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punkshort · 2 months

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Swept Away | Chapter 4: Tropical Heat

Pairing: sugardaddy!Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: The first day on Glenn's yacht is much more dramatic than you originally expect.

Chapter Warnings: language, slow burn, sugar daddy/baby vibes, food and alcohol consumption, intoxication, reader gets drunk and snippy, mentions of past infidelity, flirting, sexual tension, jealousy, one tiny daddy reference, nausea/vomiting, joel gets mean but he makes up for it (he sucks at feelings)

WC: 8.5K

Series Masterlist

"I'm so excited for tomorrow. Glenn's yacht is supposed to be massive. Like, full crew, multiple levels. The type you'd usually charter but he actually owns it." Zoe sighed dreamily next to you at the hotel salon. You were listening but your eyes were pinned on your nails, watching as the technician managed to make your hands look like they were out of a catalogue in less than an hour.

"Yeah, that - it sounds really cool," you replied. "Should be fun. Joel said there's some tiny islands we might check out or something."

Zoe nodded excitedly. "Zach said there's one called Monu Island. We're supposed to have dinner there the first night."

"Dinner? How?" you asked. She looked at you like you had two heads.

"The crew brings the stuff to shore for us and cooks?" she said as if she were explaining how to ride a bike. Shit. You probably should have known something like that if you were pretending to be in the upper, upper class.

"Oh, yeah, I knew that," you said with a nervous laugh, "I meant how are they going to get us off that yacht? The more I keep hearing about it, the harder it's going to be to pull me away from it."

Zoe giggled and you inwardly breathed a sigh of relief.

"Maybe you can convince Joel buy one for yourselves. He can certainly afford it," she told you with a wink.

"Yeah, and Zach can't?"

She shrugged, smile still stretched across her face but you could see something shifting in her eyes. "Can I tell you something?"

You nodded and leaned a little closer.

"I don't think Zach's doing very well. Business-wise."

Your eyes widened, encouraging her to continue.

"I don't know for sure, but I have overheard a few conversations and I get the feeling if he doesn't win this bid, his hotel chain is done for."

"Oh, no," you breathed, brows crinkling with concern. "Zoe, I'm so sorry."

She gave you a confused look but quickly recovered. "Oh, thanks. It's no big deal, you know. I'll be just fine."

What did that mean? Zoe would be just fine if Zach went bankrupt? How?

You wanted to press her further but you could tell the door closed. She was looking down at her freshly manicured nails with a huge smile then held them up to your face and wiggled them around.

"What do you think?"

She had picked a white nail polish with a faint hint of sparkle. The color did look very nice against her tanned skin and you told her so right when your technician released your hands, announcing you were all set. Pulling your fingers from the blue light, you admired them up close.

"Alright, I'll admit it. I questioned your color choice before but damn, that looks so pretty on you," Zoe said enviously as she examined your hot pink nails with a glitter top coat.

"Thanks," you gushed, hardly able to tear your eyes away after you left the salon and headed for the elevators. You could count on one hand how many times you ever got your nails done in the past and it was always for a special occasion: prom, a wedding... maybe once when someone got you a gift certificate for Christmas. It felt like such a treat and it gave you a nice little confidence boost.

You waved to Zoe when she got off on her floor, vowing to see each other in the morning bright and early on the dock, then rode the elevator the rest of the way to your floor.

It was difficult to contain your excitement when you entered the room, but you remained quiet because you heard Joel's voice carrying from the living room. He had someone on speaker who was discussing budgets and employee turnover so you snuck past him and headed towards your room to pack.

How much does one person need for two days? Not a lot, probably. But you weren't very clear on the dress code. Was this going to be casual? You already noticed if Glenn organizes the parties, the vibe is much more relaxed but Mary tends to make it a little more formal when she handles things.

After packing a swimsuit, two coverups, one set of pajamas (which you agonized over when you remembered you would be sharing a bed with Joel), and three different options for daytime wear, you went back out into the living room to see if Joel would know what you should pack for the evenings.

"Joel?" you asked softly when you spotted him sitting quietly on the couch with his eyes closed. He tilted his head to the side and slowly opened his eyes. "Are you okay?" you asked. He nodded and stood with a groan.

"Just tired," he said right when his laptop chirped with two new emails. He began to walk towards the table but you were closer. You bravely closed his laptop with two fingers and he froze.

"C'mon, what're you doin'?" he asked, taking another step, but you shook your head and leaned forward, resting your weight on the arm that was holding his computer closed.

"You need to take a break," you told him firmly. He scowled and crossed his arms.

"I'll be takin' a break when we're on the damn yacht."

"Taking a break on the weekend is a given. You work around the clock, Joel, you need to slow down."

"I don't got time for this," he told you with a shake of his head. "I'm busy, I got a company to run."

"Well that's just too bad because I have dresses to try on and I need help picking ones to pack," you told him just as sternly. His eyes flickered up to yours and you could practically see the gears in his head turning. "I think that's far more important than some emails, don't you think?"

His mouth twitched and you could see his face soften and you knew you had him.

"Fine. Ten minutes," he relented. You grinned and skipped off to your room, and only when your back was turned did he allow himself to smile.

Joel sat patiently on your bed while you tried on the handful of dresses you grabbed and put in the bathroom, waltzing back into your room every few minutes with a new one to show him.

"Darlin', I already told you. You look good in all of these."

"Yeah, but which ones are your favorites?" you pressed, doing a little twirl so he could see the back of the pink dress you were currently wearing. "And what will we be doing? Like, how formal are these evenings going to be?"

He shook his head, his eyes glued to the curve of your back when you spun around again. "Not that formal. One night we'll be on the beach, the other night just on the deck."

You nodded and tapped your chin with your finger. Any of the dresses you had would do now that he told you it wasn't that formal, but you were pushing twenty minutes of no laptop or cell phone useage and you really wanted him to take a longer break from work, so you had an idea.

"Okay, just one more. I'll be right back," you told him, scurrying off to the bathroom to slip into a deep purple dress that just so happened to be the shortest one in the bunch by a mile. You weren't sure what Joel's assistant was thinking buying you something so short and tight. When you looked in the mirror, the fabric clung to your curves, leaving very little to the imagination with only two thin spaghetti straps to hold it up.

Obviously it was too inappropriate to wear on the yacht, but that didn't stop you from taking a deep, nervous breath and strolling back into your bedroom with what you hoped was an air of innocence.

He was leaning back on his elbows when you walked in, eyes drifting around your room and taking note of the items you kept on your nightstand, but when he saw what you were wearing he straightened right up.

"What do you think?" you asked as you twirled, but that time you made sure to take it slow.

"It's, uh..." his throat when dry when he saw how perfectly the dress hugged your ass and he had to clear his throat. "Nice," he finally managed to say. You fought back a smirk when you heard the strain in his voice.

"Yeah?" you asked, looking down at the dress. "I don't know, the material is a little rough."

Joel swallowed when you ran your hands slowly down the fabric, your palms traversing over your soft curves, making his fingers twitch.

As if you read his mind, you looked back up at him with a little pout and asked, "you wanna feel?"

Without hesitation, he spread his knees and beckoned you over with two fingers. You grinned and stepped forward, stopping when you stood between his legs, his mouth mere inches away from your stomach.

You could feel his hot breath through the dress and you had to suppress a tingle down your spine, but when he lifted his hands to cup the backs of your bare thighs, you couldn't hide your reaction that time. You made a little noise in the back of your throat when his fingers squeezed your legs and he looked up at you, eyes so dark and filled with lust that it took your breath away.

"This okay?"

"Mhmm," you hummed, your hands coming up to his shoulders so you could balance yourself. His fingers inched up your legs slowly, tentatively exploring without giving into his deepest desires. But fuck... if he wanted to, you would have let him.

He slid his hands up the sides of your thighs, his fingers catching a bit on the hem of your dress before reaching your hips. He caressed the material there with both hands, each of you still pretending as if the fabric of the dress was any concern.

"See what I mean?" you whispered. Slowly, he nodded, but his eyes remained pinned on your body, his gaze drinking in every inch of you, committing you to memory.

"Fuck, you look good," he murmured as if it pained him, letting the facade slip for a moment. Your heart fluttered in your chest and you began to play with the curls on the back of his head. He tilted his chin to look up at you, his lips parted and his cheeks a little flushed. Nothing else had happened since that afternoon in the ocean when he kissed you other than leaving you completely confused about the nature of your relationship. But in that moment, you couldn't care less. All you wanted was to feel his lips on yours again, to feel that spark of electricity over your skin, so you leaned down a fraction, your gaze flicking from his eyes to his lips, making your intention crystal clear.

Just as you were about to brush your lips against his, he pulled his head away and dropped his hands. Immediately, you straightened back up, embarrassment warming your face while you tried to figure out what you did wrong.

"We can't," was all he said, eyes drifting to look everywhere except at you. You nodded and quickly stepped back, shame coursing through your veins.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice cracking a bit. You cleared your throat and repeated yourself then hurried out of the room to get changed.

Joel called your name, asking you to come back, but you were too ashamed. Instead, you slipped back into the bathroom and practically ripped the purple dress off out of anger, vowing to tuck it way back into the depths of your closet so you wouldn't have to look at it the entire rest of the trip.

By the following morning, you forced yourself to brush off the awkwardness with Joel from the day before. You had three more weeks to spend with him pretending to be his fianceé and you refused to let one uncomfortable situation dictate the rest of your time there. So you plastered on a big smile for him the next morning when you exited your room with your bags in each hand. You could tell he wasn't sure how to react. He tiptoed lightly around you, making sure he didn't even accidentally touch you as you both moved around the hotel room collecting everything you would need.

In the elevator ride down to the lobby, he tried to bring it up but you cut him off before he could even finish his sentence.

"Did you remember your seasick medication?"

He floundered for a moment, scanning your face for any sign of bitterness, but he found none. If you wanted to pretend it never happened, that was fine by him.

"Yeah," he finally said, and you nodded before turning to stare straight ahead at the closed elevator doors.

He didn't try to mention it again.

When you arrived at the dock with the sun just beginning to peek over the water, casting the ocean in a beautiful golden hue, you felt your mood instantly improve. You were in fucking paradise and nothing was going to ruin that for you.

The crew was loading up your belongings and you were chatting with Glenn and Mary about how excited you were when Glenn's phone pinged in his hand.

He tugged his glasses out of his shirt pocket so he could read the text and he let out a disappointed groan.

"Ian's got food poisoning, Harry says," he told the three of you, "they can't make it. That's a damn shame."

"Oh, that's terrible. I hope it's not too serious," Mary said sympathetically.

You heard the telltale sound of heels tapping on the wooden planks behind you and you turned around to see the rest of the couples, along with Trevor and Brooks, arriving. The crew hurried past to assist with their bags and for the first time all day, Joel wrapped an arm around your waist. Your muscles stiffened at first and he felt it. Guilt washed over him before he cleared his throat and lifted his other hand in greeting. Zoe spotted you and waved excitedly, her energy just as infectious in the early morning hours.

When you spotted Tammy a few yards behind Zoe, your smile faltered a bit. You still hadn't brought up what you learned to Joel. Did you even have a right to know about his past with Tammy? You thought you did given how it could blow your cover, but maybe it was just gossip.

Still, it got under your skin.

When Zoe greeted you with a hug, you caught the look of distaste Tammy shot to Lynne before turning her head to gaze out over the ocean. It couldn't just be in your head at this point. There was definitely something going on with these women that you were not privy to yet.

Joel took your hand and lead you aboard the yacht, once again feeling the discomfort at his touch radiating off you.

He handled everything all wrong, he knew that almost immediately. It was all his fault. He was weak that day in the ocean and couldn't stop himself from kissing you, and now you were confused and hurt, but there was a reason he didn't want a traditional sugar baby agreement. He needed to keep his eye on the prize and stay focused, not standing there pretending to admire the lavish sitting room Glenn was showing everyone while wondering if you were wearing the lingerie he purchased for you.

How the hell did you manage to weave your way into his psyche so fast?

After the tour of the yacht, which was luxurious and had three levels, you were shown your private rooms, all of which included your own bathroom and a window so you could admire the sea from bed.

Joel ticked his jaw to the side as he looked around while you began to unpack a few of your things.

"I can sleep on the floor," he said. Your back was to him but he saw your hands freeze inside your bag before you took a deep breath and continued to pull out your toiletries.

"Don't be ridiculous. We can manage two nights in the same bed."

Even though you couldn't see him, he nodded anyway. He should just say it. Say he's sorry. Sorry for all of it. Sorry for leading you on, sorry for hurting your feelings, sorry for staring at your legs and wondering what they would feel like wrapped around his head.

The guests slowly made their way into the indoor sitting area once they settled in. If there wasn't an entire wall made of glass so you could look out the back of the yacht, you would have thought you were in another mansion. The carpet was plush and white under your feet. When you saw how pristine it was, you almost wanted to ask if you should take your sandals off, but instead you took Joel's lead and left them on.

There were three long, white couches that formed a U shape around a large, cherry wood coffee table. Above your heads the ceiling was dotted and lined with soft lights, giving the whole room a very warm and inviting glow. Abstract art hung on the walls but there wasn't much space: any wall that bordered the sea was made of glass. And across from the couches, built up against an interior wall was a bar that appeared to be stocked with every liquor and mixer known to man.

The crew had poured glasses of champagne and mimosas and left them on the bar. They were standing at attention against the wall near the kitchen, waiting to jump into action if need be.

Joel picked up two mimosas and handed you one. You nearly declined when you noted the early hour but decided to take it anyway with a quiet thanks.

"Meant to tell you, I like your nails," Joel said, pointing to your fingers wrapped around your glass. You gave him a small smile before looking back down at your glittery, hot pink nails.

"Thanks," you said, wishing you felt as excited about them as you were yesterday.

Glenn clapped his hands loudly, commanding the attention of the room. He let everyone know breakfast would be served on the dining room on the deck in ten minutes and encouraged people to grab a drink before heading out.

The moment the glass doors were opened, your senses were overcome with fresh, sea-salt air and an occasional fine mist that was being vented above the partially enclosed area.

Everyone found a seat around the square table that was already set with beautiful white plates trimmed in gold with matching bowls and mugs. When the crew began to place trays of fruit, baked goods, meats, eggs, and yogurt on the table, you leaned into Joel and tapped his shoulder.

"Did you take your medicine?" you whispered.

He smiled and put his glass down so he could fish the bottle of pills from his pocket.

"Thank you. That woulda been ugly," he joked, making you giggle before reaching for the tray of fruit. His chest warmed at the sound, pleased to see you smiling again but damn near giddy that he was the one to make you laugh.

You weren't terribly hungry but you nibbled at some fruit and yogurt, knowing you should at least try to eat something if you were expected to keep up with the way the group drank.

After about an hour at the table where you nursed the same mimosa Joel had given you earlier, Glenn stood up and suggested the men go to the top floor for cigars and poker.

"Looks like it's just us, ladies," Mary said gleefully when all the men began to place their cloth napkins on the table and, collecting their own drinks, stood to follow Glenn up the stairs.

"You good?" Joel asked softly before he left. You quickly nodded and shooed him off. You were still feeling rather vulnerable from being shot down the day before but you could feel yourself coming around. Maybe some distance and distraction would help.

If only you knew what the day had in store.

By noon the sun was blazing, the heat seared your skin as you laid out on your lounge chair with the other women. You could smell the faint hint of cigar smoke and hear the laughter from the men up above, but you couldn't see them from where you were. Occasionally you would hear Joel's voice, his southern twang becoming deeper and louder the more he drank and you found yourself smiling.

You were at least three drinks deep and you felt completely relaxed. All your concerns drifted away, getting twisted in the breeze and floating over the water. You even managed to find Tammy somewhat tolerable as you listened to her tell the group about her teenage son and a girl he was dating.

Maybe Zoe was wrong. Maybe it was just a rumor. Tammy seemed to be happy and fulfilled. She had what appeared to be a very strong marriage with Scott and they had two boys. By all accounts, they appeared to be a very happy family.

"I think I'm gonna take a break in the shade," Zoe announced, fanning herself while she picked up her things.

"Okay, dear. There should be chilled bottles of water out but if not, just ask the bartender. He can get you whatever you need," Mary told her while she adjusted her enormous sun hat.

"I think I'll join you," you said, suddenly feeling like your mouth was coated in sand. You couldn't even remember drinking any water since the hotel that morning.

The three other women waved politely when you stood and followed Zoe back inside where the air conditioning embraced you like an old friend.

"Oh, god, that feels nice," you groaned. The room was empty except for one bartender who was taking stock of the liquor with a clipboard. He quickly set it aside when Zoe approached and asked for two waters. You picked a couch and set your things down next to you with a sigh, then thanked Zoe when she handed you a frosted glass bottle of water.

Both of you practically chugged your respective drinks in under a minute, then giggled when you realized how crazy you must have looked.

"We gotta pace ourselves," Zoe said with a grin and a shake of her head. "It's gonna be a long night. Zach said we aren't supposed to reach the island til six, and with the time it will take for the crew to set up and cook, we'll be eating dinner late."

"That means we'll be getting back here even later," you said, finishing her thought.

She nodded and tossed her hair over her shoulder, her eyes a little glassy and her cheeks a little pink, either from the sun or alcohol or both. But based on the way she couldn't stop laughing at the smallest thing, you suspected alcohol was the bigger reason. When she glanced at you and erupted into a fit of giggles again without having to say a word, you knew for sure she was a little past tipsy.

"What?" you laughed, her silly mood too contagious to resist.

"Nothing, nothing," she said with a wave, then seemed to think about it for a second before giving you a mischievous grin and leaned forward, cupping her hand around her mouth in an attempt to muffle her voice, but it didn't work.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

You shrugged and nodded. "Sure."

She giggled again, slapping her palm over her mouth and tucking her chin against her chest. You frowned and laughed at how ridiculous she was acting and wondered what on earth she was about to say.

She cupped her hand over her mouth again and whispered loudly, "how is Joel in bed?"

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise at her question. Instantly, images and daydreams of what you thought Joel would be like in bed flashed across your mind. What the weight of his body would feel like pressed against yours, pushing you into the mattress. How his lips would feel wrapped around your nipple, his teeth teasing and pinching your skin. Would he kiss you slow and deep or passionate and needy? Would he groan your name when he buried his cock deep inside you? What was his favorite position?

All these things and more you had found yourself wondering more times than you could count since a few days ago in the ocean. He had completely taken over your mind to the point where you could hardly remember the girl you were when you first met, sitting in his office ready to storm out because of his abrupt and seemingly unpleasant nature.

You cleared your throat as you bought some time to scrounge up a lie.

"He's... good. Really good," you added. She nodded excitedly and rolled her wrist, urging you to continue. "He's attentive and... he doesn't rush." You could feel your cheeks heating up when you realized you were just telling her what you wished he was like, what you wished any of the men you had been with were like, only to always fall short in some way or another. "I'm not saying he can't be-" you glanced over your shoulder before lowering your voice, "rougher, because he can. There's been times I can hardly move after," you giggled and she gasped enthusiastically. "But he's always so sweet when we're done. He takes such good care of me, gets me whatever I need, tells me how beautiful I am." You swallowed, feeling only slightly pathetic at how you were turning yourself on with your own lies.

"How about Zach? What's he like?" you asked, changing the subject. Her face fell and she waved you off before taking another sip of water.

"Girl, c'mon, you know the answer to that."

Now it was your turn to gasp but the corners of your mouth twitched into a playful smile.

"What do you mean?"

She rolled her eyes at you and sighed. "You've seen him. He's not hiding anything spectacular, I promise you that."

Zach was significantly older than Zoe. Their age difference especially showed when he stood after sitting for a while, groaning deeply and usually needing a hand to steady himself, or when his phone alarm went off at various times during the day, volume practically maxed out, reminding him to take some pill. But you never got the impression Zoe was unhappy until now.

"So why are you with him?" you asked. Of course, you had to assume his money had something to do with it, but her answer was still not what you expected.

"Can you keep a secret?" she asked conspiratorially. You nodded and leaned forward. Zoe glanced around to make sure nobody else snuck into the massive sitting room before she whispered, "I'm a sugar baby."

"Y-you're... what?" you asked, your voice wavering. Fuck, you really wished you didn't have that last mojito. You were trying to keep your cool but your vision was swimming and your mind was buzzing.

"I think Tammy and Lynne suspect something. I think that's why they don't like me," she said, leaning back and gazing out to the ocean. "Nobody knows for sure, you can't say a word," she said, fear suddenly gripping her. "If Glenn found out, it would be over for Zach. Glenn holds way too much weight on family shit. He already isn't thrilled with our age difference," she sighed, gazing down at her freshly manicured nails. "But between you and me, I hope he doesn't get this land. He wouldn't be able to afford me anymore. Like, I want what's best for him and I want him to be happy, but this relationship is running its course, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah," you breathed, "wow, I had no idea."

She shrugged and picked up her phone. "It's really not a bad gig, but it would be a hell of a lot better if the guys looked like Joel instead of Zach," she giggled.

You laughed softly and took another sip of your water, your mind reeling. The pressure to pull off this little stint was mounting. Joel wasn't the only one who noticed Glenn was a man with family values and tried to do the exact same thing, and now more than ever Joel's alleged affair with Tammy seemed like a huge loose end that could jeopardize your whole lie.

Your nerves got the best of you. Looking back on it, you should have realized that before having two more drinks with lunch, but Zoe's bombshell left you rattled and you got carried away.

Around four in the afternoon, the men returned from the upper deck with their skin pink and their shirts a little damp from sweat, but they were all smiles when they stepped out onto the deck to find their partners with the exception of Glenn's sons, who came by themselves.

Joel didn't notice at first how tipsy you were because you did your best to hide behind a pair of sunglasses and a large hat. He sat down on the lounge chair near yours, looking like he had a couple drinks himself but not nearly as many as you. He appeared relaxed and at ease, no doubt pleased by whatever progress he made with Glenn in the past few hours.

"How's everythin' goin' down here?" he asked, his eyes scanning around the crowd of people who were beginning to mingle.

"Good," you said, "I found out some very interesting information that-" you hiccupped and covered your mouth, "that you would find interesting."

He raised an eyebrow at you and smirked. "Interesting information that I would find interesting?"

"Mhmm," you said, nodding vigorously this time. "I will tell you later," you added, unnecessarily enunciating each word, "when we're alone," you whispered, not realizing your voice was still rather loud. It didn't matter anyway, nobody could overhear you when the guests were all breaking up into groups and talking over each other, but still.

He grinned and glanced around the deck, "Alright, then," he replied. He was about to say more when his eyes landed on someone over your shoulder and he stiffened. You were too slow on the uptake to see what Tammy was mouthing to him, but when he subtly nodded and stood up, you glanced behind you to see her walking discreetly into the yacht, leaving her clueless husband behind.

"I'll be right back," he said to you, and before you could say anything to stop him, he strolled off in her wake, leaving you all alone.

You could blame the alcohol and pretend you weren't jealous, but you were absolutely fuming. Zoe had to be right. How could he be so careless? Did he really think nobody would notice? How could he not tell you about his history with Tammy when it could all blow up in your faces?

Then something occurred to you that made your stomach roll and you had to take a few deep breaths to fight back the wave of nausea.

What if they were still having an affair?

Is that why he didn't want to take things further with you? We can't, he had said. Was he fucking another man's wife this entire time?

You never felt so stupid in your life. Of course, that's what it was. No wonder he put a clause in your contract stating that sex was not to be part of the agreement. How fucking pathetic of him to act so faithful to another man's wife.

What if he was fucking her right now?

You stood up too quickly and lost your balance, but fortunately an arm shot out to steady you.

"Hey, you okay?"

You glanced up over your sunglasses to find Brooks, one of Glenn's sons, standing there with his hand wrapped around your arm looking concerned.

Quickly, you shook your head and forced a smile. "Yeah, the sun got to me, I think," you told him, then after another moment you realized his grip around your bicep hadn't loosened. Your eyes slowly drifted down to his hand and you gave your arm a little tug. Finally, he released you and you gave him a polite chuckle before fixing your cover up so you would feel less exposed in your bikini under his gaze.

"My dad says we should be reaching the island soon," he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his board shorts. They were neon blue and hung low on his hips. Almost too low, as if he were trying to draw your attention to it.

"Yeah, it sounds great. Should be fun," you mumbled, glancing around the deck, still not finding Joel or Tammy.

"Ever been here before?" he asked, tilting his head to the side. You shook your head.

"To Fiji? No," you answered.

"I'm surprised. It's a pretty common vacation spot for people in Joel's circle," Brooks said. If you were a little less distracted you might have picked up on the fact that he said Joel's circle and not your circle, but you didn't. You were too fixated on your anger and you were fueled by one too many drinks.

"Yeah - would you excuse me? I need to use the restroom," you said, gathering your things in your arms.

"Sure thing," he said, taking a step back so you could brush past him. "See you at dinner."

You gave him what you hoped was a polite wave before storming towards the glass doors that led into the yacht, but just when you were a few feet away, the door swung open and Tammy stepped out. It could have been your paranoia, but you thought she had a little smirk on her face when she passed by you and after that, all you saw was red.

You breezed through the sitting room. The only other people around were two servers who were quietly packing up dishware to take to the beach, then Joel suddenly appeared in the entryway that led back to your room wearing a different shirt than before and you clenched your teeth.

"Hey, was just comin' to get you," he said, not yet picking up on your anger. "You should get ready for dinner, we'll be there soon."

You narrowed your eyes at him and crossed your arms, uncaring that you could be overheard when you spat, "whatever you say, daddy," your tone clipped and dripping with disdain.

The muscles in his jaw twitched and his nostrils flared when he finally sensed your energy. He looked up, catching the eye of one of the crew members, who quickly averted his gaze and pretended not to have overheard what you said, then grabbed your arm.

You had the presence of mind not to fight him and cause a scene, but once he hauled you halfway down the hallway towards some privacy, you wrenched your arm out of his hold.

"The hell's the matter with you?" he seethed. "Are you fuckin' drunk?"

You rolled your shoulder, trying to fix your coverup that slipped down your arm while staring daggers at him.

"What's the matter with me?" you repeated, "what about you? What are you doing? Do you really think nobody sees what's going on?"

He furrowed his brow in confusion and made a face. "What are you talkin' 'bout?"

You took a menacing step forward and lowered your voice. "I'm talking about Tammy, Joel."

His eyes flashed with something you couldn't identify and you hardly had a chance to react before he grabbed your arm again and practically dragged you the rest of the way down the hall towards your room. Once you were safely inside, he slammed the door behind him and stalked over to you, making you stumble backwards in surprise.

"What the hell do you know 'bout that?"

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, trying to push down the wave of envy that bubbled up. "So it is true."

"Answer my fuckin' question," he growled, his eyes steely and his breath coming in quick. You shrugged and tried your best not to look nervous while being the target of his wrath.

"That you're having an affair," you said simply.

He stared down at you for what felt like hours before he exhaled and stepped back. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head before murmuring, "who told you?"

"Zoe," you sneered, taking one step backwards so you could rest your head against the wall. "Guess that means Zach knows, too."

"Fuck," he grumbled, then dragged his palms down his face in agony. "Fuck!" he said again, but shouted it that time and pounded his fist on top of a dresser.

You watched him nervously as he paced around the room, his anger beginning to sober you up a bit.

"You should have told me," you snapped. He swiveled around to look at you, his jaw so tight he could have cracked a tooth. "You could have ruined this entire thing but you're lucky I was quick on my feet and covered for you."

"You only need to know what I say you need to know," he said darkly, sending a shiver down your spine. "You were hired to do a job, so fuckin' do it."

You swallowed the lump in your throat when you saw the look in his eye.

"I'm trying, but you-"

"No," he said, cutting you off and closing the distance between you. "You were hired to look pretty and act like you're in love with me. That's fuckin' it. Everythin' else is none of your goddamn business."

You were just digging your own grave at that point so you figured there was no harm in tossing one more barb his way.

"Suppose it would have been too much to ask for you to at least tell me why you left sex out of our arrangement, but at least I know now it's not me. It's 'cause you're getting it somewhere else."

He inhaled sharply, his scowl cutting you in half.

"That's what this is 'bout?" he asked, stepping even closer. "You got your feelin's hurt yesterday?" His tone implied insincere pity and it sent a jolt of embarrassment through you but you remained quiet and held his gaze. He somehow had managed to cage you in against the wall, his arms bracing around your head as he leaned in closer. You could now smell a hint of toothpaste on his breath from when he came in earlier, without you, and you couldn't stop your next words from tumbling out.

"Did you bring her back here and fuck her in the bed I'm going to sleep in tonight?"

He smirked. He fucking smirked and you never in your life wanted to slap someone more.

"Jealous, baby?" he cooed. You shook your head but he just continued to give you that smug look. "Oh, I think you are. And you know what else?" He was taunting you now and you should have pushed him away but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it. He leaned in so his lips brushed against your ear when he whispered, "I think you would let me fuck you right now, if I wanted to."

Tears sprung up in your eyes unexpectedly so you quickly slid them shut. You refused to let him have the satisfaction of your humiliation.

Finally, he pushed himself off the wall and gave you space so you could breathe. With your eyes still closed, he spoke again from the other side of the room.

"I was gone ten minutes. Gimme some credit. I ain't fuckin' anyone in ten minutes."

You heard him yank open the closet and you managed to crack open your eyelids with a pathetic sniffle, watching as he tossed a black dress onto the bed.

"Get ready. We'll be leavin' for the island soon." Then disappeared through the door.

It only took about five minutes before Joel calmed down when the guilt crept in again. Once more he handled another situation with you as poorly as possible and to top it off, he was fairly certain he brought you to tears when he left.

He was so fucking stupid. He should have just told you the truth. He should have told you he hadn't slept with Tammy in over a year and what they had was over, but he just had to keep pushing and pushing. How did he keep making mistake after mistake? You weren't wrong. He should have given you a heads up about Tammy, but he never thought anyone else knew. And instead of admitting it, he lashed out, taking his anger out on you when it wasn't even your fault to begin with. It was his, for being careless and stupid enough for others to find out.

When you emerged from your shared room looking refreshed and fucking stunning in the dress he had rudely thrown onto the bed, he almost apologized. He wanted to, but one look at you told him you were not at all ready to hear it, so he swallowed his words and gave you some space. Well, as much space as he could allow when you were surrounded by ten other people on a deserted beach at sunset eating dinner.

He resisted the urge to drape his arm around the back of your chair or brush his fingers against yours where they rested on the table. Please forgive me, I'm sorry, he kept thinking every time he glanced your way, but you avoided all eye contact and focused on the conversation around you.

During dinner, he noticed you had not one but two more drinks and hardly touched a thing on your plate. He wanted to say something, he wanted to encourage you to at least eat a little more, but he couldn't risk setting you off again, especially in front of everyone. So he bit his tongue and smiled politely when he needed to but mentally he was scrambling to come up with a way to make things up to you.

You stretched your neck with a sigh at one point, drawing his attention, his eyes lingering on the way your fingers trailed down your throat, then watched when you pressed two fingertips into a sore spot on the base of your neck.

How could you ever think he wouldn't want you? Of course, he wanted you. Anyone in their right mind would want you. The second he laid eyes on you it was all he could think about. How could you not see that?

Fortunately, the entire group seemed to be tired so nobody really noticed or cared that you and Joel were not very talkative. On the boat ride back, he instinctively reached for your hand when the boat swayed a little in the choppy waters, but you quickly pulled your arm out of reach and turned away.

It was past ten and the waves were rockier than earlier. He wanted to thank you again for reminding him to take his motion sickness pill but he refrained. Fuck, what he wouldn't give to go back to that part of the day and do everything over.

When the boat reached the yacht, you practically leapt off and jogged back inside, his heart sinking in his chest at your retreating form. He offered his good nights and slowly followed you with his head hung low and his hands shoved in his pockets, but when he finally reached your room he realized the real reason you had been in such a hurry.

The moment he opened the door he could hear you retching in the bathroom and his eyes widened. He closed the door behind him quickly and he rushed to the bathroom, pausing on the other side of the door, unsure what to do or say.

"Are you alright?" he finally asked.

"Does it sound like I'm alright?" you shot back before gagging once again. He winced.

"I'll get you some ginger ale and crackers," he said, spinning around the room until he found a mini refrigerator stocked with a few necessities. As expected, some seasick items were supplied, and he picked out a few things he thought might help. Setting them down on your end table, he turned around and scratched his chin.

While he waited for you to emerge, he got himself changed into more comfortable clothes and then went in search of your own pajamas to lay out for you when you were ready. In one of the drawers he found a few motion sickness bags and he left one out for you when an idea struck. Quickly, he rummaged through his pants from earlier and triumphantly pulled out a little plastic bottle of pills.

When was the last time he ever tried this hard for a woman?

Just as he was about to call out to you again, you swung open the door. Your face looked pale and your eyes were red but you remained defiant and refused to glance his way. You spotted the clothes he laid out for you, and then the items on your bedside, and he thought he saw a flicker of affection in your eyes before you blinked and it was gone.

"Here," he said, holding out the bottle for you. "Take one of these, it'll help."

You stared at it for a few moments as you weighed your options, then begrudgingly snatched it from his hand and tapped one out into your palm. Tossing the bottle onto his side of the bed, you swallowed the pill with the water he set out for you and picked up your pajamas before retreating back into the bathroom for some privacy.

By the time you had changed, Joel had already switched the television on low to some bright sitcom he thought you might like and had turned down the bed. He sat on his side of the mattress, shamefully staring down at his fingers laced together in his lap, then glanced up when he heard the door open and the light turn off.

"Thank you," you murmured before sliding into bed and pulling the covers up to your chin.

"You're welcome," he said softly. He watched you silently for a few minutes while the corners of your mouth twitched occasionally at something that was said on the television, then he cleared his throat, warning you he was about to speak.

"I'm sorry," he said, brows pinching together. You looked up at him in surprise but said nothing, so he continued. "I shoulda told you 'bout Tammy. You were right. And I shouldn't've said... that other stuff," he added weakly, looking down at his hands again. "I ain't any good at this," he continued, pursing his lips in thought. "I push people away, I say all the wrong shit, always have, and now I'm doin' it to you. And it's... it ain't right."

You scanned his face, your resolve crumbling when you saw the sincerity behind his eyes.

"It's okay," you finally said, your voice sounding so small from underneath the plush comforter.

He shook his head. "No, it ain't."

"No, but I forgive you, anyway."

He finally dragged his eyes up to meet yours and smiled. "Thank you, darlin'."

You sighed and readjusted a bit under the covers. "I'm sorry, too."

"Nothin' for you to be sorry for."

"I got too drunk and embarrassed you. It won't happen again."

He scoffed and gave you a look of disbelief. "Half the people on this boat got just as drunk as you. These people are borderline alcoholics," he said, making you giggle a little. He grinned, his heart soaring when he heard the sound. "None of 'em probably even remember we went to dinner."

You laughed a little louder at that and he joined in with a chuckle under his breath. He could feel his muscles relaxing, his nerves settling. He may have just salvaged things yet.

Joel leaned back and tucked his legs under the covers, watching the sitcom but not really absorbing anything. In the past, when he let his mind wander, it was not exactly the way he pictured being in bed with you, but it was still nice.

"Things are over with me 'n her, by the way," he said after a long, comfortable silence. Your body stiffened and you tipped your head in his direction.

"Why didn't you just tell me that to begin with?"

He grinned and shrugged. "Maybe I liked it when you got jealous."

Your cheeks flared with heat and you pulled the bedding up tighter around you.

"Asshole," you muttered. He laughed, making you smile.

"I deserved that."

He could tell when you began to drift off. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw your head tilt towards your shoulder and your perfect lips part ever so slightly. You began to snore so softly, it almost seemed fake. No one looked and sounded that beautiful when they slept. Especially after being sick. But of course, you did. He should have known.

Joel reached over and flicked the lights off, washing the room in the television's glow, then slid deeper underneath the covers. Quietly, he turned the TV off and waited until his eyes adjusted to the darkness before rolling his head to the side to look at you.

What the hell were you doing to him?

It had only been a week and he could already feel himself falling, already doing things out of character and feeling more at ease in general.

So what was one more thing?

Carefully, so as not to wake you, he inched forward and wrapped one arm around your middle, pausing to see if you would stir. When your breath remained steady and even, he got a little closer and pulled.

You took a deep breath and sighed, then rolled onto your side. He closed the remaining space between you and tucked you against his chest while snaking one arm under your pillow, the other still around your waist.

The last thing he remembered thinking was how your hair smelled like coconut and vanilla, a comforting scent he wanted to wrap himself in that was so soft and addicting, it put him right to sleep.

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jeneveuxrein · 5 months

Text

attention (TWICE Nayeon)

word count: 6.1K

(she's been on my radar since the killing voice medley, and well, yeah, enjoy!)

-- -- --

You’re seething, forcing the amber liquid down, watching the people mingle. You should introduce yourself to some because networking at events like this always gives you the chance to meet the next up and coming.

But not tonight.

You don’t even want to be here. You weren’t on the original guest list, but with last minute changes and someone’s wife suddenly going into labor, your boss forced you to attend.

Maybe the proper term is chaperone.

All you wanted to do tonight was spend some time with this woman you’ve been casually seeing. Nothing serious, nothing committal, just dinner and drinks that had the potential of ending together in a bed. You had been dragging it out, and you think it’s warranted. She makes it obvious she’s interested.

But with how this evening was looking, you’ll be spending the night with someone else.

That someone is across the room, draped over some man you’re more than likely going to have to do damage control. She’s an idol after all, and rumors will spread like a wildfire about her being linked to someone who’s nowhere near her caliber.

She catches you staring, sending a sly smirk as she leans into whatever-his-face is saying. A little too close for the company’s taste and a shit ton too much for your sake.

“Dear fuck,” You mumble, shaking your head before standing.

You don’t know what compels you to walk through the crowd, nodding politely at those that wave, but there you are, less than a meter away from where she’s seated.

“Nayeon,” You say coolly. The man quickly separates himself, going as far away from the woman in question. “Time to go. You have an early day tomorrow.”

Nayeon tilts her head, a questioning glint in her eye because she, out of all of the members, knows her schedule. She has nothing for tomorrow, except maybe rest and recovery because this is her fault you’re here.

Well, maybe you should backtrack. It’s technically your fault because if you hadn’t mentioned to Sana and Momo the plans you originally had, you wouldn’t be at some event against your will. It was an innocent question on how you were going to spend the weekend, the only mistake was that you said too much that they went running to their unnie.

“Okay,” Nayeon says slowly, standing before bidding farewell to the people at the table. You wait for her, obviously, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. “Shall we?” She asks as she turns to face you.

You nod, stepping side before bowing politely. You’ll have to send a message to the media team to stop any photos releasing of Nayeon and the man, but that could wait. There were more pressing matters that needed your attention.

It isn’t until you’re inside your car that she says something that ticks you off, “So no date with Suji-unnie tonight?”

You shake your head, composing yourself because it’s a question she knows the answer to. “Nope, duty calls. Had to be here.”

“How unfortunate,” Nayeon says casually as if she had no part in how your night turned out, slouching in the passenger seat as you shift the car into drive. “Yours or mine? ” She asks, looking out the window. Adding, “Momo’s in Japan.”

“Mine,” You answer simply, turning onto the street.

-- --

You should’ve seen it coming, but you let it happen.

The company and management would have you barred from working with anyone in the industry if they ever found out. You reasoned that was why by the time things unfolded, it was out of your control.

How it started was subtle, nothing too out of the ordinary to draw attention to her mostly. She flirted with you, commenting on your outfits about how it looked good on you and you, being you, would return the sentiment. It wasn’t anything explicit, just a polite acknowledgement of her looking great, something she heard daily from the girls and other people on the team.

She lingered to walk with you whether it was crowded or not, it didn’t matter. She was right by your side, and the times where fans were around, she’d be especially close that you had no other choice to wrap your arm around her, shielding her from people who desperately wanted her attention. You missed the snickers from the girls, rolling their eyes because they knew what she was up to, while you were just doing your job.

Then she texted you on free days, asking if you wanted to do something. Anything from getting food at hole-in-the-wall restaurants she learned about from Chaeyoung to intimate concerts of artists in the industry. You tried to decline, advising her to go with one of the female managers so it wouldn’t look suspicious to the public eye, but she was adamant about going with you. Some of the girls would join from time to time, but the majority of the time, it was just you two.

Again, you thought nothing of it. You were the closest to her, so no one batted an eye when she put in the group chat when something was planned.

That was just how your relationship was with her for five years since the group debuted.

Until one night.

You were working late, going over the travel plans for the girls’ encore tour, tucked away in your office. A short four-city stint in the United States that would be a bit of a hustle for them, but you knew they could do it.

There were a soft two knocks, scaring you because you thought everyone had already left. You remembered the way you said come in, raspy and tired, when the door opened slightly, the half of Nayeon’s face peeking through the crevice.

You smiled immediately, sitting straight, nodding as she stepped inside. You took note of her outfit. Something comfortable since they had dance rehearsals for the better part of the day, dark sweats and a heather grey cropped hoodie that showed a sliver of her skin, peeking from underneath.

You watched Nayeon grow into a beautiful woman. Sexy too, but you slapped yourself every single time you thought of her like that. There had to be some professional line drawn somewhere. Although it seemed that metaphorical line had been blurred, crossed, over the past few months.

She was more affectionate, playing with your fingers in the car, gently touching your arm wherever you walked. She pressed into your side more, even when there were no people around. She hugged you a bit longer than the others, not like you were counting the seconds.

You stood to meet her on the couch, asking if she was alright since she was vocal earlier in the day she wanted to go home to sleep. She explained that she had finished practicing with the dance instructor. You admired how hard she worked, which for what it was worth, you thought she did well during rehearsals.

“And I saw your office light on as I was leaving, thought I’d say goodbye,” Nayeon rested her head on your outstretched arm. It wasn’t out of the norm, something she did quite frequently in front of everyone.

“You should rest,” You urged, softly squeezing her shoulder as she snuggled into you. “You did great today.”

Nayeon looked up at you, gaze briefly shifting to your lips before meeting your eyes, “Really?”

You hadn’t realized it before, but as she stared at you, you could see how much she needed the affirmation, the reassurance, the praise, from you.

You cleared your throat, looking away because it suddenly felt hot in your office. With Nayeon this close, her perfume faint, it had you dizzy. You mumbled a shy yeah.

You knew the moment her hand touched your thigh, it was over. Everything you worked for, investing time and resources to make sure the girls you managed were successful, would be tossed down the drain because the undeniable tension that had been building over the past however long at this point broke.

The thing was, you didn’t know about it until that moment.

You weren’t sure who kissed who first, and it didn’t matter. All you knew was she was on top, your arms pulling her closer as your lips met in a heated kiss, swallowing each other’s moans.

Something clicked inside of you, like this was always supposed to happen. Every message, every call, every playful push, every stolen glance, every single thing led to this.

“Nayeon,” You tore yourself apart, hyper aware of the small whine leaving her mouth as you tried to get some grip on the situation. “What’re we doing? We can’t do this.”

Her eyes narrowed, glaring, and you knew that whatever resolve you had would be taken from you by her whether you liked it or not. She was never one to be challenged, always exceeding whatever expectation was placed on her.

“And why not?” Her voice was steady, but her body was not. She dropped to her knees in between your legs. All the thoughts you pushed deep down inside you came rushing to the surface, dismantling the walls you put up for her to break it so easily. “You don’t think I’m pretty?” Her hands were on the waistband of your slacks, trailing along, stopping when she reached the button.

You didn’t have the words, no sentence to form as she slowly, oh so slowly, pulled the zipper down. You nearly choked once she placed her hand over your cock, palming with the softest pressure.

“Your body seems to think so,” She teased, slipping her hand underneath the fabric, wrapping around your cock.

That very thin thread of control you snapped, leaning forward to pull back onto your lap. “That’s a lot to assume,” You quipped, hands gripping her waist firmly.

“Really?” She rolled her hips over you, catching the smirk on her face as your eyes closed. “I think that you’ve always wanted me as much as I wanted you, which I—”

Impulsively, you brought your lips to hers, a searing kiss that she met with the same enthusiasm. You murmured a shut up before nipping her bottom lip, sucking lightly that her body shuddered against you.

You didn’t remember much else from that night.

That was a lie because that was the night she confessed it all. It didn’t help that she somehow slipped all her clothes off and she sunk your cock inside one smooth motion, testing your control once again because you could’ve exploded the moment you felt her warmth wrapped around you.

You remembered it vividly, clearly, as you watched her move on top of you. It was slow, intentional with every drop of her body, like she was showing you what you had been missing. It was hot, tight, and you couldn’t stop the whimper out of your mouth when she started whispering things—nasty, filthy things that you would have never guessed were in her vocabulary.

Nayeon bit your ear lobe, murmuring how good you felt, how she got so wet whenever she saw you. The soft moan she let out. The dazed, lust-filled expression with each roll of her hips. You couldn’t stop the noises you made, the groans, the grunts, the fuck every time her pussy tightened.

There was a brief sense of clarity when your stomach tightened, signaling you were close. You couldn’t exactly cum inside her because one, you stupidly (blindly) forgot to put a condom on, and two, you didn’t keep track of her health records (that wasn’t one of your responsibilities among everything else), so getting an idol pregnant wasn’t exactly on your list.

She knew you were close the second your hips thrusted up, stealing a breathy moan. You were content lifting her off you to cum anywhere else that wasn’t inside her.

However, Nayeon was not.

She made it perfectly clear when she wrapped her arms around your neck, pulling you against her as she quickened her pace. You tried, maybe not that much, to get her off you before you met your impending end, but it was futile when she kissed your cheek, affectionately, lovingly, hot breath against your skin that she wanted you to claim her in a way no one else ever had.

Air left your lungs as you came, releasing a lot inside of her, causing her own orgasm that felt like yours went on forever. She muffled her scream, biting into your neck as her body trembled.

You wanted to believe it was a one-time thing, a mishap, a lapse in judgment because it was still your fucking job on the line.

It was not a one-time thing. You couldn’t even count it as a two-time thing, or three, or four. It just kept happening. You couldn’t exactly avoid her, you literally worked for her.

No one would think you favored her because they all knew you did, but they understood why. No one could stop Nayeon from being near you because she would throw a fit. Any crisis she had, you were the main point of contact because she only listened to you.

Even if you had some kind of control over her, she had the most control over you.

Then after some time of figuring out how you and Nayeon could keep whatever this under wraps—nothing was ‘figured out’ as you wouldn’t really be talking if you were alone together—a mutual colleague introduced you to Bae Suji.

You went on one date with Suji, or Suzy, as she sometimes preferred. How any of the girls found out was beyond you, but if you had to wager, it would’ve been Jeongyeon or Sana (Nayeon later did say it was the latter because her friend saw you).

It didn’t matter who found out because managers are allowed to have lives outside of their work, but this particular part of your life wouldn’t be allowed by the woman you spent a good chunk of time with, on- and off-the-clock.

To say Nayeon was upset would be an understatement. Sure, she was upset, but she was livid. You didn’t see her that night, but she was at your door the next morning. She did what she always did, easily seducing you before demanding an explanation while you were deep inside her.

It wasn’t healthy by any means, but it’s not like either of you cared. It was toxic at best, but it was debauchery at its absolute worst, using sex as a loaded gun to get whatever you wanted from each other.

“You know we can’t keep doing this,” You grunted as you thrusted inside her, pausing as her pussy tightened.

“Yet here you fucking are, still balls deep inside of me,” Nayeon said lowly, tugging you so you towered over her. “You aren’t fucking her so why did you even go out with her?”

You didn’t bother responding, instead you wrapped a firm hand around her neck, squeezing enough to shut her up because at that point, she was pissing you off.

You would admit that that morning was the first time you let her get the best of you. You typically weren’t aggressive with her. You might’ve been rough less than a handful of times, but never like that.

What you couldn’t predict was how she’d react. She could have done anything. Hit you. Slap you. Push you off.

She didn’t.

It spurred her on more than anything. By the way her pussy tightened. By the way it felt wetter. By the way she tried to make a sound, but couldn’t because of the hold around her.

Your hand relaxed, listening to her violently gasp as the air entered her body. You broke for a moment, searching for any sign of discomfort, uneasiness, because at the end of the day—you wouldn’t admit this to her—you loved her. You were in love with her, stupidly falling for her whether you wanted to or not. You believed she felt the same, but those kinds of things weren’t a topic of discussion.

“Baby,” You whispered, still buried inside of her, but you weren’t moving. “I’m sor—”

Nayeon shook her head, sitting up as you hissed once the cool air hit your cock. She gave you a quick peck before turning onto her stomach, arching her back. Pushing herself up on her hands, she shook her hips side to side, head slightly turned, “Fuck me, daddy.”

A new kink was unlocked that night among a myriad of emotions you weren’t prepared for. One thing you were prepared for was to fuck her like you owned her.

Maybe you did, but she owned you too.

-- --

You open your front door, stepping aside for Nayeon to walk through. Tossing the keys on the side table, the door shuts as you take off your shoes. She’s right next to you, arms crossed behind her back, leaning against the wall. She’s waiting for the reaction you give whenever she pisses you off. She does what she does to rile you up, if that isn’t obvious.

You sigh, shaking your head, standing in front of Nayeon. Her eyes look up, but your gentle hand cups her chin, tilting her head back. When you meet her gaze, there’s something off with her.

You can read her like a book, very familiar with her moods. Though, this time, you see—and feel—the walls up, something unfamiliar to you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask softly, searching her face for anything to give her away. Her expression remains neutral, shrugging indifferently. “Something’s wrong.”

Nayeon pulls away, averting her gaze, “Nothing’s wrong.” Pause. “So are we going to fuck or what? Isn’t that why we’re here?”

“Not with that attitude,” You say sternly, reaching for her arms behind her back. You bring them around, struggling a bit. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“There is no fucking problem. If you want to talk about thoughts and feelings, I’m going to pass,” She breaks away, and you let her. “I’ll call Jihyo or Jeongyeon to pick me up.” She turns to walk away, but you reach out quickly, hand wrapping onto her forearm to pull her back.

Nayeon lets out a small oomph against your chest, glaring at you, unbothered by her attitude (you’ve dealt with worse), “Tell me what the fuck is wrong right now.”

“Or what?” Nayeon huffs, hands on your chest in a feeble attempt to get away from you.

The movement brings your bodies closer, and accidentally, maybe purposely, she grounds her pelvis against you. It’s with the lightest pressure, but it’s enough for your cock to stir, awakening from her heated stare. You notice the way her breath hitches, body shivering as you pull her closer.

“Brat,” You murmur, dropping your head to capture her lips with your teeth. She moans softly when you start sucking. Her hands move to interlace behind your neck. You didn’t want to use sex to get it out of her, but she’s being defiant. “Do you get off on making me mad?”

“Not intentionally, of course.” You feel her smile form, the upward curve of her lips as you slide your tongue in. She sighs dreamily into the kiss, dropping her weight to lean against the wall. You fall into her, practically pinning her. “Is someone going to put me in my place?”

It’s a rhetorical question because there has only been one person to put her in her place.

You.

This evening could have played out in two ways. The first, being the doting lover you’re familiar with, praising her softly like a secret only between you and her, taking your time to draw out every moan and sigh against your lips. The second, the one you’re leaning towards, being the indifferent, apathetic lover, uncaring of if she cums, fucking her until she begs for you, pussy deliciously tight to force you to breed her, claim her, because she’s yours.

“Why not that tool you were all over at the party?” The question catches her off guard, body tensing at the thought that you caught her. She wanted you to catch her though, she has always wanted to be wanted by you. “You knew I was watching across the room,” Pulling away as you tower over her.

“It wasn’t like that,” Nayeon rushes out, the excuse you’ve heard multiple times before. The false panic in her eyes means she knew exactly what she was doing to get a reaction out of you. “We were just talking.”

“I don’t believe that,” You click your tongue, the image of her with someone else like that sparks a possessive desire. “That wasn’t very good of you, baby.” Void of any affection associated with the pet name. Under the dim light of your hallway, you see her eyes dilate and her breathing picks up. She wants you and fuck do you want her too. “Room. Now.”

Nayeon nods obediently. You reward her with a soft, chaste kiss. She tries her best to keep your lips together, but you tap her hip twice and she pulls away. “Daddy.” She whines, pouting in hopes it’ll get her more than you’re giving. You thought she’d last longer before using her nickname for you.

“Don’t be a brat,” Your eyes narrow, challenging her because if she wants to act out even more, you’d just have to punish her. “Go to the room now.” Nayeon’s eyes widen at your tone, nodding once before walking down the hallway.

You tilt your head side-to-side, stretching the muscles before making a quick stop in the kitchen. You know you’ll both be exhausted whenever you finish, so you might as well at least have water nearby. You’ll find the energy to make her food in the morning, or there’s always takeaway. With two water bottles in hand, you kick your room door open to Nayeon perched on the edge of your bed, topless, only leaving her red lace bottoms, dress tossed haphazardly on the chair.

“For later, okay?” Momentarily breaking out of character because you still care for her, and her well-being will always be your top priority. She sends you a grateful smile before you place the bottles on the dresser. When you meet her on the bed, she moves to swing her leg over yours, but you shake your head. “Not yet, baby. You weren’t very good back there.”

“But, but,” Nayeon’s voice trembles, biting her lip. “I didn’t mean it!”

“Then why did you act out? Do I not give you what you want?” You gently push Nayeon off to her original position.

“You do!” She says desperately, nodding her head.

“Then why? Why him?” You taunt, deciding how far you want to go with her tonight. Something’s still wrong, and you need to know what. You want the reason, the confession, because she doesn’t keep secrets from you. You see the wheels turning, unsure if whatever she has to say would matter. It does matter to you. “So what is it?”

“Because I wanted your attention,” Nayeon confesses before she jumps on you, landing perfectly on your already hard cock. She moans at the contact, grinding slightly before your hands find themselves on her hips, guiding her movement. “I wanted you to remind me who I belong to.”

“And who’s that?” You say lazily, tongue trailing against her lower lip before dipping inside, swirling that she grounds harder.

“You,” Voice dropping low, seductively adding, “Daddy.”

You have to still make her pay her retribution. She’s almost there, telling you the real reason, and you’ll get it out of her. You easily lift her body off yours, smirking at the whine and huff when you pull away as you lay her on your stomach against your lap. “I still have to punish you, baby.” You rest your hand on her back, ghosting over her skin until you reach her low back.

“But daddy,” Nayeon huffs, raising her hips in a feeble attempt to get your hand where she wants. “It didn’t mean anything,” She repeats, squirming on your lap.

Your hand goes lower, hovering over her buttcheek, “It meant something to me,” You say pensively. Curious, prodding, “Is that why you wanted me to fill in instead of Seoyeon-unnie? You didn’t want me to go on my date.”

You don’t hear a response. You swiftly bring your hand down to her bottom, a resounding smack echoes through the room. “Well?”

Silence again, which would result in another slap to the other cheek. She muffled a moan into the bedsheets, refusing to budge.

Bingo.

Her pride is her biggest downfall, ego constantly needing to be stroked. She loves the attention and adoration from fans, thriving off the praise, knowing that it’s all for her. She would rather suffer through the pain than have to admit she was jealous.

The center of attention, the one in the limelight, spotlight shining on her and only her. She craves that from you, to be the center of your world, but ever since Suji came into the picture, she’s scared that there might be someone else, crashing like a meteor on unstable ground she’s never had.

You continue with the slaps, easing the sting with light rubs. You know she’s soaked, the small dark circle forming on her underwear. You’re not faring any better, cock tenting against the fabric.

After the seventh hit, Nayeon moans, body shaking wantonly in frustration. “Fuck fuck, please, please.”

“Tell me the truth.” Coercion isn’t the best method, manipulative by any definition, but you had no other choice.

“Fine, fine.” You relent, hand halting mid-air. “I didn’t want you to go. You’re supposed to be mine,” She cries, breath uneven as she tries to compose herself.

Your hand drops. Her body flinches when she feels it against her skin, but continues to wait, anticipating your next move. Your chest squeezes at the confession because she’s never been this vulnerable, open, willing to express her feelings for you.

You give in, to her, to this, the urge to suddenly show her who owns you becomes too great. You pull her up, laying her on the bed as you fall in between her legs.

“Baby,” You murmur, leaning forward to brush your lips against her ear, “You’re being so good. I am yours,” Her body shivers, hips rolling up into nothing as she seeks some kind of friction. “I’m yours,” You repeat like a mantra, a reminder of what you’ve always said. “You deserve a reward, okay?”

Nayeon shakes her head, eyes shooting open, wild with want and desire. “I can’t wait, daddy.” She reaches for your shirt, ripping the buttons, before stopping at your belt. “Inside me, please. I need to feel you.”

You do nothing to stop her, hands swiftly moving to unbuckle your belt and slipping your cock out of your briefs. You groan when she wraps around your length, stroking lightly. She aims the tip at her opening, against the lace, uncontrollably moaning and panting.

“Go ahead,” You goad, eyes fixated on your cock rubbing over her. The wetness seeps on you, mouth watering at the sight. You watch as she moves her underwear to the side, lining up your cock perfectly, the warmth and wetness surrounding you has you seeing stars.

“I’m so wet, daddy,” Nayeon moans loudly, scooting closer to take more of you in. “All for you—fuck.”

You couldn’t help yourself. She felt too good, too wet, and the tightness suffocates you the second you snap your hips forward, burying your cock to the hilt inside her. The sudden stretch has her head snapping back, screaming into the air.

“You’re such a slut, always ready for my cock,” You choke out, hands settling on her hips before drawing backwards. Her body squirms, chasing after the sensation of being filled. “So needy tonight, baby.”

“Please, please,” Nayeon begs, doing everything she can to get all of you back inside her. She wants you, wants you so no one else can have you, desperate for the feeling you give her. She thrusts her hips down, sucking you in unexpectedly, that you nearly collapse on top of her. Her arms wrap around you, nails digging into your skin when your length rubs along her walls. “Fuck me. You own me.”

“Mine?” You’re able to catch a breath, holding on to the control you’re trying to keep.

“Yours.”

It snaps, breaking the moment she says the word, possessing you to pull back before sliding back in. You lose yourself inside her, each moan and breathy sigh, as you set a steady pace. It’s a beautiful sensation for Nayeon’s pussy hugging your cock perfectly, warm, wet, tight—just for you.

Her nails trail down, scratching your back enough that you’ll see the damage later. The pain turns you on, snapping your hips, driving your cock through. You nearly falter when your eyes meet hers. It’s akin to love, a word that has been dangerously sitting on the tip of your tongue these past few months.

“I—fuck,” You stutter out. You can’t tell her how you feel. You can’t. You shouldn’t. You won’t.

“I love you.”

You swear you misheard her. The three words forming the sentence that has you over the moon. She says it again, softly, affectionately, because she means it.

“You love me?” You cease your movements, cock bottoming out inside of her. The snugness of her pussy warms your cock as you wait. She doesn’t hesitate, saying it again and again before pulling your lips to hers.

“I love you,” Nayeon mumbles, tongue running along your bottom lip.

“Fuck,” You pull away, hips drawing back before flipping her body over. She raises her hips, the beautiful arch in her back. You tear the lacy garment off, making a silent promise you’ll buy her another later. You’ll buy her whatever she wants. “I love you,” You whisper before sinking in, missing the way her eyes roll back.

You couldn’t control what happened next as the words triggered her orgasm. Her pussy pulls you in, suffocating you so you wouldn’t leave—not like you had anywhere to go. You’d lose yourself inside her ten times out of ten.

“Fuck daddy, I’m cumming,” Nayeon screams, panting as her body shudders, pussy tightening and relaxing rhythmically as you groan. You feel the wetness coat your upper thighs, guttural moaning against her hair. “Come inside me, please. I’m yours, yours, oh shit—”

Your stomach tightens, snapping at the way her ass cheeks ripple against your pelvis, moving uncontrollably as she coaxes your orgasm. Your hands grip her muscles, hips erratically thrusting into her as your release floods her, painting every crevice inside her.

Nayeon leans her head back, enough for you to kiss her forehead. Her hands find yours, interlacing them sweetly as you both try to catch your breath.

You’re still hard, and you’re feeling particularly giving. She can handle whatever you throw at you, so you gently remove one of your hands from hers, trailing slowly to the apex of her thighs. Her breathing hitches, “What’re you doing?”

“Another,” You command as you rub through her folds, finding her clit.

“Wait—wait shit,” The contact catches her by surprise, her body folding forward as you continue your onslaught.

“Good girl,” You murmur, watching as her hips move in slow figure eights with your cock still inside. Her pussy constricts, finding every angle to hit her favorite spot. And when she does, she mewls and pants. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

Nayeon turns her head, locking eyes with you as she moves faster along your length. Your fingers aren’t idle, applying heavy pressure that has her going crazy, unsure with what to do with the pleasure flowing through her body. You mouth cum and flicking like a switch, she gushes all over you, forcing you to leave her warmth.

“Fuck daddy,” Nayeon screams, voice hoarse as you watch her body convulse, back arching and flexing as she squirts more fluid than you’d ever seen. “I need you, please. Something, anything—oh shit!” Your fingers enter her swiftly, massaging her inner muscles as it just gets wetter, drenching your skin and bedsheets.

“Tell me who owns this pussy,” You say lowly, eyes fixated on the way her butt muscles ripple with every movement of your fingers.

“You,” She repeats your name over and over, pussy sucking you as she tightens deliciously around them. “God, fuck, you, sir, only you.”

You replace your fingers with your cock, aiming at her opening before sinking in once again. Her fingers ball into fists, wrinkling the bed sheets as you nearly go feral on her body. She could take it. She wants you like this, crazy, addicted, in love that no one else could fuck her. She needs to feel how much you want her. She only needs you.

“So easy,” You swing a hand back, slapping each cheek with precision. “All you need is my cock, right?”

“Yes, yes, only yours daddy,” Nayeon nods, easily agreeing to whatever you say. You could call her every name in the book, and she’d comply. She’s your little fucktoy that gets your cock stuffed inside her whenever you want.

You lose it once Nayeon lets out a high-pitched squeal. The orgasm crashes through your body, hips stuttering forcefully into hers as you fill her again, unabashedly rolling your hips to hear her breath staccato.

Every nerve on your body buzzes, stimulated by Nayeon’s walls pulsing to milk you for all that you have. It hits overstimulation, sucking the breath from you as you regretfully pull out. She whines at the loss of contact, but you lean forward, sweetly kissing her buttcheek, nipping at the skin that she squirms.

“Ticklish?” You tease, voice light and relaxed. The exhaustion slowly sets in your bones.

“You know I am,” Nayeon huffs, hips dropping, limbs spread limply.

You’re still a sick human, and you want to see the result of your activities. You nudge Nayeon’s leg, easily responsive as they spread a little. You bite your tongue at the sight of your essence dribbling out of her swollen lips. It’s hot, filthy to see you all over her. You wish you had a phone nearby to snapshot this into memory, but your mind drifts off to recreating it at a later date.

You yawn, collapsing next to her that she scoots to snuggle into your side. You fight to keep your eyes open because you still have to clean up. Nayeon mumbles something into your skin. You don’t quite catch what she says, softly asking her to repeat it, and you freeze.

“I love you.”

It’s a finicky thing, this thing between you and Nayeon. Somewhere along the way, you fell for her. Maybe you knew the moment you met her, or maybe you knew that you would at some point in time. Or maybe you knew the night she walked into your office because by then, it had built up between you that that was the final piece of the puzzle to confirm what you’ve known.

The hormones flow between you, and you can’t help but think that’s the only reason why. You’re an idiot too, “Are you just saying that?” Nayeon’s hand presses into your chest. You open your eyes to her peering over you, hair an unruly mess, “What?”

Nose scrunching, Nayeon rolls her eyes, “You seriously believe I’d throw that around so easily?”

You don’t, but this was Nayeon. You may have been sleeping with her for a while, but you’ve heard the girls talk about their flings. You could almost guarantee that she’s only been sleeping with you, but they know how to hide things.

“Stupid,” Nayeon shakes her head when you ask again. “Did you just say it?”

You did. You do. It’s not just the hormones causing you to act like such a love struck idiot. You weigh the situation, knowing that whatever answer you give will change your relationship. It won’t be an illicit affair between an idol and her manager. It’ll be hard because you’d still have to keep it a secret, unless you changed companies, something you’d be willing to do.

“No,” You send an easy smile, “I love you. I’m in love with you.”

Nayeon’s face lights up, beaming with all her teeth showing, eyes crinkling in the corners. She kisses you, softly, tenderly, a contrast to how you were no less than five minutes ago.

“I love you,” Nayeon says quietly, an unspoken vow passed between you. She understands what this means, being together for real, that there will be hardships, but she’ll do them with you.

You sigh contentedly against her lips, whispering those same three words, full of intent and promise.

“No more dates with Suji-unnie,” Nayeon sing-songs, confident after pecking you on the lips, smug at accomplishing her mission of making you hers.

-- -- --

(pardon any mistakes or typos, lol)

#twice smut #twice nayeon #twice im nayeon #nayeon smut #im nayeon smut #im nayeon

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mamayan · 9 months

Note

can we get a babytrapping yandere 🥹

Absolutely you can Nonnie~

tw: Baby Trapping • Yandere • Male Yandere • Afab Darling • Afab reader • Pet names • Manipulation • PIV • Oral (F) • Overstimulation/Multiple Orgasms • Sub! Reader (implied) • Dom! Yandere (implied) • Dubcon • Breeding

This wasn’t originally his intention.

He only wanted a happy life with you, filled with joy and love.

It’s not his fault those dense friends of yours want to keep you from him. It’s not his fault your family is corrupt and trying to tear you both apart. It’s the world’s fault for making you so naive to the evils which lurk in the shadows. You don’t know any better, looking adorably flustered as he buries his face between your thighs.

He could die here, as you tangle your fingers in his hair and shake, he really believes he’s found heaven.

“Oh god—I’m cumming—!” As you throw your head back and your warm cunt gushes, he truly knows he’d do absolutely anything to keep this perfect bubble he’s carefully crafted from popping.

You look stunning, sweaty and ruined from multiple orgasms, looking at him with such pretty trusting eyes. Panting in the bed he bought for you, the lacy lingerie he’d given you as a present hanging off your ankle and pushed up on your chest to reveal all your skin for his gaze, he knows he could never love anyone as much as he loves you.

His eyes are crazed, smile distorted as he gazes at you with obsession and wild adoration. You miss it all, dizzy from dehydration and the intensity of your own orgasms. He’s never usually so forward and rough, intense and dazzling as he whispers his love in your ear.

You were supposed to be breaking up with him. Tell him you need space, something he doesn’t seem capable of giving. Instead you’re in his bed again, falling for his charm and skill in handling your body.

You’d do it tomorrow, as he easily flips you and drags your ass up as your cheek rests on the soft comforter.

“Always so precious when you cum for me…” he’s kissing down your thighs, licking up your release as driving you wild as he blows cool air on your pussy. “Don’t worry baby, I’ll fill this pretty pussy too.” He chuckles, acting reassuring as if you doubted he wouldn’t. “I’ll fill you up nice and good.” And you don’t see it.

You don’t see his face, darkening with something sadistic as he slicks his tip up with your juices and presses into you. His thick cock stretched your gummy tight walls, making your back arch further for him as he sinks so deep it nearly strings.

He relishes in your little squeal as he slams the rest of the way in, rolling him hips and driving the soft mushroom top right up against your cervix. His moan mixes with your whine, head falling back as he pulls out slowly before slamming back, a new pace being set of fucking you as deeply and hard as he can. Your lips open to complain, whine what you really want, faster and harder than this sensual pace, but his hand reaches around and his finger touches your clit. You shut up as he gathers your slick and smears it over your hardened nub, beginning to rub small circles around it to accompany his thrusts.

He only huffs a laugh at your behavior, how you relax and roll your hips back to meet him now as he works you towards another orgasm.

His chest meets your back, pressing you deeper into the mattress as his scent surrounds you, lips pressed to your ear as you clamp down tighter. Each little puff of warm air on the sensitive cartilage making him hold you tighter as you moan and wiggle for more friction.

“You like how I fuck you? How well we fit together? It’s like your pussy was made for me.” He groans, only riling you up further with the dirty talk as you feel another orgasm pulling at the knot inside you. His fingers keep the same pace as his hips, his tip rocking up inside you, so deep and pressing it’s like he’s trying to sear himself inside you. “You going to cum sweetheart? Milk my cock and fill your little womb?” The heat and pressure are becoming dizzying, your mind going a bit blank as you do cum, soaking his cock and balls as he speeds his pace up only now, drawing out your orgasm and causing it to intensify. His tip kissing your cervix over and over, fucking you nice and deep before he groans curses. “You’re gonna be such a good mama, fill you up nice and full, breed this fucking cunt make it all mine,” you’re cumming again, too overwhelming to focus on his concerning language as his balls draw up tight. He’s spilling into you as you spasm and tense around him, cock swelling up as his balls release the pent up load he’s withheld for nearly a month into your fertile womb.

You’d been such a good girl, taking the sugar pills diligently. You didn’t even notice you’d been off your birth control for over three months now, just after you moved out of his apartment under the excuse of needing “more personal space”.

He’s fucking you nice and full all night, filling you up over and over, growing increasingly unhinged as he imagines you swelling with the child you created together. Your family wouldn’t push him away once you figured it out. Your friends would take a seat in the back of your mind, the baby taking precedence. And there he’d be, happy and ready to provide and care for you.

“You ready for another load baby♡?” You nod in a daze as you cum for him again, exhausted and overstimulated as he groans and shoots another hot load inside you. Your lower body soaked in fluids from how much you’d both cum.

You’d be pregnant for sure by the time the sun rose.

Dividers/@cafekitsune

#Yan answers #tw: breeding #tw: Dubcon #yandere #yancore #baby trapping #yandere smut #baby trapping smut #male yandere x reader #male yandere x fem reader #general yandere #fem darling #dom! Yandere #sub! darling

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tacticaldiary · 1 year

Note

can you do a ghost x head doctor!reader? kind of that scenario where ghost is like, “i don’t want a regular plain nurse; i want reader 🙄” and reader is like, the head doctor of the medical wing or whatever, and doesn’t usually deal with regular military injuries, but puts up with ghost’s shit anyways? 😋

Superficial Wounds, Deep Devotion

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Fluff; Hurt/Comfort

"Need me to kiss it better?" She quips with a roll of her eyes.

"I'll take anything you prescribe." Comes the smooth answer. It draws out a snort of laughter from her as she turns around with the gauze.

"All you need is to stop scaring away the field medics." She steps in between his legs, wiping down the cut on his shoulder with disinfectant.

Masterlist

"Ghost?" Her head snaps up from the clipboard. "What's wrong with him?" She frowns, pushing down the bubbling panic in her chest.

"He's asking for you to treat him in room Q42."

"Is he bleeding?" The urgency itches just below her skin but her cool professionalism doesn't crack. She doesn't deal with superficial injuries, only the most complex cases. She's seen it all. Mangled faces, guts hanging out, disfigured bodies.

So the fact that they were asking for her-...

Wait.

"Is command asking me to see him?" She says slowly.

The soldier shakes his head. "No ma'am. It was a request from the Lieutenant himself."

She releases a slow exhale, relief tingling. "I'll see to it." She dismisses him with a wave, starting down the hall.

Simon had this...habit of seeking her out. It was a perk of his rank, she supposes, but she'd been the only one to treat him ever since they'd encountered each other way back when she was an on-site combat nurse.

It's impossible to forget seeing him for the first time. That skull mask of his was splattered blood red, a bullet wound in his shoulder as he sat on one of the dusty cots in the emergency tents they'd set up in the middle of the desert.

They'd just clicked.

She ended up treating him again after that, and that's when he started personally requesting her.

It hadn't taken long for the spark between them to explode into something intense and loving. He was the anchor to her stressful life, unshakable and a steady presence. She was his person, one of the only people he trusted with his injuries and his heart, the warmth that let him focus on being better.

Swinging open the door without knocking, the man in question sits there in all his glory in front of her.

Admittedly, the first she stares at is his chest. He's shirtless, a cut that she can tell is superficial and non-fatal from all the way by the door.

"You can come inside." His voice is amused and knowing, the bastard.

"Inviting me into my own house?" She swallows, but listens. The door is kicked shut behind her. The moment it's closed he tugs off his mask, the weary lines of his face much more prominent under the harsh fluorescent lighting of the room. "How was your op?" Stopping by the cot he's sitting on to press a quick kiss to his sweaty head, she breezes past him to the medical trolley nearby.

"Fine. Did what we had to." They both know he won't volunteer any more information. Just as she doesn't confide in him with every horrific injury she deals with, he doesn't expose her to the horrific things he has to do. A mutual withholding of information for the peace of mind of both parties.

"Thought you weren't due to come home until tomorrow. I was gonna meet you on the tarmac and everything."

"Surprise." He deadpans, making her snicker.

"You know, for the big bad Ghost you are, you sure need to cause such a fuss about a little cut." Gathering what she needs, she casts him a glance over her shoulder.

"Thought it was your job to make sure I was in the best state possible for deployment?"

She loves this back-and-forth they have. He does too, if the relaxed way he leans back on his arms is anything to go by. It had taken years and years to get to the place they are right now. Years of work, of communication and trust.

"It's my job to take care of the worst, highest profile cases."

"I'd say this is pretty urgent." This playful side of him came out when they were alone.

"Need me to kiss it better?" She quips with a roll of her eyes.

"I'll take anything you prescribe." Comes the smooth answer. It draws out a snort of laughter from her as she turns around with her spoils.

"Can I prescribe you to stop scaring away the field medics?" She steps in between his legs, wiping down the cut on his shoulder with disinfectant. He doesn't wince or cringe or even flinch at the burn, eyes fixed on her face as she works.

"I'm a Lieutenant, I can do what I want."

She pauses, raising an eyebrow. "Are you really pulling rank on me right now?"

He hums, sliding up to hold her hips, tugging her closer. "Don't seem to mind it when we're alone, love." A smirk tugs at his mouth when a flush creeps up the back of her neck. God, he loves that look on her.

"What's gotten into you?" Shaking her head but unable to push down a smile, she works on securing the gauze, taping it down. "Getting clingy, are we now?"

He...well he can't deny it. He doesn't want to tell her the reason for it either, even if she's subtly fishing for answers.

He'd been an inch away from getting shredded by flying shrapnel from a car bomb today.

If Gaz, quick-witted, sharp, Gaz hadn't yelled and yanked him to cover behind a brick wall he would've been embedded with scraps of metal and rusty nails.

Dead, as his namesake.

Ghost wasn't afraid of death. Ghost got up every day ready to not see the sunrise again. Ghost was a cold blooded machine ready to do whatever his orders were.

But Simon wanted to live.

Simon wanted to come home to her. Simon wanted the last thing he saw to be her smile. Simon selfishly wanted her more than any victory his rifle could earn him.

Ghost had been unfazed, Simon had realised the inevitability of the avoided consequence.

Lips press against his bare shoulder. Right, left, and then gently on the gauze. It brings him back to the present, his grip on her tightens for a moment. Her gaze is soft, knowing. Because of course it is. She's the only one who's been able to get into his head like this, been able to crack the code to thoughts he himself doesn't have the key for.

"Any of other glaringly dangerous injuries I need to take a look at?" His eyes follow the smooth line of her neck as she tilts her head towards him. He exhales, shifts, and pulls her closer without warning, banding a strong arm around her.

"Dunno. Think you might have to conduct a comprehensive examination."

She laughs against his lips and goes down with him when he shifts farther up the cot.

Reblog, Like and Comment!

(1/09/2023)

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javier-pena · 4 months

Text

quicksand

Pairing: Pedro's unnamed character in Materialists x f!reader

Word Count: 8.2k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You meet a stranger at a party.

Notes: Last week I saw these behind the scenes shots of Pedro in Materialists and somehow I had to write 8,000 words about that? I'm also not quite sure what happened, it was supposed to be like 3k max. There was also this ask Han @swiftispunk received that I couldn't get out of my head. The title is inspired by Ms Swift's song Treacherous (And I'll do anything you say / If you say it with your hands / And I'd be smart to walk away / But you're quicksand), the rest is inspired by going completely feral whenever new pictures dropped. Tremendous thanks to Dani @alexturner who just beta'd a long-ass fic last week and then this fic this week - you're being way too good to me with indulging all thoughts I have that I have to turn into short stories 🫣 My dear, sweet anon who kept sending me encouraging asks, this is for you!!

***

There’s laughter coming from downstairs, deep, rumbling laughter impossible to ignore. Your whole body seems to shake with it, your heart stutters in your chest angrily, and you press your hands over your ears. But the loud voices are still there, mocking you with their indifference to your pain. You bury your face in your cool satin pillow and sob into it, ruining the expensive fabric. You don’t fucking care.

All your friends warned you this would happen and you hate how they were right. “You’re nothing but a toy to him.” Shut up, Marissa, you’re just jealous. “Maybe you should look for a boyfriend who’s closer to you in age.” Maybe you should look for a boyfriend, period. “You’re only a fuckmaid to him, do you realize that?” That was the point you stopped listening to them and, at the same time, it was the point you should have started listening.

You are nothing but a toy to him. You should have looked for someone closer to you in age. You are … no, you can’t bring yourself to even think the word, because the truth hurts too much. The truth and your blindness and your stupidity and the fact that you’re throwing your life away for a man who breaks every promise he makes and who treats you like a pet. A beautiful, expensive pet that can be ignored whenever it’s convenient.

“Come with me to the Keys,” he whispered into your ear, his breath hotter than his steadily cooling release sticking to your thighs.

“What?” you asked, heart clenching painfully. When was the last time he cared enough to make you come? Months ago?

“Come with me to the Keys,” he repeated. “The change of scenery will be good for us. I’ll show you around. We can go deep sea fishing. I’ll buy you some dresses and bathing suits. Just take my card tomorrow.”

He brushed your hair away from your neck, kissed the skin there, cupped one of your breasts, squeezed it hard. “Piers,” you warned, tried to get away from him. But there was nowhere to go.

The truth is you had been looking forward to his trip. Had been looking forward to having the apartment to yourself for a while. It’s not like you would’ve done anything in particular except just breathe for once.

“Don’t be like that,” he mumbled against your neck, squeezed your breast again. “Don’t you want to sip on a nice cocktail? Wear a risqué outfit for me?”

No, you didn’t want that. But if you didn’t say yes soon, he’d get angry. “Okay,” you gave in. “But you have to promise me that you’ll spend one day with me. No business.”

What’s easily promised is easily broken.

Today is supposed to be your day. And for once in your life, you thought it would be. Piers took you out for breakfast, right by the water. You watched the sunshine dance across the waves. Then he showed you around town, took you to his favorite spots in Key West, even held your hand. And you thought, This is it. I’m finally worthy of him. Then came the call, followed by those emails, and suddenly Piers was like, “Sorry, babe, I have to meet them, they’re important business partners. Why don’t you go to the beach club, buy yourself a nice massage? Here’s my card.”

Here's my card. You’ve never hated three words more.

What you didn’t expect was to come home to a party. At least twenty men were milling around the house Piers liked to refer to as his “Key West Residence”, a late 19th century villa. Twenty loud men, rich like Piers, most of them his age, leering at you as you stepped through the front door, mistaking you for tonight’s entertainment.

“Babe!” Piers boomed, spilling half his drink while opening his arms as if he meant to hug you. The glances didn’t stop. “Go upstairs, freshen up, put on something nice, and then let me show you off.”

You managed to complete the first step before breaking down on your bed. You’ve been sobbing ever since.

Something breaks downstairs and some of the men roar. You bury your face deeper against the pillow, terrified to go back downstairs, terrified to stay up here. Whatever you do, it will be the wrong thing. You close your eyes and think about what it would be like if the men downstairs vanished. If you had the house to yourself, sharing it with a person you loved and who loved you in return. You could be having dinner on the patio now. Before that, you might go for a swim in the pool, knowing the only eyes on you were your partner’s, the only glances you received were welcome.

You sit up straight. You might hate it when Piers’ business partners look at you like you’re a piece of meat, but Piers hates it too if they don’t do it without being invited. Twenty men imagining all the vile ways in which they could fuck you is the last thing you want right now, but it’s also the last thing Piers wants.

You stumble into the bathroom and wash your face with ice cold water, willing the puffiness of your eyes to recede. You put on your most expensive makeup, the kind that only comes off with intensive scrubbing, then you pick your most revealing bikini and put it on. If those men stared at you like that in a long sundress, their heads will probably explode if they see you like this.

Chin held high, beach towel thrown over your shoulder, you make your way downstairs on high heels the same shade of black as your bikini. You feel utterly stupid, like you’re giving them exactly what they want, but the flush that spreads across Piers’ cheeks when he sees you is worth it. There are some whistles, a few crude comments, one man slaps your ass, but you make it to the pool. None of them are brave enough to follow you outside.

The water is cool against your skin, doing its best to extinguish the fire that burns within you. The flames don’t die down completely but they’re certainly soothed. You start to swim, one length, then three, and soon the party resumes and the men pick up their conversations again. This almost feels normal; this almost feels like a life you could enjoy. Except that you’re alone. And not in a way you crave.

You stop swimming and start drifting on your back, watching the sky above turn from a gentle blue into a soft pink, a bright orange, a deep purple. Soon, the sun will go down and the party will pick up speed. You should go, put on a dress, let Piers show you off, vanish before they’ve had too much alcohol.

You climb out of the pool, squeeze water out of your hair, wrap the towel around yourself. No one is paying attention to you now, so you pick up your heels to carry them back upstairs. There’s no way you’ll make it back to your room without one or two unwanted glances, without the odd rude comment, but you can live with that. You step onto the patio, eyes firmly fixed on your destination, then start walking through the gathering, careful not to look at anyone, careful not to be seen.

Someone sees you though. It’s not Piers, and it also isn’t one of the men who look at you and lick their lips. It’s someone watching you from the shadows, someone on one of the chairs in the parlor. Keep your eyes on the stairs, you tell yourself. Nothing good can come from this. While you were in the pool, Piers must have turned on the music, old jazz songs he always plays when he wants to appear sophisticated. The tinny sounds of saxophones make your ears ring, irritating you more than the heavy smell of cigar smoke that seems to be seeping into every corner of the house. You feel horrible between all those men dressed in their suits, even with the towel covering most of your skin. And you wish that one man would stop watching you because it makes you feel hunted, makes your body beg to run and hide.

At the foot of the stairs you pause, your heart in your throat. A man brushes past you, pretending like there is only so little room he has to press his palm against the small of your back. You turn around looking for Piers, ready to pretend you have a horrific migraine and won’t be joining him after all, when your eyes land on the man who is making the hair at the back of your neck stand with his unrelenting gaze.

You can’t see him properly because he’s half hidden behind the door to the parlor, a room that’s devoid of proper lighting and full of cigar smoke. But you see his dark eyes on you, feel them look right through you, see you for who you are, while he laughs at something the man next to him is saying. You crane your neck to get a better look at him but two other men walk past, obscuring your view. When they spot you and start to make their way toward you, you bolt up the stairs. At least no one will dare to follow you up here.

*******

“There she is!” Piers announces later, opening his arms wide again. He doesn’t spill his drink this time. You step into his embrace and let him kiss your cheek. “Took you long enough, doll.” You hate it when he calls you that, but you keep on smiling. Then he leans closer and whispers, “If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’ll make sure you’ll regret it. Letting another man touch you! What’s wrong with you?”

So it did bother him after all. It should make you feel proud, but it only makes you feel empty. “I’m sorry,” you whisper back and kiss him. Someone at the back of the room whistles.

“Just try to behave for the rest of the night,” he says coldly, then smiles at you and asks in his loud business voice, “Isn’t she lovely?”

Some of the men nod but none dare to look at you directly. Not when Piers has his arm slung around your shoulder anyway.

“How about a drink?” he asks you and when you nod, he takes your hand and leads you toward the bar at the back of the parlor. You follow him, shivering slightly from the evening breeze blowing in through the open French doors. The smoke in the room makes your eyes sting.

With practiced ease, Piers fills a sparkling glass with vodka and soda, adding a bit of lime juice. You try to ignore the man who is standing a little bit too close to you, whose eyes hang a little bit too low.

“Here you are.” Piers hands you the glass. “I have something to discuss with those gentlemen over there,” he nods at two men standing by the door to his study, “but I shouldn’t be too long. Try not to cause too much of a scene while I’m gone.”

You close your fingers around the glass and nod. All you want to do is run.

As soon as he’s gone, they start to close in on you. It’s what Piers wants. He wants others to desire what belongs to him – his apartment, his car, his life. You’re part of all of that. He wants these men to desire you, to think they can have you. You should have listened to your friends, to Marissa and Annie and all the others. If you had, you might hate yourself less.

You know they all want to talk to you and they won’t take no for an answer, so you start to make your way toward the open French doors to escape into the garden. If you stand right at the edge, you can hear the waves whisper and feel the ocean breeze on your face. And if you keep still long enough, they might forget about you.

You don’t even make it out the door before your eyes start to wander from the lush green bushes and trees outside and land on a man sitting in a leather armchair close to the open doors. You don’t know if it’s the same one whose gaze you felt on you earlier, but there’s something about him that makes it hard for you to look away. He’s in the middle of a conversation, one leg comfortably slung across the other, ankle resting against thigh. One of his hands is spread on his knee, his fingers stroking and tapping the expensive fabric of his back dress pants in a nervous tick. His other hand is wrapped around a glass full of amber liquid that he takes a swig from right as you walk past, pretending not to notice how the muscles in his neck work as he swallows, pretending not to notice the gold ring on his little finger that clinks against the glass as he lowers it again.

Your own drink untouched, you stand on the patio, off to the side where you hope no one will notice you but where you can look at that stranger from time to time. You don’t think you’ve seen him before, but you don’t usually pay a lot of attention to Piers’ associates. None of the men here this evening look familiar. Still, there is something about the way this man runs his fingers through his dark curls from time to time, the way he tries to smooth the wrinkles in his white shirt, the way he takes a drag from a big, dark brown cigar once in a while that makes it impossible for you to look away. Until another man demands your attention.

“Hi there,” he says, his laugh showing off perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. “I’m Hutton.”

You think about saying, “And I’m not interested,” but to Piers that would probably count as causing a scene. And Hutton looks like he’s one of the younger men here, probably in his late 30s. There are worse guys to talk to. “Hi,” you reply with a sweet smile.

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” He steps closer to you, encouraged by your smile.

“Yes,” you reply. “So how do you know Piers?”

If he’s annoyed by you bringing up your boyfriend right away, he doesn’t let it show. “We work together,” he answers, which could mean anything in Piers’s world.

“And what brings you to Key West?”

“The scenery,” Hutton answers, not even trying to hide his hungry gaze that glides over your naked shoulders and cleavage.

“I thought it was business,” you say, your smile faltering slightly. “Seeing you’re here.”

“I try not to mix business with pleasure.” Hutton leans against the small sliver of wall between the French doors and the corner of the house. “It’s neither good for business nor pleasure.”

You hum, trying to take a step back. You’re already at the edge of the patio though, and you almost stumble off it, losing your footing.

Hutton grabs your arm and pulls you toward him. “Careful there, pretty girl.”

You try to pull your arm back but he won’t let go. “Thank you,” you say at the same time as he says, “Have you ever thought about exchanging Piers for a younger model?”

It didn’t take him more than a few words exchanged to get to the point.

You yank your arm free but he grabs it again. “Stop it,” you command in your strictest voice but he only grins at you.

“Don’t be like this. I’m only fooling around.”

“Then let go of me.” He doesn’t.

You’re about to throw your drink in his face, even if it means Piers will be angry with you again, when someone steps out onto the patio.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

He’s standing right there, one hand in the pocket of his dark pants, the other holding his cigar. Shame washes over you and your palms grow sweaty. You really don’t need this right now. But Hutton immediately lets go of you and turns to face the newcomer.

“We’re good here, thanks,” he says, his jaw clenched.

The stranger takes his time to take a drag on his cigar, lets out the smoke while looking up at the now deep purple evening sky. “It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?” he asks and Hutton lets out a sigh.

“Are you just going to keep standing there?” he asks.

The stranger shrugs.

You glance into the parlor, at all the men milling about, wondering if you could make your escape without anyone noticing. But there is something in the way the stranger holds himself that makes you want to stay and find out how this ends. Piers, by now, would have rushed past Hutton, a snarl on his lips, his anger directed at you. The stranger just stands there, his shoulders relaxed, acting as if he doesn’t even particularly care that you and Hutton are out here on the patio as well. It’s a different kind of threat … a different kind of protectiveness.

Hutton turns to you. “Are you coming?”

You shake your head and with a roll of his eyes and an annoyed, “Whatever,” he vanishes into the house, leaving you alone with him.

The silence unbearable, you say, “Thank you.”

He takes another drag on his cigar, then comes closer to you. You ignore how your heart flutters at his approach. He reaches for your hand and for a wild moment you think he’s going to grab your arm too, but he only takes the drink from your hand, sniffs the contents of the glass, then dumps it over the edge of the patio. “Let’s get you a proper drink,” he says.

You’re too stunned to do much more than follow him back into the house and toward the bar. Around you, the volume has risen since you stepped out onto the patio, but you don’t care as much as you did before. It’s hard to care about anything when your stomach is in a tight knot and when you feel like the world around you has gone completely quiet.

The man steps behind the bar, gently places his cigar in an ashtray, then regards the collection of bottles before him with his hands on his hips. “You don’t look like a vodka girl to me,” he mumbles, and you feel your face grow hot. You don’t know why. “Here.” He pulls out a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of vermouth. You only now notice how big his hands are, and your mind immediately starts to replay the evening. His hand on his knee, his hand around his glass, his hand … You shake your head, but the shiny gold ring on his little finger glitters enticingly as he unscrews the bottle of vermouth to smell the alcohol within. It’s like you’re a magpie, enchanted by everything that glitters.

“Sweet enough,” he concludes, pouring a little vermouth and a lot of whiskey into a martini glass. Then he goes through all the bottles once more until he finds one of lavender bitter and adds it to the mix.

“What is that?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “I’m not done yet.” There’s a small jar of cocktail cherries he unscrews. With skilled movements, he skewers two of them onto a silver cocktail stick before handing you the glass. The mix inside is orange on top, a reddish purple deeper below. It looks like the sunset you watched earlier.

“What is it?” you ask again.

“Taste it,” he tells you, an eager glint in his eyes.

You take a careful sip and widen your eyes in surprise at the strong yet sweet taste. “Oh, this is really good!”

“It’s sweet, like you,” he says, then seems to change his mind, adopting a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “It’s a Manhattan. That’s where you belong, not in this tourist trash kind of town.”

That makes you laugh. “Hey, I like it here.”

The bar is still between you but he leans on it to get closer to you. “I bet you would also like Manhattan if I showed you around.”

“I’m from Manhattan,” you tell him. “I live there, actually.”

“I do too,” he responds. “Funny how we should run into each other here, of all places.”

You inhale shakily. You don’t know why. “If you hate it here so much, what are you doing here?”

He smiles at you, and you’re sure your heart stops. “I heard you talk to that other guy. I’m not here to have a conversation like that with you.”

You take another sip from your cocktail even though it makes your head spin. “What are you here for then?”

“That’s just another way of asking me what I’m doing here, angel eyes,” he points out. He does it so smoothly you almost don’t notice the diminutive.

You straighten your back, only now realizing you were leaning on the bar close to him. He mirrors you, then walks around the wood between you so he can stand directly next to you. “You tell me what you want to talk about then. After all, you approached me, you made me a drink, you wanted to whisk me off to Manhattan.”

“That was before I realized how worldly you are,” he says and his smile turns sly.

“Oh?” you make. You swallow. “Am I too difficult for you then?”

“I like a challenge.”

This is where you should stop. This is where you should thank him again for rescuing you, and for the drink, and where you should walk away to find your boyfriend, who surely has to be done with his meeting by now. But how can you step away when he’s still smiling at you as if he’s having the time of his life, when you felt drawn to him all evening, when having his eyes on you makes you feel truly seen? Yes, he isn’t exactly subtle in the way he flirts with you, but there is a kindness in his gaze you’ve never seen on another man before. And then he touches you, straightening the strap of your short, tight dress, and your whole body comes alive.

“You know smoking is bad for you, right?” is the only thing you can come up with, willing your voice to remain steady.

“I like things that are bad for me,” he replies.

It’s such a cheesy line, it makes you want to bury your face in your hands. But, god, does talking to him make you feel good.

“Ha!” He points at you. “That’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen all evening.

“Call me ‘sweet’ again and you might see some more,” you retort. All you want to do is to tell him you don’t mind his harmless flirting, that whatever this is between you is fun, but it comes out heavy with implications. Implications you can’t take back because you don’t want to.

He brushes your hair behind your ear and you think you might die. “You’re very brave.” It’s a statement. “I saw you walk to the pool earlier in –”

“I know,” you interrupt him. “I saw you watching me.”

He brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. “It made me want to kiss you.”

You freeze. There is nothing you can say that won’t end badly for you. “So you made me a drink instead?”

He plucks the cocktail stick out of your glass and holds it up to your mouth. You close your lips around the first cocktail cherry and pull it off slowly, your eyes fixed to his. It might just be the low lighting but you think his pupils dilate. He drops the stick back into the glass and takes a big swig of your drink, his eyes momentarily leaving yours. You do your best not to watch his throat as he swallows.

“You really are something,” he concludes, putting down the glass on the bar.

You feel lightheaded, as if you’d just made out with him for half an hour. “I’m also in a relationship.” The words are out before you can stop yourself. You didn’t mean to say them.

“I don’t give a damn.”

You giggle, actually giggle, like a schoolgirl with a crush. “You sound like the hero in one of those ancient black-and-white movies.”

“Or maybe I’m the villain.”

This time you do bury your face in your hands. “Oh, stop it.”

“No,” he simply says, and you get it. You want to kiss him too.

Instead, you glance at the small gold wrist watch on your arm. “It’s late. I should –”

He interrupts you. “Don’t –,” but you don’t let him finish.

“Thank you for the drink. And thank you for making me laugh. You made this whole thing bearable.”

You don’t know if you should shake his hand or kiss his cheek so you don’t do any of it. You pat his arm, once, trying not to notice how it feels against your palm, then walk toward the stairs, your heart breaking with each step. If you were single, you wouldn’t have hesitated to sleep with this man. If you weren’t Piers’ girlfriend, he would never have looked your way. It’s better to end it here.

The quietness of your room engulfs you, just like the soothing coolness of the pool earlier. As soon as you close the door behind you and lean against it, you can breathe. Yes, you can still hear the sounds of the party, but they’re muffled. You can finally hear yourself think again and you exhale shakily. You almost made the biggest mistake of your life. The adrenaline rush you got from it makes you snicker.

Piers isn’t entirely faithful. He attends parties with strippers, he looks at other women, you know all that. But it doesn’t mean anything because at the end of the day he comes home to you. What you just did … it goes beyond everything Piers has ever done, and you wouldn’t have been able to look at yourself in the mirror if you had spent one more minute in the presence of that handsome stranger. Even if your flirting made you happier than Piers has in months.

There’s a knock at your door and you jump. Expecting Piers, you open it without a second thought. “I’ll be right …,” you start but forget every word in the English language when you come face to face with the stranger.

“Hello,” he says, and that handsome smile is back on his face, even if he keeps a careful distance. “You vanished so quickly it made me wonder … did I do something wrong?”

“What?” you ask because it’s the only word you can remember.

“I’ll go back downstairs if you don’t want me here,” he goes on, “just say the word.”

They never come up the stairs. Never. Who does he think he is? “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just tired.” You try to close the door in his face, but he steps closer, bracing a hand against the wooden doorframe. “Excuse me,” you say insistently.

“Can I come in?”

Into your room? “Oh, I don’t think that would be a good idea,” you reject him. You laugh, but it sounds insincere. “You should go back downstairs.”

“Alright,” he agrees, “but you have to say it like you mean it.”

“Listen here,” you start in your best no-nonsense voice. He tightens his grip on the wood and you hear it creak, despite the noise downstairs. “I want you to …”

It’s no use. You don’t know who he is, you don’t even know his name, but you also know that if you don’t let yourself have this, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.

“You need to say the words, sweet –”

“I want you to kiss me.”

You both freeze. His mouth hangs open, still in the middle of forming the next word he wanted to say. You tense, well aware that you said something you can not take back.

The few seconds that pass feel like an eternity. Then he pushes himself past the doorframe into your room, into your personal space. You smell the heavy scent of cigar smoke on him, you smell leather and lavender and citrus. You see his smile that turns into something more determined the closer he gets to you. You notice the stubble on his cheek, the glint in his eyes, the small dark spot on the collar of his white shirt. You feel … you feel his body pressing against yours, his hand pressing against the small of your back, his breath on your face, and then everything is reduced to his lips on yours, your breaths mingling, his … his tongue coaxing you open, not gently but insistent, and you not hesitating to open yourself up for him.

It's as if you’re watching it all from above, you pushing him backward, him closing the door with a hard slam, the both of you pulling at each other while kissing and kissing and …

“Careful,” he chuckles when you bite down on his bottom lip. “You said kiss, not –”

“I don’t give a fuck what I said,” you interrupt him, pulling his shirt out of his pants.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says and grabs your wrist.

You groan. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts.”

He pulls you in for another kiss. “I’m not. You’re just … We’re doing this on my terms or not at all.”

Something throbs deep within your core.

He tightens his hold on you. “I’ve had all evening to think about this. To picture all the things I want to do to you.”

“It’s not going to be just kissing then?” you ask, relishing the chuckle you draw out of him.

“I knew I wouldn’t leave here tonight without feeling your pretty little cunt clench around me.”

It sounds like a line straight out of a porn movie. You should laugh, tell him to take you seriously. But all you can do is whimper at the thought of him sitting in his chair downstairs, talking to one of Piers’ associates or even Piers himself while thinking about being buried deep inside of you. Every other man would send you fleeing. Not him though.

“Who are you?” you whisper.

“Does it matter? Once I’m done with you, you’ll have forgotten your own name.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. “Those are some big words,” you point out.

He lets go of your wrist, then bunches the fabric of your dress up in his hand until he can reach below the hem, his broad, warm hand landing on your naked skin, his ring digging into your soft flesh. You gasp.

“Do you really think I’d disappoint you?”

“No,” you say too quickly, too rashly.

He grabs your dress again. “How about you take this off for me?”

“No,” you repeat, biting the inside of your cheek so you don’t laugh at the look of shock on his face. Then you turn around. “I can’t really open the zipper without some assistance.”

He runs both his hands over your naked shoulders and down to the middle of your back. You expect him to take his time, but he yanks the zipper down so quickly you think you hear fabric tear. You almost don’t have enough time to slip out of the thin shoulder straps before he falls to his knees behind you, pulling the dress with him. His hands are on your butt cheeks now, massaging, grabbing you as if he’s set on memorizing every detail. He slips his thumb under the hem of your panties, dips the tip into the wetness there.

You gasp at the same time as he whispers, “Knew it.”

You pull him away from you and turn around, well aware you’re completely naked except for your panties. “Well, it’s hardly surprising,” you start, your voice airy, but then it dies down completely at the sight of him kneeling in front of you looking up at you with so much heat in his gaze you’re getting burned. How did you get here?

You want him to tease you back, but he only pulls you close, his hands clasping your hips insistently, and kisses your belly, right above the hem of your panties. Then he kisses your thighs and your sides, and your belly button, and then he pulls down your panties and buries his face in your wetness with a relieved sigh. Your hands shoot forward and grab his curls, dig into them, desperate for purchase, as your head swims from the overstimulation. You would like to focus on the feeling of his hair between your fingers. You would like to focus on his tongue swirling around your clit. You would like to focus on the growl he makes when you run your nails over his scalp.

You think you’re laughing. You think you say, “Does that still count as kissing?”

“Yes,” he mumbles against the soft skin of your thighs. His curls are already a mess, his face is flushed, but when he glances up at you, his eyes are bright with determination.

“I think you have to show me that definition of kissing someday,” you go on, glancing up at the ceiling. You can’t look at him directly, it feels too intimate.

“That’s enough talking,” he decides and licks a broad stripe across your drenched folds.

You tighten your grip on his curls in response because your legs start to quiver. You hope he doesn’t notice, but his fingers dig into your thighs to steady you. The edges of his ring are cutting into you almost painfully – you want more of it. His hair wrapped around your fingers you pull him closer into you and he moans against you … actually moans. You push away those thoughts that make you compare him to Piers, how Piers would never moan if he was between your legs, how Piers never eats you out. This isn’t about him – it’s about you.

There’s something in the way that stranger rolls and flicks his tongue that tells you he won’t make you wait for an orgasm. You want to hold on longer because you can’t bear the thought of this being over already, but there is something in the way he devours you that pushes you toward the edge at a rapid speed. You don’t even hear the sounds of the party anymore, the laughter, the music; it’s just him and his deep sighs and moans.

You’re almost embarrassed by how fast you come. One second you’re appreciating the way his tongue flicks your clit, the next you can barely stay upright when your whole body releases months and months of built-up tension. You quiver in his grip and he holds you close, licking and licking until you can’t take it anymore. You think you mumble, “Fuckfuckfuck,” but there is no way to be sure. All you know is that you just had one of the best orgasms of your life.

You laugh as if the weight of the world has been lifted off your shoulders. What else is there to do? “So this is doing things on your terms?” you ask.

He sits back on his heels and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. You think you might explode at that sight. “No, that was for your benefit. The rest is going to be for mine.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you glance over your shoulder at your bed that’s rumpled from you crying on it earlier. If he can make you feel like that with just his tongue, what will he be –

“No, sugar, not like that,” he tells you, immediately pulling your attention back to him.

Your throat is dry when you ask, “What then?”

He stands and cups your cheek, his hand pleasantly warm. You lean into the touch immediately. “Don’t be so impatient. Enjoy the moment for a while.”

“What moment …?” you start but you don’t get far. He claims your mouth in a searing kiss that makes you wish you had been paying more attention to what he was doing when he was eating you out. You kiss him back, slinging your arms around his neck, the soft fabric of his white shirt rubbing against your naked chest. He licks across your bottom lip until you open your mouth for him, and then he claims you like no one has before. You fear that if you start thinking about how you can taste yourself on him, you’ll go insane.

“You’re so easy to kiss,” he mumbles against your lips. You’re not quite sure how he means it, but your chest still expands at the compliment.

“And you’re very handsome,” you retort lamely.

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about telling me all evening?”

“No,” you reply too slowly this time.

He kisses your temple, then brings his mouth right next to your ear. “I’ve been thinking about watching myself fuck you.”

He doesn’t give you time to process, takes you over to the vanity that stands opposite your bed, its mirror dull in the dim light of the room. Even when he places your hands on the table top, telling you to hold on, you still don’t think he’s serious. You look at yourself in the mirror, at the makeup smudges below your eyes, the birth mark on your throat that you hate, how your mouth hangs open in a way that looks so very unsexy. Behind you, that stranger you invited into your room, this man you know nothing about, is unbuttoning his expensive dress pants, his white shirt obscuring the view. What does he see in you that makes him want you like this?

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut.

He’s holding himself now, but you can’t see his hand moving without turning around. And he didn’t tell you you’re allowed to look. Your palms begin to sweat against the wooden surface of the vanity, at the thought of him telling you what you are and aren’t allowed to do, at him praising you for doing well and punishing you if you don’t. You don’t recognize that side of yourself.

His eyes are open again and he searches for yours in the mirror. “I asked you a question.”

You swallow hard. “No, I don’t,” you say, fighting down a giggle. It’s nerves.

“I’d better show you then,” he concludes, and he pushes inside of you with one hard stroke, filling you faster than you can spread your legs.

You both take a moment to breathe. He adjusts himself, you try to get used to the angle, the feeling of fullness. You haven’t seen his hard cock, but you know he’s more than Piers, so much more the stretch is almost uncomfortable. The wood beneath your fingers starts to swim when your vision blurs and –

“No, none of that.” He grips your chin and lifts your head, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. “I’ve also been thinking about you watching me fuck you.”

His hand looks so big holding your face like that, and when you swallow again, he can feel it against his fingers.

His own face is right there next to yours, his eyes firmly fixed to yours through the glass. “You’re a big girl. I’m sure you can take it.”

Before you can think of anything to say, he pulls out of you and thrusts back in in a tentative motion that is enough for your eyes to flutter shut in pleasure.

“No, no, no,” he whispers into your ear. “Keep them open.”

You do as you’re told and he rewards you with a sharp bite to the spot where your neck meets your shoulders. Your hips thrust back of their own accord, meeting his in a quick snap.

“You make such pretty sounds,” he mumbles against your skin.

You hadn’t even realized you were making any, too transfixed by watching him move behind you. Whenever your gaze wavers and flutters to your own face, embarrassment sends adrenaline shooting through your body. But he … watching his shoulders and arms tense and relax beneath his shirt that looks all too tight now, watching him meet your gaze, eyes full of lust … you don’t know why you would fuck anyone any other way than this.

He straightens his back, changing the angle slightly, and now you do hear yourself groan. He grabs your chin tighter and pushes two fingers into your mouth. “You know,” he says, and his hips snap with more force, faster, making the vanity rattle beneath your hands, “if you were mine, I’d let no man touch you. I would’ve broken his arm.”

It takes you a few seconds to figure out what he means; you’re too busy relishing the taste of his skin on your tongue. There must have been a man who touched you … when you were coming down the stairs … You can see it all clearly now. He would grab that man’s arm, calm and collected, twist it, make him shout in surprise … you can almost hear the bones snap.

“Oh, look at that,” he groans, and you do. You look at yourself in the mirror, unashamed, eyes wide. You watch how you eagerly suck and lick his fingers, watch it as if another person was doing it. You’re trembling in his grip … or is he making everything shake with his thrusts that are coming faster and faster now as he fucks you, taking what he needs? “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You almost don’t hear him, too transfixed by how depraved he’s making you feel. “You’d get off on that, a good man protecting you. Shame I’m not good, really.”

You don’t care. You’re done with those men who act politely, who treat you with care when they know Piers is around, but who talk about you taking it up the ass when your back is turned. You’d much rather have this, a man who isn’t scared to say these things to your face. Even if he thinks he isn’t all good, he still protected you.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and you whimper at the loss, watching how a thread of spit connecting his digits to your lips breaks. With his other hand, he suddenly grabs one of your breasts, squeezing your hard nipple with practiced ease, and you arch your back with a moan, exposing your throat to him. His fingers close around it, hard, restricting the airflow, his ring pressing against one of the most vulnerable spots of your body in a way that doesn’t leave any room for doubt – you’re doing this on his terms.

He tightens his grip on your throat until you start seeing stars, the loosens it. “I’m going to make you come now. I want you to watch yourself. I want you to see what you look like coming around my cock.”

If you could, you would nod, but he isn’t looking for your consent. He rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger one last time, then lowers his hand to find your clit. When he touches you, you make a sound like never before, one that’s feral and animalistic and can’t possibly be coming from you.

He shushes you, his breath tickling your neck. “You don’t want anyone to hear us.”

You don’t? You have no idea. You can’t form a single coherent thought as he pounds into you, making sure you’ll be able to feel him long after he’s done with you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Your voice is breathless after that scream, hoarse and raw. Your gaze flickers to his fingers curled tightly around your neck.

“Keep your eyes on yourself, baby girl,” he orders.

Baby girl.

That’s what does it. You watch your eyes widen and your mouth fall open as your body shakes first from his thrusts and then from wave after wave of pleasure. He was right. You love this. You love watching yourself come while he forces you to watch yourself, love to watch your orgasm play out across your face. He’s watching you too, licking his lips hungrily, never faltering. But you can see it in his eyes, the way he’s memorizing every detail of your orgasm.

“Well done,” he says once you’re done and moves your chin so he can kiss your lips.

Then he suddenly pushes you down so your chest connects with the table top. You grunt in surprise, then in pain when he rolls your head to the side so you can still somewhat glimpse his reflection above you.

“My turn,” he growls.

His teeth are digging into his bottom lip, his eyes are firmly fixed on his own reflection, and he holds you down with such a strong grip you can’t move, but also in a way that’s so casual it makes you feel like he’s using you. Your heart stutters with longing so intense at that thought that the feeling spreads to the rest of your body and becomes so intense he feels it in his own. At least you think that is what’s going on when he smiles down on you.

The position you’re in and the tenderness between your legs steadily turns from pleasurable to uncomfortable to simply too much. But he doesn’t finish. He keeps going and going, not as fast as before, seemingly transfixed by what you’re doing. You reach back for him and he grabs your wrist and pins it to the small of your back.

“Please,” you whimper, and it makes his intense gaze falter for just one second.

“Almost there, baby girl,” he replies, “you’re doing so well. Just keep taking it a little while longer.” You think you could bear anything if he just kept talking to you like that.

Then suddenly it’s over. There is one last thrust that pushes you onto the tips of your toes and then he stills. The only movement comes from his hips that are twitching as he empties himself inside of you. You don’t even dare to breathe, watching as his reflection slowly relaxes and he closes his eyes for a few seconds, trying to catch his breath.

Finally, he pulls out of you and you try to stand, but he pushes you back down again. “Stay. We’re not done yet.”

Your legs tremble in anticipation, but your mind is blank, unable to imagine what else he could have in store for you. You don’t feel anything at first, you just hear him moan, and then you realize he’s kneeling behind you, cleaning you up with his tongue, eagerly licking his own release off your skin. It makes you feel so lewd you forget about everything, even Piers. Especially when he doesn’t stop at your thighs but moves further and further up your legs until his tongue and nose are buried in your folds once more and he’s spreading you open with his big hands.

You can’t help it.

“Fuck, fu- I- I’m gonna –”

There’s no time for you to finish the warning before you’re coming a third time, your hips desperately twitching against the vanity. He licks you through it, catching every last drop you’re giving him on his tongue. You can’t tell for sure but you think he’s chuckling and for some reason the shame you feel turns you on even more.

When it’s all over, he peels you off the vanity and pulls you into his arms, brushing your hair out of your face that is sticky with sweat. “You sure are a greedy little thing,” he says before he kisses you tenderly.

You swallow a sob and give him a sigh instead.

“Half the people downstairs probably heard us.” There’s a big grin on his face at that thought.

“I don’t give a fuck,” you repeat your earlier sentiment, surprised to discover that it’s true.

“Someone wants to get caught,” he teases and kisses you again.

“What I want is for you to fuck me like that again.”

“Oh, baby girl.” You almost hate how he’s already figured out what hearing him call you that does to you. “There are a million more things I want to do with you. This was just a taste.”

You’re not sure if you can believe him, but you decide to indulge that fantasy. You put on your sweetest smile. “Can’t wait.”

He lets go of you and walks toward your door. “Why don’t you give me a call once you’re back in Manhattan.”

A red warning light switches on somewhere in your brain. “But I don’t even know your name.”

“Something tells me you’ll find out.” And with that, he’s gone.

#materialists fanfiction #materialists #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #is this anything?#quicksand

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heartshapedbubble · 9 months

Note

Ello can I request a Norton Fools good x fem reader where she came across the blown up mines and sees Norton (in his hunter form) she’s scared at first but starts to recognise him and slowly starts to approach him reaching her hand up to cub his cheeks ( bro this man needs all the love! )

HOO BOY i agree tho... his release made me regain my interest in norton🫡🫡

[not to be a scum but i'm still open for sanrio emma comms btw😭😭]

fool's gold: imagine...⛏️

cut for length!

paying the bills has become a hellish cycle. break your back to pay off the expenses, relax for the following twenty-ish days, and be sent into frenzy again, not knowing if you're going to have a roof over your head tomorrow or not.

you found yourself hopelessly skimming through newspaper, looking for any job offer possible that would easen up the burden on your wallet. The paper was plastered with offers from bars, post offices and restaurants, but those were a always gamble. will you get your wage or not? and if you will, when? too much effort for something so high-risk.

at last, a small offer in the corner of the page caught your attention. pressed in miniscule letters, it said: MINE RESEARCH. EMPLOYEES URGENTLY NEEDED. EQUIPMENT PROVIDED. underneath the text, an attractive number: $15,000 payed off immediately after the job is done.

not only could this solve the rent for the following 3 months, you'd also have some money left for yourself! you rang the number the second you got home and successfully scored the job, due to the urgency of the situation.

it took you a day or two to start thinking about the job. what do you exactly need to know for mine research? probably at least some physical strength and stamina, you thought. surely it can't be too complex.

you arrived at the mine right on time, the sun slowly slipping back into the horizon to let the moon take center stage. to your dismay, you realized no one else applied for the job. maybe this wasn't a good idea after all? crawling through the narrow, rocky terrain all alone doesn't sound like the ideal scenario. no living being in sight, and 20 minutes have already went by.

still, that money is way too good to pass up. you picked up one of the yellow helmets piled up at the entrance, prayed to whatever god out there that your flashlight has enough power to last the following 2 hours and mindlessly rushed into the collapsing mine.

for the following 10 minutes, your sight unfocused while your mind took the lead, in front of and all around you just rocks and grime, shadows dispelled by the flashlight held by your hip like a lance. only after a good 5 minutes of running did you realize that you, in fact, have no idea what you're supposed to do. what qualifies as mine research? mining, inspecting the ores, measuring the surface?

all sweaty and breathless, the tunnel led you to a large room inside of the mine, the roof extending towards what seemed like a pitch black abyss. carts messily thrown around, bumpy and unpolished geodes laying all over the place, when was the last time a living being stepped foot into this mine? it made sense that such a large sum of money was needed to attract volunteers.

you carefully moved through the rubble, trying to avoid stepping onto pickaxes and shrapnel splayed all over the ground. since you forgot about the gloves your bare hand now held onto the unpromising terrain, the other firmly squeezing the only source of light in this limbo.

the surface grazing your hand now seems like it became... smoother? no longer does it cut and pierce your palms. it's bumpy, but at least you're not risking an infection anymore.

moving inch by inch in fear of falling, the stone below changes its form. you don't even pay attention to the fact that you're now grabbing onto cloth and that, below your palm, a steady pulse is faintly beating.

it's already too late when you realize that you're not alone, and the stone below you starts to take shape and morph until it extends towards the ceiling, now towering over you, slouched like a ragdoll.

complementing the cold shades of grey, a face emerges from the shadows. pale, with defined cheekbones, although malnourished. only his bust passes as human, as below his collarbones there's nothing but a mosaic of pebbles and boulders forming his torso, arms and legs. it - or he, perhaps - is breathing with struggle, coughs interrupting his wheezes here and there.

you feel a sense of dread overcoming you. you freeze on the spot, but he doesn't budge, either. lifeless except for the fact he's breathing and his heart ticks like a machine.

you draw back a step, and he lunges forward, seemingly still not used to this monstrous body of his. he could harm me with ease if he wanted to, a thought suddenly manifests in your mind, and with newfound bravery you inspect the cryptid like a sculpture. your hand grazes over his bumpy and unfinished hands, tugs at the remains of his clothes around his chest. he groans, in annoyance, you assume, but doesn't resist. you climb up a cart to reach his face, your fingers pinch his stubborn hairstrands, inspect the cavity in which his other eye once laid. in a moment of either stupidity or courage you roughly pinch his cheeks - they're cold to the touch, but it's funny how naturally does his intimidating face mush like a little boy's. kind of cute. after a minute of cooing to yourself two of his rocky fingers gently pinch your wrists and put them back to your sides, but his one foggy eye doesn't divert its gaze from yours.

perhaps the flashlight can last an hour more.. you've just began getting to know him, and the mystery of the mine and his origin still lay cold for you to discover.

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bungalowbear · 4 months

Text

Subtle Curves

Pairing: stuntman!toji x actress!reader

Warnings: smut (p in v), descriptions of reader being pregnant (round stomach, throwing up), one curse word, MDNI

Word Count: 2k

A/N: This is my entry for @ayyy-pee’s Jujutsu Journal Collab. Congrats on 3k, Lexi! And thank you for hosting this creative event! I hope you enjoy!

The bed frame slams against the wall with each of Toji’s powerful thrusts. You’re glad to be renting this condo while you’re filming your latest movie. If you, the star of the film, brought a stuntman, who was also the stunt coordinator, back to your trailer then the entire cast and crew would have no trouble deducing exactly what kind of stunts you two perform behind closed doors.

Currently, Toji has your hips raised in his lap, hands gripping into the flesh of your sides as he drills into you. Your back is raised several inches off the mattress as your chest heaves. Hands gripping the edges of the pillow underneath your head, you cry out his name with tears clinging to your lashes.

“Toji,” you whimper, “s’too much. I-I can’t take it.”

He leans forward and the dark curtain of his hair obscures the top half of his face. The only thing you can see clearly in your delirious haze is the devious grin that pulls at the scar on his lip. “Yes you can. C’mon, baby. One more. For me?”

A calloused hand dips lower, thumb circling your already overstimulated clit. Although every neuron firing in your brain is signaling for retreat, the lower half of your body matches Toji’s thrust.

The coil in your belly gets more and more constricted with each pass of his thick member sliding through your wet walls. Toji’s pace becomes erratic, his thrusts turning choppy and his breath shaky, and you know he is on the verge of his release too.

When the combination of his cock and finger’s stimulation is too much, the coil releases and you gush onto the bed sheets with a scream. Toji chases his peak with more sloppy thrusts. One, two more strong slaps of his skin against yours and he’s emptying himself into your tight heat.

Toji falls forward with a groan. He’s conscious enough to not put all of his weight on you as he breathes heavily against your ear. The skin of your sweat soaked bodies clings together as you come down from your highs.

“Fuck, that was good.” When you don’t answer, Toji pulls away to look down at where you’re slowly succumbing to sleep. He snickers. “Tapping out already? We’re barely going into the third round.”

“Not tonight, Toji.” Your eyes flutter closed. “I’m so…sleepy.”

Toji’s brow furrows, but he doesn’t protest. Not that you’d hear any of it since you’re already knocked out. It’s a bit strange that for the entirety of filming, no matter how long the day was, you were always raring to go into the late hours of the night. Maybe it’s the slump of being in the last weeks of production that’s got you so fatigued.

Shame, Toji thinks to himself, he wanted to get as many orgasms out of you as possible before you go your separate ways. He supposes he’ll have to make up for lost time tomorrow night. Toji shifts you onto your side, cock still nestled warmly between your legs, and drapes the blanket over your bodies to settle in for the night.

Kneeling on the marble floor of the hotel bathroom, you empty your stomach into the toilet for the third time that day. You clutch the curved edges as you lose the last of your lunch.

There’s a knock on the door before your publicist enters. She’s already grabbing your toothbrush and spreading a dollop of minty paste onto the bristles. You rise to your feet and accept her offering. As you brush your teeth she runs one of the hand towels under cold water, wringing it out then dabbing away the perspiration clinging to your forehead.

“This is the last stop on the press tour,” she says. “We’ve cleared your schedule and haven’t taken on any more commitments. After this, you can focus on…”

Her vice trails off, glancing down at your stomach.

Three months ago your clothes started fitting tighter, your stomach a little pudgier. You were constantly tired, but a period of fatigue was normal for you after finishing a film. It wasn’t until after you’d been throwing up quite frequently that you scheduled a doctor’s appointment.

“Congratulations,” the words echo dully in your memory, “you’re pregnant.”

You spit toothpaste into the sink and rinse. Some of your makeup is smudged, which means you’ll have to ask your glam team for a touch up. They’re in the next room, all sworn to secrecy via NDAs, and as much as you adore them you just want to be out of this hotel and back in the comfort of your own home.

You smooth your hands over your stomach. You’re nearing week sixteen, which means, while the morning sickness will soon be a thing of the past, you’re also starting to show. The curve of your belly is subtle, but it’s easily identifiable by anyone who’s really looking. Unfortunately for you there’s always people looking.

Thankfully it’s wintertime and snow comes down in gentle flurries over Tokyo. This gives you an excuse to wear a thick sweater and a larger coat to conceal your changing body.

Your publicist ushers you out of the bathroom, handing you off to your makeup artist to erase any evidence of your condition. In twenty minutes you’re the picture of perfection once again. You say your goodbyes then make your way downstairs where the car is waiting. It takes you to the venue where you meet your co-stars. You’re excited to be reunited nearly five months after wrapping. You all plan for dinner afterwards before being divided into pairs and sent off for interviews.

You shouldn’t be surprised to see Toji at dinner. He lives in Tokyo and became good friends with the male lead, who he was the stunt double for, of course he’d be invited. This should have been a scenario you saw coming. But you didn’t. So now the two of you are sat on opposite ends of the table, trying not to meet the others gaze.

When filming wrapped, you both agreed to stay in touch. It was easy at first. Exchanging flirty texts, maybe a steamy photo or two, but when you found out you were pregnant you had a hard time keeping up pretenses. He was the only man you were intimate with in the time frame of when the baby growing inside you was conceived, making him the father. So you did what any mature adult would do.

You ghosted him.

The right thing to do is to tell him. He has the right to know. And you want to, but there’s one thing holding you back. An intimate detail he divulged a month into sleeping together. He has a son. A son he doesn’t see. He didn’t explain why, and you didn’t pressure him, but you figured since he doesn’t have a relationship with the child he does have that he wasn’t interested in having another.

You aren’t going to force him to be responsible for your child. There are countless single parents out there in the world. Thankfully, you’re in a position where you can support a growing family. It would be a big change, but nothing you can’t handle.

Your gaze meets Toji’s only once during the entire dinner. His unreadable expression makes your spine shudder and you divert your attention back to your plate.

When dinner is over, everyone says their goodbyes and goes their separate ways. You’re not ready to go back to the hotel yet. Feeling like you really need some time alone, you text your publicist that you’ll be out a little longer. There aren’t many people in this part of the city at this time so you’re not worried about being approached by anyone who might recognize you. Starting down the sidewalk, you have a brief thought that you didn’t see Toji exit the restaurant. But a sudden hand over your mouth sends your mind into a panic as you’re dragged into a narrow alley.

You bite down on your captor’s fingers and are released with a growl. An attempt at fleeing is foiled when a large hand grabs your arm, spinning you around and bringing you face to face with…Toji?

“You jerk!” You shove at his chest. He doesn’t budge at all. “I was so scared!”

“You’ve got to be more aware of your surroundings,” is all he says.

You huff. “Whatever.”

“So…why’d you ghost me?”

“I…”

You cross your arms over your chest. Turning your body away, you struggle to find the right words.

“I thought we had fun.” Suddenly he’s right behind you, strong chest pressed to your back. You can feel his warmth through your coat. “Was even thinking about going out to see you.”

You tilt your head to look back at him. Your voice is small, tinged with girlish hope. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Toji crowds closer. A finger traces the curve of your cheek. He runs hot even in this freezing weather. It’s a welcome contrast to your cold skin and you find yourself leaning into his touch.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” you say.

“You’re pregnant,” He’s stone faced again. “And it’s mine.”

“W-what?” you splutter. Turning so that you’re facing him, your lips part in shock. “How did you know? Who told you?”

“No one told me.” He shrugs. “I remember how tired you were the last couple weeks of shooting. Then you told me how much your were puking before you quit responding to me. Took me a bit to remember the signs, but I figured that’s what it was.”

“Oh.”

“Plus you used the restroom like ten times tonight.”

“It was only four times,” you correct.

“Right,” he agrees flatly. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I remember what you told me about your son. I didn’t think you’d want another kid.”

“Ah, well….” He scratches at the top of his head, looking toward the wall of the alley to avoid your eyes. “You know you have options, right?”

“Like abortion?”

“Probably a little late for that.” Toji rolls his eyes. “I meant, like, putting it up for adoption.”

“I thought about that,” you admit, “but I want to keep it.”

Toji’s silent. There’s a tension between you that isn’t reminiscent of what you had when you were on set. That was playful and fiery and free. This is awkward and tepid and tethering.

“You don’t have to be a part of the baby’s life. I won’t make you. But…I really do miss you.” Toji sighs at your admission. You don’t know why you’re willing to let loose all of your thoughts about him from the past five months, but you push on anyway. “And if I’m being honest, it makes me sad to think about never seeing you again. Even if I wasn’t having your baby.”

You don’t want Toji to think you’re being clingy, or worse, pathetic, over a purely physical relationship. Because that’s what you both agreed it was. Tears leak from the corners of your eyes and you try to suppress the lump that threatens to climb up out of your throat, but your body won’t cooperate. Your hormones are in a frenzy and all you know is what you feel. Logic nowhere to be found.

Toji pulls you into his chest when the first sob escapes, embracing you carefully with both arms across your back until you calm down. When your tears subside and your breathing evens out he takes you by the shoulders and puts himself at arms length from you. He bends down so that you’re both at face level.

“We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You dab at your eyes with the sleeve of your coat and nod your head. Then Toji does something unexpected. He takes your chin between his thumb and pointer, tilting your head up just enough for him to connect your lips with his. It’s a brief kiss, but it’s comforting and reassuring. A private moment that silently communicates there’s still more to your story.

Unfortunately, neither of you notice the camera flash at the far end of the alley.

i do not have a taglist. please follow @bungalowbear-archive and turn on notifications.

dividers by @/firefly-graphics

#catalog #subtle curves #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #JujutsuJournal #toji smut #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji

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deathbecomesthem · 2 months

Text

Eddie Munson x gn!eader - ~650 words

+18 ONLY - Minors DNI

Smut blurb - somnophilia

Rays of sunlight on pale skin. A long expanse of skin like carved marble is laid out in front of you. Your feet pad over his discarded clothes, careful not to make a sound, while you consider the meal he’s left out for you. His left leg hitched up in a way that gives you a full view of his beautiful ass. God, he’s so pretty like this it makes you ache.

You leave him there for a moment, step out onto the porch of the trailer to find your bearings. You weren’t supposed to be in until tomorrow afternoon, you wanted it to be a fun surprise for him to wake up next to you for the first time in weeks. And then you walk into his bedroom and find his beautiful body on full display. You want to smell him. Crawl into his skin. You want him to stay in that quiet restful place while you search and pray against his warmth.

You go back inside and stand at the foot of the bed to look at the slopes and planes of his skin. The way the coarse hair on his thighs lightens at his pretty, peachy cheeks. He rustles a bit and lets out a shallow sigh. He really is out, he must have smoked before turning in. It’s been so hot, you’re not surprised he decided to sleep in the nude with the windows open. The AC probably took a shit again, it’s set on the carpet behind his bedroom door.

You take your shoes off and set them by the dresser. You don’t dare take off your jeans, worried the zipper might rouse him from his dream. It must be a good one, because he has a small smile on his lips. You consider kissing him until he wakes, but push the thought aside. You want to play with him.

The first touch is gentle, your warm palm against his inner thigh, the edge of a finger against his sac. Eddie hums but doesn’t move. Your hand moves a little firmer now, you reach under to feel his cock hardening under his body. You let out your own hum in satisfaction, and stroke. Slowly. It’s awkward, but you don’t want to risk encouraging him to move to allow better access. You hold your breath as you remove your hand from his cock.

Small movements, a hand goes under his pillow. You see his brow stitch together, a sign that he subconsciously misses your touch. Another sigh. You could stand and watch him like this for hours. You slowly place your hands on each cheek of his ass, and spread to expose his sweet little entrance. Eddie’s hips shift, and you take your opportunity. You bend down and run your tongue along his hole.

“Ahh,” Eddie’s voice is muffled by the pillow. You press your tongue more firmly against him, and reach a hand back under him to find his cock. He rocks into your fist. He’s wet, leaking against the web of skin between your thumb and finger. You can’t tell if he’s still asleep, he’s likely standing in limbo between a dream and his bed. You swipe the ridged pad of your thumb with every stroke of your hand.

The ache in your gut refuses to be ignored, you feel your own hips rocking in tandem with his. You feel empty, and he looks like he can fill you up perfectly. You release his cock and watch it bounce. His whimper sends a jolt down your spine. You shift him. Lay him on his back. You wipe the drool from the corner of his mouth with your tongue while you swing your leg over his hips, your warm center sinking down onto his beautiful cock.

Brown eyes peek through slitted eyelids and he says, “Is this a dream?”

“Yes, Eddie. Go back to sleep,” you tell him, rocking him deeper and deeper inside of you.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson blurb #smut blurb

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probably-writing-x · 3 months

Text

All The Firsts (Part 2)

Summary: So, could you write something about the reader being in her first relationship with spider (hbh) and her being worried about how she’s new at this?

Warnings: Mentions of sex / sexual acts, cursing, hints at anxiety / overthinking, Missy being a villain (I’m so sorry it just fits the story okay?)

Word Count: 5.8k

Author’s Note: Thank you for the love on part one!! Part three is already in the works if y’all want it??

You’d spent the whole weekend with Spencer after that. You cooked dinner together on Saturday night and bickered over when the pasta was done cooking. You watched his favourite movie and then made him watch yours. And on Sunday, you went to watch the sunrise over the water and then spent the rest of the day cuddled in bed. Spencer kissed you at every opportunity, like he was reminding you more and more that this was real. You still got nervous at the contact, still weren’t exactly sure if you were doing it right or if it felt as good for him as it did for you. But he seemed to know exactly what he was doing.

“I should really go back to mine,” You mumble, laying between his legs with your back pressed against his chest as he played video games.

He was propped up against the headboard, pausing the game when you speak.

“A few more hours won’t hurt,” He leans down to kiss your cheek.

“Yes, it will,” You laugh, “I’ve still not done my homework for tomorrow, and I need to be home at least some point this weekend.”

He grumbles and tightens his grip around you, “Homework can wait.”

You hum, tilting your head to peck his lips quickly, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He groans, kissing you once more before releasing his grip on you.

Spencer gets up and walks you down the stairs, even standing at the door to watch you walk the few steps over to your house. He only closes the door when he sees you go inside.

If you thought about it briefly, this entire weekend felt like a fever dream. How had you gone from Friday to now? On Friday, you’d been preparing for your first date, with a guy you’d known for a week, your first experience of anything like this. And in the past two days, Spencer had shown you so much of what you felt like you’d been missing. Kissing you, holding you, making you feel like you were worthy of every piece of affection. Your heart seemed to backflip at the thought, the idea that this was reality.

“There she is!” It’s your Mum who speaks up as soon as you enter the house, “I’d have started to get worried if you were any further away than next door.”

You laugh, “Yeah, sorry, I thought I should come home at least once before the weekend’s over.”

“Oh don’t be silly, you’re young, you’re supposed to be out all the time,” She chuckles, “This is what we’re meant to be putting up with as parents.”

You’d always been close with your parents, mainly because they never had much to worry about. You got good grades, you were always home on time, you helped out around the house, you were never one to be out late partying or off somewhere they didn’t know. You were too much of a golden girl to be a worry for them. If anything, your Mum was a little relieved to see you doing something at least slightly out of character.

“So, Spencer?” She raises her brows at you, “Little Spec that you used to have sleepovers with, Spec that drives you to school every day. When did this happen?”

“Um,” You clear your throat, scratching at the back of your neck, “I don’t know, it’s new. I actually don’t know wh- I don’t know.”

“Oh I don’t understand you young kids these days,” She shakes her head, “Are you dating are you not dating? I’ll never understand it.”

“I should go and do my work before tomorrow,” You excuse yourself, making your way upstairs to your own room.

The curtains are open and so are Spencer’s across the way. He’s sat back on his bed still playing the same game he’d been playing before you left, fully engrossed in the screen.

Do your work!!

You send the text and set your phone down onto your desk, glancing through the window once more to see him smile down at the words on his screen. He looks up to you through the window then and his lips curl into an even brighter smile. You feel your heart flip once more.

———

The following morning, Spencer is waiting in the car like he always is for you. You hurry down and get into the passenger seat, dropping your bag onto the back seats,

“Good morning, doll,” He smiles when he sees you, leaning over to kiss you quickly, “Ready to go?”

“Yeah, ready,” You nod, plugging your phone into the aux.

You’d done this same journey a million times with Spencer. And yet something felt so different about being sat next to him now. He wasn’t just the boy you’d grown up with now, he was your first kiss, your first date, the first time you’d stayed over at a guys house, the first boy you were talking to your Mum about. He was filling in so many firsts.

In that moment, however, you have the realisation that none of those were yet to be firsts for him. He’d had plenty of kisses in his time, had more than enough dates, had a number of girls stay over at his house, his Mum had even met Missy. He’d done all of those things before he’d done them with you. And that was okay. You couldn’t exactly be annoyed at him for experiencing those things before you. What mattered that it was you now. Right? But what if those other girls had been better than you? What if they’d kissed better or been prettier or been more confident or…

“Where’s that head gone?” Spencer speaks over your overthinking, “Because if you’re about to start talking to me about your math homework I’m pulling the car over.”

“No, no, I’m just-“ You half-laugh, looking over to him, “Nothing.”

He smiles, keeping his eyes focused on the road as he moves his hand from the gearstick to instead rest on your thigh, his thumb smoothing over the bare skin below the cut-off of your shorts.

Your skin tingles beneath his touch, seemingly another first for you. But how many girls had sat in this seat? How many girls had he made that same move with? You swallow the lump in your throat and try to ignore it.

———

Spencer parks up in his usual spot and you both get out of the car, him handing you your bag as you do.

“Okay, I’ll see you at the end of the day,” You nod, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“What are you talking about?” He laughs, reaching for your hand and interlocking your fingers, “Come on, come say hi to the guys, at least stay with us until first period.”

“I-“ You frown, “I never see you much in school.”

He laughs again, turning around to face you, “Got somewhere better to be, (Y/l/n)?”

“I- no,” You smile, following alongside him as he walks you over to the wall where a group of the boys were sat.

You didn’t recognise any of them, apart from Ant. The only other two you’d known were Dusty and Malakai but both of them had left now. Ant is sat with another girl, Harper, and she smiles when she sees you.

“Morning boys,” Spider says, “You all know (Y/n), right?”

“Yeah how’s it going (Y/n)? You’re never with us in the morning,” Ant points out, smiling so you knew he didn’t mean it rudely.

“Yeah Ant’s brain will probably combust if he’s with more than one girl at once, right buddy?” Spencer hits his leg and takes a seat on the wall opposite them.

This spot used to be an old bike park but too many kids got their wheels slashed so Woodsy gave up on the idea of having one. Now, it was just three walls all perpendicular to each other, with the remains of metal railings in the centre. You hop up onto the spot beside Spencer and he leans one of his arms around the back of you - not necessarily around you, just resting there as if he wanted to reassure you.

“How come you weren’t out on Friday Spider?” One of the guys asks him.

“I…” Spider glances at you and then back to the group, “Something came up.”

Harper looks at you across the way and smiles. She must be able to tell you’re nervous. You’re not sure if you should speak or let the others do the talking. Should you be making it more obvious that something was going on with Spencer? Were they all going to question him on it as soon as you left?

“Well, you should’ve been there.”

“Yeah, man, you missed a good party.”

They all go into explaining something that had happened at the party and you try to pick up on names you might recognise. Someone mentions Missy and you feel your chest tighten, a strange reaction, you think.

“Hey (Y/n), I think we have first period together,” Harper mentions, “Maths right? Do you want to walk over?”

“Yeah, yeah sure,” You nod, reaching for your bag.

You hop down from the wall and watch as Harper turns to kiss Ant before she leaves. Oh god. Should you do the same to Spencer. You turn around and look at him and he smiles.

“I’ll see you at lunch?”

“Um, yeah, okay,” You nod, “See you.”

He didn’t make a move to kiss you. But, then again, neither did you. Maybe you should have done. Will his friends think you were weird if you didn’t?

“Sorry, thought you might just want to get away from that boy talk for a while,” Harper leans in to say to you quietly as you’re both walking away, “You and Spencer are a thing then?”

“Oh, um,” You shrug, “Yeah, I guess so, it’s new so I don’t know.”

“You guys have been friends for like ever though right?” She points out, “He mentions you all the time.”

“He does?”

“Oh yeah,” Harper laughs, “Ant was telling me the other week the boys ask for lifts off Spider all the time and he always refuses. They call you his ‘golden girl’. I’m honestly surprised it took him this long to make a move.”

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, suppressing a smile that you’d save for when you mentioned this to Spider later, “Yeah, I didn’t think anything would ever happen with us. But I’m glad it has.”

You walk through to class with her and go to sit with your friends on the table near the front. They ask you about your weekend and oddly enough you can’t bring yourself to mention anything about Spencer. What would you say? You knew a few of them silently judged him and that entire group for everything. They were so different to you guys. They were loud and outgoing and disruptive. And you guys got your work in on time and spoke about plans for after school or what the latest book you were reading was. They were… just different. And so you liked the idea of keeping the two things separate for a while. At least whilst you were still figuring out what exactly was going on with you and Spencer. You didn’t want to ask for fear of the answer not being what you desired.

———

By the middle of the day, you’re leaving your class for lunch. Your few friends walk out with you and go to turn down the corridor towards your lockers but, as you step out of the room, you’re stopped by someone else.

“Last out of class, I shouldn’t be surprised,” Spencer comments as his hand stops your wrist in motion, “Ready to go to lunch?”

The girls turn around and look at you with a frown, looking between you and him and then down to where his hand still held you.

“Um, I’ll catch up with you guys later,” You smile to them, turning around to Spencer before you can catch sight of their disapproving faces.

“I don’t think you’ve ever introduced me to your friends,” Spencer points out, “Do they know about me?”

“Everyone knows about you,” You laugh, “You’re not exactly known for being incognito around school. In fact, I’m pretty sure you hit one of them with a cake once when you started that food fight after the elections.”

He grimaces, “Yeah, might have to apologise for that one if I want to get in their good books.”

You like the idea of him wanting to impress your friends, the idea that he’d want them to like him. It makes you feel like there is some sort of permanence to this. Some sort of longevity that stretched beyond one perfect weekend.

“Here, you can put your stuff in my locker,” He mentions, taking your books from your arms, “I won’t let you forget it.”

Spencer closes the locker and then continues his walk beside you, his hand brushing yours every so often until his fingers lace with your own. Every little contact from him seemed like a gentle reminder that you really weren’t dreaming this. This was really happening.

You both wait in line to get your food and he places a hand on your back to let you go ahead of him. You still tingle under the touch. He asks you how your days been and tells you he’s thought of another film you need to watch. You ask him if he listened to the song you’d sent him last night and he said he’d already added it to his playlist.

He points out a table over in the corner and the two of you go over, sitting opposite each other.

“So this is technically our first meal out together,” You point out, pushing the rice around your plate, “You’re practically taking me out for dinner.”

“I always thought it would be more romantic than this,” Spider laughs, his leg brushing yours under the table.

“So you’ve thought about it.”

“Well I mean I-“

“There you are!”

Within moments, you’re interrupted by Spider’s friends clambering around the table. Ant sits down next to you and smiles, throwing down a wrapped sandwich and a bag of chips and a can of soda.

“Don’t mind if we join you, do you?” One of the boys sits beside Spider and nudges his arm.

“Um,” Spencer clears his throat, “Course not.”

He looks over to you but you’re already distracted by the chorus of conversation that starts up beside you.

Was this normal? The new normal? If you wanted to see Spencer did you have to spend all this time with his friends too? They seemed okay. But they were talking about a game you didn’t know, and another one of them brought up a school trip that was happening tomorrow. They all seem to speak over each other and yet all manage to understand. You eat your food, not really adding much to the conversation but smiling and nodding so that you at least looked like you were engaged. You wanted to be back with your friends in that moment - they’d be talking to you about a new film that they wanted to see, or a new album that was coming out and you’d agree and have something to actually input into the conversation. You could actually be part of the chorus. But right now you felt like a bystander.

———

Spencer drives you home, of course, and this time he comes round to your house instead of you parting ways at the car.

“I’m back Mum!” You call out as you step inside, tossing your keys into the bowl near the front door.

“Oh hello darling!” She beams when she sees you, “And Spencer! To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I heard you were making burgers, I’m just here for the burgers,” He grins, “It’s good to see you.”

“Im sure you get taller every time I see you, and you’re only over the way,” She smiles up at him, “Well you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner, as long as you help me open the pickles. I was going to wait for Dad to get home but now you’re here you can try.”

“Of course,” Spencer smiles, disappearing into the kitchen.

“I knew it would happen eventually,” Your Mum turns to you with a smile on her face, one that reminded you of your own, “I knew it!”

You roll your eyes, “Oh stop it Mum. It’s still new, we’re just… seeing how it goes.”

“Got them!” Spencer steps back out into the hallway, “I left the jar on the counter.”

“Oh thank you darling,” Your Mum smiles, “Dinner will be ready in about an hour.”

“Should we…?” Spencer looks at you.

“Yeah let’s go,” You go up the stairs and he follows behind you up into your bedroom.

It was a bedroom of magnolia walls, one of which was covered in displayed vinyl covers, a vinyl player on a table in the corner beside your desk. Your bed was against the same wall as the window and Spencer sits down onto the edge of it as you set your bag down and check your appearance in the mirror above your vanity.

“It feels weird to do the whole ‘meeting the parents thing’ when I already know her,” Spencer mentions, flicking through the pages of the book you’d left on your bed, “Less nerve wracking.”

“Is it normally worse than that?” You ask, “Because that still seemed pretty uncomfortable."

"What do you mean? She loves me!"

"I dont know I just-" You shake your head, "I don't know what to say when people ask me about us. Harper asked about it earlier and I just don't know what I'm supposed to say."

"Well, there’s nothing you’re supposed to say,” He shrugs, “It’s up to you.”

“I think it’s up to you too,” You point out, stepping towards him.

When you’re close enough, he reaches his hands out to draw you in between his legs, looking up at you as you stand there, “Just tell them we’re seeing each other. That’s enough to shut them up.”

“Are we? I mean… are we seeing each other?” Your cheeks are heating up again.

Spencer squints at you, “Yeah I think I can see you.”

You hit at his chest, “You know what I mean.”

He hums and moves his hands around to the back of your thighs, guiding you onto his lap, your thighs straddling either side of his, “Yeah, I think we are,” He mumbles close to your lips, planting a kiss there.

You smile against his touch, your arms wrapping around his neck. He holds his hands on your waist, deepening the kiss. You still weren’t sure what you were supposed to do, but you let him take the lead. You just let instinct take over. Spencer moves one hand to your back as if he wants to draw you impossibly closer to him. He smiles against your lips and shifts just enough to lift you up, guiding you down onto the mattress. Your head drops down to the pillow, hair splaying behind you. He’s hovering over you, hand gripping your hip as yours grip his shoulders, him dipping down to kiss you again. There’s contact and friction and the unfamiliar feeling of his weight on top of you. And something in your brain seems to ignite in that moment.

“Spencer,” You whisper, feeling your heartbeat pound against your chest, averting your eyes away from his gaze, “I don’t want to- I don’t-“

He stops in his movements, his hand still on your waist, looking down at you until your eyes meet his, “(Y/n), I didn’t- you know that’s okay, right?”

He shifts his weight until he drops down to the mattress beside you, leaning up onto his elbow so that he doesn’t lose your eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything,” He assures you, “I’m not in any rush.”

You look at him for a second and take a deep breath, “But I know you’ve… you know, you’ve done all of that before. Isn’t it weird for you if I don’t want to do any of that yet?”

He shakes his head instantly, “Absolutely not.”

There’s a tightness in your chest and for some reason, the longer he looks at you the more you feel like you’re going to cry under his focus. You can feel your bottom lip threatening to tremble.

“(Y/n) you’ve not done this before. You’re not supposed to know what to do or how to act or what to say - it’s okay to figure all of that out. I just want you to feel like you can tell me when things aren’t what you want, okay?” He holds your hand in his, “And if you ever feel like you can’t tell me, that’s when we’ve got a problem we need to fix.”

You smile and nod at him, not sure of any words that fit the moment, not sure of any words that you could get out without your voice breaking.

“Okay, can I kiss you now?” He smiles at you, leaning in and pausing just inches from your lips.

When you nod, he kisses you softly with a smile on his face. You feel your heart skip the same way it had done after your first kiss.

———

Your Mum was surprisingly relaxed about you and Spencer being together. She didn’t even think twice about saying he should stay the night. Maybe she was just happy to see you happy. Or maybe her old dreams for you were finally becoming a reality and she just wanted to hold onto it. You eat dinner with your parents and then watch a film with them downstairs before Spencer’s eyes start to slowly lose their energy and you tell your parents you should probably go to bed. He used a spare toothbrush and waited for you in the bathroom whilst you got unready, he sat on the toilet and read the ingredients of your skincare - stumbling over the complex spellings. He followed you out and back into your bedroom, closing the door behind him gently.

“Okay, full transparency, I normally sleep naked,” He raises his hands as if he’s surrendering the information.

You laugh, “Well, thanks for telling me.”

“But I can sacrifice that freedom for tonight and at least wear boxers,” He nods, pulling off his t-shirt and hanging it over your desk chair.

He’s toned and his muscles seem even more so defined in the dim light. His shoulders are broad and seem to contort so intensely that it makes the soft features of his face look almost misplaced on him.

“Are you staring at me, (Y/n)?” He grins, stepping towards you.

“Just-“ You swallow the lump in your throat, “Looking.”

“Looking?” He cocks a brow, wrapping his arms around your waist as soon as you’re within reach.

He buries his face into your neck, planting a soft kiss into the crook before tightening his arms and lifting you from the ground. You let out an involuntary squeal and wrap your arms around him as he carries you over to the bed, planting you down on the side closest to the wall before dropping down onto the mattress beside you. His arm is already outstretched, waiting for you to tuck in against his chest. You lay there and feel his heart under your head, swirling patterns with the tip of your finger around the bare skin of his torso.

“So I wanted to ask you something,” You take a breath, “How does this all work now? Like… if we’re… whatever we are… how does it work at school?”

“Do you mean with lunch? I’m sorry they all came over and sat with us, it’s just a force of habit and they probably didn’t think anything of it but-“

“No, it’s okay,” You say softly, looking down at a crease in the sheets on your bed, “I just mean in general - lunch, classes, before school - if we’re… i mean, should i be with you the whole time?”

“Do you not want to be?” He chuckles, “Because if I’m keeping you from-“

You lean up onto your elbow and roll your eyes, “That’s not what I meant!”

He laughs again, brushing your hair back over your shoulder, “There’s no rule book, (Y/n). I want to see you as much as I can but that doesn’t mean you should be worried about having to spend all this time with my friends too.”

“I know but like… Harper’s with you guys,” You shrug, your index finger drawing circles on his chest, “Would they think it’s weird if I’m not with you?”

He leans up just enough to press a kiss to your forehead, dropping back down onto the pillow before he says, “They can think whatever they want.”

He tightens his arm around you and pulls you back into him, wrapping both of his arms around your body in a tight embrace.

“We should get some sleep,” You mumble into him, arm draped over his torso.

It was strange to you how quickly you settled into contact with Spencer. You’d never done anything like this. And yet when he held you, when he touched you, it felt like it was just natural. It wasn’t as scary as you thought it would all be. Sure, some parts of it still were. But you weren’t as scared as before.

———

The following morning, Spencer leaves early to go and pack a bag. There was a school trip this week - in these cabins in the woods, surrounding a vast lake. All of your year group were going and more often than not it was an opportunity to hide drink and add to the complex web of gossip that already existed. You were almost packed anyway, putting the last couple of bits in, a book for when you got bored, a notebook and a few pens, an extra outfit just in case.

He texts you to make sure he’s not forgetting anything and then you go downstairs to meet him. He drives with his hand on your leg, singing along to the throwback playlist you’d queued. He pulls into his parking space and the bus is already waiting as students file on. His friends are still hanging around outside, yelling at him to come over when they see him get out of the car.

“I think I’m going to meet my friends on the bus,” You mention as you’re walking over, feeling a little nervousness in your voice, “Is that okay?”

Spencer looks at you and smiles, “Of course it is.”

He glances at his friends momentarily and then leans in to kiss you softly - it was quick but he didn’t rush, squeezing your hand before he heads over towards the boys. One of them swings his arm over Spencer’s shoulders, saying something incoherent before glancing over at you and grinning. You make your way onto the bus and go to sit in the few seats your friends were already occupying. They ask you if the Spencer White had seriously just kissed you outside and then complain at you for not telling them sooner. They weren’t as judgy as you’d expected. More surprised. They want to know how it happened, when it happened, was he a good kisser?

Spencer and his friends all pile into the bus and stumble over each other to get to their seats. They’re loud and take up space and your friends seem to exchange a glance between each other that they’re almost hiding from you. Like they want to complain but figure you’re not the one to complain to.

Spencer sits in the seat behind you and your friend, Ant sitting in one of the seats opposite as the other boys fill in the space. Missy and Sasha walk on, taking the row behind Spencer. You realise this is the first time you’d properly seen her since you and Spencer had got together. You hadn’t thought about it enough, clearly. But when you see her sit down you feel your stomach turn a little. She’d done all of this before. With Spider. Had he done all of the same things with her? Had he taken her to the same spot to swim? Had he fallen asleep watching a film with her? Had he kissed her the same way? She might’ve been better than you were, too. She was more experienced. She knew more of what to do, probably more confident in doing it too.

“So, our boy Spider’s in for a fun trip,” Ant wiggles his brows at his friend, “Should we be expecting a pregnancy by the end of the week?”

“Fuck off Ant,” Spencer returns quickly, and it’s as if you can feel his eyes burning into the back of your head.

“Come on, I’d be a good uncle!” Ant defends.

You glance over your shoulder and see Spencer laughing at him, a bright smile on his face. He turns over to you and rolls his eyes, his smile not faltering. You feel the heat in your cheeks again.

“Spider with a kid?” Missy laughs outwardly, “He’d give up after a few months, might not even make it to the birth.”

“Yeah I think Spider could be used as an example of why contraception is a good thing,” Sasha adds.

You turn around a little, like you want to tune into the conversation. They thought so little of him.

“I wouldn’t speak so soon, our boy’s married off now,” Ant raises his hands and he looks at you with a smile like he is reminding you he means well.

Harper hits at his arm as she sits down as if hoping it would take back what he just said. She looks at you and shakes her head.

“Married off? To who?” Missy persists.

“(Y/n).”

One of the boys says it but you don’t know which one. You feel your stomach churn again and that strange sort of numbness in your body where you wish you could just disappear into the seat beneath you. You didn’t like being the centre of attention like this. And it seemed to be a new common occurrence now that you were with Spencer.

“(Y/n)?” Missy doesn’t laugh but she might as well do, like it’s the most surprising news she’s heard, “You must be joking.”

Nobody says anything at first. And you feel the urge to get up and pretend this had nothing to do with you. You could just go back to being invisible, to existing away from the conversations of these people. To no longer be a topic of their discussion.

“Why would that be a joke?”

Even when you say the words you’re convinced they haven’t come from you. Surely not. You wouldn’t say anything. You would just sit there and not say anything. But you had done. And now even more eyes seemed to be on you.

You turn around and Missy is looking at you directly. Her arms are folded, her head cocked to the side, her eyebrows raised just slightly as if she’s analysing you.

“You’re smart, right?” She shrugs, “Shouldn’t take you long to figure it out.”

You don’t say anything more, turning back to the front of the bus. Your friends look at you but dont say anything and you feel Spencer move behind you as if he’s going to say something. But he doesn’t. He sinks back into this seat and the boys carry on a conversation like nothing has happened.

———

You’re in assigned rooms for the trip. And it’s just your luck, isn’t it? You, Harper, Amerie and Missy.

“Well, this looks cosy,” Amerie says as the four of you step into the room.

It’s a typical cabin bedroom, walls of wooden slats and a roof just the same. A wooden floor decorated with an aged carpet rug that was fraying at either end. There’s a window on the far side, a single pane that looks like it could be made of plastic. It looks out over to the water, seemingly a redeemable feature of the setting. There are two bunk beds, one either side of the room, either side of the window. The mattresses are thin, the pillows even thinner, blankets folded in a square on the ends of the bed beside a rolled up towel.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding,” Missy grumbles, dropping her bag down onto one of the bed, “This can’t get any worse.”

“Yeah, it can’t,” You mumble, sitting down on the opposite mattress.

Missy looks over at you as she sits down, taking a deep breath.

“Missy, don’t start something,” Harper says quickly, glancing at you with a sympathetic furrow between her brows.

“I just-“ Missy raises her hands as if gesturing that she came in peace, “I want to know what Spider’s told you. I mean, I dated that guy. I know what he’s like. What’s changed that he’s suddenly got to you?”

“Got to me?” You frown, “What do you mean?”

“He spoke about you a lot and when i asked him about it he said you two were just friends or whatever,” She shrugs, “Like, he told you he could never imagine seeing you like that.”

“Missy,” Harper’s voice is more of a warning tone now, like she can see exactly where this is going and what’s to end up ahead of it.

“Im just saying, he used to tell me he felt sorry for you - so is that what this is? This is just him feeling really, really sorry for you?”

You feel a lump form in your throat and you can’t figure out the right way to respond. What could you say? What did she want you to say?

Before you can say anything else, there’s a knock at the door. Amerie goes over to open it, mumbling something about it being a relief that something would break the tension.

“Fucking terrible timing Spider,” She winces, stepping aside at the doorway as if opening up the room.

You look over and he’s stood there. His hair is flopping on either side of his forehead, the smile on his face faltering at the sight. You and Missy sat opposite each other, your mouth empty of any words and your eyes brimming just enough with tears that hadn’t fallen. That lump still in your throat making it feel like it was impossible to breathe.

“(Y/n)?” He frowns, glancing between the girls as if he’s hoping at least one of them will give him an answer, “What’s happened?”

#heartbreak high #spencer white #heartbreak high spider #heartbreak high imagine #heartbreak high one shot #heartbreak high drabble #heartbreak high blurb #heartbreak high fic #spencer white x reader #spencer white x you #spencer white x y/n #spencer white fic #spencer white imagine #spencer white drabble #spencer white blurb #spider x reader #spider x you #spider x y/n

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fan-fantasies · 1 year

Text

Pray for Forgiveness

A/N: this could be read as a part two of Do You Jest or as a stand alone piece. It’s really just porn without much plot 😬

Pairing: Aemond x fem!reader

Warnings: slight dub-con because Aemond does a little convincing, fingering, breeding kink, “just the tip”, p in v, surprise creampie

Part One

“Aemond… Aemond you must leave before someone catches us,” you whined from beneath your betrothed.

“Everyone is asleep, my love. No one will catch us,” he reassured you.

His hands continued to roam your body underneath your night dress. This was not the first time you had found yourself in this predicament with Aemond since you alerted him to your engagement. It was as if he had gone feral knowing you were to be solely his. You both pushed your limits without completely tarnishing your virtue.

“You must return to your chambers and we can continue this tomorrow once we are man and wife,” you sighed, his teeth grazing the pulse in your throat.

“I’ve told you time and time again, you already are my wife in my mind,” he chuckled.

His hips were grinding against yours and your resolve was crumbling.

“Aem…I need…”

“What, my love? Tell me what you need,” he said, his hand already inching toward your center.

“Do not tease,” you cried.

“I told you, you have no idea what teasing is,” he chuckled darkly.

“Touch me, love. I need you to touch me here,” you said as you took his hand and guided it over your bare cunt.

“I could just wait until tomorrow,” he said, grazing his fingers over your slick folds. “Surely, if I must wait then so should you.”

You tried to move your hips to get more friction but he wouldn’t allow it. He just smirked at you as you struggled.

“Perhaps…perhaps we can do a little more. Just a bit!” You hurried.

“Is that so?”

“I want to feel you, my love.”

“Feel me how?” He asked, trying his best not to ravage you completely.

“If you’re going to tease me, tease me with your cock.”

Aemond was taken back by your bold words, but he quickly released himself from his pants. He slid his cock between your folds, sending a jolt through your body every time he slid over your clit.

“I cannot wait to worship your body properly every night,” he grunted. “You will make such a sweet little wife for me. I will fill you time and time again until you are full with my heir.”

“Please,” you whimpered quietly.

“Do you like that? You want me to fill you with my seed until you swell with our child?” His eye widened as you nodded and it took all his resolve not to sink his cock into you.

“I need more,” you whined.

His pace quickened and the head of his cock caught on your entrance with each pass. It would be so easy to just…

He sunk the head between your folds, barely breaking past your barrier. You let out a gasp and bucked your hips.

“Aemond…we can’t! Not yet,” you sighed.

“You feel so warm around me, my love. I can tell you were made for me by the gods,” he grunted. His fingers found your clit and rubbed circles, sending sparks flying throughout your body.

“I’m so close!” You warned. Your walls began to flutter around him as your orgasm washed over you. Aemond lost all resolve when he felt you come undone around him and plunged himself into you completely, his seed flooding your depths as your name fell from his lips.

“I could not help myself,” he said as he stilled inside you.

“We will pray for forgiveness,” you said as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“If that is the case, I suppose we should sin some more to make it worth it,” he chuckled. He pulled out of you slightly before fucking his seed back into you.

“Aemond!” You squealed, your walls too sensitive from your first orgasm.

“I plan on keeping you full of me until we are wed in the morrow,” he said.

Aemond was a man true to his word, fucking you over and over until the sun broke the horizon and he snuck from your chambers back to his own.

The two of you were wed before the day was over, happily in front of your families and the kingdom. Aemond couldn’t help but smirk as he watched the way your steps wobbled as you walked down the aisle.

He had prayed for forgiveness before the ceremony, as did you, and he could not wait to finally take you as his wife and no longer have reason to ask for forgiveness as he ravaged your body night after night.

#Aemond x reader smut #Aemond x reader #Aemond Targaryen smut #Aemond Targaryen #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell smut

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hees-mine · 1 year

Text

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟐 𝐛𝐨𝐱𝐞𝐫! - 𝐋.𝐡𝐬

𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 ⚥ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: smut, unprotected sex, angst kinda? cursing.

"Baby, let's go. You've been here for hours," you say to your boyfriend, who's busy hitting the punching bag like his life depended on it. Your words fall on deaf ears as he continues training like the gym wouldn't be open tomorrow. "Babe!" You shout, and he finally whips his head around at the sound of your booming voice echoing in the gym.

"Hmm?" He holds the bag, still looking at you with wide eyes as you shake your head.

"I said let's go." you walk closer to him as he does a few light jabs at the bag.

"It's okay, baby, you can leave first. I'll meet you home in a few." you roll your eyes as he practically ignores you. He asked you to come and watch him so he could show you his new moves, and that was fine until you were there watching him for the next two hours after you had already been watching him for two hours prior.

You were hungry and tired from working out with him, and you just wanted your boyfriend's attention cause he's been caught up in the stupid gym for the last couple of months, leaving you to sit at the house and wait for him to get back. "Fine," you mumbled and popped your mouth while grabbing your gym bag and getting ready to leave.

He eyes your dejected figure as you start to leave without giving him his kiss or even saying bye. "Baby?" He calls you softly but you just keep walking. Whatever he wanted to say, it could wait till he got home. "Darling, wait," he sighs and takes off his gloves, lightly jogging over to you. "Hey," he places his hands on your waist, turning you to face him. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing." you shake his hand off, trying to walk away again.

"Something's wrong cause you didn't kiss me before you left," he pouts.

"Maybe I just don't want to kiss you." you fold your arms, trying your best to look angry and annoyed.

Before his heart dropped from your words, he quickly realized that you were just being moody again cause he was staying late at the gym. "I know that's a lie. You always wanna kiss me, baby, come here and give me some sugar." he drags you into his chest, pressing his lips on yours, and you feel so pathetic cause you were already melting into his touch when you were supposed to be mad at him for choosing the gym over you.

"Eww, unhand me. You're all wet and sweaty." he chuckled deeply and strengthened his hold on your waist so you couldn't run away.

"Stop playing games with me, darling. I know you like it when I'm all sweaty." he locks his arms behind your lower back, leaving you no choice but to fall into his sweat-covered chest as he leans down to whisper in your ear. "You like it when I get wet." You shudder in his hold, trying your best to hold in a whimper from his words, but you fail. You just pray he didn't hear it, but your prayers go unheard when you hear him laughing heartily and releasing his grip on you.

"Hee!" You slap his chest. "That's was not funny," you whine. "I want to leave the stupid gym."

He gasps, feigning offense for you down-talking his gym. "My gym is not stupid." he folds his arms.

"Yes, it is, and it's also keeping you away from me, so let's just go already." You grip his bicep, trying to pull him out of the gym, but he stays still.

"So that's what it is, hmm?" He smiles. "You don't think the gym is stupid. You just don't like me spending my time here."

"Hee, I don't mind you being here. It's just so often, and when I'm at home, I miss you," you mumble the last part, feeling kinda embarrassed to bring up the topic.

"Oh baby, I'm sorry. I know I get carried away sometimes." he rolls his eyes at himself. "More like I get carried away all the time," he pouts now that he's seeing things from your perspective. The whole reason he asked you to come to the gym with him was because he was missing you, but instead of staying at home and spending the day with you, he dragged you to satisfy his wants, not yours. "You know what? Let's go home, and I'll take you out for a date."

You can already feel yourself smiling. One thing you loved so much about him was how thoughtful he was. Sure, he didn't realize that he was leaving you home alone and missing his presence, but as you told him, he wanted to fix the small issue at hand.

"How does that sound, darling?" He rests his forehead on yours, smiling softly. "You forgive me?"

"Of course, hee." You go up on your toes to give him a quick kiss or what you thought was going to be quick until he hungrily latched his mouth onto yours and easily lifted you off the floor.

He groans on your lips, tongue sticking out, begging to go inside your mouth, and you moan at his eagerness, mouth automatically falling open and letting him inside.

He squeezes your hips after you wrap your legs around his waist. You tangle your hands in his hair, and he backs you up to the nearest wall, placing one of his hands beside your head as he explores your mouth and sticks his hand under your sports bra, fondling your breast.

Clinging onto him, you melt against his mouth, whimpering nonstop into the kiss as he pulls away, leaving you both breathless. "You must have really missed me."

"So bad, hee," you say, and he chuckles softly as he moves over to one of the empty gym mats, laying you down softly and taking his place between your legs.

"I miss you so bad, too."

"What are-"

"Shh baby, Shh," he kisses down your jaw, nipping at your exposed chest. "No one ever comes at this time," he reassured you, quickly leaning up to yank his tank top off, revealing every last inch of his reddish-hued chest.

You nod to yourself, driven by arousal. As you lean up, he slips his fingers inside the elastic band of your sports bra and lifts it over your head. He licks his lips, watching your tits jiggle the moment your back makes contact with the gym mat.

He swirls your nipple with his slippery hot tongue tracing over the perked-up nub.

"Heeseung," you moan, nothing but pure excitement flowing through your veins while he gives your other nipple the same amount of pleasure.

After a few minutes of toying with your nipples, he stands up, getting rid of his shorts and boxers, and even though you saw him naked more than a hundred times, the sight of his hard pulsating cock would never cease to amaze you.

Following suit, you strip off your workout shorts as he eagerly climbs over you, lining his dick up with your entrance. He pushes your knees to your chest tip, brushing over your wet hole until he lunges forward, burying himself completely in your tightness and warmth. "Fuckkkkk," he moans, eyes rolling back in his head as he savors the feeling of your wet cunt. Even though you both did it this morning, he still just couldn't get enough of you, and apparently, neither could you cause you took him inside with ease from how wet you were.

"Hee," you moan, taking his whole length as he bottoms out. You place your hands on the backs of your thighs, spreading yourself open and giving him space to press his chest against yours as he stroked deeply in your pussy.

"Can't get enough of you," he laughs into your hair pants, following soon after as he buries his face next to you. "Always so wet and tight for me," he nibbles on your ear, sighing in pleasure.

Your head falls back, arms going limp while you close your eyes, getting lost in his soft moans and deep grunts. "Mhhm hee, you're so d-deep." You feel as if the room is spinning when you feel him going balls deep with every stroke.

"mmmm, kiss me, baby," he whispers, and you catch a faint glance at his face. He looks so fucked out and exhausted. His upper chest was flushed pink, and there were endless beads of sweat dripping from the tips of his hair onto your body, but you didn't mind cause, like he said, you liked it when he was wet.

Smiling against his lips, you meet him halfway, kissing him fervently like you hadn't made out in bed with him all morning long.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he cradled you impossibly close to his chest, and every time he moved his waist, he was massaging your clit, getting you closer and closer to the point of no return.

"I'm so close, darling, so close," he mutters, looking down at you with blown pupils and nothing but adoration in his eyes.

You're so lost in his eyes that you can't even warn him of your impending high, but he's been with you enough times to tell the very first tight clench around his base is just the beginning of the nerve-racking bliss you were both about to feel. "Let it all out, darling." he stroked the side of your cheek with his thumb.

"Hee," your eyes roll back, and just the look of your pleasured face alone made him spill the first drop of cum in your tight clenching walls.

"Darling," the pet name hangs in the air as he cums deep inside you, your walls squeezing out every drop of his cum until he's completely emptied out inside, and you're both satisfied.

Heavy breaths fill up the gym, followed by elated giggles as he peppers you with kisses. "God, I love you so much," he says cutely.

"I love you too, hee," he smiles, laying back on top of you, completely worn out from boxing and now his steamy session with you.

"I'm so tired," he mumbled into your chest.

"let's go home and shower, then we can sleep," he makes sounds of disapproval right away.

Shaking his head back and forth. "Nope, nope, nope, it's far too early, and I gotta take my pretty girl on a date." he holds your hand up to his mouth to kiss the back of it softly, making you feel butterflies like it was your first time with him all over again. "But can we please take a shower in the gym?"

"Why?" He shifts his eyes suspiciously, staying silent for a few moments.

"Cause it'll be easier to clean up after round two," he winks at you before you can say anything. He's picking you up, and you're slapping his chest while giggling.

Looks like you're both having round two in the shower then, but you weren't surprised cause your boyfriend was never done after one round in the ring or in the bedroom.

Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback.

#heeseung smut #enhypen smut #enhypen heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung #enhypen #heeseung #lee heeseung #enhypen scenarios #enhypen hyung line

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steddieas-shegoes · 5 days

Text

try again later

for @steddiesmuttyseptember prompts slap, loud, breeding kink, vibrator

rated e | 18+, minors dni | 2814 words | check ao3 for all tags

🤚🏻🤚🏻🤚🏻🤚🏻🤚🏻🤚🏻🤚🏻🤚🏻🤚🏻🤚🏻🤚🏻🤚🏻🤚🏻🤚🏻🤚🏻

Steve’s heart races as he climbs the stairs to his room. He promised Eddie he would wait for him to get back from Indy tomorrow to do this, but he’s been thinking about it all day. Nonstop.

And Robin made him go home to “deal with his problem” even though he was scheduled to close.

His problem being that he’s been hard for the last three hours.

It’s Eddie’s fault, really. He’s the one that bought the vibrator, left it on Steve’s bed, and then fucked off to do band things in Indy for four days.

The first two days, Steve ignored it. It was easy to do because he was still unsure how he felt about using it at all. Eddie assured him he’d love it, and Eddie was usually right about the things he likes, but a part of Steve thought that maybe this was too far.

Until this morning, when he unboxed it out of curiosity, and he found that it had five settings. And that it had a heat feature. And that it would work as a plug, too.

He shoved it back in the box and stared at his ceiling for two hours before he got up and got ready for work.

He was useless at work all day, both Keith and Robin were completely done with him.

Steve sits on his bed and thinks about this.

He could just try it out on the lowest setting and see how it works. He’ll wash it really good and then box it back up so Eddie doesn’t know. He knows Eddie won’t waste any time when he’s back; He’s just as impatient as Steve is.

But he doesn’t want to lie to Eddie, and even more than that, he doesn’t want to break Eddie’s rule.

He kinda wants to, though. A little bit.

He’s usually so good. Always does what Eddie wants, tries to be a good boy for him.

And in return, Eddie tells him he’s good, and gives him what he wants, and makes him feel like he’s flying.

He thinks breaking this one rule might be worth it.

So he unboxes the vibrator again and he makes sure it has the batteries it was supposed to come with in it and he reads the manual slowly so he understands the buttons. If he’s doing this to himself, he needs to be able to feel which button is which.

“Just the lowest setting,” he says to himself as he strips all of his clothes off. “Just to see.”

It’s thicker than he expected, so he opens himself up on two fingers before he even tries to slip it inside.

When he does, he knows he’s in trouble.

“Fuck,” Steve whines, biting his lip as he tries to find the perfect spot for it to fit snugly against his prostate.

It’s not even on yet and he thinks he’s going to come.

Once it’s settled inside, he lets his arms fall against the bed, his breaths heavy as he tries to calm down. He shouldn’t be doing this. He should’ve waited for Eddie.

He reaches down to press the button on the tip of the plug, the one that turns it on.

The moment he does, he gasps and lets out a loud moan.

The vibrations are borderline too much, even in the first few seconds. It’s a dull thrum, but it fills him, and feels like it’s making his heart beat faster and his hands shake.

He’s leaking, probably has been for a while, but it’s so much more than he usually does. Eddie likes to lick it up and spit it into his mouth, make him clean up his own mess.

Just the thought of Eddie doing that now, while turning up the setting on the plug, has Steve gripping the base of his cock to avoid finishing so soon. He circles his hole with one fingertip, clenching around the plug as he bumps up the setting by one.

His back arches without his permission, and tears spring to his eyes as his release shoots across his stomach. It’s heaven and hell, feeling so much while not having Eddie here to kiss him, and play with his hair, and wipe him down.

He goes from feeling better than ever to feeling short bursts of pain with pleasure, the overstimulation of the vibrations still happening almost too much. He manages to turn the vibrator off with shaking hands, but he doesn’t remove it.

“Fuck me,” he laughs as he tries to settle down enough to remove it.

He closes his eyes and sighs out.

The last thought he has before falling asleep is that he didn’t even get to actually touch his dick.

****

He wakes to a hand on his dick.

He’d panic more if he wasn’t familiar with the hand on his dick.

“Fuck, Eddie,” he moans, thankful that they have their own home, that no one ever has to hear the way he screams under Eddie’s touch. “What’re you doing home?”

“Apparently disciplining you,” he replies, voice cool, smug smile in place.

The room is dark, but Steve can see enough of him to know he’s figured out that Steve didn’t listen to his instructions. The hand on his dick is rough, no spit to glide the way. Steve winces at the drag as he speeds up.

“Come on, baby,” Eddie nips his neck. “You wanted to come so bad you couldn’t wait for me. Now I’m here. Let’s see it.”

Steve whimpers. It hurts, but it’s so good. The weight of the plug filling him up just adds to it as is whole body is jostled with Eddie’s firm movements.

“Can’t.” Steve takes a breath. “Hurts.”

“Awww, you should’ve thought about that before trying my new toy without me.”

And it’s the way he says it, my toy in that tone that makes Steve think he isn’t just talking about the vibrator. Like maybe Steve is his toy.

Steve’s gonna come. He’s certain of it.

Any moment now.

He feels his thighs tense.

Eddie’s hand is gone.

“No!” Steve cries. “Please. I’m so close. Please.”

“I don’t care if you’re close, sweetheart,” his words sting as he pulls away and stares down at where the plug is hidden inside Steve. “What happened to my good boy, huh? I leave you alone for a few days and you decide to misbehave?”

Steve can’t even find words to explain himself. Eddie’s hand is back on him, but this time his fingers are pinching his nipples, twisting just enough for it to bite.

They’re gone as fast as they came and Steve’s gasping for breath, arching up into the touch while wishing Eddie would lick them to ease the burn. He’s a mess of feeling right now and it’s his own fault.

Eddie’s palm makes contact with Steve’s cheek.

It’s hot, fire against his skin. The pain of the slap barely registers as he feels his own release against his stomach.

“Would you look at that?” Eddie hums. “Who knew being so rough with you would make such a mess.”

Steve feels a tear fall from the corner of his eye, but he’s too busy coming down from his high to wipe it away.

Eddie does it for him.

It’s gentle, soft, the opposite of the slap that caused it.

“I’m gonna turn this on now,” Eddie taps the base of the plug, sending shockwaves through Steve’s nerves. “And you’re gonna get to have every setting. Or did you already do every setting?”

“No, sir,” Steve whispers, voice broken. “Just two.”

Eddie nods. “Then I think I’ll have to get two more out of you before we can stop.”

Steve whines. He’s already sore. His cock is trying to get hard again, and he can feel every shift of the plug inside him. He doesn’t even think he could have two more orgasms if Eddie turned the vibrator on the highest setting.

He thinks he might pass out.

“Color?” Eddie asks.

It doesn’t quite break the moment, but it does make Steve focus on his face.

He looks concerned, but he also looks like he’s in awe. He always kind of looks at Steve like that, like he’s amazing him just by existing, just by the noises he makes and the curve of his body.

“Green.”

Eddie kisses the corner of his mouth before he slaps his other cheek.

Steve groans and turns his face away reflexively, but Eddie grabs his jaw and makes him turn to look up at him.

“I wanna see those cheeks get red, baby. Makes your eyes so bright when you cry,” Eddie slaps him again, but Steve’s starting to feel numb. “Just like that. You know why I wanted you to wait for me?”

Steve shook his head.

“Because I know how to make everything good for you. You didn’t even tease yourself a little, did you?” Eddie clicks his tongue against his teeth. “How am I supposed to knock you up if you try to do everything yourself?”

Steve’s cock pulses between them.

“Please. Please, sir.”

“Please, please sir,” Eddie mocks him, leaning down to grip his jaw tight. “Please what?”

“Please fuck me,” Steve tries to say with his mouth forced open.

“Oh, I’m gonna. But what else?” Eddie moves his hand down to Steve’s throat, resting there as a threat, the kind that makes Steve’s eyes roll back in his head. “What did you beg me to do to you on the phone the other night?”

“Wanna be full of you,” Steve continues, trying to focus on what Eddie’s asking.

“Yeah, gonna fill you up so good. Gotta make sure it takes, right?”

Steve nods. “Wanna have your baby.”

Eddie grins down at him as he turns the vibrator on.

He bumps it up to two immediately and Steve thinks this is a different two than the one he had on before he fell asleep. It’s sharp and too much immediately, making him squirm under Eddie’s weight. But Eddie doesn’t allow it, which just adds to the jolts of electricity going through his body.

“I’ll give you one, sweetheart. But first, you gotta be my good boy.”

Steve can do that. He can do whatever Eddie needs him to.

Eddie bumps the setting up again and it’s almost unbearable. How does anyone handle the highest setting?

Oh. Oh. It’s warm.

It feels like…

“Gonna come,” Steve warns. “Feels too good.”

“Then come, baby.”

Steve nearly screams through his orgasm and Eddie doesn’t try to quiet him. He laughs as Steve shivers from aftershocks.

He turns it up again and Steve may black out for a second. He squeezes his eyes shut and grits his teeth together and his dick stays hard.

“Too much, too much.”

“It wouldn’t be if you hadn’t started without me.”

It’s probably true, but Steve’s already feeling pretty far gone.

“One more, baby boy. Think you can give me another one?”

Steve nods because he can, he knows he can. He wasn’t sure before, but Eddie’s tone makes him believe he’s capable of anything.

If Eddie tells him to come, he will. If Eddie tells him to suck him while he fucks his mouth, he’ll happily do it.

“Look at you, so sweet. You’re so beautiful when you let me take care of you. Can’t believe you thought you could do this all for yourself,” Eddie wraps his hand around Steve’s cock, barely moving it. Steve curls up and towards Eddie with the touch, whimpering at the firey pleasure piercing his stomach. “You’re mine, Stevie. My hands are the only ones who can make you feel this good, my mouth, my cock, my toy.”

Steve’s chest is heaving as Eddie turns the vibrator up to the highest setting.

Words aren’t happening anymore.

Steve thinks he comes, but he can’t be sure.

He’s tingly and weightless, and he thinks if Eddie gets off of him, he’ll fly away.

The plug is gone and Steve whines at the loss. He tries to shove his own fingers inside himself, wants to keep feeling full, but Eddie slaps his wrist.

“That’s mine. Hands up.”

Steve listens because he decided being good is probably better for getting what he wants. Plus, Eddie’s fingers are inside him, four of them he thinks. It burns a little, but it’s not something Steve can complain about past the noises he’s making.

He wouldn’t anyways, not when he knows what he’s getting next.

Eddie slaps his cock.

Maybe he didn’t know what he was getting. He yelps, his eyes shoot open, and he stares at Eddie in shock.

He’s still hard, but it hurts.

“Color?” Eddie asks again, because this is new, and he always asks when he does something new. Even if they’ve talked about it, even if Steve assured him he would say red if he didn’t like it.

The pain was already gone, replaced with an overwhelming need to come. Eddie’s fingers were pressing against his prostate, making him forget about the slap entirely.

“Green, sir, again.”

“Good boy,” Eddie grins as he slaps his cock again, harder. “You like being slapped around? Like when I make you red all over? Look at your dick, baby.”

Steve does. It’s an angry red, almost purple, and he still has cum leaking from the tip. It twitches against his stomach when Eddie grabs it and rubs his thumb across the soaked slit.

Steve is panting, sure that there’s no way he could handle more.

“Gonna give you what you want now.”

Eddie’s cock is pretty average in length, but it’s thick, and he got it pierced a while back. It drives Steve absolutely crazy.

But four fingers stretched him out enough that Eddie’s cock entering him is just a dull ache.

“There you go, baby. That feel good? You feel full now?” Eddie asks as he lets more of his weight fall on top of Steve. Steve is by far the heavier of the two, but he loves when Eddie surrounds him like this.

But he doesn’t feel full yet. He shakes his head.

“No? What else do you need?” Eddie knows exactly what he needs, and he knows Steve is so far gone that talking is damn near impossible at this point. “You need to suck something? My fingers maybe?”

Steve shakes his head. Maybe next time.

“Need your cum.”

Eddie groans as he starts fucking into Steve faster, making the bedframe hit the wall behind them. They really need to look into getting something to dull the noise. They’ll never be able to do anything when they have guests over at this rate.

“That’s all you need, sweet boy? Just need me to fill you up, put the plug in, make sure nothing leaks out so you can give me a baby?” Eddie is breathless now, stomach and arms tense as he holds himself at the perfect angle to hit the oversensitive bundle of nerves inside Steve.

“Mhm, gonna-” Steve moans. “Gonna give you a baby. All the babies. Ten babies.”

Steve feels Eddie’s warm breath against his neck.

“Ten’s a lot, sweetheart,” he laughs against his neck before placing a gentle kiss over his moles. “You gonna come for me again?”

Steve nods, but he isn’t sure he can. He can barely even feel his cock anymore, so he’s not sure he’s got anything left in the tank.

Eddie moans against his jaw, hips stuttering to a much slower rhythm as he comes. Steve feels the warmth inside him, can already feel it dripping out. He whines at the loss.

“I know, baby,” Eddie wipes at a stray tear as he pulls back, but not out. “Come for me. Let me feel you.”

Steve thinks he comes. He’s pretty sure he passes out, too.

When his eyes open again, Eddie’s holding him, playing with his hair and humming softly. He’s still sweaty, but he doesn’t have any cum dried on him. The plug is snug inside him, holding as much of Eddie inside as possible.

“With me, Stevie?” Eddie whispers. It’s the quietest moment they’ve shared since he woke up to Eddie in bed with him.

“Kinda.”

Eddie’s hand brushes up and down his back, fingers poking gently into his spine.

“Can’t believe you didn’t wait for me.”

“Was nervous,” Steve yawns.

“Is it okay?” Eddie asks.

Steve nods against his chest. “Really okay.”

“You’re gonna be sore later.”

“‘S okay. Feel full.”

“We gonna talk about the ten babies thing?” Eddie asks, not judging, never judging, just curious.

“Gonna give you ten babies. ‘S what I said,” Steve is too tired to stay awake.

“Might be difficult with our current anatomy, but we can give it an honest try,” Eddie is laughing softly as he talks.

“Try again later,” Steve barely mumbles out before he drifts back to sleep.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie smutty september #steddie events

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lvis44 · 2 months

Text

Sweet Escape - Wedding Pt.1 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Language, Alcohol Consumption, its really just a whole lot of fluff

Word Count: 1.7k+

Summary: Paradise is supposed to be fun and relaxing... a Sweet Escape, but when unspoken feelings and jealousy rise to the surface, everything can be turned upside down in the blink of an eye.

Notes: The beginning of the long awaited wedding! I have decided I will be releasing this in chunks, I cannot guarantee when each one will be coming but it will all be in the universe soon enough. I love you all and appreciate those of you have been kind and patient, I'm still here y'all I promise. Once again I cannot follow the same tense while writing and this has not been fully edited.

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

Previous Sections: Prologue - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Epilogue

What if I come and stay until 11:55?” His voice is whiny and desperate, making you laugh.

“Lewis, you have to go before Charlotte and Miles come and drag you.” You tell your pouting fiancé, still laughing at him.

You’re standing outside the fancy restaurant rented for your rehearsal dinner, snow falling around you as people start to clear out. Lewis had been attached to your hip for the last few days, his adoration for you only growing as you two approached your wedding day, The day that you had perfectly planned together.

“Wanna sleep next to you though.” Lewis says quietly, a cheeky smirk on his face as he pulls you against him, his hand traveling down to your bum.

“Lew! My parents are right there.” You whisper shout, grabbing his forearm to move it up to your lower back.

He just laughed, shaking his head before pressing himself against you even firmer, “Seriously, can we stay together just a little while longer? Promise I’ll leave before midnight.”

You could tell his intentions weren’t to sleep and you knew you would be hard pressed to kick him out later in the evening. You’re not a particularly traditional person but you were holding to sleeping apart the night before the wedding, much to his dismay. His mother had been the one to bring it up during wedding planning and while Lewis thought it was a horrible concept you were more than happy to go along, it made her happy and it made everything feel even more real. Two suites had been rented for the night at different hotels, mostly to keep Lewis from sneaking into your bed in the middle of the night.

“Bruv, if you don’t let go of her and come get in the damn car, I will remove you myself.” Miles’ voice boomed from behind you, saving you from having to turn your fiancé down yet again.

You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing Miles and Charlotte were tightly wound, the stress getting to them both as if it was their own wedding. You could see that Lewis was finally accepting defeat, rolling his eyes but nodding to Miles, motioning that he would be there in a second.

“It’s fucking crazy that the next time I see you will be at the altar.” Lewis whispers, looking giddy yet anxious.

“Gonna be Mrs. Hamilton tomorrow!” Your voice was quiet as you tried to hold back your squeal of excitement.

You were beyond elated to be marrying your best friend. When he proposed he had made it very clear that you could be engaged as long as you wanted, that nothing needed to be rushed. Only two years later you were here, ready to marry the love of your life in less than twenty four hours.

“Son, I think Miles is going to explode if we don’t all get going.” You hear Anthony laugh from nearby, evidently amused by the frantic state that Miles was in.

“Okay, okay.” Lewis just laughs, glancing at Miles who was now pacing outside of the black town car.

“I love you, get some sleep, need you in tip top shape tomorrow.” You say to Lewis, leaning up to place a family friendly kiss to his lips as you pat his chest

“Yes ma’am, I love you too.” Lewis mumbles against your lips.

Lewis stares at you for a moment, love pouring out of his dark brown eyes before squeezing your waist once more and walking off toward Miles who looks about ready to shove Lewis into the trunk if it means they’ll leave any quicker. Having said your goodbyes to everyone earlier, you make your way over toward Charlotte where she’s waiting by your own matching town car.

“You look much calmer than Miles was.” You laugh as she makes a ridiculous display of opening the door for you.

“Well thankfully I’m in charge of the much easier spouse,” She giggles, following you into the car, “I knew you’d stick to your guns and send him on his way. Miles on the other hand has about ten different plans of ways to just about lock Lewis in his room, pretty sure a straight jacket is on the table.”

You can’t help but laugh, knowing Lewis will more than likely continue to complain throughout the night. You would be lying if you said you truly didn’t want to be next to him for the night, you always sleep better in his arms, but you know one night away from each other won’t kill either of you, you’ve done it countless times before. It’s been rather adorable to you how clingy Lewis had gotten over the past few weeks, it was rather unlike him but you weren’t going to fight it. You know it’s something he does sometimes when he needs to ground himself, and right now his emotions are at an all time high. There had been a few snafus with decorations and such in the weeks leading up to now, each one seemed to wind him that much tighter, the perfectionist in him struggling.

When you arrived in the suite you were exhausted and ready for your pajamas but knew there was no way you were ready to go to sleep just yet. Your mom was waiting for you in the suite when you arrived, already opening a bottle of wine and urging you and Charlotte to come sit with her, a much needed moment of decompression. You’ve been busy all day; last minute preparations, the wedding rehearsal, the rehearsal dinner with all of both of your families. You were drained yet still so full of adrenaline. Being around Lewis all day had helped immensely, always so in tune with each others moods and needs, more than once he had rescued you from a conversation that felt like it had just gone on too long. It also helped that he was bubbling with excitement and energy, even after so long you frequently questioned where he got it, the level rarely faltering.

It wasn’t long before Charlotte was excusing herself to go get ready for bed, leaving you alone with your mom.

“This is all still so crazy to me.” Your moms voice is quiet and kind.

“Which part?” You laugh, taking a sip of your wine.

“All of it!” You mom says, gesturing into the air, “The fact that my baby is getting married, that her wedding is in a castle, that she’s marrying a man that we watched and admired racing for years, the fact that he’s the love of her life, just all of it.”

You couldn’t help but smile at your moms little rant, because it was true, so much of it felt surreal but everything was perfect.

“I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world.” You tell her softly, sincerely, taking a moment to think back on everything that has happened over the last three years.

Growing up, Sundays were reserved for F1, you and your mom massive Hamilton fans from the very beginning of his career. When you had told her that you had met him she freaked out nearly as much as you originally had, fangirling in a way you had never thought possible. Your dad thought it was impressive too, making a comment about you never leaving the city to come home and visit them now that you were hanging out with celebrities. When you told your parents that you were dating, your mom was incredibly happy for you but never let her admiration of Lewis get in the way of her daughter's well being, she made sure to check in with you frequently, always worried that his distance and status may be taking a toll on you. Your father on the other hand was less than pleased when he first learned about your relationship, preconceived notions about Lewis’ personal life and persona taking over, less than pleased with the age difference between the two of you. It took a while, but Lewis was able to win him over and you’ve never been more grateful for anything, you were desperate for all the people you loved to get along.

Now you had a fiancé who spoke with your father without you needing to be around, a mother who had befriended Lewis’ mother and stepmother and adored him, and were mere hours away from becoming his wife. Life truly does come at you fast.

“You’re ready?” Your mom asked, breaking the silence that had settled in the room.

“I truly don’t think I’ve ever been so ready for something. I’m nervous of course but there’s no one else that I would rather be with for the rest of my life. I’m sure of that.” Your voice was confident as you spoke, meaning every word.

“I’m so glad you found someone so good for you hun, he truly is a dream. Hell, I wish I had met someone like him when I was your age,” Your mom laughed, sending you a wink, “don’t tell your dad I said that.”

“Secrets safe with me,” You giggled back, “but I don’t think there’s another one of him.”

“Not that I’ve ever seen.” Your mom shrugged, the soft smile never leaving her face.

You can’t help but giggle at the conversation you're having with your mother. You’ve never been one to be sappy but the emotions boiling inside of you leading up to your big day are sending you over the edge, truly letting all the cliche thoughts you have about Lewis come to the forefront.

“You, my dear, need to get to bed. You have a long day ahead of you and need to be well rested for your night.” Your mom winked making you groan through a laugh.

“Mom!” You buried your head in your hands.

You and your mom have always been open with each other about every aspect of your life but you didn’t need to hear her joke about you consummating your marriage.

“But truly, you should try to get some sleep.” She laughed at your embarrassment, trying and failing to come off seriously.

“You’re right, I’ll try.” You say, rolling your eyes as you finish off the last of the wine in your glass

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