#when i worked at the pool last summer this would happen all the time too like a kid would take too long deciding what they wanted from the

[francisforever2014]

it should be legal to murder parents who yell at their kids in public

[fallinforgyu]

steamroller

pairing: mingi/fem!reader

genre: childhood best friends to lovers, college au, angst, smut - minors do NOT interact

warnings: no dom/sub dynamic, unrequited love, mutual loss of virginity, mingi has a massive cock, fingering, oral sex (f. recieving)

word count: 10k

a/n: i want to be honest with you guys, this is not a comeback. this is just a little fic that i’ve been working on for the past year or so that has brought me a lot of comfort, and i hope that it can do the same for you. i’m not sure if i’ll ever be active on this blog like i used to be, but please know that i will always be a writer and i will always read every single comment, reblog, and note that is sent to me. thank you for being my readers. i love you all so so dearly <3

“Hey, Mingi,” Yunho asked, staring at his distorted reflection in the back of a flimsy dining hall spoon, “Have you ever eaten a girl out before?”

 “W-What the fuck?” Mingi choked on his homemade sandwich. “Why would you ask me that?”

 “Because I want to go down on my girl on our next date…” he dropped the spoon on his tray, frowning as it clanged. “We’ve already fucked but I think it’ll be a nice way to show her I really care, you know? But I’ve never done it before.”

 “Wait-” Mingi dropped his voice to a whisper, leaning forward across the table. “You’ve had sex before?” 

 “You haven’t?” Yunho grinned.

 “Of course I haven’t, asshole! Why didn’t you tell me?”

 Yunho shrugged. “Guess I just didn’t think it was that important. What time’s your next class?” 

 “I’m done with classes for the day,” Mingi crumbled the tin foil that previously held his sandwich into a ball. “Yours is at 2:30, right?” 

 The older boy nodded and the two stood up, making their way to the nearest trash can.

 “Besides,” Yunho placed his tray on top of a growing stack of them while Mingi threw away his brown paper bag. “I thought you would’ve already fucked that girl you’re always with by now. What was her name again?”

 Mingi’s eyes widened as your name slipped past Yunho’s lips. “Sh!” he hissed, looking over his shoulder. “I told you to stop asking about her. She doesn’t like me like that.”

 “But you haven’t even tried!”

 “Yes, I have!”

 “Giving her a warm Tootsie Roll that had been sitting in your pocket all day does not count as trying.”

 “But I gave it to her on Valentine’s Day!” Mingi whined. “That counts for something, right?”

 He reluctantly met Yunho’s eyes, groaning when he saw his friend’s lips pressed into a thin line and his head shaking. 

 “You’ve gotta just tell her, dude. You’re never gonna know if you don’t try.” 

 He knew Yunho was right. If he ever wanted anything to change, he’d have to talk to you. Otherwise, he’d spend his entire life wondering what would’ve happened if he would’ve just had the balls to tell you. 

 He’d do it today, he decided, when he met you at your usual spot to walk back to your dorms together. That way, he could just run home if you said you didn’t feel the same way! Perfect plan. 

Mingi wiped his hands on his pants as he walked to your usual meeting spot, attempting to calm himself down and hype himself up at the same time. 

 He was really going to do it now; he was going to spill his heart out and hope that you somehow ended up in his arms. He’d start with how he’d loved you since you were kids when you took swim lessons with him at the community pool. You jumped right in the water when he was too afraid to duck his head underneath, and he remembered wanting to be brave like you. He loved you in middle school when you noticed him struggling with his math homework and offered to help. He loved you when you introduced him to Yunho, your friend from the student council who would end up becoming his best friend. And he loved you two years later, when he read your summer reading book aloud to you because staring at the pages made you sleepy. 

 He loved you last year when you went to prom together, even when you made a point of announcing to the rest of your group that the two of you were “Just really good friends.”

 Oh, well. He loved you when he gave you that Tootsie Roll three months ago, too.

 And he loved you now, when he approached you slowly and timidly, waving his hand to get you to look up from your phone.

 “Oh, hi,” you grinned, pulling the earbuds out of your ears.

 “Hi,” he smiled. 

 “How was… how was your day?” You asked the same question you always asked when you saw him, but it sounded different this time. It was like an exhale; Like you were breathing the words instead of speaking them. If he didn’t know better, he would’ve thought you were nervous. 

 “Good,” he nodded, gripping the straps of his backpack.

 “Good!” You repeated, clasping your hands together. “So…”

 He braced himself to say it. I’m in love with you. I have been ever since we were kids. I don’t want to be your friend, I want to kiss you.

 But you spoke first, and you said, “I think we should have sex.”

 He thought that he was having a stroke. He thought that you were having a stroke. “W-what did you say?”

 “Hear me out,” you waved your hands and closed your eyes. “We’re the last virgins in our friend group, right? And everyone thinks we’ve already fucked, anyway. So we could just do it together and get it over with so that it’s not as big of a deal when we do it with other people!”

 “I don’t…” His face felt like it was on fire. His stomach burned, and his palms were even sweatier than before. Get it over with?

 You sighed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dumped that on you so fast. I’ve just been thinking about it for a few weeks now, and…”

 Your voice turned into a murmur in the back of his mind as he analyzed your words. Been thinking about it for weeks now? Thinking about…

 “But you don’t have to decide now, okay? I just wanted to see if you would be up for it.”

 He slowly blinked and nodded back like an idiot. “O-okay. Yeah, I’ll think about it.”

 You nudged his shoulder with yours as you stood up to walk home with him, down the streets of the campus that had been home to you for the past nine months. “And there’s no pressure, alright? You can say I’m gross and you see me like a sister and I won’t be mad,” you laughed.

 You’re beautiful. I want you to be my girlfriend.

 “I’ll think about it,” he repeated.

 “Cool,” you nodded. “How’d that stats test go?”

You felt sick when you tried to go to sleep that night, nauseated with the thought that you might’ve just ruined everything. 

 You didn’t mean for it to come out so fast. You didn’t mean to make him embarrassed. You only meant to present the idea to him; a sort of business proposal that would benefit the both of you before you went back home for the summer.

 None of your friends were virgins anymore. Only you and Mingi were left, and you’d known each other the longest, anyway. 

 You turned in bed to stare at the pictures of the two of you taped to the collage on your wall. He stood next to you in a cheap rental tuxedo at prom, his mouth pulled into a gummy smile and his arm linked with yours. In another picture, he stood three inches away from you at your middle school graduation, a reminder of the awkward phase the two of you went through when you realized that he was a boy and you were a girl. 

 But there were pictures from before that time, too, like the one of the two of you covered in nasty, artificially-colored green frosting from the cake at Mingi’s Incredible Hulk-themed birthday party in 2005. Or the two of you dressed up as Cosmo and Wanda from Fairly Odd Parents for Halloween in fourth grade. 

 Your oldest friend. The person who’d seen you through every phase of your life – even your emo phase in seventh grade – and stuck by you nonetheless. 

 You thought of his full lips and his broad shoulders, his big hands. He was handsome, there was absolutely no arguing that, but he was also kind and gentle and sweet. He was always the first to notice when something was wrong and the last to believe you when you told him you were fine. 

 Being his lover would be amazing, but not if it meant you couldn’t be his friend anymore. You wouldn’t fall unless he asked you to because losing him wasn’t an option.

 You’d tell him tomorrow to forget it. That it was stupid, and you changed your mind. 

Mingi told Yunho about it at lunch the next day. 

 “She talked to me yesterday,” he mumbled, picking the peel off of a clementine.

 “And? What’d she say?” Yunho leaned forward, anticipating Mingi’s answer.

 “She wants to fuck me.”

 Yunho let out a laugh of disbelief. “Don’t play with me right now.”

 “She does! She said, and I quote, ‘I think we should have sex.’”

 “Well,” Yunho chuffed, “There you go, buddy! I told you all you had to do was talk to her!”

 Mingi knew he didn’t really talk to you. He knew he just listened (well, half-listened, half daydreamed about what losing his virginity to you would be like) while you gabbed on about how it was a win-win situation.

 But Yunho seemed so happy… No, proud of him. His validation made Mingi feel good – like this was the right decision.

 “So, when are you going to do it?” Yunho squeezed a gluttonous amount of ketchup on his dry chicken patty.

 Mingi stared at his Ziploc bag of slightly brown apple slices. “Well… I haven’t really told her I’d do it yet.” 

 “What? Why not?”

 “I just didn’t know if it was right…”

 “The girl that you’ve been in love with since you were a kid wants to give you her virginity and take yours at the same time, and you don’t know if it’s right?”

 Mingi smiled. “Yeah… I know.”

 “Tell her today. I bet you’ll do it before you go home for the summer if you tell her today.”

 “Okay, yeah.” Mingi nodded, feeling more sure of himself. “I’ll tell her today.”

You had headphones in when you waited for Mingi after school, but you weren’t listening to any music. There was already too much buzzing around in your head, and music would only overwhelm you even more.

 You chewed on your nailbeds and rehearsed your script in your head. Hey, I was way off base yesterday. That was weird and I shouldn’t have put you on the spot like that. Let’s just pretend it never happened and enjoy the summer, okay?

 You saw his sneakers first. They were clean, exactly how they looked when he bought them four months ago. 

 He was smiling when you looked up.

 “Let’s do it.”

 “Wait… really?” You tilted your head to the side, trying not to stare at his lips.

 “Yeah. You were right, it just makes sense for us to do it together.” His cheeks were pink.

 You slowly nodded, trying to convince yourself that it was a good idea again. “Right. Yeah… yeah, it makes sense.” You clapped your hands together. “Well! It’s settled then! Is Yunho leaving town anytime soon?”

 “I don’t… I don’t think so?” 

 You stood up to begin your walk home, and Mingi followed suit.

 “Well,” you sighed. “My roommates are probably home, but we should be fine if we’re quiet.”

 Mingi stumbled a bit as he walked. “Wait, we’re doing this right now? Like, literally right now?”

 “No!” you turned your head towards him as you spoke, but you didn’t look him in the eye. “But don’t you think we should do other stuff first? And like… work up to the big thing?”

 “Other stuff?”

 “Just to warm us up. You know, so it won’t be as scary when we…” You pictured Mingi naked and on top of you, his eyebrows furrowed and his pretty lips parted in a moan. You cleared your throat. “You know.”

 “O-okay,” he nodded. “Okay, yeah.”

 Mingi sat on your bed with his hands tucked underneath his thighs to hide how badly they were shaking. He looked around the room, jealous of your full-size bed. He and Yunho were in a shared room dorm, and his feet always hung off the end of his twin mattress. 

 Meanwhile, you scrolled through your phone to find a good playlist. You hit shuffle on the first one that suited your taste and a familiar song tumbled out of your cheap Bluetooth speaker.

 “You’ve kissed someone before, right?” You put your phone on your desk and walked to your bed.

 “Yes,” he nodded. 

 You narrowed your eyes at him. “Who?”

 He squirmed, adjusting his hands under his thighs. “My lab partner in ninth grade. She felt me up under the bleachers.” I was thinking about you the whole time, his internal monologue chimed in, the words never making it past his lips.

 “Gross,” you laughed, sitting on your bed. “Just let me lead, okay? Try to mirror what I do.”

 You reached up to hold his jaw, and his entire body stiffened.

 “Hey.” You waved your hand in front of his face. “Don’t be nervous, Ming. It’s just me. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want t–”

 “I want to!” He interrupted. “Please. I really want to. I’m just nervous.”

 You rested both your hands on his shoulders. “It’s just me,” you repeated. “The same me that I’ve always been.”

 Yeah, he thought, that’s the problem.

 “Just follow my lead.” You gave him an encouraging smile, which he weakly returned. “It’ll be fun, okay?”

 Mingi nodded, closed his eyes, and held his breath. A few seconds later, he felt your lips against his, and they were even softer than he imagined. He was sure that his were chapped, and he regretted not wearing lip balm more often like his mom always told him to.

 “See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

 He opened his eyes at the sound of your voice and gave you a tiny shake of his head.

 “Do you want another one?” You smiled. 

 “Yes, please,” he whispered.

 You kissed him again, a little bit longer this time. Your lips naturally slotted with his, and butterflies filled his tummy when you rested your hand on his thigh.

 And then your lips parted. He wasn’t sure what to do other than follow your lead like you’d told him to, so he let his lips part, as well.

 His breath caught in his throat when your hand slid down to his neck. He barely had time to recover before you slipped your tongue in his mouth, playful and teasing and light. 

 “O-oh,” he breathed, a shiver running through his body.

 “How was that?” 

 “Good. I liked… I liked the part when you used your tongue.”

 “Shut up,” you laughed. “You wanna… keep going?”

 “Yes,” he nodded.

 And that was how Mingi had his first makeout session with his childhood best friend. He tried to keep his whimpers to a minimum, but it was hard to when your kisses progressively got more heated. Your tongue in his mouth was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, and he blushed at your giggle when he tried to mirror your movements.

 “Such a fast learner, Ming.”

 “T-thanks…”

 “You know you can touch me, right? You don’t have to sit on your hands.”

 He looked down, completely unaware that his hands were still tucked underneath his thighs. They were both numb now, and they tingled when he pulled them up. He flexed and relaxed them to get his blood flowing again.

 “I’ve never…” he whispered, “I’m sorry. I don’t- I don’t know where to touch.”

 You gave him a smile laced with what might have been pity and took his big hand in yours, moving it to rest on your hip.

 “What about the other one?” He whispered, even quieter than before.

 And then you were lifting his other hand and placing it on your cheek. His breath caught in his throat again.

 It’s strange to truly look at someone whose face has always been a constant in your life. You looked different, but also the same. People change, but they don’t. 

 Mingi was sure of one thing: your face was the most beautiful he’d ever seen. He liked it ten years ago, and he liked it now.

 He kissed you first the next time. And since he’d gotten a little more confident, he let his lips part and used his tongue first, too. He kept his hands where you’d placed them and you kept yours around his neck. You kissed and kissed and kissed, and for now, that was enough.

It didn’t stay enough for long. You and Mingi practically ran to your dorm after school every day, barely taking time to breathe before attaching your mouths together once your door was shut. Your obsession with Mingi’s lips had only grown since you started spending most of your free time kissing them.

 His hands were nice, too. They’d gotten a little bit more curious since that day, sometimes giving your hip a gentle squeeze or moving up to your waist while he kissed you. Any noise you’d make would immediately be met with a “sorry” – a constant reminder that no matter how attractive the boy you were making out with was, he was still just the same old Mingi.

 And the little reactions he’d make were precious. He’d gasp when you touched his thighs, he’d hum when you stroked his neck, he’d whimper when you took his plump bottom lip between your teeth. The more you worked him up, the luckier you felt to have been the only person to have ever seen him like this. 

 You wondered how that could be while you sucked his lips. Plenty of girls had crushed on Mingi over the years. You knew because they’d always ask you if you were his girlfriend before they tried to confess to him. No matter how many times you told them you weren’t, he never ended up dating any of them.

 You detached from his lips with a smack. “Mingi?”

 “Mm?” He blinked, eyes slightly glazed over and lips swollen from kisses.

 “Why haven’t you had a girlfriend before?”

 His eyes widened for a split second, and he tried to cover it up by blinking a few times. “Uh… just never met the right person, I guess.”

 “But girls have been throwing themselves at you for years… You didn’t ever want to try anything with them?”

 “Guess I just wanted to wait for someone that I really…” he swallowed. “Trust.”

 That made sense. The thought of doing all of these things with a stranger was horrifying, but you felt safe with Mingi. You smiled, kissing the corner of his mouth.

  “I trust you too, Ming. Wanna try something new?”

 “O-okay, yeah.”

 You tapped his shoulder twice. “Lay down.”

 Like a puppy who’d just been given a command, he lowered himself against your pillows, swinging his legs up so he was laying on the bed. You swung a leg over his hips to straddle them, and his eyes immediately widened. 

 You’d never really taken time to admire how pretty Mingi was. His chest, which was more toned than you’d realized, was swelling and deflating as he attempted to stabilize his breathing. His Adam’s apple dipped as he swallowed, and you’d be stupid to not notice the way his thick thighs tensed and relaxed underneath his black jeans. 

 And then you leaned down, hovering over him to study his face. You ran your thumb over his sharp jaw as you took in his other features; The same darkness in his eyes that wasn’t mysterious, but warm and inviting. The straight line of his nose, the pointed tip of it. The birthmark under his eye, the one on his cheek, the acne scars that dotted his cheeks like stars. Those fucking lips.

 Mingi was really fucking cute. Had he always been?

 You kissed him again, smiling when a little whimper escaped his lips. 

 “Cute,” you mumbled, unaware that the word had left your mouth until it was too late.

 Or maybe it was a good thing that you said it. Mingi’s response was enough to make you think that, at least. He moaned again, louder this time, as he pushed his hips forward against yours. 

 Mingi always got hard during your makeout sessions, but you always pretended not to notice to spare him from any embarrassment. However, pretending not to notice was incredibly difficult with his bulge grinding against your heat.

 He moaned at the stimulation, but quickly interrupted himself. “Ooh-sorry! I’m so sorry, that wasn’t on purpo–”

 You clapped a hand over his mouth. “I told you we have to be quiet.”

 He nodded, eyes wide as your hand stayed pressed to his mouth. You slid it down to rest on his chest when you whispered in his ear. “Don’t be sorry. That’s what I wanted to try.”

 You pushed and pulled your hips against his erection again in one experimental thrust, grinning when his eyes screwed shut and his lips pressed together. You cupped his face to guide his lips to yours again.

 It was as uncoordinated as two virgins could be. Though your lips easily moved together from a week of practice, neither of your hips were skilled enough to set any sort of rhythm. You just desperately grabbed at each other, groping and humping and kissing like your lives depended on it. 

 Soon, you could feel your soaking panties uncomfortably sticking to your core. The fabric gave you the tiniest bit of stimulation, dragging against your clit and ever-so-slightly teasing you. And the boy underneath you was driving you insane, with his messy kisses and his tiny groans. 

 You didn’t know what the end goal was, but you knew that it felt better when you grinded your hips faster, so that’s what you did. 

 “Ah-” You silenced Mingi’s moan by pressing your mouth to his again, sighing as he hummed against your lips.

 And then he whimpered your name. He’d said your name a thousand times before, but he’d never said it like this. Like it was a cry for help, a desperate plea for something. The sound fueled the fire of your desperation as you continued moving your hips, hoping to God that he’d say it again.

 And he did. You attached your lips to his neck and he whined your name once more, followed by a tiny breath of, “O-oh, god…”

 His little sounds were getting better and better. Your name slipped past his lips between breathy whimpers and choked hums, and you kept licking and sucking his neck while you grinded your clothed, soaking pussy against his painfully hard, just as clothed dick.

 Finally, you took pity on the poor thing. His moans were getting increasingly desperate, and you could tell that he was doing everything in his power to keep them quiet. You hovered your lips directly over his ear.

 “What’s wrong, baby?”

 “A-ah-mph!” He squeezed his eyes shut as he writhed on the bed, pressing his hand to his mouth to keep his pathetic noises in. His whole body was shaking when you sat up.

 A wet patch on the crotch of his jeans made the dark fabric even darker, and a horrified expression washed over his face as your eyes immediately landed on it. If he would’ve looked between your legs, he would’ve noticed that your shorts were just as soaked, but he didn’t. He only saw your dumbfounded expression as you tried to figure out what you were supposed to say. All that came out was, “D-did you just…?”

 You just made a boy cum. From kissing. This had to have been the best day of your life. 

 “I’m sorry,” he breathed, pushing you off of him. He immediately stood up, locating his jacket on your desk and holding it in front of his pants as he slid his bag over his shoulder. “I’m… I’m sorry.” He looked down the whole time, never letting his eyes meet yours as he slipped his way out of your bedroom door. 

 “Mingi!” you called two seconds too late. “You’re not going to–” 

 You sighed, letting your voice get quiet. “Help me?”

 He didn’t come back, leaving you with soaking panties and an unsatiated pulsing between your legs that wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. 

You texted him the next morning.

 It’s not a big deal, Ming. Do you want to come over?

 He didn’t respond. You went the whole weekend without hearing from him, and even when you waited for him at your usual spot on Monday, he didn’t show. You sent him another text. 

 Stop being stupid. I miss you.

 He didn’t respond to that, either. By Tuesday, you were so anxious to see him that you waited outside his lecture hall after his morning class, scanning the crowd of faces for him. He wasn’t difficult to find; his tall frame easily distinguished him from the rest of the crowd, even with his shoulders slouched. He made eye contact with you and immediately put his head down, walking faster. 

 “Mingi!” You yelled, weaving through the crowd to follow him. 

 His pace quickened, his long legs carrying him out of the brick building and through the grassy common area, skillfully dodging flying frisbees and strategically-hung Enos. 

 “Mingi! This…” you panted. “This isn’t fair! Your legs are longer than mine!”

 He flinched with each call of his name, but he didn’t turn around. He didn’t slow down. You picked up your pace to a jog, huffing as you tried to catch up to him. “MINGI! Stop fucking ignoring me!”

 After quickening your steps to a borderline sprint, you finally got close enough to grab the handle of his backpack, yanking him backwards and causing both of you to collapse on the lawn in the process. 

 “Ow…” he whined, rubbing his butt and attempting to brush grass off of it.

 “You…” you breathed. “You fucking suck. Why aren’t you talking to me?”

 “W-What do you want me to say? What the hell am I supposed to say after humiliating myself like that?”

 “I told you it wasn’t a big deal, stupid! I wanted to make you feel good!”

 His ears burned as he looked at you with wide eyes, a mixture of embarrassment and shock painting his face. 

 “And you… you didn’t even stay and help me. I was more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life, and you just got up and left! Right after I helped you finish! Who the fuck does that?”

 “I…” he breathed, trying not to pass out. He made you more turned on than you’d ever been in your life? “I didn’t think you wanted me to…”

 “You didn’t think I wanted to feel good, too?”

 “No!” he stammered, “No, I just… I didn’t think, I mean, I thought you would think I was gross.”

 You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Mingi, the entire point of having sex is to feel good. I didn’t think you were gross, I was jealous of you.”

 And see, that was where he fundamentally disagreed with you. As far as Mingi was concerned, the entire point of having sex was to be intimate with someone you love. Feeling good was just a bonus. 

 He loved you so fucking much. Knowing that you didn’t feel the same way about him made his chest physically ache, but he knew that you needed him, and that was more than he could have hoped for. If you didn’t love him, at least you could love the way he made you feel. 

 “I’ll make it up to you next time,” he assured you. “I promise I’m gonna make you feel good.”

 Your smile reappeared, and he felt like he’d been hit by a train.

 “Yeah,” you laughed, punching his shoulder. “You better. Wanna try that new boba place?”

The boba was mid, but it was nice to just be in Mingi’s presence again. He crumpled his straw wrapper as he told you about his weekend, how his mom’s birthday was coming up, and how things were getting more serious between Yunho and his girlfriend. 

 You liked the sound of his voice. You remembered when it used to crack all the time in middle school, but it had since balanced out into a smooth baritone, cascading your ears in warmth. 

 “Are you listening to me?”

 “What? Yes.” 

 “No, you’re not,” he scoffed. ”You’ve been staring at my lips for the past five minutes.” 

 “Yeah, because you have foam on them.”

 He immediately wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his ears flushing a bright red as he mumbled a disingenuous “fuck you.”

 The foam was only a scapegoat. You both knew how much you loved his lips. 

 “Speaking of fuck you…” You shifted in your metal chair. “When… when are we going to… you know…”

 “What?”

 “You know…” You looked to the side, your eyes widening. 

 His heartrate doubled. “Oh. Um… I don’t know. Was there… did you have a specific time in mind?”

 “Sorry, didn’t realize I needed to make an appointment,” you laughed. “I don’t know. I just… I want to. Soon.”

 He remembered your words. Get it over with. 

 “Okay,” he nodded. “We can. Soon.”

 You picked up his hand that was resting on the table to play with his fingers, pinching them between your smaller ones while you chewed on a ball of sweet tapioca. 

 He swallowed and watched you, his eyes glazing over. I love you, I love you, I love you.

 Your stomach dropped a bit when you met his starry eyes. You didn’t know why.

Two days later and you had Mingi underneath you again, his hands gripping your waist while you sucked on those perfect lips. 

 “Gonna make you feel good this time…” he whispered, trying to catch his breath between your feverish kisses. “Promise.”

 You just rested your hand on the back of his neck and sighed.

 “Can I… Is it okay if I take your shirt off?” He asked, his face a deep shade of red. 

 “Yeah,” you breathed. “It’s okay.”

 But he didn’t move, so you tugged on the hem of your shirt and lifted it off yourself. His breath caught in his throat when he saw your half-naked torso, covered by nothing but a slightly too tight purple bra that you got on clearance a few years ago.

 He shakily brushed a fingertip over the little bow in the center of it.

 Your face felt so hot you were sure water would boil if someone rested a pot on your cheek.

 “Can you… take your shirt off, too? This feels weird.” You covered your torso with your arms.

 “O-oh, yeah,” he nodded. “I’m sorry. Yeah.”

 You scooted back so that he could sit up, his trembling hands lifting his shirt over his head.

 His chest was flushed red. That was the first thing you noticed. And his belly was lean, but also soft and smooth, puffing and deflating with his shallow breath. 

 You rested a hand on his chest to feel his heartbeat. He just watched you.

 “We’re not kids anymore…” you whispered. There was a sad tone to your words, almost as if you were grieving.

 “No,” Mingi shook his head, his voice barely audible. “We’re not.”

 It was a beautifully horrifying realization. The kid you used to make mud soup with was a man now, and he was touching you like you’d never been touched before.

 You kissed him then. To comfort him, to comfort yourself, to be closer to the person who already knew you better than anyone in the universe.

 You unclasped your bra and just let it loosely rest on top of your chest.

 “Hey,” Mingi whispered, “Just me, remember?”

 Right. Just Mingi. 

 You tossed your bra to the side, instinctively covering your boobs with your hands.

 “Please…” Mingi placed his hands over yours. “I want to see you.”

 He sighed when you removed your hands, just as slowly.

 “Pretty…” he mumbled. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

 You nodded and he ran his hands over the lines on your sides where your bra had been digging into your skin. You cursed yourself for not buying a new one before this. Maybe he’d like one of those silk push-up bras you always saw your friends wearing, or perhaps one of those flimsy lace bralettes that you saw in the windows at Victoria’s Secret last week.

 “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and the insecurity in your stomach almost vanished completely. Almost. 

 He leaned forward, cupping one of your tits in his huge hand and gently kissing the other. You gasped when you felt his wet tongue drag across your nipple, and he looked up at you for reassurance while you laced your fingers through his hair. 

 “Does that feel good?”

 “Yes,” you breathed. “Y-yeah, that feels good….”

 He gently latched his mouth to your nipple, sucking and then running his soft tongue over the flesh to soothe it. You didn’t mean to, but you arched your back, and his free hand found a place in the dip of your waist.

 You subconsciously tugged on his hair as he sucked your other nipple. He worshipped your tits, kissing, sucking, and licking them while you quietly moaned, grinding against his erection. You wanted to let him continue all night, but soon,  the pulsing between your thighs started to become unbearable. 

 “Ming… need you to fuck me,” you whispered. “Please.”

 He pulled back a bit, his plump lips glossy and his adam’s apple dipping as he swallowed.

 “Okay.”

 He didn’t move and you didn’t, either. You just looked at each other, breathing heavy though you’d hardly done anything yet.

 “... Nobody’s ever seen me naked before,” he said under his breath.

 You shook your head. “Me neither.”

 He kissed you again, but it was really just so that you wouldn’t watch him while he took his pants off. And you weren’t sure what you were doing, you weren’t sure why, but once both of your pants were off, you reached a hand down and felt him through the thin fabric of his boxers.

 He took in a sharp inhale. 

 “I’m sorry,” you said, “Is this okay?”

 And then you felt a large hand between your thighs, softly rubbing you through your panties.

 It felt so much different from when you did it to yourself. More pleasurable, sure, but also more vulnerable. More intense.

 Neither of you knew what to say. You felt how hard he was against your hand. He felt the little wet patch soaking through your panties. You both needed this desperately, and yet for a few moments, nobody moved. 

 “Y-you can take them off of me.” Your voice was barely above a whisper and it cracked in the middle, but you were proud of yourself for getting the words out. 

 His hands shook when he slid them down your thighs. Before he could stare for too long, you slid your fingers under the waistband of his boxers and pushed them down. 

 You weren’t sure if he was big or not. You’d never seen a penis in real life before, only in porn, and he looked about the same size as what you’d seen in porn. Did that mean he was big?

 He looked down, and you realized you were staring. “Sorry,” you stammered, forcing yourself to look him in the eye again. 

 “N-no, it’s okay. Is it… I mean, do you like it?”

 Your face broke into a smile. Mingi, Mingi, Mingi. “Yes, it’s  lovely, Ming. Stop stressing.”

 You reached for a condom on your nightstand, closely inspecting the foil packet for instructions. 

 “I think I can do it,” he mumbled, gently taking the condom out of your hand.

 “You know how to?”

 “I think so.”

 After a few minutes of him fumbling with the latex, his lips were on yours again and you could feel his dick resting on your thigh. 

 “Are you ready?” He pulled back for a moment to look you in the eye.

 “M-mhm,” you nodded.

 He kissed your cheek and held his dick in his hand, aligning himself. A painful stretching sensation flooded your lower half as his thick tip poked at your entrance. 

 He inhaled shakily. “C-can I… can I push it in now?”

 You nodded. “I… think so? Y-yeah… go ahead…”

 He pushed his hips forward, and the sensation intensified when you felt his tip enter you with a pop. The pain was excruciating, unlike anything you’d ever felt before. A horrid stretch, almost like a burn, splitting you open in the worst way. Tears pricked into your eyes.

 “OW! Ow, ow, ow, stop, stop, stop!” You pushed his broad shoulders away, whimpering when he frantically pulled out. That hurt, too.

 “O-oh my god, are you okay? What did I- D-did I do something wrong?”

 You looked down at his dick, which was still fully hard. He was big, you supposed. Really big. With his cock resting on your stomach, it went all the way up to your belly button. You felt stupid for thinking you could take him without any prep.

 And you also felt embarrassed. This wasn’t how your first time was supposed to go. This didn’t happen in porn. You were supposed to be screaming his name, he was supposed to be groaning yours and pounding you into the mattress. You were supposed to be making him feel good, and he was supposed to be doing the same for you. A lump formed in your throat and you attempted to blink the tears out of your eyes, which probably just made them more teary. 

 “No,” you breathed. “I think… I don’t think I’m wet enough.”

 He frowned. “Did we not kiss for long enough?”

 “No, no, we did.” Guilt crept into your chest. You knew this wasn’t how he pictured his first time going, either. 

 His frown intensified as a pained look washed over his face. “Are you not… is it because you’re not attracted to me?”

 “Stop it, Mingi. It’s not for any reason. You didn’t do anything wrong. Let’s just… we can get lube from the store and try again tomorrow, okay? I can jerk you off to help you finish if you want.”

 His heart ached. He didn’t want you to ‘help him finish.’ He wanted to make love to you, soft and tender and slow. He wanted to hold your face and kiss your forehead and tell you how much you meant to him.

 But his dick was painfully hard, and there aren’t many times that the love of your life offers to help you finish even though they don’t feel the same way about you, so he said, “Yes, please.”

 You wrapped your fingers around his erection, biting your cheek to stop yourself from crying. He bit his lip to do the same.

Mingi couldn’t make eye contact with the cashier when he bought lube from the drug store the next day. His hands shook as he put his card into the reader, and they kept shaking while he entered his pin number. The machine dinged and he yanked his card out, snatching the plastic bag from the cashier before they had time to offer him a receipt. His face burned the entire walk to your dorm and didn’t stop burning once he got there.

 His breath caught in his throat when you opened the door. “I got the…” he held the plastic bag up. “I got the stuff.”

 You laughed and stepped back to let him inside. “You make it sound like we’re about to do drugs.”

 Yeah, something like that.

 Mingi didn’t say anything when you sat him on your bed and straddled his hips. He whimpered a little bit when you pressed your lips to his, and you assumed that it was just because he was horny. 

 You held the side of his neck and worked your tongue against his, rolling your hips forward to grind against his growing bulge. He whimpered again, and you moved your face down to suck on his neck. 

 “I think you need to finger me first,” you whispered in his ear.

 “W-what?” He blinked up at you for a moment, his eyes wide and starry before he shyly looked away. “I’ve never… I mean… I don’t know how to do that.”

 “It can’t be that hard, right? You just take your fingers and, like… put them in me.”

 “I think it’s a little more complicated than that.”

 “Well… I’ll just tell you what feels good, okay? I do it to myself all the time.”

 His eyes snapped up again as he imagined you touching yourself. He’d thought about it before, late at night when he was jerking off, but hearing you say it out loud made him feel dizzy. Flames erupted across his cheeks again, and his body tensed.

 Your face burned with the realization of your confession. “Stop picturing it.”

 “S-sorry.”

 “I just need your fingers first, okay? I can’t… I can’t take your dick without some prep first.”

 It was like you wanted him to cum in his pants again. He nodded and reached for the plastic bag, fishing out the lube and taking it out of its little purple box. 

 “I’m sorry about yesterday, by the way.” His voice was quiet.

 “There’s nothing to be sorry about. That’s why we’re doing this together, you know? Because we feel safe around each other.”

 He nodded.

 “But for the record…” You lowered your head, still embarrassed about how yesterday went. “I’m sorry, too.”

 “There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He smiled.

 You kissed him, and you were so glad that you were kissing him. 

 “I’m really going to need you to walk me through this because I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.” His cheeks were a splotchy red. 

 You laughed. “I promise it sounds scarier than it actually is.” You pulled your shirt over your head, embarrassed again when you realized you were wearing the same purple bra that you wore yesterday.

 “Shit,” you breathed. “I meant to wear something nicer for you today. Sorry.”

 For me? Mingi thought. For me? 

 But he said, “I like this one. It’s cute.” And he touched the little bow again.

 “Thanks.” You climbed off of his lap to take your shorts off. “Lift your arms.”

 He obeyed, and you lifted his shirt over his head. It didn’t need to be off yet, you supposed, but you’d been dreaming about Mingi’s lean abdomen all day and you didn’t want to wait another second to have it under your fingertips again. 

 You laid down on the bed and slid your panties off, but didn’t spread your legs yet. You felt vulnerable again, especially considering that Mingi still had his pants on. 

 “C-can you–” you started.

 “Yeah,” Mingi nodded, already unbuttoning his pants. When they were off, he sat back down and gently brushed his fingertips over your thigh. 

 “Okay,” he breathed. “Tell me what to do.”

 “Just… just kiss me for a second.” The truth was, you weren’t even really sure how to give him instructions, and you wanted to buy yourself some time. You usually just felt around until something felt good, and you weren’t sure how to explain that to him.

 He kissed you. You decided that even if he was always too big for you, even if you couldn’t ever take his full length, you’d probably be just as happy kissing him and jerking him off like you did last night.

 You felt his hand on your inner thigh and you liked the feeling. 

 “Okay, so…” you inhaled deeply. “Just start with one. And you can just kinda… feel around? I’ll tell you what feels good.”

 “Okay,” he nodded, taking a deep breath, too. “Okay.”

 He dripped some of the lube onto his fingers, rubbing it with his thumb in an attempt to warm it up. Your body tensed as you felt his finger slide between your folds, shaking slightly as he rubbed you up and down.

 He seemed to stop breathing for a moment. His eyes just raked over your body, all wide and starry while he clumsily touched you. 

 “You’re gorgeous,” he breathed. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

 “M-Mingi, Ah-” You let out a tiny yelp when his fingertip brushed your clit.

 “Did I hurt you?” He immediately stopped, taking his fingers away. 

 “N-no, that felt good… really good…” You nodded. 

 He tried to find the spot again, clumsily drawing circles around it.

 “S-so good. Yeah, r-right there,” you sighed.

 His fingertip slipped a little too far to the left. 

 “N-no, back where it was.”

 After a few seconds of “Here?” and “No, here,” back and forth, he found the spot again and gently traced it. 

 Your eyes rolled back and closed as your body twitched, trying to get used to the sensation of being touched by another person. 

 Then his fingers slid further down, but it was intentional this time. 

 Mingi looked you in the eye and didn’t say anything as he gently circled his fingertip around your opening, coating it in lube and spreading your arousal at the same time. 

 You didn’t say anything, either. You couldn’t if you tried. But he understood your tiny nod and the look of desperation in your eyes, so he gently pushed his finger inside. 

 His long, thick finger went deeper than your own ever had, but it didn’t hurt. “O-ohh,” you breathed, shivering.

 Mingi was at a loss for words. Your pussy was hugging his finger so tight and you felt so warm and the tiny noises that you were making were about to send him over the edge. “Fuck…” he sharply inhaled through his teeth, staring up at the ceiling for a minute so that he didn’t cum untouched.

 “M-Mingi,” you breathed, “Go like this.” And then you held a finger up and curved it inward, and he immediately obeyed.

 Your back arched to a borderline uncomfortable degree as you let out a pathetic little noise, and Mingi seriously was on the edge of an orgasm already.

 “I-is that a sensitive spot?”

 “Do it again,” you commanded. “Mingi, do that again.”

 He did, and then he did it a few more times, pumping his finger and setting a rhythm. You were probably being a little too squirmy, but you couldn’t help it. Nothing had ever felt like this before. 

 “Fuck,” you breathed. “Add another one.”

 Mingi meant to ask ‘Are you sure?’ but his head was so fuzzy with arousal that he just obeyed, pushing his middle finger in next to his pointer finger.

 “S-shit,” you gasped, sitting up and holding his wrist. “Hold on a sec– fuck.”

 “Are you okay?”

 “It feels good,” you nodded. “Just forgot how thick these are.”

 He understood. He could almost feel you stretching out, and he suddenly felt horribly guilty for not offering to do this before he attempted to put his dick inside of you yesterday.

 “You’re doing amazing,” he encouraged you, nodding slightly. “J-just let me know when you want more, okay?”

 “C-can you…” You blushed, too shy to complete your sentence. 

 He knit his eyebrows at you, giving you an encouraging nod. He felt your pussy tighten around his fingers, and he tried not to groan.

 “What do you need, baby?” He soothed, “Just tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.”

 Your face burned. Mingi had never been more attractive to you, with his lips swollen and his cheeks flaming and his fingers deep inside of you. He was gently thrusting his fingers, massaging your g-spot, tracing your opening, and stretching you out all in a fluid motion.

 “C-can you play with my clit again while you do that?” You whispered. 

 He nodded immediately, smiling and circling his thumb around your pebbled clit. 

 “O-ohh…” you moaned, burying your face in his neck. “Oh my god…”

 He swallowed roughly. “G-good…” He encouraged as he felt you slowly relax around his fingers.

 Your back arched, tiny little whimpers escaping you as Mingi made love to you with his hand. 

 And he was barely holding it together. He could feel the tip of his dick sticking to his boxers, precum smearing against the fabric and providing his cockhead with the tiniest bit of friction every time he moved his hips. 

 “Do you want one more? Or are you good with two?” His voice was hoarse. 

 “I d-on’t—“ You inhaled sharply, eyes closing as you felt the tiny spark of an orgasm in your core. “D-don’t think I can take a third…”

 Mingi nodded, and then he kissed your forehead. He wanted to speak, but he was putting all of his effort into keeping up a steady rhythm with his hand and not coming in his pants while your tensed thigh rubbed his dick. 

 And then it was silent for a few moments, except for the quiet squelching coming from between your legs every few seconds. 

 “I think I’m gonna cum.” You whispered, keeping your eyes closed. Focusing on that feeling, chasing it.

 Mingi swallowed, his breath catching. “Mm.” He hummed. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

 Your breath caught in your throat, the rest of it escaping in a choked whimper. “F-faster…” You breathed, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Please.”

 He nodded, quickening his movements. You leaned up, catching his lips in a messy kiss as you got closer and closer.

 You were quieter than you thought you’d be. As your orgasm approached, you hardly made any noise at all, save for a few little gasps. 

 Your mouth dropped open and you pressed your forehead to your lover’s, letting out one single moan as your orgasm clenched down on his fingers. It ran through your body in waves, your muscles tensing and releasing rhythmically.

 “My god…” Mingi groaned, continuing his movements. “G-Good job, baby.”

 You squeaked, gently pushing his hand away as you neared overstimulation. His brows furrowed as he worried that he’d hurt you, but you immediately eased his anxiety by holding the back of his neck and pressing your lips to his again.

 “Felt so good…” You mumbled through kisses. “T-think I’m ready now…”

 His heart fluttered as he felt your hand between his legs, stroking his sensitive thighs. And then he looked at you in a way that a boy had never looked at you before, with big, dark, sparkling, pleading eyes. Like he needed you.

 So gently, like you were afraid he’d break, you slipped his dick out of his blue plaid boxers. He was so hard, so sticky and pulsing that you were sure he must have been in pain. “Thank you for making me feel good,” you whispered. “I know it must have been hard to wait…”

 He shook his head, closing his eyes. “Don’t thank me.” He let out a tiny noise as you stroked him once. “I loved it,” he breathed. “I loved doing that for you.”

 You smiled, kissing him again. “Take these off,” you pleaded, tugging at the waistband of his boxers. 

 Mingi pushed them down, kicking them off the bed at his feet. And then he was fully naked, hovering above you, also fully naked. It should have been scary, but you’d never felt more safe. You reached your arms behind him, stroking his back before sliding your hands down to teasingly squeeze his ass.

 He let out a choked noise and you laughed. “Sorry, I’ve always wanted to do that. You have a really nice ass.”

 He shook his head, laughing and kissing you again.

 “You’re really beautiful, Mingi.” You whispered, feeling another pang in your core as he groaned at the praise. 

 He reached a hand up, squeezing your breast as he kissed you and kissed you and kissed you. His heavy cock rested on your belly, clear precum sticking to your soft skin. 

 You reached for the condom on the nightstand, carefully ripping it open. His eyes didn’t leave your face as you gently rolled it onto him, your small hand wrapping around his girth. You slid his tip between your folds, then coated it in even more lube. You knew it might still hurt a little bit, but you felt much more prepared for it this time. 

 “The second it starts to hurt,” he whispered, his voice raspy. “You tell me.”

 You nodded. The two of you looked into each other’s eyes, and didn’t look away when his tip was aligned with your entrance. 

 But his eyes fluttered shut a bit when he slipped inside. He couldn’t help it.

 Your gasp made him open his eyes again. “Are you okay?”

 “Mmh–” You nodded, your voice high pitched and squeaky. He pushed forward, filling you, stretching you, making you his.

 “Mingi…” You whined, tears blurring your vision. “S-so big…”

 He kissed away the first tear that fell. “I know, I’m sorry,” he whispered, “Y-You’re doing so well.”

 He stilled for a moment, allowing you to adjust to his length. 

 “Is it…” You looked up at him with teary eyes. “Is it all the way in yet?”

 “Not yet.” His eyes were full of empathy and adoration. “Can you take any more? It’s okay if you can’t.”

 You whimpered. “S’big, Mingi.”

 “I know, baby, I know it’s big. Does it feel good? D-Does it hurt?”

 “It feels…” you trailed off. “It feels good but it hurts. I dunno if I can take any more.”

 “That’s okay,” he nodded, kissing your forehead. “You feel s-so good just like this.”

 “R-really?”

 “Yes,” he nodded. “You feel amazing. So… so fucking good.” He gritted his teeth as he spoke, shaking and sweating and forcing himself to not instinctively start fucking you hard and fast. “Can I move a little bit now?”

 “Yes,” you nodded. “Slow, please.”

 He pulled back so that only the very end of his tip was dipped into your opening, then shakily pushed forward in a single stroke, a little over three quarters of the way inside. 

 Tears stung his and your eyes. You felt better than anything he’d ever felt before, and the stretching sensation was starting to feel more pleasant than painful. 

 “I’m so…” he whimpered. “I’m so proud of you. You’re taking me so well.”

 “Mingi…” you whined in response, clawing at his back. “F-feels good.”

 “Yeah?” His eyes met yours. “It feels good?”

 “Mmm. I want… want you to fuck me. B-but slow, okay?”

 He visibly shivered, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as his whole body became covered in goosebumps. 

 “T-tell me if it’s too much.”

 He attempted to set a pace then, slowly pushing and pulling his hips to halfway-fuck you as gently as he possibly could. Little moans slipped from your lips in time with his thrusts.

 “Ungh…” he whimpered, “God. F-feels so good. You’re so…” his eyebrows furrowed. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”

 “Mingi…” You rested your hand on his cheek. “Kiss.”

 He didn’t need to be told twice. His perfectly full lips gently kissed yours, softly massaging his tongue into your mouth while he slowly pumped his cock in and out of you. You were embarrassed that you couldn’t take his whole length yet, but you decided in that moment that this wouldn’t be the last time you did this with him, and you had all the time in the world to train for the entirety of him. 

 “Fuck…” he repeated, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m… I’m close. I’m sorry.”

 “You are?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at him, a moan slipping from your lips when his thrusts got a bit faster. 

 That was fast, you thought, but it was his first time, you supposed. You hoped he had good stamina, because you didn’t want this night to be anywhere close to over.

 “I c-can’t…” His hips were starting to shake a bit. “God, you feel so good. Squeezing me so tight.”

 “Ming…” you whispered, holding his face. “I wanna make you cum. Want you to cum for me.”

 “Oh, fuck…” he whimpered. “God, f-fuck-“

 His voice cracked as his eyes squeezed shut, his belly tensing and his lips dropping open in a silent moan. 

 And for a few seconds, time didn’t exist. There was only him and you and your bodies, like this was how you were always meant to be. You felt his big hand on your waist and his thick length stretching you out, but you also felt that same comforting atmosphere that always followed him around. You saw his face, the one that you knew so well, contorted in pleasure, and you heard his familiar voice making unfamiliar noises. And there was no one in the world you’d rather do this with. There was no one else you wanted to kiss. 

 “I love you.”

 He cried out as he came, curling in on himself and burying his face in your neck as he pulled out so just his tip was inside, pumping the condom full of his load. 

 He pulled out and rested his cock on your belly, huffing in your neck as he caught his breath. 

 You stroked his hair and swallowed, a lump forming in your throat. 

 You said it. You told him out loud and you’d never be able to take it back. 

 He just kept breathing down your neck, sweaty and shaking and wondering if he heard you right. 

 “I– I tried not to…” you breathed. “I tried so hard not to fall in love with you. You’re my best friend and you mean more to me than anyone else. But I just…” 

 You swallowed. There was really no going back now. 

 “I see you smiling and it hits me like a steamroller. Like my chest is knocked in and I can’t breathe. It feels… It feels like I’m suffocating and I don’t know how to stop it or make it go away.”  

 You felt his large hand hold your jaw, and his lips were on yours. 

 “Please… be my girlfriend,” he mumbled, breathless between kisses.

 You pulled back to look in his eyes. “What?”

 “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. Please, please, please be my girlfriend.”

 Your face broke a little bit. “You have?”

 He nodded, and then his face broke, too. “Please say yes.” He held your face, looking deep into your eyes. “P-please, baby.”

 “Obviously yes,” you smiled, tears so close to spilling from your eyes. “Dummy.”

 “I love you,” he cried, kissing you again. “I love you so fucking much.”

 “Mingi,” you breathed, for no reason other than to say his name. 

 He kissed you and cried and you kissed him and cried, and he suddenly remembered what Yunho said. A nice way to show her I really care. 

 He kissed down your neck, across your chest, on your nipples, over your belly, until his shoulders were between your thighs.

 “W-what are you doing?” You asked, looking down at him a little too innocently.

 “I don’t really know,” he sighed, leaning forward and kissing your dewy pussy.

 “A-ah! Mingi!” Your legs instinctively closed around his head, and his big hands gently pried them open again. 

 “It’s okay…” he breathed, leaning forward again. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m not gonna hurt you.” He sweetly kissed your inner thigh before spreading you with his tongue.

 You whimpered and squirmed, grabbing a fistful of his soft dark hair. 

 “You sound so pretty,” he mumbled, kissing your clit, “And you taste so good…”

 His thick, plump lips worked with his velvet tongue to worship your pussy. And it was loud, the room filled with wet sounds and Mingi’s groans, along with the pathetic little moans you were letting out. 

 You looked down at him. His ears and cheeks were dark red, his eyes closed, the sharp tip of his nose shiny and wet. 

 “T-that feels really good, Ming—“ You were interrupted by your own gasp as his tongue slipped into your entrance. 

 “You’re mine now…” His deep voice sounded gravelly and thick. “You’re all fucking mine…”

 “Mingi…” You whimpered, lacing your fingers through his hair as his lips sweetly sucked your clit. How did you learn how to do this? You wanted to ask. 

 But he was moaning against you again before the thought could finish. “I’m gonna do this every fuckin’ day…” He blinked slowly, a string of drool connecting his lips and your pussy. He used his broad shoulders to push your legs open even wider, taking a deep breath before diving back in. 

 This time, he slipped two fingers inside of you while he worked his tongue. He closed his eyes, enjoying the taste of you while he passionately used his fingers and tongue. 

 “I’ve dreamed of this…” He paused to kiss your inner thighs. “Wanted this for so long… needed to know what you tasted like.”

 “Mingi…” You breathed, watching as his pink tongue drew circles around your clit. “I-I’m gonna cum again…”

 “Yes,” he groaned, never coming up for air. “Please, baby. Come in my mouth. I wanna taste all of it, please… wanna lick you clean.”

 Hearing those filthy words come from shy, sweet Mingi’s mouth made your stomach flutter. Your thighs clenched around his head as he gave you the most enthusiastic slurp of the night, the otherwise silent room filled with the sounds of his mouth devouring you. 

 You moaned so loud when you came that there was no doubt in your mind that your roommates heard. Mingi’s groans of enthusiasm were hardly muted, either. 

 Your thighs twitched, your body shook and your hips pressed against Mingi’s warm mouth as your orgasm consumed you, and you’d never felt more adored in your life.

 And then he didn’t stop. 

 “Mingi!” You cried out, trying to squirm away from his tongue. 

 But he looped his arm under one of your thighs, keeping you pried open. He used his other hand to spread your pussy, groaning as he licked it again. 

 “My girl…” He mumbled, and he seemed to be drunk off the taste of you, talking to himself. “Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy…” 

 Your eyes widened and you twitched as his tongue flicked inside of you again. You’d never seen this side of Mingi before; you’d never seen anything close to this side of Mingi before… and you really, really didn’t want it to stop. But—

 “I’m really sensitive, Ming…”

 That seemed to snap him out of his trance a bit. He looked up, moving his body up to sweetly kiss your lips again. “I’m sorry, baby. You j-just…” He sighed, catching his breath. “You taste so good.”

 You smiled. “I really like it when you call me baby.”

 He kissed your forehead then collapsed on the bed, laying next to you. You rolled onto your side, gently stroking his belly. 

 “Do you feel good?” He asked softly, his full cheeks blushing. “Was that enough?”

 “Enough?” You laughed in disbelief. “It was perfect.” You nodded. “Perfect.”

 “I’ll always make sure you’re satisfied, okay?” Your boyfriend looked you in the eye, his brow slightly furrowed. “A-and I’ll always make sure you’re taken care of. I’ll make sure your belly is always full and your shoes never get dirty.”

 A kiss on his chin, your face in his neck. “It’s just me, Mingi. Just you and me.”

 “Just us…” He mumbled, “Just like always.”

 You nodded and then sat in silence, touching and being touched. He stroked your thigh with his pinky, his eyes on your lips. 

 “In our own little world. Just the two of us.”

[pretty-circa006]

Backyard Barbecue pt. 2 of the Summer Break mini series

dadsbsf! Negan x F! Reader x dadsbsf! Rick

summary Rick and Negan are back for the annual backyard barbecue tags pseudo smut?, making out, groping, dry humping, age gap

wc 2.5k

note @a-vampire-bat this one's for you! thank you so much for being patient! i'm so sorry that this took forever and i really hope it doesn't disappoint!! i promise that pt.3 is already in the works!

p.s. be sure to let me know if i missed any warnings, i've gotten a bit rusty haha

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

Out of all her family’s traditions, the annual summer barbecue her father puts on his her favorite. It’s not just the food–although that is one of the highlights–but it’s the atmosphere. A bright sunny day with a backyard full of laughter and people she hasn’t seen in oh so long, her favorites, of course, being Rick and Negan. Before she left for college, she saw Negan quite frequently since he lived nearby, but Rick, she only saw a couple times a year; major holidays, the annual summer barbecue, and whenever he just happened to be in the area. 

“Honey, come down and help me with something real quick,” her mom’s voice calls from downstairs. 

“Coming!” she shouts back. She’s not actually coming, though, she’s looking in the mirror trying to decide if her outfit is sexy enough to catch Rick’s and Negan’s eyes while also being appropriate to wear around the other guests. Maybe just a bikini would catch too many eyes, so she opts for a little, pink, floral sundress instead. It's short enough that she shouldn't bend over while leaving just enough for the imagination. 

“Finally, what took you so long? Never mind, just go open the gate. The guests’ll be here soon,” her mom tells her. 

Feeling giddy, she hurries out the sliding glass door and across the back yard, passing her dad who’s putting charcoal in the grill. As soon as she swings the wooden gate open, she comes face to face with Rick. His bright blue eyes that look even brighter and bluer in the summer sunlight take her in, eyeing her body before forcing their way to her face. 

“Rick! You’re here early.” She jumps into his arms, embracing him as if she didn’t see him last night. He reciprocates and presses a lingering kiss to her temple. 

“Came early to help set up,” he explains without looking away from her. 

The sound of a motorcycle snatches her attention away from Rick and when she realizes that it’s Negan she perks up even more. 

“Looks like Negan’s early, too!” She sidesteps Rick and hurries out to the front to greet Negan. Jealousy bubbles in Rick’s chest as he watches her jump into Negan’s arms, much like she did to him a second ago. But Negan picks her up and spins her around before setting her back down, still keeping an arm wrapped around her. They’re too far away for him to hear what they’re talking about, but seeing Negan make her laugh causes him to clench his jaw and ball his hand into a fist. Negan playfully smacking her ass pushes him over the edge.

“Hey, Negan,” Rick shouts, catching both hers and Negan’s attention. 

“Are you gonna help set up or what?” He doesn’t mean for so much anger to seep into his voice, but seeing Negan touching what’s his pisses him off. 

“I just got here, asshole. Give me a minute!” 

Rick is able to relax a little when she leaves Negan’s side and walks back into the yard, but what he just saw leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆

The backyard's full of guests; family and friends reuniting, children running around splashing in the pool, and the smell of food wafting through the humid air. This is another thing she loves about summer. With all the activity happening, she hadn't been able to check in on Rick or Negan. Having finally finished making fruit salad for the quests, she heads back inside to sit down for a moment. 

"Honey, can you do me a favor?" she hears her mom ask as soon as she sat down. Begrudgingly, she gets up and trudges into the kitchen. 

"Bring these out to Negan while he's still grilling." Her mom dumps a pack of ribs into her arms before going back to whatever busywork she was doing before. Normally she's irritated by these little favors, but since it’s a reason to see Negan, she's happy. Happily, she saunters over to Negan who’s manning the grill in a white t-shirt and shorts, covered by an apron that says ‘kiss the cook’ because of course he has one of those. 

“Hey doll!” Negan greets when she comes into view, his arm open wide for a hug while the other tends to the meat. She melts into the hug, her face pressed into his strong chest as his arm holds her close. He smells mostly of grill smoke and faintly of cologne and it’s hypnotizing. Despite the sweltering weather, she feels cold when he pulls away from the hug. 

“It smells great over here, what’re you makin’? She asks, handing him the package of ribs. 

“You’re smellin’ this barbecue sauce I made,” he dips his index finger into the bowl of sauce and holds it up to her, “Taste it. It is fuckin’ delicious.” This gives her pause, but only momentarily. She leans down, maintaining eye contact with him as she takes his finger into her mouth and sucks the sauce from it. A smirk grows across his face as he watches her, feeling her warm mouth around his finger. 

“Good, huh?” He pridefully questions, taking back his finger. She nods with approval but is barely able to hide the fact that she's flustered. 

"Wanna try it on some ribs?"

"I wanna go swimmin' 'fore I eat!" 

"Better fuckin' hope there's some food left for ya. Nobody can resist my cookin'." 

"Or...," she grabs his hand and holds it in hers, looking up at him with sultry, half-lidded eyes, "you can just wait 'til I'm done to finish cookin' up everything." She bites back a smile when she sees a look in Negan's hazel eyes telling her that he's considering her proposition. 

"Sorry, doll. As much as I'd love to, I can't leave all these other assholes to starve." 

"Fine," she drops his hand and he lets it fall limp against his side, "guess you don't wanna help me pick out a swimsuit." She doesn't wait for a response or reaction and just walks toward the house. Seconds later, she hears his hurried footsteps rushing to catch up to her.  

Another perk of him being her dad's best friend is that nobody seems to bat an eye at the two of them heading toward her bedroom. He sits on her bed like it's second nature and she shuts the door. His elbows are rested on his knees and head resting on his hands. It's almost as if he physically can't tear his eyes away from her as he watches her every move with a growing lust. 

"One piece or bikini?" she asks him, snatching his focus away from her smooth legs. 

"Hmmmm," he shamelessly eyes her body up and down before locking into her eyes, "bikini." 

"Good call," she replies as she makes her way over to her dresser. She doesn't have to look behind her to know that Negan's watching her every move. Being under his scrutinizing gaze isn't uncomfortable, in fact, it makes her feel hot inside, knowing that of everything around them, she's capturing his focus. It makes teasing him irresistible. She seductively bends over to open her bottom drawer, allowing her dress to reveal all of what's underneath to Negan's eager eyes. Without looking, she tosses the garments at him. 

"Okay!" she stands up abruptly and cuts his show short, "which one?" 

He takes a moment to sift through the options and pick his favorite: a bandeau bikini with matching bottoms. 

"I think you'd look so goddamn delicious in...." His mouth goes dry before he can finish his sentence when he looks up and realize she's already naked. 

"Holy shit," he says under his breath. 

She steps in front of him and stands between his legs, her tits almost directly in his face. 

"Help me put it on." 

A dimpled, toothy grin spreads across his face as he grabs her hips and helps her straddle his lap. 

"Why don't we keep it off for a bit?" A gasp cuts off whatever reply popped into her mind upon feeling Negan's large hands slip lower and grip her ass. Unabashedly, he kneads at the soft flesh. She can feel him growing hard beneath the confines of his jeans. 

"What happened to not wanting all the guests to starve?" she teases. 

"There's snacks for a reason." 

She smiles at him, happy that he fell right into her trap. Her not-so-sneaky hands make their way to his belt, eager to free him, to finally feel him. 

"What's the rush, baby, we've got all goddamn day." 

His belt's now undone and she's working on unbuttoning his pants. 

"I've already been waitin' all goddamn day!" 

"That's it? I've been waitin' since I got here last night." 

"Then let's not wait anymore!" 

He lays back again the bed, pulling her with him to lay on top of him. She cups his face in her hand, running her thumb along the prickly hairs of his beard before leaning down and pressing her soft lips to his. Her free hand palms him through his boxers, feeling him twitch beneath her teasing touch. He lets out a guttural groan into her mouth, allowing her to slide her tongue in and kiss him deeper. From behind, he slides a finger along her folds, feeling her wetness. She stops palming him and starts grinding her bare pussy against his clothed erection. 

"Can you feel how badly I missed you?" he asks when she pulls away for a breath. 

"Wanna feel it inside me." 

He flips them over leaving her beneath him on her back and him on top of her. He admires her kiss-swollen lips and lust-darkened eyes: a picture of pure beauty. 

"Anything you want, doll," he promises as he pulls down his boxers. 

A flurry of panicked knocks interrupts things before they could escalate. 

"Honey, have you seen Negan? There's somethin' burnin' on the grill outside and he's nowhere to be seen!" her mom whines from behind the door. Without missing a beat to wait for a reply, her mom tries the doorknob, causing her heart to race. 

"Wait! I'm changing!" she screams. 

"Sorry! I'll just go see if your dad has seen him." 

Negan breathes a sigh of frustration and redresses himself. "I guess this is my sign to get back on the grill. But I fuckin' promise ya, I'll be back to finish what I started." 

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆

With a bottle of sunscreen in hand and a dream, she walks over to Rick who's sitting by the pool nursing a beer. Her shadow blocks the sunlight from his face, causing him to look up. His jaw nearly drops when he sees her, which tells her that it's gonna be easy to get him to do what she wants him to. 

"Long time, no see," she greets him as she takes a seat on his lap. Thankfully, they're in the shade and out of the view of any prying eyes. His arms immediately wrap around her and pull her close. He presses a few gentle, lingering kisses on her bare shoulder, making her get all hot and bothered again. 

"Where've you been all day, princess?" he asks. 

Her mind wanders back to minutes ago when she was in her bedroom with Negan about to have sex with him, but Rick doesn't need to know that. She completely ignores the question and hands him the bottle of sunscreen. 

"You'll help me out, won't you?" 

"Of course, darlin'. Wouldn't want you to get a sun burn," he replies as he accepts the bottle. He flips open the cap and squeezes a dollop of the sunscreen in into his palm before rubbing it in. He starts with her shoulders and the back of her neck, massaging her slightly as he rubs in the sunscreen. Her eyes flutter shut as she relaxes into his touch.

"Lay down so I can do your back," he commands softly. They change positions so that she's laying on her stomach in the lawn chair and he's standing above her. His eyes can't help but wander down to her ass. Her bikini bottoms don't leave much to the imagination, yet somehow it's still too much clothing for Rick's taste. He takes a deep breath, a weak attempt to hold himself back from pulling her bottoms to the side and fucking her right there and then. 

"Rick?" she asks, taking a peek at the man behind her. His face is slightly flushed and she can see him getting hard in his pants. 

"Sunscreen, remember?" she taunts as she wiggles her ass at him. 

A gasp unleashes itself from her throat at the unexpected slap Rick plants on her ass. He doesn't stop there. Roughly, he rubs the sunscreen in, his hands occasionally slipping beneath the garment and even between her thighs. His hands disappear for a second as he squirts more sunscreen into his hand. Rick's hands slide up her body as he applies the spf onto her back. She misses the sensation of his big, rough hands groping her ass. 

"Need help with your front, too?" he jokingly asks. He's already squeezing more sunscreen into his hand as if he knows the answer is going to be yes. She sits up in the chair and turns 

to face him. Like he did before, he starts with her neck and shoulders. He runs his thumb along her jugular, feeling how fast her heart's racing. He moves lower and caresses her collar bones, taking his sweet time feeling her up. 

"Riiiick," she whines impatiently. 

"Let me take my time with you, darlin'." He slides his hands down to the tops of her breasts before reaching behind and unclasping her bikini top. Rick gropes and kneads at the soft mounds, causing her to clench her thighs together. Without pulling his hands away, he leans down and captures her mouth in a deep, passionate kiss. She briefly wonders if he can taste Negan on her tongue, but quickly pushes the thought away. He pulls away from her mouth, almost as if he also heard that thought, and starts kissing down her neck, his facial hair tickling at her soft skin. Her body tastes like sunscreen, but he doesn't care, he licks and sucks at her skin, intentionally leaving marks as he does so, but her mind is too far gone to care. 

Nearby footsteps snatch both of their attention. 

"Last I saw him, he was by the pool." 

"Shit! It's my dad," she hisses as she fumbles to put her bikini top back on. Rick clumsily helps her out. 

"Maybe that asshole is too scared I'll kick his ass in another poker game," she hears Negan reply. 

Rick lets out a sigh of frustration- whether it's at Negan's comment or the fact he has to leave, she's not sure- and gets up.

"I better go find 'em before they find us." 

She crosses her arms over her now covered chest and pouts at him. He grabs her chin and tilts her head up to look at him. 

"Don't give me that attitude. I promise we'll finish this later, okay baby?" he reassures. She timidly nods and he presses a quick kiss to her lips before running off. 

for those who requested to be tagged @i-yua @tatertati-fangirl @noneofmyshipsarereal @lunajay33 @ricks-dumbdoll @darylssextoy69 @tsukiko26 @everyonelovesava @eternalrose81 @a-vampire-bat

[seventeenpins]

bloom

pairing: stepdad!joel miller x f!reader

word count: 5.8k

summary: part three of bad girl. you decide to go out on a tinder date. joel gets jealous.

warnings: joel is an asshole, stepcest, infidelity, oral sex, somnophilia (mentioned) unsafe piv, creampie, dirty talk, fingering, daddy kink, age difference (reader is late 20s, joel is mid-40s), a bit of dom/sub vibes, smidge of role reversal (really just two stubborn people being stubborn), multiple orgasms, romance almost????, joel is sad and lost and possibly in love but mainly just wants to be wanted (but is bad at talking about real things), maybe not edited as much as it ought to be--pls tell me if there are any glaring issues you notice

a/n: finally finally actually got this finished weeks after i was certain i'd be posting. thanks to @livingdeadmaria for the jealousy angle. kinda gets away from itself, but i hope very much that you enjoy. i can't begin to express how much i appreciate your thoughtful messages and comments and interactions 💕

these past few weeks had gone by in a blur and you're hyperaware of how quickly the time is passing. joel had been taking good care of you, fucking you pretty much any time your mom was out of the house, and a couple times when she wasn't.

after casually mentioning how you'd love for him to make you feel good every minute of the day, he had laughed.

"doubt you'd want me makin' ya feel good if you're not even awake to enjoy it," he'd said.

"are you kidding me? waking up to you playing with me sounds like a dream," you told him, and he stilled, swallowing deeply.

your mom would pass out heavily after a night of drinking, and when her snores started in earnest, joel would sneak into your room, lock the door, and wake you up by dragging a palm over your tits, pinching at your nipples, rubbing a finger along your pussy, all the while telling you how good you're doin', that you taste so fuckin' sweet, god you're a fuckin angel when you're sleepin', and the one that you heard him say right as you woke up with his fingers deep in your cunt and a hand on your breast, already all worked up, and you came instantly; "you'd better hush that goddamn mouth or i'll hush it for you, baby, you gotta be quiet for daddy or your momma might wake up and then daddy won't be able to make you feel good like this-"

so no, you weren't unsatisfied with your sex life. in fact, you were more than satisfied.

it scared the hell out of you.

you were waiting, you realised, for shit to hit the fan. for joel to get bored with you. to get too busy. to come to his senses.

and, after all, the summer would be over soon, and you'll be back to your usual life. getting absolutely railed by your stepdad didn't exactly seem like something that was sustainable, long-term.

the two of you had never defined this, but you decided you needed a palate cleanser. something that'd catapult you back into the real world. if you ended up with a disappointing hookup, so be it. most hookups were, and the pornographically cinematic sex you were having with joel couldn't last forever. hell, you expected him to file for divorce any day now, and the likelihood of having any kind of relationship after he'd gone for good seemed very low indeed.

and so you decided that it was unhealthy to focus on only one person, especially when monogamy had never suited you, and the one person just so happened to be your stepdad.

you'd never deleted tinder but you couldn't remember the last time you'd opened the app. at this point, you'd convinced yourself you kept it because you thought of it as a kind of sociological study -- you endured because it meant you got to examine the extremes of human behavior and it was absolutely fucking fascinating.

so you scrolled aimlessly, appreciating the change in the pool of people that was your hometown, but quickly cursing yourself when you saw that a former student teacher of yours had just super liked you. horrifying.

you stared at your phone screen--swiping left on almost everyone, adjusting your filters to include ages 25-50, and feeling wholeheartedly disappointed at what tinder had to offer--until one face popped up. you'd almost swiped left by default, but stopped yourself just in time.

it's your old high school boyfriend, connor. not your first. not your last. but the most serious you'd had throughout high school, and definitively one of the best sexual experiences you'd had before your twenties. you'd ended things on good terms before you each went off to college.

his entire profile, you decide, is an assortment of green flags containing exactly what you need; looking for short term fun. social drinker and 420 friendly.

he's got a couple of goofy pictures, but he's aged well in the past decade, and you'd be down to find out if he's as good a lay as you remember. no possibility of falling in love; you're both only in town for the summer, nor are you looking for anything long-term. and, you add on to your mental list of reasons, he was never a creep, nor a murderer, and though that's a very low bar it's still nice to clear it. you can work with this. you swipe right and it's a match!

your mom has a girls weekend planned that you think might actually involve her and her friends, and joel told you he'll be out all weekend for his brother's bachelor party, so that's when you decide to set your date. it's nice to have the option to bring a guy back home and not have to worry about any awkward situations.

it's a friday night and you are all dolled up. your dress is tight, your tits look amazing, and the bar is lively. tonight is clearly the night to be out. there's a celebration going on in the corner with an incredibly drunk birthday girl scream-singing along to the music. pool tables packed. a group of men loudly complaining about the friend they're waiting for who's always late.

it doesn't take you long to spot connor. he's there, looking surprisingly good, leaning against the bar. a flash of dazzling white greets you when he catches your eye, grinning.

"hey," connor calls over to you, "it's been a minute! you look great!"

he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek and looks you up and down, eyes sweeping over the spill of your cleavage and cinch of your curves. you know you look good, and he knows it too.

"wasn't sure if this was still your drink," he tells you, passing you a mojito, "but this is for you."

"i can't believe you remembered!" you tell him--mojitos used to be your favorite-- "i usually go for something less sweet these days, but i still love em. thank you."

you take a sip and watch as he takes a big gulp of his beer. the condensation on the bottle drips down his thumb, a drop of moisture hanging on for a moment before falling. his arms are nicer than you remember, veins drawn in beautiful patterns, muscles tensing at seemingly the slightest movement.

yeah, you could fuck him.

he offers you a questioning half smile and you realise you've really just been staring at him, not sure how long for. "didn't realise how hot you'd gotten," you tell him, and he cracks up. any uncomfortable tension dissolves, and you relax into it. you're almost able to forget about joel miller.

you're having a great night. one drink turns to three and before you know it, you're on the dance floor, enjoying the sensation of connor's hands all over you--holding your waist, brushing your cheek, groping at your ass as you grind together, both of you hot and sweaty and feeling wonderful. you turn your face to connor and kiss him, hot and passionate, running your tongue along his perfect teeth. it's... nice. he lets out a little whimper, which you like, but where joel would've leaned in deeper, cupped your face, tangled his hands in your hair and growled into your mouth in response, connor pulls back and practically giggles. "you're so sexy, baby," he says, and that's all fine and good, but it's not as exciting as you'd hoped. it just feels bland.

but you've made the effort to come out, and you're not gonna give up just yet.

you kiss him again, trying to will a bit of passion into the exchange, but all of a sudden he's shoved aside by some asshole barrelling past and he's nearly knocked over.

"hey what the fuck!" connor shouts, and the person who shoved into him stops. turns to you both.

before you see his face, you know it's him. broad shoulders and a muscled back. patchy beard. great forearms. and his jaw is set in the most beautiful scowl you've ever seen.

"joel-" you gasp.

this wasn't part of the plan. why the fuck is he here?

then you notice the group of somewhat rowdy men in the corner, right in the direction he was heading. one of them calls over in his direction, and he holds up a finger before turning back to you.

this must be his brother's bachelor party.

connor looks between the two of you. "you know this guy?" he asks, and you nod. he turns to joel. "you need to watch where you're walking, man."

a muscle in joel's clenched jaw ticks as he stares him down, and connor takes a tiny step back.

"connor," you say, "this is, uh, this is joel. my stepdad. joel, this is connor."

"oh," connor says, "well, just be more careful next time. nice to meet you, man. joel."

he extends a hand, which joel blatantly ignores as he fixes you with a gaze.

"best be gettin' home, sweetheart," he says, tone colder than you've ever heard it before. you swear you can see a vein in his forehead pulsing. "it's getting late."

you raise your eyebrows. is he... mad? and if so, is this the best he can do? "joel, it's a friday night. i'm having a good time, and i'm gonna keep having a good time."

he stares you down.

"that alright?" you ask, a challenge.

he grits his teeth again and nods sharply, hissing out a fine, throwing one last glare at connor before he walks away rigidly.

connor frowns at you and you shrug, but you glance over at joel, watching him retreat.

now that you know he's here, at this bar, it's almost impossible not to keep looking over at him.

he looks strangely awkward over there, like he's trying to appear relaxed but is following a relaxation guide written by aliens. he's rigid. uncomfortable. a man clasps him on the shoulder (his brother?) and doubles over in a laugh, which he seems to join half-heartedly. you can see how he's holding his beer with a white-knuckled grasp. his shoulders have relaxed a little, but in a way that looks intentional. you're not sure if anyone else would notice, but you've watched joel a lot these past few weeks. you can see it. you don't know what that means.

as connor tells you all about his work, you catch joel looking at you, too. there are a few times your eyes meet and something would flash between you. if connor noticed that you were distracted, he didn't show it.

you're a few more drinks in, loose and warm, getting quite cosy, when connor's phone starts to buzz. he glances the name on the caller id and his eyes go wide. "i'm so sorry," he tells you, points at his phone, "a friend of mine's going through a hard time--i need to get this. excuse me a minute?"

"of course!" you tell him, and watch him head outside for some quiet.

it takes less than two minutes before you feel joel sidle up beside you. you know it's him before you even turn to look.

"hi, joel," you say, and he grunts in response.

you're silent for a moment.

"so," you try again, "you wanna tell me why you look like you've been chewing a lemon?"

he frowns. "huh?"

"sour," you supply.

he rolls his eyes.

"don't like seein ya with that boy."

"oh really?" you ask, "and how is that any of your business? has he offended you in some way?"

he shrugs. "just don't like it."

"i'm gonna try again, joel. what's your fuckin problem?"

he huffs out a breath. "a fuckin' kid like that's just tryin' to get his dick wet."

"i should hope so," you scoff, "that's kinda the point."

"seriously?" his voice drops to a lower register, "am i not takin' good enough care of you?"

"no, joel, it's not-"

he cuts you off, "hush, girl-" and despite the quiet of his words, now you notice the slight slur to them. "cos how i remember it," he tells you, "just a day ago you were cryin' my name, ridin' my cock."

you feel your face heat, but he keeps going- "would you let that boy fuck you raw? huh?" he doesn't even give you a chance to respond. "guess you really do take after your momma, huh? mother's a whore and her daughter is too."

"fuck you joel-"

"worst mistake of my fuckin' life getting mixed up with all this shit- with you-"

rage surges through you, shoving aside any embarrassment you felt earlier, and before you can stop yourself, you slap joel across the face.

the impact breaks something that's been building and you both reel back, deflated. you stare at each other for a moment in shock and silence. the place your hand made contact with him starts to bloom blotchy red.

joel rubs his jaw with his palm and winces. "okay, i deserved that," he huffs.

you soften just a little, "you did deserve that."

"i shouldn't be talkin' to ya like that," he groans, chastened, "not your fault. i've had too much to drink, i think. gonna stick with water the rest of the night."

"can we call a truce for tonight?" you ask. connor could be back any moment now and you aren't gonna do any of this in front of him. but as unreasonable as joel's being, you don't wanna hurt him. your anger has all but dissolved and you just want peace.

"sure," he says, "truce."

you smile, half-hearted.

"so, big bachelor party, huh?" you ask, nodding at his group still in the corner.

"hah," he breathes, "yeah. can't believe my little brother's gettin' married."

"which one is he?"

joel points. "over there. the one in th' button-down, currently double fistin' his beer."

you roll your eyes. "no wonder you're so fucked up. must run in the family," you say pointedly, and he knows he's not off the hook for his earlier jibe.

a pause.

"so, who is this guy?" he asks, and he notices you tense. "no, no, i'm not gonna- be more of an asshole."

"good."

"so?"

"his name is connor. we dated back in high school. just seemed like a safe option for a hookup. no strings, any of that."

joel hums. grimaces. "seems a bit young for you, hmm? you seem to like your men old and grey, not bright eyed and bushy tailed."

you snort and roll your eyes, "oh, fuck off."

the moment falls between you.

"look, joel. i don't know what- this is between us." you gesture between the two of you, "like, it's not... sustainable. i know that. you're married to my fuckin' mom, and that's not even touching our age gap."

he sighs. "yeah. i know."

"so, what is it you want? from me? from this?"

he huffs out a breath. "truth is, i don't know," he admits.

"well, you sure as fuck had better figure it out

"he finds out his wife's cheating on him, he fucks her daughter-"

"hey, don' say it like that-"

"-and then gets jealous at the thought of her daughter fucking someone else."

"hey now-"

"am i wrong?"

silence. an awkward cough.

"no," he concedes, "you're not wrong. and i don't know what this is, but i do know what i want."

"and what's that?"

"you."

you stare at one another. he leans towards you, his voice gravelly, barely above a whisper.

"i want you to forget all about that boy. i wanna make you feel good, as much as i can for as long as i can. i wanna make you come on my tongue, and my fingers, and my cock. i wanna hear you scream my name-"

your breath hitches and you can almost taste the whiskey on his warm breath as it tickles your cheek. joel's hand is gripping your arm now and the grip is a comfort.

of course, that's the exact moment connor reappears.

"hey, there, sorry it took so long! really glad i picked up-"

you and joel pull back, and mostly manage to pull off looking casually friendly, but connor misreads it entirely and looks between the two of you.

and then he turns on joel.

"get off her ass, old man," he hisses, "she's an adult, and you're not even her dad! she can stay out if she wants to!"

joel stares at him, wide-eyed, startled as hell, and you do your best to stifle a laugh at the idea of joel being your actual dad. yikes.

"it's okay babe," you reach out to connor, patting his arm to soothe him. "joel and i were just catching up. is your friend okay?"

his eyes dart between you before he tries to catch up. recalibrate.

"uh, yeah-" he says, "yeah he was having a hard time but i think he's doing better now."

another glance to joel. back to you.

"so, uh-" he ventures, tentative, "do you wanna get out of here?"

if it hadn't been for joel turning up at this bar, you'd say yes in a heartbeat.

but you know for a damn fact that isn't gonna happen now.

"ah shit, connor, i'm sorry. i'm feeling a bit off tonight, and i think i should call it an early night."

"oh."

"i'm really sorry, it really was nice to see you."

connor sighs, nods, and then flashes you one last dazzling smile.

"you too," he says, and leans in to press a kiss to your cheek. "take care of yourself, yeah? and if you ever wanna meet up again, just let me know."

you nod and watch as he walks away.

it's only a moment later that you feel joel's hand snake around your waist and hold you close to him. it's familiar and lovely, the callouses that trace across your skin.

'i think," you tell him, "you should tell your group you're heading out soon."

he looks over at the group and one of them waves at him with a confused expression on his face.

"and then i want you to meet me in the bathroom. single stall at the end of the hallway. don't make me wait more than ten minutes."

joel's mouth goes very dry very quickly, and he nods almost too eagerly. his pupils are blown and you can't get enough of the bead of sweat that rolls from his temple.

"good boy," you tell him and he gulps. turns away from you and back to his group.

you walk towards the bathrooms and catch his gaze and a brief nod as you walk by him.

you feel exhilarated. goosebumps prickle up and down your arms and your stomach flips in an excited swoop. you've inadvertently just swapped roles. you didn't tend to take the lead, at least not in this way. if anything, you tended to beg, please daddy, please fuck me.

after you close the bathroom door behind you, you take a moment to collect yourself. you adjust your hair, smooth out your dress, and wait.

a few minutes pass, and then--a knock at the door. three gentle raps; a rhythm you know so well.

you open the door, grab him by the collar, and pull him in.

he practically squeaks as he's pulled through, but then you're pressing him against the door and he melts under you. he lets out a long, throaty groan as your tongue drags along his jaw, your hands slapping his out of the way as you undo the buttons of his shirt and rake your nails down his chest.

"gonna put your money where your mouth is?" you ask. his brow furrows. "gonna make me feel good, daddy?"

"yes-" he moans and devours your mouth in a kiss. pulls away, breathless, "what do you want, baby, tell me--"

"mouth. and fingers."

"god yes-"

before you have a moment to react, he hikes the skirt of your dress up and backs you up against the sink. "get on up, baby," he says, and you do, hopping up onto the sink with your skirt around your waist and your panties on full display, damp and translucent with your slick. you lean back against the mirror and joel grabs at your thighs, spreading them wider apart.

when he sees how wet you are, he lets out a strangled moan. "jesus christ, honey-" he says, and drags his forefinger along your slit, through your panties, "you're gonna fuckin' kill me."

then he looks at you with those dark, beautiful eyes. searches your face. then drops to his knees.

he starts by mouthing against your panties, just his lips at first, but then he starts to lick and suck at you, sucking your slick from the fabric.

"cute panties," he tells you, and then he's got his fingers hooked on the waistband and pulls them down and off you, helping to lift your hips.

then, when they're off, he wraps them around his hand, buries his nose into his fist and inhales deeply.

"fucking hell, joel-" you breathe, and he turns a little pink, grinning sheepishly. fuckin' joel miller sniffing your panties. how is it that that's the hottest thing you've ever seen?

he doesn't liger too long, though. before you know it, his big hands are grabbing at your thighs again, holding you open. then he's tracing a fingertip along your cunt. prodding in, just a little. pushing your folds open and looking at how messy you already are. sloppily scissoring his fingers, opening you up

"needy little thing, huh?" joel asks and you nod.

leaving his fingers inside, he pulls the hood of your clit back with his thumb and leans in to kitten lick it. it leaves you writhing, but the grip of his other hand on your thigh helps keep you in place. he pulls back, just a little, and spits on your pussy. rubs it in with the thumb, giving you the most lovely pressure, extra slick exactly where you need it.

pumps gently, leaning back in to start licking you in earnest. after a few lazy pumps, he hooks his fingers in you and starts pressing into you with more speed, more urgency.

he pulls back for only a moment and you can see that his moustache and his bottom lip are glistening with your slick. he opens his mouth to praise you, telling you those perfect sounds you're makin' are drivin' me crazy, honey, love how you let daddy know just how good he's makin ya feel, that's it, don't hold back-

and suddenly you're coming.

despite the dullness from the alcohol, and the fact that you're propped up on a sink and just realising your back is smashed up against an uncomfortable knobby faucet--despite all that--waves of pleasure surge through you, hot and bright at your core, flowing across your entire body as you ride his fingers, practically sobbing his name.

your hips rock back up, forcing his fingers deeper into you, and he holds you tight as you ride it through.

for a moment, your vision is replaced with a million little black dots, but then the haze clears and you see joel kneeling in front of you, one hand with stilled fingers still inside you, the other, grasping your hip and holding on gently but firmly.

it takes you longer than you expected to come down from it, but after a few minutes you've gathered yourself.

joel's no longer fingering you, instead rubbing soothing circles to a sensitive bit right at the inside of your thigh. he's telling you lovely things, and you bask in the sensation of his closeness.. you notice his fingers feel funny, but you let out a giggle when you realise they're pruney from being inside you.

he notices what you're looking at and snorts. then thinks for a moment. decides.

"you got any plans tonight?" joel asks you.

"just connor," you laugh, and joel glowers, unimpressed.

"but no, this was much better. and i have no other plans tonight. got something in mind?"

he nods, and suddenly looks almost bashful. "i've got a hotel room. technically part of the bachelor party, but my room's at the opposite end of the hallway from the rest of the party."

you grin.

"i know-" he starts, "i know we hardly ever have a chance to sleep in a bed together. but this could be a chance. if you want?"

for the second time this evening, you grab him by the collar and pull him in for a kiss.

the hotel is really only ten minutes away, but it feels like about five million hours.

you're trying not to look recently fucked, and joel's trying not to let his enormous hard-on look visible through his jeans.

you both sit rigidly in the back seat of the cab. neither of you know if you're being too cautious, or not cautious enough, but you both want to keep whatever you're doing between just the two of you.

despite the distance, though, you can still feel the tug between you. you could cut the tension with a knife. it's only when you arrive at your destination do you feel like you can breathe again. you don't know how, but you know joel feels it too.

there was always the risk that joel's brother could, potentially, run into them in the elevator.

so, all things considered, it was a really, really stupid idea to fool around on the elevator ride to the tenth floor.

"think they have cameras in here?" you ask, and joel snorts.

"if they do, they'll be getting quite a show, huh baby?"

"yes daddy," you agree, and joel groans at your words, closing his eyes, his head tilting back to rest against the cool metal wall behind him. he feels you undo his zipper, unfastens his belt and the button of his jeans. then the wet warmth of your mouth is wrapped against the head of his cock and his groan turns into a shudder of absolute pleasure.

his pants are still up at his hips, cock hanging out impressively. you drag your nails along his thighs all the same, providing enough pressure so he doesn't lose sensation through the fabric.

his hands are tangled up in your hair as you pull his hips towards you, encouraging him to fuck your throat. he's getting frantic, when the elevator suddenly dings!

you break apart instantly and for a moment your stomach flips as you're certain someone else is about to walk into the elevator, but then you realise you've arrived at your floor.

joel composes himself, slicks his sweaty hair back and pulls his pants back up, pretending to ignore the enormous hard-on straining against the fabric.

"this way," he tells you, and you follow him.

any initial reversal of your usual roles becomes a rhythm of give and take. you're barely through the door before joel's grabbing at the hem of your dress and pulling it up and over your shoulders. unhooks your bra and tosses it to the floor.

he stands there and stares at you for a moment, mapping out every curve, every angle, every stretch mark. you're completely bare for him, your panties still in his pocket.

then he's on you, hands gripping your waist, your jaw, stroking over your breasts, fingers dragging over your bellybutton, cupping your pussy-- the sensation is overwhelming, almost too much. if someone told you he'd grown extra hands, you'd believe them; his touch is all over you.

"you feel so good baby," he tells you as his hands slide down to grab at your ass, "you sweet thing-"

you work at unbuttoning his shirt, shoving it off his arms. you pull off his belt, too, which he never rebuckled. shuck his pants down, drop to your knees.

but then he pulls you back up. "uh-uh," he shakes his head, "get on this bed right now for daddy. i wanna taste you while you taste me."

you scoot back onto the bed and lay down, your head near the pillows. joel walks around the bed and kisses you once more, deeply, and then he yanks off his socks and straddles your face.

"this okay baby?" he asks. his cock is thick and heavy and hanging against your cheek.

"yes, daddy-" you tell him, and move to take a tentative lick of his swollen head.

"good girl," he groans and stretches out. you grab his cock with one hand, gripping onto his hip with the other. you guide his cock in your mouth, relaxing and opening your throat just how you need to for this angle. the salty tang is perfect, and you can feel his body tremble.

then you can feel his breath on your abdomen as he trails kisses down and down and down and then his lips meet yours, his hands grip your ass, and he's pointed his tongue in the most delicious way as it flicks over your clit and then inside you. you're doing your best to stay focused on sucking his cock--you know he hasn't gotten off once yet tonight--but the sensation starts to build and build and build and it's all you can do to at least keep your throat open for him to fuck into as he brings you towards another climax.

he holds onto you as you come, as if any distance would cause you to disintegrate. you ride his tongue, dazed by the sensation, the brush of his beard, the way he's gotten loud and feral as he licks up the slick of your release. your thighs are wet, both from your own arousal and his spit, and as you come back to yourself, you know you need him to fuck you.

"joel-," you say, and he ignores you, continuing to lick at you.

"joel, please-," you beg, "need your cock so bad. need you to fuck me, to fill me up-"

he pulls back, "try again," and then dives in again.

"daddy, please!", you cry, and it comes out almost as a shout.m

"there's my good girl," he tells you, and swings his leg back over you so he's no longer straddling your face. he holds his dick and slaps it a few times on your cheek. "need this cock filling you up?"

"yes."

"better beg for it, baby girl."

you fucking love when he makes you beg, but you hate it too. he walks around the bed and then kneels on the foot of it. hooks his hands under your knees and pulls you towards him.

"need it, daddy. use this pussy, use me, please-" your begging has turned to whining, and joel's eyes are blown black, hard and beautiful as he looks at you.

"fill me up with your cum, take your pleasure from me, daddy, let me be so good for you."

in a single fluid motion, he yanks your knees up onto his shoulders and fucks into you in with a single long thrust.

you scream out, it's so much and so good.

"such a good girl, huh?" he asks you, cupping your jaw as he pounds into you. it's not soft, not languid, not gentle. he sets a brutal pace, his hips stuttering, cock ramming into you again and again and again. "sweet little toy for me to use, aren't you baby? keep that pussy open wide for your daddy, huh? so wet for me, you just wanna make daddy feel good, don'tcha?"

the sensation is too much, his coarse hair grinding against your clit as he fucks so deeply into you, sending sparks flying through you at the thought of it. he presses a palm into your belly, just below your navel, and the pleasure increases beautifully.

you've lost the ability to form coherent sentences, just "yes, yes, yes, so good daddy, so fucking deep, you're so big, such a big fuckin' cock, fuck!"

his moans have turned into strangled grunts, all his focus on getting himself off in you. you adjust your hips just a little and the angle allows him to press in just that little bit deeper.

"you love feeling me in here, don't ya?" he asks, pressing his fingers harder into your belly, pulling a moan from you you weren't expecting. his eyes flicker back to your face and his eyes crinkle, "takin' daddy's cock so nice."

then he moves his fingers back down to play with your clit again.

"gettin' close, baby," he tells you, "but i need just one more from ya. can you do that, pretty girl? come one more time on daddy's dick?"

you whine and writhe but you know you can--it's already building--and you tell him so.

"that's my good girl," he praises, his fingertips slick and teasing as he coaxes another orgasm out of you.

it hits you like a freight train, and suddenly you're spasming around him, sucking his cock almost deeper inside you, exploding with waves and waves of pleasure. you scream, and he lets out a strangled cry before he spills inside you.

it takes a few minutes before either of you move again. he pulls himself out gingerly, and you wince at the lack of fullness.

"took it so nice, baby," he tells you, and cupping a soothing hand over your pussy, being careful to avoid your clit or anything too sensitive. he pulls his hand away and looks at the mess on it, your come mixed together and dripping out of you. "so good for me."

then he kisses you, gentle, sweet and deep.

he runs a shower for the both of you and scrubs you both clean. it's possibly the most tender moment you've had with him, as he tucks a wet lock of your hair back, kissing you again as his softened cock presses against you and you let yourself savour the sensation of your bodies inhabiting the same space.

joel sorts through the linens and changes the sheets before you go to bed. it's unnecessary and oddly thoughtful, something you didn't really expect.

he wraps his arm around you, pulling you close as you snuggle in together. you can feel your eyelids growing heavy, but joel brings you back to him before you can drift off properly.

"you asked what this is between us. what i wanted."

you stay silent, waiting for him to continue.

"i-" he falters, "i still don't know. but i know that i care for you."

"joel-"

"and i know there's no place i'd rather be right now."

you let that sit for a moment. then turn and kiss him.

"go to sleep, joel."

"okay, pretty lady."

he pulls you close and you drift off in his arms.

[thetriumphantpanda]

nobody sees, nobody knows

Alright, here we are, me adding my two cents into the dbf!Joel trope which we all love so much. I've read so many incredible fics like this so hopefully mine can stand up with them all. This will be a series, so strap in for more of our favourite neighbourhood DILF.

Pairing | dbf!Joel x female reader

Summary | Back to Texas with a degree under your belt and a school girl fantasy to fuck your dad's best friend. What could go wrong?

Warnings | I mean, dbf!Joel comes with his own warning right? Other than that, swearing, alcohol consumption, age gap (Reader is 25, Joel is 36), dirty talk, and fingering.

Word Count | 3.3K

PART 2 | MAIN MASTERLIST

There was something about summer in Texas that just hit differently. The way the heat crawled on your skin from the moment you woke up to the moment you tried to sleep at night. The way your father used it as an excuse to cook primarily on the grill, regardless of the food, and the way your mother always made sure the fridge was stocked with cold drinks. The way traffic seemed to cease to exist during the high points of the day, meaning you went to the store every day at midday to buy ice cream. The haze you got from sipping cold beer by your parents’ pool which made you want to do reckless things like you’d done in New York before you realized that the beady eyes of your parents would be all over you if you tried. Reckless things like tell Joel Miller you’d wanted to fuck him for years. 

Every time you’d come home from school, and he’d be there you could have sworn he’d just gotten more and more attractive. The last time you were home, for Christmas and New Year’s, you could have sworn he’d started at the gym, his biceps bulging in the arms of his fitted t-shirt, when your dad commented on it, he's chalked it down to particularly heavy lifting on the job he was working then. He’d had his hair cut in a way that made his face even more handsome and you’re pretty sure the last few times you’d been home he’d noticed how you’d flourished too. 

There were moments where you’d catch his eyes as they drew themselves up your legs, or the time you decided to test your theory and wear a low-cut top and your best bra to a dinner party. His eyes had trained on your chest for most of the night, there was a moment where you’d stood up and leaned over the table to pick up the salt instead of asking him to pass it. He’d choked on his drink and your dad had slapped his back to try and help him. At least you knew he was thinking like you. 

Neither of you had tried crossing the line though. Past the point of no return. You wanted him to make the first move, save yourself the embarrassment of rejection if it came, but it felt like waiting for Joel Miller to kiss you was like waiting for rain in the drought Texas was currently experiencing. Useless and disappointing. You wished sometimes that you could burrow into his brain and figure out what it was that he was really thinking about you. You suspected there would be some code of honour he was sticking to because you were his best friend’s daughter – sure it might complicate things, but you weren’t going to be back in Texas forever – what was the worst that could happen during the secret, torrid affair you’d been cooking up in your head since you arrived back from college a week ago? 

 “Did you hear me when I spoke to you?” Your mother’s voice pulled you from the daydream you were having whilst polishing the cutlery. 

“Sorry mom, I was miles away.” 

“I know!” She exclaims, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you since you came back, you’ve been away with the fairies,” She sighs, “I said, once you’ve set the cutlery out back can you help your dad with filling the fridge with the beer, please?” 

You hum in agreement which is enough to send her back to the endless chopping she seems to be doing at the kitchen counter. It was just a cookout with the Millers and few other family friends to celebrate your return, but you think your mother thinks she’s catering for a garden party at the White House with the number of sides she’s preparing. 

You make quick work of the rest of the cutlery, wanting to avoid any more questions about why you seem miles away all the time – you can’t exactly tell your mother it’s because you’re thinking about how Joel might eat your pussy.

“Need any help, old man?” You greet your dad in the garage, he’s on his knee’s pulling out bottles of Budweiser to stack in the fridge. 

“Here, grab these and start putting them in,” He’s smiling, he’s always been an overly happy and laid-back man, “I hope we’ve got enough in.” 

“How many people are you expecting?” You chuckle, taking a bottle from him to add to the growing number already stacked on the shelves. 

“Probably ten or so,” Hu shrugs, “But one of those people is Tommy Miller and he’s not changed a bit since you’ve been away.” 

“Between your drinks and mom’s sides we could host the entire neighborhood.” You joke. 

You continue to fill the fridge up with drinks until there’s no room left. Your dad stores the leftover crates next to it for refilling throughout the evening, “Now, go and make yourself look nice, everyone’ll be here soon.” 

*

You’d be lying if you said that you hadn’t picked your shortest and lowest cut dress for the evening. It was a pale blue colour, with pink flowers dotted about the material. It fell to your mid-thigh and you had to keep reminded yourself to kneel down instead of bending over, in case people who you didn’t want to look caught an eyeful of the scant lace covering your ass. 

There are a few people milling around already, cold beers in hand, mainly some of your dad’s older friends, who have all congratulated you on graduating and then moved on to talk about mundane neighborhood gossip. 

“Now, where is that smartass?” You hear from the sliding doors; it’s Tommy and he’s bounding over to you to give you a hug. 

He scoops you up into a bone breaking hug, “Congratulation’s girl, your dad said you graduated top of the class!” 

He’s set you down and you can see Joel standing awkwardly next to him, “He’s exaggerating, I wasn’t top, although pretty close to it,” You turn to Joel, “Hey there.” He bends down to give you a one-armed hug and a peck on the cheek. 

“Good to see you back, sweetheart.” 

“Good to see you too, Joel,” You chirp in response, “Where’s Sarah?” 

“She’s at camp for the first part of the summer,” He explains, “Back in a couple’a weeks, she’ll be thrilled to see you again.” 

“Boys!” Your dad’s booming voice interrupts your conversation, “Good to see you both!” He turns to you, “Why don’t you go and get these two some beers, I need to speak to them about fixin’ up the attic.” 

You turn quietly and head for the garage. Of course, you’d become waitress at your own welcome home party. It takes no time at all for you to come back with three beers, two for the Miller brothers and one for yourself. You hand them off wordlessly, but you don’t miss how Joel grips the bottle just above your fingers, brushing against them. Of all the places for him to grab the bottle, that couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? 

The rest of the evening goes by as expected. You spend most of it running around helping your mom set the food out, fetching more beers for everyone and trying to field questions from everyone about what you’re going to do in Texas with an MA in Archival Studies. You bite your tongue every time, and reply with something like, “I think I’ll probably work in an archive.” 

The night is winding down, your mom already in bed having finished her wine too quickly, your dad sat outside in the quickly fading sunlight with Joel and Tommy and a few other stragglers. It fell to you to make aa start on the dishes, which is what you were currently doing. Rinsing them off over the sink before stacking them in the dishwasher, pausing long enough each time to take a sip of lukewarm beer. 

“They got you tidyin’ up your own party?” You hear from behind you. It’s Joel. 

“I’m the only one sober enough not to break anything.” You shrug without turning around to face him. 

“Seems a little unfair if you ask me, sweetheart.” 

“Well, why don’t you make yourself useful and help?” You counter, “Then I can be sat outside drinkin’ beer with you all.” 

You hear his boots on the floor and then he’s next to you, reaching around to grab the pile of cutlery on the side, he opens the dishwasher further to put the cutlery in their designated tray and then stop, “Has no-one ever taught you how to stack a dishwasher?” 

You pause in your rinsing to look up at him for the first time, “What do you mean?” 

“This is awful sweetheart,” He chuckles, “You’ve got the bowls and plates in the wrong place – you’ll be doing three washes if you carry on like this.” 

“Well, go on then, maestro, show me how to stack it.” 

He’s unloading everything you’ve put in so far, apart from what you suspect he thinks was his expertly placed cutlery, and you’re watching as he’s stacking in completely differently to you. Annoyingly he’s not wrong, the way he’s doing it means you’ll likely fit everything in at once, “Can’t believe you’ve lived on your own for five years and didn’t learn how to stack a dishwasher.” 

“Joel, I was in a dingy studio apartment in the ass end of New York, you think I had a dishwasher?” 

“Well, consider yourself taught now, I don’t ever wanna see a dishwasher looking anything less than perfect, you hear me?” 

“Loud and clear, Mr Miller.” You watch as his eyebrows raise at your new greeting, oh. He liked that. 

He picks up your almost empty beer bottle and hands it to you, “Go on, down the rest,” He’s grinning, “Then go and sit down and I’ll get you a fresh one.” 

You decide to push it a little further, “Yes, sir.” You watch as he swallows deeply at your words before you’re brushing past him, far too close than necessary to go and sit down. 

It’s another hour of sitting around in the garden before everyone else is gone – Tommy is finishing off his beer and telling Joel he’ll be heading to his to crash. 

“I’m going to call it a night too,” Your dad says, “Stay and finish your drink though Joel, there’s no rush, I’m sure this one can keep you company with her stories from New York.” 

And then you’re alone with him, finally. He’s taking a long drink from his beer bottle, which you mirror, realizing suddenly that you didn’t eat much, and you’ve drunk far more than you probably should. You’re not drunk, but there’s a pleasant buzz through your body that’s making your eyelids a little heavy. 

When the light goes off in your parents’ room, you figure it’s safe, “I’ve seen you staring at me, you know.” 

He doesn’t miss a beat, “You make it hard not to, sweetheart.” 

“Do you want me, Joel?” You don’t know where you’ve come from all of a sudden, but this confident girl isn’t someone you recognize. 

“It ain’t a question of wantin’ you sweetheart, it’s a question of doin’ the right thing.” You watch as he rubs his hand over his forehead in frustration. 

“But you do,” You push him, “Want me?” 

“Course I do,” He’s swallowing thickly again, just like he did in the kitchen, “But I can’t have you.” 

“Says who?” You pry. 

“Says the fact that I’m one’a your dad’s best friends, not to mention far too old for you.” He’s looking at you and taking another big drink from his bottle, like if he finishes, he can leave you alone. 

“No-one has to know,” You shrug, “Could be our little secret?” 

“You been readin’ too many of them romance novels,” He snorts, “It don’t work like that, if they find out they’ll fucking kill me.” He’s tilting his head to the window of your parents’ room.

You stand from your seat opposite him, walking around the table to stop just in front of Joel, “Come on Joel, have a little fun for once.” 

There’s a moment where you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, trying to weigh up being shot for touching his best friend’s little girl and finally satisfying the craving he’d wanted for a while now. Then, he’s putting his bottle down on the floor next to the chair he’s sat in. You watch closely as he shifts his position to sit more towards the edge of the chair, before one of his hands reaches out to grip the back of your thigh, just above the crease of your knee.

“You’ll be the death of me,” He mumbles before he looks up at you, “C’mere.” 

He’s pulling gently on your leg as he shifts back in the seat, guiding you so your hips are straddling his. You try not to press yourself too fully into him just yet, letting your clothed heat rest above his lap. One of his arms comes to wrap around the back of your waist, the other tangling in your hair at the back of your head whilst he looks at you with eyes that say he wants to devour you. 

“You gonna kiss me, Mr Miller?” You ask, innocently. 

“Oh darlin’, I’m gonna do so much more than that.” 

His head is tilting to the side and looking up at you from your higher ground, perched on his lap. Then his lips are on yours and God all those years of longing were worth it. They’re pressed tentatively against your own, but you can feel they’re slightly chapped. His hand resting in your hair grips a little tighter and he’s moving your head slightly so that when he opens his mouth against yours it’s the easiest thing for you to open yours right back and let his tongue into your mouth. 

You let out a gasp, swallowed into his own mouth when his hands drop back to your thighs before they’re trailing up the small skirt of your dress to cup the cheeks of your ass, “You wear this for me?” He pulls away, speaking before he’s trailing his lips along your jawline, “Thought you’d get me worked up in this tiny little thing, naughty girl?” 

“It worked, didn’t it?” 

He huffs a breath out of his nose as if to say, of course it did. He’s trailing his hot mouth down your neck now, dragging his teeth along your skin before licking with his tongue to soothe any red marks he might leave. Your head is thrown back as his hands drag you down so you’re sitting flush against him. You can’t help but notice the bulge in his jeans when your clothed pussy makes contact with him. 

You’re whining as his hands are on your hips under your dress, the hot skin of his hands setting fire to you, “What do you want, pretty girl?” He asks, his tongue trailing down to the valley between your tits. 

“Fingers,” You rasp, “Make me come with your fingers Joel.” 

He lets out a low chuckle against your skin, “Needy little thing, already beggin’ me to finger fuck her.” 

But he’s already obliging your request, one of his hands is moving down from your hip to the front of your panties, running his thumb over the material from top to bottom, “God, I can feel how wet you are already,” You look down and he’s grinning, “I’m gonna take these off, sweetheart, but you gotta promise to keep quiet okay?” 

You nod in agreement before you’re lifting your hips up, just enough for Joel to hook his fingers in the waistband of your underwear and pull them down enough so his hands can touch you. He mimics the same movement he’d done over the material, this time his fingers touching the bare skin of you seam and he’s groaning when he feels the slick gathered near your tight hole. 

“God, you really are wet, aren’t ya?” He chuckles, a flush creeping over your cheeks, “Ain’t nothing to be embarrassed about sweetheart,” He reassures, “Means I’m doin’ somethin’ right.” 

You feel one of his thick fingers slip inside you, just a little, before he’s dragging the slick he’s gathered up to run light touches over your clit. You bite down on your lip to keep you from crying out into the dark, hips bucking into his hand to try and get more friction from his fingers. He takes the hint and is pressing his finger more firmly into your bundle of nerves and it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to keep quiet. 

When Joel’s hand drops from your clit you almost cry from frustration, put then he’s sinking two of his fingers straight into your soaking pussy and the relief is palpable. He’s moving them in and out of you, curling them in just the right way that has your hips moving in time with him, literally fucking yourself on his fingers. You let your head fall into the crook of his neck, placing kisses to his skin as you ride his fingers. 

“This what you wanted, pretty girl?” He asks, his free hand coming to cup the back of your head against his neck, at least this way you could make some noise – testing out your theory you let out a throaty moan, listening carefully as his skin muffles most of the sound. 

“I need… god Joel, my clit, please.” 

With his fingers still buried inside you, working you to the edge, his thumb moves to your clit, resuming the circles his finger had been drawing over it before, “I can feel your pussy gettin’ tight around my fingers,” He’s turned his head so it’s buried in the hair at the side of your head, “You gonna come for me, sweetheart?” 

You push back from him a little, looking down between your bodies where you can see his hand working you and that’s really all it takes. Your legs are shaking and you’re biting down on your lip hard enough that you can taste blood as pleasure bursts through you – not even you had made yourself come like this. Ever. Joel’s fingers have stilled inside you, but he’s still tracing your clit with gentle movements of his thumb, reveling in the way you jerk through the aftershocks of your orgasm. 

“Did so well for me, pretty girl.” He coos at you once he’s pulled his hand from your pussy. 

You’ve collapsed onto his chest to catch your breath, but you’re already subconsciously grinding your hips into his, God you want more. You’re about to reach for his belt when you can feel something vibrating in the pocket of his jeans. 

He’s mumbling an apology, lifting you just enough to fish his phone from his pocket. He answers without looking at who is calling. You can hear Tommy’s voice through the phone from your place, draped over Joel’s lap. 

“You just turn it to the side, jackass,” Joel is mumbling in answer to Tommy’s question on how to work his shower, “You’ve used it a million times,” Tommy say’s something you can quite make out, “No, not that one, the one underneath it,” Joel is sighing, “You were not this drunk when you left, if I find you’ve finished the good whiskey I’m gonna kill you,” Another sigh to a question you couldn’t quite hear, “Fine, I’ll be there in a minute.” 

Disappointment is pooling in your stomach. You don’t want him to go, not when there’s so much unfinished business here, “I gotta go, sweetheart.” He’s mumbling, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. 

“But what about this?” You ask, reaching between you to cup his cock through his jeans, “Let me help you.” 

His hand is gripping your wrist, “I would love nothin’ more, but I gotta go before Tommy floods my house,” Another kiss to your lips, “Next time.” 

“You want to do this again?” You ask, almost surprised. 

He takes the hand that had been buried in your pussy not minutes before, lifting the fingers he’d fucked you with to his mouth before sucking them right in front of your face, “Now I’ve gotta taste for you, sweetheart?” He raises an eyebrow, “Of course I wanna do this again.” 

[growth-opportunities]

Your wife gave you a hall pass for any woman over an L cup. She couldn’t possibly fathom the idea that such a woman could exist!

When I agreed to it, I suppose I never fully believed that he'd meet someone that busty. I was a G cup and I just assumed that I'd be the biggest tits my husband would ever see in person. And playing up his obsession, leaning into the fact that just a bit of cleavage was enough to get him riled up, was so intoxicating and empowering. So, with his cock buried in my cleavage, I looked up at him and said, sure, if he ever met someone nearly halfway down the alphabet in cup sizes, he could hook up with her. Just the potential of it was enough to make him cum as hard as I had ever seen him. It was honestly a little hot, but I pushed those thoughts aside. He thanked me and called me the best wife ever. I just chuckled and stroked his hair while he suckled and relaxed. Best wife ever for agreeing to something that would never happen? Sure, I'll take it.

As weeks went by, I occasionally reminded him of the arrangement just for a quick power trip, smirking as his body reacted to the prospect. To me, at least, there was no concern about him following through on it, so I didn't feel any shame in teasing him about it. Winter faded into spring and, as the weather warmed, we shed our thick coats. It was around that time when I was at the end of the driveway, fetching the mail, and I saw our neighbor Anne digging in her garden. I gave her a shout and a wave and, as she turned around, my jaw dropped open.

Up until that moment, I had known her as a tiny, waifish thing. She was 5'0 in heels and her slight frame made her B cups look big, but that was all there was to her. Her curly brown hair and her bright smile were the biggest things about her. Now a pair of massive breasts bulged out of a slightly inadequate bra, putting her overalls through their paces. DD, I'd later find out. Not big enough to properly threaten my own large bust, but a significant growth, especially for someone otherwise so small. Over tea at her place a week or two later, she confided in me that her body was undergoing a sort of second puberty, except everything that was supposed to make her grow taller or wider was simply being fed back into her tits to make them huge. I gradually came to understand my husband's obsession, seeing her tits grow a bit more every time I saw her. I could tell when she upgraded to a new bra and when, a few days later, she was in desperate need of another.

Last summer, Anne had invited me over to sunbathe out by her pool and the offer was renewed this year. Except, this time, my superiority was replaced by a sense of awe. They were massive. They had to be bigger than mine by now. And the way that dominated her torso, bigger than her own head... Watching her lather them in suntan oil was almost a religious experience. My hips squirmed on my pool chair, my thighs rubbing together, trying for any kind of stimulation. My fingers twitched as I imagined kneading them, squeezing them, matching her movements as my hands moved over her skin. Even my lips tingled at the thought of sucking on them. If my bikini bottoms had been a lighter color, the wet spot would have been painfully obvious.

Once I came to terms with her growth and the fact that she might be big enough for my husband to call in that agreement, I couldn't stop thinking about it. Couldn't stop thinking about his cock between her tits, his big hands kneading while he suckled with greedy abandon. Couldn't stop thinking about how roughly he would worship her little body, pouring every ounce of devotion he had into her massive, growing bust. Thinking of her tits jiggling and bouncing as he thrust between them was enough to make me slink off to the bathroom at work and rub one out, too overwhelmed to stop myself. By now, all other questions had been silenced. I really only had once concern:

Would they let me watch?

[starberry-cupcake]

Here we are again!! Let's get to it!!

previously, in noni del 9:

this happened

this is the tag for all tlt recaps

I'm loving that many of you are adopting the "está en un cumple" phrase, living for that

CHAPTER 4 (seventh house skull 👀)

it's another day in this planet and everyone's up for their routines

they all travel together, then pyrrha goes on her way to work

camolive go on their way to do what they do

undetermined what it is they do, to nona's pov

camilla can do whatever she wants, though

you go queen

and nona goes to school for her unpaid job of assistant

when she gets there, kevin is playing with plushies

we love kevin

and hot sauce is staring out the window in suspicion like this

how many cartoons with eccentric kids in school can I use to illustrate? we'll see, I have a lot to pick from

anyway, apparently there's people watching from another building

0 discreet, if kids are spotting them

this, coupled with the seventh skull, gives me ideas

so nona asks if they're watching her, to which hot sauce goes "why would they?"

nona says she doesn't know

not sure if she says this because she's in a cumple, as previously established, or because she doesn't want to give too much away to hot sauce

who seems to have all the brain cells of the school

hot sauce is on the case, though, and says she'll investigate

but has to delegate that to nona during science class, because nona has dog privileges and can go outside to the blasting heat to see if something happens

today was the first pool day of the summer for me, so I feel that and thank her for her service, because heat is terrible

also, the science teacher, aka the angel, comes in looking as worse for wear as daniel craig in the majority of the movie queer

here everyone has weird names

except for kevin

we love kevin

you know, that might be why I'm having trouble with this one, I feel like I'm not in my element enough in these recaps

because everyone has weird names already and I can't do my bit

I'm failing you, I'm sorry

my power is wasting away

so, anyway, the teacher is not looking good and nona thinks maybe it's a hangover but hot sauce says the teacher doesn't drink

nobody questions her knowledge

ever

are they torturing the teacher for information on nona????

have they been spotted????

also, everyone says nona isn't pretty and nona insists on her being pretty, which makes me feel like this is gideon in harrow's body, but who knows

it'd definitely be fun if she is and has to own up on all the times she's said she's beautiful and kissed her in the mirror and whatnot

camilla wrote like 6 pages about that, which harrow should read, if that's the case

the only thing nona sees on her stakeout is a person who she thinks might be a dead body, because they're very still

but decides they aren't, because their nice clothes weren't stolen from them

I'd think the exact same thing, that's sound judgment imo

and the person isn't there when they leave, so that's disquieting

a worse thing than a sus person is not knowing where the sus person went

CHAPTER 5 (nine house skull!!! everyone stay calm!!!!)

nona and camolive go back to their apartment

I'm picturing something between the infinity fortress from getbackers or the heaven's arena from hunterxhunter

(camilla would kick absolute ass in both of these)

anyway, nona is instructed to try doing bone stuff

she asks what camolive were doing and when they said talking with friends, nona asks about "crown", who she says she loves

I assume "crown" is coronabeer because corona is crown in spanish and nona knows multiple languages

she describes her as: smelling like cinnamon, having nice hair, having nice breasts and being big and pretty

that could very well be coronabeer, so I'm sticking to my hypothesis here

palmolive says that they're not friends with coronabeer right now, which ok?????

I think coronabeer was going full BOE last time we saw her? but judith was not, so idk what's happening over there

ALSO

this is the first time I remember hearing coronabeer described as "big"

I think I, of all people, would remember that

I'm immediately giving her extra points for that

I'm not looking into fanart yet for spoiler reasons but I'm gonna take this one adjective and run with it because I'm starved for representation, ok? ok

palmolive writes down about the "breasts" comment, which I'd also write down, because that's such a gideon thing to say and focus on

I don't think harrowbean has been preoccupied with boobs quite as much as gideon has

also, nona doesn't remember why she knows what cinnamon smells like

in my top 3 smells (I have such a list), cinnamon is my nr 1, so coronabeer is winning a lot of points with me on this day

who would have thought????

making a new version of this meme I dropped on this recap with her new name

they also talk about "the captain" and palmolive says he doesn't like her too much

so that's judith

I stopped being super hard on judith when I found out she was as much of a gay disaster as most people in these books

in other news, palmolive can do some necro stuff still and it doesn't hurt camilla when he does it

which is what's really important here and what really matters

they have the timer so that palmolive doesn't hurt camilla by overstaying his welcome in the temple of perfection that is her body

apparently, the blue light in the sky doesn't hurt camolive either

nona says she loves camilla and how she moves

also gideon behavior

the first time gideon saw camilla fight, she thought she was friend-shaped

I mentioned it on this recap

palmolive agrees about camilla's moves and says he misses seeing her

now you know how I felt during half of harrow, palmolive, it was painful

you were in a man cave in the river at the time, but still

ANYWAY, IT'S LOVING CAMILLA TIME

EVERYONE, GET IN LINE

pyrrha is immune to the light in the sky because she's a lyctor

(they don't use that word)

but she has "the wrong soul"

because og!gideon and her switched and he died

(they don't say that explicitly but I'm filling in the gaps)

nona asks if she has the wrong kind of soul or the wrong kind of body

which we don't know, neither palmolive nor me

she also asks if that's why BOE doesn't want her and palmolive says that they do

and nona adds that she likes commander we suffer

who was named in the dramatis personae aka guest list at the start

and she's part of something palmolive calls "ctesiphon wing"

palmolive has mixed feelings about all of these people which, I guess, in this social context, being a necro narc undercover would do that

not that palmolive would be fighting for emperor asshat anymore, but I assume there's tension between the sides still, being the oppressors and all

which might make things somewhat easier for coronabeer, since she wasn't really a necro to begin with?

judith is probably fucked, though

rip judith

nona says that palmolive doing necro stuff makes her sad, which is kind of what I'm saying

I'm guessing regular folks here would hunt necros for sport if they could, as evidenced by the kids

palmolive tells nona to give camilla a kiss in the second right-hand knuckle

and, apparently, this falls into the "nona can read, understand and replicate body language to perfection in an instant" category

because she apparently did this the first time and camilla had a bit of a breakdown about it

they give me qpr vibes, camolive

I'd marry them as a package if they'd have me anyway, I'm not backing out because palmolive is suddenly an addition

I passed the sixth house audition, maybe I can pass this one, who knows

I can write a detailed CV with color coded references to what I can provide to this association

ANYWAY

under the "nona can read people's bodies and replicate things" umbrella, gestures fall right in

she's in a cumple and she can read people's bodies and gestures and replicate them as well as tell if someone's full of crap and lying their asses out

and she likes coronabeer's boobs

all important details to think about

and that's it for now!!!! see you on the next one!!

[floralcyanide]

ᴄᴀᴍᴘ ᴄᴏᴜɴꜱᴇʟᴏʀ!ᴄᴀʟʟᴜᴍ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇʀ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

Some cute, romantic, or funny moments I think would happen if you and Callum Turner were camp counselors together.

warnings: mentions of injuries, cuteness overload, smoking, mentions of drinking

author’s note: I had so much fun writing this (: here's the camp counselor au for everyone to read!!

masterlist | divider credit: @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

✦ the first day, you’re so nervous you almost get physically ill, but then you see Callum, and all your nerves about counseling a bunch of tweens go away

✦ Callum smiles at you and compliments your ballcap, which has your favorite baseball team emblem on it 

✦ the first time the kids go swimming in the pool at the campgrounds, you warn them and the other counselors about sunscreen. it was nearing 100 F, so the sun was merciless. they all listen except Callum of course, who brushes you off despite his obviously fair skin

✦ he ends up looking like a lobster and is viciously ill that night, skipping dinner. you look after him and get to know him better. he tells you about how he used to burn as a kid and it was never this bad. you laugh at that and point out that he should’ve learned his lesson back then, to which he agrees with a sigh

✦ the camp lasts all summer, so you made sure to bring literally everything you could possibly need- like bug spray. you brought plenty for you and the kids in case they needed it

✦ it’s hiking day, and everyone applies the bug spray except, of course, Callum. he ends up with bug bites everywhere visible on his body that evening. you tell all the kids in your group to point and laugh at him when he enters the mess hall for dinner. Callum rolls his eyes, scratching at his arm. all the kids yell at him to stop or he’d scar

✦ karaoke by the campfire night is fun and games until Callum breaks out the guitar and blows everyone away with his talent. everyone applauds him, and your crush only worsens when he looks at no one but you the whole time.

✦ Callum freaks out when one of the boys in his group has peanut butter as a dare during mess hall when he’s allergic to peanuts. like full on panicking and nearly crying and you have to calm him down

✦ painting class where Callum decides to poke your cheek playfully and you have no idea he had paint on it until much later 

✦ then there’s that night at the lake. after that, you both grow closer. you sneak kisses when others aren’t looking and sometimes meet at the dock for a cigarette in the middle of the night. you hate the smell of cigarettes but they remind you of Callum now

✦ there’s a night where the head counselor rallies the kids to bed a little earlier so all the counselors can have an adult gathering. controlled, of course. wine coolers and such- nothing too hard. but Callum takes it too far as always. he gets handy with you and you have to scold him so no one figures the two of you out

✦ Callum singing the Campfire Song from SpongeBob at a bonfire one night, and none of the kids know where it’s from, but you and the other counselors sing it at the top of your lungs 

✦ you and Callum patching up a kid who fell and skinned their knees and scolding them gently for running when not necessary 

✦ Callum makes you something in pottery class, and you almost cry at the thought of him making you something. no boy- or man, rather, had done anything like that for you

✦ you definitely exchange numbers and stuff for after camp and agree to meet up and hang out before both of your college campuses start classes back up

✦ you and Callum work together to remove a series of stingers from the same boy who ate peanut butter while allergic because he was dared to touch a beehive on a hike

✦ you end up hurting your ankle on one of the hiking days, and Callum helps nurse it with ice and elevation in your room while everyone else you bunk with is away

✦ Callum confesses he really likes you and obviously didn’t want that one night to be a one-time thing. he asks you if you’d like to be his after you leave camp, and you say yes (obviously)

✦ Callum playfully makes fun of you for crying when the kids start leaving to go home, but then he also starts tearing up

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 6 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

warnings(s): 2004 was not a good time for the gays. homophobia persists. insecurity about weight and insulting oneself about it.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 7

You dipped into your savings and got Regina a new, fancy moisturizer. You couldn't count on her using it instead of the lard, but well. Guide a horse to water, can't make it drink, and all that.

You didn't tell her about the Homecoming prank, though. She'd been pissed about that. Not for long, because then it turned into a sort of trend at Northshore and it only boosted her popularity.

You were perhaps more upset about it. Upset you'd let it happen, upset they'd done it in the first place, upset Regina stood there with Aaron. He didn't even look like he wanted to be there.

Regina managing to turn it around for her benefit didn't stop you from feeling bad. It was the principle of the thing. You'd taken some distance from her. Everybody, actually. People just didn't feel all that great to be around. You were betraying Regina by letting her be essentially bullied by Janis, you were tolerating Regina's abusive reign over the student body, Aaron was getting on your last nerve by simply existing, and your mom's death anniversary was coming up.

You went to the Georges' less. Regina came to yours when you didn't lie about having to catch up on homework or doing a project. You did do some yard work for them since you still needed the extra cash. Just basic things like raking leaves and doing small repairs here and there. You also covered the pool with Mrs George's help.

"Whew, I forget what a chore that is every year!" She wiped at her forehead. You laid on the grass, chest heaving. You'd carried maybe seventy per cent of that thing.

"You said it, Mrs George." You managed to get out.

"How many years have I been telling you to call me Jude. Or just mom." You looked up at her. She looked so much like Regina. Or Regina looked so much like her.

She'd known your mom. Cried harder at her funeral than your dad or even yourself. You hadn't really gotten it, at that point. She'd hugged you tight and told you what an amazing woman she was, that she hadn't deserved to go yet. She sent you food for weeks after, which you appreciated because dad was too busy sorting stuff out to cook for you.

She'd been more of a mom to you than your own had ever gotten to be. Still, it felt wrong to call her anything other than Mrs George. It was weird. Word association gone all wrong. Mom meant a casket being lowered into a hole on a bleak November day, an echoing house and an empty kitchen, sad and wistful things. Mrs George meant afternoons spent running around in the backyard, eating 'till your belly was full to bursting, happiness and summer.

"Many, many years." You groaned as you got up. "Is Reggie home?"

You figured it would be weird if you didn't go say hi, at least. You didn't want to cut her out entirely. It was just hard being around her when the weight of your own actions, and inactions, weighed on your shoulders.

She smiled in a way that told you she'd noticed your deflection. "In her room."

"Great. Oh, by the way, what did you do with the apples this year?"

"I convinced Rick to donate them to the women's shelter downtown. They'll be put to good use there."

"That's awesome," You put your hands to your hips and looked around. "Anything you want me to do?"

"I'll just hose down the rose bushes, you head on inside. Avoid the living room, Rick's on a conference call." She waved you off with a smile.

You trod through the house carefully, shoes in hand. You knew the Georges were a shoes-on household, but it just never felt right for you to walk on carpeted floors with your shoes on. What if you had stepped on dogshit? What then?

"Reg?" Her door was open a crack, so you peeked in. "You decent?"

"Yes, I'm decent." You could hear the eye roll in her voice. "What do you want?"

Yikes. She wasn't happy.

You walked in and closed the door behind you. She was on her bed, reading a book on her belly. She was snacking on some candy bar.

"I just came to say hi. I put the pool cover on with your mom." You walked up to her. "What're you reading?"

"I could hear you huffing and puffing all the way up here." She turned on her side to look at you. "The Catcher in the Rye. It's boring."

"I dunno, I liked it." You climbed in hesitantly. When she didn't protest, you settled down on your side facing her, head leaned against your palm.

"You've read it?" She tossed the book on the floor next to the bed, now giving you her full attention. "Can you write my paper?"

"Depends on how much you'll pay me." You grinned and rubbed your fingers together like you were handling cash.

"Boo, you whore." She pouted. "Aren't we supposed to be beyond that?"

"I don't do charity, my friend." You flopped onto your back and crossed your arms. Shit, she had a comfy bed. So soft but just firm enough, too. You let your eyes close. You were so tired from all that physical labour.

"Get off my bed, you traitor." You opened your eyes too late. She was already on you, pushing you, and you had no time to resist until you were toppling onto the floor. You clambered down in a mess of limbs and sheets, which you'd grabbed in your desperate attempt to stay aboard.

"Reg! Your bed is actually high up! Help me!" You felt like Mufasa clinging to the face of the cliff, fingers digging into the slippery bedding. One of your legs was still on the bed, but not securely enough that you would've been able to pull yourself to safety.

"Just put your leg on the floor, dumbass." She cackled, watching you panic over such a small drop.

"No, look, it's not that- close." You lowered your leg and your knee made contact with the floor. Regina fell back, gasping as she laughed. "Shut up, you teapot!"

"No! I'm not-" She tried to stifle the laughs escaping her, the real wheezing ones she didn't let out of their cage willingly, but one look at you set it off again. "Your hair!"

You lifted your hands to your head. "It's not my fault your sheets are fucking static."

By the time Mrs George came to inform you that she'd be starting on dinner, thus signifying you should probably go, Regina had stopped laughing, if just barely.

"Have you been using the moisturizer I gave you?" You tried to analyze her face. It didn't look any less flawless than usual.

"Yeah, it's really great. My old night lotion started smelling weird for some reason. Maybe it expired early or something." You just hummed in response.

"I should probably go home and make myself dinner too."

"I'll walk you down."

You walked down the stairs and to the backdoor, avoiding the living room despite the blaring of the TV. Mr George was definitely not on a call anymore.

"What're you making today?" Regina asked, standing somewhat awkwardly on the porch.

"Probably tacos. I found a great deal on some corn tortillas at the store. They're all going bad today, so. Gonna stuff myself."

"Save some for me, yeah?"

You weren't sure what she meant by that. "Sure."

You walked home and as you'd said, got started on dinner. Moving around the kitchen without Regina there in the way, chopping whatever vegetables into misshapen cubes, felt weird. She wasn't over that often, but you'd gotten used to it regardless.

It was perhaps your biggest flaw as a person, how intolerant you were to being alone. Ironic, considering how much time you had to spend alone.

If it was up to you, you would've made Birria tacos with a good cut of sirloin, but you didn't have the money for fresh cuts of beef. Besides, you hadn't even started on the stew, and that took a whole day. So, you settled on some basic ground beef filling. You had made Pico de Gallo earlier that day, so it was nice and flavourful by the time you were constructing your tacos.

Back when you'd still needed a babysitter, there had been this one Mexican lady who appeared on the roster most often. It was so long ago you couldn't remember her name. She'd made you call her Abuela. She was sweet and taught you the wonder of Latin American cuisine. From what you could understand, she'd been well-travelled and really loved food everywhere.

She stopped coming when all of your babysitters did. The last time you saw her, you hadn't known it would be the last time.

This time of year really made you a monster. A dull grey, depressing monster. You'd have to find some exciting hobby because even you were getting sick of this. Maybe cliff jumping?

A knock on your door was the last thing you expected when you were finally ready to chow down. Making such a huge amount of food took time.

"What?" You barked to whoever dared to disturb you. "Oh, shit."

"Is that how you greet all your dinner guests?" Regina asked, batting her eyelashes. She had on a deep red dress, shiny satin that licked at the curves and edges of her body just right. It reached all the way to her feet, where you could see black heels peeking out from under the hem. She stood taller than usual, but still so short you could see above her head. The dress was strapless as far as you could tell as her jacket was covering her shoulders. Sweetheart neckline and a clutch to match. She had a thin gold chain around her neck with a small R-charm on it. Gold hoop earrings, hair done up in curls.

A grin crept up onto her face as you continued to gape at her visage. "I know, right?" She posed, one hand holding the clutch at level with her thigh and one poised at her waist. "I'm so sexy."

"Yeah, uh, yes, you are." You stuttered, stunned and flustered. You wanted to touch her, feel the fabric of the dress with the tips of your fingers, grab a hold of her and press close to her. She looked so fucking good.

"Thanks, baby." She took a couple of steps forward to reach you and, nonchalant as could be, brushed her hand at your shoulder as if she were brushing off dust.

Your knees wobbled.

"I have dinner for us." You blurted out. "I, uh..." You needed to pull it together. "I'm gonna go change."

"You do that," Regina said with an indulgent smile. You shot up the stairs.

When you came back down, still tucking your shirt into your trousers and tie undone, Regina was sitting on the couch perusing a magazine. It was probably from last year or something, you didn't exactly update the stuff under the coffee table.

You coughed to get her attention. "Ready for dinner, Reggie?"

"Ugh, don't ruin the moment. Anything other than that."

"I'm Jorts and you're Reggie, that's how it's been." You reminded and gently plucked her clutch from her hands before gesturing for her to turn around. She did, looking a little confused. When you reached to take her jacket off, she recoiled.

"Um, I would like to keep it on." She said, the confidence from before diminishing.

"Oh, why?" You asked. "Are you cold?"

"No, it's just, um..." Regina George stammering. You didn't think you'd live to see the day. "I don't look like I used to before."

"What does that mean?" You checked her out, toes to forehead. Drop-dead gorgeous as always.

"I've gained a bunch of weight." She looked down as if she needed to be ashamed. "I barely fit into this gown. I had to suck in even with the Spanx. And I still look like a whale."

As much as you would've liked to be incredulous and loud about just how wrong she was, it didn't seem like the right course of action. She was being open and vulnerable with you.

"I don't think you look like a whale." You stepped close to her tentatively. You set the clutch on the coffee table. Then, just as tentatively, circled your arms around her. You slotted your fingers together at her lower back and pulled her to you so that your bellies touched.

"I couldn't hug a whale." You pointed out helpfully, leaning back slightly to still look her in the eyes. "I'd love to see the dress in its full glory."

Regina, hands fussing with unmade your tie, bit her lip in contemplation.

"Careful, don't mess up your lipstick." She rubbed her lips together at that, a smile threatening to break out.

"Fine. But you can't laugh or stare or anything."

"I swear." You put one hand on your heart and the other up. "Now turn around."

She did as you asked. "You're being awfully chivalrous."

"It's what you deserve, Reggie." You crooned jokingly, pulling the jacket from her shoulders. The dress was cut elegantly so that there were no straps, but bits of fabric hanging by her upper arms. Cold-shoulder. You hoped the jokes in your tone hid how nervous you were.

"What did I just say?" As if that little moment between you two hadn't even happened, she was right back to her normal self.

"Fine. But you'll always be my Reggie. I guess tonight we can pretend." You sighed. "Whatever you say, honey."

"Better." She turned and tugged at your tie. "Now, let's get you sorted."

"I had very little notice, okay?" You grumbled but bent down obediently so she'd have an easier time tying your tie. You'd used to play dress up mixed with house all the time. You'd nearly always been the dad and so, you had to wear a tie. Obviously. Mrs George had gotten tired of constantly being asked to do it, so she'd taught Regina.

Now, it felt a little different. For one, you were taller. Secondly, this wasn't a children's game. Maybe you were playing a little bit, pretending, but it didn't quite feel like that. There was something undeniably real about this.

"There." She said once she was finished, smoothing it out against your chest. "You couldn't find one matching the dress?"

"You're impossible to please." You chuckled. "I'll make sure to go tie shopping as soon as possible."

"Good." She liked to ignore your sardonic tone pretty often. "Now, what's on the menu?"

You tucked the rest of the shirt into your pants and, voila, you were done.

"Tacos, my lady." You offered up your arm half in jest. She hooked her wrist into the bend of your elbow with an incline of her head. Clearly, she was a girl that liked to be wined and dined.

You snuck a bottle from your dad's wine collection, hoping it wasn't some speciality. Looking at the label, it wasn't very old. Wine quality was assessed like that, right?

You ate your fills and then some, drinking wine all the while, then retreated to the couch to recover, and turned on the TV to watch while eating dessert. Sharing a pint of ice cream, curled up on the couch in fancy clothes, warm and away from the cold of late November, you wondered what had brought this on.

It wasn't an official date, that much you knew. Regina wasn't a lesbian like you. Maybe she was indulging you. That would mean she knew you had a crush on her. You hoped that wasn't true. Regina was an observant person, though. Fuck, that'd be humiliating.

It didn't feel like she was playing with you. It looked like she was having as much fun as you. Maybe she wanted to have a nice, romantic dinner without the pressure of having to impress or perform for her date.

It was nice she'd chosen you. Regardless of why she'd come here tonight, you were just glad she was with you. You'd had a lot of people leave, most of them never coming back. The exceptions to the rule were Regina and your dad. They were similar in that, but nothing else. When dad came back, he brought with him a never-pleased frown and a stifling presence. When Regina came back, she brought light.

She had her flaws. You had yours. Thanksgiving was right around the corner and Christmas would soon follow. You had no doubt that Janis had something nefarious planned for at least one of those events. Nothing was sure, things were undecided.

"I'm going for a smoke." You said when the episode ended.

"I'm coming with."

"You won't be getting one."

"I don't want it anyway. Cigarettes taste like shit."

You laughed and walked to the backdoor. Through it and onto the patio, you slumped onto the bench swing. Regina followed a lot more gracefully, heels chucked somewhere in the house, bundled up in the blanket she'd claimed as hers since the first time she slept over. She sat next to you and spread it over both your laps. You hummed in thanks and lit up.

Regina might've been a massive bitch. She had, and there was no denying it, done some awful things. And maybe it was fucked up for you to like one part of a person and not the whole of them, but did that count if you were sure that the undesirable part was all a facade?

"So..." You started. "Better than any of the dates Aaron took you to?" You couldn't help but ask. Veiled under a joke, you hoped your jealousy didn't show.

"Don't be cocky." She admonished, resembling her mom almost creepily. "He didn't really take me out."

"What? Why?" If you could openly date Regina there wouldn't be a limit to how much you'd be taking her out, showing her off to anybody who'd listen.

"How should I know?" She shrugged indignantly. "We broke up a little after Homecoming."

"What? I didn't hear about this."

"Really? I thought you would've since it was pretty big news for a while." You didn't want to admit you'd been purposefully avoiding rumours about the couple for the majority of their relationship. "He outlived his purpose."

"The Halloween Party and Homecoming." You clarified and she nodded.

You took a drag. Regina pulled what seemed like a candy bar out of her clutch. It was the same brand she'd been eating earlier today.

Considering she'd been insecure about her weight, you didn't comment on it. You took another drag. You couldn't shake off the feeling that there was something weird.

"Hey, can I look at the packaging of that?"

Wordlessly, Regina handed it over. You looked at the product info. Great, it was all in Swedish.

"Where'd you get these?"

"Cady got me a box of them. They're good for weight loss. Like, they just burn all your carbs." You furrowed your eyebrows and looked back at the product info. The numbers didn't seem like that of a weight loss product.

You didn't like she was eating something that would empty her stomach right after dinner. That couldn't have been healthy.

"You're trusting something Cady gave to you?"

She tilted her head, as if about to question you. Her mouth opened, then closed, and opened again.

"Shut up. Shut up."

You took a long drag.

Taglist: @autorasexy, @wedfan2, @unadulterated-moron, @modernsapphicism, @9unknown0, @sage-rose2000, @massive-honkas, @nattys-swiftie, @likefirenrain, @luz-enjoyer, @dandelions4us, @natashamaximoff-69, @alexkolax, @jareaul0ver, @here4theqts, @charleeeesworld, @natsbiggestfan1, @brocoliisscared

(i keep forgetting to add this note. comment on this post if you want on the taglist!)

[munson-blurbs]

Billy Hargrove is into you, and you assume that you don't deserve better than that narcissistic douchebag. When heartbreak inevitably happens, Eddie Munson is there to pick up the pieces.

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI!), oral (f! receiving), protected p in v, Billy is a POS, reader is insecure about her body (no descriptions given, though she mentions not liking her stomach)

**Billy is very manipulative to get reader to sleep with him, though she does consent**

WC: 5.7k

A/N: This is based on two real experiences I had when I was younger. It's incredibly self-indulgent, but has also been wonderful for my healing process. I hope it can help someone else, too. (Also, sorry if it's rambly; it was cathartic but also emotionally difficult to write).

--

As the last swimmer exits through the iron gates, you breathe a sigh of relief at the end of another shift. Lifeguarding at Hawkins Community Pool wasn’t necessarily a difficult job, but it sure was tedious. Your flip-flops thwap against the pavement as you pad into the locker room to get dressed, skin sticky from sunscreen and that infamous mid-July humidity.

“So,” Heather says, twisting her blonde hair into a ponytail as she changes from her swimsuit into shorts and a t-shirt, “you ready to hear that secret?”

You nod enthusiastically. It’s all you’d been thinking about since you’d climbed down the lifeguard tower when her watch duty began, and she’d whispered that she had something to say to you privately. 

Heather’s eyes gleam as she announces, “Billy told me he thinks you’re hot!” She claps her hands together excitedly. “Not that he needed to; anyone can watch him check you out all day long,” she adds with a smirk. 

“Me?” you ask incredulously, unable to muffle your surprise. On instinct, you wrap your arms around your waist protectively. Heather might be comfortable changing in public, but your own body insecurities made it torturous for you to even be naked privately. 

“Yes, you!” your co-worker giggles. “You should talk to him.”

You’re still mulling over the prospect of Billy Hargrove being into you when your ride pulls up to the pool gates. Waving goodbye to Heather, you hop in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van. He picks you up every night you work, and the two of you always split a joint in your backyard before he heads back to the trailer park. It makes your crappy summer job all worth it; God knows the pay isn’t even going to cover your textbooks when you go back to college in August.

“Save any little gremlins today?” he jokes, turning down his music so he can hear your answer.

You shake your head and laugh. “Nah, just yelled, ‘no running!’ about 84 times.” Leaning back in the seat and stretching your legs, you glance over at him. “But Heather told me something interesting.” Eddie cocks his eyebrow, and you take that as a sign to continue. “Apparently, Billy Hargrove thinks I’m hot.” You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. Sure, he’s not exactly your knight in shining armor, but he’s an attractive guy who has a thing for you.

“Oh, ew.” Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Please describe the look on that douche canoe’s face when you turn him down.”

“Who says I’m turning him down?” you quip, crossing your arms over your chest. 

Your best friend sighs. “Well, you should,” he says pointedly, never one to mince words. “Guys like Hargrove only want to get in a girl’s pants and then find a new victim.”

“Why are you being such a bummer?” you snap. Eddie just keeps his eyes on the road, oblivious to your glare. “If Jeff was about to get laid, you’d be throwing him a goddamn parade!”

He chuckles tersely. “That’s because Jeff getting laid would be a fuckin’ miracle.”

You look around, exaggerating your movements for emphasis. “Well, asshole, I don’t exactly see a line of people forming to sleep with me, either.” With that, you pull your knees to your chest and turn your body so that your back is to him.

The car is silent, save for the sounds of Metallica’s Ride the Lightning album crackling through the speakers. After what seems like an eternity, Eddie pulls into your driveway and throws the van in park.

“Did…did you still wanna smoke?” he asks quietly, twiddling with a loose thread on the ripped knee of his jeans.

“Nope.” You jump out of the van, slamming the door shut behind you. “And you don’t have to drive me home tomorrow. I bet Billy will do it.”

You hear him calling your name as you stalk into your house. Honestly, you could really use some weed right now, but you’re too infuriated at him to push it all aside for a quick smoke session.

The next day, you make a point to sit next to Billy when you take your break. He’s smoking a cigarette, occasionally flicking ash into a chipped tray on the table. 

“Can I bum one?” you ask, pointing to the rolled tobacco between his plush lips. 

Billy smirks, reaching for the pack of Marlboros and holding it out to you. “Didn’t peg you for a smoker, sugar.” He passes you his lighter, and you spark up and inhale deeply.

“I usually prefer something greener, but this’ll do.” You take another drag, trying to work up the nerve to say what’s on your mind. As the smoke curls around your mouth, you notice Billy’s eyes trail down the curves of your body, as though he’s trying to drink you in. “Something I can help you with, Hargrove?” you tease, impressed with the way you easily flirt with him. It’s so unlike you, but it feels good.

“Yeah,” he says, chuckling softly. “You can hang with me tonight. Got the place to myself, so, y’know…” He trails off and raises his eyebrows, looking at you expectantly.

Your stomach flip-flops despite yourself. This is what you want, right? No more waiting around for Prince Charming to sweep you off your feet. It’s not going to happen, never going to happen, not when you look the way you do. And if a gorgeous man like Billy Hargrove is actually willing to have sex with you, you’re in no position to turn him down. “O-Okay,” you stammer, hoping he doesn’t sense your nervousness. “I’m working till nine tonight; is that–”

“Perfect,” he interrupts, flashing you a megawatt smile. “I finish at six, but I’ll stick around just for you, pretty thing.”

Pretty. He called you pretty, and he wants you. Wants you enough to hang out at work for an extra three hours just to be with you.

The rest of your shift drags by; all you can think about is Billy. The way he feels, the way he tastes, what he looks like underneath those swim trunks.

The only problem is that he’ll also want to see you naked. The thought sours your mood. You try not to catch glimpses of yourself in the bathroom mirror after you get out of the shower, and now you’re about to let him see you, completely vulnerable.

Stop being such a baby, you scold yourself. Beggars can’t be choosers.

Billy’s waiting outside the locker room once your shift ends. He takes your hand in his larger, stronger one, and leads you to his car.

“Seems kinda silly, getting changed out of that cute little swimsuit,” he whispers in your ear, sending shivers down your spine, “when you’re gonna get undressed again so soon.” He leans you up against the passenger door, pinning your hips back and kissing you hungrily. One hand roams under your t-shirt to the swell of your breasts, breaking away when he feels the fabric of your bra. “You tryin’ to hide these from me, sugar?” He starts to reach for the clasp, but you stand up a bit straighter.

“Did you wanna, like, grab something to eat?” you ask shyly. “We can stop by Benny’s on the way to yours if…if you like burgers?” You cringe as the words leave your lips. Could you sound any more pathetic?

Billy just chuckles patronizingly. “That sounds like a date, and, uh, I don’t do dates.” He leans in, taking your earlobe between his teeth. “But I do other stuff real well.”

Something isn’t right. This isn’t what you want, but you should want it, and so you push down the apprehension and try to focus on the man in front of you. “That’s fine,” you murmur, even though it isn’t. People have casual sex all the time. It doesn’t mean he’s any less attracted to you. Like he said, he’s not the dating type, so why cause problems where none exist?

“I don’t know if I can wait until we get to mine,” he growls, and you can practically taste the spearmint gum that he was chewing earlier. “Might just have to do you in the backseat, hm?”

You nod as he opens the door for you, pretending for a millisecond to be a gentleman. He clambors in behind you and slams it shut, pulling you onto his lap so you’re straddling his waist. You can feel his erection pressed against your clothed sex, and you allow yourself to smile. You did this to him. You got him hard. Not Chrissy Cunningham, or Heather, or Bo Derek. You.

He starts to take off your shirt, but you push his hands away. “Something wrong?” he asks, giving an exasperated sigh. Did you already fuck this up?

“N-No, it’s just…” you avert your gaze, too embarrassed to make eye contact. “Could I keep my shirt on? I don’t really like my body, and I’d just feel better if I didn’t, um, take it off.” Heat blazes behind your cheeks, and you will yourself not to cry.

“For fuck’s sake,” Billy grumbles under his breath, flexing his biceps as he stretches. He lets his hands fall to your ass with a soft smack. “You got me all worked up, and now you’re not even gonna let me see your tits?”

You duck your head in shame. “I’m kinda insecure about the way I look,” you admit, hoping it will soften his heart. Though kinda is an understatement. 

He rolls his eyes, running his tongue over his teeth impatiently. “Y’know,” he finally says, squeezing the plush of your ass, “you might feel better about yourself if you got naked for me.” 

You inhale sharply; that’s not at all what you expected him to say. Maybe something reassuring; something about how much he liked the way you look. Instead, he’s clearly irritated with your hesitation. 

“M-Maybe.” It’s worth a shot, and you slowly peel off your top and unhook your bra, letting it fall to the floor of the car. You watch anxiously as his eyes flit across your bare chest, waiting for his reaction. An indication that he just has to have you and only you.

Instead, he clicks his tongue and simply says, “not bad.” He fumbles with your shorts button before unfastening his own. He strokes his cock lazily, staring at you. “Touch yourself, sugar. Get yourself ready f’me.”

There’s something screaming at you that this isn’t right; he should at least attempt to get you off instead of asking you to do the work for him. But you do as you’re told, not wanting to humiliate yourself further. 

You shimmy out of your shorts, pushing your panties aside and rubbing slow, timid circles around your clit. You’ve done this plenty of times to know what feels good, yet you can’t seem to get it right when it counts. Billy doesn’t notice—or care—that the moans floating past your lips are fake, and he lines himself up with your entrance. 

“Condom?” you remind him, and he rolls his eyes again.

“Doesn’t feel as good,” he grumbles, but he reaches into his wallet and pulls out the square piece of foil and tears it open, sliding the rubber over his thick cock. He pushes into you, not bothering to take his time as he ruts up. “Move your hips for me,” he tells you. “Bounce up and down; damn, do I gotta walk you through everything?”

Tears prickle at your eyes, and you manage to blink them away before he can see. Maybe this’ll get easier with time, you think. Maybe I’m just too nervous. You will yourself to relax, holding onto his broad shoulders as you lean down to kiss him.

“Feels good, yeah?” Billy grunts, and you nod as you zone out. You throw out a few more half-hearted whines as his hips stutter against your pelvis and he spills into the condom. “Fuck, there ya go, take it,” he croons, sweat trickling down his forehead. As soon as he rides out his orgasm, he’s hoisting you off of him so he can clean himself up. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure.” You try to sound enthusiastic. “Could you, um, drive me home?”

“Whatever,” he shrugs, but waits for you to put your clothes back on and climb into the passenger seat.

He wants to do this again tomorrow, meaning he wasn’t completely repulsed by your body. So everything should be good, right?

The next week and a half is filled with lust-fueled backseat romps, usually ending with Billy coming and you…well, returning home to use your trusty vibrator. You’re starting to feel a bit more comfortable, but not in your own skin. It’s more that there’s a certain power behind Billy choosing you when he could be with literally anyone else. You hold your head a little higher, walk a little taller. Even your parents notice on your weekend trip to visit your grandparents in Indianapolis, though you didn’t clue them in on the source of your newfound confidence.

When you get back to the pool that Monday, you’re about to whisper in Billy’s ear to ask if he has a second to “check out a situation in the locker room” with you. What you find stops you dead in your tracks.

His arm is wrapped around Heather. They’re laughing together and she presses her lips to his cheek; he tilts her chin so he can kiss her passionately. It’s more tender, more loving than the way he kisses you.

The ground starts to spin, and you grab onto a plastic chair to steady yourself. As soon as Heather walks away, you march over to Billy.

“What the fuck?” you hiss, trying to keep your volume down. You wince as your voice cracks, giving away the sadness tucked inside your frustration. “Are you with Heather now? Like, with her?”

“Uh, guess so,” Billy replies snidely, twirling a toothpick between his teeth.

You bite your lower lip, willing yourself not to cry. “I thought you said you weren’t the dating type?”

He shrugs. “Just kinda happened,” he says nonchalantly, as if he didn’t just destroy your world. “You were away, she asked me to go to Scoops and grab some ice cream; one thing led to another, and…” he trails off. “Not like you and I were exclusive or some shit.”

“Because you didn’t wanna be!”

“And why do you think that is, huh?” Billy shoots back. “Why do you think I’d rather be with Heather than with you?” He scoffs, leaning back in his chair slightly. “You’re so goddamn uptight, y’know? Always worrying about the way you look, about people seeing us in the car. Heather just…goes with the flow. I can’t deal with someone so high-maintenance. Actually, most guys can’t.” With that, he storms out of the break room, leaving you trembling.

A wave of nausea washes over you as you slump down in a seat. All you wanted was to be wanted, and you blew it. Billy’s right; your insecurities keep you unloveable.

You try to take deep breaths, letting the tears slip down your cheeks. Your shift doesn’t start for another ten minutes, so you pray that you’re able to collect yourself before you’re due to start your watch. You’re sobbing too hard to notice the two boys peering into the lounge, watching you with growing concern before dashing to the nearest payphone. 

You slide on your sunglasses to hide your red, puffy eyes. The last thing you need is people asking you what’s wrong. Just as you’re about to walk over to the lifeguard stand–to switch with Billy, of all people–you feel a tap on your shoulder.

Eddie.

“Um, hey,” he mumbles, scratching the back of his head nervously. “Will and Dustin called; said they saw Hargrove yelling at you, and you crying. Told me to ‘get my scrawny ass here, stat.’” He gives a terse chuckle. “Exact quote, by the way.”

You want to wrap your arms around him and never let go, but you remember what he said to you. Worse, that he was right. “‘M fine,” you lie, and Eddie sees right through it.

He gingerly takes off your sunglasses, heart breaking as he gets a glimpse of your tearful expression. “C’mere,” he says, pulling you in for a tight hug and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. It’s so tender, sweet, and selfless. It’s Eddie.

“Go tell your boss that you’re not feeling well, yeah?” he says finally, still not letting you go. “We can go grab something to eat, and you can tell me everything.”

“‘M not hungry,” you shake your head, “and I just wanna go home.” Your voice is whiny, but you’re too sad to care.

“Okay, well, you’re still leaving,” Eddie insists, and you don’t have the energy to argue. “The sheep,” he gestures to where Dustin and Will are standing, and they wave as though they’ve been caught, “will tell your boss that you’re sick. Lady problems or whatever.” You feel his fingers intertwine with yours as he leads you to his van. “And you can tell me as much as you want, ‘kay?”

You nod wordlessly as Eddie gives the younger kids a thumbs-up. He normally chooses the music, whether he’s the driver or the passenger, but this time, he tilts his chin towards the radio and says, “all yours.”

You turn the dial until you hear a Fleetwood Mac song, expecting Eddie to crack a joke or complain about your selection, but he just taps the steering wheel to the beat. When he drives to a gas station to fill up his tank, you don’t think anything of it until he comes back out with a bag full of Haagen-Daaz.

“Got all your favorite flavors,” he announces, plopping back into the driver’s seat. “I know you said you’re not hungry, but you will be at some point. So…sustenance.”

A smile tugs at your lips, and you manage a small “thanks,” as he drives you back to your place. When he pulls into the driveway, he waits awkwardly for you to say anything else.

Finally, he breaks the silence by handing you the bag from the Shell station. “Don’t want this to melt,” he offers lamely, frowning when you burst into a fresh round of tears. You hear him mutter, “that’s it,” and he kills the engine, jumping out of the van to run to your side. “Up and at ‘em.” He pulls you out of your seat, scooping you up and flinging you over his shoulder with ease. He kicks the van door closed, walking to your front door before setting you down. 

“That’s my favorite method of transportation,” you giggle softly, and he breathes a sigh of relief as your humor peeks through. 

“Save a horse, ride a Munson, right?” he jokes back, blushing when he realizes the double entendre he just made. “Uh, anyway, I can leave if you want…” He stuffs his hands into his back pockets nervously. 

“You can come in,” you say, unlocking the door. He follows you, heading straight for the kitchen and grabbing two spoons from the drawer. 

“Figured we could start with cookie dough,” he says, holding out the pint. “Ladies first.”

The two of you sit on the couch in comfortable silence as you dig into dessert. Halfway through, you look up at him through misty eyes. “I’m waiting for the ‘I told you so,’” you say softly. 

“Huh?”

You tell Eddie everything: Billy’s claim that he wanted something casual, his reaction to you asking to keep your shirt on, the venom he spewed earlier today. “I never should’ve trusted him.”

But Eddie’s seeing red, fists clenched and jaw squared in pure rage. “The fuck did he say?” He stands up so quickly that he nearly knocks over the pint of ice cream. 

“Where are you going?”

“To kick his sorry ass!” Eddie exclaims, grabbing his keys from the table where he tossed them. 

“He’s not worth it,” you tell him. “Just…can you stay here and eat ice cream with me? Please?”

“Fine,” Eddie grumbles, plopping back down next to you. “But I still wanna punch him in the face.”

“You and me both,” you agree, taking another spoonful before posing the question you’ve been too afraid to ask. “Do you think I’m a slut?”

Eddie nearly chokes on his bite of cookie dough. “A slut? Because you slept with some douchebag?”

“No,” you say quietly, “for having sex with someone because I wanted to feel beautiful.”

His whole body deflates. “That’s why you…why wouldn’t you think you’re beautiful?”

You bark out a tense laugh. “Where to start? Um, my face, my hair, my body…oh, and apparently, now I’m too insecure and uptight to love, so…”

Eddie cradles your face between his strong, calloused hands. “Listen to me,” he says. “You are the most goddamn beautiful person on this Earth. Your eyes…I could stare into them all day. You have the cutest nose I’ve ever seen. Your smile makes me smile. And your hair…no matter how you wear it, you always look good. Sometimes you say things like, ‘ugh, my hair’s a mess today,’ and I’m just flabbergasted.”

“Flabbergasted?” you interject, amused by his word choice.

“Flabbergasted,” Eddie affirms. “And your body is…I’m gonna sound like such a creep here, so forgive me, but your body is so fucking hot. Like the night we had that argument, you said something about no one else wanting to sleep with you. But I know for a fact that that’s not true.”

“It’s not? Who wants to sleep with me?”

Eddie laughs nervously as he slowly raises his hand. “Um, me? But not, like, in a smash-and-dash way. Like in a take you on dates, hold your hand, be your boyfriend kinda way? Oh my God, just tell me to shut up. Please.”

“You’re just saying that to cheer me up,” you mutter.

“Nope. It’s the truth. Cross my heart.” He makes the slashes across his chest with his fingers. “Wait…the thought of us together cheers you up?”

You nod shyly. “Just never thought you’d be into me like that.”

“Well, I am. I so fuckin’ am, holy shit.” Eddie looks like he wants to kiss you, but he’s holding back. “Can I take you on a date? Maybe tomorrow?”

“I’d love a date with you, Eddie Munson.” You watch as a grin spreads across his face, and you rest your head on his shoulder. He lays his arm along the back of the couch, not quite sure whether to put it around you. That’s how the two of you fall asleep as the remaining ice cream melts in its container.

Seeing Billy at work the next day still stings a bit, but it’s easier than it was. You know he’s an idiot, a player, a manipulative piece of shit. And you have a date with Eddie, who is the kindest, gentlest soul you’ve ever met. And you deserve that kindness.

Eddie picks you up from work as usual, but instead of his typical ripped jeans and a concert tee, he’s wearing…well, un-ripped jeans and a concert tee. But he smells like a new cologne as he kisses your cheek, blushing as he pulls away.

“You look absolutely incredible,” he muses, reaching over to hold your hand. “Seriously, I’m so lucky you agreed to go out with me, shit.” He smiles at you, shaking his head.

“What?”

“Nothin’, I just…” He can’t seem to shed his dopey, lovesick grin. “Told myself I wasn’t gonna kiss you; like, kiss you kiss you, until the end of the date. But you just look so goddamn gorgeous.”

“Shut up,” you duck your head, trying to hide from him. “I’m the lucky one. My date is hot and has a kickass personality to match.”

“Guess we both got lucky tonight.” Eddie bites his lower lip when he realizes what he’s just implied. “I mean–”

You squeeze his hand, effectively silencing his racing thoughts. “Where are you taking me?” you ask, trying to change the subject. It’s not that you were embarrassed by his Freudian slip, but after what happened with Billy, you weren’t looking to rush into sex.

“You’ll see,” Eddie says, excitement building in his voice. A few moments later, you’re walking into the Coffee and Contemplation Café, with Eddie holding the door open for you. Your sundress swishes along your thighs as you take a seat across from Eddie. He immediately takes your hands in his, caressing them with his thumbs.

“Eds?”

“Mm?”

“I need to look at the menu.”

“Oh.” He lets go of your hands, looking a bit sad as he does. “Sorry, baby. Shit–can I call you that?”

“Yeah,” you say. “I really like that, actually.” Baby. You’re Eddie’s “Baby.”

When the waitress comes around, you order a vanilla latte, and Eddie orders coffee with cream and two sugars. “That’s what Wayne always orders when we go to the diner,” he explains. The two of you decide to split a piece of crumb cake–one slice, two forks.

“This is a really nice date, Eds.” You wrinkle your nose. “Hmm. I need a cute nickname for you now, huh?”

Eddie taps his chin as though he’s deep in thought. “How about…stud muffin?” He feigns offense when you giggle. “What? Am I not studly?”

“Oh, the studliest,” you reassure him, still laughing. “I like ‘babe,’ though. Because you are a babe.”

“I dunno…kinda like stud muffin better,” Eddie teases, taking a sip of his coffee. “Now, tell me all about your day.”

And so you fill him in on every detail, from the kid who peed in the pool to the mother who berated the lifeguards for “allowing” it to happen. “Like we can control their bladders or something,” you add with an eye roll, and Eddie cackles. A strand of hair falls in his face, and you tuck it behind his ear.

“Thanks, baby,” he murmurs, peering at you from under impossibly long lashes. That’s when you lean in and kiss him, soft and slow and sweet. He’s not expecting it; probably thinking he was going to initiate when he dropped you back off at home. His lips remain frozen for a second until his brain registers what’s happening. Then he’s kissing you back, palm on your cheek.

“Was that okay?” you ask finally. Eddie’s response is to slam a $10 bill on the table and grab your hand, leading you back to his van. He kisses you again against the side door; it reminds you of how Billy kissed you that night that you…

Eddie notices that you’ve stopped kissing him back, and he pulls away. “Baby? You good?”

“Y-Yeah,” you stammer. He’s not Billy. Not even close. Not even a little bit. You take a deep breath. “Just nervous, c-cause the last time I did this, it, uh, didn’t end well for me.”

Eddie wraps his arms around your waist, gently pulling you towards him. “Hey, hey,” he coos. “There’s no rush, yeah? And I’d never–never make you do anything you’re not ready for.”

“I know.” And you do. So for now, you just rest your head against his chest, listening to the beautiful sound of his heartbeat.

The next month before you leave for school is filled with dates, each better than the last. Eddie takes you to the carnival, the drive-in movie theater, picnics at Lover’s Lake…anywhere he can. The kissing gets more fun; you’re able to focus on Eddie–your Eddie–and not on your past experiences.

The night before you’re set to go back to college, you’re ready to take that next step with him. The two of you are sitting on his bed and listening to music; your plans for an outdoor music festival having been squandered by the pouring rain. You move closer to him, straddling his waist as you press your lips to his neck.

“‘M gonna miss you s’much,” you pout, moving your mouth to his. “Want you, babe. All of you.”

Eddie gives a terse chuckle. “I want you too; so fuckin’ bad. But we don’t have to do this just because you’re leaving. I’m not gonna break up with you. In fact, I…” he swallows thickly before continuing, “I think I love you, baby. Shit, no; I know I love you.”

“I know I love you, too,” you smile, kissing him again. “And I want to have sex with you because I love you, and I want to show you.” You dig your fingers into Eddie’s hair, nuzzling your noses together. “Is that okay?”

“More than okay,” he breathes, hands settling on your hips. “You’ll let me know if you wanna stop, right? Just tell me, and we can go back to cuddling. Promise me.”

“I promise,” you say, and it’s the truth.

Eddie nods. “Okay. On your back, baby. Let me take care of you.” 

You do as he asks, and you feel his lips trail down your torso, stopping just before he reaches the throbbing ache between your legs. “Yes?” he looks up at you patiently.

“Yes.” With that, he unbuttons your shorts and tugs them down your legs, running his middle finger along your lace panties. He shivers as he feels how wet you are, all for him, and he nearly tears the underwear in half trying to yank it off of you.

“Wanna taste you,” Eddie mutters.

“Y-You can taste me.” You whimper, and Eddie wastes no time licking a soft stripe along your folds, easily finding your clit. “Right there.” His lips wrap around your sensitive bud, flicking his tongue over it. “Holy shit, yes, right fucking there.”

Eddie detaches from your sex for a second, chin already shiny with your slick. “Keep makin’ those pretty noises f’me, please.” He sounds just as desperate as you do as he plunges back between your legs, this time slipping a finger inside you as he licks. You’re moaning, and there’s no faking it this time. Eddie’s touch has you floating, You can vaguely sense him rutting up against the mattress, so turned on just by eating you out. He’s holding onto your hips, eyes never leaving your body.

“Gonna come, feels s’good,” you whine, never wanting this feeling to end. You grind up into his face as you ride out your orgasm, gripping the sheets and screaming his name. “Eddie, Eddie, I’m coming, holy fuck!” After he brings you back down from the high, you push yourself up onto your knees.

“Where ya goin’?” he asks. “Was that too much?”

“Just wanna return the favor.” You lean over to rub him through his tented jeans, but he shakes his head.

“Not tonight,” he mutters, “I’m too pent up. I’ll never last in that perfect little mouth of yours.” He kisses you deeply, and you can taste yourself on his lips. “Can I be inside you?”

“Yes, babe. Please.” You look down, realizing that your shirt is still on. You want to show him all of you, let him touch every last inch of your body, but you hesitate to take it off.

Eddie must be able to read your mind, because he tilts your chin in his direction. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wanna see you naked,” he admits, “but only if you’re ready. You can keep it on if you’re more comfortable.”

You inhale in for three and exhale for three before you respond. “I’m ready. I’m comfortable.” You lift the shirt above your head, revealing your bare breasts. The incredulous stare on your boyfriend’s face is almost comical. “Are you okay?” you giggle.

“No, I think I died and went to Heaven,” he says, letting his thumbs graze over your hardened nipples. He undresses himself in record time, revealing his long, thick cock. Pre-cum drips from the tip. “Baby, I wanna spend all night touching you, but I’m gonna bust if–”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, looping your arms around his neck and kissing him. 

He reaches into his dresser drawer, pulling out a condom and removing it from its wrapper. “Can you put it on me?” he whispers, and you oblige, rolling it down his length. He hisses at your touch, too sensitive to ask you to linger there. He sets you back on the pillows, slowly pushing into you a little at a time until he’s fully inside. “Good, baby?”

“Mhm,” you mewl. “S’good. You can–you can go faster, whenever you want.”

Eddie threads his fingers with yours, putting your hands up next to your head as he rocks into you. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he groans. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you.” He punctuates each I love you with a kiss to your lips.

“I love you, Eddie. ‘M all yours.”

“All mine,” he echoes, “my baby’s all mine. And I’m hers. Her pussy belongs to me and–shit–my cock belongs to her.” He squeezes your hand, not possessively, but as a reminder that it’s him. It’s him, it’s you, it’s the two of you together. His eyes never leave yours, and he suddenly smiles. “You make me so damn happy.”

“This has been the best summer of my life,” you agree, “and it’s all because I have you, babe.” 

His chest rubs against yours ever-so-slightly, and the sensation of your breasts has him weak. “I’m gonna come.” His expression is apologetic. “Shit, I didn’t wanna–”

“Let go for me,” you assure him, feeling yourself come undone as you speak. “We c-can come together.” Your second orgasm of the evening happens on his cock as he spills into the condom with a wanton moan. He’s still for a minute, catching his breath before removing himself from your warmth.

“I love you,” he says as he kisses you, sliding off the barrier and tying it. “Let me toss this, and then can we cuddle? I kinda just wanna hold you.”

“I’m down to cuddle before round two,” you say, laughing at his dumbfounded expression. “Don’t worry; I’ll give you a few minutes to reload.”

“I’m not worried about that,” he says, climbing back into bed and sighing happily as you snuggle into his chest. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

--

[infin1ty-garden]

So I just finished the quarry and fell in love max brinly 😅 do you think you can do a max brinly x reader? Weather they were already in a relationship or met at camp, but max makes it to camp and is there the whole summer. Something happens to where the reader get attacked/bit that night and he does whatever he can to save her? Preferably a happy ending together, but your discretion! Thank you for whatever you can do!!

I WOULD DIE FOR HER

༊*·˚ summary: [ in request ] ༊*·˚ pairing: max brinly x fem! reader ༊*·˚ warnings: werewolf attack? injury, guns, blood & curse words ༊*·˚ word count: 1180 ༊*·˚ author note: it's been a while since i played the quarry. canon divergent

masterlist.

"A werewolf? Great! What's next? Dracula?" It was the last day of summer camp. They were suppose to be on the road already but their car didn't start. Instead of eating junk food and belting songs, they were stuck here. At best until tomorrow morning.

And now, apparently a wolf or werewolf attacked Nick and Abby. Max didn't doubt Abby or Nick's words but a werewolf is something harder to believe in. An escaped science experiment would have been more believable.

No matter how believable it is or not. One thing was for certain, something was out there to get them. Dylan and Ryan try to get help via the radio shack as the others stay back in the lodge, including Max and you. But while there you hear something on the roof.

Sounding way too heavy to be a bird. Then Abby and Nick's statement proves to be right as a werewolf crashes through the roof. It starts chasing each of you, trying to see which one will catch it first. Right as you think you managed to find a good place to hide.

It charges at your hiding place. It's claws sinking into your shoulder. Max rips the gun out of Kaitlyn's arms and aims it for the creature. Shoot it in the arm then stomach. It turns its attention away from you and to Max as shots it in the head. It backs off running into the woods.

"How did you know how to do that?" Max hands the gun back to Kaitlyn and rushes over to you. "It's a gun. It's not that difficult," he assesses the wound. It's deep and without some treatment you could bleed out. He refuses to show any panic. Knowing it'll only make the situation worse.

Max knows there's some medical stuff in the lodge 'just in case something happens'. This is something. He tells Kaitlyn to keep you awake as he goes to find the supplies. He's not a medical student or anything but he will try his best.

"Don't let her die," is all Max could think about and when he gets back he makes quick work of the wound with the help of Kaitlyn. He has you bite on a cloth as they sow up the wound and wrap a lot of gauze around it. It's not perfect but it's the best they could do.

By the time they are done. Ryan and Dylan are back. They bombard them with questions on what happened. You look pale and Max, the worried boyfriend that he is, keeps sending you concerned looks. The first time you try to take a step, you almost faceplant.

But you need to leave the lodge as there is now a hole in the roof. The group decided to go to the pool house and hunker down there. Max helps you walk all the way there. Once you arrive, Nick starts acting really weird. Max and you separate from the group.

He lets you rest but does everything so you don't close your eyes. He goes back to check on the others. The next thing you hear is a lot of yelling and the sound of a gunshot. Max comes rushing back. He's in a state of shock. That much is obvious.

Quickly picks you up bridal style and runs out of the pool house. On your way out you notice the room was drenched in blood. You're left in the dark as to what happened. What you do notice is Laura, one of Max's friends and a counsellor that went missing, showed up.

She explains where she'd been this whole time. The group makes the ultimate decision to split up again. Laura and Ryan go to the Heckett's house, Emma and Abby to the basement of the lodge and Dylan, Kaitlyn, Max and you try to find a spare part to fix the car.

Even Laura suggested that Max go with her but he declined. Refusing to leave your side. Cute, considering you'll turn into one of those creatures before the night is over. At the junkyard, Dylan and Kaitlyn are working on the crane.

Dylan starts rapidly honking the horn. "There's something coming!" Max and you find a hiding place hoping that the creature doesn't find you. That hope is squashed as it's now only a few feet away from you. You feel anger bubbling up in you.

You've been through shit this whole night. Two of your friends could be dead and Max's missing ex girlfriend is now back. Is he going to dump you and get back together with her? Were you just a summer fling to him? You feel as if your insides are being ripped out.

Were you dying? Max jumps from the hiding place and shoots the creature. He aims to take another shot but the gun's empty. It runs to your hiding place. You feel as if something is trying to burst out of your chest. Excruciating pain as your bones break than a burst of blood.

You can't control your movements anymore. Attack the werewolf charging at you, killing it. Max can't believe what he's seeing. He knew it was a matter of time before you turned but this is terrifying. If he is to die by your hand so be it but to his surprise you run away.

Leaving the junkyard to go to God knows where. He goes to find Kaitlyn and Dylan, tells them what had happened. All three of them go back to the lodge with the part in hand to meet up with the other counsellors. Laura and Ryan return with Travis Hackett.

"It's over. We killed Silas," the first thought in Max's head is 'Who?' and the second how the hell is he going to find you. Laura offers to go with him and this time he obliges. If there's a possibility they find your dead body, he needs someone he trust there when he breaks down.

Instead of finding a dead body, they find you walking. Probably trying to find a way back to the lodge. Max is overwhelmed with relife and envelopes you in a bone crushing hug. "You're okay. Thank God! You're okay." He peppers your face with kisses.

"Never do that again," he rests his head on your shoulder. "What do you mean? I turn into a werewolf on a regular basis," he laughs but soon tears start falling from his eyes. Laura interrupts the moment.

"We should get back. I don't wanna spend another second in this forest," she starts walking. "Laura's back. So, when's your date planned?" Max's back straightens and his eyes look as if they'll fall out of his sockets. "What?"

"With Laura. I would assume you guys will pick up where you left off." He aggressively shakes his head. "No! I mean we didn't break up but the night before she left we realised we're just not working. To me you're like a breath of fresh air. Okay that's a cheesy metaphor but I love you and nothing will change that."

Thanks for reading!

[differenteagletragedy]

Did I write a smutty little Derek story based entirely on this moment in Step 3 after you flirt with him and tell him he's probably super toned?

Yes, I did, and I'm not sorry about it.

This is smut-lite, I'd say, a little racier than the similar-ish Baxter fic I wrote but nothing super crazy. It also may be OOC for Derek but give the man something, OK.

If someone had asked you when you were 13 who you saw yourself with in the future, without a doubt you would have answered "Derek Suarez." He was the boy you were going to marry. There was no doubt in your mind.

Back then, you liked him so much it hurt. Sometimes he'd say and do things that made you think he might feel the same way, but he never said anything. Well, he did ask you to marry him, but only if you were both single in 10 years. And when you tried to point out that if you liked each other, maybe you could just start dating now, he shut it down so fast that you were forced to accept that your crush must have been one-sided.

That was five years ago. A lot had changed since then -- you were still friends with Derek and you definitely still had a soft spot for him, but it had been a long time since you'd realized he didn't return your affections. You'd long since stopped hoping for anything to happen with him.

But during a call towards the end of summer, just before he was leaving for college, he made a remark. Just one little comment, nothing even particularly notable, at least not to the casual observer.

After that, it was on.

During your chat, you'd exchanged updates on how your summers had been going, and you made some offhanded comment about how much more toned he must be after all the training you knew he'd been doing to get ready for college. It was flirty, sure, but nothing crazy.

His response was what had surprised you. He had flirted back.

You could still hear it. His voice had gone low and quiet as he confirmed that he was even more toned that he was the last time you'd seen him, and then, with a smirk instead of his trademark wide smile, he'd said "I hope you can see it in person sometime."

It wasn't likely -- whether it was because of his busy schedule or just by his own design, he was rarely free for a visit. But because he was leaving so soon, Cove had begged and pleaded with him to come to Sunset Bird for one last beach day before adulthood officially began, and he'd agreed.

That's how you found yourself sitting on the shore between your two best friends, holding a fruit tray on your lap as they steadily demolished it.

"What are we going to do next?" Derek asked, grabbing another piece of pineapple. "We already hit up the playground and the grocery store, now we're eating fruit on the beach."

It was a Nostalgia Day -- the three of you were doing things you'd done during that first summer together.

"I don't think we have time to go to the mall," Cove said. "I'll have to be at work before we would get back."

"I think that knocks the pool at Derek's apartment building out too," you said.

"We did pick up the lemons and water balloons," Derek offered. "We'll definitely have time for that."

You and Cove nodded in agreement. You spent the next half hour or so picking at the fruit tray, talking about what was ahead for each of you, then decided it was time for the next activity.

The lemonade was made in Cove's kitchen just as it had been five years before -- except with no knife wounds. It tasted as sweet as it did then, and when you were done with your glasses Cove went back into the house and came out with an empty laundry basket.

"Let's load it up," he said, his tone turning serious.

You and Derek worked together filling the water balloons, and Cove placed them safely in the basket. When you'd made enough to fill it, you carried it out to the street. The three of you stood around it, looking at each other.

Just as you were about to suggest some terms for the battle, Cove struck. He quickly stuck his hand into the basket, pulled out a balloon and hurled it at Derek.

When you were 13, Cove's strategy was to stay by the ammunition, not caring if he got hit so long as he had easy access to hit others, and it hadn't changed. You and Derek grabbed your own balloons as you could, darting away from Cove, but in the end, there was a clear winner, and the sopping wet clothes you and Derek wore were proof.

"No mercy, huh, Cove?" Derek asked. Nonchalantly, he pulled his shirt over his head and wrung it out on the street.

You tried not to stare, but you didn't exactly succeed. Feeling your eyes on him, he turned to you, starting to say something, but he stopped. Your own shirt was soaked and clung to your chest -- it was his turn to stare. He let himself look for just a second before he turned away.

He and Cove started picking up the little broken pieces of the balloons that littered the street, and you joined them. By the time everything was said and done, Cove announced that it was time for him to get ready for work. He gave Derek a hug -- his friend would be leaving soon, and he knew this was goodbye for a while.

Cove retreated inside his house, and Derek looked to you, smiling.

"We can keep hanging out if you want," you told him. "I don't have anything to do."

"Me neither," he replied. "Or at least nothing I would like to do more."

You'd had enough outdoor fun for the day, so you decided to hang out in your room, another familiar activity from back when you were younger. This time, you were in a different room, having taken over Liz's bigger one after she left for school herself, and Derek looked around as you went to your closet to pull out a new shirt.

"Don't turn around," you told him, seeing his back was to you as he looked at the photos on your wall. He gave you a thumbs up, and you quickly switched your wet shirt for a dry one.

When you were done, you went to stand beside him and looked at him, then to your wall. His eyes, you could tell, were on one specific picture: one your moms had took of the two of you at the summer soiree.

"We were so little," you told him, trying to focus on the photo and not the warmth that was radiating off his body, so close to yours. He still hadn't put his shirt back on, and you were trying not to think about that either.

"I know," he said. "It was the perfect night. I thought my little 13-year-old heart would explode."

"What do you mean?"

"It was life or death, remember?" he asked. You did -- he had said that that night.

"My very first date, a fancy party with you," he said wistfully. "I wish I could go back and tell myself how good I had it then."

You studied his face then, determined to figure out what he was getting at. He had a similar kind of tone that he'd had during that flirty conversation on the phone the week before, but there was something else there too. Something deeper.

He turned to face you then, moving his body to face you as well. You mirrored him, and you stood close together, neither of you saying anything.

"I really did, you know?" Derek said finally. "Have it good, I mean. I got to spend so much time with you."

"Growing up is hard," you shrugged, trying to keep your cool. "Things get busy."

"I shouldn't have let it get so busy that I stopped being so close to you."

Taking a steadying breath, you said, "We're close now."

He looked at you for a bit, and you could practically see a war going on in his mind. You imagined him imagining what you meant, what he thought was right, what you could do together here in your room while you were home alone. What he needed and what he thought he deserved.

It was tough to see him battling with himself. He'd been doing it for years, and you wanted to help him stop, if only for a little bit.

You raised a hand that you hoped didn't look as shaky as it felt and placed it on his shoulder. His muscles tensed under your touch. He looked down at your hand there, then to your face. You weren't sure how to tell him that it was ok, that he could be with you if he wanted, so you tried to convey the message with your eyes.

His flirty tone that had been on your mind all week couldn't have possibly been from this man that stood in front of you. Over the phone he's been assertive, forward, but now that you were actually in front of each other he couldn't make a move.

"Derek?" you prompted, stroking a thumb over his shoulder.

He inhaled deeply, then stiffly brought his hands up to your waist. He gripped you, testing the waters a bit, and you stepped closer to him and placed your other hand on the back of his neck.

"We are," he said. "Close now."

With a painful slowness, he brought his mouth closer to yours. He paused then, bringing his eyes from your lips to see if you were all right. You nodded, and he leaned the rest of the way in.

His kiss was, as you'd imagined, soft and gentle, like he was. It was careful and unassuming, and so sweet. You enjoyed it for a moment, taking in the fact that you were actually, finally kissing him. You pressed it into your memory.

But then you wanted more.

You pulled him in closer, deepening the kiss, and as timid as he was about this, he readily responded. His hands dipped a little lower, the tips of his fingers grazing over the curve of your hips before he moved them back up. With a little grunt of protest against his lips, you grabbed his hands and placed them where they'd wanted to go.

He laughed, and while normally you would delight in the sound, it wasn't what you were going for now, so you caught his lips in another kiss.

Slowly, he loosed up a little. He had more fun with kissing you, exploring your mouth for the first time. His hands freely roamed along your hips, down to your thighs and around to your back. A moan slipped from your mouth to his, and he pulled back.

"Is this ok?" he asked.

"Yeah. Is it ok with you?"

He smiled, placing another kiss on your forehead, and said, "I'm managing."

At some point, he slid his hands under the the bottom hem of your shirt, caressing the bare skin there. Figuring that it wasn't fair that he was the only one without a shirt, you hastily threw yours over your head and off to the side. It was his turn to moan.

Figuring that being the initiator here had played in your favor so far, you eventually started leading him over to your bed. You sat first, pulling him down with you, then you laid down on your back, hoping he'd fall into place.

With an ease that made you proud, he gently grabbed one of your knees and pulled it to the side so he could fit between your legs. He lowered himself down over you, letting your bodies touch while he still held his weight up himself. Instead of going back to your mouth, he trailed kisses all along your neck, across your collarbone and slowly -- always slowly, giving you plenty of room to pull back if you wanted -- down your chest.

You thought about how much you'd thought about having him here, exactly like this. It was better than you'd imagined, but of course it was -- actually being able to feel his warmth, see the sparkle in his pretty green eyes whenever he took a second to look up at you wasn't something you could duplicate in your dreams.

Then an unwelcome thought came -- he'd be leaving soon. In a matter of days, he'd be gone and who knows exactly when he'd come back, or when you'd get a chance to be like this again? Or if you ever would get the chance?

The thought made you a bit desperate, and you raised your hips to connect with his. His hands, which had been holding onto your hips as he kissed his way down your stomach, clenched. His breath was shallow against your skin.

"You would tell me if you wanted to stop, right?" he asked, almost bashfully. You assured him that you would, of course you would, and added, a bit bashful yourself, that you were a long ways from wanting to stop.

He slid his fingers just under the waistband of your shorts and looked up at you, wanting to be certain before he proceeded. Once again, you nodded, and he stripped you down to your underwear.

"I never thought this would happen," he murmured, coming back up to your lips. Between kisses, he said, "I wanted this for so long. Is that weird to say?"

"No," you said, "I have too. So if it's weird then at least we're both weird."

"I can live with that."

His hand started roaming again, but this time he found his way into your underwear and got to work.

As your sighs and groans grew louder and more frequent, so did his, although you weren't touching him, not yet. He kept kissing your cheek, your jawline, your temple -- anywhere he could get as he focused on moving his hand in the ways that seemed to please you most. You gripped onto his arm to steady yourself, feeling your release coming, and before he could misinterpret it you told him, "Please don't stop."

The gentleman that he was, he obliged.

When you were done -- when he was sure you were done -- he dragged his hand back up your body, confident enough now to touch you wherever he wanted. But, you'd decided, it was his turn. You nudged his shoulder, guiding him to lie down, then sat up and started pulling on his gym shorts. You took a page out of his book, going slow enough so he'd have time to tell you if he wanted you to stop.

Instead, he said, "You don't have to."

"I want to," you told him. "Is that ok?"

He thought about it, then nodded, shy again. But when you slid down his shorts, his underwear with them, and took him in your hand, the shyness was gone.

You knew Derek, and you know that he very rarely indulged himself. He always took care of everyone else and got uneasy when anyone tried to do the same for him. So you took your time.

Thankfully, he seemed to enjoy himself immensely. As you moved your hand, you started talking to him a low voice not unlike the one he'd used in that phone call that started all of this. You told him how good he was, how beautiful, as soon as a compliment popped in your head you showered it down on him, and it was impossible to come up short with words of praise when it came to him. His cheeks became as flushed as his chest, he was grunting and gasping and jerking, but when you moved to put your mouth over him, he put a firm hand on your shoulder.

"No," he said. "Don't, I didn't do that for you."

"It's not a contest," you told him with a laugh.

"Maybe not. But if it is, I want to win."

You hummed in thought, rubbing your free hand down his thigh, and after he was done with that particular moan, you said, "What if this is just the second quarter? Not even to halftime yet, plenty of chances to take the lead."

He grinned. "I can work with that, I think."

After he had finished ... well, it didn't seem like he was finished. With a passion he didn't have before, he pushed you back down to the bed and kissed you hard. His hand found its way back to your underwear, and this time you quickly took them off before letting him wrap you in his arms and pull you tight against him.

He was making the sweetest sounds, and you were breathless as he put his hand between your legs again. This time he was working quicker -- he was a fast learner. You felt him against your thigh, getting hard again already, and you found yourself trying to remember where you'd put those condoms your moms had given you, "just in case."

Before you could place them, there was a flurry of noise downstairs. Your family was home, and they weren't being quiet about it.

Derek froze and looked at you, starting to panic. Understanding that things couldn't go as far as you wanted them to put not willing to be done just yet, you started rocking your hips against his hand. He buried his face in the crook of your neck to hide the noise that move had brought out of him.

Once again, he brought you to climax, and it was your turn to muffle your cries again him. When your breathing slowed, he gave you a slow, easy kiss, then said, "We better get dressed."

You moaned, but it wasn't as fun as when you'd done it earlier.

"Come on," he said, giving you another peck before hopping out of your bed. "I'm not about to be caught in your room naked."

You watched as he quickly got dressed, and you felt his eyes on you as you did the same. Before, he wouldn't have dared to check you out like this. Now he was drinking it in shamelessly.

When you were both presentable, you saw his smile fade a bit. You raised your eyebrows, and he said, "I wish this wasn't over. I wish we had more time."

You could tell he wasn't just talking about this afternoon.

"Well, just remember what I said," you told him, stepping closer and gripping his arms for the pep talk. "This is halftime. The game's not over yet."

He smirked at your attempt at a sports metaphor, then surprised you by moving a hand down to squeeze your ass.

"Oh, it's not over by a long shot."

[lucywrites02]

The game of cat and spider Chapter 1

Main masterlist ♡ Miguel O'hara masterlist ♡ The game of cat and spider Masterlist ♡ AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

A/n: And here I am with my first Miguel fanfic! I can't say how many chapters this story will have because I am still in the middle of planning out this fic. I hope you enjoy it! I am looking forward to reading your feedback :3 I will try my best and update every week

Pairing: Miguel o'hara x black cat! Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: mention on a wound and blood. There are probably some mistakes since I didn't proofread ups..

Series Summary: You are a criminal and he's a hero. You don't know each other's names, never seen the person behind the mask. You aren't enemies- you are supposed to be but that didn't work out quite well. You liked each other a bit too much, but your relationship was strictly…. Professional? What happens if you meet as normal people, with no masks and responsibilities in your way? What did the universe plan for you? And most importantly…. Will it last?

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Here, kitty kitty." The spider-man called, chasing the town's most famous thief- the black cat. You were proud of this title- most wanted criminal in Nueva York. You worked hard to earn that and no person was gonna take that away from you. Especially not a grown us man playing dress-up at night.

It stopped raining hours ago, but the streets were still wet and slippery which meant you had to be really careful. It would be incredibly embarrassing to land on your ass and get your suit wet in front of the town's favourite superhero. Even though it was still summer, the nights got really cold sometimes. Like now. Your suit wasn't made for this kind of weather and if you weren't running you would surely be shivering. The raindrops on windows and the ground reflected the street lights, creating a cozy atmosphere. It was one of the most silent parts of the city- there weren't many cars driving at this hour and people who lived there were already asleep. A typical upper class corner. It was unusual for a metropole like Nueva York to be this quiet, that's why you liked 'working' in this neighbourhood. It was quiet. Almost relaxing. You would probably appreciate your surroundings more if it wasn't for the man in a latex bodysuit running after you.

His costume was soaked after you pushed him into the pool in someone's garden as you were fighting him off of you. The droplets made him shine a little when the light hit him at the right angle.

At first Miguel treated you like any other criminal- you were an obstacle that had to be removed- but you escaped him every damn time. O'hara was beyond furious the first few times it happened. And your flirty comments and constant teasing didn't help at all. That's why he was surprised when he noticed that he started doing that, too at some point. Chasing you became more of a hobby than responsibility and even though Miguel would never say that out loud, he kinda enjoyed it. It's been almost a year since the two of you started that little game of cat and spider and it would be a lie if Miguel said you were an enemy. You were more of a…. Miguel wasn't entirely sure what your relationship was, but you definitely didn't hate each other and even though it's Spider-man's job to capture you, he didn't actually want to do it. But you didn't have to know about that.

"Just give me the necklace back and we can call it a day." The man sighed, pretending to be irritated as you kept running away. The black cat made spider-man's job fun, but the man would never admit it. The 'fights' with you- if Miguel could even call them fights- were different. You were no villain that wanted to take over the town. Neither were you ever going to kill him just because he's spider-man. That's why Miguel actually kinda enjoyed those 'fights'. You were just a thief- a very skillful one, but still. The black cat had a sense of humour that no other person had and Miguel yearned for those interactions. It probably wasn't very hero-like to enjoy talking with a criminal, but O'hara wasn't an ordinary hero. He didn't like doing things by the 'superhero handbook'.

"Ask nicely and maybe I will" you chuckled, climbing over a wired fence. You were distracted by the man and didn't observe your surroundings well. That's why you hissed in pain as one of the wires that was standing out cut the skin on your tight, tearing your suit as well. You had to keep running, but the pain in your leg was slowing you down.

You gasped as you felt strong arms holding your shoulders from behind. Your back collided with Spider-man's broad chest. It made your head spin. Or was it because of the pain?

"Give it back, pretty please." The masked man whispered into your ear. "You will hurt yourself more if you keep running" his deep voice made shivers run down your spine.

"Pff, do you think I'm stupid?" You chuckled, turning your head to the left to get a better look at the masked man. "I worked two weeks to get this, you're not taking it away from me." You heard the spider-man sigh heavily. Your heartbeat quickened its pace and you begged it to stop. Having him touch you so firm, but yet so gentle made your knees buckle and you had enough.

For a moment your eyes met- at least that's what you thought since you couldn't really see his eyes- and you almost melted against his chest. That's when you decided it was too much and that your heart was crossing a line- how dared it make you feel weak and vulnerable?! You kicked the man's leg, taking him by surprise and fled. You heard some Spanish curses thrown your way and giggled. You run, ignoring the stinging sensation and manage to actually lose the hero. Enough adventures for one night.

You patted yourself on the shoulder for a job well done and headed back home. You arrived at an alley behind your apartment complex- that's where you hid a backpack with a simple hoodie and sweatpants. It would be weird if you entered the building as the black cat. You liked risks, but you would never compromise your private life. It was important to keep your secret identity a secret- that was the whole point of the word 'secret'. The neighbours wouldn't be happy to know you're a criminal- they already complained that your cat runs around the apartment complex unsupervised as if that was their biggest concern.

And it wasn't like you were really a criminal! Well, technically you were- stealing is a crime- but it's not like you were doing that for selfish reasons! You almost never keep the money from your heists to yourself. In the eye of the public you are an honourable person- an angel that supports charities, animal shelters and orphanages. They never ask where the money came from- they are simply happy they are getting some support. You still did some petry crime sometimes. Like that one time when some business guy was being rude to a waitress so you stole his wallet. Or that one time where you broke into the house of your best friend's ex boyfriend and stole his watch collection because he cheated on her. The point was that you only stole from bad people. And as everyone knows stealing from the rich is not a crime.

That spider-man guy didn't know about it, of course. You never told him why you are stealing and he didn't really have to know. It was fun to be chased by him- at the very beginning of your journey as the black cat you would always get an adrenaline kick from your robberies. But after a while it wasn't as thrilling anymore… you have gotten too good at cracking safes open and hacking security systems. It became so monotonous and simply not exciting. And then the spider-man came. The masked man made your 'side job' fun again. You got to steal from the rich, give to the poor and get chased by a charismatic hero in a tight latex costume. You never knew when he would appear, meaning you always had to be on your toes. But when he finally showed up, oh boy was it fun. You were worried at first, thinking he was capable enough to capture you, but thankfully you were wrong. The masked man was capable, of course, but not enough to get you. He was definitely a challenge and that's why you were determined to never get caught by him. You were sure that at some point he started enjoying those interactions, too.

You swore under your breath, looking for the keys to your apartment's door in the pockets of your hello kitty themed backpack. The blood coming from your tight soaked into the grey sweatpants you wore over your suit and if one of your nosy neighbours saw you like that you would never hear the end of it. And if they saw the shiny necklace in your bag they would bombard you with questions and gossip about it later. Finally after what felt like eternity you found the keys and with a relieved smile you opened the door. You could still feel his touch on your body…

You were greeted by the loud meowing of your beloved cat, Migsy.

"Yeah, I missed you too, baby" You chuckled, gently patting her head. "I will give you all my love when I patch myself up." You sighed heavily and headed to the bathroom. Your apartment wasn't really big- you had a bathroom, kitchen, living room and a bedroom with a little balcony attached to it. It was enough for you. Determined to make this house a home you spent hours painting the murals on your walls and decorating them with your art and photos. People loved spending time in your apartment- it was so green and fresh because of all the plants scattered across the floor. You always took good care of them and even gave them names. It might have been childish, but it made you happy and that was the only thing that mattered.

You would love nothing but to collapse on your green bubble couch and watch some shitty TV, but you had to take care of yourself first. There was no one else who could do that for you.

The rest of your night was filled with frustrated sobs as you stitched yourself up and the sound of music playing in the background that you put on to calm your nerves. The music didn't help though and you were still a nervous mess. Your head was filled with many thoughts about the man behind the spider-man mask. This little game the two of you played was getting dangerous. You realised it one night after you dreamed about kissing him- you told yourself it was nothing more than a silly crush to make yourself feel better. The man was very attractive after all. At least his body was because you have never seen his face. And that was another one of your problems- you yearned to know who he was behind the mast. Were his eyes brown or green? Did he have dimples when he smiled? Would his lips feel good against yours?

"Meow!" Migsy's cry snapped you out of your daydream.

"Oh, yeah, sorry baby," you apologised, quickly bandaging your wound. "I'm all yours now." You gave your furry roommate a gentle smile and picked her up. "It's time for us to sleep, don't you think?" You talked to the cat and she looked at you with her pretty yellow eyes.

You laid down on your bed, hugging the animal closer you your chest and her soft purring made you relax into the cold pillow.

You fell asleep, hoping that the Spider-man won't visit you in your dreams this time.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡ chapter 2 ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Tag list: @serpentstarr @bucketluvr @nxrdamp

[willowsnook]

Heeeey ❤️ Would you do an imagine where Y/N is Buckys girlfriend and also part of the team but one time it happens she get accidentally shot by John Walker and nearly dies and Bucky gets furious about that, so Sam has to keep him back from hurting him as well. Then they stay by your side and take care of you. Maybe Sam offers you both to stay in Louisiana with him and Sarah for your recovery and it's just all fluffy ? Hope this is fine 🥰

Bucky Barnes x gf!reader

a/n: i haven't watched falcon winter soldier in so long so this is going to be an original scene lol

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You hummed along to a song that was stuck in your head as you scrolled through twitter while on the jet. Your bf Bucky was locked in for the mission and staring straight ahead. He always tried to disassociate for these missions mostly so he didn't get distracted being overprotective of you even though you could handle yourself just fine.

Sam sat next to you fiddling with his hands before going over the objective once again.

"Okay so we think that Hydra has a secret office here with classified files on the US government," he said for the millionth time. "Y/n, you sweep the perimeter, I'll break inside with Bucky covering me."

"Yes sir," you said saluting him. He rolled his eyes as Bucky gave you a warning look. He was always annoyed at you for not taking this seriously. But you found that being confident was more efficient for your work style and caused fewer mistakes. When you lost Natasha a year ago the world ended. You wanted out of the game but your healing process ended up including a certain winter soldier. He had given you the spark of life back so your new viewpoint was that life was too short to not be happy.

The jet landed in a field near the target zone and the three of you stalked your way closer to the building. Sam gave me the hand signal I was waiting for and I slipped off from the boys to make sure no one was hiding in the perimeter. As I continued on I could hear Bucky and Sam in my ear piece, it sounded like the building was clear and they were inside now.

I came to a halt when I saw a familiar red, white, and blue number peering out of a window. Fucking John Walker. This dude was a pain in the ass. He hadn't spotted me yet so I scaled the side of the building before slipping into the same room as him. He was still looking out the window as I cleared my throat. He whirled around pulling his gun.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I asked irritably. He lowered his weapon when he realized it was me.

"Probably the same thing as you sweetheart," he said with his stupid charming smile. I could hear Bucky growl through my earpiece at his term of endearment.

"Still playing make-believe superhero?" I taunted and his smile dropped. He started to say something else but we heard a crashing noise come from above. Both of us had our weapons drawn immediately. I held my finger to my lips before creeping out the door of the room. There was nothing there. I turned around to come back in and heard another big crash and then a gunshot. I looked down to my stomach to see blood starting to pool out and back up at John whose face paled.

"Shit shit shit, i'm sorry I panicked," he said coming towards me. I sunk back against a wall and to the floor breathing heavy.

"Y/n! Are you hurt? Where are you? We are coming" Bucky said through the earpiece.

John put his hands on your wound holding down pressure but after a minute he was ripped off of you and flying into the opposite wall. Through hazy eyes you could see Bucky pounding into him while Sam was trying to hold you back. The last thing you saw was Bucky's bloody face looking over at you before everything went black.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Your eyes fluttered open and you felt a warm summer breeze brush against your skin. You were in an unfamiliar bedroom with windows drawn open overlooking a grassy field leading up to water. You tried to sit up but your lower abdomen jolted with pain and you took a deep breath. You were wearing sweatpants with a big tshirt that you knew to be your boyfriend's. Speaking of him, your eyes found him sprawled out on a couch at the end of the room.

"Bucky," you whispered and he sprang up. He looked like shit. He had bags under his eyes and clearly hadn't brushed his hair in days. "You look like shit." He laughed weakly as he slowly walked towards you. You could see he was trying to keep it together as he got closer to you.

"Where are we?" You asked him. He sat down on the bed next to you.

"Louisiana doll, at Sam's sister's place," he replied, He brought his hand up to your cheek stroking it lightly like you would break. You reached up and took his hand in yours.

"I'm okay," you told him and he let out a shaky breath.

"You almost died," he choked out and you pulled his head into your chest. He breathed deeply and you ran your fingers through his hair.

"But I didn't," you pointed out and he grumbled. You noticed his hand that was wrapped around you was bruised and you remembered back him and John.

"Did you kill him?" You asked quietly. Bucky rose his head to look at you.

"I wanted to, but no," he said. You patted the spot next to you and he lay there not letting you go. "I will kill him the next time I see him." You rolled your eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine." Bucky started to argue but you held your finger to his lips. "I love you."

"I love you too, doll."

[thedrarrylibrarian]

Hi! Do you know of any fics where Draco is a rich/powerful businessman? Maybe muggle au’s?

Hello! Your holds have arrived!

I think I've got the exact kind of vibes you're looking for! I hope you enjoy these fics! And as a bonus, be sure to check out this excellent art by @ano-ka-ba.

Rich/powerful businessman Draco

The Potters' Pool Party by @darcyshire (7,453 words, rated T)

When 12-year-old Scorpius is invited to a pool party, worried father Draco insists on tagging along for the sake of safety. By the time Draco realizes whose family is hosting, it's too late for him to back out.

i stay by @hogwartsfirebolt (9,104 words, rated M)

The darkening sky is dangerous for the shape of Harry’s desire, it makes it seem reasonable, as though it were a natural conclusion of having Draco once again within reach, rather than the mirage it actually is.

Seeking: pet carer for Bartholomew (four-year old rescue greyhound, no special needs) by @gallifrey1sburning (14,694 words, rated E)

When Draco’s boyfriend ends their relationship rather abruptly (and, frankly, extremely rudely), he leaves Draco with full-time responsibility for their rescue greyhound, Bartholomew. Draco loves his dog with all his heart, but the long hours he works at his law firm mean that he can’t possibly be home as much as Bartholomew needs. Enter Sirius Pet Care, an app designed to solve this very problem! When Draco books Harry, he’s relieved at how quickly the man and his dog bond. He’s less relieved by how unexpectedly, distractingly attractive Harry turns out to be… and how Draco’s afternoon meetings keep being “mysteriously” cancelled, meaning that he JUST HAPPENS to be home when Harry comes by. After all, it’s not appropriate to ogle one’s employees… right?

to be where I'm going (in the sunshine of your love) by theweightofmywords (19,080 words, rated E)

"He imagined Draco’s smile, all gums and slightly crooked teeth, his hair slicked back with Pacific water, and he knew: He’d travel as long as he’d need to if it meant he’d see that face. If it meant that Draco would hear the message he’d been carrying for so long. Maybe he didn’t have to travel the road alone anymore."

Draco and Harry go on a road trip together. It's about the journey, not the destination.

Uptown Downtown by Sbpagel (29,134 words, rated E)

Draco Malfoy is the spoiled, entitled, pretentious heir to Malfoy Constructions. James Black is a mystery, wrapped in an enigma and tied together with a puzzle.

it was a bad idea ('cause now I'm even more lost) by @all-drarry-to-me (36,446 words, rated T)

When Draco is told his green card is denied and he must return to England, he does the only thing he can think of and starts a fake relationship with the one available person in the room: Harry. The plan is simple — until feelings get involved.

When Trust and Truth Collide by silvergalaxy (47,374 words, rated E)

Harry meets Draco for the first time in the employee break room on a boring Wednesday morning and they immediately hit it off. Chance encounters turn into dates, and dates turn into feelings.

Oh, yeah. Draco's also Harry's boss. Harry has no idea.

Burn the Witch by @lettersbyelise (95,800 words, rated E)

When Harry Potter is sent in to investigate Draco Malfoy’s successful potions company, posing as Draco’s bodyguard, he doesn’t know the case will launch a series of events that will change his life — and Draco’s.

A story about choices, scars, Chopin piano pieces, and finding all kinds of love in the most unexpected places.

Pages of You by @wolfpants (101,717 words, rated E)

Summer, 1980. Harry is floating between university and becoming a Real Certified Adult. He's not ready. He really isn't.

In a desperate attempt to have the Best Last Summer ever, he takes a casual job at his godfather's bookshop in London, starts an illicit pen pal affair with a wordy posh boy that he's catching feelings for, all while dealing with the son of Sirius's business rival, one Draco Malfoy, insufferable know-it-all extraordinaire.

A story about trying to figure out who you are, where you're going in life, and who you want to take along with you.

❤️ As always, if you find a fic you enjoy, please remember to leave the author a kudos or a comment! ❤️

Lots of Love and Happy Reading!

[sweptawayghost]

Light My Fire Pt.2

JOEL MILLER X READER

DUEL POV

Word count 6.9K

Chapter warning: male masturbation, mentions of alcohol, age gap, mention of guns, slow burn, pov,flirting, friends to lovers, mentions of choking, angst, fluff, no use of Y/N, The R word gets used but nothing like that happens.

Chapter summary: Let the delicate dance begin. As winter fast approaches Jackson we try to head out on one more supply run before the weather gets too bad.  

We wake up with our toxic ex in our bed… again. 

This will be a slow burn 

Anything written in italic indicates someone talking to themselves.

///

YOU

I always loved fall. I loved the colours of the leaves and the sounds they made when crushed. I loved lighting fires and being curled up underneath blankets. Books seemed to be more interesting in the fall. The summer sun would feel like a slap to the face compared to how it would softly kiss your skin in the fall, even on the hotter days. Sometimes it felt like saying goodbye to someone you didn't want to leave. Soon the snow would start up and the real challengers would begin. 

I open my eyes to the non-stop thumping in my temples. I look over at my window, the curtain softly bloating with the breeze coming in from the open window. Glancing over at my clock reading ‘4:56 am’ 

I throw my feet off the edge of the mattress and gaze out of the window, the moon looks so beautiful, it casts my room in a ghostly grey, making outside look so ominous and gloomy.  

Leaving the warmth of my bed in favour of a hot shower. Along with the insistent thumping of my front door is the soft rhythmic snore of the man that lay in my bed. Fuck, I almost forgot he was here. 

Dean Hickman.

I cast a look back at him, he looked so peaceful laying there, the glow of the moon on his face, half of his naked body hanging out of the blanket on my bed, his hair sticking out every which way. I'll admit, I had been spellbound by his charm on more than one occasion. Last Night may have been one of those times. All it takes is one look into his hazel eyes and one sly knowing smile, a few suggestive words and before you know it you're falling into bed with him. Not to mention he was tall and tanned and could crush you with the muscles in his arms and god knows he had plenty to work with in bed… He just wasn't that good. 

The passion was there, the moves were there and he was great looking but he was just always way more concerned about getting himself over the line. Call it for what it is. He's a selfish lover who doesn't give head, doesn't know how to find a G spot, doesn't understand how to work your clit even after you've shown him on more than one occasion and really doesn't care if you come or not. 

Jackson didn't have the largest pool of men to play with so when a good-looking man like Dean comes into your life it's kind of hard to say no. There was a time when I called him mine. He was sweet and thoughtful and he knew all the right things to say, but then he started stumbling in late, whisky leavy on his breath and the smell of another woman hung from him. 

I remember the night he hit me. He was drunk out of his mind and the next morning he didn't even remember it. That was the final straw for me. If it hadn't been for that I would have put up with his cheating, his drinking, his screaming and shouting. 

When I told him it was over he threw himself at my feet, telling me he's sorry, that he loves me, that he wants me to have his babies, and it'll never happen again. It didn't take him long to fall into bed with one of his neighbours though. 

I told myself I wouldn't fall back into his clutches… but some nights are long, some nights are cold, some nights you just need to fuck. At least he could be of some use. 

I slip out of the room leaving his sleeping form sprawled out on the bed. I can still feel the mess he made between my legs and my body feels heavy with a layer of dried sweat. 

I let the warm water from the shower run over my body as if the water would wash away the feeling of shame lingering on my skin. I should start kicking him out during the night. If people see him leaving here in the morning I may as well just scream “I GOT LAID LAST NIGHT” in the middle of town. 

I didn't want to think about it today. I needed a clear head, a clean canvas, today I was important to the community.

Today I had patrol. 

Today I had patrol with a new partner. 

Joel Miller

Of course, I knew who he was, everyone did. Entering Jackson was like entering a small town where everyone knows everyone, everyone knows new faces, everyone likes to gossip, everyone knows who's sick, who's working where, everyone knows when you burp, fart or cough. 

He only lives a few doors down from me and I've walked past his house almost every morning since he's been here. Maybe don't tell him you know where he lives, might seem creepy. 

I know I can be hard to get along with, I'm not the easiest to talk to right away, I know I can be dismissive and blunt. It might be easy for people to forget about what's outside of these walls, but I won't. I can't. I don't like the folk who like to think everything is sunshine and flowers just because they don't have to leave the comfort and safety of jackson. The comfort and safety that I helped build and I continue to provide. 

///

“Hey” I slap Dean's shoulder where it pokes out from the blanket “You gotta go I'm heading out” 

He snapped his head up quickly in my direction, irritation flashed on his face for a moment. He inhales deeply through his nose and rubs his eye with the tips of his fingers “What time is it?” he asks, his voice coming out deep and crackling as he rolls over. 

“Time for you to get the fuck out” I whirl around my room picking up his clothes from the foot of the bed before throwing them at him and finding my own. I pull my favourite knitted sweater over my head. The one that I've patched up more times than I can remember because I refuse to let it die. 

“You don't have to be such a bitch you know” Dean spits out at me as he pulls his Jeans up his legs. 

Fuck here we go

“Dean, as much as I enjoy your ‘morning after dramatics’ I really don't have the time for it this morning” He does this every time. The thing with Dean is he can be so sweet and charismatic, he’ll charm your pants off and take you right to the edge. But as soon as the sun starts to rise the next morning he's the worst person you've met and the biggest asshole you’ll meet. It's like the magic spell wears off. Just when you think he's a prince he turns back into a frog. 

I leave him in the bedroom, muttering about how much of a bitch I am or how I'm not worth the hassle or something, I don't really listen, in a few days' time, he’ll come crawling back. He always does. And I always let him. I'm not sure why I let myself fall into his clutches time and time again. Maybe I'm just looking for a warm body to lay next to. Maybe I just want someone to kiss me and make me feel wanted. Maybe I'm just lonely. 

I watch him emerge from my room, leaning against the kitchen counter with a cup of coffee in my hands. He reaches for his coat that's been abandoned on the back of the couch before reaching for his boots near the front door. He only casts me one sideways look with an ugly scowl on his usually handsome face. What does he want me to do? Cry? Say I'm sorry? He does this every fucking time. 

He reaches for my front door, ripping it open before trying the fly wire door that constantly sticks to the door jam. He pushes on it once, twice, three times, really putting his weight into it before he gives up and just kicks it almost clean off its hinges. 

“Fix this fucking door!” he shouts at me from across the room pointing a finger in my direction before he starts down my porch steps and into the street. 

I cross the distance from the kitchen to the front door “Asshole!” I shout at him before he turns around and flips me off. I return the gesture. 

I look down, assessing the damage to the door. The bottom hinges blown apart with the metal all twisted. The handle that once sat on the inside now lays just inside the doorway being ripped off completely. Now I have one more thing to fix around here. 

I pull on my boots and my pack, throwing in the sandwiches I made yesterday as well as some jerked meat and an old beaten-up metal drink bottle.

I stepped out the door, closing it behind me and leaving the wire door where it now sits. 

I start towards the stables. Knowing that patrol will take my mind off this morning's dramatics. It's a chance for me to escape, out there I have one job. I don't have to think about all the things that need to be done around here. All the things I should be doing right now and all the things that I should have started weeks ago. 

I really need to split and store some more wood before I run out of time.

I should go back to that woodshed before it snows.

I should pick up one of my knitting projects.

I should really start thinking about cleaning my gutters as well. I really don't wanna do that shit, can I just trade with someone to do it?

Now I can add ‘fix wire door’ to the never-ending list. 

The walk to the armoury isn't far and I really didn't mind it especially when the days started getting colder. As I approached the warm smiley face of Clay was waiting for me on the other side of the desk.

“I heard you were taking out the new Miller brother today,” Clay said as she leaned over the desk in my direction, her lips turned up in a big bright smile. 

She was part of the small handful of people I actually liked to talk to. Her hair sat just below her ear, a few dark strands hovering around her face, it was just that bit too short to tie up, during the summer months she would ask me to french braid it to keep it out of her face while she worked. Here's an idea Clay, don't cut it so short next time. Her dark eyes looked so glossy and bright in the morning light. God, you're a sucker for anyone with brown eyes, aren't you.  

For a moment I considered telling her about what happened with Dean this morning but thought better of it. Clay runs hot. When she cares she cares a lot. I consider her a friend, maybe even my best friend, Even after we slept together. 

We both blamed the alcohol for that one. I don't regret it even for a second. I think if we had met at a different time, in a different place, maybe not at the end of the world we might have worked out. I think we were meant to love each other but not be IN love with each other. There's a difference.

“Yeah, Tommy thinks it’ll be good for him to get out, apparently he’s chomping at the bit” I signed out one rifle in my name and the other I marked ‘J.M’ 

Ha! It’d be funny if his middle name was Aaron or Arnold then his initials would spell JAM. 

 “Well, good luck with him. I heard he's an asshole” she said while walking somewhere towards the back of the armoury, before reemerging with two rifles.

“But god is he handsome, even for an old guy” She slides the rifles across the desk in my direction. She has this far-off look in her eye, like she's remembering his face. 

“As long as he doesn't get me killed I couldn't give a fuck how much of an asshole he is” I chose to ignore the handsome part. 

“Speaking of assholes…” Clay trails off. I offer her a scowled expression as I let my imagination predict the direction this conversation is headed. 

“I saw Dean leaving your place this morning” 

Shit

At least I don't have to feel bad about lying to her. 

///

I headed for the stables after receiving an in-depth lecture from Clay about the dangers of falling into bed with Dean. She should give that talk to every eighteen-year-old in Jackson.

My mind didn't stay on The topic of Dean for long. I had so many other things to think about. Bigger things. Things that actually mattered. As I saddled up the horses my mind was swimming with the never-ending to-do list in my head. In a lot of ways, patrol felt like an escape from my responsibilities. 

I wondered how many more chances I would be able to get out before the weather got too bad. I wondered when the snow would start. I wondered how the food supply was looking for the winter. I wondered what day it was. Like what the date was and not just a guess we made that everyone agreed on. I should speak to Tommy about doing more supply runs before it gets too dangerous.

Yep, I'd rather be outside the gates, risking my ass than stay here and chop wood or check my roof for leaks.

I made my way to Jackson gates, the leather from the reins felt like butter in my hand, like they had been oiled recently. The weight of the rifles on my back felt more like a hug than deadweight and the soft morning light felt like a kiss. 

That's the first time I really looked at Joel Miller. 

I had seen him, and I could recognise his face and pick him out of a crowd but today felt like the first time I really looked at him. 

His eyes looked tired. 

I saw the lines in his face especially the ones between his brows

The way his jaw ticked when he clenched his teeth

The scar across his nose. 

The scratches and dents in the skin of his hands from years of fighting. And winning. 

He looked like a man who was forced to become what he is. 

a man who was made for so much more than what he is

A man who needed to be hugged, to be held, to be loved. To be seen as more than just the monster the world has turned him into. 

 ///

I spent all night thinking about him. He had this haunted look. Every time I looked into his eyes I felt like I could drown in them. Like I was going to be taken under. 

I noticed the way he would constantly twitch his right hand, like he was gripping something that wasn't there and I noticed small sparse patches in his facial hair, I noticed the broken shoelace that had been tied back together on his left shoe and I noticed the broken watch he wore on his left wrist.  

I didn't know it at the time but tomorrow would change the way I saw him. Tomorrow I would see a spark in his eyes. Tomorrow I would notice the bulge of his arms against his shirt. Tomorrow I would notice how adorable he looked when he smiled. Tomorrow I would offer him that bottle of Seth's home-brewed bourbon that I was saving for a special occasion. Tomorrow I would study the angels of his face and commit them to memory. Tomorrow I would give him his pistol back, the one that Tommy stole from him when he arrived here.

I didn't know it at the time but in a week he would be splitting wood for me in the backyard and fixing shit around my house. He would ask about the front door and I'll lie to him. In a week I'd be offering to mend his favourite pair of socks and offering to show Ellie because everyone should know how to sow. 

In two weeks I would be inviting him on more of my unofficial patrols. I would be going over for dinners and meeting him before sun up for coffee before we were expected on patrol. In two weeks He would be rolling off my couch in the morning after one night of heavy drinking. He could have walked home but I liked that he stayed. Ellie would be coming over after school. I think she liked having someone to talk to, someone who wouldn't judge her, someone who treated her as an adult and not just another fifteen-year-old. 

I just didn't know it yet. 

______________________

Joel 

///

I woke to find myself in a pool of sweat… again. 

Where I used to wake up from nightmares, I now wake up from dreams of you. 

I don't think you realised what you did to me. Every little touch, the brush of your fingertips against my arm, the way you grabbed a fistful of my hair that was beginning to grow out of control and would start falling into my face “You need a haircut miller” you had told me. I believe your touch was innocent but it lit a fire in my gut. 

I liked the way you pulled me, you pushed me, you ran your fingers through my hair, you traced bruises and scars that you saw. I liked it when you touched me. I liked when you smiled at me and I liked when you scowled at me. You would yell at me, you would cry to me, you would laugh at my stupid jokes and you would leave my home with an article of clothing that needed a hole patched up or to take the hem up on something for Ellie. Some of my things never came back to me but I didn't mind. 

Some nights I wouldn't go back to sleep and instead lay staring at the ceiling watching the light shift as morning broke through the night. Some nights I would think about you, what were you doing?

Were you thinking about me? 

Do you know I think about you?

What do you sound like when you touch yourself?

That was most nights lately. 

Now, I know I said it would only be one time but I couldn't help myself. I tried not to think about you, really I tried. I just couldn't help it. The way you smile at me, the way you smell, your laugh. Some nights I found myself rutting against the bed for relief, eyes sealed shut and whimpering for you, wishing you were here underneath me. Talking me through it. Telling me how good I'm making you feel. I wanted to see your eyes roll back as I worked you through your orgasm, mouth agape, moaning into my ear. I know you would sound so pretty for me.

God get a grip of yourself, Miller.

If I had to be honest with myself, It was scary how badly I wanted you. My body felt like it was engulfed in flames when I came thinking about you. 

My body stuttered as I held a death grip on the bathroom sink or the sheets beneath me. I imagined you smiling at me. Looking so fucking proud of yourself for how crazy you made me. How desperate and needy you made me. How you would let me finish inside of you because I was so good to you and I deserved it.

The lonely, empty feeling would catch up to me pretty quickly after. Some nights it was easy to lull myself back to sleep, other nights I wasn't as lucky. 

I would replay conversations we had. Like the time we were stumbling home from the Bison one night, you grabbed hold of my arm as we walked through the streets. I didn't know if it was just because you were drunk or maybe your hands were cold but I liked it regardless. 

You had told me how the silence of the streets was sometimes deafening. How sometimes it felt worse than being outside the walls. I couldn't have agreed more. 

I told you about how I found it hard to sleep and about how guilty I felt to be here and to be alive. 

I trusted you but I'm sure the abundance of bourbon in my system had a lot to do with the confession. 

If I hadn't just met you I would tell you everything. I would tell you about Sarah, I'd tell you the truth about Ellie. I would tell you about the ache in my chest when I wake up and I'd tell you how much it’s eased since I’ve met you. I'd tell you about how much I like you being around. You'd probably think I’m insane if you knew how much I think about you.

She trusts you, Joel. Don't fuck this up by letting your dick do your thinking for you. 

She's your friend, she trusts you and you're laying in bed thinking about how good it would be to creampie her. You’re fucked up.

///

There had been many nights since the two of us first drank together. I think we both needed it as badly as the other. Each time we got a little more comfortable with each other. Maybe we got a little too close, maybe eyes lingered a little too long and maybe the interlocking of fingers felt like more than just a friendly exchange. 

Sometimes I felt bad for it, sometimes I felt like I was dumping all my shit onto your plate that had just as much shit as mine. Sometimes I thought I should be demanding Ellie to stay home so we could spend time together, but teenagers are teenagers. At least I didn't have to worry about her going too far and no matter where she was there would be a gun nearby. 

But tonight I didn't feel guilty. After the week I had endured I think I earned a night of drinking and while I sat looking at you next to me on the couch I felt myself relax, my head was swimming with the alcohol in my system and the heat from the fireplace making me feel like I was going to melt into the couch. I loved nights like this. 

The last time I sat here with you I told you about the pit in my stomach and the hole in my heart. I told you about the nightmares I have almost every night when I close my eyes and the suffocating feelings that follow me when I wake up. I may have been drunk when I told you but I remember it clear as day. I could feel you searching for my eyes, but I couldn't look at you. I felt so weak. I closed my eyes trying to hide the evident emotion. I heard the shuffled movements as you closed the gap between us. 

I felt your hand on the back of my neck, the tips of your fingers cold despite the heat from the fire. You pulled me into the crook of your neck, resting my head on your shoulder and wrapping your arm around my middle. 

And for the first time in a long time, I let someone see the soft parts of me. The broken parts. I let my body relax in your embrace, I let my shoulder drop and I unclenched my teeth before wrapping my arms around your middle, letting my fingers interlock behind your back.  

You smelt divine. I felt the warmth coming off your body and the feeling of your hand in my hair was intoxicating and when you said “You’re okay, baby” You whispered into my hair I wanted to rip your clothes off and ruin you. 

Baby

Did you mean to say it? 

Baby

Or Did you call everyone that?

Baby

When I woke up the next morning you were still holding me, my head resting against your stomach, my chest pressed between your legs with both hands pressed into your back and one of your hands resting on my shoulder with the other one tangled in my hair. 

The fire was no more than dying embers in the hearth, I would have noticed the chill in the air more if it weren't for the blanket that was draped over my body and the heat coming off your body.

I ignored the ache in my back and the cramping in my hip that I was slumped over on as I looked over your sleeping form. You looked almost angelic in the soft morning glow that was flooding through your windows, the soft swell of your breasts pushing on the fabric of your shirt. My shirt. One that you stole from me. Your hair falls so lazily over one of the couch cushions, the slow rise and fall of your chest. If I were a worse man, the things I would do to you right now. 

“Joel, are you listening?” 

The sound of your voice breaks me from the memory, my attention snaps back to where you sit across from me on the couch. At this point, I consider this couch more of a home than the house I live in. I find myself here more often than not and on multiple occasions Ellie has also felt it was home. It felt like an old friend welcoming you home after you've been gone for a while. 

“I just missed the last part” I leaned over to pour myself another drink from the bottle that sat on the small nightstand on “my side of the couch”. Your words, not mine. I hear a huff escape your lips as you extend your own glass out to me, signalling for a refill. 

It was so cute when you faked irritation. 

“If you weren't so handsome I would slap the shit out of you” You pulled the glass back and threw back a swig before continuing, “I said…” I tried to concentrate on the next part but I let my eyes wash over your form. You were wearing that massive sweater again, the one that swallowed you up. A thick pair of woollen socks hugged your feet but your legs were out on full display in a pair of sleep shorts. My sleep shorts. Another thing you stole from me with the promise of “repairing it” never to be seen again. Oh wait shit she's talking to me. Stop staring at her legs. 

“We’d be out for three nights. We aren't expecting snow for another week but if it starts early and we’re still out there we turn back immediately, yeah?” You're Not asking, you're telling. “There's a string of supply sheds that haven't been checked on in a while. Tommy wants us to check them out before the weather turns on us”  

You could ask me to crawl across broken glass with hot coals on my back just to lick mud off your feet and I'd do it. 

“Yeah it's not a problem” that's probably the better answer. 

///

One thing I really liked about you was the fact that you didn't get small talk. You would ask me questions about my life before the outbreak, which made me feel really old, given you were only a child at the time. 

You would ask me what colour my first bike was or how old I was when I shaved for the first time. Tonight You asked me about my first serious girlfriend. 

It was the first night of our non-official patrol and possibly the last one until springtime. 

And while we had anticipated snow we didn't expect it to be raining sideways. Normally a fire is a surefire way to get into trouble but tonight we needed it, we were both soaked to the bone after spending the last hour looking for a somewhat secure structure to sleep for the night. 

The rain coming down so hard it muffled any noise the pair of you made and the wind picked up the smoke from the fire and carried it away into the night. 

"Hmm, I think her name was Stacy?" I said it more like a question than an answer

“Or was it Lacie?” 

I clicked my fingers before shooting my answer at you “No! It was Macie” 

I looked at your face from across the dancing flames. You looked tired. Your hair was drenched and the whipping of the wind left your cheeks red and blotchy. 

“Do you think you loved her? At the time” you asked from across the fire. You were laid down on your side with your head propped up on your arm. 

I can count on one hand how many girls I actually loved in my life and Lacie. no, wait… Macie. Definitely wasn't one of them. 

“No” I dropped my gaze and looked into the fire. The colour of late autumn leaves. “I was young and love wasn't really the first thing on my mind”  I didn't mind that it sounded cruel, I didn't need to lie to you. 

 I told you about the movies we would go see and the music we would listen to “Most of the stuff she liked was crap but I told her I liked it” I was a horny teenager what do you expect. I Would describe the creek we would go swimming in that summer and how we would ride our bikes around town before I saved enough money for a car. 

 "What kind of car did you drive?" I found it cute that you asked. As if it held any importance. 

"It was a red pickup truck, a hunk of shit really but it was mine" I felt like a doddering old man telling you stories about my past glory days. You would look at me and your eyes would sparkle like I was telling you the most interesting story in the world, mouth slightly open, hanging off my every word. I would tell you anything you wanted to hear as long as you would keep looking at me like that. 

“ I wish I was lucky enough to have a car” you said, turning over onto your stomach bringing your elbows up to support the weight of your head. 

You meant it sincerely but I remember that car very well. It has ripped-up fabric seats, no plastic covering on the dashboard, wires hung from under the steering wheel, no air conditioning and only the driver's side window went down and the fuel gauge didn't always tick so there was more than one occasion that I would be stranded on the side of the road with an empty tank. “It wasn't a prize by any means but it was special to me” You looked at me from across the fire, studying my expression. The smile that was lacing your lips now falls as the look of mischief overtakes your eyes. “Did you fuck her in the back?” and suddenly the space we share is too small, you're too close and the fire is too hot.

You asked me so blankly as if you were just asking me how my day was. 

I felt the flush creep up my neck and cheeks, the grin that spread over your face said ‘I'm trying to make you uncomfortable’. This was a look I've become all too familiar with. It was one you would flash me after one too many drinks, when the conversation would sway into dangerous places or when hands would linger a little too long. 

I didn't get to see it much when we were sober. 

I fucking hated when you looked at me like that.

I let my own lazy grin form on my lips while I looked at you, a shrug was the only reply I could offer. 

 “Wow, you're such a romantic Miller” Your face pulled up in a big grin that stretched across your face. The one I loved to see you wear. 

I blamed the heat of the fire when you pointed out the blush that still resided on my cheeks and neck. I blamed the day's hike for the numbness in my knees but I blamed you for the swelling of my cock. It's the way she looks at me, I can't help that. 

We agreed that I would watch at night and we would switch in the morning. I loved watching at night, I loved the sounds of the night and I loved that every other feeling in my body felt heightened and alert. I loved how night’s felt as if it would go on forever. But most of all, I loved looking down at your sleeping body that was now curled at my side, I loved the way the firelight bounced off your skin and I loved the sweet little moans and groans you would let out in your sleep. Like you were having the best dream of your life. 

“Goodnight, Joel” you whispered out to me before you drifted off. I knew once sleep had taken you under you would reach out for me, looking for some kind of contact whether it was me holding your hand or stroking your hair behind your ear. Some nights it was your arms wrapped around my upper thigh telling me to you. 

I could tell you hated sleeping alone.

///

“Wake up” 

The smell of coffee was the first thing to hit me the next morning. The second thing I noticed was the absence of your warm body curled up on the ground next to me. The third thing I noticed was the ache of my swollen cock as it pressed into the zip on my jeans. 

I Dreamt about you last night. 

I sat up, my lower body in the sleeping bag we packed and decided to share to save on space, seeing how only one of us would be sleeping at a time anyway. 

I stretched my neck feeling it pop as I moved it from left to right. I'm way too old to be sleeping on the ground. 

I looked over at you sitting at the foot of the sleeping bag, a knee propped up with your notebook leaning against it as you scribbled in it. A sight I have seen a million times now. You didn't go anywhere without that thing and I could give up my left testicle to read all your deepest darkest secrets.

 The worn dark leather held the pages together, there were newspaper clippings, stamps and postcards, elastic bands, paper clips, worn and ripped paper with rushed messy writing on them all jammed into the papers. I'd even seen you pick flowers and leaves that you thought were beautiful and press them into the pages. You also kept a hand pull of photographs that you had found. None of them were of your family or even of people you knew. You told me as long as you had the photographs these peoples memories would live on. 

I'd love to see all the notes you kept, all the things you never told me. I'd love to see what made you tick, to rip open your head and dig around in it. That journal would have to do though. You had confided in me about the mistakes you had made and some of the things you did to get here. You had told me about your love life, not that you had to say a lot. I could always tell when you had spent the night with Dean… mainly because I could see your front door from my front door. 

  it never seemed like it was enough. I needed more. 

You'd spoken briefly about your family, your early years in Jackson and your old patrol partner. Oh yeah, your old patrol partner. 

You had only brought him up once before which was what intrigued me the most. I should just ask Tommy, that bastard can't lie for shit. 

The soft slap of pages closing broke my string of thought. 

“Good morning” 

______

YOU

I loved doing Morning watches. I loved the sound of the birds as they woke, i loved watching the sun come up and i loved the crisp air that invaded my lungs. I loved watching Joel sleep, it's almost comical the way his broad shoulders and long legs dont fit into the sleeping bag. I loved brewing fresh coffee and stoking the fire as he lay there, he looked so peaceful. 

I took a sip of coffee from a beat up metal cup before looking down the admire my latest journal entry; 

Dear diary, today was the best day ever!

Just kidding its still the end of the fucking world and and i could have been beaten an raped in my sleep lastnight if it wasnt for the man laying two feet away from me. Funny to think about how adorable he looks right now compared to the animal that everyone claims he is. Not that i want to test him or anything. 

This is morning two of what’s supposed to be a four day journey. The wind feels like it's grating my skin and the rain hasn't let up. I think we left at the worst possible time. 

There's a fire tower about two miles away from where we are now, we are meant to be checking out as well as a few other stations before the snow but shit happens i guess. I think i'll let Joel sleep for a bit longer, i can tell he needs it. When he wakes up I'm gonna tell him we are heading home. If I told him why we were really out here I bet he would think I was an idiot for making him come out here. And if he found out tommy knew the reason he would be double pissed. Maybe I'll tell him when we get home. 

I had a dream about him last night. And it's not the first one I've had but it was the most vivid one. Feels weird to write it down but whatever, if anyone reads this I'll just kill them. 

In my dream we were having sex in the back of his truck, the one he told me about lastnight. But it wasn't just like normal boring sex that I'd have with Dean, it was raw and rough and animalistic, he was biting me and slapping my face and sucking on my tongue before spitting in my mouth. I woke up so fucking horny i almost ripped my clothes off and begged him to fuck me. 

Anyway. Tommy had asked me to try and set him up on a date with a few of the women in Jackson, which I'm not overly thrilled about. I would let him do unspeakable things to me.  

Joel moans alot in his sleep. I wonder if he's dreaming about me the way I've been dreaming about him… or if he's having a horrific nightmare that I need to wake him up from.  

I sit for a moment studying Joel's face as I sketch it out next to the latest entry. I wish i had a camera. 

/// 

It had been a few days since we returned. We made it to the fire tower regardless of the rain and the wind that threatened to sweep me off my feet. 

I remember how fucking cold i was. How my toes felt like they were going to fall off, my socks soaked to the bone, my nose was red where I had continuously crushed it with the back of my glove to collect the snot that was leaking from it. Very sexy. I stepped into the spray of the shower letting the hot water thaw my flesh giving me full body pins and needles. 

I Let Tommy know that the other supply shakes will just have to wait now. At least we know they’re there if we are in an absolute crisis.

I should tell Joel what's in the shed’s. I'm not sure if he’ll laugh or be angry at me. I don't want him to be angry.  

Right now I just felt bad enough about dragging him out there with me. I'll leave it for the moment, let him rest and recover and get something warm in his stomach. 

I felt a flush of heat rise in my gut as I thought about Joel and that dream I had. I let my hand slide between my legs as I massaged the aching bundle of nerves that had been calling my name. “Good girl” I could imagine the words sliding off his tongue with that silky southern drawl. This won't take long.   

After my shower I got into my cosiest clothes. One of Joel's flannels that had gone missing when I stole it so I could fix it and a pair of sweatpants as well as my thickest pair of socks. 

As I made my way into the kitchen, contemplating what to eat to soothe the growl in my stomach, there was a knock at my door. 

Throwing all my weight into pulling the door open, I stumbled back a little before looking up at the figure that filled my doorway. None other than Dean Hickman with a shit eating grin on his face and a knowing look in his eye.

“Hey Beautiful” 

He's not Joel but I can use my imagination. 

///

If you'd like to be tagged just let me know :)

@oscarissac2099

@alien-consummation