#(pls no one hate me for this or if you do pls do it quietly and far away from my inbox)
Note
as an avid stevie harrington (cis or trans i love BOTH) fan!! idk why i never asked how you feel about it??
you have some amazing steddie ideas and i’m curious if you ever thought about eddie and stevie’s dynamic and what ideas you might stirred in that little mind of yours! 💚
hello again lovely! 🤍
stevie harrington, you ask? love to see her thrive, love everything about her, she deserves the whole entire world and more. unfortunately for me, though, i can’t really read or write or even look at anything about her without some bad-weird gender fuckery happening inside my brain — alas, i am not ready yet for the magnificence that is stevie harrington 😔 maybe some day!! 🤍
#stevie harrington#transfemme steeb is unfortunately not for me yet 😔 but i love everything about her and those who make her thrive#(pls no one hate me for this or if you do pls do it quietly and far away from my inbox)#and cis gender swap has just never been up my alley idk hdhdh
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LACY (p. jay)
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
includes: oral (f receiving), fingering, crying, insecurities, soft dom! jay, praising, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, hate comments
word count: 3.4k
synopsis: 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘱 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, 𝘫𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘩
guts event masterlist ⋆♱✮♱⋆ main masterlist
Looking at your phone makes you want to throw up.
“out of literally everyone he pulls… that? gotta be a joke”
“jay deserves sm better”
“if that thing got a chance with him that means i’d be unstoppable”
“pls tell me this is a joke”
“girlie gotta have a crazy head game cuz ain’t no way lmfao”
As if you don’t feel bad enough about yourself already.
Ever since the photo of you and your boyfriend coming back from a date leaked to the internet, there’s been nothing but a ridiculous amount of hatred directed towards your clueless self.
In the morning Jay’s text saying please stay offline today baby was enough to make your stomach churn without even knowing what was actually happening. And against his words and your common sense, your fingers instantly went to the first better social media app on screen’s your homepage.
And so with every single comment put out on the internet, you feel your confidence and self-worth slowly crumbling down until they have eventually worn you out and you’re nothing but a sobbing mess ever since the morning. Your head hurts from all the crying yet the slightly masochistic part of yourself doesn’t let you tear your gaze away from the screen.
Maybe it’s because deep down you’ve always felt like you’re not good enough to be dating such a man as Jay, and the insecure thoughts he’s worked so hard to bury six feet underneath your feet have just resurfaced once again.
Knowing he’s surrounded by almost literal embodiments of the beauty standard on a daily basis and then having to come home to a plain nobody like you can’t be good for no one’s mental health, that’s for sure.
“Baby?”
The lump stretches your throat too painfully for you to make any other sound than the whimper you let out, and soon you hear Jay’s footsteps approaching your suffocatingly silent room.
“Are you there, love?”
You press your trembling lips together and nod your head, trying to force yourself to stop being so emotional for once. The last thing you want him to do is deal with… this, whatever your current state is.
“You’ve been reading the comments,” he points out quietly, but not with accusation – only worry. His heart squeezes with desperation to somehow make you feel better, yet you take his silence as a sign of disappointment in you.
And somehow you can’t bring yourself to look into his eyes, too swallowed by shame.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper eventually after a couple beats of silence. Your head drops lowly onto your bunched up knees. “I just had to see it myself.”
“Hey, no more twitter, no more instagram – no more,” Jay pleads softly as he carefully takes your phone out of your weak grasp and sets it on the bedside table, only to thread his fingers through yours and intertwine them together. “Don’t do this to yourself. Please, stop crying, beautiful. They don’t deserve your tears, hm?”
A sob rips out of your throat and echoes through the silent room, simultaneously breaking your boyfriend’s heart in two. “It’s just… I-,” you’re unable to finish your sentence with the hundreds of thoughts running around your mind, not giving you a moment of peace since hours ago.
“I know nothing I say will make you feel better now,” Jay whispers, shuffling closer on the bed until his chest is pressed against your shoulder and he envelops you in a protective embrace. He presses a warm kiss to your temple. “I love you. I hate to see you like that, honey.”
You nod your head, sniffling loudly and choking on your own sobs. “I love you too,” you cry quietly, moving your head to rest against his chest. “I just don’t feel good with myself right now.”
Jay hums. His hands blindly reach to your face to wipe your tears away, fingers gently caressing your damp face. “I know.” His words are muffled by your hair as he nuzzles his face in it. “I’m sorry.”
You can clearly hear the violent beating of his heart from your position and the insides of your stomach twist with sadness because you know well he’s blaming himself for everything. He promised to protect you at the beginning of your relationship, forever and always, and yet he’s failed at the one thing that should’ve been of the highest importance to him.
He felt conflicted about his job more times than he would like to admit. The constant restrictions, always having to watch his words and actions, the almost non-existent privacy – it was tough, annoying, but he could take it.
But he’s never hated being who he is more than he does right now. Seeing the person he loves the most, the person who holds his entire world, being in such a miserable state because of his job makes him feel just so helpless.
Swallowing his self-pity, Jay soothes you as gently as he can. His fingers thread through your hair, waiting patiently until your heavy sobs turn into hiccups and eventually small whimpers.
“I chose you, YN,” he finally says softly, hand pushing the hair sticking to your face away as the other one cups your cheek and brings you to look at him. “I chose you and I’d choose you over everyone else. It’s always going to be you. Always.”
You blink your lashes heavy with tears, cheeks stinging from the excessive amount of them that has dropped down your face. He nudges your cheek with his nose before pressing a gentle kiss to your brow bone. This tender gesture and his words finally allow the smallest smile to appear on your lips.
“There’s my pretty girl,” Jay giggled. His arms wrap tighter around you before he lifts you up and pulls you onto his lap. “You know, it’s okay if you don’t fully love yourself yet, I can do it for the both of us for now, baby. Please, believe me.”
You nod your head, now choked up for a whole different reason. You let him lean in and join your lips together in a sweet kiss. His knuckles caress your cheeks and chin as he plants a chain of pecks on your swollen mouth.
He tries to break the kiss but you don’t let him get too far away, pulling him back in by his neck and crashing your lips together again, this time more desperately. Jay’s fingers slip into the loopholes of your pants, bringing you closer and closer until there’s no space left between your chests.
The hushed I love you’s coming out from both of your mouths, his warm lips sucking a kiss after kiss on yours, his hand that drops down and sneaks underneath your top to linger over your skin – you’re becoming dizzy from the overwhelming love you’re being given.
“I’ve achieved everything because of you, love. I am who I am because of you,” he breathes out into your lips, forehead bumping against yours. One last time, he kisses the whatever is left of your tears away, then goes back to your hungry lips. “I’d give you the world if you asked me to. Let me take care of you, like you always do for me.”
With a strong move, he pulls you off his lap and lays you down on the plushy bedding. You shiver when the warmth of his body leaves you, only to catch your breath when he drops to the ground with the dull sound of his knees hitting the wooden floor.
His warm hands rub your thighs soothingly, palming your inflamed skin before his lips follow their lead and pepper small kisses all over them, gradually traveling higher. You can hardly breathe from the tension, impatiently waiting for his every next move, the exhaustion in your body making you feel everything tenfold.
The whisper you let out is strangled because of the prominent tingling in between your thighs. “I need you, Jay.”
With a hum of acknowledgement, he unzips then takes off your pants along with your underwear, discarding the clothes somewhere on the floor blindly. Breath hitches in your throat when he leans forward and finally buries his face between your legs, lips softly grazing your warmth.
His hands push on your inner thighs, holding your legs wide open as he leans down and presses a kiss to your pussy. A jolt shoots through your body when his teeth brush over your clit before he ducks his head down and engulfs it with his warm mouth entirely.
A shiver runs down your spine when his tongue runs flat against your clit, another but longer lick following right after. Your fingers clench on the duvet beneath you as you pant and whimper with every move that he makes.
Jay’s thumbs circle and press on the smooth skin on your thighs, he himself humming and grunting into your pussy as he slurps you up.
You’re perfect, so perfect in his eyes, yet the angle is still not satisfying to him, constantly searching for a better access to your quivering hole. Suddenly, his arms wrap around your knees and he swiftly lifts your legs further up, almost folding you in half as he sinks his mouth in your wetness again, groaning at how much better he can eat you out now. Properly.
A loud moan ripples from your throat and you jerk in his hold violently, not expecting him to just manhandle you like this. You’re just there, mind blank and eyes fluttering shut when Jay pushes his tongue into your hole, fucking and stretching you with it as best as he can. He’s being so loud with it, so nasty that you can’t help but surrender yourself to him completely, losing yourself to him over and over again.
Two of his warm fingers circle your weeping hole before letting them sink inside slowly, gently. With the addiction of his nose brushing over your clit, his tongue never halting its movements and now working in harmony with his fingers, you’re barely responsive.
You mewl and whine breathlessly, sweat starting to create a thin layer on your worked up body. Jay pulls away to take a breath and admire your blissed out face, long fingers curling up, and he ducks his head to cover your sensitive thighs with marks and bites.
“Aah, s’ good,” you slur out, arching your back off the bed slightly.
“Yeah? You like that, baby?” Jay asks, sucking one last hickey on your inner thigh before moving back to your needy cunt. You can only hum in agreement, the noise quickly turning into another string of moans and wails as you feel your approaching high.
Jay cranes his neck to get to you at the best angle, one that will help you reach your climax the fastest. He didn’t even realize when his now hard cock started rutting against the bed slowly, only focused on you and you only, restraining his own pleasure.
You open your mouth to warn him of your incoming release but before you can do that, Jay speeds up the movement of his fingers and has you coming within a second, a loud cry of his name on your lips serving as honey for his ears.
He drags his face away from your glistening pussy to take a look at your face.
You’re so beautiful, so perfect, soft and all his.
“My prettiest,” he murmurs, planting a bunch of kisses against your thighs and stomach before lifting himself on his arms and crawling to get you to face him, laying breathlessly beneath him.
He lowers himself to kiss you right on the lips, the slick from his face smearing against yours slightly but you’re too far gone to pay it any mind.
“I love you,” is all you’re able to choke out in a whisper. Jay smiles and brushes his nose against yours, kissing you once, then twice and thrice before letting you fill your lungs again.
“I love you more.”
And as much as you want to protest at first, you realize that he might be actually right. There’s no doubt of your feelings or devotion to him, you gave him your entire heart a long time ago, entrusted him with all you are and had enough faith in him to never make you regret your decision.
But no one loves like Jay does. His love is pure and raw, coming from the depth of his heart and overshadowing all other feelings you’ve ever harbored to another man.
That’s how you also know that no matter anything you’ll always end up together, overcome everything.
His gentle hands grab the bottom of the t-shirt you’re wearing, his actually now that he takes a better look at it, then lifts it up, revealing your perky breasts to him. He plants kisses against them, simultaneously unzipping his pants and kicking them down to the floor. His boxers are discarded next and you help him unbutton his shirt with your shaky fingers.
“Make me yours,” you say into his lips once you’re done with that, hand pressed against his cheek.
Your words are enough to send Jay’s patience out the window, and he’s lifting your leg to hook it over his waist before sinking his hard cock inside you, your walls instantly sucking him in to the hilt. He groans at the warmth that engulfs him, squeezing him so tightly he can barely move.
Your heart pounds in your chest, blood rushing to your cheeks at the intimacy, his eyes boring into you lovingly. Because that’s what he is. Utterly, hopelessly lovesick.
His chest heaves above yours for a moment as he lets you adjust and relax around him before settling for a slower and deep pace. Your breaths get ragged quickly, listening to the filthy squelching whenever he pulls out of you only to sink in further each time.
“See, baby? It’s all good now,” he rasps, sweaty hair beginning to cling to his forehead because of the stuffiness in your bedroom. “You don’t need anyone else. Only me. I’ll take care of you.”
“Only you,” you repeat after him, watching his eyes sparkle and eyebrows furrow.
He lets out a chuckle, out of breath. “Good girl.”
His hold on you tightens as he fucks into you, his large hand slipping to the back of your head and pressing your face to his neck. His thrusts grow faster, more erratic and messy, and the only thing you’re able to do at the moment is whine desperately into his skin and wrap your other leg over his hips, thighs clenching his sides even tighter.
You feel better. You feel heavenly. You feel loved.
He bullies his way so deep inside you that you feel as if on the verge of blacking out. It’s so good. You’re pretty sure you’re going to leave a drool stain on your boyfriend’s toned shoulder once you pull away from there as you’re just unable to close your mouth for a second, too fucked out to have any control over it now.
“Can I go a little faster, sweetheart?” Jay asks.
You whine into the junction of his neck. “Mhm.”
And so he does, his touch growing in intensity as well. He lets go of your neck and your head falls back onto the pillows and you finally get to look at his face, expression so soft and tender, and a stark contrast to the way he fucks you.
Your stomach sets ablaze with every loud clap of his hips against yours, his precum making a mess on your thighs.
“Fucking hell,” he moans lowly, not being able to get enough of the doe-eyed look you’re giving him. He didn’t know it was possible, but he thinks he loves you even a little more than yesterday.
The sloppy sound of your wet skin colliding with his ricochets off of your bedroom’s walls and your eyes water again – this reason completely contrasting to the earlier heartbreak. Jay is here to kiss all of your tears away, his warm lips tracing your cheeks and collecting every salty droplet that falls on your skin.
You throw your head back, nails digging into his shoulder blades. And then he reaches down with the one hand that’s not holding you, pressing his fingers on your swollen clit and rubbing circles on it, making you grow lightheaded again.
His never ceasing thrusts keep hitting your g-spot, without even giving you a second to breathe.
“J-Jay,” you whimper, voice wet and small, and he knows exactly what you want to communicate to him.
You fall apart in his arms as your orgasm hits your sensitive pussy even harder this time, making you squirt with a shallow gasp for air. You feel completely owned by him at the moment.
Jay’s eyes roll to the back of his skull for a hot minute, his cock aching and twitching as your walls spasm and squeeze him mercilessly. He buries his face in your neck now, nibbling under your ears and panting heavily against your skin.
Jay cums hard, probably harder than he ever has before – all because he knows he’s fucked you so good you can’t stop shaking in his arms. His own thighs begin to quiver a little as he ruts his emptying cock into your warm pussy, filling you up so nicely.
It’s the choked up wail that leaves your throat that spurs him into pushing more of his throbbing length into your sensitive self. His warm cum fills you to the brim, seeping slowly onto your thighs, yet he keeps snapping his hips against you slowly. “That’s it. Take it, baby. Take it all.”
Your lips part and when he pulls away from your neck, he immediately slides his tongue against yours. His kisses are sloppy and hot and wet but that only pushes you even further into the state of bliss, completely losing your mind for the man above you.
Your back is arched, making you press your chest into his forcefully as you jolt and twitch from overstimulation as he pulls out his soft cock out of you carefully.
Jay’s lips press to your temple warmly with a soothing intention. You try to catch your breath, body sweaty and clammy just like your hair. Yet you look just as pretty as ever to him. His prettiest girl.
He collapses onto the bed next to you and lets you cling to him for as long as you want to, holding you tightly to his chest and drowning you in praises and compliments. It’s only when he notices that your eyelids are growing heavy that he gently pulls you away and up from the bed, steadying your wobbly self on the rug beside your bed.
You look at him in confusion, eyes misty and tired and he can’t help but giggle and kiss you one more time. “We should probably take a shower first,” he flicks your nose when you scrunch it up slightly but then you nod your head.
When you start walking into the direction of the bathroom, goosebumps spiking your skin despite the hot temperature in the room, you turn around and frown when you notice that Jay has stayed behind you.
“You’re not coming, love?” You ask but he shakes his head.
“You go first, baby. I’ll be right there in a second.” He nods his head to the ruined bedding. “Gotta change the sheets first.”
You flush as you take in the mess you’ve both made. “Right,” you mumble and then disappear behind the door.
When you’re both showered and back in the bed together, you’re propping yourself on your elbows, trying to reach the switch of the lamp on the bedside table. You don’t get far when Jay’s arm wraps itself across your torso and brings you back down, right into his chest.
“Stay,” he mumbles, nuzzling his face in your hair.
You giggle quietly but give in and lay comfortably, half on the bed and half on your boyfriend. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Jay hums lowly. “I mean forever. Stay with me forever.”
You look at him, eyes slightly widening despite how tired you are, and his words take your breath away when you realize he’s dead serious. You’re at a loss of words, looking at the man by your side, stunned, yet he only smiles lazily and brings your hand to his lips to press his warm lips against your knuckles.
“Marry me.”
Lacy, oh, Lacy, I just loathe you lately
And I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you
Yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you
taglist: @luvkpopp @yannew @hoonxclsvly @jongseongslvr @beomgyusonlywife @starggukies @koizekomi @ineedsomezzz @starl1ghtsinthedark @enhastolemyheart @seokseokjinkim @parksunghoonsgf @skzenhalove @somekpopshiteu97 @enhypens-hoe @alpha-mommy69 @jwnzlvr @wondipity
permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @dilucsleftshoelace @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi @nichoswag @s00buwu @mon2sunjinsuver @goreconsumer @i4kt @heehoonsnemo @seongslutt @criminalyun @kissestojapan
note: i actually really like how it turned out xx
#carly's 2k event ⛧☾༺♰༻☽⛧#enhypen#enhypen x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen hard hours#park jay x reader#jay x reader smut#jay x reader#park jay imagines#park jay smut#enhypen jay imagines#enhypen jay x reader#enhypen jay smut#jay hard hours
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Okay but- Boothill (sfw-nsfw)
warnings: GN reader, not reviewed, nsfw, I lost everything and I'm living on a bench in Penacony. this is crack don't take it seriously pls, hmmm tetanus :)
okay but- Boothill likes to rub his cheek against yours, just because he can't feel you with other parts of his body.
He blushes when you kiss his face but secretly (not so secret since he says it openly) it's his favorite thing
He gets upset easily with anyone who is close to you and this always causes problems for you because he doesn't like it when people touch you, whether they are men or women.
then he follows you behind you like he's your shadow and one second he's behind you quietly and the next he's on the other side of the street fighting with a guy who was looking at you for 5 seconds longer than Boothill would like...
he is vindictive, yes. Once a guy complimented you by giving you a light kiss on the cheek and Boothill spent a week calling this guy and saying threats like: "I know where you live, and I'm going to put a bullet in your head before learning not to touch something that isn't yours" ends up coming out as "I know where you live, and I- I hope you have a good day" because of his filter
And when did you take him to the Express with you? guy could make a second explosion wanting to fight with everyone until you fight with him so he stays quiet and he will sit on the couch, opening his legs completely while looking at you, waiting for you to sit on his lap. He has no shame as he buries his face in your neck and stays quiet for just a minute before he starts teasing you by biting or licking you. (in front of everyone at Express)
He gets extremely upset if you deny him something (especially a kiss) he will be grumpy all day, mumbling all day almost dramatically. he will complain about this even with a Warp Trotter, But it won't be long before he gets to you and pins you to some surface to take what's rightfully his.
Boothill loves it when you encourage him in something or when you praise him. See you looking at his body with curiosity in your eyes? He can't help but have a smug smile. he smiles more seeing how small your hands are on his chest gives him slight satisfaction but he'll still pat you if your hands wander too much.
He can drink the most variable things possible but he won't drink Himeko's coffee, for some reason his body warns him as if it were a dangerous substance so he always passes the coffee to you as if it were a bomb and an apologetic look...
You may or may not wake up to him in the morning eating bullets from his gun next to your in the bed and he will just look at you with a smile and offer you one even though he knows it's impossible for you to eat it
NSFW (pls don't read this far if you are underage)
His favorite thing is probably fingering you, he loves doing that because he can occupy himself on your neck while you squirm
but he loves to eat too, to stay between your legs for hours while you get to the point where you start crying and whining while trying to pull his head away from you. His hair is a bit sensitive so he might end up growling and blushing when you pull it.
Does it bite you in every possible place, chest, thighs, neck? yes! your curves? yes too...
He misses his body, how he could feel your chest on his, the heat of your body on his and how good it would be to feel how hot and tight you are inside, he hates it but he still feels a surge of satisfaction in him as he feels it. see what he can do with just his fingers and his mouth on you.
He may or may not be jealous of vibrators... I mean... are those things giving you more pleasure than him? Ugh but it's okay, he can use these things to his advantage...
Give you more compliments than degradation, not because he wants to but because it's the only thing he can do...
"I know you can give me one more, aren't you my little sunshine?" (this was supposed to be a my little bitch)
He loves to be mean to you in bed, if he can't put words into words then he will act, he loves pulling your hair to kiss you, bite you hard, make you beg for not giving you anything and make you cry for giving you more than you asked for.
His day ends more satisfied when he sees you getting out of bed, shaking with wobbly legs and dirty with your own juice and sweat... aren't you the cutest thing he's ever seen? almost like a little bunny...
#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x reader#boothill x reader#hsr smut#honkai star rail smut#honkai star rail x gender neutral reader#honkai star rail x male reader#honkai star rail x female reader
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Here are some German specific quirks I think König would have <3
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
(yes, I know he's Austrian, but the difference is really only that they talk funny and have better desserts)
♡ he HATES fans and air conditioning. Like I'm talking disdain from the deepest pits of hell kinda hate.
Ceiling fans and AC are not a thing here, and literally every German looks at it with a very disapproving look if there happens to be one somewhere.
König absolutely refuses to sleep with the fan or AC on, just open a window, Liebling!
He's so upset that he can't put the window "auf kipp" :( (pls Google it, it's so hard to explain lol) like he's crushed that he can't keep the windows "auf kipp" all day.
You have a ceiling fan? Nope, not anymore. That thing is getting taken down the minute you move in together. But if you insist on keeping it, he'll secretly cut the cable to the switch.
Everyone knows all they do is whirl around dust and make you sick! He's not having it.
König acts like artificial ventilation is his worst enemy (I agree with him) and he'd rather suffocate than turn on the goddamn AC.
♡ Sundays are strictly lazy/rest days. Nothing's open on Sundays here, so we're forced to relax and not run around like headless chickens trying to get things done.
He's absolutely baffled if you have plans to go somewhere on a Sunday. What do you mean you need to run errands? What do you mean you're going out? And if you want him to come along?? Yeah, no.
His brain stops working. After the many years he's been alive, not once has he gone somewhere on a Sunday that wasn't his Oma's house for Kaffee und Kuchen.
You're not going anywhere. Plans are canceled, and you better spend the day on the couch with him.
♡ König probably misses all the beautiful old architecture Vienna has to offer. You don't quite appreciate it as much when it's just there all the time, but now he wishes he could quietly people watch in the city center :(
In my mind he's a bit of a history nerd, so he probably frequented museums and castles, admiring the delicately sculpted ceilings and wondering how people lived back then.
He'd be most fascinated by the masonry work done on the outside of most buildings. I mean, that's stone, but it's so smooth and carefully crafted.
♡ there are some very weird sayings in German that you just can't translate because they don't make sense. König is sick of having to awkwardly try to explain what they mean after he's been caught muttering one under his breath, only to realize halfway through that he looks like a maniac.
German is a very literal language, and I think he misses speaking it. We have very specific words for some things and he probably struggles to talk in English sometimes purely because the words he wants to use just don't exist.
(I'm very upset they didn't give him an Austrian accent bc it's one of my favorites, but I can also confidently say that I think he wouldn't be taken seriously at all if he had one lmao)
♡ König goes on random ass walks sometimes. Where's he going? On a walk. No, like where is he going? HE'S GOING ON A WALK.
There's no destination, you just walk. No matter the weather. Ya walk until you feel like you've walked enough. (A very German experience and I hate it)
♡ dreams of his Oma's Kaiserschmarn (me too, König, me too.)
It's basically a giant pancake that you tear into little pieces (traditionally, it has raisins too, I think) and you eat with either cinnamon sugar or applesauce (or both) and you will drift up to heaven.
It's warm, it's fluffy, it's sweet;
It's perfect for a gloomy Friday afternoon spent with his Oma and Opa 🥺
(Can you tell that I'm projecting)
─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───
"Auf kipp" is a very specific window position where only the bottom two hinges stay attached so you can tilt the window towards you and a little crack is open so you can always have fresh air!
"Oma und Opa" grandma and grandpa, which he loves so much, undoubtedly.
"Kaffe und Kuchen" basically tea time. You get together and eat cake and have coffee! Mostly on the weekends :)
"Kaiserschmarn" what dreams are made of.
🩷
#bumblebeesfromvenus#könig x reader#könig mw2#könig#könig cod#könig call of duty#konig x reader#cod x reader#konig mw2#konig cod#konig call of duty#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#soap mactavish#soap x reader#john price x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#captain price x reader#gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader
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nanami x f!reader
(little thing I wrote about Nanami’s wife being insecure after the birth of their daughter)
cws- f!reader, self doubt, body insecurity, bodily fluids, p in v (unprotected), oral f!receiving, lacatation kink, nipple play, 18+, light postpartum depression, body worship, creampie
You hated the way you looked.
You stared in the mirror analyzing and observing your post birth body, the way your stomach pudge began to droop, the abundance of stretch marks coating your sides, your breasts full and aching adding to your sheer discomfort.
You adored your daughter, loved her with every fiber of your being but when the lights turned off you were left alone with your thoughts and the body you were convinced was destroyed.
This didn’t go unnoticed by your darling husband of course, he’d watch you heavily over analyze yourself as you pulled on your pajamas for the night. The way you’d wince when your rough feeling shirt clipped the underside of your sensitive breasts.
Nanami wasn't dumb, the way your face filled with worry when he proposed you have a date night just the two of you but quickly made the excuse of not going through the trouble.
“Hey sweetheart, just put her down for the night.. well for a few hours.” He smirked, rubbing his tired eyes.
You were laid on the bed in an oversized purple nightgown, you could wear a trash bag and he’d still find you to be the most ravishing woman he’s ever seen.
“That’s great, let’s get some sleep while we still can.” You said with a small yawn as Nanami crawled on the bed next to you, his strong arms wrapped around your waist causing you to wince quietly.
“Did I do something?” Nanami asked gazing up at you through his eyelashes as he took your hand in his.
“Do..” you sighed, beginning to feel the onslaught of tears form, “D-Do you still find me attractive..?” The words came out as more of a quiet plea than a question.
Nanami stared at you with an astonished look, eyes blown wide as he gripped your hand a little tighter, “Sweetheart..”
Hearing him say your name softly made you begin to sob, “Y/N, why do you not know how beautiful you are?” He pressed kisses to your knuckles keeping eye contact with you.
“I-I don’t feel it anymore..” sniffles came from you as you tried to wipe your tears, “I’m bigger now.. I have more stretch marks, I feel and look tired all the time.. and my stupid boobs hurt,” a hurt chuckle came from you as you tilted your head back.
“Sweetie.. are you aware you just birthed our beautiful daughter a month ago?” Nanami smiled softly, sitting up to caress the side of your face, “Your body is still as beautiful and amazing as it was before.” His calloused thumb wiping the stray tears away.
“K-Kento-“
He shushed you quickly before placing a soft kiss on your chapped lips, “Let me show you how beautiful you are..”
All of a sudden Nanami’s hands lifted your soft nightgown above your aching tits, his mouth then began to leave messy wet kisses on your neck.
You let out soft mewls as his rough hands palmed and squeezed at your tender breasts, beads of soft white milk dribbling out.
Nanami smirked against your neck as he dragged his lips to your cleavage, “I never want you to forget why I fell in love with you,” he hummed wrapping his lips around one of the hardened buds, his tongue graced over the bud as the smooth milk dribbled out.
“K-Ken, fuckkk,” you moaned as your hands found home in his blonde hair, gripping at the roots. His hands worked at your breasts as his lips moved on to the other bud.
He pulled off your breasts with an audible pop! As his head moved to your inner thighs, “I’ll never stop loving you, and if I do shoot me dead angel.” Nanami grinned as he saw you smile lightly, he nipped at the inner corners of your thighs slowly moving towards your panty clad cunt.
Soft kisses were placed where your clit was covered, “Think I can make you squirt through your panties?” Nanami groaned as he inhaled your scent leaving kitten licks on the damp fabric.
“Ken, please don’t tease!” You squeaked as his fingers worked on your clothed clit, Nanami’s teeth nipped at your thighs as his hips grinded into the mattress below.
“Wan’ kiss you to know kiss how beautiful kiss you are,” Nanami looked gorgeous between your legs, hair tousled, pupils blown as his fingers worked delicately.
Your back arched as you felt his tongue ghost over your clit, a whine fell from your lips as Nanami wrapped his lips over your clit. “Let go for me angel..” he hummed as the coil snapped in your belly and your panties soaked. “Fuckk, such a good girl f’ me.”
He placed one last kiss on your thigh before he sat up and began to gently palm himself through his boxers, the whole image was erotic as precum stained his boxers.
“See what you do to me angel?” He gripped his hardened cock through the fabric, “Please give me me a chance to fuck you dumb tonight.”
“K-Ken fuck!” Moans fell from your mouth as your husband continued to pound into your weeping pussy,
“Sucking me in so good, shit,” Nanami grunted out as he lifted your leg onto his shoulder planting a small kiss on your ankle, “Never thrust forget how fucking beautiful thrust you are.” He groaned out feeling your gummy walls begin to contract around him.
“‘M gonna cum Ken!” Your toes curled as you felt him speed up his thrusts, “D-do it you got it baby,” his hand came to rub quick tight circles on your clit as your walls clamped around his cock causing him to still.
“Ohhh fuck! That’s my good girl,” his voice sounded raspy as he buried himself deeper into you spilling his seed.
Pants came from both of you as he leaned over to place multiple kisses on your forehead, there was a calm silence that followed after before it was broken by Nanami.
“I never want you to forget how much of a goddamn goddess you are,”
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu x reader#x reader#jjk x reader#jjk imagines#kento nanami#jjk nanami#nanami x you#nanami x reader#nanami smut#jujustu kaisen smut
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SOMETHING DIFFERENT !!! OSCAR P. X FEM!READER (18+)
summary: oscar piastri wasn’t usually like this, but she was so lost in her feeling that all she could do was listen to him.
content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), use of explicit language, pwp, mean dom!oscar (heavy on dom), fingering, brief mention of overstimulation, orgasm denial, dacryphilia, short smut because i just wrote this lol
note: (s)creaming. pls send some asks my way! enjoy xx
something sinful (smut) masterlist
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if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out
it was as if she had lost her lungs from writhing and whining.
her legs violently shook as she came for the fifth time tonight, her eyes glistening with overwhelming pleasure and her mouth letting out nothing but a silent whine. her body was on fire from the endless orgasms she had gotten through the night.
yet oscar piastri kneeled in front of her with his thick cock still stiff as ever, his chest rising as his head beaded with sweat. he looked at her as if he hadn’t just fucked her brain out for ages.
he wasn’t usually like this. he looked like a man on a mission— a mission to give his girlfriend endless orgasms until she’s unable to walk for a whole month. he just came home from a long double header and here he was now— waiting for her to calm a little bit before his fingers started to touch her glistening cunt again.
he watched her cunt clench around nothing, licking his lips when her cum dripped down to her puckered hole. his fingers slowly pressed and rubbed on her clit, eliciting a mumble of, “too much, ‘scar,” from his partner as he shushed her softly.
he wasn’t like this. he would’ve allowed himself to cum after she’d cum all over his mouth and fingers— now he expected her to cum all over his cock repeatedly and have her beg for it.
he wasn’t this demanding either. if anybody would dare ask what the fuck happened to the quiet and polite oscar, his girlfriend would answer with a shrug… should she come back from her high by then.
“gonna fuck you more, baby,” he murmured, his fingers traced on her lips before sliding two fingers inside her cunt.
she squealed, “o- oh! fuck!” pressure built up in her lower stomach as oscar’s fingers curled up against her sensitive spot.
“oscar, ‘s too much, too- hah! fuck! ‘s too much!” her legs began to kick away from him, but his other hand had pushed her down to where she was and his fingers relently fucked her cunt.
“you got one more,” he muttered and looked at her firmly, “stay still.”
“os- it’s too much! please!” she pleaded. she didn’t even know what the fuck she was pleading for. all she knew was that her body was desperately writhing under his touch and her cunt was throbbing around his fingers.
he tsked, “you have more in you, baby. don’t lie to me.”
“‘m not,” she sobbed, her voice jumping an octave as she cried out, “fuck— i’m cumming again, fuck fuck! shit~”
he crooned, “see? you’re a good girl f’me aren’t you?”
“fuuuuck~ oscar, please,” her eyes were shut tightly as she begged, “i’m gonna— oh my goooood~ can i-“
“can you what, princess?” oscar’s face feigned innocence, yet his thoughts were nothing but sinful as he smirked and fucked her. “tell me. can you what?”
“can i- i-“ she was running out of words, eyes were letting go of her tears.
she wasn’t sure if she hated this version of oscar or not. because oscar trusted her enough to show this side of him— the more assertive and dominant one. she loved him, really.
but god was she so fucking frustrated that he wouldn’t finish her thought process already. he wouldn’t just tell her immediately to cum before she could even say it. he was fucking her relentlessly with his fingers and he was still expecting her to answer.
she whined, uttering incoherent words as oscar tutted and demanded quietly, “i can’t read minds, baby. tell me what you want.”
yet she let nothing out, whining and shaking against his touch.
then… nothing.
she almost cried when the pressure in her stomach faded away immediately, her eyes opening quickly as he looked at her with sheer disappointment in his face.
she babbled, “b- but-“
“you weren’t listening, baby,” he laughed mockingly, pressing a sweet kiss that contrasted with his cruel words, “i told you. if you can’t tell me what you want i’m not gonna give it.”
“os-“ her lips formed a deep pout as oscar scoffed. she was just so fucked out— she couldn’t find herself to even argue.
“you should’ve tried harder, princess,” he murmured, “i would've let you cum again. and again. and again.”
“but you didn’t listen,” he tutted again and clicked his tongue. “you’re so spoiled that you thought you could easily get things that you want without telling me, hm?”
“‘s a good thing ‘m here,” oscar pulled her hips closer to the edge of the bed, the tip of his cock prodding at her wet cunt.
she whimpered at the feeling, wriggling against him before his hand slapped the side of her thigh. the impact left her moaning as he muttered, “you better start asking sweetheart— or else ‘m gonna have to fuck the word ‘please’ out of you.”
so much for a quiet, polite man.
he was so different that she wasn’t sure if she had the answer for the sudden change, either. all she knew was that she needed to behave and be vocal if she wanted to cum on his cock.
♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen
♡ moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1
#formula one imagine#f1 imagine#formula one smut#f1 smut#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri#oscar piastri smut#op81 smut#op81 imagine#op81 x reader#op81#oscar piastri x reader#♔ something sinful ⎯ f1 smut
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feelings on fire (joel miller x f!reader) 18+ PART NINE
previous chapters | welp. hey everybody, it's been a little while since this updated, huh? those who follow me will know i haven't been having the best time lately and had to put this fic on hold for a little bit. but finally an update is here, and i'm so excited to share it with you. thank you so much for being so patient and lovely. i also wanna give a huge shoutout to han @swiftispunk who's been there for me relentlessly throughout this rough period and who kept encouraging me whenever i thought this would never get written. i couldn't ask for a better writing buddy & friend, ilysm. i hope you guys like this chapter and here's my kofi if you'd like to leave a tip 💕
chapter summary: joel is taking you away for the weekend, which only means one thing: your v card is going bye-bye.
rating: 18+ explicit
warnings for this chapter: age difference (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early 20s), innocent/inexperienced reader, loss of virginity, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, dirty talk, praise kink, size kink, tummy bulge, oral (f receiving), catholic guilt, panic attacks, phone sex, mutual masturbation, lap sitting, lingerie, fingering, there is so much goin on pls lmk if i forgot smth
word count: 25k (what the fuck)
ao3
It's crazy how one weekend can change everything.
After days of feeling like shit and wanting - or forcing yourself to want - absolutely nothing to do with Joel anymore, you'd wound up naked in bed together. An ironic twist to the men ain't shit mantra you and Tasha had been trying to live by for the past forty eight hours. You'd laid with your head on his chest, exhausted and sated, listening to his and your own equally haggard breathing slow to a quiet thrum of background noise. You'd kissed the spot above his nipple, soft and warm against your lips as he carded his fingers through your hair and peppered kisses all along the crown of your head.
"So you're taking me away, huh?" you'd asked him in the heavenly afterglow of your orgasms, still tangled together under the sheets.
He'd smiled sleepily, squeezed you tighter in his arms and pulled you in as close as he could, "I'm takin' you away," he'd promised quietly, "Just you n' me. Gonna make this right."
Unbeknownst to him, everything had already become right again the moment he'd walked through the bedroom door.
Tasha had come back about an hour after you'd finished, roused you both from a quick nap by knocking quietly at the door and saying, "Hate to bother you guys but we gotta be out of here by four and the place is a disaster." Looking down at the mascara stained pillowcase beneath your head, you'd known she was right.
A few hours later you'd stood at the airport once again, arms wrapped tightly around Tasha as you buried your face in her shoulder and thanked her over and over again for everything; for being there, for listening, for understanding, for texting Joel, everything.
"You're gonna make me cry," she'd mumbled in your ear, hugging you back just as tightly, "Please, I just did what a good friend does."
You'd hoped she knew that she's the first good friend you've ever had.
Just before she'd headed to her gate, she'd pulled something out of her purse and handed it to you discreetly, palm down. You'd glanced downward to see a little blue package, thin and rectangular.
"Start taking these tonight," she'd said softly, "Take one every day at the same time. Promise me."
"What is it?"
She'd rolled her eyes, "Oh, you sweet summer child."
--
You know what birth control is. You're not that clueless. You just.... haven't really seen it before.
Now, having a pack of it in your possession, in your bedroom of all places, hidden in one of your dresser drawers beneath socks and underwear... it somehow feels more scandalous than the bikini. More scandalous than Joel's flannel beneath your mattress. More scandalous than those short little dresses folded in a bag in the back of your closet.
Birth control means sex. If your parents found your clothing purchases or Joel's flannel you could probably get away with some kind of lie, an excuse. But if they found this.... you don't even want to think about what would happen.
Take one every day at the same time. Promise me.
You pop out a pill quickly before shoving the package back into your dresser, then hurry to the bathroom with it tucked in your palm, clasped tightly between your fingers. You take it quickly with a handful of water and then stare at your reflection in the mirror for a moment, eyes bright. You're expecting to feel an ounce of shame, some guilt creeping in - but you don't. Instead, you find yourself smiling, face going hot when you think about the reason why you're taking these in the first place.
"Dinner's ready!" you hear your mom call from downstairs, and you yank yourself away from the bathroom mirror before your thoughts can get any more X rated.
She hadn't said anything to you when you got home, but then again you hadn't really given her a chance to. Now you shuffle into the kitchen and take a seat at the table, eyeing her quietly and wondering if the silent treatment is over. Your father comes in from the living room before you can find out, taking his usual seat and giving you a stern look.
"I heard you spent the weekend with one of your college friends," he states.
You stare at him for a second, unsure what to really say. You settle for a shrug, "Uh, yeah. Just had a girls' weekend at an Airbnb."
"I'm just curious why you're making time for friends you'll be seeing again in September when there are people here you've barely even said hello to," he raises an eyebrow, squaring his shoulders, "You said the other week you'd be volunteering again, didn't you? Doing more things to better yourself?"
"Well, I helped out at Sunday School," you offer with a grimace, but you already know it's not enough.
"I'm not talking about helping out here and there every now and then," he shakes his head and eyes your mother as she walks over with two plates of dinner, places them in front of the both of you without making eye contact, "You need a weekly activity, something steady, right dear?"
Your mother's gaze flits to yours quickly as he says this and you know exactly what she's thinking without her having to say it: do not mention the guitar lessons. But what the fuck are you supposed to say? You get that she doesn't want your father knowing until your little "plan" has bore a little more fruit, but it isn't fair that he still thinks you need some kind of weekly activity to attend when you already have one. Or, at least, a cover for one.
Maybe your mother can solve this problem for you.
"Well, actually-" you begin, only bluffing, but she bangs the water jug on the table before you can continue.
"I'll work on it with her, don't worry," she says quickly, shaking her head at you as discreetly as she can, "We'll figure something out together."
As usual, your father is oblivious to anything amiss. He just nods and extends his hands to start the prayer, "Sounds good."
Dinner is the usual boring affair, barely any conversation to be had as your father scarfs it down and heads to his office, leaving you and your mother sitting at the table in silence. You poke absentmindedly at your broccoli, thinking about Joel - he wants to see you again tonight, maybe talk about some stuff, and you're not really sure how to feel about it yet; you want to know more about his ex wife, his daughter, want to understand him and his life a little better, but it also scares you a bit. Hearing about his relationship with another woman - a woman who clearly still has a prominent position in his life - it's gonna be a lot to take in.
He also wants to talk about taking you away - a much less scary thought.
"So, you had a good weekend?" your mom asks quietly, and you look up in surprise - you'd thought the silent treatment was still ongoing.
"Yeah, it was nice," you reply - simplistic and not a very true answer, but it's not like you can tell her about anything that happened.
"What did you do?"
You shrug again, "Just watched movies and hung out, talked about how our summers have been going," you take a bite of broccoli and hope she won't press it any further.
"Did you go to your lesson on Saturday?"
You nod quickly, swallowing and doing your best to keep eye contact, "Yep, I learned some new chords." Bullshit. "Mr. Miller is a really good teacher." Less bullshit.
She doesn't say anything else right away and you manage to completely finish your meal before she drops her fork and turns to you with a sigh. "I know what you're thinking and no, I still haven't told your father about it. I already explained why-"
"Because you don't want him getting involved before I've made progress, I know."
"So have you? Been making progress?"
Oh, the things you could say in response to that question. "I think I have. He's, um... he's been very interested in the hymns."
"Which ones are you learning?"
Oh fuck.
"It's a surprise," you say quickly, flashing her a fake smile, "Don't wanna jinx it, ya know?"
Her brows furrow but she doesn't question it, nodding slowly and taking a deep breath as she grabs both your plates and walks to the sink. You sit there for a moment, not wanting to get up until you know for sure the conversation is over.
"So it's working, you think?" she finally asks, turning on the tap and rinsing the dishes, "You're helpin' him?"
You swallow, thankful she's not looking at you as your hands ball into fists against the wood of the table, "Yes," you lie quietly, "Definitely."
--
"You need to teach me a hymn," is the first thing you say to Joel that night as you walk through his front door, passing right by him without so much as a hug, "Or two. Two hymns, maybe three, I don't know."
"Hello to you too," he says with a chuckle, shutting the door and walking over to you to wrap his arms around you from behind, "S'wrong? You alright?"
You have to admit, being wrapped in his arms certainly does make the anxiety ebb away. You close your eyes and lean back into his grasp, sighing deeply and trying to ground yourself as best you can. Ever since that conversation with your mother you feel like your brain has been working on overdrive, reminding you over and over that you're so fucking behind on what you're meant to be doing to keep this façade intact.
"I'm just stressed," you mutter, "My mom asked about the lessons and I didn't know what to say and now I'm all up in my own head again as usual."
You feel him tuck his head against your shoulder, squeeze you tighter, "Hey, it's okay," he murmurs, breath so warm against your ear it makes you shiver, "We'll find a couple easy ones and I'll teach you. You can borrow my guitar too, practice at home."
"My dad still doesn't know," you sigh, "She's waiting for me to have some sort of breakthrough with you to tell him."
He snorts, "And what exactly does this 'breakthrough' look like?"
"I don't know, a pool of golden light? Heavenly angels singing praise?"
He chuckles against your skin, pressing a kiss there, "Well, that'll be easy. That happens every time I make you come."
You feel your cheeks bloom with heat, lips tightening into a bashful smile as he pulls you in closer and noses your ear once again, scruff tickling the skin there. You hum contentedly, pretending for a moment that your parents aren't involved on the sidelines of this relationship, that their opinions don't matter and there doesn't need to be any sort of ulterior reason for your being here - then you remember that you're going to have a whole weekend to pretend that's the case, and you smile wider.
You turn in his arms, wrapping your own around his torso and peering up at him. He's so handsome as usual, hair messy, eyes brown and deep. It's impossible not to lean up and press a soft kiss to his lips, so of course you do, eyes closing as you melt against his mouth. He kisses you back just as soft, rubs your back gently as he holds you close.
"I'm so sorry, angel," he murmurs quietly against your lips, and you find yourself pulling away to look at him in confusion.
"For what?"
He shakes his head, eyes sad, "For everythin' I put you through this weekend, all that added stress," you go to interrupt but he brings one of his hands up to gently press his finger to your lips, stopping you, "Don't tell me not to apologize. I did wrong by you. I wanna fix it."
You swallow, remembering the woman at the bar - his ex wife, remembering the way he'd smiled before he kissed her, the way those soft brown eyes looking at you right now had looked directly into hers as well...
Your stomach twists uncomfortably.
"I meant what I said, about tellin' you everything," he murmurs, "I want... I want you to know me, ya know? I..." he breathes deeply, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against yours, "God, I'm not good at this."
"Good at what?" you whisper, and you feel him shrug in your embrace.
"Just.... bein' open."
You pull back a bit to peer at him again, feeling your stomach unclench when you see that unsure look on his face, the worry lines prominent on his forehead and those plump lips downturned into a frown. He's still afraid he's lost you, you can tell.
"Well, I wanna hear what you have to say," you murmur, "I do wanna learn more about you. But it's okay, Joel. I'm not heartbroken, not anymore."
He winces at your words, "But you were," he closes his eyes again, "You were heartbroken, baby. I hurt you. We... she -" he cuts himself off to sigh, "She didn't know about you when she kissed me, alright? I hadn't told her, and that's on me."
Oh. You didn't know that.
"Why... why didn't you tell her?"
"Because I was a coward," he says immediately, "I didn't... I wasn't..." he takes another deep breath and pulls away from you, unlocking himself from your embrace to grip your arms in both his hands, "Okay," he breathes, "I'm really bad at this, darlin', forgive me if it comes out weird."
You're not sure what he's about to say but you can feel your heart beginning to beat faster in your chest as he stands there looking at you, brow furrowed as if he's completely out of his element, and you suppose he is.
"I haven't... god, I don't wanna scare you but..." he chews his lip for a moment, lost in thought, "I just... I meant it, when I said that I think about you all the time. I really, really meant it."
You stare at him for a moment, processing his words. What is he saying? That he didn't tell his ex wife about you because of how much he thinks about you? How does that make sense? You silently curse yourself for your naivety, your inexperience with relationships. You're sure if Tasha was here she'd be able to tell you exactly what he means.
You're about to ask him to elaborate when you suddenly catch a glimpse of something on the mantel of the fireplace, something that you can't recall ever seeing before. Your eyes go slightly wide and he notices immediately, following your gaze.
"Oh," he says quietly, "Um, yeah, I... I put up some pictures."
His grip on your arms releases when he realizes you want to get a closer look. You make your way over to the fireplace with careful steps, eyeing the framed photograph in front of you as it slowly comes more into focus.
It's Joel - a much younger Joel. You're not sure how young, but there are no signs of age on his face, skin smooth and bare and hair trimmed neatly beneath a baseball cap. He's standing behind a swing, pushing an adorable little toddler in front of him, a big smile on her face as she kicks her chubby legs high into the air.
You stare at it for a long time without saying anything, warmth bursting through your chest the longer your gaze flicks from him to the baby, the baby to him. There's something in her brown eyes, something recognizable, and you realize it's because they're his eyes.
You're looking at his daughter.
"What's her name?" you finally ask, voice soft.
"Sarah," he replies - he sounds close behind you but he doesn't touch you, doesn't make any move to embrace you again, just lets you absorb the information in your own time.
"Sarah," you repeat quietly, thoughtfully, "How old is she there?"
"Few days before her second birthday," he says, and you swear you can hear the hint of a smile in his voice, "Installed that swing set in the backyard for her as a present, but I couldn't wait 'til her birthday to show her - I was too excited."
You smile at his words, feeling fondness flood your thoughts as your gaze falls back to the much younger Joel. He looks a little like the boys you've seen at college, extremely handsome but inexperienced, naïve, maybe even a little lost... kind of like you. You squint your eyes a bit, as if staring at him will help you figure out exactly how old he is.
"I'm twenty in that one," he answers for you.
Your eyebrows shoot up and you finally turn around to look at him, a look of shock prominent on your face. "But... that would mean you had her -"
"When I was eighteen, yeah," he gives you a wistful half smile, "Remember that 'trouble' I told you I got in right outta high school? The mysterious thing I did that got me disowned?" he gestures toward the photo with a light chuckle, "Well, there she is. Little Miss Trouble, Sarah Miller."
Your brow furrows. You remember what he'd said on his back deck that day, the way he'd stopped himself from revealing too much. He'd been so close to telling you, and yet...
"Why didn't you just tell me then?" you ask softly, "That day in your backyard, you... you coulda told me about her."
His smile fades into a frown, eyes going downcast, "I was afraid," he admits softly, "I didn't... I didn't want this to end so soon. I didn't wanna scare you off."
You feel a pang in your heart, a sensation of sadness that bubbles up within you as you peer at his melancholic expression, the shame in his eyes. He really thinks you're five seconds away from running out the door, leaving his life for good and forgetting this whole thing between the two of you even happened. You can see it in his expression, the way he's standing like he's small, the same way he'd looked last night when Tasha had tugged you out of his house and into a cab.
You make your way toward him, palm outstretched as you reach up and press it to the side of his face. His gaze comes up to meet yours, watery and sad and - god, he's beautiful. So, so beautiful.
"I'm not going anywhere," you whisper honestly, shaking your head and smiling softly, "Not before you teach me at least two hymns."
His frown breaks into a grin and he rolls his eyes, the tears spilling over a little bit as he sniffs and tries to pull himself together. You just bring your other hand up to fully cup his face, turning his head so he's looking directly into your eyes.
"I mean it, Joel," you breathe, and you think you're starting to understand what he meant, "You say you think about me all the time, but... I think about you all the time. I can't stop thinking about you," your voice quivers a bit and you feel tears begin to sting in your own eyes, "Even when I was trying to force myself not to think about you, I couldn't do it."
You thumb his cheeks lightly, feeling them tighten under your palms as he smiles again. You can't help but lean forward to brush your nose against his, closing your eyes.
"I think... I don't know, I just feel like-"
"I know," he interjects softly, "I feel it too, angel. Scares the hell outta me, doesn't even seem possible to feel it after such a short length of time, but I do."
You open your eyes to peer at him again, "Is that why you didn't tell her? 'Cause you were scared of how you feel?"
"Yes," he murmurs, "I knew if I told her... if I let myself really feel what I've been feelin'... I'd have to face the fact that I'd been dishonest with you, that I hadn't been showin' you my true self, ya know? And that's... that's always been hard for me." He takes a breath, "She was real sad that night. She... she was comin' on strong, cause she really needed somebody. And I almost gave myself to her, you should know that. I don't wanna lie to you."
It hurts to hear it, but at the same time you're glad he's telling you, glad he feels safe to express himself the same way you do with him.
"We weren't... we weren't official or anything," you mumble, eyes casting downward.
"No, we weren't," he agrees softly, "But it still wouldn't've been right, angel, not for you and not for me. I didn't want it, I just... I just felt for her, ya know? We've been doin' this thing so long, it can be hard to say no, especially when it's someone you care about."
"But you did."
He nods, "I did. And then I told her about you and she understood."
You peer up at him again, unsure, "She understood? Really?"
He smiles, "She understood, sweetheart. She's a good person, I promise. But I also promise that I don't feel things for her the way I used to, not anymore. And our arrangement is over." He blinks away a few tears, locking his eyes with yours again, "Do you believe me?"
You nod slowly, taking in his words. You find that you do believe him, don't even question a word of what he's saying to you. It should probably scare you to trust him this much, to wholeheartedly sense nothing but earnestness from his demeanor and words, but it doesn't. It feels good to hear him say these things and to know that he means it, that he's finally being himself.
"So who are you then, really?" you ask softly, "Who's this whole other Joel Miller I've been missing out on?"
He laughs lightly, bumping his nose against yours, "Well, darlin'... he's old and he's boring, keeps to himself, works too much..." he takes a breath, then meets your gaze again, eyes soft and tender, "And he's fuckin' crazy about you."
His words embed themselves into your brain almost immediately, sending tingles up and down your spine as your arms come up to wrap around him and pull him into a kiss. He seems surprised by your response but only for a moment, then wraps his own arms around you and pulls you in as close as he can, cradles you as he kisses you back with that familiar warmth and safety you've always felt with him.
He's fuckin' crazy about you.
You find yourself moving the two of you toward the couch and he lets you, your legs tangling together as you shuffle over to it. You slowly settle onto it together, him sitting pretty beneath you while you situate yourself in his lap, a leg on either side of his thighs. You don't stop kissing him, whimpering softly into his mouth when his hand stills firmly on your back, holding you close.
"What're you doin', babygirl?" he breathes against your lips, voice dark and husky - he already knows the answer.
You don't reply, just deepen the kiss and grind yourself down into his crotch, feeling his already half hard cock press against you through your shorts. You whimper again, pulling back to look at him through lidded eyes.
"Huh?" he asks softly, his own eyes already dark and unfocused, "What're you doin', sweetheart? What d'you need?" He bucks his hips up with his words and you gasp, clinging to him tightly and resting your head on his shoulder. "Need my cock, don't you, baby?"
You nod even though he can't see you, close your eyes and whisper, "I need it so bad."
"Need it deep inside, huh?"
You swallow and shiver, grinding down against him again in response. He holds you firm in his lap and brings his lips to your ear, trails his fingers up and down your back.
"I'm gonna give it to you, baby, I promise," he murmurs, voice gravelly and low, "Gonna fill you up so good, have you cryin' on it."
You whimper again, squeezing your eyes tighter and imagining how it'll feel to have his enormous size spreading your insides, pushing into the deepest parts of you. It's almost too much to bear, too much to imagine as you whine into his shoulder. You want it now, but you also know that now isn't the right time.
"I- I started taking birth control," you whisper, clinging to him tighter.
He seems to freeze beneath you for a moment, and then his hands move down to squeeze your ass, drag you slowly down the length of him - now fully hard - as you whine again.
"Good girl," he whispers, pinning you to his cock through his jeans, "That's- fuck, you're such a good girl."
You keen at his praise, whimpering into his shoulder as he drags you back and forth along his cock, the denim rough against your bare thighs. You think about what you'd both done together earlier today, the way it felt to have his entire length thrusting through your folds, the head catching on your hole every so often. The way it felt to have the wide tip pressed just enough inside of you, warm and pulsing.
"Take it out, please," you moan softly, pulling back to look at him again, "Wanna feel it. Please, Joel."
He groans at your words, nods quickly and adjusts you carefully in his lap so he can tug down his zipper. You watch as he reaches inside and pulls himself out, and your mouth immediately begins to water as soon as you catch sight of the dark tip, already wet and leaking. Without any hesitation at all your hand moves downward to wrap around his shaft, holding it in your palm.
"This was inside me," you whisper, the words sounding wonderfully filthy in your mouth as your thumb traces his throbbing tip, remembering how it had felt pushing against you.
"Yeah, it was," he murmurs. He's watching you closely, looking up at you with a lustful expression as you touch him, "Felt so good inside you, baby. Wanted to push all the way in so bad, fill you up."
You shiver, "Why didn't you?"
"'Cause I wanna take my time with you, angel. Wanna fuck you slow, get you used to it," he groans when you start to slowly stroke him up and down, eyes not leaving where you're touching him, "Gonna have you beggin' for it."
Without much thought you reach down and start to tug pathetically at your shorts, wanting them off. The angle is awkward and you can't move them properly, something which he notices right away, eyebrows going up.
"You wanna rub on it again, sweetheart?" he asks, his hands going immediately to your waistband.
You nod furiously, desperate whimpers escaping your lips as he eases you up a bit to pull them down. You bend your legs to accommodate his movements, lifting from his lap for just a moment as he tugs down both your shorts and panties, leaving you bare. He wastes no time in pulling you back down again, both of you letting out simultaneous gasps as his cock slips perfectly against your center, wet and waiting.
"Joel," you whine, burying your face in his shoulder and letting him begin to drag you back and forth on his cock again without any clothes in the way. It feels so fucking good, both of your most intimate parts touching and rubbing in sweet and filthy harmony while you cry into his shirt. One of his hands snakes up your back, holds you firm again as he helps you move.
"That's my perfect angel," he murmurs in your ear, voice shaky, "Thaaaat's my pretty girl, so wet for me. Always so fuckin' wet."
"Can't help it," you sob into his shoulder, feeling your stomach tighten every time his warm cock rubs up against your clit, "Can't help it, Joel, feels so good. You make me feel so good."
"I know," he moans in your ear, "I know I do, baby, I know."
It doesn't take long at all for your orgasm to hit you, a high pitched whine clawing its way out of your throat as you frantically grind against his cock and then still as the waves of pleasure wash over you. He rubs your back, holds you close, lets you feel all of it before pressing a finger to your chin and gently turning your face to look at him.
"Yep," he breathes, assessing your expression, "there's that pool of golden light. Heavenly angels singin' praise. You hear 'em?"
You laugh shakily, still overwhelmed at the feeling of his cock continuing to pulse against your pussy. He keeps holding you there without moving, letting you come down from your high, allowing the moment to stay soft and peaceful as he watches your face. Your eyes are tired - you're still not fully recovered from your busy weekend and he can tell.
"You look sleepy, babygirl," he murmurs softly, "Want me to carry you up?"
You shake your head quickly, "No, I still gotta make you come. Just gimme a minute."
He chuckles, "You don't gotta do anything, honey. You know that right? Need you to know that you don't owe me anythin', not ever."
He really is too considerate for his own good, but there's absolutely no way you're gonna leave him hanging like that. With a sly smile you shake your head again and lift your hips up a bit, bringing your hand down to wrap around his cock again. His jaw goes slack, eyes still staring into yours as you start to stroke him again.
"I wanna make you come," you correct yourself, leaning forward to press a tiny kiss to the corner of his mouth, "I want..." you drop your gaze bashfully, trying to let the dirty talk flow naturally like his does as you play with his cock, "I want you to make a mess on me."
"On you?" he asks, clearly surprised by your sudden boldness, "Where, baby? Where d'you want me to make a mess?"
With your other hand - slightly trembling - you pull your shirt up and palm the swell of your belly, just above your mound. He groans, low and lustful.
"On your tummy, baby?" he murmurs, "You want me to get your tummy all messy with my cum?"
You nod, biting down on your lip and pumping his cock faster, eyes coming back up to meet his gaze again as you get him off.
"Want it to drip down onto your pussy, huh?" he continues, brows drawing together in pleasure, "'Cause that's where it belongs, doesn't it?"
You nod again, "It does, Joel," you whisper, "It belongs there."
"You want me to come inside you this weekend, babygirl?" his voice is strained, so close to edge and you moan at his words, eyes still locked onto his, "Yeah, you do, don't you?"
"I do," you whimper, the truth stumbling from your lips before you can even really process it, "I want it so bad, Joel. Want you to fill me up."
With one last groan his eyes roll back and he starts to come all over your stomach, exactly where you'd wanted him to. Holding him in your hand while he comes is a brand new experience - his cock pulses and twitches within your grasp as he makes a strangled noise and brings his hand up to cover his face, overwhelmed by the sensation. You bite down on your lip and watch as his cum paints your skin in thick spurts, warm and thick.
"Fuck," he finally mutters after a moment of heavy breathing, bringing his hand down from his face to look at you again with a sated expression, "You're filthy, baby."
You feel your cheeks warm, eyes going down to where his cum drips down your belly. His gaze follows yours and he smirks, reaching forward to carefully thumb a bit that's trailing dangerously close to your pussy and pushing it up and away from where it shouldn't go - yet, anyway.
"In more ways than one," he murmurs softly, then meets your gaze again. Despite the depraved circumstances you still can't help but feel shy, head tilting away from him as you smile sheepishly and slip out of his lap, pretending not to hear the embarrassingly loud squelch of wet skin against wet skin. You see him grin in the corner of your eye, clearly still fond of your bashfulness.
"I'm gonna need a shower," you say shyly, eyeing your discarded shorts on the floor.
"Go shower, darlin'," he says, still seated on the couch with his legs open and his softening cock peeking through the open zipper of his jeans, "I'll get my bed all comfy for you."
At the mention of his bed you find a little bit of the anxiety from earlier return in the pit of your stomach, twisting uncomfortably. He notices your reaction immediately, a frown settling into his features as he assesses your expression.
"What is it?"
You avoid eye contact, biting your lip and awkwardly tugging your shirt down over your thighs so you're less exposed, "Um, I know nothing happened, I know you didn't... but um, did..." you grimace, "Did she..."
He stands up immediately, tugging his zipper as he goes and reaching you in a single stride, arms coming up to touch your shoulders. You look up and see him shaking his head, brown eyes softly searching yours.
"She wasn't in my bed, honey," he murmurs quietly, "I promise."
The anxiety settles, and you believe him.
--
You cuddle together in bed for a while after your shower, not really talking but just basking in the feeling of being together again after such a shitshow of a weekend. You're warm and comfy in one of Joel's band t-shirts while he lays beside you, spooning you from behind and pressing soft kisses to the exposed part of your neck every so often, his bare legs tangled with yours beneath the sheets.
Part of you still wants answers, wants to learn more about his relationship with his ex, but another part of you doesn't feel ready yet, doesn't want to ask those questions or face those truths. Your mind is running a mile a minute as you lay there without saying anything, brow furrowed as you weigh the pros and cons in your head.
"D'you wanna talk about it, angel?" Joel finally asks, almost like he can sense exactly what you're feeling, his arms tightening around you. Your eyes close and you sigh deeply, squishing the side of your face into his pillow.
"Talk about what?" you mumble, but he's not buying it.
"I know you have questions," he murmurs, kissing the back of your neck again - grounding you, reminding you that it's okay to be yourself here, "There must be a thousand flyin' around that beautiful head o'yours. And I want you to ask 'em."
You sigh again, quieter this time. He squeezes you and reaches up to pull some of your hair back from your cheek and push it behind your ear, stroking it gently. He presses a small kiss there and noses the space beneath.
"You still feel safe with me, right?" he whispers.
At his words you immediately turn in his embrace, a look of shock forming on your face, "Of course I do," you breathe, "Joel, I've never felt safer with anyone than I do with you."
"Okay, okay, just checkin'," he smiles at you, eyes soft and sleepy, "You just seem... somewhere else. And I know why," his smile turns sad again, "And I hate that you're feelin' this way, darlin'. What can I do?"
You shake your head and reach your hand up to palm the side of his face, thumb stroking his cheek tenderly, "You... you can tell me where it is you're taking me this weekend." It's a cop-out and you both know it, but as usual he doesn't push it - you'll talk about your feelings in your own time.
He turns his head and kisses the palm of your hand gently, "Dallas," he murmurs, "Hotel room's booked."
Your eyebrows shoot up, "Dallas? But that's hours away, isn't it?"
"About three or so," he shrugs, "You ever been?"
"Couple times when I was a kid. Why Dallas?"
His arms tighten around you and he leans forward to lightly brush his nose against yours, "I told you, I wanna take you away. Not just twenty minutes or an hour; I want you to forget about all the shit you're dealin' with here for a little while," he kisses the tip of your nose gently, "What better place to do that than another city?"
The thought makes you smile. He's right; getting as far away from your parents as possible definitely sounds like a more than appealing opportunity. You've been to Dallas before but not since you were a kid, experiences that have pretty much clouded over at this point, what with all the restrictive rules you'd had to face.
"I feel bad..." you suddenly whisper.
His expression falters, "Why, baby?"
"'Cause what if I don't wanna leave the hotel room?" You smile slyly and his grin comes back in full force as he pulls you closer, presses loud kisses along the side of your face as you giggle.
"Who said anything about leavin' the hotel room?" he chuckles, then reaches over you to grab his phone from the night stand, "Plus..." he scrolls through it for a few seconds then turns it to face you, "There may be a more specific reason I chose Dallas."
You peer at his phone, see the image of a poster staring back at you: DALLAS GOSPEL MUSIC FESTIVAL. The dates correlate to this upcoming weekend. Your jaw drops, eyes going wide as you turn back to his suddenly cocky expression - he's beyond proud of himself.
"Joel Miller," you gasp with a grin, slapping his arm playfully, "you're worse than me."
--
"So the whole thing just sounds really cool," you lie to your mother the following day, showing her the poster for the festival you'd printed out, "They're also doing group worship in the mornings and there's some other events happening between the shows, like bible trivia." Kill me now.
She raises an eyebrow, assessing it further, "It's an awfully long drive to Dallas on your own..."
"I like driving, it's peaceful."
"And aren't festivals known to have drugs?"
You resist the urge to roll your eyes, "It's gospel, Mom. I don't think anyone'll be handing out drugs. Plus," you point to the little anti-drug symbol in the corner of the poster, "it's not allowed, see?"
She still looks skeptical, bringing her gaze from the poster to your face, "But you've never wanted to go to something like this before. Why now?"
"I'm just-" you smile as earnestly as you can, "I'm really enjoying my lessons with Mr. Miller. I'd like to go see some professionals perform, get inspired, that kinda thing. I think it'll help me with my technique." Technique, sure. Not as if you've played his guitar more than once at this point.
She grimaces, "It seems an awfully big thing to keep from your father..."
And whose fault is that? "You could tell him I'm visiting another one of my friends?"
She nods slowly, thoughtfully, turning her head to look down at the poster again.
You hate this. You hate how much you're lying. You hate how much she's lying. But more than anything, you hate that you have to lie in the first place. You hate that you have to ask permission, as if you're not a grown adult woman with her own agency. None of this sneaking around and coming up with covers and excuses would even be necessary if your parents just allowed you to be yourself under their roof. The whole thing is so fucked.
"Promise you'll let me know when you get there, and text me every morning and night," she finally says, eyes meeting yours again, "And promise that you'll drive safely."
Relief floods through you, along with that all too familiar guilt, "I promise."
--
The rest of the week passes smoothly, albeit a little slow. Your mother gives your father some kind of excuse about this weekend that seems to appease him, something about a bible study group. You try not to think about how many stories you're weaving together at this point, all of them piling on top of each other and twisting and turning into even bigger and badder lies. It's truly becoming a giant mess, but all of that doesn't seem to matter whenever you think of Joel, of this weekend...
Communication with him is so different now - in the best way. No more short and brief responses, no more wondering what he's thinking or worrying he's no longer interested. You text every single day and talk on the phone in hushed whispers almost every night. You've noticed that he's able to call you earlier now, has stopped going to the bar after work with his crew, but you don't mention it to him. He hasn't been back since last weekend, something that makes you admittedly feel a bit of relief.
You text him on Wednesday afternoon from the parking lot of the grocery store - you've been helping your parents out a bit more now wherever you can, spending your days cleaning the house, doing chores, fulfilling to-do lists, etc. It's the least you can do for essentially stringing them along through the worst web of lies imaginable. This trip, however, you'd caught a glimpse of Bethany in the baking aisle and almost had a heart attack, rushing to the self checkout and scanning all your items before she'd gotten a chance to see you. You haven't spoken to her since the incident in the church bathroom and you don't intend to ever again if you can help it.
almost ran into bethany at the grocery store ahhh!!!! i hate this so much. just wanna leave already and forget about all these people :( miss you. hope your day's going better than mine 💕
You sigh to yourself as you pull out of the parking lot, but your sad demeanor is quickly replaced with a grin when you feel your phone vibrate in your lap. At a red light you look down at it, warmth flooding your cheeks.
Soon, angel. Two more days and it'll just be you and me. Can't wait to treat you the way you deserve. I know just the thing to make your day better, call me tonight x
That night he whispers filthy things in your ear while you finger yourself, face buried in your pillow, thumb rubbing furiously against your clit. Your face is hot and your lower half is bare against the sheets, sticky and soft. You're imagining how his cock will feel inside you, buried to the hilt, pulsing deep and wet and warm. The thought is almost too much to bear - you've been physically incapable of thinking of anything else lately.
"Wanna feel it in my stomach, Joel, just like you said," you whine into the pillow, tears stinging your eyes as your pleasure nears its peak. "Please, please."
"You will, babygirl," he gasps, voice low and shaky as he tugs at his cock and groans on the other line, "God you're such a good girl beggin' for it like that. Ask me again, honey, ask for my cock."
"Please, Joel," you try to keep your voice quiet but it's so hard, your fingers plunging in and out of yourself at the exact speed you wish he was fucking you, "Please, Mr. Miller. Please give me your cock."
He lets out another groan, "Oh god, baby, I'm so fuckin' close. Ask me for my cum, angel. Ask for it real pretty and polite."
His words send you over the edge as your hand stutters against your pussy and halts, your whole body trembling as you fall face forward onto the bed. Your skin ignites with even more heat as you shut your eyes tight and whisper, "Please gimme your cum, Joel. Want your cum."
You hear him inhale sharply and then exhale even louder, can almost see the white of his cum behind your lids, dripping all over his bare stomach. You can feel your own slick dripping down your inner thigh, staining your sheets. You wonder if your mom has noticed how often you've been changing your bedding lately, but part of you can't really bring yourself to care.
You try to imagine what it would be like for him to pump you full, for his release to leak out of you, what it would look like, feel like... The thought makes goosebumps rise all over your flesh, especially when you remember that he'd already asked if that's what you wanted. In the heat of the moment you'd said yes, and even now you find that you still do. You have been taking your little pill every day at the same time after all, a fact he's very much aware of.
You turn over in bed and snap a quick picture of your bare pussy, wet and used. It's the second time you've done it this week. You send it without saying anything and smile when you hear him groan again on the other line.
"Perfect little pussy," he whispers, and you can hear the pout in his expression.
"It's yours," you murmur sleepily, feeling yourself begin to drift as you bury your face in your pillow again, "It's all yours, Joel."
--
The only issue that inevitably pops up is the driving arrangement. To your parents knowledge you're traveling to Dallas alone, so leaving in your own car is a vital detail. You want to ride in Joel's truck though, but you're not sure it's feasible with the amount of eyes on you, the questions your parents will ask if your car stays in the driveway.
"That's easy to figure out, darlin'," Joel reassures you over the phone the next morning, "Lemme make a call to my brother, I'm pretty sure he's got a spot in a garage he ain't usin' right now."
You grimace at the thought of someone you don't know doing you a favor, "He won't mind?"
Joel snorts, "Tommy? Not at all, angel. Don't you worry."
You've only heard him talk about Tommy once, that day on his back deck when he'd told you about his upbringing. You'd been under the impression that they didn't have a very good relationship, what with being compared to each other their whole lives. Maybe you'd been wrong about it. You've certainly been wrong about a lot of things. You file it away as another question to ask once you finally work up the courage.
You have to admit, it feels really good to have someone take care of things like this, telling you not to worry, handling everything that's difficult. You've been carrying such a load of bullshit for your entire life and knowing that Joel's in charge this weekend just makes you feel safe. Protected. Cared for. You feel like you could ask him for anything and he'd somehow make it happen for you, something you've never really experienced before. Your parents have always been hesitant to spoil you despite their wealth, had rarely ever taken you on vacations that weren't undercut with the promise of learning or preaching. Your desires and needs have always taken a backseat to appearances, standards, bigger goals. You've never really felt you could ever relax with them, ask for things, be yourself.
It feels so fucking good to have Joel Miller.
Your parents have already left for the day when you climb into your car on Friday morning, tossing your travel bag in the backseat and switching on the ignition with a smile on your face. You and Joel have it all figured out - he'd talked to his brother and there's indeed a space for you to park your car in for the weekend. Joel surprised you even more by taking the day off, so you're meeting him at the garage in about an hour's time. Before then, though... you think another shopping trip is in order - for one specific item in particular.
--
The lingerie store doesn't seem as scary this time around. Last time you hadn't even been able to step foot inside, but this time you're more prepared, ready for the skimpy mannequins and uniquely shaped underwear. You're still not really exactly sure what you're looking for, but you don't panic this time when a salesclerk walks over to you with a smile and asks if she can help you. She's probably around your mom's age, something you're not sure makes you uncomfortable or not.
"Um, yeah," you say awkwardly, unable to make direct eye contact, "I was wondering if you have anything...um... like..." you try to find the words, heart beating a bit quicker in your chest, "Something cute? But sexy too, but, um, not too sexy, if that makes sense," you feel your cheeks warm as you babble, thinking of the spiked bras and crotchless panties you'd seen last time, "Just something not too crazy, something pretty but still... still sexy." God, how many times did you just say the word sexy?
The woman just smiles and nods without any ounce of judgement whatsoever, "I know just the thing, sweetie, follow me." Well, despite being around the same age, your mother would certainly never call you sweetie. She'd also never go lingerie shopping with you either; the very thought is laughable.
She leads you to a section full of floral themed sets, brightly colored and soft, lacy and delicate. Your eyes widen a bit at the selection, the options in shapes and sizes, colors and transparency, boy shorts and g strings. You have to admit that you could see yourself wearing pretty much anything here - it's right up your alley, and you're pretty sure it's Joel's preference as well.
"As you can see, we have a big range," the salesclerk says with another smile, "Some of them are more simple than others if that's what you're looking for," she picks up one of the sets, blue and frilly with little forget-me-nots embroidered over the nipples, "This one is very popular, and comfortable too, speaking from experience."
You nod, analyzing it carefully and trying your best not to picture the salesclerk wearing it, "Thanks, but I'll, uh, just have a look myself, if that's okay?"
"Of course!" she puts the set back down and tosses you one last smile, "Take your time, sweetie. Let me know if you need anything."
Being around your parents so much this summer has really messed with your psyche. You find it odd to encounter people like this, people your parents age, Joel's age, who clearly have no qualms about dressing sexually. It's almost the way you'd felt when you first got to college, the culture shock of taking ownership of your own body and doing what you want with it, not constantly wondering if you're going to go to hell for showing too much skin. It reminds you yet again of your own naivety, everything you've been missing up to this point.
But also... everything you're going to experience this weekend. That is why you're here, after all.
You end up picking out what you believe to be the prettiest set. It's white and transparent in certain places, edged in pink and covered in little embroidered flowers, purple and yellow and green. The bra has buttons in the center that you're not sure actually work or are just for show... though regardless, you imagine Joel slowly fingering them while you peer up from below on the hotel bed, a thought that makes your cheeks burn. The panties are cute and look easy to slip on and off but there's an odd third component, just as pretty with straps that lead to nothing. You furrow your brow, staring at it.
You could ask the salesclerk what it is but you really don't want to embarrass yourself. Instead you take a picture and send it in your group chat:
buying lingerie, what is this?? help!!
Of course, Tasha is the first to reply:
IT'S A GARTER BELT, BABE. HOLDS UP STOCKINGS IN A FUN SEXY WAY. SO BUY STOCKINGS. also that's cute as fuuuuck. ur gonna give the old man a heart attack
You stifle a laugh and shove your phone back in your pocket, picking up the entire set and walking to the cash. You grab a pair of sheer white stockings in your size and slip everything onto the counter, still avoiding eye contact as the salesclerk from before walks behind and starts ringing everything up.
"Find everything you were looking for, sweetie? Did you want to try any of this on before you purchase?"
You shake your head immediately, "No, that's okay." The thought of trying any of this stuff on in a public place is definitely still a little too much outside your comfort zone.
The clerk nods and turns the card reader to you with a smile, "That'll be a hundred and fifty eight dollars."
You're pretty sure you've never looked more shocked in your life.
why is being sexy so awkward and expensive?
welcome to my life sister
158 DOLLARS FOR 3 SCRAPS OF MATERIAL
that's it, let it all out
--
The garage Joel gave you the address for isn't too far from the mall, hidden down a few side streets where you feel confident your parents will never accidentally come across it. With a significantly emptier wallet, you pull into the parking lot and spot Joel's truck, smiling when you see him get out to wave you over. He's wearing one of your favorite flannels - green and black, similar to the one you keep under your mattress - and another band t-shirt underneath; you've lost track of how many he has at this point.
"There's my girl," he says as you pull up beside him with the window rolled down. He leans against your car, tips his head in to kiss you gently, "Find it okay? Directions were clear?"
You can't help but roll your eyes with a giggle, "I just typed it into the Maps app, Joel. Didn't need all the rights and lefts."
He chuckles, "Follow me, I'll show you where to park it."
You inch along behind him as he leads you into the relatively small parking garage and gestures to the right. There's an open spot between an RV trailer and a pick-up truck.
"Those are both Tommy's," he says with a sly smile, "So feel free to scratch 'em up if you want."
You roll your eyes again and carefully pull into the space, being sure to avoid any of the encouraged scratching. It's a comfortable fit and you grab your things from the backseat before climbing out to meet Joel behind your car.
"Hi," you say quietly, peering up at him with a soft smile, not caring that you already had your introduction a few minutes ago. All you can think about now is the time that stretches out in front of you, an entire weekend of just you and him.
"Hi, angel," he murmurs, and you feel his hands come up to squeeze your arms, pull you in close, "Ready to get outta here?" You nod excitedly and he gestures toward the garage entrance, "Then let's hit the road."
--
Three hours on the road passes much quicker than you thought it would. You remember road trips with your parents as a kid, traveling miles in random directions to witness supposed "miracles" or visit religious sites. Before he'd joined the police force your father had been a pretty prominent presence in church groups all throughout the southern states, and by proxy you and your mother had too. You can't really remember much of the experience other than having to constantly be on your best behavior, put on a perfect front no matter what. It was exhausting. Not to mention the only music you could listen to had to be pre-approved by your parents. You'd sit in the back seat with perfect posture, mouthing along to songs about God while you stared longingly at the kids in cars passing by, screaming songs that were forbidden to you at the top of their lungs.
You tell Joel about it. The first twenty minutes or so of the drive is spent unloading your past road trip experiences, something you genuinely hadn't planned on doing. But talking to him is just so easy. The words fall from your lips without any hesitance whatsoever, no fear that he'll ask why you put up with it, why you didn't stand up for yourself, those questions you'd been asked by people at college whenever you mentioned your upbringing. He listens attentively, reaches over and picks up your hand to place it on his thigh, squeezes it reassuringly.
"I'm just rambling now," you finally say with a shake of your head, "The point is, this is my first road trip without all those rules, you know? So it's just... I'm just really excited."
"I get it, honey. And I'm glad I can give you this experience," he turns to look at you with a crooked smile, "Among others." Your cheeks warm.
As usual, he commands the space he's in. He's so big and broad in the front seat, one large hand on the wheel while the other caresses your fingers, thumbs your palm. His forearms are thick and freckled, lined with veins and little nicks and cuts here and there from work. The grey in his scruff reflects light in the sun, sending little twinkles and glimmers into your periphery every so often. He's so perfect, sitting there beside you. So handsome. Yours.
"Which band is that?" you ask him, genuinely curious as your eyes trail down to his t-shirt. You can't help but assume that it's some kind of metal band, what with all the skulls.
"This?" he tugs at it, eyes falling to where you're looking, "Grateful Dead."
"Oh, cool."
He smiles sympathetically, "You have no idea who they are, do you?"
"Is it that obvious?"
He laughs and squeezes your hand again, then lets go to reach into the center console for his phone. You watch him unlock it and pull his face back to squint at it, eyes flicking back and forth between the screen and the road while he tries to access something.
"I can do it," you offer, and without any qualms he slips his phone into your hand with a smile.
"I- uh- I made a playlist," he says, turning his attention to the road again, "For the trip. There's some Grateful Dead on there, if you wanna hear it. You can add your own stuff to it too, don't want you thinkin' you can only listen to my shit."
You don't know why the concept of Joel making a playlist specifically for your trip is so fucking adorable, but it is. You can't help but smile as you open Spotify and spot it immediately - simply called Dallas. You scroll through it and pick the first Grateful Dead song you spot.
"Wait," you say, scrunching your eyebrows as soft guitar fills the truck, gentle and smooth, "This is Grateful Dead?"
He chuckles, "What were you expectin'?"
"Somebody screaming, maybe? Especially for a song called Friend of The Devil," you turn to him with a shake of your head, "God, you're telling me this is the kinda shit my parents forbid me from listening to? It's literally just some guy."
He laughs again, deep and genuine, "Half the shit parents forbid their kids from listenin' to ain't even that bad. I remember a couple years before my momma died, she told me she'd heard this new singer called Bruce Springsteen, absolutely loved him," he grins at the memory, "Meanwhile she'd thrown out all my Springsteen records when I was sixteen, said they were filth."
"Did you remind her?"
He shakes his head, "Nah, I let her believe he really was some new singer she'd discovered. Wouldn't have done any good to rub it in her face. We'd already made peace."
You think about that concept - peace. The very thought of ever having a peaceful relationship with your own parents feels foreign and downright impossible, a feeling that makes you ridiculously sad if you think about it too long. You don't want to entertain the idea of having to say goodbye to them completely at any point, for them to be out of your life entirely because they don't want you anymore. You're glad Joel was able to make peace with his mother, but after years? After his father had passed away? The thought is frightening.
"Now, Backstreet Boys," Joel continues with a wry smile, "that's a band you gotta watch out for. I had to stare at those faces every time I went in Sarah's room for years. Talk about trauma."
The discomfort fades almost immediately, a natural giggle bubbling past your lips at his words. You like hearing him mention his daughter so casually - you're finally in the loop, finally getting to see the real him, hear his unfiltered thoughts.
"Can I... can I ask you something about Sarah?"
His expression changes then, not into one of anger or guilt, but surprise. He nods immediately, reaches back over to take your hand in his, "Of course you can, angel. Anythin' you want."
"Um, how old is she?" You've already done the math in your head, but you want to be sure, want to hear it from him.
"She's thirty eight," he gives you a look, "Does that make you feel weird?"
You shake your head, "No, it doesn't." You mean it. You'd probably find it weirder if she was closer to your age, but thirty eight... a full grown woman, out of the house and living her own life for years. There's something different about that, something that doesn't bring you any discomfort.
"I just wanna say... I've... I've never been with anyone your age," he looks away again, like he's worried about seeing your face as he says it, "You're the youngest person I've been with, save for when I was that age myself." He grimaces, "I don't... I don't go around preyin' on young girls or anything, if you were worried about that. I know the first day we met might've made you think otherwise, but-"
You smile softly as he babbles, "I believe you, Joel. I mean... I can't say the thought didn't cross my mind. I was a bit worried about that this weekend, when I saw you and Sarah. I thought she was my age."
He laughs a little breathlessly, shaking his head, "Oh, she'd be very pleased to hear that, lemme tell you." He makes a face. "The thinkin' she's your age part, not the part about you thinkin' we were together. She probably wouldn't like that so much."
You giggle, "Yeah, probably not."
"But I do mean it, honey. I'm not that kinda man, or at least I never thought I was," he bites his lip, "You kinda turned my whole world upside down that day, if I'm bein' honest."
You don't really know what to say in response, but you feel pride swell in your chest at his words. You reach your other hand over and place it on top of where you're already entwined, peering up at him fondly, hoping he can sense what you're feeling. The song switches over to something else then, another guitar heavy tune. You recognize the melody immediately, your eyes going wide.
"Speaking of the first day we met," you say softly, hoping he'll recognize the significance - and he does. He peers at you with that beautifully tender expression he reserves only for you, grip tightening beneath your other hand.
"Tangled Up in Blue, Bob Dylan."
"I knew it was Bob Dylan."
"Good ear. You play?"
"Um, not really."
The memory sends tingles down your spine. How was that only a few weeks ago? How have you gone from being the shy and bashful girl at the end of Joel Miller's walkway to the girl sitting in his truck holding his hand on a three hour road trip to another city? Talking about your life, his life, the things that matter? The girl with lingerie and birth control packed neatly in your travel bag?
"I'm still plannin' on teachin' you how to play this," he finally says, smirking, "Don't think you can get off easy just 'cause we're focusin' on the hymns."
You roll your eyes with a grin, "When you actually teach me a hymn, we'll talk."
--
It doesn't take long to realize that driving with Joel is very distracting. Not only is he so large and broad in the seat beside you, looking gorgeous and charming as he always does, but he also smells fucking delicious. Being in such close proximity to him in a small space, being able to smell his cologne mixed with the sheer scent of him, raw and masculine and sexy. It just reminds you of how it feels to be underneath him, overwhelmed by him entirely, feeling the rough edges of his body against yours.
You've had the windows rolled up since the first hour, turned on the AC once you'd gotten on the highway and let the cool air fill the truck. But now it's just circulating that fucking smell, thick and heady as you watch little droplets of sweat form on Joel's forehead, trickle down his temples. You feel a throb in your panties, a surge of release, and you clench your thighs together.
"You okay, babygirl?" he asks you softly, reaching over to place his big hand on your bare thigh - of course he'd noticed your change in demeanor immediately, "Need to stop somewhere and use the bathroom?"
His hand on your thigh just makes you clench tighter, makes you lean back lazily in your seat and let out a quiet whimper. You turn and look at him the exact moment his gaze reaches your face, reads it, tries to make sense of what you need.
"What is it?" he murmurs, hand slowly rubbing your skin, "What's got you makin' sounds like that, huh?"
You whimper again, already fully decided on what you want. Your hand goes down to grip his, move it upwards to the crotch of your shorts. His jaw slackens, eyes going dark.
"Need your pussy touched, baby?"
You nod, feeling heat flood your cheeks at his words. You watch as he assesses the road in front of him, the lane beside him. He chews the inside of his cheek and seems to settle on something internally. He keeps his eyes trained ahead while his hand fiddles with the zipper on your shorts.
"Unbutton those for me, pretty girl," he says, voice suddenly low, and you don't need telling twice. You practically tear your shorts open and allow him to reach his hand inside - it's so big and warm, hairy knuckles and callused fingertips slipping past the band of your underwear. Another pitiful sound falls from your lips as his index drops to your entrance and immediately slips inside.
"Joel," you whisper, tilting your head back and closing your eyes as he pushes knuckle deep inside you, filling you quickly and easily.
He doesn't say anything, just prods a second finger against your hole and slowly pushes it alongside the first. You take him so easy now; it doesn't burn the way it did those first few times, and it certainly helps that you're also soaking wet, practically dripping through your shorts.
"That's it," he murmurs softly beside you, other hand still on the wheel while he monitors the traffic around him, "That feel better, baby?"
"Y-yes," you breathe, looking down again to watch the lewd actions happening in your lap, watch the way his hand moves back and forth in your shorts as he pulls his fingers in and out of you.
"Just close your eyes and relax, angel," he tells you gently, "I'll take care of it."
You do as he says, letting yourself relax as best you can while he continues to slowly fuck you with his fingers. Another song starts playing, something low with a steady beat that he suddenly sets the pace to, speeding up as you open your legs a bit wider and moan softly. His thumb finds your clit and circles it, making you whine.
"Shhh, it's okay," your hear him say beside you, working his fingers, "It's alright, babygirl. Gonna give you what you need."
You moan again at the images that flood your brain, the thought of being underneath him in only a couple hours time, the feeling of his cock pushing inside, filling you up in just the way you've been aching for. You imagine his heavy breaths, hot and sticky against your skin. The smell of his cologne, his sweat. The coarseness of his pubic hair against your bare pussy. You writhe in the seat and tighten your thighs together, another whine slipping from your mouth.
"I got you," he murmurs, and he does. It doesn't take much else at all for you to climax, and he gets you there quickly with a few more circles of his thumb, the stiffness of his fingers, his name slipping past your lips as you come.
You lay loose and pliant in your seat for a moment, eyes still closed. He goes to remove his hand from your shorts but you stop him, reaching down to hold his wrist and keep his warm hand inside. He cups your pussy gently and just holds it, the palm of his hand sitting firmly atop your throbbing hole, rhythmically pulsing against his skin.
"Just keep it there," you whisper, chest heaving, "Please."
"Christ," he grunts under his breath, and you open your eyes to look at him, see the flush of his skin as he looks at you with desire in his eyes, "You were right, babygirl. I don't think we'll be leavin' that hotel room."
--
You like Joel's playlist a lot. After stopping into a gas station to clean up a bit, you sit in the passenger seat while he loads up on gas and scroll through it on your own phone, liking certain tracks that have stood out to you. His musical range is very broad; there's a lot of artists on it that you've never heard of, but you're not sure if that's just because of how sheltered you've been or because he's so much older than you. You choose to believe it's the latter - you hate thinking about how much you've missed out on. He'd said you could add some of your own songs but the thought makes you feel embarrassed; you haven't really had much time to form your own music taste, have spent your college experience so far just listening to whatever's popular since you couldn't when you were younger. You wouldn't even know what to add.
You scroll back up to the top of the playlist and tap Joel's profile out of curiosity, wondering if he has any other public playlists. You smile to yourself when you see titles like BBQ, 80s Tunes, Good Solos, Acoustic, Oldies, Angel.
Hold on...
Angel
You stare at it for a moment, thumb hovering over the icon but making no move to actually press it. You suddenly feel like you're invading his privacy somehow, like this isn't something he'd want you to see, not unless he said you could. With all the strength you can muster you hit the back button and return to the Dallas playlist, tapping a random song and locking your phone.
Joel gets back in the truck, oblivious to your discovery. "Gettin' closer, darlin'. You excited?"
You smile, warmth bursting in your chest, "Can't wait."
--
The conversation drifts here and there throughout the rest of the drive, both of you asking and answering questions back and forth about your lives, your pasts, your interests, your dislikes. You learn that Joel really likes music. You've known this, of course - it's not like it's some huge surprise - but hearing him talk about the artists he likes, the instruments, the melodies, the lyrics... you can hear the passion in his voice, the adoration for his favorites, the infatuation with certain lines and words. He loves music.
"Why aren't you a musician?" you ask him, genuinely curious, "Like, this really seems like something you should be doing professionally."
He chuckles at that, shakes his head, "Knowin' a lot about somethin' doesn't necessarily constitute a career in it," he shrugs, "I mean... I can't say I never thought about it. To be honest, when I was a teenager I did dream about performin' live, recordin' an album, all that jazz."
"So... why didn't you?"
He tilts his head with a half smile, "I think you're forgettin' the part where I became a dad right outta high school."
You wince, "Oh. Right."
He laughs, "S'okay. I mean, I still probably coulda done it. But there was a period there in those early years where I stopped playin' altogether, so it kinda just... slipped my mind."
You frown, "What happened? If you don't mind me asking."
He takes a breath, thoughtful for a moment as he tightens his grip on the wheel and squeezes your hand at the same time, like he's preparing himself - or preparing you.
"Well, uh... Sarah's mom, she left." Your lips part in surprise but you don't say anything, giving him a few seconds to collect his thoughts again before continuing, "She, uh, she had really bad post-partum depression, lasted a really long time. Of course, at the time, that kinda thing wasn't really talked about very much. And on top o' that we were both living with her parents since I'd been kicked out and we couldn't afford to go anywhere else. Even when we finally managed to move out they stayed in our business."
"And her parents... were they...?"
"They were strict, yeah," his jaw tenses, "They were... they were very hard on her, which made it worse. And she never wanted to be a mom, ya know? She was only seventeen when it happened and it completely uprooted all her plans. She'd wanted to get outta Texas, go to California or New York, get away from her parents and all the bullshit." He sighs, shaking his head slightly at the memory, "But livin' where we did, abortion was outta the question and her parents were our only option."
He's not looking at you but you can see the pain in his expression, the regret. A wave of sadness washes over you as you watch him talk about this particularly difficult part of his past, a part you'd been curious about ever since last weekend but had been too afraid to ask about. You're not really sure what to say.
"They made us get married," he makes a face, "And I mean, it's not like we weren't in love at that point, 'cause we were. She was my high school sweetheart and I loved her so much, I wanted it to work. But she was so unhappy. So distant. And when Sarah was born it was like she was gone. The Mish I knew just completely disappeared." He finally looks at you, expression apologetic, "That's her name - Mish. Well, Michelle, but she hates Michelle. God," he sighs exasperatedly, "I'm sorry, darlin', I shouldn't be ramblin' on about this."
You shake your head quickly, pulling your hand from his grip to lay it on top of his and squeeze, a comforting gesture, "No, Joel, don't apologize. Tell me. I wanna know."
He peers at you, hesitant, "You're sure?"
"Yes. I... I wanna know you, if you'll let me." You squeeze his hand again, reassuring him quietly.
So he tells you. He tells you about getting his first real job in construction, working the latest hours possible to earn as much as he could to get the three of them out of Mish's parents house and into their own. He tells you about Sarah being born, how he'd never felt as happy in his entire life as he did when he first held her in his arms, how she was a light in the darkness for him, lit up the room with her killer smile and big brown eyes. He tells you how he'd woken up one morning to a note from Mish, telling him that she couldn't do it anymore, that she had to get out before the situation swallowed her whole. He tells you about how his little brother Tommy, the one you'd thought he disliked, the golden boy, started skipping school to take care of Sarah when Joel couldn't - not because Joel asked him, but because he'd wanted to help.
"They say it takes a village," he says with a soft smile, "But for me, I had my brother and that was enough. It was like the past however many years of that godforsaken rivalry our parents pushed on us hadn't even happened."
"This coming from the person who asked me to scratch his truck an hour ago," you tease, and he just laughs, peering over at you with a genuine smile and tears shining in his eyes. There he is, the real him.
"Mish, she uh-" he clears his throat, "She came back, when Sarah was a little older, but then she disappeared again, same story. We found out later that she was dealin' with a whole lot more than post partum. I won't go into the details but once she got on the right meds, started therapy, she came back to us. Took a little while for things to settle - we tried on our relationship again, but we realized we just didn't fit, it was never gonna work." You squeeze his hand again. "She stayed in our lives though, became a good mom to Sarah, that's what mattered most."
"And you were just... you were just alone, through all of that?" you ask quietly, "I mean, I know you had Tommy, but... that must've been so hard." You can't even imagine dealing with all of that, find it difficult to comprehend the fact that Joel had become a father when he was younger than you, had to drop all his dreams and desires and start living entirely for someone else. "Didn't your parents ever try to reach out at all? Didn't they want to know Sarah?"
He sighs, eyes on the road, "My momma did, I know she did. But my father wouldn't let her, and she did as he said, no questions asked."
You can't help but picture your own parents, the way your mother bends over backwards to police herself around your father, the way she's taught you your entire life to do the same. The way she can't even talk to him about what's really going on - or at least what she thinks is going on - for fear of him winding up in control of the situation, making the decisions for her.
"I wonder if my mom would still wanna see me if she knew what I've been doing," you say aloud, unable to keep the thought to yourself. "Or if my dad would force her to shut me out."
Once again your hands swap places, Joel wrapping his fingers around your palm and gripping it tightly. But he doesn't say anything, doesn't give you any words of reassurance, and you know it's because he can't.
--
A soft kiss to your right cheek, then your left. Whiskered and warm. Your eyes flutter open and you see Joel leaning over the center console with a tender smile on his face, brown eyes peering down at you fondly.
"We're here, baby," he murmurs.
You blink a few times, confused. Only moments ago you'd been listening to music, chatting about your degree and answering Joel's questions about your other life, the one where your parents aren't in charge. He'd been so attentive, so interested in learning more about you. You vaguely remember a song coming on, slow and melodic, and then...
"I fell asleep?" you ask blearily, sitting up a bit.
"Out like a light," he says with a smile, "Had to skip all my heavy metal."
You roll your eyes and peer out the window, confused by the darkness beyond.
"We're in the parking garage at the hotel," he clarifies quickly, leaning back into his own seat, "Ready to check in?"
You nod and yawn, opening the passenger side door and stepping out to stretch your arms above your head. It feels good to be out of the small confines of Joel's truck, even though it was nice while it lasted. He follows suit and walks around the side to grab the luggage from the back.
"You brought your guitar?" you ask, watching as he picks up the long black carrying case and slips it over his shoulder.
"That I did," he replies with a wink, "Gotta get that lesson in, right?"
You feel heat bloom in your cheeks and avoid his flirtatious gaze, moving toward the truck bed to grab your bag. He gets to it first, picks up both his bag and yours and carries them easily in both hands, walking over to meet you on the other side of the truck.
"I can take mine," you offer, "That's a lot to carry."
He just chuckles and shakes his head, walking in front of you, "You ain't liftin' one single finger on this trip, sweetheart."
Walking from the darkness of the parking garage to the suddenly blaringly bright sun of Dallas is disconcerting at first, but certainly not unwelcome. Your eyes squint against the sunlight, focus on Joel's broad back as he walks in front of you with all the bags, guitar case swinging from his shoulder. God, he looks good carrying all that, big hands gripping the handles of the bags as he saunters ahead. That's yours, you remind yourself yet again, he's yours.
You're so distracted by how good he looks that you barely really take notice of the hotel until you're pushing past the doors into the main lobby, and that's when you freeze in place with your jaw practically on the floor.
What the fuck?
When Joel told you he'd booked a hotel, the only thing you'd really pictured in your mind was the room itself. You'd imagined a pretty sizeable room with a big bed, an ensuite bathroom and maybe a balcony if you were lucky. You've never really spent much time in a hotel before, especially nothing fancy or expensive. When you'd traveled with your parents you usually stayed with family friends or other parishioners; they hadn't wanted to expose you to too much luxury or wealth. It's hypocritical now when you think back on it, considering the large house your parents live in, the pool, the cars, the boat your father wants to buy. They'd had money to throw away on those things but couldn't splurge on a hotel room every once in a while? Couldn't treat you to something you really wanted?
Now you stand in an absolutely gorgeous main lobby, all marble floors and bright greenery, glints of gold and crystal and diamonds everywhere you turn. You suddenly feel like you've walked into a European country - how the fuck did you drive three hours from Austin and end up in a place like this?
Joel is stalling a few feet in front of you, that cocky smile in full view as he watches your reaction, "Ain't too shabby, huh?"
You're still staring with wide eyes at the sleek floors, the glittering fountains, the fucking bell-hops wearing those silly little outfits. You turn back to Joel with a shake of your head, mouth open.
You barely register the checking-in process, too mesmerized by your surroundings to pay attention. A bell-hop loads up your bags onto a luggage cart, the clerk hands Joel a key card, and you're still in complete awe of what you've just walked into as you follow Joel almost robotically to the elevator without speaking.
This is too much, you want to say.
How much did you spend? you want to ask.
The room itself is fucking beautiful, overlooking the hustle and bustle of the city below, a sight you already know will look gorgeous when the sun goes down and the buildings are lit up. The bed is huge, much bigger than you'd anticipated, with a giant flatscreen TV on the wall overtop a confusingly high-tech looking fireplace. There's a comfy looking couch and an ensuite to your right, and a fucking balcony, just like you'd hoped for. You stand in complete silence in the doorway for a solid minute until the bell-hop is gone and Joel has to nudge you forward a little to shut the door.
"Say somethin'," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around you from behind and nuzzling his face in your neck.
You shake your head again, eyes still wide, "I- I don't even know what to say."
"D'you like it?" his voice is muffled in the warmth of your neck, lips pressing a soft kiss there as his arms squeeze you gently, "Tell me what you're thinkin'."
You swallow around the lump in your throat, close your eyes through freshly stinging tears and lean back into his embrace. "I'm thinking that.... that I can't believe you did all this for me."
He kisses your neck again, slow and sweet, "Of course I did, angel. S'what you deserve."
You open your eyes and look down to see his big arms holding you tightly, feel the firm warmth of him at your back, smell that heady and delicious scent of his cologne. This isn't some dream you're having, some weird and sinful idea you came up with in your head; this is real. You're really here, standing in a beautiful hotel room with the most beautiful man you could ever imagine. You feel so safe.
And now you have an entire weekend to show him how much that means to you, a thought that sends a chill up your spine when your gaze rises back up to the bed. There it is. That's where it's going to happen.
"So... what's the plan?" you ask quietly.
He chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your ear before pulling back and spinning you around in his embrace, peering down at you with a soft expression. "Anythin' you want," he says with a smile, "You're in charge."
You can't help but feel yourself pout a bit, "What if I don't wanna be in charge?"
He leans down and brushes his nose against yours softly, "Well, then I'd say..." he's cut off by a sudden gurgling sound, and your eyes widen when you realize it's your stomach - you haven't eaten since this morning. He laughs lightly, pulling back to assess you fondly, "I'd say we better head down to the dining room and get some food in you."
You grimace, even though you know he's right. "Spoke too soon."
--
While you enjoyed the thrill of the hotel surprise, part of you wishes Joel had told you what kind of place this was so you could have packed accordingly. You definitely didn't pack anything super elegant or fancy, although you had packed all the dresses you'd bought a little while ago, the ones you'd tried on in his kitchen and haven't had an opportunity to wear since. You assess your options now, bag open on the couch, fingers trailing through the different fabrics. The little pink bag with your new lingerie still sits tucked into the side, and you wonder if you should wear it underneath whatever you choose to wear for dinner. As usual, you're not really sure how this kind of thing is supposed to work.
You settle on the pink one; you know from past experience that Joel's certainly a fan of that color on you. You take it into the bathroom along with the lingerie while he rummages through his own clothes, oblivious.
"Okay," you whisper to yourself as you stand in front of the mirror and tug off your t-shirt, then shorts. You stare at yourself in your underwear and bra for a few seconds, then carefully peel them from your body and reach inside the little pink bag. You'd already cut the tags off - no going back now.
The set fits perfectly, hugging your soft curves and the swells of your breasts, shaping your tummy and accentuating your thighs. You look good, as much as you feel odd admitting that to yourself. It's still been hard to look in the mirror lately and see what Joel sees, to not feel guilty for simply having a body. It gives you a similar feeling to how you'd felt in your bikini, though the lingerie leaves a lot less to the imagination with its transparent material and plunging panty line.
You tug on the dress and then the sheer white stockings, loving the way they stop at your thighs just under the dress and show off a small sliver of bare skin beneath the hem. You decide to leave the garter belt in the bathroom until later, tucking it into one of the cupboards underneath some towels. You peer at yourself in the mirror again, assessing yourself up and down and hoping Joel will like what he sees.
He does.
The second you come out of the bathroom you see him pause, looking up from where he's buttoning up a nice black dress shirt to gaze at you hungrily. His lips part, eyes going hooded as he walks over to you and firmly palms your lower back, pulls you close and trails his other hand up the side of your body.
"Christ," he breathes, almost a growl, "You're so fuckin' pretty."
Without any other words one of his hands suddenly reaches up your dress, grips tight to one of your thighs. You gasp, eyes widening as he thumbs the bare skin just beneath your panties, pulling back to peer down at you with a lustful expression.
"God, I could fuck you right now," he mutters, and the words send a squeak past your lips, a gush of wetness into your brand new panties, "Yeah, you want me to bend you over and fill you up? 'Cause you look positively sinful right now."
You whimper, tempted immediately by his words, at the thought of being bent over the edge of the bed and taken right there without any preparation. But you know that's not how you want this to go; if it was, you'd have already been fucked by him ages ago. And you know that he knows it too, that he wants the same things you want - to take it slow, to take your time, feel everything the way you want to feel it.
It doesn't mean you can't tease him, though. "Would you actually?" you ask softly, voice shaking a little bit in anticipation.
"God, yes, I would," he murmurs, "Just say the word and I will."
You bite your lip, almost genuinely considering it for a moment before your stomach suddenly growls again and you sigh exasperatedly.
He smiles, leans down to press his lips to your ear, "We have all weekend, remember?"
You shiver at the thought.
--
Dinner is beyond lovely, delicious dishes served on sparkling silver platters in a grand dining room, bottomless champagne which you surprise yourself by indulging in - about a glass and a half - and a live band performing some soft jazzy numbers on a stage nearby. It's so romantic, so dazzling and classy and like nothing you've ever experienced before. Your eyes flicker back and forth between everything periodically, like you can't really believe you're sitting here - but you are.
It feels so nice to sit in a public place with Joel, be surrounded by people who have no idea who you are and no concept of the secret nature of your relationship. It's just normal, easy, no need to be guarded or quiet or pretend you're something you're not. He smiles at you from across the table and you smile back easily without any pretenses, without that nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you to be on your best behavior. You can just be yourself.
He's so handsome, dressed mostly in black with his greying curls gelled back a bit, deep chocolate eyes almost never leaving yours. He looks at you like you're the only person in the room, the only one he can see while you trade more stories about your lives, your favorite things, your dreams. You tell him you'd like to write a book one day, not exactly sure what about yet but how you're not sure you'd even have the confidence to actually publish it - he tells you with warmth and tenderness that he'd read anything you wrote, be the first one to buy a copy. He tells you how he's written songs but never played them to anybody before, but he'd play them for you if you wanted to hear them - you do.
Despite the pretty music, the twinkling lights, the cozy atmosphere and yummy food... you can't wait to get back to the hotel room. Your skin is buzzing with anticipation of what comes next, what you both know will happen as soon as you're back behind closed doors. The thought has been sitting there in the back of your mind all day, all week - for crying out loud, it's been there since the day you met him. It's nice to sit and eat and chat and pretend for a little bit like you didn't come on this vacation for a very specific reason, but that reason is becoming glaringly more apparent the longer you sit across from each other, stealing glances and soft touches. You need him. You need him right now.
Your eyes must go glassy, a faraway look in your expression, because a few moments after finishing your food Joel extends his arm to you and squeezes your hand, peers at you with darkening eyes.
"I know, babygirl," he murmurs, calloused fingertips caressing your skin, "Let's go."
--
As soon as the door shuts behind the both of you Joel's arms are immediately around you again, just like they'd been when you first stepped into the room after check-in. This time though, he presses his body firmly to yours, pushes his groin against your ass and reaches up to pull your hair back behind your ear, other hand flat against your stomach.
"I want you so bad," he whispers, and your whole body seems to convulse in his grasp in anticipation, "Been thinkin' about it all day."
"Me too," you whisper back, like it's a secret. "I'm ready, Joel."
He noses your ear, your neck, your shoulder. You feel him pull back the sleeve of your dress and press an open mouthed kiss to the skin there, slow and wet.
"I'm gonna take care of you," he murmurs softly, "I promise."
You lean back into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as he continues to press kisses all over your exposed skin, the rough prickles of his facial hair feeling sinful against your flesh. He grinds himself into you again and you whine.
"You're gonna feel it right here," he reminds you, rubbing your tummy gently and inhaling your perfume, "Right there, babygirl."
You whimper, legs buckling underneath you, "I want it, Joel, Want it now, please." Your thoughts are clouded by the smell of him, the feel of him, and it's only when you feel him start to unzip your dress in the back that you remember what you're wearing underneath.
"Wait," you say quickly, pulling away and turning around to face him, "Wait, just - just gimme one minute," he looks confused and you smile apologetically, "I have a surprise for you first." You reach forward and take his hands in yours, pull him toward the bed and gently nudge him onto the edge, "Just wait there, okay? I'll be right back."
You start backing up to go to the ensuite and can't help but appreciate the way he looks sitting there for a moment, leaning back on his hands while he gazes at you from the bed under his lashes. His legs are so long, belt buckle shining tantalizingly under the overhead light. You watch as he kicks his shoes off, smiling up at you.
"Don't go anywhere," you tell him, still backing up, "Stay right there."
He grins, "Ain't nowhere I'd rather be than right here, baby."
Your skin heats as you turn the doorknob and head into the bathroom, locking it behind you. You try not to think too much about what's about to happen, what you're going to do together the second you open that door again - the thought is so beyond overwhelming that you can already feel goosebumps rising all over your body.
The dress comes off easily and you place it with slightly trembling fingers onto the counter, reaching down to open up the cupboard and grab the garter you'd stowed away. You don't look at yourself in the mirror until it's securely in place, stockings hooked into it symmetrically albeit a little precariously, and when you finally do see yourself - bright eyed and warm, hair a little tousled, anticipation clear as day on your face - you can't help but grin.
You're about to lose your virginity. To Joel.
You take a few steadying breaths in the mirror, closing your eyes and giving yourself a moment to just quietly exist. You press your palms to the counter, inhaling and exhaling slowly, grounding yourself and working up the courage to go back into the room.
And then you hear it - a low buzzing sound, rattling against the solid tile of the bathroom countertop. You open your eyes in slight confusion, looking toward the sound; it's your phone, tucked against the wall, hidden behind the hand towel. Your brow furrows - has it been in here this whole time? You can't remember checking it at dinner, don't think you'd even unlocked it since before Joel woke you up from your nap in the truck.
You reach over and grab it, wondering who could be calling you - and that's when your heart plummets to your stomach.
6 messages. 4 missed calls. All from your mother.
Fuck.
Are you in Dallas yet?
Let me know when you arrive.
What hotel are you staying at?
Text me back now.
Where are you?
Answer the phone.
"Shit," you whisper, "Shit, shit, shit." You scramble to type out a response, erasing typos and re-typing over and over until you wind up with something that you hope makes sense:
sorry!!! i was so tired from the drive and passed out as soon as i got in my room. i'm still half asleep, i'll talk to you more tomorrow.
How the fuck could you forget to text her?! It was the one thing you'd promised her, the one thing you weren't lying about before you left, and it had still managed to completely slip your mind. You stare at the sent message, watching a whole minute go by until her typing bubble appears, slow and steady. Finally, her reply comes in:
I told your father about Mr. Miller. We'll discuss when you get home.
Well, that's definitely not the response you'd been expecting.
Your face scrunches in confusion as you read the message again; you're not sure how it correlates at all to your lack of communication, the breaking of your promise. You suppose she'd been so worried she'd had no choice but to tell your father the "real" reason you're in Dallas - the music festival, and by proxy the lessons with Joel that "inspired" the trip in the first place. That would make sense. It's not like she has any way of knowing that you're actually here with Joel, right? No, that's illogical. You've been careful.
Okay, you know what? Good. This is good. You've wanted him to know all along. One less secret to keep, right? It's a good thing.
So why does your heart suddenly feel like it's on the floor?
You read the message again, and then again.
It's fine. Don't worry about it, it's okay.
You look up from the phone and into the mirror, eyebrows going up when you see yourself. For a moment you'd forgotten where you were, what exactly you're doing in the bathroom of a hotel room in Dallas wearing nothing but lingerie. The stark contrast of the freedom you'd felt a few moments ago and the sudden anxiety you feel now is palpable, eyes going a bit blurry as you assess yourself in the mirror again. You suddenly feel slightly disconnected from the image itself, like the person you're looking at isn't you - it can't be you, can it? Is that you?
Water, you need water. You cup your hand in the sink and turn on the tap, collecting a small pool of liquid there before bringing it to your lips. The action reminds you that you'll need to take your birth control later, a thought that sends another pang of anxiety to your already discombobulated body. Why do you need to take birth control again? Oh yeah, because you're about five minutes away from losing your virginity. To Joel. Your ears begin to ring.
Your hands shake above the sink, water dripping downwards off your hands into the much too fancy basin below. What are you doing here? Who do you think you are? You really think this is okay? You really think everything you're doing, everything you've been doing, isn't going to have major consequences? Your vision blurs.
You shut off the water and shove your trembling hands into a dry towel, tears beginning to stream down your cheeks. You avoid looking at yourself in the mirror, avoid acknowledging the way you look all together. What the fuck is wrong with you? Who are you? What have you become? Lying to your parents, resisting everything they ever taught you, doing filthy things behind their back?
The sins you've acted upon are against God, you can practically hear your father spitting at you, the behavior you've exhibited will surely leave you with nothing but a one way ticket to Hell.
Your heart pounds in your chest, much faster than normal, much faster than you think it's ever beat. So fast that you briefly think you might be having a heart attack. You clutch at your chest and fall to the floor, attempting to catch your breath and utterly failing to do so, eyes wide and panicked as you practically fight for your life on the marble tile. What the fuck is happening? Not even five minutes ago you'd been totally fine, completely ready and willing and excited, and now you want nothing more than for the floor to open up and swallow you whole.
"J-Joel?" you gasp out, voice echoing against the walls; it's like you're calling out for emergency assistance, a last-ditch attempt at survival. He doesn't answer - you hadn't been loud enough. You take another gasping breath and call out a bit louder, "Joel?"
You hear his voice almost immediately on the other side of the door, "I'm here, baby. You okay?"
You shut your eyes tight, head leaning back against the wall as you pull your legs up to hug against your chest. How the fuck do you even answer a question like that? No, I'm not okay. I'm completely the opposite of okay.
"I c-can't breathe," you practically spit the words out, teeth beginning to chatter.
"Hey, hey, what's goin' on? Can I come in?"
You don't answer, can't answer. The knob jiggles and you silently curse yourself for locking it, "What is it, baby? What's wrong? Talk to me." You can hear the worry in his voice.
"I don't kn-know" you hiccup, hands coming up to cover your face, "I just... I just g-got really sc-scared all of a sudden."
"Oh sweetheart, that's okay." His voice is calm, soothing, reassuring. "That's alright, honey. It's okay to be scared, that's normal. That's okay."
"N-no it's not," you gasp out, hands still shaking, "I'm- I'm going to hell."
There's a beat of silence, then -
"I think you're havin' a panic attack, babygirl," you hate how muffled his voice is through the door, like he's ridiculously far away, "That's okay, I have those too. I have those all the time."
Your eyebrows go up in surprise, "Y-you do?"
"I do. And I can help you if you let me in, alright? We can get through it together, I promise."
"Y-you won't be m-mad at me?"
"Babygirl," he breathes, the tone of his voice doused in shock, "I'd never be mad at you for somethin' like that. Not now, not ever." Another knob jiggle, "Open up, sweetheart, lemme hold you."
The thought of being in his arms is the only thing that gets you off the floor, legs shaking like a baby deer as you lean against the wall for support and sidestep over to the bathroom door. With relentlessly shaky fingers you manage to unlock it, tugging it open just a little bit. He does the rest.
You barely get a look at his expression - full of concern and tenderness - before you're suddenly being scooped up into his big, warm arms. He lifts you off the floor like you weigh nothing while you bury your face in his shoulder, close your eyes and try your best to focus on the sound of his breathing, the smell of him, the way he feels. Your legs instinctively wrap around him almost like a koala as he carries you over to the couch, sits down while you cling to him in the safety of his lap.
He doesn't mention the fact that you're practically naked, doesn't ask about the lingerie or point out the little wet spot at the front of your panties where only a few minutes ago you'd started getting wet with anticipation. Instead he simply does exactly what he'd said - he holds you. He pulls you in close and rubs your back and squeezes you tightly while you try to calm your breathing, try to disconnect yourself from the panicked feelings.
"You're okay, angel" he whispers to you softly, and you just cling to him tighter, "You're safe, you're alright. Nothin' bad is gonna happen to you, honey."
Except going to hell, you want to say, but you find that your fear is already starting to ebb, being replaced with the feeling of Joel's wide palm against your back and his soothing words in your ear.
"We have all the time in the world to take this step," he murmurs softly, "I don't want you to feel any pressure, don't want you to think you have to do anything you don't wanna do."
You remember his words from the other day: Need you to know that you don't owe me anythin', not ever. But the frustrating thing is that this isn't something you feel you owe him, it's something you want to do - or at least had wanted to do, before you picked up the stupid fucking phone.
"I'm r-ruining everything," you manage to gasp out, tears still flowing relentlessly down your face, "I'm s-sorry."
"You're not ruinin' anything," he breathes, and you can hear the sincerity in the tone of his voice, "That is not the only reason we came here, sweet girl. We came here to be together, get away from everythin'." You feel him press a gentle kiss to your temple, "Now, tell me what's goin' on. What's got you so scared, baby? Talk to me."
You sniff, face still buried in the warm fabric of his shirt as you tell him about the messages, the response from your mom about telling your father, the way your heart had sunk when you fully registered what it would mean for them to really know what's going on. You realize you're getting tears and snot all over him but he doesn't seem to pay it any mind, continuing to rub your back soothingly.
"It's fine that he knows, or thinks he knows - whatever," you sniffle, "But the whole thing is just- it's just so fucked. If they knew what I was d-doing here, if they knew what I was wearing-"
"Shhh," he trails his fingers through your hair as you babble and you bury your face into his shoulder again, feeling beyond embarrassed. This is not how you'd seen this night going at all. "Shh, sweetheart, it's okay. Hey, look at me. Look at me, sweet girl."
Hesitantly, you pull your face from his shirt to peer at him from under watery lashes, his handsome face blurry through your tears. He reaches down and takes both your hands in his, squeezes them carefully.
"Follow my breathing, okay?" he tells you softly, voice barely a whisper. You watch as he closes his eyes and slowly inhales through his nose. You count about five seconds before he exhales through his mouth again, opening his eyes, "In and out, real slow like this."
It takes a few minutes to get into a good rhythm, to feel the breathing exercise really start to work, but eventually you start feeling calmer again, more yourself. As you breathe Joel continues to hold your hands in his, keeping you present, grounded. You open your eyes a few times, almost like you're making sure he's still there despite knowing you're in his lap, and each time you see his beautiful face - eyes closed over with his lashes fanning his cheeks, plump lips under greying scruff, the lines and wrinkles you want to kiss every single one of - you feel a wave of reassurance wash over you, a reminder that you're safe, you're not alone.
Once your heart has stopped beating a mile a minute, you wrap your arms around him again and nudge your head lazily into the crook of his shoulder, eyes closed as you hum softly in appreciation. He starts rubbing your back again, soft and slow.
"I don't believe in it anymore," you finally whisper quietly, "I don't. I haven't for a long time. But it's hard to remember that sometimes. It can just... it creeps up on me."
"I know," he murmurs, "I dealt with that for a while too, babygirl. It's a lot to reconcile, a lot to put in the past, I get it."
"I get scared when I think about them finding out about us," you admit softly, "Not because it'll change what we have, but because it'll change what I have with them." You bite your lip "You... you know that better than anybody."
He suddenly grimaces at your words, eyes going up to the ceiling for a few seconds before falling back to you, "I knew it," he grumbles, and your brows furrow in confusion, "I knew I shouldn't've talked about that shit with my parents today."
You shake your head immediately, "No, no, Joel, it has nothing to do with that. I wanted to know that stuff, I wanna know you."
"But it -"
"This is my own thing," you tell him softly, gaze meeting his, "This isn't because of you. You've been..." you smile through your tears, "You've been so amazing, Joel. You've helped me so much."
He brushes his nose against yours again, and with a soft sigh he murmurs, "You've helped me too, sweetheart. More than you realize."
"What d'you mean?"
You watch as he reaches beneath him to pull something out from his back pocket, adjusting you a little in his lap as he does so. He pulls out his wallet, small and brown, weathered around the edges - he's definitely had it for a while. Puzzled, your eyes fall to the tattered inside as he opens it, and you immediately spot something sitting in the compartment reserved for cash - something that catches the light, sparkles under your gaze.
"Is that my crucifix?" you ask quietly.
He nods, slipping his finger inside and pulling out the chain, the cross hanging from his fingertip. "This," he tells you, "has gotten me through two panic attacks of my own this week."
What?
He can tell you're at a bit of a loss for words, confused and surprised. With a small smile he wraps his hand around the crucifix, presses the cross into his palm, then brings it to his lips and presses a small kiss to the metal. The action doesn't make much sense to you, what with Joel being an Atheist and having never shown much interest at all in religion other than how it made you feel.
"But you don't believe in that stuff," you state, suddenly unsure.
He nods, letting his hand fall back down into his lap to touch yours, "I don't," he murmurs, "It's... it's a symbol more than anything." He takes your hand, the cross fitting directly into the center of your palm, "When I hold this, it reminds me of the beautiful girl who trusted me with it, the one sittin' so pretty and perfect in my lap right now."
You can't help but feel a bit embarrassed at his words, painfully aware of the tears drying on your puffy cheeks - you probably look a mess, but he doesn't seem to care.
"Makes me feel less alone," he tells you softly, and you swear you hear his voice hitch on the last word, "Keeps me safe."
You peer at him for a moment, processing his words. You don't really know what to say, beyond touched by the sentiment but still unsure how an object that caused you such pain and frustration could be a light in the darkness for him. How could it have a different meaning than the one it was intended for?
It's like he can sense your hesitance, your questions. He shifts you a bit in his lap, pulling you so close that his nose brushes gently against yours. "You should only believe in somethin' if it feels right," he whispers, "Only if it makes you feel like the luckiest person alive just to experience it, to be in its presence. And angel," he sighs softly, tilting forward so his forehead lightly nudges against yours, "if that ain't me about you."
"Joel," you whisper, fresh tears shining in your eyes. There's nothing else you can really say, nothing that feels right, other than the one thing you've been wanting to say since you arrived, something on the tip of your tongue begging to slip past your lips - but you don't. For now, you just think it, think it with all the warmth and adoration you feel blooming in your chest as you peer at him.
I love you.
You kiss him then, slow. His lips are soft and patient against yours, slightly hesitant, like he's holding himself back - and you suppose he is, considering the situation. He doesn't want to push, doesn't want to assume that what was meant to happen when you got back to the hotel room is still going to happen.
But you already know that it is.
You find that you can now notice the fact that your skin is bare, that he's touching you without anything being in the way, one hand cupped against the soft flesh of your hip while the other still squeezes your hand. It dawns on you that you're wearing the lingerie, the special surprise essentially ruined by your outburst. You frown against his lips.
"What is it?" he murmurs, pulling back to peer at your face, assess your expression.
"I...I bought this for you," you tell him softly, and you watch as his gaze falls to your scantily covered form, "Sorry I ruined the surprise."
His adam's apple bobs in his throat as his eyes trail up and down your body in slow, repetitive movements, like he's only just now fully noticed what you're wearing, taking in absolutely every inch of you - every little embroidered flower, every bare patch of skin. He releases your hand to carefully place both of his palms down on your thighs, the naked part between your panties and the stockings. You watch as he fingers the garter straps, eyes dark.
"Dressed up all pretty for me, huh?" he breathes, thumbs stroking your inner thighs as he brings his gaze back up to meet yours.
"I wanted it to be special," you whisper, "I wanted to wear it when you..." You trail off, mouth going a bit dry all of a sudden.
"Do you still want that, babygirl?" he asks you softly, "Do you still want me to?"
You don't even need to think about it, mull it over in your head or take another breath. You've never been more sure of anything in your life.
"Yes," you whisper, an edge of desperation in your voice, "Please." You kiss him again and he sighs deeply against your mouth, grip tightening on your thighs.
"Say it," he murmurs, teeth nipping lightly at your bottom lip, "Tell me what you want me to do, baby."
You shiver, "Want you to fuck me, Joel," your voice quakes with anticipation, hands balling in his shirt, "Please fuck me."
He doesn't need telling twice; at your words one of his big hands comes up cradle your back again, fingers digging into the soft skin there while his other slips from your thigh and curves around your ass, squeezes. He picks you up again, slips the crucifix into his pocket and stands there without moving as he peers at your face and holds you firmly against his body.
"Please," you whisper again, eyes locked with his as you whimper and buck your hips against him, feel the shape of his half-hard cock rub gently against where you're aching. He looks down without speaking, watches as you pathetically grind your hips, legs tightening around his waist.
"The sweetest girl," he says softly, leaning his face forward to kiss the corner of your mouth, "Already beggin' for my cock, huh?"
You mewl and grind your crotch against him again, already feeling the wetness returning to your panties in slow pulses. He just smiles and finally walks with you to the bed, tilts you downward and lays you out like you're a meal he's about to indulge in, swallow whole. And god, you want him to. Need him to. He pulls back to stand over you, hands going into his pockets as he peers down at you with lust in his eyes.
"Lemme just look at you, babygirl," he says quietly, eyes trailing to your breasts, your bare stomach, your exposed mound and soft thighs. He nudges you over a little bit and then sits on the side of the bed, hand reaching down to stroke one of your arms, slow and gentle, "You look so beautiful."
You lie there, staring up at his face with hooded eyes as you try not to squirm under his gaze. His hand moves from your arm to your shoulder, your shoulder to your collarbone, your collarbone to the space between your breasts. Just like you'd imagined when you'd bought it at the store, he deftly fingers the buttons there a few times, tracing them up and down.
"Pretty," he murmurs, and without warning he slowly slips his hand inside your bra, fingertips brushing your nipple. You whimper again, another surge of arousal dripping into your underwear.
"My sensitive girl," he whispers, brushing it again and smiling when your hips buck, "Are you wet, baby?"
You nod quickly, expression hazy, "Yes."
"How wet?"
Your thighs rub together almost unconsciously, another pathetic sound slipping past your lips, "Really wet, Joel."
He chuckles softly at your impatience, releases your breast and leans down to press a slow and wet kiss to your neck. You moan softly, eyes fluttering closed as his lips trail gently up and down the expanse of your neck, your chest. You feel his hands curve up underneath your back, busying themselves with the latches of your lingerie.
"As much as I could look at you wearin' this for hours," he whispers, "I think theres somethin' under there that deserves my attention." He slips the bra off easily, tugs the straps down your arms and exposes your bare breasts to him, nipples peaked and hard. He immediately captures one in his mouth and starts to suckle gently, hand traveling downward to rest teasingly on your inner thigh.
Fuck, it feels so good. Your eyes roll behind your lids, mouth popping open as you sigh in contentment and just let him play with you. He sucks and licks, nips lightly every so often, travels between both breasts like they were made specifically for him to have in his mouth. Your pussy pulses somewhere below, feeling beyond ignored, and you rub your thighs together again to try to ease some of the pressure. He notices and his hand inches upward to cup you through the material, eliciting a gasp from you.
He pulls off your nipple and you open your eyes to see him peering up at you, eyes almost black, a smirk on his face, "Need your pussy touched again, don't you baby?" You nod, lips turning downwards into a pout, "Okay, sweet girl. I won't tease you too much."
You're very much aware of the fact that Joel is still fully clothed, a fact that you have to admit turns you on a lot more than it probably should. You watch as he crawls on top of you carefully, hooks his legs around you and slowly eases downward, eyes staying locked with yours as he starts kissing his way down your stomach. Your heart rate quickens again, but this time you welcome it.
His fingers play with the straps of your garter as he presses soft kisses to the tops of your thighs, the dips of your waist. You shiver when he presses gentle kisses to your mound, fingers slipping inside the band of your lingerie and carefully tugging it down to expose your pussy to him, wet and aching. He pulls back to look at it, expression one of pure lust as he thumbs one of your lips and pushes it open.
"There she is," he murmurs, "The sweetest little pussy."
"Joel," you moan, closing your eyes and focusing entirely on the way he thumbs your outer lip, caresses it softly like it's something precious and fragile. He dips his thumb further inside and brushes against your folds, sending another thick and syrupy drop of release onto his fingers.
"Look at her pulse, baby," he says, voice husky and dark, "Droolin' for me."
You open your eyes again, watch him lean down and lick a stripe through your dripping folds, collecting the juices on his tongue. You whimper when he swallows and leans in to press a whiskery kiss to your clit, already puffy and twitching.
"She's cryin' for my cock, honey," he breathes, "Been waitin' so long, been so patient."
"Please," you whisper, and his gaze meets yours again, "Please put it in." The words are filthy and full of desperation, your brow furrowing in pleasure as his thumb slowly begins to circle your clit, "I need it."
"I know, sweet girl," he whispers, "But you gotta wait just a little bit longer, gotta let me taste this perfect little cunt first," he presses kisses along your folds, kitten licks past them a bit to slip the tip of his tongue just barely inside your hole. You whine, hand coming down to touch his hair while the other grabs one of your breasts and begins to toy with your nipple, as if on instinct.
He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder, hands coming up to grip your waist and hold you still as he starts to eat you out. Just like the first time, it's beyond overwhelming, your eyes shutting tight and your teeth biting down hard on your bottom lip as his mouth does sinful things to the most intimate part of you. He plunges his tongue inside and buries the curve of his nose in your clit, rubbing it up and down, back and forth, while you whine and whimper above him. Your fingers tangle in his hair and holds his face firm between your legs while he tastes and devours.
"Joel," you keep whimpering, unable to stop from saying his name every chance you get, a reminder to yourself that you're really here with him right now, that he's the one making you feel this way. He barely pulls up for breath, scruff glistening with your release as he pleasures you relentlessly, arm coming up to splay across your belly and push you down into the mattress, holding you firm.
He makes you come easily, but that's no surprise. Just like in the truck earlier, you cry out and toss your head back, body shaking through your orgasm as he sucks on your clit and slips one of his fingers easily inside of you, curves it and makes your body rise up off the bed in pleasure as you shiver and squirm.
"Good girl," he tells you softly when he releases your clit from his mouth, looks up at you with dark lips and messy hair, "That's my good girl."
Only for you Joel, you want to whisper, but you're too blissed out to speak, Only wanna be a good girl for you.
You feel him press soothing kisses around your pussy, finger still slowly pumping in and out as you calm your breathing. He pulls it out and brings it to his lips, sucks it with a deep groan, "God, you taste so good," he murmurs, resting his head for a moment on your thigh and inhaling deeply, "So fuckin' sweet, babygirl."
You remember the first time he'd tasted you, remember how you'd come so hard you'd seen stars, remember how he'd come in his pants. The thought makes you sit up on your hands, look down at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Did you come?" you ask, slightly worried for a moment.
He laughs, pulls his head up and begins to crawl back to you with a smile on his face, "No, not this time. That was a moment of weakness." He cups your face and and looks down at you with a soft expression, "You wanna taste yourself?"
Without any hesitation, you nod. Joel leans down and presses his lips to yours, eases his tongue inside and lets you indulge in your own release, your own special flavor. You've never really tasted anything like it before, unsure how exactly to describe it - you're not sure you'd really call it sweet, but it's not bad by any means, just... different.
"Good?" he asks.
You shrug, "It's... interesting."
He chuckles, pulling his face back, "How're you feelin'? You wanna stop?" You look up at him like he's crazy and he laughs again, putting his hands up, "Okay, okay, just askin'."
"I want-" you cut yourself off, feeling blood rush to your cheeks, and he peers down at you softly.
"What d'you want, babygirl?" he murmurs, "I'll give it to you."
You reach up to tug at the collar of his shirt, finger the buttons there, "I want this off," you breathe, "Want all of it off."
He nods slowly, eyes hooded as his eyes fall to your wet lips, "Okay, what else?"
"Want you to fuck me," you whisper again, as if he doesn't already know. Your hand reaches downward to carefully cup the long shape of him through his pants with trembling fingers, "Want it inside."
He reaches down, covers your hand with his and squeezes softly, "You want what inside, baby? Words."
"Your cock," you whisper, edged with a whine, "Want your cock inside me, Joel. Please. No more teasing."
He smiles softly, "Okay, baby. No more teasin'."
Watching him undress sends tingles all throughout your body, lips parting as he undoes the buttons of his shirt and tosses it to the floor, reaches for his belt buckle and slowly starts to unfurl it. He keeps his eyes on your face, watches your expression as you bite your lip and assess the way his cock juts out underneath his pants, begging to be taken out and touched, played with. The thought makes you sit up on the bed, lean toward the edge and dig a few of your fingers into his waistband, pulling him closer.
He watches as you slowly move forward to mouth his cock through his pants, lips parting and stretching around the big shape. You sigh in contentment at the feeling of it pulsing through the material against your tongue, drag your mouth up and down a few times as a whimper gurgles in your throat.
"Thought you said no more teasin'," he murmurs, and you feel his hand come to rest at the back of your head, helping you move. You moan softly around his length and you can practically hear the smile in his voice when he says, "Just need it so bad, don't you?"
You do. You can't count the number of days you've thought about it now, thought about it against your face, your thighs, your pussy. You want it everywhere - you want him everywhere. You've waited so long and you're tired of being patient, of waiting for the right time, the right moment. It's here, it's now, and you're ready.
"Please," you breathe again, pulling your mouth off his clothed cock and looking up at him with wide, almost tear-filled eyes, "Please fuck me, Mr. Miller."
His eyes go dark and the smile fades from his lips, hands coming down to unzip and unbutton quickly as you lay back on the bed and open your legs. It takes no time at all for him to be completely naked, pants and underwear thrown haphazardly off to the side while he crawls back on top of you and starts kissing your neck again, skin rough and warm. Your hands come up to grip his bare back, eyes closing as you let him silently worship you, kiss every inch of skin he can reach.
You can feel the heavy length of him on your thigh, settled there as it pulses and leaks. It's so big, so thick, and you can't help but reach down and engulf it in your small fist, fingers still unable to go all the way around. He groans into your skin, pulls back to look at you again.
"D'you want me to use a condom, babygirl?" he asks, even though he knows the answer - he wants to hear you say it, which you appreciate.
"No," you whisper, "Please don't."
He groans again at your words, reaches his hand down and easily slips two of his fingers inside of you without any resistance. You're so ready, have never felt more ready for anything in your entire life. You know you should be reveling in the moment, taking time to enjoy and appreciate - but at the same time you just want him inside of you already, want to be connected to him in the rawest of ways, complete. You can't wait anymore, you can't. He starts to add his third finger and you whine, wishing it was something else.
"Gotta open you up a little more, sweetheart," he tells you quietly, filling you with all three fingers and slowly starting to pump them in and out, "Want this to feel good for you, don't wanna hurt you."
"I want your cock, Joel," you mewl, tears welling in your eyes.
"Shhh," he kisses you gently, fucks you slow, "I know, baby, I know. Just a minute now, sweetheart. Be patient for me."
"Don't wanna be patient," you're starting to sound like a bit of a brat but you really don't care, the desperate and touch-starved part of you just aching to be filled up, held close, fucked deep. "Wanna feel you in my stomach, please."
"Jesus Christ," he mutters, almost a groan as he pulls his fingers from you and drags them against his cock, taking it from you carefully and then pumping himself twice with your release, "Okay, babygirl, I hear you, I got you."
Joel eases himself downwards carefully, hovering over you like he had last weekend. He kisses you again, soft and safe, a quiet reminder that what's about to happen means more than what it seems like on paper, means more than either of you could even articulate. He peers into your eyes tenderly, reaches up to push some stray hairs out of your face.
"I'm gonna go real slow," he tells you, "You tell me the second somethin' doesn't feel right, okay? Promise me."
"I promise," you whisper, hands splaying across his back and pulling him down further so your breasts are pushing softly against the hair on his chest, impossibly close. You just wanna feel him, feel all of him.
When he says slow - he means slow.
You'd felt the tip of him last weekend, were already anticipating the burn and stretch, but this time there's not the same desperation, the same time limit or rush. Now you have all the time in the world, the clarity to take it as slowly as you need to in order to really feel everything, make it count. You feel the shape of his wide head carefully nudge the tiniest bit into your throbbing heat, and your eyes immediately go wide.
"You're okay," he reminds you softly, just like he had last time, "You're alright, angel."
Your nails dig into his back and you nod, peering up at him with a look that you hope says, I know, and I trust you, because you do. He kisses you gently and you feel his hand at your thigh, pushing you open a little wider for easier access. The garter strap strains against your legs but neither of you make any move to remove it.
He pushes inside a little further, his whole tip crowding the space at your entrance once again. You make an odd sound, something that comes from the back of your throat, and he freezes.
"Okay?" he asks, and you frantically nod. "That's the tip of me, baby. You got it, you're doin' so good."
"More," you whisper, voice breaking, "More, please."
He reaches his hand back up and locks it into place on the headboard above you, holds himself up as his knees dig into the plush cotton of the duvet. With his other hand he slowly eases more of his cock inside, just a little bit.
"Fuck," you hiss, and you can feel it now - the burn, the stretch. It's not painful by any means, but it's not comfortable either. You make a face and Joel stills, brow furrowing.
"Hurts?" he asks softly.
"N-not really," you breathe, "It's just - it's really thick."
He kisses you again, noses the side of your face and inhales deeply, "You tell me when to move," he murmurs, "You're in control from this point forward, babygirl. What you say goes."
You take a few deep breaths, eyes closed as you hold Joel to you and revel in the way he peppers tiny little kisses all over your face, your nose, your eyelids. Now it's his turn to be patient, and he's certainly much better at it than you are.
"Okay," you breathe after a moment, "Okay, you can move."
He inches in another little bit and your hips stutter, hands trembling against his back. You don't say anything, just grip him tighter and bite down on your lip - more stretch, more burn. But there's something about it, something about the odd sensation of being spread open, that has your pussy suddenly throbbing - and you whine.
"Tell me to pull out and I will," he murmurs in your ear, "We can spend some more time-"
"No," you whimper, shaking your head, "No, Joel. It feels good." You grip tighter to him and tangle your ankles with his, wanting to be even closer than you already are, "Keep going, please."
It goes like that for a while - a continuous push, inch by inch, a whine or whimper, a check-in from Joel, reassurance that you're alright, then the cycle starts again. You quickly grow accustomed to his girth, the stretch getting significantly less and less the longer he stays pressed inside of you. You're painfully aware that this probably isn't the sexiest experience for him, that he'd probably much prefer being able to go deep and stay deep and pound you senseless - and as much as that thought also appeals to you, you know there's no way your body could handle it on the first go.
"M'sorry," you mumble to him quietly during another moment of adjustment, both of you laying still while a little more than half his cock sits patiently inside of you.
"For what?" his eyes scrunch, confusion clear on his face.
"F-for taking forever to get used to it," you admit apologetically, eyes going downcast, "Especially after I begged so many times."
He shakes his head, eyes narrowing, "Do not apologize for somethin' like that, sweetheart. This is about you, not me."
"But I'm-" you take a breath, forcing yourself to be honest, to not keep your worries inside no matter what, especially in such an intimate moment like this, "I'm scared you're not enjoying yourself."
His eyes widen, "Not enjoyin' myself?" He almost laughs, light and soft, "Sweetheart, do you have any idea how fuckin' good you feel?" You shake your head and he leans down to kiss you, moans softly against your lips, "Your pussy's so tight around me, sweet girl" he whispers, "She's pulsin' around my cock, it feels fuckin' incredible."
Your thighs tighten a bit against his waist, center throbbing once again at his words. He groans, and it finally sets in that every throb you feel, every pulsation, every twitch, he can feel it too. Because he's inside of you.
"You're inside me," you whisper, and it sounds like such a dumb revelation but you don't care, lip trembling a little bit as your fingers stroke gently against his back.
"I'm inside you," he echoes, voice soft and reassuring, "M'not goin' anywhere, baby. Gonna take it as slow as you need me to."
He's so gentle, so tender, it makes you want to cry. How did you get so lucky to be having your first time with someone like this? Someone who genuinely wants you to feel good, feel taken care of? Someone who feels beyond amazing? His cock is so big, so perfect; he feeds it to you over the next few minutes, makes you whine and cry out in the dim light of the hotel room, legs trembling and hands coming up to cover your eyes as he finally bottoms out, finally eases himself completely inside of you - and stills.
Full. You're so full. It's the only word that seems to cross your mind, any and all other vocabulary going completely out the window the longer you lay there with his cock buried deep inside. He carefully pulls your hands back from your face and kisses you again and again, murmuring praise.
"You're doin' so good, angel," he whispers, "Takin' it so well, such a good girl."
It's not that filthy of a thing to say, but his words do something to you then that you can't really explain. Odd sounds escape your throat, slip past your lips pathetically as you squirm a bit beneath him. Your eyes shut tight, heart beating fast, not a thought in your brain other than the fact that there's a huge appendage lodged so deep inside of you that you can't even think, can't speak.
"I know," he's whispering, carding his fingers through your hair, "I know, baby. That cock is so big, I know, I know," he kisses your temple, holds you close, "So big inside that little pussy."
"Joel," is all you manage to whimper out, toes curling in pleasure, "Joel."
"I know," he murmurs again, and you swear he pushes his hips forward just a little bit more, the heavy shape of his balls pressing firmly against your ass, "I'm in your tummy, baby, just like you wanted."
At his words your shaky hand travels downward to feel your stomach, press your palm against the skin there, and your eyes snap open when you realize you can feel him there - near the bottom of your tummy, feel the long and thick shape of him bulging out from beneath.
"Fuck," you breathe, and his eyes meet yours, dark and hungry, "Fuck, I f-feel it."
His hand comes down and covers yours, helps you move the garter belt out of the way to shape your fingers around the long shape of him. You can feel the fat head pulsing deep within you, pushing against something you didn't even know was there, every throb sending constant gushes of release around his cock. You must be a mess down there, slick dripping down your thighs as you whine again and reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair.
"Ohmygod," the words are almost slurred, garbled, and you're realizing very quickly that talking with a cock inside of you is very difficult. Your thighs squeeze together again and Joel groans.
"God, you feel so fuckin' incredible," his expression is wrecked, plump lips parted as he inhales and exhales, "You're chokin' my cock, honey."
You can't wrap your mind around the fact that this isn't it, that simply having his cock buried deep inside you isn't the actual sex itself. Because how can just this feel so good? How can you feel so close, so full, so wonderful, all from just this?
Joel leans down and buries his face in the pillow, nudges his nose to your ear and whispers, "D'you want me to move, babygirl?" to which you immediately respond, "Yes."
At your okay he slowly eases himself out of you, the sensation unlike anything you've ever felt before as inch by inch he leaves your body until just the head sits heavy and waiting at your entrance. He looks down at you, thumbs your cheek, and murmurs, "Who's my good girl?"
You shiver, moan softly, eyes closing again, "I am," you whisper.
Just as slow, he pushes himself back inside, and you cry out and bury your face into his neck, legs shaking.
"Who is?" he asks you again, burying himself to the hilt and stroking up and down your naked body gently with one hand, "Who's my good girl? Tell me again, angel."
"I am," you repeat, a bit louder this time and drenched in pleasure as he slowly pulls out again, leaving you almost empty. "Joel," you whisper, and he pulls his face back to look at you, nipping at your bottom lip and pouting at your already fucked-out expression, "Joel, it feels so good."
"I know, baby," he murmurs, then eases himself back in, brings your hands down to your stomach again to feel the way his cock protrudes lewdly against the skin, "You're takin' it so well."
"I-I've-" you whimper, tears overflowing, "I've n-never-"
I've never felt like this before, you want to say. I've never felt so close to another human in my life. I've never wanted to live in a moment more than I want to live in this one.
Instead, he just brings a finger to your lips, eases himself out again and murmurs, "I know," like it's a mantra, "I know."
You feel him thumb your clit and you can't believe that anything could feel this good, that anything could even compare to the way it feels to have Joel everywhere like this, so deep inside and above and all around, his scent lingering in every move he makes, his hair pressing firm to the softest parts of your body. He's so warm, so safe, and more than anything all you can think about is that thought from before, the one you know now to be absolute - I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.
He keeps the pace slow, doesn't let go of you or pull away even once. You already know you're not gonna last, not with his thumb rubbing you like that and his cock so unrelenting and huge inside of you, filling you up in a way you never thought possible. You're pretty sure that you've only got one more orgasm left in you tonight but you don't feel worried or stressed out by that fact - you have a whole weekend for more of this, to explore and experience and enjoy.
"I'm gonna come, Joel," you breathe, and you can feel tears stinging your eyes as you say the words, "I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come."
"Okay, baby, that's it," he encourages you softly, thumb unrelenting against your clit, "Lemme feel you come, angel. Let it out for me. Give it to me, sweetheart." And you do.
Coming around his cock feels fucking incredible. Your pussy tightens and throbs, releases more slick than you could even imagine, and you feel yourself start to cry, tears flowing down your face as a sob wracks from your throat as you pull him down on top of you. He fucks you through it, groaning in your ear at the way you continue to choke his cock, tight and firm.
"Fuck," he groans, "Fuck, angel, I don't think I can last."
"Then don't," you cry into his ear, eyes shut tight as your body convulses, "Don't wait, Joel. Want you to come inside me, want it so bad."
He makes an unhinged noise, his thrusts becoming a little faster, a little more erratic. Without warning you kick your legs up to wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer and letting out another loud moan when you both hear the sound of his balls slapping against your ass. He's so deep. So, so, so deep. Just like he said he'd be.
"Fuck," he mumbles in your ear, "Fuck, I'm comin', honey, I'm comin'." At his words you feel the massive length of him pulse deep inside, your walls constricting around the intrusive shape as he starts to come. Your eyes go wide, mouth opening in a silent gasp of pleasure as you feel the warm spurts of his come begin to coat your walls, filling you up.
"Joel," you breathe, and you're pretty sure your nails have broken the skin of his back but he doesn't seem to care - if anything it makes him groan even louder, makes him pull back to look at you and make direct eye contact as he empties himself. You stare at each other, eyes wide, lips parted, and he leans forward to press his forehead to yours as his jaw clenches.
The moment he's finished coming he falls on top of you with his entire body weight, something you welcome instantly. Your hands roam up and down his back, feel the crescent moon shapes lining his skin as you close your eyes and let the reality of what's just happened wash over you, settle into your very being. It's only when you shift a little underneath him that Joel finally pulls himself up to look at you. He's so beautiful, hair a mess, lips red and raw, cheeks flushed, and tears shining in his soft brown eyes. He nuzzles his nose against yours and breathes a long sigh, one of satisfaction and contentment.
"Stay inside me," you whisper. You don't know why it's the first thing you say, but somehow it feels like the most important. Because the idea of him separating from you now after what you've just shared, the idea of not being within his embrace or feeling as connected as you feel right now - it sounds like the worst thing in the world.
"Okay, angel," he murmurs, eyes sleepy, "M'not goin' anywhere."
You close your eyes, breathe him in.
I love you.
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somno w/ nagi 😞😞💔 he’s so spent and exhausted after the longest day of practice, but his body betrays itself as soon as you press back against his tall frame. he ruts into you, breathy in your ear and hard in his boxers, and it doesn’t take him long at all, not when you feel so warm and inviting and soft. but it’s alright, he can be motivated by the right things after all — and best believe the way you whimper for him so sweetly does it for him. fully awake now, he will make sure to take proper care of you, just like you always do to him, even when half asleep still :(
*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— late night lovin' + seishiro nagi.
૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — nagi loves the way you look in his bed late night after practice. but he loves the way you crave him in your sleep even more.
⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, heavy smut, established relationship, somnophilia, dry humping, cockwarming, creampies, unprotected!sex, soft dom + pro player!nagi not beta read ! - fem!reader.
⭑ words — 2.5K.
⭑ notes — thank u for indulging my brain rot, truly love him sm !! also first time writng him pls be kind and im sorry this took so long shbs! - m.list✩
seishiro nagi hates when practice runs late.
exhaustion settles into his bones far too quick for his liking, listening to feedback from ego and the others feels like a bore and he can hardly feel bothered to grab something to eat with the team on the way home. he just about manages to shower at the stadium before making it back and by the time he does— you’re there, in his bed like he wants you to be.
seishiro nagi loves to see you sprawled across his sheets after practice.
he’d given you a key to his place after deciding it was too much of a hassle for you to drive over after his training or for him to come pick you up — it was easier if you could make yourself at home. nagi forgoes turning on the lights as he enters the master bedroom, dropping his duffle bag at the entryway after noticing that you’d fallen asleep. probably while you were waiting for him.
you’re so pretty like this, peaceful, curled up amongst seishiro’s expensive cotton linens and duvet. adorable, wearing one of his older team jerseys – the tops of your perfect pudgy thighs just peeking out from under its material.
slipping into bed behind you is easy for seishiro nagi.
the white-haired striker strips off his gear layer by layer and crawls under the blankets to join you, his bare chest snug against your back and an arm slung over your waist lazily.
your response to his closeness is almost instantaneous, pressing yourself back against nagi and finding comfort in his presence behind you despite not being able to see him in the dark. “sei—“ you whimper, soft and needy, the tendrils of sleep still clinging onto you. so cute. nagi thinks you’re so fucking cute. searching for his warmth like this. even while you rest.
you like how he smells, he remembers. that’s why you lean into him like he’s a safety net. why he showers using a body wash with a scent so delicate it could almost be fabric softener and why you wear his clothes whenever you have the chance. the smell of cedarwood and seishiro nagi is comforting to you, especially when he’s away.
not that he minds, not that it necessarily bothers the striker. he likes it, loves to see you bare the very symbol of his passion. the one thing he loves aside from you – soccer.
you visibly relax when he wraps another strong arm around your shoulders and squeezes you close, making you feel small and safe. your pout loses itself in the sleepy babbles that lay on on your lips and crease between your brows fades too.
“sei…?”
“shhh, angel. s’just me,” nagi coos quietly, tucking his face into the back of your neck with his lashes fluttering against it. he just wants to sleep, fall away from the world with you but his body betrays him, annoyingly so. you’re too soft, too warm, to precious for nagi to resist and it’s a little bothersome that he can’t help it.
he’s hard before he even knows it, the heavy outline of his dick pressed against your pert ass– your body pulsing to life back into your boyfriend’s grip to get comfortable once more. he’s exhausted too but maybe it would help to fall asleep like this– if he wore himself down by grinding into you, dragging his hips back and forth, slow and steady so his erection slides through your cheeks from behind.
seishiro’s breathing gets a little heavier, hot and ragged against your bare skin, his grip on you tighter and his cock weighty and wet behind the fabric of his boxers. over the blood pumping through his ears, as full of adrenaline as it would be on the pitch, he hears you whimper out for him – a sound so sweet that he can’t ignore it.
you’ve always had some kind of hold over nagi, one that he can’t ignore. one that pushes him past his limits. the right thing is always able to motivate him, and the way you mewl out for him in your sleep, your body following his lead in a soft, sensual bump and grind is exactly the kind of thing that drives him forward.
you make things a little easier for him, you always do, stretching a leg forward so nagi has better access to the treasure between your thighs. his reward for working so hard today. “ngh…s-sei…” you mumble again, back arching into his chest on its own accord when he pulls his chubby cock out, smearing his arousal along your backside and right over the crotch of your panties.
“keep quiet pretty girl,” the white haired player whispers, as if there’s anyone around to hear you both. maye its that selfishness that’s been instilled in him, the ego, per say but he wants to keep you to himself. “i’ll take care of it from here, ‘kay?”
every ounce of you, every sound you make, every twitch and shift of your body to keep up with his. it’s his to keep. you’re his to keep.
and seishiro nagi loves that.
“uh-huh,” you’re awake now but just barely, parting your thighs to make room for your boyfriend while he grinds into the heat of your core with the same energy you’d expect from a dog in rut. “y’so big sei…” you gasp like you’ve taken a bullet to the heart when nagi’s seedy tip brushes so deliciously against your clothes and swollen clit – his movements precise yet lax, his breath behind you hot, ragged yet soft as it coasts over your skin.
“mm, you can take it…”
“m-more, need more. s-sei—!”
“said to keep quiet, angel.” nagi grunts while his fingers dance up to tap at your lips. “gimme your mouth. c’mere.” you part them like a good girl, dazed as you follow nagi’s needy command and let him slide two digits against your tongue, keeping your mouth pacified and full. it would be enough to put you back to sleep if you wanted.
you’re so good even when you’re barely conscious, sucking on nagi’s fingers and letting him have his way with you. he’s getting annoyed, not with you. never with you. there’s just too many obstacles in his way, too much interfering with reaching his goal and making you feel good.
too many layers of clothes, too many blankes and it’s really starting to piss him off.
“lift your leg, ‘m gonna get these clothes out of the way. what a bother.” seishiro pants wetly into the junction between your neck and shoulder. he works a hand between your bodies, not stopping the lazy roll of his hips from behind, and kicks off the blanket. his sweats are to follow, then your shirt is pulled up enough for his large palm to settle on your tummy, just above the hem of your underwear.
nagi lets out a satisfied hum once your panties are off. you’re so wet for someone so tired but pride bristles in his chest– knowing that only he can get you sticky and soaked like this even when you’re tiptoeing the line between sleeping and being awake.
he wastes no more time, running the length of his creamy cock through the slickness of your puffy folds before easing himself past your fluttering entrance – taking him so well and so easily. he stills for a moment, a shudder shooting down his spine because nagi can never quite get used to having your warmth wrapped around him while your cute little cunt drools down his dick.
seishiro plants wet, open mouthed kisses across your shoulders and neck, hooking his arm under your leg before he starts to move– revelling in your squeals of pleasure that echo around his fingers. “‘mph…angel, so…t-tight,” the words are stuttered, but drawn out in a low and sexy tone that makes you clench down hard. just catching on nagi’s cockhead each time it pulls out of you.”s’not fair. you’re not…fuck, you’re not fair t’me angel.”
even though he’s set the pace, slothully fucking up into your gooey insides, balls tapping lightly at the curve of your ass– you still have an ungodly amount of control over nagi, making his large body curl over yours and reducing him to a sex-crazed mess, a mop of sweaty white hair and muffled moans.
he chases your soaked, salacious pussy impulsively, hips twitching up to meet the back and forth of your own– bearing down on the spongy spot inside of you that makes you go wild.
the world around you both grows hotter and hotter, nagi practically drooling against your back while his fingertips on his freehand sink into your fleshy thighs to leave their mark— tugging you back onto his dick every time he pulls out, only to sink back in. “feels good. so warm. keep me inside, pretty girl,” he tells in a dreamy sigh, you and through the fog of your sleep, squeezing around the thickness at nagi’s base where he stretches you open.
your boyfriend rewards you with the same treatment, giving you more of what you crave and buries himself up to the hilt— deep within your velvet walls, smearing precum along your most sensitive spots. you gargle around his fingers, happy but drowsy and force yourself to circle your ass back onto nagi’s cock so that you lose your minds together.
lust sparks between your sweat drenched bodies in the dead of night, accompanied by the symphony of wet slaps and sticky skin on skin. it’s intoxicating how your cunt squelches with every thrust and languid jut from his slender hips. nagi is lazy and loving, desperate and hungry for the prize of your pleasure.
“sei. w’na cum,” you bleat, needier and more aroused than before when he finally pulls his digits from your drooling mouth. the white haired striker streaks your viscous salvia across your chin and down the front of your body until he hits the pulsing nub between your ruined pussy lips.
his eyelashes flutter right behind your ear, the striker’s low moans echoing into them and sending dopamine in a hot rush across your sleepy brain. arousing it. “so soon? just a little longer…s-shit… ‘m not there yet.”
truth be told, it wouldn’t take much more for nagi to cum— there’s too much going on that overwhelms him. the glisten of his cock as it escapes the snugness of your sloppy sex, the way you cry out for him, the mental image of your face that he can’t see. how your expression is probably twisted into something so delirious with ecstasy.
he could cream your insides right now, fill you up until it’s leaking out of you, staining your thighs and the sweater of his that you wear…but instead he pulls back the hood of your clit— circling the rough pad of his thumb into the sensitive little bud just to draw it out. make the night last longer.
“o-oh fuck! sei!” your voice is broken and husky, making his skin flush and his dick throb within the embrace of your sluice and addictive walls. you’re barely awake and you’ve got the white- haired soccer player fucked out beyond comprehension. “f-faster.”
“nuh-uh, wait f’me angel. please.” if you beg for him any more, especially with that tone, he might burst. give you his load before he’s done toying with you, spreading the filthy mix of your arousals over your clit in the shape of his name— with the hopes of bringing you closer to your high. “wan’ you creamin’ on me first. gotta hold it, pretty girl. you can do that f’me, right? f-fuck…” he rambles into the dark.
there’s a burn to backs of your thighs where nagi’s sweatpants have rubbed you raw while he fucks you raw— his shaft and it’s pretty blue veins coated in a white froth from your tight little hole. but you don’t care, you’re too brainless to even think about caring— babbling your praises, blindly reaching behind you for the dip in your boyfriend’s hips to pull him forward, use it as leverage to fuck you deeper like you want.
so you’re groping at him and he’s groping at you, lost in the twilight zone—fucking languidly against the sheets. the circles on your clit become rougher, tighter just like you do around seishiro who moans loud and proud against your ear, tongue sliding along the skin behind it.
it’s all open mouthed mewls and wondering hands, fat droplets of arousal running down your thighs and precum against your weeping slit. you’re both messes, passionate and tired and hungry for what you can take from one another. nagi’s moans grow higher and higher in octave until they nearly rival your own and the way he so ravenously pounds into you starts to falter.
“sei, ‘m there…t-there!” you warn him through shaky breaths, the coil in your stomach that threatens to unwind setting you on high alert. you feel your impending orgasm burn at your pelvis, tickle your spine and it only spurs nagi on— rolling his hips just right, cantering into you from behind with his balls soaked in your juices.
“yeah, yeah…yeah…i know. ‘m g’na cum for you mhm… angel. d’ya want it? s-say you wan’ it.” whines as if you’ll say no to him but doesn’t give you the choice. his large, lean body anchors you down on his cock as it bullies it’s way through your blistering hot walls to grind against that one special spot that makes you see stars. seishiro doesn’t let up, how can he? when you claw at his ass and his waist and beg him to go deeper.
your orgasm breaks the surface first, waves of your sweet nectar gushing from your slick sex so fast it almost forces nagi out of you. you squeal and he chokes on a staggered breath, every ripple of your cunt dragging him by the ankle towards his own high as he fucks you through your own. nagi’s load pours into your ravaged cunt as if the floodgates had been opened— warm and viscous as it seeps from your puffy folds, painting you in the shade of him.
fatigue sinks it’s fangs into seishiro as he grinds the last of his seed into you, making sure it sticks— shallowly thrusting into you until you both come back down to earth. he loosens hold on you, but only just, the weight of his large frame thrown over you as you catch your breath together.
“w-welcome home sei,” you hum, rolling over to face him, smiling as your boyfriend loses the fight to sleep before reaching up to twirl your fingers through his baby hairs. a gesture that always helps him sleep faster, that you always reward him with at the end of a long day. “missed you.”
“thanks angel, don’ go missin’ me when ‘m right here.” nagi grumbles, clinging onto you, exhausted— if he weren’t wrecking your shit mere moments ago. “now shh, c’mere sleep ‘n with me.” with that, you’re wrapped in his arms, safe and peaceful once again.
and there’s nothing seishiro nagi loves more.
#blue lock x reader#blue lock smut#bllk x reader#bllk smut#nagi x reader#blue lock x you#bllk x you#nagi smut#nagi x you#nagi seishiro x reader#nagi seishiro smut#nagi seishiro x you#seishiro nagi smut#bllk thirst#blue lock thirst#blue lock imagines#✧ ₊˚੭ ��� writing#tteokdoroki#tw: somnophilia
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love fool ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
♫: Seven, Jungkook // Lovefool, The Cardigans // I only want to be with you, Tommy february6
“In which Yeonjun is more than willing to show you the lengths he’ll go for you.”
yeonjun x fem!reader
Genre: established relationship, inspired by “Seven” mv, fluff, angst, smut
Word count: 10.6K
warnings: don’t take this story seriously pls. it’s ridiculous. yj is clingy. and emotional. and a bit pathetic. the mc is avoidant… and a bit of a bitch ! Lack of communication smh, a bit toxic if u squint ur eyes but it’s supposed to be cute idk (seven mv type toxic skdjdj) yj is a frat boy & a himbo (pick a struggle, pls), arguing, mc has acrylic nails, use of the phrase “boyfriend-girlfriend” bc i’m obsessed w it
smut warnings: mean dom!mc, sub!yj, (mentions of dom!yj) service top!yj, unprotected sex, manhandling (m. rec), hairpulling, name calling, (bitch, stupid, slut, etc) pet names (baby, good boy), dry humping, biting, marking, scent kink (?), scratching, dumbification, dacryphilia, forced orgasm (kinda), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, yj rambles. a lot. breast play, handjob, humiliation, creampie, subspace, implied oral (f. rec) (lemme know if i should add anything!)
Notes: fucking hate arguing with men w/ pretty puppy eyes like i will fuck the shit outta y-
Yeonjun hates when you’re mad at him. It makes him feel guilty and leaves him with a gross feeling in his stomach, pouty and annoying as his friends are always left to deal with the mess.
It doesn’t happen often— he tries his hardest not to make you mad, always saying yes and going above and beyond with you— he loves to please you and make you happy, which is exactly why it hits harder when you look at him like you never want to see him again.
“I don’t want to see you around, don’t talk to me!”
But sometimes, he just can’t help it.
He seriously doesn’t know what he did wrong— there were no anniversaries forgotten, no plans he stood you up on, no petty arguments— and yet, here he sits, sinking into his couch and burrowed in blankets as his friends try to get him to come out of his cocoon, all with no success.
“Is she mad at you again?” Beomgyu asks, his voice muffled despite sitting on top of Yeonjun— literally, he couldn’t feel his legs— and he hears him groan at the sight of Yeonjun nodding under the mass of blankets, cursing quietly to himself and undoubtedly rolling his eyes, “dude, what did you do?”
“I don’t knowww,” Yeonjun cries out, throwing the blankets off him and onto Beomgyu as he whines— he watches as Beomgyu flails about for a second, running his hands through his hair as he continues to stress about you, “she— she said she didn’t wanna see me again, but I miss her…”
“Fuck, she’s probably just saying that because she wants space— dude, are you crying?”
“What if she was breaking up with me?” Yeonjun asks, and Beomgyu is amazed to see the way his wide eyes are welling up with tears; god, he’s actually crying now, the sight childish and unhinged as he watches his (older) friend sniffle and hiccup through his sentences, “what if— what if she— she, she, she really meant it— god, I don’t wanna break up, I don’t even know what I did wronggg!”
“Okay, okay,” Beomgyu grimaces, watching the way his friend breaks down before his eyes; his hand is stiff and awkward as it pats Yeonjun’s back, trying his best to comfort him, wincing at the way Yeonjun only cries harder, “It’s… probably nothing, I’m sure she’ll talk to you again tomorrow, or once she’s calmed down.”
“You think?” Yeonjun asks, peeking through his hands and up at Beomgyu with sparkling eyes, full of hope as Beomgyu can only crack a nervous smile.
“Yeah,” he says, patting Yeonjun’s back again in reassurance, “Yeah— just, be patient, okay?”
Patient is the last word one would use to describe Yeonjun.
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
MONDAY
This is it.
Yeonjun has been waiting all weekend for this moment (Or just Sunday, to be more accurate), restless on his feet as he finds himself pacing back and forth— he’s nibbling at his lip nervously, arms sore and tired from the weight of the gift he holds in his hands; a bouquet of your favorite flowers, pristine and in full bloom— it’s large and quite heavy as it practically covers his face, but Yeonjun knew that a small bouquet would do nothing to show his love for you.
He would try to talk to you as soon as your class ended. He needed to know what he did wrong, and he sure as hell would not do it again. You didn’t text him after the argument, and it only left him uneasy at the thought of you really wanting to end things.
He didn’t want to lose you. Not like this.
Admittedly, he got a bit ahead of himself— he’s been waiting outside for the past half hour, arriving much too early as he stood out in the hall awkwardly— at some point, he tried peeking into the small, rectangular window next to the door, hunched over slightly and pouting as he scanned the room for you.
When he spotted you, he was delighted to see you had already been looking at him.
He couldn’t contain the wide smile that stretched across his face, waving at you excitedly in hopes you’d do the same— unable to realize that the whole class was now looking at him, he was confused to watch the way your face screwed up into an expression of sheer embarrassment, shielding your face with your hand and looking away as some students began following his line of sight.
Why did you do that? You were ignoring him, and it hurt like a bitch as Yeonjun frowned. His mind was racing as he began wondering what he might’ve done wrong— he was so focused, in fact, that he failed to notice the professor blocking his view, his reaction time much too slow as his eyes flickered up to meet the man’s gaze. Flustered, he backed away quickly, his face heating up as he bowed in apology— he hugged the bouquet close to his chest as he did, mumbling out a soft sorry the man probably couldn’t even hear.
You, on the other hand, could hear the way your professor laughed at Yeonjun’s actions, absolutely mortified by the way he turned around and began to joke to the class, saying that “It looks like someone here has an admirer,” whilst looking in your direction, your classmates laughing along before he went back to his lecture.
Shit, this was so embarrassing.
Yeonjun is so fucking stupid, you cry to yourself, peeking over at the doorway in hopes that he took the hint and left— but no, he definitely didn’t, because you could still see his figure through the window, leaning against the wall and holding an item the size of his whole upper body close to his chest.
The last thing you wanted to do was go outside and see him— but that’s exactly what happened anyway, even if you lingered behind once class ended in hopes that Yeonjun would get impatient and wait— patience was never his strongest virtue, after all.
But for you, anything could change.
This is exactly why you find him outside the door, face hidden with what is, to your surprise, a large bouquet of your favorite flowers.
Fuck, you seriously don’t want to talk to him right now. Gritting your teeth, you use this moment to sneak past him, a slight guilt tugging at you as you look back, spotting the way he seems oblivious to the fact that you’ve left already.
Looking back was your first mistake.
Because Yeonjun, in a truly creepy fashion, is almost able to sense it, whipping his head to you and perking up at the way you only walk faster— then begin sprinting, refusing to look back again once he starts chasing after you.
“Baby,” you hear him call out to you, the ridiculous rustling of his bouquet slightly muffling his words as his footsteps thud against the tiles; for an athlete, you’d expect him to catch up to you already, but you quietly pat yourself on the back for the slight head start you gave yourself.
“Baby, wait!” he continues to yell, ignoring the strange stares from those passing by, “Please, let me talk to you!”
“I don’t wanna talk!” you growl out, your emotions taking over as you remember why you’re mad at him, “leave me alone!”
You’re outside now; you’re a huffing and sweaty mess, but you refuse to slow down for even a second, the threat of Yeonjun hot on your heels fueling your stamina.
“Can you please tell me what I did wrong?” He yells, exasperated as he watches you run off the sidewalk— you’re attempting to lose him, but countless running drills and morning runs have prepared him for this moment— without a second thought, he’s following you, attempting to peek over his— inconveniently large, he must admit— bouquet, watching the way you simply continue to run, glancing back every once in a while to see if he’s still there.
“Please, can we be civil and talk about this?!” his words have you turning around to send him a glare— instead, you stumble to a stop as you watch Yeonjun trip, eyes widening at the dramatic sight before you.
He’s fallen flat on his face, a puff of petals blowing up around him as you wince— he’s face-first into whatever’s left of the flowers, the rest of the petals fluttering in the air around him and falling delicately on his figure as you stare, the place eerily silent save for the chirping birds and rustling leaves.
He doesn’t say anything— he doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t even attempt to get up, left splattered all over the grass as you stare at him in slight concern.
“Yeonjun?” you call out uncertainly, shifting on your feet as you pause. He doesn’t respond— he’s left frozen on the ground, and you’re frowning at the sight as you slowly make your way to him; you approach him slowly, as though you were approaching a wild animal, tense in your movements as you lean in to observe him.
“Did you die?” you ask quietly, taking in the way he still hasn’t moved. Not an inch. You feel more concerned than you want to admit, crouching down in front of him as you bite your lip in worry.
“Do you hate me.” the sudden words have you flinching, staring down at Yeonjun, who’s still eating dirt and flowers. You frown, scoffing at the way he weakly reaches out for you— swiftly, you slap his hand, watching the way it flops back onto the ground.
“No— yes— a little,” you stutter out, angry at the way you bounce between responses just from the mere pathetic sight of him.
“Can you forgive me?” he asks, the words muffled as it takes you a minute to decipher what he may be saying— you can’t help but roll your eyes at his antics.
“For what?” you ask, picking a petal off his back absentmindedly as you wait— if he could answer properly, you might consider giving in.
“For existing.”
God, Yeonjun was such a sap. It has you biting back a smile as you resist the urge to stroke his hair, mused and riddled with petals from his grand gesture— but his answer was not the one you were looking for, and you’re standing back up and readjusting your clothes without another word.
“pleaaaaseee,” you hear him whine, watching the way he shrivels up into a ball— then, he’s sitting back on his legs, whipping his head up and looking at you with wide, teary eyes.
“Please take the flowers with you at least,” he pouts, thrusting the bouquet— or, whatever was left of it— up at you with pleading eyes.
Pressing your lips together, you sigh; a moment passes before you’re taking the gift from him begrudgingly, ignoring the way he perks up happily at your action.
“I’m still mad at you,” you hiss, and he immediately deflates at your words, “Don’t visit my class like that again. Please.”
He says nothing, left to watch as you turn your back to him and walk away; he has yet to get up, his heart pounding against his chest as he watches the way you hug the flowers close to you, shaking your head at the state of them.
This was… progress.
But you’re still mad at him.
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
TUESDAY
Visiting you in class was a big no.
Visiting you in general, however, wasn’t off-limits.
You don’t want to talk to him? Fine, he can understand. In fact, he won’t talk to you at all— a feat much greater said than done— but hey, he always loved staring at you anyway.
Well, it’s a little hard to stare by the way you’ve propped up textbooks around your face like a fort.
He’s staring. He’s still staring. You can practically feel his puppy-eyed gaze burn into your brain telepathically; no matter how hard you try to focus on your work, it’s become damn near impossible with the way you can feel Yeonjun’s presence, your neck beginning to ache from the way you’ve remained ducked down this whole time.
It was easy to deal with at first; you chose not to do anything the moment you saw Yeonjun emerge from the staircase and onto the top floor of the library— otherwise known as the quietest level.
He wouldn’t be able to talk to you without disturbing the peace of others— and potentially being asked to leave— so you decided to not make a scene and go back to studying, even when you felt his eyes lock on your figure and beeline to you.
He sat across from you first. Though, you were quick to move, pretending as though you were looking for a book as you quickly ran away to the other side of the library. You felt the way his eyes followed you the whole time— he looked like a kicked puppy, and damn did that stupid tactic of his always work, because you even felt yourself pausing for a second, wondering if you should give in and talk to him.
But, you are a horrendously petty person.
You were holed up in some random corner. You didn’t even know there was a table there until today, the spot so secluded and quiet that you silently celebrated getting him off your trail.
It was peaceful— for like, a good ten minutes.
You didn’t think much of it when you first heard it; footsteps, slow and calculated as they rounded about the bookshelves. You could hear the sound of books being pulled out clear as day, though you chose to ignore it all and keep focus on your assignments instead.
After a moment, the footsteps disappeared.
It was back to being completely silent. And, in your bored state, you began to look around the area you were huddled up in; curiously, you allowed yourself to walk around, reading the spines and pulling out books that seemed to pique your interest even slightly.
There seemed to be another person here as well— maybe it was the same person as before, or maybe it was someone new— you didn’t pay mind to it nonetheless, continuing your journey as your eyes locked in on a particularly colorful book.
Slowly, you pulled it out— on the other side, you watched the book adjacent to yours slowly get pulled out as well, and a smile tugged at your lips at the odd coincidence.
Then, your eyes met with Yeonjun’s.
His gaze filled with admiration was only returned with a mean scowl from you. You were quick to shove the book back into its place, storming off to your table without a moment’s hesitation.
Yeonjun was quickly able to find your hiding spot— one might think you could cry from the way you buried your face into your hands defeatedly, refusing to look up from your dark refuge as the sounds of a chair scraping against the carpeted floors met your ears.
That’s how you found yourself here, ignoring what people might think as you hide behind your fortress of textbooks. You didn’t feel good staying in a secluded area with Yeonjun— not because you thought he might try to do anything— but because you were afraid of your own resolve crumbling, especially after you’d spent so much time trying to ignore him.
You wonder if he’s still here. Who are you kidding, of course he’s still here, though you can’t really bring yourself to check and see for yourself.
After a while, you hear scribbling sounds.
You can’t hide the way you jump as a piece of paper hits your head, folded into a perfect heart and landing in front of you with a dull thud.
Open me :( it says, and though you wish you could say you were strong enough to ignore it, you definitely aren’t.
Can you pls let me look at u at least?
You don’t get much of a moment to process the message. Another paper lands directly in front of you, shaped into a heart and scrawled with the same words as the last— slowly, you open it, dreading what might be written inside this time.
I miss you so so so so so much.
You shake your head at his words. Sliding the paper to the side, you ignore his request, choosing to focus on your work instead of giving in to his silly tactics. After a moment, you wonder if you’ll be getting another paper— instead, nothing happens; the sigh of relief you let out is almost comical, your body relaxing a bit as you allow yourself to wonder if he’s finally left.
That was your second mistake.
Because after a few minutes, another paper hits you. It’s another heart, and you find that you don’t need to open it this time, the message scrawled on top for easier access.
I’m sorry.
Another paper flies over your fortress.
I’m sorry.
Then, another.
Pls forgive me.
Then another. And another, and another, and another.
Pls, I hate making you mad. I feel so gross and sad rn. I seriously can’t go a day without you. I miss you sm, pls :(((
You feel like you’re under attack— the way he continues to throw paper after paper is rhythmic and almost impressive, the endless stream of hearts covering your keyboard and forcing you to sweep them to the side after seconds.
It’s useless to study. How can you, when Yeonjun keeps throwing his apologies at you? It’s stupid and childish and is enough for you to take your textbooks down, your jaw clenched and your eyes pointed in a sharp glare that has Yeonjun pausing in his actions.
There’s a small pile of hearts next to him.
Neither of you move— he’s frozen mid-throw, his eyes widening as though he can’t grasp the fact that you’re actually looking at him— even if it’s filled with rage and annoyance.
Slowly, the corners of his lips curl up— you can’t find it in you to react as he throws the paper in his hands, feeling the way it smacks right onto your forehead before it falls to the table.
Can I show u how sorry I am??
You don’t seem to think of the consequences as you reach for your bag in the seat next to you— devoid of anything except a few pencils and your hoodie— and throw it at him, watching the way he yelps in surprise, your bag spilling out it’s few contents all over the floor. The sound is enough to have the people around you glancing at your table, curious or angry at the sound of the ruckus.
You’re worked up and huffing as you watch Yeonjun scramble to gather the spilled contents of your bag, watching as he stutters out whispered apologies between his actions.
“Excuse me,” the hand on your shoulder is firm as you twist your head to look at the librarian, your expression falling at the realization of what you’ve just done.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
Whipping your head around, you meet eyes with a sheepish and guilty Yeonjun, gritting your teeth as he holds out your bag for you to take.
Wordlessly, you snatch it from him, shoving your computer and the rest of your items into it before you’re turning around to face the librarian; you whisper out a soft “I’m so sorry” as you bow in apology, waiting for her to leave before you’re facing Yeonjun again.
I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, he mouths to you, though you ignore it all as you choose to whack his shoulder with your very-full bag instead; the pained whimper he lets out has you gritting your teeth in irritation, watching the way he pouts up at you as he rubs his arm pathetically.
“Don’t pull this shit again,” you hiss out, storming off before he can get another word out.
There goes all his progress.
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
WEDNESDAY
Today has been an oddly nice day.
It’s nice— too nice, you wonder, pondering what may be different enough to have you walking with a smile on your face, appreciating the beautiful weather in a light mood.
A guy your age is leaning against a tree up ahead. He holds a bouquet of roses, and you smile at the way he seems to be passing one out to every person that passes him. That’s so sweet, you think to yourself, and you can’t help the way your stomach twists in anticipation the moment his eyes meet yours.
“Would you like a rose?” he asks you, his blond hair shining under the sunlight as he sends you a bright smile— you don’t hesitate to say yes, taking the flower from him with a cute thank you!
The flower is in full bloom as you twirl it between your fingers absentmindedly. The smile on your face is seemingly permanent as you make your way to your favorite cafe, though as you think back to the interaction, you can’t help but wonder if you know that man from somewhere.
It isn’t until you stop at a crosswalk that you notice it— there’s a tag on the rose, and though you initially thought it was just a price tag, you realize that it’s something else; pausing before you cross the street, you take a moment to tilt your head and read it, feeling your jaw drop as your brain registers the words in disbelief.
Yeonjun says he’s sorry.
“What the fuck,” you mutter to yourself, ripping it off without hesitation and shoving it into your pocket— you definietly recognize the man from earlier, you realize— that was Hueningkai!
You roll your eyes at Yeonjun’s weak ploy to talk to you— you can’t help the way it leaves you irritated as you stand in line to order, trying your best to recite your regular order to the barista with a smile on your face, the man before you giving you a dimpled smile before he’s off to make it.
By the time you get your order, you’ve calmed down— you’re quick to exit and make your way back towards campus, using this small break between classes to study again. (without Yeonjun around, hopefully.)
Your fingers are absentminded as you trace over the printed sticker on the side of the cup that has your order printed on it, glancing down at the text before you take another sip.
Yeonjun is really sorry.
…What?
You were more unnerved than anything. The lengths Yeonjun had gone through to communicate almost concerned you, though all you could do at this point was rip the sticker off and shove it in your pocket, ignoring it like the other one. You wracked your mind for answers as you began to wonder if you had seen that barista anywhere else, and after a moment, you settled on the vague conclusion that you think you’ve seen him in Yeonjun’s frat house before.
He’s so annoying, you sigh to yourself, rubbing at your temples as you fear an upcoming headache.
You’re startled back to life at the sight of a puppy running up to you— you’re frowning at the sight, unsure of what to do as it stops right at your feet, jumping up on you and barking excitedly— almost like it recognized you— squinting, you observe the dog.
Oh god, you think to yourself, realizing with dread that you do recognize this damn dog.
“Matcha, who let you out,” you huff, leaning down to scoop the tiny dog into your arms— in the distance, you can see someone running in your direction, though you choose to ignore it as you notice Matcha’s brand new collar.
Yeonjun misses you more than anything.
The words are wrapped around his collar, leaving you to throw your head back and groan at the sight; the footsteps are much louder than before, and you’re looking forward again as you spot yet another familiar face.
“Beomgyu,” you sneer, shoving Matcha into his awaiting hands. All he can do is laugh sheepishly, muttering out what a coincidence! Petting Matcha, he pauses, giving you an expectant look that only leaves you confused.
“Could you forgive him?”
“Go away!” you say in return, weaving out of his way and practically running off to the library; you can hear Matcha barking at you, though you choose to ignore it as Beomgyu’s calls of your name fuel you further.
You feel out of breath by the time you finally enter the library, finding the nearest help desk and beginning to rummage through your bag for any books you need renewed— the librarian simply smiles at you patiently as he waits, adjusting his glasses before he quickly turns around to get something— by the time he’s back, you’ve laid out your books for him, thanking him quietly as you watch him renew them quickly.
When he slides them back towards you, you frown— there’s a bookmark on top of your small stack of books, laminated and shiny under the lights as you pick it up to get rid of the glare— reading it, you can already feel the need to tear it, though it seems as this cheeky worker is already one step ahead of you.
Yeonjun just wants to talk to you again.
Three ways to better communication in a relationship:
The glare you send the worker— Taehyun, his name tag reads— is lethal, though he doesn’t seem to be affected by it as he simply sends you an innocent smile. Without another word, you gather your books, shoving them into your bag as you turn to leave.
“Ignoring him won’t solve anything,” he calls out quietly, though you don’t seem to appreciate the advice by the way you don’t even bother to turn back and react. Instead, you walk right back out, storming home as you type on your phone furiously.
my baby :((
stop using others to relay messages damn it!!!
my baby :((
and don’t use matcha against me you loser!!!!!!
Through his end, Yeonjun is just happy that you’re texting him— though, the mean name is not much appreciated.
Choi Yeonjun.
can you pls let me talk to you instead?
You don’t bother opening the notification.
That was your third mistake.
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
THURSDAY
Today has been relatively peaceful. You have yet to be bothered today— no Yeonjun, no Matcha, and certainly none of his friends.
Maybe because he was aware of your plans today; you did tell him a while ago about your reunion with one of your friends, always chatting his ear off about how excited you were to finally see her again—it slightly warms your heart to know that he actually listens to you.
Well. Most of the time.
“You’re fighting right now?” Tzuyu asks, leaning forward in her seat with wide eyes. You didn’t expect this sudden change of topic, but you can only nod grimly in response, watching as she sighs in dismay at your situation.
“Wow, you guys never fight— at least, not to this level,” she’s deep in thought over your relationship as she frowns, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares down at her empty plate— you both chose to forgo dessert, and now you wait patiently for your check.
“Well, what are you guys even fighting about?”
“It’s just—“ you’re cut off by your server placing the check in between the two of you, thanking him with a smile on your face before you’re freezing; you’re unsure of what to make of the plate that he places before you, stuttering out unintelligible sentences that you didn’t order… whatever this was.
“Free of charge,” the man says, before bowing politely and scurrying away; you’re barely able to get a word out before you huff in defeat, looking back at the treat in front of you as you take in Tzuyu’s amused laughter.
“What?” you ask, frowning as you watch her turn the plate towards you— you’re left a bit speechless by what you see, mouth falling open as your brain attempts to comprehend how you should react to this.
It’s dessert— well, more specifically, three full scoops of ice cream, the caramel drizzle and other toppings decorating it to make it look like a cat; more specifically, a sad cat. All along the plate, more caramel drizzle decorates it to form a sentence.
I miss you. Please, talk to me. YJ.
Your head snaps up in the direction the waiter went in; looking out the small window of the kitchen door, you spot none other than Yeonjun, his eyes widening before he’s ducking out of the way like a deer in headlights.
“How the fuck did he get back there?!” you cry out, running a hand down your face in disbelief— but no, one more glance back in his direction is enough to catch him peeking at you again, flinching in surprise before he’s ducking out of your sight once more.
“Who let him in there?” you hiss, placing your head in your hands as Tzuyu merely laughs; you ignore the way she begins to dig into the dessert after you express that you won’t touch it, humming happily that it was a sweet gesture.
A moment’s thought is able to remind you where you are— in Beomgyu’s older brother’s restaurant, of course.
Defeatedly, you open the checkbook to offer to pay— though the price has your eyes practically bulging out, reading and re-reading the strange excuse of a check this waiter has brought to you.
Your meal was free.
The only thing you read on the paper was a poor excuse of Yeonjun replacing the food items with “i miss you”s and “i’m sorry”s, the sight baffling you as Tzuyu turns the check towards her in curiosity.
“Interesting,” she hums, closing the checkbook before she’s fishing for tip money, “Are you sure you wanna lose a guy like him?”
You take a second to think her question through.
Yet another mistake on your part.
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
FRIDAY
Remembering what happened today is enough to have your head hurting— so, you’ll keep it short.
You were working— working, minding your own business, prey to unsuspecting events— when it happened.
Fridays were always rush days. Maybe that’s why you didn’t think to pay attention to your surroundings, to the blasting music, the yell of your coworkers calling out drinks and names, or to the endless chatter of the customers around you.
You should have paid attention— maybe, if you did, you would’ve been able to spare yourself the embarrassment— another mistake of yours, if you will.
The break of music from the radio was not what caught your attention— radio hosts do it all the time, speaking in between songs with useless chatter as they find a song to play next— no, what did catch your attention, however, was the eerily familiar voice, and worse, the eerily familiar message he broadcasted all over your local station.
“This next song is called Seven,” he spoke, smooth, suave, and relaxing as the track rolled in quietly in the background, “a song about a man more than willing to show how devoted he is to his to his partner— ___, come home, the kids miss you— well, more like Matcha, but still.”
You could feel your coworkers freeze around you. You could feel their gazes slowly drift to you, could feel the way customers got a good look at the decorated name tag you once showed off proudly.
“Is— is he…?” your coworker whispered beside you, watching the way you caved into yourself in attempts to hide your nametag, “is he that frat boy you were talking about?”
“No.” you say, avoiding everyone’s gaze as you focus on making your drink instead, “No. That’s not him. This isn’t about me, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“___, I’ll keep waiting for you patiently. Have a good shift today.”
Christ!
Your coworkers could only laugh lightheartedly at his words— they found it cute, which was even worse for you, because all you could wonder was how the fuck he was able to get into the broadcast station— this time, you seriously couldn’t figure out any ties between him and the place.
“Looks like he won’t give up,” to say you were horrified at the way a customer told you this was an understatement, her eyes alight with amusement as she spoke to you with a tone so genuine you almost thought she was in on it— fuck, maybe she was— “if anything, you should turn him down soon before he goes too far.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” you breathed out, tired of these constant antics as you thought over her words, forced to go through the rest of your shift pretending as though Yeonjun hadn’t broadcasted his pleading message to the whole city— well, more like anyone who was listening to the local radio station willingly.
You feel like you’re on The Truman Show, or something.
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
SATURDAY
You were scared to talk to Yeonjun.
Scared— why were you scared? You don’t know why, but you couldn’t bring yourself to send him a text message, pacing around your room like an idiot instead as you wondered what you would tell him.
Would you talk? Would you finally break up with him?
The way your stomach sank with dread at the mere thought of the second option was enough of an answer for you— no, you shouldn’t break up with him.
However, it was storming today— there was no way in hell you would be going outside to meet him in such weather, so you opted to psych yourself up to send him a text message asking to meet up instead.
You were pacing around your room again when you noticed it.
There’s a bright umbrella outside— shit, you recognize that umbrella, you realize with a heavy dread, walking up to your window and pulling your curtains open as you stare out in dismay.
Why the fuck is Yeonjun outside right now?
It’s perfect timing, the way his umbrella raises to show his figure; oh my god, you think to yourself, biting your lip as you take his expression in, he’s crying!
This was not your intention. You never meant to hurt Yeonjun like this, but you also were not ready to see him yet— so, with a slight pang in your heart, you shut the curtains again, leaving just enough of a crack to make sure that he’ll leave.
Instead, he stayed there. In true Yeonjun fashion, squinting up at your window in hopes that you’d at least tell him to go away. Instead, he watched as you peeked through the crack of the curtains, his heart fluttering slightly at the way you thought you were being discreet with your actions.
Slowly, Yeonjun turns his phone to you; there’s writing flashing by in his phone, though you have to squint your eyes and wait for the whole sentence to roll by to see what he’s trying to tell you now.
I know you don’t… want to see me… right now but I … seriously just need… to know what I … did wrong.
God. Fuck. This whole “ghosting” ordeal was harder than it should be when someone like Yeonjun was involved.
It’s been like… a week and you… still haven’t talked… to me.
Oh, the guilt is seriously eating you up right now. You weren’t supposed to ignore him for days on end, but each time Yeonjun reached out for you, you couldn’t control the way you ran away in return, still hurt by the things he didn’t even realize he did.
You’ve finally gotten a good grasp of his obliviousness.
I’m sorry… I love you… I love you… I love you…
Only three words are rolling by on his phone now. You think you’ve gotten the gist of what he’s trying to tell you as you sink to the floor, out of sight and exasperated as you reach for your phone to make a call.
“Hello?”
“Please come get Yeonjun. He’s outside my apartment in the freezing rain.”
“Uhm, let him in then?”
“I— I can’t,” you mutter sheepishly as you feel your face heating up, your stomach sinking as you hear Beomgyu scoffing on the other side of the line, “I don’t want to talk to him right now. Not like this.”
“Then I guess he’ll stay out in the freezing rain.”
“He’ll get sick!” you say, and it’s only now that you feel stupid for this push and pull you’ve created, “please. I’m begging you.”
“You need to talk to him.”
“I want to. I will.” you say, placing a hand on your forehead as you sigh, “Tomorrow.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
A pause. Then, you hear rustling, and the sounds of Beomgyu grumbling quietly to himself.
“I’ll go get him,” he says, and you can feel yourself sink further against the wall in relief, “you better not back out on your word, okay?”
“Okay.”
You hope you’re not making a mistake.
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
SUNDAY
This is awkward. You feel awkward. You probably look awkward, too.
Yeonjun, for once, looks just as awkward and tense before you. His whole body is rigid as he sits on your couch, feeling more like a stranger in your home than the man you’ve spent the past few months with, the way his eyes wander around making you feel like it’s his first time here.
“Yeonjun,” you sigh out, catching his attention as his eyes zero in on you immediately; you feel nervous under his gaze, unsure of what to say as your brain begins to stutter, your mouth opening and closing in hopes that a proper sentence will come out.
“What did I do wrong?” he cries out, snapping you out of your troubled reverie as your eyes meet his— they’re glossy, and you’re afraid he might just start crying again if you look away, “can we start there?”
“You— you seriously don’t know?” you ask, bewildered by his question as you sit back on your couch— Yeonjun simply shakes his head reverently in response, and you’re blinking owlishly at him as you stare at him in disbelief.
“We didn’t have any arguments before this,” he says, nibbling on his lip as he thinks back to the moment you yelled at him, tearing his arm off you as he attempted to keep you from running away, “You just snapped at me then disappeared— I, I want to know what I did wrong, at least.”
“Yeonjun you—“ you’re dragging a hand down your cheek as you clench your jaw, taking a second to breathe to not snap at him again, “that’s the problem, you’re just so— so oblivious, I seriously thought you’d be able to put two and two together by now!”
Oh, oh this is embarrassing; you should not be getting worked up right now, your hands immediately coming up to hide your face as you hear Yeonjun cooing out your name softly— he’s next to you at the speed of light, attempting to take your hands away as he quietly tells you to breathe in his stupid, calming voice.
“You’re always at those stupid parties, you stupid frat boy—“ you’re stuttering through your sentences, the heat in your face humiliating as you feel your emotions finally tumbling down, “and I know I told you I’m okay with it— I am, I really am— but what I’m not okay with is how fucking flirty you are!”
You can feel Yeonjun’s hands stiffen; slowly, his mouth drops in shock, his face beginning to pale as he realizes just why you’re mad at him.
“I’ve told you— time, and time again— that, that I don’t like when you feed into people like that, that you never reject advances and tell them that you have a fucking girlfriend,” you know he never means it in a harmful way. You know that, nine times out of ten, Yeonjun doesn’t even realize those advances are happening, but it’s always just as painful to watch, knowing that charming attitude and cheeky voice is exactly how he got you, “and it just makes me feel so… so stupid and jealous and unwanted!”
You feel out of breath by the time you finish. Though you remain silent and try to calm yourself, you instead begin to feel more anger festering inside you as you take in Yeonjun’s face, full of dread and realization as he begins to think back to how he was acting back at the frat party that caused this mess.
Yeonjun was used to people acting the way they did around him. It never fazed him, and most of the time he simply followed along because he found it fun. No, he never thought of having anyone else but you, you’re his everything— though, he does realize how inconsiderate he’s been of your feelings now.
“Baby, baby, I’m so sorry,” he says, his words genuine and filled with guilt as he cups your face gently, “I didn’t know.”
“Fuck!” Your response is unprecedented as you shake his hands off you, pushing him back and forcing him to lay across the couch as he looks up at you in surprise. He’s unable to do anything as he watches the way you throw your legs on each side of his waist, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and tugging him up as you sneer at him.
“That’s your problem, you just don’t know—!” pushing him back on the couch, he lets out a soft oof! unable to help the way his stomach swirls in anticipation of your next move, “You’re just too stupid, you don’t know anything unless someone spells it out for you!”
Shit. Yeonjun has never seen you like this, frustrated and restless as you shift above him, your eyes alight with rage as you begin tugging your hoodie over your head; his eyes widen comically at the action, shifting nervously under you as he realizes that oh, you’re not wearing a bra.
“You’ve seriously left me wondering if you’re even taking this relationship seriously, it’s ridiculous!” Yeonjun feels like he’s been left on autopilot as he lets you tug him up again; he’s sitting up, hands hovering precariously as you glare at him, the sight enough to have him gulping nervously.
“I— I do,” he stutters out, watching as you send him an accusing look, “I do, I do I do, I take you so seriously, and fuck, I haven’t been thinking of anyone but you all week.”
“Yeah?” you ask him, patronizing and unexpectedly mean as you look down at him, “You never fucking act like it.”
“Yes I do—!” he yells out, though it’s cut off by the way you sit down firmly in his lap, a hand threading into his hair and yanking at the roots as you tug his head back cruelly, “I’ve shown you this whole week just how much I think about you…”
Yeonjun is hard. Painfully so, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him get turned on so quickly— it’s enough to have you laughing breathily, tugging on his hair again and listening to the way he only lets out a high whine in response.
“What you’ve shown me this week,” you hiss, bringing him close to you, your lips grazing against his as you speak, “is that you’re a desperate bitch that doesn’t know how to be patient.”
“You were ignoring me,” he fights back, letting out a breathy wince at the way your grip tightens on his hair, “you’ve been so mean to me—!”
Yeonjun doesn’t get another word in on the matter. The way you bite his lip ruthlessly and sneak your tongue into his mouth has you feeling the way he practically turns to putty under you, his cheeks just as red as his lips as he gasps against your own, feeling the way you begin to grind against his cock without remorse.
“Me? I’ve been mean to you?” you wonder out loud, hands running down his chest before you’re tugging his shirt up; you don’t bother taking it off as it rests against his chest, leaning him back and running your hands over his skin as you take in the way his stomach twitches in response. “do you know how many people think they’ve actually got a chance with you, all because you refuse to use common sense and say, oh, I’ve got a girlfriend!”
Yeonjun shakes his head; there’s no way your words are true, especially when he’s literally obsessed with you. But of course, you’re always right— which is exactly why you’re fueled to rake your nails down his skin, leaving him to hiss and twitch at the feeling of your acrylics digging into his stomach and leaving bright, red scratch marks— acrylics he paid for because he thought they were pretty, the reminder only making his cock twitch pathetically.
“There’s no one in this world that has a chance with me but you,” Yeonjun insists, pouting at the way you only scoff at his words, “I’ve never done anything to fuel other people’s strange fantasies.”
“God, you’re stupid,” you say, and Yeonjun thinks he must’ve lost his mind from the way he can feel a whine building up in his throat, “and to think I found that endearing.”
“You’re so mean,” he pouts— though he’s quick to regret it, letting out a loud cry as you begin grinding against him, able to feel the warmth of your pussy through the thin shorts you wear, your breast bouncing from the way your body begins to move.
“You don’t like it?” You ask, tilting your head to watch as he merely shakes his head in response— all you can do is plant yourself to where you can feel his length pressed up against your slit, throbbing against you as you pout at him in false pity, “no you don’t like it, or no you do?”
“I— I…” he doesn’t know how to respond; it seems as though Yeonjun hasn’t figured out the response for himself, but you can feel it from the way his hips buck up into yours, stuttering and without rhythm as he remains defenseless under you.
“You do like it,” you say, mocking at the way he only whimpers from the feeling of your nails digging into his hips, “Feels nice to be on the receiving end, baby?”
Fuck. Fuck, oh fuck, this was strange and new and Yeonjun was definitely enjoying himself more than he thought he should, a melted pile of remorse and love as he pathetically waited for your next move, doe eyes staring up at you as he felt his mouth part, unable to say anything as he gave in to the mean look you sent him.
“Been waiting patiently for me, hmm?” you ask him, thinking back to his earlier words as you watch him nod eagerly in confirmation, “So you bothering me every day of the week was you being patient?”
“I just wanted to talk,” Yeonjun whines out, chest heaving at the way you begin rolling your hips against his, your rhythm firm and dangerous as he feels weak moans leaving him like a stream, “but you— you kept avoiding me, I wanted to get some confirmation that you didn’t break up with me that day…!”
“Yeah?” you mock him, your voice just as whiny and breathy as his as you lean down to him; placing your hands on his chest, you tilt your head, grinding your cunt against him in a way that has him panting and looking for someplace to grab onto, “and did you get your answer?”
Yeonjun doesn’t even think he registered what you said. All he knows is that the way you’re sitting on him is genuinely cruel, especially with the way he hasn’t felt your body against his in so long. His mind is muddled and he can feel himself losing control from the way his hips begin to buck up, his brain going blank except for the thought that he hasn’t felt you against him in what seems like ages, his body so pent up with frustration that he can’t help but chase after the slight pleasure you offer him.
Yeonjun’s mind has blanked out. You can see it in his face, the way it’s twisted with pleasure as he fails to respond to you, body bucking up into you so wildly that you have to steady yourself with two hands pressed firmly against his chest, your balance getting screwed over at his attempts to fuck up into you.
The feeling of your warm hands is enough to bring Yeonjun back, eyes widening in realization as his eyes meet yours, clouded with so much need that it has Yeonjun slowing his pace immediately.
“Fuck, fuck, wait,” he stutters out, eyes widening at the way your cunt is practically leaking onto him— he can feel it through the layers of clothes, “wait wait wait, I’m so— ah, please— so… sososo close, baby, please…!”
“Wait?” you echo, brows furrowing as he nods frantically in response, “thought you didn’t like waiting?”
“No, please, please,” he whimpers, though his hips don’t stop their mindless rutting into your warm cunt, “please, don’t wanna come like this, wanna be inside you.”
“No?” you repeat, the mocking tone of your voice making his eyes screw shut, “why don’t you stop then? It’s all up to you.”
Oh, of course he can stop— though, that doesn’t mean he will, your hips slowly grinding against his as you watch the way his mouth falls open, not a sound falling past it before his hips buck up into you wildly— slowly, you feel a warmth spread beneath you, Yeonjun’s eyes screwed tightly as tears begin to peek from the corners.
“Nooooo nonono, no, not like this,” he cried quietly to himself, ever the hypocrite as his hands fly to your waist, riding out his orgasm with loud, shameless moans.
“Oh, my baby,” you say, pouting at the way he apologizes to you under his breath, “Is that it? Are you done now?”
“No, not done,” he’s quick to respond despite his rattled state of mind, looking up at you through bleary eyes.
“No?” you hum, taking a moment to watch him carefully.
“No,” he repeats, breathless as his grip tightens on your hips— even through the sensitivity, you can still feel his hips roll up into yours, quiet whimpers and whines leaving him as he does so— though, he can’t find it in himself to stop, at least not with the way he has yet to feel you around him.
“God, this is so pitiful,” you say, frowning at the way Yeonjun struggles to sit up underneath you; you’re cupping his face as he looks up at you, teary eyes and flushed face unable to say anything as he simply leans into your touch— the way you coo softly has him pouting, and you can’t resist the urge to hover over his lips, teasing him with a smile as you brush over them, placing chaste kisses that only have him chasing you for more.
“What a good bitch,” you hiss, feeling the way his hands have wandered up to play with your breasts, obsessed as always as his fingers tug and circle your nipples, eager to feel them harden under his touch, “doesn’t matter how many times you cum, hmm? Just need to make me feel good?”
“Yes, yes yes yes,” he babbles, wincing and moaning at the way your lips have begun to wander along his neck, nipping and sucking and leaving enough marks that a person could spot from far away with ease; the way your teeth sink into his skin practically has him crying, and he can feel his heart pounding against his chest the moment he feels you pause, your nose nuzzling into the spot behind his ear, your breath ticklish on his skin as you laugh.
“Are you wearing my perfume, junie?” You mumble, hearing the way he can only whine in embarrassment; he doesn’t answer you, and you bite at his earlobe softly as you wait, silently demanding a response as his hands fall to your hips, gripping them pathetically as though his life depended on it.
“I missed you,” he repeats, the words making you roll your eyes as your hand finds itself in his hair; you’re tugging at it, tilting his head and exposing his neck to you as you begin to nose along the column, closing your eyes to confirm if this is really your scent, “couldn’t smell you on my clothes anymore, love your scent s’much, ah…”
His neck has always been sensitive; that’s exactly why you choose to focus on it so much, not leaving until it’s covered with your marks and his tears have run down them, his soft sniffles making you glance up as you take him in, overstimulated and a mess as he bites his lip in an attempt to quiet himself.
“Too much, baby?” You coo, running a hand through his hair and pushing it back comfortingly, watching as he shakes his head adamantly, his wide eyes shiny and tear-filled as he looks up at you.
“No,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you towards him; his face is buried in your chest, and you can’t hold back the gasp you let out as his mouth immediately attaches itself to your breast, plump lips sucking at it as his tongue runs along it, messy and spit-filled as he looks back up at you, grinding you into him with weak whimpers, “want you to use me, you can do anything you want to me, just wanna please you.”
“Such a good boy for me, junie,” you say, his eyes fluttering close at your fond comment. “Are you gonna listen to me, for once?”
“I always listen to you,” he insists, and you feel irked by his words as you scoff.
“Like hell you do,” you sneer, easily angered as he shrinks down from your cold gaze, “Show me then— strip.”
Yeonjun is eager to listen, eager to please; you don’t think you’ve ever seen him get undressed so quickly, kicking off his pants and throwing his shirt off in some random direction as he looks up at you expectantly, his cock a mess and already beginning to harden as your eyes fall to it.
“Hard already?” You muse, watching the way his cheeks blush red at your comment. Your hand is teasing as you wrap your fingers around his length, your perfect nails shining under the light as you slowly begin to move up and down, the cum from his previous orgasm guiding your movements as he begins to twitch under you, crying softly at the overstimulation.
“Guess you weren’t lying,” you sigh out, finger swiping over his throbbing tip as you hear him yelp at the feeling, “just a cute body for me to use, hmm? You’re nothing but a dick for me to get myself off on?”
Yeonjun is mindlessly agreeing with you— your words are clearly affecting him, his cock leaking and throbbing in your hand, making a mess of it as his head falls back, throat displaying all the marks you left on him earlier like a trophy.
His head is snapping back up the moment you sink onto him. You’re warm, tight, and so fucking wet, his body jolting at the feeling of you clenching around him, taking him inch by inch as he feels the way your walls stretch to adjust to him.
“Fuck…” you hiss, your arousal practically dripping on him from how good he feels— “Yeonjun, shit.”
“Waiiittt, wait, oh god, no— don’t say my name like that, fuck,” Yeonjun begins moaning, your lips quirking into a smile as you watch his eyes screw shut, already knowing what’s coming from the way he holds onto you tighter, head buried into your chest as he tries to still your hips.
“Hmm? What’s wrong?” You ask, feigning innocence as you roll your hips into him, moaning dramatically as you do, “Oh, Yeonjun, Yeonjun— fuck, junie, you feel so good, feel so full…”
He’s shaking his head hopelessly; you know what you’re doing to him, and he feels pathetic by the way he loses his senses the more you sink onto him, his cock twitching in you uncontrollably as he warns you to stop, stop, stop before I…!
“This is embarrassing, Yeonjunie,” you pout, feeling the way a warmth spreads inside you the moment you sit on his hips snugly, feeling him bottomed out inside you as he attempts to muffle his sounds. His ears are bright red and he refuses to show you his face as he keeps you close to him, his arms still hugging you flush against him as you feel the valley of your breasts become wet with his tears.
“Why are you crying, hmm?” You ask him, looking down to see the way he still hides his face, “You’ve already come twice, shouldn’t you be happy? You’re so easy, Yeonjunie.”
Your words are degrading, your voice cold as continue to mock him— and though you pretend otherwise, you can feel the way he ruts his hips into you with every mean comment, clearly enjoying himself more than he lets on as he lets out a broken cry against your skin.
“Fuck, are you seriously getting off to this?” You snap, bored with pretending as though you don’t feel your boyfriend clinging to you tighter as you degrade him, “You’re such a fucking slut— you get off to anything, don’t you?”
The way you pull him away from your skin is sudden and rough, a soft yelp leaving him as he’s finally forced to face you, eyes fluttering open and meeting your own, your face twisted in annoyance as you look down at him.
“Acting like a bitch in heat, already came twice from nothing,” you grit, rolling your hips against his as you watch the way his eyes roll back— your other hand comes up to grip his cheeks, digging into the flesh and squeezing them together as he pouts at you, eyes welling with tears as he feels your nails dig into him.
“Don’t you feel bad? How am I supposed to get myself off if you can barely keep your dick up for more than a minute?” Your eyes darken at the way he simply lets out a pathetic sorry, ‘m so sorry baby, “What? I don’t think I heard you right.”
Your pussy feels so good around him; Yeonjun is barely able to think straight from the way you’ve begun to bounce on his cock ruthlessly, the sight of your breasts bouncing before him hypnotizing as you jerk his head back up to look at you, towering over him and demanding as you slow your hips to a mean grind.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whines out, his words incoherent and mushed together as you keep a hold of his face, listening as you hiss out for what? “‘M sorry for being so impatient— ah, ah, please— ngh, sorry for coming too soon, sorry for…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence. He can’t find the ability to, distracted by the way your sounds have picked up, your fingers rubbing circles on your clit as you continue to use his cock like a toy; his cheeks feel sore as he stares at you with wide eyes, watching your face contort with pleasure, your rhythm become sloppy as you feel your legs getting tired.
You didn’t think Yeonjun would pick up on it; without any warning, you find your back colliding against the couch, your eyes widening as you feel Yeonjun still settled in between your legs, cock still nestled deeply inside you; he’s still a pouty mess above you, hands gripping onto your hips as he begins rutting into you, his thrusts rough and out of control as he takes in your figure hungrily.
“Sorry for making you feel unwanted,” Yeonjun babbles, feeling you throw your arms around his neck from the sudden confession, bringing him in close as you feel his face hover above your own, “I only want you, want you to use me and mark me so others know who I belong to, I’m all yours baby— please, please please please tell me you’re close, wanna feel you come on my cock, wanna make you feel good, missed you, missed this pussy, fuck, mmh, ugh, feel so good, so good, soso good, please, baby—“
Yeonjun thinks you’re something of an aphrodisiac to him; at least, that must be the explanation if he’s able to cum the moment he feels you unravel around him, unrestrained and addicted to the feeling as he listens to your pretty sounds, practically melting as he hears your voice purring under him— so good, fuck, you’re all mine Yeonjunie, all mine…
You don’t think you’ve ever felt Yeonjun cum this much— his cock continues to twitch and release inside you even after you’ve come down from your high, the man above you burying his head into the crook of your neck as he cries softly at the feeling, unable to help the way his hips buck forward to ride out his orgasm.
This shift in dynamic is new— but it’s addicting, and you find yourself thoroughly enjoying the way Yeonjun clings to you, his head hazy and needy for your comfort as he lays on top of you, uncaring of how heavy he may be as he wraps his strong arms around you.
Missed you s’much baby, missed you, please don’t do that again, you could hear him mutter into your skin, a bit out of it as he peppered kisses along your collarbones.
“Alright, alright, I won’t,” you breathe out, running your fingers through his hair soothingly as he leans into your touch like a cat, “I’m sorry I kept running away from you.”
“But then again,” you trail off, tightening your grip on his hair teasingly, feeling the way he immediately whines softly, “you should’ve given me space when I asked you to. It was kinda cute, but don’t do that again— okay?”
“Okay. Of course. Whatever you say,” his response is immediate, not an ounce of hesitation as he stares at you with eyes shining with devotion. After a second, his lips part, and he’s hovering over you again as he looks down at you in wonder.
“Does that mean we’re boyfriend-girlfriend again?”
You laugh.
“You idiot,” you coo, placing a soft kiss on his lips, unable to control your laugh as you do, “We didn’t stop being boyfriend-girlfriend. I was just mad at you.”
“Hmm. Then, can I eat you out?” His words have you freezing, looking at him in bewilderment as he simply smiles at you sheepishly, “To like. Show you how sorry I am.”
A pause.
“…And, because I really missed eating you out.”
You sigh— and try not to show how eager you are as you nod softly. Yeonjun however, is shameless as he immediately pulls out, hissing softly at the feeling before he’s sinking to his stomach— you’re gulping at the sight.
“You’re insatiable.” Your comment doesn’t faze him— if anything, it makes him smile, his pretty eyes staring at you with enough adoration and love that you’re squirming slightly under him.
“For you, yeah.”
-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-
On Monday, the sight of Yeonjun on campus is enough to have you spinning on your heels and running in the opposite direction. He wears nothing but a thin tank top, wondering why you’re yelling at him to cover up the moment he answers your phone call.
“Why? It’s hot outside— …and, like, I wanna show everyone who I belong to.”
(You refuse to stand by his side until he covers up—though, you can’t ignore the way his words send butterflies through your stomach.)
#txt fanfic#txt fanfiction#txt imagines#txt oneshots#txt ff#txt angst#txt fluff#yeonjun x reader#yeonjun x you#yeonjun x y/n#yeonjun ff#yeonjun imagines#yeonjun oneshot#txt smut#txt hard hours#txt hard thoughts#yeonjun smut#sub yeonjun#sub txt
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stress.
ln x fem!reader
finally finally finally uploading this! returning from my fic hiatus with some good old fashioned lando smut. feedback is always much appreciated! love you guys, thanks for being here <3 (pls tell me if the format is weird)
in which lando is stressed and so are you.
warnings: 18+!! smut, language, lando being an annoying little bitch, sliiiightly inappropriate workplace relationship, tiny bit of angst
1.7k words
he’d barely spoken since he’d jumped out of the car, helmet shoved at the first person he saw. his fingers worked through his sweat dampened curls, sheer frustration coursing clearly through his veins. they’d failed him, yet again.
your eyebrows were furrowed, the tension in your face conveying your deepest sympathy to him. it only angered him further. you gulped.
lando didn’t look at you again.
-
you trailed behind him awkwardly, every step he took seemed to shake with rage. he’d strutted from interview to interview, hardly biting his tongue. your warning eyes did nothing to soothe the sting of his words, he wasn’t even checking himself, just spitting sarcasm, his own personal venom.
you were quietly seething yourself by the time you made it into the hotel lobby, huffing as he continued to ignore you. the way your heart ached for him did little to ease your growing anger. you caught him as he ducked into the elevator while you were speaking to the woman at the front desk, trying to lose you. you snapped. you apologetically excused yourself, darting across the floor and into the metal box, the closing doors jolting back open.
“where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“don’t want to talk to you.”
“oh, for fuck sake, lando. are you five years old? we let you leave the track but we still need to debrief. you have duties.”
“yeah well, the team has a duty towards me, too.” he sneered.
“don’t you dare take it out on me. i didn’t build that tractor.” you bit back, pointing your finger at him.
he looked down at you, smirking, perhaps at your offhand comment. he looked evil, you couldn’t think of a better word. you felt hot, face red. working with him was, more often than not, headache inducing, especially lately.
“maybe i want to take it out on you.” his voice had dropped an octave, sultry, nostalgic.
your mouth was dry, lips parted. you felt like gasping for air, thighs clenching at his suggestion.
you swore this wouldn’t happen again. oh well.
you closed the gap, sighing in defeat, lips against his. he smiled, victorious in something, finally. you hated the hold he had on you. he was warm, familiar, hands at home on your waist. he pulled away to nip at your neck, bruising you deliciously. you swatted his arm in annoyance.
“knew you wouldn’t be able to resist after last time.” he taunted. if your eyes weren’t squeezed tightly shut, you would have rolled them.
the elevator dinged, and you were stumbling out, poorly composed. the lighting was dim, dim enough that he thought he could sneak a hand on your waist. you slapped him, hard this time. he laughed.
-
lando seemed to have cheered up the second you’d dropped to your knees at the end of his bed. one of his hands was wound in your hair, tugging harder every time your tongue ran over the vein that made his eyes roll back. he was panting, his neck flexing every time he threw his head back. you could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter each time he did, his tanned skin dampened with sweat, torso on display, muscles rippling.
just when you thought he was nearing the edge, he yanked you off of him, your balance momentarily lost as he pulled you off your knees on the carpet. lando steadied you in the narrow gap between his legs, glazed over eyes staring up at you, lustful and wanting. he kept his stoney eyes on yours, pupils blown as he ripped each garment of clothing off your body until you were bare, your flushed skin pressed to his. you seemed to prefer each other this way, naked, no talking.
you swallowed hard as you caught sight of your mclaren polo, crumpled on the floor, your mind suddenly riddled with the image of you being fired. as quickly as the anxiety inducing mirage arrived, it was gone, replaced by bright white nothing as you felt his lips hit the soft skin of your stomach. his curls tickled the underside of your breasts, one of your hands threading through the messy strands. you pulled his head back, leaning down to kiss him urgently, his hands finding the backs of your thighs. you were on top of him before you could even process it, your back against the mattress even quicker.
you remembered the last time, the frantic tearing at each other’s clothes, the blurriness, the way his giant hands seemed at home in all the places he touched you. the way your eyes rolled back and your toes curled and the way your name tore from the back of his throat. it had been carnal and desperate and a long time coming. so good, that you’d almost decided it was worth the risk to do it again.
your attention turned back to him as his hands grabbed at your hips, grinding you into him while he pressed open mouthed kisses over your neck, his teeth grazing your sweet spot. you let out a breathy moan, your body moving with his.
“you don’t know how much i’ve missed this. think about that night all the time.” he whispered. “this body, your pretty little noises, god. so perfect for me.” his breath fanned over your neck, your back arching.
“lando, please.” you whimpered, uncaringly desperate for him. he laughed, low.
“i know, pretty girl, i know.”
you were a mess beneath him as soon as his fingers found your core. you could feel him smile against your skin, taking a break from the bruises he was leaving against your neck. presumably he’d felt how much you needed him, your pussy slick. lando ran his fingers through your folds, finding your clit, teasing it between his fingers. you whined, writhing, thighs snapping shut to trap his hand.
lando pulled away, forcing your legs apart once more, snaking down your body until he rested between your thighs. his grip was iron-clad, unrelenting. your eyes rolled back the second he leant in, his tongue meeting your clit just as his fingers glided inside of you. he moved quickly, hard, the sound of your wetness doing nothing to shame you, and everything to get you both even needier.
“you like it like this, don’t you?” he taunted, as his fingers hit that spot your legs kicking out from the pleasure. you couldn’t respond, hearing him snicker quietly. it made you flushed, almost embarrassed to be so vulnerable underneath him, but it felt too good to care.
“please.” you cried out once more, no shame in your desperation.
he pulled away, crawling up your body painfully slowly, the kisses peppered across your abdomen making you shake.
“do you think about that night too? bet you’ve been waiting for this just as much as i have.” he whispered, hovering over you. “god, every time i see you at the track or in the factory, bossing me around like you run the place, i just want to bend you over and remind you who you think of at night.”
you blushed, hard, you lip caught beneath your teeth as he inched inside of you, teasing you further.
“come on, lando.” you groaned, wrapping your legs around him, pulling him deep.
you both moaned, ecstasy, stress relief.
“oh, so that’s how you wanna play it?” he asked, grinning down at you. the smirk painted on your face was wiped away instantly by his immediately unrelenting pace.
he was harsh, filthy, taking it all out on you. one of his hands dug into your thigh, keeping you in place, reminding you who was making you feel so good. the other hung loosely around your neck like a piece of expensive jewellery, making sure you kept your eyes open. the look on his face, that lazy, devious smirk, was enough incentive to keep you transfixed on his face, his eyes gleaming, the dark rings around them framing his intense stare.
just as you were nearing your end, he pulled out, flipping you onto your stomach like you were nothing. he forced you onto your elbows, back arched, ass up, your face lost to the pillows. a haze washed over you, bright white nothingness clouding your vision as he went even deeper. your mouth fell open, your silent scream burrowing into the comforter as you lost yourself, your orgasm beginning to wash over you.
lando felt you let go, pulling you up until you were on your knees in front of him, your back to his chest, the angle change making you whimper into the warm air of the hotel room. he held you still, his hand snaking around you until he found your clit, prolonging your orgasm, your body shaking against his.
you both collapsed into a heap, his sweaty body covering yours. you could feel his curls tickling your shoulder, his heavy breath fanning sending shivers down your spine. an open mouthed kiss to your shoulder blade had your eyes shooting open, your stomach twisting. it was soft, intimate, the opposite of how you usually spent your time together.
this was not like last time.
you needed to leave, urgently, escape before things got worse, weirder, even more unprofessional. it was stress relief, a way of releasing all of the pent up tension your jobs created between the pair of you.
you assumed he’d be happy to see the back of you, now that you were done with what you came here to do. you were proven wrong when he rolled off of you, pulling the duvet over your knackered body.
a complete silence fell between you as he switched off the bedside lamp, rolling over onto his side, facing you. he seemed pensive, like he was trying to decide what to say. and then, finally, he spoke.
“i appreciate you, you know?” he said softly, quietly into the pitch black space between you.
you smiled, thankful for the darkness surrounding you. you knew you’d gone red at his admission. your heart may have skipped a beat; you were probably just tired, you told yourself.
“see? i knew you weren’t a total asshole.” you murmured, back to teasing him. it was the safe option. you kicked yourself immediately. you’d just had sex with him, what good was playing it safe?
“you love it.” you could practically hear the smirk on his face.
“go to sleep, norris.”
-
thank you for reading! <3
-
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I'D BE ONE NOCTURNAL SON OF A GUN
Eddie Munson x Female! Reader
Word Count: 2,748
Content warning: SMUT (18+ only below the cut), no use of (Y/N), lowkey toxic parents, harsh language, mentions of drug use (mary jane, bby), mentions of reader being on birth control, oral sex (m and f receiving), unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it for the love of god), choking and breeding if you squint.
Summary: Your parents hate Eddie Munson, and you just can't find it in you to leave the crazy haired freak.
Authors Note: Y'all this is porn with plot. And it's my first ever smut so pls be nice to me. I'll be publishing a Spencer Reid fic soon enough ;) Love ya! - nick
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Growing up, you were a perfect child. You did ballet and took piano lessons. You ate all of your vegetables. You got straight A’s. You played nicely with the other children.
So you can imagine your parents’ reaction when their perfect little girl told them about her friendship with Eddie Munson.
“That freak?” Your mom gasped, “my god, you must be joking.”
“Are you doing drugs with him?” Your dad quickly intervened.
You sat in front of them like a kicked puppy, quietly looking at your hands as they lectured you over Eddie.
You and Eddie met your freshman year of high school in chemistry class. He wasn’t good at english or science, and you were. You would help him do his homework (aka give him your answers) and he would let you sit with his odd ball friends at lunch. To you, rumors and all, he was lovely.
You two had been best friends for a long time, despite your parents' distaste. They even decided to set you up on a date with Steve Harrington your senior year: a sad attempt to separate you and Eddie.
It only lasted a week or two, and when you explained the situation to Steve, he understood. He was kind and promised to never let your parents know you even broke up.
“I could tell,” Steve said on your last date, “your head is always somewhere else. No sweat.”
To your parents, you are back to their perfect daughter. But everyday after school, when your parents think you're at a study hall, you're in the little room with a group of ‘freaks’, Eddie wearing the crown.
***
Eddie displayed the table in front of him, with only two characters left standing- yourself and Vecna.
“There is nothing wrong with running, sweetheart." Eddie's tone is cocky, "You can walk away now, everything will be okay.”
You squint up at him, “when have you ever known me to run?”
Eddie just laughs, signature smirk on his lips, “then roll.”
You grab the twenty sided die, fondling it in your hand. You roll the die between your fingers, a focused look on your face.
“C'mon! Just walk away,” Mike whispered, “if you roll then you can lose. Walking away isn’t a loss.”
“Shut up, Freshy,” you smile and elbow him in the side, “you’ve only been with me through one campaign. I never run away.”
You bring the die up to your lips and blow on it, keeping eye contact with Eddie through the process. He keeps his signature smirk on his face, but his eyes are nervous.
With a final smile, the die leaves your hand, rolling across the table, clambering it’s way down.
When it stops, Eddie looks down with a smile on his face, “natural twenty, sweetheart," he looks back up to you, "that's a hit."
The group at the table erupted into cheers, Dustin laughing at Eddie while pointing aggressively.
“Well done, Princess.” Eddie smiles and sits back in his throne.
**
After all the boys clear out, it’s just you and Eddie in the Hellfire room. Eddie let his smile falter as soon as they were gone; you knew he hated to lose a campaign, but it was always a little easier on him when you were the last man standing.
You walk towards him and stand in between his spread knees, “hi,” you look down at his slumped body, “hell of a campaign, you know. I was convinced I wasn’t going to roll right, you know my luck.”
Eddie looks at you shyly, “I know, Sweetheart. But I was really expecting a loss from you guys.”
“You always are, Eds.”
He smiles and sits up a little bit, “you’re right,” then he shifts himself to lean closer to you, “how’s Harrington?”
You step back from him with a small smile, “Done. He couldn’t handle me.”
Eddie sits up all the way, smirking, “no one can, Princess,” his hands lift to rest on your hips, “except me, my Queen of Hellfire.”
You laugh, “it was my call, though. He wasn’t my guy.”
“How so?”
You step back up into him looking down at him, “he’s not tall enough, he doesn’t have enough tattoos,” Eddie begins to stand up to tower over you, “he doesn’t smoke, and, most of all,” you move your hand to his hair, his face inches away from yours, “he doesn’t have good enough curly hair.”
Eddies breath hitches in his throat, clearly nervous and excited, and, when you almost gave in, your parent’s voice came into your head.
You back up from him reluctantly “It was a great campaign, Eds.”
And you walked out of the room listening for Eddie to call for you, but he never did.
**
Two days later, your parents were at church while you stayed home. Around 10 o'clock that morning, you heard a knock on the door. You quickly pulled your hair back and went to the front door. When you opened it, you were shocked to see Eddie standing in front of you, hair disheveled, still in his flannel pajama bottoms and a crinkled white shirt, smelling of weed and a his woody cologne.
He looked down at you as if you were a stranger before speaking, “why did you do that?”
“Eddie, why did I do what?”
“Friday. After Hellfire. Why did you do that?” He reached his hand up to rest on your cheek, “did you not know what you do to me?”
You stutter out an apology, “Eds, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it would upset you-“
“Upset me?” Eddie laughed, “Sweetheart, I need to know if it was a play. Did you mean what you said?”
You look into his chocolate eyes before finally giving in, lean into his warm touch, “yes, Eddie, god, yes, I meant every word.”
And then he kissed you.
The kiss was bruising, and the entire time you couldn’t stop thinking about how bad you needed to know how he tasted, and now you knew: a beautiful mix of mint and herb.
As you pulled away panting, he rested his forehead against yours.
“My parents will kill me if they see you here,” you tell him quietly through kisses.
He picked you up bridal style, kissing your forehead and whispering “I won’t let them,” while he carries you upstairs to your room.
You planted gentle kisses to his neck until he dropped you onto your bed, leaning over you and kissing you roughly. As he kissed you, his hands found their way to your hips and yours around his neck.
“Fuck, Princess, I’ve waited for this for too damn long,” Eddie whispered into your neck where he was sucking and biting, attacking the soft skin connecting your neck and shoulder.
You started to tug on his hair, “Eds,” and he pulled up and looked at you, “you are my perfect person.”
He smiled softly and kissed your lips, hands finding your pajama shorts and slipping his pinkie underneath the band, touching more of your bare hips. Your back arched up into his grip as his rings chilled your skin, and he smirked into your kiss.
“Eddie, please,” you whine to him.
“Please what, sweetheart?”
“Anything, Eddie, please.”
Eddie looks up at you before his hands fully grip your waistband, “are you sure?”
You lift your hips, begging, “yes, Eddie, god yes, please.”
He smirked, pulling down your sleep shorts, “easy, Tiger.”
As soon as your shorts are down your legs, you are pulling off the lace thong that conceals you from him.
When he notices this, he’s sliding down to the foot of your bed, grabbing your ankles and pulling you down with him. He makes easy work of spreading your thighs, smiling as he sees your already wet pussy.
“Damn, Sweetheart, is all of this for me?” He mumbles as he moves his hand up to spread your lips, getting a better view.
You whine at the contact, “yes Eddie, all for you.”
Eddie starts to plant open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thighs while he slowly slides one of his ringed fingers inside of you, watching you wiggle at the sensitive contact. He starts to suck deep purple bruises onto your thighs as he inserts another finger, quickly curling and scissoring them, smiling as you moan loudly at his doing, your hands finding their way to his hair.
“Eddie, god, babe, your mouth, please,” you whine loudly, causing him to bite down on your thigh.
“You want my mouth, darling? Want my tongue?” You whimper in response, “Words, baby.”
You huff loudly, “yes, Eds, I need your mouth on me.”
He licked a thick stripe up your opening to your clit, moaning at the taste. He took your clit it into his mouth and started sucking lightly, causing you to see stars.
He continued to eat you out like his life depends on it, his fingers finding their way back inside of you, working you closer and closer to your orgasm.
He adds one more finger, stretching you out so fully arounds his three large digits, and licking and sucking so feverishly you don’t know how much longer you can last.
“Eddie, baby, fuck-“ you moan, grinding on his tongue, “I’m going to cum. Fuck, can I come? Should I even be asking you?”
Eddie laughs at you rambling, sending a vibration through your pussy up to the knot in your stomach.
He keeps working you until your thighs are shaking and trying to close around his head. He works you into a mewling mess, and only then does he pull away just enough to say, “come on my tongue, princess.”
His lips reconnect with you, working you through your high, your moans loud until you finally come to a stop.
Eddie climbs up your body, kissing you feverishly, and you taste yourself on his tongue.
“Baby, you’re so sweet. Could eat you out forever.”
You smile and kiss him, sitting up, “your turn.”
He stands up, and you sink to your knees in front of him. He watches happily as you work his pants off of him, your eyes growing at the print of him in his boxers. He was long and thick, and had a glorious spot of pre-cum on the fabric. You connect your lips to the wet spot, moaning at the salty flavor.
“Sweetheart,” Eddie placed a hand on your cheek pulling you away from him, “we can stop at any time. You don’t have to do this.”
You smile up at him from your knees, “I want to. Stop worrying.”
He looks down at you lovingly, swiping your cheek with his thumb, “then, as much as I love how it looks on you, that hellfire shirt’s got to go.”
You raise your arms as he pulls it off of you, groaning at the sight of your braless chest.
You quickly pull down his boxers, admiring the beautiful cock in front of you. It’s thick and even longer than it looked when concealed. It has a vein running along the side of it, and his tip is a pretty pink color with a bead of pre-cum leaking out of his slit.
You lean in and place a quick kiss to his tip before taking it into your mouth, sucking softly on his cock, then quickly pulling off.
“Of course your cock would be pretty too,” you smile before licking a stripe underneath him, then taking him into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat.
He moans loudly, his hands gripping your hair as you settle on a tempo, occasionally popping off to breathe or spit onto his dick.
“Sweetheart, holy hell,” Eddie moans as you look up at him as innocently as you can with a mouth stuffed with his cock, “I can’t tell if you came from, fuck, heaven or hell with that mouth. I could have had this this entire time?”
You hum around him in agreement, causing him to moan again.
After a little while of constant sucking, a sore jaw, and hands gripping his thighs, he stills your head and begins fucking your face.
You gag around him at the intrusion, then you settle into the pace, meeting him half way.
“Fuck, darling, I won’t last. Sweetheart, god fuck-“ he pulls away from me before he’s able to finish.
“Why’d you-“
He smiles, “ I want to cum inside you for our first time,” he rushes over to his pants and feels the pocket, “shit. I left my wallet at home, do you have condoms?”
You shake your head quietly.
He sighs, “it’s okay, I’ll just-“
“I'm on the pill.”
He smiles, “you sure?” And you nod.
As he climbs on top of you, with a panicked look, he starts, “you promise this isn’t some weird way of getting child support out of me? ‘Cause selling weed doesn’t exactly pay the-“
You laugh loudly, “Hey, Eddie?”
“Hey, baby?”
You look at him with doe eyes, “wanna fuck me?”
He groans loudly, “God, I thought you’d never ask.”
He climbed on top of you, spreading your legs apart and lining his dick up with your slick hole, “you ready, sweetheart?”
You smile softly, “yes, please.”
As soon as you feel the tip of him slip inside of you, a loud moan leaves your lips, your eyes widening and your hands gripping Eddies back.
He rests his head on your shoulder, leaving soft kisses on your neck, “I know baby, I know. Tell me if it’s too much.”
He slowly pushes in further until he’s all the way inside of you, then he stills to allow you to adjust to his size.
His teeth sink into the skin of your neck as he grunts, "you're so tight, Baby."
You whimper at the praise, “God, Eddie, move, please god, fuck me.”
He didn't need any more convincing. His hips suddenly snap in and out of you with fever. The sound of skin hitting skin and your moans mixing together fills your small room.
Eddie bites and sucks on your chest, moaning at the sensation, “fuck, princess, 's like you were made for me. Can’t wait to ruin this sweet pussy of yours.”
As Eddie keeps talking, fucking you harder and faster, your head is spinning with ecstasy, moans slipping out of your mouth faster than you can stop them, until, quickly, Eddie pushes one of your knees to your chest, pushing himself even deeper inside of you.
“Fuck, Eds. Right there, baby! Shit!”
Eddie moves one of his hands to your throat, pounding into you rapidly, showing no mercy to your body.
“Eds, fuck! I’m gunna cum, can I please fucking cum?” Your moans echo around the small room.
Eddie holds onto you tightly, his thrusts becoming sloppy and irregular, “hang on, sweetheart, I’m almost there,” he thrusts quickly, “where do you want it?”
You drag your nails down his back, “inside me.”
“Are you sure?”
You moan, “yes! Eddie, please! Fill me up with your cum, please!”
He groans and thrusted once or twice more, “cum, baby, cum with me.”
The knot that built in your stomach untied as you felt hot spurts of cum filling you up. You let out loud whimpers of ecstasy while Eddie rocked you through it, whispering sweet praises into your ear.
As you finished, he rolled off of you, laying next to you on your bed.
“Wow.”
You giggle in agreement, “definitely wow.”
Suddenly, the front door slams open, “honey, we’re home!”
Your mom shouts through the house, causing you and Eddie to scramble getting dressed.
Your mom walked in just as you both got clothed, sitting on the bed with a magazine and him messing with his guitar pick necklace.
“Hi,” you say gently, as if Eddies cum wasn’t leaking out of you onto your light pink bed spread beneath you.
“Honey," her tone is sickly sweet, "what is he doing here?” She smiled tightly.
“Oh, him?” You point to Eddie, “we’re just hanging out. He is my boyfriend you know.”
Eddie looks at you shocked before a smirk settles on his kiss swollen lips, and he reaches out to hold your hand.
Your mom looks at you, her smile now a glare.
“You can either leave this man, or never see the light of day again.”
Eddie stood up and grabbed his shoes, preparing to leave. His lips sat in a frown.
He thought this was over.
“Hey babe?” You grab his arm.
“Huh?” He looked at you confused.
You give him a quick kiss and your mom gasps, “I’ll see you at sunset.”
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Taglist: @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @deadbolted
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#eddie munson smut#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#stranger things#stranger things smut#i need eddie munson biblically#eddie munson imagine
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Gym Class Heroes
Pairing: Regina George x Reader
Warnings: head injury, blood, homophobia
Word Count: 1600, Part 1/?
Part Two
Anonymous asked: Hey hun, sup? can i make a lil' request? i'd like to ask for a Regina George x Reader (reader is afab but kinda androgynous) where a fight breaks out at gym class and Regina steps in breaking out the fight because she gets really protective of reader (even though they never spoke before that day but both have like this unspoken attraction to one another) and takes care of reader's injuries? might lead to kissing. it's fluff with a bit of angst mixed in pls? Thanks a lot!!!!
It was your least favorite part of the day: gym class.
You hated it. Hated it.
Not that you didn’t like being active or didn’t enjoy learning about exercise and the human body and nutrition, that was all fine.
You hated the locker room. You hated the jocks. You hated getting sweaty and smelly halfway through your school day. You hated the stench of the gym and the feel of the rubber floors. You hated fitness tests. And you didn’t particularly enjoy Coach Carr.
But… It wasn't all bad.
There was always Regina.
At first, you were terrified to have gym with her. You were certain that she would find ways to make you feel self-conscious the entire semester, not necessarily intentionally, that was just her way. But, that didn’t end up being the case.
You still never spoke to her, but every once in a while, you caught her glancing at you. In the locker room as you changed into your cutoff shirts, when you were running laps or doing sit ups, even when you were just taking notes, you could feel her eyes on you.
You would look, and she would look away, and you’d get all flustered by her cropped tank tops and high-waisted leggings, then you’d look away again, trying to hide your reddened cheeks.
You had to be delusional, though. There was no way that Regina George was actually crushing on you. You had to be making it up.
Thank goodness for small miracles. It was Friday and when you entered the gym, Coach Carr yelled out that it would just be a free gym day. No particular lesson or game to worry about, everyone could just pick an activity and do what they wanted as long as they were being active. You breathed a sigh of relief and went to go grab a basketball.
You posted up at one of the hoops with a few others who were just going to practice taking shots quietly. You put your earbuds in and started playing music on your phone and began to just blissfully zone out. You took turns with your peers practicing layups and free throws while sneaking glances across the gym at Regina who was lobbing a volleyball back and forth with Gretchen. You couldn't help but notice how good she looked.
You didn’t notice Coach Carr leaving the gym to take his daily smoke break.
You didn’t notice Shane Ohman and his buddies approaching you.
You didn’t notice them hollering insults at you, not until it was too late.
“Hey! I’m talking to you, you fucking dyke!”
Shane chucked his basketball through the air at full force and it smacked into your temple. You saw stars and went straight to the ground, feeling the sting of the skin of your eyebrow splitting and the warm wetness of fresh blood pouring down the side of your face from the wound.
One of Shane’s friends said, “ohhh shiiit.”
“That’s what you get for fucking checking out my girls’ ass, you lesbo!” Shane shouted.
The group of guys were only egging him on, and as far as you knew, everyone else was stunned into silence. You vaguely saw the shape of Shane hovering over you before a flash of blonde ponytail entered your vision.
“Your girl!? Now I know you better not be talking about me you fucking piece of shit. I dumped your smarmy ass so what fucking business do you have coming to my defense against someone who’s half your size? Get the fuck out of here before I get your dad and Principal Duvall in the same room and tell them you committed a hate crime and get your athletic scholarship flushed down the toilet or worse!”
You heard the sounds of feet quickly sprinting away on the gym floor and then saw the blonde crouch down beside you through your good eye.
“That looks bad,” she winced, lightly touching your shoulder. She turned her head to speak to someone else, “Gretchen, go get Coach Carr and tell him what happened, yeah? We’re going straight to the nurses’ office.”
Before you could process, Regina was helping you stand up and was acting as a crutch for you. She helped you make your way out of the gym through the locker room. She stopped for a moment to grab a clean towel and pressed it against the wound on your head and the pressure made you feel faint.
“Fuck I need to sit…” you gasped.
“Okay, okay,” she quickly guided you down to a bench and sat beside you, still holding the towel to your head, “There you go, take it easy.”
You peered at her as she slowly came into focus.
“Regina, why are you helping me?”
“Why not?”
“Well… because you’re you?”
The corner of her mouth raised into a little smirk, “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I don’t take you for the helping kind.”
“How about you worry less about talking and more about staying conscious. Do you think you can walk with me to the nurse?”
You made a solid effort to stand back up but you immediately felt lightheaded and plopped back down, shaking your head lightly.
“Alright, we’ll stay here then.” Regina looked around the locker room and located a first aid kit on the wall, “okay, I need you to lie down slowly on the bench, slowly, and hold the towel, I’m gonna get the first aid kit just hang in there.”
You replaced her hand on the towel with yours and held it against your head as you lied down and she got up. She came back a second later holding the first aid kit.
Regina carefully peeled the towel away and winced along with you, “okay, I’m not a doctor obviously but I don’t think you need stitches? You probably have a concussion, though, so I think you should go to a doctor or something but I don’t want to move you for now.”
She started fussing with things in the first aid kit and explained, “I’m just going to clean the cut and bandage it up for the time being, okay? It looks like it’s not bleeding anymore so that’s good.”
You nodded and watched her, “you’re surprisingly caring…”
“What did I say about talking?”
You snapped your mouth closed.
“Little sting,” Regina covered your eyelid with her hand and sprayed antiseptic solution onto the wound then gently wiped it with gauze.
“How do you even bandage an eyebrow?” She muttered.
“The butterfly ones, or the strip-type bandages to pull the edges together, and then gauze over it.” You offer.
“Huh, okay.”
Regina took her time finding the right things and carefully tending to you.
“Do you think I’m going to have a scar?”
“Maybe. Probably,” Regina answered, “it’ll look cool if you do. Very rugged.”
“Stupid story behind it…”
“I’m going to have Shane roasted on a spit for doing this to you, I promise you that.”
“Oh jeez, Regina. You don’t have to do that.”
“Did it sound like I was asking?”
You swallowed and tested sitting up slowly after she finished bandaging you up.
“Slow, slow…” she commanded, holding onto your upper arms.
You nodded and came to an upright position without feeling faint, “I already feel a lot better. Thanks, Regina.”
“I still think you need to leave school and go to the doctor to get checked for a concussion. You don’t need an ambulance or anything like that, probably. We can call your parents or honestly I can drive you if your parents are working…”
“Oh… that’s really nice of you. I’ll call my mom and see what she thinks.”
She nodded and checked your bandages again. She was fussing over you in a weirdly concerned, maternal way.
“Regina?”
“Hmm?”
“How come no one sees this side of you?”
She raised an eyebrow, “most people don’t earn this side of me.”
“But I do?”
“Sure.”
You didn’t really have a good response to that so you just stayed quiet while Regina got up and got you some water and then texted Gretchen updates.
“Gretchen will bring Coach Carr in here in a sec to check in, is that okay?”
You nodded.
Regina examined you again, “can I ask you a question?”
“What’s up?”
“Were you actually checking out my ass earlier?”
Your face flushed like crazy, “wh-what?”
“Shane said you were checking out my ass. Were you?”
You just stared at her.
“You can be honest, I won’t be upset either way.”
“I…” you took a deep breath, “yes. I was. You look incredible in those leggings.”
Regina smiled, “good. I mean, not good that you took a basketball to the face for it, but good that you were checking me out.”
“You’re not upset?”
“No. Why would I be upset?“
“Because… I dunno, I guess because I’m no better than a gross guy?”
Regina rolled her eyes, “no. Trust me, it’s a compliment from you.”
Coach Carr came into the girls locker room while unnecessarily covering his eyes and quickly checked in with you, saying, “alright chief, we already called your mom and she’s on her way to pick you up, okay? We’ll get you to the front office to wait. After that, Regina, Gretchen wants you to come with her to Principal Duvall’s office to tell him what you saw happen, k?”
Regina nodded.
“Go team,” he added before ducking back out.
Regina looked at you, “Did he just call you chief?”
You shrugged, “I guess so.”
You both laughed and Regina walked you to the front of the school to wait for your mom. She waved at you as you got into your mom’s van and you watched as the blonde turned and angrily stormed in the direction of the principal’s office, now on a new mission.
Next Chapter
#regina george#regina george x reader#regina george fanfic#regina george fanfiction#mean girls 2024#renee rapp regina george#my fanfiction#my writing#original writing#writing request#anonymous request#regina george fluff
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a one shot w jk and the one night stand scenario pls pls i beg 🧎♀️🧎♀️🧎♀️ delulu levels r off the charts ever since ck
What he wants, he gets
Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (idol au)
Warnings: Soft Yandere, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.
3000 celebration
‘Fuck,’ you mouthed as you looked down at your bare body covered only by a white sheet, and then slowly and horrifyingly turned to look at the man beside you. Your eyes widened even further, your heart beat faster as recognition dawned on your face.
Fuck, indeed.
You let your head fell back down on the pillow in frustration. You couldn’t even have the luxury of experiencing any onslaught of confusion about what happened the night before because you knew full well. The soreness in between your thighs and the marks you could see scattered on your chest were enough to tell you what shouldn’t have happened.
You blamed the alcohol.
You even blamed the man beside you.
But worst of all, you blamed yourself.
You meant, in the first place, why did you allow yourself to go out and drink and completely lost it?!
And of all the people you could have slept with, why on earth did you sleep with the Jeon Jungkook?!
God, you knew you had to leave before he even woke up. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how he would react when he saw you beside him. He would probably think you tricked him somehow.
With bated breath, you lifted the heavy arm filled with artistic tattoos. You carefully watched his face, taking note of the way he whined when you left his arm. He was frowning adorably before you place a pillow in his arm.
You looked down at his handsome face. His dark, luscious hair was like a halo in perfect contrast to the white pillow. His slightly agape lips looked as kissable as they did last night. Jeon Jungkook looked like a dark prince that stepped out of a fairytale. He looked like a dream with his innocent face and his eyes filled with childlike wonder, yet his sinful body told a different story.
Sadly, you had to leave the dream and wake up.
You just wished he didn’t recognize you.
With a small, bitter smile on your lips, you kissed his cheek softly. And with that, you left. In your haste, you unknowingly left behind your bracelet with your name engraved on the inside,
Three weeks passed and yet, the memory of your time with him was still deeply etched in your mind. The way he kept looking at you in secret, a shy smile gracing his lips, the way the colorful lights from the club reflected on him, the way he finally built the courage to walk to you- they were all living rent free in your mind. The marks he so delightfully left in your skin may have already faded, but you could still feel him. The way he was so shy when he approached you was so opposite to how he was when he was on stage. The way he laughed at your jokes was like music in your ears… and the way he looked at you with interest and shyness both glinting in his eyes made you pull him by his clothes to kiss him. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to forget. You have to if you were going to work with the group.
“Until when are you going to sulk, Jungkookie?” Jin asked the youngest maknae, his voice both worried and with a hint of sermon. Ever since he woke up hours later without you and with no trace of you except the bracelet you left behind, he felt angry. That was almost a month ago and everyone in the group could feel the shift in his mood and it was affecting them.
Jungkook was someone who was often laidback, someone who didn’t want to feel negative emotions. However, everyone knew he hated when he was being ignored and what you were doing was the highest form of neglect he had ever felt in his life.
“Until I see her again,” he answered quietly, his eyes focused on the bracelet he was wearing. It was tight on his wrist, but he didn’t care. This bracelet was the only information he had on you.
“Jungkook, you know we always give you everything you want. But we can’t give you her. Not when we don’t know anything about her except her first name,” Namjoon explained gently, his patience endless when it came to the golden maknae. He could see how you were able to affect Jungkook. This was the first time they saw him be attracted to someone, really attracted to someone.
Because if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t lose sleep over you. He wouldn’t go home to his hyungs with tears in his eyes saying he lost you. He wouldn’t still look for you if you were meaningless.
“You’ll find her, Jungkook. We’ll help you, okay? But now, we need you to focus in this meeting.”
The meeting ran long. It was both draining yet productive to the boys. After deciding to call it a day, Jungkook walked out of the room. His eyes were focused on his phone when he felt someone ran into him. His hand immediately went out to steady her.
The girl bowed down her head in apology, her hair covering her face as she refused to meet Jungkook’s doe eyes. He tilted his head, about to ask her if she was okay. His large hand was still touching her forearm when he caught her.
And he felt something he couldn’t name.
Your heart beat faster. It was just your luck to run into him when you thought you successfully evaded him the whole meeting. But there was no way he recognized you, right?
“Have..have we met before?” He asked in confusion, his voice deep as he tried to peek at your face.
“N-no,” you answered while shaking your head, your hair still carefully placed in front of you. Your eyes were now on his hand that was still touching you. Your eyes widened when you recognized that bracelet.
It was yours.
Why was he wearing that?
In your surprise, you looked up at his dark and beautiful eyes. And before he could even process anything, you were apologizing yet again and walking as fast as you could to the elevator without looking suspicious.
Jungkook turned his broad back on you, his brows furrowed as he tried to remember your features and where he saw you. It was merely a second, only full second that he got to see your face before you hid behind your hair again.
You really looked familiar.
You felt familiar.
Could you be-
“Y/N! Enjoy your weekend!”
You had just entered when your coworker saw you. She waved at you, unknowing about the chaos she created.
The elevator was closing when you looked up and saw Jungkook snapped his head to you. His eyes looked betrayed as recognition finally dawned on him.
It was you.
It was your name. With purpose, he ran to the elevator only for him to miss it by half a second. You slumped back to the wall. There was no way that he didn’t recognize you now, his face told you everything.
Fuck. He was fucking mad.
He was fuming mad. He probably thought that you took advantage of him, never minding that he was bigger and stronger than you.
But still, he was younger than you by almost two years. You closed your eyes, praying this was all a bad dream. But the elevator finally dinged, signaling the basement floor. You opened your eyes just as the elevator door opened, only to reveal a huffing Jungkook.
He was breathing hard after running down the flights of stairs. There was no way in hell you would escape him now, not when he finally found you.
His dark clothes made him looked more imposing, more dangerous. His booted feet entered the elevator slowly, sauntering to where you were practically glued to the wall.
“Why are you running from me, noona?” He asked with his head tilted to the side. His voice was soft, but he was anything but.
Jungkook was both happy, yet angry. Happy that he finally found you. Angry that you had once again ran away from him, something that you weren’t allowed to do anymore.
Not when he finally found you.
“J-jungkook, that night was a mistake. I’m sorry,” you said with shaky voice, your hand stretched out in front of you to stop him from cornering you even further.
“Noona, how could you leave me alone?” He asked you with a pout, his hand caressing your face. Fucking finally. Finally, he could touch you again. “You promised me that you wouldn’t leave me.”
What?
“It wasn’t a mistake…it was meant to be,” he continued despite your grip on his thick wrist. You tried to stop him, but he was too determined and strong. His large body crowded you. He looked down at you with dark eyes, his eyebrow piercing glinting from the elevator’s light.
“But I forgive you. We’ll start again, noona.”
You were attracted to him, really you were. But the way he was right now, the way he sounded almost…terrifying, woke you up from the dream you were in. Jungkook was no prince charming.
“I need you to step back, Jungkook,” you said with a strong voice, pushing him away to no avail. “We need to talk about this?”
Jungkook chuckled darkly. “You want to talk? Fine, we’ll talk, noona.”
And before you knew it, he leaned down and your body was thrown over his wide shoulder.
Who would hear your cry for help in the basement? Who would stop him?
“Is that her?” Taehyung asked as he watched their maknae carried someone over his shoulder. He was finally smiling. No one knew this side of Jungkook. Behind his sweet smiles and personality, Jeon Jungkook was an obsessive man. No one knew, and unlucky you, you were about to experience first hand.
“It seems like,” Jimin answered before smiling.
No one could really control their maknae. What he wanted, he got.
Alternative ending
#jeon jungkook fic#jungkook x reader#yandere bts#3000 celebration#jungkook x you#yandere jungkook#jungkook x y/n#jeon jungkook x uou#jeon jungkook x reader
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x : POCKY GAME ! :*+ﾟ
in which: you play the pocky game w/ various bllk boys!
warnings: gn!reader, ooc for some, fluff, lots of kissing, suggestive but not nsfw, 300-600 words depending on which blurb :p, the writing is better in some parts than others forgive me i was fighting for my life trying to get everything right >.<
a/n: if you enjoy pls like or reblog!!! okay sorry back to ur regularly scheduled content, but pls consider reblogging!!!!! have a lovely day !!!!
CONFIDENT AND COCKY. he’s the one who taunts you into it, placing the confectionary sweet between his teeth and staring at you mockingly, daring you to take the other end.
“c’mon, sweets. what’s the worst that could happen?” he jeers, sitting back in his seat. you scoff at his egotistical show. you can’t stand him, really, you can’t.
you curse that he knows this trait of yours: that you could never say no to a good challenge. you know that he’s got you cornered, unable to contain his smirk when you roll your eyes and latch on to the opposite end of the pocky. at least he was considerate enough to take the breadstick end for himself.
both of you ignore the way you step in between his legs, placing your hands on his broad shoulders for stability before the game begins, but not without a wink sent your way first.
you hate his guts. he knows it, but he wants you so desperately it hurts.
he tries to contain his eagerness yet he can't stop his hands from snaking up to loosely hold your hips, fearing that this was just another daydream of his imagination. you, on the other hand, remain unrushed, taking your time and not falling for his bait.
you love watching him suffer, don’t you? pushing then pulling back when he gets too close, leaving him in a lovesick haze.
he loves that you know exactly what to do every time to send him spiralling.
after what feels like an eternity yet no time at all, his heart stutters at the gentle hover of your lips over his before going into overdrive when you press against him, leaving no biscuit or space untouched. with little control, he gives himself fully into the kiss, conveying every pent up feeling of desire that you leave brewing within him. he has longed for this moment for ages.
and somehow, you feel it. despite his playboy appearance, you can tell with this one kiss that he’s fully devoted himself to you. as ridiculous as the notion may sound, it's evident through the bruising embrace of his, the way he’s trying to commit your lips to memory, and the way that he's tilting his head to access more of you.
it’s enough to make your heart flutter.
but. you knew you couldn’t give in to his wants. not yet.
abruptly parting from him, he quietly whines at the loss of contact, frowning when you push his hands away with that pretty smirk of yours. so unabashed in rejecting him, aren’t you?
“you’ve gotta work harder next time, pretty boy,” you whisper against his lips before lowering your head to press a quick kiss against his neck. “i’m not that easy to impress, especially not with a stick of pocky.”
he watches longingly as you walk away, a new fire of determination burning in his veins.
oliver, KARASU, KAISER, SHIDOU, kunigami (after… yk)
DOUBTFUL BUT REALLY WANTS THIS. the party is in full swing, the bass of the music is buzzing through the speakers, groups of people are getting drunk, and you? well, you're playing a game for prepubescent teenagers.
“truth or dare?” one of the party goers asks the soccer player whom you’ve harbored feelings for for a while. your stomach flips in anticipation at which option he’ll choose.
his face twists into a split second of contemplation before the answer slips out of his mouth. “dare,” he answers confidently, returning the asker’s smug expression with one of his own.
“i dare you to play the pocky game with the person who you think is the most attractive in this room.”
everyone lets out a collective ‘ooo’ at the dare and you try to ignore the way your heart drops to your stomach, your nerves crawling all over you. the soccer player laughs before accepting it, catching the strawberry pocky box that is thrown in his direction.
who just casually has pocky as a party snack?
you don’t get to spend long dwelling on your query because your eyes suddenly lock with his and he stands up, never breaking eye contact as he walks over to where you sit.
the group erupts into cheers of encouragement when he bends down to be eye-level with you, holding the box of pocky in his hands with a small, shy smile. he was so cute- hold on. he thought you were the most attractive person in the room? oh my goodness, where you about the kiss the man you’ve been pining after for months?
“wanna play?” he asks, sounding a little uncertain.
the only response you can muster is a stupid nod, blissful expectancy settling heavy in the air as he rips open the packet and fishes out a stick.
“let me know if you’re uncomfortable with this.” his voice is low, murmuring something that he only wanted you to hear.
“it’s fine,” you reassure before latching your mouth to the opposite end, trying not to show the flurry of emotions whirlpooling within you in this very moment.
was this real? are you dreaming?
when your noses lightly bump into each other, you wake up to reality because this was real. you weren’t dreaming and his face was now mere millimetres away from yours. his eyes glance up from your lips to meet your eyes and you feel a spark occur, one that wasn’t unwelcome.
there’s just one little bit left, you can practically feel his lips against yours, the gap tormenting the two of you as one of you waits for the other to make the first move. he shakily exhales. you're going to go insane from anticipation.
fuck it. you’ve come this far.
he jolts a little in surprise at your boldness before melting into you, smiling into the kiss as all tension seeps out of his shoulders. distantly, you hear cheers and whoops from everyone, too caught up in the feeling of finally having him against you, blissfully relishing at the way your arms wind around his neck, embracing him like you've been meaning to for a while.
he smiles against you when noticing how eager you are, relieved and delighted at the same time.
"you're perfect," he whispers when he reluctantly breaks away, eyes droopy yet filled with desire.
you’re caught off guard when he tells the person next to you to move aside before sitting down, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as everyone else watches.
thank goodness for truth or dare.
isagi, yukimiya, REO, SAE (ik he’s like a ‘cool’ guy or whatever but i think he’s a total dork so let me have my moment),
DOES IT BECAUSE HE LOVES YOU. he could not care less about some stupid game and he sure doesn’t need a fucking game to kiss the love of his life. he could do that whenever he pleases; a luxury that he will never take for granted.
but when you looked so happy and excited to try it out, how could he say no?
“this is ridiculous,” he mutters, making his opinion known for the umpteenth time before connecting his lips to the end of the pocky stick. after a small countdown, the game begins and he starts without hesitation, biting down on the breadstick with an unmatched pace, quickly crossing into your territory.
before he could reach you though, you pull away, unsatisfied with his impatience. he groans at the sudden lack of contact, especially when he was so close to getting what he wanted.
“could you at least try a little harder?” you ask, unimpressed as he finishes the snack.
“i’m trying very hard, isn’t the point of this game to kiss one another?” he counters.
“well, yeah-”
“-if anything, you’re losing right now, love, so why don’t you try a little harder?” he asks in a low tone, nearing his face towards yours as his voice turns a little more sultry at the end.
you push his face away, grinning to hide the effect he still has on you. “oh shut up, creep. what if i proposed a challenge?”
“i’m listening.”
“let’s play it so that we try not to kiss, how about that, pretty boy? loser does whatever the winner wants.”
he straightens up a little at the nickname usage and the prospect of a prize. quirking a brow out of fascination, he relents. “fine. ass deal, but whatever you want.”
you keen at his willingness before grabbing another stick to set up the game once again. when you glance back up at him, a shiver runs down your spine at the darkened, lidded look he was giving you.
he prompts you to do the same when he takes a bite from the snack.
this time, he’s slow and methodical with his actions, taking small bites to meet you in the middle where you enter a stalemate. here you can feel his breath against your lips, fanning against you ever so gently.
this is going to be a lot harder than you anticipated because he’s really good at resisting temptation and urging you at the same time. it’s almost unfair how he keeps nearing your lips, threatening to close the gap before leaning away, leaving you to chase after him, all whilst holding a delicate piece of breadstick between his teeth. you can’t exactly make out if he’s smirking or not, but the mirth is evident in his eyes.
he’s luring you in and it’s working.
next thing you know, you’re surging up to meet his lips in a clash of teeth, passion, and desire, all in one. it’s messy, but he wouldn’t want it any other way, especially when he’s the one who got what he wanted.
oh well, this wasn’t too bad for you either.
“see,” he says, pulling away, breathless and panting, his swollen lips forming into a smile. “this is way better than some stupid game.”
“shut up and make out with me.”
he keeps it to himself how you bought his least favourite flavour because it tastes better with you.
RIN, niko, chigiri (hear me out on this one: i’m right)
HOW DID YOU GET HERE? you were enjoying your packet of pocky, really, you weren’t expecting anything exhilarating. however, that changed when he snuck up beside you, peering over your shoulder to see what you were eating.
you don’t miss the way his eyes light up upon seeing the branded snack in your hands and immediately asks if he can have one. when you glance inside the packet to see how many you have remaining, you tell him that there’s only one left which you tauntingly put in your mouth to gloat in his face.
what you were not expecting at all was for him to take a bite of the opposite end and you're immediately stunned into silence.
if that wasn’t enough, there was no shame when he began nibbling on it, closing the gap between your faces as he concentrates intensely on eating the confectionary sweet.
you’re quite literally frozen, not having it in you to merely blink, too scared to move or retract away from him lest your poor heart give out from how it thunders in your chest, reverberating with the might of a thousand suns.
if that wasn’t bad enough, the way he gently grabs your face with both hands to keep you cemented where you are only worsens your current predicament. warm palms holding either side as he stares determinedly at your lips, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
was he always this pretty?
then, when you don’t think he can get any closer, he snaps the stick, pulling back with a satisfied grin, hands lingering where they’ve sought purchase before returning to his side.
“thanks for sharing, y/n. best pocky i’ve ever had in my life,” he says before turning around, walking away to leave you on the verge of a meltdown.
NAGI, bachira (but with more excitement), otoya,
#will not accept criticism on this one bc i am fragile rn#blue lock x reader#bllk x reader#itoshi rin x reader#kaiser x reader#bachira x reader#isagi x reader#reo x reader#karasu x reader#otoya x reader#niko x reader#chigiri x reader#nagi x reader#oliver aiku x reader#aiku x reader#itoshi sae x reader#yukimiya x reader#shidou x reader#kunigami x reader#shido x reader#blue lock fluff#bllk fluff#rin x reader
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Hi could you pls write a modern au with Colin bridgerton where y/n is on a blind date that goes terribly bc the guy she’s set up with is rude and mean and Colin rescues her from her date and they enjoy their night together tysm!!!
saviour
colin bridgerton x fem!reader
summary: your blind date goes wrong but luckily colin is there to save the day
A/N- season 3 gave me the motivation to write this
-
You nervously played with your fingers as you awaited the arrival of the guy you’d planned to meet up with. He was currently already ten minutes late. You always hated the idea of blind dates, you were never even one for just normal dates but you especially hated blind dates because nine times out of ten they never worked out. Hesitantly, you glanced around the cosy restaurant and glanced down back at your phone to look for any new texts.
After seeing no new notifications, you zoned out, imagining if you had gotten set up. Suddenly, the sound of a chair scraping against the floor pulled you out of your thoughts. A tall, lean, blonde guy gazed at you intently. He wasn’t particularly attractive but neither unattractive. He had blue eyes and a pointed bone structure. “Are you Y/N?”, he asked with an emotionless tight-lipped smile. “Yes, are you Matt?”, you anxiously responded.
“Mhm.”, he gritted out his teeth. A waitress came over to take your orders as you asked: “So, uh, what do you do for a job?”
“I don’t work.”, he simply stated. “Oh.”, you muttered quietly. You took in his outfit. A designer shirt and a Ralph Lauren jumper. He was definitely not poor. You were slightly frustrated that he had not even attempted to reciprocate the question and so to avoid the awkward silence you stated: “I’m actually a journalist.”
He looked up from his phone. “What do you write about? Feminism?”, he replied cockily. He laughed to himself at what he would call a “joke”. You stared at him bemusedly. Did he really think that was funny? “No. I actually write about current situations in the news. Like the important stuff.”, you said. He chuckled. “Oh. Is that a fun job? Is that why you’re no fun?”, he questioned. Why was he saying you were no fun? Just because you didn’t laugh at his idea of a joke…
You huffed out in frustration and the waitress brought your food over. He eyed up your food. “That’s a large portion, is it not?”, he commented. Was he calling you greedy? “Your portion is twice the size of it.”, you replied calmly. “Because I need them for my muscles.”
You didn’t know what muscles he was on about so you raised your eyebrows. “I don’t think you should be eating so much.”, he continued. You glared at him incredulously. “Can you stop insulting me?! I’m going home. You obviously don’t want to speak to me about anything interesting.”, you grabbed your bag and placed a few notes on the table.
As soon as you made it out of the quiet restaurant, you picked up your phone and called the one person you knew you could rely on. Your friend had dropped you off as your car was at the mechanic but she wasn’t available right now as she was expecting the date to end later. You sighed as you pressed the call button on Colin’s contact.
He instantly picked up. “Colin.”, you mumbled happily. “Would you be able to give me a lift home?”, you asked hesitantly. “Of course, could you send me your location?”, he replied hurriedly. You sent him your location and ended the call. After about five minutes, you saw Colin’s car entered the car park.
Picking up your pace, you quickly arrived at the passenger side as you waited for him to unlock the door. “Hey.”, he smiled at you as he noticed your outfit. “You look nice. Were you on a date?”
You blushed slightly at his compliment and nodded. “Thank you so much, Colin. I hope I didn’t interrupt whatever you were doing or anything.”
“Y/N.”, he sighed as he took your hand. “I will do anything you need me to. No matter what I am doing.”
“Thank you.”, you smiled at him. “Would you like to go back to mine?”, he asked. “We could watch a movie.”, he added. “Only if you let me pick the film. I’m not watching Mamma Mia again.”, you laughed.
He chuckled quietly. He slowly pulled into his drive and opened the car door for you. He then went over to his front door and led you to the living room. “Put something on. I’ll get some snacks and blankets.”, he shouted as he headed into the kitchen. You chose Mamma Mia again as it was your and Colin’s signature film. He returned with crisps and lots of sweets. He smiled as he gave you the fluffiest blanket he owned.
“Mamma Mia? I thought you and I agreed that we couldn’t watch it again.”, he joked. You giggled. You got comfortable on the sofa and you snuggled up to Colin. He placed his arm around your shoulders. He glanced down and you gazed up at him. You took in his messy hair and deep blue eyes. Your eyes then shifted to his kissable lips and you noticed him eyeing your lips as well. You leaned in and he kissed you gently. It was safe to say that even though your date didn’t go well, you won’t ever need to go on a blind date again.
#colin bridgerton#colin bridgerton x reader#colin bridgerton x you#colin bridgerton imagine#bridgerton#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton imagine#bridgerton x y/n#bridgerton x you#bridgerton x female reader#fem!reader
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FEELINGS MUTUAL - ( c.s. )
summary- you and chris, a d1 lacrosse player, have been good friends since freshman year. he accidentally hurts your feelings one night while youre hanging out, and things escalate as he’s apologizing.
warnings - it’s smut (use of ma included oop) so PLEASE read at ur own risk, if u don’t like it keep scrolling cuz idgaf 🤭
bff!chris x fem!reader
a/n: this is my first one shot on here AHH! i’ll probably be writing more so if you have requests or ideas, pls send them my way xoxo
“i still don’t understand how you predicted most of that within the first thirty minutes.” chris shakes his head, arms crossed as he leans back against the headboard casually.
“i told you, i’ve got it down to a science. all scary movies are practically the same.” you shrug, clutching a pillow to your chest as you lay in his bed.
it’s late now, or early. you’ve been watching movies together all night, just like you usually do during slow weekdays where neither of you have to be up for class, or in his case, practice.
“i wish you didn’t insist on watching them all of the time.” he says.
“aw, is little christina scared?” you tease him with a small grin.
“i hate when you call me that. and nothing about me is little.” chris kicks you with his foot gently, and you nearly roll off of the bed trying to avoid the contact.
“gross.”
“whatever, you’re the one thinking about my dick.”
“i absolutely am not.” you argue, though you feel your cheeks flush.
“keep lying.”
you lift an arm out to smack him in the bicep, and he just laughs. “stop flirting, you slut.”
“if i was flirting, you’d know.” chris smirks, running a hand through his long hair.
“you think you could rizz up the babadook?” you ask, propping yourself up on your elbow to look at him properly.
“oh for sure.”
he doesn’t hesitate before saying it. he even nods his head a little bit in certainty.
“someone’s confident.” you laugh.
“c’mon, i could rizz anybody up.”
“you haven’t managed to do it to me, and we’ve been friends for two years.”
“that’s because i’m not trying to.”
for some reason, this stings a little. chris is a bit notorious for getting around, though it’s not really his fault. as a d1 lacrosse player who also happens to be very attractive, girls come falling at his feet.
you’re just not one of them, and he clearly doesn’t mind. you’re not sure why you even care.
it just makes you feel weird, that you’re the only girl he’s not attracted to for whatever reason. like you’re defective or something.
“right. i forgot you’ll hit on every other girl in the world, just not me.” your voice comes out more sour than intended.
chris looks a bit surprised, eyebrows raising slightly at your tone. “because you’re…you know…you.”
“wow, you really know how to make a girl feel good, huh?” you roll your eyes before turning to lay facing the other direction.
a hand snakes its way to your waist, a familiar sensation that still makes butterflies erupt in your stomach regardless.
“you know i didn’t mean it like that.”
you bury your head further into the pillow, trying to ignore the way his thumb is tracing circles against your hip. “whatever, chris. i get it.”
“you clearly don’t, because you’re all pissy now.” he sighs, breath tickling your skin.
“no i’m not.”
“yes you are.”
“i just want to sleep.” you lie.
chris fully wraps his forearm around your stomach now, tugging you so that your back is flush against his chest. he buries his chin in the crook of your neck, and you can’t help but smile slightly to yourself.
“all i meant is that you’re not those girls. you’re too special.” he says quietly into your ear.
you bite down on your lip to try and keep the grin from growing.
“now you’re just humoring me.”
he shakes his head slightly, stubble scratching at your shoulder in a pleasant way. “i’m not and you know it.”
you’re actually thankful you’re in a tank top, because having his warm skin on yours is nice. you’ve never felt it before, and it kind of makes you nervous.
“do i?” you question.
“you should. you’re the only girl who can get me to watch horror movies with her. the only one who sleeps over, or gets to steal my hoodies—”
“oh please, i know you gave that bitch maddy your sweatshirt. she wouldn’t shut up about it for weeks.” you cut him off.
“okay, she stole that from me and now she won’t give it back, so that’s different.” chris shuts you down quickly.
“if you insist.”
you shift slightly in his arms, and you hear him suck in a breath as you get comfortable.
“don’t do that.” his voice is strained.
“what?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
“don’t move like that.”
“i’m not allowed to move now?”
“not when your ass is on me.” his grumbles, and you finally get it.
“oh.”
your response is abnormally high pitched, and you’re not sure what else to say. you’re too terrified to turn even in the slightest.
“who’s scared now, huh?”
you swear he must have gotten closer, because you can almost feel his lips hovering by your earlobe as he speaks. the smile is prominent in his tone.
he’s teasing you, and it spurs a fire in the pit of your stomach that you’ve never felt with him before. you maneuver your body, and this time you purposely back your ass up against his lap.
you hear him let out a small groan that vibrates against your body, and it nearly makes you shiver.
“not me.” you give him attitude, though you’re practically breathless.
“have you really thought this through?” chris asks, pressing up against you so you can actually feel how hard he is.
you’re already pulsing, and his fingers dance back and forth across your stomach lightly. even with your shirt as a barrier, it’s too nice.
you nod in response, and his hand slides up your arm and over your shoulder, fingernails barely raking against your skin as he goes. chris grips your throat, and you push against him for some sort of friction, for anything.
“tell me you want it.” he demands, squeezing just a bit harder.
“you want it.” you manage to taunt, grabbing his arm and guiding it down your chest to the bottom of your shirt.
his hand slides underneath the tight fabric, back up your stomach, traveling to massage your left tit slowly. his thumb ghosts over your nipple, and you arch your back into him involuntarily.
“fuck.” you gasp quietly.
“no bra, huh? just for me?”
chris twitches against your ass, attaching his lips to your neck hungrily. his tongue slides against the sensitive skin, teeth digging into the flesh where your throat meets your collar.
his hand switches places, and he drags the pads of his fingers across your other nipple in a tantalizing pattern. the sensation of his touch and his mouth at the same time is bliss, and you let out a moan of pleasure.
“always wondered what you sounded like, you fuckin angel.” he praises, grinding his hips against you.
just feeling his length, pressing right against your core through the fabric of your yoga pants, makes you incredibly wet. he’d be shocked to find you’re not wearing underwear either.
you guide his hand back out from underneath your shirt so you can flip over again, sitting up slightly as you move to straddle him. he’s already bucking up into you, whining from the feeling of being underneath your hips.
“don’t tease me. i’ve waited too long for this.” chris pulls your arm down so he can give you an actual kiss.
his lips are soft, molding against yours desperately as his hands grip your ass. you rock against him as his tongue slides against yours, and he groans into your mouth.
“god, i love hearing that.” you admit against his lips.
you pull away so you can lift his shirt over his head, trailing your long manicured nails down his chest slowly, right along his happy trail. he throws his head back against the pillows, relishing in the feeling.
you can tell he’s growing frustrated though, and suddenly he grabs you by your waist, throwing you down so your back hits the mattress.
chris helps you out of your top like it’s a race, tossing it to the floor with his other clothes. he positions himself over you, capturing your lips with his hungrily.
you bring your hands up; one tugging at the curly strands of hair on the back of his neck, the other clawing at his back.
he likes this, smiling into you before biting down on your bottom lip harshly. chris pulls away, pressing kisses down your throat, down the valley of your chest, but not without moving his tongue back and forth against each nipple at least a few times.
it makes you writhe, hands tangling in his sheets as he continues.
“jesus, chris.” you’re basically whimpering.
he stops right at the top of your leggings, looking up at you from between your thighs like he’s asking for permission.
you lift your hips as an answer, and he tugs the slick material down over your feet. the air hits you, and you can feel how embarrassingly ready you are.
chris lowers himself to you again, pushing your legs apart with both palms.
“you’re so pretty, ma. so fucking wet for me, too.” he mumbles, kissing and nipping at your hip, down your inner thigh, right next to where you need him most.
ma. he’s never called you that before, and you like it way more than you should.
without warning, he slides his tongue flat against your pussy in one long stripe. his lips come down around your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue against it slowly.
“holy shit—” you gasp, and your fingers tangle in his hair again, tugging at his roots as he buries his face further.
you’d been given head before, but it never actually felt good until now. chris’s fingers grip your thighs as he continues to force them apart, tongue moving up and down against your center at a faster pace now.
you can feel the pressure building, but you know you want more. you want to make him feel good too.
“oh my god baby.” the pet name slips out without even thinking, your head is so fuzzy with pleasure.
“fuck, call me that again.” he pulls away just enough to speak coherently.
“i need you inside me, baby, please.” you beg desperately.
“so ready for me, so eager.” he practically growls, sitting up so he can yank off his sweatpants, tugging his boxers down with them.
his dick is just as big as it felt, definitely the biggest you’ve seen in person, which is a little scary. he puts a hand to your mouth, turning your head to the side slightly.
“spit.”
fuck, this is hot.
you happily do as your told, and he pulls his hand back to spread it around his dick. his other arm goes to prop your one leg up as he aligns himself at your entrance.
chris pushes in slowly, and you both let out a long moan at the same time. you can feel him stretching you, and it takes a minute for you to adjust to his full length.
“fuck…” he says in that breathy voice you love so much.
he moves out, then back in, steadily picking up his pace as you get more comfortable. you have to give it to him, the kid knows how to use his hips.
“mmm…you feel so good around me,” chris grumbles, lifting your leg a little higher.
he hits a new spot, and it sends delicious waves of pleasure through your body.
“yes, right there!” your eyes screw shut, and his free hand goes to reach for your tits.
“fuck ma, i can feel you squeezing. taking it just like a good girl.”
such a pretty mouth saying such dirty things, things you didn’t think you’d ever in a million years hear from your friend. and yet, it feels exactly like it should.
he’s practically pounding into you now, and the little noises he makes drive you crazy. his free hand shifts so his thumb rubs against your clit, and you feel your core seize up.
“chris!” you cry out, and that damn smirk crosses his face again.
“tell em, angel. tell them exactly who you want.”
his fingers feel so good combined with his strokes, and this time the building pressure in your stomach is too much. you know you don’t have a lot longer left as your body begins to shudder.
“fuck, chris, i’m so close—”
“just a little longer, hang on for me.” he says, movements growing sloppier as he reaches his own peak.
his nails dig into the skin of your thigh, a bit of pain that is not unwelcomed. chris circles his other fingers around you faster, and you let out an even louder gasp.
“i’m—”
“fuck, me too. come on baby, come all over me.” he cuts you off, and you feel him twitch inside of you as he finishes with a groan.
“shit!” you ride out your own high, releasing onto his dick as he slows to a stop. you’re both completely breathless and sweaty as he pulls out, and you immediately feel at loss.
he leans down to give you a little peck before collapsing beside you.
“i’ve seriously dreamed about that so many times.” chris says, arm splayed across his chest as he stares into your eyes.
you cover your face with your hands in embarrassment. “stop it.”
he’s quiet for a moment, and you peek through your fingers to look at him.
“you know this means more to me, right? you mean more to me.” he speaks softly, like he’s scared of how you’ll react.
you finally reveal yourself again, smiling more widely than you’d care to admit.
“good, cuz the feelings mutual.”
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