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#wildest dreams fic
atlas-of-a-human-soul · 2 months
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Wildest dreams, pt. 32 (Paul Lahote)
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Summary: Rebuilding their relationship is slow, but worth it. They struggle to find their footing as life goes on, sharing what's on their mind and weighing on their hearts.
Warnings: angst, fluff, sexual innuendos, swearing, GRAPHIC depictions of death and blood
Wildest Dreams Masterlist
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It’s been a few days since Paul promised he’d ask Y/N’s permission to host a birthday dinner. Daisy has texted him at least a dozen times by now, demanding details he cannot provide. Some would say he’s afraid to ask, but that’s not the core issue here. The key to this puzzling silence on his behalf lies in the way Y/N is sitting on his lap, running her soft hands over his as she lathers them in sweet-scented hand cream. A soft smile lingers upon her supple lips and her eyes shyly shift to his curious ones so often he’s barely able to keep his composure. All he wants is to taste her again, to feel her responding to his advances the way she once did – hungrily, unapologetically, wildly, and often. There were days he was concerned about how often she initiated sex…he missed those days. And now when they’re rebuilding intimacy brick by fragile brick, Paul isn’t all too happy about it being put at risk because of Daisy and her inability to give others space.
“You’re staring,” she raises her left eyebrow.
“How can I not?”
Biting his bottom lip, Paul suppresses a smile. Seeing it as a challenge, Y/N cups his cheeks. Brushing the tip of her nose against his, she grins as he releases his tortured bottom lip a shade darker, lightly swollen, and kissable…so incredibly inviting.
“Now who’s staring?” Paul teases as his hands grip her hips.
“How can I not?” She mimics. “You’re incredibly beautiful and you’re mine.”
Unable to resist, Paul’s lips spread in a smile she’d been craving. She can see how it came from deep inside to light his eyes and spread into every part of him. When she lost her sparkle and stopped smiling, his faded as well. It’s truly rewarding to make an effort to get better when it reflects so perfectly in Paul.
“I am.”
“Mine?”
“Incredibly beautiful,” he exclaims, evoking a laugh from her he hasn’t heard in a long time. It’s bright and playful and she’s throwing her head back and he can’t help but laugh with her. Y/N’s laugh is Paul’s serenity and a sign she feels safe with him. Oftentimes Paul caught himself wondering if Y/N trusts he can keep her safe as he once promised her. There’s not a single part of him that trusted himself to be able to do as much, but it would kill him if she doubted him too.
Resting her forehead on his, Y/N lets out a soft exhale, her hands sliding lower until her fingertips rest on his jawline.
“Yours,” he murmurs. “Always have been, always will be.”
“Thank you,” Y/N’s voice is weak, as if her soul trembles for reassurance Paul was certain he’s diligently given time and time again. But if she needs to hear it more often, he’ll give it to her.
“Don’t thank me. Why are you thanking me?”
“For not regretting having me as an imprint.”
“I could never regret you,” Paul takes her face in his hands. Can’t she see she’s his entire world? “Look at me,” Paul orders but she squeezes her eyes shut. “Hey, hey,” he says firmly. “Look at me.”
Reluctantly, she does as told. Her lips part slightly in anticipation.
“Every day I get to spend with you is another day I cherish life, love, and destiny. I didn’t believe in that shit!” Chuckling, Paul shakes his head. “Don’t you see? You made me believe in love and destiny and actually speak that into existence! There’s no one else on this planet that I would let hear me being this sappy.”
“It is a little sappy,” she jokes and he chuckles heartily.
“Well, you’re gonna pay for that.”
Raising her eyebrows, she smirks. “And how exactly are you going to make me?”
Pursing his lips, Paul pulls up his legs, his knees coming up right from behind her back enough to push her firmly into his chest.
“Crushing me? That’s your perfect plan?”
Giving her thighs a squeeze, he nods. “In a way.”
Before she had a moment to think, Y/N yelps as she lands on the soft mattress, Paul on top of her. His body weight presses her into the bed, genuinely crushing her to death. So why does it feel so good? Her nightgown moved aside, revealing a part of her right breast and Paul’s licking his lips as he cracked a smile unable to keep his eyes from wandering lower to her chest. He wants nothing more than to possess Y/N again, to feel her writhe beneath him as she comes undone. Lost in his soul’s desire, his mouth comes down hard on hers, claiming them, nearly bruising them. Restraint crumbles beneath the weight of pent-up longing, and his lips mold to hers with an urgency that borders on primal. The kiss, though almost brutal in its intensity, is an act of reclamation, a fervent assertion of belonging.
He loses himself in the warmth of her breath, in the softness of her lips yielding beneath the onslaught of his need. The world outside this stolen embrace ceases to exist. His hands find refuge in the tousled strands of her hair, fingers tangling and releasing in a rhythm dictated by their synchronized heartbeats.
An inkling of common sense washes over him, pushing himself off her instantly. Laying on his back, beside Y/N, Paul covers his face. He allowed himself to lose control long enough to forget about her boundaries, about her wishes. It was a game that turned into so much more far too quickly and he lost himself long enough to act like a predator catching up with the prey.
“I’m sorry,” he swallows thickly, unable to look at her as a cold wave of regret washes up at the shores of his conscience. What started as a game, a dance on the precipice of shared longing he’s allowed to spiral into something he never intended. In this vulnerable moment, Paul grapples not only with the awful breach of invisible boundaries he feels were drawn since their almost wedding, but with the fear of disappointing her, of shattering the trust carefully woven between them.
Y/N doesn’t respond, but the weight on the mattress shifts and then it’s on top of him. Looking at her through his fingers, Paul can’t believe the sight. She’s entirely bare before him, her breasts on display, and her hands are pulling down his boxers faster than he can comprehend.
“What are you doing?” Paul’s voice is laced with curiosity and caution.
“What you’re scared of doing,” she remarks. Her movements are deliberate, determined to bridge the emotional chasm she feels separated them as they finally made some progress.
Grabbing her hands tightly, he sits up with a frown etched upon his forehead. “Stop that and talk to me.” His words sound like a tender echo in the room.
Chuckling dryly, she shakes her head. She meets his gaze unclouded by shame or disappointment. Instead, it holds a quiet reassurance. “That’s the point, Paul. I don’t want to talk, or think, I just want you.” His face is set in a firm, serious expression as she rolls her eyes at him. “I want you inside of me;” she clarifies, as her hands reach for his, intertwining in a gentle grasp.
“If that’s what you want,” he nods.
“Do you?”
“More than you could ever know.”
She pulls him to her, seeking his mouth. He laughs at her grasping hands, teasing her, but there’s no ridicule in his chocolate eyes. There’s only the wish to prolong their pleasure. A sparkle comes alive in her eyes, and Paul knows she will have the last laugh. Her hands move downward. When she finds what she wants, there is no more laughter in his eyes. They are black with passion as he pushes her down beside him.
It isn’t long before their pleasure reaches its high and they’re both released from their sweet torment. Y/N feels drained, her bones weak as Paul moves partially aside, though his leg is still across her calf, his arm across her breasts.
“That was -” Paul begins.
“Long overdue,” she exclaims. “I don’t think we’ve ever done it this quickly!”
“As long as we both finish,” he notes happily.
“How are you so sure I did?”
Paul smirks. “Oh, I know.”
Brushing his hair back, she sighs. “I love you.”
“Even with the beard?”
Giggling, she nods. “Even with the beard!”
“Good, good. Guess I’m going to throw away the shaving cream I bought this morning.”
Pecking his shoulder, Y/N places a hand over Paul’s chest. “Definitely. You’re not shaving until we see how well that beard works for me in other places when we take things more slowly next time.”
His chest quakes under her fingertips as his laughter fills the room. The birthday dinner can certainly wait until morning because there’s nothing in this world worth endangering the sweetness of this moment.
The problem is, the sweetness of that moment repeated often throughout the morning and then it lasted the entire day. Like catching up on lost time, Y/N and Paul spent the next day wrapped up in each other until they physically couldn’t move anymore.
“I’m pretty sure they’ll send out a search party for us,” Y/N snickers as Paul swipes away all the unread messages on his screen.
“If it was urgent, someone would be at the door by now.” Burying his head in her neck, Paul inhales her deeply only to realize she almost entirely smells like him. Playfully biting at her soft skin right above the collarbone, he licks the teeth marks left behind.
“I’m not even gonna say anything,” she snorts before checking her phone as well. “Well, they’re definitely relentless.”
“Mhmm,” Paul murmurs between feather-light kisses he’s leaving across her chest.
“What dinner are they talking about in the group chat?”
Pausing, Paul looks at her through his lashes. “Fuck. I forgot.”
“Well, now that you remember, fill me in.”
“They want a dinner party for your birthday. I promised them I’d ask you, but then –“
“I screwed your brains out?”
“Something like that,” he grins, “wait, that’s exactly what you did.”
Running her fingers through his hair, she sighs contently. “I think I’d be up for a dinner. Nothing glamorous, no gifts necessary. Just a dinner with friends.”
“I don’t think gifts are optional.”
Chewing on her bottom lip, she inhales deeply. “Fine. Fine. I can handle some gifts. Just promise me you’ll get me out of there if my social battery runs out.”
Pressing his lips in a thin line, Paul furrows his eyebrows.
“We’re hosting it, aren’t we?” She grimaces with realization.
“I think so.”
Staring at the ceiling, her fingers coil around the ends of Paul’s dark hair. “Tell them it’s a go, but you definitely owe me five more orgasms to be okay with hosting.”
Chuckling, he pecks her chin. “It will be my pleasure.”
When the day came, Y/N found herself overwhelmed by noon. She sent Paul to the store at least five times, constantly finding something new she could make for the pack on her phone to the point he confiscated it.
“Maybe I can make the mac n’cheese?” Paul suggests.
Pausing, with her hand on her hip, Y/N snorts. “Sure. We have time for the fire department to show up for dinner too. Might have to make a little extra. Would be rude not to invite them for dinner when they’re already going to be here.”
Folding his arms across his chest, Paul says nothing as he gives her a pointed look. She looks surprisingly put together considering she spent the day cooking. Most times he’d let the comment made go, but this time he was waiting for an apology, one he hoped she’d realize he’s owed.
Tossing the oven mitts on the table, she sighs. “Pasta isn’t your dish, babe. I love you and your cooking, so if you wanna help, pasta is not on the menu. Butttt a potato salad is and I’d really appreciate it if you made it the same way you did last month because I craved it for a week.”
Huffing, he nods. They had ONE incident with pasta and it’s only because he forgot to put the water in the pot before he lost control and shifted. The look on her face when she realized he was a wolf while smoke was bellowing from the kitchen window had him staying away from the kitchen for months on end.
“Sure,” he releases a tired sigh. Instead of turning it into an argument, Paul decided to just keep quiet. This dinner clearly triggered her in a somewhat different way; where he expected depression and doing it all himself with Emily’s tips and tricks, he received an overly anxious perfectionist who was driving him insane. But it’s her birthday…the first one since she lost her dad. It doesn’t matter how old you are when you lose a parent, especially when it’s the last parent you had, there will be a sadness that clings to your heart for a long time after. He remembers losing his mom, and later his dad, and he wasn’t prepared for either death. To this day, Paul wishes he had more time to spend with them, to ask them why.
Why didn’t his mother tell him she was dying of cancer when she decided to send Paul to live with his father? He could have been there with her in the last months of her life, to have used the time she had left better. That’s a luxury they stole from him…the luxury he didn’t have with his dad at all. The only comfort he has is how quick his father’s death was compared to his mother's. Sudden cardiac death takes moments, not excruciatingly painful months as metastatic breast cancer does.
So, yes. Paul has more understanding than Y/N thinks. The first birthday isn’t easy, especially for someone who has a close relationship with their parent. She hasn’t taken a proper breath the whole day, wasting away precious moments they could have spent together.
When he woke up, Paul found their bed empty. He cannot even try to guess how long she’s been up cooking and cleaning, all of the things he planned to do. He wanted to cook for her, for them all. Paul wanted to make this day as easy as possible for her, but he should have known better. Y/N does everything well, but relaxing is not her strongest suit.
“Jacob said he’s bringing a cake,” Y/N breaks the silence. “Apparently, Alice had seen it in her vision and bought it.”
“That’s nice of her.”
“Yeah,” she turns to face him. “Is it weird we didn’t invite the Cullens? I kind of feel bad for excluding them.”
Licking his lips, Paul shakes his head. “We’re all perfectly happy to be on friendly terms, but I wouldn’t put a family of vampires in the same room with shapeshifters who’re struggling with old urges right now. You did well.”
“Is it really that bad?” Y/N places the spoon on the counter, approaching Paul with genuine worry reflecting in her eyes. “Are you struggling?”
“Every day,” he admits with a tightlipped smile.
“You never told me,” she realizes. “I really need to do better.”
“It’s fine.”
“I wish it was,” she frowns. “What else do you struggle with?”
Glancing at her, he shrugs meekly. “I don’t think we should be having this conversation now.”
“Why?” Swallowing thickly, Y/N leans on her forearms. When Paul remains silent, she bows her head low. “I’m just gonna ask then. Are you still having those nightmares?”
Noticing his hand stop stirring, Y/N’s eyes widen. Paul’s jaw clenches and her lips part. They’re not out of the woods yet. She’s still marked for death. If anything, her father delayed her death for a little while. There’s not a single part of her that doubts she was the intended victim, but her father managed to protect her the only way he could – by sacrificing his own life.
Flashes of his ripped-open throat have her grabbing onto her stomach as nausea forces bile up her throat. Unable to run to the bathroom, it spills past her mouth into the sink and before she has a chance to take her next breath, Paul’s warm hand is splayed between her shoulder blades and the other is holding her hair back.
“Ugh,” she groans. “Throwing up in the sink is so fucked up,” she tries to laugh only to gag as she senses the smell of stomach acid. Paul lets the water run, running a wet hand across her face and neck. “I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. I throw up thinking about it too.”
Looking up at him, she leans into his chest. “You could have said something.”
“Your dad was killed. It’s not a burden I was looking to share when you were already struggling.”
Inhaling sharply, she wraps her arms around him. “I’m strong enough,” she states. “I promise you can stop treating me like I’ll break if we argue or you have something on your mind. I don’t care how bad it is, I’m here for you.”
“Talking about your death isn’t something I like to do,” Paul pulls back lightly, his scowl playing with her heartstrings. He’s been so strong, but when will he let down his armor again? It can’t be good for him to bottle all this up.
“Let’s go for a walk.”
“We’re having people over in two hours,” Paul reminds her.
“And we have made like five dishes already. We can order pizza if they eat everything prepared.”
Paul smiles seeing her relax for the first time that day. This is the Y/N he’s been missing. “The beach?”
“Of course!”
As the sun begins its descent beyond the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, they walk along the shoreline, entwined hands swaying gently like the rhythm of the waves as the ocean breeze plays with their hair. Little is said about the darkness they need to share, deciding to table it for another day. This is meant to be a moment for just the two of them – the couple who fell in love against all odds and chose to love each other every day continuously.
“It’s weird how this was meant to be the place we say our vows in,” she muses.
Pulling her closer, Paul closes his eyes. “Would have been beautiful,” the ache of unrealized dreams carries in his voice.
“I was so ready to call you my husband,” she confesses with a teasing smirk, a glimmer of playful light in her eyes.
Biting his lower lip, his eyes reopen, finding solace in the depth of hers. “I was already calling you my wife that day. It felt right.”
Staring at each other as the sun goes down, they smile longingly as if each glance is a rediscovery of love after the tragedy that stained their happiness.
“Let’s get married,” Y/N declares.
“I’d love to,” Paul places his hands on her hips, lightly pulling her in front of him.
“No, I mean would you like to marry me tonight?”
Caught off guard, Paul coughs as he nearly chokes on his saliva. He grabs her shoulders for support before cupping her cheeks, bending his neck to meet her eyes with furrowed brows. “Are you fucking with me?”
“I’m serious! We can have Sam marry us and then just file the paperwork tomorrow. I mean we have the marriage license; it’s not rocket science.”
Paul, running his tongue across his lips, takes a few bewildered steps to the left. Shaking his head in disbelief, he glances at her repeatedly, searching for any sign of it being a joke. But this isn’t a joke, this is real.
“Okay,” he finally utters, the shock evident in his nod.
“Okay?” Sparked by Paul’s unexpected agreement, a giggle bubbles forth from her, carrying genuine happiness. It’s infectious, dancing through the air, infusing the moment with warmth Paul is certain will linger in his memories.
“Yeah! Let’s get married tonight!”
A/N: Unfortunately Tumblr had been making me suffer regarding the tagging, so I hope these tags work, if not I TRIED. I am also aware it has been a while since I updated, so hope this was good enough of an apology.
@notperfect-justme @sucker4seresin @ahoyyharrington @b-tchymoon @squiddaloo @abbiesxox @kellyashcroft @the-chaotic-cow @xxxjaexxx @captainrogers-19 @bexloxl @adaydreamaway08 @sunsetevergreen @volturiwolf @twihard08 @galacticstxrdust @sorrow-and-bliss @missxmarvelous @locokoca @unstablekay @makhaia @venusdelaroix @avadakadabra93 @tearsforhan @a-marie-a @lendeluxe @seagulls-corner @konigslilslut @rottenstyx @itsmytimetoodream @dreamerwasfound @convolutings @thingfromlove @jennyamanda8 @havecourage-darling @luvr-exe @alittlejudgemental @turningtoclown @emptydoorsandpaintedwindows @marvelmenarebeautiful @bringmethe-world @alitaar @sugasthreedollarkookie @chloe-skywalker @heyheyheyggg @feral-ratatattat-king @fandomrulesall-blog @dcgoddess @lilac-crowns-blog @small-town-wayward-daughter @queenotaku27 @yourqueentp @boreddemigodd @chaosgoblinreblogsthings @felinegrate @lunajay33 @gtfoana @hpboysslut2707 @tpwk-harrystyles @amberpanda99 @let-love-bleeds-red @mo-s-blog @nj01 @myheadsinanotherworld @problematicpastry @witchybabel @llovergirlll @ireadthensuetheauthors @queerrobin @wordacadabra
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1-800-iluvhockey · 2 years
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wildest dreams - (t.bordeleau’s version)
summary - thom met her at a party, and can’t get her out of his head. he wanted to find her again, even if it was in his wildest dreams.
type - 3.4k wc, fic based on wildest dreams by tswift (lyrics are italicized & bold) some lyrics are changed, but you’ll understand.
warnings - 18+ themes, one night stand, catching feelings, longing for the love back, etc.
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for thomas bordeleau, one night stands aren’t supposed to mean anything…. but he met her and he can’t get it off his mind. he knew not to catch feelings, but he couldn’t help himself. she was perfect. everything and more, and he needed to find her again, even if it was in his wildest dreams……..
let’s get out of this town
drive out of the city, away from the crowds
I thought heaven can’t help me now
nothing last’s forever
“BRISS! I don’t want to go to this damn party man—“ thom whined as he was dragged to another party by briss. his luck at parties & social batteries at parties has gone downhill since the season started.
“thommm cmon!!! maybe you’ll get lucky tonight! just come with me and leave in like an hour if you don’t find anything.” briss told his best friend as he shoved him into the door.
“fine! but one hour, then I’m leaving.” thom grumbled as he searched to find a drink. he was dressed in one of his classy party outfits. decked out in red and black leather, with the tattoo on display, and glasses to hide his disgust in his eyes. he didn’t want to be here at all, as the game tonight completely wiped him out, but he had to stay here for an hour.
“a hour, what can I find for an hour.” he thought to himself.
he looked around for a solid ten minutes, finding groups of his friends to talk to and mingle with, and then he moved to get another drink and found her.
but this is gonna take me down
he’s she’s so tall
and he’s handsome as hell
he’s so bad and he does it so well
she was possibly one of the prettiest people he had ever seen. she was glowing in that dark red dress, looking like a movie star. thom couldn’t take his eyes off of her, and she knew it. she felt someone’s eyes on her from across the room, and saw the thom bordeleau staring at her. she was from out of town, and was in town for a friend….. but she knew who he was. she decided to let him know that she could see his gaze, but slowly seducing him from the other side of the room. by the way she danced, the way she touched people, the way she slyly smirked at him from across the room. thom was impressed that she could affect people in that way, and captured his attention so damn quickly. his cup had almost broke three times because of her, he was gripping it so tight to restrain himself from walking over there and—-
“hi thom. enjoying the party, joli garçon?” she said as she took his cup and took a sip of it. (pretty boy) confidence, it drew him into her……
“of course I am, jolie femme. now what’s your name?” he asked her as she smiled into his cup. (pretty girl)
“y/n l/n.” she hummed, keeping eye contact as she took another sip of his drink.
“you’re not from around here, are you? a pretty girl who can speak some sort of french— not very common here.” he told her, scratching the nape of his neck as he waited for her to give his drink back.
“montréal est assez loin d’ann arbor..” she whispered to him and gave him his drink back. she started to back away, but his firm grip on her waist said otherwise. (montreal is pretty far away from ann arbor..)
“oh my god, were you sent from heaven, l/n?” thom asked her semi seriously as she laughed. oh that dreamy laugh.
“maybe I was bordeleau…. or I could take you there.” she said smartly, messing with her bracelet, which had angel wings as one of the charms. she tried to turn around to look around the room, but thom impulsively grabbed her hip.
“don’t go—“ he whispered in her ear as she shifts into his light, but longing hold on her hips.
she looks down to take in the details of him, like he was doing the same to her. the tattoo was on full display on her hip, which almost made her crumble. the glasses hid his handsome face, but not the expression on it. the “you’re now mine— don’t leave” expression.
he looks down to the details on her dark red dress, the heels she was wearing that made her legs look longer, all the way up to the gold chain on her neck which had the words “cet amour” on it. (this love.) he thought about that necklace but then was snapped out of his trance when she touched him again.
she looked down since he was semi-slumped against a counter, and she was almost towering over him because of it. her left hand made her way up to grab his glasses, taking them off his face and putting them on slowly.
I can see the end
as it begins
“sortons d'ici ouais? je déteste la foule…” she told him as he didn’t even think twice, moving his hand on her waist to wrapping the arm around her shoulder, leading her out of the party. (let’s get out of here yeah? I hate the crowds…)
leading and weaving her through the crowds, he didn’t even know or care of the stares that he was getting from his friends. after his nasty breakup from earlier this year, thom told all of his teammates/friends that he wasn’t going to pursue a girl again until he hit the nhl. but y/n was no girl…..
my one condition is
say you’ll remember me
thom was snapped out of his trance as his flight landed in san jose. it’s been almost three months since that night, and he had done everything that he thought he could to find her. but he was determined to find her. exiting the plane, seeing all of the sharks’ reps waiting for him on the private tarmac… was just eye opening. he made it. but he wanted her with him.
standing in a nice dress,
staring at the sunset babe,
now sitting in the limo on the way to his hotel 30 minutes away, he began to think back on their first night… it was naive of him to think that she would stay after the last night he had with her……. but that first night was an experience like no other. he had never had a girl make him feel the way that she did. emotionally or physically.
red lips and rosy cheeks
say you’ll see me again
even if it’s just in your
wildest dreams…….
“oh my god thom— don’t—“ she whined into him as he tore her dress almost in half.
“what- don’t what?” he said smirking as she opened her legs wider, causing him to spread them more.
“hurry up bordeleau. I’m impatient and you just ripped my favorite party dress.”
“oh you poor baby… how unfair.” he told her sarcastically, as he kissed the nape of her neck softly, and then working down to her collarbone.
“yeah! not fair at all—." y/n replied to him as she held back a small noise as he made his way back up her neck.
his her hands are in my hair
his clothes are her dress is in my room
and his her voice is a familiar sound…..
in doing so, she grabbed the bottom of his shirt and took it off, throwing it across the room. she could feel his smirk against her neck, so she pushed him back into the bed, he laughs and sits up…. patting his lap for her to crawl up to.
nothing last’s forever
“cmon— I know what you want.” he told her, as she looked down at his hand and back up to him.
“oh really thomas? what do I want then…” she smirked as she watched him take of his (leather) pants, leaving him in just a pair of black boxers, which got y/n thinking thoughts…… on how his tattoos were extra dark, because of his boxer color. especially the hand tattoo that she had her eye on all night. he smirks at her, knowing exactly what she wants from him.
but this is getting good now
“c’mere cherie—“ he told her with some lust in his voice, causing her to almost pounce on him. (darling)
“I don’t want this night to end, thom…” she whispered as she inched her way onto his lap.
“oh baby— it’s just started— and who says it has to end?” he tells her coyly as he wraps the tattooed hand around her throat, gentle but with enough force to cause her to wiggle under his grasp. he could feel her heartbeat throughout her body, and the coldness from her necklace against his hot skin.
“good god—“ she halfway said under her breath as he moved closer.
waking up from his dream by the sound of a car honk, he was again pulled back to reality. the reality that the night had already happened, and he was trying his best to relive the memory, every chance that he could. but he was starting his new life now, and was about to start his nhl career. he secretly wished that she could be here for it, and also wished that the night never happened. even if he knew at that time that he would catch feelings for the mysterious y/n l/n…. he’d do it all over again, just to be around her, to feel her touch. oh it took him down, she was just so— goddess like that he couldn’t get her off of his mind for it felt like forever.
wildest dreams
wildest dreams
“don’t don’t —-“ she struggled underneath him as he brings her hips up.
the night truly didn’t want to end, because this was round 4 and both of them just wanted to keep going. secretly y/n didn’t want to leave, and not so secretly, thom wanted to keep her here with him.
“don’t give up on me now baby. cmon.” he praised her to keep going as everything started to grow louder or more aggressive..
the music of the party boomed through the room. the feelings of euphoria between the two of them, causing them to hold back their moans more.
the scratches that y/n was making on thom’s back were growing deeper, like his hold on her hips to bring them up higher. black spots filled her vision for god knows the number of times for her.
she had never had a man make her feel this way, and she was loving it. thom loved the way she was making him feel, and wanted to keep making her feel this way, until the morning if she would let him, so she didn’t have to leave. they connected instantly, and they both didn’t want to leave each other….but all good things have to come to an end.
you see me in hindsight
tangled up with you all night
burning it down
“THOM! jesus—“ she yelled at him as he pulled out to spread her legs farther apart to give her one last high, the best kind of high in his opinion… the one where he can feel and taste her at the same time.
he buried himself into her, roughly shoving three fingers in her, causing her to gasp. she could feel his fingers hit the spot, and she wanted to die happy right there. back and forth, his tongue hitting her just right, she could feel his smirk against her, so she clenches her legs around him, causing him to sink into her more.
“god don’t stop don’t stop—“ she told him as he increased the pace, causing her to hold his head down, playing with his hair to distract the fact that she was about to die by bords’ hands…. literally.
“FUC—“ she screamed as she hit her high, finishing as bords’ head shot up, silencing her scream by putting her hand on her mouth. they both laughed as it was over, and she lasted back down in the same position, but this time, in silence… they laid there, just holding the intimacy for just awhile longer. 5 rounds, many highs later, and the pair didn’t even want to move; they both caught feelings on the first damn night.
someday when you leave me
I bet these memories
follow you around
“thom? we’re ready for you.” one of the assistant coaches said as thom grabbed his stuff from the car, to walk into the arena. he had now played in the ahl for a few games, but was then called up to play the rest of the season. he just signed the papers for a 3 year entry contract, and now officially playing in tonight’s game in minnesota.
“wow.” he whispered to himself as he took a picture of the ice. it was gorgeous, and everything he dreamed of as a kid. no way that he was here right now, about to play in his first nhl game today. he wished that he had someone to share it with. someone that he would go home to and— but he really just wanted y/n. still searching for the mystery girl who got his heart, he kept trying to find her on every social media site. instagram, snapchat, twitter, hell…. even facebook. he was beginning to think that she was a figment of his wildest dreams… but he knew that she was real.
someday when you leave me
I bet these memories
“thom?” she asked him softly, stirring him to be fully awake.
“yeah hon.” he replied to her, as she looked up at him from his chest.
“you’ll remember me right?” she questioned, hoping that he’d say yes.
“of course, you’re the best I’ve ever—“ he stops in his tracks.
“that’s all I am to you— I get it.” she whispers softly, causing him to feel awful. he normally wouldn’t really care, but she was different.
“what I’m trying to say is… I’ve never felt this way. meaning I don’t know how to express to you how I feel. when I saw you across the room tonight, my heart jumped out of my chest. I— I like you a lot y/n.” thom said to her, and she about jumped out of his arms right then and there.
“the thomas bordeleau? has caught feelings for me? I’m not even from here and I know of you and your—“ she trails off waiting for bords to cut her off.
“don’t listen to it. unless it’s about hockey, because that’s true.” he laughs and she hits him across the chest.
“how are we going to do this, thom? because as much as I don’t want to be just some one night stand, I don’t want to stand in the way of your career.” she tells him seriously and he sits up, shifting them to both sit up.
“Je ne veux pas paraître fou, mais tu comptes plus pour moi que ça, mon amour.” he told her, kissing her softly as she stood up. (I don't mean to sound crazy, but you mean more to me than that, my love.)
“tu n'es qu'un peu fou, bordeleau. J'ai juste une condition .” she asked him as she pulled on her half ripped dress, and looked for her shoes. thom rolled over and got out of bed, grabbing a michigan sweatshirt for her to put on. she threw it on top of her ripped dress, to hide the rips, and sat down on the bed to put on her shoes. (you’re only a little crazy, bordeleau. I just have one condition..)
“anything.” he said, looking up at her.
“say you’ll remember me. maybe in a nice dress? staring at a sunset, it’s my favorite. I always have red lips and rosy cheeks, flushed. but my condition is that even if I never find you again, say you’ll see me again, even if it’s just pretend. or I’ll find you again, but I hope to see you in my wildest dreams, bordeleau.” she tells him, and kisses him one last time before walking away. he was stuck, and looked around to figure out how he let her out of his grasp so quickly. he saw on his bedside table that her necklace was still there.
“Y/n!!” he yells after her, running out the door of the house, standing on the porch.
she was gone, and all he had was his wildest dreams to find her again….. so he thought.
follow
you
around
it was now debut night for thomas in the xcel energy center in st.paul, mn….. 1,844 km away from montreal, where he truly wanted to be right now. he was so damn nervous, and nothing could calm his nerves down. the only thing keeping him from running away to the locker room to puke is the slim chance that y/n could be watching on the tv in montreal. little did he know that she was here, not knowing that thom would be there. she was invited by her sister, who was dating tyson jost. they had been dating for a few years, and recently moved to minnesota, and y/n’s sister knew of thom from y/n….. it was perfect.
“and now making his rookie lap, is #23 THOMAS BORDELEAU!!” the announcer said and y/n’s heart stopped.
he was here, and he made it big time. she kept up with him in these past three long months, and knew of his defeat in the ncaa championship, him signing to the ahl….. but she didn’t realize that he would be called up during THIS game. she was ecstatic for him. she was seated at center ice with her sister, so she knew that she may get noticed by him…. but if not, she was going to find a way to see him after.
the rookie lap goes good for thom, all was going well, almost too well. he sat down to switch his stick before the game, and looks up to try and find his parents in the section that he told them that they would be at….. and in scanning the crowds….. he found her. she was wearing all black, with a vintage red jacket on, and a silver diamond chain around her neck. she was stunning, and truly looked like she was straight out of his wildest dreams.
he played his heart out, for his family, and friends watching……. along with a certain girl that he couldn’t take his mind off of. he didn’t dare to look over at her, knowing it would screw up his game. but he knew he had to find her after.
“oh my boy! you played so so good.” his mom told him after he went down to the locker room.
“you played great, son.” his dad also told him and patted him on the shoulder.
“merci beaucoup..” he whispered to them, almost dying from the overload of emotions that he was feeling.
“we will meet you for breakfast tomorrow, thommy.” his mom told him as he kissed his cheek, and he told them goodbye before he went into the locker room.
on the other side of the arena…….
“Y/n! so help me god, you better walk your happy little ass over to those locker rooms and wait for him.” her sister told her as y/n stood with her to wait for tyson.
“but I’m scared! what if he doesn’t want to see meeeee.” she whined as her sister pushed her into the direction of the visitor locker rooms.
“GO! tys & I will meet you out front. who knows? maybe we will meet bordsy.” her sister teased as y/n gave up and walked away.
“okay, okay. everything will be okay.” she told herself as she walked into the visitor side area a few minutes later. she was looking down at her phone to make sure that she was going the right way, when she bumped into a player.
“hi I’m so sorry—“ she told the player without looking up.
“I’d bump into you anytime.” the player said, and she recognized his voice from anywhere. she looks up to see him, and smiles so big.
“thomas.” she says softly and she launches into his arms.
“hi baby, I guess this is my wildest dream now, because you’re here.” he told her as she nuzzled into his hold.
“three months too long, but you remembered.” she told him, hugging him tighter.
“told you that I’d never forget you, ma cherie.” he told her, spinning her around. (darling) “and I still have your necklace.” he continued, making her laugh.
abbster’s taglist: @hockeyboysarehot @hockey-lover86 @hockey-lover-22 @erikports @pulpfixion @owenpowersglasses @mattsboldyy @pierrelucduboiis @juliasahoshughes @calermakar08 @studsccsnackavoybambi @boeswhore @jamiedryzdale @here-for-bords @bordsybebe @dracoswhore007 @bordyluv @njdhischier @lwstuff @oskarlidblom @dylandukerr @the-stars-shine-above-us
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janaispunk · 19 days
Text
i can see the end as it begins
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chapter 1 • series masterlist
pairing: Dave York x f!reader
summary: You meet your father’s new friend for the first time, but he’s a lot different than you expected.
word count: ~5k
tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad isn’t a nice person), able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, semi-public sex, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, spanking, pet names, let me know if i missed anything 🫶🏻
a/n: my favorite person on this app @joelscurls planted the idea of dbf!dave in both our heads and after many many feral dms, porn gifs, plotting and just generally freaking out, we have finally managed to put the first chapter together :) we’re currently planning with 4 chapters in total that we’re gonna take turns posting, so go follow jess if you don’t already (criminal behavior tbh)! i’m beyond excited to be able to do this with someone whose writing i adore sooo much, we’re both beyond excited about this story, and we hope that you enjoy it 🫶🏻
follow @joelscurlsupdates and @janaispunknotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)
dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics!
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“I want a divorce.”
It’s been almost a year since Carol spoke those words into the tense silence of their dining room and they still echo in Dave’s mind as if it happened yesterday.
He doesn’t mourn the marriage, doesn’t miss Carol, not in the way he probably should. But he mourns the life that he had, the perfect suburban family, the stability. A little boring maybe, but safe, calming. Predictable.
And he misses his girls. He misses the sound of small feet on the hardwood-floor greeting him as soon as he opened the front door, giggly exclamations of “Daddy’s home!” and tiny hands grabbing at him, begging to be picked up. Now he opens the door to an empty, silent apartment. He has them every second weekend, which he rationally knows makes the most sense with his often irregular working hours, but it’s simply not enough. It’s like time is constantly running through his fingers and he just can’t make it stop, can’t bring his life back under control.
He’s doing what he can to keep himself busy, anything to keep his mind occupied and his thoughts from spiraling into that pit of loneliness that he’s found himself in. He started reconnecting with friends, going out with his colleagues and contacting people from his army days that he hasn’t spoken to in years, trying to build a social life outside of his family and the neighbors that he no longer lives next to.
It’s tedious, making him realize that he really doesn’t like people all that much, but it’s better than spending his evenings by himself and wondering where things went so awfully wrong.
He spends a lot of time with Jim, one of the guys that trained with him and that he always got along with rather well. Jim was delighted when Dave called, promptly inviting him to join him at golf the next day, which somehow turned into a weekly event on Dave’s schedule. It’s nice enough, giving him some sense of routine and he finds that he’s rather good at it. Jim runs his own company by now, the thing that he invests all of his time in, which got him a lot of money, but also a divorce.
It’s all he talks about, too, but it’s fine with Dave, not being forced to contribute that much to the conversation – because really, there’s not much worth mentioning happening in his life anyway – and he’s content to just nod along and hum in agreement most of the time.
Jim has a daughter too, a lot older than Dave’s though, already out of the house, attending law school. He can tell that Jim is proud when he talks about her, but it always seems to be connected to achievements, an underlying pressure to their relationship that leaves Dave a little uneasy and he silently vows to himself to never apply any sort of conditions to his love for his daughters.
But he's never met the young woman and he probably never will, so he doesn’t dwell on it, because what does it matter to him, really?
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You huff a sigh as the familiar sight of the country club that your father loves to frequent comes into view and hand the Uber driver a tip before sliding out of the car.
You had thought you’d be getting a night out with your Dad, just the two of you, a rare occurrence. Not that you had been particularly looking forward to being grilled about law school, your grades, networking and internship opportunities, but at least he would be listening to you, paying attention. Joking that he was making sure that the money he put into your education was well invested, a joke that felt less funny every time you were reminded just how financially dependent you were on your father.
If the topic of conversation wasn’t school, it was what kind of acquaintances you’ve made, if maybe you’d met a guy with good connections, someone who could introduce you to the right people. Cautionary warnings not to get involved with the wrong sort, not to get on the wrong track.
Just once, you would like to talk about if you were enjoying school, what living on your own was like, how you got along with your roommate, the fun times you had with your girlfriends, anything about your life that wasn’t somehow connected to success or keeping up appearances. But your relationship wasn’t like that. He didn’t care about these sorts of things, he never had.
You continuously swallowed down the heavy feeling of envy in your stomach when your friends talked about their parents, painting a picture of unconditional love and support that was foreign to you, telling yourself that everything was fine the way it was.
“I invited Dave to join us tomorrow,” he then told you yesterday morning, offhandedly, sipping his coffee and his eyes already glued to his phone. You nodded silently, forcing your lips into something that resembled a smile. He had mentioned someone named Dave before, an old friend from his army days that he had recently reconnected with, if you remembered correctly. It didn’t matter, really, your father’s countless acquaintances blurred into a mix of vaguely familiar faces in your head anyway. If you had mixed feelings about the evening plans before, this new development made it clear that you wouldn’t partake in the conversation much, just smile politely, sit pretty and let the grown ups talk.
Steeling yourself, you walk in, your heels clicking against the floor. After spotting your dad almost immediately and waving in his direction, you make a beeline for the bar. He was sitting alone, you think, furrowing your brow in thought. You’re running a little late yourself, maybe that Dave guy couldn’t make it? You don’t hate the idea of that.
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Dave had been reluctant to come out tonight, couldn’t help the feeling that he was intruding on his friend’s father-daughter time, something that he was desperate to have more of, but Jim had insisted.
“Lots of women you could meet there!”
He had scoffed under his breath, not able to picture himself meeting someone new, going through the motions of getting to know them, opening up, adjusting his routine to someone else’s again. He could much less picture himself meeting a woman he’d be interested in at a fucking country club of all places. Eventually, the thought of another evening in his silent and empty apartment with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company made him accept anyway.
He’s drumming his fingers against the polished wooden bar, waiting to pick up the second round of beers for Jim and himself, when someone slides up to the counter beside him. He glances over, eyes focusing in on the woman who is studying the drinks menu.
He feels an inexplicable pull towards her, couldn’t look away again even if he tried. She’s beautiful, he thinks as he takes in her features in the soft warm light, lingering on the shape of her lips, before his gaze trails down her body, over the short black dress that’s clinging to her in the most enticing way. She’s also younger than him; too young, the responsible part of his mind argues. Not the kind of woman that he should be interested in meeting. He still can’t look away.
“Evening.” The greeting comes out before he can stop himself. She looks up, a hint of annoyance on her pretty face, but her gaze softens as her eyes meet his. A smirk plays on her lips.
“Hi.” Her eyes flicker down his own body and up again, something akin to excitement taking over her expression. He’s rusty, hasn’t done this in ages, but her interest is palpable, and it shoots a thrill of pleasure through him.
“I’m David,” he introduces himself. No one has called him David in… god knows how long, but it feels better than Dave in this moment, right somehow. Like he can be a different person, just for a little while.
“Pleasure,” she grins, tells him her name and shakes his hand, her eyes glinting in the warm lights of the bar. Her touch on his skin, even just his hand, is like electricity is flowing through the air between them. She feels so soft and his life has been so devoid of softness lately that he has to force himself to let go of her hand again.
Something tugs at the back of his mind, like this name should ring a bell, but he shoves the thought aside. He’s too busy picturing himself taking her home this evening, imagining how soft her skin would feel in other places, how she would look splayed out underneath him on his sheets, how her breath would sound when he–
“I’ve never seen you around here before, are you new?” her melodic voice interrupts the vivid daydream playing in his mind. She has taken a step towards him and hints of the sweet notes of her perfume are beginning to surround the air around him. It’s getting a little hard to think straight.
“I– yes. First time actually,” he laughs and delights in the way her face lights up at the sound. “You come here a lot, then?” The cliché line makes him want to cringe, but she doesn’t falter, only shrugs and lets her eyes slowly trail down his body once more, obviously wanting him to notice.
“Depends. I might be here more often if it means I get to see you.”
She reaches out until her fingers softly graze his wrist and it demands a great amount of willpower not to take her home right this instant.
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The heartbeat in your chest is thrumming along to the butterflies that are erupting in your stomach. You’ve never been this bold, too shy to flirt at all most of the time, but the stranger in front of you is clouding your sense of judgment and has your insecurities flying right out of the window. His interest is written over his face clear as day and you feel an immediate pull towards him that you can’t explain.
He’s so handsome that your hands are itching to touch him more, to find out if he’s as broad and solid as is large frame suggests, if that jawline would feel as strong under your fingertips as it looks, and if his deep brown eyes would soften before you press your lips against his. No wedding ring either, you note in the back of your mind, sending another surge of excitement through you.
The fact that he seems old enough to be your father, something that your therapist would probably have a few words to say about, is only adding to the arousal that’s coursing through your veins. You want him.
You almost jump when your drinks arrive in front of you; you had all but forgotten where you are, and that you’re very much in eyesight of your actual father. Suddenly, you feel silly, reality catching up to you. Surely he was just being nice and you read way too much into it, making a fool of yourself.
“Well, I–I’ll see you around then.” You hastily grab your glass and are ready to make a run for it, when his large hand wraps around your elbow.
“Looking forward to it,” he purrs, before he takes the two beers off the counter in front of him.
Awkwardness slowly sets in when you start walking in the same direction, but it doesn’t fully hit you until you both stop at the same table, your father beaming up at you.
“Sweetheart, you already met Dave I see, that’s great. Come, sit!”
You’re frozen, stupidly blinking between your father and the man beside you a few times. The man who introduced himself as David.
David. Dave. Oh. Oh.
“Y–yeah,” you stutter out eventually and plaster a smile on your face as you take a seat beside your dad. David looks just as dumbstruck as you feel when he slides into the chair opposite from you, quietly handing one of the beers over to your dad. His friend.
Your father launches into a story about their army days together and you’re nodding along, but not one word actively registers in your brain. The conversation eventually moves on to your dad’s recent work projects, the majority of the talking done by him, with the occasional question from David, while you’re silently sipping on your drink.
The initial embarrassment of the whole situation makes you want to sink down into the ground, but still you can’t keep your eyes from flicking to David again and again. They linger on his lips, constantly in a pout that you would give anything to feel against yours, the slight shadow of stubble on his cheeks at the end of the day that you know would scratch against your skin so deliciously, the way his hand dwarfs his beer on the table, thick fingers that could stretch– No. No, you’re not going there.
Your cheeks are burning and you stare down at the tabletop in front of you.
When your gaze lifts back up, David’s eyes are already trained on you, glinting like he knows exactly what you’ve been thinking about. You reluctantly look back at your father, who’s still rambling on about some big client that he’s currently dealing with, completely oblivious to the charged energy between his friend and you.
David shifts in his seat and his leg bumps against yours under the table. You grasp your drink tighter, forcing yourself not to react in any way, but you don’t move away either. Neither does he. You shoot him a look and the hint of a smirk plays around his mouth. He looks too damn good like this, so excitingly wrong in a way that makes your pulse flutter.
It feels like you’re burning up from inside and as little attention as your dad is paying to you, you’re certain that he’s gonna notice that something is off with you eventually. You hastily scramble to your feet and excuse yourself to the bathroom. You feel David’s eyes on you as you walk away until you’re out of sight.
The cool water that you run over your wrists and splash onto your cheeks does a poor job of calming you down. Stupid, stupid, stupid, you admonish yourself. It’s certainly not more than a tiny bit of flirting to him, if at all, just some harmless fun to amuse himself probably, and you’re getting this worked up about it.
No. You need to get out of this situation. You’re gonna walk back out there, make something up about a headache and catch a cab home. It will probably earn you a lecture about politeness later in the evening, but you’ll gladly take that.
When you approach the table again, your dad is just getting off his phone, his expression already far away. You know that look all too well, being subjected to it almost daily.
“Work emergency?” you ask, without a real question behind your words.
“Yeah,” he grumbles, getting up, barely looking at you, already all business. “Sorry, I gotta get to the office, Dave will drive you home. Right, Dave?”
Your eyes fly to David and you catch him swallowing hard, but he nods regardless, lips quirking up in a forced smile. “Of course.”
You both silently watch your father’s retreating back, already speaking into his phone again. The fabric of Dave’s pants ghosts against your bare leg below the table once more. You wish it were his fingers instead.
You hadn’t anticipated to be alone with him and all the reasonable thoughts that you’ve come up with in the privacy of the bathroom are wiped from your mind. It feels like you’re buzzing, a rush of excitement thrumming through your veins, like your body knows that you’re on the brink of doing something really stupid and really fucking tempting.
“I’m sorry, about earlier,” you murmur, looking up at him through your lashes. He smirks, a knowing glint in his eyes as he takes in your expression. He still hasn’t moved his leg.
“I don’t think you are.”
Your stomach swoops at his words. You bite your lip. He wouldn’t be acting like this if he didn’t want you, would he? His eyes dart to your lips at the movement and darken. Fuck it.
“No, I’m not.” You pray that he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in your voice. He’s fucking intimidating and this is wrong on so many levels and you want him so badly to want you.
The tension between you is a palpable thing, almost making it hard to breathe when he leads you out of the club, his hand at the small of your back and causing you to shiver. Will he really just drive you home? Will he say something, do something, touch you more? You don’t know how to ask for any of it and desperately wish that he’ll take the reins, that somehow he already knows what you want. You have a feeling that he does.
He opens his car door for you, another thing that really shouldn’t affect you this much, before he walks around the vehicle and gets in beside you. You catch a hint of his cologne in the confined space and press your thighs together before you can stop yourself. Your heart is racing and you just know that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.
He clears his throat. “We gotta stop at my place, I have some paperwork that I’d like your–” He interrupts himself, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles are white, “that I’d like Jim to look over for me.”
You nod, a small hum leaving your throat. The implication of going to his place has you reeling. He nods back, stealing a glance at you before he starts the car. You can’t help watching him as he drives, the subtle control that he exudes, the way the muscles on his thighs are flexing underneath the fabric of his pants. He looks over at you a few times, and you don’t have it in yourself to pretend that your eyes aren’t glued to him.
“See something you like?” he asks eventually, the corners of his mouth twitching.
“Yeah,” you answer, so breathless it’s embarrassing and you shift a little in your seat. Your dress rides up at the movement, revealing more skin, and his eyes fly down instantly.
“Me too,” he rasps.
When he stops the car in front of his building, you decide that it’s time to be brave.
“Do you want me to come up with you?”
“No,” his answer comes instantly. His tone isn’t cold, but determined, not to be argued with.
“Oh.” Your cheeks are heating up again. You hate how small your voice sounds. “I thought–”
He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, avoiding your gaze.
“I can’t. You’re– You know why. You know I can’t.”
“I don’t care. I’m an adult, I can do what I want.”
He shakes his head, still not looking at you.
“Sweetheart, stop. Trust me, I want to, but–”
“Please?” You’re begging, no dignity left in you, only want want want. “Just one time. Please, David?”
His eyes fly up to your face at that. You can see the shift, the way his expression hardens, turning into something feral that has heat growing between your legs.
“Just one time,” he repeats, his voice dark with desire, no longer trying to conceal it.
His hands find your thighs, grabbing at you roughly, moving you until you’re in his lap, legs spread wide, his breath fanning against your lips. One hand is in your hair, the other gliding under the hem of your dress, his touch turning you into a trembling mess.
“This is what you want?” he growls, the grip in your hair tightening. You don’t think that you’ve ever wanted anything as much as this.
“Please,” you whine again, and he presses forward, lips clashing against yours, the kiss all tongue and teeth and desperate need and you’re melting into him.
“Fuck,” he breathes, his hands all over you now, grabbing at your dress, your skin, any place he can reach.
Your mouth travels over his cheek and down to his neck, sucking kisses and bites into his skin. The stubble scratches against your face just like you thought it would and you start working on the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers, rolling your hips, desperate for friction. His grip steadies you, pulling down the neckline of your dress, kissing along the lace of your bra before he pulls the cups down too. A groan rises up in his throat as he cups your tits, thumbs circling over your already hardened nipples before he leans forward and sucks one into his mouth.
“Fucking perfect,” he rasps, breath hot against your damp skin. You arch into his touch and he chuckles, sucking on the bud again before he bites down, eliciting a loud moan from you. His touch travels up your thighs, leaving a burning trail behind, until his fingertips rub over the soaked fabric of your panties and you gasp at the barely-there touch.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, pressing down harder. “Already dripping for me, huh? You want it that bad?”
You nod eagerly, pushing down onto his fingers.
“Alright.” He sounds just as wrecked as you feel. He starts undoing his belt buckle and his pants and you lift up just enough to allow him to shove them down his hips.
At the first glance at his cock, your mouth falls open, a silent breath escaping you. He’s big, certainly the biggest you’ve ever had, and maybe you should think about how you’ll take all of him inside of you, but you find yourself craving him, craving the stinging stretch, craving the feeling of being as close as possible to him.
“Don’t worry.” He seems mildly amused, catching your lips in another kiss. “We’ll make it fit.”
Another shudder runs through your body at this. “I’m not worried,” you admit in a whisper.
He laughs at that, a breathless sound that you instantly want to hear again.
“Good.”
He pulls your underwear to the side and thrusts one thick finger up into your slick heat without warning. His thumb rubs around your clit and you already feel an orgasm creeping up on you. He adds a second finger, his rhythm relentless, and you cry out, grabbing his shoulders, trying to steady yourself, but it’s pointless. You’re already clenching, so close to the edge, when he pulls out of you and fixes you with a hard glare.
“Not yet. You’re only gonna come on my cock tonight, understood?”
You want to scream, want his fingers back, but you realize that you also want this authority, want him to take control, to take whatever he wants from you. It’s a heady feeling, one that you’ve never experienced before, but you’re already desperate for more.
“Okay,” you agree, and his responding smirk is enough for another wave of wetness to gather between your legs.
With one steadying hand securely on your hip, he leans over to the glovebox, mumbling about protection, but you stop him, fingers looping around his wrist.
“I’m on the pill, and I’m clean, I promise. You don’t need–”
He leans back, the grip on your hip tightening again.
“Fuck sweetheart, are you sure?”
You nod quickly, another “please” falling from your lips.
The grin on his face is downright feral as he hikes your dress up higher, eyes raking over your body. You’re sure that you look a mess, all intimate parts of you on display, your skin damp with sweat, your hair a wild nest. You curl in on yourself a little, but David won’t have any of that.
“Hey,” he growls, fingers digging into your thighs. “If I’m gonna do this, you’re gonna look at me and beg for it, are we clear?”
You lift your head, wide eyes searching his. Desperate to do what he asks, desperate for his approval. He’s gorgeous in the low lights, his cheeks flushed, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face and chest.
“Please,” you whine. “Please David, I need you.”
His movements turn frantic at your words, moving you around until you’re positioned just above him, your panties pulled to the side, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, already soaking him.
“Just one time?” he rasps once more.
“Just one time,” you agree. You’d agree to anything right now.
He pulls you down slowly, beginning to part your walls. You whine loudly at the stretch. It burns, but you relish in the feeling of getting filled by him, and his responding groan has your lips pulling up in a smile.
You keep sinking down, moving until he’s completely sheathed inside you and your eyes fall shut at the overwhelming sensation. His fingers are on your chin in an instant, giving your head a light shake.
“Nuh-uh, eyes right here, sweetheart,” he reminds you, gritting the words out. He twitches inside you and you force your eyelids to open again.
“Feels so good,” you whine, your voice reduced to a broken, breathless thing, but then he starts moving and you’re not able to form words any longer.
He rolls his hips up into you and you meet his thrusts with your own movements, clinging to his shoulders for dear life. His hands are everywhere, digging into your hips, pinching your nipples, gripping your chin whenever your eyes are starting to slip closed again.
So you keep your gaze obediently on him, your eyes locked, delighting in the way his face scrunches up in pleasure, in the sounds that are falling from his lips, matching your own.
“Good girl, taking me so fucking well,” he groans, his hand connecting with your ass in a light slap. An obscenely loud moan escapes you in response and you clench around him, more wetness covering his length and your thighs.
He stills and leans back to take in your heated face and blown pupils, an amused smirk forming on his face. “You liked that, huh?”
You nod, once again unable to meet his eye.
“Hey,” he demands, his fingers grabbing your face again. “Eyes on me, remember?”
Your gaze reluctantly trails up and his smirk grows.
“So…” he drawls, slowly picking up his thrusts again, “what exactly did you like, huh? When I called you a good girl… or when I did this?”
He smacks your ass again and you grind down onto him almost instinctively. You’re burning up in shame, but you obediently hold his gaze.
“B–both,” you whisper, in disbelief that you’re admitting this to him, but you feel too good to hold back now.
“Fuck,” he growls, his movements speeding up and his grip on your hips bordering on painful, “knew you were a dirty little thing.”
Another slap lands on your skin, harder than before, at the same time that he thrusts deep into you. The combined sensations are enough to throw you over the edge that you had been teetering on since he first touched you and you scream out his name as you fall apart.
He holds your shaking body close, cock grinding into you as you pulse around him and he groans, burying his face in your neck, spilling his own release deep inside of you.
“Fucking perfect,” he whispers, mouth pressing against your skin. “Can’t believe that you let me–”
You barely make out the words, ecstasy still coursing through your veins, but you lean into him, holding onto his broad shoulders, feeling like his body is the only real thing in your world right now.
You stay like this, entangled in each other’s embrace until your breaths even out and he carefully lifts your face, pressing one more kiss against your lips. It hits you suddenly, that this might be the last kiss that you share with him. Just one time, right?
He helps you to properly put your clothes back on, supporting your weight as you slink back into the passenger seat, before he pulls his pants back on and jogs up to his apartment to gather the paperwork for your father.
Your father. His friend. Fuck. Now that the lust-induced haze has lifted a bit and you’re able to think more clearly again, the weight of tonight’s events starts crashing down on you. He would kill you. He can’t know, no one can.
Dave returns within minutes, his brow furrowed as he takes you in. You think that he clocks the growing panic that is probably written all over your face. He reaches for your hand, slowly enough that you could retract it if you wanted to, but you long for his touch, for the reassurance of it.
“You alright?” he asks softly.
“Yeah.” You nod, trying to convince yourself as much as him.
He nods back, not prying, which you are grateful for, and starts the car, making his way over to your house. Your hand still clasped in his. Both your release and his pooling in your panties.
You only let go of him when he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine. You don’t think that your dad checks the footage from the security cameras regularly, but it’s a risk that you’re not willing to take.
“Thank you,” you mumble, once again unable to meet his eyes. “I– I had a great night.”
He smiles, appearing more relaxed than he’d been all evening.
“Me too, sweetheart. Good night.” You feel his eyes on you as you walk up to the door.
You shower, reluctantly washing away all traces of the evening and crawl into bed. You still feel his hands on your skin, the sensation following you into your dreams.
When the morning comes, hushed promises of just one time echo in your head, but the desire to do it again, for more, is burning through your body, consuming your thoughts.
“Hey Dad,” you ask, stepping into his office where he’s brooding over documents, “I think I left my jacket in Dave’s car, could you give me his number? Maybe I can go pick it up.”
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if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending in an ask – it’s really the thing that keeps writers going :)
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byhuenii · 1 month
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The Predestined and the Popstar — CL16
: Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader
SYNOPSIS Shes a popstar and He’s a famous F1 driver. . . who has a big crush on her, someone he’s never interacted with before so the grid tries to play matchmaker.
TROPE friends to lovers—matchmaker.
FACE-CLAIM Beabadoobee
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DISCLAIMERS !! there will be a bunch of typos, but that’s my fault most of the time i don’t proofread. this is going to be a mix of smau and written so you have been warned! probably a mix of 50% written 50% smau !!
01 - She doesn’t even know you.
02 - Lets actually make a plan first
. . .
( photo creds pinterest and instagram )
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jtl-fics · 11 months
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Fluent Freshman - Part 05
PREVIOUS
It might be objectively funnier if no one knows Fluent Freshman’s first name (even me because there’s some funny ideas but nothing as funny as “UNKNOWN” Smith) aside from Wymack.
Even the announcers just refer to him by his last name (maybe his first name is very foreign and hard to pronounce, maybe that’s why he got into foreign languages, maybe it’s so bland that the announcers just can’t his full name without yawning, maybe it’s just that someone else on the Foxes has the same first name so there’d be confusion, who knows) This only occasionally creates confusion because the Terrapins and the Ravens both have someone with the same last name as him.
Either way after one-two hit confidence crushing combo of the CVS girl knowing he has tummy trouble and the conversation with Neil where Neil asks about his stomach ulcers FF utilizes all of his years of learned behavior to fully fade into the background. Wallflower? No man I’m Wallpaper you cannot see me.” This has unintended consequences.
1. He has become undetectable which means that he is now, once again, hearing all sorts of relationship talk but now it’s not just between Captain Neil and Andrew Minyard and their surprisingly soft private life.
He is subjected to Nicky gushing to Erik in German. He has to listen to Kevin talk to someone named Jean in French (he only finds out later that they’re NOT dating but it sounds like date talk...though most of his experience is listening to Captain Neil and Andrew Minyard loving say they hate one another so maybe he has a bad pool of knowledge.) Matt, Aaron, Jack, and some of his other freshman players all speak in English but CHRIST he wishes it was in any language he doesn’t know. (If he hears Jack say ‘Yeah sure whatever Babe.’ one more time HE’S going to slap the asshole for being so dismissive to his girlfriend.)
2. He has become objectively better at being a defensive dealer because other teams just kind of don’t notice him and pass right to him. Kevin wants to study him on what about him makes him so adept at causing unforced errors in objectively better players. Fluent Freshman, having been yelled at by Kevin more than once, takes the moment Kevin’s eyes are diverted by Captain Neil saying something and just slides out of his seat into a different seat (Middle of the bus. The least noticeable section) and puts up his hoodie and pretends to sleep. (he does not. what if he drools? It’s already hard enough getting sleep in a room with two roomies. He got to campus earliest so that he could claim a top bunk so no one could see him even if heights make him nervous.)
3. Since he has become undetectable that means that Andrew Minyard and Captain Neil have a hard time detecting him. So he has not had to endure their silent judging company. He is sure that Andrew is waiting for him to slip and he’s also sure that Captain Neil thinks he’s stupid. No other freshman gets as much homework help from the Captain as he does. Still, he doesn’t have to sit in the silent knowledge that they both dislike him enough that they want him to know it. HIs ulcers are starting to get better and the girl at the CVS (He’d have to have a whole conversation to change where his prescription is filled and he’d rather die) didn’t even recognize him when he came in for a refill on his prescription or note that he was buying pepto bismol again.
HOWEVER
This means that Neil has come back with slumped shoulders and uneaten snacks the last five times he’s gone for his usual hangout. They are never planned hangouts it’s just that FF is always in the same 3 locations because there are only so many spots on campus where your back is completely secured and that weren’t so intimidating to go into (The library is terrifying. What if he sneezes???) and for the last two weeks Andrew has been unable to find FF outside of practice either.
(It has to be stated that FF is in the EXACT same spots as before but he is in stealth mode and therefore only visible if you are a mantis shrimp.)
Andrew Minyard does NOT like this. FF is THE singular tolerable teammate. Andrew likes the decompression time  he gets when him and FF sit in quiet and do their own things. FF never asks for his attention but occasionally offers him good german literature recommendations for every stage of literacy ever since Andrew had mentioned wanting to get better at the written language so he wouldn’t have to rely on Neil or Nicky when the Monsters vacationed there next summer. He doesn’t call people friend easily but FF is a friend.
So it’s incredibly irritating that for the last two weeks he’s been completely unable to grab that friend and ask what the hell is going on. The Foxes have histories and it wouldn’t be the first time a Freshman’s past caught up with them or that one of them had something set them back into old survival habits. It’d happened with Matt, it’d happened with Aaron and Andrew, it for SURE happened with Neil, Sheena’s coping mechanisms had been the bane of Andrew’s existence the year before, some of the other freshman had setbacks this year and a few players over the years have had to leave due to the very circumstances that gave them a home with the Foxes. Andrew had never really cared as long as his people were fine.
It’s just that Andrew actually kind of cares about this Freshman, he considers him as someone who could be one of his people.
Which is why Andrew will keep stalking the campus around FF’s preferred haunts until he grabs him.
Andrew catches him outside of stealth mode (He had been using a urinal that is NOT where you don’t want people to notice you) and grabs him by the scruff. “We’re taking a drive.” he says and FF just sort of goes limp and lets himself be dragged off.
He hopes that he can write his grandma a letter telling her how much her love and care over the years meant to him before Andrew kills him. He’d even take if Andrew would only let him write it in his own blood.
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NEXT
Per your requests:
@i-have-three-feelings, @blep-23
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birdiewriteslit · 2 months
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wildest dreams au: masterlist
luke hughes x f!actress!abigail abernathy
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fc: the beautiful, extraordinary milly alcock
background: abigail abernathy grew up in boston (yes, she’s a bruins fan). her dad and jim hughes go way back, and they kept in touch for years. a few times a year, abigail’s family would visit toronto and the hughes family would visit boston. abigail and luke are the same age, and they’re the closest.
abigail’s works: shameless, outer banks; upcoming: the summer i turned pretty season 3
go b’s
luke’s girl
happy new year!
issues and exes
the boys are back in town
talk to me, moose
jealousy
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bdoubleowo · 2 years
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I think truthing is best avoided because it’s incredibly invasive and parasocial and at the very least one should keep the behavior to yourself as to not make the cc’s uncomfortable, and that anything short of the full picture (something impossible to achieve as an outside observer) could be missing context and that friendships come in many forms and there are other ways to experience relationships aside from just romantic or platonic but also I think Dream is just actually full on /r in love with George I don’t know what else to say why does he act Like That
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ethansmask · 10 months
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staring at the sunset, babe ➶ 。˚ °
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pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader
summary: ethan takes y/n on a picnic date and surprises her with a dazzling gift!
warnings: none!! fluff!!!! LIKE SO SWEET IT JUST MIGHT GIVE YOU A STOMACHACHE!!!!!⭐️
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Ethan Landry had been planning a special date for y/n for a while, and finally, he came up with the perfect idea - a picnic in the park. He picked up y/n on a sunny Saturday morning, and they drove to the local park.
As they walked around, y/n couldn't help but feel curious about what Ethan had planned. "So, where are we going?" she asked with a smile.
Ethan grinned, "It's a surprise. You'll find out soon enough." y/n signed in anticipation.
They walked around until they found the perfect spot - a grassy area under a tree with a beautiful view of the lake. Ethan had prepared everything for the picnic. He brought a large blanket, a wicker basket filled with delicious food, and a bottle of sparkling cider.
y/n was impressed by Ethan's attention to detail and the effort he had put into planning the date. "Wow, Eth, this is amazing. You really went all out," she said, admiring the beautiful view. (and she’s definitely not talking only about the lake)
Ethan smiled, "I wanted to do something special for you, you always plan everything so perfectly I just wanted to do the same for you."
They sat down on the blanket, and Ethan poured them some juice. They toasted to their relationship and enjoyed the beautiful view. Ethan had packed a variety of foods, including sandwiches, fruit, cheese, and crackers. They started with the sandwiches, and y/n couldn't help but stare at his beautiful shimmering eyes.
"Mmm, these sandwiches are delicious. Did you make them yourself e? " y/n asked, taking another bite.
Ethan nodded, "yup, I did. I wanted to make sure everything was perfect for you. I even cut the crusts off because you hate them so much."
As they ate, they talked about everything. They laughed and joked around, enjoying each other's company.
After they finished eating, Ethan suggested they take a walk around the park. They held hands as they walked, enjoying the beautiful scenery and just being with each other.
When they returned to the blanket, Ethan surprised y/n with a homemade dessert - chocolate-covered strawberries and a beautiful necklace with a “e” hanging from it. y/! was touched by the effort Ethan had put into the date and how much he cared for her, and obviously the beautiful shiny necklace he had bought for her.
"Wow, Eth thank you, i love it. " y/n said, kissing him.
Ethan smiled, "I'm glad you like it, you know I bought it not because I own you or anything, but because I truly believe I really know you."
“you’re the best e, I love you so much.”
“I love you too doll.”
they kissed as the sun set behind them, taking along with him this unforgettable evening.
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a/n: IM SO SORRY I HAVENT BEEN UPDATING ON HERE!!! I HAD FINALS THEN TRAVELED AND STARTED WORKING WHEN I CAME BACK, but i promise i’ll be more active now since i’m more familiar and settled in with everything!!! enjoy this super short and quick story!! love you guys xoxo ⭐️💘
ps: make sure to follow the hashtag #ethansmask to get all of the latest posts!!
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pinkiebieberpie · 10 months
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i thought, "heaven can't help me now" .⁠。⁠*⁠♡✧⁠*∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠° nothing lasts forever, but this is gonna take me down •⁠ᴗ✧⁠*。⁠•⁠ 。⁠☆ he's so tall and handsome as hell
sam winchester moodboard || supernatural masterlist
++ tagging my sun ☀️ @ghostlyfleur
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Wildest Dreams 5
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Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, manipulation, lying. Tags are not exhaustive and more may be added as the series progresses.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: Andy Barber lost everything and you’re about to give him it all back. (dark!reader)
Characters: Andy Barber
Note: The bitch is back.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3
Love you all like snakes love Woody’s boots. Take care. 💖
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You enter the office and strut over to the desk. You put down the bag and unzip it as Andy shuts the door with a soft click. You reach inside and take out one of the wrapped subs.
“I made you a sandwich, honey. And there’s pasta salad. I also brought a thermos of coffee. Decaf, you have to cut back on caffeine,” you explain as you unpack the lunch, “and tonight, I think we could go for a quick shop–”
“What are you doing here?” He hisses as he nears the desk, “you can’t be here.”
“Oh, that’s silly. You are entitled to a break. You’re a lawyer, you know the law.”
“That’s not what I mean–”
“It’s really nice of me to come all the way down here and bring you lunch, isn’t it?” A edge hardens in your voice, “so, you’re welcome.”
He growls and stares at you. You turn and tilt your chin up at him defiantly. If anyone can handle him, it’s you. And only you. Your only natural talent is stubbornness, everything else you’ve worked tirelessly to hone.
“If you’re unhappy, you just have to put your foot down,” you face him completely. “You are the man so if you must put me in my place, do so.”
His brows furrow and he sighs. You wait. He doesn’t move. You let a laugh trickle up your throat.
“You have a choice right now, Mr. Barber,” you say, “you can sit and eat your lunch or you can…” you pause and slide the bag aside, then move the food out of your way. You set your feet flat and plant your feet, “spank me and send me home. Show me that you are in charge.” You look at him again and bat your eyes, “I will do whatever you like.”
He inhales and puts his hands on his hips, “I told you, leave me alone–”
“Stop with that,” you ball your fists and hit the desk, “you need me. You want me! I felt it last night and you did too. I had to clean your cum out of your underwear–”
“Enough,” he waggles his finger at you, “enough.”
“Do you want me to go, Mr. Barber?” You spread your palms flat again and push your ass out, wiggling it, “you better be clear with me. I need a strong hand to guide me.”
“I’m not doing this,” he insists.
“Well, I’m not leaving so… sit and eat your lunch.”
“What is wrong with you?” He snarls as he throws his hand out, “I am begging you–”
You stand straight and face him. He winces as you step closer but he doesn’t retreat. You grab his crotch and he grunts, catching your hand as he jerks his hips back. You giggle as he tries to pull you off him.
“You can lie, but your body can’t,” you taunt as you feel his dick, half-hard and twitching, “you can’t hold all that in honey, that’s what I’m for.”
“Stop,” he squeezes your wrist, “I’m at work–”
“You’re on break,” you insist, fondling him.
He rips your arm away and shoves you so you stumble back. You laugh as you barely keep from falling, your ankles bending in your heels. You give a devilish smirk and wink at him.
You reach behind your head and push down the top of your zipper, then bend on arm under to pull it the rest of the way. Andy exhales loudly as you let your dress slacken and you wiggle your shoulders free. He comes forward, grabbing at the dress as you push it further and further.
“Stop,” he hisses through his teeth, “don’t–”
You rip the dress past your waist and drop it to pool at your feet. You look at him, hands on your hips as you stand in a lacy white bra and thong. He recoils and clears his throat.
“You can’t do this,” he says weakly.
“You want to fuck me now?” You ask, “I can get in your lap. Bend over the desk?”
“No,” he crosses his arms and looks away.
“I can use my mouth again,” you get closer to him, “you could cum on my tits?” You press your hands to his chest and he flinches, his jaw gritting, “or I can use my hands…”
“Please,” his voice is hollow.
“It’s all up to you, Mr. Barber. You are in charge,” you caress the muscle of his chest, “you know I can’t fight you off. But if you want to tell me what to do, you better make sure I do it.”
“Enough,” he stills your hands, “I can’t–”
“You can–”
“No,” he insists.
“What’s the matter, hmm? I’m not like her, Andy. I’m not going to argue with you. Not if you put your foot down. So do it? Show me you’re the boss.”
“Don’t,” he growls.
“What?”
“Don’t talk about… her.”
“Andy,” you hum, “she’s dead. You need to move–”
Suddenly, his hand is on the back of your neck. You wobble in your heels as he turns you and pushes your head down. Your cheek meets the desk as you bring your hands to the wood. You don’t fight it, instead pushing your ass up.
The first slap makes you moan. The way his hand cracks off your ass ripples through your body and makes your legs shake. You smile as he does it again, harder, surer. His breath deepens with each strike, coming closer and closer together. Until your ass is raw and tingling.
He stops, his palm against your hot flesh. He lets out a long heave and drags his hand off of you as he lets go of your neck. He steps away and spins, scratching his beard as he shakes his head.
“Go home,” he demands as he rounds the desk, “not– go back to my house and don’t come back here. Understand?”
You stand slowly. You’re so wet. You want to just climb over him and make him finish the job. But you won’t. 
“Yes, Mr. Barber,” you step into your dress and pull it up. “I will see you when you get home.”
You reach under your skirt and roll your panties down your legs. You carefully unhook them from around your feet and drop them on his desk. He has his back to you, staring at the window as his shoulders are square and stiff. 
You grab your purse and shimmy happily, “have a good day, honey. I love you.”
He doesn’t say a word. It doesn’t bother you. He’s close. He can’t hold out for much longer. You know him. You know exactly what he needs. You are what he needs.
👗
You’re making dinner when Andy gets in. You hear the door and his footsteps, slow and sonorous. You wait for him to come say hello so you can ask him how his day is. He doesn’t. 
You smile at the steaming pan, scraping the wooden spatula off the bottom. He’s still afraid, but he doesn’t know why. He’s not scared of you, only of himself. He lost control in his office, showed his true colours, but doesn’t he know that’s exactly what you love about him.
You set a lid over the pan to keep supper warm. Your painstaking effort to make a new dish will not be put to waste. He will not be eating in his office or on the couch. He will come and sit at the table. This is a proper household.
You march to the door and listen. You don’t hear him. He’s hiding from you. Ugh, he needs to get over it. You are just trying to take care of him and it’s clear he can’t do that for himself.
You go upstairs and stop at the top. You hear him in his office, a low roll in his throat as the wheel of his chair squeaks. Nope, that’s not how this is going to go.
You continue down the hallway and enter his office without knocking. He’s tugging at his tie as you do. You stop before him with stone in your jaw.
“Can you not smell the dinner I’ve spent hours making for you?”
He looks at you, a ripple above his brow. “I have work–”
“You are done work,” you look at the clock on the narrow table in the corner, “it’s home time. You’re going to come eat dinner–”
“I am working,” he insists.
“Andrew.”
“Don’t,” he warns with a jab of his finger, “this is how it’s going to work, understand? You are going to stay away from me. If you insist on squatting here, keep out of my way.”
“Squatting? Pardon you,” you stomp your foot, “that’s not how you speak to me.”
“You are deranged,” he rolls closer to his desk, “do you not understand that?”
“You didn’t think so when I had your dick in my mouth,” you snap, quickly reeling back. “What I mean honey, is that I’m not the deranged one. You’re the one not seeing things clearly. You don’t know how much you truly need me.”
“I don’t,” he sniffs.
“You’re lonely, Andy. You’re miserable, you can’t just hide away every night with beer and paperwork,” you tut, “you need someone here with you. Someone to take care of you. That’s all I’m trying to do.”
“You don’t know me. You’re a fucking stalker but you don’t know–”
“No more beer, by the way,” you ignore him, “I emptied that thing.”
You point to the minifridge between the bookshelves, “it’s bad for you.”
“You what?”
“I’ve done a whole inventory. Gotten rid of all the junk. Made a list of what we need. Oh and of course, we have to clean the barbecue for next week.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We’re going to invite the neighbours, of course. Celebrate our engagement–”
“Engagement? What are you even talking– what engagement–”
You hold out your hand, displaying the ring to him, “I love it. Don’t you? It’s simple but elegant. Unlike that big old hunk of diamonds you got for the first one. You and me, we’re not like that–”
“You’re walking a fucking line,” he warns.
“You’re letting me,” you challenge tritely.
He sits back and huffs. His eyes roll back as his frustration tenses in his neck, twitching in his cheek.
“I can’t do this,” he breathes.
“Honey,” you soften your tone, “please, you’re stressed. We both know you doing all this…” you look around, “isn’t good for you. It’ll all catch up to you and I couldn’t stand to see you sick.”
“I’m not–”
“Shhh,” you come around the desk, “Andy, you carry so much stress.”
You touch his face and he leans away from you. You brush your fingertips along his beard and down to his neck. His jaw clenches as he stares past you.
“I’m not trying to destroy your life, Andy, I’m here to make it better,” you trail your touch down his shirt, “I only want to make you happy. I know it’s been so hard for you, so why don’t you let me make it…” you linger along the top of his fly, “easier?”
“Stop,” he breathes as he grips the arm of the chair.
“Make me,” you purr as you pick open his fly.
He doesn’t move. He shudders as you slide down his zipper. You don’t hesitate. You push apart the top of his pants and slip your hand beneath the fabric. You rub him through his boxers. He’s already getting hard.
You squeeze him until he groans and you lean in to kiss his forehead. You breathe into his hairline as you toy with him, his body constricting and his chest rising and falling fast.
“This is what you want. Even if you won’t admit it. But I’ll give it to you, honey, I’ll give you whatever you want,” You nuzzle his soft hair, “I’m ready for all of you.”
“Please…” he rasps as he pulls his head back, jutting out his chin.
“Please, what, baby?” You moan as you pump him through the cotton.
“I–” he chokes and closes his eyes.
As you play with him, his hips shift, and he trembles. Spurred on, your fingers crawl to the top of his underwear and dip beneath. You grip him, feeling the thick veins corded under his skin. You hold him firmly, moving your hand up and down, watching how he squirms and whimpers. You feel power in your very hand.
“Isn’t that good? I can be so good for you… so good to you,” you grab the arm of the chair and push it back. You get to your knees before him, watching yourself pump him, “don’t you want me to be good to you?”
You tug down the strap of your dress, then the other, all while keeping your hand moving. He grunts as you awkwardly shrug away the fabric. You pull down the strap of your bra, your tits popping free of the lacy cups. You angle his tip over the curve of your chest as you sidle closer.
“That’s it, Mr. Barber, you can do it…” you coax, “cum all over my tits. Come on, come on–”
Andy grunts and his pelvis jerks. He spasms as strings of cum shoot out across your skin. You smirk as you ease him through his climax, the warmth of his release dripping down your throat and tits. He shakes and you let him go gently. He dick pops up and twitches against his stomach.
He looks at you from beneath shroud lashes as you touch your slick chest, scooping up his cum and holding it up on your fingertips. You push your fingers into your mouth and suck off the salty flavour. He lip quivers as he gapes at you.
“Are you ready for dinner, honey?”
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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 2 months
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I am new on Tumblr since Wattpad wasn't really doing it for me but I have been obsessed with reading your stories and have recently stumbled on your story Wildest Dreams and I was just wondering if the story would be continued? I had seen that the last part was posted early December but was still curious.
It will be continued. I've always marked my stories as finished/on hold/discontinued in the masterlist when I'm done, so no worries as long as none of those are mentioned 😊 glad you've enjoyed reading what's out so far 💕
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1-800-iluvhockey · 2 years
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okay like I’m too excited and trying to finish it right now
but here’s a preview of the newest special fic!!
(it isn’t fully edited yet, so some of this will be italicized in the final draft)
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janaispunk · 20 days
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wildest dreams
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series masterlist • dbf!Dave York x f!reader
joelscurls masterlist • janaispunk masterlist
tags/warnings: explicit smut (18+ only, mdni), dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamic (reader becomes very dependent on Dave), dom/sub dynamics, angst, feelings, daddy issues, secret/forbidden relationship, corruption kink, able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, Dave doesn’t kill people in this, more specific warnings at the start of each chapter
follow @joelscurlsupdates and @janaispunknotifs for updates 🫶🏻
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chapter one: i can see the end as it begins
chapter two: no one has to know what we do
more chapters -> coming soon
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@joelscurls i love you so much!
dividers by @saradika-graphics 🫶🏻
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You know, I see a lot of older fans talk about "the 2020 fandom," and I truly think that was an unrepeatable situation. Not ONLY were we all on pandemic brain, but the author of the series had just announced for the first time that there wouldn't be a full book that year. We had all the free time in the world, zero content coming our way, and had just been left on a book where Sophitz broke up and Keefe got put into a coma. How could we NOT have gone absolutely feral? anything was possible
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cloudburst-ink · 3 months
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🌈 Free the gays from weird heteronormative top/bottom discourse 2k24!!! 🖤 (And by extension, the dom/sub associations that go with it!! Which are also a completely separate though sometimes overlapping concept!!!)
Write your violent angry murder blorbo getting railed!! Make that sweet shy angel baby a top! Make them both verse and throw the concept out altogether because it’s inherently a bit silly to start with!! ✨ And your personality in the rest of your life often has nothing to do with your bedroom preferences anyway! ✨
Or don’t! Do whatever you want because it’s fanfiction! 🥰✨ Write them with whatever dynamics or lack thereof that you want—that’s the point! And no one can tell you what is and isn’t okay to write in your own fics!! 🎊 They're fictional characters, have fun!!!!!
Happy new year fellow fandom gays!!! Go wild!
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conniesanchor · 8 months
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stop I saw your “you are in love” prompt and thought of spencer reid and wildest dreams
YES, THIS FITS SO WELL. this fic is a part of my 300 followers celebration!
spencer reid x fem!suspect!reader
summary: you're a suspect in a homicide. what happens when you fall for one of the fbi agents working the case?
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I thought Heaven can't help me now
Nothing lasts forever
But this is gonna take me down
when you heard a knock at your door, you didn't suspect anything. it was a friday night, so you figured it was just one of your girlfriends coming to pick you up to go to the club. when you opened the door to see two men standing there, your heart dropped. the man on the left was tall and skinny, his hair dangling in front of his eyes. if you weren't so afraid, you would've been more attracted to him. the man on the right had a darker skin tone, and he was more buffed up than the other one, "hello, mrs. l/n. im agent morgan, this is dr. reid. we're with the fbi, could we ask you a few questions?" the man on the right. asked, a silent request to come in.
you were concerned, but you let them in anyway, "yeah, of course. come in." you walked in, trying to tidy up in any way you could. "can i get you two anything?" you asked, your throat dry.
"no, that's alright. you worked with lani perez, correct?" dr. reid asked, he received a nod in response, "she was murdered last week. some of your coworkers have said you were the last one seen with her. do you know what happened?"
you shook your head, and if you had any saliva left in your throat before, it was gone now. how could she be dead? you just saw her yesterday. thoughts were flooding through your head, "um, no. i was the last one in the office, i think she might have said 'bye' or 'have a nice night', but other than that, no. we weren't that close." you rambled on.
after a few more questions that you didn't really listen to, but answered anyway, the agents made their way out. the taller one handed you a business card, "don't leave the state, be prepared to be called in for questioning at any time. right now, mrs. l/n. you are a suspect in the murder of lani perez." and then they left.
He's so tall and handsome as hell
He's so bad, but he does it so well
I can see the end as it begins
it wasn't long before you were called in for questioning. you sat in a cold, dark room, with only one window. you were in there for what felt like hours until the doctor that showed up to your house walked in. "i know how hard this must be for you, y/n. we aren't here to accuse you of anything, but you understand how it looks for you, don't you?" he asked, his eyes meeting yours intently. "you're gonna be here for a while. do you want water or something?"
"no. im okay."
he sighed, "for the record, i know you didn't do it. we just don't have any other leads. i know you're stressed, but you need to take care of yourself. let me get you water and food." he placed his hands on top of yours.
"okay." you couldn't really speak, and your hands were shaking too much. you were doing everything in your power to keep the tears from falling onto your face.
spencer moved toward the door to get you what you need. then, he turned around to do something that he normally doesn't do (and that would probably cause him to burn his suit at a later date), "do you need a hug?" he asked, and when he received a nod, he moved to wrap his arms around your neck. on instinct, you wrapped yours around his torso. you only stayed there for a moment, but you needed it.
Say you'll remember me
Standing in a nice dress
Staring at the sunset, babe
Red lips and rosy cheeks
your name had officially been cleared. however, another one of your coworkers had been killed the other day. you knew it couldn't have been a coincidence. after the second murder spencer himself had an officer put outside your door. it was weird how close you had gotten recently. he was checking in on you every night, and he even stayed at your house for a couple hours one night.
now, it was ten pm when you heard a knock at your door. you knew no one should have made it past the officer sitting outside. so you rushed up the stairs and locked yourself in your bedroom. you pushed your dresser in front of the door and closed your curtains before dialing spencer on your cell.
he picked up after the first ring, and before you could get a word out, there was a crash downstairs. "spencer," you whispered. "spencer there someone in my house. please help."
"im on my way, okay? just stay calm. i will be there soon. don't hang up," he started. you were thankful that the police station he and his team were based at were just down the road from your house. "where are you?"
you tried to slow your breathing, "im in my bedroom. the door is locked, and i put something in front of it, but im not sure how long it will hold him off," your words were rushed, and you were panicking. the only thing that was helping you was the sound of police sirens on the other line.
"okay, that's good. were two minutes out. just stay calm and quiet, baby." baby. your life was on the line, and all you could think about was the fact that he just called you baby.
as promised, it was only two minutes before you heard the police sirens outside your house. two gunshots went off, and all you could think about was spencer. you had only known him for a week, but it felt like longer. it felt like you already knew everything about him. you kept worrying until you heard his shaky voice, "y/n. are you okay?" he asked before pushing the door and the dresser out of the way.
you quickly got up from your resting spot on the ground and rushed toward him, throwing your arms around his neck. "it's okay. you're safe now."
You'll see me in hindsight
Tangled up with you all night
Burning it down
Someday when you leave me
I bet these memories
Follow you around
spencer and his team had stayed in the city for a while longer. you shouldn't be happy about another case popping up in your hometown, but it gave you more time with spencer. the short amount of time he did get away from the case he spent at your house. in your bed. spending time with you.
when they solved the new case, spencer had to leave. virginia wasn't that far from your hometown, so you and spencer agreed to make it work. you would take turns flying out each weekend.
Even if it's just in your wildest dreams, ah-ah, ha (ha-ah, ha)
a year later, you moved in with spencer. you found a job and you were happy.
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thank you sm for requesting ml. this is pretty angsty. hope you liked it.
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