#or not but there's certainly heat in the kitchen!!!
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Summary
Aziraphale wearing his shirt half-naked.
Crowley certainly wasn't expecting this sight when he arrived in the kitchen for breakfast.Â
But he certainly wasn't going to complain.
Notes
Just me indulging in the idea of Aziraphale putting on Crowley's shirt....
On Ao3
Rating G -Â 505 words
Attracted by the fragrance of coffee that had roused him from bed, Crowley entered the kitchen and stopped dead at the sight of Aziraphale pouring coffee into two cups with his back to her.
All he could do at that moment was stammer.Â
"A-angel? Is that... is that my shirt?"
He immediately realized that he'd asked the most idiotic question of all, because it was obviously his shirt that Aziraphale was wearing.
First, because it was black; second, because although it was a little tight around the arms, the sleeves were rolled up from being too long; and third, because it fell low on Aziraphale's thighs.
His bare thighs.
The demon swallowed and was trying to collect himself when Aziraphale turned around with two cups in his hand and handed one to Crowley with a playful little smile, âI bow to your observational skills.â
Crowley struggled to recover from his shock, for while he often wore Aziraphale's clothes, he'd never seen the reverse. And what a sight it was.
He took a sip of coffee as he continued to watch Aziraphale, the way the fabric fell in flowing folds over his thighs, accentuating them, the way the shirt parted over his chest and stomach, revealing his soft curves, the color contrasting with the tone of his skin.
The angel, who had followed his gaze, smiled again and Crowley set down his cup before approaching him slowly. With no doubt as to the demon's intentions, Aziraphale put down his cup and watched as Crowley closed the distance between them.
Once in front of him, the demon slipped his hands under Aziraphale's shirt, making him shiver, before placing them on his hips, pulling him closer with a little tug.
Aziraphale parted his lips slightly, letting out a small gasp as Crowley closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to the angel's, kissing him passionately.
When they finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, Aziraphale asked teasingly, "Am I to take it that you're enjoying this?"
Crowley chuckled and cupped Aziraphale's face, his thumb gently tracing the line of his lips, moistened slightly from the kiss.
Aziraphale shook one shoulder slightly so that the shirt opened a little more and slid off, revealing the soft, round shoulder, then asked, a playful gleam in his eyes, "More than you like seeing me naked?"
The demon licked his lips and replied, "You have no idea how much, Angel."
Seeing Crowley's heated gaze, Aziraphale gently pushed him away and began walking back toward the kitchen door, whispering, "Then come and show me."
Then he turned and let the shirt slip and fall to the floor just before he passed through the kitchen door.
That was all it took for Crowley to snap out of his trance and he almost ran as he followed the angel into the bedroom.
The coffee cups sat untouched on the kitchen table. But neither Aziraphale nor Crowley cared when, much later, their contents were long gone cold.
The coffee could wait, their love could not.
_________
Still not beta'd
Still not my native language
Still hoping you'll enjoy this story đ„°
Still thanking you for bearing with me đ
South Downs cottage series : here
Ineffable fan fictions Masterpost : here
#good omens#aziracrow#ineffable husbands#ineffable boyfriends#aziraphale#crowley#good omens fanfiction#aziraphale x crowley#crowley x aziraphale#South Downs Cottage#Domestic fluff
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The look of panic on Carol's face, coupled with a slew of profanities as she scrambles to make herself look decent causes both confusion and a questioning glance from the ambassador, her eyebrow arching ever so slightly as she watches her nearly trip over their shoes. There is nothing that Val can immediately think of that would warrant such a reaction, but then the door opens and a child's voice fills the room. "Shit," escapes her lips too, more of a hiss than anything else as she pulls the costume back on her arms and thankful that they have not gotten to the point where she's stepped out of it completely.
One step forward, curious, as she peeks through the door leading to the entryway; and sees a gorgeous woman and an adorable little girl that throws her arms around the shoulders she's just had her mouth on; the memory like heat pricking the base of her neck. Then the Mom comes, and Val might just be as good as blending into the wall; trying to ignore the unpleasant tug in her gut.
So, Carol has a daughterâ and while it seems fitting now that she sees them interact, a part of her is jealous of not having known this before. The blonde owes her nothing, after all, and for all Val knew this was just a one-off thing... but the sting of the realization coming sooner than she was comfortable with hurt nonetheless.
The other mom looks up before Val can slip back into the kitchen and they nod at each other politely; and the brunette wishes she was dressed in anything else but the dumb costume right now. And before the things could get better; they seemingly get worse, because Carol is leaving the little girl alone in the hallway; with Val on the other end of it.
Hi, the girl calls brightly, probably still happy about the praises she's just gotten about her costume and a sizeable bag of candy she's holding, so Val has no other choice but to engage. "Hi." She responds with a soft smile on her face. "I'm Val. What's your name?"
At first, she expects the girl to be wary of her, perhaps even hostile (her nieces being exactly like that towards people they didn't know), but the girl is an angel, as she tells her her name â Monica â and seems happy when Val tells her that she loves her name and her costume.
A Norwegian diplomat, Carol? comes from the outside and Val needs to take a little breath to keep the friendly face for Monica while her heart hammers in her chest. Then,
"They do that all the time. They think I don't hear, but I always do. Do you have any Reese's chocolate?" The girl continues on talking about how they are her favorite, while Val tries to control her own whiplash and take all of this information that has fallen into her lap as suddenly as her plane did; in the midst of this family's drama. Still, the girl is at no fault of her parents, so Val promises that she'd look for the Reese's with her until her moms come back in.
Monica already knows where to look, and keeps talking about her night of trick-or-treating like she's known Val for ages, and asks about her costume (You're like one of the ladies from the Viking books Mama Carol reads to me!) and Val likes how well spoken she is for someone so young; and can certainly see the parts of Carol in her, too. It makes her heart ache as they get to the living room; which she didn't even have the chance to see before... all this.
That's how Carol finds them, sitting on the floor in front of the TV, with Goose in her lap as Monica gives her different chocolates to try (What do you mean you never tried Hershey's cookies and creme?), and when Val notices her presence she looks up, a smile, albeit a little sad lights up her face.
"Hi. You okay?"
âAh, yes,â Carol acknowledged, her grin growing against warm lips that felt like everything sheâd ever wanted in life. âHow very diplomatic of you.â She couldnât help but wonder, in that moment when her skin was searing with the others touch and a flush was coating her cheeks at just how much she needed Val to touch her, what the other could do if she wasnât so worried about being courteous and the blonde knew she wanted more time with the woman than sheâd ever have on one singular night.
She wanted to insist how far past changing her mind she was, even from the moment theyâd met each otherâs gaze in the hanger bay, but being pulled against the other, without a single question for permission this time, caught her words in her throat and only the crackle of what remained of them slipped from her lips, amused and entirely approving at the new sense of friction the position gave her. The feeling of teeth gripping the skin above her bra, a pinch that rippled a sense of pleasure across every muscle in her body, caused her hips to press impossibly closer to Valâs thigh as her fingernails pressed sharply into the flesh on the back of the womanâs neck. The action caused a breathless chuckle to fall from her lips and she wasnât sure if it was a reaction of pleasure or the disbelief at how insane that day had gone. It surely couldnât get any crazier, right?
And then there was a knock on the door. Firm and insistent and clearly not the first knock that was attempted. A groan left her lips as the other pulled back and even the kiss against her cheek couldnât make up for the increase in space between them. Her mind raced to catch up and it took her a second to process what Val said. âWait â what time is it?â Her brow lifted, eyes sided just slightly as she glanced around the kitchen for some kind of clock and her eyes landed on the digital display of her microwave. Too late for trick or treaters meant trick or treating was over and that realization triggered the memory of a promise sheâd made just a few days earlier. âShit.â
Monica. Sweet little Monica, excited to show off her costume, to talk excitedly about the candy she managed to swindle the old ladies out of with her dimples⊠and Maria.
Carol stepped away and frantically started buttoning up the shirt she was still wearing. âShit, shit, shit.â Her eyes searched for the grey cardigan on the floor but gave up after not being able to immediately find it and worried about the growing bruise on her chest and making sure the buttoned shirt covered it. There was no salvaging anything else, she knew that much as she ran her hand through her mussed hair and glance back at Val apologetically, and a little regretfully, before moving out of the kitchen and into her entry way to open the door, only managing to trip on discarded shoes once on her way.
Monicaâs excited voice floated into the house immediately upon opening the door, giving Carol a good opportunity to ignore the look she knew she was getting from Maria. She wasnât going to be able to avoid the inevitable scolding forever, but she let the little girl run into her arms and squeezed her tightly around the astronaut suit she donned. âLieutenant Trouble!â She greeted softly, a tone only reserved for the girl in her arms. The return greeting of âMom!â was unavoidable and the back of her neck bristled at the feeling of Valâs gaze she knew was inevitably on her. âYou look fantastic⊠did grandma make this for you?â Carol questioned, holding Monica at armâs length as she got a good look at the costume she knew that Mariaâs mom created just for the little girl and while Monica rambled on about it, she dared a glance at Maria only to be met with the look she knew was there all along.
âHey kiddo, why donât you wait right inside for a moment while we talk, okay?â She stepped aside to guide Monica just inside the door, telling her to stay there while she stepped outside and shut the door behind her.
Maria had some choice words for her as soon as the door was shut, most muffled by the barrier between the outside and inside of the house, Carol trying her best to give a good excuse as to why she had completely forgotten about the fact that they were supposed to be stopping by that night, but completely failing at it and her explanation only provoked the other womanâs voice to raise as she questioned, âA Norwegian diplomat, Carol!?â
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I have a theory!!! When we first faint from the mushrooms in day 1 Mychael gives us the tea that makes us feel better and gets rid of the effects of mind control and in day 3 Mychael gives us the same tea to help us with the after effects of his mind control so they could both be similar or the same species because their cure is the same so their spores or whatever are the same.
(Sorry I have no idea how to verbalise what Iâm thinking đ)
Hehe, âđ
#mushroom oasis vn#mychael ask#perhaps!! you are cooking???#or not but there's certainly heat in the kitchen!!!#ykw fuck it we ball lets have a theory tag#mushroom musings#theres the tag lets go
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the shapes you use to draw are so fucking exquisite but absolutely nothing gets me like when you give yakumo the biggest soppingest most watery eyes thank you for your service. doing him justice. may his slit be just as juicy (prayge)
ïŒ!âœïŒŸïŒâœïŒŸïŒŸïŒâœïŒŸïŒ!!!âââȘâȘ every time i draw him it's "i wonder what expression i should give him here. he could be feeling happy, or mad, or unsure or-" *hand instantly sketches two giant circles and wibbly round tears* gotDAMEiot
#stretches my arm across the room and GRIPS your shoulder#hey wait bro don't mention the slit and just leave#come on. sit down. have some tea. discuss the wetness of various parts of yakumo with me.#pats the floor next to me#i for one wonder whether he has snake eczema. or does he only get like that when he sheds his skin?#do i have to mist him to keep him comfortable?#certainly can't bring him out into the desert heat of solaria at noon again. gonna have a dried worm on my hands#if he's constantly losing water thru his tears or his slit or just general evaporation (the kitchen can get hot)#does he need to constantly drink water to stay hydrated?#actually#does yakumo sweat??????#i don't think i've paid attention to that.#trabesty. and i call myself a scholar#well it just so happens i'm about to post ANOTHER thing with a crying round yakumo so it looks like we're staying on brand today#nu carnival yakumo#feesh answer
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winter weight (nanami ver)
Synopsis: nanami has gained some weight this winter, it seems you don't mind.
based on this fanfic I wrote for Toji which was based on this fanart! thank you @lil-sis for requesting more nanami :,)
ă°ă»âĄă»ă°ă°ă»âĄă»ă°ă°ă»âĄă»ă°ă°ă»âĄă»ă°ă°ă»âĄă»ă°
You had known Nanami Kento for years before you were romantically involved. He had never made an inappropriate comment, always treated you with the utmost respect, and was all-around, the truest form of a gentleman.
For a time, you locked away your feelings for the kind man, sure he could never see you in that way, but little did you know, the man in question hid from your gaze, not because he did not want to see you, but in fear that you would see him. See him for what he was: a man, obsessed.
You had been with Ken for nine months now and he was everything you could want and more. He was communicative, thoughtful, and romantic. He looked at you in a way nobody had before. Likewise, for you, those nine months passed with comfortable ease.
This was your first winter together, and with the changing of the seasons you learned day by day that the man you knew was your life partner. The both of you were homebodies in a sense, however, with the chilly air and light snowfall this week, you were even more keen on a night in together.
You raced around the house, lighting candles, simmering mulling spices on the stove, and laying out blankets for the two of you. The house felt even cozier knowing that Ken was coming to join you.
He had spent the afternoon with his parents and was coming over after having dinner, he told you to eat without him and you had just finished cleaning your plate when you received a text,
"I am on my way now, sweetheart, is there anything you would like from the store?"
Ken was like this, domestic in the way that made you want to bounce around the room. You thought for a moment before deciding you would probably need more eggs. Earlier this week the two of you had planned a movie night, the next morning you were both hoping to bake cookies together while playing board games or taking turns reading to one another.
You informed him of the need for eggs and he told you he would be just a few more minutes. During that time you scrolled through the choices of movies, picking a few for the two of you to choose from.
Despite being together longer than the gestational period for a baby human, you still received butterflies in your stomach at the thought of his arrival. Knowing he was nearly home, you bounded to the kitchen and faced the door, the room smelled delicious, the only thing missing was his presence, and perhaps another layer of clothing.
Even so, you could hear his footsteps approach and knew that the two of you would share a blanket and body heat in no time.
When the man finally opened the door he was smiling shyly, a red dusting across his face from the cold. He wore a long winter coat, and in his arms were a bouquet of flowers and a wrapped gift.
You rushed to greet him, taking the day bag from his arm,
"Oh! Ken, they're beautiful!" You stood on tiptoe as he bent his knee and you kissed his cold cheek. "Goodness, you're freezing! Come in please!"
"Hello, my love." He smiled more broadly now, wrapping his free arm around you, "This if from my parents, but they told me not to let you open it until the holidays."
A warmth ran through you, the Nanami's were all too kind. Kento set the flowers on the counter and stepped toward the coat rack by the door to retire his shoes and jacket.
In the motion it took for him to pull the sleeves off his broad shoulders, you took him in. Leaning on the kitchen counter you allowed yourself to stare at him. His dress shirt was tight on his arms, and his suit pants clung to his thighs. You took a step toward him again.
"I almost don't want you to change, you look so handsome in your work clothes."
"Well, I've certainly put on some weight. These pants hardly fit now." he looks increasingly uncomfortable, not to be in your presence but to show that he was dressed in such a tailored fashion.
"Ken, my dear, you look incredible." You contain the desire to squeeze his thigh by walking to the bedroom and bringing out a pair of sweats and a cotton shirt.
"Although you are a delight to see this way, I'll let you get comfortable." You smile and pinch his bicep.
"Thank you, dear, I don't believe I've ever been so heavy. It's all the good restaurants you introduce me to, perhaps I should get back into the gym." He had grabbed the soft clothes you picked for him and walked into the bedroom to change.
"You're the one bringing me to all those good restaurants so you can't just blame me." You smile from outside the door.
"I'm just grateful you're with me" He laughs, pulling the shirt over his head.
"Ugh!" You exclaim, "Of course, Ken, don't say something so ridiculous." He laughs but you are still caught on what he said earlier. "And don't start going to the gym, you look great, very chewable."
He pops out from behind the door and looks down at you, amused. "I'm not sure how to feel about that descriptor, but if you still like me with extra weight, then I suppose I can remain comfortable."
"Still like you?" You gasp offended, "Ken, I grow more attracted to you every day, I don't care how tight your clothes are, in fact, it's a good look."
He gives you a mischievous face, "Go sit on the couch, pick a movie, stop trying to seduce me."
You laugh, incredulous, "I'm not trying anything, I'm only speaking the truth." You shrug, bounding to the couch and crawling beneath the blanket. Ken brings two mugs of cider before joining you.
That night you lay on his chest, watching a cheesy romance, the both of you laughing at the silly main character. You tilt your head up, to watch his face, your eyes catching the beginning of a few grey hairs dispersed in his blonde hair. You gently run your hand through his undercut.
In that moment, in his arms, as comfortable as you've ever been, you are sure, he is the man you will grow old with.
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#kento nanami#jujutsu kaisen nanami#jjk nanami#jujutsu nanami#nanami kento#kento nanami x reader#kento fluff#nanami kento x reader#nanami x reader#nanami fluff#kento nanami fluff#jjk fluff#jujutsu kaisen fluff#nanami fanfic#kento nanami fanfiction#nanami x you#nanami x y/n#kento x reader#kento x y/n#kento x you#nanami kento fluff#nanamin#kento nanami x you#kento nanami x y/n#jjk comfort#jujutsu kaisen comfort
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â IN YO PU$$Y TONGUE TWISTIN' LIKE ITS STIR FRY!â
â°summary: don't ask toji to make you dinner if you aren't ready to be dinner â°tw: nasty, filthy, insane pussy eating like its groceries. literal groceries cause there's lots of food/cooking sex references lmfao. â°wc: <1k [no taglist under 1k]
Toji who you sass, telling him to be useful for once and "make you dinner." Unfortunately for you, Toji takes it quite literally as he makes you HIS dinner.
Without any warning you are manhandled down to the couch. Your brand new pink frilly panties utterly trashed, ripped off of you and discarded like a flimsy plastic wrap. Toji kneads open your doughy thighs, ordering you to hold your knees so that you are spread wide for him.
Succumbing to his more debased urges, your coochie would be his 'kitchen' for the next 2 hours. It was obvious from the perverse way his lips smacked together, sucking his teeth at the sight of your succulent cuntâhe couldn't wait to serve you up on a platter.
Digging in, Toji wastes no time with prep work.Â
Unabashedly feasting in your savory folds as if he were a gourmet who had just been presented with a 10-course 3-star michelin meal. Toji's filthy mouth proves to be such a needy glutton for your pretty pussyâslurping, suckling and nibbling at your sensitive lilâ clit until youâre sobbing. You clench and twitch around his tongue which seems to be on a mission to completely sear your insides, reducing your to legs to gelatinous goo.Â
All the heat Toji boils in your core spreads to your entire body and your hands grow slippery with sweat. You shake as you struggle to maintain hold of your knees. Yet the scalding look Toji gives you makes you think twice before you let go of themâlest chef Toji say the dish is ruined and he needs to start all over again.Â
âChef knows bestâ Toji tells you, along with his specialty cuisine style of "making it nasty", so of course he must braise your swollen throbbing clit in globs of his spit. His tongue bastes over your sopping folds as he scoops the marinated mixtureâcrafted of his saliva and the syrupy juices of your ripened cuntâback into your steamy quivering hole.Â
At the very least you were grateful that despite the embarrassment flaming on your tear-stained cheeks, the amount of carnal pleasure coursing through your body sent your mind into euphoric delirium. Your eyes spared you from the sight of Toji's shameless display of ravenous hunger by becoming lodged into the back of your skull.
Nevertheless, you didnât need to see to tell that Toji is a messy cook. Some of your rich milky sauce is sure to dribble down to the crack of your ass as his lecherous ministrations cause you to overflow. Not to worry thoughâwhen it comes to relishing your perfect pussy, Toji ultimately keeps a tidy kitchen and he is certainly not wasteful.Â
Toji will dutifully clean up any mess, unlike your actual kitchen where he never washes a dish. Likewise, although when you try to get him to eat healthier and he refuses his greensâToji will never hesitate to toss your salad. Stirring his tongue deep into your puckered hole he savors the taste while three of his thick fingers bully into your tight lilâ pussy, blending you up until you pureed all over his fingers.
The intensity of your lustful moans rival that of the vulgar sounds sloshing from your core and echoing throughout the living room. Both sounds Toji finds himself developing an insatiable hunger for and it spurs on his near relentless teasing of you.Â
Duplicitous in his positively feral pussy drunk state, he reasons with you that "a chef never reveals his secrets".
Therefore you are never certain upon reaching the peak of your next mind-mincing orgasm if he will serve you utterly delectable releaseâthe sweet nectar of your squirt garnishing his lips resulting in Toji to nearly busting in his own pants from rutting against the sofaâ
âor if he will cruelly snatch it away from you again as you teeter right on the edge of rapture. When he does this there is certainly a twinkle in his eyes as he mocks you, "but you weren't quite done simmering just yet, mamas."
Absolutely overdone and oversensitive, if the torture of him stewing your insides becomes too muchâIf you really whine and tell him you've had enoughâto his credit Toji would stop. Stop and hover mere centimeters away from your leaky lilâ peach that is.Â
You would whimper, so sore from the abuse of his tongue as his own eyes would roll back at the sugary smell of your arousal wafting off your messed up lil cunny. Toji knows at this point you are too fucked outâtoo thoroughly made well-done on his tongue to escape from his gluttonous depravity.Â
Sloppy and glazed in your cum, the scar on Toji's lip glistens as it pulls into a devious smirk. Huffing out, Toji would softly breeze air over your puffy clit until your lil nub throbbed with enough need to beg for another course.Â
Toji would oblige you of course.Â
Nonetheless, as punishment for disturbing the chef while heâs cooking, you would have to wait a bit more before you felt his mouth on you again. Only blowing over your sex, your desperate pleas are only met with cruel chuckles chiding you that he needed to "let his food cool properly" before he could eat the next serving.
In the end, Toji's hard efforts in your kitchen are rewarded as he thoroughly consumes every last morsel you have to offer, cleaning up every lingering string of your arousal. With his wanton thirst for your creamy caramelized cunt finally quenched he brings himself up to admire your cute slutted out pout.Â
You gasp as Tojiâs lips meet yours in a fiery kiss. His tongue is just chaotic, dominating your mouth as if he were still craving the taste of your core.
You're dizzy for air when Toji finally pulls away. Still coming down from your blissed out state you fail to notice Toji had switched your positions. You are now on the floor between his legs while he sits on the couch.
His beefy thighs manspread wide as his girthy length springs from his dark sweats. The angry red tip of his cockhead sways back to hit his abs thickly coated in what must be his own fluids from at some point cumming in his pants just from eating you out.
Reaching out to grab your chin his thumb rubs over your lips in a gentle caress before bullying them open. You were going to roast his cock in that warm nâ tight throaty lil oven of yours.
It was your turn to make him dinner.
Ⱐ©blkkizzat 2024. do not steal works or gfx, do not translate.
â°a/n: y'all idk im hungry, on my period and i clearly got demons. that's all the defense i got so y'all can lock me away for this now. *runs away* p.s.plug!choso lovers this is not a fic, its a drabble i promise i literally wrote this in tumblr drafts don't kill me LOL
â°reblog & comments are my life's blood. ty!
#âá°đđŸđđđ¶đÂąÏÏĐșŃ#âá°đđŸđđđ¶đÂąÏÏĐșŃâŃĐœÎ±Ń#toji fushiguro#toji smut#toji fushiguro smut#jjk x reader#toji x reader#toji x you#toji x y/n#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jjk x you#jjk smut#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen fanfiction#toji fushiguro x y/n#toji fushiguro x you#jjk x black reader#toji fushiguro x reader#jujutsu toji#toji fushiguro x black reader#daddy toji#toji x black reader#toji x fem reader
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Honey love, dark eyes
⥠Chapter one âĄ
Summary: Joel Miller has been your best friend for four years, and your trust in him is as solid as ever. However, things go awry one night after a heated argument, and you find yourself in a position you never thought you'd be in: naked, underneath him, with his eyes devouring you like there's no tomorrow. And when you wake up the next morning, you know it right away, reality piercing your chest; things will never be the same again.
Word count: 9.4K
A/N: Okay, I was planning for the first chapter to be 4K words MAX, but my imagination went crazy with this lol I really hope you like it. I really enjoyed writing this <3 warning: ANGST! don't forget to leave feedback, tell me what you think!
If you want to be on the tag list, let me know too.
You met him on the night of your twenty-second birthday, at the small party Cassie had put together for you in her dimly lit apartment. You hadnât wanted much of a celebration, nothing bigger than a few close friends, and certainly not a group of strangers. But when Brianna swept in, holding hands with a man you didnât know, and introduced him as her boyfriend, you felt a vague flicker of annoyance, the kind that accompanies unmet expectations.
"I thought it was just going to be us," you mumbled to Cassie, catching her in the kitchen as she poured herself another glass of wine.
She looked at you, her cheeks already flushed, eyes bright. "They're a few of my friends, too; theyâre niceâyouâll like them if you give it a chance." She smiled, urging you to relax, as though she could tease you out of your mood. "Itâs your birthday; donât be so sullen."
"I didnât know Brianna was bringing her boyfriend," you said quietly, as Cassie started back to the living room.
She paused, giving you a half-smile over her shoulder. "Neither did I, actually," she admitted, lowering her voice. "Apparently, they've been together for about a month. Sheâs really into him."
And she was. Brianna clung to him all night, her laughter spilling out freely, unrestrained and buoyant from the wine. It wasnât long before someone suggested karaoke, and as voices rang out in the next room, you slipped quietly back into the kitchen, craving a moment of solitude. You were surprised to find Briannaâs boyfriend there, leaning against the counter, scrolling absently through his phone with a glass of water in hand.
He looked up, straightened, and offered you a tentative smile. âOh, hi. Happy birthday,â he said, his voice warm but reserved. âSorry, I didnât get a chance to say it earlierâŠâ
âNo worries,â you replied, your tone reassuring. âThanks.â
He hesitated, as though weighing what to say next. âAre you having a good time?â
You gave a slight shrug. âItâsâŠâ but before you could finish, he cut in with a knowing smile.
âItâs okay. I donât love my birthday either.â His eyes glinted in the soft kitchen light, and you felt a small smile tugging at your own lips.
You looked at him then, really looked at him, allowing yourself the indulgence. âI didnât want to admit it,â you said, feeling the faintest hint of heat rising to your cheeks. âWhat was your name again?â
âJoel,â he answered, his gaze drifting briefly back to his phone. âSorry, Iâm a little on edge tonight. Left my daughter with a new babysitter. I think sheâs having a rough time.â
Your eyebrows rose in mild surprise; you hadnât pegged him as a dad. You moved closer, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice and asked, âHow old is she?â
âFour. Her nameâs Sarah.â He ran a hand through his hair, and you could tell he was tense. âItâs only the second time sheâs been with this sitter, and apparently, sheâs been crying all evening.â
âOh, poor thing,â you murmured sympathetically. âSheâs little. Changes like that must be hard on her.â
He sighed, his gaze drifting to the side as he typed something quickly on his phone. âI should probably get going. Brianna wonât love that idea; weâd planned to stay outâŠâ He paused, eyes flicking up to meet yours, worry etched across his face. âYou think sheâll be too mad?â
âNo,â you assured him, though you knew Brianna wouldnât be pleased. âGo be with your daughter. Sheâs little; she needs you. Brianna will understand.â
A grateful smile spread across Joelâs face, and for the first time, you noticed the faint dimple on his cheek. For a fleeting second, you wanted to reach out, trace it with your thumb.
âThanks,â he murmured, his eyes lingering on you in a way that felt unintentional, yet steady. âI hope your night gets better once karaoke is over,â he added with a quiet laugh. "Wish me luck."
You chuckled, meeting his gaze. âGood luck, Joel.â
He left with that same soft smile, and you watched him go, his warm brown eyes leaving an odd impression, like an unclaimed memory. And, as expected, Brianna didnât understand. She spent the rest of the night sulking, casting sharp words at Joel through her bitterness.
âYou knew he had a daughter when you got with him, this was bound to happen at some point,â Cassie told her, fed up with the other's complaints.
You didn't hear the answer, as you were distracted by watching the colorful pictures someone had put on the television.
You heard nothing more from Joel for a couple of weeks, until Cassie blurted out the gossip one morning while you were having lunch at her house.
âHe broke up with her,â she began to tell you. âHe told her she wasn't being empathetic and that he couldn't drop everything to party with her as if they had no responsibilities.â
It was no surprise. Brianna was a woman who lived at night; she was twenty-three years old and enjoyed it with the freedom that was rightfully hers. You couldn't blame her for wanting to have fun with her boyfriend. But Joel lived a very different reality than she did; at twenty-eight, he had a daughter to take care of, routines to follow, and a lot of work to do.
Although you thought it would take her longer to get over him, it wasn't long before she met a guy at her gym and got into it with him, outgrowing Joel in a matter of days. But for some reason, Joelâs warm, steady gaze stayed with you, like a whisper that hadnât fully faded.
Years passed quietly, slipping through your fingers like sand until, suddenly, it was your twenty-sixth birthday. This time, the scene was different: youâd moved into your own place just two days earlier, and there was little thought of celebrating. Instead, the weekend found you alone, arranging your things and attempting to bring order to the chaos of a new home.
It was a crisp Saturday morning, and you stood in your front yard with a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice in hand, humming along to some eighties tune drifting in from the living room. The songâone of those upbeat ones that made even housework feel lightâhad lifted your spirits, and you moved rhythmically as you pushed plastic flowers into the dirt along the front path, sending little puffs of air to make the petals flutter.
You were lost in your task when you heard soft footsteps behind you, instinctively making you turn.
âOh, hello,â you said, quickly masking the slight surprise the girlâs sudden appearance had given you.
She looked at you with wide, curious eyes, seemingly unfazed by her solo adventure.
âHi. Whatâs your name? Do you live here?â she asked, her gaze shifting from your face to the flowers in your hands.
Glancing around for any sign of her parents, you noted her relaxed stance, like sheâd been coming here all her life. Smiling, you nodded and gave her your name. âYep, I just moved in.â
She looked unimpressed. âThis house was empty for a while. I didnât like the kid who lived here before. He was a pain in the assââ
âSarah!â came a sharp voice from behind, making you jump slightly. Heavy footsteps approached, and you squinted against the sun to see a figure striding toward you, his features obscured by the bright morning light.
When he stepped closer, his face came into focus, and your breath caught. You knew him.
âSarah, you canât just leave the house like that,â he said sternly, a furrow in his brow, his tone more parental than reproachful.
He turned to you, and the scowl softened as recognition dawned.
âJoel,â you murmured, the name slipping out before you even meant to say it aloud.
His expression shifted into a surprised smile, and that was all it took to break the ice between you. You explained that youâd just moved in and were still settling. Joel offered to help with anything you needed, including taking a look around the house to ensure everything was in order. He formally introduced you to Sarah, now eight years old, who had nearly scared him to death by sneaking out. She had his same lively spark in her eyes, a brightness that seemed familiar.
That evening, Sarah invited you to dinner with them, leaving Joel with little choice but to agree. And one dinner became many, as evenings blurred into weekends, and you found Joelâs presence in your life weaving into something inseparable from your routine. He started popping by to help with small projects, fixing kitchen cabinets or adjusting the wobbly front steps, visits stretching into movie marathons or lazy conversations with cold beer in hand. Days flowed into evenings of chatting over the meals you cooked to share with Sarah, and sometimes her uncle Tommy. Though Joel claimed he was no cook, his barbecues were legendary, and you couldnât deny you looked forward to them most of all. And soon enough, he was there for everything, from driving you to doctorâs appointments to accompanying you on those grocery runs he pretended to hate. He even started showing up early on days he knew youâd need a ride. Over time, he became the best friend youâd ever had, a safe place, someone who felt like family. With everyone else scatteredâCassie overseas, old friends moved awayâJoel became your rock.
It wasnât something you dared to admit to yourself often, but you couldnât imagine your life without him. And maybe thatâs why you never allowed yourself to voice those little fleeting thoughts, the ones that flitted through your mind every now and then: how safe you felt whenever he threw his arm around your shoulders, or how good he looked reclining on his couch after a long day. Or how perfect it felt when the three of youâSarah dozing on his lap, you leaning into his shoulderâsat together in the warm silence of a Sunday afternoon. There was an ache, too, a quiet pang whenever he mentioned another woman. Thankfully, that was rare; Joel once told you, with a shrug, that he âwasnât really looking for that sort of thing.â
Sometimes, you watched him carefully as you talked about your own dates, hoping to catch a glimmer of jealousy in his gaze, some subtle cue that maybe he felt the same way. But there was never anything you wanted to see, and you always felt silly for looking. So, you buried it all. The risk of ruining things with Joel wasnât worth the confession.
One afternoon, however, your emotions almost escaped your eyes when, while preparing Joel's birthday cake, Sarah dropped a piece of news that caught you off guard. She told you, with her usual nonchalance, that Joel had gone out the night before with someone new.
âYeah, itâs like⊠the third time theyâve gone out,â Sarah mentioned while spreading cream on the sponge cake. âI donât know her name or anything, just that he met her in line at the bank,â a laugh choked in her throat, amused at imagining her father flirting with some woman in a public space.
You forced a smile, laughing along like it was funny.
"And who stayed with you last night?â you asked, trying to keep your tone casual.
Not that Sarah was necessarily a baby; she was already twelve and extremely independent. But Joel never left her alone if he went out for the night, he knew how much she loved spending time with you watching movies and eating junk food. Then, when he arrived, you would pester him with gossipy questions and he would pretend to get angry and then answer every one of them.
âUncle Tommy," she said, eyeing her work with satisfaction. âWe had fun, but I kinda wished youâd come too. Hey, what do you think?â she fingered the cream neatly arranged with the angled knife.
âIt's perfect,â you smiled at her, not waiting too long to ask the question you wanted so badly. âWhy didn't you call me then?â
Sarah started sprinkling colorful sprinkles on top of the cream and looked at you for a second when she noticed the tone in your voice at the last word. She didn't seem to think much of it.
âYou were busy, weren't you? Dad said you had something to do.â
Her answer hit you like a small weight to the chest. Joel had purposefully left you out. Heâd even made an excuse for Sarahâs benefit. So, there had been three datesâthree times heâd kept this woman a secret. A small knot formed in your stomach as you forced yourself to smile, still watching Sarah as she concentrated on the last of the sprinkles.
In the kitchen, you were running your hand through the steam from the beef stew on the stoveâJoelâs favoriteâwhen the door opened. His footsteps grew louder, approaching, and you nervously adjusted the dress youâd chosen, one you knew he liked, though heâd never said it. It was your favorite too, a cream-colored sundress with delicate shoulder ties.
Sarah sprang forward, covering his eyes. âDonât look, the tableâs not ready.â
You hurried to set the glasses in their places, your hands a little shaky as you moved, hoping he wouldnât notice the flush creeping up your cheeks.
âI donât need to see itâI can smell it, and it smells incredible,â Joel grinned beneath Sarahâs tiny hands, which sheâd plastered over his eyes, half to keep him from sneaking a glance, half just because she could.
âToo bad you donât smell incredible,â Sarah retorted with a smirk, wrinkling her nose. "Go take a shower!"
You laughed, catching Joelâs raised brow at her.
âYouâve got five minutes,â you said, placing the lid on the simmering pot.
Joel snorted, brushing Sarahâs hands away from his face.
âThatâs the smell of a hardworking man,â he replied, feigning offense as he turned for the stairs. âYâall oughtta know.â
*
Later, the three of you sat around the table, and Joel took his first bite of the stew, eyes widening, a kind of bliss washing over his face. He tossed his head back and groaned.
âSweet Glory,â he mumbled, closing his eyes. âThank you for this.â
âOh, come on,â you teased, though part of you couldnât help but feel a pang of something between irritation and flattery. âYou say that every time I cook for you.â
He shook his head, smiling as he chewed, then spoke softly, his gaze slipping downward.
âIâm not exaggeratingâI love everything you do.â A pause, and then a quick, awkward clarification. âI mean, everything you cook.â
The clarification was like a line drawn in the sand, a boundary etched by his voice alone.
You smiled weakly and inwardly thankful when Sarah spoke, telling you about something that had happened at her school that week and distracting you from the question that was spellbinding your tongue. You were dying to ask it, to look him in the eye and ask: who did you go out with last night? Why didn't you tell me? Is it someone I know? Is that it?... But you didn't, you stayed quiet and participated in the pleasant conversation, celebrating his birthday as he deserved. After all, no matter how much it angered you that he kept things from you, it was still his special day.
After dinner, Sarah forced Joel to sit in front of his cake, two lit number candles glowing in front of him. You turned out the lights, watching as the light from the flames reflected beautifully in your best friend's dark pupils.
Joel was wearing a black T-shirt and dark jeans, his hair was still barely damp from the shower he'd taken before, and his sun-kissed tan face looked smooth, decorated by the beard and mustache you loved so much. Behind him, his shadow vibrated and spread across the wall with grandeur.
âMake a wish!â Sarah cheered, bouncing with excitement as she placed her small hands on his shoulders.
Joel smiled, closed his eyes, and blew out the candles. In the dimness, you leaned in and kissed his cheek softly.
âHappy birthday, old man,â you whispered, your hand resting gently on his neck.
He reached for your hand, pressing a warm, lingering kiss into your palm. âIâm not that old,â he muttered with a mock frown.
Sarah giggled, holding a knife to cut the cake and licking a dab of frosting from her thumb. âYouâll be forty in four years,â she teased, catching your amused expression.
Joel scoffed, scratching his stomach as he stood back up, turning to you with a smile that made you forget, just for a moment, all the questions you were holding back. There was only Joel, his rumbling laugh, Sarahâs delighted giggles. It felt like home.
Sarah gave him his gift first: a copy of Curtis and Viper 2 with the deleted scenes and a mystery box. When he opened it, a smile formed on his lips.
He pulled out a weathered wristwatch, broken for months, now polished and repaired.
âI took it in to be fixed. Do you like it?â Sarah asked, eyes wide with anticipation.
Joel nodded, eyes softening as he extended his wrist for her to put it on. âItâs perfect, baby.â
âLet's watch the movie later,â Sarah said. âYou can't fall asleep.â
âLet's see which one of us falls asleep first,â you joked, and you were right. Joel had been working all afternoon and Sarah had been yawning for hours.
You turned and picked up the box resting beside your feet, handing it to him. When he opened it, Joel pulled out a black cloth garment and a paper envelope. He tugged at the cloth, revealing a thick, soft jacket. He read the label and a smile appeared on his lips.
âI saw it and thought of you,â you said, mimicking his gesture.
âHow much did you pay for this?â
âDon't worry about it, it had to be yours,â you noted as you stood up and took it from his hand. âHere, stand up. Let's see how it fits you.â
âAnd what if it doesn't fit? Do we have to travel to Rome to exchange it?â
You laughed, then helped him slide it over his shoulders, a comfortable, familiar movement.
âI know you by heart, I couldn't be wrong.â
âSo?â he asked, smiling coquettishly. Your stomach tingled and you decided to ignore it.
âLookinâ good, Dad,â Sarah chimed in, her innocent smile lighting up the moment. âBet someone special will love it, too.â
Joel smiled weakly, as if he was trying to tell her something with his eyes, and for a second you hated the thought ofïżœïżœyour gift being enjoyed by someone else. You imagined him getting ready to go out with her -whoever she was-, running his hand through his hair and perfuming his neck as he did from time to time whenever he went out with someone. You knew that perfume perfectly, you'd recognize it anywhere, though you were sure it wouldn't smell the same on anyone else. Joel added his own scent to it, and you loved it.
âOkay, now, open the envelope,â you urged, your voice unintentionally sharper than you meant.
Joel sat back down and opened the blue paper envelope. He read the note carefully and when he looked up, you and Sarah were looking at him excitedly.
âSunshine, did you pay for this?â he asked you, a soft disbelief in his tone.
Inside were three plane tickets. Sarah had helped you pick the destinationâsomewhere none of you had been but would love.
When you nodded, he let out a soft sigh. âLet me cover part of it.â
You groaned, rolling your eyes. âItâs my birthday gift to you, Joel. Itâs all settled. You need a vacation, and we certainly do too, don't we?â
âThat's right,â Sarah confirmed, smiling complicitly.
He sighed, shaking his head. âYouâre too good to me.â
But he smiled, tucking the tickets back into the envelope.
Time with Joel and Sarah was easy. When you were with them, hours slipped away, and the heaviness of everything else seemed to dissolve. You felt at home, and sometimes it left you wondering about Sarahâs mother, about how anyone could have left them. Didnât she see how extraordinary they were? Didnât she realize what sheâd lost?
You thought about this as you relaxed on the couch beside Joel, Sarah curled up with her head on your shoulder. Her breathing had slowed, and you smiled, realizing sheâd fallen asleep. Three glasses sat on the coffee table: the wine Joel had opened just before dinnerâa bottle youâd brought back from your last trip to Italyâand Sarahâs lemon soda. Joel snorted softly, glancing at his daughter with a smirk, then leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
âFallen soldier,â he whispered, smiling.
You laughed, brushing a hand over Sarahâs hair. âSheâs tired. She was up all afternoon making your cake, you know? Tried the cream three times before she got it right.â
Joel sighed, an apologetic note in his voice. âI know, sorry I was late. I know she wanted me here sooner.â
Curtis and Viper 2Â was halfway through on the TV, forgotten in the background. Joel straightened, signaling heâd take Sarah to bed, and you shifted to make room as he lifted her, carrying her toward the stairs. You watched him disappear down the hallway, and as the house fell into a quiet lull, that familiar disappointment stirred in your chest. Now, without Sarahâs chatter, youâd have to keep pretending that nothing was wrong.
You took a long sip of your wine, finishing off the glass just as Joel returned. He sat down heavily beside you, causing the cushions to sink as he let out a sigh, rubbing a hand over his eyes before giving you a grateful look.
âThanks for today, I had a great time. Sarah was very happy,â he said quietly, a warm smile appearing on his lips.
âI'm glad, hun. Although the credit goes to her, I just made dinner.â
âDoesnât matter. You helped her, and Iâm grateful. I mean that. For today, and for⊠all these years.â His voice softened, almost reverent.
âYou donât have to thank me,â you whispered, feeling your pulse pick up as he leaned closer, his brown eyes unreadable but soft. âYouâre my family, both of you. Really, Iâm the one who owes you thanks.â
He shook his head and leaned back, taking another sip of his wine.
âNot at all,â he replied, leaning back again.
You watched him for a moment, turning the weight of your question over in your mind. If you said something, heâd make an excuse. If you kept silent, the doubt would eat at you. You tried to fix your gaze on the TV, on anything other than his profile in the dim room. But the words slipped out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.
âSo, what did you do last night?â
He tensed beside you, so subtly that only you couldâve noticed. âWhat?â
You tried to keep your tone even, hoping you didnât sound like youâd spent all day thinking about it. âI just⊠didnât see your truck out there, thought maybe you were gone or something.â It was a lie; you had fallen asleep on your couch last night, you hadn't even noticed Joel was gone.
Joel seemed to measure his words carefully. âOh. Yeah⊠I just went out for a beer with Tommy,â he answered, his tone a little too casual.
Heat crept up your face, disbelief taking root. He really was holding out on you for some reason, wasn't he? The man was lying to you, and not very cleverly. Tommy had been with Sarah, what if you had seen him, hadn't he thought of that? Apparently not.Â
It took a moment before you could bring yourself to say anything, watching as he glanced at you with an uneasy smile, waiting for you to believe him.
âJoel,â you murmured, not quite able to keep the accusation out of your voice. âYouâre lying to me.â
He gave a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, but you didnât let him off so easily. Before he could say anything, you spoke again.
âTommy was with Sarah last night, here,â you pointed out, your voice firmer this time. His silence told you everything, his face drawn and uncertain as he realized youâd caught him.
After a long pause, he looked down, his voice unusually flat. âAlright, yeah. I know.â
The admission was so casual it took you by surprise, but you shook your head, feeling the ache of frustration and betrayal creep in.
âWhy would you lie to me?â you pressed. âWeâre friends. Why wouldnât you tell me youâre seeing someone?â
Joel sighed, avoiding your gaze, his eyes instead locked somewhere in the distance. âItâs⊠itâs nothing serious,â he mumbled. âJust getting to know her. Don't make such a fuss out of it.â
âWhat? what you're saying doesn't make sense. Youâve kept it hidden, avoided every chance to be honest about it. Why?â you asked, trying not to let the hurt seep into your voice.
âItâs not like that,â he insisted, but his voice sounded unsure.
âSo if I call Tommy right now, heâll tell me the truth? Or did you ask him to keep this from me too?â
Finally, he met your gaze, his eyes scanning your face, reading the frustration and hurt youâd tried to keep buried. You could see it in his eyes, that familiar tug of defiance, a flash of something deeper than guilt or secrecy.
âWhat if I did?â His voice was almost philosophical, his gaze intense and challenging. âThis is my private life. I donât have to explain myself to anyone, not even you. Do I?â
You drew in a sharp breath. His words struck like a slap, but you steadied yourself. âYouâre right, Joel. You donât owe me explanations. But you donât have to lie to me, either.â You looked down, feeling your voice start to waver. âYouâve never hidden your relationships from me before.â
He sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face and slumping back against the couch.
After a few seconds, he finally looked at you, a look of exasperation crossing his face.
âBecause of this.â He gestured between you, his tone gentle but firm. âThis reaction, right here, is exactly why I didnât tell you.â
What Joel was saying didnât make sense. Your frustration wasnât over him seeing someone else; it was something else entirely, something more fundamental.
âOh, just stop,â you snapped, voice sharp. âIâm not mad because youâre dating someone, Joel. Iâm mad that you lied to me. Theyâre two completely different things.â
He took a breath, settling back on the couch, and turned to face you, a guarded expression crossing his face. âNo, itâs always the same thing. Remember the last time I was seeing someone?â
And you did, briefly. A year ago, one of his friends had introduced him to his cousinâa woman who had just moved to town. She was polite enough, but her smiles had a brittle quality to them, and when she met Sarah, her warmth never extended beyond a single, dismissive greeting. The indifference was obvious, at least to you, and maybe youâd let that show a little too openly. Joel had caught on quickly, and after that, things with her fizzled out.
âThat was different,â you argued, exasperated. âShe wasnât nice, Joel. She had zero interest in Sarah.â
He gave a bitter, half-smile. âMaybe, but it wasnât your job to manage that. I can handle my own relationships. But you alwaysââ he paused, thumping his chest with a finger, âyou always step in. Always get defensive.â
âThatâs not true!â Your voice rose as anger crept in, heating your face. âYouâre just making excuses. Date whoever you want, Joel, I donât care. But donât lie to me, donât insult me with these flimsy excuses. Or if youâre going to lie, at least make it convincing.â
He clenched his jaw, his gaze hardening, something fierce sparking in his eyes. âAre you sure about that?â he asked, his voice low and measured, the words hanging between you like a dare.
âSure about what?â Your brow creased in confusion, the pulse in your chest picking up, a flurry of anger and⊠something else you couldnât place, mingling with the haze of the wine.
His eyes narrowed, holding yours, unflinching. âThat you donât care. Thatâs what this is about, isnât it? Because I know you, i know you to well to know youâre just jealous.â
Jealous. He thought you were jealous.
He had missed the point completely. Your feelings for him were complex, that much was true. But you had learned, or thought you had learned, to carry them quietly. Your friendship with him had come to feel like a sturdy house you could live inside without having to ask too much of it. Having him in your life was enough.
But now, you felt that house shift, cracks spreading through the walls. His inability to trust you hurt more deeply than youâd expected. The openness youâd once trusted was fracturing. You felt the sting of tears prick at your eyes, the words heâd thrown out so casually cutting to the quick.
âFuck you, Joel,â you muttered, standing abruptly, storming to the door and slamming it shut behind you. You barely heard him call your name as you left, fury driving you down the front steps, the cool night air biting at your cheeks.
Honestly, he could go fuck himself.
Just as your hand reached your front door, his footsteps closed in behind you, his strides fast enough to catch up. You tried to close the door before he could reach you, but his hand caught it just in time, his voice heavy with irritation.
âJust go away, Joel,â you said, barely glancing at him. âI donât want to see you again.â
âThatâs not true, and you know it.â His voice was calm, almost pleading.
You stepped back, reluctantly letting him into the foyer. Heâd have come in anyway.
âI mean it, God. Go home,â you insisted, your voice wavering, betraying the anger mixed with something else.
He shook his head, taking a few steps closer, his jaw tight. âCan we just talk?â
âTalk?â you repeated incredulously. âTalk about what? About how wrong you are?â
He didnât flinch, but his eyes darkened. âDonât act like what I said was crazy,â he said, voice steady but a little sharper now.
You scoffed, throwing your hands up. âOh, so now Iâm jealous, is that it? Then, by your logic, you mustâve been jealous too, right? Like last month, when Travis asked me out. Because if thatâs the case, then weâre having the same conversation, arenât we?â
Joel clicked his tongue, tilting his head with an exaggerated sigh. âNo, Travis is just a jerk. And I donât like him, plain and simple.â
Travis Dunn, your neighbor, had moved in a few months after you did. Handsome, tall, and friendly, everyone on the street adored himâeveryone except Joel. He couldnât seem to stand him, though Travis was always polite to him.
Last month, when Travis had asked you out, Joel had practically laughed in your face when you told him about it, muttering something dismissive as if the very idea was absurd. Youâd told Travis you were busy, though deep down you knew the real reason you hadnât accepted was because of Joelâs disapproval.
You shook your head, exasperated. âTravis isnât a jerk, Joel, you just donât like him. Heâs nice, honestly, much nicer than some people, if weâre being honest here. Everyone loves him; youâre the only one who has a problem with him.â
âThen everyoneâs as much of an idiot as he is, sunshine.â
âOh, really? Or maybe⊠youâre jealous of him?â Your tone was teasing, but you felt the shift as soon as you said it.
Joelâs mouth twitched in a half-smile, but the humor didnât reach his eyes. He ran his tongue over his lips, shaking his head slowly, twice.
âDonât turn this on me,â he said. âThis isnât about Travis or me.â
âNo?â you shot back, voice edged with challenge. âSo if I go tomorrow and say yes to him, that wouldnât bother you at all, right?â
He stepped closer to you, his eyes dark with something youâd never seen in him before. The air seemed to thicken, his presence so intense it felt as though it wrapped around you. He leaned in, his face close enough that his words brushed your skin.
âYou can do whatever you want, baby. Itâs your fucking life.â
âAnd you can do whatever you want too, Joel. Thatâs the fucking point!â you nearly shouted, hands pushing against his shoulders, shoving him away. âI donât care what you do! Itâs already clear you donât get it, you donât get anything, ANYTHING!â
Joel staggered back for a split second, but it wasnât long before he closed the distance again, though he didnât get as close this time.
His voice was lower, a thread of something hard in his tone. âIf youâre so insulted by the idea of being jealous, maybe thatâs something for you to think about. Ever thought of doing a little introspection?â
âAre you drunk, Joel?â you asked, eyes narrowed, softening your voice a fraction. The argument was exhausting you, and the anger left you feeling hollow.
He laughed, an odd, choked sound. âOh, c'mon, you know one bottle of wine ain't enough to get me drunk.â
âYeah, but youâre tired, and youâre not exactly young, Joel,â you said, brushing past him, his gaze glued to you the entire time. âAlcohol hits you differently now. Just go home, leave me alone.â
âFine. Iâll leave you alone, and maybe then you can run across the street and fuck Travis Dunn, if you want it so badly,â he shot back, impatience tinging his voice as he turned toward the still-open door.
The words hit you like a slap. You froze for a moment, the anger washing over you in a wave. Before you could think twice, you rushed up to him, gripping his arm tightly to force him to turn and look at you.
âWhat the hell did you just say, Joel?â you hissed, grabbing his shirt, fingers bunching in the fabric as you backed him up until his shoulders hit the wall by the door. âGo on, say it again!â
Your breaths came fast, chest rising and falling as the rush of anger pushed tears to your eyes. You couldnât believe heâd actually spoken to you like that, cutting right through to something raw and vulnerable. Heâd never spoken to you like that before. Maybe he was a little drunk, or maybe he was losing his mind.
But there was no softness in his gaze, no hint of the Joel you knew. His stare was sharp, almost wild with something simmering underneath, something you didnât understand. To you, this whole argument made no sense, at least not his reaction.
Joelâs grip on your wrist was firm, almost grounding, as he pulled you closer, pressing your palm against his chest. âI canât stand that asshole, but go ahead and fuck him if you want,â he spat, voice laced with frustration. âGo fuck the whole neighborhood while youâre at it. I really donât care anymore.â
His words were harsh, designed to cut, but they only drew a laugh from youâsharp and derisive. A tear slipped down your cheek, uninvited.
âWhat, did you ever care?â you asked, your voice trembling on the last syllable, thick with emotion.
But Joel didnât respond, and the silence ignited a fire in you, something that swirled beneath the surface, ready to boil over.
âDo you know why weâre friends, Joel?â Your pulse quickened, each beat like a drum in your ears. âBecause it just works between us. There are no ulterior motives. You know why? Because I donât like you like that. Youâre not even my type, and you never will be. And no, Iâm not jealous that youâre dating some woman youâll probably dump in less than a month, so get the fuck over it and leave me the fuck alone!â
You watched as his gaze flickered between your eyes, uncertainty warring with something darker. Suddenly, with an unexpected strength, Joel tightened his grip on your wrist and pushed you back hard against the wall. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, leaving you gasping as your back hit the unforgiving surface.
His expression had transformed, those deep, dark eyes piercing you like arrows. His breath quickened, crashing against your face, and you could feel your lower lip tremble as he pressed even closer, pinning you against the wall.
âYou donât know how to lie,â he murmured, his lips almost brushing against your cheek.
The sensation was unbearable; his body pressed against yours, heat radiating off him and melting you inside. You could feel the edge of something primal, something that could tip either way. But suddenly, clarity surged through you. With a burst of strength, you pushed him away, breaking free from his grasp, forcing him to pull back just enough for you to gasp for air.
But the distance felt worse. In his eyes, you recognized something youâd never seen beforeâdesire, raw and unfiltered. It clawed at you, igniting an inexplicable need. A sigh escaped your lips, and like a match struck in a dark room, it was enough to set off an explosion. In an instant, Joel lunged at you, and you found yourself wrapped around him, mouths colliding in a desperate kiss filled with moans and the urgency of your racing hearts.
With a loud thud, Joel kicked the front door shut, his hands moving feverishly down your body, fingers skimming your thighs, slipping beneath your dress. He caressed your skin before squeezing your ass hard, drawing a moan from your lips that echoed in the small space between you. You clung to him tighter, his hands fitting around you as if they were made for this very moment.
He pulled back for a breath, the sound wet and chaotic against the walls of your home, and then his lips descended down your neck, unraveling what little sanity you had left. A moan rumbled in his throat as your hands tangled in his hair, tugging gently to tilt your head back, giving him better access to the tender spot just below your ear, your blood pulsing beneath his hungry mouth.
Joel seemed to want to devour you whole; his hands roamed erratically, trembling as his mouth kissed and bit your jaw, pressing your bodies together in a way that felt impossibly intimate. When you lifted your right leg and wrapped it around his side, he was quick to respond, hands securing your thighs, lifting you effortlessly onto his hips, burying his face against your chest.
Another moan escaped you, and he pulled you down just enough to find your lips again. âJoel,â you whispered, breathless as you parted from him, pressing your forehead against his, eyes searching his.
âTell me to stop and I will,â he said, his voice low, almost broken, each word laced with a vulnerability youâd never heard from him before. âDo you want me to stop?â
âNo,â you replied in a small, desperate cry, feeling the heat radiating from him, the thin fabric of your underwear igniting a fire deep within you.
You were dying of thirst, and he had just asked you if you would refuse a sip of water. Was he mad? You wanted to drink it all.Â
No sooner had you answered than Joel pulled you off the wall, striding toward the stairs with a confident grace. You lowered your legs cautiously, meeting his lips again in a frantic, wet kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with urgency.
You walked to your room with the agility of one who knows where to step, and once inside, you grabbed the shirt you had angrily grabbed earlier and lifted it up his body in a desperate attempt to rip it off. Joel raised his arms, letting the fabric pass over both of you and then fall to the floor, and as quickly as your hands returned to his chest, he kissed your neck again, desperate, pressing his fingers into the tender flesh of your waist, seeking a physically impossible closeness.Â
His hands found your thighs once more, fingers gripping and kneading with a measured intensity that sent electric shivers through you. As he moved lower, his fingertips brushed the thin fabric of your underwear, inching closer to where you ached for him, squeezing you tighter as if to draw you in.
In a single, decisive motion, he grasped the hem of your dress and pulled it upward, the fabric sliding along your skin as he lifted it away, tossing it aside with a casual disregard that only heightened the tension in the air. He took a step back, his gaze roaming over you, from the soft curve of your face down to the tips of your toes, a look of hunger that felt almost consuming.
You weren't wearing a bra (your dress didn't require it) and your breasts fell beautifully in front of him, hard nipples and soft skin. Your chest flushed with warmth, a rosy hue creeping into your cheeks as you swallowed hard, feeling vulnerable yet exhilarated when he stepped closer.
âIâve always loved that dress,â he said, his voice trembling with an emotion that was both reverent and raw.
âI know,â you replied, a smile curling at the corners of your lips, the moment igniting an intimacy that made your heart race.
His eyes swept down your body again, glittering with an unmistakable lust, and when he closed the distance, standing right before you, your breath caught in your throat.
His hands slid around your waist, firm yet tender, pulling you into him with a deftness that sent a thrill coursing through you. In one seamless motion, he lifted you off the ground, your feet barely grazing the floor as you instinctively stood on your tiptoes, the world narrowing to just the two of you.
Joelâs eyes darkened with a hunger that left you breathless, and he leaned in, his lips finding one of your breasts with a soft kiss that felt both electrifying and reverent. The warmth of his mouth sent a rush of heat through your body, and before you could gather your thoughts, he nipped your nipple gently, a teasing bite that sent chills racing across your skin.
His teeth grazed you just enough to elicit a gasp, a shuddering reaction that echoed in the space between you. But he didnât linger on the sharpness of that moment; he quickly replaced the sensation with the soothing warmth of his lips, enveloping you entirely.
He sank to one knee, lowering himself until his lips brushed your stomach, the warm sensation sending ripples of desire coursing through you. His face lingered dangerously close to where you needed him most.
Joel placed his hands on your hips, fingers gripping the elastic of your underwear, his gaze locking onto yours for a moment that stretched into eternity before he slowly began to lower it, the fabric sliding down your legs and pooling at your feet. You felt his breath hitch at the sight of your now bare center, the anticipation thickening the air between you as he inched closer, finally brushing his lips against your mons pubis.
âPrecious,â he murmured, and the warmth of his breath washed over you like a caress, drawing a small, needy moan from your lips. His hands parted your legs slightly, his fingers digging into your thighs, holding you firmly in place.
You cupped his face gently, as if afraid you might break him, and then, without warning, Joel licked his lips and plunged forward, his mouth connecting with you in a surprise that made your eyes flutter shut. You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging him closer as he devoured you, his tongue working its magic as he sucked and kissed you whole, with an urgency that left you breathless.
He growled into you, the sound reverberating through your body, and you felt weakness seep into your legs, trembling under the weight of his relentless attention. Joel was eating you like a hungry man, tasting you and soaking in your juices with a fervor that felt primal, kissing you as if his life depended on it.
âFuck,â you gasped, feeling every muscle in your body tighten as a building pressure coiled inside you.
He pulled away for just a moment, his eyes darkened with lust, a playful smile creeping onto his lips before he returned to you, closing his mouth around your clit, sucking and licking with a skill that made your head spin.
âAhâJoel, Iâm going toâIâm going toââ You struggled to articulate the intensity of what was building within you, your words stumbling over the tide of pleasure washing over you.
His voice vibrated through you, trailing off into a soft, âMhm.â
You pulled at his hair, tugging harder as a wrenching moan escaped your throat. The world around you faded as his movements grew more frantic, his tongue flicking at you with a desperate fervor. One of his hands released your thigh, and a low groan escaped his lips as his finger found your entrance, sliding inside with an ease that made you gasp.
âFuck me, youâre so wet,â he murmured, pausing for a moment to take in the sight of youâyour cheeks flushed, eyes sparkling with lust. A satisfied smile broke across his face, and you thought he had never looked so gorgeous.
From your point of view, he looked beautiful. His bright eyes worshipped you intently, his mouth and mustache glistened bathed in you, his hair tossed by your hands mingled in all directions. Joel Miller had never looked so good.
Another finger joined the first, and you closed your eyes, surrendering to the sensation as he curled them just right, hitting that sweet spot that made you gasp for air. You gripped his hair again, pulling him closer, and he let out a throaty laugh, clearly reveling in the sight of you completely undone.
You felt his mouth on you again, the warmth of his lips kissing and sucking with an insatiable hunger that left you breathless. The sound of it was utterly obscene, echoing around the room like a carnal symphony, and it drove you to the brink of madness, your mind spinning in a dizzying haze of pleasure.
His movements grew more intense, a rhythm building that sent waves of ecstasy rippling through your body. You felt yourself teetering on the edge, your hips moving in desperate undulations, surrendering to the climax that Joel savored with unrelenting focus. Your fingers clenched around him, digging in perhaps a bit too hard, but he welcomed it, desperate to drink in every last drop of what you were offering, to savor you whole.
With a low grunt, he squeezed your hips before pulling away, the wet sound of his departure from you hanging heavy in the air. You barely registered his rise from the floor, lost in the aftershocks of pleasure, your eyes still closed as the vibrations coursed through you. It wasnât until his hands gripped your waist that you finally blinked awake, lifting your eyelids to find him gazing down at you, his face mere inches from yours.
He leaned in, capturing your mouth again, a kiss that was both desperate and tender, igniting a fire deep within you. You could taste yourself on his tongue.
Your hands found their way around his neck, pulling him closer as you melted into the kiss. As the intensity built, you let your fingers drift down his chest, trailing lightly until they found the leather of his belt, the sensation sending shivers through you as you tugged him closer.
Joel vibrated against you, a low growl escaping as he nipped at your lower lip while you fumbled with his steel buckle, the sound of it being released becoming your new favorite melody. You unzipped his pants, your heart racing as you slipped your hand inside, finally touching him for the first time.
Your pulse quickened as you wrapped your fingers around him, feeling the heat radiating from his velvet soft skin; big, hot and throbbing in your palm. A rush of desire flooded you, and you pulled away from his lips, dropping to your knees before him, your eyes wide as you took in his form.Â
There he stood, beautiful and swollen with need, and your mouth watered at the sight. You cupped him gently, drawing him closer to your lips, placing a soft kiss on the tip. Joel closed his eyes at the sensation, surrendering to the moment completely, and you traced your tongue over him, tasting the salty sweetness of his pre cum that made your insides tighten with longing.
With a hint of effort, you attempted to take him fully into your mouth, but he was too large, stretching you in ways you hadnât expected. Joel lowered his gaze to you, his fingers caressing your jaw as you struggled to adjust.
âSlow, baby,â he urged, his voice silky yet strained, and it sent another rush of need through you. "I know you can do it."
You matched your hand to your mouth, stroking him where you couldnât quite reach, while your other hand gently caressed his balls, moving in a synchronized rhythm. Joel tensed beneath your touch, his fingers shifting from your face to tangle in your hair, guiding you as he reveled in the pleasure you were giving him.
The sounds in the room became a symphony of pleasure, every moan and gasp echoing off the walls, and you watched as Joel's pleasure climbed. The image was enough to drive him over the edge; your pink, swollen lips covered him and his cock glistened with your saliva, dripping from your chin with every move you made. Your teary eyes looked up at him desirously, and he could take no more; his gaze was filled with a primal hunger that threatened to unravel him. He finally withdrew from your mouth with great reluctance when he felt his stomach tighten, a low complaint escaping your throat in protest.
His breathing was heavy, and a flush colored his cheeks as he lifted you effortlessly, holding you at the waist, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. In one swift motion, he laid you back onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he moved closer; Joel kneeling and settling between your legs which you instinctively opened for him.Â
You needed him, you needed him to fill you whole. You had never needed anything as much as you needed him at that moment. And as if he was reading your thoughts - or maybe he needed you as much as you needed him - he leaned in, taking your mouth with his once more, his moans blending with yours as he lost himself in you.
Your hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as he deepened the kiss, the taste of him igniting a fire in your veins. You felt him positioning himself at your entrance, his heat pulsing against you, and an intense sigh shot through your chest as Joel entered you in one thrust, burning and stretching you around him.Â
âOh God,â he groaned, burying his face into the crook of your neck, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. His right hand traveled to your left leg, lifting it and resting it high on his shoulder, while without hesitation, his other hand mirrored the movement with your right leg, bringing you into a position that felt both intimate and vulnerable. You were completely folded under him.
A cry escaped your lips as Joel began to move on top of you, his face hovering just inches above yours, the heat between you palpable. No one had ever penetrated you so deeply; it felt as though he was everywhere, filling you completely, every inch of you alive with sensation.
Joel's right hand gently squeezed your neck, seeking your mouth for a kiss as his movements took on a more urgent pace. The rhythmic collision of his hips against your buttocks created a beautiful sound that echoed off the walls, each thrust punctuated by the soft, desperate gasps that slipped from his mouth. Your own cries mingled with his as your body tightened again, your hands moving frantically up and down his back, your nails digging into his flesh, leaving little marks that he would surely wear like badges of pleasure.Â
A broken sound escaped from Joel, raw and primal, as he sank his face into the crook of your neck once more, increasing his thrusts with a fervor that felt animalistic, as if the world outside had fallen away and this moment was all that mattered. He fucked you into the mattress with an intensity that left you breathless, as though he were trying to ground you both in this fleeting reality, where nothing else existed except for the two of you entwined together.
You melted around him, your juices mixing with his as you enveloped him completely, and just when you thought you couldnât take any more, he lifted his head, your forehead resting against yours, his wide eyes locking into yours. You had never seen them so dark, so filled with intensity and strength.
And then it hit you:Â It was Joel, your Joel, the one who had been your best friend for four years, and here he was, fucking the life out of you like no one ever had before. What could possibly come after an experience like this?
âI thought you didn't like me,â he said, his voice choppy, strained with effort. A smirk played at the corners of his swollen lips. âSuch a bad liar, baby, look at you.â
You growled in response, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him towards you with a mix of force and anger. Your lips found his in a kiss that was anything but patient, igniting a spark between you. You felt him tense above you, one of his hands quickly moving to your center, exerting immense pressure as he leaned his weight on his other arm, holding you captive beneath him.
His fingers found your clit, tracing gentle circles that made your back arch involuntarily, another wave of pleasure building inside you. Your mouth was still on his, consuming him completely, when your second orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. You felt your insides tighten around him, squeezing him with a ferocity that pulled him closer to his own climax.
Joel gasped into your mouth, and the intensity of it sent your vision spiraling into darkness for a brief moment, the sensation so strong it felt as if the world had collapsed around you. When your breathing finally steadied, you found his hot body pressed against yours, moving in tiny tremors, quickened breaths brushing against your jaw.
He stayed inside you for a few moments longer, savoring the closeness, your hands continuing to caress his back, each touch a silent promise. Then, slowly, he pulled out of you, leaving you feeling achingly empty, his cum trickling from your entrance.
He fell limply beside you, his body slick with sweat, and pulled you close to him, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. His breaths, still heaving, crashed against your damp skin, wrapping you in warmth. Unable to muster the energy to move, you let your eyes flutter closed, surrendering to a deep, exhausted sleep that you would not remember when you woke up...
No, you didn't remember any dream, Because when you opened your eyes the next morning, you stirred in place and your muscles ached pleasantly, reminding you of the night before. And as you stretched your arms across the bed, your fingers grazed the sheets, feeling an emptiness beside you.
When you looked to your sides, the realization hit you hard.
Joel was gone.
taglist: @orcasoul
#joel miller#joel miller fanfic#joel miller smut#joel miller x you#joel miller fic#tlou fic#tlou hbo#tlou joel#capuccinodoll#joel miller is your best friend#joel x reader#joel tlou#joel the last of us#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal joel#dbf!joel
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My Love All Mine (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)
A/N: Not a request. Just a VERY slutty thot I had last night. Inspired by "My Love All Mine" by Mitski. Genuinely, this is one of the filthiest things I've ever written. Enjoy!
Summary: Logan told you to stay in his bed so he could have you when he got home from a mission, but he finds you in the kitchen instead...and he isnât happy.
Warnings: 18+ Explicit sexual content! MINORS DNI!!! Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV (wrap it up!), Porn without plot (literally), multiple orgasms, (uh...they're in the kitchen? kitchen warning?), overstimulation, softdom!Logan, established relationship, f!reader/afab!reader, Logan is one starving and reckless man, disrespecting Scott, cursing, def some grammatical errors, I think that's it.
Word Count: 2,288 told y'all there's no plot
Itâs lateâthe moon high in the sky. But you canât sleepânot without Logan next to you. You know heâll be back soonâhe was only sent on a quick diplomatic day mission with Hank. Charles said Logan needed to control his anger, to learn from the best, and he was right. The trip would certainly do him some good. But it was still brutal, waiting in bed for him, alone.Â
You had thrown one of his shirts on a few minutes ago, refusing to wear anything of your own save for your panties. You wanted to smell himâto find a way to keep him close even while heâs gone. And sure enough, the shirt was all tobacco and pine and musk and Logan.Â
But itâs not enough. You need more. You need him.Â
Too bad youâll have to wait. He asked you to stay in his bed. Wanna fuck you right when I get home, pretty girl. You were happy to oblige earlier, but itâs getting late, and youâre getting boredâimpatient. You swing your legs around the side of Loganâs bed and stand, heading out the bedroom door and down the stairs to the kitchen.Â
A snack could help. A snack could distract you.
The kitchen is dark, and everyone is fast asleep. You rummage through the cabinets, hoping no one can hear you. You find a package of store-bought cookies with a sticky note that has Scottâs name written on it. After consideringâalbeit very brieflyâyou tear Scottâs little note off and toss it to the side. You rip open the package. He wonât care if you have a cookie. Itâs just one, after all. You grab one, bringing it to your lipsâ
âAnd just what do you think youâre doing?â You jump, dropping the cookie on the counter at the sound of the familiar voice. You look across the dimly lit kitchen to see Logan standing in the doorway.Â
âLo?â You whisper.Â
He hums, approaching you slowly, sizing you up. Heâs towering over you, caging you in, hands firmly gripping the counter on either side of your waist. âIs this my shirt?â He asks, his hand dropping to brush your thighs, pinching the hem of the tee between his pointer finger and thumb.Â
âDidnât know when youâd get backâŠâ You trail off, heat rising to your chest. You can feel that all too familiar ache building between your thighs. âM-missed you.â Logan smirks, knowing exactly what heâs doing to you. âMissed you too, pretty girl.â He hikes the shirt up and around your waist, revealing your panties. âNo shorts, huh?âÂ
âN-no,â you pant, suddenly nervous. âLo, someone might see, someone couldâ"
âLet them,â he husks, pressing his chest to yours. âNo bra either, hm?â He lets the shirt fall as his fingertips slip underneath and trail up to your breasts. He squeezes your tits, messaging them gently, his thumbs brushing back and forth over your nipples.Â
âLogan,â you whine, struggling to suppress your moans.Â
âThatâs it, sweetheart,â he murmurs, his lips at the shell of your ear. âLet them know whose girl you are.â That heat between your legs is burning now, flames lighting your every nerve ending on fire.Â
âYours,â you whisper. Logan pinches your nipples, his lips crashing down onto yours, swallowing your moans.Â
He hums. âAll fucking mine.â And then heâs grabbing your ass and hoisting you up. You wrap your legs around his waist as your bare thighs meet the cold granite countertop. Logan bites your lower lip teasingly, his kisses becoming rushed and frantic. He squeezes your tits once more before he slides down your body to the floor below.Â
He settles between your legs, one hand on your hip while the other teases your all too-clothed cunt. He presses a chaste kiss to your clit, this thumb brushing over your folds. âFucking soaked, princess,â he grunts, pleased. âAll this for me?
âY-yes,â you choke. âAll for you.â
He chuckles against you, his laughter vibrating through your core. âCould smell you when I walked in. Canât wait to taste you.â You shudder at his words, at the way they make you feelâyour heart fluttering in your chest, ready to burst.Â
Logan hooks his thumbs into the waistband of your panties and yanks them down, throwing them to the side. He spreads your legs with the palms of his hands. âLogan,â you whisper. âWhat if someone sees?â
He answers with a long stripe through your folds up to your clit. âI said I was gonna fuck you when I got home,â he mumbles against you, licking another long stripe. âAnd you werenât in my bed, so thisâll have to do.â
His lips wrap around your clit, pulling the bud into his mouth and sucking roughly. You squirm, involuntarily moving your hips away from Logan at the sudden pleasure. Logan smiles against you, wrapping a hand around your back to hold you in place, to give himself more leverage to bury his face deep into your cunt.
âYouâre not going anywhere until Iâm done with you, pretty girl,â he growls. His tongue swirls around your clit as his free hand teasingly climbs up your inner thigh. His fingers find your folds, stroking gently, spreading your slick. And then two of his fingers are sinking inside you, deep, down to the knuckles.Â
Your walls flutter around him. Logan slides out and pushes back in deeper, lapping hungrily at your clit. âTastes so fucking good, princess,â he praises. âPretty little pussy, so tight.â
You curse under your breath as his thrusts pick up, fingers slamming into you, hitting that sweet spot with every pump. âLo,â you pant, needy and helpless.Â
His teeth graze your clit, and you moan, louder than before. You bite your lip, doing your all to hold yourself back. âThat feel good, sweetheart?â He does it again, grazing harder this time, taking the bud into his mouth and biting softly. You try to stifle your moan, but it chokes its way out.Â
âNo holding back,â he chides, sucking your clit in between sentences. âLet them know whoâs making you feel this good. Want everyone to know who you belong to.â
âLogan,â you hum, his fingers dragging against your walls, scissoring inside you. Youâre already so close, clenching and contracting around him. âI-IâŠâ but you canât get the sentence out, canât even make a coherent thought.Â
âUse your words, pretty girl,â Logan demands, relentlessly lapping at your clit, pumping in and out fast and hard. âWhat do you need?âÂ
âY-youâŠâ you murmur. âIâm s-so close,â you finally spit out.
Logan tugs you closer, forcing himself deeper as he draws soft circles into your back. âGonna get you there, princess,â he husks, his tongue flicking your clit. âWanna feel you come on my fingers, wanna taste it.â
âF-fuck, Logan,â you stutter. Heâs plunging deeper still, slipping in a third finger. And thatâs when you feel it. The tension snaps. Heat rolls through you, spilling out of you. Heâs still sucking on your clit, savoring the taste of you as you let go for him.Â
Youâre a trembling mess, thighs shaking as you ride out your orgasm. âThatâs it, Iâve got you,â he soothes in between laps. His pumps slow as you come down from your high. His thumb strokes your back comfortingly. He pulls his fingers from you, but his face is still buried inside your cunt, his tongue lapping ravenously.Â
Heâs a man starved, showing no signs of stopping. You reach out, running your hands through his hair, dragging your nails across his scalp. He grunts against you, the bass of his voice going straight to your core. âLogan,â you whisper. His teeth nip at your clit, and you jolt, still overstimulated from your first orgasm. But he isnât taking the hint. âLogan,â you call again. He still doesnât move.Â
âI said you werenât going anywhere,â he pauses, licking a long, slow stripe through your folds, looking up at you under lust-filled eyes. âUntil Iâm finished.â His fingers are prodding at your entrance again. âAnd darlinâ,â he grunts, sliding three fingers back inside. âIâm not finished yet.â
Heâs pumping with more vigor now, more force. Itâs already too much; already more than you can take. His tongue circles your clit, the pressure rocking you to your core. Youâre a whimpering mess as he thrusts into you, moaning his name, praying to him like heâs a god.Â
âLo,â you mumble. âIâm a-alreadyâŠâ You throw your head back, fucked out beyond belief.Â
âI know, pretty girl,â he coos between flits, his fingers slamming into you. âYou gonna give me another one? You gonna let me taste your come again?â
âY-yes,â you stutter. He takes your clit into his mouth, sucking roughly.Â
âGood girl,â he mutters against you, your walls contracting around him at his praise. He can feel you squeezing him; he knows full well what heâs doing to you, and just how close you are. He smirks against your cunt. âSuch a good fucking girl for me.â
And with one more thrust, youâre coming undone around him. Itâs more forceful this time, sudden and uncontrolled. You know Logan likes you like this, quivering underneath him;Â because of him.Â
Heâs slowing down again, his fingers setting a lazy, dragging pace until they stall inside you. Your eyes flutter shut as he slides out. His tongue laps once more before he pulls away from you.Â
You open your eyes, leaning back on your forearms, watching as Logan stands. He brings his fingers to his open mouth and stuffs them inside, sucking, savoring the taste of you, and then pulling them out with a pop. Your walls flutter around nothing at the sight.
âYou taste so fucking good, pretty girl,â he huffs. He grabs your hips, yanking them just over the counter. He steps in between your legs, unbuckling his belt and letting it fall to the kitchen floor. Heâs unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down his zipper, shoving the denim down his legs along with his boxers.
You sit up, reaching out towards him, but Logan pushes you down against the counter. He pins your hands above your head with one hand, while his other guides his cock to your entrance. âYou gonna let me fuck you into this counter, sweetheart?â He hovers over you, his eyes tracking your every move.
âY-yes,â you whine. âN-need you, Lo.âÂ
And then heâs slamming into you, down to the hilt. Heâs filling you up and splitting you open with a single thrust. Youâll never get used to just how big he is, no matter how many times he fucks you.Â
âFuck,â he growls, swallowing your moans with a kiss. âFeels so good, so tight, pretty girl.â He pulls out and plunges back in, deeper this time. âThought about you all day, beautiful.â
âTh-thought about you too, Lo,â you whine as he builds his pace. His hand leaves his cock and finds your clit, stroking the bud gently with his thumb. You arch your back at the touch, your chest pressing against his.Â
âNeeded this fucking pussy,â he grunts, his hips snapping into yours. âNeed you. Always need you.â His words alone could send you over the edge. His thumb circles around your core, his cock dragging deliciously against your walls.Â
Heâs hovering over you, still pinning your wrists down to the counter, offering him stability and balance. He pounds into you, hitting that sweet spot with every pump. You know you canât last much longer, not with Loganâs lips at your ear, whispering sweet praises. So fucking good. Feels perfect, always so perfect. Heâs right. He fits inside you like you were made for each other, like it was always meant to be this way.Â
Your walls squeeze him tightly, threatening to let go, to come crashing down around him. He ruts into you, hips rocking against yours. He adds more pressure to your clit, his thumb stroking faster, harder. âLo,â you call out. âC-close again,â you stammer.Â
âCan feel you, beautiful,â he coos. âGonna take care of you, donât worry.â You can feel his pace faltering, growing sloppier. Heâs close, tooânot far behind. âWanna feel you come on my cock, pretty girl. Know you can do it.â
âF-fuck,â you stammer as he flicks your clit, circling roughly. Heâs throbbing as he slams into you, hit after hit. âLogan,â you whine. âIâm gonnaââÂ
It happens all at once. Youâre crashing, pleasure raging through your body. It tears through you, burning, spreading. Logan is right behind, filling you up, coming deep inside as you clench down around him. He releases your hands from his pin and shifts so that heâs pulling you into his chest as you finish. Youâre sitting up, slumping against him, still riding out your orgasm.Â
He pumps in and out a few more times until heâs still inside you. He strokes your clit gently, soothingly, letting you down easy from your peak. He pulls out, his arms wrapping around your back and tugging you closer. He holds you tightly, limp in his arms.
You rest your head in the crook of his neck, and he presses a chaste kiss to your temple. âMissed you,â he whispers, all soft now. His cocky attitude is goneâhis needs satiated. Now heâs all gentle kisses and soothing rubs up and down your back.Â
âMissed you more,â you answer, smiling as you look up at him.Â
He presses a kiss to your forehead. âDonât think thatâs possible, sweetheart.â His fingers trace shapes into your back. âAnd princess?â He mumbles. You nod against him. âDonât think Iâm finished with you just yet.â
Your heart thumps in your chest.Â
âNever gonna be finished with you.â
tags: @figsnpassionfruits @slaymewithaspoon @hunbomb @lanassmarty @zxaera @silversprings-mp3 @velvrei
#Logan Howlett x reader#Wolverine x reader#James Logan Howlett x reader#Logan Howlett x reader smut#Wolverine x reader smut#James Logan Howlett x reader smut#Logan Howlett smut#Wolverine smut#James Logan Howlett smut#Logan Howlett x you#Wolverine x you#James Logan Howlett x you#Logan Howlett x you smut#Wolverine x you smut#James Logan Howlett x you smut#Logan Howlett imagine#Wolverine imagine#James Logan Howlett imagine
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Delicious | LN4
pairing: fem sainz!reader x lando norris
genre: SMUTTTTT, 18+ MINORS DNI, p in v, fingering, light choking, use of pet names (darling, baby, sweetheart, good girl, etc), cream pie, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it y'all!!!!), language, hold the moan vibes, dirty talk, Lando being a hoe
requested: yes!
word count: 3.9k
author's note: i LOVE me some brother's best friend trope
When your older brother first joined McLaren, you were unbelievably proud of him, so, naturally, you moved heaven and earth to make it to his first race with the team. Meeting Lando, you finally understood why all of Carlos' stories from before the season started were about his new teammate, and how much he made him laugh. He was friendly to you, and kind, and had a knack for making sure you never felt out of place. He also made your chest go a little tight, but you chose to ignore that feeling. Best not to complicate things for your brother.
It's been years since you first met Lando, and you can't quite use that excuse to convince yourself you need to avoid Lando. You still try, certainly, but it doesn't really carry the weight it used to, not with Carlos at Ferrari now. Would it still be messy? Maybe. Would it be a complete shit show? ...Probably not, right?
That little tendril of doubt created just enough space for that weird feeling Lando elicited to bloom. And now, with the Summer break giving Carlos time off, he's invited Lando to your family's home, for an entire week.
"Morning," the sound of Lando's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. As if it wasn't already bad enough that he was staying in your house, now Lando had the audacity to show up in the kitchen, voice gravely from sleep, with a pair of gray sweatpants hanging low enough on his hips to show the V-line of his muscles there. Your eyes trailed up his torso, allowing yourself to indulge in his tan skin and taut muscles for just a moment, before your gaze met his. A knowing look danced across his face, eyes glinting with mischief, as he smirked at you over his mug of coffee.
"Oh, um, good morning," you coughed out, embarrassed at having been caught. "How'd you sleep?" you managed to force out.
Lando took his time, finishing his sip of coffee before answering, "Slept alright. Couldn't fall asleep for a while, for some reason, though." You couldn't quite decipher the look on his face while he said it, but he didn't give you enough time to overthink it. "You?"
Your face heated immediately at the reminder of what exactly you'd been doing last night, instead of sleeping. "F-fine, thanks." It had been four long days where Lando had made himself seemingly unavoidable. Even at night, when you could close your door to the rest of the house, and lock yourself away, your thoughts strayed back to Lando no matter what you did. Last night, the ache in your core had gotten so unbearable that you'd touched yourself to the thought of him. It seemed that even the walls of your room couldn't quite keep Lando out.
"What's got you thinking so hard over there, Sainz?"
You schooled your expression, refusing to let him throw you off balance again. "Wouldn't you like to know, Norris." The coffee mug in your hands hid your face rather well as you lifted it to take a sip, leveling him with a look that you hoped seemed like a challenge.
Pushing off the counter he'd been leaning against, Lando took a step closer to you. "I really, really would, actually."
You allowed yourself to lean in for just a moment, inhaling the smell of him, before pulling back. "Too bad." Chair legs scraping against the floor as you pushed away from the table, standing and taking your mug and book with you.
"Oh, come on! You're really gonna tease me like that?" he whined, shouting at your back as you headed up the stairs.
"Gotta make you work for it, Norris!" you called back, retreating into your room once again, giddier than you'd care to admit, and telling yourself that you'd only left because you had work to do. Certainly not because you weren't sure how much longer you'd be able to hold on with Lando under the same roof.
Just three more days.
The loud splashes and laughter from outside drew your attention away from your book, for what felt like the hundredth time in two minutes. Sighing exasperatedly, you rolled over on your bed, craning your neck up to look out of your window.
Carlos and Lando were in the pool in the backyard below you, squealing like little kids as they hit each other with water balloons. You rolled your eyes at the childish behavior, even as you fought (and failed) to keep a smile off of your lips. You heard your father's voice ring throughout the house, and Carlos and Lando must've heard it too, because they quickly dropped their makeshift weapons at the call that they needed to get cleaned up for dinner. Your parents weren't terribly strict, but even they preferred for everyone at their dinner table to be fully clothed and not dripping everywhere.
Just as you'd made your way out of your room to head downstairs, you froze, finding a sopping wet Lando Norris in the hallway. Even after you (accidentally) ogled him this morning, you couldn't manage to keep your eyes on his as you watched the way the droplets of water fell off the ridges of his chiseled chest and torso. You hadn't quite noticed how close you'd come to running into each other, barely a foot of space between you, that seemed to shrink more and more the longer you stared. And you weren't the only one. The sundress you wore hung off your body in a way that made Lando want to memorize every line and curve of it himself. Looking wasn't enough - he'd always been more of a hands-on learner, anyways. And the way the gentle breeze swirled the skirt of it around your hips and legs made him want to find out if you were wearing anything underneath it. Made him want to rip anything he found there off with his teeth.
"Hermanita! Lando! Dinner in twenty minutes!" Carlos shouted up, from the sound of it in the kitchen, most likely helping your parents like the doting son he was. Helping, unlike you. Standing in the hallway, now only inches from Lando, chest rising and falling erratically as you tried to convince yourself that you should not fuck your brother's friend and former teammate in your parents' house with your entire family downstairs.
"Twenty minutes," Lando breathed, barely above a whisper. He took a final step forward, mouth painfully close to touching yours as his spread into a mischievous grin. "I can work with that."
His lips crashed into yours, hands gripping your face delicately as he did so, moving only after yours landed in his hair. Lando finally, finally, got his hands on those hips that had been torturing him, tempting him, for years, squeezing as he pulled you into him. Your fingers raked through his curls, tugging gently as you pushed him backwards into your room. He went willingly, grinning into the kiss at your enthusiasm as you kicked the door shut behind you, letting you take charge for the time being and falling to the bed when the backs of his knees hit it, hands dragging down your thighs as he went. For a moment, you paused, taking in the way Lando was looking up at you. Adoring. Reverent. Hungry.
His hands on your thighs urged you forward to straddle him, sliding his grip up your back to pull your torso flush with his. "God, these fucking tits," he groaned, squeezing you harder into his chest before sliding his hands around to your front, cupping them harshly. Through lidded eyes, you watched his hands, large, nimble, and veiny, knead your breasts while he hummed appreciatively, unable to look away from your chest for even a moment. "Been waiting to get my hands on you for so long, sweetheart," he heaved, speaking into your skin as his lips trailed over your exposed chest, just under your collarbone, punctuating the statement with a final, firm squeeze of your tits.
Before you could finish the whine building in you at the loss of his hands, Lando had yanked down the flimsy straps of your sundress, allowing your tits to spill out over the neckline. Lando swears he could come from that sight alone. "You're so gorgeous," he muttered, more to himself than to you, before looking back into your eyes, "so fucking gorgeous." His lips found yours again, stealing your breath as one hand reached up to ghost over your nipple, already sensitive and hardening from the cool air in your room, while the other lowered to rest on your waist, gently urging you to rock your hips against him at your own pace. "So," his kisses now landed on your jaw, "so," your neck, "beautiful. I think it might actually kill me," gently nipping at your pulse point before soothing the tender skin with his tongue.
Your breath had grown shallow from the attention he paid to your neck and chest, hitching as he tweaked your nipple just right, almost harsh enough to be painful but light enough to make you crave more. But what caused your breath to quicken was the feeling of Lando under you. Those strong, muscled thighs, bracketed by your own, felt so firm you couldn't stop your mind from wondering how they would feel if you ground yourself against them. The way they tensed as he moved, or restrained himself from moving as he tried to let you set the pace, felt so delicious against your thighs and through layers of fabric, you can't imagine how they would feel flexing against your core. Delicious as those thoughts were, they would have to wait for another time, because nothing was more tempting than the press of his hard cock against you, straining at the material of his swim trunks, the remaining water of the pool dampening your already wet panties.
"Shh, sweetheart, we've got to be careful," Lando startles you, the hand that had been on your tits gently closing over your mouth, and only then did you realize just how much noise you'd been making. Your cheeks heated at the realization, feeling your breath catching in your throat, rapid and uneven, whimpers and whines and a whole host of other, embarrassing sounds trapped beneath the firm press of Lando's large hand. You were so worked up that even that thought, the sheer size of his palm against you, how those thick, nimble fingers would feel between your thighs, made you whine louder, hips speeding up as you sought some kind of friction. Lando's eyes darkened as you ground yourself onto him, harder, faster, hand tightening around your waist and thighs flexing underneath you. He was holding back, you could tell, his restraint hanging by a thread, and every move you made threatened to fray that thread to its breaking point.
You wanted to make him snap.
There would be another time to savor this, to take your time, to memorize every inch of him, later.
You raised one of your hands from his broad shoulders, gripping the hand that covered your mouth and tapping twice. Immediately, Lando removed his hand, eyes filling with concern that he'd done something wrong, but before he could ask you were already whining again.
"Please, Lan," you begged, hips pressing down as harshly as you could manage. "Need you so bad, please, please," your voice was thin and breathy, and if you weren't nearly delirious from finally having this, having him, within your grasp, you might've been embarrassed by it. "Don't tease me, I c - can't take it."
Lando's head fell back with a groan, making no effort to silence himself as he did with you. "Fuck, darling, you want me that much, huh?" You nodded eagerly, hips continuing their grind as you felt Lando's cock twitch beneath you. "Such a desperate little thing, aren't you?" he asked, latching his mouth on the flesh of your breast, sucking a harsh mark into the delicate skin. Low enough that your family wouldn't be able to see, you realized, but dark enough that you'd have a reminder of him on your skin for the next few days. The thought made you flush with heat. The sudden bite of Lando's teeth on your tit shocked you out of your haze. "I asked you a question, sweetheart."
You blinked down at him, bleary eyed, "W-what?"
His grin was wicked as he looked up at you, "Aw, poor baby's already going cock dumb and I haven't even fucked you yet." Your cheeks heated, and he didn't give you the time to gather yourself enough to formulate a comeback. "I asked if you were a desperate little thing for me? You desperate for me to fuck you stupid, darling?"
A whine escaped your lips, unbidden, at his words, and the look in his eyes told you he wouldn't let you deny its cause. "God, yes, Lan, yes I'm so desperate for you, want you to fuck me so bad, I - fuck -"
The sensation of his fingers sliding your thong to the side scrambled your brains again, scattering any thoughts you'd managed to gather. The rough, calloused pad of his thumb brushed over your clit, and your body rocked violently into his hold, chasing the pleasure. "Keep talking to me, sweetheart, tell me what you want. Tell me all the filthy things my pretty little girl wants me to do to her," he whispered into your ear, lips going back to attacking your neck.
"W-want - want you to - ah- fuck me with your fingers, think about those p-perfect hands all the - fuck - t-time, want your thick fingers in me before you fuck me, Lando," you moaned out, pushing through even though your whines threatened to interrupt you.
"Good girl," he purred, sliding his middle finger through your folds, moaning into your neck at the feel of you. "So fucking wet f'me, darling, fuck," his left hand tweaked your nipple, as his right slowly sank a finger into you. The sound he let out was almost animalistic as he felt you clenching around him, reacting to the stretch that even one of his fingers made you feel. "Holy shit, you're so tight, baby," he lifted his head to be level with yours, wanting to watch your face as he touched you. "How am I gonna fit my cock into this tight little pussy of yours if you can barely take one of my fingers?"
The only answer you could give him was a needy moan, one that had his left hand going back up, not to cover your mouth, but to rest on your throat. "Shh, remember, sweetheart, you don't want your parents to hear us, do you?"
You shook your head fiercely, but immediately lost your train of thought again as Lando began to pump his finger in and out of you, slowly to let you adjust. His thumb landed firmly back on your clit, and the way he curled his long, thick fingers had him reaching a spot inside of you you'd never managed to reach before.
"What else do you want me to do, darling? Don't tell me you've already gone brainless? I've barely gotten started with you."
"Want more, Lan, want you to stretch me with your fingers so you can fuck me, want to feel you - oh, god," you barely managed to catch yourself before you screamed at the feeling of Lando pushing another finger into you. Even though he was aided by your wetness, Lando slowed his pace as he let you adjust again, easing into you as gently as possible as he maintained his circles on your clit.
"Want to feel me what, sweetheart?" he encouraged, curling his fingers to that same spot, this time hitting it hit his index and middle fingers and making your brain short circuit.
"Want to - Lan - w-want, I, fuck," you babbled, head falling to the crook of Lando's shoulder as you struggled for words.
"Come on, now, darling, be a good girl and tell me what you want. You do want to be a good girl f'me, don't you?" He chuckled lightly at how quickly you nodded, head staying buried in his neck.
"I- I want t-to feel you in me, feel your cock in me, feel you stretch me out with it, f-feel you fill me up - stuff me full with you, with your cum, leave me dripping with it."
The hand on your throat tightened harshly, briefly, before both of Lando's hands were off you and working on his swim trunks. "Jesus christ, baby, you've got a dirty little mouth on you. Such a perfect fucking girl for me, darling, such a dirty little thing, god you're perfect," he mumbled the praises into your mouth, stopping every so often to kiss you tenderly, hungrily, as his hands made quick work of the tie on his swim trunks, pulling them down enough to let his cock spring free. Your eyes widened involuntarily at the sight of it slapping against his stomach, the hard muscles of his abs and the red, leaking tip of his cock mesmerizing you.
You lifted your hips, allowing Lando to yank you closer to him until you hovered just over his cock, both of your hands bracing against his shoulders as one of his went under your dress to guide his cock through your folds.
"You want me to fuck you, sweetheart?"
"Yes, please Lan, please, ple-"
You had to cover your mouth with your own hand this time, the stretch of his cock making your eyes water, tears springing from them. Lando stared straight into your eyes as he sank you down onto his cock, bottom lip trapped between his teeth in a feeble attempt to silence himself. Both of his hands landed on your hips, gripping harshly as he held himself back from fucking up into you right away.
"God, baby you're so tight, you have such a perfect little cunt," he panted, eyes fixed on yours, not wanting to miss a single expression on your face. Finally, he bottomed out, the slow glide of his cock in you heavenly, fingers flexing against you as he forced himself to be patient.
A weak whimper left you despite the hand over your mouth as you slowly rose up, dropping harshly back onto Lando's cock and digging in your fingers at the sensation.
"Fuuuuuuuck," Lando ground out, hips bucking slightly up into you as you sank back down on him again.
It didn't take long for your legs to begin to shake, pace faltering as you grew tired. "Lando," you breathed out, head nestled in the crook of his neck again.
"Yes, darling?" His voice was thin, reedy, telling you he was just as affected as you were, even if he was better at hiding it.
"Can't - can't," your own gasp interrupted you as the head of Lando's cock hit a particularly sensitive spot inside you. "Too tired, need you to - god."
Lando chuckled, chest rumbling underneath your forehead, "You need me to do it for you, baby? You already too fucked out to move?"
"Please," you whined, unable to muster any embarrassment at the desperation in your voice. He knew he did this to you. Why bother trying to hide it?
Something in your neediness got to him, hands sliding up to your waist and squeezing as he gave himself a better hold on you. "That's a good girl. Don't worry, sweetheart, I've got you."
He lifted you off his cock, before slamming you back down onto him, hips fucking up into you harshly. The feeling of him manhandling you with ease was nearly enough to make you come on its own, but that combined with the way he kept hitting that spot inside of you, over, and over, and over again? You were so close you felt like you were going to explode.
And Lando knew it, too. Could tell from the way your hands scrabbled for purchase on his muscular shoulders, the way your head went limp on his shoulder as you gave him complete control over your body, from the way you clenched around him, and when he dropped one of his hands to graze a thumb over your clit as he fucked up into you, you were helpless to do anything but collapse into his embrace as you rode out your high.
Lando continued to hold you up by your waist, limbs sluggish and heavy, as he chased his own high, spurred on by your whimpers of overstimulation. But what finally pushed him over the edge was the sound of your voice, wrecked and fucked out, whispering weakly in his ear, "Please, Lando, please fill me up."
He came with a groan that he tried to bury in your neck, nipping lightly at the skin as he came down, chest heaving and moving you with it since you still hadn't managed to regain control of your own body just yet. The feeling of him painting your walls made you whimper, unintentionally clenching around him again, which elicited a deep groan from him.
"You keep squeezing me like that, darling, and you're gonna get me hard again."
You giggled, which earned you a playful swat on the ass from Lando, chuckling along with you as he stroked your cheek tenderly, admiring you in your post-orgasm haze.
"Lan-"
"Dinner is ready! Hurry up and get down here, we're starving!" The sound of your brother's voice jolted both of you out of your stupor, matching looks of panic on your faces.
Before you could say anything else, Lando whispers, "We're talking about this later tonight, sweetheart." Placing a kiss on your cheek, Lando lifts you off of him, hissing at the feeling, and setting you on your bed next to him before getting up and running across the hall to his room.
After you managed to muster the strength to move, you quickly fixed your dress, trying to make sure that your face and hair weren't dead giveaways for just having had the best sex of your life. You rushed downstairs, blaming your breathlessness on having run to dispel your mother's concern, and sat down quickly, trying to avoid any questions about what had taken you so long.
A few seconds later, Lando joined you, sitting across from you, eyes burning into you in a way that made you shift in your seat. That turned out to be a huge mistake, because just as your brother passed you the salad, Lando's cum leaked out of you as you realized belatedly that not only had you not cleaned up, but you hadn't even put your panties back on. You froze, quickly shifting back and squeezing your thighs together in an effort to stop him from seeping out of you, and miraculously, none of your family seemed to notice.
But the way your eyes widened told Lando exactly what had happened.
When your parents asked how the dinner was, you stammered out some poor excuse of a response, not really knowing how to speak to your family with Lando's cum dripping out of you.
Lando shot you a wicked grin, winking quickly enough that no one else saw it, and stared right into your eyes as he answered.
"Delicious."
#lando norris x reader#lando norris#f1 smut#f1#lando norris fanfic#lando norris imagine#lando norris smut#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 smut#formula one smut#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris blurb#ln4#formula 1#formula one#lando norris f1#mclaren f1#lando norris x oc#formula 1 x you#formula 1 fic#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x female reader
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đŠȘIridescent ScalesđŠȘ heads up - audio is nsfw-ish
âĄïžsynopsis: You help Rafayel with whatever he's going through (mermaid heat).
âĄïžpairing: Rafayel x fem!reader
ïœĄÂ°â ïžÂ°ïœĄMINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)ïœĄÂ°â ïžÂ°ïœĄ
âĄïžcw: temperature play, blowjob, multiple orgasms (both Rafayel and reader), creampie
âĄïžword count: 1.5k
âĄïža/n: Ofc I had to write a spicy version for Ebb and Flow.
âĄïž special thanks to my beta reader âĄïž@its-deâĄïž for reading and helping me with this
divider by @cafekitsune
"Don't hold back. Share your warmth with me." Rafayel breathes out, his hand clutching your wrist.
"..." You're confused by the request, almost a plea. Before you can say anything, his hand starts guiding yours from his satin cheek, over his neck, down his exposed chest...
You try to free your hand when you realize where he's going. "Rafayel - !" But his hand doesn't let you move.
"You're burning up! I need to get you some ice!" With that you manage to free your hand and hurry towards the kitchen.
For whatever reason, your boyfriend didn't have any ice packs in the freezer, so you filled a resealable bag with ice cubes. You might go grocery shopping for him tomorrow, if he doesn't get better.
You slowly approach him as you notice that his eyes are closed, but they flutter open and he turns to you when you sit down next to him. He doesn't say anything, just lets you gently rest the ice cold bag on his neck. He's still wearing that uncomfortable frown, as he's looking at you, studying you, like he's waiting for something.
Even if this condition, whatever it is, only happens once a year, you still feel bad for Rafayel. You wish you could take away the pain.
You switch the bag to the other side, and you press your lips to his forehead. Still burning up.
"I wish there's something more I could do." You softly murmur.
"I've told you..." He groans and grabs your free hand and starts leading it down again. And you stop him again.
"Rafayel, I'm not gonna take advantage of you!"
Now he frowns at you in both discomfort and confusion. "I'm not intoxicated, am I? And I'm both telling you and showing you how to help me."
Is it how he used to make it go away? You don't want to make him even more upset by asking that. Even if he says it will help, you're still hesitant about helping him in that way. An Ice cold bath would certainly help the most, but he's too tired to move and you can't drag his dead weight to the bath.
You still have ice though.
With a new idea, you open the bag and take out one ice cube. Setting the bag aside, you work the rest of the buttons and open the shirt, exposing his torso.
His breath hitches as you slowly drag the ice cube from his collar bone and his toned chest. Rafayel pants as he watches you take another ice cube, the first one melting on his hot skin in seconds. You take two, three more, the ice gliding and melting over the ridges and valleys of his muscles, goosebumps sprinkling his pale, glistening skin.
You rest your hand on his chest, feeling the damp and cooled skin under your touch, thinking you made some progress, but his chest is still rising and falling rapidly.
Rafayel whispers your name and takes the hand on his chest, this time gently, bringing it to his lips, planting a soft kiss. "Touch me, please."
And how can you deny him, when he's looking at you with those mesmerizing, pleading eyes.
"Okay." You give his lips a small peck. "But you need to tell me if you start feeling uncomfortable."
He nods, agreeing to your condition, and pulls you by the back of your head in a deep, desperate kiss, while the other hand frees his hard member in mere seconds.
You don't want to tease him, as much as you love doing that to him, you know that now is not the time. You're going to indulge him, and you love that even more.
Rafayel hisses against your lips, as your still cold hand wraps around his so fucking hot dick. You whisper a small sorry and he just shakes his head and continues the kiss, tongue darting out to lick your lips, and to slide inside, meeting yours.
Your hand, already warmed up, slowly starts stroking him, your finger playing with the tip, spreading around the precum, so much precum, that was leaking out. You spread it around, making it easy to pump his cock, going up and down, twisting your wrist, rubbing the sensitive swollen tip.
And it's getting harder for Rafayel to keep his lips locked with yours, moans and pants following your every move.
You're no better. Watching his flushed face with those beautiful scales, while his cock is throbbing under your touch, has you holding back moans, your mouth salivating, and your panties soaked.
Telling yourself that he needs this, you get down on your knees, sitting between his thighs. Rafayel watches you in awe, as your tongue goes from the base towards the tip, licking and swirling, followed by your plump lips wrapping around, working your way down. He curses under his breath as you suck and slowly bob your head, his hand resting on your head.
"Fuck, princess, you're - haah- doing so good ..." He chokes back another moan. "Touch yourself for me, please..."
And you do just that - your free hand buries itself inside your panties, two middle fingers sliding between your folds, then zeroing in on the bundle of nerves, going up and down, and around. You moan around his dick as you pleasure yourself, the vibration and the lewd sight driving Rafayel crazy. His hips thrust upwards with more vigor, the cockhead hitting your throat more, and you let him use your mouth and throat however he wants. The sensation of his dick hitting the back of your throat, while moans are spilling out of his lips, with your fingers in your panties, makes you so desperately aroused, so needy for more.
With one last thrust, hot semen fills your throat and mouth, tears pricking your eyes as you choke a little. There's so much of it that some of it still spills down the corners of your mouth.
Swallowing, you pull your lips away from his still hard cock before you start overstimulating him, and you take your hand out of your soaked underwear. Rafayel brings you up and makes you straddle. He brings the hand covered with your essence to his lips and wraps them around your digits, eyes closing as he savors your taste.
He pulls away from your fingers and cups your cheek. "Get yourself off on my dick."
You almost yelp at his words. "But - You -?"
He throws the blanket from the sofa onto the floor, sweeps you up in his arms and lays you down on top of it. He tugs off your pants and underwear in one swift motion, picks you up, and you're on top of him again. His breath fans over your lips as he lines his cock against your dripping entrance. "Use me, pretty girl. I'm all yours."
The frown from before is gone, and is replaced with lustful daze in his eyes, the only thing on his mind being chasing each other's high. And you're not sure if it's your skin adapting to his heat, or if his body temperature has actually gone down. The burning red on his cheeks and chest is still present though.
He makes the decision easy for you as he pushes his tip past your entrance, and like a reflex, you slide down his length, a slight sting following the motion but is replaced with waves of pleasure as you start moving your hips.
"That's it doll, just like that." Rafayel admires you from below as you roll your hips, your clit grazing his pelvis as he thrusts up in your rhythm, moans leaving your alluring lips. His hands, clinging to your hips, dig into your supple skin in a bruising grip, as he feels another orgasm building up.
You whimper as he sneaks his thumb between your bodies, rubbing your sensitive nub, and you hold onto his still clothed shoulders. "Don't stop - !" You pant and within seconds you lie down on top of him, waves of your orgasm leaving you breathless, letting him move you to ride out your high.
His arms wrap around you, holding you tightly against him, his feverishly hot body making you sweat. Rafayel grits out "Can I cum inside you?"
You nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck and nod, sloppily kissing the smooth skin and delicate scales, tasting his sweat on your tongue. You're held in place as he pounds into you, his dick hitting your sweet spot over and over, his pelvis slapping against your clit. Your pussy throbs with another orgasm, and with strangled, breathless moans, Rafayel fills you up, the twitching and his cum - all of it making you lightheaded.
With the last few slow thrusts, Rafayel pulls out, the emptiness and cold air against your leaking entrance making you shiver.
You prop yourself up on your elbows, resting on either side of his head. You brush away the curls sticking to his forehead. You softly whisper, still catching your breath "Are you okay?"
He smiles and caresses your cheek "Yeah. But I'll feel even better if you can spend the night by my side."
#love and deepspace#lads rafayel#rafayel x you#rafayel x reader#love and deepspace rafayel#rafayel love and deepspace#rafayel smut#love and deepspace smut#lads smut#lads x reader
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hotch x reader with new baby girl, honestly i have no ideas just anything with girl!dad aaron lovey fluff is all i want, heâs just so lovely ily jadey đ
thank you for requesting! fem, 1.4k
Hotch is so hungry he genuinely wonders if it is acceptable to collapse and beg you to make him a sandwich. He probably would if Jane hadnât tired you out so fiercely that morning; learning to crawl is hard on both the baby and the mom.Â
Itâs not his turn to make dinner, but he is, because he doesnât really care whoâs turn it is. He has the tortellini on a low heat, the veggies toasting to a golden brown in the oven.Â
He wonders if having a baby isnât what you thought it would be. Itâs certainly not how Hotch imagined it, because Jane is gorgeous and he couldnât be more in love with her, but sheâs also very hard work. Hard work you often perform alone. You donât seem upset, only tired, and so making dinner is his pleasure. Itâs as heâs finishing up that he wonders if he shouldâve offered to put Jane down instead.Â
Heâs trying so, so hard to be the best father and husband that he can be. He might always find it difficult (but it's an effort heâs always willing to make).Â
âDad?â Jack asks.Â
âYeah?âÂ
âDinner almost done?âÂ
Hotch wraps an arm around Jackâs front despite his wriggling. âAlmost,â he says into Jackâs hair, âdid you wash your hands?âÂ
âI always wash my hands. Did you wash yours?âÂ
Hotch laughs. Steals that extra second with his arms around Jack before he pulls away. âOf course I did. Iâm gonna go make sure everythingâs okay in babyland, okay? And then weâll fill in your homework diary.âÂ
Jack nods and goes back to colouring. In babyland, the living room, outfitted with toys and swings and sleepers, you and Jane are slouched on the floor. Youâre leaning against the front of the couch with Jane in your lap while she looks up at you. At eight months old sheâs more than fond of a cuddle. Her eyes are wide with love and awe alike as you rub the bridge of her nose with your pinky finger, the closer you get to her eyes, the more they squint closed. You repeat the motion over and over again. âYouâre feeling sleepy,â you whisper in a funny tone, âyou want to nap badly. Youâre gonna sleep for a long couple of hours so mommy can have a bath.âÂ
âMom can have a bath,â Hotch says.Â
You donât startle, but your surprise is evident in the way your hand slides up her back. âIâm kidding around.âÂ
âNo, itâs okay. You go take a bath, I can have her.âÂ
âShe might not like that.âÂ
Jane has clingy syndrome. âDoes it matter?â he asks sincerely. If she cries, she cries, and he will try his hardest to comfort her.Â
You smile slowly, and sweetly. âOkay, Iâll be quick. I donât want to miss dinner.âÂ
âDinnerâs ready when you are.âÂ
Hotch crouches down to begin the transfer. âHello, little love,â he murmurs, sliding his fingertips carefully behind her back. Sheâs warm, her onesie soft. âCan dad have a kiss?âÂ
Jane is a quiet baby. Itâs normal that she might not start speaking for a few more months, but beside the occasional âbababaâ or giggly laugh, she doesnât have much to say ânot unlike her father. Her communication lays instead in affection. Her emotional intelligence is in the highest percentile, certainly.Â
Not that Hotch is prone to bragging. âThereâs my smarty,â he hums, pulling her gently into his arms before he stands. She looks at him with equal parts curiosity and annoyance.Â
He can guess what sheâs thinking. Why is dad picking me up?Â
She looks for you with a wobbly lip.Â
âItâs okay, itâs okay, canât dad have some time with you? Youâve favoured your mommy all day.â Hotch brings his free hand to her cheek to stroke it. She loves it, immediately tipping her face into his hand, tickled and huffing as he leans down to kiss her nose. âPlease, can I have a kiss?âÂ
He kisses her cheek. She gives a spitty one back.Â
You slink away while sheâs distracted and he carries Jane to the kitchen, turning the oven off with one hand, and pushing a chair out with his foot to sit. Jackâs eyes brighten with her arrival, colouring pencils pushed aside. âHi, Janie.âÂ
Jack waves at her. She waves back.Â
He shifts Jane further into his arms to press lazy kisses over her ear. âMy baby,â he murmurs, nearly inaudible against the hum of the washing machine in the utility room and the gentle patter of rain on the windows. âSheâs my smart girl. Just like her brother.â He strokes her head back to see her and her baby-lashes. âHm? Youâre my smart girl, arenât you?âÂ
She tucks herself into the curve of his neck.
âShe knows how to wave already,â Jack says, âwhen will she be able to say my name?âÂ
âPretty soon, bud. Babies tend to learn things in little jumps. Sheâs making sounds, the babbling she does? Thatâs a stepping stone. Next sheâll say mama, and then mom, and then we can teach her all sorts of words.âÂ
âLike crawling to walking.âÂ
Hotch smiles as Jane leans back against his hand. âExactly. Jane isnât the only smarty-pants, huh?âÂ
Jack smiles in return. âYou look happy.âÂ
âI am happy. So happy, because Iâm so lucky to be your dad.âÂ
âIs it weird?âÂ
âWhat?âÂ
Jack shrugs. âBeing a dad.âÂ
âNo, itâs never weird. Sometimes weird stuff happens. Like when we all panicked thinking we couldnât fine Jane just to realise I was holding her,â âJack giggles ferociously at the memoryâ âand, you know, sometimes things get pretty gross.âÂ
âLike spit up.âÂ
âExactly. But being your dad isnât weird. It feels like the most natural thing in the world. Iâm luckyâŠâ He kisses Jane again indulgently. âTo have ended up with another child as perfect as the first.âÂ
âDad,â Jack says, squirming and pleased at once.Â
âWhat?â Hotch laughs. He has spent a long time proving to Jack that heâs not as serious as he was, a long time trying to keep his promise, and he can see now that it worked. Jack shakes his head and goes back to his colouring as a smile apples his cheeks, not for a moment surprised that his dad loves him without hesitation.Â
Hotch beams to himself, absolutely full to the top with love as he lifts Jane up just enough to make her smile too. âOh, nummy!â he says, taking a big pretend bite of her belly.Â
You take a long, long time in the bath. He ends up serving Jackâs plate when his son hints that heâs hungry, and giving Jane another couple of ounces of milk. She grows sleepy on his shoulder. With some soft taps to her spine and a handful of loving shushes, she falls asleep there.Â
Sentimental, he thinks, Aw, my girl, and begins to rub her little foot through her onesie.Â
You find him standing in the kitchen, hip to the counter. Heâs not doing anything besides holding Jane, Jackâs plate abandoned at the table and his cartoons playing from the living room. Hotch shouldâve put Jane down for a nap in the bassinet in the living room, freeing his hands to tackle the mess of dishes heâs made preparing dinner, but he honestly hadnât thought about moving. Heâd been perfectly content to hold her and rub her wiggling foot.Â
âSorry I took so long,â you whisper.Â
âNo, no, you take as long as you need. You look better.âÂ
You ease between Hotch and the counter, situating yourself in a snug corner to see Janeâs face more clearly. You look at her with love, and then you lean up to kiss his cheek. âI knew youâd get her to nap. Youâre amazing.âÂ
âShe likes all the same stuff as you and Jack,â Hotch whispers with a soft laugh.
You pause for a second. Careful, you bring your hand to his cheek, a gentle fist turned with knuckles inward as you stroke his cheek with your index finger. âCan I take a photo of you?âÂ
âWhat for?â he asks.Â
âI wanna remember it. And itâll be nice one day to show Jane.âÂ
âTo show her what?âÂ
âYou, Aaron. Show her how much you love her.â You drop your hand to his shoulder for a squeeze. âYouâve gotten even kinder since she was born. Did you notice?âÂ
It seems youâre feeling sentimental as well tonight. Your long bath has washed away the stress of a longer day.Â
âOkay,â he says, too in love with your smile to disagree, âbut just one.âÂ
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner blurb#aaron hotchner drabble#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner fanfic#aaron hotchner fanfiction#hotch x reader#hotch#hotch x you#hotch blurb#hotch drabble#criminal minds
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Scars â A Joel Miller/Reader Oneshot
âYou have them too.â You say, tracing your fingertips along the pale scar that sits at the side of his head, disappearing into thick dark hair. âYes,â He replies, his voice thick, accent dragging out the vowel. âShow me.â
Summary: When Joel stumbles into the kitchen at 2am, restless and tense, he doesn't expect to find you at the table, nursing a cold mug of tea. He certainly doesn't expect to end up tracing the scars on your skin, explaining how he got his, your hands mapping the contors of each other's old wounds until something new emerges.
Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, mutual pining, kind of angsty but also fluffy?, descriptions of old injuries, explicit sex, PIV, fingering, dirty talk, body worship, flirting, yearning, mentions of alcohol.
Word Count: 3.3k
Itâs late, and the rest of Jackson is asleep.
A single street lamp lights the dark kitchen, casting a soft orange glow over the table and your half empty mug. The tea is long-since cold, but you keep your hands wrapped around it anyway, trying to soak up the last of its heat. Thereâs a microwave behind you, and a coffee machine, and enough hot water to fill several baths, but after twenty years of surviving by fire light and camping stoves, these modern conveniences still seem like the technology of your childhood, distant and unrealistic. And so the tea remains cold.
Youâre not sure youâll ever get used to the normality of Jackson: the routine and order and kindness that seeps into every interaction, every town meeting and evening out. Itâs been four months since you arrived â limping and half-dead, frozen almost solid by the bitter Wyoming winter â at the townâs gates.
And now youâre inside on a mild spring night, sharing a house with a man and his not-daughter, healthy and almost whole again. The town council were apologetic about housing you with Joel and Ellie: it was the only house with a spare bedroom at the time, but in truth it had been a relief. There was something overwhelmingly comforting about being around other people again, sleeping only a thin wall away from another human being, sharing meals and chores.
Joelâs quiet and serious most of the time, but you see cracks appearing in his hard exterior when heâs with Ellie, or his brother Tommy. Something of the man that existed before the world ended. And more recently heâs started opening up to you, too; rolling his eyes at you behind Ellieâs back when she swears or insults houseguests, chuckling at your bad jokes, letting his guard down when he gets home from a hard dayâs construction work, allowing you to make him hot drinks and massage his sore shoulders.
Youâre careful not to push anything too far, but the slow roll into familiarity with Joel has bred something less familial, too. Something wanting and churning that settles deep in your belly when youâre around him. It makes you want to press yourself against him, settle yourself in the crook of his shoulder, lick the thick tendons of his neck. Whether he feels the same is a mystery. Heâs older than you by a couple of decades, not that that matters to you â youâre both adults â but he maintains a distance. Lets you massage his shoulders but never makes a sound while you do it. Holds the door open for you but keeps a respectful distance when you walk side-by-side through town. Allows you to rest your feet in his lap in the evenings on the sofa, but doesnât touch them, or acknowledge them. Youâve heard him moving around in the night, restless and fidgety, but he never comes to your room on those long dark nights seeking comfort or companionship.
He's been quiet since he went to bed several hours earlier on this particular night, which is why itâs a shock when the kitchen light flickers on, illuminating Joelâs broad silhouette in the doorway. You scramble out of the chair onto your feet, heart thumping. He holds a hand up, calmingly, doesnât move as your eyes adjust to the light.
âFucking hell, Joel. You scared the shit out of me.â
âSorry,â He takes a step into the kitchen, feet bare on the terracotta tiles.
Heâs still in his clothes from today, dark jeans under a thin grey tee, both slightly crumpled as though heâs slept in them. He always does. Undoubtedly itâs the same ritual that makes him keep a pistol on his bedside table, leave a packed go-bag by the front door; the same anxiety that casts dark shadows under his eyes, fuels his insomnia and maintains his habitual whiskey drinking. Heâs ready for anything, always, because heâs been through shit and he thinks at any moment itâll happen again. You understand. Itâs why youâre in the kitchen at 2am, cold tea clutched between shaking hands.
âCouldnât sleep?â You ask, as he opens a high cupboard and pulls out a tumbler.
You move around him, tip the dregs of your tea down the sink.
âSomething like that,â He replies, voice croaky.
He pours the whiskey out into the glass, swirls it in thick fingers and then rests back against the kitchen counter opposite you, eyes finally finding yours. They hover for a moment on your face, dark and penetrating, then flick to one shoulder, the other, down your arm.
You keep them covered, normally. Wear long sleeves even in the heat of summer, never undress around anyone. Youâve avoided the swimming pond that opened three weeks ago, even though the water looked heavenly in the warm April weather, unwillingly to bear the scars that litter your body to the town, afraid theyâll show the community who you really are, reveal the terrible things youâve done to survive. But unlike Joel you donât have a habit of sleeping in your clothes, and the thin vest and shorts youâre wearing now reveals those long-hidden scars to him in the bright kitchen light.
The bullet wound is the worst one; a puckered, deep purple starburst across one shoulder, skin wrought into something alien and terrible. Itâs this one that his gaze linger on, dark eyes making heat roll up your spine. His fist is gripping the whiskey glass so tightly that the tips of his fingers and knuckles are white with the strain of it.
âTheyâre awful, I know.â You say into the silence.
âWhat? No- God, no. Theyâre not.â A pause, his eyes flicking away from yours, over to the far wall, back across. âIâve got âem, too. We all have.â
You scoff at this. Move your hand up, place it on your shoulder. His hand twitches where it rests on the countertop, but he doesnât move.
âYou cover them.â He says. Itâs not a question, but you feel like you have to answer anyway.
âYes.â A breath, shaky on the exhale. âTheyâre ugly.â âNo.â His voice is firm, commanding in the quiet kitchen. Despite yourself, you feel heat pooling between your thighs and you fidget, pressing them together, crossing your feet. The movement makes his eye dart down to your bare legs. You watch the apple of his throat as he swallows thickly, eyes trailing up to the hem of your shorts. Thereâs a scar there, too, bisecting your upper thigh. Thin and white, a reminder of a long ago incident with barbed wire.
âTheyâre notâŠâ His voice trails off, eyes searching your face. âNothing on you is ugly. Not even the scars. Especially not the scars.â
âNo?â
âNo.â He shifts, puts the whiskey glass down on the counter behind him and lifts his hand to your shoulder. Fingertips trace the edge of the bullet scar, and you feel goosepimples rise in their wake despite the warmth of the kitchen. He runs his hand up past its end, to your throat, along your collar bone and to the other arm. The scars there are paler, older. Shrapnel and grazes from a fall. Each one his fingertips trace reverently, as though theyâre a holy text written across your skin. When he reaches the last, the one that loops around your wrist, the indent of a handcuff, youâre sure your heart is thumping so loudly he must be able to hear it, too. Slick is pooling between your thighs, hot and wet against the thin shorts youâre wearing.
âThere are more,â You say, so quietly that itâs almost a whisper.
âShow me.â
Itâs like a dance. You pull off your vest and Joelâs hand follows the curve of your waist, thumb dipping to press the small coin-shaped scar just below your rib cage. You sigh and he lets his hand run over your ribs, fingertips finding the spaces between like piano keys. When he reaches the curve of your bare breast he pauses, the weight of your flesh resting in the valley between his index finger and thumb. You donât say anything, just lean into him, holding his eye contact, the pleasure and warmth of his hand making you bold. He moves slowly, carefully, rolling the bud of your nipple between his finger and thumb, pinching just so, pleasure blossoming in your chest, down your spine and to your cunt.
âThis okay?â He asks, eyes flicking up from his hand to your face, tracking the pull of your eyebrows as they pitch together, the move of your mouth as you answer him with a shaky exhale.
âWhat about this one?â He asks, hand leaving your breast to trace across the scar that laces up your thigh under the hem of your shorts. âCan I?â
Youâre not sure what heâs asking but you know that you want him to, want him to do whatever it is heâs asking so you nod. His hand grip your waist to lift you, setting you down on the kitchen counter. You grasp at his shoulders, the solid breadth of him hard under your hands. The counter is cold against the back of your legs, but before you can complain his hot hand is wrapped back around your thigh, thumb tracing the scar there again, fingertips inching up to the apex of your legs. He moves to stand between your open legs, still keeping a few inches of distance between you, the extra height of the counter making your eyes level. His burn into your face as he slips his hand higher still, fingers seeking out the wet heat of you, dipping inside, gathering slick and gliding it up to your clit.
âJoel,â You say into the aching gap between your lips and his.
âYouâre fucking perfect,â He says, the words hot on your mouth, his breath mingling with your needy sighs. âAll of you, you understand?â
You can only nod into his shoulder, head dropping to rest against the broad heft of it, his fingers thrumming a steady rhythm against your clit that has pleasure ratcheting up inside you. Youâre still in your tiny sleep shorts, Joelâs hand forcing the crotch aside to palm at your drenched cunt. He slips two thick fingers into you, presses his thumb to your clit, and that tips you over the edge, pleasure coursing through you like fire.
He talks you through it, keeps up the firm press of his fingers, praises falling from his lips like prayers.
Good girl, thatâs it, such a good fucking girl for me, taking what you need, so fucking perfect.
Itâs only then, as you come down from the high, that he finally kisses you, tilting your head up with a gentle hand and fitting his lips to yours. Theyâre soft and dry, plush against your own. He slides his tongue against the seam of your lips, into the wet heat of your mouth, pulls back, before driving forward again, breathless and frantic. You thread your hands into the hair at the base of his neck, tugging him against you, teeth clashing in your mutual desperation. His pulls his fingers from your wet heat, smears your slick up your sides as his palms your breasts, his earlier gentleness gone. But when you slip a hand between your bodies, seeking out the hard length of him in his jeans, he pulls back. His eyes are dark despite the bright kitchen light, pupils eating up the thin sliver of brown at the edges, but thereâs a reticence there.
âYou have them too.â You say, tracing your fingertips along the pale scar that sits at the side of his head, disappearing into thick dark hair.
âYes,â He replies, his voice thick, accent dragging out the vowel.
âShow me.â
He steps back, out of the circle of your legs, pulls at the neck of his t-shirt and drags it up, over his head and off. His eyes are fixed on you, watching you as you take in the broad bulk of him, the sloping plains of his shoulders and chest down to a softer stomach. Heâs all strength: hard where youâre soft, his scars stretched across thick muscle and tanned flesh. Thereâs one at his side that canters a jagged line across his stomach, and thatâs where your hand goes, holding his waist to rest your thumb against its uneven edge. It looks fairly fresh, no more than a couple of years old, still red.
âWhatâs this from?â You ask.
âI was stabbed,â He replies, âwhile I was with Ellie.â
âIt looks like it was bad.â
âWell, she stitched it up, so,â He smiles, a hint of mischief returning to his eyes, growing bolder as your hands map his chest and stomach.
âAnd this one?â An old one, hardly noticeable in the light, to the right of his belly button.
âAppendicitis, when I was twelve.â
âThese?â A collection of four or five small white gash marks, peppered across his shoulders and along his collarbone.
âMakeshift grenade.â He says. âWent off in my hand.â
You lean forward, press your lips to the first of the scars and kiss it, drag your lips along to the second, and then the third. At the fourth you let your tongue dart out, tasting the skin at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, salty and warm. He stands stock still as you do so, hands resting at your hips, fingertips gripping the flesh there tight enough to leave bruises. He sighs at the feel of your tongue against his skin, the insistent press of your mouth to his collarbone, your teeth, scraping at the tendon that jolts in his neck.
This time, when you reach for the button of his jeans he helps you, pops the first button, drags the zipper down and pushes them off his hips, revealing thick thighs corded with muscle, dusted with dark hair. He kicks the jeans the rest of the way off, steps forward again into the circle of your hips, letting you knead the thick flesh of his ass, pull him against you so that his hot length is pressed to the crotch of your shorts, two pieces of thin cotton the only thing separating you.
You kiss up the column of his throat, press your teeth to his ear lobe, and are rewarded with a soft groan that sends pleasure sparking up your spine again, cunt clenching down on nothing. His cock twitches against you when you lick a stripe along the underside of his jaw. You fit your lips back to his. This kiss is sloppy and uncoordinated, teeth clashing, his strong nose pressed to yours, one of his hands fisting in your hair, gripping tight at the ponytail at the base of your neck, holding you to him. You shuffle on the counter, pull your shorts off and down to join his jeans and shirt on the tiled floor.
âTake them off,â You say into his mouth, needy fingers sliding into the waistband of his briefs, seeking the length of him.
He does as you ask, bending to push them down, cock dipping and slapping up against his stomach as he frees it. Heâs big, thick and beautiful, veins standing out against the shaft, precum beading at the tip. He hisses into your open mouth when you wrap your fist around him and stroke slowly up and down, thumb seeking out his slit, spreading his arousal and yours over it and down his length.
âJesus, darlinâ,â He sighs against the side of your neck, stubble rough against you, his hands seeking out the weight of your tits again, pressing open mouthed kisses against your skin.
You pull him back against you, press the blunt head of him to your slick entrance and watch him watch himself sink inside you, inch by inch, stretching you open. The burn of it is intoxicating, his thick length opening you up, pressing inside deliciously, white-hot pleasure blossoming up through your body.
âFeels so good, Joel,â You tell him as he shakes against you, bottoming out and dragging himself out only to press back inside.
âPussyâs so goddamn perfect,â He says, his voice almost cracking with the effort of it.
âPlease, Joel,â you hiss, âharder, please.â
The sound he makes then is animalistic, something between a grunt and a growl, teeth clenched, jaw pressed hard to your neck. He tightens his grip on your hips, anchors you to the counter and starts pounding into you. The strength of him is something to behold, his hips snapping into yours, muscles of his back shifting and clenching beneath your grasping hands.
âSo fucking good,â he groans, âwanna stay inside you for the rest of my fucking life, darlinâ.â
You donât know how heâs so articulate; itâs all you can do to hold on to his shoulders and let him fuck you, whimpers and moans pouring from your open lips as he does, the slap of his hips against yours filthy in the otherwise silent house. When he slows his thrusts again he pulls back from you to watch where youâre joined, eyes dark, perspiration beading on his forehead. Thereâs a vein in his neck thatâs pulsing visibly, a drop of sweat trickling down beside it, charting a course through patchy stubble. He reaches between your bodies, splays his hand over your mound and presses his thumb to your clit.
âYes, Joel, please, God.â
âI can feel how close you are, darlinââ He says, âcan feel you gripping me so tight.â
He strums his thumb over the swollen bundle of nerves, drawing small, tight circles that have you seeing stars within seconds, tension coiling inside you, ratcheting up until it breaks on a hard thrust of his hips, his cock hitting that spongy place inside you that sends pleasure right down to your toes. You come hard, fingernails digging into the hard flesh of his shoulders, Joelâs mouth clamped to your throat, teeth worrying the skin there, repeating the same phrase over and over as you come down.
There it is, there it is, good girl, Iâve got you.
He thrusts lazily into you as you slowly relax again, little aftershocks continuing for several long minutes, the blunt head of him hitting that same spot inside you again and again. You can tell heâs close now, his hands shaking where theyâre gripping your hips again, face set in concentration, squeezing his eyes shut every few thrusts as though heâs desperately trying to hold himself back.
âLet go, Joel. Please,â You whisper, and he hisses through his teeth, pulls you bodily forward on the counter so that the angle changes and he can drive up into you, his pace quickening again.
âJesus fucking Christ, darlinââ He rasps, thrusting into you once- twice- three more times.
He pulls out then, fist gripping the base of his cock as he paints your stomach and cunt with his cum, hot and thick. His face is a rapture, eyes pitch black, teeth bared with pleasure and need, the strong set of his jaw holding together what little restraint he has left.
He kisses you again after, drags kitchen roll from the holder to clean you up, presses sweet lips to your cheeks and temples, down your neck, across your chest, like heâs trying to taste the ecstasy thatâs written across your heated skin.
Outside, dawn is quickly approaching. The weak rays of sunlight that filter into the kitchen illuminate the tan glow of Joelâs face and paint the scars on your bodies in pale yellow light. You donât think anythingâs ever looked more beautiful.
#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller smut#joel x reader#joel x you#the last of us fic#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#pedro pascal#joel miller fanfic
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Cosmo Tips đŠ
Eddie Munson x fem!reader
Masterlist
Summary: On Halloween, Eddie finds Cosmo's "Top Ten Kisses to Spice Up Your Love Life."
Word Count: ~3.4k
Warnings: So much kissing, suggestiveness, Eddie is so in love with you
A/n: I'm glad I'm back for another Eddie Halloween fic đ He's so goofy, I had to write this idea. And of course, include spider-man đ·ïžđžïž
âEddie?â you muttered out of the side of your mouth, your lips still occupied with kissing his. You watched his eyebrow raise in question, which â in any other situation â you shouldnât have been able to see while kissing.Â
âI donât think,â you began in between another kiss, looking at the soft brown of his eyes, âthis oneâs quite working.â
Eddie pulled away with a sigh, pushing his hair out of his face. He reached for the open magazine sitting on the couch next to you both. You just gave him a soft smile, a closed one, while rubbing your hand along his bicep.
âIt says right. here.â he told you with a sigh, pointing his finger on the magazine article, âthat kissing with your eyes open is supposed to, uh⊠âburn a fiery desire in your belly.â Are you feeling a fiery desire?â
Your mouth flattened into a straight line, your head tilted to the side. âMaybe a sooty ember? It sorta felt like we were having a staring contest.â You leaned into him, resting along the crook of his neck.
âYeah, and I was winning it,â he said, making a snort leave your throat. You felt the muscles of his face curve into a brief smile as he grabbed the magazine.
âYou know, Iâm not sure we should be taking romantic advice from Cosmo, Eds.â You muttered the words against the collar of his shirt, and after the other failed attempts, it certainly wasnât the first time youâd said it.Â
Eddie had taken the Cosmopolitan magazine from the doctorâs office and excitedly told you about all the gossip and sex tips in it. And of course, he needed a volunteer to really see how well these tips worked.
The first one, which had you on the kitchen counter with Eddie standing between your legs, had bruised your ego a bit â the unsexy attempts to jump onto the annoyingly high counters and the crumbs sticking to your thighs had not inspired any fiery desires. And the second one extinguished it all together, where you both held ice cubes in your mouths so your lips and tongues would be cold while kissing. Except your teeth were way too sensitive for the ice, and Eddie had nearly choked on his ice cube.
And kissing with your eyes open hadnât reignited anything. You let out a sigh. âThey make these things look a lot sexier in movies. And easier.â
Eddie continued reading down the list. As your hand moved to his leg, you began running your palm along his thigh. The soft material of his sweatpants were warm from his body heat. Maybe you could salvage the momentâŠ
âOkay, babe, one last one. I think we could make it work,â he told you, pulling out of your grasp and standing up.
Or not.Â
Slowly, you stood up after him, folding your arms over your chest. You watched him read the tip a second and then a third time. You found yourself unable to hold a laugh back. âAnd I think that you owe me big after all this.â
Eddie faced you, grabbing your wrists and uncrossing your arms. He placed them over his shoulders before his hands went to your waist. The weight of him felt heavy against you, the warmth from him almost intoxicating. He walked you backward, one careful step at a time. His mouth hovered right in front of yours.Â
You arched into him, finally finding relief rather than following that stupid list. Silently, you begged him to just close the gap. The tip of his nose brushed along yours. You were seconds away from just kissing him yourself when your back collided with something hard, your head hitting it a moment later.
âOh, shit,â Eddie said, panicked and eyes wide.
Meanwhile, a long groan fell from your mouth. Your hand reached back to hold your head, feeling a dull throbbing radiate along your skull. Eddie pulled you into his arms, walking the two of you back to the couch. You realized that youâd been leaning against the wall of your apartment.
âAre you okay? Do you need any ice?â he asked, pulling away. He gently pushed against your hand, silently asking whether he can take a look at the back of your head.
You let him. âIâm fine, just a little dazed,â you laughed out, wincing slightly when his fingers brushed along the spot where a bruise was likely to form.
âSorry,â he muttered as he continued looking.
âWas this another one of Cosmoâs greatest sex tips? Cause I donât think head injuries are the smoothest way to get someone all hot and bothered.â
Eddie finished checking you over and pulled you back into his embrace. âIâm throwing away that stupid magazine. Maybe Iâll burn it. Or rip it to shreds.â
âYou could rip it up and then burn it,â you offered.
âGod, youâre a genius, baby.â
You answered with a distracted hum. The rise and fall of Eddieâs chest against yours made the ache in your skull a little less painful. âMaybe Cosmoâs tips are spicing up our sex life a bit too much.â
âMaybe,â he said, trailing his hand up to cup your jaw, âComsoâs tips are actually too bullshit for our sex life.â Drawing you back to look him in your eyes, he traced his thumb along your cheek before pressing his lips to yours. You leaned into their softness and warmth, letting your mind turn blank.
Until your landline began to ring. Eddie pulled away, grimacing at the interruption. âYou alright if I go get it?â Eddie asked you, dragging his gaze across your face.
You nodded your head. âOnly if I donât have to fight any more walls tonight.â
âDeal.â His lips pressed a kiss to your nose, rising from the couch and pressing another to your forehead.Â
Resting back against the couch, you listened to him answer and talk to whoever was on the other side. Though it didnât take long to figure out who it was.
âChrist, Harrington. Thatâs what you interrupted my makeout sesh for?â he asked into the receiver.
Your eyes widened, your body shooting forward as you sent a shocked look across the room. With gritted teeth, you admonished him. âEddie!â You mouthed at him to stop as his cheshire grin widened.
âOh, so now I canât talk about my beautiful, amazing, hot, intelligent, sexy girlfriend anymore?â He put his hand on his hip, shaking his head. âWhereâs the humanity in that? Steve, put this poor man out of his misery.â
His eyebrows slightly furrowed as he listened to Steve, the tip of his tongue sticking out in focus. âOkay, so I can talk about her? Great,â he said, settling in as he leaned against the wall. âLet me start with her ethereal soul capable of all things good in this world followed by the way no man deserves to even perceive her divine body. Then letâs go with her rockinâ pair of-â
âEddie!â you said again, cutting him off before he could talk about that. And you werenât the only one, hearing the loud interruption from Steve on the other side of the phone.
âEyes! Her rockinâ pair of eyes. Get your mind out of the gutter,â Eddie finished, mock disappointment in his voice.Â
You couldnât help but roll your ârockinâ pair of eyesâ at him as that smirk covered his face again. You watched as he sighed and said, âYeah, yeah. Got it, Mama Harrington.â
After hanging up, Eddie made his way back, flopping his body onto yours. His arms wrapped tight around you as he shoved his face in the crook of your neck. He snuggled closer, and the hum from his throat vibrated along your chest.
âSo are you going to tell me what Steve said?â you asked, rubbing a hand down his back.
âOh!â Eddie said, as if heâd already forgotten. âHe said to be at his place by eight sharp since weâre bringing the snacks.â
You hummed, slowly nodding. âLike the snacks you bought for this Halloween party and then promptly finished by the following morning?â
âThose would be the onesâŠâ
âSo,â you began, narrowing your eyes at him as he avoided the point, âwe need to get ready now so we can swing by the grocery store and make it on time then, right?â
The groan Eddie let out rumbled from deep in his chest. But you simply raised your hand and smacked it down right on his ass. âCome on. Go face the consequences of your actions.â
Slowly, he raised himself from you, his expression sinking into a grimace from a few inches away. âYou were a lot cuter when we were making out.â
Despite his protests, he pressed a quick kiss to your lips before pushing himself up and making his way to the bedroom. A stupidly happy grin covered your face as you got ready as well. It sat there as you pulled your outfit on and as you adjusted the red wig on your head.
In the bathroom mirror, you saw the door creak open to reveal flashes of red and blue and black. Slowly, you turned, eyeing him up and down. âWell hey there, Spidey.â
Clad in a Spider-Man costume, customized by the man himself, Eddie walked over to you. With his hands on your hips, he said, âHey there, Mary Jane.â
Your fingers crawled up to his neck, your thumb tracing back and forth across his cheek. You leaned in and kissed him through the mask. But as you opened your mouth to tell him that it was time to go, his fingers grasped the edge of the mask.
Eddie had barely pulled it off before bringing you in close and kissing you again. His breath came heavy against your cheek, his fingers pressing into your skin. As much as it pained you, your hands came to push gently at his chest.
âEasy there, tiger,â you breathed out with a grin. You reluctantly slipped out of his grasp, grabbing his hand to pull him toward the front door.Â
âEasy there?â he asked in disbelief from behind. âThereâs nothing easy about how you look right now. In fact, if you ask me, things back here are getting pretty hard.â
You shot a glare back his way as the two of you walked to the van. âHard like the wall you shoved my head into?â you jokingly asked, thinking again that there wouldnât be any hard problem had you two not taken kissing tips from Cosmo.
Eddie reached his other hand to caress the back of your head. âBabe, I will spend the rest of my days redeeming myself. You know Iâd fight that wall for you.â
You giggled, squeezing his hand before climbing into the van. âOr you could just get us to the store and Steveâs place on time,â you offered with a sweet smile, buckling your seatbelt. âOh, and love me forever. Thereâs that part too.â
He beamed at you, his grin crinkling the corners of his eyes. âNow that I can do,â he said.Â
He held your gaze as his fingers reached for the radio dial, cranking the Black Sabbath song playing even louder. You merely leaned back against your seat, watching him shake his head and drum his fingers on the steering wheel while he drove.Â
And after you had a bag full of every kind of junk food to exist, the two of you walked up to Steveâs apartment. You continued to adjust your shirt, your jeans, your wig all the way to his door until Eddie grabbed your wrist with a gentle hand.
Even from behind the mask heâd just put back on, you knew the lovesick expression he wore. The one that told you everything you needed to hear.
You only looked away when the door swung open, revealing Steve in a pilotâs jacket and aviator sunglasses.Â
âLooking fly there, Mav,â you told him, offering the bag of snacks to him. Meanwhile, Eddie posed beside you with his hands out as if he were shooting webs at Steve.
Nodding his head at your words, Steve replied, âYou two nerds donât look too bad yourselves,â before inviting you both in. His place, except for the counter where he began setting up the food, was covered in decorations â everything from spider webs to orange and purple lights to rows of pumpkins. You recognized the jack-o-lantern designs from last weekend, when all of you spent the day carving and throwing pumpkin seeds at one another.Â
Eddieâs intricate design of the Hellfire Club logo sat next to your carving of a cat wearing a witchâs hat, which sat next to Steveâs unfortunate attempt at a skeletonâs face â but the teeth had fallen off, leaving the skull looking a bit gummy even without any gums.Â
And as you heard Nancy and Robinâs voices from the next room over, you could take a good guess as to who helped him decorate (and forced him to display his failed jack-o-lantern). And as if on cue, Nancy came out in a similar looking leather flight jacket and aviator glasses â Charlie from Top Gun you guessed. But what threw you into a fit of giggles was Robin coming out in a full flight suit, her hair piled on top of head to look short, and a fake blonde mustache.Â
From behind you, Eddie said, âAre you a porn star playing a pilot?â
âSheâs Goose,â you loudly whispered to him.
Robin crossed her arms over her chest. âTop Gun was the only idea Steve wasnât a total wuss about for our group costume.â
âYeah, well you wanted to go as Pumpkinhead, Robin,â Steve shot back while Robin adjusted her fake mustache.
Not long after, you could hear the gaggle of kids outside the door â along with a heavy sigh from Johnathan as you swung the door open to reveal him standing surrounded by the kids. Their costumes looked familiar, especially Dustinâs Hawaiian shirt, but you couldnât put your finger on it.Â
In an instant, the kids pushed past you, talking over one another about candy already. Meanwhile, you cocked your head at Johnathan still standing there â in a gray tank top with the sleeves cut off and red bandana.
âThe Goonies,â Johnathan muttered, his voice clearly tired from wrangling the kids.Â
You made a quiet âahâ noise, raising your eyebrows. You give him a kind smile, letting him in and pointing him toward the drinks.Â
As you helped Steve finish putting everything together, endless laughter filled in the gaps of silence. You watched the smiles etched onto every personâs face and couldnât help grinning in return. âMonster Mashâ played in the background, Robin was ranting about the themes of different âfinal girls,â the kids were throwing M&Ms into each other's mouths across the room, and you were grabbing a handful of candy to keep you going for the night.
And the party continued like that â blurring between catching up and laughing so hard your stomach began to ache. Or maybe that was from the obscene amount of candy you ended up eating. You couldnât find it in yourself to care, not as the smell of popcorn filled the air and the TV lit up.
The group had settled on â unsurprisingly â Ghostbusters once again. The theme song started while everyone gathered on and around the couch, which included Mike and Lucas fighting over one of the many available blankets.Â
But you walked over to Steve pouring the popcorn into large bowls and whispered, âHey, do you mind if I hang out in your room for a minute?â
He turned to you, his eyebrows furrowing for a second. âCourse. You okay?â
Waving him off, you said, âYeah, just need a little break from all the commotion.â
A quiet huff left his mouth as he shook his head. âDonât blame you. Not withââ his head whipped to the side. âDustin, put that down!â
You just grabbed a handful of popcorn before backing away slowly. You giggled as you crept away to Steveâs room down the hall. Keeping the door ajar, you let out a long sigh. You pushed the wig hair out of your face and sunk down to the floor, your back resting against the frame of his bed. You leaned your head back and listened to the muffled sounds of the party.
Quietly snacking on the popcorn, you sat there enjoying the time alone. And just as your jaw was beginning to unclench, you heard the door creak open. You cracked an eye open, bracing yourself for more commotion, but peaked over to find Spider-man walking over to you.Â
âYou left,â Eddie said, quite astutely, the words nearly coming out as a whine. You closed your eyes again as he climbed onto Steveâs bed behind you.
âYouâre a little needy, you know that?â you muttered with a grin, no bite behind your words. He settled on his back beside you, his head barely hanging off the edge.
He bumped his temple against yours. âBut you love me.â
Your smile widened, soft and sincere. âYeah,â you breathed out. Humming softly, you leaned further into him. Loose curls of his tickled your cheek as you tilted your head his way.
The weight on the mattress shifted again. When you opened your eyes, you were face to face with an upside down Eddie, who had scooted his head farther off the mattress. It almost felt like the air around you both had shifted, electrified.
Your gaze flitted between his warm eyes and soft lips, his breath ghosting across your skin. His hand moved to rest along your cheek, the tips of his gloved fingers holding your neck.Â
He still made your stomach flip when he looked at you like this. Like nothing else existed in his eyes but you.Â
All you could do was whisper, âHi.â
A slight smile crossed his face. âHi,â he whispered back. And thankfully, he pressed his lips to yours so you didnât have to search your clouded brain for words.
His touch left a trail of heat in its wake, from his mouth to his nose nudging yours to his palm cradling your jaw. The feeling of kissing him upside down was different, but with each push and pull of him against you, the more you melted into it.Â
Your hand curled into his hair, your grip growing tighter as your breathing grew heavier. His tongue slipped past your lips. You felt the quick beating of his pulse against your skin, and every inch of your body sparked alive.
A near whine fell from you when Eddie pulled away, but it quickly turned into a soft sigh when you felt him move down. From this angle, he easily kissed along your neck. You tilted your head back to give him more access.
âEddieâŠâ you whispered out, and you swore you felt a grin against your skin. When you couldnât take anymore and you began pulling him toward you off the bed, a loud chorus of laughter erupted from the living room â making you jump and reminding you that the outside world existed.
Eddie nearly landed on you, a quiet groan leaving his mouth as he hit the ground. Quick breaths still fell from your mouth, your tongue licking your lips in his absence.Â
With a slight scowl, Eddie rubbed his back. But it quickly disappeared when you replaced your hand with his and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
âSoâŠâ Eddie said with that distracting smile of his, âdid that âburn a fiery desire in your bellyâ?â
You nudged him with your arm, playfully rolling your eyes. âYouâre ridiculous.â
âThat wasnât a no, sweetheart,â he pointed out, his voice deeper than usual. And he wasnât wrong, you thought, while your body still calmed itself â which was never an easy task with him so close.
You kissed him again, slowly this time, to savor the feel of him. The hungry look he gave you as you pulled away said that he was going to stoke that fire until it burned you alive. And you were happy to let him, but Dustinâs voice called from the living room, telling you two to come back or youâd miss the best part.Â
Hand-in-hand, you two made your way back, sitting on the floor with your back surrounded by your friends. The movie and company were good, but you found yourself happily watching Eddie the entire night instead.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson x female reader#stranger things
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Can I have human Alastor x reader smut n like theyâre both virgins n itâs their wedding night like newly weds n he eats her out for first time n they fuccccc n like super fluffy n hand holding n i love yous n both are nervous n shy n adorable pleeeeeaaaase im begging
I almost missed this request but its so cute!!!!
You looked at yourself in the mirror, trying to get your nerves together.Â
You had changed into a short silk nightie. Your lacy garters clung to your plush thighs, holding up the thigh highs. You had pulled your robe over it and took a deep breathe.
Tonight was the night.
You had just married the man of your dreams.
The wedding and reception was beautiful; your families danced, sang and drank to their hearts content.
Your aunties had teased you about your wedding night, making rather vulgar comments about how exciting your night was going to be. Your mother had snuck and packed lingerie into your luggage for this moment.
âOh honey that man there? I know youâre gonna have a wild night.â
âYoure gonna be giving us some little ones by the time yâall come backâ
âdearest remember men like it when you doâŠâ
âOh I canât to hear everything when you get backâ
You had half a mind to change and just put on one of your nightgowns, but you wanted to be sexy.Â
It was your wedding night after all.
And you wanted to look good for your husband.
You gathered your nerves and made your way to the living room.
Alastor wasnât there.
You padded over and poked your head into the kitchen and found the man pouring himself a drink.
âmind pouring me one on the rocks?â You said, making him turn around at the sound of your voice.
Heat pumped to your cheeks as his eyes widened, you held your giggle as you made your way to stand in front of him.
You feigned innocence as you wrapped your arms around his neck, sighing as he kissed your forehead and handing you a glass of whiskey.
You took a sip, nose scrunching at the taste but smiled as Alastor clinked his glass with yours.
âTo us my dearâ he said chugging the liquor. You giggled and really took in your surroundings.
You hopped on the kitchen island and sighed âI canât believe we are married. Oh my stars Alastor we-were really marriedâ you covered your smiling face, feet swaying.
Alastor let out a laugh, coming to stand between your thighs, hands on your waist, smiling at you âyes we are. And I am the happiest man alive dollâ
He caught sight of the sheer material on your foot, his brow quirked, making you smile slightly. His hands fingered with the knot of your robe, loosening it and his jaw went slack.
âMy momma seems to want us to give her grandbabies soon as possibleâ you giggled as he toyed with the garter, trailing his finger along your skin.
âThat can certainly be arrangedâ he mumbled to himself, opening the robe to see what you were hiding .
Alastor felt heat rush straight to his cock as he took you in;
The silk garment clung to your figure, hugging your soft curves and making your skin look so soft, your garters teasing him, making him want to use his teeth to rip it off.
You looked gorgeous.
His fingers tapped along your skin, he pushed his hips into the counter as he leaned into you, burying his face in your neck.
The entirety of your courtship Alastor had been a gentleman and did not even try to indulge in you.Â
Sure there was heavy petting and intense kissingâŠ
but this oh this was different
The two of you were married now.
It was now acceptable and even encouraged that the two of you would be connected at the hip.
Large hands danced along your thighs and slipped under your nightie to follow the garter straps.
A low groan met your ears as Alastorâs fingers dug into your soft flesh, his teeth nipped at your ear âNo panties doll? Oooh my dear always a vixenâ
Your cheeks heat up as you feel his thumb graze the slit of your soft lips, rubbing soft circles on your clit.
âA-Al?â You whined as he littered your neck and shoulder in kisses, nipping at the delicate flesh as his thumb pressed onto the bud that made you tingle.
He hummed before pulling you closer to the edge of the island âhow lucky am I to have such a pretty wife?â He drawled, taking his free hand and hooking his finger under your chin and pressing his lips to yours.
âA pretty wife I adore, worship, and would do anything for.âÂ
You keened as he deepened the kiss, head dizzy with pleasure.
Alastor pulled away and chuckled at your lidded dazed eyes.
You let out a squeal as he heaved you over his shoulder and made his way through the estate. Your breath caught in your throat as you watch your husband remove his shirt, leaving his chest bare.
Your husband was not a very large man no, instead he was tall and lanky. Lean muscle rippled under his flesh and you bit your lips as your eyes roamed over the scars that littered his skin.
Heat pulsed between your legs.
Alastor caught you ogling and flashed you a smile as he crouched between your legs.
Your nerves twisted as he nuzzled the skin of your thigh
âWe donât have to do anything if you donât want darlinâ he reassured you, running his hands over your legs.
âN-No its okay. I ju- i want to experience the whole wedding night thing. And with you. I want us to explore this new thing together.â You tried to focus else where, pouting, making him smile.
Contrary to what many people thought, Alastor, the dazzling radio host, was not as experienced as one would think.
Not a womanizer, though he looked like it. The old handsome bastard
Alastor slithered up your body, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers, bringing your hand to his lips, thumb fiddling with your shiny wedding band.
âIf I do anything that makes you uncomfortable just tell me and we can stop ok?â He said with a serious look.
You nodded and pulled his head to yours, connecting your lips. You wrapped your arms around his neck, scratching his scalp and massaging his bare shoulders.
The two of you just stayed like that; happily sucking at each other faces, tongues sweeping over each other and pecking lips.
Alastor nipped at your swollen lips, nudging your chin to expose your neck to him âI want to try something dearestâ he said softly, making you tilt your head.
He slide down until he was kneeling on the floor, his hands on top of your thighs and head wedged between your legs.
You watch his head dip under your nightie and tensed up feeling his breath on your mound.
He brushed his nose against your clit, mouth ghosting over your slit. Your lips formed an âOâ as he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked!
âOh!â You gasped, back arching.
Alastorâs tongue swirled around the bud, alternating between licking and sucking on the bud.
His tongue dipped down to tease your quivering hole.
âA-Al!?â You whimpered, hands fisting the covers.
The man propped your legs atop his broad shoulders to angle you better, to slot his mouth against your cunt.
His hands gripped your waist to keep you from withering away from him.
The sound soft suckling and your gasps filled the room.
With a slight pop, Alasto released your throbbing clit and licked a strip up your slit.
He let out a chuckle âOoh ma cherie you taste as sweet as I always thoughtâ he lifted his head and smiled at you, chin glistening in your juices.
Your face was flushed as you panted. Your fingers pulled at your nightie until the garment was tossed to the side, leaving you bare and only in your stockings.
Alastorâs cock twitched at the sight of your full, perky tits.
He shimmied out of his loose pants, climbing up your body to capture your lips. His hands pulled your legs around his waist as he grinded his hard cock into your wet heat.
You moaned into his mouth as you lifted your hips into his, clit catching onto the tip of his clothed cock.
âA-Al i wantâŠI want to please you as wellâ
He hummed as his drifted towards your chest, teeth tugging at your nipples before enveloping the mound into his mouth.
You lightly pushed against him to sit up. Lips never parting, you fondled his cock, bristling as he groaned into your mouth and cock hardening within your hand.
âI-Inside p-please Alâ you begged, pressing your head against his.
It wasnât as easy as your aunties had tried to tell you. The magazines made it look easy, but by god!
Your eyes clenched as you gritted your teeth, taking his weeping tip and running it over your folds. Alastor held your hips, kissing your shoulders âdarlin donât force yourselfâŠwe can take it as slow as you needâ he reassured.
A whimper met his ears and he let out a hiss as your tight warm walls sunk down on him, stopping just shy when met with resistance.
You took a deep breath as you plunged down, a cry leaving your throat âAaah!â
You buried your face the groove of his neck, nails biting into his skin leaving angry marks.
You felt so full.
It was like you could barely breath, his cock filled every crevice and stretched you beyond limits.
Your fingers never felt like this.
You needed to move, to adjust and get accustomed to him being inside.
Your teeth found themselves bedded into Alastorâs flesh as you finally took the last few inches.
Your sweet husband made sure to soothe you, kissing you cheeks and lips, lavishing your chest in kisses as well, muttering positive affirmations.
âOh my sweet girlâ
âYoure doing so wellâ
âdeep breaths baby, I got yaâ
After a while, you let out a shaky moan as Alastor softly kneaded your flesh, before rolling his hips into yours. He groaned as you clenched around him, pupils dilating.
âI-I know we said we would go slow but my god cher, you feel so goodâ
He took it upon himself to slowly move you. Alastor had heard from other men that a womanâs pussy was like heaven on earth. He used to think they were exaggerating, but your warm, gummy walls hugged him perfectly.
He had been hard since he had tasted his wife.Â
You were sweeter than any fruit heâs tasted. He would live between your thighs if he could.
He peppered your shoulder in kisses as he grinded into your heat.
âA-Al!â You whined, body buzzing with pleasure.
Soft moans and grunts filled the room as the two of you made love for the first time.
âPlease Al oh my god please!â You moaned throwing your head back against the bed. Alastor was on top of you, head buried in your neck, soft grunts and growls pouring from his lips.
âYou gonna cum for me baby?â He purred, hips snapping into yours, your legs wrapped around his waist.
You nodded as your cunt fluttered.
Alastor lifted his head to catch your lips, intertwining your hands.
âc-cum!c-cummin oh Oh fuck my god! A-Al..Iâm gonna cumâ you whimpered as the ball in your belly tightened.
Alastor smiled against your lips âIts okay. Just let it happen baby. Câmon. Cum on your husbandâs cock. Thatâs itâŠfuck babyâ
You saw white as your body seized. Your thighs trembled as you pulsed around his cock, orgasm ripping through you as you milked him of his first orgasm.
âIloveyouoloveyouiloveyouâ you chanted as Alastor rode out your orgasm, humming in amusement at his wife.
You twitched in sensitivity as his thrusts sped up before he stilled, groaning as he emptied his ball into you.
You both panted,chest heaving as you overcame the sensation of passion.
Alastor curled his arms around you, pulling you into his chest. he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, making you sleepily blink at him
âWas that ok?â He asked nervous
You smiled, pressing a kiss over his heart sighing
âThat was perfectâÂ
the two of you sat in bliss, just taking each other in.
âAl?â You muttered, making the man look down at you
âC-Can I suck your cock now?â
That made the man short-circuit.Â
You looked up when you got no response only to see your husband sporting a nosebleed
âoh my god Al!â
He had a silly smile of his face
âI love you my dearâ
You giggled, making him tilt his head back
âI love you tooâ
ââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
@boney-horse@zombiesnips-blog@rulesareshadesofgrey@southern-bayou-beau@doggone-devil@polytheatrix @yourdoorisunlocked @amurtan@sassuguru@confessioncassette@evedenn@alastorsaries@alastors666creampie@alastor-simp@alastors-deerest@bigfatbimbo@okay-babe@purplecatsandhearts@altruisticalastor@horrorartsworld@dasimp777@nettaw@nightshadelm@certifiedcrybabyyy
#hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#alastor#alastor x reader#hazbin hotel fanfiction#alastor the radio demon#alastor x y/n#alastor smut#alastor hazbin hotel#human alastor x reader#human alastor x wife reader#jyoongim
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dare to fuck this up
summary: ever since your last game of truth or dare ellie's been avoiding you and it's time for an intervention
tags: NSFW, tlou au, college!ellie/reader, mentions of drugs and alcohol (not used), oral (e receiving), fingering (r receiving), finger riding (r receiving), little bit of angst, afab reader, the knee thing
a/n: this took me 2 months cause i work full time and it's 10k words so. enjoy (thank u for all the love on part 1! <3) also for anyone who doesn't know the tiktok dance i mentioned i linked it. don't look under the sound you'll spend way too long watching hot women dance
part 1
You hadn't talked about it.Â
You had woken up the next morning, the sun blinding you from the window that was still left open. A cold autumn breeze ruffled your curtains, pricking at your bare skin. With one foot still in a dream, you'd groaned, turning over and pulling your blanket over your head. You had burrowed your head into your pillow - it still smelled earthy, rich with cologne and the faintest smell of weed. It had made your nose wrinkle only briefly, before you had reached out, searching for the warmth of another body - but your fingers only landed on the sheets, now cool to the touch.Â
You sat up with a gasp, the blanket pooling around your lap. But you had fallen asleep on top of your blankets, hadn't you?Â
The comforter was laid neatly over you, the pillows on the other side of the bed propped against your headboard, unbothered. The sun was streaming through the window, filtering through your curtains and shining in splatters of light against your own bare skin. Your small room was deafeningly quiet.Â
That had been three weeks ago.Â
For three weeks, Ellie avoided you. You hadn't seen her when you left to take your exam that morning. By the time you got home - after classes and after your part-time job - it was dark. The door to her bedroom was firmly shut, the muffled sound of music leaking into the living room - you wanted to smile when you realized she was listening to that song you had recommended. You thought about knocking on her door; not even to talk about what happened, really, but just because she was your best friend. Instead, you ate leftover takeout - cold because you were too tired to microwave it - and went to bed. You could hear her quietly singing to the music through your flimsy wall, falling asleep listening to her voice.Â
At first, you honestly thought you had dreamed it. You thought maybe you had fallen asleep, sleep deprivation and vodka drawing out this fantasy in your dreams to torment you when you woke. But when you looked in the mirror, the bruises were still there. You ran your fingertips across the one on your collarbone, pressing at the one left behind your ear; you could still feel the warmth of Ellie's mouth against your skin, her teeth grazing across your hips. The phantom feeling still sent a shiver down your spine, heat creeping in your stomach.Â
Ellie was trying her best to avoid you, but she still lived with you. After three days of not speaking, you resorted to a different approach. She didn't seem to have any plan to speak with you anytime soon - certainly not about what happened - so you let your body do the talking. You began wearing primarily v-necks and tank tops - ignoring the fact that it was still fall - simply to broadcast the line of lovebites she had left, her signature written all over your skin. They had faded slightly, but the purplish bruises still blossomed along your collar. You began wearing shorts around, short enough to show the bruise on your thigh; you let the fabric sit low enough to show the one at your hip, a pretty blend of colors that made you ache. The few times you did see her - when she was scavenging for food in the kitchen or right when she got home, before she could scurry away back to her room - you could feel her eyes lingering on you, gaze like a brand against your skin, burning all the spots she had marked.Â
And she would hurry back to her room, locking the door behind her.Â
Fine.Â
If she refused to talk about it, you thought, you'd just have to make her.Â
Which is why, three weeks after your original game - three weeks after that stupid fucking night - you bought a new bottle of vodka (by the time you had found the old one, it had spilled the last of its contents into your rug. Your room still smelled of it). When you got home, Ellieâs door was shut, just as it had been every day for three weeks. You kicked off your boots, leaving them in a pile in the hall, and knocked on her door.
âSorry, Iâm busy,â she called - just as she had every day for three weeks.Â
You pursed your lips and knocked again, harder.Â
âIâm busy!â she called again, her voice hard. It might have stung if you didnât know her so well.
So, you knocked again. And kept knocking, a steady, continuous rhythm that echoed against the walls. You heard Ellie curse under her breath, could hear the scrape of her chair and her footsteps, and you kept knocking. You didnât stop - didnât even slow - until she opened the door in a huff, your hand falling against open air.Â
âWhat the hell are you-âÂ
You shoved the bottle of vodka against her chest, cutting her off. She gripped it hastily before it could shatter against the floor.Â
She looked frazzled. You had seen her during several exam seasons, during harrowing projects and infuriating essays. You had seen her in the hospital, two years ago, after breaking her leg skateboarding to work. But there was something in the way her hair was disheveled, sticking up at odd angles as though she had been running her fingers through it over and over and over again. There were bags under her eyes, purplish splotches like watercolor.Â
And her eyesâŠ. Her eyes were completely shattered.Â
So you hesitated - briefly, just long enough for her to see the stutter on your lips - before you said, âTruth or dare?â
And the game began.Â
Ellie looked at you, staring for several moments that stretched into infinity. You wanted to grasp it, to wrap your fingers around that stretched thread of a moment and hold it there where it couldn't hurt either of you. You weren't ready to let it go. But Ellie was looking at you with those broken eyes, and before you could say or do anything - before you caved and took the bottle back, fleeing back to the safety of your own room - the thread snapped.Â
Ellie shook her head - and kept shaking it, as if doing so would rid her of this⊠whatever this was. âNo,â she murmured, avoiding your eyes as her grip around the bottleâs neck tightened. âNo, Iâm not doing this. Iâm busy, okay? I have an exam tomorrow-â
She moved to close the door - shutting it right in your face - but you kicked your foot out to stop it.Â
âWhen somebody asks the question,â you said, reciting the stupid little agreement you both had written out two years ago, the night you established this tradition, âyou have to play the game to its conclusion; when you run out of questions or pass out from alcohol poisoning. Those are the rules, El. Remember?âÂ
And still, she just looked at you, her brow furrowed like you were an equation she couldnât solve - couldnât even read, really. Her knuckles were white around the bottleâs neck, and when you looked down, her hands were shaking. You wanted more than anything to put your hands over hers, to still them - to bring those hands to your lips and kiss the white knuckles until she released her fists. Instead, you dug your nails into your thighs.Â
You watched as Ellie took a deep, steadying breath, clenching her fists tighter before releasing the tension, her fingers relaxing around the bottle; her hands stopped trembling. She smiled at you, but it was tight, her eyes empty of their usual mischief. âAlright,â she said, and her voice was just as tight as her fists had been moments ago - the tension not gone, only transferred. âOkay, Iâll play. But you only get an hour - I really do need to study.âÂ
Ellieâs bedroom was the same layout as yours, only flipped, the two a mirror of each other. Strings of lights hung crookedly along the walls, the bulbs casting a soft, warm glow amongst the room, the same hazy hue of a dream. An easel leaned in one corner, a canvas propped against it; there were only the barest scribbles of an outline, incomprehensible to you. You thought it may be a profile, the gentle slope of a nose and soft lips sketched in pencil, but you werenât sure.Â
You ran your fingers over her desk as you passed; it was in absolute disarray. Two different astronomy textbooks lay open, covered in highlighter markings and Ellieâs sloping writing in the margins. There were three different cups on the surface in varying levels of full: a mug half full of coffee, still steaming; a glass of water that was completely full, untouched; and a cup filled with murky, grey liquid. A few paintbrushes had been left to sit in that one, and in large writing along the cup was written PAINT DO NOT DRINK. You almost laughed, remembering all the times you had watched your roommate spit water out after she had picked up the wrong cup.Â
It felt strange when you sat gingerly on her bed. You had sat in this spot so many times before, more than you could count. You had spent so much time lounging on this bed, your laptop open in front of you while Ellie worked at her desk - on homework or her latest painting or nothing at all. There were days laid out before you where you both at lain in a crumbled heap, eating takeout on top of the covers because Ellie didn't give a shit about crumbs, an open laptop playing whatever horror movie she wanted to show you (she was always more scared than you, hiding her face in your shoulder). God knows how many truth or dare games you had played in this room, a bottle of alcohol passing between shaking fingers. When Ellie bought it, it was cheap whiskey and you hated it; you drank it anyway.Â
Now, sitting on her bed - carefully, as though you thought it might break - your skin felt aflame, a fire burning in your muscles. When you ran your fingers over the messy sheets, you could only remember how it had felt to have your fingers clutching the ones on your own bed.Â
Ellie sat at her desk across from you, folding herself so that she had one foot propped up on the chair with her, her knee folded to her chest; her other foot tapped anxiously against the floor. She was looking at you, her face strategically neutral, but it was like she was looking through you; her eyes kept shifting away, unable or unwilling to settle on you. Her voice gave nothing away when she said, looking at a spot above your shoulder, âDare.âÂ
You sighed, feeling the questions wanting to claw their way from your throat with nowhere to go. You knew what you wanted her to do - what you wanted to dare her to do - but the words would only cause her to withdraw further. You felt like you had to approach Ellie as if she were a scared animal, ready to flee at the first sight of danger.Â
Wracking your brain for something mild, you said, âTry to recreate one of those dumb popular TikTok dances.âÂ
You didn't miss how Ellie's shoulders relaxed, her hands noticeably unclenching. She looked at you and it was almost like nothing had happened; like she hadnât been avoiding you for three entire weeks, becoming a ghost in your apartment. Like you both hadnât made what had obviously been a drunken mistake.Â
The beginning of a smirk tugged at her lips as she dug in her back pocket for her phone - its case had an astronaut on it, because of course it did. The screen illuminated her face, flashes reflecting minutely in her eyes as she scrolled. She bit her lip absently - she often did when she was thinking. You tried not to stare and failed miserably.Â
âThisâll be easy,â she muttered to herself, half laughing. She scrolled through a few videos, and she had the volume down on her phone, but you could still recognize the song that kept playing on repeat; you were going to fucking die.Â
There were several minutes of quiet, only the music playing from Ellieâs phone. With nothing to do but wait, you brought your legs up onto the bed, tucking them under you; your eyes wandered around the room, taking in the stack of paintings by her desk, both finished and unfinished. The figurine she had of Kassandra from Assassinâs Creed: Odyssey had toppled on her desk, her spear falling in a glob of paint, the tip smudged bright yellow. You investigated the posters she had hung up of her favorite bands - almost all of them with female singers; she had a very specific taste. On her nightstand, in a frame made of macaroni, there was a picture of her and her dad, taken at the zoo when she was quite a bit younger, the blurry image of a giraffe in the background. She was holding up a peace sign, smiling so wide her eyes were practically shut.Â
You turned back when Ellie stood up from her chair, placing her phone on her desk. Shoving her hands in her hair, she said, âCanât promise thisâll be anything amazing, but you get what you paid for.â Even as she said it, she was smirking, a dangerous twinkle in her eye.Â
You watched as she rummaged in her closet, shoving aside probably half a dozen flannels and at least 10 different band t-shirts. She rummaged through a bucket with a few beanies in different colors, and you couldnât see her face, but you already knew she would be wrinkling her nose like she always did when she was getting frustrated.Â
You jumped, startled, when she suddenly exclaimed, pulling her head from her closet and turning to you with a triumphant grin. She held a black belt in her fist, holding it up like a trophy.Â
You shook your head at her, even as your throat closed up with anticipation. âIf it took you that long to find one, itâs no wonder your pants are always hanging from your fucking ass.âÂ
âHey,â she said, picking up her phone again and looking at you with mock offense; she was still smirking. âI donât exactly hear you complaining when my ass is out.âÂ
You heard the stutter, heard the way her breath caught after she said the words. It was so stupid - a stupid little remark that she would have made any other day three weeks ago. She wouldnât have even thought about it, wouldnât have batted an eye. You would have rolled your eyes and said something mean in response - something like, âI save my complaints for when I see your face instead.â You would have laughed and then watched a fucking movie or something.Â
Instead, Ellie only coughed awkwardly, ducking her head to fiddle with her phone. In the dim light, you could see the flush of her cheeks behind her bangs. You looked anywhere but at her, your eyes darting around to find something to focus on that wasnât how pretty she looked when she was flushed pink - how pretty she looked with her cheeks red from alcohol and exertion, her lips shining wetly -Â
Your brain short-circuited when Ellie started the music - only the bite-sized sample that was trending on TikTok. She set her phone on her desk and took a deep breath, waiting for the song to loop again as she positioned the belt by her hips. She didnât look at you, instead casting her eyes to the ceiling and muttering, âThis is gonna be so stupid.âÂ
When the music looped again, you were forced to watch as Ellie thrust her hips to the beat, pulling the belt slowly away from her hips. When she brought it up to wrap the piece of leather around her neck, pulling it taut, you were surely convinced you must be paying for some sort of crime, that this was your eternal torture. Her movements were janky, stuttering and unsure and off-beat - she had only watched the videos for a few minutes and was relying solely on memory to guide her limbs. When she tried to tie her wrists into the belt, she got stuck, her hands ending up in a knotted mess. Still, her eyes met yours when she raised her bound hands above her head - coincidentally or purposefully - and you couldnât look away.Â
This was definitely Hell. It had to be.Â
When the song started to loop again, Ellie hastily tried to pull her hands from the knot. The belt clattered to the floor, abandoned, as she scooped her phone up, fumbling with the buttons to cut off the music. She nearly dropped her phone in her haste.Â
When the room was silent again, Ellie sat back down at her desk. Last time you had played, you had asked her to do something ridiculous for her first dare, and she had grinned with pride, practically preening. Now, she wasn't smiling; she hardly even looked at you, fiddling with one of the many paintbrushes on her desk. You compartmentalized the image of her thrusting her hips with her hands bound over her head, saving it for later. You always did torture yourself with these things.Â
Ellie was looking at that same spot over your shoulder when she said, âTruth or dare?â She sounded pained, her words strained against some invisible weight. It was like your very presence in her room - on her bed - pained her, but you couldnât bring yourself to leave and give her relief.Â
âTruth,â you said, hoping against hope that she would ask you fucking anything about that night three weeks ago.Â
But she had never been that easy. Ellie had never been one to give you straight answers and she wasnât about to start now - especially not now. So instead of saying anything - asking anything - about that night that she seemed keen on forgetting, she asked, âWhatâs the worst first date youâve been on?â Before you could protest that you always told her about your worst dates, she added, âOne I havenât heard before.âÂ
So for the span of one question, you let yourself believe that you were still talking to your best friend. That she hadnât been avoiding you for three fucking weeks and this was only your typical truth or dare game in between studying. You believed that you were simply gossiping with Ellie, who had been your best friend for several years and nothing more. In the space of one question, you let yourself believe that this was still only a game and not an intervention.Â
So, in the spirit of pretend, you thought for a moment, rifling through the index of all the shitty dates youâve been on. Ellie had already heard most of them, had been there whenever you came back home; she was there whether you were heartbroken or relieved that you wouldnât see the person again. There were a few times where you had come home laughing, and she had passed you a joint as you told her all about the horrible date - you would take twice as long to tell the story because you couldnât stop laughing.Â
Finally, you said, âOkay, this was before we came to college. We werenât close enough friends in high school for me to tell you, so I donât think youâve heard this one before. Stop me if Iâm wrong.â She waved her hand for you to continue, twirling a pencil between her fingers. âI had just graduated high school so I was dating around before I left for college - nothing serious, just casually looking around.âÂ
âWindow shopping,â she interrupted you with a grin - that same easy grin she always had with you. Your heart tugged embarrassingly at seeing it again.Â
You swallowed the lump and continued, âYeah. So, I went on a date with this guy - he was some friend of a friendâs, I didnât know much about him. We went out to dinner at some local dive bar - which was already fucking weird because, like I said, I had just graduated high school.âÂ
âWas this guy a fucking cradle robber?â Ellie said, wrinkling her nose.Â
You shook your head. âHe may as well have been. He was either 21 or he was just really good friends with the bartender because as soon as he came in, he got two beers - the cheap shit, too. It tasted like musty ass.â Your stomach twisted when she laughed. âSo we sit at a booth and I finally get a second to really look at him.â You leaned forward, bracing your hand on the bed so you wouldnât fall, and made sure she was looking right at you when you said, âAnd this motherfucker was wearing a shirt that said Black Rifles Matter.âÂ
You reveled in the way Ellieâs jaw dropped, her eyes widening. Her lip turned up in disgust, and the only thing she could say was, âNo.âÂ
You grinned, nodding, and you had to focus really hard to not start laughing. âYes. And I rolled up to this dive bar, fresh out of the womb, with bright pink hair freshly dyed and a crop top that literally said Femme on it in bright pink letters - which, okay, maybe not the choice to wear on a first date with a straight guy, but still. I was in this booth with a baby face looking every bit as queer as I am, and this fucking dude with a patchy mustache and a shirt that has more problems than I care to admit opens up by telling me he doesnât like when girls dye their hair.âÂ
Ellie was rolling her eyes, on the edge of her seat. She leaned closer as you continued, âBut fine, whatever, everybody has preferences I guess. But this guy gets three beers in, and heâs already been talking about weird shit - conspiracy theories and telling me how kids today are too soft - one of those fucking guys, right? But then he stops,â you hold up your hands for emphasis, leaning even closer, âand he leans into me over the table, and he looks me straight in the eye - you wanna know what he said?âÂ
Ellie groaned. âTell me he didnât ask who you voted for or some shit.âÂ
You barked out a laugh; it echoed on the walls. âGod, I wish. No, this bitch looks me dead in the eyes, his breath reeking of bad beer, and he says, âAre you on your period? I have this weird talent for smelling when girls are on their period.ââÂ
You watched, delighted, as Ellie slapped a hand over her mouth, muffling a choked gasp. âNo!âÂ
You couldnât stop laughing, pressing your hand to your stomach as you fell back against the sheets. Her laugh filled the room like helium, making everything feel lighter - easier. Even now, you couldnât help but marvel at how easy it was being around Ellie. And for a moment, you did forget what had happened. You forgot about the string pulled taut between you waiting to snap. You forgot that this was anything more than simply another dumb game of truth or dare.
Until you looked up and saw the press of Ellieâs lips again, the way her eyes darted away, and you could feel yourself sinking again.Â
And thatâs how the hour went. Ellie - infuriating Ellie - did every single dare you asked of her. She did a handstand for a minute straight, her face turning so red you thought she might pass out. She called the local pizza place you often ordered from and asked for one hundred sardine pizzas, laughing when the poor teenage boy on the other line started stuttering. Last time, she didnât take all the liquid in the fridge and make a nauseating cocktail; but this time, she did go and find four different liquids of her choosing - apple juice, almond milk, an old flat Dr. Pepper, and the remaining vinegar in a Kimchi jar - and downed it in front of you. She tried her hardest to hold a straight face, but only ended up scrunching her eyes closed, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle a gag. She never chose truth.Â
For your part, you never chose dare. You answered every pressing, embarrassing question she asked, ignoring the flush to your cheeks. You told her the most absurd dealbreaker for a relationship. (âWhat do you mean youâll break up with someone if they donât like garlic?â Ellie asked, smiling even as she shook her head.â) You went through the original Wiggles band and said which you would fuck, marry, or kill (âThere are four of them! Do I choose to have a threesome?â)Â
And you waited. Each time you chose truth, you held your breath. You watched Ellie mull it over, her eyes darting around as she thought, and prayed that she would just ask you something. You knew it was an unrealistic wish, but you still watched her lips and hoped against hope that she would give you some kind of acknowledgement that this wasnât all for nothing. You just wanted her to stop being such a pussy and fucking talk about what happened.Â
But the clock kept ticking.Â
After about an hour had passed, Ellie looked at her phone and sighed, standing up. âOkay, I really have to get back to studying. I have this dumb astrophysics exam tomorrow and I canât wrap my fucking head around this shit, so I have to -â
âOne more,â you cut her off, standing up from the bed. You followed her as she walked to the door, one step behind her when she put a hand on the doorknob. She paused, her hand frozen there as she looked at you - actually looked at you, not through you. It was only a moment, but it was there; you could feel the way her eyes had branded your skin even after sheâd looked away. Your voice was rushed, breathless when you added, âWe havenât even opened the bottle, so whatâs one more? Just for fun.âÂ
Ellie looked behind you, back at the vodka bottle on her desk with the seal still intact. She sighed, but she never could say no to you.Â
âFine,â she said, and her voice was so quiet in the dark room; the word felt like a secret between you, soft against the tension stretched thin. âOne more.â
You nodded, taking a deep breath. You tried to sound casual - you really did - but when you spoke, you found you couldnât speak any louder than a whisper, afraid to disturb the air around you. You ducked your head, trying to meet her eyes when you said, âTruth or dare, Els?âÂ
She looked at you, meeting your eyes, and she seemed to deflate, sighing out a breath that ruffled your hair - you hadnât realized how close you were. Her breath smelled of canned ravioli and weed; it was almost enough to make you laugh.Â
Ellie took a step back, clearing her throat, and answered for one last time, âDare.â Because she was too afraid of the fucking truth.Â
And fuck it if your heart didnât stutter in your chest. You felt your fingertips buzzing, your stomach twisting nauseatingly. You felt like you were going to be sick, but you forced yourself to look up at her. You squared your shoulders, feeling like you were preparing for fucking battle, and said, the words familiar on your tongue, âKiss me.âÂ
A moment of silence passed, the words suspended between you. They were tangible, and part of you still wanted to snatch them back - to swallow them and leave, to pretend this never happened - but you didnât. You held them out to Ellie - you werenât sure if they were a threat or an offering.Â
Ellie didnât recoil, and you werenât sure if that was more insulting. She looked at you for a long moment before turning away, shaking her head and turning the doorknob. âI really need to study, okay? I donât have time for thi-âÂ
You put your hand against the door, holding it there so she couldnât open it. Your stomach was a mess, tying itself into knots that you would never be able to undo. And you knew - you were far too aware - that this could ruin everything. It could drive her further away, pushing her further into this little cocoon she was hiding in. Ellie might hate you for it.Â
But this was too important to ignore.Â
âKiss me, Ellie,â you said again, and you could feel the bite of it on your own tongue. When you had said it three weeks ago, you had been so unsure. It had been a rush of words on a breath, tinged with alcohol and desperation. The words had been so careless, a sober idea that had made its way from your drunken mouth.Â
Now, Ellie was the one who couldnât look at you. She stared at the spot where your hand pressed to the door, willing you to let go. Her knuckles were white around the doorknob. Her voice was a rumble that you felt in your chest when she said, âI need you to leave. Please.â That last word - please - made your heart break.Â
You swallowed around the lump in your throat and said, âNo.âÂ
Ellie finally turned her whole body towards you, but she was wearing a mask; she had schooled her face into a mockery of nonchalance, her eyebrows raised expectantly as she watched you. She crossed her arms, leaning against her hip, and watched you with measured expectancy, shaking her head. She shrugged and said, âWhat do you want? I really need to study.âÂ
And it was the lack of care that broke you.Â
You slapped your hand against the door in frustration, feeling the sting in your palm, disappointed when Ellie didnât so much as jump. You shook your head at her, and you were so fucking angry you could feel tears stinging at your eyes. You blinked them away and snapped, âWhatâs your fucking problem?âÂ
Ellieâs eyebrows shot up, her mouth opening in indignant shock. âWhatâs my problem?âÂ
âYeah,â you cut her off before she could even continue. âWhatâs your fucking problem? You know what happened - what we did - but ever since that night you have been so determined to act like it never happened. You havenât even talked to me in three fucking week, Ellie!â She closed her eyes when your voice broke on her name. âYouâve hardly looked at me all night. And look,â you sniffled, feeling some of the fire in you die down, âif you regret it - if you want to act like it never happened and go back to how things were before, I get it, okay? But can you at least have the balls to fucking tell me?âÂ
Your voice echoed off the silent walls, filling the space between you until you couldnât breathe. You wiped a hand roughly over your face; your cheeks burned and you hated yourself for it. The room was so quiet you feared Ellie could hear the sound of your racing heart.Â
It felt like hours before Ellie spoke; her voice was so heartbreakingly quiet, tip toeing on eggshells that were already broken. âI donât regret it.âÂ
You huffed out a breath, shaking your head as she still wouldnât meet your eyes. She couldnât even look at you. When you took a step closer, you could feel the heat radiating off of her body, could feel the warmth in your chest. Your voice had lost its fire, your throat cold and raw and broken. You could only murmur, âThen kiss me again, Els. What are you so afraid of?âÂ
âYou,â she snapped. You jumped, taking a step back; your heart lurched when she finally looked at you. Those shattered eyes were watching you, so open and vulnerable you wanted to look away. You forced yourself to watch, to bear witness to it when she shook her head, blinking tears from her eyes. Ellie pressed her lips together, blinking several times before releasing her held breath. She held your gaze like it was a lifeline and said, âIâm scared of you.âÂ
And just for a moment - so filled with silence it might pop - you saw it. You saw how Ellie had run from you like an injured animal, hiding away. You saw the way her hands shook around her biceps. You saw the way she bit her lip to keep it from quivering.Â
You shook your head, feeling so incredibly small underneath those eyes that had avoided you all night; now they were vividly, overwhelmingly focused, broken in the hazy light and so green it was dizzying (and you couldnât even blame it on the alcohol this time). You didnât recognize your own voice, so small and vulnerable that the words themselves ached: âHow can I fix this, Els? You want me to-â You huffed out a heavy breath, choking on your own voice. âDo you want me to act like it didnât happen? Do you want me to leave you alone? Iâll do whatever you want, Ellie, I just⊠fuck. I just want my best friend back. So just⊠tell me what I did wrong.âÂ
You jumped when Ellie barked out a laugh, so dry it cracked. It may have been a trick of the light, the soft string lights making everything feel unreal, but when she looked at you again, she went impossibly soft.Â
âYou,â she said, so softly it ached, âhaven't done anything wrong.â She sighed, leaning back against the wall; it was like all the fight suddenly drained from her, her shoulders sagging against the weight of three weeks. She looked away, her lashes casting shadows over her cheeks, and said, quiet as a confession, âYou were drunk.âÂ
You furrowed your brow, shaking your head. âWhat?âÂ
Ellie ran a hand through her hair, making it even more disheveled. Pathetically, you wanted to fix it; you knew how soft the strands would be under your fingers.Â
âYou were drunk,â she repeated, as though it pained her; as though it explained everything. Her voice broke, the shattered pieces falling at your feet. âAnd IâŠ. Fuck, I shouldnât have pushed you. I shouldnât have⊠forced myself on you.â She heaved in a shaky breath, her words tumbling from her, broken glass cutting her throat, leaving it raw. âI couldnât even⊠wait for you to wake up after. I just fucking ran - I couldnât even look at you, and thatâs even shittier! And for three weeks, Iâve been trying to figure out how to fucking talk to you when I know that we - that I shouldnât have done that.âÂ
Ellie pressed her hand to her mouth, taking in a shaking breath - her entire body was trembling as she fought to hold it all in. She looked ready to burst, struggling to take in a deep breath. You reached out to grab her hand - to hold her together - but she flinched away.Â
âI donât-â you started, unable to find the words. You watched your best friend dissolve, and you couldnât seem to fit all her pieces back together. âEllie⊠Els, are you saying youâre avoiding me because - because you thought you took advantage of me.â The words tasted ridiculous on your tongue, a foreign object.
Ellie was shaking her head wildly, her hands balled into fists. âYou were drunk!â she repeated, like a mantra. She pressed a hand to her chest as though to keep everything in. âYou were drunk, and you kept telling me no, and I just⊠pushed. I pushed and I didnât know when to stop and, fuck, I still canât believe I did that and I didnât even have the fucking balls to face you or even tell you Iâm sorry, and-âÂ
âEllie.â You reached out and grabbed her wrist, cutting off her rambling; she flinched again but didnât pull away. She looked up at you, her eyes wide and vulnerable and so impossibly green. âFor one, do I need to remind you we were both drunk. And that I was the one who told you to kiss me?â
She watched you carefully, guarded; her bottom lip stuck out and, embarrassingly, you found you wanted to kiss it again more than anything. She took in a deep, shaky breath, ignoring the tears running down her cheeks; they mixed with her freckles like watercolor. âYou kept telling me to stop - to leave it alone. And I didnât listen.âÂ
âEls, I told you to stop because I was scared,â you admitted in a rush. Before she could respond, you continued, âNot of you. I was scared of how badly I wanted you, okay? And thatâs fucking embarrassing to admit, but Iâm saying it so you know it wasnât your fault. I was scared because⊠fuck.â You scrubbed a hand over your face, feeling tears on your own cheeks. âBecause youâre my best friend. And I knew that, as much as I wanted it, it could fuck everything up. But I didnât want you to stop.âÂ
She shook her head. Her voice was raw when she said, âYou couldnât fuck anything up. You didnât do anything wrong.âÂ
âNeither did you,â you practically shouted. âEllie, I asked you to kiss me! Yeah, I had a few shots that night, but I knew what I was doing. You asked me how long Iâve wanted it - what did I say, Els? Tell me.âÂ
Ellie looked up at you, her cheeks splotchy from crying; she let you slip your hand into hers anyway. âA long fucking time.â It was no more than a whisper.Â
âYeah,â you said, gripping her hand to keep her grounded. âNot just when I was drunk. Not just when it was late. And definitely not just when you wanted it too. Iâve wanted you for a long fucking time, Els.âÂ
Ellie watched you, studying you like you were an equation she couldnât figure out (she really needed to study for that astrophysics exam). She pursed her lips, nodding slowly, rubbing roughly at her damp cheeks. âYeah.â Her voice broke again; she cleared her throat. âYeah. Me too.âÂ
You took a step towards her; her body was so warm it was dizzying. You could hear her breath catch when you reached up and pressed your palm to her cheek.Â
âWhat do we do now?âÂ
When she sighed, you could feel it on your lips. You felt the warmth of her hand at your waist, a steady anchor. âLike you said,â she murmured, her gaze soft; she reached up to brush your hair from your face, her fingers grazing the side of your neck. âThis could fuck everything up.âÂ
Your heart lurched; you swallowed it back down so it could throw a fit right next to your twisted stomach. âYeah,â you whispered, afraid to break the spell that made Ellieâs eyes watch the way your lips moved, captivated. âButâŠ.âÂ
âBut,â Ellie repeated, leaning in so her nose brushed against yours; it was cold against your skin.Â
You hardly had to move to kiss her, tilting your chin up to finally kiss that pouty bottom lip you had been staring at. You heard her breath catch again, her fingers pressing at your waist, drawing you closer so the warmth of her pressed against you. After three fucking weeks, you hadnât forgotten how her lips felt against yours. It was just as intoxicating as it had been the first time; you were dizzy with the way she moved her mouth against yours, warmth spreading through your chest.Â
Ellie broke away from you, but she didnât stray far; she pressed her forehead to yours, and you could see that her eyes were still closed, her brow furrowed. She sounded impossibly small when she said, âAre you sure about this? I mean, what-â
âEllie,â you interrupted; you twisted your fingers into her short hair and tugged lightly, delighting in the gasp it pulled from her lips. âJust shut up for once, okay?âÂ
You hardly even heard her replied Okay before her mouth was on yours again. Last time she had kissed you, you had felt lightheaded, floating with the weight of alcohol in your veins. Each press of her hands on you had felt unreal and distant, like she was touching you in a dream.Â
Tonight, the vodka bottle sat unopened and forgotten on her desk, and Ellie was pressing against you with a sharp realness that made your breath stutter in your throat. When her fingers ran along your jaw, cupping your face and tugging you closer, they were lightning against your skin. She had the welcoming warmth of a bonfire, and you were like a fucking moth drawn to her.Â
Ellie took a hesitant step forward, pressing you back, moving so slowly as though she thought youâd push her away. You let her push you backwards - encouraged her, really, entwining your arms around her neck and tugging her with you. You stumbled on the last few steps, practically falling back against the wall; Ellie braced her hands on either side of you to keep herself up, laughing into your mouth. You wanted to swallow the sound, to take it into your chest where it could curl up right next to your heart.Â
The wall was cold against your back, but Ellie was quick to chase it away; her warm hands ran up your back, rucking up your shirt and scratching her nails lightly over your skin until you shivered. She was so gentle with you this time, running her fingers over your skin with such careful deliberation, as though each kiss and each caress was meticulously planned out.Â
It was with this painstaking consideration that she lifted your shirt, pooling it around your chest; you raised your arms so she could pull it over your head.Â
Ellie snickered, snapping the strap of your bra against your skin. âThis is new.âÂ
âShut the fuck up,â you said, batting her hand away. It was one of your nicer ones, and you couldn't tell her that, embarrassingly, you had worn it on purpose with the hopeless thought of just in case. âSorry Iâm not in my pajamas. Iâll be sure to fix that next time.âÂ
She grinned, ducking her head to press a kiss to your jaw. She hummed against your skin, âNo, I like it.âÂ
You didnât talk about the implication of what you had said - next time. But the way she kissed her way across your jaw, her teeth grazing over your skin and sending a shiver down your spine, promised a next time. As Ellieâs tongue darted out to lick along your pulse, you could feel the words in the breathy sigh that escaped your lips. When she ducked her head to bite at your collar, she branded the words into your skin.Â
âYouâre such an asshole,â she said, her laughter warm against your skin. She pressed a gentle kiss to your collarbone; the bruise had long faded, but the phantom ache was still there. You could feel her smile when your breath hitched. âJust had these on full display. Drove me insane.âÂ
You huffed out a laugh that stuttered when she pressed a kiss at the edge of your bra. âI had to get your attention somehow, didnât I?âÂ
Ellie lifted her head to meet your eyes. Her voice was barely above a whisper, her breath brushing your lips when she said, âYouâre crazy if you think youâve ever not had my attention.âÂ
When she kissed you again, it was with a new fire that burned bright in your chest. Her hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer so that you could feel her body against every inch of you. Her fingers dipped below the waist of your pants, pressing at the soft skin there. You felt her tongue press against your lips; when she ran it along the room of your mouth, she swallowed your moan.Â
Ellie hummed against your lips, pressing you firmly into the wall and shoving a knee between your legs. You gasped at the sudden friction, heat pooling in your stomach when Ellie gripped your hips and pulled you closer, grinding against her sweatpants-covered leg. Her lips brushed against your ear and she murmured, âTell me to stop and I'll stop.âÂ
She had said those same words last time, pressed drunkenly into your skin. There was an affirmation hidden somewhere underneath: Do you still want me? Before, they had been slurred, like a sloppy kiss against your lips. Now, her hands steady against your hips, her body warm from something other than vodka, it was whispered like a promise.Â
You answered by pressing your hands to her chest; she didnât fight you as you pushed her away, didnât hesitate as you walked her backwards until the back of her knees hit her bed. She let herself fall backwards, but she wrapped her arms around your waist as she did so. You fell into a crumpled heap on top of her, knocking the air from both of your lungs, and you could feel her laughter against your neck.Â
Lifting yourself up on your elbows, you glared down at her; she only answered it with a grin, lifting herself just enough to kiss you briefly. You couldnât suppress your own smile when you said, âYouâre infuriating.âÂ
Her eyes sparkled mischievously. She hooked her fingers in your belt loops and gave them a tug as she said, âYeah, get used to that.âÂ
You kissed her again to hide your smile. You didnât talk about the inclination of that either.Â
Growing impatient, you swung your legs on either side of her, sitting up and straddling her hips. Ellieâs hands ran up your sides, captivated, as though refusing to keep her hands off you for even a moment. You idly ran your fingers over her stomach where her hoodie had risen up, the warm skin right above her sweatpants; you delighted in the way she shivered at your touch.Â
âThis doesnât seem fair,â you hummed, running your hand higher up her abdomen, revealing the expanse of soft skin; if you pressed just a little bit harder, youâd be able to feel the muscles beneath. You smiled when you heard her breath stutter, chest rising just slightly to meet your touch. âYouâre wearing way too many clothes.âÂ
Ellie - ever enthusiastic - wasted no time in sitting up just enough to tug her hoodie over her head, leaving her hair an absolute mess. She tossed it across the room; you thought you heard it knock something over, but you didnât have a chance to look before Ellie was grabbing your hips, digging her fingers into the soft skin. You gasped when she used the leverage to pull your hips down, grinding against her.Â
This time, she was the one not wearing a bra - she had been home studying all day, so you hadnât expected otherwise - and your eyes raked over miles of fair, warm skin. You wanted to run your fingers over it and watch the shiver your touch pulled from her. You wanted to press your lips to every inch of hot skin and feel the way her body arched into you, chasing your tongue.Â
But she was watching you with an intoxicating shade of anticipation in her half-lidded eyes. You realized you had been staring for a few seconds too long because she had that cocky ass grin on her stupid face.Â
âLike what you see?â she teased, pulling your hips down again so you had to bite down a moan.Â
âShut the fuck up,â you mumbled. You couldnât tell her how many times you had imagined what she would look like under your hands or how you had always wondered how far down her freckles went (you couldnât keep yourself from running your fingers down her chest, tracing them like constellations). You couldnât tell her how your eyes had tracked her anytime she walked around the apartment in a sports bra or, sometimes, in only a towel, your imagination running away from you.Â
If you told her, sheâd never let you live it down.
Instead, you let your hands drift across the small swell of her chest, feeling the way her body arched into your fingers. You had to bite back a grin when your thumb brushed over her nipple, feeling her body shudder beneath you. You wanted to record the way her breath caught in her throat to listen to over and over again. Her eyelids fluttered, her lip caught between her teeth; you knelt down to kiss her, hard and deep, smiling into it when you pinched her nipple gently and she moaned against your lips, fingers tightening around your hips.Â
You needed to taste her, you realized. Your mouth watered with it.Â
You bit her bottom lip between your teeth, grinning when you heard her hiss. You took a moment to kiss your way across her jaw and down her neck, open-mouthed kisses pulling sighs from her lips. You couldnât resist sucking the skin into your mouth, feeling the way her pulse jumped under your tongue and loving the moan that rumbled in her throat, her fingers gripping your hips so tightly you were sure you'd have bruises - again. But when you pulled away and saw the red beginnings of a bruise on her pale skin, a thrill ran through you. She would have to walk around with a physical reminder of how you had made her feel.Â
You loved revenge.Â
But you werenât like Ellie, who had taken her sweet time in unraveling you. You didnât have that kind of patience - certainly not now, not tonight. You had spent far too long holding yourself back - too long averting your gaze, never letting your touch linger. You had spent so long schooling your own imagination, trying to ignore the way your heart stuttered whenever Ellie wandered too close. You had spent too many nights letting your mind wander, only feeling safe to let your imagination run when you could hide in the dark; you had spent far too many nights with your hand between your legs and the fleeting image of green eyes and that crooked fucking smile.Â
So no, you didnât have any patience left in you.
When you reached between your bodies and pressed your palm to her sweatpants, you swallowed her moan, drinking it in and feeling like you could survive on it alone. Maybe it would finally satiate your fucking thirst.Â
Kissing your way down her chest, you pressed the words into her skin - âI can't fucking believe you though I didnât want this.â - before pressing the flat of your tongue to her nipple. You could get drunk on the breathy moan that dripped from her lips, the way she arched up into you like her body ached to be closer to yours. She pressed her hips into your palm and you could feel the heat through her sweatpants.Â
When you pulled back just enough to tug at her sweatpants, Ellie started laughing, breathy and hitched as she said, âLittle eager, arenât you?â Even as she said it, she was lifting her hips, pushing hastily at her pants to get them off faster.Â
The fabric was damp when it dropped to the floor, pooling around her ankles. Stepping off the bed, you placed your hands on her knees, pushing them apart. You dropped to your knees and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the skin above her boxers. Her skin was hot under your tongue when you said, âHavenât I waited long enough, Els?âÂ
Ellie only responded with a moan as you sunk your teeth into the soft flesh of her thigh and pressed the heel of your palm to her underwear. You grinned against her skin when she cursed, grinding down into you. You soothed the bite with your tongue and backed away to admire the red beginnings of another bruise.Â
Ellie groaned, twisting her fingers in the sheets when you ground your palm into her. âFuck, Iâve waited long enough too, right?âÂ
You couldnât hold back your grin, tugging at her boxers so she would lift her hips. With her underwear around her ankles, Ellie lifted herself up on her elbows so she could look down at you. Whatever she saw - you on your knees between her legs, lips parted so your hot breath fanned over her - made her groan, another breathy curse falling from her lips. She reached down and carded her fingers through your hair, fingers soft against your temple.Â
You smiled, blinking coyly up at her, and said, âLittle eager, arenât you?â before pressing the flat of your tongue to her clit.Â
The moan that wracked through Ellieâs chest sent warmth spreading through your stomach, an ache pooling between your legs. You raised your eyes to watch her as you licked a slow, painstaking stripe over her slit, watching the way her mouth fell open in a choked gasp. The metallic taste of her on your tongue made your head spin; you moaned when she twisted her fingers in your hair, delicious pain stinging your scalp when she tugged.Â
Ellie gasped your name like it was a promise. âFuck - what the fuck -â Nonsensical words dripped from her lips with abandon, sweet as honey to your ears. When you ducked your head down to press your tongue inside her, a brief, hot pressure, her fingers tightened in your hair, her voice hitching when she cursed again, her words slurring together.Â
You wrapped one arm around her thigh, feeling the muscle trembling as you pressed your fingers into the soft flesh. You ran your other hand up her stomach, feeling the way her breath quickened in the rise and fall of her chest. Stretching further, you flicked your thumb over her nipple and tightened your arm around her thigh when her hips bucked, holding her in place.Â
You wrapped your lips around her clit, sucking it into your mouth and fighting back a smile at the keening whine it pulled from her. Her fist in your hair tugged you closer, guiding you exactly where she wanted you - and how could you resist her when she was chanting your name like a prayer?Â
A shudder wracked through Ellieâs body when you flicked your tongue over her clit, lapping at her like you were starving. (After waiting so long to taste her, you might as well have been.) She groaned when you pinched her nipple between your fingers, her thighs clamping around your ears. Her legs shook when she came, your name on her tongue as though it were the only word she knew. You coaxed her through it, the flat of your tongue licking over her clit until she was gasping for breath, her hips slumping back against the bed.Â
You peppered kisses over her thighs as she came down, your hand brushing across her stomach in soothing circles. Your knees ached from the cold floor, the carpet burning against your skin, but you couldnât convince yourself to move just yet. When you glanced up at her, Ellie was looking down at you with glassy eyes; she had slumped back a little against her elbows, her limbs jelly - you tried not to let that go to your head - but she held out a hand to you, grasping for you. âFuck, come here.âÂ
You both took the time to finally scoot further up the bed, Ellie's head propped on her pillow, her hair a messy halo around her. She pulled you on top of her, bracing her hands on your hips as you straddled one of her legs. When you leaned down, she tilted her chin up to meet you, kissing you lazily, licking into your mouth like she had all the time in the world - like she could kiss you forever and it still wouldn't be enough. With your elbows braced on either side of her head, it felt like you were both in a small bubble, the world left outside to wait for you. Fuck, maybe you did have all the time in the world.Â
You gasped when Ellie raised her leg, pressing it between your thighs with an intoxicating pressure. She used her hands on your hips to push you down, guiding you as you grinded down against her. She broke away from the kiss, taking a moment to just look at you. Her pupils were blown, swallowing the green entirely.Â
She grinned, endearingly lopsided, and murmured, âNow you're wearing too many clothes.â You whined a protest when she took her hands off your hips, but she only reached behind you to fumble with the clasp of your bra. It took her a few tries - you bit back a laugh when she cursed in frustration - and she threw it across the room when she finally got off.Â
âWho the fuck designed those things?â she grumbled, fingers quick on the button on your jeans.Â
You got off of her for only a moment, just long enough to kick your jeans and underwear off, but each second her skin wasn't on yours was agony. Your clothes hadnât even fallen to the floor before Ellie was pulling you back in by the nape of your neck, her other hand guiding your hips back over her leg as she kissed you with a hunger that may as well have devoured you. You hissed when her teeth sunk into your lip, her tongue soothing over it before licking into your mouth.Â
Your breath caught on a broken moan when she pressed her thumb into the dips of your hips, pressing you back to grind against her leg. The feeling of your bare pussy sliding against her thigh made you lightheaded, the dizzying pressure sending sparks through your stomach. Ellie's fingers still on the back of your head twisted in your hair, giving it an experimental tug; you felt her smile against your lips when you whined. You were pliable under her hands, your hips stuttering against her leg.Â
Ellie pulled away, pulling you back by your hair just far enough away for her to look at you; her eyes raked over your body with a hunger that set you nerves on fire, looking ready to devour you.Â
âGod, look at you,â she breathed, raising her leg just slightly, the added pressure making your heart stop. Releasing your hair, her hand ran down your side, sliding across your chest. You moaned when her thumb grazed over your nipple, your hips stuttering; her other hand on your hip tightened, fingers digging into the bone. âSo fucking wet for me and I've hardly even touched you.âÂ
âShit,â you cursed when Ellie bucked her hips, her thigh grinding into you. You tried to glare down at her even though you knew your own traitorous eyes betrayed your growing desperation. Her cocky smile didnât quite land, its impact softened by the way she watched your lips in fascination, her pupils blown - you couldnât see the green anymore. Your voice wasnât nearly as hard as you wanted it to be, your want softening the words: âFuck off, Els, donât be a dick.âÂ
âAm I being a dick?â she asked in mock offense, pouting up at you. âGood things come and all that shit, right?â Ever as she was teasing you, Ellieâs hand crept down your stomach, fingers warm against your hungry skin. She lowered her leg just enough to slide her hand between your thighs. You gasped, feeling lightning in your veins when those calloused fingers slid over your clit, already wet with want. Her eyes darkened, her lips parting. She slowly circled your clit, sending your hips jerking into her, and said, âFuck, look at you. God, I finally get to see you like thisâŠ.âÂ
You struggled to speak past the breathy moans beginning to drip from your lips: âFinally? How - ah - fuck - how long - how long have youâŠ?â You couldnât think of a way to finish that sentence, your thoughts clouding over when Ellie dipped just the tips of her fingers briefly inside you, gathering your wetness.Â
âLike you said,â she murmured, finally pushing two fingers slowly inside you; even as she kept talking, she watched your face carefully, searching for any sign of discomfort, âa long fucking time.âÂ
Your jaw went slack when she curled her fingers, gasping when she found that spot that made you see stars. She paused, as though giving you a moment to adjust, unaware of just how many times you had done this with your own fingers.Â
âShit, Ellie,â you moaned, canting your hips down into her hand. She adjusted her arm, positioning herself so that the heel of her hand pressed to your clit, pulling another breathy moan from your lips. Her other hand was still on your hip; she pushed you back, guiding you to grind on her fingers. âAh - fuck.âÂ
She watched you carefully, fascinated by the way your eyes rolled back in your head, your brow furrowed; you felt her own wetness on your thigh again. Her voice was so fucking breathy when she said, âHow long have you wanted this, baby?â She hummed; releasing your hip, she ran her hand up your side to knead at your tit, her fingers so careful against you. You groaned low in your throat when she flicked her thumb over your nipple. âHow many times have you come thinking of me? Did you imagine my fingers inside you, angel? Did you moan my name?âÂ
You couldnât even think of a snarky response; you were too distracted by the way her fingers curled inside you as you fucked yourself against her. Her rough palm slid deliciously against your clit, grinding into her with a growing desperation that made your thighs shake. Your shoulders ached from holding yourself over her but it was only an afterthought as you felt a tight warmth building in your stomach. You leaned down just enough to kiss her, moaning into her mouth when words failed you.Â
âFuck, look at you,â Ellie repeated, groaning when your hips stuttered. You were lightheaded, fucking yourself desperately on her fingers, grinding down against her palm and chasing that intoxicating warmth spreading inside. âSo fucking pretty for me.âÂ
She kissed you as you came, licking into your mouth and tasting herself on your tongue. You pressed your clit down into the heel of her hand, riding it out, feeling the way that warmth spread down to your fingers. Ellie broke away from the kiss to trail her lips down your neck, leaving wet kisses along your skin and saving every broken moan that was gasped right into her ear.Â
Ellie didnât move as you came down, letting you ride out your high, tracing gentle circles down your side. You slumped against her, your arms giving out; your weight landing on her forced all the air from her lungs. She only laughed breathlessly.Â
It was several long moments before you were able to move again. Ellie ran her fingers through your hair as you gasped into her neck; she hummed absently and you could feel the vibration against your lips.Â
When you were able to, you slowly lifted yourself off of her, wincing slightly at the sudden emptiness. With gentle hands, she guided you back down to lay beside her; you curled up against her without waiting for her invitation, resting a hand on her bare chest so you could feel the steady pounding of her heart.Â
Ellie didnât wait for invitation either before she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you closer; she was blissfully warm against the suddenly cold air. Something tugged pleasantly at your chest at the realization that you would no longer have to monitor your own movements so carefully - you could touch her, you realized, any time you wanted now. God, how were you going to ever stop now?Â
Without anything else to say, you sighed against her skin: âA long fucking time.âÂ
Ellie hummed, giggling at your delayed answer. The fairy lights on her walls cast the room in a warm glow; with the hazy lights around you, you would almost believe this was a dream if Ellie wasnât so solid and warm beneath your fingers. You traced the freckles across her chest, connecting constellations you had seen her chart before.Â
Her voice was so quiet in the small room when she asked, âWhat do we do now?âÂ
You hummed, feeling sleep winning the war inside you. âWe can figure that out tomorrow,â you said, pressing a kiss to her collarbone. Tilting your head, you leaned up just enough to kiss her, warm and deep and breathless, before moving away to meet her eyes. âJust donât fucking run off again, okay?âÂ
#ellie williams#ellie tlou#ellie williams smut#ellie williams x reader#ellie x reader#ellie x fem reader#lesbian smut#ellie x you#ellie the last of us#ellie williams tlou#tlou smut#tlou 2 x reader#sorry for the novel#hope u enjoyed#smash that like button idk
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context: being megumiâs nanny whilst toji has a crush on you (female reader)
warnings: none, just fluff
character: Toji Fushiguro from JJK
m.list
âStay for dinnerâ had left Tojiâs lips, a grocery bag full of ingredients in his arms. He hadnât felt like this for years, the nerves, the uncertainty, even vulnerability. The last woman he had ever cooked dinner for was Megumiâs mother. After that, he had only ever bought enough food for himself and Megumi, not that the small child ate so much. His arms flex around the bag as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. âOr not. Itâs up to yaâ
You watched him shift his gaze from yours to something else in the kitchen. He was certainly acting like a different man, so unlike the cold one you met when he had hired you as Megumiâs nanny. Warning you that if you so much as left a scratch on Megumiâs skin youâd be âdealt withâ. The same man who had threatened you, was now asking you to stay for dinner. âOh uhm, you mean you want me to make dinner for you and Megumi?â
âNoâ Toji frowns, placing the bag on the kitchen counter and starting to take out the food. âI pay you to take care of my son, not me. Like hell Iâd ask you to cook for me, a grown man. Iâm asking if ya want to stay for dinnerâ
You both hear small feet running through the hallway, Megumi rushing over to you, earning a roll of Tojiâs eyes. He knew how smitten Megumi was with you, he liked you more than his own father, at least thatâs what it looked like from the outside. âIs Y/n staying the night?â Megumi asks, small hands gripping your pants.
âNot the nightâ you laugh softly, scooping Megumi up in your arms. Seeing the resemblance of the same grumpy face Toji made whenever he was unsatisfied with something. âBut I guessâŠfor dinner? Would you like that Megumi?â
The small boy nods his head, a rare smile on his lips. One that disappeared when his father walked up to you two, taking Megumi from your arms. The pout on the small boys lips only deepened as he made grabby hands towards you. âYou donât even say hello to your dad when he comes home?â
Megumi doesnât answer, so much sass for a toddler you think. The relationship between Toji and Megumi was a little difficult to understand from first glance, but after having been a nanny for a few months for the Fushiguroâs, you knew the two showed their love in their own way. Even with Megumiâs pout and silent treatment, he leaned into his fatherâs neck, his chubby cheek smushing against Tojiâs collarbone.
âLet me make dinner and you can spend time with Megumiâ you suggest, already starting to go through the food Toji had bought. Trying to figure out what the dinner plans were.
âYouâre not my maid, Iâm not expecting you to make food Y/nâ Toji places Megumi on the floor, ruffling his hair before quickly making his way to you. Fingers wrapping around your wrist to stop you and take the onion out of your hands.
âToji Iââ you turn your head to look at the taller man, only now realizing how close he was. His fingers still wrapped around your wrist, chest brushing against your shoulder. Body heat radiating off of him as you caught a whiff of his natural musky scent. âI insist, I canât possibly just watch you make food. I want to helpâ
Slowly, he places the onion back in your hand before backing away. Reaching for a cookbook that you knew belonged to Megumiâs mother. Megumi often talked about it, how Toji always followed the recipes from the cookbook because those were the recipes his mom used to cook. Not that Megumi had tasted her cooking, but it was what Toji had told him.
Toji opens to a page that had the recipe to make vegetable soup. A few scribbles over the original recipe that had changed some measurements and added ingredients. âMegumiâs mom added her own ingredients and liked to change the recipe to her own likingâ Toji speaks up when seeing you stare at the scribbles. âIt tasted better like this so, I follow the same recipeâ
You let out a hum, starting to prepare the food. Taking out a pot and getting out the ingredients to make the broth. Megumi sitting in the living room, watching TV with the two dogs. You and Toji working together in the kitchen was foreign, Megumi was used to only having one adult at home at a time. You were always here during the days and leaving whenever Toji came home from his work. Or whenever Toji had his night shifts, you stayed the night, sleeping on the couch or in the same bed as Megumi to comfort him after a nightmare. And then you left in the morning yet again when Toji came home. So it was something completely new for Megumi to hear the laughter and chatter from the kitchen. The house was lively for once.
âMake sure to follow the recipe exactlyâ Toji grabs your hand, stopping you from adding salt to the boiling soup. Handing you a teaspoon instead of eyeballing it. âIt has to be like itâs writtenâ
Without hesitation, you follow the recipe exactly and add 3/4 of a teaspoon into the soup. It was clear it went deeper than just the flavor of the food. But deciding not to bring it up, you set the table and tell Megumi food is done instead.
For the first time there were 3 people sitting and eating at the table together. Megumi looked between the two of you, liking how it made him feel to have the two of you here at the same time.
After dinner, Toji is the one to put Megumi to sleep. Tucking him in under the blanket as the two dogs go and sleep in their dog beds put beside Megumiâs bed. âSleep well bratâ Toji says as he ruffles the small boys hair before standing up.
âCan Y/n move in?â The small boy asks before Toji leaves the room. Standing by the doorway, back facing Megumi as his fingers stay on the light switch.
âWhat?â He asks, slightly shocked from the sudden question. Toji knew Megumi liked you, more than any of the other Nannieâs, but asking you to move in? That took him by surprise. âY/n is just a nanny Megumi, sheâs notâŠâ he lets out a sigh, not even knowing himself what he was going to say.
âYou laughedâ
âHm?â Toji turns around, eyes meeting his sonâs dark blue eyes. Perhaps the only feature he has gotten from him and not his mother.
âYou laughed today, you never laugh. Doesnât that mean she makes you happy too?â
Toji stays silent, wondering how on earth his child was asking him questions like these. âJust, go to sleep Megumiâ
Walking downstairs, Tojiâs frown deepened furthermore when he sees you pack up your things. The kitchen table clean, dishes washed, leftover soup put in the fridge. âI hope youâre aware youâre staying the nightâ
âSorry?â You jump slightly, not having heard him come downstairs.
âItâs late, Iâm not letting you go out there alone. Just stay the night, sleep in my bed and Iâll take the couchâ he says casually, one arm on his hip. Wearing his usual clothes, compression shirt and sweatpants. It was honestly a little hard to concentrate on what he was saying, sometimes you wondered if Toji himself knew how handsome he is.
âYour bed? Oh no no no no, I couldnât possibly do that. Iâll sleep on the sofa itâs fine, I often sleep on it whenever you have a nightshiftâ
âStubbornâ Toji grumbles under his breath, getting a blanket and pillow for you. Placing them on the sofa as you hesitantly sit down. âIâm giving you a raiseâ
âA what?â Too much was happening, honestly. You didnât quite understand what was going on. Toji inviting you to stay for dinner, then to stay the night, and now giving you a raise? It was all so unusual of him, yet he seemed unfazed.
âA raiseâ he repeats, sitting down beside you. âWhatever keeps you around, Megumi obviously likes you and Iâve been earning well recently. I can afford to pay you moreâ
âToji I canât possibly accept that, you already pay me more than any other nanny job Iâve had. If you give me any more I feel like Iâm stealing from youâ
He lets out a snicker, resting his arm at the back of the couch as his body was turned towards you. He was so close, not saying a word, just gazing into your eyes. It was a rare moment, to see Toji up close like this. You could count his eyelashes, see the stubble he was too lazy to shave immediately, the dark circles under his eyes from long shifts, the scar on his lip more apparent now. All you could do was admire his face, waiting for a reply after your statement. âToji?â
âYou know, I didnât like you in the beginningâ his voice comes out softer than usual. Eyes not leaving yours, it was intimidating andâŠsomething else. âYou took so good care of Megumi, didnât ask any questions about his mother, did your job perfectly, didnât give into my bullshit or threats. I didnât like it, because I knew Iâd get attachedâ he confessed, swallowing hard. âI canât do this without you Y/n. You bring a certain type of energy the other Nannieâs failed to do. Megumi likes you so much, even on my days off when I take care of him, he asks if youâre coming over. Heâs gotten used to you, I donât think I can find any other person out there who can take care of Megumi the way you doâŠso if giving you more money will get you to stay even longer, thatâs exactly what Iâll doâ
Your eyes were wide open, listening intently to what Toji was saying. It was clearly hard for him to be open like this, every once in awhile looking away from your eyes and down at his hand instead. The same hand his wedding ring used to be on. âIâm not going anywhere Tojiâ you reassure, placing your hand on top of his. It was almost like a reflex. Whenever Megumi was upset you always held his hands and told him everything was going to be okay. âI didnât accept the job to get paid well, I liked your family, thatâs why I chose to come and be a nanny for Megumi. It had nothing to do with money, and it never will. Iâll stay and take care of Megumi for as long as youâll have meâ
Toji lets out a chuckle, looking down at your soft hands holding onto his rough one. âEven when Megumi is a teenager, youâll still be his nanny if I want you to be? Pack him his school lunch, make sure he stays out of trouble, watch him on the porch with me as he walks to the school bus?â
âIf thatâs what you wantâ you whisper, softly caressing the skin on top of his hand. The house was silent, all you could hear was the drumming of your heartbeat in your ears. Was this really happening, was this Tojiâs way of confessing. You would be lying if you said you didnât have feelings for the man. Youâve just always decided to be professional, take care of Megumi, that was your job. Yet you were still here, on the couch with Toji, holding his hand.
âWhat if I lose you tooâŠâ
You had never heard Toji with such a softness to his voice before. He looked so fragile and vulnerable in the moment, you didnât know how to react. Reaching out your hand, you brush his bangs behind his ear, letting your fingers glide down his cheek, cupping it. âWe canât know anything for certain, but I swear Toji, Iâll never willingly leave you or Megumi. You wonât lose meâ
Without hesitation, Toji leans in and places his lips on yours. Muscular arms wrapping around your body and pulling it against his. The palms of his hands rest against your warm skin, making sure you donât pull away as his lips move against yours, gently. So gently it felt as if he was scared heâd hurt you. Feather light kisses trailing down your jaw and neck before connecting his lips right back with yours once again.
You could feel the texture of his scar against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine. Pulling him even closer, the kiss deepens. More desperate. Toji became more confident, feeling how your body reacted to his touch. You liked it, even craved it. So did he, it had been such a long time since he had kissed anyone, and he couldnât have been happier that it was you who changed that.
âI had a nightmareâ
Both you and Toji freeze, pulling away from the kiss, noses bumping into each others. Turning your head to the staircase, Megumi stood between the two dogs, rubbing his teary eyes as he looked at the two of you.
Tojiâs arms were still wrapped loosely around you, a part of him not wanting to let go. Clearing his throat, he looked at you before he spoke up âwant to sleep in my bed?â He asked the small child, Megumi nodding his head immediately.
âWith Y/n tooâ
âWith Y/n tooâ Toji repeated his sonâs words, standing up from the couch and reaching out his hand for you.
Megumi fell asleep soundly between his father and nanny that night. The first night of many more to come.
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