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notjustjavierpena · 2 months

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Swelter

A/N: This happened because the SAG Awards made me horny. I have no other explanation for my behavior, no other defence. Maybe that I was listening to ur dad by VIAL. Obviously also a huge thanks to @strang3lov3 for being the cutest love bug I know, and for putting up with my brainstorming sessions.

Summary: You have a crush on Sarah’s father. It is summer, it is hot, and you just want a cold drink.

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, best friend’s dad, significant age gap (reader is 19-22, Joel is in his mid-40s), SEXUAL TENSION, bee stings, groping, voyeur to some degree, f masturbation, dirty talk, an endless amount of pet names, sexy play with a soda can, praise kink, car sex, daddy kink, fingering, unprotected piv sex, joel’s cock is huge in this, creampie, premature ejaculation, pussy eating, come eating, squirting

Word count: 6.8k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54233479

Swelter

A warm Texas breeze blows through the open window of Sarah’s childhood room, making the see-through pink curtains move elegantly from side to side. It hits your back right underneath your halter neck as you lay on Sarah’s bed, caressing your bare skin and making you think of him. You wonder if his hands would have the same effect on you because you find yourself shivering but not from feeling cold. He is somewhere here, and his daughter doesn’t even know that her best friend obsesses about that fact.

Sarah hasn’t changed her room since she was a teenager. She told you this the first time she brought you here, which is almost a year ago today. You were here last summer too, thrilled to be invited to spend a few weeks of your summer with a friend from college and you and her have been inseparable ever since, even if you are so different from each other.

You have your face in a woman’s magazine, propped up on your elbows so you can suck on a popsicle stick whilst turning the pages. There’s a page with the recipe for ‘The Best Fudgy Chocolate Cake Ever!’ next to a page on how to lose weight, and it makes you snort.

“What?” Sarah turns on her chair, pausing the video on her computer.

“What kinda woman are you? You can choose one, but only one. Don’t get greedy now!” You make a scratchy voice but then pop your ice pop in your mouth to hold up the magazine for her to see.

“Seriously? We can’t win,” she groans dramatically, “Chocolate cake always. I just want to be happy, and that looks like a serotonin boost.”

Suddenly, the door opens without any warning. It’s him. Mr. Miller. You quickly remove the popsicle from your mouth, not about to show him how your lips are stretched around the sugary snack. The open door causes a draft to blow the smell of his cologne your way, and it is intoxicating beyond your imagination because you relish in it in secret.

“Dad,” Sarah says with exasperation, “I thought being an adult earned you the privilege of more privacy.”

“It’s gettin’ colder outside now,” he states and ignores her comment, hand resting on the doorknob, “The Adlers need Mercy to be walked, and the pavement’s coolin’ down.”

“I walked him when I was fourteen,” she furrows her brow and you suppress a snicker, “I’m twenty.”

“Just ‘cause you’re grown, don’t mean you can’t do right by ‘em,” he states matter-of-factly.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you say from your spot on the bed as Sarah fumes quietly, absentmindedly reaching to pull the short skirt of your dress down. He can probably see the start of your ass from how it has been riding up as you lay down on the sheets.

“Hiya darlin’,” he replies and you swear you can hear a restrained sound in his voice. He turns to Sarah again, “Get your butt off that chair.”

“Fine,” she follows through on her orders but still wants to argue, probably embarrassed at being ordered around by her father in front of her friend. She gestures to you, “And what about my guest?”

“She’s grown too, which means she can probably entertain herself the half hour you’ll be gone,” he dares wink at you, and blood courses through your veins.

“I’ll just get that assignment done while you’re out,” you reassure and try not to seem like your core is shaking.

“See?” Joel looks triumphant.

“You’d make a hell of a lawyer,” she deadpans at her father and walks past him.

When he closes the door and leaves you alone in the bedroom, you can feel your popsicle having melted, its syrupy water running down your fingers. You switch hands and suck the sticky fingers into your mouth. The action makes Mr. Miller’s image flash in your mind and you press your thighs together before getting up and finding your laptop.

You find that it’s near impossible to concentrate on proofreading your assignment in the tiny bedroom after just five minutes of being alone. It’s not that you can’t concentrate in the Summer heat but no matter what you do, your mind keeps circling back to Joel’s voice as he called you darling. It heats you more than the sun ever could, and with every tap on your keyboard, your mouth gets more and more dry.

Eventually, you push yourself to stand from your seat at the desk and make a decision to go fetch something to drink, and it is definitely not with the intention of accidentally bumping into Sarah’s father. Not even when you do not find Joel in the kitchen and decide to bypass it altogether to continue into the garage in hopes of being successful in your search for a drink (obviously).

This infatuation started last year. It took you about ten seconds - from walking into the kitchen and shaking Joel’s hand - to realize that Sarah was cursed with having him as a father. Firstly, he was outrageously handsome; always wearing washed-out t-shirts that clung to his shoulders, always smiling with teeth, sporting salt-and-pepper curls, and sometimes even shocking you by entering the kitchen with working gloves on. However, when he opened his mouth and spoke, a southern drawl dripped from his lips and made your whole body tense up. He was charming, respectful, and laughed at the right moments. Most importantly, he laughed at every damn attempt that you made at being funny, and while it was probably an attempt to be nice and make you feel at home, it spurred you on terribly to win him over at every opportunity.

Despite all that, those opportunities weren’t many. He was also cool enough to know that his daughter didn’t want him hanging around all the time, and so he spent many days either in the garden to mow the lawn in competition with the rest of the fathers down the street, in the garage to fix up some old truck, or with his brother, Tommy, and Tommy’s wife who always had some DIY-project going on.

Thus, the summer became one of tanning sessions in the garden, movies in Sarah’s room, stolen glances at Joel Miller whenever he came inside to quench his thirst after hard labor, and secret longing whenever he had kept away for too long.

One particular day last year, Sarah had failed to mention that her father would be home most of the last days you were in their house, and because he was always out, you were getting more and more comfortable with walking around in your towels post-showers or leaving the door unlocked when changing.

The particular event had happened in the morning when the house had been silent except for the kitchen where Sarah was preparing breakfast, using a large box of pancake mix and the whole fruit section of the local grocery store for topping. You had just showered, standing with your head in your suitcase to search for the last few pieces of clothing you had that were clean when there was a rap on the door and a pull of the handle not even a second later.

“Sarah, I need—“

You whipped around at the sound of a new voice entering the room. Your heart nearly burst out of your chest, feeling as though it was fighting its way out between your ribs as embarrassment began to flood your system. Even so, you stood too frozen to reach for something to cover yourself up.

Joel was in the doorway and dead silent, looking as if struck by lightning. Like earlier today, his hand had been resting on the doorknob and in the painfully short moment that the both of you were processing the situation, you saw that his grip tightened enough to whiten his knuckles.

And then it happened, the thing that had soaked you in forbidden desire and delicious excitement; his gaze had flickered down your body and taken you in for the briefest of seconds. His gaze had traveled from the hard peaks of your nipples to the shape of your hips and the softness of your young cunt.

“Fuck,” you heard him utter as he remembered himself and his self-awareness made you finally grab the top you were going to be wearing that day to cover up your quivering body. He slammed the door shut and spoke through it, “Christ, ’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Miller,” you promised but he was already gone. You immediately locked the door afterward to come so hard with two fingers on your clit that you had to hold onto the chair by the desk.

God, you want him to look at you like that again, want to tell him it is all for him. Now, as wrong as you know it is, you find yourself searching for an excuse to get him to ogle you and the chances are higher if he actually spends time with you.

“Hi, Mr. Miller,” you announce yourself as you enter the garage through the door in the kitchen. Joel has his head inside the hood of his truck, leaning over to inspect something that you wouldn’t understand anything about anyway. He grips the front side of the engine room to push himself to stand, closes the top of the hood of his truck, and turns around to face you.

“Hey kiddo,” he returns with a smile, “How many times do I gotta say to ya that it’s just Joel?”

“Alright, Mr. Miller,” you tease, “—I mean, Just Joel.”

You hear him laugh softly but you don’t dare look at him, afraid that you’ll spontaneously combust. He goes to the utility sink to wash his hands, saying nothing more and making you feel insane for coming apart in the silence.

“I’m just getting something to drink,” you explain when it becomes too much, “Sarah’s room is boiling hot.”

“That’s fine, take what you’d like,” he replies, and there’s a kind teasing in his voice. “But don’t touch the orange sodas. Those are mine.”

The concrete floor of the garage is cold on your bare feet as you pad across the floor where an old bottom-freezer refrigerator stands in the corner, humming in the otherwise quiet room. It has seen better days, and it seems like Sarah has tried to cheer up its weathered appearance by covering it in stickers and ugly magnets.

“Now I have to get one of those,” you giggle and pull the door open, scanning the contents and noticing that the sodas are on the bottom shelf. You hesitate for just a second, and then you choose to bend over instead of crouching down. Behind you, Joel Miller is completely silent.

In the beginning, it hadn’t been your intention to let the crush fester in your brain and turn it into something more but last week, during dinner out on the terrace, you had accidentally sat down on a bee and gotten stung on the back of your thigh. The cry you had let out had nearly made Joel tip over the table to get to you, his chair falling backward as he got up from his seat.

“Fuck! Ow ow ow!” You cried and hobbled around on the grass. The pain was unbearable but the shock only seemed to make it worse.

“Sarah, please get some ice and some antihistamines. There should be a bottle on my nightstand,” Joel ordered quickly and she rushed inside. He walked toward you, grabbing at your shoulders to ground you but his touch only heightened all other sensations. He dug his thumbs into you and your head swam, “Sweetheart, ‘tis just a bee, shh, calm down. I need to remove the stinger. Lemme see ya.”

“It really fucking hurts, Mr. Miller,” you said with a whine as he guided you to one of the loungers that Sarah and you had dragged out from the shed earlier that week.

“I know,” he finally let go of you so you could think just a bit more clearly, “Lemme take a look. Lie down on your front.”

You followed orders with the realization of how much you trusted his judgment, that he would treat you right, moving carefully because the flex of your thigh muscle was making the pain worse. The wooden lounger burned slightly against the front of your thighs, and you pressed your cheek into its slats while screwing your eyes shut.

The wood creaked behind you as he knelt on it with one knee and suddenly, his broad hand was perched on the top of your thigh in an attempt to keep your skin taut. You sucked in a breath but he only mistook it for more pain.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I can see it,” his breath was slightly quicker but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions, “He really got ya right on your inner thigh. Hold on.”

Your eyes shot open when his thumb ran towards the innermost part of the back of your thigh, a sort of panicked arousal spiking from your chest and thighs. He paused for a second then murmured something, a swear word that you tried to take as frustration. There was a beat but then he cleared his throat, “Can you bend your leg a little? I wanna make sure that I get it on the first try.”

“How?” You asked stupidly. The image of how he would be looming over your backside made your heartbeat go down between your legs, “My dress’ll ride up.”

“Just bend the knee a little, pull it towards your chest,” he explained and cleared his throat once more, “On my life, I won’t look.”

So you did as he told you, and sure enough, your dress betrayed you by crawling slowly up to sit around your hip instead of the middle part of your thigh. You looked back at him when he started picking at the stinger with his nails, and you hoped that he would not notice your gawking at his concentrated expression.

A flash of the day he had barged in on you naked flashed in your mind because his eyes were so focused on not staring at you that you nearly whimpered when you saw his eyes flicker to the spot of dampness between your legs for no more than a second.

You had worn white cotton panties that day so they would not be seen through your dress. They were straining against your pussy in this position and all he had to do was reach out, and he’d find your clit poking against the fabric from how excited you were feeling.

He had had the perfect outline of your cunt, and it’s the same now as you bend over to get to the very bottom of the fridge, reaching for a cold drink that just happens to be his favorite. You know that he can see everything, and the worst is that you know he already has. Twice. The mere thought is so dirty that your heart starts pounding in your chest and sends heat through your already hot body, so you hurry to stretch to your full height again.

With a cocky grin that is mostly put on to hide your anxious excitement about what you have just done, you turn to face Joel and walk to stand in front of him and his car. His cologne fills your nostrils again, and the scent seems once again to have a direct line to your cunt because you have never felt more empty. In front of you, Joel’s jaw is clenched but other than that, he seems a lot more calm and composed than you.

That is until you jump onto the hood of the car and scoot back, letting your bare feet dangle out over the edge. You crack open the soda in your hand and take a sip that is a little longer than intended. The satisfying burn of the fizz grounds you in the warm climate, but it is even more heavenly as you tuck the skirt of your dress between your thighs so you can place the cold can there.

Joel shakes his head with a sigh but you know he is playing a game as much as you because he cannot help but crack a smile back at you, “You’re trouble, I knew it the second Sarah brought ya into my house.”

“Oh, whatever will I do?” You ask dramatically and lean back against the windshield.

“Go morally bankrupt?” He raises a brow. If only he knew what is going through your mind. You catch him looking at you in the fashion that you have craved when you sigh deeply and cause your chest to push out.

“Only that?” You take another sip and some of the contents spill down your chin in a thick, sticky trail due to the angle you’re sitting in. You reach up to wipe it away with your index finger and then dare to suck your finger clean with the intention of mimicking the way that you had licked it clean earlier when it had been coated in melted popsicle.

“Give it here,” he says. You lock eyes with him. However, your eyes widen slightly when he nods at the can and takes it from between your thighs. There’s electricity shooting through your nerves the second his fingers touch the fabric of your dress but they intensify to a dizzying degree when he takes a sip of the soda too.

Like a reflex, the sight of him drinking from the can that’s been nestled between your thighs makes your legs fall out to the sides. You’re worse than an obedient dog in your horniness, reacting the same way to the way he moves as it would to the sound of a bell ringing.

Your dress rides up slowly along your thighs, revealing your sweaty skin that feels sticky by now and Joel clears his throat after briefly looking down. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and when you realize the effect it has on the poor man, you grab the hem and pull upwards, “It’s so hot outside today. Don’t think I’ll ever get used to the heat here in Texas.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says and his face has got a pinker tint, pulse visible on the side of his neck. With his free hand, he grabs one of your knees and starts nudging your legs together again. He yanks your skirt down, “I know I’m always teasin’ ya but you can’t be doing this.”

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you say with exasperation and move your legs out again, “It’s just very hot… and it’s not like you haven’t had a peek.”

“Hey now,” he leans forward to place the can of soda on the roof of the truck, “That ain’t a fair accusation.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” you reply, chewing on your bottom lip, “But you’re not denying it.”

“Don’t tryna make me look like the pervert here,” he scolds, taking a step towards you and causing your stomach to do somersaults, “I noticed the way you went real quiet when my hands were on you.”

“What do you mean?” You furrow your brows in confusion, “Your hands were never on m–”

“Did that bee sting really hurt that much?” He clarifies. Oh, you think whilst he smirks with triumph. Something has switched in the air surrounding you, the atmosphere has become more daring, “Yeah, I saw her; your pussy wet f’me.”

It’s true. If you think about it too much, you can still feel your heartbeat in the places where he touched you, and the pulse is rapid and overwhelming. You can’t imagine what it'll be like if he touches you underneath your dress, even if it’s simply on the outside of your panties. The thought has your underwear starting to dampen, the fabric starting to stick to you, and make you painfully aware of the wetness between your legs.

“Did ya touch yourself after?” His eyes have darkened slightly. His pupils are dilating with desire for your answer, and you nod hesitantly, overwhelmed by the need to tell him everything.

“During my shower that you told me to take,” you confess and hear him make a sound low in his throat at the mental image, “I couldn’t stop myself— I wanted you so badly. The thought of you inside me...”

This is a crossroad, you realize, you’ve said your deepest secret of depravity. On one hand, you can bolt out the door or you can make a move to show him what you really came down here for. The latter is risky but Joel is so goddamn decent that you know that if he doesn’t want this - which you doubt is the case at this point - he’ll gently reject you and never mention it again if it means that his daughter will continue having a best friend.

However, as your mind races with scenarios of what could or could not happen in this moment, Joel pulls you back into reality as his hand, cold from gripping the can, rests on your knee again but this time, it doesn’t try to make you decent like before. Instead, it slides up under your skirt in such a slow motion that you find yourself holding your breath.

“Is this what’ll quiet down that mind of yours?” He asks in a low voice, eyes flickering from your face to down between your legs and back again, “If I take a peek more to get it outta our system?”

“What are you doing?” You ask as if you do not know. It’s your turn to be scandalized by bluntness, and you find yourself gripping his arm but not hard enough to signal that you do not want him to continue. You hope that he realizes that this is not you rejecting his advances.

“I ain’t doing nothin’ that you haven’t already silently begged me to do. Perhaps sometimes - and God help me, I will probably regret it - you just needa follow your instincts when a pretty girl like you has been sendin’ me heart eyes all week,” he almost sounds annoyed with you, and to stop yourself from being scolded, your hand loosens its grip on him until you remove it altogether. He smiles, “Good girl.”

“You shouldn’t—“ you feel a rush of blood to your head, adrenaline kicking in as your thoughts circle around the repercussions that this can bring. In all honesty, you had only walked in here to have Joel’s eyes on you but now, you are getting more than you bargained for and it is making you so turned on that your mind is clear and foggy at the same time. Boldly, you sit up on the car’s hood so you can reach for the buckle of Joel’s belt, “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“You’re damn right we shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he agrees immediately but doesn’t stop. His warm and rough palms skim further up your thighs until they settle by your hips, his thumbs teasing the elastic band of your panties. He starts to drag them down, the fabric nearly snapping in two when you barely register that you have to lift your ass to help him.

His fingers unintentionally caress your calves as he slides the underwear down to eventually pull them off your ankles and feet. The sensation makes your body wake up even more, a gush of wetness smearing your inner thighs and you know that you have to pull your dress up soon if you don’t want it stained.

In front of you, Joel reads your mind. He shoves the hem of your dress up as far as he can without a word with desperation in his trembling hands, and you move to let him bunch it up around your waist so he has a full view of what waits - and for long has waited - for him.

When your cunt is revealed to him, he groans like he is in pain at the sight of the slick shining on your soft youthful skin. You can see how hard he is in his jeans, cock straining against the zipper at the front of them.

He looks like he wants to touch but hesitates. The first sign of his inner conflict. You remember that he did say just a peek as if there’s an unspoken agreement that he is not to cross the line of touching what he shouldn’t want to have. It would definitely be a nuclear decision if he chooses to do it anyway. It makes you want it even more, and another gush spills from your glistening slit when you clench from excitement.

Joel swears under his breath, something that sounds like fuck it and it sets it in stone; he is going to ruin you for eternity right here on his car. He steps closer until your spread knees bump into his sides, and without saying anything you move to yank his jeans and briefs down, settling them around his hips with a soft gasp as you take in the sight of his fully hard cock. He is huge. So huge that your mouth starts salivating like you’ve already been fucked stupid and your walls try to clamp down on nothing. It’ll hurt. You want it to if it means that you won’t doubt if it ever happened tomorrow.

“Tell me you want this too,” he seeks your reassurance.

“So fucking badly, Mr. Miller— Joel,” you say without any hint of second-guessing in your voice. You scoot further forward on the car and lean back so he has better access, trying your best to be elegant in your messy state, “Please, want you in me.”

“Jeez, honey,” his breath shakes, “Already so eager. I haven’t even felt if she’s ready f’me.”

With one hand gripping your left thigh, he uses two fingers on his right hand to slide through your wet folds and you don’t think you have ever been this turned on for anyone; when he flips his palm upwards and shoves two fingers inside of you, you feel more arousal drip from your cunt and pool in his hand. The longing you have felt since you saw him for the first time finds somewhere to empty all its desire and desperation into, and you whine like you’re in a state of agony.

“Shhh…” he soothes and curls his digits inside of you until you think you might start crying, squelching cunt trying to pull him further into you as he fingers you lazily. Your gaze drops to how his cock twitches whilst standing in the air, “You’re grippin’ me so good, doll, can’t wait to fuck this pussy. Don’t cry like that. Be patient.”

“Please, I’m so—“ your palms are flat on the hood of the car, your mouth hangs open in ecstasy and you stare down at where his ring- and middle finger disappears repeatedly into you, “It’s yours, please.”

“I know it’s mine, don’t gotta say it, I know,” he coos at each of your whimpers, gets you worked up until you are just on the brink of coming, and then he moves quickly. He pulls his fingers out of you, smears his cock with what you’ve soaked his whole palm with, and leans over your gasping frame to nudge at your quivering hole.

When he finally enters you, the both of you gasp in unison. He struggles with it for a moment, rubbing the skin just below your belly button to make you relax because he is so much bigger than you had first anticipated, and such a tight fit that you think he might split you in two.

“Goddamn, you are tight,” he says through gritted teeth, “Feels fuckin’ amazin’.”

“Ah,” you feel like letting yourself turn into a drooling mess already, pulsating around him from the way your body struggles to take him, “Joel, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can, honey,” he encourages, showing no signs of pulling out of you to free you from the burn of his girth. He growls low in his throat as you struggle with it, and you know it’s because your walls are clenching around him as you involuntarily move, “Stay still, let her get used to it.”

“It hurts,” you whine, sliding slightly on the metal underneath your ass. He presses his hips forward even further and causes you to whimper but in doing so, he holds you firmly in place by using his strong frame.

“I know but ya just gotta relax,” he goes on. He places one hand flat on the hood of the car and then places the other right on your hip, thumb going inwards to find your clit. It pulses under his finger, trying to find out whether to find the pain delicious or not.

When his thumb starts going in circles on you, your thigh muscles start to twitch and flex from burning desire instead of uncomfortable pain. He presses down a little to stroke your sensitive nub with even more determination and smiles at his success when a moan slips from your mouth, “That’s it, honey. Just enjoy this until you’re creamin’ on me, and then I can fuck her real good.”

Your walls start to flutter a few seconds after the first new round of pleasurable sounds leave you, and the more his finger moves on you, the easier it gets to take him because the pain turns into nothing more than a dull ache in the background of ecstasy. He has you breathing faster and faster, and in return, he starts moving his thumb up and down to make his touches more direct.

God, your clit is hardening underneath his torment. He stares at what he is doing, an occasional grunt leaving him from how you involuntarily squeeze his length, and you know that he can sense it, suddenly smirking to himself as you near your climax. He admires the sight of you, eyes glued to the way the hood of your clit has drawn back, “Babydoll, look at that. Such a pretty pussy, clit peekin’ out and all. Does she wanna come on my cock?”

“Please, yes, oh please,” you nod repeatedly, mouth hanging open in an o-shape and breaths coming out in small puffs. Your climax is within reach, and Joel looks concentrated as he more than willingly hands it over to you whilst buried deep inside of you. The concentration on his face is probably from keeping himself from spilling inside of you too soon, but God, he looks gorgeous as he determinedly strokes your cunt.

“Yes, yes, yesyesyes— oh God, I’m… fuck, I’m coming!” You shake with pleasure as he causes your pussy to spasm, your hands barely able to find out what to do and making you grab at both the metal underneath you with one hand and his wrist with the other. Your eyes are squeezed shut but you do not doubt that he is staring at you in awe as you come so hard that reality fades.

“Good girl,” he rasps, voice unsteady and hand hitting the hood of the car as the feeling becomes overwhelming, “Oh sweetheart, you’re choking my dick so g—“

He swears quietly and then loudly, and suddenly, his cool demeanor crumbles because he is spilling his load inside of you with a pathetic and strained grunt. His hips stutter slightly and warmth spreads slowly inside of you, mixing with your own arousal.

You look down to where the two of you are connected, feeling fucked out despite not even having had the chance to feel him move inside of you. His come has started to spill from you already, dripping obscenely from your cunt.

“Fuck,” you hear Joel say above you. He slips out of you and leaves you gaping and mewling for a second, starting to take a step back. You catch him with your legs before he is too far away, and he reluctantly steps close to you again. He looks embarrassed but gives you a smile to hide it, “Felt too good, honey. This pussy’s makin’ me all sweet on you.”

“I’m that irresistible?” You grin in your post-orgasmic haze, not really giving a crap about the lack of a proper fuck from how much dopamine is coursing through your veins.

Joel takes hold of your thighs as they are wrapped around your body and lifts them off of himself, “You’re makin’ an old bastard like me weak in the knees, so maybe. Hah! Comin’ too soon like a goddamn teenager.”

“I liked it,” you admit without hesitation, still basking in the sweet afterglow, “Made me feel sexy and powerful.”

He scoffs but can’t fight the smile on his face, “Now now, don’t get cocky on me. Crawl back a little, spread ya legs f’me.”

You giggle and do as you are told, presenting yourself to him on the hood of his car. You plant your bare feet on the metal, lay back against the windshield, and smile.

“Now look at that,” he tuts as he admires his work; white ropes of come dripping down from your slit and onto the surface beneath you. He lays both hands flat on the car and leans forward, and before you know it, his mouth is covering your whole cunt and he eats from you like he’s paid to do it.

“Jesus,” you groan, throwing your head back and grabbing onto the roof of the car with one hand whilst the other finds Joel’s hair. You tug and he moans against you, sending vibrations through your whole lower body and beginning the first stirrings of another high. You don’t think that you can take it, squirming just like you had done moments earlier.

Joel makes a sound of disapproval. He scoops his arms under your thighs until he can lay his hands on top of them, holding you tightly against his mouth and causing you to cry towards the ceiling when he makes your second orgasm approach so quickly that nothing in your brain makes sense except what he is doing between your legs.

The hand on the roof of his car goes to his head too. You slide your fingers on both hands through his hair until they lay at the back of his neck, and then you yank once more at the curls there. His tongue works at your clit, swiping back and forth over it until you think that you might see God.

However, it doesn’t stay there. Instead, it is replaced by his nose so that he can eat his own spill straight from you by dipping his tongue hungrily inside of you.

“Joel— holy fuck, you’re incredible,” you close your eyes to concentrate on your pleasure. Who knew that the man could fuck with his tongue? He is warm and wet inside of you, slurping pornographically until you are clean of any remains of his come.

You are just about to finish a second time when he halts whatever he is doing. He pulls back only a few inches so you can still feel his uneven breaths against your cunt.

“No! Please,” your eyes fly open, you cry desperately, and throw your head forward dramatically. You want to thrash but he still has your legs locked in his arms, so you decide to pull out the big guns and hope for the best, “Please, Daddy! Pleasepleaseplea—“

“What the fuck did you just say t’me?” He looks up at you but you are too busy screwing your eyes shut in agony whilst whining for more. He growls and releases one of your legs, “I was already gonna make you a happy young lady but now, I’m gonna make you come so hard your little brain goes dumb. See how it feels. Impatient girl.”

His hand goes between your legs. He turns his palm upwards and then shoves two thick fingers inside of your pussy like earlier, curling them slightly and then pumping them so quickly that blood starts speeding through your system a second after and your heart rate goes so fast that you know that you are just about to come.

“Joel, oh my— fuck!” You whimper.

“Wrong word,” he replies.

You correct yourself immediately because there’s no way he is stopping again to chastise you once more, “Daddy, oh I— mhmm, I’m gonna come for you. Don’t stop, please, please Daddy, pleasepleaseplea—!”

He responds just how you had liked: He closes his mouth around your swollen clit and sucks hard, finally severing all connection to your brain and you come so hard that you actually squeal. Joel groans against you, feeling you squeeze the digits he has buried deep inside you. He draws back his fingers, pressing upwards the whole way.

Clear liquid squirts from you the second he pulls them out. The gushes that follow are so intense that the leg he isn’t holding anymore shakes so violently that the metal rattles under you, the car staining with your come. He repeats the move again and again, over and over, and watches the steady trickle down the hood and onto the concrete floor that turns a dark gray.

Euphoria courses through your being as you come in a way that you have never felt before. Your limbs tingle as warmth spreads out from beneath your belly button, your cunt pulses with eager pleasure, and you sob through the waves that crash over you without giving you time to recover from the last. The whole room feels brighter and its colors more vibrant.

“Shh, baby, let it happen, feels so good, don’t it? That’s it,” Joel coos at you the whole way through, guides you through it when you barely know how to use your words. He has straightened to his full height again but you don’t know when, and he has slowed his fingers down to tease out a few aftershocks. You whimper feebly at each one, and when Joel seems satisfied with what he has drawn out of you, he covers your whole mound with his palm to soothe the feeling of overstimulation that settles.

“Soundproof,” he mutters, once again reading your mind when you come to your senses again and start thinking about your noise levels with furrowed brows and eyes flitting from him to the garage door. Your heartbeat has started to slow again, and the relief of knowing no one has been able to hear you makes you slump against the windshield and breathe deeply.

The remnants of your orgasm have made you smile, your body slipping into a deep state of satisfaction when the anxieties have been dispelled. Joel moves his hand up your lower body until it settles between your breasts, still covered by your dress. He caresses your heaving chest, looking at you boyishly for the first time, “You good? Didn’t cause any brain damage, did I?”

“You think this truck has ever seen action like that before?” You joke breathlessly.

“Probably ain’t the first time I disappointed a gorgeous lady in its presence,” he says with an apologetic smile, “Sorry ‘bout that.”

“Disappointed? You’re insane,” you stretch your arms above your head to get some of the last bits of euphoria out of your body, trying to ignore the way he has just called you a gorgeous lady. He probably means nothing by it. As your stretch peaks, you moan gently, “I came two times. Hard. I’m not complaining.”

“Just saying that I woulda liked to do it… properly, I guess,” he talks as he stuffs himself back into his underwear and pants, most likely trying to feel the least uncomfortable about mentioning his overexcitement. Automatically, he steps back when you jump off the car to adjust your dress.

“This doesn’t have to be a one-time thing,” you try to act casual as you say it but there’s no way you are accepting the best sex of your life to be a thing you will never have again, reducing it to a movie merely playing behind your eyelids as a cruel reminder of what is unattainable.

“And when would we have time for that?” He asks, zipping up his jeans. He wipes his hands on them, “We can’t, honey.”

“We just did,” you mumble, picking up your underwear from the floor. You turn the panties in your hands, just about to bend down to put them on before deciding against it. Boldly, you stand in front of him and stuff your sticky underwear into his front pocket; closest to his crotch. There are extra pairs in your bag in Sarah’s room. He can have these.

He looks down briefly and then finds your eyes. His jaw clenches as he weighs his words, “When?”

“Aren’t you driving me to the airport on Sunday?” You smile and kiss his cheek, and then you leave him, your soda in hand and a mess on the floor.

FOLLOW @notjustjavierpena-fics AND TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS 💖❤️💖❤️

#pedro pascal characters #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #the last of us #my writing #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us

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its-monster-mash · 1 year

Note

for the weirder asks

why did you do that?

when was the last time you ate?

imagine we’re at a sleepover, would you paint my nails?

do you say soda or pop?

how do you like your shower water?

do you have a favorite towel?

what’s your take on spicy foods?

what was the last message you sent?

🥰💖

Thank you for asking!! 🥺💖

Why Did You Do That?

At the time, it was because I couldn’t let him traumatize my little brother. Recently, I’ve learned that it might be just something I was born with—some kind of hereditary abnormality. It’s something I’ll have to talk about with my kid when he’s a little older.

My childhood was fucking clownshoes and I am willing to clarify further but LORD it does sound fake.

When Was The Last Time You Ate?

I actually just ate. Made biscuits a few days ago, and I can’t stand throwing out food(I tend to cook too much. I’m no longer used to living somewhere where my friends aren’t close enough to invite to dinner/offer leftovers), so I heated one up with a little butter to soften it. It was good.

Imagine We’re At A Sleepover, Would You Paint My Nails?

I would try if asked, with the warning that I’m not especially good at it. When I paint my own nails, I do so with the expectation that whatever ends up on my fingers not on my nails is going to soften up and flake off eventually when I do dishes. 😅 I can’t remember the last time I painted some else’s nails.

Do You Say Soda Or Pop?

I say Soda! Fun Fact; I used to say Pop, but in the 7th Grade I read The Outsiders, and decided I preferred the way Soda sounded. (There is a character called “Sodapop”—it’s not like he was my favorite character or anything; that was always Dally—but reading it out loud in school made me realized Soda felt better to say lol)

How Do You Like Your Shower Water?

As much as I’d like to say “Scalding”, I’m not actually picky. When I’m not being rushed and I can have whatever kind of shower I want, I like cold water first to wash my hair and face, extremely hot water to wash my body, and then I like to switch it to cold for a little while before I get out. I AM capable of taking a lukewarm shower, but I WON’T shower in just cold water the whole way through. I don’t feel clean if the water isn’t at least vaguely warm.

Do You Have A Favorite Towel?

I did, but I lost it in our last move ☹️. I like black towels because no one will bitch that I stain towels after dying my hair. Never mind that all the towels here are gross and ancient and feel absolutely horrible on the skin. (I could buy new ones, but long story short, we moved in with my Grandpa because my mom was terrified of his health with everyone being an hour away, and he would bitch up and down if I “Wasted Money” on new towels—despite the fact that it is in fact, my money. We are hoping to be accepted for an apartment opening about 15 minutes away in February, so I can be close enough to check on him without having to live here and be belittled constantly �� Wish Us Luck.)

What’s Your Take On Spicy Foods?

Spicy Food My Beloved. On the rare occasion that I’m cooking ONLY for me, I love things to be fairly spicy. When I was a kid I used to eat powdered Ghost Pepper on spoons to freak out my mom’s non-spice-loving friends lol. I like hot in things that “Aren’t supposed to be hot”—when I first started hanging out with my spouse, he asked me if I could maybe NOT put chilies in the Mac n cheese I’d make lol. That said, once something is so hot that I can’t actually TASTE the food anymore, only pain, I no longer enjoy it.

What Was The Last Message You Sent?

“Y E A H”

Sorry this last one was boring lol.

#asktag #HI HELLO I TEND TO RAMBLE #the worst part about online friends is that I can’t feed everyone #I made my favorite chocolate cake; but using blood instead of egg; the other day and it was DELICIOUS #(animal blood is a safe egg alternative; we happened to have some from a deer I had to process)#(Eggwhites actually make me ill—usually it’s fine diluted in things like cake—but Indidnt have ANY discomfort with the blood cake #I brought it to my cousin’s place and they loved it too lol #(yes they knew about the blood—I brought it because they wanted to TRY the Blood Cake)#We’re considering seeing if we can buy blood from a butcher once we get our apartment #depending on the price we might keep blood in the fridge like eggbeaters because IT DOESN’T GIVE ME DIGESTIVE ISSUES #I am also prone to Iron Deficiency Anemia #(I have been vegetarian for months; but I WILL eat fresh venison for spiritual reasons)#(I was so surprised when the venison didn’t hurt my stomach after not eating meat at all for months???)#(but it HAS helped with the Anemia)#(I went vegetarian for financial purposes; but the way the anemia is messing with me I think replacing eggs with blood could be helpful #(depending on whether it’s cheaper to buy blood or an iron supplement)#(Iron Supplements tend to give me digestive issues though)#SORRY I AM RAMBLING AGAIN

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bluesidez · 29 days

Text

GymRat!Miguel Part 5

content warning: very fluffy, PDA ➡️ something in which the reader is shy about and Miguel is hungry for, Miguel’s bday is 10/13 here, it gets suggestive so MINORS BEWARE, George O’Hara is NOT abusive in this story and he will be Mexican here idc idc idc, some mentions of food (deer meat at one point), some of the gym photos are white men (my deepest apologies, I just want y’all to have an idea of the pose 😔)

word count: 4.3k (just nod and smile. she's thicc like me😗)

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GymRat!Miguel who learns your schedule front to back. He’s always there to walk you to your classes and carry your heavy bags and purses. Sometimes he’ll meet you outside of your dorm, sometimes you’ll send him your location and he’ll come running. Now, you both walk into the lab building hand in hand and leave the building swinging hands. You used to despise those lovey-dovey couples who were stuck in their own world, but now you could understand them completely. They were still a little annoying, though.

GymRat!Miguel who makes a habit of sending you post workout pictures in the early mornings. His go-to poses are the worm’s eye under-chest, the standing mirror, the bench mirror, and the back mirror. The last one was specific to his dorm bathroom, too shy to take his shirt completely off. Your thorough praises made him feel warm, but sometimes you let more silly things slip.

“You could probably choke me with your thighs and I’d be thankful”

“Baby don’t say that. :(( I would never hurt you”

“Oh so you can want me to sit and lay on you but I can’t ask for the same? Wow. The double standards”

“That’s not fair. You should sit on me. I can take it and I want it. Thoroughly.”

“Oh! So you’re saying I’m not strong enough. Got it.”

“Baby I never said that!”

“Whatever Miguel 🙄”

“ㅜㅜ”

“You never answered me though. Will you sit on me?”

“Go get ready for class 😒”

“😞”

GymRat!Miguel who tells you that his birthday is coming up at the last minute possible. You berate him for telling you so late and kick yourself for not asking sooner, but you still manage to get a reservation at one of the fancy local restaurants.

You pull out all of the stops you could. A gift card from Smoothie King, a pair of slippers to match yours, the newest Final Fantasy game, and a muscle bunny keychain to match your muscle bear keychain. He was your big teddy bear, after all.

You handed him the gifts after the staff brought out a chocolate cake with sparklers on it while singing at the top of their lungs. The chocolate syrup read “Happy Birthday Miguel 🤎” around the plate.

Miguel’s smile got bigger as he took the gifts out one by one. He paused when he got to the cards: one a birthday card and the other a thick “open when…” manilla envelope.

The birthday card was simple and sweet. It was the other stuff you were worried about. You found these cute ideas about letters and notes to leave for your significant other. You had one for anger, sadness, needing a hug, sickness, boredom, and even one for wanting a kiss. You remember Jess walking in on you with your lips smashed against the cardstock, trying to get a bunch of kiss marks to cut out. She just sighed out a “young love” and carried on to her side of the room.

“It’s only been a short time since we’ve been dating, but Thanksgiving and Christmas break are coming up so I wanted to leave you with something for when you can’t reach me.”

Your heart is thumping as Miguel takes the cards out, reading their envelopes.

What you don’t expect is for Miguel to start crying.

You startle a bit, scared that the gift is awful, but he lets out a watery thank you, flustered from everything.

You quickly make your way to his side of the table and hug him. You wipe at his eyes and chuckle at his cuteness, telling him you were afraid he didn’t like it.

He shakes his head, breathes deep and slow to calm his emotions.

“No, I will definitely be using all of these. I really appreciate this. Everything. I’m not sure how you were able to do all of this, but I’m thankful that you did.”

You couldn’t take it. Here he was with dewey eyes and red tinting his cheeks. It was cuteness overload.

You face him towards you and lean forward, connecting his lips to yours.

GymRat!Miguel who stares at you stunned when you lean back. That was your first kiss with him. His first kiss with you and he was sitting here with his cheeks damp and nose sniffling away.

“I-” his heart picks up and he’s opening and closing his mouth. He was short circuiting.

“Can we- I mean if it’s ok, can we do that again?” Miguel stutters out.

You simply nod your head and lean in again, this time tilting your head.

The cards in Miguel’s hands drop to the table and his breathing stops. Your lips were soft and full. Another fraction of his dreams that were nothing compared to the real thing.

He could only hear his heartbeat and the soft jazz music in the restaurant when he let up for air.

This was definitely the best gift of the night.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t have the capacity to be embarrassed when the waiter comes and asks if you two need anything while he’s leaning down for another kiss.

He just got to kiss his dream girl. Who cares if the waiter saw him kiss you some more?

You jump when the waiter’s hands come close to you two as he picks up an empty dinner plate. You look to the waiter awkwardly to apologize and ask for the check.

This just makes Miguel want to pull you in his lap and kiss you as the entire staff goes by.

GymRat!Miguel who wants you to feed him bites of his cake. You happily agree, especially since he was the birthday boy. His eyes never leave you the whole time.

GymRat!Miguel who grabs the check before you can pick it up. He doesn’t want you to pay for the meal.

“Miguel, it’s your birthday. I picked the restaurant and reserved the seats,” you say a little whiney.

“But I want to pay for the dinner,” Miguel pouts as he holds the check out of your reach.

When he got like this, it was hard to change his mind.

“If you let me pay, I’ll give you another kiss.”

“Just one?” Miguel brings the check back to your level, squinting at you.

You sigh, “I’ll give you ten.”

“Deal.”

Miguel gives you the check with a giddy smile and you slap your card on it.

The kisses still don’t stop him from taking over the tip.

So stubborn.

GymRat!Miguel who texts Gabriel once he’s back in his dorm. He sends pictures of everything from the food to the cake to the gifts.

“Look at what my baby did for me 🤪”

“The same one you left at the party even tho you blew up my phone about her for weeks? 😕”

“Yes…I didn’t do it on purpose. Me and her talked about it already”

“jk jk it wasn’t your fault”

“No way she got you final fantasy. Dana barely got me a cupcake”

“This just proves that my gf is better”

“Tbf tho you and Dana are still in high school”

“Ohhhh my god. You turn one more year older than me and all of a sudden you have the wisdom of a sage. SHUT UP 😭”

“I’ll literally be in college next year”

“AND ANYWAY you’ve never shown me this so-called gf. How do Ik you haven’t gone insane?”

Miguel clicked the back of his teeth in annoyance. Peter walked by him with his eyebrow raised and Miguel just waved his hand.

He sent a picture he took of you from tonight. You looked amazing in that dress and your eyes were beautiful and deep. You were smiling at him from across the table.

“First you try to steal Dana from me and now you get her”

“It’s crazy how this world is so anti-Gabriel”

“What are you yapping about”

“And I didn’t take ANYTHING from you 🫵🏽”

“We were 6 and 7 and you couldn’t push her hard enough on the swings. When will you get over that?”

“It burns all the same”

“You should give me her number and I can let you experience that feeling”

“Gabriel.”

“Show her what a real O’Hara is like”

“Cabrón”

“You’re so lucky I’m not next to you right now”

“THE BIG C WORD?”

“I’m telling mom you called me that btw”

“All because I wanted to meet your gf ☹️”

“Bastard”

“I’M TELLING MOM YOU CALLED ME THAT! WTF?”

It wasn’t long before Miguel’s mom was calling his phone to berate him. He pressed the green button, air pushing out of his nose as his mom’s face filled up the screen.

Peter looked bug eyed as Conchata’s rapid fire words filled the room.

“Ma! That’s so not fair! Gabri called me a bastard!”

There was a quick pause as his mom made a face that he knew all too well. Miguel heard Gabriel yelp as a sandal made a loud impact with his skin.

Miguel heard Gabriel cry out as his mom took off her other shoe, ready to aim, “MIGUEL HAS A GIRLFRIEND!”

Miguel just threw his phone on the bed and groaned. He could hear Peter snickering from his desk.

“What girlfriend? Miguel! Where are you? Come back and answer me,” Conchata’s voice got louder and louder. “I can’t believe you two! You would think this distance meant that you two wouldn’t fight like you’re still sleeping in the same room.”

“We’re not fighting,” Gabriel said. He smirks as he gets in the camera next to his mom. “Miguel is still hiding things from you, though.”

Miguel picked the phone up again with a frown on his face. Gabriel just stuck his tongue out like the brat he was.

“Mijo, what’s going on?” his mom asked, concern in her voice. “First, it was the party and now this. Do you need to come home?”

“No, ma,” Miguel sighed. “Nothing is wrong. Everything is fine now. Great even.”

“Then why haven’t you told me about this girlfriend of yours?”

“We just started dating. It’s still very new,” Miguel chose his words carefully. Ever since his second seamster in high school, she’s been super sensitive towards him and his feelings. Knowing her, she might give you a hard time. He didn’t want that for you just yet. “I didn’t want to introduce you to her until we were more solid.”

“I think a girl that helps to organize the take down of a sorority in your honor is pretty solid,” Gabriel comments off camera.

“She did that?!” Conchata stares at Miguel with furrowed brows.

Miguel only nods, lips wound in a tight line.

“Oh well, mijo, I have to meet this girl!”

“I don’t think-”

“Let me know when she’s free to come home with you! Maybe over Thanksgiving?”

“Ma, she has her own family-”

“Ok I have to go now! I have to catch my shows. Call me more often or I’ll have to come up there!”

The room fell silent as the call ended and Miguel was met with his messages with Gabriel again.

“CHECKMATE!”

Miguel still wanted to throttle him.

GymRat!Miguel who’s super excited when Halloween comes and you want to wear couple costumes. He hasn’t done costumes since early middle school. Growing up meant realizing that some people your age want to grow up. Fast. No one wanted to dress up in silly costumes anymore or go trick-or-treating. Sure, the scary stories were fun but at that age, he wanted to eat candy all night, not teepee houses and run in the woods.

He’s hanging out on his bed chatting with Mary Jane and Peter while you get ready in the bathroom. The theater and art department collaborated together to host a costume party. This time, Miguel wouldn’t leave your side. Maybe if you had to pee, he would consider waiting awkwardly by the door. He didn’t want the same mistake to happen.

The two of you decide to go as Starfire and Nightwing grouping up with MJ and Peter who dress up as Raven and Beast Boy for a Teen Titans theme.

The costume is pretty tight but he has to admit, it looks great on his build.

You walk out of the bathroom with a cheery “I’m ready!”

It’s definitely not ideal that his suit is so tight.

The skirt is hugging your body in every which way. The cut-outs at your hips had his fingers twitching. To top it off, the diamond cut out for your chest left him internally screaming.

Peter whistled from his desk and MJ hollered about how good you looked. You smiled bashfully, doing a 360.

Miguel wanted to shove MJ and Peter out of the room to reenact what Starfire and Nightwing actually got up to when they were by themselves.

You walk up to him and flip your flaming hair back playfully.

“Do you like it?” you ask, peering up at him.

“I think he more than likes it,” Peter mumbles out in a stage whisper. MJ elbows him softly in the stomach.

Miguel spins you around, “Fuck yeah.”

Your laugh falls out of you, surprised at his curt reaction.

“Honestly, you two can go ahead to the party and we’ll just hang out here,” Miguel said, face as serious as ever as he wrapped himself around you from behind.

“No, no, no! You can do whatever you want after the party. Keep it in, buddy,” Peter says as he starts to guide everyone to the door.

Miguel keeps himself attached to you all night.

GymRat!Miguel who helps you bring your things to your car for Thanksgiving break. It’ll only be a week but he feels like he might not make it.

“You’ll see me again next Sunday, Miggy” you say to him as he’s bent over you with the biggest pout out ever.

“I’m still gonna miss you,” Miguel leans further with his forehead on yours. “Wish you could come with me.”

“Maybe over the winter break we can plan a time to meet outside of school.”

Miguel just sighs dramatically.

You decide to say fuck it and kiss him in the middle of the almost empty parking garage.

Miguel doesn’t let up now that you’ve given him an inch. He’s holding you by your hips, your face, your waist, anything to get closer. He moans a bit into your mouth as you open up.

You wrap your arms around his neck and whisper, “I really have to get on the road now, baby. And so do you.”

Miguel slumps as he guides you to your driver’s seat. You roll the window down and pucker your lips for another kiss.

Miguel obliges easily and asks, “Call me when you get there?”

“Of course,” you say.

He stands and watches you drive off, missing you already.

GymRat!Miguel who is almost knocked down when he opens the door to his home. Gabriel is wrapped around him like a koala, squeezing away.

Miguel laughs and rubs his back, relieved that he’s not heavy enough to knock him over.

“It’s good to see you too, Gabri,” Miguel laughs.

Conchata peaks around the corner and almost cries at the sight.

“My boys!” She coos while coming to the door. “George! Come help Miguel with his bags!”

Miguel waddles in with Gabriel still clinging to him. He’s glad to be home.

GymRat!Miguel who gets your call in the middle of Gabriel watching him play Final Fantasy. He pauses the game and runs to his room, Gabriel yelling at him to come back and unpause the game.

You tell that you made it home and that you’ll call him later.

You blow a kiss at the screen and he catches it with glee before you end the call.

Miguel is glad you left before Gabriel opens his door like that one big bird meme.

“Was that her?” he asks, voice excited. “Is she still on the phone?”

“Yes. No. Why are you eavesdropping like a creep?”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping! It just dawned on me a little too late that you left to go talk to her.”

“Whatever,” Miguel groaned. “Let’s just get back to the game.”

“You know you can’t hide her from me forever, right?” Gabriel says, skipping next to Miguel.

“I’m not trying to. But you being a weirdo will make me want to.”

Conchata passes by them with a laundry basket on her hip, “Who’s hiding something?”

“Nobody!” Both Miguel and Gabriel shout in her direction and run back to their game.

Conchata rolls her eyes and continues to her bedroom.

GymRat!Miguel who becomes overwhelmed on Thanksgiving Day. It’s as if every close and distant relative was here. The first floor was full of people. As much as Miguel puts on, he’s never been an much of an extrovert.

He’s up in his room taking a breather. He pulls out one of the cards you gifted him. The one for when he missed your kisses.

He opens and pulls out a letter. There’s instructions on it.

“Each shade is for a different feeling!”

There was a cute chibi doodle of you kissing him on the cheeks at the bottom of the letter. He saw that there was a shade for nervousness/being overwhelmed.

He pulls out a polaroid of you and opens the bag of glossy paper kisses. He flips one and it reads, “Breathe slow and steady 10 times. Kiss me when you’re done.”

He does as you say and brings the paper to his lips. It even smells like you. Sweet. Fruity.

He smiles to himself and takes out one more.

GymRat!Miguel who finally lets Gabriel talk to you on Friday.

“He can be a bit annoying. I’m warning you now,” Miguel says.

“Don’t say that, Miggy. He’s your brother! He’s allowed to bother you at least a little. ”

Miguel yells for Gabriel to come in and he’s running to snatch Miguel’s phone.

“Hi! My name is Gabriel, the better O’Hara. It’s so nice to finally meet you!”

“Oh my gosh,” Miguel watches as you gasp. “It’s like another Miguel!”

Miguel snickers as Gabriel groans loudly in annoyance.

“I don’t look like him. He looks like me!” Gabriel pouts.

“Well, you both sport that same O’Hara pout.”

Gabriel and you chat for a long time. Miguel had to cut the conversation short when Gabriel started to tell embarrassing stories from their childhood.

“Alright, you’re done,” Miguel says and snatches the phone back.

“Aw, but we were just getting to the good stuff!”

“Yeah!” you say. “I wanna know how you messed up the science lab in middle school!”

“Nuh uh, Gabri is running his mouth too much. Get out.”

“I can’t wait to see you in person!” Gabriel shouts as Miguel pushes him towards the door. “You can meet my girlfriend too! She’ll love you!”

“I can’t wait,” you say, laughing as Miguel struggles to detach Gabriel’s fingers from the doorway.

GymRat!Miguel who talks to you on the phone until you fall asleep. You look adorable as you’re blissful to the outside world. Your cheek is squished on your pillow.

He has the urge to bite it like it’s mochi.

“Buenas noches, mi amor,” he whispers before he closes his eyes, falling asleep to the sound of your breaths.

He didn’t know that you were still partially awake to hear him.

GymRat!Miguel who picks you up and spins you around after the break. You squeal in shock, surprised that he could pick you up in the first place.

“Baby, I lift much heavier weights at the gym. This is nothing,” Miguel stares at you as if you have two heads when you comment on it.

You’re in a daydream the rest of the day because of that fact.

GymRat!Miguel who joins you on your late study nights in the library closer to finals. You two always sit at one of the tables hidden by the giant bookshelves.

It was nice and cozy. Quiet and roomy.

It was also a great place to makeout.

Every time you got a set of flashcards memorized, Miguel would pull you in his lap and devour you with kisses. It was a great motivation and a welcomed distraction.

It always ended up getting a little too heated and Miguel would have to excuse himself to go to the bathroom.

Sometimes you would feel so delirious that you wanted him to stay so you could crawl under the table and take care of his problems for him.

That was definitely the multiple late nights talking.

GymRat!Miguel who is super bummed out by the time Christmas break starts because you two can’t find a proper time to meet.

You have to visit several other family member’s houses and his biological dad wants his family to join him and his family at some ski resort before the week of Christmas.

George O’Hara was not turning down a free vacation.

You told him to cheer up and enjoy the snow and jacuzzis. Miguel couldn’t help but to think that the jacuzzi would be better with you on top of him in it.

And when Gabriel annoys him, he didn’t mind all that much because that was his baby brother whom he loves dearly. It was when Kron, his step-brother, would run his mouth that Miguel would seriously get annoyed.

He’s been competing with Miguel ever since he caught on to the fact that his dad had a secret love child.

Right now though, he was pissing Miguel off.

First, it was fighting Miguel over a snowboard. Then, it was taking the last elk burger and not even finishing it. Next, trying to knock him off balance right as he got off of the ski lift.

It was as if he was 8 and not 20.

His final straw was when he was being a dick towards Gabriel. All Gabriel was trying to do was bring them together and Kron cursed at him.

Even Miguel doesn’t tell Gabriel to fuck off.

“What is up with you? Don’t cuss at him. He didn’t do anything to you,” Miguel unlocks himself from his snowboard, ready to leave.

“It’s ok, Migs,” Gabriel held his hand out, knowing how this could end.

“No it’s not. He’s been nothing but a dickhead to you, to us, this entire trip. I’m sick of it. Go be annoying somewhere else, Kron.”

“Dad,” Miguel shouts out. Both George and Tyler looked over at him in concern. Miguel didn’t feel like directing himself towards a specific person. “I’m going to the room, I’ll be back down for dinner.”

Tyler wanted to run after him. George was eyeing Tyler for even reacting to Miguel’s cries. Nancy and Conchata just stood in confusion.

“He, uh, he probably just needs a breather. Maybe he’ll talk to his girlfriend!” Gabriel said trying to lighten the mood.

“Girlfriend? What girlfriend? I didn’t hear about any girlfriend,” Tyler says, saddened that he was being left out.

“Shit,” Gabriel mumbled to himself.

“You don’t live in our home, Tyler. Of course you don’t know,” George says, a bit peeved.

“What George means to say is that it’s all new. Fresh! Even I haven’t met the girl,” Conchata slides in matter of factly.

“Tyler should know her, being that she was the one who emailed him with our son’s case,” George grumbled out.

Tyler turned to Gabriel, “Jessica?”

“Uh, no.”

Tyler then says your name with a fondness. As if he knew you like an old friend. “She was quite compelling with her words!”

“So the two of you know of her and I still don’t even know what she looks like. I never thought this day would come,” Conchata held her gloved hand over her forehead like she was about to faint.

“Why don’t we host a small dinner next year? We can get to know her that way,” Nancy chimes in.

“Guys, I really don’t think that’s necessary-”

“Nonsense, Gabriel. If this girl was willing to do something so brave for Miguel we have to meet her,” Tyler grips Gabriel’s shoulder tight. A grip that could rival his brother’s.

“That’s a great idea, Tyler! Nice co-parenting move!” Conchata holds her fist out for him to bump. He does it proudly and they walk towards one of the cabins while Nancy follows behind, discussing dinner ideas.

George only scoffs and stomps off to his room mirroring Miguel’s mannerisms.

Gabriel was screwed once Miguel finds out.

GymRat!Miguel who waits until Christmas night in his bedroom to open the gift you sent to him. He smiles at your cute message and unfolds the paper to so much. It’s a Spider-man lego mask, a customized hoodie with a doodle of you and him, two picture frames with the two of you from his birthday dinner and the Halloween party, and some polaroids that you warned him to look at by himself later.

His breath shuttered as he took him in. They were all of you in your dorm room. They started off innocent. You were smiling, laughing, staring at the camera. Then they got a little more explicit.

You had on a tank top with no bra. Your cleavage was on display. Some showed your entire body on the bed. Some showed your torso and hips, curvy and full.

Miguel felt faint.

His final straw was the last picture in the stack. It was a picture of you from behind, “Merry Christmas XX” written in cursive across the top. You had on briefs but your ass was still readable, peaking out from the bottom. There was an arch in your back as you looked over your shoulder seductively. What a tease.

You were going to send him to an early grave. And who took these pictures?

All Miguel remembers was shuddering, hips lifting off the bed as he held one of pictures high. He had to bite his shirt as to not startle the entire house.

After he cleans up, he spreads the pictures across his bare chest and clicks a photo with a lazy yet satisfied smile.

You respond back with voice memos, so happy that he loved his gift. You also send some sounding a bit needy.

Miguel calls you and talks with you all night.

This Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.

dividers by: @plutism 🩵

a/n: This one was really fun to write!! I dove deep into my lover girl brain for this. Like full on immersing myself into the reader’s position. I hope you enjoyed! 🩵

As always likes and reblogs are super appreciated. PLEASE COMMENT OMG. 😭 Let me know how you feel or I get nervous 😭😭😭!

taglist: @ghost-lantern @miguelhugger2099 @slushycoookie @emelie-s-h @lake-lili @obsessed-with-miguels-ass @scaleniusrm @superiorspiderass @lexluvswriting @flordelalunas @froggygal @vmpz8sauceee @famouscattale @nixinluv02 @jada-of-arcadia @spideykid22 @what-the-jams @julia4today @tojishugetiddies @samjinxx @sleeklyalisha @the-pan-liquid @prongs-lover @kikaaauu @urlocallocachica @wanderlustingcastaway @peachey-pie @ch3rry-bl1ss @girl-of-multi-fandoms @love-kha1 @manlikemilesmyguy @sillysillygoofygoose @monticellohoe @kodzuminx @lauraolar14 @bruhhvv @m4dyy @farrowroyale @ce3stvu @ohara-whore @muneca-lemon-steppa @alexa4040 @amelialysm

#love lab drabbles 💊#GymRat!Miguel 💪🏾#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x plussize!reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x chubby!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #x plus size reader #x chubby reader #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x you #miguel o'hara au #miguel o'hara imagine

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luveline · 8 months

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whenever youre free!! can you please write a spencer x reader where we meet spencer during an early season where he’s still cute and awkward maybe we date too but something happens and we don’t see him for a long time only to meet him again when he’s older and hotter (post prison) and there’s still crazy tension after all those years. in love with your writing btw!!! ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

tysm for requesting! hope this is ok :D ♡ 1.2k

cw vaguely suggestive theme

Looking at Spencer, you could almost think you were fresh out of college again, unsure of yourself and in need of a friend.

He'd been much more than a friend. It's why you're here.

The cake might have been a bad idea. You hold it between two hands, the subtle smell of chocolate rising from the box's ill-fitting lid. Your breath catches, words coming out wonky, "Hey. Spencer?"

He looks up from his book, startled at being found, you think. "Y/N?"

He looks the same.

Obviously, he's older. He has facial hair and his curls are styled rather than having been left to their own devices, but you feel as hopelessly enamoured with him as you had years ago, because he still smiles like a puppy dog.

You're twice as surprised as he is when he stands from his coffee table to hug you. The cake box wobbles in your hands as he squeezes you, swaying you from side to side, his laugh warm in your ear.

"What are you doing back here?" he asks, diving backward to see your face. "I didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"I still had JJ's number, you know, from when I wanted that address, and she texted me to say you'd been released, and I," —your voice curls tighter, are you talking too much?— "know you might not want to hear from me, but I was worried about you. You were my best friend."

His smile flickers. You press the cake into his hands.

"That's for you," you say.

Spencer's wavering smile turns to the box. He sets it down on the table beside his coffee cup and tented book, removing the lid carefully. You remember suddenly how nice his hands are, and the tracing of his fingertips down your bare shoulders. Goosebumps erupt along the ghost of his touch.

"Well done on not being a criminal," he reads, snorting. "Funny. Little too soon."

You feel like your stomach's fallen out, but he drops the act with another laugh.

"Oh, you're still a jerk," you say. "I'm glad something hasn't changed."

"You think I've changed?" he asks.

"You didn't get any taller, if that's what you're asking."

Spencer's smile turns fond. It's the sweet, sticky smile he'd always give you before he'd tell you he loved you, or that you were the best best friend ever. Or that last night, when you followed him hand in hand down the long hallway to his bedroom.

"I wasn't that much of a jerk, was I?" he asks.

"No, you weren't." You hold your hands behind your back. "Could I join you? Just for a bit?"

"You brought me a cake. I can't say no, can I? Of course you can sit down. I'll get you a coffee, okay?"

He touches his hand to your arm as he passes. You sit down in the seat across from him, sick with what-if and should-have. What if I could've stayed? Maybe I should have done more. But when Spencer ignored the letters you sent him while he was incarcerated, you figured you'd done more than he wanted. The cake was a last ditch effort, spurred on by JJ's text that read, I think he'd be really happy to see you.

Spencer puts a china cup down in front of you. You take a sip, muscle memory, and grin at him shyly as he slides into the seat across from you. "You remembered."

"I remember everything."

"Right. Your photographic memory."

"Eidetic, and sure, but I wouldn't forget about you." He reads your shyness for what it is, worry you've overstepped. He's too perceptive to trick. "I think I tried, but… I have so many bad memories, I wanted the good ones to keep."

You can't imagine the things he experienced in prison. JJ couldn't tell you much. You knew from how you had to address his letters alone that he was sent to a general correctional facility in Mexico, rather than the protective custody he'd needed. He doesn't look terrible considering, but you've barely seen him since you had to leave. He's aged well. The only worry is his dark under eyes.

"We had a good time," you say gently. "I knew you'd need that. That's why I sent you all those letters, you know? I wasn't trying to come back into your life, I know I don't deserve it after I left, but I couldn't stop thinking about you by yourself."

You stare at his book.

"How many letters did you send?" he asks.

"I don't really remember."

"I didn't get one." He grimaces. "I didn't get any from my mom, either. Think it was a coincidence?"

Spencer's time in was kind of sick. He stabbed himself, made friends with criminals, played a lot of chess, and learned how to make tacos in a doritos bag. It was also arguably the loneliest and most degrading time of his life.

One coffee becomes two, two becomes a third to go. You feel a hundred emotions but there's one that stands out the most as you drift around Pentagon City with him —wanting. You want him to be your best friend again, to rub your back and hold you when you're tired, to take you grocery shopping in his beat up P130. You want him to kiss you like he had, like he was searching for something, but he's changed so much that you don't know if your Spencer is still in there, under everything, or if he'd even want to.

"You live in the same apartment?" you ask.

"Can you imagine how much it would cost me to move that many books? Paying the rent turns out cheaper," he says, the two of you walking in the grey street. "What about you? You didn't come all the way here to see me."

"I actually did." You rub up the length of your upper arm, sheepish. "I did, Spencer."

For a while, all you can hear is the plastic rustling of the bag held in his hand.

"Thank you for writing to me. I didn't get to read them, but it makes a difference."

You lift your head to meet his eyes. He holds your gaze, a charge behind his dark brown eyes. You used to think his irises and his pupils were one and the same, but you can see now that there are flecks of light in his irises. His hedging of thick lashes kiss in the corners as he slowly, slowly smiles.

You glare at him. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"You know what. You're doing that thing. Pretending you're not trying to make me nervous."

"I'm not doing that. Flustered, but not nervous." Is he smirking?

"Flustered," you repeat, your smile stupidly big now, cheeks aching. "Yeah, right, Reid."

His pinky brushes yours. You don't have any proof that he's doing it purposefully, but he is.

"Do you want to get something to eat? You can tell me what you were writing in your letters. I'd really, really like to know." His voice is threaded with a familiar timidity for the first time since you reunited.

There you are, you think happily. "Sure. You buy me a sticky bun from our old place and I'll tell you all my written secrets."

"Deal."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #sorry I missed the mark a bit with the crazy tension this is not super tense <\3

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moonteases · 2 years

Text

you know what. i had my cake AND ate it too

#this is brought to you by me having some of my mom's chocolate cake #and it fucks #about me

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m4tthewsgf · 3 months

Text

Period pain

Chris Sturniolo x fem reader

Summary: fluffy shit where Chris comforts his girl while she's experiencing period cramps and all that good shit

Warnings: language, blood

Author's Note: just got my period and I'm slowly dying HAHA (send me some chocolate pls). Anyway, sorry this is short lmao. Enjoy!!! You're enough!!!

---

You loved being a woman. You truly did. You loved putting together silly little outfits, wearing short skirts and crop tops and doing your makeup. It's a privilege being a girl. There's so much beauty in being one and the relationship that women have with each other is magical. There's something so special about it that no words can correctly describe it, but just the fact that we're women all together simply unites us.

However, there are a lot of things that came with being a woman that were ugly. Men who think they own anything and anyone, society's standards, sexism, patriarchy.... the list goes on. But periods? That was a goddamn curse.

You viewed women as superheroes. The fact that our bodies are able to create a whole new body with a heart and bones and brain from scratch is truly fascinating. Scary, but fascinating. That was our superpower. Yet, you and your boyfriend, Chris, were too young to start a family, even though you want to make him a father one day, and now your body is punishing you for that.

Your period pain was the worst. Your cramps felt like knives stabbing your guts, you had extreme migraines and headaches, back pain and on top of that, you were obviously bleeding out of your fucking uterus. Your mood swings were insane, to say the least, and so were your cravings.

Chris had been in a relationship with you for almost a year now so he knew what the deal was and he always tried his best to make you as comfortable as possible. You appreciated his willingness. It was adorable.

You were currently laying in your bed in a fetal position, hoping that the way you've folded your body would ease some of the pain. You have already texted your boyfriend and cancelled the plans you had made for this evening; he wanted to take you out to have a dinner date. You really wanted to go, the two of you haven't gone on a date in a while now, but you could barely breathe from the pain.

Just when you were about to put a movie on the laptop you had settled right next to you, you heard your front door open.

"Baby?" Said Chris from downstairs.

"Bedroom!" you yelled with as much energy you could. You were sure that dying would hurt less than that.

You heard your wooden stairs creak, indicating that Chris was making his way up to your room. You smiled at yourself.

"There's my angel!" He greeted you and planted a couple of kisses on your forehead and cheeks, making you giggle.

"How are you feeling baby?" he kneeled in front of you, his hands resting on the mattress and softly caressing you hair.

"Honestly if you stabbed me right now, it would hurt less" you mumbled against your pillow with half a smile.

"Well, I brought you some stuff!" Chris exclaimed before turning towards the two big bags he had placed on the floor once he entered the room.

"Obviously I got you your meds, you'll surely need em," he placed 3 boxes of Ibuprofen on your nightstand.

"Baby, I'm not downing the whole box, these will last me forever! You got 2 the previous month," you said with widened eyes.

"And? I'd rather know you have more than enough than not" he shrugged his shoulders.

"I also got you a heating pad, I read that heat helps a lot with the crumps," he pulled out a pink heating pad that was coated with a fuzzy layer of fabric.

"Then we have your favourite Yankee candles, the evergreen and caramel ones," he playfully raised his eyebrows at you, "I got a whole ass chocolate cake because I know you love that shit, some Reese's, chocolate bars..." he trailed off.

"Oh, I got some bath bombs too! Thought we'd try em out, they smell really good" he showed you two circular bath bombs, a blue and a purple one.

"And then obviously I have your pads and tampons, the Caesar's salad you go nuts about, your favourite pasta sauce...I think that's all" he finished. Even though your jaw was on the floor, it was only one of the bags he had brought with him.

"What's one the other bag?"

"Obviously some of my shirts and hoodies, jackass" he laughed at your cluelessness. You felt tears brim in your eyes. Your sensitive side came through on your period, you could cry with anything.

"Chris..." you smiled lovingly at him with a blurry vision.

"No need to cry ma, I'll take care of you m'kay?" he chuckled once more and kissed the side of your mouth.

"I love you" you softly spoke against his lips.

"I love you more baby," he kissed you again, "now, I'm gonna go run you a warm bath and then we're gonna eat whatever you want. I can get us food, whatever you're craving, or I can cook you your pasta... how does that sound?" he asked with a caring gaze.

"In n out sounds good right now if I'm being honest" you furrowed your eyebrows at him apologetically.

"Then in n out it is" Chris kissed your nose before making his way to your bathroom.

That night he didn't let you raise your hand. You needed water? He sprinted downstairs to get it. You had to use the bathroom? He escorted you, sometimes even carried you. His presence not only made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside, something that always happened when he was around, but it also eased your pain. You couldn't be more thankful for him.

#sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo oneshot #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #sturniolos #sturniolo

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cheollipop · 5 months

Text

❅*⋆ 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙨𝙣𝙤𝙬

navi | taglist

pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader

w.c.: 4.4k

genre: smut, fluff, established relationship

while the world revelled in the first snowfall of the year — crowding their windows as the sky painted the streets in a blanket of white — your focus remained elsewhere, too busy celebrating wooyoung.

❅ warnings: food/eating mentioned, unprotected sex (👎), creampie, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating, men whimpering *drools*, wooyoung is a tease, sub-leaning!reader, cockwarming, creaming, praise, nicknames (youngie, woo; baby, good girl, darling, love), they are so in love i want to throw up

❅ A/N: happiest birthday to my beloved.

nsfw under the cut—minors dni 🔞

Smoothing your spatula over the cooled top layer, small, golden crumbs adhered to the buttercream as you coated the freshly baked cake’s exterior. You peered outside the window atop the sink, a smile stretching your lips when you’d noticed the falling white specs coating the world behind the safety of your glass pane.

You loved winter. You loved the hot chocolate with marshmallows melting into a swirl of whipped cream, huddling up on the couch with candles burning, blankets engulfing your form while the world around you faded away as warmth seeped into your skin. You loved the anticipation of snow, and the bliss it brought with it when it dressed the streets in a soft, pearly gown. You loved the big jumpers you’d sneak out of Wooyoung’s closet, his scent imbedded into the soft fibres, and the homemade soup burning your tongue as he spoon-fed it into your open mouth. Even with harsh storms swaying the trees from side to side, branches banging against your windows, hail pounding on the hoods of cars, and bleak winds breaching the thick layers of cashmere and fleece, winter with Wooyoung was warm.

Too immersed in taking in the sky’s frosty offering, you’d missed the gentle rustling of keys, the click of the front door, mindlessly spreading the slightly-too-thick coating while socked feet padded their way to your idle form. The sudden hands on your waist startled you, a gallop of buttercream flying off the spatula you were holding as your arm jolted upwards, quickly twisting your body with a stunted inhale to face the intruder. Your initial fright dwindled away as you stood before Wooyoung, eyes closed to avoid the buttercream stuck over his eyebrow, his body trapping yours against the marble counter.

“Woo,” you breathed out a sigh of relief, giggles bubbling up in your throat as you reached for the tablecloth you had thrown over your shoulder, wiping his face with your lips drawn tight to suppress the laugh attempting to slip through.

“Is this how you treat me on my birthday?” You wanted to kiss his pout away, but you resisted. “I rushed home to my darling because I missed her so much, and she tries to blind me,” he sulked, fluttering his eyes open once you’d wiped his face completely clean.

This time, you giggled, leaning forward to press your lips together, moving to peck the corners before pulling away. “I’m sorry, my love,” you smiled apologetically, not bothering with teasing him on his birthday. His mouth stretched into a smile that mirrored yours, and you leaned into his body, arms wrapping around his small waist while his circled your own. Glancing down at his shirt, about to scold him for the improper number of layers he’d thrown on before leaving, your eyebrows shot up at the blotchy streaks of brown painting the thin white. “What did the guys do to you?”

He tilted his head to take in the state of his shirt, blowing out a breathy laugh before directing his gaze back to your puzzled features. “Oh baby, you should’ve seen my face. They had Jongho push it down into the cake.”

“Mm, you still have some in your hair,” you grinned while picking out the crumbs from his hairline, running your fingers through dark locks to break up the stuck-together strands.

A gust of air blew over your face as it escaped Wooyoung’s parted lips in a heavy sigh, interrupting your ministrations when he dropped his head onto your shoulder to nuzzle his nose into your pulse point, inhaling the lingering scent of vanilla wafting off your skin and occupying your residence. Pressing a kiss to your neck, he muttered against the soft flesh, “I’ve missed you.”

You smiled, “you’ve only been gone for two hours.”

“Too long.”

Your chest warmed, fingers carding through the soft hairs at his nape while he laid the weight of his head onto your shoulder, breath steady and arms secure around your waist, occasionally tightening as he zoned in and out of the present, content to simply rest within the aura of tranquillity you’d effortlessly granted him. “You’re here now,” you burrowed your nose into his hair, the chocolatey aroma of a wasted cake embedded into the soft locks.

It wasn’t that Wooyoung was fond of winter too — he simply enjoyed spending it by your side. Pretending to be cold so you’d snuggle closer to him, running your hands through his hair and peppering kisses over his face until it scrunched up, blowing hot air over his already-warm palms just to see the corners of his eyes wrinkle as his lips curled with a smile. You'd wait all year to watch the world pile on layers of thick fabric with a sheet of white, quickly melting dust resting on their shoulders, dainty snowflakes bedecking brown locks, irises glinting under the winter sky as you walked down the slippery sidewalk with intertwined fingers swinging between your bodies.

Winter, to you and Wooyoung, meant meaningless walks under the soft snowfall, feeling the momentary chill of the icy flakes on your skin before it reverted back to liquid. Red noses inhaling the crisp air, soft gusts of fog leaving freckled lips as excited words rolled off his tongue — something about a new series he was watching, or was it a movie? The non-prescription glasses he insisted on wearing all but fully beclouded, droplets of melted snow rolling off the plastic frame, his lips cracked with their excessive movement as he kept switching between topics, as though he’d been saving them up for weeks. As though you didn’t share most of the day’s hours in each other’s company, eyes meeting delicate features as the morning sun cast its early rays over your resting figures, and falling shut within each other’s embrace, hoping their gentle touch could carry into your dreams.

Wooyoung knew when to be quiet as well. When the grey, weary skies reflected upon your affect, your warm sheets proving to be a little more difficult to part with, and words a little more difficult to utter. In such instances, Wooyoung offered you peace, safety, warmth. A place to rest and recover, where the passage of time didn’t seem too daunting, where you could find footing at your own pace, with a gaze flooded with unfaltering adoration cast upon you, and arms warmer than the peak of summer holding your trembling form until it found the strength to stand alone, a ghost of a palm on your lower back even as you took your first steps back into the present.

A pleasant exhale warmed your shoulder before Wooyoung’s body retreated partially, arms still encompassing your body while he directed his focus onto the counter behind you. “Has my baby been working on this since I left?” His tone was playful, amused as he peered over your shoulder at the crumb-coated cake left unfinished.

The corners of your lips lifted into a shy smile, cheeks flushed while you nodded. With your eyes fixed onto a particular stain on Wooyoung’s collar, you’d missed the tenderness of his gaze as he took you in — curling in on yourself while he held you in his arms, flour dusted over your sweater and traces of buttercream left at the corner of your mouth from a sneaky taste testing you thought would go unnoticed. Holding your chin with his pointer and thumb, Wooyoung directed your focus back to his face, greeting you with an easy smile before leaning forward to close the gap between your lips. They sashayed like dancers, moulding against one another in a gentle, yet gradually deepening kiss, noses pressing against one another as Wooyoung stepped further into your space.

And just like that, he was gone again, moving back to moon over the blend of abashment and disorientation taking over your features while your lips continued to chase his, the plushness lingering over your senses, and you wanted more. But the hands on your waist were twisting you clockwise until you faced the loitering snowfall once again, Wooyoung’s arms now on either side of you, bracketing your body against the counter while his lips feathered over the cartilage of your ear as he spoke, “come on then, don’t let me distract you.”

Your heartrate picked up, Wooyoung’s body heat — despite the intentional space left between your back and his chest — seeping into your skin, not aiding the flush running up your body at the proximity, the not-so-innocent touches, the teasing, the taste of his lips persisting over yours.

“Woo,” the tone was firm, but your voice wavered before you could stop it, and the telltale stretch of his mouth against the shell of your ear told you all you needed to know — Wooyoung was aware of his effect on you, and would work to exploit his power in any way he could.

Slender fingers reached for the piping bag you’d set aside earlier, twisting one of your hands with his free one to place the tool into your open palm. “Here, I’ll help,” his smirk remained, evident in his voice as he laid his hands over your knuckles, following your lead as you adjusted the bag in your hold until it fit comfortably.

You exhaled the breath you’d been holding, steadying your trembling hands and angling your body over the counter, dragging Wooyoung down with you as he watched your measured movements in silence. Pressing down on the sides of the plastic bag, you formed your first buttercream swirl with a meticulous twist of the wrist. You pursed your lips, leaning back ever so slightly to examine it before nodding in approval, bending down once again to repeat the process.

Wooyoung's hand remained perched idly over yours, eyes flitting between your profile and the hands lining his birthday cake’s circumference with — very uneven — swirls of vanilla buttercream. With no trace of your previous bashfulness to be found, Wooyoung found himself mooning over the engaged furrow of your eyebrows, the glossy sliver of tongue held between your teeth, steady hands moving underneath his with no complaint about their added weight; you’ll most likely use that as an excuse to justify the noticeable discrepancy in swirl size, and Wooyoung will most likely allow it, drop the banter and accept you accusations, simply to see the blissful spark lighting up your irises.

Suddenly straightening up into his body, you’d dragged Wooyoung out of his sappy daydreams and back to inspect the finished cake, the decorative swirls appearing more uniform now that they’d been clustered together, the mouthwatering scent of vanilla and caramel so inviting, so homey and pleasant.

As though you’d read his mind, you reached forward to grab a clean fork from the dishrack, not bothering with cutting out a slice before you’d stabbed the cake to scoop out a bite of fluffy, vanilla-coated sponge. Wooyoung's mouth opened without thought as you directed the heaped fork over your shoulder, teeth clanging against the metal as he slid the contents off its prongs. You'd expected the passionate feedback, turning your head as soon as his eyes had fell shut, wishing you’d plugged your ears as soon as the hyperbolic moaning began. Sensing the sway of his body behind you while he chewed loudly, you slid your finger over the coated side of the cake, collecting a bead of buttercream and rotating your body to smear it onto his cheek. The moaning stopped, thank fuck.

The deadpan expression barely lasted, his features melting into that of warmth, affection, love — as though you’d handcrafted the intricate snowflakes painting the world white and placed them into his hands. Wooyoung’s gaze moved to your lips, skipping contemplation, and diving forward to share the sweet remnants of vanilla on his tongue, flicking it over your bottom lip with a sly smile. He trailed tender kisses up your face, starting at the corner of your mouth and up to your cheekbone. And just as your eyes fluttered shut, a warm, buttercream-covered cheek collided with yours, curved nose nuzzling into the warm flesh to smear the sugary cream over your skin. His grip on your waist was unyielding, holding you still while you thrashed in his arms.

“You shouldn’t play with your food, my love,” he grinned, fingers now poking at your sides.

“Woo—” you shrieked and jerked away from his touch, throwing your head back as giggles erupted from your chest. “Please—s-stop!”

He carried on with his ministrations for a few moments more, revelling in the pleasant melody leaving your smiling lips, the joyous expression persisting even after his hands ceased their motion, now resting comfortably over the curve of your waist. It was as though an inconspicuous force drew him to you, finding it laborious to remain detached from your form. The cake on his shirt be damned, he wrapped himself around you, tucking his head into the crook of your neck to inhale the scent of your body wash, pressing feathery pecks over the soft skin.

The corners of your lips curled upwards, sighing pleasantly at the gentle gesture as you smoothed your hands down his back, nuzzling your cheek into his clothed shoulder while the scent of musk and chocolate mingled in the air around you.

Settling in the tranquil stillness with Wooyoung, you could feel the taut, lean muscle lining his back beneath your palms, absorbing his comforting heat as you stood together. “How are you not cold?”

He smiled fondly at the slight lisp you spoke with, tucked so close to his body, his shoulder muffled your words. Pulling back, he placed a wet kiss to the tip of your nose when you’d whined about the sudden parting, and his hands reached for yours. He enveloped the icy digits within the warmth of his own, bringing them up to his mouth to blow hot air into the cocoon he’d created around your hands. Closing his fingers around yours completely, he hoped it’d contain the warmth of his breath, lowering them back down to peer at you through his eyelashes, a familiar glint in his eyes.

“What?” you questioned warily, one eyebrow raised and heat rushing through your body.

Despite his intense stare, his eyes — though slightly narrowed — remained soft, one hand leaving yours to smooth down the hair at the side of your head, the scent of chocolate surrounding you once again as he pressed his lips to your temple, the leftover sugary cream on his skin spreading over your cheekbone as he spoke.

“My sweet baby, let’s warm you up, yeah?”

All plans to ravish you vanished as soon as your knees met the carpeted floor between his legs, hurried fingers tugging at his sweatpants, not allowing him the time to settle back down onto the couch cushions before a wet tongue swiped over the precum beading at his tip.

“Baby, you really don’t have to,” he muttered breathlessly, fingers carding through your hair, eager eyes watching your spit-soaked lips approaching his cock.

Looking up at him through your lashes, you wordlessly took his cockhead into your mouth, fluttering your eyes shut as you lowered yourself further down his length, grunts and choked moans reverberating in your ears and motivating you to carry on. He felt heavy on your tongue, the prominent vein lining his shaft throbbing in your mouth and bitter precum overwhelming your tastebuds. Wooyoung’s thighs tensed under your palms, and glancing up at him, you watched the turmoil his features portrayed, wanting you to move at your own pace, yet the burning want sizzling in his gut begged him to take what he wanted.

“Youngie,” a gentle mumble of his name was enough to drag him out of the battles crowding his mind, snapping his eyes down to your face with parted lips and stunted exhales. Dragging your mouth down his length, you watched as his gaze moved to take in the slow descent, then back up at the sound of your voice, “use me however you want, birthday boy.”

You flattened your tongue over underside of his cock, moving upwards to circle around his head, your exaggerated slurping breaking Wooyoung’s composure, the internal battles in his mind coming to a standstill as your warmth engulfed him, eyes beginning to roll back with every inch you took down the rough plane of your tongue. His hands shot up to hold your face, thumb caressing your cheekbones while he kept you in place, languidly rolling his hips into your mouth, head thrown back over the cushions behind him with burning arousal rushing through his body. You nuzzled your nose into the thick hairs at his base, and even as you gagged, your mind floated in ecstasy with every upward buck of Wooyoung’s hips.

“Fuck—‘m sorry darling, you feel so good,” he admired the skill in which you took his cock with lidded eyes, brows furrowed while he held you down until he felt the last of your oxygen warming the skin of his pelvis.

Wooyoung helped you off his length before you had the chance to tap on his thigh, chest heaving as he watched you regain your breath, his throbbing length coated in your spit and spurting translucent, sticky precum in anticipation. He followed the string of saliva connecting the tip of your tongue to his cockhead, swallowing dryly as his body lit up with all-consuming lust. Watching you suck in the air you’d lost, Wooyoung assumed he’d have more time to recover, to push down the hints of an orgasm come too soon, but the sudden fingers around his base offered him no reprieve. Small, firm tugs on the lower half of his cock built him up to an almost-high once again, his voice thinning — groans turned choked-up moans — and his hips involuntarily jerking into your fist.

“W-wait—baby, ‘m gonna cum, please—” he pleaded, but the small smile you tried to hide told him everything he needed to know: you weren’t planning on stopping. You wanted to hear him whimper and whine, watch him squirm and shiver under your touch until he’d dirtied his clothes with his own cum, until his cock could no longer handle the flaring stimulation. But Wooyoung had other plans, grabbing your wrist and sighing as you relaxed your fingers around his cock, shutting his eyes to bask in the calm before opening them once again to take in your dejected features. Too riled up to play your games, like a carnivorous fauna who’d been mercilessly starved for weeks, Wooyoung wanted to feast. “God, darling, I wanna fuck you so bad.”

You thought the couch would’ve been reserved for foreplay and playful teasing, but Wooyoung didn’t bother move to the comfort of your shared bed, simply lifting you off the ground and trapping you under him, the fingers tangled in the hair at your nape tugging your head back to bare your neck while blunt canines left imprints over the delicate skin. Wooyoung’s cock fit snugly between your walls, resting comfortably within your clenching heat while he ravished you, his body weight resting on your pelvis restricting your movement. It seemed as though the raw lust blazing in hooded eyes had dissipated completely, replaced by unwavering patience, gentle pecks and blooming bruises, a throbbing cock seated within your cunt with no plans of moving, of fucking you the way you’d yearned for.

“Youngie,” you whined, a high-pitched whisper that elicited a hum from the man biting into your shoulder. “Please move.”

A breathy chuckle blew over your skin, “I thought the birthday boy made the requests?”

Your expression fell, was it the embarrassment or dejection? Either or, you turned your head to face the backrest, the motion restricted by the hand in your hair, now easing its grip as Wooyoung noticed the flush spreading up from the collar of the flour-dusted sweatshirt he didn’t bother add to the pile of clothes haphazardly thrown over the carpet.

Redirecting back up to your jaw, he planted wet, open-mouthed kisses over its slope, gentle fingers on your chin guiding your gaze back to him. “Oh baby, I’m just kidding.”

His lips settled into an easy smile, soft fringe fanned over his forehead and shimmering beads of sweat forming over the slivers of skin peeking through. The abashment you’d felt faded upon meeting his eyes, void of any judgement, and full of unconditional infatuation. His lips landed onto yours while you were too busy admiring his features — a slow, deep kiss to match the leisure movement of his hips, the drag of his cock over your walls throwing gasoline into the fire burning in your gut. Arm hooking under your knee, he spread you open and laid himself over your lower half.

“What are you—”

“Moving,” a sly smirk paired with a sharp thrust into your welcoming heat, a groan left his parted lips while he watched you melt under his towering frame, the audible squelch of your pussy like music to his ears.

He didn’t give you time to process, elbows digging into the cushion on either side of your head as he built up to a mind-numbing pace, stuffing his cock inside you and revelling in the pleasure painting your features — eyes shut and mouth forming an ‘o’, unable to form coherent words, only a staccato of airy ah’s. His cock was relentless, repeatedly pressing into your sweet spot to light fireworks behind your eyelids, your hips rolling to meet his to create an echo of skin-on-skin between the four walls. The constant squeeze of your pussy around him, the sweet sounds leaving your lips, the firm hold you had around his biceps as he pistoned his hips into you with fervour — Wooyoung’s composure began faltering, and his desperation unveiled itself the deeper he fucked himself into your sopping cunt.

You were so wet, a frustrated whine reverberating in Wooyoung’s throat when he slipped out of you, hands trembling as he hurriedly pushed himself back into your fluttering hole, sighing in unison once your walls were once again moulded to his shape. He lowered himself atop you, his forearms easing some of his body weight off yours while he nuzzled back into your neck, grunts and breathy moans now much closer to your ear, much clearer, sending searing waves of heat straight down to your stretched core.

“So fucking perfect,” he muttered into your skin, “taking me so well, letting me use your cunt the way I want. Such a good girl for me,” he bit down on the column of your throat, feeling it vibrate with your moans as he built himself up to the brink of his orgasm, then slowing down to drag you there with him.

“Fuck, Woo, please—”

Your fingers found the hair at his crown and tugged, not to pull him off you, but to hear the whimpers sounding at the back of his throat. You were close too, so fucking close from the relentless abuse of your g-spot, Wooyoung’s cockhead pressing into it with every forceful thrust into your needy cunt while his pelvis continuously brushed against your swollen clit. The familiar fluttering didn’t go unnoticed, your pussy gripping Wooyoung with its every retreat, swallowing him back inside — inch by inch — with an exhale of relief.

“Close?”

It sounded more like a statement, but you nodded anyway, the hands on his shoulders sliding down his bare back to grip the warm flesh of his hips, desperately guiding them into your heat. The gesture, paired with the doe, sparking eyes you looked up at him with, the gentle tone of your voice as whispered pleads and repetitions of his name escaped your pouty lips, dragged Wooyoung over the edge, tumbling down the steep hill of his orgasm until his vision blurred with unshed tears. The rhythm he'd maintained broke, replaced by sloppy, frenzied thrusts into your dripping cunt, a thick ring of cream forming around his cock as he emptied inside you.

He twitched violently between your walls, and the sudden warmth spreading through your lower belly dragged you down that hill with Wooyoung. You clamped down around his length, halting the frantic pounding as he sheathed himself within your cunt, feeding thick ropes of white into your womb while he shuddered above you, unfiltered moans vibrating against the side of your neck.

It felt like you were still coming, even as Wooyoung used your cunt to milk out the last of his cum, heavy dollops streaming out of the stretched hole, your walls continued to flutter around him, thighs trembling at his side and under his palm. Even as he stretched your leg out for you, refusing to leave the comforting warmth of your cunt while he wrapped his arms around you and twisted you onto your sides, your mind still floated within a cloud of ecstasy.

Was it your orgasm, or was it just Wooyoung? His presence, the soft scent of his cologne and the chocolate in his hair creating a bubble of comfort around your resting frame, his warmth seeping into your skin and lighting your heart ablaze. Today was meant to be about him, celebrating him, but love laced itself into everything Wooyoung did, and he couldn’t help but give, even on a day on which he was meant to take.

“Thank you for today,” the words spoken into your hair were unexpected, and you lifted your head to meet dazed eyes.

“What?”

“The cake, and the dessert,” he smiled at the innuendo, leaning down to peck the tip of your scrunched nose. “Thank you for loving me.”

Dumbstruck, you stared up at the man with glassy eyes, tucking yourself back into his chest before he could question the tearful reception of his words. But Wooyoung only held you tighter, pressing a faint yet reassuring kiss over your hair while you sunk further into his arms. Warm. Even in the midst of winter, Wooyoung was warm.

With the fluffy blanket you’d laid over the backrest now wrapped around your bare figures, you rested within Wooyoung’s secure hold, sharing whispered confessions and hearty giggles while the sun started its descent from its locus. And as the sky shifted from blues to a vivid magenta, you endeavoured to maintain the smile stretching Wooyoung’s lips, to watch his lines around his mouth further deepen until this happiness forever etched itself onto his face.

The world continued to celebrate the first snow of the year — blankets of white now melting over the asphalt — but your focus remained elsewhere, too busy celebrating Wooyoung.

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#cromernet #jung wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x reader #jung wooyoung smut #wooyoung smut #ateez x reader #ateez smut #jung wooyoung fluff #wooyoung fluff #ateez fluff #jung wooyoung scenarios #wooyoung scenarios #jung wooyoung imagines #wooyoung imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

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theostrophywife · 10 months

Note

Hii! Az fluff request here.

I was thinking of the inner circle being out having dinner somewhere and the reader is exhausted. Az notices it and moves his arm for her to lean on him and she falls asleep there, head in az’s arm. Az being all cute w her in front of the inner circle. Or something like that!

Love your writing!!

wake me up.

author’s note: wake up babes it’s time to yearn. this drabble is brought to you by this song.

the shadowsinger could tell that you’d had a long day, but he didn’t realize how exhausted you were until you almost placed the chocolate cake in the sink instead of the dirty dishes. azriel took the dessert tray from your hands and handed you the dishes instead in one smooth move.

you blinked in surprise. “oh, thanks az. soggy cake would’ve made a horrible dessert.”

azriel frowned in concern. “you look exhausted. when’s the last time you slept?”

you wiped your soapy hands on the front of your apron. “always great to hear that i look haggard and tired.”

az’s eyes widened. “i didn’t mean— you always look great — i just…”

the soft little chuckle that fell from your lips instantly relaxed the shadowsinger. “i’m just messing with you, az.” you smoothed down the worried frown lines on his forehead. “don’t worry about little old me. it’s just been a long day, that’s all.”

“if you want to head upstairs and rest, i can finish cleaning up here. the others won’t mind.”

you stubbornly shook your head. “are you kidding? i’m not missing game night. the last time we played poker cas got so mad he flipped a table and got put in time out. it’s worth losing sleep over.” sidestepping the shadowsinger, you finished washing the rest of the dishes. you could’ve easily used your powers, but cleaning always made you feel accomplished. besides, it gave you an excuse to be alone with azriel for a little while longer.

“are you sure? i just don’t want you missing any sleep.”

as you racked the plates, you couldn’t help but smile. this was so typically azriel. always looking out for his friends. “you’re sweet to worry, but really, i’m fine az. now let’s go kick some ass at poker.”

halfway through the game, the shadowsinger was convinced that he should’ve insisted on marching you straight to bed. you were barely keeping your eyes open, yawning every now and then while stubbornly stating that you weren’t even a tiny bit tired.

as expected, the poker game had turned heated fairly quickly. cas and rhys were arguing about some trivial rule, while their mates sighed exasperatedly. mor and amren had completely abandoned their cards all together, choosing to drink their weight in wine instead. despite his brothers argument, the only one close to winning was lucien who winked at elain from across the table. his mate blushed and smiled back before turning her attention to azriel.

she nodded in your direction, slumped form currently growing sleepier by the second. elain patted her shoulder, signaling to the shadowsinger. azriel got the hint and scooted closer to you.

“looks like this game isn’t going anywhere anytime soon.” the shadowsinger set his cards down and moved his arm over the back of the sofa. “you might wanna settle in, this might take a while.”

you watched through bleary eyes as cassian angrily waved his deck in rhysand’s face. the high lord looked affronted, which made you snort in amusement. those two were worse than children.

you yawned once again. “okay, but only for a little bit.” azriel nodded as you curled against him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“finally,” lucien mouthed.

azriel glared at him, which only caused the redhead to smirk. elain elbowed him, but there was a quirk to her mouth that told azriel that she obviously agreed. luckily, you were too sleepy to notice the exchange with the meddlesome couple.

“promise you’ll wake me up, az?” you asked as azriel stroked your hair.

“i promise.”

he’d wake you up eventually. he just didn’t specify when.

within minutes, you were fast asleep on his shoulder. azriel pulled the blanket over you, making sure that you were comfortable and undisturbed. the shadowsinger rubbed circles against your back, lulling you into deeper sleep. you looked so peaceful in his arms. he was so engrossed in you that he didn’t even notice that the whole room had gone quiet.

“well, aren’t you two adorable?” rhys said with a smirk. at some point, him and cassian had stopped arguing and focused their attention on the shadowsinger instead.

“you never hold me like that nes.” cassian teased with a pout.

“that’s because you snore loud enough to wake up the whole damn house,” scoffed nesta. “plus, you drool in your sleep.”

cassian gasped in feigned outrage. the shadowsinger shushed him. “not so loud, cas. you’ll wake y/n up.”

“rhys is right, you know.” feyre whispered. “you two are so cute together.”

“it’s about time you do something about it, shadowsinger.” amren said pointedly.

“it’s obvious that you two have chemistry together,” mor added. “you should ask her out on a date. not your little “just friends” picnics. i mean a real date, like dinner and a nice restaurant and candles and everything. oh my gods, i’ll have to help her pick out a dress!”

“that’s a great idea, mor.” feyre agreed excitedly. “we can all go shopping together.”

elain clapped. “i can put together a bouquet for you! y/n adores roses. especially the ones from my garden.”

“name the place and i’ll handle the reservations, brother.” rhysand offered.

“you’ll have to take her to that new gelato place, too.” lucien suggested. “she’s been raving about it for days.”

azriel rubbed his temples as his friends planned out this hypothetical date that he apparently got no say in. the shadowsinger knew they meant well, but if he was going to take you out, he’d do it on his own terms. plus, it’s not like he’d been thinking about your first date for months now. agonizing, was more like it. everything was planned right down to the last detail.

he just had to suck it up and actually ask.

“thank you for the unsolicited advice,” azriel said dryly. “but i think i’ve got it.”

the shadowsinger lifted you up with ease and walked out of the living room, leaving the rest of his friends to their own devices. he quietly made his way up the stairs, taking great care not to wake you. azriel paused on the top step as you stirred in his arms.

“az?” you murmured softly. it was so quiet he thought he’d imagined it.

“yeah?”

you cuddled against his chest, curling your arms around his neck. “promise you’ll ask when i wake up?”

azriel’s heart stopped for a second. then, sunlight filled his veins as you smiled sleepily up at him. he leaned down and kissed your forehead.

“i promise, y/n.”

#excuse me but what the fuck #i need to scream for a sec #azriel #azriel fic #azriel x you #azriel x reader #acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger

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winkwonkwankwenk · 3 months

Text

Gojo Head-Cannons!! (SFW & NSFW)

SFW

Has modeled a few times just for fun, definitely a Paparazzi-Darling.

Has a major sweet tooth. Will accept any snack if it's high in sugar. He keeps snack cakes and candies in his pockets at all times. He sulks when you make him eat a meal before dessert when the two of you are out, almost like a petulant child. "I'm eating this Spinach because I want to, not because you told me to- and definitely not because it's so fucking good..." He cheers up again the moment you cave and let him run to the chocolate fountain.

Loves traveling. He can't stay in one place long before getting angsty. He'll hop on the nearest train or plane the moment he sees photos of an area, not bothering to pack a bag- he'll just buy whatever he needs while he's there. "Let's go to Morocco tomorrow. Or would you prefer Dubai?"

Black card holder. He's got a couple of them. He leaves most of them laying around the house and has left them in public on occasion. Worst case scenario, he just has to get a new card. Perks of being wealthy.

Shopping sprees! Gojo loves going shopping, so the moment you ask he grabs his keys and runs to the door. Even though shopping was your idea, you end up regretting it. He drags you to every store he sees, making you wait as he changes in the dressing room. He always ends up with hands full of bags, mostly things he brought for you when you weren't looking. He surprises you with gifts as thanks for tagging along.

He has a skincare routine. Toner? Got it. Moisturizer? Got it. You actually use his products because hello- they're clearly working. He also gets his nails and toes done regularly and the two of you often have spa days together. You'll sip and sit, eating fancy wines and cheeses while gossiping. "Did you see what he wore? I would never."

Always scoops you up when it's raining and hides you in his jacket so he can use infinity to block the rain. "Can't have you getting sick." His cheeks are tinted pink when he says this, and all you can do is smile.

Lightweight when it comes to alcohol. A shot gets him tipsy and he makes the worst decisions when he's drunk. You had to stop him from stripping once, and from then on he's never took a sip without you being near.

Loves cuddling. In bed? Yes. At work? Yes. On missions? Hell yeah! Every chance he gets to have you in his arms he eagerly takes.

He's a gym rat. He'll invite you to work out with him and pout if you decline. Sometimes he'll do push-ups with you under him, kissing you every time he goes down. "What? Kisses are my reward for all of this hard work." He'll tease, and then drop down for another. He's seen and heard those audios you have saved, so sometimes he'll taunt you by saying your name each push-up to make that whimpering sound you seem to adore.

Can't cook for shit. He's burned water before. It's funny, the amazing Gojo can't do something as simple as frying an egg or making toast.

Clingy boyfriend! He'll spam call, text, sometimes even show up outside your door with flowers and your favorite sweet. It can be pouring rain outside and he'll still rush over, even as lightning cackles in the sky. That's just how much he loves you.

He's attached to your stuffed animals. You've caught him trying to sneak some out of your place to take to his. You end up caving and letting him take home one squishmellow, he coats your face in kisses after.

Gets jealous easily. He wants all your attention and when he sees you giving it to another guy he'll act nonchalant but really he's holding back the urge to purple-hollow the dude.

Loves dancing. He'll pull you up off the couch or in his arms and loudly blast your song. Your song- the one the two of you listen to all the time. "We'll play this at our wedding for our first dance," he always jokes...sometimes you wonder if he's joking.

He wants children. Whenever the two of you are on a walk and see a family, the children run up to him and beg to play. Something about him radiates paternal energy. The parents of the kids will aways apologize but the two of you laugh it off. "That's going to be us soon, y'know." He'll whisper into your ear before your walk resumes.

It gets...intense when the two of you argue. He's stubborn in his stance, even when it's debating who's turn it is to do the dishes. Part of the problem is he finds you so damn hot when you're mad, the other problem is how he can't take anything seriously. He always plays things off as a joke until he sees how upset you are, and then the guilt will eat away at him. He always apologizes first, accompanied by make-up-gifts. "I shouldn't have said what I did, forgive me?"

He gets overstimulated sometimes because of 6th sense, and you're the first person he calls when it gets bad. Your voice is enough to calm him down, but a kiss on the cheek doesn't hurt.

He said "I love you" first, even with a shaky voice he knew he had to say it then or he never would.

NSFW (Kinky stuff ahead)

Loves making out with you but especially in public. He doesn't care how it makes other people feel, he'll pull you into a sloppily kiss and suck at your lips until they're kiss swollen. Drool, lots of drool, because he's obsessed with the taste of your tongue.

The first time you pulled his hair he made such an embarrassing noise he hasn't let you do it since. On occasion, you manage to sneakily bury your fingers in it and give it a firm tongue. A strangled moan will spill from his lips and then you have about five seconds to run. Good luck.

Pussy eater. Ass eater. He loves your taste. He'll bend you over the kitchen table and eat you out until your legs shake and your juices puddle on the floor. He'll lap your juices up and hold them in his mouth, then let them trickle into your mouth as he kisses you. "Mmm…now you know how good you taste."

He's a switch, perfectly fine with letting you lead on days you want to. His favorite positions are reverse-cowgirl, doggy, and sixty-nine. He loves when you sit on his face, nothing turns him on more than having your pussy on his skin. He likes to tell you how good you taste, even when his tongue is buried inside of you.

Three rounds isn't enough- he needs days. If you can still walk when he's done then back to the bedroom you go.

Pink tip. His cock is roughly eight inches, decently thick. He knows how to use it, and that's what really matters. Cum flavor is sweet, what did you expect from a man who's diet is 90% sugar?

He's a foreplay fan, thus why he loves making out with you. He also finds it so fun to finger you, play with your clit until you squirt. "This is where you're weak right?" He knows all of your favorite spots and especially the ones that push you over the edge until you're a soaking wet mess.

He'll try anything once, several times if he enjoys it of course. That's why he lets you peg him on occasion. He's let you cuff him down to the bed a few times. He's even worn a maid outfit for you.

He likes cumming on your skin, leaving his semen sprayed on you like a glaze. He also likes watching you swallow, it makes him shiver because you do it so eagerly. He'll still cum on your face after.

He's a loud lover. The neighbors better hear, or else he's not putting enough back into it. He knows he's doing good when you're screaming and squealing and there's knocking on the front door. "Good girl, let them hear how good I make you feel."

Bomb make-up sex. Whatever the two of you were fighting about doesn't matter now, not when he's ramming into you and holding your legs behind your head. How are you supposed to be mad when he's fucking you senseless?!

Steals your panties and finds it funny when you find them at his place. You've lectured him about it hundreds of times but his only response is a smug smirk. "Come on, I'm serious! I don't know how they got here." and "You must've left them last time you came over."

Only pulls out because he knows you trust him enough to let him hit raw. "Can I pleeease cum inside?" He always asks when he's close, and always respects whatever decision you make.

Aftercare is mostly cuddles, kisses, and takeout from your favorite places. He'll casually go to the door naked, jumpscaring the delivery person but since he tips them double what the food costs they never say much besides thank you. He'll feed you, then bathe with you when you can walk again. He likes to wash your hair, put on your lotion, help you put on fresh pajamas, and then he'll tuck you back into bed. "Rest up," he always says before you drift off.

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munson-blurbs · 4 months

Note

Can I request something with Eddie x reader in a long term relationship. They didn’t meet until their mid to late 20s. maybe they are out to dinner one time with his old highschool buddies and she hears them joke about how eddie always wanted to fuck a cheer leader. she gets the bright idea to buy a cheer leader out fit with a tiny skirt and pom poms and wears it for him one day

Oh, now this is what I'm talking about. Written with the gorgeous queen of fluffy smut, @corroded-hellfire 💚

Warnings: smut (18+ only, minors DNI), oral (m! receiving), unprotected p in v, Reader wears a cheerleading uniform, mention of Eddie's crush on Chrissy

WC: 1.8k

Divider credit to @saradika

It’s not the first time you’ve met any of the guys from your boyfriend’s old Hellfire gang. It is the first time that you’ve been around them as a group, though. They’re much louder in a pack—not necessarily trying to shout, just be heard over the guy who is telling a story next to them.

The guys are funny though and you’re enjoying getting a glimpse of what High School Eddie was like from those who got to experience it first hand. It wasn’t terribly long ago that they were all in high school together; you’re all only in your twenties. But Eddie seems to groan every time there’s a reminder that the youngest guys in the group can legally drink now.

“So tell me more about this hellion during his younger years,” you say with a laugh, draping an arm over his denim-clad shoulders. “Because he claims to have been a total badass, but he’s such a teddy bear.” To emphasize your point, you smack a wet kiss to his cheek.

Eddie blushes but doesn’t wipe it off; instead, he tilts your chin till you’re facing him and kisses you until the group throws wadded-up paper napkins at you both.

“This guy was definitely not a teddy bear,” Lucas says. “I asked him to postpone one Hellfire meeting so I could play in the championship basketball game, and he put me on probation!”

You look at Eddie, slack-jawed. “Eds!” you chastise him teasingly.

“It was the last campaign of the year!” Eddie rebuts. “Actions have consequences, Sinclair.”

Lucas rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his drink, using his free hand to flip off his friend.

Dustin cackles at the exchange. “Yeah, he was pretty much an asshole to everyone.” His voice is mischievous as he waggles his eyebrows and adds, “except Chrissy Cunningham.”

“Ooh,” you mimic Dustin’s playful tone. “And who is Chrissy Cunningham?”

“Head cheerleader, cute and blonde, super sweet to, like, everybody,” Mike pipes up.

Eddie gets flustered, not because Chrissy was brought up, but he thinks hearing about his crush on her might upset or annoy you. He sputters over his words, which just riles him up even more.

“I don’t think we need to, uh, talk about that,” Eddie says, shaking his head.

“Why? What happened?” you ask with a frown. It was no secret between you and Eddie that neither of you were popular in high school and had crushes that went unrequited. But Eddie never told you about anything particularly bad happening between him and a cheerleader.

“What?” Eddie asks before realizing what you mean. “Oh, no! Nothing happened. We spoke maybe a handful of times ever. I just didn’t think this would be something you would want to hear about…”

Eddie brow pinches in worry but you just laugh and wave a dismissive hand.

“Eddie, come on. Who wouldn’t have a crush on the sweet, pretty cheerleader? I mean, I had a thing for my school’s star basketball player back in the day. You know that.”

Lucas laughs. “You definitely would’ve hated the star basketball player at our school.”

“Kid was a total douche,” Jeff adds. “Made these obnoxious, over-the-top speeches that had everybody rolling their eyes.”

“So, like Eddie, but athletic,” Gareth chimes in, putting his hands up in surrender when Eddie shoots him a look and then breaks into a grin.

The waiter brings out a chocolate cake, loudly singing Happy Birthday to Eddie, which promptly puts a stop to their bickering and taunting. The guys lock in on the dessert, serving Eddie the first slice before turning into barbarians over the second.

You finally manage to snag a slice among the chaos, but your mind is elsewhere. If Eddie was as into cheerleaders like his friends claim, you might be able to finagle one last birthday surprise.

A week passes from the dinner-turned-impromptu-Hellfire-meeting. Eddie saunters through the door, tossing his keys on the counter.

“Babe? You home?” His hair is kept in a low bun; it’s easier to work on cars with it out of his face.

“In the bedroom!” you call back from behind a half-closed door.

Eddie kicks his boots off in the general direction of the welcome mat. “How was your day, sweetheart?” he asks as he walks down the hallway towards your room. “Mine was pretty good. I just—holy shit.” He comes to a halt in the doorway, jaw dropping open as he stares at you.

You lounge on the bed waiting for him, a green and white cheerleading uniform on. There wasn’t one with some yellow on it as well like Hawkins High’s had when you’d gone looking, but you didn’t think your boyfriend would mind.

He stands frozen and it makes you let out a small giggle before trying to regain the seductive air you’d been going for.

“Wh…What’s all this?” he manages, caught completely off-guard by your outfit of choice.

“Just your own personal cheerleader,” you say nonchalantly, crooking your finger and beckoning him over. “Wanna see my pom-poms?”

His grin nearly splits his face in two. “Yeah—wait, do you mean, like, actual ones, or…” he trails off and shakes his head. “Ah, fuck it.” He grabs you and pulls you onto his lap.

“So, do I get to see a cheer?” he asks with a smirk. “A little, ‘two-four-six-eight, who do we appreciate?’”

You kiss his neck and murmur, “kinda figured my mouth would be busy somewhere else.” Your lips down the pale expanse of bis torso and you unbuckle his belt.

Eddie groans and leans back against the headboard, eagerly watching you. He lifts his hips enough so you can slide his pants and boxers all the way off and toss them aside.

You make sure to keep your gaze locked on his as you start to stroke him, using his pre-cum to lubricate your palm. “Tell me what you need, baby.”

He inhales sharply, trying to remain focused. “Need you to suck me off.”

You get on your knees in front of him so he can see down your uniform top, and he twitches against your lips. Flattening your tongue against the base of his shaft, you lick up to the head and wrap your lips around the tip before slowly taking him into your warm, wet mouth.

“Fuuuuuck,” Eddie breathes out, throwing his head back and exposing his Adam’s apple. “Thassit, just like that.”

The tang of pre-cum is salty on your tongue, and you lap it up gratefully. Your fingers dig into the flesh of his ass as you pull him towards you, your nose grazing his pubic hair.

“So good, goddamn, honey,” he mumbles, more gibberish than logic, “take me so well. Givin’ me the best fuckin’ head of my life.”

You’re more than happy to continue this, cheeks hollowed and tongue swirling around the sensitive tip, eagerly anticipating his cum down your throat.

Eddie has other plans.

He begrudgingly steps back, his throbbing cock thwacking against his stomach. If he pulls out of a blowjob, it usually means—

“Bend over, princess.”

You do as he says, palms pressed into the mattress. He quickly flips up your skirt, exposing your bare ass.

Eddie laughs triumphantly. “Oh, fuck yes.” He taps the head of his length against it before pushing down on your back, giving him a better view of your pussy. “Mine,” he growls in your ear.

The moan that tumbles out of your lips from his words only increases tenfold when he pushes inside of you. It makes Eddie smirk in satisfaction as his hands grip your hips beneath the pleats of the skirt. His eyes slip closed as he loses himself in the feeling of you around his cock.

You whine as Eddie bottoms out, fingers grasping at the blanket below you. “God, Eddie, yes.”

Eddie’s thrusts gain momentum and he pulls your hips back against him for every one, never missing a beat. “Shit, you’re so fucking good for me. Your pussy’s so goddamn tight, fuck.”

“Mhm, uh-huh.” The drag of his cock against your walls leaves you speechless, only able to whine, no coherent thoughts in your head.

“My cheerleader feels good, huh? Aw, baby,” he coos, “so good you can’t even talk, yeah?”

Even if you had the capability to answer, you wouldn’t have time before Eddie pulls out of you for the second time today and flips you onto your back. Your legs fall open for him immediately in this new position and he wastes no time pushing back into you.

He leans over your body, slipping his hands up the top half of your uniform. “Most beautiful cheerleader I ever fuckin’ saw,” he purrs as his hands grope your chest.

Your legs wrap around his body, only pulling him deeper inside of you. “So good,” you slur, eyes half-lidded. You feel your orgasm crash over you, waves of pleasure rippling through your body.

Eddie’s hands slip out of your top and run down your arms until he laces his fingers with yours. He lifts your hands over your head, keeping a tight grip on you as his hips pick up the pace. Now that you came, he can take what he needs.

“So tight,” he mumbles, breathing heavily. You can tell that he’s close. “Gonna cum all over this pretty little uniform of yours, ‘kay?”

You can only nod, and he leans in and kisses you one last time before pulling out and painting you in his release. Sticky warmth coats the exposed strip of flesh between the top and skirt, some of it staining the uniform’s fabric. He moans out your name as he jerks the last of his spend out of his cock.

“Holy shit,” he exhales, drinking in the sight of you in your cheerleader outfit and covered in his cum. His sexy cheerleader wearing his cum. The thought has him almost up for another round already.

He leans over to the nightstand and reaches for a tissue to clean you up, but you wave him off. Your hand catches his wrist and you softly run your fingertips up to his elbow.

“Leave it,” you tell him with a smirk. “I want it to stain.” You’ll wake up in the morning to it dried on the uniform, a reminder of tonight.

“Goddamn, baby.” Eddie lets out a breathy chuckle and flops down next to you, completely exhausted. “I was not expecting this, but I’m certainly not complaining.”

“Well,” you say, a teasing lilt in your voice. You push up onto one elbow, and gaze at him knowingly. His hair is a mess, his chest is rising and falling rapidly. He looks wrecked, and it’s a beautiful sight. “You’d better drink some Gatorade, babe. Because this is only halftime.”

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