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gutsby · 2 months

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Hating Game

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Celebrating your dad’s birthday at the yacht club becomes damn near unbearable when Joel Miller brings a date along too. Jealousy and hate sex ensue.

Warnings: 18+. Food fight turned hatefuck (don’t ask). Cockwarming and semi-public sex on the bridge deck. Oral (m! and f!receiving). Daddy kink. Dirty talk. Age gap. C*mplay. Katoptronophilia. Orgasm denial. One risqué Viagra joke. Drinking games. Descriptions of vomiting. Joel cockwarming you while smoking a cigarette <3

Part 1 | Part 3

"Can ya try that one more time, sweet pea? For daddy?"

You can. Try, anyway. Controlling your tongue while he’s buried so deep inside you is a far harder task than expected, though. Especially when he’s so still.

Joel sees it. Feeling a twinge of pity, he leans over your body and digs his hips even deeper—not thrusting, but still granting a modicum of friction as he takes another drag of his cigarette. The hot, heavy throb of his girth pulses like your own fucking heartbeat, and your eyes roll back.

An orangutan on roller skates would’ve had more grace.

A grizzly bear in hibernation might’ve been more lively.

A fucking cross-eyed octopus reciting Shakespeare would’ve been less strange, alarming, and painfully awkward to see than your father’s best friend the week after he’d railed you senseless in the front seat of his car.

Joel Miller had shown up with a date, for Christ’s sake.

Of course, you’d been three cocktails deep and playing stack cup with a random group of gentlemen on the bridge deck at the time, but that was almost immaterial. This was your dad’s fifty-first birthday party—one of the rowdiest nights the Austin Yacht Club had yet to see—and yeah, you planned on getting belligerently shitfaced on Dirty Shirleys and obscene amounts of catered food.

You’d never thought to bring a date of your own, though.

That was just distasteful and crass, all things considered.

Presently, you slammed your ping pong ball to the tabletop and watched it make a wide arc over your cup.

“Fuckfuckfuuuuuck,” you whispered low as the man four spots down made it in, and the man after him bounced the ball straight into his own on the first go. He moved the tall, swaying stack of red Solos immediately to your right, and you knew from the jump you were fucked.

Tommy Miller was a master at stack. You could already see the sly smile on his face from the corner of your eye.

Just as Mötley Crüe gave way to Hall & Oates on the speakers overhead, Joel’s brother crammed his stack of cups over your own and made a smug, triumphant bow.

“All you, kid,” he grinned and slid the second to last cup in your direction.

You could’ve cursed his whole bloodline, Joel included.

There was no way in hell you were getting stuck with death cup again—the last, cruel punishment for the loser of the game a mix of three different types of liquor, soda, and a spritz of Natty Light. Filled to the brim and waiting to be downed by whoever didn’t sink the final shot.

You squared your shoulders and locked the fuck in.

Bounced the ball once. Twice. Christ, this was hard. The man to your left was struggling too, but he seemed just as determined and twice as skilled, and you were pretty buzzed. A second later, he made it in and, of course, slid it right back to Tommy, who was practically overcome with laughter.

“MILLER! MILLER! MILLER!” Men were not creative when it came to chants. Or beating fists on furniture.

“Quit shakin’ the shit!” Tommy roared, tapping his ping pong ball deftly onto the table’s surface.

You blinked a few hazy, anxious thoughts out of your head and tried with everything in you not to miss this shot. The instrumental bridge of ‘Maneater’ was sinking its teeth in your soul and taunting your nerves to no end.

You took the ball, swallowed hard, watched the cup, and flicked your wrist, at last, from a singularly perfect angle.

The ball was a millisecond away from making it in.

Tommy Fuckstick Miller managed to stack you first.

A chorus of obnoxious, wholly drunk howls rang loud in your ears, and suddenly, the attention was back on you, the unhappy victim of the game’s most gruesome drink.

You didn’t hesitate. You pinched your nose and guzzled from the cup before the torment could go on any longer.

You did well at first.

Opened your throat like a pro and cleared it down to the last fourth of the drink, to the point where you could see the slick white bottom side of the cup clear as day.

Your mouth had just flooded with the final draught of death cup when a familiar guitar riff caught you off guard.

You weren’t sure why it had to happen that way, but after being forced to listen to the song some five thousand times on your road trip with Joel, the tenor of Billy Joel’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard to you now. Grating. Nauseating.

Vomit-inducing.

Swiftly, you ran to the nearest railing and lost your last drink—and your whole dinner—over the side of the boat.

You yakked into Lake Travis like you never had before.

And, just as that stupid, forever-tainted song surged on, you heard footsteps approaching. A moment’s pause. Then a hand on your back. Patting gently and, seconds later, lowering a cup of water to the side of your head.

Your face was still dangling upside down off the yacht. You didn’t want to be touched.

“Go to hell, Tommy,” you muttered.

“You first,” he said, chuckling.

You didn’t sit so much as slump back onto the deck with your head in your hands. The whole boat had gone sideways in your mind, and Tommy’s outstretched arm looked more like a bubbling lump than a friendly gesture.

You groaned at the sight of the cup and shook your head.

“I’m alright, okay. I’m good.”

Then, when the cup didn’t waver:

“Can they change the fucking song already?!”

Tommy cocked a brow and squatted down next to you. He set the water aside.

“Got a problem with dad rock or somethin’?” he smirked.

You shook your head no—it wasn’t the music that was making you sick but the man Tommy called his brother that made you wanna vomit again. The thought of that man tangled up with a svelte brunette who looked fresh off the cover of Sports Illustrated when he couldn’t even be bothered to shoot you a text after the condom broke last week. Like he just didn’t give a shit if you were alive, dead, or pregnant with his child. Unfortunately, you had nothing more to throw up, and your eyes were on fire.

Tommy slung an arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side. Took a handkerchief out of his pocket.

“No more Dirty Shirleys for you, young lady,” he chided, dabbing lightly at the tears that had trickled out.

“No more men for me,” you grumbled quietly.

You couldn’t see it then, but you could feel him trying not to smile. He tugged you closer.

“Boy trouble, huh?” he said, “Whose ass needs kickin’?”

Your brother, actually. Curb stomp that fucker, please.

You shrugged instead.

“Some guy from school.”

Tommy nodded, waiting for you to elaborate. When you didn’t, he just assumed you wanted to keep it to yourself—which you did—and squeezed your shoulder softly.

“Well…you know you’ve got your dad, me, and Joel to beat the shit outta any guy, any time, any place, right?”

You wished it were that simple. You wiped your nose and nodded all the same.

“And…” Tommy started again, working slow to get you back on your feet, “Most guys your age don’t know their ass from their fuckin’ elbow, honeybun. Don’t take it too personal if he’s dumb enough to lose a gem like you.”

The corners of your lips twitched slightly at his words. Almost smiling by the time he had you up on your feet.

“Thanks, Tommy.”

“Anytime, kiddo.”

You might’ve rolled your eyes when he pinched your cheek, but the water he held back up for you to drink looked far too appetizing, and you knew he meant well. You took the cup from him and started to chug.

Again, you’d almost made it through the whole refreshment when a sound threw you off. Abruptly.

“Where have you two lovebirds been?!” Tommy chirped.

You lowered your water and almost regurgitated again. Bile jumped up in your throat, and you just narrowly managed to keep it all down with a cough and a sputter.

Joel and Ms. Centerfold were at the far end of the deck.

Joel was tucking his dress shirt back into his pants.

Are you fucking kidding me?

“Gettin’ nasty on her daddy’s yacht? That’s bold,” Tommy cackled, nudging you playfully.

Your face was bloodless. Every last ounce of pretense and decorum had spilled out with your dinner, before, and now you were just staring at Joel blankly. Numb.

You watched him shove the last clump of his shirt under the waistband and straighten up slightly. The woman at his side flashed you and Tommy a blinding white smile.

“Might say the same for you,” she called back. She seemed to be eyeing you both with a half-curious look.

Tommy made a face as if to say ‘yuck—what the fuck?’ and threw his arm around you again, shaking you lightly.

“She’s like my little sister, Ashton. You’re fuckin’ gross.”

Little sister. Nice. Like a knife twisting inside your gut.

If Joel took any notice of the comment, he didn’t show it. He just stood there, dull and impassive as a loaf of bread. Every coarse lineament of his face was unreadable—just as bleak, bland, and uncaring as the eyes staring out of it. Then he fished around in his back pocket and pulled out his lighter and a pack of American Spirits. He passed the latter to Ashton and leaned over to give her a light.

Throwing yourself off the boat seemed like the most logical next move out of anything available to you.

That’s when you knew you were off your shit and needed to leave the bridge deck—immediately.

“Need a drink,” you mumbled, starting off the other way.

Tommy was hot on your heels, following fast after you.

“That’s— that’s actually the last thing you need, I think, sweetie. How ‘bout some lemonade?”

“Can you spike it with bleach?”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Tommy followed you down the staircase straight through to the galley, past the throngs and pockets of partygoers crowding the main dining area. Hitting the bar was a bad idea—wait staff knew you well enough to sense when you were utterly trashed, sad, or both—so you slipped toward the wine cooler and quickly sidestepped Tommy.

“No! No way. Nuh-uh.” He was still trying to block your access to the fridge when you grabbed hold of the door.

“Hair of the dog, Thomas.”

“That’s not a thing. That’s— you just projectile vomited off the deck, dude. You need a breather.”

You stopped just long enough to let Tommy pry you off the refrigerator handle and back to the kitchen island. You were pissed off, sure, but also not nearly prepared for another drop of alcohol if you were being honest with yourself. Your head was still spinning when you sat down on the counter.

Once you were settled, Tommy got to rifling through the cabinets, and you pressed a hand to your forehead.

“So how long’s that been going on?” You couldn’t help it.

“Wha- oh, Joel and Ash?” Tommy hummed from deep inside a cupboard. He came out with a small blue box.

You winced at the nickname. Watched him go from the pantry to the sink, fill a glass halfway, find a spoon, and tear the box in two, along with a couple chalky tablets.

“They’ve been…weird.” The sentence was punctuated with a pinch of his brow and a frown. He started stirring.

“Weird how?”

Your feet were dangling over the edge of the island; you pretended to gain a sudden interest in a smudge on the toe of your shoe.

“Weird like…I don’t know,” Tommy tossed the spoon in the sink and turned back to you. Holding out the cup, “They’ve been ‘friendly’ for years—Ash is a coworker of ours—and Joel swears it’s nothing more…but I dunno.”

He ended his speech again with that weird intonation and grimace, like he wasn’t so sure if he believed what he was saying himself, then shook his head and shrugged. He watched you take a sip of the Alka-Seltzer and urged you to get the whole thing down. It tasted like shit.

“Christ, that’s salty,” you coughed.

You didn’t want to keep going, but Tommy tipped the glass back in your hand and made you finish.

“It’ll help with your stomach,” he said before strolling over to the caterers’ fridge to look for bland food options.

“So if they’re not a thing, why’d he bring her here?”

You didn’t care what Tommy thought of your questions. He knew you were eager to hear the tea in any situation.

You watched as your friend procured a hand of bananas and some bread. He gave the fruit to you and took the bread over to the toaster, where he dropped in two slices. You couldn’t quite tell if he was contemplating an answer, didn’t want to spill, or hadn’t heard the question at all. He snagged a plate and a butter knife while you peeled apart your snack, silently dying to know the truth.

At length, Tommy shrugged. Again.

“‘Cause Joel’s a goddamn drama queen and doesn’t know what he wants, I s’pose,” he said.

Ain’t that the truth.

Then, after a minute:

“Had his panties in a wad ever since he went to Boston.”

You stiffened hearing that. You couldn’t pretend to be invested in your shoe scuff, the floor, or the food in your hand any longer. Your eyes flitted up to Tommy to see if his expression had shifted any.

It hadn’t—he was just looking for strawberry jam.

“You hitched a ride home with him then, didn’t you?” he asked casually.

You swallowed and nodded. You watched Tommy retrieve the two freshly-warmed pieces of toast that jumped up to greet him and, having found the jam he wanted, slapped them both on a plate and lathered them up. You muttered a quiet ‘thank you’ as he slid them over.

You were almost too scared to ask more questions, but you knew you had to find out. About Joel, Ashton, anything Tommy might’ve gleaned about your trip home from Boston. You found you could hardly sit in one place and had to step off the counter to eat your food.

“Joel’s been, uhh…how do Gen Z’s say it? Trippin’ balls?” Tommy reached for a banana himself and started in.

“Tweaking,” you corrected him.

“Tweakin’, yeah. Joel’s been a real fuckin’ tweaker lately.”

“In what way?”

“Just…shuttin’ himself in is all. Wouldn’t talk to me or your dad or anybody for days after he got back. Didn’t show up for our monthly Bingo matchup at Mando’s—and he hasn’t missed one of those in almost six years.”

You pursed your lips, equally mystified. You knew just how seriously your dad and his friends took those games—how rare it was for Joel to turn down any opportunity to drink, play Star Wars-themed Bingo, and shoot the shit with his buddies over Coors Light and cheese curds. You took another bite and waited for Tommy to continue.

“And there’s— there was this…thing he— I dunno.”

Suddenly, it seemed your friend had lost the power of coherent speech, and he was rubbing the back of his neck, flashing a half-sheepish smile, and shaking his head. Contemplating whether he should share something with you and ultimately deciding against it.

You raised both eyebrows.

“What?”

“Nah, it’s dumb, really.”

“Tell me.” You took a far-too-large bite of your banana and had some trouble getting it down.

“Well, he…” Tommy trailed off, shifting his gaze from yours to take a look at his own shoe, for a second, “When me and your dad were riding with Joel to a work site…we, uh…found a box of Plan B in his glove compartment.”

Half-chewed banana and toast almost flew across the room while you spluttered and choked and just barely managed to cover your mouth to keep it all in.

“Right? Threw me for a loop, too,” Tommy grinned as you beat your chest with a fist and fought to keep yourself breathing, “Your dad damn near had a baby when he picked that little box and those booty shorts up himself.”

When he what?! You wanted to scream, just picturing your straight-laced, conservative father flipping a Plan B box between his hands, in shock, and then…your shorts—when the fuck had you taken your shorts off again?

Right, when you were busy trying to scoop some more of Joel’s jizz from your cunt as he raced you both to CVS.

Good times.

You held your hair back and leaned over the sink, spitting two more chunks of banana and bread down the drain. Tommy reached around behind you for the spigot and filled another glass with water as he tried not to laugh.

“Easy, now,” he said, patting your back like he’d done for you before, “Joel didn’t happen to mention this lady friend to you now, did he?”

“No,” you choked. You wiped your mouth clear of any spit and food residue and slowly blinked down into the sink, feeling an old wave of nausea begin to settle over you. Accepted the new glass of water from Tommy and hoped he wouldn’t notice the tremor in your hand as you did.

The man seemed completely oblivious. Still standing close behind you, Tommy rubbed circles in your back and leaned a little closer.

“Death cup really got ya, huh?” He smirked, and you realized then that he very much was like an older brother. This whole situation with Joel was fucked on so many levels and would be fucked tenfold if Tommy ever found out.

You turned around and felt yourself steadied between two warm, broad palms—‘Wanna sit? Lie down?’—and then you were shaking your head, reaching for another banana and trying like hell to seem semi-composed, though every neuron in your brain was firing away at a million miles per second and your legs were feeling like scrambled eggs.

“I’m okay.”

“Yeah?”

Suddenly, one of Tommy’s hands had moved up to brush a few strands of hair from your face, and you felt your skin radiating raw heat. A deep-seated anxiety, too.

He’s going to find out—what if he already knows?

What if Joel tells Tommy?

What if Tommy tells dad?

Your mind was reeling, on fire, still working in earnest to find something to tell your friend to say you were fine, just dizzy, and definitely not fucking his big brother.

Your brain was drawing blank after blank after blank.

Just then, a clatter sounded nearby. Both of you jumped.

When you shot a look to the source of the intrusion, you nearly folded into Tommy from secondhand humiliation.

“Nice hands, feet,” the younger Miller called over to Joel, who was currently trying to recover the dozen-odd pots and pans he’d knocked over at the threshold of the room. You stared at the two in a mixture of confusion, disbelief, and disgust—the latter reserved exclusively for Joel.

You set your drink down, held your hand over your stomach, and pretended to head for the bathroom.

“Be right back,” you muttered, brushing past both men.

You knew you wouldn’t be back at all if you could help it.

Still clutching your banana in one hand and your raucously churning tummy in the other, you climbed the galley stairs fast to get back up to the bridge deck. You almost tripped over both your heels trying to make it up the steps so quick, desperate for solitude and quiet.

Another hair metal hit from the ‘80s was playing overhead, but fortunately, the deck was free of people. You stumbled over to one of the catering tables, looking helplessly for something that might settle your belly, but no, this sickness was coming straight from your head—from that insufferable munch of a man, Joel Miller.

You gingerly approached the railing behind the table and prepared yourself for another round of dry heaving.

You rested both elbows on the metal, looked out toward the dark, glassy water beneath you, then hung your head in abject defeat. You slid your tongue across the roof of your mouth and waited for the vomit to come.

The only thing that followed were footsteps.

Heavy, thunderous sounds making their way up the stairs.

“Stay back, Tommy. Please.” You raised a hand to the man approaching softly behind you, not turning your head, “That Alka-Seltzer stuff didn’t work for shit.”

“Shoulda stuck to water, sweet pea.”

That made you pivot.

Not a quick tilt of the head or a twist to the side, but a full-fledged 180-degree spin on your heels, hand to your gut, what-the-FUCK-are-you-doing-here turnaround.

You stared ahead and felt sicker than you had all night.

Then, pointing one crooked, accusatory finger his way without thinking, you hardly knew or heard what you were saying before the words came out. It sounded a little something like, “Joel, you goddamn fucking idiot.”

Joel didn’t flinch.

In fact, he seemed supremely unfazed.

He just held your fuming gaze and frowned.

“You tryin’ to fuck my little brother or somethin’?”

Your hand had closed around your banana on the table before his words had hung in the air for even a second. You flung the fruit full-force at his head, enraged.

Unfortunately, you were drunk and your aim was shit. Your yellow boomerang-like weapon of choice barely made it within three feet of its target before it glanced off a light fixture and struck the ground with a thud.

Accuracy be damned, you weren’t quite done.

“You left the fucking Plan B out for my dad to find?!”

Just when Joel tried to answer, or perhaps hurl another accusation in your direction, you stuck your hand in the closest catering tray you could find—a serving of green peas, as it was. You lobbed a handful at the man as he started to draw closer, and this time, you managed to land a pretty hefty spray. Joel only rolled his eyes.

“I didn’t leave it there—you did,” he retorted.

“My shorts, too?!”

You grabbed another fistful of peas and threw it. Joel was able to dodge it right before making it to the other end of the table. He gripped the edges of the wood in both hands and stood stern—imposingly—opposite you.

“Your shorts, your fuckin’ problem, sweets.”

Just when you reached for another green pea projectile, he surprised you and made for the tray right beside it.

Shortly, a glob of garlic mashed potatoes struck the front of your dress and slid slow, almost sluggishly down the pristine pink silk fabric before falling at your feet. Joel’s aim was evidently much better than yours.

You brushed what chunks of food you could get off your chest and pinned him with a wide, incredulous look.

“You’re a Grade A fucking asshole, you know that?”

“You’re a bit of a shithead too, potato tits.”

“FUCK you!”

“Already DID!”

You would’ve flipped the whole table if it were in your power to do so. Would’ve toppled all the tables, kicked the chairs, took a lighter to the curtains and sent the goddamned yacht down in flames if you had to—that was how much you despised the man in front of you.

Instead, you threw your hands up and stormed off.

“Maybe I will fuck Tommy!” you barked as you started toward the stairs, “I’ll fuck your brother’s brains out, and you can screw Ashton all you want, how ‘bout that?”

You’d made it about two feet before Joel grabbed hold of one of your wrists and yanked you back. You didn’t hesitate to throw a gruff—and ultimately fruitless—punch that hit him square in the chest. He didn’t budge.

“You don’t mean that,” Joel sneered. He shook your whole frame with one simple flick of his forearm.

“I’ll tap your whole bloodline like a keg, Miller. Try me.”

Again, you tried to shake him off, but the hand only constricted around you tighter. Then it was walking you backwards, slowly, almost carefully, until your back was to a wall and your eyes were searching his, angry as ever.

“You’d break your daddy’s heart with that one,” Joel said just above you, voice lowered considerably.

“Yeah?” you challenged, “Maybe if I was less of a shithead I would care what my dad thought. But I’m not. So I won’t.”

“Wasn’t talkin’ about your father, darlin’.”

Joel was good.

He was an insufferable ass and he was good.

Then you remembered the radio silence over the past seven days and the fact that he may or may not have fucked someone else earlier that night—possibly right where you were standing—and he lost all appeal real quick. You shoved him hard in the chest once more.

“Don’t play that shit with me. You, of all people—” You made as if to read him the riot act but cut yourself short, deciding it wasn’t worth your time explaining human empathy to a man who believed bootcut jeans and all things Ely Cattleman were peak fashion, and just learned what ovulation was last week. Then, sliding along the wall and trying to head to the stairs again, you felt Joel’s leg slot between your own.

“What did I do?” he said, curious.

Before you could answer, his thigh had stirred in place, grazing lightly over the spot the hem of your minidress had exposed to him. You ignored it.

“Doesn’t matter,” was your non-answer.

Joel seemed intrigued by the ambiguity and only lowered his head to get closer to yours—‘Then why’re ya so mad you’re throwin’ dinner food at me, darlin’?’—puffing warm breaths on your neck and only smiling when you flinched back. He took your response as a cue to keep pressing, both figuratively and physically.

“Just wanted attention or somethin’? That what it is?” Joel’s voice was as saccharine as it was taunting, words paired with a hand circling light across your thigh. He wasn’t moving in, and it was tearing you to shreds inside.

“Fuck your attention, and fuck you, Joel.”

Words hardly reflecting how you felt internally.

Swiftly, then, the hand at your leg was raised to your face—cupping it with a bit more force than you expected. Joel’s grin stretched even wider.

“Attention and discipline,” he mused aloud, “Two things dad never gave his little girl growin’ up, I see.”

Before you could reply, he was squeezing your face even tighter and nodding his head, as if already anticipating your answer. Then, somehow lower, “Such a filthy mouth on her, too. Never knows when to keep it shut and how to be polite to someone who fucked her so nice already.”

You might’ve whimpered if you didn’t also want to throat punch the motherfucker and knee him in the balls. When Joel started stroking your cheek, you groaned instead, and you hoped he would hear it as chagrin, not arousal.

“I can help with both of those, y’know—” His thumb rubbed a little harder, and his leg moved up. You pressed your hands flat to his thigh to keep him from teasing, but the man would do no such thing to oblige you. In fact, he just shifted his leg back and forth…and back, again. A ripple of bliss from the friction sparked low inside you.

“I can give you attention, and I can scrub that mouth clean if that’s what you really need,” Joel continued, “Just say the word, darlin’.”

“Fucker.” That was your word.

And it worked well enough for Joel.

In the next instant, he had you half-carried, half-dragged across the deck and thrown onto the table where you’d lost that dreaded game of stack. Solo cups still littering the surface, and puddles of beer soaking in through your dress, you made a sound of disgust and tried to thrust yourself up, just to fail. You squirmed and swatted at the man standing in front of you, who easily kept you pinned to the surface with one palm laid calmly on your belly.

He reached into the back pocket of his trousers and retrieved his lighter and cigarette pack.

“Someone could catch us,” you hissed, helpless, unsure of what else to say to show you weren’t giving in just yet.

Joel lit up in four seconds flat. He sucked in a breath.

“I roped off the stairs coming up,” he replied.

He what?

You moved back, slowly, on the surface when Joel worked a hand to his belt buckle, and you heard half a dozen plastic cups fall to the floor behind you.

You would not be his date’s sloppy seconds—ever.

Joel yanked at your thighs and pulled you back to be straddling his hips, shrugging his pants down; you couldn’t bear to keep looking when he lowered his briefs.

He took another drag and eyed you hungrily, happy to see you all sprawled out and pretty before him. The tight fabric of your dress had cinched over your hips and left you bare to just panties, making him grow even harder.

“Joel.”

He worked his dick out of his pants and moved the head to trail slow along the seam of your barely-clothed cunt. Even through the lace, he could feel how wet you were. He notched the tip at the space where your panties had parted just slightly to the side and felt your arousal pool even wetter around the end of his member. He grunted.

“Joel, I—”

“Daddy’s gonna give ya attention, sugar. Hold still.”

You couldn’t. Wouldn’t. You splayed your fingers over the hand that was trying to guide his cock into you and clenched your jaw—every carnal fibre in your being telling you not to do what you were about to try anyway.

“You fucked her didn’t you?”

Joel flicked the ash off his cigarette, “No.”

“You brought her here.”

“Had to.”

Your face was flushed and likewise flooded with smoke, curling slow from Joel’s lips before it painted the air an opaque, muddied grey above you. You wriggled your hips away from his, and for once, he didn’t try to stop you.

“I saw you tucking your shirt in. Tommy said you fucked!”

“Tommy’s about one fry short of a Happy Meal, honey,” Joel puffed once more, “He’s always sayin’ shit like that.”

Incredibly, he’d managed to use about a dozen funny words in that old Texas lilt and still say so little to actually answer your question. When the pinch in your brow told him you weren’t quite satisfied, Joel let out a sigh.

“Ash spilled pebre on my shirt. I had to change.”

Oh.

“And you—” you started.

“—have no fuckin’ right to know, one way or the other, because you’re the one who said we’d just ‘fuck and forget it,’ remember?” Joel interrupted, reminding you of your own curt words from your Bronco boning session.

Again, you tried to speak and found yourself spoken for, Joel carrying on as casual as ever as he sucked the last life-breath from his cig and stared you down, cynically.

“Your dad’s the one who made me bring her tonight. Said I seemed ‘down’ since the last gal I fucked wasn’t around—I didn’t have the heart to tell him it was his daughter—and here we are,” Joel smiled, wryly, and flicked his cigarette into the lake. You would’ve liked to tell him littering was a crime that trashed us all but refrained.

You were too busy staring at his lips, wondering why he hadn’t kissed you yet. You reckoned all the pea flinging, swearing, and swinging might’ve played a small part.

At length, Joel slid a new American Spirit out of its pack and wrangled you back to his hips as he lit up again.

“Happy?” he said, after a beat.

You weren’t sure whether to nod or cross your arms. Beckon him in with both hands or kick his bunched-up pants, belt, and boxer briefs away altogether and keep the bratty act going. You didn’t like being wrong.

At any rate, it didn’t matter. He’d called you on your bluff.

Still smoking, still smiling, still happy as a clam at high tide, Joel pressed his length straight up to your folds and watched you squirm on the wood underneath him.

“Gonna listen now?” he hummed.

“Uh-huh.”

Good, his wretchedly deep brown eyes seemed to say. Good that you were here, good that you were spread wide and supine beneath him, good that you’d gone all soft and pliable under his touch and were watching him now with a look that said you’d let him do just anything.

Good that he could fuck you.

Great that he wasn’t planning to—not fully, anyway.

Joel wasted no time taking your answer in the affirmative to slip past your panties and push deep inside your sweet cunt. When your walls stretched and cried all around him, he sighed and gripped your legs even tighter. He gritted the cigarette between his teeth and brought your ankles to rest over his shoulders, sinking in even deeper. Then he had to hold steady inside you and keep you flat on the table in front of him, and just when you whined to fuck me now, Joel, fuck me right now, daddy, please, he stilled. He took a big, long drag and didn’t move an inch.

He’d teach you some discipline one way or another.

“Joel, please,” you groaned again, hands bracing the table to start fucking up and down on his shaft, before he put a stop to that fast and held you firmly in place, “Please, Joel, I need you so fucking bad, daddy, please.”

Joel tapped his ash to the side and ignored your pleas.

He felt your walls contract around him and tried not to grunt. He focused instead on the smoke overhead.

“Wanna say that nicer?” he asked, deadpan. Then, staring expectantly down at you, while you flushed and struggled to stay still, “Keep that mouth a little cleaner?”

Fuck, did he have that father-figure tone down to a T.

You laid there before him and almost forgot his cock was wedged inside you for a second. He seemed so sincere.

“I wan— want you to move, daddy, I-I-I don’t know how else to say i— FUCK!” Your pussy spasmed around him when the tip of his pubic bone grazed your clit. That squeaky clean mouth of yours was nowhere to be seen.

“Mhmm,” Joel nodded anyway, pretending to be observing your behavior as he might for a clinical trial. Like he was testing a new drug, not his dick inside your cunt, practically clenching in Morse code around him.

“Can ya try that one more time, sweet pea? For daddy?”

You could. Try, anyway. Controlling your tongue while he was buried so deep inside you seemed to be a far harder task than you could’ve ever expected, though.

Joel sensed it. Feeling a twinge of pity, he leaned over your body and dug his hips even deeper—not thrusting, but still granting some modicum of friction. The hot, heavy throb of his girth pulsed inside you like your own fucking heartbeat, and your eyes rolled back.

“Fucking shitsucking DICK BITCH CUNT! FUCK!”

Sounding every bit the uncouth novice in a COD lobby chat circa 2009, you knew you didn’t have the faintest hope of earning Joel’s strokes now. You hated yourself for it—and Joel, too, for subjecting you to such cruel and unusual punishment for just needing to fuck him hard.

You were desperate and heated. Five seconds away from yanking your sex off of his and going to town with your own fingers, you felt a palm press down on your tummy.

Damn Joel and his super-sized hands.

You could barely breathe, much less pry yourself off.

Joel was quiet and calm. Stuffing you full and puffing away at his cigarette the whole time. He smirked.

“Ain’t that difficult, honey,” he said, hardly losing his will or his sympathy when you shot a raw glance his way, “Stay still on this cock and ask daddy nicely, ‘s’all ya gotta do.”

He could tell by the look in your eyes you couldn’t stand to play nice—but needed to cum. He watched you swallow your pride, soften your eyes just a bit, and when you felt you might implode from all the feeling, whined,

“Please make me feel good, daddy, please, I need it.”

Joel breathed and eased back just an inch, lowering his hand to thumb softly at your clit. You keened.

“That’s my sweet girl.”

Still just rubbing that bundle and looking down while you came unraveled, Joel thought you perfectly sublime. He’d kill to keep you there like that, eyes rolling and skin soaking the table beneath you both in sweat and arousal. He stared down at the place your bodies were connected—a sliver of his cock visible and soaked with your juices—and he felt a wave of desire crest over his mind. Panting, quietly, he brought one hand to your hip and kept the other working furiously over your clit, trying to ignore the urge to rut inside you. It was self-discipline for him, too.

He wouldn’t let you know that yet, though.

He crushed the cigarette between his teeth and kept still.

“Ya like that, sugar? Like daddy stuffed inside this pussy, makin’ ya beg real pretty for me?” His husky Southern drawl ran like molasses off his tongue, thicker now when he was balls-deep and half-drunk off your cunt.

You watched his mouth, intrigued, and saw a long line of spit drip deliciously from those pretty, stubbled lips of his to your lower ones, making the spot more filthy and warm as your fluids mixed together. Still, Joel didn’t move a thing more than his thumb—but the sounds from you both were growing louder and more desperate.

The gentle squelch of spit, sweat, and arousal running all down your pussy, paired with those noises you made when you were feeling this good and squeezing him tight, was enough to send Joel straight over the edge. Now he didn’t have the strokes or any motion to focus on before him, just you—he flicked his cigarette away the second he sensed you were getting close yourself.

“Sweet little thing,” he cooed, still rubbing in circles, “How’s my baby feelin’?”

You clawed at the table beneath you and knocked your head back once or twice on the wood, humming a quick, ‘Good, daddy, good’ in the most hoarse and pathetic voice you’d ever used, and Joel smiled. You hadn’t cursed out loud in a minute and seemed to be taking his touches well. He’d have to give you some form of reward.

Gently, Joel pulled back and made a shallow thrust inside you. Both your body and his jolted with pleasure.

“FU—n stuff, fun stuff,” you hissed, trying hard to mask the expletive.

In truth, Joel was struggling too. Just one stroke inside you and that coil inside him was about ready to burst.

“Fun, huh?” he teased, keeping his motions down to quick pistons as he laid his palms flat on either side of your head, “Daddy make ya feel fun-ny, does he?”

“Yeah, he does, he— ah, SHIT right there, right there!”

Evidently, he’d found your G spot.

Joel stilled inside you as soon as the foul word escaped.

You whined. Loud. Almost tempted to burst into tears.

“Nononono, that doesn’t count, Joel! That doesn’t—” Your voice was shortly supplanted by a whimper when the man went back to thumbing your clit, hips rendered still once more and cock wedged deep inside your core.

“What’s it gonna take to make you behave for me, huh? Do I have to talk to your daddy again?” Joel seethed.

You shook your head quick and felt him circle your clit even harder, more punishing now. Your body craved the friction from his cock but could barely contain the words that were coming out now. You pinched your eyes shut, feeling your orgasm creeping closer and closer, and whimpered gently, desperately, ‘Fuckfuckfuuuuuck.’

Whether it came down to making terrible plays at stack cup or getting your clit torn apart by Joel’s thumb, you simply could not keep the filthy language at bay.

You weren’t going to listen, that much was clear.

Joel had no choice but to make you learn a different way.

So, prying his fingers and his cock from your cunt, he reached across for your hips instead—pulling you off of the table and pushing you down to the floor, at his feet.

He smoothed a palm over the top of your head and fisted your hair in one hand, his cock in the other, and brought his hot, swollen, slick-coated length within an inch of your face, stroking fast.

Your gaze flitted from the sight in front of you to Joel’s eyes, back and forth, stunned and in utter disbelief. As you felt your own climax crumble and recede from you at once, the sound jumped up your throat before you could stop,

“What the FUCK is your problem, Joel?!”

“There it is,” Joel just flared his nostrils as he jerked himself above you, “There’s that nasty fuckin’ mouth.”

He pulled your head even rougher and tipped your chin back to meet the scowl on his face. Pleasure had almost swallowed the man whole, yet his expression scarcely betrayed a trace of it, eyes cold and jaw clenched tight.

“If that mouth can’t be good for me, can it open real wide and show me how a dirty slut does it?”

You were beside yourself. Holding his gaze like a bomb might go off in his brain any second—something you’d be happy to see—you scowled as well. Begrudgingly, and knowing Joel wouldn’t ease off of this punishment until he’d made you pay for your language, you nodded.

“What’s’at?” Joel snapped, stroking himself even faster, “What do ya want me to do, sugar?”

You gritted your teeth and silently wished they were crushing his balls to powder between them.

“Want…you…to cum…on my face.”

“Little louder, sweet pea, can’t hear ya from up here.”

The sound of his palm working over his cock again and again, shimmery and slick with your arousal soaking it, was almost too much to bear. You watched, forlorn and silently boiling with rage as Joel stared down at you, as merciless as he’d ever been. Mocking, almost, it seemed.

“Want you to…cum on me, please.”

“One more time, darlin’,” Joel pressed, pupils blown wide with desire, “Be real sweet and say it one more time f—”

“I WANT YOU TO CUM ON MY FACE, YOU FUCKER.”

That sparked the first real smile on Joel’s lips you’d seen in a while, and then he was watching you cockily, nodding.

Before you could even think to blink, stand up, or storm off again, you felt a fat, sticky-wet glob of warmth hit your cheek. Then another. Then another. Then another. You winced and flinched back, but Joel held your head in place, in front of his cock, and gripped you firmly as he unloaded rope after rope of his cum all over your face.

By the time he was finished, your skin was glistening. Coated in the stuff and still blinking through strings of the hot, sticky mess as Joel stood over you, chest heaving fast as he pumped himself through his release.

Must be fucking nice.

When the downpour had slowed to a trickle, two thick fingers swiped at a dollop of cum on your cheek. Then, wordlessly, they moved down to your mouth.

“Open,” Joel commanded.

You’d barely parted your lips a quarter of an inch when he pushed both digits inside. Swirled them around in your mouth and made sure to cover every soft, wet contour and crevice before pulling out with a pop.

He wiped at your other spend-streaked cheek and repeated the action, plunging his fingers in and out of your mouth to make sure you cleaned him thoroughly. This was more of an act meant to tease than anything else, you knew, almost demeaning in the way he stood there and nodded his head while murmuring, ‘’Atta girl.’

You hated how much you liked that stupid show of dominance—and, even worse, how good he tasted.

Joel brushed your tongue with another fingerful and watched you bob your head in time. He hummed his approval and scanned your face for any spend left over.

There was a lot. He paused, as if considering something.

“Drop ‘em.” Joel motioned to the straps of your dress.

You did as he said and pulled both bands down at once. When your breasts spilled out of the fabric, you watched Joel lower his gaze and, fixating on the spot you’d just exposed to him, take two—no, three—careful fingers to collect the remainder of himself and spread it downward.

Joel took his cum and smeared it all over your tits.

He was equal parts meticulous, gentle, and gratuitous in doing so, and he took pleasure in every second.

With a heavy-lidded, glossy gaze trained unwaveringly on your chest, Joel rolled each nipple between forefinger and thumb and fell into a trance. Rubbed you up and down every inch he could find and groaned at the sight. Glazing your skin all over with him and savoring it.

You couldn’t deny the feeling of being marked in a way so degrading, dirty, and adoring at once had a dizzying effect on you, too. The look in his eyes, and the soft brush of his fingers, almost quelled your rage entirely.

Almost.

When Joel pulled your spaghetti straps back into place—and you, in turn, back onto your feet—you yanked away. Forcefully. While Joel straightened up, silently cursed his bad back, tucked his dick in his pants, and started to reach for your waist, you jabbed the fastest, fattest, fuck-your-whole-family middle finger in his face and took off.

“Honey—”

“Don’t.”

“But I—”

“Have some goddamn fucking nerve.”

You’d nearly made it to the staircase again, heels turning to start down the first steps, when Joel sidestepped at lightning speed and blocked off your passage. All you saw then was the front of a starch white dress shirt and a light patch of chest hair peeking out from the highest button, crowding your vision, moving in time with every manoeuvre you tried to make around him. He smelled like sweat and fresh citrus. Perhaps a hint of vengeance.

You wouldn’t meet his gaze when he grabbed your face. Tried to shrug him off when he made as if to pull you into a hug—‘Are you off your shit?! Are you?! People are right downstairs’—and Joel just smiled. Grinned like a jackass eating briars, about five times too smug for his own good, and drew you into his chest by gentle turns.

You weren’t sure why you recoiled when he kissed you.

Hell, you’d done it a dozen times before—albeit a bit more frantically, in a way to say ‘I need to fuck you’ when words just wouldn’t suffice—but this one was different. Deeper. Joel was gripping both sides of your face and still grinning as he kissed you, feeling your muscles slacken some and your frame meld gently into his.

You hated it.

“I missed you,” Joel murmured between kisses.

Hated him.

“How’s my baby been, huh?”

Oh, you know, just waiting. Hating you a little. Hoping we didn’t inadvertently create a baby ourselves, courtesy of your prehistoric condoms.

“I missed you.” Gently. Again.

You tensed in his hold when his lips trailed down to your neck. You felt a low flutter. It was like your feet had been glued to the floor and your tongue left wholly immobile; you let Joel caress, kiss, and whisper down your skin like every cell beneath his touch wasn’t seething en masse.

Your stolen climax. Broken condom. Close call with your father and Tommy. Radio silence ongoing for days.

You couldn’t wrap your head around any of it, or him, or how grossly inconsistent the man’s every move upon you now seemed to be with the way he’d acted all week.

Joel slowly descended your body.

“Like I said, honey…you fuck with my head,” he said soft against your dress, then your legs, then the space in between them.

“Makes two of us,” you grumbled back.

You braced your weight against the railing over the stairs just behind you when he slipped your panties to the floor. Then he tucked them snug into one of his back pockets and brought his face to your wet, aching core.

“Discipline doesn’t come easy, does it?” It sounded like something trapped between a question and a declarative coming out from the side of Joel’s mouth.

Fortunately for you, he didn’t try to clarify which of the two he meant, or do much else at all except eat your pussy from that point on. He kissed your thighs, gripped them tighter, then wedged his face between them while you held fast to the metal behind you. You stifled a moan when his tongue traced over the seam of your cunt.

You didn’t have to like the man to love what his mouth could do for you, you silently reminded yourself.

Love it you could—and would. Without shame.

Granted, you were still sensitive as all hell from your last almost-orgasm of the night, but Joel knew how to work his lips and tongue around it. He swiftly lapped between your folds, teased a finger at your hole, and wrapped his warm lips around your clit to suck once or twice, and you were damn near ready to spiral in seconds. You fisted the soft salt-and-pepper hair at the top of his head and rutted your hips in short, shallow motions against him.

“Good girl,” Joel crooned, welcoming each thrust with another swirl of his tongue, “That’s my sweet baby.”

“Joel.”

You traded expletives for the simple repetition of his name, not wanting the pleasure to stop. Joel hummed and sucked and held your legs around him even tighter.

You sighed, almost whined, and dug your fingertips into his scalp, feeling your climax building quick inside you.

Joel’s mouth was working faster, sucking harder, drawing smaller and crueler circles, lapping eagerly against your arousal and giving it everything he had, it seemed, to work you up to your release. He grunted when you yanked hard on his hair but didn’t stop.

In fact, the bastard just kept trying to talk you through it, fluid movements of his own tongue and lips be damned.

“Doin’ so damn good for me, sweet pea, keep goin’.” There was an apology in there somewhere, working hard to atone for the orgasm he’d denied you right before.

Four more flicks of his tongue and a gentle endeavor to pump his fingers in and out, again and again, right above that soft, spongy pad of pleasure deep inside had you teetering over the edge of a cliff.

You tore your gaze from Joel for a second, preparing for that sweet and lusty consummation, when your head turned to the side just slightly. You almost groaned.

Your own hot, flushed, and fucked-out reflection was the first thing to greet you in a sliver of a mirror on the wall. Just beneath you, as you could’ve expected, there was Joel—kneeling between your legs with his chin tipped up, beard coated in moisture and pleasure and warmth. You weren’t sure why the sight from this angle had such a strong effect, but something about the full view of your bodies in motion gave your stomach a pinch. A burn. You ogled the glass and made a sound audibly higher in pitch than a whimper as Joel suckled and tongued at your clit.

You came just like that—gripping the rails, fisting his hair, rutting your hips, and staring implacably at that mirror.

When Joel resurfaced, you were still fully transfixed.

Gawking at how fucking nice he looked between your thighs. How filthy it all was to be seated on his face and cumming for his tongue while the rest of your father’s dinner party mingled blissfully unaware downstairs.

When you saw Joel rise, you jerked your head back.

You weren’t sure why it felt like being caught, but it did.

Just as you began to murmur some half-assed apology his way, you felt hands on your hips and a rock-hard bulge at your rear as Joel spun you round in front of him.

He shoved you flush against the mirror so your tits were pressed up to the glass. He gave you a quick once-over.

Slid the straps of your dress off your shoulders and shimmied the fabric down your chest, once again.

With your breasts splayed out in front of you and your hands pressing hard on the mirror—as if letting up the slightest bit might send you straight through it—you tried to crane your neck. You felt the sticky squelch of cum and fresh spit painted over your chest, muddying up the glass with every movement you made. Your chin dug deep in your shoulder as you cocked your head to the left, eyes searching for Joel’s behind you.

You heard the clink of a belt, followed by a rustle of fabric. Then a hand slamming close beside your head on the mirror, while another worked industriously to free his cock from the confines of his trousers once more.

“Joel,” you breathed, still tender from your climax.

“Hm?”

He was gruff as he rubbed and smacked your bare ass with his cock. Let it rest on the soft, fleshy shelf between you two and teased his length over that space.

“Did someone take his little blue pill today?” you teased.

“Fuck off.” You saw a flicker of a smirk in the mirror.

No way Joel Miller was getting a full-fledged erection twice in the same ten minute span. That shit didn’t happen outside the realm of porn flicks and a woman’s wildest fantasies when it came to men Joel’s age. He knew it just as well as you but tried to feign indifference when he pressed the head of himself to your folds. He did, however, suck in a breath at the new sensation.

He could do this.

He could cockwarm you raw, tonguefuck your cunt, ravage and render you all but brainless on the surface of that mirror, and still have the wits about himself to take another breath. He could show those shit-for-brains college boys he’d been battling for days in the depths of his mind how much better he could fuck you than them.

Really, Joel was just manifesting at this point.

He hadn’t busted a nut and fucked this quick since Bill Clinton had been in office. All hat and no cattle whatsoever for this pussywhipped cowboy.

“Better hope I go easy on ya, sugar.”

“Best believe I won’t.” You would’ve winked if you weren’t so bone-crushingly aroused and fresh off your peak.

Joel had just chuckled, more than a touch nervous, and began rubbing your warmth to coat himself in it—angling his slightly apprehensive penis up to your cunt when you straightened some. Rather than keep your tits to the mirror, you chose to press your back against him, ass snug to his front and eyes roaming wildly over the reflection of your two forms. Both of you flinched when the head of his cock hitched around your entrance.

Joel’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat just over your shoulder. He pressed a kiss to your skin.

“Gotta be the sweetest thing I ever seen,” he whispered into your ear. Meeting your gaze in the mirror and lifting his hips just so before breaching your folds.

He hoped you’d take it for sweetness and not just a vicious strain of anxiety or weakness as he prepared for the first thrust. He’d need a second, a minute—maybe a goddamned hour, if he was being real honest. You were too damn pretty to be fucked by a two-pump chump.

Joel nudged his nose against your ear and tried to stall. Pausing a beat.

“Never been humped and dumped before, yaknow.”

Wait—the fuck?

That came out wrong.

You cocked a brow and tilted your hips. You didn’t seem keen on talking but had no choice but to humor him.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” you hummed.

Joel balked at his own stupidity, trying, and failing, to remove his foot from his mouth and remedy his words.

“I mean, I— I get it,” he returned, too fast for his liking, “I’m no texter myself, I just…thought, uh, maybe—”

“Miller. Spit it out.”

Your body was all but leaking arousal before him and the man was trying to divert the conversation to…phones?

Joel winced.

Felt his member deflate with embarrassment just a bit.

NO! No. No. Just…fuck. Stay hard. Please, stay hard.

He’d done it to himself. Tried to hamper sex for a second too long just to give his dick a fighting chance at survival and ended up mucking things up supremely. Per usual.

“You never texted me back.” He sounded blunt now. Rushed.

Joel watched you raise both eyebrows.

“Texted you back?” you scoffed.

“Yeah…texted, called, snipchatted, whatever.”

Your face didn’t change despite the glaring Gen X error.

“You never texted me, Joel!”

What?

Suddenly, the dick wedged between your legs and hovering over your cunt seemed to be the last thing either of you could be bothered to worry about.

“I’ve…been texting you all week. Called a few times too.”

“Like hell you have. You ghosted me and went off the grid this whole fuckin’ week—Tommy said so, too.”

Joel cringed again to hear his brother’s name brought up in this context and shook his head. You were wrong.

“512-867-5309. Been trying to talk to you all goddamn week, see how you were, and you never responded,” he said, indignation creeping into his tone against his will.

At last, your expression dropped.

From furious to frowning to just fucking annoyed. Your lips were drawn tight in a line across your face.

“My number is 512-867-5305, dipshit.”

“Huh?”

“5 at the end, not a 9.”

“…No.”

“Yeah…”

Shit.

Joel Miller had made his fair share of flubs in his life, but fucking up the phone number of his best friend’s daughter whose pussy he’d accidentally cum inside the week before seemed almost criminal. Too fucking asinine and rookie-level dense to ever recover from. He blinked.

“Thought you…hated my fuckin’ guts,” he confessed.

You threw your hands up in disbelief, frustration. Fury.

“I do— believe me, I do,” you snapped, “But not for that.”

‘That’ meaning the last time you two bumped uglies. Joel wasn’t sure whether to take heart or step back.

“What’s’at mean?” he asked.

You pushed your feet a little further apart on the floor and pressed back into Joel. He took that as a decidedly good sign and reached for your hip. Then took his cock, again, which had invariably twitched and swelled up at the smallest motion from you.

“Means we’ve got plenty of reasons to hate each other, but fuckin’ ain’t one of ‘em,” you shrugged, angling your ass in the perfect place for penetration. Joel was just about back to full-mast and buzzing as you spoke, “I can get over the whole…old dude taboo—you being dad’s friend and all—I just couldn't stand the thought of you leaving me in the lurch when shit got weird at the end.”

‘Weird’ meaning risky. Virulent. Damn near catastrophic if it ever came to be that one of Joel's swimmers had latched onto one of your eggs and knocked you up. The fear of pregnancy, and every bloodcurdling, awkward conversation to ensue, had been amplified tenfold by the thought that Joel didn't even care one way or the other and couldn't be bothered to text, call, or otherwise show that he didn't totally regret what you'd done in his car. You could handle a clean break, but leaving it on such uncertain terms had been torture. At length, you sighed.

Joel was nosing behind your ear now, a bit less tense.

A little more laid-back and warm this time around, as he, like you, had gotten to exhale a breath of relief realizing that neither of you had deliberately tried to fuck the other over, or ghost, just yet. You'd been pissed at him all night, and he'd been busy barraging a perfect stranger somewhere in Austin with strings of texts and calls all week, but the two of you were ultimately OK. For now.

“But you still hate me, huh?” Joel spoke low against your skin and felt you soften just a little.

You nodded, careful not to slacken too much.

“Mhmm.”

Now Joel was almost glad to have taken that brief, heated detour, because his dick had made a complete comeback and was aching to tease you some more. He grabbed the base of his length and slotted it slow as ever between your folds. Rolled his hips forward and pushed you both a little closer to the mirror. One of your hands flew up to steady yourself, and Joel’s hand followed. He laid his palm over the back of yours and pressed in.

“It’d be a real shame if you do,” he said, smirking as he notched the tip of his cock just within the tight ring of muscles at the groove of your cunt, “For a second there I was starting to think you might’ve liked fucking me, too.”

In the next second, Joel was easing inside you. Feeling you arch into the motion and grabbing hold wherever he could across your front, he pulled you into his chest and felt a streak of coarse pleasure lick up the full length of his spine. Your walls were squeezing him in a brand new way, a novel position, and he was starting to fear there wasn't any place he could fuck you that wouldn't send him veering for release within his first two strokes inside.

He bucked his hips a little something like an amateur, he thought, getting used to taking you like this. You were moaning, holding his fingers between your own atop the mirror as you squeezed your pussy tight around his cock, and he hoped that meant you hadn't minded the few stuttered, desperate strokes he'd delivered at first.

“I love…fucking you, Joel,” you seethed at last.

Then, wordless as it was pointed, finding his gaze in your reflection, ‘I still hate you, Miller. There’s a difference.’

He slammed into your ass and quickly got the sense that you liked it this fast—loving, lusting, or despising him otherwise. Almost needed it a bit frantic and rapid-fire when he was fucking you from the back, he reckoned.

Joel looked you in the eye from his view behind you in the mirror and saw it clear as day. He almost grinned.

You were wildly fucked out and in need of quick release.

For once in his life, he could oblige you on that, easy.

He slid his cock in and out, rutting much quicker than he ever thought you’d want it, and he grunted. Slipped a hand between your thighs and felt you pulse around him, involuntarily, when his fingers found your clit. He could tell by that grip, and those febrile little whimpers, that you were loving this just as much as him and probably were as close, if not closer, to a new, shuddering climax.

Joel plunged deep inside your cunt and drew you closer.

Taking your throat in one hand, he nudged your body into the glass and smirked, drunk with the feel of you.

“Ya like it when I fill this pussy, huh? Love feeling me deep inside this needy little hole?” he murmured, slow and taking care to draw out the syllables in each word.

You nodded that you did. Rocked your hips back to meet his thrusts and moaned.

“I love it, daddy,” you managed weakly, “Love it so much.”

The fingers at your clit increased in speed, and Joel rutted into you even harder, relishing the soft squelch between your bodies as he moved. Then he reached for a fistful of your hair and, instead of pulling back like he might normally have done, he pushed in. He pressed your face in the mirror, turned to the side, and pistoned his hips even faster. Felt your moans spill out across the glass and mix with his own, and he couldn’t help but let a raw, primal impulse take over his thrusts—and tongue.

“You make the prettiest fuckin’ noises, y’know that?” Joel breathed, hunched over and close to your ear.

Before you could so much as acknowledge his praises, bob your head, or moan in response, he shifted the hand in your hair again. This time turning your face toward the mirror, he brought your lips within inches of the glass and made you watch him fuck you, again and again.

You trailed your gaze over your full reflection and almost whined out loud, ripe with desire and ready to cum just seeing how good he looked as he took you from behind.

With his brow furrowed, pupils blown, hair a fucking mess, lips parting slightly with the strain of every grunt and moan, and hips rolling repeatedly, furiously into your own, Joel looked about as handsome as you thought you’d ever seen him. You felt the soft nudge of his tummy behind you, the tightened grip on your hip and in your hair, and within seconds, you were nearly there.

“My pretty. fuckin’. girl—” Joel managed through gritted teeth, each word punctuated with a thrust, “—and her pretty. fuckin’. moans.” Then, bringing his beaming, sweaty expression right next to yours in the mirror, “Ready to cum for me, pretty girl?”

You curled your toes into the floor and nodded, slotting your fingers through his own when he planted a hand above you again,

“So— so close, daddy.”

Joel squeezed your fingers back. Kept your faces damn near side-by-side in the mirror and relished the marked change in your features when he grazed that spot inside. You let out the filthiest, fuckdrunk moan and didn’t need another stroke—you came around his cock with a tight, pulsing spasm, seizing his hand, rocking your hips back into his hard as the pleasure washed over your body.

Joel’s cock absorbed every last delicate throb, hot and heavy enough to send the man spiraling himself. He braced his front tight against your body and kept fucking you through your release, groaning a vicious, desperate bout when he felt that deep-seated urge to spill his seed.

Fuck. He’d have to pull out. Now.

Just as his own climax was close at hand—close as he could ever, or should ever feel it while still inside you—Joel reached down for your hip to pull out and cum all over your ass, but he was brought to a stop. Swiftly.

To his surprise, it was you pulling off of him—sliding off his cock and dropping to your knees as if to take him in your mouth.

Thank fuck.

Joel grabbed his dick as quick as he possibly could and moved to start stroking himself over your face, when your hand closed around his own. Stopping him. Again.

You grinned.

Feeling the slightest twinge of retributive pleasure at seeing him like this, just like he’d had you, your smile stretched even bigger. Joel could’ve wept at the sight.

You brought your lips to his cock and grazed it, barely.

“Wanna try something fun?”

He knew better than to let a moan slip at a time like this.

Not when he was sitting at the dinner table; not when he was surrounded by the people he knew and loved the most. Not when he was celebrating his best friend’s fifty-first birthday, and certainly not when that man’s daughter was currently perched between his thighs, out of sight from every eye at the party but his.

Joel lifted the tablecloth. He almost came on the spot.

This was your idea of ‘fun.’

Payback by any other name would’ve smelled as sweet.

Seeing your mouth open wide and your lips curled tight around his hot, throbbing member, Joel couldn’t help but ache for reprieve, or else a split-second lapse of judgment—one where he forgot all sense of decorum and simply went to town on that pretty little face of yours. But, as it was, the rest of the party was totally oblivious to your absence, and he didn’t want to draw attention to it, or him, by roughfucking your mouth.

That would come later.

No, now he would let you glide your mouth gently over his shaft, leaving trails of thick spit and hints of a shiny pink lip gloss in its wake. He’d let you bob your head softly—self-assured in a pace you got to set—and he wouldn’t lay a finger on your face or let a thrust of his get in the way, because this was all about you giving him the pleasure. Maybe making him squirm just a little, too.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t steal a glimpse every now and then and pin you with an expectant look when he wanted something done his way. The room was dimly lit and everyone in it drunk; Joel would gladly take the risk.

‘You can go deeper than that, sweet pea.’

‘Nope, three-fourths ain’t enough, I need your mouth around me whole.’

‘You did wanna make daddy feel good, didn’t ya, sugar?’

He didn’t have to speak a word of it out loud for you to know what he meant. What he needed. You loosened your jaw and stretched your lips even wider, whining just a little when the head of his cock grazed your tonsils.

“Fuck that feels nice,” Joel said aloud.

You froze.

Then, without missing a beat, you heard him continue just as comfortably, speaking to the people around him,

“Y’all feel that breeze comin’ in?”

Sick fuck. You continued to suck him anyway.

One hand braced tight against Joel’s leg and the other moved shamelessly between your own, and you tried not to moan, but the sound escaped anyway. No one heard it, but Joel felt it reverberate down his shaft, and he gripped his glass of Merlot like a vice. Your dad shot him a curious look from across the table but said nothing.

“Can’t get enough’a her, huh?” Tommy grinned beside him.

“What?” Joel faltered. Set his drink aside carefully.

Down below, you dragged your mouth just far enough to take his tip between your lips and suckle. Joel grunted.

“The wine,” Tommy said, still smiling, “You must love it.”

Joel let out another strangled breath that he tried to pass off as a chuckle and nodded.

“Got me on my fuckin’ knees,” he admitted.

And that was the truth. Starved for air and blinking through tears as you knelt down to blow him, it was still you with the chokehold on Joel, and both of you knew it.

Try as you might to convince yourselves otherwise, the man was enrapt. Too spellbound to turn down your offer of sucking him dry under the dinner table just minutes after he’d almost cum all over your face, Joel was in it, and he was in it deep. It was just that small matter of you being his best friend’s daughter that made him loath to admit it. At any rate, he had your tongue licking strips up his cock and felt a sudden, sharp clench in his stomach.

He knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Neither would you.

Joel couldn’t see it then, but you’d practically soaked your own hand from how hard you’d been rubbing your clit—ignoring his orders not to touch yourself there—so turned on from just sucking his dick and needing to feel relief while you selflessly, secretly pleased him beneath the table. While Joel reached for another draught of wine, you brought one hand to his balls and kept the other at your cunt, triple-tasking like the efficient little slut he needed you to be: sucking, cupping, and rubbing all at once to get the two of you off in one minute or less.

You guided him down to the furthest place in your throat, then pushed him even deeper. You gagged just slightly and felt a hand reach down for your cheek. A thumb began to rub at the tears welled up at the corners of your eyes.

‘Sweet thing hasn’t felt a man this deep before, huh? Wanna swallow some more?’

You nodded that you did. Couldn’t actually hear him now, or see much else besides the soft tufts of hair on his belly, but you could feel a light, heady warmth seep into your brain.

You rutted your hips and just hoped no one dropped a fork nearby. Bucked desperately into your hand and felt the heat start to swell to a whole new feeling, and suddenly you were whimpering, whining on Joel’s cock from under the shade of the table and cumming all over your fingers.

Joel returned a quick smile from your father and cracked a joke about the Super Bowl. Raised his hips just the slightest bit and wiped one of your tear-soaked cheeks.

‘Almost there, hon, keep that throat open for daddy.’

All you could do was cry and try your best. Wild feelings from both the slow, deep facefuck he was giving you and the flurry of euphoric aftershocks coursing all throughout your body made it almost impossible to bear, but you obeyed your sweet and strong and steady-handed Joel and sensed a blossoming desire crop up for something else.

You wanted to taste him as he blew his load in your mouth, flooded your tongue with his spend, and painted every inch of your insides with that hot, sticky stuff.

You needed him whole.

Your Joel.

In tune with your thoughts—or perhaps just overcome with a need to see you before he reached his peak—Joel raised the tablecloth the slightest bit when Tommy wasn’t looking. His gaze locked on yours, and his tongue darted quick between his lips. He cocked a brow. Brushed his thumb again and looked down as if to say,

‘Ya want this, darlin’? Want all of me?’

You gave a soft nod, and that was all he needed.

No sooner had you given him the green light than his cum went pulsing out in ropes, coating your throat and eventually your whole mouth as you held still and took it all.

There was so much more than you thought. So much of Joel that had been waiting to give your mouth a proper fucking glaze that once he’d started he just couldn’t stop. Above the table, your dad shot a pointed look in his direction—‘You good, man?’—and it took every ounce of strength in Joel’s body to grit his teeth tight and nod.

He’d filled so much of your mouth it was spilling out.

You tried to hold steady, keep your movements extra slow. You’d heard your dad’s voice and just knew there’d be a lot more on the line than Joel’s dribbling seed if either one of you fucked up now. Your breath caught in your chest, and you felt too afraid to even swallow.

“I just…came,” Joel started, and your head almost cracked on the wood surface from how abruptly you flinched back,

“—to the realization—”

“—that you…are so…motherfuckin’ old, my friend.”

Your father’s laugh was the first you heard, followed by Tommy, his friends, and a dozen other party guests.

The next thing you felt, to your complete and utter shock, was Joel’s cock brushing your cheek. Then your lips. Then your tongue. He slid his still-hard member through the ‘o’ your mouth had made in awe and started to move in gentle motions back and forth, like a man all but aching to get a feel for your wet, sodden walls.

A man who couldn’t risk a glimpse now, but wanted more than anything to see the mouth he’d just filled.

Your father’s words hadn’t even cooled in the air.

Joel Miller, you sneaky, freaky fuck.

As the laughter subsided, and Tommy scooted back in his chair to take leave of your table, you felt a spark ignite. Whether it was yours or Joel’s or both your perverted minds suddenly alight and insane with the same thought, you couldn’t be sure, but you could make out the sound of a tablecloth flipping back up above you.

Joel slipped his dick out of your mouth and grinned. Took a firm hold of your face under the table so his fingers were coaxing your jaw to unhinge before him.

It was the lowest, slowest, menacing sort of sound you’d ever heard from him before, but it was his all the same.

Speaking to you now, softly, “Show daddy, darlin’.”

You thought you might like to see him that way forever.

Eyes honey-soft and glazed, thumb toying at your lip. Chest heaving up and down in time to your own breaths and growing ragged as you opened your mouth to him. He was sated and somehow unfulfilled—a bottomless pit of raw prurience as he stared down and held your gaze. Hair tousled, pants unbuckled, cock resting comfortably against your cheek, the man looked wonderfully undone and half in love with your sweet face peering up at him.

You couldn’t deny you loved doing this, too.

You’d just wished he saw Tommy before Tommy saw you.

#C*MPLAY IS BACK IN A BIG WAY #IT NEVER LEFT #joel miller smearing it on YOUR FACE????? IN THIS ECONOMY???#i would never shut up #i already never shut up but especially then #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us #tlou #the last of us fic #joel miller x you #dbf!joel

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georgiapeach30513 · 9 months

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I’m Not Supposed to Play with Boys

Summary: Ransom always gets what he wants. Even if he has to wait.

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content, (step) dad’s best friend, smut, PIV sex, unprotected sex, age gap, dirty talk, D/s dynamics, degradation, teasing, edging, female masturbation/humping, fingering, finger in mouth, humiliation, body writing, oral sex (M receiving), daddy kink, voyeurism, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.6K

Ransom Drysdale Masterlist

Your dad looks at the rear view mirror. Watching your face as the car looms ever closer to the Thrombey estate. You try to remain neutral in your thoughts as more and more of the animal statues come into view. Counting each one because the closer they were, the closer you got to the mansion. And you hope that the person you had been longing to see was there.

Your dad sighs, and you look at the reflection of his cobalt eyes, “Ransom is going to be here today, and I expect you to be on your best behavior.”

“You’re not my real dad, and I’m not a child.”

“You are visiting from college, and this is my friend’s family home,” his voice gets a bit more of an edge to it, and you roll your eyes. He was so predictable. Expected perfection from you. Because you reflected on him.

“Honey, just listen to your dad,” your mom yawns, pushing her seat back, and closing her eyes. There wasn’t even that much further to go, and she was already sleepy from who knows what. Your step-father rolls his eyes as the creepy estate comes into view, but that pretty little Beemer was nowhere insight.

“Do you think Linda would mind me taking a nap?” Your mom pets on his arm, and you feel like getting sick. She was more of a friend than a mother. She had you when she couldn’t even legally drive. It was like the two of you had grown up together. And sometimes you wondered if she was still trying to sew her wild oats.

He slowly removes his foot from the accelerator, throwing the car into park, “I’m going to see if they need any help in the kitchen,” you jump out before he could say anything. He was going to wait outside with the family, while your mother took her ‘nap’. You were going to wait where you could hopefully see that Beemer drive up. They didn’t need help in the kitchen. Everything was already outside. But you did exactly what Ransom had asked you to. And now you wait.

——

Ransom spots his best friend’s car, and gets a big grin on his face. He was told that you were home from Harvard. He doesn’t waste time saying his hellos, he needs a snack. From the kitchen. Into the house he walks, and straight into the kitchen. He must have been quieter than he had thought. You hadn’t noticed him.

Your back is to him, and he notices slow little movements forward. Right at the table. A soft little whimper is music to his ears. He opens up a cabinet for a packet of cookies, and you push off the table, “What cha doing?” He looks all the way down your body before meeting your stare with an arrogant grin.

“N-n-nothing,” you answer quickly. Smoothing down your dress as you look at anything that wasn’t him. You have never been more embarrassed in your life.

“Looked like you were humping the edge of the table. Where you fucking my grandpa’s table?” You shake your head no, starting to retreat out of the kitchen. “Wait. I’m not finished talking to you. If I happen to lift that little skirt of yours am I going to see that pretty pussy wet?”

“Um…no,” why was him embarrassing you like that making you more heated? Why was there a fresh gush of your juices to your core at the sound of his voice?

“Be a good girl, and lift up your skirt. Come on, I wanna see. Just wanna know if you’re still a desperate little slut for me,” slowly you lift up your skirt, and indeed the cotton gusset of your panties are darkened with your slick. “You were saying?” He chuckles, looking back up at you.

“I’m sorry, Ransom. I…”

“Oh, sweet little princess, what made you so weak in the knees? What’s got you all needy and grinding on that old table?”

Your eyes drift down to the floor, and your cheeks heat up in flames. He was going to make you say it, and you couldn’t. You mustn’t. “You know who.”

“Yeah, but that crush was a couple of years ago. You can’t still have a thing for little ole me, right?”

“I — I had sex like you asked. I’ve got experience now,” your voice is desperate when you try to tell Ransom that you followed his rules for you when you graduated. You followed his instructions perfectly. Listened to every word. “I…”

“And you’re still a needy fucking thing. What is that you want? You want to suck my fat cock?”

“Yes! Please!” Ransom’s mouth turns up into a devilish smirk. Lifting his hand up, he curls his finger, beckoning you to him.

You get almost to him, but he backs away, “No, no. Show me what you were doing just a minute ago. But hold your skirt up. I wanna watch. Show me how you get off when you think of me,” you gulp deeply as you walk back to the edge of the table. Lifting up your skirt when you settle yourself on the mahogany. Your lips spread over the wood, and it touches right on your clit, and you start grinding on it.

“There ya go. I bet that feels good on your desperate little cunt, hmm? You thinking of my cock splitting you open?”

“Yeah,” whining as you grind down even harder.

“Fucking you so hard that your head is pounding on headboard.”

“Yeah. Yes!”

“Have you screaming out ‘Fuck me harder, daddy,” your hips race your forward. Getting so close that you're panting out his name. Getting just right to edge, when Ransom places his hands on your shoulders and pushes you off the table, “I didn’t say you could come, you greedy little slut. Now let’s see how wet you are,” he shoves his fingers into your panties, and you moan when he gathers up your slick.

Holding out his hand, he stretches his fingers out, letting you see just how sticky and wet the mess in your panties is. Smiling at his fingers before he presses them past your lips, “Be a good girl, and clean me off,” closing your mouth around his fingers, you suck yourself off him. Circling your tongue around his thick digits. Almost creaming your panties when you hear him moan.

“Now, let's go say hey to your dad. I’m sure a good handshake covered in your juices is just what he needs. Stay wet and messy,” he walks out, leaving you alone and uncomfortable with how wet you are. Nothing left to do but follow him outside.

——

Ransom smirks at you from across the lawn. He has been having a steady conversation with your dad, but his eyes are always on you. He knows how uncomfortably soaked you are, and he finds it hilarious. It is a game to him to lick his lips, and readjust himself. Waiting until you were swishing your thighs together when you see his thick girthy cock in his palm. It was unfair.

Grunting, you stomp back inside. Needing to get something to drink. Who knew, maybe even taking a cold shower. Anything had to be better than what Ransom was doing to you. And the worst part was he knew! He knew that he was driving you crazy.

“Did I make you mad, Princess?”

“You’re making me crazy! I’m soaked, and I’m horny, and you knew. You knew what you were doing when…”

“You don’t like me teasing you?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you shake your head no. Ransom looks you up and down as he steadily walks closer to you. Getting right in front of you when he leans to your ear. Sniffing up the side of your neck. His breath on you went straight to your core as more slick floods your underwear, “Get on your knees.”

“What?” What was his game? What did he want from you?

“Get on your knees, and suck my cock, Princess. It’s hard and waiting on your filthy little mouth. Get on your knees now,” turning around, you can see the party going on outside. He wasn’t serious. The window was right there. Your dad was right there. With a view straight inside to you and Ransom.

“You want my cock? Well, here it is,” you look down between the two of you and his pretty cock is the only thing separating you. Beads of precum at the tip making it look all glistening and pretty, and you crave to taste it.

His thumb rubs over his slit, smearing his leaking juices over his thumb, and he paints the liquid on your lips, “Suck. My. Cock,” slowly you sink to your knees, kissing up his protruding vein, “As much as I would like for you to take your time, we do have an audience out there. You wouldn’t want daddy to see me fucking your pretty little face, would you?”

“Uh-uh,” you whine as he pushes his length into your mouth. You hollow out your cheeks, and grip the back of his thighs. Rolling your eyes up to look at him. His hand pets over your neck a moment before he starts thrusting into you. You let him take control. Allowing him to use your mouth as his personal fuck toy.

He holds tightly to your head as he fucks into you. His eyes moving from your pretty face, stuffed with him, and then out to the guests outside, “Have you seen my daughter?” Your dad yells. You try to scurry away, but Ransom holds you tighter. His pelvis propelling into you more.

“No. I think she had an upset stomach. Maybe she’s been stuffing her mouth full,” Ransom snorts. Casually talking to your dad while he drives into you. He glances back down to you. Your weight had settled on one of his feet, and while he was fucking your face, you were grinding on his foot like a bitch in heat.

“You think daddy can hear you gagging? You think he knows that you're drooling for my cock?” You whimper, holding onto him tighter. Undulating your hips, and soaking his foot with your arousal. You are dripping wet. Needy and ready to come. Sputtering around his member, your drool leaks down your neck. “You filthy little slut couldn’t wait for me to fuck one of her holes, could she? You gonna be my little slut? You gonna call me daddy instead?”

“Mhmm,” he pulls himself out of your mouth, and you gasp for air. Your lungs sting as oxygen rushes to fill them up. His cock slaps across your face, and you don't understand.

“Say it. Call me daddy. Tell me how bad you want my cock. Even though I feel that sloppy cunt throbbing on my foot. I need to hear you say it.”

“Daddy, I want you to fuck my face. Need you to come in my throat?” Grabbing your head, he crams himself back into your mouth. Stabbing into you so fast. So deep he was making your throat bulge out. And your body hunger for more air.

“Daddy’s gonna give it to you. Almost there. Gotta hurry. Can’t let anyone see you being my pretty little slut. Taking this big fat cock like a good girl. Uh! Uh! Oh!” His head tilts back, and his load shoots into the back of your throat. You moan at the salty musk that is Ransom. Your hips fuck down on him harder. Getting right there…

“I still didn’t tell you to come,” he meanly states, pushing you off him.

“Ransom! That’s not fair! I want to come, too.”

“What did you call me?”

“Daddy!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” his voice is so patronizing as he lifts your skirt, “Spread your legs. Let daddy see what a pitiful little pussy this is,” you do as you're told, and he moves your panties aside. Staring at your pulsing cunt with a smile. “Pitiful,” he lets a drip of his spit drop onto your pussy, and you moan at the cool sensation.

“What’s going on?” Your dad’s shadow falls into the kitchen, and over Ransom’s back, and you slap your hands over your skirt, covering yourself up.

“Oh, she fell,” Ransom says quickly. Nodding to your dad as Ransom offers his hand down to him. “I think maybe she should lay down somewhere. She was acting a bit delirious.”

Your dad looks between the two of you, clearly not believing a word that either of you had said, “You’ll miss the fireworks.”

“I’ve seen fireworks before. Ransom is right, dad, I just don’t feel right. Must be all the excitement today.”

“Go upstairs, third door on the left. There’s a window that you’ll be able to see all the fireworks,” you give him a nod as you walk up the stairs slowly. “Is everything okay?” Ransom asks with a smirk. He caught him spitting into your cunt. He knows his friend saw you all spread out for him.

“She fell, huh?” He asks. His eyes darkening as he walks closer. Looking down at the floor to see a wet spot. You were messy.

“Yep,” Ransom answers, popping his p. He holds his hands out shrugging, “I don’t know what to tell you. Your daughter is clumsy. She tends to make a mess, too. Did you know she was a messy little thing?”

“She’s not my real daughter,” he had to add that little bit of information. Had to let Ransom know when he was looking at you, it was okay.

“Yeah, but you did really marry her mom. Maybe you should go outside, daddy-o. Isn’t your wife finally awake?” He shakes his head no, starting to walk back out. Flinging his head towards the door. Wanting Ransom to follow. He had no such plans. He was going to fuck you during these fireworks. “Are you that lonely that you need me with you?”

“Are you?” His eyebrow cocks up, “Do you need me with you?”

“Touché. Listen, I don’t want to be crass, but…”

“She fell, huh? Is she going to fall again?”

“Yep. Fall right on my dick.”

——

“You ready to come, Princess? I got the perfect seat for you to enjoy your fireworks. Look at this seat daddy prepared for you,” Ransom fists his cock a few times as you walk closer to him. “There ya go. You gonna show daddy what you learned in school? I’m sure Harvard is all boring, but what did those boys teach you in your dorm?”

“I want you to fuck me, though,” tonight was all about you doing all the work. You wanted nothing more than for Ransom to take advantage of you. Didn’t care if everyone could hear you screaming. You wanted him.

“Oh, Princess, this first time I want you to show daddy what those silly college boys taught you. Sit on my lap. Let daddy stretch you out,” taking a deep breath, you walk over to Ransom. Straddling his legs, you grab the base of his cock, and run it through your slit.

Looking into Ransom’s eyes, you slowly sink down over him, biting at your lip. None of the boys from school felt like him. None of them looked like him. And when you sink balls deep on him, you know that none of them have ever been that deep. Couldn’t even wish to reach the depths that Ransom did, “Daddy!”

“I know, Princess. Daddy has such a big cock. You just sit like that until your pussy doesn’t hurt anymore. I got her all stretched out, huh?” You nod your head as you bite your lip. Overwhelmed because you finally feel Ransom. Finally have him inside of you. Something you have dreamed about for years. “You feel me in your belly, honey?”

“Yeah. But it feels good.”

“Yeah it does. You gonna let me cum in this tight little pussy? You are so pretty when you’re a mess,” you slowly start to grind over Ransom. Getting a better feel of him before you start to bounce on top of him. Letting your pussy suck him right back in as deep as you could take him. “Your titties do look pretty bouncing in my face.”

Fireworks boom outside the window, but you only see Ransom. His mouth chases your tits, just so he can give your buds a nibble. “Daddy!”

“I know, Princess. Daddy wouldn’t let you come earlier today, because it makes you that much more needy. It hasn’t been that long, and I feel your pussy fluttering around me. My god, I don’t even think I can last.”

BOOM, “Daddy!”

“Tell me what you need, Princess. Let daddy give it to you.”

BOOM! POP! “Daddy!”

“You keep getting louder. They can’t hear you. Tell daddy what you want.”

“Daddy! I wanna come! Daddy, let me come!”

“Your daddy will make sure you come,” Andy steps up behind you, those thick arms wrapping around your stomach. One hand spreads your lips further apart, while the other starts making tight circles over your clit. “Does my sweet girl wanna come?”

“Yes! Daddy, I wanna come!”

“Woah, woah. I’m daddy, and this is my princess,” Ransom pouts up at his best friend. He knew letting Andy watch was a bad idea. Sick bastard.

“Daddy is gonna help you come,” Andy moans, while you continue to ride Ransom, Andy has got you feeling like you're flying. Overstimulated, and then he starts to kiss along your neck, while Ransom starts sucking on your tit. His other hand rolls your nipples between his fingers. Everything felt good. Every part of you feels so fucking good. Your skin is buzzing with euphoria. “Go on, Princess. Come. Daddy’s gonna let you come.”

“Daddy!” You scream as your leg starts trembling. “Daddy! Daddy I’m coming! I’m coming!”

“Fuck, Andy, she’s got me in a vice grip. Squeezing me so fucking hard. There, baby. Keep riding daddy, yeah! Fuck yeah!” You moan as Ransom spurts creamy ribbons of his thick cum deep into your core. Your walls pulse around him, milking every bit of his spend out on him. “Fuck me!”

“I believe she just did. Princess, you okay?” You get a dopey smile on your face, whispering yes. “That was incredible. How long have you two been fucking?”

“Just this once, Andy. Now, I let you play with your daughter a bit, but why don’t you let me clean her up. You’re married. Don’t need to be fucking your daughter anyways.”

“Quit calling her my daughter! She’s not my real daughter,” your eyes start to slowly close as you let your high wash over you. You had him. He was still in you. He had filled you up, and it feels so fucking good.

“You’re just saying that because you want to fuck her. You,” both men stop when you get up, and lay on the bed on your back. “Princess, why don’t you spread your legs,” your eyes fully close, and you spread your legs. Putting your gaping cunt on display for both men.

They stare at your pretty and stretched out channel, and when Ransom's cum starts to leak out, they both gasp. “My god if that isn’t the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“She’s on birth control. Her mom was scared she was sleeping around too much in college. Let me guess, that was your doing?”

“Yeah, I don’t do virgins. They get attached too easily. Plus, I had her riding daddy’s cock like her life depended on it. Could you see how deep she took me from your angle?”

“Yes,” Andy rolls his eyes. “Saw you destroying her pussy.”

“Just wait until I fuck her. Mmm, my cock is getting hard again. If you don’t want to see me fuck your daughter in her sleep, I suggest you leave now. Because I’m going to fuck that slut right into the mattress. It’s too soon to share her. You were supposed to just watch.”

Andy Barber never just watches. He would fuck you too. He’d make Ransom watch as he pounds into you. Instead of going to you, Ransom grabs up a pen, “What are you doing?”

“Reminding her,” he says, scribbling ‘obedient’ on one inner thigh. ‘Good girl’ written on the other. “Princess, who owns your pussy?”

“You do, daddy. That’s daddy’s pussy,” Ransom looks back at his friend with a smile. “It’s all daddy’s. Whenever daddy wants it.”

“Daddy’s cumdump?”

“Uh huh,” you smile as he writes cumdump on your belly.

“Daddy's pretty little cum princess.”

“Yep,” Andy stomps out of the room, making sure to slam the door. And you pout up at Ransom.

“He’s just jealous that I’m going to pump you so full of cum, you won’t know what to do with yourself. My pretty little princess cumslut.”

“Just daddy’s.”

“Unless daddy wants to share?”

“Unless daddy wants to share,” oh Ransom is going to have too much fun with you. His personal little sex toy. One he was going to have a lot of fun playing with. And showing off. His little fuckdoll that wanted him to do whatever he wanted. And he would. “Daddy, I’m sleepy.”

“You want daddy to hold you while you take a nap?” Nodding your head, you make grabby hands up at Ransom, and he crawls into the bed beside you. “Okay, get some sleep, Princess. You gotta be rested, so I can fuck you, right?”

“Right. Shh.”

“I know. Sleep. Dream. And I’ll be right here.”

Masterlist

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#i'm not supposed to play with boys #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #ransom drysdale x y/n #ransom drysdale x you #DBF!Ransom drysdale #dbf!ransom #dbf!ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fics #ransom drysdale fic #chris evans #chris evans character

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squoxle · 5 months

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⛓️Laced with Love ~ Jake ff (18+)

⛓️pairing: Jake!bf x Reader!gf | ⛓️wc: 11.2k | ⛓️summary: You unexpectedly fall for Jake. The sweetest boy you've ever known, or so you thought |⛓️cw: 🔞MDNI!! heavy petting, oral sex f. & m. giving/receiving, unprotected sex, mentions of abuse, swearing, profanity (req by: anon) 𝑆𝑚𝑢𝑡 𝑆𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝐻𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑙𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑤／𝐹𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝐸𝑚𝑜𝑗𝑖❤️‍🔥

a.n: link to part 2

"Excuse me, ma'am. This is NOT what I ordered. I want a refund."

Here goes another Karen, complaining about an order they definitely made and just changed their mind after a sip. "Yes, you did Miss. If you have the receipt it should tell you right there," you replied trying to keep your cool. After all, this wasn't the first time someone like her tried to pull a stunt like this.

"I don't keep receipts, but I'm telling you that I most certainly did not order this. So you can either give me what I paid for or refund me my money." God her voice was so fucking annoying and you know she's lying, but you can't risk getting in trouble at work over some entitled middle-aged soccer mom.

"That's alright ma'am. We keep a merchant copy of receipts for situations like this," you proceeded to pull out a thin slip of paper showing the details of her order. "See ma'am. It's on the receipt, right here. A venti skinny matcha latte with almond milk," you pointed to the only item on the receipt.

"No, this can't be right. I asked for a light Caramel Frappuccino with oat milk." "Well that's not on the receipt and you've already finished most of the drink so I honestly don't understand how it took you so long to realize this wasn't your order before you decided to come up here." "You know what? I don't have to explain myself to you. I am not going to stand here and take this disrespect from some Gen Z brat. I'd like to speak to your manager. Where's your manager?" The woman proceeded to shout for the manager until he eventually came back from his smoke break.

Mr. Lee, but you usually called him by his first name. Well, only when you weren't at work. He was pretty cute, but also fairly young to be the manager. However, you couldn't deny the fact that he was the best manager you've ever met. You don't know if it was his big, brown, doe eyes or his perfect smile that seemed to make everything okay.

"What's going on in here?" "Are you the manager?" she panted frantically. "Yes ma'am I am. How can I help you?" "Oh thank god. This young lady is being very disrespectful. I came up here to inform her that my order was incorrect and that I'd like a refund. But she won't do it and I don't know why."

"Probably because you drank more than half of the damn thing before coming up here with that story," you butted in.

"Hold on kid. I got this," he said before walking behind the counter. "I'm sorry ma'am, but I can't refund your money for a drink that you claim to be the wrong order even though you sat there and drank it knowing that it wasn't right--" "I'm allergic to nuts!! Are you trying to kill me? Ahhh!!" "Ma'am you need to calm down. If you were truly allergic you would be having a reaction right now--" "I AM!! I feel like my skin is on fire!! I'M BURNING!!" she screamed before falling to the ground.

This woman was being absolutely ridiculous. Now she was faking an allergic reaction.

"Well then someone should call 911 and have you taken care of, right?" "No!! I'm afraid of hospitals are you insane?!" she shouted. "Ma'am it's obvious that you're faking so can you please get up and leave before I have you escorted by the police?" But she didn't get up, instead, she kept on screaming and hitting the floor. It wasn't long before one of the customers got up from their chair and proceeded to drag her out of the store. "Don't fucking touch me! Help! Somebody help me! This man is trying to assault me!"

"I hate dealing with people like that," you said rubbing your forehead. "Yea, I hate em' too. But look at it this way, that was the last customer for your shift," he smiled patting you on the shoulder. "Yea, I guess you're right," you sighed untying your apron and placing it on the hook.

Instead of taking an Uber home, you decided to walk. You didn't live very far away and you kinda wanted to take this time to clear your mind. Balancing school and work was challenging on its own, you didn't need energy vampires like Karen to stress you out.

You were walking through the city park as a dog ran up to you. "Woah! Down boy...or girl!" the dog tackled you to the ground and licked the left side of your face. "Ugh!"

PHWEEET!!

The ear-piercing whistle caught the attention of the dog hovering over your body.

"Here boy! Come on! Tsk Tsk." the dog bounced over to a dark-haired boy waving a frisbee over his head. "Go get it!" He shouted, flinging the plastic disk far away. You watched as the dog ran after the frisbee.

"Are you okay?" The boy asked, extending a hand towards you. You didn't even notice he was standing that close to you. "Oh, umm...yea. I'm good. Thanks," you replied as he pulled you up to your feet.

"I'm Jake," he smiled. "I'm Y/N," you replied. "Nice to meet you Y/N. Oh and sorry about Jasper," he chuckled. "Is that your dog?" "No, it's that kid's," he said pointing to the little boy that ran behind the dog you now knew as Jasper. "He's actually really sweet. And he likes meeting new people," Jake turned to look at the dog lying on his back while the little boy scratched his belly.

You took the chance to look at Jake. He was really cute and seemed like a nice guy. If you weren't covered in dog droll and walking home from work you'd probably stick around to get to know him a little more. But you were tired, so you decided to just go home.

"Hey, do you wanna go meet him? Well...meet him again?" Jake smiled awkwardly. "Oh, umm I--sure."

*Okay, never mind. I guess sleep can come later* you thought to yourself as you followed behind Jake.

"Bye. See you guys tomorrow," the boy waved as he walked over to his parent's minivan with Jasper. After about an hour--that felt like 10 minutes--passed, you were left alone with Jake. You actually had a lot of fun playing around with Jasper and Colin--that was the name of the little kid who owned the dog.

"You're really good with dogs and kids. Do you have any siblings?" "No, I'm an only child. But I've always managed to surround myself with enough people that it feels like I have one really big family," Jake went on to tell you about a few stories from his childhood. You loved how it was so easy to talk to him. On top of that, he was naturally funny which made him even more attractive.

"Ooh, I just got the biggest craving for ice cream. Do you want some?" "Yea sure," you giggled as you saw the expression on his face. "Awesome. There's a place close by. It's really good." You followed Jake to the small sweet shop around the corner. "There're only a few flavors and some basic toppings. They sell cake too," he beamed as he opened the door for you.

"Hi, Jake!" a girl smiled from behind the counter. "Do you want the same thing as usual?" she asked. "Yes please, thank you," he smiled. "Ok ok, and what would you like ma'am?" you read her name tag: Xoey. "Umm, I'll just take the same thing he got," you smiled awkwardly.

"Are you sure?" "Sorry, this is her first time coming here. Can you get her a menu?" "A menu? No way. She can have this," Xoey said picking up a mini spoon. "This is a newbie scoopy. It's for newcomers who don't know what they want. We have three basic types of ice cream: Strawberry Swirl, Chocolate Fudge, and Simply Vanilla. The toppings are pretty basic too: strawberry, chocolate, and caramel syrups. But--the special part is what you add in. That's how you make your own flavor. We have an array of mix-ins to choose from," Xoey then handed you three mini spoons with each ice cream flavor on it. You tasted them all. Creamy and delicious. "Oh, and we also have a recipe book of possible flavor combinations," Xoey added as she flipped out a colorful book, plastered to a rotating stand.

"Here ya go Jakey," Xoey smiled, handing Jake his ice cream. He watched as you created your ice cream concoction. "Hey, Xo. Just so you know I'm paying for her okay." "Save your money. The first cup is on the house Jakey," she smiled as she handed you your creation. "Enjoy," she smiled. "Thank you," you smiled back.

"Do you like it?" he asked. "I haven't even tried it yet," Jake picked up the spoon and put it in your mouth. "Mmn!" " So, how's it taste?" "Good," you mumbled with a mouthful of ice cream.

Jake giggled a bit after you said that. "What?" you mumbled again, tossing the cold cream around in your mouth, careful to cover your mouth with your hand. "You're just cute that's all," you couldn't help but get that warm feeling in your face at his words.

After finishing your ice cream, the two of you exchanged numbers. "Maybe we can hang out again sometime," Jake smiled as he tucked his phone in his pocket. "Yea, I'd like that," you smiled back. "Hmm. It's getting dark outside and I don't mind walking you home. Just to make sure you get there safely." "Thanks, Jake, I really appreciate it, but that won't be necessary." "Hmm, well I'll send you some money for a car." "You don't have to--" You felt your phone buzz in your back pocket. Jake had sent you $30 on CashApp.

"What the--" "I'll wait with you until it arrives." "You're really not gonna let me go home alone are you?" "Nope. So we're either gonna stand here until the sun comes up or you're gonna call an Uber." "It's just that I don't live far enough from here. An Uber would be useless." "Okay fine, then call me and stay on the phone until you get home alright. Does that work for you?" "Yea, that works," you chuckled.

As you agreed, you stayed on the phone with Jake until you made it home. "Alright, I'm home now." "Great. Well, I guess this is goodbye." "Hmm...yea." "Goodnight, Y/N." "Goodnight, Jake," you smiled before ending the call.

This was not the way you expected your evening to end, but you definitely weren't mad about it.

Weeks went by as you and Jake grew closer together. He loved you and he loved showing you in a number of ways. He really was the sweetest boy you ever met and you were excited to see him every time you'd see each other.

Today, you and Jake were just hanging out at the mall. "Hey, I wanna introduce you to my best friends, Sunghoon and Jay. They're really awesome and I think you'll like them too." "Okay. When do you want me to meet them?" "Today...if that's okay with you," Jake said shyly. "Yea sure that's fine," you smiled.

"Oh oh come on. Let's make a wish at the fountain," Jake laughed as he grabbed your hand dragging you to the mall's giant water fountain. "Okay okay! Jake! Slow down," you giggled behind him. "Alright, you go first," he smiled, handing you a coin. "Hmm, okay. I wish that Jake's friends would like me and I would like them too," You closed your eyes and tossed the coin in the water, opening your eyes after hearing the splash. You turned to see Jake holding the coin to his chest with his eyes closed. You watched as his lips softly mouthed some words before tossing the coin in.

"What'd you wish for?" "Ah ah ah. I can't tell you or else it won't come true." "No fair! I told you what I wished for," you playfully pushed him. "Fine, if you tag me I'll tell you." "Promise?" "Promise," he said before tapping you on the shoulder and running off.

You chased behind him before stopping to catch your breath. "Jake?" you called out, scanning the vast area. "Dammit," you cursed under your breath. "Boo!" Jake shouted from behind you, wrapping you tightly in his arms. "Ahh! Wait...I'm supposed to catch you remember?" "Oops," Jake said. "Tag! I win!" you smiled as you reached to tap Jake's hand with your fingers. "Hehe. Yup, you win. I guess I gotta tell you my wish now huh?" "Yup," you grinned.

"I wished for you to be my girlfriend," Jake said softly still holding you in his arms. You looked up to meet his eyes. "Are you being serious right now?" "Yea, I am. I've liked you for a long time now. I love how I can be myself around you. And I love you," you turned to face Jake who was now blushing a little.

You'd had feelings for Jake for a while now too, but you didn't want to say anything and mess up the little friendship the two of you had. But now, here he was, standing in front of you, confessing his feelings.

"It's okay if you don't like me back. It was just a silly wi--" You cut Jake off by kissing him on the cheek. His eyes widened and he gave you a puppy look before smiling and pulling you in for a kiss.

"I don't want to sound dramatic, but this is literally the best day of my life," Jake smiled before kissing you on the forehead. "Okay now I really gotta introduce my friends to my girlfriend," he giggled before holding your hand and walking out of the mall.

You and Jake were driving in the car on your way to Jake's apartment. You felt like his passenger princess the way he rested his hand on your thigh for most of the ride. This was your first time coming over to Jake's apartment so you didn't know what to expect.

He finally arrived at this beautiful complex that felt more like a gated neighborhood for spoiled, privileged kids living off of their parent's money. You weren't judging Jake, but the other people you saw hanging around the area looked like a bunch of dumb frat boys and preppy girls. Almost like something you'd see in some hyper-unrealistic college movie.

"I just wanted to let you know that Sunghoon and Jay are also my roommates. So, you'll be seeing a lot of them whenever you come over," Jake said as he parked the car. "Oh, that's fine. I don't mind." You felt Jake's eyes staring at you as you reapplied your cotton candy lipgloss. "What?" you asked, snapping him out of a trance-like state. "Oh, nothing. Sorry. You're just so perfect. I still can't believe you said yes," he stammered before getting out of the car and coming around to open your door.

Jake pulled out a keycard covered in stickers and waved it in front of the electronic lock.

*Beep Beep--Click*

"Guys, there's someone I want you to meet," Jake said as he opened the door. "Who? Your mom?" one of the boys joked as he walked in. "It's probably your mom, Jay. Huh Jake?" Jake laughed as he headed to the kitchen with you tailing behind him. "Hey, do you want something to drink?" "Sure I'll take a water," you said as Jake handed you a cold water bottle from the fridge.

"Alright guys, all jokes aside. This is my girlfriend, Y/N," Jake said as he walked into the living room with his hand around your waist. "Right...are you sure you're his girlfriend or did he pay you to come in here and say that?" the boy you now knew as Jay asked. "Ha ha, very funny Jay. She's actually my girlfriend," Jake responded before you could say anything.

"Well, it's just been a while since you had a girlfriend...and I'm sure you remember Becca right?" the other boy you assumed to be Sunghoon added. "Relax, Hoon. I've moved on from her a long time ago. Plus, Y/N is nothing like my ex," Jake replied nonchalantly.

"Okay well, I'm Sunghoon and this is Jay. We literally live here so if you two decide to have sex at any time while we're home, please either change your mind or keep it down. I'm not really a fan of hearing my best friend railing his girlfriend," Jay snickered before laying down his version of the house rules. "My only request is to clean up after yourselves. I don't mind helping out, but I'm not your maid. Also, be careful walking around the neighborhood at night time, they've got some weird ass people out here."

Mental Note to Self: Sex should either be quiet or done somewhere else, don't make a mess, and don't go out alone at night.

You hung around Jake's apartment for a few hours watching them play the game before you fell asleep on Jake's lap. The feeling of him stroking your head was so relaxing, that it was hard to stay awake. When you finally did wake up it was night time and you were alone with Jake.

"Where'd your friends go?" you asked in a sleepy voice. "They went to go order some food. Pizza. I hope you like that," he chuckled softly. "Yea, pizza is good. As long as there's no pineapple." "What?! No pineapple?! But it's so good." "No way. Pineapple and pizza are definitely not a match made in heaven." "Okay well, what is Miss Pizza Connoisseur?" "Pepperoni. It's a classic." "What if it's pepperoni with pineapple?" "Oh god no. That's even worse," you laughed.

"Have you ever even tried pineapple on pizza?" "No, but it sounds like a crime so it probably is." "Ha! You can't knock it until you try it," Jake smirked. "I'm not putting that in my mouth." "Well, what if I do it," Jake said as he grazed your lips with his thumb. "I-umm," you couldn't believe he was getting you all flustered just by touching your lips. "Here I'll even make it a bet. If you don't like it, then I owe you a fondue date. But, if you do like it then you owe me a surprise date. How's that sound?" You were still speechless from earlier, but you managed to mutter out "Yes," which made Jake laugh.

"Honey! I'm home!" Sunghoon said as he barged in holding two boxes of pizza. You and Jake went to the kitchen to grab a slice of pizza. "Hold on! Before anyone gets any pizza, Y/N is going to try pineapple pizza for the very first time," Jake smiled mischievously as he pulled out a cheesy slice of pineapple and ham pizza. Jake caught the end of the cheesy string with his tongue and bit it off.

"Alright. A deal's a deal. Open up," Jake said as you opened your mouth to take the first bite. It actually wasn't as bad as you'd expected. Though you'd probably never order it for yourself. As you were chewing, Jake tilted your face to the side and licked the corner of your mouth. "There was something on your face," he smirked.

"Damn ladies! Get a room," Sunghoon cringed. Jake just leaned against the countertop and laughed at Sunghoon's remark. "While you two enjoy your pizza, I just wanted to let you know that I picked up a liter of Coke," Jay said as he reached to pull down 4 tall glasses. "Oh, thanks. Do you want some too?" Jake asked. "Yea sure," you chuckled awkwardly.

Jake walked over to grab a glass for you and him, filled it with ice, and poured in the dark, fizzy drink.

"Oh and if you want you can stay here for the night," Jake offered as he passed you your soda. "Ehh, that's alright. I have work in the morning," you sighed before sipping your drink. "I can drive you there. You know I don't mind." "That's sweet Jake, but I got it." "Hmm okay, well just let me know when you're ready for me to take you home."

After eating you joined Jake and his friends in the living room to play a few card games. You were on your fifth round of Uno and you were getting a little sleepy, but you didn't want to bother Jake with driving you home. So you planned to just take an Uber.

*Ring Ring*

You're phone rang in your pocket. It was your manager calling. *What could he want at this hour* you thought to yourself. "Hey, Jake." "Yea?" "My manager's calling me. I'm gonna step out and answer this okay. It shouldn't be too long." "Okay, but don't go too far," Jake said as you headed toward the door.

You walked a good little distance away from the apartment. Specifically, you stood next to Jake's car to answer the call.

"Hey Heeseung. Why are you calling me this late? Is everything okay?" "Yea, everything is fine. I just wanted to let you know that I won't be in tomorrow. I have to go to a doctor's appointment with my mom." "Oh my god. Is she okay?" "Well, she said her chest has been hurting a lot and she's been coughing nonstop. So, I just want to get her checked out." "I hope she's okay." "Yea me too," Heeseung was quiet for a bit before continuing.

"You'll be in charge tomorrow. I need you to cover the whole shift as the manager. If it's too much to handle, just let me know and I'll have someone else cover for me." "No, that's alright. I can handle it." "Thanks, you're the best. I owe you big time." "It's no problem, family's important." "Alright well, that's all I needed to talk to you about. Goodnight, Y/N." "Goodnight, Hee," you said before ending the call.

"Meow!" you heard an unfamiliar voice catch your attention. "Excuse me?" you scoffed as you saw a frat boy from earlier walking your way. "Hey, beautiful. Wanna swing by my place for a few drinks?" he asked as he looked you up and down. "No thanks. I'd rather drink bleach." "Aww come on. I just wanna play with you, Kitty," he said flicking your shirt up. "Hey, what the fuck is wrong with you!" You spat pushing him away. "Stop playing hard to get. I know how much kitties love milk," this time the boy pressed his body against you, grinding his hard-on against your pussy through your jeans. "GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME DICKHEAD!!" you shouted as he leaned over to breathe his alcohol-tainted breath into your ear. "Shh baby. Unless you want my friends to come out here and join the party," he proceeded to cover your mouth, pressing your head into the hood of Jake's car. "MMPH!!" you grunted as you tried to push the boy off of you. Tears started to fill your eyes as you felt defeated. The boy struggled to unbutton his jeans while you laid crushed under his body weight. He let out a slight chuckle as you closed your eyes tightly.

You heard a loud smack before feeling the weight of the frat boy fall off of you. Jake had punched him straight in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. Sunghoon trailed behind him and stomped on the boy's head and he laid there with his pants halfway down his legs. Jay came out with a wooden baseball bat as Jake turned around to face you.

"Are you okay?" "Yea, yea I'm fine," you said as he pulled you into his chest. "Let's get you inside," he said as he quickly rushed you into the house.

"I'm gonna fucking kill that guy," Jake spat as he paced around the room. He had taken you to his room for the night. "You're staying here. And I'm taking you to work in the morning." Seeing Jake right now you were in no mood to argue on this one. You felt everything but fine at the moment. You were almost raped and if they hadn't heard you...you don't know what else would've happened.

"We kicked his ass real good and the cops got him," Jay said as he walked into Jake's room. "How's she doing?" Sunghoon asked. "She said she's fine, but I know that's not true," Jake sighed in frustration. "I'm sorry, Y/N." "It's not your fault Jake." "What if I didn't get there in time?" "But you did. All of you did and I really appreciate that."

Jake placed a kiss on your forehead before standing up. "If you want to take a shower and wash that asshole off you can put on my clothes," Jake said as he walked toward the door. "Where are you going?" you asked, sitting on his bed. "I need to cool off, before I do something I regret," he said as he pushed through Sunghoon and Jay.

"Don't worry. He'll be alright. But you really should get yourself cleaned up," Sunghoon sighed. "Yea, and I can wash your clothes to have them ready for the morning," Jay added, flashing a comforting smile.

You went to Jake's dresser to pull out a folded vintage band tee. Then a pair of sweatpants and boxers. Yes, wearing Jake’s boxers felt extremely strange, but in your mind it was better than going commando.

You grabbed a towel from the stack of fresh ones under the bathroom counter and started the shower. You almost didn’t even want to go to work tomorrow, but Heeseung needed you. Plus, your bills aren’t waiting for you to get over this little shake up.

After your shower you wrapped your clothes in the towel you used to dry yourself off with. “Umm, Jay,” you asked awkwardly. “Where do I put my clothes?”

“I’ll take them,” he said walking in your direction. “We have a washer in the laundry room. You can go to sleep in Jake’s bed.” “Okay, thanks. Has Jake come back yet?” “Uhh no, but he’ll be back soon. You should get some rest though. You have work in the morning. But if you’re scared to be alone just let me know. I don’t mind staying in there until you fall asleep,” Jay said in a comforting tone. “That’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

Jay nodded his head before walking away to the laundry room with your clothes. You really appreciated Jay’s kind gesture, but you didn’t want to send him through anymore unnecessary drama. He was right, you needed to get some rest for work in the morning. Since you’ll be managing for the day you have to get there early.

>>4:15 am Friday:

*Beep Beep*

The alarm on your phone woke you up before the sun. You managed to get about 4 hours of sleep, which was hopefully enough to power you through the day. You had slept so well that you didn't even notice that you were in Jake's bed...wearing his clothes. "Jake?" you called sitting up in the bed only to see him sitting across from you fast asleep at his desk. You quietly tiptoed out of the room, careful not to wake him up.

You walked to the bathroom to take care of your hygiene. However, without a toothbrush, mouthwash will have to suffice. You swished the minty liquid around your mouth before spitting it into the sink and washing your face with the white bar of soap that sat on a dish near the sink.

You left the bathroom and headed to the kitchen to get yourself something to eat. You scanned the counter for a fruit bowl. "Sorry, I didn't sleep with you last night." "Oh my god! Jake, you scared me," you jumped turning to see the sleepy boy standing on the other side of the counter rubbing his eyes. He was still wearing the clothes from last night.

"I just didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable...I was going to sleep on the couch, but I wanted to be there if you woke up and needed anything. I'm really sorry, Y/N." "Jake...it's okay. What time did you come in last night?" "Umm, I think it was a little after midnight. I just remember Jay telling me that you had gone to bed not too long ago."

"Did someone call my name?" "Good morning Jay," Jake groaned. "Morning you two. How're you feeling today Y/N? Better?"

"Yea, thanks for everything." "No problem. Oh, and your clothes are on the coffee table," he pointed to the stack of neatly folded clothes that sat on the edge of the coffee table. "Hmm. I didn't even notice them sitting there."

Jay walked to the fridge and pulled out a metal water bottle. "I'm going out for a run. I probably won't see you until after you get off. Well, that is if you come back over," Jay shrugged before walking back to his room to grab a baseball cap.

Jake dropped you off at work at 5:30 am. Heeseung was outside waiting for you to inform you of what to do in case of an emergency and a few other business-related things. "Okay, Hee. I got it. Don't worry. Go take care of your mom," you smiled as Heeseung pouted. "Call me if anything goes wrong okay." "Oookay. I will. Byeee," you giggled as you pushed Heeseung out.

Work was the last place you wanted to be today, but you had to do this for Hee. Plus, work wasn't too bad as long as you didn't have to deal with any...Karens...

"Get your finger out of my face Bitch," you heard a customer shout at a table near the window. *Oh no...here we go again* you thought to yourself.

After dealing with that problem, you prayed that you were done with drama for the day.

"Hey, I think those guys are looking for you," one of your co-workers whispered to you pointing in the direction of the two college-aged boys that just walked in.

"How can I help you, boys?" you asked in your best cheery customer service voice. "Uhh, we'll take two glasses of water." "Okay, anything else?" "No, that's good." You felt obligated to pull out your notepad, but two glasses of water were simple enough to remember. It was still a bit strange to you that two boys come in and order water...at Starbucks. However, you were in no mood to play Nancy Drew. You had about 5 hours left on your shift and this was the last order before you could take another 30-minute break that would most likely be taken up by checking on Heeseung and his mom.

You prepared the two iced glasses of water and placed them on a tray. As you walked back to the main dining area you noticed one of the boys was gone. "Umm, here you go sir," you tried not to seem suspicious, but you couldn't deny the bad vibes this duo radiated.

"Thank you," the other boy surprised you, causing you to bump into the table, knocking the drinks over. "Oh my god. I'm so sorry," you scrambled, grabbing the tissue box from the center of the table using more than half of them to pick up the spill. You slid the cold ice cubes across the table onto the tray you used to carry the glasses. "I'll get you boys another drink." "Take your time," one of them said as you quickly walked off.

You poured them two replacement glasses of water and carried them over to the table. *God that was so embarrassing* you thought to yourself.

You walked outside to take your first break and called to check on Heeseung and his mom. Luckily it was all good news. His mom just had an infection in her lungs that should clear up in a few days.

After your break, you headed back inside to see the boys still sitting where you left them. Most of the ice in their glasses had melted and they'd barely drank more than a few sips. You went over to check on them a few minutes later to see if they needed anything else, but all they said was, "We're just waiting for someone," with the fakest smile you'd ever seen plastered on their face.

It was time for you to close the dining area and shut it down for the night so you went over to tell the boys that they had to leave now. They were the last people to go as you shut off the lights. Most of your night crew stuck around to help you tidy up and left early, as usual.

You decided to walk home. You didn't really want to go back to that neighborhood by Jake...at least not right now.

You left out the back door exit for employees only that led down the trash alley. Turning the corner you saw the same two boys from earlier standing on the corner by a street light. The icky feeling returned almost instantly when you saw them so you decided to walk a different way home.

The sound of footsteps trailing behind you scared you enough, but turning around to see the footsteps came from the two boys made that fear even worse. Out of instinct, you took off running as fast as your feet could carry you. Unfortunately, it wasn't fast enough. The boys caught up to you, one pinned you up in a chokehold while the other pulled out a switchblade.

"You got our boy locked up kitten. I really hope you didn't think we were gonna let you slide did you?" the boy holding the switchblade said as he stepped closer to you driving the tip of his switchblade into your collarbone. You winced at the sharp pain and fought to hold back tears.

The boy who was holding you licked the side of your face, his breath alone was enough to make you queasy. The other boy chuckled at your reaction and cut your cheek in the spot that had been licked. Your scream was muffled by a hand. No way were you just gonna sit here and let yourself be taken advantage of.

You bit down on the boy's hand hard enough to draw blood, causing him to release his grip. You kicked the other boy right between his legs, dropping him to the ground. Immediately you took off running back to the cafe.

You scrambled to quickly unlock the doors and lock yourself in. You didn't hesitate to call Jake and let him know what was going on. "Stay where you are. I'm on my way," Jake said before cutting the call. You could hear the boys pounding on the door and shouting all the horrible things they were gonna do to you once they broke the door down.

The sound of a car screeching diverted their attention. For about 20 minutes, everything was completely silent.

*Knock knock knock*

"It's just me," you heard Jake yell from the other side of the door. Without hesitation, you opened the door and fell into his arms.

This was the second time Jake saved your life. "Where'd those guys go?" you asked as Jake drove you to his house. "I took care of them. Don't worry about it."

Initially, you didn't want to go back to Jake's apartment, but now you didn't want to be alone. Once you arrived at the apartment, you called to tell Heeseung what happened.

"What the fuck? Are you alright?" "Yea, I'm fine now." "Hey, if you want, you can take the week off. Just until everything cools down." "But--" "I'll pay you for your time off. Just think of it as a little vacation okay. And please call me if you ever feel unsafe alright. I don't care what I'm doing, I'll be there for you."

It was comforting to hear those words coming from him. Aside from being your manager Heeseung has been a very reliable friend to you ever since you first met.

"Who was that?" Jake asked. "It was just my manager," you shrugged, tucking your phone away. "What did he want?" "I was just telling him about what happened tonight. He said I can have the week off." "Oh well that's pretty kind of him," Jake said before walking away.

You were very curious about what exactly happened to those two boys that night. Not like you genuinely cared, but nonetheless, you wanted to know.

>>8:47 am, Monday:

You hadn't been back at your apartment in days. Ever since that night, you've been sleeping with Jake because you were too afraid to be alone. What if those guys were still out there? On your way to the kitchen, you walked into the living room to see Sunghoon on the couch sipping a hot cup of coffee while watching the news. "Hey, are these the guys that harassed you the other night?" Sunghoon asked upon meeting your gaze.

You turned to look at the television to see the faces of both boys and came closer to listen.

"The bodies of two college boys, Kenan Lanes, and Parker Ansley, were found this morning with their throats slit in an alley not too far from city park. The cause of death appears to be a loss of blood as well as damage to the brain most likely caused by a devastating blow to the head. We are under the assumption that their death was related to drug and gang violence based off of their previous criminal record."

You felt your stomach turn as you thought of the last time you saw them. *Did Jake do this?* you thought to yourself. *No way. There was no way he was capable of something like this*

Without saying a word you walked back to the room to find Jake still lying in the bed. "Did you kill those boys?" "What are you talking about?" "The boys from that night?" "No, why would you think that?" "Because..." "Because what?" "Nevermind," you couldn't bring yourself to accuse him of something like that.

"But if I did kill them, it would've been because of you. I'd do anything to protect you," He said as you walked away.

After about a couple days, you completely abandoned the idea of Jake doing something like that. Honestly, it felt like everything had returned to normal. You had gone back home, but you still see him almost every day. He had become very protective of you and honestly, the best boyfriend you could ever imagine.

>>2:07pm Thursday:

You and Jake were lying in his bed and out of curiosity you asked about his childhood and...his ex-girlfriend. He explained to you how his dad used to beat him and his mom and that his first relationship ended due to his girlfriend's infidelity. But what made it worse was that the guy she cheated on him with was her ex and every time he'd bring up the fact that she was being unfaithful she'd hit him.

"Hey, guess what I just remembered?" Jake asked as you rested your head on his chest. "What?" "I owe you a fondue date." "Oh, right I had completely forgotten about that." "I think it'll be a good way to take your mind off of things," Jake suggested in an attempt to liven the mood. To be honest, the past few days have been pretty gloomy, but he was right. You were going back to work in three days and some alone time with him would be pretty great.

>>6:50pm Friday:

You and Jake sat on his bedroom floor. "I know this isn't the most romantic setting, but at least we don't have to worry about grossing out my roommates," Jake chuckled as he stirred the hot chocolate with the mini wooden spoon. "Have you ever had fondue before?" He continued.

"Nope, but it seems fairly simple."

"Basically," Jake said, grabbing a metal skewer. "You take a strawberry and put it on the stick," he said, picking up a strawberry and shoving the skewer through it. "After that, you dip it in the chocolate. Be careful, it's hot," he dipped the strawberry, coating it completely with chocolate before blowing in it to cool it down. "There's coconut oil in it. So as it cools, it creates a shell that's the best part," he smiled. "Now open up," he said opening his mouth as he pointed the chocolate-covered berry in your direction.

You bit into the strawberry, causing a little juice to run down the skewer onto his fingers which he sucked off before handing you a stick. "Now you try."

You carefully followed the same steps as Jake and brought the chocolate-coated berry to his mouth. Just like when you bit into it, the juice ran down the skewer onto your fingers. Jake pulled your hand to his lips and sucked the sweet liquid from your fingers. You had no idea how a fondue date could be so sexual.

This process continued for a bit before Jake got creative. He dipped his own finger into the hot chocolate and you sucked it off. You could feel the sexual tension deepening now as the next berry Jake dipped he let some of the hot chocolate drip onto your thigh. He bent down to suck it off, this time leaving a mark behind.

❤️‍🔥

He pulled your top over your head as he began kissing your neck and breasts. You stroked your fingers through his fluffy dark hair as he pleasured himself between your tits. He then took another berry and dripped more chocolate onto your breasts following the same process as before, sucking and licking the chocolate up. You winced every time the hot chocolate touched your skin but anticipated his lips following after. The sensation of your touch led him to remove his shirt and crawl on top of you.

Jake reached down to tuck his fingers in between your hot wet lips. He inserted two fingers feeling the way your walls pulsated around his fingers as he pushed them in and out. He then took his fingers out and sucked your wetness off. Then he took one of the strawberries and used the tip of it to stimulate your clit. Spreading your lips he watched as your pussy dripped with clear cum which he caught with the strawberry and brought it to his lips.

"You taste better than the fondue," he giggled before leaning in to lap at your pussy. He leaned over to unplug the machine, cover it with a lid, and slide it under his desk. "Here, you try it," he said as he spit on your pussy and mixed your juices with his saliva. He held the strawberry in his mouth as he fed it to you.

Distracted by Jake mouth-feeding you a strawberry, you didn't notice when Jake pulled out his hard throbbing cock until you felt him pushing it through your opening. "Ngh!" you exclaimed at the sudden feeling. His dick was so thick, you could feel it stretching your walls. The pain came with pleasure as he pumped himself inside of you. You two were still exchanging saliva as he tongue fucked your mouth. You couldn't help but grind your hips against his as he pushed his dick deeper into your pussy. You moaned into his mouth causing him to fuck you a little faster.

"Mmm fuck, Jake," you moaned as you felt every inch and every vein coursing through you. You breathlessly moaned his name again, causing him to pound your pussy harder. "Fuck, Baby. I love it when you moan my name." Jake occasionally let out soft little groans which only turned you on more. "You like that?" he asked upon hearing your moans grow louder. "Ugh, fuck! Mhnn, yes," you whined as he continued to thrust himself inside of your throbbing cunt. "Mmm, your moans are so fucking sexy babe," Jake's voice quivered a bit as he said this.

He pushed your thighs back, exposing your pussy to him. You held onto the backs of your knees as he mercilessly pounded your aching pussy. "Ngh! FUCK! Jake, I can't hold it back anymore," you pleaded as you felt your pussy contracting. You arched your back as you felt your climax approaching. "Cum for me baby," Jake groaned in your ear as he fucked you on his bedroom floor. You moaned as you squirted on the floor.

Fortunately for you, Sunghoon and Jay weren't home at the moment. Otherwise, they all would've heard you moaning Jake's name.

Jake lifted you off of the ground. Your legs were still shaking from your orgasm. He walked you to the bathroom and started up the shower for you. You leaned over the bathroom counter to hold yourself up while Jake turned on the water. "Hold on, I'll be right back with some towels okay," Jake said before leaving the bathroom.

You reached between your legs to feel that your pussy was still oozing with cum and the stimulation from your touch made you crave a second round. Though your body was telling you 'no' your mind was saying 'yes.'

Jake returned shortly after with a stack of towels. "Alright, let's get you cleaned up," Jake smiled as he carefully guided you to the shower. He was only wearing sweatpants at the moment. Fortunately, you were able to use the railing and the rim of the tub for support, as your legs were still a bit wobbly.

You sat down and started to wash yourself, but decided to cum at least one more time before cleaning up. Just then you felt a cool wind behind you, it was Jake entering the shower with his rock-hard dick. He immediately saw the way you had your hands tucked between your legs, pleasing yourself. The sight of you sitting in front of him wet, naked, and horny caused his dick to twitch. "Hmm, looks like I'm not the only one in the mood for another round," Jake smiled, stroking his cock.

He approached your face, pulling your hair to tilt your head back as he inserted his dick into your mouth. "Suck it, baby. Suck my dick with those pretty fucking lips," he smirked as you bobbed your head up and down his shaft. He groaned as you pulled back to suck on his pink, fleshy tip that leaked pre cum. You maintained eye contact as you spit on his dick and jerked his cock a few times before putting it back in your mouth. "Ugh hmm," he moaned as you shoved his dick deep down your throat, nearly making you gag.

Seeing the way your eyes rolled back when his dick reached your throat, turned him on more. He grabbed your head and held it close while he grinded your face. You felt him repeatedly jamming his cock in your mouth before shoving it deep and holding it there while he moaned in your mouth. "Ngh, baby. I need your pussy," he whined as he pulled his sticky dick from between your lips.

You braced yourself up against the wall as Jake pounded your pussy from behind. You couldn't even speak at this point, you were letting Jake use you as his personal sex doll. You felt the water hit your back as Jake continued to fuck you harder and deeper, gripping your ass, waist, and tits which made him more excited. You heard him groan as he filled you with his hot, sticky load.

❤️‍🔥

You and Jake finished up in the shower before crashing, completely naked, in his bed.

A few days later, you returned to work and everything was great for the next month.

"Hey, Y/N. Do you wanna hang out today after your shift?" Heeseung asked as you wiped off the counter. "Yea, sure."

It had been a while since you and Heeseung went out for drinks, primarily due to the fact that you had been so busy with Jake and everything. Not that you were complaining, you loved Jake and Jake loved you. But you did miss spending time with Heeseung. So after your shift, you climbed into his car as he drove you to your favorite club.

You and Heeseung bought a couple drinks and caught each other up on what's been going on since you last spoke. You told him about how you'd been doing since the incident and he told about how his mom was feeling much better.

"Okay let's play a game," Heeseung suggested. "What game?" you asked. "Drink or die," he said. "Drink or die? How do you play that?" "Okay so basically, it's like truth or dare. And if you chicken out you have to take a drink. The game ends when one of us finishes our drink," you were already fairly tipsy, but a game didn't seem like a bad idea.

"Hmm, sounds pretty easy," you said as the bartender placed two suicide cocktails in front of you. These were the strongest drinks on the menu which made them perfect for a game like this. "Okay, I'll go first," Heeseung smiled readjusting himself in the chair. "Alright, truth or dare?" "Truth." "Have you ever peed in a pool?" "Starting easy I see. And yes. To be honest, I think everyone has at least once in their lives." "True, true," you nodded.

"Your turn. Truth or dare?" "Hmm...truth." "What's the strangest rumor you've ever heard about yourself?" "Umm, one time back in fifth grade all of the kids used to tease me about a bump on my foot. They said I was growing a third toe because I was some kind of alien." "That's crazy. Okay, my turn," Heeseung chuckled. "Truth or dare?" "Truth...actually dare." "Hmmm let me see," you said scanning the room. "Oh oh, I know. Whisper something dirty to the bartender," you snickered as Heeseung sighed before whistling to get the female bartender's attention. Whatever he said must've been pretty wild because that girl was blushing for the rest of the night.

"Your turn," he grinned mischievously. "What's your biggest sex fantasy?" You didn't hesitate to take a sip from your drink. "Aww come on," he whined. "You just made me do that freaky ass shit so it's only fair we make it even." "Okay, well ask me something else." "Uh uh. You didn't want to tell the truth so now you have to do a dare." "Ugh fine," you groaned, rolling your eyes before taking another sip of the cocktail. "Hey! I didn't even give you the dare yet." "I know, but knowing you I'll probably need it to complete it," he laughed at your remark before telling you to close your eyes which you did obediently.

You felt a set of soft, plush lips meet yours, gently pulling them in. A simple kiss soon joined by a little tongue action. Then you remembered...Jake.

"What the fuck is this!?" you heard a voice that ripped your lips away from Heeseung. "Jake? What are you doing here?" "I was coming to find you! I was supposed to take you home today remember?!"

You had completely forgotten that Jake planned to take you home today.

"Jake. I-" "I don't wanna hear it!" he spat before storming out. "Who was that?" Heeseung asked. "That was my boyfriend," you sighed. "Fuck. I'm sorry. I didn't know." "That's my fault. I didn't tell you," you said grabbing your bag. "Where are you going now?" "To apologize to him," you said, leaving Heeseung behind.

You ran out to catch Jake as he walked to his car. "Jake! Wait!" you called, but he didn't turn around. "Jake!!" you shouted again.

*Honk*

"Y/N!!" Jake yelled out. The loud blaring of a car horn caught your attention as you were nearly hit by an oncoming car. Jake ran to you, grabbing you by the arm as he dragged you to his car. "Get in," he commanded."Jake I--" "No. I don't want to hear a single word about what happened back there. Not until we get home." "Your apartment?" "No...yours," he said sternly, gripping the cold leather of the steering wheel in his hands as he pulled off.

When you finally made it home, Jake waited for you to unlock the door to your room. He sat down at the metal barstool in your small apartment. "I didn't mean for it to go that far, Jake. I swear," you said as Jake dropped his head into his hands. You listened as he let out a deep sigh. "I'd do anything to make you happy. Anything! And this is what I get? You sneaking around with your manager behind my back," he spat. "How would you feel if you caught me at some bar making out with my co-worker?" "I-I would feel betrayed." "And that's exactly how I'm feeling right now. Absolutely, fucking betrayed." "Jake, I'll never do it again. I promise. It was a stupid mistake and I regret it. You're the sweetest guy I've ever known and I don't want to lose you." "Well maybe you'll think of that next time," Jake said as he stood up. "I'm going home. I need some time away from you to cool down." "Oh...okay." "I love you, Y/N." "I love you too, Jake," you said as you watched the teary-eyed boy leave your apartment.

You fell to the ground and cried after you locked the door. You felt like a piece of you had just been torn away. And that piece was Jake. The boy who walked into your life when you weren't even looking for love. And you know that if Jake hadn't come in there, things would've been a whole lot worse.

Ever since that day, Jake's been a little different. You two were able to move past the Heeseung ordeal, in fact, your 6 month anniversary was just around the corner. For the most part, Jake was the most loveable, reliable, and supportive boy you'd ever known, but on the other hand, he was a whole different person.

Even his best friends Sunghoon and Jay had started to convince you to break up with him, but you couldn't. You felt responsible for creating the two-faced sweetheart.

3 months ago…

You were on your way to Jake’s apartment to go and spend some time with him. However, you were running a little late because you had stopped to pick up some food for the two of you.

“Where the hell were you?” Jake said as he opened the door. Your smile faded as you saw the frustrated look on Jake’s face. “Sorry I’m late, there was just a lot of traffic today. But I went to pick up lunch for you…your favorite.” “Oh yeah? And did you go anywhere else while you were out?” “Well i-“ you were cut off by Jake grabbing a handful of your hair.

“You what?” “Ow! Jake! Please let me go,” you whined nearly dropping the bag of food. “Not until you tell me where else you went. And don’t even think about lying. It’ll only make things worse.” “I went to the library,” you whimpered. “To go meet up with someone huh?” “Yes, but—AHH!!” Jake pulled your hair tighter and brought your face to his. “I had to give Evie my notes from class,” you winced with tears welling in your eyes. Jake loosened his grip, relaxing your body. “She was sick last week and missed the lecture…so she was studying…at the library,” you continued to explain.

Jake caught the tear with his thumb as it ran down your cheek. “I’m sorry. I hate to see you cry,” he pouted, taking the bag from your hands and placing it on the counter. “I love you so much. And the thought of losing you scares the hell out of me,” Jake said as he pulled you in for a hug. “How about we go and enjoy our lunch together,” Jake kissed you on the forehead before walking you to the table.

Jay and Sunghoon came into the apartment not long after you and Jake started eating. "Hey guys," Jay casually waved as he walked to his room. You and Jake both responded by waving back. Sunghoon stayed behind in the kitchen to grab a drink while he played around on his phone. Within a few minutes, Jay was already heading back outside.

Both you and Jake assumed Sunghoon left with Jay so when a notification popped up on your phone from a guy named "Nicholas" Jake went ballistic. You barely had enough time to register the situation before you were smacked in the mouth with your phone. A thin stream of blood peered through the broken skin on your lips.

"What the fuck is this huh?" Jake shouted. "Are you cheating on me?" He continued. "Wh-what are you talking about?" you asked still dazed from the first whack. Jake reached to wrap his hands around your throat right as Sunghoon got up to see what was going on.

"Jake! Are you crazy? What the fuck are you doing?" Sunghoon ran over to pull you away from him. "You need to fucking chill out. I-" Sunghoon stopped mid-sentence when he noticed the blood on your lip. "This is none of your business Sunghoon," Jake growled. "I'm not just gonna stand here and let you beat on your girlfriend like your dad beat your mom." Before Jake could respond Sunghoon had already taken you outside.

"Are you okay?" He asked looking at your lip. "Yea...I'm fine," you responded wiping the access with the back of your hand. "How long has this been going on?" "This is the first time he ever reacted this way," you replied looking down at the ground.

"Do you at least know why?" "He's afraid of me cheating on him like his ex." "This is so fucking stupid. He does realize that you're nothing like his ex right?" "Yea, but it's kinda my fault.." you sighed. "How?" "Well, he caught me in a bar one time making out with my manager. And since then, he doesn't fully trust me."

"That still doesn't give him a reason to hit you," Sunghoon shook his head. "I don't care about some one-time incident. Jake isn't a child, he needs to deal with his emotions like an adult. He could seriously hurt you. How do you think that would've gone if I wasn't in there? Huh?"

You rubbed your neck, remembering the way Jake tightly gripped your throat, "I...He would've choked me..." "And probably much worse," Sunghoon added. "I know you love him and I'm sure he loves you, but you can't stick around if he's gonna treat you like this--" "But it was just one time, Sunghoon. He'll never do it again," you didn't hesitate to defend Jake. You truly did believe this would be the last time.

"I hope not. If it happens again, just know I'll be dragging his ass out of the house instead of you," Sunghoon said before wrapping an arm around your shoulder. "Don't worry. I'm just walking you to my car."

You followed Sunghoon to his car, climbing into the passenger side.

*Click*

Sunghoon locked the doors. "I just have one question for you, do you want to go back in there or would you rather I take you home?" Sunghoon's question danced around in your mind. You were afraid of what Jake might do to you if he was still angry, but you also didn't want to leave him.

"I want to go back in there with Jake," you answered. "Well, that's your choice, but first we're going to get something to eat," Sunghoon sighed before pulling out his phone. "What are you doing?" "First, I'm texting Jay to meet up with us. Second, I'm telling your crazy ass boyfriend where I'm taking you so he doesn't do anything stupid."

>>Present Day:

As badly as you wanted to believe that was the first and last time Jake would ever hurt you, you knew random outbursts were inevitable. But at least he hadn't done any physical harm to your body...right? You've got into some pretty heated arguments where Jake has broken things around you. Another incident happened when the two of you were arguing about him wanting you to quit your job and move in with him.

Though you wanted to move in with him, you didn't want to quit your job. Sure the customers were annoying sometimes, but you loved that place. You'd been working there for over a year now and it almost felt like a second home. But Jake wasn't trying to hear that. He raised his hand and you closed your eyes tightly, bracing for impact. Instead, the sound of glass shattering caused you to jump.

Jake had thrown a glass bottle to the ground and walked away.

Jay came home just as Jake walked away. He rushed over to help you clean up the mess. "What happened?" Jay asked. "Nothing...It slipped out of my hands," you lied. And thus began a trend of you lying to cover for Jake.

Soon after, you moved in with Jake, while secretly keeping your job. Whenever he'd drive you, you told him to drop you off at a store that was a good little walk away from your real job. Yes, you felt bad for lying, but Jake was already controlling so many aspects of your life. You at least wanted this for yourself.

Nevertheless, you were excited about your date with Jake. He had planned a little weekend vacation at a resort not too far from where you lived. Lucky for you, Jake had calmed down a lot over the last two months so you weren't afraid to be alone with him.

Only one day stood between you and your little rendezvous and the both of you were getting very excited to spend some alone time together. As usual, Jake dropped you off at your fake job before you walked away to your real job. "Good morning, Y/N. What's got you all excited?" Heeseung asked upon seeing the smile on your face. "Me and Jake are going on a date this weekend," you beamed. "Sounds fun," he smiled back. "Well let's hurry up and finish your shift, so you can go home and get ready," he giggled. You immediately pulled your apron over your head and started taking orders.

Jake wanted to surprise you with flowers and chocolate when you finished your shift. So he ran over to a florist and picked up the biggest bouquet available. "What's the special occasion?" the lady asked as she rang him up. "It's for my girlfriend. We're going out this weekend for our anniversary and I want it to be special," he smiled. "Aww, that's so sweet. I wish I had a boyfriend like you," she giggled before handing Jake the bouquet. "Thank you," he smiled. "Wait...give this to her. Girls love plushies," she said, handing him a fluffy bear wearing a blue and green bow. "Oh my gosh. Thank you so much. She'll love this. How much is it?" "Don't worry about it," she waved her hand. "It's on the house. Enjoy your date."

Jake just had one more stop to make before coming over to pick you up. A box of chocolates.

He drove to your fake job with the biggest grin on his face, thinking about how you'd react to his surprise. When he finally arrived, he walked in and waited for you to come out. You supposedly worked as a server at this fancy restaurant. So when Jake didn't see you come out even once, he went to find the manager.

"Excuse me. Where's Y/N?" "Who's Y/N?" "She's one of your servers. Here's a picture of her," Jake said pulling out his phone to show the manager a picture of you. "I'm very sorry young man, but I've never seen that girl in my life. And her name is nowhere to be found on the roster. I believe you may have the wrong establishment," the elderly man said adjusting his glasses. "Maybe you're right," Jake chuckled. "Sorry for bothering you. Thank you for all of your help," Jake flashed a fake smile before walking off to a corner to call you.

You didn't answer the first call because you were in the middle of taking an order, but Jake didn't know. So he tried again. One of the servers saw the distressed look on his face. "Hey, who'd you say you were looking for again?" the waiter asked. Jake pulled up your picture and told him your name. "She's my girlfriend and I'm just really worried about her right now," Jake said rubbing his forehead. "Ohhh, I know her. Well, I know her face. She works not too far from here. At the Starbucks down the street. She's a cashier so she'll be in the front. Actually, I saw her there this morning. She's probably still there," the waiter said before walking off. "Ahh, thanks, man. Here's 50 for your time," Jake said handing the waiter a $50 bill. "Woah! I mean, you're welcome," he said holding up the bill to see if it was real.

Jake drove down the street to see you taking orders at the register before turning around to signal for someone to take your place.

*Ring Ring*

Jake's phone rang. He picked it up to see you calling. "Hello?" he answered. "Is everything okay?" you asked. "Yea, sorry. I butt-dialed and tried to call you back to let you know," Jake chuckled. "Oh okay. Well, I have to get back to work. My shift is almost over." "Alright, I'll be over in a bit to pick you up." "Okay, love you." "Love you too," he said before ending the call.

Jake pulled into a parking spot and waited for you to get off of work. He watched as you walked down the street and stood in front of the building to your fake job.

After waiting a few minutes, Jake drove around the block to pick you up. You climbed into the car to see Jake smiling with a bouquet of flowers, a box of chocolates, and a cute plush teddy. "Aww, Jake. What's all this?" "I wanted to surprise you at work," he said before pulling off. "Thank you so much, Jake. This is beautiful," you smiled before placing a kiss on his cheek. You went on to tell him about your day at work as he drove you back to his apartment.

You were completely unaware that Jake found out you had been lying to him for the past few months about where you worked and he was very upset. This weekend of romance may have just turned into a trap for you. You were going out of town to a secluded area alone with Jake. There will be no Jay or Sunghoon to protect you from the monster Jake could be.

And the worst part was that you didn't even know you were walking to your own doom...

❀ Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to check out other works on my masterlist!

❀ 𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝:

@chlorinecake @hoyeonheeseung @nikisdubblchococake @sussyjake @furious-eagle @cherrriesss @abbyizzy @weyukinluv @addictedtohobi @thatonenoona @wavykook @givemeyourtmihyun @jaeljn @hoonmywk @valennshit @19-yunalyn @hoonbby @frostedblankets @hoonsyo @no-mannerism @perfectxserendipity @chubbibish @ihrtlix @bunniesforsoobin @thereadersparadise @thatbooknerdfr @aiden2001 @belongstoheeseung @jakeybabe @donut-crazs @rizzhee @nikimeows @woonieees @uarmyxtae @rebecca-johnson-28 @they2luv1naia @isa-2007 @silcry @riverscafe @pearlwhitesoul @nikohiroshi @thatbooknerdfr @wonniewonwon @sughoonieeee @babyy-bambii @adrika04 @sehunsharpasseyebrows @nikisblkgf @wtfyangjungwon @fr-3-akn-4-stymf @rikiloversworld @shawyle @sunoosrightbuttcheek @uarmyxtae

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huramuna · 3 months

Text

downpour - oneshot.

modern aegon ii targaryen x nanny reader minors dni, you will be smited.

this is for @targaryen-dynasty sleepover challenge 🤭 i got the babysitter au + the prompt 'why so shy?' i had so much fun with this, modern aegon is a menace and also a sopping wet cat.

word count: 4.5k

content: smutty smut smut (specifics under cut), aegon being a little shit (we love it), saltburn spoilers (lol), allusions to drug / alcohol abuse and rehabilitation, mullet aegon, jaehaera and jaehaerys are hel's kids but they have an unnamed / unrelated father, gratuitous use of song lyrics, probably a touch of power imbalance because of her job

murder on the dance floor - sophie ellis-bexter

warnings: oral (m receiving), face slapping w/ cock, degradation, dirty talk (this man never shuts up), face fucking / deepthroat, cum on face

“Jaehaerys! Jaehaera! Please don’t run in the house with muddy boots!” you called fervently, trying to collapse the umbrella with one hand, two teddy bears slung in the other.

“We won’t!” they both called in unison, followed by the unmistakable sound of muddy galoshes squeaking over the marble floor. You suppressed the urge to groan as you entered the exquisite home through the french doors that led to the backyard.

“Boots off, little ones!” you called again, kicking off your own shoes in a haste to catch the gremlins before they tracked grime all over madam Alicent’s home. You had been working at the Targaryen estate for the better part of a year as a live-in nanny for Lady Alicent’s two grandchildren– twins, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. It was a wonderful job for the most part, as the twins were a delight and you had grown to have a strong friendship with their mother, Helaena. She was a bit dreamy-eyed and wistful, but was a wonderful mother nonetheless, even if she did have her melancholic days.

The estate was huge and ancient, passed down from generations through Helaena’s father’s side, which was apparently a near royal bloodline from days long foregone. Viserys Targaryen, the father in question, was hardly ever home. He managed the family business (whatever it may be, you didn’t find it in you to ask– all you knew is that they were dirty rich) with his other daughter, Rhaenyra, from his first marriage. He had four children with Alicent, Helaena being the only one of the brood to still live at home.

You’d met two of the others as well; Aemond, a lawyer in the family business who was, in short, all business and no play. He never regarded you, really, besides a quick glance or stiff nod. He had, however, slipped you a eight-thousand dollar bonus at Christmas time with a simple card that read;

Thank you for taking care of the twins and my sister. And keeping my mother sane.

- A.T

The other sibling, Daeron, was the youngest of the bunch, visited usually during holidays, as he constantly was studying abroad. ‘Sowing his wild oats’, as Helaena had put it. He was cordial to you and very much had a boyish charm, and Helaena loved to joke that he had a crush on you. When he had come home for New Year’s, he brought you a souvenir from Iceland, an authentic lopapeysa sweater, made from wool and sewn with a beautiful geometric design.

“Awh, Daeron wants you to stay warm, lovey,” Helaena teased.

“I-It’s just– her hands are always so cold, a-and the wool is supposed to help keep warm! The inner layer is insulating.” Daeron had stammered, the tips of his ears growing red.

“Uncle Daeron has a brush!” Jaehaera squeaked, her words whistling through her tooth gap, she’d lost her first baby tooth just the week before.

“A crush, he’s got a crush!” Jaehaerys corrected softly.

Alicent thought the whole thing very amusing.

That left one child you hadn’t met. You didn’t know much about him aside from small bits of conversation you’d picked up on between the rest of the family. Aegon. The eldest of all of them, and apparently the troublemaker of the bunch. You knew what he looked like from the portraits– blonde hair like the rest but with severely more bags under his eyes. Upon entering the home, one would see the chronological order of family portraits.

It starts with Viserys, Alicent, and baby Aegon; the latter of whom is happy and chubby and bubbly.

Then, it moves to the three of them, plus baby Helaena, with her wide blue-eyed stare at the camera. Aegon is still happy.

The next one adds the addition of baby Aemond– there is a glint of sentience in Aegon’s eyes, but he hasn’t experienced the crushing blows of reality yet.

You weren’t exactly sure, but as he got older, he became more morose– more bags, less light in his eyes. Then came the ear piercings, the tattoos, the head shaving, the bloodshot in the whites of his eyes. The portraits ended with this past year’s Christmas photo. Aegon was noticeably missing from it. You’d heard during one of Alicent’s phone conversations with her father that Aegon was in rehabilitation for a myriad of issues, and looking at his photos, you could only guess which one was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

A particularly harsh clap of thunder broke you from your thoughts, coming back to yourself. You scooped up Jaehaera before she stepped on the carpet with the muddy shoes. “C’mon, let's get cleaned up for lunch, yeah? What do we want for lunch today, lovies?”

“Grilled cheese n’ tomato soup.”

“No! I want mac n’ cheese.”

The squabbling ensued, the twins arguing back and forth for a few moments before you butt in. “Alright, how about– whoever gets the floor the cleanest and puts their galoshes by the washroom the fastest gets to pick?”

The twins squealed in delight as they absconded from your sight, effectively going to do your bidding for you. You would, however, just end up making both meals anyway. As you moved to the kitchen, the sound of the doorbell rang. You bustled to the door, not sure who to expect– there weren’t many roving visitors in and out of the estate unless Alicent was explicitly expecting company– which you had triple checked the calendar when you woke up that morning.

You opened the door, expecting to see a debutante or someone of Alicent’s social circle– ‘twas not the case. You recognized him immediately, seeing his mother’s face in his own. Aegon. He was muddy, dirt flecks splashed on his face as he stood under the stoop trying to get away from the pouring rain. His face was a bit healthier than you’d seen it, the dark circles were still there, but not as prominent. It was like a gloomy day, rather than a full blown storm under his eyes. He had the wisps of a beard starting on his jawline, and his hair was cut into a makeshift mullet, longer in the back.

“Who the fuck are you?” he asked, hands in his pockets.

“Erm– the… the nanny. For the children.” you stammered, his tone catching you off guard. You glanced behind him, seeing a beat up dirt bike caked in mud– that was probably how he got here.

“A nanny? You’re a bit young for that, yeah? My nanny’s were all wrinkly old prunes.”

“Oh– uhm, come in, Mr. Targaryen.”

He perked a brow at the name, but didn’t say anything. He beat the bottom of his boots on the doormat, which didn’t accomplish much. He immediately began to track mud on the floor. “Mum home? Hel?”

“Lady Alicent is… upstairs,” you offered, following behind him at a quick pace. “Helaena is taking a nap– the storm–”

“Yeah, I know ‘bout Hel’s issues with storms. Don’t need to tell me twice. So, you got a name, or are you just the nanny?”

You gave him your name as you glanced at the clock– it was almost time for the children’s lunch and you hadn’t even put it on the stove yet!

“Got any food around here? Fuckin’ famished.” he added then as he nosed around the kitchen, hands still in his pockets.

“I’m just about to make lunch for the twins– uhm, I can make you something too if you’d like.” you walked past him, quickly putting some pots on the stove and starting the gas. You and the twins were on a strict schedule, and if they didn’t get their lunch on time, they would turn into hellions.

“Sure. Whatever the kids are having. I’m not picky.” Aegon waved his hand behind his head as he disappeared from the kitchen and clomped up the stairs, likely to speak with his mother. You fretted for Alicent’s mental state once that was done, and you felt even guiltier for not giving her a heads up.

As the tomato soup heated on the stove and the water began to boil for the macaroni, you unlocked your phone– you were curious about Aegon and why he’d come back, exactly. Well, of course, besides the fact that he lived here (or did, at some point) he was still supposed to be in rehab for another three months. You went to instagram, rolling your eyes as you saw that his profile was on ‘suggested for you to follow!’

You clicked to his most recent photo, the first that he’d posted in over a year.

“Jesus christ,” you muttered under your breath as you put down your phone on the counter to stir the soup.

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” Aegon teased behind you. When the fuck had he gotten there? “Soup n’ mac and cheese?”

“Tomato soup and grilled cheese for Jaehaera, mac and cheese for Jaehaerys.” you responded plainly, trying not to notice that he was practically breathing down your neck. You glanced over as he leaned on the counter, where you had left your phone. Unlocked. Like an idiot. On his instagram page.

“Curious about me, are you? I’m surprised you haven’t heard enough about me from my mum.”

“I don’t like to pry into Lady Alicent’s affairs–”

“I wouldn’t consider myself an affair, more like a one time fling, eh?” Aegon snorted, grabbing your phone. It took every fiber of your being to not break all sense of decorum you held to snatch it back from him. “You’re not following me– let’s change that,” he mused, beginning to scroll through your page now. “Lots of pictures of the kids here– ooh, a trip to the seaside. There’s no pictures of you on here, eh? Only of… my family n’ other stupid shit, like the ocean.”

“I’m a live-in nanny, sir,” you grit out, stirring the soup with more force than necessary. You consider yourself a patient person, and have become accustomed to how people in the Targaryen’s circle made their jabs. High society and filthy rich people had their own language of insults– ones that you wouldn’t realize they were insulting you until much, much later. It was like a game with a slow burning poison. But Aegon, apparently, was different. There was nothing meticulous about his jabs, no filter, no slow burning poison. It was all punch and sting, like a bite from a rabid dog rather than a viper. “I usually attend family trips.”

“Live-in, huh?” he drawled, his arm leaning over the counter in such a laissez-faire manner that you could feel yourself scowling. “Don’t get much action then, I take it? Let’s see if there’s any nudie judies on here, then…”

“N-no!” you broke then, all sense of manners flying out of your body as you struggled to take back your phone.

“Why so shy? Got something on here you don’t want me to see?” he staved you off, a hand planted firmly on your shoulder as he scrolled through your photos, making all sorts of gaudy faces. You didn’t really have anything overtly scandalous, maybe a few lingerie shots for an old boyfriend.

“Aegon, leave her alone. Give her back her phone.” Alicent’s voice cut through the room like a knife, stunning both of you.

He sheepishly gave you back your phone as she crooked a finger to her son, ushering him to a room on the farther side of the house.

As you fed the twins their lunch, you overheard some yelling, arguing and heated voices. You only saw Aegon later when going to your room to get ready for bed. His eyes were teary and red.

—

The next few weeks went by with some normalcy— everything was as usual, except it was like you had a third child to care for; Aegon. Except this child didn’t listen at all and had terrible habits. He was constantly flirting with you, but also would weave in jabs at the same time— you couldn’t quite tell if he even liked you or not. Not that it mattered, anyway.

You were sneaking in your own lunch one afternoon, eating scraps from the twin’s lunch while they napped— basically just the crust you cut off of the grilled cheese and the small bit of soup left in the pot.

“You eat like a mouse.” Aegon said, always managing to be there to annoy you.

“Too much food makes me tired— I won’t be able to keep up with them if I’m sluggish.”

“Could always drink a red bull or a monster, instead.” he offered, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it in the kitchen.

“You shouldn’t do that inside. It’s bad for the children’s lungs. Lady Alicent says—,”

“Well, it’s my fuckin’ house too, innit? I can smoke in here if I well and bloody like,” he growled, exhaling a puff of smoke into your face. “My mum must be paying you extra to be my nanny too, then? The way you’re up my ass all the time.” he flicked ash in your direction.

You crossed your arms tightly over your chest. He was goading you, baiting you into a reaction. He was being insufferable on purpose. You could tell by his pearly white smile he currently had plastered to his face, like a smug little—

“Never had a nanny so pretty, though,” he continued. “If I asked real nice, would you feed me soup? Dress me up? Give me a bath if I’m real dirty?” he got closer and you could smell him— the smell of marlboro reds and cheap aftershave that had become synonymous with Aegon blew out your senses until it was all consuming.

Your mouth parted as you tried to think of some witty response, some barb, some jab— but nothing came out. You just huffed and turned away from him in an attempt to hide your red cheeks. Why were you blushing?

You could practically hear the cockiness ooze from him, his mouth perked into a cheeky smile as he stole one of the crusts. He knew he’d gotten to you.

—

It’d now been over a month since Aegon moved back home and the building tension between you two hadn’t let up a bit— you constantly felt trapped and elated all at once. When you saw him, your chest fluttered slightly in anxiety and anticipation. What was wrong with you?

It was a dark, gloomy day. The seasonal storms were in full swing, pelting the estate in rain and hail. Alicent, Helaena, and the twins were out on an escapade to Alicent’s father’s house— you guessed Aegon hadn’t gone. But, it was a huge house, so surely you could enjoy some of your time off without seeing him?

A rumble of thunder shook the house, rattling its constitution— and then the lights flickered. Flickered… flickered… then… out. It was dark, then, even with your window shades open. You turned on your phone flashlight and tiptoed out of your room, going to see if perhaps you could smack the backup generator into working.

You hadn’t expected to work today, nor see anyone, as Alicent had given you the day off. So, you were subsequently dressed in your pajamas— a hilariously oversized Bass Pro Shop shirt (a gift from your dad in America) and cat-patterned sleeping shorts. Your toes cracked and creeped on the floorboards with each movement, and to your chagrin, as you passed Aegon’s door, it opened. He was wearing a shirt that said “MILF: Man I love Fishing”, with just his boxer briefs on, which didn’t seem to bother him at all.

“Oh. You’re still here.”

“Yes?”

“Sorry, thought you were gone with the rest. Sad, I can’t do the Saltburn thing now.”

“The… what?”

“The Saltburn thing? Dance around the empty mansion to myself with my cock out.”

“What.” you responded with the most deadpan tone.

“Dance… with my cock out?” he repeated.

“No– I know what you said– but why?”

“Why not?”

You rolled your eyes, shifting the conversation. “So, the power is out– uhm, do you know where the backup generator is?”

“In the wine cellar. Nifty, huh?”

“... the… wine cellar. I can’t say I’ve been down there yet.”

“I know it like the back of my hand, c’mon then. I’m sure I can kick the old gen in the nads and get it to work.” Aegon said with surprising confidence, turning on his phone’s flashlight and half blinding you.

You followed behind him, to which he hummed ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ while doing a half-assed dance, apparently from some movie that was definitely something you hadn’t watched– you don’t remember the last time you watched a movie that wasn’t geared towards the twins.

“So basically… he had the whole mansion to himself, and then he dances through it with his cock out, hanging massive brain, y’know? It's murder on the dance floor, you better not kill the groove,” he imitates the dance, sprawling his arms out in the doorway to the wine cellar and shaking his bottom a bit, which was, admittedly, nicely fit in his snug boxer briefs. You felt a strange heat flush to your cheeks.

“And this… is a… what? Comedy?”

“Well, categorically no– I’m not a film aficionado. I guess it could be considered a psychological thriller, but I thought it was pretty funny,” he stopped before continuing into the cellar. “It gets pretty hairy in here, so stick close, okay? Ever seen The Conjuring?”

“... yes, actually. Horror movies are kind of my favorite.”

“Ah, a girl after my own heart,” he mused. “Well, think of the basement in that movie, but instead of a bunch of old useless shit, it’s a bunch of old wine.”

“And… instead of ghosts?”

“Oh, there’s definitely ghosts.”

“... what.”

“Yeah, estate is haunted. You haven’t noticed?”

“Shut up.” you murmured. You were a huge fan of horror movies while simultaneously being a huge chicken shit when it came to scary things– you were prone to hiding your face before the big jumpscare or running up the stairs from the kitchen when it was dark, just in case something was chasing you– and your feet had to be covered by the blanket at all times when sleeping.

“Aww, you scared?” Aegon teased, turning to you.

“I mean– ghosts are scary. Of course!” you offered sheepishly, pulling up the collar of your oversized shirt to cover your nose and mouth in an almost hiding manner– a nervous habit of yours.

“I’ll keep you safe, love, no worries about that.”

“... that’s what they always say, right? Then they totally leave behind their girlfriends to get stabbed by the killer or… eaten by the monster.”

“You my girlfriend now?” he asked, that stupidly annoying and somehow charming smug energy exuding off of him in waves.

“Shut up.” you grumbled as you both approached the generator. It was covered in dust and hadn’t been touched or tended to in a long time, it looked like. “Do… you know what you’re doing?” you asked Aegon tentatively, watching as he inspected it.

“Me? Oh, fuck no. I never know what I’m doing, honestly,” he shrugged, giving the metal box a kick and haphazardly pressing some buttons. “No dice, sweetheart. ‘Spose you’ll have to dance in the dark with me for a bit longer, huh? But, if there's a ghost, you'll be... ghost food, or whatever.”

You pinched your brow in annoyance. “I don’t understand you.”

“What’s there to understand? I’m a pretty open book, you know.”

“No– you aren’t. You flirt with me but also… insult me? I don’t get it.”

“It’s called teasing– picking? Picking on? Getting the goat?”

“What? So, like a little boy pulling a girl’s pigtails on the playground because he likes her? That makes absolutely no sense, Aegon.”

“If you spend your time trying to find a reason for it, you’ll go insane. Why not just enjoy the point of it? I like you.” he breathed, suddenly very close to you. He set his phone aside on top of the generator, flashlight up. It illuminated the walls of wine and cast shadows of cobwebs and dust all around the both of you.

“What?”

“Are you deaf– I. Like. You.” he repeated, his knees bumping yours as you were practically glued together, your back now against the ancient stone wall.

Your lips parted as you inhaled a breath– okay, you weren’t exactly expecting him to say that, or even like you at all– you figured the flirting was all hot air, a defense mechanism, something for fun, not… real. Your heart was pounding in your chest and you became all too aware of the fact that you hadn’t been touched since you got this job, maybe even before that– and your previous boyfriends never made you feel… flustered like this. You couldn’t form words as he, uncharacteristically cautiously, put his hand on your cheek. He was so close, so close– his body heat mingled with your inherent coldness and warmed you instantly. You weren’t sure what came over you, but you leaned forward, slotting your lips against his. What the actual fuck were you doing– you were kissing your boss’ son, her notoriously bad mannered, foul mouthed, sloven slob of a son, and you liked it. Your hand instantly went to the back of his head, fingers grazing through his choppy curls– even giving them an experimental tug, which he seemed to enjoy, by the indication of something poking you in your thigh.

His lips moved against yours like a dance, and you couldn’t get the fucking song he was singing earlier out of your head– It’s murder on the dancefloor– you grasped at his hip, it was fleshy and pleasant, the tips of your finger slipping under the elastic of his briefs– But you better not kill the groove– his hands were exploring, too, under your stupid Bass Pro shop shirt, groping at your breasts with reckless abandon – If you think you're getting away, I will prove you wrong – the heat rose in your body until you couldn’t take it any longer, the two of you were practically eating each other alive in this dank, dusty cellar and it was undoubtedly the hottest experience of your life – I'll take you all the way, boy, just come along – your lips parted for a moment, still connected by a string of saliva, bridging the gap between the two of you – Hear me when I say, hey –

“On your knees for me, love?” he asked, his voice suddenly so deep and husky, his thumb skimming over your collarbone.

You fell to your knees for him so quickly– how pathetic. He wriggled down his briefs, already leaking at the fat tip of his cock. He wasn’t overly long, but he was girthy, like a beer can. Your eyes widened, which he must’ve noticed, as his face was plastered with a shit-eating grin. Your mind immediately went to an image of a so-called ‘American delicacy’ (your father’s words, not yours) called Beer can chicken, in which a can of beer is shoved in the ass end of a chicken and grilled. It is apparently as delicious as it is horrifying. Your throat bobbed as you surveyed it, a tentative hand around the base. He shook his head, prying your hand from him.

“Nope, mouth only. Open up, be a good girl.” Aegon muttered, looking down at you, the light of his phone flashlight illuminating him from below– he looked like a God. Or maybe a devil.

Your mouth parted as his hand guided you forward. You wholly expected him to nestle in your mouth, but he surprised you with a slap to your face with his cock. It didn’t hurt, just caused you to yelp in surprise. He smeared some of the pre-come across your cheek, then slapped the head of his length on your waiting tongue. It was somewhat degrading, what he was doing– but it lit a goddamn fire under your ass, the neurons of depravity in your body, wherever they may lie, were alight with each nasty little gesture Aegon gave you, before he finally slid home. It stretched out your mouth, prodding at the back of your throat.

“What would everyone else think, hm? If they knew you were such a fuckin’ slut.” he growled, gathering your hair in his fist like it owed him money, beginning to fuck himself into your mouth, careful to pay attention to your body language to make sure he wasn’t working you over too much. He made sure to be extra careful with his toys, rather than break them.

Tears welled, spilling down your face as you let him use you, degrade you– and yet, he also praised you.

“–such a good girl for me–”

“–you can take a little more, there you go–”

“–prettiest throat I’ve ever fucked–”

You felt like you were on fire, set ablaze by arousal you’d never experienced before– was this what they sang songs about? Dirty, borderline pornographic songs but the point still stood.

You had to chalk it up to the barometric pressure of the storm, right? Aegon wasn’t your type— your type was… well-adjusted, non-addicts, non-bad boy, non-troublemakers. Aegon was the antithesis of what you were into.

And yet— you were into him. You were into him in a pathetic, pitiful way. It made you cringe to think about but you couldn’t resist his puppy dog eyes, nor could you forget the way he was whimpering— fucking whimpering! You squeezed your thighs together slightly at the sound of it, at the blurry-eyed, teary sight of him looking down at you on your knees, eyes half lidded.

He pulled out with a particularly throaty grunt, painting your face in his unnaturally warm seed, somehow careful enough not to get it in your eyes– small mercies. Your lungs inflated with oxygen once more as you caught your breath, trying to gather yourself. You felt the swathe of cloth over your face as Aegon cleaned you up with his ‘MILF: Man I Love Fishing’ shirt, which he had apparently taken off.

“You good?”

You nodded slowly as he helped you to your feet, brushing off your knees with the clean part of his shirt.

“Um– so,” he still held onto you, as if he was afraid you’d run away. “Do you want to watch a movie with me later, when the power is back on? Like, actually watch it– I won’t fuck your face, I promise.”

“... are you asking me on a date?”

“Umm… yeah. I think.”

“Maybe we could watch Saltburn?” you offered with a shrug.

–

“Your mum texted me,” you whispered. “The bridge is temporarily washed out from the storm, they won’t be back ‘til tomorrow.”

“Do you know what that means?” Aegon said, suddenly giddy. You both had just finished watching Saltburn, and you finally understood what the ‘Saltburn thing’ was.

“You know your mum has like ten security cameras set up around the house, right?”

“Okay… and?”

“I’m not dancing naked in the hallway, Aegon.”

“How about just in my room? Please?”

You gave a sigh, beginning to take your clothes off.

“Siri, play ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ by Sophie Ellis-Bextor.”

‘Okay. Now playing ‘Murder on the Dancefloor’ by Sophie Ellis-Bextor, as featured in Saltburn.’

It's murder on the dancefloor!

But you better not kill the groove, hey-hey, hey-hey!

It's murder on the dancefloor.

But you better not steal the moves.

DJ, gonna burn this goddamn house right down.

#aemondtarqaryenssleepover #aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen fanfic #aegon ii targaryen fanfiction #aegon ii targaryen smut #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii #hotd #house of the dragon #my writing #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii x you #aegon ii fic #downpour #modern aegon ii #modern aegon ii x reader

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mjolnirswriststrap · 3 months

Text

Trying To Derail My One Track Mind

Bucky Barnes x F!Reader Part 1 Masterlist

Word Count: 3,225

Summary: Part 2/2 Life was simple, till you met your boss.

Warnings: 18+, smut, cheating on a significant other, oral f and m receiving, bondage, p in v.

You hadn’t slept that good in ages, that’s all you can think as you rise from your side of the bed. Stretching your arms above your head, then reaching for your phone, you must’ve woken up before your alarm, you do that all the time.

When you check the time your heart jumps from your chest. It’s 10:30, the guest would be ready for their hangover bloody mary’s any second. You know you turned your alarm on before you went to sleep. You turn around to see Bucky still sleeping. You roll your eyes, rich people.

You try to leave without raising him from sleep, but you’re not so lucky. He rolls towards you and it’s only now you see that he had no shirt on. Weird since it was freezing in the room, you could see snow building up on the window sills. Your eyes linger on him for a moment too long, “Like what you see?” He bares his teeth to you in a wide smile.

You avert your eyes, a blush covering your whole face. “I’m so sorry, excuse me.”. You grab your phone from the nightstand and try to leave. He grabs your hand, “It’s okay, you don’t have to go.” His eyes bore into yours.

You were starting to understand what you thought before, his eyes make girls act like fools. With bated breath you pull your hand away, “I don’t think my fiancé would appreciate this, I have to go.”. You didn’t stand up to leave. You found your body ignoring your brain. You couldn’t look away from him, and he knew it.

Bucky sits up in bed, letting the blanket fall down to expose his naked upper half. Again, your body is doing things you can’t stop. Your eyes follow the toned curves of his chest down to the valleys created by his hipbones. “I don’t think your fiancé would appreciate a lot of things. Good thing I’m not inclined to care.” Something about the way he said that broke the trance his body has on you.

“I gotta get to work.” You say, putting yourself on that trusty autopilot that gets you through most days at work. You finally take your turn to leave without waiting for a response. It felt good, too good, like you could hold your head a little higher for getting by with it. The guests ate a quick breakfast before all departing, you looked out of the kitchen window as you scrubbed oats from the antique ceramic.

It snowed a lot more than forecasted. The fields behind the house were almost unrecognizable in a blanket of snow. You lean closer to the cold glass, looking towards your car, it was completely buried. You promised that you’d be home early tonight for new years dinner at your in laws house. If the snow didn’t let up soon, you’d never get home.

On days with no guests you do most of your management work. Taking inventory, ordering deliveries, making a new schedule for your cooks. It takes the longest time out of anything you do at the manor. It’s 6 when you get off the phone with the trucking company that delivers the food, they won’t be able to make it till after the weekend, when the snow clears up.

You finally leave the break room, since there’s no windows you couldn’t tell how dark it was getting. You go to the back door to check and see if your car was gonna make it out of the driveway, but the door was blocked by snow, it wouldn’t budge.

You let out a huff and it causes a cloud to appear infront of you. It was freezing in this old house, if you weren’t in a room with a fireplace you were out of luck. You search through every room till you find one burning. You close the library door behind you, not wanting to let the heat out. You see Bucky sitting at the desk, reading over files for something.

“Mind if I join you?” You wouldn’t have asked, but you were still operating on autopilot. You knew he didn’t mind one bit that you were in his presence. You curl up on the couch beside the fireplace, back facing the rest of the room. “It’s not looking good out there.” He says, you could hear the amusement in his tone.

“Yeah, I don’t know if I’ll even make it out of here when my shift ends.” You don’t look at him, but can tell he’s smiling when he says “Oh no.”. You roll your eyes because you know he can’t see you. You take notice when he joins you infront of the fire.

“Another night at the manor, I’m gonna have to start charging you.” He says, kicking his feet up beside you. You hope he’s joking. “There was a strange man in my bed last night, I’d like a full refund.” You counter.

“States in the fine print, if you like it, refunds are void.” You knew he was flirting with you, unashamedly, but you didn’t want him to stop. Maybe it was the way the flames danced on his features or him always deciding to sit right beside you, but your guard was down, and you found your body doing the frozen thing again, heart beating a million miles a minute.

“Who said I enjoyed it?” You say, hoping to knock him down a peg. He shrugs his shoulders and looks to you, “You said all you needed to say this morning.”. He says it in a matter of fact tone. You know he’s talking about the way you so obviously checked him out 2 feet away.

“I’m sorry again, I don’t know what I was thinking, you’re my boss and I’m engaged, it was highly inappropriate.” You say, keeping your self control. Guilt helped you, your fiancés face clouding your mind.

“Don’t apologize, doll. I tend to have that effect on people.” You laugh out loud, you couldn’t help yourself. You can’t tell if he’s being serious or not, based on the shit eating grin, he was joking.

“I just don’t want to give off the wrong idea.” You say, looking down at your hands. “And what’s that?” You can’t even look at him. This cat and mouse game was getting out of control.

You’re both just sitting beside each other, harmlessly flirting one second. The next second could be an entirely different story if you don’t tread lightly, “That I like you.” You look to him to see he’s smiling at you “What?” You say.

Bucky stands from the little couch, walking over to the hot coals. He blows on them to reignite the flames. “I didn’t peg you for a liar.”. The fires completely out, his technique failing. The tiny amount of warmth leaked from the cracks in the window seal, leaving you frozen mentally and physically.

“I’m not.” You say, standing up to leave. You couldn’t argue with him and you knew it. The reason being either because he’s your boss, or you don’t know you’d lose. “Where are you going?” He asks, following you to the kitchen. You decide to ignore him for a moment while you bundle up in many layers. Once you pull on your gloves you’re addressing him again. “I have a dinner to make it to, with my fiancés parents. It was uh nice to meet you I guess, till next time.” You nod your head and turn your back to him, fishing your keys from your bag.

You let out a scream when your face hits the glass on the door, the frost feeling like needles on your skin. “That’s cute, too bad you won’t make it.” He breathes in your ear. “Get off Bucky, I meant it.” You say, wiggling in his grasp. He had his body pressed against you, caging you to the door.

He reaches up and brushes your hair back, exposing the crook of your neck. “So now I’m Bucky? I’m afraid that ship has sailed sweet girl.” He chuckles, and now you realize how serious the situation was becoming. It hits you that he really does not care that you’ve promised yourself to someone else.

“Admit that you want me too, then I’ll let you go.”. Your throat goes dry, you know if he’s gone to these lengths then that’s not all it’s gonna take. “Please just let me go, I’ll pretend like this never happened.” You don’t know if you mean it. The way his body molded to yours would be seared into your brain.

You know you shouldn’t like the way he tightly gripped your hands behind your back. Or the way that the pain in your frost bitten cheek made your body heat up. You just had to get through the niceties of going down a path you couldn’t turn back on. Cheating on a partner is terrible, you know that. It’s why your brain won’t stop pleading to stop, but your body knows what it wants.

He drops your hands, holding them between you. You could easily slip away now, but you don’t even pull your arms free, you stay there with your breath held. “That’s not what I asked, now was it?” He pulls your face towards him, causing your neck to crane in an inhuman way. You look into his eyes and it’s not the same person. He looked between yours with expectation. You managed to croak out “I admit it.”. He steps back, releasing you from his hold.

“See that wasn’t so hard.” You turn your body around to face him, he’s still standing in your bubble. “So I can leave now?” You say, a little part of you hoping he has something else up his sleeve. What he pulls just isn’t what you expected.

“Oh doll, you’re never leaving.” You drop whatever role you’ve been playing the last two days. The thought of being trapped in this house waking you up from whatever spell Bucky had put you under. “Excuse me?” Your voice comes out in a high pitched huff. He takes back his spot pressing you against the door, but this time you’re looking him in the eye. “Like I said, you’re just what I need, the perfect person to run this place. It’s yours now, why would I let you leave?” His hand goes for your face, you feel his thumb caressing your lips; outlining them with the tip of his finger.

“Bucky, I’ll admit to the flirting, I’ll admit that I want you too, but it’s nothing more than that. At the end of the day I still have to go home to my fiancé.” You gave it one last shot before you completely give up trying. “I don’t think you’re getting it.” His eyes are black now, like an apex predator, he reaches up and grabs you by the chin. “What I want, I get.” Your body finally betrays your mind and you nod your head. Keeping your mouth shut while doing it.

He’s taken control over the situation, and you couldn’t fight anymore, putty in his hands. “Good girl, now call your ex boyfriend up, tell him you’ve accepted a big promotion, end things with him.” You don’t know what you’re gonna say, your fiancé knew you too well. He’d know somethings up. “He won’t believe it. He’ll come here, start asking questions and become a real problem for you.” You don’t know why you fed him with information. You weren’t even scared, you’d just accepted your fate.

“Then what are you proposing?” You turn your head and look at the snow still coming down hard. “Let the car fall over a hill, snow will cover foot steps and tire tracks. No one would see the car till everything melted, think i got lost and died somewhere in the woods.” You don’t know where that came from, honestly, faking your own death had never crossed your mind before, but somehow you were a genius at it.

Bucky seemed to like the idea because he leans forward, abruptly pressing his lips to yours. Your body takes over the autopilot seat, shutting your brain off completely. Your lips moved with his in an intoxicating way, you could quite literally feel yourself getting lightheaded from the lack of oxygen.

He pulls away. “What made you change your mind?” You know he was gonna ask eventually. “I gave up fighting it, fighting you.” You reach your hands out and lay them on his chest. “I’ve been trying my best to be a good girl these last 24 hours.”. You slide your fingers down to his waistband.

“I think I need some practice, to show myself,” you unbuckle his belt, “just how much,” you drop to your knees, pulling his slacks down with you. “I like being bad.”. You finish your theatrics with putting your hands behind your back, keeping your chin down but your eyes up.

You watched as his cock grew hard in his boxers. Bucky finishes your job and pushes them down, letting them fall to the floor. All your eyes could focus on was how big he was. You knew you’d be settling if you ran back to your fiancé now.

You don’t see him reach out and grasp your pony tail, wrapping it around his hand like a rein. He guides himself to your closed mouth, rubbing the tip across your bottom lip “I think you’re being a very good girl.” With that little praise you opened your mouth slightly, sticking out your tongue to wrap around the tip, coaxing his leaking cock into your mouth.

You liked having no control, letting your mouth be used by him. It electrified you, giving up was the best thing you could’ve done. “You like teasing me? Hmm?” He pulls your head back so you would meet his eye. The thought of being punished by Mr. Barnes was enough to make you nod your head, and wrap your lips completely around his tip, sucking lightly.

You feel precum drip onto your tongue, and you take the chance to stick it out and show him. You slid your tongue down to the base of him, smearing cum down his shaft. You look up with puppy dog eyes. “Want me to clean that up for you Mr. Barnes?” You bat your lashes.

You feel the hand in your hair tighten, and the vein in his forehead get bigger. “You’re gonna pay for that.” You bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from smiling. You didn’t want him to know just how much you anticipated his idea of punishment.

You’d brought the ideas up to your fiancé about role playing. You tried to teach him that sometimes pain could be pleasure but he never understood. So you let it go, but you held onto the fantasies you had about being spanked, denied climax after being brought to the brink over and over, being used like a lifeless doll whose only purpose is pleasure.

He derails your train of thought by shoving himself to the back of your throat. Your hands instinctively push his hips back to brace yourself. “Tsk, you need to be tied down don’t you?” He steps out of his pants pooled at his ankles.

He lifts you up, using your hair as a leash, leading you through the house, up to the master. The door was already open, a red glow flooding the hall. When you’re finally dragged through the door you see the fireplace blazing, candles surround the bed. For a moment you wonder why he had prepared all of this if you were supposed to leave.

“I was never gonna let you go.” He leads you to the bed, you crawl to the middle of the bed, waiting for further instruction. He walks around to the right side of the room, pulling open the top dresser drawer. He retrieves rope, coming back to stand beside the bed. “Just because you never saw me doesn’t mean it was the same for me.”.

He crawls up beside you, looping the rope into the headboard, tying your hands up against it. “I knew you were perfect on your first day at the manor.” He gets on top of you, kneeling so he can unbutton your white uniform top. “You did even see me, holding onto every word Bruce said, you were completely oblivious to the man following you around the mansion with cameras.” You didn’t even know the house had cameras. To be honest it shouldn’t since the things that go down here. You wonder what he’s watched you do, let your employees eat whatever they want, cut corners even though he says not to, take extra long breaks in less busy hours.

“Should I be weirded out? Cause that kinda turns me on.” You joke, poking fun at the fact that it was actually really creepy he watches you on the cameras. “You’re laughing now.” He scoots down the bed, stripping you of the rest of your clothes.

“How would you like your punishment?” He easily flips your body over, baring your ass to him. “I could whip you till you’re crying, begging me to stop.” He slaps your cheek, leaving a welt in the shape of his hand. He turns you back around and crawls up your body, pressing his cock to your lips again. “I could make you gag while I shove my dick deeper and deeper down your throat, and you’ll be begging me to breathe.” He pushes himself past the barrier your lips tried to form. Letting his tip make its way to the tightness of your throat. You can’t help but to swallow, causing your muscles to tighten. “Keep doing that and I’ll choose for you.” He pulls himself away from you, letting you catch your breath.

Bucky finds himself with his face between your legs. He couldn’t help himself but to dive right in and taste you. You were glistening from your own arousal. You bucked your hips into him, helping yourself get closer the high you’re both chasing. Right when your legs begin to shake he stops “or you could beg me to cum all night.”.

He comes up to face you, “All I know is you’ll be begging.”. Your blood shot eyes search his, how could you pick, all of them were exactly what you wanted. “None of those choices involve you inside me.”. You leave Bucky wordless as you wrap your untied legs around his waist, rubbing yourself against his hard cock.

He presses himself into you, the mess he already created allowed him to easily slip inside. The deeper he pushed you felt the air get sucked from your chest, your cheeks growing red hot. “No one’s ever..” you throw your head back, letting your jaw slack open. No one’s ever bottomed you out like this, stretched your walls while pounding on your cervix.

“Shhh, it’s okay.” He remained unmoving until you adjusted to the size of him. The longer he stayed still, the more apparent the stinging and rips felt inside of you. “Please?” You just want him to move, even if it hurts. Bucky breaks out in a big smile “See baby? I told you you’d be begging me at some point tonight.”.

#avengers fanfiction #avengers #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu #bucky x reader #fanfiction #bucky barnes x y/n #fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky x female reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky x reader smut

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unrefinedmusings · 9 months

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no outbreak!joel miller x f!reader headcanons

warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, nasty situations, age gaps, dirty talk, strip clubs, threesome, mentions of infidelity, sexually forward behavior?, not proofread very well

a/n: blaming this one on ovulation and listening to hot stuff by donna summer on repeat. only one of the scenarios is told in second perspective, but feel free to think of all of them as you.

currently obsessing over a joel miller slut era

the outbreak never happened and sarah is off at college. being a father has been his greatest joy. he would not trade a second of his time with sarah for a more rebellious youth. but when joel is almost 45 and living in an empty house, he gets lonely. and bored. that's when he starts to notice. the fleeting glances. the overt stares. he never realized how much attention he got. so he lets his dick do the thinking for a while. who could blame him? people were throwing themselves at his feet. who could blame them?

some standout moments:

while shopping for a birthday present for sarah, joel walks into a boutique at the mall. it's a small store and a slow day. the girl at the counter perks up at the sight of him. she's not subtle, nearly salivating when he walks over to ask for help. she touches him way more than what is appropriate while giving an opinion on earrings. all he does is lick his lips in her direction before she's locking the front door and turning the shop sign to closed. he drags her into a changing room despite her suggestion of the back office. joel doesn't mind the size of the stall when it means he can watch her face while he pounds her from behind. when he finishes, he kneels to make her finish one more time on his tongue. "make sure to watch yourself, honey. look so pretty when you cum."

joel miller is neither stupid nor cruel enough to get involved in someone else's marriage...but that doesn't mean he can't have some fun. since entering the business, he's found that every bored housewife loves to flirt with the contractor. now he just lets himself flirt back. watch their cheeks flush when he winks across the room. see them turn their weddings rings around, as if not seeing a diamond will make him forget their husbands hired him. it gives him an ego boost knowing they'll think of him in their marital beds that night.

hank, one of the younger guys on his crew, is engaged and invites joel to his bachelor party. tommy insists he go, at the least so as to not come off as an unfriendly boss. the strip club is loud, and his beer is overpriced and watered down. none of that matters when he sees the little devil come out on stage. she's wearing a lacy red corset that's pried open, letting her tits bounce free. he palms his cock under the table when she spreads her legs wide for the audience, and chuckles when her horns don't fall off even when she's upside down. joel had always been impressed by the fancy spins and twirls, but what he loved most was watching a woman make love to the pole. she's gyrating against it like a cat in heat, even turning around and letting the smooth metal slide between her asscheeks. she saunters over after her show, slides into his lap and offers him a dance in a private room. the horns fall off while she's bouncing on his cock, chasing her orgasm as his fingers work her clit.

the one he should probably feel the worst about it is the least his fault. those girls were so eager. they zeroed in on him before he realized. joel wanted to get a beer after work, the two seniors from Texas A&M wanted to sow their wild oats. joel knew they were a little too young for him, but they insisted since neither had been with an older man or had a threesome before. both girls sidled up on either side of him at the bar, each slipping a hand onto his thighs. he can't feel that bad when he remembers what having two pretty young things kissing on his cock was like. what it was like lying in his bed, one on his cock and one sitting on his face. hard to feel bad about that.

his favorite occasion is the night he meets you. it's late. he's had an awful day. two guys on his crew called in sick and he had no time to eat. he stops at an old school drive in for a couple burgers. in his side mirror he sees you, sees your uniform: cropped white tee, short black skirt, and, oh fuck him, rollerskates. your tits jiggle as you come to a stop by the driver's side window of his truck. you catch him staring. he can't muster the energy to be inconspicuous. joel's gaze lifts to meet yours and sees the flirtatious smile you've got on. leaning against the door, you ask to take his order. "I'll get two burgers, some fries, and two shakes if you've got time, sweetheart. Only one if you got somewhere else to be." You take your break in his back seat sipping on a vanilla shake with his head between your legs. After you cum, he lifts your shirt up and jacks off on your tits. He makes sure to grab the panties hooked on your skates and tuck them into his jeans. When you ask for them back, he spanks your ass. "I'm coming back for another pair. When's your next shift?"

💕💕💕💕💕

Thanks for reading!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller headcanon #joel miller drabble #the last of us #the last of us drabble #joel miller x you #tlou smut

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florbexter · 2 years

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Hello! For the oatcake prompts if that's OK? I have a personal headcanon that Oat can't drive and cycles everywhere so I would love a fic where M offers to help teach him to drive (bonus if it's because he finds Bun has offered first!) can make it as sweet or as comedy as you like!

coolness factor: zero | [AO3]

The logical part of M’s brain knew that Dr Bunn was in a relationship with Tan and most likely quite happy with him. For reasons unknown and incomprehensible. The logical part of his brain knew that Dr Bunn was too professional and strict to ever consider a relationship with a subordinate let alone someone who was his immediate junior.

The emotional part of his brain however was a feral beast that looked at all the information he had and scoffed.

M had parked under several trees across the side entrance of the hospital. The cup of coffee he held was more decoration than a beverage he intended to drink. He needed something to occupy his hands.

The night staff was already trickling out of the building and not more than two minutes later Dr Oat biked around the corner. M felt some of his tension leave his body.

Oat and his bike had become a familiar sight since he had come to Viangpha Mork. The young doctor rode it everywhere, to work, to the market, and sometimes even to go out. M hadn’t thought too much about his choice of transportation despite secretly checking that Oat’s bicycle was roadworthy. He had once retightened the brakes, but with Oat’s approval and they had had a rather amusing almost fight about wearing a helmet. Which Oat refused to, much to M’s displeasure.

“’Morning.”

“Oh,” Oat looked up from where he was kneeling to secure his bike. The smile he threw him made the anxiety and the embarrassment M felt a bit better. “Good morning, Inspector.” Oat looked down at his watch and then frowned. “It’s a bit early, huh?”

M sighed internally. Having a crush really grated on his coolness factor.

“I just finished my night shift.” An hour ago to be exact, but no one needed to know that.

“I hope it wasn’t stressful,” Oat said and stood up.

And then M had no idea how to proceed. He thought he had a plan, which wasn’t a good one because he now realized that it had to appear weird that he knew that Oat couldn’t drive. Maybe not weird. But it was weird that he wanted to ask him about it in the early morning hours when the fog was still hanging in the streets and the sun hadn’t gone up yet.

Why couldn’t he have waited until later?

“Did something happen? I thought we decided to meet this evening?”

They weren’t dating per se. M wanted to, badly, but they were still stuck in the little dance of spending every minute together when they weren’t at work, brushing their shoulders together whenever they walked next to each other, having freaking inside jokes, but not actually asking each other out for an official date. M was scared shitless because even though he knew that the way Oat looked at him and smiled at him meant something, he was still afraid that he misinterpreted the signals.

Oat’s smile made his heart skip a beat and that scared him a little bit.

“No… it’s just.” He tried to find a reason why he would ask out of nowhere, but it had been a long nightshift if he was honest, and his brain was filled with jealous thoughts only. He wanted to scratch his nose but still held the coffee cup in his hand and bumped it accidentally against his face. Great.

“I heard that you don’t have your driver's licence, and before I forget about it, I wanted to tell you that we have a learning parkour behind the school. If you want to learn. It’s your decision if you...”

He babbled. M squinted against the sky that got brighter by the second. His ears burned.

“It’s not really a learning parkour if I’m being honest, they put some warning triangles on the ground and one of the teachers got inspired and made a figure which apparently should symbolise a pedestrian, but the vote is still out on that...”

Could someone shoot him now, please?

When he found the courage to look at Oat, he wasn’t in the least surprised that Oat smiled widely at him. Mischief and delight bright in his eyes. M knew that his ears were on fire right now.

“You heard that Dr Bunn offered to teach me how to drive!”

M opened his mouth to deny it, but it was true. Then he frowned because Oat didn’t sound mad, he sounded like he had just opened a present he really, really liked.

“I can’t believe I am also part of the weird territorial thing you two have going on.”

M scoffed. “That’s not what this is about.”

“Really?”

Maybe. Maybe it was part of it. Maybe M wanted to take a crayon and mark everything with an X he considered his. Mark it so Bunn wouldn’t touch it. Bunn made him uncharacteristically possessive and when he had heard from a colleague that Oat didn’t have a driver’s license and that Dr Bunn had offered to teach him… he had wanted to do something to Oat that was the equivalent of licking his sandwich so that Bunn wouldn’t dare to take a bite out of it.

“If Tan had offered to teach me, you would have reacted similarly?”

M tried to keep his stern Inspector face to say “Yes”, but couldn’t because the thought that Tan would keep his attention on another person that wasn’t Bunn for longer than ten seconds was laughable.

“But Tan didn’t offer,” he said instead and then winced. Oat made a gotcha sound.

“Where did you even have the information that Bunn offered to teach me?”

“Viangpha Mork is small, words go around quickly,” he said and this time he knew that his Inspector-face gave nothing away. Oat didn’t need to know how invested everyone was in their maybe-relationship. They even ran to him when Oat bought two mangoes instead of one.

Oat made a tststs sound at him as if he was a cat and Oat had caught him scratching up the couch.

“You two need to work on this rivalry thing because I will not be dragged further into it. Also, no. Dr Bunn isn’t going to teach me how to drive. Because I don’t want to learn how to drive.”

“Oh.”

“I have my bike and that is enough,” he patted the saddle affectionally.

M didn’t know why he felt disappointed.

“And,” Oat continued, “if I ever feel the need to learn I will ask you. Until then I have you to drive me around, right?”

He patted M’s cheek affectionately like he had done to his bike before he said goodbye and turned and walked away.

M might have stood frozen on the spot for longer than he wanted to admit. At least until someone shouted a “Good Morning Inspector” at him.

He touched his cheek then his ears and yes, they were burning up alright.

end.

#manner of death #oatcake #oat x m #florbexter writes #au canon divergence #ao3 link #fluff

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bunnakit · 3 months

Note

Please tell me your thoughts - canon and/or headcanon - on M/Oat!

im really sorry for all the typos and nonsense thats gonna be in this

UGH I LOVE THEM SO MUCH.

i imagine oat is just oblivious for the first half of m trying to court him and is just like "yeah bunn he's so friendly" and bunn is just sitting there like "oh my god you're the dumbest man ive ever met how are you a doctor"

i think once they're together oat has a lot of anxiety about m getting hurt again considering he was literally the one to bring him back from death twice basically.

i think m is stupid protective and may even ask oat to keep their relationship out of the public eye for a while as he tries to get rid of the last of the corruption in the precinct because he knows someone would try to use oat against him.

maybe sometimes m gets a little needy, not sexually, but sometimes he just wants to sit on the couch and hold oat and not let him get up. they need to make dinner? too bad, they can do that later. oat needs to shower? he smells fine to m. he doesn't know how to express that he needs the touch and reassurance so he just resorts to being stubborn and eventually oat understand, pretends to put up a fight, and then relaxes for a few hours until m settles.

maybe someday ill write a fic for them, i can't keep reading my favs on ao3 over and over again

#bunn asks #anon my beloved #manner of death #m x oat #moat #inspector m x oat

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bifangirl09er · 10 months

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Title:Workplace Flirting

Fandom: Manner of Death

Relationships: Inspector M/Dr. Oat, Bun & Dr. Oat, Bun & M, Tan & M, Tan & Oat, Tan & Bun & That & Sorn

Warnings: A little bit of insecure Dr. Oat, but otherwise PURE FLUFF

Major Tags: Alternative Universe - Canon Divergence, Though also more like Canon Fix it, Future Fic, Flirting, Kissing, Inspector M/Dr. Oat In Love, Inspector M/Dr. Oat are whipped for each other

Summary: Even though they live together, it still can be hard to see each other sometimes. With M's work schedule, M working with Tan and Bun to get the corruption out of the higher ups, Oat's school and work schedule...they barely have anytime. Which doesn't help Oat's worries and insecurity...luckily M is there to help.

“Bun, when is the Inspector going to come for this report?” The other doctor just smirks at me and goes back to eating his lunch. I blush slightly because this is what I get for dating the town inspector. Though, I always feel like he has no right to tease us since he is the same way with Tan. I would like to say that M and me, were one of the reasons why they stayed here and didn’t go to Bangkok. We probably are a small part about why, but not a huge part. I mean there are those two kids who they treat as their pseudo-children/little brothers. Also, they love both of their jobs, Tan wants to help the kids, and Bun can’t help but love this job more than his past one. They both feel like they can do some good here and help with getting the town on track. I just know that family is important to both of them, especially, found family. Especially since they both don’t have a very good birth family to speak of. Despite all that, it’s not fair for him to tease me and M, when he and Tan are just as bad, actually probably worse. Though, as I see Bun smirking at me again I know it’s good, and then saying, “Oh hi, Inspector. I will leave my intern and assistant with you.” After he says that he walks out of the office with his lunch bag. I roll my eyes and decide at that moment that the next time I go to the Mist with Tan, Bun, and M, I will tease Tan and Bun just as hard.

Continue on AO3: LINK

#bl fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 fic #ao3 #inspector m x dr. oat #manner of death #prompt fill #prompt fic

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geekygirl24 · 2 years

Link

Prompt from KatrinkaRowan: If I could request a TanBun and OatM double date that starts off awkward with Oat being the only enthusiastic one, but everything gets better as the night goes on.

#Manner of death #Inspector m x Dr Oat #tanbun #dr oat x inspector m #BunTan

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morningberriesao3 · 8 months

Text

MWMD - Be My Love

Steve Harrington X Virgin!Eddie Munson

Summary: It's NYE, and the cat comes hurtling out of the bag. Eddie and Steve finally do something about their feelings.

Word Count: 6.8K

Chapter: 6 of 6 CHAPTER LIST

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Content Warnings: Explicit m/m sexual content including… Virgin Eddie Munson, Dry Humping, Coming Untouched, Coming in Pants, Minor Crossdressing (ahem, EDDIE WEARS A G-STRING), Oh no they’re both tops?! what will they do!!?!, Top Steve Harrington, Power Bottom Eddie Munson, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Nipple Clamps, Under-Negotiated Kink, Unsafe Sex, Creampie. Underage Drinking and Recreational Drug Use

Tags: Eddie Munson lives, 5 + 1 Things, slow burn, POV Eddie Munson, Gay Eddie Munson, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Slow Burn, Sexual Tension, Caretaking, Massages, Sharing a Bed, House Party, Play Flighting, Bros Being Bros (JK it’s very homoerotic), Halloween, Boys in Makeup, Independence Day, New Years Eve, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending

A/N: thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged over the last few days! this story is so much fun and it was a blast to write. if you were to choose between an angsty rock star eddie fic next, or a fantasy vampire eddie fic next, which would it be? feel free to send in an anonymous ask if you have an opinion or input <3

Many Ways, Many Days, to Say ‘I Love You’

December 31st, 1986

“Holy shit,” Steve shouts beyond the blasting music in the middle of the makeshift dancefloor. Another holiday, another party. Eddie has attended more parties since meeting Steve than he’s ever even seen in his entire life. This one is at some graduated basketball player’s home, and Eddie has been clinging to Steve’s side for the majority of night so he doesn’t end up alone. It seems like a very unsafe place to find himself without his escort. Steve shakes his glass that’s filled with pink liquid in front of Eddie’s face. “This is so good. You should try one of these. It’s so good.”

Eddie sways to the beat of the (terrible) music. He’s tipsy enough that he’d stopped complaining about it half an hour ago, but not drunk enough that it wasn’t on the forefront of his mind. He pretends not to know exactly what song it is (You Make My Dreams Come True by Hall & Oates), even though he knows it word for word. It’s not his fault that the radio station sometimes plays shitty music. Over and over. Until he has to convince himself it is, indeed, shitty.

Eddie eyes the liquid in Steve’s glass. “What even is that?”

Steve squints an eye. “I think it’s strawberry – no, raspberry. And… peach?” He smiles that crooked smile at Eddie. “And a whole lot of liquor.”

The image that Eddie has cloaked himself in over the years tells him that he can’t sip on a fruity cocktail in a public place filled with his peers. But a little voice in his head tells him, You don’t care what other people think about you anyway. And if it’s good enough for the King of Hawkins High… So he looks at Steve and says, “Lead me to the refreshments, your majesty.”

Butterflies erupt in his stomach when Steve bends in half at the waist and holds an outstretched hand towards Eddie. “Right this way, milady.”

Now, here’s the thing.

Maybe being called a lady shouldn’t do something for Eddie. But what does everyone call him? The Freak. And when it comes down to it, there are parts of himself that are rather… freakish. Like the G-string that he pulled from the back of his drawer to wear tonight – a dirty little secret – for his own cheap thrill. Or the nipple clamps he hasn’t had the chance to try out yet.

Or being called a lady by Steve.

So he takes Steve’s hand, because it’s beckoning him to do so, and his stomach churns sideways, and he has to remind himself of his promise – the one he made to himself – that that thing that he and Steve did was a one-time thing. That, despite all reasoning in the entire world, Steve didn’t mean to get himself off with Eddie and didn’t mean to get Eddie off, too.

Does that make any sense at all? Probably not. But what makes even less sense would be the opposite theory. The one where Steve isn’t completely straight.

It’s a theory that Eddie won’t even let himself consider, because it would spark that pesky little flame of hope within him. Better it never gets lit in the first place, instead of lit and extinguished.

“Hey, Stace,” Steve says to the blonde girl in the kitchen, who has a shaker in her hand and a group of other cute ladies crowding her. Steve gives her a devastatingly beautiful smile and she rewards him with a bashful blush and a bat of her ridiculously long eyelashes. The jealousy that Eddie feels at the exchange is concerningly violent. “Can you make a couple more of these for me? They’re amazing.” Steve shakes the glass at her the same way that he did to Eddie a moment ago.

“Of course,” she chirps, biting on her lip in a way that Eddie can only assume is seductively. She lets her tongue poke out from her perfectly plump, pink lips to wet them. Eddie nearly scoffs aloud. “So, Steve. Are you here with anyone?”

Eddie looks down at his decorated hands to see if he’s gone invisible. He certainly feels like he has. But nope, he’s very much there, standing next to Steve.

Steve’s not as much of a prick as everyone else at the party, so he throws his arm around Eddie’s shoulder, unashamed. “Yeah – this is Eddie. I’m here with him.”

Stacy’s eyes trail sideways and look at Eddie for no longer than a couple of seconds. It’s long enough, however, for Eddie to read her distaste. “Oh. No, I know. I mean, are you here with anyone.”

Steve’s brows crumple above his Roman nose. “What? I’m here with Eddie.”

The group of girls twitter soft laughter. Stacy pours the contents of the shaker into two solo cups filled with ice. “You’re such a fool, Steve.”

She says it in a tone that’s probably supposed to be endearing, but Eddie can see how Steve bristles. “Alright. Well, thanks.” He picks up the two glasses, handing one to Eddie and turning his back to Stacy.

He pats Eddie on the back and points his chin towards a clearing in the centre of the room. They start to make their way away from the kitchen, but Stacy calls after him, “Only a few minutes until midnight! Come find me!”

Steve turns to face her once more – so does Eddie – and he doesn’t miss how she throws him a wink.

“Oh, um. Thank you. Maybe,” Steve says, grabbing Eddie’s wrist and hauling them away from her advances before she can say anything else. They find a quiet space in the living room, against the wall. Eddie leans his back against it while Steve takes a sip of his drink. “I hate it when they don’t take a hint.”

For a second, Eddie wonders if he doesn’t take the hint sometimes. Social cues and all that. That would, in fact, explain why lately he’s been living in a constant state of confusion.

But all he does is nod, and say, “Same.”

They stand there for a minute, sipping on their drinks, eyeballing the crowd as they laugh and dance. Then Steve cocks his head and takes a step towards Eddie. Suddenly, he’s very aware that there’s a solid wall behind him. That Steve is closer than he should be. That he’s pushing into his space when usually that’s just an Eddie thing.

Maybe he’s rubbing off on Steve.

He’d like to rub off on Steve. Again. If you catch his drift.

“So,” Steve says, looking down on Eddie, making him feel strangely small, “what’s the story with you and Gareth?”

Eddie furrows his brows, nearly choking on his cocktail. “Excuse me?”

“I never really asked before.” Steve shrugs. “And – I don’t know – you guys seem to hang out a lot.”

“Yeah. Uh. I’ve known him since like, grade three. He’s my best friend.”

Steve’s eyes drop from his for a moment. He chews on his lips. “Oh. Of course – I mean, That’s… great.” Eddie stares as Steve’s expression falls. And he has half a mind to say that he looks… jealous. But the confidence quickly returns to Steve’s gaze. “So, what am I then?”

Eddie’s stomach ties up in knots. “What are you?”

“If Gareth is your best friend. What am I to you?”

He’s aware that all plausible deniability has disintegrated. It probably did a long time ago, but now is when it really hits him. That look sparks in Steve’s eyes – the cheeky one where he’s being flirty and sexy and he knows it. The one that has been unleashed on him a few times by now, but Eddie’s always made excuses as to why.

And he is trying, trying, to find an excuse right now.

He only slightly pays attention when the chatter in the room gets louder. When everybody turns to the television in the living room that’s playing the New York City ball drop.

Steve doesn’t turn to the TV. He still crowds into Eddie. “Because sometimes I think one thing, and then sometimes it seems like the opposite.”

Eddie’s only slightly aware when the whole room raises their glasses in the air, and they yell in unison: Ten!

Instead of answering Steve’s question, he sucks in a breath and holds it.

Nine!

And then he turns it around; he says, “I don’t know, Stevie. What am I to you?”

Eight!

Steve’s lips twitch into that cocky little grin of his, the crooked one that Eddie loves so much. God, he’s so attractive. “Well, I think –”

Seven!

“– it hasn’t been the most traditional way of getting here. But we’re –”

Six!

“– together. Boyfriends.”

Those two words volley around Eddie’s head for what feels like an eternity. Together. Boyfriends. The world is on a standstill. Everything is in slow motion. His heartbeat stops, and so does his intake of air. Everything kind of zeros in on Steve, and him, so close. Heat radiating from the body that’s pressed up into his own.

A million thoughts race through his mind at once: This isn’t real. You didn’t hear right. This is a joke.

And then there’s the other thoughts. The ones that tell him that everything that has happened since March – everything that’s happened in the last nine months – suddenly makes sense. Everything since waking up in that hospital hand-in-hand with Steve. That maybe the flirty moments – the small touches, the kiss that he only thought was a game, the playfight that turned into something more – maybe those things meant what Eddie was always trying to avoid thinking they might mean.

To keep himself from getting hurt.

But maybe all this time, Steve has cared – the same way Eddie has cared – and he’s been trying to tell him. Not in words, but in actions.

And each time, Eddie had shut himself down afterwards. He closed himself off from allowing a discussion, just in case it wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

Here it was. That discussion. But it was everything Eddie never expected. Everything he’s always wanted.

All of this berates Eddie’s thoughts, but he’s only aware that no time has passed at all when the crowd yells: Five!

Even though he feels like he’s cracked the code, there’s still that pesky devil on his shoulder that’s whispering in his ear: there’s no way any of that is the case. So he stares up at Steve – he can feel the whites of his eyes shining as they balloon – and he whispers, “Really?”

Four!

Steve’s little smile turns into a full-on grin. His puppy-dog eyes crinkle in the corners. He takes another step into Eddie’s space, even though there’s not much left. When did he get so goddamn close? “Are you gonna give me a kiss?”

Three!

Eddie scans the room. He forgot that they aren’t alone, even though – tucked away in the darkened corner of this massive house – it feels like they are. Nobody is looking. Nobody is looking and Steve is so fucking close…

Two!

Eddie’s eyes flick down to Steve’s mouth. His lips are shimmering pink. Maybe from the drink…

One!

He nods and breathes, “Fuck yeah.” And then Steve’s lips are on his.

It’s as unbelievable as you might think, having Steve Harrington kiss you. Really kiss you. Not under the façade of a game or a dare, but because he wants to.

Just like the rest of him, his lips are sure. Confident. They slot with Eddie’s first with a gentle brush, and then start moving with conviction. He coaxes Eddie’s mouth to part and suddenly he can feel the scrape of Steve’s teeth against his lower lip. He can feel the heat of Steve’s breath as they breathe the same air. He can feel that Roman nose brushing against his own. Feels Steve’s hand – the one not carrying the drink – press flat against his stomach.

And then Steve’s tongue flicks out to catch the jut of Eddie’s lips – kind of like that time on the Fourth of July – but it’s a question. One that Eddie answers by opening his mouth further. That tongue slips inside, and he can see fireworks behind his eyelids, he can taste Steve’s drink, he can feel the slide of wet against his hard palate.

His self-control snaps.

Eddie pushes back into Steve. His tongue meets his in the middle, rougher, impatient. Their teeth clack together, he can feel drool seeping from the corner of his mouth and he’s not sure if it’s his or Steve’s but it doesn’t matter – he wants it all. His tongue licks over Steve’s mouth and he tastes artificial vanilla. And he realises in that moment that Steve’s lips aren’t shining and pink because of the drink, but because of the lip gloss.

When he has that lightbulb moment, Eddie groans into Steve’s open mouth. It’s mostly drowned out by the cheering of the crowd – oh yeah, the crowd – but still, Steve chuckles and pulls back.

“Do you what to stay longer, or do you –?”

“Fuck, no. Let’s get out of here.”

Maybe he’s a bit overeager, but Eddie grabs Steve’s hand that’s still pressed against his stomach and he yanks him towards the front door. Everybody is still blissfully unaware of their kiss. Everybody but Little Miss Drink Mixer Stacy, who’s staring so hard it looks like her pretty green eyes will pop from her skull. Her mouth is hanging open. She’s frozen in place.

Eddie really should be frightened that somebody in Hawkins witnessed such a disgusting act of intimacy between two men, but instead he feels proud. He blows her a kiss and wiggles his fingers in a wave before he and Steve slip from the door and into his rusty van.

He starts the ignition, and before he can even shift into reverse, Steve is grabbing his hand. He stares at it for a minute. Such a simple thing, holding somebody’s hand. But it still has his heart in his throat. It’s just so real.

“What are you thinking right now?” Steve asks.

Eddie feels the ways his fingers fit so perfectly between his own, and counters with a question of his own. “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

Steve blinks at him from the passenger seat. “What do you mean?”

“Why didn’t you – I don’t know – slap some sense into me? Tell me that you… felt this way. Or wanted this.” He gestures vaguely to his chest, wrapped in a WASP t-shirt.

“I thought you knew,” Steve says simply. He gives a loose shrug of his shoulders. “It’s pretty obvious that the things we do together aren’t really – you know. What just friends do.” His brows furrow. “Well, maybe you do those things with your friends, but I don’t –”

“I don’t either.”

Steve pauses for a minute as he smiles over at Eddie. “You really didn’t know?”

“It was weird.” Eddie looks down at his lap. “But I didn’t want to assume things. I didn’t want to wreck our friendship, because I – well, I really like you.”

Steve finally lets go of Eddie’s hand long enough for him to back from the front of the house they emerged from. He grabs it right back once they’re on the main road back to Forest Hills Trailer Park.

“I thought it was one of two things,” he says. “I thought you either wanted to take things slow. I didn’t want to pressure you into doing anything, because losing your virginity can be a really big deal.” Eddie’s entire face ignites. He tries not to think about how sad that is – twenty and a virgin. When Steve has been rolling in the sheets since he was probably fifteen. How casually Steve just said that, like it isn’t mortifying. He continues, “Or, I thought you weren’t really interested in taking our friendship any further.”

Eddie gawks at Steve. “Dude, I didn’t even know you being into dudes was a possibility. And if you were…” He pulls into the gravel in front of his trailer. It crunches under the tires. He doesn’t finishes his thought.

Not until Steve squeezes his fingers, and asks, “And if I was, what?”

“And if you were into guys, there’d be no way you were into me.”

Steve looks like he can’t even comprehend why Eddie would say such a thing. That he’s not aware of how different they are. That he’s not aware that Eddie is a mere mortal while he’s a god. “I’m into you, man. I’m so into you.”

Eddie stomach erupts once more into a thousand butterflies. Or maybe they’re bats. He can feel his cheeks turn even redder.

“And for the record,” Steve adds, “I really like you, too. I – I really like you. And I wasn’t lying, at the party. I want us to be boyfriends.”

Eddie chews on a little patch of dry skin on the corner of his lip, and desperately tries to kill the bats flapping away in his chest. “Okay. Boyfriends. I, uh. I want that, too.” He’s not great with words, but it gets his point across.

Because Steve is beaming as he leans across the centre console to press his lips to Eddie’s once more. Eddie tastes peach, and vanilla, and cigarette smoke, and chewing gum. And he tastes just Steve as their tongues mingle together.

Steve’s hands start exploring him – squishing the little meat he has on his thigh, teasing under the hem of his shirt, brushing against the few hairs he has trailing from his navel below the waist of his jeans. This time, when his cock starts swelling, he doesn’t try to hide it.

The beautiful cherry on top, is that this time, he’s freshly bathed and somewhat groomed. This time when Steve sees him naked, he won’t be embarrassed.

When Steve sees him naked. What a treacherously delicious thought.

When he moans into Steve’s mouth the same way he did at the party, there are no other noises to swallow it up. So it fills the space of the van, this raunchy sound that tumbles from Eddie without his consent. It sounds so unlike him – desperate and begging. But then Steve makes his own noise, and suddenly Eddie can’t wait any longer. He can’t wait to get himself on Steve, inside Steve, whether it’s his hands or mouth or his perfectly tight ass.

“Fuck,” he groans, “let’s go inside. Now.”

They barely make it through the front door and into his room. Steve is all over him, groping at his nipple ring through the fabric of his shirt, flicking it, twisting it – fuck, fuck. Eddie’s own fingernails are digging painfully hard into Steve’s shoulders, scraping against his neck, pushing under that stupid rugby shirt to rake against his impressive chest.

He crowds into Steve – shoves him against the ledge of his mattress. But before he can get Steve onto his back, he swivels so somehow he’s the one in front of Eddie. He’s the one pushing Eddie onto his back.

He falls to the mattress, Steve towering over him like some powerful warlord.

Eddie’s dick is throbbing, hard as steel in his jeans. He’s probably not contained at all in the – oh, fuck. Oh, FUCK. The G-string. The G-string that he put on before the party. The G-string that he has no intentions – zero – of Steve even knowing he owns, let alone seeing him wear. Why the fuck did he choose tonight to try it out, why did tonight have to be –

Steve bends to pop the button of Eddie’s fly, fingers deftly undoing the zipper.

“Fuck – uh – Steve. I just have to – can I just have a minute? I forgot to do something.” His dick is so tender. He can feel his heart beating between his legs, can feel himself leaking into the tiny cotton gusset of the panties. So small. So tight.

Thankfully, Steve nods. “Don’t take too long.” Before relief can find Eddie, before Steve pulls away from him to let him stand, he dips his fingers under the waistband of his jeans – just a small tease against what is supposed to be his boxers. But they find the string of fabric squeezing against the flesh of his hip instead.

Eddie sees the moment when Steve realises that he’s not feeling the elastic band of Eddie’s normal underwear, but something entirely different. “Uh, Steve…”

“What’s this?” Steve cocks his head to the side as his eyes trail down Eddie’s body, to his gaping jeans. When Eddie looks between his own legs, he nearly chokes at what he sees. The dainty fabric, edged in lace and a tiny, feminine bow, stretching obnoxiously over his cock. It’s holding on for dear life, that little triangle of fabric. It’s barely containing him – it’s not containing him. The waistband isn’t against his skin, it’s being pushed from his body by the swollen head of his cock and through the gap there, the flushed red tip can be seen. Glistening, strained, wet.

“Steve, I didn’t – it’s not…” Eddie doesn’t quite know what to say; he’s wearing women’s underwear. And not just any women’s underwear. The smallest pair that he could possibly get his grubby little hands on. Mortified doesn’t even begin to cover what he’s feeling.

Steve’s eyes are glued between Eddie’s legs. “Is that a thong?”

Just hearing those words leave Steve’s mouth makes Eddie want to die. “Oh my God.” He covers his face with his hands. “I didn’t know we’d be doing this – I didn’t know! I’m sorry. I don’t do this all the time. It’s the first time I’ve – I swear. Jesus Christ.”

Steve’s quiet, but Eddie doesn’t dare look at him. Until he hears, “Show me.”

It’s a command, all but growled at Eddie from the man atop him. When Eddie opens his eyes, he’s met with a rather ravenous looking Steve – a predator appraising its prey. His eyes are black, his jaw is tense. The muscles there feathering as he clenches and unclenches his teeth.

“What –?”

“Show. Me.” Steve hauls Eddie to his feet but doesn’t step far enough away. Their chests are still touching – Steve’s heaving like he’s parched for breath. Eddie is frozen for only a moment, but soon enough his trembling fingers are peeling the shirt from his own back.

The look on Steve’s face doesn’t make him feel ashamed anymore. It makes him feel appreciated. Sexy. It makes him feel like maybe this part of himself that he wants to explore – this part of himself that really does make him a freak – can be done next to the man that he can now call his boyfriend. His partner.

He hooks his thumbs under the waist of his jeans, and he pushes them down.

It’s hard to get them off when Steve is still standing so close to him – so close that their bodies rub together as Eddie moves to take the rest of his clothes off, bar the little black G-string that only lived in the back of his drawer. Until now.

The air from Steve’s lungs puffs against Eddie’s face when he straightens himself out again. And then Steve’s hand lifts against his shoulder, pushes him backwards so he stumbles back onto the mattress. And because he’s feeling brave (how could he not when Steve is looking at him like his last meal?), he lays himself out on the bed. He spreads himself open.

Steve’s eyes rake over every inch of Eddie’s body, from the top of his curly head, over his flushed cheeks, down his pale chest that’s painted with not only silvery scars, but splotches of nervous red. They land between Eddie’s legs, where his knees are lewdly spread to display just how much the little triangle is struggling to hold everything down there. Eddie knows how it gapes around his balls, how heavy they look compared to the scrap of fabric. He knows because he stared at himself in his mirror before they left for that stupid party. And he knows that now, with his cock engorged between his legs, that it’s only gaping more.

Eddie swears he sees Steve’s knees nearly give out. He definitely sees his hands form fists by his sides, knuckles going white with the force of them. Steve doesn’t lift his eyes from Eddie’s crotch as he says, “I am going to fuck you until you cry.”

The room spins as Steve undresses – Eddie barely registers his words. He drinks in Steve’s near naked body, his abs that flutter as he works off his belt and then his Levi’s. The thick outline of his dick tenting his black boxers. But then he thinks, ‘when Steve fucks me?’ as he crawls slowly between Eddie’s legs. So he hooks them around Steve’s middle and uses all his might to flip that muscled body onto it’s back.

Eddie straddles Steve as he says, “I think you meant to say you’ll cry as I fuck you, Harrington.”

He can feel the line of Steve’s cock under his boxers, pressed against his near bare ass. It’s only made more obvious as Steve grabs Eddie’s hips and pulls them harder against himself, lifting his hips to rub against his body. “But your ass looks so good in that tiny little thong.”

“I don’t think you got a great look at my ass yet. How would you know?”

And just as fast as he got Steve onto his back, he’s on his again. Steve looms over him, grabs around his torso, and flips his body like a ragdoll. Eddie’s face presses into the blankets as he lays face-down, his dick throbbing as it rubs under him and against the mattress. Steve’s hands splay against the valley of Eddie’s spine, fingers slipping under the string waist of the G-string, pulling the fabric where it was almost buried between the cheeks of his ass. “I’m getting a pretty good look now. Turns out, I’m right.”

Eddie tries to lift himself up, tries to get himself in a position of power once more. But Steve bores down on him, pressing his chest flush against the panes of Eddie’s back. His hips pitch forward and his cock drags against the cleft of Eddie’s ass. And he hates himself for this, he really does, but he whines at the sensation. He whines, long and loud into the ruffled blankets, a little river of drool seeping from the corner of his lips as he does.

“If you think you’re going to stick your cock in my ass, Harrington, you can think again,” Eddie says. But there’s a part of him, a small part that’s growing, that knows that’s a blatant lie.

He always thought, without a doubt, he’d top the first time he had sex, and he’d top the second, and the third, and the fourth, and so on. He thought he’d always be the one to get someone underneath him, someone crying and begging, someone gagging to get dicked down.

But he feels himself falling into some form of submission. Not that he wants to admit it.

Steve presses into Eddie again and again. He can feel the panties soaking up as much of his precum as it possibly can, but it must be reaching its threshold. There’s so much. His cock is weeping and so is he as he hears Steve grunting with each thrust. “But think about how good it’ll feel. Think about being stuffed full of my cock, Munson.”

Eddie isn’t crying yet, but it sure sounds like he is with the noise that just erupted from him. It’s enough of an answer for Steve.

“Fuck yeah, listen to yourself. You want to take it as much as I want to give it to you.”

Eddie tries to swallow down his sobs, his pants, but really he just sounds pathetic as he says, “In your dreams.”

Steve bends over Eddie’s back, gets his face nice and close to his ear. “You’re damn right in my dreams.”

A finger slips under the band of Eddie’s thong and pressed against his asshole. Eddie moans and arches into it, but he spits, “Fuck you, man,” with the little conviction he has left.

It’s not very much.

He wants Steve, he wants to be coated with him, covered from head to toe, all over his skin, outside, inside. He wants to take Steve’s cock every way that he can.

“Keep these on,” is all Steve says as he moves away from Eddie’s back, snapping the thin side of his panties against his skin.

Eddie does.

But Steve – he strips down to nothing, completely bare naked as he stands near the edge of the mattress. His cock juts proudly from him, and Eddie turns to stare, taking in every goddamn inch of his impressive length. Somehow, that’s going to be inside him, but he can barely compute it.

“Lube?” asks Steve. Eddie points to his end table where he keeps stuff like that. The rare nudie mag, the bottle of lube, the nipple clamps.

The nipple clamps.

Eddie grins something sharp and feral as he tumbles from the bed, reaching the drawer before Steve has the chance. He throws the lube onto the mattress, but he keeps the nipple clamps in his hands, joined together by a thin, silver chain.

Steve eyes the metal in his hands. “What’s that?”

“These, dear, sweet Stevie, are what you’re going to have to agree to if you think you’re fucking me tonight.” Eddie would bend to Steve’s will either way, but he wants to see what he can get away with. Steve sucks his lip between his teeth and clamps down on it. He’s nodding before Eddie even has the chance to tell him what they are. “Good. Get on the bed.”

Eddie regains some of his gumption as Steve clambers to obey his orders, throwing himself on the double mattress that they’ve shared now for months. He leans his back against the headboard, reaching between his legs to stroke at his cock that looks nearly as painful as Eddie’s own.

If Eddie did the same thing, he’d come in a matter of seconds. It’s probably better he gets fucked than do the fucking, because it would last no longer than he could even get himself sheathed in Steve.

He walks on his knees to where Steve is splayed out – as if on a platter. He runs his hands against the fuzz on his thighs, up the rippling abs that are adorned with matching scars to his own (albeit, not as many), through the thatch of chest hair between his pecs. Then he pinches on Steve’s pretty, pink nipples to get them peaked and prepped for his little surprise.

Steve gasps, but presses into Eddie’s fingers. His hand stills from stroking his cock as Eddie swings the simple, circular clamps, attached by a chain, between their chests. “You ready?”

“Fuck yeah,” Steve says, even though Eddie is sure he has no idea what he’s agreeing to.

He opens the clamps wide enough that they won’t hurt too much, but narrow enough to pinch into the peaks on Steve’s chest. Steve moans when the first one clamps onto his nipple, and lets his head fall back onto the headboard for the second one. Eddie trembles with delight as Steve’s cock offers a pearl of precum when he tugs on the chain.

So he swoops to lick it up.

“Oh, fuck,” Steve gasps, eyes fluttering open as Eddie’s tongue swipes against the bulb of his dick. He seals his lips around the head of his cock, and sucks on it like a cherry popsicle in June. Steve’s hips buck forward into the heat of Eddie’s mouth, against the soft skin of his cheek. He twirls his tongue and laps at the slit, and he’s not sure if he’s doing a great job, but Steve’s thighs twitch under his hands and he’s making these sexy little noises, so he figures it can’t be bad.

He savours the musky taste of Steve, salty and bitter. And he learns pretty quickly that sucking Steve’s dick might be his new favourite pastime. The way he shakes and whines and whimpers is almost as delicious as the heavy, hot feeling of the cock in his mouth.

It only takes five minutes before Steve is tugging on Eddie’s hair, easing his lips from his length as he says, “Okay, okay. Don’t make me come yet. Jesus.”

Eddie wipes at the saliva seeping from his mouth with the back of one of his hands. He tugs on the chain connecting Steve’s nipples once more, making him keen into the air. Music.

The next thing Eddie knows, he’s being charged by Steve’s broad shoulders, backwards. He falls flat on his back, his head and hair hanging from the foot of the mattress as Steve grapples at the lube.

He doesn’t say anything as he slicks up his fingers, he only stares down at Eddie with so much want that it looks like he might burst. If it’s anywhere close to what Eddie’s feeling, that might very well happen.

“Ready?” Steve leans forward and tugs Eddie’s panties to the side. He can hear the threads in them pop as they’re forced past their limit of stretch. And as they pull to the side, his cock springs free from what little fabric sheathed it. They both look between his legs, at how red Eddie is. How swollen, how wet. His dick twitches at the attention, and he spreads his knees further apart as his answer to Steve’s question.

It stings when Steve pushes two of his fingers into Eddie. It stings, but more than that, it stretches, it spreads, it squeezes. God, he feels so full, Steve’s fingers are so big. He moans unabashedly at the ceiling, twisting his fingers into his own hair to distract himself.

“Is this okay?” Steve asks, pulling his fingers out only to plunge them back into Eddie deeper than before.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, yeah.” Eddie tries not to let the tear gathering in his eye slip bast the brim. It doesn’t work. It feels… it feels so good. Like its scratching an itch he didn’t know he had. And then Steve’s fingers brush against something inside him – a spot he’s only read about – one he didn’t really know was fact or fiction.

It’s fact. It’s so fucking fact.

His voice breaks as he all but yells into he empty air, Steve’s fingers brushing against that spot over and over and over… and, Jesus, he’s not even touching Eddie’s dick but he’s gonna come. He’s gonna come before Steve has a chance to touch him.

But then Steve stops.

“You sound so fucking hot,” he says, slathering his hand and his dick with more lube. He pushes a third finger into Eddie like he’s making a point, forcing him to cry out once more. This time he doesn’t brush against that spot, Eddie has enough time to recollect himself as he gets stretched over Steve’s fingers.

“Steve?” he says, lifting himself to rest on his forearms. Steve cocks his head sideways, his fingers stilling inside Eddie’s body. “Fuck me. Right now. Fuck me.” And just to assert his dominance, he grabs the back of Steve’s neck and hauls him closer.

Steve growls and blankets himself over Eddie.

His lips crush against Eddie’s. Their kiss is anything but timid or practiced or skilled as they attack each other with their tongues, devouring each other in deeps licks and bruising bites. Everything between them wet and warm.

The blunt end of Steve’s cock lines up against Eddie as they consume each other. And then he’s pushing forward.

Someone – Eddie isn’t sure which of them – moans into the other’s mouth. It’s a shared breath anyway, when one noise is made, the other swallows it down. Give and take.

There’s an unrelenting pressure between them, and Eddie feels it when the head of Steve’s cock pushes past his rim. He’s never felt like he feels in this moment. Claimed, but still equal as he presses his fingers into Steve’s neck with one hand and tugs yet again on the chain attached to his nipples with the other. Steve whimpers as much as Eddie, sliding forward inch by glorious inch. And then he’s seated so deeply inside him that Eddie swears he can see a bulge by his belly button.

“You better start moving,” Eddie says, panting against Steve’s lips, “or I’ll pin you down and do it myself.”

With that, Steve pulls an inch from Eddie’s body and pitches forward again. His cock rubs against that bundle of nerves inside Eddie, and he starts leaking profusely between their stomachs, a jolt buzzing into his core each time Steve’s abdomen brushes against his flushed tip.

Steve hums into Eddie’s mouth as his pace quickens. Eddie could come from the sound alone – their skin slapping together aggressively, only heightened by the ridiculous amounts of lube slicking their bodies. Steve grunting and hissing. His eyes squeezing shut and fluttering back open to bore into Eddie’s. They’re both covered in a sheen of sweat; Steve’s olive skin glistening and sparkling against the warm light of the tabletop lamp.

The coil in Eddie’s stomach tightens and burns bright. He’s whining with each thrust of Steve, building a tension that’s about to snap. And as if Steve knows, he wraps his fingers around Eddie’s cock and starts stroking, quick, dirty.

“Oh, fuck, Steve. Steve.” He can feel his body tensing around Steve’s length, can feel his muscles beginning to contract.

“You gonna come all over my cock?” Steve says, low and sultry. It almost finishes Eddie off.

But somehow he holds off, just for a few more seconds. Enough to say, “Not before you come inside me, baby.” He doesn’t even know if it’s true. But still, he pulls on Steve’s nipple clamps because he has an inkling that it might finish him.

“Fuuucckk, fuck.” Steve’s hips lose their rhythm. He fucks into Eddie sloppily, and then something hot and wet is dripping from inside him as he rockets against his ass.

When Eddie feels Steve’s cum dripping out of himself, getting shoved back in with Steve’s still pistoning hips, the tension snaps. Cum surges from his cock in hot, white ribbons, slicking Steve’s fist, catching in the fabric of the G-string bunched to one side, shooting against Steve’s and his own scars.

He’s sure he says something – maybe a string of curse words, maybe Steve’s name – but his mind whites out before he can commit that detail to memory. But he does know his muscles are tremoring in Steve’s grasp, he does know Steve’s abs twitch against his fingers as he rubs his spend into his skin.

And then they collapse, Steve softening in Eddie’s body with each of their heady breaths.

Time ticks by until Eddie can comprehend. And then – like the time before – he laughs.

“What the fuck?” Steve says, but it has no malice. He lifts his head from Eddie’s neck, where he was pressing delicate kisses, to grin down on him. “Is that something I’ll have to get used to? You laughing after sex?”

Eddie isn’t really sure. So he says, “I guess we’ll have to have more sex to see.”

Finally, Steve pulls out. Eddie can feel liquid drooling from within him, cum and lube. He needs a shower. But he needs this moment with Steve more, so he wraps his arms around those strong shoulders and pulls him into his chest. Steve hums his approval, nestles into Eddie’s side like he belongs there.

He does belong there.

When Eddie goes to the bathroom to shower, Steve joins him like he did all those months ago. This time, however, he steps into the water. He wraps his arms around Eddie and presses the pads of his fingers into his head when he washes his hair so sensually, that Eddie might weep. Steve doesn’t say something smart when Eddie gets hard again; Eddie doesn’t feel embarrassed about it.

They get each other off a second time, with Steve’s hand wrapped flawlessly around them both.

Then when they go to bed, they tangle together in a pile of limbs, without even their boxers. This time, when he wakes up to Steve clung to him, Eddie doesn’t go still or try to keep Steve from waking. He presses into him until his eyes flicker open in the dark of the dead of night.

They get each other off a third time, with Eddie nestled tightly between Steve’s thighs and his fingers circling his cock possessively.

Then, they finally fall asleep.

January 1st, 1987

Eddie wakes up in Steve’s arms.

This time, he doesn’t question what it means, doesn’t question what might happen tomorrow.

A new year.

A new start – with Steve.

’86 really was his year.

THE END :)

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