#&& now i try to compliment a stranger a day !
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“only bought this dress so you could take it off.” — jeon jungkook.
pairing: jungkook x female reader
genre: boyfriend!au, fluff, smut
warnings: pwp, it’s just pure smut i’m sorry, slightly insecure reader but she’s still a bad bitch, pussy eating, rough sex, dom jk, verrry subby reader, jk is aggressive in bed but it’s out of love, implied aftercare, unprotected sex, pet names, size difference, creampies, jk loves reader so much and constantly reassures her
word count: 2.7k
Dating somebody you considered to be out of your league wasn’t as easy as you thought it’d be, and although he was always there to reassure you, you still allowed those thoughts to consume you every so often.
You were more than grateful to have Jungkook, he knows how to comfort you and make you feel like the prettiest girl in the world, so why do you constantly let your insecurities get to you? Like now, you were currently trying on a new dress you’d bought after spending the day shopping for yourself. Your boyfriend’s been at work all day and you wanted to surprise him, yet it seems you’re having trouble doing so.
You let out a frustrated sigh, checking yourself out in the mirror with a visible frown on your face. You were far from ugly, in fact, you always receive compliments from strangers solely based on your appearance or how much of a perfect couple you and Jungkook make. They still had a hard time convincing you that he wasn’t out of your league though, he’s genuinely the hottest man you’ve ever laid your eyes on and you still can’t fathom the fact that you actually bagged him.
Your cheeks began to heat up just from thinking about him until you snapped out of your thoughts and checked the clock on your wall, your boyfriend was about to be home any minute now and you still felt unsatisfied with how you looked, even contemplating taking it off and disregarding the whole idea of surprising him completely.
But you thought about Jungkook, you knew he wouldn’t want that, you knew he’d kiss and worship your body the minute he walks through that door and your insecurities would go flying through the window. You didn’t dwell on it too much to suppress impulsively changing your mind, quickly applying your lip gloss to finish off your makeup look before making your way downstairs, cautious with your steps as you were wearing heels.
You situate yourself on the couch, occasionally fixing your hair or your posture as you wait patiently for him to arrive, and when he eventually does, you couldn’t help but feel a wave of anxiety take over you just by hearing that front door open.
It takes him a second to fully notice what you’re wearing as he’s already rambling about how exhausted he is from work and you’re relatively far away, though as he approaches you closer, he stops in his tracks and curses beneath his breath, loosening his tie slightly.
“Hi,” you mutter out gently, avoiding eye contact with him to resist seeing his reaction. “Hi?” Jungkook questions with a breathless chuckle, sitting beside you and causing the couch to dip from the added weight, licking his lips slowly and leaning closer into you, “Shit, baby, this all for me? How come you’re all dressed up, huh?” He whispers out, you glance at him and you can already tell he’s lusting upon you from his gaze, effortlessly making you feel small.
“I jus’ wanted to surprise you ‘cause you know, you’re always busy with work and stuff… you deserve something from me but I’m not gonna lie, I don’t know if I’m confident enough for this,” you mumble the last part, fumbling with the hem of your dress and unnoticeably pulling it down a little, doing anything to avoid Jungkook’s gaze until he stops you and cups your chin, now forcing you to look at him as he lifts your head up, pulling you into an unexpected kiss until he quickly backs away again.
“Y/N”, Jungkook rasps out, “You’re so fucking beautiful, the most stunning girl I’ve ever met. You don’t even have to do anything and you’ll have me on your knees for you, look…” he finishes before gently grabbing your hand and placing it atop his prominent bulge, you almost drool at the lewdness of his actions and feeling how hard he was underneath you. You caused that. “You got nothing to be insecure about, my girl, you’re a goddess and I’m gonna treat you like one right now. Will you let me?”
You nod vigorously while looking at him with pleading eyes, his words having an embarrassing effect on you as slick uncontrollably drips down your thighs. Jungkook takes it in his own will to lift you up and carry you upstairs to your shared bedroom, impatiently kicking the door open and shut before dropping you on the bed and instantly hovering above you, capturing your lips with his own once more.
Jungkook brushes his knee against your thigh before using it to separate both of them, wedging himself between your legs as he takes control of the kiss and eagerly meshes his lips with yours, practically smothering you with his mouth as you try to keep up by returning each and every rough, messy kiss, whining quietly once you feel him press himself against your clothed heat.
“Fuck,” he groans out as he pulls back, “you’re so fucking cute, you know that?” Jungkook curses, pressing open mouthed kisses against your jaw instead, traveling them further down to your neck and eventually collarbone as he leaves marks across every inch of your empty skin. Your body responds to every touch of his, weakly submitting to him and allowing him to paint you as his own, you couldn’t help but release needy whimpers and that only had Jungkook’s arousal growing.
He sits upright and unexpectedly tears the entire dress off your body, earning a surprised gasp out of you, “Kook!” you exclaimed to which he arched an eyebrow and shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, examining your naked body from above with a smug smirk, “What? ‘s why you bought it, right? For me to rip it off your body and fuck you afterwards?”
“Y-Yeah…” you trail off, gripping the bedsheets with force while watching him observantly as he continues plastering his wet kisses against your skin, only now he was coming dangerously close to your pussy that was still clothed, making you shiver in anticipation. “Want a taste of you first, sweetheart. You look too cute for me to not eat your little pussy tonight,” Jungkook mutters out as he coyly gazes up at you, you instinctively buck your hips closer towards his face but he has other plans, continuing to tease you by kissing along your inner thighs purely to hear those sweet, desperate moans of yours.
Jungkook takes his time with you until he eventually gives in and shoves your flimsy panties aside, you almost wanna cry out of embarrassment and bare your face into the pillows but he immediately shuts you out of your thoughts by diving in and licking a bold stripe across your clit, teasing it with the tip of his tongue as he laps it over the sensitive bud over and over again. Your breathing becomes uneven, pants and moans continuously slipping past your lips, the only words managing to leave them being his name and random curses.
“Kook, you… that feels so good, please, don’t stop,” you desperately whine out, he obliges and his pace never once wavers as his mouth envelops your entire cunt, tongue dipping between your wet folds and licking up any slick that dripped between, occasionally nudging his nose against your clit each time he bucked his head back up. He tests the waters and eagerly dips his tongue into your hole instead, your lips part and you involuntarily reach down to hold a tight grip to his head, curling your fingers through his perfect locks and pushing his head further into your cunt.
You can tell he likes this as he releases a deep groan, leaning into your touch before pulling his tongue back out and using it to continue lapping up any essence you produced, wrapping his lips around your clit and slightly hollowing his cheeks as he sucks harshly, shaking his head while doing so. You weren’t even sure how to react, you could already feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes out of pleasure and your orgasm was bubbling inside you, ready to release at any second.
Jungkook worked his tongue on your pussy perfectly, you were embarrassed by how quickly he had you crying underneath him just from his mouth, you know you’ll never get used to how skilled in bed he was but you weren’t complaining. “Cum on my face, sweetheart,” he briefly pulls back to moan out, diving back in and vigorously sucking on your clit, tongue swirling around the parts he could reach in order to pleasure as much of your pussy as possible.
His words were enough to have you unraveling before him, gripping his hair tightly as you release a particularly louder moan and embarrassingly squirt, juices landing on different parts of his face to which he drew back and cleaned up with his tongue, sighing out blissfully. “Best meal I’ve had in a while,” Jungkook teases with a cocky smirk, his hair all messy and lips swollen. your thighs were shaking and you hadn’t had enough time to come down from your intense orgasm before he was back hovering above you, cupping your cheek and kissing you again. You could taste yourself on his tongue and the thought made you whimper.
“I need you,” you shyly whispered out between kisses, he lifted his head back up to peer down at you, already fumbling with his belt and tearing the loose thing off. “Need me where, sweetheart?” You sigh in frustration at his teasing, trying not to focus too much on him tugging his pants and boxers down and presenting you with the sight of his hard cock in all its glory, instead looking at his face, biting your lip nervously. “Inside… inside me, please,” you say as you spread your legs apart a little further, showing yourself off to him.
You don’t know what it is about him but everything to do with Jungkook makes you feel shy and submissive, especially now with him on top of you, cock noticeably poking your thighs. He rasps out a triumphant chuckle and takes his cock in his hand, positioning the tip against your core before sliding it between your folds, teasingly slapping it against your clit. “Yeah? Need me in that tight pussy, princess?” He coos and slightly bucks his hips back and forth, you could feel yourself begin to tear up again, this time out of frustration and not pleasure. “Yes! Please, please, fuck me, Koo… oh.” You were unable to finish your sentence as he cuts you off and rudely shoves his fat cock into your pussy in one go, earning a loud moan from you and causing you to throw your head back against the pillow beneath you.
Jungkook’s already pounding you at a reckless pace, your hands come up to grab onto his thighs for support, digging your fingernails into his skin which causes him to hiss in pleasure and deliberately fuck into you harder, earning a plethora of continuous whines and desperate whimpers from you. “Feels so good, Kook, keep going… please, don’t stop,” you shakily moan out, shuddering each time he sloppily thrusts into you, your slick effortlessly coating his cock and creating a wetter slide after every stroke, creating a mess below you both.
His loud groans almost mask your lewd noises, echoing throughout the room loudly, the sound of the bed creaking and repetitively hitting the wall only increasing with how much he managed to increase his pace, bringing a hand up to your throat and securely wrapping his fingers around it. He gives it a light squeeze as he maintains his brutality on your cunt, plowing your wet pussy with all the stamina he had, sweat dripping from his forehead profusely as he clenches his jaw and curses beneath his breath, “Never letting you go, Y/N. You hear me? This pussy is mine, all mine, all it knows is my cock and it’ll stay that way forever.”
“Yours,” you submitted to him immediately, your reply coming out slightly faster than intended but you couldn’t help it, he was fucking you amazingly. His cock continuously punched in and out of your walls and his tip managed to reach your cervix on every inwards stroke, you gasped and tried to mutter something out but with his grip on your neck it was almost impossible. He listened to your prayers and removed his hand, resting it beside your head instead while the other hooks around your leg and lifts it up in the air, allowing his cock to enter you further.
“So fuckin’ tight and wet, love your pussy so much,” Jungkook slurs out and throws his head back in pleasure, a loud groan ripping from his throat as his cock twitches inside you, already pulsing in pleasure. You feel every vein and movement inside you and it has you drooling again, loosely dangling both of your legs around his waist, welcoming him in deeper.
Jungkook gazes back down at you with hooded eyes, you stare up at him coyly and try to maintain the eye contact though it’s difficult with how good he’s making you feel, you almost scrunch your eyes in pleasure, your mouth falling into an ‘o’ shape as moans slip past your lips nonstop. Your pussy clenches around him and that has him going wild, driving his cock into you forcefully and stretching you out with how thick he was, you tried to accommodate him, your cunt never fully getting used to his size.
“I-I love you, Kook,” you suddenly mumbled out, his dark expression turned soft for a second as he gradually slowed his pace, thrusts still remaining hard and deep, “I love you more, Y/N,” Jungkook breathes out with a less of a struggle than you, his sentences coming out almost perfect despite how much he was panting. He holds your leg for support and proceeds with his reckless pace from before, balls beginning to slap against your taint in tandem with his thrusts, your bodies colliding wildly. “Gonna cum, shit,” he says through slightly gritted teeth, focusing on nothing but solely you.
Jungkook reaches into the gap between you both and begins rubbing at your clit with two fingers furiously, you convulse and shake beneath him and your moans increase in volume with the added pleasure, his cock penetrating your walls and digits toying with your clit simultaneously. It was all too much for you… “Me too, ‘m cumming…”
“Let’s cum together,” Jungkook suggests between heavy breaths and continues stimulating your clit while rocking his hips into yours, grunting huskily with each time you’d tighten around him, only encouraging him to maintain his rough pace on your cunt. You noticed him shuddering until he eventually came to an abrupt stop, burying himself inside of you and painting your walls white with his cum, a prolonged moan leaving his lips as he does. The mere sight of him has your own orgasm hitting you like a truck, coming undone for the second time below him. You didn’t squirt but you still came just as hard as you did when he ate you out, but now you were completely worn out and too tired for anything else, it seemed like he was, too.
Jungkook collapsed on top of you, giving himself a minute before pulling out of you after his cock softened and he managed to collect himself. He instantly wraps an arm around you and tugs you into his warm embrace, attacking your face in kisses which made you giggle softly. “You mean so much to me, Y/N. You’re my everything and you always will be, you know that, right?” Your boyfriend suddenly says, you blush unwillingly and nod your head, resting against him tiredly. “I know… you are too,” you say through an exhausted hum.
He smiles lovingly, watching as you doze off. He nudges you gently and urges you to get up, “We gotta clean this mess up. Let’s go shower, hm?” Jungkook asks, you groan but you knew he was right. You allowed him to take you both out of the bedroom and to your bathroom, you both ended your night cuddled up together in bed, watching movies until you fell asleep.
You knew you didn’t have to worry about anything anymore as long as you had Jungkook by your side, and buying that dress was most definitely not a mistake… and it will be happening again.
#bts smut#jungkook smut#bts fanfic#bts fic#jungkook fanfic#jungkook bts smut#bts fanfic smut#jeon jungkook smut#jungkook fic#bts jungkook fc
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a lover's pinch | two
joel miller x f!reader
pairing: professor!joel miller x f!reader
rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni
summary: will a complicated realisation drive you and joel apart, or drag you closer together?
warnings/tags: au, university professor joel, age gap [20 something years diff], ethically dubious relationship due to inherent power imbalance, some mildly gratuitous Classics chatter, some very gratuitous descriptions of joel's office, trope of being enamoured by your favourite teacher lol [and her fav isn't even joel, sorry guys], angst, a little manhandling, semi-public sex acts with a not-so-stranger, dirty talk, brief impact play, fingering, orgasm denial, oral [m!receiving], face fucking, facial, cum eating, sheeesh i think that's it okay i need a glass of cold water
word count: 10.3k i'm not sorry
series masterlist | main masterlist
a lover's pinch playlist
a/n: folks, this series has taken over my entire brain. i'm having the best time writing+outlining it, and i have been so delighted by how many people liked the first part. giving you all the biggest kiss through the screen right now. lmk what you think of part two!
this is part two of ALP. you can read the previous part here: one.
Tuesday.
It’s as though a mirage resides in the periphery of your vision.
A wobbling, shimmering thing that offsets the centre of a picture and makes your eyes hurt until you want to close them. The type where you’re squinting and trying to see, trying to make out what’s happening, and people are turning to look at you and pointing and you realise that you aren’t wearing any pants, and it’s a dream, a dream, a nightmare, it’s not fucking real. Illusory. Fantasy.
It's a childish thought that you can’t help but be consumed by. The idea that this is all some cruel, fucked up delusion you’re about to wake up from. That it couldn’t be possible for the charming Texan you’d met four nights prior to be stood only a few metres in front of you, discussing your fucking syllabus. Reality becomes this twisting, writhing thing that is painful and awkward to comprehend, and everything slows to a liquid, dreamlike pace. His voice, his movement, the shifting of other students around you, all drifting by slowly, as if a year has passed in the span of ten seconds.
And yet when you pinch your arm—nails scraping across skin until raw red marks raise in jagged lines—and you don’t wake up, the mirage remains, your stomach rolls.
Joel looks so different here. What had been casual at the bar, a lob of messy hair above a cotton t-shirt, is now professional. Buttoned shirt tucked into pressed brown pants. Beard trimmed, and hair pushed back into soft, tidy waves that roll down to his neck. A set of glasses rest on the bridge of his nose. Square, with black frames that compliment his skin tone, and have your fingers gripping the edge of the desk, wondering why the hell he hadn’t been wearing them on Friday night when he sunk his mouth against your cunt. Dirty little thing.
You can still feel his hands on you, days later. Feel the rough scrape of calloused fingers on your thighs, between your legs. Remember how soft his hair was when you buried your fingers in it and held him against your aching core, whining his name. It had been like this all weekend; holding an image of his tan, handsome face in your mind, trying to emulate the feeling of his hand between your thighs with your own, only to fail over and over again.
And he’s talking. That low, honeyed drawl that tickles across your skin and drips into your ears, warming your insides. It’s a marvellous thing; the way he shifts easily from topic to topic, disarming the room with short, sharp—surprising—jokes sifted in between soft-spoken sentiments about classical academia and the university, and what he hopes you as individuals will gain from a postgraduate in this course, and it feels like it’s been both hours and seconds as you watch him breathlessly, waiting. Waiting for his eyes to skirt to your side of the room, to dance across your face and recognise you, remember you, just as he said he would.
Joel is talking about The Aeneid when he finally notices you.
“I want you to be thinking about language,” he’s saying. “And tone. Virgil and Homer’s writing differs in a lotta ways, but it does share that same character of irony. Don’t forget that Virgil wrote during the Golden Age of the Roman Empire – and he’s presenting us with a story about destiny, about fate. Our focus here isn’t so much about love, or reverence, as it is about tragedy – no one in The Aeneid is safe from what their own fate lays out for them. All of these calamities and heartbreaks are necessary for the empire to thrive.”
He pauses. “Take Dido in book four as a prime example. In the openin’ lines of her story, if we’re looking to the West translation; she is suffering from love’s deadly wound, feeding it with her blood and being consumed by its hidden fire. We know from the beginnin’, that her love for Aeneas will be her downfall; that her death is essential for him to leave Carthage. And on that same page, talkin’ about Aeneas, we get, oh how cruelly he has been hounded by the Fates. This is what you need to think about if you’re gonna get to the bottom of Virgil’s bigger plan with these books. Why is he using this language? These words? I want—”
Joel inhales sharply, dark eyes frozen on your face, which grows steadily warmer beneath his scrutiny. His body doesn’t move, hands hovering in the air mid-gesticulation, lips parted as his next words rest there, caught on his tongue. You swallow thickly. Feel sweat form on your hairline. The silence stretches, dead air giving rise to confused murmurs across the room, and your eyes widen, willing him to look away and continue; to do anything except stand there and keep looking at you like that. But it’s like he’s in a trance. Tan face dimming to a sickly, pallid colour, shoulders shifting as he breaths deeply. Staring.
A few heads turn in your direction, but you can’t bring yourself to look back at them; to snatch yourself away from the feeling of being held in his gaze again. It’s intoxicating—almost euphoric—to have those dark eyes on your skin.
And then it’s over, the moment severed as Joel’s eyes snap away and he clears his throat, offering a pained smile to the rest of the room. And he’s apologising, Lost my train of thought for a moment there, using a playful tone of voice as he says, first day of the semester jitters, y’know?
He ignores you after that.
For the entirety of the two-hour lecture, he makes sure not to spare a single glance in your direction. And it stings, but you suppose you understand. Can see the tension held in his shoulders now; the strain in his voice as he works to talk with that same measured ease he’d had at the beginning.
You take notes carefully, and don’t bother raising your hand when he inspires participation from the other students. But by the end of the class, you can’t bring yourself to walk out – not without saying something, without finding some kind of understanding over what the fuck is happening. You’re practically glued to your seat as students rise, filing out of the theatre hall.
Joel stands by the desk, back hunched as he collects his things, fielding kind comments of thanks and that was great from people as they pass him on their way toward the exit. Eventually you join the stream, wandering down the stairs on shaky legs until you find yourself at the edge of his desk, fiddling with the strap of your bag and watching his back. His shoulders hunch tighter when you pause there, shadow splaying across the desk. Though his face isn’t visible to you, his hands are almost a blur, scrambling to drag his things into a messy pile so that he can pack up faster. He slaps his laptop closed and you flinch at the sound.
After a few moments, you find the courage to speak.
“That was, uhh, that was really interesting,” you clear your throat awkwardly, watching other students shuffle past in your periphery. His hands move faster, stuffing loose notes into a leather satchel with little disregard for the paper creasing.
You lower your voice to a hoarse, careful whisper. “We need to talk about this.”
Joel finally looks up, nostrils flaring as he meets your stare. He nods once, looping the bag over his shoulder. “Not here,” he says gruffly, tight eyes darting around the room. “Room’s booked for another lecture in five.”
He tilts his head towards the door, encouraging you to follow him as he paces out towards the hall. You shadow him quickly, clutching your bag and watching the muscles in his back shift beneath his shirt as he walks three paces ahead of you. You fight the urge to place your hand in the dip between his shoulder blades; to feel the heat of his skin, the rolling tension beneath it, and dig your fingernails into him. Joel doesn’t look back to check if you’re following – he knows you are.
He leads you up a flight of stairs and down another hall, makes a left, and then another left, until finally he’s pausing and dragging a key from his pocket, pressing it into the lock of a heavy wooden door and nudging it open. There’s a plaque on the wood that reads J MILLER, PhD. You swallow. And then follow him inside and let the door fall shut behind you.
Joel stalks into the room, feet heavy against the dark carpet. He tosses his satchel to the floor and then stands by the desk, wild eyes trained on where you hover silently by the door. He looks on edge, to say the least. Frazzled fingers race through his hair, mussing the curls until they look reminiscent of the past Friday. Foot tapping against the ground in a quick, jerky rhythm.
And you know that you need to talk, need to clear the air, need to say anything, but you can’t help it when your eyes wander around the room because—
His office is sort of beautiful.
A larger space than you expected it to be, with a north-facing window that allows a natural yellowed morning light to fill the space, and a vast bookshelf stretching across the wall behind a large desk. You can’t make out the titles from where you stand by the door, but texts fill every crack and crevice of the shelfing unit, not organised by any noticeable colour scheme or structure. The space is messy – personal. In fact, everywhere you look seems to expose something private, something intimate.
A jacket hangs from a hook on the back of the door, made of a worn duck brown waxed material that looks soft to the touch. In the corner opposite the desk, a velvet green armchair sits beside a low table that houses a record player and a potted plant. Sleeves of records are tucked beneath the table, stacked upon each other haphazardly, without a hint of dust on them. Clearly touched and rifled through more often than not.
The wide window is cracked just an inch, allowing a warm early-Fall breeze to slip in and rustle the starched curtains. A coffee mug is beside the record player. Two more sit abandoned on the outskirts of his desk. All empty and forgotten about, too busy to be refilled or moved or cleaned. And there are books everywhere; strewn across his desk, forgotten beneath the cushion of his armchair, piled against the wall beneath the window. Worn, well-read books, with frayed covers and broken spines. You almost drool, tempted to ignore him completely and venture towards them; to run your fingers over the covers and find out exactly what kind of writing this enigma of a man spends so much time devouring.
After what feels like an hour of simply looking—but could only have been a minute—Joel breaks the silence.
“Did you know?”
His voice is quiet. Detached. The backs of his thighs perch on the edge of the desk, hands tangled in his lap. Large fingers pluck at each other as he stares at you from across the room, in an almost anxious fiddling movement.
“What?” you ask.
“Did you know who I was?” he clarifies, voice hardening. Those dark eyebrows tighten in the middle of his forehead, features pinching together into a sharp frown. “When you saw me.”
“Joel,” you scoff, taken aback. “How the hell would I know who you were?”
“Your classes were organised,” his voice raises slightly—just a little. “You knew the names of your profess—”
“J Miller,” you interrupt. “Everything says J Miller, that’s it. I didn’t fucking know, Joel.”
His frown softens at that, eyes dropping to the carpet as he nods once, clearly still unsure. You shuffle awkwardly on your feet, shoulders tense. There’s only a metre or so between the pair of you, and yet you can feel it. That static, burning energy, the same as four nights before. Something inside of you that rages and claws at your skin from the inside, begging to get closer to him. You ignore it.
“Why didn’t I meet you when I interviewed for the program?” you ask. You remember the day you came in, six months ago. Sitting with an older man—the Classics department head—and a soft, round woman with light hair. No Joel. You would’ve remembered him.
His eyes flash, hands tightening in his lap. “I was on vacation,” he grinds out. It’s like it physically pains him to talk to you—to even look at you. One of his hands drops, palm flexing by his side. He’s taking deep breaths, clearly trying to calm the quell of panic that has been swirling inside him for the past two hours. You keep your distance.
After a moment, he speaks again.
“Greece, huh?” It comes out in a low scoff. His eyebrows are raised expectantly, frustration laced through the lines in his face. “Said you were there for a month.”
“Mhm,” you hum. “I was involved in a text translation study based in Athens.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he exhales, digging the palms of his hands over his eyes. “This can’t be happenin’.”
“Joel—”
“Y’need to transfer out of my class,” he interrupts, eyes blazing. “They run it online, you can—”
“What?” you blink. You feel your blood pressure rise, anger spiking as you comprehend what he is suggesting. “Be serious – I am not doing the class online because of this. It’ll jeopardise my entire semester.”
“I don’t care,” he glowers, rising from the desk.
“Jesus, stop acting like this was all my doing,” you snap. “If memory serves, you’re just as to blame as I am—you wanted me just as much as I wanted you.”
“Stop,” he growls. It’s a rough, unforgettable sound that fills your stomach with heat. An oddly familiar thing that raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Silly little slut. The memory licks at your throat, the skin of your chest, leaving a hot heady feeling in its wake. You wonder if he’s noticed the hickey on your neck that hasn’t entirely faded yet. A persistent, lingering reminder of his mouth on your skin. Of the sharp scrape of his teeth.
You take a step forward and Joel’s entire body goes rigid, right hand jutting out in front of him, fingers splayed open.
“Stay over there,” he says quickly, voice a low warning.
You scowl but don’t move, feet planted in the soft carpet. The breeze rushes in through the window and causes a paper on his desk to flap upward, and your eyes drift toward the movement. Gaze shifting over the items on his desk, the mess of papers, the half-full mugs, and then… a picture frame. You squint, unable to make it out from where you are. Take a step forward, and then another, and realise it’s Joel’s shape in the image, standing with a tall woman tucked against his side. It’s too far for you to see clearly, but you can tell his arm is wrapped around her shoulder, holding her against his chest, and you know he’s grinning from the splash of white across his face.
“What’re you—” Joel’s words turn to silence as he tilts his head and realises what you’re looking at. A broad hand darts out, gripping the frame and knocking it face down on his desk. You flinch, eyes widening in incredulity as you turn to him.
“What?” A sardonic laugh escapes your mouth. “Are you fucking married or something? Jesus, Joel.”
You reach for the frame, fingers skirting across it with every intention of seeing, of understanding, of knowing just what it is that he’s so desperate to hide. But then he’s there, strong fingers looping around your wrist, halting your movement. The speed of it sends you stumbling toward the desk, and Joel’s body follows you forward, chest flush against your back as your lower stomach collides with the dark wood. Caught between a rock and a hard place, quite literally. You stiffen, sorely aware of how close he is. How much of his body is touching yours, and how similar it is to before.
“I’m not married,” he bites, and you can feel his breath against your ear. Hot, harsh exhales that send whisps of your hair fluttering forward. A shiver runs down your spine. His grip is firm around your wrist; not hard enough to hurt, but enough to hold you in place with your hand frozen in the air, fingers still outstretched towards the frame.
“Then who’s in the picture?” you grunt.
“None of your fuckin’ business,” he snaps quickly. You can feel his stubble graze the edge of your jaw, and something fizzes in your stomach. Your resolve softens at the frustration in his voice; the truth that bleeds out through his words. It is none of your business. Your body relaxes a little, arm going limp in his hold, and yet he doesn’t let go. It takes a moment for you to realise why.
Joel’s hips are pressed tightly into you, trapping you against the desk, and he’s hard. You can practically feel him throb against the small of your back, the full length of his cock only separated from you by two layers of clothing. Saliva pools in your mouth, eyes pinching closed as you remember the feeling of him; the delicious burn of his heavy cock dragging through you. Using your free hand, you twist your arm behind you and slide it down his front. A whispered oh fuck escapes your lips as your fingers drag across the front of his pants, and he grunts in your ear, grasp tightening around your wrist. Painful this time, but only for a second, until he’s tearing his hand off you and placing it on your lower back, pushing you down so that your chest is flush with his desk.
You gasp, lips parting to speak, but no words are coming out and Joel’s hands are on the waistband of your jeans, on the button. He’s undoing it, fingers steadfast in their movement, and then he yanks the material down roughly over your ass.
“Joel,” you whimper urgently as he grips your panties, dragging them to your knees as well. He keeps you bent against the desk, so you twist your neck to stare at him over your shoulder, legs tensing when you see the expression on his face. His eyes are dark, pupils blown behind his glasses as he looks down to where his covered cock grinds against the swell of your ass.
“God dammit,” he exhales, and you clench around nothing, warmth pooling between your thighs. This is so different from at the bar. There the door was locked, place full of people who didn’t know either of you. Here, in his office, anyone could walk in. A member of faculty, a student, anyone. And the thought has you fucking aching for him.
Thick fingers streak between your thighs from behind, spreading your slick folds apart. You gasp as cool air hits your throbbing clit, but the sound cuts into a low moan as his fingers expertly roll over the sizzling nerve endings there. He ousts a low grunt of surprise at how wet you are, hips still grinding against you as his fingers drift to your entrance, rubbing and collecting your slick on his fingers until you’re whimpering into your own palm, pressing your hips back and begging him for more. All at once, one of his palms slaps across your ass while two thick fingers press inside you. The sting has your eyes rolling back. Your teeth sink into the palm of your hand to muffle the noise you make, and he’s curling his fingers inside you, rubbing against your g-spot, and your legs are trembling with the effort of staying standing. Your mind is a blur. You feel almost lightheaded at how suddenly this is all happening – and at how relieved you are to feel his hands on you again.
“S’this what you wanted?” Joel pants, scissoring his fingers inside you, stretching you out. “Knew if you followed me in here, I’d end up fuckin’ this pretty pussy again? Huh?”
“Fuck,” you choke out, eyelids fluttering as he adds a third finger. Heat sizzles beneath the tightening muscles in your stomach, and you can feel yourself clenching around him over and over again, your high already approaching. It’s almost pitiful, the affect he has on you; how easily your body yields to the simplest of touches from his hands.
“Huh?” he prompts for a response. You can feel the cool zipper of his pants cutting across the bare skin of your ass, scratching you as his hips rut forward.
“Please,” you say, voice quiet as you can muster. “I’m so close, Joel, please.”
He grunts, increasing the speed of his fingers. Soft squelching sounds are audible now, slick smearing against your inner thighs, his wrist, and your face goes warm at the sound of it. Your fingers claw at his desk, nails catching on paper as your hand lands against a book and grips it tight. Your abdomen burns, that soft thrumming heat licking at your skin, the muscles of your thighs, scorching in its might as your orgasm builds and builds, hanging dangerously close to the precipice.
“Gonna come all over my fingers?” Joel asks, voice haggard and breathless. “C’mon, give it t’me.”
You’re nodding before he even finishes speaking, forehead knocking roughly against wood, eyebrows pinching together. So close, so close, so fucking clo—
A light knock sounds against his office door.
Joel freezes. Your eyes widen, hips shifting against his hand as you murmur no, no, no, please Joel. But he ignores you, gripping your hip to keep you still and dragging his fingers from your dripping cunt to press them over your mouth. Your pulse thunders in your ears, heart trashing wildly in your chest as you catch your breath, devasted.
“Joel?” a soft voice calls from the hall. A woman. “You in there?”
“Just on the phone,” he says loudly, voice surprisingly steady. You can taste yourself on his fingers. Feel it smear across your lips. “What d’ya need?”
“I’m headed to the café,” the woman calls. “You want anything?”
Joel responds with a sharp, resounding no.
There’s a beat of silence where you can almost feel him holding his breath, waiting for her to inevitably open the unlocked door and discover the scene in his office. But the silence stretches on, and then you can hear soft footfalls fade down the corridor, and you know that you’re alone again.
Joel rips his hand from your mouth. Grips your underwear and drags it up over your hips, then your jeans, before he’s stumbling away and dropping into the armchair across the room. His chest heaves with ragged breaths, eyes wide as he gazes at the floor. When you push off the desk and turn to stare at him, a firm tent is visible in his pants. You button your jeans slowly, watching him. He doesn’t look at you.
“Joel—” you start softly.
“Don’t,” he interrupts. “Just… just get out.”
You open your mouth to speak—to argue—but once again, nothing comes out. No words to defend yourself, or what the two of you just did. You stare at him for almost a minute, but Joel’s eyes stay trained on the carpet, fists clenched against his thighs.
You leave his office silently and try not to look back. Make two rights and head down the stairs, outside and across the green to where your car is parked. The whole thing feels so dirty, so debauched, and yet you want so much more from him. Want it so badly that you drive home in silence, mind too busy with thoughts of Joel Joel Joel to remember to turn on the radio.
And behind it all, is a low, itching thought at the base of your skull, something that makes you smile as you drive – the knowledge that he wants you just as badly as you want him.
Wednesday.
You decide very quickly that you like Rachel.
Maybe it was because you were having a good day. The sun had been shining when you woke up; strong beams that teased their way through the window in your bedroom and rested warm upon the bare skin of your back. By the time you rose, the coffee was already done brewing, and Trin met you in the hall with a large mug of it and a soft hey, man, how’d you sleep? And when you went to get dressed for the day you remembered you did the washing two nights before, and found your favourite pair of jeans—the ones that squeezed your ass just right—were neatly folded in a drawer, waiting for you. Yes; maybe all of that had something to do with it. Or maybe, it because Rachel was just great.
You like her tenacity, her words; the idolatry with which she discusses her work. And she is charming; an intellectual through and through. The soft roundness of her face and the kind slant to her eyes offset by a razor-sharp wit. And there’s this peculiar quirkiness to her that catches your attention in seconds – a rough snort whenever she laughs, the bright orange shade of the toenails sticking out of her sandals.
Her teaching is direct, no-bullshit, and yet she has this smile. This soft, thin-lipped genuine smile that says, I know something you don’t know, and I can’t wait to share it with you.
During her first lecture, you feel rooted to the spot, unable to draw your eyes away from her for two-hours as she waxes poetic about heroines and tragic love stories, about the importance of myth, of gore.
Listening to her reminds you of what you’d always loved about classics – the filth of it, the horror. It feels like reaching your hands into a puddle of mud, flexing your fingers and letting the dirt and grime slide beneath your nails, coating every inch of your skin. The squeamishness of it, the rot, the tragedy – you love it all, and Rachel does too.
“When we talk about the juxtaposition between heroines across different texts,” she says. “We want to look at the values being portrayed; the meaning behind what’s happening to these women. Let’s appreciate the context here, guys! To understand the rage of Medea, or, say, the sacrifice of Iphigenia, we have to get to the root of their roles in society. Priestess, mistress, virgin, mother – we want to understand the perspectives being shown to us. What drives these women? What fire lives within them, pushing them to make their decisions—or to have their decisions made for them?”
She points to a student and nods, “Go on.”
“Do you think Medea holds much bearing here?” someone to your left asks. A man. “If we’re focusing on heroines, I mean.”
“Do you?” she challenges. A hint of a smile—that smile—drifts across her lips, hands clasped to her stomach as she awaits his response.
“Not particularly,” he says, voice less sure now. “I know you can view any text through most perspectives, but I’d never thought of her so much as a heroine in a feminist text.”
“I see,” Rachel nods. “Well, the short answer is that I’d encourage you to read it again.” She laughs, a soft tinkering sound. “The long answer is that her character is complex. Let’s not beat around the bush; Medea is a woman scorned. Banished by Creon, forgotten by Jason. As the reader, we are able to comprehend the most brutal pain through her – a woman trapped in a world where men have decided everything for her, and she is furious. Even describes herself as a woman born to sorrow. Now, as the reader, it is your right to believe that she is bad, or an anti-heroine, but you cannot deny that she is made bad by circumstances out of her own control.” She pauses, thick eyebrows jutting upward as she looks around the quiet theatre. “I’d say that’s pretty feminist of Euripides.”
You approach her afterwards, fingers an awkward tangle in front of your chest.
“I just have to say,” you smile bashfully. “That was wonderful. You’re so engaging, I was… god, I don’t even know what to say, but thank you. I’m really looking forward to learning from you this semester.”
Rachel’s eyes light up at your words.
Up close you notice a pair of thick, ceramic earrings dangling from her lobes. They look hand painted; thick brushstrokes of dandelion yellow smeared across crimson red ovals.
“Oh, how lovely,” her eyes assess you quickly, mouth splitting into a crooked, fond smile. “I’m very glad to have you here…?”
You tell your name in a mumbled rush, and she nods once, eyes scanning the list of students on her sheet.
“Oh of course,” she says knowingly. “You emailed yesterday, no? Some trouble with accessing the readings online?”
You stiffen. Blink at her, smile dimming somewhat. “Yeah,” you exhale. “Yes, that’s actually—I was having trouble with the link for another class, and I hoped you might be able to help.”
“I see,” she frowns then. “Well, unfortunately if it’s not for this class I won’t be of much help; my access code only gets me so far in that damn portal. Which professor assigned the reading?”
“It’s, uhh,” you speak slowly, the words stiff as they stumble out of your mouth. “It’s Joel Miller.”
“Oh, Joel?” she smiles. “Well, he’ll be happy to help, I’m sure. He’s usually in his office around this time – do you need me to show you the way?”
Your mouth is dry. Yeah, you think. I’m sure he’ll be over the moon to see me.
“That’s okay,” you reply with a tight smile. “I’ll find it.”
She nods, bids you a warm goodbye, and her eyes have already drifted back to the papers in front of her when you turn to leave the room.
Your bag weighs heavy on your shoulder, straps of canvas material digging into the muscle there as you retrace your footsteps from yesterday. Up the creaking set of stairs, taking a left, and then another left, and your mind is a blur, static wobbling in your veins as you rehearse what you’re going to say, how you’re going to say it.
It’s been less than twenty-four hours since you’d last seen him, and from the second you left, an image of what happened in his office played on a loop in your brain. Like the spool on a VHS has been stuck together, wound into a circle, and the tape repeats over and over again, the same images, sounds, smells, soaking your mind until all else is white noise. And it’s twisted, and wrong, and you’re vaguely aware of that, somewhere in the part of your brain where you stash knowledge that you’d prefer to forget. Because it’s easier to forget the hard part, the ugly part, and far nicer to remember the scrape of his stubble against your skin. The smell of him filling your nostrils as he crowds you against his desk. The scratch on your ass from his zipper. Remember how your name sounds when he moans it, and forget the feeling that comes when he refuses to look at you after the fact.
And you wonder if this is what the entire semester will be like; spending each day reminiscing on your last interaction with Joel, hoping for another touch, taste, another chance, another something, anything, from him. The weight of it sits heavy on your chest, like a wall of freshly cemented bricks left to solidify in the sun. And beneath that, beneath the clay and sand and limestone, excitement buzzes. Indisputable, persistent, anticipation. A vibrating that hums in your bones and has you shivering from the tips of your toes to the top of your skull as you knock on his office door.
J MILLER PhD. The words glare at you from the bronze plaque for the second time in two days.
You hear his voice call pleasantly from behind the door. Light, relaxed. You swallow down the lump in your throat and step inside.
The window is wide open today, pale curtains drawn back to allow the bright midday sun to shine through and warm the carpet. Joel’s head tilts upward and within seconds the soft, easy smile on his face dissolves into something unreadable. He’s perched behind his desk, broad frame bent over a mess of papers, pen tucked neatly between coiled fingers. A clear tension simmers in the lines on his forehead; a tangible rigidity that clouds his expression when he sees that it’s you. He clicks the top of his pen once, twice, three times, and says your name in a clipped greeting.
“Hi,” you say, hand raising in a quick wave. “Sorry to barge in like this, I, uhh, I was wondering if you could help me with something.”
“My office hours are between one and four,” he says tersely, eyes lowering back to his book. “Schedule an appointment over email.”
Your eyebrows shoot up, face warming as embarrassment swells in your chest. All of the excitement—the longing—that had churned inside you since yesterday seems to dissipate, replaced by a looming sense of dread as you register how distant and apathetic he seems. How hard he tries to not even look in your direction. Those words from yesterday ring in your ears. Just get out.
“Seriously?” you mutter, nonetheless, trying to contain the hurt that threatens to spill across your face. “It’ll take five seco—”
“Seriously,” he repeats firmly.
Your jaw clenches, annoyance tightening the already stiff muscles in your shoulders as you march over to his desk, dropping your bag onto the edge of it. The exact same spot from yesterday, where’d pressed you down against the wood and— Joel’s shoulders hunch. The sleeves of his shirt are pushed up to just below his elbows, thin white material stressing around cords of muscle. You gaze at the bare skin for a moment, tongue heavy in your mouth, before looking to what he was doing before you came in. A book in front of him is filled with scribbles and annotations, harsh black marks scrawled beneath thin lines of text. You only get a second to look at it before his hands are snapping it shut, revealing the cover. Robert Fagles’ translation of The Odyssey. The picture frame from yesterday is nowhere to be seen.
“Working on something for a lecture?” you try. If it’s about class, he can’t be mad. If it’s about class, he can’t push you away.
“What do you need?” he asks impatiently, ignoring your words entirely.
A hand lifts to rub the skin above his eyebrow. The tip of his middle finger massages the tan skin there in soft circles, and you watch the movement for a second, transfixed. No ring. I’m not married. His other hand reaches for the mug on his desk, and he takes a long, drawn-out sip of black coffee. Steam billows from the dark liquid, fogging the lenses of his glasses. The sight makes you want to laugh, but you swallow it down, acutely aware that Joel would be less than impressed by the reaction.
“I can’t access one of the readings for next week,” you explain distractedly, dragging the laptop from your bag.
You round his desk in a few short steps and Joel sighs, cringing as you place it down in front of him, opening the screen for him to see. He shifts his chair just slightly to the right, away from you. That persistent feeling of doubt coils in your gut, sharp teeth that twist and nip at your insides, taunting you, telling you that he doesn’t want you. And it’s not why you’re here—not at all—but you can’t bring yourself believe it. Don’t want to believe it. So you bite back – turn your back to his desk and pitch your thighs atop the edge of it, feet dangling an inch off the ground. You jeans are tight, and the fabric cuts into the skin of your hips where they bend.
“Get down,” he warns sharply, dismissing you with a taut shake of his head. “You can ask IT for help with that.”
“I’m asking you,” you persist stubbornly. “You’re my professor, Joel—"
“Yes, I am your professor,” Joel bites in agreement, glowering up at you. You stiffen warily at the heat in his gaze. At the anger you can see stirring in those dark brown orbs, brimming and ready to boil over. “And I don’t think we should be alone together,” he adds. “It’s not… this is bad for us, okay? I can’t… fuck, you can’t just come in here. I don’t want you comin’ in here anymore.”
And the memory plays once more. That thing, that something twisted, something wrong, something familiar, curls in your stomach. Snaps and bares its teeth at your uncertainty, sends it scattering into the distance, and replaces it with want.
“I didn’t even plan to come here,” your voice hardens, hackles rising as the feeling rises within you. “You’re not the first person I asked, alright? I just need some fucking help—”
“Don’t swear at me,” he interrupts through gritted teeth.
A beat of stunned silence hangs between you. A shocked laugh tumbles from your mouth, eyes widening as you take in the grave expression on his face.
“You have got to be kidding me,” you stare at him incredulously. “Joel, you had your fingers inside of me against this desk yesterday. I think swearing is the least of our worries.”
“Jesus,” he spits, pushing his chair further from the desk. His elbows fall against his knees, head resting in his palms as he breaths, not looking at you. “You’re fuckin’ filthy, y’know that? Can you not just behave?”
Don’t swear, you want to tease, but think better of it.
Instead, you nod slowly, drop your hand onto the desk, fingers hovering over his book. “Joel,” you implore, tone pleading. “I don’t… I don’t know how to act around you right now, okay? It’s not easy for me to just pretend nothing has happened between us. To just forget.”
“And you think it’s easy for me?” he gripes. His eyes are focused on your hand; on the way your fingers tense and untense over the bound cover, stroking the frayed paper his own fingers have clearly touched countless times. He doesn’t move a muscle. “To try and act like things are normal, act like I didn’t—” he cuts himself off, lips clamping shut. An anguished look crosses his features.
“We’re both adults,” you frown. “It’s not a crime that we fucked, Joel.”
A harsh laugh falls from his mouth, stern eyes blazing. “Ain’t about that and you know it. It’s against professional ethics,” Joel snaps, tone firm. “Against university policy – if anybody finds out it could put us both in jeopardy.”
You’re silent for a moment, watching him. His glasses have slid down a little, and they rest precariously on the tip of this nose. Dark eyes stare from over the top of black frames, and then his legs are crossing, one tucking tightly over the other, a thick forearm dropping to rest across his lap, and want burns in your throat. You struggle to remember why you came to his office in the first place.
“Nobody is going to find out,” you whisper.
A rasp of your name catches in his throat. Joel looks bemused, face as flat as he rolls his eyes. “Quit fuckin’ playin’ around. You know how serious this is.”
You contain the urge to scowl, lips tight as you say, “Yeah, I know. Just—look, you don’t have to worry. We can cut it off right now – I won’t say a word of it to anyone. Nothing else is going to happen.”
But you can see the way his eyes flicker down your body whenever you move. How his gaze rests heavily at the pinch of your waist, the spread of your thighs against his desk, your bare arms, before darting away. You wonder if he’s touched himself thinking about you, and a jagged heat tears through the top of your thighs as you picture what that would look like.
“But that's not what you want, is it?” you ask softly. Joel doesn’t speak. He’s so still you almost think he didn’t hear you. But his eyes glance to your thighs again, you know that he did.
“You want me,” you say then, voice low and sure.
The muscle in his jaw ticks. Lips purse around clenched teeth and a harsh breath escapes his nose before he’s saying your name again, a strained whisper. And God, you love the way he says it. Like the word was created just to spite him.
“You are walkin’ on some mighty thin ice right now,” he grits out, heated gaze scorching your skin.
You glance down to his lap, where a forearm still balances over his crotch, and arch an eyebrow.
“Show me,” you murmur.
You can hear him breathing. Slow, exaggerated puffs of breath, chest rising and falling at an increasing pace as he maintains eye contact. Large hands tighten into fists, fingers curling against palms, and he’s dragging his arm back from his lap, spreading his legs as far as they’ll go within the arms of his chair. You wet your lips, face heating as you stare. The firm line of his cock is evident beneath his pants, a solid ridge against his left thigh. When you look back to his face there’s a faint red hue colouring the skin of his neck, steadily rising toward the edge of his facial hair. He’s blushing.
“How long?” you ask, voice awed.
“Since you got on the desk,” Joel grumbles, tone almost begrudging.
You hum softly, a low vibration in your throat, and then you’re slipping off his desk and taking a step towards him. And he doesn’t flinch away. He watches you close the distance between the pair of you and hover between his thighs, your legs almost brushing his.
“Let me help,” you whisper, lowering onto the ground in front of him. The carpet is warm and rough against your jean-clad knees. Your eyes drift from his face to between his thighs, and then back up, slowly.
“We shouldn’t,” he croaks, lips chapped and dry. You want to kiss him senseless. Want to drag your tongue across his mouth until it’s soaking wet and then push your way inside.
“But do you want me to?”
An agonising beat of silence follows. But there’s no doubt there anymore. No more wondering, or uncertainty, because you can see it in his eyes. The same all-consuming, devastating desire that crawls its way up to rest at the base of your throat whenever you’re with him.
And then thick fingers are at the waist of his pants, undoing his leather belt, his button, pushing the material open to reveal a pair of black briefs. He doesn’t take his pants off, just adjusts slightly in the chair before pressing his hand beneath the band of his underwear. Joel grips himself, the sight still obscured from your vision, and you find yourself mesmerised nonetheless, unable to drag your eyes away from the dark material. A low grunt escapes him, and then he shifts the band of his underwear down and pulls his cock out.
The head of him is swollen and leaking, tight skin so red that it’s almost a purple hue against the stark white of his shirt. Joel’s fingers tighten around his base, stroking himself once. Impatient, you lick you hand and let it drift forward to replace his, fingers slipping over the silky wet skin of his head and wrapping around him. Your hand is so much smaller in comparison, and your fingertips almost don’t meet as you flex your grip around girth.
Your underwear clings to the skin between your thighs, material warm and damp against you, a result of the simmering heat that rests in the base of your belly and flares every time Joel sighs. When you glance up to see his face, he’s already staring at you, pupils blown wide, lips sealed in a tight line. His length twitches in your palm, and you salivate.
You lean in and place a gentle kiss again his tip, smearing the pearl of precome there against your lips. You stroke the length of him in slow, firm pumps, guiding his head against your puckered lips, but not quite taking it inside yet. Joel’s fists are tight against his thighs, and you wish he would put them in your hair, on the back of your head, grip you, pull you down against him. But he doesn’t, not yet.
He’s got a salty, heady taste, and you swipe your tongue out to clean the hint of it from your mouth, swallowing with a satisfied purr. A harsh exhale shoots from his nose, eyebrows dragging further down as he watches you tease him.
A quick flick of your tongue against his slit has a sharp gasp rising from him, and in response you lathe wet, messy kisses to his head, puckering your lips around it and swirling your tongue, not caring what you look like, not caring that he probably wants you to go faster. It’s purely for your own enjoyment, and you’re moaning and sighing around the taste of him. You want to take Joel Miller a part, piece by piece, and feel him come undone beneath your mouth.
Unable to wait any longer, you let his head slip passed your open lips and sink into the wet heat of your mouth. And he’s so quiet, so composed, so you glide your tongue over his slit again before pressing forward, lips meeting the movement of your own hand as you take him deeper.
Your jaw strains, muscles smarting as you attempt to take the entirety of him. He’s so long, so thick, and the tip of him is nudging against the back of your throat in seconds, making your eyes water. And god it’s better than you could’ve imagined.
Tears cling to your eyelashes as you look up and find Joel with his bottom lip snagged between his teeth, pink skin turning white from pressure. The heavy weight of him crowds your senses, his taste on your tongue and scent in your nostrils, everywhere, and you can feel how hot your face is getting but you can’t look away from him. You don’t stop until his hand is landing on the nape of your neck, collecting your hair in his fist and dragging your mouth off him. You part with a wet gasp, a string of saliva dangling between his tip and your shiny lips.
“Breathe, goddammit,” Joel says, holding you still when you attempt to press forward and take him back into your mouth.
“You’re so big,” you say earnestly, head tilting backward to rest heavy in his hold. You blink through bleary eyes, smiling lazily. Drunk on him after only a little taste. “Couldn’t stop thinking about this, you know. How you’d taste… how it would feel to have you in my mouth.”
“Fuck, stop,” Joel says quickly, voice pained. “Y’can’t say shit like that.” His grip tightens at the base of your neck, and then he’s guiding your face forward so the head of his cock slips back into your mouth, effectively shutting you up.
You hum appreciatively and relax your jaw, taking him until he’s nudging at your throat again, and he’s still so fucking silent. Determined to get some kind of reaction from him, you pull off and lick a broad stripe from tip to base, hand stroking his length in unhurried, firm pulls as your mouth finds his heavy balls. Your tongue glides along the sensitive skin in slow, overwhelming movements, leaving no inch of him untouched. Wet sounds fill the air as the movement of your fist increases in pace, and your lips drag over him, sucking one of his balls into your mouth and then—finally—a long, drawn-out groan spills into the air, and he’s saying, “Shit, that’s it.”
Never pausing the movement of your hand, you pull back just a smidge and grin.
Joel’s hands are on you then, another deep sound sputtering from his lips. He’s brushing your hair off your face, mussing it as he rakes his fingers through it, short nails scraping against your scalp. He swears softly when you take him back into your mouth.
“Fuck,” he mutters breathlessly. “Is that what you want? Needy little thing wants a little praise, huh? Want me to tell you how good you are, how good your pretty mouth feels on my cock?”
You whimper, eyelids fluttering as you begin to move on him desperately. Your mouth tightens around him, and a tear squeezes from your eyes as his hips jolt forward, cock nudging suddenly into the back of your throat. Joel’s hand cups the back of your head, strokes the damp skin at the base of your neck as you gag around him.
“Jesus,” Joel groans at the sound. “There you go, s’perfect, s’fuckin’ perfect.”
The muscles in your thighs tighten, legs pressing together to try and soothe the pulsing ache there. Your head is moving up and down along his length and it’s wet and messy and depraved, saliva gliding down your chin to your neck, and you fucking love it. Joel’s gruff sounds of encouragement only serve to spur you on.
And then, as if by some stroke of divine intervention, it happens again.
A firm rap against the door of his office.
Joel goes silent. Your shoulders tense, and you pull back until his tip rests heavy on your bottom lip. Wide eyed, you gaze up at him, panic swelling in your chest. And then comes that voice; the same voice as yesterday.
“You in there Joel?”
You can feel your lungs squeezing inside your chest, grasping violently for air and finding zero reprieve as the reality of the moment begins to overwhelm you, because you know that voice.
“Fuck,” you whisper dazedly, slumping back to rest on your heels. “Fuck, fuck, fu—”
Joel shakes his head, strong hands gripping your shoulders to soothe you. “Shh,” he hushes quietly. “Stop, hey, stop. It’s fine.”
Another knock at the door. Nowhere for you to go, nowhere to hide.
“Just a sec, Rachel,” Joel calls, voice laced with frustration.
And then those hands are guiding you backwards. You move blindly, allowing him to encourage your body back, back, back, broad palm protecting your head as he nudges you underneath the desk. Further and further until you’re completely hidden, tucked away where only he can see you. And as you settle into the warm, sweaty space, watch Joel drag his chair forward and squeeze his long legs around your body, you feel the panic quell. Your pulse slows, the tremor in your hands settles, and cool relief comes in the form of a chill down your spine.
“Come in,” Joel calls. You can hear the door click open a second later, soft footsteps entering the room. You hold your breath as they begin to talk, heart stuttering, eyes trained on his where his spit-soaked cock rests against the underside of his desk.
“Sorry to be a bother,” Rachel’s soft voice chimes. “I was hoping to grab my copy of The Annals, I need it for the undergrad lecture I’m covering this afternoon.”
“Course,” he says sharply, and you can hear a drawer to your right open and close. A moment of silence. “All yours.”
Your abdomen tenses at the sound of his haggard voice, and something tight pulls in your chest. A flare of jealousy, of possessiveness, at the fact that someone else is seeing him right now. That the flush on his cheeks, the sweat on his neck, is no longer yours alone. And it’s absurd, because she has no idea. But the desire to reclaim the moment for yourself, to assert that his sweat, his blush—his body—is yours is overwhelming, and you find your hand gripping his heavy cock, tongue gliding out of your mouth to swipe against his weeping tip. The dread from before flares in the back of your mind but you push it away, shove it down until it’s hazy, a faint ringing that fades into the sound of your blood rushing in your ears.
Joel’s thighs stiffen. He coughs, a sharp, surprised noise.
“Thanks for that,” Rachel says, voice slow. “Hey… are you doing okay? Looking pretty faint over there, Miller.”
You smile around him and rub your tongue in teasing strokes along the underside of his sensitive head. He clears his throat roughly, and then his hand is slipping underneath the desk to tangle in your hair. It’s rough and it stings, and you find yourself humming ever so slightly around him, indicating that you love it.
“Feelin’ a little under the weather,” he agrees faintly.
“Should try some of that tea I always tell you about,” she says, ever so friendly. “Works a treat when you’re sick.”
“Maybe I will,” Joel says, and his fingers are twisting in your messy locks, pulling your mouth away from his cock.
Although he can’t see you, you pout. Not wanting to push it, you settle for looping three fingers around him, index middle and thumb, gripping just beneath his head, and begin to rub him in slow, soundless movements. With every forward motion of your hand, the tip of his cock brushes against your lower lip, and his grip on your hair tightens.
“I could bring you some,” Rachel offers then. You can practically hear the smile in her voice, picture the kind slant to her eyes. “Maybe tomorrow, if you think you’ll be coming into wor—”
“I’ll be here tomorrow,” Joel snaps suddenly, voice almost harsh as he interrupts her. “Was that all you needed?”
“Oh,” she replies awkwardly. “Yeah, sorry.”
“No,” he says, audibly flustered. His cock is drooling over your lips, and the salty taste has your pussy aching, clenching painfully tight, begging to be filled. “m’sorry, got a fuckin’ headache, is all. Tea tomorrow?”
“Tea tomorrow, sure,” Rachel confirms. “Sorry again, I… yeah, sorry, I hope you feel better, Joel.”
Whem the door closes a moment later Joel is shoving his chair backward again, hands wrenching you out from underneath his desk. You fall forward, flushed and breathless. His expression is thunderous, pitch-black eyes glaring down at you. On all fours, you crawl forward and splay your palms across his thighs, feel them twitch and tremble beneath your nimble fingers.
“You couldn’t fuckin’ wait?” he snaps, hand finding a home in your hair once more. He drags it into a ponytail and wraps it around his fist.
“Sorry,” you lie, teeth nipping at your swollen bottom lip. Joel’s eyes follow the movement and he grunts, unimpressed with the apology.
“She could’ve caught us,” he admonishes you.
“Better start locking the door then,” you clip, winking lazily. A short huff passes through his lips, and then his left hand is dropping to land on your chin, thumb rubbing against your lower lip, prying it from between your teeth.
“Open,” he orders.
His jaw is set with concentration, eyebrows drawn low as he cradles your jaw, holding it still while he pushes his cock back into your eager mouth. The salt of him rushes your senses again and you’re moaning around him, cheeks hollowed and eyes wet as he begins to rut into your mouth, the tip of his cock caressing the back of your throat with every thrust. It’s fast and hard, and the noises coming out of you are scandalous, but you can’t drag your eyes away from his face. Lips parted, eyes ablaze as he watches his cock push in and out of your mouth, over and over again. A tear streaks down your cheek and Joel groans, swiping at it with his fingers. Shallow curses and murmurs of your name spill from his lips in a tortured stream of consciousness.
“Always so fuckin’—impatient,” he mutters. His grip on your jaw is near bruising, cock throbbing against your tongue. You can sense how close he is. Feel it in the way his hips start to stutter, snapping thrusts losing their rhythm.
The stretch has a dull ache searing through your jaw, but Joel is breathless, eyes dark and focused on yours, saying, “Look at you. So pretty takin’ my cock like this.” and you can’t bring yourself to care. Your eyelids flutter closed, and his fingers are tapping your cheek quickly—softly?
“Let me see you,” he says urgently. “Want those eyes on me, don’t close them.” You cast your eyes up to meet his gaze, and Joel hisses under his breath, expression taut.
His hips drag backward, and he’s replacing your mouth with his hand, fucking himself in quick, brutal strokes, and your mouth is open, slick tongue peaking between your lips before he can even say open your mouth.
“Fuck,” he exhales at the sight, tip bumping against your tongue with every wet pump of his fist. His thighs are trembling beneath your hands, and you dig your nails into the muscles there, encouraging him. “Fuck me.”
And then he’s coming, face going slack as hot ropes of his come paint your lips, your tongue, your chin. Unashamed rasps of your name fall from pink lips, washing over you in glorious waves as you sit there and take all of it. And for a moment, you think it’s over. But then Joel’s hand is still moving over his length, calloused thumb gliding against the ridge of his rounded tip, and there’s more.
“Fuck,” he groans. “Fuck—yes.”
Salty strings of his spend gloss over your cheeks and slide down to paint your neck. And it’s like he’s coming a second time, torso jolting in short, jerky movements, and you wish you could see his body while he came; the way the muscles in his stomach would flex and pull taut, entire frame straining as he gives you his all.
His shoulders slump forward as he stares down at you, hand falling away from his sensitive cock, and his face is ruined. Eyes blown wide, cheeks a dark red, looking at you like he’d enjoy nothing more than to devour you whole. Maintaining eye contact, you swallow down his spend, practically purring at the taste of him.
Joel’s thumb smears his come off your cheeks and into your swollen mouth, making sure you don’t miss a single drop.
“Good girl,” his voice is broken. “That’s it, yeah—yes, s’perfect.”
Perfect, perfect, perfect. The word rings in your ears. Your skin is on fire, and you can’t believe that you are both still fully clothed. You feel naked, bared to him in the truest sense of the word, despite being completely covered up.
He groans heartily when you suck his fingers between your lips, tongue swirling around them greedily, and swallow down the last of his spend.
For a moment after, the two of you simply sit there, your knees chafed and aching against the carpet, his fingers hooked against your tongue, staring at each other. And you know. You both know – there’s no going back from this.
Joel drags his hand away and snatches a box of tissues from the top drawer of his desk. You stand, knees popping in relief, and lean against the desk to stabilise yourself. He takes a moment to clean himself, and when you’re sure he’s not looking you swipe a pen from his desk, scribble a set of numbers on a post it and press the sticky paper down against the cover of The Odyssey.
He offers you the box of tissues and you wipe your face carefully, make sure no trace of him is left on your skin. Joel watches your movements like a hawk, eyes fading from black to brown as he fixes his belt and tucks his shirt back into his pants.
“You good?” he asks after a moment. And it’s the same. The same thing he asked you that night in the bar after fucking your brains out. After calling you a slut, a dirty little thing. Maybe it’s his thing—you good? And it’s more than anyone else has ever said after you’ve had their cock in your mouth, so you smile at him. Nod. The duality of man, you think.
“Perfect,” you use his word, and cringe at how wrecked your voice is. The corner of Joel’s mouth twitches upward, something sly and conspiratorial in his gaze as he watches you tuck your computer into your bag, IT issue long forgotten.
Even as you wander toward the door of his office, tossing a casual see you tomorrow over your shoulder, you can see it in his face. In the lines by his eyes, the furrow of his brow; never satiated, never finished, never satisfied. More, more, more. This wasn’t enough for either of you. And this will not be the last time.
Hours later, when you’re tucked into bed with a glass of wine and a book perched in your lap, you get a text from an unknown number.
You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days.
And then another, twenty minutes later.
That can’t happen again.
You grin. Save his number under J MILLER, PhD, and don’t reply.
tags: @lovely-ateez @nana90azevedo @stevie75 @evyiione @dameron-grant-spector @brittmb115 @ashhlsstuff @casa-boiardi @sinfulrock @bbyanarchist @murc0cks4eva @hopplessilse @joeldjarin @anoverwhelmingdin @bluevxnus @kelp-dreaming @prettyinpunk85 @spacelatinos4life @iluvurfather @daisies-yellow @mrsquill @sarap-77 @sunnywithachanceofjavi @alleyy-katt @zeida
thank you for reading! x
#my writing#fic: a lover's pinch#professor!joel#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller#joel miller smut
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🤍𓂃 ࣪˖ if you can read this, it means you're still here! which is an achievement in itself. im so proud of you. <3
i have been falling back into some bad habits recently, and thinking about it a lot. i had a really, really bad night last night and this morning i woke up with puffy eyes and a messy room but i felt light.
imagine yourself in december this year. imagine yourself looking back on today and smiling at how far you've come. everything can change in one year. everything can change at any time.
there is a whole entire world for you. the sound of rain on the glass, the way the petals fall in the spring, the way the sun rises in the morning, that stranger that smiled at you on the street, that cute little dog you saw on your way to work or school or wherever you went to this morning.
there are people you haven't even met who are cheering you on. you have so many people admiring you from the sidelines because they're too shy to say it. i have been one of those people and still am. there are people who admire the tiniest things about you; the creases by your eyes when you smile, the cute little dimples on your cheeks, the way your hair gets so messy after being out in the wind, the way you hold yourself with such confidence, the way you try so hard to be better every day even if it's hard.
there are people who love you beyond belief that you've never even met yet. because there is so much to be explored, so much to be learnt, so much to see and so much to meet. 8 billion people. 8 billion. even if it feels like you're surrounded by people who don't love you, who don't want the best for you, who don't take care of you and admire you half as much as they should, they are not the last people in the world, and they never will be. there are 8 billion people! think about that for a second! there is someone who is wishing for you the way you are wishing for them! there are people who have so much love for you they haven't even had the chance yet to express!! that's so beautiful!!! <3
there are people who do love you beyond belief, even if you guys don't talk anymore. there are people who smile when they look back on you guys time together, from your childhood best friend to that girl you complimented in the street years and years and years ago. there are people who look back on your memory fondly and still love you and are so happy to see you flourishing.
its okay to be sensitive, its okay to get upset by things. not everything is going to be okay all the time, and neither are you. you can't have good without the bad, and the good always comes afterwards better than you'd ever imagined. life is feeling everything deeply and learning from it, no matter how hard it was or still is. you can always make it through because the most sensitive people are the strongest people.
there is so much life left. you are so young, no matter how old you are. there is so much you can do, so much you will do, so many achievements to be made, so many friends to meet, so many experiences you can learn from. you will get your happily ever after and you will make something beautiful out of your life because life is messy and imperfect and constantly growing and that is beauty.
please keep living, because there is so much to live for. even if you want to go back to that home of sadness you've built over the years, even if growth is messy and uncomfortable, even if things aren't going too great right now, even if it's not everything you thought it would be, you've survived your entire life with you helping you through it even if you've been alone.
you've picked yourself back up every. single. time. and are still making an active effort. that is extremely strong and you've done more than 90% of other people would do in your position and all the things you've been through. you've tried so hard and you should be so proud of yourself. and you should keep going for, because the life you're dreaming of is so close. please smile. please never give up. there is so much left to live for. i love you & you should do the same.
#girlblogging#girly tumblr#wonyoungism#self improvement#self concept#self image#mental health#mental illness#recovery#pink pilates princess#it girl#self care#lifestyle#dream girl#dream life#advice
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Hello!
🌟 here again! I'm here with another request for our lovely bodyguard yandere.
Have you ever seen videos of fans jumping up onto stages with kpop idols? Then get carried away by security behind stage?
I'd love to see how our lovely violent baby girl would react to not being able to react with immediate violence as a reaction given all the eyes and cameras on him. Would he be stone faced just carrying the stage crasher by the collar like a cat? Or would he be dragging him by the legs into hell?
The reactions of fans to the bodyguard would be interesting too, I could see Reader being jealous over people thirsting over bodyguard on Twitter or something lol. Or bodyguard confused on why people would say stuff like "he could snap my back like a twig and I'd say thank you" about him.
Hope you are taking care, and I have my fingers crossed to hear from you eventually
Sincerely
-🌟
Long overdue and I'm terribly sorry about that! I had the ideas for a while now, but I could never find the proper words to assemble everything. ;-;
Yandere! Bodyguard x Idol! Reader (III)
Your bodyguard has gained sudden Internet fame after dealing with a crazed fan on stage. Naturally, he couldn't care less about anyone else, but that doesn't stop you from trying to make him jealous in return. Someone will have to be the sacrificial lamb to his murderous possessiveness.
Content: female reader, obsessive behavior, violence, death, reader and yandere are both psycho
[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3]
The screen of your phone lights up again and you only need a quick glance to know what it is. Another post about last night’s event. About your bodyguard. You sink your nails into the leather chair and look ahead towards the mirror, exchanging a smile with the hairstylist.
“Oh, it looks lovely! You always do such a great job.” You compliment the woman as you tilt your head both ways, admiring the gentle curls. Now get the fuck out already.
“I’m so glad! Is there anything else you’d like me to-”
“No, that’s all. You can go”, you respond curtly.
The stylist collects her products and waves at you, exiting the room. The phone vibrates once more with a new notification, and you promptly throw it against the door. It scatters in large chunks of scrap across the plush carpet.
The whole ordeal happened within seconds. You were performing the final song of the evening when a fan hurled himself over the security barrier and onto the stage. The people standing at the very front began screaming and some took their phones out, scrambling for a good angle to record everything.
“Please, (Y/N), I’m your biggest fan!” the man pleaded, approaching you with shaking hands.
You froze in place, observing his actions with the same indifference of watching a TV ad that goes on for too long. Before the stranger could even reach your proximity, your bodyguard effortlessly and speedily threw him over the shoulder, giving you a reassuring nod and retreating backstage. He had that smile on his face that signaled he was pissed, and your mouth hung open in realization: You wouldn’t be able to witness the massacre.
You knew that expression all too well. That man would never see the light of day again, and under normal circumstances you would be right behind your bodyguard, cheering him on and suggesting ways to further torment of whoever dared to get too close to you.
And yet, your little ritual had been interrupted. You stood there on the stage, baffled, as the other idols gathered around you with worried looks. You poor thing. That must’ve been terrifying. The audience was shouting words of support, encouraging you to continue as if nothing happened. With pursed lips, you tightened your grip around the microphone and reassured everyone of your well-being. The show had to go on, regardless of your bloodlust.
This morning, you woke up to hundreds of posts online about the incident. Or rather, the way your bodyguard dealt with it. You scrolled through photos, videos, and confessions regarding the mysterious stranger who protected you from harm.
“I need a man like that in my life!”, “I know, right? So cool!”, “Imagine how easily he’d pick you up”, “The broad shoulders! I’m in love <3”
You don’t even have time to be properly upset about it. Your schedule for the day is packed with interviews and photoshoots. You glance in the mirror one final time and exit the room. The bodyguard has been waiting for you, resting against the wall with crossed arms.
“I need a new phone”, you tell him in a casual tone.
“What happened to the previous one?” He inquires, somewhat confused by your sudden request.
“Just do it!” You snap at the large man, rushing past him without providing any window for a reaction.
Ideally, you would very much like to tell him that the sudden influx of attention irritates you beyond comprehension. Then he’d reassure you that his indifference towards everyone else has not changed whatsoever, and thus your worries are entirely unfounded; but, if you need an outlet to release all that stress, he can easily find an empty changing room and service you like he always does.
Unfortunately, there is no time for that.
The bodyguard follows your movements with raised eyebrows, perplexed. What could’ve gotten you into such a sour mood? Has someone caused you to be upset? Are you still pouting after the missed playtime? He ponders the possibilities as he searches for an assistant.
The employee is visibly startled upon hearing his deep voice calling her. She turns obediently and nods, flashing her best customer-facing smile.
“Can you get (Y/N) a new phone?” he asks plainly.
“Huh? Sure…Did she specify any preferences? What was her previous model?”
He stares in confusion.
“…Can’t you guess?” she insists.
“I’m not good with these things.” The bodyguard rummages through his pocket and pulls out an old, cracked device to prove his point. “I don’t use phones much.”
Why would he? The only time he needs a phone is when he’s apart from you, which hasn’t happened since the Christmas incident. He previously considered a more modern option, so he could stalk your social media and make sure you don’t have any perverts sliding into your messages. That proved to be unnecessary, as you frequently leave your phone unattended or involve him in the process: most of your photos posted online nowadays are actually curated by his truly.
“Oh, so you don’t know about the recent craze?” The woman chuckles and takes out her own phone, speedily tapping on the screen before presenting it to the man. “See? You’re trending!”
He scans the multitude of messages. Ah, so that’s what it was. His lips curl into a grin. To think he’d witness his spoiled idol struggle with jealousy.
“That will be it for today!” the photographer announces, gesturing with his hands and guiding his helpers with the expensive equipment.
This was it, the last photoshoot. You unscrew the cap from your water bottle and take a healthy sip from it, wiping the sweat off your forehead with your other hand. The only good part about the continuous work was that you couldn’t check more of those annoying posts drooling over your bodyguard. Remembering it is enough to increase your heartbeat. The male model you were paired with for this campaign walks in your direction.
“Say, do you have anything planned after this?” He questions smugly. “You could come back to my place.”
What a ridiculous idea, you think with a grimace. Does this asshat think he’s worthy of your company? After a second of contemplation, you’re flooded with the same disappointment you felt back on the stage, watching your fan being carried away like a mere piece of cardboard over the much larger frame of your bodyguard. You might just consider the stupid offer. Why not? It’s not fair to be the only one plagued by jealousy.
“Sure. I know a better place, though.”
Your eyes narrow in a bright smile and you lead the young man towards your backstage room. As you pass by your bodyguard, you remember to mention in a low voice: “Make sure no one disturbs us.” He doesn’t answer, merely gazes at you with an empty expression.
“Man, that guy is scary as hell”, the model remarks as he throws himself in your vanity seat. “Are you not afraid to be alone with him?”
“Not really, no”, you respond idly. “You, on the other hand…”
“Excuse me?”
Now then. To set the scene, you gingerly climb into the man’s lap and adjust your arms around his neck. What a frail little human in comparison to your bodyguard. You blush in anticipation and begin counting in your head.
“H-hey, what did you mean-”
The young man is interrupted by someone’s abrupt intrusion. Your bodyguard throws you a quick glance before turning to close the door behind him. Alright, he can’t be too excited. He must pretend he’s furious, baffled, out for the hunt. You went all the way out for him. He even checked his watch to make sure you had enough time. He can’t let his enthusiasm betray him.
You jump out of the model’s hold with a gasp.
“It’s not what you think~!” you exclaim with feigned surprise. “He started flirting with me and I…” Your words trail off and you rub your arm nervously.
The bodyguard approaches the other man with monotonous movements and grabs him by the collar.
“Wait, you can’t possibly…he’s a well-known model!”, you protest with a fake cry.
Sweet little darling. Worry not, he won’t disappoint you. He’ll put on the best show for your sake. Anything to soothe your innocent heart.
“Could be the President himself”, your bodyguard confesses with a dash of theatrics, “and I’d still break his fucking neck for touching you.” He pulls out his pocketknife and looks at you. “I’ll deal with you in a moment, Miss.”
Your knees weaken and you have to rest against the vanity table. Among the screams and pleads for mercy coming from the poor butchered model, you can only focus on one thing: the violent fucking you’re about to receive.
Your bodyguard truly knows you best.
#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#yandere x you#yandere male x reader#yandere bodyguard#yandere imagine#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere oc#yandere oc x reader#yandere fic#yandere male#obsessive love#female reader
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Now with a part two!
There’s a guy that comes to the cafe Eddie’s working at. Every other day, he comes to the counter, smiles at Eddie and gives him a post-it with “hi, an americano with two sugars please :)” written on it. He has a different color of post-it assigned for every day. Eddie smiles back and makes the americano, trying to keep his heart from jumping out of his chest.
Needless to say, the guy is insanely cute. He has swoopy chestnut hair, droopy, almost puppy-like eyes, and two moles on his neck that make him look like he’s been bitten by a vampire. Eddie’s not sure if he finds it more adorable or sexy; either way, he’s definitely developed a crush. And now, after months of trying to gather up his courage to say hi, after months of pining and staring from afar... He’s still nowhere near ready to talk to him. And Chrissy’s not letting him live it down.
“You’re insufferable,” she whispers to him frantically when the guy comes through the door on the first Monday of December. “Do something more than smile dumbly or I’ll fire you.”
“You can’t fire me,” Eddie hisses back as he tries to dust pastry crumbs off of his shirt.
“I’m the manager. I can do whatever I want,” she chirps back and goes on to cleaning the machines that don’t need to be cleaned, because Eddie did that twenty minutes ago.
The guy comes to the counter. There are snowflakes in his hair, big and soft. Eddie thinks that they compliment his eyes—then he realizes that it’s a weird thing to notice about a stranger.
The stranger smiles. Eddie smiles back. Today’s post-it is light purple.
Eddie makes the americano. It’s muscle memory at this point, he’s not even thinking about what he’s doing until he has to force a lid onto the cup and serve it to his customer. Hell, whatever. He grabs a sharpie and bends down to drabble something on the cup, trying not to spill the coffee. He manages to draw an ugly looking snake that was supposed to be a dragon, cringes, writes “Have a nice day!” underneath it and prays that it isn’t too weird.
Of course it is. But, miraculously, the guy looks at it, huffs a tiny laugh and smiles right at Eddie and – yeah, whatever, curse him – the whole room lights up. Yes, it’s sappy. Sue him. He could be sappy for this guy—if the guy wanted it.
He takes his coffee and leaves, but before he crosses the threshold, he turns back and waves at Eddie, using only three fingers. It’s a small wave, but a wave nonetheless, so Eddie sends him his best grin and waves back.
When he’s finally out, Eddie bends over the counter and groans. Chrissy pats him between the shoulderblades, mocking sympathy. “You’re on probation,” she whispers. Eddie groans once again. This is hell.
***
He has to call in sick on Wednesday. Now that he’s thinking about it, he kind of knew that the mayo smelled funny and it wasn’t good anymore. But he’s a broke college student and he had a choice: stale bread with mayo and a slice of tomato, or just stale bread with a slice of tomato. These weren’t even real choices. It was suffering or suffering.
Apparently, he’d chosen double suffering, and he had a whole night of hurling to prove it. Good thing he doesn’t have to send Chrissy any photos of what he had to deal with – when he calls, she cuts him off with “Just take my afternoon shift tomorrow and we’re even. You’ll miss out on your cutie, it’s a punishment in and of itself,” and goes on with her day.
Eddie’s so grateful for Chrissy. He wouldn’t get anywhere without her.
***
Eddie doesn’t expect his guy to come on Thursday, it isn’t his regular schedule, so he’s in for a surprise when his morning shift ends and turns into Chrissy’s afternoon shift, and then, some time later, his guy comes in—and he’s not alone.
He’s with a girl. With a pretty, pretty girl, who has beautifully curly brown hair, inquisitive eyes and kind but determined expression on her face. There’s something quite unique about her; Eddie thinks, briefly, that she looks like she’s from another era. Like if they were living in the 80s, she would have a perm, wear bold lipstick and have a whole wall of degrees and certificates in her office. She seems to be destined for great things. She’s a badass.
Eddie’s nothing like her. He tries to swallow down the jealousy as they near the counter. His – his? – guy looks surprised, but smiles either way, his eyes lighting up in a matter of seconds.
“Hi,” the girl says. Her own smile is so nice and warm Eddie can’t stay mopey for too long. “I’ll have a latte with two shots of espresso, and…”
She turns to the guy beside her, but Eddie doesn’t have to know the answer. “An americano with two sugars. On it.”
Their eyes lock for a second. The guy seems a bit shy, but he’s still smiling. Eddie counts that as a win. But he’s still quick with their coffees. He can sense the staring contest they’re having even while he has his back turned to them. He kinda wants them gone, but they didn’t ask for to go, so he just tries to stay calm. Focused. Sharp.
Fortunately, he doesn’t spill anything. They get their order and sit in a corner. It doesn’t look like a date, they pull out books and notes, scribble and sign from time to time. The girl clearly knows more than just the basics of ASL, unlike Eddie. Since the guy started showing up, he’s been trying to learn more about it, but now he makes a mental note to enroll on a course. It’s time to commit – to what, exactly, he’s not sure. But he’s gonna make it happen.
Hours pass, but they stay in the same position. Eddie steals a glance every now and then, trying not to let his jealousy get to the surface again, but it’s hard. The guy is cute, the girl is smart and beautiful. He decides to call Chrissy on his way home – if he has to pine, she’ll suffer with him.
The end of his shift is nearing when he hears a giggle from the godforsaken corner. He looks up from the cups he’s been rearranging and sees that it’s his guy’s girl who’s laughing. She’s laughing at yet another girl, who’s standing outside and drawing hearts on the dirty window. She has a goofy grin on her face, one that makes her eyes and her prominent cheekbones pop even more, and it’s the same grin that the girl inside is wearing at the moment.
Now, Eddie doesn’t know a lot about love, but he definitely recognizes heart eyes when he sees them. He smiles to himself – don’t judge a book by its cover, huh?
His guy looks exasperated about being completely ignored, so he taps the glass a few times. The girl outside looks at him, shocked, like she’s only just seen him now, sticks out her tongue at him, and goes back to blowing kisses at her girlfriend. The guy looks truly wounded. Eddie snorts; the dynamic here is immaculate.
In the meantime, the not-his-guy's girl has gathered her things and prepared to leave. She kisses his cheek on her way out, but the guy stays put, bending over his papers again. Eddie thinks it’s quite interesting. Then, he makes a plan.
When he’s done with work, his guy is still there. Which is perfect. Eddie fixes his hair one last time, trying to gauge whether his outfit is metal enough (it is) for the occasion, and grabs the americano with two sugars he’s made.
It’s alright. Everything’s alright.
His wildly beating heart isn’t so sure about that.
When he gets to his guy’s table, he sets the piece of paper on it first. “Looks like you’re swamped – it’s on the house,” it says. The guy looks up, surprised, his mouth opened in a tiny oh. His eyes go wide for a moment and then he smiles. Something warm settles inside Eddie’s chest.
The guy picks up a pen and writes “Thank you!!!” on Eddie’s piece of paper, but before giving it back, he changes his mind. “I’m Steve,” he scribbles, and then gives it back with a flash of smile.
He smiles a lot. It’s an amazing sight.
“Hello, Steve. I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you,” Eddie replies. “What are you working on?” he adds after a second, because he’s feeling bold and he really doesn’t want to go yet.
The guy – Steve – sighs. He makes some room on the loveseat he’s occupying and pushes his books to the middle. Eddie takes it as a cue to sit down. Their knees bump, Eddie gets goosebumps, but he doesn’t move away. Neither does Steve.
“I’ve got an assignment on modern fantasy and its mythological origins, but I’m not as nerdy as my friends so I’m struggling a bit. Nance helped, but she’s not an expert either and my other nerdy friends went for a trip. Maybe you have any experience?”
Eddie’s eyes open wide and he bounces with excitement, nodding his head along the way. “YES,” he writes, all caps, and Steve huffs another laugh. They look at each other then, Eddie all hyped and ready, Steve—soft? There’s no other way to describe it. His gaze is gentle, almost caring. Eddie can feel his cheeks warm up.
His phone buzzes aggressively in his pocket. He checks it – it’s Chrissy. She’s got her period and she’s out of tampons.
“Shit,” he mumbles. Steve bumps their shoulders.
“What’s up?” he asks.
Eddie picks up the pen. “Tiny emergency, I’m sorry. Tomorrow?”
He knows that his hopeful stare must seem desperate, but Steve reads his reply, looks up and smiles, nodding. Eddie wants to scream victory, but he only nods back and gets up instead. When he’s about to turn and leave, he feels fingers wrap around his hand, delicate but firm. Slowly, Steve opens up his hand and writes something on it.
It’s a phone number. “In case you get sick again :)”
Eddie can’t hold back his dopey smile any longer. When he looks at Steve, the corners of his lips quirk up too. He’s lovely.
Eddie can’t wait for tomorrow.
#steve harrignton#eddie munson#nancy wheeler#robin buckley#chrissy cunningham#steddie#ronance#fic#stranger things#st4#coffeshop au#hoh steve harrington#my beloved#i'm sure it's been done#but i haven't seen it so here's my version#it's probably the first time without any angst in a fic i've written in my life#fluff#and nothing else#modern au#is it even a fic? it's tiny#anyway i just love the pookies. let them be soft and mushy they can suffer later
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Little Black Dress
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Pairing | Neil Lewis x reader
Summary | Neil stands behind a stranger in a crowded subway car.
Warnings | Smut, non con, 18+, sexual content, non consensual everything lol, Neil being a creep, reader is unaware, public masturbation, a lil misogyny.
Words | 1.5 k
Notes | The amount of fic ideas that I’ve gotten from watching porn is… too many💀 Also I wrote this in one day so I’m sorry if it’s bad🫣
Ao3 link | <3
Masterlist
You stood in front of him, so close that he could smell your hair. His gaze trailed down your body, eyeing your exposed arms and the swell of your ass beneath the tight dress you wore. And then down your long legs, leading to your strappy heels. You must be going out. He lifted himself up on his toes a little bit and leaned forward the slightest amount— he was already much taller than you so it didn’t take that much effort. He had to bite his lip to stifle the groan that almost escaped when he saw your tits. The dress you wore flattered them nicely… as in.. they were almost spilling out of it.
He leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to get a grip. He could already feel his cock fattening up in his pants. When the subway turned, you stumbled into him a little, your ass pushing into his crotch.
“Sorry.” You said sheepishly, turning around to give him an apologetic smile as you stepped away from him again.
Fuck— your face. You were wearing makeup, but not the trashy kind that makes women look worse. This just complimented your features in a subtle but pretty way. And your lips… His cock throbbed at the thought of them wrapped around his length.
“No worries..” He chuckled awkwardly, no doubt blushing by now.
His breathing picked up and when he looked down, the tent in his pants was obvious. He was just glad he was hidden behind you. Reaching down, he tried to subtly adjust himself, but all that did was give him a taste of the stimulation he could have, making him even harder.
He cleared his throat and looked around, trying to see if anyone was watching, but everyone was either on their phone or engaged in conversation. So he hesitantly took a step forward until his cock just barely brushed your ass. It wasn’t enough pressure for you to notice it, but it was enough to make his lips part in a silent moan as his brows scrunched together. He moved his hips side to side a little, just barely touching your ass, trying to get a little more stimulation.
He wanted to grab it. He wanted to turn you around, take your ass in both hands, and roughly grope you, pulling you into him as he rutted against your clothed heat. But he knew he couldn’t. So he settled for this.
For a while, he kept teasing himself with barely there touches. But then the subway stopped and the doors opened and more people were flooding in, pushing you back into him even more. He could smell your perfume now too.
You cleared your throat and tried to step forward once you noticed how close you were, but there wasn’t anywhere for you to go. You were close enough that he could feel your body heat through his clothes and he could see over your shoulders without needing to raise himself up. He stared at your tits from above as he breathed heavily, trying to control himself and not buck his hips forward. He had to be subtle about this or it would end far too soon.
Suddenly struck with an idea, he grabbed his wallet from his pocket and “accidentally” dropped it so that it landed in front of you.
“Excuse me?” He rasped, voice thick with arousal. He cleared his throat and you turned your head a little to look at him. “I dropped my wallet. Could you grab it for me please? It’s just right there.” He pointed to the floor in front of you and you gave him a small smile.
“Sure.” You leaned down to pick it up and his mouth fell open when your ass pushed into his crotch because of the tight proximity. He wanted to grab your hips and grind his cock against you with abandon. With you bent over like this, he could just barely see the lace panties you were wearing under the skimpy dress. The train jerked and he used the opportunity to buck his hips forward, making you almost lose your balance. You leaned back up— far too soon— and let out a heavy breath of exertion as you handed it to him.
“Here you go.” He took it with a shaky hand and gave you a shy smile.
“Thanks.” He noticed that because of you leaning down, gravity made your tits fall up, causing them to spill out of your dress even more once you stood again. He pocketed his wallet then took out his phone and “accidentally” dropped it at his feet. “Such a klutz today.” He chuckled, trying not to sound suspicious as he squatted down to pick it up, but you didn’t even notice that he said anything.
He stayed down there and pretended to tie his shoe as he looked up your dress, getting a better view of your panties. He wanted to know what you smelled like— what you tasted like. Feeling bold, he slowly moved closer, being sure not to breathe on your leg so you stayed unaware. Once his nose was brushing your dress, he moved a tiny bit closer, then inhaled deeply, trying not to moan out loud at your scent. He didn’t want to push his luck, so he moved back and stood up again, palming his bulge.
Keeping his phone out, he opened the camera and took a few pictures from his point of view, showing the curve of your ass. Then he moved the phone down and pointed it under your dress, taking a few more. He hesitated for this, but looked around to make sure no one was watching, then quickly brought his phone up to his eyeline to get a picture of your tits. He lowered it quickly and looked around again, breathing a silent sigh of relief when he saw that he hadn’t been caught.
He looked through the pictures, his hand moving more purposefully over his bulge now. They were perfect. He took a few more under your dress, wanting to get as many angles as possible. When he cursed under his breath, you turned over your shoulder to look at him.
“Did you say something?”
“No— no sorry.” He cleared his throat again, giving you a reassuring smile, and you turned back around. He was practically jerking himself off through his clothes now, getting more and more desperate, but he paused when he got another idea.
Releasing his cock, he stepped closer again until it was brushing your ass, then took a few more pictures. Once he was satisfied, he quickly resumed fisting his cock, getting closer to his orgasm.
He wanted to come on your tits, maybe even on your face or your panties. He wanted you covered in his seed— marked… owned. Plus, you’d look so pretty wearing his own personal pearl necklace. He could feel himself getting closer just thinking about it.
He wanted to turn you around and shove you to your knees so that he could hold your head still and hump your face instead. Forcing you to smell his musk, feel his hardness. It was your fault anyway. He wouldn’t be doing this if you didn’t push your barely clothed ass on his cock and get him hard. He wouldn’t be doing this if your tits weren’t out.
If you actually wore shorts under your dress, he wouldn’t have had to take pictures. Why else would you wear such skimpy, lacy panties if you didn’t want him to do that?
His breathing was growing more and more ragged as he got closer to his release. He looked through the pictures of your panties, focusing on your mound under the see through fabric. He wanted to see what your bare pussy looked like. Were you wet? Would you get even wetter if you knew what he was doing? Your clit probably gets so red and swollen when you’re all needy.
He imagined what your cunt would look like when he was done with it. Probably red and puffy, your hole gaping as his come slowly trickled out of it…
He could barely even finish the thought before he quickly freed his cock and started properly jerking himself off, closing his eyes and letting his head drop down as he finally came. White ropes of come covered your black dress and anyone who saw it would know exactly what it was. He stroked himself until his orgasm was finally finished, then cleared his throat and looked around again— people’s lack of situational awareness almost amazed him.
Lifting his phone, he took a few pictures of him rubbing the last bead of come from the tip onto your ass, then tucked himself away. He took more pictures of your ass, getting different angles and trying not to groan when it started dripping down the fabric. He pocketed his phone, then let out a heavy sigh.
Before he even had the chance to consider doing more, the subway was stopping again and you were walking out the doors. He watched your come covered ass sway with each step and felt his cock twitch at the sight. But his enjoyment was cut short by the doors closing and the subway continuing on.
Part 2
Taglist (join here)
@pedrisgatorade @lunyyx @faebirdie @idkdudsworld @nashja @rentaldarling @cillianscrybaby @vivvive @ceruleanrainblues @mrkdvidal1989 @brooklynscherry-z @ohmysatansstuff @aviamulier @d1lf-loverthinqs @butlersluvbot @miyababby @n1ghtw1ngslver @mandowhatnow @baekhyunstruly @nashja @xxorazz @halleysc6met @crunchsworld @cillianscrybaby @babaohhhriley @deceitfuldevout @gentyleman @lorelais-world @shroombloom-rry @pinguwrites @thatonesinglefriend @bernelflo @madeinuk
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how the cod characters would answer their partners unwanted direct messages
You sat on the couch next to your partner when you scrolled through your DMs. After looking up the posts your friends sent you, you looked at the messages from profiles you weren’t following. You wouldn’t respond but nevertheless loved reading through them. It ranged from innocent compliments to downright filthy requests to send theses strangers pictures of yourself. When you laughed at these texts your partner looked over to you “What’s so funny?” - “Look.” You say, hand over your phone and let them answer your DMs.
Simon
Rates the profiles of the people that hit on you
“He’s too short for you, anyway.”
Reads a lot of your DM’s aloud because he knows it makes you cringe
Also tries to remember some of the pick up lines you get send to use it later on you
“I don’t know which is prettier today—the weather, or your eyes.” “Are you a light switch? Because you turn me on.” “I’d say, ‘God bless you,’ but it looks like he already did.” WITH THE SMUGGEST SMILE ON HIS FACE
Also answers profiles that keep texting you “she’s not interested.”
If the guy still keeps pressing Simon would offer to solve it like men and sends him an address and time, he fully knows the guy won’t show up
Soap
Someone sent you a dick pic
Johnny laughs at the picture
“Cute” he says and excuses himself to the bathroom if he’s feeling generous (if not he’ll pull his pants down right in front of you to snap a pic)
Sends a snap back without any text
Ends up traumatising the guy and you get blocked in a matter of seconds
Saves the picture in your gallery in case another guy pulls the same stunt
Gaz
Kinda feels insulted when the people who DM‘d you are ugly
“Smash.”
“He’s a good looking fella, right?” He says and it’s not even a trap
Starts flirting with them on your behalf to make you seem like a lunatic
Asks them a lot of astrological questions and very ridiculous ones at that and sees how far they are willing to go
Very disgusted at some requests you get and sometimes answers with “that’s not a way to speak to a woman”
Price
Sees all of them as losers
In his mind dating should never start online
Just deletes all DMs you get send before you even see them
Every time though he sees a 10/10 he deletes the message from that person and gets you flowers the next day
Has a hard time not policing your instagram posts but just from a safety standpoint
Alex
Might send a selfie back with an additional “sorry bud”
Somehow becomes friends with that stranger over your DMs
Might get invited to the wedding because he’d find that funny and makes him hold a unofficial speech
Farah
Gets so worked up over this
You literally try to get your phone back to calm her down but she won’t give it back
Kinda starts an argument about it and a pretty big one unfortunately
Makes you turn your profile to private
Valeria
Just texts them “stay away”
If they keep texting she’ll find their addresses 😭
Literally sends death threats via mail
While you’re just happily saying “they stopped harassing me! :) how did you do that?” - “they won’t bother you again :)” - 😟
Otherwise your biggest cheerleader on your social medias
Alejandro
Gets overly protective
Close to start a fight over text
Is blocking people left and right
Accidentally also blocks a few of your friends out of impulsiveness and they end up hating him
Rudy
“Sorry she’s in a relationship but I’ll let her know :)” after you got a compliment
Very respectful about rejecting dudes no matter how ridiculous they were
Keegan
You got a “Are you looking for a sugar daddy?” DM
Has watched these scammer videos and now wants to try it for himself
Gets into a whole relationship with this scammer
Lowkey becomes his new hobby to message that guy over the next weeks
He talks to you what to say next
Uses a ridiculously high pitched voice while typing
Starts stealing your phone for that
One day comes running to you announcing that you’re he’s getting married
A/N: since this post is still popping off do any of you have travel tips for Scotland? 🫶
#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#kyle gaz garrick#gaz x reader#captain john price#price x reader#john soap mactavish#soap x reader#keegan p russ#keegan x reader#valeria el sin nombre garza#Valeria garza#farah x reader#farah karim#alex keller#rudolfo parra#alejandro vargas#alejandro x reader
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Sub!scara getting jealous of the interaction's between reader and dottore, so he flirts with one of the guest. Only to end up punished and overstimulated at the end of the night.
please and thank you. Take care and have a nice day, night, or afternoon. See you next ask♡
♡︎ 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙡𝙚 𝙗𝙞𝙩 𝙟𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙮 ♡︎
characters: sub!scaramouche x gn!dom!reader
warnings: overstimulation, degrading, dacryphillia, breeding, orgasm denial
notes: i had to rely on my maladaptive daydreaming for this one. takes place after scaramouche’s defeat era but reader and scara came across dottore during a sumeru festival.
i’m so sorry i took soo long😭😭 see you at the next ask and please come again by the cafe!
ever since the defeat of scaramouche from his false godhood and the therapy sessions with nahida and the aranaras, he’s mentality has been getting better and better. not all of his trauma is healed yet but hey he’s working on it!
and it seems like the people of sumeru has held another grand festival in the name of the lesser lord kusanali. of course a festival is nothing if it doesn’t invite everyone who wants to join of course. however not everyone is an exactly a welcome guests. that includes dottore, the 2nd of the fatui harbingers.
don’t get me wrong, just because a guest isn’t a welcome one doesn’t mean they would be shoo-d out. but your sweet boyfriend didn’t like it. not at all. seeing dottore casually talking to you with a carefree, lopsided smile while he has to stand back and try not to march over where you two are and make out with you was hard. so hard to the point he accidentally put out the lanterns around him with his newfound anemo power.
and there dottore was. chatting with you as if you two were old friends, reunited after years of not seeing each other. throwing a snide remark about how your loving darling was a failure, how he can be a better boyfriend for you and how he was even better than him in all ways while you tried your hardest not to break his jaw.
the last straw for your darling was the doctor leaning against you like you two were lovers and whispering in your ears. that’s it. he’s had enough.
pulling a random citizen close by their waist, scaramouche started to flirt with them. compliment after compliment, flirty remark after one another, it even seemed like the fool was falling for his trick.
looking sideways for your lover’s help only to see him throwing flirtatious remarks with some fool, something in you snapped. first was dottore and now this? that’s it, you’ve had it. pushing the blue haired man away from yourself and striding over to where your lover is with a fuzzy mind, everyone around you backed away.
“so, what do you say if we meet up more oft-hey! let go of me you-?!” when scara was suddenly pulled away and collided with a broad chest, he knew he fucked up big time. looking up at you with a wide eyes and a shuddered breath, the dark look in your eyes made him shiver. was it anticipation? fear? excitement? he didn’t know. but frankly he didn’t care since he finally have your attention on him now! and only him alone.
“forgive us but a sudden work has popped up for me and my lover” sending a sweet smile towards the stranger, you quickly walked back home with your lover struggling to catch up with you.
as soon as the door to your small shared home is closed, scaramouche found himself trapped against the wall in a hungry kiss. he didn’t mind it, this was his plan after all. moaning into the kiss and grinding his ass on your legs, your short lover was starting to grow restless. why weren’t you touching him already?!
it seemed like his wish will be granted for soon he soon found himself thrown into the bed harshly. anticipating your next moves with lust drumming in his veins, scaramouche looked up at you with a cloudy purple eyes.
—
“aanngh-gyah! c-cumming! cummingcummingcum-!” scaramouche helplessly whined and sobbed as you kept fucking him stupid. but just as he was about to reach his peak you pulled out again, leaving his hole feeling empty and hips twitching.
“NO! nonononono! p-put it back! [name]~ put it ba-ackk! please!” more tears fell down his face for the pleasure you denied him of. sticking out his stretched, gaping hole and wiggling his ass for you, he hoped it would be enough to lure you back in. you’ve been denying his orgasm for hours and it fucking hurt.
“sniff… please? p-please? hic i-i won’t do it again…” seems like your precious boy has completely gave up. sniffling and praying to any archons, scaramouche wailed and trashed around when your thick length entered his hole again. a mess of desperate “please” and “i’ll be good”-s tumbled out of his mouth. well, you were mean to him for long enough, you supposed.
“cum for me love” letting out a loud wail and blabbering “thank you”-s, scaramouche came all over the sheets, hands scrambling to hold anything. some even squirted on his tummy. laying flat on his stomach as his legs had finally gave out, your sweet boy tried to catch his breath. but you aren’t done with him yet.
“haah haah [n-naME]?! S-SHTOP! WHA-WHAT AANGGGH♡︎♡︎!!”
“shh, it’s okay baby boy. you did some stupid shit today so you have to learn how to pay for it. or else you’ll never learn” kissing his shoulder, you ignored his incoherent sobs for you to stop and continued to thrust into his sloppy hole.
“i’ll just make you dumber and dumber scara. until the only thing you can scream is my name”. that night was filled with scaramouche wailing and sobbing your name, begging for forgiveness.
#nobu.writes#sub!genshin impact#sub!genshin#sub genshin impact#sub genshin#sub scaramouche#sub!scaramouche#genshin x reader smut#genshin smut#scaramouche smut#x dom reader#dom!reader
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the forgotten letter
pairing: tara carpenter x fem reader
a/n- ahh guys it's finally here! probably one of the longest word count story i've done with around 6k words, but yes! for the people who voted on my poll, i did both angst and happy ending<3. i hope you enjoy!
thank you for 100 followers, i guess this is a special!
-
You think you loved Tara for as long as you could remember.
Well, years later, you think you loved her ever since you laid eyes on her, if you knew what love meant.
It was like a click, a connection, the kind of love you didn't even know was real out of movies.
But it was, it all was when you met Tara.
You had met her in second grade, well, you could say a year after. How could you forget that every day, you were on the swings, and the only reason was to be able to see Tara eating at the same table with her lunch box without being caught staring. You always looked at the sky when she turned, sometimes you would make eye contact and she'd give you the sweetest smile that made you kick your feet and giggle till you fell asleep with a smile on your face two nights in a row.
You were always a shy soul when it came to making conversations with strangers, especially someone as beautiful as Tara, with her wavy, long hair that seemed to always be perfect. A little messy? You wouldn't dare to say that, one small messy hair is like realizing how it complimented the girl you thought was perfect enough. Her dark brown eyes seemed to have stars in them, you loved stars.
The first time you made an interaction, it was the same procedure, lunch-time bell rings, your classmates squeal, you all run out, and you make your way to the second swing that was next to the lunch tables. Then you'd wait and wait, till you saw her, then you'd swing, even though you weren't very good, you only got a foot high at most times.
Usually, when you would swing, your friends would be there, but when you told them about Tara, and how you said, "I think she's very very very pretty." They all laughed, saying "ewwwwww.." They kind of left you by yourself on the swings from then forward.
You were sad, but that didn't stop you from always looking at her.
Tara noticed, you were staring at your feet, swinging lowly and she felt bad, she didn't like strangers, but she always saw you, it was like you were friends. So she abandoned her lunch box and walked over to you.
"Hi.. Do you want me to help swing you? My sissy Sam taught me some ways so you could swing higher! I can push you if you want!"
You looked up at her mouth open as they quickly turned into a wide smile, Tara thought it was cute.
"Yes please! I-I don't know how to swing very high.."
She giggled, shaking her head as she approached closer behind you, where the handles were, "I know, every day you are here and every time, I see you swing and swing! But your friends.. They aren't here. Are they absent?"
You shook your head, a little pout showing, "No.. They.." You didn't know what to say, and as much as you wanted to lie.. You couldn't to this girl that made you smile. "I come here and see you every day, and I always want to talk to you, but I feel weird and not comfy when I try talking to people I don't know very well. My mommy says it's called being shy. I think you are very pretty. My friends don't like when people say that. They say it's yucky. So now I'm a little lonely."
Tara looked surprised, but it quickly turned into a small smile, tilting her head, "You think I'm pretty?"
You nod your head up and down, "I think you are very pretty, I see these stars in your eyes that no one else has, I think it's cool."
She smiles, happily, "I think you're very pretty too! Wow! I never been called pretty! Thank you! Wow!"
You turn to her and give her a smile you never knew existed, it looked so happy, "Thank you!"
"My name is Tara by the way. Tara Carpenter!"
"I'm Y/N! Y/N Y/L/N! That name fits you.. Tara.. I don't think I'll remember that.." (That was a lie, you memorized it by the time you got home and asked your mom to write it on your notebook..) "I think I'll have to call you a shorter name.. Like.. Cheese!"
She makes a small grimace, but it looked so cute, "Cheese? You're funny!"
You both giggled as you give her a cheeky grin, "I think we'll be really good friends."
"Me too," She says with a soft voice, pushing you on the swings, higher than you could ever imagine. You could see the clouds and felt like you could touch them, but most of all, you could see her name in the sky.
"Tara Carpenter," You whispered to yourself with a squeal as Tara pushed you higher.
- -
In 6th grade, your parents had a big fight that made your eyes go wide, making you hide under your bed as you clawed at your ears, silently sobbing. Sure they fought and it could be bad, but this one was different, it was worse, screaming, crying, your walls shaking and random things being thrown. You found out that they got divorced.
Then at that night, you grabbed your phone and opened your window with tears in your eyes, going to Tara's house, running as fast as you could move.
You climbed up the ladder that Tara had shown you and crawled to her room on top of the house, knocking quietly on her window, sniffling.
A long moment later, you could see her shadow as she opened it, rubbing her eyes as she looked at you, "Y/N?"
Then, she looked up at your face, the only light was from her lamp and the moonlight, finally seeing your tear stained cheeks and crying eyes.
"You're crying," She says, concern flooding through her features as she pulled you inside and onto her bed.
She sat next to you as you stared at her stuffed animal.
"Not too much.." You murmur, tears daring to fall down again.
"Why?"
Should you tell her something that has been going on for almost your whole life?..
"My parents fought today.. Oh Tara.. It was terrifying.. There was screaming, crying, I heard so many things being thrown and I tried everything.. It just w-wouldn't stop.. They.. I.. They..." You sniffle, your mouth opening to let out soft cries, she knew what happened, your mom and dad weren't together anymore.
Something in Tara broke, she couldn't see you cry. Seeing you cry made her eyes water, especially someone like you.
She wrapped her arms around you and pulled you closer, making you sob against her chest, rubbing circles behind your back, something she learned in the past.
"It's all going to be okay. I'm here. I won't ever leave you."
Your lip trembles, looking up at her, "Do you really promise?"
She can see it in your eyes, fear. You don't want her to leave you.
"I promise."
You nod against her chest, turning away from her so your back is facing her stomach as she hugs you.
A moment passes before you turn to her again, she could see something swimming underneath those eyes, uncertainty.
"Do you really promise? Y-You're all I have."
Tara can feel her heart squeeze as she nods, nuzzling your nose. "I really promise."
You nod, "I trust you. I always trust you." You whisper, sniffling as you hug her, your nose buried against her chest as you cry, cries turning more muffled as she can sense your beginning to fall asleep. You never heard, but as you slept, she kissed your forehead quickly, whispering a small, "Love you."
- -
When Tara was 15, her parents divorced like yours, and both her dad and sister left her. She didn't know what she felt.
She was upset, she cried in her bed for months..
But then, she felt angry. Angry at her dad, her sister, at the world.
It was a turn of events for her and it caused her to shut everyone out. Everyone.
Including you.
She didn't want to take any anger out on you, she would never be angry you. But she always felt like if she talked to someone she cared deeply about, like you, she would snap.
But she never thought abandoning you would hurt you as much as she thought.
At first, it was when she saw you in the halls, and you saw her, but as soon as she met your eyes, she would turn a corner, seeing your waving hand fall limp to your sides. She felt bad. But it would get easier, and it did.. But she always felt that small feeling of guilt eating at her.
It happened multiple times, but you thought she just couldn't see you.
Then it was in the classes you shared when she wouldn't talk to you.
You usually would talk to her, but whenever she wouldn't talk to you first, you would think she's busy.
But she never turned to you with a joke, a conversation, not even a glance when you saw.
You sat alone at lunch, you sat alone at dinner too, maybe be greeted with your dad if he was drinking.
No more good morning, goodnight, or any texts from Tara.
You tried approaching her, but every time you'd lock eyes, she'd give you this stare that made your gut twist and walk the other way.
You couldn't help but cry, you felt betrayed, everything was crumbling. You had lost the one person that you cared so so deeply about, the person you desperately wanted to be by your side for the rest of your life.
It was hard to get any sleep, because most of the time, you'd be staring at the ceiling, waiting for a goodnight text that would never come. The goodnight text that let you fall asleep as quickly as you shut your eyes.
And you thought that it was because of you, she didn't want to see you ever again.
You cried, every single night till you passed out from exhaustion.
Little did Tara know, that there was a letter on the side of your desk, the fresh ink marking it's words on the paper beginning to see the seasons change, beginning to grow as time went on.
The letter you were going to give Tara confessing your love.
The letter that you spent day and night on.
The letter that was now untouched for months, left on the side of your desk.
The letter, filled with your words of adoration, never being able to experience a reaction, because you never gave to her.
You felt numb, you didn't know what to feel, but you felt abandoned, it hurt so much, it hurt harder than a piercing knife in the heart.
Tara noticed you began to avoid her, began to finally accept it.
You never truly accepted it, you would say you just lost hope, 3 years had passed so quickly.
In class, when she'd turn to you, you never turned back.
When she would sit at the spot you both sat at, she would see your shadow sitting on the chair, untouched and cold.
Sometimes she'd see you at the park, just sitting on a picnic towel and writing in your journal.
Under the tree you both would always sit,
Never having the guts to approach you.
She would say you seemed peaceful, but you weren't. Because whenever she saw your face, it's like your sweet persona was gone and faded, the vibrant colors you used to have was long gone.
Replaced with eyebags, tired eyes, and hair that was always covered by headphones or a hoodie.
Tara never knew why her leaving you left a big mark on your heart, you two were just friends. Right?
She tried to stop thinking about why, but she couldn't help it, you popped up in her head on nights she couldn't go to bed so easily.
- -
Tara was looking at the stars one night, just staring, the moonlight glistening on her cheeks.
She thought of you. She thought back to second grade, words that were ages ago. She could hear your tiny voice.
"I see these stars in your eyes that no one else has, I think it's cool."
She then realized she made a huge mistake, why didn't she think of it before?
Her leaving you was like you being abandoned again, she left you in the dark when she said she would never abandon you. But she left just like your parents.. She left just like how her parents did..
She promised that night you had ran to her. She promised that she would never leave you, and you weren't the person who trusted people often.
But you trusted her. You knew that she wouldn't leave you.
You thought she wouldn't leave you.
She was the first person you thought of when you were afraid, because she was really all you had.
"Do you really promise? Y-You're all I have."
She remembers those words she said that night, her voice running around her mind, saying the words, "I promise."
She remembers you telling her your parents divorced, she remembers you telling her that when you were with your mom, she was never home, you never had a holiday to spend with your family. Most days alone, and when you met Tara, she always let you come for the holidays.
She was all you had, and you were faithful in what she told you. But she abandoned you, just like everybody in your life had did. She had did something she never wanted to be in the first place. She was so mad that she was left by her family, even when her mom was still with her, that she didn't realize that she did the one thing she wanted so badly not to be.
Abandoned, you were abandoned when she was all you had.
She knew she had to do what was right, she thought distancing herself would work. But it made you worse. She had to fix it.
- -
You were sitting at the park, same place, with your journal, your tote bag in the other, listening to god knows what.
(You were listening to "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron..)
Tara was going to finally approach you.
Something in her gut told her something was wrong, something was going to be wrong. But she sighed, just brushing it off and thinking that it would be you possibly never forgiving her.
She sat next to you, making your head turn from the small thump next to you.
Your eyes were shocked, mouth agape, whispering the only word she could make up.
"Tara.."
She bit her lip, but instead of smiling at her, you didn't say anything, looking at her with a small scowl and turned your head back to your journal, exhaling an angry huff.
She frowned, looking at you, reaching for your shoulder.
"Look.. Y/N-"
"-Save it Tara." You snapped, making her flinch.
"Y/N, please."
You make a long sigh, turning to her. "Tara I really don't have time for this. You shouldn't be being here right now. You can't be here today! You shouldn't be!"
She looked confused but she kept going, "Look I-I'm sorry. For leaving you."
You turned to her again, at this point she could read your gaze, you were angry, you were upset, most of all behind those eyes, you were hurt.
"You can't just leave me for 3 years and come back to apologize thinking I'll forgive you just like that! You're out of my life for so long and come back like nothing has happened."
She exhaled, "Let me just speak! I-I've learned from then and I'm trying to apologize!"
You stopped her, "I don't want you apologizing for this damage that has caused my life to crumble and has already been dealt with.."
She interrupted you, "I know! But I was dealing with so much! M-my parents divorced and I thought letting you go would be best.. Please, I'm trying! Can't we just go back to what we had and forget what has happened?"
You were hurt, tears brimming at your eyes, "You don't understand! Are you forgetting that you left me? YOU left me Tara! And you didn't bother to even tell me or apologize when you left. I was depressed okay? And it was because of you! Every single damn day for three years I was never able to sleep properly because I would think that you would finally text me one night and wish me a goodnight! You were all I had! When my parents divorced I didn't leave you!"
At this point, when your mouth opened, soft cries were being heard, "You were all I had.." You repeat, sniffling, "You promised me you wouldn't leave and that's just what you did."
She felt bad, the walls you put up to get away from her were all falling apart, she saw the little girl that she knew once before. The little girl she saw that night your parents divorced when they both left you. She felt all this guilt that has built up when she ignored you beginning to swarm in her chest, she felt horrible.
"I'm sorry. I don't even know who I was.." She whispered, looking at your shaking figure.
You turned to her, your tears flowing down, like the three years to stop them wasn't enough.
"Tara just s-stop! I-I'm just getting over you after this long and I can't have you here again. N-not today."
She looked at you, aghast, eyes wide, "What?"
You cover your face, hands sliding down to stop, "Yes Tara! I loved you! I fucking loved you and the day I was going to tell you, you left! YOU left me!" You screamed, angry, betrayed, sentence ending with a cry.
She was stunned. You loved her.. You loved Tara. And she thought that when she loved you, pushing you away could make her forget her feelings, making sure you were safe, but she caused this.
You didn't wait for her to respond, shuffling through your tote bag and grabbing up a crumpled piece of paper, slamming it in her hand before you got up and left, the gush of wind hitting her hair as she stared at her hand in horror, not knowing what to do.
- - night
Tara sat in her room, staring at the ceiling, hair draped all over her bed as the only light was from her lamp, only adding a light orange hue to her room.
She felt bad, she should've known that she never should've left you. She should've thought about how you were going to feel like. It made her want to cry.
As much as she's staring, she notices the crumpled up paper you gave her. She wasn't even sure what it was, maybe that's why she was so scared of opening it.
She grabs it from the side of her night stand and slowly uncrumples it, revealing a letter.
From you 3 years ago.
-
Dear Tara,
We've been friends for so long and I remember when you first came up to me in second grade because you noticed my friends weren't playing with me like they usually do everyday. To be honest, I never told you but for some reason, years ago, I remember staring at you every day while you ate lunch because you seemed so sweet and I wanted to approach you so badly. It's weird that myself in second grade would even do that. But you should know the only reason why I sat on the swings, every, single, day was because I wanted to see you. That's the first time we've ever met and I'm so blessed for that day because now, you're my best friend. Everyday I'm so happy to have you to be the reason I get to smile and have a shoulder to cry on or rest on. I've been wanting to tell you this for so long, but I remember feeling a strange feeling in my chest when I first confessed my problems at home with my parents and felt your soft hands touch mine to comfort me.
It was so so weird. Love always seemed like something I might never have because I found it to be gross. But when I met you, I felt like love wasn't so bad anymore. That day, I remember feeling this warmness in my cheeks when you hugged me, I remember feeling something I don't feel for people often. I felt trust. That's when I knew I was falling in love with you. you've been there every step of the way and I don't know where I'd be without you. Tara, I want to write to you that I love you. I've been falling ever since on nights where I got yelled at and came to your house crying, when you invited me over for Christmas with your family because I didn't have a home I wanted to go to, I love you because you're Tara and it's so hard to explain. but at the same time it isn't. I don't think I met someone as loving, understanding, and caring as you, I've seen you as someone who can light up a room. Even on my bad days, you somehow manage to make me smile, not many people can do that for a person like me.
My mother was planning to move to Canada in like 3 years, she said 3 years later in April, but she said it was up to me. And I told her we had to wait just a little longer because I wanted to give this letter to you and see what you said. I think I won't leave this place because it stores all our memories, like at the coffee shops or the tree we sit down at every morning of Saturday. I'm not leaving because you're the only person that is making me stay. I would've been long gone if you weren't here. But meeting you has caused me to look forward to something to everyday. To someone. I don't think I've ever been so happy to you know, just walk to your house randomly and pop out under your bed and see your scared reaction. But, Tara Carpenter, I love you. I don't even think these words can even explain the kind of comfort, or need that I feel when you're by my side. I hope that these words can help you realize how much you've taken a toll on my life, and possibly, one day I can be by your side for the rest of my life.
All my love,
Y/N/Y/L/N
<;33
-
Tara covered her mouth, trying to cover a cry, which came out muffled. Your words. Her betrayal. She left you before you could even tell her.
She thought of your face in her thoughts, she thought of seeing the letter fall out of your hands when she ignored you on every day she could ever see you.
She thought of you crumpling it with broken sobs and throwing it on your desk.
She thought of the letter you were going to give her, the letter that was supposed to be given, but never was.
The forgotten letter beginning to age.
And noticed, it was all ruffled and there were marks of fallen, long old tears on it, seeing how the ink smudged from the tears.
The letter fell, tears falling from her eyes and streaming down her face.
It must've been so long ago. But it felt like yesterday. Even though it was 3 years ago.
She could've changed the slightest thought of her mind the day she began to ignore you.
If she did, everything would've been right. She could picture her holding hands with you, cuddling at night with your favorite movie playing in the background. You two would've been in desperate, everlasting, love. If her parents didn't divorce, she could see you, in your usual wavy hair with a ribbon tied from the back with your half up half down, the smooth letter laying in your arms, running up to her. She could picture the way you smiled, the way your silly smile made her smile back with a tinted blush on her cheeks. She could picture the way she would jump up and down and say she loved you too.
Everything would've been perfect.
If she didn't leave you in the first place.
Instead, she was left with your letter, crumpled, not smooth, wrinkled, seeing the way the letter couldn't bear to be left anymore.
Tara fell asleep that night, broken, feeling horrible for the way you must've felt, with the crinkled letter in her hand.
- -
The next morning, Tara was at the park, she could see a train station up ahead, New York's local train station that she would take when she had to travel.
Tara was sitting under the tree you always sat at with her. The tree that held so many memories, the way when spring would hit, the white flowers would fall on the green grass when you two would be together. The way the tree's flowers began to wilt when you began to sit alone, like the friendship that began to wilt.
She waited, you sat at this tree every single day, but why weren't you coming? She waited, looking up at the flowers, they weren't very white anymore, the fallen flowers a little orange from being dried. It was spring, it was April, the flowers should've been whiter, but they weren't as bright. What a metaphor and sign it was for her. But still, they were as pretty as ever.
She bit her lip, sighing, grabbing the letter you wrote her again, reading it again. Then before she could read it again, as she looked up, she could see..
You?
You were at the train station, you held a luggage, looked packed, with your hair down, usually ribbon in your hair, waiting to enter the train.
Her eyes widened, and it came to her, everything made sense, her thoughts unfolding, everything like magic was happening.
She remembered something, something..
She quickly read the letter she was reading, then her eyes expanded with fear.
Then she remembered, it was 3 years since she left you, and it was April.
"My mother was planning to move to Canada in like 3 years, she said 3 years later in April, but she said it was up to me. And I told her we had to wait just a little longer because I wanted to give this letter to you and see what you said. I think I won't leave this place because it stores all our memories, like at the coffee shops or the tree we sit down at every morning of Saturday. I'm not leaving because you're the only person that is making me stay."
- -
happy ending
"Fuck!" Tara cried, grabbing the letter as she ran after you.
It couldn't be too late, it couldn't have been today!
As she ran, her legs taking her as far as they could, she could hear your voice in her mind,
"You shouldn't be being here right now. You can't be here today! You shouldn't be!"
She should've known you were going to leave, she should've seen last night! Is that why you were so afraid to see her when she came up to you? Because you knew you were going to be gone the next day? And she was going to keep you from leaving? Because you didn't have the heart to really tell her why she couldn't have talked to you?
It all made sense.
Tara sobbed as tears fell like a thunderstorm, running and seeing the train doors open, there were at least 10 people in front of you waiting to get on, it made her more desperate, running after you.
She screamed your name, she was so close but yet so far away, why can't the people move slower?
Tara lost her father and sister, she couldn't lose you. She can't. She needed to apologize, she never got to say her true apology.
She was almost there, and you were so close to entering the train, making her run up the stairs as fast as she could, panting and losing her breath.
The day was beginning to lose hope, there was only a few more people who needed to get on before it closed, before you did.
She saw your figure, your pretty face, not focusing on the tired eye bags as she got up the stairs, running to the train.
Tara screamed your name as loud as she could, making you turn, and her grabbing your arm, pulling you and your luggage out of the train, seeing it start to roll away.
She was panting hard, you turning to see her, your eyes full of fear, confusion, and most of all, a wave of.. Hope?
For some reason, it took her a while to catch her breath, but before you could say something, she hugged you, tightly.
The arms of you wrapped around her stomach, she felt you melt in her arms, burying your face against her chest, as she embraced you, the letter you wrote falling to the floor.
Tara cried as you both hugged, whispering in a slight broken voice, "I'm sorry Y-Y/N.."
You were crying too, softly as you hugged her, "I know.. It's okay. We're okay.."
She kept talking, she felt horrible, "I-I left you when you needed me.. I was the only person you relied on a-and I left because I w-wasn't thinking about how you felt.. I thought t-that if I c-could push you away, these feelings I-I felt would go away and I wouldn't take m-my anger out on you for my parents divorcing.. I'm s-so s-sorry.." The girl's scent comforted you, reminding you of your past, making you hug her more.
Tara could hear you hiccupping on cries as she twisted your hair, "I didn't even k-know you needed me that much, you s-should've told me you were planning to leave."
You looked up at her, you were crying horribly, she swept bangs away from your face to see your tired, broken face that has been building up these past 3 years.
"I-I thought you didn't want to see me anymore.. I thought you didn't need me.. I-I thought you left because you hated me.. or didn't care about me anymore.. I couldn't bear to think about you breaking your promise.. I thought you abandoned me.. I was s-so hurt that I j-just did all these things that weren't me.. I tried to avoid you.. I couldn't sleep or eat.. I was s-so scared because I had no one.." You said, voice barely a whisper, raw and full of hurt.
Tara's eyes widened a little, a wave of strong guilt hitting her, as she shushed you.. "No Y/N.. Of course not.. I never hated you.. I-I loved you and I couldn't bear to think that I would take my anger out that you never caused on you.. S-so I avoided you and didn't think about how m-much it would affect you. I'm sorry.." Tara said again, voice cracking.
You nodded against her chest, sniffling as Tara saw the tears fall again, wiping them.
"I love you," she whispered, "I always had."
She saw your eyes slightly sparkle, that sparkle that she thought she'd never see, the sparkle that disappeared that day she left.
Her hands reached to grab the letter she dropped, showing it to you, "Let's try to restart, okay?"
You were still crying, but managed to make a small smile formed as you nodded, "Tara, I love you. I've loved you for so long, I've loved you when I realized that you were the one person that I could finally trust, a word that I thought that might never happened, but it did because o-of you. C-can we maybe.. Just.."
She pulled you a little closer, grinning just a little as she nodded her head before you could finish, "Yes."
Then she kissed you softly, it was like everything had never happened, she could feel the way you hugged her, the way the wilted flowers were going to flourish again, the letter that was forgotten, finally given.
"Do you really promise you won't leave me?.."
You both locked eyes when pulling away, Tara held up a pinky.
"I don't break pinky promises."
You take her pinky and link it with yours, hugging her again.
"I trust you."
Every bad thing that happened between you two was long forgotten.
- -
angst ending
Tara's eyes widened with fear, seeing you with a packed luggage, your figure entering the train, you couldn't.. Not today..
"Fuck!" She cried, the train was not to far, she could still make it.
She screamed your name, all the feelings towards you she felt spilling out from her scream as she ran after you.
She ran, ran ran ran, running out of breath as her shoes crumpled on dry leaves and grass, crying.
"No! You can't be! Y/N! Please!" She screamed, but her voice was muffled, you couldn't hear her.
Tara was so close, yet so far as she kept running, getting closer, an apology of cries coming out.
The train got closer and closer as she finally saw you, screaming your name.
You finally turned around, knowing the voice all to well as you turned to see her.
Then the train doors closed, your eyes only being seen through the window as she cried out your name, shaking her head in disbelief, her eyes filled with regret and tears.
You looked at her, like you couldn't believe she was here, you thought you'd never see her again as your hand reached up to touch the window, your touch ghosting on her face as she could hear you mouth out her name.. "Tara.." Then she could sense the sense of shame on your face, sorrow.
"Please.. It's not too late.." She sobbed, her voice going in the crevices of the doors.
Then the train began to move, as she saw you getting farther and farther away, your hand on the window as she saw you mouth the words, "I'm sorry."
She ran after the train, but knew deep down, she wasn't going to make it. She wasn't going to see you again, the train leaving her sight as she cried, regretting the days she ignored you, regretting the way she made you think that she didn't ever care. She abandoned someone when knowing, years ago, she was once the girl who promised to protect them and never leave her side.
She knew that you had left, all those memories you two had created were left with her now. She knew that you weren't going to come back.
She never even got to say goodbye. She never got to say sorry. She never got to tell you she loved you, she loved you all of these years. She never knew where you would be. She would never know if you two would ever meet again.
The only sound she could hear was the wind blowing in her hair, blowing the muffled sounds of you two laughing and giggling, what you two once were, what you two could've been, it was just too late. You would just be a memory for her, a memory she could never forgive herself for. A broken memory she knew she caused. The memory was broken but she also knew, long season months ago, she broken your promised heart.
I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you.
Take me back to the night we met.
Tara thought back to the day you two met, the day you became friends. The day that led to you falling to her years later. The day that led to her falling for you, then pushing you away.
The day that led to this.
If she could see your face one last time and kiss you, everything would be okay.
Tara knew that she was just too late, seeing the train long gone, tears in her eyes as she let out a choking sob, the letter falling out of her hand, long forgotten.
#jenna ortega x fem!reader#jenna ortega imagine#jenna ortega x reader#vada cavell x reader#tara carpenter x reader#jenna marie ortega#tara carpenter x you#jenna ortega x you#jenna ortega x y/n#vada cavell x y/n
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On set of Dune II
This part of “The delicate beginning rush” universe- whole series HERE
If you want to be tagged
Masterlist
Pairing: Austin Butler x fem reader
Warning: smut 18+, blow job, cursing, MINORS PLEASE BE AWARE
Word count: 2k
Plot: you want to surprise Austin on the set of dune 2 and he gets shy about his fight scenes, but that is all forgotten when you work your magic on him.
A/n: this was a request by someone and it was so exciting to write, if you have more, send them to me and I’ll get to them as soon as I can.
With my busy schedule I barely got my assistant to fit this surprise flight to Budapest, so I could visit Austin on set of Dune 2. We haven't seen each other in person in 5 weeks, filming taking all of our time, on opposite sides of the world. It's not easy and it definitely is not pleasant, but we aren't the first nor the last to go through long distance. I have a few days off, time which I should have spend in the studio with Taylor, who's working on her new album, but I could not stay any longer without seeing Aus.
"Y/n so nice to meet you in person, I'm Denis. I have to say, I look forward to some day working with you, you're amazing!" The director says, putting his hand forward for me to shake. I smile kindly at him and take his hand. "Oh that's so beautiful of you to say, I look forward to that day as well, your work is so detailed and ambitious." I giggle, blushing a bit at his compliments. "Now I know this is a surprise for Austin, I did not say anything" he zips his lips closed chuckling "but you do have to sign some papers, just formalities you know." I nod and sign away, promising not to tell anything that I see today to anyone. "He's working, full make up, so brace yourself, it's really, it's a bit scary, come on."
Denis puts his hand on my shoulder and leads the way, as we walk I can start hearing grunting and thudding and all sorts of scenes. I am a bit worried about seeing Austin in full make up and acting like this psychotic character, considering that after the first time seeing him over video in full makeup I had a horrible nightmare. Granted he did call me at 3 am in the morning and I did answer kinda unconsciously, but still. There's big lights centered on two figures in the middle of a blue room, the rest is pretty dimly lit, so my eyes take a moment to adjust. I could recognize Austin's grunts anywhere, having had them in my ear for so long, so my knees feel a bit weak, my skin already hungry to feel him.
As I get used to the light, I see Austin move so athletically, jumping back avoiding hits, then throwing some good punches himself. He's been working very hard in the gym gaining a few pounds of muscle, looking toned like never before. God he looks so weird with this make up, I miss his blonde curly hair, thank god for the other movie he's filming, and this is all a fake bald cap. The other guy he's fighting with, uses a small knife, which I'm pretty sure it's fake but still scary. He swings it, in front of Austin's face and next thing I know he falls to the ground, catching himself mid fall, turning his head to the camera, showing his face full of blood. I stifle a scream, covering my mouth, feeling my heart pounding in my chest, I look at everyone, no one seems to notice. Austin flashes a smile, black teeth showing, with trembling hands I push my hair behind my ears and try and act as if I had known this was all an act.
"Cut! Austin man, amazing! Let's get makeup in here and clean it up, I want to shoot it one more time. Let's take five!" Denis says, and suddenly Austin's whole demeanor changes, it's so strange, he looks so scary, but his stance is so Austin. I clear my voice and wipe my sweaty palms on my pants, walking forward. Austin, being the sweet guy he is, is shaking hands with his partner. "Hi there stranger, need a tissue? I think you got a bloody nose." As soon as he hears my voice, he turns around, scooping my up in a tight hug, getting fake blood all over me. "Y/n!" Austin says, holding me tight to his chest, his lips kissing my neck, leaving wet splashes of fake blood. "Did you miss me baby?" I ask, patting his back, as my feet touch the ground. He doesn't answer, instead, his hands hold my face and he pulls me in for a kiss. It wet and bitter, even a bit sticky, but it tastes like him still. Austin breathes into the kiss, his tongue, entering my mouth exploring. I lace my hands around his neck and moan into him, forgetting for a minute where we are.
Austin pulls back resting his forehead on mine, breathing softly. "What are you doing here?" He asks a smile evident in his tone. I giggle when he rubs his nose against mine, pulling back to look at me. "Oh fuck, I got fake blood all over you, honey I'm so sorry!" He tries to wipe it with the back of his hand, but I take it away, holding his hand in mine. "It's fine, I'm just glad it's fake, I thought it was real." Austin can see that I'm as honest as they come and his eyes look sympathetic "I'm so sorry darling, I didn't mean to worry you!" He says, kissing my forehead head, then grunting annoyed. "I really should stop kissing you now." He says, rubbing his thumb over my forehead, on what I'm assuming is another fake blood stain. "You look so buff and scary, so so hot!" I say biting my lip.
"Really?" Even though all this white makeup I can see the slight blush he has on, turning all shy and avoiding eye contact. "So so hot!" I stand on my tiptoes and whisper in his ear, feeling him shiver as my breath fans over his skin. "I can't wait for you to make those pretty noises for me!" I laugh, but my breath gets stuck in my throat as his arms circle around me and he pulls me in, flush to his front. "Baby these leather pants are very very tight and leave no room." He says rubbing his pelvis in mine so I can feel his hard on. My blood starts boiling and I can almost see myself with him on top of me.
"Ask for ten minutes, bathroom break or something." I plead under my breath. Austin looks hesitant, but he still does it anyway. Denis gives his ok and we bolt to his trailer, knowing we don't have much time. I laugh all the way there and he tries to make small talk, telling me all about how filming as been going so far, event this he's already told all this stuff. I listen, but in the back of my head I'm far gone.
We close the door to his trailer and his lips are on mine instantly. His hands hold mine down, so that I won't be able to try and thread my fingers through his nonexistent hair. "Get on the bed!" I say breathless and step back, letting him move past me and onto the bed. "Y/n, my darling, I've missed you so so much." Austin says, sitting on his bed, leaning back a bit, legs spread wide, sporting a noticeable bulge. "I've missed you too." I admit and move in front of him, placing my hand in his hard on, squeezing him through his pants. "Fuck!" He says, throwing his head back. I work his pants open and slide them down enough to free his hard dick, looking red and needy. I lick my lips and get down on my knees. This would be my first time ever doing anything like this, but I've been thinking about it a lot and I've been wanting to try.
"Y/n y/n, no no baby you don't have to, honey come on!" Austin tries to lift me off the ground but I keep my position. "I want to, but I've never done it before, so if I do something wrong, just tell me. Please!" I bat my lashes at him and his hips thrust in the air. "Just, ok, but take it easy ok?" I nod and hold him in my hand. I spit on him and move my hand up and down, using my thumb to touch his head gathering more sleek from there. I can already feel my panties getting wet, so I squeeze my thighs together. I lean forward and take him in my mouth. So far he's been quiet, but now that my warm mouth is on him, he lets out a long breathy moan, fisting the sheets beside him. "Fuck, you are an angel! I love you so much!" He tastes salty, but good in a way. I swirl my tongue around and suck, bopping my head up and down. One of his big hands leaves the sheets and finds purchase in my hair. I moan around him and feel him shiver as a few more cures slip past his lips.
God I've missed him. "Fuck baby, you look so beautiful with your mouth around my cock, do you like it? Like how I fit in your mouth?" I love when Austin talks dirty to me, so I moan, picking up the pace, causing him to fall back on the bed, crying out In pleasure. I finally understand why he loves to do this for me, I think I could watch him like this for ages and not get bored. I feel him twitch in my mouth, so I move my free hand from his thigh, to his balls, squeezing softly. "Shit, fucking hell!" He grunts, pushing his hips a bit in my mouth. "Y/n, baby, I'm not going to last long, if you don't want it in your mouth, I'll tell you when ok?" I nod, but I know want it in my mouth, I've tasted him before, after giving him hand jobs, so now I'm more than eager to get a taste of him.
I sneak my hand under his balls and push slightly on the spot there, which causes Austin to jump off the bed a bit, pushing himself further down my throat making me gag, tears prickle my eyes. I breathe through my nose and relax for him, working on him, pushing on that secret spot. "Fuck, Y/n, baby that feels so good, ahh I'm cu-" he doesn't get to finish what he has to say, as his body goes rigid and he spills himself into my mouth. I stay calm and swallow him whole, enjoying they way it feels. When he's done, I let him out of my mouth, give him a few more strokes, ending with a kiss to his head, smiling at the way he curses.
He lifts me up into his arms and I lay my head in his chest. "Wow, are you sure you've never done this before? Because this must have been the best I've ever had!" Austin says out of breath. I giggle and kiss under his chin. "I like to read, I learn what I read." I explain, sighing when he moves his head to kiss my lips. His hand travels down my body and gives my ass a good squeeze, making me yelp, so he can sneak his tongue into my mouth.
A knock on the door as us parting, him quickly putting his pants on and me, wiping my face with a tissue. "Back on set!" A voice shouts from the other side of the door. "In a minute!" Austin screams back, trying to make himself as presentable as possible. "Can I come watch you some more?" I ask, turning the water on to was the dried fake blood from my face. I look back at Austin and he looks so timid now, scratching the back of his head. "I mean of course baby..."
"Aus..? What's up?" I ask using a towel to dry my face, while I look at him, his eyes wondering the room, avoiding mine. "Well I guess I'm just a tad shy, you know, I have to act pretty barbaric out there and I feel so silly, I'm just I don't know.." he says dropping his head. I get close to him and take his hands in mine, rubbing slow circles on his knuckles. "You don't look silly, you look fierce, and bold and scary, you have nothing to be shy about." I say kissing the tip of his nose. "Now come on big boy, you've got work to do, and the faster you finish here, the sooner you get to make love to me!" I wink at him and he chockes on his laughter, blushing a deep red.
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#austin butler#austin butler x reader#austin butler fic#the delicate beginning rush#austin butler fanfiction#austin#baz luhrmann elvis#austin butler smut#dune#austin butler fans#austin butler love#austin butler instagram#austin butler imagine#austin fanfic#austin butler fanfic#austin butler fandom#dune part 2#dune part two#dune movie#feyd rautha#austin butler x actress reader#austin butler x fem!reader
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What you'd argue with them over! Pt.2 (Zoro, Sanji & Law)
READ PT. 1 FIRST
https://www.tumblr.com/zoros-sake-bottles/719410532748328960/what-youd-argue-with-them-over-pt1-zoro?source=share
Zoro
After that argument the with Zoro about him not caring for his health you weren’t the same
You began allowing him to do what he saw fit
He’d injure himself and you wouldn’t say a word
You refused to nag him-to beg him to think about his body, but that didn’t mean you didn’t care
So you thought of a way to prove your point…and that was putting yourself in harms way constantly
In order for him to understand where you were coming from, he was going to have to see it himself … on you
So the day after that you continuously allowed yourself to get hurt in battles
At first it was little things like scrapes, cuts and bruises, Zoro saw these but didn’t pay them much mind because of how small they were
But over time it became more excessive, you allowed your opponent to freely bang you up before defeating them
You’d come back with bigger bruises covering your rib cage, you even had a busted lip
At one point he just couldn’t take it anymore and while you were getting treated he burst into the room and told Chopper to take five, leaving you two alone
“....What the hell was that out there?” is all he says as he stares down at you on the hospital cot
“A fight-”
“Screw that y/n, you know what I mean!” his jaw is clenched as he looks at your body all bruised and bleeding
You sit up holding your broken rib and Zoro’s arms go out to help you but you push them away
“Look at yourself, seriously, you shouldn’t be-”
You ignore him, going as far to stand up
Your legs wobble excessively as you take small steps
“Y/n sit down, your in no shape to go do anything right now-”
Your leg buckles as you continue to try and walk your breath becoming more like a wheeze
“Y/n! Alright! Enough! I get it!” Zoro grabs your shoulders and looks into your eyes
His body shakes a bit and his eyes are deeply concerned as he guides you back onto the cot
“You proved your point just-.....sit down” his voice stresses as he helps you onto the cot and covers you with a blanket
Despite the pain your in you find it in you to laugh a bit, it makes you look unhinged
You have dried blood under your nose and your bottom lip is swollen but all you can think about is how your plan worked
Zoro’s sits down on a stool in front of you, he shakes his head and sighs as he runs a hand down his face “crazy woman…” he mutters
Sanji
Since the argument Sanji has apologized to you countless times and you know that he means them some what
He's sorry that he upset you, he's sorry that you felt like you had to resort to physical violence
He doesn't understand the issue at hand and so as much as you hated what you were gonna do you had to give him a taste of what you experience with him on a daily
You started subtly allowing yourself to be hit on by males
You were a girl that could handle yourself so usually Sanji just watched (intensely and angrily) in these situations as you told the men off
But can you imagine his face when you didn't tell the guys to kick rocks?!
When you accepted the sleazy compliments and even gave some!
Sanji nearly went comatose as he watched you joyfully conversate with a scumbag at a bar
His jaw dropped as you laughed at the strangers jokes and even poured him more sake in his shot glass
"Mon cheri!? W-what's-I-I…why'd you-"
"Why what?" you reply nonchalantly
"T-that garbage man was…he was sexualizing your body dear!"
"Your being dramatic Sanji he was just expressing to me how much he admired my beauty-"
"My love no, that scum was undressing you with his eyes"
"your being ridiculous"
Sanji looks hurt as he tries to appeal to you somehow but his words just weren’t getting through
The man comes back and right in front of Sanji he’s about to caress your hair
There's no way Sanji would allow that, he ends up kicking the half drunk in the stomach sending him flying through the bar
Your jaw drops as you look up at him
Sanji face is scrunched as he looks at the guy knocked out, half his body in the bar and the other half hanging out
“Sanji-”
Sanji turns to you and takes your hands in his and with an inhale he says
“Mon amour, I cannot imagine how you feel when this happens to me and I am so sorry that I didn’t take the issue serious enough to the point you had to do a demonstration like this, I'm a fool”
He rubs your hands with his thumbs and he seems still very heated from the entire ordeal
You can’t even stay mad at Sanji because of how jealous he looks
“I forgive you baby, I'm glad you can see what I go through…”
You smile softly at him and he looks at you with a smudge of a smile
“....you didn’t have to compliment his hair….it wasn’t even nice” Sanji mumbles still jealous
You giggle and caress his face
“You're right it was an ugly orange color but do you know what my favorite color is?”
Sanji looks at you curiously
“Yellow”
You give him a kiss and he blushes not even thinking about that stupid drunk from before. He just wants to drown in your praises
Law
After the argument you both had before he has been acting as if it never happened
He gave you time to cool of but when you came back he didn’t apologize but rather gave you a task to fulfill
Its as if that was his way of saying that you overreacted and that it wasn’t that deep
You decided to keep it all inside, that's all Law ever did anyway so he shouldn’t have had a problem with you doing the same
You were tired of being labeled as over emotional every time something got you riled up or hurt your feelings
You wanted to be taken seriously by Law
One day you were listening in on Law's meeting that he had purposely left you out of
It seems he was planning on having the crew go to a dangerous island that had a poneglyph on it next
This idea is tossed around because Law isn’t risky and nonchalant like his fellow members of the worst generation
He is precise as a surgeon should be
You were all running low resources and the island was close so it was decided that the crew would stop at the island for resources ONLY
So once you all arrived at the island you decided to sneak off and take prints of the poneglyph
It definitely wasn't easy and you had plenty of cuts and scrapes but it was all worth it and you couldn't wait to see the look on Law's face!
When you arrived back it was about afternoon, you searched for the submarine in the water but your eyes landed on your irritated boyfriend instead
He leaned against a rock his arms crossed his head tilted down
"y/n ya, tell me three things"
You can feel the disapproval oozing off of him and before you know it your being 'shambled'
You reappear in front of him
"What was the plan?" "Where have you been?" "Who's your captain?"
"The plan was to retrieve resources and I chose to act alone on my own little mission, I don't know what the big deal is you do it all the time" You scoff turning your head away
Almost immediately he is turning your head back with his long slender fingers
"Do I look like I'm in the mood for games? Do you know how long I've been standing here?, We were done with the mission hours ago" he stares into your soul with his dark eyes
You almost always came close to folding when he had you like this
"I-...well-" You sputter watching his sharp eyebrow lift
"You can't even defend yourself, look at you blubbering like a moronic fish"
You feel embarrassed slightly but you don't back down "I got a print of the poneglyph"
You shove the scroll into his face but it's almost as he doesn't see it
"Does go and buy some rice and dried meat sound like go and get the poneglyph to you? If so I'm going to check your hearing right now"
"I-"
He holds your wrist and you wince as he examines you, even though he's clearly upset, he's tending to you like your made out of glass
Its silent as he slowly rotates you, he touches at your shoulder and when you hiss it confirms whatever analysis going on in his brain
"You need stitches" he grumbles
"I'll do it myself, anyway look" you thrust the poneglyph into his face again
He takes the print from you and tsks before making it disappear
"Law!-"
"What? Am I supposed to be happy you went against my orders and got yourself injured all to prove meager point"
Your shoulders sink "...did-...did it work at least?"
He sighs as takes off his hat before running his hands through his raven hair
"....It's hot as hell…and…i'm hungry"
You tilt your head and raise an eyebrow, was he changing the subject "What?"
"My back is killing me…"
You blink, was this his way of apologizing? Was he trying to communicate now?
You swallow and kick at the grass "I-I…I can massage it for you" you blush lightly "if you want-"
"That sounds heaven sent" he gives a small smirk
"Oh-okay, lets go then-"
Your body is pulled in close by him
"L-law?"
"You know, you never answered my third question he says softly
"Huh?-"
"Who's your captain?" he rest his forehead against yours
Your heart beats quickly and you find yourself trying to slow your breathing
"Y/n ya…"
"....you...your my captain"
#one piece#sanji x reader#fem!reader#law x reader#sanji#roronoa zoro#strawhat pirates#vinsmoke sanji#x reader#tralfagar law#zoro x reader#straw hat pirates#heart pirates#mugiwara no luffy#marimo#onepiece live action
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I project my shitty days onto vox and then think about treating him all sweet and nice and spoiling him to cheer him up. Like. The stuff I would do for him wouldn't really work on me but thinking about helping someone with the same problem makes it easier for me sometimes. Also imagining him smiling all stupid and not trying to hide his blush while you complement him and kiss him and hold his hand, etc
agsgsggsg lowkey having a bad day and feeling very overwhelmed and i’m literally the same way as you— I project my shitty days onto characters because cheering ppl up cheers me up I have a complex and need to feel useful all the time so here are my thoughts!!
Vox is no stranger to terrible, overwhelming, super shitty draining days. So you being there for him at the end of it means a lot, even if he doesn’t show it at first.
Coming home after a day of overwhelming meetings, arguments, and ego-crushing events, and laying his head in your lap while you trace up and down his arms.
Cooing down at him compliments about how he “Handled everything so well” and “how proud” you are of him.
The tired smile will tug at his lips while he’s brows furrow, growing calmer under your touch.
But you continue with the compliments, making them more vague now, “Your so pretty, sweetheart” “So smart and sweet” “My pretty baby.”
He’s so tired that the kind words lure him into a giddy but relaxed state, his hands come up to his screen and he smiles up at you.
You gently shut his eyes before continuing your rambles about how much you love him. With a little more energy from your presence, he’d probably let one small giggle slip before clearing his throat.
Trying to keep his cool, he’d say a formal thank you, and in return you saying “Anything for my baby.” He literally kicks his feet and nuzzles into you, telling you to ‘shut the fuck up’ because his screen is actually overheating.
Kind of out of character, I don’t care. I’m having a very bad time and I NEED THIS.
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Peeping Tom Part 2
18+ MDNI (just don't, ok?)
Part 1 can be found here. Masterlist can be found here.
Eddie Munson x Fem Reader x Perv!Steve Harrington
Summary: Steve hadn't been able to get what he'd saw behind that gym block out of his mind. Even when he was fucking other girls. A confession, a confrontation and a deal is made.
WC: 8.2k
CW: unprotected p in v sex (use a condom, pls), booty call, masturbation (m), panty sniffing/licking, gaslighting, use of degrading pet names, use of praisey pet names, daddy kink, dom!Steve, ONE use of y/n (I tried avoiding it but I couldn't), face fucking, fingering (f receiving), Steve being a fuckboy and a pervert, very small & brief mention of a piss kink (only time this will ever happen), mention of squirting, posessiveness, jealousy, mentions of voyeurism/exhibitionism, violence (there's a little bit of blood), bullying/teasing, illusions to/discussion of cheating, dirty talk, kinda angst? all characters are 18+
Please let me know if I've forgotten anything and I will add it.
A/N: okay here it is, part 2 finally. It was originally going to end up being huge so please don't worry, this is NOT the end of this story, there WILL be a part 3. I am a little worried this will be a bit of a let down, but I promise part 3 is gonna be worth it, so bare with me, it's coming. Leave feedback, let me know if you enjoyed it!
My requests are currently OPEN and I write for Eddie, Steddie, Steve and Billy. Send me some stuff!
Smut (and a little bit of angst this time) under the cut
He knew he'd find you here. Standing at your locker, completely unaware of his presence.
He snorted a quiet laugh to himself as he thought of how that wasn't the first time you didn't know he was there. He watched you from down the hall, sorting through textbooks and putting some in your bag, taking others out and slotting them into their rightful place inside the small metal closet full of your belongings.
His eyes gazed over the little dress you were wearing today. A gorgeous deep wine red, strappy with a black t-shirt underneath, the fabric hugging at your waist and flowing out around your hips. Your legs were bare, they looked like they were so fucking soft. The whole ensemble finished off with a pair of simple black leather platform ankle boots.
Steve had never really been one for noticing exactly what a girl was wearing, usually too focused on getting them out of their clothes to be bothered with it. But with you? It was different. He kinda wanted to fuck you fully clothed, hiking that pretty dress up enough for him to slot between your thighs and slip inside that soaked slit between your legs that he'd thought about since it was first revealed to him last week.
Fuck, he'd thought about it almost every night. Even when he was balls deep inside whatever his flavour of the day was. But he also thought about having you completely bare and exposed for him too. Alot.
Before he knew it, he was moving forwards, smirking a little as he saw your eyes flash towards him, finally noticing him. Your cheeks turned a real pretty shade of pink and he just knew it complimented the colour of your perky nipples, and that it had flushed all the way up to the tip of your ears.
You'd been actively trying to avoid him. Apart from a few little winks in the corridors in passing which made you want to shrivel up with embarrassment, you'd managed to successfully do so. But now he was coming up to you. And Eddie wasn't here to hide behind or use as an excuse or a distraction. The hallway was filled with strangers as you scanned around for one singular familiar face, cursing under your breath as you heard the footsteps get closer.
"Looking for someone, pretty girl?" He crooned, smooth and his voice still a little thick with the morning. Turning your head you saw him leaning against the locker next to yours, a thumb slotted into the belt loop of blue jeans as his other hand held the strap of his backpack.
Fuck. You had to talk to him now. You didn't want to be rude and you definitely didn't want to just walk away. It'd look really fucking strange if you did that. As much as you wanted to, so badly. "Uh.. n-no I was just.. seeing if Eddie was coming, he should be here a-any second now" you stuttered out nervously, giving him a small tight lipped smile, trying to deter him by threatening the appearance of your large intimidating boyfriend. You definitely had scary dog privileges, and you were thankful for it right now.
"Oh I'm sure he's coming alright" he grinned at you, bearing his teeth like a shark, eyeing you up and down slowly, drinking you in. You found it somewhat threatening. Even if you couldn't help but think about just how perfect his incisors would feel sinking into the skin of your shoulder. You swallowed and shook your head a little at his comment, trying to get rid of your thoughts as the blush on your face deepened.
"Look, Steve, I-I know you saw us that day behind the gym block b-but-" you started, looking down at your feet as you closed your locker but were cut off by him laughing a little at you. Kind of meanly. You looked at him in confusion, reaching up and fiddling with the guitar pick necklace of Eddie's that you always wore. He'd told you it would show everyone you were his girl - even if everyone already knew that. It'd become somewhat of a security item for you now.
"B-but what?" He mocked you a little, cocking his head to the side and looking at you now like he pitied you, still with that fucking stupid grin on his face. "Don't sit there and act all shy, sweets. You definitely weren't when I sat and watched your boyfriend drill his dick inside you while you flicked your tongue at me and watched me cum in front of you" he chuckled low, getting a little closer to you.
You still couldn't look at him. You kept your gaze on the floor, shuffling uncomfortably from foot to foot. You felt like the walls were closing in the closer he got, feeling your back hit against the cool metal behind you and a hand plant itself next to your head, the sound of it making you gasp a little and your head shooting up. You looked at the hand. It was his hand. His big, thick fingers tapping steadily at the grate of the locker. Why did you clench your thighs at the sight of them, thinking about how they'd feel stuffed inside you?
You turned your face slowly to see him closer than ever, only inches from your face now. Jesus fucking Christ, what was he doing?! Eddie was sure to come around the corner any moment now and catch you two like this. And he'd fucking rip him limb from limb if he saw him up this close and personal to you. Even if he wasn't even touching you. "Y-you need to go" you squeaked out pathetically, your voice just above a whisper.
"Why? I mean, it's not like Eddie's gonna really care. He let me watch you two fuck, didn't he?" He grinned his teeth at you wider, the grin faltering a little as you ducked your head again. "Shit" he muttered under his breath. "He had no fucking clue did he? You let me see all that and he didn't even know? And you still haven't ratted me out? Wow, maybe you are a dirty little slut after all, keeping naughty little secrets like that from your boyfriend" he groaned a little, getting a tiny bit closer. "Wonder if you'd keep any more dirty little secrets from him.." he said in a raspy tone, making your heart flutter at a million miles an hour for more than one reason.
"You want me to make your cunt drip down your leg with my cum like he did that day?" He smirked as you gasped at his words, your face shooting up as you looked at him angrily now, Steve getting ever closer to you as his hot breath fanned your face. "He doesn't have to know, does he? Cause you can keep a secret, can't you?"
You'd had enough. You couldn't fucking take this bullshit anymore. You used all your strength and pushed him away from you, watching as he stumbled back and laughed at you, seeing you storm off down the hallway with the straps of your backpack gripped tightly in both hands. Your face was now matching the colour of your dress and your jaw clenched, lips pursed tightly against each other as you made your way to class, steam practically rising out of your head.
He'd got what he wanted. He'd successfully riled you up. And he knew you wanted him just as much as he wanted you. He smirked in your direction, watching the way the skirt of your dress would flounce around your ass as you briskly walked off. He couldn't help but kiss the air again in your direction, like he'd done that day last week, before he made his way to his own class. His mind now filled with a million dirty thoughts, a lot of them about throwing you in a janitor's closet and making a mess of that pretty little flushed face of yours and getting that little dress off you. As much as he'd love to be inside your cunt with it still draped over your every curve.
That night was just a normal Wednesday night, and Steve had no plans. His parents were gone and it wasn't quite the weekend so there was no use trying to throw a party. But he couldn't shake the thought of your pretty dress and the way it swished around your thighs, almost revealing your round, jiggly ass to him as you walked off.
How it hugged against your swollen chest as you huffed down the corridor angrily. He wasn't sure why he found the thought of you walking away all pissed off and embarrassed because he'd been teasing you at school so fucking hot. He smirked to himself, humming a little and feeling a tent in his pants form as he lounged around on the couch in his grey sweats and no shirt, his bare hairy chest fully exposed to the elements.
He palmed at himself a little, thinking back to what he had seen in that alley that day. The way you looked at him, the way you licked your lips, the way your mouth fell open and you made a really pretty noise when Eddie fucked you a certain way, probably hitting your g-spot with the head of his cock. Fuck. He groaned at the thought of that, how your pussy would flutter at having that special spot inside you battered against repeatedly with a thick cock.
Steve was rock solid now. He wanted to push his dick between your wet little lips and face fuck you into next fucking year, make your eyes water and your drool spill down your chin and neck, soaking the collar of whatever you were wearing. Or just your bare tits if he'd got you out of your clothes by that point.
But he can't, cause you're Eddie's. And yeah, maybe that did make him a little jealous, because he wanted to destroy you and leave you more of a mess than Eddie had. More of a mess than you probably had ever been.
Fuck it. He wasn't in the mood to deal with his boner himself, not when he could have someone else's hand wrapped around him at a moment's notice, the perks of being "The King". He pushed himself up off the couch, heading up to his room to find his little notebook of girls phone numbers he kept. You know, the kind that any popular senior high guy would have.
Or maybe it was just Steve. Chicks really digged Steve for some reason. He wasn’t sure if it was the hair, his charm or the fact that he was more than well endowed. Or maybe he just knew a lot of slutty girls. He looked through the book, trying to find someone who was even anything close to you. Although they'd never compare, not in a million years.
Not Tammy, she sounds like a fucking muppet even when she’s having sex, especially when she cums. Steve shuddered at the memory of it. Not Nancy, she's with Jonathan and definitely too much of a goody two shoes to cheat on him, even if he knows that his dick has to be bigger and better than that little rat looking fuckers. He scoffs a laugh as he flips past her name.
He finds a girls name, no last name, just written down hastily as “Claire from Chem class”. He couldn’t remember who that was for a minute, he had to think about it. Wow, was he really that much of a manwhore? He chuckled to himself as he thought of it, coming to the conclusion that he was but he didn't particularly care.
Suddenly his eyes went wide when he remembered that she was the girl who could deepthroat a cock without taking a breath for at least 5 minutes. And she’d let him cum inside her, she did last time. “Shit” he hissed out, rubbing at his erection over his sweats, mulling it over in his head. She did have the same hair colour as you. And the same body shape. So it would make imagining it was you much easier. He picked up his phone and immediately dialled her number, confident in his choice of fuckdoll for tonight. It wasn’t long before she answered the phone eagerly, giving him a sweet little “Hello?”
He smirked to himself, poking his tongue on the inside of his cheek as he lounged back against the headboard of his bed, the cord of the phone stretching over as he lazily stroked a finger up and down the outline of his clothed dick. “Hey babygirl” he said down the phone, turning that charm up to 11 as he heard Claire from Chem Class giggle and say his name down the phone breathily, clearly trying to be sexy. “What are you up to, gorgeous? You wanna come over? I’ve missed you”
It's not long before Claire is at his place, he’s grabbing at her and pulling her close the second she's in through the door, biting his lip at her and sliding his hands up her hips to her waist, pressing her against the wall next to the front door, her hands going to his shoulders and laying there, letting him feel her up as he pleased.
He does notice as she's trying to say hello to him that she’s wearing a nice little blue denim skirt and a white tank top that pushes her tits up nicely, they’re just about as big as yours too and they make him groan at the sight of them, surging forward and sloppily making out with her, all tongue and teeth and spit as she reached down and cupped his bulge. She fucking knew exactly what she was coming here for, the little whore.
The thought makes him stiffen further in his sweats as he moves his hands under her top, cupping at her bare tits, pinching at her stiff nipples a little meanly as she whimpered into his mouth. Fuck, no bra. And suddenly he’s thinking about you again. How you showed Eddie (and him) your tits behind the gym block that day. Completely exposing yourself for any wandering eyes to potentially see.
He fucking practically growled, picking the girl up who he’d basically asked to come over so he could use her like a fleshlight, wrapping her legs around his waist, carrying her upstairs and into his bedroom. He swatted a firm hand down onto her ass and listened to her moan out as he grabbed at it under her skirt, not bothering to close his door behind them. No one was home so it didn’t matter.
He quickly got her to the edge of his bed, stripping her off out of the few pieces of clothes she actually was wearing, tossing her pretty blue lace panties into the corner of his room. Not before he brought them up to his face and inhaled them deeply as she leaned forward and sloppily made out with his neck, flicking his tongue over the small wet patch of her arousal he could see darkening them. She wouldn’t be getting those back, that was safe to say. He’d be adding them to the pile of girls underwear he’d started collecting in the last few months which he’d started doing for… reasons.
God, what he’d give to have a pair of your panties, he doesn’t care what colour they are or if they were sexy or not, he just wanted to have something that had been pressed tightly against your cunt all day, soaked with your sweet wetness, something he could sniff and lick at just like he did a moment ago with Claire Whoever's, something he could wrap around his cock and get himself off with whenever he wanted. Or until it was too covered in his cum and he physically couldn’t use them anymore.
He tossed her onto his bed with a bounce, standing at the side smirking down at her as she looked up at him, licking her lips as her eyes hungrily watched him shuffle his sweats off, his cock springing up against stomach and already leaking a little. It was all because of the thoughts of you he’d been having. And maybe also a little because this Claire girl from chem class was actually pretty hot. He got onto the bed in front of her, spreading her legs and holding them apart for him, studying her shaved wet pussy that was spread open wide for him as he hovered over her.
Steve wasn't fussy about pussy hair or the lack thereof, if there was a hole and a clit for him to bully, he really didn't care about anything else. But yours had a tiny patch of hair, perfectly groomed that sat just above your slit. He wondered what it’d feel like against his tongue if he licked that little patch of hair on your cunt. If he’d be able to taste you from it before he’d even dipped his tongue into you.
He heard her whine a little, grinning down at her like she was his prey, rolling her hips towards him ever so slightly. “Keep your legs open for me just like that babe, yeah?” he said as he slipped a hand between her legs and slid his fingers up and down her already soaked slit, teasing her as he watched her whimper and gasp underneath him, leaning down to kiss and bite at her neck, not particularly caring if he was being too hard or not.
She didn’t say anything anyway, she just moaned out so he assumed she was enjoying it. He quickly remembered she was the type to like being used, maybe a little bit of a pillow princess. He wondered if you’d like that too, if you'd just lay there and let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to you, move you around however he wanted to.
“You gonna suck me off like you did last time, baby? I haven’t forgotten what you can do with that fuckin’ throat of yours” he groaned against her neck, licking over the teeth marks he’d just made in her skin. She nodded her head and placed her hands on his shoulders again, which he swiftly grabbed by each of her wrists and pinned above her head, pulling back to look down at her as he used one big hand to tightly bind her wrists together and push them into the mattress a bit more.
“I asked you a fuckin' question. I expect you to answer me, using your words. Or is that too much for your dumb little brain to handle?” he said through gritted teeth, clenching his jaw a little. Safe to say, Steve definitely liked to be the one in control in the bedroom, he liked overpowering girls, making them bend to his will and obey his every command.
“Y-yes daddy” she whimpered pathetically, and she almost sounded just like how he imagined you would if you said the same thing. He chuckled lowly, his cock twitching at what she’d just called him, leaning down and placing his other hand on her jaw, opening her mouth for him as he licked into it and then spat directly on her tongue, watching as she swallowed before shuffling himself up so he was straddling her chest, still holding her wrists in one hand as he lined up his cock with her mouth.
“Thats what I like to fuckin’ hear, atta girl. Now open wide, don’t keep me fucking waiting." he gritted out, watching as she parted her lips and suddenly thrusting his whole length into her mouth, moaning out as he felt her gag around him at the sudden intrusion, but welcoming him in all the same. He fucked her mouth just like that, closing his eyes and pretending it was your mouth he was fucking into instead, feeling her squirm a little underneath him and listening to all the little whimpers and whines coming from her between chokes and gags. He wasn’t exactly quiet either, moaning and groaning without abandon as he pumped himself harshly into her throat.
"Stay still, slut. I'll just fuck harder if you don't stop, leave your throat all bruised from the inside, that what you want, hm?" She sighed a breath through her nose and whined as he said that, stopping her writhing and just laying there, letting him use her mouth for his own pleasure, spreading her legs wider behind him, exposing her pussy to the cool air of his room. Just like he'd wanted.
He continues on like that for a few minutes, until she slaps her hand back on the pillow a few times to let him know she needs some air, pulling out and moving beside her, taking one of her hands and wrapping it around his cock. He moved it up and down, silently instructing her to stroke him, his hand slipping between her legs again and immediately finding her clit, rubbing harsh circles into it for a moment before sliding his fingers down to her entrance and pushing two of his fingers inside her, hearing her moan out his name, not really close to how he’d imagined you would but it would do.
He latched his mouth onto the nipple closest to him and sucked at the peaked bud, licking and slurping at it harshly. He pumped his fingers in and out of her fast and hard, feeling her pussy clench and flutter around his digits, groaning as he made her cum on his fingers after a few short minutes, listening to her moan loudly, calling her a dirty whore and asking her if she liked being used like this, to which she just whimpered and nodded, fucked out and drooling all over herself already.
Steve was too fucking good sometimes. He could have girls squirting with minimal effort sometimes, and yeah maybe he was a little cocky about it. Even if Steve really was only after his own release, he still made sure they had a good time. Good enough they'd come back begging for more and he could have a healthy collection of all kinds of girls he could take his pick from whenever he fancied it.
Soon after, he’s moving between her legs, grabbing both of her calves and pushing her legs right back, her knees almost touching her shoulders. “Think you’re ready for me now, baby. You want daddy’s cock filling you up nice and deep?” he moaned a little, reaching down to position himself at her entrance, not giving her a chance to respond before he was thrusting inside of her and bottoming out immediately.
He didn’t like to waste time with these girls, which is why he immediately got to thrusting inside her, leaning back on his heels as he held her legs up in the air, open wide for him. He listened as she cried out at the stretch of him, grabbing the pillow behind her tightly and screwing her face up as her mouth hung wide open, her tits bouncing obscenely as his balls slapped against her ass with each pump of his hips.
He imagined it was your gorgeous face. Your pretty round tits. You laying on your back underneath him, spread wide for him as he fucked into you faster and harder, groaning and cursing as he watched you lose your fucking mind beneath him, moaning louder and louder with each thrust. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to get lost in it, lost in the feeling of the girls tight cunt swallowing him up, lost in the fantasy of fucking you behind Eddie’s back.
He just had to break you down a little first, get you to the point you couldn’t resist and would just have to fuck him. He saw how you looked at him, how you licked those lips at him and your gaze stayed on him the whole time your boyfriend was railing you against the wall. Through his thoughts, he distantly heard a voice moan something about how his dick was so big and how she was gonna cum again.
“I know baby, I know, s’so big isn’t it? You’re so fucking tight jesus f-FUCK, you like being fucked like this? Like being used and being my little stupid cockwhore y/n? Bet you fucking do, such a slut fucking me while you're with Eddie” he moaned out loudly, not even realising what he was fucking saying. Suddenly the girl beneath him went quiet, but he continued on, still rutting into her, eyes closed tightly as he moaned at the thought of what you’d say back to him, imagining all sorts of filth coming out of your mouth.
“What did you just fucking say?” That wasn’t your voice.
Shit. He looked down at the girl beneath him who was giving him daggers, still fucking her but slowing down a little as he gave her a confused look, shaking his head and panting. “What? Do you not like being called a slut or something? I thought you liked it last time” He honestly couldn’t remember if she did or not, but he started to realise what he’d just said and was trying to cover his own ass.
“No, not that you fucking- get off me!” she said, sitting up and slapping at his chest, shuffling back from him as his cock slid out of her and he sat back on his heels, holding his hands out in front of himself and shaking his head again.
“What are you talking about then?”
“Who’s name did you just fucking say?”
“Yours?”
“You absolutely did not fucking say my name! You said Eddie Munsons girlfriend's name!” she barked at him, looking at him as her face screwed up angrily, her eyes narrowing in on him. “Were you just thinking about her while you were fucking me?!”
“What? I didn’t say her name! You’re fucking hearing shit, you’re that fucked out your making shit up in your head, come on babe, stop being fucking stupid and I can make you cum again and give you a nice big load of my mine” he tutted, sighing out loudly as he tried to reach forward for her, but she slapped his hands away, getting up off the bed as she looked around for her clothes. He watched her as she did so, seeing the glisten of her arousal leak down her thighs a little that he wanted to lick up with his tongue. Shit. He’d fucked up. But he only cared because his dick was painfully hard at this point and he really needed to cum. He reached down and began tugging at himself lazily, watching as she started putting her top on.
“Yes you fucking did. Stop jerking off, jesus christ. I thought you actually liked me, I thought that's why you’d called me and asked me to come over again!” she yelled at him, her expression a little hurt but mostly still angry as she hurriedly shimmied her skirt up her legs to her hips, toeing on her sneakers.
Steve was done with this shit. He fucking hated when girls assumed that they meant more to him than a quick dirty lay. He scoffed a laugh at her, shaking his head as he leaned back on his bed on an elbow, still jerking himself as he smirked at her and moaned out a little.
“Baby, you’re really gonna try that? You knew I was just calling you for a fuck, I already told you before I didn’t want anything serious with you” he chuckled, stroking the remnants of her slick over the head of his cock as he grinned at her, all teeth and sharklike. “Besides, what if I did say her name, hm? Can’t blame me, she’s a real fucking pretty girl. Got a pretty cunt too”
“Yeah, like you’d know, Eddie'd fucking kill you if you went near her so I know you haven't." Steve just shrugged and smirked at her, continuing to jerk at himself as he watched her roll her eyes and scoff at him. Oh if only she fucking knew. "Don’t fucking call me again, Steve. Lose my fucking number in that stupid little phone book of yours!” she yelled out, he could see tears pooling in the corners of her eyes as she stormed out of his room and down the stairs, hearing the front door slam shut as Claire From Chem Class left.
He knew he should feel bad, he’d clearly hurt her feelings. But he really didn’t. He’d literally just wanted to fuck her, dump his cum inside her or over her tits or something and then kick her out anyway.
He shrugged to himself, getting up and going over to the panties that she’d not even bothered to look for, taking them in his hand as he lay back against his headboard, wrapping them tightly around his cock and biting his lip, bucking up into his fist as he continued his fantasies about you, openly moaning your name and other disgusting things, rather than just thinking them, now that he was alone.
“Mmm.. you wouldn’t storm out if I said another girls name, would you baby? No, you wouldn’t, you'd be too fucking cockdrunk and gone for me.. Too fucked out with me licking your cunt, making you cum as many times as I could before splitting you open with my dick, you'd take it all baby, wouldn't you?.."
"I need to fuck you so bad, I don’t care if you have a boyfriend or if he knows or not, I need to be inside that fuckin’ dripping hole, need to feel it for myself.."
"Maybe you'd let me in your ass too, oh god, bet s'just as perfect as your pussy, you gonna show that to me too honey? Come on, spread those cheeks for me and lemme see, oh fuck.."
It wasn’t soon after that he was spilling out into the blue lace snug around his length and his hand, moaning out your name loudly. And it wasn’t the first time tonight he’d cum thinking about you. He had to throw those panties out with how many times he’d jizzed all over them while he thought about you and fucking every hole of yours available to him.
The next day at school, people were definitely talking. And Steve wasn’t sure why. He watched a few people whisper and look at him before quickly averting their gaze when he made eye contact. What the hell? He looked at them all confused, watching as a couple people walked by him and held their heads down, giggling as they did so. He sighed to himself, thinking that Carol was spreading more shit around the school about him.
He’d fucked her a few times behind Tommy H’s back, she’d said she was gonna leave Tommy for him because she loved him, Steve laughed at her and told her not to bother. She obviously didn’t take that too well and ended up making up some.. quite honestly entertaining and colourful rumours about Steve and the kind of things he was into. He’d set everyone straight when he revealed the real reason she’d been talking shit, Carol trying to deny that anything happened between her and Steve, but it was written all over her face.
Tommy dumped her on the spot and she chased after him, begging and crying for him to forgive her, saying that it didn’t mean anything, which is clearly not what she’d been saying before.
So he thought nothing of it, thinking she’d started up her hate campaign again because Tommy still wouldn’t take her back. The old rumours were quickly squashed by some other girls confirming that he definitely wasn’t into what she'd said he was and definitely didn’t have a piss kink. Okay, maybe the last one was up for debate a little, since he really did like it when he had girls squirting all over his hands, his cock or his face and he wasn’t sure if that was practically the same thing or not. He’d have to look into it to be totally sure.
He made his way over to his locker, not paying any more mind to the people around him, mentally shrugging it off since he really doesn’t care at the end of the day. He’ll still The King. He was practically untouchable, really. If he could deal with Billy Hargrove literally trying to dethrone him the minute he got here, and it still hadn’t happened? Then nothing could. He opened his locker and began shoving some random shit in there from his bag, picking up a calculus book that he knew he needed for class this afternoon so he wouldn’t need to come back later.
“HARRINGTON!” Eddie barked, turning the corner and immediately finding the exact fucking gross pervert he’d been looking for. He looked fucking livid, clenching his fists by his side as he stormed up to him, his big boots stomping along the linoleum.
Steve turned his head as he heard the angry voice calling his name, freezing on the spot. He wasn’t scared of Eddie, even if he did look a little intimidating and there were rumours about him being a Satan worshipper and a cult leader because of that little D&D club he ran. But the way he was coming towards him, looking a bit unhinged like was ready to kill someone, did give Steve a slight cause for concern. Shit, had you told him? Had he finally found out that you’d been making eyes at Steve behind his back while he jerked off and watched Eddie fuck you?
“Munson, what can I do for you? You look a bit.. pissed off, but that's nothing new really is it?” he laughed a little, shutting over his locker. He was about to turn around when he felt a hand grab at the collar of his shirt, dragging him along and into the empty classroom that was right across the hall from his locker.
Okay, maybe he was a little scared now.
Eddie threw him into the room and Steve stumbled a little, turning around to fix his shirt and brush himself off as he looked at the tall metalhead who was slamming the door shut and locking it, turning to face him again and slowly stepping towards the slightly shorter boy. Steve wasn’t scared at all now, he was just fucking annoyed. “What the fuck Munson?! Who the fuck do you think you’re laying your hands on?” he said, stepping closer to him and poking him in the chest as he did so.
“Whats this I just fucking heard about you fucking Claire Quinn last night, but moaning my girls fucking name while you were doing her?” he spat confidently, his jaw clenching tightly as he finished his sentence.
"Oh that was her name. Claire Quinn." Steve chuckled a little meanly. "Just had her down as Claire from Chem Class"
Eddie was well known to be protective and possessive over you. He didn’t like any guy looking at you for a little too long or in a certain way, always pulling you closer to him and giving them death stares. Sometimes it’d get the better of him though and he’d get physical with these guys depending on what they said or did. He’d punched Gareth once for saying that he thought you looked nice today. He soon apologised to him, realising that Gareth was actually just being nice. He'd smacked a cafeteria tray across Jason Carvers face once when he smiled at you. He didn't apologise to him.
The random guy that one time in The Hideout who grabbed your ass and said that your boyfriend didn’t need to know about it if you went home with him (when said boyfriend was stood right behind him as he said it) even after you'd told him you really weren't interested, deserved the broken nose, the missing tooth and both of you being banned from coming back for a month. It was worth missing a few gigs to Eddie, to know he’d successfully protected what was his. You’d ridden him in the back of his van 5 minutes later too, so he knew it’d turned you on and you liked it.
Steve just looked at him, blinking at him for a second before he burst out laughing, walking over to a desk and leaning back against it, folding his arms over his chest as he shook his head. “So that's what everyones been talking about huh?” he laughed quietly again, shrugging his shoulders and smirking at Eddie. “And what if I did?”
“Don’t fucking play with me, Steve. I really do not give a fuck who you are around here, I will knock your fucking teeth out if you even think about my girl again” he stepped right up to him, pointing a finger in his smarmy fucking face. Usually people would retreat by now, as soon as Eddie bared his teeth to them.
But Steve wasn’t. He continued smirking at him, keeping eye contact and Eddie was a little intimidated himself. After all Steve Harrington was the most popular guy in school and Eddie was literally fucking getting all up in his personal space right now. He could have Eddie’s life ruined in a simple trip to see Chief Hopper and a few mentions of the illicit substances that Eddie was well known around school to be in possession of at almost all times.
“You know you won’t” Steve grinned at him, licking across his teeth a little. “Come on, what's so bad about me thinking about your girl? I mean… I’ve already seen you two fucking behind the gym block”
The colour drained from Eddie’s face. Looking at him with wide eyes, blinking as he processed exactly what he’d just said. Fuck. Was he lying? No, he can't be. No one knew you had both been there or what you'd done. How much exactly had he seen? He scoffed, shaking his head and throwing his hands up in the air as he turned his back to him, slowly stepping away as he tried to think of what to do here.
He was even more annoyed now, especially since he knows for a fact that Steve had seen you in one of your most intimate moments with Eddie. But he also knew if he did to him what he did to that dude from The Hideout, he’d be immediately expelled and he would never graduate. He really needed that fucking diploma this year, he’d already had a do over. He absolutely couldn't do another.
Steve knew he had too much on the line to try anything, at least in school. But they didn’t really cross paths outside. Not really even at parties, since he usually made some girl get his weed for him, thinking he’d be able to get a discount if he did so. And just purely because he knew he could get certain girls to do anything for him and it amused him. “I mean, your girl totally enjoyed it. Shoulda seen the way she was looking at me, licking her lips and shit while I jerked off, she came quite a lot didn’t she? She ever squirted like that with you before? Nice puddle left behind, I'd have got on my knees and fucking drank it from her cunt if I coulda” he laughed, deciding he wanted to poke the bear a little
That was it. Eddie's vision went completely red, he was suddenly like a bull and Steve was the matador.
He turned around and charged towards him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and slamming his back up against the nearest wall, punching him quickly and getting right into his face, almost touching as Steve laughs in his face with his eyes screwed shut, his nose aching from the ring clad fist that just smacked into it. “Don’t you fucking dare say that shit about her. She’d never do that shit. I fucking know my girl and she’s not fucking like that” he growled at him through gritted teeth, watching as Steve lifted a finger up, swiping the tiny amount of blood dripping from his nostril now and continued laughing in his face.
“I’m serious, ask her. She sat there and watched me and she didn’t say shit to you the whole time, she was fucking loving it to making all those noises for both of us” he said, still chuckling a little as he saw Eddie rear up to punch him again. Okay, time to try and deescalate a bit, he was really pushing his buttons and maybe going a little too far here. “Ask her! Just ask her first before you beat my ass, fuck dude" he laughed loudly again, watching as Eddie leaned back a bit, still keeping him pinned to the wall but lowering his other fist. “I know I'm laughing but I'm deadly serious, you need to ask her about it”
Eddie was still raging inside. But as he thought about it, now he was a little angry at you too, not just Steve. Why hadn’t you said anything to him? You had been the one who was so scared about someone catching you that day. So why hadn’t you said a fucking word to him when Steve had inevitably seen you both? He was a tiny bit hurt too, that you willingly let someone watch you both having sex. Especially Steve Harrington, one of the most attractive guys in school, probably in Hawkins actually. Even Eddie thought so, despite the fact he’d absolutely never admit to it.
He stepped back a bit more, letting go of Steve's shirt as he sighed and rubbed his hand over his face, trying to think of exactly how he was going to ask you about this. Trying to decide how he was going to deal with him, now he didn’t know if he actually had a good reason to be violent like he wanted to be.
“What’s it gonna take for you to leave my girlfriend alone and not look at her or.. Or even think about her anymore?” he asked, rubbing at his stubbly chin and finally looking at the annoyingly handsome brown haired boy who was currently trying to fix himself up a little.
Steve scoffed, shaking his head as he fished out a tissue from his bag. “You’re not gonna fucking like what my honest answer would be to that question, Munson. And I’m not exactly thrilled at the possibility of another knuckle sandwich” he chuckled slightly, finally finding a hanky and wiping his nose with it, shoving it back in his bag and ruffling his hand through his hair.
“Just fucking say it, I really don’t fucking care, you’ve already said enough” Eddie sighed a little defeatedly, shaking his head as he turned his gaze to look out the window, crossing his arms over his chest. He was honestly still trying to process what Steve had just told him.
He really couldn’t get over the thought of you just letting someone perv on the two of you and get off to it, encouraging it. And he was also slightly confused about the fact that he thinks he would have found it hot having someone watch, if you had told him at the time. It made his blood boil and his dick twitch all at the same time. This was definitely something he’d have to unpack later on.
Steve studied him as he leaned back on the desk again, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets, crossing his ankles over one another. He thought about it for a second, whether to actually say it or not. He absolutely didn’t need to think about what he wanted to do to you, what it would take. He’d been thinking about that for a whole fucking week now already since he first saw you both. And he’d always fantasised about you anyway, since he’d never even had a chance to get into your panties.
You’d been inseparable from Eddie since pretty much the first week you’d moved to Hawkins, even if you’d only been friends for a few months before you got together. Eddie had made sure of it that no one even got a look in, since he’d fallen in love with you the moment he saw you.
“I wanna fuck her. That's what it'd take. Just once, and then I’ll leave you both alone. If I happen to catch you guys getting it on again, I’ll walk away. It’ll probably make me stop thinking about her too, it’ll be out of my system or something” He fucking wouldn’t stop thinking about you, he never would. You were literally the one thing he couldn’t ever have and that made you even more desirable to him. And Steve wasn’t one to give up without a bit of a fight to get what he wanted. At least if he got to fuck you, he’d be able to dig up the memories while he jerked off or fucked some other girl.
Eddies head snapped round at him as soon as he said he wanted to fuck you, staring at him in complete fucking disbelief. He burst out laughing and shook his head. “Not a fucking chance in hell, Harrington. You can get that idea so fucking far out of your head” he chuckled, staring the boy down as he licked across his teeth and clenched his jaw again. Who the fuck did this asshole think he was? He’d just punched him in the face for saying shit about you, did he seriously think he’d just give you to him, like he was loaning him a guitar or something, and let him rail you?
Steve shrugged, looking down at his shoes as he toed a scuff mark off the side of one of them. “Then at least let me watch again” he said matter of factly, shrugging as he smirked and looked back at Eddie. “One last time, then I swear I won’t bother the lovely couple ever again” he chuckled, rolling his eyes at how ridiculous that sounded.
Eddie stared at him, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue as he mulled it over. He really fucking didn’t want to let him watch. He didn't want him to see you as you fell apart under Eddie's touch again. But he also kinda really did? Besides, it would be a one off thing. And it’d keep Steve away from you. If you’d really already let him watch before, then he’d already seen everything…
“Okay, fine,” Eddie said quietly, throwing his hands in the air in surrender. “One fucking time. But I swear to god Harrington…” he stalked towards him, pointing a long thick finger at him. Steve wonders if he got close enough if he’d be able to smell you off of his fingers still, from the last time they’d been plunged inside you. “If I even so much as hear a single fucking thing of you saying her name again or talking about her or.. Or.. you even so much as breathing near her.. I’ll do worse than punch you in that big fuckin' nose again"
Steve smirked at him, keeping eye contact as he narrowed his slightly, licking at his lips slowly and not missing the way the tall metalheads eyes linger on them for a second too long. He felt his cock kick up in his jeans at the mere suggestion of seeing you exposed to him again. He’d have to go deal with that before class. He's sure he has a Polaroid or two of Pam in his bag that he stole from her bedroom the last time he fucked her that he could use as quick spank material.
“Deal.” he said, grabbing hold of Eddie's hand and shaking it, startling the long haired boy slightly. “Just let me know where and when, Munson. If that's all and we’re done here..” Steve said, grinning at him as he leaned down and picked up his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder as he patted the metalhead on his own a little patronisingly, making his way over to the door and leaving the room, heading down the hallway to get rid of the now uncomfortable bulge he was packing in his pants.
He had a smug fucking smile on his face the whole way to bathroom, thinking of how he would soon see your perfect body again.
Hopefully you'd love his eyes on you while you're spread out and being made to cum as much as you did last time.
I'd like to thank @elvendria @changemunson and @emsgoodthinkin for their help and encouragement on this chapter. I really REALLY could not have done it without you all, especially Elvendria who had to sit and listen to me have a fucking Menty B over a discord call because of some stuff that's now gonna be in part 3 lmfao.
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#eddie munson#eddie munson stranger things#perv!steve harrington#peeping tom#steddie x reader#steddie x you#steve harrington#steddie smut#steve harrington stranger things#eddie munson smut#eddie smut#part 2#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#steve harrington fan fiction#steve harrington fanfic#steddie#steddie fanfic#steddie fanfiction#perv!steve#eddie munson is not dead#smut fic#smut fanfiction#smut fanfic
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Hi! I really really love how you write for Simon. Like honestly it is so good. I saw that you're taking regular requests right now, so if it's okay could I request some jealous/insecurity headcanons or a oneshot (any format really) for Simon? Like maybe him and the reader are still working toward being more secure but there's still those moments where there needs to be some reassurance and a bit of comfort.
I just loved your cocky!Simon headcanons and I would love to see the progression of him getting to that point if you know what I mean lol.
Also congrats on 1k!! You deserve it!! I love your blog.
Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x gn!reader
Warnings: Fluff, Insecurities, Mentions of Simon’s Trauma, Angst (???) with Comfort
Summary: He just needs a little reassurance sometimes.
A/N: I need to write for Simon more, I miss him!!
Word Count: 1.6K (Edited)
Simon’s been jealous before. Envious being a better word.
He used to be jealous of all the kids who had a loving home to go to. Jealous of peers with perfect parents and perfect siblings. Jealous of all the things he felt like he should have but couldn’t get. But this is a new kind of jealousy, a new insecurity. One so ugly and consuming that he feels particularly shameful of it.
He knows relationships, especially for him, are all about time. Everything is about time. Hell, he spent fucking months trying to come to terms with the fact that he liked you. Spent even more time building up the courage to ask you out on a date and begin a relationship with him. Add on to that the long hiatuses caused by deployment? This whole relationship is a slowly spinning clock.
But he’s here, a newly taken man with the kindest thing on his arm. He should be grateful, and he is grateful! Truely, undoubtedly grateful for the opportunity you have given him. But, he can’t help wanting more. From himself mostly, but also from you. And it frustrates him, frustrates him to no end because he knows he’s the reason why the both of you can’t have more. You have told him countless times, drilling it into his head like a daily affirmation that you’re okay with that. That would wait however long it took for Simon to get the hang of this. To fully comprehend what it means to be yours and how to navigate through it. And he is so blessed to have someone so understanding waiting up on him.
But he sees the difference. Sees the way how natural, how fucking easy it is for you to talk and interact with everyone else. Can see how easy it is for everyone else to interact with you. Things he can’t comfortably do yet. It makes a dark well of hatred form in his stomach because he can't understand why it has to be so hard for him. Why he got the shitty deal of cards, why he got the short end of the stick. He knows, realistically, that it's his fault. So what if his shitty family life and not so glory-filled military career played a part in it? It's still Simon’s own actions at the end of the day.
It’s fucking torture to watch the casual touches everyone lays on you. How easy it is for your friends to playfully shove your shoulder when you tell a joke, how they don’t hesitate to wrap you in a tight hug when you greet them, how they casually rest their chin or head on your shoulder and complain about everything that went wrong today. Fucking hates how confident people are as they try to flirt with you, how they could so easy articulate their attraction towards you in mere minutes when Simon can’t even do it in months. It makes him want to throw himself against a wall until his screwed up head fixes himself.
And you just look so happy. Smiling at your friends and returning the physical touches with ease. Face beaming with joy as you wrap someone in a hug or link their arm with yours. How you just fucking glow at the compliments given to you by your friends or a passing stranger in the street. He wishes so desperately that he could give you that, that he can casually walk into a room and tell you how fucking stunning you look instead of keeping it in his head. Wishes he could casually grab your hand without feeling like his skin was just dipped into a tub of acid. The only thing that keeps him together is your instant dismissal of anyone that tries to flirt with you, a proud look on your face as you say I have a boyfriend.
But he knows that it doesn’t look like it. Not when there is an obvious space between the two of you as you walk together. Not when he doesn’t make a single move to wrap his arm around you in a crowded space so you don’t get separated. He definitely screams boyfriend when he just watches someone come up to you and try to get into your pants instead of marking his claim on you. Safe to say, he doesn’t expect to find a Best Boyfriend Ever mug under the tree during the holidays this year.
He knows it pains you too. Can see it every time you instinctively go to grab him only to stop midway through and you give him a bashful smile. Sees how painfully obvious it is when he comes back from deployment and you and him stand outside the terminal gate awkwardly because you don’t know how to greet him if it isn’t with a tight hug. It’s painted all over your face when the both of you are at a group hangout with friends and you watch with an envious gleam in your eyes how the couples are squished into each other’s sides or sitting in their laps. A sharp pain runs through his chest when he can’t even drape his arm over your shoulders to comfort you. He knows that the small smile you give him when you turn towards him is because you know he won’t, even if he really wants to.
He hates that he can’t give you the simplest of things. Things that are supposed to be so natural in a relationship. Things that were promised to you when he asked you to be his partner. Things that make you so happy. He hates the idea that he’s robbed you of something. That something being a happy and normal relationship. That feeling builds and builds until he’s an insecure mess on your couch as you guys have a movie night.
You’re on opposite sides of the couch, something that makes him want to choke himself out. He’s spread out, arms thrown over the top of the sofa and legs spread. You’re pushed into the arm of the sofa, making sure none of your limbs touch him accidentally. He almost wants to throw up when the actors on screen run into each other’s arms and a small ‘aww’ leaves your lips with a dizzying smile. His hands clench and unclench as the movie ends. You sit up stretching and about to leave for a bathroom break before putting on the next movie when Simon speaks up.
“I’m sorry.”
Your head snaps to him quickly, a confused furrow forming in between your brows. You’re about to open your mouth to question him when he continues, “I’m trying, but…it’s hard.”
It’s not much of a clarification, but you still understand what he’s talking about. A sympathetic smile comes across your face as you approach him. This time, you sit next to him but still not touching him. A tenseness leaves Simon’s body, preferring you close by even if he can’t touch you. You’re fully turned to him, a look of admiration on your face as you study him. The look ignites his soul and that little well of hate dries up the tiniest bit.
“I know you have, and I’m so, so proud of you, Si.” The small tilt of your head and soft smile makes him want to nuzzle his face into your neck and shower you in his own praise. He knows he’s practically glowing from your words, and he can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed.
“Still… I know how happy it would make you. Just… please.” He doesn't know when the lump formed in his throat, but he tries to subtly get rid of it.
The way you melt into the couch also makes him melt into the fabric. The two of you study each other for a moment, taking in each other’s presence. Slowly you get up and Simon moves to get up too, a moment of panic running through his veins before it dies away when you grab his empty mug from the coffee table. You give him another soft smile as you hold the cup tightly in your grasp.
“Of course, Simon. Thank you for trying. Thank you for wanting to try for me. That is what makes me happy”
You leave Simon there, excusing yourself to make him more tea and going to the bathroom. He sits and stares at the TV, a new feeling emerging in his chest. It pushes away the insecurity and that hatred and the jealousy. It expands until his own body is buzzy and a puff of air leaves him. Everything feels lighter, brighter now. This feeling is new. One so beautiful and consuming that he feels particularly at peace with it. Love, he thinks. He thinks it might just be love.
So when you come back to sit at his side, mindlessly blowing at the surface of his cup of tea before giving it to him, he lets the tips of his fingers purposely brush over yours. He holds your gaze, making sure you know it wasn’t an accident. A beaming smile forms on your face and he feels a smaller one form on the rim of his mug. He turns away then, sipping on his tea as you look for the next movie to put on.
He doesn’t touch you again that night. But it still made all the difference. That one, singular touch was worth everything.
The next night, he comes back to your apartment and stares down at the new mug that greeted him when he opened the cabinet. His finger rubs against the printed words with a lovesick smile.
Best Boyfriend Ever.
I ♡ Simon Riley mug when???
#ghost call of duty#ghost cod#call of duty#cod ghost#ghost mw2#simon ghost riley#simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x you#cherry's requests🍒
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#! — I THINK I DESERVE A KISS | w/ SKZ
pairing. OT8!skz + gn!reader
genre. fluff, slightly suggestive on Changbin's and Jisung's part, mentions of food.
warnings. mentions of food.
wc. 2.5k
synopsis. scenarios where the phrase above is used, enjoy
... ♡ | bang chan — in his studio!
“Guess who.” you whispered in Chan’s ear as you covered his eyes with your hands.
He quietly chuckled, which made your smile turn even brighter than before, and hummed, pretending to think, “Mmmh…” he reached up with his hand and slowly traced your fingers, “Bin?” he inquired, and you scoffed.
“Beeep! Wrong.” you said, sliding the palm of one of your hands to cover both of his eyes and let your other hand pinch his cheek before sliding it down his left bicep, squeezing it.
He leaned his head back on the edge of his seat’s headrest, “Wait, is it…” he bit his bottom lip, trying to hold back a snicker, “...my beautiful, amazing and absolutely perfect partner?” he asked, knowing full well how much compliments flustered you.
Your cheeks heated up, “That’s not fair! Why you gotta do this every time?” you whined as you moved your hands away from his face to cover your own.
He chuckled and spun around on his chair, pulling you down on his lap and softly kissing your hair, “I’m only telling the truth, love.” he hugged you, softly stroking your sides before his lips broke in a wide smile, “I think I deserve a kiss now, though.” he teased, and you felt your heart flutter when he gently pulled you closer as he puckered his lips.
And, with a shy smile, you leaned in, sealing your first kiss with your boyfriend.
... ♡ | lee minho — at home!
You let out a long sigh the moment you stepped in your home— the eventful, very long and stressful day finally wrapping up brought a small smile to your face, and the happy meowing of your three cats rubbing their fluffy heads on your feet and calves widened your smile even more, “Hi, babies.” you muttered, petting each of them on their heads before removing your coat and stepping further into your apartment.
That was when your nose picked up the most scrumptious smell your nose had ever picked up, coming from the kitchen, “Weird. Wasn’t Min supposed to come home late today?” you mumbled as you walked into the lit room, just to find your husband chopping up some green onions on the wooden cutting board, locking eyes with you when he heard your steps.
“Hi.” you smiled, and he mirrored it.
“Hi, jagi.”
You looked at the pots and pans on the stove with a curious look, “What are you making?”
“Your favorite. From your texts today, I guessed you were feeling pretty down, so I came home early to make dinner for us.” he explained, now chopping up some mushrooms.
You gazed at him as you pouted, “You’re so sweet.” you whined, back hugging him and pecking the nape of his neck, making him chuckle.
He looked back at you, smirking, “I think I deserve a kiss then, right? On the lips this time.” and you obliged.
... ♡ | seo changbin — at a restaurant!
“Your puppy eyes won’t work on me this time, get it?” your boyfriend grumbled as you sneakily rested your hand over his with an overexaggerated pout.
“Come ooooon… Please?” you whined while squeezing his hand, trying not to make a scene— after all, he’d brought you to a fancy restaurant for your first anniversary that was just slightly out of Seoul, and you didn't want to embarrass him or yourself in front of strangers, “Why won’t you share?” you frowned, and he huffed, taking a spoonful of the most delicious looking ice cream you’d ever seen in your entire life, which made your mouth water.
“You said that none of the desserts inspired you! It’s not— hmpf, my fault!” he said with his mouth full, scrunching his eyebrows as he munched.
You glared at him, “Okay, but those fancy names need to be paraphrased or something— how could I have ever guessed that Knickerbocker Glory was literally fruit with ice cream on top? Or that Nipples of Venus were chocolate truffles? How is that my fault? You didn't even tell me what those were, li—” you rambled, and he rolled his eyes, sliding the ice cream cup towards you with an annoyed look.
“Here, but I’m doing this just because I love you.” Changbin stated, leaning back on the backrest of his chair as he crossed his arms over his big chest.
Your eyes lit up and you immediately grabbed the cup before he could change his mind, “THANK YOU, BABY! I love you so so so much!” you said excitedly as you took a spoonful of ice cream and ate it, humming at how delicious it was.
He smiled fondly at your reaction, “I think I deserve a kiss for my kindness, to be honest.” he leaned over the rather small table while tapping his fluffy cheek with his index, which brought a smile to your face.
You leaned in and pecked it with your cold lips, “Oh, you’re so getting much more than a kiss after we get home.” you whispered in his ear, making their tip go completely red as he nervously cleared his throat and adjusted the tie around his neck.
... ♡ | hwang hyunjin — at home!
Pampering your boyfriend was your love language, and the thing you loved most was doing his skincare routine— putting on his delicate features masks, creams and oils felt therapeutic to you; seeing the way he relaxed under your touch as you conversed about pretty much anything that came to mind was your favorite part of the day.
So, when while having an early dinner he asked you if he could do your skincare routine, you bit your lip nervously and shyly agreed, though you felt slightly uncomfortable. “Y/N.” Hyunjin called out to you, so you opened your eyes and looked up at him, who was leaning over your less than relaxed figure on the couch, “If you don’t want me to do your skincare, you can just say so. I can feel how tense you are.” he said with worry in his voice and face, running his long fingers in between your locs gently.
You panicked, “No! I want you to! I just… I’m not used to people doing stuff for me. That’s it.” you smiled reassuringly and cupped his cheek with your hand.
Hyunjin smiled, “You better get used to it, then.” he said, before quickly pecking your lips and starting to apply a face mask on your face with his finger pads.
His touch was so tender you'd fallen asleep, lulled by his soft humming and the quiet lofi music he’d started playing on his speakers as he waited for the cream to dry out on your skin before continuing on with the other steps. When he finally completed your nighttime skincare routine about an hour later, he gently nudged you awake, showing you a toothy grin, which you mirrored, “I think you deserve a kiss after being this good for me.” he murmured, placing a long peck on your lips.
... ♡ | han jisung — at his dorm!
Spending the entire weekend with Jisung meant eating trash food, barely getting out of his bedroom and binge watching, and finishing, a series or anime you'd started together the week prior— and you absolutely loved it, because it meant kissing and cuddling him until one of you eventually fell asleep, which, most of the times, happened to be you.
“Baby!” he excitedly said as he squeezed the life out of you with a hug as soon as you’d walked in his dorm, which you had all to yourselves for the entire weekend, “I missed you.” he mumbled in your hair while his hand rubbed your back lovingly.
“Missed you too, Ji.” you said with a big smile, leaving a warm kiss on his cheek, which actually reminded him—
“Ah! By the way, I think I deserve a kiss on the lips now. I’ve been a very good boy.” he puckered his lips out and leaned down, waiting for your lips to meet his.
You frowned and pressed your fingers over his mouth, gently pushing him back, “Why? What did you do?” you inquired, tilting your head.
He huffed and stroked your waist as he explained, “I’ve held out from continuing to watch Demon Slayer without you, since you couldn't come last week.” he proudly said and puckered his lips out once again— but you scoffed.
“Okaaay? And? That was the bare minimum, we started watching it together, may I remind you.” you tisked, and his grip around you loosened, his eyes clouding over with sadness as he walked away.
You immediately felt guilty, “Awww, come on Ji, I’m sorry.” you started following him towards the kitchen, where he was silently heading to, “Here, baby. I’ll kiss you, you’ve been a great boy.” you whined as you took a hold of his arm and pulled him towards you, grabbing his face between your hands while you locked eyes with him, which, surprisingly, held a mischievous glint.
“I knew you wouldn't be able to resist my charm.” he teased, dipping his head down to kiss you as he pushed you against the kitchen counter.
... ♡ | lee felix — at home!
“Bubs, I’m home.”
You pouted as you slowly opened your eyes, pretty much convinced it was the dream you had every time you particularly missed Felix while he was away on tour, focusing your gaze on his kneeled down, smiling figure in front of you. “Go away.” you murmured at your boyfriend, who immediately stopped stroking your cheek.
Felix’s smile faltered and his eyes clouded over with worry, “What? What did I—” he tried to say, but you interrupted him by rolling over on your other side, now facing the backrest of your couch, a light sniffle leaving your body.
“I know you’re just an imaginary Felix, stop playing with me.” you muttered, having had enough of your dreams where he magically came back early from tour, making you feel ecstatic and happy, just to wake up the next day with no Felix in sight, making you feel even more miserable and lonely.
“Imag— What?” he blinked rapidly, trying to piece everything together— until, he let out a hearty laugh, making you puff out your cheeks and cross your hands over your chest. Still in a fit of laughter, he stood up just to lean down behind you on the couch, sneaking a hand on your stomach and slowly rubbing it, his low giggles reverberating on your back, “Bubs, I’m very much real.” he whispered in your ear, gently biting your lobe and pinching your tummy.
Oh. My. God. You felt pain. That— he was NOT, in fact, a dream.
You gasped and suddenly turned your body to face him, engulfing him in a tight hug as you pressed warm kisses on his collarbones and neck, his chuckles and soft rubs on your back making you finally feel at home, “I think I deserve a kiss after the mini heart attack you just gave me.” Felix giggled, rubbing your nose with his before crashing his lips against your own.
... ♡ | kim seungmin — at home!
You sprung up the couch when the doorbell of your apartment suddenly rang, though you weren't expecting anyone, “Coming!” you yelled, quickly running over to the front door.
As you always did, you took a glance at the peephole, widening your eyes when you noticed what it was. Your heart picked up its pace as you opened the door, “Flower delivery!” a man said with a big, very customer-service, smile as he held the most beautiful bouquet of flowers you’d ever seen.
“Woah, are these for me?” you asked with surprise in your voice, pointing to the flowers.
The delivery man tilted his head, looked at the small piece of paper he was holding in his free hand, then at the name stamped under your doorbell and, finally, at you, “Are you Mx. Y/L/N Y/N?”
“Yes?”
“Then yes. Have a nice day!” he said in a cheery tone as he stretched out his arms towards you to give you the bouquet, which you happily took with a smile and a fast paced heartbeat.
You walked back inside of your flat, careful not to trip over anything on your way to your living room windowsill, where you kept an empty flower vase in case you saw any cute flowers while out on a walk and felt the need to bring them back home, which happened regularly. You giggled as you carefully put the bouquet inside of it, your eyes never leaving the small piece of paper that stood proudly right in between the petals that said “For my beautiful flower. —Minnie <;33”
You internally screamed from happiness, picking up the white paper giddily and flipping it over, but rolled your eyes after reading “I think I deserve a kiss after being the bestest and most romantic boyfriend ever, don’t you think?”
“Come home, bestest boyfriend ever.” you texted him a few seconds after with a big grin on your face.
... ♡ | yang jeongin — at the arcade!
“I want that one, Innie!” you said excitedly when Jeongin asked you which of the big stuffed animals you wanted him to win for you, pointing to the massive teddy bear standing right in the middle of the cubicle of the claw machine. He gulped nervously, taking one of the arcade tokens you’d exchanged for money a few minutes ago from his front pocket.
He glanced at you, his heart fluttering when you smiled widely at him and said “I believe in you, Innie!” in tiny, with your fist up in the air— in full cheerleader mode.
What he didn't expect, was for that damned teddy to not want to get caught by him, which made him feel extremely embarrassed— but, when he failed at his fourth attempt and you proposed to him to go play another game with a reassuring smile and a warm hand on his shoulder, he felt recharged. “Wait, Y/N-nnie! Let me try again one last time, I’ll win, you’ll see!” he said confidently, rolling up his long sleeved shirt to his forearms, which made your cheeks warm up.
And, a few seconds later, the teddy finally let itself get caught by Jeongin, who proudly handed it to you, “See? Easy peasy lemon squeezy.” he grinned, showing you his foxy eyes and white teeth.
You chewed your bottom lip, looking into his dark eyes, “I think… Uhm, I think you deserve a kiss for winning it for me?” you said, unsure if he was down for it. After all, that was your first date and—
“I— Uh. Yes, I— I think I do deserve a kiss.” he smiled shyly and took your free hand in his, rubbing the back of it with his thumb as he cupped your cheek with his other one. You gulped and moved your gaze from his eyes to his parted lips quickly, tugging his hand as a signal for him to lean down and finally take the kiss he deserved.
please reblog, comment and like, feedback is very much appreciated, plus, I love reading your thoughts!
→ masterlist.
taglist: @strayingawayy
© SVNGIEM, 2023.
#stray kids imagines#skz imagines#skz fanfic#stray kids scenarios#stray kids x reader#skz scenarios#skz x reader#stray kids fanfic#kpop imagines#stray kids soft hours#skz soft hours#stray kids soft thoughts#skz soft thoughts#fluff scenarios#stray kids fluff#felix fluff#seungmin fluff#skz fluff#hyunjin fluff#minho fluff#chan fluff#bang chan fluff#changbin fluff#han jisung fluff#jisung fluff#jeongin fluff#kpop fluff#skz#stray kids#kpop bg
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Sarahs teacher ༊*·˚
pairing: no breakout!Joel x fem reader
Summary: Joel saves you from a uncomfortable interaction with a drunk, and it quickly devolved with him fucking you in a single stall at the bar. Though when you see the little drawings his daughter leaves in his car, you peice together your connection only after it's too late.
Content warning: 18+ NSFW, age gap, grey hairs so hes about that old, picture part 2 joel cause he's the sexiest, also this outfit he has on is pretty acruate to how I pictured him while writing, hair pulling, p in v, creampie, surface level degrading (slut, whore), praise degrading (pretty slut), pet names (darling, sweetheart, baby), southern hospitality!, crazy confident and blunt, breif harassment (not by joel), biting, leaving a mark, dom!Joel, sarah mentioned/met
word count: 4.4k
masterlist
inspired / requested by this wonderful anon!
Clanging of glass against wooden tables, the saturated musk of whiskey and heated bodies overwhelms your senses as you walk within the bar.
You watch as men raise voices in argument over games blaring on TVs hung high over the center of the room, feeling eyes trace your shape as you make your way to the counter.
“Just water for now, please.”
The bartender obliged, and as you sit down upon old wooden barstools with short backs to provide minor support to your height off the ground, a pair of eyes seems to fall on you that feels a bit more welcomed than those prior.
Hair fell long right above his eye, salt and peppered hair that was well groomed though currently unkempt in a way-- as though the day had been long on him. Multicolored stubble compliments the smirk of the man that gazed upon you with dark brown eyes hooded by thick lashes. His skin was tanned, and complemented greatly by the dark brown of his jacket coupled with the muted greens of a flannel below it. He had his sleeves rolled up, seeing both his elbows placed on the counter as a glass of whisky was held lightly between a few fingers over the cup just a few inches from his face did he soak in every part of you with his gaze.
His eyes resting on yours set your body aflame, the confidence of his intent made you compelled to want to let him do whatever he wished. A man probably twice your age, like a fine wine did he fire off nerves within you that even men you adored couldn't properly emulate. He was experienced, cocky. He wasn't shy about getting what he wanted like most men your age, and that felt new to you.
You were getting ahead of yourself, within the few seconds that held eye contact between you and this stranger you felt an eternity of lust seep deep in the pits of your stomach. There was no means to even believe that was his intent, the most you can really give yourself was the complement of his elongated gaze affixed on you. But after a few moments his eyes tore away and engaged in what played on the TVs, and watched as the people went by. Leaving you to yourself for a moment to yearn for him, after so much as a glance.
…
“This drink came from the man right down there.”
What sat before you was some sort of vodka tonic, and as your head moved to glance upon that stranger once more with a welling of anticipation for his next move, a different hand shot out and waved to claim that prize. Your heart sank. Some 20 something stood to approach you, a hat upon laid back hair that sported some football team you knew nothing about, and the careful steps of a man trying to impress whilst also being a few drinks in. he slides up tho the empty space on the counter next to you, and elbow propped against your side to lean in, does the stench of cheap liquor and sweat permeate your senses as he begins to talk to you.
“Mm, what's your name, pretty lady?”
A scoff quietly escapes you as the slur of his words make any attempt at flattery obsolete.
“What's it to you?”
Brows furrow at the harsh response to his kind gesture, he retorts;
“Well I just bought you that drink didn't i? Don't I deserve a little somethin?”
A little something what do you look like? A hooker?
“You don't deserve a damn thing. I didn't ask for this cheap thing.”
He leans in a bit closer to you, closing the gap of space between your body and his as you grow increasingly uncomfortable with his advances with no way out.
“Oh come on don't be like that, listen, how about we get a few more and you can join my buddies over there. We’ll have fun.”
Slowly you move yourself away from his body inching closer to you,
“No, I think I'm good where I'm at.”
He grabs your wrist as you try to leave, with the untamed grip of a man not wholly sober and increasingly offended;
“Oh don't be like that, are you even here with everyone? You’re just asking for attention.”
A new voice chimes in from behind the both of you.
“Now, the lady said she don't want anythin to do with you. Aint no sense in tryna force her, especially if you want to keep that nose of yours unbroken. Ya understand me boy?”
The stranger from earlier, carrying deep southern drawl and a sternness in his voice comes to you like a guardian angel. He looms over the short heighted man in comparison, with an air of dominance and intimidation that supersedes anything that that could have done in comparison.
“You didn't tell me you were with someone. I.. I'm sorry sir.”
His voice shrinks at the sight of conflict with him, he turns to you then to him for apology, before scampering off to his friends with a tail between his legs.
The man turns to face you now, dwarfing you in his shadow as he looks at you. There's a kind smile in his eyes, with a soft smirk on his lips as he goes to take the place of the man before him.
“I'm sorry that man was bothin ya darlin’. Aint no way to treat a lady like you.”
your ears perk up at that final part-- a lady like you. You feel flush at his flattery, giving a moment to shift your body closer to his ever so slightly to lean into his words.
“A lady like me hm? And what does that mean?”
Once again he doesn't properly cower at the confrontation of very bold flirting -- you can tell this isn't his first time playing this kind of game. And you were more than glad to play along.
“Well, just mean a lady pretty as you, that's all.”
Coy smile coats his face as he takes another sip of his drink.
“Oh well, thank you sir. Can't say it's every day a handsome man like you comes to my rescue.”
Sir. his eyes flick up from his drink to the sound of that, and you notice this time.
“No bother, names Joel.”
Joel. Where have I heard that name before?
“Ahh, well, sir Joel, I'll be heading to the bathroom for a bit. Think you'll still be here when i'm back?”
You hop out of your chair, brushing off and readjusting the dress you wore as you centered yourself on the floor once more.
“Mm I'm sure I will sweetheart.”
He smiles as his drink is raised to his lips once more from hovering fingers over it's top, he sends you off with a wink and the knowledge that as you walk away he gets a greater view of the body he could only see from across the bar.
…
Knock knock
“I'm in here.”
In a single stall are you leaning over a metal sink to correct makeup and hair in the mirror of the bathroom. You didn't need to use the bathroom, just needed to fix your makeup if you thought you could have any more confidence with Joel.
Knock knock knock
“Dude- i'm fucking in here.”
You go to open the door and chew out whoever was pounding on the door, like there weren't other stalls to use. Though as you crack open the side of it you see Joel standing before you, before quickly pushing his way inside it as well. Turning you around does he pin you against the wall adjacent to the door itself.
“Listen here darlin’. I wont play coy, there aint nothin I want to do to you more right now then to have ya all to myself. I cant fuckin stand it.”
His hand lays flat on your shoulder as it pushes you against the wall, the other hand making its way to cup your jaw. His calloused fingers stroke your cheek as you stand there speechless.
“Use your words baby. Come on, I know you fuckin want it.”
“Y-- yes sir. I…I wouldn't mind”
You stammer out a weak consent that seems to be the only thing that can come to mind as you grow intoxicated by his scent, his aura. Whisky coats his breath as he looms over you, the smell of his cologne masking scents of sawdust and tobacco as you feel his heat on you with how close he stands to you.
“Good.”
His lips smash into yours, feeling his tongue immediately trying to invade every part of your mouth, taste every last drop of your spit as though he was addicted to it. His hands trail up and down your body as his fingers pay no regard to the loose fabric that made up your dress. Gripping your waist he let up from your kiss, turning you around to face the mirror that was just moments ago used as a means to fix your makeup, now you found yourself pushed down onto the cold metal of the sink that still held your eye makeup and brushes. His hands traced all up and down your back as though he was worshiping the body below him, standing right at your backside you could feel his bulge growing from the inside of his worn jeans.
Fuck hes big.
His body falls to cup yours, fully clothed does the request become but a low whisper deep in your ear as his hand trails up your neck to your hair, pulling it back as your back arches to compliment the placement of his bulge.
“Good girl. Now don't you look so pretty?”
He refers to the mirror in front of you, and as you gaze at yourself within it you see hairs falling in front of your face, as arms twice as large as yours grip onto your hair to force your face to look directly within the mirror. You look at him, watching as his face contorted into what looked like a proud lion with his fresh prey. His smirk was selfish, and the way he looked at your body made you feel naked. Undressing what was left of you with his eyes, he didn't leave any more room for imagination as he let up from you for a moment to unbuckle his belt. Watching as the jeans fell to the floor with a heavy clunk, and all that remained was his boxers that swiftly followed. You couldn't see his cock, but as he grazed it along your folds you could just feel how much there was.
“Now ain't that a sight. All this ‘cause of me hm? Gotta say I'm honored.”
He pushes your panties down, a trail of your own slick following suit that leaked down your thigh unabashedly. You feel a heavy hand pressed down onto your back.
“Arch your back for me darlin’.”
And as you do so, you feel him grab your ass, slapping it and pulling it apart to look at your heat before you could feel his tip directly at your entrance. He lets it linger for a moment, cupping himself to you slightly and brings your hair back to look at the mirror once more.
“Look how pretty of a fuckin’ slut you are baby. Absolutely drenched for my cock, you better take it good alright? I'm not here to play nice with ya’.”
You nod your head as much as you could in understanding before you felt him piercing you. It was so much, too much. You felt as though you were going to be split open entirely as the first pulse he did in you felt as though he’d never reach the base. As he grew to be halfway inside of you you felt full to the brim, biting your lip with closed eyes to try and take it all without a whine.
You feel a jerk of your hair as he went deep into you. You felt his body flush against yours but with eyes closed he yanked your neck up to look at him.
“Don't close your eyes, baby. I want you to look at me.”
A steady pace was founded soon after, feeling him go in and out of you elicited timed whines and moans, your brain felt as though it was melting in a way, the only thing that your body could think of as every pounding force inside of you made your nerves shoot off and you felt it everywhere in your body. Down to your fingers was the sense of taking in every vein, every curve, every little inch of his cock as it used you like you were some toy.
Your fingers fall to your own clit, desperate to cum on his cock already do you draw circles over your own throbbing parts, as your mind grows numb at the feeling of the two combined. Though Joel is quick to notice.
“Do you want to fuckin’ cum for me darlin’? Come on now all ya gotta use is your words and I can do all that for you. You're mine right? My pretty little slut.”
His free hand snakes over your thigh to find your fingers, pushing them aside as his calloused fingers match the same motion you had just done but with greater intensity. Your whole body is at his disposal, feeling nothing but the pleasure he's giving you, your hands grasp at nothing to try and stabilize yourself against his cock. Looking at the mirror he forces you to watch as he groans over you, watching the sweat drip off his hair down onto his chest as he grows less and less controlled in his movements. You watch as your own face pathetically contorts into inexplicable pleasure, you are addicted to him. The way his cock feels inside of you, his fingers on your clit. You feel your heat building up in your stomach quickly, a flame sweltering in your stomach that was going to peak at any moment.
“God-- fuck Joel, i’m going to cum. Oh my god--”
You feel yourself contract on top of his cock, your insides desperately wrapped around him as you finish. your legs shake but as he presses himself into you even more you cant move almost anywhere.
“Fuck you feel so good, god-- so fuckin’ good i'm--”
His fingers still trace a sensitive clit as your body moves involuntarily to the rhythm of his cock inside of you, your body completely overwhelmed as he finishes inside of you after only a few more strokes, you feel a heat fill deep inside of you. Keeping it in for a second does the excess of his finish seep out of the edges of you, trailing down your leg onto the floor.
Jagged breath fills the air that was once filled with groans and whimpers, shallow breaths to try and come back to reality fill your lungs as you lay against the counter ever still. You listen as Joel adorns his jeans once more, looping the belt into propper hole before grabbing paper towels from the nearby dispenser. His hands travel down the side of your leg where you and him mixed together in remis of pleasure and slowly takes the dry towel to it, mopping up all that he left on you.
“Here ya go darlin’. Now, turn ‘round for me.”
Waiting as you turn slowly, your body just getting in tune with being able to move on it's own again you face him. A face covered in sweat, hair stuck to his face he still looked enchanting. He takes you in, a look of yearning and hunger still coated his eyes as he looked you up and down.
“This’ll only hurt for a second sweetheart.”
His fingers move the straps of your dress to your shoulders, moving them down to expose your chest. Bending down does he place small kisses on your chest, but before you could question it you felt his teeth sink into your chest. Sucking with intent to leave a mark, shallow pants meet fingers through his hair as you whine softly. Soon his lips let up, and a wet mark along your chest remains.
“Didn't want ya to forget me too quickly. Just say this is a little reminder of me.”
Joel smiles at you, a wink following his brazen claim on your body well after tonight somehow made you more attracted to him. There was something so matter of fact, demanding about him. He just took whatever he wanted and it had just happened to be you. The perfect combination of southern charm and degradation was enough to fuel you for a lifetime off this very night.
He opens the door for you as you exit, following you out swiftly after does the walk to the general bar feels like your own walk of shame in a way. But were you really ashamed? They all knew what had just transpired, but part of you was proud of it. Joel certainly was.
“You got any ways of gettin’ home sweetheart?”
His voice inquired from behind you, making you turn to face him once more as more proper light shone on him giving him even greater features to be enamored by.
“Oh well, my place is around a 20 minutes walk from here, so that's how I got here.”
His brows furrowed at that notion, though it's better than any alternative of driving here with the intent of getting drunk.
“Seems like I'll be takin’ you home then. You want anything before take ya?”
“What? No- you don't need to take me home. It's such an inconvenience and-”
“Listen sweetheart. It wouldn't be right of me leavin’ you hear all by yourself after all we just did. It's only proper.”
You acquiesce. He does make a good point, and as he opens the door for you once more he leads you to his old truck, the seats smell of wood and coffee and you survey the insides to see a small drawn picture of what seemed to be him and a small girl upon his dash. A medium of crayon depicted two simple figures holding hands under a sun.
“I didn't know you were such an artist Joel”
You nudge him, teasing him about the photo briefly.
“Now, you know I didn't do all that. Was my girl Sarah, made it when she was about 5 I think. Shes my whole world that little girl.”
His smile lit up at the mention of his daughter, one that left you a bit dumbfounded because you didn't expect him to be a proud father given his introduction but you had no doubt he was a good one nonetheless.
The drive home was slow but soothing, low country music played on his CD player as he drove down the road to your apartment. And as you signified to him which one was your place he pulls off to the side and drops out of the truck before you. Opening the door for you does he lead you out and to your door, with a kind farewell that despite all his degradation can never override his innate hospitality. Bidding you farewell as he leaves back into his truck, there's no part of you that feels as though you’ll ever see him again. But for a hookup, it's the nicest way you’ve ever been treated after. By a longshot. You won't be quick to forget him, with or without his hickey.
…
School bells ring in your ears as you stand atop a small ladder that gets you to the top of the ceiling to tack on the final decoration for your parent-teacher night. It’d been over a week since you’d met Joel, and as the Friday before a long weekend creeps up on you the last thing you need to do is go through a line of parents and hope none of them have bad things to say about you. You fancied yourself a very good 7th grade teacher, with some of the children within your grade holding bright futures ahead of them. Specifically Sarah, not only was she a rising athlete but she was incredibly academically gifted. The anticipation to meet her parents grew purely out of curiosity, on what kind of scholars they were to raise such a well behaved child.
Parents began to pour in before too long, the clock ticking from 4 to 6, conversation over conversation about the behavior of students, curriculum taught, and teaching philosophies wore you out by the time there was a little less than 30 minutes left of the window to greet parents.
A clock shining at 6:16 made you feel as though your day was done, no real stragglers came in at the last 15 minutes, and as you finished up with the ones who came in the last 30, you began to relax at your desk for a moment.
Until, of course, you see the thick curly hair of a certain sarah enter your classroom. You felt rejoiced, noting that if you had to deal with anyone, it’d gladly be her and her parents. Though as you watched with a smile on her face as she walked in it was soon no longer matched by you once you saw who her father was.
Alone in the classroom did you stand across from Joel, whose daughter he held softly by her shoulder. your heart sank.
What are the fucking odds?
His usual confident demeanor was completely wiped by what seemed to be genuine shock at the sight of you.
“I'm sorry we’re so late miss, dad always works super late so I can never come as early as I want. This is my dad, Joel!”
Thats where I knew his fucking name from.
Sarah breaks the silence with apology on his behalf, followed by an introduction as you slowly lower yourself within your seat once more and usher them to sit across from you.
“Oh- oh, there's no worries. There's still time before we technically finish, so I'm more than glad to see you Sarah.”
Your conversational tone is light, you keep eyes on Sarah while trying to talk to her about school and life, hearing about her new position on the soccer team is the only thing keeping you sane as the same musk you tasted down your throat is sitting right across you once more.
Sarah's eyes darted over to the entrance to the classroom, spotting what seems to be one of her friends who also arrived quite late.
“Oh-- dad. Dad, I'm going to go say hi to my friend. Can I go? Please?”
“No sarah, you’ve gotta stay right here.”
A diversion of eye contact with you that put all eyes on a whining sarah led you to chime in at the sight of her dismay,
“Oh it's alright, there's a few things i’d like to speak to you about anyways.”
She darts away without a second thought, taking your word more to heart than her own fathers.
So there you two are sat-- eyes locked in on one another as you watch Joel's demeanor falter. He’s barely the man you met at the bar, all semblance of confidence gone to be replaced with a much more sheepish embarrassment at the face of his daughter being directly connected to his hookups.
“So, Mr. Miller then is it?”
You take this as a means to taunt him.
“Funny seeing you here isn't it? Your daughter is exceptional, I'll give you that. But doesn't every day something like this happens does it?”
He clears his throat, arms crossing as he lies back slightly upon the chair.
“Now, I mean no disrespect here but you can’t be tauntin’ me like this darlin’. Taking everythin in me to not pin you over that desk just like I did before.”
Your cheeks grow red and flushed. He wasn't sheepish, he's holding back. If it wasn't for his daughter being right down the hall he’d probably already have you wrapped around his cock again.
Silence consumes you two once more as you feel your words choke in the back of your throat, you don't have a proper response to something so brazen but his eyes read yours and he makes it clear you needn't say anything at all.
“Listen sweetheart, if I spend another minute in here with you you’ll probably wanna shut that door and hope no one comes a knockin. So I'll save you the trouble. How’s about you give me your number, and I'll make sure to find time to see you again.”
You scramble for pen and paper to give him what he wants, you now sheepishly handing him your number as you watch him rise from the seat and straighten himself.
“Was meanin’ to do this last time. I ain't felt anything as good as you for as long as i can remember. Usually I wouldn't do this, bein’ sarah's teacher and all, but hope you can understand that I can’t resist another night with you.”
He grabs the paper from trembling hands, feeling his calloused fingers graze yours once more, shooting a shock of nerves to heat up your lower stomach from a mere touch.
“I’ll see ya around darlin’.”
A wink and a smile are the last thing you see of him before he takes himself to your door, disappearing as you hear a group of young girls as he walks into the hallway all clamoring something about Sarah as he takes her home.
You’re left sitting in an empty classroom once more, a clock shining at 6:28 as your cue to leave is imminent. But as you look around you, all you can see is Joel. Every place you look there you are pinned against it with a skirt ridden up and cock shoved inside of you. Even in the empty space in the middle of the classroom you see your knees bare against linoleum as his hands grip your hair and guide it up and down him. You yearned for him, you needed him.
A text chime snapped you out of your trance.
“5pm, tomorrow. I’ll pick you up.”
And it seems like he needed you too.
“And wear what you wore today, I want to take it off of you myself.”
#joel x reader#joel smut#joel miller x reader#joel fanfic#joel#joel tlou#joel miller#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro x reader
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