#they can have soft parts for bedroom purposes but that is IT
Text
best kept secret
pairing: dbf!Joel Miller x f!reader
words: 6.7k
summary: In an attempt to keep your relationship secret, Joel agrees to a blind date set up by his best friend / your father. You don't take it well.
warnings: 18+ minors dni, pre-outbreak, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel is 36), secret relationship, angst, explicit smut, oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, semi-public sex, car sex, creampie, some fluff; lmk if I missed anything!
a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared. but we're back, baby! anyway, dbf!joel owns my ass, so here's my rendition of him. as always, ty to my baby @javisashtray for reading this over for me and helping me through the creative process <3
Joel’s bedroom window offers a perfect view of the sunrise; of shy, pink light creeping over treetops and the roof of your dad’s house across the street.
It’s gorgeous — breathtaking, even — maybe because you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve actually seen the crest of morning. You’re far more privy to late nights and sleeping in as long as you can push it, never been one to be up with the lark, so to speak.
You don’t mind the early wakeup call, though, not when it’s this: Joel’s head tucked between your thighs, his tongue rolling lazily over your clit, your eyes still adjusting to the light as he spreads you open for him.
He’s humming against you, his coarse beard tickling soft skin, thumbs dug into muscle to hold you in place as your back bows reflexively off the mattress. He looks so sweet like this, so eager to please, staring up at you with blown pupils.
“C’mon baby,” he purrs. “Just gimme one before you go.”
They’re the first words he’s said all morning, the first thought that’s necessitated utterance. His voice is hoarse and deep and drips honey-sweet at your core.
Even so, despite how badly you want to — because you always want Joel’s mouth on you — you’re not sure you can.
Because you need to get home before Denise next door leaves for her early shift. Before Susan a few houses down takes her dog out for a walk.
Before the neighborhood wakes and somebody sees you leaving Joel Miller’s house. Or worse, before your dad catches you slipping into the house in yesterday’s clothes, your car in the driveway still cold.
But with another experimental flick of Joel’s tongue, you forget all that, a content little sigh slipping past your parted lips, betraying you.
Just one, you tell yourself, and then you’ll head out.
“Fuck, okay — yeah,” you breathe, twisting your fingers into the roots of his curls.
With your permission, he buries his nose in your mound. Licks at you again — with more purpose, this time. One long, drawn out lap followed by another.
He’s so gentle with you, so careful, caressing your folds with his tongue like they’re made of paper. It’s a dizzying juxtaposition to the way he laid you down last night and fucked you, teeth scraping your neck and cock bruising your cervix.
You’re still sore, your walls tender where he stretched them, but your pussy is drooling nonetheless, surely making a mess of the bedsheets underneath you.
Because you’re insatiable when it comes to Joel.
For the past few weeks, since the first time you’d found yourself in his bed, you’ve craved him. Regardless of how sated he’s left you each and every time, you’ve needed more.
It’s dangerous and stupid and undeniably wrong, having a fling with your dad’s best-friend. But you’re finding it difficult to consider the morality of it all when just his tongue makes you come harder than any other man’s cock ever has.
That tongue, now dipping into your apex, drawing more slick out of you as his thumb finds your swollen clit — It’s overwhelming how good it feels, how good he is at this.
He’s bringing you to the edge languidly, savoring the taste of you, the feel of your silky flesh. It’s like he doesn’t want this to be over, needs to stretch the moment as far as it’ll go, milk every last second before you slip from his grasp.
But it’s going to end soon; it’s inevitable with the way he’s laving your pussy, the crushed velvet of his tongue gliding through your folds so wet and warm. Your orgasm is building, and you’re powerless to stave it off any longer.
“Joel,” you warn, his name a high-pitched whine.
“Shh, I know babygirl; it’s okay.”
Two of his fingers hook at your entrance and push in, pacifying you as his thumb continues working your clit. “I got you. Let go for me, sweetheart.”
The soothe of his voice floods your senses like nitrous; renders your body loose and your head foggy. You come apart with a string of shattered breaths, eyes rolled back and fingers twisted into the duvet.
Joel talks you through it: that’s it, pretty girl; so good for me; always so good for me, and though he sounds so far away, his words are the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.
The world comes back into view slowly. Air settles in your lungs. And you can’t help but laugh at how fucked-out you feel when you peer down at Joel, his gaze already locked on you, expectantly.
“Okay?” he asks, rubbing at your inner thigh.
“Yeah,” you exhale, corners of your lips pulling taut. “More than okay.”
He smiles back at you. Props himself up with hands planted either side of you on the mattress and hovers over your feeble form.
“Good,” he whispers, dipping his head down to kiss your forehead, your nose, your mouth. He licks into you, letting you taste yourself on him — a little sweet, a little bitter — and his lips are so soft that you nearly melt. “Did so good, angel.”
You want nothing more than to spend all day in this bed with him. Return the favor a few times over. Learn what he looks like in the afternoon sun against the backdrop of navy blue sheets. What he tastes like after his coffee rather than before.
“I don’t want to leave,” you admit against his mouth and he frowns, taking one of your hands in his. He presses a kiss to each of your knuckles, one by one, his eyes never straying from yours.
“I don’t want you to either, darlin’. But you can come back tonight, yeah?”
Tonight. Hours away. A whole day between now and then. But it’ll have to do.
“Tonight,” you repeat. Solidify it.
You slink home just as the street lights dim.
The house is quiet when you enter, apart from the incessant ticking of the grandmother clock in the living room. It sets off a throbbing in your head, a dull pang right at the front of your skull that you massage with two fingers as you ascend the stairs.
You move cautiously up each step, wincing at every creak of old wood. It must take minutes to reach the second-floor landing, and then you’re tiptoeing past your father’s room, listening for signs of sleep behind the seal of his door. Sure enough, you catch it, a single, drawn-out snore, loud enough that you let your feet fall, shuffling the rest of the way to the bathroom across the hall.
You immediately crank the shower on, climbing in as soon as you see steam. Lathering your skin with citrus-scented body wash, the smell of sex washes off your body and down the drain.
The warm water soothes your sore muscles; bittersweet relief. You stand there until the stream grows icy, stepping out and toweling yourself off just as you hear the familiar blare of your dad’s alarm on the other side of the wall.
By the time you’ve dressed and made your way downstairs, he’s already in the kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee with his back to you.
Sink empty, counters borderline sparkling, a coaster tucked under his warm mug — your father is a neat man. He does not take kindly to mess.
God forbid, anybody disrupt the sacred balance of his home; move something and forget to put it back, break something of his that should be kept intact.
“Hey.”
“Hey, kiddo,” he yawns. Turns to face you. “You were up early. Heard the shower going.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” you lie.
“Something on your mind?”
Heat blooms across your chest and up your neck. There’s no way he knows — you’ve been far too careful. Still, you’re on edge, and the question lodges itself between your ribs uncomfortably as you frantically search for an answer.
“Uh, n-no,” you stutter. “Just work stuff, I guess.”
He seems to buy it, reaching for the percolator and re-filling his mug with a sigh, “Just gotta give it time. You only just started. Plus, it’s your first job out of school. They don’t expect you to know it all right away.”
It’s good advice, if not misguided. You nod as if you’re absorbing it, taking it straight to heart. As if your mind isn’t preoccupied.
You grab a mug from the cabinet. Fill it with coffee and creamer. Perch yourself at the breakfast table and take a slow, steadying sip.
The caffeine has just about seeped into your bloodstream when-
-there’s a knock at the door.
Your dad shoots you a puzzled look, one which you immediately return. Who could that be, so early on a Wednesday morning?
And when he pushes open the door to reveal none other than Joel, you just about fall out of your chair. Your nails absentmindedly dig into the wood of the table in an attempt to brace yourself.
“Oh, buddy — hey! Come on in,” your dad says, patting him on the back as he steps over the threshold. “Wasn’t expecting you.”
You grasp the handle of your mug like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, you worry the ceramic will shatter in your hands.
Joel is dressed — blue cotton t-shirt covering his broad back and the deep, red scratches you left there when you dug your nails into skin, your legs hiked over his hips and your face tucked into his chest.
The pair of boxers peeking over the waistband of his jeans are different from the ones you pulled off of him last night, the ones he shimmied back into before you slept cradled in his arms.
He’s a different Joel here, now — your father’s friend, your neighbor — not the man who breaks you down with his tongue or the one who calls you his good girl while you take his entire, throbbing length.
No, this Joel, standing in your kitchen in the presence of your father, has never betrayed him. Hasn’t tasted his friend’s daughter or felt the tight embrace of her wet, warm cunt around his cock. This Joel is reliable, honest, not one to do harm.
You do not desire this Joel, cannot. You must look at him with apathetic eyes. Must keep the boat of your longing at bay.
Easier said than done. It’s as if your desire for him is a feral beast, fed by his touch and left starving in its wake. You feel like you’ve just run a marathon, sweat beading at your collar as you not-so-subtly follow the subconscious flex of his hands, the bunching of fabric over his biceps.
His voice bounces off the backsplash, and your fingers tighten around the handle of your mug.
“Yeah, I uh — I went to make myself coffee and realized I was out. Was hopin’ you might have some to spare?”
He can’t be serious. He came over for coffee? He couldn’t get some on the road?
“I’m afraid she took the last of it,” your dad’s eyes point to you, and you ignore the burn of Joel’s gaze when his follow.
“Ahh,” he says. “‘ts okay. I’ll grab some on my way in.”
His fingers taptaptap on the edge of the countertop, bottom lip tucked between his teeth like there’s something else. Another reason he came here.
And then you spot it — your wallet, dark red leather, poking out the top of Joel’s back pocket.
You must’ve left it in his room before you hurried home. Somewhere amongst the mess of trinkets and trash on his dresser. You half-remember dropping it there last night as he’d kneeled in front of you and peppered kisses up the length of your leg.
Thankfully, your dad is oblivious as ever, giving Joel the perfect opportunity to inconspicuously slip you your wallet when he turns around and crosses the kitchen, placing his empty mug in the sink.
Joel sidesteps once, twice, extending his arm and snapping it back as soon as you have the wallet in your grasp.
Your father clears his throat. Spins to find Joel exactly where he was. “I’ve been thinking,” he starts, wrestling a slice of bread out of the bag and dropping it into the toaster, “I gotta set you up with this co-worker of mine, Deb.”
Joel freezes. You watch as the color drains from his face and his large hand anxiously cards through dark curls. You’re pretty sure you freeze too, breath caught somewhere in your throat until your dad turns to you and you remember to exhale.
“You know Deb, right, honey?” he asks. You mentally flick through the rolodex of your dad’s coworkers.
There’s Leanne, tall redhead, hosted a potluck a few months back at which you tasted the worst mac & cheese you’ve ever had. And Barbara from accounting, who he got into a heated argument with over who makes the best BBQ in the city. You only remember her name because he hadn’t shut up about how wrong her opinion was for a full week.
This woman actually thinks the Smoke Shop has got better ribs than Lou’s. I said to her, Barbara, your taste buds must be absolutely torched.
But Deb? You don’t recall a Deb. Still, you’re pretty sure you hate her, just in hearing her name in this context.
You shake your head, no.
“Well, I guess you haven’t seen her in a while. She was there that day I brought you into the office.”
“When I was ten?” you retort.
“Yeah, I guess it was that long ago, huh?”
You shrug. He returns his attention to Joel. “Anyway, Deb – she’s around your age, just got divorced about a year back, and she’s a real nice woman. I think you two would really hit it off.”
“Is that so?” Joel replies. You swear his voice wavers. If your dad notices, he doesn’t say anything.
“You’ll like her Joel, I promise. I mean, when’s the last time you went out with a nice lady? Not since – what was her name — Jean? And if things were going well with her, I’d hope you’d tell your old friend.” The toaster pops, and he retrieves his slice of toast. Grabs a butter knife from the utensil drawer.
“No, I ain’t seeing Jean,” Joel sighs. Flashes you an apologetic glance as your dad slathers his toast in artificial purple jam, blissfully unaware.
“Well, you gotta get back out there!”
Joel’s gaze rolls to the ceiling. “I don’t know – I’m just not real interested in datin’ right now.”
You exhale, then — a quiet declaration of relief that seems to go unnoticed — unperturbed even when your dad continues his pitch.
I’ve known this woman for years Joel, I’m telling you, the two of you’d be the perfect match; she’s a looker too, real pretty.
Ew. Tuning him out, you check the clock, find that you only have a few minutes before you need to get going. You stand from the table and make your way toward the sink with your now-empty coffee mug in hand.
Would I ever lead you astray? your dad is asking just as you brush past Joel. His hand, idle by his side, catches the fabric of your blouse and you have to fight to ignore the pinprick of electricity it ignites under your skin.
“No, I know,” Joel grumbles. “I trust your judgment ‘n all, ‘ts just-”
“Will you just give her a chance?”
“Jesus; fine.”
The mug slips from your grip, falls into the sink with a clang.
Your dad glares at you, expression softening only when you gesture to the still-intact ceramic lying on its side in the basin.
He’s quickly distracted, then, jotting a series of numbers down onto a scrap of notebook paper, the blue ink pressed in so hard that it’s beginning to bleed through.
“Atta boy,” he drawls, sliding it across the counter. Joel pinches it between two fingers, folds the paper without looking at it and stuffs it into his front pocket.
“Promise you’ll give her a call tonight? I may or may not have already talked you up, and I need to know you’re not gonna make me look bad here.”
Joel has to see you staring at him out of the corner of his eye. He must. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under already. But he’s refusing to meet your gaze, eyes glued to the cabinet directly in front of him as he nods. “Yeah, I’ll call her tonight,” he says, a small, unconvincing smile pulling at the corner of his lips.
He’s actually agreeing to this?
You need to get out of here before you say something rash.
The anger bubbles in you slowly, then all at once, threatening to boil over as you slip on your shoes and sling your bag over your shoulder.
Marching toward the door, you offer a half-hearted bye, not bothering to look back before you leave.
The office is already milling with people by the time you stroll in, ten minutes late.
The conversation between Joel and your dad is still running laps in your head as you sneak past your boss’s door.
It sticks there through the morning and well into the afternoon, your dad’s words an incessant earworm: I think you two would really hit it off.
The thing is — you can’t blame Joel for saying yes to the setup. Not really. Your situation is complicated, messy, bound to end badly.
Maybe he’d be happier with Deb.
They could take walks together, stroll through the grocery store or down the street hand-in-hand. Throw dinner parties and shamelessly gush about their relationship to their friends. All without fear of being caught doing something wrong.
Because that’s what this is, you and Joel — it’s wrong. Not like you weren’t already well aware of that. Leave it to some woman you’ve never met to rub it in.
The day passes infuriatingly slow.
The pile of emails in your inbox only grows larger by the time you’re due to clock out, stack of reports on your desk barely touched. You wince when your boss stops by your cubicle on her way out, eager for an update.
“Sorry, Linda; a couple of these were more time-consuming than I’d hoped,” you lie. But you can tell she doesn’t buy it, not one bit, her expression souring as you shuffle through papers.
“I need these done by the end of the week, no matter what.”
“Of course,” you mutter, face heating with embarrassment. “I’ll get them done and on your desk by Friday.”
“Thanks.” Her heels are already clacking on tile when you open your mouth to apologize again, your sorry lost to the ether.
You gather your things and scramble to your feet as soon as she’s out of view, not sticking around to watch your computer power down. By the time you get to your car, Joel’s number is already dialed on your phone.
He picks up after two rings.
“Darlin’ — are you okay?”
It’s admittedly uncharacteristic for you to call him so early. You usually wait until after dark, when you’ve both retreated to your respective bedrooms, away from listening ears.
But this can’t wait. It’s been eating at you all day, digging into your work. If you don’t talk to him about it, you’re going to end up unemployed. You don’t bother to ask if he’s still on the job site, around other people. “You’re going on this date.” It’s not a question. More of an accusation.
“Baby,” he sighs. You try your best to ignore his molasses drawl and the way it seeps into your chest.
“Why didn’t you say no?”
“How could I?” he groans. “There’s your dad, askin’ me if I’m seein’ someone, sayin’ he’s already told this lady about me – what am I supposed to say?”
“I don’t know.” Your voice comes out a whine. “Make something up. Tell him you’ve taken a vow of celibacy.”
He laughs, low and breathy on the other end. “Yeah, baby. Think he’d believe that one, f’sure.”
“Fuck,” you huff. “I just— I don’t-“
You want to tell him not to go. To cancel. Fake his own death. Do whatever it takes to get out of this. But you have no right, not really. The two of you aren’t dating. You don’t have any control over what he does or who he sees. And you don’t want that, no. You just want him to choose you.
“I don’t wanna go, darlin’. I really don’t. But if I do this, I think it’ll get him off my back for a while. He won’t have a reason to suspect that I’m foolin’ around with his daughter.”
Fooling around. His phrasing is a metaphorical punch in the gut.
It’s not exactly a lie. You haven’t put a label on this thing, whatever it is. It’s been purely physical: lips slotted to lips, tongues pressed together, swapped sweat and saliva. But hearing it reduced to two words, words with such a casual connotation — as if you haven’t been driven by overwhelming desire — makes your stomach churn.
Joel doesn’t seem to clock it when you go quiet, a cocktail of rage and sorrow sloshing around your insides. “It’s for the best,” he adds, a shot of hard, burning liquor.
“Yeah,” you say defeatedly. Choke back the pathetic tears that creep up your throat. “For the best.”
He ends the call with the excuse of bad cell reception. Promises to talk to you later. You’re not sure that you believe him.
The phrase fooling around curls up in your head, a wet dog, its fur dripping into the crevices of your rattled brain the entire drive home.
You dodge Joel’s calls for the remainder of the week.
There’s no use in talking to him when you have nothing to say, when you know any words you attempt will be overtaken by tears.
Even so, it doesn’t stop him from trying. His number lights up the screen of your phone at least twice a day.
He leaves voicemails that you do not listen to. You can’t. The last thing you need is his syruppy drawl in your ear. You’ll break; you know you will.
So instead, you delete them. Rid yourself of temptation.
But you still ache for him — a devastating truth. You lumber through the days, bones heavy with hurt. Find yourself kept up at night by thoughts of Joel and the infuriatingly soothing timbre of his voice, the intoxicating callous of his fingertips against your soft skin.
It’s a lonely thing, yearning for Joel Miller.
On Friday, your father beams at the dinner table. He’s grinning like a child as he stuffs a forkful of rice into his mouth.
“Joel and Deb’s date is tomorrow,” he says. “Think they’ll really hit it off, don’t you?”
You’re dumbfounded for a long moment — can’t believe that this is your life now: being asked about your thoughts on Joel and the ever-elusive Deb as a couple. When it takes too long for you to answer, your father’s fork stills pointedly on his plate, and you sputter.
“Oh! I mean, I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t remember Deb.” You can’t help your condescending tone. Your dad doesn’t seem to catch it anyway.
“Well,” he says, “I think they’ll be a match. Hoping so, anyway. The man has been such a hermit lately — maybe if he has a lady, he’ll get out more!”
“You sound real excited,” you grumble. Stab four peas on the prongs of your fork.
“It is exciting. I’ve never set anyone up before. And the best part is, the place they’re going to — the Tavern — it’s got rooms you can rent out for wedding receptions. Just imagine if down the line, they got mar-“
“Dad,” you stop him. You think you’ll be physically sick if you let him finish that sentence. “Sorry, I just — I’m really tired, all of a sudden. I think I’m going to head to bed early.”
It’s not a complete lie. You’re emotionally exhausted as a result of the past couple days. Sleep sounds like a much-needed, blissful escape right now.
Your dad doesn’t question you. He just nods. Swipes your plate from in front of you and brings it to the sink along with his.
Of course, you find it impossible to actually drift off that night. Tossing and turning, you battle the glaring urge to get up, slink into the home-office and look up directions to the Tavern.
Not that you’re planning to go there anytime soon — you’re just curious. That’s all.
Around midnight, you give up, pad down the hallway and into the room parallel yours. The computer dials up slowly, and you chew your bottom lip as you wait.
You snatch a piece of paper from the printer and a pen from the #1 Dad mug that sits next to the monitor. Click on the internet icon and type the words into the search bar.
This is definitely a bad idea. Maybe the worst you’ve had in a while.
You jot the address down anyway.
Downtown Austin is buzzing with life.
Patrons spilling out of bars, tourists striding down the street in their brand new Stetsons – it almost distracts you from the task at hand.
At just past seven, you’d told your dad you were going out, meeting a friend for drinks. He’d been a bit taken aback, seeing as you’re not very social these days, but he’d seemed happy. Relieved.
That’s not what you’re doing, of course.
No – in reality, you’re turning into the parking lot attached to the Tavern. It’s packed to the brim with cars, but you still manage to find Joel’s truck, its license plate number burned into the back of your mind after countless mornings of absently reading it as you snuck past.
It’s idle and empty when you inch by, and even though you knew he’d be here, on this date, your heart still sinks. Because maybe a tiny part of you had hoped he’d stand Deb up.
You should leave. It was stupid to come here in the first place. What are you going to do — storm inside and demand that he leave with you?
You consider it for half a second, groaning when you realize how pitiful you are. Defeated, you swing your car into a spot at the back, facing the building, and shift it into park. You hug the steering wheel dejectedly.
From here, you have a straight-shot view of the restaurant’s entrance, a set of double doors at the side of the building. Groups spill out every so often, every pair that emerges causing your back to arch reflexively.
Joel and Deb are probably discussing their interests right now, bonding over a shared connection with your dad. You can vividly picture the smile likely plastered across his face — the same one you’ve elicited with sweet filth whispered in his ear.
And you’re here, sitting in your running car, watching the door. Your pulse thumps obnoxiously loud in your ears.
Minutes pass like molasses, slow and thick. You watch the clock on the car radio obsessively, betting with yourself on what time they’ll leave. After thirty minutes of nothing, you’re convinced that they’re going to close the place out.
But then the door opens again, and you straighten up, immediately met with the sight of Joel and Deb.
She’s talking animatedly, eyes widening every few words, blonde hair wafting around her narrow face. It’s undeniable that she’s stunning, even from far away; possesses the kind of beauty you see on magazine covers in line at the grocery store. The jealousy that pools in your gut burns like acetone in an open wound.
She takes his arm as they walk toward the parking lot, and he lets her, despite the rest of his body appearing strangely rigid.
You wonder if he’ll take her home. Lead her to his truck, help her up the step to the passenger seat and sneak a look at her ass under her dress before shutting the door. If they’ll leave her car in the lot for the night, come back to retrieve it in the morning once he’s helped her forget about her loser ex-husband; let the scent of her perfume seep into the bed sheets to cover up yours.
But he doesn’t lead her to his truck. You watch as they unexpectedly turn down a row of cars, disappearing from your view completely, his arm still locked with hers.
He could still kiss her. Press her against the car. Promise her that he’ll call — and he will, first thing tomorrow. He’s probably just being a real gentleman. Treating her like a woman he might want to marry someday.
Maybe he knows, after just one date, that she’s his soulmate. He’ll buy the ring in a couple weeks. They’ll be engaged in a month’s time, and he’ll say he just couldn’t wait any longer.
She’s the one thing I’ve been missing.
You stew in the agonizing unknown for what feels like hours before Joel materializes once again, backside illuminated by headlights as he strides toward his truck.
And then — he stops. You see the exact moment he notices your car in the parking lot, his eyebrows threading together and his hands splaying over his hips.
He’s staring directly through the windshield. At you.
Fuck.
He takes a few slow steps. Stops in front of the hood. Narrows his eyes and flexes his jaw.
With a deep breath, you unlock the doors. Gesture for him to get in the passenger side.
He immediately rounds the car, prying the door open and climbing inside just as a SUV pulls out the row he and Deb had walked down.
The door slams when he yanks it closed. The sound echoes through the cab of the car.
“You wanna fuckin’ explain what you’re doin’ here?” he snaps. You’re afraid to look him in the eye, embarrassment and now, anger, spooling hot behind your ears.
You know you’re in the wrong. You shouldn’t have followed him. But does he have to be so hostile?
When your gaze finally meets his, he looks — distraught — jaw clenched and lips set in a straight line. His fingers absently dig into denim-covered thighs.
“I don’t know,” you mumble, “I just wanted to see how you were with her.” And it’s the truth; not one you want to be admitting right now, to him, but it’s the truth nonetheless.
“Doesn’t give you the right to spy on me.”
“So what was I supposed to do? Sit at home and mope while the guy I was seeing is on a date with someone else? Oh no, I’m sorry,” you throw your hands up, form air quotes with your fingers, “the guy I was fooling around with.”
This seems to strike a nerve. His jaw twitches, and his fingers still on his lap.
“It wasn’t like that,” he grits
“No? Isn’t that all this was to you: fooling around?”
There’s a beat. Joel sighs.
“No — fuck, no. Of course not.”
His expression softens. A crack in solid stone. “I tried callin’ you,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.
“I know,” you admit.
He nods. Another beat.
“Did you kiss her?” you ask.
“No.” He says it with intent, with promise, eyes firmly locked on yours now.
Your mouth goes dry.
“No?”
“No,” he repeats. “I didn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t want to.”
“You don’t want her?”
“No,” he says flatly, his pupils bulging in the lamplight, black bleeding into the brown of his irises. “I don’t want her.”
“Why not?”
He leans forward. His weight presses into the center console and his breath fans your face — warm, tinged with the scent of cheap beer.
“I don’t want her,” he says, voice an octave lower, “because I want you. I thought you knew that?”
The radio drones between the two of you, some classic rock song you think you recognize flitting through the speaker. Your pulse beats staccato in your throat, off tempo.
“You want me?” you ask, a little breathless, and the next words you say are beyond dumb, beyond reckless, but you say them anyway. “Prove it.”
Joel doesn’t hesitate. He closes the slight distance between you and kisses you, hard, his tongue frantically sliding against yours through parted lips.
It’s sloppy, and desperate, and you feel drunk on the taste of him, on longing laced with carnal need. He’s groaning into your mouth, grabbing your head with both hands, burying his fingers in your hair — as if he can’t get close enough, as if he’ll only be satisfied once he’s swallowed you whole. You’re pretty sure you want him to.
Your hands move frantically to his t-shirt, then, bunch into the fabric and pull. You need to feel the skin underneath, need to rove your hands along his bare chest. He accommodates, tugging the shirt by the back of the collar, lips separating from yours ever-so-briefly to bring it over his head and toss it onto the backseat.
And then he’s back on you, licking into your mouth again, eliciting a whimper from you when his hand wraps around the side of your throat, just under your jaw.
Your palms splay across his torso, wander over warm, golden skin. You’ve missed this, god, you’ve missed this — but it’s still not enough. You need to feel more of him. In your mouth, in your hand, in your cunt — you’re not picky. Just need him in whatever way he’ll provide.
“Joel,” you whimper into his mouth, fingers winding around his bicep.
He pulls back. Peers at you through hooded eyes. “What is it, baby?” he asks through labored breaths.
“Need you — please.”
He immediately unbuckles your seatbelt. Lowers his seat back and manhandles you onto his lap. You go easily; slot yourself to him with legs folded on either side of his thighs.
Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, you grind down into his lap. His cock strains against denim underneath you. He groans when you swivel your hips and brush the heft of it again with your clothed heat.
“You gonna let me fuck you?” he asks into your mouth, his forehead pressed to yours.
Your breath catches.
You know what he’s really asking: are you going to let him fuck you here, in the parking lot of a public establishment, where anybody could see?
But you don’t care. In fact, you’re way past caring, the emptiness of your cunt too painful to ignore any longer. Let them watch him take what’s his.
You nod frantically. “Yes,” you pant. “Please.”
Joel nods too, as if he’s accepting his fate. He’s going to fuck his friend’s daughter in the passenger seat of her car. There’s no way around it — not when you’re begging for it. He’s going to give you what you need.
“Okay,” he soothes, “I got you baby.”
He helps you out of your pants, then; clumsily maneuvers them down and off your legs along with your panties and tosses them aimlessly into the back.
He doesn’t bother to take his jeans off. Lets you unzip them and pop the button open, your nimble fingers making quick work of it. And then you’re pulling his cock out of his boxers, stiff and leaking in your grasp.
You steady yourself with hands on his shoulders just as he begins to pepper placating kisses along your neck. “Go ahead baby,” he whispers into your ear. “Take it; it’s yours.”
His head falls back against the seat as you stroke him a few times and line his cock up with your dripping entrance, his hands clasped around your waist.
You sink down slowly, savoring every inch of him as he burrows in deeper. He’s so thick, stretching you like it’s the first time again, your walls fluttering as they relax around his cock.
“Fuck,” Joel slurs, fingers digging into your skin impatiently when you still, fully seated on him.
“Gotta move baby — please move.”
He’s so fucking deep, though, his cockhead bumping your cervix, and your entire body feels gelatinous atop him. A cloying sort of heat hangs around your head. You swivel your hips weakly, your forehead falling to rest on his with a heavy sigh.
Joel is happy to take control, bucking up into you so hard you see stars. You can’t suppress the string of moans that spill from your mouth, and Joel doesn’t seem to mind. He’s just as loud, anyway, his broken sounds bleeding into yours, bouncing off glass and leather.
Neither of you can muster an actual word, though, not with him rutting up into you, sheathing himself in your pussy over and over again. He’s relentlessly hitting that spot — the one that has you practically clinging to him for dear life.
It’s approaching too quickly; he’s going to make you come.
One of your hands flies to the roof of the car in an attempt to brace yourself, flat palm pressing into it so hard you worry it’ll pop.
Joel takes the opportunity to drag you down in his lap, spearing you on his cock, and the sudden change in angle makes you cry out.
“Oh f— ahh, oh my—“
“That’s it,” he coos, “you got it, babygirl.”
His words tip you over the edge, your entire body locking up as you gush around him. You’re wetting his lap, slick splattering his thighs, and he loves it, his fervid moan telling you so.
His movements begin to falter then, hips stuttering underneath you as he chases his own high.
“Cmon, baby,” you goad, “please fill me up.”
He grunts when he spills inside, his face nestling in your chest, heaving as he works through it and begins to come down. You don’t move, not that Joel would let you, still holding you on his lap like he’s afraid to let you go.
You nuzzle into his embrace as his cock softens inside you.
You stay like that for a while, probably too long given that anybody could easily look into the car and see you straddling him. You don’t have the energy to care.
Eventually, you lift your head from its spot on Joel’s chest. Look up at him with bleary eyes.
“Joel,” you say.
He meets your gaze, face shiny with sweat and his hair a mess. He looks gorgeous like this, you think. The way only you get to see him.
“Yeah?” He grazes along your arm with featherlight fingers. His touch raises goosebumps on your skin.
“Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?”
“About wanting me.” In truth, you’re not sure you want the answer. But you need to know, definitively, if Joel is yours. You’re done sharing him.
“Oh, baby,” he drawls. “Of course I do. You’re all I want. Do you want me?”
And it’s a stupid question. He has to know that. You’re nodding before he can even finish it. “Yes,” you breathe. “I want you, Joel”
“Then it’s settled. It’s me and you. No more…interlopers.”
You giggle. Reluctantly separate yourself from his body and re-dress. You settle back into the driver’s seat with achy legs.
You’ve never felt more content than you do in this moment.
Still, you’ll have to hide — won’t be able to share the news of your new relationship with friends or coworkers, your dad — and neither will Joel.
You don’t care much, not as long as he’s yours, but you need to be sure he feels the same.
“Joel,” you stop him as he opens the passenger-side door to get out. He stills with one leg swung out the door.
“Yeah, darlin’?”
“Are you sure you don’t mind…being a secret? Don’t mind keeping me a secret?”
He looks at you like you have two heads.
He pulls his leg back into the car. Shuts the door and leans over the console again.
Taking your chin between his fingers, he forces your gaze. Makes sure you’re listening.
“I want you — doesn’t matter who knows or doesn’t know. Long as you’re mine.”
Your chest tightens, and your heart squeezes inside your ribcage.
“I’m yours?”
He smiles. Presses a chaste kiss between your eyes, on the tip of your nose, on your lips. The same way he did the other morning.
It all feels somehow sweeter, now.
“Yeah, angel. You’re mine. My girl.”
end notes: tysm for reading! please consider commenting and/or reblogging if you enjoyed! I've been toying with the idea of turning this into a series so lmk if that's something you'd be interested in hehe.
Also, I hopped on the bandwagon and made a sideblog for notifs! I'll be doing away with a taglist from here on out, so follow @joelscurlsupdates & turn on notifications if you wanna be notified when I post a new fic :-)
tag list: @janaispunk @amanitacowboy @fhatbhabie @frannyzooey @lola8888673
#joel x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#dbf!joel#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fanfiction#tlou fic#the last of us fanfiction
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caught your fever I'll be feeling it forever ❅ (a.s)
PART TWO
❅ pairing: Anakin Skywalker x fem!reader
❅ summary: You and Anakin have always been the best of friends; who just happen to be in love and are refusing to do anything about it. OR You go on a ski trip with several of your friends and have to share a bed with your best friend, whom you’ve been harbouring feelings for years.
❅ genre: fluff + smut (18+ mdni) modern!au
❅ word count: 12,1k (uhm. sorry.)
❅ warnings/tags: friends to lovers, childhood friends to lovers kinda, one bed trope + forced proximity trope, idiots in love, mutual pining, assumed unrequited love, reader is described as shorter than anakin, inexperienced/virgin!reader, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, piv sex, soft!dom anakin, ok… just kinda a softer anakin, sub!reader, vaginal fingering, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, overstimulation, size kink, praise kink, lots of pet names. this is not beta read sorry!
❅ a/n: GUESS WHAT!!! user healmydesires is back with another self indulgent fic about their blorbo! this one is so hot and dear to me likeeee always wanted to write these tropes. so here you go <3 also ngl.. majority is just smut 😭
AO3 • masterlist
❅⋆* ☾ ⋆* ❅･ﾟ:⋆* ❅･ﾟ
As you open the door to your bedroom, you drop your bag and flick on the light. The space is cosy with pine furniture and a fireplace to light when the room gets cold. The balcony allows for a picture perfect view of the distant forest and snowy landscape. The room is beautiful in its simplicity. Overall, cute and warm.
You hear Anakin swearing quietly behind you as you take in the room.
There’s one thing though.
There’s only one bed.
And it is quite tiny, looks smaller than a double, slightly bigger than a single bed, and various pillows stacked on top of each other.
A few months ago your mutual friends begged you to come along to this ski trip to the Alps. Honestly, you didn’t want to come to this trip in the first place but when Padmé, one of your closest friends told you that Anakin would come along you just couldn’t resist.
You feel your stomach coiling into knots and your body heats up as you realise you’ll have to share this bed this whole trip with your best friend. The man you’ve been hopelessly in love with for as long as you can remember.
All the stupid fluttery feelings in your stomach every time his eyes catch yours, or the way your heart beats fast whenever you are in close proximity to him. But, of course, you try to bury those feelings down deep, reminding yourself that Anakin could never feel the same way about you as you feel about him.
So far, you’ve lived twenty-four years, and throughout a huge majority of it Anakin Skywalker has been your anchor, your only constant. Being his best friend is easy, just as natural as breathing. Falling in love with him was bound to happen anyway. It’s inevitable.
“Fucking, Snips.” He grumbles under his breath.
Ahsoka had promised you that the both of you would be sharing a room together but at the last minute, she picked a bedroom for herself. The only other bedroom left. She’d give you a silent apology with the most innocent smile you had ever seen as she ran up to her room.
Every single one of your friends have already been paired up or have their own rooms and you have a feeling that they did this on purpose.
Slowly, you spin around, looking at Anakin who looks extremely flushed. He looks adorable even if he looks a little overwhelmed right now. If it weren’t for the fact that you feel just as overwhelmed as him, you would probably tease him for his pink cheeks.
“Uhm—”
“Look, I can always just take the couch downstairs.” Anakin interrupts as he grimaces, scrubbing a hand over his face before he turns around to head out the room.
You swallow nervously, steadying your breathing the best way you can before you speak.
“Ani, wait.” You call out, cringing internally at how desperate you sound. “The bed is clearly big enough for the both of us.”
He sighs as he turns around, facing you.
“Besides, the couch is much smaller than the bed,” you huff out a nervous laugh as you try to avoid his eye contact. You pick up your bag and then toss it on the bed. “And it’s not like we’ve never shared a bed before.” You smile shyly up at him as you push some hair back behind your ear.
“Right.” Anakin smiles back, just as nervous as you. “Are you sure?” He tries, the idea of sharing a bed with you overwhelming him. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“Ani,” you look up at him, as you frown. You’re sure you’re pouting but you don’t care. It feels as if sharing a bed with you terrifies Anakin. “Do you mind sleeping in the same bed? Am I that awful to share a bed with—”
“No!” He cuts you off with wide eyes, a bit too quickly. He clears his throat awkwardly, “I mean, no, of course not. I just, I truly don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
Your heart warms up at his words. “I won’t, I promise.” You reassure him with a small but genuine smile. “As long as you’re fine with it too?”
Anakin reciprocates your smile and nods, “of course, sweetheart.”
⋆｡ﾟ❆ ☁︎ ﹡｡⋆｡❅ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ﹡❅ ༶
You can’t stop shivering.
Even hours after you’ve come back from skiing, you’re trembling. The cold not leaving your body, as you can’t seem to warm up. The warm water of the shower from earlier didn’t help either. Your hands are freezing cold, your fingers feeling like ice cubes.
You don’t like skiing, it’s one of the reasons why you were so reluctant to come along on this trip. Not because you hate the sport, but you’re just awful at it.
You’ve been trying all day to ski the right way, only for you to fall on your face in the snow every single time you thought you were getting the hang of it.
You’re certain that multiple of your friends' camera rolls, especially Ahsoka’s and even Ben’s, are now full of pictures and videos of you going down the baby slopes with all the little kids laughing at you as you kept falling down.
The worst of it all is that this wasn’t your first time skiing. You used to go skiing a lot as a kid but it’s been at least fifteen years ago that you put skis on, let alone went skiing. Even with the help of Anakin, you would continue to make a fool out of yourself. After countless times of him catching you, you finally gave up.
You truly wished you stayed at the chalet with hot chocolate and a good book.
Especially after hours of being back in the chalet, you still can’t seem to get warm. Not only are you extremely cold, your body is sore as well.
After you’ve had dinner with the whole group, you go straight to take another shower. You couldn’t wait to engulf your body in warmth again.
As you emerge from the adjacent bathroom in your pyjamas with a hoodie on top of it, after taking your second shower of the evening, you can’t help but stop and stare at the sight before you. Anakin is sitting shirtless against the headboard with some pillows propped against it to make him feel more comfortable, while he’s holding one of his sketchbooks. He’s covered in blankets and you can’t help but find him adorable as you admire him.
The change of temperature in the room is the next thing you notice, before you hear some crackling of fire. Anakin must have started the fire, to bring some warmth to the room. The fireplace illuminates the room in a beautiful warm glow, and you have to pull your eyes away as the orange lightning makes Anakin look even prettier.
Unfortunately, after your shower you still feel extremely cold. The shivering doesn’t stop.
“I lit the fireplace.” He says with a smile as he looks up from his sketches.
Despite how cold you feel, a sense of warmth spreads through your chest by his words. “Thank you, Ani. That’s very sweet.” You whisper before making your way to your side of the bed, instantly getting under the covers and blankets.
Once you are settled underneath your covers he turns his attention back to his sketchbook, resuming his drawings or doodles.
As he concentrates on his drawings, your gaze flicks over to him every one in a while, his face lit up by the orange glow of the fireplace. He’s always been pretty, that’s a fact, but you can see it now more than ever. You can’t help but admire how beautiful he looks, it nearly takes your breath away.
It’s hard to look away.
Minutes have passed and you’re still freezing, teeth chattering and body trembling as chills run up and down your arms and legs. You desperately rub your hands over your arms as you try to warm up but eventually you settle your hands underneath your arms.
The rustling of the sheets has probably caught his attention because soon Anakin calls out your name.
“Did the shower not help this time around?”
You look up as you catch him staring at you. Despite the fact that you continue to shiver underneath the covers you feel yourself get flustered as he looks at you intensely. His blue eyes shine so beautifully in the sunset glow of the room. You almost forget the question that left his lips as you quickly snap out of your daze.
You don’t trust yourself to speak. So instead, you close your eyes for a second and just simply shake your head as another huge shiver runs down your spine.
Anakin seems to contemplate with himself as he lies still after you answered. He sighs after the beat of silence, then puts his book and pencil aside.
“Come here,” he says softly as he beckons you to come to him.
A flash of heat washes over your face as you look at him. As you continue to look at him with wide eyes he rolls his eyes playfully at you. “Come on sweetheart,”
You’re used to cuddling your best friend sometimes but never in this position, and certainly not in the same bed. But you can’t help but feel your whole body crave for his touch.
You nibble on your bottom lip before you finally decide to move closer to him.
As you come closer he slowly wraps his arms around you, giving you time to pull away in case he is overstepping boundaries. Seeing that you don’t pull away, he fully wraps his arms around you; engulfing you in his embrace.
Once you settle in his touch, you’re immersed in warmth. You aren’t sure if it is the body heat your best friend radiates or if it is the blood that runs to your cheeks. Soon you realise you aren’t exactly cuddling him back. So then you wrap your arms around his body, your hands settling on his back.
The touch of your fingers grazing his bare back pulls a shiver and a gasp out of your best friend.
“Shit, angel,” he curses under his breath, pulling back from your embrace to take one of your hands in his. Then he grabs the other one and clasps them together. “Your fingers are literally frozen!”
He holds your hands between his own warm palms as he looks at you. He holds your gaze as you continue to shiver in front of him. Anakin then lowers his head. His lips hover barely an inch over your skin, then opens his mouth to release a few hot breaths directly onto your fingers.
“Sweetheart, you’re freezing.” He whispers, almost as if more to himself. He is rubbing your hands as he looks back at you.
Then he holds your eye contact as he lowers his lips to your skin again. But this time, he presses soft kisses against your knuckles.
He continues to place kisses all over your fingers and occasionally blows some warm air onto your skin. It brings a flutter to your stomach while you stumble for something to say to him. You feel yourself melt and turn putty in his touch. As he continues to shower you in his affection you can’t help but notice how soft his touch is.
“I-I—” you choke as a whirling feeling shoots through your body. Warmth rises to your face once again and all over your body as he continues to stare into your eyes.
The last time you held hands was when you were both children, when his mom took you two to get some of your fave ice cream from the ice cream truck in the park during a hot summer afternoon.
You realise that your body is still extremely close to his, as he continues to hold your hands in his. By now most of the cold has left your body. You’re not exactly sure what made it go away but you are pretty sure Anakin is somehow the reason for it. You’re convinced he is some sort of magician because how could his touch bring warmth this fast back to you.
“Are you still cold?” He asks as he holds your gaze while he plays with your fingertips.
“Yes.” You half lie, as you bite your lip.
Being so close in this bed with him makes your cheeks turn hotter. You hope Anakin can’t sense that you’re lying, because you truly don’t want his touch to leave you.
“Oh, no,” he tuts before a smile grows on his face, “we can’t have that now.” His eyes twinkle in the dim light as he looks into yours. As he releases your hands you have to hold back a whine at the loss of his touch.
But soon he wraps his arms around you again, pulling you close against him, your chest pressed against his. He sighs softly as you settle into his embrace, and you melt into him as he holds you.
You adjust your head on the pillow. Your body relaxes instantly as he lets you bury your head in the crook of his neck. You’re both incredibly close together, you can feel his heartbeat drum at the same nervous rhythm as yours.
“Feeling better?” He questions as he leans his head on the top of your head.
He chuckles as you hum in response and continue to nuzzle your face against his skin.
“A bit,” you pull at your bottom lip as you look up at him.
His hands are warm as they wander all over your back, over the soft fabric of your pyjamas. Your eyes flutter close as you enjoy his attention. You feel yourself get lightheaded by his affection and by the close proximity of your bodies.
You feel weak around him. But in the best way.
“You’re so warm, Ani.” You blissfully sigh as you melt into him, nuzzling into his shoulder with your eyes still closed.
You hear your best friend’s breath hitch as your hands start to wander all over his back. You're feeling the soft skin of Anakin’s hips mindlessly, sending shivers up his spine as you graze your fingers slowly against his skin.
You shift your head up just slightly, his chin on your forehead as your nose touches the underside of his jaw. Across your head you can feel Anakin’s breathing, each inhale and exhale starting to deepen as your lips slowly ghost over his chin.
His head then moves away from you just slightly, and regards you for a while, as if he’s trying to determine your comfort level. As you’re both maintaining eye contact, your gaze intensifies as you’re studying Anakin’s face, including his features. You can see the little freckles, moles, his scar and the slight stubble on the lower parts of his face. Your eyes move from his eyes down the slope of his nose and soon your attention is irresistibly drawn to his lips.
The beautiful lips you’ve been dreaming about so many times.
His lips look so inviting, so soft and warm. Now that you’re thinking about kissing him, you can’t help but focus on his lips. You’ve always wondered how his lips would feel or how much you’ve always wanted them on your own. How would he kiss? Would he take his time? Or would he devour you?
There’s a moment of silence as Anakin’s face moves closer and closer to your own, both unable to verbalise just how desperate either of you feel for each other.
“Ani, I—,” you start. What are you trying to say? Your heart is beating so fast, it feels almost impossible to think of anything as you look at the man in front of you. You want to tell him everything—that you want more of his affection, that you are hopelessly in love with him, and that you want to be his and his forever.
Anakin doesn’t say anything. Instead, his hands slide down to your waist, tugging you closer just a bit closer. Your eyes widen while his become more drowsy, your breath quickening as his warm breath gently fans across your face. He smells like mint, and you feel yourself lightheaded and almost intoxicated as it washes over you, making you crave him even more.
You’re feeling hot all over, a feverish feeling overwhelming your senses, your heart can’t seem to find peace and quiet, nor can your trembling limbs. It’s not the sick type of feverish, just heat. Tingling, like anticipation but threaded into your nerves, and warmth.
Then one of his hands moves to hold one of your cheeks, allowing for his face to lean even closer to yours, his eyes sliding shut. Your own follows suit as you feel yourself get lost in the feeling of him pressed gently against your body. Both of your noses then brush ever-so slightly as he tilts his head to the side, and it feels as if in that moment the world starts moving in slow-motion.
And then it happens. The two of you are kissing, so suddenly and overwhelmingly it steals the air from your lungs.
One moment you are both staring at each other’s mouths, the next he is wrapping his arms around you, pulling your body fully against him as his soft lips claim yours.
You take a split second to register it, but instinctively you press against his lips with desperation and wrap your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.
He groans softly, a deep rumble in his chest, as you trail your tongue out to seek purchase in his mouth, and he opens for you without hesitation. Anakin swirls his tongue with yours so wonderfully it makes your toes curl and warmth spreads all over your body. His hands grips at your waist and brings your body flush against his.
As you kiss him, you give yourself to Anakin completely. He tastes like a mix of cocoa and mint, the hot chocolate he drank earlier tonight and the other flavour is probably from when he brushed his teeth, and you never wanted anything else. Just Anakin, forever.
You want him to consume your very being.
The same hand as earlier comes up to your cheek again, holding your face sweetly as he tilts his head to kiss you deeper. Your heart feels like it is about to burst out from your chest. Anakin is kissing you. He wants to kiss you. You can’t seem to wrap your head around the fact that he is literally kissing you right this moment. He kisses you like you are all he needs and that there’s nothing he’d rather do than kiss you right now, so you hold onto him, knotting one hand in his hair, letting him know without words that you don’t want this to stop.
It feels like the world around you stops and the only thing that matters is Anakin, his mouth, his touch and his body against your own. And you can’t help but want more, more.
He sighs in your mouth as one of your hands comes to trace the bottom of his scar underneath his eye. He tilts your head back, giving him access to delve in your mouth deeper, swiping his tongue across your bottom lip.
Kissing him is like breathing. He brings you so much relief, a relief so instant and intense you can’t help the soft noises bubbling in your throat. You feel truly so alive. He feels like a hot cocoa on a cold winter day, like a hearth fire, like a tender embrace in the middle of the night. He feels like home.
His soft lips move yours and control the kiss, and you can’t help but melt in his arms, letting him do anything he wants. He is so good at kissing, you want to do this and stay in this moment forever.
He pulls away after what feels like hours to breathe, his warm pants fan across your heated face. He is still holding your face with one hand, and his thumb on your cheek moves a little, stroking your skin with so much tenderness. He murmurs against your lips, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long. You have no idea how much I feel for you.” before delving back in for more.
You can’t do anything but fall into Anakin, the scent of chocolate and mint flooding your senses and intoxicating you better than any alcohol ever could. Your hands rove all over him, clutching and grabbing and pulling, anything to keep him exactly where he is, so close to you, right where he is supposed to be.
The long, frantic kisses become more sweet, loving pecks. You then pull away from him to look him in the eyes. Your hands rest on his chest as he smiles down at you, nothing but genuine care and adoration in his soft blue eyes. This is real. He must feel the same things as you do. It is almost too much for you to handle, a sweeter variety of tears falling down your face now as a wide, dizzy grin stretches across your face almost painfully.
“I… I’ve always dreamed of this, I… I-I love y-you, Anakin. So much more than you’ll ever know.” You stutter out before closing your eyes as you enjoy the feel of him being so close to you.
He stills, and you open your eyes. A thousand questions pop up all at once inside your brain as you look at him. Have you done something wrong? Was this too early? Did you not read the situation right?
Anakin pulls his head back, looks down at you. His lips are swollen and wet from all the kisses you two shared, his eyes wide and lips parting as he processes what you just confessed to him. Then, he brings his hand back to your cheek, cupping it gently.
He breathes out your name as his eyes dart all over your face.
His thumb runs along your lower lip, tracing it slowly, his eyes lost in wonder. You watch him for a moment, the look in his eyes as he stares at his thumb moving on your lip. He’s looking at you like you’re the most extraordinary thing in the world, touching you so tenderly and with such gentleness, and you never want him to stop.
Anakin leans in then, slowly, watching you with intensity while he moves his other hand to come and cup your face. He leans in until his forehead touches yours, and you sigh softly as you enjoy the closeness again. The tip of his nose nuzzles yours, his warm breath kissing your lips, less than a few millimetres away now, and you move your thumb on his cheek, stroking his skin and making his eyes fall close as he lets out a relieved sigh.
Then a gentle smile lights up his face that makes your heart swell and skip a beat. Soon his eyes open slowly before he stares deeply into your eyes.
“You are everything I desire,” he whispers, making you still your thumb on his skin as you look at him. His forehead is still pressed against yours. You take in a deep breath, feeling Anakin moving his hands on your face slowly, his fingers spreading out to touch more of you. “There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of you or dream of you. There is no one that is as mesmerising and enchanting as you. You consume my very being.” He pauses before breathing out your name. “You’re the love of my life, I love you.”
“You… y-you’re in love with me?” You stammer, unsure if you heard him correctly. You’re blinking repeatedly as you try to make the tears disappear that are forming in your eyes.
“Yeah sweetheart,” he whispers as his smile widens, his thumb stroking on your cheek again. His fingers move to wipe the tears away as they slip down your cheeks. “I’ve been in love with you since we were thirteen,” he says as his smile turns more bashful. “Probably even longer, I am sure I was too oblivious to work it out before then.”
As you look into his eyes, all you can see is pure adoration and love written in them. For all those years, this whole time, you were so scared to tell him how you feel about him… only for him to feel the same way. You were always his, ever since you first laid eyes on him.
“I’ve been in love with you since the first time we met,” you told him, voice soft and quiet. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything for anyone else besides you, ever.”
His grin is contagious, warmer than the fire that’s crackling in the fireplace, brighter than the sun on a warm summer day and you swear that in that moment you feel as if it’s just the two of you in this universe.
You lean your face closer to his to then graze your nose against Anakin’s.
“Yeah?” He smiles, blinding and it only widens when you nod shyly. His nose then moves down to press against your cheek, lips just brushing yours.
“Yeah.” You whisper as you bite your bottom lip timidly.
Slowly he brushes his lips against yours before pulling away just slightly. His tongue pokes out to wet his lips, and you have to hold back a moan at the delicious, inviting sight. “Baby,” he breathes, sending shivers down your spine, as his gaze shifts from your lips to your eyes repeatedly. “Can I…?”
You nod immediately, not trusting your words, and then he surges towards you to press his lips against yours. You sigh into it, your eyes sliding shut as you bury your fingers in his hair. Anakin groans low in his throat as your fingernails rake against his scalp. His hands then move to wander all over your body as the kiss deepens.
You whimper as he gives your bottom lip a little nip, swiping his tongue against it afterwards to soothe the sting. You gasp, and Anakin takes the opportunity to access the inside of your mouth with his tongue. You moan, feeling lightheaded and dizzy as the kiss turns more heated.
You always knew that he’d be an amazing kisser, but this is something else. His hands grip you and crushes your body to his with fervour as he licks and sucks at your tongue. All you can do is melt into him, your arms hanging loosely around his shoulders. You let out more moans and sighs into his lips as he continues to massage the inside of your mouth with his tongue just right.
Anakin devours you, pouring all his love into you and claiming your mouth and kissing you with so much passion, your body shudders with want, from the need for him. He moves his lips with yours and swirls his tongue with your own. His hand then moves to tangle in your hair as he presses his body to yours completely.
Your hands move to bury in his hair as well. This time, when you pull his hair it is a bit rougher than you intended to and it tips his head all the way back and he lets out a loud, wanton moan that makes your whole body flush with arousal. You whimper as he finally pulls away, leaving your body flush and panting and craving so much more.
“Oh fuck, baby, that’s perfect.” His voice rumbles low in his throat as his adam’s apple bobs, completely exposed. You have to fight the urge to lean down and nip at it, even more heat washes through you at his words.
“I love you Ani,” you whisper breathlessly, as he leans his head back up and kisses you hard on the mouth, his blunt nails digging into your plush hips. “I love you so much.”
“Please, will you say it again baby? I need to hear you say it once more.” He pleads as his eyes flutter.
“I love you.” You whimper as his mouth connects with yours again.
He groans into you, tilting his head to kiss you deeper, and you open your mouth for him when you feel his tongue tracing your lower lip and licking into your mouth. His hand raises to cup your cheek, the other wrapping tighter around you as he keeps your body pressed to his.
His mouth then moves from your lips to your cheeks as he whispers his love for you again and again. He starts to trail long, hot kisses down your jaw and neck. You whimper pitifully as he suckles lightly on the side of your neck, tilting your head back instinctively to bare more of your soft skin to him.
As he continues to move lower down your skin, Anakin’s tongue pokes out every now and then to lavish your skin with it. Lapping, kissing and sucking at your body. His kisses become longer, hotter and more fervent as he continues on. You whine, squeezing your eyes shut as you pull him closer against you.
Anakin groans and bites down gently on the junction of your neck and shoulder. You cry out, impulsively grinding your hips against his in a desperate search for some much-needed friction against your aching clit.
You gasp, your eyes flying open at the hard bulge you feel against your pussy. You whine as your core starts clenching around nothing, begging for attention, his attention.
Instinctively you start moving your hips against his making him groan against your skin. The feel of his desire pressed against your heated skin is heavenly, and you roll your hips up into his to feel some friction against your core.
“Need you so bad baby,” he groans against your skin. You shudder against him and feel the sensation pool down low between your thighs. You’re certain that your underwear is ruined by now.
A high pitched whimper slips past your lips as he starts to move along with you, grinding against your clothed cunt.
Anakin pulls away to look at you. His blue eyes stare into yours as his hands move underneath your night dress, his fingers trailing up your thigh. You feel yourself grow nervous at his touch. Despite how much you want it, anxiety bubbles up inside the pit of your stomach.
“Wait,” you whisper and his movements halt immediately.
“You okay, sweetheart?” He asks worriedly.
“Y-yeah,” you stutter before exhaling deeply. “You are my best friend, so you know everything about me right?”
“Yes, of course.” He frowns.
You take a shuddering breath, mentally preparing yourself for what you are about to say. “Then that also means that I should tell you that I’ve never been intimate with anyone in my life yet.”
You nibble at your bottom lip as his eyes widen in realisation. He knows what you’re insinuating. That you’re a virgin.
You want Anakin so bad, you’ve been dreaming about this for so long but you’d be lying if this doesn’t make you nervous.
It wasn’t like you haven’t dated before. You have been on plenty of dates all your life, too many actually, you’ve even been in a short relationship, but unfortunately, nobody had really charmed their way into your heart like Anakin did. You’ve tried to get over your feelings for him for a long while but it’s impossible. And the thought of being intimate with anyone else but your best friend just never felt right.
A part of you always hoped that maybe, one day he’d feel the same.
“Oh sweet girl,” he says softly as he looks at you with so much tenderness it has you melting against him all over again. “Please don’t you worry about that,” he smiles warmly as he leans down to nudge his nose against yours. “I will take good care of you.”
“I need and want you so bad, but I’m scared that I might let you down.” You whisper as you continue to nibble anxiously at your bottom lip. “That I’ll disappoint you…”
“Baby,” Anakin speaks softly before he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your temple while he holds you close. Your body relaxes instantly at his affectionate touch. “I am certain you could never disappoint me with this. It doesn’t matter whether you’re experienced or not, you’ll always be the best lover I could ever ask. Because you’re perfect for me.”
He looks at you with so much adoration and love it has you melting against him all over again. “I trust you Ani,” you nod timidly and soon he leans down to envelop your lips in a slow but deep kiss.
Warmth spreads all over your body as his hands start to wander. You whimper against his mouth as his hands slowly caress both of your thighs. Your head is clouded with so much lust, you feel so much love for him. Your brain instantly turns into mush as you continue to kiss each other passionately.
Slowly his hands reach under your night dress moving towards your lower back and trace the soft skin there. You then start to move your hips desperately against his as you moan into his mouth, hoping that Anakin will get the hint soon enough.
The kiss then increases with an intensity that has you gasping for breath. You roll your hips into his, rubbing your throbbing clit against him for some friction against your core. You moan into his mouth as you rub against him. The front of his pyjama pants strains as he grinds along with you again.
Suddenly everything becomes overwhelming, the temperature in the room is rising quickly, the feel of his touch as it wanders all over your skin and the fact that you’re going into a foreign but intimate territory with your best friend has you feeling hot all over.
He groans as you continue to grind up against him, grasping your hips into his hands to halt your movements. You whine as he then rolls you both over, hovering over you as he pins your arms gently against the mattress.
You’re so desperate to feel him again.
“So impatient,” he chuckles with a devious smile after he pulls back momentarily to inhale some air. “Such a needy kitten, begging for my touch.”
“Please,” you whine desperately as you wiggle underneath him.
Moments later his lips press against yours again. The kiss gets more heated the more you kiss each other. His hands move down your body again while yours wander to the back of his head and you pull at some strands softly making him moan into your mouth. One of his hands trails slowly up your stomach as the other holds onto your hip. You’re feeling weak at his touch and warmth pools between your thighs as you continue to kiss each other while your hands wander all over each other.
His fingers brush delicately over the sides of your ribs, moving up and down your skin repeatedly, his fingertips mapping out every dip and curve as they wander all over your skin.
“You’re so soft,” he whispers against your mouth. Moments later he pulls his hands away only for his hands to settle on the hem of your hoodie. “Can I take this off, baby?”
You bite your lip and then nod frantically, unable to use your voice at that moment. He smiles as his hands brush under your hoodie for a second before he hooks his fingers in the fabric and draws it upwards.
You raise your arms to help him remove it. As Anakin is pulling away your first garment, the night gown automatically moves along with it. Soon his hands move down to the fabric underneath, pulling it up along with the hoodie. You feel heat rising on your skin the way his eyes roam all over you, taking in every little detail.
The way Anakin is looking at you, eyes filled with nothing but love and adoration, has you feeling so alive.
You don’t know what to do with your hands. They’re trembling so much, and your core is, too, as he discards both of the pieces of clothing to the side and begins mouthing along your collarbone with affection.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers as his mouth travels all over your exposed skin.
Your bare chests are touching, your skin on fire. You look at him with wide eyes, as he continues to kiss your skin, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.
His large hands move to the curve of your waist where it meets your hips and clutches it, holding you tight as he litters damp kisses and nips to your shoulders and any skin along the way down to your breasts. You whimper as he traces the tip of his nose over the swell of your breast.
He leans down, pressing the softest kiss to the side of your breast before he looks up. “Are you okay?” His forearms rests on either side of your body, and when you nod, he brings a single hand up to stroke your left cheek. “If we’re gonna go any further, I need you to talk to me, angel. I need verbal communication. Think you can do that?”
You stare at him for a moment before you nod again. He gives you a knowing look and warmth rises up in your body again. “Sorry,” you whisper. “Y-yes, Ani. Yes, I think I can do that.”
“Good girl,” he praises with a gentle smile. “And if you want me to stop,” he continues, his lips returning to your fiery skin, trailing barely there kisses down the valley of your breasts. Your eyes flutter shut, hands grasping at the sheets. “You tell me right away. Okay?” He mutters in a raw tone, strained.
“Y-yes, I understand Ani.” You whimper.
“Good.”
He breathes in through his nose as he inhales your scent and you shiver when he exhales warmly through his mouth and onto your nipple. “Fuck, baby, you’re so beautiful.”
Then, he wraps his lips around one nipple, teeth just skimming your skin as he sucks and licks with passion.
“Ani,” you mewl as you try to grind your hips against something, your cunt seeking friction.
“Good?” he quips back, peering up at you as his mouth curls into a Cheshire Cat smile. You feel your skin flush with heat as you just stare down at him. Lust is written all over your face and he has no trouble reading your expression. So he resumes licking, long, lavishing licks with the flat of his tongue over your pebbled nipple as a hand goes up to squeeze your other breast.
You take it upon yourself to bring the hand that’s squeezing your breast, guiding it down to your heat. As his fingers slip underneath the band of your underwear, down to where you need him the most, his mouth falls open to unleash a loud groan onto your nipple as his fingers slip between your wet lips.
He traces your pussy softly for a while before he pulls himself completely away from you. He sits up as he removes his pants, you whine as you close your eyes, desperate to feel his touch, wanting him on you again.
Once he removes all of his clothes, you feel him move back up to you. He leans down, roving his lips down to your neck, licking and sucking, as his hands cup your sensitive breasts, massaging them in his hands. Heat overwhelms you as Anakin litters soft kisses down your shoulders to your chest. Your hands find his head, running your fingers through his hair as his mouth continues to wander all over your naked skin.
Anakin’s lips move slowly down your body, kissing every little place he can find on your skin while his hands trace along.
He then leans forward, breathing in your core and running his nose along the patch of dampness. You pull at his hair as he inhales your scent. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he hums as he looks up at you with a smile, his hands leave your skin to curl his fingers into the waistband of your panties. “You smell so good. Can’t wait to taste you.”
A shuddering breath leaves your lips as you lift your hips instinctively allowing him to take off your underwear. Once he pushes your legs wide for him, you whimper as the air hits your wet slit. He takes a moment as his eyes take over you, your glistening centre clenching around nothing as he continues to stare at your wet hole.
He licks his lips before leaning down, lips lingering on your thighs, licking and sucking some kisses on your soft skin, Anakin’s lips are so close to where you need him the most yet he feels so far away.
“So pretty,” he murmurs as he guides your legs over either of his shoulders.
You’re about to beg as his lips detach from your thigh, only for moments later to feel him nuzzling against your pussy, smearing your juices across his lips and opening you up to his skilled tongue.
You gasp and squirm at the contact of his wet tongue.
He pulls away again only for his fingers to move to spread your outer lips for him, Anakin smirks as he slides a finger inside of you, watching the way your body squirms at the sensation or the way your wet hole swallows the digit, and you moan against the pillow next to you trying to muffle yourself.
The whine that comes out of you only drives Anakin to seek out more of those heavenly sounds.
“Fuck, such tight pussy.” He moans, as your cunt clenches repeatedly around his digit. “Need to prepare you for my cock.”
Your whines become louder as you feel the pleasure overwhelm you. His fingers are so much bigger than yours, one of his fingers is more pleasurable than any of your fingers.
You whine as your core continues clenching around his finger, begging for more. He pumps his finger in and out of you at a leisurely pace. Instinctively you begin moving your hips, grinding against his hand, as he moans. He looks at you intensely as he continues to fuck you with his finger. His eyes can’t seem to stay in one place as he admires how beautiful you are underneath him.
You are panting heavily, barely able to think straight as he slowly slips two more fingers inside you. Anakin moves them slowly at first as your tight pussy tries to adjust to the addition. The stretch is overwhelming but so satisfying. Little whimpers leave your lips as he fucks you with his fingers. He moves his face back to meet yours, engulfing you in a passionate kiss, swallowing all your little mewls.
Your hands are tangled in his hair, pulling at the strands as your body moves along with the pace of his fingers, feeling him curl them and spread them.
You gasp, his tongue slipping inside your mouth, kissing you with everything that he has. "That feels good doesn't it, baby girl? You like it when I touch you like this?" Anakin groans and his thumb makes contact with your clit. You buck your hips and nod quietly. "Use your words angel," he taunts.
“Yes, please please Ani, feels… so good.” You moan loudly.
Soon his lips travel all the way down your body making you whine and whimper and beg silently for more — all while he’s still finger fucking you.
Anakin inhales your scent as soon as he leans forward, but doesn’t let you wait in anticipation much longer. He wets his lips before his head dips between your legs, warm tongue licking a slow stripe across your outer lips, all the way up to your button.
“Fuck, Aniiii!” You shriek, as your hips buck off the mattress.
Squeaky, senseless noises bubble up from your throat wantonly. Your hips stutter against him and he just sighs like there’s nothing in the world he'd rather be doing than this right now, eating you out on this bed.
You’re a mess of his name, chanted and stuttering over and over again like a prayer. Your eyes squeeze shut to the point of tears, his mouth licks up your clit, he continues to finger you while one of his other hands is holding your hip, pinning you to the soft sheets as you buck into him, trying to urge him to do more.
The way he works up your arousal by pumping his fingers in and out of you, curling up ever so slightly to find the spongy spot inside of you. The familiar coil in your belly continues to build up as Anakin suckles on your sensitive bud. Your abdomen tightens as he starts to quicken his pace again, his fingers hitting into that sweet spot with precision, has your toes curling and clenching your thighs to squeeze around his head.
“Aah, too much!” you squeak, strangled and desperate and extremely close to the edge, “t-too too much, I-I–fuck.”
“Easy, angel,” he whispers before he places a soft kiss on one of your thighs, his fingers stilling inside you.
“Aniiii baby,” you mumble as you borrow your head in the pillow.
“It’s okay baby, I know, I’ve got you” he coos again, his smile all teasing. “It’s a lot. Will you let me continue?”
“Y-yeah, just uh wait a second” you whine.
“Anything for you.”
But after a moment, waiting feels too much. It feels like hours are passing by. You’re already tired of waiting and he is, too. Anakin leans down to dip his tongue between your folds to lick upwards to your clit.
You sigh at the same time he does, except yours is very high-pitched and his sounds so dreamy. Anakin is lapping at you with determination, moving his fingers slowly in and out of you, taking care not to be too rough this time and push you over the edge when you’re not ready for it.
“Oh, my god,” you whimper, trembling digits sinking half into his brown hair and the other against your teeth, trying to silence yourself. “Fuck, ahhh Ani, f-fuck…”
He moans against you as his lips seal around your clit and you buck your hips at the action. “Fucking- you taste good. You feel so good. You’re everything.”
“Fuck, Ani baby, oh my fucking— god,” you cry out loud. You’re sure your friends in the other rooms have heard you by now. He sucks lazily at your clit while he curls his fingers into you. Anakin eventually sucks harder on your clit, still occasionally swirling his tongue around your little bud while moving his fingers inside you a bit faster. You keep chanting his name between moans as you now hold onto his hair with both of your hands.
You gasp loudly as your whole body trembles even more, the hot feeling continues to spread all over your body, your body tingling, your hips moving at their own accord against Anakin’s hand and face. Then your body tenses as you come against his mouth. Your whole mind feels like exploding and all you can see is stars. You feel so overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure and emotions you are experiencing. Your body is still trembling as you feel yourself come down from your high.
“You’re doing so well for me baby,” he says proudly as his fingers slow down, slipping out of you to rub your slit softly, while he continues to lick your clit, still helping you ride out your orgasm.
You are a sputtering mess while he teeters you towards overstimulation.
As you come back to your senses, you feel his fingers slip away from your heat. Your pussy clenches repeatedly around nothing, you feel like a hot storm and you’re sopping wet from the waist down and dripping down the poor sheets, as you whimper helplessly.
You need him so bad. Your pussy continues to pulse, begging to be filled all over again. Begging for his cock.
Your eyes are still closed as you feel your legs being spread further apart with his strong hands. A loud broken moan leaves your lips as Anakin dives between your legs again, licking a stripe up through your folds and teasingly dipping his tongue into your needy hole before he travels up to your clit, spreading your lips with his wet muscle and sucking your button into his mouth.
You practically scream at his actions, arching your back slightly off the bed. Your body trembles terribly. You need more. You try to grind your wetness slowly against his lips as your body continues to shake.
Strong arms are suddenly locked around your thighs, securing your hips with his biceps, holding you still despite your attempts to grind your pussy against his lips.
“Taste so good kitten, could eat this pussy all day.”
The man you love the most in this whole universe is between your legs as he keeps sliding his tongue up and down your sensitive slit. Your little mewls and other noises spur him on, to move his lips back up to your clit. He then sucks the nub softly between his lips.
Eventually he leans down, slipping his tongue into your entrance, he curls the muscle upward to brush your walls, the sight of your fingers bunching the fabric of the sheets in a tight grip encouraging him to do it again.
You’re a mess, a whimpering needy mess. Your hips try to move against his face as you continue to moan breathlessly underneath him. Writhing below him, you feel him lick up and press against a sensitive spot inside that has you seeing stars, while your hips buck against his face uncontrollably. Thighs clamp around his head as you feel another orgasm nearing. Defiance and greed consumes your thoughts, your fingers once again gripping onto his brown hair rather harshly and hips pushing against his face to shove his tongue deeper into your hole.
“Ahhh Anakiiiin—” you drag out. You are so close, you just need one more little push.
You’re moving your hips against his face, fucking yourself onto his tongue as he applies pressure on your sensitive spot inside you with his tongue, you can feel his thumb circling your clit, making you see stars.
“Be a good girl and come for me,” Anakin moans against your pussy before plunging his tongue back inside. With a bit more pressure on your clit and the sound of his deep voice you come with a loud whine, your vision turning white and your ears ringing as you feel your movements against his face getting sloppier.
Your hips are stuttering until the final waves of aftershock pass. Gently, he laps at your release until the overstimulation is getting too much.
“You did so well angel, you’re so good to me. So beautiful. You taste so good and sweet.” He says, his voice deep, as he kisses the skin of your inner thigh.
You whimper at his words, gently pulling your hips away from his mouth. He grins, holding eye contact as he brings his glistening fingers to his mouth.
You giggle as he licks his fingers clean, feeling slightly embarrassed by the action. You bring your hands up lazily to cover your heated cheeks, but Anakin is having none of it. He places soft kisses all over your hands and then drags them down gently, then leans down to pepper kisses to your nose, your forehead, your cheeks, until his mouth lands on your lips with a smile, joining in on the soft laughter between each kiss.
He pulls away with a satisfied sigh, he smiles as he reaches to touch the side of your neck, tracing his fingertips up and down.
You sigh as you melt at the feel of his touch and kiss his thumb as it comes to trace across your lips. You wrap your still shaky legs around his hips as you stare into his eyes.
“I think I’m ready.”
“Sure?” He asks softly.
“Yes,” you nod as you then snake your hand between the both of you, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek.
“We can stop at any time if it’s becoming too much for you,” he reminds you, and you know the serious look in his eyes comes from nowhere else but concern.
You pout up at him as you trace your fingers over the scar of his right eye. “I know I’m nervous but I don’t want to stop.”
“Sweetheart,” he coos. “I just want you to be comfortable and I want you to know that it’s okay if you change your mind. I wouldn’t adore you any less if we stop here tonight.”
Tears well up in your eyes as you try to fight them from rolling down your cheeks. His words truly touch you. There’s no one in this world that you adore more than him. You were certain you wanted to continue with him but after his reassurance, you want him even more. You love this man so much. He’s your everything.
You take a deep breath, swallowing back the lump in your throat and bringing your other hand up to cradle both of his cheeks. He looks you in the eyes with intensity. “I want to experience this with you,” you say softly. “I trust and love you with everything that I am.”
He looks at you with so much adoration, tenderness and like you’re a goddess. As if you’re meant to be worshipped and held with the utmost reverence. It has your cheeks heat up, but it also warms your heart, making you feel a lot less nervous.
He then leans down to enwrap your mouth with his, kissing you deeply as he cups your face. Your legs tighten around his hips, pushing him closer against your body. You can feel his hard cock against your core as it strains against the confines of his underwear, sending another hot flash of arousal through you.
Taking a leap of faith, you trail your hands from his cheeks all the way down his torso until your fingers meet his abdomen, slipping momentarily underneath the waistband of his boxers. Then your hands move to the band, as you tug at it.
Anakin watches you as all he can do is focus on your touch, and when he feels the still of your hands, he takes it upon himself to slowly peel back, shuffling a bit to rid himself of the last remaining clothing off of him. He tosses it aside, fully exposing himself to your hungry eyes.
Your breath hitches, your eyes wide. Fuck, he was massive. Long and thick in all the right ways. A spark of heat shoots down to your clenching core as you imagine how he will fit or fill you. But it is also accompanied by a twinge of nerves.
Anakin chuckles as he moves back closer to you, as his lips chase your own, as he envelops you into another sweet but deep kiss. “What is this beautiful head of yours thinking?”
“H-how?” You say quietly as you stare at him.
Anakin laughs softly and you can’t help but pout up at him as you hear his soft laughter. “I promise, it will fit.” He reassures you quickly as his hand cups your cheek gently. “Don’t you worry my sweet girl.”
He guides himself into position, his tip poking slightly at your entrance and causing another surge of heat to course through your veins. He rests his forehead against yours, looking deeply into your eyes.
You smile and bite your lip as you roll your hips against his to feel his cock. It turns slick as you keep grinding yourself against him, he glides his hips along with yours as he rubs against you.
“I love you,” you whisper as you nuzzle your nose against his, reaching up to place a soft kiss to his lips.
His eyes glow in the orange light with a soft, loving warmth. “I love you too.” He presses another sweet kiss to your lips.
The two of you kiss languidly for a moment, treasuring the heat of each other's bodies as your lips slot together with ease, but soon enough the kisses become deeper, and hands start to grip tighter and legs tangling together.
He holds his length in his hands as he keeps rubbing the head of his cock from your entrance, up to your clit, circling until you squirm underneath him, and back down. Anakin loves the sounds you make as he spreads his precum around your slit, where you are still dripping for him.
The thought of him finally entering you with his cock makes you wetter and turns you even more on. Anakin swallows your whines with his lips against yours, his hips rolling with yours. He kisses you full with fervour, his grip on you intensifying heatedly.
You’re trembling against him, full of anticipation. His body covers your whole body with his. You writhe against him, wishing he was just in you already and filling you up and making you see white.
“I’ll try to go slow, okay, angel?” He says before leaning back down to kiss your lips again, he reaches down and grasps himself to line up between your lips and slide. He is rubbing the tip firmly over your slit and your mind is all over the place.
“P-please, Anakin,” you stutter, your body trembling even more underneath him. “P-put it in, please?”
He rubs himself up and down your slit for a while longer before he moves his dick teasingly around your core. You arch your back slightly and whine loudly out of frustration.
“Relax baby girl,” he whispers against your mouth.
You whimper in anticipation as his forehead touches yours. He nudges the tip of him against your hole, still slick with arousal. Your legs tremble underneath him, a mix of nerves and excitement. Once he notches himself inside of you, a gasp elicits from the both of you.
You know it was just the tip of him, but you can’t help but feel the stretch already. Anakin slides in so slowly it’s agonising. He’s careful, like he’s afraid you might break. You let out a long broken whine as he gradually pushes more of him inside you. He’s so big.
You tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling slightly as you whine underneath him. He pants along with you, his warm breath fanning over your face while he keeps his forehead pressed against yours. The stretch stings, but his pace keeps it bearable. He guides himself a centimetre further, then another, another, until you are digging your nails into his scalp, a gasp spilling from your lips.
His hips still instantly once he hears the pained noises falling from your lips. Tears begin to prickle at your waterline, a combination of discomfort and the overwhelming feelings coursing through you.
“Doing so good for me baby,” he praises as he peppers your face with soft kisses. “You’re doing amazing.”
“Please,” you whimper as your eyes flutter close.
He continues to move almost painfully slow, letting you adjust to every centimetre of him. After a couple of seconds you’re able to relax more into it. You whimper, clutching his shoulders at the stretch, the heat in your abdomen growing as your walls flutter around him, pleasure beginning to bloom in your stomach.
“Such a good girl,” he grunts softly. You think there isn’t a possibility to get more wet but as he utters those words you feel your heat get even more wet.
Once he bottoms out, a soft gasp slips past your lips as his tip kisses your cervix. The tears that lingered at your eyes are now falling freely down your cheeks. You feel so full and relieved as he stills against you. Your walls involuntarily flutter around him, getting used to his size. Anakin’s soft lips are on your forehead, leaving soft kisses and whispering sweet nothings and words of encouragement.
You take your time, your eyes slowly opening once you’re ready. As you open your eyes unhurriedly, Anakin is already staring down at you with an intense concern. “I’m fine,” you promise with a pant, nodding as you look at him. “It’s just, a lot.”
As you feel yourself adjust to his size, you realise how full you feel. So full, as if he is made for you, and only you. The feeling of him filling you up so completely has you seeing stars.
You need more.
He groans as you clench around him, and you note the twitch of restraint in his focused brow. “Ani, you can move,” you whisper, bringing a shaky hand up to push the curls that fell before his eyes and off his forehead.
He looks at you with a tender look, before he moans after you squeeze around his girth and tilt your hips to invite him to move. He wets his lips before he moves slow and deep. His thrusts start as gentle rocks of his hips, never pulling too far in or out, just enough to feel every movement. The sting hurts for a moment, but it easily morphs into a more pleasurable feeling as he continues to move against you.
Slowly, you are getting used to his girth, anticipating it every time he pulls out of you before moving forward. Your legs are splayed open on either side of his hips as he grinds his cock into you. The angle is so good, gradually he picks up his pace, leaving you a whimpering mess underneath him. As he fucks into you in languid strokes, the sound of slick skin is being heard in the room.
Every time he thrusts into you, his pelvic bone drags along your throbbing clit, making you cry out his name in pure ecstasy.
“You’re taking me so well, sweet girl. Doing so so, good for me.” He whispers against your skin as he moves to nuzzle his face against your neck.
Soft grunts fall from Anakin’s lips whenever he hits a specific deep spot inside you. You whimper as his lips move back up to your lips, enveloping them in a heated kiss. He snakes one of his hands down between your conjoined bodies finding your clit as he rubs two fingers over the sensitive nub.
At a certain point you feel him slide into a pressure point in your core and coupled with the way his fingers circle your clit, it has you clenching like a vise around his dick. Your eyes roll to the back of your head from the pleasure he is providing you. The whimpers that fall off your lips become higher pitched as he picks up his pace.
“Feeling good baby?” He moans, as his lips curl into a soft smile while he can’t help but admire the way your face contorts in pure pleasure. Too overwhelmed by the new experience. Filth and praise continues to come out of his mouth as he fucks you. “This pussy was made for me.”
His mouth covers your own instead as he swallows all your little noises of pleasure, you can feel the tightness return in your belly, the tight coil that pulls tighter with every movement and every touch.
Your whimpers, gasps of pleasure and pants increase as ecstasy and warmth overwhelm your senses.
His hands can’t get enough of you, sliding around your hips and lower back, wanting to feel all of you, touch you everywhere. You whimper at the feeling of his speed, feeling another orgasm coming so close, eyes tightly shut and legs locked bruisingly around Anakin’s hips. He can feel it too, in the way you clench and squeeze at his length, and he starts to drive even harder into your heat as he tilts his hips gently, searching for the one place that he hopes will blow your mind.
Your arms tremble as they wrap around him, your nails digging in his back making him groan on top of you. The feeling of the coil tightening in your belly, is tingling down to your legs, ready to snap at any moment.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, cursing under his breath when you purposefully tighten your walls around him. “Bet you’d look even prettier with my cum inside your pussy. All full and messy.”
“Please…” you moan as you think about him filling you up. “Please Ani, baby, fill this pussy up.”
He grunts as he buries his face into your neck as he fucks into you, making the whole bed rattle at his force.
“You want to cum sweetheart?”
You nod frantically at his words while your eyes flutter close as you bite your lip harshly. You're bucking up beneath him, nails digging into his skin even more as his hand moves back to your clit as another comes to intertwine your hands together, pinning them to the bed. He rubs your clit with enough pressure to ensure you’ll cum around him.
“Cum for me, kitten.” Anakin demands softly.
And when he finally nudges against that spot inside you coupled with his deep voice– you're exploding, shattering, and detonating all at once, crying out his name. Blood is rushing so wildly in your ears that you can't possibly hear the way you wail and sob as he crashes his lips onto yours, swallowing all your noises. Your head lolls back, your back arching violently as you twist and contort in pleasure under him.
Anakin groans in your ear as your walls spasm and pulse around his cock, begging him to cum inside, desperate for him to fill you up the way he promised.
“Fuck,“ he moans, pushing himself up as he thrusts deeper into you, the head of his cock hitting your cervix repeatedly. “You want me to fill this pussy up? Make it all messy?”
You’re still in a daze but you’re still able to understand him so you nod vigorously at his words, whining even more at the sensitivity. Your pussy squeezes around his cock in anticipation. “Please…”
He moves his hips sloppily before he groans loudly, as he finally cums inside you. The warmth of his seed fills you up and spreads within your walls. You whimper at the feel of his cum dripping out of you once he pulls out.
It's a blurry haze when you come back to your senses, your whole body is aching whilst simultaneously feeling the most relaxed you've ever been, equally as exhausted as it is energised, and you don't bother trying to question why. Just pure contentment.
Once both of you caught your breaths, Anakin leans his forehead against yours before kissing you tenderly.
“That was…” He breathes, smiling tiredly at the complete dopey mess he's made of you; hair all over the place and eyes lidded heavily, heated skin glowing and your lips looking swollen from all the kisses you’ve both shared.
“Oh yeah, that was amazing.” Your voice comes out hoarse, still recovering from the height and volume it had gone, and you clear your throat gently before you smile up at him.
Your skin is sweaty and sticky but he doesn't seem to care, pulling you closer and running his hands over any piece of skin he can find, still in awe at how amazing you looked coming apart beneath him— all because of him.
You’re overwhelmed with so much love and adoration as you look at him. Both of your hands come up to cup his cheeks before you pull him down again for another sweet and slow kiss.
Suddenly his body shakes above yours as he chuckles. You pull away from his lips as you look at him with a confused grin. “What’s so funny?”
“I’m thankful everyone made sure that we would be sharing a room together.” He says before laughing as you look at him with a surprised expression on your face.
“Oh my god. You think they set us up?” Your eyes widen and you gasp as realisation hits you.
“I don’t just think so, I’m very certain of this.” He continues between chuckles. “In fact, I’m pretty sure some of them even bet on us.”
“They did not!” You gasp dramatically before you giggle along with him.
“They sure did,” he smirks as you continue to laugh softly underneath him. He leans down to press a soft kiss against your forehead, “we have to clean you up.” Anakin mumbles as his fingers trace down your sides causing you to shiver and close your eyes.
“Later, I’m tired,” you murmur back whiningly.
With a low laugh he picks you up, making you yelp in surprise. “Up you go.” You’re about to complain that you can walk perfectly to the bathroom on your own, when you feel sore and your legs feel numb.
He reaches the bathroom, he then sits you down on the edge of the bathtub all while running the water and surprising you by adding in your favourite bath bomb, to make a bubble bath. You can’t believe he brought your fave bath bomb along on this trip. It brings a smile to your face. Once the bath is warm and semi filled, he picks you up again and helps you in the tub and you close your eyes, feeling your muscles relax quickly, basking in the warmth and comfort of the bath.
“Ani?” You question, hoping that he’s still in the room.
“Yes, my princess?” He says softly.
Your eyes flutter open and you see him sitting next to the end of the tub. “Can you please, join me?” You whisper timidly.
“Of course, angel.” Anakin smiles before he stands up.
You look up at him as you scoot towards the middle of the tub, leaving him some space to slip behind you. Anakin slips one foot in as you scoot further away to allow him to comfortably move himself into the bath.
His arms wrap around your middle as he pulls you impossibly closer to him. You sigh happily as you lean your body against his.
“I love you,” he whispers against your ear as he presses soft kisses down your neck. You smile as you melt in his embrace.
“I love you too.”
For a while, you stay like this, enjoying each other’s warmth and company.
Until,
“You think they heard us?”
“Ani!” You hit his arm playfully. “I was enjoying the calm and our moment together.”
He chuckles as he shrugs against you. “I am serious.”
“Yeah sure,” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Was that sarcasm? Because I can be serious.” He laughs as he pinches your side teasingly. “Very serious.”
You squeak at the pinch, soon morphing into giggles as he tickles you. “No!” you gasp as you try to wriggle out of his grasp.
You continue to giggle as you feel his fingers trace against your sides, knowing that is where you’re ticklish.
“No! Stop! This isn’t fair,” you say as you try to gasp for air while still laughing, “you know that I’m sensitive here.”
“You know what’s not fair? Making fun of your boyfriend who is trying to be very serious.”
You gasp dramatically, “that’s not true and you know it!”
“I’ll stop when you promise to stop laughing.” Anakin says, as he grabs your waist.
“Okay, okay! I’ll stop. But I can’t stop laughing when you keep touching me like this.” You close your eyes and giggle as he’s still tracing the sides of your body.
Anakin hums as he stops his movements, his arms wrapping around your waist instead, pulling you flush against him again.
You sigh relieved when you’re not feeling ticklish anymore.
He brings one of his hands up to your cheeks, moving your face right up to level with his lips a mere breath away. “Even when you’re laughing at me, you’re still the sexiest and most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”
His lips then envelop yours in a soft and gentle kiss.
“I love you,” he whispers against your lips.
Shuffling closer into him in the water, you press your naked body against his. Easily, your legs tangle together, and closing your eyes, you let his words and the comfort of his presence wash over you.
“I love you too.”
And that’s how the rest of the night goes, tender kisses and soft touches shared between you two as you enjoy each other's company. Feeling so loved and at home as you melt in his embrace.
#anakin skywalker#anakin skywalker smut#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker fanfiction#anakin smut#anakin skywalker x reader smut#modern!anakin#anakin skywalker imagine#anakin skywalker x you#star wars anakin#anakin x reader#anakin skywalker x female reader#anakin skywalker x y/n#star wars x reader#star wars fanfiction#star wars smut#star wars x you#anakin skywalker fluff#star wars x y/n#star wars#my writing
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Goddess — Cassian x Plus-size!Reader
Summary: Just Cass worshiping his gorgeous, gorgeous mate.
Word Count: 2.7k
Warnings: Pretty much pwp. Adult Content, 18+, minors dni. 🫶🏻
You can hear him, scent him, from down the hall.
He approaches your shared bedroom with firm, purposed footsteps. His shoes slam against the wooden floor with every great stride he takes. He’s not graceful like some males are. There’s a raw ruggedness to every movement; the swirling storm of somebody who will never be light nor lithe on their feet. But the charged, almost frantic energy with which he does everything is, undeniably, one of your favourite things about him.
The door bursts open, and Cassian enters.
He’s flushed and sweaty like he always is after training, strands of hair hanging down from where they’ve ripped free from the knot at the nape of his neck. He brushes them back with a large, callused hand, and takes in the sight of you sprawled on your bed, an open book perched on your lap.
He’s always a little wild and frenetic, an animal that can’t be tamed, but this morning — this morning, it seems…extreme. A fire burns in his hazel eyes, and he licks his lips and rolls his shoulders as though there’s too much tension in them.
“How was training?” You ask casually, thumbing through your book.
“Fuck training.” Is all Cassian offers, and then he’s clambering onto the bed and folding his body over yours. “C’mere.”
He dips his head, clearly intent on capturing you in a kiss. But before it can land, your palm is in his face, pushing him away.
“Take your shoes off before you get on the bed, Cass.” You complain. “You’re all sweaty, too.”
A wicked grin tugs his lips up. He kicks his shoes off without sparing them a glance, and then he’s prowling back towards you. “You love it.”
Before you can respond, his mouth is slanting over yours in a deep kiss. His tongue immediately probes your mouth, and a deep groan rumbles in his chest.
“I couldn’t concentrate.” He huffs onto your mouth, hands moving up to your breasts. He gives a gentle squeeze. “I kept thinking about these.”
Immediately, your back arches into the touch. You tug your mouth off of his and cup his face, forcing him to look at you. “I’m not sure that’s part of the regime.”
“No it absolutely is not. But it still didn’t stop me thinking of them. Of everything I had waiting for me back here. This,” he moves down, pressing a kiss to the soft, pudgy flesh of your belly, “Mother above, I love this. And these,” his palms slip under your thighs, “I could spend all fucking day kissing these.”
He loves your thighs — has a real fascination with them. He loves touching them, stroking them, kissing them. Loves slotting himself between them. And fuck, he loves — is obsessed, even — with watching the way they rub together through your breeches while you walk. The way fabric hugs them and outlines their shape. The silvery stretch marks that create patterns in your skin and — rather conveniently — draw a path that snake up right to the creases between your legs. Yeah — he really, really loves those.
“I can’t imagine Azriel was all too impressed with your distraction.” You smile down at your mate, raking your fingers through his hair.
He growls softly, gently nips the flesh of one thigh, exposed beneath the shirt that you shucked on to lounge in — Cassian’s shirt. “I don’t want to hear another male’s name on those pretty lips right now.” He murmurs. “Only mine.”
“Jealous, jealous male.”
“Always.” His fingers are finding their way under the shirt, and he’s tugging it up, exposing more of you as you allow him to peel it from your skin. He chucks it behind him without giving it another thought, and then his eyes are devouring you.
Naked, now, except for your undergarments, Cassian can see everything from your full breasts to your soft tummy to your chubby thighs, and every dip, swell and crevice in between.
It’s taken you a while to make peace with the fact that you do not have the figure of the other females in Rhysand’s Inner Circle — and to realise that that is in no way a bad thing. That having a different body to them doesn’t mean having a lesser body than them. That yours is just as beautiful as theirs are — in a different way.
And having Cassian, the brilliant Illyrian general, worship you from head to toe every. single. day, most certainly helps.
Such heat flares in his gaze, now, as he drinks you in, that it’s almost too much to watch.
“You’re unreal,” he pants, despite no real exertion — yet. “I am so not worthy of you.”
“You’re more than worthy—”
“You’re a goddess. An actual fucking goddess.”
His mouth meets yours again, but it isn’t staying there long. He slots himself between those thighs he loves so much, his fingers biting into the generous flesh as he kisses his way along your jaw and down your neck, over your chest, down to the swells of your breasts. His tongue immediately flicks over one of your nipples, and you sigh at the sensation.
“I’ve never needed anyone or anything like I need you.” His mouth closes over your breast, a harsh suck puckering the flesh. “All,” he moves to the other breast, “the damn,” another suck, “time.”
“Cass,” you breathe, pleasure rolling down your spine. You need…something, anything — him.
“On it, sweetheart.” He says, and his kisses continue downwards.
They pepper your stomach, your hips, your pelvis. And his hands roam your body as they do, grasping at anywhere he can touch. He’s utterly obsessed with you, and he groans and ruts against the bed as he inhales slowly, breathes in your scent.
“You ready for me?” He grazes his teeth against your hip, dipping his fingers just past the waistband of your underwear. “My filthy mate. I can smell how ready you are.”
“Yes,” you sink back into the pillows, “please, Cass.”
“You never have to ask twice.”
He’s yanking your underwear down, and the stronger your scent becomes, the less he’s able to tamp down on those carnal noises that sound almost like animalistic snarls. He kisses one thigh, the other, and then tugs your legs apart with a hiss through his teeth.
“This is what I was thinking about during training.” He eyes your sex hungrily. “Getting between these incredible thighs. I couldn’t stop myself, and everyone knew it.”
“So get between them, General.” You drag a hand down your body, stopping between your legs. Your fingers mop up the wetness gathered there, swirling around your clit. The action dangles in front of Cassian like a toy. “Look how wet I am for you.”
The poor male is damn near salivating, his eyes almost rolling into the back of his head. He growls, moving your hand out of the way, and he can no longer stop himself from lowering his head to that sweet, dripping pussy he’s spent all morning fantasising about.
He licks right up the centre of you, tongue diving between your folds. At the first lick, you give over to the pleasure, the moans, pressing your hand to the back of Cassian’s head.
“Taste so good, my girl,” his tongue flicks your clit, “all this for me?”
“All of it, Cass. Always.”
“Yeah? You going to come for me?”
“Yes.” A moan escapes you as you tug at the strands of his hair. “Gods, yes.”
“That’s my girl.”
Your head falls back as he simultaneously sucks at your clit and flicks it with his tongue, and you feel fingers sinking between your folds. The sensations Cassian manages to wring from you never lessen in their impact. There’s something about having this brilliant male kneel between your legs and paint you with stunning pleasure. He calls you a goddess, and he treats you like one.
“Fuck,” you breathe, canting your hips up in time with the strokes of his tongue. “Cass…I want you inside me.”
“I want you to come for me first.” Without warning, he pushes a finger into you, and you moan. “You can do that for me, can’t you?”
“Gods—yes,” you’re rocking against his hand, gasping as he adds a second finger. His lips smile against you.
“Go ahead — fuck my fingers and take what you need. Come for me, my girl.”
The two of you work together, him thrusting his fingers and continuing the strokes at your clit, and you taking it all so, so well. And you can tell he loves every moment of your pleasure — the way it builds up in your bones, your veins, and readies itself to implode.
And then your mate curls his fingers deep inside you, and it does exactly that. Release bursts through you at an unstoppable force. The impact of it surges to every corner of your body and has you shaking, gasping, screaming.
Cassian moans as if the climax is his own. He drinks and drinks and drinks, not letting a drop of you go to waste. He takes the clenching of your walls around his fingers and the harsh tugs of his hair. Takes it all, happily.
You’re not sure how long your head is spinning for, but you’re eventually coming down, just in time to see Cassian press a kiss to your belly. You tug his hair again and breathe, “Want you, Cass.”
“My beautiful,” he kisses your belly again, “beautiful mate.” As he pulls back, his hands drag down your thighs. “My goddess.”
He jumps up from the bed, and never have you seen him rid himself of clothes so quickly. Clothed, Cassian is stunning. Naked, he’s breathtaking.
Your eyes study him in utter awe, and you wonder — not for the first time — what you did so right in a previous life to have Cassian as your mate in this one. Every inch of him is firm and honed. Tan skin nicked with scars; bold, beautiful wings; rippling muscles and sharp edges. And his cock—
His cock has you swallowing.
It stands to attention, hard and proud and leaking at the head. Cassian wraps his hand around it and pumps a few times, his eyes still intensely on you. He grits his teeth.
“When you look at me like that,” he says, “you make me feel like a god.”
“You are.” Your chest rises and falls heavily. And you mean it — to you, he is. A god and goddess together.
Stark heat crosses his face, and he jerks his chin in signal. “Come here. I want you on top.”
He’s told you time and time again that having you on top of him is like having his prayers answered. Feeling you rocking on him, riding him, your thighs at his sides…a feeling like nothing else in the world. And you’re more than happy to oblige.
So you’re swapping positions. He’s sprawling back on the bed, wings beneath him, and you hover above him. You’re eager to feel him inside you, but you stop short at the weighty gaze that follows your every move.
You do not balk from it, though. This confidence is a stark difference from the early days of yours and Cassian’s sex life, when you’d do everything to avoid him staring at you for too long, when you’d insist on fucking in the dark. Cassian watches you approach like you’re the last meal he’ll ever get to have. He looks…lost for words.
You reach down, cupping his face between your palms. “You’ll give me an ego.”
“You should have an ego.” He turns his head, kissing your hand. “Fuck me, you’re exquisite.”
With a smile, you’re dipping down and slanting your mouth over his. And as Cassian kisses you back, he takes your hands, gently, slowly pulling you down, until you’re straddling him.
“Did you think about this during training, too?” Your voice shakes as the head of his cock brushes your entrance. “Being inside me? Having me ride you?”
Cassian kisses you so deeply, it leaves you breathless. A loud, wet kiss with his lips moulded to yours, his tongue and your tongue dancing. He pulls away only to tell you, “I think about being inside you, and having you ride me, all the fucking time.”
You smile, reaching behind you to palm at his cock. And a soft groan breaks from him as you pump his length gently. He sinks his teeth into his lower lip, moving his hand down to grab your thighs.
“Put me inside you,” he shudders, his callused thumbs sweeping your skin. “Need to feel your cunt around me.”
You can’t wait any longer, either. You steady his cock at the base, and the second it’s brushing through your soaked folds, you’re both moaning.
And even louder, still, as you sink so, so slowly onto him.
The more his cock slides into you, the harder Cassian grips onto your thighs. He grits his teeth, watching closely as you pause, allow yourself to adjust to his size, and sink down to the hilt.
“Fuck, you feel so good.” His hands smooth upwards, skating over your hips and round to grab at your generous ass. He squeezes, and then he’s lifting you, and you’re moving on his cock.
You could do this forever — have his long, thick length sliding in and out of you. In seconds, you’re slick enough, drenching him enough, to bounce on his length. You roll your hips, bracing your hands on the headboard and throwing your head back at the pleasure that skitters through you. Cassian leans down, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth.
“So full,” you whine, grinding against him faster.
“Yeah?” He breathes. “My cock fills you up nice and good, doesn’t it? I know exactly what this pretty cunt needs.” He lifts you up by your ass, growling, “You want it hard, my goddess?”
“Fuck, Cass, yes.”
“You gonna scream for me? Make sure those lot training on the roof know that I rushed away to fuck my mate like she needed me to?”
“Yes—gods.”
“Scream for me, then.” He grips you hard, and he gives you no choice but to scream.
He slams up into you, again and again, the angle so desperate and deep that your control utterly slips. You can’t pull it back. You can’t grab the upper hand and pin him down to ride him — and you don’t want to. Not as he hits a spot so deep inside you that another climax knocks the breath out of you, and you’re screaming, moaning, clawing.
A deep, smug chuckle breaks through the haze of your orgasm, but Cassian doesn’t falter once. His brow furrows more and more with every thrust. He’s holding you closer to him, burying his face into your neck, and you know he’s not going to last much longer.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he curses, bracing himself, “how do you feel better and better every damn time?”
“Because I’m yours,” you pant, and Cass chokes on a groan, “and you are mine.”
“Always.” His mouth finds yours in a deep, unforgiving kiss, and he doesn’t pull away as his body begins to tremble beneath you, his thrusts faltering and becoming sloppy.
He slumps down, lying your body flush against his, and just like that, he’s on the home stretch.
“Give it to me, Cass,” you watch the pinched pleasure on his face, “I want you to spill inside me.”
Your mate throws his head back, a shout escaping him. His hips still as you feel the explosion of his orgasm deep inside you, painting your walls with his come. Spurt after spurt, it feels never ending, and Cassian groans gutturally through it all. He well and truly fills you up.
He stays inside you for a while after — while you catch your breaths. But when you’ve both calmed a little, he’s pulling back to meet your gaze, and a dazed laugh leaves him. “Fuck, that was good.” He breathes.
“Mmhm.” You smirk, leaning in to kiss him. “Better than your fantasising?”
“My fantasies can be pretty elaborate, but even this brain couldn’t conjure up anything as brilliant as you.” He kisses you back, his hand gently patting your ass. “My delicious little mate.”
You can only smile against his lips. And you’d be content to stay here all day, wrapped up in him, his mouth on yours. But you grin and snake your arms around his neck. “Cass?”
“Yes, my love?”
“You really need a bath.”
He jumps up without a word, your combined wetness spilling down those thighs he loves so much, as he carries you with him to the bathroom.
✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ
cassian tags: @brekkershadowsinger @wandas-dream @nightscourtt @luna-1-3-5 @ruler-of-hades @chocolatecakelargeshake @asemkta @lucyysthings @a-frog-with-a-laptop @iammichellekocwin @illyriansimp @azrielsbabyg @brookeduggann @toohardtoforgetcth @gmey11 @historianscalledusfriends @basicbittywitty @koemi-kimo @sadiebluewin @angelatinasstuff @eos-princess @theunforgivingsworld @lysjeonsworld @aaronwarnerswifereal @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @str4vvberry @lxnoluvr @moron-says-what @korol-lantsov @evabalexeeva @imaginethat16 @aoibhinnslater04 @kennedy-brooke @magnoliamermaid @winchestersister55 @carrxttcake @shannonsaid @ladylunavoodoo13 @glitterforashes @misslunatic1655 @basicbittywitty @bbycowboi @mel-wcst @amieinghigh @acourtofidiots @scooobies @grunchwench @glitterypirateduck @wallacewillow0773638 @jjlevin @siriuslyslyslytherin @supernatural99 @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @loglady00 @bbycowboi @tastydewdrops @waywardcasbutt @justasillylittlegoofyguy @thereadefofsmut @padfootsvixen @donnadiddadog
#cassian#cassian acotar#cassian x reader#batboy x reader#batboy#cassian fic#cassian oneshot#acotar#a court of thorns and roses#acotar x reader#acotar fandom#acotar writing#acotar fanfic#acotar headcanon#acotar smut#acotar series#smut#cassian smut#cassian x reader fic
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take me home, country road
[ao3]
You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (part 9)
first chapter >> last chapter
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If you’d lived any closer to other people, you’d be ashamed of the state that you arrive home in. Both you and John had stumbled out of the river and put on your clothes hastily, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to your wet skin, difficult to put back on without drying off. He hadn’t brought a flannel or towel to dry yourself with after your swim—perhaps thought you’d dry in the sun. Even if there had been one, you can’t imagine you’d have the patience.
You move in quick bursts, pants pulled up your legs, blouse buttoned with trembling fingers, feet straight into your bottoms, your socks stuffed in your pockets. John moves with similar purpose, quick to dress and usher you over to Buttercup with a hand flat on your back, pushing you with the force you remember him using all those weeks ago on your way to the courthouse.
Neither one of you says a word. Words feel far away and clunky. Rough in a way they’ve never felt. Improper too, to turn to your husband under the light of a clear day and whisper, I want you to make love to me. Say to him, I need to be as close to you as physically possible, I need you to soothe this ache in me, in front of God and all of His creatures wandering through the woods.
You wonder if you look as disheveled as you feel.
The ride home passes by in a blur. Perhaps the sunlight catches your eye through the treetops and pries the memory from your head, the passive observer in you usurped by the soft animal of your flesh. It feels John’s strong hand on your hip and purrs. It coaxes you to rub your backside up against him, startled when his fingers tighten around your hip and he holds you there against his erection, groaning softly.
“Keep that up ‘n we won’t make it home, darlin’,” John warns, voice growling in your ear. Your blood sizzles, vision going white.
You feel coltish when he helps you dismount, legs shaking beneath you as you watch him take Buttercup back to the stables. He makes quick work about it, long legs carrying him swiftly from the house to the stables. It’s different observing him now because the thought that rises to the top of your mind now, like the fat on the cream, sweet and plump, is, that’s my husband. My husband is going to deflower me. My husband is going to take me to bed and strip me down to nothing and spread my legs—
The thought evaporates when you notice him shut the stable doors and head back towards you. Again, he walks with such purpose that you can only stare at the movement of his hips.
Time stops when he puts a hand to your cheek and bends low, drawing you into another kiss as deep and languid as the one back in the river. His tongue curls around yours, plying you open until you have no choice but to relinquish everything to him. Your tongue, your docility, your mind. Everything parts to let him inside.
“Look at you,” John murmurs against your lips. “Sweet little thing. Can barely keep yourself upright. Let’s get you to bed.”
He ushers you up the stairs with haste. The staircase feels longer than usual, more of an effort to get up each step. In the bedroom, he locks the door like he did that first night, but this time your heart flutters instead of trembling.
It’s hardly been any time at all since you saw him naked in the river, but the sight of his bronzed flesh and hirsute chest when he strips his shirt off leaves you breathless. He’s the kind of man that you would studiously avoid looking at if you were to pass him on the street. Too strapping of a man to waste your yearning heart on. Too much of a blow if he were to pass his eyes over you and find you wanting.
But to know that he wants you as bad as he does is almost too much as well.
John leans back against the pillows with you cradled in his arms, your pants long since stripped from your legs. Your blouse is still on, but barely, rucked up over the soft swell of your belly. Only a single button holding it in place, even the thread on that button loose and fraying. A hand cups your breast, the other folded over your hand resting on your belly, your fingers threaded together.
“God, you’re just about the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he sighs. Your core tightens at that and he breathes a laugh when he feels the muscle of your stomach flex under his hand. “Could hardly believe it the first time I laid my eyes on you. I was spittin’ mad, left waitin’ and wantin’ all those weeks, but then you walked in and…Christ, I just knew.”
“Knew what?” you ask, ignoring the ache in your chest at the mention of the girl he’d been waiting for.
“Knew I would’ve waited my whole life if it meant I’d get you.”
What does it mean that everything in you quivers at that? On the threshold of breaking. Your husband’s fingers plucking your nipple and then soothing the hurt by swirling his thumb around your areola. He’s worn your resistance down to the quick. You curl the hand on your belly into a fist and his fingers curl with yours.
“Been such a sweet thing for me too,” John says into your ear, dragging his hand from your breast down your stomach and over your hip, curling around the inside of your thigh and pulling it open. He can see everything now, the dewy petals of your sex spreading wide for his perusal, no longer hidden beneath a shift or dress. “Fuck, darlin’…look at that gorgeous little slice of heaven.”
“Oh Lord—” you say, heat crawling up your neck.
John huffs, rubbing his palm up and down your thigh, closer and closer with every stroke. Your sex pulses with each glancing stroke, your breath coming out in ragged pants. “Made me work for it, didn’t ya?”
“I did no—I barely did a thing.”
“Yeah, you did, pretty girl,” he says, dismissing your words, and then his fingers are there, splitting your lips wide, middle finger dragging down the seam like he did on the porch swing all those nights ago. Any rebuttal you might’ve had vanishes in a blink, heart beating staccato. “Could’ve taken it that first night. I wanted to—almost did. But I wanted you sweet and simpering.” He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, beard burning the skin there. “And what are you now, darlin’?”
“S-sweet and simp-simpering,” you whisper, stuttering when his finger glides over your opening and finds you soaked. So slick that his finger sinks right in up to the second knuckle.
Your knee falls open even more.
He smiles against your neck before kissing up to your temple. “That’s right, honey. Knew you had it in you.”
“Oh—it’s…it’s…” you gasp when he gives you another, two fingers plunging into you, shallow pumps that hardly get you where you need to go.
“There we go, darlin’. Ain’t that nice? Need ya to be nice ‘n soft for me—don’t wanna hurt ya.”
He’s far from hurting you, but still your stomach twists up.
“I need—I need—p-please, John, give it to me.”
“And wha’s that?” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Give you what, honey?”
You’re tempted to grab his hand and bring his fingers up to your clit, but you can’t quite muster up the nerve. Instead you huff, brows puckering in frustration. You try to draw your knees up to your chest and gasp when he pulls his fingers out of you and wrenches your knee back down to the mattress, pinning it there.
“None of that,” John scolds, his wet fingers curling around the inside of your knee. “You have to ask for things, darlin’. Use your words.”
Your core clenches at his words. The little bit of stretching that he did leaves you feeling empty without his fingers, slickness dripping down the inside of your thighs.
“I need to…” you say, thoughts slipping from you. All you want is for John to plunge his fingers back into your sex and take you to your peak, but the words get lost as they travel down your tongue. “It’s not enough.”
“Just my fingers, you mean?” The same ones he digs into your leg until the flesh bulges around his fingers.
“No,” you whine. You try to drag the hand intertwined with his on your belly down to your sex, but he resists, keeping your hand pinned in place. He holds firm when you struggle, chuckling at the whine that slips past your lips.
“Poor girl. Needy little thing, aren’t ya? Not stretched enough yet though, darlin’—I’m a lot bigger than a couple fingers.” You choke at that, scandalized. “I’ll give your clit a little lovin’ though.”
He takes his hand off your knee and brings it up so he can spit in his hand. You flinch when you hear the glob of spit hit his palm, and then his hand is back between your legs, wet palm grinding into your sensitive button when his fingers push back into your hole. Single-minded now, trying to coax your orgasm out of you. Forcing a third finger into your hole and shushing you dismissively when you howl and try to squirm away.
The voice in your head demeaning you for acting so lewd is drowned out by your own cries when you come on John’s fingers. It disappears entirely when John kisses your temple and thanks you for giving him your release. Like it’s a gift you’ve given him.
Your hands flutter over his shoulders when he gets you on your back and fits his hands into the creases of your knees to guide your thighs open. He must like what he sees because his eyelids droop when he stares down at the slick folds between your legs, heavy with lust.
“Lord, that’s pretty,” John says, petting your clit with his thumb and smiling when you squirm.
You breathe in quick, shallow breaths, hopelessly beyond composing yourself. Perhaps once or twice you might have allowed yourself to imagine what it might be like to lie with a man. You’ve heard other women giggle amongst themselves about it, about men going cross-eyed, rubicund cheeked, heaving bellies and thighs slapping against the girl’s rear—a handful of thrusts and then finally some peace and quiet when he passed out on the other side of the bed.
You’re familiar with the mechanics, if only in theory. The expectation of disappointment; that you’d only have to grin and bear it. Think of England.
John, of course, does not conform to those expectations.
“You take my hand, darlin’,” he murmurs, taking your hand in his and pressing it down to the bed. “Give me a squeeze if it’s too much.”
Your mouth is too dry, mind too scattered to form a response. All you can do is stare up at him.
“Hey.” With his other hand, he gives you a light tap on the cheek. It doesn’t even sting, but it makes you blink. “You still with me?”
“Yes,” you answer, nodding. Your heart jumps when he reaches down to take his shaft in hand and notch the head against your sopping entrance.
Everything collapses down to the feeling of him pressing forward, an insistent siege that doesn’t let up because when you squeeze his hand reflexively, it comes with a, yes, yes, please, falling unbidden from your lips. It feels foreign at first, bigger than the fingers he pressed into you before. Claustrophobic, suffocating. With his arms braced on either side of your head, John eclipses everything else from view.
When it gets too much, you squeeze his hand and dig your nails in, hissing at the stretch. It hurts, and the more you tense, the tighter you get. John winces when you clench around him.
“Easy does it,” he says, squeezing your hand back. He dips his head to drop a soft kiss on your lips, coaxing them open. When you think of the men that languish in opium dens, you imagine that it must feel something like John Price’s tongue licking into your mouth.
“It hurts,” you mumble when he pulls away.
“I know, honey. Being so brave for me though.” You whine when he sinks in another inch, flexing your toes up in the air. “My brave girl—that’s it…just a lil more, darlin’.”
“There’s more?” you blurt out, and he laughs, the sound coursing through you, shaking you with him.
Effervescent bubbling joy swells in your chest, so crystal clear for a moment. The man above you almost glows, so radiant that you reach a hand up to cup his face, entranced.
There’s nothing like him in the world. No one else like him. Steel underneath silk, the very roughness and essence of man that you’ve always known tempered by a softness that makes you physically ache. And in spite of self-doubt and common sense, he looks down at you with the same reverence. Knowing nothing about you. Knowing only something essential about you, the part divested of history, past or future. Whoever you are at your core, he wants it. He’s taken it as his own.
Then he pushes that last inch into your cunt and you go breathless.
“There we go, darlin’,” John grits out, and you can see the sweat beading on his temples now. “Good fuckin’ girl, takin’ all of that.”
Your hand feels clammy in his, a thin layer of sweat building on the nape of your neck and along your back as well. He helps you cinch your legs around his waist more comfortably, and you lock your ankles at the small of his back, but still it feels too much. Stretched to your limits. You can hardly swallow, never mind open your mouth to speak.
John praises you the whole time in hushed whispers, squeezing your hand in his and petting your face with the other. Fingers slide past your cheek and tangle in your hair, a thumb tracing the shell of your ear. He drops wet, sucking kisses down your neck and over your clavicle, licking up the hollow of your throat. Your skin must taste salty with sweat, but still he lavishes you with kisses.
“Can you take a bit more, darlin’?” he asks. “Still hurt?”
“It—it’s tight,” you rasp, wiggling your hips. You’re hardly able to move though, pinned in place by his bulk.
“C’mon, arms around me,” he tells you, waiting until your hands are tangled together behind his neck. “We’ll take it real slow, okay?”
You squeak with the first thrust, not expecting the feeling of his cock pulling out of you before pushing back in. He rocks into you slowly though, letting you grow used to the feeling of him inside you. His eyes don’t leave yours the whole time. Dark blue warmed by the sunlight.
My husband’s inside me, you think, a bit hysterically. The same man that you thought might lock you up and throw away the keys now has you on your back in his bed—your bed—making a space for himself in your body.
The discomfort takes most of the pleasure away at first. All you can focus on is the way your flesh has to stretch to accommodate him with every thrust, the breath forced out of you. Lips screwed up, teeth digging into your bottom lip painfully to hold back the soft grunts building up in your chest.
“You alright?” John asks in a pulverized voice. You’ve never heard him quite like that.
You squeeze your eyes shut. “I’m f-fine.”
You don’t sound fine. The sound he lets out lets you know what he thinks of your response. He takes greater care for a time after that, each stroke deliberate, a slow, smooth glide. You feel ragdoll-like in his arms, like a poppet for him to play with; a well-cared for thing. A treasured thing that he rocks into and peppers with kisses, across your eyelids and forehead.
The bedroom echoes with the sound of your panting breaths and John’s deep, guttural groans every time he sinks into your sex, the lewd, wet squelch of your cunt growing louder as his hips pick up speed. You can see the second you lose him when his eyes go flinty, staring past you. His hands fist into the bedsheets, knuckles going white.
“Jesus—” he grunts, driving into you hard enough to send you shuttling up the bed. You squeal at that, digging your nails into his back. “Yeah, hold me like that, honey.”
Your breasts bounce with every thrust. John’s eyes flit between them and your eyes before snapping back up to meet your gaze, barely tearing his eyes away long enough to blink.
Your skin feels hot, tight. Worse when he finally takes your nipple into his mouth like back in the river and suckles. Crude, wet sounds fill the air; sucks that turn sloppy. He kisses between your breasts before latching on to your other nipple.
He murmurs praises into your skin, breath going choppy. Little susurrations. My wife. Brave, pretty girl. Taking it so well. Tiny little thing.
When a couple tears leak down your cheek and it starts to build beneath your skin, hot tongues of fire licking up in you, John’s lips pull into a flat line. He can smell it on you. See it in the way your eyes lose focus, glossy and wet. He grabs your face with one hand, pinching until your lips purse.
“Look at me when you come,” John growls, fingers digging into your cheeks and forcing you to meet his gaze. “You look at your husband when he makes you come.”
You couldn’t look away even if you wanted to. His fingers pinch where they hold your cheeks. This close to his end, his strength gets away from him; you can feel the attempt to be gentle, but it gets lost in his frenzied need to pump his spend into your belly. His biceps bulge beside your head, a vein near his temple throbbing.
“You w-won’t let me go? You won’t leave me?” you ask desperately. You don't know why you need to hear him say it, but you’re afraid you’ll die without it.
“Mine until the end of fuckin’ time, you hear me?” He pinches your cheeks until your mouth falls open, then leans down to lick into your mouth. “You’re gonna let me put a baby in you, wife, and you’re never gonna fuckin’ leave me.”
You come when his mouth brushes over yours, the intimacy overwhelming. Your thighs tighten around his waist, trying to get as close to him as possible, nails raking down his back. If you could climb into his skin, you would.
John reaches his peak noisily, his thick spend filling your cunt and his tongue filling your mouth. You can feel it inside of you, spurting against your womb, and even the thought of that makes you shiver. He made a house for a wife and children, and he has the former now. Only the latter is missing.
His hands and mouth are everywhere on you. Petting along your flank, stroking down your side. Sucking softly at your lower lip while he pumps the last of his essence into you. You feel wrung dry, every limb aching and sore. It’ll be worse come morning. For now, exhaustion settles over you like a blanket.
When he pulls out, you can’t help the sound that comes out of you, like a sob trapped in your chest.
“Oh Lord, I’m a mess,” you whisper, leaning up on your elbows and glancing down between your legs with morbid curiosity.
Embarrassment at the sight of John’s come leaking onto the bed sheets nearly makes you curl up into a ball. It’s filmy and sticky when you try to gather it up with your fingers. You wipe it on the bed sheets when you realize that now you just have a mess on your hands.
The mattress squeaks under his weight when he gets off, wet, flaccid cock swinging between his legs. Again, you can’t help but stare despite the way your stomach twists.
“Sit up,” he orders, and you do without thinking. “Can’t go to bed like this.”
John washes you with a warm cloth, dunking it in the porcelain basin on the bedside table whenever it gets too cold. You’d protest the gentle treatment, but it’s nice to be waited on for a change. You can see why some would grow used to it. The only time you lose your cool is when he drags the washcloth gently between your legs.
“You could just give me the cloth,” you snip, horribly embarrassed. “I’ve washed myself once or twice, you know.”
For all your spitting and hissing, he only laughs.
He takes care of the wet spot beneath you as well, lifting you up and sitting you down on the wooden chair before changing the sheets.
“I can—I can wash those in the morning,” you chime from the chair in the corner of the room, ankles crossing and uncrossing nervously. You wince when you feel a glob of his spend drip out of you.
John’s mustache twitches with a barely contained smile. “We’ll worry about that in the morning, bug.”
It’s hard to just let things go. Two weeks in his care can barely begin to equate to the decade plus you spent fending for yourself. There are still days you spend looking over your shoulder, waiting for your past to catch up with you. Waiting for this life to evaporate like smoke. You can’t relinquish all of your control just yet, not when that possibility still looms on the horizon. No matter how much you want.
You don’t think he knows what’s doing. Not truly.
John can’t know what he’s become to you. That he is fixed, that he is binding you to a present that you never saw as sure. It wavers in front of you like the fickle light of a candle, and suspended above it, you stare at the douter, waiting for it to come down and snuff the flame out.
#ceil writing#cod mw2#cod x reader#price x reader#price x you#price/reader#john price x reader#john price/reader#captain john price
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Mean Simon Part 4
CW: non-descriptive panic attack, followed by comfort and gaslighting; please be safe and careful 💕
Simon’s got a bit of a puzzle on his hands. More accurately, you’re a puzzle that’s not in his hands. And getting you there, of your own free will, is only part of it.
Sure, he could just grab you or order you. You would be helpless to his will either way. It would be simple and easy, but it wouldn’t be satisfying. Not as much as coaxing you into the trap by your own volition, anyway.
Once you were just a shy thing, now you’re downright skittish. Quick to bend the knee and bow your head, but you don’t relish in doing so. Johnny has been nothing but adoring and sweet to you, yet Simon notices you still resist flinching and tensing on contact. Never mind if Simon himself were to attempt the same, you’d work yourself into hysteria over a pat to the shoulder. Seducing you would be its own challenge - but that leaves the contradictory matter of training you.
You would be so good. He knows it.
You’re quick to learn, eager to please. But it comes from a place of fear and distrust. The former has its place, the latter its natural offspring - but neither suits Simon’s purpose in this instance. Punishment and discipline would only serve to reinforce the trenches in your mind. To stay quiet and unseen, to avoid Simon at all costs and tolerate Johnny out of self-preservation. That neither of them can be trusted, are not objects for your affection or desire. Only a facsimile with a pretty face, that makes pretty noises, and soothes Johnny with pretty touches. Nothing real; nothing either of them can actually sink their teeth into.
And so there lies the puzzle. He needs (wants) to train you into the sweet doll he knows you can be, but he has to do it in a way fundamentally different to his instinct - or he risks breaking you entirely.
Luckily, he’s a patient man. Your behavior has been acceptable so far with the barest monitoring. He has time to develop a strategy.
“Um… excuse me, Mister?” you soft voice calls.
He grunts, turning his eyes to you. You shift, fingers twisting together tightly.
“I can’t, um… so there’s a light out? In the kitchen?”
He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.
“And I don’t know where the bulbs are,” you finish.
He tilts his head. “You didn’t go looking?”
You shake out your hands a bit, shifting. “I didn’t know if I, um, if I should? Snooping, and all…”
Simon tries to recall if he’s ever implied that you shouldn’t go through the house. He knows he explicitly warned you not to go in his bedroom and the garage. But you’ve inferred it somehow, likely from those first few months after he got you for Johnny - when he would have had some objection to you treating the house as if it were your own.
You’re well past that by now, though. Spend more time here than either of them, cleaning and cooking and sleeping. In fact, he’s surprised you haven’t stumbled across the bulbs sooner.
“Hall closet by my room.”
You hesitate for another moment. “And is there, um… a step stool anywhere…?”
He blinks. “No.”
“Oh. Uhh…” you jolt a bit. “Oh! I’ll just use a dining chair. Thank you! Um, sir.”
You dart away before he can reply. That’s going to be the first bad habit he breaks, he decides.
For lack of sating himself with you, Johnny’s been especially needy. Simon accounted for this, of course, and despite it being a punishment, he’s not so cruel as to leave Johnny hanging. It’s meant to be a learning experience too.
So Johnny is still allowed to cuddle with you (to some extent) and exchange kisses (in moderation) while Simon takes the edge off the ever-burning inferno that is his libido. Sniper he may be, Simon might have miscalculated regardless. He’s already touched-out for the day.
You’re in the kitchen, prepping for a nicer dinner at Simon’s request before their next deployment. It’ll take a couple hours to cook, so you’re assembling everything early. Or at least trying to - because Johnny will not leave you the fuck alone.
He’s underfoot, making a nuisance of himself. Kissing at your neck and face, wrapping himself around you while you bustle about, stealing ingredients off of cutting boards, talking in your ear nonstop. Most days you wouldn’t mind - or would appear that way, at least. But today is not most days.
Simon is sitting on a stool on the other side of the counter when you reach capacity.
With Johnny still plastered to your back, you try to reach for something (for the umpteenth time) and trip over his feet. You knock over an open carton of stock, splattering translucent brown all over the floors, counters, cabinets, and yourselves.
“Fuck,” you cry, “Johnny.”
Your voice breaks on his name. Johnny freezes. Simon can see fault lines in every inch of your stiff body. How carefully you manage each movement as you disentangle yourself from Johnny and usher him away from the worst of the mess. You’re about to fall apart.
“Och, I’m sorry, hen. Lemme help—“
“It’s alright,” you interrupt, chin low as you pivot, snagging the paper towels off the counter. “I’ve got it. Just… stay there.”
Johnny opens his mouth to protest, about to help anyway, but Simon tuts in disapproval.
The kitchen is smothered in an awful silence as you clean, Johnny growing more shame-faced with each rip of the towel roll.
Unobstructed, you manage to clean up in only a couple of minutes, making an extra pass with a damp towel to wipe up any residue. When you’re finished, you wet another and offer it to Johnny to wipe off. Then do the same for yourself. Always, you keep your face obscured or hidden, body oriented away, tight and rigid.
When you spin to gather up the dirty towels, Simon sees how your eyes glimmer. You remember he’s there too at the same time.
“Sir, I’m so sorry. I d-don’t, um…” you have to take a breath to gather your voice. “There’s not enough for dinner now.”
Simon considers that for a beat.
“Johnny’ll run out ‘n get more.”
You swallow thickly. “Okay. I’m sorry, sir.”
“‘S not your fault. Kitchen only needed one cook, yeah?”
You make a noise that, if he was hard of hearing and listening through earmuffs, could almost be agreement.
“I-I’m gonna go wash off…” you rub your hands together nervously. “If that’s alright.”
“G’on.”
You’re gone in an instant. Simon can already hear you sniffling. He stands.
Johnny turns huge, pathetic eyes on him.
“‘M sorry, Si. Really, I didn’t mean to—“
“But you did,” Simon interrupts sharply. “Because you were being a rude little shit and playing too rough.”
Johnny gulps, looks a bit misty-eyed himself. Simon sighs and scrubs an exasperated hand through his mohawk.
“Go get the stock,” he orders, milder. “And an extra treat for the sweetie. Something actually for her. Understood?”
Johnny always does better with clear instructions. He perks up at being given a mission - and an avenue for making things up to you. He hurries off with a pep in his step.
Simon waits until the door is shut before seeking you out. You’re in the bathroom, as you said you would be. He can hear you muffling cries behind the door.
He taps his knuckles twice against the wood. It goes dead silent.
“Jus’ me,” he calls.
There’s a quick splash of water, the flutter of fabric, and then you crack the door open. Your face is cry-flushed, eyes red-rimmed and still glossy. You can’t look past his chest, mouth curved down.
“I-I’m really sorry about the-the mess, and dinner, and…”
“Stop apologizing,” he says, gentling his voice to take the edge off the command. “If there was something to be sorry for, you’d know.”
You swipe quickly at a tear that squeezes out. He tsks softly.
“Bit strung out today, eh?”
“Just… didn’t sleep well, is all,” you answer. “And I didn’t get a chance to nap.”
Right, he’s noted that, in the back of his mind. That you spend small portions of the day sleeping. Usually an hour or two at a time. But Johnny’s been so high maintenance today that you’ve hardly had a moment of peace.
“Cranky? Is that it?” he asks.
You look more miserable. “Just tired,” you answer.
He hums. Willing to bet it’s more than just a bad night of sleep. Poor thing.
“Sor - I mean… I know I’m not supposed to…” you rub at your eyes, drooping.
He tilts his head. “Not s’posed to what?”
“Cry or-or be annoying or…”
He coos. “You’ve got all these rules for yourself, don’t you?”
You sniffle again, hugging yourself tightly as you shrug.
The hunter in Simon perks. There.
“Look’it.” He takes your chin between thumb and forefinger, guiding your gaze up to his.
You blink slowly, heavily, wet lashes sticking together.
“What sort of terrible world have you built up in your mind, hm?” he soothes. “Never told you not to do any of that, did I?”
You blink, confused and upset.
“N-no, I guess… not.”
“No,” he confirms. “You’re spun up so tight you’re starting to fray, little one.”
You shudder, swaying into him a bit. He used the movement to slide his hand to your jaw, massaging his thumb into the tight muscle by your ear.
“From now on, you only follow the rules I give you, yeah?” he says, low and quiet. “Dunno why you think I’m so mean. I won’t punish you if you don’t know better.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, as if trying to resist the hypnotic lull of letting someone else think for you. But you still lean into his palm.
“How’s this,” he offers, “if you’re ever unsure, you ask me. Wont get mad at you for asking. Yeah?”
And finally, that wire twisted up between your shoulder blades loosens.
“Yes, sir.”
Johnny comes home with a chocolate cupcake. Simon approves it before sending him to you, decompressing on the couch with a cuppa.
You blink as Johnny drops heavily to his knees, placing the packaged cupcake in your hand.
“Lass, I’m sorry for bein’ so rough,” he begins, bowing his forehead to your knees. “Dinnae mean to, but I still upset ye, interrupted dinner when ye were workin’ so hard.” He tilts his face up, hitting you with the full force of his apologetic blue eyes. “Forgive me?”
You mouth parts, genuine shock washing over your features. “Y-yeah, Johnny, of course. I know you didn’t mean to. I was just having a bad day.”
But that doesn’t mollify him.
“I couldnae tell. You were just… goin’ on as usual.”
“I know. It’s okay.”
You set your tea aside to place your hand over his, trying to reassure him. But Simon knows his pup and you’ve just unwittingly put a thorn in his paw.
“I’ll get back to dinner now.” You lean in, drop a kiss to Johnny’s furrowed brow. “Thank you for apologizing. And the cupcake.”
Johnny stands with you. “At least let me help proper this time?”
You smile, though it’s tinged with exhaustion. “Sure. C’mon.”
Simon takes his place at the counter again and keeps a careful eye on you both. Things are a lot smoother this time round. Johnny follows your quiet instructions, happy to be useful. You seem to settle with dinner plans back on track.
Once everything is set to slow cook, Simon herds you and Johnny back to the den.
“Pick a movie, lamb.”
You blink from the corner of the couch you’ve curled up in. “Me?”
“You.”
You seem so surprised that you just blurt out a title. Simon hums and queues it up while Johnny all but interrogates you for the plot. As the opening scenes flicker across the screen, you snuggle in further, even tugging a blanket off the back of the couch to bundle up on.
Johnny shoots you a longing look - you’re too engrossed in the movie - so Simon snags him by the back of the neck and tucks him into his side.
You fall asleep two-thirds of the way through, but Simon lets you. Likes watching you breathe, face soft and smooth. Can’t for the life of him even recall what’s on the telly.
That night, after a quiet (but peaceful) dinner, and everyone’s showers, Simon ushers Johnny to the room he usually shares with you. Hope flickers across the pup’s face, confusion and trepidation across yours.
“In the middle, Johnny,” Simon rumbles. “The little one by the window.”
You and Johnny comply, cuddling in. Simon takes the side closest to the door, grunting a bit when Johnny instantly clings on.
“Is this the new arrangement?” Johnny asks eagerly.
“Go to sleep,” Simon answers.
He grumbles, but settles in. On the other side of the bed, there’s a bit of shuffling. Then your voice whispering, “Good night.”
#cod#my writing#fanfiction#reader fic#dark fic#mean simon ghost riley#mean simon#john soap mctavish x reader#simon ghost riley x john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley x reader#ghoap x reader#panic attack#tw gaslighting
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Hi love, if you're up to it could you write about bf Sirius teasing reader about something, and it actually hurts her feelings quite a lot? maybe she's always thought she's to shy for him, and he teases her about being quiet and it just hurts so much that he sees her just like everyone else does? like she thought he understood her, but instead he's teasing her about something she's rlly insecure abt ?
Thanks for requesting lovely!
cw: reader has leg hair
Sirius Black x shy!reader ♡ 1.2k words
You hear Sirius’ ruckus before he’s anywhere near you. Down the hall, shouting and laughter, and then your boyfriend’s voice: “Yeah, I’m on the lookout for my bird. She likes to hide herself away, let me know if you see her?”
Your face warms, humiliation a prickly, unpleasant thing beneath your skin. The kinder part of you thinks for a second to stick your head out into the hallway so he can stop looking for you, but you can’t bring yourself to do it. A few seconds more, and it doesn’t matter. Sirius twists the handle of the door to your refuge, his amused gray eyes finding you in an instant.
“Hey there, sweetness.” His voice is smooth and easy. He closes the door behind him, settling down across from you on the carpeted floor like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Lily told me you went to go get another drink, but I think you might’ve gotten turned around. The kitchen’s just down the hall.”
“Took a wrong turn,” you say sheepishly. Sirius only smiles.
“My shy girl,” he croons, reaching forward and brushing his thumb over the soft hairs just below your kneecap. “If you were nervous, you could’ve just come and found me, sweet thing. I told you where I’d be.”
He had, but you couldn’t have gone to him. You already feel like such a child.
Sirius had been obviously thrilled with how well you were getting on with his friends tonight. It wasn’t like you hadn’t met them before, but this time Sirius had intentionally maneuvered you so you’d sat closest to Lily and Remus, the least obtrusive of his lot, and it had been going well. You’d been contributing to the conversation more than you were used to, encouraged by Lily and Remus’ gentle friendliness and your boyfriend’s pleased looks. After a while, James had cajoled the majority of the group into playing beer pong in the other room. Remus had stood to go, and Sirius with him, pulling his hand from yours and checking you’d be okay if he left you with Lily.
The way he’d asked it, “Think you can manage on your own for a bit, gorgeous?” all light and teasing and infused with laughter, you’d had no choice but to say yes. Even if you suddenly didn’t feel very confident you could manage, and in the end, you didn’t.
You’d let Sirius’ silly, thoughtless question get to you. Lily hadn’t even seemed to notice what he’d said, but your face had burned all the way to the tips of your ears, and all her kind, patient attempts at conversation were wasted on you. You forgot what you were going to say, stumbled over your words, apologized and awkward-laughed until you’d finally said you were going for another drink and not come back. You’d found this, a guest bedroom as far as you can tell, and hunkered down. You really hope she hasn’t taken it personally.
“I didn’t want to bother you,” you tell Sirius now, your voice so soft it’s a miracle he hears. Outside of your sanctuary, the music turns up and shouting begins, the lyrics to a song everyone knows but you.
“You could never bother me,” he promises. He’s lowered his volume to match yours. “I know how you get.”
Shame burns hot and painful behind your eyes. “It’s not—” your voice catches, and Sirius’ thumb stills on your knee. You try again. “It’s not something I do on purpose.”
“Hey, I know.” He scoots closer to you, setting his hands on your tented knees and propping his chin atop them so he’s looking at your face with just a few inches between you. His eyebrows are furrowed. “I know, sweetness. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, you know? Just that I don’t mind taking care of you when you’re feeling nervous or anything like that. You can always come find me.”
It’s hard to avoid Sirius’ gaze when he’s this close, but you manage, looking down at the carpet past your thigh. “It felt a little bit like you minded when you left to go with James and Remus,” you say quietly.
He tilts his head, steadfast in his eye contact even if you won’t reciprocate. It feels like he’s taking an inventory of your reactions as they flit across your face. You wish you were better at hiding them from him. “That upset you?” he asks, genuinely curious. “You wanted me to stay?”
“No,” you say. “Well, yes, but that’s not…it didn’t upset me. You shouldn’t need to stay with me all of the time.”
“I don’t mind,” Sirius interjects.
You look up, and he rewards you with a half-happy uptilt of his lips. His expression is kind and open now, not a lick of teasing about him.
“I don’t need you to stay with me,” you clarify. “It was just the way you asked. It made it sound like I can’t manage without you.”
“Oh.” Sirius’ brows twitch together, recalling. One of his pinkies starts to stroke absentmindedly up and down on your thigh. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Did I embarrass you?”
“A little,” you whisper, shoulders hunching as your body tries to shrink away from him. “But it’s more that I didn’t realize you thought that.”
“I don’t,” he says quickly, voice soft but ardent. “I really don’t, honestly. It was a joke, I was just…I was being stupid. I shouldn’t have made light of it. I know you’re fine on your own, angel, that was just my dumb way of trying to ask if you wanted me to stay and trying to keep it light. I wasn’t trying to tease you.”
You tug on your bottom lip with your teeth. “It’s okay if you meant it,” you say.
“I didn’t,” Sirius promises. “Really, I swear. Can I—can I touch you? Say no if you don’t want it.”
“You’re already touching me.” Some amusement makes its way into your tone. Sirius smiles, but doesn’t move until you say, “Yeah, you can.”
His hands plant themselves on either side of your face, and then he’s jamming your knees apart with his torso, stamping his lips to your face.
“M’sorry, my sweet girl,” he mumbles, mushing the words into the side of your nose. “I was being a prat, and I’m sorry. I can’t believe I made you feel bad.”
“It’s okay,” you reassure him, smiling now. Your face is still burning hot, but the cause of that warmth is growing murky.
“No, it wasn’t nice to make fun.” He pulls back, fondness mingling with solemnity in his gray irises. “I didn’t realize it’d come off that way, but I won’t do it again, I mean it.”
“Thanks,” you reply just as sincerely. “I’m okay now, really.”
“Yeah?” He kisses between your brows. “Okay enough to go back out there, or do you wanna go home?”
You think on this for a minute. “I should probably talk to Lily for a bit before leaving. I feel bad for abandoning her.”
“She’s alright, gorgeous,” Sirius reassures you, but offers you his hands. You take them, and he hoists you up. “We’ll grab you a drink on the way, say you got sidetracked. I mean, that’s basically what happened.”
You roll your eyes, leaning into his side as he starts for the kitchen.
#sirius black#shy!reader#sirius black x shy!reader#sirius black x reader#sirius black x fem!reader#sirius black x y/n#sirius black x you#sirius black x self insert#sirius black fanfiction#sirius black fanfic#sirius black fic#sirius black angst#sirius black hurt/comfort#sirius black imagine#sirius black drabble#sirius black scenario#sirius black blurb#sirius black oneshot#sirius black one shot#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#marauders era#hp marauders#marauders x reader
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bf!leon kennedy
—ID!leon kennedy x soft!croquette reader, a headcanon list
masterlist taglist
an: i cannot be controlled anymore. i promised i’d make it a series and im delivering slowly but surely. have faith in me lol, im doing my best to get requests out. i have them closed currently just so i can catch up and write them all in a timely manner. enjoy ID!bf leon kennedy in the mean time.
bf!leon kennedy who is getting too old for the soft cream sheets on your bed, he wants to just rip them off and demand something more mature. but he knows you wouldn’t like that. you practically yell at him anytime he tosses one of your stuffed animals too hard off the bed.
bf!leon kennedy who takes you out to dinner, makes sure your happy. he knows he’s not around as much as he should be so he takes the time when he can to treat you special. your his girl, he needs to.
bf!leon kennedy who makes sure your sleeping constantly when your next to him, even when he wakes up from nightmares. your scent of jasmine and laundry detergent makes him at ease, proves that everything is real and he’s really here with you.
bf!leon kennedy who lets you pack him notes in his lunch when he heads to the agency everyday. your cursive hand writing is sloppy but adorable, always writing for him to have a good day and that you love him. he’s just happy he has you to remind him when things get hard.
bf!leon kennedy who lets you press kisses all over him and hug him to death whenever he comes home unscathed from a mission or just a regular day at the agency. he loves when you show your love for him, always making him feel special and good. like all the things he had endured at this point have been worth it.
bf!leon kennedy who takes you shopping on his days off, not happy he has to stand around and hold your bags. but when you try your cute little skirts and dresses on, it makes it a tiny bit worth it. you would look pretty in a paper bag and he would still look at you all the same.
bf!leon kennedy who has your morning and nighttime skincare routine down, he watches you do it every morning and every night, never knowing that so many pieces came with you looking so pretty and gorgeous for him. but anything to make you happy, even if you don’t need all that to be beautiful in his eyes.
bf!leon kennedy who watches you organize your books on your bookshelf, clean up your shared space of your guys shared bedroom. all your little knickknacks and jewelry and frilly clothes. he doesn’t know how you do it, or why you like such a mundane looking room, but if it pleases you, it’s fine with him.
bf!leon kennedy who lets you crawl on-top of him in the early hours of the morning before he goes to work and press kisses everywhere. your lips pressing across his jaw, his cheeks, his neck and his lips. any place your pretty little self can reach, he’s letting you do it. you waking him up like this is another reason why his heart is so enamored with you in the first place.
bf!leon kennedy who helps you when you need to wash all your stuffed animals and sheets, helping you with chores. he likes being domestic with you, it makes him feel like he’s normal, like this is a normal life. like this matters, like his life has purpose with you.
bf!leon kennedy who drives you to the park or to the plant nursery so you can be around nature. he loves how you admire each plant anytime your out like this, the way you care for such things. it makes him happy to see you enjoying such a small part of life, gives him hope.
bf!leon kennedy who celebrates your guys three year anniversary, buying you anything and everything you want. taking you out all day. he cooks for you and makes your favorite dish, he buys you pink roses. he lets you dress in your dress and be all pretty for him.
bf!leon kennedy who eats with you, talking with you like he normally did everyday. but this time it’s different and leon is going to prove just how much he loves you. he slides a box out and watches your face change. you open the box and feel your eyes water when you see a diamond engagement ring.
bf!leon kennedy who watches as you nod rapidly, pretty tears and say yes over and over again. he slips it on your finger and smiles softly at you, watching as you practically hop over the table and hug and kiss him like your life depends on it. you smother him and kisses, tangling your sweet mouth with his.
bf!leon kennedy, who is very proud to not call himself your boyfriend anymore. but your fiancé and he’s proud of that title. of making you so happy and obligating to do that every single day for the rest of his life. he wants you everyday, every night and everywhere in between. he’s found his safe haven in this world, and it’s you. it always will be.
an: thank you for reading, reposting and likes are greatly appreciated. i’m trying to keep my posting schedule up and should have requests open when i’m finished with all the ones in my drafts. thank you guys for being patient with me. i love you all, kisses. xx
#leon kennedy#leon x reader#re2 leon#re4 remake#leon kennedy au#leon kennedy x you#re2 remake#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy fic#leon kennedy imagine#leon kennedy fanfic#leon kennedy re2#id leon kennedy#re4 leon#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy drabble#leon kennedy headcanons#croquette#croquette reader
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Hey sweetheart! You take requests at the moment? I'm currently healing from surgery (ow) and I just want some fluffy Eddie fussing over me/reader
One fluffy blurb, coming right up! I hope you get well soon 🥰
Warnings: Reader is recovering from surgery, mention of prescribed medication, mention of spicy activities, Eddie is a big ol' mush of a boyfriend
WC: 750
--
The sound of a handbell clanging has Eddie up from the sofa in a heartbeat. He’s learned your communication system over the last few days: one ring means you want some company, two means you’re hungry or need to use the bathroom, and three indicates an emergency.
This was a three-ring.
“Sweetheart?” There’s no camouflaging the alarm in his voice as he pushes into the bedroom. He finds you propped up against the pillows, book in hand. “What’s the matter? Are you dizzy again?”
You shake your head. “Could you get me a snack?” The doctor advised against taking the pain medication on an empty stomach, and you had no intention of breaking that rule. “Maybe some pretzels? Or a slice of toast with jelly?”
Eddie’s shoulders sag with relief. “You rang the bell three times,” he explains, soft irritation clipping his words. “I thought something was wrong.”
Glancing at the bell tucked against your thigh, you frown. “No, I only rang it twice. Or, wait…shit, I did ring it three times.” You exhale, sliding your bookmark between the pages and offering an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”
“S’okay.” He plops down onto the bed, careful not to jostle your elevated leg. “Just…give me a sec to get my heartrate back down to normal.” Hand to his chest, he takes deep, exaggerated breaths that have you giggling.
“I mean, I could find something urgent,” you tease. “Maybe I’ll try walking without the crutches, or I can take out my stitches…”
Eddie’s nose wrinkles in a combination of disbelief and disgust. “Bullshit,” he counters.
“Bullshit?”
“Bull. Shit.” He grins, gently poking your bicep. “You got all queasy that time you had to pull out a splinter, and you expect me to believe you can remove your own stitches?”
You let out a defeated groan. “Ugh, fine.” He knows you too well, and you love him for it.
He gives you a triumphant kiss on the cheek and starts towards the kitchen. “Anything else the fair maiden needs while I’m up? More water? Ginger ale? Perhaps some champagne and caviar?” His eyes light up mischievously at the last suggestion.
“I’m not supposed to drink on these meds,” you quip, playing right into his charade.
“We’ll take a raincheck on the champagne, then.”
You shift back slightly, wincing as pain shoots through your leg. The surgery hurt more than the injury, and part of you wishes you had just muddled through and hobbled around instead of getting it fixed.
Eddie returns a few minutes later with toast that’s just the right shade of burnt and slathered in strawberry jelly. He has a glass of water in his other hand, though you hadn’t asked for any.
He places both on the snack table he’s set up next to the bed before reaching over and grabbing the bell. He rings it one time, loud and purposeful.
“Can I help you?”
Nodding, he sits down. “I’m bored and need someone to talk to.” He rests his head on his pillow and pouts. “Entertain me?”
“There’s not much going on here.” You shrug, scanning the room for a conversation topic. He’s been taking care of you nonstop, and surgery recovery doesn’t exactly make for riveting discussions. Your eyes land on a magazine. “I read some interesting articles in Cosmo, I guess.”
“Oh, yeah?” Eddie waggles his brows. “Anything spicy?”
You flip to an article that provides explicit details on giving the perfect blowjob and point to the page. “This one was pretty raunchy.”
He studies it just long enough to read the headline before tossing it aside. “You don’t need any help with that. Trust me.” He smirks knowingly. “You probably could’ve written that article yourself.”
“Good to know.” Exhaling, you look over at him. “You can go hang out with the guys if you want. Or they can come over here, as long as they’re not too loud.”
You expect him to jump at the offer; anything to cure his bout of boredom, but he declines. “Nah, I’m good right here.” He snatches up the magazine once more and thumbs through it. “Besides, I need to find out what color palette matches my skin tone.”
“Eddie—”
He cuts you off with his pointer finger. “Shhh. This is life-changing stuff, Sweetheart. I mean, what if I’m…an ‘autumn,’ but I’ve been wearing ‘winter’ this whole time?” His face contorts in mock horror. “Talk about tacky.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You love it.”
You absolutely do.
--
#eddie munson#stranger things fanfic#fanfic#stranger things#eddie stranger things#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x you#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson x y/n
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Rating: M | WC: ~8.2k (mostly smut)
Geonwoo's your best friend and there's nothing you wouldn't do for him. Including doing him.
Warnings: i say geonwoo’s not into guys but it’s just for the purposes of this fic he can do whatever/whoever he wants, virgin!geonwoo, lots of consent checks, mention of sti testing and pregnancy prevention, marking, pussydrunk!geonwoo, bigdick!geonwoo, fingering, oral f rec., multiple orgasms, condomless sex, creampie, lost the plot ten pages into the smut so sorry
Reader Notes: has a vagina and breasts, smaller than geonwoo (height and hands)
“You want me to do what?” You question, alarm bells ringing in your head.
“We want you to take Geonwoo’s virginity,” Woojin replies cheerfully, rubbing his knees and punctuating his sentence with a smile.
“Geonwoo, is this true?” You speak slowly, dragging your eyes from Woojin’s to Geonwoo’s.
“Mm,” he nods quickly, his lips pressed together and his hands wringing in his lap.
“Okay… Why me? And why now?”
Woojin opens his mouth but you shoot him a glare to cut him off, needing to hear it from Geonwoo himself. You raise your eyebrows when he doesn’t speak and he takes a quick breath, holding it like he’s steeling himself.
“Well, uh,” he looks around, avoiding your gaze, “I trust you the most, besides Woojin. And I’m not into guys, I think, so it can’t be him.”
“And as for why now, he-,”
“Woojin, let him-,”
Geonwoo steps in before you and Woojin can get into it, used to the way you bicker after all these months with the two of you.
“I’m turning 26 soon. I’m not embarrassed about still being a virgin but I don’t want it to become a thing, you know?”
You nod, unable to find a flaw in his logic.
“And this is a group discussion because…”
“Well, Geonwoo couldn’t ask you by himself, could he?”
“Couldn’t he?” You respond, a doubtful quirk to your brow.
Geonwoo purses his lips and shakes his head, “I really couldn’t. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this for weeks now.”
Woojin nods in confirmation next to him, his eyes serious and his mouth shut, for once.
There’s a lot for you to consider before you can give them, him, your answer. You’ve been friends with Geonwoo for a long time now, and you’re not sure you’re willing to risk complicating the relationship you have with sex. There’s also the responsibility that comes with being someone’s first, the desire to make it good for them, to take care of them.
“Do I have to decide now?”
They both rush to shake their heads, a long stream of, “No, no, no,” leaving Woojin.
“Take as much time as you need,” Geonwoo adds with wide eyes and a small, sweet smile.
You’re honestly not sure why it wasn’t an immediate no, and you have some things to think about now that you know at least some part of you wants to do it.
You stand, wanting to excuse yourself from this bizarre situation so you can do some reflecting. They both rise when you do, staying on their feet until you leave the room. You can feel Geonwoo’s eyes on you as you walk away, and you can’t say it’s a feeling you dislike.
It’s official, you’re going insane.
Ever since Woojin and Geonwoo planted the idea of you taking Geonwoo’s virginity in your mind, it’s all you can think about.
He’s the first thing on your mind when you wake and the last thing before you fall asleep, and even in your dreams, you’re still thinking about him.
Him and his big brown eyes and his undercut and his bulging muscles and his soft, sweet, reserved demeanor.
Him and how he would act in the bedroom, how he would touch you, how he would talk (if he would, and that’s a big if).
You’ve seen him let loose before, seen him fight for both his life and yours, but you’ve never seen him like this. You’re starting to fear that’s something you’ll have to fix.
“See you tomorrow, mom,” Geonwoo calls out the door, watching his mother walk down the hallway to her own apartment and get safely inside. He used to escort her to and from her door until she showed him the taser Mr. Oh got her. He backed off then, but still likes to make sure she gets in safe.
Returning to the dirty dishes in the kitchen, he stands at the sink, elbow deep in hot, soapy water and trying not to think about what he asked you last week.
Well, what he and Woojin asked you.
You’ve been his friend for years now. He first met you when you started working at his mom’s cafe, he grew closer to you when you moved into the spare bedroom, and now he’s terrified that he’s ruined everything.
You’re still normal enough around him, maybe zoning out a little more often and maybe a tiny bit short-tempered, but fine otherwise. It could be an act though, a facade you put up while you decide how to tell him no and also that you’re quitting the cafe and leaving town and never coming back. That would break his heart, and his mom’s too, and he prays he’s just overthinking.
His hands sweep around to search for more dishes but find nothing, so with a sigh, he lets the sink drain. Now he’ll have to find something else to keep his mind occupied, not that it was working very well. He could go train, but he’s already worked out today and he has a feeling he’ll be experiencing the wrath of Mr. Oh if he pushes himself any further. He’d like to avoid that, so-
“Geonwoo? Can we talk?”
Oh god.
He keeps his back turned, one of the only signs of disrespect he’s ever shown you, but he can’t stand to see the apologetic look on your face as you tell him no (and that you’re leaving forever, never to be seen or heard from again, all because of him).
“Look at me, please.”
He glances at you over his shoulder, long enough to see your open expression and the kindness in your eyes. You don’t seem as weighed down as you have lately, and he fully turns to face you, trying to hide how nervous he feels.
Folding his hands behind his back so he can drum his fingers on the counter unseen, he waits for you to speak.
“I was just thinking about what you asked me, I mean, I’ve been thinking about it all week but,” you shake your head like you need to clear it before continuing, “I’ll do it.”
Your last three words don’t register, and the meaning of them doesn’t either. He’s stuck on you saying you’ve been thinking about it, this, all week. He’s been thinking about it too, thinking about you, and it makes him feel a lot better to know you’ve been doing the same.
“Did you hear me?” You ask, confused at his lack of reaction.
“I heard you, you said you’ve been thinking about it. That’s good,” he assures you, his hands stilling as he leans against the counter.
“Geonwoo, I also said that I would do it.”
“Do what?” He asks, wondering if he can go with you to do whatever it is.
“Do it. You. Take your virginity.”
His heart thuds, squeezes, then stops.
“You will?”
He’s glad he was braced against something because his knees feel weak and his head is spinning. He’s been trying not to think about you in that way since before he asked you to do this, and now that you’ve agreed, he just knows his thoughts will be running rampant.
“Yes, I will. But we’ve gotta work out the logistics,” you remind him, rounding the island to lean against the counter next to him.
Your sudden proximity makes him straighten up before the scent of you soothes him, the familiar blend bringing him comfort like it always does.
“Logistics like… when?”
“That and whether or not we’re using a condom and we should probably get tested first and-,” you stop yourself before taking your phone from your pocket and typing rapidly, “I need to write this down.”
There’s so much more to consider than Geonwoo thought, but he won’t let it deter him. The two of you have always made a good team, and this won’t be any different, he’s sure.
Geonwoo and you spend the next few days planning. His birthday is next month and you decide together to set it as an informal deadline, though he’s sure it won’t be the end of the world if he loses his virginity at 26 instead of 25.
He’s telling Woojin about the details you’ve decided on when Woojin cuts him off.
“Bro, where’s the romance? Where’s the passion?” He says, slapping a hand on the table to emphasize his words. “This is all so… technical. This is why you shouldn’t be doing this without me.”
“Without you? You won’t be there, will you?”
“Tch, no, you know what I mean,” he grumbles before launching into the story of his own first time.
Geonwoo contemplates the rest of Woojin’s point, but honestly, things with you lately have been feeling romantic.
You’ve been sitting alone in his bedroom, close enough to whisper so that nobody else hears you, and talking about how exactly you’ll have sex with each other. He knows that doesn’t sound too romantic, but to him, it is.
Geonwoo loves planning, and he loves alone time, and he loves how you sound when you speak all low and secretive and logical. He doesn’t love talking, but luckily for him, you do the majority of it and the most he has to do is listen and respond, and he likes doing that too.
As for passion, he’s been feeling… plenty… of that. Too much, probably.
When you’re around, you’re all he can focus on. Anyone else can be in the room and he’ll be looking at you, talking to you, listening to you. Except for Woojin and his mom, of course, but even then, he’s got you in the back of his mind.
When you’re gone, he can’t stop thinking about you; where you are, what you’re doing, who you’re with. If you’re with a guy. A guy who’s better with words than he is, a guy who’s experienced, a guy who hasn’t put you through so much.
A guy who isn’t him.
But then Geonwoo reminds himself that you love him (platonically) and find him attractive enough (physically) to have sex with him, and he feels better.
“Dude, are you even listening to me right now? What did I just say? Hm?” Woojin questions, offense clear in his tone and his furrowed eyebrows.
“Sorry, I’m sorry, I wasn’t,” he ducks as Woojin takes a fake swipe at him. To be fair, he’s heard this story before, and he has something important to think about: you.
(He makes it up to Woojin later with all you can eat pork belly buffet).
Today’s the day.
Well, tonight’s the night.
You went over to Geonwoo and Woojin’s place around 6 PM dressed in your largest t-shirt and your comfiest yoga pants with an overnight bag in hand. Woojin is sleeping at Mr. Moon’s so you have the place to yourselves, and you both got tested three days ago with negative results. You discussed using condoms, but considering that you have protection in place and it’s Geonwoo’s first time, you’ve decided to skip them. Geonwoo already had everything prepared: another set of sheets at the ready, multiple options for movies to watch, and an order for an enormous amount of takeout.
You’re waiting on it now, sitting next to him on the couch and feeling a slight sense of awkwardness in the air. He’s being particularly shy, speaking only when asked a question but listening with wide, fascinated eyes, and you have to admit, it’s doing it for you.
You worried that you would feel some sort of hang up about being Geonwoo’s first, but when all the history is taken away, you’re two consenting adults that apparently want to have sex. So why shouldn’t you?
The doorbell rings before you can remind yourself of said history, and Geonwoo immediately shoots to his feet to answer it. He thanks (and tips) the delivery person quickly and returns with the food, carefully ripping the bag open to spread everything out on the coffee table.
The two of you make fast work of the takeout, bar the containers you decided to save for later, and clean up the mess left behind. Dinner breaks the ice, allowing you and Geonwoo to talk as friends/people who might become more.
As the night progresses, you watch his nerves grow again. It’s after he’s wiped his hands on his joggers for the fifth time that you pause the movie and turn on the couch to face him. He looks like a deer caught in the headlights and you wish you could placate him, but you think it may be better to just rip off the bandaid.
“Do you still wanna do this?” You ask gently, bringing a hand to his shoulder and squeezing. You’re about to mindlessly squeeze again, his muscles feeling firm but squishy somehow under your fingers, when he nearly shouts, “Yes!” and shrinks, making you assume his volume was unintended. You love his enthusiasm though, and the fact that you know you can ask him what he wants and he’ll tell you. Or at least answer yes or no questions.
“Do you want to go to your bedroom now, then? I feel like you’re just getting more nervous the longer we wait.”
He nods in response and springs to his feet, holding a hand out to help you from the couch and tug you to his room. It’s always tidy in there but you can see he’s made an extra effort in the candles dotted around the room and the oil diffuser sitting on his dresser. He leads you to his bed, letting you sit first before settling closer to you than he typically would. His hands stay clasped together in his lap, and it occurs to you that you may need to tell him what to do.
You usually aren’t one to be in charge when it comes to sex, but you’ll do anything for Geonwoo and this obviously counts as anything. You can call the shots tonight if that’s what he needs, and hopefully you’ll help him build up some confidence for whoever he’s with next. You can also pretend your heart doesn’t flip in your chest whenever you think of there being a next.
Geonwoo shifts next to you on the bed, his hands resting on his thighs and his form tense. You have to figure out how to unwind him, how to make him feel safe with you, and you feel like the first barrier to cross is his reticence with touching you. He’s always kept himself at arms’ length, enough so that when you saw how he and Woojin behaved, you honestly felt kind of jealous. He’s never had that ease with you, and you used to live with him.
At least you have the opportunity to change that now. Your hand only shakes a little bit as you reach out to cover Geonwoo’s. He jumps when you come into contact with him, but quickly opens his hands to accept yours. You can’t help but note how long and calloused his fingers are, your mind running to how they would feel on you and, dare you say it, in you.
“We can go slow,” you promise, “And I can guide you, if you want.”
“Yes, I think that would be good,” Geonwoo agrees with a squeeze of your hand. “Eventually, I would like to try to… I don’t know how to say it, be in charge?”
“We can do that,” you nod, heat flooding your stomach at the thought of Geonwoo taking the reins, holding you down, fucking you how he wants. You know there may be some fumbling before you get there, but by God you hope you do. “Why don’t we start with a kiss?”
Geonwoo hums and leans forward almost imperceptibly, just enough for you to crane your neck and press your lips to his. You keep it gentle, slow, getting him used to you with little pecks and small sucks. He finds your rhythm faster than you expect, timidly kissing you back and bringing a hand up to cup your cheek.
You try to push down the giddy shiver that rises at him touching you so delicately, but a little shake still makes its way through your shoulders. Geonwoo notices, of course, exhaling a laugh against your lips that sparks a smile in return, and soon enough, you’re both grinning too wide to kiss anymore.
“This is kinda fun,” you breathe, pulling back to brush some errant hair out of his eyes.
“It is,” he agrees, smiling shyly and grazing your cheekbone with his thumb. “Should we keep going?”
You nod and lean in again, locking your lips with his and swallowing a sigh at the plushness of them. Gently, you swipe your tongue over his bottom lip, waiting for his mouth to open before just barely gliding it against his in a tentative motion. He gasps, his lips parting further and his tongue tangling with yours as his hand shifts to cradle your jaw. His fingers wrap around the back of your neck and tilt your head back to give him the angle he wants, and you’re not sure he’s aware that he’s doing it but it’s still so hot that you let a weak little sound escape into his mouth.
Geonwoo presses his lips harder against yours, shifting closer on the bed until your knees touch and his warmth radiates into you. It’s the closest he’s been to you in a while, beyond the occasional hug and pat on the back, and already his proximity is making you dizzy. The lightheadedness could also have something to do with his scent, soft and clean but handsome and manly too, just like Geonwoo himself.
You didn’t think kissing alone would have this effect on you, or that you’d want to do more than kissing so soon, but here you are, sitting next to him on his bed and struggling not to climb right into his lap. His thighs are just so thick and strong and welcoming, and you’d fit so well together, but you’ve only just started and it’s probably best to keep things slow. Which means not straddling him and kissing him breathless without warning.
But you can do that with a warning, though, right?
“Geonwoo, can I sit in your lap?”
He gasps out a yes and takes your hand with his free one, helping you climb atop him and get settled. You’re not pressed too snugly against him yet, but you can already feel the heat stirring between your bodies. You’re starting to get wet, your core pulsing in time with your heart, and when you shuffle a bit closer, something bumps against your thigh.
Geonwoo moans softly into your mouth, shifting both hands to your hips and squeezing, like he wants to pull you into him but he’s not sure if he can. You inch further into his lap and his grip tightens, his chest brushing against yours with every breath.
You can feel Geonwoo getting bolder, more confident, as he starts to take control of the kiss. He slides his tongue into your mouth, humming when you suck on it and smiling when you rest a hand on his shoulder.
You’ve definitely been looking forward to getting your hands on him, and it’s even better than you imagined. He’s so dense and big, with power wrapped up in every muscle. You’ve never gotten to touch anyone like him before, or be with anyone like him before, and it’s honestly exhilarating.
His shoulder is firm beneath your fingers, the warmth seeping through his t-shirt reminding you that you’re both fully clothed. Geonwoo seems more comfortable with touching you, so now could be a good time to lose some layers.
“Should we take these off?” You break the kiss to ask, giggling at his resulting pout and tugging at the edge of his shirt.
He responds by hauling the shirt off himself and letting it drop to the floor before slipping his hands beneath the fabric of yours. His palms are warm on your stomach, points of connection that sear your nerve endings and send your heart thumping, and as he drags them up, your shirt goes with them.
He stops just below your breasts, his thumbs skimming the underwire of your bra and his fingers spread over your rib cage, before looking up at you with a question in his eyes. You raise your arms in response, easing the way of the shirt and showing Geonwoo that you’re comfortable. When the fabric clears your head, you catch sight of the expression on Geonwoo’s face and sigh happily. He looks awed, enraptured, reverent, and you haven’t even taken your bra off yet.
You reach behind your back to find the clasp but Geonwoo stops you with a gentle hand, “Can I try?”
He fumbles for a bit but figures it out eventually, beaming at you when the clasp comes apart and your bra goes limp. You can’t help but smile back, squeezing his hands where he lets them rest on your thighs. The undergarment dangles from your shoulders and Geonwoo’s eyes grow wide at the idea of seeing you bare, but he doesn’t make a move to take it off. He must not be sure if he’s allowed to, so you let it slip a couple of inches, watching as he stares with bated breath.
Being able to captivate him like this is a heady feeling, but you won’t take advantage of it this time, won’t make him wait. The bra slides down your arms and to the bed, and Geonwoo stops breathing. You sit primly on his lap with your legs straddled over his spread thighs, trying to keep your heart steady as you let him look his fill.
When he still hasn’t moved, you take hold of his hands and bring them to your stomach, telling him, “You can touch me, Geonwoo.”
He sucks in a deep breath, his trembling hands slowly rising to cover your breasts. They’re so warm and big on you, calloused from lifting and strong from fighting. They’re perfect, and you let your head tip back as his palms brush over your nipples.
You almost jump when he leans forward to kiss your neck, shocked but pleased by his initiative. He’s gentle, just pressing his lips to your skin and softly sucking in a path leading to your collarbone.
His teeth dig in a little and you do startle in his lap, making him pull away to check on you.
“Was that okay?” he asks nervously, scared that he’s overstepped.
“Yes! Yes, I didn’t expect you to do that, but I liked it.”
He breathes out a sigh of relief and returns his mouth to your collarbone, nipping at your delicate skin and pulling away to look at the indent he’d left.
He shares a secretive smile with you, his eyes giddy like he’s doing something he knows he’s not supposed to.
“Can I leave some marks? I like how they look on you.”
“You can leave however many you want as long as my clothes cover them.”
He nods resolutely, smoothing his thumb over the bruise he’d left on your collarbone and bending further to kiss across the tops of your breasts.
You arch your back to give him more room to work, inadvertently shifting over the hardness in his joggers and making him groan around the flesh bitten between his teeth.
He pulls away with a pop, his eyes wide and dark and his thighs tense under you.
“Should I keep doing that?” you ask him, your voice embarrassingly breathy and your hips itching to move.
“Please,” he says, one of his hands dropping to grasp your hip and pull you over him again. “Feels good.”
You can’t hold back the smile, pleased that he’s being open and losing some of the propriety he always maintains with you. He smiles back before leaning down and pressing a trail of kisses down to your pebbled nipple.
He tentatively sucks it into his warm, wet mouth, making you gasp and grind on him, your hips inching over until you can sit yourself right on his stiffening dick.
He feels big, because of course he would be, and you can feel yourself get wetter at the thought of seeing him, touching him, feeling him.
You’ll let him explore first though, let him get acquainted with your body and what it’s like to give someone else pleasure. It was something you had to learn too, and you’re glad you get to be the one to teach him.
He’s a quick study, you find. Lightly nipping at your left nipple with his teeth and rolling the right with his fingertips, cupping the weight of your breast with one hand and grinding you over his bulge with the other.
It already feels so good, and with the pressure and friction on your core, it’s almost too good. But you won’t stop him, not when he seems to be finding his stride, and definitely not when he’s so hard that you can feel the shape of him, feel just how long and thick he is. You’ll have to show him how to stretch you out, how to help you take him, and you honestly can’t wait.
“Woo, do you-,” you gasp, feeling a groan vibrate into your skin as soon as his nickname leaves your lips. You don’t use it often, only when you’re particularly tired or happy, and apparently, when you’re about to beg him to touch you.
He pulls away with a hum and licks his lips before asking, “Do I what?”
“Do you want to go further? I can feel how big you are, you’ll need to get me ready first.”
“Will you show me how?” He asks, as if you could ever leave him in the dark like that.
“Of course I will,” you assure him, cupping his scarred cheek in your hand and bringing him into a soft kiss. You break away before you can get too distracted and attempt to get off of his lap without revealing how shaky your knees are. They’re difficult to hide and you have to brace your hands on his shoulders, but you manage to get your feet on the floor somehow and dip your fingers into the waistband of your yoga pants.
He stops you before you can push them down and you can tell he’s about to ask if he can remove them himself, so you slip your hands out of his grasp and place them on his shoulders for stability again.
He flashes a quick smile at you, tucking his fingers into the elastic and pulling the stretchy fabric down. You feel it as soon as you step out of your bottoms, how wet you are. It’s soaked through your panties, and you’re not sure whether or not you want Geonwoo to notice.
Thankfully, he doesn’t. His thumbs hook in the sides of your underwear, his eyebrows raising in a question that you answer with a nod. He tugs them down your legs slowly, his gaze staying locked with yours until they hit the floor.
His eyes go heavy lidded as he looks at you, his kiss-swollen lips parting on a sigh and his warm hands settling on your hips. You feel kind of exposed but you don’t want to interrupt him as he seems to be growing more sure of himself.
You do want him to be as naked as you are though, so you squeeze his hands and say, “Your turn?”
He nods, rising to his feet and standing nearly flush with you. His warmth radiates out, his toned chest brushing against your breasts with each breath. You bring your hands to his waistband, tucking your fingers in between his joggers and his underwear.
“You can take it all off,” he offers, his voice deeper than you’re used to but no less gentle.
“If that’s what you want.” You take hold of his boxers and pants and begin to push them down, the backs of your fingers dragging along his skin until they’re low enough to fall on their own. He steps out of them and further into you, his arms coming up to wrap around your waist when you set your hands on his toned stomach.
The air between you is warm and thick with tension as your palms slide up his chest to wrap around his neck and pull him down into a kiss. He hums against your lips, turning in a slow circle so your back is to the bed and gently pushing you onto it.
You sit heavily, bouncing in place and watching as he kneels before you. Your legs stay clasped together, shyness keeping them closed, and he sets his hands on them with a soft squeeze.
“Show me?”
“Geonwoo, your knees will-“
“My knees will be fine. Show me? Please?”
You slowly spread your legs apart, leaning back on your hands to stabilize yourself as you let him see you bare for the first time.
He breathes in a ragged gasp, exhaling, “You’re so… wet.”
“That’s a good thing,” you assure him, operating under the assumption that he doesn’t know much about sex.
“Oh,” he sighs, relieved and smiling as his hands slide up your thighs.
When his thick, calloused fingers come into contact with your core, you have to fight back a shiver. It’s been a while for you, and even Geonwoo’s timid touches are more than you’re used to. His digits glide through your folds, catching on your clit and making you gasp, “There, Geonwoo.”
He listens to you attentively, tucking half his fingers away so he can rub with two fingertips, his eyes darting back and forth between your center and your face. He starts with an up-down motion, furrowing his brows and spreading your folds open with his other hand so he can see better. You feel a bit bashful but you want him to explore, want him to feel comfortable with you and with how to pleasure you, so you take a deep breath and widen your legs further.
He presses a kiss to your inner thigh in thanks and shuffles closer, fascination and focus clear in his expression as he gets to know you in this way. He’s methodical, experimenting with different motions and keeping his eyes on your face the whole time to gauge what you like best. When he lands on little circles that make your back arch and your eyelids flutter, he stops testing shapes to concentrate on finding the pace you prefer, starting slow and gradually speeding up until you tell him, “Like that! Like that, Geonwoo.”
He shifts forward out of excitement, his face close enough to you that you can feel his breaths, feel his hair brushing your inner thighs, feel the warmth radiating off of him. You love his enthusiasm, his dedication to learning you and making you feel good, and you shouldn’t have expected any less. Geonwoo gives his all to everything he does, of course that would include you.
“I’m definitely wet enough now, you can, um, put a finger in. Palm up,” You instruct shakily, watching as he removes the hand spreading you open and brings it back with his palm up, just like you said. He dips the tip of his finger into your entrance, a trembling sigh leaving him when he feels you for the first time.
“How are you so hot and soft and wet inside? You feel perfect,” He nearly moans, letting his finger slide in all the way. It’s longer, thicker than yours, and the little bit of stretch it gives you is delicious.
“Move it in and out, and you can kind of curl up and try to find-”
You yelp as Geonwoo’s fingertip prods your g-spot immediately, his finger the perfect length to reach it. He gasps and looks at you, fearful of your reaction before you assure him, “That was good! That’s where you want to aim, okay? And you can add another.”
“Okay!” He nods, beaming, and returns his attention to between your legs. He pulls his finger out and returns with two, his mouth open and his eyes half-lidded as he watches them sink inside you. Seemingly mesmerized, Geonwoo starts up a slow rhythm, his gaze locked on his fingers as they disappear in and out of you.
Once he has a good pattern down, he curls them again, the tips unerringly finding your g-spot and rubbing gently with every thrust. Your arms shake as he unknowingly starts to build you up, making you drop down to your elbows and let your head tip back.
“Does it feel good?” Geonwoo asks you breathlessly, making you tilt your chin enough to look down at him. His plush lips are parted, his eyes half-lidded but oh so curious and filled with a heat you’ve never seen in him before.
“So good, Geonwoo, you’re doing so good,” you sigh, biting back a smile as his ears turn a deep red at your words. Geonwoo loves to learn but he gets so shy when his efforts are recognized, and this is no different. You’ll have to be sure to praise him when you can, half because you want to reassure him and half because you really like how reactive he is to it.
You expected to have to make yourself cum tonight but you think Geonwoo just might get you there, every curl of his fingers pushing you closer to the edge. When he starts rubbing circles into your clit again, the heat building in your stomach takes on a searing edge.
“Put in one more,” you instruct, feeling a third finger squeeze its way inside you as soon as you finish speaking. “Spread them a bit, it’ll- it’ll help.”
His fingers push against the tightness of your walls, his breathing ragged as he carefully opens you up. The stretch is good, the feeling of his calluses on your throbbing clit even better, and as you begin the climb, you open your mouth to tell him (beg him) not to stop. But before you can say anything, Geonwoo speaks up.
“Can I use my mouth?”
Can he use his mouth? Where did this man come from? Heaven? Your dreams?
“Yes, Geonwoo, please, I’m getting close.”
He swears under his breath and leans forward, replacing the fingers on your clit with his warm, wet tongue. You lose some of your momentum as he gets used to the taste and feel of you, his tongue lapping at your folds with soft, broad strokes. It still feels good, but you need more if you’re going to cum.
Geonwoo seems to know without you telling him and wraps his plump lips around your bundle of nerves, giving you a short, cautious suck. Your thighs try to snap closed but you don’t let them, your muscles quivering as you attempt to hold your position. He notices, of course he notices, and uses his free hand to heft your leg up on his shoulder, sucking harder when you bring the other one up on your own.
His face is practically buried in your pussy now and with three of his fingers still filling you, you know you won’t last much longer. Your walls are starting to flutter and there’s a burn deep in your pelvis, a coil that only grows tighter and tighter with each purse of his lips around your clit. All he has to do is keep going and you’ll-
His fingers hook inside of you again making your hips buck against his mouth, and he lets out a groan so loud, the vibrations carry you right over the edge. Your eyes clench shut as you soar, white noise blanking out any thoughts beyond Geonwoo, Geonwoo, Geonwoo.
He doesn’t know to slow down and you don’t have the mental capacity to tell him to, his fingers rubbing your g-spot over and over again as he noisily sucks at your clit, bringing you through your orgasm and right up to another one. Your thighs shake, the icy bite of overstimulation starting to claw at you, and you let yourself fall back completely, your now free hands tangling in his cropped hair.
You could push him away, could stop him before he makes you cum again, but he’s just so good and it’s been so long and before you know it, you’re keening your way through a second release. Your thighs do snap shut this time, but he’s strong enough to break free if he needs to so you don’t worry, don’t think, don’t breathe.
All you do is feel. Feel his fingers inside you and his mouth around you and his breaths against you, feel the clenching of your core and the pulsing of your clit and the heat in your belly. You feel everything, and it’s almost too much but at the same time, it’s not enough.
You wonder if you’ll ever feel like you’ve had enough of Geonwoo, and before you can talk yourself out of your aftershocks of bliss, he slowly pulls his fingers out and slides his tongue in. You gasp brokenly at the sudden change but sigh as he wraps his arms around your thighs and holds you tight, holds you close.
“Geonwoo, don’t you want-”
He thrusts his tongue in and out, and your mouth closes with a click, your fingers shaking in his hair and your cheeks heating at the obscene sounds that escape from between you. Your head tilts back into the bed as he devours you, his tongue curling and pulling arousal from you like he wants to drink you down.
You’d let him, would let him do just about anything he wants to you at this point, you’re so boneless and brainless with pleasure. When he discovers he can push his nose into your clit while he fucks you with his tongue, you all but melt into the bed as a long, drawn out moan leaves your parted lips.
He groans in response, dimpling the flesh of your thighs under his fingertips, his grip growing tighter and tighter as you get wetter and wetter. You don’t know if you’ll be able to cum again, but if you can, you’d much rather cum on his dick than his tongue, so you assemble all the brain cells you have left and breathe, “Geonwoo, please, get up here.”
He pauses, his tongue halfway inside of you and his nose pushing against the hood of your clit. You both feel and hear his questioning noise, the confusion and reluctance clear in his hazy eyes.
“This was to get me ready and I definitely am now. Are you?” You laugh weakly, staring down at him as you card your fingers through his hair. His gaze grows heavy lidded, his tongue taking one last trip through your folds before he carefully pushes your thighs off his shoulders and rises to hover over you, bracketing your head with his forearms.
“I’m ready,” He exhales, his face shining and his big, leaking cock brushing against your thighs. You shiver at the sensation, already anticipating the stretch you’ll feel when he pushes inside for the first time.
He doesn’t seem like he needs you to tell him what to do anymore so you fall silent, watching him as he takes hold of his dick and lines it up with your entrance. You try to relax your inner muscles as he splits you open, but it’s difficult with the girth of him, his cock so wide you almost wish you’d told him to use four fingers instead of three. But you treasure the feeling, cherish the ache, and when he stops halfway in, you fear you’ll die if he doesn’t keep going.
“Why did you stop?” You gasp, his dick so big it’s like you can feel him in your throat.
“I’m trying not to cum,” he chokes out, his eyes clenched shut and his hands in fists beside your head.
Oh. Ohhhh, that’s hot.
“Take your time,” you wheeze, bringing your hands up to rub his toned back and doing your absolute best to stay still.
When Geonwoo has himself under control again, he continues to press inside of you, pushing deeper and deeper and deeper until he has nowhere left to go. Your breath catches in your lungs, the absolute fullness stealing every thought in your head.
“Are you okay?” He asks, his voice thin and shaky.
“I should be asking you that,” you half-moan, half-chuckle.
He huffs out a laugh, letting his forehead rest on your collarbone as you struggle to adjust to him. You know he can feel every flutter of your walls, every flex of your inner muscles, and you try to relax for him but it’s so hard when he’s the biggest you’ve ever taken.
After some deep breathing and wishful thinking, you think maybe you could stand to let him move. You’ve stretched a bit more, opened up a little, and with how wet you still are, he should be able to glide in and out.
“Geonwoo, I’m good, you can move now.”
“Are you sure?” He lifts his head to catch your eye, his restraint visible in his flexed abs and trembling arms.
“I’m sure,” you promise, bringing your hands up to rub his toned back as he pulls his hips away from yours and leaves you empty. The drag of his cock against your walls is exquisite, and you can’t contain the moan that bursts from you when he plunges back inside.
“How does it feel?” You gasp, your nails digging into his muscles and your legs wrapping around his waist.
“So fu- so good, tight and wet and hot and perfect,” he nearly sobs, “I won’t last.”
“That’s okay, Woo, you can cum whenever you want. And you can swear.”
He doesn’t normally curse in front of you, or much at all, and you’re nearly desperate to hear him uncensored. You want to know all sides of him, know him better than you know yourself, and you revel in the knowledge that now you know him like nobody else does.
It takes him a few strokes to find a rhythm but when he does, it’s devastating. He moves in and out of you slowly, but with power behind every thrust. You’re halfway up the bed before you even realize but Geonwoo just follows you, climbing up and using the new surface to fuck you even harder.
He’s so good at this already, but you shouldn’t be shocked. He’s got the heart of a boxer and the muscle control of one too, and that just means he’s even more efficient at building you up and breaking you down. You’re at the building up part now, the orgasm you weren’t sure you’d reach slowly coming into view as he shifts one shaking hand down between your legs.
“Cum with me?” He begs brokenly, his cock starting to twitch and leak inside of you. All you can do is nod, too busy whimpering at the feeling of his fingers on your clit and his big dick filling you up to form any words. He swears under his breath, his hips stuttering as one of his arms snakes under you to pull you into his chest. You cling to him, your body held almost fully aloft, and feel the rubber band in your stomach stretch thinner and thinner until finally, it snaps.
You clamp down so tight on him he can barely move, your walls swallowing around his cock and sucking it in deeper as he shatters with a groan. It’s the first time you’ve ever reached release with someone before, and immediately you know this is how it always should be. Your orgasm feeds into his and his into yours, his jerking dick drawing out every last bit of pleasure you can feel as he fills you up with his cum.
Your mind is hazy, your thoughts unspooled and messy, and your body hurts, your muscles sore and your core achey, but you’ve never felt better in your life. You’ve never been happier or more content than you are right now, with your numb legs and throbbing center and full, full, full pussy.
Geonwoo is still holding you to him with his face buried in your neck but he slowly collapses the arm holding him up, sinking down to the bed until he’s got half his weight on you. You want to see him, want to know what he’s feeling, what he’s thinking, but you can’t disturb him, can’t pop the bubble you’ve found yourself in with him.
It could be seconds, minutes, or hours until he pulls away. He’s gotten softer inside you but he still feels big, his cock plugging you up and keeping all of his cum from trickling out. When he lifts his head up to look at you, his eyes are misty, his lips are swollen, and his cheeks are red, and you swear he’s never been more beautiful to you.
“Thank you,” he breathes, his voice tight with an emotion you don’t recognize.
“Of course, Woo. I would do anything for you,” you whisper, bringing your hands up to cup his face. You brush over his cheekbones with your thumbs and pull him in closer, pressing a soft peck first upon his lips, then his nose, then his forehead. His eyes crinkle with a shy smile before he tilts his chin and captures your lips again in a sweet, slow kiss.
Your hips are growing sore, the need for a shower is growing urgent, and you think you even felt your stomach growl, but none of that feels more important than staying in his embrace. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him, and it might never happen again. You wish the thought didn’t settle in the pit of your stomach like a sinking stone, but here you are, wrapped around Geonwoo and trying to keep yourself from crying as he kisses you more gently than you’ve ever been kissed before.
You get too distracted by your somber realization to move your lips against his and he pulls away, furrowing his eyebrows when he sees the tears welling up in your eyes.
“Did I hurt you?” He asks, panicked and with his cheeks squished between your hands.
“No!” You rush to assure him. “No, you didn’t hurt me, I’m just…”
“You’re what?” His voice is tender, patient, encouraging, but you aren’t ready to bare yourself to him like this just yet, no matter how naked you already are.
Shaking your head, you pinch his cheek and force a smile, “I’m ready for a shower. Are you?”
He purses his lips, gazing at you knowingly but thankfully deciding to let you keep your secrets.
“Yeah, I am. Do you want to start the water while I strip the bed?”
“That sounds good.”
You nod to each other but neither of you make a move. It’s like you’re frozen, stuck in place until you give your unpleasant thoughts a voice. Geonwoo holds your gaze, his expression open and understanding, and you wish you could just tell him.
Tell him that you don’t want there to be any others after you. That you don’t want anyone else now that you’ve had him. That you don’t want this to be the first and last time. That the feelings you hold for him are no longer simply platonic.
But you open your mouth to speak and nothing comes out, the words caught in your throat as it starts to burn like it always does when you cry. You swallow down the tears, swallow down your fears and wishes and desires, and begin the process of removing yourself from him.
He allows it, slowly pulling away until he frees himself with a hiss, his fingers immediately covering your entrance to keep his cum from spilling out. Your cheeks heat at the intimacy of his touch, a small gasp escaping you as he breathes, “I wish you could keep it inside.”
You could always fill me up again, you think wistfully.
“Me too, Geonwoo,” you murmur instead.
You're alone in the shower letting the water run over your face so you can pretend you're not crying when you hear the door open. Geonwoo peeks his head around the edge of the curtain with a hopeful grin and asks, "Can I join you?"
You hold back a sniffle and nod, smiling weakly and stepping away from the spray so he has room to climb in. He does so gracefully, solid on his feet and confident in his balance, before turning to face you and taking you in his arms. He pulls you into a hug, your naked bodies pressed together under the warm rush of water, and you melt against him, your arms winding around his neck and your knees deciding to go on break.
"Do you think, maybe, I could, um, take you out on a date sometime? Like... as soon as possible?" He whispers into your neck, just loud enough for you to hear him over the shower.
Your heart stops, thumps one, two, three times, and then starts racing.
"I'm free right now."
Tagging: @calllmeifugetlost @againwithwonu @sparklingtragedy
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#kim geonwoo#geonwoo fanfiction#woo dohwan#bloodhounds#bloodhounds kdrama#bloodhounds fanfic#bloodhounds netflix#woo do hwan ff#woo do hwan fanfiction#woo do hwan#bloodhounds x reader#bloodhounds imagines#kim gun woo#hong woo jin#✨emily writes✨
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pervy voyeur!ethan who jerks off to his roommate masturbating in her bed. Maybe she invites him to join? please I'm begging
I miss writing Ethan smut (any smut, honestly) so much! Most requests I have left are non-smut... The gif fits perfectly the scene
Warnings: smut, voyeur!ethan, masturbating,
my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time
—
It wasn’t a secret to you that Ethan was a bit of a voyeur. You had caught him peeking through the bathroom during your shower a few times, trying to catch a glimpse of you naked. Anyone would have been uncomfortable and said something, but you didn’t. It didn’t bother you. A part of you wanted him to watch you.
After your shower and getting ready for bed, you headed to your bedroom and purposely left your door open — ajar.
It was Thursday, aka self care Thursday, so you grabbed your favorite toy from the back of your nightstand and settled on your bed against your pillows. Once you were comfortable enough, you peeled off your pajama shorts and began teasing yourself over your panties.
With the stress of school and all the exams coming up, it was nice to relieve some stress by getting off.
Quickly enough, you started feeling the arousal building in you. You craved for more, though, so you slipped your hand underneath the delicate fabric and immediately went to your clit. You rubbed it, the sensation sent a jolt of electricity up your spine, and pulled your cami down, reaching for your hardened nipples. Your thumb and forefinger held the peak gingerly and rolled it around, letting out a moan as your back arched from both stimulations.
In the living room, Ethan counted the minutes before quietly going down the hallway and stopping outside of your room. It was perverted and wrong to purposely eavesdrop on your roommate’s intimate moments, but Ethan would do anything to hear your soft moans. They were so beautiful he wanted to record them and make it his favorite lullaby.
Tonight was different, though. Tonight, your door was ajar and Ethan could perfectly see you lying on your bed in the dimly lit room. He stepped closer to the door and saw the bottom of your legs through the little gap. You had no pants on and those beautiful thighs he dreamed of squeezing and burying his face in between looked so fucking apetizing.
Most important of all though, was the hand shoved in your underwear.
His breath caught in his throat. Ethan should be looking away, he was your roommate, but he was so incredibly aroused by the sight before him that he could not possibly move a muscle.
Not getting enough satisfaction, you removed your underwear and ran the rubbery head of the dildo sliding right between your folds, smearing the wetness that had accumulated there. ‘’Aah,’’ you sighed, loving the pleasure the toy provided.
In the doorway, Ethan couldn’t believe what he was seeing. After months of fantasizing and imagining you touching yourself to the sounds of your sweet moans, he was finally seeing the spectacle with his own eyes. And it was fucking beautiful.
You moaned again, pushing the dildo inside you, and he swore under his breath, feeling himself grow hard as the blood rushed south. Ethan covered his mouth to moan to himself, his other busy rubbing his length over his jeans as you slowly pushed the toy in and out of your tight pussy, your arousal coating it as you worked it between your legs.
Cupping a hand over his aching cock, Ethan somehow managed to keep a very tenuous grasp on the groan that wanted to spill out of his mouth. If he made any sound, it would be over for him and he really didn’t want to pack his bags and crash on someone’s couch.
You bit your bottom lip as you grabbed one of your breasts, toying with your nipple while pushing the toy deeper. Lost in your trance of pleasure, you opened your legs wider, whimpering as the explicit sound of your slick echoed in the room.
‘’Fuck,’’ Ethan slipped quietly, fumbling to open the front of his pants so he could get his hand around his cock.
The show kept going a bit longer, until Ethan’s voyeur eyes locked with yours in the crack of the door. He froze, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Blood rushed to his cheeks and panic struck his face. He didn’t even know what to say, how to explain himself. He expected you to yell at him that he was a pervert, but instead you raised an eyebrow at him with a smirk.
‘’Like what you see?’’ You looked directly at him, bucking your hips against your hand, your walls clenching around the toy.
Your words sent Ethan into a stuttering mess as he blushed furiously. ‘’I… Maybe a little,’’ he uttered out, his cock still in his fist.
‘’Well, come on in.’’ You patted the space on your bed. ‘’Do you think you could help me finish?’’
—
Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn @bt.oliana @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf @michaelangdonsslut @byhrxb @kamthecoolest @kattybug @ravenstrueluv @landryslxys @die4niyahhh @sl4sh3rfuck3r @radiant-whore @Meadzy21 @luci1fer @nomorespahgetti @bloodyhw @depthsofdespairr @bellysbeach
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#ethan landry#ethan landry imagine#ethan landry x you#ethan landry x reader#ethan landry smut#scream 6 imagines#scream 6
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Can you make a fic of Nate and y/n having an argument because he thought she was flirting with their rivals captain and she says I bet he fucks better and before he can show her who does they are interrupted but the door opening and they have to wait on a long car ride home until they get dropped off at his house and he shows her who fucks better (idk if this made any sense kinda rushed.) 🙏
Captain
Nathan Doe x Reader
Masterlist
The crowd cheers from the bleachers as the home team scores another point. People standing and jumping as the shout and cheer. I bite my lip and smile, staring at my boyfriend as he skates on the ice.
I see him smile back at me through his helmet, waving his hand at me. I wave back before quickly putting my hand back down.
Once the game is over, I head through the crowd of people to find Nate. I stop at the door to the locker room, waiting for him to exit. A few of his teammates leave first, smiling at me as they walk past. It’s a usual routine, me waiting for him after every game.
As I wait someone unfamiliar walks past, going the opposite direction as everyone else. He turns around and looks back at me. He smiles and points at me. “I saw you, in the bleachers. Front row.” He says.
“Yeah, I was watching my boyfriend.” I tell him.
“Is your boyfriend on my team or the home team?” He asks.
“Home team.”
“Is he captain, I’m caption. My names Jake, yours?” Jake puts his hand on the wall by my head.
Before I can speak, we’re interrupted. “Her name is Y/n.” Nate says. He walks over to me and takes my hand. “She’s my girlfriend.”
Jake steps back and smiles. “Ah, okay then. I guess I’ll go.”
“Sounds good to me.” Nate says and Jake leaves. Nate turns to me, glaring. “I’m gone for five minutes and you cling to someone else?”
My jaw drops. “I was not clinging to him!”
“You could have fooled me, you were all over him.”
“I was not!”
“He was all over you.”
“That’s not the same thing!”
“You didn’t push him away.”
“So it’s my fault? He was just being nice.”
“He was flirting with you!”
“Nate, I’d rather not do this here.” I say as I start to walk away.
Nate grips my hand tightly, keeping me from walking away from him. “Would you rather be with him? What, does he fuck better than me?”
“I bet he does.” I laugh.
Without a second thought Nate pushes me through the door of the empty locker room, pressing me against the wall. His hands grip my hips tightly as his lips slam against mine. He lifts me up and I wrap my legs around his waist, and my hands tangle themselves in his hair.
Nate’s tongue slips into my mouth as his hands travel under my shirt. His hands cup my breasts and squeeze lightly as his hips grind into me. I let out a soft moan into his mouth and Nate takes that as the go ahead. He begins to slip my shirt up.
The door opens and one of Nate’s teammates barges in. His face immediately goes red. “I- I think I left my phone in here…” he says.
Nate sets me down steps away from me. “We were just leaving.” He says. He takes my hand and we leave the locker room.
Nates quiet as we walk to his car. He opens the passenger door for me. Even when he’s pissed he’s still a gentleman. He closes the door once I’m in and gets into the drivers side.
The ride back to his house was agonizing. Part of me believes he’s doing it on purpose. Hitting every red light and waiting longer at each stop sign.
I clench my legs together, trying to stop the heat rising in me. I stare at Nate as he clenches his jaw, his knuckles white from how tightly he’s gripping the steering wheel.
After what felt like hours, we finally pull into his driveway. I unbuckle my seatbelt quickly and get out of his car. Nate grabs my hand and pulls me into his house. He rushes up the stairs and yanks me to the bed, slamming the bedroom door behind him.
I sit up on the bed as Nate quickly slams his lips to mine. I pulls him as close as he can possibly be to me. I keep my hands on his shoulders as he crawls over me. He sits up over me. “I’m gonna show you who fucks better.” He says as he takes off his shirt and throws it across the room.
“Nate-“ I start to say but his lips clash against mine once again. My hands travel over his firm biceps and trail over his shoulder blades. His hands rush under my shirt and squeeze my boobs.
I tug on his sweats, begging him to take them off. I whine and paw at his bulge. “You’re so needy. I haven’t even touched you yet.” Nate whispers in my ear before kissing my neck.
“Nate, please.” I beg.
“Use your words baby.” He whispers between kisses.
“Nate, fuck me, please!” I beg.
Nate smirks and lifts my shirt over my head, discarding it on the floor. His lips latch against my skin as his hands fiddle with my jeans. He lays kisses over chest and down my stomach before reaching my jeans. He undoes the button and in zips them. I lift my hips up and let Nate slide my pants down.
He kisses my core from over my panties, trailing his finger up and down. “Nate!” I whine. “Please, just do something!”
Nate places one last kiss on my core before lifting his head up. “Be patient.” He tells me. I let out a soft whine and Nate shuts me up my pressing his lips to mine again.
I grind my hips against his for some friction. His bulge presses against my core and I let out another moan into his lips. He pulls away and pulls down his sweats. His bulge is even more prominent in his boxers.
I reach out to touch him but he pins my wrists above my head. “Not yet, baby.” He says.
I whine again and Nate smirks. He lets go of my wrists and trails kisses back down to my panties. He slides them to the side and presses a kiss to my clit. I gasp and my hands cling to his hair. Nate smiles and licks a stride up my core. He pads his tongue up and down my slit over and over before moving up and sucking on my clit.
Nate’s head dips up and lets go of my panties. He hooks his fingers through the sides of my panties and pulls them down. He throws them across the room before dipping down once again to lick another stride down my slit.
His tongue licks up and down my folds, stopping at my hole to push his tongue deep inside me, causing me to let out a loud moan and tug in his hair.
Nate chuckles, the air tickling my core causing me to shiver. His lips move to my click to suck on it once again while he slips two fingers inside of me. He pumps and curls the two fingers while his tongue flicks and swirls and sucks on my clit.
I moan loudly and pull on his hair, causing him to laugh against me again. He pulls his fingers out and pulls his head up just as I was about to release.
“Nate-“ I whine out. Nate presses his lips against mine before I can say anymore.
He pulls away. “Who’s fucking you better?“ he asks.
“You are.” I reply.
Nate smiles and pulls down his boxers. His cock springs free and slaps against his stomach. He pumps it a few times with his hand before leaning down, his chest almost pressed against mine, his head in the crook of my neck as he slips into me.
I moan out loudly from the sheer size of him inside of me. Nate groans in my ear and lifts up, a hand on either side of my head as he looks into my eyes. He drags his hips away from me, pulling out to the tip before slamming into me harshly.
I wrap my leg around his waist, and he uses one hand to steady my leg while to other stays on the side of my head. His hips continue to slowly pull away before slamming into me harshly.
Nate picks up his pace, pulling out of me and slamming back into me in a quick pace. I moan loudly as I grip onto his arm, leaving marks with my nails.
“Who. Fucks. You. Better?” Nate asks, each word between another thrust into me.
“You, god, you Nate!” I scream out.
Nate smirks and lets go of my leg, moving to sit up on his knees, pulling me by my hips and lifting my hips to his. He slips back into me and begins immediately slamming in and out of me at a harsh pace.
“Nate, oh god!” I moan out.
“Just a little longer baby, you can last, can’t you?” Nate teases as he fucks into me.
His hand reaches down to my clit to rubs circles around it. I moan louder as he pumps in and out of me and rubs my clit.
“God, baby I’m so close.” Nate moans.
“Nate, Nate, I’m gonna-“
“Fuck, cum all over me baby.” He says. I oblige without a second thought, cumming all over him as he moans out.
He pumps in and out of me, chasing my high, before pulling out and pumping himself with his hand a few times, cumming on my stomach.
I pant as Nate lays down next to me. He pulls me close to him and kisses the top of my head. “Let me get something to clean you up, baby.” He says and gets up off the bed. He walks to his bathroom and comes back out with a wet, warm wrap. He wipes the cum off my stomach and the wetness between my legs before wiping himself down.
He puts the was in the laundry hamper before laying back down with me on the bed. He pulls me close to his chest and gives me a kiss on the head.
“I wasn’t flirting with him, I swear.” I say after I catch my breath.
“I know.” Nate reply’s
I lift my head up. “Then why were you so mad?”
“He’s the captain of the other team, and he was definitely flirting with you.” Nate kisses me again. “I didn’t want him to take you from me.”
“No one can do that, I love you Nate.”
Nate smiles. He kisses the tip of my nose. “I love you too.”
TAGS: @bernardenjoyer @sturniolosreads @mbbsgf @xxsadlovexx @whicked-hazlatwhore @sturnsgirl @keira324 @stuniolobbg @timmyscomputer @meg-sturniolo @sturnioloenthusiast @nickdevora
#nathan doe x reader#nate doe#nathan doe#Nate doe x reader#Nate x reader#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#chris x reader#sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut#nathan doe smut#nate doe smut#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo smut#nick sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo blurb#matt x reader#matt sturniolo edit#matt sturniolo fic#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo fanfic
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Wake n' Bake**
✨Just horny smut ✨
Warning: Drug use (weed), oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, mentions of sex
WC: 1.4k
You were tingling all over as you made your way from the bedroom to Harry’s music room. You saw your dog shoot up from the warm little square on the carpet where the sun always hit right at noon.
“Chill, s’just me, Jojo.” You said comfortingly to your mini schnauzer. And with that he yawned and laid back down. You giggled and then you giggled some more because you had giggled.
Suddenly you could feel every fiber of the soft carpet on your feet and you were very aware of your eyelashes and of the intense pulse of your pussy. You were fucking wet, it tickled a bit between your lips from the all too easy glide. You hummed in satisfaction as you saw him hunched over the piano.
“Hey baby.” He greeted you before you announced yourself. It was amusing to you that he could sense you, you could sense him too.
“Hiya. What’re you up to?”
“Just…seeing if I have anything good…here…” he said as he looked through scribbles of music notes on those pre-staved sheets.
“Mmmm…”
“Did you just wake up?” He asked and you smiled as you came up beside him and gently scratched at his head.
“Yep. Kinda wore me out last night.” You said and he chuckled.
“That’s what she said.” He mumbled very sarcastically.
“It’s true! My arms feel like noodles! Couldn’t even pick up my water jug.” You complained.
“I told you not to try to match my reps” he said with a smirk, you could hear it in his voice.
“Yeah…” you mumbled. “Hey, look at me.” You said and he turned to you and you smiled. But then he smiled wider, his eyes crinkled at the sides and his dimples carved into the spots beside his toothy grin.
“Are you high?” He asked in amusement and you giggled and nodded.
“I was listening to the new Kacey Musgraves song when I showered the other night and she said something about “wake & bake” and I’ve never done that before and it sounded so fucking nice. So I proposed to myself to give it a try. So I went to the dispensary yesterday and got myself a rapid onset gummy pack and now I’m really, really high.” You explained and he sputtered on a laugh.
“Yeah, I can see that. Your eyes all are lidded and glassy.” He pointed out, “You didn’t eat before?”
“No. Just brushed my teeth and ate it.”
“So it’s gonna be a long while.”
“God, I hope so.” You said and he chuckled. And after he settled you ran your hand down to his cheek and cupped it in your hand. “I had actually come down here for a purpose, not just to be nosy.” You said and he turned you.
“What d’ya need?” He asked sweetly and you smiled a bit.
“I need you to eat my pussy.” You said candidly and he immediately licked over his lips, “Please. I got so fucking horny. Need you to do it, don’t wanna do it myself.” You said and he stood up and grabbed your face and kissed you. It was a sloppy kiss. You were slightly uncoordinated at the moment and he smiled against your mouth as he brought one of his hands down to your shorts. He patted you over your pussy lightly a few times before pushing the center part aside and sliding his fingers right up against your sticky little folds.
“Fuck…” he chuckled in astonishment.
“I know…” you breathed out a laugh and he smiled up at you before pulling down your shorts. You wiggled out of them as he gathered his sheets of music and placed them on a stand just a couple feet away.
“Get on here.” He said patting the bench and you climbed on, “Sit on there.” He said, eying the piano. You listened and then moments later he was adjusting the bench before bringing it up to the keys and plopping down and proceeding to pull your legs apart.
“Baby…” you whined as he gently blew at your sopping little cunt.
“Don’t whine.” He tutted.
“Please… I need you to lick it. Please, Har. Please, baby.” You whined desperately.
“I will, baby. I will.” He appeased you as he got an eyeful of your glistening labia. You were so fucking pretty. Your skin so soft and tender and warm. You smelled nice too, he loved it when he could smell it on his own light beard for the rest of the day until he washed his face at night. You called him gross for it, but he didn’t give a damn. He was proud of wearing you on him like that.
With that image in mind he leaned in and took his first big lick. Bottom to top he laved his tongue slowly, catching every single sensitive bit on you. Your hips stuttered and you hissed as the pleasure rolled through you. It felt more intense now, you could feel the waves rippling down your legs and tickling down your feet. Then he licked over your clit and your head hung back as you moaned softly.
“Yeah baby, right there!” You encouraged him, hips grinding up against him. He wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you closer as he lapped down to your entrance and wiggled his tongue in. The pretty little tip of his nose bumped your clit over and over as his hot tongue plunged inside of you. “Damn…damn, you’re so fucking good, baby. Fuck I’m already getting close.” You rushed out before moaning again. Your tummy was starting to tighten up and he moved away and then sunk two fingers into you without a warning. You moaned and furrowed your brows as he hooked them into your g-spot right away. “Oh god, yes!” You mewled and he groaned before starting to flick at your clit with his tongue.
Your eyes rolled back as your body started to tense up. You felt your thighs and abs quivering, the sounds of his fingers plunging into you slow and deep were getting more and more distinguishable. He then started to suck on your puffy, little clit until your brain spazzed out. You swear you forgot to breathe as the tingles became so unbearable that they burst from deep in your core and out to the rest of your body.
“Fuck, baby! Fuck, baby! I’m coming so hard!” You whimpered, “No! No! Keep going!” you pleaded pathetically when he started to slow down. “Make me come again, daddy! I need to come some more.” You begged and he groaned and went faster.
You started to tremble again as he slurped on your over sensitive clit and fucked you with his fingers until your cum started to drip down his forearm.
“Shit!” He cursed lowly and quickly picked you up to get you off the piano. You whined at the emptiness but moments later you were on the ground and he was burying his fingers back into you and rubbing them around before he started to fuck you again. “Come for me, baby. Give me another one.”
You started to wither moments later. And once again he picked up the pace, going harder than before and next thing you knew, your breath was hitching and you were frozen as the most overwhelming pressure piqued inside of you. Your legs fell open wide and you started to squirt.
“Fuck yeah, baby…good, girl. Make a mess f’me.” Harry mumbled lowly against you as the intense spurts started to dwindle. You immediately started to tremble in over stimulation and he laughed before engulfing your clit between his lips.
“Harry! Fuuuuuck!” You shrieked and he was smiling as your eyes welled up and you squeezed them shut before you started to come. You gasped and writhed and sobbed as he held you down and forced you through that orgasm. “Please…please, I can’t stand it!” You whispered pitifully and he started to lighten up. “Oh my god…thank you. Thank you…” you panted as he lapped at you very gently.
“Course, baby.” He whispered before kissing your mound. He helped you sit up and then pulled you into his arms. His cheek was smushed into your head, “You should get high more. Like how horny you get.” He said snd you giggled.
“Honestly, me too.” You concluded, “Do you want to go have sex? Really erotic sex?”
“Yes, but I wanna be high too.” He said and you smiled. “Can I come inside you?” He asked with a hopeful grin and you pressed your forehead into his and nodded.
“Yeah, I’d really love that actually.” You hummed and he smirked.
“Of course you would.” He chuckled and kissed your head. “C’mon, let’s get back in bed then so I can stuff your slutty pussy full.”
---TAG LIST---
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baby, put your back into it {Farleigh Start/Reader/Oliver Quick}
1/2: i'm gonna talk you through it [SMUT]
Summary: You're the daughter of one of Henrys, and known to be a snobby, entitled Princess of a woman; neither Venetia nor Felix seems to like you. Farleigh, however, claims that you and he have an ongoing arrangement. Felix says that arrangement is that you and Farleigh bitch together, then fuck like wild animals every time you hang out. Turns out you're even bitchier in person, and after a cruel joke played on Oliver by you and Farleigh at the Henrys dinner, he decides to take a bit of power back. Not that it goes as intended... nor that it goes completely wrong.
Need to Know: She/Her. AFAB!Reader. Established FWB Brat!Reader/Brat Tamer!Farleigh
Warnings: PWP!! smut; fingering, oral (F receiving), dirty talk, lots of arguing, reader is very very bratty, demeaning talk, bondage & restraints, explicit discussions around safewords (it does happen a little bit into the action but before anything major), pet name used for the reader "princess"
A/N: 4730 words. okay turns out i can write pwp. i cut out like 1.5k of background and you get the gist of it in the summary. there will be a part 2 thats heavy on the smut, but this trio takes a while to set anything up because they can't stop arguing. hints of farleigh/oliver. this was a lot of fun but again i can't stress how long its been since ive written full, proper smut, so id really appreciate feedback. <3 unedited, i love you.
{ masterpost : 1/2 }
TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)
----
Fucking Farleigh Start. Oliver feels the fury as it burns and bubbles inside of him, stalking quietly through the halls of Saltburn. There, at the end of the hall, Farleigh's bedroom door, quiet and unassuming, and right next to it, Oliver's target; your door. Farleigh isn't the only one in the house who can wrap people around his little finger; he isn't the only one in the house who can get the Princess to kneel.
Trying the handle, he finds it unlocked, and eases the old, wooden door open.
"Farleigh was right," upon hearing your voice, bright, amused, and very much awake in the dark, Oliver jumps, "you're an A-plus lurker, I didn't even hear you come in."
"Was a nasty thing you did to me tonight," Oliver tries to regain some of his composure, some of the ire he'd built up on the way here.
"So you've snuck into my room, I assume you assumed I was asleep, to- what, wake me up and berate me?" There's something smug and biting in your voice, something that fuels the fury coiling deep in his gut, "that doesn't sound like enough for someone like you, tricksie, little, pauper boy." When you start to move from where you've been sitting up in bed, crawling to the end to sit on your knees as the moonlight streaks through your window and finally paints you in sharp relief, he sees you're already nude.
But even your stunning body in the moonlight cannot compare to the look on your face, the sharp, hungry, mean amusement he's never seen a person wear so well.
"Go on then, shout," your eyes shine dangerously in the moonlight; "don't you want Farleigh to hear?" They might have been right. You might be the devil. Your smile gets wider, and Oliver can only watch, rather transfixed, as you start rolling your hips with purpose, "or do you want him to hear something else?" He hears, quietly at first, a soft tap, getting louder as you keep insistently thrusting against the air, against the mattress, the sound of the bedframe hitting the wall behind it, the wall that you shared with Farleigh on the other side.
Then, all at once, you stopped. A loud, mean laugh is pulled from you as you pitch yourself back on the bed, kicking your legs out in front of you to hang off the edge, completely relaxed, completely exposed. You give a loud, amused sigh, looking up at the canopy of the four poster bed.
"God, you're such a little bitch, Oliver, Farleigh was so right," you snorted, "I was the one who actually saw you eating Venetia like your life depended on it, on the lawn of all places," you shook your head, "I don't know what you told Felix to get out of that one but I know what I saw," clicking your tongue, you raised your leg, pointing a foot at him, not even bothering to look at him, "now you won't even touch me in my own bedroom when I'm practically begging for it. I'm choosing to be offended about that; you've offended me, Oliver."
Slowly, your leg lowers, and you kick your heels idly against the end of the bed in the silence.
"Where do you get all your attitude from?" Oliver finally speaks, tone turning scornful as he approached you.
"The money," you fire back with ease, "which is why you always seem to have none." Then, in the furious silence that followed, you grinned sharply at the roof, still not bothering to look at him, "try harder."
When he touches your knee, his fingers gentle against your skin, you kick him hard in the thigh with your other foot -
"The fuck? Did you just kick me?"
"Yeah, and?" He can almost hear you rolling your eyes, "what did you think it was, the wind? Ghost of Grandma Catton?"
"Do you fuckin' want me or not?" He's still standing within kicking range, he learns too late. All the while you've never even looked at him, always looking at the ceiling, hands comfortably, casually behind your head. There's a smug grin on your lips now, something teasing and once more mean.
"Do you want me?" You respond, legs gliding open, an open invitation to your slick, moon-drenched cunt, "I thought you wanted to use me to get back at Farleigh," you said mockingly, finally looking up and meeting his deep, furious gaze. Propped up on your elbows, you give a grin that's all teeth, "wanted to show us who has the real power, that you can get us back for the stunt we pulled after dinner," you sat up further, intense, hungry amusement in your eyes that drew Oliver in to you, leaning in, his hands coming to rest on your thighs as you were almost nose to nose. Your voice lowers, gaze on his lips as your voice turns to almost a moan, "wanted to show Farleigh that you could take anything he thought was his; even me," and you start fake moaning, softly at first, but getting exponentially louder as you leaned back again, against the bed, arching and writhing from nothing, putting on a show that ended with you shouting - "Oliver's a fucking bitch!" At the top of your lungs, and cackling with glee.
Rage exploded within Oliver, and for a moment, overcome with a strange sense of betrayal at your demonstration, he smacks at your inner thigh with all the might he can muster. He can tell it stings, your laughter stops for just a moment, leg flinching up for just a second, but then you're laughing harder if possible.
"Your first mistake - of many - was letting her talk at all," Farleigh's voice from the door is frankly annoyed. You, however, gasp with delight, sitting directly up and looking at Farleigh with absolute glee.
"That's not his fault, I wasn't going to tell him," you pointed out, before looking down at your thighs, and Oliver's hands still on them, and the part of you that must have still stung from the slap, "why is your grip so soft?" You looked up at him with a derisive expression, and immediately Oliver's grip on you goes tight, nails digging into your skin; you're fucking laughing at him again, still, "awe, you're getting there -"
"Could you stop that already?" Oliver leans in, scowling at you. Eyebrows raising in mock surprise, you grinned with devilish intent.
"Stop what?"
"All that fuckin' talking you're doing."
"I don't know, can I -?" But then out of seemingly nowhere, Farleigh sits himself down at the end of the bed next to you, flush against your side. He's still in his crisp, white shirt, and black slacks, looking so put together next to your brash nudity. When his hand comes up to your jaw, barely two fingers beneath your chin to guide you, to have you looking him in the eyes, you have to bite your lip to keep yourself quiet. Both he and Oliver can see how badly you want to laugh, to make any kind of sound, but you hold yourself back.
"Okay, your fucking highness," Farleigh's voice is low and dangerous, full of warning, and Oliver sees you take a sharp breath in, gaze fixed on Farleigh's, "you don't get shit from either of us if you can't keep your dirty mouth closed." Though you nod adamantly, you puff out your cheeks, amusement in your eyes as you're clearly desperate to say something; "what?" Farleigh frowns.
"I have really bad news for you about what I have to do to suck dick," you point out, trying to keep your composure. It's not working, giggles are escaping you at a rapid rate.
"You are testing nerves I didn't even know I had," Oliver admits, desperately trying to sink his nails into you as hard as he could. If he could draw blood, perhaps that would be enough penance for having to endure your infuriating company.
However, it's Farleigh who speaks, lip curling with frustration as he smacks Oliver's hand away from the thigh closest to him. With a solid grip on that thigh, he pulls you leg close to him, forcing your legs wider, exposing you further.
"Then do something about it," he practically orders, and something about the tone sparks a kind of indignation in his chest, "you need me to talk you through it?" He snaps. This, however, quickly turns smug and mean as Farleigh leans in, nose to nose with Oliver and his building frustration with them both; "you know how to eat pussy, right?"
"You should both be very careful what you wish for," Oliver's eyes flash with a dangerous confidence as he sank down on his knees between your legs. You, thrilled and delighted by how the situation was no unfolding, lay yourself back on the bed with contented laughter, hands coming to rest confidently behind your head once more.
Farleigh watches Oliver with intense scrutiny, and for reasons he's not quite sure of, Oliver meets his gaze, refuses to break eye contact. His hand moves first, no longer holding your left thigh, he digs his elbow into your soft inner thigh, bracing his arm against you, forcing your leg further open and keeping it that way, letting him comfortably rest his hand with his thumb on your clit.
"Smart boy," you hum appreciatively, shifting your hips back and forth a little as his thumb is rubbing circles against your clit, "knows where the start button is." He takes his thumb off of you, much to your confusion. His gaze is still locked with Farleigh's. "Fucking hell, are you tired already -?" You sat up on your elbows, scowling at him, but Oliver looks sharply to you.
"Weren't you listening to Farleigh, princess?" Oliver asks, and there's something so deliciously satisfying about the look of flustered surprise on your face in this moment. Beside you, Farleigh huffs a laugh to himself and stands, pulling off his tie. Oliver's full attention, however, is still trained on your. Slowly, as he speaks, he again begins to rub circles against your clit, teasing, never enough proper pressure to be satisfying.
"I -" you started, but he immediately stopped again; out of the corner of his eyes, Oliver sees Farleigh's approving nod. Something about this all has his blood rushing in his fucking ears. You press your lips together, giving him a now expectant look, as if here, I've done what you've asked.
You're so wet, so wanting, ready and waiting, right thigh inching closer, leg curling around him, heel pressing insistently into his back. God you look so fucking good, he wants nothing more than to eat you like a man starving, tasting every inch of you -
"Give me your belt," Farleigh interrupts, and Oliver pauses, mouth literally an inch from your cunt, looking up at Farleigh like he can't quite believe him right now.
"Farleigh!" You exclaim with utter frustration, right leg lashing out to kick him, but he grabs your ankle and holds it tightly. With his free hand he makes an expectant, grabby hand at Oliver.
"Belt, now please." He practically orders.
"Use your own belt, Farleigh," Oliver nods to the belt Farleigh had just tossed to the side of the room, and Farleigh gives him a thin, unamused smile.
"Mine's nicer, and I don't want your cum on it," he explained with a mean, humourless smile. Oliver sat back for a long, furious moment, undoing his belt. The minute his hands were off of you, you tried to whine, but Farleigh, now just in his boxers, sat further up the bed beside you.
"This is overkill, I'll be good," you pouted, twisting to lay your head on his thigh, looking up at him with as pleading eyes as you could manage.
"You're not even being good right now," he pointed out; "both your thighs are over Oliver's fucking shoulders, and you haven't gone thirty seconds without saying something," but clearly you're pleased and flustered at being called out. Farleigh says your name more insistently, and you try and play innocent before he practically orders, "get your fucking legs off of him!" Like he can't quite believe you're still trying these tricks, even though you both seem comfortable in this dynamic.
"Oliver~" Farleigh then practically sings like a warning, gaze turning much colder as it falls back on Oliver himself, "where are we with that belt?"
"What's it for anyways?" Oliver finally pulls his belt free, awkwardly half throwing it to Farleigh, who does actually thank him, before his attention is back on you, bare and warm and wet and - "princess," he says suddenly before Farleigh can even answer his initial question, looking up, and you make a noise of acknowledgement, "you want me to touch you like I mean it, then keep your legs spread like you actually fucking want it," voice going low and sharp, immediately you widen your legs as best you can.
"Oh, he's good," Farleigh says, surprisingly appreciatively, watching as Oliver makes a meal of you.
Finally, finally, Oliver's mouth is on you, tongue gliding playfully along your slit, his nose continually bumping his thumb as it continues to work your clit, firmer this time. You hips wriggle and roll with him, desperate for more, growing frustrated with his teasing lightness.
"The belt can be for several things," Farleigh began, matter-of-factly as he began to loop the belt through itself, focusing on his task at hand, "if she insists on closing her legs, I'm not above using both belts to make sure she keeps them open - this bedframe's especially good for that -" a hot spike of desire passes through Oliver all at once, picturing you bound and open and begging -
"Oh, don't joke about that Farleigh, come on, you know I love that -" you actually whimpered, but Oliver, still keeping in mind the earlier warning, once more stops entirely. You gasp, as if betrayed, before remembering for yourself, actually whining, "you guys fucking suck," you whimper petulantly. For a moment, Oliver wonders if he really aught to be here, if this strange, psychosexual encounter was really worth it.
"You're fucking loving this," Farleigh countered without a moment of hesitation, saying it with such confidence that it almost surprised Oliver, "you just hate that you can't shut the fuck up for any amount of time, and that Oliver isn't actually as much of a little bitch as you thought," clearing his throat, Farleigh cast an evaluative look, before trying to shrug it off nonchalantly, "as either of us thought, I guess."
A moment of quiet stillness passes, and Oliver looks to you, face scrunched up with embarrassment, as all of Farleigh's words apparently rang true.
"Are you hourly, Oliver?" Farleigh then scowls, much to Oliver's confusion. Farleigh looks at him like he's a downright idiot, "the princess is actually being quiet, which means..." he trailed off pointedly. Oliver sat back on his heels, frowning at Farleigh for a long moment, his hands coming to rest on your knees. You, yet again growing incredibly unsatisfied, groaned into your hands.
"Not if you're gonna talk to me like that," Oliver takes a deep breath, sitting tall, gaze unflinching as he meets Farleigh's sneering gaze.
"Then fuck off, Little Orphan Ollie, we don't need you," he spits, "you should really feel lucky that you even got this far -"
"You're all talk, Farleigh," Oliver, with a newfound confidence, and his hands on you, rubbing small, gentle circles against your inner thighs with his thumbs. Farleigh's eyes narrow, but Oliver's smile turns knowing, "I know you can throw her around, and tie her up, and give her orders, clearly," he tips his head ever so slightly to the side, gaze slipping to you, to where you've still got your face covered by your hands, "but we both know no-one can speak for her, but her."
The faint, frustrated whimpering that had been escaping you this entire time goes dead silent. Oliver feels the way you go very still. Farleigh, realising what Oliver meant, also turned to look at you properly.
"'s your bedroom, princess," Oliver leans in, presses a kiss to your inner thigh, murmuring softly against your skin, "what do you think?"
"I think you're edging each other with psychosexual, power-play, bullshit-banter that's doing fucking nothing for me," you snap behind your hands, "and I'm gonna start kicking people again very soon," you warned. Farleigh rolled his eyes.
"Sit up," he sighed.
"No."
"Make a choice," Oliver told you, tone firmer this time.
"Also no." Your voice was sounding particularly petulant, and you even brought your knees together, closing yourself off in front of Oliver. After a long, vaguely irate silence, Farleigh takes a deep breath.
"Is something wrong? Are we at a yellow light? Red light?" He asks, tone far gentler, he leans over, fingers gentle against your hairline by your fingertips.
"Light... colours?" Oliver asks with genuine confusion. Farleigh is far less patient when he turns on Oliver, like he's frustrated to even be explaining this.
"Like a traffic light; instead of a safety word like pineapple, we have green - go, yellow - slow down, red - stop," said like he wanted to include duh, obviously on the end, but refrained, turning back to you.
"And... they're for her?" Intrigued and surprisingly endeared by the concept, Oliver leans forward with a little smile, resting his chin on one of your knees, looking between yourself and Farleigh. He watches you sigh, even with your hands over your face.
"How do you not know how safe words work? What kind of sex have you been having?" Farleigh's judgemental tone hits Oliver square in the chest, but before he can even answer, you finally sit up, expression wide and overwhelmed with frustration.
"Farleigh look at him; he's like if they made repression a person! He's been having the most boring, vanilla sex known to man - if any - and getting off in his spare time to things that would make God cry. Look him in the eyes and tell me I'm wrong -" Farleigh's gaze flicked to Oliver, who suddenly felt himself begin to flush scarlet, and had to sit back again, frowning at his hands. There was something about the shame at being so concisely called out that was... thrilling. Something about how clearly you could see through him, through his persona to the raw want at his very core, it was freeing. You sat up further, with purpose, grabbing Oliver's chin so roughly it shocked him, forcing him to look in your eyes for a long moment.
"You came in here with purpose thinking I was asleep; creepy, hot, deranged; I'm into it," you told him sternly, "I literally could not care less about you otherwise, you're nothing to me the rest of the time. You came here to put me in my place, I don't want you here if you can't do that." Fucking hell, Oliver can feel his heartbeat racing as you shove his face away, your expression almost bordering on disgust.
"So you're..." Farleigh, as if frustrated by this little tirade you saw fit to go on, was unimpressed as he once more checked in.
"Green light, obviously," you threw your hands into the air in exasperation, "it's like you've never met me before -" but before you can slump back against the bed like you so clearly wanted to, Farleigh catches you, shifts behind you to prop you up.
"You're a brat," Oliver says, finally finding the words for the dynamic, and rather charmed by it all. Still, Farleigh has to get a word in edgewise.
"How long 'd it take you to figure that out?" He muttered sarcastically, doing something behind your back while you made a show of struggling and wiggling, refusing to keep your left arm with whatever he was doing.
"So," Oliver clarified, testing out the code, "green light?" You grinned at him, giving a pleased nod. Farleigh, finally having caught your left hand seemingly for good, reiterates the statement distractedly. Then, with a sense of triumph and relief, he pulls the belt, and his makeshift handcuffs, tight.
"Why are you still dressed?" You ask Oliver sharply. You may have had a point, but the game was back on. With your hands secured, Farleigh sat back behind you on the bed, pulling you flush to him, arms secured and pressed between the two of you that was just edging on uncomfortable.
"Why are you still talking?" He mutters into your ear, and he rests his chin on your shoulder, one hand coming to wrap over your mouth, while his other curled around your middle, pulling your legs apart, wasting no time in dipping two long, elegant fingers into you. Your eyes light up, gasping against his hand as the two of you watch with lust in your eyes as Oliver begins to undress.
"The belt," Farleigh's voice has that lazy kind of smugness that Oliver usually hated, but now kind of makes his head fuzzy and kind of like he wants to sink his teeth into him, "is to keep the princess in her place, because someone," he says pointedly, not that you seem to notice; your eyes are closed, and Farleigh's thumb is on your clit while the fingers he has inside of you curl lovingly into your sweet spot, "manages to escape every pair of padded handcuffs either of us have ever bought," he explains, turning his attention back to Oliver, "and she complains about metal handcuffs, and zip ties, has undone every rope knot I've ever tied, and ruined every single tie I've ever tried to tie her up with."
"I bought you new ones," your voice is faint, half a moan muffled behind Farleigh's hand, and Oliver, still unsure of how to respond to any of that, finally turns back to the two of you on the bed. There's something desperate about the way you're arching against Farleigh's firm hold on you, legs having fallen open as your hips rolled in time with his fingers, lewd and needy. But Farleigh's eyes are only on Oliver, watching him with hunger in his eyes, pupils blown wide, gaze roaming over Oliver's physique.
At the sound of your voice, Farleigh's gaze meets Oliver's his smile widening just a touch before he stops entirely. A desperate keening is pulled from you, hips shifting for friction, for anything, as Farleigh rests his hand on your thigh, fingers slick, practically dripping with you.
"No, I'll be good," you whimper, eyes fluttering, half closed, "I'll be -" you were already breathing heavy, "so so good."
"Hear that?" Farleigh murmurs with a vindictive little smile, hand uncovering your mouth, moving to hold your chin, your mouth falling open in a moan as his nails scratch up your thighs. Oliver advances on you both, entranced by the sight of you both, desperate to have a taste, to play along.
"Think she even knows how to be good?" Oliver teases, once more between your thighs. Still, instead of giving you the same kind of proper relief that Farleigh had been offering, he starts out gentle once more.
"Oliver, you're so cruel," you whimper. Farleigh's hand moves from your jaw to wrap around your middle, holding you secure, while the hand that had sat on your thigh moves to your open mouth, Oliver watches, rapt, as he slides both slick digits past your lips, but it shuts you up well enough, lips closing on his fingers as you diligently lap up your own taste from him.
"See, can't trust a word she says," Farleigh purrs. You bite gently on his fingers as you moan, Oliver finally deciding to do more than just tease you. Oliver's fingers are shorter than Farleigh's, but damn if they can't still hit the same high notes. Curling and pressing in a steady rhythm, he alternates dipping his tongue in as much as he can, and circling your clit. Farleigh's hand has moved from your mouth, spit slicked fingers pinching at your nipples, lightly dragging his nails across your skin, while he's started rolling his hips against your back, cock unbearably hard and still confined to his boxers, pressed against you.
You're whimpering and moaning in his ear, straining against your handcuffs, arching, writhing, but Oliver's holding your thighs still and secure and Farleigh is captivated by how enthusiastically he's going down on you, how its shining on his cheeks, his nose - he reaches out, cards his fingers through Oliver's hair. Oliver looks up through his lashes, a fucking gorgeous sight that you're too lost to appreciate. Just for Farleigh.
God he could say something snide, something about sloppy seconds or something about this being the most expensive meal he'll ever have, but he doesn't. He gives a sly, approving smile, and his grip on Oliver's hair tightens.
"Teeth and tongue," he tells Oliver quietly. Oliver doesn't seem to get it at first, but you choke out a whine, arching further into Farleigh, tipping your head against his.
"That's cheating," you gasped, but Farleigh kept running his fingers through Oliver's hair, whose mouth had never left your cunt, nor his eyes Farleigh's face, "you're helping him cheat; you want me to cum this early?"
"You know what's cheating?" Farleigh once more grabbed your chin, angling your head so you could watch Oliver working hard to get you off, "look at him," Farleigh murmurs in your ear, "eyes open, on his," the commanding tone was hard to refuse, and your eyes fluttered open; the fucking sight of him, a mess between your legs, Farleigh's hand in his hair, was almost enough to send you over the edge, "tell him what I mean."
"Gentle- uh, gentle teeth on me- on my-" you desperately tried to string two words together as Oliver began to get more of an idea. Farleigh's hand on his head becoming more insistent, firmer, nose pressed firm against your skin when he finally took the hint, focusing on your clit, sucking and lapping at it, teeth gently teasing as you completely lost the ability to speak. The rhythm of his fingers was consistent and firm throughout it all, pressing just right -
"Keep your fucking eyes on him," Farleigh ordered, almost snarling it into your ear, "I want you to watch Oliver Quick make you cum." But Oliver had eyes only for him, feeling you clench around his fingers, thighs pressing desperately against his shoulder and the hand that had kept them apart, he could feel Farleigh's nails on his scalp and see the heady, smug pride in his eyes.
As you start to come down, breathing hard and heavy and leaning all your weight against Farleigh, you giggle with out of breath contentment.
"Princess's got not manners," Oliver shook his head with an air of disappointment, and Farleigh smirked, brushing some hair from Oliver's forehead before he reached up and tapped your cheek gently.
"Say thank you, Oliver."
"Thank you, Oliver," you grinned, tone surprisingly sincere, as Oliver crawled up onto the bed beside you both. But there's something dark and hungry in his eyes as he watched you both; reaching out, he presses the fingers against Farleigh's lips, your cum coating them like syrup. Farleigh is more than happy to lick them clean, tongue dancing lewdly around Oliver's digits, all kinds of inuendo and promise in his eyes.
Then, Oliver's attention turns on you something dark, hungry, almost deranged in his eyes. He takes your face in hand.
"And you, princess," he says derisively, not even respecting you enough to look you in the eyes in this moment, "this is not your place that I am putting you in," god it almost sounds like a threat, but you're already squirming with want and anticipation, "but we'll get there," he squeezes your cheeks and your mouth opens on command, tongue as pink and wet and desperate as your cunt had been. He spits in your mouth, sudden sneer curling his lip, blue eyes ice cold and demeaning; "and it's thank you, Oliver Quick."
You feel fucking filthy, can taste yourself in his spit.
You want him to do it again.
"Thank you, Oliver Quick."
{ part two here }
#saltburn x reader#saltburn imagine#farleigh start x reader#farleigh x reader#farleigh start imagine#farleigh imagine#oliver quick x reader#oliver quick imagine#oliver quick x farleigh start#oliver quick smut#farleigh start smut#farleigh smut#farleigh start x reader x oliver quick#farleigh x reader x oliver#manic writer
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Tease
You get caught up in a game of seduction with your new housemate Solomon. A game you never announced publicly. But the rules are clear. Whoever can make the other give in to their desires first is the winner. In more ways than one. Who will it be? The sexy sorcerer or you?
Pairing: Solomon x Reader (female)
Genre: smut + fluff
Word Count: 3k
Warnings: 18+, smut, sexual teasing, mentions of mutual masturbation through the bedroom wall, mirror sex, nipple play, fingering, praise, dirty talk, slight over-stimulation. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.
It's a game. A game of who can seduce the other one first. A game of who will give in first to their desires. It has been going on for weeks now. Ever since you moved into Cocytus Hall with Solomon. You can always feel his eyes on you, following you everywhere you go. And you do the same, unable to keep your gaze off the silver-haired sorcerer, who somehow has become even more attractive now that you are so close to him all the time.
Yes, it's part of the game when Solomon flirts with you openly. When he smiles that charming smile and calls you love and darling, and compliments you whenever he can.
Just like it's part of the game when you grin like the Cheshire Cat and call him your boyfriend in front of the demon brothers, with a teasing wink in Solomon's direction and a friendly pat on his thigh.
Solomon tells everyone during dinner that you are very special to him and that the two of you have a very deep relationship, making it sound as if you are fucking on every surface of your shared home. His words are accompanied by a soft touch of his fingertips on your hand that's resting next to your plate. Under the table, you have to press your thighs together as heat throbs in your core.
In turn, you pretend to stumble over the carpet in your living room the next day, landing conveniently in Solomon's lap, where he is man-spreading on the couch, looking so sexy that your panties are already sticky with wetness.
His reaction is a low, breathy whisper,
"Careful, darling. Don't hurt yourself. You're lucky I was sitting here to catch you."
You almost moan when you nuzzle your face into his neck and let your lips brush teasingly over his sensitive skin as you whisper thanks to him. However, your smile is victorious when you feel a tell-tale hardness press against you.
But he resists you, just like you resist him too. No winner is declared tonight. You go to sleep in separate rooms, listening to each other's soft moans carrying through the thin wall, as both of you have a hand between your legs, touching yourself to the thought of the other.
You start dressing in your tightest clothes and shortest dresses, making sure to give your sexy sorcerer something to fantasize about every day.
But you aren't the only one making this game move.
You chuckle softly when you realize that anytime Solomon enters your shared home, he immediately takes off his flowy coat. Revealing his tall, lean muscled figure to you in his tight-fitting black pants and the long-sleeved shirt that shows off his body. You can see every firm muscle. He looks good!
You know he is doing it on purpose. You know it by the way he cocks his head and smiles as if daring you. As if saying, 'Come here and put your hands on me, darling. Don't you want to touch me?'
Your fingers twitch with the almost irresistible urge to just lunge at him and grab those sexy muscles. But you refuse. Balling your fingers into fists and smiling back at him, angelic, sweet, innocent. You will not lose this game!
And so the game continues without any player ever mentioning that it is taking place.
You and Solomon are teasing each other and flirting 24/7, filling the room with so much sexual tension that it is almost touchable.
But never more than that.
Neither wants to lose, it seems. Both of you are ambitious players.
You turn your head to the side and laugh before you are too caught up in Solomon's blue eyes and seductive voice while he caresses your cheek under the guise of brushing away a breadcrumb.
And he gently but firmly pushes you off his lap and off his hard-on with a soft laugh and a good-natured,
"I suggest you get some rest, love, if you are so unsteady on your pretty feet that you trip and fall into my lap.
You know that he knows what you are doing. And he knows that you know too. Both of you seem to enjoy this game of slow seduction immensely. You definitely do. It's addictive to tease and flirt and see how far you can go until Solomon snaps. Until you win.
Ironically, when it finally happens, it isn't even part of your elaborate plan to get some sexy sorcerer dick. It is just you being a forgetful idiot.
You have just finished your long luxurious bath when you realize you forgot to bring fresh clothes.
You are too busy cursing under your breath about having to walk down the cold hallway stark-naked that you don't even see him until a graceful but firm hand closes around your arm.
"Enough is enough, you little tease. What do you think you're doing? You're the naughtiest apprentice I ever had."
Solomon's voice is low, talking slowly, pronouncing every word clearly. The tone of his voice is a seductive mix of stern and amused. His words and the firm grip on your arm leave no doubt. Tonight the two of you will cross that invisible line that you have been tiptoeing around.
Your breath hitches in your throat.
"S... Solomon."
You can feel his tall body pressing against your back now. Firm muscles and potent magic. It's arousing to have him this close. To stand here stark naked while he is fully clothed. A shudder washes over you, accompanied by a pulsing sensation between your legs. You can feel yourself getting wet just from this.
And it only gets more intense when you feel the luxurious fabric of his clothes brush over your skin. When you feel the firmness of his body and his warm breath on your neck as he leans down to murmur in your ear,
"I admit defeat. I can't keep my hands off you any longer. But just so you know, sweetheart. You aren't playing fair."
A light gasp escapes your mouth when the grip of his strong hands tightens on your arms, and he steers you back into the bathroom you just left.
Your heart is beating up to your throat, your mind is spinning, and your pussy is very, very wet. You feel light-headed, almost dizzy from excitement.
Solomon is so strong, so powerful, easily maneuvering you through the vast bathroom. He stops walking, and the firm grip on your upper arms loosens, replaced by his long fingers gently running down your arms. His thumbs graze the sides of your naked breasts, sending shock waves of pleasure through you.
You lift your head and blink. Your breath comes out shakily when you realize where you are. Your reflection is staring back at you from the full-length mirror, eyes heavily lidded, pupils blown wide, and lips parted almost dumbly. Your breasts are enticingly squished together from the way you press your arms to your sides, your nipples erect and so sensitive that even the brush of air makes you moan softly.
You look slutty. Aroused and naughty, standing here in front of the mirror, naked in the arms of the man you desire so badly.
Blue eyes meet yours in the mirror. Solomon's gaze is deep and intense, desire burning unguardedly in those beautiful blue and brown irises. Yet, underneath the desire, you can still see a cheeky twinkle. The same sparkle you have seen every day since your little game started.
You return his intense gaze, sure that he can see how turned on you are. And then his eyes leave yours to slowly trail down further, taking in the sight of your naked body, your full breasts, and all your curves. You gulp when his gaze lingers on the place between your thighs.
Your pulse is fluttering nervously. It's humiliating to be so fully exposed to Solomon's lustful gaze, To be completely naked while he is still dressed, knowing that he is looking at your pussy. The thought alone makes more cream coat your pussy lips.
You make an embarrassing noise, a soft squeak, and turn your face to the side, too ashamed suddenly to look into the mirror and see Solomon's hungry gaze on your exposed body.
A soft laugh fills the room, and strong arms wrap around your waist while warm lips leave a barely palpable trail of kisses over your neck.
"Don't act shy now, darling. Isn't this what you planned? Didn't you want to seduce me? Didn't you want to drive me crazy with your body? It certainly worked."
He pulls you closer to him until your body is flush against his. And you can feel it. You can feel how crazy you drive him. How much he wants you. You can feel his hard cock press against your back, large and hot even through the silky fabric of his neat black pants.
A whine escapes your lips. A sound so needy that it's embarrassing. But you nod and answer him with a breathy,
"Y... yes. That was my plan."
"I have to congratulate you on your win, then. I couldn't resist your charms any longer. Well played, sweetheart."
His voice is velvety soft, warm, and deep, arousal clear in it. But there is also a teasing tone to it.
Soft, warm hands come up to cup your breasts and squeeze them gently.
"Ah, yes, just as I thought. You feel so good under my hands."
Solomon's touch is loving but firm. Long fingers sprawl over your tits, playing with them, squeezing them lovingly, making you moan and let your head fall back against Solomon's shoulder.
Technically you have won. But have you really? You aren't sure who is seducing who at the moment. Solomon took full control over the situation, even though you are the one who was proclaimed the winner. But there is no doubt about who is in charge at the moment.
Maybe it's his natural dominance. Maybe it's his height and strength. Maybe the powerful magic exuding from him. No matter what it is, you are putty in his arms. Your breath comes out in short gasps, your body is melting against Solomon's firm muscles, heart racing wildly, and pussy throbbing with need, so wet that you can feel it on your inner thighs.
Solomon's fingers begin to toy with your nipples, pinching them between two fingers, rolling them gently, teasingly tugging on them until you moan loudly and your eyes close in pleasure.
"Open your eyes. I want you to look at yourself."
Solomon's breath is warm on your neck, and his voice is dripping with desire and smugness. He loves the power he has over you. And you love it too, love being under his spell, trapped in his strong arms.
You sob as you obey his command and open your eyes. What you see in the mirror makes you moan loudly. You see yourself squirming needily in Solomon's arms, lips hanging open as moans spill from them, eyes clouded over by lust. And your nipples are stiff and erect, tits plump in Solomon's strong hands where he squishes them together.
He presses a lingering kiss to the side of your neck, blue eyes watching you admiringly in the mirror.
"Yes, keep looking, darling. Look how beautiful you are. I want you to watch closely. Watch me play with you, my pretty girl."
You whine when his warm, loving hands let go of your sensitive tits. But they only wander further down your body, caressing your sides slowly, while hot kisses trail up and down your neck and the thick hardness trapped in Solomon's pants throbs against your back.
You would make a pact with him right this second just to get his cock inside you. But the only thing you can do is shiver and exhale shakily as skilled fingers caress your hips.
Somehow you know Solomon won't give you the whole package tonight. The game isn't over yet. But you will take everything he is willing to give you. You will collect your prize for your victory by letting yourself fall apart under Solomon's magical fingers.
Those fingers brush teasingly over your inner thighs. They graze lightly over your wet slit. And you gasp loudly, pussy creaming up even more, hot and slick against Solomons exploring hands.
"Let me see all of you, my love."
Your gaze is glued to where Solomon's firm fingers spread your pussy lips open, exposing your glistening wet clit and folds. You are dripping with arousal, your cunt giving away just how much you crave the gorgeous sorcerer.
A low sexy moan is coming from him, and he rolls his hips against your ass, pushing his large cock against you, letting you feel how hard he is for you.
"Oh fuck, look at you. Look at my pretty girl and her pretty pussy. So beautiful and so wet. Let me take care of that pretty pussy for you."
Two fingers find your puffy clit and rub slow circles around it, spreading your cream over it, making your hips buck and your mouth part with loud moans.
Solomon's breath is hot on your neck as his soft low moans join yours. His fingers keep flicking your swollen bud, gentle and slow. And maybe he is really working magic on you because nothing has ever felt so good as Solomon's hands on your body, on your tits, and your pussy.
You gulp hard as you observe yourself in the mirror, watching yourself spread your legs sluttily for Solomon. Watching him rub your needy pussy so expertly that you are a shaking, whining mess.
"Yes, just like that, darling. Look how beautiful you are. You're doing so well. You're such a good girl for me."
You don't know whether it's the praise coming out of Solomon's mouth in that sexy raspy tone or whether it's the way he rubs and pampers your clit, that makes you sob loudly. You are already so embarrassingly close to cumming.
Solomon pushes two fingers inside you, making you see stars. It's like he is using his magic on you, like it is inside you, filling your pussy, making it throb with a kind of pleasure you haven't known before. He fucks you with his fingers, deep and good, while his other hand massages your clit.
Your eyes close as you give yourself completely to the sexy sorcerer, leaning on him, your head resting against his firm chest, legs spread for him, moaning his name while your cream is dripping down his long fingers.
"Keep your eyes open, sweetheart. Watch me pamper that cute pussy of yours."
What you see is a total horny wreck. Your tits bounce sluttily from how hard you ride Solomon's fingers, so desperate to cum. The noises that fall from your parted lips are obscene, loud, needy mewls and sobs, but they almost get drowned out by the loud squishing noises of your overly wet pussy.
Solomon's fingers push against that sweet spot deep inside you, making your hips buck wildly. You are almost crying by now from how good it feels, getting on your tiptoes, body so ready to cum all over those gorgeous fingers, needily chasing after your high.
"Solomon!! Oh yes, yes, right there! Ah!! I'm gonna...I'm gonna..."
"Mmmh, I know, darling, I know. Show me how pretty you look when you cum all over my fingers."
You fall apart right then and there, crying out brokenly as your hands grab Solomon's arms, digging your nails into them as your orgasm overtakes you, long and hot, with a dizzying force. Your pussy spasms around Solomon's fingers, body shaking, loud cries falling from your lips. You feel hot all over, your face, your whole body, but most of all, your pussy. It's almost too much, too intense.
You are trembling and sobbing, clawing at Solomon's wrists, but he stops you,
"Shh, let me take proper care of you, just like you deserve."
And he keeps fucking you with those talented fingers, slower now, while his thumb plays with your over-stimulated clit, gradually slowing his movements to slow, gentle caresses. But he doesn't stop until he has rubbed every last wave of orgasm out of you.
When he finally pulls his fingers out of you, he lets them trail over your puffy clit, making your hips buck one last time before you collapse bonelessly against Solomon, resting your full weight against his firm body, but he doesn't even stagger.
Your breathing is ragged, and your pussy is pulsing with the heavy aftershocks of your orgasm. You lift your head to look at Solomon's beautiful face in the mirror. His cheeks are flushed, and his blue eyes are dark with desire. But the teasing smile is still on his face as he brings the fingers you just came on to his lips and slowly licks them clean, rolling his eyes in pleasure as if your taste is the most delicious thing the self-proclaimed gourmet ever tasted in his long life.
A delighted smile spreads over his face. And with that, Solomon steps away from you, strong hands steadying you, making sure you can stand on your own before he lets go of you.
"If you will excuse me now, please. I have to take care of an urgent matter."
He winks at you and gestures to the big bulge in his tight black pants.
"I can help you with that, darling."
"I know, but not today, sweetheart. Some dishes get even better when you let them simmer for a while."
He grins at you, and you find a matching smile tugging at your lips. Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out,
"Hey, Solomon?"
"Yes, (y/n)?"
"I didn't plan this... I really forgot to bring a change of clothes."
Blue eyes blink at you for a moment, and then loud laughter fills the room. Solomon is shaking from it, holding his stomach as he grins broadly at you.
"Still, congrats on your win! But don't think the game is over yet. This was only the first round. Who knows, maybe I will win the next one."
Thank you so much for reading! This is my first time writing for Solomon. I just couldn't resist anymore!! He has been one of my faves for a while already, and ever since we moved in with him in Nightbringer, I am constantly spinning more and more out of control aaaaaah I want him so bad!!!
I hope you enjoyed this little story and that my characterization was ok. I decided that as a fellow Sagittarius, Solomon surely loves a little game where he has to chase the object of his desires and gets chased in return. It makes things so much more exciting :) There might be another part someday. I mean, as Solomon said, the game is still on, and we still need to get that sorcerer dick ;)
Please let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs make me happy!
#solomon x reader#solomon smut#solomon x mc#solomon x you#obey me smut#obey me fluff#obey me x reader#obey me x you#solomon obey me
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PERV!FELIX HEADCANONS++ 18+MDNI
i only ever see fluffy felix headcanons & ive been DYING to write something like this so i hope everyone likes it??
it’s perv felix(skz), don’t like dont read.
WORD COUNT:564
any comments/ re blogs are deeply appreciated
main masterlist here
Perv!Felix who has been your roommate for the past 2 years & been your best friend for the past 4.
Perv!Felix who developed a crush on you after you moved in together for college. It started innocently at first but he couldn’t help but stare as your shirt would ride up your ass when you were doing something mundane or even just sitting on the couch without a bra, he can’t help but stare at your hardened nipples as you are sat next to him, unaware.
Perv!Felix who would sneak into your bedroom while you were showering to go through your dirty clothes basket & find a pair of used panties before running back to his room & hiding them(he has a full collection) ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS denies knowing where they are when you ask him, realising your panties keep disappearing, especially your favourite ones.
Perv!Felix who jerks off with your panties in his other hand while he fantasises over you on top of him, riding him, grinding your swollen clit against his trimmed pubes for that extra bit of pleasure, coming completely undone on top of him, he also imagines him in-between your gorgeous thighs, licking, slurping, kissing & spitting all over your pussy & nibbling at your clit while he fingers you in all the right spots.
Perv!Felix who puts your panties into his mouth as he cums all over his tummy(literal fountain of cum btw) due to the taste & smell of you. Will overstimulate himself for HOURS OR edge himself just so he can taste you for that little while longer.
Perv!Felix who takes sneaky pictures of your ass or tits when you’re not looking(or so he thinks). He will ask you to grab something for him (even better if it’s something high up) just so when you go to grab it, your shirt rides up to expose your plump ass long enough for him to take a picture before saving it & quickly putting his phone away
Perv!Felix who likes to initiate play fighting or cuddle sessions just as an excuse to touch you. He spends a bit longer than usual caressing your soft skin while cuddling & likes to wrap his arms dangerously close to your tits, always right above or right underneath them. He likes to cup your face but have half of his hand leaning on your jawline & neck just to touch you in a more intimate area while asking if you’re okay(he KNOWS he didn’t hurt you at all while play fighting)
Perv!Felix who would always have his room quiet at night just to hear you masterbating, pinching your puffy clit, twisting your pretty nipples & using your favourite vibrator while releasing the most beautiful moans from your lips, not knowing felix can HEAR you(or do you…) Felix takes his phone out & puts it up to the wall that separates your bedrooms & presses record, just so he can keep it for later & add to his collection(of hundreds of items of you)
Perv!Felix who would purposely wipe tiny parts of his cum on the inside seams of your favourite jeans, shirts & underwear just so he can get the satisfaction of you WEARING him, his cum, unknowingly. He gets a kick out of knowing only HE knows a part of him, that came from INSIDE him, is being worn by you.
#stray kids#skz scenarios#skz x reader#skz fanfic#skz headcanons#skz smut#skz felix#lee felix#felix#stray kids felix#hyunjin#bang chan#lee know#changbin#han jisung#seungmin#jeongin
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iv. a date missed is a date lost
joel miller x f!reader | chapter four of honey stained hands
chapter summary: when you don't make it back from patrol, joel doesn't think for a second about not going to find you.
wordcount: 4.8k
warnings: typical canon-angst/grief. angst. canon-level violence (desc of injuries and blood, but nothing insane). reader is a bad ass. injury/comfort — and from Joel. joel calls reader honey (because she bakes). mentions of brief smut. this pair are together but won't admit it. joel is pissed and we love him for it. talks of readers grief (you lose someone from before but not many deets)
an: for those who waited, thank you. to those who have just stumbled here: hello, you don't need to take off your shoes.
In time, daylight begins its gradual retreat, casting shorter shadows and making flashlights more of a necessity in the nighttime.
The blankets of white persist, marking winter’s icy caress across rooftops, the ground and anything else it can layer itself against.
At one point, fairy lights go up and then come back down. Briefly twinkling like scattered stars before eventually returning to their storage—time ticking on, days seeping into weeks, then months.
There comes a moment when the snow falls heavier, then thins, only to fall again in abundance, dousing the world as far as Joel's eyes can see.
But, the biggest change Joel notices, is that he begins to dream a lot less of you. No longer a distant fantasy but a tangible presence beside him, a reality woven into the fabric of his days.
He doesn’t need to think you up, you’re already there. Curled against him—facing him—hand under your cheek as you breathe in and out, soft and measured. Like this, you don't appear as a threat to the world, but he knows when awake what you’re capable of.
Just like he knows, deep down, this isn’t just neighbourly friends or nightcaps on the porch—or better yet, occasional sex to pass the time. Even if it all began as such.
It may have started as a carnal need, a teeth-sinking, nail-digging desperation. All akin to a time when he was a teenager, both of you waiting for the door to click shut behind Ellie—as she heads to a friend’s house—before he’s on you, pulling a giggle, a soft shriek of his name before you’re scraping and stripping him until he’s hardening in your hand, mouth or against your thigh.
Lately, it’s soft brushes of thumbs, mouth grazing over exposed skin and whimpers of his name; now, it’s a look—a quiet retreat, slow mornings and lazy nights. Your fingers find purpose on his cheek, eyes seeking his as he buries himself deep, making your mouth part in an O—just as he always does.
Too good for me, Miller.
You’re too sweet for me, honey.
A joke. A tease that should be getting old, but isn’t.
Then, your things found themselves with his—or his with yours.
A jumper on his floor, his shirt hung on the handle of your bedroom; his guitar relocating as he does, sometimes against his bedroom wall, and sometimes against yours.
It became morning walks to the pen as he left for patrol and him meeting you at the gate, each time a little different. There are evenings of him arriving home to find you there, cooking—Ellie next to you, nodding, listening to instruction; then there are those where he sits in solitude, counting seconds until he thinks he can invite himself over.
There was even a progression to how the two of you left the bar, when things began to mean more. At first, you had just walked next to him. The next you brushed your fingers against his and the third he found you leaning into him, following him, not even pretending to go home and choosing to follow him inside his.
Truthfully, he’s not sure there’s a reason the two of you live in different houses—even if they’re side by side. Pretending there’s no concrete explanation, even if it lingers in the back of his mind. It rears its head when the night creaks in, rotting in a corner of his mind, a thought he should ponder over, pluck strings to until it makes sense—until he rationalises whether he can do it. Love, that is.
He’s ‘changed’, according to Tommy. Although, he’s not sure what that means. It’ll add to the pile, one he has to sort through but never does. Content with it, the things that weigh him down, deep down knowing he’s worthy of it—because his hands are stained even if they don’t appear as such.
Then, you’ll do something. Hand him a tin of shortbread, a smile—all wicked, and unwilling to be read—spreading and spreading. “It’s not a gift—it means nothing.”
“Whatever y’tell yourself.”
And then he’s confused all over again.
Whether it’s possible, whether he’s earned it—deserving of another chance. A twinge of pain when he remembers long hair against his neck in Boston, and the way her hands were as blotted as his.
You’re not her, but you’re smudged in your own way. Made of something entirely different, yet born from a similar pain he can see. You rose from the marshes, bones hardened thanks to the branches—grew strong from the soil and dirt. You’re one with nature in a way that made him wonder if the wind talked to you.
A thing he admires, the same way he does about a lot of things.
He supposes it would be easier, and simpler.
Not just loving you but having you here. You and your fire that warms all it touches, your kind disposition that you pretend not to have, but it rolls from you in plenty.
Less traipsing from home to home, less of him misplacing his things amongst your counters and sitting in your kitchen as you bake, only to take the treats with him next door, his fingers inside yours.
And, even if two of you are unwilling to put a name to the thing they are. We’re adults, Joel. We don’t need that, do we? It wouldn’t be terrible—a thing he rather likes. But, he likes it more that you don’t feel the need for it. Because in an ocean of complexity, you’re the thing that makes sense—the one thing he understands.
Doesn’t need to turn over much except what’re you thinking, what ticks behind your glazed eyes and whether the seconds you linger at the red toolbox are shortening or if he’s just becoming used to it—
“Joel, is that—oh my fuck…”
Your hands grasp at the VHS in his hand—fingers turning it over, that line appearing on your forehead that tells him you’re thinking, catching up to the actuality before it’s been told to you.
“Evenin’ to you too—”
“—What did you trade for this?”
Shrugging, he shoves his hand into his jeans—the ones that have grown tighter, barely able to fit the same hand that it used to, comfortably.
“Joel.”
Scratching the back of his neck, he sighs. “Y’think you wanna watch it with me?”
Licking your lips, you place it down on the counter, face blank, fucking unreadable. “What, like a date?”
Shrugging, he smiles. “Would that be terrible?”
“No, suppose it wouldn’t be.”
Nudging you, he likes how you paint him in a laugh. Something rich, warm.
“I’ve got patrol—but, can freshen up, come round after?” you suggest, hand on his chest. “You don’t sleep without me anyway.”
And he nods. Already mentally beginning to count down, watching you smile, ticking his jaw from side to side.
“I’d wipe that.”
“What?”
Licking your lips, you smirk. “The smile—people will think you’re soft.”
“No, they won’t.”
“Will if I begin spreading it.”
He just pinches you on the ass.
In the whole of his life, there have been only six times when Joel’s blood ran cold.
An expression he'd never understood until the first time it happened.
He had never expected the saying to mean a chill blasting down his spine. Or that sounds and scents would blur to nothing as his stomach twisted, just like he never anticipated the prickling sensation spreading across his skin like a thousand icy needles and rendering everything else inconsequential in comparison.
Tommy had been the first, all little, barely the same height as the kitchen counter. Nose bloody, swollen upper lip and a look on his face that made Joel want to snap arms and break skulls. He had settled for breaking the nose of the kid who had picked a fight with his baby brother.
The second was far worse—the first time Sarah first got ill. All little coughs, splutters—a temperature hotter than a stove, harsh cries and soft pleading whimpers that she couldn’t articulate or describe. A helplessness he hadn’t been able to explain or shake, not in the days after, or the weeks and months. In truth, Joel isn’t sure he ever slept quite the same.
The third was that night. When it dawned, when it hammered into him like a thousand needles and pierced every single part of who he was. When it broke him. Snapped him. Made him come apart and yet still exist—kneeling, the blood growing gummy and cold. Leaving her there, not taking his baby girl with him. A part of his heart, soul and reason left there in tall grass as he was forced to put one foot in front of the other.
The fourth had been when Tommy had left—when he’d realised it. When he saw the life he had and wondered what the fuck had happened. It bled horribly into the fifth. A dread as he saw the mark, the bite—the realisation she would be taken too: Tess. The new normal he’d made coming undone too, seams burst, emptiness spreading, rising and rising until he felt nothing but fire and ice simultaneously.
Ellie in that hospital had been the sixth. Joel hadn’t even known he could experience another. His heart was not made of iron like he tried to convince himself when he was younger. A tightness that didn’t resolve until he held her in his arms, till he kept her safe, until he blazed through the building ripping and tearing until her pulse was against his fingers.
He’d never expected to feel it a seventh.
Had thought his cards had all been dealt. A person could surely only have so many chances at having things to love, to care for—to have it all received back too.
There’s not a single sound when Tommy tells him. Informs him.
There’s just ringing. It douses everything else, his fingers rubbing against his thumb, his knees cracking before his head catches up to the fact he’s standing, fingers clenching and unclenching.
A fire rising, not smothered—not willing to be snuffed out by action and thinking. Not as he sees the words being said, confirmed.
Because deep down he’d known what was coming before they were muttered. Had felt them.
He’d been aware your plate was no longer warm, steam no longer rising, food all but congealing, cold—practically unedible. His eyes had been pinned to the clock on the wall, to the way the big hand nudged the smaller one on.
He hates that he hesitates.
That he remains, feet planted to the floorboards of his home. Eyes flicking to Ellie, to this person he swears to protect, to be there for, a second chance amongst a graveyard of mistakes—
“If you don’t go after her, I’ll never forgive you.”
Strong words. But then, she’s strong.
He’s seen it when she talks to you, all hushed whispers and confessed secrets. Sees it in her shoulders even when she curls into your side for a half-hug, your arm sliding around, head resting on the top of hers.
Because you mean something to Ellie too.
Which is why he can’t remain—shouldn’t. All unwilling to let anyone talk him into waiting, for a plan to be devised, to be drawn up and communicated.
Because you wouldn’t. There’d be nothing that’d keep you back, from going, from doing.
We’re doers, me and you, Miller. We don’t wait around for people to decide, we act.
Each step seems to echo that with his sorrow—with that knot inside of him. The corners of his eyes narrow as anger shakes through him, hammering and solidifying itself in some corner of him—weighing him down, making his boots dig more intently into the snow.
Because you were right—knuckles brushing over his cheek when the two of you shared a sliver of what happened to you that day. It had changed him, that birthday all those years ago. A brief glance at his watch, the one he still wears, never forgotten, never fixed. It compelled him to action, a force that surged within him, driving him forward, taking and taking until his knuckles burst through flesh—becoming it, a doer, a thing which took and survived.
Maybe that’s why this keeps happening.
Why good keeps being taken from him? It’s never thieved, never sneakily tugged from under his nose, but rather openly and brazenly taken. It’s this that forces his hands to clutch the reins tighter as the cool wind whips past him, tracing the tracks, envisioning the exact route you would have taken. Only coming to a stop when the snow becomes undisturbed, dismounting with a groan.
It makes a lump rise in his throat. One that doesn’t vanish when he begins tying the horse to a tree—patting her and stroking her. Because he’s too old for this. Too old for the caring, the chasing, the losing, and the fear. His palm against the animal, feeling the heartbeat inside, grounding him for just a moment.
But, even if he is, he’s not letting it, them or whatever take you.
Not as he pulls on gloves and tilts his neck until it cracks. Not as he thinks about the last time he was out here with you—a treat, you’d called it: we’ve swapped partners for the day. Don’t make me go alone, Miller. As if he ever would. A thing which earned him a different kind of gasp when your spine met a tree trunk, gloves fingers sliding through his hair, a laugh there on your lips—desperate to greet the air, if not for his lips smothering it away, silencing it.
He replays it.
Desperately wanting for nothing more than for that laugh, that smile—that snark and its bite. Joel wants bark under his nails and for it to be finding a home under yours too—a reminder, a badge of honour. He wants nature to attempt to cover up the sound of his skin slapping against yours; wants the wind to try and compete with the moans he extracts from your throat.
He wants.
He wants.
He wants.
Hand tightening around the gun, he swallows—vision whitening in the corner of his eyes as his jaw tightens.
A figurative storm cloud rising above him, grey and thundering, cracking as he hears you say don’t sleep without me anyway on repeat. Over and over. That smirk carved into him, scraped in with sheer gut and will.
Then, he replays Tommy. The words which are supposed to bring comfort, but just bring more rage. “She’s good, Joel” doesn’t bring you home, the same as “He’s good—one I know can pull his weight”, because is he as good as him? As good as you?
Is the man who is meant to have your back as much of a monster as him—as the two of you?
He learns in half a mile that he wasn’t. An answer left, presented—all lit up in scarlet. Neck snapped. Anger let loose on the man who had smiled at him around and about. Gone. Left to decompose and erode.
Joel wonders what it says about him that he feels nothing when he removes the weapons from the man’s belt. Taking what he can before leaving, and continuing on.
At each step, he hopes you’re as good as he thinks you are. Each breath heaved from Joel’s chest he hoped you were still beating, it hanging in the frigid air in front of him, a visible reminder of the feeling he had forgotten about—allowed himself to forget—fear.
How it isn't just about dread, but rather the erosion of faith—a corrosion of belief, leaving him almost gasping for air. There’s a curse there too, simmering on his tongue, desperate to be released and breathed into the oncoming night as he ties another thread around an extended branch. Doing so every so many steps, a guide, a trail for someone else to follow—just in case, forever just in fucking case.
His arm bumps into a tree he passes, one adorned with delicate frost, stood like a sentinel, like the rest around it. Its branches reach out in frozen pleas to the heavens above as snowflakes descend from his bump, a thing falling in a way not too dissimilar to the unrest inside of him, stirring and swirling and all but fucking churning.
Jaw gritted, he swallows. Readying himself to move, to force himself on when he sees it, spots it. The thing you’d once showed him all intentionally.
From the outside, the cabin looks like it usually does.
Worn, broken—far less a structure and more a ruin. But, he knows without opening the door it’s hiding things, concealing unfamiliars and protecting traitors. He can tell.
And it is when he steps inside. Just none of them are breathing.
A full house of horrors. A museum of a fight that hadn’t gone the way, the three he finds in the larger room, would have wanted. One slumped against the wall, a head wound seeping and congealing. The other two lie askew, limbs twisted in ways they shouldn't be. There's a quiet chaos to the scene, a silent testament to a struggle fought with everything at stake.
He checks them all the same, dispatching, covering his back—stepping carefully over loose floorboard and limbs, eyes scanning, all desperately seeking.
Deep down, he’s relieved at the sight of the fallen attackers. A grim confirmation you did not go down without a fight. But another part, one that has been growing with each passing second, is filled with dread, more so as he moves further into the cabin, each step heavier than the last.
The air is stale, tinged with the metallic scent of blood. A scent he's all too familiar with. Following, only to find the next room there’s nothing. Not a thing. Nothing but the door—the one you’d mumbled about being difficult to open—is banging in the breeze. A thud, over and over, like the cabin has a heartbeat that wishes to ring out, and out, and out.
That’s when he finds your note. The singular reason he can hold out hope you’re still alive. Chicken-scratch-proof into pages of a book, your knife stamped as a signature to the backdoor:
compromised, do not look fo—
Joel has never been much of a listener.
Not as he charges outside, not as he sweeps around the new ground with his weapon at the ready. He barely has to look far, before he spots something—a thing out of the ordinary in a clump out at the back.
You. Joel finds you.
You are all but surrounded by clumped white and cherry red, sprawled out on the ground, spots of dark beneath you—a gash on your forehead, blood smeared across your face. The contrast is so rich that it could almost be described as poetic. Somewhat romantic, he supposed. That’s if the poets lingered on the snowflakes hanging from your lashes, instead of the gash to your forehead and the swelling forming along your neck.
But you're breathing. Barely.
His teeth bite at the tips of his gloves, slapping fingers to your pulse, finding it, weak but there, before brushing his knuckles and finding cold skin making him hiss.
You’re smart. A reckoning, a feral monstrous thing that is hard to describe to someone who hasn’t seen you take down a soul twice your size.
Joel liked to tell himself he kept you around for that reason—the fire, the poison woven into your veins that injects into whoever is foolish enough to cross you. But Joel keeps you around for the person you accidentally show him—the one that makes him feel human, less of a beast and someone who has taken, taken, taken.
It’s your grit, your cunning nature, which is why it’s taken him so long to find you. His chest tightened when he was greeted by the scent of iron, all thick—collecting in rooms where you’d fought tooth and nail.
Now, he was standing in the cold piles carved by knees and elbows, your slumped frame, curled as close together—defeated, likely having been convinced you’d never be found before the cold tried to take you as its victim.
But, you’re no victim. No woman who wishes to repent for how you’ve survived or the things you’ve done to breathe easier.
It’s why Joel lifts you, pulls you close—face curling into his neck from the position you fall into, as he’s chilled to the bone by your cold.
“If y’can hear me, hold on.”
He adjusts, even as his back winces—something pinching, hurting, throbbing in the position he’s in on the snow. Hating his age about as much as he hates his bones.
That’s when he whispers your name. Does so like it’s a secret, a thing the forest and the things inside of it aren’t privileged to hear. A thing entrusted to him that he wishes no one else to hear or ever know.
“M’here.”
It’s a mumble. A murmur. The softness barely escapes through clenched, almost chattering teeth—but then your flashes flutter, coated in flakes that shimmy down to your cheek as you attempt to open them.
“Eyes on me—there you are.”
“Stop being c-cute.”
Grimacing, he watches you try to smile—weak, it barely reaching your cheeks, never mind your eyes. “Don’t think anyone's ever called me cute, honey.”’
“Never t-thought someone be storm-m-ing through a forest for me—first time for…”
Looking down, he sees your lashes fluttering, eyes struggling to stay open. Lips still parted around the next word that had yet to fall.
Tapping your cheek, he feels how cold you are. Even here. In nothing but warmth and safety. And he hates that he has to ignore how concerning that is. How hard it is to swallow that you are.
“Don’t stop talkin’ to me now. Might like the silence.”
He feels you laugh. Vibrating against him. More a hiccup than a real laugh, but it’s something.
“I fought—”
“Know you did.”
Nodding, you swallow, cough spluttering in the back of your throat.
"Y' did... y' did real good," he assures, voice thick, chest aching at the sight of you—so strong, yet looking so small and vulnerable against him.
"Did... did I get them?"
Your words are slurred, consciousness fleeting—tiredness trying to sneak you away from him.
"All of 'em," he assures, his grip tightening around you, "Every last one."
He can't be sure if you hear him, your eyes fluttering shut once more.
But he keeps talking, filling the silence with a low, steady stream of words. Comforting nothings, promises of safety, of warmth, of a congealed meal and the VHS. Even as your grip on his hand slackens, your breaths become more shallow, more sporadic. Even when he feels a cold dread creep into his heart, he pushes it away, and focuses on you—on keeping you with him.
"Stay with me," he murmurs, adjusting you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you groan against him when he lifts you with him, "Just a little walk, alright."
The snow crunches under his boots as he carries you back up the path he came, leaving a trail behind. Even in finding you, he knows victory tastes bitter on his tongue—a price too high to pay.
"Y'need t’make it, can’t watch that movie alone."
You snort. It is very much there, before it’s buried—engulfed under a whine of pain as you stand up fully.
Can’t. It’s one word, but it’s louder than all the others you’ve spoken, shared—and given. So, he wraps his arm securely around your waist, leading you, taking as much of your weight as he can.
Joel holds you, clutches you against him—a brief flowering of memories from doing something so similar for Ellie. A thought which brings fresh anger, a bitterness to his tongue. Holding tighter because of it, grips you closer—as though his life depends on it.
Because in a way, it does—a part of him acknowledging that now.
More so as you groan, as you plead to stop in harsh whispers as you grip him weakly, as your foot flops occasionally, legs tired, aching.
It’s not until he’s managed to bring you inside, do you murmur again. Nothing full, nothing understood until he’s removed his coat and wrapped you in it, helped lean you against a wall do you say anything more than a groan.
“Tired.”
Hands encased in his, Joel warms them, as the moon bleeds tendrils in through slats and the half-made window. “I know. C'mon, stay with me.”
Your eyes flutter open, glazed and barely focusing on him. "I'm...trying," you whisper, your voice barely audible.
"Good," he murmurs, stroking your hair back from your forehead. "That's all I need. Just...keep trying."
His head turns, looking through the window, seeing the placement of the moon, and wondering if it’ll be morning before someone comes—before someone follows and helps. Just mumbling about anything, joking it’s the most he’s talked, doing so in a voice that mocks your own, doing something, anything to try and keep you awake—keep you warm.
"I should've been there. I should've..."
He doesn't finish the sentence. Doesn't need to.
The regret, the guilt, it's all there in his voice, in his eyes. And you squeeze his hand feebly, your eyes fluttering open to meet his gaze. "Not...not your fault, Joel."
He nods, swallowing hard. "I know. I just...I wish I could've..."
“He made it. This place,” you begin, voice low, barely a breath.
Your eyes focused on some floorboard, not leaving, unwilling to lift to him, even as his head tilts.
“Came out all the time with that red f-fucking toolbox,” you continue, swallowing, wincing as you use your shoulder to itch your cheek.
“He was just a neighbour, a person I knew the first name of. Then he was a-all I had, a friend, then family—a b-brother. I’d… I’d never… and then he was just… gone. Survived all those years, survived all of that, only for s-sleep to take him as soon as we got here.”
Your eyes lift, haunted by sorrow, by exhaustion and something so much more.
And he has no words—not enough for this, none enough to make any of this make sense or feel better.
“I saw him. I—I know he’s gone, know it wasn’t real, but I just closed my eyes, just so I could see him again. And then…”
Your words trail off, a choked sob taking their place as you curl into yourself.
A sound so full of brokenness it makes something inside of him shatter a little, more so when Joel feels you pull your hands free, all rough and worn, clutching around yourself, at the material of his coat—gripping so tight it’s almost as if you’re trying to hold yourself together.
“You think he’d be mad that you saved me—that I’m g-glad you saved me?”
Swallowing, he cups your cheek with his palm. “I think if he’s anything like you, he’d be glad you fought.”
Nodding, you smile, the base of your palm wiping your tears as your lip wobbles. “Can y-you hold me?”
Nodding, he shuffles, and buries a groan in his throat as he manoeuvres a man his age shouldn’t, until he can, until he is. Having you as close as you’ll humanly fucking let him.
Which is how you’re found—a cavalry of those from Jackson, a mixture of surprise and relief etched into their faces when they land on the two of you.
When he suspects they land their eyes on you, and realise, like he did, that you’re the owner of the destruction in the room next to you all.
CHAPTER FIVE ->
AN: next chapter will be quicker i promise, but no strict deadline on when as posting / stepping back into this was a lot.
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x you#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x female reader#joel miller fanfic#joel miller fic#pedrostories#pedro pascal characters fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#the last of us fanfic#tlou fanfic
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