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nerdycheol · 8 days ago

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A Seat Across from You

☘︎ pairings: choi seungcheol x reader [afab]

☘︎ warnings: strangers to lovers(?), fluff, a lots and lots of slowburn, reader is annoyingly dumb, miscommunication, too much running away & avoiding

☘︎ wc: 9.5k

(a/n): FOR YUKI'S 100 MILESTONE EVENT!! do check out everyone else's work too, they're all are amazing!! I had sm fun writing this. thankyou lexi (@ikeukiss ) for this amazinnggg banner <33 also thankyou to the ones who brainstormed ideas with me calli (@hhaechansmoless), yuki (@eclipsaria) daisy (@flowerwonu) ily'all smm :3 it was originally supposed to be this long, but i wanted to make it as natural as possible :| so forgive me and hope you like it ;) this is not proof read so ignore slight mistakes. tagging alaska (@cherry-zip) because i love them

playlist recommendation 🎵: traingazing-sam wills, sunny-rocco, from the start- laufey, dive- olivia dean, fool-kidsnot$aints, fall in love-jukjae, lily of the valley- daniel, l-o-v-e -rocco, hold me never let go- rocco

(inspired by traingazing- sam wills)

dividers by @cafekitsune

i’d love to hear your thoughts, i love reading your comments and seeing your reblogs! 💗

DAY 1

Morning comes the same way it always does — too soon, too cold, too reluctant to let you ease into it.

You woke up ten minutes late today. Not enough to send you into panic, but just enough to make the morning feel a bit rushed. Your sweater slightly mismatches your coat, but you tell yourself it’s fine. Your bag feels heavier than usual, though you can’t remember adding anything new to it.

The streets are damp from last night’s rain, and a few early risers move with purpose, clutching coffee cups like lifelines. You walk the familiar path to the station, following the same cracks in the pavement you always do.

The train is late today. Two minutes, maybe three. Enough to remind you that the world doesn’t run on your schedule.

When it finally arrives, you step in, immediately greeted by the usual low murmur of conversation, the shuffling of feet against the floor, the faint scent of someone’s too-strong cologne. You shift your bag higher on your shoulder, scanning the car for a spot, eyes moving without much thought.And that’s when you see him. He stands by the farthest door, one shoulder pressed against the glass, gaze turned outward.

You don’t know why you pause. Maybe it’s the way the early light spills across his face, casting faint shadows along the bridge of his nose and his sharp jawline. Or maybe it’s the way he seems entirely detached from the rush around him, earphones in, lost in something only he can hear.

He wears a brown high-neck sweater, the kind that looks soft even from a distance. One hand is tucked into his pocket, the other wrapped around the strap of a worn black backpack. His expression is unreadable—not bored, not impatient, just… distant.

You don’t think he notices you.

It’s silly, the way you keep looking. He’s just another passenger, someone you’ll probably never speak to, never know. But still, you watch him for a moment longer, as if memorizing this version of the morning before the spell breaks.

A man steps in front of you, shifting to adjust his briefcase. The moment lasts only a second, but when you glance back.

He’s gone.

You blink, scanning the space where he had been, but now, it’s empty.

For some reason, the thought lingers as the train lurches forward. You shake it off, exhaling softly. It’s nothing. Just another passing commuter, another stranger among many others.

As you grip the pole tightly, you wonder

Will he be here tomorrow?

DAY 2

The train doors slide open with a mechanical sigh, and you step in. Your usual spot is taken today by an older woman clutching a canvas tote, her head tilted forward in light sleep. So you move a little further down, fingers curling around the overhead rail.

And then you see him. You don’t mean to look, not really. But there he is again, standing in the exact same place as yesterday — leaning against the glass panel near the doors, hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. Today, a book rests in his grip, fingers idly turning a page as his gaze flickers across the words.

You wonder, briefly, if he ever misses his stop. If he ever gets so lost in thought that he forgets where he’s going.

The thought lingers for a second too long.

A jolt in the tracks sends the train swaying, and you glance away quickly, feeling oddly self-conscious. It’s nothing. Just another passenger in the sea of strangers.

And yet, when you step off at your stop, you catch yourself glancing back. Just once.

DAY 10

It’s been ten days since you first saw him. Ten mornings of stepping onto the same train, gripping the same pole, and watching him from the corner of your eye.

Every day, he’s there — leaning against the glass panel, the same sky-blue book in his hands, which makes you wonder if he ever really reads it. His hands are always in his pockets; sometimes, his gaze turns toward the window.

You don’t know when you start expecting to see him.

He’s just supposed to be another passenger, another face in the blur of morning commuters. But now… now, the moment you step onto the train, your eyes move without thinking, searching and waiting.

The next day comes like all the others. But lately, there’s one thing that makes the mornings feel less mundane.

You find yourself on the platform, scanning the crowd before you even realize what you’re doing. Maybe you’ll never know his name, never exchange a single word, but that doesn’t stop your mind from conjuring a thousand possibilities, fleeting thoughts that leave you restless.

The train arrives with a familiar hum, and as you step inside, your eyes instinctively seek him out.

There he is.

Standing in his usual spot, clad in a high-neck sweater and loose-fitted trousers. But today, something is missing — his book.

Instead of reading, he simply watches the city blur past, his reflection faintly mirrored in the window. One hand is tucked into his pocket, the other grips the strap of a worn brown suitcase.

And then his head tilts slightly.

For a brief second, a flicker of something unfamiliar stirs in your chest.

Is he looking at you?

The thought unsettles you more than it should. Your fingers tighten around your phone as you glance away too quickly, pretending to check the screen. A silly reaction. He’s probably just lost in thought, staring past you like people often do.

Even as you tell yourself that, the feeling still lingers.

DAY 11

You’re not a superstitious person. You never believe what people say about black cats crossing your path bringing bad luck. On the contrary, you feel good things happen to you when you see a black cat.

And weirdly enough, the man on the train feels like your black cat. It’s not that he actually brings good luck. It’s just that your day seems a little better whenever you see him.

Today, you oversleep. Miss your alarm. Burn your toast. Everything feels five steps behind as you shove your shoes on and fly out the door, heart pounding at the thought of the impending scolding from your manager for being late.

You’re breathless. Disoriented. Out of rhythm.

The train is already at the platform by the time you arrive, and you squeeze in just before the doors seal shut.

But it’s okay, you think — as long as I see him.

And then, your gaze lifts instinctively.

He’s not there.

Your eyes dart across the carriage — once, twice, again. Nothing. Just faces you don’t recognize. None of them are him.

Your heart sinks, and it shouldn’t. You know it shouldn’t. People have lives. Schedules change. Trains get missed.

Still, you lean your head against the glass, suddenly aware of how loud everything feels in his absence. The usual quiet thrill has dulled.

You spend the ride staring out the window. Trying to mimic the way he does it. Trying to imagine what he sees in the blur of grey buildings and sleepy streets.

It doesn’t work.

You get off at your stop and walk a little slower.

Funny, how much space a stranger can take up in your head.

DAY 13

Today, you see him again. And somehow, that alone makes you feel like the day might not be so bad after all.

You can’t find a seat in the morning rush, so you claim a spot near the door, your shoulder resting against the cool glass panel.

Just like any other day, he enters.

Today, he’s in a dark blue satin shirt tucked neatly under a black trench coat. He takes his usual place across from you, setting his suitcase down by his foot before pulling out the same sky-blue book he reads every day.

You squint slightly to catch the title — Ikigai. You make a quiet mental note to buy it later.

The train halts at the next station, and a new wave of commuters pours in. The space tightens. You try to brace yourself, but the crowd pushes you forward.

Your shoulder bumps into someone — him.

You freeze, flustered, about to apologize when he looks up from his book.

“Are you okay?” he asks, voice deep and smooth like velvet.

You nod, maybe a little too quickly, mumbling a quiet thanks before turning your face away, hoping the heat on your cheeks isn’t too obvious.

And then he smiles. A perfect little curve that deepens into a dimple.

Oh man.

If you weren’t in deep before — you are now.

DAY 20

It takes a whole twenty days for him to finally notice you.

Like any other day, he enters the train and occupies his spot near the door. This time, you happen to be standing beside him. Like clockwork, he pulls out the book, slides the bookmark free, and holds it between two fingers; eyes moving smoothly over the pages.

The train screeches to an abrupt stop between stations, and the lights overhead flicker once before settling into a dim, humming glow.

Around you, the usual groans begin. A man sighs dramatically. Someone taps their foot like it might make the train move faster. The lady next to you mutters something under her breath about being late again.

The volume of your earphones must be louder than you think, because he looks at you and asks, “Laufey?”

You let out a sigh, glance at your watch to check the time, and look up instinctively because he’s here today too.

Just in time, his gaze lifts and finds yours. The corner of his mouth quirks up, and you can’t help it — you smile back.

Not entirely sure he’s talking to you, you pull out one earbud and mumble, “Sorry?”

He gives a little smile before repeating the question — and god, that damn smile will be the end of you.

You don’t put your earphones back in. Somehow, it feels rude now. Your gaze flickers around the coach, searching for something, anything to keep the conversation going.

“Ikigai! I’ve read it. It’s nice,” you blurt out, nodding toward the book in his hand.

“Really?” he says, sounding pleasantly surprised. “I haven’t met many people who really understand it. It’s nice to find someone who appreciates it. What part did you like the most?”

Idiot. Why would you say that?

You haven’t even finished the book. You bought it on a whim, sure — but gave up halfway through because it was too dense for your brain to grasp at 10 p.m. on a work night.

“Uhh… the… the living part.”

What the hell does that even mean? Could you make a bigger fool of yourself?

“That’s… interesting,” he replies, polite but clearly unconvinced. You can feel the moment your credibility starts slipping away.

“I mean, I really like the concept behind it,” you add quickly, grasping at straws. “You know, the idea of ‘the happiness of always being busy’… things like that.”

You let out a nervous laugh, hoping it masks the rising panic. He’s still looking at you, curious. That unnerving kind of silence that feels like he’s trying to decide whether you’re genuinely insightful or completely full of it.

Just when you’re about to change the subject or fake a sudden phone call, he smiles again. A little smaller this time. Softer.

“That is a nice thought,” he says, his voice warm now. “I think that’s what I liked too.”

You blink. He’s letting you off the hook?

Relief floods through you, and you feel yourself relax just a little, your shoulders easing out of the tense shrug you didn’t even realize you were holding.

“You probably understood it better than I did, though,” you say with a sheepish grin.

“Maybe,” he says with a shrug, “but I haven’t finished it either.”

“You’re evil,” you mutter under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

You stare at him, stunned for a beat — then laugh.

Of course he hasn’t. Of course he let you sweat for a full minute before throwing you a lifeline.

He chuckles, and the sound settles somewhere low in your chest.

For the rest of the ride, you don’t put your earphones back in.

DAY 30

You finally get to know his name. Seungcheol. It suits him, you think.

You’ve started greeting each other every time you meet. You don’t talk much, just small conversations here and there about your day, the weather, or whatever comes up.

At some point, you admit you gave up on Ikigai because it was a bit too complex for your “small brain,” as you put it. He laughs at that. Really laughs but ever since, he’s taken to explaining parts of the book to you whenever you meet.

And you can’t help but think… if you’d known him during your college years, you probably would’ve passed every exam with flying colors.

You find out that he works in finance and surprisingly, his office is near yours. The revelation makes you wonder why he never gets off at the same station as you, but you don’t ask.

Some things feel too delicate to question just yet.

One morning, you notice a small Captain America keychain dangling from the zipper of his suitcase — a new addition. Curious, you ask if he likes Marvel.

He laughs, shaking his head. “My nephew stuck it on and insisted I keep it. I haven’t really watched many of the movies.”

You gasp dramatically, loud enough that a few passengers turn to look. “You’ve never watched Marvel?!”

He winces, grinning. “Maybe one or two? I don’t remember much.”

From that moment on, your train rides take on a new rhythm. You start explaining the entire Marvel storyline, movie by movie, diving into characters and chaotic timelines, your hands animated and your eyes bright with excitement.

And Seungcheol? He listens. Really listens — eyes on you, smile tugging at the corners of his lips, occasionally asking questions or teasing you gently when your passion makes you trip over your own words.

DAY 40

Lately, Seungcheol starts getting off at the same station as you.

The first time it happens, you shoot him a curious glance, unsure if it’s just a coincidence. But when it happens again, and then again, you can’t help but ask.

“Sorry if it seems like I’m intruding, but… why didn’t you get off at the earlier station?” you ask, brows slightly raised.

Today, as the train slows to your stop, you notice he doesn’t move toward the doors like he usually does.

Instead, he waits beside you.

He catches your glance and smiles casually. “I used to get off early to grab coffee. Their brews were the best I’ve ever had.”

“So… no coffee today?”

He shrugs, hands tucked in his coat pockets. “I woke up early to get it before the train. That way, I could ride with you.”

Your heart thumps a little. Not enough to show on your face, but enough that you feel it in your throat.

You look away, trying to hide your smile.

“Ah… well,” you say lightly, “must be some really good coffee.”

“Second best part of my morning,” he replies without missing a beat.

DAY 46

Walks with Seungcheol are part of your routine now.

You used to drag yourself out of bed to start the day, but lately, you wake up on your own even before your alarm rings.

You learn he has a dog. Kkuma. A pretty little Coton de Tuléar with soft white fur and a habit of stealing the spotlight. He goes on evening runs with her every Sunday, and almost without fail, he sends you a picture afterward. Kkuma, dressed in a tiny hoodie or a frilly bow.

At some point, the two of you exchange numbers. It starts with simple texts — “I reached safely” and “See you tomorrow” — but quickly grows into something more.

Now, you text nearly every day, even though you see each other just as often.

And while Kkuma is adorable, you can’t help but zoom in just a little to catch a glimpse of the man holding the leash, his messy sunday hair. The hint of a smile he doesn’t realize he’s wearing.

It’s pouring today.

You’re already halfway to the subway when the first drops begin to fall. Too light to worry about, at least at first so you keep walking, brushing damp hair from your face as the drizzle picks up.

Seungcheol boards the train two stops after yours. And the moment he enters, his eyes scan the crowd searching until he sees you. Then he makes his way over.

You talk about your weekends — easy conversation, soft laughter. It makes the ride feel quicker than usual.

When you step out of the station, you realize you forgot to check the weather. The rain’s still coming down, steady and unrelenting. You don’t have an umbrella.

Seungcheol, like some savior from a drama scene, wordlessly opens his umbrella and holds it over your head. You offer to carry it, but he refuses. So you ask to hold his suitcase instead.

But a few steps later, he stops. With his right hand, he adjusts the umbrella and then with his left, gently pulls you closer, tucking you beneath the canopy again.

You walk side by side, shoulders brushing now and then.

After the third time, you shift slightly away, not wanting to invade his space.

Your arm brushes his.

“If you get sick,” he says, eyes forward, voice casual, “who am I supposed to go to work with?”

You don’t say anything, just look up at him and smile. But you don’t move away either.

DAY 50

You and Seungcheol start growing closer.

It isn’t just morning walks anymore. Sometimes, you stop by a café after work, sit across from each other with drinks in hand and talk about everything and nothing. You walk home together too, shoulders bumping every now and then, especially when the sidewalk narrows.

If one of you is running late, the other waits—no matter how crowded the station gets.

Even the metro rides become something you look forward to. You talk about dinner plans or what shows you’re binge-watching. Some days you just share a playlist, sitting in companionable silence as the train rocks gently beneath your feet.

The evenings are always busier than the mornings. Too crowded to sit together, too loud to talk. So you both end up standing on either side of the door, listening to the same song through your AirPods, synced through Bluetooth. It becomes a little ritual.

Still, you hate the space between you.

It’s silly. Just a few feet. But Seungcheol has this quiet warmth to him—like being near him makes the train feel less suffocating, the day a little lighter. And on the days when the coach is packed and you have to stand apart, you miss that.

Then, one day, you fish into your bag and pull out your wired earphones instead.

Seungcheol notices immediately. “What happened to the other ones?”

“Oh… um, they broke,” you say, not really looking at him.

He doesn’t ask anything else. Just smiles and reaches for one side of the wire, placing the left earbud in his ear while you take the right.

You stand side by side that day, close enough that your arms touch. Close enough to hear him hum under his breath. And when the train jolts forward suddenly, he reaches out instinctively to steady you—fingers curling briefly around your wrist before letting go.

Neither of you say anything about it. You just stand there, sharing music.

And somehow, the ride home feels shorter than ever.

That night, after dinner and a long shower, you flop onto your bed and reach for your phone.

No messages.

You stare at the screen for a moment before opening your playlist—the one you listened to with Seungcheol on the train.

You scroll down and tap on one song. The one that was playing when his fingers brushed yours.

You don’t think too much about it—you just send it to him. No caption. Just the link.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes.

Seungcheol [11:47 PM] good taste also… I liked this part the best [audio snippet attached]

You play it. It’s the chorus.

Your phone buzzes again.

Seungcheol [11:48 PM] reminds me of train rides and someone hogging the right earbud 👀

You smile, cheeks warming.

You [9:49 PM] i offered to switch sides you’re the one with territorial issues

Another reply, instantly.

Seungcheol [9:49 PM] fine, next time I’ll hold the wire hostage

You laugh, phone resting against your chest.

DAY 69

You don’t expect to see Seungcheol on a Sunday.

Today is supposed to be all about the Han River. There’s a lantern festival happening, something your friends have been buzzing about for weeks. If it were up to you, you’d spend the entire Sunday curled up on your couch, binge-watching Friends for the third time this year.

But your friends are determined. They show up at your apartment in full force, barging in with iced coffee and snacks. Apparently, they don’t trust you not to cancel again.

And honestly? Fair enough.

Last year, you claimed you had “urgent office work.” The year before that, you said your grandmother was sick and needed to be taken care of.

(Sorry, Grandma. You’re doing great. I love you.)

So here you are dressed, dragged out, and mentally preparing yourself to be social for the next few hours.

Your group decides to head to the river early to avoid the crowds and grab lanterns before they sell out. After a long walk under the sun, everyone is tired and hungry, so you volunteer to run to the convenience store and grab some ramen.

What you don’t expect is to bump into Seungcheol doing the exact same thing.

And judging by the surprised look on his face, he doesn’t expect to see you either.

He lifts a hand in a small wave, his voice matching it in volume. “Hey.”

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can, Jihyo appears at your side, arms full with four cans of beer.

“Oh, hello,” she says, giving Seungcheol a polite nod before turning to you. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, we go to work to—”

But Seungcheol doesn’t get the chance to finish.

“You go to work with someone?!” Jihyo gasps dramatically. “Wow, didn’t think you had friends outside of us.”

Before you can react, a blond-haired man strolls up to Seungcheol’s side.

“Cheol, there’s no space outside.”

“Then we’ll just sit here—” Seungcheol begins, but Jihyo is faster.

“You guys can join us!”

“Oh, that would be lovely,” the blond man grins. “Sitting with pretty ladies and eating good food? Count me in.”

“Jeonghan—” Seungcheol starts, but again, Jihyo cuts him off.

“This is going to be so fun!”

Just like that, she walks off with Jeonghan, chatting like they’ve known each other for years. You can’t help but envy her a little, for how effortlessly she talks to new people.

That leaves you and Seungcheol standing alone, both a little thrown off but smiling anyway.

You exchange a glance, share a quiet smile, then follow after the two of them, side by side.

By the time you all finish eating, the sun has dipped low in the sky. The festival is about to begin—lanterns being unpacked, children running around with glowing sticks, couples picking spots near the river.

You and Seungcheol haven’t talked much since the ramen store encounter. Not because anything is wrong, but because suddenly, things feel… different.

Awkward in a new way.

Even though you’ve known him for a while now, even though you’ve shared coffee, playlists, and half your mornings—something about seeing him here, outside your usual rhythm, throws you off.

You keep catching each other’s eyes and looking away just as quickly, only to glance back a moment later. Each time your eyes meet, he gives you a small smile. You return it, cheeks warm.

The boys couldn’t buy the lanterns because all sold out early, so you decided to share yours.

The six of you split into groups to light and lift the lanterns—Jihyo and Nayeon pair up, Jeonghan and Joshua team together, and that, of course, leaves you and Seungcheol.

You sit on the grass with the lantern between you, a set of markers in hand.

“Should I draw something meaningful or just… stars?” you ask, uncapping a pen.

“Stars are meaningful,” Seungcheol says, kneeling beside you.

You smile and begin sketching— tiny stars, a moon, a little ramen bowl in the corner for fun. Seungcheol adds a small Kkuma doodle near the bottom. Your hands brush once. Neither of you moves away.

When it’s finally time to lift the lantern, you both stand, holding it gently between you. Around you, dozens of lanterns floating into the sky, glowing orange and soft against the inky blue.

“Ready?” he asks, glancing at you not at the lantern.

You nod. “One, two, three…”

You let go.

And for a second, your gaze follows the lantern.

But his stays on you.

The sky is dark and clear, making every light stand out sharply. Lanterns float up one by one, glowing softly in warm shades of orange and gold. They move slowly, carried by the breeze, flickering light. The river below mirrors them perfectly, like the sky has dipped down to meet the water. It’s calm, almost still, just the soft rustle of grass and the low hum of people watching in silence.

The sky sparkles above you, but you feel the warmth of his eyes more than the lantern lights.

Later that night, back home, your phone buzzed with a message from Jihyo.

It was a photo.

You and Seungcheol standing shoulder to shoulder, watching the lantern rise. The light from the flame illuminated your faces, casting a glow that made the photo look straight out of the Tangled movie.

Then another message follows.

Jihyo [11:59 pm] you & your lover boy 💗

You roll your eyes, already typing a response.

You [typing…] “it’s not like that—”

Before you could even hit send, another message pops up.

Jihyo [12:00 am] “and don’t even try to say no. i’ve seen the way you look at each other.”

You stare at the screen, speechless.

Because, maybe you don’t really want to deny it.

DAY 70

Jihyo’s words stay with you the whole night. You keep reaching for your phone, opening it just to stare at that photo again. You don’t see it, the so-called look Seungcheol is giving you—not the way Jihyo describes it.

Still, it’s enough to keep you tossing and turning, caught between curiosity and denial.

When you wake up, there are faint dark circles under your eyes. You even stare at yourself in the mirror, wondering if it’s actually possible to get dark circles overnight.

You start your day later than usual. Not because you oversleep. No, you’ve been awake for a while—but because you’ve been trying to avoid Seungcheol. You time your routine to reach the station half an hour late, thinking—no, hoping he’s already gone.

You aren’t ready to face him. Not after everything in your head starts sounding like Jihyo’s voice.

But of course, life has other plans.

Seungcheol is still there—standing on the platform, eyes scanning the crowd like a puppy trying to find its owner. And when he finally spots you, his face lights up instantly. He waves too eagerly, too wide and jogs over to meet you.

“Oh! Seungcheol,” you say, caught off guard.

“Hey!” he grins. “I was this close to calling you.”

“Why didn’t you go?” you ask. “Won’t you be late?”

“It’s fine,” he shrugs. “Just a few minutes.”

“Seungcheol. I was thirty minutes late. That’s not just a few minutes.”

He smiles, almost like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“I wanted to go with you.”

And just like that—your heart does that stupid thing again. The thing where it thumps in your chest a little too loudly, like it’s trying to remind you you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be.

You look away, down at your shoes, anywhere but at him.

Because Jihyo might’ve been wrong about the look. But you aren’t so sure about yours.

When it’s time to get off work, you make some excuse that you have to stay over longer because of some pending work and ask him to not wait for you.

To which he replies with a pout emoji and an ‘okay’ with it.

DAY 74

Over the next few days, you try to avoid him—subtly. At least, you think it’s subtle. But apparently, you aren’t as discreet as you’d hoped. Because on the third day, Seungcheol texts you, asking if you are avoiding him, if anything is wrong, or if he did something wrong.

You stare at the message for a long time, guilt creeping in.

You don’t mean to hurt him. Truly, you don’t. But the space helps. You need those few days to gather your thoughts, to figure out what’s going on inside your own head.

And somewhere in that quiet, you realize something.

You might actually like Seungcheol.

Not just the morning walks or the shared playlists or his little smile when your eyes meet. Him.

And now, all you can do is hope—really hope that Jihyo has been right all along about the way he looks at you.

So you decide not to avoid him anymore. And also maybe try to come clean about your feelings.

DAY 75

You wear your pink skirt and a white off-shoulder top today—the one Jihyo swears makes you look like an angel. You wake up extra early, wanting to take your time getting ready. Something different from your usual pencil skirt and tucked-in blouse. A little blush, soft liner, your favorite lip tint. Nothing too dramatic, but just enough to make you feel… pretty.

Because today, you decide. You are going to confess to Seungcheol.

You are nervous, no doubt about that. But mixed in with the nerves is something else—something bright and fluttery. A little thrill at the thought that this could be the day everything changes.

It feels like either the last day you’ll see Seungcheol as just a friend… or the last time you’ll ever see him.

When you reach the station, he’s already there. He hasn’t noticed you yet, which gives you a quiet moment to take him in.

He looks good. Too good for a regular weekday.

A crisp black shirt tucked into slate grey pants, sleeves rolled up just enough to show his forearms. His hair is slightly messy, like he’s been running his fingers through it while waiting. He has one hand in his pocket and the other holding a coffee, eyes scanning the platform casually.

You walk over and gently tap his shoulder.

He turns, smiling. “Hi—”

Then his eyes widen slightly, his smile freezing for a second before softening into something warmer.

“Woah… you look amazing. Is there any occasion today?” he asks. “Wait, is it your birthday?”

You shake your head, shy. “No. I just… felt like wearing this.”

He tilts his head slightly, still smiling. “Well, you look really pretty.”

You mutter a quiet thank you, cheeks already heating up. Before you can say anything more, the train arrives, pulling into the platform with a gust of wind and that familiar screech of brakes. You both step in together, falling into your usual routine—music, small talk, the shared comfort of standing close.

Later, as you walk out of the station toward your offices, Seungcheol glances over.

“Hey… would you mind coming with me somewhere after work?” he asks.

“Where?” you ask, surprised.

“I need to buy a gift. For someone.”

You blink. Is he buying something for you? But that doesn’t make sense. Why would he take you along to pick your own gift?

Still, you nod. “Sure.”

—

You manage to finish your work quickly and leave the office earlier than usual. Outside, leaning casually against the building wall, is Seungcheol—head tilted down, focused on his phone.

He looks effortlessly handsome. Same shirt from the morning, sleeves pushed up a little higher now, hair ruffled even more from the long day. He glances up as you walk over.

“Hey,” you greet, and he slides his phone into his pocket.

“Hey,” he replies, smiling like he’s been waiting for you.

You fall into step beside him, the two of you making your way to wherever this little errand of his will lead.

The shop is located on the corner of an alleyway. No wonder you’ve never seen it before. Inside, it’s small but cozy, filled with shelves lined with candles, handmade accessories, tiny notebooks, and other gift-y things that feel both thoughtful and random. Seungcheol walks ahead, scanning the displays carefully. You trail behind, heart beating just a little too fast.

He eventually makes his way to the counter and leans in slightly, speaking to the worker.

“Do you know what would be a good gift for a lady?” he asks, voice polite.

The worker looks up. “What age range are we talking about?”

“Around 25?” he replies casually.

You don’t wait to hear the rest.

You quickly turn away and wander to the far end of the shop, pretending to browse a shelf of overpriced bookmarks.

Your stomach drops.

Of course he’s taken. Why wouldn’t he be?

You feel like an idiot. A man this kind, this funny, this good-looking—how could he possibly be single? You scold yourself internally for even letting the idea of confessing take root.

You don’t know what you feel more—embarrassed that you almost made a move, or heartbroken that he’s already someone else’s.

Maybe you should be grateful. At least you haven’t actually said anything. You can still keep the friendship. Things can stay the same.

Right?

Even if all you want right now is to go home, bury yourself in a blanket, and scream into your pillow.

DAY 87

You start avoiding Seungcheol again. This time, it isn’t subtle.

You don’t reply to his texts. When he messages asking, “Are you avoiding me again?”, all you can bring yourself to respond is a simple, “I’m sick.”

Technically not a lie. Just… not the whole truth.

You begin leaving for work fifteen minutes earlier than usual, hoping to slip away before he even reaches the station. On top of that, you start taking the women’s coach—just in case he happens to come early too.

It is ridiculous, you know that. But the thought of seeing him, knowing what you know—or rather, what you think you know is too much. You don’t trust yourself to act normal, and you don’t want him to see through you.

So you do the only thing you can think of. You disappear from his mornings. Even if it breaks your heart to do it.

—

But what you don’t expect is to walk through the door and see him there.

You decide you hate Jihyo.

She texts you earlier saying she and Nayeon are going out for drinks with some people, and asks if you want to come. You have been a mess for days—mopey, overthinking—so you figure, why not? A night out might help. Distraction can’t hurt.

You freeze just a few steps inside the bar, hand flying out to grab Jihyo by the wrist.

“What are they doing here?” you hiss, nodding toward the trio of familiar men at the bar counter—Seungcheol, Jeonghan, and Joshua, laughing over drinks like they have no idea they are ruining your life.

“Oh, I invited them,” Jihyo says with a shrug, like she just asked them over for coffee.

Your jaw drops. “How? How did you even get their numbers?”

“I exchanged numbers with Jeonghan the other day,” she says simply, brushing past your panic like it is nothing. And before you can protest, she is already walking over to greet them smiling, waving, completely unbothered.

You don’t have the energy to chase after her.

The rest of the night is a blur of noise and lights and everything-you-wanted-to-avoid crashing into you all at once. Seungcheol tries to talk to you more than once, always gentle, always a little concerned, but you keep brushing him off, pretending you don’t hear, pretending someone has called your name.

You laugh louder than necessary, drink more than you should’ve, and cling to Nayeon’s arm like it is a lifeline.

By the time it’s time to leave, you can barely stand without holding onto something or someone.

And when the drinks start to hit, you get drunk. Properly drunk.

Because maybe if your head is fuzzy enough, you’d stop remembering the way he looks at you in that photo or the way he looks at you right now.

Your head feels heavy, and your voice comes out slower than usual. Jihyo and Nayeon aren’t much better off. They giggle as they sling their arms around each other, tipsy and carefree. The problem is—they live in the same direction. You don’t.

Even in your dazed state, you can vaguely make out Seungcheol speaking to Jihyo.

“I’ll drop her home,” he says, voice calm and firm.

“YOU’RE THE BEST—thank you!” Jihyo shouts, completely unhelpful, before stumbling away with Nayeon, leaving you behind.

You stare at Seungcheol, swaying slightly, hugging your bag tightly to your chest like it is some kind of shield. He walks ahead, opens the passenger door to his car, and turns back to you with a tired sigh.

“Can you please get in?”

You blink at him. He raises an eyebrow. You don’t move.

“I’m not kidnapping you,” he adds dryly. “Just trying to make sure you get home in one piece.”

You hesitate for another beat before finally moving, sliding into the passenger seat with a clumsy thump. He closes the door behind you and circles around to the driver’s side.

“Can you put your address in the GPS?” he asks once he is settled.

You fumble with your phone, hands still trembling a bit. Eventually, you manage to type it in and pass it to him.

The car pulls out onto the main road, and for a while, there is only the hum of the engine and the soft sound of the air conditioning.

Then he rolls the window down a little.

The cool night air hits your face, it helps for a moment. You close your eyes, breathing in deep. The nausea settles just a bit, and your thoughts start to line up again, one by one.

Still a mess, still confused. But slowly sobering up.

You ask him to drop you off a little farther from your house—somewhere down the road, away from your actual address.

But, of course, Seungcheol doesn’t listen.

He stops the car right at the bottom of the slope that leads up to your place, shifts into park, and turns to you.

“Stay here,” he says gently, before getting out of the car.

You blink, confused, until you see him circle around and open your door for you. He holds out his hand.

You hesitate, but your legs aren’t steady enough to argue. You let him help you out, his hand warm around yours. He doesn’t let go even as you both start walking up the quiet slope together.

The silence between you stretches for a few minutes, just the sound of your shoes on the pavement and distant insects chirping in the dark. You aren’t sure if it is the alcohol still in your system or the storm in your chest, but eventually, you break the silence.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” you ask.

He glances at you, eyebrows pulling together slightly. “What do you mean?”

You exhale slowly, avoiding his eyes. “You know it’s not exactly gentlemanly to lead on a lady when you’re already in a relationship.”

He stops walking.

“…What relationship?” he asks, voice cautious.

You keep your eyes forward. “The bag you bought the other day—it was for her, right? Your girlfriend.”

He says your name softly. Then again, firmer. “Look at me.”

You do. Slowly.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he says. “In fact… there’s someone I like.”

Your heart sinks anyway. Just hearing those words “someone I like” even if it isn’t someone he is with, it still isn’t you.

You look away. “Then go tell her. Why waste all this time on someone who you won’t like back?”

Your voice drops to a mumble at the end, but he still hears it.

He squeezes your hand, just enough to make you look at him again.

“You’re the one I like”, he says.

You don’t know if it is the alcohol or the months of slow-burn tension finally snapping but you lean in.

“No,” he holds you back by your shoulders. “Not like this. Not when you’re drunk. Not when you might not remember.”

Your lips part in protest, but nothing comes out. Your face crumples instead, and without another word, you turn around and start walking ahead.

“Just go,” you mutter. “I’m fine. You don’t have to follow me.”

He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t call out to stop you. But he doesn’t leave either.

He stays parked at the bottom of the slope. Watches you unlock your door. Waits until you step inside. Stays there until the lights in your house turn off.

You don’t know what exactly you’ve done.

But one thing you are sure of. The ghost of tonight is going to haunt you tomorrow.

DAY 90

You were right.

You don’t remember everything that happened last night. Bits and pieces come to you in flashes—your head pounds every time you try to force the memory. You vaguely recall leaving the bar, Seungcheol’s car, walking up the slope...

The more you try to piece it together, the worse your headache gets.

You pop some ibuprofen, hoping it will dull both the physical ache and the mental chaos. It doesn’t do much, but it helps just enough to drag yourself out of bed and into work clothes.

When you finally make it to the station, still feeling like your brain has been put through a blender, you spot him.

Standing exactly where he always does—except now, just the sight of him sends your stomach into a spiral.

You freeze in place.

Few memories flash by. You remember asking about the gift. You remember accusing him of leading you on.

Oh no.

Oh god.

Did you try to kiss him?

Before you can figure out how to vanish into thin air, Seungcheol is already walking toward you. Calm. Collected. Way too composed for someone who might’ve been kissed by a drunk mess.

He reaches into his pocket and holds out a hangover medicine to you.

You blink. Then take it with a quiet, “Thanks.”

“About yesterday…” he starts.

Panic flares.

“Nope,” you blurt. “I mean—OH LOOK! The train’s here, let’s go!”

You practically speed-walk past him and into the nearest compartment like your shoes are on fire.

The entire train ride, you keep a very safe three-foot distance between you and Seungcheol, standing awkwardly near the door like you don’t even know him. You avoid eye contact like it is your job. If someone had drawn a chalk line around you, it would’ve been labeled “emotional damage containment zone.”

You have no idea what to say or what he wants to say. But whatever it is… you aren’t ready.

DAY 94

You had, against all odds, successfully dodged the talk with Seungcheol. And honestly? You were kind of proud of yourself.

Sure, it wasn’t the most mature move, but avoiding awkward emotional conversations? You were practically a professional at this point.

Not that he made it easy.

He still waited at the station for you, even though you started leaving earlier than usual in the hopes of missing him. On the train, you avoided any and all eye contact like your life depended on it. And despite that, when evening rolled around, you’d still find him waiting outside your office building, casually leaned against the wall like he hadn’t been ghosted for a week straight.

You’d just mumble something about needing to finish up emails and hide behind your monitor.

Even your coworkers had caught on.

“Your handsome man is downstairs again,” one of them would say with a teasing grin.

“You shouldn’t keep a man that fine waiting. It’s rude,” another would chime in.

But today… Seungcheol clearly decided enough was enough.

As you walk out together after work, the sun just starts to dip low in the sky. He glances sideways at you and asks casually, “Do you like cafes or parks better?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“The vibe, I mean. Like if you had to pick. Cafes or parks?”

You furrow your brows, confused but grateful he isn’t bringing up that night.

What you didn’t realize, of course, is that he wasn’t just making small talk—he is trying to figure out where you’d feel more comfortable. Where you’d feel safe enough to finally talk.

Which, honestly? Is kind of really sweet.

The park is quiet this time of day—just a few people jogging, some kids chasing each other near the fountain, the sky turning that soft, cotton-candy shade of evening.

You aren’t sure how you got here, really. One second you’re walking with Seungcheol, and the next he is leading you toward a bench under a big tree, acting like this is just another casual detour.

Except… you know it isn’t.

You sit beside him, not too close, not too far. Your hands rest in your lap, picking at your sleeves. You can feel your heart beating in your throat.

Seungcheol doesn’t speak for a while. He just sits there, hands resting loosely on his knees.

“I thought you were mad at me,” he finally says.

You keep your gaze ahead. “I wasn’t.”

“You avoided me like I had the plague.”

You let out a breath—part laugh, part guilt. “I panicked.”

“Why?”

You hesitate. “Because I remembered bits and pieces from that night. I thought maybe I said or did something I shouldn’t have.”

There is a small pause.

“You didn’t,” he says. “Nothing weird happened. Except maybe how fast you ran off afterward.”

You smile despite yourself. “I was embarrassed.”

“Why?”

You glance at him, then look back at your hands. “Because I started overthinking things. You were just being nice, and I made it weird.”

He is quiet again for a moment. “I wasn’t just being nice.”

That makes your heart skip a little, but he doesn’t press it.

Instead, he nudges your foot lightly with his. “Anyway, I just didn’t want it to be awkward.”

You nod. “Yeah… me neither.”

“Cool,” he says, leaning back slightly. “So… we good?”

You look at him, and something about the way he is watching you makes you feel lighter.

“Yeah,” you say. “We’re good.”

The conversation shifts to safer topics after that. You stay on that bench for a while longer, talking about random things—the weird subway ad you both hate, the café with terrible coffee he swears he only likes for the muffins.

And just before you leave, he glances at you and says, casual as ever, “Hey… let’s hang out next week. Like, properly.”

You blink. “Like… outside the train?”

It isn’t like you haven’t seen him outside other times, but this time it might be just you two. You and him.

DAY 99

The days passed quicker than you imagined.

You and Seungcheol still took the train to work together every day, but somewhere along the way, those commutes turned into something more. You started stopping by cafés on the way. Tried out that dinner place that had been all over your feed. Even ended up at an arcade once—half-tipsy from drinks at a pojangmacha tucked into the corner of some quiet street, laughing so hard you nearly cried when he lost to you in a dance battle.

Today, you stood on either side of a fogged-up train door.

Absentmindedly, you doodled a tiny smiley face on the glass with your finger. When you looked up, you caught Seungcheol doing the same—drawing a tiny heart just beside your smiley.

You didn’t say anything. Just smiled to yourself the rest of the way home.

Later that night, as you were drying your hair after a shower, your phone buzzed.

Seungcheol [9:13 PM] hey!! can we meet tomorrow?

You blink. Sit down on your bed and quickly type back:

You [9:13 PM] (indented) sure!! where tho??

It takes him a minute to reply.

Seungcheol [9:14 PM] (indented) there’s this garden café near dongmyo… it’s quiet and pretty at night. 7pm?

You bite your lip, smiling at your screen like an idiot.

You [9:17 PM] sure 😊😙 see you then!

DAY 100

You are nervous as hell. You are sitting on one of the corner seats at the café, fiddling with your hair, smoothing down your skirt, rubbing your hands against your thighs like it will somehow calm your heartbeat.

Now you sit in that café, trying not to look at your phone every five seconds. He isn’t late. You are just early. Painfully, ridiculously early.

You dress up more than usual today—okay, a lot more.

A sheer, light mocha-brown ruched blouse with soft, billowy chiffon sleeves and a deep V neckline. A high-waisted, dark chocolate brown maxi skirt with a gentle drape and ruched detailing at the hip. You even do a winged eyeliner—after three failed attempts. You check the mirror at least ten times before finally forcing yourself out of the house.

Five minutes pass.

Then the bell over the café door chimes, and you instinctively look up.

There he is.

Seungcheol walks in, dressed in a warm chocolate-brown crew neck sweater and cream-colored corduroy pants. His hair bounces slightly as he moves, and somehow, he looks even better than you remember—soft and put-together and annoyingly, heart-flutteringly handsome.

You stand up as he reaches the table, and he gives you a breathless smile, holding out a small bouquet—white lisianthus and garden roses, sprinkled with baby’s breath.

“You’re early,” he says, just a little out of breath, eyes scanning your face and outfit in a way that makes your skin buzz.

You nod, shy, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “So are you.”

He chuckles softly. “Guess we’re both a little eager, huh?”

And just like that, the nervous weight in your chest lightens, bit by bit.

Dinner is perfect.

Seungcheol insists you try everything. Every time you so much as glance at something on the menu, he tells the waiter, “We’ll have that too.” Your table is overflowing with plates by the time the mains arrive, and you lose count of how many times he leans forward to ask if you are full, if you like it, if the dessert is too sweet.

He keeps spacing out mid-sentence, staring at you with this dazed, boyish look before shaking his head and mumbling, “Sorry, what were we talking about again?”

You tease him for being distracted. He claims it is the lighting that makes him space out. You know it isn’t.

And even though he laughs and looks like he has everything together, you notice the way he fidgets with the hem of his sleeve when he thinks you aren’t looking. How he checks his phone screen just to lock it again.

After dinner, the two of you step out onto the quiet street.

The rush has died down. The air has cooled just enough to make you pull your cardigan tighter. Street lamps cast soft glows on the pavement, and the sounds of the city fade to a distant hum—just footsteps, laughter from across the block, and the occasional car passing by.

You walk side by side. Close, but not touching.

Until he stops walking.

You turn to him. “Cheol?”

He looks nervous. Palms in his pockets, shoulders drawn in slightly, eyes fixed on the road like he is rehearsing something in his head.

Then he looks at you.

“I know this is random,” he starts. “Well—not random, but kind of sudden? Or maybe not. I mean, it’s been a hundred days. That’s a lot. But also not enough, I guess, to say something like this—but it also feels like it is.”

You blink. He isn’t making much sense.

Seungcheol takes a breath and scratches the back of his neck.

“What I’m trying to say is…” He looks at you, really looks at you. “I like you. Like—really like you. More than a ‘train friend’ or a ‘text you memes at 11PM’ kind of way. I think I’ve liked you for a while now, and I kept waiting for the right time, and then today just feels like it. Because it’s special, right? A hundred days. And I—”

“Seungcheol.”

He keeps going. “—I mean, I didn’t want to make it weird, and maybe this is weird, and I’m talking too much—”

You step forward and wrap your arms around him.

He freezes. Then melts. His hands hover for a second before resting gently on your back, holding you like he doesn’t quite believe you are real.

You pull back just enough to meet his eyes. “I like you too.”

It is quiet for a moment. His eyes search yours like he is waiting for you to take it back, like he has to double-check that he heard you right.

You smile. “I was kind of hoping you’d say something.”

A quiet relieved laugh slips from him.

Then, softer, “Can I kiss you?”

You nod.

Seungcheol steps in close, one hand resting lightly on your waist, the other hovering just beside your cheek like he is scared to touch you too fast. His gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips and back again, as if he is memorizing you right here, under the soft yellow glow of the streetlamp.

His fingers finally brush your jaw, a soft touch, careful—like you are something delicate. Your heart thuds in your chest, loud enough you’re sure he can hear it.

Then, slowly, finally, he kisses you.

His lips are warm, soft, hesitant at first—testing the waters, afraid to mess it up. You tilt your head and lean in, and that’s all the reassurance he needs. His hand slides to the small of your back, pulling you a little closer, and he kisses you again—this time deeper, more certain.

There is just the feel of his lips on yours, the quiet rhythm of his breath, the faint scent of his cologne—something warm and woodsy that makes your knees go weak.

When he pulls back, just enough to rest his forehead against yours, neither of you say a word. Not yet.

The night is quiet around you, just the hum of distant traffic, the glow of streetlamps, and the soft sound of your breaths mingling in the small space between you.

He finally speaks, voice low, like he doesn’t want to break whatever this is.

“Do you know what today is?”

You smile. “A hundred days.”

He nods. “A hundred days of you. Of seeing you on the train. Of wanting to say more, stay longer.”

You blink up at him, heart full.

“I want more,” he says, thumb brushing your cheek. “Not just another hundred. I want all of them. Every day.”

You lean in, kiss him one more time.

And as you stand there, in the middle of a quiet street with the man who used to be just a stranger on the train. You think the next morning, the train will still come.

And this time, you’ll be boarding it—hand in hand.

BONUS - SEUNGCHEOL’S POV (DAY 1)

The train pulls in, slowing with that familiar screech of metal. Seungcheol leans against the glass panel, one hand in his pocket, headphones in, watching people come and go.

Then she steps on.

He doesn’t recognize her — she’s new, at least to him. She looks around for a moment; the seats, the windows, the slow-moving scenery outside. There’s no rush in her expression, just quiet observation.

She finds a spot across from him, steadying herself on the rail as the train lurches forward. For a while, she just watches the buildings go by, eyes calm, thoughtful.

Then she pulls out her phone, scrolling through something, expression soft and unreadable.

He looks away, pretending to focus on the song playing through his headphones. But it’s hard not to notice her — how she stands a bit straighter than everyone else, how she seems almost peaceful even with the crowd pressing around her.

She doesn’t look at him. Not once. Or so he thinks.

Still, he catches himself checking.

And then the train keeps moving, same as always.

He hopes to see her tomorrow too.

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mssalo · 8 months ago

Text

dirty old man - sleeping

In the quiet of the night, Joel can’t resist the temptation to have you just as you are - sleeping, warm, and all his to use. By morning, you’re eager to give back, slipping under the sheets to wake him up with your sweet mouth, proving that sometimes, the best dreams are the ones you wake up to.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, somnophilia, age gap, caretaker f!reader, Joel is a perverted old man (imagined age 60-70), reader in her 20s, DDLG dynamic, daddy kink, consensual somnophilia, intense possessiveness, penetrative sex, p in v sex, cuming inside, oral (male receiving), dirty talk, power dynamics, and themes of control, degradation, size difference, explicit sexual content, Joel having to pop some pills to keep up with reader bc hes an oldie

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· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

It was the dead of night, and a profound stillness blanketed the world outside, making it feel as though you and Joel were the only two souls in existence.

He lay beside you, his warm body pressed against yours, a comforting presence that filled the space between you. His hand rested on your thigh under the covers, the gentle weight of it stirring a heat within you even in your deep slumber.

Hours had slipped by since you had drifted off, lost in dreams, while Joel remained wide awake, his thoughts consumed by a singular focus: you. Every gentle rise and fall of your chest, the way your lips parted slightly as you breathed, captivated him.

You had unknowingly spent the day teasing him, your playful glances and lingering touches igniting a simmering desire that he found impossible to ignore.

As he lay there, his dark eyes roamed over your peaceful face, memorizing every detail—the soft curve of your cheek, the way your hair fell across your forehead. So damn pretty.

It was a temptation that felt like a potent spell, pulling him closer to the edge of something he craved deeply. The urge to wake you, to make you aware of his need, pulsed through him, igniting a fire that flickered in the pit of his stomach.

With deliberate slowness, his fingers began to explore your thigh, inching higher, savoring the softness of your skin beneath his touch.

The intimacy of the moment was electric, every subtle movement charged with anticipation. He knew you were his, entirely and completely, and the thrill of that realization made his heart race. The way you teased him without even knowing it had awakened a hunger in him, one that demanded to be satisfied.

Tonight, there would be no holding back.

His hand slowly slid higher up your thigh, grazing the hem of your shirt, slipping beneath it.

You weren’t wearing anything underneath, just like he like - easy access, always ready for him.

He let out a quiet groan, feeling the slickness between your legs, even in your sleep. His cock twitched at the thought, already hardening against your backside as he pressed himself closer.

“Fuck, baby,” he muttered low in your ear, his voice thick with need. “Even in your sleep, you’re ready for daddy, huh?”

You stirred slightly, a soft sound escaping your lips, but you didn’t wake up.

Joel grinned to himself, his fingers slipping between your folds, spreading your wetness as he teased you gently.

He loved this—having you completely at his mercy, knowing you were his to take whenever he wanted.

“You know what daddy wants, hm, sweet girl?” he whispered, his voice dripping with lust. “Gonna fuck you nice and slow, baby. Show you how much I need this sweet little pussy.”

You mumbled something incoherent, half-asleep, but your body responded instinctively, shifting toward his touch.

Joel took that as all the permission he needed. He reached down, positioning his hard cock at your entrance, pressing the tip against your slick folds.

“That’s it,” he muttered, pushing inside you inch by inch, groaning at the feeling of your tight, warm walls enveloping him. “So fuckin’ tight, - even in your sleep.”

Your body tensed for a moment, adjusting to the sudden fullness, but soon you relaxed, letting out a soft whimper as Joel started to move. He kept his pace slow, dragging his cock in and out of you, savoring the way your body clenched around him.

You were still half-asleep, your breathing deep and even, but the pleasure was unmistakable.

“Fuck, you feel so good, baby,” Joel growled, his hips pressing against yours as he buried himself deeper inside you. “Always so fuckin’ good for daddy, even when you don’t know it.”

He thrust into you slowly, his hand gripping your hip to hold you in place.

You whimpered again, your body stirring as the pleasure built inside you, even in your sleepy state. Joel smirked, loving how easily he could turn you on, how quickly you responded to him.

“You love this, hm?” he teased, his voice low and filthy. “Love bein’ daddy’s little fucktoy, lettin’ me fuck you whenever I want. "- always so ready for it, sweet one.”

His dirty words sent a shiver through you, even in your haze of sleep. You moaned softly, your hips moving against him, and Joel chuckled darkly, knowing he had you exactly where he wanted you.

“that's my little girl,” he murmured, his voice softening just a bit as he slowed his thrusts. “Daddy’s gonna make you cum, just like always. - gonna fill you up so good, baby. 'You need that, don’t ya? Old man cum inside your sweet cunt?”

You moaned softly, barely able to form words, but Joel didn’t need a response. He kept thrusting into you, his pace picking up just enough to push you closer to the edge. Your body trembled, the pleasure building inside you, and before you knew it, you were coming undone around him.

“Fuck, baby,” Joel groaned as your walls clenched around his cock, milking him for all he was worth. “That’s it, come for daddy. Let me feel how much you love this.”

He fucked you through your orgasm, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he chased his own release. You were barely conscious, your body limp against him, but Joel didn’t care. He loved having you like this—completely at his mercy, his to use however he wanted.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he growled, his hips slamming into yours as he finally reached his climax.

He buried himself deep inside you, groaning as he filled you with his release, his cock twitching as he emptied himself into you.

For a moment, the room was silent, the only sound the heavy breathing of Joel as he held you close. He stayed inside you, his cock softening as he pressed kisses to your neck. And lastly to your soft lips.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” he whispered, his voice softening as he stroked your hair. “So fuckin’ perfect.”

And as you drifted back into a deeper sleep, you couldn’t help but smile.

· · ────

The morning sun was barely creeping through the curtains when you woke, the soft rays painting the room in a gentle light.

Joel was still fast asleep beside you, his chest rising and falling steadily, a peaceful expression on his face. But as you lay there, the memories of last night flooded your mind—his hands gripping your hips, his filthy words in your ear, the way he used your body like he owned it.

The thought of it sent a familiar heat coursing through your veins. You couldn’t help yourself. You needed him again.

Carefully, you slid under the covers, moving quietly so as not to wake him just yet.

Your lips brushed against the soft skin of his stomach, trailing lower until you reached his cock. He was soft, but the weight of him in your hand made your heart race.

You wrapped your lips around the tip, sucking gently, savoring the taste of him.

Joel stirred slightly, but he didn’t wake. Not yet.

You smiled to yourself, your mouth sliding further down his length as you began to suck him off, slow and deliberate. The heat between your legs was already growing, the memory of how he fucked you last night playing over and over in your mind.

You couldn’t get enough of him—could never get enough.

As you worked him deeper into your mouth, you felt him begin to harden, his cock swelling between your lips.

His breathing changed, a soft groan escaping his throat as he slowly woke up to the sensation.

“Mmm… what’re you doin’ down there, sweet girl?” Joel’s voice was rough with sleep, but there was a smile in it too. His hand found your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he finally opened his eyes, looking down at you with that familiar hunger.

You leaned forward, the soft graze of your lips against his skin lingering as you looked up at him with a playful gleam in your eye.

“Thought I’d remind you of last night, daddy” you murmured, your voice dripping with mischief, heat in every syllable. “Couldn’t stop thinking about how good you fucked me.”

A rough groan tore from Joel’s chest, his fingers tightening in your hair, his hips pushing up slightly, his cock heavy and throbbing under your touch.

“Knew I’d spoil you too good,” he muttered, the edges of his voice low and gravelly, thick with lust. “Spoiled from Daddy’s cock, huh? Look at you. Young thing, just desperate for it…”

You only hummed in response, eyes darkening as you took him back into your mouth, feeling the weight and warmth of him press against your tongue.

You let him feel every inch of your attention, the way you circled your tongue around the head, teasing the sensitive skin there before sinking lower, deeper, lips sliding slowly down his shaft.

His rough breaths filled the air as you worked him over, and the steady beat of his pulse against your tongue was just as intoxicating as the groans slipping from his lips.

“That’s it,” he rasped, his voice thick with satisfaction, his hand guiding you further down his length, pushing you to take him deeper.

“Suck me like that, sweetheart. Just like that.” The words only spurred you on, adding a new spark to the hunger simmering inside you.

You worked him harder, hollowing your cheeks as you moved, watching his eyes go dark with lust as you took him in, inch by inch.

His fingers tightened their grip in your hair, his hips thrusting up to meet the movements of your mouth, filling you over and over, his cock sliding deeper each time.

You could feel his gaze on you, heavy with admiration as he watched your lips wrap around him, taking him so eagerly. The rough timbre of his voice made the heat between your thighs ache, every word only feeding your need.

“Just can’t get enough, huh?” he murmured, his eyes darkening as he continued to watch you. “Look at you, sweet girl, so damn hungry for it. Daddy’s cock got you addicted already?”

Your cheeks flushed as you looked up at him, your lips tightening around his shaft as you answered with another hum, letting him feel every inch of you.

His breathing grew more ragged, his cock twitching against your tongue as you took him deeper, savoring the way his hips bucked, the way he couldn’t hold back.

“Fuck, little one,” he muttered, his words edged with tension as he kept moving, guiding you, thrusting steadily into your mouth, each stroke deeper than the last.

“Just—look at you, a pretty young thing like you, all wrapped around me like this.” His hand flexed in your hair, the heat in his eyes pushing you further as he muttered, “Goddamn perfect, sweetheart, fuck…”

You moaned around him, the sound vibrating against him as you took him down again, feeling the rush of satisfaction every time he cursed, every time he let out a rough groan.

His hips thrust up with a final, shuddering need, and you could feel him reaching the edge, his body tensing, his grip in your hair tightening as he moved harder, needier, voice low and thick.

“Gonna make me cum, baby. You want that? You want Daddy to fill your pretty mouth?” His voice broke, heavy with lust, his words hitting you like sparks as he thrust one more time, hips jerking as his release spilled down your throat.

You took him in, swallowing every drop, not letting an ounce go to waste, savoring the taste as he finally began to relax, his breathing slowing, his hand slipping from your hair as he looked down at you, his expression somewhere between satisfied and awed.

“Jesus,” he murmured, his thumb tracing over your swollen lips, eyes warm, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth. “You’re somethin’ else, baby.”

You wiped your lips with the back of your hand, smiling up at him. “Just wanted to make sure you woke up with a smile.”

Joel chuckled, pulling you up into his arms, his lips pressing against your forehead. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”

You grinned, your body already pressing against his, craving more. “Not before you fuck me again.”

“Damn, sweet girl,” Joel groaned, his hand sliding through your hair, tugging gently as he gazed down at you with a smirk of pure satisfaction. “With that mouth of yours… I’m gonna need those pills if I’m gonna keep up with you. Go get ’em for me, sweetheart. I wanna take my sweet time with you.”

He released a long breath, his chest still rising and falling from the aftermath of his release.

His thumb brushed your cheek, his eyes softening slightly as he spoke again. “Ain’t never felt this before. Not ‘til you came into my life. You make me feel like I’m twenty again, darlin’. Like I can’t get enough of you.”

His fingers slid down the side of your face, his touch tender now, petting your hair like he couldn’t stop admiring you. “God, you’re somethin’ else. My good girl, takin’ care of me like that.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile, feeling the familiar heat building between you again at his filthy praise.

You leaned into his hand, knowing full well that the moment you got back with those pills, Joel wasn’t going to hold back.

He was going to take his time

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

uhh......yes <3

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neptilius · 5 months ago

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MR.STEALYOURGIRL

synopsis; satoru gojo takes his role as your work husband seriously

cw ; unprotected , p in v, pussy eating, cheating, probably spelling errors, minors dni!!!

“no phones we aint even gotta talk”

being satoru's work-wife while you have a whole husband at home was a blessing and a curse. you knew what you were getting yourself into and the consequences that would follow but what doesn't help, is when he forgets his place. all the times he almost got you caught up without a care in the world if your husband found out how he fucks you like an animal in heat during your lunch breaks, business dinners, when you stay after hours to make 'deadlines’. he wants you all to himself and you don't miss the dark look in his eyes every time you tell him to back off when its time for you to go home to your husband.

he doesn’t deserve you, he doesn’t know how to please you the way satoru does, hell he doesnt even eat pussy…he doesn’t take the time to buy you flowers or even pretend he’s interested in the things you like anymore. you were emotionally checked out and couldn’t find the so called love you had for your husband anymore and it didn’t take much for you to call satoru over the second your husband left for his work trip overseas.

“fuck your so pretty,” he groaned in your ear softly nibbling on your helix as he rubbed his thumb over your right nipple through your thin nightgown and grinding his clothed erection on your sopping cunt.

“toru’ need you so bad.” you mewled at the way he rolled his hips into you. eagerly grazing your manicured nails over his abs.

“gotta prep you first sweetheart.” he moved to the edge of the bed and pulled you down by your ankles to meet him. strong arms pushing your thighs apart as he littered kisses on your hard clit earning soft moans from you.

he glanced up at you, cerulean eyes glazed over with lust. “look at you already falling apart for me, sweetheart. it’s like your body knows who it belongs to.” pressing a french kiss to your mound, making your breath hitch.

“toru…” you whimpered , hips involuntarily bucking against his face.

“patience, baby. gotta take my time with you. can’t have you thinking he ever had a chance.”

the mention of your husband sending a wave of anxiety through your stomach; but it dissipated the moment satoru’s tongue slipped into your entrance, curling and flicking in ways that had your toes curling.

your head fell back against the comforter under you, fingers threaded in his white locks as he devoured you like a starved man. he didnt let up, sucking and licking until your thighs trembled around his head, the obscene wet sounds filling the room.

“fuck, toru- gonna-“ you start but was cut off by the waves of pleasure that surged through your body, leaving you breathless and arching off the bed.

he pulled back just enough to watch you , his chin glistening with your juices as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “thats my girl. so fucking perfect for me.”

without missing a beat, he stood up, unbuckling his belt. his cock strained against his boxers, the outline making your mouth water.

“lemme remind you why you don’t need anyone but me.” he murmured, leaning down to press a sear kiss to your lips, letting you taste yourself on him.

pulling his boxers down to free himself , your breath hitched at the sight of him—thick, long, and already leaking for you. he gripped the base, teasing the tip along your still-sensitive folds, spreading your slick over his length with a low groan.

“look at you, sweetheart. always so ready for me,” he muttered, his voice rough and dripping with desire. he leaned down, capturing your lips in another deep kiss as he slowly pushed into you, stretching you inch by inch until he bottomed out.

a choked moan escaped your throat, your fingers digging into his biceps as he held still for a moment, savoring the way your walls clenched around him. “fuck, you feel so good… better than i remembered,” he hissed, pulling back slightly before thrusting back in, making you cry out.

just as the rhythm of his hips picked up, your phone buzzed on the nightstand. the sound made your eyes snap open, heart pounding as you reached for it, but satoru caught your wrist, pinning it above your head.

“leave it,” he growled, his lips brushing against your ear as he thrust into you harder, making the bed creak beneath you.

“i-i can’t,” you stammered, your voice breathy and trembling. “it’s… my husband.”

his movements stilled for a moment, a dark grin spreading across his face as he glanced at the glowing screen. “perfect timing. answer it.”

“what?” you whispered, panic and arousal swirling in your chest.

“you heard me,” he said, leaning down to nip at your collarbone. “answer it. let’s see how good you are at pretending.”

the phone buzzed again, the vibrations seeming louder in the tense silence. with a shaky hand, you grabbed it, swiping to answer and bringing it to your ear. “h-hello?” you managed, your voice uneven.

“hey, beautiful ,” your husband’s voice came through the line, warm and unsuspecting. “just wanted to check in on you. how’s everything at home?”

satoru smirked, shifting his hips to thrust into you slowly, dragging along your walls in a way that made it nearly impossible to hold back a moan. your free hand flew to his shoulder, nails digging in as you bit your lip hard enough to draw blood.

“it’s… fine,” you lied, your voice strained as you tried to keep it steady. “everything’s fine. h-how’s your trip?”

“it’s good,” your husband replied, oblivious to the way satoru was rocking into you now, his thrusts deep and deliberate. “just busy, you know how it is. i miss you, though.”

your breath hitched as satoru leaned down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “tell him you miss him too,” he whispered, his voice laced with dark amusement.

“i… i miss you too,” you choked out, your eyes squeezing shut as you fought to keep your composure.

satoru chuckled softly, his pace quickening as he angled his hips to hit that spot that made you see stars. you bit down on your knuckle, desperate to muffle the sounds threatening to escape.

“i’ll be home in a few days,” your husband continued, his tone cheerful. “we should plan a date night or something, just the two of us.”

“y-yeah,” you stammered, your voice trembling as your body tensed beneath satoru’s relentless thrusts. “that… sounds s-so good.”

satoru’s hand slipped between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight circles that sent shockwaves through your body. your legs trembled as you struggled to hold back the orgasm building deep in your core.

“well, i won’t keep you,” your husband said. “just wanted to hear your voice. i love you.”

satoru’s grin widened as he mouthed the words, say it back.

“i… i love you too,” you whispered, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue as satoru thrust into you one last time, sending you over the edge.

you barely managed to hang up before the phone slipped from your hand, your body shaking with the force of your release. satoru didn’t stop, riding out your orgasm with a smug look on his face.

“good girl,” he purred, leaning down to kiss you softly. “you did so well.”

the phone lay forgotten on the nightstand as he flipped you over onto your stomach, pressing his chest to your back. “now, let’s see how long it takes for you to forget all about him.”

#jujutsu kaisen satoru #jujutsu satoru #satoru gojo x reader #gojo saturo #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk smut #satoru smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru smut

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vegan-peppermint · 8 months ago

Text

Your Boyfriend's Bed

Pairing: Hoodie x Masky'sGF!Reader Smut MDNI

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: Cheating, creampie, rough sx, P in V

Summary: Your boyfriend is a B, but his best friend's there to take your side.

Part 2 here

Author's Note: After a three-year hiatus, I finally found the inspiration to write again—thanks to this incredible fanfiction. It sparked something in me. I can’t recommend it enough, so please show the creator some love. Their work is the reason I’m writing again after all this time. This fic is inspired by their masterpiece, so I highly encourage you to check it out first!

________________________________

More often than not, you were a collateral victim in your boyfriend and his friend’s fights. Tim and Brian were too close for your liking, they had a great co-dependency going on way before you came in the picture. If Brain was in a bad mood, so was Tim. If you got in a fight with Tim, Brian was giving you the silent treatment as well as taking sides without hesitation.

It was more than you bargained for, not realising getting Tim as a boyfriend meant taking responsibility for his grown-ass best friend as well. But you managed. With each month that passed in your relationship it was getting easier for you, to the point it was almost natural to consider them both in every action you took.

Weirdly enough, you so much preferred for them to be mad at you instead of at each other. Whenever their balance wavered they started acting batshit crazy. Tim confessed some details about their ‘alternative’ life after- what, a year in you relationship?

You didn’t fully grasp what he meant by their “alter egos” or their nighttime escapades, but you quickly realized you didn’t want to. You had your suspicions, of course. You weren’t blind. But as long as they didn’t outright spell it out for you, you could continue living in blissful ignorance. It was easier that way, and you convinced yourself that you were okay with it.

But today—today was different. Today, things had escalated to an entirely new level.

Tim was screaming at Brian, who was cloaked in that damned creepy hood that made him look so unsettling. Tim's anger seemed to grow by the second, and when “Hoodie” (as you suppose you should call him now) refused to react, it only fueled Tim’s rage.

You tried to calm him down, talk to him or something- anything.

A strained, guttural laugh escaped Tim, trembling with anger. He started explining to you how you do not even begin to understand what has happened, how you should just shut up and not get involved- his voice full with disdain, every sentence designed to belittle and assert his supposed superiority.

Now you are not the one to get angry easily, but this time- this time something in you snapped. You were done being talked down to, done being made feel small or pathetic for just wanting some peace.

“No wonder he would not bother to have your back when you act like such a prick.”

“Oh, just shut up you bit-,” his words faltered as he caught himself mid-sentence, swallowing the insult faster than a politician trying to cover his tracks.

You cannot recreate what was spoken after that word for word, just that all hell broke loose. It was no longer a fight between Tim and Brian- no, it wasn’t just them anymore. It was you and Hoodie against Tim. You were screaming and throwing your every angry complaint you had been holding in for far too long. And Hoodie- Hoodie of all people- was backing your every word, every statement. However, Hoodie’s remark is what really sealed and shipped Tim’s whole spirit.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl so frustrated with her boyfriend in my life, Masky. Can only imagine you’re lacking in some aspects.”

The words hit harder than anything you had said. They were cold, calculated, and aimed straight at the core of Tim’s pride. The room seemed to hold its breath, and for a moment, Tim stood there, trembling with the weight of the accusation. His face twisted in disbelief, but the damage had already been done.

What followed between the two of them was pure madness. Shouting, shoving, items flying off shelves—everything seemed to spin out of control. Pushing, pulling, voices rising higher and higher, until the tension reached a breaking point. Tim’s eyes flickered with something darker, something unstable, before he turned to grab his mask and stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard it shook the walls.

Well, this has happened this morning. You realise you could’ve done things differently, not taking sides or waiting for their fight to end before starting your own. That was your mistake. But leaving you hurt and angry with only Hoodie to comfort you was his.

________________________________

You were on all fours on your boyfriends bed, face buried in his pillows. Hoodie’s gloved hand pushed down on your back arching it more- your ass rising higher.

Your clothes were littering the floor from the doorway to the edge of the bed, the cold air tickling your bare skin. Your eyes landed on the wardrobe’s mirror showing your helpless reflection with Hoodie’s tall frame behind you. He was completely dressed from his boots to the black mask that covered his face- he was glacial.

His left hand- formerly on your back- grabbed your hip harshly. He dragged the other painfully slow across your side- from ass, to waist and finally around your breast. You whimpered at the harsh feeling of his gloves palming your tits.

“So sensitive…” he sighed. The nub was hardening against his touch making it easier for him to pinch or gently twist your nipple.

You inhaled sharply trying to steady yourself but being met with Tim’s smell wasn’t helping. “H-Hodie...” you whined.

His hands left your body and you heard his pants zipper opening. You tried to push yourself on your forearms, an instinct to turn around and see what you were dealing with, but before you could make a move a firm grip grabbed at the back of your neck. The sharp tug sent shivers down your spine as Hoodie yanked your head back. With a swift flick of his wrist, he let go of your nape only to have his fingers dart into your hair. His grip was certain and precise. “You’re way to eager to get on another man’s cock.” Your face was shoved once again back into the mattress.

He was watching you excitedly as he brushed his tip across your folds- a groan escaping his lips when he felt how wet you already were. There was something primal about knowing you belonged to someone else yet he got to claim you as his right now.

“Be quiet now,” he instructed sliding his cock inside you. You tried your best, you swore you did but he was so- big. Your eyes rolled upwards and your fingers gripped tightly at the sheets as you tried your best not to scream. His cock pressed deeper and deeper inside your cunt, stretching you in ways you did not even imagine possible. “You moan like a whore,” he growled with a final push. You felt your face blushing in shame- he talked to you in ways you would've never allowed your boyfriend, but on his lips those words felt so natural; almost like praises.

“Shh, shh,” he murmured, the sound gentle but insistent. You were already panting and crying just by the size of him. He gave you a moment to adjust to him being balls deep inside your aching cunt but your whines wouldn’t stop. He leaned over you, the rough material of his clothes scratching your soft skin. His hand reached to the side of your face, you thought he wanted to wipe away the tears that were sliding down your cheeks. He chuckled, his hand covering your mouth instead. “I’m gonna fuck you senseless, sweetheart.”

________________________________

“Fuck, fuck- fuck! Feels so- Agh!~”

You were screaming so fucking loudly. Your head was bumping to the ruthless rhythm of Hoodie’s thrusts. His fingers left red marks all over your ass, your hips- he was tugging at your body merciless, squeezing and scratching every inch of skin he could find.

With trembling hands you tried your best to hold onto the bed frame as Hoodie was rutting into you from behind. His balls were hitting your swollen clit so hard- again and again and- “Am so close- so close, so close!” Jaw was hanging open, you were gasping for air.

“Fucking whore,” Hoodie sighed grabbing your neck with one hand, the other searching for your open mouth. “Bet he never fucked you this good, eh?” He gave a sinister chuckle as he shoved his fingers down your throat. You followed his cruel pull falling back on his torso. He was squeezing at the sides of you neck reminding you how little and vulnerable you are right now, “You only breath right now- scream and cry- you only feel this good because I allow you to.”

You whine taking him even deeper, his cock slaming your walls faster. His fingers explored your mouth pressing down your tongue, his grip thightend.

“I could snap your neck right now, you know?”

You cry out loud in desperation, surrenedring control to him completely. Your eyes shut in anticipation, every muscle in you tightens-

“Say who you really belong to, who fucks you like a bitch in heat,” he snarls. “Say my name.”

And you do. Over and over again you do as your gummy walls squeeze around his length unbearably thight, waves of pleasure wash all over you. Hoodie’s hands allow you to gasp for air just for a second as they move under your arms grabbing you by the shoulders. His sudden body weight pushed you on your belly, fucking you deeper into the matress. His thrusts grow sloppy and desparate with no regard towards you- he was fucking you like a fleshlight.

“I’ll pump you so full of cum, MY cum-” Muffled sounds rose from deep in his chest, you were able to hear his clenched teeth through the sharp breaths he took. “Breed you so good you’ll be ruined- Fuck-” he whimpered. “Ruined for Tim,” his thrusts are brutal and harsh and- so goddamn overwhelming.

His cum shots in hot strings, his member twitching inside your ruined cunt. His hands pull you closer and hips push further trying to get as deep as possible- deeper than Tim at least.

You felt bad for comparing but the way he feels on top of you, in you- he fucked you in ways your boyfriend never could. When you tried to shift he grabbed a fistful of your hair forcing your head back. With lazy motions he started fucking his cum deeper.

“I didn’t tell you you could fucking move yet.”

This is my first fic since, what- 2021? Wow. Crazy.

I'll keep on writing my usual content as well, but creepypastas and gore-y stuff has always been something I wanted to write but never felt confident enough before. Anyways, feel free to request or send me any message, I came back from my hiatus! Never thought I'd say that lol.

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sexy-monster-fucker · 8 months ago

Text

Santa, Baby

Santa!Art the Clown x F!Reader SMUT

Summary: There’s a Christmas Party at the club the reader works at. After bumping into a strange man in the streets, she spreads the word of the party.

cw: isn’t art his own warning??, choking, fingering, mentions of blood, oral f!receiving, multiple orgasms, mentions of kidnapping, biting, violence, p in v, hair pulling, scratching, blood play, overstimulation, creampie,

a/n: imma be real with yall, if you can’t handle watching the Terrifier movies don’t read fanfiction about Art bc tagging all this stuff in the warning was CRAZY lmao

~~~

It was the Saturday before Christmas.

Some people were out shopping, other’s having festive dinner with their loved ones. And then there was you. Getting dressed up in a slutty, red Santa-dress. It sat high upon your thighs, if you even attempted to bend over your matching red lacy underwear would be on full display.

Hoping the outfit would get you better tips. Maybe even a cute guy for you to play around with. Twirling Round in the mirror before leaving your house.

The weather was nice, so you opted to walk. You did not live that far away from work, sometimes the car was easier. But you could not lie that the thought of you turning heads on the street sent a thrill through you.

As you walked down the street, you bumped into a pale man wearing a Santa outfit. Knocking his black trash bag out of his grasp. White wig, red hat and jumpsuit, and big black shoes. Noticing his crooked nose and clown-like face paint. Rather peculiar for this time of year. Almost a mix of Halloween and Christmas.

His mouth formed an ‘O’ when your eyes met. Brows quickly furrowing down at you.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” you quickly apologized. Leaning down to pick up the bag for him. Your breasts peaking through the top of your tight dress. His eyes found themselves looking down your dress. Unable to deny his mind wandering to a perverted place. Not usually the type to feel this type of thing for people. Only desire he had being to kill and be covered in their blood. But something about you made a different part of him crave you.

“I like your costume,” you complimented, “There’s this Christmas Party down at the club if you’re interested.” You dug in your purse for one of the flyers. Giving it to him. Silently examining the pamphlet, his brows raised as he nodded. You both awkwardly stood on the sidewalk. Creepy smile never leaving the clown’s face. You continued to smile back at him, eyes looking around. “Silent type? How mysterious, I like it,” you tapped your fingers against his chest, “Hopefully I’ll see you there tonight, I’ve gotta get going. Bye!” You waved him off as you walked past him. His stiff body following you until he was facing the same direction. Eyes never leaving you. Peering at how your hips swayed and ass bounced in the dress.

What was wrong with him?

You headed down to the street the club was on. Waving at the bouncer, unable to stop himself from eye-fucking you in that dress. Booping him on the nose as you entered.

The club was decorated in all Christmas lights. A handful of fake trees placed along the floor. Everyone dressed up as different holiday characters. Elves, Snowmen, Reindeer, the whole nine yards. You were greeted by your happy coworkers as you took your place behind the bar. Preparing for the night of heavy drinkers ahead. Unable to get that clown out of your mind.

The Club was booming. Extremely loud Christmas remixes, people singing along and grinding together filled the scene. Strobing lights decorated the walls as the big projected screen behind the DJ showed clips of old Christmas movies without sound. It was difficult to hear your customers like this, good thing you could read lips.

There was finally a dry spell at the bar. Giving you time to stretch your neck and legs. Rolling your shoulders as you softly bobbed your head to the music. Taking a drink of water from your bottle. Almost every seat at the bar was taken. People hitting on each other, drinking away their sorrows, and some groups filled the seats. When a familiar face sat on your side of the bar. Loud garbage bag clanged against the floor. Causing you to jump out of your skin. Eyes peered over to the source.

White and Black face paint. It was the guy from the street. Your expression beamed at him. “Hey! You came by,” you reached a hand out to him in excitement. Wide smile painted across his face as he nodded at you. Still as silent as ever.

“I’m so glad you decided to come by. Still looking good in that Santa outfit I see,” you flirted. He snickered as he tucked his face into his shoulder, pretending that your words were embarrassing him. Hands coming up to wave off your compliment. Gesturing to your body, silently complimenting you.

You walked around the bar, hands tip-toeing up his arm, “Think you’re looking for a Mrs. Claus?”

The Clown tilted his head to the side. Eyes scanning your entire body, resting on your breasts with a devious smile. Looking up at you through his lashes, nodding slowly. You smiled at him.

“Can you cover me?” You called out to your coworker behind the bar. She gave a thumbs up as she poured a shot for a customer. You smiled giddily at him. His brows raising as he returned the look. He stood from his seat, towering over you. He was so tall. Long fingers wrapped around your wrist as he dragged you down a dark hallway. Garbage bag occasionally scraping the wall. He led you around as if he knew the place. Familiar with the proper hiding spots. Arousal pooled deep in your bones. Where his hand held your wrist ignited throughout your body.

He stopped in front of a dingy door to an abandoned bathroom. Opening it and allowing you in first. It was dark in the old bathroom. You never used this one, reserved for occasional hookups and doing lines for your coworkers. The mysterious clown flicked on the dimly yellow bulb. Pointing excitedly towards the old stained mirror. The words “Art Was Here” was written in some type of red. Assuming it was some lipstick.

“Is that your name?”

Art nodded happily. Jumping up and down and clapping. You leaned against the cold brick wall. Arms folded over your chest as you stared at him. Examining his tall figure. His loosely fitting Santa costume leaving most of him up to your imagination. Except for those hands. Long, strong fingers. Barely peaking out of the fingerless gloves he wore.

His expression dropped suddenly. Brows falling in a straight line over his eyes. Mouth sealed with a hint of a frown. You felt your heartbeat speed up. A small amount of fear taking over at his sudden mood change. His head tilted slightly, eyes tracing your body. Your eyes darted around the dark room unsure of what his next move was. Was he going to fuck you? Kill you? Maybe nothing at all.

Before you could open your mouth he lunged at you. Thick fingers wrapped around your throat. Strong grasp around your windpipe. Pulling every bit of air out of you. Your eyes widened at him. A smirk of mischief painting the corner of his mouth. Leaning forward as if he was going to kiss you, turning into a long stripe licked up your face. Shoulders bounced with silent laughter. Fingers tightening around your jugular. You could feel yourself struggling to breathe. Vision growing slightly blurry with each passing minute. Art’s fingers traced down your body, squeezing your breasts along the way. Hooked up under your dress. Raising his eyebrows in surprise when he felt your lacy panties soaking wet. Wagging his finger at you, partially shaming you for your arousal.

You gasped for air that you did not receive. Feeling woozy. Art’s finger going back down to your aching core, circling your clit with two fingers. A broken moan escaped your throat. Dark eyes stared at your face. Watching how it contorted when he would hit the spot you liked. Feeling his cock growing with the pathetic noises you made.

Just as you felt yourself about to faint, Art removed his hand from your neck. Your own hand replaced his as you began heaving for air. Sliding slightly down the wall, firmer against his fingers. He puckered his lip out mocking the tears that stained the corners of your eyes. Your moans were far louder now. Being able to fully express yourself and the harder feeling of his fingers. His dark eyes watched how your chest bounced with each moan you let out.

Art slipped his middle finger under your panties, sliding it into your soaked folds. Causing your body to buckle forward against him. Grabbing his shoulder for support as your legs grew shaky and weak. Emotionless eyes met yours. Face still and unmoving as you pleaded up at him with your doe eyes. Curling his finger while the others continue circling your clit. His name fell from you in a cry as you felt that familiar tightening in your lower abdomen.

He knew his way around the human body, that was for sure. Knowing all the right places to inflict pain or pleasure. Usually he enjoyed seeing the way people would desperately run from him, crying out in pain when he would strike them down. Loving the way blood and guts warmed up his hands. But here he was, keeping you in tact while still feeling your insides. Adoring the way your sensitive insides clamped around his finger. How your body begged for him to please it. Walls pulling him deeper into you. Still getting that same pleasure as he watched you cry out and cling to him. The way tears stained under your eyes and fingers dug into his skin pooling inside him. Feeling his own arousal begin growing in his oversized pants.

You began thrusting up and down on his fingers. Widening his eyes as he watched you chase your high with his fingers. Opting to slide another into you, curling and scraping against your insides. Grazing that spongey spot that sent electricity through you. Curiosity painted his expression now. With one final curl of fingers, you came undone around him. Walls fluttering and sucking in his fingers. Arousal leaking down his digits as he continued pumping into you. Your entire body began shaking as you dug your fingers into his shoulders, having to hold them both to stabilize yourself. Your face curled into the crook of his neck. Skin smelling of sweat and iron.

Art pushed you against the wall. Standing stiffly in front of you as you panted. Face red with post orgasm glow. Feeling your walls clamp around nothing now. Craving something more. A closed mouth smile morphed into a wicked grin, baring his stained teeth. Examining his fingers that had been inside you. Pulling them apart while they were still connected by your arousal, a slimey rope connecting them. Taking his fingers into his mouth, sucking the taste of you off them. Eyes rolling into the back of his head. Sucking them off with a pop.

Unable to deny that that did something for you. Your chest was tight as you looked his body up and down. Landing on the faint tent pitched in his pants.

The tall clown fell to his knees in front of you. Crawling over and throwing the front of your dress up. Staring at your ruined panties. Soaked lace sticking to your lips. His hand rubbed up your leg, with a tug of brute force ripping your panties off in one go. Cold air hitting your heated mound. He suddenly licked up into your pussy. Tongue dancing down the slit, lapping at the remainder of you. He took one of your legs and threw it over his shoulder, giving him better access to you.

Art ate you out like it was going to be his last meal. Sloppily, his tongue spread your folds while his hands held tightly into your thighs. His crooked nose bumping against your throbbing clit. Still overstimulated from your first orgasm. Knowing it would not take long for him to take you there again at this rate.

“Art, I’m going to cum again,” your voice was shaken.

He nodded aggressively, refusing to remove from your opening. He had found a new favorite taste. Unable to get enough of you. If he could, he would bottle your taste up and take it home with him. Or maybe even take you away with him. Lock you up in his warehouse so he could taste you whenever he wanted. He knew you would taste especially good when your period would come around. His two favorite flavors combined.

You began grinding down onto his face. Pushing his nose against your clit over and over. Chasing your secondary high, unsure how many more he would have you endure. Not really caring. If they all felt this good you would let him have you however he wanted. Unwinding on his face. Art pressed his tongue between your folds wanting to feel them contort against his it. You slid down the wall loosing yourself. Art held you up like it was no problem. A strange strength coming from him. Your eyes squinted shut momentarily trying to catch your breath.

Art continued licking until you subsided. Standing, his face covered in your juices. Oddly none of his makeup smudged. You had to find out where he bought his foundation. Hooded eyes gazed down at you. You looked so pathetic sliding into the floor in front of him. Tits rising as you panted. He pictured how your lungs looked expanding in your chest. Desire to rip you open filling his thoughts. Fading when he felt his cock throbbing.

Long digits reached out to help you to your feet. Releasing you and letting you tumble back, head hitting the cold brick. You winced when it started to ache. Silently he laughed and pointed at you. Miming you hitting your head. You scowled up at him. He definitely enjoyed your pain. Something you were too overstimulated to care about. He rolled his eyes at you when you did not laugh along with him, reaching his hand out again. Swirling his finger in a circle gesturing for you to try again.

Art pulled you flush against his chest. Stronger than anyone else you had ever been in contact with. Acting as if you weighed nothing. You fluttered your lashes up at him. Mouth hung open as you continued taking deep breaths in. Abruptly he turned you around, forcing you against the sink. Staring at him through the mirror. Watching how his hands massaged and stroked your torso in the reflection. His nose traveled from your shoulder up to your neck. Tongue coming out to lick at your throat. Pulling skin between his teeth as he sucked a deep purple bruise there. You moaned for him, loving the attention he gave to your skin. His hands gripped your chest, pulling your breasts out of your top. Cold fingertips pinched at your hardening bulbs. His eyes fixated on your chest in the mirror. Tongue traveling further up your neck until it ended behind your ear.

He was entranced by your body. Not ever taking the time to see how things changed when someone was sexually aroused. Being all too familiar with how the body acted with pure terror. Your fastening heart rate thumped against his hands. Feeling your pulse against his lips had his desires in overdrive. He could have devoured you right there. Smeared your blood all over the walls of this shit-hole bathroom. Fucked your bloodied mouth while you fought within an inch of your life to survive.

But that would not satisfy him.

Sure, your flesh ripped between his teeth would be nice. But hearing all the pathetic cries and moans you made for him was even better. The way you would whine his name was like music to his ears.

Art reached down, freeing his length from the confides of his red pants. He was swollen and leaking pre-cum. Pushing your back forward forcing you to bend over the sink. Holding yourself up with your hands as you held eye contact in the mirror. He kicked your legs apart further, making sure he could get into you. Grabbing his cock by the base and swirling it around your slick. Coating himself with you, testing the waters of how far he was willing to go. You were so warm and welcoming. He could always leave you out to dry. Just play around and never fuck you. But he needed his own release. And the way you whined his name when he dipped a little deeper his mind was made up.

Art slammed himself into you. Hands gripping your skirt upon your lower back. Watching the way your ass bounced against his cock. Wickedly grinning at the sight of him penetrating you. Tongue coming out to glaze his rotten teeth. Sound of your skin smacking mixed with your screaming moans was like music to his ears. He was relentless. Length hitting deep inside you. One of his hands tangled in your hair, arching your neck back to force you to watch in the mirror.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you called to him like a prayer each time he would sheath inside you. His long shaft stretched your entrance perfectly. You scrunched your face up and rolled your eyes back as he continued pounding into you. Mouth forming an ‘O’. Your insides spasmed around his cock as it filled you up. Art’s brows twitched with pleasure. His toothy grin was unwieldy.

His other hand gripped your ass. Nails breaking the skin as he clawed at your soft flesh. Loving how your crimson red painted your cheek. Collecting the blood on his finger tips and pressing them against your aching nub once again. Circling the sensitivity. Breath hitched in your throat as he leaned further into his grasp on your hair. Closing your eyes and screaming loudly for him. Feeling your orgasm approaching rapidly.

Art’s pace was brutal. Snapping his hips up into you. With each circle of fingers and flick of hips, you were seeing stars. Almost too drunk on cock to form sentences. Never imagining when you got dressed today your night would go like this. Lost in ecstasy of pleasure. Coil winding tighter and tighter in your stomach.

Fingers taking you to a place of pure hormonal bliss. Insides quaking and pulling him deeper. Art’s mouth shaped into an ‘O’ realizing you were cumming around his cock. Nodding with satisfaction as his dark eyes pierced into yours. Watching how drool fell out of your mouth and sweat rolled down your body.

Art pulled his fingers up, seeing the crimson red was now a softer pink. Shoving the combination of you into his mouth. Licking between his fingers like something from a porno. His shoulders relaxed as he continued fucking into you. Your entire body was shaking. Legs wobbled like they would give out on you any second.

His wet fingers rubbed at your chest. Tracing up and curling between your lips. Forcing their way into your mouth. Taking them like he wanted. He released his grip on your hair, planting the hand against your hip instead. Pinning you with his hips. Clearing chasing his own high now. Continuing to watch as he pumped his fingers into your mouth. Loving the sound of you gagging and slobbering. Feeling himself twitch inside you. His breathing picking up as he focused where he punctured you.

Watching how perfectly you sucked him in. Wanting to cum all inside you. Wanted you so filled with him you could barely walk. Knowing it would make you crave him forever. Addicted to the feeling of his seed inside you.

Hips pressed flush against yours. Shooting his white hot inside you. Coating your walls with his cum. Holding still so he could feel you milk him. He rolled his neck and leaned his head back, never having felt something this good. His chest pounded as he begged for air. Deep breaths filling his desperate lungs.

You slumped against the sink. Quivering arms and legs fighting to hold you up. Resting your head on your arms. Your cunt having been worked to its limit.

Art stood up straighter behind you. Flattening his suit down with his hands. Smiling at you in the mirror as he tucked his member back away. Waving his fingers at you.

You were unsure who this man was, but you never wanted to be apart from him.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! This is only my second time writing for Art, but I sure do love writing him. Expressing his mannerisms is so fun. If you have any requests for him, please send them my way! I look forward to future Fics! //

{tags}

@l0sercat ~ @tedi28 ~ @hyperfixated-clown ~ @papispam ~ @melaninatedhorrorqueen ~ @lcvsanaa ~ @dilfismz ~ @knoepfl ~ @tuttifuckinfruttifriday ~ @spookysquids

#art the clown #art the clown x reader #terrifier #terrifer 3 #david howard thornton #David Howard Thornton x reader #writing #fanfic #sexymonsterfics #christmas #Santa

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shy-writer-999 · 6 months ago

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Keeping warm with Ace - no nut December? 🔥

Summary: Ace half-jokingly declares a vow of no-nut December. When he manages to last a few days, how will the dry spell be broken? ~1.4k words. CW: SMUT! Afab reader w/gendered language (e.g. "princess"), fingering, P in V, dirty talk. Minors don't interact - nsfw content!

Art by the lovely @hirakyun13 (thank you for collabing with me!)

“You only love me so much because I let you hit all the time.”

When he heard your words, Ace bursted out laughing. He feigned a gasp. “Do you have such a low opinion of me, princess?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m jokinggg, Ace. But you sure are rabid recently. Not like I have a problem with it or anything.”

His lips curled into that sweet smile of his as he brought his lips to your cheek. “Well, then. I’ll show you how wrong you are. Let’s see how much you like me not jumping your bones every three seconds. No nut December.”

“Ace,” you laughed. “You’re going to last a day.”

Somehow, though, he managed to last multiple.

---

Ages ago, you booked a holiday trip with Ace. A nice vacation from your lives, a reprieve from the stress and endless list of tasks to do.

The chalet—or rather, cabin—was gorgeous. It felt like it was in the middle of nowhere, in a forest of tall pines covered in heavy snow that weighed their branches down. They would have looked melancholy if it wasn’t for the bright white heaps of snow on the bows to remind you what time of year it was.

Ace’s joke-abstinence no-nut-December lasted until the second day of your extended stay at the beautiful A-frame cabin—so, in total, he lasted a good few days.

He tried his hardest and it was amusing, but really, he could barely keep it together. Boner 24/7. You figured it wouldn’t be too hard to break him, but it was great entertainment to tease him for as long as he could hold out for. Besides, after waiting for a few days you knew that the sex, once it finally happened, would be that much better.

---

On your second day at the cabin—the day that Ace broke his “no nut December”—after a nice long walk in the snow outside (interrupted by a blizzard), you and Ace returned to the cabin and undressed. Time for a shower to warm you to your bones—scalding hot and steamy.

While you showered, Ace lit a fire in the fireplace; he warmed up the blankets on the plushy, king-size bed and then lit a candle.

When you emerged from the shower, hair wet and skin damp, you snuggled up in the blankets, no clothes on (to soak in the warmth that you knew Ace placed there).

“Come warm me up, Ace.” You requested and he happily obliged, like always. ‘Warming you up’ was one of his favorite things, mostly because it just involved touching you. He would take any and every chance he could get. And of course, now that he was at the end of his mini-dry spell, he looked forward to it all the more. Might now be the time to break his multi-day streak?

When he slid in bed with you and pressed his body on yours, his warmth flooded through your body. He got as warm as he could get without being too hot.

It was a double satisfaction for you—getting warm, and then teasing Ace so hard you knew he’d fold like a lawn chair.

He wrapped a hand around your front and pulled you close to him, taking a deep inhale of your freshly washed hair and squeezing you tight to his chest.

You laid there for a while, happy and toasty, almost drifting off to sleep when you realized that you felt something hard pressing onto you from behind. Obviously, it was Ace.

So, you did what any reasonable person would do and snuggled back into him, brushing his hard-on in a way that made his breath hitch. It was easy to play him like a fiddle because he was figuratively on his knees for you every moment of the day. He’d do anything for you and worshipped the ground you walked on.

You pressed back again, harder, overtly deliberate now, and he let out a quiet gasp as he felt your warm skin graze his aching shaft through his underwear.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I can’t take it anymore.” His hand passed down to grip your hip and he rutted his hips, effectively humping you through his underwear. Quiet but deep grunts slipped out of him every couple seconds, and as you felt him roll into you it started to make you feel some sort of way—how could it not?

After Ace rubbed himself on you like that for a while, he started to get more worked up. Unapologetic groans fell out of his pretty lips and his breathing quickened.

A hand creeped downwards, towards the valley where your thighs met. He repositioned you slightly to give himself better access, then slid his fingers inwards to caress your folds and soft spots.

Those rough, thick fingers felt godly when he warmed them up and touched you gently like this. He turned you into a sopping-wet mess within a couple minutes, thighs shaking slightly, and breaths shallow, punctured by the occasional, muted moan.

“Let those sounds out, angel. I wanna hear ‘em.” He whispered in your ear and you could feel his hot puffs of breath on your skin. His fingers plunged in and out, making you squirm as he curved them and spread them inside of you.

Soft moans and sounds of bliss fell from your lips unrestrained at his request. He made his fingers warmer still, and it felt like heaven as he drew circles around your clit then slipped his fingers inside and out again.

After a while, you started to lose focus. You couldn’t tell where his skin stopped and where yours began.

“Ace—I need you,” you managed to choke out.

Promptly flipping you over so you were facing him, Ace pushed your leg up, over his hip, and pulled you into a long, affectionate kiss before he brought his throbbing shaft out of his boxers and started to line himself up with your entrance.

When he sunk you down onto his length, your eyes rolled back in your head, not in jest this time but in pure pleasure.

Immediately, Ace started to thrust his hips upwards in small jerks, fucking you shallowly and slowly.

“Fuck—you’re perfect,” Ace groaned and bucked his hips deeper, sliding deliciously into you and passing over your hot spot.

Every few seconds he greedily pulled you into a kiss, and each time your lips met in increasing desperation.

His grip on your hip tightened. It was almost painful now. As he thrusted into you faster, he started to moan into your mouth, deep groans that went straight to your core and vibrated your lips ever so slightly.

Too many presses of his girth past your g-spot and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Ace, I’m gonna cum soon,” you gasped, and he slammed into you particularly hard, pressing on the spot he knew would make you feel the best.

“Do it, baby,” his hips rocked into and wet noises echoed in your ears. “Show me, ah, fuck, s-show me how good I make you feel.”

Ace slammed into your g-spot again and it sent you reeling headfirst into your orgasm. White-hot pleasure jolted through you, radiating from your sticky, pulsing core outwards to your limbs where it stalled in tingling zaps of bliss.

You couldn’t tell, since you were lost in the crushing weight of your climax, but your toes curled the hardest they had before, and you writhed on Ace’s cock so hard that it made him cum.

His body seized up alongside yours and his heartrate threatened to explode out of his chest. Deafening groans—one of the best parts of having sex with him—escaped his lips as every muscle in his body went taught. “Fuuuuhhhhccckkkk.”

When you were done floating through bliss, there was quite the mess to clean up. But, ever the gentleman, Ace told you to just lay there and not move a muscle. He got you cleaned up then went back to spooning you and keeping you warm.

oh my GOD, the piece becca (@hirakyun13 / @becca-oak ) drew has me literally drooling. also she sent this fic idea to me so she's really holding this whole piece on her back rn. please check out her page and drop a follow!!! (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

if you liked this fic, check out my masterlist and the masterlist for this short holiday event! 🎄🎄🎄

merry christmas & happy new year!!

#i need him BAD #the way his hands look here makes me wanna bark #portgas d ace smut #portgas ace smut #ace one piece #one piece ace #fire fist ace #one piece smut #op smut #op x reader #one piece x reader #one piece reader insert #portgas d ace x you #portgas d ace x reader #portgas d ace x y/n #ace one piece smut #z's holiday event

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meiyokbf · 7 days ago

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under your spell | megan x g!p!reader | part four

author's note: sorry for the delay babes, been moving places and my life has been insane. alsoooo, thoughts about “beautiful chaos”? my top favorites are gabriela, gnarly and mean girls!! lmk if you guys are enjoying UYS, my asks are always open for ideas, questions or thoughts regarding the UYS universe :) hope you guys like this chapter xoxo

warnings: mdni. stripper!megan x g!p!reader, slightly manon x lara. smut, dry humping, p in v, fingering (megan recieving), dirty talking (ish), smoking, idek megan being avoidant and pookie coded again, lara also being avoidant.

word count: 6,8k.

🏷️: katseye, megan x reader, megan skiendiel x reader, katseye x reader, katseye smut, megan smut, manon x lara, marz, daniela avanzini.

masterlist. | prev. I next.

you’d read the text so many times your screen had started to feel like it might file a complaint.

(y/n): my favorite jacket smells like you now. it’s kinda yours by law.

(y/n): you should come and reclaim your prize.

it was supposed to be funny. casual. something someone cool would send without immediately regretting it. and yet, by sunday morning, it had transformed into something too sharp to touch.

you sat curled on the end of the couch, wearing the hoodie like armor, knee bouncing like it had somewhere more confident to be. your annotated copy of pride and prejudice sat abandoned on the coffee table, open to a page you weren’t reading. you hoped that mr. darcy could wait; existential dread had RSVP’d early. and then you heard the sound of the door burst open.

— don’t ask me about rehearsal, i will cry or commit arson. — daniela’s voice rang out as she kicked the door closed with her heel.

you blinked up at her.

— oh. i didn’t know you were coming over.

— well, i needed to steal manon’s vegan protein bars and complain. and now i walk in and find this. — she gestured to your slumped posture, the haunted expression, the pride and prejudice trauma pile. — did someone die, or did you finally fall in love with a walking red flag?

— okay. both feel a little targeted.

she tossed her bag to the side, iced coffee in hand, and dropped into a squat next to you like she was assessing a casualty.

— talk to me, nerd.

you groaned, rubbing your face. — manon dragged me to that velvet room place on friday.

— the one that looks like the personification of a vanilla vape?

— yes. that one. and i… may have hooked up with someone.

daniela raised an eyebrow. — and i’m just hearing about this now?

— manon caught me doing the walk of shame. i told her. haven’t had a chance to-

— breathe? process? confess to your best friend?

— well, actually manon is my bes-

— to your best friend, daniela avanzini? betrayal. — she rolled her eyes and sipped her coffee. — who was it?

you hesitated. — her name’s megan. dances under jade. she’s… something else.

daniela blinked. — wait. the dancer with the pink bangs?

— yeah.

— and you didn’t think this was worth a single text?

you cringed. — we went back to her place. it was… a lot. but then the next morning she was distant. weird. and last night i sent this.

you handed over your phone to daniela. she read the message, then looked at you like you’d just handed her a handwritten will.

— “yours by law”? what are you, emily dickinson with attachment issues?

— i was going for fun flirty with a hint of possessive chic.

— you landed on please haunt me. congrats.

you let your head fall back against the cushion.

— i don’t know what i’m doing.

— do you like her?

you hesitated. the pause said more than anything else. — i don’t know. but i can’t stop thinking about her.

daniela sighed, setting your phone on the table.

— okay. step one: you’re a disaster. step two: you’re a hot disaster, so it might work in your favor. but don’t let some emotionally stunted stripper turn you into a sad gay meme. you know you deserve more than this.

— i already am a sad gay meme.

— yeah, but now you’re main character sad. that’s a health hazard.

— thanks. i think. — you managed a laugh. soft, but real.

— always. now let’s hope she texts back before your pride files a missing person’s report.

as if on cue, the door cracked open again. manon shuffled in with a brown tote bag, dark sunglasses, and a drink in each hand. went straight to the kitchen and gasped as if she just found out that her husband had a 7 year old affair with her sister. — who stole my protein bars?

daniela raised a hand. — guilty. emotional crisis. you get it.

manon pulled off her glasses, eyes landing on you. — okay, you look like you just got ghosted or blessed. which is it?

— they texted their emotionally damaged girlfriend. — daniela supplied helpfully.

manon nearly dropped her drink. — you sent her the jacket text?

— yes. i panicked. it felt funnier in my head.

manon plopped down next to you, tucking her legs under her. — fuck. you’re such a loser, i love you for that. has she replied?

you shook your head. — okay. then we wait. like soft lesbians with too much time on our hands.

daniela leaned forward. — is she stringing you along, or do you think she’s just scared?

— maybe both. she’s so hard to read.

— then stop trying to read her and let her spell it out. — she paused and cringed at herself. — bad metaphor. ignore that.

you snorted. your phone buzzed. everyone froze.

you reached for it slowly, already bracing.

megan: if i come over, it’s not for talking.

you stared at it. your heart thudded so loud it was embarrassing, even for you.

— holy shit. — manon said softly. then you typed back.

(y/n): wasn’t planning to talk.

the reply came a beat later.

megan: that’s good.

a hush fell.

daniela stood. — well. that’s one way to break tension.

manon handed you the last of her stolen protein bars. — chew on something before you do anything dramatic.

you nodded. still staring at the screen.

whatever this was, it wasn’t nothing. and somehow, that was both terrifying and kind of thrilling.

what was meant to be playful had become this jagged thing you couldn’t stop prodding. you sat at the edge of the couch, your favorite leather jacket; megan’s scent still lingering, laying next to you, knees bouncing like they were trying to escape.

the rest of your apartment felt cluttered, to say the very least. you spent the afternoon waiting for megan trying your best to keep your mind off of her. a couple piles of comic books alongside uni stuff, your laptop still open to this morning’s quiet reading of your favorite the picture of dorian gray review, half-empty coffee mugs scattered. this was your world today: soft and rife with longing.

manon had left twenty minutes earlier; went to dinner with another friend of hers and gladly used it as an excuse to make you get laid. while daniela promptly texted you a “if she fucks you up, text me a knife emoji and i’ll take care of it.”

when the knock came, your heart jolted so hard you nearly dropped your phone.

you stood, straightening your outfit while preparing yourself mentally to open the door.

and when you finally did, megan stood there, silhouetted half in the hallway light, half swallowed by the doorway. makeup smudged, sweat dampened the ends of her hair; she looked unsteady in the best possible way. beautiful as ever.

— you look tense. — she said, voice low. observation, not accusation.

— i’m… holding up. — you managed, stepping aside. she came in without a word, scanning your place; the english lit books, the star wars and batman posters, the carefully labeled-by-a-label-maker hard drives by your desk.

her eyelids flicked over a shelf where your dungeons and dragons figurines stood, miniature warriors poised for battle. you thought you saw a familiar curve of nostalgia cross her eyes.

— god, you’re a nerd. — she said, half-smile playing on her lips.

— guilty as charged. — you replied, matching her tone. the room hummed with unsaid weight. you both sensed that something raw was coming.

— couch? — you offered, voice steadier than you felt.

— sure. — she said, shrugging off her jacket. you sat on one side, her settling five feet away. distance felt safe but electric.

you tried to look casual. watched her as she wiped her palms over her jeans, every motion deliberate. your eyes flicked to her boots, the way her fingers flexed, the faint sheen where the late-afternoon light caught her skin.

— so… — you began. — …you said you weren’t here for talking.

— i meant it. — she said, gaze fixed on the table. — not today. not right now.

— then we don’t talk — you said softly. — we do something else.

she shifted. the couch creaked. your heart stumbled at how close she’d moved, now two seats away. you smelled her: sweat, faint spice, heat that stayed with her.

— what do you have in mind? — she asked, voice careful but curious.

— you tell me. — you said, finally looking at her eyes. — you’re the one that despises casual conversation.

she exhaled sharply, then leaned back. your heartbeat thundered.

— you’re such a tease, (y/n). — she muttered. — tell me, is this couch worth getting ruined?

you moved one arm to rest on the back of the couch. your knee brushed hers, you didn’t pull back.

— only if it gets you closer. — you almost whispered. her breath hitched, and then she cracked an edge of a smile. the most beautiful smile you could ever lay your eyes upon. megan’s eyes flicked up, tracking the movement carefully like a tiger analyzing their next prey.

she swallowed, then leaned forward, pressing her palm flat on the couch next to yours. invitation, you thought. and so you closed the gap, hand grazing hers in a casual, deliberate way. that small electric spark hummed louder than the world outside.

— so… — she whispered, dragging a fingertip across your jaw. — i’m here. now what?

you took a breath, chest tightening at how deliberate she sounded. she was testing you. measuring the room. measuring you.

— show me what you came for. — you teased.

— challenge accepted. — she muttered under her breath.

her fingers curled around your jaw, thumbs brushing your lips as her gaze dropped to your mouth. you parted, inviting, and she slipped in: kiss deep and greedy, mouth warm and real. your hands found her waist, chest gliding between ribs. the weight of her presence filled every corner of your mind. she pulled away, just enough to murmur while feeling your breath against hers.

— that couch’s gonna regret it. — you said while she leaned in again, harder. you wordlessly let her climb into your lap. the furniture creaked under her weight. she pressed you down, knee on the cushion, hands tangling in your hair. everything felt sharp; her skin, her breath, your thoughts.

— you’re such a nerd. — she whispered, voice rough with desire. — this is going to be hilarious.

— only if you laugh. — you shot back, grinding into her.

the friction made both your breath hitch. her hands tightened in your hair, head tipping back as she moaned. the contrast of your nerdy persona and raw lust sent heat flaring through her chest.

— tell me something filthy. — she demanded.

— you want truth or dare? — you teased.

— truth. — she hissed.

— i want… — you said, carefully, swallowing your nervousness. — i want to wring moans out of you until your throat hurts.

she inhaled sharply, then slammed your head forward, kissing you again. lips rough, teeth grazing. your hands roamed up her back, over her tank top, tracing the curve of her spine. at this point, the knot below your belly button only felt tighter and tighter. an itch that only megan could scratch.

— you’re fucking insane. — you said, breathless when you pulled away. — and totally hot when you’re trying not to feel anything.

she froze. for a second. then laughed, harsh and joyless.

— god, don’t you dare feel fucking sorry for me. — she muttered, grinding herself into your lap. — feel this instead.

her body rolled with yours, every movement fierce. you slipped your hands under her top again, dragging it up, feeling her ribs, the arch of her stomach. she sighed, leaning back so you could slide it off. no bra, obviously. skin gleaming where your fingers passed. she smiled once she saw your reaction to it; you knew you probably looked like a boy seeing a pair of breasts for the first time.

— damn. — she muttered. — you’re glad i didn’t wore anything underneath?

— fucking glad. — you breathed, and then she cupped your cheek, with a fierce look on her eyes.

— then let me fuck that out of you. — she whispered.

she crushed her lips to yours again, one arm braced on your shoulders to hold her steady, the other pulling at your shirt. you helped her, half-pulling, half-yanking the fabric until it tore free. you tossed it across the room. skin met skin; a shock of heat and urgency. she grinded into your thigh, voice thick and needy. she wanted you more than she was ready to admit. your cock was already rock hard, trying its best to free itself from the fabric of your pants; failing miserably.

— you’re so hard. shit, you’re hard for me.

you smirked, sliding your hand to her thigh, squeezing. — turns out i get like this around you.

— around me? — she paused mid-motion and breathed, as if she was holding it back for ages. — god.

then she leaned forward, pressing her forehead to yours. your bodies moved, friction building. you slid your hands under her jeans’ waistband, brushing skin. her hips lifted, another invitation.

— want this?

— yes. god, yes… — she groaned, her voice filled with need, making you smile. the way her defenses went down every time you got her like this made you feel like the biggest person on the planet.

you kissed her collarbone, hands fumbling with her buttons, pulling her denim pants down. your fingers decided to put her underwear only to the side; something about fucking her while she wore it kinda drove you insane. her pulse pounded in her neck, then she caught her breath.

— you’re so fucking cute when you’re desperate. — she whispered as she tugged her jeans free.

— so are you, when you’re trying not to feel feelings. — you teased.

she laughed. soft, close to tears maybe.

— shut up and fuck me. — she snapped, voice rough with need.

you slid a hand between her legs, fingers teasing. she gasped and bucked, pressing against you with no shame. you adored seeing her act like a complete bitch upon you.

— damn, megan, you’re soaked… — you said, fingers slick.

— yeah? — she whispered, closing her eyes. — turns out i get like this around you.

— then make me yours tonight. — you whispered, without even thinking about what you said.

— i don’t do that. — she moaned softly, pressing her mouth to your temple.

— maybe you just forgot how. — you said, pulling her closer. she froze. your words landed, the air shifted.

— fuck, (y/n). — she hissed. — stop doing that.

— what did i do?

she never answered to that question. though, you already imagined the answer. you kissed her temple as you rubbed slow circles on her swollen clit, while her back arched with need upon you as she tried to get as friction as possible. the couch groaned under pressure as bodies moved, the world shrinking to each moan, each breath. neither of you held back; both pushed, fought and surrendered. you slipped two fingers inside her, slow, deliberate, and she trembled and instinctively bit your shoulder.

— oh, fuck… — she rasped. — you’re deep, so deep.

— want more? — you asked softly.

— yes, (y/n). — she murmured. — fuck, yes…

you moved, slow at first then harder. you ground up, her body wrapped around yours. the movement was instinctual, feral. the way it was supposed to be.

— you like it when i fill you up like this, huh? — you asked rhetorically, voice low.

— it feels so fucking good… — she moaned, making you smile once more. maybe, just maybe, you could never get enough of her. and accepting that was one hell of a task. you picked up the pace, matching her rhythm. every thrust hit her g-spot as if your fingers were meant to be inside of her.

— please, don’t stop. — she whispered, her grip tightened in your hair. you felt the shift, the trembling of her body ready to break. her pussy swallowed your fingers as if it wanted to crush them, to trap them inside and never let them go. she was close, you could tell. and now it was you that wanted to give her something she would never forget.

— let go for me, baby. i got you.

her head fell back, silent whine rising to a scream. her body trembled as if an earthquake took over her, nails gripping on your skin painfully but it was definitely a pain worth feeling; seeing her like this, for you and because of you, was absolutely priceless. she collapsed into you, and you followed not far behind, arm circling her waist to keep her steady. when it ended, you both froze, chests rising and falling, heads touching, skin slick and electric.

— we can do this again. — she whispered after a while, voice small. for some reason, the tables were turned. you, being the loser that you always were, felt protective over her for reasons you failed to understand, with a wave of confidence hitting you every time you felt that the people you cared about showed their most vulnerable side. and megan, of course, promised herself that she would never let those types of feelings take over her mind again. and yet, here she was. small and sweet, scared and wounded.

— we can. — you said softly. — and we will.

the room around you flickered with late-afternoon light, but everything narrowed to the heat between your bodies, the slick of sweat, the taste of salt and fear and something more tangled. the place was quiet but for the faint hum of the city outside, reminding you both this was sunday afternoon, again. but neither of you spoke of time.

megan’s fingertips traced the stretch of your shoulder, light and tentative, like she feared your skin would crack. you swallowed when she leaned closer, breath grazing your collarbone. your pulse hammered at how close she dared to be, then pulled back.

— you feel so… intense. — she murmured, voice low like she was scolding herself. you’d kissed her temple; your hand drifted to her face, your thumb caressing her cheek slowly.

— intense works. — you teased, voice thick. — you like it raw, right?

her nails dug into your arm, reflex, and she shook her head.

— i like control. — she said soft, barely letting it out.

you smirked, palms sliding up her sides. — control’s overrated.

she stiffened, but didn’t pull away. her eyes flicked closed when your hand hooked into her underwear’s waistband.

— maybe… but i like knowing i can stop it. — her voice trembled, not with fear but drive.

you didn’t dare to remove her underwear, so you slid your hand between her legs once more, fingertips brushing her wet pussy. she gasped, body tightening.

— control’s overrated until it comes undone. — you whispered.

she didn’t respond, just let you guide her down onto your bare chest. her skin landed warm and damp; your cock brushed against the middle of her legs. she froze for a heartbeat.

— go slow… — she murmured, voice low, far from certainty.

you braced your hand on the couch, steadied your breath. — slow it is.

your fingers pressed into her back to hold her close as she shifted. your member pressed at the denim, friction rippling through both of you. her hips rolled against your lap, trying her best to get a single drop of your touch.

— fuck. — she whispered, voice thin. — you feel so… real.

you curled your free hand into her hair. — so do you.

her head tipped back, her eyes rolling to the back of her head. she bit her lip to still a moan, but failed.

— don’t. — she breathed. — don’t get soft…

— maybe i don’t do soft easily. — you replied low.

her hips ground again. just gentle, teasing. her gaze dropped to your throat, then shot up to meet your eyes; searching, afraid to trust.

she swallowed hard and moved again, humping her cunt on your cock with mastery; slowly, but surely. you pressed her closer, hands sliding over her ribs.

her hands gripped your arms as she kissed you, soft at first, then hungry. her fingers decided to tangle in your hair while the rest of the world dropped away.

— say it. — she murmured mid-kiss. — say you want me.

your breath caught and you pulled back slightly. — i fucking want you, megan.

she pressed her forehead to yours, lips parted. — good. don’t make me regret it.

— regret what? — you asked, necessity in your voice.

— letting you keep kissing me. — she bit out, voice raw.

you kissed her again, slow and deep. her hands ran down your chest, over your cock pressed against your denim. goosebumps rose along your skin, as if it wanted her more than you did.

— i need to be inside you. — you whispered, voice thick.

megan’s breath hitched. — then fill me up again. — she said, firm.

you unbuttoned your jeans, sliding them down with your own underwear; megan stilled as your cock spilled free, dripping with arousal and pre-cum.

— fuck, you’re still so hard. — she whispered, eyes on you.

— your fault. dick. — you answered, voice husky, remembering your last conversation.

she left your lap so she could lay down on the couch, then snapped her fingers against your chest. — come here.

you moved upon her, cock sliding along her thigh. she guided your hands on her torso, letting you explore her ribs, her waist. she seemed smaller now, vulnerable; and it broke your chest wide open.

she closed her eyes and turned into your touch. your cock slid between her pussy, slick sound where she was wet. neither of you flinched, bodies locked.

— let me feel you, baby. — she said.

you pressed forward, just your tip. she inhaled sharply, legs squeezing reflexively. for a moment neither of you moved. then you pushed inside her slow; nothing rushed, it felt sacred.

— holy fuck, you’re so big… — she gasped as you stretched her open. her walls held you tightly. your hands braced on her hips to guide the rhythm. her arms wound around your back, nails trailing across your skin.

you moved deeper, slow and deliberate, letting her absorb every inch. her breath caught each time you shifted. when she finally started moving; gentle hills of motion, your heart hammered.

— shit- don’t stop. — she murmured.

you slid out halfway then back in. — not stopping.

she cried out, pressing tight against you. the room echoed with soft sounds: skin, breath, low gasps.

you flicked your hand to her clit, grinding gently. she groaned as she rolled her eyes again. — fuck, i want to be loud.

— you want to make noise? — you asked, voice teasing, which she promptly denied.

— i want you to make them hear me. — she snapped.

you increased pace; push in, pull out, fingertips flicking her bud. her back arched, nails dragging down your chest. her cries grew louder. raw and unfiltered, just like her.

— you like that? — you asked, voice low and charged.

— yes! fuck, yes… — she choked out, body trembling. for you, and you only. and that was enough for tonight.

letting your intrusive thoughts win, you slapped her clit, hard enough to sting. she almost cried, it seemed. but the smile on the corner of her lips assured you that everything was fine.

— god, you’re such a tease. — you grunted, giving more.

she groaned, bucked, pushing harder. you rattled between control and abandon.

— fuck, yes… i’m so close. — she screamed, voice raw and shaky. — (y/n)…

you pressed your hand underneath her navel, feeling the bump of your own cock going in and out of her; the action making her body tremble almost instantly. — go ahead. cum for me again, megan.

her body spasmed, cry tearing through her throat as her pussy swallowed your member and her orgasm took over her entire body. you followed right after you rode her through it, making sure to cum on her stomach this time around. you both trembled, breath ragged, locking together in sweat and shadows.

you lay there tangled; skin slick, bodies still humming from everything. her leg draped over your hip like gravity hadn’t decided which of you to pull harder. the room smelled like sex and your shampoo. it was the kind of quiet that felt heavier than the silence that had settled between you, like neither of you knew what to do with the tenderness left behind.

megan stared at the ceiling like it was trying to tell her something she didn’t want to hear.

your fingers traced the dip of her spine, slow, careful. she didn’t flinch, but she didn’t lean in either. that was the thing you noticed about her; she let you close, just never close enough.

— you good? — you asked, voice soft.

— yeah. — a beat passed. — just… thinking.

you waited, but nothing else came. her hand curled against your chest like she didn’t even know it was doing that. you counted the seconds she stayed there. one, two, three. then she pulled away.

she sat up and swung her legs off the couch like she couldn’t get dressed fast enough.

your chest tightened. — you leaving?

she nodded, already reaching for her shirt, her pants.

— is this about what i said earlier? — you tried. — you don’t have to-

— it’s not. — her voice was clipped, but not cold. she yanked the shirt over her head, then paused, fingers trembling for half a second before she covered it by tying her hair up. — i just… i don’t do well with this.

— this?

— staying. the aftermath shit.

— you don’t have to stay here. but you don’t have to run from me, either. — you sat up.

— i’m not running. — she said it fast; too fast.

you didn’t call her out. you just looked at her. and she wouldn’t meet your eyes.

she zipped her jeans. grabbed her jacket. then she hesitated, thumb brushing the leather like it was trying to say something she couldn’t.

— megan… — you started, she shook her head.

— don’t. — softer now. — don’t ask me to stay. it’s easier if you don’t.

your throat tightened. — you think i’m gonna break if you leave?

— no. i think i am.

and there it was. the crack. the jagged edge behind the bravado, the flinch under the smirk.

— you’re not gonna break. — you half-whispered.

— i will. — she said it like a fact. — i’m good at sex. i’m good at pretending i’m not scared shitless of people. but i’m not good at… this. whatever “this” is.

you stepped forward, slow. not touching her yet.

— i’m not asking you to be good at anything. i’m just asking you not to disappear.

her laugh was dry. it cracked in the middle. — i’ve already disappeared, (y/n). that’s the only thing i’ve ever been good at.

your heart broke a little. you could see how much she wanted to stay. how much it scared her to even consider it. you reached for her hand, she let you take it.

— then just… text me tomorrow. or don’t. — you said, letting the words fall gently between you. — but don’t pretend this didn’t mean something. even if you don’t know what it meant yet.

she squeezed your hand, eyes burning like the sun through smoked glass.

— it did. that’s the fucking problem. — she said.

then she dropped your hand, turned and walked to the door. you didn’t follow. didn’t beg.

she looked back once, only once, her expression unreadable. then she stepped out into the hallway and let the door shut behind her. you stood there aching, watching the spot where she’d been like she might reappear if you stared hard enough.

she didn’t.

you sat back on the couch, the fabric still warm where her body had been. the smell of her lingered. so did the ghost of her fingers on your jaw, her voice in your ear.

this time, she’d left slower. softer. maybe that meant something, maybe not.

but you knew one thing for sure. you’d wait. just a little longer. just in case.

the sidewalk glinted under the streetlights like it had something to prove. megan walked with her jacket half-zipped, her work lingerie already on her body to spare her the change, hands shoved into the pockets, and eyes fixed forward. while lara trailed a step behind, absently thumbing at her ear, scowling like the missing earring owed her money.

— okay, this is not happening. — lara muttered, voice sharp like she could intimidate the universe into fixing her problems. — i swear i put them both in here.

megan glanced over her shoulder, uninterested. — the earring?

— yes, the earring. the hoop. the gold one that makes me look expensive and emotionally unavailable.

— well, one of those is accurate. — megan offered.

lara didn’t laugh. her fingers kept raking through lipsticks and receipts and an emergency knife. no second hoop.

— this is a crisis. i can’t show up asymmetrical. it’s bad luck, i’ll get haunted.

megan grabbed her lighter and pack of camel’s and lit her cigarette, inhaled deep like she needed the smoke to ground her. — maybe the ghost will steal your exes and save you the trouble.

— or maybe the ghost will remind me of my worst decision in the last six months. — lara snapped, louder than intended.

megan didn’t reply. just kept walking. the silence stretched between them, thin and electric.

lara clicked her tongue and broke it. — so. are you gonna talk about it or just keep vibrating with internalized panic until you spontaneously combust?

— about what?

— about the fact that you went over there. — lara said, quick and sharp. — that you saw them again. that nerd from friday with that tight lord of the whatever shirt and the haunted eyes.

megan exhaled. the smoke curled out of her mouth like a sigh she hadn’t earned. — it wasn’t supposed to be anything.

— and yet here you are. smoking like you’re in a noir film and brooding like it’s your full-time job.

megan stopped walking. traffic hummed in the distance, a car horn echoing from some other life. lara watched her for a second, then fell into step beside her. took a long drag of her cigarette in an attempt to smoke her feelings away.

— you know i’m not judging you, right? — she said, tone lighter now. — you feel things harder than most people. you just don’t know where to put it.

— says the girl who ghosted a woman because she offered to watch a movie with you. — megan quipped back, lips twitching despite herself.

lara grinned. — it was the way she said the word “we”. gave me hives.

they started walking again in silence for a few beats, boots hitting pavement in time with passing headlights. megan’s shoulders looked too high, like she hadn’t stopped bracing for impact since she left your apartment.

— you liked them. — lara said, voice soft.

megan didn’t reply.

— i mean, fuck, you like them. don’t even try to tell me it’s not still happening.

— i saw them twice. — megan muttered.

— you fucked them on a couch for hours today and then ran away like your life depended on it. — lara corrected. — that’s not “twice,” that’s a limited series.

megan’s hand twitched in her pocket.

— you don’t get it.

— no, you don’t get it. — lara shot back. — you’re out here trying to convince yourself you’re incapable of being loved just because you’re scared of what it feels like to stay.

megan flinched, but it was small. her lips parted like she might say something, but lara beat her to it.

— and before you go all “i’m a broken person, it’s safer this way.” — lara air quoted. — don’t. i’ve used that speech. it’s bullshit and it’s fear wearing lipstick.

they stopped at the corner. the velvet room’s neon glow flickered just up ahead, violet light bleeding into the cracks of the sidewalk like spilled ink. lara turned to her, finally still.

— i left manon’s because she smiled at me like we’d already made a memory. — she said plainly. — and i couldn’t handle it. i can’t handle it.

megan’s brows rose, barely, while lara looked away, scowled at the traffic like it offended her. — she’s… she’s loud. in color. not scared to want something soft. and i’m not wired like that. i break shit just for the noise it makes. you know that.

— so why are you telling me this?

lara looked at her, dead in the eyes.

— because i’m not gonna let you become damaged like me. you want them. and they want you. don’t fuck it up just because your fear’s louder than your hope.

megan looked down at her boots, then threw the rest her cigarette away. her hand stayed clenched around the edges of her jacket. silence pressed between them, heavy and crackling.

— you gonna text them? — megan didn’t answer. — what’s the worst thing that can happen? they don’t reply?

— no. — megan shook her head. — the worst that happens is they reply, and it means something. and then i have to figure out what the fuck to do with that.

lara nodded slowly, like she got it in her bones. then she pulled a stick of gum out of her jacket and shoved it into her mouth.

— feelings are messy. — she said, popping the gum. — but silence is worse.

they stood there for a minute, letting the streetlight hum over them like the city was waiting for a verdict.

megan’s phone burned a hole in her pocket. she could feel it. the small text thread. the way she would left things hanging like a half-finished poem. the way your hands had felt against her skin. careful. present. wanting her even when she didn’t know how to be wanted.

she pulled the phone out. unlocked the screen. the chat thread glowed, still open. no messages since that morning. megan stared down at the small message thread, thumb hovering, heart stupidly loud.

it had been hours.

the jacket text still sat there, ridiculous and sincere and somehow still soft in her chest. like a bruise she hadn’t meant to earn. she typed. deleted. typed again. then eventually, she hit send.

megan: just so you know, i didn’t hate today.

sent. no emoji. no follow-up. punctuation, even. like a breath she let out mid-sentence.

it wasn’t an invitation, but it wasn’t not one.

she locked her phone too quickly. like it might burn her.

lara clocked it instantly. didn’t say anything at first. just gave her that sidelong look; the one that meant megan was being obvious again.

— smooth. — lara muttered under her breath.

megan scoffed, pulling her jacket tighter around her ribs. — shut up.

her thumb grazed her phone screen like she didn’t mean to check it again, like she wasn’t hoping. like she hadn’t just handed someone else the thread to something sharp inside her chest and dared them to tug.

you hadn’t texted yet.

that was fine. she wasn’t waiting.

they reached the velvet room’s entrance. music thumped from behind the doors, muffled and wild. lara went to grab the key to her locker as she entered the club, hand brushing her bag, and stopped; something hit her once she put her hand back in her purse.

megan clocked it instantly. — what?

— i didn’t lose it. — she whispered.

megan raised an eyebrow. — and?

lara stared at the earring like it had just told her a secret she didn’t want to know.

— i left it there. — lara said, annoyed. — i wore them last time on friday and i went to manon’s that night. fuck.

the realization hit like a punch to the gut. and for the first time in a long time, lara looked terrified just for the idea of having to talk to manon again.

while that happened, right across the city, you were on your couch, the light from your phone glowed faintly in the dark.

you hadn’t moved in twenty minutes. hoodie still on. there was some random episode of the big bang theory in your tv but you refused to give it enough attention; like something might change if you stared at it long enough.

your phone buzzed. a soft, single sound.

you didn’t check it right away. you didn’t have to. fingers trembling slightly, you turned the screen over.

megan: just so you know, i didn’t hate today.

that was it. no joke. no wink. no plans.

but something about it made your stomach twist up with hope. you curled tighter into the couch, a flood of excitement coming through you, slightly. whatever this was; it was still happening.

so you texted back, quiet.

(y/n): i didn’t either.

then you locked your screen. exhaled slow. didn’t smile. not exactly. but your chest felt a little looser. your heart, a little steadier.

she’d texted first. and that had to mean something.

393 notes · View notes

chuellas · 5 months ago

Text

Initiation | I is for Intimacy

⤷ Ft. Nakahara Chuuya

V. A. L. E. N. T. I. N. E.

Warnings | Fem!Reader, N.SFW, 18+ only, use of the names “Doll” and “Baby”, physical and emotional intimacy, oral (Reader rec), fingering, unprotected sex, WC: 2.2k

A/N | This one is a lot tamer than the rest and once again I got wayyyyy too carried away but can you blame me? My baby deserves the world 😔

His hands tremble slightly as you both reach your apartment building’s entrance. The two of you have been dating for about 3 months now and Chuuya has held off on being physically intimate with you up until now. But he could tell your patience has been waning and tonight was your tipping point. You’ve been hinting to him all night that you want him to follow you up to your apartment. The extra touches that linger just a little longer than usual, the longing gaze at any part of him you find attractive, which apparently is every inch of him.

You fiddle with your fingers and keys, watching them before steeling yourself and inviting him. “Y’know, it’s still pretty early…Why don’t you come up? We could have a cup of tea or a glass of wine and watch a movie?”

Your eyes are filled with so much hope, how is Chuuya supposed to say no to that?

He doesn’t of course, as a matter of fact he’s quick to accept your offer and follows you anxiously to your apartment. The Port Mafia executive couldn’t figure out why he was so nervous. He’s slept with plenty of people before this. He’d even goes as far as to say he’s skilled in this subject, never having left a partner dissatisfied.

So why are you different?

Realistically Chuuya knows why but he doesn’t want to admit it to himself because if he does that then it means all of this is actually real. It would mean he cares for you far beyond anyone he’s cared for previously. So he’s avoided the subject with you altogether, letting himself stew in denial.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t also incredibly excited. It’s depraved, the amount of times Chuuya has fucked his hand to the thought of you, playing the little voice memos you like to send him every once in a while when you’re at work and typing takes too long. He always comes at the sound of your fluttery giggle, the sound casting a spell over his body every time without fail.

He wonders briefly, what the real thing will do to him when he’s nestled inside of you.

The ginger can feel himself getting worked up just at the thought of it. He needs to calm himself down. The two of you just got to your apartment. You let him into your home and he’s immediately greeted by a small cat that can’t be more than 6 months old. He’s never been too keen on cat’s but the little ball of fur takes to him immediately and you let out an incredulous laugh.

“She usually hides when I have company, you must be really good with animals.” You crouch down and hold your finger out for the kitten to sniff, just as expected she does so and rubs herself against your hand, clearly recognizing you as her owner. “This is Rika. She may not look it, but this little girl is feisty. She started out as a foster but I fell in love with her and couldn’t fathom the thought of life without her anymore. Sorry, I should have asked if you were allergic before bringing you up…”

Chuuya smiles fondly at you and the small creature, crouching down and mimicking your actions to gain the kitten's trust. “Nah, don’t worry, Doll. I’m not allergic, just- Never been the biggest fan of these guys. She’s cute though, just like her owner.”

You let out a groan and fall onto your butt, knees still bent, to make yourself comfortable on the floor. Rika starts at the movement but once she realizes that it was just you, she continues to headbutt Chuuya and even starts to purr. His attention is still on you despite the little furballs attempts to get him to pet her.

“That was so cheesy.” You’re covering your face with your hands and peek through them to look at Rika, then back up at the ginger. “...but, I suppose, she’s quite fond of you…just like her owner.”

Chuuya lets out a chuckle of his own because, yeah, that definitely sounded awfully cheesy now that he heard you say it. Yet, it still calmed his previous nerves. The Port Mafia executive stands up and offers his hands for help. You take them with an appreciative smile and he hoists you up. He’s aware that he used far too much force than he needed to but it’s entirely on purpose. You stumble into him and he’s ready to steady you, grip firmly set on your hips to hold you against him.

His lids droop down to look at you through his lashes and the air in your apartment thickens. Your lips part, Chuuya thinks you were going to say something, but he doesn’t give you time as he dips his head down and steals a kiss from you. Then another.

And another.

He continues to kiss you until you both find yourselves stumbling almost blindly into your room. You toe the door shut and start ridding Chuuya of his clothes with trembling hands. You’re nervous too, somehow that makes the ginger just a little more confident and he aids you in taking off his jacket and lifting his shirt over his head. He watches your reaction closely, the way your chest quickens with your breath, the way your pupils dilate in excitement, and most of all the way your face flushes in the prettiest way.

Chuuya is in trouble. Normally his interactions like this are only filled with desire and pleasure. Something only transactional or to itch a certain scratch. That’s it. But this is clearly different.

The ability user wants to take his time with you, wants you to feel good. He wants to touch and kiss every surface of your skin. Chuuya wants to mold your insides to only take him, to remember the shape of only his cock.

You're the most dangerous person Chuuya has ever encountered and you don’t even know it.

Chuuya makes good on his desires, slowly and carefully peeling your clothes away, making sure to kiss every bit of new skin being exposed. You aren’t as patient but you have no control over what he does right now. The ginger had a plan and you weren’t going to deter him from it.

When the executive gets you down to your underwear, he makes work of your bra first, expertly unclasping your bra with the snap of his fingers. You let out a pained whine, clearly enjoying just how easy it was for him to take off the usually tricky garment. He wastes no time in cupping your breasts in his now ungloved hands and kneading gently at the plush skin. His fingers run over your nipple and you let out a broken gasp.

A grin stretches at his lips, he can’t help it, pleased with the reactions he’s drawing out of you when he hasn’t even come close to touching you how he’d like to.

The ginger drags his hands down your abdomen at an agonizingly slow pace and you squirm impatiently in his hold. “Chuuya…Please, just- oh my god- just fuck me already.”

Your breath catches in your throat when Chuuya flips you around and has your back crashing into his chest and he dips his head to leave a trail of kisses down your neck.

“Gotta be patient f’me, Doll. I gotta make sure you’re ready to take me. Can’t have you uncomfortable, now, can we?” Your head falls onto his shoulder as you let out another whine.

You’re walked to the edge of your bed before you’re being flipped back around and pushed onto it, your legs hanging off the end. Chuuya kneels and pushes your legs together so he can guide them to one side of his head to slip your underwear off with ease. The ginger pries your legs apart once more and settles your legs on each of his shoulders.

When you’re finally fully exposed, slick cunt practically drooling for Chuuya, he lets out a groan. He has a physical reaction to the sight of you, his cock jumping in his very tight pants. If you would let him, he thinks he would be content with drowning in your pretty glistening cunt.

You reach for the ginger’s hair and let out another whine. “Chuuya…”

“Fuck, Baby. You been hiding this pretty little thing from me this entire time? A damn shame I’ve let this go to waste till now.” He doesn’t let you respond, diving right in and helping himself to your taste.

With expert precision Chuuya finds your clit with one swipe of his tongue up your folds. He’s quick to attach himself to the sensitive bud and starts sucking on you and then releasing, creating a delicious rhythm with his mouth. You grip at his hair with trembling fingers. It’s cute, really, how worked up you’re getting. The executive has a sneaking feeling you’ve never had someone who actually knows what they’re doing eat you out like this before.

As if you could read his mind you gasp out, “How- shit- how are you s-so good at that? It feels s’good…”

The ginger knows better than to deem that with an actual response, so instead he brings a hand up to your entrance and coats his middle finger in your slick before inserting it and immediately pumping it in and out of you. It happens fast. You pant out his name and twist your body as you try to almost crawl away from the pleasure building up in your stomach. Chuuya doesn’t let you, of course. He makes sure to bring you flying off the edge. You cum without warning and the sounds of Chuuya drinking you up bounces off the walls.

You twitch from the oversensitivity and subconsciously push at Chuuya's head. He gets the hint and pulls away. His face is a mess, lips, cheeks and chin glistening with your juices. What's worse is he licks it all off like a parched man, not satiated until he’s licked all of it off.

Chuuya finally pulls down his pants and climbs over you, dragging you up all the way onto the bed. He takes another moment to admire your lucid state. Body sheen with a small layer of sweat, hair splayed around you in a halo, chest flushed and heaving from your pants. You’re more beautiful than he could ever have tried to imagine. Whatever Chuuya had previously pictured, was put to shame tenfold with you here finally bare right in front of him.

He gingerly strokes some hair stuck to your face out of the way and lets his finger linger, traveling down the outline of your face. “Think you have one more in you, Doll?”

Chuuya doesn’t think he’s ever had to ask that question before. His usual partners are always selfish, having no problem asking for what they want. You on the other hand? You were far too soft, too kind to ever ask for more when this is your first time getting into bed with him.

Your eyes close momentarily and he watches your intently. Your eyelashes flutter as you lean into his hand that’s now cupping your face tenderly. When you open your eyes to look up at him through your lashes Chuuya swear he almost cums right then and there. How the hell is he supposed to survive the night with you when you look so stunning underneath him like this?

“Yeah. I want you, Chuuya.” You’re killing him—you really will be the death of him he swears, no dramatics, it’s simply factual.

He lets out a strained chuckle. “Okay, you got me, all of me.”

Chuuya leans closer into you and rests his forehead on yours before guiding his tip to your entrance. He swipes himself through your folds a few times, making sure he’s wet enough to slip into you easily before finally sinking into you. Your eyes screw shut and your arms fly to his back, desperately looking for something to slutch onto as he stretches you so deliciously. Your mouth drops open but no noise falls out.

Instead of letting himself get overwhelmed by how velvety and warm and inviting your walls are, Chuuya distracts himself by crashing his lips to your. You finally let out small whines and whimpers and while he’s running his tongue across your lips, asking for another entrance, you impatiently roll your hips. He lets out a surprised grunt but gets the hint and starts a slow but pointed pace.

Chuuya is used to having sex, he’s slept with countless people thanks to the nature of his job. It’s been seen as a skill for so long that he forgot that it could feel like this. This was something more than just a physical connection, it’s also emotional.

Chuuya thought he knew everything there was to know about sex, but he has a lot to learn about intimacy, and he doesn’t think he’d want to learn it from anyone else other than you.

#chuuya x reader #chuuya smut #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #chuuya x you #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x you #chuuya x fem!reader #bsd x fem!reader #bungo stray dogs x fem!reader #bsd chuuya #writings ʚїɞ

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adelliet · 3 months ago

Text

Joel Miller x f!reader

NO BOUNDARIES

Summary: Your dad’s friend, Joel Miller, stayed over at your house every friday. Over time, your affection for him grew into something deeper, something dangerous. One fateful night, and you both break the boundaries.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, age gap, strong language, flirting, mention of masturbation, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), contraceptive use, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (p i v), after care (ofc)

A/N: Hey there! So, this is once again ridiculously long, sorry, I always get carried away. But I just want to thank you so much for all the activity and support! I really appreciate it! If you have any ideas, suggestions, or anything else, feel free to text me. Also, I apologize for any grammar mistakes or phrases that might not make sense—English isn’t my first language :3 But I hope you enjoy the story, I personally absolutely LOVE it! Enjoy! <3

Masterlist

It’s another Friday night, which means another one of Joel’s sleepovers at your house. You can’t even remember when his visits became a tradition. It was so long ago that even your dad doesn’t really know how the two of them met. He always tells the story differently, but one thing remains the same, they’re inseparable.

Honestly, you’d even call them soulmates. They can talk for hours, without ever getting tired of each other. Sometimes, they even remind you of teenage girls. But it’s nice. Nice to see your dad this happy. And nice to see Joel so often, right here, in your home.

Just like you can’t remember when Joel first became a part of your life, you can’t pinpoint the moment he carved himself into your mind. Every time you saw him, he settled deeper and deeper into your head, until he was right where he is now, completely inescapable.

You’re a mess for him. The mere sight of him makes your legs weak, your nipples hard, and your mouth flood with anticipation. Your heart races, your pulse quickens, and it feels as if everything around you slows down. The only thing your focus clings to is him.

It’s like some sort of spell, as if every time you sense his presence, your core begins to throb with need. And you, pathetically, have to escape him, running away to calm your body, though it feels pitifully hopeless.

Even though you hide upstairs in your room, in your comfort, the heat in your veins, the tingling between your legs, and your quickened breath remain relentless. You always have to take care of it, of yourself.

It’s truly remarkable, how ever since your thoughts began to wander to Joel, whenever your hands found their way between your thighs, you’ve climaxed within seconds. Never before have you come so fast, but then you think about those massive hands of his, wrapped around a coffee mug, his fingers nearly swallowing it whole. The rough hair and bulging veins on his arms, so effortlessly attractive. And it’s not just his hands.

His salt and pepper beard, looking so coarse and scratchy, tempting you to imagine how it might feel against your skin. His soft, silky hair, always swaying so easily in the breeze, as if the wind itself adored him. And those eyes. God, those goddamn eyes. Enchanting, mesmerizing, capable of pulling you in like a deep, endless well.

His neck, thick, strong, the way he rubs it absentmindedly when he scratches the back of his head. The unintentional glimpse of his chest when his shirt shifts, revealing just a hint of those dark curls beneath.

Joel makes you feel things you’ve never felt before. It’s nearly impossible to define, to understand what the hell is even happening to you. Are you in love? Or is it just obsession? A stupid crush? Or is it simply, pure, unfiltered desire?

You don’t know exactly what it is. The only thing you’re absolutely certain of is that your panties dampen every single time your eyes land on him. It’s as if he’s some sort of god of arousal. A living, breathing definition of attraction. And for you, he absolutely is.

Still, here you are in your room, breathless from the “activity” that barely managed to soothe the throbbing ache between your legs. Because today, Joel looks even more devastatingly good than he did last week.

You were utterly exhausted, sweat still clinging to your forehead and soaking into the pillow beneath you. Your fingers trembled, your legs shook, and your chest heaved unevenly. You had to close your eyes because the room felt like it was spinning. It didn’t take long before you fell asleep like a baby.

Eventually, though, an unrelenting hunger stirred you awake. You had no desire to get up, honestly, you’d rather stay buried beneath your blanket, dreaming up filthy, romantic fantasies about Joel. But the hunger grew stronger each second, and your body made it very clear with the impatient grumbling of your stomach.

Annoyed, you let out a groan, rubbing your eyes with your thumb and forefinger before slowly, sluggishly, pushing yourself up. Your body felt heavy, and you stumbled to the door, barely able to find the handle in your drowsy haze. As you made your way down the stairs, you yawned widely, your eyes still adjusting to the dim light, and you nearly tripped a few times.

When you reached the bottom, a faint glow from the kitchen caught your eye. It surprised you, but your half-asleep brain didn’t have the energy to question it deeply. You simply trudged forward, too hungry and too tired to care who or what might be waiting for you in the kitchen.

You rounded the corner and suddenly froze in place. There was Joel, leaning against the table with a glass of water in his hand, facing you. For a moment, you thought it was a dream. It really felt like a dream until he greeted you softly.

In an instant, a rush of adrenaline surged through your veins, and the word exhaustion was wiped from your mind. You swallowed an imaginary lump in your throat, a bit too loudly, and offered Joel a shy, quiet, “Hey.” You didn’t want to keep staring at him like some kind of creep, but damn, he looked so fucking good.

His hair was tousled, a little messy, giving him that irresistible, just-woke-up look. He wore a loose t-shirt that gently hugged his godlike body, and those gray sweatpants that had you fighting desperately not to stare. His salt-and-pepper beard looked both sharp and somehow soft to the touch. The warm kitchen light glowed softly against his stormy gray eyes, like clouds right before a heavy rain.

Oh god, your knees felt weak, and that familiar throbbing between your legs grew more intense. Your thighs clenched instinctively, desperate to ease the pulsing ache. It was humiliating how easily he did this to you, how little it took for your body to react like this. Just one look, one sleepy, half-lidded gaze from him, and you felt like you could melt into the floor.

Your whole body burned from the inside out, a heat so fierce it almost ached. It was like every nerve ending had woken up, set on fire just from seeing him like this, so effortlessly rugged, so devastatingly handsome, standing in your kitchen in the middle of the night. Your chest tightened with a mix of excitement and nerves.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low and rough, rasping with a hint of sleep still clinging to it. His lips curved into a small, lazy smirk.

“Hmm…” you hummed softly, your voice barely audible. Forming a coherent sentence felt impossible when every fiber of your being was focused on not falling apart under his gaze. You fought against yourself, desperate not to make a fool of yourself, not to seem like some desperate, pathetic whore, aching for his attention.

“I’m hungry,” you finally managed, your voice a little steadier as you offered him a shy, almost innocent look. Joel chuckled, shaking his head with a smirk that made your stomach twist.

“Eating this late ain’t healthy,” he teased, lifting his glass to his lips. His eyes stayed on yours, unwavering, intense, like he could see right through you.

“Maybe not,” you shot back, finding a fragment of confidence amidst the storm raging inside you.

“But this rumbling stomach isn’t gonna quiet down on its own.” You tried to keep it playful, lighthearted, but your body betrayed you.

The throbbing ache between your thighs was relentless, an unyielding pulse that made your breath hitch, your core clench helplessly. You could feel the slickness growing, soaking through the thin fabric of your pajama shorts. A humiliatingly obvious sign of just how badly you wanted him. It took everything in you to keep your face composed, to not let him see how shamelessly desperate you were for him.

“You’re right,” he nodded, his calming smile still gracing his wrinkled face. As your confidence steadily returned, the heat within you grew stronger with each word that left Joel’s mouth, control over your own actions was slipping away, bit by bit. Maybe that’s why this idea even crossed your mind.

Across from Joel, there was a kitchen island. A centerpiece your dad mainly kept for decoration, though it was occasionally used for snacking. A mischievous smirk spread across your face as you gracefully walked past Joel, positioning yourself right in front of him. Then, you bent over, leaning onto the counter as you reached for the bowl of fruit.

You knew exactly what you were doing. The thin, loose fabric of your pajama shorts shifted as you bent over, and with no underwear underneath, there was nothing to shield the view. The cool air brushed against your bare skin, a stark contrast to the burning heat radiating from your core. You knew exactly what you were exposing, and Joel noticed too, almost immediately.

Almost the second you bent down, you heard a sudden spluttering noise, followed by Joel’s deep, raspy voice choking and coughing. You turned around to see him setting his glass down on the counter, his fist pressed against his mouth, eyes squeezed shut, and his face flushed a deep red.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice so innocently sweet it only added to his torment. Joel nodded, but he was still coughing, clearly struggling to regain his composure.

After finally catching his breath, Joel inhaled deeply, his gaze fixed firmly on the ground. The redness on his face lingered, a shade too obvious to ignore, and his fingers nervously tapped against the counter, a silent attempt to steady himself.

With a raised eyebrow and a teasing smirk, you watched him. “You sure you’re okay?” you asked softly, a hint of mischief in your voice. Joel nodded, his eyes slowly lifting to meet yours.

You knew exactly what hid behind those eyes of his. He had seen you, bare and exposed, exactly as you’d planned. The way his composure shattered so easily because of you made your core clench desperately around nothing, the ache between your legs intensifying.

For a moment, an awkward silence settled between you, both of you standing there, tangled in the aftermath of what just happened. Joel cleared his throat one last time, his fingers nervously brushing over his beard.

“Just… swallowed wrong,” he muttered, a lame attempt to explain away his reaction. But you both knew the truth. There was no way to hide the way his gaze had lingered, no way to ignore the way his breath had hitched. You gave a slow, hesitant nod, your eyes briefly sweeping over his figure before settling back on his flushed face.

“And you couldn't sleep ’cause you were thirsty?” you teased, nodding to the glass of water on the counter, changing the subject Joel glanced back at the glass and let out a breathy laugh, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Something like that…” he mumbled, shifting his weight. You nodded again, the tension still hanging heavy between you, pulsing in your chest and lower, so much lower.

“Had a nightmare,” he added quietly, the way his shoulders sagged, the frustration lining his face, it struck something inside you. You knew about his nightmares. You’d heard whispers of him and your dad talking about them over beers on the porch and during late-night movies, about the things that haunted him.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered gently, and Joel shook his head, offering a faint, tired smile.

“It’s alright. I’m used to it,” he replied softly, pointing towards the empty glass. “Water helped a little.”

As you stood there with Joel, your heart pounding and your pulse thrumming in your ears, a reckless thought crept into your mind. What if you could help him sleep in a completely different way?

The idea of his strong, calloused hands gripping your hips, his body pressing against yours, tangled sheets and muffled gasps. It all hit you so suddenly and so vividly that a shiver ran down your spine. You couldn’t believe where your mind had wandered, but the thought alone made your knees weak, your body burning with a desire you could barely contain.

You could feel the heat still burning under your skin, every part of you hyper-aware of the man standing just feet away. The way he tried to steady himself, the lingering flush on his face. It thrilled you.

“Don’t you want some sleeping pills?” you asked, finally piecing yourself together enough to speak, your brows furrowing in a guilty, concerned expression. Joel scoffed softly, shaking his head just a bit.

“Nah, but thanks,” he muttered, lifting a hand. His voice was rough and gravelly, that deep, rasping tone that always sounded like it was dragging over rocks. It seeped under your skin, settled low in your belly, igniting that familiar heat that made your thighs press together involuntarily.

“Okay,” you whispered, so quietly that Joel barely heard you. You shifted away from the kitchen island, your heart still thundering as you moved toward the fridge. You could feel his eyes on you, following every step, every sway of your hips, like he needed to keep you in check, or maybe like he couldn’t help himself.

When you opened the fridge, the cool air brushed over your flushed face, but it barely helped to cool the warmth spreading through your body. Your eyes lit up as you spotted the leftover pie you’d baked with your dad yesterday. The light from the fridge illuminated your face, highlighting the curve of your cheekbones, the arch of your brows, the slope of your nose. It was almost unfair how exposed you felt under his gaze.

Joel caught himself staring, eyes dragging slowly from your face to the curve of your neck before snapping away, his hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Wanna try some?” you asked, pulling the pie from the fridge and turning to face him. Your voice was casual, but your pulse was anything but. There was a tightness in your chest, a dizzying need that made your mind wander to dangerous places. Places where that gruff, rumbling voice of his was in your ear, muttering things that had no place in the dim kitchen.

Joel let out a low, disapproving grumble and shook his head.

“Oh, come on,” you set the pie on the counter, your eyes glimmering with mischief. “Just a small bite.” You tried to coax him, but Joel remained firm. Still, you weren’t about to give up that easily.

You slipped a finger into the pie, scooping up a bit of the filling. Keeping your eyes locked on his, you slowly brought your finger to your mouth, your tongue sliding over it as you tasted the sweetness. A pleased hum left your lips, your eyes fluttering closed for a second as you savored the flavor.

“It’s delicious! C’mon,” you teased, voice laced with playfulness.

For a moment, Joel just stared, a muscle in his jaw flexing as his eyes followed the trail of your tongue. You saw the hesitation, the way his eyes flicked from your mouth to the pie and back, the internal battle playing out behind those stormy eyes.

Finally, the resistance broke. He let out a resigned breath, a hint of a smirk on his lips, and stepped forward, his movements slow and deliberate.

Pushing off the edge of the counter, leaning in closer. Your pulse quickened, the air between you charged and heavy. You wondered if he could hear your heart beating or if his rough breaths were enough to drown it out.

You arched a brow, the silent challenge daring Joel not to hesitate. With a small, reluctant grunt, he finally reached out and dipped his finger into the pie, his expression skeptical.

“Don’t you want a spoon?” he muttered, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“My finger works just fine,” you replied, voice dripping with mischief. Maintaining eye contact, you slowly licked the remnants of pie from your finger, your tongue curling around it until there was nothing left. As you pulled your finger from your mouth, a playful, almost obscene pop echoed in the quiet kitchen.

Joel’s chest rose as he took a deep breath, his jaw tight, his gaze sharp and unreadable. You could practically see the internal conflict flickering in his eyes, questioning what he was doing, why he was still here, if he should just leave.

God, you hoped he wouldn’t leave.

Eventually, Joel gave in and tasted the cake from his finger, just like you had. It was genuinely delicious, and he let out a pleased murmur that sent a wave of heat crashing through your body. Your stomach twisted, your skin flushed hot, and the throbbing between your legs became almost unbearable, making it hard to stay still.

“It’s really good,” he muttered through a mouthful, his voice gruff and warm. “Did you make this?” he raised an eyebrow, dipping his finger for another taste. You nodded silently, watching his lips wrap around his finger again.

“It’s really good. You’re talented,” he praised, and those words etched themselves into your mind like a mark on stone.

You’re talented. Paired with his voice, his face, his eyes, everything about him was overwhelming. You fought every urge to not throw yourself at him right there, praying your wetness wouldn’t betray you, wouldn’t drip down your thighs.

Your cake was truly delicious. Neither of you could get enough of it, your fingers diving into the treat one after another, savoring each sweet bite. The atmosphere had settled, and the two of you were sharing stories, funny little moments and memories. It was nice, comfortable. Until the conversation faded and the only sounds left were your pleased hums and the soft, sticky licks of fingers.

Then, an idea, a ridiculous, childish idea, popped into your head. Before you could reconsider, you swiped your finger through the pie and, with a swift motion, smeared it right onto the tip of Joel’s nose. You hit dead center.

Joel froze, his eyes widening in surprise as your laughter filled the room. You quickly licked the rest of the cake off your finger, smirking playfully.

He took a breath, disbelief etched into his expression, and without a second thought, dipped his own finger into the pie and swiped it across your small, cute nose.

You gasped dramatically, your eyes wide, while Joel grinned like a mischievous kid.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be?” you teased, dragging your finger through the pie again, before smearing a sweet line across his scruffy beard.

A war had begun.

You both kept digging your fingers into the mess of what used to be a pie, smearing each other playfully without caring about the sticky disaster in front of you. Laughter mixed with lingering glances filled the kitchen, and your game became a careful balance of teasing touches and unspoken tension.

Despite your playful antics, you both managed to keep the mess mostly contained to your fingers, avoiding a complete disaster in the kitchen. Every swipe of his finger against your skin and every dab of frosting you left on him carried a weight that neither of you fully acknowledged, yet it was undeniably there.

When Joel reached out, swiping his finger through the ruined cake and aiming to smear more of it on you, his touch accidentally brushed against your lips. His finger paused there, resting softly on your mouth, and everything around you seemed to halt.

The air hung thick, the room drenched in a heavy, charged silence. Joel’s gaze locked onto yours. A mix of surprise, uncertainty, and something deeper that you couldn’t ignore.

His expression was torn, a fragile balance between the stone-cold restraint he always carried and the sudden, forbidden realization of what he’d just done. It was as if, in that brief moment, he saw the boundary he was crossing.

The fact that you were his best friend’s daughter, someone he had no right to look at that way. For a moment, you just stared at each other, both holding your breath, eyes full of anticipation.

Your eyes flicked from his gaze to his hand and back, a silent reminder that his finger was still on your lips, though the last thing you wanted was for him to pull away. You wanted him to grab you, to feel his lips on yours, to shatter the thin line of restraint between you.

Joel’s hand began to retreat slowly, hesitantly, as if he was battling himself over what was right and what he truly wanted. But he didn’t manage to pull away in time. Without a second thought, you wrapped your lips around his finger, warm and intentional.

Your eyes locked, your lips wrapping tightly around his finger, the motion slow, teasing, like you were savoring every inch of him.

The warm, wet feeling of your mouth sent a shiver through him, but your gaze remained innocent, wide and soft, a stark contrast to the fire building inside you. Despite the calm exterior, your mind was a whirlwind of forbidden thoughts, each one darker and more daring than the last, and you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you let yourself act on them

Your tongue swirling around his long thick finger, devouring the last bits of the pie. Joel was like a rock, motionless, his eyes fixed on you. He breathed through his nose, loudly, like a bear. His nostrils flared, his chest rising and falling more rapidly and all of his blood rushed to his cock.

You loved the way Joel looked right now. The thought that it was you, the reason he was struggling so hard, fighting every instinct to resist those seductive, pleading eyes of yours.

Joel’s breath caught sharply as you finally released his finger from your mouth, the slow, deliberate motion sending a jolt of electricity through the air. You lingered for a moment longer, your lips curling into a provocative smile as you slowly licked them, your eyes never leaving his.

Something primal stirred in him, like he was trying to steady himself. He exhaled deeply, avoiding eye contact.

“It’s late… I’m going to bed,” he muttered, his voice rough and laced with barely-contained desire, his gaze dropping to the floor as if it was the only thing keeping him from losing control. Without another word, he turned and walked away, each step heavy with unspoken tension.

“Wait!” you called out, your voice unsteady.

Your heart hammered against your ribs, not from excitement, but from a desperate fear that he might actually leave you like this. Here and now, with your knees weak and trembling, an unrelenting pulse throbbing between your legs, your breath uneven, your nipples hard and your mouth full of saliva. He couldn’t just walk away, not when you were this vulnerable, this exposed.

He stopped, his back still turned to you, shoulders taut and unmoving. It felt like he was waiting.

Waiting for the excuse you’d give him to stay, a reason not to walk away. His head tilted slightly to the side, just enough for you to glimpse the sharp line of his jaw, covered in a rugged, silver-brown beard that caught the light perfectly.

“Please don’t go…” Your voice was shaky, quiet, almost pleading. It might have sounded desperate, but you didn’t care.

Joel inhaled deeply, his eyes closing as he tipped his head back, facing the ceiling as if searching for strength. His jaw clenched tightly as you stood completely still, heart pounding, every nerve in your body screaming with anticipation.

Slowly, achingly slowly, he turned to face you. His brows were furrowed, his eyes dark and wild, like a predator barely holding back. They burned with a hunger that made the air feel thick and heavy, stiflingly hot. When his gaze locked with yours, it felt like a challenge, a dare that made your breath catch

“You should go to bed too,” he rumbled, his voice a low, gravelly growl that seemed to scrape up from the depths of his chest. It was rough yet steady, carrying a weight that could silence a room.

There was a primal quality to it, like the warning growl of a wolf, restrained but undeniably powerful, a sound that demanded attention. It was the kind of voice that sent a shiver down your spine, commanding and untamed, yet tempered by a layer of reluctant restraint.

“I don’t want to…” you whispered carefully, testing the waters as you stepped closer, slow and deliberate, your eyes never leaving Joel’s face.

His fingers curled into a fist, knuckles whitening from the tension coiled beneath his skin. He lifted his chin slightly, his gaze sharp, assessing, dominant and firm, analyzing each measured step you took toward him.

When you were close, impossibly close, you paused, biting your lip as you looked up at him, a silent confession in your eyes. You didn’t need to say what you wanted; it was already written all over your face.

He scoffed, a dry, incredulous sound as he looked away, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what was happening. But when your fingers brushed against his shirt, hesitant yet intentional, his entire body seemed to tense.

Your palm pressed fully against his chest, feeling the steady, heavy beat beneath, strong and unyielding. His gaze snapped back to you, intense, zeroing in on your hand as if it burned.

You expected him to pull away, to reject you, or to yell at you to stop, to tell you that this was wrong, to push you away with force and distance himself as far as possible. But none of that came.

Instead, he stood there, frozen for a moment, his eyes locked on your hand resting on his chest. His breath caught in his throat as you felt the warmth of his skin through the fabric.

He bit the inside of his mouth, fighting to keep his composure, to control whatever he was feeling. His muscles tensed slightly under your touch, as if he were trying to decide whether to stop you or give in. But he did neither. Time seemed to freeze as the air around you became charged, the silence stretching longer than it should have.

Your eyes dropped down to where your hand rested. You could feel his heartbeat beneath your palm, pounding rapidly, almost erratically. The rhythm was fast, uneven, and at moments, you couldn’t help but worry that it was too fast, almost as if it might be too much for him to handle.

Heat flooded through your lower belly, your body taking control. Slowly, your hand moved downward, grazing the soft fabric of his shirt, your fingers brushing lightly over the outline of his abs, hidden beneath the material that you desperately wanted to pull away.

Your gaze followed the movement of your hand, and in that moment, your breath caught, noticing the shiver that ran through Joel as goosebumps spread across his skin.

The lower your hand moved, the more you felt the heat rising in your body. Your breathing quickened, each shallow inhale matching the rapid beat of your heart as your hand ventured lower.

Joel didn't do anything.

Then, your hand stopped at the waistband of his sweatpants, but before your could do anything else, Joel's hand briskly grapped your wrist, giving you a warning look. Your heart skipped a beat, your eyes innocent as you suck your lips into a thin miserable line.

“This is inappropriate,” Joel’s voice was suddenly different. So were his eyes. They were hungry and dark, you could barely read what was hidden behind them.

“But is it what you want?” Your soft voice made Joel’s hand twitch, his jaw clenching, already preparing for what was coming.

“Your dad is going to kill me,” his voice wasn’t as harsh, as rejecting anymore. You could tell he was backing down, that he no longer wanted to resist.

“I know,” you immediately spoke those words without thinking, your mind already elsewhere, ready to jump at him.

“We’re going to be in trouble-”

“I know,” you stepped closer to him, even though it had seemed impossible. His grip on your wrist was tight, definitely leaving a bruise, but you barely noticed the pain as the air around you thickened with an almost palpable tension.

The space between you two crackled with unspoken desire, like static in the air, the kind that buzzes just before a storm breaks. Everything felt heavier, the silence thick enough to suffocate, yet somehow it was intoxicating, drawing you closer.

Joel glanced around, his gaze sharp, scanning the area, making sure no one would interrupt, see, or stop what was unfolding. His attention to detail made the moment feel even more intense, as though nothing existed outside of this bubble you were trapped in, where the only thing that mattered was the space you shared, the heat, the tension.

And without another word, he cupped your cheeks and crushed his lips into yours. It was like an explosion. There was no softness, no gentleness. Just raw, hungry need.

His grip tightened on you, pulling you closer as his mouth slammed against yours, urgent and demanding, as if he couldn’t wait another second. The kiss wasn’t slow, wasn’t tender, it was messy. His teeth grazed your lower lip, almost bruising, but you didn’t care. It only made the fire between your legs burn hotter.

You could feel his breathing coming in sharp, ragged pulls, like he was trying to taste every inch of you. His hands roamed over your body, grabbing, pulling, the pressure hard, relentless, like he wanted to own every inch of your skin.

As his hands slid over your body, exploring every inch of your skin, as if he needed to memorize you, to imprint every curve and line of your body into his mind to never forget, he forced you to back up.

The force was overwhelming, and when your back collided with the cold surface of a fridge, it hit with such intensity that both of you gasped, breath stolen by the shock of the sudden impact. His massive frame pressing you against the fridge, forming an unyielding barrier you couldn’t escape.

There was no hesitation anymore, no doubt. Just an intense hunger, a need so fierce it was almost suffocating. You could taste the urgency in the kiss, the way he kissed you like he was trying to consume you, literally pull you inside him.

“You have no fucking idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he groaned into your ear, his teeth sinking into your neck, biting and sucking, leaving you breathless.

Your fingers instinctively tangled in his dark curls, tugging when he hit that sweet, sensitive spot. His hands were all over you, as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch, leaving no part of you untouched. He wasn’t modest, he wanted all of you.

His bear-like groan rumbled against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. One of his hands found your ass, squeezing it firmly, making you squeak and rise up on your tiptoes.

“You like that, don’t you?” You could feel his cocky smile brushing against the other side of your neck, making you gasp. Your fingers found the fabric of Joel’s shirt, tugging it, pulling him closer. That answer was more than enough for Joel.

He grabbed your hips, pulling your body flush against his. You moaned as his lips found yours again, feeling the hardness of him pressing against your thigh.

God, you wanted him.

Every inch of your body was on fire, your dream unfolding before you, and you could barely believe it. Here you were, kissing Joel Miller, the man you had been obsessed with for months.

Your moans, growls, and desperate whimpers melded together, swallowed by the intensity of the kiss. Your tongues collided, moving together in a fevered rhythm, as your bodies instinctively pressed closer, synchronizing with every shift and pull. You craved the warmth of his skin against yours, the steady thrum of his heartbeat, and the overwhelming sensation of being consumed by him. You needed him, in every way, feeling the undeniable pull that made it impossible to stop.

Joel felt it just as strongly, but he was always good at keeping it buried beneath the surface. He’d learned to hide his desire, to mask the intensity, never allowing his emotions to show. But now… now things had changed.

With you so close, with every breath shared between you, his control started slipping away. He could feel the heat of your body against his, the growing tension, and it was all becoming too much for him to contain. His movements, his breaths, everything began to reveal just how far gone he really was. How much he needed you.

His hand subtly slid to your thigh, moving higher until, with a slight shift, he managed to slip under your pajama shorts.

Your breath caught in your throat as the warmth of his fingers pressed against your inner thigh. His grin and the soft scoff that escaped his lips made your core pulse even harder.

Finally, his finger brushed against your wet folds, but he paused, pulling away from the kiss to take a long look at you.

“Already that wet, huh?” His finger rubbed agonizingly slow over the surface of your wet folds, his skin absorbing your moisture. Even though it was just the lightest, almost nonexistent touch, you felt it more than you should.

Your body reacted instinctively, throwing your head back, closing your eyes as your hips moved against Joel’s hand, desperately seeking more friction, more contact.

He savored the way your body trembled, the way your face contorted with need, and how your small hands desperately gripped anything they could find, clinging to something, anything, to hold on. You needed this. You needed him. And he knew it.

His finger finally burried into your folds, making your jaw fall open and gasp really loudly. Joel quickly covered your mouth by his free hand, throwing a warning look.

“We don’t want to wake your daddy up now, do we?” His voice was raspy, dark and deep. His finger working on you, curling inside you and stretching you out. You let out a soft sigh into Joel’s palm, your breath shaky as your eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open.

“Look at you? Such a good girl,” His words made you melt into his touch. His finger increasing the pace and strength, dugging in as deeply as he could. Your senses beginning to blur. The pleasure, slow at first, built with an intensity that made your chest rise and fall in shallow breaths.

“Yeah, that's it” he found your swallow clit with his thumb, making slow firm circles, showering you with waves of pleasure. The feeling of ecstasy was creeping in, washing over you like a tide, and you could feel your body betraying you, helplessly surrendering to the overwhelming sensations.

Your knees trembled slightly, barely holding your weight as Joel’s finger stretched you, his fingertip brushing against your walls, making you whine against his sweaty palm. He was relentless, maintaining a steady, determined rhythm while his thumb teased your sensitive clitoris in slow, deliberate circles.

Each calculated motion sent jolts of electricity through your veins, leaving you breathless and desperate for more. The contrast between his unyielding pace and the gentle, teasing caress made your mind foggy, your senses overwhelmed. Every brush, every press felt like it was designed to drive you closer to the edge, your vision blurring as if stars were bursting behind your eyelids.

His gaze never left your face, watching, studying every gasp, every twitch, the way your body responded to him. It was intoxicating, the way he seemed to know exactly what you needed without a word exchanged. Your mind struggled to hold onto a single coherent thought, lost between the need for release and the unbearable, delicious torture of his touch

You completely lost yourself when he added another finger. Your legs shaking as if they couldn’t support you any longer. Every breath was an attempt to regain control, but the control was long gone. Your mind was clouded, thoughts scattered, and all you could do was grasp at his messy, soft hair, needing something to ground you.

“That's my good girl,” he whimpers, His voice was strained, broken into ragged breaths as he struggled through gritted teeth not to cum in his pants.

Something about you made him weak, unleashing the absolute monster inside him. The way beads of sweat slid down your face, the tears welling in your eyes, your fingers tangled in his hair as he still covered your mouth, controlling your every sound. You were close. He knew it.

Your core clenching around his wet fingers, covered by your juice. You gasp his name into his strong hand, finding his nape, gripping it roughly with your hands.

You swear under your breath, feeling the orgasm getting closer, only if Joel keeps going. And he does, harder, faster, relentless. His cocky smile never leaves his face, a silent promise that he’s fully aware of what he’s doing to you.

You let out a muffled groan, your voice breaking through the barrier of his palm, and threw your head back aggressively. You hit the fridge, but that was the last thing on your mind. You were tiptoeing on the spot, desperately trying to lift yourself higher, but it was impossible.

A few more tender curls of Joel’s fingers, and you felt it, an intense wave building deep inside you, ready to crash. That tingling between your thighs rippled through your entire body, making your skin prickle and your breath hitch. Your pulse raced dangerously high, pounding in your chest, echoing in your ears until it was the only sound you could hear.

Your muscles clenched tightly around him, a desperate, involuntary response that made your legs tremble. Every nerve was on fire and for a moment, the world seemed to blur and tilt, leaving only you and him, tangled in that intoxicating tension.

Your ears rang, your breath caught in your throat, and your fingers pulled tightly at Joel’s graying curls, finally reaching your orgasm. Even though you had reached your peak, he didn’t stop. His pace remained relentless, determined to draw out every last tremor from your body. The overstimulation was almost unbearable, your mind a hazy mess of pleasure and sensitivity, yet a part of you craved every second of it.

Your breath was ragged, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggled to regain control, but Joel didn’t grant you that mercy.

“You look so beautiful,” he groaned, his own breath uneven, strained by the effort of holding back his own arousal, forcing himself to focus solely on you. His voice was thick, rough, betraying just how much restraint it took not to lose himself in the heat of the moment.

Then, carefully, slowly, when he saw that it was getting too much for you to handle, he pulled his fingers out. You let out a small whine as the emptiness and cool fresh air hit your bare, swollen core. The absence of his touch left a lingering ache, a pulsing reminder of how intensely he had pushed you to your limit.

Your legs felt weak, keep trembling slightly, and your breath was still unsteady. Joel’s eyes roamed over you, taking in every detail. The flush on your cheeks, the dazed look in your eyes, the way your body still shivered under his gaze.

His hand finally left your mouth, slick with your saliva. Joel took advantage of the moment when his hands were free, and without warning, he grabbed your ass, giving it a firm, rough squeeze before lifting you up as if you weighed nothing. You squeaked in surprise, a giggle escaping your lips as you wrapped your legs around his waist, holding onto him tightly.

The erection in his sweatpants poking you right between your legs, making your wet core pulse even faster. He looked at you with a smile, passion, and desire. He needed you, you had no idea how much he needed you.

Joel turned with you in his arms, pressing your back against the kitchen island. The same place where, just moments ago, you'd been teasing him with poking your ass right into his face. Carefully, he set you down, his hands lingering on your hips for just a second longer than necessary. The cold surface beneath you sent a shiver straight up your spine, a stark contrast to the burning heat in your lower belly.

For a moment, he simply stood there, watching you, taking you in. His chest rose and fell with deep, steady breaths, but his eyes were dark, intense, filled with something raw. Then, without any warning, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it over his head in one swift motion.

Your gaze dropped instinctively, taking in the way the dim light cast soft shadows over his broad chest. A dusting of dark, slightly curled hair covered his chest, thickest at the center and tapering as it traveled down the firm ridges of his abdomen.

His muscles weren’t chiseled in a way that came from gym workouts, they were real, earned through years of carrying, lifting, surviving. His shoulders were wide, strong, built to bear weight, and his arms, corded with muscle, held the kind of strength that could be both dangerous and protective.

His stomach wasn’t perfectly sculpted, but it was firm, defined, his obliques leading down to that sharp v-line disappearing beneath the waistband of his sweatpants. The faintest sheen of sweat clung to his skin, catching the light, making every ridge and hollow of his body stand out even more.

Joel was all rough edges and raw power, a man who had lived, fought, and enduredand, and right now, every bit of him was focused on you.

When your eyes finally drank him in, trailing up his body, they landed on his smug, charismatic face. The one that sent a jolt of pure, electric desire coursing through you, your core dripping wet yet again, pulsating and clenching around nothing.

“Like what you see?” he murmured, his voice rough as he stepped closer, slow but deliberate, the heat of him pressing in, forcing your back to meet the cool surface of the counter.

Your breath hitched. You could feel the weight of his stare, dragging over your face, your parted lips, the rise and fall of your chest. He wasn’t just looking at you, he was consuming you, unraveling you, making you feel exposed and wanted all at once.

Before you could even process it, his lips were on your bruised, tender neck, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine. His grip on the other side of your throat was firm but not forceful, just enough to hold you there, to let you feel his presence completely.

His other hand pressed into your hip, grounding you, keeping you from writhing too much beneath his touch. But it was impossible to stay still. The sensation of his mouth against your sensitive skin. The slow, deliberate way he worked his lips and teeth over you, had your body reacting on its own, your muscles tensing, your breath quickening.

You could feel him smirk against your skin, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you. And of course, he did.

Within moments, his lips left your neck, his breath still lingering on your skin as he pulled away just enough to look up at you from beneath his lashes.

Slowly, almost teasingly, he let his head trail downward, inch by inch, never breaking eye contact until it was impossible to hold it any longer. His hands followed the same path, skimming over your sides, your waist, his fingers barely brushing the fabric of your cute yet dangerously tempting pajamas.

His hands found the waistband of your pajama shorts, fingers slipping beneath the fabric as he tugged them down at an agonizingly slow pace. The soft material glided over your thighs, down your legs, until they finally pooled around your ankles.

“There you are,” he breathed out with joy. You were now bare, exposed, with nothing left to separate you from his burning gaze. His eyes roamed over your sticky, wet folds, drinking in every inch of you like a starving man. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he exhaled sharply, the sight of you testing every last bit of his restraint.

“Where have you been hiding all this time?” he exhaled, as if he’d finally found the meaning of life. You chuckled, cheeks red, but were cut off quickly as you felt Joel’s tongue glide over your labia, making you gasp and arch your back.

“F-fuck” you whine, squeezing your your thighs together, locking Joel’s head between your legs. He laughs against your heated skin, the vibration sending hot waves right into your core, making your breath hitch.

He repeated the teasing licks. Long, slow, and deliberate. Each one dragging against your folds, making your jaw fall open. The tension coiled inside you tighter and tighter, getting dangerously closer to your edge.

Your fingers found his messy hair, tugging at it and entangling your fingers in it while you bit your lower lip, hard, trying to be as quiet as possible. But even with your teeth clenched, a few desperate sounds slipped past the barrier of your swollen, wet lips, betraying your struggle to stay quiet. Every Joel's slight movement caused a new wave of sensation that you couldn’t fully contain.

His tongue entered you, making your legs tense and your heart skip a beat, you could feel the heat rushing to your face as the sensation overwhelmed you. His gaze never wavered. He didn’t stop looking at you, not even once. It was as if he was absorbing every little reaction of yours, and the way he enjoyed it made your pulse race even faster. The intensity of his attention only heightened the pressure in your chest, making you yearn for more.

The image of him, thrusting into you, finally feeling you inside him made Joel go faster, his movements sharp and precise, pressing his nose against your clit intentionaly, his breath warm against your skin.

And you felt it, again. That familiar sensation that had your mind spinning, your thoughts scattering like leaves in the wind. Your body reacted involuntarily, muscles tensing as if they had a life of their own, your whole body vibrating with anticipation. For just a second, you felt as if you were floating.

Your body arched, an instinctive reaction to the pleasure coursing through you, your fingers tugged at his hair with a force you didn’t realize you had. You even pulled some strands from his scalp, but he didn’t flinch.

If anything, it only seemed to fuel him, his grip on your thighs tightening as he continued, oblivious to the way your hands were wrapped tightly in his hair.

His tongue mercilessly stretched you, licking you out and savoring every drop, while his nose teased your clit even more frequently. He could feel how close you were. The way your thighs trembled around his head, your core clenched around his tongue, and finally, you reached your second orgasm of this night, his name tumbling from your lips in a breathless, intense whisper.

He stilled, his movements ceasing, but he remained there, letting you feel every lingering sensation. He gave you a moment to catch your breath, to let the waves of pleasure settle in your body. Your legs felt weak, your senses hazy, and the lingering warmth of his touch sent occasional shivers down your spine.

When you finally started to come down from your high, the overstimulation became almost unbearable. Every little touch felt electric, your body twitching involuntarily, still reacting to the intensity of it all. He finally pulled away, his lips and beard glistening from your juice, as he watched you with a look of pure satisfaction, taking in every detail of your dazed expression.

Your eyes remained shut, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggled to regain control over your breath. Each time you dared to open them, the world around you spun, a dizzy haze clouding your senses. You had to ground yourself, to force your body back into reality.

Joel’s hands never left your thighs, his grip firm yet reassuring. His thumb traced slow, comforting circles against your skin, anchoring you, silently reminding you that you were safe. His touch was steady, patient, giving you time and letting you come back at your own pace.

„It’s okay, babygirl. Relax, take your time,“ his voice melted into the air, deep and soothing, like warm honey coating every syllable.

His voice was enough to ease the lingering tremors in your body. The pounding in your ears slowed, the dizziness faded, and you found yourself breathing in sync with him.

You finally managed to open your eyes and prop yourself up on your elbows, taking in the sight before you. And God…that sight was unforgettable.

Joel, shirtless, his body glistening with a thin sheen of sweat, droplets rolling down his temples. His lips, red and slightly swollen, his beard still damp, from you. And that look in his eyes. Soft, comforting, yet laced with hunger.

“What?” he tilted his head slightly, that signature smirk playing on his lips, clearly amused by your reaction. You shook your head, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth as you met his gaze.

“Are you ready to continue?”

Continue?!

Your eyes widened, your pupils dilated, your body instinctively tensing. You weren’t sure if it was from anticipation or the sheer disbelief that he wasn’t done with you yet. That this wasn’t everything.

Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out. You didn’t know if you could handle more. If you could handle him. You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry as you tried to find your voice.

“I…” you started, but your own hesitation made you pause. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for your answer, his expression filled with curiosity and just a hint of amusement.

“Suddenly speechless, huh?” His hands remained on your thighs, keeping you in place, not forcefully, but enough to remind you that you weren’t going anywhere unless he allowed it. Your lips parting slightly, but no words came out.

But everything shifted the moment your eyes dropped lower, down to his sweatpants.

The outline of his erection was impossible to ignore, straining against the soft fabric, so prominent it sent a fresh wave of heat rushing through your body.

He was big.

Bigger than you expected, bigger than you thought you could handle. How were you supposed to take that?

His tip was already leaking through the material, a darkened spot forming where he was pressing against the fabric, and the sight alone made your breath hitch in your throat. Your fingers twitched at your sides, an unspoken mix of anticipation and uncertainty making your chest rise and fall faster.

In that moment, as your eyes remained fixed on the outline straining against his sweatpants, everything suddenly became crystal clear. Any hesitation, any lingering nerves, dissolved into nothing. You knew exactly what you wanted.

You wanted him. You wanted to feel him, deep, filling, stretching you in ways you had only imagined. Your body burned with need, the ache between your thighs growing unbearable, and as you finally dragged your gaze back up to meet his, there was no doubt left in your mind.

You were more than ready.

A sudden surge of energy shot through your body, making you push yourself up onto your elbows without hesitation.

Before Joel could react, your hands found their way to the back of his neck, pulling him down to you with a desperate need.

Your lips crashed against his, tasting yourself on him. He let out a low, surprised groan against your mouth, but quickly melted into you, his grip on your thighs tightening as he pressed closer.

You were hungry, desperate, and Joel felt it instantly.

Not just from the way your lips moved feverishly against his or how your fingers gripped the back of his neck with such need, but from the way your hips instinctively pushed forward, grinding against him without a second thought.

A low, guttural sound rumbled in his throat as he felt the pressure, your warmth pressing into his hardened length, still trapped beneath the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

“Shit,” he muttered against your lips, his hands tightening on your thighs as if trying to ground himself. But you weren’t about to slow down.

His hands traveled up your sides, fingers ghosting over your skin as he subtly slipped them under your pajama shirt, inching it higher.

You broke the kiss just long enough to lift your arms, making it easier for Joel to pull the fabric over your head and toss it carelessly to the floor.

The moment your bare chest was revealed, his eyes darkened, scanning every inch of you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. His lips parted slightly, but no words came, just a sharp inhale, like he was trying to steady himself.

His tongue swiped over his lower lip, and you swore you saw his throat bob as he swallowed. Meanwhile, beneath the soft material of his sweatpants, his already strained arousal twitched in response to the sight before him.

Joel didn’t need to say a word, his expression and the way his body responded spoke volumes. His dark eyes, filled with admiration and raw desire, roamed over you, drinking in the sight.

When he finally snapped out of it, his hands quickly found their way back to your body, one cradling your cheek with surprising tenderness, the other gripping your waist with quiet possession. In one swift yet careful motion, he guided you down onto the cool surface of the kitchen island, his touch a contrast of control and craving.

The air between you was thick with warmth, every small gasp and deep murmur filling the silence. His patience, what little remained, was slipping away. His movements became more purposeful, more urgent. And then, finally, with a slow exhale, he pushed down the waistband of his sweatpants, letting them pool at his feet.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as his swollen tip dragged teasingly along your folds, smearing warmth with every slow, torturous pass. The sensation sent a shudder through your entire body, your fingers twitching against his skin.

Joel caught your reaction immediately, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest as he hovered above you, his lips barely brushing against yours. “Bigger than you expected, huh?” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His smirk widened as he watched your breath hitch, his own control hanging by a thread.

He kissed you a few more times, each kiss deep and hungry. His lips moved with an urgency, pressing against yours as if he couldn’t get enough.

Then slowly, almost hesitantly, he began to enter. The feeling was overwhelming at first, his moves careful, as if waiting for you to get used to him. Your back arched involuntarily, a wave of sensation running through you as you felt him deeper.

A loud gasp escaped your lips, your eyes snapped shut, the pressure building as your body responded to him. You could feel the heat coursing through your veins, the intensity of the moment nearly too much to bear.

Your hips moved against him, pushing him deeper into you. Joel groaned loudly with his teeth clenched, you were so increbily tight and wet, thanks to him. You boosted his ego without saying a single word, but your body was enough to prove him he is good. Amazing actually.

When he was fully in, you both exhaled in unison. You focused on trying to adjust, to calm yourself down. Meanwhile, he fought the urge to not cum yet. Though you made it really difficult for him, you had the best pussy he had ever felt.

After a while, he started moving. Slowly, deliberately, he moved without rushing, each moment drawing out the intensity between you. You could feel how badly he wanted to go faster, harder, his restraint palpable, but he was determined to take his time.

His focus was on you, ensuring that each movement was gentle and considerate, not wanting to destroy you…or did he?

He pulled out almost fully, the shift in pressure causing a sharp breath to catch in your throat. Then, with a slow motion, he slammed back in, making you gasp with every deep, steady thrust.

The feeling of him moving inside you was both tender and intense, each shift bringing a mix of pain and pleasure, that seemed to build with every passing second. The world outside seemed to fade as all you could focus on was him, the connection, and the rhythm that only the two of you shared in that moment.

“Yeah, just like that,” he hummed with low, deep, vibrating tone. His warm breath tickled your ear, and you could feel it on your skin as it sent a wave of shivers down your spine. The sensation made you press closer, wanting to feel him more deeply.

With a subtle shift, he increased his pace, moving with a deliberate rhythm. His hands on your hips, his grip firm and reassuring, pulling you in time with his movements. Each movement of his body against yours made the connection between you stronger.

“Have you even been fucked before? You're so fucking thight,” his voice began to falter, each word stumbling over itself as his breaths grew heavier. His tip hitting your cervix, faster and faster. Goosebumps rose on your skin, each tiny shiver spreading across your body as if every nerve was alive, reacting to him. Your body trembling, your skin was more sensitive, every touch amplifying the feeling, each breath becoming a little harder to take.

“Look at ya, taking my cock so well,” his rhythm quickened, as did the force of his movements. The slapping sounds of your bodies grew louder than your sighs.

Your hips moved instinctively, trying to match his pace, but Joel held you firmly, offering support in this moment that consumed you both. Every movement was synchronized, His breath matched the rhythm of his movements, each exhale sharp and heavy, filling the air between you.

It was all too much, but you absolutely loose it, when his thumb found your clit, creating frequent circles. You murmured, your movements becoming unsteady as your nails left marks on Joel’s skin, ones that would linger long after. Your lips were raw from biting them, trying your best to stay as quiet as possible.

“That's it sweetheart, that's it,” his forhead touching yours, his pace now uncontrolled, sloppy, trying to catch up with his orgasm. It was all too much for you. The way his finger moved on your clit, how his dick stretched you out and hitting all the good and deep places you couldn't reach yourself on your own, his hot breath warming your cold nose. This combination was just too much.

You could feel every inch of your body tightening, muscles pulling taut, ready to snap. The pressure inside you built steadily, each rough movement of his sending waves of sensation that coursed through you, igniting every nerve. You gasped, your chest rising and falling with each desperate breath, trying to keep up with the whirlwind of feelings crashing through you.

“Are you close?” Joel’s voice was a low murmur, his words almost lost in the soft sounds of your breathing. He knew damn well that you were about to cum, but he asked you anyway, purely to provoke you, to push you further into that moment.

You could only nod, your own voice failing you as your body responded to him with a hunger that couldn’t be ignored. His hard thrusting was urgent, each one deliberately measured to bring you closer.

Then, it hit. The pressure, the tension, all of it exploded in a sudden, overwhelming rush. Your breath caught in your throat, the release sweeping through you like a tidal wave. Every muscle in your body clenched involuntarily, and you couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped your lips. Your core clenching aroud Joel, locking him inside you, making it more difficult to move.

His name escaped in a whispered gasp as you trembled under the intensity of it. His hand found your cheek, cupping it tightly as he followed soon after, his own release coming with a sharp, breathless exhale. You felt the shudder run through him, a final wave of tension washing over you both.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the silence heavy between your breaths. His forehead rested gently against yours, his breathing labored as he tried to catch his breath.

“That was…” Joel’s voice faltered, but the words didn’t need to be finished. You exhaled slowly, a soft laugh escaping your lips. Your breathing heavy, listening to the rhythm of it - his and yours, blending together in the quiet of the kitchen.

Your bodies still connected, neither of you moving, just absorbing everything that had just happened. The heat between you still lingered,the world outside felt distant.

Then suddenly, Joel tensed. His entire body stiffened against yours, and his breath hitched as if something had just struck him like a bolt of lightning. He pulled back slightly, his forehead no longer resting against yours, and when you looked up at him, his expression made your stomach drop.

His usual unreadable, nonchalant demeanor was completely gone. Instead, his eyes were wide, his face frozen in shock. It was the kind of expression that sent panic crawling up your spine, because Joel didn’t get shaken easily.

Your breath caught. “What?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He blinked once, then twice, as if his brain was still catching up to his own thoughts. Then, in a rushed breath, he asked, “Do you have… contraception?”

For a moment, you just stared at him, processing the words. And then, relief washed over you so fast you almost laughed. Your body relaxed as you let out a slow, deep sigh, closing your eyes for a second as you exhaled.

A small, amused smile tugged at your lips as you opened them again. “Yeah,” you murmured, voice still soft from exhaustion. “I do.”

Joel let out a breath he’d clearly been holding. His shoulders dropped, and he shook his head, rubbing a hand over his face before letting out a low, relieved chuckle.

“Jesus… Alright. Good. That’s… yeah. Good.” He blew out another breath, muttering under his breath, “Scared the hell out of me for a second.”

The tension that had momentarily gripped the air dissolved just as quickly as it had come, and all that remained was warmth, quiet laughter, and the steady rhythm of your breathing once more.

Joel’s hand traced lazily onto your stomach, his fingers running up and down, grounding you in the quiet aftermath. His touch was absentminded, gentle, as if he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

But eventually, he exhaled deeply and shifted slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple before murmuring, “Alright, sweetheart… I gotta move.”

You hummed softly, barely responsive, still lost in the blissful daze. But then, you felt it. The slow pull as he carefully withdrew from you, making sure to move gently, mindful of your sensitivity. The sudden loss of warmth made you shiver slightly, and Joel noticed instantly, his hands rubbing over your hips before he pulled you closer for just a second longer.

“Easy,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing.

It took him another breath before he finally pushed himself out, stretching his back slightly with a small, tired groan. He looked down at you, taking in the sight of you still sprawled out, your chest rising and falling in slow, steady breaths. His expression softened.

“You okay?” His voice was quieter now, laced with something that sounded like concern. You managed a small nod, offering him a sleepy, satisfied smile. “Mhm,” you hummed.

Joel didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before he muttered, “Stay here. I got you.”

And with that, he stood, running a hand through his messy hair as he made his way to the bathroom. You barely had time to process the sound of running water before he was back, a warm, damp cloth in his hand.

“Alright, darlin’, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He was gentle as he moved, wiping you down with slow, deliberate care, making sure not to rush. He took his time, his rough hands smoothing over your skin as if to comfort you as much as to clean you. When he was done, he tossed the cloth aside and ran his palms over your thighs, massaging lightly, making sure you weren’t too sore.

Then, without another word, he reached for you, effortlessly lifting you into his arms.

“Joel,” you murmured, surprised by the sudden movement.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said simply. “Just takin’ you to the bathroom. Wanna make sure you’re okay.”

You let your head rest against his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. He smelled like sweat and warmth and something unmistakably him. It was comforting in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

Joel carried you into the bathroom with ease, setting you down carefully before grabbing another warm cloth, making sure you were comfortable as he helped you clean up properly. He never rushed you, never made you feel like you had to do anything but just be there, letting him take care of you.

Once you were done, he grabbed a towel, wrapping it around your shoulders before pressing a soft kiss to your hair.

“There we go,” he murmured, rubbing small circles into your back. “Better?”

You looked up at him, meeting those deep brown eyes, and smiled. “Yeah,” you whispered.

Joel smirked slightly, brushing a thumb over your cheek before muttering, “Good. Now, let’s get you to bed.”

And with that, he scooped you up again, carrying you effortlessly back to the warmth and safety of his arms. On the way to your room, Joel bent down to grab your clothes from the floor, all while still holding you securely in his arms. He was strong, effortlessly so. Without breaking a sweat, he climbed the stairs, pushed open your bedroom door, and gently laid you down onto the bed.

You peeled off the towel, exhaustion making even the smallest movements feel heavy. With the last bit of strength you had left, you reached for your pajamas, determined to dress yourself. Joel lingered for a second, clearly wanting to help, but you gave him a look that told him this was something you needed to do on your own.

Once you were settled, he pulled the blanket over you, tucking you in with a care that felt almost out of character for him. Then, he leaned down, pressing one last kiss to your forehead.

“Goodnight,” he murmured, stepping back.

He was trying to slip back into his usual nonchalant self, acting like this was nothing, like he wasn’t affected. But the faint, almost reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his lips betrayed him.

“Joel?” you whispered softly as Joel stood with his hand on the door handle. He turned to face you, staying silent for a moment. “Thank you… for everything.” Joel’s lips curled slightly, and he gave a quiet chuckle, nodding once before finally stepping out of your room.

As soon as he left, his mind was a whirlwind of confusion. He still couldn’t wrap his head around what had just happened. How had things ended up like this? He had sex with daughter of his best friend. How messed up did that sound? It felt wrong, disgusting even. But he couldn't help it. You were just so-

“Hey, what are you doing here?” Joel froze as your dad’s voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts. He turned, finding your father walking toward him. The grip on the door handle tightened instinctively, and Joel quickly swallowed, realizing he was still holding it.

He had to think fast. “Uh, I was just checking on her, making sure she’s okay,” Joel said, trying to sound calm. He hoped his voice didn’t betray him.

“Uh huh, and isn’t that my job?” your dad replied with a smirk, raising an eyebrow and pointing to himself. Joel’s heart skipped a beat, and his pulse quickened. He was barely holding it together but had to stay cool.

“Yeah, I was just on my way to the bathroom, and I figured I’d check on her while I was passing by…” Joel added quickly, pretending like the situation was completely normal. He had the perfect excuse, the bathroom was right next door, so it made sense. It was bealivable.

“Hmm… and is she okay?” your dad asked, his tone skeptical, but Joel could tell he was buying it.

Joel exhaled, feeling the tension leave his body as he relaxed. A smile tugged at his lips, and he dropped his gaze to the floor before looking up again. “Yeah, she’s more than okay.”

With that, Joel turned and walked past your dad, offering a casual “Good night.” Your dad watched him, but didn’t say another word, just stared after him.

What had Joel meant by that??

Thank you so much for reading! I’d really appreciate a reblog, comment, or follow! If you want to be tagged in my fanfics, feel free to let me know! Love you, and take care of yourselves!🤍

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eddiesxangel · 2 years ago

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My Little Bunny | Older!Eddie x Reader

For Evie, @oneforthemunny prompt for her writing challenge. “based off the lore that older!eddie gets slutty on tequila lol. gimme tequila eddie. make it slutty. the og prompt was at the beach for a wedding of a cousin, if you’d like to follow that, but if not- where does it happen? how do you think it would go? don’t spare a single detail please!!!!” I hope I did your man justice 😘 happy one year!

Happy new year! Here is some smut to start the year off right.

This is pure filth, don’t look at me🫣

Cw: age gap, oral, p in v, ass play, anal. Minors DNI. Only slightly proofread so if you see a spelling mistake… no you didn’t 😤

“Bunnnnnnnnnnnnnny” Eddie slurred. The man could not handle his liquor. But neither could you.

After what happened and the wedding, Eddie swore he wouldn’t drink tequila for a very long time. However, tonight was special. Tonight, the baby was with your parents, and Bri was off with your sister for the evening. It was just you. And Eddie. Alone for the first time in what felt like years. Eddie was wining and dining with you tonight.

You convinced him to go to a bar to dance. Well, you danced, he watched. He watched your body; he loved the new curves you got from bringing Delilah into the world. You returned to the bar where he was sitting and ordered four tequila shots. Eddie had been nursing a beer all night; he was shocked at your drink of choice.

“Bunny you know what happens when I drink this…” giving you a stern look.

“Maybe I wanna get a little freaky tonight…. It’s been so long” you run your hands up and down his chest.

“I don’t know”

“What if I gave you an insensitive?”

“And what would that be?”

“I want you to fuck my ass tonight” you whispered against your husband’s ear.

“Bunnnnnnnnnnnnnny” Eddie slured again as you both stumbled into your home.

“Fuck I need you. I need your tight ass so bad”

You can’t keep your hands off one another. Your lips are attached to his neck, and your hands run up and down his body. You barely make it through the front door before your hands are trying to get down his pants.

Somehow, you make it to the bedroom. You were stripping your man with each step. Something inside of you was burning, and Eddie was the only thing to put it out. A visceral ache in your core, screaming at you to do something about it.

“I need you, I need you so bad,” you whined because he wasn’t moving fast enough. You were already on the bed waiting for him.

Eddie giggled as he tried to unbutton his dress shirt, but it didn’t seem to work.

“Come here,” Eddie coxed you closer to him. “I need your help.”

“Arms up,” your mom instincts kicked in, and you pulled off Eddie’s shirt in one swift motion.

Without hesitation, you worked on his pants the second your fingertips left the fabric of his shirt. Your nimble fingers worked his belt, button, and zipper, and finally, why you craved most was released before you.

"God, you're so hot! How did I land a wife so fucking hot?"

You let Eddie cup your face, kissing you as he pushes you back onto the bed. His tongue parted your lips, and you gladly let him take charge.

It was needy and messy but so deliciously delightful. You missed your hundreds touch. You’d been so busy being a new mom, and Eddie tried picking up extra shifts to make a little more cash so you could take a nice vacation this summer. You hardly spent time together. You needed this. He needed this. The fire in his belly was also burning the second you mentioned your perfect tight little hole wanting to be stretched and pounded by his cock.

“You gonna be my good little bunny?” Eddie spoke as he slinked down your body so his face was level with your throbbing pussy.

“Yes!” You had zero patients, and he thought it was cute.

“Well then... You gotta get nice and wet, f’me”

“Already ammmmm” you wined again. Why was he prolonging this?

“Oh is she? I guess I’ll just have to see for myself.” Eddie didn’t spare another second. His hands wrenched your legs open, pressing them as far as they could reach.

You let out a moan of pleasure when his mouth finally attached to your lower lips.

Eddie needed to taste you. He usually didn’t do this often, but tonight you deserved to be thoroughly fucked. He needed to feel you cumming in his mouth, to taste you, to feel you. His eyes rolled back into his head as he moaned into your pussy.

“Looks like you were right, baby bunny, and you taste so good. Just can’t get enough,” Eddie dove back in, flicking and licking at your clit. Your body was so reactive to him tonight. Let’s thank the tequila because it didn’t take much to make you cum from his mouth.

“Baby, I’m so close”

“Already? But I just started playing with her” he pouted.

“Yes! P-please.” You stuttered.

“You wanna cum? You going to cum for me?”

Unexpectedly, Eddie replaced his mouth with his finger just as you were on the brink. Before you could say anything, his finger was inside your wet fold, collecting all of your slick, and was quickly replaced by his mouth again.

You could feel the warmth building back up. Eddie continued to work your clit. All the while, his finger, drenched with your own natural lube, was starting to tease your other hole.

“Oh my god,” you moan as his finger slowly makes its way inside.

“You okay?”

“Don’t stop!” You begged as your first orgasm washes through you.

“Fuck, your tight little ass is sucking me in so good,” Eddie continues to finger you as you ride out your orgasm.

“Good bunny. Turn around, ass up, show me what’s mine.”

You quickly obeyed his orders and flipped around so you could show him what he wanted. You loved when he got possessive.

“Tell me what you want bunny”

“You.”

“Nu-uh,” Eddie tutted. “Be more specific.”

“Edddiiiieee, please, I need you.”

Eddie couldn’t believe your extra brattiness tonight.

“No,” a sharp slap filled the room and your ass stung. “Tell me what you need, Bunny,” he spoke, and he massaged the area he slapped. Soothing your skin.

“Your tongue… and your fingers,” you pant.

“Good little bunny,” he smirked. “You want me to tongue fuck your tight little hole? Get you nice and ready for me?”

“Yes,” you sigh as you arch your back more so Eddie can see more of you.

“Fuck bunny, you’re perfect.” Eddie gripped each cheek, spreading you open before dipping his head down.

When you felt his tongue make contact with your hole, you cried out again. You were revelling in the fact you were in an empty house. You could be as loud as you wanted.

“Mmmmmm, you taste so good, Bunny,” he moaned into you.

“Eddie!”

“Yes, Bunny?”

“More!”

“More what?”

“Please fuck my pussy”

“You’re such a good little slut for me. Good girl telling me what you want…. But is that all you want?” God, he was so condescending.

You let out an irritated huff. “Eddie, please,” you begged as you wiggled your ass in the air to entice him.

“You need to behave, little bunny, or else you’re not going to get what you want.” Eddie’s hands gripped your cheeks tighter.

“I’m sorry, I just need you so badly baby”

“Ohhh, I like that; tell me more.”

“I need you so bad! I’m aching for you. Please.”

“That’s my good girl.

Eddie lined up his cock with your wanton hole and slowly stretched you out.

“Thank you.” You sighed with relief.

His thick long cock stretched out your walls. You couldn’t help yourself as you rocked your body back and forth onto his cock.

“That’s it, bunny. Show me what you really can do” he slapped your ass again. You rocked your knees and hips back onto Eddie’s cock as he stood at the edge of your shared bed.

“Mmmmmm”

“More!”

You felt a wad of spit drip down your ass, lower and lower, until Eddie’s fingers found it and rimmed your picked hole. As you rocked your body against Eddie’s cock he dipped in his single digit, adding another and another until you stretched out.

Your body is screaming; Eddie was making you feel so good.

“Ok, bunny, you’re going to ride me, bounce on this cock and show me how good of a Bunny you are.”

“Yes, please. Need you.”

Eddie pulled out so he could get underneath you, but not before he reached the nightstand to pull out the lube you had stashed away for nights like these.

“You ready for me, baby?” He asked as he covered his cock in the slippery substance.

“Yes,” you swung your leg around his hips, aligning yourself with his hard cock that lay on his stomach.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispered as he guided your hips down onto him.

“Oh fuck” you both grit out in unison.

You watched as Eddie glazed over with lust.

“Fucking so good. Damn, tight.” Eddie gritted through his teeth.

He planted his feet on the mattress to ground himself. His hips started thrusting up into you, matching your strokes.

“Fuck fuck fuck I love the way you take my cock. Tell me how much you love this cock.”

“I love it,” you panted as you bounced on his cock. You felt so full, so complete. So ready for his cock to fill you.

“Baby, touch me,” you commanded.

Eddie dipped his head to take a nipple in his mouth as his hand found your pussy, finding your clit. A rush of pleasure ran through your body as his mouth and hands explored your body.

“Oh baby,” you threw your head back with pleasure.

“How much do you want it, baby bunny?”

“I want it so bad!”

“What do you want?”

“Your cum”

“Sucha little slut, want me to fill your ass with my cum?”

“Yes!”

Eddie’s hand never stopped working your clit. You could feel the pleasure build and build. Your legs were burning, but it was in measure to how Eddie was making you feel.

“You’re close baby I can feel you clenching down on me so tight.” He squeezed his eyes shut with pleasure.

“Cum for me, baby, cum for me, then I’ll fill you up so good you’ll be leaking for days. Do you want that? To feel my cum dripping out of you tomorrow?”

“Fuck. Eddie!” You cried out as your body clenched around his cock, cumming hard.

"Eddie continued to pound into your ass until he unloaded up into you, filling you up just like you begged him to do.

Your body went limp and your soar muscles rested as you lay your weight fully on your husband.

"Remind me again. Why don't I do tequila?" Eddie laughed as his brain released serotonin. "That was amazing." He kissed the top of your head.

"Remember that question tomorrow, big boy." You giggled, and Eddie finally pulled out of you.

"Come on, Bunny, let's get you cleaned up. " Even in his drunken state, he still needed to take care of you.

"Can't move. You fucked me too well." you sighed.

"I think you did most of the work Bun, you fucked me."

"I did, didn't I?" You smile at the realization.

"Don't get cocky now" He slapped your ass, and you jumped up out of bed with Eddie following close behind you.

#Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x reader #eddie munson smut #older!eddie munson #older!eddie munson x reader #older!eddie x reader #older!eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #munnysonederful

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minimomoe · 1 year ago

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How to Train your Demon

Pairing: trueform! Sukuna x Fem Reader

Summary: Life has all kinds of wins and losses. You don't know which category to put your new demon husband in though.

Tags: MDNI!, red string of fate trope, true form sukuna, librarian reader, soul mates, reincarnation, accidental summoning, love at first sight (but it's one-sided (until it's not)), Sukuna is demon, but he's v much in love, smut and stuff eventually i guess....

Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. (completed)

Rule no. 4: Introduce new people slowly

“Toji, I need you to be as open minded as possible,” you warned.

Your ex-boyfriend stared down at you with a single thin eyebrow raised and his arms crossed over his chest. You had him standing outside your front door after calling him on the phone last night with a strange request to come in this morning. You had cut things off with him and while it was not a messy breakup, it was still a surprise for you to reach out to him. You told him that your feelings for him were more platonic than anything else, and while it was hard for him to understand how he had gotten the short end of the stick after reflection he realized that you two were much better as friends like you stated. He got your back because you had his.

It didn’t make meeting Sukuna any easier.

Toji wasn’t sure who, or what, exactly he was looking at when he stood in front of your living room. It looked like a man with way too many limbs and strange black tattoos all over his face and body. You frantically waved your hands around as you talked to explain what you were doing with him in your house to Toji.

“There was this weird book donated to the library and the pages were falling out so obviously I was going to fix it because I was drawn to it but now looking back I was probably under some spell because the next thing I knew he was on my bed telling me that we’re married soulmates and his stomach talks and I don’t think it’s fair to keep him hidden but I don’t know how I can take him anywhere when he looks like that.” You took a deep breath after exposing the past few days to Toji and instantly felt a little better. Keeping such a big secret to yourself was taking a toll on your mental and you were glad to share the burden with another person. Toji and Sukuna glared at each other harshly. Sukuna sensed a powerful adversary, someone who had the ability to oppose him while Toji saw that you had chosen the strangest rebound of all time.

“Was I that bad that you had to get married right after me?”

“No!”

“That’s precisely what happened,” the demon butted in.

You threw daggers at Sukuna and tried to quickly explain but he continued to talk over you as well.

“You broke her heart—“

“Sukuna is a demon that I summoned—“

“—and now I must kill you.”

“—who is not going to be killing anyone!” You reminded Sukuna before Toji could react to the threat. “And Toji didn’t break my heart!” You could feel the tension rising from both sides and dragged Sukuna away from Toji before he actually tried to tear his head off. “Look— Toji, I did some shit that I can’t fully explain without sounding like a crazy person—“

“You don’t sound like a crazy person. You’re already there,” Toji said.

“Do not call my wife mad,” Sukuna snarled. He took a step forward and you threw your arm across his chest to stop him. He simply pushed your arm out of his way, careful not to hurt you but not letting you get in the way of a disrespectful human.

“Stop throwing that word around,” you growled, dragging Sukuna’s shoulder back with enough strength to actually make him stumble back. “I’m not your wife and you don’t get to hurt any of my friends. What’s going on in that ancient block head of yours doesn’t matter right now. And you ,” you squinted at Toji, “have to be nice. I’m sure this is a major culture shock to Sukuna right now.”

“So let me get this straight,” Toji sighed. He pointed at Sukuna who swatted his finger out of his face. “That’s your…”

“Guest,” you offered. Toji gave you a doubtful look but continued.

“Right. Guest , who is also some evil spirit that you found in a book and you want me to do what exactly?”

“Well for starters, take us to the mall? My car is too tiny to fit him,” you complained. You didn’t need to try to see that Sukuna’s frame was much too large for your small sedan that wouldn’t hold anyone over the height of 5’10” comfortably.

“You’re so smart. Taking my car solves that issue and when we get to the mall we won’t have any problems with the fucking big red giant stomping behind us.”

You scowled at Toji’s sarcasm but he was right. Getting Sukuna in a car was only half of your problem.

“Sukuna, is there anything you can do about your appearance? Y’know, try to look a little more human?”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened. You asking was not a problem but Toji being around really grinned his gears. You gave him big brown pleading eyes and Sukuna pinched the bridge of his nose.

He started with the easiest one, which was his stomach, focusing energy to seal it off until his abs had no interruption. Then it was the lower pair of arms. Morphing them into his ribs wasn't nearly as painful as it sounded but bone crunching sounds filled the room. You gasped, throwing your hand over your mouth as your eyes widened at his transformation. Lastly was his face. Sukuna could smooth the skin out as much as hume could but the discoloration remained the same. The additional eyes were reduced to slits, appearing like scars instead of orifices. When Sukuna opened his eyes again the changes were finished. You shakily reached out to touch his arms that remained.

“Did that hurt? I don’t want you to be in pain,” you whispered.

Sukuna placed his hand over yours and smiled. “There’s nothing for you to worry about.”

From Toji’s perspective you were already a doting wife to the monster in your living room. You inspected the rest of his body like he had fallen off a building and not magically changed because you asked him to.

“Okay, you really do look alright. Toji, do you think you can give him something to wear? Nothing of mine will fit him.”

Toji flat out disagreed. “I’m not doing that. Can’t he conjure up some shit to wear?”

“He can’t walk around like this! The pants are… okay, but he really needs a top. You don’t even have a jacket to lend?”

“Fuck. No.”

“Asshole,” you grumbled. You looked back at Sukuna. Sure men could get away with not wearing shirts in public areas, especially in the summer heat, but Sukuna was still freakishly tall with intricate tattoos lining his body. You wanted to lessen the attention brought to him as much as you could.

“I wouldn’t want to put on your robes,” Sukuna said pointedly to Toji. Just like he suggested, Sukuna suddenly had on a white kimono with blue lining on, covering most of his body.

“That—that works too,” you stuttered. His powers confused you. The idea that there are really higher beings was really fucking with your mind but you tried not to apply your human logic to it. It clearly couldn’t hold a candle next to Sukuna.

After arguing who sits where in Toji’s much larger SUV, you watched from the back seat as both men sat in the front. Sukuna was intrigued by the buttons that littered the dashboard and Toji wanted him to do anything but touch.

“Go easy on him, Toji. Culture shock, remember?”

“Just because you pulled somebody out from a biblical time period does not mean they get to fuck with my shit.” He scowled at you through the rear view mirror but you pretended not to see him.

Loud music charged the car and vibrated in your chest, making you all scream out in shock. Sukuna had turned the dial for the stereo as loud as it could go and Toji swerved into another lane. You reached over from the backseat to shut the radio off and Toji gained control of the car once again. You all sat in silence but you could hear the boiling anger in Toji. You were worried, not only for Toji’s outburst but Sukuna’s as well. You knew that he was keeping calm for your sake, but you were afraid that Toji would push him over the edge. You weren’t sure what Sukuna was capable of, but you did know it would lead to mass destruction.

“He can walk to the goddamn mall. Get out. Now,’ he barked.

“Toji don’t do that to him.”

“You’re making excuses for him!” “I’m being sympathetic! Sukuna, baby, listen. Please just sit there. I know I’ve been asking a lot of you lately but I would really like for us to get to our destination safely.”

The term of endearment slipped out of your mouth by accident, and Sukuna perked up at the use of it as well. He was your baby, something that you looked at with affection. He stared at you and you gave him a hopeful smile.

“I’ll keep to myself,” he promised.Toji muttered some insult under his breath that you pinched him for before sagging back into your seat.

“We’ll buy you new clothes and get something to eat. Simple, normal tasks. We should be in and out.”

You could only hope.

Thanks for reading loves!! lemme know what ya think xx

Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII.

M.list || Twitter || Ao3

#minimoe #jjk #black fem reader #jjk fanfic #jjk sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryoumen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna fluff #sukuna x you #red string of fate #sukuna ryoumen x you #toji fushiguro

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austinbutlerslovers · 7 months ago

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Behind the Scenes

Label Mature 18+

Summary You’ve never been able to contain your jealousy when it comes to Austin. So when he shoots an intimate scene as Feyd Rautha with his female co-star, your jealousy simmers just beneath the surface, before burning behind the scenes.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 jealous passion • make it better • oral on fem • claiming • P in V • sex against a mirror •orgasms• cream pie 🔗Master List

📖 Proofreader @purejasmine 💭Plot inspired by @psycheetamore 💕

Behind the Scenes

You had never doubted Austin’s love for you—not really. But being in a relationship with someone so effortlessly magnetic, so achingly handsome and charming, came with its own share of insecurities. His fame was undeniable; his talent, unmatched. But what haunted you the most was how he managed to flirt without even trying.

The way he held eye contact just a second too long, his easy smile, and the way his voice dipped into a tone that made every word sound like a secret—it wasn’t deliberate, you knew, but it still drove you crazy.

Especially when it came to other women.

Especially when those women were stunning celebrities who practically melted under his gaze.

Lea Seydoux is no exception. You’ve seen her work, admired her elegance and wit from afar, but now, watching her with him on set is unbearable. You can’t help but feel like an outsider—like you’re watching two people who fit better together than you and Austin ever could.

The scene between them is intense. Austin, fully transformed into Feyd Rautha, stands behind her—Lady Margot—his knife pressed against her throat as he whispers into her ear. His menace is undeniable, his brooding presence intoxicating, and you can’t deny how convincing Austin is in the role. But when she leads him to the next room to continue the scene, something inside you twists.

He follows her through the doors as she sits on the bed, the scene unfolding like a deadly dance. She perches on the edge of the futuristic bed, her movements precise, calculating, the perfect Bene Gesserit.

“Kneel,” Lea commands, her voice laced with quiet authority, and Austin obeys without hesitation. He sinks gracefully to his knees, his sharp, predatory energy tempered into dangerous submission.

Your eyes narrow as they lean toward each other, their faces inches apart. The tension between them is unbearable, the kind of chemistry that makes your envy uncontrollable. You can’t tear your eyes away. It looks like they are about to kiss—a slow, inevitable collision—until Lea breaks the moment with her next line.

“Put your hand in the box,” she says, her voice low, her French accent only adding to the sensual edge of the scene.

In her lap is cradled the prop of the “Jom Gabbar,” the iconic Bene Gesserit pain box. In her other hand, she holds a needle poised near his neck. The camera zooms in, capturing the dangerous intimacy between them, the way Feyd’s defiance melts into reluctant obedience as he extends his hand.

“Cut!” the director finally calls, breaking the spell. But the tension between them is too real, too raw, and even though the cameras aren’t rolling, it doesn’t stop.

Austin grins at something Lea says, her fingers lightly brushing his chest. The inky darkness of his black out smile makes the gesture both unnerving and magnetically attractive as she leans in closer to playfully tease him.

The ease between them lights a fire in your stomach. The kind of fire that burns and sears and leaves nothing but jealous ash in its wake.

By the time the filming for the day ends, you are brimming with resentment in Austin’s trailer, your thoughts racing, your chest tight with the weight of everything you’ve seen.

He emerges from the shower, his hair damp and slicked back. A towel hangs low around his hips, exposing the sharp lines of his torso, every muscle carved and glistening. The pale body paint of Feyd has been rinsed clean, but the intense persona lingers.

“You’re mad,” he says, tilting his head as he studies your expression. His voice is low and commanding. “Let me guess. Lea?”

“Don’t say her name like that,” you snap, crossing your arms. “I saw the way she was touching you, Austin. The way you were looking at her.”

He smirks, leaning casually against the doorframe, every bit the picture of arrogance. “I was acting, but perhaps my talent is something you can’t discern yet,” he says, his tone dripping with mockery, the smirk on his lips daring you to argue.

“You weren’t acting when the cameras were off,” you shoot back, your voice laced with frustration and something sharper—hurt.

His smirk deepens, infuriatingly slow. “You’re jealous,” he says, the words rolling off his tongue like a quiet taunt.

“Of course I’m jealous!” you blurt, stepping closer. “Do you have any idea what it’s like, watching everyone throw themselves at you? And you—you just… let them.”

His eyes flicker, cool and unreadable, and for a moment, he says nothing. Then, with a slight tilt of his head, he gestures toward the chair beside you. “Sit.”

You bristle at his tone, crossing your arms. “No.”

“Sit,” he repeats, his voice sharper now, and it isn’t a request, Austin is being uncharacteristically insistent.

Instead of obeying, you turn your back on him, shaking your head. “I’m not doing this,” you say, your voice laced with frustration and defiance.

Before you can walk away, you feel him move behind you, his presence looming, suffocating. His hands come to your shoulders, firmly stopping you in your tracks. Slowly, his fingers slide down your arms, sensually grazing your skin in a way that makes your breath catch.

His voice is low and commanding as it brushes against your ear. “Don’t walk away from me,” he whispers, the edge in his tone unmistakable. “Not when you’re unsettled like this.”

You try to shrug him off, but his grip tightens as he steps closer, his chest brushing your back. His hand slides up, tilting your chin so you’re forced to look at the full-length mirror in front of you.

“Look at yourself,” he says, his reflection towering over yours, his eyes locking onto yours in the glass. His hand stays on your chin, keeping you in place. “Do you see what I see?”

You swallow hard, your heart racing as his words settle over you. The intensity in his eyes, the dominance in his stance—it’s Feyd, unmistakably. But somewhere beneath the surface, there’s still Austin, the man who always seems to unravel you with a single glance.

“Do you think I would let anyone ruin what is mine?” he asks, his voice a low rasp that sends a shiver down your spine. His hand moves from your chin to your waist, pulling you back against him. “Answer me.”

Your breath catches, your reflection betraying every crack in your composure. The line between Austin and Feyd blurs, their edges indistinguishable in his gaze. “Austin, stop it. You’re not—”

“Not what?” he interrupts smoothly, his lips brushing your ear, his voice low, almost dangerous, sending a shiver racing down your spine.

He trails a finger down your throat, slow and deliberate, the weight of his touch making you swallow hard. It’s as if he’s still lost in the scene, his intensity blurring the line between acting and reality. Instead of a knife, his hand moves lower, settling over your chest, his palm cupping your breast, his fingers kneading it gently.

“Is this what you want?” he rasps in your ear, his words dripping with wicked intent. His eyes lock onto yours in the mirror, his piercing gaze daring you to look away.

His mouth presses against your neck, and when his tongue flicks out, you catch it in the mirror—his slow, deliberate lick up the column of your throat.

He makes sure you see it, makes sure you feel every inch of his dominance as his tongue drags along your skin in a way that leaves you trembling.

Your breath comes out in a shallow gasp as he presses closer, his body aligning with yours, the hardness of his need for you unmistakable.

“Tell me,” he whispers against your ear, his voice like a dark secret, “—Tell me that you want me to kneel for you,” he rasps, smooth and tantalizing.

His lips brush the shell of your ear as he lingers, letting his words settle deep in your chest.

“Austin—” you manage, but his name comes out more like a gasp, stunned and unsteady. Your mind spins, caught between disbelief and the undeniable heat coursing through you.

Austin steps around to face you, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes dark with intent. His hands slide up your sides, grazing the curves of your breasts before lifting your shirt up and over your head.

Your breath hitches as his tongue darts out, licking a slow stripe along the valley between your breasts before his hands slide up cupping them. His lips close around one nipple, sucking gently but firmly. The heat of his mouth sending a jolt through you, your body responding instantly.

His eyes flick up, catching yours, watching every shift in your expression as he works, his tongue teasing one sensitive peak before moving to the other, the intensity in his gaze holding you captive.

Then slowly, deliberately, he sinks to his knees before you, his movements fluid and commanding. Your eyelids flutter as you feel him hook his fingers into the waistband of your leggings.

With practiced ease, he slides them down along with your panties, the cool air of the trailer brushing against your heated skin as you step out of the fabric.

Without hesitation, his hands cup the back of your thighs, pulling you flush against his mouth. Your knees nearly buckle as his tongue meets you, hot and insistent. All you can do is watch in the mirror, your reflection a blur of flushed skin and trembling limbs as he devours you hungrily. The obscene, wet sounds of his movements fill the room, his mouth working you over with a precision that makes your head spin.

Your hand finds its way to his hair, gripping tightly as your mouth falls open in a silent cry. He flicks his tongue against your clit mercilessly, the rhythm relentless until the pressure inside you builds into something you can’t contain. His hands slide up your thighs, gripping your waist as he looks up at you. The sight of him, his face buried between your legs too much to bear.

Your voice chokes off, your body shuddering as the wave of your orgasm crashes over you. He stays with you through it, his mouth slowing but never stopping until the last moan fades from your lips. Then, with maddening calmness, he wipes his face along your thigh, his teeth grazing the soft flesh there as he nips at you, leaving a faint mark.

Standing slowly, he towers over you, his presence consuming as he turns you, pressing you face-first against the full-length mirror. The cool glass against your heated skin makes you shiver, but his body is there behind you, warm and solid.

His hand slides down, loosening the front of his towel before letting it drop to the floor. You barely have time to process the sight of him before you feel the insistent head of his cock slipping against your wetness, poised to enter you.

“Now,” he says, his voice low and raspy, the hunger in his tone unmistakable as your eyes meet in the mirror. “Let me show you exactly who I belong to.”

His hands grip your waist firmly as he thrusts into you, hard and powerful, the force of it stealing the air from your lungs. You moan, your palms pressing against the cool glass for balance as he sets a relentless pace in you. It’s overwhelming and intoxicating—there’s something darker, more commanding in his movements, and you savor every second of it.

“Tell me how much you like it” he rasps his hips snapping harder with each deep driving thrust, his body unyielding as he pushes you further into the mirror.

“Yes, F—Austin,” you moan, your voice breathless, trembling under the pressure. “Don’t stop—please, don’t stop.”

His abs flex with each thrust, his body relentless as his thighs clap against the back of yours the sound echoing in the space.

His hand tangles in your hair, tugging with just enough force to pull your head back. “Look at yourself,” he demands, his voice rough with exertion. “Watch what I do to you.”

Your eyes flick to the mirror, the sight of him behind you—his body moving with raw power—sending a new wave of pleasure crashing over you. The intensity is too much, the rhythm of his hips, the pull of his hand, the way his cock hits that perfect spot inside you again and again.

Your body trembles as you close your eyes, giving in to the overwhelming sensations as you cry out, your release washing over you in waves. He doesn’t slow, his movements coaxing every last contraction from you as his grip on your waist tightens, lingering as you orgasm completely.

His pace falters slightly as his control slips, his breaths turning into deep, guttural grunts thrusting harder and faster chasing his release until you feel the unmistakable twitch of his cock inside you.

A groan rips from his chest, low and primal, his hips pressing flush against yours as his release spills, filling you completely. His fingers dig into your waist, anchoring himself in the intensity of the moment as the warmth of him come spreads between you. His eyes flutter shut for a moment, his features softening in pleasure before his piercing gaze finds yours in the mirror again.

He slows his movements, pulling back to slip his satisfied cock from you, and his hands slide to your hips, steadying you as he turns you around to face him. His breaths are uneven, ghosting against your lips as his piercing gaze roams over your face. He takes in every detail—the flush of your cheeks, the way your chest rises and falls with each ragged breath, and your eyes filled with pleasure.

His thumb brushes along your jawline, the roughness of his touch grounding you further as a grin tugs at the corners of his lips.

“You’re even jealous of your own reflection,” he teases, his voice still rough from exertion.

You laugh, the sound soft and breathless as your hand rests gently against his jaw, your thumb brushing over his skin.

“I can’t help it,” you murmur, your voice filled with honesty. “You’re so special to me, Austin. Sometimes, it scares me.”

His grin softens into something warmer, more vulnerable, as his hands slide up to cup your face. “And you’re special to me,” he says, his voice quieter now, the rasp fading into sincerity. “More than you’ll ever know. No one else could ever make me feel the way you do.”

You lean into him, your cheek resting against his chest as his strong arms wrap around you, holding you close. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothes you as you let his words sink in, grounding you in the connection that only the two of you share. In his embrace, everything else melts away, leaving only the undeniable bond between you.

⚔️ End 🎬

🔗 Master List

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munsonsmixtapes · 5 months ago

Note

Smutty Steve request! Steve and reader are longtime friends, but he never thought of her *that* way until she shows up at a party or whatever in a this dress (that she got to finally get him to notice her) - like Dress by Taylor Swift inspired!

I got a little carried away with this one but I hope that’s okay lol

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) fingering, oral (f receiving)

Everyone knows how hopelessly in love with Steve you are. They can see how pathetically you look at him when he’s flirting with another girl. They can see it in the way you always go out of your way to touch him in a flirty manner. Everyone knows that you’re in love with Steve, well except for Steve.

You don’t know how obvious you can make it. You’ve asked him out multiple times and he always agrees, but he’s never aware that it’s a date. It’s just two friends hanging out. It’s to the point where you could tell him exactly how you feel and he still wouldn’t get it.

Steve isn’t stupid, you know that to be true, so why is he not getting your hints? How much longer are you going to have to spell it out for him until he finally gets it?

You stand in front of the house and take a deep breath as you smooth out your dress. It’s a little black thing. Something you would normally never wear, but after some convincing from Robin and Nancy at the mall, you caved and bought it.

It’s tight, hugging every single curve and heels you’re wearing make your legs look long even though it doesn’t matter because you can barely walk in there.

You hold on to Robin and Nancy for support as they lead you into the house, knowing that without them, you’d be walking like an animal who’s learning to walk for the first time. This is just saving you the embarrassment.

The second you walk through the door, Steve can’t seem to keep his eyes off of you. He’s not even paying attention to what Eddie, Jonathan, or Argyle are talking about. All he cares about is you.

Before he can stop himself, he’s making his way into the kitchen where you’re headed. Robin and Nancy let go of you and you hold onto the counter, trying to not make it obvious that you’re struggling.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asks and you nod enthusiastically. That would definitely make you forget about the pain of these stupid shoes.

“Please,” you nod and he’s quick to grab a solo cup and the red wine he knows you love. He pours it into the cup and watches you take a few sips, wondering what your pretty, red lips would look like with your mouth wide open as you moan his name over and over.

“Doesn’t y/n look great tonight, Steve?” Robin moves to stand beside him, nudging his shoulder with hers.

“Y-yeah,” he stutters, letting his eyes rake over your body. He’s never thought about you that way, but now he can’t stop thinking about burying his face between your thighs as your hands grab fistfuls of his hair, tugging on it.

You finally look at him and notice his cheeks flushing. You assume it’s the alcohol, but you can’t help but think that maybe it’s something else. Something dirty.

The tension between the two of you is now palpable as Steve steps forward and Robin and Nancy flee the kitchen, deciding that their work is now done.

You mimic Steve, stepping forward, only for your ankle to roll as you do so. Steve is quick to catch you, preventing you from falling to the floor. Those honey eyes are looking down at you in concern and you feel like you could just melt under his gaze.

He’s leaning so close that you’re sure he’s going to kiss you, but he doesn’t. He’s whispering something to you, those beautiful eyes boring into yours, but you can’t quite make out the words.

“Are you okay?” He asks, concern etching his features and you’re honored that he cares, but Steve always cares about you. About everyone. Always quick to take care of anyone who needs the attention.

You still remember the moment you fell in love with him. You were all park riding bikes because it was such a nice day. You didn’t know how to ride, but you wanted to feel included so you borrowed one of his bikes without having any prior experience.

You couldn’t stay steady, the bike moving this way and that and eventually, you fell over, the bike landing on top of you. Steve was quick to hurry over to you. Without a word, he pushed the bike off of you then carried you over to the blanket where the others who weren’t riding were sitting.

He pulled out a first aid kit from his pocket and cared for your scraped up knee. He was just so sweet and no one had ever done anything like that for you. He was your knight in shining armor and he didn’t even know it.

You’re brought to the present as helps you stand up, but your ankle gives out again as you wince at the pain coursing through it. Without another thought, Steve picks you up and carries you down the hallway to the nearest empty room which happens to be a bedroom.

Steve sets you on the bed and kneels in front of you, quick bring his hands up to your shoes, unbuckling the ankle straps. He pulls the shoes off your feet and without a word, he begins to massage your ankle that you rolled.

An involuntary moan falls from your lips at the feeling, his fingers working magic on your muscles. It’s easily the most pleasure you’ve ever felt and you wonder if he’s this talented with his fingers in other areas.

“Does that feel good?” He asks and you can just imagine him asking you the same question with his hand between your legs, his fingers pumping in and out as you moan over and over.

“Mhm,” you nod as he presses even harder into your skin, causing you to moan even louder and he’s trying his best to hide his hard on as he moves back ever so slightly, but it’s so obvious now, sticking straight out.

You need him to touch you now, your mind not even focused on your pain as all you can think about now is having his fingers inside you. You’re desperate for it now as he continues to massage your ankle. You’re focused on his touch, his soft skin against yours.

It’s torture to think about but you can’t help it. You want him, need him so bad that you feel like you could cry.

You grab him by the wrist and guide his hand towards your cunt as you spread your legs. His eyes widen and you can clearly see his pupils dilate as his hands grab hold of the waist band of your panties. He pulls them down as you spread your legs even wider, looking up at him with a flirty look.

Steve presses his his middle and ring fingers together before he brings them to your cunt slowly, looking you in the eye, giving you every opportunity to back out if this isn’t what you want.

As soon as his fingers slide inside, he knows he’s made the right choice as you moan again. He never thought he’d do this kind of thing with you, but now that he is, there’s no way he’s backing out. Watching you splayed out on the bed just for him, he feels like he’s in heaven.

His pumps are slow at first as he tries to get the hang of it, only using the tips of his fingers. But as he picks up the pace, he pushes in further with each pump, eating up the way you’re enjoying it.

You lie back flat, spreading your legs even wider, each knee pressing against the bed. As you lie back, he’s able to get a much better view of your sopping wet cunt as well as feeling it.

You’re so wet, and for him. He wonders if you’ve ever thought about him this way. If you’ve fantasized about the two of you in this position. He hasn’t. Not until tonight. And he’s kicking himself for just now realizing how hot you are. He’s always found you attractive, he has eyes, but never sexually.

Up until now, you’ve always been just a friend to him. But now he’s itching to get inside you, desperate to know what your lips look like, what you look like underneath your dress. He wants to rip it to shreds with his teeth until you’re in your underwear. He’ll then rip apart your bra until you’re naked underneath him, whining, begging for you to fuck him.

His fingers are pumping so hard and fast as you moan and whine, your nails digging into the bedding underneath you, not even trying to stifle the sounds you’re making considering that there are other people in the house, but it’s not like they can hear you anyway. The stereo is up too loud and they’re all too busy mingling.

You can feel your eyes rolling into the back of your head, on the verge of an orgasm. You feel his fingers curl, hitting just the right spot to make you climax, to make you feel better than you ever have in the bedroom.

He clearly knows what he’s doing as he curls his fingers again and again, making you moan over and over until you’re absolutely spent. Once he’s, he removes his fingers, licking up the slick from his fingers as his well deserved reward and now that he’s gotten a taste, he thinks he needs another, but this time directly from the source.

Steve looks down between your legs, his mouth watering as his need to get a taste of you intensifies. God, he wants it so bad, so desperate that he’s drooling, spit dribbling down his chin.

“Can’t believe this is all for me,” he tells you as his hands rest gently on your knees. You’re so wet now that it’s trailing down your thighs and before he can stop himself, Steve grabs hold of one of your thighs. He brings it to his mouth and licks the trail all the way up until he’s just inches from your cunt.

You gasp as he does this, but you can’t deny how good it feels, especially when he goes for another lick, his tongue leaving behind a stripe of spit as he does so. He then goes for your other thigh, doing the exact same thing, but going slower now, chuckling to himself as you squirm underneath him, begging for him to eat you out already.

“Alright, relax,” he tells you as he pulls away. He pushes you back down onto the mattress, keeping his hands on your shoulders as he leans in, his lips just inches from yours. You close your eyes, expecting a kiss, but when you open them, Steve’s on his knees again, grabbing hold of your thighs.

“Steve-” you sit up to look him in the eye, to show him how upset you are by his teasing.

“Yes, honey?” He asks, that mischievous glint in his eye as throws your legs onto his shoulders. You instantly melt at the nickname then lie back again. He’s got you right where he wants you and you know it. He still doesn’t seem to understand that you’d do anything he’d say because you’re just that much in love with him.

He buries his face into your cunt and you gasp as his mouth licks and sucks on your clit, your hands subconsciously sliding into his hair. He pushes your dress up to your waist as you push down into your cunt even more. Steve decides right there that if he’s going to die like this that it’s a pretty fucking good way to go.

You let up and tug on his hair instead as he continues to lick and suck on your clit. Your heels are digging into his back as your toes curl in pleasure. You’ve been eaten out before, but not like this, never like this.

He’s definitely done this before as he knows exactly what he’s doing, knows exactly how to make you feel good. His mouth moves down to your slit as he bites down, his teeth sliding across the sensitive skin as you moan, your nails digging into his scalp in response.

Your thighs press tightly against the side of his head as he continues with his teeth, biting down even harder, making you feel so good. He then goes back in with his tongue, needing yet another taste of you, desperate for it.

This is the best pussy he’s ever tasted and he’s fully content right now, deciding that he could do this for hours without getting tired. Especially with how you’re reacting to the whole thing.

Steve sticks his tongue inside you and that’s where you absolutely lose it. You’re coming again and he can your slick leaking out onto his tongue. It’s the sweetest thing, almost resembling candy and he can get enough as he swirls his tongue around, desperate for more.

You come one more time and he’s reluctant to remove himself from you, but he has to if he wants to continue. He pulls away from you as you orgasm one more time as sits back on his knees, watching you, thinking that you’re the most beautiful creature that ever was.

You reach out for him and he’s quick to take your hands, bringing himself down to hover over you. His lips hesitantly press against yours as his hands pin yours against the bed.

The kiss is messy, clumsy at first, but the two of you eventually get the hang of it as it becomes progressively more hungry, especially on your end. You need him. You need him in ways that are concerning. And if his rock hard cock is any indication, you think you’re going to get pretty lucky.

His tongue slides into your mouth as you move to untuck his shirt from his jeans. He parts from you only to let you slip it over his head and as soon as his shirt is on the floor, his lips are on yours again, even more hungry this time as he takes exactly what he wants from you.

Your hands move to his belt and unbuckle it quickly before moving on to the button of his jeans. Before he knows it, you’re unzipping them and pulling them as much as you can. Steve reaches into his pocket for a condom and tosses it to the side before finishing the job, tossing his jeans to the side, followed by his underwear.

You always knew he had a big dick, but now the proof is right in front of you. He’s so hard and all you want is to make him feel as good as he made you feel. You want to make him come over and over, to return to favor.

He then helps you sit up then reaches up and unzips your dress with ease, pulling it up over your head. It drops next to him as he stares at the pretty, black, lacy bra you’re wearing.

“God, you’re perfect,” he sighs as he stares at you, almost completely naked, and for him.

“You’re the perfect one,” you reply and Steve doesn’t know why he feels his cheeks heat. You’ve complimented so many times, but this time, it feels different. “Now c’mere,” you waved him over and he scoots closer as your hands cradle his face.

You press a kiss to his lips as you feel around the mattress for the condom. Once you have it in your hands, you push Steve onto the mattress before straddling his waist.

“Now it’s your turn to come,” you tell him as you rip the packet open with your teeth. Steve watches you roll the condom onto him then discard your bra before settling yourself onto his cock, not even giving him a chance to think before begin to ride him.

His hands move to your waist as his hips buck against yours, the two of you working together. He’s working harder than you are, pushing all of himself inside of you, or at least, trying to.

“Hey,” you tell him, taking on an authoritative tone and he immediately stops. “You don’t have to try so hard. Let me take care of you, okay?”

“Okay,” he nods then lies back, his fingers still digging into your waist as you pick it up again. He’s already moaning so you know you’ve gotten it right, already knowing what he likes.

You continue, moving even faster and his nails are digging so far into you that you’re sure that he’s going to break skin, but he quickly eases up, probably sensing that he’s hurting you.

“You sound so hot. Wanna make some more sounds for me?”

“Mhm,” he nods and he moans again as you lean over, your lips finding his once again, moving against his so softly which juxtaposes how you’re fucking him so hard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whines into your mouth, already feeling he’s close which is so embarrassing for him since you’ve barely started, but he can’t help it. You’re just fucking him so good that he doesn’t think he’s not going to be able to walk afterwards. And he doesn’t even care. He wants you to do whatever you want to him. He wants to be your good boy.

“I knew you liked it rough,” you laugh as you watch him come completely undone underneath you. He’s already coming and he can’t stop, his orgasm completely taking over his body.

“Fuck, so good,” he whines as you keep up, trying to get one last climax out of him before you get off, watching him come down from it as you hurry to get dressed, but he reaches out and grabs hold of your waist, stopping you from going any where.

He discards the condom then gets under the covers, holding the blanket up for you. You get in beside him and he pulls you to his chest, bare skin to bare skin as he drops a kiss to your forehead.

The two of you lay there in the quiet, his hands moving up and down your back while yours plays with his hair, the only sound that can be heard is your breathing as the two of you think about nothing except what you’ve just done.

“Do you think we could do this again tomorrow night?” He asks, breaking the silence.

“Definitely,” you nod.

“Do you think that we could do it as a couple?” You move that you’re hovering over him, trying to make sure that you hear him right. There have been too many times when your fantasies took over so now you want to be one hundred percent sure.

“What did you just say?” You ask, maybe a bit too harshly and now you’ve got Steve stammering.

“Well, I was wondering if it would be okay if I was your boyfriend. Is that a tacky thing to ask after sex? Because I-”

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his, smiling into the kiss as his hand moves up to cradle the back of your head, his smile mimicking yours as you pull away far too soon for his liking.

“So is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes,” you roll your eyes, giving him another kiss before lying back down on his chest.

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x y/n

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kaleidoscopewritings19 · 5 months ago

Text

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Title: Dreams of Her (PART 1)

PART 2

Warning(s): SMUT. MDNI. P in V, Oral, female receiving. Unprotected sex. 18+ Wrap it before you tap it.

Character(s): Joel Miller, Female X Reader, Sarah Miller mentioned, Mrs. Adler mentioned, and Ellie.

Everything italicized is a dream! Bold print = dialogue prompts. Credit for prompts @ the other woman-Emily.

The cool Wyoming air whipped through the open window, causing Joel to stir awake. He rubbed his face, trying to see what time it was. The old analog clock on his nightstand read 2:02 AM. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, and stared at the floor.

His body cracked and popped as he slowly stood up out of bed, and closed the window. The fully functional small town of Jackson was sound asleep; other than the men who had to take watch. It was hard to find sleep most nights, but Joel wanted nothing more than to rest his achy, tired body.

But before he could get back into bed, he had to check on Ellie. Never in a million years did he think he’d have the opportunity to live a (somewhat) normal life after the outbreak. He never thought he would get the chance to check on someone he cared about again.

The old wood door creaked as he peered around it, finding Ellie sound asleep at her window seat— uncovered. Joel quietly walked over and covered her shivering body with her comforter, and was able to leave without waking her.

Anytime he woke up, he couldn’t go back to bed until he checked around the house. He wasn’t afraid— he was just taking extra precautions.

After a quick scan throughout the house, Joel felt safe enough to crawl back into bed. No sooner than he pulled his blankets up, he was out. At night, memories would plague his dreams- especially the bad ones. However, tonight was one of the rare one’s where he dreamed of you.

Back in Austin, Joel had built a porch swing. Sarah had requested one be built for her to sit and swing on during the summer. Joel would do anything to make his daughter, his number one priority, happy.

It was May 24th of 2002 when Joel had finally decided to start on the porch swing; it would be built just in time for Sarah to have it for the first day of her summer break. She was at school and Joel had went to the hardware store and came back to the house to see you sitting on the porch steps.

You were wearing a yellow sundress, and your hair was curled and pinned back. Joel loved seeing you on his porch steps looking like a goddess.

When you seen him pull into the driveway, you had a big smile on your face. You jumped up from the porch steps and ran into his open arms. He pressed a kiss to your lips, “Hey there darlin’. Have ya been waitin’ long?” He questioned and you shook your head.

“Nope. I got here five minutes ago.” You said and he pulled you close into his body. Joel could still faintly smell your Vanilla perfume. “I love you in that dress.” He mumbled against your glossed lips.

You smiled up at him, “I don’t think your neighbor does. She asked me if I wanted to borrow one of her cardigans. Said there’s s’pose to be a cold spell coming soon.” Joel instantly knew what neighbor you were referring to— Mrs. Adler. He has had multiple conversations with her about you; most of them being about how young you were.

“Joel, she’s a little young don’t cha think?”

“People might think she’s your daughter.”

However, you were 22 years old, and he was 32 years old. That made you thirteen years older than Sarah, and ten years younger than him. But no matter how much he tried to explain to Mrs. Adler that you were much older than Sarah, she would still tell him,

“Now, Joel, that young lady is still wet behind the ears. You can’t expect her to stick around long—she’s young, and naive right now.” On multiple occasions, Mrs. Adler had tried to talk sense into you, but you never talked back and always respected what she had to say.

Joel admired you for that, and at times, you would try to gain the neighbors approval by helping her in the garden, or helping with her mother.

Joel couldn’t help but to smile, “I think she forgets this is Texas. We aren’t going to have a cold spell for a while.” He pulled a couple of sacks from the inside of the truck, and walked them over to the porch.

“What are you going to build, J?” You asked and Joel reached out for your hand.

“A porch swing for Sarah. She’s been beggin’ for one for awhile now.” He said as he led you up the steps, and pointed where the swing would go.

“Oh, she’ll love that! It would be the perfect spot to read a book, or to drink coffee in the morning.” You said as you sat on the porch banister. Joel’s right leg went in between your legs, and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

His hands held your waist, “That would be nice. A hot cup of coffee in the morning, or seeing you on it when I come home from work.” You smiled as his palm flatted against your bare thigh, and moved upwards under your dress. Joel shamelessly planted kisses along your jawline, and then traced down your neck. You shuddered as his lips delicately danced around the sensitive skin.

“Someone might see us, Joel..” you whispered as his finger tips traced your laced panties. “No one’s going to see us.” He murmured. His lips connected to yours, and your fingers tugged at his dark brown hair; this encouraged him to go even further.

Joel spread your legs just enough for him to slip a finger into your panties, and between your slick folds. A breathy moan escaped past your lips; this was music to Joel’s ears.

Before he could go any further, the squeaking sound of Mrs. Adler’s screen door made the two of you jump apart. If Joel wouldn’t have caught your leg, you would’ve fell in the bushes. “Hi Mrs. Adler!” He shouted and she waved at him.

“Just checking the mail! Don’t mind me!” She shouted back, and both you and Joel chuckled.

He helped you down from the banister and lead you into the quietness of his home. The Miller home was far from being fancy, but you always told him his home was more homey and comforting than yours.

Your father was some big time military General; he often lived in different countries while you and your mom stayed in Texas. But now he was home for the next couple of years, and you talked about how hard he could be on you. Your father expected big things from you, and that’s why you were studying to become a clinical psychologist.

Did your father know about him? Yes. Joel had met your father on a couple of occasions and he did not approve of Joel. Number one, ‘he was too old’. Number two, ‘he had a child’. And number three, ‘he was simply not good enough for you’. Despite your father’s wishes, you stayed with Joel.

It was hard to get alone time with Joel, because on weekends, school breaks, and any time after 3 PM, he was in full dad mode. Joel had told Sarah some stuff about you, but as far as she knew, you were just a good friend.

Joel closed the front door behind him, and you sat down on the arm of the couch. The cool leather against your skin made you shiver. Slowly, you pulled the pins from your hair, and beckoned him to come to you. The scent of your perfume drove him crazy; all he wanted to do was take you right then and there.

He knelt down in front of you, both hands running up and down your legs agonizingly slow. His dark brown eyes looked up through his lashes, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your knee, then up to your thigh.

Joel’s calloused hands rested on your thighs, and then without a notice, his fingers hooked under the thin lacy fabric of your panties. He slid them down your legs letting the air hit your wet core. A smile broke out across Joel’s face as he slid you closer to him, his head now underneath your dress. He pressed a kiss to the inner part of your thigh, and then pressed a gentle kiss to where you wanted him the most.

Your hands went to his hair as his tongue flattened and tasted you. When the tip of his tongue danced around your clit, it made you push yourself back from the sudden warmth of pleasure.

Joel pulled you down to sit on the couch rather than the arm of the piece of furniture; his face never left your core. His hands flattened against your thighs, and kept a strong grip on them; Joel didn’t want you to move an inch from his mouth.

“Oh, Joel.” You whimpered as his tongue delve into you.

There was one thing Joel loved more than having you on his cock, and it was tongue fucking you. Your breathing would turn into short breaths, and you would moan his name over and over like a sweet song. His thumb started massaging your clit in a circular motion, “I want you to finish baby.” He mumbled against your wet cunt.

When he realized that you weren’t getting close, he swirled his tongue around your clit. You squirmed underneath his hands but he held you still— bruises would surely form. Joel teased your clit, causing you to pull him closer into you.

Your body shook underneath his grasp and against his lips as he continued to lap up your juices. When you arched your back, Joel knew you were about to finish. “Joel, I’m about to..”

Before you could finish your sentence, Joel pulled away, lips glistening with you. He scooped you up off the couch bridal style, and took you up the stairs and into his room.

Joel sat you on the edge of his bed, his lips red and puffy from his previous activity. His left hand steadied himself on the bed while his right hand played with the spaghetti strap of your sundress.Your nose brushed against Joel’s, and his lips ghost over yours; the strap to your dress tickled down your arm, exposing your hard nipple to him.

His thumb and forefinger pinched and twisted the pebbled skin, and he connected his lips to yours. Your lips moved against his softly—during days like these, Joel preferred to take things slow. It was only 8AM, he had all the time in the world to make love to you. He pulled the other strap of your dress down, and started pulling your dress up over your hips. You pulled away from his lips, and quickly pulled his shirt over his head. Then you started working on unbuckling the belt from his jeans, “So impatient, darlin’.”

“I’m more than patient. You left me hangin’ downstairs.” You responded, and Joel stopped your hands.

“Watch the attitude, sweetheart. Don’t make me fuck it out of you.” his Texas accent laid the words on thick. His thumb tilted your chin back so he could look you in the eyes.

You smiled up at him, and continued to pull his jeans down. His cock was already throbbing from the site of you, and when your hand gently brushed over the bulge in his boxers, it twitched. With a devious smile, you pushed yourself back on the bed and spread your legs. Joel knew what you were doing; you were going to try to punish him for the little stunt he pulled downstairs.

Your hands trailed between your legs, and your fingers ran between your slick folds. He watched you intently, as you brought your fingers to your lips, tasting yourself. Joel groaned at the site in front of him. “Use your words, Joel. Tell me, what you want.” You teased, using the words he used to you in bed.

Joel chuckled, “I want you to keep doin’ what your doin’.” But you shook your head, “Not good enough, Joel. Tell me what you want me to do.”

His eyes darkened, “I want you to put your hand between your legs, and insert one finger at a time until I tell you to stop.” He commanded, he was slowly taking back control.

You obeyed his words, and your hand slowly traced from your stomach, down between your legs, gathering the wetness on your fingers.

Joel pulled down his boxers, his cock springing out. You drooled at the site of him standing in front of you, waiting for you to do what he said.

Languidly, you inserted one finger inside of yourself, and slowly pulled it in and out of you. Joel took his cock in his hands and started pumping himself as you added a second finger.

When you added a third finger, the idea of taking things slow was left behind. Joel crawled across the bed, and pushed you down into the mattress. He hovered over your body, and pressed a bruising kiss to your lips. Your dress was discarded as Joel sat up.

He pulled you by your calves and angled you up, “Look at that pussy. So wet for me.” Joel guided his cock to your entrance, teasing your clit with the tip. You could feel the warmth of pre-cum rub against you, “Oh Joel…” you whimpered.

“I love it when you whimper my name.” He said as he pushed the tip into your tight cunt. A groan escaped past his lips, “So fuckin’ tight.”

His cock pushed deeper inside you. With every push, your grip tightened on his forearms, and your legs trembled in his hands.

You released your grasp on his forearms, and started massaging your breasts; it was something Joel loved to see you do while he fucked you senseless.

The stretch around his cock stung, but when he looked at you for confirmation to move, you gave him a small nod. Slowly, his hips rocked up into you, and his gaze was fixed upon you. Joel’s pace had quickened, and the squelching sounds of your pussy suctioning to him was erotic; it fed fuel to the fire that was burning between you two.

“I love watching you take in every inch of my cock into that perfect body.” He groaned as he watched himself go in and out of you.

When he gazed back up at you, your eyes were closed tight, lost in pure euphoria. He released your legs, and spread them further apart, so he could move between them.

His body hovered over yours, and he pressed a kiss to your lips. Your eyes fluttered opened as his cock rested inside you, and he kissed along your neck and back to your jawline.

“Please, don’t stop.” You whimpered and Joel resumed back to thrusting into you. Your mouth gaped as Joel sucked on your neck, surely leaving a hickey behind.

“Everyone is gonna know who you belong to.” He mumbled, and his pace started to slow down. “I want you to finish on my cock, baby.” He whispered into your ear.

Joel could feel you tighten around his pulsating cock, and when a lewd sound left your lips, he knew you were chasing your high. “Come for me.” He whispered and you were shaking underneath him. His lips connected to yours as he spilled inside of you; he rocked into you until he couldn’t anymore.

With his free hand, he pushed back a strand of hair that was stuck to your forehead. He pulled out of you and pulled the bed sheet to cover your naked bodies. When he laid back into the pillows, you moved over and rested your head above his heart.

Joel pulled you close into his body and he caressed your back, his fingers gingerly touching you.

The two of you laid there in silence, looking over at the breeze that was moving the curtain back and forth. “I miss you.” You whispered, and Joel’s fingers froze over your shoulder blade.

“Darlin’, I’m right here.” He said. You sat up on your elbow so you could look him in the eyes.

“I miss you so much my heart hurts.” Tears filled your eyes and Joel sat up. “I didn’t want to go with him, I- I wanted to go with you. It wasn’t my choice, my father said we would come back for you, and we- we didn’t.” You sobbed.

Joel stared at you in bewilderment, “What are you talkin’ about, Y/N?”

“He took me away from you the night of the outbreak. Don’t you remember Joel? I was with you, Tommy, and Sarah. I was there when they shot her. I was there when you cradled her body. Did you know my father shot me on command?”

Joel woke up and he gasped for air. He looked towards the right side of his bed where you should have been, but the space was empty. His heart pounded in his chest, and all he could do was stare at the empty side of his bed.

The sun was shining through a space in the curtain, and he looked over at his clock: 8:01 AM. He rubbed his face as he stepped out of bed and opened his night stand.

Joel was only able to save a few pictures; a couple of Sarah and then a photo of you from the day you wore that yellow sundress. You were sitting on the new porch swing and Joel was right next to you, his arm slung around your shoulders, watching you smile at the camera. In the photograph, he was smiling at you smiling, and he was glad Mrs. Adler caught this moment.

The dreams he had of you, never ended like that. He often wondered where you were, or what happened to you. Joel knew your father would have protected you over anyone else, and he hoped you were still alive and thriving.

Regardless of what was going on in this apocalyptic world, when he thought of you, he hoped you were safe. Sometimes, when Joel found himself alone and it was quiet, he would pray that you were out there alive, and that your paths would cross.

He took the picture downstairs with him as he fixed himself a cup of coffee. The photo was worn and faded; the back was yellowed, but in black ink, he could still read your words.

“Joel, you are the best thing that has ever happened to me. I love you. Forever and Always, Y/N.”

Ellie came up behind him to pull a cup out of the cupboard. “Who’s that?” She asked and Joel looked down at your smiling face.

“She’s a story for another time.” He said with a sad, small smile. Ellie stared at the picture on the counter, but she knew better than to pester Joel about it.

You were one of the last things he had that was good. The idea of keeping you to himself, made him feel like you were still alive. Saying what happened that night out loud, made him believe otherwise.

Joel picked up the picture and placed it in the pocket of his shirt, that rested above his heart. Maybe one day, your paths would cross.

I don’t know how to feel about this one. I’m semi-comfortable with writing smut, but I fear I’m not GOOD at it. I was nervous to post this, but oh well. 👀Part 2 maybe? Or should we end it here? Thank for reading! Comments, likes, and reboots are always welcomed and appreciated!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel tlou #joel miller #the last of us hbo #the last of us #pedro pascal

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