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godsandmonsters505 · 1 year

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Roll Like Thunder | Negan Smith

dbf!Negan Smith (The Walking Dead) x younger fem!reader

(AU where the apocalypse never happened)

Summary: Negan is your dad's best friend and the two of you settle some tension while on your family vacation.

Warnings (18+): age gap (reader is college age, maybe 20-ish, and Negan's age is not specified but I'm feeling early 50s), smut (fem receiving oral, unprotected p in v), possibility of getting caught, edging

Notes: this actually kinda turned out sweet in a way I think, which is surprising because that's not often an outcome when I write for Negan lmao. not proofread yet because I just wanted to get it out to you all asap, but will edit if needed when I get the chance. hope you enjoy!! (also the intro is kinda long oops)

Grabbing your glass of wine you take another much needed swig, cringing at your dad and uncle. They always find some way to turn every conversation into a political argument while the rest of your family eat their meals and exchange knowing glances

Family holidays were always like this. The one time a year when everyone was together: your parents, aunt, uncle and cousins. Only this year, there was a new addition.

Negan had grown up being a close friends with both your father and uncle and they are still best friends to this day. He recently went through a messy divorce and this is his first Christmas without his wife in a long time. Your dad never was good with showing kindness or friendship, but your uncle had convinced him it would be a good idea to invite him to his cabin for your annual Christmas getaway.

And that's how you got here.

You'd always had a little bit of a crush on Negan, for as long as you could remember. Though you never saw much of him as a kid. It wasn't until you got older - old enough to be able to drink in front of your parents - that you got to spend more time with him. Drinking was a big part of their social life, so once you could join in, you got to know him better. You got on well with your parents so you'd have barbeques with them and their friends, join in with conversations in the kitchen when they'd have people over, go out to dinner. But then you went off to college and started spending less and less time with them. So now it's Christmas time, you're happy to be able to spend time with your family. And Negan, more than you'd care to admit.

"Okay fellas," your mom chimes in. "Enough of that."

Negan makes eye contact with you from across the other side of the table and you smirk at each other. You're both all too familiar with watching this from an outside perspective.

"The food's delicious, Negan," she adds, turning to Negan, who had cooked this meal for you all. Sort of as a thank you for letting him tag along. For the first few days in the cabin he felt a little out of place, like he was intruding on your family's time together. But eventually he began to find himself settling. You were lucky to have a very fun, non-judgmental family so everyone was happy to have him there.

You nodded in agreement with your mother's statement. "I'd have more if there was any left." You motion to your empty plate.

"I'm glad it's got your approval, ladies," he grins.

The meal comes to an end and alcohol starts flowing. Your cousins are all younger than you so they head off to their bedrooms to do whatever it is kids their age do.

"I'd better get these dishes cleaned," Negan declares, standing up from his seat.

"No," you say, protesting. "You cooked. I'll clean."

"It's fine, you don't have to," he says kindly.

"I want to," you smile. "Really I'm happy to."

"We'll do them together?" He suggests, coming to a compromise and you nod in agreement.

"You raised a stubborn one," he mumbles teasingly to your dad, patting his shoulder as he walks past him.

"She gets that from me," your mom chirps as the two of you pick the plates up from the table and carry them into the kitchen.

Putting the plates on the kitchen top, you head to the fridge and look inside.

"Beer?" you ask, peeking around the door to look at Negan's response. Though you already have two cans in your hand, knowing he won't turn down the offer.

He nods. "Can't do anything without a drink in hand in this family, huh?"

You close the fridge door and pass him his beer, cracking open his own.

"You should be more than aware of that," you tease. "I've heard what you and my dad used to get up to."

"I'm sure you've not even heard the most of it," he teases back.

You laugh softly under your breath at his response.

"I'll wash, you dry?" You suggest as the sink begins to fill with soapy water.

The two of you get the dishes done relatively quickly as Negan tells you a story from his college days. You have to keep yourself composed and remember who he is. Remember that these stories he's telling of him at your age took place before you were even born. A decade before, at least. But, every so often, as you pass him the plates to dry, your fingers touch his and such a small motion has you weak. You can't look him directly in the eyes as he stands so close to you. That signature grin of his spread across his face.

The two of your finish and you take a large swig of your beer, but it's no surprise that the flush of alcohol doesn't help your body heat. You can only hope and pray that your cheeks aren't beetroot red right now.

"I'm sure you've got plenty of stories, though, right?" He asks. "Being in college and all. And with your dad's genes...God."

A playful smile spreads on your face. "Sure. I'm absolutely not telling you though. My dad would have a heart attack."

"Ahh," he smiles back. "So this whole 'good girl' thing is just an act, then?"

Holy shit. Good girl? He has no clue what he is doing to you calling you things like that.

"I can be good when it suits me." You say, almost flirtatiously, and immediately kick yourself. Why the hell would you say something like that to him?

Your off-the-cuff reply has him grinning. He swipes his tongue over his teeth as he contemplates your words and you almost drop to your knees.

"Let's go see what political debate has become the talking point now," you say, changing the topic to hide your complete embarrassment. You leave the kitchen and head to the living room, Negan following.

Somehow, in the time it took you to wash the dishes, your mom and aunt have gone through a bottle and a half of wine, and they're sat on the floor with your dad and uncle playing some sort of drinking game.

You sit down on the couch and Negan sits next to you. Why? Why could he not just sit away from you? Give you some space to compose yourself? But the action is completely innocent. There is just less than a foot between the two of you, yet it still feels like he is on top of you. Like you're breathing the same air.

"What was I just saying?" Negan says, nudging your arm with his elbow. "Alcohol."

You shake your head in playful disagreement with your relatives' actions.

"Hey, mom," you say and her head whips around, as laughter escapes her lips. "Think you've had enough for tonight?"

"Oh, you're so boring," she waves her hand at you dismissively.

The four of them continue for about half an hour as you and Negan observe and laugh. The game finally comes to an end when your aunt and uncle discreetly head off to their bedroom for a reason you don't even want to think about. Your parents follow shortly after, your dad having to carry your drunk mom up the stairs.

You come back from the kitchen where you were getting another lager for you and Negan. As you do so, you look for the TV controller and find a blanket that was lying around. You sit down again next to Negan and look down at your phone to check the time.

"God, it's not even 10 o'clock yet." You laugh.

"Amateurs," he says sarcastically.

You pass him his beer which he thanks you for, then get under you blanket.

"Want some?" You ask, holding out some excess blanket towards him.

"Sure," he accepts, getting comfortable himself.

The whole situation you're in is completely innocent, but it dawns on you that you're currently alone with Negan, tucked under the same blanket. Given that fact, you make a conscious effort not to touch him at all and try to remain composed.

"Put a movie on?" You ask him, passing the TV remote to him.

He takes it from your hand, brushing his fingertips across yours.

You watch him carefully as he selects a film to put on, making sure not to get caught admiring him. He just looks so good. The salt and pepper sprinkled throughout his hair and beard. The tattoos that cover his arms. The way his white t-shirt hugs his body just right. You're brought out of your thoughts when he speaks.

"You seen Batman Returns?" He asks, looking down at you.

"Of course," you smile. "It's a classic."

"Feel like watching it again?"

You nod. You'll watch whatever he wants. Do whatever he wants.

"Absolutely," you answer. "I didn't peg you as a Batman kind of guy, to be honest."

"Like you say, it's a classic," he says. "Plus there's always Michelle Pfeiffer."

You laugh at him. "I feel you."

You polish off another beer as you watch the film. You try your best to pay attention, to keep your eyes open, but you grow increasingly tired. It must have only been fifteen minutes into the film when you finally drift off, reality slipping away.

When you wake up again, it takes a while to fully gain consciousness, You feel something under you head, under your arm, but you don't pay much attention to it.

You feel warm. Comfortable. You don't want to wake up, you could stay here forever. The smell of men's shampoo and cologne comforts you, a soft material under the touch of your hand.

All of a sudden reality dawns on you. You realise that your head is leaning on a shoulder. That your hand is draped across a torso. You shoot up, sitting upright and see Negan smiling at you softly through slightly hooded eyes.

"Oh God," you say, feeling incredibly humiliated. "I'm sorry." But he just chuckles.

You look over to the television and see a black screen.

"Did the movie finish?" You ask groggily and he nods. Fuck. You slept for the entire duration of the film and who knows how much of that time you spent laying on Negan's shoulder.

What you're only just realising now, though, is how close you're still sat to him. How even though you're sat up, Negan's shoulder is casually draped across the back of the sofa, dangerously close to your shoulder blades.

"Why didn't you just wake me up?" You ask, feeling flushed.

"You looked peaceful." He answers, honestly. "Didn't want to disrupt you."

"I'm sorry," you apologize again. "You should've woken me up."

"I didn't mind, sweetheart." He insists. "Honestly."

The pet name drives you utterly insane. As if this whole thing wasn't already enough. Your body feels so hot. What with the blanket, his body heat, your arousal.

"I will say though, you do talk quite a bit in your sleep," he smiles coyly and dread shoots through your entire body.

"Wh-what-" you can't even get a full sentence out. "What did I-"

A flash of a dream comes back to you in that moment. Oh God. Oh God, no. You can't remember the details, but you remember the feeling. Negan on top of you. His body weight on you. The ecstasy you felt. His hands on your body. His name slipping from your lips.

You had a sex dream about Negan while you were laying on his Goddamn shoulder. You're lost for words, but Negan is enjoying watching this play out. He bites his lip, trying to suppress his smug grin as he watches you realise the possibilities of what you might have said.

His arm slowly slips off the back of the sofa and creeps around to touch you, the movement making you flinch a little. What is he doing?

He takes his other hand and places two fingers just under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The two of you make eye contact and you can't even contemplate what is happening - still a little groggy from your nap - before his lips are coming down gently on yours.

You kiss him back almost immediately. It's a surprising delicate and intimate kiss, and you daringly bring your hand up to his neck to pull him in deeper, but he pulls back.

You worry that he is having second thoughts, but the look in his eyes says the complete opposite. He just wants to get a good look at you before he tears you apart. You feel vulnerable under his hungry eyes but you love how it makes you feel.

The two of you take a moment to catch your breath before your lips join again, this time the kiss rougher. More passionate. His arms wrap around your back to pull your body snug to his and you intwine your fingers into his hair, tugging ever so slightly. His large hands snake further down and grab your hips, pulling you onto his lap. As you get comfortable you shift along his length and gasp, feeling that he is already hard.

"You were practically fucking dry humping me in your sleep," he chuckles. "You can't blame me."

"So that's why you didn't want to wake me up, then?" You're barely able to mumble, teasing him.

"Hmm, maybe." You can feel him smile into the kiss and it makes you want him more. Everything about him is so endearing. He just radiates this warmth, this aura, and it's radiating.

Even now, however, you're nervous to move things along. You know what you want but this is still so surreal, and it would be an understatement to say you feel a little intimidated in this moment. You have enough sexual experience, but this is Negan. This is different. So you're glad when he takes control and begins to lift up your top, pulling it over your head to expose your bra.

His mouth makes contact with the flesh of your chest, sucking and nipping while he reaches around to unhook your bra. He feels his cock twitch when he sees your bare breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth immediately as his warm hands roam and caress your back, travelling over your smooth skin.

As you start to subconsciously grind into his bulge, Negan continues to explore your breasts. You're looking for any kind of relief and you begin to find some as he presses up into you, but both of your pants are restricting you.

You feel yourself crumbling further and further as Negan's hands come around to aid him with his attention to your breasts, squeezing and practically groaning as he does so. The noise changes something inside you, and makes you realise that you need him stripped of his clothes right this second.

You grasp the bottom of his shirt and he briefly pulls away from you to allow you to move it, but the second you're done, his lips are back on your skin, leaving marks on your collarbone and neck. Next, you move onto the buckle of his belt but he swats your hand away.

Pulling back from the kiss, you look to him with wide eyes full of confusion. That look alone is nearly enough to cause him to fold and fuck you right then and there. But he has other plans.

"Be patient for me, honey," he says sweetly, and as badly as you want him, you trust him.

He pulls your body flush to his, so that your breasts are pressed entirely against the heat of his chest. Then he grips your lower back and stands up, holding you tightly.

"We can't do this here," he says, carrying you towards the stairs. You grind up against him playfully as he does so and he stops momentarily half way up the stairs, clearly affected by the action. In retaliation he gently swats your ass and you giggle at his response.

"Shh," he hushes, but he can't hide the grin that spreads across his face as you bury your face in his shoulder to muffle the sound.

Being as quiet as possible, he takes you into his bedroom which - awkwardly - is across the hall from your parents' room.

He puts you down on the bed, barely allowing himself to be away from you for a second, climbing on top of you hastily. He goes back to kissing you, the taste of him intoxicating. The way he kisses are gentle yet so hot and passionate at the same time, becoming increasingly sloppy as they shift from your lips to your jaw, neck, chest, abdomen, until you're a writhing mess beneath him.

Once he has kissed so far that he reaches the waist line of your trousers, he unbuttons them and pulls them all the way down. He throws them onto the floor, leaving you just in your lace black panties. He nudges your legs open and moves his kisses to your thigh. He's slowly breaking you and you're not sure how much more you can take. Painstakingly slow, he trails his tongue up your inner thigh until he reaches the edge of your panties.

Eventually he slips your panties off and you tremble as you feel the cool air of his room against your hot, aching core. He places his hands on your inner thighs to push them open further, mouth watering at the sight of you. The delicate touch of his fingers send shivers up your spine and you're in desperate need of more.

"Please, Negan," you say, barely a croak.

"Shh, let me take care of you," he soothes, his voice low and gravelly as he tries his best to stay quiet. "Wanted to taste this sweet pussy for so long."

As if to affirm his words, he lowers his head and licks a stripe straight through your folds, groaning as he feels how wet you are.

He then moves his mouth to make contact with your clit, your hips raising at the action. He starts off by sucking gently, leaving you aching for more as you reach down to grab his hair, not knowing what else to do. He chuckles as you do so and sends vibrations straight through your core. Unable to control yourself, a moan escapes you lips and he squeezes your thighs warningly, wordlessly telling you to be quiet.

He takes his time to precisely pull you apart, but then his motions begins to get harsher, faster. You feel that rising feeling in the pit of your stomach begin to spread after waiting for what feels like so long. He alternates between kissing, sucking, licking, nipping until you're desperate for more. Sensing this, he teases one finger at your entrance.

"Please," you whimper, legs trembling. He answers your pleading by pushing his single digit inside you in one long push, as deep as he can go, and keeping it there momentarily. As he continues to eat you out, he begins moving his finger, fucking you gently. When he adds a second finger you have to clasp your hand over your own mouth to stop yourself from calling out his name. Your legs wrap around his head, wanting to pull him closer to you in any way possible.

Closing your eyes, you feel that white hot feeling flooding through your veins, but right as you're about to reach your peak, he pulls his fingers out and his mouth away from you.

You let out a guttural sound, one of desperation which causes Negan to laugh under his breath.

"Negan, God, please," you whine, putting both your hands on his head and pushing him back down.

"So bossy," he mumbles with a smile on his face, but he obliges.

He doesn't use his fingers on you again, but it makes no difference. You're already pent up enough as it is that it won't take a lot to make you reach your peak. Plus, you don't doubt that Negan's skillful mouth is more than enough for you.

He circles his tongue around your clit, going back to sucking while using his free fingers to absentmindedly trace little patterns into your thighs. The only noises are your heavy pants and the wetness of his mouth against you, and it fills the otherwise deadly silent bedroom.

He's starting to become more familiar with your body and your reactions and he can tell you're getting close again. To which he stops and pulls away yet again.

"Negan," you almost cry. Tears prick in the corners of your eyes as you throb for him. "Please, I need to-"

"I got you baby," he assures you, stroking the flesh of your thighs comfortingly.

You can't bare it. You almost despise him for doing this to you, but you can't. It's all so surreal: having this man between your thighs. So often you have fantasized of it and though it's so wrong, it's now happening.

Before you can beg again, his lips make contact with you. This time he's a man on a mission. His tongue flicks against your clit as two of his fingers slip back inside you. You're so wet that it's an easy motion, but you still feel the tight, delicious stretch. He allows you to get used to it, building you up until he adds a third finger and you have to use all your power not to yell out his name. You try your hardest not to hurt Negan by squeezing your thighs too much or pulling his hair too hard, but he loves it. He loves driving you crazy, seeing you unwind for him. The noises you make. The taste of you.

Relentlessly, he penetrates you with his fingers, pushing and curling his fingers deep inside you, hitting a spot that eventually brings you your release. One last push, one last flick of his tongue and you're falling over the edge. You squeeze your eyes shut and you can't help the animalistic sound that leaves you as white flashes behind your eyelids. He continues eating you out through your orgasm and it hits you that you think you're doing something you never have before.

Once you manage to come around again, you let your legs relax and look down to Negan who looks up at you. He smiles smugly, your wetness remaining in his beard and it causes you to go weak in the knees.

"Did I just-?" Squirt, you want to say. But somehow it doesn't seem like the nicest word to describe what just happened between of the two.

He nods with a glimmer in his eyes as he makes his way up the bed, his body above yours.

"I've never-" you croak. "I've never done that before."

"You just needed a man, that's all," he gloats and you roll your eyes. "It was hot as fuck, for what it's worth."

He leans down and places a soft kiss on your lips. You can taste yourself on him.

You're still shaking a little, but you manage to pull back a little to look him in his eyes.

"Are we really doing this?" You ask, bordering on timid.

"Do you want to?" He counters.

"Yes," you say, quickly, not wanting him to think you're having doubts. Because there is absolutely no doubt in your mind that you want the man above him. Hell, you need him. But somehow you find yourself feeling a little insecure and needing reassurance. "Do you?"

"Darling," he laughs. "Not to be crude, but you just came all over my face. I want this more than you know."

You nod and smile, feeling more confident. "I'm sorry, I just-"

He interrupts your babbling with a long kiss to your lips, silencing you.

"You need to worry less," he says, bringing his hand to stroke your cheek sweetly.

"Make me." You propose flirtingly, smiling up at him.

"That I can do." His lips crash down on yours and his tongue intertwines with yours.

Reaching down to his pants you fumble with his zip, which he helps your shaky hands undo. He shifts both his pants and boxers down off his ankles, and though you can't see his length fully from this angle, you can feel its hardness press against your lower stomach and he feels big.

"You ready, baby?" He raises his brow at you as he grips his member and teases it through your folds.

"Yes, please Negan," you pant, even after having the best orgasm of your life, you still need more. "Need you inside me."

He groans as he slips inside of you and the way you practically beg for him drives him crazy.

"So fucking tight, holy shit," he mumbles into your ear, his head dropping down to bite and suck on the crook of your neck. "Oh, baby, fuck."

Hearing him say such obscene things affects you in an indescribable way. His voice has always been massively attractive to you, but now...you're done for. The deep rumble, smooth like honey, even lower in an attempt to remain quiet to your family in the surrounding bedrooms. It's like dark magic. It has you hooked. He could say the right thing to you with that voice and you'd cum right there and then.

His movements are slow, savoring the sensation of you around him. He wants to take his time with you. He never wants it to be over.

Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his back and lift your hips up wanting more from you. He maintains his pace, but does start pushing deeper inside you like you wanted.

"I've wanted you for so long," you say, not even in control of your words anymore. It's like he's fucking them right out of you. He moans into your neck at your admission and starts thrusting a little faster, as if in response to your statement.

"Do you know-" he stops speaking for a moment to breathe and compose himself, clearly enjoying this as much as you, "how often I get myself off thinking about you?" He punctuates his point with a particularly hard thrust and that - in combination with the idea of him masturbating to the thought of you - causes you to cry out. You thought he would shush you, but he seems too far gone at this point.

"A fucking pretty little thing like you," he says, his hands groping at your tits, his touch rougher than before, "it'd be hard not to."

"Oh god," you whimper. "Harder, please."

His movements get harsher gradually, following your command and getting you closer and closer every second.

He lifts his head up and the way he looks at you makes your insides collapse. To be the sole object of his attention. How he looks at you like you're all that ever mattered.

"I'm so close, Negan," you tell him.

"Taking me so fucking well, darling," he praises, reaching one hand down to lazily play with your clit. That's all it takes and he can feel it coming as you begin to squeeze around him. He takes your lips in a long, sensual kiss as you climax, trying to muffle your moans as he fucks you through your orgasm. Your hands are wrapped around his back, squeezing into his shoulders as you try your hardest to be quiet. Pure pleasure surges through your veins as he presses his entire body weight into you: suffocating in the most beautiful way possible.

Gradually, Negan's movements come to a halt and he stops moving inside you briefly, letting go of you come down from your high.

"You're gonna be the fucking death of me," he declares and before you can reply, he suddenly starts moving inside you again, faster than the last time, placing a quick peck on the tip of your nose as he does so.

He soon reaches a pace much faster than before and you're rendered speechless.

Your attention is grabbed, however, by the open and shut of a door somewhere. You gasp and your eyes widen at the sound. The possibilities of who it could be and if they'd heard you start to race through your mind but your thoughts are cut off when Negan clasps a hand firmly over your mouth to keep you quiet. He presses you further into the mattress as he fucks you even harder than before, enjoying tormenting you.

You listen closely to the footsteps. They're quite loud - that of a man - probably your dad or uncle. The pitter patter grows closer and your heard races, both from the fear of getting caught and from the sensation of Negan deep inside you. Hitting places you're sure no other man ever has or ever could. You relax a little as you hear the footsteps pass Negan's bedroom and head into the shared bathroom, the door closing afterwards.

Negan takes his hand off your mouth and you gasp for air.

"Oh my god, please don't stop," you beg as he sets a pace and sticks with it, snaking his slender fingers back down to your clit and circling it gently.

"I don't plan on," he chimes. "You're taking me so well."

You've never felt anything like this. Your entire body is numb and slick with sweat. All you can do is grab onto his hair and try your best to lift your hips to meet his thrusts.

To help you out, he grabs your body and switches positions slightly. He lifts himself up then clutches your thighs, lifting them onto his shoulders. Then his hands grip onto your hips and he has access to you in a way that allows him to go much deeper. You know you can't take much more. You're close to crying just from how much you want to scream his name.

Your eyes keep fluttering shut but you force them opening, wanting to keep them on the man doing this to you. His tousled hair, his flexed biceps, his tattooed chest.

"Harder, please," you whisper. "I'm nearly there."

Thrusting harder, he also adds his fingers back to your clit, rubbing harshly. It's almost painful on your sensitive nerves but it feels unreal and it's enough to build you up to near-ecstasy.

Your mouth hangs open but you refrain from making any noise. In one unexpected motion, he lands a slap to your clit and it sends your orgasm rushing.

"Good girl, that's it," he guides you through as your body starts to spasm.

He continually pounds into you and turns his head to the side to place soft kisses to your inner thigh, contrasting the way he now ruthlessly moves inside of you.

You contract around him as you cum and you can tell he is trying his hardest to hold on as he visibly hesitates, not knowing where to release.

"Cum inside me, Negan," you give permission. "Want it so bad."

Those words were all he needed as he spills inside you, the warm liquid filling you.

Gradually, his movements slow down as he fucks you through the both of your orgasms, fucking his cum deeper inside you, and then pulls out and collapses next to you.

You rest your head on his shoulder and to your surprise, he pulls you closer to him, placing a kiss to your forehead.

"Holy shit," you giggle, the whole situation setting in.

Negan's about to speak but his sentence stops forming when the bathroom door opens and closes again. You'd completely forgot about that.

The two of you exchange a glance as you wait for the footsteps to disappear down the hallway. Once they're gone, you relax back into his embrace.

Absentmindedly, you place your hand on Negan's warm chest, tracing the ink of his tattoos. Its surprisingly comforting having him this close, to be held by him. You're entranced by the smell of his cologne and the way his chest heaves up and down, catching his breath. He smiles as he watches you, equally as entranced by you. He can't quite believe that the daydreams he thought were exactly that - daydreams - have come to life.

"We'll have to do this again," he grins coyly, "some place where you can scream my name as loud as you need to." His hands run over your body, cupping your breasts as if to appreciate as much of you as possible.

"I'd like that," you smile back, snuggling into his arms. You know you can't stay here all night, but you'll appreciate it for as long as possible.

#negan fic #negan x reader #negan twd #negan smut #negan smith #the walking dead fanfiction #jeffrey dean morgan smut #jeffrey dean morgan #negan smith smut

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urfavstargirl1 · 1 year

Text

teach me - e.m. x fem!reader blurb

Summary: best friend!Eddie teaches inexperienced!reader how to kiss… among other things

a/n: i know this prompt has been written to exhaustion but I wanted to try putting my own little spin on it and use it as a warm up piece since I haven’t written in weeks

Cw: 18+, minors dni, kissing, making out, handjob, Eddie and reader are best friends, cuddling in the trailer, if st4 never happened

It was movie night at Eddie’s place. You always went over to the trailer on Friday’s. Eddie’s uncle, Wayne, was usually out at work, and you and Eddie never did anything more than order a pizza and check out a movie or two from Family Video.

Tonight’s movie was Pretty in Pink. Your choice, for obvious reasons, but you had to absolutely beg Eddie to watch it. You compromised by letting him choose the second movie for the night, which of course had to be a horror film.

You started the night with your movie. And once the pizza and snacks were eaten, you and Eddie had gone to lay down on the couch. You were on top of him, with your head on his chest and legs between his. You could feel the soft hum in his chest and the warmth of his body against yours.

He would absent-mindedly play with your hair or run his fingers along your back as you watched yet another Molly Ringwald movie, slowly adding itself to your collection of favorite movies.

You would make little comments here and there, like you usually do, and halfway through the movie, even Eddie had started getting into it.

“Nah babe, she should’ve ended up with Duckie,” he passionately exclaims at the scene where Andie arrives at the school dance and leaves Duckie for Blane. “And what kind of name even is Blane? It’s like, do you want your kid to be a dickhead?”

You laugh at his comment, silently agreeing.

You were sort of in a similar predicament to Andie. Well, except for the part where a popular boy takes an interest in you. But in a way, Eddie is like your Duckie. You’ve been friends for as long as you can remember and were always thick as thieves. Eddie knew you inside and out and you knew him better than anyone else.

In fact, there’s no one you can think of who could possibly take his place. There’s no one else you’d rather have movie nights or joy rides around town with than Eddie.

For some time, you’d been harboring a crush on Eddie, but you knew he couldn’t possibly feel the same way. He was your best friend, and his friendship meant way too much to you. You weren’t sure if your feelings for him would be worth the risk of losing him.

And for the time being, most of your friends already treated you like a couple, so you could at least pretend.

You continue to watch as the movie nears its end. You drag your fingertips along the fabric covering Eddie’s chest and watch as Andie goes outside and sees Blane. The shot transitions to a close up of Andie and Blane facing each other. And for a moment, they just look at each other, before moving close and just kissing each other. Their lips move swiftly and mouths connect like pieces of a puzzle. It’s hot. It’s passionate. It’s eager. You’ve never seen anything like it.

A sharp gasp escapes your lips and you tense up. Eddie feels you and turns his head toward you.

“Hey, you okay?”

You move your head from its comfortable place on his chest and look up at him, your faces inches apart.

You interlace your fingers together on the middle of his chest and prop yourself up a bit. You nod.

“You sure?” He asks, eyes cast down at you.

“Yeah,” you reply nervously. You turn your head to look back at the screen and engulf the view before you. Andie and Blane have their arms tightly wrapped around each other, like they want to be as close to each other as humanly possible. And the way they kiss is just… like they hunger for the other. Like they’re in a desert and the other person’s lips are the only source of water for miles.

“It’s just, I’ve never seen anyone kiss like that.” You furrow your brows and cock your head to the side. The vision of such a passionate kiss stirs something deep inside you that you had no idea existed until now.

Eddie lets out a breathy laugh, “You mean, a french kiss?”

You look back at him and into his eyes before timidly looking away. The credits begin to roll and you move from your place atop him to sit on the other side of the couch.

“Yeah, but like, a really… I don’t know… Aggressive one. Usually in the movies it’s like a soft kiss that only lasts for a moment or two. But that? That was like…,” you breathily explain, not even sure how to articulate what you just saw or how it made you feel.

Eddie looks at you in amused confusion. He sits up and leans forward to comfortingly run his hand along your calf.

“Do people really kiss like that?”

Eddie shrugs and nods, “Yeah, sometimes.”

Your eyes widen and your eyebrows shoot up.

Eddie chuckles, “There’s a lot of different ways to kiss, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” you gasp and look away, lost in thought.

“You’ve never been kissed like that?” Eddie asks curiously.

Now, being best friends with Eddie means he knows a lot about you, even the fact that your experience with kissing and touching is, well… minimal to say the least. And if it weren’t for Eddie’s relaxed and supportive demeanor, you probably never would have told anyone else.

“Eddie, I mean, if something like that happened to me, I’m pretty sure I’d tell you.”

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow at the thought. The vision of you kissing another boy that wasn’t him like that almost makes him sick.

“What about that kid Kenny from summer camp? Didn’t you say you guys kissed?”

You make the noise of a scoff that turns into a laugh, “Yeah, but Eddie, c’mon, that was middle school. When middle schoolers kiss, it’s just a peck on the lips, if that.”

Eddie nods and looks away for a moment. You can see the gears turning in his head, but have no idea what he might say next.

“So that’s the most you’ve ever been kissed? Just a peck?” He asks in an inquisitive tone. Like he’s not asking to make fun of her, but to get a better picture in his mind of the extent of her physical experience.

“Um, yeah I guess. When you put it like that,” you reply, shyness slowly taking over.

Sex and anything physical wasn’t exactly off limits for you and Eddie. If anything, he was probably the only person you ever felt comfortable talking about this kind of stuff with. But it was all… a bit theoretical. At least for you.

Eddie was objectively much more experienced than you. He’s even told you stories of the things he’d done. When you were younger, it was interesting to hear because you knew so little. It was like Eddie was your teacher, transmitting whatever knowledge he learned through his experience to you.

But as you got older and he continued to have these experiences while you didn’t, it began to feel intimidating to think of just how much more experienced he was than you. Especially now.

Surprisingly, you’d never really thought of doing any of those things with Eddie. For some reason, he always felt off limits in that way. There were a few times where you caught yourself thinking of what it would be like to kiss him and it always made your chest feel warm. But you could never bring yourself to think of doing anything with him past that. It just felt too invasive or intense.

And besides, it’s not like he would ever think of you that way, right?

“Well, do you want to know what it feels like?” He looks at you.

“Huh,” you ask, shaking away the thoughts you just had.

“Do you want to know what it feels like,” he repeats, briefly looking over at the tv and back to you.

You cock your head to the side. “You mean, french kissing? Like that?”

Eddie nods.

“Um, yeah, I guess so. It looks like it would feel nice, but, you know, it’s probably gonna be a while till I actually do.”

Eddie cocks a brow up.

“Because I’m not dating anyone. And there’s not exactly a whole line of suitors waiting down the block just to–”

“Alright, I’m gonna stop you there princess,” Eddie laughs as he waves his hand. He shakes his head and scoots closer to your place on the couch. “What I meant was, if you want to know what that sort of kiss feels like, you can always try it with me.”

You jerk your head back slightly and widen your eyes, “What?”

“It could be like practice.”

You gasp and look between his eyes. There’s no way Eddie just said that. Your lips are slightly ajar, ready to give some sort of sarcastic response you always give, but you come up with nothing.

“Are you… You’re serious?”

Eddie softly smiles, the kind that makes your insides turn to goo. He nods, “It’s ok, babe. I don’t mind showing you the ropes.”

You gasp and roll your eyes but then they accidentally roll to the back of your head.

“If you want to. It’s up to you, sweetheart.”

You blink rapidly, trying to wrap your mind around the offer he’s just thrown on the table, quite haphazardly you might add.

“Would you really do that Eddie,” you ask incredulously.

“Sure, why not?”

“Eddie, you're being way too cavalier about this,” You nervously chuckle.

Eddie furrows his brows in confusion.

“This-This is a big ask Eddie. I have no idea how you’re being so casual about this.”

Eddie shrugs, “You’re my best friend. I would do it for you.”

Eddie wants to kiss you as a friend? Because he cares about you as a friend? This just isn’t making sense.

“Why?”

“I know you’ve been waiting for a while. Probably for that special someone, right? I know I’m not exactly him, but I think I’m pretty damn close.”

Oh Eddie, you have no idea.

“Besides, as your best friend, I think it’s my responsibility to make sure you’re prepared for when he does come along.”

You roll your eyes at his audacious attitude. “That’s not exactly your responsibility Eddie.”

He shrugs, “Still, if you let me, I think I could be a pretty good teacher.”

“Eddie, I’ve let you teach me how to play guitar or dungeons and dragons, but this? I’m just…”

“It’s okay if you don’t want to, sweetheart. I just wanted to put it out there, in case you did.”

“No!” You exclaim, surprising yourself and Eddie. “I-I’m just… I-I kind of would want to but-but I don’t know. I just wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t expecting any of this to happen tonight. And I definitely wasn’t expecting to have my first real kiss with someone like this.”

Eddie moves closer and cups your cheek with his hand.

“Hey,” he whispers. You peer into his hypnotizing eyes, shallowly breathing before him. “If you let me, I promise to take such good care of you.”

You maintain your gaze as your breathing becomes even more shallow. Slow baited breaths fall from your lips. You blink rapidly and place a hand over his.

“Really,” you ask in a squeaky voice.

Eddie nods and briefly looks down at your lips. He looks back up into your eyes and whispers in a deep voice, “Can show you a couple tricks while I’m at it.”

He winks and your eyes widen. “Does that sound good?”

You’re rendered speechless, but have enough functioning brain cells to nod.

“Before we get started, I want to try something.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, “Okay?”

“French kissing is more than just pressing your lips to someone else’s, babe. So I think you should know how to move your lips and how to use the other parts of your mouth before we do anything.”

“What?” you gasp, trying to wrap your mind around what Eddie’s saying.

“I’m gonna show you a trick. This is how I used to practice on my own. Then you start practicing with another person, but it helps to have an idea of what you’re doing before the kiss has even started.”

“Oh,” you nod in confusion.

“So what you’re gonna do is take your index finger. Now move it horizontally and bring it close to your lips,” Eddie instructs and you do as he says.

“Part your lips a bit, just enough so that your finger fits between them. Yeah like that,” he says.

You cast your gaze down, slightly uncomfortable looking Eddie in the eyes.

“Now, relax. Make sure your lips are soft. Don’t want them to be tense.”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion and widen your lips a bit, gauging for how tense or relaxed they are, before softening them and keeping them wide enough for your finger to fit.

“Now, it’s gonna sound weird, but just kiss your finger. You’re gonna want to start so that your lips fit around your finger, then you slowly want to close them till they’re shut. I’ll show you.”

Eddie takes his own index finger between his lips and looks you in the eye as he imitates the gestures. Your throat grows dry at the sight.

“Now, you try.”

You look down at your finger and blink. You close your eyes and bring it closer to your lips. You brush your lips over your finger till they touch and you seal the touch with a kiss, lightly making a small smack sound.

You gasp at the noise and the sensation, fluttering your eyelids open.

“Perfect. That was great.” Eddie excitedly says. You look up at him and shyly smile.

“Now try doing it again a few more times.”

“A few more times? Eddie! When are we gonna…” You cut yourself off. Realizing how eager you sound.

Eddie smirks and laughs. “Patience, babe. I promise, this stuff really helps.”

“Okay, I guess.” You shrug and practice kissing your finger a few times.

“Does it feel okay?”

You shrug, “Yeah, feels fine.”

“Okay, now I want you to try again, but this time, try adding your tongue.”

“My tongue?”

“Yes, babe, your tongue,” he chuckles.

You blink in confusion before bringing your finger back up to your lips. You close your eyes and brush your lips over your finger, letting your tongue lightly graze the skin before sealing the kiss.

You pull away slightly and open your eyes, brows furrowed. “Did I do it right?”

“It was hard to tell, your finger was covering your tongue. But if it felt right then yeah.”

“Eddie, how am I supposed to know what feels right? I’ve never done any of this before.”

Eddie comfortingly places a hand on your outer thigh and squeezes. “Hey, I know it seems really confusing. But the thing is, your body knows a lot more than your mind does. Just pay attention to what things make you feel good.”

“Okay,” you nod.

“Remember, this is supposed to feel good. You’re supposed to feel relaxed. If anything hurts or makes you feel tense then something’s wrong. And if it is, then I want you to tell me, okay?

You nod, taking in his words.

“We’re gonna start off slow, okay sweetheart? I’ll warm you up a bit first.”

“Huh,” you blink.

“Here, lay back,” he whispers. He moves back and gestures for you to lay down on the couch.

You shuffle to lie down with your back flat against the couch seat and look up at Eddie as he moves the blanket you two were using earlier to the ground.

He sniffles and moves the long sleeves of his henley up his forearms. He brings a knee to the side of your leg closest to the back of the couch and places a hand on either side of your face.

“Normally, you don’t really have to announce every single thing you do before you do it, but I will since it’s your first time,” he says.

“Ok,” you gasp.

“So, I’m gonna start by kissing different parts of your face first. Then I’ll move to your lips.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

Eddie’s hair hangs above you like a waterfall. He slowly starts to move downward and you close your eyes. You feel Eddie’s soft lips press against your forehead. He slowly inches down to your nose, then to your cheek. He places a hand along your neck and presses little kisses along your jaw.

Without even thinking, you reach out for him. One hand finds its way to his neck and the other to his shoulder.

His lips trail to your neck where he leaves warm open mouthed kisses that make your insides feel relaxed.

“Feeling good?” Eddie asks.

“Mhm,” you hum as you flutter your eyelids open. The soft light of the lamp on the side table glows around him. His warm eyes and soft lips beckon you toward him

“I’m gonna kiss you on the lips this time,” he whispers, lips hovering a few inches above yours. “And for now, just follow my lead, okay? If at any point you want to stop, just let me know.”

“Okay,” you nod and close your eyes.

Eddie moves down and gently brushes his lips on yours. Sort of like how he taught you to kiss your finger the first time. Even though your lips are closed while his are apart, you feel the warmth of his mouth a bit.

“Part your lips a little,” he mutters.

“Oh, right” you whisper and part your lips with the motion of your words.

He kisses you again, this time letting your top lip fit between both of his, his bottom lip between both of yours. You kiss him back and hum at the sensation. You start to feel him smiling against your lips.

He kisses you again this time letting his top lip fit between yours. You continue to kiss like that, alternating the feeling of your lips between each others. Little by little Eddie guides you to part your lips more and more as each kiss melts into the next. You start to feel more of the warmth in his mouth.

Your left hand moves to rest along his neck, with your thumb stroking the skin of his clean shaven jaw. Your right hand moves up to his hair, fingertips coming through his roots. He groans into the kiss before you rest your hand to cradle the back of his head.

Eddie uses the hand that isn’t currently propping himself up to touch along your neck, travel along your arm and end up on your waist. He squeezes lightly before hooking his arm around your mid-back. He leans down more and brings your body up, flush against his. Without even thinking about it first, your body responds by arching your back.

You guess Eddie was right. Your body does know more than your brain sometimes. Even your body knows how much it wants him.

You focus your attention back on Eddie’s lips, breathing through your nose so as not to break the kiss to catch your breath.

You’ve found a perfect rhythm together. The kiss is at just the right pace. Just the right amount of back and forth. Not too much pressure. It’s just perfect.

And god, you can’t believe how good it feels to touch Eddie like this. To feel him like this. It feels like your lips were made for each other. Like kissing was invented just for you and Eddie to know pleasure.

When you started, it was like you were just an ice cube, and slowly, Eddie’s been melting you into a puddle of water.

And just when you think you’ve fully melted, Eddie decides to turn up the heat a bit. Between kisses, Eddie slips his tongue in and glides it swiftly along your bottom lip. You gasp into the kiss. It throws your mind off guard, but your body knows just what to do.

On the kiss after that, your tongue imitates his, mirroring his movements. Eddie hums into your mouth and your back arches slightly.

Something shifts after that. The blood in your veins pumps a little faster. Your breathing is a little deeper, bringing more oxygen into your system. Your skin hums with electricity. Your senses heighten. You want every inch of your skin to be touching every inch of Eddie’s skin like two magnets being pulled together by their opposing poles.

You feel your head moving forward and back as your kisses with Eddie get faster, more aggressive. Like your mouths are trying to explore every single possible way they can fit together.

Your heads tilt from side to side and you feel his nose brush against yours. You hook your arms around his neck, letting your fingers roam through his scalp and the warm skin of his face. You whimper needily into his mouth. Sounds of pleasure escaping your lips.

To touch Eddie was one thing. To feel him was a whole other thing. But to taste him? Oh god, there is no going back.

Kissing him like this makes you feel so alive. The feeling of his lips and tongue and mouth intertwined with yours is intoxicating beyond belief.

Eddie Munson has become your new favorite flavor.

As your kisses deepen and speed up in pace, Eddie switches his hands, moving the left one to hold himself up and the right one to touch you. He hikes your left leg up and hooks it around his waist.

You whine into his mouth and pull back slightly. You hear Eddie’s haggard breathing.

“Oh Eddie,” you moan before connecting your mouth back to his.

You two resume kissing. It’s an all-consuming kiss. Like your brain has turned off and everything else in your body has turned on. Just for Eddie.

And it appears that the same has happened for Eddie. He begins to grunt and hum in your kisses. He hungrily touches and squeezes you along your waist and hips, reaching below the fabric of his shirt you borrowed to press against your skin. Your kisses become faster and sloppier.

Interspersed between kisses, he’ll bite your bottom lip, making you gasp against his mouth. You try biting his lip back. Your kisses have become so fast that you can’t find the right moment. Until one particularly quick pause between kisses he uses to catch his breath. When he brings his lips back to yours, you fit his bottom lip between your teeth and lightly apply pressure.

Eddie groans and you smile, feeling triumphant at your successful move. You continue to kiss like that, going through waves of fast and harsh kissing to slower, more melodic kissing.

You didn’t realize it would go on this long, kissing. Or, you didn’t realize you and Eddie would be kissing for this long. The kiss in Pretty in Pink only lasted for the last few minutes of the movie. You have no idea how long kissing Eddie has been. Could be a few minutes or a few hours.

You could go on for the rest of the night if he let you. There’s no place you’d rather be than in Eddie’s arms. Till his arms get tired and he breaks the kiss.

His breathing fans your face until he moves away from your face and sits back on the other side of the couch. You look at him through hooded eyelids. He moves his shoulders and flexes his fingers.

Your body is so full of light yet feels like it weighs more than a bag of bricks as you struggle to sit up, your muscles so weak from the pleasure of kissing Eddie.

Eddie breathes harshly and looks down. He runs a hand through his hair and looks up at you. He smiles painfully and you scoot closer to him.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah… I, uh… got something I need to take care of,” Eddie grunts.

“Wait, what is it?”

Eddie looks at you, like he’s masking some sort of pain.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah I just um…” Eddie looks into your eyes before closing his own.

“Eddie, you’re never shy around me. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. You just… sort of gave me a boner, sweetheart,” he answers, gruffly calling you his favorite pet name as he palms his pants.

Your eyes widen, “Oh.”

“I am painfully hard babe. But don’t worry, I’ll be right back.”

Eddie stands up but you grab his hand. “Wait.”

He looks at you and you tug, motioning for him to sit back down.

“Do you… I mean, could I… maybe I can help you take care of it?”

“You want to?” He asks, eyebrows slightly raised and a lazy smile forming in his lips.

You smile bashfully, “Yeah.”

“You sure? No pressure at all, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, I want to,” you smile and shuffle closer to him, “If that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, it’s more than okay,” he grunts, shuffling to sit closer to you so that your thighs are touching.

You look down onto his lap and notice the subtle outline under the fabric of his plaid pajama pants.

He palms the outline and you see it shift beneath the fabric.

You probably should be doing something besides staring straight at his lap, but something about the male anatomy is so foreign to you, it amazes you to see it like this. To see him like this.

“Wanna help me with this, sweetheart?” He grunts.

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” you mutter under your breath.

You hesitantly reach forward and place your hand over the outline of his dick. Your eyelids flutter and you relish the sensation of his hardened yet clothed dick in the palm of your hand. You slowly press down and push your hand forward.

Eddie hums and you look up at him. His eyes are closed, lashes fallen upon his rosy cheeks, lips slightly ajar. He’s never looked more beautiful.

You look back down, with focus, and repeat your action with a bit more confidence. You feel his chest move along the side of your shoulder.

You bring your hand down to move a third time, but Eddie beats you to the punch. He brings his fingers up to the waist band of his pants and boxers. He lifts his hips up and pushes the fabric down towards his knees, letting them fall to his ankles.

And there it is. Without warning, his unclothed cock springs out, meeting you for the first time. You gape at the site of it. Of him. You swallow nervously. You’ve never seen anything like it. But, now you understand why a banana was used at the condom demonstration in health class.

In the soft glow of the yellow lamp light, you see the stiff rigidness of his hardened cock, standing freely on its own.

Eddie reaches to grab it with his hand. He begins slowly stroking up and down.

You look at him and his eyes are closed again.

“Here,” you say as you shoo his hand away. Reaching for his cock and grabbing it in your hand, “Let me.”

You look at him again and this time his eyes are open. He looks down at his dock in your hand, then up into your eyes. His eyelashes flutter as his eyes roll into the back of his head. You can feel his cock twitch in your hands and you tense up, slightly squeezing it.

“Move your hand up and down,” he breathes.

You nod and loosen your grip to stroke up and down.

“You can keep a tighter grip, like before.”

Like before, when you were nervous?

You tighten your grip and hesitantly move your hand up and down his cock.

He takes the arm closest to you and snakes it around your waist. The gesture brings you closer to him and you take the opportunity to kiss him again.

You lean forward and press your lips against his. He’s slightly taken aback, but by the second kiss he’s already kissing you back at full force.

You hear him loudly breath through his nostrils and feel his chest rise and press close to yours as you continue to jerk up and down his dick.

Eddie pulls away momentarily and listfully gazes at you.

“Remember to get the head too,” he softly instructs as he looks down at your hand.

“What,” you ask in confusion as you meet his gaze.

He holds his hand atop yours and guides it upward, letting your thumb run over the head of the hard cock. It feels smoothers than the skin in the base, and even sort of wet.

“Use the precum, it’ll help your hand glide a little better.”

“Huh,” you flutter your eyelashes, slightly overwhelmed by all the different sensations currently flooding your system.

“Or if it helps, you can try spitting into your hand or licking it for better traction.”

Oh. You take his words of advice and bring your hand up to your mouth. You lick a stripe and bring it down to the base. You pump upward and back down. You let your palm travel up one side, over the throbbing head, and over the other side.

You move your hand back upright and pump again, letting your thumb rub circles over the head to smear more precum.

It doesn’t escape your notice that Eddie shudders every time you do this. Every time you do much as touch the head of his cock he's a breathless mess.

You’re so lost in concentration, wanting to make sure your doing it right and making Eddie feel good that you don’t even think to kiss him again.

But while you’re making Eddie feel good, he wants to do something for you too. The only problem is, the way you’re touching him is making him have an out of body experience. It’s so good, he barely had control over his own limbs.

The mist he can do is lazily pulls you closer to his and press sweet open mouthed kisses into your neck.

Normally, you would’ve been ticklish along your neck, but something about Eddie’s touch is different. It makes you feel warm and bright. You hum and whimper when he kisses over the most sensitive spots.

He lets his lips travel to your ear. He bites on the lobe and tugs.

He whispers into the shell, “You’re so good at this babe. Are you sure this isn’t your first time?”

You giggle like a schoolgirl and smile triumphantly.

The sound of your voice drives Eddie wild and in a moment of impulse, he wraps his other arm around your waist and tightens his grip.

His kisses along your neck grow sloppier and your movement on his cock speed up, becoming harsher with each stroke.

“Sweetheart,” he grunts. You can feel the muscles in his abdomen constrict.

“Yeah?” You ask.

He grunts again, “I’m gonna—think I’m gonna co—“

And before he can even say the word, he comes.

“Eddie, what’s happening? What do I do?”

You freeze.

Eddie moves one hand to stroke his clock, pumping till the last big of cum comes out. It spills out of his leaky cock and onto his hips.

You’re so in shock and still overcome by pleasure that you’re frozen in this moment, simply an observer of Eddie’s current state.

“Well my darling, you just made me cum,” Eddie smiles cockily at you.

You smile back, slightly confused but overall pleased.

Eddie leans forward and kisses you. You kiss him back, but before he deepens the kiss, he pulls away. He fixes himself and excuses himself to go to the bathroom and clean himself up.

You suppose you should probably clean yourself up a bit too. This was far dirtier than anything you’d done before, so you go to the sink to wash your hands and fix yourself a glass of water.

You set the glass on the side table and sit back down on the couch.

After a few minutes, Eddie comes back out and joins you.

“You okay?”

“More than okay, babe,” he grins smugly.

You hide your smile and take a sip of water.

“Want some?” You offer to him.

He plops down next to you and accepts the glass, nearly chugging it all.

“Hey,” you smack his arm. “I asked if you want some, not all of it.”

Eddie chuckles and wipes his mouth with the back of his.

“Don’t worry about it sweetheart, I’ll get you some more,” he says cheekily. He leans over and gives you a kiss before getting up to refill the water.

He comes back and passes you the glass. You take a sip and place it back on the side table before Eddie tackles you on the couch.

You shriek as you move down to lay on the couch while Eddie moves to lay on top of you.

“Eddie, I can’t breathe!”

“Me neither. You really know how to take a guy's breath away sweetheart.”

You smile at his cheesiness.

“No I meant, you’re right on my lungs. It’s hard to breathe.”

Eddie takes this as the opportunity to basically manhandle you, picking you up and switch positions so that he’s laying down on the couch and you’re on top of him. Sort of like how you were when you first started movie night.

“That better babe?”

You press a kiss to his lips, letting him deepen it a bit before pulling away.

“Now it is,” you say matter of factly.

“I’m not gonna lie, you’re a really good kisser baby.”

Your heart lightens at the compliment. Eddie has kissed other people before, so the fact that he thinks you’re a good kisser is saying a lot.

“Where’d you learn how to kiss like that?” He asks.

You roll your eyes at his self-indulgence.

“Well, I had this teacher…” you play along.

“Must’ve been a hell of a teacher.”

“He was a pretty good teacher, but I think I also just had a natural ability. A gift some might call it.”

“Oh I definitely would. Those pretty lips were very gifted. Those hands… even more,” he teases as he leans forward for a chaste kiss.

You move your hand forward to cup his cheek.

“Is class still in session Mr. Munson,” you ask in a flirty voice.

One of Eddie’s eyebrows cocks up suggestively.

“Because there is so much I want you to teach me.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson #urfavstargirl1

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gremlingottoosilly · 2 months

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Konig X Clumsy reader that's gets stuck in anything and everything, hole in the walls, boxes, anything with string god forbid, between the staircase's handrail, how? It's a complete mystery, leave her for 10 minutes alone and you would eventually hear her screaming for Konig to come help her, some of the postions she's in is what you would see in pornos and some are just outright dumb and impossible to even try and decipher how she got there

Sometimes it's funny. You somehow get stuck between a couch and some heavy pillows, and your leg is getting squished, so you're in a very awkward, uptight position that doesn't look even remotely sexy. This happens a lot, and Konig gave up on asking you how you got here after the third time. At the tenth time, he is seriously considering simply child-proofing the entirety of the house so you would stop getting stuck in the most random places. He loves that you're flexible, really, one of the best things about you is the way he can scramble your form in the bedroom, and you won't even feel pain in your back, but seeing your flexibility gets you in these sorts of arrangements... This is why he is getting someone to watch over you and the house whenever he is away on missions. Krueger may start bitching about having to babysit you like you're actual toddler, but even he is weirdly fascinated with the way you can get stuck in practically anything. You're pushing the boundaries of what is humanly possible and he is loving it. Sometimes it's suggestive. Konig seriously starts to think that you're just doing all of this so he could find you in a compromised pose and fuck you like a little slut you are. Seriously, how many times a person can get stuck in the washing machine before it starts to get weird? He doesn't know how you keep getting stuck in the couch, behind the rails, on every possible surface of the house, but he won't mind freeing you after some quality time spent with your ass wiggling against his cock. You would whine and ask him to just let you go before fucking you, but, of course, he is having none of that. Oh no, he is already too aroused with his precious girl standing like this, all pretty and helpless...he needs you, all helpless and whining, moaning as he pounds your pussy with absolutely zero care for the world. Might even get a few extra rounds while you can only ask him to let you go eventually, your legs already starting to feel pretty sore.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #cod x reader

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nieceeee · 10 months

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"Let Me Help"

P/S: You and Eren decided to co-parent and things have been going well. You managed to keep a good distance and keep your hands to yourself. Until your hormones get the best of you and him being a good baby daddy offers to help solve your problem W/C: 2007

A/N: smut, minors DNI, baby daddy eren x reader, nicknames (mamas because you're his baby mama, babydoll) oral sex, praise kink, pregnant reader, NSFW,

I took some pieced of my original work and changed the characters so enjoy. I think I want to start adding more fluff. let me know if you're interested

“E don't, okay.” you huffed, holding a hand up at him. You and Eren had just made it back to your apartment. You had some errands to run earlier and he insisted on being there. You can't carry all that in your condition anyway he had fussed at you over the phone. You roll your eyes, placing your hand over your swollen abdomen as he opens the passenger side door for you.

“I told you I didn't need any help.” you complained but like always, he refused to listen to you.

Honestly, you were grateful that he was still around to help you out. After your relationship ended, you both decided it would be best to have a decent connection for when the baby arrived. Eren refused to let his child grow up without him so you both had to sit down and compromise. Despite all the drama from your relationship, you both managed to remain good friends and work on coparenting.

Until today.

When those pregnancy hormones started to kick in and you woke up this morning with your fingers pressed against your clit, trying to find some sort of relief. As your fingers circled your opening, you found yourself imagining a very familiar hand replacing yours. You whimpered at the image of Eren’s fingers pressing deep inside of you, stroking that ridged spot that you loved so much.

“You look so pretty when you cum for me babydoll.” he praised, “Do it again. Make daddy proud and cum all over my hands. Can you do that?”

Ironically, that was the day you actually made him a daddy. You were so terrified at the two little lines on the test that you took 5 more to make sure. Eren was ecstatic. He had always wanted kids. But your relationship with him had been so toxic that you were scared of what would happen if you tried again. So you both decided to remain friends in order to have a healthy relationship for your child.

All of that went out the window this morning as you coaxed another orgasm from your body, his name falling from your lips. But it wasn’t enough. The fire that burned in you refused to be sated. You needed today to get out of the house and blow off steam, anything to get your mind off of the aching in between your legs. Everything was going fine until he made his daily call. The minute his face popped up on screen, you felt the heat pass through you again. Fucking pregnancy hormones you groaned internally.

“You all good mamas?” Eren asked you.

Your toes curled in your shoes at the nickname, “Yes, I just have some errands to run today so I’ll have to call you later.” you rushed. Looking at him was driving your body crazy and you knew you would need your vibrator again before you could leave. “You doing all that by yourself?” he said, brows arching in concern. “Yes, E. I’ll be fine.” you fussed, your leg shaking with anxiousness. You just needed him off the phone. “I’ll be there in 10.” You couldn’t process the words he said before the phone disconnected. Fuck. you thought to yourself, you couldn’t be around him today. Not like this. You hobbled yourself to your room, grabbing your rabbit out of the top drawer and lifting your dress and pressing it against your swollen center. “Shit.” you let out as your juices dripped down your legs. You rushed to clean yourself up just as the doorbell rang.

“Hey, babydoll you ready?” his voice called from the front door. You cussed yourself for giving him the spare key. For emergencies only you had told him but he still used it as he pleased.

You met him at the door, hoping that your actions were disguised. He took his time looking at you. His eyes dragging from your head to your feet as he swiped his tongue out over his lips. “You look good mamas.” his deep voice lowered, caressing your eardrums and everywhere in between. “Stop looking at me like that.” you snapped. He gave you a sexy half smile and shrugged his shoulders, opening the front door and holding it for you.

Running errands with Eren seemed nearly impossible. You found yourself watching his every move. You never thought a man putting groceries in the car would look so sexy. Those veins popping in his hands and traveling up the crevices of his muscles was making you dizzy. “It must be the heat” you explained to him when you needed to grab a seat to catch your breath. By the time you made it back to your apartment, your pussy was throbbing. You needed to make him leave.

Eren noticed you had been distant with him all day but he assumed it was just the heat and the hormones. But as much as you pushed at him, he wasn’t leaving you in that state. Something was going on with you and he wanted to know what. “You can go now.” you forced out. “You’re not putting all this away on your own.” he fussed, starting to unpack the groceries. “Eren, please just go.” you were practically groveling, the need between your thighs growing stronger. “Did I do something wrong?” he questioned, turning to you. His green eyes gazing at you with concern and confusion. “No, you didn't .” you expressed. “So why have you been pushing me away all day? I don't get it.” he urged. “E, please.” you started but he cut you off. “No, not until you talk to me babydoll. What did I do? I want to fix it.” “EREN. I'M HORNY OKAY!” you screamed out dropping your head back in frustration. His eyes blinked. Once. Twice. The room was silent. “I- my hormones are spiking and I have been having trouble all day.” you explained. “You being here has not helped.” He remained calm as he stepped towards you. “Do you need me?” he asked calmly. “What?” He stepped closer, standing right in front of you, forcing you to look up at him. “Do you need my help?” he whispered down at you.

“What do you mean help ?” you asked, anxious to know the answer.

He smiled down at you. “Come here mamas.” he said softly. You walk towards him, taking his outstretched hand. He leads you through the house and to your bedroom. “E-” you start. He looks back at you and all your words get caught in your throat. Eren positions you next to your bed, coming up behind you. He gently slides his hands underneath your belly, a warm feeling running through his chest as he lifts slightly to offer you some relief. You sigh sinking into his arms, your back pressing against his chest. “Eren, are you sure this is okay? We said we were setting boundaries.” you said softly. “I know.” he whispered, rubbing small circles on the underside of your belly. You hummed in delight at the sensation of his warm hands on your skin. “Look at it this way mamas.” he explained. “My goal is to make sure you are as comfortable as possible. And this is causing you discomfort, yeah?” You nod, riding the high of his words as he continues to massage you. “All I want to do is help you get a release.” he whispers, leaning down to you. He rubs the tip of his nose against your neck before clamping his teeth down gently into your shoulder. Your legs buckle slightly as he runs his tongue over the mark. “You smell so fucking good babydoll.” he groans, his dick hardening behind you. You both stand there for a moment, you pressed against his chest as he rubs your belly and plants kisses on your neck.

“Come here.” Eren says, releasing your belly, He guides your hips back to the bed and lays you down. “Eren, are you sure about this?” you asked breathlessly. He looks down at you as he pulls half of his hair back into a ponytail. “Positive.” he grumbled. He guides you back gently against the mattress. “Just let me take care of you baby. I’ll make you feel good.” he whispered. “You always do.” you let out. He hummed his approval before pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. Eren takes his time, kissing down your neck and into your shoulder blades. Your eyes flutter close as you sink into the bed. He takes his time trialing kisses down to your swollen breasts, his lips closing around the hardened mound as his fingers roll around your other nipple. Your hands travel up his back and into his hair, gripping softly. He growls, biting down gently on your nipple as he continues his descent down your body. He takes extra time kissing around her belly, a smile playing at his lips as he trailers the linea nigra in the center of your abdomen. He travels further until his head is centered between your legs. An audible gasps escapes your lips as the warmth of his mouth attaches to your aching middle. Eren takes his time, sucking at your clit, rolling it gently between his lips before slipping his tongue inside of you. Your back arches slightly from the bed as you revel in each swipe of his tongue, the wetness getting louder as he swirls the muscle inside of you. The wave of heat washes over you once more as he growls into your pussy. “E, baby. Fuck.” you call out to him as he feasts on you like you’re his last meal. You body jerks as the orgasm spills out of you and into his mouth. He stays there, holding onto your thighs lapping at you until you come down from your high. Your essence drips from his chin as he sits up and looks at you. “You taste better than I remember.” he said softly. Your breathing is heavy as you stare into each other's eyes.

You part your legs slowly, beckoning him closer. Eren’s eyes widened slightly. “You sure?” he asked, his gaze heavy. You nodded. You needed more of him. “Please” you beg.

He smirked and cupped his hands under your upper thigh, sliding your body closer to him. “E…fuck.” your mind went blank as he rubbed his tip against your opening. “You okay baby? You need to stop?” he looked up at you, his gaze heavy. You looked down at him, thick and heavy, his body begging for release. He was a force to be reckoned with down there. “Y/n?” he asked, stepping back slightly. “I- I ‘m okay.” you responded quickly. “You sure?” he said, still standing back, concern etched on his face. “Yes. I’m sure.” You lay back on the bed again, opening up wider. He took a breath and stepped back into your space, pressing against you again. Your fingers gripped the sheets as you felt his tip push inside of you. “Fuck” you cry out. He stilled. “Am I hurting you?” he asked. You were drunk on pleasure at the feeling. “No please keep going E, I need it.” you moan out. He shuddered at your cries, and worked his way in a little more. He took his time, slipping in and out of you with shallow strokes, rubbing your clit when you clenched around him. He knew your body inside and out. You felt another weave of pleasure overtaking you. Your walls clenched around him. “It's okay. Release for me babydoll.” he said gently coaching you through your final orgasm. He stayed sheathed inside of you until he’s sure you’re done and slowly pulls out, your creams spilling onto the sheets beneath you. His gaze seared your body as it trailed you from head to toe. “What?” you ask shyly. “You are so fucking beautiful, you know that.” He ran his hand down the side of your face, wiping a few of the tears from your eyes. You smile up at him.

“Thank you, Eren.” you say softly. “I told you babydoll. I’m always here to help.” he smile before planting a gentle kiss to your forehead.

#smut #eren x reader #eren x black reader #eren aot #eren yeager #baby daddy eren #aot x reader #aot x smut #aot x y/n #eren x y/n #eren smut

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fxirysforesight · 3 months

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Future Career Pick A Card

Directions: Take 3 Mindful Breaths and Pick The Work Set-Up That Attracts You The Most!

Disclaimer: This is a general reading. It may not resonate for everyone and that's okay! If you are having trouble choosing a pile, take a minute to relax and then try again.

Pile One:

What Career Path Is Pile One Looking To Go Into?

Judgment, 9 of Cups, 4 of Swords

I feel like this is my Legal Studies, Politics, and Healthcare Pile. A lot of you are looking to go into Law or careers where you feel as though you are doing the right thing. You may want to go into careers where you are representing people or being a voice of reason for someone. You all seem to be problem solvers or at least interested in conflict-resolution based careers. Those of you who chose this pile are probably all or nothing people. I don't think a lot of you have any Plan B's or C's. You probably decided very early on what you want to be or do and that's what your heart is set on. You are looking for a career that has everything that you want. A career that fits your wants and needs and is a source of fulfillment for you is ideal Pile One.

These Are Some Careers I See You All Looking To Go Into/Be: Lawyers, Judges, Administration, Healthcare (Doctor or Nurse, a Veterinarian as well), Legal Work, Therapist (Mental Health, Massage, Etc.), Yoga or Meditation Instructor? For some of you, I see jobs where you are the Middle Man like for example a Hiring Recruiter.

What Career Path Is Best For Pile One?

8 of Cups Rx, The High Priestess, Strength

Pile One, you need to go into a career path that you know you won't walk away from. A career path that is sustainable for YOU. Regardless of the pay or whatever other constraints there may be, you need to find a job that satisfies your soul and not just your financial or social needs. I said before how I think that you all may enjoy conflict-resolution careers. It would be best for you all to find a career from which you can learn from or solve problems within. You would likely excel in careers that involve caring for someone or something in some way, shape, or form.

These Are Some Careers I Think You Would Excel In: Healthcare (Doctor, Nurse, Vet, Psychiatrist, Psychologist) Detective Work, Professor or Teacher, Guru, Counselor, Medium, Psychic, Astrologer, Tarot Reader.

Significators: French, Frenchie, or French Tips, Aries, Spring Months (March, April, May), 20+, Dyed Hair, "Not Yet", 444, Libra, 7th House Placements (Specifically Mercury and Sun), Strong Pisces, 12th House Sun or Moon, Moon and Neptune Dominant, Leo or 5th House Placements.

Pile Two: (This Pile was very similar to Pile One. If you felt drawn to that Pile go and give it a read and see if it resonates!)

What Career Path Is Pile Two Looking To Go Into?

5 of Swords Rx, The Star, The Wheel Of Fortune

The first thing I saw and heard was "Giving Back". This is my Humanitarian pile. A lot of you are likely studying or wanting to study Humanitarian Studies. You likely find yourself leaning towards careers or social endeavors that benefit not only yourself but the rest of the world as well. Your ultimate goal in a career is overcoming challenges, compromising or ending a conflict of some sort. You all want to change the world and give the up and coming generations inspiration and hope for a better world to live in. You want renewal. A fresh start.

These Are Some Careers I See You All Looking To Go Into/Be: Public Service, Tech and IT Jobs, Motivational Speakers or Anything To Do With Public Speaking, Freelancers or Non Contract Workers, Nonprofit Organization Workers, Health and Safety Professionals, Human Rights Activists, Scientists, Researchers, Entrepreneurs, Advocates, Social Workers.

What Career Path Is Best For Pile Two?

The Emperor, 4 of Swords Rx, Ace of Wands

Pile Two, you need to go into a career path where you have the opportunity to lead. A career path that offers you stability and structure. A career path that is practical and logical according to your own needs. All jobs will make you feel stress, but I would advise you to enter a career that provides you with the sanctuary you need to rest and recuperate. I feel like those of you who chose this pile get tired or burnt out pretty quick? Extroverts with low social betteries? It would do you well to enter into careers that you see yourself building a future off of. Additionally, for some of you I think jobs that are more hands on and interactive would be better for you. Careers that provide you with passion, action, and excitement!

These Are Some Careers and Career Titles I Think You Would Excel At: Self Employment, CEO's or Bosses, Government Based Careers, Entrepreneurs, Engineers, Military, Managers, Administration, Manual Labor, Tech and IT Jobs, Freelancing, Careers That Allow You To Travel, Sports or Athletics. This Pile has a VERY strong Masculine Energy. A lot of you may find yourselves in Male Dominated Career Paths, and you may have a lot of Masculine Energy in your Natal Charts as well.

Significators: Aries, Leo, Aquarius, Libra, Spanish, 10th House Mercury, 10th House Uranus, Chart Ruler in 11th House, Air and Fire Dominants, Mars in 1st or 10th, Libra Mercury, Sun-Mars and Sun-Saturn Aspects, 555, Aquarius Midheaven and DSC, Uranus Dominant.

Pile Three:

What Career Path Is Pile Three Looking To Go Into?

Queen of Wands, Queen of Cups, Page of Cups Rx

Creative Workers. A lot of you who chose this pile may have struggles or are currently struggling with finding the career path that suits you. You WANT to do a certain career, but you may think that you NEED to do another career because the career you dream of is unrealistic or out of reach or maybe just doesn't fall into your life plans or budget. You are likely searching for a career that you have an emotional connection to. Although money is important to you, you're not really concerned too much about monetary matters, because you know that you can't be happy in a career that doesn't speak to you. You want a career that you get excited about being able to do, a career that allows you to feel as though you are in control of your own life. A lot of you want to work with kids and young people, I can tell.

These Are Some Careers I See You All Looking To Go Into/Be: Elementary School Teachers, Leaders of Some Kind, Child Counselors, Midwives, Nannies, Children's Book Authors, Music Teachers, Singers, Poets, Interior Design, Home Business (Maybe a Daycare), Family Therapist, Realtor or Real Estate. In contrast to Pile Two, there is a lot of Feminine Energy in this pile. You all may find yourselves in Female Dominated career paths and you may have an abundance of Feminine Energy in your chart.

What Career Path Is Best For Pile Three?

King of Swords, The Chariot, Justice

Pile Three, I would advise you all to go into career paths where you have structure and routine. A lot of you who chose this pile have very strong morals and values with all of this watery energy here. You are kind and empathetic but you are also logical and firm. You would do well in a position of authority, where you are allowed to demonstrate and enforce self-discipline and hardwork. You will likely be known for your candor and integrity in your careers pile three. You value honesty and fairness, and it will show regardless of what path you choose. You would thrive in careers that allow you to teach others about the wonders of the World, whatever that may mean to you.

These Are Some Careers and Career Titles I Think You Would Excel At: Counselors, Networking, Mediators, Influencers, Authors, Motivational Speakers, Auditors, Elementary School Teachers, Family Therapists, Behavior Technicians, Children's' Book Authors, Interior Design, Home Businesses, Real Estate.

Significators: "Soon", Cancer, Sagittarius, Gemini, 20+, Fire, Musician, 10th House Sun or Moon, 1st House Moon, Mercury in 9th House, 4th House Stellium, Water Dominant, Pisces Moon, Cancer Midheaven, Libra, Saturnians.

#🍓 fairytalks #astrology #tarot #pick a pile #pick a card

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psychotrenny · 3 months

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The annoying thing about Progressive movements throughout history is that consistently Radicals do all the work and Moderates take all the credit. Like Moderates are all about compromise, but the ruling class is only going to consider that if they feel genuinely threatened. The only way they ever give any power is if they're convinced it's the best way to avoid losing it all. And the ruling class only feels threatened when Radicals, who intend to severely weaken them or do away with them entirely, enjoy widespread support and pose a credible threat to their power base. So as soon as the Radicals begin to enjoy any significant degree of success, the ruling class will go to the Moderates and work out some sort of compromise with them in the hopes of dissipating whatever discontent is behind the movement and redirecting it's energies towards less dangerous ends. With their limited demands more or less met, the Moderates get to enjoy a victory and claim it as proof that their methods work and anyone more radical is just wasting their time.

Ideally (for the Ruling Class) this allows them to split the movement, isolating the Radicals and exposing them to the unrestrained forces of oppression with minimal resistance from broader society. Then, with the actual threatening and effective wing of the Progressive movement gone, the Ruling Class is free to roll back any concessions at their leisure. Meanwhile the Moderates have little recourse other than to cry out in confusion and call for an intensification of their ineffective methods in the misplaced hope that this will do anything against to defend their gains (while still smugly asserting their superiority against the shadow of the now long gone Radicals). I'm speaking in very broad and vague terms here because it's a pattern that keeps fucking recurring and for a variety of movements is happening right now. It's a pattern that any Progressive movement is going to need to break if they intend to see any lasting results from their efforts

#stella speaks

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i-cant-sing · 10 months

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PLS PLS WRITE THE PLATONIC YANDERE MIGUEL OHARA FIC IM BEGGINF 🙏🙏🙏🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️WE NEED MORE PLATONIC FICS OF THIS MAN

(Thank you for reading this and have a great day!!)

I definitely see dad Miguel treating reader like a child, no matter what age you are. You could be a strong, independent woman, and to Miguel... you're a baby🥺 Everytime you get frustrated when he tells you no, or doesn't allow you to do what you want, he thinks you look absolutely adorable, your brows furrowed and your nostrils flared, and Miguel just has to just lean down to your level and you think that he's gonna offer you an explanation and in his mind, he does, but all he really says is-

"I know what's best for you, mija."

And if you dare to say "you're not my dad!", he won't say anything because yeah, you're right, but he will stare at you intimidatingly until you either take your words back or change the topic.

I think Miguel is not someone who talks much (but he still expects you to converse with him regularly) and so when he doesn't wanna argue with you, he may or may not shoot a web to seal your lips shut, just so that you give him enough time to explain (which again he doesnt), but he does use this time to tell you that you're grounded and then again, uses his strength against you to pick you up like a little bratty kitten and drop you back to your room.

I also think that Miguel definitely sees you as this helpless creature that would absolutely DIE without him. It doesn't matter if you're a spider-person like him, no. To him, you're just a frail kitten that needs papa Miguel's help to shelter her from the pouring rain and bubble wrap you and cuddle you and just- protect you from this all too harsh world.

And you could be trying to break free from his grasp, going of about how he didnt need you to pull you from your universe, how you had your life under control and what not, and Miguel would just sigh and shake his head and mutter "Teenagers🙄" EVEN IF YOU'RE AN ADULT.

Miguel isnt someone who talks about his feelings, definitely not at first, he just bottles everything up until the lid pops off and someone else has to face his fury. BUT that doesn't he doesn't expect you to talk about yours. He's super observant so the moment he notices the slightest change in your mood, or the way you breathe, oh he's bugging you to tell him whats wrong. I mean he's breathing down your neck, which as you already know isnt great because he is the only person you're allowed to talk to (minus Peter B Parker and Mayday), and eventually, he may even tie you upside down with his web to make you talk. And he's just nodding and offering up solutions/therapeutic advices (not really, they're just compromises) while you're getting blood rush from hanging off the ceiling for so long.

Also going back to the "you're not my dad!" thing, I think if you say it enough times, it does start to hurt him and eventually he reaches a breaking point where he does end up getting mad and bares his teeth at you as he yells "I AM, NOW! AND IF YOU DON'T START LISTENING TO ME MIJA, YOU WILL REGRET IT! NOW, MARCH OFF TO YOUR ROOM!" And sure, you get spooked enough to run off, but not before you yell like a very cliche, angsty teen "I hate you!" and you slam your door close before he could scold you again. He still comes right up to your door, probably to ground you even more, but he doesnt have the heart to open the door when he hears your sobs. Damn, now you just broke his heart. So, Miguel leaves, deciding its best that you two get some space to cool off.

Now I see Miguel as the type of dad who doesnt really apologise (mostly because he doesn't feel like he's done anything wrong) but instead offers a parley or a white flag of sorts in the form of food (like some cut up fruits and veggies, or even your fav takeout) and sure, his heart is still heavy with guilt, even more so when he sees your swollen red eyes indicating how you've been crying for days, so he clears his throat, maybe shifts in his seat a little and asks about your day or something random, heartbreak intensifying 100X when you refuse to talk to him, making him resort to something thats... uncomfortable for you both.

A hug.

I mean this has to be the most awkward hug in history, because Miguel just swoops you up and places you in his lap, pulling you to his chest and telling you that he's not letting go until you talk. STILL NOT APOLOGISING, I mean there is a greater likelihood that you may end up apologising to him but Miguel sure as hell isnt saying the word "sorry" (unless you're dead, specifically if u die in his arms hehe).

#yandere miguel x reader #yandere spiderverse #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere atsv #yandere x reader #platonic miguel #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 #spiderman atsv #platonic yanderes #platonic

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tieronecrush · 6 months

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🎃 trick or treat 🎃

summary: it's halloween and joel's taking your girls trick-or-treating with you in a family costume. feeling uncomfortable in his clothes and his skin, he's on edge most of the evening but does his best to disguise it in order to not spoil the fun. back at home, when his girls lightheartedly tease him about everything he already thought about himself, you're sure to end the night showing joel exactly how you feel about him and his body.

wc: 10k (oops?)

warnings: established relationship/married, canon divergent (no outbreak, ellie & sarah are both his kids, sort of obscure with if they're both his bio kids/your kids - basically y'all are a cute lil family either way! also joel is ~40, no age mentioned for reader!), halloween, family/group costumes, DOMESTIC JOEL!!!, fluff, body insecurities, age insecurities, joel has minor sensory issues?, his kids poke fun at him, sensitive joel, SMUT. it kind of is a thing for the basically the second half, descriptions of joel's body, tummy & thigh worship, oral (m receiving), cowboy rule (for a costume), unprotected piv, lowkey sub!joel for a lil bit, reader is "giving cunt" according to bestie el, then quickly gets back to dom!joel as he gets his confidence back, joel gets that strength in an adrenaline rush that moms get lifting cars off babies but his is for chasing a nut, also, dirty talk!

a/n: my contribution to spooky season, basically at the buzzer lol. this started with me thinking how cute it would be for joel to dress up and go trick-or-treating with his kids, and ended with wanting to s*** his d*** big time. anyways, enjoy my version of halloween with joel, and thank you to @kiwisbell for screaming about this scenario with me and as always a big thanks to my sweet, sweet girlfriend @northernbluess for beta-ing!!!!

Brought on much later than the northern states, fall in Texas is not quite an impactful sight. The one thing that can’t be beaten though is the Texas sun; shining across expansive horizons all times of year, temperatures of the light shifting with the seasons. Orange evening sun stretches across the sky and seeps down in between the leaves speckled with changing colors while Joel’s truck coasts down the neighborhood street. Kids retreat from running around in the road when his car approaches, returning right back to their gameplay when he’s through. Half are dressed up, a medley mix of witches, zombies, vampires, Power Rangers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Disney Princesses, and countless outfits that he has no idea what they’re referencing.

Fibrous, white faux spiderwebs litter the front porches of the houses lining the street, Jack-O-Lanterns carved and lit up stack on the stairs or create a path along the front walkways. Some of the pumpkins’ faces are wrinkly and sagging, signs of overeagerness from when the fall season started earlier this month. A handful of scarecrows find themselves pitched in the middle of yards with hay spilling out of them, and some of the houses have turned out an expense to get those motion-sensor decorations — the ones really intended to scare the kids that will be unleashed on the neighborhood to trick-or-treat this evening.

Rolling to a stop as he turns into the asphalt driveway, throwing the truck in park, he sits in the cab for a still moment, staring at the signs of life scattered around his family’s house. Four pumpkins, gutted and showing off their faces, a family feud that reached a compromise when it was decided that yes, they would carve pumpkins but no, they would not sit to rot on the front porch all month long; the corn stalks wrapped around the posts of the porch, tied with burlap twine and arranged with sprigs of fall foliage; pots of colorful mums framing the path up to the house, carefully selected by your eye and less delicately planted in their terracotta vessels by Joel’s hands.

Aside from the seasonal decorations, the usual markings of the Miller family were easily spotted: chalk drawings on the shared sidewalk in front of the yard and along the driveway, replaced every weekend by Sarah once the old was washed or worn away; Ellie’s bike discarded on the front lawn, small tire tracks digging up the grass, no matter how many times Joel and you have asked her to put it away when she’s done; the porch swing that Joel built for you, swaying in the breeze and now unoccupied — unusual for the evening routine around the time that Joel comes home from work. He’s normally greeted by his girls, not merely their artifacts. But tonight is a different night, much busier than the slow, molasses life Joel gets to enjoy in the colder weather.

Gathering his lunch bag from the bench seat and bunching up his jacket in the same hand, Joel climbs out of the car and walks into the open garage, leaving his tools behind in the flatbed to be dealt with tomorrow morning. Passing your parked car, he shakes his head with a subtle smile as he closes the driver’s side door of your SUV left open. He can picture you now, running around after picking the girls up from school, mental space occupied by getting everything and everyone together to make it out the door before the sun went down completely.

There’s a trail of evidence to support his musings: a lonesome plastic bag filled with groceries left on top of the car, Sarah’s purple jacket looped through the handle of the garage fridge, probably left behind after she went looking for a juice, and Ellie’s army green backpack tossed on the ground in front of the shoe racks lining the wall next to the door. None of that would fly had you been your usual focused self — more often than not, you’re the parent to put their foot down and keep the girls in line while Joel is the total pushover.

Along his way inside, he picks up all the left-behind items, balancing everything in his hands while he steps into the mudroom. Ellie’s backpack gets shoved into her designated cubby, and Sarah’s jacket gets wrapped on a hook screwed into the wall as Joel kicks off his work boots. After depositing his own belongings in their spots, lunch bag in his cubby and jacket on the hook next to Sarah’s, he grabs his boots in one hand, leaning out the doorway to place them on top of the shoe rack. Closing the door behind him, he picks up the singular bag of groceries left on top of your SUV and pads across the tile further into the house. Immediately, he’s embraced by the warmth radiating from the kitchen, the smells of tomatoes, onions, garlic, and more wafting into his nose causing a smile to stretch across his face and his stomach to rumble.

Every year that he’s known you, without fail, you use Halloween night as an excuse to cook up your family-favorite chili recipe. Sure, it doesn’t get too cold for October in Texas, but damn, does he look forward to the night every year simply for a bowl of it. Laboring over the prep and slow-cooking it all day long, anyone who tries it can taste the care in each bite; like a warm blanket wrapped around his shoulders that lasts with him for the entire evening spent outside with the kids.

The pleas of his stomach lead him straight into the kitchen, his smile growing wider when he sees you standing over the kitchen counter, affixing a sheriff badge to the cow print vest laid out in front of you. He strides over to your side, resting his palm on your lower back and swiping his thumb against the material of your shirt while he leans in to press a kiss to the top of your head, drinking in your scent and feeling the ache of missing you all day. Losing focus from your task, you turn toward him with a bright smile, a quiet sigh leaving your lips, and your shoulders relaxing from their tensed position. Wordlessly, he folds forward, catching your lips in a lingering kiss. Heat pushes against his chest through his denim shirt, your hands skating from his pecs, up and across his shoulders, and down his arms to rest on his biceps. The motions raise goosebumps in their wake, trailing down his spine with a tepid drip.

Joel steals another kiss before he stands up straight again, voice rasping from yelling over powerful tools all day and volume low to keep the semblance of a private moment between the two of you for as long as possible; anything louder would expose his arrival, bombarding him with questions and conflicts to resolve between his daughters.

“Hey, baby.” He greets you with one fleeting kiss pressed to your forehead, hand at your lower back now rubbing side to side, fingers carefully lifting the fabric and pressing the tips of them into your deliciously soft skin.

Turning back to the vest, you drop your hands from his arms not before giving them a gentle squeeze, “Hi, Joel. Good day?”

He shrugs, unable to step away from you just yet, “It was fine — much better now. And I take it yours has been a busy one?”

Joel holds up the plastic bag of groceries with two fingers, one corner of his mouth lifting in a teasing smirk. His hip pops out as he leans against the counter, the smirk turning into a smile when you grimace. His heartbeat skips when your laugh fills his ears, the sound still exciting him after all these years, and you stand over the bag to take a peek inside.

“S’all good. Non-perishables.” It’s Joel’s turn to laugh, shaking his head with a breathy chuckle as he places the bag on the counter, unloading its contents into the pantry while you go about recapping your day for him.

In the midst of you speaking, the tumble of footsteps down the stairs draws his attention away, eyes focusing on the open threshold that leads from the living room into the kitchen. As the quickened steps grow closer, Joel turns to you and holds up three fingers, counting down with them. When he lowers his last finger, a mop of curly hair, a bouncing ponytail, and a whirlwind of chaos disrupts the initial peace of his return home.

“Hi girls, how was today?” he starts before a cacophony of noise fills the kitchen. Skidding to a stop in front of him, he exchanges a look with you before facing his daughters, already overwhelmed with their two voices talking over the other.

“Dad, Dad, Sarah said—”

“Dad, Ellie’s saying that I said—”

Holding his hands up, he flicks his eyes between his two girls. Sarah, the older of the two at eleven years old, stands in front of him with her arms crossed and brow furrowed — a look he is all too familiar with, the similarities between him and her emphasized with her annoyance. Ellie, your youngest, stands with her fists clenched at her sides, her mouth twisted up in frustration and the same furrowed brow as her sister. She looks so much more like you at the moment, only a nine-year-old version, calling back on times Joel can remember of you giving him that very look.

However, with their tempers, there’s no doubt that they’re his kids.

Dropping his hands back to his sides, he rolls his shoulders and takes a deep breath before addressing them.

“So, what’s going on now?” he asks, brows raising and head tilting when the girls each take a sharp inhale, about to speak over each other again, “One at a time. Ellie.”

Sarah rolls her eyes at her younger sister being called upon first, expectantly looking at her sister with annoyance still painting her face. Ellie shoots her a smug look before turning back to Joel, drawing a pout onto her lips to sell her story. He can’t say it doesn’t work for a second, it always will with these two and they know it, but with a quick glance in your direction, he sees you turned away from your task, watching the drama from the sidelines. Mustering the strength to stand his ground against the sweetness of his girls, he clears his throat and listens with his best poker face as Ellie begins explaining.

“Sarah said she wouldn’t trade all her Skittles for my Three Musketeers even though she knows I hate Three Musketeers and she said last week when we were getting our costumes that she would—”

“I never said that, Dad! She’s lying—” Sarah gestures with her hands as if to physically point out the obvious falsehoods in Ellie’s story. Spiraling back out of the fleeting control he had over the situation, the kids get riled up again, yelling over each other, and inching closer. The dad-instincts kick in and he grabs one of each of their shoulders, separating the two of them and turning them to face him again as he puts on what you affectionately call his ‘no-bullshit’ voice.

“Okay, okay, okay! Enough arguin’ about candy that you don’t even have yet. Ellie, you don’t even know if a single house is gonna give ya Three Musketeers, and you don’t even know if Sarah is gonna get any Skittles. Save the trade negotiations for tonight or tomorrow morning. ‘Sides, you gotta pay the Dad Tax before either of y’all get to trade around your pickings.”

“What?”

“No way!”

Joel smiles, waving his pointer finger between his daughters with a single nod of his head. “See? Something y’all can agree on. Now go get washed up for dinner and plot how you can hide your candy from me and Mom.”

As quickly as they came in, they rush right back out, this time a united force scheming against their parents. Joel huffs out a breathy laugh, shaking his head to himself as he turns back to face you. Met with a growing smile, you unravel your arms crossed in front of your chest to pick up the vest from the counter.

“Nice conflict resolution there, hon. Now I won’t see a single piece of candy.” You throw a pout at him, bottom lip jutting out as he steps over to you, one hand splaying on your hip and thumb rubbing languid circles.

“Don’t worry, baby, I think I know every single one of their hiding spots from how many times they had to move their candy last year. They won’t even notice anything's gone.” With a quick wink, he leans in for a kiss, short and sweet. Standing up straight, the smile on your face mirrors his, your left index finger reaching up to fit into the valley of his dimple.

“Are we bad parents to be scheming how to steal from our children?” you question, biting back a laugh.

“I think that’s just part of parenting, darlin’.”

The laugh you held back escapes you, rolling your eyes playfully at his facetious answer; the vest in your hands catches his eyes again, and he sighs to himself as he holds a hand out for it.

“So you really did find a cow print vest for me? How lucky.” Sarcasm coats his tone and you lift the material, depositing it in his open palm.

“It is lucky, isn’t it? I think you’re going to look great in your costume. Got all the perfect parts, plus you can wear your own jeans and boots. Economical.”

“You sure you need me for this group costume?”

“Joel. You’re literally one of the main characters from the damn movie. And the girls really want you to dress up and take them trick-or-treating. Plus it’s probably going to be one of, if not the last year that we get to do all this as a family. Our kids are growing up.”

“Don’t remind me, means m’getting older too,” he grumbles under his breath, eyes falling to the fabric in his hand.

It’s true what they say about having kids: the days are long, but the years are short.

At times, Joel wishes he could pull each hair out of his head instead of dealing with the shit his kids bring to him sometimes — “Dad, I got called into the principal’s office.” “Dad, I threw a softball and broke the window.” “That’s so unfair, Dad! Why do you have to be so mean?” It’s easy to get lost in the mess that is his family, but it’s a mess he loves. It feels like it was only yesterday that he was becoming a father when Sarah was born, getting a grasp on the whole thing and then Ellie came along. What he would do without you there by his side, he doesn’t have a clue.

Like flipping through a scrapbook, he can remember every year prior for his girls. In a flash, they’ve grown from dressing up as princesses and unicorns — a dragon for Ellie — to being Spy Kids and vampires. His oldest is verging on becoming a teenager, and if he knows his daughters, he knows that once Sarah quits dressing up each year, when she asks to go to her friends’ houses instead of spending the night with Mom and Dad, Ellie will want to do the same as her older sister, always looking up to her despite their differences.

There’s only so much more time for his kids to be kids, even if they may always feel like the tiny baby girls he held in his arms. All he wants to do is to protect them, keep them under his eye as long as he can, but he can hear your voice prying his grasp away from them, encouraging him to let them grow, let them experience the world as he got to do when he was younger. You’ll remind him that you were a teenage girl once, reassuring him that they’re always going to need him. He knows it’s all going to sneak up on him; one day, he’s going to pull into the driveway and notice the lack of chalk drawings. He might even be happy at first about Ellie’s bike being put away, but when he goes into the garage to work on some of his projects, he’ll notice the smallest bit of dust on it from disuse.

Stepping away from him to shuffle across the kitchen, you reach on your tiptoes to pull out four bowls from the cabinet. Joel steps over behind you, a hand on your back as he intercepts your movements, grabbing the ceramic dishes and handing them to you.

Like a shadow, he follows behind you as you walk over to the pot filled with dinner, eagerly watching over your shoulder with his chest pressed against your back and hands on your waist as you lift the lift. Aromas waft with the steam rising, the delectably rich dish slowly bubbling as it finishes melding altogether. It smells like home, always the mark of the changing of the seasons in the Miller household, and one of the little traditions that he so appreciates you creating for your family. Just like the way you make crinkle cookies and still sign presents from Santa at Christmas, despite the fact that your daughters found out about that a couple of years ago from a yappy kid at school.

Joel was very close to driving over to his house and letting his parents know how he felt about their kid murdering the magic of Christmas for his girls.

All he can hope is that these little traditions continue even when the girls are grown up; the four of you gathering around the table for your annual chili dinner before they head off to hang out with friends and you two are left to watch cheesy Halloween movies and hand out candy to children that remind you of your daughters.

With another deep breath, warmth surrounds him. Joel’s lips find the spot just under your ear, kissing gently before he rests his chin on your shoulder, “Smells so good, baby. Have I told you how much I love you?”

A breathy, incredulous laugh falls from your lips as you stir the pot’s contents around, your smile sticking around as you counter, “You’re only saying that ‘cause I’m feeding you.”

A dramatic, exaggerated gasp sharply inhales into his lungs, standing up straight and patting his hands on your sides, “Absolutely not, darlin’. I love you all the time—”

“But especially when I feed you,” you finish, turning out of his arms to grab the stack of bowls. He stops your motions by wrapping his arms around your waist, feeling the press of you against his torso and relishing in the heat of your body against his. Curling up like a cat in the sun, he nudges his nose against your hairline, peppering kisses along the contours of your face.

In between kisses, he says word by word, over and over, “I. Love. You. My. Beautiful. Wonderful. Incredible. Wife.”

“Alright, alright! Gosh, you’re clingy,” you tease, leaning back to look into his eyes with a playful glint in your eye and a smirk held tight in your lips, “I love you too, my beautiful, wonderful, incredible husband.”

Your free hand smooshes his cheeks together and tugs him down gently to exchange a tender kiss. It ends much too soon for Joel, him chasing your lips and pouting when you turn away to start serving up dinner.

“Better go tell the girls dinner’s ready before they’ve finished plotting how to stow away candy in the floorboards.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he answers, punctuating the conversation with a cheeky smack to your ass, scampering away quickly before you can pretend to scold him.

Tugging at the material across his stomach, Joel combs his eyes over his reflection in the mirror of your en-suite bathroom. Rolling his shoulders back, the fabric of the yellow and red plaid flannel pulled taut, lifting the hem a couple of inches and showing off the skin of his softened tummy. Dark curls of hair litter the center of the sliver of skin, trailing down under the waist of his dark wash jeans. He doesn’t bother tucking the shirt in, giving himself the breathing room of the few inches at the hem. Fingers grip the thick fabric, sharply pulling it back down to lay over his jeans again.

Picking up the cow-print vest you were adorned with the plastic gold Sheriff badge downstairs in the kitchen, he’s taken back to a few weeks ago at the Halloween store.

You and he had opted to spend Saturday morning taking Sarah and Ellie to pick out their costumes for the holiday, letting them run free until they decided on a shared costume for once. Sarah quickly picked out her size in the Jessie costume, and all of the family agreed to be different characters from the Toy Story movie.

Ellie wandered the aisles, searching for the perfect combinations to create her ideal costume, which was, of course, the mechanical spider toy with the baby doll head that the kid Sid builds in the film. She returns to where Joel is standing with you, staring at the walls of costumes to find something for the both of you; he looks down at his youngest, jumping minutely when he’s faced with a mutilated baby doll mask, shiny plastic reflecting him in the surface.

“Ellie. You can’t be the creepy baby doll,” he sighs, hand falling to his hip as he rests his weight on it, the other leg stepping out while he slowly shakes his head.

Tipping the mask up to the top of her head, Ellie stomps her feet, shoulders falling and head leaning back as she groans in complaint, “Why not, Dad?” She draws out his parental title, kicking the toe of her shoe against the buffed tiles of the storefront that remains empty eleven out of twelve months of the year.

“You’re gonna scare the little kids, and it’ll be your mom and I who are dealing with the angry parents.”

Ellie huffs out a breath, reaching up to snatch the mask off, turning on the heel of her sneaker, and stomping off to go find another costume. Turning his attention back to you at his side, he notices a cheeky smile on your face as you find your size in a woman’s Buzz Lightyear costume.

“What? What are you laughin’ at?” he questions, his lips tugging up in a grin.

“Oh, nothing. Jus’ that you told our daughter she can’t be the creepy baby doll 'cause you’d be the one scared of her.” A laugh takes over the end of your sentence, a flash of your bright smile widening his own.

“Did not. It’s ‘cause we’d have a bunch of crying little kids and judging parents to deal with.”

“Sure, honey, sure. It’s okay if you’re scared.”

Stepping closer to you, he pinches your side playfully, wrapping an arm around your waist to tug you against his side. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, speaking softly, “Know me too well, baby…”

Your free hand pats his chest affectionately and you unravel from his hold. Joel takes your hand before you get far, intertwining your fingers together while you both shuffle along the wall of costumes. The plastic bags shine, displaying cartoonish outfits of various characters. The exaggerated smiles of the models give him the heebie-jeebies, shuddering his shoulders at the thought that any grown person would be that excited to wear itchy polyester once before letting it collect dust in their closet and giving it away before next Halloween.

Halting in front of the costume you were looking for Joel, you bend down to flick through the sizes, your lips pulling together in a thoughtful pucker. Standing back up straight next to him, your teeth toy your bottom lip left to right, eyes scanning for any other options before you turn toward him.

“Can’t find what you’re lookin’ for, baby?”

With a shrug, you respond, “They have the costume the girls wanted you to wear, but they don’t have your size. Think I can find some stuff at the thrift store or TJ Maxx or online to make the costume up if that’s okay—”

“Whatever you need to do. S’fine.”

“I’m sorry, hon, but you don’t need to worry about it, I’ll find everything.”

“Said s’fine, darlin’. Don’t even need to dress up, really.” A small seed of shame is planted in his gut, insecurity watering it and causing it to grow, branching off to tangled in his chest. Comfort eases him out of the spiral when your hands find his chest, rubbing softly and tilting your head to meet his gaze with pure affection.

“Still gotta dress up with us, hon. Who’s gonna be the Woody to my Buzz if it isn’t you? Can’t dress up as one half of the best friend duo without my best friend,” you grin, standing on your toes to catch his lips in a gentle kiss, which ends too soon for his taste despite being in the middle of the shop.

Vest shrugged onto his shoulder, and he gives himself another once over in his full outfit, the same insecurity from a few weeks ago pouring down to cultivate his shame. He doesn’t look the same as he did when he met you, even the same as he did last year. Graying hair and salt and pepper beard, lines next to his eyes and across his forehead, only deepened when he furrows his brow at the look of him in his costume.

He looks ridiculous.

Better to get this night over with, let his girls enjoy themselves, and attempt to forget his discomfort in the outfit. Picking up his cheap cowboy hat that arrived in the mail earlier that week, he avoids another look in the mirror before he slips out of the bathroom, eyes focused on the toes of his boots while he walks out the door of your bedroom, past the full-length mirror next to your closet and the small round one on your vanity.

No need to foul his mood and spoil the fun. It’s for his girls.

The screams and laughter of children echo into the deepening night sky, the street bright from the lamps lining it along with porch lights staying on, open garage doors, all signaling a welcoming to the trick-or-treaters to come and grab their haul from each vast bowl or cauldron of candy.

Blurs of costume cross below Joel’s sightline as he walks hand-in-hand with you, kids running around blindly, the safety of such a crowd in the small neighborhood blanketing them with trust that they’ll be able to find their way home wherever they end up. Sarah and Ellie are ten paces ahead, moving quickly and efficiently to “maximize their candy collection”. Ellie’s words, after she presented her hand-drawn map of their neighborhood and the one across the main road, highlighting which houses are notorious for King Size treats and noting which ones give out toothbrushes or nothing at all.

The collar of his flannel is tightened around his neck from the string of his chestnut cowboy hat. Pulled down to rest on his clavicle, the body of the hat swings against his back as he walks, only adorning the top of his head for a few photos that you insisted on dragging out the tripod and self-timer for in the middle of the living room. He took the rest of the photos you wanted, maybe a bit too eagerly getting out of the frame and relaxing the slightest bit behind the camera. Photo evidence of how laughable he looks does not need to exist en masse. With a sigh, he reaches a hand up to tug the string down for what feels like the tenth time in thirty minutes of walking, relief felt for a few seconds before it slides back up to the base of his throat, flipping up the collar of his shirt with it.

Denim from his dark wash bootcut jeans starts to dig into his hips, roughening the skin there from his strides and their inch-too-small size from the year prior. These were deemed his “nice” jeans, per your request, only pulled out a handful of times a year for occasions that he was meant to look nicer than his raggedy Levi’s, covered in spots from paint, wood stain, oil, or dirt, the fraying, white strings hanging from the hems and ripping when caught under his step — all the signs of his day-to-day life. What he’s comfortable in.

These — these are not comfortable, not worn in enough to feel buttery against his skin, and not returning to his size even after washing and line drying. These are stiff, formed to his skin and resisting a tightness with each swing of his legs. The fresh material rubs against his bare skin underneath, the waist of his boxers falling an inch or two down to create the perfect space for the waistband to chafe. He’s tempted to pause the two of you walking along, long enough to tuck in the material of the flannel, but quickly decides against it when he thinks about the exaggeration of his stomach with the form-fitting, tucked shirt stretched over it.

Occupied in his thoughts, he barely notices that you've slowed down until you come to a stop at the end of a driveway, two streets over from your own home, waiting as your daughters wait in line for their packaged sugar.

You hold onto his bicep with your opposite hand, leaning your weight against his side. Like a weighted blanket, in the interim of a hug from you, he takes on the change to his equilibrium, relishing in the comforting press of your body against him. Easing away his anxieties and his insecurities that, of course, had to be present for this wholesome, once-a-year family night; he rests his chin on your head, breathing in the smell of your rosemary and mint shampoo, tingling his nostrils and drinking down the scent he’s so familiar with.

His focus draws to Sarah, hair in a French braid pulled away from her face and cherry red cowboy hat on her head, and Ellie, lime green face paint that she insisted on and an antenna sticking up from the top of her head and exaggerated, pointed green ears all attached to the same headband. The two of them are near the front of the queue for candy at this particular house, the process a bit more involved with a haunted graveyard required to pass through to earn your sweet reward.

All she’d been saying the whole night since getting dressed had been “The claaaaaw!” or “I have been chosen!”. She screams the latter in the face of a teenager who pops out from a bush to scare her, completely unphased as she sneaks past him, grabbing a handful of candy for her and Sarah, running back down the path with her older sister before they pause to distribute the goods.

Joel lifts your joined hands, hooking his arm over your shoulder and laying your arm across your chest as he gathers you closer.

“So how many cavities do you think we’ll be paying for ‘cause of tonight’s candy haul?” he wonders aloud, a smile ticking up the side of his mouth when you giggle at his joke. It never gets old, being able to make you laugh, and it’s like a weed whacker to the strangling vines of his insecurities growing tightly in his chest. A looseness that gives him the chance for a deep breath, gratitude wilting the branches as he studies the grin on your face, the admiration twinkling in your eyes.

“Probably should be callin’ the dentist to see if they have a two-for-one discount.” It’s his turn to laugh at your response, tautening his arm around your shoulders to tow you closer to him, your head tilting back as you swing your front toward him. Joel bends his neck, pecking your lips with a smile before he looks back toward his daughters walking back to the two of you.

Annoyance thumbs the bruise of shame, driving his frustrations higher; his hand reaches up again with a huff, yanking the string away from his neck, “Thing’s like a damn noose…”

“Jus’ take it off, hon, I’ll carry it for you,” you sweetly suggest, swinging your joined hands between your bodies.

“But, you got it for me…” he mumbles guiltily, a worry in his voice over your potential irritation with him. Ever the masochist, Joel argues with you, not wanting to disappoint. He knew he should have just kept his mouth shut—

Pausing in your steps, you hang behind him long enough to snatch the hat off his back, releasing it from around his neck and depositing it on your head in one smooth movement. Taking his hand again, you continue, unphased by his complaints and happy to hold onto the new accessory.

At the next house, the two of you wait at the end of the driveway for the girls; Joel taps the side of his pointer finger on the brim as you look up at him, a cheeky smile growing on his face as a thought distracts from his festering doubts. His voice lowers, rasping as he speaks only to you, attempting to disguise the conversation from all the people milling about.

“Y’know, there are consequences for stealing a cowboy’s hat, baby.” Wetting his lips with the quick swipe of his tongue, his hands drift to your waist, fingers stretching to skim the top of your ass, dangerously close to grabbing a handful in front of everyone.

“M’well aware of those consequences, cowboy. Why d’you think I took it?” You shoot him a wink that goes straight down below the belt, a brazen flash of mischief in your eyes, the reflections of yellow lamplight lighting them up further.

Gripping his biceps, your nimble fingers squeeze gently while your thumbs rub massaging circles into his slightly flexed muscles. A nearly inaudible hum of a moan rolls from your chest, one of his hands gathering the polyester material of your dress tightly at the sound. Beckoning him to fold forward with one look, he molds his lips to yours in a supple kiss. It lasts only the length of an inhale, drinking in the taste of your lips before your warmth is fleeting, hands patting his chest in a signal to wrap it up.

He grumbles, irritation heating under his collar as he itches to get home and for the night to be over, now for more than one reason. You laugh softly at his annoyed pout, poking his chest as you tease, “What? Mad ‘cause you got a snake in your boot?”

“More like in my jeans…” he mumbles under his breath, loud enough for you to hear and playfully jab his arm, shaking your head as you breathe out a chuckle from your nose.

“Nice, Miller. In a costume for a kid’s movie no less.”

He matches your laugh, shrugging when you turn in his arms, back to him as you await your daughters to make their way back to the both of you. His arms drape around your hips, tugging you into his chest to press against him comfortably, the plush-filled wings of your costume padding you against his torso. Lips find your ear, chin resting on your shoulder as he responds, “What’s the saying from the movie? To infinity and beyond? Reckon that’s where I’ll be takin’ you by the end of tonight.”

“Joel!” you attempted to chide, your laughter exposing your real feelings over the suggestive comment, laying your arms over his. The girls walk toward the two of you, and he takes a second to press an open-mouth kiss to your neck, nipping at your skin before unfurling himself from you. A light smack on the side of your ass is the punctuation to the teasing, Joel standing up straight and taking your hand.

“Giddy-up, partner,” he murmurs before turning his attention to Sarah and Ellie, overly excited and completely calm. “Whatcha y’all get this time? Anything good?”

They answer over each other and he nods along, corralling them to start to walk to the next house, “Alright, mission accomplished at this house. Onto the next, we gotta get this wagon a-movin’! Only got another hour in me, girls.”

Protests whine against his announcement and your daughters start to walk faster, determined to complete their hit-list for the houses with the good stuff. You laugh to yourself, shaking your head as Joel looks over at you, feigning innocence.

“What? Got a bad back, bein’ out in the cold makes it worse.”

Now back at home, the four of you are gathered in the living room, costumes all on still as you seek out the comfort and warmth of the soft furnishings and blankets. Joel lounges on the couch, you next to him, back leaning against his side while your legs stretch out on the rest of the sofa. Ellie and Sarah have taken to the floor in front of the coffee table, massive pillowcases dumped out and beginning to be sorted. Every so often, you or Joel get up with the sound of the doorbell, passing out candy to the dwindling number of trick-or-treaters. Eventually, the intrusion stops completely, the TV playing a bad, kitschy Halloween movie per the request of the girls.

They trade their earnings, and you and Joel steal on the sly, both from the bowl you were handing out and from Sarah and Ellie’s piles. Wrappers are strewn around the floor and across the surface of the coffee table, the sound of another torn open by the girls making you sigh and sit up.

Holding out your hand, you shake your head, beckoning for the treat with your fingers, “Okay, Ellie. No more candy. You’re not going to be able to go to sleep if you keep eating it now, it’s too late.”

Ellie whines, rolling her head back with a groan before pleading her case, “Please, Mom, just this last one! And then I’ll be done, promise. Please.”

Joel chuckles when she shoots you the same puppy dog eyes that he gives to you to get what he wants, knowing his smirk grows wider when you fold easily. Shooting your head over to him, you announce to the whole room, “No more candy for anyone. C’mon girls, put it all back in your bags.”

Calmness finds itself back in the room once all the complaints are lodged with you, the girls lying down to watch the movie while you continue to sit with Joel. Spaced out as he focuses on the film, his attention is grabbed when he hears the crinkle of wrappers and glances around to find all three of his girls indulging further.

With the remote from his lap, he pauses the movie, pouting as he exclaims, “Hey! What happened to not havin’ any more candy? If I can’t have anymore, y’all can’t either.”

Sneaking the last bite of her fun-size Snickers bar, Ellie giggles and shrugs, always the smart aleck, “Well, you are gettin’ a little pudgy, Dad, maybe less candy’ll help.”

Sarah and you giggle at her lighthearted teasing, and Joel waves it off with a breathy chuckle, leaning back against the cushions as Sarah chimes in with her jests, “Yeah, think you’re getting a little fluffy, Dad. Better to lay off now than at Christmastime with all Mom’s cookies.”

Joel attempts to defend himself from the teasing by threatening their candy supply, eager to end the conversation as the back of his neck heats up, “If m’already gettin’ pudgy then I guess that permits me to eat all your candy.”

They both are in a fit of giggles, continuing to tack on silly comments as Joel sits quietly on the couch, trying to mask the way the words worm their way in, feeding the shame and insecurity that was already festering in his chest from the last few weeks.

You roll your eyes, shaking your head with a smile as you laugh softly, “Alright, alright, enough. Think that’s the sign that it’s time for bed. C’mon, up up up.” Before standing, you pat Joel’s thigh and shoot him a carefully concerned look, but he wipes away your worry by sending you a warm smile back, laying his hand over yours and squeezing gently.

Joel stays downstairs to clean up, the girls both saying goodnight before you follow them upstairs to get them ready for bed. Gathering candy wrappers in his fists, he throws them away in the kitchen, stomach rolling as he replays the small comments from minutes ago. He knows it was teasing, all in good fun as it always is between his girls and you, but he can’t shake the heaviness inside of him, the hot prickles of shame when he passes by the mirror in the hallway on his way back to the living room.

The bowl of extra candy you were handing out gets placed back on the coffee table, his silly cowboy hat from the evening deposited on top of it to hide the contents. Not that he was going to eat anymore, he couldn’t stomach even the thought of anything else when all he could think about was how much he desperately wanted to shed his skin at that moment. Breathing shallows when he settles on the couch again, one of his hands pressing onto the left side of his chest and willing his heart to slow down, for his brain to silence itself.

The skin of his palm meets the scruff of his beard, scratching against the roughened, worked skin. Grays in his hair, salt and pepper beard, wrinkles on his forehead and at the side of his eyes, softened tummy from years of love and care, from an easy life with you.

He certainly isn’t the same Joel that you met all that time ago, that you fell in love with. Have you noticed the changes as much as he has?

He swears you haven’t aged a day; all the more beautiful with each passing day.

Light steps carry you back downstairs, the sound shaking Joel out of his thoughts as you swing around from the staircase and through the entrance to the living room. Joel relaxes on the couch, the same spot he was occupying before, only sinking further into the cushion, shifting to pull the fabric of his shirt away from his stomach. Glancing up at you, away from whatever was playing on the TV that did nothing to distract him from himself, he sends you a tight smile, stretching an arm over the back of the couch to welcome you in.

Accepting it, you sit next to him, curling up into his side with your legs under you, leaning against his frame with your comforting weight. Your hand rests on his chest, your head on his shoulder while you both watch the TV movie playing. Silence falls between the two of you, minutes passing by with only the noise from the speakers, the volume turned low so as not to disturb the kids upstairs.

Joel feels your hand move against his chest, curling up to leave your pointer finger extended, the pad of it skimming against his flannel. He ignores the feeling, figuring it’s you fidgeting as you do while you focus. The same thing as twirling your hair while you’re reading, tapping your foot as you cook.

But when your hand stairs to wander, his eyes flick down to watch its path, your gaze still facing forward and quiet. With your thumb and index finger, you work open the first button on his shirt, trailing down with the rest undone in your route. Slipping under the material, your cold hand presses against his chest, nails scraping against the skin there. With a sigh at the contact, Joel finally uses his hand to gently caress your chin, turning you to face him.

Low and rasping, he questions, “What are you doin’ exactly, darlin’?”

Innocently, you shrug, bottom lip bit down on while your touch moves lower again, skimming across his stomach and reaching the waistband of his jeans, “Well, I still have to face the consequences from stealin’ your hat, cowboy.”

Fingers dip below his belt line, toying with the elastic band of his boxers. Slipping away, he almost protests at the loss, biting his tongue when you move next to him, sitting up on your knees while both hands reach for the button and zipper of his jeans. When his button pops from its secure place, he warns with a breathy exhale, “Baby…”

“Mhm, yes, honey?” you reply, words trailing up at the end, feigning naivety. Through your lashes, you send him a pout, tongue poking out to dampen your plush lips that he stares at, his mouth parted with heavy breaths. His blood is rushing from his head, leaving him feeling light, as it all pumps to his cock, your delicate and teasing touches getting him half-hard.

Before you can tug down his zipper, you pause, taking your hands off of him; he holds back a whimper, the sound dying as a low hum in his throat.

“Don’t worry, baby, m’not done yet. Let’s go to our room, yeah?” Your voice is soothingly saccharine, an eager nod being his only response.

Shutting off the TV, you stand from the sofa and take his hand, snatching the cowboy hat from the coffee table before pulling him to stand and follow you across the main floor, down the hallway into your first-floor bedroom. Joel shuts the door behind him, your nod toward the handle serving as a reminder for him to flick the lock.

“Y’know, honey, you’re always showing me how you feel about me. I think it’s time we had a night that’s all about you…” He’s holding in a breath as you stalk closer to him, shaking his head as the back of his neck heats up.

“No, baby, you don’t—I don’t…” he stutters before trailing off, ashamed that he can’t think of any other excuse than the truth of why he does not want the attention on him tonight.

“You don’t…?” Running your hands across the expanse of his chest, he drops his shoulders in, curling around to make himself smaller, one foot stepping back but he doesn’t move from under your touch.

Shaking his head, he avoids your eyes, faintly confiding, “I don’t feel like I deserve it. I jus’, I’d rather give to you, baby.”

“Oh, Joel…you deserve it and more, honey. Why wouldn’t you?” Your fingers graze up, skating across his skin and carding into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I’m not…not the same. I don’t look like who you fell in love with. Everything’s changing, catching up to me. Got gray hair and white in my beard and wrinkles and a beer belly startin’ and my back hurts all the time. M’not who I used to be but you—”

“Have changed, too. It’s not just you, Joel. Everything’s a little softer now, I’ve got wrinkles too. Found like four gray hairs yesterday and had a mild panic attack before I got into the shower. M’curvier and—”

“And you’re fucking beautiful, baby. You’re as beautiful, if not more beautiful than the day I met you.” He’s quick to defend your negative self-talk, his hands running delicately along the curves of your sides and around your lower back. Enveloping you in his arms, he presses your foreheads together, nose notched next to yours.

“That’s exactly how I feel about you, Joel. Don’t listen to us teasin’ you, especially me, ‘cause I wouldn’t change a thing about you…” As you tilt your head back, your nose grazes against his cheek, feeling a rush of heat from your breath as your lips hover over his, deliciously close to a kiss, “Can I show you what I think about you, honey?”

Joel nods, wordlessly waiting in anticipation; in the next breath, your lips crash into his, drinking him down deep while the hand at the back of his head tangles further into his hair and tugs. He moans, parted lips allowing you to lick into his mouth, whining at the taste of him before you push the flannel material from his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor as you continue to dominate the kiss.

Pressing your hands against his strong chest, you push him back with a step. Joel follows your lead, carefully moving backward, your tongue melding with his. All he can focus on is the taste of you — sweet, fruity, with the tang of citric acid from all the sour candies you stole from the bowl, the softest hint of chocolate as an aftertaste from his indulgences. The flavors of you coat his mouth, the scent of your perfume and shampoo mixing in his nose, and the feeling of your soft skin in his rough palms when he hikes up the skirt of your dress, grabbing a handful of your ass; it all stirs together, creating an intoxicating cocktail of you that he can seem to taste enough of. Joel’s legs hit the edge of the bed, and he’s being pulled away from your mouth with a pop when you ease him to sit down. Curiosity flashes in his mind, the sight of you over him with kiss-swollen lips growing the bulge in his undone jeans. Eager hands find your hips, grazing over to your ass as he looks up at you standing over him.

“Whatcha wanna do, beautiful?” His voice is lecherous as it comes out in a rasp, dripping with desire and a bit of wonder over what exactly you’re going to do with your night in control.

You shake your head at him, standing up straight and reaching for his hands, placing them at the hem of your dress, “Go ahead, baby. Take off as much as you want.”

His choice is obvious, tugging the fabric over your head with your help, a hand around your back yanking you to stand close, between his spread legs, while his fingers work open the clasp of your bra. Sitting back on his hands, he observes greedily as you let the straps fall down your arms, dropping the bra entirely onto the floor.

“These too?” Your thumbs hook into the waistline of your panties, doe-eyed and biting down on your body lip teasingly. Cotton-mouthed, Joel nods slowly, lips parted with shaking breath as you strip completely, sinking to your knees in front of him before he can reach out for a handful of your curves.

He lets you work his jeans down to his thighs, his boxers following in their wake, his cock springing free against his bare stomach. You keep eye contact as you kneel in front of him, his keen stare unblinking as his tongue pokes out to wet his lips, the need to see every single one of your movements outweighing the drying of his eyes with his slow, infrequent blinking. Scooting to settle comfortably on your knees, you stand up straighter, gaining enough height to bend your head over his lap, lips meeting his soft tummy and hands gripping onto his thighs. Delicate kisses and ghosting touches on his skin raise goosebumps, a warm shudder trickling down his back at your tenderness.

“So handsome…” you whisper, grazing your teeth into the flesh of his torso, biting down to nip. “Y’know I think about doin’ this all the time, baby. Every time you take off your shirt, jus’ wanna sink my teeth into you.”

His cheeks heat with sincere attention, muscles in his abdomen flexing when you litter lovebites and heated, open-mouth kisses all over him, the gentle touches and desire to relax his anxieties slowly. The focus on your mouth drops to his thighs, turning your head to the side when you sit back on your haunches, licking a stripe up toward his aching cock, a quivering exhale from his mouth drawing your eyes to his face. A satisfied smile stretches across your face, kissing his inner thigh before mirroring the actions on the opposite side. His fingers curl into the duvet, gripping hard as your lips wander closer to where his stiff cock drips needily, throbbing for any kind of reprieve.

“You’re so pretty, baby. So strong, solid.” The sweet nothings tickle at the back of his neck, words that he’s sure you’ve spoken before, but at this moment, they raise his body temperature and lighten his head, the only thoughts being how much he needs you.

Standing on your knees again, you bend your neck over Joel’s lap, eyes flickering up to his face to look at him through your lashes. Your lips part, spit dribbling from your mouth and onto his waiting cock, the sensation making him hiss with urgency. One of your hands wraps around him and strokes slowly. He looks down at you with hooded eyes, mouth opening in a small gasp at the languid stimulation. One swipe of your thumb across his tip drags the beads of pre-cum from where they’re leaking, melting them into the mix of your saliva that lubricates your motions.

Searing needles pierce into his skin when you finally give in and press hot, open-mouthed kisses against the soft skin of his swollen length. Your thumb brushes against his tip again, another hiss of pleasure escaping from between his teeth. One of Joel’s hands finds the back of your head, tangling fingers into your hair. He doesn’t move to guide you, simply wanting to touch a part of you to ground himself.

Your free hand gently cups his balls as you press a featherlight kiss to the tip of his hard cock. A kitten-lick swipes up the fresh dribbles of pre-cum that have collected and Joel’s fingers tense against your strands. Humming satisfied with the reactions you’re drawing from him, he looks down at you meeting his gaze, feeling the splotches of redness growing across his cheeks and neck at the frustration of your light teasing. He groans out your name as your mouth works to tease him more, not having taken him fully in.

“Fucking hell, baby, quit teasin’, please.” Joel rasps as he watches your methodical seduction. He applies the smallest pressure against the back of your head when your lips finally wrap around just the tip of him, a moan of relief rolling from his chest.

Your eyes stay glued on his face, and he’s lost in the delicious warmth of your mouth, unabashed in every response that he’s having to your mouth working him. Starting a slow bob up and down, he moans at the weight of him on your tongue, saliva coating the underside of his cock as he feels you curl the muscle against every vein. With half of him with your mouth, your hand working what isn’t initially fitting inside. His noises grow louder and in quicker succession, hyperaware that his cheeks are likely visibly warm and eyes dark with a craving when he looks down at you again.

“Such a sweet girl. Look so pretty with my cock in your little mouth. Think you can take more, baby? Think I can fit in your throat?” You shift in your position slightly, thighs rubbing together and a chuckle rolls from his lips, smug in the need he’s drawing from you simply from enjoying his pleasure. A sigh exhales around him in your mouth as your thighs rub together to relieve some of your aches.

The rhythm of your head brings his cock deeper, his tip brushing the back of your throat. You swallow around him and it squeezes him just right, a loud moan rumbling from his chest, the reverberations sending aftershocks to the tips of his ears. At that point, he gets lost in the high feeling, his composure leaving him when his large hand at the back of your head pushes you down onto his cock, taking him down your throat further and causing you to gag. Tears spill from your eyes and spit drips from the sides of your mouth, the blow job quickly turning sloppy as Joel takes more control.

“Fucking hell, darlin’. Taking me so well on your own, being such a good girl for me,” he whines, heading tilting back as his eyes squeeze shut, shallow thrusts meeting the rhythm of your head. “Gonna fuckin’ come, baby, holy fuck, I—”

A moan around him gurgles to nothing when he thrusts again, hand tangled in your hair pulling you back until his tip rests against your lips, “Don’t wanna—please—” His words are lost on the tip of his tongue, pleasure hazing his mind as he searches for the plea he wants to make with you.

You giggle from your knees, swiping your fingers to wipe away the drool from the corners of your mouth, a satisfied smirk on your face. Bracing yourself on his thighs, you push yourself up, standing in between his legs while your hands find his shoulders, scraping your fingernails against the curve of them.

“You wanna come inside of me? Not my mouth? Is that what you were trying to say, baby?”

“Yes,” he exhales, relieved to find the word he needed, blinking open his eyes to look up at you. Your thumb skates across his bottom lip, holding onto his jaw as you study his features.

“I’ll give you whatever you want, Joel. Anything for my perfect, doting husband. D’you know how fucking good it makes me feel to make you feel good?” you question curiously, tilting his head as he lets you mold him whichever way you want. “Tell me how you deserve to have me like this. ‘Cause you’re so fucking good to me, tell me that you’re gonna let me fuck you, let me take your come inside of me.”

“Baby, I don’t think that—” he starts, palms pressing into the backs of your thighs as he looks up at you.

“Tell me, Joel. You said you wanted to be the one giving to me tonight. That’s what I want.” You use his earlier, shy request against his negative thoughts, and the intensity in your eyes bends him to your will.

“M’gonna let you have my cock, gonna let you fuck me and show me how much you love when I take care of you.” The words roll foreignly on his tongue, unconvincing coming from his mind to his mouth. You bend a knee, bringing it up to rest next to his thigh, nodding along to encourage him to continue, “I give you whatever I can give to you, and always gonna, baby. Now’s your turn to take care of me, right?”

“That’s right, honey. I should show you how much I appreciate you more often…you work so hard, give us exactly what we need, and provide for us. My big, strong man. You do so much for me, baby. Gonna show you how thankful I am for you, how grateful I am that you’re lettin’ me have this cock,” your words breathe hot against his ear, your other leg now straddling him on the bed, cunt hovering over his waiting cock. A hand leaves his shoulders, reaching between your stomachs to wrap around him, guiding him to your entrance. His breath catches in his throat when you ease down onto him, pushing through the wet seal of your slit.

Wet heat envelopes him, taking in a few inches of him; Joel groans under you, head falling forward onto your breasts, forehead pressed into your sticky skin. One hand tangles into his curls, dragging his head back to look into your eyes. Your hips start to move, adjusted to his size easily and taking more of his cock, letting it split you open inch-by-inch. His eyes wildly search yours, seeing the pleasure overtake your mind, lips parting to match his as you both breathe out shallow, hot breaths.

“Fuck, Joel, so fucking big…” you whine for the first time tonight and the sound goes straight to his cock, twitching him inside of you as his hips jerk up, giving you another inch. Lust clouds his mind, nodding confidently as you take him, desperate to feel your tight, dripping cunt around him entirely.

“I know, baby, I know. Should’ve let me get you ready. But I bet you like the stretch, like a lil’ bit of pain, huh?” he coos, arm snaking around you to hold you closer, your eyes fluttering closed above him as you nod languidly.

“Fuckin’ love it, makes it feel even better,” you whimper when his arm tugs you down further, only an inch or two away from him being fully sheathed.

“C’mon, be my good girl, baby. Show me how you sit on my cock.” He leans forward, bending you backward with his force and holding you tight, his lips attaching to the soft, velvety skin of your breasts and biting, “Gotta face your punishment for stealin’ my hat. Take a cowboy’s hat, gotta ride the cowboy, babygirl. I don’t make the rules.”

You giggle, eyes clearing as you’re pulled out of your cloud of pleasure, gripping onto his shoulders and holding eye contact as you finally sink completely down, burying Joel’s cock inside your soaked pussy. Moans echo in the room, bitten down before they get too loud, your hips immediately finding a quick, sloppy pace to chase your highs. The slick glide of your walls grip his cock lusciously, your flooding arousal coating his balls as thighs as you ride him. Little noises slip from your mouth, simmering the coals burning in the base of his gut as he feels the familiar bliss building.

“Is this what I’m supposed to be doin’, cowboy?” you wonder, hips continuing their pace and mouth twisting as you hide a smile. Joel is unashamed, a wide grin on his face as he unravels one arm from you, picking up the hat from the corner post of the bed, and setting it loosely on top of your head. Giggles erupt from the both of you, your pace faltering as the muscles in his stomach cramp from use.

Recovering from the interlude, your thighs rub against the outside of his as you bounce, nails digging into his shoulders as your rhythm picks back up, the slap of skin against skin the only noise save for your airy breaths that get shallower and shallower. Flames have ignited in his gut, licking inside and burning hotter and hotter the closer he gets. Nearly at the edge, he needs more, body taking over and lifting you with him as he stands, holding you up on his cock as he thrusts hard and quick into you, dripping for him and gripping him tight to keep yourself up while he fucks into you.

“Oh—fuck, Joel! Right there, m’gonna—oh!” Your desperate pleas in his ear pitch up as you moan, cunt tightening with a flutter around him as you come, soaking his dick as he continues his hard pace, selfishly chasing his high.

A growl rolls from his chest when you come, his fingernails biting into the flesh of your ass, the slap of his balls against your skin as they draw up. His eyes squeeze shut as he moans your name, the first rope of his come released into your cunt, smaller whimpers following in its wake as he fucks one, twice more, filling you up as deep as he can.

Limbs feeling heavy, he turns you both around, pulling you off of him and dropping you gently onto the mattress. He flops down next to you onto his stomach, blissfully out of it as you move to straddle his back, fingers working the knots and soothing the aches growing there after a long week of work, and a night spent corralling your kids.

The warm press of your body against his back makes him hum contently, your breasts at his shoulder blades as you lay on him, one of his hands reaching the rub his fingers softly against the outside of your thigh.

“You know I think you’re the most handsome, right, honey?” you ask with a hint of worry in your voice, barely above a whisper. He nods, rolling over to his back underneath you and meeting your eyes, brow furrowed with concern.

“I know, baby. Jus’ was feeling weird this whole week. You made it a lot better, though.” A knuckle nudges your cheek, and you take the hat off, Joel chuckling again as you throw it off to the side of the bed. Laying down on him again, he strokes your hair while you hug yourself to his torso, both your eyes and his fluttering shut with exhaustion, from tonight and life in general.

Before drifting off, Joel speaks up, cheekily asking, “So…can I wear this costume next year, too?”

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cupids-chamber · 6 months

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— “ MAKE-UP “ Content tags: Gender Neutral Reader, Suggestive, Un-edited. Prompt: Vil does your Halloween make-up (or) Vil does your make-up. (In case you don't celebrate Halloween)

Vil hummed, his hand traveled from your thigh to around your waist, his soft fingers touched your sensitive skin bringing you both closer than you both were before—your chest practically touching his own as his other hand fiddled with his makeup box. You could feel his hot breath linger on your neck as he searched for some sort of lipstick shade or whatever; your mind blanked on the minor details, a part of you was still confused as to how you got here, sitting on his lap as he does your makeup.

You didn't quite expect this—not once did it occur to you, that you'd end up in this compromising situation. Vil's hands gripped your waist tighter, his nails slightly digging just a bit deeper on your sensitive skin knocking you back to reality, he muttered a harsh, "Stay still" and you paused in place.

His soft fingers gently grazed the red nail marks, as if to apologize for his previous harshness. You closed your eyes tightly as you felt something outlining your lips—'Lip liner?', you opened your eyes, only to find him staring intently back at you, his violet eyes gazing at your lips, going over the outline, you could feel his warm breath, you could feel his chest rise and fall with every breath, his lips mere inches away from your own—And then he backed away, and the next thing you felt was a cold wet tissue, wiping away some mistake he made and you could see the way his brows furrowed in slight annoyance.

Somewhere along the lines everything blurred and the next thing you heard was; "Close your eyes", and you did, but for some odd reason it felt harder than before, your eyelids twitch as you try your best to keep them closed, you felt Vil's hands hold your face up high, his soft fingers grazing your chin pulling you upwards, and after a few moments you hear chuckling, "Why do you look so scared, like a rabbit"

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anto-pops · 10 months

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Beseech Me - Ominis Gaunt x Female! Reader

Summary: Ominis works too much, and your neediness results in you adamantly refusing to go to bed without him. He comes up with a torturous compromise.

Alternatively summarized as Ominis tormenting you while he works until you can't take it anymore. Hot and frantic on-the-desk antics ensue.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, rough sex on a desk, Dominis if you squint

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 as per usual !

“Please, Ominis,” you whined breathlessly, pinching your eyes shut as you fought the urge to writhe in his lap. “Please move– please.”

The man in question only chuckled under his breath, gliding his fingertips lightly up your spine as he maintained his charmed hold on his dictation quill. He made no move to heed your request, instead opting to keep working as if he weren’t buried balls deep inside of your tight heat. When you had asked him to take a break to spend time with you earlier, this was the absolute last thing you had anticipated. The only reason you’d agreed to entertain his idea was because you had convinced yourself that his restraint wouldn’t last– that he would cave and take you on top of the desk in the way you were desperate for him to– but evidently his self-control was unbreakable.

You’d never been proven so wrong in your life. He was clearly deriving some sort of sick, twisted pleasure from toying with you in this manner, and it seemed like the more you begged, the slower his quill moved across the parchment. At this rate, you were certain you would be forced to sit on his cock until dawn.

“You’re hardly in any position to be telling me what to do,” his warm breath ghosted over your neck, the barely there feeling of his lips against your skin making your head spin with arousal. “You were the one who couldn’t wait until I finished my work. Besides, I think this is a perfectly reasonable compromise.”

Swallowing thickly, you dug your nails into his clothed shoulders in a bid to keep yourself still. The urge to rock down into his lap was insatiable, but you already knew that doing so would set you back irritatingly further.

“Don’t move, or you won’t get anything from me,” were Ominis’ exact words. You didn’t doubt for a second that he would follow through on that promise if you let your impatience get the best of you.

You wet your lips and cracked your eyes open to stare at the wall over his shoulder, trying and failing to ignore the pulsing of his shaft within your walls. “It’s just– you’re always working. There’s always more for you to get done, and I get lonely. Please take a break– please fuck me, Ominis, I’m begging you.”

The blond’s fingers skirted down your back once more before moving to squeeze at the curve of your waist, as though he were about to relent. He didn’t, though, and instead opted to press a hot, chaste kiss to your pulse. “I do so like it when you beg…” he mused thoughtfully, dragging his free hand away from the desk to grip the other side of your waist. You couldn’t see his dictation quill, but you heard the scratching of its tip against the parchment slow down some, and your heart skipped a beat as you contemplated whether or not he was finally giving in. “You make it incredibly difficult to focus on important matters, you know that?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but the sudden feeling of Ominis’ teeth sinking into your neck stole the words from your throat. He bit fervently against your flesh, sucking a proprietary mark into your skin with a throaty hum, and your shaky moan reverberated off the walls and caused your lover’s cock to twitch enthusiastically inside of you.

Ominis would be lying if he said teasing you this way was easy. On the contrary, when you had walked into his office to ask him to come to bed earlier, he naturally wanted to agree immediately and forgo finishing his report for the Ministry entirely. Denying you the first time was a necessary evil, but then you had come up behind him to wrap your arms around his shoulders, and he’d been made aware of the silk bathrobe you wore with presumably little underneath. That revelation had shattered the majority of his restraint, and he knew then and there that he wouldn’t be able to pay attention to a lick of his work after that.

You’d been all too eager to take him up on his offer of warming his cock, but little did you know he’d made the suggestion more for himself than for you. Beyond the euphoric sensation of being sheathed in your clenching heat, Ominis relished in working you over the edge with little to no effort– and Merlin, had he succeeded. Your labored breathing in his ear for the past half hour was like the finest of music, and your breasts pressing against his clothed chest was as intoxicating as Firewhiskey.

In truth, he hadn’t gotten much work done for the duration of time you’d been sitting in his lap; he didn’t need sight to know there was a series of meaningless scribbles in the corners of his report, put there entirely to play up his charade. Everything about you was that distracting, and he huffed out a sigh as his baser urges finally won out against his responsibilities.

Ominis laved his tongue over the freshly bruised bit of skin, leaving crescent shaped marks on your hips as he held you tighter to ever-so-slightly grind up into you. The feeling had you gasping into the crook of his neck as your forehead fell against his shoulder, clinging to the fabric of his shirt as you allowed the blond to maneuver you however he pleased.

It took every ounce of willpower in Ominis’ body to keep his voice low and controlled when he murmured, “I suppose you have been well behaved… a little needy, but that’s nothing new.” He pushed your hips back before steadily pulling them forward again, and his eyelids fluttered shut at the sheer bliss the friction offered him. “I’ll fuck you, but you have to wait to come until I say so. Understood?”

The mere thought of having to wait a second longer for him to move had you nodding brainlessly into the crook of his shoulder, and you ardently wound your arms around his neck to hold him closer as you cautiously rocked against him. At this point, you were willing to promise him anything if it meant getting what you wanted.

One of his hands left your waist to wind through your hair, and when he tightened his fingers around the strands to pull you away from him, you couldn’t stop the surprised yelp that tumbled from your parted lips. “Use your words, darling, or I’ll leave you waiting for another hour. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you gasped breathlessly, forced to address the ceiling since Ominis’ hand in your hair had your head tilted back. “I understand, I won’t come until you tell me to. Please, Ominis, I promise–”

“That’ll do,” he cut you off quickly, releasing his hold against your scalp to grip your hips once more. His lithely muscled arms held you flush to him as he stood straight, and the legs of his chair scraped loudly against the floorboards as he kicked it away to give himself more space. In one swift motion, Ominis deposited you on top of the desk and firmly pushed you down so you were draped on your back across the oak surface, his cock still inside you. His clever fingers set to undo the buttons of his shirt as the hand against your sternum trailed lower to tease around your wet folds, and a keening sound resonated from deep in your chest as he grazed his thumb over your sensitive clit.

Much like his shallow grinding earlier, it wasn’t enough. Your voice was airy when you asked, “C-Can I touch myself?”

His hand stilled momentarily before retreating, and he nodded down at you with a coy smirk on his face. “You’re a good girl for asking, so yes. Remember your promise though.”

Your hand flew off the table to rub tight circles against the hyper-sensitive nub, and the relief that washed over you then was tantamount to perfection. It was the stimulation you’d been after since straddling Ominis earlier, and your eyes jumped up to watch as the blond shrugged his shirt off his shoulders and dropped the attire unceremoniously to the floor. His eyes closed momentarily when the attention you bestowed upon yourself caused your walls to tighten around his cock, and a shameless moan ripped from his throat at the same time he leaned forward to brace his arms on either side of you.

“Fuck– you’re greedy for it, aren’t you?”

The clipped edge to Ominis’ voice betrayed just how much he wanted this too, and your breathy laugh filtered up to him as you teased, “Am I to believe you’re not?”

Those milky blue eyes of his narrowed as he processed your remark, and your mouth dried up when his expression shifted into something far more domineering than before. He lifted one of his hands to run the appendage up your stomach, then your chest, before eventually settling against your throat, and your eyes widened when he squeezed gently to convey his feelings on the snide comment.

“Are you sassing me right now? Bold words from the woman who beseeched me to take her on the desk. Just for that,” he started to say, reaching between the two of you to grasp the hand you’d been using on yourself, “no more of this. You’re mine to play with now, darling.”

In a flash, Ominis pinned your hand against the rough wood above your head, holding you firmly in place by the throat with the other. You whimpered pitifully, opening your mouth to stutter out a string of apologies before he forbade you from coming entirely, but a hurried thrust of his hips interrupted your efforts. The force in the action had your shoulder blades scraping deliciously against the desk, and you moaned wantonly as Ominis worked to set a brutal pace.

He spread his legs to accommodate his low hanging trousers before pounding himself roughly into your tight cunt. “Calling me greedy when you’re the one under me getting fucked senseless,” he growled with a gruff tone, squeezing around your windpipe to pull you harder onto his cock as he plunged in and out of you without mercy. “You couldn’t wait– didn’t want to wait. You’re as demanding and needy as they come.”

His head tipped back and sent strands of his blond hair across his forehead as he bucked desperately into your overwhelmingly slick walls, and after being sheathed in your tight heat for so long without moving, he felt himself growing closer to his release as you clenched tellingly around him. Ominis abandoned his hold on your throat as he bent over you, raking his nails down your chest to pinch one of your nipples into a stiff peak, and your back arched off the desk for all of two seconds before the imposing man jerked your head to the side by your hair to sink his teeth into your shoulder.

“O-Ominis, fuck–” you cried out abruptly, the combined feeling of his bite and the slap of his hips against your ass enough to make you see stars. The fire that ignited in your blood had you flushing from head to toe as you frantically sought more stimulation from him, but the whispers of your earlier promise haunted the far reaches of your mind like a ghost. You bit your lip and writhed brainlessly underneath him, fighting your looming orgasm with every ounce of restraint you could muster up. It was easier said than done; between Ominis’ frantic pace, his possessive hold on your hair, and the guttural, animalistic sounds he was making, you wanted nothing more than to finally fall over the edge into white bliss.

Ominis knew it too, but he wasn’t about to give you what you wanted without a little more effort on your part.

Releasing your hair to loop his arm under your rounded spine, Ominis mouthed wetly down the column of your throat before breathing his request against your sweat-slick skin, “Tell me what you want, love. Say the words.”

“I-I want to come– please let me come, Ominis, please.” Your breathless noises grew louder as Ominis licked a broad stripe along your collarbone before kissing and sucking another love-bite right below your clavicle. When he suddenly hauled your waist against him and slammed his cock up into you, your eyes crossed as you gasped for air and let your head fall back against the desk. The blond buried the cacophony of sounds falling from his lips against your skin, groaning at the way you arched hard and tightened perfectly around his throbbing member, and your thighs trembled bonelessly on either side of him.

All you could do was let Ominis hold you, giving yourself over to him completely as he fucked incoherent pleas from your swollen lips and chased his own pleasure. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you fought your climax, and when your lover turned his head to bury his face in the crook of your neck, his pace quickened immeasurably further. His thick cock nailed you perfectly, each thrust he gave you pulling out almost entirely before he stuffed you full again, and the hand he didn’t have pinned to the desk flew up to grip his bicep as your body quaked with pleasure.

It was too much to bear– you needed to come– almost as much as you needed to breathe. The overstimulating sensations were driving you insane, and when Ominis moaned long and loud next to your ear, you almost caved without permission.

Almost.

Ominis knew you were close. He could feel you fighting your finish as you writhed and angled your hips to meet his, and he could hear your cries of his name growing louder and louder until your voice was cracking on the end of your pleas of, “Please let me come, please Ominis– can I come?” He grazed his teeth up your throat towards your ear, and his fingers dug into the bones of your wrist as his grip turned irontight. The arm he had coiled around your waist followed suit, and after a few more hurried thrusts into you, Ominis acceded to your begging.

“Come for me, darling,” he moaned directly beside your ear. “Be a good girl and come for me, let me feel you.”

You didn’t even give him the chance to repeat himself.

Arching clean off the desk, your breathing stopped entirely as you tensed in Ominis’ arms, and a strangled gasp caught in his throat when your sopping wet heat clamped down on his cock to seemingly suck him in deeper. His hand on your wrist fell away in an instant to slip between your flush bodies, and those nimble fingers sought out your clit with a practiced ease that sent your composure careening into oblivion.

The added stimulation was damn near unbearable, but you had no way to escape his unrelenting hands as he held you through your climax. Your voice was a raspy, sinful melody in his ears, and Ominis knew he wouldn’t last much longer. “Merlin, you feel so good, love. So perfect for me– I’m close–”

“D-Don’t stop,” you stammered in between gasps, your nails clawing into the wood of the desk in a bid to find purchase. “Gods, don’t stop Ominis, cum inside– please, please–”

He was all too happy to oblige you. With a throaty groan, Ominis lowered you so you were laying across the desk once again, then slipped his hands under the bent crooks of your knees to push your legs against your chest. Still hyper-sensitive from your ebbing finish, the new angle allowed you to feel more of your lover’s cock inside of you as he began thrusting into you harder and faster. The blond’s head tipped back as he shamelessly moaned your name into the open air, and before long the sound was drowned out by the slapping of his hips against your ass as he pounded into you.

With your thighs nearly pressed together, Ominis felt impossibly thicker as his manhood reached deeper. Everytime he pulled back, the blunt head of his cock rubbed past your sweet spot perfectly, and your toes curled as you gasped and moaned, your senses completely overwhelmed by the overstimulation. Ominis’ grip on your legs turned bruising as his pace grew rougher, steadily losing the fight to maintain his rhythm– especially when your hands flew from the desk to brainlessly claw at his forearms.

“Fuck, darling– fuck,” he grit through his clenched teeth, and with one final thrust into your pulsing core, Ominis came with a husky cry of your name. His hands slid to the front of your legs to pull you back against his hips to better grind against your rear, milking every thick bit of cum from his twitching cock. Hot spurts of his seed painted your insides and brought you higher than before, and your nails dragged down his arms as you keened breathlessly beneath him, wriggling back into his shallow grinding the best you could.

The two of you stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity, but realistically could only have been a handful of minutes. You blearily blinked up at Ominis when he released your thighs to brace his arms against the desk, his chest rising and falling as he sucked down deep, shaky breaths, and you brazenly wound your trembling legs around his waist to keep him exactly where he was. The wet sound of his load squelching out around his cock had him groaning unabashedly— not-so-secretly in love with the sordid noises your cunt made when it was filled to the brim with his cum— and your eyelids fluttered shut as streaks of the white fluid dripped down your ass onto the desk.

When he lifted his head to gaze down in your direction, your stomach flipped at the lustful glimmer in his hazy eyes, and his hands skirted across the oak surface beneath you in search of your face. You angled your head to the side to meet him halfway, and he followed his arm as he bent down to capture your lips in a hungry kiss that said more than words ever could. He still elected to speak, however, amusement lacing his tone as his fingers traced the outline of your jaw.

“I suppose you’re feeling rather pleased with yourself right about now,” he murmured softly against your lips, gently rocking his hips against yours and smearing his sticky seed across your rear. Thus far he had made no move to pull out, but you weren’t about to start complaining. Your current arrangement was beyond preferable to the torturous waiting game you’d been playing with him earlier.

You tried and failed to fight the smirk that stretched across your face, and you chuckled coyly under your breath. “What makes you say that?”

Ominis’ eyes darkened when he pulled away, and his hands trailed higher up the desk to wind in your unruly hair once again as he gathered the strands in his fists. Your eyes widened and your breath halted as he inhaled deeply– as though he were committing your scent to memory– before he nudged his nose against yours and grinned wickedly. “Because now I have every intention of stretching this ‘break’ well into the morning,” he vowed, and the revelation had your heart soaring while your stomach simultaneously flipped on itself. “How many more times can I fill you before it gets to be too much… let’s find out, shall we?”

Swallowing around the lump in your throat, your hands splayed against his pale sternum as you cautiously asked, “Shouldn’t you sleep? You have work in the morning…”

“To hell with sleep,” Ominis tutted disapprovingly at you, tightening his hold against your scalp. “You started this after all. I’ll make sure you’re the farthest thing from lonely tonight, darling.”

If the way his cock seemed to revive inside of you was any indication, you knew with the utmost certainty that he definitely wasn’t lying. You didn’t know whether to be excited or afraid as you realized exactly what it was you’d inadvertently signed yourself up for.

Merlin’s balls— you were in for it now.

#ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x you #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x female! reader #ominis gaunt smut #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfic #ominis gaunt oneshot #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #dominis #I keep saying 'if you squint' but nah this is fr dominis there's no way around it #my writing #finally posting this to commemorate the resolved DDoS attack on my beloved Ao3 #I did not in fact touch grass while the site was down I just produced more content for it LMAOOO

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