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nadvs · 2 months

Text

cam girl (part five)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you work two jobs. by day, you’re a maid for the cameron household, where rafe degrades you any chance he can get. by night, you’re a cam girl, hiding your face so nobody can recognize you. when you discover your new subscriber, the filthy-mouthed man obsessively paying you to do everything he can think of, is rafe, you’re not sure what to do next.

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You were too tired to wake up to your alarm. You snoozed for an extra hour under a mountain of blankets, drifting in and out of consciousness.

When you finally feel ready to start your Sunday, it’s almost 10, and your mind slowly pieces together everything that happened last night.

Rafe has become your sugar daddy. There’s no doubt about it, no other word for it. At this point, you’re sure he’s given you almost ten grand.

You remain lying in bed and pick up your phone to see he texted you five minutes ago. After the $3000 transfer last night, you had quickly saved his number.

Rafe: sore?

You reply: as fuck.

Rafe: you loved it

You roll your eyes. Of course you loved it.

You think of the way he spoke to you, mumbling that you’re beautiful and praising the sounds you made. The way he thrusted into you and called your pussy so fucking perfect. The way his skin slapped against yours with his rough jolts. Remembering it makes your stomach twist with arousal.

You reply: so did you

Your phone buzzes again.

Rafe: send an ass pic

You: are you always horny?

Rafe: pretty much. woke up hard

You: and i’m the needy one… lmao

Rafe: are u sending it or not

You smile to yourself at how bad he wants you. You push the blankets off your body. You had fallen asleep in a cold room, your radiator refusing to come back to life no matter how hard you tried, so you’re covered head to toe under fleece pajamas.

The way Rafe reacted to your heat being broken replays in your mind. He seemed so dumbfounded by the idea that you couldn’t just fix something without worrying about the cost.

Then he sent you the exact amount you need to fix it. The fact that you can ask for however much you want and he’ll probably send it without hesitation still throws you for a loop. It’s an odd feeling not having to worry about money.

Thankfully, the morning sun has warmed up your bedroom. You pull your pants and underwear down in one smooth movement, turn onto your front and angle your phone camera.

You can smell Rafe on your pillow. The aroma of his cologne is so unbelievably nice, memories already connected to it.

You lie on your back again, pulling the blanket over you, and send him the photo, a low angle image of your naked asscheeks. You gaze at your screen, anticipating what he’ll say.

But he doesn’t send any words. Just a picture. Your eyes travel over the bulge making a tent in his black boxer briefs. You can see the trail of soft, light hair that leads down to his cock.

Your body tightens at the image. He felt so damn good last night. You can’t wait until the next time he’s inside you.

You text: wish u were here?

Rafe: i’d fuck u even harder than i did last night

You: you wouldn’t make me wait hours for it? wow…

Rafe: you’re so wet right now aren’t you

You can imagine the way he’d say that. He’s so smug. And so right. You dip a hand below the blanket between your legs, your soft folds drenched.

maybe, you reply.

Rafe: you took my cock so good

You bite your lip reading his words. The photo of his covered erection isn’t enough. You need more.

You: show me it

Rafe: you’d like that huh

You: i can just find some porn if you won’t do it

Rafe: don’t even fucking joke about getting off to some other guy’s dick

You smirk. You got to him like you hoped you would.

You: what? i can’t tease you too?

Rafe: no

You: send me a pic then. u know i deserve it

Rafe: only good girls deserve it

You: idk if good girls play with their pussies on camera… maybe i should stop doing that

Rafe: shut up. ur doing it for me every night

He’s so damn worked up that it’s funny. You shrug to yourself, opening another app, letting him sweat.

Your phone buzzes moments later, a notification from him dropping from the top of your screen.

Rafe: ???

You reply: you told me to shut up. i’m listening

He only texts your name.

You: rafe :)

A picture finally comes in. You take in the image of his dick, glad you finally have a chance to appreciate him in brighter lighting. The other photos that he sent over the cam chat were so dark, but now you can see the veins that run down his shaft, the swell of the tip, his large hand gripping the base.

You don’t think you could ever get tired of it.

You: am i allowed to touch myself?

Even through the power struggle between you two, you love giving him the control of when you can orgasm.

Rafe: if you promise me something

You: what?

Rafe: i can watch you play with your asshole tonight

Jesus. He’s unhinged. When he sent that message telling you that you’ll be doing a lot of new things with him, he wasn’t kidding.

The thought of doing this for him is stirring. None of the other guys on cam ever asked for anything like that.

You: i can do that

Rafe: get the toy i bought you. text when ur ready

You drop your phone and rush to find the vibrator, feeling like you’re throbbing now. When you’re all adjusted, you text him: ready.

Your breath hitches as the toy starts to buzz at a brutalizing intensity. You cross your legs, squeeze your chest, and groan as you think about him.

You orgasm within a minute. It feels good, but not as good as when Rafe is actually with you. With him, it’s a new level of ecstasy. Fuck. He may have ruined masturbation for you.

You pick up your phone.

You: might have to go back to sleep after that…

Your phone flashes a notification of $100 being transferred into your digital wallet.

Rafe: order breakfast for yourself

The amount he sent is ridiculous. What kind of place does he get breakfast from?

You doze off again, waking up half an hour later. After ordering food, you send Rafe a screenshot of the confirmation receipt and text: thanks baby <3

Rafe: did u call about the heat yet

You reply: i will

Rafe: do it now

You: bossy

Rafe: now

God, does he love to be in control. You follow his instructions and find the repair place you called last time and make an appointment to get your radiator replaced tomorrow afternoon.

It’s an unreal feeling - your problem being solved in the snap of a finger. This is a little taste of wealth.

You know not to read into it. Rafe’s not doing any of this of the kindness of his heart. Spoiling you is obviously one of the many things he gets off on. But you’re happy to go along with it. Especially considering $3000 is pocket change to this man.

When breakfast is dropped off, you notice a box addressed to you sitting in front of your door. You open it to find a new webcam. Rafe mentioned he’d buy it yesterday. He moves fast.

The day feels long and at 10 pm, you finally log on with the hope that Rafe will do what he did last night and come over instead of making you crave him throughout your session, leaving you to fuck yourself while fantasizing about him.

You’re wearing the ‘princess’ top you bought with his money, matching with pink underwear.

He joins the session and lust fires through you already.

“Hey,” you purr. “How’s the new camera look?”

figure8: much better

figure8 tipped you $100.

“What’s that for?” you giggle.

figure8: for looking so pretty

“Thanks, baby,” you say. “Is this pretty, too?”

You immediately turn onto your knees, looking back at the camera at the sight of your lace panties stretched over your ass.

figure8: goddamn

You smile.

figure8: you get me hard in a fucking second

“Yeah?” you coo. “Did you like my ass pic today?”

figure8: fuck yes. you ever done anal?

You laugh at how direct he is. You never have to wonder what Rafe’s thinking.

You hadn’t gone into that territory, but something about Rafe made you feel adventurous. “No, but maybe I’d try it with you.”

figure8: maybe?

“Depends on your mood,” you say.

figure8: the fuck does that mean

“I had to cum three times for you the other day. But yesterday, you wouldn’t let me do it for fucking hours.” You shrug. “If you make me wait that long again, you’re not getting anything.”

figure8: its honestly really fucking cute how you think you make the rules lol

“Shut up.”

figure8: im not getting anything… sure. i didnt let u cum all day but you were still begging me to fuck you last night

“I hate you,” you laugh.

figure8: you love me and this dick

figure 8: let me see you squeeze your ass

You’re so turned on already, resting your hands on your ass and kneading the flesh. You roam over your skin, fondling and grabbing, then move your fingers to the back of your thighs and bounce your asscheeks for him with your hands.

figure8: fuckkk just like that

“You like these panties?” you ask. The lace leaves nothing to the imagination.

figure8: i wanna see them ripped off

“These were expensive,” you pout.

figure8 tipped you $500.

figure8: there, you can buy more

“God, how much do you think they cost?” you laugh.

figure8: rip them off right now

You dip your fingers beneath the frilly border of the underwear and try to pull them apart. The lace digs into your skin and you finally hear a tear, the fabric giving way.

You watch your image in the screen, the pink lace pulling apart over your asscheeks.

figure8: shake ur ass

You oblige, arching your back, imagining him sitting behind you, big hands on your waist while you writhe and bounce for him.

figure8: let me see ur asshole

The request is probably the most obscene thing he’s ever asked of you. But you like that he does this, that he pushes you into new experiences.

You’re shaking with arousal as you watch yourself obey his orders, spreading open for him.

figure8: holy fucking shit

figure8: i know you’d loooove it up the ass

figure8: get close so i can see you suck on your finger

You’re puzzled at the request, but you obey anyways, turning to face the screen. You shift closer to your laptop and seductively stick your forefinger into your hot mouth, sucking it with quiet moans.

You’re reminded of how he shoved his finger in your mouth last night. Shit, last night was perfect.

figure8: is it nice and wet?

“Mhm.”

figure8: wanna put that finger in your ass for me?

You bite your lip, apprehension inching up your skin. He seems to notice your nervousness.

figure8: nice and slow, baby. you can do it

You nod, turning to spread your ass for him again, then slowly push your digit into your tight hole. You breathe through the pressure, dipping each inch of your finger in with caution, finding pleasure in the new sensation.

figure8: hows it feel?

“Good,” you breathe. You sit up to grab the lube in your nightstand that you bought when you started camming and sit in front of the camera, opening the bottle.

“You want me to try two fingers?” you ask.

figure8: fuck yes

You squeeze the slippery liquid onto your forefinger and middle finger and get onto all fours, angling your ass towards the camera.

When you slip both fingers inside, you arch your back and breathe shakily. Your eyes squeeze shut as you enter your body in a new way for him.

As hot as it is to be doing this for him, now that you’ve had a taste of what it’s like having his body melt into yours, you need him. This just isn’t satisfying enough anymore.

figure8: u like that?

“Mhm,” you moan. “Maybe it’d be better if I try with the dildo?”

You get the reaction you were hoping for.

figure8: the first dick in that ass isn’t gonna be some toy. it’ll be mine, you understand?

“Okay,” you say, brows furrowed, a tone of disappointment in your voice.

figure8: you want it tonight, don’t you?

“Yeah, baby,” you whimper, writhing in anticipation. “I want it tonight.”

figure8 tipped you $1000.

figure8 has left the session.

You smirk to yourself. It seems like this’ll be your and Rafe’s special version of foreplay. Maybe you’ll always begin with a cam show he pays you for, the same way you two started this wild affair, and then he’ll race over and have his way with you.

You decide to pull off your shirt so you can greet him fully naked.

When you hear his knock at the door, your skin prickles with anticipation. Rafe comes in frenzied, slamming the door behind him, grabbing your face in his hands and pushing you back into your bedroom.

“Already naked for me,” he rasps, standing in the middle of your bedroom, holding you, towering over you. “My needy girl.”

“Don’t make me wait any longer, then,” you whisper.

Rafe guides you onto your bed, hovering over top of you, his lips hungrily kissing and sucking on your mouth over and over.

With your back against your sheets, you roll your body beneath his, the sensation of his jeans and t-shirt rubbing on your bare skin wildly sexy.

You swear you can feel his cock jerk under his jeans and you breathe out a contented sigh.

“What?” he asks, pulling back with his forehead still pressed against yours.

“Your cock is twitching,” you tease, slipping your hand under his shirt to feel his hot skin. You pull his shirt off and toss it onto the floor.

Rafe lifts his body slightly and dips his hand between your legs, making you sharply inhale as he spreads your lips apart.

“And you’re so fucking wet,” he replies, like he’s trying to one-up you. You shudder as his fingers run up and down your slit.

He brings his hand up to suck on the tips of his fingers, hard eyes on you, and you feel like you might lose your mind over how hot the shared moment is.

“You taste so good,” he says, voice rough. He comes back down to kiss you hard, then shifts to put his mouth on your tits.

You jerk when he grazes a nipple with his teeth, a moan spilling out of your lips. Your eyes flutter shut, feeling him pinch and grip you.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk,” Rafe says against your cleavage. “You want that?”

“Yes, yes, please.”

“My good girl,” he praises. You hear him fumbling with his jeans, the zipper slipping down quickly, and he plunges into you with no warning, with such a rough blow that you whimper.

You feel your body swallow his thickness, stretching to adjust to his size. He curves into you so perfectly.

Rafe pulls back and rocks into you again, your body jolting with his pressure. His chest is pressed against yours and he shifts to the side to put his hand at your throat, long fingers around your neck.

He squeezes gently, still pounding into you.

“Tighter,” you whisper.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he says with a breathy laugh, like he can’t believe that you exist, that you’re taking him like this.

His fingers tighten on the sides of your neck as the sound of smacking flesh fills your bedroom. You grunt with every heavenly pump he gives you, his balls swinging against your ass.

“You take it so good,” he breathes. You tilt your head back, letting his big hand grip your neck better. You’re so grateful he didn’t torment you by making you wait this time.

“Get on top,” Rafe groans into your ear, drawing out of you. “I wanna watch you ride me.”

His hands find your hips as he helps pull you over him. With your palms against his firm pecs, you sink onto him, his cock hitting a new angle.

“Fuck,” you choke out. “Oh, my God, Rafe.”

“You like that, huh, baby?” he says, dimples framing his cocky smile.

You start to bounce with your legs bent and framing his torso, leaning forward so your clit rubs around the base of his cock. The feeling of him filling you and the friction against your sensitive spot makes your eyes roll back in your head.

Your heart starts to pound harder as you massage yourself with his dick, grinding at the perfect pace. You look down at him, meeting his blue eyes, as you roll your hips so you can feel him in every possible way.

You dip your head, panting and moaning as he grips your hips. You’ve never wanted to scream from pleasure so badly.

“I know, princess,” he drawls. “I know it feels good.”

The waves of pleasure are so damn nice that you moan and cover your mouth with your hand so your neighbors don’t hear how loud you’re being.

Rafe roughly grabs your wrist and pulls your hand down.

“Don’t do that,” he instructs.

“My neighbors-“

“Let ‘em hear how much you love this dick,” he says. You feel like you could cum from his words alone.

“F-fuck,” you stammer, grinding faster and harder. “Oh, fuck.”

“You gonna cum?” he teases. A part of you is afraid he’ll push himself out of you, delay your orgasm.

“Please let me,” you whine, “please, baby.”

“I’ll let you,” Rafe says with an amused chuckle. “God, you’re my fucking dream girl.”

The pleasure spikes in you so damn high that you feel your limbs go numb. You cry out as you dissolve into pleasure in its purest form, continuing to ride him as the orgasm hits you, tightening around him in pulses.

“There you go,” he says soothingly, encouragingly.

You bend over on top of him, resting your cheek on his chest, hearing his heart in your ear. Rafe’s warm hand strokes up and down your back as you spasm on top of him.

As your gasps slow down, his hands find your ass. He jiggles your cheeks in his hands and you giggle breathily.

“You gonna let me cum in that ass?” he asks you.

“You can cum anywhere you want,” you breathe, feeling cockdrunk. Rafe’s chest rumbles with his laugh.

You sit up and slowly pull yourself off of him, his hard cock bobbing once it’s out of you.

Even though you’re sure you already made his cock wet enough, you hand him the bottle of lube before getting on all fours on your bed. You look back at him to see him slathering his cock with lube.

“I’ll go slow, princess,” he promises. “I’ll stretch you out first.”

You squeeze your pillow and place it so that you can sink your face into it as he fucks you. With your head dug into the soft cotton, you feel Rafe’s big hands grope your ass.

He spreads your cheeks apart and groans.

“Every part of you is so pretty,” he huffs. “You gonna take my cock in any hole I want, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you moan, muscles still weak from your orgasm.

You feel a finger slowly enter you and you arch your back, eyes squeezing shut. It’s so new but so fucking nice. The pressure is higher than when you did it on camera for him, his finger bigger than yours.

“There you go,” he coaches as he pushes deeper inside of you. “Shit, it’s so fucking tight. I’m gonna cum in a second, baby, I know it.”

“Fuck, Rafe,” you mumble. “It feels amazing.”

He adds a second finger, working in and out to stretch you out some more. You push back against his fingers to encourage him to go deeper.

“I want to fuck your ass so hard right now,” he groans on the verge of a whine.

“Do it,” you say. “I’m ready. Do it.”

His fingers pull out of you and you feel him spit on you, warm saliva dribbling over your opening. Finally, you feel the tip of his cock start to push into your ass.

The pressure stings as he buries into you and you try not to slump, you try to stay firm for him.

“Oh, my God,” he moans as he fills you. “Fucking… Oh, my fuck…”

His raw, untamed rambling gives you a sense of willpower to stay still and ignore your body’s impulse to pull away from the unfamiliar pain.

Rafe finally presses his base against your ass, filling your hole up completely.

He retreats, giving you some relief, then pounds into you again. The feeling is a good pain as he starts to thrash in and out, his fingers so tight on your hips that you know he’ll bruise you.

He pulls away a hand and you suddenly feel a hard smack on your ass that makes you gasp. He keeps fucking you hard, plunging in and out with a frenzied pace.

“You like it, princess?” he says between breaths. “You like it up the ass? I was right, wasn’t I?”

“Yes,” you groan, the feeling pleasurable now that you’re getting used to it. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

“It’s not just your pussy that’s mine, is it?” he taunts. “It’s your ass. Your mouth. Your tits. All of you. Fucking all of you.”

His claim of ownership on you is so fucking intoxicating that you almost forget all this is supposed to be is hot, casual sex.

You push away the thought, refusing to let it ruin things. This is just fun. This is all this is.

“Goddamn, and you were just…” he groans as he keeps fucking you. “You were just�� fuck, just always around and looking so fucking hot. I never thought I’d get to fuck you.”

You bite your lip at his words, lost in the feeling of a man wanting you this bad. Of Rafe wanting you this bad. You knew he loved to tease you, but shit, he was yearning for you this much whenever you came to clean his house?

“Oh, fuck…” Rafe’s deep voice gives out as you feel him pulse his hot cum into you, his body jerking against you.

He eventually slowly pulls out and you feel his hand slowly rub over the curve of your ass.

“Stay like this,” he says. “I wanna watch my cum drip out of you.” Just when you think he can’t get any filthier, Rafe surprises you. Every damn time.

Once he’s satisfied, you feel him plant a kiss on your ass before he shifts away to put on his underwear.

Your smile is slack as you drop onto your side, hand resting on your forehead. You feel utterly fucked out. He didn’t lie. You won’t be able to walk tomorrow. You watch his chest rise and fall when he lies down next to you.

Again, Rafe surprises you that he’s staying, even if it’s just a little while. He seems like such a fuck and chuck kind of guy. It’s what you expected. Kind of what you welcomed.

He looks at you, amused by how hard you’re gasping for breath.

“Damn, you won’t even need your heat on tonight, huh?” Rafe says. “Gave you a whole fucking workout.”

“If it’ll be like this every night, I’ll cancel,” you joke lazily.

“Cancel?”

“Mhm,” you say tiredly, eyes closing.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean?” you whisper.

He says your name stern enough that you pop open your eyes.

“I’ll cancel the appointment,” you clarify.

“They didn’t already fix it?”

“Tomorrow was the soonest they could do.” His brows furrow in what looks like anger. You can’t help but chuckle a little. “What’s the big deal?”

“So, you spend another night cold?”

“It’s not that bad,” you say. “I have lots of blankets… and…” You yawn. “A space heater… and… my pajamas…”

You realize you’re lying on top of a thin sheet completely naked but you’re too exhausted to care that you’ll wake up cold. It’s like Rafe fucked the energy out of you.

“I have to lock the door behind you,” you remember. You sit up, rubbing your eyes so you stay alert. “I don’t know if you realized but this isn’t a gated community.”

“Should I… uh, do you want a hotel room or something?” Rafe asks.

You look at him, his head on your pillow, his hair a mess, and offer him a confused smile.

“Hotel?” you repeat.

“If it’s gonna be cold in here.”

“Oh, that radiator has broken a million times,” you say. “I’ve survived a lot of cold nights. I don’t need a penthouse suite.”

Rafe gazes at you with an indistinguishable look.

You feel a bit awkward now. You know he’ll leave eventually, but if he doesn’t do it now, you’ll pass out and he’ll leave the door unlocked.

You stand to keep yourself awake, finding a clean pair of underwear and an oversized t-shirt.

“Same time tomorrow?” you try to joke.

“I can stay and…” he says. He sits up, his hair falling over his forehead, his stomach flexing. “Uh, I can… hold you. If you want. So you’re not cold.”

You stand in the middle of your small room, looking down at Rafe, and can’t help but notice how out of place he looks. His large, half-naked frame on your small double bed, his expensive clothes drawn out on your squeaky, scratched up floor, offering to cuddle you to sleep.

This is supposed to be purely sexual. You’ve been having fun and adding to your bank account, while letting him live out his fantasies to sexually and financially dominate the help. That’s all you are to him: a depraved cam girl who cleans his house. Right?

But now, he’s acting… well, nice. Like he’s not just a fuck buddy who gets turned on by giving you money and buying you things. And it’s unexpected.

You’re not sure what to do.

{ read part six here }

2K notes · View notes

captainfern · 10 months

Note

I have a request/idea! What about Price being away, and coming home to the reader late at night unexpectedly? They've already gone to bed, and he sees the way they try to find comfort in his absence? (Cuddled up with his pillow, wearing a set of his old dogtags, and his shirt, seeing one of his nice cigars half-burned in an ashtray because they were using it like incense, etc) Could be pure fluff and sleepy cuddles or the reader could wake up and have an enthusiastic reunion with him?

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Where Did You Sleep Last Night

Captain John Price x gn!reader

[“Where Did You Sleep Last Night” by Nirvana]

[sfw]

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• summary - what the request says :) • rating - sfw • wordcount - 1.2k • warnings - gn!reader [referred to as 'my love', 'darling' etc], pure fluff and cosiness, strong language as usual because i clearly have a very limited expressive vocabulary lmao—

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Although he was beyond exhausted when he returned home from a rough deployment, Price never let it show. He was intent on striding into his home and being instantly greeted by you, no matter the time. The middle of the night, the early hours of the morning, you'd be there to greet him, and it was his favourite part of coming home.

Coming home to you.

More than often, he'd barely get in the door before you were wrapping your arms around him, or jumping into his arms. Some days, you were insatiable— pulling at his belt, shoving your hands beneath his shirt, sucking bruises on his neck. On more than a few occasions, you and Price didn't even make it to the couch, let alone your bed.

Other days, it was pure bliss— he'd hug you tight as you peppered soft kisses across his face. You'd cook for him, massage his tight muscles, tend to the cuts and bruises and the fresh scars along his body. You'd rub his hair as he rested his head in your lap while you told him about what you'd been up to the days, weeks, months he'd been away.

It's not that he didn't love the sex. Of course he fucking did. But the domesticity that came with you, your hugs and kisses and your beautiful voice was all that he needed most days.

And that's what he craved today as he walked up the front steps and unlocked the front door.

It was two in the morning. Hardly any cars on the road, no birdsong in the trees. It was pitch black outside, except for the crescent moon and the twinkle of stars in the sky. As Price approached the house, he noticed not many of the lights were on. Usually, you'd leave the front hall light on for him if he got home late, but even the kitchen light was off, meaning you weren't waiting for him there.

He pushed the door open and stepped inside, listening to the silence of your shared home. He kicked off his boots, still waiting for you to sprint down the hall and launch yourself into his awaiting arms.

But you didn't, which Price found odd.

He dumped his bags in the hall too and checked the kitchen, living room and dining room. You weren't there, cooking, or watching TV, or scrolling through your phone. He huffed quietly to himself, double-checking all the doors were locked before he moved towards the main bedroom.

The door was open a crack, and Price could smell something familiar. Your perfume, of course, that he absolutely loved. But, was that cigar smoke?

His cigar smoke?

He pushed the door open, and his heart lurched when he saw you. You looked like a fucking dream.

You were on his side of the bed, closest to the door, lying on your stomach with your arms curled beneath his pillow. The blankets had dropped down your body, revealing that you were wearing one of his shirts— his favourite shirt, too, that he wore right before he left. And on the bedside table, a dead cigar that, at one point, was lit. It hadn't been smoked from, Price could tell, but it had been lit— lit enough that the smell lingered in the room like incense.

He could smell his cologne, too. Like it'd been spritzed around the room like fucking air freshener.

Price couldn't help the overwhelming pride that surged within him, seeing you like this. So desperate for anything him. You looked so peaceful like this, and it made Price's heart swell.

But, he couldn't prevent that small tickle of guilt in the base of his stomach. He swallowed thickly, emotion dense in his throat as he approached the bed. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, stroking your cheek with a large hand.

You stirred, groaning. Price cursed himself for waking you but, in all honesty, he wasn't sorry. Not now that he could talk to you, touch you, be near you.

"Mm? Price?" You muttered, turning onto your back and sitting up, rubbing your eyes.

"M'here, my love."

Your heart soared out of your chest as you wrapped your arms around Price, dragging him onto the bed. He offered little resistance, letting you roll him onto you. He all but crushed you in his arms, insistent on not letting you go. He buried his face into your hair while you buried your face into the crook of his neck, trying not to sob.

"Missed you," you mumbled, voice hoarse from sleep and tickling the sensitive skin on Price's throat. "Missed you so much."

"I know, my love, I missed you too," Price said, shifting to the side so you were both laying on the bed. "M'sorry for being away for so long."

"S'all right," you whispered. "Glad you're home."

Your hands were quick to move under his shirt, but not in a sexual way. You sought his warmth, his skin. You smoothed your palms down the soft ridges of his muscles, then up along his ribs, before they skirted around his back and pulled him closer.

"I haven't had a shower, my love." Price told you as your hands rubbed up and down his back, basking in his warmth.

You grunted at him, face now buried in his chest, directly between his pecs. He huffed a laugh, pulling you closer to that one leg was thrown around his hip. He held your lower back, rubbing gentle circles.

"Did you light one of my good cigars?" Price joked after his eyes flickered to the ashtray on the bedside table, a dead cigar inside.

You hummed. "Yeah. Missed the smell of you."

Price's heart clenched painfully. He loved you so much.

"And... this is my shirt," He pinched the fabric, rubbing it between his fingers. "I wore it before I left. Did you even wash it?"

You shook your head, breathing hard into his chest. "No, why would I? Then it wouldn't smell like you anymore."

He didn't reply, just pulled you closer. And that's how you two stayed for a while; just holding each other, absorbing each others presence, basking in each others warmth.

After a long while, Price cleared his throat. "I, uh, missed you not greeting me at the door."

You tucked your head up so you could look at him. "Oh, Price, I'm sorry. I was so tired, and I was supposed to set an alarm, but I forgot."

"S'all right, darling," Price said, kissing the top of your head. "I'm sorry for waking you."

"Don't apologise," you whispered, kissing him. "If you didn't, I would've been pissed anyway."

He laughed against your lips, and you shared a long, lazy kiss. Eventually, you parted, and Price went to move so he could have a shower. You groaned, loud, holding him to you as he attempted to get off the bed.

"Nooooo—"

"I haven't had a shower, love."

"Ughhh, I don't care. We can wash the sheets tomorrow."

"Darling—"

"Price, just get into fucking bed, I swear to god."

Price laughed at that. You let him go just long enough for him to take off his pants and shirt, before he settled next to you half naked. You whined in glee, cuddling up to his chest, enjoying the warmth and weight of his arms around you, his chin resting on the top of your head.

"I love you," Price whispered. "So much."

"I love you too, sir."

He exhaled deeply and you giggled against his chest.

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

#captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #captain john price #captain price #fem reader #price x reader #captain john price x female reader

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hier--soir · 1 year

Text

cat's outta the bag

joel miller x f!reader

rating: explicit, 18+ mdni summary: 3 times they almost got caught, and 1 time that they did warnings/tags: [18+, minors DNI] fwb!joel, language, smut, unprotected PIV sex, oral [f & m recieving], literally just porn lmao word count: 4.9k series masterlist | masterlist this is part two of my fwb!joel series. you can find the other parts here: one, three, four.

A shelf was digging painfully into your shoulder blade, and the sharp edge of it nudged dully into your flesh with every one of Joel’s movements. He had you pinned up on the countertop, your pants around your knees. He’d been so eager, so pent up after a fortnight of not getting to touch you. Your patrols hadn’t been matching up, and you’d both been busy with friends, and odd jobs, and life. After three hours on horseback the pair of you had finally reached the checkpoint, and you’d only managed to get his zipper undone and tug his pants down a fraction before he’d shoved you up on the bench, stepping between your legs.

The safehouse was dank and dusty, nothing but a dilapidated hiding place with a few stashed weapons and a logbook on the coffee table to leave patrol notes in. The two of you had fucked there many times, on quiet patrol days. Sometimes it was just to pass the time; just something to do to cure a mutual boredom. Other times, this time, it was a frustration release.

Joel’s hips pounded mercilessly into you, his cock pushing heavily against the deepest part of you with every thrust. One of his hands gripped your waist, and the other was under your shirt, fingers circling and tugging on your nipple as you gasped wetly into his mouth.

“Never goin’ two weeks without fuckin’ you again,” he grunted against your lips, puffing out heavy breaths. “Been fuckin’ my first every night like a goddamn teenager, imagining it was your pussy.”

“Shit, Joel,” you moaned, thighs tightening around his waist. His hand drifted from your waist down past your hip to grip your leg behind your knee, holding it in place against his hip. You cringed in pain as your shoulder struck the shelf again with a particularly rough thrust, but couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. Couldn’t risk him stopping, couldn’t risk it when your orgasm was so fucking close.

Your hands were under his shirt, and your nails dug into the skin of his back, no doubt leaving red marks in your wake. His cock was thick and heavy inside of you, stretching you out deliciously after two weeks of missing him. Hard as you tried, your fingers could never produce the same effect as this; you feared nothing, and no one would ever compare to the way he fucked you.

His mouth was on your neck, spitting curses as he bucked into you. Stars burst behind your eyelids, and you pulsed around him, a ringing filling your ears as you fell over the edge. Euphoria filled your bloodstream, and a loud bang filled the room as his hand slammed down onto the counter beside you. Joel was grunting in your ear, chasing his own end now that he knew you were satisfied. But as his hips began to stutter against yours, losing their rhythm, a faint whistle could be heard from outside the house.

The pair of you froze, his hips stilling with his length fully sheathed in you. Your soaked cunt was still pulsing around him, the aftershocks of your orgasm making your body shake against the bench.

“It’s Dina and Jesse,” you muttered quickly, the realisation dawning on you that they were there to relieve the two of you from your patrol. Joel’s face pulled back from your neck and you cringed to see his thunderous expression. His lips were pursed tightly, harsh exhales huffing out of his nose, and a gorgeous blush painted his cheeks. Reluctantly, he dragged his hand out from under your shirt, but made no move to step back. Frustration rolled off him in waves, his chest rising and falling with short sharp breaths.

“Joel,” you snapped urgently, hand pressing on his chest. “They’ll be in here any second.”

“Fuck,” he snarled, pulling his hips away from you and groaning at the feeling of his length slipping out of your heat. You dropped off the bench quickly, cringing at the sudden emptiness as you pulled your pants up around your hips. His cock was out of his jeans, head painfully red and weeping pre-cum. You could tell he was aching from the way he gripped himself, thumb stroking along a vein that protruded along his length as he stared at you intensely. There were getting closer to the door now, and you could hear them talking softly. Joel must have heard them too, because he tucked himself into his pants and did his belt up quickly, walking over to the coffee table and scribbling quickly in the logbook.

When Dina and Jesse walked through the door you offered them a quick nod, shouldering your rifle and gripping your pack, attempting to walk normally and not be obvious about how painful the ache between your thighs was.

“Took your fucking time,” Joel grunted at them, before slipping out the front door and stalking towards the horses.

You’d had a long day at the greenhouse. Summer was in full swing, and the sun bore down on you all day. By the end of your shift, a headache was twinging at your temple, and there was a light red tinge across your shoulders and nose.

You didn’t think twice before bypassing your own home, and heading directly to Joel’s. He answered your knock at the door after only a few seconds, and the frown on his face slid off when he saw you.

“Jesus,” he huffed a laugh. “You forget to put a hat on today, sunshine?”

“It’s been a long day,” is all you said. “Are you home alone?” His eyes darkened as he understood what you were asking, and he stepped aside to let you in.

You didn’t make it up the stairs. He pushed you down onto the couch, kissing and sucking at your neck, lips trailing down your body as he tugged your shorts off your legs. Running your fingers through his short dark hair, you pulled gently on the strands, revelling in the sighs of contentment he let out against your thigh. Hands rubbed into your skin, and goosebumps rippled across your flesh despite the heat, as he knocked your knees apart and knelt on the hardwood floor between your legs.

“This what you want?” he looked up at you, desire swimming in his dark brown eyes. “You get all sweaty and sunburnt and then come here for me to kiss it better?”

You nodded pathetically as he kissed the inside of your knee, holding your gaze.

“Wanna hear you say it.”

“Yes,” you breathed, gripping the collar of his shirt. “Had a shit day, need you to make it better.”

He licked a stripe along the inside of your thigh, and you sighed heavily, chest rising and falling quickly as he worked his way closer to the ache between your legs. When his fingers grazed the front of your underwear, he groaned to feel how wet the material was.

“Y’always get so wet for me,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to the fabric. You flinched, your cunt throbbing.

“Just a coincidence,” you said, smiling lazily as his tongue dragged against the fabric, giving you both a tease of what was to come. He didn’t respond, impatiently pushing the material to the side, before dragging two of his fingers through your slick folds. He didn’t waste any time, one of his thick digits slipping past your entrance and curling inside of you. His eyes watched you closely as he pulled his hand back and sucked his finger into his mouth, licking the taste of you off his skin.

“Fucking perfect,” he muttered, gripping your underwear, and removing it hastily. He threw the garment somewhere over his shoulder, and before you could criticise him, his large hands were gripping your thighs and tugging them over his shoulders. You gasped in surprise, dropping down on the couch. “Let me kiss it better now.”

His nose dragged through the dark curls on your mound, inhaling deeply. Without warning, he ducked his head and his broad tongue dragged through your folds. A haggard sigh tore from your lips at the sensation. You let your head drop back against the top of his couch, closing your eyes.

Tired mumbles of his name and curses fell from your lips and you rocked your hips up, eager for more friction. Your nose scrunched up as his tongue circled your entrance, nose bumping your clit, and you winced as your sunburnt skin crinkled. You willed your face to relax, and breathed deeply as he fucked you with his mouth.

Looking down for a moment, your stomach tightened to see him watching your reactions as his mouth worked greedily, sucking, and licking into you.

You could feel yourself nearing your end already. He always knew how to get you there, knew exactly what made you tick. But as you went to verbalise it, to tell him how close you were, how good it felt, a rapid knock came at the door. Your eye twitched at the sound, and you looked in the direction of the sound. Unperturbed, Joel continued his ministrations, gripping your thighs closer to his head and fucking into you with his tongue. You whimpered softly and felt your thighs begin to shake where they rested on his shoulders.

You cried out his name as he changed his rhythm, tongue flicking quickly across your clit in side-to-side movements. As the heat began to build again, another sharp knock landed on his front door and you cursed loudly, in annoyance this time.

“Joel?” a woman’s voice called from outside. “Are you home?”

“Is that Natalie fucking Wilson,” you hissed, pushing his face away from you. The woman worked at the stables, and it was painfully obvious to everyone how smitten she was with Joel. Her eyes would follow him everywhere he went; on the street, when he came through the stables on patrol, when she spotted him the Tipsy Bison. She acted like a dog on heat when he was around, and you didn’t blame her; your friend was attractive. But you never thought she’d come knocking at his fucking door.

Joel’s eyes were dazed as he looked up, finally registering the sound of her voice outside. His lips were parted as he breathed deeply, staring up at you, pupils dilated. Your slick made his lips and beard shine, and your heart pounded at the sight of him looking so blissed out just from going down on you.

“Did you know she was coming over?” you groused, moving to sit up straight.

“Don’t know what she wants,” he grunted, his forearm moving to press across your stomach, holding you down. “Ignore it.” He pressed messy kisses against your pussy, trying to convince you.

“Joel,” you huffed moments later when she knocked again, frustrating spiking in your already tense muscles. “She’s not going anywhere.” You attempted to slide out from under his grasp.

“Don’t you dare move,” he said lowly, his grip on you tightening in a warning. Before you could speak again, his tongue licked a long stripe up your pussy, ending with a sharp flick across your clit, and anything you were going to say was cut off by a low moan.

“Fuck,” you sighed, one hand sliding down to grip his hair again. He groaned in response, sending a vibration through your core. His long tongue dipped into your entrance, before moving up to draw slow circles around your clit, his leisurely pace driving you insane. It was as if he wasn’t even concerned with making you finish, just lazily running his tongue over you, savouring the taste of you, all for his own pleasure.

“Joel?” her voice rang out again, and your head turned to the side to glance at the door. With a startled noise, you realised you could see her. She was bent down, trying to glance through the front window. Thankfully the curtains were drawn, with only a crack of space for her to peak through.

“She’s gonna fucking see us,” you panted, fingers gripping the back of his head as you writhed beneath him. “Stop, stop.”

He pulled back for a split second and said, “Shut the fuck up,” before his mouth was back on your slick cunt. Your back arched as heat soared through you, legs shaking vigorously as he held them to his shoulders, fingertips digging painfully into your soft flesh.

“I’m so close,” you whispered breathlessly, staring nervously at the window. You took your hand off the back of his head and raised it to cover your mouth, teeth digging into your palm. He grunted, reaching up to grip your hand and shove it back into his hair. As another, louder, knock landed on his front door, you gasped brokenly and fell over the edge, your orgasm flooding through you, hips bucking against his fierce grip. His mouth continued moving against you, eagerly swallowing your release, his deep moans vibrating through your core.

As you came down from your high, Joel pressed a chaste kiss to your clit before pulling back, gazing up at you breathlessly with a tired grin on his face. He turned his head and wiped his mouth on your inner thigh, before kissing the skin. His hands rubbed along the muscles of your thighs, relaxing the bunching up muscles. Silence settled over the room, and your eyes begged to close, the release paired with a long day making you sleepy.

“You hear that?” he asked with a smirk, and you frowned in confusion. “I think she’s finally gone.”

“Do you know what you’re doin’ to me right now?”

The Tipsy Bison was crowded. It was Saturday night, and countless people were milling around the hall, drinking, and dancing and chatting. You were five drinks deep, having a good time with your friends, and enjoying the way the Summer breeze blew in through the open doors and caressed your skin.

“Whatever do you mean?” you sipped your drink, looking at Joel out of the corner of your eye. He was sat beside you in the booth, and the two of you had been left alone when Tommy and Maria went off to dance, and Lou and Carl disappeared to get more drinks.

“That dress,” he muttered, the alcohol in his system making his Southern drawl all the more noticeable. You grinned cheekily into your glass, shoulders shaking with laughter. The dress was something you kept tucked away for most of the year, considering it was only appropriate for very warm weather. With thin straps and a short hemline, the skin of your shoulders, chest, and legs was all visible.

“Oh, you like it?” you teased, eyes lazily dragging around the room, watching people dancing and singing.

Joel didn’t speak. Instead, he gripped your hand and dragged it under the table, placing it over his lap. You froze when you felt him under his jeans, stiff as a board, pressing against his zipper.

“I love it,” he said gruffly.

“You’re drunk,” you laughed, palming him through his jeans.

“I am,” he nodded, his hand pressing down on top of yours, applying more pressure. “Can’t stop lookin’ at you. At your mouth, thinking about your lips around my cock.”

“Fucking hell,” you whispered, glancing around to make sure nobody was in earshot of your conversation.

“Sorry,” he lied, bleary eyes staring into yours. You gazed at him for a moment, contemplating, before you nudged him out of the booth.

“Come with me,” you said, turning and walking quickly towards the bathrooms at the back of the hall. You ducked your head inside quickly, and when you saw that all of the stalls were empty, and not a single person in sight, you tugged him in after you.

You pushed him into one of the stalls and locked the door behind you.

“Gonna let me fuck you?” he murmured, leaning in to press his mouth against your neck. His teeth nipped against your pulse point and you hissed, but then his tongue soothed over the sore spot and a warmth grew in your stomach.

“No,” you whispered, and he paused, pulling back to look at you. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out as he watched you lower onto your knees in front of him. You worked hastily to undo his belt, salivating as you pulled his thick cock out of his briefs.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathed, eyes dark as he stared down at you. “You’re killin’ me.”

Grinning, you stroked his length slowly, letting your thumb slide over the bead of precum on his weeping head. You raised your thumb to your lips and sucked it into your mouth slowly, tasting him with a soft moan. He was swollen and pulsating from lack of attention, his ruddy head begging to be touched. Eagerly, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his head. A sharp breath rushed out of his mouth, and you laughed as his head knocked against the stall, giving small, soft kitten licks against his slit.

One of his hands rested heavily on your shoulder, thumb grazing back and forth along your collarbone as your tongue licked from his tip to his base. Sweat slicked your back under the light material of your dress, and you could feel your heart racing in your chest. You gripped his length in your hand and stroked gently as you parted your lips around the tip, taking it into your warm mouth. His hand tightened on you. You pressed forward and let him sink further into your mouth, moving your head in a slow rhythm with your hand. White noise rushed in your ears, and you couldn’t help but bring your fingers down to brush against the front of your panties, feeling the dampness that had collected there. You whimpered around the weight of him, wishing he was inside of you.

“I’m not gonna last long,” you could vaguely hear him muttering, and you hummed around him. You loved the way he babbled when you had your mouth around him, like he didn’t know what to do with himself, so he just talked. “Look so perfect with my cock in your mouth, been thinkin’ about this all night. Look at me, gimme those eyes.”

You looked up with wide eyes and pushed yourself further down his length, tongue swirling fervently around his tip. His face crumpled in pleasure, hips jutting forward instinctively, and you choked as he hit the back of your throat.

“Fuck, sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

You squeezed his thigh in forgiveness, pulling back for a breath before sucking his tip back into your mouth, tongue dragging along his sensitive slit as you blinked away tears.

After giving yourself another quick moment to breathe, you put your mouth around him and pushed yourself as far as you could, revelling in the sounds of his deep breaths as your nose almost brushed the curls at his base. Tears leaked out of the corners of your eyes, and he brushed them away tenderly. He was so deep, nudging the back of your throat, and you swallowed around him, gagging lightly.

Joel let out a choked sound, his fingers burying themselves in your hair.

“God, your fuckin’ mouth,” he groaned. “Y’take me so well. Open up wider for me, c’mon.” Inhaling deeply through your nose, you went to move again, but stilled at the sound of the bathroom door opening. Your panicked eyes met Joel’s and he held a finger to his mouth, urging you to stay silent.

Laughter filled the room as two women entered.

“Did you see him? He’s so drunk,” one of them slurred, giggling loudly.

“He’s been all over you tonight,” the other one said, and a tap started running.

A mischievous thought ran through your head, and without hesitating, you began to bob up and down, letting him fuck your mouth. His hand tightened in your hair, giving you a warning look and a shake of his head. But he must’ve seen the determined look in your eyes, because his resolve faltered, and he let out a shaky exhale.

“Fuck,” he mouthed as you pulled off almost completely, suctioning your lips around his tip and stroking him firmly with your hand.

The women were chattering loudly, the water still running, and thankfully the noise covered up any sounds that the two of you were making.

“Stop,” he mouthed urgently, but you shook your head, taking his full length into your mouth again. You hummed around him and his eyes shut tightly, hips pushing forward, searching for his release. He was close, and you both knew it, and even with the women standing a metre away, you weren’t going to stop.

But he didn’t give you a choice, gripping your hair in his fist and pulling you off him completely. Holding your head still, he reached down with his other hand and began to touch himself. You could feel how wet you were, slick dripping down your thighs. You watched with hooded eyes as he tugged on his cock, his mouth hanging open in pleasure.

The tap turned off suddenly, and you vaguely heard the women leave the bathroom as you leant forward and parted your lips in front of him.

“Open up for me,” he encouraged, biting his bottom lip harshly. He gripped himself tight, stroking quickly and maintaining eye contact with you. Your cheeks were hot under his gaze, but you held your mouth open patiently, and when he came in hot, thick spurts onto your tongue you swallowed it down eagerly. Leaning forward to take his tip into your mouth again, you sucked and licked at him until he was pushing you back, thumb stroking your cheek in appreciation.

Joel redid his buckle and helped you off the ground, wincing at the sound of your knees cracking painfully. With a smile, he wiped the mix of saliva and his spend off your chin, before bringing the finger up to his own mouth to suck it clean.

“You good?” you rasped, and he nodded slowly. “Alright, follow me out after a minute or two. Don’t wanna be too obvious.”

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Joel to visit you at work. The greenhouse was in a quiet part of the settlement. It was a small building, filled with tall heavy foliage, and countless boxes of soil that fed life into vegetables and herbs. More often than not, you would work long days all by yourself, and sometimes he would pop by to enjoy the peace and quiet while you tended to the produce. That day though, when he’d walked into the greenhouse, he’d been tense.

“Howdy soldier,” you’d smiled, busy repotting a tomato plant. But your interest was piqued when you heard shuffling, and you glanced up to see him pushing a heavy crate across the ground, settling it in front of the door. “What’s goin’ on?”

“I need you,” he’d said in a low voice, making his way across the room towards you. Your gloved hands stilled in the soil, dumbfounded. “Woke up thinking about your pussy, had to get myself off twice before I could even leave the house. Had you in my head all fuckin’ day.”

“I’m working,” you’d replied, eyebrows furrowed.

“That’s never stopped us before.”

That’s how you ended up shirtless, with your torso pressed down onto the wooden table in the middle of the room. Joel’s large hands were splayed across your back, fingers and lips dragging along your skin. The tip of his cock was nudging your entrance, silently asking permission. Your hips twitched backwards, soaked cunt aching to be filled.

“Just fuck me already,” you muttered, turning to look at him over your shoulder.

He glared down at you, eyes greedily taking in the sight of you laid out against the worktop, back arching as you pushed your ass against him. “Don’t act like you’re not dripping right now. I can feel it; you need this just as much as I do.”

You bit your tongue, knowing he was right. With a low groan, he slid into you in one smooth movement, fingertips digging into the skin of your back. You sighed at the sensation, enjoying the dull ache that always came when he was first inside you. He was so long, so thick. Stretching you so perfectly, always hitting that spot so deep that it had you gasping for breath.

He fucked you quickly, the way he always did. But the angle was harsh at first, and you reached a hand back and pressed it to his thigh; squeezed once, gently.

“Slower,” you breathed, and he complied. His thrusts turned slow, lazily dragging himself fully out before pushing back in to the hilt. You hummed in approval, your forehead resting against the bench.

The burn faded as your arousal grew, and soon enough you were so slick that there was no pain at all, and you found yourself moaning with every movement of his hips.

“So tight,” he was babbling into your neck, chest pressing tightly against your back. “Feels so fuckin’ good.”

He couldn’t help but quicken his pace again, but you weren’t bothered this time. The head of his cock nudged against your cervix with every thrust, and you moaned deeply, one of your hands drifting to rest over your mouth, attempting to muffle the sounds.

“The hell are you doin’?” he asked from behind you, hand reaching down to bunch your hair at the base of your neck. “Let me hear you, baby. Wanna hear you when I’m fuckin’ you.”

You mewled, basking in the feeling of his body all over you, inside of you. He was everywhere, the smell of his sweat filling up your nostrils.

“Christ,” you mumbled, eyes rolling back in your head as he gave a particularly hard thrust, your body jolting into the table. His name spilled out of your mouth urgently as your stomach suddenly tightened, and you could tell you were close.

“Joel?”

You flinched, eyes widening as you recognised the voice as Tommy’s. He must’ve been right outside the greenhouse.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, cringing at the thought of him catching you both. How the fuck would you explain this? You thanked your lucky stars that the glass building was filled with so much greenery, that from the outside the two of you wouldn’t be visible through the brush. But your stomach dropped when you heard the door handle rattling as he attempted to get inside.

“You in there Joel?” he called again. “Maria said she saw you headed down here, I need your help with something.”

“Fuck off Tommy,” Joel yelled suddenly, frustration clear in his voice.

“Joel,” you begged quietly, making a weak attempt to lift your head. His hand maintained its grip on your hair at the base of your neck, and the other pressed on the small of your back, keeping you pinned to the table. Your hand tightened over your mouth, fingertips digging into your cheek.

“C’mon,” he grunted. “I know you’re close. Let me fuckin’ feel you, want to feel you grippin’ me while you cum. Go on now, let me have it.”

Tommy’s voice was closer now, and you bit down onto your knuckles as your orgasm creeped ever closer. Joel’s thrusts were unforgiving, the angle helping his cock reach the deepest spot inside of you.

“Don’t fuckin’ come in here,” Joel snapped loudly, hips not ceasing their movements in the slightest. His skin met yours in a satisfying smack, smack, smack. Your body was positively vibrating, core tightening around him as you felt yourself dangle precariously on the edge of your orgasm.

“Oh fuck,” you mewled into your hand. “I can’t, Joel.”

“Yes you fucking can,” he panted, leaning down to press a kiss against your shoulder. “Give it to me, baby.”

“What the fuck are you doing in there?” Tommy’s voice was closer still. You heard the door to the greenhouse open a fraction and bang against the crate Joel had blocked it with.

“Tommy,” Joel shouted, and your face was on fire against the table as you realised what was about to happen. “I’ll wring your fuckin’ neck if you come in here right now.”

Straining your neck against Joel’s hold, you glanced up just in time to see Tommy’s head poke through the gap in the door and make eye contact with you at the exact moment your release tore through you. Your mouth hung open in ecstasy, moans spilling against your hand. But muffling your cries was futile considering he had definitely seen you, and wet sounds were filling the room as Joel fucked you, your cum dripping down your legs. Tommy’s face paled, and he disappeared from the doorway – but not before Joel spotted him.

“You fuckin’ idiot,” Joel spat. “Get the fuck out.”

Through it all, his hips never slowed, and you choked out a gasp as his palm landed with a loud crack against your ass. He gripped the flesh, and your eyes rolled back in your head as you imagined the bruises that would no doubt be there tomorrow. Suddenly, he was spitting curses and groans of your name. Joel gripped your shoulders and tugged your body up so your back was flush to his chest.

One of his hands came around to grip your breast, thumb and index finger pinching your nipple as his other hand drifted down your stomach to rest over your mound. You cried out desperately as his finger dragged over your clit, and another orgasm ripped through your body. He pulsed inside of you, hips spasming frantically, and you could feel his hot spend coating your walls, deep groans echoing off the glass walls of the greenhouse.

When the aftershocks of your orgasms had worn off, he didn’t pull out. Just gripped you tight, kissing your neck slowly.

“Well,” he cleared his throat quietly, his large palm splayed across your stomach, holding you to his chest. His forehead lowered to rest on your shoulder, his weight beginning to lean heavier on your back as exhaustion came over him. “Guess the cat’s outta the bag.”

part three

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fic #cat’s outta the bag

2K notes · View notes

withleeknow · 4 months

Text

remedy.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort; implies that minho has anxiety, unedited bc i am me and you shouldn't expect much from me lmao word count: 1.2k note: hello hello!! i've been meaning to write this since the day of the rock-star comeback but i'm only getting around to finishing it now lol. but the timing's pretty neat so consider this a christmas present from me and mine to you and yours!! <33

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

when the sun rouses you awake in the morning, you feel two arms loosely wrapped around you that weren't there before you fell asleep last night.

you smile to yourself, enjoying the warmth and comfort that he brings you. home, finally.

you turn in his hold, as gently as you can to not disturb your slumbering minho.

you don’t know when exactly he got back, but it couldn’t have been more than a couple of hours ago. sometimes, when he has night schedules, he doesn’t usually return until the sun is peeking over the horizon. you’re used to him having to work throughout the wee hours of the night every other week. you don’t like it, but you’re used to it.

you expect to find him snoozing peacefully beside you, with his handsome face and his lips parted cutely as he lightly snores, but when you finally shuffle around to look at him, you instantly frown.

a frown that matches his own.

baby, you think, what’s wrong?

even in his sleep, minho’s brows are knitted together, the corners of his mouth tugged downward like he’s having a bad dream. the instant concern that rushes through you parts the hazy fog in your brain, and then... you remember.

it was only half past three in the morning when your phone buzzed to life, the vibrations resounding brassily against the wooden surface of your nightstand. reaching out blindly for the device, you only needed to peek through one eye to scan the time and the caller id before you held it to your ear, your face still smushed against your fluffy pillow.

"hmm?"

"i'm sorry," minho was quick to apologize. "did i wake you?" he sounded rushed, like he had wandered off to a corner to steal a few minutes for himself before having to go back.

you made a noncommittal noise, already feeling the exhaustion luring you back to dreamland. it had been a long week and you'd endured five whole days just to get to the weekend, to be able to spend hours on end with your boyfriend. it'd be just you and him, wrapped up together in your cozy little bubble, all your stresses and troubles kept at bay. he was always the best part of your days, your weeks, your months, even your years.

even though you were drifting, you still managed to ask, "is everything okay?"

"yeah, everything’s fine. i just missed you."

it made you smile nonetheless. he didn’t often disturb you in the middle of the night just to be sappy with you whenever he was stuck working odd hours, but it wasn’t necessarily anything out of the ordinary. minho could still be needy and clingy sometimes. it was one of the things that you loved most about him - that he could be a grumpy cat most of the time, but underneath that prickly exterior, he was just a big softie. you loved it even more that you were the only person who could bring out that side of him.

"missed you too," you mumbled. it didn’t sound at all lively, but you knew he could tell that you meant it.

you caught a sigh from his end before he continued. though this time, he let his defenses down when he spoke. his voice came out along with a tired exhale, laced with something that you would’ve been able to pick up on had your mind not been delirious with sleep. "wanna be there with you," he said in earnest. "want you to be here with me."

"when are you coming home?" you asked, even though the words came out a little garbled, your voice heavy with sleep.

"in a couple hours. i'll be home right after this."

"okay. we can-" cue a big yawn. "we can stay in bed as long as you want in the morning."

"yeah, that sounds nice."

"then i’ll see you in a bit, okay?"

he paused briefly before his next words came out a little unsteady, hesitant. the unease with which he spoke bypassed your unassuming radar completely. "can we just stay on the phone?"

"min-"

"you don't have to talk to me. just... stay with me for a while."

you think you might've passed out again after that, the subsequent silence and his breathing on the other end having lulled you back to sleep in a matter of seconds.

my love, it brings tears to your eyes just thinking about it, how could i have missed it?

you quietly move closer to him, shuffling inch by inch until you’re chest to chest, hoping his body could sense your warmth and be comforted by it, even just a little bit. you press a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, but even that simple touch stirs him awake even though minho is usually a deep sleeper.

his eyes slowly open, and you suppose the tug on your heartstrings loosens when the furrow between his brows eases as he takes in the sight of you.

he heaves a sigh of relief, and it’s like you can actually see some of the tension leaving his body as he pulls you to him, holding you against him so tightly that it’s impossible to move even if you wanted to.

"hi," you say, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, snuggling further into him until it’s hard to tell if the heartbeat you feel is yours or his.

"hi," he replies, his soft lips placing a greeting kiss on the top of your head.

"bad day?" night, but oh well. technicalities.

his answer comes muffled against your hair, though you feel the slight vibration of his chest when he mutters, "it wasn’t that bad. i was just a little overwhelmed."

"but it's better now?"

"much better, now that you’re here."

truthfully, you don’t really know what to say in moments like this. you want to be able to offer him reassuring words that could ease his nerves and calm his raging sea, but you’re not good with words. you never have been. you don’t think you ever will be, as much as you want to. for him.

it makes you feel guilty at times, not being able to give minho the peace he needs.

you do try though, to comfort him as much as you can.

"i love you," you say quietly. your arm wraps around him, your palm landing on his upper back where your fingers tenderly soothe the firm muscles you find. i'm sorry i wasn't there for you. i wish i have the right words to say to you.

"i could listen to you breathe and feel ten times better," he admits, putting some distance between your faces so he can look at you, as if it'll help emphasize his words. "i don’t even need you to do anything. i just need you. you’re more than enough for me."

his eyes bore into yours, glittering with nothing but a kind of sincerity that he never shows anyone but you. you kiss him then, soft and slow. you want to pour as much love into him as you possibly can. and even then you don't think it can amount to a fraction of what he deserves.

but nonetheless, you try. you try because he means the world to you.

i'll do better for you. let me share your burdens with you.

pulling away, you tell him, as your palm gently holds his cheek, a touch which he leans into instantaneously. "go back to sleep. i’ve got you."

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thefaefiction · 11 months

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In Too Deep. [Tom Hiddleston x Reader]

PAIRING: Tom Hiddleston x Reader GENRE: Smut !! WARNINGS: Age gap, teacher x student relationship, smut, daddy kink, praise, piv sex, choking, degradation if you squint, aftercare, fem!reader, written with a chubbier reader in mind but it's not obvious, also the beginning is rushed SUMMARY: After developing an intense relationship with your English professor Mr. Hiddleston, you both are in too deep to let it go to waste.

A/N: im not gonna lie i had no clue how to actually begin this fic because it's literally just an excuse for me to indulge in my delusions so sorry that the first couple paragraphs are weird and rushed </3 also the school email domain is fake idk if it's real don't pay attention to it LMAO

Your obsession with your English professor was no secret to your friends. Elio, your long term best friend and dormmate, has had to interrupt you from your delusions on more than one occasion which was already one too many -- whether that be purposefully failing a paper to see him after class, wearing a skirt far too short and dropping a pencil in a calculated manner in front of him, or staring at him a little too intently during lectures -- it was becoming a problem.

In the professor's multiple classes of forty-some-odd students, there really were only a few that were delusional enough to believe they could sleep with their teacher. The difference between you and them was that you were patient with your actions and the effects it had on him.

Ultimately your patience paid off, as one Friday you received an ominous email with the heading titled 'Make-up Work' from a particular '[email protected].' In the details, he simply requested your presence at a disclosed location only ten minutes from campus on Sunday. It was not an office nor a dorm, but a house.

It wasn't long before his intentions were made clear when you arrived; his eyes dark with lust and a half buttoned shirt upon opening the door.

"(Y/N)," He welcomed, cocking his head and shutting the door behind you. "Lovely to see you."

"Pleasure's mine," You reply, never breaking eye contact. You slide your coat off and he takes it in his hands, hanging it up for you. You knew where the night was going to end -- inviting a student to talk not just outside of office hours, but in the professor's home, is not something usual.

"I thought we could discuss an appropriate way to help get your grade back up in my class," He begins. His eyes look down for a moment, observing your obviously risqué attire. "Do you have an idea as to what way that might be?"

He was going to make you say it. There was no way around it. Still, you decided to entertain his antics until it was made painfully and obviously clear he was trying to get you to say what you know he wants you to say.

"I think," You start, voice beginning to shake. The confidence you had starting this endeavor was suddenly challenged. "I think one-on-one time is certainly needed." You press your lips together in a line.

He hums, taking an agonizing step closer. He looks down into your eyes, furrowing his brows and letting out a soft laugh. "I'm not dumb, (Y/N)," he retorts. "I know you're a smart girl. You're excellent, actually -- some of the best writing from all of my classes combined." The professor stops, taking a step back to his original position. "So why are you really here?"

A moment of silence.

"You know why," You sheepishly croak out.

"Flatter me by saying it, then." He raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms and waiting for you to speak.

"I want you to fuck me."

With the words already said, there was no going back. Your chest sunk, a feeling of embarrassment creeping up and beginning to eat away at your skin. All of those feelings were put to rest the second your professor spoke: "Was that so hard to ask, love?"

Professor Hiddleston turned on his heel, two fingers signaling you to follow him like a lost puppy. He led you down a long hallway in painful silence, finally twisting the knob to a door that revealed his bedroom. It was sleek and clean, covered in shades of black and gray with no mess dared to be left out.

He shut the door behind you and immediately began unbuttoning his shirt, holding your gaze with his light eyes. "Quickly," He commented. "I don't like waiting."

Your face flushed, embarrassed at his demand. You looked away and lifted the hem of your shirt-

"You will look at me," He orders, finishing the last button. "With how bold you are in my classroom I would've thought you'd take more control," He pokes, smirking. "Who would've thought you're just a shy little girl desperate for attention from her professor?"

Your thighs squeezed together, you're sure it doesn't go unnoticed as he grins the moment it occurs. You lift your top off as he watches, simultaneously beginning to unbuckle his belt. The sound makes you shiver.

"Good girl," He praises. You shiver in response.

As he tosses his belt to the side, you begin sliding your skirt off, letting it fall to the ground and pool at your feet. Your professor mimics with his slacks, walking closer and caressing your cheek. "Bed."

You obey, laying down on his duvet as he crawls up your body, sending shivers down your spine. "Professor-"

"Tom," He corrects. "No need for formalities at this point, yes?"

You blush before continuing. "Tom, are you sure?"

"I've been sure since the first time you tried to tease me in class," He replies. "I don't think you understand that I think about you every fucking night in my bed, about the things I would do if I were just able to have you."

You smile, your confidence returning almost instantly. "You have me, sir."

Tom grunts in the back of his throat, his body towering over you as he tears your underwear off, the cracking of the seams startling you. Immediately his hands find your sex, running his hands over it and around your thighs. His hands diligently run under your back, you arch, giving him easier access to remove your bra.

"God, you're stunning," He whispers before connecting his lips to yours. He pulls on your face, his teeth making contact with your lips and bruising their pink color in moments. As he pulls away, a string of saliva connects your mouths and you squirm beneath him.

Tom sits up and begins removing his boxers. The tent in them is noticeable -- and horrifying. You can tell he's big even without seeing it.

Not like you've thought about it before, though.

Now completely undressed, he puts his hands under your waist and drags you forward with a grunt. His hands dig at the fat of your hips and travel along your plush thighs, a moan escaping your lips as his fingers dance on your skin.

"Does my little girl need her professor's cock?" Tom provokes, sliding his shaft between your folds -- up and down, up and down, up and down.

You whine, nodding eagerly in hopes to get him to just put it in already, but your meek noise wasn't good enough for him. "Use your big girl words, darling." He puts his thumb and pointer finger against your chin, urging you to look at him him; eyes burning through your skull.

"Daddy," You spit out too quick, back arching. "Please, need you inside of me so bad!" The sheer volume of your pleas and the new title takes Tom aback, yet his cock ached with every sultry word you spoke.

"Good girl," He praises, grinning at you beneath him. You watch as he inserts himself, pressing just the head into your heat. You let out a guttural moan, eyebrows furrowing in a lovely mix of pain and pleasure. He begins slowly easing himself into you further, inch by agonizing inch, until he completely bottoms out; releasing a groan as his head lolls back. "God, you feel so good princess," He praises, "Taking me so so well, yeah?"

His words struck a chord within you, forcing a smile on your face. You whimper, brain not being able to form a complete thought at how deep he was inside you and how just damn good it felt. He was much bigger than anyone you'd taken before by a longshot. Your walls clenched around him and he laughed, cock twitching inside of you. He slowly slides back, leaving just the head in, and then pushes forward quickly, earning a loud, needy, moan from your lips. "Look at you, so drunk on me, hm?" He says, pulling back and then ramming himself deep into you, bruising your cervix. "Tell me what you want, doll. What is it you need from daddy?" He teases, never averting his eyes from your gaze.

"Please," You whine, "Need you to to move, need daddy to make me come!" And without hesitation, he picks up the pace, rapidly fucking you while his hands grip the headboard. You can hear it hitting the wall, and suddenly you're glad he has a house instead of an apartment. The noises you're making are obscene, something any practiced Catholic would need to cross themselves after hearing. "Feels so good daddy!" You spit, earning a groan from him.

Tom turned almost animalistic during sex; his grunts sounding more and more like growls as he fucks you brainless. "Fuck!" He moans, taking a hand off of the wood above you. He quickly puts his free hand on your throat, squeezing and forcing your eyes to meet his once again. "Like being choked by daddy, yeah? Like daddy to make you feel powerless, hm?" He smirks, observing the visual pleasure and shock on your face.

You're so close, you can feel yourself on the verge of your orgasm, and his dirty talk was pushing you even closer. The hand on your throat squeezed, and you clenched down on him, causing Tom to curse under his breath. "Want your cum daddy," You squeak out, "Pleasepleaseplease!" You mumble in strands of pleasure.

"Feel so good," He praises. "Come for me, be a good girl and come for daddy, yeah?" He was fucking you hard, and fast, and he still managed to pick up the pace. His skin slapped against your skin, filling the room with hard smacks and grunts and moans; endless strings of 'daddy' and 'good girl' running from both of your lips.

"Want you inside me daddy," You choke out. Your head lolls to the side and bounces against the pillow, a lazy smile forming on your face. "P-please!" You whine.

That pushed Tom over the edge. He was too far lost in himself, leaning down and growling into your ear. "Ask and you shall receive," he teases.

As if on cue, you both come together, the wave of pleasure rushing over you both. You could feel his warmth filling you up, leaking down your heat and spilling onto his bed. "Fuck, Y/n!" He grunts, "Took me so so well little girl."

You couldn't think, let alone speak. Tom stayed inside of you, helping you ride out your orgasm, not wanting the feeling of your sweet sex to leave him. He took his hand off of your throat and stroked the site, soothing the redness with a sultry kiss. You hummed in response, letting your body fall limp. After a few moments, he pulled out.

About three things Tom was absolutely certain: One, he should’ve never become romantically entangled with one of his students. Two, engaging in this behavior put his entire career in jeopardy due to it being wildly illegal. Three, he was, without a doubt in his mind, unconditionally in love with everything about you.

As you laid on his chest, foreheads drenched in sweat and bodies stuck together, you felt more at home than you'd like to admit. One hand messaged your back, drawing figure-eights on your skin, and the other pet your hair, occasionally drawing his lips close to kiss the top of your head. You burrowed your head into him, clinging onto his body. He grinned.

"I should've never let it go this far," Tom said, his voice raspy and deep with post-sex clarity, "but I'm afraid I'm in too deep to give it up now." He let out a low laugh, your head bouncing with his chest.

You smiled. "I'm afraid I wouldn't have been able to return to normal after this," You commented, "and, well, not to be dramatic but having sex with your professor twice your age does things to you." Tom chuckled, looking down at you and tilting your head up to meet his eyes.

"This is all so wrong," He mumbled, furrowing his eyebrows and pressing his lips together, "And yet I wouldn't have it any other way." He pressed a kiss to your lips, the kind of kiss that left a permanent stain of love and lust on your mouth. It was deep, meaningful, and romantic. Tom stared at you, taking in your features and basking in each and every one. "You are breathtaking, darling."

You hid your face in his neck, attempting to suppress the toothy grin you'd almost shown him, however he pulls your head up with his pointer finger and thumb, admiring your rosy cheeks. "Poor baby, so sensitive to my compliments," He jests, letting out a low hum.

You roll your eyes at him. "It's not my fault that daddy somehow knows all of the words that light a fire in me," You emphasize on the word 'daddy,' which forces what sounded like a groan from the back of his throat. "I don't want to go," You admit, falling back into his embrace.

"I know love," He says calmly, stroking your hair and pulling you into him tight. "We can stay like this as long as you'd like, but eventually I'll have to bring you back."

You hum into just chest. "Just a little bit longer," you say to Tom. "I'm still recovering."

⟡

When you arrived back at your dorm, much later than you anticipated, Elio looked at you with an eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face. "Back so soon?"

"Shut up," You laughed, dropping your bag to the ground and kicking off your shoes. You wobbled into the dorm, legs still sore and threatening your balance. Clearly Elio had noticed this, as the first thing he said after greeting you was "Well aren't your movements suspicious," and your cheeks flushed red. "I do not need to explain my late night endeavors and my later night actions," You began, "But,"

"But..?" Elio lead, leaning forward in his seat.

"But." You ended, pressing your lips together with a hidden grin and nodding your head.

"No!" He gasped, smiling widely and clasping his hands, putting his chin on the top of his fingers. "Please tell me everything! Not that I need to know the gory details of your sex life but, like, was he..?" Elio put his hands in front of him, fingers forward, and spread his arms apart.

"Shut up!" You giggled, swatting his hands. "But yes. Yes he was. Very."

"I knew it." He said, shaking his head. "I knew he was packing."

"Not to ruin our gossip but I need to lay down with a heating pad or something because standing is hurting my body," You laughed. "I think that man busted my cervix."

"Okay, TMI," He said, rolling his eyes. "But honestly go get some rest, lord knows you need it for seeing him tomorrow."

You were confused at first, then realized that tomorrow you had Tom for English, and you had absolutely no idea how you were supposed to face him when the night before he had you moaning 'daddy' and railed you into oblivion. But that was an issue you could deal with tomorrow. Probably. Hopefully.

#🍇 -- thefaefiction!#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #teacher x reader #professor x reader #smut #tom hiddleston smut #plus size reader #tom hiddleston x plus size reader #professor!tom hiddleston #teacher!tom hiddleston #x reader smut

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xxsabitoxx · 11 months

Text

Blizzard {Giyu x Reader Imagine}

Warnings: Unprotected sex, outdoor sex, big dicks lmao, creampies, praise kink, awkward fumbling, rough sex, breeding kink, delirious dirty talk, possessive Giyu

A/N: this isn't the surprise fic!!! This was supposed to be a short imagine but I got a bit carried away and it's turned into a decent sized fic lol. ENJOY!!

Word Count: 4K

You were sitting side by side in a dark cave, shivering slightly as you tried to process your current situation. A joint effort mission up in the mountains wasn’t exactly unusual, considering many slayers had unfortunately disappeared over the course of a few months after being sent up here. “Do you think there is enough material in here to make a fire? I don’t think we’ll be getting out of here any time soon… it’s too dangerous to send our crows out.” You squinted at the water pillar, his eyes focused on the cave wall opposite of the two of you. “It’s likely just rocks, not enough to start a fire unless a bird or some animal left something up here.”

You sighed, pushing yourself upwards to begin rummaging around. Nevermind needed fire to see, you needed fire for warmth. There was no way the two of you would survive up here without some sort of warmth. “We’ll have to look around then…” Giyu watched you move deeper into the cave, getting up himself to accompany you. Getting sent on a joint mission wasn’t odd, but being paired together certainly was. Typically Shinobu would be the one to accompany Giyu on these missions, however she was busy with a wave of patients at the butterfly estate. Though, Giyu couldn’t really complain. If there was any other hashira he wouldn’t mind getting stuck in a cave with, it would be you. You were probably the least judgemental and the only one who he didn’t feel awkward trying to converse with beside Shinobu and Rengoku.

“The storm will probably go through the night, it doesn’t seem to be slowing any time soon.” The only way you were able to see each other was due to the moonlight bouncing off of the falling snow by the entrance of the cave. “Then we really need to hope some animal abandoned a nest up here… if not we’re going to freeze to death.” You really didn’t want to die in a cave. You both moved forward, rummaging around the cave for what felt like an hour until finally… “Here! Something must have been living up here.” Brush, sticks and rocks were piled into some odd shaped nest. Not that it really mattered, all that mattered was that you had enough material to make a fire for at least a few hours. “Great…” his voice was a bit strained, the cold was already getting to him. In your own excitement, you had briefly forgotten how cold you were as well.

“We should probably make it a little further up, there were some rocks that would block the fire from getting hit by the draft.” Giyu brought his hands to his mouth, blowing warm air on them as you gathered enough sticks and brush to start a small fire. You carried the materials back, sitting down as Giyu got to work creating the pile and creating a flame. You were starting to lose feeling in your fingers as a small spark erupted before turning into a burning flame. You both let out sighs of relief, pushing past any awkwardness as Giyu moved to settle beside you. In situations like this, body heat would be your best friend. “Do you really think it will last through the night?” the chill was subsiding just a bit, you were no longer shivering uncontrollably. “It’s likely. We’ll have to be ready to leave the moment it looks like it’s letting up.”

“But what if we start moving and it begins again? Then we’ll be stuck in the snow with no shelter.” He was quiet for a moment, thinking over your words. “We’ll have to hope it clears all together.” He glanced at your crows, both huddled together by the flame and covered with some of the brush for extra warmth. “I guess so…” you sighed, watching your breath fan out around you. “We should try and get some rest… or take turns so we can make sure the fire doesn’t go out.” You could already feel your eyes getting heavy, leaning into Giyu’s shoulder subconsciously. “It’s probably for the best, you sleep first and I’ll watch the fire.” You hummed out a response, eyes closing as your body relaxed. His warmth on your side and the fire before you was enough to lull you into shallow comfort.

Your sleep didn’t last long, maybe forty minutes had passed before you woke up shivering. The fire was still going strong, but the sheer cold of your environment was outweighing the warmth before you. “It doesn’t seem to be letting up…” Giyu spoke softly, watching as you pushed yourself upwards. The sudden loss of contact didn’t go unnoticed, the warmth fled just as quickly as you pulled away. “Shit…” you cringed, moving yourself back over to press against his side again. This situation left no room for awkward feelings when it came to personal space. Giyu was shivering worse than you, haori pulled tightly around him, knees pulled to his chest. You needed a way to keep warm, the fire wasn’t cutting it and neither was huddling together like this.

“I have an idea…” you spoke softly, eyes shutting as you remembered a particular survival tip. You weren’t sure if it would work, hell someone could have been lying to you for shits and giggles. But you were desperate enough to give it a shot. “Yeah? What is it…” you swallowed, focusing on the fire as you mulled over your options. “I’m… not sure if it will work but it’s something I was told a few years back…” you started, pulling your legs to your chest to mimic his position. “The best way to keep warm in situations like this… is skin to skin contact.” Your words hung in the air for a few beats of silence before Giyu mustered up a response. “So you’re saying we need to strip?” If you weren’t so cold, you may have laughed. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. I-I mean we don’t need to be fully…uhm…nude but like… our tops…need to come off.”

You glanced at him, jumping just a bit when you realized he was already looking right at you. There was a moment of silence between the two of you before you finally started moving. “We’ll freeze to death if we just keep staring at each other.” You were shouldering off your haori, your own embarrassment outweighing the cold as you fumbled with the buttons of your top. Beside you, Giyu was watching intently as he too pulled his haori off. “S-stop watching.” You ground out as your top fell to the floor beside you. Pushing up on your knees, you watched as Giyu’s skin was revealed to you. Muscles wrapped his body, scars littering his torso. You wished you were seeing him like this under better circumstances. That thought made you look away, this was no time to think such lewd things. But the way he was looking at you…

A moment later, you were both shivering and topless. You stood before him, watching as he shifted his legs open. “The easiest way to d-do this is for you to sit on my lap. We’ll uh… face each other and hug? If that makes sense.” He concluded, his cheeks red from embarrassment and the cold air blowing in from the storm. You nodded, eyes focusing on a spot just above his shoulder so you didn’t have to look directly at him. You clambered awkwardly into his lap, closing the distance by pressing your chest to his and wrapping your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly in hopes of slowing your racing pulse. Giyu’s arms snaked around you, grabbing his haori and throwing it over you. You tried to focus on your breathing, nerves getting the best of you regardless.

It was deafeningly silent, neither of you speaking as you were waiting for some sort of relief. Though, you really couldn’t tell if it was helping at all, instead of warmth you were more focused on the rise and fall of his chest pressed to yours. You were all too aware of the muscles pressing into your softer skin, the pressure of his grip on your body. Then, finally, if you could push all of that aside, you’d be able to focus on if this was even helping at all. If anything, you were hoping Giyu would be the first to speak up. Unknown to you, he was going through the same mental battle. Your body was soft, your chest squished against his. The weight of your arms around his neck paired with the pressure of your lap on his was enough to let his mind wander to dirtier places. If he wasn’t so damn cold, he would let himself think this was for more than warmth.

“I-is it helping?” your voice is hushed, you couldn’t speak above a whisper if you tried. “I can’t t-tell yet.” Giyu was trying to force his body to relax, his own nerves were beginning to put a death grip on your body. Not that you minded, you were fairly certain your arms were squeezing his neck. How he could breathe, you weren’t quite sure. You remained silent for a few more minutes, the body heat trick was beginning to work but both of you were too caught up in your nerves to even realize. “Y-you know…” Giyu started softly, a particular survival trick coming to his mind now. It was from Uzui, so naturally he didn’t trust there was any science behind it… “Yeah?” you spoke softly, muscles just barely beginning to relax into his embrace.

“Uzui uh… he told me about another way to create heat during situations like this…” he swallows, debating on if it was even worth saying. Then again, you squirmed a bit in his lap and all logical reasoning went out of his mind. “Oh…Uzui gave you survival tips?” you couldn’t even begin to imagine where he was taking this. “I think he was fucking with me… but he said that a good way to create body heat is uh…friction.” He squeezed his eyes shut, embarrassed that he couldn’t just spit it out. “Friction… as in…” You figured he meant sex. “As in… intercourse.” You couldn’t help but laugh, “Intercourse? What are you, eighty?” you forgot about your nerves momentarily, pushing off of him a bit to meet his gaze. “You’re suggesting we have sex?” The red on his cheeks seemed to spread, down his neck and up to his ears. “Y-yeah.”

“I-if it’ll keep us from freezing to death…” you begin, eyes locking with his. “It’s purely for the sake of survival…” he added to your reasoning. “It’s not like anyone will know…” you continued, searching his eyes for validation. “It’s to save our lives… completely justified.” he concluded, hands gripping your waist just a bit harder. “T-then let’s do it…” you swallowed, throat a bit dry as heat began to pool in your gut. You were already forgetting about the cold, clit throbbing as you felt Giyu twitch to life beneath you. “Yeah…let’s do it…” you don’t quite recall who moved in first. All you knew is that his lips were pressed to yours, your hands tangling in his long, black hair and tugging at the surprisingly soft strands. All the while, Giyu’s slender fingers were nimbly undoing your bottoms, trying to shove his hand down as far as it would allow.

You mewled against his parted lips, cool fingers meeting the scorching heat of your cunt. He made a noise that sounded something like a strangled whimper. “N-no time to mess around… I need you in me… let me warm up.” Your breaths mingled, heat growing steadily between the two of you as the blizzard raged on outside. “I-I’ll hurt you if I go right in.” he murmured, lifting his hips for you as you pulled the belt and his bottoms apart. “I can take it…” or so you thought. The last thing you expected was… “Christ, Giyu. What the fuck…” Your heart thumped wildly at the sheer size of him. “I told you…” if you tore your eyes away from his cock, you would have seen the ghost of a smirk on his lips. “You’re massive…” you were saying it more out of shock than a complement but he twitched regardless, keen and eager to accept your praises.

“Which is exactly why I’m not rushing this…” He’s slipping two fingers between your slit, collecting your warm arousal on his finger tips before dipping them inside your awaiting entrance. Giyu watches your face, studying the way your pupils seem to dilate, watching as a breathy whine slips past swollen lips. His saliva is glistening on them, drawing him in to kiss you again. He wants to see you covered, not only in his bites and marks, but in his cum. He swallows against your lips, fingers stretching you open awkwardly as you try to get your pants off without interrupting him. It’s not going to happen, pants be damned for the time being, all you can focus on is his fingers brushing along the spongy parts of your walls. “G-giyu…” your hips are driving down on them, begging him to add a third finger in.

He stills you with his other hand, introducing a third finger slowly before moving his hand from your hip to tangle back in your hair. He holds you in place, tongue slipping past parted lips and sliding around your own. He could sob as your smaller hands wrap around his length, offering him warmth and relief as you pump him slowly. Your fingers toy with the tip, collecting his pre before dragging them delicately down his shaft. You take a mental note of the veins that feel oh so prominent against your fingers. It’s not nearly wet enough, but Giyu isn’t willing to let you tear your mouth from his. Your squelching as his fingers fuck you open, any sort of discomfort melting away to wet pleasure as you suck him in. You’re aching for his cock, clit throbbing in neglect as you try to pull your head away from his iron grip.

“T-this is more than enough… Please, I can take it. I’m a big girl you know, Giyu. Your cock isn’t going to break me.” You’re fighting to keep your gaze on his, yelping as he retracts his fingers. “If you’re so eager, take your pants off and put it in yourself.” His tone is as icy as the weather outside and you find yourself jumping up to follow his commands. Giyu pushes his pants down further in order to not ruin them, watching as your bare cunt is exposed to him in the golden, shadowy light of the cave. You’re on your knees again a moment later, grabbing his base and angling your hips in a certain way so the dull head of his cock is pressing to your entrance. “Do me a favor…” it’s your turn to bark out a command, he’s more than willing to listen. “Rub my clit.” You would laugh at yourself if you weren’t so serious. You knew the stretch would still be a bit uncomfortable, you needed something to pull your mind from it.

Giyu didn’t question it, hand coming down to rub circles on your pulsating cunt. You sunk down slowly, biting your inner cheek as he speared you open. You didn’t slow down, dropping your hips lower until half of him was sheathed inside of you. You were torn between pain and pleasure, thighs aching already from the effort of keeping yourself up. Giyu’s gaze was shifting between your face and where he was disappearing inside of you. You held your breath, sinking lower until there was barely any space between you. One more go and he would be fully inside of you, yet you were mentally wondering how you’d go about doing that. You swore he was pressing into your cervix, that there was no way you could fit the rest of him. “Fucking Christ, Giyu…” you scolded him, as if he had any control over the size of his dick.

“I told you you wouldn’t be able to handle it… there is no need to rush-oh.” you sat down the rest of the way, fighting the urge to immediately pull back up from the pressure. “I… can take it.” you grounded out, eyes shutting against your will as your walls spasmed around him. “Yeah…seems like it.” Giyu grounded out, fingers still diligently rubbing your clit as you tried to adjust. “I… got it in… did what you asked…” you huffed, raising your hips slightly to slowly drop down again. “Fuck me… please Giyu.” you were giving up, skin nearly burning as you were waiting for his response. Instead of saying anything, he flipped you. Just like the kiss, everything seemed to happen in a blur for you. You barely registered the ice cold stone pressing to your bare back as Giyu hovered over you, hair falling down around you. You must have tugged the tie of his ponytail at some point.

“I’ll fuck you, just like you want, but you have to promise me something first.” you were looking up at him with wide eyes, hands by your head because you didn’t know what to do with them. “Anything… anything you want to hear, I’ll say it.” You were losing your sanity in this situation. Whether it be from the cold or his dick, regardless you were willing to do anything he asked of you in that moment. “Promise me you can handle this.” His voice is husky, eyes lidded as his hips rock gingerly into you, too eager to stay still. “Promise… I can take it.” That was all he needed to hear, hips drawing back half way just to snap back into you. The moan you let out was nothing short of animalistic, heat blossoming over your face as the noise seemed to echo. It only fueled him, hips repeating the motion over and over, addicted to the way your breasts and thighs jiggled with the force of his movements.

“C’mon, you’re doing so good for me.” He’s shifting his weight onto one hand, reaching down between your bodies to toy with your clit again. “I can feel it already, you’re going to cum all over my cock, aren’t you? Make a fucking mess of me, yeah?” you’re babbling nonsense, agreeing with every word he says as his cock stretches you just right. “It’s a damn shame, nobody is going to know we did this… our own little secret. Nobody is going to know how good I fucked you.” your eyes are watering, not expecting this side of Giyu. “Then again…” he buries deep, forcing you to look at him as he lowers his head. “We could do this any time you want, I’d gladly be at your mercy.” You nearly choke on air, unable to get enough in your lungs as he looks at you. “You’d like that, wouldn't you?” He’s moving again, watching tears well and slip down your temples.

“You’d love for me to fuck you where everyone can hear. Let everyone know that lame ass water hashira is dicking you down, real fucking good.” You’re nearly drooling, fucked stupid, drunk off his cock and the terribly degrading words. “Tell me, tell me how good I make you feel… tell me how you’ll never be satisfied by another cock.” He’s lost in his own pleasure, the warmth of your pussy enveloping him, forcing him to utter words he shouldn’t say out loud. “Never… I’ll never be satisfied… fuck… by an–ah..another.” you’re babbling again, this time it’s just a bit more intelligible as he pounds into you. You’re coming before you can prepare yourself, body arching upwards as your eyes squeeze shut. You’re tense all over, wailing loudly as Giyu fucks you through your high, no intentions of stopping. “Good girl… fuck that’s my good girl…”

He’s watching your arousal cling to his shaft with every thrust, collecting at the base in a sticky ring. He could cum just from the sight of it. “Your good girl…” you whine, hands clinging to his biceps as he continues to rut into you. You can’t even feel the sting on your back, the ache of your thighs as your legs are wrapped around his hips, nor can you feel the pain of overstimulation as it’s already returning as arousal. “Come in me… please Giyu… need you to keep me warm even after you leave me.” you can’t think straight, mind fuzzy and vision blurry as you clench around him. You want to feel his warmth impossibly deep, even deeper than he is now. “W-what if I knock you up? Then what?” He chokes, your pleas are too appealing to deny. “Then everyone will really know how good you fucked me…fuck… just think about it, yeah?”

Your head is falling back, chest heaving as your pleasure grows to be overwhelming. “Think about you? Stomach swollen because you’re carrying my baby? That’s what you want, isn’t it? Everyone to know I fucked you so good you let me cum in you, breed your greedy, fertile cunt?” You’re squealing, not used to Giyu being so bold. “Yes! Fuck how many times do I have to say it?! Cum in me… please…” it left your lips in a broken prayer, urging him to just give in even though the logical part of his mind was screaming at him to pull out. He doesn’t, hips forcing into you with one last, hard thrust. Spilling the contents of his release deep inside of you, ears ringing from the sheer force of it. You’re gasping for air with him, shivering despite the warmth you feel as his release fills you. Your heart is pounding, blinking stars from your eyes as your body relaxes for the first time since getting stuck in this cave. Giyu, on the other hand, is tense, forcing air back into his lungs before he can look at you again.

“U-uzui’s advice worked.” you choke out, giggling as Giyu nearly collapses on you. “It… it did.” his head is buried in your neck, inhaling the scent of you, skin slightly sweaty and warm. There was not one ounce of cold you could be bothered by, feeling warm from the inside out, especially with Giyu still inside of you. “This storm better end soon…” you could only begin to imagine the cold air biting your damp skin as soon as your body regulated again. “Sick of me already?” His voice is muffled against your neck, forcing a smile on your lips. “No… definitely not…maybe the storm could do us a favor and last at least a few more rounds…” you're running your fingers through his hair, tensing a bit as he raises again to pull his softened dick out of you slowly. “No… not yet.” you stop him in his tracks, hips gingerly pressing the little he took out, back in.

“I don’t want to lose any of that…just yet.” coming out of your lust filled dazed, you are slightly worried about the possible consequences of your hormone induced actions. Giyu only hums, mind wandering about the possibilities of what you two had just done. That was something to worry about when you weren’t technically in a life or death situation. His eyes trailed over your unmarked neck, mind wandering to the things he wanted to do to it. Slowly he’s moving back up to your swollen lips, the urge to bite them clawing at the back of his mind. He doesn’t realize how close he’s gotten to you again until you’re laughing softly. “Let’s just stay like this for a bit… for warmth….” you wink at him, watching that blush blossom across his pale cheeks yet again. Giyu’s head is falling forward, huffing out a small “...for warmth.” as he kisses you again.

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lovelyhan · 9 months

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— starcrossed losers (a teaser) ⟢

at age fifteen, you’re betrothed to a prince named jeonghan. at age twenty-five, you’re set to marry him. so, when your father gives you a chance to find love all on your own, you immediately take it. now if only jeonghan would stop fucking sabotaging every relationship you’re trying to get into.

★ FEATURING; jeonghan x reader

★ WORD COUNT; 1k words

★ TAGS; princess!reader, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, emotional romantic and sexual tension all in one lmao, angst, smut (in the future scenes, this teaser is sfw!)

★ NOTES; so my blog won't die in my absence nd slight inactivity from writing, i decided to leave you guys a snippet of the third n last part of my royalty series <3 as always, content in my teasers are not final and can be subject to change so heads up on that!

this is part of the it’s complicated series.

It’s several hours past midnight when you hear three gentle but firm knocks on the door to your bedchambers.

Annoyed, you stare at the collection of unopened gifts stacked high on your vanity. From delicacies from the neighboring kingdoms to the most expensive collection of cosmetics in Ancarra, your guests certainly knew how to curry your favor. But not even their lavish presents can dispel the pure vexation that’s been making your blood boil the entire evening.

Not bothering to answer the door, you whisk yourself into the plush seat tucked underneath the dresser. There’s only one halfwit currently residing in the castle brave enough to disturb you in the dead of night, and with how terribly tonight’s festivities went, you’re in no mood to extend your hospitality to anyone—much less Seraphia’s exasperating, insufferable, scheming—

“Isn’t it a little too late to be testing out swatches, Your Grace?”

You try to ignore him. The way his silken dress shirt dangles half untucked from his trousers. The self-satisfied look on his face when he notices you fumbling with the cherry red rouge you’re applying to your lips.

But try as you may, you cannot ignore Jeonghan when he reaches a hand in front of you, nimble fingers wiping off the excess color that you accidentally tinted just a few millimeters from your lip line.

Not when his smoldering stare holds yours captive in the image reflected in your gilded mirror. Not when you can’t even find it in yourself to resist when he gently grabs your chin and forces your gaze to marvel at the man himself.

“Sulking again, Princess?” Jeonghan sneers and you want to hate him for it, but you can’t. “I saved you from a man charged with treason three times in a single decade. Why are you pouting at me like I took away the love of your life?”

“Because you’ve made it your life’s purpose to make mine miserable,” you snarl, putting as much venom into the words as you can. “Minghao isn’t a traitor. If he was, he wouldn’t be sitting on top of the Rènxìng empire. He wouldn’t even be daring enough to show his face here for the sole purpose of courting me.”

He sighs as if meaning to be sympathetic, but you’ve long seen past the ruse. “Poor little thing, still being played like a fool all because you abhor the idea of one day becoming my wife. Tell me, didn’t you find it odd, how persistent he was in pursuing a woman who’s already spoken for?”

“I am not spoken for,” you interject, trying not to crumble from how his thumb lightly dabs at your lower lip. “Not by you. Not by anyone. Father gave me a choice—”

“Yes, of course. Everyone knows the story of the Ancarran Princess who’s chained to a troublesome foreigner. So troublesome that she had to beg on her knees just to get the king to reconsider,” Jeonghan coos, face inching ever-so close to yours.

“But as it turns out, all the other men you’re trying your damnedest to replace me with are even worse fiends than I.”

Your lungs burn as if they’ve been set aflame and Jeonghan is merely adding more fuel to the blaze. “You’re despicable.”

“And you, Your Grace, are much too gullible,” he chuckles, each breath fanning hotly against your skin. “I’d say just give it up and surrender, but you’ve been fighting against me since we were children. Putting an end to our very interesting relationship in such a boring way wouldn’t make good for the history books, no?”

All of a sudden, you remember something that Soonyoung told you in passing. How Jeonghan is someone who cherishes his loved ones deeper than one would otherwise expect. He loves his homeland. He loves his family. Above all, he loves his people.

With how he keeps reeling you back from all your attempts to escape your engagement, any other person would assume that he loves you just as much.

But how are you supposed to believe that someone like him is capable of love when all he does is thrive off your misery?

“This new rouge you’re testing out,” he murmurs, as if it’s remotely acceptable to just shift the conversation after what he just told you. “It’s the kind that takes days to remove once it dries, no?”

“In what way does it concern you?” you grit.

The despicable prince simply hums. “Oh, nothing. It’s just that I’m quite curious about its actual longevity.”

You can practically hear your heart stutter to a stop when he closes the distance even more—only a hair’s breadth separating your mouth from his. You’re clueless as to how it happened, but you suddenly find your fingers coiled around the front of his shirt. Looking for purchase. For solid ground.

But you should know better than to anchor yourself to someone as unpredictable as Jeonghan.

“If someone were to ruin it in the next ten seconds, would you even be more furious than you are now?” he whispers and you can feel the ghost of a smirk against your lips. “Or would it garner the opposite effect? Would you finally melt into their arms? Would you let them tear all your defenses asunder?”

Your pulse is roaring in your ears and all of a sudden, you can’t remember how to breathe. His intense stare is pinning you in place no matter how badly you want to escape. The scent of expensive champagne lingers on his lips and you find yourself craving for a taste.

But you can’t. You can’t want that. You can’t want him.

This is the man who’s made your life a living hell for as long as you can remember. The man you’ll be cursed to sit beside in a throne room forever if you don’t do anything about it fast.

You know these facts perfectly well, and yet…

Your eyes flutter closed as you hook your wrists across the back of his neck, letting your arch-nemesis fall deep into you.

this is part of the it’s complicated series.

want to be added to the taglist? leave a reply <3

#seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #jeonghan smut #jeonghan fanfic #svthub #jeonghan x reader #seventeen x reader #lovelyhan

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residenthughes · 29 days

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coming home - connor dewar

pairing: connor dewar x fem! reader

word count: 11k

tags/warning: friends to lovers, childhood friends to lovers, fluff, slight angst?, mentions of alcohol/drinking, minor swearing

summary: your entire life has entailed having connor by your side, no matter where the universe carves your paths. back home for the summer leading up to your final year of university, there's much to ponder - even your feelings about your best friend.

notes: this is genuinely a labour of love, the longest fic i've written in a long time 😭 i wanted this to be short and sweet, but it's long and sweet and i don't know how to feel about that lmao. but (!!!) i am really proud/happy about how this has come together and i hope you all enjoy this fic just as much as i loved writing it 😇 this is mostly proofread, but it is 5 in the morning, so I'll return to this soon! (apologizes for any errors towards the end!) more dewey content shall be coming soon, hehe! much love! <333

(also! this is very much in celebration of dewey's first goal as a leaf, teehee! 😁💗⭐️)

Summer’s always your favourite time of the year. Tan lines, midnight drives, fireworks, the beach. So much sweetness is in the breezy summer air and you simply can’t get enough. You wouldn’t admit it, but your favourite part of the season is when one of your closest friends, Connor, comes up from his gruelling hockey season and returns to the slow and laid-back lifestyle of your small town. Having grown up next door neighbours the majority of your lives, you quickly became two peas in a pod, always together with laughter following closeby.

Your friendship is something you’ve always treasured, held in some reclusive and special part of your heart that only houses your fated connection. No matter how mundane your time together may be - Connor strumming his acoustic guitar and you reading as the citrus sunset dips into the horizon - it's all so memorable to you and nothing, as you’ve come to experience, can ever replace his place in your life. However, life is a constant cycle of change and that first dose came when you two were fourteen, too awkward for your own good and growing out of your bodies. Connor was selected to play in a high-level hockey league hours away from your hometown and as your fingertips buried themselves into his tear-soaked t-shirt, you swore nothing could compare to this pain. The absolute tear of your beating heart out of your raw chest that ached with every gasp. You were a mess, undeterred by your futile attempt to appear as nonchalant at your silly age, but the second Connor stood on your porch, luggage in hand and the sadest tinge in his sage eyes, you fell apart.

Despite the sheer anguish you experienced that crisp autumn day, you adjusted. Stayed in contact with your best friend and continued to build up your life in his absence. Completed all your teenage rites of passage - took some extracurriculars, went to prom (you wanted to ask Connor, but ultimately decided against it), graduated high school and started attending university in Calgary - nine hours away from home. So many things changed and some still stayed the same. Connor was still as hockey obsessed and through his diligent efforts, he’s achieved his dreams of playing in the NHL night after night. You were there for draft day and there for his first game, university be damned. As was Connor, in the stands during your high school graduation and any time you needed him, whether that was him sitting on the phone with you until four in the morning or meeting up with you halfway across two countries because he felt like it. There was always something so spectacular about you two, your stories detailed by destiny and hung amongst the stars. A divine creation that despite the odds, of paths that have taken you two elsewhere, always merged because that is simply how it’s meant to be.

And, so it is, your last summer before your final year and here you are, fingertips tapping against the wooden bar as your leg jerks in anticipation of a figure that will come through your hometown bar, Punch & Judy’s doors any minute now.

Your best friend, Charlotte, manages to interweave your antsy fingers in between hers, a nurturing smile across her smooth face. “He’ll get here, don’t worry.”

Your eyebrows quirk, your legs stopping all motion. “Who said anything about worrying?”

She rolls her eyes, unamused. “You know what I mean,”

Then, she goes on to untangle your fingers, leaning her crossed arms against the bar occupied by the usual mellow group of regulars, including your own bunch of friends. “Besides, you know him. Knowing you’re here, he’s tryna get here quicker than a New York minute.”

A funny feeling flips in the pits of your stomach, an immediate flush coating the apples of your cheeks as you clumsily grab at your cider bottle. Connor always poked fun at your inability to enjoy a cold one, resorting to fruity flavours of cider. “He’s a law-abiding citizen, he’ll wait for the greenlight even if it kills him.”

“If you say so,” Charlotte casts you a glance out of the corner of her eye, smugness tugging at the corners of her lips as she takes another swig of her beer. The bell signifying the main door opening sounds in the background. “Oh, look. Speak of the devil and he shall appear! Hey there, stranger!”

Suddenly, your attention is elsewhere, eyes pinned to the tall silhouette that struts through the doorway of the LED ridden bar, kind eyes and a kinder smile with his tousled hickory hair and hushed voice finding its way to your eardrums again after so long. It’s like coming home again, watching from afar as close friends fall into endless hugs, your reunion saved for last as you beam a closed mouthed smile, reproduced by your best friend who opens his arms for a hug that solely belongs to you. You fall into him instinctively, inhaling his soft woody scent as you bury yourself in his embrace, the pendulum of your life coming to a pause as your universe centres.

“Get a room, you two!” Connor’s brother, Quinn taunts from over your shoulder, eliciting an exaggerated sigh from you as you’re reluctantly reminded of the lame chirps he seems to be full of whenever you and Connor are together.

You ignore him, savouring the moment for what its momentarily worth before Connor’s pulling away, arms loosely wrapped around the circumference of your waist as he peers down at you with those same green eyes you’ve known your entire life.

“Hi.” you breathe, short and sweet.

He simpers, something coy in the lines of his smile as he replies back, “hi.”

It’s a simple greeting, but there’s so much more in those few syllables - the endless gravity of your shared experiences and fondest memories making their way back to each other. Your eyes linger for a minute longer, taking in each other’s presence that’s long been missed due to your busy schedules leading up to your summer break. You part ways and despite how fulfilled you are to have him here and see him after some time, there’s a small knack that nags at you - hollow and wanting as you venture to a booth nearby, squishing up in between Charlotte and another one of your guy friends, Owen Power, who like Connor has been busting his ass in the NHL and friends with you all for longer than you can remember. You all chatter amongst yourselves with Connor’s brother sitting across from you, a discussion brewing as Connor returns shortly after getting a drink at the bar, sliding beside his brother with a beer in hand.

“Come on, Connie. Help me out here, these guys have lost the plot.” His brother argues, an eye roll your response.

Connor looks between your group, a knit in his eyebrows. “What’s the deal?”

“They’re tryna say, get this - that dolphins are more dangerous than damn orcas. Can you believe that?” Quinn attests, expression pinched as he ruffles the curls of his bleached hair sticking out his snapback.

“Hey! We’re well within reason to be arguing with you. You on the other hand? I don’t think so.” Charlotte proclaims, an accusatory finger directed towards Quinn.

“Yeah, not gonna lie, Quinn. You’re severely underestimating how evil dolphins are,” concludes Owen, his hand raised as he pushes up his glasses on the bridge of his sunkissed nose.

Quinn guffaws, jaw slack as his eyes flicker between everyone’s faces in quick succession, clearly in disbelief. “Are you hearing this right now?”

“Look, Q - we’ve been over this,” you start, hands extending as if to make sense of your proposed point. “You’ve been fed dolphin propaganda. We’ve literally shown you so many resources about their heinous crimes. Take it or leave it.”

Quinn groans, elbowing his older brother who wordlessly listens to the ongoing conversation. “Bro! A little help would be nice.”

A brief pause follows his younger brother’s melodrama, Connor weighing out the arguments of a conversation he hadn’t been here for, his eyes flickering over towards yours fleetingly. An unexplained shiver runs down your spine, the action camouflaged poorly as you appear to distract yourself from the sensation, fingernails scratching against the lines of your neck as you look up at the ceiling.

“Hello?!” hollers Quinn.

You swear he loves to hear himself talk.

“They’re right,” Connor concludes, eyes set on you as he speaks before he takes a swig of his beer, focusing back onto his brother. “Personally, I think you’ve been taking one too many trips to Sea World.”

“The promised land of dolphin propaganda.” mentions Charlotte.

“This is ridiculous!” Quinn exclaims, sending a heavy elbow into his older brother’s arm, all of which barely gains any sort of response from him. “What happened to honour amongst bros, huh? They don’t have that in Minnesota or what?”

Connor scoffs lightly, his smile reading amused as his head turns towards his brother. “That doesn’t mean I have to agree with everything you say.”

Quinn mumbles something under his breath, clearly displeased. “I forget you’re my harshest critic.”

Their double act entices the crowd, your circle of friends laughing amongst yourselves as Quinn folds his shoulders with his usual theatrics. No one buys into it, much less Connor who drapes his arm loosely around his brother’s squared shoulders, leaning in with a tickled pink smile that reflects within your own expression.

“You’re just mad I won’t kiss your ass.”

That earns him a shove off Quinn’s shoulders, sending him into a fit of laughter. Everyone chortles along, basking in the merriment of the moment before you’re delving into other non-controversial topics, indulging everyone in the bits and pieces of your lives they’ve missed and just like that, you're four drinks in and so sentimental it hurts. Owen suggests a walk around the town centre, a tradition you cannot help but all agree to as you all shimmy out of your respective booth, bidding Judy at the bar farewell as you file out of the establishment.

The cobalt sky dazzles with stars you’ve forgotten shine so bright here, the midday heat nowhere in sight as a cool breeze pushes you forwards. You linger behind Quinn as he impulsively hops onto Owen’s back, who stumbles at the sudden weight whilst Charlotte laughs at the unfolding scene. Nostalgia warms your heart at the sight, eyes half-closed and posture relaxing as the warm summer night holds you close and kisses your worries goodbye.

An arm drapes over your shoulders, your slow strides matching up with Connor’s as he looks to you, smile small and earnest as he playfully challenges, “Since when did you know about dolphin propaganda?”

You gasp, humour shaping your lips. “Well, you’ve been in my ear most of my life yapping about it, so…”

“Hey, I’m just saying - was I wrong?” the smirk on his face attests to his unwavering confidence and as you catch a whiff of his woody cologne, you roll your eyes in defeat, smile still on your lips.

“Considering you wore a shark tooth to school, I didn’t think so.”

You have to bite back the wide smile that fights to spread across your face, a few snickers here and there escaping before the loose ring around your shoulders closes in, Connor smushing your face inwards against the strength of his bicep. You can’t help but laugh throughout, swatting away his pesky grip that lasts no longer than a few seconds before all you hear is the echoes of your winded chuckles. In an effort to stabilise yourself from the momentary loss of oxygen, your hand seeks Connor’s, holding onto his larger and warmer as your feet hit the pavement in unison.

“Feels good to be back, doesn’t it?”

You let your head fall to Connor’s shoulder, arm wrapping around his lower back as your steps sync with such ease. A lightness in your limbs and how perceptive you can be to the sounds of downtown - car horns, hushed chatter and the like - let you know there’s nowhere you’d rather be right now than here. Back at home, with your best friends and your partner in crime who you answer in the form of a hum.

Your first few days back in the Pas are slow and uneventful, most of your time spent decompressing from the taxing semester and unpacking your items, all of which you didn’t know just how much you possessed. In an effort to make the most of the sunshine and get out the house for reasons other than your part time job at the local diner, you sign up for community gardening activities and ask the groupchat if anyone wants to come along. Everyone appears to have plans, except for Connor, who in the early hours of the next morning, picks you up from your childhood home and drives into town where for the next few hours, you’re knee deep in dirt under the blaring sun as you plant various kinds of greenery to spotlight the natural beauty of your rustic town.

What is certain, when early afternoon pours in, painting the sky in shades of honey and tangerine, you’re exhausted beyond belief. You have no idea how Connor makes the drive home, yet he does and when you two collapse into the hammock in your family’s backyard, your lips are slack and echoing more yawns than you can contain.

“That was great and all, but that’s knocked me out,” Connor groans, limp body shuffling in the confinements of the cotton hammock hanging off one of the trees in your backyard. The same tree which holds the treehouse you and Connor partially lived in throughout your youth. “That was more tiring than hockey practice.”

You’re tired and easily distracted, your head perched up in a way that puts the treehouse in your direct eye-line. “Remember when we’d watch movies in that treehouse?”

A brief pause follows, occupied by the tranquil chirps and running water from the nearby bird bath. “Yeah, I’d always wanna watch Jaws but you wanted to watch Disney movies.”

You give him a laugh, shuffling yourself in order to get comfortable in the small space. Why did you two think this would work like it did ten years ago? The thought occurs to you, but you brush it off to save yourself additional mental load, making the adjustments to cater to some form of comfortability in the tiny space. Even if that means sacrificing your shared personal space as your body overlaps onto Connor’s strong and firm one.

“Says the guy who knows the all the songs in Lemonande Mouth,” you counter, “And, Let it Shine.”

Without missing a beat, in his sleepy voice, Connor replies with, “kissy kissy, Roxanne, did you miss me?”

Groaning despite the snickers slipping past your lips, you bury your head into Connor’s chest, refusing to hear the rest of his ramblings. “My girl is hotter than your girl, you know it! You know it.”

To get your point across, you unbury your head, wide eyes peering up at your best friend who’s so amused by this all, hair messy and smile stretching from ear to ear. A bright sight. “Can you not?”

“You’re just hating 'cause I sing better than you.” He follows that by sticking his tongue out at you, so mature for his age that you grant him the response of a heavy sigh and an averted gaze, settling back into the peace and serenity of your backyard.

However, the silence doesn’t last long before you’re speaking again.

“Your hair’s getting long,” you observe, fingertips dancing along Connor’s nape as you absently fiddle with the long strands of his hair, silky between your fingers. “You should let me cut it.”

“Name a time and place, and I’ll be there,” he mumbles sleepily against the crown of your head, soothing you further towards a serene sleep. “Unless you fuck it up. Then, I won’t forgive you.”

You give him the satisfaction of a laugh tucked away in your chest, the ghost of a smile dissipating as the aches of a hard work’s start to plunge their teeth into your flesh and bones, body like cement as you sink further into the comfort of the hammock, into the comfort of your calm summer afternoon.

“One of my friends from my team’s supposed to be coming up for a night or two,” Connor croaks, voice hoarse and the gentle breeze of the summer’s day pecking your skin in an act of love. “Think…you’ll all get along with him quite well.”

His point is punctuated by a tired yawn that proves to be contagious as you mirror the action moments after, eyes unbearably heavy as time moves slow like molasses, body further sinking against Connor’s. You don’t even stop yourself from falling asleep, only blinking away the exhausted sting in your eyes to answer your best friend.

“Can’t wait,” you mumble, adjusting your body against Connor as your limbs slot together like puzzle pieces, matched at every curve as slumber envelopes you two in a kind embrace. “It’ll be good - the visit…and the rest of summer.”

Your words trail in a drowsy daze, tone doused in sleepiness as your eyes can no longer keep themselves open, glimpses of hickory branches and pear leaves wishing you peace and serenity as you finally fall asleep.

Your shift at the local diner passes without as much traffic as expected, local patrons ordering their usual with a few tourists dropping by to try the culinary experience of your average but nostalgic diner food. Due to how quiet the establishment is - Mabel, your boss and long-time owner of the diner - lets you off early and with a hug, you scurry back to your family house to get ready for the night's events. After dozing off with Connor in the hammock out back, your mother softly awoke to you with a holler she’s used since the dawn of time.

“Up and at ‘em, kids. Dinner’s ready!” in the distance of your dreams, you hear your mother yell.

With drowsy film still coating your eyes, you and Connor manage to dislodge your limbs from one another, sleepy smiles and croaky chuckles exchanged as you amble inside your house and Connor stays for a filling homemade meal that everyone at the dining table fawns over. Connor hangs back as you venture into the kitchen to wash up, a tradition you two have forged, him washing the dishes and you drying them. Not much dialogue takes place between the two of you and there is no need. For all the instances where you believed the need for conversation, you appreciate this silence so much more - how there’s no urge to talk for the sake of talking and how much comfort there is with simply just being with Connor. After you’ve done the washing up and Connor’s hugged your mother goodbye, fist bumping your father hilariously enough, he’s climbing into his car and wishing you well.

“You sure you don’t need me to pick you up from Mabel’s?” coaxes Connor, the wiggle of his eyebrows offsetting the echoes of titters that leave your lips.

“I’m good, thanks. Need to shower and get ready, anyways,” a gentle gust of wind blows, fallen leaves scraping against the cement of your driveway. “We all know how long that takes.”

“I don’t mind waiting.” Connor simpers, says like it’s the easiest thing in the world and like it doesn’t demand for the city of butterflies within you to soar beyond their ability.

You flash a strained smile, giving the top of Connor’s car a pat as your posture straightens and you step away from the vehicle. “Goodbye, Connor.”

“See you soon.” and just like that, he’s gone with the wind, taking a little piece of you with him.

It’s when you’re strolling your way back inside the house, halfway up the stairs to your bedroom that your mom gives you a gentle call, beckoning you back down the stairs to find her in the dimly lit living room, mahogany reading glasses hanging low on the bridge of her nose whilst the quiet snores of your father and his baseball game fill in the background noise.

She folds her newspaper, crinkles running up your spine as she addresses you. “So good to have Connie over, makes me miss him more when he’s away.”

Connor is like a son to her, the better part of your childhood glued at the hip whilst your parents cooed and awed at your loyalty to one another. He helps around the house with no complaint nor expectation of compensation, buys her favourite flowers every Mother’s day with an additional heartfelt gift come her birthday. He listens, he jokes and he cares. What more could she ask for?

“Can’t imagine how much more you miss him whilst you’re away.” she comments, throwing her denim clad leg over the other, directing all her attention to you, swaying between two feet with your hands behind your back, sceptical.

“Well, we try to meet up when we can, so it’s not too bad,” your hand goes to scratch the back of your neck, chin jutted as your head leans to the side. “…Is that why you called me down?”

Awkwardness rarely rears its head in your household built upon openness and unconditional love, which is why the unspoken truth your mother struggles to vocalise raises a red flag, your skin prickling as you fiddle with your hands behind your back.

She’s looking at you now, a maternal love in her eyes as she speaks up. “Maybe, I can’t really put my finger on it, really. I did, however, want to say that I hope you guys keep each other in your lives, however that may pan out in the future. There’s a special happiness in your eyes I want you two to be selfish with.”

It’s a small thing, she says. A snowflake amongst the pile of snow in the realms of your mind, but as you lay in bed later on that late afternoon, staring at the gold stars Connor helped hang up in your room, your mind wanders places it never conceptualised. Inserts Connor in places in your life where he hadn’t been previously - opposite you illuminated by a candle-lit dinner, dancing in a kitchen as you prepare breakfast and kiss each other in between, above your bare body as he holds you in the palm of his hand like you are the most precious thing the universe has gifted him. It’s a point in time that despite busying yourself with dipping your toes back into your hobbies - heck, even walking your next door neighbour’s golden retriever to clear your head - it never quite leaves you, awakening something deep and dormant in you that never goes away.

Snapping out of your syrupy daze, you adorn yourself in your finest line dance clothing, slipping on your gingerbread cowboy boots before you’re tying bows in the pigtails of your hair. Your mother yells down the stairs for you and you leave in a flash, kissing her goodbye as she drops you off at Punch and Judy’s, your jewellery clinking together as you walk through the main entrance.

Much like your first night back, the bar is illuminated in dim light and sharp LED lights of varying colours. Cowboy hats dominate the sea of customers, the building crowd of the bar dressed in shades of denim and tired leather cowboy boots. Knowing the others have already arrived, saving a spot at a nearby booth, you decide to make your way to the bar first, ordering your signature berries-flavoured cider, to which Punch (co-owner) makes quick work of, the cold beverage in your hands before you can blink.

“Beer not to your liking, sugar?” A smoky, mellow voice grabs your attention.

You spare a glance at the source of the gravel voice, eyes long lingering as they capture the image of a face that stirs a flip in the pits of your stomach. The man stood beside you braces his muscular arms against the hickory brown of the wooden bar, his sleepy chocolate eyes trained on yours as he takes a swig of his tequila flavoured Desperado beer. Locks of umber messily cascade along his face, unless tucked away in his vintage black cowboy hat that ties together the rugged cowboy look he presents with the sweet addition of his light stubble. To make things worse, he’s stupidly fit, his black t-shirt clinging to the curves of his muscles like second skin. If it were up to you, you’d-

“Like what you see?”

The smug comment snaps you out of your hazy olge, a pout forming upon your lips with an accompanying knit in your eyebrows. You make a point to angrily grab at your pint glass, ingesting a big gulp of the sugary alcohol whilst the rugged cowboy laughs to himself.

Even his laugh is attractive. Sick bastard.

“Coming from a man drinking a Desperado? Funny,” you have to laugh at whatever lame attempt of making conversation this man is pulling, Punch masking his misplaced laughter behind a cough as he polishes a pint glass. “How flirtatious you are.”

You admit, your latter remark is more bark than bite, a quick chirp that refuses to feed his ego yet grab his interest all at the same time. The ruse proves to work in your favour as the sexy cowboy gives another one of his huffed laughs, his body turned towards yours.

“Give me a chance, sugar. Just tryna start the night off right,” he counters, so brazenly confident in himself that you don’t know whether to laugh or shy away from his prying eyes. “Tequila beer and beautiful company - sounds about perfect to me.”

You react in a juxtaposition, eyes rolling and cheeks flushing as you divert your line of sight away from the handsome man flirting with you at your hometown bar. Perhaps, he’s some city folk travelling through the town, fancying himself a good time at Punch & Judy’s weekly hoedown Fridays, a little bit of flirting on the side to inflate his ego and keep his blood pumping. Whatever reason explains his presence, you are not one to complain. Your love life isn't very entertaining to put it mildly, so you're willing yourself not to get swept up in his caramel eyes.

Against the wishes of your quickening heart, you decide to give Mr. Handsome Traveller the time of day, body shifting as you face each other finally. “You don’t quit, don’t you?”

He cocks an eyebrow your way, something sneaky and sugary in the lines of his smile. A brief pause follows his actions, the soft rustic sounds of old town country murmuring from the jukebox nearby filling up in the space between your figures. It’s when he’s about to make yet another cocky comment that your conversation is put on pause.

Connor’s voice calls your name, head turning to find your best friend standing in between you and the Punch & Judy’s cowboy of the night, eyes wide and expectant as they shift back and forth in the middle of your standing figures.

“Dew, forget about Desperados tonight. The lady in bows will have your head otherwise.” Handsome Traveller nods his chin towards you, humour dancing in his smile as he snickers into his half-full glass.

Then, it dawns on you. Dew? One of the handful of nicknames Connor’s adopted over the course of his livelihood. So, they’re acquaintances? Or closer? Your eyes frantically search for social clues to point you in the right direction.

“The lady in bows is my best friend,” Connor explains, a bite to his words as his eyes glare a knowing look at Sexy Cowboy. He then goes on to face you, gaze softening almost immediately as his head tilts in his friends (?) direction. “This is Brandon, or Dewey One.”

Oh. Makes sense, you rationalise. This is Brandon, Connor’s close friend and teammate on his current team out in Minnesota, the one who gets into fights he can’t win on the ice whilst Connor trails nearby picking up his fallen gear. The one he told you a couple of days ago that was coming up to visit. And, of course you were flirting with him.

Of. Course.

“Dewey One?” you ask, minorly deflecting from your embarrassment and still genuinely curious.

Connor inhales, as if to speak but Brandon beats him to it.

“Brandon’s just fine,” he interjects, expression unassuming as Connor’s eyes put his visiting friend underneath a microscope. “Nice to meet you, darling.”

Normally, you’d wrinkle your nose at the sometimes sleazy pet name Brandon casually calls you, except this time round you find it more amusing than cringe-worthy, which is how you find yourself grinning as you two exchange a handshake that testifies to how strong Brandon is. You clear your throat to stop the circus unfolding within you.

“Come on,” Connor gestures over to you to follow suit. “Can’t keep ‘em waiting.”

You call out an agreement over your shoulder as you go to grab your drink, the hairs on the back of your neck stand to attention as a close whisper brushes past your ears.

“I ain’t no quitter, sugar.”

The next couple of hours are spent packed into a crimson leather booth that peels at the ends, going from topic to topic over many a pints. Brandon fits so easily into your group, his infectious energy illuminating as he takes up space without regard, his confidence more enticing than suffocating. Everyone seems to be in good spirits as the alcohol keeps flowing and as you sit back, careful eyes watching your friends engage in conversation, you wish for this to be your forever for as long as you'd like for it to be.

A nudge against your shoulder turns your head, greeted by Connor’s sage eyes. “You ready for Judy’s Line Dance?”

His rhetorical question draws a laugh from you. “You say that like I don’t do this every time I come back.”

“Yeah, but if you were ready then, you would’ve brought your cowboy hat,” comments Connor, his veiny hands grasping gently at the ends of your braided pigtails accented with a bow. “What? Wanted to show off your pretty bows?”

He thumbs the ends of your hair, engrossed in the strands and its feel and for some reason, the casual intimacy of the moment inflates something in your chest, a balloon about to burst as you forcibly breathe in and out, clearing your throat afterwards. “They're my favourite accessories.”

Connor huffs, corners of his lips lifting gingerly as he continues his motions with his hands whilst your body remains rigid with the exception of your racing heart and crimsoning cheeks.

Your mother has definitely planted a seed you cannot unroot.

“Yeah, you’re almost always wearing them in your BeReal. posts. They’re real cute.”

For a fact you know so well, Connor’s confession comes as a pleasant surprise, one that shallows your breaths and quickens your pulse. It makes you reflect back on before, when all was platonic and the comment wouldn’t have made you bat an eyelash. Now, your skin tingles and you’re struggling to find the words to encapsulate your affection past your dry mouth. So, like many others in your position, you settle for a safe reply.

“Aren’t you a charmer?” you roll your eyes, brushing off his grasp because you might combat otherwise, projecting your attention ahead of you to come face-to-face with Brandon, who despite the engaging conversation he shares with Owen, his eyes skirt over to you.

You look away, even more flustered than before.

It’s just your luck when you hear Judy’s tap incessantly against an old microphone that you have something else to hold your focus, eyes brimming with glee as she announces the dances for the night and their updated partner songs. Last time you were here, they were still playing their beloved country hits and you danced along thanks to the amounts of alcohol you consumed, but their new playlist of pop hits within the past decade or so, you’re more motivated than ever to tear apart the dance floor.

“If you ain’t shy to do a little two step, please make your way to the dancefloor please.” Judy grins into her mic, tipping her cowboy hat as patrons make their way over to the illuminated space.

Connor makes way for you to exit the booth, your boots hitting the ground as you iron out any kinks in your outfit. Amidst your actions, you catch other movements out of the corner of your eyes, to which you find Connor playing with the ends of your bow this time round. There’s always been something so sweet and tender about him - in the way clouds are amongst a blue sky, in the way laughter spills over so easily in the presence of a found family and in how harmonies make you feel as if you're floating. But, it’s never been like this before, this intense and vivd. In a way that rids you of all thought and scares you beyond your deepest fears all at once. You’re still finding your footing in this new territory, a plain that speaks to the existence of your feelings but has no road nor destination. It’s a simple plain you seek to find some end to, picking up clues along the way that predetermine what the future holds. At the beginning, the animosity scared you pale and grey. Now, the end is what grasps your fear in a fierce chokehold. To pry yourself from the jaws of unhinged anxiety, you allow yourself to relax, to seep into the present and take it for what it's worth because the end is unknown and you’re not there yet. Not by any measure of time, you hope.

“Kick butt out there, rockstar.” His big smile deepens the soft lines of his face, a pure display of pride in his features as he gives you a pat on the back and gives way for you to shine.

It’s small, insignificant in the grand scale of things, but your smile deepens too and you nearly float to the dancefloor, adrenaline rushing through your body as the DJ prepares the upcoming music.

As you settle in line, you feel a light pressure lay upon the crown of your head, eyes darting to find Charlotte in the line next to you, giving you a wink before she faces forwards, thumbs slotted through the loops of her flare jeans. Her straw cowboy hat no longer, you reach up to find said object upon your head and with a chuckle behind your hand, your thumbs hang on your belt loops and let the music guide you.

It’s only when you’ve done your first turn that you realise that Brandon has also decided to join the line dance, huffs of amusement sounding from you as he glides and slides with a confidence dusted with his normal dash of comedy.

When Judy announces it's time for the partner dance, it’s your cue to catch your breath as you plan to evacuate the dancefloor. As mentioned earlier by Charlotte, the pretty sandy brown haired man who’d bought her a drink earlier in the night circles his arms around her waist as she gives him a smitten grin. You beam at the endearing sight, about to make your way towards your booth but are stopped in your tracks as a calloused hand clasps around your wrist.

Brandon’s expression is more sheepish than you’ve ever seen, his eyes distracted as they wander away from you. You raise an eyebrow.

“Who says the night has to end here, sugar?” His voice trembles partially, its edge lost in the coyness lining his smile as he finally looks at you with a dazzle of hope in his eyes.

A momentary pause delays your response, the moment used to turn the cogs in your head and sneak a glance back at your booth, where Connor was last you saw him, eyes trained on you as he simply watches the interaction. Under the weight of his gaze, a creeping sense of embarrassment climbs up your back, scolding the skin. You’re about to give your reply when the music starts up and Brandon speaks again.

“Put this desperado out of his misery and allow me this one dance?”

It’s so cheesy, maybe even idiotic - the words he proposes to you but he’s trying and that’s what appeals to you most, warms your heart and sways your response as you send him a nod that has Brandon cheesing ear to ear, his hand leading the way as you two fall in line.

You haven’t had much experience line dancing with a partner, the closest experience to this being a night you barely remember, happily back sliding with a fifty year old local in your college town bar who wanted to feel young again. Regardless of the fact, there’s no time to mull it over as the music already starts and your fingers are interlocking, matching up with the rest of the duos as you dance, cowboy boots stomping as you make a scene.

In all the commotion of heavy stops and ongoing thumps of Rihanna’s ‘S&M’, Brandon manages to catch your attention, mirroring your movements to a tee.

“You and Connor don’t do this much, do you?” he queries.

“You kidding me? Connie has two left feet, I’d be left for dead if it wasn’t for Charlotte.” You yell over the blaring upbeat country music, arms extended as Brandon glides you further away from his figure.

“Good thing I’m here tonight.” jesters Brandon, and you laugh along because you’re tipsy and having a lot more fun than you imagined.

Despite your familiarity with the dance routine you two execute to a tee, you’re caught off guard when Brandon brings you inwards, bracing you against his hard chest before his arm circles around the circumference of your lower back, holding you steady as he dips your body slightly. Your foot is kicked out, your (Charlotte’s) straw hat’s fallen to the scuffed dancefloor and you’ve just had the wind knocked straight out of you, eyes feverishly searching for answers as the bar falls to a hush.

You’re looking in each other’s eyes now, chest heaving and high off the adrenaline pumping through your veins from all that dancing. All time ceases to exist and it’s just two of you, sharing laboured breaths and looking for any cues for how this will end. It appears as if you’re in your own head at this point, combing through a thousand possibilities all at once to respond however you see fit. Thankfully for you, Brandon breaks the silence.

“One night and one night only.”

The sentence sends shivers down your spine and you’re pretty sure Brandon feels you quiver in his arms as he gives a brief chuckle, hauling you up onto your two feet and bringing you back to reality. You don’t really find their footing after that.

The rest of your time at Punch & Judy’s passes by in a flash, more pints being consumed over your group’s loud chatter as the night stretches on. Charlotte and her blue eyed companion indulge in another dance before he’s whisking her back to the bar and paying for everyone’s next set of drinks - bless his heart. He introduces himself as Jack, a new face in town and as he and the boys exchange pleasantries, the wild eyed non-verbal dialogue you engage in pieces together Charlotte’s sentiment and if it isn’t enough, when Jack makes his departure, she gives him a kiss on the cheek and bides him a coy farewell, a promise to meet in the next coming days on her tongue. One thing is certain, when Jack makes his exit from the bar, the door shutting behind him, you’re yelling and shaking each other’s shoulders in glee, stupidly happy and sharing that with one another.

Your table has their last drinks and before you know it, you’re being squeezed into the back of Owen’s pickup truck, sandwiched between Charlotte and Connor whilst Owen and Brandon sit up front. Over the murmured sounds of slow alternative music, you get bits and pieces of their conversation, the two excitedly talking about their shared love for Legos and the most they’ve splurged on one set. You shake your head with a laugh, going to share your merriment with Charlotte, only to find her soundly asleep, a light snore bypassing her punch pink lips.

“How you holdin’ up, champ?” Connor’s low voice draws you in, a slight head turn in his direction. “Don’t think I’ve seen you dance like that since we were ten and begging our parents to have a sleepover.”

The image is so vivid in your brain, two wide eyed kids that held hands as they begged and pleaded to have a sleepover, only for their polite request to be refused. Taking matters into your own hands, you dragged your parents’ big hands into the living room, where in front of them and an oblivious Connor, turned on MTV and danced to some popular song of the time. Lucky for you, it worked. Unluckily, Connor would hold that over your head forever onwards.

You’re cringing into your hand, face mangled in discomfort as you wish away the reality of you doing that away. “One of us had to convince them. Plus, it worked, didn’t it?”

“I can’t argue with that,” Connor laughs behind a fist before his hand falls to his side, a moment of quiet between you two. “You and Brandon seem to be hitting it off.”

A single eyebrow raises to express your confusion, perplexed frown prominent not because of his statement which is completely true, but because there’s an edge to his voice - something unfamiliar and cold in the way he says his words - a tone you’ve yet to hear, even after all these years. Uncertain how to proceed, you choose to be cautious about the matter, selecting your words carefully.

“He’s nice,” you state, because Brandon is but something in you twists uncomfortably, feels the recognizable pangs of embarrassment as you’re subjected to uttering this out loud. Or rather, in front of Connor. A betrayal of some sorts. “You were right about him fitting right in with us.”

There’s a strange shift in the air in the backseat of the car, the once peaceful quiet now becoming increasingly heavy and awkward as your words hang in the air like knives. Connor absorbs your words, stare averted as he watches his fingers fiddle with the lock of the door on the windowsill. You run your palms against the material of your denim shorts because you don’t know what to do with them otherwise.

It’s only when you’ve scratched the back of your neck, eyes stiffly roaming the interior of the car that Connor replies. “Yeah..I guess I just didn’t know how well.”

You’re about to ask him what he means by that, going to press him but Owen’s suddenly shut off the truck, his blinding interior lights turning on and him killing the ignition, alerting you of your arrival. Connor climbs out before your vision reverts back to normal, so you put the matter on pause and softly wake up Charlotte who sheepishly wipes away dried drool at the corner of her lips and climbs out the pick-up with you. You’re about to shut the door behind you, though someone beats you to it.

“I got it.” Brandon’s husky voice sounds from behind you, the slam of the door following.

You send an appreciative smile his way, perhaps a bit of timidity mixed in there too, turning to include Charlotte in any possible conversation to come, only to find her halfway up the porch stairs of Connor’s house.

How is it always the two of you left alone?

“Let’s head in, it’s chilly out here.” suggests Brandon, you falling in line with his request as the beginnings of goosebump dot your arms, the roughness of your skin hitting an all time high as Brandon’s large hand falls to the small of your back, guiding you up the stairs into the cosy and quaint house.

Hums of conversation lead from the back porch of Connor’s house, the presence of your friends known as you wordlessly navigate your way through the halls of Connor’s house, hallways and framed pictures you’ve committed to memory. When you’ve made your way to the kitchen, you find Owen nursing a cool bottled water, hair tousled and cheeks dusted in pink.

“There you two are,” announces Owen, fingers threading through the waves of his brown hair. “Everyone’s out back - apparently, Quinn’s out back too.”

You waste no time beelining for the backyard, the sudden weight of your reality dawning on you the second you stepped through Connor’s doorway, a cold shower of water easing you out of the mirage you’ve impulsively floated in. Once you’re outside, the cool air sinking into your skin, you spying the usual suspects - Quinn, Charlotte and Connor gathered together around a fire Quinn boasts about making. His glee is short lived.

“That boy scouts training finally coming in handy, huh?” Charlotte banters, a suppressed smirk sneaking amongst her features as she takes a seat in one of the camping chairs surrounding the fire.

“You laugh now but when you need someone to tie an impossible knot and survive off the land, don’t come running to me.” responds Quinn, taking a swig of his beer as Charlotte holds her hands up in surrender, laughing regardless.

You’re about to turn on your heels to head back inside, retrieving a beverage of your own, but a familiar call of your name is stopping you in your tracks.

“I’ve got your cider here,” alerts Connor, expression indifferent as he approaches you to hand off a can of your favourite berry cider and a bottle of water. “Blankets are on the chairs too.”

It’s embarrassing how much you want to melt into this man’s arms right now. Nonetheless, for reasons you know all too well, you express your gratitude in a toothy grin that he mirrors with a closed mouth, pulling you down into the camping chair beside his.

Soon enough, Brandon and Owen are sitting round the fire too and your night ends like this, light-hearted discussions under the stars as the heat from the open flame soothes your heavy eyelids closed. Whilst you’re mildly awake, you don’t miss the glances you and Bradon trade over the sandstone fire, loaded questions in his eyes. Had this been any other occasion, any other person not linked to Connor, any other reality where your current feelings didn’t exist for Connor, then there would be no questions asked, blossoms of wine doting both your necks come tomorrow morning. Alias, these were not the conditions and simply lounged in your camping chair, hoping Brandon didn’t look your way every time Connor’s hand would play with the bows in your hair.

Arm hanging out of his shiny porcelain white pick-up truck, Brandon squints as the rays from the blistering sun reflect into his eyes. Having said their goodbyes earlier, Connor and Brandon dab each other up with good-natured smiles before Brandon throws his focus over to you, standing with a bit more awkwardness than you’d like.

“Take care, Lady in bows,” Brandon says, a well-mannered nod sent your way with a closed mouth smile. “Don’t give Dewey a hard time. He’ll come round.”

For a split second, you’re eyeing him as if his face contains all the answers, but when he gives you that knowing look, the same one Charlotte and your mother give you any time Connor’s name is mentioned - you know. Know all too well and blush as a result, head snapping behind you to see if Connor’s within earshot. Thankfully, he’s in the middle of chatting with his brother, hands in his pocket as Quinn points off into the distance. You circle back to Brandon, the apples of his cheeks clear as day as he snickers like he’s been told a secret.

It’s as if this best kept secret brings you infinitely closer, your walls falling as you begin to bare the depth of your sentiment surrounding Connor. There’s no more beating around the bush, so you lower your head as you kick at the rocks at your feet. “You think so?”

You hate how small your voice comes out, meek and questioning everything known to man. It’s unfamiliar and not to mention, uncomfortable in every aspect of the word. Alias, Brandon sees you - catches the vulnerability you’ve shared with him and embraces you with a kindness that ushers a relieved sigh from you as he responds back.

“I’d bet my NASA Space Shuttle lego set on it.” Brandon banters, smirk soft and small.

So, he’s serious. Very serious, it seems because you know how treasured the item is to him. You exhale a breath you hadn’t known you were holding.

“Thanks, Brandon,” you breath, coyness coating your cheeks as your hands fall behind your back, your fingers tangling. “Don’t go fighting no alligators.”

“We can only hope,” Brandon gives his side-door a smack, rounding up everyone’s attention. “I’m hitting the road, fellas. Enjoy the fair for me, yeah?”

A chorus of agreements go off from behind you before Brandon gives one more salute, speeding off into the canary yellow sun. The small crowd outside Connor’s house disperses and regroups again later on that day, refreshed and ready to attend the local fair held every summer and the highlight of the year.

The fair lives up to its expectations, grand and joyful with a variety of rides ranging from teacups to a catapult-like ride that swings back and forth and then upside down. You’re distracted by all the colours, the sights and sounds that you’re so oblivious to what goes on right before you, until your vision is shrouded in black and your face is submerged in fluff.

Retracting, you blink your eyes to adjust to the change in lighting, lips parting as you stare at the massive latte-coloured teddy bear that Connor presents to you, the rest of your friends nearby taking their turns at the darts board way ahead of them.

He must see you struggle to find the words, his grin infectious as he jests, “I think I’ve finally out-conned the concessionaires.”

You must look like an idiot, or a deer in the headlights as Charlotte jokes, disbelief strikingly apparent on your face as you reach for the souvenirs, the fluffy animal so cosy in your arms and melting your heart into a big puddle of goo. “Thank you, Con.”

“Don’t mention it.” a smile plays tenderly on his lips, the sheer kindness he captures in his sage eyes enough to make your pulse race and head spin.

After the thoughtful gesture, your high spirits cannot be tamed as you indulge in every little thing your heart desires - laughing a little harder, smiling a little wider and stuffing your cheeks full of hearty food that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. Charlotte basks in your glee, speaking of a glow you radiate as she snaps photos of your stuffed cheeks, a knowing smirk on her lips as she hands you your teddy bear once your food is finished. You don’t reply, exchanging words through your glances as you make your way towards the second bit of rides the boys want to try.

“Wait, isn’t that…?”

As Quinn’s voice trails off into the distance, you find yourself turning in the exact direction where he directs your view, eyes landing on a pair of figures - one being Connor and the other being, Amelia, Connor’s ex-girlfriend from high school and most notably, his last girlfriend. Her waves of blond hair glisten in the sunshine, something like a Renaissance painting. Her smile bright and wide as she greets Connor with an enthusiastic hug, a hug you feel lasts longer than necessary.

They then go on to immerse themselves in conversation, and for the life of you, you can’t look away - pry your jealous eyes away nor dry swallow this bitter pill because she’s still so into him. Hands familiar and all over him, leaning in when she gets the chance and beaming like she’s won the lottery. In all fairness, her life’s been such a tale - excelling academically, incredibly driven in all sports and other extracurricular activities that garnered her attention. And such a kind spirit too, always there to help no questions asked that it made you physically sick that you could foster any ill feelings towards her, because she’s such a light and maybe Connor would see that too. As he did when they were together.

You’re too busy losing yourself in a sea of self pity that you don’t notice Charlotte's attempts to snag your attention nor other things at first, your illegitimate fears getting the best of you but as your posture stoops, your eyes floating everywhere around the busy fair that it pauses on Connor’s figure. Once immersed in conversation, he appears distracted, indifferent somehow as his attention wanders, wanders over to you as his line of sight floats over to you from time to time as the conversation stretches on. At first, you think it’s your mind playing tricks on you, feeding into delusions that’ll soothe your pity party, but at some point, he holds your gaze, giving Amelia a pat on the back before he’s jogging over to where your friendship group is, not even uttering a word as he slots himself between you and Owen.

“What was that about?” Quinn just has to ask.

“Oh, Amelia just wanted to catch up,” he sounds distracted, his mind elsewhere but you don’t dare to indulge, your sight directed elsewhere as you grip onto the plush teddy bear as if it were a lifeline. “She says hi, by the way.”

You don’t do much listening after that, tuning out all the colours and sounds of the fair as you ride the highs and lows of what your life has become.

A sense of urgency plagues you from that day forth, a hurriedness in your actions as your anxieties get the better of you, going from lounging around in day old pyjamas covered in crumbs and mystery stains to getting a head start on your master’s personal statement and running every errand you’ve been procrastinating. Your parents swear you’ve become a different person - venturing outside the house before noon to visit the bank to change your address or go get your car serviced. Perhaps seeing Connor with Amelia was the jump start you needed to stop relishing in instant gratification, distracting yourself from facing any sort of music that pertained to the future and all its question marks. You still hang out with the others, more so Charlotte as you spend a few afternoons at the lake with one another, feet dangling into the water as she updates you on her adventures with Jack.

It’s the first time someone’s pursued her with such sincerity and charm that she’s hesitant about his authenticity. And yet from the sounds of it, Jack doesn’t mind one bit and shows his patience as they get to know each other, the smitten man taking your best friend on dates that further solidify their connection. You couldn’t be any happier for your best friend, this kind of treatment a long time coming, all of which you express just to see her blush and dive into the cold lake water to avoid further talks. You chase after her, teasing her mercilessly as the thoughts still linger at the back of your mind - your own sentiment with regards to Connor and what has come from the change of heart.

Emotional anguish and so much fear you’re not sure what to do with yourself. It takes a week of mulling things over, his missing presence due to off-season hockey training for you to make up your mind, peeling into his driveway and hiding your apprehension behind a strained smile as he greets you at the door. You preoccupy every bit of silence with running chatter, because you don’t want to hear yourself think, a multitude of topics discussed over vodka pasta you make together before you’re finding your way into his bedroom, the early evening sky greeting you as he flicks on his buttermilk bedside lamp.

He brings out his guitar, the same one you gifted Connor two years ago at the height of his newly-found hobby and plucks the strings, creating a melody you compel yourself to relax into, somehow ending up sandwiched in between him and the guitar as he directs your fingers to play one of your favourite songs, just because.

Apparently, your shaky hands don’t make for good playing material.

“You’re shaking like a leaf, you cold or something?” notes Connor, his looming presence over your body sending you into overdrive, your skin feverish and mind imploding from overwork.

“This is different.” you annouce, because it is. Unlike times before, it didn’t mean as much to be alone in his bedroom with him, getting glimpses into the life he’s lived and who he is as a person through all his possessions. You could handle the casual intimacy - the soft spoken whispers, the unprovoked kindness, the skin to skin contact that didn’t send your heart into a series of flutters. Now, all you can do is bat an eyelash, many at that, and this you must make known. For the selfish reasons you can think of.

“What d’ya mean?” he mumbles, clearly distracted and known the wiser to his breath fanning over your neck, goosebumps rising against your skin as your body grows rigid against his.

So acutely aware of your proximity, of the bursting feelings that thud at the confinement of your chest, your thoughts scatter like glass. “This, Connor. Being like this…with you.”

That strikes a chord with Connor, his motions ceasing altogether as his hands drop from the guitar and you’re forced to face the music. Sink your teeth into this undeniable truth that’s followed you all these years and you’ve been too blind to see. Confront the holy truth that maybe there was more divine work intertwined in your story with Connor, that maybe the universe wrote you two as one heart as opposed to two. That, as the summer days ticked by, the sun seeping into your skin, your love grew for Connor like molasse - slow and thick and palpable that once you were aware of its existence, that’s all that consumed you. Coated in his syrupy love, an endless desire.

You’re facing your best friend in spite of the hellish screams in your mind to play this off as some random mood swing, a joke even, because laughter follows you two everywhere, right? But, you know. Know better than anybody else that Connor knows you, like the back of his hand. Sees right through any charade you may jester him with, so any attempts to divert the conversation are as pointless as anything. Your confession starts and ends here.

A flicker of concern mixes in the dark of his eyes, hands clasped together with a crease in between his eyebrows. “I don’t follow.”

A full body sigh draws out of you, shoulders sagging and back curving, your hands casting aside the acoustic guitar with caution. You’re back to staring at each other, in the silence of the night, caged in between four walls that burn your eyes white as you once again grapple with your innumerable feelings and the finality of it all - this longing.

“Don’t you think,” you croak, question in your eyes as you look up at Connor, stifling any rise in emotion within you. “-this summer has been different?”

His sage eyes cast away, pink lips settling into a pout as he racks his brain for whatever answer you may be looking for. “No? Maybe? I don’t know.”

He adds on, looking back at you as he leans closer without fault. “Is this because it’s your last summer before you graduate?”

Connor’s got a point. When you’re trying to kid yourself into not having romantic feelings for your childhood best friend, your mind wanders to places where it has more control. Plans for after college, what modules you’ll be taking, what societies you want to join, what last things you’d like to cross off your list before you’re forced into full fledged adulthood. It’s a thought that lingers ever so presently at the back of your mind, like background music stuck on loop, but ultimately, Connor has missed his mark and you tell him so.

“Partially, but,” you wet your lips, struggling to find the words again as the burn against your cheeks proves to be insufferable. “This is what’s been on my mind more than anything else.”

Your point is accentuated by your single finger gesturing between the two of you, a poor attempt at best to foster some sort of confession of your romantic feelings. Because it's so scary, lending these thoughts your voice because they become much more real, spoken aloud for his ears to hear and his heart to see. For his heart to feel and what then? What awaits you once your confession reaches his ears? The unknown is scary, chilling to the bone and you wish to shroud yourself from it as long as there’s daylight.

There’s a beat before you hear Connor’s voice again. “What about us?”

Hearing him vocalise those three words makes the moment so real, so vividly intense that it sends chills down your spine and slows your laboured breath, the thump of your heart all you can hear aside from the ticking clock against Connor’s bedside table. It ticks and ticks, signifying the curtain call to your summer long charade.

“Connor, I..” It’s as if the magnitude of your feelings have manifested into some beast, with razor-like fangs and sharp claws that slash at the confinements of your chest, the words of love dying on the tip of your tongue as the moments hangs over your head like a gauntlet. You’ve never been so scared before, driven nearly to tears as your desperate hands grip at the material of your hoodie to ground yourself in some sort of way whilst you try to push yourself. To see this through until the very end and leave the destination unknown.

“We’ve been friends our entire lives. I don’t know anything beyond being with you and I never wanted to, and I feel like that means so much more than it did years ago,” his eyes are on you, undivided attention served on a silver platter that you turn away from, for its sincerity and shine. “Maybe, I did know deep down inside what I know now all those years ago. Like when I cried and begged for you not to leave the Pas. Or when you held my hand any chance you got when we were kids, or anytime you smiled at me really that let me know I always liked you. Maybe, even love you - I don’t know. But, what I do know is that I just couldn’t leave for Calgary without letting you know. Even if that means…”

You don’t have the heart to utter your next words, a dagger to the heart at even the possibility of losing your best friend and partner in crime. Perhaps, it isn’t worth saying - this whole grand love confession because this is a risk you’re not ready to face. However, despite your thundering heart against your bruised chest and however many times you’re second guessing yourself here, the weight lifted from your words is undeniable. An unspoken truth that had been set free, that needed to be set free - whatever the fallout may be.

A snicker snaps you out of your deep seated fears, your scattered daze settling on the view before you, one you had least expected. Connor, eyes cast away from yours as he huffs into his hands, a laugh you’re undecided where it derives from.

“…Are you laughing at me right now?” You feel awful for even asking such a ridiculous question. At the same time, you’ve just been as vulnerable as you’ve ever been in your entire life - some hesitancy is to be expected.

At your question, Connor’s huffs of delight cease and stares at you at alarm, realising his mistake. “God, no. Fuck, I’m so sorry, I just-”

“You used to rub dirt on me, and now you're proclaiming your love for me,” an airy laugh puffs out of his moving chest, a mixture of disbelief and amusement painted amongst his chiselled features. “It’s a bit of an adjustment.”

He seems…happy? Relieved? You’re not really sure, but what you at least find peace in is that there’s no sunken look about him, no expression worn that conveys disappointment and hurt because that’s all you’d have to see to know where his heart lies.

“Good or bad?” you ask.

His eyes bounce back to yours, those same olive eyes you’ve spent years looking into, glimmer with a sparkle that you’ve yet to see and robs you of rational thinking as your heartbeat picks up the pace.

“Good,” he whispers, like it’s a secret for just the two of you - one that is small and fragile, but so special and cherished that it makes your heart squeeze. “Because, there’s no one else I’d rather be with. Not by a long shot.��

You swear you could cry, burst like a dam and drown in your tears that overflow with such joy and relief because this is it for you. So right and settled, being where you’ve always meant to be - so loved and treasured by the one person who knows you better than yourself, someone who’s seen you at your most awkward and at your worst, and loves you because he has. Because he’s seen it all and wants to spend the remainder of his life doing so, a conscious choice he makes everyday because he loves you and you love him.

You’re unsure how you’ve ended up like this, limbs curled up in your lover’s lap as he cups your cheeks, rough thumb caressing the skin as his love shines through his gaze that blows his iris’ out of view. He looks so beautiful like this, unabashed and vulnerable, secure in love and what destiny holds for you. He looks at you as if you colour his skies and spin his world round and just like that, you lose yourself in him. Thread your fingers through his strands of umber brown and kiss him like you mean it. Kiss him long and hard, and with everything you have because it’s long overdue, so needed that you melt into him, lips overlapping as you taste destiny on his tongue.

The story of you and him, a tale as old as time.

#connor dewar x reader #connor dewar #connor dewar fic #cd24 #minnesota wild #toronto maple leafs #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #connor dewar fluff #dewey 2 #brandon duhaime #dewey 1 #dewey #residenthughes

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ohbo-ohno · 6 months

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I’m feral and need more of your a/b/o thoughts. Like I need to know your thoughts on alpha!141 snatching omega reader to keep for themselves

yknow i was gonna say that i haven't touched abo in forever, but then i remembered the gaz thing i just posted the other day lmao

(btw i wrote alpha 141 here but i think abo poly 141 would have alphas price/ghost and betas soap/gaz. probably. maybe. idfk.)

cw for noncon and kidnapping below the cut

i find poly 141 x reader really difficult to write outside of porn, since there's already so many interesting dynamics in regular poly 141. i have a hard time adding in a FIFTH element, yk? especially when that fifth element has to be a reader insert instead of some sorta OC or smth

anyway, i think the best dark poly 141 x reader idea is basically reader being used as a sex toy for the guys. like, she's there for them to relieve their stress in. but in an abo au i could totally see them using her as an element of softness in their lives. with 4 alphas in one home, you need an omega to soften things up a bit

and there you are. soft and sweet and small (compared to them at least) and just so perfect. you're the unlucky bastard who happens to smell appealing to all of them, and you're whisked away before you really even know it

they'd have to be sneaky, probably. you'd have a positive reaction to their scents too, so maybe johnny or gaz gets you to go on a date with one or both of them and then kidnaps you. maybe price or ghost just grabs you one day. something like that, i think, but there's much higher angst potential is kyle and/or johnny lulls you into a false sense of security first (and you know i love a good betrayal)

they'd push and prod at your instincts to force you into a heat before anything else. lock you in their den (soon to be their nest) and surround you in their scents, make low purrs to convince your instincts that you're safe

and as terrified as you are - and oh boy, are you - there's only so much you can actually fight your instincts. lets say you're either not on heat blockers, or maybe the blockers are weak, but for whatever reason you're very susceptible to all of their little pushes

they've got you knotted and mated by the end of the week

it's odd, coming up from that heat. your neck aches all the way around, to the point that it's painful to even turn your head. despite the unfamiliar room, your brain screams at you that you're safe, that you're in your nest.

it doesn't take long to put together the pieces. it also doesn't take long to become very very upset

thing is, it's too late to do anything now. you can't break a bond, and they're not giving you any opportunities to get away. you're stuck with these alphas who have performed the greatest invasion possible on your body and soul. it's crushing

cue lots of attempted comfort. soap and gaz would be the softest with you, always trying to tempt you into realizing how good it is to be with them. soap is rougher when he fucks you, but they're both equally soft outside of that. they bring you nesting materials, constantly make sure you're covered in their scents, and bicker over who gets to cuddle you on the couch

ghost isn't willing to coddle you. he's sweet (in his own right) but he's not nice. he doesn't try to make you feel better - you're meant to be with them, why should he apologize for making it happen? all they did was skip the courting process, this is always where you were going to end up. he refuses to apologize for that. but he also doesn't want you miserable. he holds you close at night, soaks with you for long hours in the tub, and is always making sure you clear your plate

price is... weird. i'm never sure if i should make him the meanest or a softer kidnapper. because i could absolutely see a version of price whipping your ass raw every time you scream at them and call them names, but i can also see a version of price who just levels you with a disapproving stare and locks you in a small dark space when you get like that

regardless, they all smother you. you help balance out their dynamics a bit more, but they're always fighting each other for your attention. especially with the bond making it so they always know what you're feeling. and your instincts scream to trust them (and you can feel their emotions too, know that they really meant for the best, as sick and twisted as it is).

#abo au #poly 141 x reader #bo writes #asks and answers

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ginkgo-phyta · 3 months

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I dunnu if I'm asking right but Spencer with injured knee who feels bad that his gf is taking care of him so much but he's horny and he's also kinda feeling shy asking her to take care of his lil problem but she ofc delivers.

On a side note: cane spencer drives me insane ok thank you <3

yes yes, you asked right!! what a wonderful first request THANK YOU I LOVE YOU hopefully this inspires more people to request pls pls PLS im actually begging atp. anyway, im so loving this request and tell me why i was thirsting over spence w/ a cane literally last night we’re on the same wavelength rn anon ilysm. i hope this piece satisfies you! i actually strayed a lil bit from the prompt, in this spencer doesnt outright ask. i hope that okay eeee but if you want me to do another where he DOES actually verbally ask, i would love to do that, too. fair warning idk if this is still a "drabble" LMAO its 2.6k words i couldnt stop myself, but here you go, my love :] i hope you enjoy

SMUT, afab!reader, description of female anatomy, oral (male receiving)

It’s some odd hour of the night, the sounds of a black-and-white film Spencer’s not quite paying attention to playing on your laptop intermittently gets interrupted by the hoot of an owl perched on a tree somewhere in the distance. You pay it no mind, engrossed by the inviting images flashing before you as you absent-midedly trace figurines onto Spencer’s clothed leg. The two of you were nestled on the couch in his living room, your head resting in his lap after triple-checking you would be far enough from his injury and that he was comfortable. Although he tried his best to repeatedly reassure you, his current shifting began raising your doubts again. Your fingers abandoned their dancing right above his knee as you pushed your body up, leaning your weight on your hands placed firmly on the cushion to crane your head and look at your boyfriend

“Spencer, honey, what’s wrong?” Your voice was warm and full of worry, the timbre washing a feeling of love and desire over the doctor's body, sending a shiver down his spine.

“N-Nothing’s wrong,” he started with a stutter, clearing his throat before continuing, “why’d you move?” you were vaguely aware of his eyes darting down before meeting yours again, but you waved it off, figuring he was just caught off guard. In actuality, Spencer was trying his best not to stare at your mouth-watering cleavage pouring over the neckline of your lounging shirt, deliciously pushed up by the position of your arms.

“I moved because you keep moving, silly. Is your knee hurting again?” Your hand reached out to resume their traces, this time ghosting the top of the ailed joint, your gaze moving along with it. “Maybe it’s time to put some heat on it, hmm?” you mumbled to yourself and before Spencer could even object, you were moving off the sofa and toward the kitchen.

As soon as you were out of the vicinity, Spencer’s head fell back against the couch with a soft thud, a groan of frustration rolling out of his throat. You had been taking such good care of him since his knee got shot last week, refusing to let him do anything by himself. He tried to stop you at first, but you explained to him how rewarding it was to you.

“I enjoy taking care of the people I love, Spencer,” you said with a serious look in your eyes, his face cupped gently between your palms, “I enjoy taking care of you. Please let me?” your words became quieter as your face inched closer to his. Spencer sighed at the feeling of your hands starting to card through his hair

“Okay, if you insist.” he sighed against your lips, finally giving in. The giggle his response drew from you drowned Spencer’s heart in ecstasy, and he decided he would simply return the favor some way, some time in the future.

That’s not what was frustrating him, though. It was how incredibly turned on he had been feeling the last couple days. The guilt of you having to take care of him, even if it’s something you wanted to do, prevented Spencer from touching you and he hated that. When it came to you, his lovely, kind, caring, thoughtful partner, all he wanted was to put his hands on you- sexually or not. Peppering your jaw with kisses, nuzzling his head into your neck, caressing your back as you rested on him, pressing his nose into your clit as his tongue delved into your folds; he lived for all of it. Even as you laid your head in his lap, he held back from massaging his fingertips against your scalp out of guilt and fear. He didn’t want you to feel like he was taking advantage of you, or pressure you into servicing him, if you will; even though he wanted it so bad and you were so close to his crotch it was making him crazy. Like a madman, he craved to touch you, to feel you. Your bare body pressed against his, nails scratching down his shoulders, your lips sucking his balls into your hot mouth, wet cunt spasming around his twitching cock. He knew none of that would happen, you reminded him as much after a check-up at the doctor’s office

“The doctor said no physical activity, remember? I can’t have you moving around, honey.” you said to him with a pointed look after the two of you had returned home where one kiss led to two, becoming deeper and more passionate. You pulled away before it could go any further and dutifully reminded him.

Since then, you mellowed down. Of course you gave Spencer massages wherever you felt he could use one, but you kept your kisses to pecks and made sure to stay on your side of the bed at night. Safe to say, Spencer was feening.

He shut his eyes tight and ran his hands through his hair, trying to compose himself before you came back into the living room. “Come on, get a hold of yourself.” he grumbled quietly, slapping his fingers against his cheeks in an attempt to drill it into his head. The sound of your light padding drew him back to the moment and you emerged into his eyesight with a tray.

“What’s all this?” Spencer let out a breathy chuckle, shifting to sit forward a bit more, as much as he could with his injured leg propped up on the table (on top of two pillows, as per your directions).

“Well,” you started after setting the tray down next to the laptop, standing straight to admire your handiwork and huff stray strands of hair out of your face, “I was in the kitchen getting the hot pack ready, so I put some snacks together. And then I thought maybe you could use some tea! It’s just an herbal tea I put together earlier- it’s mainly willow bark, but I also used some ginger and cinnamon. It’ll help with the taste while helping you heal, too!” you clapped your hands together in excitement, holding them against your chest like a giddy toddler. Spencer couldn’t help but laugh lightly, pride swelling in his heart, joy stretching a smile from ear to ear.

“I love you.” Was all he could say as he stared up at you.

You laughed at his dumbfounded reaction, lightly pushing his shoulder. “And I love you, too.” you smiled back at him before leaning over to hand the cup of tea to him, “I want you to get better fast.” you said matter-of-factly, this time duly noticing Spencer’s eyes fixated on your breasts. As you bounded over to the other side of the couch, you bit your lip as dirty thoughts of Spencer flooded your mind. Even though you’ve been doing your best in controlling yourself, you still missed him. A pout couldn't help but mold your lips every time you gave him a short and simple peck or you restrained your hands from traveling over sensitive parts of his body when massaging his shoulders.

You leaned back, body facing Spencer as you watched him sip on his tea. “How’s it taste, hon?” your voice had an unplaceable hint, causing Spencer to look over at you.

If he had taken a larger sip, the tea would have surely been spat out of his mouth as Spencer’s eyes met your figure. You were draped over the arm of the couch like a centerpiece, head tilted curiously to the side as your fingers played with the buttons of your thin satin shirt, a couple more popped open than before. He could see the edging of lace peeking out, beckoning to him, the shape of your pearled nipples begging to be free from their restraints. Spencer’s dick twitched in his pants.

“U-um,” he stuttered, shakingly putting the cup back on the table and averting his gaze from you. Spencer wiped his hands on his thighs, “G-good. It-” an audible gulp pierces his sentence, “Yeah, it’s nice.” He tries to lean back and focus on the movie still playing in front of him, but your movement from the corner of his eye has a grip on his attention.

You basically crawl over to him, the leather couch creaking as you settle as close to his body as you can. Side pushed against the back cushion, your legs tucked under you, knees pressing against Spencer’s thigh. He begins to squirm, trying to ignore the tent growing in his pants- but you don’t.

“Oh, baby,” you rasped seductively, one hand reaching out to press against his thigh, the other tucking his long hair behind his ear, “do you need me to take care of you?”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, the feeling of your hand so close to his crotch immediately caused his eyelids to drop close. The beginnings of a whimper bubbled up in the back of his throat, but he contained it. He didn’t trust himself to speak, residing to vigorously shaking his head.

“No?” you demurred with a quirk of a brow, fingers waltzing over to graze his hardening cock, “It doesn’t seem like that’s true.” you lean closer to him, breasts pressing against his arm as you whisper against the shell of his ear. “It’s okay, baby, you can tell me.”

Against his wishes, the whimper broke free from Spencer’s throat, sauntering like music into your ears. You hummed in delight at the reaction you’re eliciting from Spencer as his head rolled to bump into yours; his hands shoved under his hands, veins in his arms bulging as he tried his hardest to hold himself back. His bottom lip is trapped in between his teeth, chest rising and falling at a quickened pace to keep up with his ragged breathing as your fingers fully grip him, palm slowly grinding into his base.

“No!” he blurted out, “It’s okay, you don’t have to. You- oh! You already do s-so much for me. Besides, we can’t, you said…you said so yourself- mm-mhm!” a piteous moan cuts his sentence off and you can’t help but revel in it.

You think back to the conversation he references, shaking your head when you find a loophole, “I said you couldn’t move…That doesn’t mean I can’t still take care of you.” with a smirk you shift slightly, moving your hands to push at the waistband of Spencer’s plaid pajama pants. Before you could get it down even an inch, Spencer’s hands fly up to grab your wrists.

The way he crooned out your name had your eyes whipping to meet his, confusion welding your features, “You r-really don’t have to,” Spencer swallowed hard once again, but his voice was steadier than before, more firm, “I feel so bad, you’ve done so much for me. I…” a second passes as he tries to find the right words, “I feel so guilty for making you do this. I shouldn’t even be so turned on it’s wrong-”

You cut him off before he can go on, your hands moving to gently grasp both of his as you attempt to reassure him, “Spencer, you’re not ‘making’ me do anything. It’s not wrong at all. I want to- I want you. I miss making you feel good, baby. It’s okay to be turned on, won’t you let me help you?” One of your hands caresses his cheek, thumb shifting to trace under his bottom lip. “I’ll be careful, I know exactly how to make you feel good without you having to move a muscle.” Your once reassuring voice is back to dripping with desire as you whisper against the corner of his mouth, reeling Spencer in with ease.

He moans at your words, nuzzling into your palm and he digests your words. After a couple seconds go by, eyes flitting between each of yours to confirm your feelings, he caves in, “Please…”

His breathy plea spurs you onward and you make quick work of pulling down his pants just enough to let his cock spring free. The sight of his unbelievably hard, thick length hitting his abdomen was drool-worthy. Spencer sighed at the feeling of the cool air slicing the leaky head of his dick. He rested his head back against the sofa, watching you through heavy lids. You adjusted your position to get more comfortable before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to his tip, looking up at Spencer to watch his face. “Remember,” you started with a wicked smile, a single finger drawing up the underside of his length, “don’t move, honey.” And with that you descended onto his cock.

Ideally, you would have taken your time, but you were a starved woman. As soon as the head of Spencer’s cock passed your lips, you were moaning. You couldn’t even look up at him as you usually loved to do, losing yourself in the feeling of his fat cock stretching your lips. You sucked him in, first working the top half to warm yourself up, swirling your tongue around the tip, pressing into his sensitive spot, before swallowing down the rest. Obscene sounds filled the fervent air of the apartment, the salacious music emanating from Spencer’s throat proved to be the icing on the cake.

His hands were balled up, one desperately trying to hold onto the leather of the couch while the other fisted the fabric of your shirt, knuckles pressed against your back. Spencer felt like he was ascending to heaven, each suck of your lips, lap of your tongue, moan around his cock, had whimpers and unintelligent pleas mumbling from his mouth. “Yes, yes, yes!” was the only coherent sentence he could form. He didn’t hold back, either, paying no mind to whether or not his neighbors would be awoken.

His head thrashed against the back couch cushion as the desire to buck up his hips heightened. Your palms pressing into the top of his thighs, nails digging into his skin, prevented him. Still, you deftly bobbed up and down his long cock.

“A-ah, please! More, more, pleasee!” he whined out, his entire body shuddering from the pleasure. You moaned in response, not waiting any longer to burrow down on him, his length reaching even further down the back of your throat until your nose hit the dense plat of curly hair covering his base. “Oh my fucking God” Spencer groaned, his hands flying to rest on your head, fingers tangling into your hair, but not pushing you down. You stayed there for a few seconds, nails grounded further into the flesh of his thighs, allowing Spencer to feel the way your throat contracted around his cock. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” he breathed out, pushing your hair out of your face to look down at you properly. The view of you completely consuming him, eyes rolled back into your head, tears pricking the corners, brows furrowed in concentration as you fought your gag reflex and moaned around him almost had Spencer cumming down your throat right then and there. He would’ve, too, if you hadn’t released him from your mouth with a squelch, moving up closer to his line of sight, panting to catch your breath.

Spencer tried to thrust his hips up, but you held your weight down on him. “Oh, baby,” he whined out, cupping your face with both his big hands. You stared at him with a fucked out smile, chin covered in a mixture of your drool and his precum which you then wiped at with the back of your hand. “Please,” he whined, his splayed fingers pressing into the side of your hairline and your neck, “I’m so close. Wanna cum so bad…” he pulled your face to his and dove into to engulf your lips with his. He moaned into the deep kiss, tasting himself on you. Much to his dismay, you pulled away just a couple seconds later, leaving your lips against his to whisper:

“You wanna come in my mouth or in my pussy, baby?”

A/N: and, scene!! thank you again, anon, for being my first request, this was so fun and i actually finished this in one sitting just for you! anyone want a pt.2 where reader rides spencer??? wink wink :D also why do i have this scenario in my head when reader is absent-mindedly like...stroking spencer's cane LOL but it just turns him tf on cuz hes like omg i need you to do that to my dick pls HAHAHA

#spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid

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rainylana · 2 years

Text

“You are such a good girl.”

Eddie Munson x reader

summary: you excitingly show eddie your a+ that you got on a test, and well, things escalate.

warnings: shit i’m not gonna lie this is dirty💀 smut, language, praising, teasing and begging, reader has a thing for being called ‘good girl’ so a lot of that, talk of kinks, dacryphila, degradation. eddies cocky as hell. i think that’s it??

a/n: this was requested by @marauders3rawh0re ily babe, you’ve been on this blog ever since i started it! so i hope this satisfies your needs because i love this lmao.

“See Eddie? See? Oh, gosh, I can hardly believe it! I mean, I was just so nervous. I thought maybe, a B if I was lucky! Or even a C! But an A+! I can’t believe it?” There you were, hyped up on the adrenaline of a good grade, pacing the carpet in your room. You backed away as he climbed through your window, a wide smile on your face as you threw your arms around his neck.

“Whoa, there, babe,” He chuckled, patting your back. “Don’t I get a kiss first?”

You pulled away, grabbing his chin and pulling him down to yours. You have them a loud peck, and you squealed when his hand sneakily moved down to give your ass a squeeze. “See here! Look, Eddie, I can’t believe it!”

You shoved the paper in his hand, and he chuckled amongst himself as he observed your paper. He smirked, glancing your way. “What did I tell you? All that worrying for nothing. Good job, kiddo! Proud of you!” He hooked an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side as you both sat on the window seal.

You smiled as he kissed the side of your head, looking down as you fiddled with your fingers. Eddie always made you blush, since day one. You always caught yourself staring at his hands, the rings on them. You liked the look of the calluses on the pads of his fingers, making shapes and odd designs. They were rough, his hands, and honestly, you were sure that’s why you liked them.

But that was Eddie. He was rough. His music choice, his clothing. His mannerisms and attitude. It was a direct opposite of who you were. You two had been together for maybe a month now, but a lot of people didn’t even believe it, because it just didn’t fit. Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson with you, Miss innocent and not a hair out of place.

The kids thought maybe it was some prank, it had to of been. He even canceled dnd one night just to see a play you had been in. Dustin nearly cried. But Eddie couldn’t help it. You’d drawn him in like a fly to honey. You’d come to his lunch table one day, asking for signatures on a petition to end sexism at Hawkins High. Of course, everyone at the table signed, but it almost startled them to see you behind the sign. It was known you didn’t care much for conversation.

You asked with a small, shaky voice for signatures, and Eddie Munson fell head over heels in love with you that moment there. And the funny thing was, he’d never really noticed you before. He knew you, obviously, but it wasn’t like he’d already had a crush on you. It was something in the air that day, apparently, because your bravery lured him in.

He worked his magic and started conversations with you here and there, asking if you’d help tutor him to pass a class. You did, and he passed, but you fell head over heels with him too. And it wasn’t that the kids didn’t like you, they just didn’t know how to act around you, because it was weird for them to see Eddie so mushy around someone of the opposite sex.

Eddie brought out the best in you, though, a part of you that you were unfamiliar with. He was completely and utterly genuine with you, and didn’t treat you like a glass doll like everyone else did. The conversations you had seemed to last for hours. He also took your virginity, and that was only just a few weeks ago. That was an experience, for sure.

Your innocence to Eddie was nearly mind blowing. Your music taste, your clothing. Your attitude and mannerisms. It completely differed with his. He absolutely adored your little pink bow in your hair, your knee high socks and tight skirt. It nearly sent him to the grace.

“Thanks, I just tried to remember what you told me,” You continued, breathing in relief. “That all I needed to do was try my best, and that you had faith in me.” You blinked up at him with a smile.

“Good girl,” He tapped your nose, bumping his forehead against yours. “I knew you could do it.”

Well that was new. Your cheeks burned hotly at his comment, and god, you didn’t know why. You cleared your throat awkwardly, and you recognized that churn in your stomach. Sex was still new to you. There were so many…positions. You could do it…anywhere. It was overwhelming. Your mind buzzed with confusion, and you pulled your forehead away and cleared your throat again. “So, did you have a good day?”

He raised his brows in amusement at your tone, noticing how dark your cheeks had turned crimson. He kept his chuckle inside, but he knew damn well his little comment gave you butterflies. He’d have fun with that. “Good. The kids are preparing for the campaign tomorrow. Sinclair has another godforsaken game of laundry baskets again, so they’ll have to find a replacement. You in?” He stood, twirling around your room and observing the decor.

Your room was extremely pink. He loved it, but if he stared at an obnoxiously bright colored object too long, he got nauseas. “Oh, I- no, I’m alright.” You chuckled, pushing a loose curl back. “Truth be told I don’t think they like me very much.”

“Hey,” He narrowed his eyes. “It’s not that they don’t like you. It’s me that they’re unsure about. You’ve done nothing wrong, y/n.” He sent you that puppy love gleam as he picked up your music box.

“Well, neither have you, Eddie.” You began untying your shoes. “I guess we’re just modern day Romeo and Juliet.” Your tone softened at the realization, throwing your shoes to the side.

He glanced at your reflection in the mirror. He knew you felt guilty for not being his “type”. You even said it once. In fact, you cried. That was an ordeal of its own.

“We’re a match made in heaven, sweetheart.” He nearly sang, crouching down to your feet. “The freak and the good girl.” He watched your eyes then, and dear lord he saw them flare.

Your cheeks flushed again, your stomach fluttered at his words. Why was that sweet little phrase bothering you so? His hand was warm against your bare knee, but it sent firework sensations up your thigh from his statement.

“Ha!” He laughed in your face, causing you flinch.

“What?!” You jumped.

“You’re blushing! Again!” He clapped his hands in the musical rhythm he did when he was hyped up, dancing and shuffling his feet in amusement. “You totally like that, don’t you?”

“Like what?” You grew smaller, voice high in question. You really didn’t know what he was talking about, being confusing with your feelings yourself.

“Good girl!” He placed his hands on his knees, looking at you as his jaw hung open in amusement.

Your eyes grew wide when you realized the connection, and you straightened immediately. “I do not!” You defended hotly.

“Yes, you do!” He pointed, clapping his hands again. “Look at you! You blush every time I mention it!” He was laughing, chuckling and pointing at you as you grew utterly embarrassed.

“No- Eddie, will you shut-” You tried shouting, but crossed your arms in frustration. “Eddie, I do not!”

“Hey, I’m not judging you, babe,” He tried containing his laughter, moving back to crouch by your feet. His giggles were escaping his lips, and he pulled your hands into his. “Really, I’m not. It’s cute, actually.”

You groaned painfully loud, looking up to the ceiling. He snorted at your resistance. “No, it’s not. I’m disgusting.”

“So, you’re admitting it?”

Your eyes snapped to his. “No!” You yelped, causing him to cackle and put his hands up.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” He cleared his throat, trying to keep from embarrassing you more. “Really, y/n, it’s fine. Everyone has the stuff they like. Honestly, yours is pretty vanilla compared to what else is out there.”

Your eyes grew somewhat more curious at his words, peeking your interest. You swallowed roughly, looking down to pick at your nails. “Really?” Your voice squeaked.

Half of the time, he just wanted to laugh at how innocent you were, but it took a lot not to. He knew how incredibly shy you were, and it didn’t take much for you to crawl back into your shell.

“Sure.” He nodded enthusiastically, his black curls bouncing. “I mean, some people like to be tied up or uh- blindfolded. There’s um, choking and slapping. God, then there’s some real heavy bdsm type shit. That’s for another day. I don’t want to traumatize you.” He chuckled.

You brought up your nail to chew, thinking over his words. You couldn’t even imagine yourself in those scenarios, but you didn’t ever imagine being together with Eddie Munson, either. Your exact opposite. “But I couldn’t ever see you doing those things,” He got your attention, taking your finger away from the abuse of your teeth. “Since you’re such a good girl, and everything.” He tilted his chin at you, hooking his finger underneath your jaw. He said it with such seriousness this time, and it caused a sparking tension to electrify between you.

Your eyes flickering between his lips and his eyes, and your stomach continued to burn at the idea of being his good girl. You sighed. You couldn’t fake it anymore. “You’re right, I love it.” You breathed, smashing your lips against his.

Your arms wrapped around his neck as he pulled you both up, his hands holding your burning face. Your bodies glued together like magnets, his arms moving up and down your back as your lips danced like ballerinas. Your feet dangled slightly, due to the hold he had on you. He always had to lift you up a bit in times like these, having been so much short than him. It was either that, or him breaking his neck trying to bend down to kiss you.

Your back hit your bedroom door, and you gasped when his lips found your neck, his hands placing yours above your head. “Sex can be anything you want it to be, sweetheart,” He licked the skin below your ear, and you moaned sweetly, your leg curling around his ankle.

“You’re the boss. You tell me what you want me to do.” He sucked and nippled at your red skin, leaving pomegranate colored love bites to show off to the world. He loved claiming you that way.

It always made you feel shameful and embarrassed, asking him to do a certain thing during sex. You were too awkward for that, but Eddie was trying to chip away that wall. “I want-” Your voice broke, his fingers slowly unbuttoning your blouse.

“Yes?” He hummed.

His body pressed against yours, and your jaw fell slack, your neck craning to the ceiling as he licked a strip along your collar bone. “Call me a good girl.” You caved, a heavy, dripping sound of desperation in your voice. “Please, call- call me your good girl, Eddie, oh-”

You gasped as he swiftly picked you up by the waist, throwing you on the bed as he hovered above you. You moaned loudly into his mouth, his lips against yours once again. Kissing Eddie was like swimming inside of a painting. You could feel every molecule inside of him, and sometimes, kissing him alone was just as overwhelming as the sex itself. He would be the death of you. He settled himself between your legs, pressing his growing erection against your skirt.

“Oh, god.” You whimpered, turning your head into the pillow. The sensations alone were enough bliss for you, that’s how new it was. The sex was just going to get better and better.

“Take your skirt off.” His voice was stern, and you opened your eyes up at him in surprise. Eddie was not mean or dominating to you during sex, by any means. But on discovering your turn on, he was curious to experiment a bit. “Do as I say.” He took his hands off you, placing one on the headboard and the other by your hip.

You moved your hands to the waistband of your pink plaid skirt, but froze and looked back to him. His brown eyes pierced into yours, and he licked his lips, his mastermind moving faster than the speed of light. “Y/n,” He said firmly, yet there was always a hint of playfulness behind his lips. That’s why you were never scared, why you never had issues trusting him.

“Be a good girl and take your skirt off.” He raised a brow, and he watched as you bit your lip.

You pulled down the band, pushing it below your knees as you both sat up. He helped you push it through your ankles, and then next, went your panties. You were laid back again and you leaned up to excitingly kiss him, but he held his hand up. “Ah,” He grabbed your wrist. “Not just yet, my queen.”

You swallowed, your eyes blinking rapidly. “Why-” He shut you up with a kiss, pressing over so softly. You sighed into it, just tiny little pecks and motions he gave you.

Then, his hands brushed at your knees, and at the contact, you tried to spread your legs, but he wouldn’t let you. His grip them tightened, but his soft kissed didn’t let up. He placed one at the corner of your mouth, then dipping his tongue back to gloss over your teeth.

Then, they slowly trailed up your thighs, circling them with warm patterns. He was teasing you, but you were too dumb to realize. The puckering sounds of your wet lips filled the room, his fingers making you shiver. Your heart began to speed up when he slowly moved his fingers deeper into your legs, but it diminished quickly when he moved up to your stomach.

You curled your leg around his hip, desperate for friction. Deepening the kiss, you grabbed his hand, placing it on your breast. You were getting agitated for that sweet relief in the pit of your stomach, your thighs glistening with your arousal. You tried to reach for his belt, but he moved your hand away. You huffed, looking up. “Eddie, what the hell-”

“Watch that language,” He said sternly, eyes sharp. “Good girls don’t talk like that. Good girls don’t have bratty attitudes. So if you want me to give you what you want, you’ll have to be a good girl and behave yourself.”

Your eyes were wide with anticipation, and he hurriedly, moved down between your thighs. A loud gasp pushed it’s way out of you as he spread your legs, wrapping one leg around his neck. He placed a sloppy kiss on the inside of your thigh, and he continued his torturous pleasure.

Each thigh he kiss, slowly, messily. He sucked and bit, pulling at your sensitive skin. He blew soft air on your burning cunt, but he never touched it with his pink lips. He continued this for minutes, leaving you a shaky, sweaty and needy mess. You were whimpering like you were in pain, convulsing and arching your back, desperate for any source of friction to find. Your hands dug into the long, black ropes of his hair, pulling like rapunzel.

“Oh, god, Eddie please,” You begged, trying to pull his head up. “Please- I need you so bad, I can’t do it,”

He smiled against your skin, the shakiness of your voice pleasuring him. He came up to you, his hand going the base of your neck. “Poor baby,” He frowned, his finger wiping away the sweat on your forehead. “You’ve done so good for me. Should I reward you?”

“Yes!” You nodded furiously. “Yes, now-”

“No, no,” He tsked, holding up a finger. “Ask me nicely, sweetheart. Trust me, I can do this all night.”

You bit back a cry, throwing your head back on the pillow. “Please, please, Eddie,” You breathed heavily. “Please, reward me. I want you so bad, please- I want you inside me.”

“You want me to fuck you, is that it?” He unbuckled his belt, lifting himself up. “You want me to fuck you like the good girl you are?”

“Yes,” You whimpered. “Let me be your good girl, I wanna be your good girl so bad. Please-” He had hurriedly aligned himself at your entrance, his cock painfully hard, and thrusted into you within a second. A cracked, heavy cry spewed from your lips, and your arms wrapped around his neck like a cat, your nails digging into his back.

The headboard cracked against the wall with his first thrust, and your jaw nearly broke as you cried out. Your bodies molded together, your bed squeaking and snapping at the quick, violent movements he made. He hugged your body, burying his face in your neck. “Oh, god!” You sobbed, tears forming in your eyes.

This whole experience felt different. His attitude, the way he treated you. Each thrust was more forceful, deeper, and it was hard for you to stay conscious. “Oh, oh, my god! God, oh, god!” You repeated over and over. Your stomach had never felt so hot, so on fire with a burning light inside you. Your nails were in his skin, drawing blood, you were sure.

“Fuck.” He groaned into your skin, but you could barely hear, because you were in complete ecstasy.

He gripped the headboard, giving another thrust that made you hysterical. Tears fell down your face as you sobbed, staining the collar of your unbuttoned shirt. His lips found yours, a hard look on his face as he tried to keep from coming. He always put you first. His cock continued to drive into you with a heavy speed, and he kissed you sloppily, drinking in your sobs.

You always cried during sex, and he was far used to it. He loved it, actually.

“You’re such a good girl, y/n.” He moved faster, picking up your leg and throwing it over his shoulder. “You’re- fuck, you’re my girl. My good girl. Cum for me, sweetheart.”

And you did, with a final, sharp thrust, that tight ball in your stomach popped, crashing over you like waves. Sobs left you, holding on to him like he was your life raft. Your legs shook and your body convulsed, your pussy throbbing painfully over his cock. You fell back in exhaustion, and Eddie, all he could do was listen to you.

“You are such a good girl.”

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson #joseph quinn #stranger things season four #stranger things

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diorsbrando · 8 months

Text

QUIET PERCEPTION. ( neuvillette )

neuvillette x plus size!fem!reader

cw ━━ ! minors and ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT. reader is written as plus sized/thick, and also as a black woman but you do not have to imagine it as such, anyone is welcome to read. fiancé!reader. just fluffy, lovey dovey stuff <3 neuvi still actively trying to understand him being completely in love with you and the fact you love him back. neuvillette is (un)intentionally is romantic and charming. use of endearment terms in french ( i so desperately wanted to be creative with pet names but i'm still tryna get a read on his character so i decided to play it safe LMAO). some locations (i.e. where neuvilette lives) may not be canon; i just pulled info from different sites. somewhat proofread.

word count ━━ ! 2.06k

notes ━━ ! this'll be something short n sweet <3 i could have sworn that i've written about a genshin character before but looking back, it seems as if i was mistaken :D i definitely have several concepts/wips about genshin charas but i never got to finish them so . . . . here's to my first genshin piece 🥂 i imagined my first would be abt zhongli or diluc ( bc i adore them until the end of time ) but fate has changed <3 this handsome gorgeous man came out of nowhere and captured my heart and won't let go. @gabzlovesu , i actually did it :)

THE STEADY STREAM OF pouring water was the only constant sound that resonated throughout the spacious estate of the Chief Justice of Fontaine. The extravagant windows had the blinds drawn, so the luminescence of the moon was free to shine as it pleased, and take a peek inside the many walls of the home of the ludex.

Inside the master bedroom laid the Chief Justice himself, and you, his dearest fiancé, wrapped securely and loving in his arms.

Well, you were wrapped in his arms.

The space where you were previously laid would soon be vacant, as you found yourself having odd, after-midnight cravings of a certain kind of tea. Despite your obvious sleepiness and exhaustion, your brain would not rest, and kept generating memories about the last time you've had the pleasure to make yourself this beverage and imagined how good it would taste at this hour of the night.

When all is quiet, in sound and in mind, one would have more of an opportunity to really savor something. You reasoned that the tea was bound to taste even better if you drank it now, which was all the motivation you needed to gently maneuver yourself from underneath your fiancé's rather anchored hold on you. It took you quite some time to do so because you didn't want to wake him up. For someone that worked the way he did, he deserved as much undisturbed rest as possible.

Adjusting the bonnet on your head, you slid your bare feet into your slippers that sat at the corner of your bed. The hard marble and tile floors were a lot colder at night when they couldn't be warmed up by the rays of the sun.

You took your time making your way to the kitchen and pantry area. The manner in which you ambled about the corridors━ your cream colored night gown wading at your ankles, flowing with each step you took━ made you akin to a ghost in a haunted mansion.

Once you reached your destination, you went straight ahead and grabbed all the ingredients you would need at a leisurely pace, taking more fulfillment in making a simple cup of tea than you normally do. Usually, you would have thought the whole process was annoyingly long-winded, but this time it was different.

Maybe it's because it was quiet. Your mind was quiet. Your heart was quiet; there was no rush. You allowed yourself to relax, to bask in the tranquility of the moment.

The soft clinks of metal and porcelain, as well as the delicate sound of your humming voice, were added onto the noises of the rushing fountains.

All of the noises were symphonious with each other, to the point where they all merged into one. Soon you were entirely engulfed in your current task and the little noises that filled the air.

And perhaps too engrossed, because you were unable to sense the presence of Neuvillette, who had shifted slightly in his sleep only to notice you had disappeared. He wouldn't be able to, or want to admit it, but the bed you shared turned out to be a little colder in your absence.

"So, here you were," he questioned as he entered, holding a candle in his hand. His voice was a huskier than normal, most likely because he had just woken up from his slumber. You have come to believe over time that the sound of Neuvillette's voice, especially when it was thick with sleep, was the most soothing and melodious sound you would ever have the pleasure of hearing.

Even now, you had to bite back a grin, for the sound of his somewhat deeper voice, and the nature of his statement, caused a giddy feeling to erupt in your stomach. The sensation crawled from your gut and spread across your body like an electric current, and generated a bashful warmth in your face.

"Here, I am," your cheeky reply flowed smoothly from your lips, briefly looking back at him for a moment before grabbing the cocoa powder. "And here I thought I had been as quiet as a church mouse when getting out of bed. Seems I was unfortunately mistaken." The faintest gasp arose from your throat when you suddenly felt your fiancé's body behind you, gently pressing against your back in an effort to embrace you once more.

The Chief Justice knew how to explain and rationalize a lot of things on a many broad subjects, in and outside of the Opera Epiclese of the Fontaine court. But he was at a loss when it came to humans━ specifically and especially when it came to you.

Articulating his feelings for you, trying to fully understand why you felt this way about him in return, and just why he always felt more content when you were this close to him were some things he admittedly struggled to find logical solutions to.

Neuvillette's lips were a hair's breadth away from the upper part of your ear so when he hummed, goosebumps almost immediately erected on the surface of your deep, chestnut skin. His voice, now even lower than before, and the large palm he placed on your torso, startled you to a degree where you nearly spilt all the powder on the counter.

"You should recall how light a sleeper I am. Alas, your attempt to be inconspicuous was all for naught. I'm afraid that nearly anyone would have awoken from all the rustling that resulted from your movements."

You couldn't stop the soft laugh that tumbled past your lips at his subtle jab at your inability to be sneaky. Hearing him say anything resembling a joke at another's expense was certainly rare. "I suppose you're right. It seems my eagerness for tea dulled my usually agile movements."

This time Neuvillette chuckled and shook his head a bit, and his small smile stretched into a wider one when he heard you laugh along with him. The heart that resided in his chest pumped faster and with much more force whenever he heard the sound. He could listen to it all day.

"I'm sorry I woke you up though. I've disturbed you from getting the proper rest you need." You felt the need to apologize, even though it was unlikely your white haired fiancé would ever be upset with your for something like that. "Even more so because I am fully aware of the long day you have ahead of you tomorrow."

Without warning, Neuvillette proceeded to wrap both of his arms around your abdomen and pulled you even closer to his chest. You could feel the ridges and dips of his rather defined and etched stature through the thin satin of your night gown. With little force and much care, he turned you around to that you were now facing him, leaving you no choice but to pause in the stirring of your tea. His hands rested lovingly on your hips and your backside was pressed firmly against the counter.

The space between the two of you remained nonexistent.

"I, too, am aware of the day that awaits me in several hours. But please, do not apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for."

You were about to reply but Neuvillette silenced whatever it was your were going to say next when he leaned down slightly, and captured your lips in a delicate but amorous kiss. In reality it didn't last for more than three seconds, but to you, in your own little world with this man you got to claim as yours, it felt like it lasted much, much longer.

The effect of time seeming like it slowed down felt even more real when the two of you broke away from each other, and his silvery lavender eyes peered into yours. "Truthfully, I don't mind losing a bit of sleep....if it means that I don't have to wait until the morning to have you look at me like this, and hear your voice again."

Your eyes widened a fraction, not expecting him to say something so affectionate or romantic unprovoked. A fond smile tugged on the corners of your lips, already knowing your mind would be replaying his words for weeks to come over and over again, like a malfunctioning record player.

"Oh, mon amour...." was all you were able to say at the moment, your tone soft and breathy, slightly above a whisper. For as long as you have been with your white haired fiancé, he was still effortlessly capable of causing the butterflies in your stomach to hatch from their cocoons, and fly around in a frenzy.

Neuvillette lifted one hand to palm your cheek, and stroke it slowly with the pad of his thumb. His hand, his body, the look in his eyes were filled with warmth, and you wanted to cherish it for as long as possible. Your hands rested on his chest, and you leaned into his touch as he pecked your lips once and then twice more, for good measure and solely because he desired to feel you against him one more time.

The Chief Justice decided he liked this expression on your face. It suited you quite well, he thought. Right now you were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on in his long-standing life.

After a moment, a low chuckle rumbled in the man's chest before leaning forward to peck your temple. "I think I'm craving a bit of tea as well. I'm sure it will quell this newfound thirst that arbitrarily appeared."

Smiling again, you separated from your lover so you can finish on your cup, and so he could get started on his. As you stood side by side, and even as you both finished and made your way back to the master bedroom, you continued to talk to each other about whatever topic lingered in the atmosphere. Anything from the upcoming trial and cases he was overseeing tomorrow, mundane things that you saw on the streets of Fontaine that day, what you had for lunch, and everything else in between was discussed between the two of you.

Before either of you even realized it, the hue of the room turned from colorless dark to a deep cerulean blue, and the songs of the birds reverberated throughout the walls of your bedroom.

It was morning.

"Oh my! Has dawn truly come? And so soon at that...I didn't mean to keep you━"

The words of exclamation were lodged in your throat once more, as you watched him take your hand in his, and placed a feathery kiss on your knuckles and fingers.

"Do not trouble yourself over matters that are not your doing. You need not worry about me, ma douce."

Like a puddle of water that has been sitting in the sun all day, you're felt like you could evaporate just from the intensity of your fiancé's lidded gaze. Sometimes you wondered if he was even aware of his influence on every part of your body.

"Besides, I don't recall ever saying that I intended to leave at this very moment. We still have plenty of time together; the morning has only just begun."

Completely intertwining your hand with his, Neuvillette seamlessly maneuvered you both back onto the soft, inviting sheets, with you conveniently laying on top of him.

His long, snowy hair sprawled from his scalp in all directions making him look majestic with no effort at all. At times, you even found yourself jealous of his beauty. But you wouldn't dare utter such words to him; you'd rather simply admire and even found yourself a little prideful that such a dauntingly beautiful man would be yours forever.

If only you knew that to Neuvillette, you resembled an angel from the Celestial heavens. The sun hasn't risen over the mountains just yet, but your being blinded him, and he found himself never wanting to see another thing again.

Overcome with ardor for you, his hand found its way to the back of your neck to pull your face downward and closer to his, because he was craving another taste of you.

You melted in his touch, and savored the taste of vanilla and crème on his tongue and his hands on your body. The only thing wrong with this moment, was the dawn came too soon.

( # ) ━ since i never wrote for genshin before, i don't have a tag list for it lolz ! but i might as well make one soooo if you wanna join let me know <3 here's the link to my taglist form for my other works <3 @osamwah @smiley-babe y'all would prob like this fdkjdkd

#໒꒱ newborn stand ─ sosa’s filez #❛ mdni.#maybe i should stop planning out fics too much bc this was another random unplanned idea #initially i wasn’t even confident in my abilities to write for him bc he just became official #but watching the same edits of him and staring at pictures wasn’t doin it for me no mor #anyway #genshin impact #genshin impact 4.0 #genshin fanfic #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin x black reader #black fem reader #neuvillette #neuvillette genshin #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x black reader

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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year

Text

Meet the Millers (part 1)

Neighbourhood dilf!Joel Miller x Reader

(AO3 mirror) TLOU Masterlist

summary: Your neighbour, Joel Miller, has always caught your eye. After a perfect storm of events, you end up in his house. Or more accurately, in his bed.

warnings: pwp, at least half of this is just smut, fingering, grinding, squirting, dirty talk, eventual fwb, reader and Joel are oblivious asf, a bit of angst (bc i love any excuse for angst). 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: this will be a (short) series! lowkey just an excuse for me to write fwb!Joel lmao. Also, don’t look too closely: it's an au set in 2004 cuz I said so.

wc: 4k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He knows exactly what he's doing. Joel Miller on Mrs Harris’ porch, in a tank top and snug jeans, wiping the sweat of his brow. Fucking delicious in the hot summer air.

You're not watching, of course. Just…. checking the mailbox. It's not an excuse to see the way his arms ripple as he tugs at the cord of the lawnmower, or how his tanned back flexes in the sun. Nope. Not at all.

You sidle up to the mailbox, giving discreet glances at Joel on the porch opposite. The rip and roar of the lawnmower is so loud, you barely hear him call out to you.

"Hey neighbour!" He calls, giving you a wave. The hem of his shirt slides up to reveal his v-line. You make a point to keep your eyes upwards.

"Hey yourself!" You open up the mailbox to find a couple of letters. Perfect for pretending like you weren't ogling the man opposite a mere few metres away. Unbeknownst to you, he chuckles at your attempt to distract yourself from him. He thinks it's cute. He jogs across the road.

"I got something for you," Your eyes practically bulge out your head. "Think Sarah took your spare keys by accident." Oh. Oh. She'd been coming over to feed your cat for a couple weeks, whilst you were away. Procrastinating, as usual, you'd been putting off getting your keys back for the past week.

~~~

You'd moved in about six months ago. As someone who worked from home, you'd quickly built an odd routine. Joel was in the same boat: a contractor, working odd hours, some days at home and some days working from 8am to 8pm. As a new neighbour, you tried not to make a splash - quiet and respectful in the quiet Texan suburb. No kids, no husband - just you and your cat, Arlo.

You didn't ask for him in your life: sometimes seeing Joel in his yard or packing up his truck. Occasionally, you'd pass each other picking up the morning paper, or late at night after your runs. Sarah was the one to say hi first, complimenting your clothes just before a night out. You're waiting for a cab on the front porch when you see her.

"Hey neighbour!" She called, her dad behind her slamming the boot in a huff.

You wave back, dolled up in a little black dress and probably a little too much makeup. "Hey, yourself!"

She jogs towards you. "God, that is a cute dress! I've been bugging my dad for ages to let me get one just like it, where's it from?" She knocks you off guard, stuttering as you tell her the brand.

"Thanks, it's not too expensive either, and it has pockets ," Despite yourself, you give her a twirl, showing off its hidden feature.

"No freakin' way!" Sarah smiles warmly, hand on your arm and introduces herself. "Sarah. We met at the potluck a couple weeks ago."

You furrow your brow. "Oh, the Millers! Of course, you brought the veggie hotdogs and grilled kebabs."

She nods. "We haven't had the chance to say hi yet! My dad, Joel…" she turns to wave at the man who stands at the car, arms crossed like a gruff bulldog. "...he's not the friendliest. But Mrs Harris, next to us, says you came round and took a look at her computer. She said it was half dead and you fixed it up for her; you… work at a fancy tech company and you're really good at that stuff? So, I've got a weird question to ask."

"We were wondering if you could have a look at our new computer for us? I think we messed it up trying to set up and it keeps coming up with this blank blue screen…. no pressure of course! A-And we'll pay you in pancakes and coffee!" The young girl seems jittery, bouncing on the balls of her feet. You can't say no to her.

"S-sure. I've got some time, tomorrow morning. Let's say… after 9? If that's okay with your dad."

She squeals, almost knocking you over in a frantic hug. "Thank you, thank you! Dad? Dad, guess what…?"

She bounds off into her Dad's arms, excitedly babbling about your conversation. You chuckle to yourself in the light of the streetlamps. You'd noticed him around, of course. He's the only one on your street the same age as you: the rest were old and retired. At the potluck, he manned the grill, reserved but skilful. A man of few words, but Joel Miller laughed and smiled like a hyena around his daughter. It was sweet. You were happy to help.

The morning after, you felt rough, admittedly. Technically, you'd gone out for networking - strictly business. But one work drink turned into two, two turned into three; and then you were downing shots until 3 in the morning. The pounding headache at your temples seemed punishment enough. Shit. The time.

You get to Joel's at 15 past 9, impressive considering that you were in bed 10 minutes ago. You're dressed in a light sundress and slippers, standing on the doorstep. You knock, and Joel opens the door: scruffy and in a t-shirt and low gray joggers. There's the scruff of a 5 o'clock shadow on his face; making him look rugged and good in the morning light. You're imagining how it would feel on your thighs, rough beard scratching at the plush skin, dragging your sweet cunt on the apex of his nose…..

"Sarah's upstairs," He clears his throat, morning voice low and gruff.

"I'm not too early? Looks like I woke you up." You walk in and he points you up the stairs.

"S'alright sweetheart. It's not a bad view to wake up to."

You almost trip up the stairs at the implication. Joel's behind you, hand steady at the crook of your back to stop you from falling.

"I j-just meant getting our computer fixed. Sarah's been so excited and I'm not good at that kinda thing…"

"I get it. You're okay." You chuckle. He's beautifully flushed, hand snaking around the back of his neck to scratch at it nervously. "But is this all okay with you? She kinda ambushed me yesterday, and I can't make any promises-"

"-she tends to do that. She looks at you with those big brown eyes and then all of a sudden…." ...you're in your hot neighbour's house, on your hands and knees. To fix his computer, of course. "That's my Sarah. I'd be more scared if she wasn't my own."

You like her. She's buzzing through her door when you walk up the stairs, excited. She grabs your hand and leads you to Joel's office. "Morning! So, I've been fiddling around with the parts but I can't get her to turn on…"

"Her?" You laugh.

"Her name is Carol, and she's basically my kid." She kneels at the wires under the desk. "Dad had no clue how to set this up so, of course, I had to do everything. See, with this cord…"

She chatters as she explains her process. You find out she's funny, and bright: a smart young kid who sourced most of the materials herself. Frankly, she reminds you of yourself; a young upstart in college looking for an explosive new career. Under his desk, you trace the cables and explain what they all do, peeling back the clunky tower to find the source of the problem. Sarah listens, intently, asking you questions about how it all works - clearly inquisitive. Joel watches at the doorway, equally enraptured. The technical details all go over his head, but he softens when he sees Sarah so free with you. You laugh at her jokes and indulge all her questions, no matter how small. You are kind and patient with her, refusing to be patronising; engaging her at her own level.

When you finish up, Joel calls you downstairs for coffee and pancakes, as promised. Sarah races down the stairs, and you trail behind her. From the kitchen, Joel likes the way you look in his home, in a pretty dress and a smile on your face. He shakes the sudden thought out of his head.

"Dad, I swear to god, Lindsey's not gonna believe it. She told me about MySpace, but she didn't think I'd actually do it-"

"Lindsey? S'that the girl who came to your party, the one with the buck teeth?" He says, between mouthfuls of pancakes.

"That's Linda, Lindsey's-"

"The one in your math class, right? With the-" You put your hands up by head to mimic horns, pulling a face that makes her laugh. It makes him laugh, too.

It's been a couple of hours, when you get back home. You collapse on the couch, warm and content. It becomes the beginning of a gentle back and forth with the Millers.

~~~

"You alright there, sweetheart?"

You've spaced out on Joel's sofa. Joel’s by the kitchen island, rummaging around the drawers and running a lazy hand through his locks. With the way his arms flex and stretch with ease, you’re left practically drooling; head swimming with all the ways you could make his legs buckle, or how his hand would feel between your thighs, or…

He cocks his head to the side in amusement. “Think I lost you again.”

Embarrassed, you cringe into yourself. “Sorry, Joel. Just thinking.”

“....about?” He prompts.

“Work. Mostly.” You lie. “Sarah, too. Thinking about if she knows you whore yourself out to the neighbours like this.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” He keep his head down, pointedly.

“... I bet Mrs Harris enjoys the view, then.” You say it under your breath, but he hears and laughs. Quiet, at first and then roaring; laughing so hard tears form at his eyes.

“You're gonna kill me, sweetheart .” he laughs.

Time and time again, the pet name makes something at the pit of your stomach bubble. At first, you thought it was Southern hospitality, something you weren’t used to before moving down here. The doll’ s and the bless ‘yer heart ’s rolled off your back coming from everyone else; at the grocery store, grabbing lunch, at the bank. But coming from Joel : with a warmth that knocks you over every time? It would be the death of you, you’re sure.

“What’s she payin’ you, then?”

His back is turned now, head into the depths of a cupboard. “..just needed to get out the house. M’goin’ crazy in here.”

You hum. “It’s quiet downtown?”

“Too quiet. The Kier contract finished a while ago, and now m’just twiddling my thumbs waiting for another one to tide me over.” He peeks out from the wooden frame. “I think I’m actually bored without Sarah.”

You giggle. God, he was such a softie. A couple days of Sarah at a summer camp and Joel seemed to be bouncing off the walls already. It was cute, even if the deep furrows in his brow made him look so frustrated. “I think if she heard that she wouldn’t let me live it down.”

You’re up now, palms dragging along the surface of the counter, a grin as big as a dinner plate plastered on your face. “Wouldn’t it be such a shame if someone were to tell her…”

He stops, dead still. “You wouldn’t dare.”

You get a little closer. “I would.”

He narrows his eyes as you step closer, until the tips of your noses almost brush together. “You-”

“- would. ” You say, barely a whisper. Thick, long eyelashes frame the chocolate brown of his eyes: stormy, lidded. You can't help it, in the tension. Your own eyes flick towards his lips and you bite down words that are a little… inappropriate.

Instead, you tap the drawer by your hip and open it up to a tray of knick knacks. In the rough and tangle, your spare keys sit squarely in the nest. Joel grabs them and takes your hand, softly, to put them in your palm.

"You wanna stay? For a drink?"

You cut the air with melodious laughter. "It's 11am, Joel."

Indifferent, he shrugs. "I've got some beer in the fridge, and an empty house. Could do with some good company…"

"...why not?" You smile.

You sit on a battered loveseat outside, on his deck. The sun is shining, the sliding door open, and you're nestled in the cushions next to Joel. He sits closer than expected, a lazy arm draped on the back of the furniture and the other swigging a cold beer. You place yours in the gap of your lap, giggling at the way he clinks your bottles together. He makes you feel like a teenager, the meat of your thighs peeking out from your shorts and touching the cool glass.

"Didn't think I'd see you out this morning.

"And why's that?" You ask.

"Would'a thought you'd be nursing a pretty mean hangover." He shrugs.

"Ummm…?"

"I saw you last night," He explains. "Real late, stumblin' out of a taxi. You were wearing a different dress to the last time, so I just thought-"

"Well, last time it was work drinks."

"S'always work drinks, sweetheart." Your heart goes thud-thud. Sweetheart.

"Last night, it was a date." You see him clench his jaw and tense up slightly.

"...But?" He prompts, taking a long swig of his beer.

"But…" You sigh. "I got stood up."

He almost does a spit take, choking on his drink. His eyebrows are raised, confused. " Seriously? "

"Seriously." You deadpan. "Probably should've known. He sounded weird on the phone a couple of days before…"

"-He didn't call you right before your date?"

" God Joel , I know how it sounds, okay? Thought I was overreacting but I guess I'm not good at seeing red flags."

He deliberates for a moment. "Yeah, me neither."

It's your turn to be confused, and so he clarifies. "Sarah's mom."

Your mouth forms a silent Oh , in realisation. You put a hand on his arm, that flopped down by your side. "Was it just you and her in the beginning?"

"Me and Sarah? Sure feels like it." He mumbles. "But I wouldn't have it any other way."

"She's a good kid." You say softly. "You did good."

He grunts in affirmation before turning to you. "You're probably the smartest person I know. Sarah looks up to you for good reason. You dodged a bullet. That dickbag doesn't know what he's missing."

"Thanks, Joel." And then you titter, softly. "Would've been nice to get laid, though."

He makes a face you can't quite read, so you nudge him with your elbow. "Not like that! It's just been a while with work and-"

"You're okay, sweetheart." He smiles with a faraway look in his eyes. Unceremoniously, he downs the rest of his beer, and says something you don't quite hear.

"I could help with that." He tucks away your hair absentmindedly, and rests his hand by your cheek.

"Huh?" You almost splutter. It comes out like an unintelligible garble.

"I could make you feel good." A little louder this time, but low and sultry. The tips of his fingers brush your cheek. Honestly, it makes you short circuit, overloading your brain with a million ways to interpret his words. He takes your silence for a no.

Apologetically, he says, "Forget I said anythin’-"

You kiss him, impossibly soft at first. You lean into one another, gulping down air with the way your chest pounds. It could be the beer, or Joel, but you feel light-headed when you separate. He stays close, thumb on your chin and never once breaks eye contact.

"Need to hear you say it." He strains.

From your mouth comes the three words it feels like he's been waiting a lifetime for. You chew your lip, but without missing a beat you say what you both need to hear. " I want you ."

He crashes his lips to yours this time, sloppy and needy and desperate. You want to swallow him whole, warmth radiating off you both. You're not thinking when you clamber onto his lap, dragging your pussy on his jeans. Groaning, he separates like it's all too much.

" F-fuck, sweetheart. "

You're sure it's suggestive, in tiny sleep shorts and no bra, eaten up in a large t-shirt. The material of your panties have been swallowed up by your cunt, soaking wet. You need his hands on you, but he seems surprisingly chaste - having them rest on your back for now. Smiling into the kiss, you tug them lower and he squeezes the plush of your ass in response. You reward him with a moan and the delicious roll of your hips in his lap. Joel’s rock hard in his jeans, and you savor the feeling of it against your pussy.

“Want you to be more specific, doll. What do you want?” He pauses to nip at the juncture of your neck, leaving wet kisses in his wake. You can’t think properly with the way his hands knead at your hips and your ass; strong, rough palms brushing against your skin under your shirt.

Without thinking, you croak. “Y-your hands. Need your fingers in me.”

He groans, hips jumping up at your words, and then takes a moment with his head on your shoulder. Cursing, he lifts you up with ease so you're on his lap facing the garden.

He slaps a big palm on the crotch of your shorts, making you jump. One strong around your waist, the others strums at your clothed cunt - rubbing you until you're soaked through. You turn your neck as much as you can to suck hickeys into the base of his neck. Flushed, you realise just how exposed you two are: with the slatted wooden fence barely covering you from view. All your neighbours had to do was step out into their gardens to see you writhing on Joel's lap. Against all reason, the thought makes you wetter, and you whine.

Ever perceptive, Joel traces his hand around the waistband of your shorts. "You like this, don't you darlin'?"

You whine when he dips his hand lower, barely glancing your clit. "F-Fuck… don't know.. what you're talking 'bout."

His other hand snakes under your shirt, slowly but surely brushing against the apex of your nipples. "That someone could see us…"

"N-no, Joel-"

"That someone could see you fucked out on my lap like this. Like a dirty slut…"

"J-Joel-"

"Can't go saying my name like that, sweetheart. Someone might hear you," He wrenches your legs open with his knees and finally, finally, circles your clit quicker. " Fuck, fuuuck, listen to how wet you are f'me. Prettiest fuckin' whore this side of town.…you make the prettiest noises.."

It's not fair, really. He kneads at your tits, sending pleasure up your spine at the way he manhandles you. He slips a thick finger into your hole and you clench at the stretch. The bulge of his cock rocking into your ass, his fingers at your pussy, and a hand pawing at your tits? You had no chance.

"M'gonna cum, fuck , Joel m'gonna.."

"Cum for me, sweetheart."

His voice is low and tender, and pushes you off the edge. With a moan, your walls clamp down onto his finger, and you see white in the heat of your orgasm. It's been a while since you've cummed; usually a desperate hand in your pussy for a quickie every now and then; but the feeling is amplified 10 times as much with Joel whispering obscenities into your ear. You shake with the aftermath and pull him into a deep kiss.

"You ok?" He asks, the concern making you laugh after the filth he had been saying mere seconds ago. You nod, smiling warmly at him in the morning sun. He gives you another kiss and then you jump as he slips another finger in you.

"Wanna give you another one," Eyes lidded, he slows, waiting for permission. "And another, and another. As many as you'll let me."

You nod, gently, and he picks up the pace. His fingers go in and out of your sopping hole, thumb tightly on your clit. Joel's fingers are magical - unwavering and hitting all the right spots. He plays you like a guitar, listening for your moans and the way your body reacts - strumming this way and that to get you to orgasm. And you do, again, but gentler; bliss washing over you like the tide.

He's your neighbour, and you've never seen him like this: in a trance-like state, moulded into you and hellbent on your pleasure. All you can do is sink into his embrace, drunk on him and the way his lips taste - beer and breathmints - in the airy light of the morning.

He's coaxing you through your third orgasm when you feel it, a pressure just behind your swollen clit. Joel notices the way your legs shiver and the subtle shake of your hips.

"You're so beautiful." He says, pumping faster. "Knew it when I saw you in that little dress, tits spillin' out and I knew it when I saw you today. You look so good with my hand buried in your cunt, humpin' my lap like a bitch in heat..."

"J-Joel I can't…"

"You can, baby, jus' one more."

"I can't.."

"So, so close for me, please . Cum on my fingers f'me, sweetheart , please -"

With a sob, you clamp down on his fingers once more. Your orgasm ripples down your body, like a tight thread snapped in a split second. Liquid gushes from your cunt; so much his hand and your shorts are covered in it. Did you just…? The pressure at the base of your stomach peters off, and Joel talks you through it.

He covers you in kisses at the apples of your cheek, your forehead, anywhere he can reach. "Did so good f'me. You're such a good girl, baby."

You whine when he separates his hand from your slick. Groaning, he brings his fingers to his lips and licks them clean; of which his fervor makes you dizzy. All you can do is watch, exhausted but satisfied, through lidded eyes. He rubs your knee with his other hand.

"Let's get you cleaned up." Nonchalant, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. You bury your head in the crook of his shoulder, embarrassed at the mess you've made. Joel only laughs, squeezing you into a hug.

~~~

Simply put, he's a gentleman; making you feel completely at ease. He urges you towards a hot shower, with a change of clothes folded neatly by the door. It's his clothes - Sarah's were too small to fit - and they're big but familiar on your body. You traipse down the stairs in Joel's old sweats and a flannel, padding into the kitchen. Joel's at the hob, wearing a new t-shirt and loose tartan bottoms. You try not to think about how he was almost elbow deep in your pussy not too long ago. Or how he made you see stars more times in an hour than you have in months .

"Just made lunch." He stirs at the pot on the stove. You sidle up to him, close but careful. He dips in a finger to the sauce he's making. "Pasta. Think it's missing something, though."

Without thinking, you hold his hands to your lips and suck the sauce off his finger. "More salt, maybe?"

He looks a little dumbfounded. Oh. Oh. God, you can't help it when he looks like that, stormy and brooding and…

"More salt it is, then. You could help me finish it? I can put on a movie or somethin’."

You want to, you really do. It would be like heaven with your head on Joel Miller's shoulder, on the sofa - seeing him soft and domestic . Like a relationship.

"I should head home, I think." You don't exactly know the etiquette for one night stands. "Next time."

To be honest, you didn't even know if this counted as a one night stand? Just sex? Friends with benefits? Would there even be a next time?

His smile seems rueful for a second before he nods.

"Next time, sweetheart."

#HE'S SOOOO #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel miller #tlou x reader #tlou fic #tlou #tlou smut #joel miller smut #fwb #pwp #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal x reader #kat_writes😼

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