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stars4chratt · 2 months

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Pins n' Needles

Pairing: Chris x fem!reader

Contents: piercing shop, piercer!Chris

Warnings: SMUTTYYY / blowjob / public sex (kinda) / male stimulation / throat fuck / praise / pet names; (ma, mama, sweetheart, sugar, doll, good girl) / begging if you squint / switch Chris / Chris + vertical labret, eyebrow & tongue pierced / implied aftercare

Summary: The reader has a booked appointment with Chris to get a new piercing, you’ve become a regular at his shop from the few piercings you’ve gotten before. Unbeknownst to you, he’ll be doing more than just sticking a needle in this time.

Author’s note: Hey y’all, this is my first ever fic I’m posting on my blog. I’ll keep this note short n’ sweet but I hope you guys like it!! Please also give me feedback/constructive criticism because I want my writing to be 100% satisfactory for you all. This is also VERY long; apologies in advance, but again I hope you enjoy it!! From Maxine, with love ❣.

“I wanna put you in my mouth… I wanna crush you in my jaws.” - IN MY MOUTH, BLACK DRESSES

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You were full of anticipation while dreaming of getting yet another piercing done. You really loved your others you received before, and you never once had an issue with them rejecting or becoming infected. It’s what made this particular location your favourite.

As you climb down the steps to the bottom floor of a punk-rock, alternative store; it reveals a funky, LED-lit piercing shop. To the right, there stood a desk with posters of underground grunge bands that mixed soulfully with big and upcoming rappers and R&B artists hung up on the brick wall.

There’s a mellow softness of music in the background. From what you can hear, it sounds a lot like FE!N by Travis Scott and Playboi Carti. On the opposite side; there were satiny, leather black couches that hung low from the weight of many customers who had sat there before. The place was desolate and quiet, aside from the tunes muffled in the back.

You naturally assumed it was empty and you were simply a bit early, until you heard a door barge open.

As you turn your head 45 degrees to look back at what the sudden clamour was, you see a silhouette of a man staring at you. His brunette hair hangs low over his eyebrows in heavy contrast to his icy blue irises.

The dimness of the room brings shade over his profile but a glimmer of light shines at you from the centre of his lip and eyebrow. He’s dressed up in a plain, black T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants that had the words “FRESH LOVE” embroidered into the fabric. The Vivienne Westwood orb necklace hanging around his nape glistened that matched his diamond earrings.

The fashion statement he obtains makes you come to the realisation that it was Chris, your body piercer.

Suddenly his cold gaze wipes away once he gets a good look up and down at you, he curls his lips up into a friendly grin and inquires; “Hiya sweetheart. How can I help you today?” The low deepness of his voice makes you jump slightly.

“Hey Chris, I have an appointment booked for 12:30 to get my piercing done.” You reply trying to hide the trembling in your question from the painful mixture of excitement and nervousness.

Chris peers down at the nimble clipboard of names and dates. His slender index finger slides down the paper, he shoots his eyes back up at you for a split second giving you a smirk.

He looks back down to the clipboard and spots your name and taps his finger on it.

He turns his head back up at you with a toothy leer as he states “I always look forward to writing your name on my clipboard, y’know.” The stubble resting peacefully on the sharpness of his cheekbones spike up beautifully. He feeds his bottom lip into his mouth while he beams a smile at you and he grits on the metal ring with his enamels.

You say nothing because you’re too flustered to muster up consonants or vowels. A flush of cherry blossom pink pours over your face in embarrassment at his casual compliments and nicknames.

You’re too sheepish to admit it but you have a massive crush on your body piercer.

He gathers up a long piece of paper that looks like a waiver, he hands it to you as he states; “I need your signature here, as per usual I will be your body piercer for today. If you could be a doll and read the terms and conditions along with the do’s and don’ts that are listed above that would be great. You can follow me into the back once you’re done, sweetheart.”

He stares at you patiently with a light beam on his face while you swivel the pen around on the paper.

You plop the pen down on the hard wooden desk and hand the waiver back to Chris. “Perfect. Thank you sugar. If you could just follow me in here, please?” He makes a beckoning gesture with his hands, his eyebrow ring almost fully hidden under his hair.

“Okay”. You respond, giving him a smile as you walk over to him and make your way into a room behind the establishment you were just in.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

Moments later, you’re sitting peacefully on the flat bed. Admiring Chris while he slides on a pair of black latex gloves with his sterilised equipment laying still next to him.

Soon after, he pops open an alcohol pad and sets it down in the metal tray with needles and studs. He turns his body around to face you and he grabs the tray. He approaches you with the alcohol pad in his hand, his figure leaning into your face to wipe at the skin where you wanted your piercing to be.

Chris then acquires a sharp pointed pen and a long needle, he marks your face with a purple line.

“Go and look in the mirror and tell me if you’re happy or not with the position.” You get up on your feet and stroll over to the mirror and turn your face to where the mark sits.

“Mmm, can I have it more to the left please?” You ask him softly, while you stare at your reflection. “Of course, of course. Lemme get that off ya real quick”. You go over to the bed and sit back down in your original position.

Chris is laser focused on your face and he semi-consciously grips your chin so you look the right way and he can mark your face correctly.

This makes your heart almost explode out of you chest. You can feel yourself shiver but you try to refrain from it for you to stay stable under Chris’ touch.

He lets go of your chin and grins ear to ear at you again. “Happy now, sugar?”

You glance over at your reflection, you can clearly view where the mark is. “Yeah, that’s perfect. Thank you.”

“No problemo, sweetheart.” He utters while he positions the needle where the mark is.

“This will hurt..obviously, just take a few deep breaths for me. It will go in on three, one. two. three…”

Instantaneously, you feel a harsh, sharp pain. The needle slithers through your skin smoothly. You hiss at the sudden sting and your eyes start to water. You open your eyes to see Chris admiring you.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it sugar? You did so well for me.” He tugs on his lip ring with his teeth again, showing you how pearly and light ivory white they are.

“Hold on for another second, the jewellery is going in.” You feel another slight pinch, it wasn’t as bad as before yet you still flinched. But Chris’ reassurance made the soreness fade away seconds afterwards.

“Try not to touch it too much, clean it with salt water every day and night and avoid sleeping on it. Leave it in for 6 weeks before getting it replaced and you should be golden.”

You glance back at yourself in the mirror while tears are rolling down your cheeks from the pain earlier. Your face lights up as you see the new shard of stainless steel dug into your skin. “I love it! Thank you, Chris.” You exclaim at him with pure joy, giving him a big smile as you wipe the tears off of your face.

“No worries, sugar. Anything for my favourite customer.” That phrase makes your stomach tingly all the way down to in between your legs. You had to squeeze your thighs to secrete the euphoria Chris’ comments and sweet nothings made you feel.

“How much is this again? I’ll pay you in cash.” You query him. “Oh, you won’t need to pay me with money, sweetheart.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at this statement. You look up at him through your eyelashes for a few seconds with scepticism.

“What do you mean?” You mumble slowly at him while he gazes tenderly down at you.

“You can either pay me a different way, or you can walk out of here with a free piercing. This is sudden, I know that, sugar. But I’m not really feelin’ receiving money from my prettiest customer today.”

Your stomach churns and twists at Chris’ words. The butterflies are scrambling around inside you, to the point where the sensation spreads down to your core. Causing you to become slick with your juices beneath your clothes.

“I-I don’t get what point you’re trying to make, Chris..” You stutter and fumble on your words. Your veins are surging with tension and hesitancy.

“Jeez. Do I have to spell it out for ya, ma?” Ma? That’s a new one. Very similar to the other plain jane nicknames, and yet so different and fulfilling to hear.

Abruptly, Chris starts to inch towards you. You two are only centimetres away from each other, practically breathing on one another.

You feel your heart start to quicken and your breathing pattern to become heavy and irregular. Your heat starts to soak even more as you gawk and admire Chris’ lip piercing now wet with his spit.

“Don’t you have other customers after me..? I’m not sure if this is a good idea Chris..” You break eye contact with his blue rings and start to fidget and twiddle with your fingers.

“Do you not want to..? Shit, I’m sorry ma I didn’t mean to come onto you like that I was just really lookin’ forward to see ya today and I just thought y’would be okay with it like how you’re okay with me calling you sugar n’ stuff like that and-”

You gape at Chris, dumbfounded for a second. You start to hear his Boston accent the more he rambles on in embarrassment. “Chris it’s okay, trust me. I-I do want to… I’ve just never done something like this in a public place.”

His ears perk up and his central lip ring glints, his eyebrow piercing hidden under his locs.

You mentally scream at yourself saying: what the actual fuck is wrong with you?

“We can do whatever you want Chris, does this door have a lock?” You question him poking and prodding at the handle. “I wanna make sure we really, really have privacy.”

Your mind is zooming and sporadically muddling up millions of thoughts. You were asking yourself; Why aren’t you walking out? Why are you doing this for him? He said I could walk out with a free piercing.

“Yes, ma. It has a lock. Also before you ask, I have no other customers after you for today. Did you not notice the poster I put outside? I’m closing up earlier than usual today.”

You feel your face become hot and your body starts to sweat out of every crevice. The colour of your cheeks go scarlet when you realise he did all this for you. He planned all of this out, since the jump. Ever since you put the phone down on him once you booked the appointment.

“Chris..”

“I know, sweetheart. It’s very unexpected. Like I said, you can walk out with the piercing for free. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I’m not forcing you.”

Somehow, the tenseness in your body loosens. Your muscles stop clenching.

You rush to Chris’ face and pull his lips into yours. Your teeth almost clash into each other. Your puffy, red brims of your mouths intertwine together almost like tying a tight and rigid knot.

You then pull him away from him, both of you trying to catch your breath. Chris ogles at you with his mouth agape yet curved up into a slight smirk.

“What?” You ask. “Didn’t you want this? If you want me to pay you this way, then c’mere. I hope you don’t take cash or card, pretty boy.”

Chris hums in severe approval at your words. He then clasps at your waist and pulls you into another sloppy kiss. More wet and passionate than the one before.

Chris grovels his tongue in between your rows of teeth and you let out a surprised moan at this manoeuvre. Your tongues dance gracefully against each other.

You feel a freezing cold sensation on your lips. The taste of metal consuming your palette. You slowly open your eyes to gaze down at Chris’ mouth… Chris has a tongue piercing.

Your core drips in the slickness of your juice after this information was revealed to you. You no longer held back the temptation and tugged at his lip ring with your teeth.

A choked whine crawls out of Chris’ throat, the grasp on your lower body now tighter and more aggressive. His hot breath combines with yours and condenses the air above you. Making the atmosphere humid and thick. Harder to breathe under your utmost desperation.

“Fuck, Ma. I wanna feel my dick inside your mouth so bad after what my tongue got out of it.” He chuckled, gasping for a breath. Chris’ mouth circling these filthy words on the tip of his tongue to spit them back at you pulls at the tendons of your chest. Your folds become velvety and drenched, almost like his words are casting spells over you. Your mind goes foggy as you both are intoxicated by a horny haze of each other’s presence.

“C’mon then baby, get on the bed.”

“Yes, sugar.” Chris obliges obediently. He rushes to the bed with no delay.

You follow behind and lower yourself down until your full weight is rested on your knees. Focusing on Chris’ craving and horny scrutiny. You slowly part his legs and he lets out a long sigh, throwing his head back and breaking eye contact at your unexpected but swift touch.

“No baby, look at me. Let me see those pretty eyes.” Chris whimpers at your command and drops his head down to take in your eager stare.

You push the hem of his shirt further up his body, leaving his lower abdomen fully exposed as you tangle your fingers around his drawstring playfully.

Chris writhes with impatience while you teasingly remove every article of clothing on his lower half slowly. His chest slowly rises and falls in an irregular pattern. His prick aching to be set free from the enclosure of grey cloth.

You use your teeth to grip onto the material and loosen the knot in his drawstring, the very act of you doing this to Chris makes his dick twitch constantly.

You wrap your fingers around the waistband of his sweatpants to steadily pull them down. Chris lifts his hips up gently to allow you to pull them off briskly.

What once were his unseen Calvin Klein boxers, are now fully revealed. He kicks off his sweats for them to fall on the floor. Your manicured hands rub and slide leisurely across his hairy thighs. His happy trail carved out like a perfectly sculpted statue. Curved and slimmed in all the right places.

You then make your way to the throbbing bulge creating a tent in the jet black fabric. Your hands clasp at the tip making Chris jolt and his hips buckle up into your hand.

A quiet “F-fuck..” could be heard spilling out of his mouth. You hum at the pleasurable sight of him. Your body piercer who sticks needles in your skin for your money and satisfaction, has his dick in your hands.

You start to make your way down his shaft. Chris hisses and covers his mouth with his hand while the other grasps at the edge of the bed. Fully concealing his lip ring.

A slow up and down motion is created by your hands on Chris’ cock. His hips thrust upwards again, basically fucking your hand.

You swallow thickly with restlessness and take your hand off of his dick. It sits there pulsing a beat every now and then.

Chris groans dismally. “Please don’t stop mama, you were doing so well. It felt so good..” Chris spews out of his mouth mixed with his loud and rowdy moans. It’s very clear to you that he isn’t ashamed of how good you’re making him feel, so why should you?

You hastily rip off his boxers out of pure greed which makes his dick come sticking out immediately. Smacking his abdomen.

The lust in your eyes intensifies as you stare with your mouth wide open practically drooling and fawning over the thought of what he tastes like on your tongue. The shape. The colour. The size. Holy fuck he had the whole package. Just you imagining him slamming it inside your pussy made you grow carnal with desire.

The vein popping out the side fleshly. His dick practically begging to be sucked and licked at.

You pepper small kisses around his shaft. Chris heaves as his eyes roll into the back of his skull.

“That feel good, angel?” You ask him tantalisingly knowing damn fucking well the answer is yes.

Chris is completely unable to muster up sentences or even words to the point where he just mumbles an “Uh-huh” of approval.

You lick a long stripe up to his tip, making him squirm and whine underneath your touch.

On the spur of the moment, you feel two hands grip onto the back of your head as they force you down onto Chris’ cock. Your lips clench around the very base of his dick.

“Oh, fuck yes.” Chris exclaims. “Your mouth feels so fucking good… yeah take that fucking dick like a good girl.”

Your head bobs up and down on his length at a rapid pace. The tip of his cock grazing the back of your throat makes your eyes water again and your makeup comes running down your face.

“Yes, yes, yes. Oh, sweetheart.. I’m s-so close..” you feel Chris’ fast rhythm start to quiver and twitch uncontrollably. His hips locking into place as his cock sits inside your mouth balls deep.

“I-I’m gonna cum ma.. I’m g-gonna…” at that moment, Chris spews his white load into your mouth. It squirts out of his tip in long, thick ropes as it paints all over your mouth and on your tongue.

He pulls out immediately afterwards. You’re both trying to catch your breath. You feel Chris’ thumb graze against your lip. Your entire throat still coated in his seed. “Swallow.” He commands spitefully.

You close your mouth and gulp down Chris’ warm cum. You have trouble consuming it all in one go from the amount and how thick it was.

Soon after, you stick your tongue back out to show him that it was all gone. You took it all.

“Good girl.” Chris states smiling down at you, pulling his boxers back up. Moments later he reaches to the side counter to get tissues and a hot towel.

“No more money from you, from now on.” He declares.

“No more money.” You repeat, gazing up at him. Still on your knees.

“Good. Now let’s get you cleaned up, sugar.”

.・。.・゜✭・✫・゜・。.

Author’s note no.2: WHEW.. done and dusted. This was actually uber fun to write. Ofc i’ll be writing TONS AND TONS more for you all. I hope you had fun reading this and i’ll see you again soon!

༝༚༝༚, Maxine.

#chris sturniolo smut #smut #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut

1K notes · View notes

saerins · 1 year

Text

─── 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄

+ sae x f!reader | wc 5.3k

notes: i’m in love with this man, and wrote this on a whim :’) hope y’all like it !! feedback & reblogs are greatly appreciated !! <3

summary: you’ve known sae since you were both sixteen. he’s always dreamed of going overseas and facing the world, will he ever be ready to come home?

𝐒𝐈𝐗𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

sae can read almost everyone flawlessly, you included.

he’s not close to you, not at all. physically? yes, because you’re his seat partner. but in all other aspects? no, definitely not.

you’re scared of him, he can tell. whenever he moves, you get self-conscious, immediately pulling your own chair in, giving him way. then you check on him as he moves away, because you’re scared that somehow you’ve managed to offend him.

you never did. because to offend sae, you’d need to be someone who can even bother him in the first place.

sae doesn’t care about what you do though, he just happens to notice you. out of convenience, because he sees you every monday to friday and sits next to you for every class.

it’s the same routine thing every week—you sit next to each other, barely say a word all day and then before he knows it, it’s the end of school day.

it doesn’t even matter. you don’t matter.

nobody really does.

he peeks at you out of the corner of his eyes, your eyes peering down at your paper with the utmost concentration. he quickly looks away though, because the last thing he wants is to get caught and be labeled as a cheater on a history quiz. especially when he’s not cheating.

yeah, you really don’t matter.

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

soccer, soccer, soccer.

that’s all sae can think of nowadays. just do whatever he can to improve his skills, everything else is up for debate.

you’re still his seatmate, still ever so distant. he gives you credit though, for greeting him every morning now even though you look terrified and nervous all the time.

“good morning.”

today is no exception. sae’s eyes flick up to you and then back down to his desk, and that’s all of the acknowledgement you get, as usual. it’s nothing personal, he just doesn’t want to get into small talk at all.

but he’ll give you points for trying, even if he doesn’t exactly know what’s going through your head right now. somehow, he can’t read you as well anymore.

that’s how you usually are now, the newer version of you. a little more upbeat, a little friendlier, less awkward but still as shy as he first pegged you to be.

well, now you’re just slightly more amusing. somehow, sae starts to find himself wondering how you’d react to different situations.

it’s almost the middle of the school year and you’d kept up with your usual greetings everyday. sae keeps up with his usual stoic demeanour on his part.

until today.

“good morning!” you’re extra chirpy today, he notices.

sae blinks at you once, twice, and you’re still smiling at him, and he’d like to know whether you’re still that same nervous mess inside, so he opens his mouth this time.

“morning, y/n.”

simple, easy, basic courtesy.

but somehow you’re looking at him as though he’s a fucking freak.

to be fair, that’s exactly what he expected. but it’s now been a whole minute and you’re still staring dumbly at him.

“what?”

you shake your head, laughing sheepishly as you take your seat beside him, “nothing, it’s just… you never bothered talking to me before.”

sae shrugs, because it’s not like he bothers now, per se. he’s just—what’s the word—bored? “i can shut up too if you prefer that.”

“no!”

you look so embarrassed by your quick outburst that sae almost snickers. that’s the most reaction you’ve nearly managed to get out of him yet.

“i mean,” you stutter, looking for the right words to say, and maybe sae is getting a little bit of an ego boost right now because he can tell you’re flustered. “you’re pretty terrifying most of the time so…”

he knows what you mean, but he acts like he doesn’t. “oh, so you like terrifying? okay, i can do that.”

the way your face instantly switches to a straight expression is fucking amusing, and for a split second his guard falls and you get to hear him snicker.

luckily, the bell rings right after and mr hayato is never late. sae never got to hear what you thought of that.

every single day after that passes by a little bit easier, your non-friendship inching a little closer together, sae might even consider you an acquaintance now.

he converses with you a lot more fluidly (as much as he allows himself to—he doesn’t like you being too comfortable, likes to keep you on your toes), and he finds himself teaching you things he notices you’re absolutely horrible at.

like logarithms, because no matter how much you try to wrap your head around it, you refuse to ask anyone for help. you’re a little stubborn, but sae can live with that, just has to speak to you in a way that doesn’t seem like you look like you need help.

“no, you’re forgetting that the log of e is always one, there, see?” sae sighs as he explains, because you’re quite muddle-headed. “it’ll be much easier once you get all the definitions in your head.”

“were you born a genius or something?” you ask innocently upon catching his test scores. a 94 out of 100, compared to your 63.

that day, neither of you notice the fact that other people are beginning to notice your growing friendship.

sae starts tutoring you whenever he can, because apparently you’re hopeless without his help. (he says this to your face. he’s always straight with you.) and then he finds himself noticing you in ways he never did before.

how you look absolutely angelic when the sun hits your face. he notices the way you puff out your cheeks when you’re thinking hard. even the perfume that wafts through the air. you smell good.

this is ridiculous.

“hun, do you want any—”

fuck. sae’s head whips around to see an older woman at your door, almost a carbon copy of you, eyes wide as her gaze falls onto him.

no, he’s not particularly nervous or feels like he should be, but something tells you if your mother is anything like you, she’d misunderstand. this is just a lot more trouble than it’s worth. you’re a lot more trouble than it’s worth. what’s he even getting out of tutoring you?

“oh hi there! and who might you be?”

he can see stars in her eyes, all hopeful and excited as she shifts her gaze between you and sae and back to you again.

“mom! he’s no one—” ouch, he’s tutoring you and you introduce him as no one? “a friend and he’s tutoring me for some math stuff so could you…?”

it’s like the gears are turning in your mother’s head when she eyes sae knowingly. god, he has to do some damage control. don’t want either of you expecting anything much out of him.

“i’m itoshi sae,” he introduces himself, shaking her hand. “i just make time to tutor some of my classmates to earn extra credit.”

not even close to true, but neither of you need to know that. he’d much rather spend his free time getting in some training or going to the gym but he decided maybe he could spend a few hours out of today to help your dumbass with numbers.

he’s an expert at sidestepping small talk and in no time at all, your mother’s out of the room. you still seem embarrassed, he can feel the heat emanating from your cheeks.

“concentrate,” sae sighs, and he wonders why he’s even doing this for you. he’d rather go home right now, he thinks, maybe kick the ball around with rin, or just lie down in bed because waking up at 4am to train every morning is taking its toll.

you mumble a hushed apology and rub the sleepiness from your eyes. the both of you had been at this for a couple of hours now, maybe looking at numbers too much is making you tired too.

sae acknowledges you’re a fast learner though, if you have a proper teacher. he’s not surprised that ms kina’s teachings are lost on you—she’s not that good at explaining concepts. sae is, though. he usually doesn’t bother sharing but hey, maybe now is just a glitch in the matrix, maybe now he’s just trying to do good samaritan things and help you out so you don’t fail the damn midterm test.

“okay then, see you,” he says, picking up his bag and slinging it around his shoulders, only to have you grab his wrist. “what?”

you look a little bashful once you realise what you did, and then you let go of him immediately. you look like you really want to say something, but you don’t, you just shake your head.

don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it.

sae’s putting his bag back down before he knows it, and he groans internally. “say it.”

“if-if you don’t mind, maybe we could schedule a tutoring session every week?” you’re so, so timid and so, so soft.

he blinks once, twice, realising what you actually mean to say. you don’t want the tutoring session, apart from logarithms you’re fine with pure numbers, but you want time. with him.

it boosts his ego a little, if he’s being honest.

“i’m too busy with my soccer trainings,” he tells you, nonchalant until he sees how quick your expression falls and then he has to hate himself for continuing, “i have some time on friday evenings though.”

like a puppy, you’re instantly chirpy again, saying how maybe he could tutor you after he’s done with whatever stuff, and how you’d get a head start and grab some seats at a cafe or something.

you’re both seventeen when your weekly tutoring sessions start. it’s beyond himself why he agreed. all he knows is that he doesn’t particularly like being the reason your expression goes sad.

first week in, you’re still too nervous, too jumpy.

the second week, you’re a little too full of nonsense, daring to laugh at him, or with him, depending.

by the fifth week, your bare arm is already brushing his and you’re not even flinching.

you’re both seventeen when sae realises that maybe he cares for you. in the way lovers do. in the way he gets you to walk on the safer side of the sidewalk. in the way he sends you home every friday. in the way he actually responds to your goodnight texts and wakes up waiting for your good morning.

in the way he listens when you tell him that your mother is actually sick, that you want to take care of her. that your dream is simple—to find your passion one day, and to be able to earn enough to let your mother live peacefully, to help her fight whatever she has to because you don’t want her to be alone.

in the way, for the first time in his life, he reaches out to you, putting his hand on top of yours as he lets you cry on his shoulder.

your birthday falls on a friday this year, and he tells you not to bring your books that day in class. you look at him with pure shock, but then quickly adjust yourself and bring up a grateful smile.

“yes, sir.”

that night he meets you up on the rooftop of your complex, in the middle of the carpark, and you’ve never looked any happier than you did when you saw him holding that petite round galaxy cake in his hands, the sparkler candles so pretty in the night.

“happy birthday.”

𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

the next school year starts and sae enters into it still close to you as ever. you haven’t met in just over a month, what with sae’s intense training camps and your family holiday. but the both of you still talk to each other daily, and he finds himself waiting for your response every night.

it’s like the both of you are in a relationship, but neither of you are saying anything about it. whatever this relationship-non-relationship is, sae thinks he likes it.

but it’s barely three months into the school year and sae has to break your heart.

“it’s the opportunity of a lifetime, i’m sure you understand right?” his coach rambles on, disgusting with how he’s talking with his mouth full and chips keep falling out of it.

sae nods, because he does. he’s almost sure he’ll go for it. it’s not everyday kids from japan get offered a spot to play for a european club.

“great! so let’s get your parents involved and get you to spain.”

“yeah, sure.”

it’s frustrating how he’s not more excited. it’s there, but it’s faint, because it’s lingering on the traces of his feelings for you. he’s never really thought this far, and maybe that was his fault. he’ll keep that in mind; he can’t risk this situation again. he can’t risk getting your hopes up and being the reason that they’ll never recover.

minimise damage, yeah, that’s what he has to do.

you go from talking endlessly in class to being quiet because sae is trying to concentrate. you go from meeting every friday outside of school to every other friday, to once every month, to none at all. you go from texting a good morning and a goodnight every day to barely getting responses from sae, barely ever even get your messages read.

then one day sae just doesn’t show up to school at all. and you finally hear that he’s been scouted for a club in spain, that he’s going to be away for god knows how long. and then you realise that maybe that’s why he’s been distant lately, because you refuse to believe that the sae who took so much time out of his busy schedule for you, the sae who made the effort to buy you a birthday cake and spend all night on the carpark just listening to you talk on and on about insignificant things because you were nervous, the sae who you fell in love with—you refuse to believe it wasn’t real.

that’s why you hold your hopes up and ride your bicycle to his house, which you’ve been to once before, just outside though, because you’d asked him where he lived and he finally obliged. it’s still beautiful as ever, neat garden lined with flowers and a soccer field in the back.

when you knock on the gate, you see a familiar face come out; it’s itoshi rin, his younger brother. you only know that because sae’s spoken about him a few times, and you saw a picture of the both of them together on his phone.

“oh, um, hi, who are you?” rin asks, cautiously, because evidently, he’s never seen you.

“uh, i’m one of sae’s… classmates,” you decide, and it stings that you realise you can’t even say that anymore. how did it all spiral from cloud nine? “is he home?”

rin blinks a few times. his lower lashes are slightly longer than sae’s, he’s carrying a soccer ball, and you just know he’s been training all day because he’s sweating from head to toe. sae has said rin wanted to be a striker just like him.

“oh, didn’t you hear? my big bro got scouted, he left for spain last night.”

it shouldn’t be this upsetting—he isn’t even your boyfriend. no matter how much you wanted him to be. he was just… someone you studied with, spent time with, made efforts for.

but something forms in the pit of your stomach when you hear that sae’s already gone, that he’s already halfway to spain without even saying goodbye, without giving you any warning.

you’d thought whatever friendship you had with him was worth more than a silent goodbye, than a one-sided decision.

“o-oh, okay, thanks!”

you bolt off before rin can say anything else, it’s better that no one can see you crying anyway.

that night once you’ve sort of calmed down, you open up sae’s message thread, which as of late is mostly a string of messages from you and sae only replying with oh or i see or i’m busy.

the last time he even bothered replying to you was last week when you asked if he wanted to watch a movie together and he said a simple no.

“you’re an ass, itoshi sae,” you cry to yourself as you bring up the keyboard on your phone, your tears falling onto the screen.

i hate you, itoshi sae.

𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍

soccer is the same; thrilling, tiring, demanding.

it’s been a year since he left japan and he’s still surviving, still thriving, still being revered as a genius midfielder. sae knows he has what it takes to bring victory to a good enough team, that’s what he came here for anyway—to be the best in the world.

“good job out there, sae,” the captain claps him on the back, but sae’s mind isn’t there.

it’s been a year since he left japan and he still pulls up the last message you ever sent him.

i hate you, itoshi sae.

perhaps it’s good that you do. there’s no place for your dreams in spain, or anywhere else in the world except for japan. you need to move on from him. maybe you already did, from what he hears from his classmates who still check in on him from time to time.

the first time sae hears about how some other guy asked you out, he can’t say he doesn’t care. but he’s relinquished his right to be jealous, so he barely responds to the news.

but maybe he’s beginning to see where he fucked up, because he shouldn’t have gotten close to you in the first place, should’ve just left you alone.

instead now he’s left with this sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. is this how it feels like to really miss someone?

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘

you’re now in college and you’re past whatever happened in high school. itoshi sae still lingers in the crevices of your mind, with his teal eyes and his pretty lashes and the way his hand felt when they were on top of yours.

some part of you thinks you’d never get over him, but you have to make peace with that. just because he never bothered to give you closure doesn’t mean he should be allowed to ruin your life.

besides, you’re pretty sure he read what you last sent him. there’s really nothing else for you to do if he doesn’t even bother talking to you.

you’d been trying to properly move on anyway, and that’s exactly what you try to do later that night, after accepting ryusei shido’s invitation to dinner.

he’s like the opposite of sae, though. he’s all expressive and goofy and wild because he’s got you trespassing on private property just to borrow their garden and he likes to drive fast, really fast, because he loves the wind in his hair.

if you had met him first, you’d probably be in love with the rush he gives you, the adrenaline pumping through your veins. when he kissed you, if only you didn’t have itoshi sae in your head, then maybe you’d have kissed him back.

when you’re twenty, you find out that maybe you can’t move on without giving itoshi sae a piece of your mind.

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐎𝐍𝐄

sae’s career has been rapidly progressing, he’s part of the starting team and is hailed as one of the world’s up-and-coming top soccer stars.

the earlier game cemented it.

his team won, with the commentators naming him as the most valuable player, assisting in all the goals scored by his team.

when he’s pulled aside for an interview, he can’t help but wonder whether you’d be watching through the television, hanging on his every word. or maybe you’d already moved on with this shido guy he hears about.

fuck that shido guy.

and when an interviewer asks whether there’s anyone special in his life that motivates him, he finds himself wishing he could say your name.

“nothing of that sort.”

interviews pass by quickly, as they always do for him because he’s not much of an interview guy, with his stoic expressions and lacklustre responses. he’s on the way back to the locker room when he hears a familiar voice calling out to him.

“sae!”

he spins around to find his mother and father there, surprising him. they must’ve heard he was playing and booked a flight out. rin’s not here though.

“rin’s busy with some soccer matches of his own back at home,” his father explains, as if he read his mind. “he couldn’t make it, but he’s surely watching the match from home.”

how silly of sae to have wished that it was you calling out to him, for that split second. you’re still in his head, and that’s annoying.

“oh! sweetheart,” his mother coos after she’s done gushing over his game, “we ran into one of your friends earlier! what’s her name—ah wait there she is!”

sae furrows his brows, following his mother’s gaze and finds you there, hugging the walls, sheepishly waving your hand at him. he’s starting to doubt his vision, maybe you’re just his imagination, maybe his mother’s looking at someone else.

“hey, sae,” you greet him, mellow and polite.

he’s still standing there like he’s the one who’s starstruck, like you’re the famous one. are you really here?

“what are you doing here?”

not the best greeting, but that’s the most he can muster when he hasn’t seen or heard from you in over three years.

you smile, and he thinks he might melt, but he doesn’t because he’s just told—lied to—the world that there’s no one special to him.

“what’s wrong with supporting one of my friends?” you say, as though this is a neighbourhood soccer match and you didn’t have to fly halfway across the world for it.

“itoshi! get in here!” by the sound of his voice, it’s the captain talking. sae doesn’t even want to take his eyes off of you, but he has to.

“go,” you tell him, “i’m staying near the airport, if, uh, you wanted to do anything afterwards.”

does he?

sae swallows the lump in his throat and nods. “yeah, okay.”

that night, he figures out which hotel you’re staying at and pays you a visit—it annoys him how fast his heart is beating and how your sudden presence threatens to mess up his life.

he knocks on your door, and you open it, beaming at him when you see him. “i thought we were meeting at the restaurant,” you say as you let him in, closing the door behind him.

“i was just passing by, sent my parents to the airport and thought i would just drop by,” he answers, lying through his teeth. his parents are still somewhere in spain and he just wanted to see you sooner, that’s all.

“well, i’m still getting ready,” you tell him, straightening your dress and looking at yourself in the mirror.

how is it possible you keep getting prettier everyday? your hair’s a little longer now, and you look more mature, you’ve learned to do makeup, and your dress hugs your body in just the right places. he’s cursing himself for staring at you.

“i thought you’d be too busy to come out with me tonight, honestly,” you confess, putting on some lipstick.

sae has to look away, “and i thought you hated me.”

that has you stopping in your tracks; this conversation happened earlier than you expected, but you’d been gunning for this all the same.

“yeah, well you left japan without saying a word to me, like i was just anyone else.”

he understands why you’d think that. that was what he was going for anyway, and it reminds him what he should be doing instead of entertaining you right now. sae should be rejecting you, you and your efforts, should turn away from you like you’re another one of his fangirls.

“why?”

but the shakiness in your voice takes him off guard.

“why what?”

“why didn’t you say anything?”

“i didn’t have to,” sae responds, simply, like he doesn’t owe you a damn thing.

“was i imagining it?” you ask, finally turning around and looking him in his eyes.

no, no you weren’t.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“then why are you here, sae?” you burst out, and he stills in his position, feet glued to the floor. “you wouldn’t give a second thought to people you don’t care about, so what now?”

“i was just taking an old friend out to dinner, that’s all.”

he’s stubborn, so so stubborn. he’s hoping he’ll hold out.

“i don’t get you,” you mutter softly, to yourself or to him, he doesn’t even fucking know.

sae really shouldn’t, but he thinks about how he might never see you again and tries, “what do you want?”

“what are you talking about?”

“do you know what you want?” sae turns it around on you. “you flew halfway across the world to get here, for what? for me?”

he’s intimidating when he speaks a little louder than usual, and you shrink back just slightly.

“i-i wanted to talk to you,” you try your hardest to form an excuse but it’s not working.

“and what did you want out of that?”

you fall flat, and you feel like giving up. you know the answer, but you don’t want to admit it. you don’t want to tell him that you wanted him to want you too, you don’t want to admit that you’ve been thinking about him nearly all the time and what could’ve been.

“just forget it,” you relent, averting your gaze, but the next moment you feel an unfamiliar sensation on your lips, the taste of his on yours.

sae doesn’t know why he’s doing it, but his body moves on its own; something he got from playing that manages to bleed into his daily life, apparently.

you taste so much better than he expected, and you feel like you belong in his arms, like you’re made for him because there’s absolutely no one else in the whole fucking world who could ever bring itoshi sae to his knees.

he’s been in denial all this time, yes, and he’s tired of it. if you came all the way here, he’s not wasting it. he pulls away from you, absolutely dazed by the wanting look in your eyes.

you’re twenty one years old when you first hear itoshi sae telling you he loves you.

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐖𝐎

“someone’s chirpy,” your mother says from the couch, looking up from her ipad. “i sense… a date with sae.”

you roll your eyes, throwing one of the cushions at her. “mom, shut up,” you groan, still embarrassed whenever she calls you out for it.

sae’s still in spain most of the time, but the both of you make it work. you make a point to video call at least twice a week, and he responds to you like a normal boyfriend does. it’s back to that good morning, goodnight love you shared back in high school. he makes as much time as he can, and you appreciate him for it.

“i’m glad you’re happy, sweetie,” she tells you, and you smile gratefully.

you’re more than relieved now that she’s managed to fight the cancer off. it’s the only reason she pushed you to go see sae last year. you technically wouldn’t have done it without her.

a knock on your door signals that he’s here, and your mom gives you a knowing look before she excuses herself to her room.

when you open the front door, you feel a burst of excitement when you see sae there holding a bouquet of flowers.

“happy birthday, pretty.”

even when he’s busy, even when he’s swamped, he’ll never stop making you feel like you’re on top of the world.

both of you are twenty-two when sae decides that you’re his world.

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄

this is the year you find out long distance is actually really really hard.

sometimes sae loses the match, and sometimes he can’t separate friend from foe from you. he gets frustrated, and so you do too. he has less than kind words when he’s venting, and you happen to be on the receiving end.

sometimes you get stressed from your finals projects, and you push him away, and sae leaves you to it. sae doesn’t check up on you as much as you’d like to, and you’re a little too stubborn to tell him that you mind.

sometimes sae would get interviewed and would have to address dating rumours, whether it’s the upcoming supermodel from america or that renowned sexy sports photographer from brazil—it’s hard not to get jealous, especially when you’re kept private.

you can’t blame him for that, not when everyone likes to send hate to the pretty girl he’s supposedly dating.

this is also where you find out that itoshi sae knows you better than anyone. it’s where he always leaves you a reminder he loves you, even when you’re fighting. it’s where he sends you a goodnight text even when you’ve hung up the phone hours ago in anger. it’s where he keeps japan in his weather app just so he can tell you not to be a klutz and fall down when it’s raining. it’s where he declares on international television that no, he’s not available but that’s none of their business.

even if you yearn for him to be next to you at times, sae’s off doing what he’s always wanted to do, and you’re not going to let yourself be a burden—so you do what you want to do, because the last thing you want the headlines to blast is the fact that itoshi sae’s girlfriend is a good-for-nothing.

twenty-three is the age where you start writing articles for a local magazine company, where you take lead on fashion articles while occasionally helping with the sports section.

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

both of your careers are in full flight.

so is your relationship.

sae’s always proud of you, of your achievements, of your efforts even if they didn’t bear fruit. you’re doing so well, making yourself a name in Japan with your articles, with your wonderful insights and funny wit.

he always reads your articles, tells his assistant to get a subscription on the magazine and send it to sae’s hotel, always reads the articles you write. he doesn’t tell you about that though. doesn’t want you getting a big head.

and every time you talk on the phone about your articles and how hard it was to write or how you’re afraid people will take it the wrong way, he acts like he doesn’t even know which article you’re talking about. (he absolutely does.)

“hey, when’s my contract ending again?”

sae’s assistant looks up from his ipad from his seat across him on the private jet. he blinks twice before rifling through his different folders.

“oh, next year.”

a ghost of a smile appears on sae’s face and his assistant thinks he’s hallucinating.

“good.”

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄

sae is twenty-five years old when he finally decides he’s ready to come home.

it makes the headlines—how he quit the club and refused to play for them anymore, the reason being that he wants to go back to his roots.

back to you.

because now, at your front door, after he knocks once, twice, and you open it, surprised, sae’s never been more sure that he’s making the right decision.

after all, you’re the only one in the world capable of bringing itoshi sae to his knee.

“will you marry me?”

#bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #sae x you #sae x y/n #sae fluff #itoshi sae fluff #blue lock fluff #bllk fluff #bllk sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi #sae itoshi x you #sae itoshi x y/n #૪ aeri’s fics !

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drudyslut · 5 months

Text

— warnings: smut!! 18+ mean!rafe, degrading, edging, orgasm denial, fingering, face fucking, some slapping, hair pulling, unprotected sex (literally don’t do that), slight breeding kink, rafe is called daddy once, aaand lmk if i missed any!!

— note: helllloooo, i hope y’all enjoy this. i wrote this while watching obx and rafe being the unhinged king that he is!! 😮‍💨 it really helped set the anger in him. reblogs and feedback are VERY appreciated! love you all, mwah!

❥ i don't care who sees, princess- r.c

Getting involved with Rafe Cameron had to be at the top of your list of things you never imagined you’d do.

You’d been secretly been seeing the oldest Cameron child for a couple of months. It all started at a kegger, Rafe had seen you standing across the beach with your friends and was instantly drawn to you.

That’s where it all had started, and that’s also what had started the instant obsession Rafe had toward you, resulting in him losing his shit when he saw you talking to one of your best friends, John B.

“I just don’t fucking understand why you’re talking to him, am I not enough for you?” Rafe shouts, blocking your way out of his bedroom.

“Rafe! He’s been my best friend for years now! I don’t see the fucking problem, it’s not like we’re dating!”

Rafe chuckles darkly, taking a step toward you and wrapping his hand around your throat, an action that would normally be a turn on for you, but now, now it was just scary.

You give Rafe a look of warning, your hands clawing at his arm, trying to push him off of you.

“Rafe, let me go!” You shout, squirming underneath his grip.

Rafe releases his grip on your throat, stepping out of your way and letting you walk out of his room. You glance back, noting the look of anger on his face before you turned and sprinted down the spiral staircase and out of his front door.

That was a week ago, and ever since that day Rafe has been blowing your phone up, phone calls and text messages every single day for a week. You’d been letting all of the calls go to voicemail, reading and ignoring every text— texts that ranged from half hearted apologies to straight up anger.

You were currently laid in your bed, scrolling through Netflix, trying to find something to watch when the sound of a loud banging from your front door caught your attention.

Bang bang bang

You knit your brows in confusion, wondering who was beating on your door this early in the morning. You decide to ignore it, whoever it was would go away eventually.

But they didn’t. More pounding on your front door followed by the sound of Rafe’s angered voice booms through your house.

Bang bang bang

“Y/N, open this fucking door, I swear I’ll kick it down, don’t test me right now”

You quickly jump from your bed, grabbing your hoodie from the back of your desk chair and tossing it on before making your way down the small hallway and into your living room.

You inch toward the front door slowly, wondering what the fuck Rafe was doing at your house. The sound of his fists hitting on the door again make you jump.

You quickly unlock the door, swinging it open to find Rafe’s angry demeanor standing before you.

“Rafe what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Why have you been ignoring me?” He responds quickly, taking a step toward you resulting in you taking a step backward.

You peak your head past him, making sure none of your neighbors were awake before grabbing his arm and pulling him past the threshold and into your living room.

You quickly shut the door and lock it, turning on your heels to face Rafe. “Rafe, you can’t be here. People will see your truck and start talking”

He chuckles, taking a step toward you and wrapping his hand around your throat, pushing your back flush into the front door.

“I don’t care who sees, princess. Why have you been ignoring me?”

You bite at your bottom lip, the grip he had on your throat making your pussy ache for him. You look up at him with lust filled eyes, batting your lashes at him as you struggled to speak.

“I-I just needed t-time to th-think”

The corners of Rafe’s lips upturn into a smirk, his eyes turning dark as he watched the way his touch made you flustered.

“Is anyone home?”

“N-no. Why?” You ask, the ache between your legs growing, squeezing your thighs together to try and relieve the ache.

Rafe releases the grip on your throat, leaning his head down to your ear, his breath fanning over your skin as he whispered in your ear sending a shudder through your body. “Because i’m about to show you why it’s not a good idea to ignore me”

You open your mouth to speak but quickly shut it when Rafe harshly presses his lips against yours. He wraps his hands around your thighs, lifting you up effortlessly, his hands making purchase on your ass. You wrap your legs around his torso, hands flying to the back of his neck as your lips move fervently together. Rafe begins walking down the small hallway toward your bedroom, removing one hand from your ass to open the door and step inside. He kicks it shut behind him, walking toward your bed and tossing you down onto the mattress.

“Don’t ever. Ignore me again, alright?”

You nod your head slowly, watching as he pulls his white t-shirt over his head and tossing it onto your bedroom floor. You begin to salivate at the sight of his tanned, muscular body on display for you, always loving the sight of him.

Rafe climbs on top of you, his hands firmly planted on both sides of your body. “I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t walk. Gonna fuck you until you can’t even think straight, you’re gonna be so fucking drunk on my cock when I’m done with you, you’ll never ignore me again”

He presses his lips harshly against yours once more, slipping his tongue into your mouth as he runs a hand up your side, pushing your hoodie up and revealing your bare stomach.

He runs his hand up more, cupping one of your breasts tightly, fingers toying with your hardened nipple. You moan into his mouth as he pinches and tugs at your sensitive bud. Rafe smiles against your lips, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth and sucking at it softly.

“R-Rafe, please” You whimper, your hands running up the sides of his arms, fingernails digging into the flesh leaving half crescent marks on the skin.

He chuckles, lifting himself up on his hands and staring down at you. “Please what, baby? Use your words”

“Need to feel you, please. Need more”

Rafe grins, setting himself on his knees and tugging the fabric of your hoodie up and over your head. He swipes his tongue across his bottom lip, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight of your bare chest.

His hands fly to your tits, cupping them both in his large hands as he begins leaving sloppy, wet kisses all over your jaw and neck.

He moves his head down, pulling one of you nipples into his mouth and sucking, quickly switching to the other one and repeating his actions. He lets your nipple slip from his mouth with a pop, placing soft kisses on both of your breasts.

“Such pretty tits, and they’re all mine”

You squeeze your thighs together, the ache between your legs becoming more and more unbearable. You lift yourself up on your elbows, shifting onto your knees, hands flying to grasp Rafe’s hard cock through the fabric of his sweatpants.

“Needy, aren’t we princess?”

You nod your head, tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants. Rafe tsks, removing your hands from his waistband and pinning them onto the mattress.

“You’ve been such a brat this past week, ignoring me, treating me like i’m not good enough for you, so you’re not going to make a move, unless I say you can. Got it?”

You sigh. “Got it”

Rafe let’s out a deep breath, shaking his head. “Got it? No no sweetheart, you know what you’re supposed to say to me. Say it”

“Y-Yes, daddy. I-I won’t make a move, unless you say so”

“That’s my good girl”

Rafe hooks his fingers into the waistband of your lace panties, sliding them down your legs. You shudder as the tips of his fingers run down your legs slowly.

You gasp when he runs his thick fingers through your slick folds, gathering your arousal on his fingers. He slips his index finger inside your soaked cunt, pushing it in and out slowly, his thumb pressing firmly against your clit, rubbing slow and gentle circles around it.

“Such a pretty pussy, love how wet she gets, just for me”

You let out a whimper, bucking your hips forward.

“Rafe, please. Faster”

Rafe grins, slipping another finger inside you. He picks up the pace of his fingers, harshly thrusting them in and out of you, loud moans falling from your lips when he curves them slightly, hitting your g-spot repeatedly.

You grind your hips against his hand, tears flowing down your face as his thumb continued rubbing sloppy circles around your sensitive bundle of nerves, his fingers continuing to work your soaked cunt.

You feel the coil tightening in your belly, your inner walls clenching uncontrollably around his fingers as your orgasm threatening to burst out of you.

“R-Rafe, s’close, oh my God, s’fucking close” you mewl, throwing your head back into your pillows, eyes squeezed shut as you harshly gripped at your bed sheets.

Rafe quickly pulls his fingers from you, making you groan from the empty feeling, pissed off that he had stopped right as you were about to cum.

“Rafe what the fuck?!” You shout, propping yourself up on your elbows and staring at him, a smug grin plastered on his lips.

“Brats like you don’t get to cum, not that easily at least”

You open your mouth to speak, but Rafe’s fingers being shoved down your throat cut you off. You gag around his fingers, tears brimming at your eyes again as he shoves them further down your throat.

“Taste yourself baby, so fucking sweet. Maybe if you listen, I’ll let you cum when I fuck you”

You inhale through your nose, submitting to him and sucking lightly on his fingers. You swirl your tongue around his thick digits, lapping up every drop of your arousal from his fingers.

You watch in awe as Rafe throws his head back, enjoying the feel of your mouth wrapped around his fingers. “Such a good fucking girl, fuck. I love how fucking easy it is to make you submit”

He pulls his fingers from your mouth, hands quickly pushing his sweatpants down his legs, leaving him in nothing but his boxers.

Your hands fly to grasp his hard cock through the flimsy fabric, stroking his length softly, a low, throaty groan falling from his lips.

“Fuck, what did I say? No fucking touching. You don’t— shit — you don’t make a fucking move unless I say so. Now. I have to punish you, baby”

Rafe wraps his hand around your throat, pulling you up and sitting you on your knees. He places a sloppy kiss to your lips, his free hand shoving his boxers down his legs and tossing them onto your floor. He tightens the grip on your throat, spitting into his free hand and stroking his cock.

“Suck”

You look up at him, hesitantly leaning forward and wrapping your lips around him. He releases the grip on your throat, wrapping his fingers in your hair and shoving himself fully into your mouth, the swollen head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you gag around him.

You hollow your cheeks, bobbing your head up and down his length at a quick pace. Drool runs down the sides of your mouth, his fingers digging into your scalp as tears blurred your vision.

Rafe grips at your hair tighter, pulling you off of him harshly, getting off of your bed, standing at the side and turning your body. He positions himself with your mouth again, thrusting into your mouth again. You place both hands on his thighs, steadying yourself as he pounds himself into your throat.

You’re a drooling, gagging mess. Rafe’s brutal thrusts pick up in speed, making you gag uncontrollably around him. You feel his thrusts grow sloppy, his hips stuttering as he chases his high.

You feel his dick twitch in your mouth, a string of curse words falling from his lips as hot, white ropes of his cum fill your mouth. He holds your face against his pelvis, filling your mouth with his seed before pulling you off of him.

You swallow his load, licking your lips and wiping the drool from your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Fuck. I always love abusing that pretty little throat of yours, baby”

You smile, swiping your tongue across your bottom lip as you try and steady your breathing.

Rafe climbs back onto the bed, pushing you back onto the mattress and pressing his lips to yours. He groans when he slips his tongue in your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue.

He grasps his cock between his hands, sliding it between your slick folds, wetting the head of his cock before he harshly thrusts himself inside you.

You gasp when you feel the head of his cock hit your sweet spot. “Fuuuuck, Rafe, feels so good”

Rafe pulls himself out of you slowly before he sinks himself back in. He begins pounding his hips into yours, his hands tightly gripping at your thighs as he pushes himself in and out of your soaked pussy at a brutal pace.

“So fucking wet, so tight. Tell me that you only get this fucking wet for me!”

“O-Only f- shit! Only for y-you, Rafe!”

Rafe smirks, jutting his tongue out of his mouth as he focuses on his thrusts. The squelching sound of your pussy fills the room, Rafe’s balls smacking at your ass with every push and pull of his hips pushing your closer to your release.

“R-Rafe! S’fucking close! Fuck fuck fuck, p-please!”

Rafe snakes his hand between your legs, pressing his fingers firmly against your clit, rubbing sloppy circles around it.

“Don’t you dare cum, not until I say you can”

A loud moan falls from your lips, biting down harshly on your bottom lip as you try and stave off your orgasm, not wanting to upset Rafe anymore than you already had.

“You’ve been such a fucking brat lately, thinking you can just fucking ignore me for a week, then thinking you’re just gonna get to cum whenever you want? Stupid little whores like you, don’t get their way”

Rafe cups one of your tits with his free hand, toying with your nipple as he continues his sloppy circles on your clit. He smacks your tit harshly, pulling a whine from your lips from the sting you felt.

“Rafe! P-please!”

Rafe chuckles, a dark look in his eyes as he continues pushing himself roughly inside you. You feel your walls clenching around him, squeezing around his cock like a vice. You were unsure how much longer you could hold off your orgasm, the coil in your belly burning brightly.

“Shut up. Don’t cum” Rafe shouts, landing a harsh smack to your cheek.

You feel his thrusts growing sloppier as he chases his own high, his cock repeatedly hitting at your g-spot. Tears blur your vision as you hold your cheek, trying to soothe the sting from his slap.

“Gonna fill this pussy up, gonna breed you so no other guy on this island wants to fucking touch you” Rafe grunts out, pushing himself into a few more times before he stills inside you.

You feel the warmth of his cum filling you, Rafe slowly and sensually thrusting inside you a few more times before he pulls himself from you.

You whine as Rafe pulls himself off of you, standing from your bed and pulling his boxers up his legs.

“Really, Rafe? I didn’t even get to finish once! What the fuck?”

He takes one long stride toward you, using his fingers to gather his cum, pushing it back inside you. “I told you. Brats like you don’t get to cum. But don’t worry baby, you’re coming home with me, maybe I’ll let you cum sometime today”

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futureman · 9 months

Text

switching the positions

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: a collection of micro-fics chronicling the days of a very eventful week in the lives of you and joel miller (inspired by ariana grande's positions)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, pre-outbreak, established relationship, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, unprotected piv, rough sex, oral (f&m receiving), 69ing, mutual/guided masturbation, edging, mild exhibitionism, consensual somnophilia, squirting, rimming, unplanned pregnancy, pregnancy kink, pregnant sex, panic attacks, mentions of parents, mentions of food

word count: 16.2k

moodboard by my sweet girl @cavillscurls ♡

a/n: whew, my pride and joy, a whole two months in the making. tysm to everyone who voted on the poll, and especially to @dinsdjrn for helping me tie this whole thing together and mya for listening to me yell about this for weeks. as always, thoughts and feedback are always appreciated!

SUNDAY

"Boy, I'm tryna meet your mama on a Sunday."

“She’s gonna hate me.”

“She’s not gonna hate you.”

Oh, you know this woman is going to hate you. It’s not that parents don’t like you. On the contrary, you actually get along great with people’s parents. Your friends’, your old roommate’s, your coworkers'—hell, even your own. It’s just that moms, specifically, can smell fear, and Joel’s mom is going to smell the terror wafting off of you from a mile away.

Not that it’s personal or anything. You’re pretty sure she’d hate anyone dating her baby boy. It’s like, a boy-mom thing. Still doesn’t make you feel any better about your boyfriend’s mom potentially hating you.

“Whose idea was this dinner again?” Because if it was Joel’s, then he can still reschedule or fake an illness or, better yet, call the whole thing off.

“Baby, you know it was hers,” he replies from his spot at the edge of the bed, where he’s been watching you pace the room and throw half the closet on the floor for the past hour. You shoot him an exasperated look.

“But did you have to say yes? Isn’t it kind of early for me to be meeting your mom anyway?”

He looks at you like you have ten heads, but you ignore him, debating two shirts in the mirror, then deciding they’re both terrible and adding them to the pile on the floor.

“It’s been a year and a half. If we wait any longer, she’ll be meetin’ you at the weddin’,” he sighs, running his hands frustratedly down his face. You pause your closet tornado to stare at him, wide-eyed, and he rolls his eyes. “I’m just sayin’, I think it’d be good for y’all to meet, is all.”

Good for who? Certainly not you. Honestly, this dinner could have serious repercussions for your relationship. It’s entirely possible she could convince him to break up with you after the night’s over. Or that you’re a bad role model and shouldn’t be allowed around Sarah anymore. Your stomach lurches violently at the thought. Then, it hits you—

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair enough—but have we thought about who’s gonna watch Sarah tonight? We can’t just leave her by herself, and I’m sure your mom would totally understand that,” you try to reason but, again, Joel’s not going for it.

“She’s 14 years old, I think she can handle a couple hours alone,” he deadpans. “Baby, c’mon, it’s not gonna be that bad. Please? Is it really too much to ask for the woman I love to meet my momma?”

You soften at that. Logically, you know he’s right and it’s not fair for you to keep giving him such a hard time. You’re also pre-judging someone really special to him, and now you feel like the shittiest girlfriend in the world.

“You’re right. I know you’re right—I’m sorry,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around yourself. You’re not sure why you’re feeling so insecure about all this. “I just want her to like me, you know?”

He nods, lips quirking into a small smile, and pats his lap. You fall into his arms and he rocks you for a moment, kissing your hair, then your cheek. The anxiety’s starting to subside and you’re grateful for him, your sweet boyfriend who never asks you for anything. Your eyes meet his, and he leans in to kiss you softly, deeply, then pulls away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“I know ya do,” he murmurs, rubbing soothing circles into your thigh. “And she will, alright? Just give her a chance like she’s givin’ you one.”

So, for Joel, you do. Turns out his mom is lovely and wonderful, just like her son, and now you have a lot to make up for.

MONDAY

"Then make a lotta love on a Monday."

It’s early and yet, somehow, you’re already awake and feeling like it’s going to be a good day. There’s no alarm clocks blaring, no feet stomping up and down the stairs. Just sweet, blissful sunlight, and it feels so good this morning. Warm and wet and, god, right there—please, keep going right there.

You reach out to feel its light against your hands and between your fingers, and it hums, sending sweet vibrations up your arms, all the way down to your thighs. Heat starts to bloom in your belly as the sun rises higher, burning hotter and hotter, and your fingers tense, tugging at its soft rays.

Everything feels so much wetter now, and there’s no way you’re not sweating right through your shirt and into the sheets. Even your underwear is soaked, your cunt pleasurably slick and dripping as you pant softly into your pillow.

Then, all of it suddenly intensifies and you’re enveloped by a wet, dextrous warmth that circles and circles, dipping into you, fucking into you, and suddenly, you’re so, so close—

And then you’re cumming with a loud sob, hips bucking with every spasm until something broad and strong splays across your stomach and pushes you back down into the sheets.

It's…you realize it’s Joel. Balmy and beautiful like the morning sun. He groans as you gush into his mouth, lapping up everything you give him, and you’re vaguely aware of the bed shifting under you as he grinds his hips into the mattress for relief.

“…B-baby? What—what’s going on…,” you slur sleepily, hands tugging harder at his hair as he continues to suckle your clit through the aftershocks. You whine at the oversensitivity, and he pulls off to press one last kiss to your heat before throwing the sheets off behind his head.

His eyes meet yours and, fuck, he looks wrecked. His hair is in complete disarray and his eyes are a little wild…and then there’s the giant tent in his boxers and that delicious wet spot that makes your mouth water. He doesn’t respond—just crawls up your body to crash his lips against yours, licking into your mouth, and all you can taste is yourself when his tongue brushes against yours.

You moan into his mouth as he grinds into your sensitive core, then parts from your lips just long enough to pull your sweat-soaked shirt up and over your head. The cool morning air feels like heaven against your feverish skin and, with the sheets gone, you can feel a cool breeze coming through the open window, amplified by the oscillating fan next to the bed.

Christ, he must be so pent up by now. Your brain is finally starting to clear from its post-sleep fog, and now you’re wondering how long he’s been between your legs, eating you out like you’re the heartiest breakfast he’s ever had in his life.

But that train of thought is quickly derailed when his lips find a new home around your nipple, sucking it into his mouth and circling his tongue around the nub until it hardens. The delicate skin feels especially tender, and you whimper quietly as the roughness of his beard scrapes against you. Your fingers thread back into his hair and you tug, urging him back up so you can feel his mouth on yours again.

“Joel, fuck me,” you murmur against his lips, and his breath hitches. “Wanna feel you—please.”

The sensitivity must’ve already subsided because your hips are steadily meeting his and you’re feeling so desperate to have him inside you. His cock feels heavy as he rubs himself against your slick cunt and, while the fabric provides the most incredible friction when it grazes your clit, you want him bare immediately.

“Now…ngh—now,” you whine, and you’re stunned he still has the patience to tease when he pulls away slightly to smirk down at you.

“Needy girl this morning, ain’t ya?” His voice is thick with sleep and so much desire, and it makes your still locked-down pussy clench painfully. “S’alright, baby, ‘m gonna give it to ya.”

Wrenching his boxers down, he grips under your legs to push both of your knees to your chest before nudging the blunt head of his cock against your entrance. He inches in just the tip and immediately lets out a whoosh of air.

“So fuckin’ tight, Jesus Christ,” he grits through his teeth, working himself in and out of you until he’s buried to the hilt, the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushing against you just right. He lingers for a brief moment, grinding into you deeply, languidly while you adjust to his girth.

"S'good. Feels good," you murmur, sighing contently. He's brushing that spot he can only reach when he fucks you like this, so you lock your ankles behind his back, silently telling him to stay. But it feels a little selfish, and you can feel how much he's holding back.

"Baby...I gotta move," he pants, trembling with the effort it's taking not to lengthen his thrusts. Pulling out slowly, he presses back into you deep enough to nudge that spot again, and your vision goes hazy. "Promise, I'll take care of ya—"

You moan in unison as you flutter around him, and he takes that as the go-ahead to continue, his cock reappearing wetter and shinier after every stroke. His skin is glistening, too, slick with sweat that runs down his temples and pools where your bodies connect.

The heat of him is addictive and it's everywhere—blooming in your chest, blazing between your legs, and igniting something fathomless inside you. But somehow, it's still not hot enough. You know he can give you more, your blindingly beautiful sun.

Wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders, you squeeze your thighs into his sides to pull him flush against your body, and you can feel his heartbeat pounding through his chest. The steady rhythm matches his thrusts perfectly, but he's groaning so sweetly in your ear that you have a feeling it won't for long.

You belatedly realize how hard you're clenching around him, suddenly so close to tumbling over the edge for the second time this morning, and he redoubles his efforts to follow you.

"L-like that, keep going just like that," you encourage between sharp exhales. "That—that's it."

He braces a hand next to your head on the pillow to stabilize himself, and you wrap your fingers around his wrist, grounding yourself to him. His eyes meet yours fondly before he buries his face into the crook of your neck to do the same, panting heavily against your skin.

Soft, brown curls tickle your cheek, and you turn your head to nose into his hair, breathing him in. He smells earthy like freshly-mown grass and sawdust, and it fills your lungs, surrounding you just when you need it the most.

You gasp in his air, hips swiveling into his desperately as you chase your release. He's slamming directly into that spot now, pushing your knees back into your chest to reach even deeper, but his thighs are starting to tense.

"'m not gonna last long," he admits breathily, all but folding you in half so he can brush his lips against yours. "S'too good...gonna make me cum so hard."

"Please...please, please." Fuck, you want to feel it. To feel him pulsing inside you, filling you up so good, so much. "Joel, cum—please cum."

So close, you're so close. Your soft sighs have evolved into something louder and higher-pitched. Too loud for this early in the morning, and enough to wake up the entire house if you're not careful.

Joel seals his mouth over yours, swallowing every noise that escapes your lips as he pounds into you with purpose, dragging against your walls, and it's...fuck, you're—

Gushing, sobbing as you cum, and he groans, long and drawn out, immediately following you over the edge. Releasing your legs, he digs his fingers into your hips to hold you in place, keeping his cock buried deep inside you as you milk him dry.

"Fuck me," he exhales shakily, pumping into you twice before pulling out and collapsing on top of you. "Good fuckin' morning."

A breathy laugh bubbles out of your chest, but you immediately cringe at the feeling of his cum leaking out of you and onto the sheets. You wedge a hand between your bodies, reaching down to swipe your thumb between your folds and procure a glob that you suck wetly into your mouth.

"Very good fuckin' morning," you smile cheekily at the look of awe on his face. He shakes his head, chuckling as he wraps you up in his arms and rolls you over onto your sides. His chest expands into you with a massive yawn, and you're helpless but to mirror him.

"How much time we got until the alarm?" he mutters sleepily, sounding like he could pass out at any moment. You're craning your head back to check when—

The damn thing starts blaring before you can even catch a glimpse of the time. Not that you need to now—it's 6 a.m., your mortal enemy. You glare at the clock like it personally offended you, and Joel only chuckles, pulling you back down with him.

"Snooze it," he murmurs, mouthing damply at your neck, his hands exploring your soft, bare skin. "We still got time."

You barely hear him, already lost in the feeling of his fingers skimming up your sides, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts. He leans over you to hit the button himself before returning to you, kissing you like you've both got all the time in the world.

Neither of you makes it to work on time.

TUESDAY

"Cookin' in the kitchen, and I'm in the bedroom."

The oven is broken. Probably. The stove, too. It’s really not your fault—all you did was turn some knobs and stand there, but for some reason, none of the burners are catching and the oven sure isn’t cooking this chicken like it’s supposed to.

You don't even like chicken but, for some ungodly reason, you've had a wicked craving for it lately. And Joel loves it, so. That explains why you’re in the kitchen, getting side-eyed by a very skeptical 14 year old, trying to cook a nice dinner for her very overworked father. It’s not going well.

“Did you hear it click when you tried turning it on?” Sarah asks patiently, and now it’s your turn to look skeptical.

“Uhh, the knob or the stove?” You eye the appliance dubiously like it’s doing whatever it’s doing on purpose. She laughs pointing to one of the burners.

“So, when you twist the knob, gas comes out of here,” she taps the grating around the burner, “and the clicking creates a spark that ignites the gas so it lights. Then, voila, you’ve got a working stove.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly, looking back and forth between her and the stove until she finally gets the hint.

“Fine, fine. I can do it,” she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. And of course, the stupid thing works with zero issues when she does it. You give her a grateful smile before throwing the dirtiest glare you can muster at the oven.

“What do we do about that one? I guess I could try cooking the whole chicken in a big pan, but I can’t guarantee we won’t all die from food poisoning…,” you trail off, starting to feel a little useless.

It’s not like you’re completely inept in the kitchen. You can use a toaster or a microwave like a damn pro, and even the blender if you’re feeling especially adventurous, but you’ve never made a big meal like this before. Sarah likes to cook when you’re not ordering out, which admittedly is most of the time, so this was supposed to be something special for her, too.

“It’s the same general concept,” she says, still kind and patient as ever, squatting down to show you a different set of knobs. You observe her for a moment, missing the start of her explanation, because it’s times like these where you can see so much of Joel in her.

It’s that spark in her eyes when she gets to share bits of her well-earned knowledge. To use her expertise to teach someone something brand new. Joel gets the same look when he’s trying to teach you guitar. His eyes shine when you finally get a chord down, and he downright beams when you can finish an entire bar by yourself.

You must’ve zoned out for too long because she’s suddenly waving a hand in front of your face, smiling her dad’s sweet smile as she waits for your focus to return to the task at hand.

“Shit, I’m sorry. What did I miss?” you ask sheepishly. She nods to the oven, already lit and heating up to the required 400 degrees Fahrenheit for cooking baked chicken.

“All good! It’s set for whenever you’ve got the food prepped. You just have to wait for it to hit temperature—it’ll beep when it’s ready,” she says, walking around the kitchen island to grab her backpack.

…Wait. She’s leaving?

“Woah, wait, where are you going? You can’t leave yet,” you plead, still desperate for her help. “What if I burn the house down?”

“You’re not gonna burn down the house,” she snorts, already at the door tugging on her sneakers. “Just remember to turn off the burners and you’ll be fine. And save me some food!… Unless everyone gets sick, then maybe don’t.”

You shoot her a look of absolute betrayal, and she laughs, opening the front door and waving over her shoulder.

“See ya later! Good luck, I believe in you!”

And then she’s gone, and you’re left alone with your misery and a bunch of random ingredients you still have to magically make into a meal.

You slump against the counter, lamenting the loss of your sous chef until the oven beeps, scaring the shit out of you. Oh, great. You’ve barely even started seasoning the chicken. It can’t be that hard, right?

Twenty minutes later, you’re standing in front of a very peppery-looking raw chicken—which is officially disgusting again, you changed your mind—wishing you had just ordered Boston Market and lied about making it yourself. Lesson learned for next time. Like there’ll be a next time.

Well, at least no one can say you didn’t try. You throw a bunch of mixed vegetables into the bottom of the pan like the recipe says and pop it in the oven, setting the timer for 40 minutes and hoping for the best.

Glancing at the clock above the sink, you realize you’re cutting it close on time. You told Joel to be home by eight, which means he’ll probably actually get here at nine, and it’s already 7:30. Yikes. Time flies when you’re trying not to fuck up a dinner that was doomed from the start.

The last piece of the puzzle is thankfully the easiest. Now, mashed potatoes are definitely something you can make. Boiling water? Piece of cake. Pouring in the instant flakes from the box and adding butter? Done and done.

There’s no way anyone’ll be able to tell you didn’t make them from scratch unless they check the trash and, anyways, the instant stuff is better. You’ll go down with that ship.

Now for the pièce de résistance: the perfect evening attire. A cute, 50s-era apron you thrifted two weeks ago that’ll go over the teeny, tiny Victoria’s Secret lingerie set you’ve been hiding in the back of the closet.

Joel will probably think it’s hilarious, once he stops drooling. Hopefully you’ll even make it to dinner, otherwise, the stress of this entire afternoon was a totally moot point. But he’ll have to be a good boy and finish his food before he can have dessert—apple pie you definitely didn’t make, and you laid out on his bed like the best fucking treat he’ll ever taste.

You end up with enough time to take the chicken and veggies out of the oven—the meat thermometer tells you it’s cooked through and that’s good enough for you—and stir up the mashed potatoes before you have to head upstairs to get everything else ready. So far, surprisingly, so good.

You’re in the middle of patting yourself on the back for a job well-done, with time to spare, when you hear the front door open. At eight fucking thirty. This would be the one day Joel gets home early and, by the sounds of dishware and cutlery clinking around downstairs, he’s already discovered your big surprise.

“Baby, you up there?” he calls up the stairs. “What’s all this?”

Well. Guess it’s showtime. You finish tying the apron around your waist before giving yourself one last once over in the mirror. Everything fits perfectly, just like you knew it would, and the food’s done, for better or worse. So there’s no need to be nervous, right? It’s just Joel. Your Joel. He’d love it no matter what, even if it all ends up being total shit.

Taking a steadying breath, you head down the stairs, letting your appearance serve as his answer. The apron rubs scratchily against your skin, a reminder of how naked you actually are underneath, and you let your confidence in Joel’s inevitably wanton reaction make you brave.

And he doesn’t disappoint. His eyes rove over you greedily, from the pout of your lips to the tiniest slip of your nipple peeking over your bra, all the way down to the soft, bare skin of your legs. Yeah, no need to be nervous at all.

“Just a little surprise I cooked up,” you smirk a little deviously as you reach the bottom of the stairs. He’s on you in a second, hands exploring your body eagerly, impatiently, as he leans in to kiss you, but he’s halted by a finger to his lips. “Uh-uh. Can’t have dessert yet. There’s a whole meal waiting for you—I made your favorite.”

He chuckles, gingerly pressing a kiss to your finger instead before leading you backward into the kitchen.

“Well, let’s get started then. I’m starvin’,” he says, looking hungrier than you’ve ever seen him. You return his gaze, suddenly feeling ravenous yourself.

“Good. It’s dinner time.”

WEDNESDAY

"Wrist icicle, ride dick bicycle."

Spin class sucks.

There’s really no need for the music to be this loud. And it’s bad. They say it’s supposed to amp you up for rigorous exercise, but it’s just giving you a headache.

It’s also about a thousand degrees in here, and you’d be leaving a massive pool of sweat on this seat if you were even allowed to sit on it. The whole concept of spinning makes no sense, and you’re starting to think it’s actually just a dance class on stationary bikes because no one in their right mind would ever ride a bicycle like this.

It’s embarrassing, for starters, and you’re surrounded by hot people that are way better at it than you are. You didn’t even know you could gyrate on a fucking bike until today, and they all somehow make it look sexy. Like they’re legitimately having a great time. Having fun.

But not you. The music might honestly be doing you a favor by drowning out your pathetic attempts to breathe. You’re starting to get a little lightheaded and feel like you’re about to be sick.

No workout is worth this. You can’t even pretend to follow the instructor’s directions, because you can barely hear her over the speakers. She probably can't even hear herself, yelling into the void of shitty EDM remixes, and expecting everyone to pick it up. If you’d known this was just some fucked up version of leg day, you would’ve skipped it.

There's no sneaking out early, either. You took the bus and Joel won’t be here to pick you up for at least another half hour. Honestly, you'd rather walk home and let that be your exercise for the day, but unless you plan on jogging along the highway, you're shit out of luck.

The beat abruptly picks back up, startling you out of your personal pity party, and then everyone's asses are in the air again, hips swiveling so perfectly in sync that it has to be choreographed. You're getting the hang of it now that you're realizing the routine just repeats itself, but it still feels mildly exploitative.

It doesn't help that your class is starting to draw in a crowd, likely attracted by all of the revealing athletic wear on display. At least you got that memo. Whoever had the bright idea to put a huge glass wall at the back of the room was either a genius or a pervert. Probably both, depending on who you ask.

Once the hardest section of the choreography passes, you look behind you to check the time, praying more than you think has passed, but you're sorely disappointed. And the crowd outside's only gotten bigger.

Don't these assholes have anything better to do than stand there drooling over a spin class? You continue to glare at them over your shoulder through the next part of the song, looking a little ridiculous grinding into your seat as you silently tell them all off.

Out of the corner of your eye, you catch one of them off to the side laughing, but when you turn to send an even harsher look in their direction, you realize you recognize him.

What a dick. If you'd known he was going to be this early, you definitely would've snuck out and waited outside instead of becoming another piece of eye candy for a bunch of gym rats.

Joel looks a little too pleased with himself, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed like he’s enjoying the view as much as the rest of those creeps. Well, if he wants a show, then you’ll give him one. Now that you’ve gotten the movements down, you can put all of your energy into making him wish there wasn’t an entire glass wall separating him from you.

That one, grueling section of the song loops back around, and this time you put your all into it, arching like you’re supposed to, swiveling your hips into the seat with all of the muscle control you’ve got. Your shorts ride up your ass at the change in movement, probably giving you a wicked camel toe, but you let them. You can only imagine the look on Joel’s face now.

The song starts to wind down, finally coming to a stop, and you lower yourself back onto the seat, panting with the exertion of the past 45 minutes. Turning back around, you notice the crowd has mostly dispersed, save for a few stragglers and Joel, who’s panting almost as hard as you are.

Your eyes drop to his pants, and you quirk an eyebrow. His breathing’s not the only thing that’s hard. He looks a little wrecked and, suddenly, this whole workout thing feels like it might’ve been worth it after all.

You hop off the bike and retrieve your duffel from the back of the room, teasingly flicking the glass in front of his face before exiting with the rest of the class.

"Ready to go?" you ask brightly, still feeling high off the endorphin rush. He doesn't respond, looking a little dazed as he watches a droplet of sweat run down your neck, past your collarbone, and right between your breasts. "You doing alright there, bud?"

You laugh, enjoying your revenge a little too much, reveling in the way his jaw tenses and the muscles in his neck twitch angrily. It’s about to be a very interesting ride home—or it would’ve been if you’d made it that far.

On the way out, you pass an out-of-order men’s room, and he yanks you inside, locking the door behind you.

It's a little surprising he's this pent up after the night you had, especially with the sheer amount of sex you’ve been having lately—not that you're complaining. But what's even more surprising is that he's choosing right now to rectify it, basically in public where anyone could overhear or walk in on you. It's...really out of character for him. You thought he'd at least make it to the car.

“Joel, what the—,” you yelp as he lifts you up by the waist to settle you on the edge of a sink. It's clear his patience has completely run out because, within seconds, he's dropping to his knees, burying his face in your heat. "—fuck."

Your legs immediately try to close around his head, but he forces them back open with enough strength to overextend your already abused hamstrings. It shouldn't feel as good as it does, but the pain, combined with his blunt nails biting into your thighs, sends delicious jolts right to your core.

You exhale shakily, burying your fingers in his hair as he sucks a damp patch into your shorts, just slightly lower than where you need him. Your hips buck, urging him higher, but he doesn't allow that either, shoving them back down onto the hard porcelain beneath you.

Should've known it wouldn't be that easy. He's handling you aggressively, rougher than you would've expected, and that's when you realize he's mad.

"Bet ya thought that was real funny, teasin' me like that," he growls into your clothed pussy, licking up the seam to swirl wet circles where your clit throbs under too many layers. "Don't feel very nice, does it?"

His eyes meet yours as he sucks a little harder, and you whimper, tugging at his hair in a silent plea for him to take your shorts off and eat you out the way you both want him to. But he's going to drag this out and you know it.

Joel loves a little payback and has the patience of a saint unless he's pushed past his limit. To your detriment, you shoved him over that line with the stunt you pulled earlier, so now you'll have to convince him it's in his best interest to let it go.

Switching tactics, you tempt him with what he could have if he just gave in. Your fingers dip beneath your waistband, and you sigh as you slick them up against your folds before dipping them inside. You're already soaked, and so tight, even around two of your own fingers, and you tell him as much.

"No, it doesn't feel nice...but I know something that will," you pump your fingers in and out of yourself, the muted sound of wet squelching reaching your ears. "Hear that?—," you gasp, hips lifting off the sink as you accidentally graze something spongey and sensitive, "—t-that's all for you."

And it works like a charm. Your shorts and underwear are pulled off in a single, hard tug, his tongue fucking into you before you can even fully inhale, and you choke out a strangled moan instead. He eats you out like a man starved, his nose nudging your clit with every dip of his tongue, and it feels so potent, you practically see stars.

Your combined slick and his saliva are starting to leak over the edge of the sink but he catches every drop, and the way he slurps you up makes your cheeks burn. Joel's a lot of things when he's between your legs—enthusiastic, generous, and a little sloppy, but he's never wasteful.

Two thick fingers prod at your entrance, and then he's pressing them into you, the slide snug, but easy with how wet you are for him. Finally, finally, you can feel your orgasm building, and you're sent reeling when his tongue fucks into you between his fingers, filling you up—it's...yes, right there—

But he abruptly pulls his mouth away, still not done making you pay.

"Damn right, it's all for me. Ya think those jackasses watching you weren't thinkin' about this?" he growls, his fingers slowing to leisurely stroke your walls as if they weren't about to throw you over the edge a moment ago. "Think they could make you feel this good? Make you cum like I do?"

Your pussy flutters pathetically around him, and the false look of sympathy he gives you makes you want to cry out of sheer frustration.

"Gonna need an answer if you want me to keep goin'," he drawls, still close enough that you can feel his breath, hot against your cunt.

You bite down on your bottom lip, just hard enough to momentarily distract yourself from the aching between your legs so you can respond, but you're taking too long. His fingers have all but stopped, so you panic.

"Fuck those assholes. Fuck all of them," you grit through your teeth. He quirks an eyebrow, marginally picking up the pace of his fingers.

"Fuck 'em, huh? That what you wanna do?" He's teasing you, and even though it's obvious, you fall right into his trap, anyway. Blanching, you shake your head furiously.

"N-no—no, no, no. Just you, only wanna fuck you," you gasp, frantically trying to convince him of something you both already know to be true without a shadow of a doubt. It's honestly impressive that he can work you like this and, even more so, that he's the only one that can.

"S'okay, I know...I know. This right here—," he gives your clit a few kitten licks, the pads of his fingertips rubbing that perfect spot inside you, "—s'mine."

Then, he's burying his face back between your legs, redoubling his efforts, and it's so fucking sloppy. Wet and hot, and hungry, as if edging you has the same effect on him.

You feel him groan into you as you start to tighten around his fingers, loud enough that his chest rumbles with it, sending sweet vibrations up your thighs. The sound of his belt jingling, then hitting the floor vaguely makes it past the blood rushing in your ears, but his broad shoulders and head bobbing between your legs are blocking your view.

All you can see or hear is the frantic movement of his arm, his hand working up and down his cock, and the sound of skin slapping on skin. Fuck, that's—so hot, you're so close. So fucking close—

But he's got one last edge left in him.

You're throbbing so violently that for a second you're terrified he ruined your orgasm, but no, you're still teetering on the cusp, thighs quaking so hard, you can’t believe you haven’t crushed his head between them already. At this point, the smallest touch, even the tiniest puff of air would send you hurtling over.

He's still jerking himself off, sounding delirious as he separates his mouth from you to speak.

"Need to hear ya s-say it...," he pants, and you cry out, angrily reaching down to roughly shove his face back into you, but he resists. Spurred on by your reaction, he only fucks into his fist faster. “Nobody else gets to taste ya like I do…do they? Say it. Say it and I'll…ngh—let you cum,” he moans lowly, possessively.

Joel sounds completely gone. You never could've imagined dry humping a fucking stationary bike would set him off like this, or that a bunch of dumb muscleheads would make him this jealous. He's so lost in it, in you.

But the way he's looking up at you right now—it's like he really does need you to do this for him. To tell him that it’s just him, and it’ll only ever be him. It’s the truth. No one else has ever made you feel the way he does, with his mouth and hands, or his heart, and they never will again.

You whine, shaking your head pleadingly, ready to tell him whatever he wants to hear. Anything for him to put his mouth back on you again.

"T-they don't—no one else gets to, but you...only you," you keen as he seals his lips around your clit, all of his fears and insecurities finally soothed. Your head tips back, the feeling of his hot tongue laving over the sensitive bundle of nerves and his thick fingers—three of them, now—dragging against your walls exactly what you need.

You cum frighteningly quickly, your orgasm so powerful and overwhelming that you start to black out. Your eyes squeeze shut, and then it’s all just pleasure—the tension in all of your limbs slowly bleeds out with every spasm of your cunt, and something wet…so wet, splashes against your inner thighs.

Joel groans louder than you think you’ve ever heard him, the sound practically punched out of his chest as he licks broader lines up your pussy, sucking and slurping, and what…what is that? Why the fuck are you so wet? He—did Joel cum on you, and you didn’t even notice?

But that’s impossible because now his body’s completely seizing up, the hand around his cock stilling as he spurts thick ropes of cum across the bathroom floor. Or at least that’s the image your brain conjures up, unable to see it for yourself.

Your vision’s only just beginning to return to you, and you immediately look down to see what actually happened...and fuck. It was you. Joel’s head is resting on your thigh, nuzzling into your soft, very damp skin, and he's looking up at you in awe.

“Shit, baby…,” he pants, chest heaving, cock still twitching in his hand. "Ain't ever seen you do that before."

You blink blearily, lips parting as you take him in. He's a goddamn mess. His face and beard are soaked, and his shirt is splattered with what you can only assume is your release. You fucking squirted? In a dirty gym bathroom?

"What the fuck?" you mumble, still dazed and a little in disbelief at how your first, and probably last, trip to the gym went. You shake your head, clearing up the brain fog enough to quickly process the past two hours, and now you're in shock. "Joel, what the fuck?" you ask again incredulously.

He has the nerve to look sheepish where he's still happily nestled between your legs post-orgasm, and you bop the top of his head with your palm, eyeing him expectantly.

"Wanna explain what all of that was?"

"Look—," he starts, lips quirking down into that little frown you know so well. "If you'd've heard the shit those fuckers were sayin' about ya. Probably would've said worse if I hadn't told 'em to fuck off before they got into some real trouble."

"Wait, you were the reason they all took off? Joel," you laugh because suddenly it all makes sense.

You just learned the hard way that a grumpy, jealous Joel means getting edged until you black out. Pretty good knowledge to have for future reference, to be honest. Now that you're not sobbing with his head between your legs, it all seems so silly.

"What, did ya expect me to just stand there and let 'em talk about fuckin' my girl right in front of me?"

"I mean, no, but...I dunno, maybe just take the compliment next time and don't threaten a group of scary, muscular men," you chuckle fondly, cupping his wet cheeks in your hands. "Okay? It basically just means you have a hot girlfriend. Congratulations!"

But he only grumbles in response, still pouting like a child. You bend down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, and he sighs, some of the tension bleeding out of his shoulders.

"What if, when we get home, I show you some of the techniques I learned in my class?" you murmur into his hair. He tilts his head back, eyeing you skeptically.

"Baby, we don't have a stationary bike," he says, brows furrowed in confusion. You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, eyes dropping to his lap.

"That's okay. We won't need one."

THURSDAY

"You can't imagine what I'm 'bout to say. You really wanna know? You'll have to wait. (It's a surprise, surprise.)"

Blue, blue, blue. Just do it, just be blue! It's a great color—the best color, maybe even your favorite color.

You keep chanting at it, loudly and in your head, but the plastic stick doesn't seem to appreciate your encouragement. It just stares back at you, blank and unhelpful.

How much longer do the instructions say you have to wait? One to three minutes, that's it? It feels like it's already been two hours, but it's actually only been...30 seconds. What the fuck.

Maybe if you shake it, it'll develop faster. It's basically like a polaroid, right? And Outkast has never steered you wrong, so. You lean over from where you're still sitting on the toilet, pants around your ankles, to test your theory but it's too late.

It already has an answer for you. ...Wait, what? Both of the lines are blue. So...does that mean you're extra not pregnant? You snatch up the pamphlet again, actually reading through the directions this time, and your stomach drops. Pink was never even an option.

Two blue lines. Pregnant.

You knew this week was going a little too well.

Those random bouts of nausea, the weird cravings, the fucking breast tenderness. They didn't need to mean anything. They shouldn't have meant anything.

Fuck. Fuck. What are you supposed to do now? You're way too young to have a baby. Well. Okay, that's a massive lie, but still, you're definitely not ready to have one. Or to be…pregnant. You shudder at the thought.

Swollen ankles, morning sickness, mood swings. You’re already a walking rollercoaster of emotions, and your back hurts from just existing. No, you can’t do this.

It's not about the finances, either. You and Joel both have steady jobs and could make it work if you wanted to, but do you want to? Will he? He’s not your husband, not even your fiancée, so there’s no reason for him to stick around. It’s not his burden.

There's just too many unanswered questions. And Joel's already someone's dad. He did the whole baby thing by himself and got it right the first around.

Sarah's perfect—fuck, what is Sarah going to think? Stupid, this was so stupid. You thought you were being so careful. Sure, Joel cums inside you basically every time you have sex, but that's totally beside the point.

You take those dumb little pills at the same time every day, just like you're supposed to. Except…when’s the last time you had a period? Did you even get it last month? The month before?

Shit, that wedding—when was that wedding? Your coworker’s, the rich one who decided to have a fucking destination wedding in Hawaii a couple months ago. It was decadent. You and Joel were super drunk the entire time and fucked like rabbits for three days straight.

Fuck.

Don't cry. Do not cry. Joel will probably be back from picking Sarah up from soccer practice any minute, so you need to hold it together. Maybe you just won’t tell them, at least not until you’ve had more time to process everything and decide what you’re going to do.

But, god, you wear your emotions on your sleeve, and even more so on your face. They’ll know something’s off the second they look at you, and you won’t be able to talk yourself out of it. You’ve always been a shit liar.

Tears start to fall without your permission. You slump slowly to the floor, pants still around your ankles, and curl up into a ball, willing it all to go away—the tiny clump of cells growing inside your belly and the regret of being so careless, of letting yourself get caught up in a serious relationship in the first place. This isn’t something you can just wish away. It’s life-changing and nothing will ever be the same again. Was it really worth it?

No, no. Of course, it was. Snap out of it.

If only it were that easy. Sobs wrack your entire body, and you can barely hear yourself choking on them, unable to hold them in anymore. Your eyes squeeze shut as you desperately try to block out your reality, but it seeps up your nose and into your mouth, salty and unignorable.

Blood rushes in your ears and you realize belatedly that you’re starting to hyperventilate, but you can’t stop. You’re drawing in too much air all at once and it’s making your vision go fuzzy. It’s all just too much. Anger, sadness, and fear consume you until you’re screaming with it, desperate to expel it from your body any way you can.

So, you don’t hear the front door opening or Joel and Sarah running up the stairs, completely panic-stricken.

Joel reaches the ensuite bathroom first and all but breaks down the door, but he’s met with the sight of your half-naked body in a heap on the floor. Immediately, he turns to block Sarah from getting in.

“Hey, hey—no,” he says firmly, wrapping her up in his arms to keep her from seeing past him. “You’re not goin’ in there. Ya gotta give us some time, alright?”

She looks up at him, scared and visibly shaken.

“What if—do you think she’s okay in there? Was she hurt…d-did you see her?” she asks softly, eyes wet. “Can I see her?”

“Not right now, kiddo,” he mumbles, kicking the bathroom door shut behind him before leading her out of his room and into the hallway. “‘m sorry.”

The crestfallen look on Sarah’s face is the last thing he sees before he closes the door on her. But he has to ignore how badly it feels to keep her away from you, at least until he can figure out what the hell is wrong and how he’s going to fix it.

Your cries have quieted since earlier, but not nearly enough to ease Joel's fears. He can still hear you through the door, hiccuping softly, and opens it gently this time, entering slowly as if he's trying not to spook a scared animal.

It doesn't work as well as he'd hoped. Your head shoots up, a small gasp escaping your lips as you dizzily pull your pants back up.

"Easy there, s'okay. Baby, s'just me, don't worry," he murmurs, dropping to his knees on the floor next to you, but you flinch away. You can only imagine the hurt in his eyes, and the mental image tugs at your heart. "I need ya to tell me what happened. Did ya hurt yourself?"

Yeah, you could say that.

You shake your head, the only thing you're capable of doing in the state you're in. Trying to speak would be useless after all the screaming you just did and you can't bear to look him in the eye.

"Hey, talk to me. If somethin's the matter, I need to know, 'specially if we gotta get you to the hospital," he says, reaching out to touch you.

His hand grazes your shoulder, and your body jerks so viscerally that you slam your knees into the bottom of the sink. You let out a tiny whimper of pain right as you hear something small and plastic hit the ground next to you.

Oh, no. Shit. You desperately try to kick the test out of reach, to cover it with your body—anything to keep him from seeing it—but his fingers wrap around it before you get the chance. He sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth and you feel your whole world shattering.

That's it, then. Even just a glance at those two blue lines will have immediately told Joel all he needs to know. Now he'll leave and he'd have every right. This is all your fault.

Your cheeks are wet again, but this time you can't bring yourself to care. Turning away from him, you curl back into a ball, ignoring the angry throbbing in your knees as you wait for him to yell or throw the test, or finally get up and walk out.

But he doesn't. Instead, you hear him delicately set the test back on the sink and then he lays down behind you on the floor, wrapping his arms around you and pulling your back into his chest.

His heartbeat is fast. It's racing against you and, yet, somehow his breathing is still so calm. The calm before the storm, you're sure of it. You tense, anticipation sitting heavily on your chest and lungs, and he can feel it.

His lips press into the back of your neck and even though the action is so tender and so Joel, you still can’t convince yourself that maybe you’ve misjudged this entire situation. Or that you’ve misjudged him.

“Sweetheart,” he sighs, resting his forehead between your shoulder blades. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he isn’t calling you baby anymore. You can’t tell if that’s for your benefit or his. "Tell me what you're thinkin'."

Time feels like it's moving in slow motion. You really don't mean to ignore him…it’s just that you’re not thinking anything. Lying there in his arms, your mind goes blank, giving in to the white noise of his heartbeat syncopating your own fragile rhythm.

But somehow he seems to understand you completely, filling the silence himself. His voice lulls you into a false sense of security, or…no. No, that’s not right. It’s real. His security, his safety, is real and reliable, proven and palpable.

“Listen to me—I need ya to hear this, alright? I want whatever you want and if ya don’t want this, we’re not doin’ it,” he says firmly, like he means it with every fiber of his being. You do hear him. But your heart and mind are still rebelling, begging you to see their own senseless logic. Joel won’t stop until he convinces them, too.

“But if ya do…if—,” his voice trails off, cracking almost imperceptibly. At least, to anyone else but you. “—if ya wanna do this with me, then ‘m with ya. Every step of the way, ‘m with ya.”

Then, for the first time since those blue lines appeared in your life, you feel peace. And it's all him. He’s given you a choice—one you knew you always had, but never thought to factor him into. You didn’t think you deserved to involve him. But he does. He deserves that choice, too.

The floodgates open and soon you’re sobbing uncontrollably again, but this time it feels cathartic. Like he’s freed you from a prison of your own making. You find your voice, wet and shaky.

“Joel, I’m scared,” you weep, turning in his arms to finally meet his eyes. And there they are. Brown and beautiful and clear, unclouded by fear and regret, and you let them make you brave. For him and your tiny clump of cells.

“What if I can’t do this? What—I…,” you hiccup through the disjointed thought, “—if I give up…if it’s just too hard...”

“S’why there’s two of us,” he bends down to murmur soothingly into your cheek, lips brushing against the corner of your own. “But ya can’t push me away anymore. If we do this, then we do it together,” and that lances straight through your heart, obliterating all doubt and setting your decision in stone.

Together. You’re in this together.

“Okay,” you croak, sniffling as he wipes away your tears. You repeat it, clearer this time. “Okay.”

FRIDAY

"You might think I'm crazy, the way I've been cravin'. If I put it quite plainly, just gimme them babies."

Doctors' offices have no business being as scary as they are. Bare and sterile, and not an ounce of color to be found anywhere but those creepy posters of in-depth diagrams of the human body. Gross.

You fight the urge to turn around and head straight back to the truck but, as if he can sense your plan to make a run for it, Joel places both hands on your shoulders and leads you toward the reception desk.

“C’mon, we got this,” he says quietly in your ear, likely reassuring both of you. “We go in, they tell us you ’n the baby are healthy, then we get out.”

You grimace. The baby. That’s still so weird. There’s literally a tiny being growing inside you, eating your food, and sitting on your fucking bladder. It’s like that thing in Alien that bursts out of people’s chests.

Great. Well, that’s officially off the list for movie night later, which Joel promised you'd have if you got your check-up without trying to escape. Technically, you’re doing great so far. And it’s an extremely tempting offer.

Movie nights at the Miller house usually include a trip to 7/11 for popcorn, soda, and a box of your favorite candy. Those annoying cravings you’re just now realizing are because you’re pregnant would be extremely satiated by that.

You’ll also get to curl up on the couch with Joel all night in a childless house because Sarah's staying at a friend’s. Win-win. But first, you have to make it through this check-up.

Everything up until you’re inside the actual examination room isn’t actually so bad. The receptionist is nice enough, even though you can tell she deals with a lot of first-time moms by the way she treats you with baby gloves, and the wait time is less than 10 minutes.

Yeah, you’ve totally got this. Or at least you did until the doctor shows up with an ultrasound machine and lifts your shirt to squeeze that freezing cold goop all over your stomach. You look up at Joel, scared and a little bewildered, and he takes your hand in his, rubbing soothing circles into your skin. The screen lights up with what you assume is a real-time view of the inside of your belly and, after that, it’s all sort of a blur.

Six weeks. They tell you that you’re already six weeks pregnant, so you definitely conceived at that dumb wedding. At least you’ve got a story to tell. You’re also entering that fun stage where your nausea’s mostly cleared up, but now you’ll either be super tired or super horny at any given time.

You try not to laugh when you feel Joel’s hand subtly twitch in yours. Of course, he perks up at that. Honestly, you’d be a liar if you said you weren’t going to enjoy it, too. Immensely.

Then, comes the big one. The entire point of this doctor’s visit, and the reason you and Joel are gripping each other so tight, you’re cutting off the other’s circulation. But it’s good news. Luckily, it's all good news.

Your tiny clump of cells is healthy, you’re healthy, and you can go home now, equipped with all of that very calming knowledge. One day, you’re going to have to stop calling them a clump, but you’ve decided today is not that day.

“Told ya it wouldn’t be so bad,” he teases as you walk out to the truck, still hand-in-hand.

But his eyes betray his tone. There’s a seriousness to his joy, and you can see it so clearly in the way he’s looking at you like you’ve given him the greatest gift in the world. It makes you feel warm and…important. Loved. He continues, his voice tinged with something a little softer.

“Thank you…for goin’, I mean. S’good to know that everythin’s alright. That you’re alright.”

You stop next to the car, meeting his gaze with what you hope is the same amount of love and affection you see, and throw your arms around his neck.

“Thanks for taking me, and just…being here. Like, really being here, not just showing up so you can say you did,” you say earnestly, and he leans down to kiss you, his arms wrapping around you to pull you close.

“‘Course, baby. Don't have to thank me for that,” he mumbles against your lips.

Not ready to separate from him, you deepen the kiss, running your tongue along his bottom lip until he opens for you and licking into his mouth freely. He groans as you press him into the side of the truck, his hands trailing down your sides to grip the plush of your ass through your jeans.

You can feel him starting to stiffen against your belly and that carnal hunger the doctor warned you about takes over, the need to feel more, more of him overwhelming you. He’s just so solid everywhere.

Your fingers skim underneath his shirt to feel his stomach flexing beneath your palms, and you roll your hips into his, gasping into his mouth at the friction. You’re so caught up in his hands on your body, his tongue in your mouth, that you don’t hear the group of people passing by on the other side of the truck.

But Joel does. He begrudgingly pulls away from you, hard as a rock and panting heavily. You whine at the loss, and he twitches against you in response.

“C’mon, baby, I’m not fuckin’ you in a goddamn Planned Parenthood parkin’ lot,” he chuckles, leading you to the passenger’s side of the car. He smacks your ass when you resist, and you shoot him a wounded glare. “Uh-uh, none’a that. ‘m takin’ you home. Owe ya a movie, don’t I?”

You perk up at the mention of his promise from earlier.

“You sure do. And candy, and popcorn, and soda,” you list off, easily distracted by the prospect of shitty junk food. You bounce into the car, shifting the seat to recline as far as it’ll go. “What are we watching?”

“Whatever you want, baby."

Well, he did say he’d give you whatever you wanted. And for a while, it was the movie—you’d even picked out your favorite. But you only manage to get about 20 minutes in before Joel's arm around your shoulder and chest under your cheek become an unignorable distraction.

Now, you want something else.

You don't bother teasing or playing coy, not when he’s so solidly pressed against you, just begging to be had. Your body rises and falls with every breath he takes, and it’s so visceral, being close enough to touch and taste him, and yet not doing either.

His neck looks especially delicious under the faint, fluorescent lighting of the TV, and your lips press wetly into the underside of his jaw, sucking delicately as your tongue darts out to taste him. His breath hitches, but he shows no other signs of being affected at all.

Taking that as your cue to up the ante, you drop your hand onto his lap to tug at his belt, but he catches you before you can make any progress. You tilt your head back to look up at him, brows furrowed in confusion, but he just smirks, eyes still locked on the TV screen.

"You wanted a movie, didn't ya? Thought ya loved this one," he says teasingly. "You can wait a couple hours—I know ya can."

Yeah, you can, but that doesn't mean you want to. He was so into it in the parking lot, so what happened between then and now? You didn't think he liked this movie that much, but apparently you were mistaken.

Settling back into his side, you try to shift your focus back to the movie, but then the hand on your shoulder starts to play with your hair. His fingers graze your neck, and you're back to squeezing your thighs together in frustration.

He has to be doing this on purpose. Riling you up so much that once the movie’s finally over, you’ll be putty in his hands. Well, two can play that game. If he won't let you touch him, then you'll just have to touch yourself.

Your eyes flutter closed as you run your fingers down your belly, slipping your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts to drag your fingers up and down your slick folds. God, you didn't realize you were already so wet. You gasp softly as you trail upward toward your clit, but Joel's voice startles you out of your reverie.

"Should ya be doin' that right now?"

There's a tinge of warning to his voice, and it burns hot in your veins. You open your eyes slowly and he's finally looking at you, his attention drawn to your fingers still moving under the fabric.

"Well, you weren't gonna. What, are you—," your middle finger brushes against that sensitive bundle of nerves and you bite back a whine, "—you...ngh—gonna stop me?"

The hand that was gently stroking your hair shifts back to firmly grip the back of your neck, squeezing just hard enough to make your fingers stutter. He leans in, his voice dangerously low in your ear.

"No, I'll let ya keep goin'. But you're gonna do exactly what I tell ya to, ya got that?" he murmurs, watching as your hips begin to swivel into your own sweet friction. "'n if you're good for me...," he trails off, eyes dropping down to where he's slowly jerking off his hardening cock through his jeans. "...I'll give ya this. We got a deal?"

You want him inside you so badly, you almost say yes before he's even done talking, but then you have a wicked thought. A counteroffer, of sorts.

"I'll take your deal. But—," you start with a devilish smile, and he raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to continue. "Only if you touch yourself, too. Want you to fuck your hand like you're fucking me."

"Deal," he says without hesitation.

"Deal," you smirk, removing your hand from your pussy for him to shake, your fingers sticky and glistening.

He takes your proffered hand but, instead of shaking, he wraps his lips around your slick digits, sucking you off each one and groaning at your taste. What you wouldn't give to have that tongue in your mouth. Or buried in your cunt. Pulling off with a lewd pop, he nods at your lap.

"Take your fuckin' pants off. Now."

Shit, he doesn't have to tell you twice. You quickly shimmy out of your shorts and underwear, and wait for his next instructions. You'll be a good girl for him. The best girl he's ever had and ever will.

"Spread 'em. Show me how wet you are for me," he mumbles, kicking your legs apart.

You spread them as wide as you can. The cool night breeze filtering in through the open window meets your center, and you're suddenly aware of how much wetter you've gotten since you started. It almost makes your mouth water. You don't think you've ever been this turned on by your own body in your life.

Slick coats your thighs, seeping into the couch, and he looks pleased. You can see he wants to touch you just as badly as you want to touch yourself. Your knee bumps into his thigh and he hooks your leg over his, holding you open.

"Shit, would'ja look at that," he breathes out in awe. "Prettiest pussy I've ever seen."

Your cunt visibly clenches at the praise and he hisses in a breath through his teeth, resting his hand on your thigh so he can lean over your body. He lingers for a moment like he's admiring you laid out for him like this, but then moves a little closer and spits a thick glob of saliva right onto your clit.

Your jaw drops, a loud gasp torn from your chest when he grabs your hand, using your fingers to gather it up and swirl it around your swollen nub. Shit, if he keeps going like this, you're going to cum and fast.

Dropping your head back onto his shoulder, you rock into your fingers, slipping through the mess he's made of your pussy, and your body starts to feel like a rubber band about to snap.

"Wanna taste you so fuckin' bad. Fuck you on my tongue 'til you're nice 'n ready for me," he growls, pressing your fingers harder onto your clit. "S'that what you want? Wanna cum in my mouth?"

You turn to bury your head into the crook of his neck, nodding frantically as you cry into the soothing warmth of his skin. You're going to cum. Fuck, fuck, you're going to cum. Your eyes start to roll back as you feel it crescendo, and then—

Then, he releases your hand, cruelly and unapologetically.

"Not yet, baby. We both gotta be patient, don't we?" he teases you again, and your eyes snap open.

What the fuck. No, you're not letting him edge you again. It was fun and all at the gym, but you're way too far gone to be playing games right now.

And how isn't he a total wreck? Both of his hands are on you, even though that wasn't part of the deal, so he can't be taking care of himself.

Your eyes drop down to his lap, and wow. This man has more willpower than you ever could've imagined. He's so hard, you can see the tip of his cock peeking out above the waistband of his pants. And it's leaking everywhere, twitching and angrily dribbling precum all over the fabric.

He looks...so fucking good like this. Fuck, you want him so bad. But that means getting back on track, and it's obviously on you to make that happen. Clearly, he's more affected by all of this than he made it seem.

"Joel, please, just tell me what to do," you plead. You'll beg if you have to. Whatever it takes for you to finally get what you want.

"Alright, alright," he concedes, taking sympathy on you, likely reaching his limit himself. "'m gonna let you make yourself feel good, baby. Don't'chu worry."

"Great," you grit through your teeth. "Then start by taking your fucking pants off."

He chuckles at his words thrown back at him, but listens, regardless. His boxers and jeans are pulled off in two hard tugs, and his cock bounces against his stomach, thick and wet, and unfairly far from your aching pussy. The hand on your neck moves to gently caress the side of your cheek.

"Gonna start nice 'n slow, ya got that?" he says, biting back a groan as he wraps his fingers around his neglected cock. He starts to pump himself, and more precum leaks out. "Watch me."

But it didn't need to be said. You're already enraptured by the way he strokes himself, slow and steady, swiping his thumb over the head on every upstroke. He's panting softly, trying to keep his hips from jerking up into his fist, but you can see how much effort it's taking not to.

"C'mon, baby. Gimme one finger—your middle finger, all the way in," he commands, his voice as tight as his grip.

You tear your eyes away from him while you run your fingers through your folds, still slick with his saliva and your own desire, and then sink your finger into yourself knuckle by knuckle. It doesn't feel like much, and you both know it, but at least it's something.

"Now, follow me," he says, watching your hand as intently as you're watching his.

You rock your finger in and out slowly, just like he said. Because you're his good girl and good girls do what they're told. It’s already a sticky mess, your finger creamier with every thrust, and he groans out his appreciation.

"Good girl. Add another one. Not too fast, now."

Finally, you get some real relief. Slipping your index finger in alongside your middle finger, you feel that little bit of stretch you've been aching for and you can't help but whimper.

His lips part, brows furrowing as his hand speeds up. His eyes are locked on where your sopping cunt is sucking in your fingers greedily and, fuck, he's even more of a mess now. Sweat dripping from his temples, chest heaving with the effort of holding himself back.

So hot. So��fucking hot. It's scorching, the way your cunt feels around your fingers as you fuck into yourself a little faster. They're rubbing your walls just right, your palm grazing your clit after every stroke, and his hyper-focused gaze makes it all feel that much better. You want to hear him say it again. For him to tell you how well you’re doing.

"—ngh...i-is this good?" you whine, knowing how pathetic you sound, but forgetting to care.

"Perfect, baby. You're perfect," he rasps, unable to keep his hips from snapping up into his fist as the sweet sounds of your wet squelching reach his ears. "So fuckin' good for me."

Preening hard at his praise, you push a little too deep into yourself and graze something mind-numbing that almost hurts with how good it feels. You cry out, curling your fingers into it again and again as you bury your face back into his neck. His arm tightens around your shoulder and he leans over to press his lips soothingly against your forehead.

"That's it, baby, just like that. Doin' so well," he groans, lips brushing against your skin. His strokes are frantic now and you know he can’t last much longer. "Need ya to gimme one more. Just one—last one, promise. Then I'll give ya whatever you want."

Nodding quickly, face still cushioned against his shoulder, you add your ring finger, and fucking hell, you’re so full. You stretch your fingers apart, pumping them in and out the best you can, and they drag against that spot—every spot—with how tight you are. But somehow it’s not enough. It’s not Joel’s cock, so it’ll never be enough.

Everything’s drowned out except for the wet sounds of skin on skin, and Joel’s voice, still just above your brow, talking you through your almost painful pleasure. He’s panting, whispering tender words that you can’t hear so much as feel with those soft, perfect lips.

“…tell me when you’re close, baby. Can’t feel ya, gonna need you to use your words,” he barely chokes out, staving off his orgasm, waiting for you.

It’s already close, but you’re only teetering, stuck in a constant loop of almost there, and need more. You can’t reach where you need to, but Joel can. So easily and all you have to do is ask. He said he’d give you whatever you wanted.

But you didn’t realize he was already at his limit, and you don’t get the chance to tell him before he’s babbling, delirious with the need to cum.

"'m sorry—fuck, 'm sorry. Need...to—ngh, fuck, need to cum inside you...fill you up...," he moans, and he sounds upset like he can’t help himself, not anymore.

Abruptly, so much quicker than you can fully process, your fingers are yanked out of your cunt and replaced by his cock, and the thrust is so harsh, he hits exactly where you need him to without even trying. The whine building in your chest erupts as a wail as you immediately lock down around him, sending him over the edge with you.

Full. God, how can you feel this full? You’re so unbelievably aware of him cumming inside you and there’s so much, he’s already leaking out of you. And he almost seems angry about it. Your hips are roughly tilted up so he’s fucking down into you, eyes unfocused, and snarling like a wild animal.

And still so mouthy.

“You got no idea how good ya look right now. Fuckin’ glowin’,” he all but slurs, drunk on the idea of keeping his seed inside you. “S’that my baby in you, makin’ ya glow like that?”

"Oh...oh, god, fuck, Joel,” you whimper, your aftershocks still milking him dry. “Christ, y-you trying to knock me up twice?"

It’s like that alone makes him redouble his efforts. You’ve never seen him like this before, but you like it. Something primal in you wants this as badly as he does.

"Fuck yeah, baby, gonna pump you full'a twins."

Holy shit. You’re not sure if you’re still cumming or if you just came again, but you feel an entirely new rush of pleasure and he hisses out a breath through his teeth like he can feel it. Not long after, sensitivity starts to set in for both of you and he stills, seated deeply inside you, chest heaving and eyes shut tight.

His hands squeeze where they’ve been aggressively gripping your thighs before he reluctantly pulls out, but he keeps your hips tilted up as he drops to sit between your legs on the cushion below.

“There a reason I can’t lay down like a normal person?” you laugh, wiggling in his grasp. “Joel, come on, put me down. I’m already pregnant.”

“Just gimme a minute,” he mumbles, suddenly sounding so solemn. He turns his head from where it's resting on the side of your knee to kiss your damp skin. “Didn’t know I was knockin’ you up the first time, just…lemme have this, alright?”

Your eyes soften. How this man can be such a sap after fucking you like that is beyond comprehension, but if he wants this, then you’ll let him have his moment. It’s kind of sweet, anyway.

“Okay,” you reach up to brush your fingertips along his cheek. It's incredible, really, all of the things you see in Joel's eyes right now. That in this single, fleeting gaze, you can see forever. "Put a baby in me.”

SATURDAY

"Can you stay up all night? Fuck me 'til the daylight. 34, 35."

You’re convinced Joel tastes especially good in the mornings. There’s a hint of sweat to his skin, so naturally bitter and heady, maybe even a little tangy. It’s fucking delicious.

And he’s always hard in the morning. His cock is the perfect alarm clock, always reliable and super effective, whether it’s pulsing against your thigh or rutting into your ass. It’s your favorite way to wake up, but there’s usually not enough time to enjoy it to the fullest.

Not with work and Sarah, even Tommy showing up for breakfast unannounced. But it’s Saturday, which means you can keep your lips wrapped around him for as long as you want, make him cum as many times as you want, and taste him to your heart’s content.

He probably won’t even wake up, at least not right away. Joel sleeps like the dead, especially on the weekends, and it’s been a long week. Even now, as you suck the tip into your wet, very eager mouth and swallow him down halfway, he barely stirs.

That’s more than okay with you. You’d be happy to lie in bed, head pillowed on his stomach, keeping his cock warm between your lips while you wait. Relishing how fucking good he tastes and how your jaw pleasantly aches as you adjust to accommodate his girth.

But, soon enough, your jaw isn’t the only thing aching. The slick mess you’re making in your underwear right now is getting hard to ignore, but you don’t want to let him go. He’s velvety smooth against your tongue, dribbling salty precum down your throat, and his unconscious body is starting to respond to you more and more with each passing moment. This is your favorite part.

He lets out a soft grunt, twitching into the inside of your cheek, and your efforts become a little more concentrated and a lot more obvious. You try to forget about your soaked underwear and the pleasurable whoosh in your belly in favor of sucking a little harder, letting saliva pool in your mouth as you slurp loudly around the head.

His hips jerk up, surprising you enough to gag you, and that only makes your mouth and pussy wetter, the heat building in your core almost unbearable now. The moan that escapes you sends a drawn-out series of vibrations straight down to his balls that pulls even more noise from him, and your head steadily shifts with the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

He's starting to rut into your mouth, whimpering, and yet somehow still asleep, and it makes you feel powerful to have full control over him like this. To command his pleasure without any interruption or intervention, making him fall apart entirely at your mercy. You kind of hope you can get him to cum like this, to be his alarm clock for once.

Turns out only half of your wish is granted, but you don't realize it until Joel's fingers are threading into your hair and abruptly tugging you off. He's definitely awake now, but he also definitely didn't cum. Bummer. You try sucking him back into your mouth, but he tugs you harder even as his hips chase you.

"Joel, what—?" you glare up at him, but upon seeing him, you feel a little bad for your reaction. He looks so sleepy, still a little dazed from his unconventional wake-up call, blinking blearily like he's doing his best to stay awake. Your expression softens.

"Sorry, got a little carried away," you murmur sheepishly. "But, um, you taste really good, so if you wanna go back to sleep, I can just keep—"

You're cut off by a hand trailing down your body, following the curve of your ass to dip inside you. He smears the moisture around your entrance, pushing two fingers into you, then pulling out to hold them up to his face. You watch him, enraptured by the way he inspects your wetness, how it strings between his middle and ring fingers.

Then, he surprises you even further by sucking them into his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he groans around them before slipping them out totally clean. His cock jerks next to your face and you belatedly realize you're drooling.

"Fuck, so do you." He's fully awake now, eyes clear, but dark. Hungry.

"Huh?" you ask dumbly.

"Ya taste really good," he mumbles, his voice low and so sexy, still thick with sleep. You feel your cheeks heat up. Oh.

"C'mere, baby," he tells you, patting his chest. You crawl up his body and lean up to kiss him, assuming he wants you to taste yourself in his mouth, but he stops you. "Other way, sweetheart."

Your brows furrow in confusion as you try to work out exactly what he's asking for. Even though you've been awake and riling him up for what feels like hours, your brain clearly hasn't caught up yet. His eyes are unreadable, fingers tense at his sides. Like he's just itching for you to understand.

"Need you to figure this out—know you can do it," he rasps needily. "C'mon, smart girl, what do I want?"

And then it hits you. He's not asking you to sit on his chest, not really. He wants you to sit on his face. Needs you to. Sprawled out on your hands and knees where his spit-slick cock would be just within reach, bobbing temptingly with every breath he takes.

God, you want to. The idea of Joel fucking you with his tongue while he's fucking into your mouth makes you clench so hard it hurts. You bite your lip, meeting his expectant gaze.

Okay. Okay, you can definitely do that. Especially when he looks so...eager. It also has the double advantage of combining mind-blowing sex with a well-rounded breakfast. You have a feeling you'll both be full after this.

"Just so I have this straight—," you splay your fingers across his stomach, trailing down to wrap tightly around his length and tug upward until a single, perfect bead of precum leaks from his slit, "—you still want my mouth here."

Your eyes stay locked on his as you bend down to lick it off, lingering to suckle the tip and tease your tongue just under the ridge. When he doesn't immediately tug you off, you take him deeper, preening at his harsh intake of breath.

You don't want to press your luck, but he tastes fucking incredible, somehow even better than he did earlier. Maybe it's the way he's watching you, captivated and attuned to your every movement.

He’s already starting to buck into you, shallowly, now an active participant in his own pleasure. His knuckles are nearly white with how hard he’s fisting the sheets, teeth gritting as he fights the urge to rush you.

But his patience is wearing thin. Just a few thrusts later, he tugs you off with what feels like dwindling restraint, and your dazed, glassy eyes don't do much to help.

You look wrecked, and you know it. Lips swollen and slick with saliva, your lashes wet with unshed tears from the effort of taking him. He reaches out to trace your bottom lip with his thumb, hissing when you catch the tip between your teeth.

“Yeah...ngh—yeah, keep doin' that. Suckin' me just like that," he breathes raggedly. "And sit that pretty pussy right here—"

Then, without warning, he's suddenly manhandling you into position, throwing your leg over his head, and maneuvering you until you can feel him panting heavily against your cunt.

“Down, baby, let's go. Wanna taste ya. Now.”

Blunt nails dig into your skin and your hips stutter, dipping low enough for your clit to brush his bottom lip. It’s enough for him to get a taste of you. For him to finally snap and decide he’s done waiting.

Joel yanks you onto his face, licking a wide stripe from your clit to your entrance, his tongue immediately finding a home in your pussy. The motion knocks you off balance and you fall forward, his cock just inches from your mouth.

Bracing a hand on his stomach, you wrap your other around him and he groans throatily in response, the sound deep and muffled as he licks into you with increased fervor. And his noises only grow in volume, vibrating against your folds and sending jolt after jolt into your very sensitive bundle of nerves.

His mouth feels so fucking hot, and the coarseness of his beard burns, making it hard to concentrate on what you’re desperately trying to accomplish. You’re already panting, hiccuped breaths puffing teasingly and cruelly against him until he’s pulsing in your grip.

The promise of him throbbing just like that down your throat makes you focus just long enough to take him back into your mouth, intent on sucking him down as far as your body will let you. But, by now, any sense of self-control he might’ve had before is totally gone. His hips buck clean off the mattress at the tightness of your lips around him, and he all but chokes you with the force of it, the size of him.

And, fuck, you love it. The way his stomach tenses, his thighs trembling beneath you. You can’t tell where your body ends and his begins, not when he’s fucking into you every single way he can. His tongue spears into you and your pussy rhythmically squeezes him every time his cock grazes the back of your throat.

You’re audibly gagging around him and it’s filthy as hell, but you can tell how much it’s turning him on. Christ, can you tell. Maybe you were genuinely worried you’d suffocate him at first but, now, you probably couldn’t stop yourself from grinding into his face even if you tried. And that's exactly what he wants.

"...Harder—mmph, c'mon, baby," you feel him groan into your cunt, urging your hips even lower. "—ride me harder, harder."

How—he...fuck, he's...? Everywhere. He's everywhere. You struggle to do what he told you, to use him for your mounting pleasure, but it doesn't fucking matter anymore. You're helpless but to let him do whatever he wants to you.

Joel’s devouring you. Roughly grabbing your ass, moaning pathetically into you as he pulls your cheeks apart for better access. It’s almost like you can feel him swelling between your lips, and you try to pull up for just a second of respite.

But, then, he abruptly shifts. His mouth lowers to suck gently, yet fleetingly on your clit twice, then he licks a wide stripe back up to your entrance. Except, he doesn’t stop there. Instead, he continues his path up, gathering your wetness as he goes, and swirls his tongue around your other hole before sucking hard. And it sends you reeling.

Jesus fucking Christ, that’s new. Fuck, and it’s—so...so good. It’s indescribable, how he feels right now. How he sounds—slurping you up, whimpering desperately like he’ll cum at any moment.

And he’s loud, drawn-out moans escaping from so deep within his chest, they climb their way from that tight ring of muscle straight up your spine, where you can vaguely feel his arm snaking around you to claw at your back. You can’t think anymore—you’re done thinking.

Now, it’s just him trapping you in place, the three fingers he’s suddenly pumping into your spasming pussy, and his cock, now abandoned and leaking on his stomach. It’s so much, bordering on too much, and you can’t hold yourself up anymore.

Your head drops unceremoniously onto the puddle of precum and it smears across your cheek as his hips urgently roll into nothing. But you don’t even notice. Not even when your eyes roll back and you start to babble deliriously, your orgasm building quickly in a place between your legs you can’t even begin to explain.

“Joel…JoelJoelJoel—I…you…,” you slam a hand down on the mattress as your thighs start to quake violently. “…cumming—‘m cumming, fuck—fuck.”

It doesn’t just crash over you, it rocks you to your core. Everything below your waist locks down, squeezing his fingers so tight, you swear you can feel each individual knuckle. Your jaw drops, parting around what feels like a silent scream, but you can’t be totally sure because soon, Joel is groaning so gutturally, you can’t focus on anything else.

At least, until he cums completely untouched right into your face. And he cums hard. Thick spurts cover your lips and chin, landing haphazardly on your cheek, and your tongue darts out to taste him, salty and sated and perfect. Exactly what you've been waiting for.

His thighs tense intermittently, a few more drops dribbling out of his slit, and you crane your neck, letting your tongue flutter over his head. As it pulses weakly against your lips, Joel gasps out your name, burying his face in your swollen pussy again.

Lazily, you swivel your hips into his mouth despite the extreme overstimulation, hiccuping soft moans and nearly succumbing to the easy pleasure. He gently caresses your clit, enveloping you with a dextrous warmth that simultaneously makes you jolt and crave the sensation.

Neither of you want to stop. Truthfully, you'd let him do this to you all day, drawing orgasm after orgasm from each other the way you have been all week. But exhaustion's starting to set in and you're not sure your body can physically take any more.

Joel slaps your ass and you huff out a soft laugh, deciding it's time to separate so you can get cozy with him again. The perfect end to your surprisingly athletic, lazy Saturday morning in bed.

“You gonna stop anytime soon, or do you just live there now?” you pant teasingly, grimacing as you slowly lift your head off his stomach.

Shit, you’re a mess. You’re practically stuck to him, his cum drying on his stomach and your face, and you can feel the stickiness of his saliva mixed with your juices dripping between your legs. His hand trails from your ass down to your inner thigh, painting mindless patterns on your sullied skin.

"Sure don't seem like ya want me to stop," he chuckles tiredly, managing to suck your clit chastely one last time before you jerk your hips away.

His head finally drops onto the pillow below him, and he lets out a disgruntled whine when you toss your leg over his head, plopping down on the bed beside him.

"Yeah, well, one of us has to have a little self-control or we're not leaving this bed today. And you, uh, look like you could use some tidying up,” you snort, scratching your fingertips against his already crusting beard. He mimics the motion on your leg, and you swat his hand away, rolling your eyes fondly.

It would be disgusting if it were literally anyone else but Joel but, here in this bed—your bed—it feels so natural. Like it’s totally normal that you’d be covered in each other’s releases, having a silly conversation on a Saturday morning as if you’ve done this all your lives.

“Might wanna look in the mirror, baby. I’d be more’n happy to keep lookin’ at ya like this, but—,” he leans up to wipe a streak of cum off your bottom lip. His hand lingers, cupping your damp cheek, and you instinctively lean into his touch. “—you probably need more cleanin’ up than I do.”

You eye each other for a few seconds, taking in how truly disgusting you both are, before bursting into fits of laughter. You’re smiling so hard, your skin tugs under his drying release and that makes you laugh even harder.

“Alright, alright, filthy girl,” he jokes, wiping a stray tear from his eye. “Lay down, I’ll take care of ya.”

He sits up and slowly slides off the bed, yanking your legs out from under you as he goes. Still giggling, you flop onto the damp, cotton sheets with an oomph and immediately take the opportunity to stretch out your sore limbs. You nuzzle into your pillow with a soft mewl, practically purring as you try to soak up the warm morning rays streaming through the gaps in the curtains.

You glance over at Joel as you continue to nest like a gigantic cat, but he's already watching you, paused in the doorway to the bathroom. His eyes rove appreciatively down your naked body and you observe him quietly, deciding you'll let him stare for as long as he wants to. There's no rush. Sure, you're still a mess and probably have the worst bedhead imaginable, but despite it all, he makes you feel beautiful.

When he returns with a cool, damp washcloth a few minutes later, he's much cleaner and you're only a little bummed that the evidence of your explosive morning is gone. He's gentle and attentive as he wipes the remaining streaks off your cheeks and chin, and bends down to kiss you once your face is officially cum-free.

Okay, maybe you lied earlier. This is your favorite part. Joel taking care of you, choosing to express his affection through his actions and touch. You sigh into his mouth, melting into the first real kiss you've shared since waking up, and it takes his tongue tangling with yours for you to realize he tastes minty. He's always so delicious.

Trailing further down, he wipes his release off your stomach, pressing his lips to each freshly-cleaned inch of skin, and then crawls between your legs to wash away the mess he made of your thighs. Your eyes start to flutter closed at the repetitive shift in sensation, his hands lulling you to sleep, until the washcloth hits the floor with a dull splat.

Well, that was over way too soon. But you quickly forgive the horrible transgression once his warm, welcome body sinks into the bed next to you, and his tousled head of hair and beard nuzzle into your stomach.

He mouths at your skin, his lips pressing sweetly around your belly button, and it tickles, making you laugh as you thread your fingers through his curls and scratch his scalp affectionately.

After a moment of comfortable silence, his hand splays warm and broad next to his head. His expression shifts and he looks unexpectedly pensive. Uncertainty creeps into your chest before you can logic it away, even though you know without a doubt that he wants this. His lips begin to move against your stomach and it takes a second for you to realize he's saying something, almost too quietly for you to hear. But when it finally registers, all of that fear completely fades away.

"Hey there, kiddo. It's me, your daddy," he murmurs, his thumb rubbing circles into your skin as soothing as his words. He has the tiniest smile on his face, and it's growing wider by the second. "We're all so excited to meet ya. Me, your momma, your big sister, your uncle...we already love ya so damn much."

The room starts to blur into a wash of colors and figures, and shit, you're crying. But how could you not be? He's...talking to your tiny clump of cells. To your baby—who can't possibly be bigger than a pumpkin seed—with so much adoration, it makes your chest ache.

You're trying so hard not to tremble or sniffle or breathe too heavily so you don't startle him, but that doesn't exactly work out. A few stray tears make their way up your nose, and you snort around your next inhale. Classic, clumsy you.

Joel's head shoots up like he's been caught and his cheeks flush that beautiful shade of burgundy you love so much. You don't want him to stop, but he looks so embarrassed like he thinks he's done something wrong. That couldn't be further from the truth.

"I'm just emotional from the hormones, it's totally fine. I'm totally fine," you give him a reassuring, watery grin. "Keep going. I think they like the sound of daddy's voice."

He chuckles and reaches up to wipe your tears away, gently cradling your face in his hand before he slides it back down to your belly. He continues where he left off, just like you asked, but you have a sneaking suspicion he would've anyway. Joel's just one of those men who was born to be a dad. It comes as naturally to him as breathing.

“Heard that? That's your momma, kiddo. She's....well. She's somethin' else. Strongest, most lovin', person I've ever known and fuckin' sharp as a tack," he smiles up at you, eyes crinkling and bright as the goddamn sun. "And she's beautiful. She even sounds beautiful, don't she? Hopin' you'll come out just like her."

You scoff affectionately, shaking your head as you share a look that tells you he knows exactly what you're thinking. If this baby pops out without his brown eyes and curls, you're going to be so pissed. You teasingly tug his hair, willing him to take it back, but he won't. If your baby's getting anything from the two of you, it's stubbornness.

Then, before you can blink, there's a sudden tone shift. His hand finds yours, lacing your fingers together, and he turns his head so he's speaking directly into your belly. An exchange just between a father and his child.

"Wanna know a secret? S'just between you and me, though, alright? Don't go tellin' your momma," he says nosing into your soft skin, his voice barely above a whisper. You watch him curiously, squeezing his hand to get his attention, but his focus remains on your stomach. "'m gonna ask your momma to marry me. Think she'll say yes?"

Your heart stops and it feels like all of the air's been sucked out of the room. That's—fuck...that's one hell of a secret to share with your baby. You can't even imagine the kind of trouble they're going to get up to if they're already keeping secrets like that.

His eyes flit up to meet yours, but they're not questioning or expectant. He isn't wondering what your answer will be. He just looks peaceful. Blanketed in an easy calm because he already knows what you're going to say. Of course, he does.

Propping his chin on your hip, Joel quietly observes your reaction while he strokes the back of your hand with the rough pad of his thumb. You wonder what he sees on your face and in your body language right now because you're positive it's not the elation or excessive joy anyone else would expect.

You're not squealing or jumping up and down, or whatever newly engaged people usually do. No, that blanket of easy calm is more than big enough for both of you, and it feels safe and warm, just like you always knew this moment would.

And you wouldn't want it any other way. Lying here together after possibly the most eventful week of your lives, filled with so much sex and love and family, and deciding that you want to keep doing this together, over and over. Forever.

You guide his hand up to your lips, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to his palm, before placing it over your racing heart. That tiny smile returns to his face and he crawls up your body so he can kiss you properly, conveying his love better than words ever could.

It's still way too early for your baby to kick or give their daddy any sort of sign that they heard his question, but you're sure they wouldn't mind if you answered for them. It's a no-brainer, anyway.

"Yeah, I do."

thanks for reading! 💕

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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seventhemaverick · 4 months

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Astro Observations 2 🪽

Thank you for 120+ followers!! <3 this post has opinions and personal observations. Don’t take it too serious my babies. I love ur feedback. Please be kind, inform me otherwise!

☁️ I love how many people in the Astrology community are Scorpio risings, have dominant scorpio/8H placements/degrees, strong pluto influence like we’re all trying to find the meaning to all the f*ck shit that happens in our lives

☁️ Another dominance that I see in a natal chart that is really into these practices is Uranus and Neptune.

☁️ Lilith dominance in a natal chart can be rough especially when they make conjunctions to mars or Pluto. Men can sometimes be so mean to you especially when you both are around other people and you’re just like what just happened 😃? You were just telling me your deepest secrets and desires?? Odd… Á la poubelle 🚮

☁️ Speaking of Lilith, I get annoyed hearing that certain asteroids like Lilith and Chiron aren’t considered a part of a stellium 🙄 because if you can have Lilith dominance in your chart you should be able to consider it a part of your stellium as well? Same with Chiron. If there’s many aspects to those signs as well and if everything is energetically interconnected like astrology tries to show us, you would think those two asteroids at most would be considered. Especially because these asteroids play significant roles in HEALING *cough Chiron cough* and stepping into your power (Lilith). Both asteroids take a shorter amount of time to orbit the sun than most outer planets and some inner planets likeee cmon y’all.. me complaining because I’d technically have a Sagittarius stellium if Chiron and Lilith was included

☁️ Whatever quadrant(s) the majority of your placements fall in is what you are meant to focus on in this life. In the last quadrant, your focus could be on the world around you, humanitarian causes. A lot of planets in your first quadrant your mission in this lifetime is to be more self focused.

☁️ Intercepted houses are interesting... I’m very thankful I don’t have them because my chart is already 😀😗 .. yea. But I realized I’ve come across a lot of people with them and those houses if you don’t know already have a lot of focus on the house it pertains to. Example: intercepted houses in the 1st and 7th house means one of your life’s mission is learning how to assert yourself, set boundaries, find balance in relationships and your free time.

☁️ People that have intercepted houses usually attract people that has signs that rule those houses to teach them significant life lessons. So if you have 1st and 7th intercepted you’ll have someone who probably has Aries/libra in big three or within their chart , if you have 2nd and 8th you’ll attract someone with Taurus/Scorpio in big three or in their chart etc etc

☁️ If you’re feeling unstable it’s best to connect with the element you have most dominant in your chart. Whether it’s literally connecting to that element by physically interacting with it or you are doing the themes in relation to that element. This also applies to whatever sign your mars is in. Surrounding yourself with the element associated with your mars can allow you to release and ground yourself.

☁️ For instance, if you have a lot of water in your chart/water mars, swimming or being by the water and journaling, drawing, whatever creative outlet feels most healing to you by the water can bring you some peace. Talking to the ocean, lake, etc. can be grounding and if you’re really into esoteric practices you can give the water an offering in exchange for peace of mind. Earth, going on a hike, feeling the earth (not concrete yuck) with your bare soles/palms can be helpful, hugging and talking to trees. (Side note fun fact, removing vines that are wrapping a tree is also like an offering because vines growing around trees are invasive and preventing it from receiving sunlight, ultimately killing it. Save your local trees!! I see this as a form of an offering as well) Mother trees will help you most. Fire, first and foremost please be careful. Secondly, working with candles can be very healing and watching the light, taking walks when it’s really sunny, sun bathing, solar plexus yoga could bring much peace. Sun bathing your yoni when the sun is at its peak :) it really works. Air, burning incense whilst having good air ventilation, journaling, stimulating activities like running or jogging while simultaneously working on the breath. Breath work, mental workouts like chess. I might do a post about all Mars signs and specific activity outlets. Lmk in the comments if you guys would be interested :)

☁️ To break out of your comfort zone, to attract newness into your life, connect with the element you have least in your chart!

☁️ The element you have least of is what you tend to attract in others

☁️ People that connect more to sidereal astrology usually have some old soul-ness to them. I’ve observed it’s usually modern Astrology earth placements, mostly Taurus placements that tend to value that system more from what I’ve seen

☁️ I’ve noticed water sign placements/dominance like anime and k-pop a lot. Honorary mention is Aquarius but more towards anime.

☁️ I saw @harmoonix say this in one of their posts recently but this has been sitting in my drafts for over a month so I’m gonna agree and add on lol (love ur posts fr— trendsetter 💐) Aquarius placements, especially in the big 3, love video games. Love playing games on their phone and on a console. Love technology, it’s their safe space— a way to get away from the world. Aquarius does rule over technology! They’re the most tech savvy in the family. Their elders in their home relied on them for that stuff lol.

☁️ Sagittarius placements, esp mercury usually have different genres and languages of music in their catalog

☁️ For Sagittarius to be in detriment in Mercury that placement has many fantastic writers, poets, lyricists etc.

☁️ Earth placements, especially Capricorns can out smoke you. Out-any-substance you fr it’s actually crazy to witness 😂😂.

☁️ Your Groom (5129) or Briede (19029) in your natal chart can not only show the actual sign or house placements that your partner may have but the synastry overlays you both may have as well. For example you may have your groom asteroid in the sign virgo. Your spouses natal placements especially big 3 could have those planets fall into your sixth house. Virgo rules the sixth house.

☁️ This picture above is all Libra placements during this south node in Libra transit. The area Libra resides will show up and out! Villain era fr. Big 3 Libra placements will feel this way the most! This transit has me not giving ANY f*cks!

☁️ Your solar return rising sign is very important. It will tell you the themes that will take place in the new year ahead. For example: Virgo rising in your solar return has you more work and health focused. Should I make a post about solar return risings lmk in the comments!

☁️ It’s also interesting that your rising and moon sign in your solar return chart can pertain who you most come into contact with during. So if your rising is Leo that year you’ll probably befriend, get closer to, date many Leo’s or people that have Leo placements/degrees in their chart :). I can confirm that within each ascendant I have had in my returns since studying astrology the people I was closer to/in contact more with during the time period had those placements in big three especially.

☁️ not an observation but a statement of a dilemma of mine because I cannot choose between placidus and whole sign system. I deeply relate to both. I thankfully don’t have intercepted houses but I can see both sides to the placements in my chart and the different houses they reside in with both systems 😂 ok moving on

☁️ I use placidus house system mostly when I’m reading other people’s chart and whole sign when I’m reading compatibility charts

☁️ placidus is a better system to use for most people because we live in different hemispheres and that system caters to that imo

☁️ I realize most Pisces and Sagittarius placements loveeee green. It’s that Jupiter calling in that abundance!

☁️ Scorpio and Aries are ruled by mars and I have realized people with these placements like purple a lot. Capricorn placements tend to like purple too and cap is exalted in mars! Purple and black are associated with satur(n)day!

☁️ Saw an observation about sag mercuries always interrupt you and it’s true LMAO but they’re very passionate people and I think they just wanna get what they have to say off their chest

☁️ Sagittarius mercuries are the smartest Mercury sign imo.

☁️ Pisces placements especially in the big three are very crafty when it comes to talking their way out of being held accountable

☁️ Being around people that have the signs in your 2nd and 8th house can easily trigger you if you’re not actively working on healing your wounds

☁️ I haven’t met an air sign that doesn’t speak with their face and hands especially Gemini chile

☁️ Mars rules celibacy, Venus rules lust. I realize that people with strong Aries/Scorpio/Capricorn are not into having sex with multiple people simultaneously or can go long periods without having sex. They view sex as a very intimate activity.

☁️ hate to come down on my Venusians but Taurus and Libras and let’s not forget about my girl is exalted in Pisces! People with strong placements in these signs can be loyal but sometimes there can be wandering eyes. Like an itch they want to scratch so bad. Even if they’re very loyal in nature it’s more possible for them to flirt for fun or get into affairs more because they’re hedonistic in nature

☁️ when a Capricorn loves you they will always have your back and put into you financially to help your dreams come true. One of the most attentive , supportive people to have in your corner!

🪽 I wanted to post this sooner but I’m currently grieving the loss of my Capricorn dominant grandmother who was my closest confidant and greatest inspiration, about a month ago. She passed during her Saturn return and Uranus return. She lived an incredible life. Strongest, most fearless person I know. An entrepreneur who knew how to get it! Some people didn’t make it into the new year with us and I hope you know that you have now gained an angel. I’m grateful to the Tumblr astrology community for sharing their knowledge. Astrology really helps me make sense of the world and I’m happy that we all find peace in that. Sending my love and best wishes to you all. Thank you for reading and tuning in xoxo 🪽

#astro notes #astrology observations #astrology #astro observations #capricorn #libra #aries #scorpio #sagittarius #lilith astrology #chiron astrology #solar return observations #pisces

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obsessedelusional · 1 year

Text

Your Pretend Boyfriend

paring ✦ Eddie Munson x reader

summary ✦ You back from college, visiting during thanksgiving break. Jason Carver has always liked you the feelings not mutual. So when you catch him harassing Eddie you pretend to be his girlfriend. What happens with your pretend boyfriend? CONTAINS SMUT

word count ✦ 3,200ish

authors note ✦ BRO I’m almost to 300 followers and 5000+ likes omg y’all are tooooo sweeet to me hope y’all enjoy this

masterlist ✦ PART TWO

FEEDBACK AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!!

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

The sound of your someone calling for you takes your gaze away from your phone. Looking up expecting to see your best friend. The two of you had plans to meet at this restaurant to catch up. You were in town visiting during thanksgiving break.

To your dissatisfaction it’s none other than Jason Carver. You groan annoyed knowing where this was headed. You’re parents were close and they always rooted for the two of you to end up together. Not a single part of you wanted anything to do with him. He was a few years younger than you. Also the worst human being on planet earth.

“You visiting for break?” He smiles leaning on the wall where you’re standing.

“Yup.” You say with no emotions, giving your full attention on your phone. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of giving him any attention.

“What brings you here?”

“Meeting someone.” You answer eyes still on your phone, scrolling on something random. Pretending to be busy.

“Who?” He ask curiously.

“Can we skip to the part where you say something nasty, I tell you to fuck off and then you leave me alone?” You spit out, disregarding his previous question.

“We should hookup while your in town, give you some good ol dickin’ down. I’m sure those college boys can’t fuck you like I would.” There it is.

“For the millionth time that will never happen.” You respond, desperately waiting for your friend to arrive.

“Sheesh have you’ve always been such a bitch?” He laughs. When you don’t respond Jason walks off deflated.

You pray that is the end of that. Only for him to find his next victim. A curly headed boy you definitely remember, Eddie. It’d be hard to forget someone like him. Jason hated him, for whatever reason which made you gravitate towards him. You two were never all that close only exchanging hellos in the hallways. Occasionally bonding over your hatred of Jason. More than once telling Jason to leave their group alone.

Just as your deep in thought, thinking about Munson your phone dings. It’s the friend you were waiting for, she’s canceling on you. Her two year olds sick and can’t make it. You sigh out loud annoyed but understanding, typing a quick response.

You’re attention goes back to Eddie and Jason. Eddie was sat by himself, probably waiting for someone. Jason is giving him shit for being at a restaurant all by himself. It crosses your mind for a second and before you can realize how bad this idea is your on your way to Eddie’s table.

“Hey babe,” You smile greeting Eddie, confusion immediately spreads across his face. You mouth ‘just go along with it’ as you sit down next to him, careful so Jason doesn’t see. You plant a small kiss on his cheek, his confusion turns to a grin.

“Hey princess,” His arm slings around your shoulder. The pet name sends a heat through your body, you quickly push that away. You look up to Jason who’s slack-jawed.

“There’s no fucking way.” He whines.

“What?” You ask playing dumb.

“There’s no fucking way you two are dating.” Jason responds.

“We’ve been dating for six months, right babe?” You ask nuzzling yourself deeper into Eddie’s embrace.

“Almost seven.” He smiles, proudly.

“We actually have you to thank for that. Bumped into each other, bonded over our dislike for you. Been inseparable since.” You laugh because Jason looks pissed making this so worth it. He goes to speak but can’t get anything out, obviously frustrated.

“We’re gonna have a quick little lunch. Then head back to his place so he can give a good ol dickn’ down. That’s what you called it right?” You watch as Jason’s eyes go wide, full of pure disgust before running out of the restaurant. Once he’s out of hearing range you start erupting out in laughter, Eddie joining you.

“That was amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so speechless.” Eddie talks catching his breath from laughing so hard.

“I can’t stand him. He’s been up my ass for as long as I can remember. Saw the opportunity and took it.” You respond, looking over to Eddie’s who’s arm still rests on your shoulder. He notices you noticing and pulls away.

“You don’t have an actual girlfriend right? Otherwise this’d be kinda awkward.” You ask.

“Yeah actually I do.” Unknowingly your face falls, upset that he does.

“We met six months ago been inseparable since.” He teases, you roll your eyes realizing what he means. A silence falls over you two and you can’t help but feel like you’ve overstayed your welcome.

“I’ll leave you be. Thanks for participating in my antics.” You smile standing up from the table.

“I just got myself a girlfriend I ain’t letting you so quick.” You turn to face Eddie.

“We’ve been dating for all of five minutes and it’s the best relationship I’ve ever had.” He smiles, motioning for you to sit back down. Your intrigued so you sit down, this time on the other side of the booth.

“Are you sure? Someone’s not gonna show up and be upset I’m here?” You ask, seriously not wanting to impose.

“Don’t worry about it. Plans canceled.” He shoots you a smile before pulling his phone out, typing away for a moment.

“You really don’t have to do that.”

“Hang out with my beautiful older college girlfriend? Whom I only see during school breaks. Or hangout with my friends I see everyday at school? Uhhhh I think I’ll choose my girlfriend.” His words bring a cheesy grin to your lips.

“Okay I guess I can stay and enjoy lunch with my boyfriend.” You sigh, pretending like it’s an inconvenience for you. In reality your happy, your plans fell through and now your sat across from a long haired tatted hottie.

“How old are you? Not trying to catch a case.” You tease almost positive he’s of legal age. Better safe then sorry.

“19.” He responds between laughing at your joke.

—

Lunch with Eddie was amazing, part of you grateful your friend canceled on you last minute. You feel an instant connection, not wanting the date to end quite yet. The two of you are walking out of the restaurant, hand in hand. Your brain scrambling for an excuse to prolong this date.

“So what was that comment you made about a good ol dickin’ down about?” Eddie asks and almost immediately it’s like a light bulb goes off your head.

“Jason’s been trying to make the moves on me since forever. Just before I joined my boyfriend our date he offered to do that me.” You laugh, you’re not sure where you two are headed just following Eddie’s lead.

“You and Jason, you never?”

“Never ever.”

“That’s crazy. I remember rumors went around about the two of you dating all the time.” He says, processing this new information. Jason Carver wanted you yet you were her with Eddie. He was excited by that thought but at the same time puzzled.

“Started by him. He made my high school experience hell.” You admit.

“Same here.” He sighs, you two reaching his van. Realizing this is where the date either continues or ends.

“Should we keep our story going?” You ask. Noticing Jason sat in his car with his friends, he’s watching the two of you. If he wants to watch, you’d give him a show. Mostly for own selfish desires.

“What?” He asks so you nod in the direction of Jason car full of jocks, watching Eddie’s gaze move from you to them.

“I told Jason we’d have a little lunch and then go your place where’d you give me a good ol dickin’ down.” You cringe at the usage of Jason’s phrase. Eddie’s attention whips back to you because of the words coming from your mouth.

“Gotta make it believable, right?”

“Yeah.” He says. Eddie is hesitant not because he doesn’t want to but because he can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic. You push him towards his van, his back hitting it makes a loud thud. If they weren’t looking they are now.

You get closer, closing the gap between you two. Reaching for his hair, running your fingers through it. You had been wanting to do this since you sat at his table. Wishing he’d call you princess again.

“Is this okay?” You ask to which Eddie nods eagerly. Without missing a beat you kiss him. Softly at first, testing the waters. Eddie melts into your touch, his hand reaching around sliding his hands in your butt pockets. He pulls you closer into him, squeezing your ass in the process. Causing you to let out a little gasp surprised by his bravery. He smiles mid kiss only making you want more. The kisses becoming more aggressive, the wetness starting to pool in your panties.

“Get a fucking room, freaks!” Jason yells and then the sound of tires screeching past you two startles you momentarily. You pull away, grinning. Eddie’s eyes are closed, the biggest smile on his face.

“Still don’t think it’s believable enough.” You say, sighing your tone suggestive.

“Really?” Eddie asks, sounding confused.

You roll your eyes, “Your beautiful older college girlfriend wants a good ol dickn’ down.”

“You.. want me to-” He stutters, stopping before you finish for him.

“I want you to fuck me.” His dick twitches in his jeans because of the six words that came out of your mouth.

“Do you want that?” You ask.

“Yes.” He gulps, excited for what’s coming. Hopefully him soon. He opens the car door for you, you climb inside disregarding the fact that you drove yourself here. Your horny brain fogging your mind deciding in the moment you’d figure it out later.

This wasn’t like you, you never hooked up with someone so shortly after getting to know them. You couldn’t help but feel like something about this situation was different. Eddie was different, like a good different.

It’s a very short but also painfully long drive to his home. Eddie’s never been so thankful for his uncle to be out of town, couldn’t of picked a better time to leave him home alone. The drive is mostly silent, filled with music and stealing glances at each other.

As soon as Eddie parks at his home he’s out of the car running to your door, letting you out. He grabs your hand leading you to the front door. Where he struggles for a few moments to find the right key. Once inside, he shuts the door behind you before facing you. His hands press firmly on your ass to lift you, your legs straddling his body. This time he’s the one to initiate the kiss, carrying you to wherever. You didn’t care as long as Eddie was there.

For a moment your startled when he drops you on his bed. Your allowed a quick glance around his room, taking it in before you look up to see Eddie. He’s shirtless now and his shoes are missing. So you follows in his steps ripping your shoes off. When you go to take your shirt off he stops you with a intense kiss before doing it himself, then unhooks you bra exposing your bare chest.

He pulls away to take in the view, “Fuck you’re beautiful.”

Eddie smashes his lips on yours pushing you back into the bed before kissing down you neck only to stop at your nipple. The sensation is enough for you to let out a sweet moan slightly arching you back into him. Mouth still attached to you while his hands are busy unbuttoning your pants, pulling them down quickly along with your panties.

You curse your self for not wearing something sexier but you had no idea this where’d you be today. Part of you embarrassed you haven’t shaved in a while. Your worries are immediately put at ease when he spreads your thighs, letting his head rest between them.

“Beautiful.” Her murmurs before placing a sugary kiss on your clit, sending a shockwave through your body. His tongue begins rubbing against your bud. Without thinking your hands find his hair, pushing him deeper between your folds. Your head falls back, moans leaving you lips. When you think it can’t get any better, he slips a long strong finger in your pussy. Pumping into you the same pace as his tongue that is still toying with your clit.

“More please-“ You whine and Eddie listens adding another finger, stretching you out. Your a mess under his touch. Never once has a man prioritized your pleasure. You’ve become masterful at giving yourself orgasms. The feeling of it being at the hands of someone else unfamiliar. A good unfamiliarity.

“Fuckk- Eddie I’m..” Your words turn into strangled moans, a tightness growing in your stomach. Your breath hitches as you pulsate on his thick fingers, your eyes rolling back as you come undone. Your busy riding out your high but the feeling of his fingers leaving you brings you back down to reality. His laps up your juices one last time before speaking.

“Mm so sweet.” Eddie purrs sucking on his own two fingers that were covered in your juices. They leave his mouth with a popping sound as he sits up in the bed.

“My turn.” You say barley audible sitting up reaching for the button on his jeans. Wanting nothing more than to wrap your lips around his cock. He stops your hands causing you to look up to Eddie, you cant help but pout.

“I don’t think I’ll last long with your pretty lips sucking me off right now. Next time, okay?” You nod smiling at the thought there’d be a next time. Eddie kisses you pushing your head back onto the bed. Only pulling away to pull his pants off and grab a condom from his bed side table. You watch intently as his pulls down his boxers, revealing his cock. You let out a gasp as it hits his stomach, never once had you seen one this big. Eddie smiles at your reaction while unwrapping the condom. Slowly rolling it over the tip of his dick and down the entirety of his hard length.

Eddie gets back on top of you, spreading your legs. He lets the tip rest on you swollen clit before dragging it down to your hole. Slowly, inch by inch you adjust to his size. He bottoms out, you let out a whimper because you’ve never felt fuller. He uses his hands to lift your thighs up so he can get better angle before starting a slow motion. Pumping in and out of you at a painfully slow pace, only making you desperate for him to pick up the pace.

He leans down to your level, his head resting in the crook of your neck. Your chest being flattened by his. One hand rests at the back of his neck, tightening in his hair and the other hands digs into his back as he bucks his hip harder into you. He’s thrusting harder but you desperately need him faster.

“Faster- please.” You say and it comes out as a whine. You get exactly what you want because he pushed up so he can see you before recklessly pounding into you cunt faster than before. He guides your hands so you can hold your own legs up, using his free hand to find your clit running circles around it sloppily.

“How does that feel princess?” He grunts between thrusts, his finger still playing with your bud. You can’t help but smile at the pet name. He finally said it again. When you don’t respond he rocks his hips harder and you start feeling that tightening in your stomach again.

“Fuck.” You cry out, knowing you’re about to cum for the second time. The sensation of your pussy throbbing on his cock as you get closer to finishing nearly sends him over the edge but he’s determined to make you cum again. His fingers work more tactically on your clit which is just enough to have you gushing on his dick.

“Good girl.” He groans. Not even a second later he’s cumming inside the condom, inside you. Suddenly wishing that thin little layer of latex wasn’t there so you could feel his seed coat your inner walls. He kisses you sweetly one last time before pulling out and falling next to you. His chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath. You rest on his chest, listening to his heart beat.

“Was that believable?” He asks, out of breath.

“What?” You ask confused to drunk on dick to comprehend.

“Was that a good ol dickin’ down?” He laughs. You roll your eyes before nodding your head, yes.

—

The next two weeks we’re spent under and on top of Eddie Munson any chance you got. Dreading the fact that when break came to an end you’d have to head back to school. It was a three hour drive from Hakwins. You just got Eddie and couldn’t imagine having to let go so soon.

Eddie was so grateful Wayne left for the two weeks during thanksgiving break. He had a whole two weeks of uninterrupted time with you. He tried hard no to think about the fact you’d be leaving him in a short time. If he thought about it too much he’d upset himself, usually pushing the thoughts away focusing on the time he did have with you. So to say he was surprised when you invited him to have thanksgiving dinner with your family would be an understatement.

When you found out Eddie would be spending thanksgiving day alone you didn’t hesitate to invite him. Your heart felt for him when he admitted he never really celebrated holidays with Wayne always working. You were determined to make it perfect.

Explaining to you parents why this random dude was coming over on thanksgiving dinner was the hardest part. Only for Eddie to introduce him self as your boyfriend of seven months. They look at you like ‘what the fuck’ to which only caused you to laugh. Cursing yourself for not get your stories straight. More than happy to continue the bit but wished you could of prepared better.

“So how’d you two meet them?” Your father asks curiously. You both say different answers. You blurt out high school and he says you two met at a restaurant.

“We’ll we went to high school together, knew of each other. Ran into each other at Danny’s Dinner and hit it off.” You explain further, their faces telling that they don’t believe anything coming out of your mouth. They never question any further, thankfully.

—

Todays the dreaded day. The day you leave for college. You had already said your goodbyes to your family. Deciding what time you had left would be spent with Eddie. The two of you had just finished fucking for possibly the last time. Your brain had been heavily worried about what would happen when you left. It’s now or never, you need to ask him.

“I’m gonna miss you.” Eddie sighs. You sit up to face him, he’s laid in bed looking at the roof.

“I’ll miss you too. What are we doing?” You ask, trying to read his reaction. He looks at you with a smile.

“I don’t know about you but I’ve been faithfully committed to you for the last seven months.” He teases.

“I’m being serious Eddie.” You groan.

“Me too, princess.”

“So we are-?” You start to ask and he interrupts.

“Yes we are. Your all mine.” He kisses you.

“All yours.” You melt into his kiss, fucking one more time.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson pov #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie imagine #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie stranger things #eddie x y/n #eddie x you #eddie smut #smut #stranger things #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4

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