#it's not actually as dirty as it looks this table is just fucking old and covered in speckles
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figured I might talk a little about how I've been making soap so yall can judge my dirty ass workstation
I'm making a new batch this evening so it seems like a good way to show everything from the top. This is a long post, I just like sharing my hobbies and I think soapmaking is fucking cool ok
Part 1:
Essentially, when you make soap you're mixing sodium hydroxide (or another similar base like potassium hydroxide) with water and oils and blending them up. When mixed they go through a process called saponification, during which (from my rudimentary understanding) the fatty acid tails break off from the fat structure because the hydrogen atom in the NaOH (sodium hydroxide) really wants to bond in that spot instead. The Na is an ion and breaks off from the molecule in water anyways, and it and the remaining O bond with the fatty acid tail and make a soap. Don't ask me any more please I'm not out of gen chem 2 yet.
All that means is, you take some water and some oils and some sodium hydroxide and mix it together, let it react, and you get soap. The key is the ratios of oils, water, and sodium hydroxide.
The thing is, sodium hydroxide is a strong base. Which is kind of like a strong acid in how bad it is to touch. You don't want it on your hands, you don't want it in your mouth, and jesus fucking christ it WILL blind you if you get it in your eyes. So PPE (personal protective equipment) is a must. And not just some gardening gloves either, you need proper eye and skin protection.
I have latex gloves, a long-sleeved denim shirt I got from my old job for free, and some decent protective goggles. All of this goes on before the lye is opened and doesn't come off until I'm completely done with everything. PPE isn't a joke.
Anyways. When you're making soap you need stuff like measuring bowls of course, since like I mentioned it's the ratios that matter. I measure everything by the gram with a digital scale. Silicone spatulas are also a must, I have two.
I also have an immersion blender. You COULD stir by hand, but I'm not eager to splash 10M lye around willy nilly so I got the blender. It just makes it easier and gives a better final product. I keep my tools separate from anything I would eat with bc, yknow,
, so no smoothies for this bad boy. Not pictured are plain spoons for adding stuff to the measuring bowls. I use glass bowls bc the lye can corrode metal.
Once I measure out an oil/butter I dump it into a big glass measuring cup. I could use a bowl but the measuring cup has a handle and I'm gonna be heating it up later.
Did you think I was done fearmongeroing about sodium hydroxide? Nope! It isn't just bad to touch, it's also bad to breathe! And it generates heat when you dilute it! That's hardly unique to lye, but it's still a little scary and cool.
The lye comes in little round pellets that I have to dissolve into a specific amount of water to get the right concentration of sodium hydroxide solution, and while that's happening it gives off vapors that SUCK to breathe. Ask me how I know. It's not "gonna kill you, call 911 asap", but it's "OWCH my LUNGS". You know if you breathed some in, it stings for a bit when you breathe in like something irritated the lining of your esophagus. Because it did.
So you have to make soap (or at least dilute your sodium hydroxide) in a well-ventilated area. Hence why I do this in my dirty ass garage instead of a nice clean kitchen. I have a big fan set up right next to my water bath (for keeping the lye cooler as I dilute it plus emergency water for washing), and I open the garage door to get that shit out. No enclosed spaces for me, please.
Now... actually making the soap look and smell nice. I have fragrance oils I add, plus I can also add stuff like soap colorant (NOT FOOD DYE), clay (like a clay mask), exfoliants, etc. I just kinda fuck around with trying new oils together. The appeal of this hobby for me is trying new things and experimenting.
I'll update more with actual in-progress photos once I'm done. I took these after cleaning all my supplies, I have some work I have to do before actually making soap bc it takes a while to measure everything out. Hopefully I'll find some time later this afternoonnnn
#furry.txt#soapdate#yes I know my workstation is a mess#I have to be able to pack everything down once I'm done so I can't really establish a permanent workspace#it's not actually as dirty as it looks this table is just fucking old and covered in speckles#I've tried washing it#it's just damage and not actually dirt#long post
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Carnal (p.sh)
Warnings : stepcest, dubcon, sunghoon is a pervert, sex tape, cum eating, just filth tbh, porn without plot
a/n: Im functioning on 2 hours of sleep so it's not proofread,there might be some errors,pls ignore them. reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ♡
"fuck, just like that " sunghoon groaned, squeezing himself from above his boxers, his red rimmed eyes tethered to the passionate sex scene playing on his laptop screen.
His breathing was heavy, pupils dilated as he watched the man's dick assault the bounded woman's pussy, coming out covered in white cum juices. She was trying to get away from him, but the restraints were not letting her. She had no choice but to take it.
Fuck. He needed sex.
As Sunghoon rubbed his clothed dick, sighing at the delicious friction, his mind drifted off to you.
Pink.
He swallowed the spit gathering in his mouth and reached across the table to open his hidden drawer. Rummaging impatiently with one hand while his other was busy touching himself, sunghoon groaned when he found the one thing that he was looking for. The pink lace underwear in his hand was old and dirty with cum stains. Sunghoon knew that he was responsible for its sorry state. That's what he gets for jerking off in it like an animal anytime you so much as smiled at him.
But he wasn't the only one to blame. You were equally responsible for fueling his perverted tendencies. Prancing around the house in your short little pink skirts. Sunghoon was never the one to go for hyperfeminine women but turns out you were an exception. With your pink bows and pink gloss and pink skirts and pink tops, you were like the sweetest candy that was waiting to be bitten into and tasted. sunghoon craved you with every fibre of his being.
The fact that you were forbidden only increased his desire tenfold. You were his step sister for fuck's sake but his dick throbbed at the mere sight of you. Blasphemous. But who cared? Not HIM.
Sunghoon buried his nose in your panties in hopes of inhaling your addicting scent but groaned in frustration instead. It no longer smelled like you. Fucking hell.
He was drunk and horny and you were the only thing running laps across his mind. He wanted to bury himself into your tight little body. Now.
Sunghoon briefly paused his ministrations and listened for the football match still playing in the living room across the hallway. the volume was loud enough that his parents would not be able to hear the nasty sounds of fucking from your room. He quickly shut down his laptop and tredged his way to your room right across from his own. His dick hung long and heavy in between in legs, straining painfully against his boxer briefs.
Your door was ajar, like always, a careless habit of yours that had given sunghoon countless opportunities to sneak inside and act out his perverse desires.
But he'd never gone this far. Never gone as far as to actually touch you. As he watched your scantily covered body resting so sinfully against the pink sheets, an inexplicable heat spread throughout his limbs. His body worked faster than his brain and he reached inside his back pocket to take out the handcuffs he'd picked up from his room. quickly setting up his phone right across from your bed , sunghoon hastily took off his boxers, ready to ravage you the entire night.
You stirred up when you felt a heavy weight settle onto your body, you tried moving your hands, mumbling and squirming in your sleep but your hands refused to move. Something was holding them down. A sharp pain in between your legs punched a gasp out of your chest, your eyes flying open at the sudden intrusion into your body, your mouth opening in a silent scream. Your bleary eyes met sunghoon's who was breathing uncharacteristically heavy on top of you. Tears gathered at your waterline, the sting in your lower region spreading throughout your pelvis. your core was throbbing from his cock tearing through your hymen so mercilessly. you tried to free your bound hands, but to no avail.
"Wh-what are you doing" you asked with wobbly lips but sunghoon's eyes were dark and unseeing as he stared into yours. You had never seen him like this before. "Gonna use you to satisfy my dick" he whispered and started pistoning his dick in and out of you. A pained moan left your lips as his thick dick dragged against your dry gummy walls. You could have screamed and begged him to stop, but you'd be lying if you said that you'd didn't dream of this every single night. Your step brother was hot and he made you hot. Your mother had kept you away from boys your entire life, so you had never given much thought to your sexual desires, never indulging in pleasures of the flesh. But all of that changed when sunghoon came into the picture.
He grabbed your wet cheeks and stuck his tongue inside your mouth forcefully, tasting your hot mouth with a fervent passion. You moaned and arched into his touch as he began pounding into you. His lips were harsh on your pillowy ones, his tongue moving languidly inside your warm cavity. The pain mixed with pleasure made you sob, your fingers curling around the handcuffs around your wrists.
"God , always wanted to fuck your virgin little pussy, waited for so fucking long" he moaned into your mouth. You pushed your chest up against him as he rotated his hips in a circular motion, grinding into your cervix, his cockhead rubbing and poking your g spot in a delicious rut. "h-hurts" you cried, your pussy struggling to fit him inside, the stretch was too painful.
"Mhmm bet it does baby" he panted on your face and reached down to rub against your clit to make your pussy wetter. the stimulation against your sensitive bud made you squeal and thrash under him. You sobbed as the pain started turning into sweet pleasure, your pussy began to drool, wet sounds coming from the continuous collision of his pelvis with yours. His teeth dug into your lower plump lip with an intention to hurt, your red swollen mouth was too tempting for sunghoon to resist.
"You feel so much better than my hand baby, fuck, so hot and tight" His fingers dug into your soft waist, bruising the flesh with his harsh grip while his thrusts became faster, the headboard now slamming against the wall. A fleeting thought of your parents came into your mind but you weren't able to dwell on it for long, the heat spreading inside your pussy overshadowing every other thought. His hand left your clit and he folded your body into half. He cursed upon seeing your fucked out face, your tongue hanging out while drool escaped your mouth. Fuck. Sunghoon's palms moved up to grope your chest, pinching and twisting your pert nipples painfully from above your flimsy nighty, a whine leaving your lips at his actions.
"we could do this all day baby, you just have to keep quiet and we could-mhmm god-fuck all day" His hands slid down to press upon your abdomen, eyes rolling back upon tracing his own cock through the bulge in your tummy.
"B-but it's wrong" You mewled, your toes curling when he applied more pressure on your lower stomach. He bent down to nibble on your earlobe, his thick dick reaching deeper in this new angle. "Yeah, it's so fucking wrong baby, you shouldn't be drooling around your step brother's dick like a slut" He grunted into your ear and grinded his groin against yours. The Squelching sounds resonating in the room were disgusting but so, so hot, your sweaty bodies rutting against each other to reach carnal pleasure.
Sunghoon pulled all the way out and thrusted inside, snapping his hips into your cunt again and again. Your silky walls wrapped around him so snugly, his breath coming out in harsh pants. "Nasty little girl, what will your mom think if she found you bouncing on my dick like this?" His dirty words made you cry out in disgust mixed with arousal. He swore under his breath upon feeling you clench on his dick. You felt So wet and So fucking tight, he swore he could taste heaven at the top of his tongue. he watched your legs flailing around while he forced himself into your tight hole repeatedly, without mercy, the sight so erotic that he could feel his orgasm approaching. He was pounding you into the sheets furiously, all the pent up sexual tension causing havoc on your cervix. You tried to stifle your moans but he was too big and too rough for your tiny, inexperienced body. The pace of his hips became faster and harsher, his grunts and groans reaching a fever pitch, the pressure in his balls ready to burst.
"Take my dick baby, take it like a fucking whore" he punched out with a few more thrusts, his hips stuttering and then stilling inside of you all at once, filling you full of his hot cum. "Ah fuckk fuck" He moaned through his orgasm, he was cumming so much, his hips still moving back and forth. Before you knew it, he began thrusting into you again, your cries of pleasure turning him into an insatiable beast.
"cant stop fucking this cunt" He groaned and started edging you, angling his hips in such a way that it felt good but not enough to make you cum. Your eyes were blurry and you started sobbing in frustration, moving your hips up to grind against his dick. His calloused palms held your waist and helped you move your hips on him, stilling his movements while he watched you fuck yourself dumb on his cock. Your eyes were dizzy with pleasure, small whimpers falling from your swollen lips, but you couldn't stop rotating your hips, thrusting upwards to make his dick reach your delicious spots. Sunghoon clenched his jaw at the sight of his cum leaking out of your hungry hole while he was still buried inside you. the way your arms struggled against the handcuffs above your head while your hips chased his hard cock was driving him crazy in lust. You looked like his fucking wet dream.
"Yeah, keep fucking it baby, fuck it like it's yours" He grunted, moving your body back and forth on his dick like a fleshlight. It felt too good, his dick throbbing inside your warm pussy. He wanted to start fucking you again but his pervert instincts took over instead. You whined in disappointment as he pulled out of your needy whole, your pussy trying to suck him back in. You watched in confusion while sunghoon came back to the bed with his phone, he turned on your tv which was set up right across your bed and connected his device to it. reaching above you to free your hands, he threw the handcuffs to the side.
You hissed and rubbed against the red marks on your wrists, freezing mid movement when you heard moans coming from your tv screen. Your moans, specifically. Your wide eyes turned towards the tv and you saw yourself. Saw your own body tied up to the bed as sunghoon pushed himself inside of you, rutting against you while you cried. In disbelief, you looked over to sunghoon and gulped at the scene in front of you. His hand was wrapped around his thick dick, jerking off to the footage of you two having sex. Hot arousal rushed through your lower body and your hand moved down to apply pressure to your throbbing clit. You should have been angry at the fact that you had been recorded without your consent, but you didn't think sunghoon cared much about consent and its synonyms.
"Fuck yeah" sunghoon groaned, this was hotter than any porn he had ever wanked off to. The way your tiny body struggled underneath his big one on the screen, his dick moving in and out of you without mercy, your eyes rolling to the back of your head while his hips clenched as he fucked into you passionately. All of it was too much. He could see you rubbing your clit, getting off to the obscene sounds on your tv. He squeezed his tip and cursed "fuck baby make yourself cum, it's so fucking hot isn't it?"
You nodded and whined, your moans overlapping with the moans coming from the speaker. Too good, it felt too good. You rubbed your clit faster, looking to the side to watch sunghoon jerk off furiously. His palm moved up and down, playing with his own balls, his entire chest covered in a sheen of sweat. "Im-im so close" you whined and he groaned, watching you gather his cum out of your abused hole with your free hand and suck onto your fingers, basically slurping on his cum. "Oh my fucking god " He sighed, his own eyes closing shut at the pleasure.
The Squelching sounds on the screen mixed with the filthy sounds of you both masturbating like perverts pushed you over the edge. The orgasm hit you like a damn train, your back arched off the bed while you kept rubbing yourself to ride your high. The filthy taste of sunghoon's cum on your tongue was too good. Sunghoon came just moments later, eyes fixated on your swollen pussy, spilling all over his palms and thighs "oh yeah, shit shit shit" he hissed while he rubbed himself raw.
Small sighs of pleasure and satisfaction filled the space between your heated bodies. As you both came down from your mind blowing orgasms, the bodies continued rutting against each other on the screen. It was starting to get hot again. The passion permeating your senses. You squirmed and met sunghoon's eyes which were already set on you. They were dark and blown in lust. Before you could say anything, he was hovering over your spent body again, rubbing his cockhead against your swollen clit, making you whimper in overstimulation.
"let's fuck while we watch us fuck"
#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen smut#enhypen#enhypen hard headcanons#enhypen hard hours#enha#park sunghoon#sunghoon imagines#sunghoon smut#enhypen x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen scenarios#enhypen sunghoon smut#sunghoon enhypen#sunghoon x you
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˖°🕷️ ࣪𖤐 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗽-𝗳𝗮𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝘁𝗼𝗷𝗶 ˖°🕷️𖤐
: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 unprotected sex 𖥔 step-father x step-daughter 𖥔 porn with plot 𖥔 banter 𖥔 dom daddy and his little girl 𖥔 neck kissing 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 praise 𖥔 bj 𖥔 biting 𖥔 nipple play 𖥔 daddy issues 𖥔 dirty talking 𖥔 small pillow talk 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut
: ̗̀➛ words: 4.0k
: ̗̀➛ notes: ok look, i was ovulating and i had to write this for some reason. i even wrote a nanami one (but he's your step-uncle). my mind was in the gutter and i wanted to challenge myself to something super taboo. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.
Here you were, standing on a worn-out welcome mat, staring at the door of your ex-stepfather’s house.
It’s surreal.
A month ago, when your mom dropped the bomb about their divorce, you felt like your world was crumbling. Part of you felt relieved, like you could finally breathe without suffocating under their constant tension. And the other part? Well, it felt like a piece of you was being ripped away.
Last week, when the papers were finalized, making it official that they were done, you locked yourself in your room. The silence was deafening, and you couldn’t shake off that nagging feeling of missing him. Missing Toji. It’s ridiculous, right? He’s not your step dad anymore. He’s just some guy now. Too old, too wrong, too different.
You should just turn around and leave, forget about all this.
But you couldn’t.
Not today.
Not when you’re clutching your hard-earned bachelor’s degree, wearing a stupid graduation gown that felt like a costume. He didn’t bother showing up for your biggest achievement, just like your mother. She was always occupied with her own life to care about you. You were just an accident, a spill on her pile of kitchen table bills.
Toji, though, he was different. He actually paid attention, listened to you, cared about what you had to say. Maybe you’re being stupid for wanting to talk to him, to pour out everything that’s been eating you up for months. But you needed to do this, for yourself, even if it meant facing the reality that he’s not part of your life anymore.
So, you’d driven straight to his residence building, skipping the after parties with your friends. You were twenty-two for fuck’s sake. If you wanted to spend the night celebrating with your step-dad, then that’s exactly what you were going to do.
Enough was enough.
Your trembling finger hovered over the doorbell, each second feeling like an eternity. The sharp pricks of anxiety danced on your palms, and the weight on your shoulders threatened to crush you. But you couldn’t turn back now.
The ache in your chest demanded resolution, an answer to the haunting question that had plagued you since your mother first brought him into your life: Do I want to fuck my step-dad?
Yes. Yes, you very much did.
The clicks of the lock rattled and the door knob twisted clockwise.
Toji stood in the doorway, his presence dominating the space as if he had devoured the entire door frame. His twelve abdomen muscles rippled, stark against his skin. Jet-black hair clung wetly to his forehead, partially obscuring his eyes. With sweatpants slung low on his hips, a tantalizing trail of hair led downward, drawing attention to the area you often found yourself fantasizing about.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered under his breath, realization dawning. “It was today, wasn’t it?”
“You’re such an ass,” you spat out, your body trembling with a mix of emotions—his forgetfulness, his proximity to you, the sheer presence of him. But at this moment, all your focus was on the pain of him abandoning you after promising he’d be there. “I was completely alone, Toji. Do you even understand how embarrassing it was to stand there by myself while everyone else had their families?”
“Sweetheart—”
“No. No, you don’t get to call me that. You don’t—You made me a promise, Toji. You swore you’d be there for me.”
“I know,” he murmured, running his hand down his face. “I’m sorry, kid. Come here.” He grasped your wrist and drew you towards him, enveloping you in a tight embrace. His strong arms wrapped around your body, reminiscent of the times he used to challenge you by having you sit on his back during push-ups to prove you wrong about being too heavy for him. “Better?”
“No,” you grumbled, resting your cheek against his chest. He had the scent of spruce and cigarettes that you found strangely comforting. What you wouldn’t do to sleep on his chest for hours, days and weeks. “Toji, I . . . I want to talk to you about something.”
“What is it?” he asked, stepping back.
“Can we sit down first?”
He grinned. “Of course, baby.”
With a shy smile of your own, you took his hand, feeling the warmth of his touch as he led you towards the plush couch at the center of the room. Memories of previous visits with your mother flashed briefly in your mind, but they were quickly replaced by the present moment.
The apartment’s decor was simple yet masculine, with red-brick walls lending a rustic charm. A mounted television, a large couch, and a hanging boxing bag added character to the space. The kitchen, though small, was designed in an L-shape, showcasing Toji’s dedication to fitness with his assortment of protein powders and supplements neatly arranged.
As you both settled onto the couch, Toji relaxed back, spreading out his legs and placing his arms on the backrest. His gaze lingered on you as you gracefully removed your graduation gown and placed your degree on his coffee table.
“Your mother allowed you to wear that?” His thumb traced the curve of his lower lip as his gaze roamed shamelessly over you.
The gown you had on was a sleek, satin creation with a daring thigh-high slit. Its fabric was delicate, featuring thin straps and a plunging cleavage that barely contained your breasts. It was no secret that you had chosen it with Toji in mind, especially since your mother had been “too busy” to accompany you on your shopping trip.
“She doesn’t control my wardrobe,” you replied, your voice laced with confidence as you settled beside him. One leg tucked beneath you, the other languidly extended, the slit in your dress showcasing the smoothness of your skin. Toji’s gaze followed the line of exposed flesh before meeting your eyes. “Besides, you shouldn’t be the one to talk.”
His smirk widened when you pointed out his lack of a shirt. “My house, my rules.”
You changed the subject. “Care to explain why you missed my graduation?”
“Work,” he replied shortly.
“Is that so?”
“I got a last-minute call for a match. The prize money was going to cover the next three months’ rent.” Toji was a professional MMA fighter. You had once attended one of his matches for ten minutes before almost passing out from witnessing how brutally he defeated his opponent. His persona in the ring was a juxtaposition to the sarcastic yet caring man he was at home with you.
“Did you win?” you asked, absently twirling the bracelet he had given you for your twenty-first birthday.
“Yeah,” he replied, his tone carrying a hint of pride. “I won.”
“Good.” You lifted your gaze to meet his, only to find his eyes fixed on you. “Do you miss home?”
“I am home.”
“You know what I mean.”
He took a deep breath, gazing at the blank television screen. Tilting his head back towards you, he wore a lopsided grin. “I miss you. Does that count?”
Your insides turned to jelly at his words, but you refused to let yourself falter, refusing to become the shy, sweet girl you once were, despite the depraved and forbidden reel playing in your mind.
You missed watching television with your head on his lap. You missed cooking together. You missed doing the dishes afterward. You missed joining him on walks and runs just to spend a little extra time together. You missed dragging him to malls with you and trying on clothes, posing as sexily as you could, but obviously, he didn’t understand the signals. He never did. Even if you’d spend more time with him than your own mother.
Silence ensued around you, only the subtle sounds of your choppy breaths and his composed ones were heard.
“Why are you here, kid?” Toji’s gruff voice cut through the air.
“To see you.”
“Why are you here?”
You held your breath tightly in your chest. “I wanted to talk.”
“About?” He was quick with the question, as if he knew what you were about to say, but wanted to hear it from your lips. Lips that he couldn’t pull his eyes away from. “Talk to me.”
“I—” You felt a knot form in your throat. “I wanted to check up—”
“Bullshit.”
Yeah, bullshit.
What were you scared of? This was the man who cut up fruits for you when you were mentally deprived from crunching for your exams. This was the man who put a blanket on you if you fell asleep reading, even giving a kiss to your crown. This was the man who treated you like you were his own daughter, when in reality, you never were. And he never outwardly called you his daughter, either. You didn’t know why you never saw him as a father figure, but rather, you called him a friend. A really good friend. A friend you’d fallen stupidly in love with over the course of six months.
Toji snapped his fingers in front of your face. You blinked out of the whirlpool of your thoughts. “Where’d you go?”
“To you.”
He lifted a brow. “To me?”
Now or never, Y/N. Now or fucking never.
You knelt down and moved closer, settling yourself onto his lap. His eyes widened momentarily at your boldness. “Toji, I like you. Hell, I love you. I love every version of the man you’ve been in my life. I know—I know you love me, too. Probably not in the way I want you to, but a girl can hope.” Your words were directed at the dog tag hanging from his neck as you gently placed your hands on his chest. “I did come here to scold you for not attending my graduation, but I also wanted to . . . I wanted to be with you. In more ways than one.”
“You don’t know what you’re talk—”
“I do,” you stated firmly. Your lashes lifted and found his narrowed scrutiny. Unconsciously, his hands rested on your waist, molding to your curves. “I’ve known for a while now. It didn’t click in until you moved out. I swear Toji, it was like I couldn’t breathe without you.”
“Baby . . . ”
“I want you,” you confessed in a hushed tone, your fingers tracing the lines of his broad shoulders, then up to the sturdy column of his neck where his pulsing veins hinted at his emotions. “I know I seem desperate, but I don’t care. You’re not hers anymore. You were never hers.”
“Y/N—”
“Please, Toji. Please, just touch me.” You tilted your head to plant a tender kiss on the sharp angle of his jawline. His faint stubble grazed against your lips as you continued to pepper kisses, stopping just short of his mouth. “Forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest, they say.”
Toji tightly shut his eyes and took slow breaths through his nose, his inner turmoil evident in the way his head moved back and forth. Your lips traced gentle paths around his face, savoring the closeness and the rush of emotions it brought. Even if he rejected you, you would find solace in knowing you had expressed your love for the man who was once your stepfather. This night might mark the end of your time together, but it also freed you from the burden of hiding your feelings..
“Baby,” Toji whispered, gently caressing your cheek as he drew you closer. “You sure you want this?”
“Yes.”
“You know how risky this is, kid. We can’t just ignore the consequences.”
“I know, Toji.” You leaned closer, your breath mingling with his. “But I can’t ignore how I feel about you either. I want this. I want you. I want all of you. You can do whatever you want to me. I promise I can take it.”
Toji licked his lips and ran his fingers through his hair. “Fuck. Okay. Your mom—”
“She won’t know. I’m planning on moving out soon.” You dragged your hand up and down his soft, bare chest. “I should’ve moved out with you.”
Toji took your hand in his and pressed a tender kiss to the center of your palm. “I don’t think I have any condoms on me.”
“I’m on the pill.”
His eyes narrowed on you. “You’ve been fucking around? Does your mom know?”
“Hey, I had to have a little fun. Gain a little experience for this inevitable night.” Your infectious smile rubbed off on him and he enveloped you in his arms.
“I fuck hard.”
“Good.”
“Last chance.”
“Nope.”
Toji rose on his feet, supporting your bottom with his hands as he took you to his bedroom. He laid you down on his bed, the soft mattress absorbing the weight with a slight bounce. “Fucking knew you had a little crush on me.” He clambered onto your body and held your jaw with his hand. “Tell me, sweetheart, did you touch yourself thinking of me?”
“Every single night. Whether it’s in the shower or my bedroom,” you replied, feigning a pout and raising your hand. “I’m starting to think I’ve developed carpal tunnel from all of it.”
Toji laughed, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face with his calloused fingers. But as his laughter faded into a knowing smirk, his next words sent a jolt through you, leaving your legs weak and your heart racing. “Yeah. Me, too.”
“Really?”
He answered by colliding his lips against yours. It was a brutal kiss. Pain and pleasure mingled together in a heated embrace. His tongue shoved deep into your mouth, exploring the source of your daring words.
Pulling away momentarily, he squeezed your cheeks and sucked on your tongue like it was a delicious treat. “Gonna spit in your mouth.”
“Mm-hmm.”
Toji’s cheeks sucked in as he gathered his spit and spat it right onto your tongue. “Swallow.”
You did, moaning as his warm saliva traveled down your throat. “You taste minty.”
“I was just about to crash before your demanding ass showed up,” he teased.
“Well, you should thank me then.” You planted a quick kiss on his nose.
Toji leaned in and kissed you deeply, tugging on your bottom lip and trailing his moist lips down to your neck. “You smell so good, baby.”
“I’m wearing the perfume you bought me.”
“You better fucking be. Do you know how much I get off on spoiling you?” His teeth bit your delicate flesh and pulled, making you whimper from the stinging pain. He sucked and bit on different areas of your neck, marking you with his love bites. He then helped you out of the dress and pressed you back on the mattress. “Knew you weren’t wearing a bra.”
“No,” you said sarcastically.
“Yeah,” he said, missing the teasing in your voice, “your nipples were in my face when we were talking.” He rounded his tongue around your areola. Gathering your breasts in both hands, Toji switched between suckling at your nipples, biting the sensitive bud that sent jerks in your body, and licking the burning pain. “I saw you undressing once. You know that?”
You lifted a brow. “Uh, when?” And why didn't he do anything about it?
“You left your bedroom a bit open. I came to call you for dinner and instead feasted on the sight of your perky ass and these sexy tits.” He left your nipples numb and discolored from his teeth’s abuse. “You think you’re the only one who got off in that house? No, baby. Not at all. I was in the room right next to you, jerking off to your voice, or your smell.” This time, he kissed you gently and then each of your shoulders. “I had it worse. I had it so much worse.”
“Toji . . . ”
“But you’re here now, and so am I. I’m not fucking leaving. You got that? You’re mine. You’ve always been mine.”
“Yours,” you whispered. “God, Toji, I’m yours. I’m yours.”
Toji removed his sweatpants and boxers, giving you a glorious display of his long, thick cock, corded with veins, sprouted up and proud. You had him like that, and so you gave yourself a mental pat on the back. “Like what you see?”
“Yes,” you said, chuckling in disbelief at the anatomy of him. A surge of confidence washed over you. You slipped off your panties and spread out your legs, shaking your hair back from your face. “Like what you see?”
Toji gleamed at the wetness pooled between your legs, soaking his sheets underneath, sticky and hot. Something feral rattled inside him. He gripped your knees and pried them farther apart, sinking in between.
“Oh, fuck, fuck! Toji—ah!” Your back arched in ecstasy, fingers gripping his scalp as he ruthlessly ate you out. His large palm held your hips in place, nibbling and sucking at your quivering, swollen clit. “Toji, yes, yes, fuck. Right there. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
You grinded against him with full power, pushing your pussy closer to his mouth. He drank your leaking juices, drove his skilled tongue into your tight entrance, and discovered the sweet, cry-worthy spots inside you.
Soon, he replaced his tongue with three fingers, plunging them deep inside you with a rough and unrelenting pace that sent shivers down your spine. His deep growls were the icing on top.
Tears streamed down your cheeks as the bed creaked beneath you. He was exorcising your damn soul out of your body with his holy tongue and his blessed fingers.
“Ah!” You came down like a fucking waterfall and Toji stood with an open mouth, drinking in your essence, lapping at your cunt like a starved dog, cleaning you as best as he could.
You gasped for air, clutching your chest as you coughed or laughed or wheezed—hard to tell which. You felt weightless, incredibly sore, teetering on the edge of passing out.
“Toji . . . am I dead?”
His laughter echoed nearby, then drew nearer until his face came into focus through your haze. “Your pussy tastes just as delicious as your mouth, baby.”
He kissed you and gave you a hint of your release. Toji was a moaner—a loud one—as he sucked on your tongue, pulling it into his mouth. Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull as he spit onto your tongue again, and ran his own coarse one over your palette.
You closed your mouth and pushed him back by his shoulders. “Let me touch you.”
“Yeah? You want to suck me off, too?”
“Yes, fuck. Please, Toji. Please let me suck your cock.” Your begging made him grunt as he got up on his knees. He moved closer, placing them firmly beside your hips. You sat up against the headboard, gripping his warm, aroused cock, while he entwined your hair around his hand, gaining control over your movements.
You looked up at his smirk and kissed his moist tip, savoring the salty taste. Goosebumps formed on your skin at the idea of taking him deeper into your mouth. It would definitely challenge your gag reflex, but if this was going to be a regular thing, you needed to practice.
“Part your lips for me, kid. Nice and wide. That’s it.”
“Yes, Daddy.” You winked at Toji’s alarmed expression. Oh, how you loved catching him off-guard by acting out of character. “You got a daddy kink, Toji?” You brushed your lips from the base to the head, swirling your tongue around the rim. “Since you love calling me kid, maybe I should start calling you daddy. Isn’t that what you were?”
“You got a dirty mouth on you, kid.”
“Learned it from my daddy.”
Toji hissed through his teeth as you nibbled his tip. “Not dirty enough.” He gripped his length and forced it past your lips. Your nails plunged into his hips, gagging and shaking as he sunk past your uvula. “About time I fucked your smartass mouth with my cock, baby. Be a good girl and don’t tap out until I’ve come down your throat.”
You closed your eyes briefly, gathering your resolve before meeting his gaze again with a playful glint. You weren’t entirely sure where this was going, but you were determined not to back down now. So, with a mischievous wink, you silently accepted the challenge.
Toji thrusted his hips back and forth, shoving his girth in and out without giving you space to breathe.
“That’s it, baby. That’s it. Fuck, you’re so good at sucking your daddy’s cock,” he groaned, his hands gently gripping your hair or caressing your cheek in a way that contrasted sharply with his dominant actions.
“My pretty whore.”
Thrust.
“My gorgeous girl.”
Thrust.
“You belong to me, baby.”
Thrust, thrust, thrust.
He was a complete monster with you.
Your face pressed against his pelvis, the brush of his happy trail tickling your nose. You knew from experience that most men came quicker if you fondled their balls. You squeezed his heavy, swollen sacs, making him hiss and violate your throat.
Toji couldn’t hold back. His release came with a roar, numbing your scalp from how tightly he was pulling on it. The thin ropes of his release and your saliva formed as he pulled out. You swallowed whatever was left around your mouth. To please him further, as if assaulting your throat wasn’t enough, you lapped at his tip like a devoted kitten. “You’re so good to me, baby.”
That’s all you wanted to hear.
“Turn around,” he commanded, and without hesitation, you dropped to your knees, arching your back to present yourself to him. “What a sight.” His hand glided over your left ass cheek tenderly before delivering a firm smack that made you jolt forward. Toji mirrored the action on your right cheek, preparing you while coating the tip of his cock with slickness from your own arousal. “Gonna put it in now, sweetheart.”
“Finally, Jesus.”
Toji spanked your ass which only elicited a giggle out of you. “Let’s see if you’ll be laughing soon, baby.”
He pushed into you in one-quick go.
You cried out and grabbed the top of the headboard with your sweaty palms. He pulled out just to the hilt then drove back in. The air smelled like your sweat and perfume and sex. Every nerve in your body was alive, your heart pounding fiercely as if trying to escape your chest. Your face flushed with heat, your blood singing with desire.
You moaned and cried and screamed his name, driving him to complete madness with the word “Daddy.” You begged him to go faster, push harder, to have you sore for weeks so you didn’t have to get out of his bed, out of his arms, out of his home. You wanted this to be your home.
Toji spanked your ass repeatedly, skin slapping against skin, palming the back of your head so that your face was crushed on his pillow. It smelled like firewood. Smelled like him. You wanted to steal it, take it home, sleep with it, ride it while whispering his name.
You both came together.
Toji’s hot seed filled your stretched hole. He withdrew slowly, a teasing sensation that left you craving more. With deft fingers, he ensured not a drop was wasted.
You collapsed onto your stomach, catching your breath before summoning the strength to turn and face him.
He exhaled heavily, laying beside you “Fuck, that was . . .”
“Yeah.”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Best yeah.” You draped yourself onto his chest and kissed his chin. He massaged his fingers through your throbbing scalp, the other hand caressing your numb, bruised ass.
Toji twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “Does this make-up for missing your graduation?”
You flicked his forehead. “I haven’t forgiven you for that.”
“Maybe I should miss more of your events if this is the reward I’m gonna get.”
You scowled. “I dare you to repeat that again.”
Toji ironed out your scowl with his thumb. You kissed the pad of his rough finger, twice. “My cards are on the table for you, sweetheart.”
Your lips met his, whispering, “I folded a while ago, Daddy.”
“Fuck,” he breathed out. With a swift motion, he flipped you onto your back, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “Round two, kid.”
#forgive me God for i have sinned#zaraswriting#jjk x y/n#toji smut#toji x you#toji x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro smut#toji x reader smut#toji fushiguro x reader smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#jjk toji x reader#jjk toji smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#tw smut#tw sex mention#fem reader#jjk fluff#toji fluff#jujutsu toji#fushiguro toji x reader#toji x y/n#toji fushiguro fluff#toji fushiguro x y/n#fushiguro toji#jujutsu kaisen toji#jujutsu kaisen
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Popsicle Love
Summary: Reader and Spencer are at a ridiculously hot precinct station, getting on each other's nerves arguing. Reader realizes she can get back at him, using a certain sweet treat.
Prompt: Spencer can't deal with how much Reader loves popsicles/ice cream cones
Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
Category: Smut
Content Warning: Reader POV, rough sex, hair-pulling, dom!Spencer, coworker relationship, oral sex (m receiving), fingering (f receiving) , dirty talk, heavy making-out, unprotected penetrative sex, bathroom sex, hate-fucking, pure smut
Word Count: 3.2k
“It is too fucking hot for this” was my first thought as he began talking to me. Fuck Spencer Reid, because he was the who decided that today, in the sweltering Georgia heat, was the day he would annoy the ever-loving shit out of me.
“You’re going about this all wrong!” Spencer said, rolling his eyes. His sleeves were pulled up, and there was anger in his eyes. I crossed my legs, feeling my skirt ride up but I honestly couldn’t care less. It was scorching, and I was determined to not lose this argument to Reid. I let out a breath of air, meeting him with my own annoyed, exasperated expression.
“Reid, you’re being absolutely childish right now.” I retorted. “Sort through the paperwork first, then analyze it! Not everyone wants to do things the way you insist on doing them!” I say, furrowing my brows.
“Not everyone can.” He says, cockily, a smirk gracing his lips. That motherfucker.
I was about to get up and honestly hit him square in the jaw, half from my delusion in the heat, and half from how fucking smug he sounded. I wanted to knock that smirk off his face, and maybe ruin that pretty smile of his in the process, just as an added bonus.
Thankfully, before I could do anything rash that would definitely result in me losing my job, one of the officers of the station quickly came to interrupt us.
“Hey, one of the officers brought in popsicles. If any of y’all would like any, they’re in the breakroom.” She said, turning away. Thank God for Southern hospitality, I suppose.
I sighed, getting up from my spot. Spencer and I clearly weren’t getting anywhere when it came to our disagreements, and that’s how it was, and how it would remain to be. The man was a pain-in-the-fucking ass, and it was an honest shame, considering the fact he was actually pretty hot, especially when his mouth wasn’t moving.
Spencer walked ahead of me, the idea of something to cool him down enticing him just as much as it did me. We reached the breakroom and he opened the freezer, taking out the box of popsicles, and looking into it. He pulled out two, presumably one for me, and one for him.
“Blue or red?” He says, holding out the brightly colored packages, offering me a choice of one.
“Red.” I say, reaching over with no hesitation and grabbing the red-colored packaging in his hand. “Duh.” I added, starting to unwrap the treat. “It’s the best flavor.”
He scoffed a little, opening up his own, blue package, and I rolled my eyes at the sound.
“What, are you going to argue with me about my choices in popsicle flavor too now?” I say, with a disbelieving tone.
“No, it’s nothing,” He says, shrugging, with that same, shit-eating, self-satisfied grin.
God, I hated him.
I gave a deep exhale through my nose, forcing myself to calm down. I decided it’d be for the best if I walked out, left him here alone to avoid another fight. He called out before I could even walk two steps.
“You have to eat here.” He said, taking licks at his popsicle. “The officers- they’re old fashioned. I don’t know.” He adds, “If you wanna be yelled at though, be my guest.”
I grumbled internally at that, but I knew he was right. I didn’t want to be yelled at.
I took my place, leaning against a table that had been placed in the breakroom and taking my own popsicle out of the packaging, beginning to eat it. I sighed happily as I felt the taste settle on my tongue, the coolness blooming throughout my mouth. I began by licking the sides before taking it in my mouth. I suckled for a minute, and I could feel it already melting down my fingers a bit, due to the heat in the station. I released the popsicle in my mouth with a pop, before going to lick the sticky residue off my fingers. It was a little childish, sure, but it was hot and it wasn’t like anyone was watching me. I continued this cycle, softly sucking at the popsicle and wrapping my tongue around it until I heard what sounded like ... a whimper from across the room? I let my eyes drift up, noticing a seemingly flustered Spencer in the corner of my eye. He leaned away from me, crossing his legs. I knitted my brows, before putting the pieces together, realizing what had happened.
He was a guy, after all. And I suppose the way I was eating my popsicle could come off as suggestive, but come on! How else was I meant to eat it? And armed with the knowledge that my innocent action was enough to provoke him, I decided a little more intent in my movement couldn’t hurt.
I began to take the popsicle a little more vigorously, bobbing my head a bit. My lips wrapped around the treat, and I could feel Spencer’s eyes shamelessly on me and internally grinned. Good. He had annoyed me all day, and the idea of him dealing with a hard-on with no way to relieve himself was definitely karmic justice in my eyes. I closed my eyes, savoring the taste, but also in the way I could feel Spencer shifting around, trying to hide what seemed like a fast-growing erection. When I hollowed out my cheeks, and swirled my tongue around the sweetness in my mouth, I could hear a sound from the back of his throat escaping his lips. I let the popsicle out of my mouth, and in that moment, a melted chunk seemed to fall off, landing itself on my chest. I hissed, feeling the coldness of the tacky liquid running down my bare skin.
“Shit.” I said, trying to flick off the liquid off my hands and realizing I’d need to clean myself up. I dropped the remainder of the popsicle in the trash, not bothering to look back, before I walked over to the bathroom. I let out a breath of air as I opened the door to the precinct bathroom, looking at my chest and sighing, grabbing a handful of paper towels to run under the sink to wash myself with.
Before I could do that though, I heard the door swing open, and saw through the mirror it was none other than Spencer Reid. I crossed my arms, putting my back to the counter of the sink as I turned around to look him up and down.
“What are you doing here?” I remarked, with a displeased tone.
He looked absolutely furious, and there was a slight part of me that was excited, knowing I could rile him up like this. He was breathing heavily, and moving closer to me, trapping me in between the counter and his body, and what felt like a very noticeable hardness pressing against my thigh.
“The better question is, what the fuck are you doing?” He asked, his tone low and menacing.
I rolled my eyes, before feigning a look of innocence, making my eyes wide. “What do you mean, Spencer?”
“You know exactly what I mean.” He responds, gripping a piece of hair at the back of my skull and pulling slightly, forcing me to bare my neck to him. “Where do you get off doing something like that to me, huh?” He murmurs, leaning closer and letting his lips brush over the shell of my ear.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I retorted hastily, but I could hear the shakiness in my voice. The way he was speaking, the pull he had on my hair- it thrilled me, and contributed to a growing heat between my legs.
He pushed himself further and further against me, and I could feel his erection against my thigh even more so than before, and felt my stomach flutter at the feeling. My jaw dropped a bit, letting out a soft sigh, sensitive to the sensation.
“Oh is that right?” Spencer replies, nodding as he spoke a little cruelly. “You like acting like this? Like a goddamn slut?” He grunts out. He twists and pulls my hair a little more, eliciting a soft moan from my lips.
“You like it when I pull on your pretty hair like that?” He said, snarking the words at me. “Like how wet I make you?” He whispered, venom in his voice.
Without warning, he placed his fingers at the growing wet patch at my underwear, roughly pushing it aside before starting to rub harsh, tight circles around my clit. I nearly lost my mind at the sensation, nearly doubling over with pleasure.
I whimpered softly, and I could feel his smirk as he started to kiss up and down my neck. “So wet for me, mm?” He says, starting to move his fingers faster over my swollen clit. “I’ve barely touched you. You’re fucking needy for me, yeah?”
I groaned, not processing enough of what he was saying to warrant a response. My brain was foggy from how good he was making me feel. I tried to not think about the fact that this was Spencer, the Spencer who’d annoyed me from the moment I’d joined the BAU. The Spencer I despised, the one I was supposed to hate- but here was, making me orgasm in a precinct bathroom with his fingers alone.
He rubbed a bit faster, before thrusting two fingers into my needy cunt. I moaned again, louder, and he responded by burying his fingers even deeper into my core, pumping harshly. I could feel the room spinning, gripping onto the counter behind me to stabilize me as my orgasm began to approach me rapidly. He watched me intently, his gaze hot and intense before smirking. “Come for me. Come all over my fingers, (Y/N).” He whispered.
I did, nearly on command, convulsing against him as I felt myself clench around his long, slender digits, my moans reverberating around the small space.
He withdrew his fingers suddenly, leaving me painfully empty before he began to grab my face roughly, forcing me to look at him.
“Say that you want this, bitch.” He whispers harshly, pulling my hair and eliciting yet another moan from me as he pushed me up against the counter.
“Spencer..” I murmured, feeling my knees go a bit weak at how roughly he was manhandling me. He spun our positions around, and I felt him using the grip on my hair to push me down to my knees.
“Say it!” He said, a little more firmly now. “I need to hear you say it.”
I felt the desperation in his tone, weakly looking up at him from this angle before I nodded quickly.
“I want you. I want this.” I wailed, arousal coursing through my veins. I no longer cared about the humiliation of letting him use me like this. I wanted to chase this feeling forever, wanted to be at his mercy for as long as he wanted, as long as he could continue to make me feel this good.
I felt him groan above me, before he pulled me closer to his bulge, raising an eyebrow. He looked absolutely wild from here, sweat dripping down from his brow, and sleeves pushed up. He breathed heavily, his chest heaving up and down.
“Go on then. This is what you wanted, wasn’t it?” He mocked, but I could tell his voice was strained with the exact same need I was feeling in the moment.
I gave no protest, using my deft fingers to quickly undo his slacks, pulling them down along with his boxers, watching his heavy cock bob in the air for a moment, before looking up at him, my jaw slightly agape.
Was this really happening?
He nodded, as if to give me an okay, and I didn’t need any more encouragement than that. I swirled my tongue around his tip, watching in fascination as I heard a groan from him, his head falling back as he moaned. “Fuck, (Y/N). Just like that.”
I grew bolder with his praise. I began to take more of him in my mouth, using my hands where my tongue wouldn’t reach. I gripped and worked his base, while suckling on what my mouth could reach. As I got used to the intrusion in my mouth, I moved down slowly, eventually taking the whole of him. He moaned loudly at this, and gripped my hair tighter, starting to move me up and down his cock. I relaxed the muscles in my mouth, letting him use me as he pleased. I watched from the lower angle the best I could, the sight of him coming undone at my mouth absolutely gorgeous. I could feel the tears pooling in the corner of my eyes, the saliva dripping down from my mouth and covering my chest. I wanted to watch him fall apart, to be at my mercy just as much as I was at his.
He moaned at the feeling, and I could feel myself get wetter at the sound. “Oh fuck. You feel so fucking good.” He groaned out, before grabbing my hair yet again, and holding my head in place. He started to fuck my throat roughly, and the tears began to flow a little more rapidly, feeling the pooling of saliva down my chin as I felt him hit the back of my throat.
“You like this, huh?” He teased from above, between pants and sighs. “Wanted me all riled up, so we could do this, right?”
I nodded desperately, incoherent begs and whines coming from my mouth before he pulled me off with a tug. I felt delightfully dirty, as he forced me up again and kissed me roughly. I barely registered him turning us around in my lustful stupor, bending me mercilessly against the sink and lifting up my skirt, pulling my underwear down in a clean swoop. I could feel him squeezing the fat of my hips and moaned at the way he controlled me so easily, to which he let out a smug chuckle.
He gripped my hair again, pulling my head up and forcing me to look at myself. We looked sinful, his cock pressing against my wet folds, teasing me.
“See that? You look like a fucking whore.” He snarled, breathing heavily.
I wasn’t going to let him win so easily. Even though I wanted the same things as him, I knew the more I teased him, the better I’d get from him. I raised an eyebrow and breathlessly murmured, “Are you going to stand there and look at me, or are you going to fuck me, Reid?”
He bared his teeth at me, thrusting into me roughly with no warning. “Oh, you wanna be fucked? Then take it.” He groaned, starting to buck his hips against me like a man possessed.
I moaned at the sudden feeling, letting my jaw drop fully to let out all my noises. I could feel the slaps of his skin against mine, and the smell of sex filling up the small space. His fingers gripped so tightly into my stomach I swear I could feel the bruises already blooming over my stomach. I let him fill me up, his thick cock passing through me roughly, over and over again.
“So fucking warm and wet. You feel..” He paused, moaning and jutting against me faster. “So fucking good.”
I could see the sweat dripping down his brow, and the way it collected down his neck. In this moment though, the only heat I could focus on was no longer the one around us, but the one that came from every brutal pass of his cock, creating a delicious burn I reveled in with every moment he stayed inside me. I moaned loudly, feeling myself get hotter and hotter with every second.
I watched through the mirror as he fucked me into the counter with no restraint, his head thrown back, eyes shut as he continued to use me, plowing into me from behind. I could feel my knees getting weaker, feeling his cock twitch inside of me as I arched my back to take more of him. He groaned at the sensation of him bottoming out, the rhythm of his hips becoming irregular as he continued to rut into me. I rolled my hips against him, hoping to spur on our impending releases. He thrust into me once or twice , until I felt him come with a loud moan, a familiar warmth pooling into my deepest point, but even then his hips didn't still. He fucked his own arousal into me, and I could feel my orgasm rapidly approaching, his lazy thrusts doing me in, and soon enough I was spasming over his cock, moaning loudly.
He pulled out of me, and my eyes fluttered shut at the sudden emptiness. I could feel his cum dripping down my leg, and his eyes watching in fascination as the mixture of both of our releases leaked out of me. He pulled up my underwear, immediately soaking up the liquids, and I groaned at the feeling. He pulled me up, leaning me against the sink.
I watched as he panted against the sink, and I swear, I would’ve fallen over without his steady grip on my hips. He and I were both flushed, my hair absolutely ruined from how hard he’d been pulling it, my tear-stained face still contorted in an expression of pleasure as we both recovered from the highs of our orgasms.
“Did I hurt you?” He asks, in between his breaths, looking genuinely concerned. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?”
I laughed a little bit at that, shaking my head. “You were the perfect amount of rough. Don’t worry.” I say, waving him off a little, assuring him that I got just as much out of this as he did.
As he tucked himself back into his pants, he grinned at me for seemingly no reason. I met his eyes with a confused expression, raising an eyebrow, pressing my lips together. “What are you grinning about?” I ask, trying to fix my hair as I look at him.
He walked over to me, turning me to face the mirror. I felt his chest against my back, and one of his large hands came to wrap themselves around me, before he ghosted a finger over my chest and whispered against my ear. “You still have some of that goddamn popsicle on you.” He says, trying not to laugh.
I rolled my eyes, chuckling a bit as I remembered the entire reason he’d been provoked to do this, and went to go finally wipe off the sticky residue once and for all. “Oh yeah. Popsicle.” I said, teasingly.
“Never do that again.” He says, starting to move away from me as he worked on making himself presentable enough to leave the bathroom with me.
I paused, turning around to look at him, still appearing completely fucked out and dazed as I smirked a bit. “If it gets you to fuck me like that? No promises.”
wow! a short fic from me?! crazy!! i wanted to try my hand at writing something smutty, but short. this was specifically written for @imagining-in-the-margins summer sunshine challenge, so go check that out :3 thank you for any likes, reblogs or comments. <3 i'm eternally thankful
#spencer reid#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid smut#spencer reid imagine#criminal minds smut#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds#criminal minds self insert#spencer reid self insert#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#smut#writing prompt#writing challenge#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fanfiction#mentioningmargins
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Breaking Boundaries
“Oh wow! Look at him! He’s gorgeous!” Sam shouted over the deafteningly loud music of the club.
Craig looked over, seeing yet another short, skinny, well-groomed twenty year old dancing away with a couple of other guys. He had no butt on him whatsoever, with narrow shoulders and thin arms; not Craig’s type in the slightest. Not that he would ever say that to his housemates. As close as they all were, he wasn’t so sure that Sam and Wes were ready to hear that not everyone found these boring little twinks so compelling. And they certainly weren’t ready to know that, at twenty years old, Craig was actually still a virgin.
“He’s pretty,” Craig nodded, pretending to be in agreement. “You should go dance with him.”
“I actually think you should go and ask him yourself,” Sam shot back, prodding Craig in the side to get up. “He keeps looking over this way, right in your direction.”
Craig squirmed slightly. He had noticed the guy checking him out, but had deliberately kept it to himself so that he wasn’t forced to get up and dance with yet another person that Sam and Wes thought was hot. “I’m really not…” he protested, despite being pulled to his feet.
“Don’t be so boring!” Wes cried, keen to get them all paired off that evening now that one of his regular fuck buddies had just entered the club and was smiling suggestively across the room at him.
“Alright, alright!” Craig relented, seeing that the boys were not going to let this go. “I’ll just get us some more drinks first,” he explained, using the tactic that usually got him out of situations such as these. Everything moved so fast in clubs like these, apart from the line of people waiting to be served.
Craig’s hypothesis was not wrong. He returned from the bar with three shots, seeing that Wes was nowhere to be seen. As was his usual habit, once Wes had found someone to hook up with, he didn’t bother with the simple courtesy of saying goodbye. Likewise, Sam was up on his feet, dancing with someone in the corner. With their table abandoned, it had been acquired by a new group of people who had just come in.
Downing one shot to save carrying them all, Craig made his way over to the dancefloor to check in with Sam. There, he was stopped by security, not allowing him to take the shots onto the dancefloor. And so, Craig stood, like a stereotypical third wheel, watching as Sam’s flirtatious dancing led to dirty grinding and the inevitable, passionate kissing. Then, out of the club the pair of them went; most likely back to the house for a night of fun. Yet again, Craig had been abandoned.
Sighing in frustration, Craig downed the two shots, one after the other. As nice as it was to find two other college students who were freshly out of the closet; moving in with them for his third year had hardly been the dream that he had pictured in his head all summer. He just wasn’t like them in so many ways. His brain was simply wired differently. The guys they chased just didn’t interest him in the slightest, and the endless quests to get laid were exhausting. Sam, who had a thing for sex in the shower, would probably be running all their hot water as soon as he got his new lover home; running up the energy bills for all of them, yet again.
Sometimes Craig felt he was ten years older than he actually was. Why did it need to be so damn noisy in here? He could feel the bass thumping through his body as the three shots and many previous drinks made his head feel light and ever so slightly dizzy. There was that skinny guy, making eyes at him again as he danced only a few feet away; there for the taking if Craig would only step forward and introduce himself as he had promised the boys he would.
But Craig was alone here now. He didn’t need to please Sam or Wes, given that the pair of them were back at home, getting down and dirty. He turned to leave the dancing area, stumbling carelessly straight into what could only be described as a wall of man; his face falling into a large chest and his body bending slightly over a large protrusive stomach; warm and comforting.
“I’m so sorry!” he shouted, backing up to get a better look at the man he had just bumped into.
What stood before Craig was the most handsome guy he had ever seen. Tall, stocky and marvellously overweight. He had a broad, handsome face, with a delicious double chin and large cheeks. He wore a tight, fitted and super casual short-sleeved t-shirt that hid nothing of his giant ball gut underneath it. His arms were strong, his lightly tattooed forearms bigger than any Craig had ever seen, and his hands big and plump. Unusual for this venue, the man wore relaxed sweatpants that clung to his thick thighs and groin. And, as every sense flared with arousal, Craig picked up the unmistable musky scent of what he considered to be pure masculinity.
“Careful!” the guy replied with his deep, slightly gruff voice, taking his eyes on a tour of Craig’s body in return, and nodding with approval.
The two of them finally walked by each other, with the big man crossing the dancefloor to stand at the opposite wall and watch all the guys dancing away. He looked so out of place, his shape, his clothing, his sheer size; like a straight guy who had just got off the couch after an afternoon of beers and watching football. In Craig’s head, he could just imagine the comments that would spew from his housemate’s mouths if they saw him: taking aim at his large gut, poor dress sense and overall slob-like appearance. As it was, Craig felt nothing but excitement and curiosity as the loud music battered its way into his head and the sticky heat of the club became almost uncomfortable. Deciding he needed another drink, he snuck off to the bar, returning to see the big guy standing in exactly the same spot.
Like slabs of meat on a tray, the large man was surveying all of the young twenty-somethings on the dancefloor. His eyes flicked up towards Craig, making Craig’s eyes drop to the floor in embarrassment. Then the cycle started all over again. If Sam and Wes had still been there, Criag would never have allowed himself to indulge in the fascination he felt towards this man as he continued to watch from afar. The next time their eyes met, Craig forced himself to hold it for at least a short while, feeling a buzz of pure adrenaline for each microsecond that he managed to keep holding on. Then the ritual started all over again; eyes looking across the dancefloor until they met once more. This time, Craig was emboldened, holding the guy’s gaze and feeling his arousal growing for each second that he did so. One… two… three seconds. It was all Craig could manage as his hardness awoke and stretched itself in his groin. However, now Craig could tell that the guy was still staring at him, even as his own eyes tried to avoid looking in his direction. The man’s gaze was fixed, locking onto him like prey. Then, like a giant striding across the dancefloor, Craig saw the big man heading straight for him.
“Like what you see?” the big man grinned, suddenly standing in front of Craig and seeming larger than ever.
Craig’s heart was beating too fast. Without the biggest of voices, he always struggled to make himself heard in the deafening club. What would he even say if he could? Instead, he looked around, seeing that no one else was watching them, and then allowed his head to nod very gently.
The big man stepped closer, taking Craig’s drink and putting it gently on the side. Then he came in towards him with large hands that cupped Craig’s face. Their lips touched and tongues slid into action. Craig felt himself being pushed up against the wall, with the monstrous guy seemingly inflating his giant stomach out as large as it would go to keep Craig pinned to the wall. It was, without a single doubt, the most erotic moment of Craig’s life.
Craig knew that he would never have felt comfortable getting to know a guy so big and large in the club had Wes and Sam still been there. Rick was everything he had ever secretly wanted, as the pair of them shouted down each other’s ears, trying to make conversation in the deafeningly loud club. There wasn’t long left of the evening and both of them knew they didn’t want their time together to end, heading straight back to Craig’s place. Just as Craig had anticipated, the bathroom was soaking from Sam’s long, horny shower session and moans of pleasure were still sounding from both his housemates’ rooms.
Rick lay back on Craig’s bed, laughing at how small it was. Not being quite a full double bed, the big man absolutely dwarfed it in whatever direction he tried to lay. The sight gave Craig pure joy and he began undressing himself for the large man, letting him see exactly how aroused he was by him. Rick took the lead as it came time to get dirty, which Craig was more than grateful for. For the first time ever, he was having his butt lubricated up, ready to be taken, lying on his side as Rick began; simultaneously taking Craig’s erection into his large hand and gently bringing them both to a climax at exactly the same time. For his first experience of sex, Craig could not have wished for anything better.
A few hours later, the pair of them woke up together; Rick’s large hands cupping Craig’s small glutes and pulling him into him. They made out and spoke at length about how much they had enjoyed themselves the previous evening, settling back into another round of making each other climax.
“Do you want to come with me to get some breakfast?” Rick asked; his giant stomach rumbling as he pulled his hastily discarded underwear back on.
“I don’t think we have much in,” Craig replied.
“No. Not here,” Rick chuckled. “Let me take you out for some breakfast.”
Craig felt a little guilty at the idea of Rick paying to take him out. He’d always liked to pay his own way, never accepting drinks from guys who tried to flirt with him in bars. He attempted to explain this to Rick, but was quickly put at ease. Earlier that morning, Rick had spoken about how he worked in highway maintenance; committing to long shifts at sometimes very unsociable hours, in return for a pleasing salary. “I want to treat you,” he smiled. “I had a great time last night. Won’t you let me say thank you?”
Twenty minutes later, Craig found himself in a very greasy looking cafe that Rick seemed to know very well. They sat at a table and a server came straight over, pouring coffee for the pair of them.
“Two Mega Breakfasts please, Rachel,” Rick stated, as Craig hesitantly went to pick up the sticky-looking laminated menu.
“A Mega Breakfast?” Craig asked after she left. “That sounds pretty daunting.”
Rick chuckled. “You’ll manage it. You’re a college boy. You need feeding up. Plus, anything you can’t eat, I’ll finish for you,” he smiled greedily.
The breakfast meal, once it arrived, was every bit as massive as Craig had pictured in his head. Rick’s eyes had lit up, his mouth salivating, and he began consuming it, stacking sausages and egg onto one of the several rounds of toast; devouring it with the expertise of a man who had taken it on many times before.
“That’s not a bad effort, for a first attempt,” Rick nodded twenty minutes later, seeing that Craig had politely cleared at least half of the giant meal away. “You’ll know what to expect next time.”
Craig rubbed his achingly full stomach. He couldn’t imagine ever wanting another piece of bacon or fried toast again, let alone coming here for a giant breakfast in the future. He watched with relief as Rick switched their plates around and the big man began dutifully clearing the rest of Craig’s meal away. What was it about a big man gorging himself that was so damn sexy to watch?
“I would quite like to do this again sometime,” Rick smiled, kissing Craig goodbye as they parked up outside his house once more. “Maybe you could let me take you out for something to eat more often?”
Craig nodded, excited by the idea of dating Rick. He accepted another kiss and felt Rick’s hand slip from cupping his face, down towards his small, tightly packed stomach. Then, tearing himself away, up Craig got; crossing the street and waving one last time before heading inside.
“Who the fuck was that?” Wes asked as soon as Craig was infront of him. He shouted towards Sam in the kitchen. “I just caught Craig making out with some fat guy in a car across the street,” he explained.
“A fat guy?” Sam asked, immediately disgusted by the idea. “Was that who I heard pouding around in the bathroom this morning? Did you hook up with a fatty?”
“I only saw him inside his truck, but the guy looked pretty massive to me,” Wes continued. “He looked like he had tits and a massive double chin!”
“That’s gross!” Sam winced. “What the hell were you doing with that?”
“His name’s Rick,” Craig shot back, emboldened by the amazing time he had had with a guy who epitomised his type. “We’re going to be dating.”
“Why?” Wes asked. “Why would you settle for a fat guy? You’re hot. You could have someone much better. If we weren’t housemates, I’d probably have fucked you myself by now.”
Sam nodded in agreement. “Same,” he mumbled, looking Craig up and down.
Craig huffed in irritation and walked away. Was that the boys’ idea of a compliment? He couldn’t think of anything worse than dating someone who was anything like either of them. There was only one person who put butterflies in his stomach, and Craig wasn’t about to be talked out of dating him.
“You’ve got to admit, those were the best doughnuts you’ve ever had, right?” Rick grinned as the pair of them headed back to his truck one evening.
“They tasted exactly like the ones we had in the place we went to last time,” Craig chuckled as he slipped inside the vehicle.
“No!” Rick laughed in disbelief that his boyfriend could say such a thing. “Those doughnuts are nothing like that place! You need educating about what real tasty food is like.”
Craig nodded, feeling his tight stomach. All their dates seemed to revolve around Rick demonstrating his vast knowledge of food places around the city; a world that Craig, with his limited income and lack of transport, had no means of exploring until now.
“Will Dumb and Dumber be there when we get back to your place?” Rick asked, firing the engine into life and turning out of the parking lot.
“I think so,” Craig nodded, knowing exactly how Rick felt about Wes and Sam. “I’m sure they will be a bit more pleasant with you today. They were both just a little stressed about their assignments and stuff last time,” he lied.
Rick chuckled in a way that suggested he did not believe the excuse in the slightest. “It’s alright. I know they don’t think I’m good enough for you because I’m fat. I’m fine with that.”
Craig looked across at his boyfriend; confusion etched upon his face. “How can you be okay with that?” he asked.
“Because, guys like Wes and Sam, they don’t stay slim forever. You only have to look at how much they drink and the foods they eat to know they won’t be twinks for much longer.”
“Really?” Craig asked, feeling surprisingly fascinated by Rick’s observations. “How can you be so sure?”
“Trust me,” he smirked. “I’m sure! Give it another few months and you’ll see exactly what I’m talking about.”
“Do you have some sort of sixth sense?” Craig joked.
Rick laughed. “I wish!” he nodded. “I mean, it’s not just those two. Your stomach is going to start pushing out into a little tummy soon. But that’s going to be all my fault… because I’m going to spoil you and pamper you so much!” he teased, rubbing Craig’s thigh as he drove.
Craig laughed, not knowing how serious his boyfriend was actually being. But, even so, Rick did seem oddly determined that they spend a lot of their time enjoying good food together. Perhaps Rick really wouldn’t mind if he gained a few pounds…
Over the next few weeks, Craig started to realise that what he found so unrelentingly attractive about Rick, was his impressive confidence in his own body. Even though he knew that Sam and Wes disapproved of Craig dating such a fat guy, Rick never failed to pull off his shirt whenever he arrived at the house; seeming to revel in their scorn. When he stayed over, he never got dressed to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, becoming Wes and Sam’s biggest complaint to date. That was, until Rick had left one weekend, deliberately planting a pair of his enormous underwear in the corner of the bathroom, like he had simply forgotten them. Wes had come in, holding them out in front of him with a large pair of barbecuing tongues that had seemed to have appeared from nowhere, and holding his nose as he dropped them in Craig’s room whilst giving him a thorough lecture about how his gross boyfriend was staying over far too much.
Wes wasn’t wrong; Rick was there at least four nights every week. He was comfortable in their house. However, although he had tried several times, Rick couldn’t really fit into their shower, meaning that there were a few nights when he and Craig would sleep over at Rick’s place instead, where the big man lived with his older cousin, Bob, in the suburbs.
Bob was much the same as Rick himself: large and round, with the same laid-back attitude to his body. It was obvious from the layout of the house that the pair of them cared little about the space being anything more than functional. Several take-out menus adorned the refrigerator door and not a single piece of fruit or vegetables lay inside. It was clear how much Rick looked up to his older cousin; rarely talking about his actual, overly-educated parents, except to say that they fell out some years ago when he refused to go to college. Bob had been the first black sheep in their family, and in moving in with him, Rick had become the second.
“Bob just gets me in a way that no one else in my family ever has. He got me my job when I left school and we’ve never had an argument, even after seven years of me staying here,” Rick explained as he introduced Craig to him for the first time.
It was clear to Craig that he was meeting someone very special to his boyfriend. The fact that Rick’s relationships with the rest of his family were so strained only mirrored Craig’s feelings about his own family. The pair of them could bond over their tales of uptight mothers and absent, but expectant fathers. It all felt so much easier when someone else understood these situations from a similar perspective.
However, with both Rick and his cousin, Bob, on the same shift pattern, it was rare that Craig stayed over with them. Rick always made the excuse that Bob was entertaining a variety of lady friends back at their place; a fact that would probably surprise many people, looking at his monstrous size.
“Smells good!” Rick sang as he arrived one Friday evening and smelt the aroma of Wes and Sam’s take out pizzas. “Are these from the place I told you about?” he asked them, pretending that they were all friends. “It’s so much cheaper than anywhere else. It just doesn’t keep so well the next day,” he explained, seeing that the boys were quitting with half a pizza remaining. “I’d try and finish that if you can. It won’t be any good once you need to reheat it,” he advised, winking at Craig and letting him know that he was only playing with them. It was something he had been doing for weeks now; introducing them both to beers and letting them try large amounts of the take-outs he had bought for himself when he stayed over. Despite not liking him, the boys had never failed to accept his generosity, just as Rick had secretly wanted.
This charade came as a relief to Craig. He’d felt his own pants starting to pinch a little more than usual in the last couple of weeks. Perhaps his little weight gain didn’t necessarily have to cause a relationship drama, like it would with most couples. Maybe people could just get used to seeing him in his sweatpants a little more whilst he sorted this out. Rick wasn’t exactly precious about his own weight and, indeed, he seemed to find the idea of Wes and Sam putting on a few pounds to be highly amusing.
The weeks rolled by. Craig sat himself down and pulled out his laptop. There were plenty of places for students to study on the college campus, but Craig had come to prefer this coffee house for its relative peace and quiet. He had been engrossed in his reading, not realising that he was being observed from a distance, until a tall, slightly pot-bellied man, a little older than him, suddenly came and stood in front of him.
“I’m really sorry to bother you,” the man explained, taking the spare seat on Craig's table. “I just recognised you from your boyfriend’s socials and I thought…” He seemed to sigh at this point, not appearing to know why he needed to speak to him, or how to explain exactly what it was he was trying to say. “It’s about Rick. I’m not sure you really know who he really is.”
Craig looked across at the guy with suspicion. What had he been doing, lurking on Rick’s social media and taking the time to commit Craig’s face to his memory? His stalker senses were spiking.
“I’m Geoff,” the guy explained, reaching his hand out to shake. “I’m certain that Rick has definitely not spoken to you about me.”
Craig shook his head, not committing to opening his mouth and engaging in a conversation he wasn’t sure he wanted to have.
“I was in high school with him. In fact, I was his boyfriend for quite some time as well,” Geoff continued. “We broke up about four years ago.”
“Then what are you doing still looking up his socials?” Craig asked, allowing a little of his suspicion and irritation to filter through his voice.
“I just didn’t want anyone else to go through what I went through with him,” Geoff replied. “Let me ask you, has Rick ever spoken to you about his high school days?”
“Not really,” Craig huffed, wondering what sort of relevance Rick’s time in high school would have on anything these days.
Geoff was busily finding a picture on his cell phone. “I bet he never told you that he used to look like this…” he mumbled, turning the screen around so that Craig could see. The face of the handsome eighteen year old in the picture was so familiar to him, but the body below it was so far beyond what Craig had anticipated. A shirtless, chiselled and muscular Rick smiled away from the cell phone. Six-packed and lean, Rick looked the epitome of athleticism and strength.
“That’s not real,” Craig shot back.
“I assure you, it is,” Geoff nodded, swiping through more and more pictures: Rick playing football, partying and posing with a much younger and slimmer Geoff, back when they were dating. “I’m guessing he just told you he’d always been a fat guy?”
Craig considered the question. He didn’t think Rick had said much about anything from his past; certainly not high school. And, besides, what would it even matter?
“This might shock you, but… Rick atually gained all the weight on purpose,” Geoff stated frankly. “I’m guessing you’ve met his cousin, Bob, as well? He did the same thing: a high school jock, but fattened himself huge. I was dating Rick at the time. He was fascinated by it, watching Bob stacking on the weight. He said that the pair of them understood each other in a way that no one else did.”
Craig nodded. Rick had said pretty much the same thing to him several times before.
“So when Rick left high school and moved in with Bob, he started to do exactly the same thing. I was away at college at the time and came back to find my boyfriend had gained fifty pounds in three months. Fifty pounds!” he boomed in exasperation. “I thought he was depressed. I thought something was really wrong. Rick didn’t tell me about all of the deliberate overeating he was doing; the special weight-gain shakes he and Bob were making for each other at night; spurring themselves on,” he grumbled, shaking his head in disapproval. “Bob was dating a girl called Helen back then as well. She lived not far away, so she was with them more. Now, she could tell you some stories!” Geoff added gravely.
“What do you mean?” Craig asked, feeling thoroughly invested in the story now.
“She was devoted to Bob, even after he started getting so fat. She said that she could tell that Bob was pushing his bad eating habits onto her. She was putting on weight; a lot of it; very quickly.”
Craig sat back, unimpressed. “People always make excuses when they gain weight. They want to find someone to blame.”
Geoff nodded in complete agreement. “I said the same thing. I even told her as much when she broke up with Bob. But after I dropped out of college and moved back here, I noticed that Rick was doing the same thing to me. He’d obviously been watching how Bob had done it to Helen and decided to have a go himself. He took me out for food constantly, telling me that he loved spoiling and pampering me. He said that college had made me skinny, and that I needed feeding up.”
Craig listened, feeling an odd sense of familiarity about the whole thing. “What happened to you?” he asked.
Geoff leaned back and showed his stomach to answer that question. “I put on a lot of weight. Gradual at first, but then it seemed to spiral. Rick was so sweet, and I thought, by not making a big deal about it, my weight struggle might help to make Rick feel less insecure, as he was starting to get quite obese at that point. I still loved him. I didn’t realise that his weight gain was on purpose, nor that mine was being orchestrated.”
Despite everything, Craig felt a pang of jealousy as Geoff talked about his ex as if he knew him so well; a secret, shared history that he himself could never be a part of.
“I got to almost 270lbs before I finally left him. It’s been four years since we broke up and I’m still over two hundred pounds now. It’s so hard to get it off once you gain weight,” he complained, shaking his head.
Craig didn’t know what to say. The conversation had suddenly paused at a very awkward spot.
“The reason I’m telling you all this is because I can tell that Rick is planning on doing the same thing to you. The pictures I see of you two together. It’s like history repeating itself all over again. This is all probably some kinky little fantasy in Rick’s head, fattening up some little chubby-chasing college boy.”
Craig’s teeth ground together as Geoff referred to him as a ‘chubby-chaser’, setting his mind against the guy altogether. Wes and Sam had mocked him for it endlessly since he had started dating Rick. So what if he was a chubby-chaser? Geoff probably looked way better with all the extra fat on him anyway. Who could blame Rick if he had fattened him up a bit?
“Well, thanks for the info,” he snapped impatiently. “But I think I can look after myself, thank you very much.”
“Don’t you want to know more?” Geoff asked, surprised that he was being turned away. “I can give you a contact number for Helen? She can tell you about her experience as well.”
Craig refused and turned his attention back to his assignment until a bewildered Geoff finally got the message and walked away. His cell phone buzzed in his pocket and he picked it up to read the message that had popped up on the screen. ‘I’m finishing early this evening,’ Rick explained. ‘Let me take you out to that Italian place tonight. We can get ice cream and doughnuts afterwards…. I can’t wait to spoil you rotten!’
“Have you noticed Wes getting a little softer recently?” Rick asked a couple of weeks later. “His clothes are always so fitted, there’s no hiding the little lovehandles he seems to have acquired.”
Craig nodded. Of course he had noticed. The same thing had started to happen to Sam as well, with his tight little butt beginning to put on more mass and a flush of extra coating filling out his normally slender face. “It’s your fault, getting them both onto those cheap beers and take-outs.”
Rick chuckled to himself. “Guilty,” he nodded playfully. It was no secret that Rick was not a fan of either of the boys, so he certainly wasn’t about to show any remorse at the fact that the pair of them were now struggling with maintaining their weight.
Craig laughed, despite the guilt that he felt at Wes and Sam’s newest predicament. He had had no idea that inviting Rick into their house would have such an impact on all their lives. The truth was that no matter how surprising the extra pounds looked on Wes and Sam, it was nothing in comparison to what he was feeling himself. His previously slow gain of 15lbs had begun to spike quite sharply, doubling in the last three weeks. He had felt it in his stomach and butt, but also in his face, as fat began to disribute itself under his chin in much the same way as it was with Sam
“Watch this,” Rick whispered to Craig, sitting back with a clearly mischievous glint in his eyes. “Sam… Wes!” he called out loudly, not getting up from his chair.
The two boys appeared from around the corner, each carrying a can of Rick’s beer that he had brought over; having helped themselves, just as Rick always insisted they do.
“I got paid today, so I’m taking Craig out for some doughnuts to celebrate. You boys want to tag along?” he asked. “My treat.”
Of course Wes and Sam took him up on the offer, smirking at each other at yet another opportunity to take advantage of Rick’s generous nature. Then Craig looked across at his boyfriend who appeared to be even more pleased with himself. A great, wicked plan was unfolding right before his very eyes; yet Craig had never felt more drawn to him.
By the following weekend, Craig had packed on a further 5lbs, gazing into the bathroom mirror as Rick slept on in his bedroom. He couldn’t get over how much his body was altering in such a short space of time. His chest had become softer in a matter of weeks and his flat stomach had rounded out, appearing fleshy underneath the skin. Even in his arms, which had always been naturally quite toned, Craig began to feel softer and less conditioned. But as he spun himself around, Craig awkwardly tried to get a look at his butt, which had been causing him the most clothing problems with anything other than the great array of sweatpants Rick had been buying in for him; arriving with these as if they were a token of his love, and professing to have chosen them for him based upon their interesting colours or style. Those previously tight and petitie glutes of his were taking on a whole new swollen shape. Craig found that he could actually grab almost the entire cheek in his hand and bounce it in a way that he never imagined before; the great soft mass of it going up and down feeling utterly bizarre.
Craig turned back again, looking down and seeing something else that had been worrying him lately. All the blood in his body had seemed to rush into his groin as he surveyed his physique in the mirror. He wondered why he wasn’t like Geoff, feeling completely outraged by the subtle ways Rick was manipulating him to overeat like he had been doing. But then he looked again at his body: the doughy stomach and fleshed out nipples; all those features that spoke of chubiness and excess weight; all the things that he admired so much in others and found so irresistably attractive. Even Wes and Sam were looking more appealing of late. Something was happening to him in this relationship, and Craig started to realise that, rather than being furious, he was actually aroused in a way that he never would have predicted.
“Whose idea was it to go on a double date?” Craig asked a few weeks later, as he slipped on the brand new shirt that Rick had bought for him that afternoon.
“Bob’s,” Rick explained. “He’s super into this new girl. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him this smitten.”
“And what do you think about her?” Craig asked, having realised that Rick was actually a surprisingly good judge of character.
“She’s nice,” Rick nodded. “Quite quiet, like you. But she shares some of my cousin’s interests, which I know he is really enjoying at the moment.”
“What sort of interests?” Craig shot back.
Rick’s cool composure briefly slipped and he looked suddenly caught out by the question. It was clear that he had not expected Craig to seek clarification. “Oh, um… you know. They both like cooking and stuff…” he mumbled, changing the subject almost immediately.
Craig and Rick arrived at the buffet place first, sitting themselves down at the table and politely sipping their drinks, despite the fact that the food smelt so good. About ten minutes later, an obviously very much loved-up couple strolled into the restaurant, giggling from jokes in their own private love laguage. Dark haired, overweight and wearing a dress that was far too small, Bob’s date still looked far too slim to be with him and his giant ball-like gut. They sat down after Bob had courteously pulled out a chair for her, giving her chubby butt one final pat before it disappeared underneath her oversized body.
The conversation didn’t exactly flow, but it was hardly awkward either. The giggly mood that Bob and his date had arrived in, continued as they began their first couple of rounds from the buffet. It was obvious that the pair of them only had eyes for each other and, although they did ask the occasional question of Rick or Craig, it was clear that they weren’t really listening. Bob’s hand kept sliding under the table and Craig wondered, more than once, whether the man was rubbing or patting his date’s belly in a way that would suggest she knew that he liked to feed up his women.
“Get those down you,” Bob smirked, handing over a plate of chicken wings to his younger cousin some time later. Craig had sensed a quiet competition between them both as they had gorged themselves; with Bob remaining a smug plate in the lead the whole time.
Rick nodded, never one to turn down a challenge.
“I’m stuffed!” Bob’s date declared, dropping her fork. “I couldn’t eat another bite!”
Bob smiled at her. “That’s okay, babe. You did very well. You managed five and a half plates of food,” he grinned, looking over at his cousin as he said it; as if taking another victory.
“How many plates have I had?” Craig asked Rick, suddenly suspecting that a secondary, simultaneous competition was taking place.
“Four,” Rick replied quietly, beginning to suck on his chicken wings.
So this was a competition, Craig realised. Not only had Bob eaten more than Rick, but his girlfriend had been greedier too. The reason for the whole double date now became very clear.
Craig got himself up without a word. He could sense the eyes of the others on the table as he collected a fresh plate and began filling it up, mounding it as high as he could.
“You’re still hungry, babe?” Rick asked with delight as Craig got back to the table,
Craig simply nodded and chewed. “Do you think we could go to that cheesecake place afterwards as well?” he asked, knowing that Bob was listening in.
“Yeah, babe. Of course we can,” Rick beamed, rubbing Craig’s thigh in approval. “You can have whatever you want.”
Hearing only a faint sigh from Bob’s direction, Craig knew that he had at least evened the score between the two cousins. Now he just needed to focus on getting all the food down.
It had been some time since the three housemates, Craig, Sam and Wes, had been out to the gay clubs. But with Rick set to make a small fortune working nights over the weekend, Craig finally had an evening with nothing to do. He put on his new shirt and pants, heading out to the clubs carrying an extra forty pounds than the last time he was out. But despite his remarkable weight increase, it wasn’t his size people were looking at. Clearly still in denial about their gains, Wes and Sam were still trying to squeeze themselves into the same twink-like outfits that had worked for them in the past. But despite how well these clothes continued to fit the boys in the shoulders and arms, the cheap material clung unflatteringly to their bloated middles and lovehandles, emphasising them even more than Craig’s own. It was almost embarrassing; especially when Wes got up to dance and gave the unsuspecting crowds an eyefull of his ass crack.
“He’s quite cute, I suppose,” Sam muttered as the end of the evening approached and he had still had no succes in catching anyone’s attention.
“His friend is pretty hot as well,” Wes nodded in agreement.
“Go talk to them,” Craig smiled encouragingly, trying not to show his amusement at their choices. The two guys they were checking out were like him: chubby and soft; not at all the sort of guys the two horny boys would have resorted to only a few months earlier. Yet, there they were only half an hour later, leading them back home. Beggars, it seemed, couldn’t be choosers.
“Who’s the little chub with Wes?” Rick asked the following weekend, whispering as the housemate arrived home with company.
“His new boyfriend…” Craig grinned.
Rick laughed in surprise. “Wes has a boyfriend? I thought he was all about keeping things casual?”
Craig shrugged. “He says they’re perfect for each other. Sam’s out on an actual, proper date as well. I guess they’re both growing up.”
“More like ‘growing out,’” Rick laughed mockingly. “There’s no way the old Wes would have given a fat guy like that a chance.”
“I guess…” Craig nodded slowly. They both knew that Wes and Sam’s gains were mostly down to his meddling. Now Rick looked positively delighted with himself.
“Bob and I were talking,” Rick began next, dropping his massive body down onto the sofa and slipping his arm over his chubby lover’s shoulders. “Maybe you could save a little money next year by moving in with us.”
Craig snorted on his beer. An invitation to move in with Rick had been the last thing he had expected.
“It would be so much fun,” Rick continued, rubbing his chubby hands up and down Craig’s doughy torso. “Bob is totally up for the idea. Just imagine it, I’d be able to spoil and pamper you every single day…”
“But we’ve only been dating eight months,” Craig mumbled.
Rick’s hands were lost in the massaging of Craig’s body: his soft stomach and sensitive nipples. “I know. But I think you’re ready,” he whispered seductively.
Craig pondered his boyfriend’s odd choice of phrasing. He sensed that everything Rick had done up until now had been some sort of preamble for this next stage. Quietly fattening him up to 200lbs was nothing in comparison to what he had done to Geoff. Now it seemed, Rick’s attention was thoroughly locked on taking him a lot further.
“You’d love living with me, wouldn’t you?” Rick asked teasingly; beginning to stroke the hardness that he had discovered swelling in Craig’s pants, even though they were both still in the shared living space.
A moan escaped Craig’s lips as his eyes rolled back into his head. “We can’t do this here,” he whispered, looking over to the door and worrying that Wes could walk in any second.
“Well then, I guess you should hurry up and tell me you’ll move in with me,” Rick teased, speeding up his stimulation of Craig, rather than stopping.
Craig’s whole body shuddered and he knew he could probably climax with rapid speed if Rick just kept doing what he was doing. Sometimes Rick could get him to orgasm faster than seemed natural for most guys.
“I really want to. But…” Craigh sighed, trying to make his brain think of how to phrase his concerns.
“You don’t want to be spoiled and pampered by me every day?” Rick asked, whispering now as Wes and his new boyfriend’s voices seemed close to the door.
“That’s exactly what I’m scared of!” Craig shot back, pulling his sweatpants back just in time as Wes entered.
“We’re just heading out for some food,” Wes explained, after introducing his overweight boyfriend to Rick.
“Take these,” Rick insisted, pulling out some coupons for the pizza place a couple of blocks away. “That’ll save you some cash and you can get a few beers while you’re out,” he smiled cunningly. “In fact,” he grinned, looking down at a still flustered Craig, and pulling out a twenty from his wallet, “why don’t you boys make sure you stay out for a couple of hours and give us some space?”
Wes never had a problem with accepting anything from Rick; nodding in agreement and shuffling out of the house after his chubby new lover.
“Cute couple,” Rick chuckled as the door finally closed behind them both. “Now,” he grinned, pulling off his shirt and releasing his giant belly. “We have the whole house to ourselves. Where I…” he rambled, getting down onto his knees and lifting Craig’s shirt off him as he sat on the couch still. “...can spend some time trying to convince you that moving in with me will be a great idea.”
Craig had to wriggle on the couch as Rick pulled down his sweatpants and underwear, until he was entirely butt naked; his hardness getting sucked on with perfection by his giant lover.
“You are so hard tonight. I can feel your dick pulsing in my mouth,” Rick chuckled, taking a quick break.
“Well, you’ve got great skills,” Craig smiled back.
“You’re not wrong. If you want a decent blow job, you should always ask a greedy guy. Someone who knows how to push a lot into his mouth,” he teased seductively, knowing that it was always that sort of confidence in his size that never failed to get Craig going.
“What about me?” Craig asked. “Do I give good blow jobs?”
“Would you like to be good at it?” Rick smirked wickedly, rubbing Craig’s doughy pot belly.
“Yes,” Craig nodded with submission.
“I’ll train you up then,” Rick nodded slowly. “When you move in with me, I’ll teach you exactly what it means to have a big, greedy mouth,” he smirked, actually pinching at Craig’s belly fat and jiggling it gently. “Would you like that?”
“Yes!” Craig shot back, his eyes wide as he actually felt an orgasm building simply from having his fat handled.
“Are you going to move in with me then? And let me train you?” Rick teased, shaking Craig’s belly fat even more.
“Yes!” Craig whimpered through gritted teeth as his erection actually erupted there and then, streaming down the shaft in great waves and pooling between his thighs. What had he just signed up for?
Sam and Wes were annoyed when Craig told them he wouldn’t be taking the room for his final year in college. They had little comprehension of how merciful he was actually being, freeing them from the meddlesome grasp of Rick who would no longer be able to torment them, nor their waistlines.
The summer arrived and Craig headed home to spend a couple of months with his family. He braced himself for the looks and comments he would get about his weight gain, but on the whole, it was fairly muted. He hadn’t had a huge circle of friends in high school, and those he did have were on the larger side anyway. His mother was the only one who caused a fuss, talking about how out of shape he looked and how out of breath he seemed once he had to resume his old chore of taking the trash out for her. As he showed her pictures of his boyfriend, Rick, she visibly bristled at his size, not holding back her thoughts on who was to blame for Craig’s additional pounds; especially when she hit the bottle.
Away from Rick, the weight didn’t feel quite as erotic as it had before. He felt every bit as trapped as he had been back in high school, trying to manage his mother’s silent issues with alcohol; leaning on Rick for support and to take his mind off things whenever he called each evening.
Slipping back into his old diet and lifestyle at home, Craig found the weight to be dropping off him fairly swiftly. Although he knew this would probably disappoint Rick when he next saw him, for Craig, it was a welcome relief. In allowing himself to climax at having his fat jiggled, he felt like he had reliquished a little more of his true desires than he had bargained for. By losing weight and getting back to his old habits, Craig would be able to stand his ground and maintain a physique that more resembled his appearance at the start of his relationship with Rick. That, more than anything else, would help to prove that he wasn’t really getting off on becoming so out of shape.
“Well, look who it is!” Rick smiled, grabbing both of the heavy bags Craig was carrying out of the airport and putting them down on the floor. Although he had ended his time at home on a very sour note with his mother, an immediate surge of passion swelled through Craig at seeing the large man again. Was Rick’s stomach even rounder than it had been before? It certainly looked bigger, with his belly peeking out of the bottom of his undersized t-shirt. “Someone’s pleased to see me,” the big man teased, seeing a bulge forming in Craig’s pants after their embrace.
Craig looked down, embarrassed, but Rick simply chuckled and started to lead the way out. Craig was cursing his body. He’d spent all summer psyching himself up for taking back some control in this relationship and already his hardness was letting him down. In fact, it was getting worse; flooding with blood more and more as he followed behind the massive glutes of his boyfriend; now that he carried the two massive bags in each hand, Rick actually looked wider than the back end of a car..
After throwing the bags into the back of his truck, Craig felt the entire vehicle rock as Rick climbed inside; yet another little detail about dating such a big man that Craig loved, and had almost entirely fogotten during his time at home. Rick looked around the parking lot, seeing that it was fairly clear. Then he turned his attention to the tent that was pushing up the material in Craig’s pants and slid his hand over the top of it. “Summer’s over,” he whispered seductively into Craig’s ear. “You’re all mine now!”
Even as the pair of them raced upstairs upon immediately getting home, Rick didn’t mention Craig’s thirty pound weight loss. The moment seemed to be entirely consumed by Rick’s new size as he balanced his large stomach on Craig’s back and set to work.
“What’s that doing in here?” Craig asked afterwards as they lay together in bed.
“It’s our new refrigerator,” Rick smiled. “It’ll save us having to go downstairs for snacks all the while.”
Craig mumbled in disapproval. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep all that well with the humming nose.”
“You’ll get used to it,” Rick laughed, rolling over to cuddle his lover better and making the entire bed rock and squeal. “You’re going to be getting used to a lot of new things this year…”
Living with Rick was a complete culture shift after the summer. His fourth and final year in college was more intense than any of the years that had come before it. Rick’s place was further away from campus, and so Craig now took the bus pretty much everywhere he had to go. Bob and Rick lived on take-outs and turned their noses up whenever Craig tried to make something wholesome and homemade; like a couple of five year olds refusing to even try a vegetable of any kind.
To Craig’s surprise, he soon learned that Bob and Rick hired an older lady, called Pam, to come in and take care of the place for them.
“Such dirty boys, these two,” she gumbled to Craig as he tried to work at the kitchen counter on an assignment. It was clear that she had deep affection for both Rick and Bob; however, that didn’t mean they were above her criticisms. She busily cleaned out take-out containers and put them away for recylcing. “Some days I come in here and want to cry. I’m amazed they don’t have rats.”
Craig nodded awkwardly in agreement. Maybe if the pair of them ever left even the slightest crumb from all the food they consumed, rats and mice could indeed have become a problem for them.
“And Rick was such a handsome boy when he moved in,” Pam went on, pulling a pair of enormous underwear from the washing machine; the elastic in them obviously coming to the end of its life. “It’s such a shame!”
At this, Craig’s interest was caught. “You’ve known the boys that long?” he asked. In all the time he had been dating Rick, Pam was only the second person he had ever come across who had spoken about the Rick’s former physique.
“Oh, yes! I met him when he first moved in here with his cousin,” she began. “There had been problems at home. He hadn’t wanted to go to college, despite being so clever. Then he didn’t want to play sports, despite being so gifted. They all thought Bob was a bad influence, which I can’t say I disagree with,” she nodded fairly. “As soon as Rick moved in he started piling on the weight, just like his cousin had a couple of years earlier. I remember looking at him one day and noticing this little paunch had popped out on him. His face got chubby. Then his whole body just bloated and got bigger and bigger.”
Craig wrigged awkwardly in his seat, feeling an odd arousal as he imagined Rick undergoing such a transformation. “He had another boyfriend back then, didn’t he?” Craig asked, wondering just how clued up Pam really was on the goings on in this house.
She thought for a moment. “Yes. Now, what was his name?” she pondered, before Geoff’s name came to her again. “He was another lovely boy.”
“Was he a big guy as well?” Craig questioned.
Pam thought back. “Yes,” she nodded, looking away slightly as she tried to recall. “I remember him having quite the big stomach on him. But only after he moved in here with the boys.”
“Geoff moved in with them?” Rick asked next, surprised that this had been the case.
“For quite a few months,” she nodded. “Rick used to spoil him rotten!” she smiled.
“He does the same with me,” Craig blushed. He’d only been living there for a couple of weeks and already he could feel his stomach reinflating. He knew that Ben and Rick had a pair of scales somewhere, but they weren’t placed anywhere obvious so that he could have free access to them and check his suspicions.
“Well, you just be careful,” Pam smiled at him. “I love Bob and RIck dearly, but I know they’re no angels either. I’ve watched quite a few of Bob’s girlfriends get pretty big over the years.”
“And you think that will happen to me?” Craig shot back, feeling a great spike of arousal at the thought. After all, he was still quite far from his starting weight, back when he met Rick for the first time.
Pam glanced down towards Craig’s slight double chin. “You just be careful,” she repeated again in a motherly fashion; perhaps holding back her true thoughts of what was really about to happen next.
Portion sizes became Craig’s greatest enemy over the following weeks. After a day of manual work, the boys filled their plates to astronomical levels, and they did the same for Craig; whether he’d asked for it or not. At first, he left plenty of it on his plate for Rick to finish off. But, these days, Rick was starting to nag him for wasting food. “Just get the fries down, at least,” he’d sigh, seeing the large mountain that remained on the plate. Then: “You can’t leave all that meat,” he’d grumble.
Craig had hoped that Rick and Bob would start to put less on his plate, but they never did. He’d sometimes catch their knowing looks; smirking as they piled the food up more and more. With Bob back to being single, Craig suddenly felt that he had become the boys’ sole focus of their entertainment.
By the time Thanksgiving came around, Craig was right back where he had started, with his stomach bouncing back to the size it had been at the end of the summer semester. However, the regained weight had deposited differently on his body now that he had lost the weight and put it back on. His butt and thighs were softer and larger this time, his nipples more sensitive. His facial cheeks had blown up more, and Craig had decided to keep his spreading double chin concealed underneath a camouflage of short and very necessary facial hair.
“Oh, I love this time of year!” Bob sighed, plopping himself into his big armchair by the TV after a ginormous Thanksgiving meal and beginning to snack on the leftover buffet food from the evening before. “Nothing but endless food now, until the beginning of January!” he beamed, tapping his large stomach. “A fat guy’s dream!”
Craig considered tidying up, but he knew that Pam was coming in the morning. Instead, he took his swollen and sore body over to the couch and threw himself lazily down next to his boyfriend, snuggling into his large body. Rick hadn’t worn a shirt since finishing work on the Tuesday, and his overstuffed tummy had never looked larger. Despite the unusually cold November that they were experiencing, it was obvious that the large guy was experiencing what Rick referred to as ‘the meat sweats’.
“You wait until you see how crazy we go over the holidays,” Bob teased Craig just as RIck burped uncomfortably from all the food. “Our Rick here is king of the eggnog!”
“I’ve already made Craig a batch of my special eggnog actually,” Rick explained to his cousin.
“Oh, have you?” Bob smirked, getting a quick look at Craig’s swollen belly. “I see.”
“I was actually going to go see my mom this Christmas, but…” Craig pondered aloud. As the weight had piled back on him in the last couple of months, all he could imagine was his mother’s sarcastic voice in his head, telling him things that he didn’t want to hear; blaming him for everything that was wrong in her life.
“But he knows he’ll have a better time with us!” Rick told Bob, finishing off Craig’s sentence for him; saving Craig from having to explain his awkward relationship with his mother.
“Excellent!” boomed Bob. “We’ll look after you,” he winked. “Won’t we, Rick?”
With his arm draped over Craig’s shoulders, Rick rubbed the top of Craig’s arm, like the boy was his dutiful student. “Definitely,” he nodded. Then came the daunting phrase that Craig had heard all too often. “We’ll be spoiling you rotten!”
It was strange to see people that Craig had met many times in the past and not have them recognise him. That was exactly what was starting to happen as the Spring finally arrived. It was all the fat Craig had gained in his face. It had changed his appearance quite considerably; especially with his facial hair. Over the winter months, his weight had been building and building. It was his own fault. He hadn’t been fighting Rick and Bob, as well as their manipulations to ensure that he over-ate in the same way that they did. However, it was also the case that gaining weight was just so easy. Rather than having the traumatic experience of feeling his clothes tighten and a lover who disapproved, Rick was constantly slowly updating Craig’s wardrobe, subtly ensuring that his transition into obesity was as smooth as possible.
Now when Craig looked in the mirror, he saw the shape of man he would have been very much attracted to himself. He had all the fat features that he adored so much, on his very own body. Back in the days before he met Rick, he had longed to play with a guy with such jiggly nipples as he had now. The back fat, the arm blubber and jiggly thighs: they were all things he had adored. He couldn’t believe that he had such a protrusive stomach, nor comprehend the width of his swelling butt, meaning that he frequently knocked things over as he tried to glide into tight spaces that would not have been a problem for him eighteen months ago. What turned him on even more was the fact that he never envisioned himself inhabiing a body like this. He held up his underwear in disbelief. Did he really need such oversized clothes now? Had he really allowed his kink to take him this far? All because he’d fallen for a big man with a secret desire to feed him up?
The sex with Rick was even more astonishing as Craig had grown. He senseed there was a closeness and connection between them both that could not be matched. He felt admired and appreciated like never before. The way Rick’s hands travelled across his expanding body, reaching for all the softest parts, assessing the great width of his shape and marvelling at the pure fat that had taken over his body. Finally, Craig had found the one man who understood his attraction to all of this, like no one else he had ever met in his life.
The acceptance came easy after that. By the summer, Craig was well over 300lbs and lounging about on the couch, just the same as the other two when Pam came around to clean for them all. He couldn’t believe his luck as he was hired by a company straight after his graduation, working from home three days each week and only needing to commute into the city on the two other days.
“Maybe we could start thinking about getting our own place soon?” Craig smiled as he scanned his first paycheck with pride.
“I’d really like that,” Rick nodded, unbuttoning the shirt of his pot bellied boyfriend after his hard day in the office. Living with Bob had been great, but after two years of being together, the time felt right for the pair of them to branch out on their own.
Collectively, the pair of them saved and set money aside over the following months; planning their move for sometime in the Spring. The whole idea gave them both a glow of bubbling excitement; with their loved-up contentment ensuring that the pair of them continued to swell up even more.
“That has to be the best Chinese place in town,” Craig smiled, as he leaned back and rubbed his large, tight stomach a few weeks later. All three of them had gorged on their own banquet meal for two and there wasn’t a single thing left to show for it. “I hope there’s somewhere just as good in our new place,” he commented offhandedly to Rick, thinking about their imagined new apartment.
“What new place?” Bob jumped in, sounding immediately irritated.
Craig winced, remembering that Rick had asked him not to mention it to Bob until they had time to all sit down and discuss their move properly, mouthing a silent ‘sorry’ to his boyfriend as he could tell that he had just dropped his foot in it.
“You plan to move out together?” he asked Craig in a surprisingly aggressive tone.
“Not yet,” Craig smiled, trying to calm the suddenly tense atmosphere. “But in a few months, maybe.”
“That’s bullshit,” Bob laughed. “Rick’s not moving out. We’ve lived together for years. He loves it here.”
Rick breathed in awkwardly, knowing that he needed to set his cousin straight. “It’s just something Craig and I think might be a good next step for the pair of us,” he offered, as if dipping his toe into very hot water and then taking it straight out again.
“Bullshit!” Bob snarled. “Are you just saying that to keep him happy?” he pointed rudely at Craig.
“No. It’s…” Rick mumbled. “It’s something we’ve been talking about for a few months now.”
Bob shook his head angrily. The idea of Craig breaking up his living arrangements with his cousin had sent him into a fiery temper that Craig had never witnessed before. “Do you know what he calls you behind your back?” he snarled at Craig. “Your precious boyfriend over there?”
Craig sat there motionless, wondering where this sudden anger had come from.
“Dude!” Rick cried, attempting to make his cousin see reason and not hit out like it was obvious he was about to do.
“He calls you his ‘pet pig,’” Bob shot back. “You wanna know why you’re so fucking fat now?” he growled angily across to Craig. “It’s because he made you that way. He pours appetite stimulants into your pasta sauce, calorie boosters into your milkshake and whipping cream into your coffee. And that’s only the half of it!”
Craig looked across at Rick’s anxious face.
“He doesn’t actually love you. He’s just a kinky little fucker, like me. He gets off on making you fatter. That’s all.”
“Cool it, Bob!” Rick shouted now, clearly getting angry.
“Do you know how many times he’s asked me to help him get a measuring tape around that fat stomach of yours when you’ve drifted off to sleep, slumped on the couch? He even keeps a notebook.”
Rick’s head slipped into his hands, hardly believing that all of this was unfolding. Meanwhile, Craig’s wild eyes simply switched back and forth between the pair of them.
“And…” Bob added, laughing aggressively at the next piece of information he decided to share. “You want to know why you always get the munchies right before bedtime?” he blasted on. “It’s because Rick trained it into you. He looked up online how to do it; dosing you up with sugar for weeks until you started to do it all yourself. You really think he loves you?” he scoffed. “Two years you’ve been together and the only conversations he’s ever had with me about you is getting my advice on how to make sure you get even fatter.”
Craig got up, feeling Bob’s onslaught was getting too much for him. He heard the two cousins shouting at each other as he climbed the stairs and took himself into the bedroom. Was this it? Was his relationship over? Had every affectionate word that Rick ever said to him been a complete lie?
“You probably have some questions for me?” Rick gingerly asked as he stepped into the room a few minutes later. “I know you must be upset. Bob doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”
“Really?” Craig shot back angrily. “You’re going to try and pin this all on Bob?”
Rick paused for a second and then nodded in defeat. “You’re right,” he agreed. “I’ve been out of line. Those things Bob said about the appetite stimulants and calorie boosters… that was all pretty much true,” he mumbled sheepishly.
“Of course it was,” Craig sighed impatiently. “You think I didn’t know all that? I like fat guys. And you… you clearly like fat guys too. The whole feeding thing was just our quiet, kinky little game. But I didn’t think that was where our relationship started and ended. I thought you were in love with me.”
Rick looked hurt by the pain in Craig’s eyes. “I do love you!” he cried, stepping further into the room and kneeling by the side of the bed. “I just… I just let this whole kinky shit get the better of me. I watched Bob fatten up so many of his girlfriends, even when he was in high school, and I guess I let it all get into my head. Bob doesn’t understand real relationships. He’s just missing that little part in his brain. That’s the only reason why I don’t talk to him about all the mushy stuff between us.”
“Would you choose me over Bob?” Craig asked, having always felt secretly anxious that Rick’s cousin meant more to him than he did.
Rick sighed and dropped his gaze. “Of course I would. But you’ve got to understand. Bob was there for me at a very difficult time.” He sighed, as if about to relinquish the greatest secret of his entire life. “I didn’t always used to look this way. Back in high school… I was kinda… athletic,” he admitted begrudgingly.
At this, Craig couldn’t help but laugh a little. Of all the secrets that had come out that evening, this one hardly merited the gravity that Rick seemed to instill upon it. “I know,” he smirked. “Pam did mention it once or twice.”
Rick’s eyebrows rose up. Perhaps he had forgotten how much Pam liked to talk. “I hated it,” he grumbled. “I had this desire in me to grow and get fat. Yet no one around me could understand why I was having these feelings. No one… apart from Bob. We could talk for hours about it; this compulsion inside of us to get fat. I’d seen Bob doing it to himself after high school. It literally blew my mind! So when I finally got my job and was earning enough to pay Bob some rent money, I moved straight in here and followed in his footsteps. I lost my abs and packed on a belly in a matter of weeks. It was…” he sighed with pleasure, “the best feeling in the entire world!”
“But what about Geoff?” Craig asked next.
Rick scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Pam told you about him too, huh?” he whispered.
Craig shook his head, finally recounting the story of bumping into Rick’s ex, just as he should have done over eighteen months ago.
“So you knew all that, and yet you still stuck by me?” Rick asked in utter disbelief once Craig had finished, leaving nothing unsaid. “What the hell did I do to deserve you for two years? Ever since I was eighteen, I had Bob telling me that he was the only person in the whole world who would accept me for who I really was. Yet, there you were, standing by my side this whole time.”
“It’s a mess, isn’t it?” Craig sighed. They’d both been so immature about this whole situation; each of them holding pieces of the same jigsaw and not sharing. Only now could they piece them all together and see that they’d both only ever been completely happy.
“Do you still want to get a place with me?” Rick asked, allowing a little bit of hope to shine through his voice.
“I think so,” Craig nodded. “But… do you still want to make me fatter?” he asked in response.
Rick squirmed, being asked so directly about something he had concealed for so long. However, this was a fresh start: a time for them both to be honest with each other. “Yes,” he stated, knowing full well that it could be the end of his relationship. “I don’t think I’d ever want to stop fattening you up.”
Craig nodded. Finally, the truth had been revealed: the feeder, thoroughly exposed.
“Okay,” Craig sighed, bracing himself for what needed to happen next. “But we do this together from now on. We communicate. We say what we’re really feeling, when we feel it.”
Rick was nodding in complete agreement; the smile spreading across his broad face. This wasn’t the end after all. It was only the beginning.
#gainer fiction#gainer stories#gay feedee#gainerstory#gainerfic#gainer story#gayfeedee#gainerstories#gayfeeder#gainer fic
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thigh fucking with ayato to relieve his stress from work so he bends the reader in his desk while degrading him ( ◜‿◝ )♡
ayato x reader
cw: domtop character, subbottom reader, degradation, minor feminization (use of the word cunt), minor voyeurism, minor sir kink, petnames
lmk if i miss anything!
<3
“sir.. please,” you squirm under ayato as his body keeps you bent over his desk, hand on the small of your back as he feels around for a small bottle in his desk.
“what? this where you want it?” he smiles as he traces a finger up your exposed hole watching as it winks back up at him, leaning back to spread the lube all over it, “in this slutty cunt a yours?”
“‘m not a slut..” you slur, biting back a moan as he laughs, your face too cute to ignore. i mean your body is practically jumping at his touch while your poor cunt tries to take his fingers in, desperate to be filled.
it had been another regular day in the office before you were called up for another one of your lil “private meetings”, the angst on his face clear as day the moment you stepped through those grand doors.
the man is in desperate need of an actual break, what with the commission beating down his door 24/7, and ayato couldn't think no one better than his favorite boy..
his boy, to give it to him.
you were just made to take him. your desperate whines and moans music to his ears as he slowly jerks off your sad cock, spreading the lube all between your thighs and back up to your eager hole. honestly, he can't imagine how he ever makes it through the day without you
if he could just pay you to look all pretty bent over his desk, filling that pretty boycunt a yours up like it deserves to be filled, he'd do it in a heartbeat.
“oh, puppy, look at you,” he coos sweetly in your ear, his dick jerking against the curve of your ass as he bends over to take your dick in his hands, dirtying it with your precum, “this is all it takes to get you wet? a whore like u cant go two minutes without having his hole stuffed, hmm?”
your ass perks up to his touch on instinct, rutting against him for some friction on your rim. you needed him inside you so bad.
“no baby,” ayato hums, small frown on his face as he presses his finger into the skin of your hip to hold you still, “none of that,”
his hard cock slides in between the warmth of your lube slick thighs, groan escaping his lips as you clench around him from the sensation. your hips stutter as you rock against him, the feeling of his cock against yours just too much to handle.
“what a slutty little ass you’ve got,” he gropes, “what did i tell you?”
“please,” you shake your head, hole winking up at him everytime he prods, begging for any sort of attention, “please put it in, please sir,”
and you make it so hard to resist what with the sweet way his name falls off your tongue.. but only good dogs get treats he reminds you, all gentle smiles as he runs his hands down your back and squeezes at your thigh, finally starting to fuck you in earnest.
“stay tight. don't let up till i finish,” he grunts, keeping you bent over his desk as your hands grip onto the edges of the table in an attempt to keep balance against the smack of his hips against your ass. the tip of his dick pokes through your thighs as he uses them like a fleshlight, spreading his pre all over you and the underside of your abandoned cock.
ayato's all up on you, chest pressed against your back as he groans in your ear so you can know personally just what you do to him. it has you fucking yourself back on his hard cock, begging for him to just touch you already, but the sudden ringing of his old desk phone distracts you.
ayato reaches for it, your eyes widening as you glance up at him shaking your head, but he just holds a single finger to his lips before sliding the phone onto his shoulder, giving his fingers full freedom to slide back into position on the small of your back as he slows his thrusts to a slow grind of his dick. you've got nothing to worry about, really. he's gonna make sure to fuck all those useless thoughts out your pretty little head all the same.
“yes?” he doesn't do much to hide the annoyance in his tone, his hands pressing into your warm skin, using you like some cheap toy as he forces you to stay down and take it.
“two pm? no, cancel that, thank you. yes i’m sure,”
it feels like his stupid talk could go on for forever, but he still manages to stay cool on call as he draws the softest moans out of you, pulling out from your thighs to see how you flinch when he slaps his dick across your unused hole, lightly tapping the side of ur ass so you can arch for him some more just like a good toy should. it all has your mind falling away, uselessly rutting yourself back onto his cock as he plays with you, making sure to stay all pretty laid out on the desk for him.
“i’m a little busy at the moment,” he leans down to press a kiss on your shoulder as he squeezes at your ass, voice almost a low whisper, “isn't that right?”
all you can do is nod your head, body too hot and aching to say no. so thoroughly fucked out you don't even notice hes ended the call already, phone disgarded somewhere on his desk as he picks up his pace again, watching his cock dissapear into the folds of your thighs as his free hand reaches around your middle.
“gods, youre so fucking filthy, look at you,” he laughs, pinching at the head of your cock, spreading your pre all over his fingers, “you really get off from being used like that?”
“‘m not,” your words break off what with the way your body betrays you, thighs clenching as he starts jerking off your pathetic cock,
“i wonder how everyone would react,” he leans down to your level, lips warm on your ear as he keeps his hand tight around you, “if they saw how wet you get from just the touch of my fingers,”
you rut back into his hand, silently begging, but he keeps his touches light, laughing at how desperate you get.
"use your words, puppy," he gently hums before squeezing your chin in his hands and forcing your mouth open with his fingers. his face is so close to yours you can feel his words on the skin of your neck, but his body keeps you pinned against the desk stuck from facing him, "cmon, tell me what you want,"
“please, sir,,” your body jerks as you cry, way too focused on chasing his hand. the feel of his fingers tracing over your tip, the rhythmic sound of his skin on yours, it leaves your head too empty to think of anything but release.
“a slut like you can do better than that”, he moves his hand from your dick, the smile on his lips clear as day as he listens to your incoherent moans, rubbing your mess all over your tummy.
“please let me cum, please,”
you can feel the smile on his lips as he takes your wrists in one hand, lifting you from his desk and exposing your fucked out body to the empty office.
your head falls back against his chest, body almost giving out when he finally takes your cock in his hand and finally gives you what you've been begging so prettily for.
“that’s it, let it all out,” your legs shake as you jerk your hips to try and match his pace, head too dumb to do anything but whine as you finally cum, voice caught all up in your throat, ayato's lips on yours silencing you as he finishes all over your thighs, and you all over his hand.
#splataii writes#bottom male reader#male reader insert#male reader#kamisato ayato#x male reader#sub male reader#dom male character#male reader smut
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Yandere Vox x Secretary Reader Pt. 2
Eh, what have you guys done to me. I swear, we Vox fangirls are the thirstiest on the internet right now. Also, officially, I’m making this a three part series, but that’s it. So much for a oneshot. I'll make a title for this series, eventually. Also, if you want to be tagged, please put your age in your bio.
Part One - Part Three
Triggers: Dubcon-y vibes in scenes. Violence and threatening. Read responsibly, stuff is gonna get a little dark this chapter.
Word count: 3,142
---
Vox thought you looked perfect. For once, you were wearing something decent that he bought you instead of one of the plain outfits from before you had moved in. Somehow, you had been convinced to put on actual jewelry and makeup as well. The only flaw you held was the dirty look on your face, which you refused to face towards him directly, and it only got dirtier as you downed more and more wine.
“You know, you could at least attempt to have a good time after all the effort I put into this evening,” he said, “You haven’t even touched your food.”
“Not hungry,” you said, voice ice cold. It always was nowadays.
“If you’re not in the mood for dinner, we could watch a new production I oversaw,” he said, “I think you’d enjoy it.”
You snort at that.
“I’d rather listen to Alastor’s radio program than watch any of the hot trash your production company creates,” you said.
“I’m sorry? What was that?” he said, putting a warning hint into his tone.
“You heard me,” you said, “I’ve gotta say for someone supposedly so modern, you’re still just an old man. Alastor is what? Like twenty years older than you? And you think he’s elderly? You’re practically a decrepit bygone as well. You think anyone gives a shit about cable nowadays? At least Alastor has the decency to make stuff with class and not just forgettable, cheap cash grabs.”
Against his will, he felt a circuit spurt. His hand clenched around the glass and slammed it onto the table, causing you to jump. A small noise left your mouth, as panicked as the look in your eyes was now. You looked like you knew that you had pushed a little more than you probably should have.
“You know what?” he hissed, “You think you can just talk to me like that? Fine. You wanna play rough with me? Well guess what, I’m going to fuck that bad attitude right out of you!”
“Excuse me???”
You didn’t even look scared at that just shocked and baffled, as if that had been the last thing you had expected to hear.
“You heard me!” he grabbed you by your shoulders and shoved you flat onto the couch, “I’m sick of you fighting me. Well, you’re not going to after this.”
“W-wait, Vox, stop-”
He smashed his lips to yours, purposefully being harsh, biting you when you tried to keep your mouth closed. When you attempted to turn your face away, he grabbed your chin rough enough where he knew it would leave a mark before kissing you harder. You pounded your fist against his chest, but he ignored it, straddling you. He eventually used his other hand to grab your wrist and push it into the couch.
He didn’t know when it happened, but at some point in your struggle something shifted in the air. Changed. You had finally stopped fighting, slowly wrapping your arm around his neck, kissing him back. It was heavenly, you finally submitting to him. Yes, yes, yes… He paused to look you in the eyes, to see your timid gaze and red face. There was still a look of anger glazed across your features, but it was fading. He brought his hand up to play at the buttons on your blouse. You looked at each other for a second longer before you initiated a kiss for once, using the arm around his neck to pull him close. Your tongue felt so hot, so right, as if your body was as electric as his own and-
Vox gasped, a spark running through his head. He woke up alone in bed, a literal hot mess. He felt like his head was overheating, running a million miles a minute, despite the fact that he should feel cold from sleep. Mixing this with the slick sweat and fluid he was covered in, it was an uncomfortable feeling. Groping for the robe hanging next to his bed, he climbed out. What a dream. He needed a second to wire down from that before trying to go back to sleep.
He picked up his phone and opened it to check on you. The camera in your room showed you curled up on your mattress, blanket half off your body and arms wrapped around one of your pillows. It pressed into your dozing face, which held a peaceful, relaxed look that he rarely saw now that you had decided to go to war with him. His finger absently stroked your image on the screen.
Why did you have to be so difficult? He didn’t know what had been the powder keg that had kicked off your little rebellion, but whatever it was, all his attempts to nip it in the bud had made you more temperamental. Clearly his irritation with your behavior had seeped into his mind enough to create some… darker fantasies deep in his sleeping subconscious.
He shook his head. It was just a dream. It didn’t mean anything.
Besides, he already had been thinking about what to do next, to give you that little push you needed to be more agreeable.
---
Later that day he scoffed at how ridiculous his own morbid imagination was. The idea of you dressed all pimped up like one of Valentino’s whores. You barely got out of bed nowadays. If he was being honest, your imprisonment had caused your mood to swing between defiant temper tantrums and a hopelessly depressed sloth. Today, you were in the latter mood, still in pajamas that he swore you were wearing two days ago, lying on the couch and mindlessly eating as you watched some random reality show.
“Hello there, beautiful,” he said, trying to sound pleasant, “Looks like you’ve had a relaxing day.”
You glance at him for a second before looking back at the television. The blanket is pulled tighter around you, as if you were trying to hide any inch of yourself from him. Ever since his last attempt at showing his affection had ended in you headbutting him – hard – you had been particularly prickly at even the slightest hint that he might want to touch you.
“What do you want, asshole?” you said, voice lacking emotion.
Charming as always.
“Well, dearest, I was thinking. Now that you’ve had some time to think things over, I was hoping we could finally come to an agreement that would make us both happy,” he said.
“I highly doubt that’s possible,” you said.
He sat beside you, which caused you to curl your legs in tighter. You inch up on the arm a little, as if to sit as far away from him as possible without having to actually put any effort into getting up.
“We both have something that the other person wants, something that could be easily settled with a written contract,” Vox said, “You would like to be allowed to roam around this cesspool of a city and I-”
“Let me guess, it includes a whole paragraph about me never leaving your sight as well as a clause about how often you get to stick yourself in my various orifices?” you grumbled.
“You’re so melodramatic sometimes,” he said, “You always assuming the worst about people, F/N. Makes me wonder if you were double crossed a lot in your previous life.”
You don’t even respond to this, just continue to stare ahead. He’d noticed that lately you’ve been avoiding his gaze. He wasn’t sure how much you had figured out about his abilities, but you seemed to have pieced enough together that the more you avoided his eyes, the less direct influence he had on you at the moment. He was sure that it was one of the many reasons you were so moody lately; you stubbornly refused to be soothed by him. Regardless, whether you were trying to avoid his hypnotic gaze or not, it’s no matter. It’s not like you’re going to be able to avoid the overall influence he has over this city, especially if you spend your free time watching television he’s created.
“It’s rather tame, considering the situation you’re in. Contract or not, it’s not like you’re going to be going anywhere anytime soon,” he continued, “You’re lucky I care for you as much as I do, trying to work with you like this.”
“Hooray for me,” you said.
You really were a brat sometimes. Vox at times wondered if it was because he was too soft on you, and you didn’t realize the amount of actual power he held over you. Either that or you just didn’t care anymore. Whatever. It was all big talk because at the end of the day, you both knew you couldn’t do anything about your situation.
“You already have lots of benefits, which you would retain. Nice apartment, clothes, up to date tech. Besides that, you can come and go regularly, as long as you’re back here within twenty-four from when you last left. You can do whatever you want during that time. You also would be working for me a minimum of forty hours a week, with the occasional granted vacation at my discretion. That’s pretty much it, along with you occasionally being cooperative with my… desires,” he said, “So you’d have plenty of time to yourself. I didn’t put in anything that would force you to do anything too unsavory with me.”
Though he certainly would have liked to be more pushy in that department, he knew going too far could result in the kind of hate fueled relationship Valentino and Angel Dust shared. He honestly didn’t have the energy to have that much drama in his own life. Good night, he could hardly handle the drama that was in his life now. Besides, he was sure you’d come around willingly, even if it took a few centuries.
You glared at him as he finished speaking, as if to say, how generous of you.
From inside his vest, he pulls out the contract and holds it out to you.
“So, we have a deal?” he asked.
You sit up and take the paper, still avoiding his eyes. You seem to be reading it over, though your hold on it is lazy.
“… This still says you can fuck me at least once a week if you want to, or else I’m not allowed to leave the building,” you said, “Did you really think I wasn’t going to notice shit like that?”
He laughed a bit awkwardly.
“I mean, I did say I would like you to be at least a little cooperative,” he said, crossing his legs, “We could wait a little while if you’d like. I mean, you’d still have more freedom than you do now, even with that minuscule restriction. You should know by now that I’m a patient man.”
You stare at it again, forehead wrinkled.
“You know what… I see where you’re coming from,” you said, finally making eye contact, “Tic for tac, eh?”
“That’s a crude way for you to put it,” he said.
You shrug.
“Crude or not, it’s the truth,” you said, a sardonic smirk appearing on your face, “You want me to give a little to get a little.”
Before he could say anything you hold up your hands with more energy than he’s seen you have in days.
“No, no, no! I understand. I’ve been in hell long enough to know how people like you work. I get where you’re coming from, I really do. I’m not stupid! So trust me, I’m being completely serious when I say that I think you should take this lovely contract of yours and shove it up your glowing blue ass!” you ripped it in half on the last word, your smile still present but a nasty look in your eyes.
Vox felt his eye twitch as you continued to smirk at him, tossing the paper at him like you would throw trash across the room. You then lie back down and turn back to the TV, ignoring him again as if the last few minutes hadn’t even happened at all. Though you were attempting to pull your face back into the blank expression of earlier, he could see in your eyes a mixture of emotion, rage, yes, but also a certain smugness. What, did you really think you were tough shit for mouthing off to him like that?
He felt like his head was going to explode. Before he even registered how he was reacting, he had grabbed you by the hair and was pulled you back over.
“Ow! What the hell are you doing, Vox?” you yelled, the smug look gone from your eyes, “You’re hurting me!”
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you? I’m trying to be generous to you because I actually like you, but you know what? I’ve clearly spoiled you rotten already!” he fumed.
He was practically seeing red as he dragged you over, causing you to yelp. You try to kick him, but he only grabs onto your ankle and pulls you closer to him, spinning you around so that you were pressed against the back of the couch, his arms on either side of you. His fingers are still gripping your hair, forcing you to turn your head towards him.
“You know, you’re right, who needs a contract?” he said, “I can do whatever the hell I want with you, and what are you going to do about it?”
Your voice cracked as you attempted to speak, but he didn’t pay any attention to what you were trying to say. He could feel his systems overloading with the amount of rage he was feeling, shouting over you.
“I hope you like the view from up here, because you’re staying here for the rest of your miserable eternal exist. You can work and live here 24/7,” he said, “Anything else we should change in the arrangement? You didn’t like the idea of fucking me once a week? Fine by me. Why not once a day? Twice a day? Every hour? Would you like that better? Huh? Answer me!”
As he finished speaking, he finally heard what you were saying, “-m sorry! I’m sorry, please, stop!
As he heard your pleading, he felt himself being brought back down to earth. While his rage was still present, your begging brought him back to reality, and it was finally registering how upset you were. Hysterical. Terrified. You were sobbing, more afraid of him than he had ever seen you, even on the worst days of your fighting.
“D-d-don’t hurt me. I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry! Please, don’t hurt me!”
He released your hair with a rapid exhale, and you automatically moved your head away from him, arms shielding your face. Shaking, it was sinking in just emotionally distraught you were, as well as the damage he had done to the couch. He hadn’t even noticed he had been digging his claws into the polyester, a row of gnashes beside your head. The situation was completely getting out of control. He pushed himself off of you and turned away. He didn’t even say anything, just left the room and went through the wires to his office. His head was overheating, and he was going to crash at this rate if he didn’t calm down.
Damn it! He hated how out of control you made him feel. It was pathetic. There was only one other person he could think of that made him get near as frustrated as he was feeling with you at the moment. He wasn’t the kind to act out, and here he was acting almost as ridiculous as his business partner did. The only saving grace was that Vox at least tried to keep his infatuation as quiet and private as possible.
It was more than his emotional irregularity though. The fact that he felt this way at all about you was humiliating. Affection, fondness, it was a weakness, and he knew it. Valentino got away with just having simple lust and taking what he wanted, but genuine affection demanded gentleness and tenderness. It was beyond him just not being able to do as he pleased with you, he didn’t want to. He wanted you to come to him willingly. It was the thing holding him back from just hypnotizing you into his arms or using a “love” potion, and now he had probably set any progress towards your affection back significantly.
He rubbed his forehead, which was starting to cool down a little. What was going on up there? He was going to end up doing something rash, something he regretted, if he didn’t get things under control and under control fast. Something needed to be done, but he didn’t know what. Nothing had gone how he had wanted it to. He would need to rethink his approach.
---
You spent a long time shaking on the couch, arms and blanket wrapped around you, crying. You were an idiot. Clearly your brain was turning to mush just sitting around the house all day. Did you actually think you’d be able to get away with speaking like that to an Overlord of Hell?
There had to be a way out of this place. Had to. But the more you thought about it, the more impossible it felt. Even if you did manage to get out of the building in one piece, Vox had this entire city under constant watch. Every corner of Pentagram City was crawling with his tech and media. It would take minutes if not seconds for him to find you and bring you back by force. At this point, maybe you should just sign a contract with the douchebag. Surely, he’d get bored of you eventually, right? Maybe if you got lucky he’d even get killed off one of these days in an extermination, and you’d be off the hook completely.
But how long would that take? Decades? A century or two? What if he never tired of you? Eternal death or not, you didn’t want to spend that much time living and sleeping with some psycho you hated. No. That wasn’t an option. You weren’t going to do that. But what then? You had thought he was going to literally rip your head off just a few minutes ago for telling him no. You were pretty sure things weren’t going to get less volatile around here if you kept rejecting him.
You wiped at your tear soaked face with a tissue and tossed it across the room. It’s light material just sent it floating to the ground though. It looked as pathetic as you felt.
“Damn it,” you cursed, smashing your head into a throw pillow and lying back down, “I hate this fucking place.”
#yandere x reader#vox#vox x reader#yandere vox#yandere hazbin hotel#Eh I can't believe I wrote this and actually published it for people to read.
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toothache- a joel miller x reader fan fic
note: hello friends :) this is my first fan fic in a loooong time, and i've been quite inspired by all the lovely joel miller fics i have been reading lately. he's a character i find pretty... alluring. (hehehehe.) it's been quite some time since i've written anything about a fictional character so i hope you all enjoy. any tips, criticism, advice, comments, etc. are always welcomed, so feel free to say anything!
summary: after two long years apart, a failed relationship, and a wasted engagement ring, you and joel reunite at a family christmas party. old feelings come up, arguments ensue, and you somehow end up naked beneath him.
rating: 18+, "mature content" as the kids say, mdni!
word count: 5ish thousand
warnings: no use of y/n, female reader, dbf!joel, big phat huge giant slutty age gap (you pretty much decide, no specific ages actually mentioned, but obvs reader has been legal their entire relationship), no outbreak!au, daddy issues, reader has a bit of an outburst, mentions of christianity, reader is hit by their father once, a delicious bit of angst littered about occasionally, reader just got out of a relationship, childfree!joel, daddy issues, guilt, cocky arrogant charming!joel, a few catty arguments, joel and reader have a PAAAAST, SHMUT (PiV, unprotected sex, creampie, f and m receiving oral, daddy kink, dirty talk, pet names, ehhh i think i got it all.)
Beneath the canopy of glimmering Texas stars, a blanket of dark solitude rested upon your covered shoulders. This night, a chilling, nippy Thursday evening half past eight, was much more calming than most. The wind howled sweetly in the distance, accompanied by the fluttering shake of oak leaves, crisp with the oranges of autumn, browning and crisping at the edges like an overbaked pie crust.
Looking in through the dusty, fogged windows of your childhood home, you saw your mother pacing about, hanging up tinsel and elaborate ornaments throughout the living room, muttering what you could only imagine would be prayers as she dealt with the stress of party planning. Your father sat on a leather arm chair, legs crossed atop the mahogany table, flipping through the channels like a drone, his zombie crusted eyes glazed over with the promise of mindless watching.
The annual Christmas party your parents held religiously each year was tomorrow, Friday the 22nd, at exactly 6PM. You had flown in from the city you had managed to settle in almost three days ago, and were met with all the reasons you had left Austin in the first place. An aggressive and brutal father, a critical mother, and a wallpaper stained room full of regret, slathered with the oil of guilt. Your bedsheets reminded you of him, your pillows were fluffed with images of his graying curls, and the sight of your carpet made your knees burn with the thought of all the times he had you kneel before him.
His hands, rough and calloused by long days working on his truck, contracting out his skills, fixing sinks and mowing lawns for the neighbors. Long fingers leaving trail marks and imprints red with the burn of lust, rough lips that had memorized each part of your neck, your shoulders, your thighs, your collarbones. Your cotton sheets still smelled like him. Like waves of vanilla bergamot wafting through an amber forest, like a night full of sweet promises and well-kept secrets.
Deep down you knew you shouldn't be thinking about him. Especially not right after a breakup. A breakup with the man you had planned to marry. Some mornings you could still feel the weight of the now lost diamond atop your ring finger, somedays you could still smell the citrus of his shampoo, feel the smoothness of his kisses. But he wasn't Joel.
Joel.
You knew it was wrong. You knew you shouldn't have closed your eyes and imagined him, especially not while being fucked by another. But for some reason, some reason completely unknown and foreign to you, you just couldn't burn his image, his taste, his scent from your memory. Whether your ex-fiancé would climb on top of you, take you from behind, lay beneath you- whatever it was he did- you couldn't shake Joel fucking Miller from your head.
"Tha's it, babydoll." A guttural groan seared through your ears like the heavy bass of a song, engulfing your senses with the high burning flames of pride that his praise so often left you feeling. "S'good for daddy."
Joel watched with darkening eyes as your tongue swirled along the tip of his head, licking the precum that leaked from his thick, twitching cock. His fingers had stitched themselves within the yarn of your hair, pulling and guiding you exactly where he wanted you to go. But Joel didn't have to do that much. Oh, no. Not with you. It was as if you were apart of him, as if you knew exactly what he wanted, right when he wanted it. Like you could read his mind. His thoughts were yours to swim through just as much as they were his.
You stared up at him with big doe eyes and, unbeknownst to him, eyes full of adoration. All you wanted was to please him. All you wanted was to taste his cum and feel his love. All you wanted was him. Every day, every night, every morning, every holiday. And although you were young, you were certainly not naive, and you knew why Joel snuck in through your window at night. Not for love, not for deep conversation, not for peace. When he sought you out, he wanted to partake in carnal sin with you. Joel wanted to lick your skin and taste your passion, he wanted to swallow your moans and take you like a wild animal, hungry for a taste of your sweet, devilish nectar.
You gulped thickly in the dead silence of night, staring up at the crescent moon. Thoughts of him filled you dreadfully full to the brim, and all the guilt from the nights you spent dreaming of him and not the man you were supposed to marry, came bubbling up to the surface, choking you. In the end, it was the reason you left your clueless, heartbroken fiancé. You could no longer lie to yourself, you could no longer go about with the it is what it is mindset.
As the night darkened with swirls of purple and navy, and the air grew colder with December chills, you decided it was finally time to go inside. When you got in bed you were met by the absence of his warmth, by the longing for his touch, the smell of his skin, the linger of his fingers. You fell asleep to thoughts of him, dreaming of what once was.
_______
The living room of your old home had been transformed into a winter wonderland full of crimson and gold, the smell of mulled wine and freshly baked bread thick in the air. A crackling fire raged on in the fireplace, filling the room with a warmth not usually found within their walls, and guests were strung about on couches talking, leaning against walls and flirting, and some lingered about the kitchen taste-testing your mother's newest creations.
You wore a simple red dress with black tights and a matching cardigan that would just not stay up on your shoulders, blending in with everyone else for the most part. Your makeup was done, hair perfect, jewelry secured- everything that played a vital role to look presentable at a function held by your parents, you had made sure to do. There was no use in upsetting them, not after the anger and resentment they threw at you when you broke up with that dear sweet boy they thought was just much too good for you.
You rolled your eyes at the thought.
There was a heavy knock on the door that it seemed only you heard, the radio to your left playing a mix of vintage Christmas music you had had memorized since you were a little girl. Setting down the glass of wine, you made your way to the front, slowly opening the door.
A slap in the face of that delicious, panty soaking cologne threw you for a loop. You didn't have to look up from the broad, flannel covered chest to know exactly who it was. Your legs were already shaking, mouth already watering. Yet, despite this, anger drummed within your chest, tugging at your heart with its gnarled, sharpened claws.
Your eyes flicked up to meet his own. Those honeyed orbs that reminded you of the earth after a fresh rain, deep and knowing and mysterious and.... perfect. Always so perfect, so beautiful.
"Joel Miller." You stated, much more plainly than you thought you could ever muster.
"Well hello there darlin'. Long time no see." He purred so sweetly you would have missed the sarcasm if you weren't properly listening. A shit eating smirk tugged at his lips, hidden behind the dark moustache you had become well acquainted with many moons ago. "You sure look pretty. Did ya' miss me?"
A tight clench to your jaw caused your teeth to hurt, nostrils flaring with the heat of aggravation. Your body deceived you, crying out for his touch. It didn't forget all those orgasms he gave you, all those marks he left. How could it?
"No. I did not." You finally lied right through your teeth, cementing your fate in the fiery pits of hell as you grudgingly allowed him to enter.
Joel still towered over you menacingly, and it made your thighs press against themselves. He stared at you, long and hard, taking you in like a drunkard scanning the liquor aisle. "No ring?" He finally spoke.
"No. I left him."
He sniggered, raising an eyebrow. "Probably 'cause you were thinkin' about me too much."
"Just go get some beer, talk to my dad, and leave me alone!" You finally snarled, narrowing your eyes at him. Joel raised his hands in silent defense, shot you a wink, and left you standing in the foyer like a dumb, lost fool.
All night you tried to avoid him. Despite this pact you made with yourself, your eyes always managed to wander towards him, and he always managed to catch you staring. He never approached you about it, he just tilted his lips in a smirk and went right back to whatever conversation he was apart of, nursing a dripping bottle of Modelo, with that damned smirk never leaving.
It wasn't until dinner was being served that you noticed your place card settled right beside his. Great. You groaned.
"It's too late to change places now. You should have told me earlier." Your mother scolded you for your audible discomfort, setting down the casserole dish of sweet potatoes. "Next year, tell me in advance. Instead of waiting last minute and moping about!"
"Yes ma'am." You muttered.
A group of men walked in discussing football amongst themselves, and the remaining chairs were soon full of their laughter and conversation. Joel sat down beside you, smoothing out his jeans with those perfectly roughed up hands. You glanced down at them, tracing his knuckles and nail beds with your eyes. You began chewing on your lower lip, and he had no doubt what you were thinking of.
"Betcha' missed these hands. Hmm?" His voice was so quiet, only you could hear. "These fingers, too."
"You are the most arrogant fucking man in the entire universe, Joel Miller. Has anyone ever told you that?"
His eyes lit up with delight. You stared into them, old memories and feelings you had tried to suppress rushing to the forefront of your mind. The sting of guilt filled your heart. "You jus' did, darlin'." You groaned again, quietly this time, and your ears twitched in annoyance at the sound of his sly chuckle.
"Let's say grace." Your father held out his hands, that fake smile of his stretched out across his face, painfully taut and insincere. He wore a pitiful clown mask. Always had.
You took the hand of the person to your left, someone your mother used to know from a Bible study, and with an annoyed eye roll, grabbed Joel's hand to your right rather brutally. The roughness of his palm felt warm and familiar, and Joel took note of how your legs squeezed together at the initial contact.
"Our father..." Your own began, and you slowly turned to face Joel.
His tongue swiped across his lower lip, his eyes shut as he did his best to listen to the falsehoods your father peddled, about family and togetherness and the giving season of Christmas, and so on so forth.
But Joel wasn't stupid.
He felt your gaze burning holes right through him, and had no problem cracking open an eyelid to meet your line of sight. Your cheeks burnt with embarrassment, and you quickly looked away, too nervous, too scared, too everything to meet those chocolate orbs again.
His thumb circled itself across your knuckles, the rough pad of his digit igniting a fire within you, and you felt his arm slowly moving your entwined hands down towards your thigh. You didn't stop him. How could you? He let go of your grasp, his fingers digging into the fabric of your sheer tights, lifting your dress up ever so slightly. His short nails danced across your skin, lightly tracing shapes and letters against it. Slowly crawling higher, higher, higher....
"- We love you, our good and almighty Father. Amen."
Joel took his hand away, and no one was the wiser.
No one except you. You cleared your throat quietly, beginning to pass around the fresh, steaming food to those nearest of you.
For a while you stared at your plate. Honeyed ham, whipped potatoes, sauteed green beans, crisp broccoli. None of it sounded good. You poked around with your fork, chewing on your lip as you mindlessly paid attention to the conversation bustling around you. Joel was immersed in a conversation with your father about the NHL or NFL, you didn't know because you didn't really care, and your mother was laughing with her friends about shared nail salon stories and talks of their husbands.
"You know, our daughter could have had a husband by the New Year." Your mother finally said, pointing the rim of her wineglass towards you. The blood colored liquid sloshed against the transparent glass, dribbling down the side like falling tears.
Looking up from your plate, you faked a smile. "Yep. Could've."
"Can you believe this girl, Joel?" Your father finally spoke, shoving a fork full of casserole into his wide mouth. "He was perfect, really. Polite, hard working, on his way to law school. Apparently she doesn't know what's good for her." He was practically guffawing, his eyes rolling with each syllable.
Joel turned, looking at you. His brows were knitted together, lips slightly parted, and he looked at you with a curiosity you had not seen him show before. You cleared your throat once more, finally taking a bite of your potatoes and steering away from his burning gaze.
"You're right, dad. I don't know what's good for me."
"When I was her age, phew..." Your mother wiped the fake sweat from her brow, her friends joining her in a choir of laughter. "Let me just tell you, I never would have let a catch like that go. He was so handsome, too."
"Why'd you even leave him, anyways? You never did tell us. Your poor mother was up all night crying when you finally broke the news."
You dropped your fork with a loud clang against the porcelain of your mother's finest China, shrugging your shoulders with an exasperated groan. "You know, I don't really know. I guess I just felt like it!" You lied, your tone dripping with annoyance, soaked with the familiar hiss of sarcasm. "I guess- well you know me- my tiny little female brain can't possibly comprehend what's good for me!" Abruptly, you stood up from the dining room table, narrowing your eyes.
"Don't talk to your father like-"
"You want to know why I really left him, pops? Are you dying to know?"
His cheeks had puffed up like the chest of a mating bird, eyes darkening dangerously quick as he stared daggers into your soul, praying and hoping you would keep talking. Anything for an excuse to have a go at you. "Why?" His voice was low, yet still inquisitive.
"Because the only time I could cum was if I was thinking about another man. Are you happy now? He couldn't please me. He was lazy. Annoying. Li-"
Whack.
Right across the face. A searing hot poker branding your cheek with a hefty, molten, angry slap. His tongue swiped the inside of his cheek, yellowing teeth gritting against themselves so hard you could have sworn you heard a crack. He had his finger pointed, ready to pull the trigger and unleash a spew of cusses and shouts your way, before he was stopped by Joel's deep, anger laden voice.
"Hey!" Joel had jumped up on his feet with lightning fast reflexes, and the room had gone eerily quiet. "Come on now, man. That ain't how we treat ladies." He had grabbed your elbow to help steady you, your head dizzy and eyes clouded with prickling tears. Your father shot daggers at you, paid barely any mind to Joel, and stormed out of the room, steam bellowing from his ears.
Joel looked at your mom, the deep crease settling in against his forehead. "I'll help clean 'er up. Jus' stay here and enjoy the rest of your dinner." He managed a charming smile despite the anger brewing inside the tightness of his chest, and you walked alongside him as he led the way to your room.
Your room.
Joel found the lingering scent of vanilla and tobacco candles filtering in through his nostrils, the familiarity transporting him back to nights dripping with the silver hue of the moon, the softness of your skin and the swirling of your tongue heavy at the forefront of his memories. It reminded him of your gaze, hungry and devilish, the sharpness of your incisors biting into his skin as he took you hard, as he took you rough, as he made you his. The whisper of your sweet voice, the feeling of your chest against his, the way you made him dizzy with the addicting high of desire.
Now is not the time. Not now, while you held your cheek and stared angrily at your wall, tears of both resignation and resentment pooling, your mascara flaking by the corners of your eyes. He felt a bit like a horned up asshole, admittedly.
Joel crouched in front of you. His jeans spread tight against the thickness of his thighs, the top buttons of his flannel unbuttoned, giving you access to the golden hue of his chest. Now is not the time, you thought to yourself. Not when you wanted to be angry at him, not when you craved to push him away.
"You are the last person I need taking care of me." You snarled. "I-I-" A hiccup erupted from your mouth, a shaky sob leaving you. You were embarrassed by the fact you had crumbled so quickly. "Just leave. Like.... like you did the last time."
"The last time?" He spoke incredulously. "Is your brain workin' properly?" You stared bitterly in his direction, arms now crossed over your chest. "I don't know if you remember, but you're the one that left me."
You sat in silence, top lip curling with confusion. "I asked if you wanted to come with me..."
"To some fancy city hundreds'a miles away from my home? Just up an' startin' a completely new life? That's what you were askin' me to do, babydoll. It was you who decided to leave." His fingers found their way to your knees, his voice calm yet firm. He gave them a tight squeeze, letting you know he was there, that he was present, that he wasn't planning on letting go.
"Are you blind? Did you not just see what happened out there?" You sniffled, wiping your runny nose on the sleeve of your black cardigan. You didn't push his grip away, not when it felt so warm, so good. "I had to leave, Joel."
"If you woulda asked, instead of running off all impatient like ya' did, I would've taken us somewhere. Southwest.... Dallas, maybe. I-I haven't put much thought into it." A complete lie. Even Joel couldn't convince himself of that.
Oh, he had thought of it alright. Day and night, when all he had was his right hand to keep him company, when you were far away sleeping with that kid who wasn't him. For the first time in his life, he had found himself feeling jealous. Jealousy caused by a woman he had no business being so fond, so infatuated, so in love with. A part of him felt ridden with guilt, unsure of the implications your relationship had. The other part didn't give a flying fuck.
"You.... you really would’ve?" Your voice was quiet, barely a whisper. Joel felt his heart tight against his chest. It hurt for you.
All he did was nod.
"And I-and I left you!" You wailed into your hands, falling against his chest. "I fucked it all up!"
"Shh." He held you quietly, his heavy palm rubbing circles into your lower back, gently thumbing the fabric every so often. "S'alright, now. I'm here. I've got you, babydoll."
"I can't even imagine how you felt." You mumbled into his ear, your fingers finding a stray curl behind it. "Knowing I was off with some idiot." A thick stutter of breath got caught in your throat, your nose still sniffling. "I thought of you everyday."
Joel nodded against your head. "I know, I know you did."
"Now is not the time for your ego-"
He cut you off. "I know, because I did too. And me and you? Well, I always thought we were entwined. One in the same. Same typa' fabric, or cloth or.... somethin'."
You pulled away, blinking slowly. "Are you being romantic with me?"
He nodded slowly.
You weren't quite sure what to do, you just stared at the man before you, heart pounding, eyelids fluttering. He moved his hand higher up your leg until he reached your waist, tightly holding it. His fingers grasped into your skin, gently keeping you in place for his eyes only. Joel savoured your presence, taking in every inch of you that he hadn't seen for what felt like a lifetime.
"Will you get up here... with-...." you trailed off for a moment, slightly worried, "-with me?"
"I was startin' to think you'd never ask." He climbed up on the bed, leaning his back against the headboard. Joel pat his hands on his lap, beckoning you to come closer and take a seat on him.
"Maybe.... take those off?" You pointed to his jeans, chewing on the inside of your cheek. A smirk graced his mouth, and he nodded in silent agreement, quickly kicking off his worn leather boots and denim jeans. You settled down on his lap, legs on each side of him as you straddled his waist, nose to nose with him.
You had always adored his nose. Slightly curved, with a beautiful bridge that ever so slightly jutted out. Joel was the most handsome man you had ever seen, and you had seen many men. The crows feet by his eyes had deepened since the last time you saw him, and his curls had been salted with more strands of white. His cheeks were scruffy with prickly facial hair, but his thick moustache had always remained the same. You gently ran your finger across it, setting your palm against his cheek.
He leaned closer to you, fingers brushing a few stray hairs away, before planting his lips against yours in a deep, sensual kiss. Your stomach awakened with butterflies, fluttering and kicking against your rib cage, before all you could taste or smell was Joel.
Joel, Joel, Joel.
That's all you heard in your mind.
Joel's fingers crept towards the heat of your middle, and he let out a deep grunt of frustration when he realized you still had on your pantyhose. It didn't take long for him to quite literally rip them off, setting you back down on his lap as he held you tight and close, almost fearful of letting go. His thick finger traced down the middle of your cotton underwear. Joel felt the wetness pooling at the front, and he smiled a genuine smile against your mouth.
All for me, he thought to himself.
"Look at me."
You pulled away, his lips now stained like cherries from your lipstick, his hair slightly disheveled and out of place. He took a hard swallow, gently running his hand down the side of your face, burying it in your hair.
"Let me make you feel good."
You nodded quickly, falling back on the softness of your mattress.
He peeled your cardigan off, followed by your dress and his own shirt, and you were left with nothing but your mismatched bra and panties, a picture of perfection laid out before him. His hands trailed down your belly, its supple softness a stark contrast to the well-worked leather of his aging hands.
Joel slightly shook his head. "You're so beautiful." He leaned down, planting a kiss to your stomach, his chin resting on your cloth covered mound. "But you already knew that." You giggled softly to yourself, rolling your eyes as you gently cupped his head in your hand.
"If I didn't before, I certainly do now."
He fingered his digits through the hem of your underwear, quickly discarding them and throwing them off to the side. "Ain't she a 'beaut..... now that's somethin' I've not seen for quite some time." He pushed your legs apart gingerly, face to face with your pink, glistening pussy, open and laid bare for his eyes only. You saw the thirst swirling around in the orbs of his eyes.
Joel circled your swollen clit with the tip of his index finger before gently pushing it into your opening, smiling to himself as he heard your wetness. A quiet moan escaped you, and you gently brushed your thumb against the corner of his eye, staring down at him.
He was so handsome. So handsome. That's all you could think of as his fingers continued their much welcomed exploration of the folds of your labia. Joel relished in the slick coat of your glistening arousal on his fingers, and he felt his jaw tighten with a mouth watering craving for the sweet taste of your cum in his mouth.
He couldn't hold back anymore.
He leaned forward, wrapping his lips around your throbbing clit. It elicited a long moan from your lips as you tried your hardest to remain quiet, your stupid family’s Christmas party still playing its scenes just outside your door. Joel swirled the tip of his tongue against your button, his big hands holding your thighs in place.
"Oh, Joel." You mewled quietly, fingers knotting themselves in his hair. "Right there baby, right there."
He hummed against the folds of your pussy, tracing shapes with his tongue, altering between slow and quick, soft and hard. He knew just what you liked, just what you wanted from him, and he had no problem entertaining your wishes.
Joel pulled away, pushing his middle and ring finger inside your entrance, its tightness engulfing him right up to the knuckle. He groaned, knowing how good you felt stretched out on his cock like the good girl you always were, always had been, for him.
"Jus' like this, darlin'?" He muttered, already knowing the answer. Your eyes met his, as he slowly pressed up against the spot he knew made you go crazy.
"Mmhm." You whimpered, holding his curls even tighter. "Need to cum, Joel."
"Ask nicely, baby. Where are your manners?"
"Please. Please. I want you to cum for you, daddy."
"That's better." Joel growled a primal growl deep in the confines of his throat, leaning back down and sucking your clit into his mouth.
If there was one thing Joel loved without a doubt in this life, it was eating your pussy. He loved pushing his nose into your clit while he fucked your folds with his tongue, he loved overstimulating it after a particularly violent and shattering orgasm, he loved teasing it with feather light touches. He loved feeling you squirm, hearing you whimper, listening to his name like a prayer on your lips. You chanted his name like he was your God, your savior, your protector. You chanted his name like it was the only name you had ever learned. And by God did it get him riled up.
Joel shoved his tongue further inside of you, tasting your sweetness, lapping it up like a dog who had just found water after days of searching.
"Damn honey, gonna give me a fuckin' toothache with the way you taste. So fuckin’ sweet. So good.” His voice was raspy with desire, fingers fucking you deep and hard, your clit trembling between his lips.
"Oh, God.... oh, daddy."
"Tha's it, babydoll. You gonna cum for me?"
"Oh!" You cried out softly as his fingers pressed against your g-spot, his tongue swirling across your clit steadily and firmly. You were on the brink now, right at your breaking point. He kept up the sameness of his movements, repeating each step as perfectly as the last. It only took a few blinks, and waves of pleasure came rushing across your body, flooding all your senses as your ears rang with your first proper orgasm in God only knows how long.
"Daddy, daddy, Joel, oh-fuck me-Jesus, oh, God." You had no wits about you, blabbering and muttering like a fool, clawing at his scalp and pulling his hair until his eyes burnt.
Joel pulled away from your clit and placed the flat of his tongue against your folds, slowly licking you from bottom to top, before his mouth rested on your sensitive button once more. He planted a deep kiss against it, making sure he didn't miss an ounce of your dribbling cum.
"Was that nice?" He asked smugly, his facial hair coated and shimmering with your juices. He already knew the answer his question would elicit, he just liked being a bastard sometimes.
"Mhmm." Was all you could manage.
Your eyes wandered down to his remarkably tight boxers, his bulge tenting up against the fabric. "Fuck me." You whispered. "Please."
"So polite." His voice was like a purr, and he shot a cocky smile your way. "Yeah, I'll fuck you alright. Daddy's gonna make that pussy feel real nice." His deep Southern drawl sent shivers down your spine, his voice so deep and raspy. All man, Joel Miller.
He climbed on top of you, his arms on each side of your head, cradling your face as he looked down at you. Your gazes met, and a lovesick smile broke across your face. "God, I missed you."
Joel had to strain his ears to hear you properly. "I missed you." He admitted in turn.
He grinded against you, his boxers coated in your arousal. You felt the thickness of his cock pressing deeper into you, and your moans of want, no- of need- were all that filled his ears. "Want me to fuck that lil' pussy?"
"Please. Please, daddy."
"Don't think I'm gonna go easy on ya' just because it's been a while." He chuckled into the crook of your neck as he pulled his boxers down, his dick springing out with a gentle slap against your thigh.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"That's my girl." The head of his dick was pressed against your entrance, and he met your forehead with his own. Your noses melded together, lips brushing against the other, and Joel pushed in with one swift motion.
You couldn't help but gasp. "Jesus Christ. Feels so good, Joel."
"You're so fuckin' tight."
Your nails gently dug into his shoulders at the sound of his voice. Deep, guttural, primal. His eyes were blinded with archaic desire, lip caught between his teeth as he watched your face with every thrust, every twitch. Joel thought you looked perfect beneath him. A portrait of angelic beauty, for his eyes only. Smooth skin, a dazzling smile, eyes full of emotion reserved just for him- he felt like the luckiest man in the world, getting to take you just like this. His thumb swiped a strand of hair that had strayed away from your scalp, and he nuzzled his prickly cheek against yours, causing a faint burning sensation that felt too good to pull away from.
“Joel?” You muttered quietly into his shoulder, your fingers cascading down the center of his broad shoulders.
“Y’okay babydoll?”
“Joel, I-” Your forthcoming soliloquy was cut off by a moan from the back of your throat, and your fingers grasped ahold of his curls even tighter, his face scrunching up with a pained wince. “Sorry. I-”
Joel’s thrusts were deep, hard, slow, he hit every spot he knew made you shiver, every spot he knew made you drool and gasp for him. He loved watching your face contort with pleasure, the way your eyes would go wide and nostrils flare with every deep breath, the way your tits looked as your chest inflated with gasps of air.
“What was that?” His words were laced with smugness. He was making you feel this good. He was. Joel Miller was the luckiest man in the world, getting to fuck your pretty pussy.
“I just wanted to say- I- Oh!” His cock twitched inside of you, and you could feel his own orgasm soon approaching. “I just wanted to say thank you.” Followed by a whimper that made Joel’s stomach twist with some fancy feeling he hadn’t felt for quite some time.
“For?” He muttered between each thrust, eyebrows knitted tightly together as he focused on his movements, one of his hands holding himself up, the other buried against your head, warm beneath the comfort of your hair.
“Everything. What you did for me earlier, oh-oh! Mmm. Yeah, right there. And-and how you take care of me. How you make me feel.”
Joel nuzzled his forehead closer to your own, eyes dead set on the other, lips brushing together. You felt his fingers gripping tighter, teeth clenched, eyebrows tightly together. For a moment you wondered if you shouldn’t have said what you said, or perhaps waited until a better time, but Joel quickly relieved you of the negative thoughts creeping in, and kissed you with a fervent passion he didn’t know was inside of him.
You moaned against his mouth, tugging at his curls, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he kept his pace.
“Makin’ me blush.” Joel groaned out once he pulled away, nodding a bit as if he were giving himself an internal pep talk before continuing his speech. “Thank you for lettin’ this old fool take care of you.” You giggled softly, shaking your head in disapproval.
“You’re not an old fool.” Peppering his face in soft, gentle kisses of affection, you laid your head back down and stared up at him. “You’re just old.”
Joel rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t matter how old I am, darlin’. Still gonna make you cum for me.”
You let out a soft moan at his promise, feeling his hand snake down to your pussy once again. His middle finger began tracing circles in your sensitive clit, wet and welcoming as he filled you up to the hilt with his thick cock. He had never felt something so good, so sweet. He figured he must have been the luckiest man in the world, and he knew he was an idiot to have willingly let you go so many moons ago. Joel figured he could have saved you from a lot of heartbreak and restless nights.
Your walls clenched tightly around him, and you felt that familiar sensation of an oncoming high brewing within your stomach. “Gonna cum, daddy. Gonna cum for you.”
“Yeah? You gonna cum all over this dick? Like the good girl you are?”
That did your head in. That was the final nail in the coffin. You had to bite down on his shoulder, hard, to muffle the sounds of your orgasm, your pussy contracting against his dick as he rode you through your orgasm, making sure to hit that spot as he did so.
It wasn’t long until you felt his own orgasm coming in the form of sloppy pushes and muffled grunts. Sweat had started beading up at his forehead, stray curls sticking down in every which way, and you held his face in your hands as you watched the emotion enter and leave his masculine, solemn features. There was nothing quite like watching him finish inside you. His jaw would clench, his forehead would wrinkle, and his eyes would always meet yours as he pushed his nose into your cheek, whispering your name like it was a promise. And this time was no different.
Joel held you tight, stuck to you like glue as his orgasm washed through him, and when it faded away he was still holding you against his hot, sweaty chest, hands in your hair and mouth on your neck.
“Oh, Joel.” You murmured, brushing his hair back.
There was a long moment of silence as he caught his breath. Finally, he spoke:
“Let me take you away from here.”
Swallowing a thick lump that had been forming in the back of your throat, you propped yourself up on your elbows and looked at him curiously. “Right…. right now?”
“I should’ve done it two years ago. I should’ve…. should’ve known what was goin’ on. If I knew he hit you like that-”
“It isn’t your fault, Joel. I shouldn’t have….” Taking in a shaky breath, you scooped his hand into your own. “Take me anywhere you want. Anywhere in the world, and I’ll be by your side through it all.”
Joel looked at you with a glimmer in the darkness of his eyes, and in that moment he knew just what he had to do. He would move mountains for you if it meant keeping you safe, he’d climb Mount fucking Everest if he had to, and in that second your eyes met, he promised himself harm would never, ever come to you again.
In the silver light of the moon that came swirling in through the transparent curtains of your room, he had never seen you look so beautiful. He knew he was in love, as your big eyes stared up at him, full of hope and adoration. He knew he would do anything it took to take you away from this God forsaken place that had caused you so much harm.
He would be your protector, until the day he died, and no harm would come to you under his watch. As he took your face in his hands and professed his love through deep kisses, that was all he knew. You, and the deep, lovely feeling that you would always be for him and his eyes only.
Oh, if only Joel knew the world would be ending soon.
#pedro pascal#joel miller#joel miller the last of us#tlou fic#joel tlou#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal characters#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller x reader#fan fiction#fan fic writing#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#tlou fanfiction#the last of us fic#joel the last of us#pedro pascal fandom#pedro pascal smut#joel miller smut#smut#tlou smut#tlou series#tlou hbo#pedro pascal x reader
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Dirty Metal Summer
a Dirty Dancing au
masterlist playlist
Part 2: The Hideout
You follow Robin over the resort property line to a place where guests are forbidden and get a glimpse of what goes on behind the scenes.
word count: 3.6k
My blog is 18+ONLY, mature themes, violence, alcohol consumption, eventual smut, fighting, mention of blood, reader is called Bird as a nickname, reader plays the cello. Reader is 21, Eddie is late 20's.
Songs for this chapter:
Animal (fuck like a beast)//W.A.S.P.
No one like you//Scorpions
Mental Health (bang your head)//Quiet Riot
Wasted Years//Iron Maiden
a/n: it has been so much fun to pull this out of the rubble and jump back into this world for a rewrite, I hope you enjoy. To my I'm on Fire peeps, there will be a scene in this chapter that feels very similar to something that happened in IOF, and that's because I originally stole it from this fic, thinking I'd never post it, lmao. Thought about changing it, but it's just too perfect. Plus, there will always be a hint of biker Eddie in all of my Eddies.
Sticking close behind Robin, you crossed the arc of a walking bridge over a creek and disappeared on a worn path through the trees. It was only then that you could finally make out the building where the loud music was coming from.
It had corrugated metal sides and roof, like a structure you might see on a farm that housed large equipment. There was a picnic table out front where a few people were seated, and the shell of a vintage automobile with bullet holes in it sat in the weeds.
A little more than a city block away was a modest cabin made from actual logs with an old truck, a van, and a motorcycle parked out front.
“Who lives there?” You nudged Robin.
She stopped to see where you were looking first, and then, “oh yeah, that’s Wayne’s place. The head maintenance guy. This is his too,” she gestured to the metal building where the music and shouts were coming from. “Both him and his nephew Eddie. Have you met Eddie?”
You absolutely knew who he was, but didn’t want to come off as a stalker, so you shook your head.
The large sliding door entrance to the building was open about a foot, letting out wafts of smoke and a hazy, golden light. From over Robin’s shoulder, you could see quite a few bodies moving around in there, and just then came the sound of a glass breaking.
“Ready?” She smiled back at you, struggling to hold everything in her arms as she reached for the handle to slide the door open the rest of the way.
“Let me?” You lurched forward.
“I got it,” she insisted, fumbling one of the guitars before catching it again with a gasp of relief.
You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting to see when she eased the door open the rest of the way, but a topless woman dancing on a table top was not one of them.
Her hair was bleached blonde, frizzy and teased around her face. She was tan with a prominent bikini line over her pert breasts, and it looked like she’d just pulled the top of her leopard print spandex dress down to give a little show.
The song Animal (Fuck like a beast) by W.A.S.P. was blaring and the guys around the table cheered while the woman flipped her hair and worked her hips in a circle. You were sure you recognized her as one of the waitresses from earlier that night.
Metalheads of all kinds were crowded together, mingling, and you feared that you stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb. Some were in leather; some wore jean vests with pins and patches all over them. A handful had long hair that they must’ve tied back or wore under hats while they worked at the resort, but a few of them, like Steve, kept theirs short and tidy, for the most part. Overhead string lights swayed from high wooden beams, and a chandelier that looked like it was made out of wrenches. An old, pea green Kelvinator refrigerator and a small kitchenette was to your left, as if someone had lived there at one point, and two couches sat against the wall that were mismatched and worn.
Most of the crowd of people seemed to be lingering together in the middle, standing there as if waiting for something. Taking shots, smoking blunts, and making out with each other, blocking you from seeing beyond them.
Robin signaled to follow her, and you were hesitant to start moving through the masses, holding the guitar case flush to your body, feeling like it was something to hide behind. You noticed posters on the walls for bands like Judas Priest and Metallica, and on the concrete floor you saw smudges from white chalk markings, dark splotches the color of dried blood, but that was ridiculous.
You pushed between a girl with a blue mohawk and a guy with a shaved head that was covered in tattoos in a hurry to keep up with your escort, and the two shot you a hard glare. When you could finally see the far wall, there was an oval, threadbare carpet in the corner with a drum kit set up, three microphones, two amps, and some other equipment that suggested live music would soon be happening.
“This is where they practice!” Robin shouted over the music, directing you where to put Eddie guitar down. “We call it The Hideout.”
“'Where who practices?’ You set Eddie’s baby near the wall where she told you to.
“Eddie and Chrissy’s band,” she motioned for you to stand over at the wall with her.
“Oh,” you turned to look at the instruments again, heart flopping a little at the idea he would show up at any moment. “They're playing tonight?”
There was a commotion up ahead and you both turned to look. "Later maybe! The fights are tonight,” again, yelling over the growl of the music. Now the song was No One Like You by Scorpions, and it sounded like people were cheering at someone who’d just come through the door.
“Fights?” You leaned in to get more information when everyone started pushing back to make room for whatever was about to happen. You remembered that one of the guys on the porch earlier that day with Chrissy and Steve had a black eye, and you’d noticed another worker at the resort who had a busted lip, but you hadn’t paused to think that maybe they were somehow connected.
It was then that you saw Eddie appear from out of the sea of bodies, and took a sharp intake of breath, holding it in, afraid to let it out for fear you might whimper.
He was so beautiful, it made you dizzy. You stood up straight, adjusting yourself, covertly checking to make sure you weren’t perspiring too badly.
He was wearing the tux he’d had on for the show earlier, but the tie and cummerbund were both gone, and his white shirt was unbuttoned almost to his stomach. You caught a glimpse of tattoos on his chest, and a necklace of some sort. Someone handed him a beer and he threw back a generous gulp.
“There’s going to be boxing? Here? Tonight?” You were trying to act casual and not stare at him the whole time, but it was hard to tear your attention away.
“Nothing professional,” she scoffed, folding her arms over her chest, putting her shoulder blades against the wall. “Just your average bare knuckle street fighting, basically. The guys were doing it to blow off steam, but then some others got involved and people started placing bets, so a whole thing started.”
Eddie unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and took it off, passing it to someone in the crowd. Your mouth went dry at the sight of his lean muscles under the scattered ink. He kept his hair tied back and started wrapping white tape around one of his hands while Steve said something in his ear.
“How do they choose who fights who?” You were invested now, wringing Robin out for any information she had.
“I don’t know how they figure it out, but the new guys usually fight each other, and then a winner challenges Eddie or Steve or Alex,” she pushed off the wall to get a better look at the center of the room. “But it looks like Eddie is up first.” And then with a smirk she added, “all of the new hotshots at the resort think they can beat Eddie.”
“Can they?” Your voice cracked, eyes locked on the scene. A guy shorter than Eddie but muscular in a football player type of way, was also shirtless in the circle now, with taped hands and wearing a pair of sweats with the name of a university down the leg. The guy was hopping from foot to foot to keep himself hyped up, punching the air in front of him.
“No one beats Eddie,” there was pride in her voice. “Looks like the guy he’s fighting tonight is Lance, one of the new ski instructors. Totally full of himself.”
Steve was wearing a white wife beater and jeans, and he raked a hand through his mop of hair just before pointing in your direction. Eddie’s gaze followed the line of his finger directly to your stunned face, and then it lingered there.
He seemed to contemplate, wetting his lips, and then he nodded to Steve and was on his way over.
He didn’t have to push people out of the way because they were all quick to part to make room for him. It wasn’t long before he was standing right in front of you. You tried not to let your gaze linger on the full curve of his slightly chapped lips, or the way his wavy bangs framed his cherrywood eyes. On closer inspection, you could see that the necklace he wore was a ball chain with a guitar pick hanging from it.
Robin opened her mouth to say something, possibly introduce you, but Eddie cut her off.
“What the hell are you doing here, Princess?” His voice was low with an edge of irritation. He pulled the chunky metal rings off his fingers one by one as he spoke.
Robin cleared her throat, stepping forward. “She’s with me,” she stuttered a bit nervously, knowing full well she shouldn’t have brought you there. “She came with me, she’s cool.”
Eddie collected all of the rings in his fist and kept staring at you as if he wanted to hear it from your mouth, not Robin’s.
Your brain short-circuited for a second and you forgot how to form words when he was so close you could see the detail of the dragon tattoo on his chest. But then, finally, it came to you:
“I-I carried your baby.”
The second it slipped out, you knew how stupid it sounded.
Unblinking, he gave his rings to Robin, and then he was gone.
You stared at the space where he no longer stood, flushed with embarrassment.
��I carried your baby?” You repeated in a whisper, covering your face with your hands.
Someone turned the music down so that Steve’s voice could be heard, and he waved his arms in the air to get everyone’s attention.
“I don’t have to explain the rules to you, because there are none,” his announcement was met with screams and cheers. Robin tugged at your arm, signaling for the two of you to get a bit closer to the action. “First one to hit the ground for whatever reason is the loser. Just fists, no blades or other stupid tricks.”
At one side of the circle of bodies, Lance the ski instructor was practicing some tight punches, and at the other end, Eddie rolled his neck while Chrissy finished taping the knuckles of his other hand. It was then that the chalk and the stains on the concrete you saw earlier made sense.
“You two ready?” Steve put his arm up between them, waiting for their nods, and then, at their signal, he chopped his hand down between them as if he were slicing the air.
Lance was hopping from foot to foot, trying his best to look like some fancy footwork he saw in a Rocky movie, while Eddie walked casually, giving the guy a hooded, bored stare.
Eddie could read Lance like a book. A fight was a lot more than just a mindless throwing of hands, there was a mental prowess and skill needed that a lot of the punks busing in from suburbia did not have. Street smarts was one thing, and Eddie surely had that, but he’d been fighting bullies off since he was a kid, and Wayne taught him to fight like it was a game of chess.
Eddie could tell where Lance was going to go a second before he made the move. He saw the guy was amped up, letting his emotions fight for him, and that was only one of his first mistakes.
Lance charged at him and swung, but Eddie was already steps away; relaxed and agile, holding his guard up. The ski instructor came at him aggressively, again and again, until Eddie pushed him, making his opponent stumble back.
Keeping his form, Eddie caught you standing there out of the corner of his eye.
…what were you doing there at the Hideout?
He let himself ponder that question for too long and Lance was on him again, aiming a left jab to his ribs, and Eddie absorbed the blow with a grunt, arching to the side.
You were not supposed to be there. What was Robin thinking?
Mostly, Brenner and Joyce stayed out of their business, as long as whatever they did was off resort property, but if they found out one of the guests was somehow involved, there would be hell to pay.
Lance charged again and Eddie dodged, angry at himself for not being able to focus .
“C’mon Lance, stomp that freak,” someone yelled from the crowd.
And that was all it took
For Eddie to get tired of dragging it out for betting purposes.
Lance charged forward with a cry and Eddie socked an uppercut into his unsuspecting jaw.
The surfer boy went down
Hard.
Saliva and blood flew from his mouth as he flailed back, arms going ragdoll.
It felt like it happened in slow motion but soon enough, Lance was splayed out like a starfish on the concrete floor.
“Goodnight sweet prince,” Steve said sarcastically as he collected bets over the ski instructor’s limp body.
Robin cheered with her hands over her head, and you gave a few slow claps, your brain barely able to register where you were or what you were seeing.
“You want a beer?” She asked as you watched Lance numbly get to his feet with the help of two friends and attempt to shake it off.
Robin motioned for you to follow her around to the refrigerator which was stocked from top to bottom with nothing but beer cans. She handed you one and then went to lean against the side of the appliance, cracking open the tab with a hiss.
With your back to the crowd, you prepared to follow suit, listening to Steve introduce two more fighters.
But then there was someone at your side,
“Not like that,” a voice said.
Eddie had come up behind you, wearing his white shirt unbuttoned, skin still glistening with sweat. Mental Health (Bang Your Head) by Quiet Riot came over the speakers, eliciting a wave of yelps and screams from the group.
“Wait,” he put his hand on top of yours to keep you from opening your beer while he motioned for another guy to toss him one. You turned to seek comfort or guidance from Robin, but she was absorbed in conversation with a girl in a platinum pixie cut who’d just walked up.
“Like this,” he brushed his bangs to the side, and winked as he fished a ring of keys out of his pocket. He used the serrated metal edge of one to punch a hole at the bottom of the can.
It was the wink that made your skin flush hot, and then your jaw went slack as you watched him wrap his lips around the newly made hole in the can. He made eye contact with you one more time before tipping his head back, and cracking the tab of the beer open with his thumb so that the liquid when squirting down his throat.
The muscles in his throat jerked as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.
It wasn’t three seconds before he lowered his head and crushed the can in his hand to show it was empty. He let out a refreshing, “ahhhh,” and darted his tongue out to lick a droplet from his chin.
You were still holding your unopened beer, waiting for him, mouth dry. “I-I’m not sure I—”
Yes, you knew what shotgunning a beer was, you’d seen it done plenty of times at college parties and in movies, but had never been tempted to try it yourself.
Ignoring your hesitation, Eddie motioned with the crook of his finger for you to come closer. You shuffled to be within reach of him as if your knees were locked in place.
With a gentle touch, fingers brushing yours, he took your beer from you, wiped it off with his shirt, and then proceeded to make the same hole with his key in the aluminum. Some of the beer sprayed up and misted your face.
“Here we go,” he tipped your chin with his finger and butterflies swarmed in your stomach as his eyes searched yours. “Just let it shoot into the back of your throat.”
You swallowed nervously to make sure your throat was working, and then wrapped your lips around the can at his instruction.
“Easy, just like that, hold it there,” Eddie was so close now that your elbow was touching his bare chest. He put a hand on the back of your head. “When I say, tip your head back all the way, and I’ll flip the tab for you.”
You swiped your tongue over the hole in the can, thinking about how embarrassing it would be if you messed it up and beer went shooting out of your nose.
Robin offered a few words of encouragement and you noticed a tendril of hair clinging to the sweat on Eddie’s neck, right over the heartbeat in his throat.
“You ready?”
You weren’t but—-
“Okay, now.”
You closed your eyes, slammed your head back, and prayed, even though you weren’t at all religious. Some lukewarm beer leaked onto your tongue, and then Eddie pulled the tab, keeping one hand over yours to hold the can steady.
The gush of liquid hissed and exploded down your throat, and for a second you thought you would choke, but then your swallowing reflex bolted into action and it was over so fast.
You gasped and swiped beer from your chin when you pulled away to look at the empty can, amazed.
Eddie cupped his warm hand around the back of your neck, and you felt him shift closer until his mouth was at your ear.
“Good girl,” he whispered.
An actual chill ran down your spine.
Robin put up her hand and you gave you a high five. “Not bad for a first timer,” she joked. “Now crush it on your forehead and grunt.”
“Ha. Ha.”
You turned to Eddie, “that was fun maybe he should—”
You were about to say the two of you should do another one,
but he was gone.
—----
The next night, Eddie couldn’t sleep, so he decided to head to the property to finish up some work at the pool house.
The place he shared with Wayne was close enough to walk to the Hawkins Landing property, but that night, he drove. He wanted to roll the window down on the van and blast Wasted Years by Iron Maiden and belt out the lyrics.
He slipped into the parking lot for visitors and employees, turning the music down so that it wouldn’t be heard by any of the nearby cabins. There were two street lamps on, but a third one he noticed was out, and made a mental note that he’d have to get Jamie to fix it tomorrow. The sidewalks along the manicured lawn were also lined with lights that came out of the ground like little mushrooms, and the boat dock far off to his left was lit, but other than that, he was in the dark.
Grabbing his red toolbox from the passenger seat, he put a flashlight in his tool belt holster, and the van door creaked on its hinges just before it banged shut. His ribs still ached from the punch he took the night before, but he only allowed himself to cringe and curse in private. Luckily, his only companions at that moment were the crickets and the lapping of the water against the bank.
It wasn’t until he was a few yards down the sidewalk, head down, lost in thought, that the din of classical music made him halt in his tracks.
It was definitely strings, possibly a violin? No, it was too deep.
He looked up at the main house, but the sound was much too close to be coming from way up there.
He cut to the right and up the grass.
Then he saw the attic light on in cabin #11.
He told himself not to bother, but as the passion of the playing increased, curiosity got the better of him.
He came right up to your driveway, staying half obscured by a tree trunk, and watched you.
The cello, of course that’s what you were playing. He was no expert on the classics, but he’d always learned music by ear and had a unique sense for identifying instruments.
You weren’t reading from sheet music, you were just playing while you stared out at the sky.
Playing something by heart, or making it up as you went along, he wasn’t sure.
In his mind, you were so far out of league, it was criminal.
Your attention broke when a sudden movement down on the road startled you.
The bow zipped clumsily across the strings one last time, and you stood up to get closer to the open window.
But, your eyes must’ve been playing tricks on you.
There was no one there.
-----
Hi hello! thank you so much for reading! For those wondering, this fic will still be centered around music, not boxing, but the little fight club they have has a lot to do with the spin of the plot soon.
thank you all so much for the suppport! we are getting to the juicy parts now! give me those hungry eyes. comments and reblogs are cherished!! like, I live for them.
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taglist: @tlclick73@micheledawn1975@kurdtbean@katethetank@elvendria@spookysqaush86@somethingvicked@stylesxmunson@laurenlokirby@sapphire4082 @kellsck @motherfckerrr @emxxblog @justdamnpeachy @dashingdeb16 @corrodedcoffincumslut @bexreadstoomuch
#Eddie Munson#Eddie Munson series#Dirty Metal Summer#Eddie Munson fic#dirty dancing au#eddie munson x reader
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can i please request a shy bf!timmy with needy and unhinged reader
he‘s just overall really shy, always nervous when he tries to initiate intimacy. reader on the other hand is open about everything, her desire, her masturbation habits and her dirty dirty thoughts. she’s not afraid to let him know the effect he has on her. she’d use it against him, telling him how she‘s going to get herself off when he‘s busy. maybe even nudes, lewd pictures and videos she takes just for him.
Shy Boyfriend-Part One//t.c.
A/N: I’m not going to include specific warnings right now, if you read the anon request, you know that this is filled with smut. It’s quite explicit, so 18+ readers only. Thank you!
Timmy was so sweet, hot, and such a doting boyfriend. But, he was always nervous when it came to sex.
You, on the other hand, wanted it all the time. So, you thought of ways to get him to feel more confident. You wanted him to know that you desired him madly and thought about him day and night. You wanted to do all the dirty things with him. You decided to be completely open and honest with him about your sexual aptitudes.
"I masturbate every day thinking about you." you told him quietly at dinner one night.
Timmy's eyes nearly popped out of his skull, and he looked around, hopeful that no one else in the rather crowded restaurant didn't hear what you had said. "Re-really?" he squeaked.
"Yeah, sometimes multiple times a day." you leaned forward, your elbows on the table, your cleavage in plain view for him. "Sometimes I do it while on breaks at work."
"Jesus." his eyes meandered down to your tits. "You're serious?" he asked, returning his gaze to your eyes.
"Of course. I never lie to you, Timothee." You leaned back in your chair, and picked up your glass of champagne, taking a sip. "I wish this was your cum." you said, raising the glass to him.
Your waitress came over just then, hearing what you had to say. Timmy let out a fake cough to distract from your dirty words.
The waitress set down your plates, not saying anything, but you did get to exchange a knowing, mischievous look with her. You watched as she eyed your handsome boyfriend. Timmy was the type of beauty that made people look at him a little longer than usual. You couldn't blame the girl as she scanned him up and down in passing.
You often wondered if Timmy actually knew how others found him so desirable. It was kind of hot how oblivious he acted to extra attention and kindness he got from people he didn't even know. Everyone loved him, women, men, young, old, it didn't matter. Even now you caught some of the fellow diners in the restaurant cutting their eyes at him.
The next day was long and boring as Timmy was at work for like 16 hours straight. You knew that work was important to him, of course, but you missed your man. You found yourself scrolling through your camera roll, which consisted almost exclusively of Timmy pictures.
Some photos were innocent selfies of your two together, some were candid shots you took because you couldn't resist. Then there were the NSFW ones that he and you both took during sex. You flipped through them, getting turned on looking at him naked. His skin was light, smooth, and beautiful, his hair a mess, his lips curved into a cheeky grin in one instance.
You came across a video of him fucking you doggystyle. It was your favorite position, so he fucked you that way often. You could hear his soft moans, his heavy breathing, and you could see the little beads of sweat on his hairline as he pushed his curls out of his face. Your pussy started to ache and throb the more you delved into the album.
You needed to talk to him; you needed him to know what he was doing to you. He didn’t even need to be near you to drive you crazy.
You decided to text him to start out: I've been thinking about you
aw, I've been thinking about you too. He replied a few minutes later.
I can't stop thinking about last night, baby. The nipple you bit still hurts. Did you know you left a mark? You smirked, thinking that definitely should get him flustered.
Oh?
yeah, wanna see?
yes. his response was quick on that one.
You giggled, and tugged the front of your top down, letting your boob plop out. You weren't lying, his teeth had marked the circumference of your nipple. You snapped a photo and sent it to him.
Fuck. his response was simple.
Will you kiss it when you get home, to make it feel better?
You could just picture him trying to keep his cool while opening the text at work. His throat drying, trying to swallow, biting his lip as he looked around to make sure no one else could see the photo you sent. You imagined him getting hard, but having to tuck his cock into his belt so his boner wouldn't show.
yes.
I want you to suck them for me, will you do that?
of course. he sent back, immediately.
You wanted to take it up a notch. You had to be bolder. I want you to send me a photo of your dick.
no way, baby, I can't do that.
You were quite disappointed, but horny, so you had to work harder for what you wanted. you sent him pouty face emojis and texted: but why?
because I'm at work, silly girl. you'll see me later. I promise I'll take care of you and make up for biting too hard.
His promise turned you on even more. How dare he! You were feeling especially bratty and needy, so you responded: no! I want to see your cock now
baby, I told you I can't. I'm working, princess.
You loved how endearing he was and how he used little pet names for you. But you were getting frustrated.
fine, but maybe I can send something to get you change your mind?
something… like what?
You proceeded to leaving your boyfriend hanging for a while. You removed all of your clothes, set up your phone to frame the scene perfectly, and spread your legs for the camera. You were soaking wet already, and your fingers glided along your pussy easily.
"Mm, Timmy." you purred his name, imagining his fingers were in place of yours. You used your fingertips to rub your swelling clit. The wet sounds pierced your ear drums and you knew that they would be audible through the video you were recording.
You palmed your breasts, cried his name again, and pinched your nipples. "I want you to fuck me, baby. Please, please, give me that big cock. I need it." you whimpered. You spread your labia with one hand and with the other, you tapped your clit. You giggled at the feeling.
With both hands, you stimulated your clit, and pushed a finger into your hole. "Ughhh." you moaned. You leaned your head back, licking your lips. Your fingers were no match for Timmy's cock, but it was the best you were going to get right now.
You picked up the pace, fingering yourself harder and faster. You moaned and whimpered his name over and over. You pumped your fingers as fast as you could, and you trembled, your body shaking as you came. You panted softly as you came down from the high, and you grinned at the camera.
You sent the video to Timmy, and you felt much better after an orgasm. You were able to relax and watch some TV as you waited for him to respond.
It was maybe an hour later, and you received a video from Timmy.
@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @bitchyunknownuser @lixzey @kpopgirlbtssvt @ducktapebar
#timothée chalamet#timmy chalamet#timothee x reader#timothée imagine#timothee chalamet smut#timothée chalamet fanfic#timothee chalamet fanfic#timothée chalamet imagine#timothee fanfic
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on the phone with 👑
(cw: mentions of ego-shooter video games; age gap 25/41, nsfw, masturbation, dirty talk, praise, MDNI)
part before: painting his nails
I'm tossing and turning.
In my own bed.
Cursing the notion I had, that I couldn't possibly stay for longer at his place.
On Monday morning, I packed up my stuff and hurried to work, after he made me another latte.
Being a good girl, not getting him to fuck me again, even though I would have rather taken him to bed than myself to work.
Texting König about every single minute thing that came to my mind. And him doing the same.
I sent him a pic while I was out getting lunch with a colleague. And he sent me a pic while he was working out. I almost died right there and then.
Firstly, I never would have thought he would do a mirror selfie.
Secondly...
His hair put up in a haphazard way. Damp strands of it hanging down.
The tank top was a tight fit especially for him, showing off his arms. Sweat staining the front of it, the sheen of wetness on his skin...
The shorts. The sight of his burly thighs had me gripping my desk, trying to get a grip.
Thirdly, that goddamned smile. Oh, he knew exactly what he was doing.
When I had calmed down, my fingers typed out a message in response.
Me: excuse me??? sir??? 🫠
👑: you are excused
He's gonna pay for that one.
When I came home from work, I thought it was eerily quiet in my apartment. Nobody else being here. I mean, I live alone and Mimi greeted me as always. But it seemed like was something off. Missing.
I thought back to when we got my stuff and König just waited patiently for me while I packed some clothes and other necessities. Petting Mimi, his whole attention on the little cat. His tall stature dwarfed my living room, and I was actually surprised he didn’t hit his head on the ceiling. The Morbid Angel logo on his shirt was hidden by the black furball purring against him. Mimi sitting on his chest, not a care in the world, meowing when she saw me.
But there was no 6'10'' giant waiting for me in the living room then.
I willed myself - even though my fingers itched - to not send him message about asking for him to pick me up or stay over at my place. I wanted to give him some space after I had his place under siege for what feel like an eternity, but realistically was just three days. And I managed fine yesterday, his goodbye kisses still lingering. Today, even with all of the messages we sent back and forth...
Can you miss somebody like that after knowing them for such a short time?
I knew that he most likely spent the whole evening at home. Alone. Because he likes being alone. Probably reading or listening to the new Trivium vinyl he bought that came in the mail yesterday. Or both.
I stayed home as well, playing games on my computer – I actually started up Counterstrike and tried to play some matches –, but my mind always wandered back to him. Mimi came running, pushing her head against my legs, demanding attention. I lifted her off the floor to set her onto my lap and didn't see the enemy which got me eliminated. The irony was not lost on me, as I thought back to our conversation. How worried he seemed with how I would perceive him when he talked about his work. And now I was sitting here, playing a shooter game to try and relax after work.
I shook my head, at the absurdity of it, and snapped a quick pic in between matches to send to him.
My phone ding-ed while I was in a match, and I tried to ignore it.
As soon as I got the chance though, I opened the message and he sent a picture back. From the waist down, a book on his lap, a beer on the table beside him. The wall of books in the background. The whole room dimly lit except for the opened pages.
God damn it, I just want to sit right next to him on that couch.
me: looking comfy, old man
👑: thank you, i am indeed very comfy
👑: brat
I chuckled to myself and played a few more rounds before I went to bed.
And now I'm here, tossing and turning in my bed, without the big guy right beside me.
I pull the chat up again. Looking at the pictures he sent me today.
me: u still awake?
👑: yes, everything okay?
me: can't sleep
👑: me neither
While I'm still contemplating my next message, the crown lights up my phone as a caller ID. Surprise spreads through me for just a moment before I pick up.
Hi?
Hi. Uh, I hope it's okay that I just called.
Sure, I can't sleep anyways.
I ignore the little flutter in my stomach.
What is it? Something on your mind?
‘Yeah, you.’ is what I want to say.
No, just restless.
He sighs.
I feel that.
A little silence falls over us, just for a moment.
What was that game you played before?
Oh, uh- Counterstrike. I'm no good at it though.
He laughs.
Why do you play it then?
It's still fun, I guess. Even if I curse at the monitor like a goddamn sailor.
Oh, I couldn't imagine your sweet mouth doing something as filthy as that.
Yeah, yeah. We both know what kind of filthy things you're imagining with my mouth.
Maybe.
I can hear the grin on his face which makes me grin in return.
Have you ever played?
I never played, no. Don't want to spend my free time with...
He pauses.
Work.
Oh right, I understand, sorry. This must be weird then.
No, don't worry. I know that people play those games for fun.
Yeah, I know, still.
You gotta show me some time.
Really?
Yeah, why not.
Okay, then, I'll show you my shitty gameplay with pleasure.
Which makes us both laugh.
I gotta confess something.
What do you have to confess?
I already had my car keys in my hand.
You did?
Mhm. But then I remembered what you said yesterday morning, about needing to go home and you couldn't possibly stay any longer… and I understand if you need some space. So, I wasn't sure if you'd even open the door for me, if I knocked.
A moment of silence.
Can I confess something as well?
Sure.
I have been thinking all evening how fucking stupid that was of me. And I would've opened the door for you in an instant.
Another silence, this one a little heavier.
But a little smile stalks on my face, an idea of what to say next.
What would you do if you were here?
He chuckles.
Kiss that filthy mouth of yours. And then the top of your head because that's closest to your dirty mind.
What dirty mind?
Yeah, yeah, I see right through you, Fräulein.
I don't know what you're talking about.
No? So, you aren't thinking about me fucking you from behind right now? Or maybe about you spreading your legs and me eating you out, your delicious pussy right in my face? Or about my dick pushing into your mouth until you gag around it, hm?
I clear my throat.
Well, now I am for sure.
Good. Because I'm thinking about it as well.
König?
Yes, Liebes?
I- There's something that always helps me sleep better.
His voice deepens.
And what's that?
Oh, you already know.
I need to hear you say it. What do you want?
I hesitate, feeling a little shy now.
I want to come.
He groans.
Fuck, can't deny you if you ask so prettily.
The tone of his voice sends a little shiver down my spine, but I'm unsure what to say now, the words on the tip of my tongue.
What- what should I do?
I can tell you what I would do if I was there, and you can tell me how it feels, okay?
Okay.
Put the phone next to you and put me on speaker. You're gonna need both of those hands.
I do exactly as he tells me, lying back into my sheets.
You're on speaker.
Good. What are you wearing, sweetcheeks?
I giggle a little.
A shirt and panties.
Hmm, my favorite. I would get rid of your underwear in an instant though.
I laugh and follow his suggestion. I already noticed his disdain for underwear, on himself as well.
Then I would slowly push my hand up your shirt, feeling your soft skin.
Until I reach your breasts, squeezing them.
I do as he says, but it doesn't quite feel the same with my hands, compared to his bigger ones.
I would graze my thumb over your nipples, feeling them harden from my touch.
I'd like to lick them, bite them just lightly, until you squirm under me.
I pinch them, his words mixing with the sensations of my touch, until I softly sigh.
Feeling good?
Mhm.
The sound is more a moan than anything else.
My hand would slowly wander down, until I'm there, just were you want me.
I whimper when my fingers reach my clit, swollen and sensitive.
That bad, huh?
Well, somebody sent a picture of them all sweaty and hot after working out. And I still can't think straight, just thinking about that.
He laughs.
You say such nice things, Liebes.
What would you do next?
I know that I sound desperate. But I need more.
I’d move my hand just a little further down. Not pushing into you just yet. Just teasing. Softly stroking over your wet pussy.
I whine, needy, but I don't dare to stray from his order, getting myself worked up with the teasing touches.
Just feeling how fucking wet you are for me, before pushing my finger into you.
I push one of my fingers inside me, the one digit not nearly being enough.
Miss your fingers, they're bigger.
He hums. A soft erotic sound.
I suppose they are.
I’d add a second one, slowly moving inside you, just how you like it. Hitting that spot inside you that makes you moan and roll your eyes back. Just how I like it.
His voice is getting deeper, his breaths a little more labored, as he keeps talking which sends a shiver down my spine. Knowing that guiding me through it like that, hearing me sigh in response, does it for him as well lets a little smile form on my face.
I do as he says, but I also get a little frustrated, because my fingers can't quite reach like his, my hips squirming, desperate for more friction.
Need more.
I whine.
Okay, then. Brat.
I would flip you on your front, so I could look at your ass.
I can't help the little eyeroll, while a grin stalks onto my face.
But you aren't here, and you can't actually see my butt.
Pssscht, I'm imagining it just fine. Come on, turn around, do as I tell you.
And I do, the rustling of my sheets telling him as far.
Good.
Just this word alone, from his lips, does things to me.
Now, lift up your hips just a little and push your fingers in from behind.
I follow his instructions, lifting my ass, so I can reach a little better, two of my fingers slipping into my pussy. I groan a little bit.
How's that? A little deeper?
Yes.
I sigh.
Good. Now, put your other fingers on your clit.
I push my arm under my body, placing the hand, right between my legs. My fingertips are digging into the sensitive nub and I rub against them needily. I know now why he wanted me to reposition myself.
Oh fuck.
The sounds I’m making are telling him what he wants to know.
Just like that.
Move your hips, fuck yourself on your fingers.
And I do as he tells me, the touches getting me worked up fast, the pressure on my clit changing with every pass, while my fingers are pushing into my pussy.
Hmm, feeling good?
Yeah, just wish it was you inside me.
That little confession dropped out of me before I could think too hard about it.
Fuck, me too. I would bury my dick deep inside you. Fuck you from behind. Hard, just how you like it.
Remember how I fucked you into that bar counter?
How could I forget?
We need to do that again sometime... You took me so fucking perfectly.
I bite my lip, stifling the moans that get louder and louder, the images of us fucking spurring me on, while I finger-fuck myself.
I wanna hear you. Please.
My head turns in the direction of the phone again, making sure he gets to hear all the sounds that are dropping from my lips.
Good girl.
His praise washes over me and I almost choke up when the pull inside gets too much.
Close, so clo-
Fuck, yes. Come. That's what you wanted, isn't it?
The growl in his voice tips me over the edge, moving my hips frantically in search for more friction, when my orgasm crashes down over me.
My moans fill my bedroom, and surely find their way into the phone.
I can hear him groan as well, the sounds from the speaker sounding a lot like a slick hand moving up and down quickly.
Fuck, he’s jerking off too. That thought registers in my brain, before my fingers hit that spot inside me again. The zap of pleasure makes me shake, the waves of arousal washing over me, while my fingers strum over my clit.
Fuuuck…
A low breathy curse that escapes his lips as he comes as well.
Panting, mine and his from the speaker, is all I hear for the next moments.
I untangle myself, my fingers slipping out of me, turning onto my back again. Feeling my own wetness on my hands. I clean myself haphazardly before I grab the phone again.
That was… something else.
Yeah… you drive me crazy, you know that?
I’m still just breathing, trying to calm myself down. My god, I don’t think I ever came that hard with just my fingers inside me. The images he put in my mind… his deep soft voice alone. It does stuff to me. Hearing him say that... how I drive him crazy as well, it makes me all giddy inside.
I feel the familiar fuzzy feeling sweep over me, and I wish I could snuggle into him right now, after he made me come, and my hazy mind is still looking for the right thing to say now.
Feeling better now?
Yes, much better.
Sleepy, too?
Yes, that too. I always get a little sleepy afterwards.
I've noticed.
Like on cue, I yawn.
Thank you.
He chuckles again. And I don't think I'll ever get enough of that sound.
No need to thank me. I'll make you come any day of the week.
I- meant for calling, but that works too.
The grin on my face probably mirrors his, staring off into the distance with our phones pressed to the ear. And he's still not here next to me.
Gotta get myself under the shower, because I made a mess of myself again and I got nobody here to clean me up.
That makes me laugh, the joke and the filthy thought cutting through the sleepiness, when I'm yawning again.
You do that, can't have you all messy like that.
No, we can't.
I can hear the little filthy grin in his voice, and I can imagine how he must look like right now. Sitting on the couch or his bed. His dick still out, all messy and sticky with his cum. His hair hanging over the side of his face, as he relaxes into the cushions. And that god damn smirk of his.
Silence, just two little moments, before I ask what I wanted to ask.
Can you come over tomorrow?
Sure, Kleine, whatever you want.
Okay, good. Good night, König.
Good night, sleep well.
That's the last thing I hear before I drift off to sleep, still gripping my phone tight with my fingers.
next part: gaming with him or more stuff in the Masterlist ~
#metalhead!könig#she likes the dark#könig#könig cod#könig mw2#konig#konig cod#konig mw2#könig fanfiction#cod mw2 smut#könig smut#konig smut#cod smut#könig x reader#tw: age gap
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I wish that I was good enough
paring: Javier Peña x fem!afab!Reader
rating: explicit
word count: 3k
summary: Getting Javier Peña to be your fuck buddy was a win. You had fun, orgasms and absolutely no feelings involved. Right?
warnings: oral (m receiving); unprotected PinV (‼️); creampie; light degradation kink; dirty talk; mentioning of cum eating; angst-ish; no use of y/n
a/n: just nurtured my Javi brainrot. sorry for maybe bad Spanish? and maybe bad English? not beta-ed, I'm owning all the mistakes
MY MASTERLIST
Javier Peña was a fairly simple man and he prided himself in that. He never lied about who he was, never put on a mask; what you saw was what you got, and what you got was a man who'd seen so much shit that not only his edges turned rough, his whole being was hard as stone; not only his hands were calloused from the heavy weight of a gun, his soul was as gentle as sandpaper. His were the first brown eyes you saw that weren't warm. He had trust issues, anger issues, and all them other issues you could think of, and he didn't think about fixing them. He just went on with his life, sometimes alone, sometimes with someone who could handle him for an odd month or two.
You were someone who stayed around the longest. Most likely that was due to you two never actually having a "relationship". That was exactly how Javi phrased it to you the first time you shared a drink in a crowded bar in downtown Bogota.
"I'm not good in all that ‘relationship shit’”, he mimicked quotation marks with his fingers before downing his third whiskey, dry.
You nodded then, you weren't in search of your life partner either, too much shit to deal with after graduation and constant struggle to find a job. Stuff just piled on your plate higher and higher, and you though that your hands would just finally drop under the weight of your fucked-up life, with every decision you made being a wrong one. But at the end of the day, you were just a human, and if you knew one thing it was that pent up frustration lead to eventual big bang in a bloodied bath. So as any other girl you thought of the easy and safe way out. You needed a fuck buddy, a friends with benefits situation. The friends part wasn't that important, though. Any type of relationship would just complicate your life further, and that wasn't something you could handle. But yeah, a fuck buddy didn't sound like such a bad option, and you put on your most flirtatious smile as you mentioned that to your new devilishly handsome acquaintance.
"Ain't I too old to be your fuck buddy?" He barked a laugh holding his drink close to the plush softness of his lips, anything but flustered after your explicit proposition.
"Do you have an expiration date?" You countered cheekily, you were prepared for something like that to leave his inviting mouth.
He shook his head at that, shamelessly taking all of your form in. His glassy eyes were darkened, and you knew it wasn't the lights in the damn place. Javi was practically fucking you, already spreading your legs on top of that bar table, fucking into your throbbing cunt even before he learned your name. And even after finding out there were painful 16 years between you, his dark smile didn't falter, and his eyes didn't stop hungrily roaming over your body.
That night you ended up going to his place and getting fucked so hard you were sore for the next three days. It wasn't a bad thing, even if Javi did give you a concerned look when you crab-walked to his bathroom. The experience made you limp at work and cast your eyes down under the all-too-knowing looks of people oh so worth it.
From that moment you've established an equally beneficial routine: you’d meet two-three times a week, he’d let out all his pent up anger on your poor pussy and you’d free yourself of all the frustration and get the best fuck of your life on top of that. He was calmer, you were more satisfied and focused. The only thing that could ever make you go back on this safe heaven of sexual fulfillment would be someone starting to develop feelings, however impossible that was. However if that was to happen, well… what the other one didn't know wouldn't hurt them, right? The routine would stay put until the truth came out, and God, the hopes were high for it not to happen any time soon.
It was one of your nights. Darkness of the room was filled with wet sounds, the smell of sweat more intense in Colombian humidity. Two completely naked bodies were positioned in the middle of a small bedroom, the dim yellow light from the bedside table made the sweat covered skin look majestic rather than dirty. Though the words spilling in the confines of the night were less than.
"Good girl, sucking my cock like a filthy slut you are. Eres fantástica, cariña." The man above you put his hand around your throat lightly, squeezing to feel his cock pumping in and out of your welcoming heat. Your eyes watered, the image of him getting blurry, but you continued stuffing your throat, anticipating the soreness tomorrow.
You felt saliva wetting the corners of your mouth and dribbling out with a mix of his precum. Javi looked at you, the adoration in his voice was a strange contrast to the violent desire burning in his eyes and the nastiness falling from his lips. He swiped your spit with his thumb and proceeded to pat your cheek gently, not a slap, but close enough.
"Look at you, you're so greedy for my cock it's pathetic." His thrusts became harder, heavy balls slapping your chin with every movement. "Going to leave you here as my personal fucktoy." You moaned, excitement resulting in arousal coating your thighs, you desperately needed him to fill the hole that was clenching around nothing, but you didn't dare pull away. "I know you'd like that, mi puta deliciosa."
When you felt the desperate need for oxygen burning up your lungs, you leaned back a little, earning yourself a gentle slap across your cheek and thick fingers squeezing your jaw.
"Where the fuck do you think you're going? I'm far from being done with you, hermosa."
"Fuck, Javi, just fuck me already. I need your thick cock inside me, please." Your voice sounded fucked out, raspy and pleading. You put your hands on his thighs, breathing heavily as he swiped your drool with two fingers, before shoving them into your mouth unceremoniously. You didn’t mind, swirling your tongue around the digits, and biting them gently.
"Can’t wait until I fucking give it to you. Do you just love begging so much, baby?" He chuckled and shook his head in fake disappointment. You knew it was fake because there was nothing that excited him more than seeing you so desperate for him, needing him splitting you open like only he could. It made his head spin and cock twitch. "Such a needy little slut." You hummed around his fingers, and he took them out, leaving a string of saliva on your bottom lip. "Come on then, hands and knees, baby, let's put that greedy cunt to use."
The speed of you jumping into the position for a good fucking was comical, and Javi did laugh until he saw your puffy glistening lips inviting him to sink his throbbing cock into. The mattress dipped under him, and you felt his hands enveloping your hips, squeezing the skin tightly as he teased you pushing his hips into you, but not actually penetrating.
"Fuck, Javi," you turned your head, whining, "stop playing, just fuck me already!"
You felt the slap before you heard it. His massive hand left a burning imprint on your ass, and then another one right on top of the first. He lowered himself, hugging your middle with his left hand and forcing you to press your back against his broad chest. You whimpered as he left a trail of bites from your shoulder to your neck, stopping at your earlobe. "Don’t fucking tell me what to do, baby. Stop whining. I’ll fuck you when I see fit, and you’re gonna take it and thank me, because that’s how it works. Because that is how you want it. Am I wrong?"
You shook your head desperately, annoyed at how right this is. Your whole deal only worked because he seemed to know you better, that you knew yourself. At first that scared you, but soon you craved it more than a glass of water on the worst hangover morning. His hand left another generous slap on your burning asscheek and this time it made you actually yelp in pain.
"I asked you a fucking question, baby, am I wrong?"
"No, Javi, no you’re not wrong."
"Damn right I’m not wrong." His hand traveled up your sternum, stopping as it found your right tit and Javi pinched your tight with sensitivity and arousal nipple. He was just as gentlemanly as you needed him, which was none. He let go of you and pushed you back in the original position, your elbows meeting the soft mattress.
You knew he needed you as much as you needed him, you had felt him throb on your tongue, his thick cock with its fat round head had been punching bruises into your throat for the last ten minutes, and you knew he was about to bust when you let him go. So you just needed to be a little bit more patient and he’d give it to you. He always did. Quenching your desire for him all up in your guts with little breaths, you lowered your head between your arms.
"That’s it, hermosa, waiting like a good little bitch." You smiled, knowing that he wouldn’t see it, and he caressed your hot ass with a light movement. "Just needed to discipline you first." You honestly didn’t understand the thunder of slaps raining on your asscheeks after those words. There was less than a second between every spank, and while you whined and shivered both in pain and pleasure, begging him to just let you cum, you couldn’t stop your back from arching further, giving him a bigger expanse of your skin to torture.
"Good girl, such a good girl, Hermosa, just taking all I give you."
Slap,
slap,
slap.
The last one made you jerk, his hand already wet with all the slick running down your slit and thighs twitched, making his slap land square on your begging pussy.
"Fuck!" The scream was literally slapped out of you. Javi stopped immediately, pressing his whole palm into your burning lips.
"Okay?"
It was more than okay, the raw sensation seemed to bring you even closer to your long-awaited orgasm than you anticipated, but it was your chance to make Javi stop playing with you. You did have an awful day and you just needed to forget everything being split open on his cock. "It will be if you fuck me already," you gritted through your teeth.
He let his hand gently pat your slick pussy, diving into your throbbing hole with two fingers and sliding in and out easily. "That pretty pussy is just drooling for me, baby. She got my hand all wet, can’t wait to give my dick the same treatment, can she?"
He didn’t wait for you to answer, and you didn’t think you’d be able to anyway. Not when the tip of his cock teased your pulsing clit, and then swiftly opened up your cunt, letting Javi bury all of him inside you in one deep stroke.
"Fuck," you could hear him speaking as he bit his lower lips, words muffled as he placed both of his hands back on your hips. You closed your eyes, feeling the familiar stinging fullness that you came to desire every morning. That you failed to recreate every day you were alone. That you came back to every night your phone buzzed with ‘you should come over tonight, hermosa’. "That fucking cunt ruined me, baby. Can’t fuck anything but your pretty hole. Squeezes me just fucking right." His little sentiments sent a warm feeling down your spine, even though you knew he was just saying it in the heat of the moment. He’d say stuff like that, feeling you cunt clench and more of your arousal seeping down of your stretched opening, making the sounds in the room absurdly vulgar.
It was like Javi just read your mind. He was a great fuck from day one, but what shook you the most, what made you addicted the most was his fucking intuition. It was like he saw all the cues your body was subconsciously giving off: when to slap you, when to go faster or slower, and when to drag his skillful fingers to play with your clit. You even told him once that whatever he did for work now he should quit, because being a male prostitute would get him way more money. He laughed, and then fucked your brains out on the kitchen table, eating your mixed cum out of your overstimulated pussy afterwards while your takeout was getting cold next to you.
Just like every other night you spent tangled in each other, he gave it to you just the way you wanted again. Slow, deep strokes of his cock that you felt from your opening and right to that spot inside you that he punched with every push. With every rugged breath his pace became more rigid, he was close, but you were closer. You lifted one of your hands off the mattress guiding it to your begging clit, but again, Javi read you before you could think. His fingers moved from your hips to the apex of your thighs teasing your bundle of nerves with tight circles. You could feel his balls slapping against you, his sweat mixing with yours, the coarse hair above his cock irritating the raw skin of your ass with every thrust.
"Javi, I’m gonna.."
"I know, hermosa, feel you squeeze me with your pretty cunt," he gritted through his teeth. "Come on, baby, I wanna feel you cry all over my cock, give it to me."
His thrusts became more rapid, the movements of his fingers unforgiving on your clit and you felt your knees almost give out as your mouth opened in a silent scream. You throbbed and pulsed around his still hard cock, and the drag of it inside you made you cry out with oversensitivity.
"Turn around, come on, wanna see you." He manhandled you like a doll, your mind not cooperating with your body as you dropped on your back welcoming him once again between your spread thighs. Javi didn’t wait a moment, crowding you with his arms, and dropping his mouth to suck little hickeys on your tits as he sunk back inside. You shuddered, still coming down from your climax as he chased his. His hips worked like a jackhammer, stuffing you full again, again, again. Wet lips left kisses, bites and licks wherever he could reach, and eventually his head fell into the crook of your neck, only his loud breathing and the lewd sound of skin slapping skin remaining in the quiet room.
You circled your arms around his neck, and tugged on his hair, sweaty strands of it slippery between your fingers. That little pang of pain was what undid Javi, and he let out a wail, like a wounded animal, filling you with rope after rope of his cum. He fell on top of you, your sweaty bodies sticking together.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck. Oh, fuck, I love you so much. Te quiero, te quiero, te quiero." His soft whisper was as loud as a thunderstorm in an empty field. And you felt like you were struck by lightning, mind sobering up from your orgasm in an inhuman past when you pushed his slick body away from yours. You didn’t pay attention to the sticky cum leaking down your wet thighs as he landed on his back, eyes looking at you with more than just physical pain.
"What the fuck did you say, Javi?"
You wanted him to say that it was in the heat of the moment, that he didn't mean it. Or that he thought of someone else while fucking you, so the words just slipped out and weren't meant for you. Anything, any fucking excuse.
"Lo siento, querida." He didn't blink, staying as still as a statue, droplets of liquid salt quickly soaking into the sheets under him.
You shook your head, trying to get his words out of your brain. No, no, no, fucking please. It felt like a betrayal. He was the only constant in your life, the only thing you were sure of, and then he decided to selfishly take that away from you? Fall in love with you? What a fucking prick.
"That's some fucking bullshit, Javi, we had a deal! We had a fucking deal!"
He nodded, closing his eyes, too weak to see the disappointment on your face. "I know, I fucked up, but I just... - "
"No," you were quick to interrupt him, jumping off the bed that had seen so much and pulling your jeans and a t-shirt without even trying to find your underwear. "I can't fucking believe you'd do that." Your eyes watered, angry tears threatening to roll down your cheeks, so you dropped your head lower to pick up your shoes and walked to the door barefoot.
"Hermosa!" You heard him calling for you, and then the sound of his movements. There he was, staring at you in all his naked glory, more desperate for you than ever. The only time you didn't want to satiate his craving. Wasn't ready to.
"Fuck you, Javi."
The loud bang of the door closing was nothing compared to the sound of his newly healed heart shattering into dust.
ummm... yeah. so, comment if you liked it? thanks!
#javier pena x you#javier peña x reader#javier pena fanfiction#javier pena#pedro pascal fanfiction#iamasaddie fic#javier peña x female reader
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Sleeping on the Blacktop
Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader
Author's note: guys we did it i wrote smut i actually like (ps this was edited but also not reread because I’ve been trying to write it for five hours so if you see any mistakes no you didn’t)
Summary: The Land of No Return [4.7k]
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION, platonic expressions of love, the mortifying ordeal of being known, sexting, we finally get to know about reader's secret tattoos, smut, Joel the Menace makes his long awaited return with that dirty fucking mouth, mutual masturbation, phone sex (??(sure)), protected sex (no Miller babies for them) p in v stuff, June being indulgent with describing Joel Miller, anxiety, I think that's it??
Music floods the kitchen as you and Andie work on making the best "last supper but with women" possible. The lamps glow orange on the walls and create funny shadows when you dance together, pulling each other in and out to old jazzy tunes. You laugh when she throws a string of spaghetti at your fridge to test if it's ready a little too hard, and it splatters water everywhere. You, honestly, might be a little delirious. You're both in your pajamas, and you've been watching movies all day. You exchange what you remember from New Year's Eve and cringe at what the other fills in. You drink cheap wine from plastic cups and snack on chips as the food cooks.
It feels like high school again, with all the girlish giggling and inside jokes you trade back and forth, except this time, instead of her going back to her house ten minutes up the road, she's going back to her apartment half the world away. No matter how long you get with her, it's never enough. Thousands of miles and different schedules will do that. Keeping long-distance friendships as an adult is just as hard, if not harder, than making new ones.
When dinner is ready, you fix your plates and sit next to each other at your messy dining room table— the IKEA one she helped you build when Henry walked out with the first one— and eat. Paint stains the wood of the table, and half-finished works are scattered around the dining room, but you barely notice them as you talk. She tells you about the things waiting for her in Vienna: work, her cat, Oslo, and piano lessons. You don't have to pretend to be envious because you are. You have to go back to school and the Real World once you drop her off at the airport in the morning. You wish you could go with her.
"Alright, c'mon. Spill it. What's going on with you and Joel?" She asks in between bites of garlic bread. You laugh and shake your head.
"There's nothing to tell."
"Bullshit. Tommy told me he saw you guys."
"Speaking of Tommy," you pivot. "What's going on there? You two seemed pretty chummy." You raise your eyebrows at her, and a big smile takes over her face. She takes another bite of food to buy herself some time, but there's no way you're letting her off the hook, especially after all her teasing about Joel.
"Nothing. We were just… talking." She finally says, and you give her a look.
"Talking?"
"Yes. People talk. You should try it sometime."
"Was it talking like we are now or talking like Joel and I talked?" You hum, and she kicks her feet as she leans forward.
"So you and Joel did talk."
"Well, we probably would've if somebody didn't come barging in."
"Goddammit, I told him to wait," she groans. "Sorry, girl."
"Yeah, me too," you say, and she laughs. You bump her knee and give her a look. "Alright, your turn. What's going on with Tommy?"
"Nothing that could actually turn into anything."
"Aw, c'mon. Don't count yourself out so early."
"It's not counting myself out. It's being realistic. I live in Vienna. He lives here. I'm not ready to come back to the States, and he seems content, so there's nothing that can happen," she shrugs. "It was a fling. A very nice fling, but a fling nevertheless." She seems a little too sad for it to have been just a fling. They exchanged numbers, and you've caught her texting him several times. She said she did kiss him on New Year's Eve (before she threw up), but they didn't go any further besides flirting the next morning. You watched them test each other at breakfast, and he seemed just as interested in her as she was in him. They'd be cute together. She sighs and pushes her pasta around in her bowl like a dejected character from a period piece.
"Tommy is very handsome." You comment, and she grabs your arm, animating all of a sudden.
"Dude, I've been dying to talk about it. What the fuck are they putting in the water here? It's insane."
"It's annoying, right?"
"So annoying." She agrees. You laugh about it together and, finally, give her the details she's been waiting so patiently for. When you finish your story, her hands are over her mouth, and her eyes are wide. "Oh, my God. You have to get him back."
"I know, I know! He's driving me up a fucking wall." You say, taking a bite of food. It will get cold if you don't stop talking, but you also don't care.
"You could surprise him with some lingerie or something." She suggests, and you groan.
"God, I don't even remember the last time I bought lingerie."
"All the more reason to buy some."
"I don't know. I feel like I could just show up naked, and he'd be happy with that."
"He sounds like a keeper then."
"Yeah, I don't know," you shrug. "I like him a lot. I just… don't know if it's sustainable."
"Why?" She asks. You almost want to gesture around your messy apartment and half-put together life as if it will answer her question.
"I mean, he's a good guy, and we're having fun, but for how long? His kid's gonna be in at least one of my classes until she graduates. Not to mention, he has another daughter who is in medical school. We both work full-time. And then there's the whole having to keep it a secret thing. It could get really old really fast." You sigh.
"What if it doesn't?"
"What?"
"What if it doesn't get old? What if it ends up working out?" She asks. You take a deep breath. "You didn't even think about that possibility. Did you?"
"I just don't wanna get hurt."
"That's a very real possibility. Things could go wrong. He could break your heart. You could lose your job. Society as we know it could come crashing down, and you know what? The sun's still gonna come up the next day. The birds will still sing, and I will still be here," she says, putting her hand over yours. You purse your lips as you process her words. "You deserve nice things, kid. Don't count yourself out so early." She echoes your earlier sentiment, and you smile.
She's right. Of course, she's right. You don't let yourself think good things could happen because you're so focused on all the bad. She's known you for so long she can read your thoughts and know your habits before you can. What a horrifying and beautiful thing it is to be known inside and out like that.
"Maybe you should've been a writer instead of a musician," you say, and she laughs. You squeeze her hand and sigh as you look at her. "I'm really gonna miss you."
"I'm really gonna miss you, too."
"I wish you could stay."
"I know," she says. "But you need an excuse to come to Vienna, and I need an excuse to come to Austin, and if I stay, we lose that."
"I guess that's true."
"Besides, if I stop making trans-Atlantic calls, I think my phone company would be concerned." She points out, making you laugh. You know she's telling you what she's told herself this whole time. She loves Vienna, but you know she gets homesick. You know she's trying really hard to convince herself to get back on that plane. You don't push her about staying again. You just indulge in her presence.
"I love you." You say softly, and she smiles.
"I love you, too." She says.
It means so much more than just "I love you." It means, "I love you, and I want us both to eat well." It means, "I love you, and I can't imagine doing this life without you." It means, "I love you, and I know you have to go." Never any buts. Always ands, because love like this knows no bounds. Not borders, not time zones, not lifestyles.
You finish the dinner you made and clean the kitchen side by side before climbing into bed and staying up as late as possible to try and get Andie back on Vienna time. In the morning, you drag yourselves out of bed and sing in the car on the way to get coffee, and when the time comes for you to get her suitcase out of your backseat and watch her disappear behind glass doors, you hug her tight and tell her you love her again. She repeats the sentiment with another squeeze and deep breath that tells you how close to tears she is. Then, she turns around and doesn't look back to prove she's strong enough to leave. She doesn't need to prove anything to you. You always knew she was strong enough to do this.
The car ride back is emotional and lonely and tinged with the bass line of Ribs by Lorde, but your phone buzzes as you pull back into your apartment complex with tears staining your cheeks.
Thanks for letting us meet Andie. She's a really sweet person. I'm sorry she has to leave today.
You don't remember telling him what day she was leaving, but she might've told Tommy, and Tommy told Joel. You smile and text him back.
Thanks for taking care of us. She only had good things to say about you and Tommy. We'll have to all hang out again the next time she's home.
And then.
Thanks for checking on me. I really appreciate it.
Of course. I'm always a wreck when I have to drop Sarah off at the airport. I'm around if you wanna talk. Ellie's hanging out with some friends, and Tommy's on-site today.
You stare at the messages and debate your options. He basically just told you he's home alone and has nothing to do for the rest of the day. And yes, he is probably being sweet and really offering to talk if you're feeling lonely, but you also know how talking usually goes for you two. You smirk as you type out a message.
Just talk?
It seems like he can't type fast enough.
What else would you wanna do?
I think you made some promises you need to follow through on, Miller.
I guess I did.
Come over and I can do just that.
Actually, I have some work to get done :( maybe next time?
You lock your phone and bound up to your apartment, conscious of the sudden lengthening of time between messages. It's fun to imagine him trying to come up with a response that respects your boundaries but also lets you know how needy he is. He may have started this little game, but you're gonna be the one to perfect it. Thus begins the days upon days of not sexting, but not not sexting.
At first, it's just messages about how you miss him and wish he was around. He tries to find an excuse to come over, but you effectively cockblock him at every turn. Your response times get a little slower the more worked up he gets, so he has to figure it out on his own. You never would've thought Joel Miller, a man with gray in his beard and wrinkles lining his face, could be such a fast texter, but you figure there's nothing more desperate than a horny man.
Messages quickly escalate to pictures. They start off innocent enough: a picture of the painting you're working on, but your bare legs give away the fact that you're not wearing pants, a picture of him stepping out of a hot shower, his bare chest slightly red and glistening from the water, a picture of you wearing the burnt orange shirt he sent you home in New Year's Day with no bra on underneath. Then, you get a little bolder. After a quick trip to the mall, you pose in front of the mirror in a short delicate white night down with pretty lace details on the top, the hem barely hitting the tops of your thighs and showing off the large tattoos hiding there. You look hot, and imagining Joel's reaction to you makes you flush and rub your thighs together to get some relief.
It's true that Joel would've been happy if you showed up to his house wearing (or not wearing) anything, but when the photo pings to his phone, he's never been more grateful for Victoria's Secret in his life. His breath hitches in his throat, and he quickly tucks his phone into his chest like someone is gonna come up behind him and see what he's looking at. He's barely glanced at the photo and he's already straining in his jeans.
Goddamn, he texts back. You're so fucking pretty, baby.
You like it?
It's a dumb question, but you really don't care.
It's perfect.
What do you like about it?
Besides the fact that you're the one wearing it? I like that it makes you look like more of an angel than you already are, and I like that I can finally see those tattoos you've been hiding from me.
Bingo, you think to yourself. He was able to catch glimpses of the large pieces hiding on your back and shoulders at the art gallery, and when he picked up on New Year's Eve, you caught him staring at them each time. You thought he was following the inky lines up your body, but you couldn't be sure. Now, he's giving himself away, and you're practically buzzing with excitement.
You turn around in the mirror and arch your back, perfectly showing off your ass and the intricate tattoo lining your spine, and snap a picture. It's one of the largest ones you have, and it's also the easiest to hide. Besides, you definitely didn't get it for your own enjoyment. You live for moments like this. You send him the picture and smile as you type.
Like this one?
Your phone rings not even two minutes after he reads the message. You giggle when he groans into the receiver instead of greeting you.
"You're gonna fuckin' kill me, baby." He says, his voice so deep you can practically feel it rumble against your ear.
"I told you I'd get you back." You say it like it's obvious, but he just hums. There's shuffling on his end, and all you can do is wait for him to say something else.
"What else have you been hidin' underneath all those little dresses, hm?" He asks. "Tattoos. The most fuckin' perfect tits I've ever seen. Anythin' else I should know bout? 'S your pussy as pretty as the rest of ya?" You didn't mean for him to hear you gasp, but he seemed pleased that he could pull such a sound from you without even being in the same room. Just like that, any doubt or reservation you had left flies out the window. You finally cave and slip your hand down your panties to glide your fingers through your folds. "Am I makin' you wet, sweetheart?"
"Fuck," you mumble. It's absurd how turned on you are by this whole thing. Your fingers slowly circle your clit, and your head gets so fuzzy you almost forget to respond to him. "Yes, Joel."
"Are you playin' with yourself?" He asks, and you nod even though he can't see you. "Poor thing. I wish I could be there to help ya. I'd have you spread open for me so I can touch you however I want. Figure out what you like and what makes you cry for me." You put him on speaker and throw your phone down so you can focus on gliding through your wetness, your middle finger pushing into you slowly.
"What... what would you do?" You ask, breathless.
"I'd start by usin' my fingers just to feel you out, and I bet you'd feel so fuckin' good. I'd play with your clit until you're beggin' me to put a finger inside you, and I'd slip two in slowly while kissin' your inner thighs and watchin' you squeeze my fingers," you moan as you listen to his raspy voice and fuck yourself to his words. You try to imagine what his fingers would feel like inside of you. How different compared to yours, how much better they'd feel. Goddammit. "Then, I'd use my mouth on you while my fingers move in and out. I'd lick you all over and feel you soakin' me when I suck on your clit." He says, and you return to rubbing said bundle of nerves, faster this time, as you become acutely aware of his labored breathing over the phone.
Is he touching himself? The idea of him holding the phone with one hand and fisting his cock with the other sends a wave of heat down your spine, and you keen into your own hand. A shaky breath and muttered curse leave his lips, and then you know for sure what he's doing. Your head spins, and you'd be embarrassed by how close you are just from his voice if you weren't entirely focused on the pleasure clouding your brain.
"Fuck, Joel-"
"I know, baby, I know," he coos sympathetically. Another lewd moan leaves you as you get closer and closer to the edge, stars threatening the corners of your vision. "Are you gonna come for me like this?" He asks, and you hum in the affirmative, not trusting yourself to form words. "Come on. Let me hear you. I wanna hear what you sound like when you fall apart." His voice is coming faster and breathier, a light growl at the end of his words. How are you to deny him that?
The speed of your fingers on your clit increases, but it's his own broken whimpers that finally do it. Your back arches as the waves wash over you, and noises you didn't even know you could make escape your lips. You can vaguely hear a broken sigh accentuated by a particularly hot whine from Joel's end. Henry was never as vocal or talkative as Joel is. None of your past partners have been. In the aftershocks of your orgasm, you have a quick passing thought that he might ruin dating for you. You might never want to see anyone else who doesn't treat you like this. You might be fucked.
"Joel," you say when you have control over your thoughts again. He takes a deep breath and clears his throat.
"Yeah?"
"Get the fuck over here now."
Joel's house is on the other side of Austin. With traffic, getting to your apartment can take anywhere from twenty to forty-five minutes, depending on how fast you're willing to go and how many red lights you can pass under. Joel gets there in fifteen. You're still in the flouncy dress you bought specifically to torture him, but by the time you open the door for him, you're much less interested in making his life any more miserable than you already have over the past week.
He doesn't hesitate to charge into your apartment, grab your face, and kiss you like his life depends on it. His tongue sweeps over your bottom lip, and you open to him, clinging to him as his hands move from your face to the backs of your thighs to pick you up. You squeal in surprise and lock your legs around his waist to bring him closer and keep yourself from falling. Even though he obviously came over the phone at the same time you did, he's hard again and pressing against your bare pussy. He hisses when you grind against him, and his jaw clenches as he pulls away like he's in pain.
"Where's your bedroom?" He asks, wide eyes searching the hallway behind you.
"First door on the left." You say as you duck your head to kiss his neck. He sighs and indulges in the feeling of your tongue against his skin before he finally finds his feet and stumbles into your bedroom. You're halfway through marking him before he lays you down and immediately rucks his hands up your thighs, spreading them apart and making you whine.
"You okay?" He asks, stopping all movement to scan over your face for any signs of discomfort. You nod and reach for the buttons of his jeans.
"Yes. Just need you." You say.
"Are you sure?"
"Joel, I just came from the sound of your voice. Yes, I'm fucking sure." You say, a little frenzied as you pull at the hem of his shirt. He laughs as he pulls it over his head and quickly unzips his jeans.
"Feisty."
"Can you blame me?" You ask, and he shakes his head. He tugs his jeans and his briefs down at the same time and unveils all of him to you in one go. He's beautiful. You knew he would be, but seeing the graying chest hairs and the pretty happy trail leading down to his hard cock in between his strong, tan thighs is an entirely different thing. You reach for him, desperate to feel the weight of him in your hands, but he stops you by slipping the tiny straps of your night gown down your arms.
He carefully pulls the fabric down your body until it's pooled next to his clothes on the floor. His eyes fall to the black lines wrapping around your shoulders, and he draws his eyes to your collarbones and sternum, his breathing stuttering at the sight of you laid out under him.
"So much prettier than I imagined." He murmurs as he ducks his head to kiss the valley between your breasts. You smile and run your hands through his curls as he mouths at your chest, leaving red marks in his wake and making you press him closer.
"How many times have you thought about this?" You ask. Has he always wanted you in the way you've wanted him? You're almost positive he has. There's no other way to explain the reverence with which he's looking at you. He's so wrapped up in you it's almost suffocating. Every time you glance at his face, he's staring at you with soft eyes and blown pupils.
"Lost count." There it is. The confirmation. You grab at his ribs to bring him closer, pulling him over you to kiss him slow and deep. Despite the heat of him against you and the ache between your thighs, you both take the time to savor it. That is until his overthinking takes over. "I didn't bring a condom. Fuck, I was in a rush. I didn't think." He says quickly, like he's waiting for you to back out or push him away. You bring your thumb up to the worried wrinkle between his eyebrows and smooth it away, kissing his jaw.
"You think I would get you all worked up to not be prepared? C'mon, baby," you turn the nickname around on him, and he leans into your hand like a cat. "Top drawer." You say. He scrambles to your bedside table and grabs the first one he can find as you move onto all fours while he's distracted. You listen for the foil ripping and the subtle sound of the latex fitting over him. You can't stop the smirk from forming when he looks up and sees the sight in front of him.
"Fuckin' Hell," he mutters. Your back is arched perfectly, your hair gathered over your shoulder, and the tattoo you got done so many years ago is on display for him. "You are so goddamn perfect." He says as he presses his chest into your back and kisses your shoulder. He plants a few more kisses across your neck and back, making you wait longer than you already have, and just when you think you're going crazy, he slowly pushes into you and punches all the air from your lungs.
He's big. Bigger than anyone you've been with before, and he seems to know that. He rolls his hips, and you moan, gripping at the sheets under you for stability as you adjust. His breathing is ragged behind you, and he groans when you involuntarily clench around him. "You okay?" He asks, his voice straining. His patience and self-control should be fucking studied.
"Yeah, I'm okay." You assure him, and he nods. He starts to move slowly at first, but when you start whining and shaking under him, he snaps. You're both impatient. Months of following the rules and caring about what other people could think or say tumble out of your heads as he sets a rough pace. You've been dreaming about this and pushing it away since he walked into your classroom that day, and now that it's happening, you can't hide how desperate you are for him. You cry his name as he fucks into you deeply, no part of your bodies not touching, but it's still not close enough.
"You're so fuckin' good for me, baby. Jesus fuck," he moans into your ear, his uneven breaths echoing into your skull. "You feel so good."
He sits back and brings you with him, changing the angle and forcing him deeper inside of you as his hand snakes around your waist and dips to play with your clit. You curse loudly and dig your nails into his forearm as bright pleasure courses through your veins. "'M gonna come if you keep doing that," you warn, your voice high and strained as he adds a little more pressure.
"C'mon, honey, come on my cock for me. Please, I want it." It could be the slight whine in his voice or the fact that he's begging you for it, or the fact that the tight circles he's rubbing into your clit are making you see stars, but you come hard. You rely on him to hold you upright as he fucks you through your high, the slick between your thighs growing as his own orgasm washes over him, and he moans directly in your ear, an unexpected but not unpleasant gift. You think you could get off again just to the sounds he makes when he's coming.
You stay like that for a second, wrapped up in each other and breathing hard with him still inside you, before he finally finds the courage to slip out of you with only a tiny pained moan. He carefully guides you onto your back, your bones jelly, and kisses your cheek before he pads off to the bathroom to throw away the used condom.
It's quiet again in the apartment, but it's not lonely anymore. He makes himself at home in your space, asking if he can get water and snacks from your kitchen and walking around naked as the day he was born. "I wanna make sure you've got enough energy for round two." He says, making you laugh.
"Are you finally gonna make good on your promise to take your time with me?"
"Fuck yeah." He says, coming back to kiss your lips one more time before walking to the kitchen. It's like if he goes a few minutes without tasting you, he can't function, or at least, that's what he makes it seem like. You're more than receptive to the attention and can only watch as he walks around. Your trust in your legs is not strong enough to get up just yet.
In the domestic silence, it would be easy for your mind to run rampant with rogue thoughts and anxieties, but when Joel returns to the bedroom with snacks, bottles of water, and those stupidly sweet eyes, they get pushed to the back burner. He gets under the covers and pulls you into him, his warm body grounding you to this moment and not letting your thoughts stray. He presses kisses to your hair and your face every so often as you talk about everything and nothing.
Somehow, it feels natural, like you've been doing this the whole time or like everything was leading up to this. Maybe it was. Still, you'll need to talk about this. You know you will.
Just... not yet.
TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk @d1lf-loverrr @vee-bees-blog @moel-jiller @anoverwhelmingdin @casssiopeia @maried01
#hippies and cowboys#joel miller x reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x fem!reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller fluff#joel miller series#joel miller smut#tlou au#the last of us au#joel miller au#the last of us fic#the last of us fanfiction#joel the last of us#the last of us#tlou#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal cinematic universe#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller the last of us
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CODE BROKEN (part 5/5) dark!Joel x f!Reader
pairings: dark!Joelxf!Reader (she's you!)
rating: 18+ (scram youngins!)
Words: 12.0k (wtf how?)
Warnings: femdom (if you squint), hands off, cockwarming, sweet dirty talk, Joel whimpers, sweet!Joel, fluff and angst, protected p in v.
a/n: Y’all this was one of those weird stories that I wrote and posted to A03 that no one commented on. Then just as I was giving up all these people on tumblr and then A03 started being like “we want more dark!joel!” and because I can’t deny you anything, I kept going. And now we’re here and I’m actually kinda heartbroken I won’t be writing about these two anymore. Anyway, I thought this concluded things nicely and if you agree (and even if you don’t) please leave me a comment because I don’t make shit on these. It’s all for the love of writing (and getting’ comments).
Code Broken Parts 1 - 4
==========================================
Code Broken: Total Eclipse of the Heart
Trish's wedding is beautiful and sentimental and everything you knew it would be. Seeing her in the dress you spent months making, beaming as she kisses her husband Cliff makes your heart swell.
When the group throws the multicolored confetti and it lands like snow in her rust colored hair you think it's the most beautiful sight you’ve ever seen.
They've decorated the old church basement beautifully. Handmade bunting hangs from rafters; lopsided cakes made from whatever could be spared from the kitchen line the tables. The children of Jackson are shrieking and laughing as they spin around the crowd of people, darting between legs with icing smeared over their mouths.
You're tired after all the lead up to this event. Exhausted after the preparation, the decorating, and the assurances to Trish that it was no trouble to do it all. Trish holds her son in her arms, smiling up at her husband who presses a kiss to her forehead.
You sit back in your chair at one of the tables watching the crowds drinking and dancing as a few of the locals play a surprisingly in-tune melody with the instruments they possess.
"You did a wonderful job," Maria tells you as she walks by. "Wish I'd had you around for my wedding."
You smile and thank her before you lean back; eyes sleepily half-open as you watch the couple nearest to you spin together.
Mark gives you a wave from across the room, his arm around the waist of Jenny, one of the newer people to have moved here. She gazes are him adoringly and this makes you smile as you return the wave.
You’d never say it, but it makes you feel a bit like an outsider seeing all your friends coupled up. Even though you never needed anyone else, the thought of another person sharing in your life has its appeal.
"Hi there."
The husky voice behind you is quiet and careful. Low enough for only you to hear. You crane your neck to look over your shoulder. Joel is standing there looking down at you seated at the table.
Joel is dressed like most of the men here in jeans and a button up. His hair is combed back and he smells good. Spicy like cologne, a rare commodity in Jackson.
The sight of him pulls at your lower belly. Despite the weeks that have passed since you saw him last, that desire you carry around for him hidden behind your ribs seeps through.
He's staring at you similar to how he was the last time you saw him, dark and heated and you momentarily shrink from his intense gaze.
You haven't seen him since that day in the stables when you rushed off and you expected to be more furious with him. Instead you just feel gentle irritation mixed with a lust you wish you could will away.
"Hi."
He's got his hands in his pockets, standing awkwardly like he's nervous. Joel nervous? You think you must be misunderstanding because Joel Miller is never* nervous.
You've seen him break unruly horses, heard stories of him taking down clickers and Raiders. Why would he be nervous talking to you?
"You look beautiful tonight," he murmurs.
What the fuck?
You blink up at him confusedly. Did Joel Miller just call you beautiful? When you don't answer you see him swallow, eyes going to your shoulder before coming back to your gaze. He looks like he's about to say something but then another voice breaks in between you like a knife slicing through the air.
"Hey come dance with me!"
You both look over to see Mark approaching you with an expectant look on his face, hand held out towards you. His girlfriend Jenny is dancing with some of her friends to the music the band is playing and she gives a cheery wave in your direction followed by a mouthed: "come dance!".
You feel Joel's eyes boring into your profile as you look up to Mark.
"Sure!"
You stand, taking his hand as he tugs you to him. He must notice Joel standing there, half encased in shadows because he starts.
"Oh hey Joel," Mark says with a broad smile. "I didn't see ya there. Just gonna steal this one for a dance."
You can see Joel's cheek tic as Mark spins you away, Joel's dark eyes fixed on you as Mark tugs you around in his arms on the dance floor. You feel strangely giddy at the moment. Almost delighted that Joel is watching you being swept away by another man, even if it is platonic.
You want Joel uncomfortable. You want him to be just as miserable as you've been these past few weeks. Because you can't get him out of your head, you can't stop thinking about it. Can't stop thinking about the softness of your last interaction.
Mark is a very bad dancer, but not as bad as you. He does goofy over exaggerated facial expressions as he kicks out his legs. You laugh breathlessly, clutching onto him when he twirls you around in his arms.
You catch Joel's eyes on you a few times, but resolutely turn your attention anywhere else. You notice Tommy comes up to talk to him, but Joel's eyes never leave Mark's hands on your body. They skim over your hips and you can see Joel's fingers tighten around his drink glass.
Mark guides you towards Jenny and the rest of the group. Trish and Cliff are dancing up a storm and Cliff surprises you by grabbing you by the waist and raising you into a spin that lifts your feet off the ground. You give a shriek of laughter, clutching to his shoulders before he sets you down again. Finally the song is over and you are breathless and sweaty at the temples.
"Thanks, I needed that!"
Mark flashes you a grin before waving you off and going to pull Jenny into a tight embrace from behind.
The music slows and you watch as everyone begins to pair up on the dance floor, hands slinging around waists, heads balanced on shoulders. It makes a tear go through your heart, a sudden feeling of awkward isolation.
You're about to leave the dance floor when you feel the heat of another body behind you. You smell him, wood shavings and leather.
"You wanna dance?"
You turn to see Joel standing there, mouth fixed sternly as he gazes down at you.
Shock floods your system at his words. Is he really asking you to dance with him? He wants to hold you and spin you around on the dance floor in front of all these people? He wants to publically be seen with you?
Joel doesn't dance. He barely attends events like this. You've never seen him at the summer dance party. If he is dragged to an event along with Tommy he sticks to the wall, arms crossed nursing a drink. What kind of game is this?
"Are you serious?"
He allows this insult, amusement clear in his eyes but not the rest of his features.
"I was, yeah."
You think of how shitty he's treated you over the past year. The way he's fucked you every which way and never kissed you. You think of how he's taken you and used you and you sneer up at him, feeling prickly.
"Never."
Joel's mouth twitches into a deep frown and you can see red creeping up his neck. You've embarrassed him.
Good.
Nearby couples are watching this exchange with curious looks. Both of you seem to notice this at the same time.
"G'night then."
Joel gives a sharp nod, backing away from you slowly before his long muscled legs are carrying him out of the church. You watch him leave, your stomach twisting before you throw yourself into a nearby chair, head spinning.
What just happened?
You spend the next hour making polite conversation with the people who pass you, giving Trish a hug when she comes to thank you for the twentieth time for everything.
"I want to have you over for dinner next week," she says, eyes filled with thankful tears.
"You're on."
You make your way back to your house, passing by the still partying group smiling and waving.
When you round on Rancher Street you think about Joel tonight. Of his nervousness and his calling you beautiful. Of asking you to dance in front of everyone. Didn't he care about the gossip? He’s notoriously private.
You can see a light is on in his house and this gives you pause. You consider going home and forgetting everything. Ignoring him for the rest of your days. But then something unknown sends your pulse spiking, something that leads your feet to his door and commands you to knock loudly.
You hear his footsteps pad slowly to the door, opening it and looking at you with surprise. He looks tired and you wonder if you’ve woken him. He’s wearing the same clothes though so you assume you caught him napping on the couch.
"What're -"
You push your way inside, not waiting to be invited. Joel allows this, watching you in confusion as you go to his sofa and shrug off your jacket.
You're looking around at his place, at the empty fireplace and the cracked mug on the coffee table, the book tented beside it. Your fingers absently strum his guitar as you pass it, a small smirk on your lips.
Joel walks towards you slowly, footfalls heavy as he regards you from behind curious eyes.
"Take a seat," you say casually motioning to the sofa as he approaches.
Joel doesn't move, doesn't indicate he hears you. You watch his wide hands twitch at his sides, his dark eyes set on you. You tilt your head back, face serious.
"You owe me this much, Joel."
Joel's tongue goes to one side of his cheek as he considers this. This feels like a standoff, a battle of wills. You wait until he finally gives a nod and lowers himself to his sofa, eyes never leaving yours.
You feel such a mixing confusion of emotions for the man looking at you. No, he's gazing at you. Eyes that were always cold and peering now seem softer around the edges. It confuses you.
You're still standing by the empty fireplace, holding your trembling fingers against the mantle. You take a sharp breath in, quietly.
"Take yourself out of your pants."
Irritation flares there in Joel's features. You've pushed too far.
"N-"
"Joel if you ever want to see me again you'll do this," you say sharply. "I mean it."
You hope that it doesn't come out as breathless as you feel because right now you can barely breathe. This is a big gamble. There's a very good chance he's going to kick you out as he's always done.
But then you think of him calling you beautiful and asking you to dance. You think of the looks he gives you when he thinks you're not looking and you consider that perhaps he might acquiesce.
You school your features, sure not to look shocked when Joel's hand finally goes to his belt, undoing it with one jerked movement of his hand. Then he stills as if waiting for you to admit that this is a game that he doesn't have to continue.
But you square your jaw and cross your arms in front of you. You raise a brow and find yourself getting aroused at the power shift. For once you're telling Joel what to do and much like you were that night in his house, kneeled in front of him, he wants it just as badly as you do.
Slowly his zipper is lowered, his jeans shifted and you watch as he brings his cock from underneath his boxers. You blink slowly.
"Already hard," you say approvingly as your eyes scan his already weeping cock. "Good."
Joel isn't smiling, but he isn't furious either. He's just sitting there, arms moving to either side of him on the back of his sofa. It's as if he's relaxing, about to watch the TV he doesn’t own. He continues looking up at you with big brown eyes, his cock rosy and resting on his lower belly.
He isn't trying to look intimidating. He just naturally is.
He watches you tug down the panties from under your dress, stepping out of them and shoving them into your dress pocket. His eyes move from your pocket to your face as you move to the sofa on trembling legs. He watches as you stand in front of him, knees touching. You take a deep breath, lifting one leg over his until you bracket his thighs.
"What is this?" Joel asks tone icy even as he shifts to accommodate you.
"I need something to come on tonight," you tell him. "And I've decided your cock will do nicely."
He says nothing. He doesn't move, doesn't deny this request. He simply continues to stare up at you. His lack of reaction unnerves you, but you plunge ahead regardless.
"You got a condom?"
Joel reacts slowly, tongue pushing into the side of his cheek once more. He considers your question before his hips shift up as he reaches in and pulls the square foil from his back pocket. He holds it out to you.
"Expecting to get lucky tonight, Joel?"
"Nope."
You raise a brow in disbelief. Joel sighs through his nose irritably.
"Was hopin', not expectin'."
You make a scoffing noise in the back of your throat before you motion to the condom with your hand. You expect defiance from him but he slips it on without question, his movements slow and measured as you watch.
You've always thought his hands were beautiful in a large, masculine way. Tonight is no different watching him hold his thick cock as he pinches the end of the condom before rolling it down.
When he's finished you move him to your entrance, eyes fixed on his face. He continues to stare in silence until you slide your already dripping cunt down his cock.
Then he reacts.
"Fuuuck," Joel groans, head tilted back and eyes slammed shut. You work your way down him, humming as his ridges bump inside, creating delicious friction before you come to rest against his hips.
You can tell he's waiting for you to move, to make noise, to do something. But you just sit there with your legs on either side of him, wrists balanced lightly on his shoulders. For once you'll be the one watching him unravel.
You peer into his face, your eyes sliding along the strong nose, the creases at the corner of his eyes, the fullness of his lower lip. You long to reach out and nibble it. It's sinful to have a mouth that kissable on a man so recalcitrant.
Joel's eyes remain closed, his pulse ticking away in his neck. You see his throat bobbing and then he groans. His broad hands rest gently against your waist, urging you against him. His hips shifting upwards to fuck into you. Your hands go to his chest and you push back from him.
"You don't move. You don't touch."
Joel's eyes snap open, head lifting to stare into your face. You're on his lap, almost at eye level now. You see the fire starting, burning in the dark coals of his eyes. The air is thick with tension, his body almost vibrating against yours.
"And if I do?"
"I'll jump off your lap so quick it'll make your head spin," you tell him sharply. "Then I'll leave and never come back. And I'll make sure my bedroom window stays locked."
This heavy threat hangs between you. To your credit you say it all without trembling. You sound self assured, confident. Even with Joel buried to the hilt inside you, his thick cock pulsing, you manage to stay composed.
Joel considers your proposal but not for long when he feels you begin to rise up off of him. His hands remove themselves from around your waist, returning to the back of the threadbare sofa.
You watch him tense before nodding, his mouth in a grim line of frustration.
Good. He fucking deserves it.
You lower yourself slowly back fully onto his lap, his cock warm and thick as you welcome it between your thighs once more. You sigh softly as it nestles there, filling you deliciously. He always feels so good.
"So I just sit here?" Joel murmurs; his eyes shuttering as he forces his hips to remain still.
You find that his voice is just as potent as his cock, your head tilting forward in order to catch every syllable that passes between those pouty lips of his.
"Uh huh," you say plainly.
Joel gives a solemn nod at this, his eyes not leaving your mouth. His arms are still hanging along the back of the sofa but his hands are tightening against the ridge of it. He braces himself, watching with hawk-like focus as your hips begin to shift again.
You smile at the way he struggles to remain still when your thighs spread over him, flashing the glossy sheen of your inner thighs and cunt. You're already drenched with arousal.
You groan as his length grazes your clit when you move. Your wrists once more go to his broad shoulders for purchase as you begin to bounce slowly in his lap. Your head falls forward slightly, your back arching as you slide along his slick cock. You feel his mouth at your ear, husky and deep.
"M'I allowed to ask for anythin'?"
You pause your motions in surprise by this soft utterance by Joel. You shift your head slightly to find his face inches from yours. He doesn't let anything show in his eyes good or bad. You regard him, body stilled atop his, almost breathing into his mouth when you speak.
"What do you want?"
"A kiss."
The sibilant sound of his request echoes in the following silence. Joel's eyes register hope now, a subtle kind of need that you haven't seen before in him.
You find you can't answer him.
Instead you take him deeper into you and Joel makes a soft humming noise, it seems like it slips past his lips unwillingly. He bites down on his full lower lip, stopping himself.
You can see he's trying not to give in, not to make a sound as you slide up and down on his hips in achingly slow movements. His eyes are closed and his jaw is clenched so tightly you're shocked he doesn't break a tooth.
Your head moves forward, lips grazing his temple.
"You like that, Joel?" You huff against his ear. "You like me using this cock of yours to come on?"
He lets out a shuddering sigh, chest heaving.
"F-f..fuck. Yeah."
Then you feel it, his hand creeping between where you join. His fingers desperately sliding over your clit.
You stand abruptly and he slides out of you so rapidly his hips stutter midair.
"What are you---"
"I told you. Tonight you don't move and you don't touch."
Joel's neck is a blotchy red, his forehead is dotted with perspiration and he looks absolutely wrecked.
When you step back towards him he inhales sharply, eyes on the glistening vee of your legs. You align him to the entrance of your cunt and then slide back down the length of his shaft almost angrily.
"Fuck.... Fuck ... " Joel groans helplessly, doing everything in his power to keep still. You hear the squelch of your cunt as you ride him.
You grip the back of Joel's neck, fingers harshly digging there and forcing his gaze down to where your bodies join.
"You fucking watch," you tell him, cunt squeezing him as you rock against his hips. "You watch and you don't touch."
Joel watches the slick of your cunt drooling down his cock and he almost whimpers, but it's overtaken by a groan.
"Why are you punishin' me?" Joel asks through clenched teeth, eyes fixated on your clit dragging along the hairs at the base of his cock.
"I'm giving you everything you gave me," you tell him with poison dripping from every word, sliding up and down. "Using you to make myself come."
"I never did that," Joel says breathing heavily, eyes now fixed on yours. You can see how they roll slightly back with every twist of your hips.
"Never, Joel?"
"Once," he relents. "Only once. Rest of itttt---"
He breaks off into a guttural grunt as your hips swivel. You feel his cock nudge that sweet spot deep within you and your hips rut against him. You make a whining sound of surprise that you think goes down his spine because he quivers.
"The minute you come I'm fucking you over this sofa," Joel warns, mouth at your throat, lips grazing your jugular.
"I don't think so," you tell him, fingers laced behind his neck. "Once I come I'm going home and going to bed."
Joel's head is heavy against the back of the sofa, his lidded eyes on your face. You move slower over him, wanting extend this. Needing to watch the flicker of his eyes when you hit a good spot, needing to relish the moans that turns into deep pants. When you ease off a moment, your cunt slippery with want his voice drops an octave rumbling through his chest.
"You ever think about me fucking you in your bed, pretty eyes?"
"Yeah," you admit after a pause. "Sometimes."
"I can do it now," Joel purrs up at you. "Make you feel so good."
"Nice try."
You've started to swirl back around his cock and he moans lowly. Your thighs are starting to burn with the effort of bobbing up and down on him. Joel's eyes snap to your mouth, watching it part as you pant and give soft little whines of pleasure.
Joel's eyes blow wide, desperation and hope mingled there. His hairline is damp, his restraint obviously hanging by a thread.
"Wanna come for you," he says, voice quiet.
Having Joel at your mercy feels good. Having him looking at you in the same way you looked at him over the passing months feels like vindication. All too soon you've pulled back, only allowing the tip of his cock to graze your clit.
"Beg for it," you tell him as your hips roll, making him grunt and pitch forward. His hips rise, plunging deeply into you, his body unable to stop itself. You allow it, jolting from his thrust a few moments before you pull yourself off of him, scowling.
"I'm not saying it again, Joel."
Joel groans and his body trembles, actually physically trembles. His head is sagging forward, his eyes looking up at you through his dark lashes.
"I don't ... I can't keep goin'," he says raggedly. "I'm gonna come."
"You’d better not."
Now you turn and face away from him, lifting your dress to bunch at your waist. You look down over your shoulder at him, seeing him looking over your exposed ass with awe. With your back to him you slowly back up and your legs bracket his again.
Joel whispers something urgent under his breath as you lower yourself onto his cock, sitting in his lap. Your legs spread widely, hinging over each of Joel's thighs.
His cock hits you different now, tighter, nudging that pleasured core inside that makes you cry out. Your hands go to Joel's knees, bracing there as you urge his cock deeper into your slippery cunt.
"Please," Joel says through gritted teeth. He's panting now, breath sweet like peppermint huffing against the back of your neck. You twist, eyes cast over your shoulder at him.
"Please what?"
Joel's head lolls forward, eyes slowly cracking open. You looks absolutely ruined and to you, Joel Miller has never looked sexier.
"Please lemme make you come," Joel all but whimpers. You can hear the desperation creeping into his voice. "Then let me fuck you properly."
There is a wild moment where you consider denying him. Where you think of pulling yourself off of him and never seeing him again. Making him ache for you the way you ache for him in those dark, quiet times.
"Please baby," Joel whispers, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides his knuckles are almost translucent. "Fucking need to make you come. Please."
Joel Miller is begging you.
Begging.
Something snaps in you, desire licking between your legs. You tilt back until your spine is flush with his front, his cock still buried in your cunt.
He's gazing down at you, steady and dark and if you didn't know better you'd say your pose could almost appear loving. Your head balanced back on his shoulder, your palm going to stroke his cheek. He swallows at the contact, his mouth drifting towards yours.
"Go on then," you tell him, lips nearly grazing his. "Make me come, Joel."
The words aren't even out of your mouth before he thrusts his thighs apart. Your legs are slung over his, so you feel them parting luridly, exposing your glistening sex to the night air.
One of Joel's hands is sliding up your dress to cup your breast, the other slipping over your thigh to thumb your slick clit between your puffy pussy lips. You quiver at the immediate pleasure of the sensation his touch brings, your cunt tightening around his cock.
"Goddam you feel like heaven," he groans into the back of your neck making you preen.
His hips begin a slow but deepened pace, jostling you in his lap. You groan against his neck, eyes closed languidly.
"That's right," Joel croons when you gasp deeply. "Fucking go on, baby. Take it. S'all for you."
You begin to whimper, shaky needful sounds as your hand clutches at his neck, your forehead braced against the side of his jaw as he fucks into you from behind, holding you there in his lap.
"So good," Joel says in that husky drawl of his. "You're so fucking gorgeous like this."
All too soon you feel that heavy thump between your legs, the building crescendo. Joel groans as he feels you edge your climax, his body quaking under you. He holds you against him tighter, his rumbling moans vibrating against your spine.
"Wanna make you feel so good," Joel rasps in the shell of your ear. "Wanna give you everything. Please come for me, baby. Lemme hear you."
At his last words you begin to shatter against him, an unholy sound breaking from your throat.
"Oh yeah- just like that pretty eyes," Joel says grinding deeply into you, his voice husky in your ear. "Fuck, just like that, yeah. Yeah, fucking use me, baby. Take what you need."
Your hands grip his tightly against your front and you both move together in some carnal dance. Him thrusting deeply into you as you arch back into him. Your throat is exposed and your mouth parts, an inchoate cry on your lips.
"That's my girl," he groans in your ear before pressing sloppy kisses to the side of your bared neck. "That's right baby, you keep goin' just like that."
It's cathartic and overwhelming as everything that has been tensed in your body suddenly releases. It momentarily frightens you in its severity and you cry out.
"Joel!"
"I've got you," Joel soothes, arms holding you tightly against him almost in a bear hug. "Just ride it out. There you go, there you go. Feel all of it, c'mon baby. I've got you."
You do. You ride it out, body shaking against him as you chase your pleasure chanting his name over and over as he murmurs gentle praise against your temple.
"So good....so fucking beautiful... All for you..."
Finally the trembling ceases and you sag in his arms breathing deeply. You feel wrung out, totally exhausted in both body and mind. Joel's soft mouth is on your shoulder blade pressing a long kiss to it. You melt into the sensation, warmed by the feel of his lips on your body.
"Mine."
It's whispered, not meant for you to hear, but you do. It makes your spine straighten and your body lurch from him.
On jellied legs you struggle to a stand, tripping over your own feet as Joel tucks himself back into his jeans, cock still hard when he pulls off the condom.
"Baby, wait -"
But you don't. You're not his baby. This isn't love. This was payment, this was retribution. This wasn't an act between partners or even friends. You're practically strangers to one another.
You push his door open and stagger home, muscles tight. You still can't believe what you just did. The way you just demanded pleasure from Joel. The power you'd felt when he begged to come. You feel heady, you feel...
Empty.
Empty because now as you collapse onto your own sofa you feel tears prick your eyes. Yeah, you fucked Joel Miller. But it doesn't change anything. You're still here in your house alone.
All alone.
You go to the bookshelf, bringing down the album you so often flip through. You open it to the photo of you and your sister at age eight, arms linked as you squint in the sunshine, gap-toothed smiles on display.
You love that photo because you can sometimes remember that day. Remember how the sunshine felt on your bare shoulders, how your sisters arm linked in yours was coated in coconut-scented suntan lotion.
You flip to a photo of you both bent over a pink frosted cake, your sister's sixteenth birthday party. The last photo you took before the outbreak. You think of that night spent laying on the trampoline out back, looking up at the stars.
"I wanna marry a man that looks just like Johnny Depp," your sister said, cheeks red from the days sun. "But he'll be a model too. And he'll take me all over the world."
Your sister had always been about flash, just like your mother. You were so different from them, more serious, more thoughtful.
"What about you?" She asked, candy-scented breath next to your face.
"I want someone who reads and likes the same music, as me," you replied, eyes trailing dreamily over the night sky. "Someone more serious…Someone like Mr. Rochester in Jane Eyre."
"You're so weird," your sister had announced, giggling in your ear.
You look at the album; your sister’s laugh still ringing in your ear. You look at the empty house around you. You think of how much you lost in the outbreak, how little you have now and then you allow yourself to cry.
///
Later that week you go to work, mechanical and distracted. You work only half your shift before telling your co-workers that you'll finish up the rest at home. That you're feeling a bit under the weather.
You gather the fabric into your arms, bidding farewell. Your mind is full, stuffed to the brim with thoughts of Joel Joel Joel as you wander the streets back to your house.
You're so distracted that you don't notice the tall woman in front of you until she calls your name. When you see who it is you stop abruptly, eyes wide.
"Hey," Tess says giving you an awkward wave as she saunters over to you, a bag of bread in her arms.
"Hey," you say equally uncomfortable. You struggle to find something to say, terrified that she's going to start a scene. Does she know about you and Joel in his house?
She can't. There's no anger in her expression or disgust. Just a polite smile that you yourself would use on any other member of Jackson City. You shift the fabric awkwardly in the crook of your arm.
"You uh, you weren't at the wedding."
Her light eyes drop to the ground before slowly making their way back to your face.
My guy was on patrol," Tess shrugs, blushing prettily. "Wanted to be there for him when he got back."
You smile at this, recalling what Trish told you about Tess. Her new partner.
"Besides I still don't know many people actually," Tess forces a smile. "So it seemed weird to go."
A new kind of guilt assaults you. The kind that reminds you all the time she invited you over for drinks, all the walks that you declined with her. The desperate bids for friendship that she threw your way and that you continually ignored.
"Everyone's invited to everything around here," you say, shifting the fabric to your other arm. "Next event we'll go together. I'll introduce you to the group."
"Yeah sure," Tess says with a real smile. "I'd like that."
"Good."
Tess looks momentarily uncomfortable licking her dry lips before fixing you with a serious expression.
"You know you and Joel don't have to hide that you're together for my sake," she tells you with an earnestness that makes you feel choked up. "I'm happy for you both. That's what I keep telling him! But he keeps telling me to mind my own business."
It's like a bucket of ice cold water has been thrown over your head. Tess seems to want to say more when she registers your reaction but she stops, wan smile on her face.
"There is no me and Joel," you finally tell her flatly. "Never was, never will be."
Tess, looks completely flummoxed. Her hands stem at her hips as she looks at you, her brows heavy.
"You sure about that?"
You open your mouth to say something but then pause. Tess waits, head tilted. You find your voice, but it's quieter than before, less certain.
"I barely know him, Tess."
"He's worth getting to know," Tess says simply, no guile in her eyes. "Even if he doesn't agree. He'll show you though if you give him the chance."
You're struck by the woman's sincerity. Guilty about what went on with Joel, ashamed that you could have done it. Confused because it's like Joel is tattooed on your insides, a continual reminder that he exists every time you draw a breath.
"Joel doesn't let a lot of people in," she adds when she sees the conflicted feelings clear in your face. "When the old world ended it changed how we all saw the future. I don't think Joel ever really saw one where he was gonna be happy again. Makes it hard to be pleasant sometimes."
You don't say anything further, unable to come up with a worthwhile end to the conversation.
Tess decides that she'll be the one to end things with a nod and a murmured goodbye. You watch her leave, amazed that Joel could ever let her go.
///
That evening you watch the sun set outside your window. It's a beautiful light orange that sets everything it touches in golden rays.
It's the kind of night where you want to curl in bed and read with the window open. But you haven't unlocked that window in months.
You won't. You can't.
But you think about heading down to the river in the back lots. It's a trek but maybe you need to clear your head. Everything that test told you this afternoon is replaying in your mind over and over.
Did Joel say something to Tess about caring for you? Why did she assume that you were together?
A knock at the door draws your attention. You towel off your hands and stride over to it, pulling the door open slowly.
Joel stands there on your doorstep, a nervous look on his face.
"Can we talk?"
His hands are thrust deep into his pockets. You can only assume that he's here to pay you back for your visit to his and the thought sours your stomach.
"I'm not fucking you, Joel."
"S'not why I'm here."
He seems earnest when he says this and it gives you pause. You see the sweat dotting his forehead, the strain in his expression. This isn't the face of a man who wants to demand something from you.
Silently you open the door further, signaling with your tilted head for him to enter. He does, shooting you a quick, thin-lipped smile and nod before his broad-shoulder-ed frame is inside.
You watch him enter into your home, his tall frame loping towards your fireplace. He glances at books resting on your mantle. His forefinger goes to touch one, the spine of one before he moves on.
He moves around this place casually as if he belongs here. As if he isn't an interloper in your home.
His eyes dart down to your coffee table.
He points at the album opened up to the page you had paused over last night.
"Family photos?"
"Yeah."
"You're lucky you have so many," Joel murmurs, his dark eyes roaming over the many faces of your family.
"My mom grabbed the album before we left," you shrug. "The only thing I still have from before."
You don't know why but you allow Joel to flip through your family album. He smiles gently when he gets to a picture of two girls with missing front teeth holding ice cream cones on the beach.
"You and your sister?"
"Yeah."
He nods, brows heavy. He doesn't ask but he seems to know all the same.
"Watched her turn," you tell him regardless. "Watched my mom kill her."
Joel is staring at you, eyes wide. His hands twitch at his side. If this was the world before, he would offer condolences but on this utterly broken earth they serve no purpose. Instead he stares at you looking both uncomfortable and overwhelmingly sad.
But you don't care how Joel feels. You're tired and you want to go to bed.
"What do you want Joel? Why are you here? You wanna learn about my family? You wanna hear how after my mom killed my sister she killed herself?" You shake your head. "Is this some new game for you?"
Joel shakes his head. "Was never a game to me."
"Right."
Joel can tell you don't believe him. He frowns deeply before lowering himself onto your sofa. He looks expectantly at you, tilting his head to the empty seat next to him.
"I'll stand thanks."
"Suit yourself," Joel says tightly and you can see that familiar need for control in his features. It pleases you to upend it.
"S'never a game to me," Joel repeats. "Can't say the same for you, though, sneakin' into my house to move my shit around. Why'd you start that by the way?"
Now it's your turn to look sheepish. You consider sending him away just so you don't have to answer. But then you think of him coming here after everything that’s gone on the last few days and you relent.
"You hurt my feelings and…I wanted your attention, I think."
"You already had it."
"Not that kind of attention with you being all grumpy," you roll your eyes. "I wanted you to look at me without scowling. I wanted to be friends. The first time you ever noticed me you were so rude!"
"Noticed you long before that," Joel promises. "Noticed you the first week I moved in."
"Huh?"
Joel sighs, as if what he has to say physically pains him. His foot absently taps against your wood floors, giving him time to collect his thoughts.
"I was carrying boxes upstairs to the bedroom. Your window was open I think. I just glanced over cuz something caught my eye. Maybe your curtains or somethin' moving in the breeze." Joel looks almost embarrassed at all the ancillary information he's offered.
"Anyway I saw you sittin' on your bed and you were readin'. Totally focused, didn't even notice me watchin' you while I unloaded boxes."
You narrow your eyes on him with suspicion. "Why would you watch me read?"
"Was relaxin'," Joel shrugs briefly, honestly. "Whenever I caught sight of you, you were just so comforting. I can't explain it properly. . . But then time went on and I happened to see you when you were readin' or cookin' or just out walkin', you were just so calm to look at."
You feel your mouth parting. Joel had been watching you for so long. Much longer than you even had begun to watch him.
"And it wasn't just calm I felt. It was happy. It made me happy to watch you, especially when you smiled," Joel's mouth curves into a small grin as if recalling a specific memory. "You got such a gorgeous smile. Makes your whole face light up."
You're openly gaping at him now. Shocked at these ready admissions of a truth hidden for so long. Confused at this softness, this tenderness.
"I've never seen someone smile so fucking much. Sarah would have just loved you. You and that friend, you smiled and laughed all the time." Joel grows somber, brows saddling. "But you don't smile half as much anymore.. is it cuz of me?"
Yes.
Because I hate that I want you.
"If it is... Tell me," Joel insists. "I don't wanna be the reason you stop smiling, pretty eyes. I'll leave you alone forever if it gets you smilin' again."
He's got puppy dog eyes now. Wide and sorrowful looking. They almost don't fit with the harsh planes of the rest of his face.
"Why do you call me that?" you ask exasperatedly. "Do you not remember my name or something?"
"Course I know your name," Joel says, whispering it now. The sound of it slides over your body like a silk sheet. "S'a beautiful name."
"So then why-"
"I call you pretty eyes because you see beauty in everything. Nature, animals, people. You always wanna help. You want the whole shitty world to be a better place," Joel is shaking his head. "You know how terrifying that is to someone who's given up?"
You don't know what to say.
Joel stands, reaching into his back pocket. He closes his eyes, wincing before he crosses over to you and forces something into your hands. You hold it to your face. It's a photograph, a small one, the kind you yourself used to get in school, sent home glossy and overpriced for your mom to purchase.
It's been folded, creased, lovingly looked at thousands of times, you can tell. It's of a young girl with bright eyes and a brighter smile. A girl with a dimple in her cheek that matches her father. Your finger traces the sweet curve of her face.
"That's Sarah," Joel tells you after a beat. "My daughter."
"She's beautiful."
“She was, yeah.”
Joel's face holds a myriad of emotions all at once. The most prominent of them all however is regret. There's a story there likely similar to your own. You hand him back the photo and he places it back in his pocket.
"I kept going after she was... Taken from me," Joel explains, obviously not wanting to use the real word. "I didn't wanna keep going. But I felt like I had to. I did what I thought I had to and I survived. And when I got here to Jackson I was all alone and all I could think was what was the point? What did I do all this for?"
You nod. Understanding more than you think he'll ever realize. Joel moves back to sit on the sofa, his body tense.
"I thought existing was enough. But then that night I caught you in my closet.... It's like I felt alive again. The good kind of alive- not just needing to live for survival. The kind of alive that has my heart hammerin' and my blood pounding. Makes food taste better for Christ's sake, I don't know how, but it does," Joel is going pink at his neck and cheeks.
"S'like you brought me back from the dead."
You feel the tension, the animosity, the agitation that has been tightening your muscles suddenly release at his words.
"I did?"
Joel nods and he doesn't move closer to you but you have a feeling he'd like to.
"The day after we... The first time," Joel has the good graces to look embarrassedly down at his shoes. "I thought it was better if I stayed away from you."
"Why?"
"Because I was ashamed of myself for how I'd treated you," Joel looks sick as he remembers it, eyes lowered. "But then I saw you that day in the shop lookin' at books and...I just... I was shaking when you walked by me but I just wanted to be near you. I just couldn't stop thinking about you."
You feel like your stomach is doing somersaults. You've never heard Joel talk so much. It makes your head spin. It makes the world feel tilted. Joel is looking at you, concern clear in his features.
"You okay?"
"Yeah," you croak, feeling your legs growing wobbly. You slowly lower yourself to the sofa. Joel joins you and you swallow when his knee brushes yours.
"I've done a lot of things," Joel says. "Things I'm not proud of. Things that someone like you shouldn't have to be around. But I wanted to be around you."
Joel takes a deep breath and you're surprised to see the sheen to his dark eyes. You allow his hand to slowly cover your knee, his thumb giving you soothing rubs.
"I thought about you every day."
Your heart is pounding at his husky admission. But then as those words settle within your mind you grow sullen.
"What about Tess?"
"You were suddenly all chummy with that Markus. The two of you looked like a couple n' you were always with your friend and her husband. You seemed happy and I didn't wanna interfere." Joel frowns. "I knew Tess from way back. Thought it made sense. Wanted it to work. But I couldn't stop thinkin' about you."
You make a scoffing sound.
"I really couldn't," Joel insists, his voice pained. "The night you left my place? I told her I was..." Joel swallows. "I told her there was someone else. She said she'd figured."
"Did you tell her we-"
"No," Joel shakes his head. "You can call me a coward if you want. But it seemed cruel to tell her. Almost as cruel as doin' it in the first place."
You nod in agreement.
"I was terrified when you weren't at home after that. Took a lot of askin' around to find out you were staying with your friend." Joel frowns, eyes limpid. "Was it cuz you didn't wanna see me?"
You can see real fear there in his eyes at your answer and you know that what you say next could potentially devastate him. But the anger you've been carrying around with you like a second skin has fled. Right now you want to be honest like him.
"Not completely," you answer truthfully, shifting uncomfortably on the sofa. "I was also scared I was pregnant."
Joel's head ducks slightly and his voice drops so lowly you don't hear what he mumbles. You ask him to repeat it and Joel exhales slowly.
"I was hopin' you were."
What. The. Fuck.
That was about the last thing you ever thought you'd hear from Joel Miller. You stare at him unblinking, unsure that you've heard him correctly. The entire lower half of his face is flushed, like he's just exposed his biggest secret. Which in a way, you suppose he has.
You think back to that night. Of Joel emptying himself into you with a groan and disgust crosses your features.
"Did you mean to-"
"Fuck no!" Joel answers, the truth immediately apparent in his horrified expression. "Just got carried away that night. No fuck, I would never ... No. Not on purpose. Not without talking to.. Was just after... when I was thinking about it that the idea just .. If it did happen... It maybe didn't seem so awful to me..."
"Jesus, Joel."
Joel nods, grimacing. "I know. I just. . . Thinking of you carrying my baby? Belly swollen and everyone knowing you were mine? That I made you a mama? I wanted it. Wanted that life. I know it was selfish, I know it's fucked up, but it's the truth. I'm trying to be as honest as possible here. No lyin'."
You hate the way this pulls at your lower belly. The desire that licks there. Joel wanting to put his claim on you in the most permanent way possible has you slick between your legs. Despite how fucked up it is, despite how wrong, you can't help but feel turned on.
What is wrong with me?
Logic and reason prevails and you feel your resolve strengthening. You tilt back from his hand on your knee, pulling your legs against your chest as you press against the arm at the other end of the sofa. Joel watches you retreat from him, face falling.
"Joel you just like fucking me." You spread your arms wide. "That's all this has ever been."
"For you maybe," Joel shakes his head. "S'not just that. Not for me."
"How would you know?"
"Cuz I wanna spend time with you," Joel explains, bright eyes on yours. "Be near you. Not just fucking."
You don't know what else to say. How would you ever know if that was true? Too much has happened between the two of you.
"Can I show you?"
You glance up at Joel, brows raised. Show you?
"Show me what?"
"What I wanted more than anything since the last time I saw you?"
It's a trick. A way to let him further into your home. Payback for what you did to him.
No no no. Don't let this happen again you fool.
And yet you barely hesitate. After everything he's confessed to you there is no ire left in you.
"Okay."
Joel's sudden smile is wide and warm and so damn grateful that it pulls at your heartstrings. He stands, holding his hand out to you. You look at his palm briefly before you take it, feeling as his large, warm hand wraps around yours.
He holds you tightly and the both of you pad upstairs. The stairs creak under your combined weight but you barely hear it over the rush of blood roaring in your ears.
Joel is in your house. Joel is touching you. Joel is being tender. Joel Joel Joel. The man you couldn't stop thinking about. The man you hate yourself for wanting because he’s so cold. But tonight he’s so warm.
You reach the threshold of your bedroom and stop, looking at him curiously. He gives a nod, silently asking for your trust.
Despite everything you give it, walking into your bedroom and waiting as he follows you.
"Where's your nightclothes?"
You point to a dresser drawer. He nods, going over to it and pulling it open. You watch in quiet fascination as he pulls out a pale yellow nightdress with ruffles at the shoulders.
"S'pretty," he murmurs looking at it. "You like this one?"
"Yeah."
You're confused when he takes your hand in his again and walks you to the bathroom. The wide, aged tub in there is turned on. A luxury you don't often take advantage of because you prefer showers.
While the warm water is filling, Joel places the nightgown beside the sink. He turns to you and you can see him take a nervous inhale.
"Can I undress you?"
Again you barely hesitate. You nod and he closes the distance between you.
His blunted fingers move slowly over the buttons of your cardigan, your skirt. You watch Joel's face the entire time, taking in the way his mouth twists lightly to the side as he concentrates. He undresses you with quiet patience, his eyes warm and soft. Your clothes are slipped gently from your body, folded (much to your gentle amusement) and placed on the counter next to the nightdress.
You watch him take a deep inhale before his hands skim around your bra to unhook it. Your breasts fall, released from the cotton fabric. Joel looks at your flushed face, his breathing shuddering. But he slips the bra off your shoulders and places it with the rest.
Your heart is thundering in your chest. You feel your nipples tightening as his eyes fall over them, a look of reverence in his features. You wait for his mouth to descend, or his hands to knead them.
But instead his fingers come to rest on your hips, thumbs curling around the band of your panties. You feel your breath growing uneven at the thought of being completely bared to him. He hears it, registers it and his dark eyes flit to yours.
"This still okay?"
You nod, trying to steady your breath. Joel smiles, eyes going to your mouth. You know he wants to kiss you but instead he blinks and lowers himself to kneel in front of you.
There on his knees before you, like you're his own personal altar, Joel slowly begins slipping your panties down your thighs, your calves, until you step out of them with your hand on his shoulder for balance.
Finally you stand there in front of him naked. You feel vulnerable and turned on all at once. He's still kneeling, eyes drifting everywhere as if he's trying to memorize you. Your face heats as his wide eyes slide over every piece of exposed flesh.
His finger trails over the scar at your ribs, unseen to him before now. His eyes go to your face as he stands, hand coming to drift over your cheek.
"You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he murmurs huskily. But he doesn't make any further move to touch you.
You think that this is what he's been after since you arrived back home. That he's just wanting to fuck somewhere new. That this was an elaborate way to break down your barriers. You fold your arms over your breasts, hand coming to hide your sex.
You watch in confused silence as Joel strips as well, tugging off his shirt and jeans and boxers until he's standing there in front of you naked, his cock semi hard. He stands waiting, letting you have your turn at gawking. Despite the vulnerability of his nakedness, be excudes a powerful dominance, his frame large.
His masculine body is beautiful, his shoulders broad and the skin golden and littered with pale scars. You can't help but touch the swell of his biceps, fingers trailing over and down to his wrist. He shivers when you touch him and you see his cock hardening. He goes to cover himself.
"You're gorgeous," you blurt, heart swelling when you see him give a shy grin at your words. He tilts his head away from you, his face pinking. Shy.
Joel Miller is shy.
The tub is full now and Joel turns the tap to stop. He steps in first, testing the heat before holding a beckoning hand to you. With a quirked brow you take it, allowing him to lower you both to sit in the tub. You go in front and his long legs go to either side of you.
You marvel at the gold skin of his legs and the dark hair that grows there. This skin, previously a mystery shown to you up close. You can't stop yourself from reaching a hand to his ankle and brushing the delicate bone there. His damp hand skims up your spine, he too marveling at this new piece of you exposed to him.
Eventually he urges your back against his chest and you let out a small whisper of a groan his fingers come to your neck and begin to massage.
"This okay?"
"Mhmmm."
You go boneless as Joel's hands work your neck and shoulders as the water surrounds you. The warm bath feels so good and Joel's touch is so comforting.
Finally his hands are removed, once more going to urge your back against his front. He holds you loosely, fingers trailing over your forearm.
You sit for several moments in the quietly lapping water, feeling Joel's chest constrict and expand as he breathes behind you. Your eyes fall shut, lulled by your surroundings and you hear him fumbling with a bottle before you hear the squeeze of your shampoo bottle.
His wide hands go to drag the shampoo through your hair. The sensation of his fingers carding through your tresses makes every hair on your body stand on end in pleasure.
"You've got beautiful hair," Joel says softly, marveling at it as he rubs your scalp. "Thought so the first time I saw you."
You think of that day with the book when Joel had approached you, when he had smoothed a wayward strand of your hair between his fingers.
"Thanks."
You go limp against him, body melting into his light touch. When he talks it reverberates through your back. You muse that you could fall asleep like this. His chin grazes the top of your head.
"You enjoy that Jane Eyre book?"
He speaks gently as if he doesn't want to disturb your serenity.
"Yeah I did," you say smiling genuinely. "It was one of my favorite books from before."
"Mine too."
This surprises you a moment that he remembered until you recall the books he was going to lend you months ago. He'd had so many that you yourself had loved.
Joel seems so closed off, a hermit, almost a luddite in your mind. But he plays beautiful music and he reads wonderful books. There's so much to uncover about him.
"What do you think is Bradbury's best work?"
"Easy," you can feel Joel smiling behind you as he continues lathering. "Fahrenheit 451."
"You're crazy," you insist with an amused laugh. "It's the Martian Chronicles!"
"Never," Joel insists with a playful tug of your hair. "I bet you'll say Dandelion Wine was good."
"It was!" You insist, craning your head to face him with a faux outraged expression. He's grinning back down at you, his face glowing in the gentle light of the sunset outside the window.
"S'okay," he murmurs with his soft eyes sweeping over your face. "We don't have to agree on everything."
You nod, and he turns his attention to the pitcher next to the bathtub.
"Tilt your head back, pretty eyes."
You do so, eyes closing as Joel scoops water up into the jug and rinses the shampoo from your hair.
You feel at ease here in the water with Joel, you both just existing in the gentle warmth. You wish you could straighten your body out over him. You feel like a cat longing to stretch out in a sunbeam.
It makes you feel soft and gentle towards Joel. You find yourself wanting to know more about him, about the life he had before everything went to shit.
"What did you do before everything?"
"Contractor." His fingers make sure not to miss a strand of your hair with the water. "Tommy n' I had our own company."
He tells you a bit about the construction company, about how it was fun and exhausting being his own boss. It's easy to imagine Joel hammering away at wood planking, driving a beat up old truck down some winding streets.
He asks you about yours and you muse that the only job you had before the outbreak was working at a video store.
"Must be why you like those movie nights here," Joel muses. You look up at him, grinning, delighted that he remembers this fact about you.
"Yeah."
His eyes drift lazily down from your eyes to your mouth and you know what he wants because now you want it too. Desperately.
He won't make the first move, you can tell. So it's you that tilts up to press your lips against his. You feel your entire body tingle as he sighs against you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders from behind.
It's a sweet, soft thing that ends with him pulling back and pressing another gentle kiss to your cheek and forehead before he moves back to working on your hair.
You talk quietly back and forth about life before the outbreak. He tells you that Sarah always fell asleep during movies, even the ones she picked out. He tells you that he was almost married but then his fiancée backed out and left him with his infant daughter. You tell him that your sister was your favorite person. You tell him that your first kiss was under the bleachers at school.
When he begins to massage the conditioner into your scalp your head falls back and you let out a whimpered moan. It feels heavenly to be cared for like this. You've never had this.
At the first strains of your cry you feel Joel's cock hardening further against your lower back. Arousal pools in your belly and your hand moves under the water, instinctively going to grip him. He twitches at the contact.
"Not tonight, pretty eyes," Joel murmurs, gently urging your hand off of him and pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.
You continue sitting there between his legs confused as he rinses the last of the conditioner from your hair, his hardened cock pressed between your bodies.
He's hard and he doesn't want you to touch him?
He shampoos and rinses his own hair before he stands, pulling you from the water tenderly by the hand. He drains the tub, moving to grab your towel from the hook by the door.
With a softness you didn't expect from him, Joel gently towels you off, drying each inch of your flesh before tugging your nightdress on over your body.
He pulls on his boxers before you both pad back to your bedroom. He pulls back the covers of the bed, urging you to crawl in. You do so and you look expectantly up at him, noticing his hesitation as he lowers the blankets around you, tucking you in. He takes a moment to look at you, cheeks pink from the steam of the bath, eyes sleepy.
He leans over, kissing you full on the mouth in a way that's all sweet. It's a kiss of tenderness that has you exhaling into his mouth.
This version of Joel is so fucking appealing. This open, soft Joel that talks to you about everything. This Joel that touches you with no aim other than to make you feel good and cherished.
"I'm gonna get dressed and go," he says in a whisper as he pulls back from your lips. His knuckles trace your cheek as he smiles serenely down at you. "Can I see you tomorrow?"
You realize that the bath, that tenderness is what he'd wanted. He hadn't been expecting sex at all and for that reason alongside many others, you want him to stay. You reach out from under the covers, grabbing his wrist.
"I don't want you to go."
He pauses, his dark eyes scanning yours. He's hesitant and you know that he's worried you'll see this evening as transactional when you know it's been anything but.
"I want you to stay, Joel."
Joel contemplates a while longer before he finally nods. He pulls back the covers, climbing between the sheets beside you. He's warm from the bath and you instinctively snuggle back against him. His arms eagerly wrap around you and in them you feel a security you haven’t felt in decades.
Joel strokes your arm absently, kissing your shoulder only once before his head is back on the pillow, the two of you watching the moon hanging low in the sky. From where you lay you can see the roof of Joel's house. You think of how this started and you hold in a laugh.
"Sometimes I'd watch your house as I was falling asleep," he tells you, feeling bold in the darkness. "If your light was on I felt like everything was okay in the world. S'like your light was my moon."
You smile at that. Under the covers you're both warm, your hair damp. It feels domestic, not rushed or dirty. It makes you feel vulnerable as your bodies press next to one another in the bed.
You look behind you at Joel in the blue darkness, your hand brushing an errant curl from his forehead as you twist to face him. Your mouth finds his again and you sigh as your lips move against one another.
You assume that this is when he'll fuck you or at least make gentle love to you, but he does neither. He just holds you, bringing you against his body and curling around you, as if he's protecting you from the elements. It seems natural to him, to be a protector.
"You told me you weren't a good man," you whisper to him in the darkness. "But I think you might be."
"I'm not. I've done terrible things," Joel grimaces. "You know firsthand."
He strokes your hair, hand heavy before he continues.
"I'm so sorry for how I treated you. I.... I didn't know how to act. I'd wanted you so fucking long and you were there and I couldn't help myself. But s'not a good reason. I was a fucking asshole. I don't blame you for hating me."
"I don't hate you Joel," you say with honesty. "Don't hate anyone, really."
"That's what I lo- like about you," Joel says, voice catching. "Not a mean bone in your body."
"I dunno about that," you shrug. "Took great pleasure in refusing to dance with you the other night."
You can hear Joel smile at that behind you. "S'okay. I deserved it."
The silence stretches on a little longer.
"I'd say yes," you say in a quiet voice. "If you asked me again."
Joel doesn't reply, but he pulls you tighter against him, burying his face in your damp hair.
You've never slept with someone in this bed. You think that it will be a hardship and you're shocked at how easily you fold into his embrace, how calm you feel and you drift into a peaceful slumber.
When you wake up the next morning he's still asleep, dark lashes fanned over caramel cheeks. His arm is slung over your waist, as if in sleep he's worried about you leaving.
You watch him breathing slowly, his full mouth parted. You think that he looks so peaceful like this, so open. You can't help yourself and you graze a kiss against his lips.
Joel's eyes flutter open to see you staring at him with glossy eyes. His mouth curls into a sleepy smile and he brushes his knuckles against the curve of your cheek.
"Mornin' pretty eyes."
His voice is low and rumbling with sleep. It's a sound that feels good in your ear. A sound that travels down between your legs and pulses.
You kiss him again, a little longer this time. His hand is at your jaw, holding you lightly. There's no harshness in how he touches you now. You pull back, resting your head on the pillow next to his.
You both gaze at one another, eyes locked. You think you can see eternity in the dark galaxy of his gaze.
There's something about this moment that feels safe to you. Safety. And something else. Something that feels too early to speak aloud. A feeling that eluded you for so long. Tears spring along your waterline.
"Joel .. I-" you don't know what to say or how to say it. But Joel understands because he feels the same. His smile turns serious and you watch as his own dark eyes begin to grow damp.
"I know, baby," Joel rumbles. "I know."
With tears in your eyes your mouth seeks his out again, your hands going to his bare shoulders and gripping.
He holds you against his chest, both of you kissing for what feels like hours. He holds your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks. As if he's trying to atone for all those times he never kissed you, never cherished you properly.
"I want you," Joel murmurs against your ear as you nestle against him. "Want you to read with me on my couch in front of the fire and sit next to me at those movie nights. I want everyone to know you're my girl. Wanna make up for all those times I was an idiot. Wanna make you laugh and smile like you used to. Can I?”
Your heart expands, your own hands cupping his cheeks. This man that you've wanted, that you've denied yourself wanting. He's looking at you with those big eyes, the ones that often seem so sad and so serious.
"I want that too," you murmur. "Want you to teach me guitar too. Promise I won't hide it anymore."
Joel grins against your lips, recalling how all of this first began. He licks into your mouth as you whimper, the desire for him overwhelming you. There will be more discussions, more moments where Joel will fight to prove himself worthy of you. But for right now you simply want him.
Languid movements against each other turn into both sets of hands seeking bare flesh and moments later after your gentle urging of a condom into his hand, Joel raises himself above you, mouth on yours as he slides between your thighs slow and sweet, murmuring how much he wants you, adores you. His voice holds you, warms you as you keen, arching against him.
He takes his time, brushing the thankful tears from your eyes with his lips. You kiss his away from the corner of his eyes. He watches your body move underneath his with awe, as if he's actually seeing you for the first time. In a way it's like you both are.
And much like the bath last night Joel holds you tenderly, makes you feel beloved. He doesn't take, he just gives, over and over kissing praises into your skin, pressing devotion between your legs.
"I want you to take it," he whispers against your neck as your thighs bracketing his hips begin to tremble. "It's all for you, pretty eyes. Everything."
You know what he means.
When you two fall back against your pillow breathing unsteadily a short while later you can't help but smile in disbelief. You tilt your head to see that Joel is doing the same and you roll into his waiting arms, giggling.
Your window stays unlocked after that.
#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#joel miller#dad joel miller#fanfic#fanfiction#pedro pascal#smut#mean!joel#dark!joel x reader#dark!joel#dark!joel miller
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In Your Dreams
parings ✦ Eddie Munson x Reader
summary ✦ Eddie was your childhood best friend. What happens when he was a dirty dream about you? Will it tear you apart or bring you two closer? contains smut
authors note ✦ feedback and reblogs appreciated <3
I’m reposting this one because a few hours after posting this my account experienced a glitch. That stopped my posts from showing up in tags. Tumblr claims they fixed it so hopefully you can see this
⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹
“What the hell was that?” Eddie groans looking down at his morning hard on. The details of the dream he had replaying in his mind, over and over again. He just had a sex dream about his best friend.
Eddie still remember the day you moved to Hawkins. You were so young, moving into a trailer a few spots down from him. Eddie was only nine years old and was ecstatic when he found out there was a kid moving just down the street. He was surprised when he found out you were actually a little girl but that never changed anything. Didn’t take very long for you two to become best friends.
Never once had he thought about you in any way but platonic. Sure he knew you were beautiful. He also definitely noticed when your breast started to grow in junior high but tried his best not to stare. Even when Jeff and Gareth were gawking at you, whispering behind your back. Eddie always telling them to shut the fuck up.
So when Eddie woke up from a dream he remembered so vividly, the dream where he was balls deep in someones pussy. Only to look up and it was you, smiling down at Eddie. The worst part is he enjoyed it even more when he realized it was you. The sound of his alarm had woke him up from the wet dream.
He thought for a moment about rubbing it out but deciding that’d be too weird. Stroking his cock while thinking of his best friend. Instead letting himself suffer, giving him self blue balls.
Eddie’s been giving you rides to school ever since he saved up enough money to purchase the van. Something you’ve done hundreds of times. This morning it felt different, Eddie wasn’t nearly as friendly as he normally was.
“Hey Teddy.” You smile, climbing into the passenger seat. Calling him the nickname he pretended to hate but you knew he secretly loved it.
“Hey,” he says flatly, not daring to look your direction.
“Everything okay?” You ask, concerned.
“Yeah I’m fine.” He finally looks your way and gives you a not so reassuring smile. Only for you to notice he’s shoots a glance to your chest. He notices you noticing and scrambles to start the car. What the fuck was that?
The drive was filled with silence, not a word said between you two. The tension thick enough you could cut it with a knife. Pulling up to school Eddie gets out without saying a word, leaving you in the car alone.
Your mind starts to race, trying to remember what you could of possibly done to make him so short with you. Also what was that about, he was definitely checking your tits out. You look down at your cleavage, it’s not anything more then it usually was. Eddie’s seen you in less and never let his eyes wonder.
—
The first half of the school day was absolutely miserable for Eddie. Normally couldn’t focus in class but today it was ten times worse. The mental image of your chest bouncing in his face as you rode his cock, heavy on his mind. Walking from class to class, book covering his boner.
He felt terrible for being so short with you but when he did look your way he was most definitely checking you out. Which you noticed so he freaked out and drove off, not saying a single word to you. Even leaving you alone in his van. He cursed himself for being so rude knowing he’d have to see you at lunch, the meeting tonight and when he gives you a ride home. Thinking to himself, ‘I could give her something else to ride’ before pushing the thoughts away as quick as they came.
—
When lunch finally rolls around, your a little late but you make your way to the lunch table. You’ve sat here hundreds of times, only this time Eddie was no where to be seen. Your sat next to Jeff, quiet which was strange for you.
“Everything ok?” Jeff asks, noticing the change in your behavior and the absence of Eddie.
“I dunno, Eddie was really weird this morning.”
“How so?”
“So short with me. Haven’t seen him since, I feel like he’s avoiding me. I saw he yesterday and everything was okay. Suddenly this morning he can’t stand to be near me.”
You sigh frustrated, “Do you know what his deal is?”
“Never know with that dude.” He laughs, obviously not taking this as seriously as you.
“Where even is he? We always have lunch together at this table.”
“I have no idea.”
“He’ll have no choice but to face me at tonight’s meeting.” You groan annoyed, standing up deciding to head to class early. No reason to sit here and let your mind race with the worst possible outcomes.
-
“Yo Eddie what’s your deal?” Jeff asks walking into the drama room. Eddie is busy setting up for DND.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been totally M.I.A today dude. Stressing y/n out.” Jeff says, plopping down in his regular seat.
“Nothing. It’s stupid. I’ll get over it.” He mumbles to him self as the rest of the guys start to pile in.
“She totally likes you, don’t give her the cold shoulder dude.” Eddie looks at Jeff more confused then ever.
“Wait what? There’s no way.”
“Dude be so fucking for real right now. I know your a little slow but it’s so apparent.” Jeff laughs.
“What? Y’all talking about Y/Ns undying love for Eddie?” Dustin chimes in, laughing with Jeff.
“You guys don’t know what your talking about.” Eddie says matter of factly.
“What are you guys talking about?” You ask startling Eddie. None of them had noticed your arrival.
“Nothing.” Eddie spits out. Against your better judgement you take a seat next to him. You sat next to him every time, so what makes today any different. That’s until you realize all eyes are on you.
“Just tell me.” You whine, curious what you interrupted. Wondering if it has to do with why Eddie’s acting so weird today.
“Just talking about how you have a giant crush on Munson.” Gareth laughs, everyone shoots him a ‘why the fuck did you say that’ type of look.
“In your dreams.” You tease, laughing because they’re right and now your embarrassed. Your attention goes to Eddie trying to gauge his reaction but his eyes go wide. Can’t even look your way. He stands up and runs out of the room, leaving you behind with the guys staring at you.
“Gareth why would say that?” You say before leaving the room to follow Eddie. Knowing that things will probably never be the same.
“Eddie wait!” You yell as your catching up to his van, where’s he’s sat inside. Just as your about to let yourself in he locks the doors from the inside.
“What the fuck Eddie? Why are you avoiding me?” He turns the key in the ignition like he’s going to leave.
“I swear to god Eddie if you leave me I will show up at your house, break your fucking door down. You will have to talk to me sooner or later.” He sighs giving up and shutting the car off before unlocking the door so you can get in. You sit in silence for a few moments unsure of what to say.
“Is this about what Gareth said?” You speak up. Eddie’s looking out the window, his body language is stiff.
“Did I do something? Whatever I did I’m sorry I hate whatever this is. This has been the worst day ever.” Eddie’s heart aches knowing that your so torn up because he’s too scared to look at you after the dirty dream he had. Awakening feelings he didn’t know he had. Wondering if they’ve always been there just too afraid to act on them because he never wants to lose you.
“No you didn’t do anything.” He finally speaks up.
“Then what is it?” Silence fills the air again.
“You know you can tell me anything, Eddie.”
“I’m terrified.” He says his voice low and shaky.
“Of what Eddie?”
“That if I say what I’m thinking I’m going to say. You’re gonna run away. I can’t lose you.”
“You’re never gonna lose me. Just spit it out.” Eddie’s hands cover her face before he lets out a large sigh.
“I had a dream about you.”
“What were we doing?” You ask, curiously.
“We were uhhh,” his voice trails off. Now you need to know what this dream consisted of. You have an idea.
“Say it.”
“We were fucking.” He finally says hands still shielding his face.
“How did that make you feel?” You ask, scooting closer.
“I liked it. Probably liked it too much. Then when Gareth opened his fat fucking mouth you said in your dreams, I lost it like fuck she has to know. How the fuck did you know?” He whines, removing his hands so he can finally face you.
“I didn’t.” You laugh.
“I’ve been avoiding you because I can’t stop reliving the dream in my mind, walking around with a boner all fucking day.” You look to his crotch and there is a tent in his jeans. It turns you on thinking you’ve caused Eddie all this torture today.
“I bet the real life thing is ten times better.”
“What?” Eddie asks.
“Maybe we can make your dream a reality. Just an idea.” You shrug your shoulders, trying so hard to read Eddie’s response.
“Are you being serious?” He questions.
“What exactly were we doing?” Eddie’s dick twitches thinking about his dream for the millionth time today. Excited because it might become true.
“You were on top.”
“On top of what?” You ask innocently, wanting to hear all the details.
“Me. You we’re riding me, your tits bouncing in my face.” His voice is shaky and you’re enjoying it.
“Is that why I caught you staring at my cleavage today?” Eddie nods yes like he’s to ashamed to admit out loud.
“It’s okay, you can look. You can even touch if you want.” Eddie looks but it’s not nearly enough for you.
“Can I kiss you?” He nods yes again and you waste no time, kissing his lips. Eddie’s hesitant but that quickly fades when you guide his hand under your shirt, he cups your breast. You take the opportunity to explore the tent in his jeans, palming his dick through his jeans. He lets out a small moan so you pull away from the kiss.
“Did you like that?” You ask hand still on his groin.
“Yeah.”
“I can make you feel so good. You want that?” You ask, still palming his cock through his jeans. Eddie moans yes, so you lead him to the back of his van.
“Here?” He asks, getting comfortable.
“Yeah we’ll just have to keep it down.” You grin sitting between his legs pulling the waist of jeans down along with his underwear. Revealing his large throbbing dick, pre cum sitting on his tip.
“Where the fuck have you been hiding this?” You start pumping his cock, watching the pleasure flood his face. Small whimpers leaving his mouth.
“So good,” he whines.
“I bet. Walking around all day long hard because of me? No way to release it.” He nods as your lips meet with the tip of his penis before swallowing as much as you can. Your tongue moving as you go up and down. You hand playing with his balls. You look up and through your lashes you can see Eddie unfolding in front of you. His moans fill the van, not being quiet at all. Eddie starts pushing down on the back of your head, forcing you to gag on his dick. Tears start to fill your eyes. You can feel the pool growing in your panties.
You push against his hands to catch your breath, spitting all saliva that’s built up onto his dick. Going back down on him, this time pushing your own limits. Making your self gag on his giant cock.
“If you don’t stop I’m gonna cum,” Eddie speaks panting. You stop what you’re doing and start taking your shorts and panties off, aligning your entrance with his cock.
“You weren’t wearing a shirt,”
“What?” You ask confused.
“In my dream.” You laugh before ripping it off throwing it to the side. Eddie’s eyes gawk at your exposed tits, even bigger and better than he had imagined. You grab his hand, leading it so he can feel how wet your cunt is.
“See how wet you make me.” You moan as he explores your pussy, fingers sliding through your lips before making slow circles on your clit.
“It’s about you today. Making your dreams come true, Teddy.” He helps you line up his dick with your hole. You slowly drop onto it, enveloping his whole cock with your warm wet pussy.
“Fuck.” Both of you are moaning. You move your hips back and forward, Eddie’s hands find you hips, guiding you. His dick fills you up perfectly. You’ve never felt so full. It’s like his dick was made for your pussy.
“You’re so fucking beautiful.” Eddie whines.
“Everything you’ve ever dreamt of?”
“Yes,” he moans, you drop to his level still riding him so you can kiss him intensely. You’re sweating, it’s hot as fuck in this van. The windows fogging up. The thought of possibly being caught turning you both on more. You pull away so you can pick up your pace. Eddie’s hands find their way to your boobs, squeezing tightly.
“I’m so close,” he says.
“Cum inside me.” You purr sending Eddie over the edge. His warm cum shoots inside you, you ride out his high slowing down.
You lay down next to him, breathing heavily. You two take a moment to catch your breaths. Trying to wrap your mind around what just happened and what would happen after this. You two could never go back to just being friends.
“I feel terrible.” You whip your head towards him.
“I just sucked your dick and then rode it till you came inside me and you feel terrible?” Anger threatening to come out in your voice.
“It was amazing. I just so caught up in it I didn’t make you finish.”
“I said today was about you. Making your dream come true. It can be all about me next time.” You laugh.
“Next time?” He asks.
“If you want that.”
“I definitely want that.”
“Good.” You smile kissing him one more time.
—
“What happened? Where did you guys go?” Jeff asks as you two sheepishly rejoin them in the drama room.
“We talked it out,” Eddie says sitting down. More like fucked it out but whatever.
“Just made his dream come true.” You laugh, Eddie shoots you a look.
“What?” Jeff asks.
“Ignore her.” Eddie demands and everyone goes back to playing DND. Eddie and you spend the whole game eye fucking each other. Counting down the minutes till you’d have him alone again, him doing the same.
#eddie imagine#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson pov#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie x reader#eddie x you#eddie munson smut#stranger things x reader#eddie stranger things#stranger things#stranger things 4#stranger things smut#joseph quinn x reader#eddie my beloved#munson#eddie x y/n
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Hey love, it's me again! *hehehe*
How would TF141 react to finding out that their girlfriend comes from old money and is filthy rich and her parents are hell-bent on getting her married off to some other old money dude whom she does not like.
Money problems - 141
Pariring: 141 x Rich!Fem Reader
Warnings: Violence?,Marriage arrangements,Fluff
John Price:
Well First it was the money…How the HELL did he not know?
He always saw you in designer, you always had your nails done and hair done, people always gave you looks in public and whispered.
And you didn’t really go out to eat unless the place was practically empty.
So when he found out to say he was shocked was an understatement he was astonished. But you then had to introduce him to your hell hole family that you hated.
He dressed his nicest and acted the exact way you told him to but your family seemed so bored and unimpressed.
“Right so…This is only temporary because we know a man who has agreed to marry you-” Your mom spoke up and you rolled your eyes tucking your tongue under your lip and Price knew that look he just sat there and let them have it. “I’m not getting married to some stuck-up rich boy jesus christ! Every time I visit we have this conversation.” Your mom tried to reason with you, “Well we wouldn’t if you had just found a nice man-” You cut her off and practically screamed at her. “I DID HE’S RIGHT THERE!! WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU NOT SEE? SURE HE MAY NOT HAVE A MILLION DOLLARS LAYING AROUND-” “Listen ma’am I understand you want your daughter to marry someone with your kind of wealth but rest assured I can take perfect care of her-” You glared at John and he closed his mouth and let you talk. “See my point is I’m happy, how old is he?” “56.” “EXCUSE ME??” You spit your wine back into your glass and John held your hand under the table as he stood up with you.
“Odd, because I actually have a huge announcement.” And that's the story of how he proposed. In front of your pissed off parents and they were even more pissed when you said yes. But when your father got too old and had to pass down the family business to him? Man the look on his face was worth mass amounts of money.
What pissed him off the most is the business has never made so much money until John ran it. And you loved every bit of his sour expressions and dirty looks.
John 'Soap' Mactavish:
So it was pretty hard to keep any secret from Johnny, not that he was invasive or over-jealous. No not at all it’s just because he’s so easy to talk to and he’s caring.
So when you told him about your family and money he wasn’t too shocked I mean he noticed the designer stuff and the people whispering, he absolutely adored you though and didn’t wanna make a scene on it.
But when you practically dragged him to a suit store and then made him meet your parents he was shitting his pants.
You all went out to a fancy dinner and he shook your fathers hand and your mother as well but they didn’t seem impressed then you all sat down and looked over the menu.
“So, we found you a man. 56, he’s agreed to marry you.” John looked up from the menu, shocked as he gave you a side-eye of worry. “What? Absolutely not. I took time out of my day to introduce you to my boyfriend who by the way I LOVE. I shouldn’t have even bothered coming, I knew this would happen!”
John watched you yell at your parents and fight back and forth until he was snapped back into reality. “SO WHAT IF HE’S NOT RICH HE’LL TAKE OVER YOUR FUCKING BUISSNESS ONE DAY!!” And he cleared his throat and grabbed your hand under the table. “Well uhm…Nice meeting everyone here. I think I’ll take my leave with my lovely girlfriend.” And he waved them an awkward goodbye as he took you into the car, opening your car door for you and making sure you were settled as he got into the driver seat and put the car in drive.
“Let me guess..Taco bell and your favorite movie?” “Please. I can’t stand my family.” Tears streamed down your face but he rubbed your thigh and comforted you and made sure you were okay.
And to your word, he did end up running that company about 7 years later.
Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick:
Now he knew you were loaded, he just put two and two together and he didn’t care, even if you didn’t have any money he’d still love you the exact same.
So that being said, when you guys had a movie night and your mom called you and you put her on speaker he decided to listen in while he paused the movie.
“Hi mom, what's up?” “Hey sweetie! I have some amazing news!” You rolled your eyes and looked at Kyle but he seemed interested. “What? What is it?” “Well…We found you a husband! He’s 54 and he owns a very nice business-” Kyle’s jaw dropped and you were speechless. “Not that you’re interested in my life unless it benefits you but I have a husband.” “WHAT? And you didn’t tell us?” Kyle choked on air when you said this and you encouraged him to speak up.
“Hello ma’am…I’m Kyle.” He spoke shyly and nervously and it seems like your mother wasn’t impressed. “Well hello Kyle and what do you do for work?” “Oh nothing special..Military.” Your mother gasped and hung up and Kyle just looked at the phone and then you.
“Marry me?” “What?” “I said, marry me. Your mom thinks we're married so let's get married.” You just shook your head yes as he stood up and put his shoes on. “Where are you-” “A ring, What’s your ring size sweetheart?” “Uhm..I’ll just come with you.” You put on some slippers and followed him outside to the car and went to go get a beautiful ring.
You got married officially around a year later and yes he formally met your family and they got accommodated to him and when he took over the business for your dad the family just put up with him for money.
Your sister being the worst constantly asked but Kyle always declined due to the fact you didn’t like her so he listened to you and didn’t ask questions. He didn’t have a death wish. He loves you.
Simon 'Ghost' Riley:
He knew about the money, matter of fact he knew your family but did he wanna spoil the fun? Course not.
So when you told him about the money he told you straight up he knew about the money, but since you didn’t mention your family he didn’t either.
But when you mentioned meeting your family he came clean, told you how he was your fathers security before joining the military. You gasped but you didn’t remember him for some odd reason.
But that’s maybe because he lied, he knew your father because he may or may not have been a hitman back in the day..But we’ll get into that later, maybe.
So when you took him to meet your parents he presented himself nice and your father seemed off, but you decided to keep quiet. But then your mother started speaking about marriage
“Ah, Sucks she’s already married to me.” “WHAT? IS THIS TRUE?” You nodded and showed your ring to her and he showed his wedding band like a trophy.
Was it maybe set up because you knew your parents would go nuts? Yeah but did you guys actually get married a year later? Yeah!
You and Ghost did eventually take over the company but you do most of the work due to his deployments but whenever he’s home he does as much as he can and he does whatever you ask of him.
Did it now come to light about him being your fathers hitman? No. He never told you and neither did your father.
Ghost didn’t wanna see his sweet angel worry about old problems that were already taken care of.
He loved how innocent you were, he didn’t wanna ruin it.
I loved this so much, your requests always EATTTTT🙈!!
#call of duty#cod#cod x reader#cod mw2#cod modern warfare#mw2#cod mwii#cod smut#captain price#john price x reader#kyle gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick#kyle garrick#soap cod#ghost cod#simon ghost riley#modern warfare 2#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#soap mactavish#john soap mactavish#soapghost#soap x reader#soap mw2#john mactavish#price#141#mw2 141
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