiss.

He laid you down, one hand on your face and the other on your thigh as he looped your leg around his waist. Matt ground his hips down onto yours, pressing his growing cock against your pussy as your dress fell bunched around your waist. You whimpered into the kiss, tugging at Matts hair and pulling him closer into you with your leg.

Matts hand wandered up your leg, pushing your dress further up with his soft hands as his hand edged impossibly close to where the two of you connected. He pressed and kneaded at your skin as he ground his hips down into your core, hard and slowly, chasing his own friction just as much as he was trying to help you chase yours.

You whined into Matts mouth once more, biting down on his lip and bucking your hips into his. Matt chuckled, breaking the kiss and pulling away from you slightly.

"so needy" He muttered, lips still brushing yours.

"you like it when I'm needy" you pretended to sulk, earning a smile from Matt

Matt nodded, quickly pressing his lips to yours once more, "I love it, baby, y'so sexy when you're all desperate f'me" Matt smirked.

You let out a satisfied hum and kissed him again, this time, just after kissing you back for a moment, Matt began to trail is lips down your neck and along your chest, pulling at the bust of your dress with delicate fingers to expose your hard nipple to him. He locked his mouth around it, sucking down before biting it between his teeth, toothing the sting with another warm press of his tongue.

Your back arched into him, your head falling back onto the hay with a small moan. Matt made his way down your body, watching as you arched into his touch, bunching your dress around your hips and coming to eye level with your already soaked folds. Matt groaned at the sight when he saw you weren't wearing any underwear, his mind reeling at the thought of you not wearing any all day.

Your folds glistened for him, and he swiped a gentle finger over your core, earning a soft moan from your lips as you bucked your hips, chasing the feeling.

"so pretty and perfect" Matt uttered, his breath hot over your pussy as he edged impossibly close.

He wanted to tease you, he really did, but the sight of you like this for him, in a pretty sundress, spread open in an old barn with cowgirl boots on and no underwear, Matt was desperate to taste you.

Matt pressed a soft kiss against your slick folds, brushing his thumb over your puffy clit as his tongue dipped into your sopping hole. Your hands found his hair, pressing gentle fingers into his scalp as he began to lap at your pussy.

A soft, breathy moan left your lips, your legs coming to hang over his shoulders, boots wrapped behind his head as he groaned at the taste of you on his tongue.

"fuck, Matt, that feels so good" you moaned, head rolling on its hinge as your eyes fluttered shut.

Matt hummed in response, the vibrations making you clench around nothing as he continued to lap and kiss at your pussy, his nose brushing against your clit periodically, sending bouts of shivers up your spine every time.

It was blissful, his slow pace making your whole body tingle as you moaned his name, unable to stop the noises that left your mouth. He was bringing you to eye watering orgasm with just his mouth, working you so slow and tenderly, his steady pace making your stomach tense and your legs tighten around his head. You were a whimpering mess, moaning his name over and over again as you approached your high on his tongue.

it was as if Matt had a sixth sense that was tuned into your body, knowing exactly when you were going to cum without having to be told. He kept his pace, lapping softly at your pussy, driving you to a piercing orgasm. You were seeing stars, releasing your cum all over his mouth as you ground your hips against his face desperately.

Matt continued his pressure against your pussy, helping you ride out your orgasm. Your hands found his jaw, and you pulled at him, dragging him away from your pussy and whimpering as you pulled him upwards to you. Matt chuckled, crawling up your body and following your request as you pulled him down into you, kissing him with feverish need.

"see how good you taste, baby?" Matt spoke into your mouth.

You whined into the kiss, and Matt flipped you both over, so you were on top of him, sopping pussy pressed against the rough material of his jeans. He toyed with the fabric of your dress, pushing his hands under the material and pressing bruises into your skin as you ground down onto him, kissing him like he was oxygen and you were struggling to breathe.

You moved your kisses down his neck, inching your hands down the buttons of his shirt. You expertly unbuttoned his flannel, his bare chest exposed to you as you pushed it open, leaving it loose on his arms. You arched into him as you peppered wet kisses down his stubble ridden jaw, down his neck and across his chest. You were crawling down his body, your tongue inching closer and closer to the little trail of hair that led to your favourite thing.

You paused as you reached his bulge, palming him through his jeans as you looked up at him through your lashes. You fiddled with his belt, Matt helping you remove his jeans and boxers in one swift movement. His leaking cock slapped against his stomach, the sight of it making your mouth water as Matts gentle hand found your jaw, moving to the back of your head to take a handful of your hair.

You took Matts length in your hand, pumping him slowly as you hovered your mouth over his leaking tip. His head hung back, jaw slack as a soft moan left his lips.

You wrapped your lips around him, lowering your head down his length with a flat tongue against his stiff length. Matts grip on your hair tightened, him fighting every muscle in his body not to fuck into your mouth, wanting to let you do your thing that you did so well. You began to bob your head up and down against him, hollowing your cheeks out as you let him bottom out in your throat.

Matt gently guided your head down onto him, pressing his hips against your lips as you gagged around him.

"fuck, baby, your mouth feels s'good" Matt said breathlessly, letting you continue to bob up and down on him.

You hummed around him, the vibration sending a jolt up his spine as he softly bucked his hips into your mouth. Your hand came up to his balls, cupping him with a tender pressure, a throaty moan escaped his lips at the sensation, his eyes fluttering closed as he let you work your mouth over him.

Pools of saliva gathered at the corners of your mouth, your throat opening to take his whole length as you flattened your tongue against him, the thick vein running up his cock tickling your taste buds as you lost yourself in the motion.

Matts stomach began to tighten, legs twitching periodically and you knew his was close. Before he could unload in your mouth, you pulled off him completely with a pop, earning a desperate whine from Matt who's head shot up at the feeling of your mouth no longer around him.

"why'd you stop?" he whined, eyes trained on your glistening mouth.

you chuckled, rising to straddle him, pumping his wet and sticky cock from behind you as you lined yourself up with his tip.

"I wanna ride you, cowboy" you said seductively, swiping his cock through your puffy folds.

Matt groaned at you taking control, loving when you rode him and loving it even more when you called him silly nicknames like that. He attempted to muster up a witty reply, but his train of thought was cut off by your gummy walls clenching around him as you lowered yourself onto his cock.

Matt let out a blissful sigh, eyes closing at the sensation of being nestled in your warm pussy. You bit down on your lip as he entered you, bringing your hands to rest on his chest as small whimpers left your throat, instinctively grinding your clit down against the small scattering of hair at the base of his cock.

Matts eyes fluttered open, locking with yours as he took in the sight above him, one hand finding your hip as the other tucked behind his head. He loved you like this, needy and desperate to make him feel good, and the sight of you, tits hanging out your dress as it laid bunched up around your hips, steadily bouncing up and down his hard cock, made his head spin.

You leaned forward slightly, pressing your body weight against Matts chest though your palms and you began to shift your ass up and down, dragging your tight walls over his cock as you milked him.

Matts grip on your hip was bruising, him holding you steady as you rode him. His lip was tucked between his perfect teeth, relishing in the sight of you fucking him. Your eyes were closed in pure pleasure, the stretch of your pussy around his cock making you feel lightheaded. His hand came to your ass, kneading at the flesh under your dress, he smacked the fleshy fat, soothing the sting with a massaging touch before repeating his action, spanking you as you bounced on him.

His spanks egged you on, making you feel all the more confident. You opened your eyes and smiled down at him, lip tight between your teeth.

"you look so good like this, pretty girl" He cheesed at you, shaking his head in disbelief that you were his.

You smiled at him, blushing slightly at the compliment as you picked up your pace, causing Matt to moan, his eyes closing as his head craned back into the hay.

"cum inside me, Matt, please, cum for me whilst I ride you" you muttered, your words coming out accompanied by moans, his dick hitting your gummy g-spot as you fucked down onto him harder.

Matt let out a guttural groan, pulling his hand from behind his head and palming your tit, his fingers pressing bruises into your flesh as he maintained heavy eye contact with you though his low hanging lashes.

You picked up your pace, shifting so you were rested on the bottoms of your feet, knees tight against your chest as you fucked him at a relentless pace. Matt couldn't control the noises that left his throat at the new position, the angle letting him hit a deeper spot inside you, your walls tight around his cock as he began to fuck up into you, matching your pace.

The moan that left you was throaty, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Matts balls slapped against your ass with every thrust of his hips, meeting you in the middle as you rode him.

Matts movements began to falter, breathy moans leaving his lips as he kneaded at any exposed flesh of yours he could. You were clenching hard around him, moaning his name, begging him to cum.

He didn't need to be told twice, his hand moved up to cup your jaw, pulling you own into a sloppy kiss as he pressed his cock base deep inside of you, his hips stuttering as he released spurts of white, warm cup into your perfect pussy, filling you up just like you asked. He bit down on your lip as the last remnants of his cum left his tip, coating his dick as you continued to fuck down onto him.

"I love you" he breathed into your open mouth, his whole body relaxing back into the hay.

You followed suit, letting your body weight drop down onto him as the ache of your thighs became instantly prominent, "I love you too" you muttered.

You were both spent, Matt pulling out of you with a hiss as you slumped down onto him, one leg by his side and the other over his hips. He pressed a long kiss into your hair, trailing soft tickles over your arm as you nestled into him, catching your breath on his chest.

The sun was fully set, and the light of the moon was creeping through the cracks in the battered barn walls. Crickets began to chirp outside, the night time wild life coming alive outside the barn doors.

It was a perfect end to a perfect day, and without meaning to, you both fell asleep on the hay, tangled up in one another in the warm embrace of the warm western air.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10 @cherib3lla @jetaimevous

[godsandmonsters505]

Roll Like Thunder | Negan Smith

dbf!Negan Smith (The Walking Dead) x younger fem!reader

(AU where the apocalypse never happened)

Summary: Negan is your dad's best friend and the two of you settle some tension while on your family vacation.

Warnings (18+): age gap (reader is college age, maybe 20-ish, and Negan's age is not specified but I'm feeling early 50s), smut (fem receiving oral, unprotected p in v), possibility of getting caught, edging

Notes: this actually kinda turned out sweet in a way I think, which is surprising because that's not often an outcome when I write for Negan lmao. not proofread yet because I just wanted to get it out to you all asap, but will edit if needed when I get the chance. hope you enjoy!! (also the intro is kinda long oops)

Grabbing your glass of wine you take another much needed swig, cringing at your dad and uncle. They always find some way to turn every conversation into a political argument while the rest of your family eat their meals and exchange knowing glances

Family holidays were always like this. The one time a year when everyone was together: your parents, aunt, uncle and cousins. Only this year, there was a new addition.

Negan had grown up being a close friends with both your father and uncle and they are still best friends to this day. He recently went through a messy divorce and this is his first Christmas without his wife in a long time. Your dad never was good with showing kindness or friendship, but your uncle had convinced him it would be a good idea to invite him to his cabin for your annual Christmas getaway.

And that's how you got here.

You'd always had a little bit of a crush on Negan, for as long as you could remember. Though you never saw much of him as a kid. It wasn't until you got older - old enough to be able to drink in front of your parents - that you got to spend more time with him. Drinking was a big part of their social life, so once you could join in, you got to know him better. You got on well with your parents so you'd have barbeques with them and their friends, join in with conversations in the kitchen when they'd have people over, go out to dinner. But then you went off to college and started spending less and less time with them. So now it's Christmas time, you're happy to be able to spend time with your family. And Negan, more than you'd care to admit.

"Okay fellas," your mom chimes in. "Enough of that."

Negan makes eye contact with you from across the other side of the table and you smirk at each other. You're both all too familiar with watching this from an outside perspective.

"The food's delicious, Negan," she adds, turning to Negan, who had cooked this meal for you all. Sort of as a thank you for letting him tag along. For the first few days in the cabin he felt a little out of place, like he was intruding on your family's time together. But eventually he began to find himself settling. You were lucky to have a very fun, non-judgmental family so everyone was happy to have him there.

You nodded in agreement with your mother's statement. "I'd have more if there was any left." You motion to your empty plate.

"I'm glad it's got your approval, ladies," he grins.

The meal comes to an end and alcohol starts flowing. Your cousins are all younger than you so they head off to their bedrooms to do whatever it is kids their age do.

"I'd better get these dishes cleaned," Negan declares, standing up from his seat.

"No," you say, protesting. "You cooked. I'll clean."

"It's fine, you don't have to," he says kindly.

"I want to," you smile. "Really I'm happy to."

"We'll do them together?" He suggests, coming to a compromise and you nod in agreement.

"You raised a stubborn one," he mumbles teasingly to your dad, patting his shoulder as he walks past him.

"She gets that from me," your mom chirps as the two of you pick the plates up from the table and carry them into the kitchen.

Putting the plates on the kitchen top, you head to the fridge and look inside.

"Beer?" you ask, peeking around the door to look at Negan's response. Though you already have two cans in your hand, knowing he won't turn down the offer.

He nods. "Can't do anything without a drink in hand in this family, huh?"

You close the fridge door and pass him his beer, cracking open his own.

"You should be more than aware of that," you tease. "I've heard what you and my dad used to get up to."

"I'm sure you've not even heard the most of it," he teases back.

You laugh softly under your breath at his response.

"I'll wash, you dry?" You suggest as the sink begins to fill with soapy water.

The two of you get the dishes done relatively quickly as Negan tells you a story from his college days. You have to keep yourself composed and remember who he is. Remember that these stories he's telling of him at your age took place before you were even born. A decade before, at least. But, every so often, as you pass him the plates to dry, your fingers touch his and such a small motion has you weak. You can't look him directly in the eyes as he stands so close to you. That signature grin of his spread across his face.

The two of your finish and you take a large swig of your beer, but it's no surprise that the flush of alcohol doesn't help your body heat. You can only hope and pray that your cheeks aren't beetroot red right now.

"I'm sure you've got plenty of stories, though, right?" He asks. "Being in college and all. And with your dad's genes...God."

A playful smile spreads on your face. "Sure. I'm absolutely not telling you though. My dad would have a heart attack."

"Ahh," he smiles back. "So this whole 'good girl' thing is just an act, then?"

Holy shit. Good girl? He has no clue what he is doing to you calling you things like that.

"I can be good when it suits me." You say, almost flirtatiously, and immediately kick yourself. Why the hell would you say something like that to him?

Your off-the-cuff reply has him grinning. He swipes his tongue over his teeth as he contemplates your words and you almost drop to your knees.

"Let's go see what political debate has become the talking point now," you say, changing the topic to hide your complete embarrassment. You leave the kitchen and head to the living room, Negan following.

Somehow, in the time it took you to wash the dishes, your mom and aunt have gone through a bottle and a half of wine, and they're sat on the floor with your dad and uncle playing some sort of drinking game.

You sit down on the couch and Negan sits next to you. Why? Why could he not just sit away from you? Give you some space to compose yourself? But the action is completely innocent. There is just less than a foot between the two of you, yet it still feels like he is on top of you. Like you're breathing the same air.

"What was I just saying?" Negan says, nudging your arm with his elbow. "Alcohol."

You shake your head in playful disagreement with your relatives' actions.

"Hey, mom," you say and her head whips around, as laughter escapes her lips. "Think you've had enough for tonight?"

"Oh, you're so boring," she waves her hand at you dismissively.

The four of them continue for about half an hour as you and Negan observe and laugh. The game finally comes to an end when your aunt and uncle discreetly head off to their bedroom for a reason you don't even want to think about. Your parents follow shortly after, your dad having to carry your drunk mom up the stairs.

You come back from the kitchen where you were getting another lager for you and Negan. As you do so, you look for the TV controller and find a blanket that was lying around. You sit down again next to Negan and look down at your phone to check the time.

"God, it's not even 10 o'clock yet." You laugh.

"Amateurs," he says sarcastically.

You pass him his beer which he thanks you for, then get under you blanket.

"Want some?" You ask, holding out some excess blanket towards him.

"Sure," he accepts, getting comfortable himself.

The whole situation you're in is completely innocent, but it dawns on you that you're currently alone with Negan, tucked under the same blanket. Given that fact, you make a conscious effort not to touch him at all and try to remain composed.

"Put a movie on?" You ask him, passing the TV remote to him.

He takes it from your hand, brushing his fingertips across yours.

You watch him carefully as he selects a film to put on, making sure not to get caught admiring him. He just looks so good. The salt and pepper sprinkled throughout his hair and beard. The tattoos that cover his arms. The way his white t-shirt hugs his body just right. You're brought out of your thoughts when he speaks.

"You seen Batman Returns?" He asks, looking down at you.

"Of course," you smile. "It's a classic."

"Feel like watching it again?"

You nod. You'll watch whatever he wants. Do whatever he wants.

"Absolutely," you answer. "I didn't peg you as a Batman kind of guy, to be honest."

"Like you say, it's a classic," he says. "Plus there's always Michelle Pfeiffer."

You laugh at him. "I feel you."

You polish off another beer as you watch the film. You try your best to pay attention, to keep your eyes open, but you grow increasingly tired. It must have only been fifteen minutes into the film when you finally drift off, reality slipping away.

When you wake up again, it takes a while to fully gain consciousness, You feel something under you head, under your arm, but you don't pay much attention to it.

You feel warm. Comfortable. You don't want to wake up, you could stay here forever. The smell of men's shampoo and cologne comforts you, a soft material under the touch of your hand.

All of a sudden reality dawns on you. You realise that your head is leaning on a shoulder. That your hand is draped across a torso. You shoot up, sitting upright and see Negan smiling at you softly through slightly hooded eyes.

"Oh God," you say, feeling incredibly humiliated. "I'm sorry." But he just chuckles.

You look over to the television and see a black screen.

"Did the movie finish?" You ask groggily and he nods. Fuck. You slept for the entire duration of the film and who knows how much of that time you spent laying on Negan's shoulder.

What you're only just realising now, though, is how close you're still sat to him. How even though you're sat up, Negan's shoulder is casually draped across the back of the sofa, dangerously close to your shoulder blades.

"Why didn't you just wake me up?" You ask, feeling flushed.

"You looked peaceful." He answers, honestly. "Didn't want to disrupt you."

"I'm sorry," you apologize again. "You should've woken me up."

"I didn't mind, sweetheart." He insists. "Honestly."

The pet name drives you utterly insane. As if this whole thing wasn't already enough. Your body feels so hot. What with the blanket, his body heat, your arousal.

"I will say though, you do talk quite a bit in your sleep," he smiles coyly and dread shoots through your entire body.

"Wh-what-" you can't even get a full sentence out. "What did I-"

A flash of a dream comes back to you in that moment. Oh God. Oh God, no. You can't remember the details, but you remember the feeling. Negan on top of you. His body weight on you. The ecstasy you felt. His hands on your body. His name slipping from your lips.

You had a sex dream about Negan while you were laying on his Goddamn shoulder. You're lost for words, but Negan is enjoying watching this play out. He bites his lip, trying to suppress his smug grin as he watches you realise the possibilities of what you might have said.

His arm slowly slips off the back of the sofa and creeps around to touch you, the movement making you flinch a little. What is he doing?

He takes his other hand and places two fingers just under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The two of you make eye contact and you can't even contemplate what is happening - still a little groggy from your nap - before his lips are coming down gently on yours.

You kiss him back almost immediately. It's a surprising delicate and intimate kiss, and you daringly bring your hand up to his neck to pull him in deeper, but he pulls back.

You worry that he is having second thoughts, but the look in his eyes says the complete opposite. He just wants to get a good look at you before he tears you apart. You feel vulnerable under his hungry eyes but you love how it makes you feel.

The two of you take a moment to catch your breath before your lips join again, this time the kiss rougher. More passionate. His arms wrap around your back to pull your body snug to his and you intwine your fingers into his hair, tugging ever so slightly. His large hands snake further down and grab your hips, pulling you onto his lap. As you get comfortable you shift along his length and gasp, feeling that he is already hard.

"You were practically fucking dry humping me in your sleep," he chuckles. "You can't blame me."

"So that's why you didn't want to wake me up, then?" You're barely able to mumble, teasing him.

"Hmm, maybe." You can feel him smile into the kiss and it makes you want him more. Everything about him is so endearing. He just radiates this warmth, this aura, and it's radiating.

Even now, however, you're nervous to move things along. You know what you want but this is still so surreal, and it would be an understatement to say you feel a little intimidated in this moment. You have enough sexual experience, but this is Negan. This is different. So you're glad when he takes control and begins to lift up your top, pulling it over your head to expose your bra.

His mouth makes contact with the flesh of your chest, sucking and nipping while he reaches around to unhook your bra. He feels his cock twitch when he sees your bare breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth immediately as his warm hands roam and caress your back, travelling over your smooth skin.

As you start to subconsciously grind into his bulge, Negan continues to explore your breasts. You're looking for any kind of relief and you begin to find some as he presses up into you, but both of your pants are restricting you.

You feel yourself crumbling further and further as Negan's hands come around to aid him with his attention to your breasts, squeezing and practically groaning as he does so. The noise changes something inside you, and makes you realise that you need him stripped of his clothes right this second.

You grasp the bottom of his shirt and he briefly pulls away from you to allow you to move it, but the second you're done, his lips are back on your skin, leaving marks on your collarbone and neck. Next, you move onto the buckle of his belt but he swats your hand away.

Pulling back from the kiss, you look to him with wide eyes full of confusion. That look alone is nearly enough to cause him to fold and fuck you right then and there. But he has other plans.

"Be patient for me, honey," he says sweetly, and as badly as you want him, you trust him.

He pulls your body flush to his, so that your breasts are pressed entirely against the heat of his chest. Then he grips your lower back and stands up, holding you tightly.

"We can't do this here," he says, carrying you towards the stairs. You grind up against him playfully as he does so and he stops momentarily half way up the stairs, clearly affected by the action. In retaliation he gently swats your ass and you giggle at his response.

"Shh," he hushes, but he can't hide the grin that spreads across his face as you bury your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound.

Being as quiet as possible, he takes you into his bedroom which - awkwardly - is across the hall from your parents' room.

He puts you down on the bed, barely allowing himself to be away from you for a second, climbing on top of you hastily. He goes back to kissing you, the taste of him intoxicating. The way he kisses are gentle yet so hot and passionate at the same time, becoming increasingly sloppy as they shift from your lips to your jaw, neck, chest, abdomen, until you're a writhing mess beneath him.

Once he has kissed so far that he reaches the waist line of your trousers, he unbuttons them and pulls them all the way down. He throws them onto the floor, leaving you just in your lace black panties. He nudges your legs open and moves his kisses to your thigh. He's slowly breaking you and you're not sure how much more you can take. Painstakingly slow, he trails his tongue up your inner thigh until he reaches the edge of your panties.

Eventually he slips your panties off and you tremble as you feel the cool air of his room against your hot, aching core. He places his hands on your inner thighs to push them open further, mouth watering at the sight of you. The delicate touch of his fingers send shivers up your spine and you're in desperate need of more.

"Please, Negan," you say, barely a croak.

"Shh, let me take care of you," he soothes, his voice low and gravelly as he tries his best to stay quiet. "Wanted to taste this sweet pussy for so long."

As if to affirm his words, he lowers his head and licks a stripe straight through your folds, groaning as he feels how wet you are.

He then moves his mouth to make contact with your clit, your hips raising at the action. He starts off by sucking gently, leaving you aching for more as you reach down to grab his hair, not knowing what else to do. He chuckles as you do so and sends vibrations straight through your core. Unable to control yourself, a moan escapes you lips and he squeezes your thighs warningly, wordlessly telling you to be quiet.

He takes his time to precisely pull you apart, but then his motions begins to get harsher, faster. You feel that rising feeling in the pit of your stomach begin to spread after waiting for what feels like so long. He alternates between kissing, sucking, licking, nipping until you're desperate for more. Sensing this, he teases one finger at your entrance.

"Please," you whimper, legs trembling. He answers your pleading by pushing his single digit inside you in one long push, as deep as he can go, and keeping it there momentarily. As he continues to eat you out, he begins moving his finger, fucking you gently. When he adds a second finger you have to clasp your hand over your own mouth to stop yourself from calling out his name. Your legs wrap around his head, wanting to pull him closer to you in any way possible.

Closing your eyes, you feel that white hot feeling flooding through your veins, but right as you're about to reach your peak, he pulls his fingers out and his mouth away from you.

You let out a guttural sound, one of desperation which causes Negan to laugh under his breath.

"Negan, God, please," you whine, putting both your hands on his head and pushing him back down.

"So bossy," he mumbles with a smile on his face, but he obliges.

He doesn't use his fingers on you again, but it makes no difference. You're already pent up enough as it is that it won't take a lot to make you reach your peak. Plus, you don't doubt that Negan's skillful mouth is more than enough for you.

He circles his tongue around your clit, going back to sucking while using his free fingers to absentmindedly trace little patterns into your thighs. The only noises are your heavy pants and the wetness of his mouth against you, and it fills the otherwise deadly silent bedroom.

He's starting to become more familiar with your body and your reactions and he can tell you're getting close again. To which he stops and pulls away yet again.

"Negan," you almost cry. Tears prick in the corners of your eyes as you throb for him. "Please, I need to-"

"I got you baby," he assures you, stroking the flesh of your thighs comfortingly.

You can't bare it. You almost despise him for doing this to you, but you can't. It's all so surreal: having this man between your thighs. So often you have fantasized of it and though it's so wrong, it's now happening.

Before you can beg again, his lips make contact with you. This time he's a man on a mission. His tongue flicks against your clit as two of his fingers slip back inside you. You're so wet that it's an easy motion, but you still feel the tight, delicious stretch. He allows you to get used to it, building you up until he adds a third finger and you have to use all your power not to yell out his name. You try your hardest not to hurt Negan by squeezing your thighs too much or pulling his hair too hard, but he loves it. He loves driving you crazy, seeing you unwind for him. The noises you make. The taste of you.

Relentlessly, he penetrates you with his fingers, pushing and curling his fingers deep inside you, hitting a spot that eventually brings you your release. One last push, one last flick of his tongue and you're falling over the edge. You squeeze your eyes shut and you can't help the animalistic sound that leaves you as white flashes behind your eyelids. He continues eating you out through your orgasm and it hits you that you think you're doing something you never have before.

Once you manage to come around again, you let your legs relax and look down to Negan who looks up at you. He smiles smugly, your wetness remaining in his beard and it causes you to go weak in the knees.

"Did I just-?" Squirt, you want to say. But somehow it doesn't seem like the nicest word to describe what just happened between of the two.

He nods with a glimmer in his eyes as he makes his way up the bed, his body above yours.

"I've never-" you croak. "I've never done that before."

"You just needed a man, that's all," he gloats and you roll your eyes. "It was hot as fuck, for what it's worth."

He leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips. You can taste yourself on him.

You're still shaking a little, but you manage to pull back a little to look him in his eyes.

"Are we really doing this?" You ask, bordering on timid.

"Do you want to?" He counters.

"Yes," you say, quickly, not wanting him to think you're having doubts. Because there is absolutely no doubt in your mind that you want the man above him. Hell, you need him. But somehow you find yourself feeling a little insecure and needing reassurance. "Do you?"

"Darling," he laughs. "Not to be crude, but you just came all over my face. I want this more than you know."

You nod and smile, feeling more confident. "I'm sorry, I just-"

He interrupts your babbling with a long kiss to your lips, silencing you.

"You need to worry less," he says, bringing his hand to stroke your cheek sweetly.

"Make me." You propose flirtingly, smiling up at him.

"That I can do." His lips crash down on yours and his tongue intertwines with yours.

Reaching down to his pants you fumble with his zip, which he helps your shaky hands undo. He shifts both his pants and boxers down off his ankles, and though you can't see his length fully from this angle, you can feel its hardness press against your lower stomach and he feels big.

"You ready, baby?" He raises his brow at you as he grips his member and teases it through your folds.

"Yes, please Negan," you pant, even after having the best orgasm of your life, you still need more. "Need you inside me."

He groans as he slips inside of you and the way you practically beg for him drives him crazy.

"So fucking tight, holy shit," he mumbles into your ear, his head dropping down to bite and suck on the crook of your neck. "Oh, baby, fuck."

Hearing him say such obscene things affects you in an indescribable way. His voice has always been massively attractive to you, but now...you're done for. The deep rumble, smooth like honey, even lower in an attempt to remain quiet to your family in the surrounding bedrooms. It's like dark magic. It has you hooked. He could say the right thing to you with that voice and you'd cum right there and then.

His movements are slow, savoring the sensation of you around him. He wants to take his time with you. He never wants it to be over.

Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his back and lift your hips up wanting more from you. He maintains his pace, but does start pushing deeper inside you like you wanted.

"I've wanted you for so long," you say, not even in control of your words anymore. It's like he's fucking them right out of you. He moans into your neck at your admission and starts thrusting a little faster, as if in response to your statement.

"Do you know-" he stops speaking for a moment to breathe and compose himself, clearly enjoying this as much as you, "how often I get myself off thinking about you?" He punctuates his point with a particularly hard thrust and that - in combination with the idea of him masturbating to the thought of you - causes you to cry out. You thought he would shush you, but he seems too far gone at this point.

"A fucking pretty little thing like you," he says, his hands groping at your tits, his touch rougher than before, "it'd be hard not to."

"Oh god," you whimper. "Harder, please."

His movements get harsher gradually, following your command and getting you closer and closer every second.

He lifts his head up and the way he looks at you makes your insides collapse. To be the sole object of his attention. How he looks at you like you're all that ever mattered.

"I'm so close, Negan," you tell him.

"Taking me so fucking well, darling," he praises, reaching one hand down to lazily play with your clit. That's all it takes and he can feel it coming as you begin to squeeze around him. He takes your lips in a long, sensual kiss as you climax, trying to muffle your moans as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your hands are wrapped around his back, squeezing into his shoulders as you try your hardest to be quiet. Pure pleasure surges through your veins as he presses his entire body weight into you: suffocating in the most beautiful way possible.

Gradually, Negan's movements come to a halt and he stops moving inside you briefly, letting go of you come down from your high.

"You're gonna be the fucking death of me," he declares and before you can reply, he suddenly starts moving inside you again, faster than the last time, placing a quick peck on the tip of your nose as he does so.

He soon reaches a pace much faster than before and you're rendered speechless.

Your attention is grabbed, however, by the open and shut of a door somewhere. You gasp and your eyes widen at the sound. The possibilities of who it could be and if they'd heard you start to race through your mind but your thoughts are cut off when Negan clasps a hand firmly over your mouth to keep you quiet. He presses you further into the mattress as he fucks you even harder than before, enjoying tormenting you.

You listen closely to the footsteps. They're quite loud - that of a man - probably your dad or uncle. The pitter patter grows closer and your heard races, both from the fear of getting caught and from the sensation of Negan deep inside you. Hitting places you're sure no other man ever has or ever could. You relax a little as you hear the footsteps pass Negan's bedroom and head into the shared bathroom, the door closing afterwards.

Negan takes his hand off your mouth and you gasp for air.

"Oh my god, please don't stop," you beg as he sets a pace and sticks with it, snaking his slender fingers back down to your clit and circling it gently.

"I don't plan on," he chimes. "You're taking me so well."

You've never felt anything like this. Your entire body is numb and slick with sweat. All you can do is grab onto his hair and try your best to lift your hips to meet his thrusts.

To help you out, he grabs your body and switches positions slightly. He lifts himself up then clutches your thighs, lifting them onto his shoulders. Then his hands grip onto your hips and he has access to you in a way that allows him to go much deeper. You know you can't take much more. You're close to crying just from how much you want to scream his name.

Your eyes keep fluttering shut but you force them opening, wanting to keep them on the man doing this to you. His tousled hair, his flexed biceps, his tattooed chest.

"Harder, please," you whisper. "I'm nearly there."

Thrusting harder, he also adds his fingers back to your clit, rubbing harshly. It's almost painful on your sensitive nerves but it feels unreal and it's enough to build you up to near-ecstasy.

Your mouth hangs open but you refrain from making any noise. In one unexpected motion, he lands a slap to your clit and it sends your orgasm rushing.

"Good girl, that's it," he guides you through as your body starts to spasm.

He continually pounds into you and turns his head to the side to place soft kisses to your inner thigh, contrasting the way he now ruthlessly moves inside of you.

You contract around him as you cum and you can tell he is trying his hardest to hold on as he visibly hesitates, not knowing where to release.

"Cum inside me, Negan," you give permission. "Want it so bad."

Those words were all he needed as he spills inside you, the warm liquid filling you.

Gradually, his movements slow down as he fucks you through the both of your orgasms, fucking his cum deeper inside you, and then pulls out and collapses next to you.

You rest your head on his shoulder and to your surprise, he pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss to your forehead.

"Holy shit," you giggle, the whole situation setting in.

Negan's about to speak but his sentence stops forming when the bathroom door opens and closes again. You'd completely forgot about that.

The two of you exchange a glance as you wait for the footsteps to disappear down the hallway. Once they're gone, you relax back into his embrace.

Absentmindedly, you place your hand on Negan's warm chest, tracing the ink of his tattoos. Its surprisingly comforting having him this close, to be held by him. You're entranced by the smell of his cologne and the way his chest heaves up and down, catching his breath. He smiles as he watches you, equally as entranced by you. He can't quite believe that the daydreams he thought were exactly that - daydreams - have come to life.

"We'll have to do this again," he grins coyly, "some place where you can scream my name as loud as you need to." His hands run over your body, cupping your breasts as if to appreciate as much of you as possible.

"I'd like that," you smile back, snuggling into his arms. You know you can't stay here all night, but you'll appreciate it for as long as possible.

[mvth3r]

thinking about late night conversations over card games in alexandria…

cw: 18+ MDNI, p-in-v sex, alcohol consumption

a/n: quick drabble that took over my brain while i was procrastinating on my paper for class, oops!

finding alexandria and joining the community was a real blessing, even with how tumultuous the group’s early days had been.

not because it was an impenetrable fortress, or because their worries had completely disappeared, no.

alexandria allowed them to slow down, and work their bodies out of the constant fight or flight they’d grown accustomed to on the road. now, well settled and strengthening the community every day, they were able to partake in some old world joys.

every now and then, after all the kids, including a begrudging carl, had gone to bed and all the day’s duties were finished, the grown folks would pull out a couple old bottles of wine to share and a deck of cards that someone had discovered in the kitchen’s junk drawer.

it was a stress reliever, you thought, to be sitting around the table with your people, sipping on something red and smooth and telling jokes and stories over an easy game of spades. mostly, it reminded you of your college days, cracking open cheap beers with your homegirls after a hard week of coursework, especially when the alcohol started to kick in and mouths started running.

like tonight.

you and rosita were hitting the wine a little hard, both of you having been gone the last few days on a run that hadn't panned out to be worth the trouble. you were two glasses deep to rosita's three while everyone else was still nursing their first.

the cards had been dealt over and over by this point, with the losing team leaving the table for the next pair to have a turn. you and michonne were currently duking it out with rick and carol, who were unfortunately wiping the floor with you.

you tossed a card to the center, watching rick swipe up the pile shortly after, and met his smirk with a teasing glare, "you been countin' cards or something?"

rick laughed, chocolate curls bouncing as he shook his head, "this ain’t blackjack."

"or poker," carol added, sharp eyes shining with mirth as she looked over her hand, "don't pout."

before you could snark back at the older woman, rosita was strolling over to the table to lean down beside you, her cup making a dull thunk as she placed it on the wooden table.

you looked at her curiously, a fond smile curling your lips, "yeah? what's up, rose?"

"welllll..." she began, dragging out the word for dramatics, "i wanted to ask you something, and you have to be honest!"

tara was making her way over to the table behind her, a blush apparent on her cheeks as she hissed, "i didn't actually mean-"

rosita barreled on, ignoring her, "tara and i have been wondering... you and daryl have been together for a while right?"

the mention of his name caught daryl's attention from where he'd been leaning against the kitchen island, talking to morgan. he looked over at you and rosita with an eyebrow raised.

you mirrored his look of confusion, raising your glass to take a sip of wine as you nodded slowly.

rick, michonne, and carol were also tuned into the conversation at this point, their cards discarded face down onto the table in front of them.

rosita smiled at you wickedly, lowering her voice in a fake attempt at whispering, "we were wondering if the sex was good."

everyone started talking at once, tara being the loudest, nearly shouting, "she! she was wondering, not we!"

your head fell forward into your hands, groaning. you could hear maggie and glenn laughing from the other side of the room while rick chuckled into his glass.

a blush heated your skin as the teasing started. michonne was goading you for an answer, leaning into the antics along with carol, who had put on a fake disgusted look despite the barely restrained laughter making her lips twitch.

“go on,” rosita urged, giggling right next to you, “we wanna know!”

you looked over at daryl, shocked to find him not only looking back at you, but also fighting a smile of his own. his hand rubbed over his goatee to hide it, but you saw right through him.

he was enjoying this. what a bastard.

you were sure you couldn’t get any warmer in the cheeks, and you shook your head in disbelief.

“this is so ridiculous,” you muttered, reaching for the cards you had set down earlier, but rick’s hand came down before you could grab them.

“rick, seriously?” you questioned, shooting him a dirty look.

all he did was smile indulgently, hand still pressing your cards firmly to the table. it was a testament to the good mood of the evening that rick was also willing to participate in this madness.

“out with it!” maggie crowed, “she isn’t the only one wondering!”

at that, carol finally lost her cool, trying and failing to muffle her chuckles with her palm.

michonne shot you a wink across the table, “don’t be embarrassed, we’re all adults here.”

“oh my god,” you muttered, raising your hands to cover your eyes and cheeks in exasperation, “it’s fine! the sex is just fine.”

rosita nodded with a strangely serious expression, “thank you for that information.”

you swatted at her with a groan as she headed away, back to the living room with tara.

rick finally released your cards and you gathered them back up swiftly, eyes trained on them as you tried to get back into the game, “you’re all the worst.”

a few more laughs floated across the table as you all settled back into the game.

glancing over at daryl, you felt your face grow warm all over again. you had expected to see neutrality, or maybe even a little discomfort. it’s not like you and daryl having sex was a secret, you just didn’t know how he felt about it being broadcasted.

but instead, all you could see was humor. whether at the situation or you, you couldn’t tell, but you were sure you’d find out soon enough.

—

“jus’ fine, huh?” daryl voice was sex rough in your ear, and so close that you could feel the puffs of his breath, “the sex is jus’ fine?”

he thrusted into you lazily, your hips slotting against each others over and over. you hands slid over his clothed chest, trying to urge him to move faster. the pace was maddening, you needed more.

once the card games had wrapped up and everyone turned in, daryl had led you right down to his room and stripped our clothes off at the threshold. you knew it was about your earlier comments, but you also knew he wasn't upset, not really. he was just poking fun in his own way.

now though, you were convinced he was punishing you.

daryl wasn’t even naked like you were, having only unzipped his jeans and slid them down an inch or two to free himself.

you were tucked underneath his larger form, arms and legs both coming up to wrap around him. you didn't have an answer for him, you didn't know what to say.

his lips dragged over your jaw, and you could feel the curve of his smile, "didn't think you was a liar. why you ain't tell 'em the truth?"

his next thrust was rougher, nailing against your g-spot perfectly, sending your head back as you moaned.

your brain was fuzzy, only thinking about how good you felt, and how you needed more.

"answer me, girl," daryl grunted teasingly, "you ain't wanna tell 'em how good i fuck you?"

you shook your head, words coming out breathy as you spoke, "no, i just didn't know what to say, daryl, please!"

he hummed appreciatively, "you ain't wanna tell 'em how you beg for my cock?"

you whimpered helplessly, eyes closing.

daryl chuckled quietly, "that's alright. next time you will, won't ya?"

before you could answer, he was speeding up again, his thrusts knocking the breath out of your lungs. your hands came up to his hair, tugging on it in your delirium. you could feel your orgasm building in your gut already, but you weren't surprised given the edging you'd already endured.

daryl could feel your walls clenching around his cock like a vice, a ragged moan falling from his throat.

he leaned down closer to you, mouth beside your ear again as he whispered, "yeah, you will."

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Kinktober (3)- Age Difference

Wanda X Reader 18+

Summary: Separated from the rest of the group, you and Wanda find the perfect opportunity in the kitchen to have some alone time.

Warnings/Tags: SMUT MDNI, Mommy Kink, Oral and fingering (W receiving), Power Bottom Wanda, Implied cheating

Kinktober Masterlist

"Uh I don't think so young lady," your aunt, Natasha, says teasingly, taking the glass of wine you just picked up out of your hand. She simply raised her eyebrow at you, taking a sip herself of the drink as she watched with fake glare.

"Oh come on Nat," you grumbled, leaning back into your seat as your aunt chuckled at you, Wanda also laughing at the display. "Surely I can have one drink ," you stare at her with your best puppy eyes, hoping that even though you're an adult she'll give into the oldest trick in the book.

"You can have a drink when you're twenty one," she says with no room for challenge in her tone, yet you decide to try anyway, what's the worst she can do? Pour it on you?

"Please, everyone else is drinking," you motion to Wanda and Vision who sit together on the couch, Maria who sits in an arm chair and to Yelena who is casually sipping her beer while on her phone, most likely texting her girlfriend Kate. "And I'm basically twenty one, It's only two months."

"Well if it's only two months, I'm sure you can wait," she takes another large sip to taunt you, smirking over the rim of the glass as you groan in annoyance at her. "Also everyone else here is at least over twenty one."

"More like over thirty," you grumble, earning a real glare this time. "Fine," pushing yourself to your feet, you start heading towards the kitchen, "I'll go get myself a drink suitable for a twenty year old." You hear a chorus of laughter and shake your head while making your way through the house.

When you arrive at the kitchen you head straight to the fridge hoping to find something to drink and take back to the group. You frown when all you can see are juice boxes and groan when you remember this is Wanda and Visions house so everything is catered for children. Mumbling a small, "Fuck it," you grab two blackcurrant juice boxes and place one on the counter top while stabbing the straw through the other. You got lost in your thoughts as you moodily drank one of the twins drinks, jumping when a pair of arms wrapped around your middle.

"Hey Detka," she whispers into your ear, body flush against your back. "Enjoying the drink?" she teases making you groan once again, turning in her hold to face her. You stare up at the older woman, admiring her features as she smiles softly at you. Your mouth opens to make a snarky remark but your voice dies down when you feel her hands drift towards your ass and face lower, her lips now ghosting yours. "How about I give you something that tastes a lot better than any drink you can have?" she rasps out, accent delicately wrapping around her words.

"What about Vision?" you murmur, losing yourself in her darkening green eyes.

"He's too busy telling the others a work story," she slowly turns the two of you around, her now leaning against the marble countertop of her kitchen. "So?" one hand cups your jaw, tilting your face upwards to look at her better, "Do you want to make Mommy feel good?"

You lean forward to capture her lips, groaning at the lingering taste of alcohol on her lips and move your hands to hold her waist. You feel her tongue slide over your bottom lip, not hesitating to part your lips to allow her tongue to slide in and dominate your mouth. You groan into the kiss when her hands move up your body, one resting casually on your neck.

"We don't have time to play Detka," she murmurs between kisses before pulling back, "Be a good girl for Mommy and kneel." You practically drop to your knees at her sultry voice, staring up at her with lust-filled eyes as your hands slowly creep up her legs. When you reach the hem of her skirt you stop, the silent question in your eyes answered when she nods and threads a hand through your hair. Swiftly, you lift the skirt so your head can meet her core and groan quietly to yourself when you see she's not wearing any panties, her arousal dripping from her.

"Fuck Mommy, you're so beautiful," you mutter while place a few kisses on her thighs before leaning forwards to lick a stripe up her core.

"Shit Detka," she moans quietly, hands gripping the countertop till her knuckles start to bleed white. "Do you know how turned on Mommy was when she saw you earlier?" her voice breathy as she tries to control her volume, your tongue swirling over her clit not helping her stay quiet. "I was so tempted to drag you into the bathroom and have you on your knees like now, fucking me with that perfect little mouth of yours." You groan into her pussy at her words, one of your hands raising to her core so you could tease her entrance with your fingers. At the same time, you suck hard on her clit and thrust a finger into her, one of her hands clamping over her mouth to muffle the moan that erupted from the back of her throat. "That's it Detka, you're making Mommy feel so good," she praises quickly before placing her hand back over her mouth as you curl your finger inside her.

Your tongue continues to swirl around her clit as you add another finger into her, thrusting both digits into her mercilessly as you're addicted to the sound of the muffled moans echoing around the room.

"You taste so good Mommy," you murmur before pulling your fingers out, earning a low groan in response before a choked moan when you thrust your tongue into her. You relentlessly thrust it into her while your fingers go to her clit, circling it in time with the way you curl your tongue inside her to have her legs shake slightly as she supports herself with the countertop.

" God Detka, " she groans out, "Right there, fuck I'm gonna come." You feel her clench around your tongue, legs trembling by your head as her orgasm washes over her. You moan into her when you feel her cum coat your tongue and help her ride out her aftershocks by slowly circling her clit. Her hands gently push you away when she gets too sensitive, you sitting back on your feet as you look up at her with a dazed smile, her arousal all over your mouth. She pulls you up by the collar of your shirt and crashes her lips to yours, moaning into your mouth at the taste of herself. "Good girl," she praises one last time before she lets you clean your face off with a washcloth and tidies her appearance up.

"How's the drink coming along?" Natasha says while Maria wraps her arm around her middle, both of them holding empty wine glasses as they stroll into the kitchen. They pause in their tracks when they see you with a straw in your mouth, your hand holding the other juice box as you finished the first, while your cheeks seemingly flushed with embarrassment.

"Oh my god!" Maria exclaimed while Natasha burst out into laughter, placing down her glass so she wouldn't drop it. You scowled as they started to tease you for drinking a child's drink, defending yourself as best you could but to no avail. You grumbled under your breath before turning your gaze to Wanda who had a soft smile that lessened your bad mood.

You made your way out of the kitchen to avoid any more teasing but stopped at the door of the living room when Wanda grabbed your hand.

"Meet me later for your reward, you were such a good girl for Mommy."

[drgnflyteabox]

Malewife Gaz comes back from deployment desperate for his mean, office siren gf <3

MDNI / dub con-ish / public sex / overstim / anal play / grinding / Kyle is kinda gross lol I luv him / he eats it from the back :D / they're both switches / squirting

Reader works in an office, but it's not clear what she does. She does have her own private office though ;) you go girl!

You're ignoring him.

Your phone isn't turned off, it's not even on silent, but you haven't flipped it right side up despite the near constant buzzing. Kyle has been texting, calling, but you're cross at the moment and don't feel like having it out with him on a work day.

You should turn your phone off. It's distracting, and a little inappropriate to have it making so much noise even through the walls cushioning your personal office.

The thing is, it's a little gratifying that he's desperately trying to reach you. Part of it is the satisfaction that he's a little anxious and wants to make it up, and part of it is wanting him to be extra sorry when you gets home.

Kyle had been able to call you all through the past month despite being on deployment. At least twice a week, you'd be laid up in bed or tucked away on lunch in your office telling him about your day. A rare treat for someone of his vocation, and something you appreciated greatly. The expectation you always set for yourself was zero contact - something to keep you from being hurt or placing more stress on him. Truly, your workaholic tendencies made you perfect for somebody that spent so much time deployed. When he came back, he made you take a break. There was a balance.

Typically you'd get a window of time for when he'd be back home. Your favourite thing to do was to cook a British classic for the occasion, usually bangers and mash - his favourite. You always had his preferred beer too, a brand you noticed he copied from Price. So cute. Yesterday morning he'd sent you a message that he'd be home for 9pm, a little late for dinner but the boys wanted to catch up at their favourite pub before they separated.

Only last night you'd sat at the table waiting for two full hours by yourself before giving up. His meal was packed in the fridge while you'd eaten yours by yourself on the couch with a glass of wine, texts going unanswered.

The worst part wasn't that he hadn't shown up. Sometimes that happened, when missions ran long or he'd gotten too into his cups with his team. It was annoying, but your tradition was to spend the day together when he got back, and you didn't mind having breakfast with him instead. You just didn't appreciate that he didn't even call or text about it, and that in the morning you found him sprawled on the couch with just his boxers and a mess of clothing tossed on the ground from the door to the living room couch. Socks, pants, his tank top.

So, petty as you are, you go to work and forego the tradition. Ignoring him. You dressed nice, too, black stockings and as tarty as you could without getting a call from HR. He hadn't seen you leave, but you wanted to get home and remind him what he was missing.

Your office phone rang once, twice, "hello?" The secretary at the front of the building was a nice enough lady, but she rarely called you directly. "Your lunch is here - the deliveryman is just waiting."

"Deliveryman?" You say skeptically. You hadn't ordered lunch. You'd brought Kyle's leftovers.

"Yep. Should I send him up?" Though you probably know who it is, you tell her you'll be down in the lobby instead. You'd prefer to be safe than sorry, in case it isn't Kyle.

It is.

He looks like a kicked puppy, holding some kind of takeout bag in one hand and a coffee in the other. He knows you love Los Vaqueros, the little coffeeshop next door. It's probably a macadamia nut latte, your favourite.

"Babe," he starts, sounding a little rough. Probably battling a hangover. He's wearing your favourite shirt, a tight black compression shirt that shows off his tits. Grey running sweats. Oh, he's good. "Is your phone dead?"

"I've got a pretty busy day today, Kyle," you're a little snotty about it. Your hip is cocked to the side. You want him to work a little. "I was in the middle of a meeting."

"You can't be that mad at me. I brought you macadamia and a caesar wrap. Come on, baby." He shifts the bag into the same hand as the coffee, using the other to show you his palm in apology.

You peer at him a little warily. It's times like this you wish he wasn't so tall, so that you could look at him all judgemental secretary like. You settle for arching a brow and squinting. "Go away now, I'll see you at home. I better not see any dirty socks on my floor, either."

"I cleaned them this morning, I swear."

"Good. Now scram, and give me that coffee." You reach for the coffee, but he intercept and grabs your elbow. Pulling you closer. "What- kyle--" his hands slides up to your upper back, making you shiver. When you don't pull away, he grins like a schoolboy and starts steering you down the hall. "I have work -!"

"I know, baby, but I really wanna make it up to you. Let me make it up to you." He's speaking quietly as to not alert the secretary a few feet away. He's leading you to the bathroom.

"No! Kyle, I'm at work. Goddammit, I have things to do-"

"No you don't." When you've turned the corner and are out of sight, he slides his hand from your back to your ass, squeezing hard, making you squeak. "And I need you. I woke up so hard. I need your pussy." He's close to whining, tucking his face close to your ear, smelling your hair.

Your voice goes high pitched, flustered, not expecting him to try and cajole you into fucking in a public bathroom. At your workplace no less. "We can't!"

He used to do this when you first started dating; get needy, corner you in some barely secluded place and get you both off one way or another. Quick and dirty. He swore he never fucked anyone else while deployed, and if it wasn't the trust you had in him it was how desperate he seemed to get when he got back that assured you of his faithfulness. Sometimes it was your favourite, just how whiney and flustered he would get. As a treat, if he'd been very good during dinner, you'd wake him up by sucking him off the morning he got back. Surely he had missed that this morning, what with how fast he'd led you to the employee bathroom. Good.

He locks the door behind you, and you let him kiss you a little. You don't see him put your food down, but he must because both his hands squeeze your waist. You rub your thighs together to soothe the pulsing arousal building in your belly.

You hand goes to his chest, pushing him. He's so strong, it takes you slapping his chest and shoulders to move back, panting. "We can't, I'm serious. Do you want me to get fired?"

He licks his lips, not even looking you in the eye. "You won't get fired, baby. Just be quiet. Let me take care of you-" you interrupt him by grabbing his face and squeezing his cheeks hard, making his lips pucker up.

"Can you not think with your cock? Couldn't you have dropped lunch off and waited for me back home like a good boy?"

He slides his big hands down your waist to your hips, tilting his hard cock so its pressed against you. Despite you holding him, he walks you both forward until your back hits the wall and he can grind against you hard. "Kyle- I'm not kidding," you say sternly, but don't move away. His cock rubs deliciously against your mons, not quite where you want it, but a good enough tease that your breath shudders out in a moan.

"Please, please, let me," he begs, grinding. Pressing his body right up to yours. You acquiesce a little, moving your hand from his face to down his pants and into his boxers. "Hrmmn-nn fuck, fuck," he whines. Bypassing his dick, you feel him start to hump desperately, like a dog. He shudders hard and you're squashed against the wall as you palm his balls, playing with them a little. You feel wetness drip down your wrist.

"Did you just come?" Honestly, you're delighted, but you make sure your tone is disappointed. Mean. Your pussy squeezes, wets your panties a little more. "Bad boy. I thought you were going to make it up to me?"

"Oh fuck, thank you baby. I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you still. Just give me a second."

"No way. Get to work." It's easy to bully him a little when he's so fresh from his orgasm. You push him onto his knees and lift a heel to rest it on that big, muscular thigh.

Your tits feel squashed in your bra as you breathe hard, looking down at him. He pushes his forehead against your stomach, pushing your skirt up while murmuring something into the fabric. You palm yourself, pinch your own nipples through the fabric. Feeling empowered, your hand goes to his hair and you grind your panty covered pussy right on his nose.

"Go on."

He licks you through the fabric, long laps of his tongue. Sucks on where your clit is, wetting the fabric. Kyle grips your thighs and pulls them wider apart, making you teeter dangerously on one heel, the other digging into his leg. He mouths at your panties and bites gently at you while your scratch his scalp and neck.

He moans, and finally pushes your underwear down. You clench as your wetness is exposed to the air, cooling you. Your clit stands up, peeking out of your hood. He gives it a little lick, directly on the underside where you're most sensitive. It makes you jump, not expecting it. He doesn't let you move away, instead wrapping his lips around you and sucking, hard.

"Oh Jesus--" your knees buckle a little, "Kyle, fuck," he pulls back and turns you around forcefully, making you arch. His hand finds your ankle and lifts your leg up and out, tongue finding your cunt once again. He eats you out like he's making out with you, like a sloppy kiss. His other hand squeezes where your ass and thigh meet, spreading you open.

"I missed you so much," he says. "I missed this pretty little cunt. Oh, jesus, I'm hard again." Of course he is - his refractory period has always been quick. This is a new record, though. "Can I fuck you, baby?"

You have to really force your words out, with how he spreads your asscheeks and licks your other hole. "Nn- no. You haven't - haven't earned it yet."

Kyle doesn't say anything to that, just curls his tongue in your ass and let's your ankle go to pinch your clit between two fingers, twisting it. You shout, then go still, remembering where you are. "Kyle --!" It sneaks up on you, how fast your orgasm comes. From your toes to your nipples, electricity shoots through you and tightens your skin. You tremble violently, soaking his fingers and his face. He stands up while you go through the aftershocks, hands stroking your belly and holding you from behind, crowding you and making you feel safe.

Kyle kisses your nape, sucks your earlobe a little. Waits like a gentleman. You lean back against him and squeeze his fingers.

"I'm gonna fuck you now." He's not asking anymore, and you're boneless, so you just spread your legs and let him push his cock into you slowly, enjoying the stretch. It makes you rise onto your tiptoes, letting him take your weight. He rocks into you slowly at first, hands roaming from your stomach to your tits to your throat. Pinching and squeezing, having earned your submission.

"I missed you too," you admit finally, breathily. "I love you, big boy."

Kyle hums, sucking a mark into your neck, picking up his pace. "I love you too." He nibbles on you a little. His thumb finds your asshole again, pushing in, making you whine high and thin. "You gonna be a good girl and come all over my cock? I've been waiting for this, you know. Your pussy feels like home."

Your cunt drips on him, making wet little sounds while he fucks you hard against the wall. You're still sensitive from coming earlier, so you squirm on his cock, squeezing around him. "Come inside me, please," you beg. You need to feel it. He uses his free hand to push your face into the wall, bucking into you once, twice, then holding himself taut as a bowstring. His hips grind minutely against your ass while he comes, flooding your pussy.

Kyle doesn't let you go, just pulls his cock and thumb out quickly, taking advantage of your stupor to cup your pussy and roughly squeeze your clit. You yelp, jumping, but keep your legs spread. Your peak is building again, and he knows it. Two of his big fingers find your stretched hole and push in, curling and rubbing viciously until the pressure builds and builds and your pussy contracts, pleasure slicing through your abdomen painfully. You cover your mouth with your hands just barely in time to shout, knees buckling with your orgasm.

If not for Kyle holding you up, you'd have fallen down to the floor. You shake, feeling cored. He nuzzles you sweetly, licking your ear. His hand pets your pussy gently until you push him away, way too sensitive.

"Can I take you home, babygirl?"

"Yes please," your voice is a croak.

Kyle is a little inconsiderate in this but I hope it didn't read as angst and more playfulness between established partners <3<3 I feel like Kyle is a very noble character and he puts a lot of pressure on himself. Always worrying about what the right thing is. I figure with reader he can let go a little :') reader is a little miffed but she's soft for her man <3

Also I wrote this on my phone between shifts during a 13 hour day so please forgive any typos or grammar mistakes

[scar-lie]

My Wife [Natasha]

I DO COMMISSION JUST DM ME FOR THE INFO

Summary : Y/N the adoptive daughter of Clint Barton got rejected multiple time by the Black Widow, the best friend of his dad

 Pairing :  Natasha Romanoff x Fem ! Reader

Warning : Cursing, depression

Word count : 5059

No one has permission to repost my work anywhere, if you see it please let me know.

"Here she is....AAAAHHHHH HERE'S MY WIFE." You beam while jumping up and down a little bit once you get up from the couch, pointing to Natasha, who just entered the living room from her room.

A series of laughs, especially from your father, Clint, who is happy to see you with this enthusiasm just by Natasha walking into the same room as you are, already gives you so much joy that it hurts to think to himself

"Arghh........please Y/N, I'm not your wife," Natasha groaned, going to the kitchen that's attached to the living room and getting a glass of white wine.

Pfff, yes, you are, even though I haven't put the ring on those beautiful, slender fingers of yours. You're my wife already........I know it," you said with a giggle, then ran to her.

"Stop, please, Y/N, I'm not your wife nor your girlfriend; for god's sake, I'm way older than you." You just ignored her sentence and hugged her from behind. Since she's taller than you, you cuddled your face on her back.

"Y/N," she sighs, taking your arms around her and pushing you gently.

"Come on, don't make your wife sad and pouty." You pout and give her puppy eyes, but she just rolls her eyes. She's already annoyed and already at her limit, but she just controls herself so she doesn't snap at you.

Natasha is already pissed and stressed by the paperwork. Fury gave it to her yesterday, and she still has one pile of it that needs to be done by tomorrow. This makes her beyond pissed, so your teasing and calling her wife makes her irritated, and the teasing by the team didn't help.

"Come on, Nat, don't make your little missy sad and pouty. Tony teases with a smirk and wiggles his eyebrows when Natasha's eyes and Tony's meet while you look over your shoulder and wink at them. That makes me giggle more.

"Nat, don't make my daughter, or should I say your wife, sad and pouty; you're going to regret it," Clint, your father, teases while drinking beer, and Natasha looks at him in disbelief.

'Seriously, you're pairing your daughter with me, your best friend, who's 15 years older than her?! ' Natasha asked herself and huffed.

Seriously, Clint, that's your daughter for god's sake," Natasha said in disbelief, and the team laughed while you just smiled at her innocently, hands held together in front of you, swayed your top body from right to left, and looked up at her eyes, and she scoffed.

"Argh....I don't have time for your bullshit," she spat, and she just left with her PB&J and her white wine, going back to her room.

"Another time," you whisper to yourself, a little hurt, then go back to joking with the team.

—

You're brushing your hair in front of your mirror on the vanity table while drying it. The only thing that's covering your naked body is your undergarment underneat the towel wrapped around your chest down to your mid-thighs when there's a knock on your door.

"Come in!" You shout with one closed eye, drying your front upper hair. That's when you saw Natasha enter your room in her black sexy dress, revealing her upper boobs and hugging her figures.

This makes you smile widely. Seeing your wife—well, not technically, but for you, she's your wife—wearing this beautiful dress and coming to your room here in the compound makes you flutter, so I put down the hair dryer, then turn around my chair, flashing her my wide smile.

"Arghh......will you cut that fucking grin of yours? You look creepy," she spat, but you ignored it and stood up, still smiling.

"Did you dress for me? Awww, you should inform me that we're going on a date." You fake pout, then run to her and hug her.

"Argh, get off of me, and no, I'm not going out with you; I'm here because I have something to tell you." Then she pushes you away, then crosses her arms across her chest, which makes her boobs get bigger, so I smirk and wiggle my eyebrows.

"Aww are you going to confess to me? That's sweet, but no need; I told you you were my wife, so it's—" she quickly cut me off with a harsh tone.

"No, and I'm here to tell you to stop calling me your wife; I am not, and stop going around and telling people that you're my wife because that's a lie," she said with gritted teeth and piercing angry eyes, looking at your soul.`

"I'm. Not. Your. Wife...............I don't fucking like you, your just a young woman who seeks attention to everybody, you're ruining everything, even my date, you little shit, just accept the fact that I'm not into you, you little attention seeker, she spat, the anger of her now spilling out, and this makes you shrink.

"You're out of my league; for God's sake, I don't need nor want a burden like you in my life, so fucking stop, you people's pleaser, bullshit!" she screams and gets out of your room, slamming the door shut on the way.

You just stand there, looking at the wall in front of you where she was previously standing, and a single tear falls down, followed by another tear. You're breathing heavily, and the towel around you makes you feel like it's trapping you tightly.

So you take it off, throw it away somewhere in your room, and start to claw your throat down your chest, crumble down on the floor, and crawl backwards until your bare back gets contact with your bed.

"Air... air...I-I....ne-need air," you rasp out, breathing heavily. Your neck and chest already have an angry red line, and you keep kicking the floor and squirming in your seat.

"Air......" Tears stream down your face as you try to get as much air as you can, but then there's another knock on your door.

"Y/N/N? Honey, are you alright? I heard some noises." Your Dad knocks, waiting for your response, but that didn't come; instead, a series of noises like someone keeping banging the wall or floor

"Honey?" Clint grows worried, so he quickly opens the door and finds you on the floor, gasping for air.

"Honey, oh god, breathe, baby, breathe," he said, taking you in his arms, holding you tightly, and putting your head on his chest.

"Listen to my heart and follow my breathing, baby," and Clint takes deep breaths while rubbing your back until your breathing is back to normal. Because of what happened, your body gives up, and you fall asleep in your father's embrace.

—

After what happened, you still call Natasha your wife, and this makes Natasha pissed off every time; even seeing your face already pissed her off. Of course, your father, Clint, didn't know what happened that night; all he knew was that you had a panic attack.

You don't want to cause any trouble between your Dad and his best friend, slash your ultimate crush—no, you've fallen for them—so you just make excuses and lie about the panic attack almost every night so you wouldn't cause any chaos on the team.

"Are you ready?" your father asked you when you came into the living room, bags in your hands.

"Yeah, I think all of my things are packed." You give him a sweet smile, so he nods.

"Ok, let's go; we're heading out now, guys. Bye." You two said your goodbyes to the team and waved at them. You turned around to go to the Quinjet but stopped when one voice bid them farewell.

"See you next week." You both looked back and saw Natasha just entering the living room.

"Yeah, see you next week, my wife." You wiggle your eyebrows again, and she instantly rolls her eyes, already pissed.

"Just get out of my hair for god's sake," she mumbled to herself, which no one heard, but you read her lips, so you just smiled at her.

"Don't miss me too much, ok? I'll just be gone for a week. Now be careful, my wife." You bid your good-bye with your father to Natasha and go to the quinjet, going home to your family that you missed.

—

A week and days go by, but Clint still hasn't come back to the compound with you, but the team understands when Clint informs them that he or you two can't come back just yet.

Well, you're not really a part of the Avengers (Your father didn’t let you just yet), but you grew up with them since Clint adopted you when they saw you—a 14-year-old girl trapped in a cell of a Hydra facility—so they took care of you, and Clint and Laura adopted you.

"Clint?" The two married couples look at the doorway when they hear a knock on the door followed by Natasha's voice.

"Nat? What are you doing here?" Clint asked once he opened the door, stepping aside to let Natasha get inside his house.

But Natasha quickly frowned, and then she got greeted with pure silence; not even Lila, Cooper, and Nathaniel greeted her, especially you, who show enthusiasm when you see her, but no, it's a complete silence, like only Clint or Laura are the only people in the house.

"Nat," Laura greeted her with a hug, and she returned it.

"What are you doing here? Not that I don't want you here," Clint said, and they sat on the couch while Laura made coffee.

"I'm worried; it's nearly two weeks and you and Y/N still haven't stepped foot in the compound." Clint looked back over his shoulder at his wife, and they exchanged looks.

"What? What is it?" Natasha quickly asked, knowing that something was definitely wrong.

"Clint." Laura nods at Clint as her husband sighs.

"It's Y/N." Then he stands up.

"Follow me." Natwsha quickly stood up, and she followed her best friend with her heart pumping.

"I don't know how you will react, but hold yourself together," Clint said, and with that, they opened your bedroom door, and there you are, laying in your bed, back facing them.

"What about her?" Natasha asked, seeing that there's nothing wrong but you're just lying down in your bed.

Clint nods at Nat towards you, so she walks around your bed just to find you, looking at the wall blankly, eye bags under your eyes; you're smaller, and now you're skinny as she last saw you, and you didn't hold a single emotion; it's all blank.

She gasps at it and steps her foot back, shocked at what she saw—the once-held beauty of a beautiful smile and the spark in your eyes every time she sees you are long gone.

This isn't what she expects when she steps foot on the farm. The first time she steps foot on the Barton's resident, she feels something isn't right.

Because every time she would pay a visit, even if she was far away, you could sense it and quickly run to her and greet her with a warm hug.

She should know better to know something is definitely wrong from the first time she feels something's not right, which was a week ago, two days after that night.

"Hey...Y/N?" Natasha whispers, slowly walking towards you and crouching down to your level.

Natasha bites her lower lips when she doesn't get any reaction or a single move out of you; you're just there, laying down, looking into nothing.

"Y/N/N... he-hey...please look at me," Natasha whispered, softly touching your arm, but still nothing. She bit her lips harder and looked at Clint, and the couple just shook their heads.

"Clint, tell me, Natasha begged, walking towards them, so Clint pulled her out of the room and closed the door.

"I don't know Nat, I-" Clint sighs, closing his eyes. It breaks him to see his daughter like this.

"It's just one day she's like that," Laura continued, eyes full of worry and sadness.

"When we got home, she was so jolly, and then after two days, she's just like that. I should have known that something was wrong the first time I noticed she was so jolly." Clint holds his wife's hand tightly, and Laura squeezes it back.

"What? What do you mean, Clint?" Natasha grows so anxious that she starts to rub her hand on her jeans.

"She has depression, Nat; she always has." Natasha gasps at hearing the new information and looks back at your closed door.

"It's my fault," she whispered to herself, tears running down her cheeks.

"I want to stay.......here?" She looked at the couple and wiped her tears.

"Until Y/N is better.....please" She clenches her hand with her nail digging into her palm, and the couple sigh, nodding.

—

Since the day Natasha knew about you, she has stayed by your side and refused to leave you. She will tell you how beautiful the weather is or how beautiful the night sky is. She will also tell you stories and read books while she lies beside you, but mostly she's hugging you tightly. When the night comes, once your eyes are closed, her tears run down, wetting your pillow, and she quietly sobs while hugging you tightly, telling you how sorry she was.

"Y/N/N, I have some of your favorite Y/F/S," Natasha beams, entering your room, and she sees you there, sitting up on your bed, which makes her stop.

Y/N-," she quickly runs to you, puts the snacks on your bedside table, and helps you up because she knows you always lose balance.

"Going to the bathroom?" You just shook your head and pointed to the window.

Out," you whisper in horse, and this surprises Natasha, because after weeks of trying to make you say a single word or a letter, you finally spoke, but she quickly gets out of her trace and nods happily.

Ok." With that, she helped you go out and sit in the rocking chair.

"Wh-what do you want to do?" Natasha asked carefully, looking at your side profile.

You didn't answer back; instead, you just looked at the dogs playing in the field—the three dogs you love, and one of them is the one you saved from the explosion.

"Ok, I'll just get us snacks and drinks." With that, Natasha left with a little smile on her face.

You've been improving for over 3 weeks; you've improved a lot more than the first time she saw you; you've been eating at least 2 times a day, even if it's just a few spoonfuls of food; you've been starting to acknowledge your surroundings, answering them with a nod or shook of your head; your pale skin is now gaining color; and now, you want to get up and go out to look outside, which is a kind of big step in your stage.

"Ok, here are the snacks," Natasha said, resting the snacks and drinks on the table. You look at her and nod.

Thanks," she smiled, nodding at you.

"You're welcome" and means that you start to eat the snacks little by little.

"Ca-can..." you whisper and grab a drink. Natasha waits until you take a sip of water.

"Can...you tell me a story?" She smiles and nods, happy that you're finding some comfort in her stories.

"Of course." With that, she starts another story of her life before they meet you and rescue you.

In some point you're loving the stories she's telling you, specially when she tell you the stories of her sister Yelena in the Red Room, you even request it to her to tell you stories with Yelena in Red Room, you don't know but knowing someone suffer the same pain and having a similar backstories/past is bringing you comfort, that your not the only one who go through it all

But for Natasha, she doesn't want to share it; she still struggles to open up about her past. It's hard for her, but seeing you wanting to know it and the feeling of getting it out without judgment feels too good, so she learns to open up to you and let herself be vulnerable.

Slowly, you're getting better, and sometimes you're smiling too. You're joining them at the dining table and listening to their jokes. You even join them on movie nights. Either your siblings will cuddle you or Natasha.

"Dinner's ready!" Laura shouts, smiling that her eldest daughter is starting to go back to them again.

Hey, dinner's ready; do you want to eat now or later?"Natasha asked, looking at your side profile while you looked up at the calm night sky with various stars and your eyes sparkling while watching.

"Let's go." You look at her and nod, so you two go to the dining table and see everybody already sitting there, waiting for you two.

"Sissy, look, it’s your favorite," Lila said with a smile and pointed to the dish, so you smiled at her.

"Yeah, it is, thanks mom," you smile at Laura, and she stops herself to shed a tear and nod at you.

"You're welcome, my sweetheart." With that, you all pray and start eating while joking around.

D-dad," you giggle for the first time, and all of them look at you with shock and a smile on their faces.

"Yo-you..." you smile and point to his chest.

"You have crust on your chest," you say, and he looks down and gasps dramatically.

"Oh, silly me, hahaha.......I'm such a clumsy person," he mocks one of those girls in the movie who acted in such a precious move, and this makes you giggle more.

"My wife's giggling." Natasha can't help but miss how enthusiastic you are around her, especially when you call her your wife. She misses it, and deep down in her, she likes it—no, she loves it; she just doesn't want to admit it.

But this causes your smile to drop, and you look down on your food and take a small bite. With this, they all look at you, and Natasha grows worried, already regretting what she said.

"I'm not your wife," you coldly reply, and Natasha's heart clenches, so she just nods and tries not to show how hurt she is.

Now she knows how it feels to be rejected, and now she knows that this feeling is always lingering on her every day, hour, or minute, and it hurts her like hell.

"Oh...so-sorry-" she said, getting cut off when you stood up to leave.

"Wait, where are you going, honey?" Clint asked, standing up and going around the table.

"Up to my room." You refuse the help of your father and go up to your room by yourself.

This makes Natasha shrink in her seat, look down on her food, and clench her hand that's holding the utensil.

I-I. I'm sorry, Clint.....I-I fucked up again," Natasha whispered, and she quickly stood up to leave before anyone in the family could say a word.

"Nat wait—" Clint got stopped by his wife.

"Let her be for now, Clint; she needs space." Clint looks at his wife, worried. They both know how guilty Natasha is of what she had done before, and Natasha thinks she deserves to be blamed even though the couple didn't blame her.

She just needs something to hold on to to blame, and that's what she chooses; that's her way to cope up and fight for you, and the thought that she fucked up again didn't sit well on her mind; it keeps messing with her head.

Now, you're sitting in your chair, looking out the window, while Natasha takes a ride on her big bike, going as far away from you as she can. She just can't stand to be near you right now, so while she's driving, she keeps wiping her tears until she's out of town and parks at the nearby gas station.

She looks at the empty street and the night sky. She sighs before going inside the store and buying a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and gum.

"Why do you have to be stupid and ruin the best things in your life, Natalia? she hissed to herself once she got out of the store.

going far enough in the gas station with her bike and lighting her cigarette, looking up at the night sky, who shine with the stars

"It is really beautiful," she whispers to herself, only appreciating the night sky now. At first, she doesn't get why people, or specifically you, love looking up at the night sky. Even in the compound, she always finds you at night on the rooftop, laying down with the blanket on the floor and looking up, or at the edge of the building, feet swinging back and forth while looking up.

Now she knows why the silence, the calmness, and the beauty of the night help you and calm you down in times like this and especially make you realize some things you are constantly denying and what you've done and make your mind clear.

After a few sticks of cigarette while looking at the night sky, she starts to feel a raindrop starting to fall down and a thunder sound can be heard in the place, so she quickly steps on the cigarette.

She hops on her bike to go back to Barton's house before the rain gets worse, or at least she wishes, but she's so wrong because she's just driving back for over 5 minutes when the heavy raindrops start to fall down, soaking her wet.

Once she got back, she was drenched from head to toe inside her boots, and it was cold as hell, so she quickly got inside, taking her boots and jacket off.

"Nat?" Natasha stops and looks forward to seeing Clint, Laura, and you sitting on the couch.

"So-sorry about the floor," She whispers, and Laura gives her a towel.

"That's ok, go and dry yourself." She nodded and went upstairs to take a quick warm shower and change into her pajamas. Once she got out of her room, Clint was waiting for her with a crossed arm. At this point, she understands if he wants her to go back to the compound tomorrow morning.

"Clint look," she started, but he cut her off.

"I trust you, Nat; I trust you with Y/N's life; I don't know what I'm going to do; I can't read her; and she refuses every help we offer her; she just wants to be on the couch." Clint looks up at her with pleading eyes.

"Please....try Nat," he said, Nat looking at him hesitantly.

"It's not your fault, Nat; trust me when I say It's not your fault." She shook her head, not believing him.

"You're her light in her dark mind; you're keeping her alive. She saw something in you that saved her. You saved her so many times in any way you could possibly save her." She looked into his eyes with teary eyes.

"I want my Y/N back, the jolly one. But you're the only one who can bring her back. Please, Nat '' Nat plays with her tongue on her right inner cheek while nodding.

"I'll try..." With that, she composes herself and goes down where you are, passing Laura on the way.

"Hey...Y/N/N?" she asked softly, like the first time you look over your shoulder for a second and go back looking at the movie playing in front of you with the lowest volume, so she sat beside you.

"Can you tell me your story again, the one with Yelena?" you asked, still looking at the TV.

"Yeah, ok." Natasha sighs and starts to tell you her story of how the Red Room is programmed and how she needs to fight for her and Yelena.

"What happened to Yelena?" Natasha can't find a word, not a single one; she just shuts her mouth. She doesn't know how to answer your question.

Even though she and her sister are reunited and in a good relationship, she just can't accept the fact that she escaped the Red Room without her, so she just leaves Yelena alone.

"I-she..." she said, looking down on her hand.

"Did you leave with her?" She could feel your gaze on her, so she closed her eyes and shook her head.

"No," Natasha looked up to you, but you shook your head, going back to watch the movie. Natasha thought it was her cue to leave you alone, so she stood up and turned around to leave.

"I am her," you said while still watching, and Natasha looked back at you with a frown.

"What?" She waited for you to talk again, now facing you.

"I am Yelena," you whisper, fidgeting your hand, so Natasha sat beside you again, looking closely at your side profile.

"I was left behind too..............by my older sister," Natasha gasped, biting her lips.

"She left me behind the four walls of the cell in Hydra...............she just used me to get her way out there." You look at Natasha for a second and go back to the movie. Natasha is shocked to learn this story.

No one on the team, even your parents, knows this; all they know is that you're the only one left alive from the Hydra experiments; they didn't know that you have a sister.

"Wh-what happened to her?" Natasha wants to hold you, but she doesn't know if you want that.

"I don't know, but one day when I'm in training, they just throw her dead body in front of me, telling me that I will end up the same as my sister if I try to escape." You stand up and go outside on the porch, so Natasha follows you behind.

"I don't know what I should feel.........I'm-......I'm not allowed to feel anything." You start to go down the stairs of the porch.

"Y/N, wait, no, you're going to get yourself soaked." Natasha tries to get you back to the porch, but you're already down on the grass, where your body is starting to get soaked.

"I didn't know that I was bottling it up..........I don't know what feelings or emotions are." Natasha doesn't have any choice, so she follows you.

"Until I meet you and the team..........you all show me what emotion is." You stop in the middle of the field, 30 feet away from your house, and the fact that you're starting to shiver makes Natasha notice it, so she grows worried.

Y/N, you're going to get sick; please let's get back." She stands beside you. You smile, looking up and letting the raindrop fall on your face.

"And I hate it............" You look at her with teary eyes and a smile.

"At first, because that's where I start to feel the grief, betrayal, guilt, sadness, loneliness, depression, and how much of a monster I am—" your tears start to roll down your eyes, but even if they're running down your checks with the raindrop, Natasha knew you're crying.

"Y/N" Natasha is going to hug you, but she stops when you talk again.

"But I am grateful and happy because... over my entire life, I finally know and feel what happiness is and what love means." That's when Natasha hugs you, rubbing your back.

"But it's too much......I don't want to feel it anymore. It hurts." You sob on her shoulder.

Natasha's own tears roll down her cheeks while she shushing you, holding you, and comforting you while you sob, letting go of every emotion you bottled up.

"Let it all out, baby. Let it all out. I'm here. I'm not going to leave. Just let it all out." Natasha whispers in your ear while you hold on to her shirt tightly like your life depends on it.

"I hate it." Your sob subsides a little, and you tuck your head on her neck, already tired, and keep whispering, 'I hate it.

"I know...shhh, I know. I know, love. I know," she whispers, running her hand over your hair.

"Help me," you whisper, looking up at her eyes, so when she meets your eyes, she smiles and nods, happy that you're opening yourself to her and letting her in.

"I will.....I will be by your side every step of the way. Ok, cause I love you so much. I'm not going to leave you, ok?" your lips starting to quiver while looking up at her eyes.

"You love me?" A spark in your eyes didn't go unnoticed by Natasha, and she smiled, nodding.

"Of course, I'm your wife, and I'm going to put a ring on those gorgeous fingers someday." Natasha kissed your forehead, and she saw Clint running in your direction with two towels and one umbrella.

"Now let's go inside; you're shivering. You're going to get cold." You again buried your face on her chest while shaking your head, making her chuckle.

"But I like the rain," and that's when Clint quickly put the umbrella under your heads.

"Oh my god.......I thought something happened to the both of you!" Clint exclaimed, putting the umbrella he's using between his shoulders and checking while wrapping the towel around the both of you.

Dad," and you hug him, so he hugs you back tightly; it's been a while since he's been able to hug you.

"Let's go home now, sweetheart." With that, Clint wrapped his arm around your shoulder and led you and Natasha back to the house.

—

Since then Natasha always with you, she still read you book, tell you stories and help you every ups and downs on your life, she even take you for a ride every now and then, going into different places where she knows you will love and she even give you flowers even if she just steal some on the garden of your parents or someone else

With the help of your now-lover and your family, the team is constantly visiting you, and you've healed from a big rough patch.

Hey, you leave me for a sec there? "You snapped out of your thoughts, looking at your girlfriend for over 6 months now, who's been lying beside you in your sahred bed, in your shared bedroom; it's actually Natasha's bedroom, but she insists that you should move in, so every time you're in the compound, your room is Natasha's.

"Sorry" you whisper with a shy smile.

"That's ok, my love." She smiled, then started to tickle you.

"It's a tickle monster," she said, and she started to tickle your stomach, which made you squeal and try to get out of her grip.

"St-stop Natty... please," you laugh out loud, pushing her hand away.

"What? I can't hear you!"You scream when her fingers start to tickle your most ticklish spot, which is your armpit.

"NAAATTYYYY!" You scream, and she suddenly stops looking down at you, and you pant heavily.

"You ok?" she asked, taking a deep breath to get some needed air.

"Yeah," you look up and giggle, then her dementor changes; she looks like she is thinking deeply while examining your face structure.

"Nat?" you whisper, putting your hand on her right check. She sighs and leans on your hand.

"You look like an angel, my darling, and I really love you so much," she whispered, kissing your palm and laying down beside you, pulling you in so now your back is facing her, cuddling, her being the big spoon and you're the small spoon.

"And I really love you too, my big bear," You whisper, hugging her arm that's wrapped around your waist.

[redrose10]

Yoongi and the prompt id no 45 "how much of that did you hear". Thank you so much and i really like the way you write

Here you go, I hope you like it!

Warnings: A few swear words, alcohol consumption

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Your apartment smelled like a brewery and looked like a frat house. Broken glass bottles and plastic cups littered everywhere. Someone’s very expensive bra hung from the ceiling fan. This was not exactly what you wanted to come home to after a long day of work.

You know you agreed to let your roommate/best friend Yoongi throw a party, but when you thought of a Yoongi party you imagined some wine and appetizers and a few people sitting around talking about music or something. Once you spotted Jimin in the hallway you knew he was the culprit for the party getting out of hand thanks to his social butterfly status.

You searched through apartment trying to find your roommate wanting to make sure he was okay, but also making sure he knew it was 100% his responsibility to clean up this mess.

Hearing a loud bang followed by some cheers coming from the kitchen you figured that’s where the party must’ve moved to and you were correct.

The small kitchen was packed full of people to the point you couldn’t even squeeze through so you resigned to standing on your tiptoes to look through the sea of people for Yoongi.

Thankfully it wasn’t too hard to spot him. He was in the corner swaying back and forth with a desperate looking Namjoon trying to talk him out of something. Yoongi pushed him aside and jumped up on the kitchen table stumbling a little. Namjoon quickly grabbed onto his legs to try and steady him while you felt an immediate sense of panic wanting to get to him.

“Hello, Hello…is this thing on?”, he asked tapping into the beer bottle at if it was a microphone.

“Listen everyone I have something I need to get off my chest and I might be just a tiny little bit drunk so now is the perfect time.”

You giggled at his confession. Yoongi was pretty good at monitoring his alcohol intake so you were a little surprised that he let it get this far though.

“Escuse me.”, he slurred and the crowd got quiet again.

“Some of you probably already know this, but I just can’t hold it in any more. I’m in love.”

You felt your heart sink just a little. You’d been harboring the biggest secret crush on him for the last two years, but were way too afraid to say something in fear of ruining the friendship and it looks like you lost your chance anyways.

He continued, “I, Min Yoongi, love my best friend. That’s right. You heard it here first. I love Y/N.”

You gasped before you were able to make eye contact with Namjoon who seemed more than happy to see you there.

“Okay that is all. I just wanted to make it known that I love Y/N and she is mine.”, Yoongi said before lazily falling down onto the table.

The next morning you cleaned up around the apartment because you knew with the hangover he was going to have that Yoongi was going to be pretty much useless and you couldn’t stand sitting in the filth any longer. Close to noon he finally came stumbling into the living room rubbing his head and trying to shield his eyes from the light.

“Morning sunshine.”, you smiled handing him a cup of coffee you had ready.

“I feel like I got hit by a car.”, he groaned taking a seat.

“Yeah not surprised. You were pretty messed up.”

“Did anything embarrassing happen?”, he asked with a wince.

As if on queue his phone dinged.

You peaked over his shoulder to see the text message from Jungkook with a video attached.

Yoongi pressed play and the familiar sound of the beginning of his drunken rant started immediately.

Suddenly it all came back to him so he quickly shut off the video before it could go any further and slammed his phone down.

“Why’d you shut it off? It was a good speech.”, you pouted.

His face turned a bright shade of red as he looked over at you, “How much of that did you hear?”

You chuckled, “All of it. Every last word.”

He ran his hands over his face, “Fuck I’m so sorry Y/N. I understand if you want to move out. Or if you want me to move out. I can go stay at Namjoons until I find a place. This is why I don’t drink without you here.”

“Yoongi did you mean what you said? Even the part about me being yours?”

He looked at you with wide eyes, “Um yeah, yeah I did. But you don’t have to feel the same way. I’m an adult and can take rejection.”

He continued to babble on and on and seeing no end insight you did the only thing you could think of to shut him up by crashing your lips into his.

After you pulled away from the kiss he shyly smiled, “So I take it you like me too?”

“Yes, you idiot.”

You stood up and walked towards the door before motioning for him to follow, “Now come on. One of your friends threw up all over our rug so you’re buying a new one. And then you can take your girlfriend out to dinner as a thank you for cleaning up after everyone.”

He smiled while grabbing his keys in one hand and making sure to have a strong hold of your hand in the other.

[cuubism]

I complained that Morpheus's season 2 cemetery fit wasn't tits-out, @magnusbae said "tits in outfits are so devastating because you know there's tits to be seen but they're in," I decided that's something Hob would say while drunk and that he should say it to Dream's face. And here we are.

--

“Listen,” Hob says, with the slurred, utter conviction of the very intoxicated, “listen. This’s. Important.”

“I am sure,” Dream agrees, sipping his wine. He himself is not drunk, but he’s gaining a surprising amount of amusement from watching Hob.

“You listening?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah,” Hob sighs, looking down into his glass. “You’re a good listener.”

Before Dream can respond to this, Hob shakes himself.

“But listen. S’such a tragedy you know?”

“What is?”

“Tits,” Hob says passionately, and Dream chokes on his wine.

“In,” he manages, once he’s swallowed and not asphyxiated, which felt dangerously possible despite his nonhuman form, “what way?”

“Always covered up,” Hob says mournfully, face crumbling. “Should be more societal—” he stumbles over the words, tongue heavy in his mouth, “socially acceptable to just. Be tits out. You know?”

Dream is not certain he himself has a strong opinion on the matter. He does not spend much time contemplating others’ breast tissue.

“Perhaps one day it will be,” he says, in an attempt to soothe Hob’s devastated expression.

“Can’t come soon enough,” Hob agrees, and raises his glass to Dream’s in a toast to the matter.

Dream obligingly clinks their glasses, and after Hob has drunk, swaps Hob’s glass of beer for a glass of water. Hob doesn’t seem to notice.

“Horrible to know that they’re there and you can’t even see them,” Hob continues.

“Torturous,” Dream agrees. “Unsurvivable.”

“Nah nah nah,” Hob counters, waving a hand. “Tits is a reason to survive.”

“I see,” Dream says, hiding a smile. He suspects Hob will be too hungover to even remember this in the morning. Probably it is for the best.

“Eleanor had great tits,” Hob sighs. “Among other things.”

For a moment Dream worries his cheerful drunkenness will tip over into melancholy, but then Hob adds, seemingly oblivious to how he’s blowing past his usual boundaries, “You know. I always thought—” he hiccups “—that you would have. Fuckin’. Bangin’ tits.”

Dream drops his wine glass.

It shatters against the table, but he pays it no mind as he stares at Hob, who’s looking off into the middle distance, lost in a memory.

“Dunno why,” he says. “You’re always so. Covered up. But I know there’s something there. You’re beautiful, you’re…” he trails off.

Dream does not know what to say to this, to the revelation that Hob is thinking of him in such a way. It strikes him more strongly than even hearing the word tits applied to his person, which is its own hard shock indeed.

Perhaps he is more drunk than he’d thought, for the first response that does come to his mind is would you like to see them?

This is undoubtedly a cue to end the evening.

“I think perhaps you should have some water and sleep now, Hob,” he says. “Your body will not thank you tomorrow.”

“Mmm,” Hob says, not really listening to him. “Yeah…”

Dream takes him by the arm and pulls him up from the table, manages to maneuver a stumbling Hob to the stairs at the back of the inn, to his bedroom, where he lays Hob down on the bed, pulling off his shoes. Hob reaches for him, and for a moment Dream is afraid Hob is going to grab at his chest, but he doesn’t, just lightly touches Dream’s cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, the words all blurred together, and something in Dream’s chest tightens.

“Sleep now, Hob.” He brushes a hand over Hob’s forehead, and Hob falls asleep instantly, relaxing into the pillow.

Dream lays a blanket over him, leaves water and aspirin on the nightstand. Stands, observing Hob, for longer than is proper or necessary. And then takes his leave to the Dreaming, where Hob’s words, drunken ramblings though they were, circle him for hours afterwards.

--

The fact of the matter is. Dream wants Hob. And has for some time. He does not know when exactly it struck him, only that he has increasingly become fixated on Hob’s hands, on the breadth of his shoulders, the warmth of his eyes. He has not known how to broach the topic. He has never had a lover who was a friend before.

Nor had he known whether Hob would be receptive to such a thing.

He supposes he has that answer now.

Hob has also handed him, though he probably did not realize it, an easy way to convey his interest. It will also, Dream thinks with a little smile, be somewhat… amusing to surprise Hob with the reality of his desire. Likely he never thought that would be the outcome of ranting to Dream about his breasts, such as they are.

I will visit him tits out, he resolves. Tomorrow, when he wakes.

--

Dream is no stranger to more revealing attire, though he has not cared to wear it since his captivity. This, he thinks, is worthy of making the change. He garbs himself in normal slacks and boots, his usual long coat open and unbuttoned— but under it is a sheer, long sleeved shirt, ruffled collar, cut out over the chest precisely as Hob had requested, drunk though he was. Truly, Dream thinks, observing the look in the mirror he has manifested in his chambers, the fashion of this decade is interesting indeed.

Thus clothed to the requirements, Dream commands his sand to take him to Hob’s flat, now that he can feel Hob has woken. He stands in Hob’s living room, and he waits.

Hob comes into the living room at the sound of his arrival, rubbing his eyes, still sleepy and hungover. He’s still in pajamas, and clearly has not been awake long. “Listen, Dream, I’m so fucking sorry, I should not have said— oh holy fuck.”

“I thought this would appeal,” Dream says, and watches Hob reel, eyes wide.

“Appeal. Appeal? Appeal to what, my fucking dick? Oh Jesus Mary and God-fucking-dammit, I’m making it worse—”

Dream is feeling very validated in his choice now. He smirks, taking a step closer. “You were very passionate last night. I thought perhaps. You would like to test your theory.”

Hob’s eyes are still huge. He swallows, throat bobbing, gaze bouncing between Dream’s eyes and his lips and his bare chest.

“My theory,” Hob says faintly. “Are you coming onto me? Please tell me you’re coming onto me and not just trying to break me. Because you broke me, I’m broken.”

“Until you spoke last night I… did not know that you thought of me like that,” Dream admits.

“Didn’t know? And here I thought I was the most obvious—” he bites the sentence off. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not dreaming, am I? I guess it could still be you…”

“You are not dreaming,” Dream confirms.

Hob steps closer to him, then, as if hypnotized. Strokes a thumb lightly over one of Dream’s bare nipples, and Dream shivers at the touch. Then Hob presses his hands flat to Dream’s chest, cups what little flesh is there in his palms. Dream does not have a particularly substantial chest but Hob seems compelled anyway.

“Are my ‘tits,’” Dream asks, quoting Hob from last night, “‘banging,’ Hob Gadling?”

Hob goes bright red, but doesn’t remove his hands. “Yeah, Dream,” he says, strangled, “you have the prettiest little titties I ever saw.”

This is not something Dream has ever cared about or even considered about himself, but he preens anyway.

“And if you’ve no objections I’d really like to get my mouth on them,” Hob continues. “You free now? Or did you come just to upend my world and run?”

“I am ‘free,’” Dream confirms. This is, in fact, his desired outcome. “Is that the only place you will put your mouth?”

“Fucking hell.” Hob kisses him then, rough and hot, hands going to Dream’s waist to pull him in so their bellies are touching. Dream hums in pleasure. And Hob pushes his coat off his shoulders. It falls to the floor, unheeded. “No, I want to fucking bite you. Kiss you everywhere. And I dunno what you have going on down there, but I’m going for that, too.”

Dream raises an eyebrow. “‘What I have going on down there?’”

Hob huffs. “Well I don’t know, you personification of insanity. What do you have going on down there?”

“What would you like me to have going on?”

“No,” Hob says, half a whine. “Don’t say shit like that, I’m not a strong man. Come on.”

He takes Dream by the hand, drags him towards his bedroom. And Dream smiles to himself. A desired outcome, indeed.

[drjholtzmann]

this is dreamling more than dead boy detectives but it's been in my head since reading issue #25 after s1 of sandman. so, now feels like a good time to release it into the world. i just want them all to get in each others way

(season of mists spoilers)

------------

It’s not often that Hob smokes. It’s an expensive habit, and secondhand smoke and all that. But it’s hardly going to kill him, so he’s usually got an ancient pack on hand somewhere. Handy, especially in situations like this. Not that there’s ever been a situation like this before but, well. You live long enough. 

He slips out into the beer garden of the pub, lighting up almost absent mindedly, the action still muscle memory. 

“What the fuck,” he mutters, rubbing his thumb along his lower lip, “what the fuck. Dream, if you have bloody anything to do with this, I swear to god, Morpheus. What the fucking fuck.” He closes his eyes, lets his head fall back against the brickwork. Despite it all he huffs an exhausted laugh. Because sure. Of course. Yeah, why not. Of course this would happen. “Jesus Christ, Morpheus. Even if this isn’t you, bloody… fucking wish I could just ask.” It’s all said barely above a whisper. Just in case. Always just in case. He blindly ashes his cigarette and heaves out a heavy breath, “Lord above,” he scoffs, raising the cigarette to his lips again. 

“Hob?”

Hob startles, eyes snapping open, head knocking back sharply against the brick. “Fuck – ow – Dream?” He raises his free hand to rub the back of his head, wincing slightly. “That, uh… that worked better than expected.” 

“You were calling for me?”

“Yeah… sorta. I didn’t… think it worked like that. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You did not. I had thought briefly of you.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Hob grins. “How come? You miss me already?”

Morpheus sends him a withering look. 

“I, um… dreamt of you. While ago. Was that – real?”

“It was.”

He nods, thumb nervously tapping the filter of his cigarette. “Uh huh. Figured. With the wine, and…” he trails off. The hollow feeling of that dream, or rather, of that waking coming back to him in full force. “You said some ominous shit. Then I said some ominous shit. Was that real, too?”

Morpheus nods solemnly. 

“Right. Don’t suppose you’ll explain that?” Morpheus remains silent. “Right. Course not. Things okay, though? Now? I mean,” he gestures to his friend, “you’re here. That must be good, yeah?”

“Yes. And no.”

“Great. Fab.”

“What I thought I was facing has… changed.”

“...’kay. Well, can I ask you a question?”

Morpheus pauses but, after a moment, nods.

“S’it got anything to do with the dead kids hanging out in my pub?”

“What?”

“Yeah, couple of boys who look like they should definitely be in school – about, oh, fifty years ago. At least.”

Morpheus’ eyes don’t actually widen in alarm, but there is something to that effect happening… not quite in his expression, but in his aura, perhaps. Hob gets the feeling that if he were a cat the fur along his spine would be standing on end. 

“So… it is related?” 

“Perhaps.”

“Definitely, then.” Hob takes a short puff of his cigarette. 

“Show me?” 

“Uh… I don’t know if they know that people can see them. I don’t know if people who aren’t me can see them, actually. So just, um…” the caution dies in his throat as he realises who it is he’s talking to. Morpheus will do what he will, Hob’s advice be damned. 

Dream draws close, peering in through the windowpane of the door back into the pub. “How do you know?”

“You get pretty good at feeling when things are off once you’ve been around the block six hundred years or so. Also, they walked in through the closed front door. As in, passed right through the solid wood and glass.”

“I see.”

“Why are they here?” 

“To sample your fine selection of craft beer, perhaps?”

“Oh, he’s joking,” Hob has joined his side in peering not-so-surreptitiously through the door. “‘Mortal plane’ here, not here-here.”

“Death must have been busy… It is not like her to leave a job unfinished without good reason.”

“Must’ve…? What the fuck could be so horrific that Death is being kept busy?”

Morpheus, beside him, is silent. Deadly still. And it tells Hob all he needs to know. 

“Dream,” he hisses, “what the fuck is this? What’s going on?”

There is a long pause. “I ought not to tell you.” Dream murmurs, still facing the glass panel of the door.

“And I ought not have two dead teenagers in my pub. All things relative.” 

“They are causing no harm.”

“I don’t doubt that. It’s you I’m worried about now.”

“Your concern is of no use. What I mean is that they are no poltergeists, not aggressive, there seems to be nothing demonic about them.”

“Which means… there are poltergeists and demons running about at the mo?”

“I told you, I ought not say. There are diplomatic proceedings to take place.”

“You get that that makes even less sense, yeah?”

Dream seems to, at last, with an almighty eye roll, give in. “Hell is closed,” he hisses, turning to face Hob directly. 

“Hell is closed.” Hob repeats back, dumbfounded. “And that means… The devils are all here?”

“Precisely.”

“But the boys… aren’t devils?”

“They are not.”

“Okay. That’s good news. And the devils?”

Dream shrugs, sharp and languid. “Anywhere. Everywhere.”

“Great. Okay. Less good. Very much less good. So, uh. What… do I do? Am I supposed to exorcise them? Because, I have to be honest – would really rather not do that.” 

“You are under no obligations.”

“Oh.” 

“They could not be here without Death’s knowledge or her say-so. She will come for them in time.”

“Oh.” Inexplicably, Hob’s heart sinks a little.

“They are not alive, Hob.” Dream says, looking him in the eye. “They cannot live forever as the dead.” 

“Hm. Yeah. S’pose.” He looks through the windowpane at the two boys, chatting animatedly at a corner table out of the way. “They’re just kids, though. Barely got a normal life.”

“You cannot save them, Hob.”

“Why not?”

“You cannot. They may not be destined for Hell, but that doesn’t mean they can stay amongst the living.” 

“Says who?”

“The universe. Death, herself.”

Hob smirks, tilting his head down a fraction to look up at Dream from under a quirked brow. “You know what I think of Death.”

And Hob catches the tension at the corner of Dream’s mouth that he knows, whatever he might say to the contrary, is a suppressed smile. 

“C’mon, what if I just help ‘em live a little? While they’re here?”

“Hob.”

“What?! Can’t a guy be nice?”

“I have meetings to attend to.”

“That’s not a no.” 

“I think it a poor choice to flaunt immortality in front of two who have died so young. I would caution against it.”

“Okay. Fuck, fair point. But they don’t have to know about me. They wouldn’t somehow know, right?”

“I would caution against it, Hob Gadling.”

[lazyneonrabbitt]

"You'd make a great dad someday."

Then

Aaron's voice still echoed in Daryl's mind long after he had gone back to camp that evening. He had shrugged it off in the moment, but now he kept wondering what he meant with the comment.

It wasn't like he had someone special in his like he could make a mother, and he was just Uncle Daryl to little Judith.

He wasn't given much time to think about it between getting much needed sleep and the horde plan going sideways resulting in rushing Aaron to the medical tent.

Aaron lost his arm then, and was sent home to recover.

Daryl was the one who brought him home, where he was asked to stick around. He was shown how to dress his wound and ordered to help Aaron around his days for a while.

Now

Daryl slumped down on the couch. The day's tasks on top of having baby Grace with him all day had drained him completely.

Aaron was needed in person to get his new prosthetic fitted and had trusted Daryl alone with their daughter.

While Daryl normally was a quick sfudy, there were some small things he just couldn't get the hang of when it came to the little girl.

A full day of keeping Grace close as he took care of house tasks Aarom couldn't, feeding her, changing her diapers, bathing her and getting her to stop crying in between, and then now finally getting her to fall asleep at last.

Daryl was still busy with a fussing Grace when Aaron had returned home, hearing the old hunter hum a soft tune after some calm complaints.

He kept quiet in the kitchen for a while and watched Daryl slump down on the couch with a groan.

With two glasses hung between the fingers of his new hand, and a bottle of wine held in the other he went to the livingroom to join his housemate and coparent.

"Here, looks like you need it." Aaron appeared next to the couch and smiled as Daryl opened one eye to look at him. "It's no beer, but it'll have to do for now." He held out the wine bottle for Daryl to take as he moved to take the glasses off his hand and set them down on the table.

"Hmh, thanks. Lil' Gracie's way more of a hassle to look after alone." Daryl brushed the hair out of his face and poured the wine generously.

"That bad?" Aaron had sat down next to Daryl and taken his glass to rest on his leg as he sat back against the backrest. "I should've just taken you both along with me, really."

The room fell silent for a moment, until Aaron spoke once more.

"Heard you hum her to sleep earlier. Told you you'd be a great dad."

Again, just like then at the bridge, Daryl scoffed. He took a large swig of his drink and leaned back against the couch.

If anyone had told him when they just arrived that he'd be sharing a home with another man and raising a daughter together, he'd threaten them.

But now? He was content.

[almostgenerallyalways]

mamas (don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader Category: angst / fluff / run-on sentences Word count: 3,1k CW: language, I’ve been to Texas once okay forgive me, divorce Author’s note: this was supposed to be a holiday fic but I got stuck on it and almost abandoned it, but here it is rescued from my drafts, shoutout to all the amazing tgm fic writers your writing truly astounds me

Summary: Every year around the holidays, you hear from your ex. This year when you don’t respond, he decides to show up at your door. 

2022

Jake UT  [November 23, 2022 at 10:24 PM]

Hey stranger

Visiting my mom for Thanksgiving

How’ve you been?

You ignore the message. How you’ve been in the last twelve months is not something you feel up to discussing with him.

You spend the next weeks dealing with crisis after crisis at work, leaning into the chaos like you have been all year. Your personal life? Garbage fire. Reconfiguring your entire pump setup two weeks before going to production, because the DoC slapped an import ban on one of your key suppliers in China? You’re on top of it.

But then, the week before Christmas, another message comes in:

Jake UT  [December 17th, 2022 at 3:47 PM]

Hey

In town for the holidays

Would love to see you if you’re free

Brett welcome too, of course

A pang in your chest, but curiosity gets the better of you, so you text back:

Thanksgiving and Christmas? Judy must be thrilled.

You’ve met Jake’s mom all of one time, ten years ago, but she made a lasting impression. Fiercely protective of her only son, she’d been wary of you at first (you were, in order of importance: Too non-Texan, too vegetarian, and too focused on trying to rescue an almost-due group project for your sustainable water management class in which no one was pulling their weight).

And yet, over the Thanksgiving weekend you’d spent at Jake’s mother’s house in Colton, she’d slowly warmed up to you. You’d asked her endless questions about her job as a project manager at Austin-Bergstrom, and she’d poured you half glasses of wine (still exotic, to you, back then) at the kitchen island, shooing Jake back into the living room.

She’d even called you, after you guys broke up, to say she was sorry to hear it, and to tell you to call her up any time you needed someone to talk to. You’d tried your best to keep your voice even, not to break down in tears for the seventh time that day, and never called her again.

* * *

“Dude. Put your phone away for two minutes.”

Jake looks up apologetically at his friend, and pockets the device. “Sorry. Just expecting a text.”

Sandeep holds out his bottle of Lone Star, and Jake clinks it with his own. “It’s good to see you, man. Sorry I wasn’t around at Thanksgiving, we were visiting Jed’s family in NC. I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”

Jake takes a swig of his beer, the cold liquid feeling like a balm to his throat. “Yeah, well. It’s been a big year, work-wise, so they owed me one. I wanted to spend some extra time with my mom.”

Bringing up his drink to toast again, Sandeep says: “Here’s to you, bud. And to getting that permanent assignment in California. At least we knew where to send our holiday card this year.”

Condensation drips down the neck of his bottle, and Jake spins it slowly in his hand, stopping himself from peeling off the label. He feels on edge, unmoored, despite this 6th Street dive bar being as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.

Sandeep’s got his number. “Seeing anyone else while you’re in town? I don’t know, Myers?”

Jake doesn’t look up, but feels his cheeks heat up fractionally.

His friend takes another swig of his beer. “I guess I should stop calling her Myers. You know, with the divorce and all.”

The bottle escapes Jake’s grip, and amber liquid sloshes across the table, into Sandeep’s lap. “Shit, Seresin! Grab some napkins, will you?”

* * *

 2012

 You’d always known there was an expiration date on this thing with Jake, which is why you’d been reluctant to meet his mom to begin with.

You wanted fundamentally different things. He, the Navy: Adventure, excitement, a chance to serve his country. You: Stability. A family. A place where you belonged.

Both of you: an opportunity to prove yourself.

It’s civil, as far as breakups go.

“You always knew I wanted to fly.” He says, over breakfast at Magnolia Café. There’s a hard set to his jaw that makes you soften in contrast, because of course you do, everyone who’s ever been near Jake Seresin for longer than ten minutes knows he’s always wanted to fly.

From your first date he told you about how Judy used to park him in her office at the airport when her summer childcare fell through; little Jake happily spending the day watching commercial jets taxiing and taking off in quick succession.

How her coworkers, the civilian engineers who’d stayed on after Bergstrom Air Force Base was decommissioned and commercialized, would regale him with stories about generations of F-4 Phantoms. Or the British Airways Concorde, one of only twenty of the ill-fated aircraft ever made, bringing the Queen to Austin in a little yellow hat. The Reconnaissance Air Meet bringing in the best fighter pilots from across all divisions of the military and abroad, to compete and show off their skills.

Jake would listen to them with stars in his eyes.

You pick at your migas, your appetite gone. “I know, Jake. I would never stop you.”

But you look at him, and you know your face mirrors his determination. “But I can’t come with you, Jake. I can’t start my career following you around from camp to base year to year. I’m forty-thousand dollars in debt getting this degree, and I need to follow my own plan.”

You haven’t moved in together, though Jake spends most of his nights at your tiny off-campus apartment, where you’ve made him countless cups of black coffee trying to fuel weekend study sessions. Where he would come in past midnight, back from the late shift at his part-time job at the H-E-B, and bury his face in your neck, waking you up even though you’d been asleep for hours. Where you would hold his sleeping head to your chest, his deep breathing somehow felt inside of you, and run your fingers up and down the bare skin of his back, trying to memorize him.

You’re twenty-two, you tell yourself. This is not the end of the world.

So you see him off at the front door, a box of his things clutched to his chest, and you force yourself to be strong. “You better be,” and you try to smile up at him, but you’re not sure you’re doing a convincing job, “You better be the best goddamn pilot the Navy has ever seen, Jake.”

For a second, he looks like he wants to say something, but then he just puts down the box, and pulls you into a last embrace. You sink into it, the fundamentally safe feeling of his arms around you, then make yourself pull away after a minute, pretending you don’t see the wet stains on his shirt.

Later you look at all the spaces in your apartment he is now conspicuously absent from (no dog-eared volume of Game of Thrones on the nightstand, no boots by the door), and it hits you then; the crevasse he’s left in your life. It may run deeper than you thought.

* * *

Jake had gone to Officer Candidate School in Rhode Island, then designator-specific training in Pensacola, Florida, and done his best not to think about you.

It helped that his days were intense and exhausting. It helped that, on liberty weekends, girls would flock to him and his friends in bars.

It helped to be several states away from you.

It helped to be living his dream.

* * *

There is a bit of a backslide, that first Thanksgiving after, where you both think it can’t hurt to see each other for one drink, for old time’s sake, which ends in him taking you up against the door in your new apartment, your legs wrapped around his waist because he does not have the willpower or presence of mind to figure out the way to your bedroom.

He knows it was a mistake, at about five AM the next day, when the blue light of morning starts streaming through a gap in the curtains, illuminating your tousled hair fanned out over the pillow, the steady rise and fall of your chest so familiar to him he could cry.

Untangling himself from you hurts, and he does perhaps the most cowardly thing he ever will: he sneaks out before you wake up. But next week he’s shipping out, and the thought of the same dead-end conversation over coffee made just the way he likes it is unbearable, so he makes himself walk away.

Somehow it’s worse, the second time around.

* * *

You’d met someone else, like he’d known you would. He sees the engagement announcement on Facebook, browsing on his phone between drills, and likes the post. It’s the third year he’s been away, and he’s at TOPGUN by then, so he has a lot on his mind. He has a girlfriend, even, a local: cute as a button, beats him savagely at pool.

It doesn’t fully hit him until the first time he sees you with your then-fiancé, at a little holiday reunion of college friends. He sees you with that ring on your finger, another man’s arm around your shoulders, and he gets an acute sense of the alternate reality that could’ve been his.

It feels a little like losing altitude too fast.

Your initial reception of him is understandably frosty, but you seem too genuinely happy to hold a grudge. By the third round, when he sidles up to you at the bar, you give him a quick hug, looking up at him with a smile that squeezes his heart: “I’m so proud of you, Jake.”

He nods, not quite trusting himself to speak, and pulls you back in, just for a moment, tucking your head under his chin. You smell like apple and magnolia, like nights spent with his nose pressed into your back.

You don’t invite him to the wedding, and he’s all too glad not to have to make up an excuse not to go.

* * *

Things settle, after that. Jake gets deployed and reassigned, breaks up with his girlfriend and eventually gets another. You get promoted to senior engineer, then project lead. You see each other, not every year but close enough, sometimes with your husband there, sometimes without.

He braces himself for the next Facebook post; that you’re pregnant, but it never comes. Over time, even that seems to lose some of its potential emotional impact on him.  

Until three weeks ago, when you don’t text him back.

* * *

 2022

 You kick your shoes off in the entryway, then head into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. Before you can reach the tap, the doorbell rings, and for a second you think somehow, some way, your terrible Bumble date has followed you home.

Grabbing the biggest kitchen knife you own off the magnet strip over the sink, just in case, you creep back to the door, barefoot, to press your face up to the peephole.

You don’t really expect to see the guy you just left, the ice in your glass not even melted before you were thinking up excuses to get out of there, but you sure as fuck don’t expect to see Jake either.

The door feels heavier than usual as you slowly slide it open, or maybe you’re just a little stunned. The night air hits your skin, and you can make out the sound of dogs barking in the distance.

For a long moment, Jake just looks at you, but then he says: “What were you planning on doing with that, sweetheart?”

You follow the jut of his chin down the line of your arm, and contemplate the knife for a second, Jake’s sudden appearance having made you forget all about it.

“I thought someone might have followed me here.”

“Ah.” He says, a spark in his eyes, clearly suppressing a smile. “If you were going to defend yourself in hand-to-hand combat, a knife is a terrible choice. I could give you some tips, though.”

Putting the damn thing down on your entryway console, you turn back to look at him. It’s not cold, exactly, in December in South Central Austin, but he looks underdressed: a long-sleeved light grey t-shirt, hands shoved in the pockets of a faded pair of jeans.

He looks good, you can’t deny it: he’s always had an immediate effect on you.

Jake, your somewhat gangly, sweet college boyfriend had it. Jake, ten years of military training later: older, filled out, fine crinkly lines starting to appear at the corners of his eyes (helped along by the California sun and God knows what far-off places), irrevocably still does.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. “What are you doing here, Jake?”

At that, his expression sobers, and he looks at you for a long moment before he says:

“You didn’t tell me.”

* * *

Fucking Sandeep, you think, rubbing the back of your hand across your eyes, because that fucker has not been subtle with the hints lately, tutting like a Victorian matron while you pass the time evaluating your Bumble matches with his husband during Monday night football’s ad breaks.

The granite of your kitchen countertop feels reassuringly cool beneath your thighs, and you take a deep breath, keeping your eyes on the tile below:

“I wasn’t ready.”

Jake huffs, or so you assume by the little sound that escapes him, as you determinedly face only his sneakers: “It’s been a year. You sure told everyone else we know.”

That makes your head snap up, emotion rising in your chest in a way you don’t like, have always had to tamp down when it comes to him, these last ten years. “Fuck off, Jake. You know it’s different when it comes to you.”

He leans back against the fridge, arms folded, just slightly lifting his right eyebrow at you in that irritating way of his: “I could’ve been there for you.”

Fuck it, you think, all cards on the table then. “I was heartbroken, and embarrassed, and trying to figure out how to exist on my own again after being married for five years to someone who didn’t turn out to be who I thought he was, Jake. Sorry my first impulse wasn’t to come cry on my hometown hero ex-boyfriend’s shoulder.”

His eyes soften, and he pushes off the fridge to come stand next to you, running his fingers over the edge of the countertop. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice quieter than a moment ago. “I’m being a dick. It’s just, you have to know, I would’ve been there for you.”

He pauses for a second, takes a deep breath: “It’s always been different when it comes to you too, sweetheart.”

You start to shake, a little, or maybe it’s your imagination. But your voice wavers as you say his name, everything about your tone a warning: “Jake.”

He closes his eyes, shakes his head: “Our timing sucked, and I don’t regret our decision from back then. I’m proud of who I’ve become in the last ten years, and I’m proud of you. You think I don’t keep up with what you’re doing? The articles you’ve published?”

This stuns you, momentarily. “No, Jake Seresin. If I’m completely honest, I didn’t think you gave a shit about the latest advances in Texas drought management.”

Just being near him, the familiar smell of him bringing up memories you’ve had years to unsuccessfully repress, is overpowering.

He makes it worse by turning to you, face so goddamn heartbreakingly earnest as he says: “I couldn’t give you what you deserved, ten years ago, but I always told myself, if I was ever in a position to…” He swallows. “I tried to forget about it when you got married, I tried to root for you and Brett, I swear.”

His hand settles next to your thigh, not quite touching, and your hand comes down on its own accord to cover his. He straightens almost imperceptibly, uses his other palm to wipe a tear that’s made its way down your cheek.

Cupping your face, he draws a deep breath. “I have a permanent assignment now, in San Diego. I know it’s…”

“Jake.” You interrupt, squeezing your eyes shut, grabbing the hem of his shirt. “I’m not remotely the same person I was back then.”

He moves to stand in front of you now, and you draw him in between your thighs. Suddenly it seems imperative that you feel him, that he holds you.

Dipping his head to yours, you can hear the smile in his voice, watery, tentative: “Then let me get to know you again. Get to know me again.” He leans one hand on the counter, the other tracing your cheekbone. “No pressure. I’m totally very cool about this. Whatever you want.”

You laugh, a little choked up through tears, but genuine. It feels liberating. “What if I say yes? How does this work?”

His smile broadens, eyes crinkling at the corners, and he’s so goddamn close, nudging your nose with his. “Come visit me, for a start. I’ll show you the sights.”

You draw him in a little closer still, legs wrapping around his waist, one hand finding its way into his close-cropped hair, and you could cry for how familiar he still feels after all these years.

But when you close the gap between your lips and his, it’s like coming home and yet not at all: he’s different and rougher and sharper and it floods you with emotion, something big and terrifying and old and new.

He leans into the kiss, grinning, cards his fingers through your hair before he moves to cover your chin, your brow, the space next to your ear with kisses, and you remember this with a jolt to your heart – how singularly intense it is to be the focus of Jake Seresin, like the strength of the sun is aimed at you, how he never does anything by halves.

You take his chin in your hand, kiss him again for good measure, before saying, into the stubble of his jaw: “One visit. No pressure.”

The grin he gives you in return could power half this city: “One visit. No pressure.”

He dips his head to yours again, kissing the skin behind your ear as he tells you: “Southern California has a lot of drought problems, you know. I’ve actually been reading some really scary articles about it.”

.

.

.

i hope you enjoyed :):) - if you liked this I hope you’ll check out some of my other work:

where the wild things are (rooster x reader)

cross my heart (hangman x reader) masterlist

[forthelostones]

inna good way ─── ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚🍸 fem!reader x college!ellie 🍸⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡

" 'cus you make me wanna cry in a good way"

synopsis: it was the day before graduation and your ex-best friend threw a party. you visit and see if there's something left.

warnings. 18+ (mdni); soft ellie, fluff(?), suggestive language, jealousy, abby ft, smoking/drinking, mentions of insecurities, & grinding. sfw!!!

an: hi everyone, thanks for all the love on my other works! that means a lot to me, make sure if you like my writing to make suggestions! (p.s. i'm drinking wine & missing uni sooo)

(no y/n)

♪ playlist: palace/curse, i. the party, in a good way, 2 AM . ♪

#normalgirlsyndrome

wc: 3.1k

you were staring at your phone at the edge of your mattress in your college apartment. boxes had been packed, the bed once in a frame on the floor, and your gown hung over your closet door. you knew ellie was throwing a party tonight at her house and you couldn’t refuse the opportunity to go. although you didn’t have a choice because your roommates insisted you had one last night together. so, before you taped up your boxes, you pulled out your traditional going outfit, ready to hit it one last time. you were already tipsy from the four glasses of white wine you inhaled while doing your makeup. you tapped through ellie’s story ferociously over and over. she had been posting videos of her smoking a joint and playing beer pong, waiting for people to show.  you couldn't help but smile at her sweet face.

you felt a twist in your stomach as you thought about seeing her again. of course you had seen her around campus and waved, but things had gotten more awkward than you’d both admit. the relationship turned dry but you remember the touches of her hands on those random “dates” that she refused to acknowledge. they were so sweet and soft, you yearned for more, especially the nights when you were alone touching yourself in your bed wishing it were her. she refused that she had any feelings for you after a seldom walk near the lake where the stillness of the water was louder than her lack of words. “I just thought we’d be better as best friends lovey,” she told you. her mouth said one thing but her eyes said another, you were sure she was lying. you saw her around with dina, her on-and-off girlfriend, wondering what she had that you didn’t. you picked yourself apart one random date ago while you cried and stared at her photos on instagram. you found yourself reopening those wounds as you began to head for the door. 

the smell of sweating bodies and weed cause your lungs to tighten, forcing a cough out of your throat. your heart became tight at the thought of seeing her, you couldn’t quite place why. so many memories flood your head — remembering the sound of her guitar trilling through the night on her back porch, where she sang your favorite songs to you. her fingers meticulously tracing the guitar's neck, making it perfect for you. you fell into the corner you typically shove yourself into, as your friends handed you a red cup with a clear liquid that smelled like tequila. 

you took it straight, not caring about the consequences. your throat burned with sweet satisfaction, once the liquor dropped into your belly, you felt sweat bulb to your top lip. they handed you another, this time with a lime, and you noticed abby, the captain of the rugby team eyeing you. this wouldn’t have been the first time you caught her staring. you flutter your heavy lashes in her direction as you bite your lower lip ever so slightly. abby was attractive, she was fit beyond belief and you could imagine the type of positions she could put you in with no effort. she started making a stride towards you in her all black ensemble. 

a text hits your home-screen, it’s ellie.

come smoke. 

you ignore the message as abby comes beaming with a smile. 

“hey pretty.” she muttered. 

i know you’re here come onnnn. 

ellie knew you only smoked with her, she wouldn’t ask you otherwise. so, you grab abby by the hand and grin right back at her. “you wanna come smoke with me?” you ask, not really giving her a choice. 

was your intent to make ellie jealous… no… but yes, because you were only just friends. abby follows your lead naturally towards the back patio glimmering brightly ahead. you both slip past the kitchen, through the sliding doors where ellie is chatting with her roomates, and you wave at her. she’s not blitzed yet, so she has a smug look on her face when she sees abby. her twisted face is illuminated by the fairy lights gleaming softly around the perimeter of the porch. 

“hey els," abby says. 

“hi you.” you said, reaching directly for the blunt in her hand. 

her eyes scan your body, she loved when you wore that outfit, as you bent down she snuck a look at your breast, clearly spilling out of your top. abby sits in the wooden lawn chair just parallel of ellie and you perch yourself in her lap, her hands automatically coming around your waist. they were bigger than they seemed and you felt a heat patch warm your core. ellie could never hide her facial expressions, she attempted to not turn to look, instead, she turned her chair. 

beer?” she asks abby. 

“yes please. thanks.” abby replies. 

“make me something.” you demand. 

ellie sets her jaw and moves slowly into the kitchen past a herd of people. you bring the blunt to your lips, sucking in, holding, then exhaling away from abby’s face. she was watching you intently, noticing how your lips puckered. you turn to her and place it between her lips, she coughed violently as the smog entered her lungs.

“aw. sorry, I didn't—“   

“nope it's,” she said with her thick throat. “never got to smoke because of rugby.” 

you just hit her with an understanding face as you shift on her lap. her left hand moves to rest on your inner thigh and her other just at the curve of your ass as you perch closer into her. you face the joint and grab her cheeks, blowing smoke into her mouth, she inhales softly, both of your lips practically touching. you’d never give her the satisfaction as you noticed her hips pressing your backside.

ellie stood behind you both, holding a can of beer and a cocktail glass filled with your drink. you handed off the joint and took both in your hands. ellie noticed how close abby’s hands were to your crotch and became red with jealousy. ellie looked you in your eyes as she pushed out smoke from between her lips. as you sipped your Ellie concoction, abby’s hands trailed up your back under your top, she pulled you in closer to her chest as she whispered in your ear. “you’re so fucking hot.” 

you giggle at her praises but feel a knot form in your stomach as you keep unwavering eye contact with ellie’s as Abby continues to spout praises. you press down harder in her lap where she thrusted upwards into your ass. 

“so, you guys ready to graduate?” ellie interrupted, seeing how flustered you got. 

you sipped to avoid speaking as abby turned her head to answer ellie.

“yes. i’m thinking about backpacking around Asia for a bit.” 

“really? i’ve always wanted to do —“ 

“since when?” ellie cuts you off in a fiery spit. 

abby coughs and sips her beer in a gulp, finishing it all. 

“need another?” you ask. 

abby nods kindly and gently pats your ass as you get up. ellie passes the blunt to abby and follows you inside to go to the drink fridge in the basement. you know she’s following you, you can practically feel her breath on your neck as you zig-zag toward the steps. you reach the bottom of the basement stairs and see ellie’s silhouette at the top. you try and reach for the string near the lightbulb but can’t find it, your heart beats loudly in your ears as ellie’s converse tap towards you. she stands right in front of you, without saying a word, you can smell her shampoo mixed with weed, and she reaches up to turn the light on. you look at her light pink eyes, and furrowed brows, and notice her heaving. 

for a moment you both just stand in thick silence. 

“i have to get abby a beer.” you felt your feet become heavy and your mind drifted. 

before you could even open the refrigerator door an inch, she slams it shut. her eyebrows raise in curiosity. 

“speak.” you demand. 

taken aback, she gasps at your boldness. “well—I— what the fuck?” 

you shove past her and take another beer in your hands ignoring her dropped jaw. 

“you come to my party, rubbing up on that bitch, sitting in her lap… wha-when has that ever been like you?” 

“are you the only one allowed to have fun?” 

she froze, as abby called out.

“hey, you okay?” 

her voice was so protective, you felt her gaze down at the top of the stairs, making sure ellie didn’t do anything stupid. 

“i’m fine, ellie was helping me with something. i’ll be up.” 

you tried to convince abby, but she still stood watching, which made ellie twitch with anger. 

“i’m going to go to the bathroom pretty.” abby finally says leaving. 

“okay!” you yell out. 

“if you go, please don’t…” she babbled. 

you liked seeing her so weak for you, but it wasn’t enough. you stood your ground and dared to move past her, but she stopped you by grabbing your wrist. “ellie get off of me.” 

you felt the wine and weed settle in, you were sweating, panting, and fingertips buzzing. her touch felt so good, you couldn’t deny that. 

“pretty.” she mocked. 

At least someone sees it, you thought. 

                                                                                  — 

you officially lost Abby, she must’ve left or found someone else to caress. you didn’t mind, deep down you knew that’s not who you really wanted anyway. as you sipped a lone beer and wandered around the house your high was kicking in and the music entered your ears in a blur. no words were clear, just the bass booming on the hardwood creating a vibration under you. you reach the end of the hallway, where ellie’s room door stood. it seemed taller than usual, more daunting, stretching several feet upwards. you actually had never been in her room before; you saw it on her stories, or on facetime, but never in person. as you reached for the cold, gold knob you pause. 

you hear ellie’s laugh boom from behind you, so you follow it like sonar. you see her taking shots with her bandmates and you watch as her t-shirt lifts up ever so slightly to expose her naval. you wanted to know what it tasted like. her feet wobbled underneath her, and she was tipsy. you blink your eyes several times as you find a wall to lean on, and your hand travels back down the hall to open the big, scary door. you creep inside, it’s dark, but in the corner is a small desk lamp that illuminates a yellow hue onto the room. her bed was on the floor, room unpacked, shit was all on the floor, and her guitars were perched in the left corner of the room. to the right was her bathroom, you saw your reflection and had to focus to see your face. your eyes pink, lips wet, and body warm. you sipped more beer as you turned to her shower, you imagined ellie’s naked body, the way she rubbed the bar of soap around her neck, nipples, and in between. 

you went to sit on Ellie’s bed, you began to roll yourself in her messy, undone bedding. her smell was so thick, bruising your nostrils, filling you up. you remember how she treated you when dina was around and you became more pissed off. you swallowed the last drops of your drink and threw the bottle on the ground. warm tears began to bud and then you realized how your mascara would run down your cheeks. you pulled out your phone to check the damage. 

lets talk, im sorry. 

ellie’s message from two hours ago, you freeze, it’s been two hours? you bring your palms to your forehead and let out a soft sob. 

“i’ll be back, yea!” ellie hollers from the hallway. 

you straighten up immediately, she walks in hand in her hair, surprised to see you. 

“oh.” she says softly. 

you couldn’t help but sigh. you set your phone down on the ground and look up at her, she had a slight smile on her face seeing you like this, not knowing you were on the verge of tears just now. she closes the door behind her, bends down, and lifts your chin up. 

“you’re gone.” she giggles. 

you push her hand away and turn your face. 

“let me take care of you, come on. it’s the least I can do,” 

the softness in her voice shook you. 

“did you get my text lovey?” 

all you can muster is a nod as you begin to scoot towards the head of her bed.  

“why don’t you just, get comfortable, i’ll get you something to throw on.” 

she rummages loud through her boxes, which makes your head pound, and tosses you a clean, grey zip-up. she leaves the room quietly, flicking on the light in the bathroom and closing the door after she clicks off the table lamp. you remove your jeans and top, leaving you in your lace panties.

your head is pounding as you become more intoxicated by the scent of her earthy shampoo lingering on her pillow. you inhaled the familiar scent, imagining your hands running through her hair, pulling her closer to your neck. the door opens and you jolt as you remember you never put on the zip-up. 

“I’m sorry— I,” ellie gulps as she spills the glass of water she brought for you onto herself. you roughly zip yourself into the warmth that smelt like her laundry detergent. 

“i’m good.” you mutter. 

you both share a familiar laugh, and her gaze becomes shifty as she thinks about your body. she hands you a half-full glass of cold water with a nervous smile. 

“glass half full, right?” 

you sip and chuckle. 

stupid, fucking stupid Els, she thinks. 

she sits beside you at the opposite end of the bed, she ignores the fact that she can see your thighs unhindered by any fabric not obstructing her view. even though it was dark, she could still see you illuminated by the bathroom light. 

“good, urm,” she peered down at her now sheer shirt. “i will go and get ready for bed.” 

her nipples were suddenly erect from the cold water spreading onto her chest. You couldn’t help but notice them perk from under the thin, wife-pleaser material. she stood up to grab her night clothes and head for the bathroom, leaving you smothered in darkness. you couldn’t tell if your eyes were open or not, but the four walls that you imagined around you spun. 

you heard the water from the shower turn on and your fantasy brightened, thinking about ellie’s body. you became more drunk on the image of ellie touching herself in the shower because of you. knowing how intently she was watching you grind against abby, not only did it make her furious, it turned her on. she knew she made a mistake, picking dina over you all these years. you push your hips upwards, riding the mattress, inhaling ellie’s scent.

you found her name leave your lips softly, Ellie.

Ellie. 

you couldn’t tell the difference between your voice and your subconscious desire of moaning her name. you began to imagine her holding you.

Ellie. 

“lovey, you okay?” she said frightening you. 

you paused, realizing she opened the bathroom door, drying her hair on a towel. Her grey boxers clung to her body so sweetly. she wore a distressed band tee that sat just above her belly button. you had formed sweat around your hairline and your body perfectly contoured into the mattress. 

“i’m okay. yea, thanks.” 

she sighed as she bent down to sit at the edge of the bed. as she dried her hair she was thinking of the next move to make. you were bunched up under yourself, warm from embarrassment. her hand wrapped around your ankle gently, which shocked you, but your reaction time was too slow. she leaned over to kiss your leg, kisses feeling like a pure electric shock, you groaned at finally feeling her touch. 

“els.” you managed to say.

“what?” She said in between kisses, finally coming up the side of your thigh, with her left hand coasting up your backside. 

“no. i can’t.” 

your body pushes her hands away, startling her. she looked at you in pure shock, as if you were the one who was wrong. she crawled towards you with undeniable lust in her eyes. 

“why not?” she asked dumbfounded. 

“you rejected me all this time. you… dina…” you say attempting to jog her memory. 

“dina and i so what.” she moved an inch on all fours. 

“you chose her over me, so that’s that.” 

“baby,” she groaned. 

you melt at her voice, you couldn’t help it. 

" okay, i was scared. scared to disappoint you, I’m not… I’m not sure how to be in a relationship. dina was fun, easy, she didn’t care. I wanted you, I just- 'm so fucking dumb,” she rambled.  

you grimaced at her name, you had grown so spiteful of her that even the mention of her made you tense. ellie was now in your bubble, she laid her head on the pillow beside you, and sincerity filled her eyes. 

“you could’ve told me that. you know that I was your best friend ellie.” 

she flinches at her own name. “I know, I know.” she muttered as she tucked her hand behind your neck and leaned in to kiss you. her lips were pillowy and wet, better than anything you’ve ever felt. she swiped the bottom of your lip entering her tongue inside your mouth. you groan at the taste of her and her huffing as she pushes deeper into your mouth. your hands drift to her waist and you pull your leg up over her body, pulling her closer. 

your hands travel up her back into her scalp. she pulls away and pierces your pupils, she meant everything she said, you saw it. “i’m sorry lovey, i was just scared.” she added. 

you could only force out a hmm.

"please forgive me?" she says, pecking your neck slowly with staccato kisses.

her tongue swirls up the side of your neck and wraps around your lobe as she pleads, "please." desperately pushing up against you.

and for a moment you consider forgiveness.