#but you know it’ll be fine if we get something else | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joelsgreys · 5 months

Text

someone to be thankful for

DBF! Joel Miller x Female Reader

summary: It’s Thanksgiving—when dinner with your nightmare of a family goes south, you find comfort in the person you least expect it from: your father’s best friend, Joel Miller.

warnings/tags: 18+ only, MINORS DNI. (AU, NO OUTBREAK) non canon, DBF! Joel, AGE GAP (reader is in her 20’s, i do not specify her age, but she’s a recent college grad so do with that what you will, not everyone graduates at the same specific age ya know? Joel is in his mid-ish 50’s). Reader’s a teacher, she is visiting her suburban childhood home from a big city. Reader’s parents are religious and practice traditional-ish gender norms (i.e father is head of the household kinda thing) reader’s family celebrates Thanksgiving (sorry) several mentions of food and alcohol, reader’s parents suck, she has two brothers who come with names, a lot of her relatives come with names, watch out for Aunt Ines she’s a bitch. (TW) body/weight shaming (twice) PLEASE BE MINDFUL if this could be triggering. mentions of and implications of childhood abuse (not graphic) reader’s dad gets in her face, implied infidelity (reader’s dad), implied toxic marriage (reader’s parents). soft, caring, protective Joel. Joel’s recently divorced, mention of Sarah, mentions of the ex-wife. SMUT. oral sex (female receiving) p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) reader states she’s on baby blockers (birth control), creampie, DADDY KINK (bc reader clearly has a few daddy issues), LOTS of pet names (darlin’, baby, pretty girl, sweetheart, honey), size kink (ish?), cockwarming. think i got it all?

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. if this isn’t your thing, that is fine but just keep on scrolling.

MOODBOARD FOR AESTHETIC PURPOSES ONLY, READER HAS NO PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION.

word count: 11.5k

a/n: yeah…idk. this was very delayed because it turned into a whole thing. if anyone actually reads all 11k of this, i will bake you muffins.

You take a deep breath and look in the mirror.

Skirt pressed, not a wrinkle in sight.

Hair brushed, not a single strand out of place.

Makeup done, not a blemish to be seen.

And somehow, someone will still find something.

Something to point out.

Something to comment on.

Something to criticize.

If not your appearance, it’ll be something else.

Because someone always had something to say.

“Should you be eating all of that?”

“Another year gone and still no boyfriend?”

“Don’t you want to get married?”

“When I was in my twenties, I had two children.”

Boundaries didn’t exist on Thanksgiving.

Actually, for your family, boundaries didn’t exist at all—somehow, they are still scratching their heads and wondering why you’d decided to up and leave the minute your high school principal handed over that diploma, your ticket to freedom.

“Sweetie!” Your mother’s shrill voice calls from the kitchen downstairs. “I need a hand! Our guests are going to start arriving soon and there is still plenty left for us to do before they get here!”

You groan outwardly.

There’s still plenty left to do?

How’s that even fucking possible?

You’ve been cooking and baking since sunrise.

“Don’t you think it’s too early?” you’d grumbled at five o’ clock in the morning when your mother had pulled you out of bed, declaring it was time for the big dinner preparations to begin—even though it’d be several hours before your family came over and gathered around the table to break bread. She had pulled the turkey out of the freezer a few days ago, a massive, thirty-pound whole bird that looked big enough to feed a small village. In addition, she had picked up a ham and a brisket. “Mom, why’s there so much food?” Rubbing the sleep from your eyes with the sleeve of your robe, you’d started making your way over to the Nespresso only to realize that the coffee machine was hidden behind paper bags full of groceries. “Are we cooking for all of Texas or something?”

“Very funny,” she had glared at you. “Of course we aren’t.” She started unwrapping the turkey. “We’re simply making sure we have enough food and that we have different options for everyone to enjoy, so knock it off with the wisecracks and get to peeling those carrots for me for the stuffing. There is not a single minute to waste today, you hear me, missy? We’re hosting a dozen people, so everything must be absolutely perfect. I won’t accept anything less than perfection today, do you understand me?”

Thirteen hours later, she’s still driving you insane.

You’re only home visiting until the end of the week and then it’s back to the Midwest. You can survive her for three more days, right?

You hear her calling your name and exhale a small, frustrated sigh. “I’m coming, mom!” you call back. It’s difficult to mask the annoyance in your tone of voice, but somehow you manage it. “One minute!”

Smoothing down your pleated plaid skirt, you take one last look in the mirror to make sure everything is in order—there is a loose thread on the sleeve of your brown, knitted sweater and you carefully snip it off with a pair of scissors before sliding your feet into the comfiest pair of ankle boots you’d packed and head downstairs, nose leading the way as you follow the warm, delicious scent of the made from scratch biscuits and rolls baking in the oven.

You find your mother standing at the center island counter garnishing a charcuterie board with sweet gherkins and sprigs of fresh herbs. She is donning festive apron embroidered with fall leaves over her designer dress; her hair’s still up in rollers. “Finally, there you are,” she huffs out loudly the second she hears you walk into the kitchen. Down the hallway, your father and two younger brothers are shouting at some football game on the flat screen television in the living room—men don’t lift a single finger on this day, at least not in this household. “I need you to start setting the table for me. I have place cards in that bag over there. Make sure your dad’s at the head of the table. Oh and don’t forget to bring out the children’s table for all your little cousins—” She glances up, letting out a small gasp when she sees you. “What in the world are you wearing?”

Frowning, you look down at yourself. “Clothes?”

Her ruby red lips purse together in a tight thin line.

“Honey, that skirt is too short. It’s inappropriate.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at her. “It’s like an inch above the knee, how is that inappropriate? It’s not like it’s a miniskirt, mom.” As she eyes your skirt with disapproval, you decide you’re not in the mood to argue and say, “Okay, fine. I’ll go upstairs and change into something else then—”

“No, no, forget it,” she shakes her head. “We don’t have the time for that.” Your mother whirls around, picking up the bag of place holders—she’d special ordered little turkeys carved out of wood. She also takes a marker and a notepad, shoving everything into your hands. “Here. I wrote down all the names of everyone who’s coming for dinner. The children get place holders too but make sure the little ones are sitting beside someone older to help them. Oh! Did I already mention putting your dad at the head of the—”

Tuning her out, your eyes scan down the guest list and if there’s one thing to be thankful for today it’s the fact that your mother’s given you the power to seat everybody wherever you want. Halfway down the list, you see the names of several relatives that you don’t want anywhere near you at the table. An Aunt Miriam who smells like the inside of a casino; a cousin Jennifer who refuses to acknowledge her forty-eight month old is actually four years old; an uncle Richard who always has one too many beers and winds up spewing antigovernment conspiracy theories, ranting until he’s passed out somewhere, such as on the floor of the guest bathroom.

You get to the bottom of the list and can’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. “Joel Miller?”

She nods, returning to her board.

“You remember Mr. Miller, don’t you, sweetie? He and your father went to college together—he’s one of his oldest and dearest friends. Don’t tell me you forgot about him? You’ve met him plenty of ti—”

“Yeah, I remember who Joel is, mom,” you mutter, cutting her off. “Didn’t he and the family move out to Arizona like, four years ago? To Phoenix, right?” You’d been away for college then. Taking a second glance at the list, you notice she had forgotten the names of Joel’s wife and daughter. Surely, it’d just been a mistake on her part, though. “I had no idea they were in town visiting. Dad didn’t mention it to me at all.”

“They’re not.” She lowers her voice, as if someone else is standing in the room listening. “Joel moved back to Austin, he’s been back for a few days now. He and Connie, they um—” Pausing for a moment, she reaches up and clasps the cross hanging from her neck before whispering, “They got divorced.”

Taken aback, your mouth parts slightly. “What?”

“I know. Joel and Connie were the last people that I ever thought would get divorced. Such a shame,” your mother remarks, shaking her head. “I ran into Mrs. Adler at the super market and she was telling me all about it. Thinks they could have saved their marriage if only those two—”

“Would get right with Jesus,” you finish, biting the tiny smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “She says that about everything, mom.”

“Well, she isn’t wrong! The sacrament of marriage is a lifelong bond that shouldn’t be broken. It’s not right.” Dropping her hand away from her necklace, she crosses her arms over chest. “Anyway, Connie stayed in Phoenix. Sarah’s spending Thanksgiving with her. Your father didn’t want Joel spending the holiday alone and invited him over for dinner. That means I need you to be on your very best behavior tonight. I don’t want you embarrassing your father in front of his closest friend. Is that understood?”

You can’t help but scoff a little. “I’m not a child.”

She narrows her eyes at you and scoffs right back, planting her hands on her hips.

“No, you’re a smart aleck. Need I remind you what happened last Thanksgiving with Aunt Ines?”

Of course she didn’t have to remind you about last year’s fiasco with her insufferable bitch of a sister.

“That’s an awfully big piece of pumpkin pie,” she’d remarked loudly, eliciting snickers from everybody sitting at the table. “Don’t forget, dear—a moment on the lips, forever on the hips. And you have quite a few forevers on your hips already, darling.”

You had smiled sweetly at her, your fingers itching to fling your mother’s fine china at her. “I wouldn’t really worry about my pie, Aunt Ines,” you had said as soon as you realized that nobody, not even your parents, would be coming to your defense. “Much less when your husband’s stepping out and eating someone else’s pie when he’s away on all those so called business trips. Worry about that instead.”

That comment hadn’t gone over all too well. Three months later, Aunt Ines and Uncle Louis started to see a marriage counselor. Whoops.

“Well?”

“She deserved that,” you say, shrugging lightly.

“She’s family.”

“She’s a jerk.”

“You crossed a line.”

“She crossed it first.”

Before your mother can respond, the sound of the doorbell ringing echoes throughout the house.

“Jesus, we don’t have time for this!” Your mother’s eyes widen when she tries running a hand through her hair and realizes she still has her rollers in. “Oh no, people are arriving and I’m still not ready!” She makes a beeline for the hallway. “Get the door and greet our guests, I’ll be down in five minutes!”

She disappears upstairs into her bedroom and you hear the doorbell ring again. Your father shouts for someone to go answer it, someone other than him or your brothers because it is the end of the fourth quarter and they just can’t possibly miss that.

You make your way through the foyer and open up the front door expecting it to be one of your family members, but it’s not.

Your throat instantly goes dry at the sight of him.

He’s broader than you remeber, so much broader.

The fabric of his sage green dress shirt is nice and snug on his frame—stretched taut over the planes of his chest and his wide shoulders. He’s holding a box of store bought something or other but you’re much too preoccupied with the way the sleeves of his shirt are hugging his biceps to notice what it is although you assume it’s some kind of dessert. He looks far more delicious than whatever sweet treat could be in that white box he’s got in his hands.

After a minute, you realize you’ve been gawking at him and the heat rushes to your cheeks. “Hello Mr. Miller,” you greet him politely. “It’s very nice to see you again. Please, come on in.”

He smiles, his brown eyes warm and sweet behind his square, black-rimmed glasses. “You remember me,” he states and the syrupy richness of his voice sends a pleasant tingle up your spine. Stepping off to the side, you allow him inside—as he steps past you over the threshold, the tantalizing scent of his cologne almost brings you to your knees. Notes of a citrus accord like tart grapefruit, fresh bergamot mixed with the woodiness of vetiver and musk; it’s intoxicating, something you could easily get drunk off of if you’re not careful. “I’m surprised. S’been a real long time since you last saw me.”

“It hasn’t been all that long,” you reply, closing the door behind you. You speak to him in the steadiest voice you can muster, with nonchalance—as if you aren’t one missed heartbeat away from feeling like a silly little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Has it?”

He thinks about it. “‘Bout four and a half years.”

“That’s really not that long.”

“S’not,” Joel admits with a chuckle. “But with how much I’ve aged in that short amount of time, I just wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me, y’know? I look a lot different than I used to.” He pauses and laughs, shaking his head. “I must look like an old geezer to you now, don’t I?”

Grays lightly pepper his thick dark brown curls, his beard and his mustache. He’s got crows feet when he smiles, he has worry lines and creases between his eyebrows—he does look a lot older, but he’s so goddamn handsome, wrinkles, fine lines, and all.

You toss him a playful eye roll, prompting a grin. “I don’t think you look like an old geezer, Mr. Miller.”

“Well, you’re sure as hell makin’ me feel like an old geezer by callin’ me that, darlin’ girl.” He gives you a little wink and you’re not quite sure if it’s that, or if it was the way he’d used a pet name that knocks all the wind out of your lungs. “Please, just call me Joel.”

You nod and shyly agree to it. “Okay, then. Joel.”

“S’much better.” His grin widens and a prominent, deep dimple appears on the left side of his cheek.

There’s a silence that follows, but it’s not awkward or weird. It’s comfortable—being in his presence is comfortable. His sweet disposition makes you feel so calm, so at ease.

Joel’s always been a nice man of course, although your interactions with him had been limited—kind, quick hello’s in passing on Sundays whenever he’d come over to watch football with your dad, maybe a polite how are you here and there if you bumped into him at gatherings like a backyard barbecue or birthday party. But you’re older now, no longer the child who greeted her father’s best friend because it was bad manners if she didn’t. You don’t want to throw him that kind, quick hello or that polite how are you and then scurry off the way you used to as a little kid. You actually want to talk to Joel Miller.

But you suddenly remember he’s not here for you.

He’s here for your father.

Joel!” Your mother screeches, five-inch high heels clacking loudly as she descends the staircase. She had ditched the apron and hair rollers—and put on one too many layers of her heaviest perfume. With a delighted squeal, she rushes up to Joel and pulls him into a bone crushing hug, almost causing him to drop the box he’s still holding. “Oh, it is so good to see you! It’s been far too long!”

You force back a small, amused snort.

As if she hadn’t been judging the man for a failed marriage just minutes ago in the kitchen.

It’s performative, too over the top to be sincere.

“S’good to see you too.” He steps back and laughs as he adjusts his glasses with one of his hands. He holds out the box to her with the other. “Picked up a pecan pie on the way over here. I would’a tried to make it myself, but the kitchen’s still all packed up in boxes.” He pauses, laughing again. “Then again, I ain’t really much of a baker. Store bought was for the best I reckon,” he admits, sheepishly. When he shrugs his shoulders, his shirt strains a bit over his frame and even your mother can’t help but stare a little.

Lightly clearing her throat, she takes the box from him and reminds him, “Didn’t I tell you that all you had to bring tonight was a nice, healthy appetite?”

Joel lightly pats his stomach. “Brought that too. In fact, I didn’t eat a thing all day long. I’m absolutely starvin’ right now. Could eat a whole horse.”

“Good! Dinner’s going to be served soon. William’s in the living room with the boys, watching football game after football game. Come with me, I’m sure you’re eager to see him.” Your mother spins on her heel and hands you the dessert. “Sweetie, will you be a gem and go put this in the kitchen for me?” It isn’t a request, it’s an order masked as a request—it’s the kindest she’s been to you all day. She takes Joel’s arm and leads him down the hallway, calling out over her shoulder, “And please set the table!”

You do set the table, and when you do, you decide to sit yourself right next to Joel Miller.

Your mother lightly clinks her knife against the rim of her wine glass and clears her throat. “Everyone! It’s time to join hands and say grace before we dig into our meal,” she announces, her voice breaking through the loud, buzzing chatter at the table. She waits until there’s complete silence and then takes her seat, the chair adjacent to your father’s. You’re on his opposite side and Joel’s right beside you. “I think you should do the honor, William. You are the man of the house, after all.”

Nodding, your father begins the prayer.

“Heavenly Father, bless this food we are about—”

You’re not listening. You’re distracted by the jolt of electricity that zips through your entire body when you put your hand in Joel’s. His hand dwarfs yours and it’s rough and calloused, but somehow it’s the most gentle, soothing touch. Heat prickles at your face and neck when you feel him sweep his thumb across the back of your hand—you open your eyes and glance over at him, wondering if that had just been an accident. You’re convinced it was, until he does it again, running his finger over each knuckle one at a time. Slowly, like he’s savoring the touch.

Biting your lip, you give his hand a gentle squeeze.

His head is bowed and his eyes are still closed, but a faint smile tugs lightly at the corner of his mouth and he firmly squeezes your hand back. There’s an unmistakable desire that’s already burning deep in your lower belly, a flame you can’t extinguish even when the angel on your shoulder reminds you that not only is Joel Miller twice your fucking age, he is also your father’s best friend. His best friend.

“…through Christ our Lord. Amen.”

“Amen,” your relatives chime together in unison.

You force out the declaration. “Amen.”

“Amen,” Joel murmurs, opening his eyes. He turns to you and his gaze flits to your hand in his and for a moment, it almost seems like he doesn’t want to let it go. It feels like Joel doesn’t want to let it go—and he doesn’t. He doesn’t let it go until the sound of your father’s loud, booming voice announcing it is time for him to carve the bird startles the two of you apart. Clearing his throat lightly, Joel turns his attention forward and reaches for his cabernet. He gulps down half his glass in one easy swallow.

Dinner’s fairly uneventful.

You eat in complete silence, as does Joel.

Part of you wonders if it’s because you’re sitting in between him and your father, the only person that he’s most comfortable conversing with. Assuming this is the case, you’re just about to ask him if he’d like to trade places when he turns to you and says, “Your dad told me you went to school in Chicago.”

He’s just being friendly, you remind yourself when your heart starts to flutter wildly at the notion that he wants to talk to you. He’s friendly. That’s all. It doesn’t mean anything.

“Yeah. I did.” You pick up your glass of wine, taking a sip hoping it’ll ease the nerves. “I graduated over the summer and took a teaching job out there.”

“You became a teacher?”

“Yeah. I teach kindergarten.” You smile proudly.

“Can you believe that, Joel?” Your father lets out a scoff and shakes his head. “I spent thousands and thousands of dollars to send her to school. All that money and for what? For her to learn how to teach little ankle biters how to color inside the lines?” He rolls his eyes and gestures to your two brothers on the opposite side of the table. “Now my boys, they are smart. Chose good careers to pursue. Brandon starts applying to medical school in the spring. Oh and Matthew? He got early acceptance to Yale. He plans on studying law.” He shifts his attention over to you once more and shrugs. “Not too sure where I went wrong with this one.”

You stare at him in complete and utter disbelief.

“Dad.”

Chortling, he waves a dismissive hand. “Oh, come on, honey. I’m just kidding around. You know that I don’t mean it.” He then reaches out, pinching your cheek roughly. “Don’t be so sensitive,” he tells you before turning his attention back to his plate.

But he does mean it.

His comments hurt, and you hate that they hurt.

Joel nudges your arm with his. “Y’know somethin’, it takes someone real special to become a teacher, ‘specially to kids that age,” he states in a matter of fact tone. “Someone who’s real sweet and patient, someone real smart too. Someone just like you.”

Warmth radiates through your entire body. It’s not just his words, but it’s the sincerity behind them.

You shoot him a small, grateful smile.

The two of you wind up talking to one another.

Joel’s moving his contracting business, bringing it back to Austin from Phoenix to run it with Tommy, his younger brother who you vaguely remembered meeting a time or two in the past. He mentions his daughter here and there, but doesn’t bring Connie up once—perhaps it’s too painful for him? It’s hard to tell. He seems to be in good spirits and truth be told, it doesn’t appear he’s mourning his marriage; but it’s difficult to believe he’s not missing her, the woman he’d spent three decades of his life with. It shouldn’t even matter to you whether he’s missing his ex-wife or not, if there are residual feelings still lingering around. But it does matter and you don’t know why. Or maybe you do know why, but you’re too ashamed to admit it.

“Do you like Chicago?” Joel questions, curiously.

Shrugging, you respond, “Yeah. It’s a cool city.”

“You plan on stayin’ out there permanently?”

“I’m not too sure,” you admit. “It’s too expensive. I don’t want to live with a roommate forever. Unless teachers start getting paid more, I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to afford to live alone in Chicago.”

Joel seems hesitant about his next query. “Do you ever think ‘bout comin’ back to Austin at all?”

Suddenly, you’re not too sure about that either.

You’ve been itching to go back and get as far from Austin, Texas as possible, but now, it means being far from Joel Miller. There’s a deep, sinking feeling inside of your chest at the thought.

Realizing he’s still waiting for a response, you have no choice but to tell him the truth. “I don’t think I’ll ever come back here, to be honest. Not to stay.”

“Oh. I see.” He sounds disappointed. “Are you—do you plan on visitin’ home again for Christmas?”

“I do. I’ll be here for Christmas and New Year’s.”

He’s being friendly. He’s being friendly. He’s—

“It’d be real nice to see you again then.” Flushing a deep shade of red, subtle regret flashes across his features, as if he’d said it without thinking. Picking up his glass, he drains the rest of his wine and you can swear he’s nervous. About what he’d just said, and about whether or not your parents, who are in such close proximity, had overheard him. Because what business did he have in telling their daughter it would be nice to see her again?

They’re both much too preoccupied. Your father is attempting to be slick checking his text messages underneath the table and you can tell by the smirk on his face that it’s one of his secretaries. He’s got a penchant for perky blondes in tight pencil skirts. Your mother is well aware of this. She is also aware he’s on his phone, but she turns a blind eye just as she always does and distracts herself by being the perfect hostess.

Feeling foolishly courageous, you turn back to him and nod, heart pounding against your sternum. “It would. It’d be very nice, actually.”

Relieved, he nods and murmurs quietly, “We’ll talk ‘bout it later, then. That okay, darlin’?”

Not wanting to seem too eager, you nod again and turn away from him, teeth sinking into your lip in a futile attempt to hide the giddiness in your smile—but the soft chuckle Joel elicits under his breath is a clear indication that it’s useless.

He knows how he’s making you feel. He likes it.

Your mother returns from the kitchen carrying two baskets of fresh crescent rolls, one for each end of the table. She sets one of them down right in front of you and you reach out to take one when a voice, one that sounds as awful as nails scraping down a chalkboard, remarks loudly, “Should you be eating so much bread, dear?” Ines, who’s sitting a couple chairs down, next to your grandmother, looks over at you and raises an eyebrow. There’s a smug little smile on her face, almost as if she were daring you to run your mouth like you’d done last year.

For as much as it pains you, you make your choice and decide not to take the bait. You pull your hand out of the basket of rolls and pick up your glass of wine instead, chugging it down like it’s water.

Frowning, Joel picks up the basket and takes a roll that you assume is for himself, but it’s not. Putting it on your plate, he shoots her a frigid glare. “Don’t you listen to her.” He says it loud enough for her to hear him. “You just enjoy yourself, alright?”

Your aunt bats her eyes, innocently. “Well, I’m just saying. If my skirt was that tight on me, I would be thinking twice about what goes into my mouth.”

Hushed laughter sweeps across the entire table.

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” You slam your empty glass down so hard onto the table that the entire dining room goes completely silent. The little ones at the children’s table stare with big and wide eyes, mouths full of food hung open because a grown up had just used a naughty word.

Your mother says your name warningly. “Don’t you start,” she hisses, shaking her head. “Be quiet.”

Angrily, you round on her. “Seriously? You’re going to let her say that to me? You don’t care that she’s making comments about my weight?” You almost laugh. Of course doesn’t care, she has never cared and she never will. “I’m your daughter! Would it kill you to defend me for once in your fucking life?”

“Shut your mouth!” Your father stands up, shoving a threatening finger into your face, so close the tip of it almost touches the tip of your nose. He hasn’t put his hands on you since you were nine, but he’s as drunk as he is angry, and you find yourself back in the shoes of the little girl who would curl up into a ball in the corner of her room as she begged and pleaded for him not to hurt her. “You hear me?”

Joel stands and walks around your chair. Placing a hand on your father’s chest, he mutters, “Hey now let’s take a step back from her, alright?” He guides him back down into his chair. “Ain’t gotta be in her face like that, Will.”

“I’m sick and tired of her ruining everything—can’t get through one dinner without her screwing it up! Always has to run that fucking mouth of hers! She still acts like a goddamn fucking child—”

You can’t bear to sit there and hear another insult.

Fighting back the hot tears that are threatening to spill over, you quickly stand up and rush out of the dining room. You make a beeline for the front door and step outside onto the porch. It’s about sixty or so degrees in Austin and the cold nips at your bare legs, but that’s the least of your worries. Without a place to go, you descend the porch steps and find yourself walking towards the swing that’s hanging from the old bur oak tree in the front yard. You had asked your father for a swing when you were three years old—it wasn’t until your brothers asked for a swing a couple years later that he’d hung one up.

You sit down, hands curling around the rope that’s so old and weathered it’s beginning to fray slightly but not so much so that you’re concerned about it snapping. You’re so busy trying to keep it together that you don’t notice the sound of crisp, autumnal leaves crunching under a pair of boots behind you. A hand gingerly touches your shoulder. You let out a startled gasp and glance over to see it’s Joel.

“Hey there, darlin’,” he says, gently.

You stare at him in surprise.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Needed to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” you grit the lie through your teeth.

Joel’s expression softens. “You ain’t gotta pretend with me, sweetheart.”

His concern is genuine. It’s real.

You don’t quite know how to handle it. Accept it.

“It got real ugly in there, ‘specially with your dad.”

Tears prickle at your eyes all over again. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Joel. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry?” Baffled, Joel walks around the swing and a minor labored grunt escapes him as he squats in front of you. “There’s a few people who need to be apologizin’ for what happened, but darlin’ you sure as fuckin’ hell ain’t one of them.”

It’s odd. Feels foreign, even.

You’re not used to someone being on your side—it prompts more tears to spring forward and despite your best efforts to fight them off, it’s useless. You manage to whisper his name. It’s a feeble warning, one that’s telling him to go back inside before he’s caught in the torrential downpour of emotions you are mere seconds away from unleashing on him.

But he doesn’t budge. He waits. Joel knows you’re about to break and he’s ready to catch the pieces.

Finally, a tear slips and rolls down your cheek, only to be followed by another and then another. You’re holding onto the swing for dear life now, emotions that you’ve been holding in for your whole life now coming to the surface. The rope digs painfully into the palms of your hands. He reaches out and curls his fingers lightly around your wrists.

“S’okay to let go,” Joel encourages you and you’re certain he’s not just referring to the swing. “Listen to me, darlin’ girl. I ain’t gonna let you fall, alright? I’m right here to catch you. You can let go. I’ve got you, okay?”

You allow Joel to take your hands off the rope and he guides them around his shoulders as you begin to crumble. Leaning forward slightly off the swing, you wrap you arms around him and bury your face into his neck. “Joel,” you choke out his name as he wraps his own arms around your waist, pulling you closer into him.

He feels like stability.

He feels like security.

He feels like safety.

Your entire body shudders as you cry, cry, cry.

“S’alright, sweet girl. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

He repeats his reassurance over and over again.

He wants you to believe it.

And you do believe it.

Joel’s as patient as can be. It’s growing colder and his knees are begging for a change of positon, but couldn’t care less about the discomfort. He rubs a soothing circle into your back and waits until there is nothing left except little hiccups and sniffles.

“Shit,” you mumble when you pull back and notice you’d left behind a wet spot on his shirt along with light traces of mascara. You wipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweater. “I ruined your shirt.”

“S’okay. Nothin’ the dry cleaners can’t take care of for me.” Joel chuckles and lets go of you. “You feel a little better now, darlin’?”

“I do.” You glance over your shoulder at the house, then exhale a sigh and turn back to him, admitting quietly, “I don’t want to go back in there, though.”

He rises to his feet and pulls out a set of keys from the pocket of his black jeans. “Well, y’dont have to go back in there,” he states. “Is there somewhere I can take you? Friend’s house, maybe?”

“My best friend Megan went to Puerto Vallarta for Thanksgiving. Most of my other friends left Austin like I did,” you explain, sighing again. “Anyone who didn’t leave is spending their time with their family tonight and I don’t want to bother them.”

Joel hums, mulling it over in his mind. “Well, don’t know how comfortable you’ll be with the idea, but my place ain’t all too far from here. Ten minutes or so. Less if there’s no one out on the roads.”

“Joel, that’s so nice of you to offer, but I’ve already ruined your dinner tonight. The last thing I want to do is put you out even more,” you say, sheepishly.

“Sweetheart, you didn’t ruin a fuckin’ thing for me tonight. And you wouldn’t be puttin’ me out at all,” he promises. “S’gettin’ late and truth be told, I just wanna get you somewhere warm.” Holding out his free hand, he adds, “And comfortable.”

“But Joel—”

“I can be real stubborn too, y’know,” he teases you with a playful grin. “We’ll be out here all night long freezin’ our fuckin’ asses off.”

He isn’t going to take no for an answer.

“Okay,” you relent, accepting the offer.

You place your hand in his and he helps you off the swing. He doesn’t let it go as he leads the way to a sleek, black Dodge Ram that’s parked behind your grandfather’s silver Mercedes. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before dropping it. “Sorry, sweet girl. It’s a bit of a trip up into the seat,” he remarks, chuckling as he opens the passenger side door for you. He gives you a boost into the truck; the scent of new leather is mixed with that of his cologne. It is all man and couldn’t be sexier. “Good up there?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

Joel closes the door and hurriedly walks around to the driver’s side of the pickup, climbing up into his seat with ease. “Seatbelt,” he tells you as he sticks the key into the ignition. The first thing he does as soon as the engine roars to life is turn on your seat warmer. He switches on the heater as well, waiting a minute before asking, “You warm enough?”

“I am. Thank you, Joel.”

“‘Course.” He nods and pulls away from the curb.

As Joel’s driving you further and further from your parents’ house, all you feel is sweet relief.

“M’sorry the place is such a mess.”

Joel leads you into his living room and touches his hand to the back of his neck, embarrassed.

Amused, you raise an eyebrow at him and say, “I’d hardly call cardboard boxes stacked neatly over on one side of the room a mess, Joel.” You take a look around his townhouse—most of his furniture’s still wrapped up in plastic, except for the black leather couch and the rustic, acacia wood coffee table. He has a flat screen mounted over the brick fireplace; he’s been sleeping on the couch, or at least, that’s what the pillow and Texas Longhorns fleece throw tells you. You turn to him. “If you want to see a real mess, you should see my apartment in Chicago.”

You watch him as he takes off his glasses and puts them down on the coffee table.

“S’it pretty bad?”

“My roommate’s a kindergarten teacher too. You’d be surprised at how many popsicle sticks two girls in their twenties can end up bringing home. Not to mention all the glitter.”

“If you’re tryin’ to make me feel better, it’s workin’ like a charm.” Joel picks up his blanket and drapes it over the armchair adjacent to the couch. “Go on and make yourself comfortable, darlin’. You thirsty at all? I’ve got water or I can make coffee. Also got a pack of beer in the fridge,” he adds, jokingly.

“What kind of beer?” you ask curiously as you sink down onto the couch.

He seems pleasantly surprised by your interest.

“Lone Star.”

“I’ll have one. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“‘Course it’s not too much trouble. Not at all.”

It’s hard not to stare as he walks away towards the kitchen. Your thighs clench together—his back, his shoulders, those unkempt salt and pepper curls of his that tuft at the nape of his neck right above his collar—this man is the epitome of utter perfection. Your mind wanders and you can’t help imagine the way your legs would look thrown over those broad shoulders. How his large hands would feel on your plush skin as they wrap around your thighs to hold them in place against his chest while he fucks y—

“Here you go, darlin’.”

Joel’s deep voice shatters your train of thought.

He’s standing beside you, holding out the bottle of beer, which he’d uncapped along with his own.

Blood rushes to your cheeks. “Thank you,” you say as you accept the beer from him, trying not to lose the sliver of composure that you’re holding onto—it wavers when your fingers accidentally brush his.

“S’it too cold in here for you?” he asks. “I normally keep the thermostat pretty low.”

“It’s a little cold,” you admit. “But it’s not a prob—”

It’s too late. Joel walks over to the fireplace and he manages to strike a match and light it with just his free hand. After tossing in a couple logs, he makes his way back over to the couch and he takes a seat beside you. “That a bit better, sweetheart?”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs. “You said it was cold.”

He takes a long, generous swig of the golden lager before setting the bottle down on one of the green ceramic coasters on the coffee table. He sits back; an arm stretches out over the back of the couch in a casual manner and his legs spread open causing your thighs to clench together once more.

“You feelin’ alright?”

“Huh?” You then realize he is referring to what had happened at dinner. “Oh. Um. Yeah, I’m alright.”

Joel peers at you, his concern evident, clear in the depths of his dark brown eyes. “You sure?”

“No. Not really,” you confess, tracing the mouth of your bottle with your index finger. “But I’ll get over it. I don’t have a choice but to get over it.” Another lump starts forming in the back of your throat and you swallow it, quickly chasing it down with a gulp of beer.

“M’guessin’ your family’s got somethin’ to do with why you decided to leave Austin?”

“Bingo,” you deadpan. “I was so sick and tired of it all. How I was talked to, how I was treated. Like I’m such a fucking disappointment.”

He frowns. “You’re not a disappointment, though.”

“My parents think I’m a disappointment. My dad’s never told me he’s proud of me, Joel. Nothing I do, nothing I have ever done is good enough for either of them, but especially not for him.” There is a dull ache that settles in your heart and all you can do is silently will yourself not to breakdown again, not in front of him, at least. You sigh. “Do you know what it’s like, not feeling good enough for someone that is supposed to love you no matter what? Someone who’s supposed to love you unconditionally?”

Joel knows it’s a rhetorical question, he knows it’s not something you’re expecting him to answer.

But he does answer, because he does know.

“I do, actually. I know all too well what it feels like.”

He looks down at his left hand, which is resting on his thigh and you do too. Your eyes flicker over the fading tanline on his finger—where he once wore a wedding band. You don’t even think twice about it and reach over, sweeping your own finger over the patch of pale skin. Without missing a beat, you tell him, “You’re good enough, Joel.”

He can’t help but laugh a little. “She’d disagree.”

“She’s wrong.”

“You don’t know what happened.”

“I don’t have to know what happened.”

“That ain’t how it works, sweetheart.”

Stubbornly, you lift your chin. “I don’t care.”

Joel laughs. “Y’think you know me, darlin’? Y’think you know what kinda man I am? Hm?”

“I do know.” You place your hand on top of his and his jaw clenches. “You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I know that you’re a good man.”

“You couldn’t be more wrong ‘bout that.” There’s a brief pause and he hesitates before confessing, “A good man wouldn’t be sittin’ here just fuckin’ dyin’ to kiss his best friend’s daughter.”

You freeze and grip your bottle so tight, you would not be the slightest bit surprised if it shatters right in your hand. “You—you want to kiss me?”

“Since the moment you opened up that front door and said hello to me.” Joel shakes his head. “S’not right.” He’s riddled with guilt, with shame. He pulls his hand out from under yours. “I ain’t a good man at all. You’re half my fuckin’ age and I shouldn’t—”

You cut him off, softly uttering his name. “Joel?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounds hoarse. Strained.

“Can you—will you kiss me? Please?”

You need more than just his kiss, so much more.

You need him to unravel you in every way possible, but beggars can’t be choosers and if one kiss was all you’ll get tonight, then you’ll fucking take it.

Joel swallows dryly. “That really what you want?”

His eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to meet your sweet, innocent gaze.

“Yes,” you breathe in reply. “Please. Kiss me.”

He leans in, and there’s brief hesitation on his part and he stops mere centimeters from your face, his nose lightly brushing against yours. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this.” His warm breath fans over your lips; they’re parted, eager to meet his own. “I shouldn’t let this happen. I—I should take you back home to your family before I do somethin’ real stupid.”

Your heart sinks. “That really what you want?” you parrot his own question back to him and hold your breath, knowing there’s a chance his answer could be the answer that you don’t want to hear, the one that could end up crushing you.

Joel lifts his hand, cupping the side of your face in his palm. “‘Course it’s not what I want.” His thumb strokes your cheek, his dark eyes taking in each of your features. He’s studying, memorizing them, as if he’ll never get another chance to be this close to you again. With the line he’s about to cross, you’re both about to cross, that just might be the case.

The tension seeps through your skin and into your bones.

You exhale shakily. “Then just kiss me already.”

He moves his hand and gently curls it around your chin, holding you steady as he leans further in and closes the gap of space in between you. He moves slowly and he’s gentle—too gentle. You want to tell him you’re not made of porcelain, but you’re much too preoccupied with how Joel’s mouth feels, how perfectly it molds against yours. He delicately nips your bottom lip with his teeth. It’s a silent request.

He wants more, more, more. Your lips part for him, granting him the access he’s seeking. Joel doesn’t waste a single moment and he explores every inch of your mouth with his tongue, eliciting a whimper from you. Without breaking contact, he takes your beer and somehow he manages to lean over to set it down on the coffee table without dropping it. He then pushes you back into the couch and the next thing you know, you’re lying on your back and he’s settled in between your legs, using one of his arms to keep himself propped up, while the other wraps itself in your hair. Your own hands clutch at fistfuls of his shirt, fingers gripping the fabric so tight, the skin over your knuckles stretches painfully thin.

You whimper out again, the noise prompting a low growl to rumble through his chest—suddenly, he’s not being so gentle. He isn’t being rough. But he is hungry, he’s possessive, and he’s letting it show in the way he’s swelling your lips with his kisses, how his fingers are gripping the hair at the base of your neck as he firmly tilts your head backwards to give himself better access to your mouth.

Your mind is racing, and yet, you can’t think at all.

It’s not until his hips buck into you and you feel his bulge through his jeans against you that you break away from him. “Joel,” you gasp his out name. You grip his shirt even harder, chest heaving as you try to catch a much needed breath of air. You can feel the arousal pooling between your legs. The flames burning in the fireplace are nothing in comparison to the ones that are burning deep in your belly.

“Fuck,” he curses, pulling back. “M’sorry—”

The last thing you want is for him to be sorry.

“No! Please don’t be sorry,” you rasp, gazing up at him. Your eyes are glazed over with a lust you have never felt for another man before. “I want this, you know I want this—don’t you?”

Joel sighs, brushing a soft kiss to your temple. You wish he could take a peek into your mind, see how badly you want to be wrapped up in his arms—you want to get lost in his embrace, feel him all around you, inside you. You want him to write his name on your bare skin with his tongue, whisper his secrets into the spot where you’re aching for him most.

He sighs again and lightly shakes his head.

“Baby, y’need to think real hard ‘bout this—”

“I want this,” you repeat yourself. “I want you.”

Relaxing the death grip you have on his shirt, your hands release the fabric and move to the buttons. Your fingers tremble slightly as you undo each one of them; after an embarrassing fumble or two, you manage to get them all and push Joel’s shirt off of his shoulders. He sucks in a quick, sharp breath as your greedy hands begin roaming, exploring every inch of smooth, tan skin on his upper body.

Your touch erases all the uncertainty he’s feeling.

“Wanna feel you too, baby.” Joel takes the hem of your sweater and gestures for you to sit up slightly so he can pull it over your head. Carelessly tossing it somewhere behind him, he glances down, blood rushing to his cock as he takes in the sight of your supple curves clad in sweet, delicate white lace. “Christ, you look so fuckin’ soft.”

He doesn’t even realize he’s saying it out loud, not until he catches the flirtatious little grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. You sit up slightly once again and reach behind you to unhook the lingerie and take it off, adding it to the ever growing pile of clothes on the hardwood floor. Licking his lips, he meets your gaze for just a moment before dipping his head down, wrapping them around one of your hardened nipples. “Joel,” you mewl his name as he flicks the pebbled flesh with his tongue.

Joel releases it with a lewd, wet pop and he tosses you a smirk before he moves to the other to give it the same attention. He’s a biter, you find out as he takes it between his teeth, nipping over and over.

Your throbbing center clenches around nothing.

“Joel, please. I need you—I fucking need you.”

He tears away from your nipple. “Where, baby?”

You open your mouth to answer him, but your own gasp cuts you off as he starts trailing his lips down the length of your body until he comes to a stop at the waistband of your skirt. One of his hands finds the zipper on the side and he looks up at you, as if asking for permission. Desperate, you nod. Pulling the zipper down, he slides the skirt, along with the pair of lace white panties you’re wearing off of you and discards them, leaving you completely naked.

Your insecurities begin to trickle in, but Joel’s able to halt them right in their tracks.

“You’re too fuckin’ beautiful, sweetheart,” he says, his reassurance calming your nerves instantly. “So beautiful. So beautiful and so fuckin’ perfect.”

You watch as he makes himself comfortable—well as comfortable as he can—in between your legs. He shoots you a sheepish look.

“Knew I should’a put the damn bed together. But I been puttin’ it off and puttin’ it off all week long.”

You giggle breathlessly. “Who needs a bed?”

Chuckling, Joel feathers a kiss on your inner thigh.

Your smile is all but slapped right off of your face.

“Joel.”

Any traces of humor vanish. You’re both reminded of the next wall that’s about to be broken, the next line that’s about to be crossed.

He looks down and groans. “Such a pretty, perfect little pussy,” he remarks, his voice low, husky. “Bet she’s nice and wet for me, ain’t she baby?” He lifts his hand and drags the tip of his finger up your slit slowly, your slick coating his digit. He smirks up at you. “Oh, she’s fuckin’ soakin’, sweet girl. S’this all for me?”

Foreplay wasn’t in the vocabulary of guys your age and while part of you wishes Joel would hurry, you also find yourself enjoying the fact that he’s taking his time, teasing you—making you really want it to the point where you’re willing to fucking plead him for it. Joel Miller’s the only man you’d ever beg for.

He skims your other thigh with his nose and kisses it just like he’d done with the other. “Tell me darlin’ s’this where you need me? Right here?”

Frantically, you nod your head.

“Words, honey. Gotta use your words for me.”

“Yes!” you choke out. “That’s where I need you. So bad. Need you so fucking bad. Please Daddy—”

You freeze and momentarily, he does too. Truth be told, you wouldn’t really blame him if he just stood up, gathered your clothes and tossed them at you, demanding you put them back on and leave.

Joel raises an eyebrow. “Daddy, huh?”

Your face is on fire. “I—it slipped,” you stammer. “I didn’t mean to call you—I’m so sorry, Joel. I’m not even sure where that came from. I’ve never—”

You’re on the verge of panicking, then notice there is a certain glimmer in his eyes and realize he liked it when you’d called him that. You’re taken aback.

He fucking likes being called Daddy.

“Sweetheart, there ain’t nothin’ to be sorry ‘bout. I promise. You can call me that. But on a condition.”

You stare at him, no idea what the condition could possibly be.

“Ain’t allowed to call anyone else that. Ever.” There is a possessiveness in his tone and it nearly makes you come on the spot. “That understood?”

You nod obediently. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” he prompts.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Good. That’s a real good girl, honey.”

For a split second, you can’t breathe.

This man will surely be the death of you.

Joel plants one final kiss, this one on your mound.

“Please,” you whimper, the heat in your lower belly growing and fizzling out to the rest of your body at the feeling of his breath over your aching core.

“Please what?” he murmurs into the sensitive skin as his arms curl around your legs. “Tell Daddy—tell Daddy what you need baby, so he can take care of you.”

“Your mouth,” you beg him, desperation mounting with each passing second. Your hips buck upward; his biceps flex as he tightens his arms around your thighs, pinning you down in place. “Your mouth—I need your mouth. Please.”

Joel moves his head to the junction of your thighs, his mouth hovering right over where you needed it the most. He looks up at you with hunger, like he’s a ravenous, starved man who hasn’t had a thing to eat in days. “What a good girl,” he praises, dipping his head even lower. His mouth waters at the sight of your glistening folds. “Bet you taste as delicious as you fuckin’ look, don’t you, pretty girl?”

He flattens his tongue and glides it up your slit, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs as he gets his first taste. You gasp out when it grazes your swollen, aroused clit and your head falls back onto the couch. “Oh fuck,” you whine, reaching for his hair. You weave your hands through his graying locks and pull his face closer. Another swipe of his tongue causes your back to arch up off the leather and the edges of your vision to blur.

He pulls an arm from around your legs and drags a finger down your drenched entrance, lips securing themselves around your clit. His gaze stays locked on you as he pushes his long, thick digit into you—you feel him smirk as he curls it upwards, pressing the pad of his finger firmly against the soft spongy spot inside you, making you see stars. Joel slips in a second finger and curls it along with the other to double the pleasure. He begins thrusting his digits in and out of your warm cunt, eliciting what had to be the sweetest sounds that he’d ever heard in his entire life from you. He combines it with with slow, firm, and precise stokes of his tongue on your clit.

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” you encourage him, your loud, breathy moans bouncing off the bare, freshly painted walls of his house. “Yes Daddy, fuck—feels so fucking good, please don’t fucking stop—”

It’s not like you have to tell him what to do.

Joel knows exactly what he’s doing, and he knows it too. He listens to every single one of your moans and feels every single buck of your hips. He is sure to pay extra attention to when your hands pull and tug at his curls; he remembers what combinations of licking, sucking, and fucking make you squeeze your plush thighs tighter around his head; reminds himself of which technique brings your body off of the couch, what makes your toes curl. Joel’s quick to learn your body’s cues, each and every last one. He already knows when to give you more, when to give you less—when he needs speed up, when it is time to slow it all down.

You sing his name over and over again, pressure of an orgasm already building between your hips. His tongue swirls around your sensitive little bundle of nerves as his fingers pump in and out of your cunt and you glance down. You almost choke when you catch a tiny glimpse of the muscles in his forearm, the way they flex underneath his skin with each of his movements as he’s fucking you. Your gaze flits to his face. His own eyes are fixed intently on you.

You’re milliseconds away from release.

“Joel, I’m so fucking close. I’m gonna come—”

His arm squeezes your thigh in encouragement.

One last, broad stroke of Joel’s tongue on your clit sends an overwhelming wave of pleasure crashing over you. Strangled cries tear themselves from the back of your throat as your velvet walls flutter and convulse, squeezing his fingers. Joel, who’s face is still half buried in your pussy, takes it upon himself to help you ride through the high. He peppers soft, delicate kisses onto your swollen clit as his fingers continue to slide in and out of you slowly. He waits patiently until your loud cries dissolve into nothing but breathless little whimpers before he crawls up, positioning himself on top of you, a hand on either side of your head. His beard and mustache glisten with a mixture of saliva and slick—and somehow it it ignites another fire and you’re ready for more, so much more.

“Sweet girl,” Joel murmurs. Leaning down, his lips meet yours and you taste yourself on his tongue

You place a hand on his chest, right over his heart, which beats strong and steady against your palm.

You start dragging your hand down his chest, your fingernails raking over his skin. It travels lower and lower, gliding over the softness of his stomach. He tenses when you brush the waistband of his jeans.

Tearing away from you, he grits out, “Baby. No.”

You immediately snatch your hand away from him.

“You changed your mind?” you question, stomach sinking at the thought of it being over already.

You’re just so fucking greedy for this man.

He offers reassurance—and an explanation.

“No, that ain’t it at all. S’just—” Joel pauses briefly and flushes a shade of red. “S’just that, well, I ain’t got condoms on me, darlin’.”

Relieved, you assure him, “It’s okay. I’m clean.”

“Me too. But that ain’t what I’m worried about,” he admits, his face going from red to maroon.

You smile, finding his embarrassment endearing.

“I’m on birth control.”

Joel clenches his hands into fists. His cock strains against his zipper at the thought of it—taking your cunt bare. “Y’sure you want this?” He rasps out. “I need you to be a hundred percent sure ‘bout it.”

“I’m a thousand percent sure, Joel. I fucking need it. More than anything I’ve ever needed in my life.”

That’s all he needed to hear.

Joel stands up, his gaze never leaving your own as he kicks off his black leather boots. You sit up, and it takes every ounce of strength you have in you to remain composed as he unbuckles his belt, unzips his jeans and pushes them down his legs. You bite down on your bottom lip and try not to stare at his bulge like it’s your first time ever seeing a dick, but if he’s as big as he looks in his boxer briefs, maybe this would end up being a lot more than what your body could handle.

He hooks his thumbs underneath the elastic of his boxer briefs and slides them off, allowing his thick, hard cock to spring free from its confinement.

You swallow harshly. He’s fucking massive.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Joel chuckles at the expression on your face as he kicks aside all of his clothes. His length rests on his lower abdomen and precome smears the skin there. Wrapping one of his hands around it, he gives it a couple strokes, just a hint of relief until you come into play. “Hm?”

Licking your lips, you nod and stand up. You take a couple of wobbling step towards him—Joel’s cock hasn’t been anywhere near you and you’re already fucking walking side to side. “Come here,” you say to him, taking both his hands in your own. You pull him back to the couch and gently guide him down into a sitting position. Swinging your leg over both of his, you straddle his lap. You gingerly place your hands on his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh softly when you feel him brush against your pussy; the contact makes you both moan in unsion. “This okay?” you ask him, breathily. You can’t be sure as to why you’re suddenly feeling a bit shy, like you’re not planning to ride his fucking soul out of him.

“More than okay.” Joel brushes your hair over your shoulder and then drags his hand down the length of your body, committing to his memory every one of your curves. “Gonna be a real good girl and ride my cock, baby?”

You gift him with a cheeky grin. “Yes, Daddy.”

The shyness begins to dissipate and you dive your hand between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock, causing his breath to catch in his throat. You lift yourself slightly off his lap, teasingly gliding the head of his cock down your drenched slit, then up, letting it graze over your clit, which is still senstive to the touch thanks to his lips and tongue.

Joel’s hands find their way around you, running up the curve of your spine. “Wasn’t aware that my girl was such a little fuckin’ tease,” he remarks in a low tone. He slides his hands back down and his large, warm palms cup your ass, fingers kneading flesh.

“Your girl?” you repeat, your heart skipping a beat, stomach fluttering at the idea of being his. “Is that what I am to you, Joel? Your girl?”

“S’that what you want, honey?” Joel whispers, his eyes finding your own, two hopeful gazes meeting in the deepest, most intimate moment that you’ve shared all evening. “Y’wanna be my girl?”

Leaning forward, your reply is preceded by kiss, so soft and so sweet his heart swells inside his chest.

“I do,” you mumble against his lips. “I really do.”

Still gripping your ass, Joel eases you up and lines himself up at your entrance. He bucks his hips and slides the head of his cock past your folds and into your heat. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers, his hands moving to your hips, thumbs grazing your skin. He slowly guides you further down his shaft, grunting as you sink down, taking him inch by inch. “Christ, you’re so goddamn fuckin’ tight—”

The initial stretch is almost too much for you. Your nails sink deeper into his shoulders as he pulls you down further down onto him. “Joel,” you whimper, biting back a loud cry. You’re fully seated, his cock completely sheathed inside you, his head pressing against your cervix. You’re so full of him.

One of his hands abandons your hip and slips over your lower belly.

“This where you’re feelin’ me, pretty girl?” he coos gently. “This where you feel Daddy’s cock? In your belly?”

“Yes,” you sigh out contentedly. “Feels so good.”

You lift yourself off of him, then slide back down in a slow, languid motion.

Joel’s head falls back onto the couch. “Christ.” He mutters the word, his chest heaving. Staring up at the ceiling, he takes a moment to catch his breath and silently wills himself not to explode. Once he’s managed to somewhat compose himself, he looks at you again, pupils blown so wide you can’t find a single trace of brown. “Go on, then,” he rasps. “Go on, sweetheart.”

The living room fills with the sounds of low moans and panting breaths as you move, alternating your maneuvers between rocking and bouncing on him in a frenzied, fast paced rhythm. The friction of his pelvis each time you grind into it winds up the coil between your hips and suddenly you’re desperate, so pathetically desperate for another release.

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” Joel encourages, feeling the beginning of his own climax building quick—much too quick for his liking. “Jus’ like that, honey. What a good girl you are for me, so fuckin’ good for me. Just like I fuckin’ knew you would be.”

“Fuck,” you whine. “You feel so good, Daddy. Feel so fucking good inside me—”

Leaning back, you firmly plant both your hands on his thighs and arch your body, head falling back as you pick up the pace. The burning fire casts a soft, orange glow around you and his jaw falls slack. His eyes drink in every single fucking thing about you, watch you with an adoration that, for the first time in your whole life, makes you feel wanted. Actually wanted.

“Joel,” you whisper his name over and over. You’re both beginning to lose track of where you end and he begins. You can hardly hear the praises that are spilling from his plush lips over the squelching wet sounds of your cunt sliding up and down his cock. There’s no chance to warn him—your mouth parts in a silent scream as you come undone on him.

“M’so fuckin’ close,” Joel grunts. He feels his cock twitch as your pussy grips him like a vice. “Where? Where do you want it, pretty girl?”

“Inside me. Please, I need you to come inside me,” you plead him, the innocent tone of your voice the last thing to push him over the edge he’s teetering on. “Fill me up, Daddy—please, want every drop of you inside me—”

Joel reaches for your arms and yanks you forward, into him. Throwing them around his neck, his own arms wrap around you and roughly slam you down onto him, holding you firmly in place. He bucks his hips upwards, balls tightening, his cock pulsing as he comes. Strings of hissed curse words and deep gutteral groans muffle when he drops his face into your collarbone. Still holding you in place, he spills his load into you, his seed filling you to the brim.

He sags back against the couch and pulls you with him. Wrapping his arms tighter around you, he lets himself stay buried inside of you, the primal in him relishing the heavenly feeling of his come dripping messily out of your pussy and all over his thighs.

“You alright, sweetheart?” he asks after a minute.

“M’perfect,” you mumble against his chest. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re coming down from a high or if it’s because he’s tracing patterns on your shoulder blade with his finger, but you shiver in his arms.

“Let me get the blanket—”

Joel starts to move to get up, but you stop him.

“No, please don’t,” you say, pushing him back. You put all of your weight onto him, as if he can’t move you off to the side if he really wanted to. “I—I want you inside me for a little while longer. Please.”

“But baby, you’re cold—”

You don’t bother explaining to him that you’re not.

“Just hold me. Please.”

And that’s exactly what he does.

Snuggling into him, you close your eyes and Joel’s hand strokes at your hair. Between that, the thrum of his heartbeat against your cheek and the sound of the fireplace crackling behind you, you’re nearly soothed into sleep.

“Joel?”

“Yeah, darlin’?”

“I hate Thanksgiving,” you admit, smiling tiredly to yourself when you feel a laugh rumble in his chest.

“Do you, now?”

You nod. “I do. But I’m really thankful for you.”

Giving you a gentle squeeze, Joel kisses the top of your head and murmurs, “Well, m’thankful for you too, sweet girl.” He pauses momentarily. “I ain’t all too sure how I’m s’pposed to just let you go home. I know I have to but—”

Lifting your head off of his chest, you take the side of his face and cradle it in your palm. You meet his gaze, heart sinking when you see the sadness that has replaced the lust from earlier.

He doesn’t mean home to your parents’ house. He means Chicago.

You graze his beard with your thumb. “I’m coming back in a few weeks,” you remind him, gently. “I’ve only planned to spend a week out here just for the holidays, but I can visit sooner. As soon as the kids go on winter break, I can come back to Austin.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“Of course I would, Joel. I’m not sure how it would work what with my parents and all, though. I don’t want them catching onto us.”

“C’mere.” Joel brushes your lips with his before he makes his promise. “I’ll figure it out, baby. Leave it all to me and I’ll figure it out.”

divider credit to @saradika-graphics 🤎

#asdfghjkl BYE #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller x reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel tlou #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x y/n #joel miller au #dbf joel miller #dbf joel x reader #fic: someone to be thankful for

3K notes · View notes

m0llygunn · 9 months

Text

Eddie's Notes (eddie munson x fem!reader one-shot)

summary: Eddie's a friend you trust... you trust him enough to have your first time with him... and your second.

tropes: virgin!eddie, virgin!reader, friends to lovers, bad at sex eddie but eager to learn (eventually) warnings: 18+! mature language, pet names (baby, pretty/sweet girl), smut, p in v sex, mentions of reader's period, oral (f receiving), virginity loss a/n: a lot of people write eddie as being good in bed (myself included) but I thought it'd be fun to dive into a realm of him being not good (but he is a cutey little dedicated sweetheart once he gets his act together). reblogs and comments are appreciated profusely <3 wc: 10.4k+

“Do you want to do something else?” You ask over the top of Eddie's copy of The Hobbit.

“Not really anything else to do.” Eddie replies, from the other end of his bed, only sparing you a short glance before going back to his guitar.

You’ve been thinking about it for a while and you trust Eddie, you really do.

Saving yourself for marriage is not in the question. Saving yourself for the love of your life doesn’t seem probable. So someone you trust is the best case scenario. And you really trust Eddie.

The best part is you’re pretty sure it’ll be an even playing field with Eddie. In his crude nature, with sex jokes and innuendos, it was hard to decide whether or not he has but you’re almost certain he hasn’t.

Almost certain.

“Are you a virgin?” You ask, words spilling from your lips before you can stop them.

“What?” He laughs. You shrug before realizing that maybe that question is outside of your realm of friendship. Maybe what you actually want to ask him is eons outside of your friendship.

Sure, you’ve been friends with him for a few years now but you’re not the best of friends. Good enough friends to hang out a couple times a month doing nothing beyond enjoying each other's company, but it’s not like you’re best best friends.

“If you don’t want to answer, that’s fine. I guess that was super weird for me to ask, sorry.” You say, going back to hiding your face in his book.

“No— no, not weird at all.” He says with a nervous chuckle.

You give him a moment to answer the question but he doesn’t. When you peek out from behind the book again, his gaze is fixed forward, stuck in a trance of thought.

“Sorry.” You say again.

“No— don’t be.” He shakes his head, blinking away whatever he was thinking. “I’m um, uh— not really?” He says, adding an inflection to his statement like he’s asking you.

“Not really?” You ask, looking for clarification but he just shrugs. You assume the conversation is done but as soon as you go back to the book, he speaks again.

“I… have done stuff. You know, a little rub and tug from the hideout’s finest,” He says, making a crude pumping motion with his fist over his guitar covered crotch. “but… to elaborate, uh— no actual penetration, I guess.”

“Penetration?” You say, laughing softly at his choice of words.

“Yeah… never put it in?” He says again like he’s asking you if it’s an okay answer.

“Fair enough.” You smile, nodding your head.

The both of you sit in silence, Eddie shifting uncomfortably in his spot. You expected him to counter ask your question, but he just sits there, fingers drumming on the body of his guitar.

“Why did you ask me that?” He asks with a genuine curiosity, finally breaking the silence.

“You don’t want to know if I’m a virgin?” You ask, purposefully ignoring his question.

“Are you?”

“Yeah.”

Eddie’s eyebrows rise, hiding beneath his bangs before he comically relaxes himself, putting on an image of indifference. “Oh… me too.” He says coolly.

“So I’ve heard.” You reply, rolling your lips inwards to try and hold back your laugh. You twist in the bed, putting the book down on the floor.

“Why are we talking about this?” He asks quietly, following your lead and setting his guitar down on the bed beside him.

“Do you… want to…” You ask, trailing off, shrugging your shoulders.

“Want to…?” He asks, sitting up straighter.

“You know?” You say, raising your eyebrows hoping he says it so you don’t have to. Faux indifference thrown to the wind, his own eyebrows rise once again, eyes going wide in disbelief.

The silence goes unperturbed until his mouth pulls into a flatline before dropping agape, his eyes narrowing in on you.

“I think you’re gonna have to spell this one out for me, cause I think I know what you mean, but I am not gonna look like an idiot if I’m thinking something entirely different than what you’re thinking.” He rambles, hands working overtime twisting his rings mindlessly.

“Do you not want to?” You ask, your eyes flitting to his nervous habits on full display.

“No I do!” He says a little too loudly, cheeks going red in embarrassment. “But… clarify please cause I really don’t want to be reading this wrong.” He says, flattening his palms on his legs, as he clocks that you’ve noticed his fidgeting.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” You ask as plain as can be. All of Eddie's fidgeting stops immediately. He freezes, his eyes going wide, and you feel your own nerves pick up.

It takes a moment but when he comes back alive, his eyes finding yours. “You’re not joking right?” He asks, his gaze penetrating so deeply it almost becomes too much.

“I’m not joking.”

“Uh— then… yes.” He says calmly.

“Try not to sound so enthusiastic.” You laugh nervously, feeling uncomfortable in the thick tension of the room.

“Shit— I’m sorry. I’m just— it took me by surprise. But I do! Really do, seriously!”

“Okay then.” You smile, feeling your nerves relax. “Do you want to… now?”

He nods his head vigorously before pausing with a look of defeat. “Shit, yeah I do but Wayne was supposed to be helping a friend fix up their car. He might be home in a few hours.”

“A few hours? Is it… is it gonna take that long?” You laugh.

“Probably not.” He says, cheeks flushing dark red. He starts wringing his hands again, his nervous habits becoming more and more prominent by the second.

“Eddie, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, you can tell me if you don’t want to. I won’t be upset, I swear.” You say, sitting up straighter to look at him.

“No— no god no. I mean yes— I do. I want to. I just— fuck, I didn’t think we’d be doing this today.” He says, eyes flickering over the room before meeting you with a sheepish smile.

“Should I take my clothes off?” You ask, toying at the hem of your shirt.

“Oh shit— yeah. Yeah, and I’ll take mine off?” He asks, grabbing at the hem of his own shirt.

“Yeah. I think so.” You smile, pulling your shirt off.

“I’m just gonna— yeah, just gonna move this first.” He says, picking up his guitar and pushing himself up off the bed. When he turns from hanging it up, he stops, eyes flickering over your shirtless body. Trying not to lose your nerve, you quickly unclasp your bra, pulling it down your arms, and dropping it off the side of the bed. Eddie’s unwavering eye contact with your chest makes your skin heat, playing on your nerves, especially since he's stood in the middle of his room not saying anything.

“Eddie.” You say, folding your arms over your chest.

“Right.” He mumbles, jumping into action, pulling his own shirt over his head. He moves quickly to unbutton and unzip his pants and with a deep breath, you shimmy out of your own, pushing them off the edge of the bed.

“Underwear too?” He asks, still standing in the middle of his room.

“I guess.” You laugh.

“Right. Stupid question.” He says, shaking his head. You watch as his hands go to his boxers and within a blink he’s pushing them down until they pool around his feet, his hard length becoming your main focus as it bobs against his lower belly. You take in the sight of him, still standing in the middle of his room, naked. Your eyes linger on his erection until his hands cover it.

“Sorry.” You mumble shyly, shifting on the bed to tug down your own underwear.

“Don’t be sorry.” He says, clearing his throat.

“Are you going to come over here or…” You ask, dropping your underwear to land in the pile of your other discarded clothes.

“Yeah.” He says, swallowing harshly. He steps to the edge of the bed, about to climb on until he stops. “Condom, uh— gimme a minute.” He says, eyes darting around the room. “I have one somewhere, just…” He mumbles as he bounds for his desk.

With his back turned, you let your eyes rake over him. He’s cute, very cute. His nerves are endearing; however, Eddie’s always been brash, you didn’t expect him to be so jittery. In a weird way, you like it, because it’s distracting you from a lot of your own nerves. You trust him, entirely. You’ve never not trusted him.

He opens drawer after drawer scrambling through his belongings until proudly holding up the little silver square.

“Right, good.” You say, trying to sound casual.

“Are you okay, like, do you need anything?” He asks, stumbling his way back to the bed over his messy floor.

“No, I’m good. Just need you, I guess.” You say, motioning down to his crotch, cringing at yourself for saying it like that.

“Right. I’ll… put this on then.” He replies. He settles on the bed beside you, pausing before tearing open the condom package. He pauses again.

“Do you need me to… help?” You offer, hoping you don’t sound as dumb as you think you do.

“Uh, I’m good. I think, just— slide it on there.” Eddie says, rambling as he fumbles with the condom. “Just like… that. There. Okay.” He coaches himself, turning his upper body towards you when it’s finally on.

“Do you wanna…?” You ask, motioning for him to get on top of you.

“Yeah, sure, yeah.” He rambles, pushing himself up. You spread your thighs for him, his hips fitting between your bent knees. His movements are awkward, which you also didn’t expect from Eddie. Normally, he’s clumsy but he’s very forthcoming, very sure of himself. You're used to the way he thrashes through life, kind of like a bull in a china shop, but right now he’s tiptoeing, treading very lightly.

“Should I put my arms here?” He asks leaning forward so a hand rests on the bed next to your head.

“However you’re comfortable.” You say softly, trying to coax some of his nervousness away.

“Let me… just… figure this out.” He rambles again, adjusting his body first with both hands caging you in, then switching back to just one, before leaning back and resting on his knees.

It takes you a minute, but you clue in that every adjustment is centered around the least physical contact between the two of you. “You can touch me, Eddie.” You say, hoping he’ll ease into the moment.

“Right. Yeah of course.” He says, shaking his head. He tentatively lets his hands find your bent knees. His touch is feather light, obviously unsure.

“Should I just…” He asks, looking down between where your bodies almost meet. His eyes linger between your thighs, hands gripping harder on your knees, and it makes your belly flip. A good flip, more like a flutter. You like how his eyes become darker, and his mouth slightly drops. It’s cute. He’s cute.

“I’m ready when you are.” You exhale, trying not to laugh as his eyes glaze over in a dazed look, still focused between your legs.

“I’m ready, so if you’re ready.” He replies mindlessly, still not looking up.

“Eddie, you can put it in.” You laugh softly. His eyes finally flicker to you, catching your smile, and he mirrors it as best as he can, albeit with a blush of pink across his cheeks for being caught staring so long.

“Right… I’ll do that.” He replies. He takes his length in his hand, running his fist up and down once. It’s a casual action, practiced, and you get a glimpse of what Eddie’s really like without the jumbled nerves.

He leans in the slightest bit and you feel the tip of his head prod at your slit, sliding down slowly. He works himself down, parting your slit until he’s resting just at your opening. You think he might start pushing in, but he pauses, keeping himself entirely still.

“Uh— sorry but, this is the hole right?” He asks, cheeks flaring red.

You don’t blame him, there is a lot going on down there and you know he just wants to be sure. He's being careful, asking questions when he’s unsure, he doesn’t want to hurt you, but it still makes your face turn the tiniest bit hotter because of the intimacy you’re not used to.

“That’s the one.” You say awkwardly, moving your own hand down to your center to help guide him.

Before you can even wrap your hand around him, he interrupts you, making you draw your hand back.

“Wait do we— I don’t have lube or anything.” He says, eyes flitting to yours.

“Maybe… spit? That’s what other people use, right?” You offer with a shrug.

“Yeah… I’ll just…” He says before dribbling over you. Missing completely, his glob of spit lands on your lower stomach making you laugh. He looks embarrassed at first, but as he watches you laugh, his lips slowly break into a smile before he eases into his own laughter.

“Why are we being so awkward? We’re friends, this is fine, right?” You say, exhaling, trying to compose yourself from your laughter.

“Yeah, we’re friends… having sex.” He says with a heavy exhale.

“I’m still me and you’re still you, we don’t need to be nervous.” You say, looking into Eddie’s eyes. He nods, taking another deep breath and letting it out and you can feel some of his nerves leave him. He nods again and you smile at him.

“I’m still me, you’re still you.” Eddie echoes. He takes a final deep breath before looking at you, returning a flash of a smile.

You spit in your hand, bringing it to your core, getting yourself wet. You motion for Eddie to come closer and when he does, you wrap your fingers around him enough to line him up with your entrance.

“Okay, so just push in. But slow please.” You guide.

“Slow, got it.” He replies, hips beginning to move towards you.

He takes your words to heart, pushing in extremely slow. So slowly, you aren’t even sure if he’s moving, apart from the noises he’s trying to hold back— and there’s a lot of them, which must mean he’s getting something from this.

You move your hand to his hip, pulling him towards you and he moves a little faster at your guidance. You start to feel a pinch, then it turns into a stretch. He continues pushing in slowly, the stretch turning to a very mild burn.

“Are you almost in?” You ask, squeezing your eyes closed.

“Almost, like another inch, maybe?” He says, hand squeezing your knee.

“Okay— good.” You breathe.

“Are you okay?” He asks, movements stilling.

“Just stings, but keep going.” You say, trying to unclench the muscles you keep tensing by accident. He complies, pushing into you slowly again.

His hips finally press flush against yours and Eddie stills. Looking up at him, you see his mouth working back and forth, eyes glancing over your body like he’s trying not to look too hard or too long at any particular spot. You’re about to tell him that he can touch you again but his mouth opens, sucking in a breath like he’s about to say something.

“You’re really warm. Like… inside.” He says. His voice sounds strangled but you can tell he’s trying to come across as casual. You can’t help but laugh.

This is what you wanted. It’s easy. You feel comfortable enough to laugh. You trust Eddie and despite his nerves, he’s doing a good job.

With your hand on his hip, you keep him still, giving yourself time to adjust, and he complies, taking deep breaths that you subconsciously align your own breathing to.

When the sting relaxes into a dull ache, you take a final deep breath before relaxing your grip on Eddie.

“Okay, you can move, Eddie.” You say, pushing against his hip. He looks up at you long enough to nod, before moving his eyes back down to your center.

He pulls out slowly, just a touch faster than he pushed in and it’s such a foreign feeling to you. It’s on the cusp of being something you might enjoy… but not quite there.

When he pushes back in, it’s a little quicker and you get the same almost pleasure feeling.

“Fuck.” Eddie groans, hands squeezing harshly on your knees.

“It’s okay?” You ask. The tone of his voice catches you off guard. You’ve never heard Eddie sound like that before.

“Y-yeah. You’re really tight.” He says in that same tone. It’s deep, it’s raspy, and he sounds out of breath. It’s hot. Your stomach twirls, and you watch his face as it contorts in pleasure, his bottom lip tucked between his teeth and his brows pinched harshly together.

He looks like he’s really enjoying it, but… apart from seeing him like this, you aren’t.

You shift your hips, trying to find any ounce of pleasure but if anything, it just feels like he’s prodding at you. Not uncomfortable but definitely not pleasurable.

“Eddie, does this… feel good for you?” You ask tentatively. You know the answer, you can tell by the way his breathing has turned into little pants but you figure there must be something you’re missing. You can’t help but feel a pinch of jealousy that it feels that good for him.

“Fuck. Yeah, feels really good.” He groans, his thrusts slowly picking up in pace.

You lay still, watching Eddie thrust in and out of you. The image of him, face contorted in pleasure, and all the breathy little gasps spilling from him makes a hint of heat pool in your lower stomach, but this isn’t at all like you thought how sex would feel.

Maybe your next question comes out a little mean, but his radiating pleasure taunts you. It’s juvenile, but you can’t help but think how it’s not fair.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me if it feels good?” You watch as Eddie’s mouth drops open even further, his chest rising and falling harshly. His eyes squeeze shut and you aren’t even sure if he heard you.

“I’m gonna cum— shit. I’m sorry. I can’t- f-fuck.” He groans, his thrust becoming uneven, stuttering against you.

“Oh.” You say quietly. His thrusts are short and shallow until his movement still, cock pulsing inside you.

And just like that, it’s over.

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie groans, his hold on your knees becoming almost bruising. You feel a little more heat pool in your core seeing Eddie come undone but at this point, you know it’s over.

You continue laying still, watching Eddie’s face slowly unwind, eyes fluttering open. He pulls out, moving his way to lay back beside you on the bed, his breathing still harsh and ragged.

You watch as his head hits the pillow, eyes closing as he sucks in a deep breath, exhaling it harshly. His eyes open again, meeting your gaze.

“That was— holy shit.” He says breathily.

“Yeah?” You ask, trying not to sound disappointed because that most definitely was not ‘holy shit’ to you. Quite frankly… that was just shit. You’re not upset, not in the slightest, just jealous. Envious that it was so easy for him and not you. It’s irrational, and you know you shouldn’t be mad at him, but it doesn’t stop the bud of spite inside of you.

“Did that— sorry. Was that good for you?” He asks, head tilting towards you.

“No.” You say flatly. Your eyes go wide at your answer because you most definitely didn’t mean to say that, it just slipped without thinking.

And as you watch his face fall, every ounce of jealousy, envy, spite, anything you were feeling just seconds ago leaves you entirely, being replaced with regret for that one little word. You shouldn’t have said that.

Eddie was nervous. He was shy. He was tentative. Gentle. Careful. Respectful.

It was endearing. You found him cute.

You wanted it to be with Eddie because you trust him. He did everything you wanted.

It was his first time too.

“Oh” He says, eyes going round with disappointment.

“No! I mean it was fine. You did good Eddie, we’re no longer virgins!” You say excitedly, trying to fix your slip of the tongue. You smile but his face falls flat. You feel your heart pang as he deflates in front of you.

“Yeah… I’m sorry. Maybe— uh… I don’t know. I’m sorry.” He says quietly, hand raising to his face, rubbing aggressively over his mouth and chin. You can tell he’s not buying your cover up and you genuinely feel bad.

“Don’t worry about it, Eddie. It was just the first time. I'm sure it’ll get better?” You say, trying to fix the sad look in his eyes but it only gets worse.

“That bad, huh?” He asks, and his demeanor breaks your heart. You should have kept your mouth shut.

“Don’t feel bad!” You say, sitting up to get a better look at him.

“Fuck— I’m so sorry.” He huffs, hand going back to rubbing over his jaw.

“No, don’t be sorry! It can only go up from here, right!” You try your best to fix your mistake but it’s not working.

“It was that bad.” He groans, hiding his face in his hands.

“Eddie, please don’t feel bad.” You say, moving to be able to fully look at him. “I wanted to lose my virginity to you because I trust you, Eddie. And it was perfect in that sense. You didn’t hurt me at all, and I really, really don’t want you to feel bad.” You say genuinely. You let your hand rest on his arm, trying to pull his hands away from his face.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” He says again, palms pressing harder into his eyes despite you trying to pull them away.

“Eddie. I’m so serious. I wanted it to be with you for a reason. Please, please, don’t feel bad.” You try a final time.

He stays, hands covering his face for a while and you don’t know what else you could say to make it better so instead, you opt for getting dressed. Even when you shift on the bed, he doesn’t move.

It only takes a few minutes for you to be fully dressed. He laid still the whole time, hands pressed to his eyes, and you’re convinced he fell asleep.

“Maybe I should go?” You whisper quietly. His hands fly away from his face, eyes widening. His gaze takes you in, realizing that you’re fully dressed and he sits up quickly.

“You don’t have to.” He rushes out, his wide eyed gaze meeting yours.

“I probably should, right? It’s getting late.”

“Right…” He agrees sitting up. “I can drive you, if you want?”

“It’s nice out, I can walk.” You offer.

“I'll drive you, just give me a minute.” He replies, brushing off your comment.

“Sure.” You say politely, grabbing your bag from the floor.

You wait for him in the living room and it’s only a few minutes before he’s fully dressed. Wordlessly, you both go outside, and get in the van.

After a silent ride, he parks in front of your house.

“Eddie, I’m sorry. I feel like I ruined your first time.” You say.

“Shit. You have nothing to feel sorry about. I’m the only one who should be sorry.” He says, huffing an almost laugh.

“Don’t be sorry. Eddie, I told you already. I trust you and because of that it was a great first time.”

Eddie shrugs, not accepting your sentiment.

“I’ll see you?” You ask quietly.

“Yeah, see you.” He nods.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

It's been just over a week since you and Eddie slept together. A week of radio silence. Sure, it’s not like you two hung out everyday before, but you thought that, maybe, that might be different after you slept together. But nope.

You waited a while to call, trying to give him space since that night didn't exactly end as you hoped. While you waited, you hoped he would call, but he didn’t.

Eventually, you ended up calling, but you got his uncle, who said Eddie’s been busy the last few days and he hasn’t seen him much. Later that night, Eddie called, but your mom answered since you were staying at a friend's house. You called again yesterday, Eddie wasn’t home. You had expected him to call that night but he didn’t. And you’ve been thinking about it all day since it’s summer vacation, your parents aren’t home, and you just have a lot of time.

When there's a knock at the door you fully expected it to be a salesman or jehovah witness, but you were surprised to see Eddie. You didn't even have a chance to speak before his hand was on the door, pushing it open as wide as it could go.

“I want to try again.” He says, a slight breathiness to his voice as if he just rushed his way over here.

“What?” You ask confusedly.

“I want to try again.” He says a little louder before shrinking a little. “If you’ll let me, I mean. Only if it’s okay with you.”

“You… want to try again?” You ask, finally clueing in to what he’s talking about.

“Yeah. I feel fucking bad that I came—” He stops himself, turning around, looking to the street. “Can I explain inside?” He says, wincing slightly.

You usher him inside, spotting your neighbor on their porch and you pray to god they didn’t hear Eddie and if they did, they remain oblivious to what he was getting at.

As soon as the door is shut, Eddie’s speaking again.

“I meant to start with an apology.” He says, voice softer and less breathless.

“Eddie, I really don’t want to hear you apologize again. It was fine.”

“It wasn’t.” He states, raising his brows. He relaxes into sincerity, meeting your gaze. “I want to apologize for what happened after.” He says, pausing for any objections from you. You let him continue. “You were being really nice about it and I… I was being selfish. You already didn’t enjoy yourself, and then I made it your job to make me feel better about it. That was really shitty of me.”

“I felt bad, you know. It was your first time too.” You shrug.

“But you shouldn’t have had to coddle me like that. It wasn’t fair to you. I’m sorry.” He says softly. You can tell he’s genuinely sorry for it and you really do appreciate it. You nod, and he rolls his lips inwards, nodding back.

“Thank you.” You say. He nods again.

The room stills, the both of you in silence. You can tell Eddie wants to keep talking.

“So… outside you were saying?” You lead, prompting him. He catches your eye, smiling appreciatively for you being the one to break the silence.

“I was saying outside that I feel terrible that I came so quickly and it wasn’t good for you and I want to try again.. if you’ll let me.” He blunders out.

You raise your brows. This is more like the Eddie you know. Straight forward, to the point.

“I um— I don’t know what to say.” You laugh softly. You do feel a hint of apprehension. You’ve already accepted that the sex was bad but the part that really got you was what happened after. Not his sulking, but after you left. The not talking part. That was the last thing you wanted to come from this.

Despite your feelings, you can’t help but light up a bit at Eddie’s enthusiasm. His eyes are wild with it.

“You don’t have to say yes. But I did a fuck ton of research and look—” he says pulling out a folded piece of lined paper from his back pocket, starting to uncrumple it. “I took notes and everything. I want to do it right, so if you’ll let me…”

“You took… notes?” You ask amusedly. He holds the paper out to you and you cautiously take it.

“Yeah. I’m dedicated to this. I told you, I feel fucking terrible. I should have listened more, asked you questions, done so many things differently. So I just— I don’t know.” He says shrugging, hands wringing themselves.

You glance down at the paper to see his scribbled writing covering every inch of the paper. Your eyes gravitate to a very technical diagram of a vagina that he drew out.

“I don’t want to look at this.” You laugh, shoving the paper back to Eddie.

“Shit, sorry.” He laughs nervously. He goes pink in the face. Not exactly out of nerves like before, but more so flustered. It’s cute.

You can’t help but bite.

“So… what exactly did research entail?” You ask, holding back your smile.

“I went to the library first. Looked at some books there. Read some magazines… asked a few people.”

“People?” You question worriedly.

“No— no don’t worry! I didn’t tell them it was you or anything. It was mostly just books and magazines that I read, I swear. I just wanted to make sure some things were actually true.”

“And… you really want to do this?” You ask. You're intrigued and his effort is very endearing. You did say that it could only get better…

“Yes! But only if you’re comfortable with it. Doing it once was generous— so if you say no, I understand.”

“Generous?” You laugh.

“Yeah. Like, that was a cool thing to do, you know?” He shrugs, cheeks flaring.

“Cool?” You laugh again.

“Yeah.” He replies, cracking a smile.

Your eyes gravitate to the sheet of paper in his hand. You don’t really have anything to lose, right? You’ve done it before and if he really is dedicated to this like he says he is… might as well give it a shot?

“Yes.” You say firmly, your mind made up.

“Yes?”

“Let's try again.” You exhale.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t do any research but… if you’re okay with that, my answer’s yes.”

Eddie perks up, eyes becoming filled with excitement. He looks at his sheet of notes for a moment before his gaze finds yours again.

“Do you have a calendar?” He asks plainly.

“A calendar, Eddie? What?” You ask, feeling confused all over again.

“I just… yeah. Just like a regular calendar.” He shrugs.

“In my room.” You lead him upstairs, pulling the calendar down from your wall and handing it over.

“Okay, thank you. And when was your last period?” He asks, laying the calendar down flat on your desk, fingers drumming over the dates.

“My last period, Eddie, what the fuck?” You laugh.

“No, seriously. If you’re ovulating it’s supposed to be better, so last period was…?” He says, fingers gliding over the calendar.

“Like two— three-ish weeks ago?” You say, pointing at the general days on the calendar.

“Okay, okay. Just gimme a minute.” He says, flattening his notes down on the surface next to the calendar. “Alright, so if this was the first day of your period, then you should be ovulating? Or almost ovulating?” He says, fingers sliding along the weeks, counting quietly under his breath.

“Eddie, it sounds like you’re trying to get me pregnant.” You laugh nervously.

“No! No, I swear to god, no! I just- I read that it’s supposed to feel better for you during that week, so, like, now would be a really good time for me to… you know, try to make you feel good.” He says, eyes going wide as he turns towards you, looking the slightest bit mortified.

“Oh…” you respond, brows raised as you try not to laugh in his face. It’s endearing it really is, but… this boy is so odd. “Alright then.” You nod, your lips tugging into a smile.

“Yeah. So I can check that off.” He says, grabbing a pencil from your desk and physically checking off one of his notes. “So next, is foreplay.”

“Foreplay?” You parrot, laughing in disbelief.

“Yeah. I think that’s where I really fucked up last time. I mean, I didn’t even kiss you, for christ sake. And I didn’t touch you at all before, so yeah. Foreplay.” He says, exhaling harshly.

“You want to kiss me?” You ask nervously. Your heart picks up as your gaze flickers to his lips.

“I mean, yeah.” He says, going shy. “But I didn’t know if you would have wanted me to cause we’re not… you know, together.” He shrugs his shoulders.

“You could have kissed me.” You smile at him, your stomach going fluttery at the thought.

“Really?” He asks in disbelief.

“Yeah.” You affirm, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Cool.” He nods slowly, smiling.

“So.. are you going to?” You ask, sheepishly. He meets your gaze, eyes slowly lowering to your lips. He nods his head, stepping closer to you.

When your eyes flutter closed, you feel his lips press against yours, soft as a feather.

He pulls away and you almost think it’s over until he pulls you back in, hands on your waist, bringing you closer to him. His lips meet yours again and it’s entirely different from the first. His lips work against yours and it leaves you dazed, struggling to keep up with the unexpected, but it’s perfect.

His hands still on your waist, he guides you to lean against your desk, his body pulled flush to yours. His hands rub up and down your sides slowly, adding to your fluttery dizziness.

The kiss deepens, his tongue licking along your lower lip and you part your mouth. He’s gentle with you, tongue imploringly licking into your mouth, almost as if he’s testingly seeing what you like best. It gives you butterflies, something you’ve tried to not dwell on getting from Eddie in the past.

His hand trails up your waist, taking purchase on your jaw, guiding your mouth against his until his kisses slow, his lips meeting the edge of your mouth before trailing down the side of your face.

You swallow harshly before speaking. “That was really good.” You say, clearing your voice. You practically feel Eddie’s lips turn up in a smile against your jaw.

“Yeah?” He asks breathily against your skin.

“Yeah. I think your research is working so far.” You say, squeezing your eyes shut as his kisses trail down your neck.

You open your eyes when the kisses stop and you feel him pull away.

“Yeah?” He asks excitedly, making eye contact with you. His gaze is a combination of shock, disbelief, and amusement and it’s adorable. It pulls on all of your heart strings at once.

The attentiveness, effort, the everything from right now mixes with everything from before. Gentle, careful, respectful, you trust him. You trust him and you think he’s cute, endearing, adorable, and you want him.

“Keep going.” You say, your own voice going breathy.

“Right.” He mumbles, face pressing against your neck again.

You bring your hand to the back of his head, fingers entwining in his hair. As soon as you do, you feel a nip of teeth that makes you gasp. He cleverly soothes the area with his tongue after, making a whimper rise in your throat that surprises you when it falls from your lips.

“Eddie, who’d you get that from?” You whisper curiously, voice sounding pathetically whimpery.

“Dunno, s’just something I picked up.” He replies, pulling away enough for his breath to fan over your damp skin, giving you shivers.

He nips again, chasing it with a harsh suck that makes your head spin. You can’t help but feel like he’s showing off now but you don’t care, you let him. He has you at a place where you’re his for the bending, malleable in his hands.

“W-what’s next on your list?” You stutter through his kisses.

“Not done with this yet.” He says, voice gravelly and low. You nod your head, not bothering to try to speak again.

His kisses work lower and lower until they meet the neckline of your shirt. You feel his fingers on your hip playing with the hem of your shirt, tugging and lifting it just enough to get your attention. You nod again, wanting it off.

“Eddie.” You whine, pushing your chest against his when he doesn’t do it right away.

He pulls away from you again, and when he looks at you, he looks surprised.

“What?” You question, feeling embarrassed.

“N-no! Nothing, that was just.. really hot. Wasn’t expecting that s’all.” He stutters, both hands now on your waist, rubbing up and down.

You feel your face burn, feeling shy all of a sudden. You know he picks it up because his eyes focus on you, pausing everything.

“D’you want me to keep going?” He asks, and you nod your head.

“Want you to take my shirt off.” You whisper.

“Yeah?” He laughs.

“Eddie.” You whine, feeling embarrassed at how much he’s affecting you.

“C’mon let’s get your shirt off, pretty girl.” He coos and you feel your stomach flutter. His hands lower to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and you raise your arms cooperatively.

“You think I’m pretty?” You ask just as the shirt pulls over your head.

“Hell yeah. I think you’re beautiful.” He says, stopping to look into your eyes as he says it. You lower your gaze, fixing it on your shirt in Eddie’s hands.

“Which is another thing I fucked up last time, by the way.” He adds, dipping his face to meet your gaze.

“Hm?” You hum, head spinning too fast to keep up.

“Last time. I didn’t tell you how fucking beautiful you are.” He says. His eyes flutter over your face, hand moving to tuck your hair behind your ear. “I didn’t know if you wanted me to, so I didn’t. But believe me, I thought about it.” He says, dipping his face down to press a chaste kiss to your shoulder.

“Eddie.” You reply not knowing what else to say. Your heart beats faster and it’s all consuming, adding sweet to your ever growing list of things you like about Eddie. He’s always been sweet, but this feels bigger, and it makes your heart squeeze.

“Want me to take this off?” He asks, fingertips sliding under the strap of your bra.

“Please.” You whisper, using all the air left in your lungs to muster the single plea.

His fingers trail behind your back, tickling you along the way until they reach the clasp, unfastening it hook by hook, letting it fall to the floor.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. So perfect. Wish I had said it the first time.” He says lowly, between kisses on your shoulders.

You hum, both because you don’t know what else to say and also because you are so fully absorbed by Eddie. You watch him as his kisses get lower on your collarbones

“S’this okay?” He asks, kisses stopping before reaching your chest.

“Uh-huh.” You breathe. Your hands move the back of his head again, tugging him lower until his kisses meet your chest. His hands rise tentatively until they press against the roundness of your breasts. Another moan falls from your lips and that spurs him on enough to more confidently massaging you, adding kisses to the mix.

“C-can we lay down.” You stutter, trying to catch your breath.

“Anything you want, pretty girl.” He replies, continuing his kisses. He guides you, taking steps backwards to the bed, turning you so the backs of your knees hit the mattress.

You lay down and he follows, hovering over you more comfortably than last time.

You close your eyes, absorbing the weight of Eddie on top of you, and you feel hot everywhere. It’s completely contradictory to last time and he still has every piece of clothing on. Before you can even think of asking him to take off his clothes, you're startled by the wet, hot feeling of his mouth on your nipple.

“Eddie.” You moan. Embarrassment isn’t a feeling you can harbor anymore, Eddie has you so entranced. Your chest rises and falls harshly, panting as his tongue swirls around your sensitive nipple. You feel like your skin’s prickling and your heads empty, the only thing that exists right now is you and Eddie.

He switches, paying the same attention to your other breast and you spread your legs further, letting Eddie fall closer to you, hips pressing against yours.

“Want clothes off.” You whimper, his teeth grazing before sucking harshly on the delicate skin.

“Mine or yours.” He mumbles, words vibrating against your chest and you’re sure you’re covered in goosebumps.

“Both, Eddie.” You moan.

He makes quick work of pulling his shirt over his head. His hands go to the button of your shorts, stopping to look at you first.

“I want to try something first, if that’s okay?” He says, dipping down to meet your gaze.

“Eddie.” You whine, not caring the slightest, you can only think of wanting your clothes off.

“I can take these off?”

“Take them off.” You reply, getting impatient. He watches you, and he still looks surprised. You bring your own hands down, and it sets him in motion, popping the button open and pulling them down your legs.

“Baby, you’re doing okay?” He asks, as he tosses your shorts to the side.

“M’doin’ good Eddie, keep going please.” You breathe, squirming on the mattress.

“Fuck, okay.” He replies, voice gravely again. He tugs your underwear down, tossing them to the floor and begins shifting backwards on the bed. It surprises you, pulling you out of your spinning daze as he disappears between your legs.

“Eddie, what are you doing?” You ask, sitting up slightly.

“M’gonna eat you out. That okay?” He asks, lifting his head to look back at you. You’re obviously familiar with the term, but you’ve never had anyone do it to you before, making his actions unexpected. You don’t know what you thought he was gonna do, but it wasn’t that.

You lay back down on the mattress, exhaling deeply.

“Hey? Is it okay? I don’t have to.” He says softly, getting your attention. His hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers.

“You can.” You reply nervously. He squeezes your hand.

“We can stop anytime, okay?” He says, eyes searching yours and making it clear that he means it.

Trust is starting to seem more like an understatement. All of the good things you like about Eddie, you’ve always liked about him. Maybe it’s the way your head is spinning or maybe it’s just how Eddie’s always been, but you get a burning feeling for him. Not a desire or a neediness born from the heat of the moment, but like an adoration, like a particular thump of your heart exists just for him.

“Okay” you reply, nodding your head.

Still holding your hand, he lowers himself again. His breath reaches your cunt and you feel shivers erupt up and down your spine, excitement blooming in your belly.

“Just gonna ask you one thing, okay? Need your help a little, just tell me what you like, gotta tell me what feels good, okay?” He says softly, popping up once again to look at you.

You nod, squeezing his hand, and he lowers his head again.

Your whole body jerks as you feel his tongue lick up your core. It’s wet and hot and something you’ve never felt before.

“Holy shit.” You gasp, squeezing his hand again.

“Good or bad?” He asks from between your legs.

“Do it again.”

He does it again and it’s good. Definitely good.

“Good, Eddie. Really good.” You reply breathily. He squeezes your hand in acknowledgement before his tongue is on you again. The warm heat of his breath and his tongue meet your slit, licking up, parting your folds and catching on your clit, making you jolt again.

When his thumb on the back of your hand starts running back and forth on your skin soothingly, you melt entirely. Relaxing into everything.

His tongue explores your cunt, lapping up and down before he focuses on your clit, making you gasp. It feels like the almost pleasure you got last time but a million times better. It’s actual pleasure this time, not almost. It tingles all the way up into your belly and you can’t help the way your breathing turns into soft moans.

His tongue swirls around your clit and your mouth drops as your mind reels at the feeling.

“F-fuck.” You gasp when he switches to sucking, making your hips buck against him. “S’really good, Eddie.” You moan.

“You’re so wet this time, baby.” He groans, the vibrations of his words against you making you whimper. The tingles traveling to your belly start to tense, making your breathing turn into quick pants. You want to tell Eddie he’s doing a good job but you can’t get the words out through your gasps, so instead you find purchase on the back of his head with your free hand, tangling your fingers in his hair, hoping he’ll understand.

He switches between lapping at you, flicking his tongue, and sucking your clit. The wet sounds of his mouth against your cunt filling the room, adding to the way your body’s growing impossibly hot, stomach tightening into a tight knot.

When you feel his fingers at your entrance, you gasp. He squeezes your hand and you squeeze back.

He pushes in one finger first, it’s similar to the prodding from before but much better with his mouth working against you.

He works his finger in and out of you before slipping a second in and the slight stretch that comes with it leaves you reeling. You think that feeling alone is fantastic until he curves his fingers upwards into an almost hook shape.

Prodding turns into straight pleasure as he wiggles his fingers in and out, hitting a place inside of you that leaves you gasping for air.

“Eddie. G-good.” You moan, your stomach tensing harshly. You feel your thighs start to shake as moans, gasps, and whines leave your mouth unwillingly.

“You're getting really tight.” He hums, lips barely leaving your clit. All you can do is whimper as the vibrations of his voice push you further and further into pleasure. “Baby, you gonna cum?” He hums again.

You nod your head ferociously not being able to produce words.

“That’s it, cum for me, baby.” He groans between flicks of his tongue. His words travel straight to your stomach adding to the pulsing knot.

Your hips buck insenstantly and you feel like you’ve lost total control of your body. All that you can feel is pleasure rippling through you like waves, hitting an all time high, and you break. You cum, harder than ever before. You’ve tried on your own before and it’s barely been worth noting, but this.. this is earth shattering.

You feel weightless, floating, all of the tension leaving your body. It’s magnificent, perfect, it feels like you’re in a dream. The only thing that tethers you to reality, is Eddie’s hand in yours and the way his thumb gently pushes into the back of your hand.

You feel yourself settling down from your high, but as Eddie’s mouth keeps working against you, you feel the edges of your vision go dark. Your body fights with prolonging and pushing away the pleasure as it takes you whole.

“E-Eddie.” You choke out, squeezing his hand. Your hips buck, and he understands, slowing down.

Sucking in a deep breath, you squeeze his hand again and his motions come to a slow halt.

You are astounded.

Absolutely astounded.

You have no words.

You tug him by the hand, you need him closer.

“You okay?” He whispers, as he moves up by your side. You pull him by the hand, willing him to hold you as you turn on your side. He complies, giving you everything you need.

You take steady breaths that help you settle back into your body. It could be seconds, could be minutes, could be hours that pass, but eventually you catch your breath, finally grasping the moment.

“Holy shit.” You exhale. Holding onto Eddie’s arm wrapped around your stomach.

“Was it good?” He asks nervously. You lean back, turning to lay flat on your back so you can see him.

“Was it good? Eddie, holy shit.” You say, widening your eyes as you take in his nervous features and flushing cheeks. Your eyes trail down to his slick coated face. His lips slowly curl into a smile and fuck, you finally understand how he felt after the first time.

“It worked?” He laughs.

You take his face in your hands and you kiss him hard. Yeah, it fucking worked, holy shit.

His tongue licks into your mouth immediately, his slick coated lips giving you a taste of yourself. Keeping your hands on his cheeks, you continue kissing him, tongues working in sync until you can’t keep up.

He kisses you breathless. When your head goes dizzy, all you can focus on is the reemerging pulse between your legs.

Lowering your hands to his hips, you guide him on top of you. He tries to lift himself, hovering not to put all his weight on you but you need it, so you pull him until he rests flush against your body.

Your hands explore up his chest, wrapping around his sides until you take purchase on his back, pulling him as close to you as you can.

Through his clothes, you feel his hardened length resting against you, and you roll your hips up looking for relief, making Eddie gasp into your mouth.

You do it again and his mouth stops moving against yours, feeding a whimper right into your lungs.

“Clothes.” You pull away just enough to whisper, grinding your hips upwards against him.

Eddie’s lips still against yours, he’s resolved into quickened breaths in and out, breathing into your mouth.

“Want you Eddie.” You whine, not getting enough relief from your grinding.

“Clothes.” He echoes mindlessly, swallowing harshly. He doesn’t move, so you take to moving your hands down, folding your fingers under his belt, blindly searching for an edge to pull at.

“Take them off.” You say a little louder.

“Right. Clothes.” He says, finally snapping out of whatever transfixion he was stuck in.

He pulls away, and you miss the feeling of his chest against yours immediately. You watch as he undoes his belt and pants, pushing both his jeans and boxers down his thighs, struggling to get them off. Eventually, he takes to standing, nearly falling off the edge of your bed, making you giggle. When he finally has them off, he’s quick to resume his position overtop of you.

“I’m getting ahead of myself. Need to make sure you’re doing good.” He says, blinking back the glazed over look in his eyes.

“I’m doing so good, Eddie.” You purr, hands trailing up the expanse of his back.

“Everything feels good? Do you need me to do anything else?” He brings a hand to the edge of your face, pushing your hair back, making your heart flutter and core ache at the same time.

“Want you inside.” You whisper.

“I can do that.” He laughs breathily. He reaches down to the floor, his body weight laying on top of you as he reaches for his discarded pants. After a bit of fumbling, he sits up again, condom in hand. His hands slip on the packaging until he grows frustrated, ripping the corner of the foil open with his teeth. You feel heat pool in your core at the sight, wanting him more than you’ve ever wanted anything.

“Eddie, you’re so pretty.” You say breathily, his eyes flicker up to you from his focus as he rolls the condom down his length. You see pink raise on his cheeks as his lips turn up at the corners.

“You think so?”

“Know so. So beautiful and cute and adorable and hot and I want you.” You ramble, feeling absolutely drunk off of how insanely fast he has your head spinning with lust. You want him in a lot of different ways, every way. You raise your hands to his shoulders tugging him closer.

“My pretty girl.” He whispers, dipping his face down to kiss you.

“Yours.” You mumble against his lips right before they meet yours. It rolls off your tongue naturally and it feels right. You’re his. Entirely enraptured by him, entirely swept up by him.

You can pinpoint the exact moment he processes what you said. He had started kissing you hungrily, then it was like it hit him. His mouth stopped moving against yours, and when you slid a hand up to hold his jawline, his mouth started to move again, but differently.

The kiss turned sweet, gentle, tender. It turned meaningful and slow, like every touch of his lips against yours and every caress of his tongue had purpose. You indulge yourself in the change of pace until you can't anymore.

“Eddie, please.”

“I got you, sweet girl.” He whispers.

The sunsetting leaves the two of you in the low golden glow. Eddie’s face illuminates with the light bleeding in through your sheer curtains and your heart beats a little faster as you watch him lean back, his cock in his hand, rubbing his fist up and down his length once before lining it up with your entrance.

The confidence he holds now, compared to last time, makes you swallow thickly. Last time it was cute and endearing, this time, he works you into pleasure and it leaves you reeling for more. This time he says you’re his, and you agree. You always have been in a way. Trust was a disguise, trust was a front. You like Eddie. You always have.

“Ready, pretty girl?” He asks, voice low as he stares into your eyes. You feel his head at your entrance and you clench in anticipation.

“Ready.” You chorus, relaxing yourself. It’s literal in the way you relax your muscles, but it’s also metaphorical in the way you open yourself up entirely for him. This isn’t your first time, but it’s the time that matters. It’s the time where he is completely himself and you are completely yourself. It’s everything you wanted and more— more that you didn’t realize you needed until now.

He pushes in and you both sigh in tandem. Your sighs mature into moans as he slowly pushes in, fully bottoming out inside of you.

“Does it hurt?” He asks, voice quiet and carefilled.

“Not like last time.” You answer.

“Sorry, baby.” He whispers, dipping his face to yours, pressing a kiss to your lips. “Sorry it hurt last time and I didn’t even kiss it better.” He continues, pressing another gentle kiss to your lips.

“S’okay, Eddie. You’re doing so good now, feels so good.” You reply, voice just as quiet as his. You pull his face down, pressing your own tender kiss to his lips before trailing your hands down the front of his chest, rounding them to hold his sides.

He shifts his hips, withdrawing from you slowly. You guide him with your hands, willing him to keep going, and he does.

“S’feel okay?” Eddie says through a strangled breath.

“Feels good.” You breathe.

“You sure? We can put a pillow under—” he starts to explain, slowing his already slow motions.

“Want you to go faster.” You interrupt.

“Faster.” He echoes, almost like he’s coaching himself. You hum as he complies, drawing his hips and pushing them back into you at a quicker pace.

Him filling you up and stretching you out felt entirely different this time, way better, and it has you absolutely dizzy. It’s not prodding this time, it’s more like a roll that leaves you breathless, panting just to fill your lungs. His cock grazes your sweet spot with every pump into you and with every other thrust, his hips meet yours completely, teasing your clit with their contact.

“Harder.” You whisper, and he complies silently apart from the way he harshly sucks in a breath.

His hips begin snapping against yours, the slap of skin on skin echoing in your room mixing with the obscene, wet noises of his cock pushing in and out of you, complimenting the breathy moans and whimpers coming from both of your mouths. Each thrust hits your clit, making you shudder, hips jolting and stuttering with your pleasure.

You feel your insides start to tense and you know you’re close. His thrusts start to falter as his breathing turns ragged.

“So close Eddie, please.” You whine. He breaths a whimper, hips picking up again, returning to his quick, hard pace.

“Cum for me, baby. Need you to cum for me.” He says breathily, voice pitching up. His hand reaches down past your belly, fingers finding your clit, rubbing it and it sends your hips into a spasm of stutters.

“Eddie.” You cry. You feel your body go rigid before your pleasure explodes, freeing you from the reigns of tension and pushing you into pure ecstasy.

Eddie only musters a few more thrusts with the way your cunt clamps down onto his cock, fluttering and pulsing all around him as your orgasm takes you over. Strangled whimpers pull from his lungs as he prolongs your pleasure until he breaks alongside you.

“F-fuck. Shit. I’m c-cumming.” He grunts, cock twitching inside you as his balls press firmly against your ass. His hips stutter, shallow thrusts pushing in and out, the warmth of his cum filling the condom. With your half lidded eyes, you watch Eddie— his face contorting in pleasure, and you enjoy the moment, committing it to memory.

Eddie stills completely apart from his heavy breathing that matches yours. He surprises you when he rolls onto his back, taking you with him, pulling you over his chest, his cock still firmly pressed inside of you.

“Eddie.” You laugh breathily.

“J-just need to feel you for another minute.” He replies hazily, eyes squeezed shut. His hands wrap around your back, hugging you closely and you relax into him tentatively. His hands pull you down again, and you have no choice but to put all of your weight on him.

When your combined panting resolves to steady breathing, he breaks the silence. “Was that better?” He asks, pushing his head back into the pillow to look at you.

“That was… better than better. Way, way, way better.” You say whimsily. It was perfect, it was everything, you don’t have any words.

“Yeah?”

“That was like… I don’t even know. I can’t even describe it, just so so good. Really.” You say in awe, reflecting on what just happened.

“You can tell me the truth.”

“Eddie.” You say warningly, lifting your head to really look at him. “If you studied like that for all your classes you’d be valedictorian. A++, honestly Eddie.” You say.

“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” He asks, still sounding unsure.

“You should frame those notes you wrote, hang them up like a diploma in your room.”

“Okay, now you’re just teasing me.” He laughs, turning his head away from you to hide his smile.

“No! And you wanna know how serious I’m being right now?” You say, reaching up and taking one of his curls, swirling it around your finger, grabbing his attention.

“How?” He asks, turning back to you.

“Because I’m already thinking about doing it again.” You whisper. You watch Eddie as his smile grows.

“Really?” He asks, eyes beaming.

“Yes.” You nod, pressing your lips together as your smile grows.

You watch Eddie as a whirlwind of emotions take over his face, it’s disbelief, happiness, excitement, a few you can’t parse, before it settles into nervousness. It makes your belly knot in nerves immediately.

“Last time… I was— after, I was so upset because…” He starts, eyes fluttering over your face, avoiding your gaze. He takes a breath before continuing. “I was so upset because I wanted to ask you out, and then after the sex was bad, I kind of figured you’d never go out with me.”

“You wanted to ask me out?” You say, pushing yourself up with your arms to see his full face.

His eyes flood with worry, and you reach down, pushing his damp bangs from his forehead. He finally looks at you and all you can do is smile. His nerves settle the slightest bit as he relaxes into his own sheepish smile.

“I would still like to, if that’s okay with you?” He asks, shyly.

“It’s really okay with me.” You reply.

“Maybe I can ask when I’m not still inside you?” He laughs softly, eyes flickering to your lips. “Not that I don’t think this is romantic, but…” he trails off when you start laughing, watching you closely as you do, dimples set deeply in his cheeks.

You nod your head before lowering your face to his. He meets you halfways, pressing his mouth to yours, kissing you sweetly.

“My pretty girl.” He whispers as he pulls away.

“Yours.” You whisper back, smiling.

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

After a few more moments of you resting on top of Eddie, the two of you begin to shift, slowly separating from one another. Lazily cleaning yourselves up, trading discarded clothes as you pick them up from the floor, it’s a good memory, one you want to keep forever.

The sun now tucked beneath the skyline, your room glows in the low light form your lamp, Eddie’s heartbeat serving as the background music to this moment. You settle deeper into his chest, and he hugs you tighter.

It wasn’t the first time, but it was the time that mattered the most.

As far as silent moments go, there’s not many with Eddie. He breaks the quiet of the room, shifting to look at you.

“I think I might want to be a vagina doctor, I know so much shit about vaginas now.” He says, completely serious. You choke on a laugh, surprised by his comment.

“Really?”

“No.” He says, tilting his face so you can see his smile. “Just know a lot now.” He laughs.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #virgin!eddie #best friend!eddie

6K notes · View notes

seokgyuu · 3 months

Text

What could be worse than a valentine’s day alone? Exactly, a valentine’s day spent with your academic rival, Jeon Wonwoo, stuck in the home eco’s kitchen because you were both sentenced to take over the cookie baking for this season’s day of love.

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader

genre: academic rivals to lovers, smut, heart wrenching and tooth rotting fluff (wonwoo is down bad bad)

warnings: sexual content, smut warnings under cut! wonwoo is a little bit mean? but like not too mean? she’s also kinda mean. but they are in love! promise.

word count: 5k

a/n: hi everyone!! this is part of the cupids collab hosted by the wonderful @wongyuseokie for @svthub! this work is dedicated to the wonderful, the lovely, the hilarious @highvern! i hope you like it, babes!! sending you loads of love this valentine's day and thousands of kisses, mwah! i had loads of fun writing this and am happy to be a part of this collab, hehe. also thank you @ourdawnishotterthanourday for betaing, ily! <3

“I’m giving you one chance to get out of here,” you say, holding open the door. Wonwoo doesn’t move. “Who says I’m the one who has to go? You’re obviously the worse baker.” Oh, he is truly playing with you right now. You let the door fall shut, eyes squeezed as you stare at him. “Fine. Then it’ll be me and you, buddy.” “I guess so,” he pauses, eyebrow raising, “and I’m not your buddy.”

smut warnings: minimal degradation (usage of the word “slut”), praising, pet names (princess, sweetheart, darling, pretty girl) oral (f. receiving), begging, softdom!wonwoo, unprotected sex (you know the drill - wrap it before you tap it, folks!), creampie (get it… cream…pie? cookies & cre- ok i’m sorry).

There are approximately seven thousand three hundred and twenty eight places you would rather be than here.

Nothing has helped you get out of this unfortunate situation. No pleading, no begging, not even wanting to send Seungkwan in your stead. Professor Yoon had been adamant in his decision to send you and him to this god forsaken home eco kitchen to bake the badge of cookies for the Valentine’s day sale.

“It’s not even a real holiday!” you had whined to Seungkwan, “if it were, we wouldn’t even be at class in the first place!”

All your best friend did was rub your back and tell you it was all gonna be fine, all while writing a text to Vernon on his phone in his other hand. He was used to your antics when it came to Jeon Wonwoo. Everyone was, at this point. Both of you had not made it hard to get used to - just by the amount of times you had decided to fight and dive right into rivalry when there was no reason to. Perhaps, he thought, it wasn’t even a bad idea to put you two in one room together for several hours with no one else. It could give you time to talk out your differences. Call for a truce. Screw the anger out of each other. Anything that would make Seungkwan’s life easier.

That day comes sooner than you wanted it to, and while your hand lays on the handle of the car door, you feel the uneasiness inside you raise.

“I can’t do this, Seungkwan. One of us is gonna end up dead.”

“Yeah, my money’s on Wonwoo. Please don’t disappoint me.” Seungkwan hums back, hands on the steering wheel and his eyebrows raised. You turn around, your mouth slightly agape before scoffing and opening the door.

“Pick me up at 4?” you ask and your best friend nods, waving at you once the door is closed. He truly hopes neither of you ends up dead (but if push comes to shove, obviously Wonwoo because then Vernon would owe him 5 bucks).

Professor Yoon had told you that all necessities would be at the university and that you wouldn’t have to bring anything except for a good mood, something you didn’t dare to say was impossible in the given situation.

You aren’t stupid (Wonwoo would beg to differ), you are well aware that your professor is trying to end whatever war you and Wonwoo have going on by pairing you up for this. And while you get the sentiment and might even appreciate it a little - you’re more than sure that nothing will ever come out of this - Wonwoo and you despise each other. It has been like this since your first semester and it most definitely wasn’t going to change over something as trivial as baking cookies together.

The home eco’s kitchen is in the basement of the economics building and you are happy to notice you’re the first to arrive. Smiling to yourself, you fish the key to the room out of your bag and unlock the door, walking in and turning on the lights.

The kitchen is spacious and modern, everything is made out of gray steel, with a few dark wood accents on the cupboards. You spot the boxes with ingredients on the island, and place your bag next to it before unpacking the things provided for you and Wonwoo. It becomes your mission to arrange the cookbook with the recipe in the center of the right side of the island, gathering all the needed ingredients around it in the order you would need it. Then, you search the cupboards for a big bowl, wooden spoon and a mixer.

You have gathered almost everything except for the mixer, spotting it in one of the higher cupboards you most definitely can’t reach without some sort of help. Biting down on your lip and gnawing on it, you look around the room, coming up empty. There are chairs in the room next to the kitchen, but you don’t have the key for it. With a sigh, you stretch yourself as much as you possibly can, hand reaching for the kitchen gadget - with no luck. Just when you’re about to climb on top of the counter, you feel something shift behind you, a body suddenly pressed against yours and an arm reaching up to grab the mixer for you without any trouble at all.

Wonwoo. Your body stiffens at his touch and only relaxes once he backs off, putting the mixer down next to the other stuff. Immediately you turn around, your eyes glaring at him.

“Someone decided to show up, after all.” You spit at him and he rolls his eyes.

“I was forced, if you must know.” He says not even looking at you. His eyes are focused on the ingredients on the counter, his lips slowly drawing into a smug smile.

“Control freak much?”

Your head burns and you scoff, walking over to the door and feeling his eyes on you as you move.

“I’m giving you one chance to get out of here,” you say, holding open the door. Wonwoo doesn’t move.

“Who says I’m the one who has to go? You’re obviously the worse baker.”

Oh, he is truly playing with you right now. You let the door fall shut, eyes squeezed as you stare at him.

“Fine. Then it’ll be me and you, buddy.”

“I guess so,” he pauses, eyebrow raising, “and I’m not your buddy.”

For the most part the two of you are quiet. Mainly because you don’t have anything to say to each other. You split the ingredients evenly (either one of you starting with their own batch since there is a whole lot of cookies to bake) and begin working on opposite ends of the kitchen. You get through the first batch without so much as exchanging looks. You do your thing and he does his. Only, when you get the first batch out, you ask him to hand you the oven mittens, which he does without any fuss. You’re surprised but don’t say it.

It’s when the both of you start to work on your second batches that things… change.

You hate to admit the tension in the room. In fact, you’ve been hating it since the first day you’ve met him. It’s a shame he’s so hot when he’s the absolute bane of your existence. Your friends (mainly Seungkwan, really) tease you about your obvious attraction to the man you call your archnemesis every chance they get, causing you to flip them off, or scoff, or just roll your eyes at how extremely wrong they are. If you could change it, you would! Finding him attractive whilst hating him truly is exhausting.

Slowly, you let yourself turn around in hopes he doesn’t notice. Thankfully, he is entirely focused on sprinkling chocolate chips into the cookies - white chocolate chips. You let out a gasp and your wooden spoon falls onto the top of the counter you’re working on.

“That’s cheating!” You shout, pointing at the package of sweets that he so obviously brought himself. What a jerk!

Not even looking at you, Wonwoo chuckles at your words, placing the chocolate chips next to him and wiping his hands on the apron he had put on earlier. Then, he turns to you, hip leaning against the counter, arms crossed and his eyebrows raised as he smirks like the douchebag you know he is.

“Cheating, yeah?” He repeats, licking his lips, “not sure it counts as cheating when it was clear from the beginning I would make better cookies, sweetheart.”

His condescending way of talking to you has always succeeded in making your blood boil, just like right now. You scoff, shaking your head and cleaning your own hands with a kitchen towel to your left.

“You know, considering these are for the day of love it is quite ironic Professor Yoon paired me with you, the person I hate the most.” You present Wonwoo with a honey dripping smile that couldn’t be more fake. Wonwoo doesn’t waver though. He just continues to smirk, his eyebrows shooting up even more, and before you know it he starts walking towards you, a click of his tongue almost making you flinch.

“See, love and hate are like siblings. While on the surface they couldn’t be more different, in their core they are irritatingly similar,” his voice is deep and his eyes are right there on yours and somehow you feel like he has taken away your ability to breathe. What the hell is he doing?

“You were always fascinating to me, darling. Always so sure of your opinion, never wavering. That first day we met, do you remember? How you were on my ass for the rest of the day because Professor Cha liked my answer better than yours?”

“He did not!” You shoot back, surprised by your own whiny tone. Looking at Wonwoo’s face, the defined jawline and cheekbones, the round specs on top of his nose and the brown soft curls falling into his forehead, you immediately regret speaking up at all. There is something in his eyes now, something you have never seen before - at least not on him. Something inside of him shifted, like a switch that had been flipped, and the way he looks at you makes all of your skin erupt in goosebumps.

“Ah, so I imagined things?” Wonwoo only so much as whispers, his large frame coming even closer, “Are you saying I’m a liar, pretty girl?”

Pretty girl. What the fuck? Your eyes widen and you feel your throat closing up. Absolutely not, you could not freeze right now! He was testing you, seeing how far he could go before you actually fell for whatever he was trying to do. Gathering all your confidence, you bring your hands up to place them on his chest and softly push him away. It gives you extreme satisfaction when you see the surprise on his face.

“And if I am? What are you going to do about it, Wonwoo?” Your smile turns smug and the little vein on Wonwoo’s forehead pops out just slightly. About to retrieve your arms, you are met with his hands around your wrists and his body even closer to yours.

To say he catches you by surprise would be an understatement. Your lower back is pressed against the counter, your hands in his grip and your lungs missing the necessary air to not get dizzy. Why does he smell so good? You catch yourself thinking thoughts you normally would try to suppress at any given time - especially when Wonwoo is right in front of you. This time, though, there is no escaping. Not with him so close, not with him staring right into your soul.

“I have learned one thing over the years we’ve known each other, Y/N,” he breathes, eyes not leaving your face, “you can be a real fucking brat.”

The gasp you want to let out gets stuck in your throat. Instead, something like a choke comes out, something that makes Wonwoo smirk and your legs weak.

“You really think you’re sly. Do you honestly believe I don’t know how attractive you find me? How you need to look away everytime I come in wearing tighter shirts or pants that hang low enough to see the waistband of my underwear? You always try to act like you hate me and, you know what, maybe you do, but what I said earlier isn’t wrong, darling, love and hate are like yin and yang - they can’t exist without the other.”

He has your wrists in a strong grip and his lower body is now pressed against yours, something you never realized you craved. Feeling his growing erection against you, knowing he is turned on by you, by the situation, you feel like your head is about to explode.

“So, what if I tell you that maybe I don’t actually hate you, but I actually find you attractive as well? What if I tell you nine out of ten times I want to shut your annoying mouth up by shoving my cock right down your tight throat? Or how whenever you bend over your desk to tell someone something you, of course, know better than them, I want to take you just like that and make everyone see just how much of a desperate pretty slut you actually are?”

You’re done for. With every word he’s saying, you can feel yourself actually becoming what he says you are. Desperate. The heat between your legs has turned into liquid in your panties, has turned into your heart beating at triple speed.

“Y-You can’t just say that!” You stutter, knowing full well he will just laugh at you. And he does. He laughs and he throws his head back and then he looks at you again, his eyes glinting with want that only gets emphasized by the hard cock pressing against you.

“Oh, sweet, sweet baby. Of course, I can,” he hums, finally letting go of one of your wrists to carefully tug a strand of hair behind your ear, “you’re so beautiful, especially when you’re flustered.”

He must be playing with you. It has to be one of his games. He wants you to give in, wants you to fall for this only to hold it over your head for the rest of your college life. His mixture of dominance and sweetness is about to give you whiplash, especially when he begins to caress your cheek and leans down, his breath hitting your cheek.

“We need to finish those cookies, Wonwoo.” The words are whispered and almost inaudible, but he hears you and he smiles.

“We’re alone in this basement, sweetheart. We’ve got all day to finish those cookies.” His hand wanders down, finding its place on your hip. You shiver slightly, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips and when his nose bumps against yours, something tells you that maybe he is serious.

When he kisses you, you figure that something is correct. What’s supposed to start soft turns into something deep, and hot, and uncontrolled, right off the bat. Kissing Wonwoo feels like the only thing you had ever missed out on in life and now you finally got the chance to take what belongs to you. His lips are soft and his tongue is warm, pressing against yours and entangling it in a dance of fire. Your hands are in his hair and his are on your hips and you’re sitting on top of the counter with all of your ingredients pushed to the side, your wooden spoon falling to the floor when Wonwoo lifts you up.

As if on instinct, your legs wrap around him and you moan against his lips when his hands move up, groping your breasts through your shirt. He licks into your mouth, your fingers digging into his nape, nails dragging along his skin.

If you could see into Wonwoo’s brain you might have gotten scared. Not because he’s thinking actual scary thoughts but because of how many times he has imagined this. You’re always there, somewhere in his brain, your smile, your eyes, your laugh. And when he’s alone and can’t sleep you’re there too, but this time it’s how he thinks you’d sound when he’s inside of you, when he sucks on your neck and squeezes your tits. There hasn’t been a day since he met you that he hadn’t thought about you.

It’s a shame you immediately called him out to be your academic rival on that day because all Wonwoo wanted to do back then was to make you his girlfriend, basically falling in love with you at first sight. As cliché as it sounds, it’s even more cliché considering he just played along with you, acting like he hated you, riling you up during class in ways he would rather switch for moments like this one right now.

Never had he imagined he’d get you alone, especially considering how good you are at avoiding him. But when Professor Yoon had asked him to bake the cookies for the Valentine’s day sale - he couldn’t help but suggest you as his partner. Hours would be spent together in a kitchen, hours you had to spend with him.

He loves how right he was. How right he was about you giving in, about you finding him hot, about you wanting him. He loves the sounds you make when he begins kissing down your neck and when his hand wanders under your shirt and shoves away your bra to touch the breasts he had been dreaming about. He sucks marks onto your neck and feels himself grow harder with every passing second. There is nowhere on this earth he’d rather be than right here, between your legs.

“Been dying to do this, you know?” He mumbles against your neck, licking up to your earlobe and twitching in his pants when he feels you shivering under his touch.

“R-Really?” You whimper back and Wonwoo nods, both hands moving to your cheeks, lips back on yours in a heated, passionate kiss. He thinks that nothing will ever feel as good as kissing you.

“Yeah, baby, wanted to kiss you forever, fuck,” he moans when your fingers move underneath his shirt, when you touch his bare skin and all of him begins to burn.

“Wanted to touch you, taste you.” His words echo in your mind and you open your eyes, a horny daze in them that makes Wonwoo question his sanity. He moves down now, kissing your neck again and shoving your shirt up to kiss your stomach and breasts over your bra, nimble fingers opening the apron you had laced around your hips earlier.

“Can I taste you, pretty girl?” He asks then and you think you nod, at least you want to nod, but your head is clouded and you feel like you’re about to pass out. When he moves to get the apron off of you, focussing on opening your pants next, you figure you did in the end.

Having you half naked in front of him makes Wonwoo feel like he has reached the gates of heaven. Your pants are on the floor and your chest is heaving, eyes glossy as you watch Wonwoo move to the floor, his tall body still reaching the top of the counter when he kneels in front of you. He moves his arms, wrapping them around your thighs and pulling you closer, his nose tapping against your sensitive core the next second. With a gasp, your hands reach for his head of hair, grounding yourself in it as you stare down at the way he eyes your pussy as if he had never seen anything more delicious in his life.

When he moves your panties to the side, his finger softly gliding over your folds, you feel yourself shiver once more. You let out another whimper, biting down on your lip that feels hot and a little bruised after the way Wonwoo had kissed you.

“God, I can’t even tell you how many nights I’ve dreamt of this moment.” He kisses the inside of your thighs, making you moan quietly, fingers coating themselves in your juices, ready to please you.

Watching him is messing with your head in the best way possible. The way he looks at you, so full of endearment and adoration. How he touches you as if you’d break if he touched you too vehemently. He lets his tongue glide over your skin, moving until it reaches your dripping cunt, licking over your lips, tasting you for the first time. The moan he lets out has you digging your nails into his scalp, mouth dropped as you continue to stare down, continue to watch Wonwoo, your archnemesis, begin to devour your pussy like a Michelin star dish.

He starts off slow, licking over your folds, not touching your clit even once. If he died right now, he’d be content. Tasting you, hearing your sounds when you’re aroused, him being the cause of it - it’s almost all of his dreams coming true. His fingers move, one of them circling your entrance, your whines growing louder by the second. You want his fingers inside of you, you need them inside of you. Wiggling your hips against him, Wonwoo chuckles at your antics and finally moves his finger, inch by inch sinking into your needy hole, your eyes squeezing shut as you clench around him.

“So, so eager, princess,” he mumbles against your pussy, another breathy laugh causing you to thrust forward, his finger now completely inside of you. And, fuck, do you feel wonderful. So much better than anything Wonwoo had experienced before, better than anything he could have imagined. Perhaps, he figures, it’s because it’s you.

Next thing you know, Wonwoo’s lips are around your clit, sucking it into his mouth, tongue flicking against it and leaving you to moan his name time and time again. Your hips move against him and he lets you, his cock straining against his pants in desperate need for attention. But not yet, he isn’t done with you. First, you’d have to come undone on his tongue and his fingers, first you had to scream his name as you experienced complete and utter satisfaction. Wonwoo does everything in his power for that to happen. He adds another finger and fucks you open, his long fingers meeting your sweet spot with every thrust as if he had studied your body for hundreds of hours. His tongue does the work of a god, his lips kiss you like you had never known you needed to be kissed, especially down there.

“D-Don’t stop! Oh, fuck, Wonwoo!” You cry out, your head thrown back as you focus on nothing but your pleasure, on how he feels on your pussy, how it all is too much and yet not enough. You think about what’s to come, about how he will fuck you next, will sink into you with his cock, will make you feel like you’re the most precious woman on this planet. Even more than he already does. Your high is nearing, it’s so close you can feel it right there in front of you, that tight knot in your stomach about to break free and give you one of the most intense orgasms of your life.

“Cum for me, baby. Fuck, I want you to cum on my tongue.” Wonwoo’s words are like magic, like a spell that he puts on you. A lewd whine escapes your throat and you do as he wishes, cumming all over his tongue and fingers, your juices drenching his face. He lets you ride out your orgasm on his face, anticipation filling him when he finally parts from you.

Immediately, you pull down to kiss him when he stands. Tasting yourself on his lips with your hands opening his apron and getting it off his tall frame with his help, you can’t wait to get even closer to him. You slip out of your panties with his lips steadily on yours, a faint sound in your ears when they hit the floor.

“Need you so bad, Wonwoo, please hurry,” you cry out and he laughs, kissing your neck and your cheek, his hands opening his belt, zipper and button, shoving his pants down only for you to gasp at the sheer size of his bulge. He grins, hands back on your face to make sure you’re looking at him.

“Naughty, aren’t you? My perfect, pretty slut,” he kisses your lips again and your eyes roll back, your pussy throbbing in want. And obviously he knows how much you want him - he wants you just the same. As he continues to kiss you, he moves to pull his briefs down, his hard erection springing free, angry tip red and smeared with pre, oh-so ready to sink into your warm embrace. You part from him, eyes now setting on his cock, your mouth watering at the sight.

“Fuck, you’re big,” you say, swallowing down the saliva pooling in your mouth. Wonwoo only grins wider, his big hands finding purchase on your hips as he leans down again.

“Beg a little for it, baby, and you might get it.” You shiver and bite down on your lip, your hands wandering over his still clothed torso and down to his cock, slowly wrapping your hand around it.

“Please, Wonwoo, please fuck me…,” is your whispered plead, and the man standing in between your legs groans against your neck, sucking yet another mark into your delicate skin before nodding and grabbing his cock out of your hand, lining it up perfectly with your entrance and slowly sinking in.

His forehead is leaned against yours when he bottoms out and his hands caress your head, coming to a stop on your nape.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, kissing the tip of your nose and you smile, giving the tip of his nose a kiss back. Then, he parts from you and the look in his eyes changes from soft to dark. He does his first thrust, catching you off guard, a loud moan escaping you. Your hands grab onto his shoulders as he continues his thrusts, fucking you deep and hard, his eyes focused on your face that contours in absolute bliss. When he said you’re beautiful, he meant it.

He is holding onto your hips again, pulling you as close to him as he can, his hips chasing yours, his cock in the deepest bits of your pussy, your gummy walls squeezing him for his pleasure. There is nothing you can do besides begging him to go faster, begging him to not ever stop and crying his name when he leans down to suck on your hard nipple over your shirt.

“Wonwoo! Fuck!” You clench over and over again, stars dancing in front of your eyes accompanied by beautiful lights that slowly but surely turn into fireworks. With every thrust of his hips, you feel yourself coming closer to the edge again. You want him to fill you, want him to claim you as his, make you feel full of him and only him. Nails are digging into his shoulders, your head falling back against the kitchen cabinet, his groans and the beautiful sound of your name coming out of his mouth chasing you off the cliff and into the warm waters of yet another intense orgasm.

“Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop, oh- Wonwoo!” It’s done, you are done, your climax hitting you hard and making you gush all over his length that is still so deeply buried inside your sensitive cunt. Wonwoo moans, feeling your pussy clench around him, squeeze him, beg him to cum, to decorate you in his shades of white. And he wants to, god, there is nothing he had ever wanted more. His breathing becomes labored and he leans forward, engulfing you in yet another heated kiss, one arm wrapped around you, the other letting its hand rest on your cheek, thumb caressing your chin as his tongue flicks against yours over and over, mixed with his breathless moans.

When you squeeze him the next time, he erupts. He moans your name, hips becoming frantic as he shoots his load into you, spurts of white and hot cum filling your spent pussy, your and his combined releases dripping down your thighs even as he fucks his cum so, so deep into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he pants against your mouth, continuing to kiss you right after, riding out his orgasm and only stopping when you’re both completely out of breath.

It’s silent for a few moments, the only thing audible your almost synchronized breathing. Your hands are still on his shoulders, his hands are still on your waist and your cheek. His face is buried in the crook of your neck and he softly kisses your sweaty skin, nothing but pure happiness running through him at this point. He softly caresses your face as he leans back again, his eyes searching for yours.

“Y/N,” he then breathes, a small and maybe even shy smile playing on his lips.

“Wonwoo,” you sigh back, pulling him into a hug that he accepts with a laugh, both his arms now fully wrapped around your body. He’s still inside of you and only leaves you when you part from the hug, more of his release now dripping out of your core. He doesn’t ask whether you’re on birth control because for all he cares he would love to have you pregnant with his child. The thought alone makes his head spin.

“Well,” he begins, a smug smile on his face as he leans down to pick up your panties, “that definitely gives ‘cookies and cream’ a different meaning.”

You stare at him, slightly bewildered, for around three seconds before you burst into laughter, grabbing your underwear from him and jumping back onto your shaky feet. “You’re horrible,” you say and shake your head and Wonwoo’s smile grows even wider.

“Maybe. But I promise you, sweetheart, I’ll never ever be horrible to you again.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that, Mr. Know-It-All,” you smile and give his cheek a peck that he reacts to by turning bright red.

It is in that exact moment you realize Wonwoo was never your archnemesis. Nor has he ever been as much of an ass as you had made him out to be. Jeon Wonwoo is nothing but a loser who’s been in love with you since the very first day you met him, and perhaps you had always known. Perhaps you finally let yourself realize right now, the moment after he had cum inside of you and still blushes like a little kid when you kiss his cheek, that the only reason you had chosen him to be your rival was to run away from how much you knew you’d fall for him if you didn’t.

“Come on, let’s do what we actually came here for.”

And for the rest of the day you and Wonwoo bake the cookies for the sale and talk about what your plans are for Valentine’s. To no surprise those plans immediately involve hanging out together. Maybe, you think, to give ‘cookies and cream’ that new meaning over and over again.

1K notes · View notes

indecisivemuch · 3 months

Text

Cupids in Converses

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: Valentine's was rolling up. You and Luke played Cupid on Percy and Annabeth. But what if playing matchmakers gave both you guys and your unspoken feelings the nudge that you guys have always needed? (Fluff, friends to lovers, happy ending)

Warning: sort of cliché, but it's Valentines so.

Note: Valentines got me in the mood of writing something rom-com-ish. Let's just assume Luke wears red converses that looks like Maia in the show. Also, I've been incredibly busy so I kinda rushed through this one to post it on time for Valentines.

Word count: 4.1k (whoops)

February has always filled the air with some sort of sugary chemical. Everything seemed sweeter like a pink filter had been put over the world. Some may dislike the upcoming February holiday, but it was perhaps one of your favorite times of the year.

Why? You were somehow blessed with the skills of getting people together and nudging them just enough to cross the line they needed to. So far, you have managed to help six couples get together. With Valentine’s right around the corner, the urge to play cupid grew to the point it was itching your hands.

“Well, compared to the Chimera on Monday, Medusa on Sunday, could have been a lot worse,” Percy was quickly interrupted by Annabeth.

“Medusa was Saturday.”

“I thought Sunday?”

“No monsters on Sunday. Monday, you died in a river.” You squint your eyes at the conversation that Percy and Annabeth were having. The familiar bells rang in your head; you could practically hear them roaring at you.

“Right, so Medusa on Saturday…”

“Woah, guys, what’s this?” Luke interrupted. “When did you turn into an old married couple?” Percy and Annabeth both grew slightly flustered at the Hermes counselor’s words. Muttering a few things here and there, the two kids quickly excused themselves and walked off from you and Luke just to avoid the topic in general. You slowly turned towards Luke and peered up at him.

“Surely…” you spoke cryptically.

“Surely what?”

“Them!” you gestured to the direction that Percy and Annabeth had headed off to. You kicked a small rock with your Converse and watched it tumble away. “Surely we can give a little nudge?” you trailed off, bumping into Luke’s shoulder.

“You’re not seriously gonna play Cupid on them, right?”

“No, I’m not…because we are,” Luke let out a loud breath, hands on his hips as he peered down at you. However, you could see a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“Sweet girl, I adore you, but why not let things run their course?” you hope he did not see the physical reaction over that nickname because, internally, your heart skipped a beat.

“Oh? And you’re telling me those six couples from before would have gotten together without me? You know I’m right about this kind of stuff. I can usually sense it. Besides, it’ll be fun, I promise.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“Uhm…you get to spend time with me?” you decided to answer, grinning up at Luke when he gave you a feigned unimpressed look. “Please, besides, you and Percy are close, so it would help a lot. I already have a plan and I need your help for it.”

One look into your eyes, and Luke knew he was doomed. For some reason, you just can make him do anything you ask. Luke could feel the hands on his hips slowly slipping as he looked into your eyes.

“Fine.”

Stage 1: Get Percy to realize his feelings cause he’s blind as hell

It was midnight and everybody else was asleep except for you and Luke. The two of you were in the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as possible.

The two of you were making some fortune cookies for your plan. However, there was a tiny twist to the treat you two were making. You had personally printed out a couple of prompts that you wrote yourself in hopes they would nudge Percy into realizing his feelings.

“Really?’“Romance is in the air. What you’re looking for is right in front of you’?” Luke read out the small piece of paper that you printed. You pulled the cookies out of the oven when they were ready.

“It’s cliche and sort of obvious, but hey! It’ll work because it’s Percy I’m working with,” you quickly pulled the paper out of his hand to put it in the fortune cookie before folding it into shape and letting it cool down.

“Mhm. He’s gonna realize you’re trying to play cupid.”

“Are we talking about the same person? I doubt Percy would realize. Annabeth would, hence why I’m not trying this on her.”

Luke helped you out with a couple of other spare fortune cookies that you two intended to keep for yourselves.

“Alright, finally done,” you muttered, washing your hands. However, you were caught off guard when Luke dipped his hand in the bag of flour on the counter and smeared some on your cheek. Your mouth hung slightly at this, and you looked up at him challengingly. You wiped your hands with a hand towel, “Oh? Is that how we’re playing it?”

“...No…” Luke sheepishly replied, a grin growing on his face when he saw the look of mischief creeping on your face.

“Game on, Castellan,” with that, you dipped both of your hands in flour and chased after the tall boy, who was sprinting around the counter. You caught up with Luke and compromised by smearing flour onto the back of his shirt first. At your attack, he turned around and smeared some more across your face from your other cheek to the top of your nose. You immediately did it back to him.

“Ok, ok, I surrender,” he coughed in between quiet waves of laughter after you smeared some from his cheek down his neck, marking your last attack.

For a moment, Luke and you stood in silence, but when you two let the state of one another sink in, laughs echoed throughout the room again. Luke was able to stop his laughter first, though he was still wearing a wide grin. He washed the flour off his face and dried it with kitchen tissues as you muttered: “Oh, I wish I had a camera. I could practically blackmail you with that photo.”

“I have no doubt you would have never let me live that down,” while replying, Luke also approached you and started wiping the flour off your nose before moving to your cheeks. Your laughter slowly faded as your cheeks heated at the feeling of his hand on your skin. He was looking at you so tentatively. Callous hands - a reflection of his remarkable title as best swordsman - delicately holding your face as if you were the rarest diamond to exist.

Something about this moment felt so domestic. Luke allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy that this is how it would feel like to be with you and share cute moments like these together. Luke unbeknownstly let out a breath he didn’t know he was keeping in as he made eye contact with you.

However, the moment was interrupted by another camper who yelped upon seeing you two in the kitchen. The presence of another person caused you two to spring apart. “I’m so sorry, I’ll leave,” the camper muttered, clearly abandoning their plan of stealing food and sweets in the middle of the night. Luke coughed to break the silence.

“So what’s the plan after giving it to Percy?” Luke asked, looking down at the fortune cookies before picking one up and munching on it.

“Hopefully, he’ll finally realize his feelings, and when he does…Percy will come to you, for sure.”

Stage 2: Romantic gesture

You were right, Percy came to Luke for dating advice. As you planned, Luke suggested that Percy make a flower crown for Annabeth. Hence, here the Hermes counselor was - with Percy as he picked out flowers for Annabeth.

"I'm gonna need you to guide me on this 'cause I've never made flower crowns before," Percy muttered as he picked out California Poppins, Annabeth's favorite. Luke grinned at this. He found it interesting how the young boy already knew. "Maybe you could make one for someone special too?" Percy said, his voice somewhat unsure.

At the young boy's words, Luke froze. The first person that seemed to pop into his mind when Percy said that was you.

"I mean, might as well, right? It's for Valentine's. Maybe you could give it to someone who means a lot to you and makes you happy?" Percy spoke, though there was something instigative about his tone.

Happy. The word bounced in between the walls of Luke's mind. Once again, the first thing that flashed in his head was you. Then, a surge of images came running from memories of you two. He almost could not remember happiness before you. A warm feeling embedded in his chest as he pictured your smile. Just seeing you happy seemed to do it for him, like you could spread happiness to him by just looking at him. You were like the first glimmer of daylight after a cold night. He subconsciously smiled at that thought.

You have always made him feel loved, even though he knew you were probably doing it platonically. However, he would gladly take any form of love that he could receive from you. Every day, waking up and knowing he had you in his life was good enough for him. Maybe he should try giving you more hints. Maybe you'll finally see it. Perhaps Percy was right with the flower crown idea.

“Uhm, sure,” with that, Luke decided to take some of your favorite flowers into his hand and went to a nearby table, where he started guiding Percy on how to make a flower crown. However, ever so often, his mind would trail to its own thoughts whenever he focused on making this flower crown for you.

Percy watched Luke as the older boy started intensely working on his own flower crown, crafting it with so much care as if it was an artwork intended for a national museum. If Percy didn’t know better, he would think Luke was a perfectionist.

Meanwhile, you were sitting with Annabeth near the ocean where she had previously pushed Percy into the waters, leading to Poseidon claiming him. You asked, “Any plans for Valentine’s Day?”

“No, you?”

“Nope.”

“Oh?” she replied, though you tilted your head at the tone of her voice. “I’m just surprised,” Annabeth explained as she looked out at the ocean instead of at you. “I mean…I thought you and Luke…”

“Huh?—”

“Well, I mean, you two are together all the time, and there seems to be something going on —”

“What do you mea—”

“It always seems like you two would gravitate to one another. I just assumed you two were together already—”

“We’re…just friends,” you settled on saying, though you could hear your heart beating loudly, seemingly echoing near your chest and neck. Of course, you knew you had feelings for Luke. However, you have always ruled it as a silly little crush.

“...You sure? You sound really unsure,” Annabeth challenged, making you sigh.

“I mean, he’s really sweet, and nice…”

“Uh-huh”

“And he makes me laugh all the time…”

“That’s good,” Annabeth’s words echoed as you sunk into silence and started reflecting on who Luke was to you. He has always made you feel cared for. Out of everybody at camp, perhaps he was the one you were most comfortable with, never having to be afraid of being yourself. Almost all of your favorite memories at camp included him in them.

You remember the night you told him about your minor fear of the darkness and how he promised to always protect you in it. In a way, since then, he has become your light. You always felt lit up when he made his way to you. Your eyes are always drawn to him like a moth to its flame. Then, it finally dawned on you how serious your feelings were. You realized how most of the time you seemed to be mindless about the existence of your heart until Luke was around because it was only then that your heart would tug or race to run you breathless. You gulped as your eyes darted around slightly.

“I mean…maybe…” you started but snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Luke’s voice. And there it was again, the silly familiar tug your heart was doing just from his voice. “Hey…” you greeted Luke and Percy before noticing Percy with a flower crown in his hand.

“Annabeth, can I speak to you privately?” Annabeth stood up and gestured for Percy to lead the way, presumably somewhere, so the young boy could give her the flower crown and ask her out on Valentine’s Day. You remained seated, still pondering at your feelings and wondering when they had exponentially grown that much.

“I actually have something for you as well,” you finally looked up at Luke when he said this. You noticed he had his hands behind his back. Something about the way he looked now seemed so shy and timid, which was unlike the outgoing and confident boy you always knew.

Your mouth fell agape when he pulled out a flower crown made of your favorite flower. “Luke…” you said his name and stood up when you saw the item.

However, because your eyes were on his gift, you didn’t notice the way Luke’s breath hitched at the sound of your voice calling out his name. He never thought it was anything special until November two years ago when you said his name while laughing at one of his jokes by the campfire. It was probably a moment you did not remember, but ever since then, he felt so sure that he was named so because the name sounded like it was born just for the sole purpose of being sounded from your lips.

“I made this for you,” he muttered, though it sounded almost like a whisper. His eyes shifted to both of your Converses instead of at you. Something about this made him so nervous as if he was handing you his heart instead of a simple gift. He almost scowled at himself for acting like a boy in kindergarten, confessing to his crush.

If only Luke was looking at you because you were looking at him and the item in awe. Your cheeks flushed from his gesture. Though, you were somewhat glad he was not looking at you because you were sure one look at you right now would tell Luke exactly everything about your feelings. You were a blushing mess. “Luke, thank you so much. This is beautiful. I can’t believe you made one for me.”

You touched Luke’s hand that was holding the crown, and he almost grew an even deeper shade of red. “Put it on my head,” you instructed, and he obliged just like everything else you would ask. He was sure he must have caught a sickness or something for wanting to follow you this blindly. But you were perhaps the only one with the power to get him to do absolutely anything. Just as the crown touched your hair, you peered up at him, and the sight alone made Luke swallow nervously.

You looked breathtaking.

And he meant this literally because Luke felt like he stopped breathing for a second. He could not look away. That was until you wrapped your arms around his waist and hugged him. His arms wrapped around your neck almost immediately to return the hug as if they existed to only hold you.

However, unlike the hundreds of hugs before, this one felt different. It was as if something had shifted and was bound to unfold.

Final Stage: Valentine’s Day

Annabeth had said yes.

You were ecstatic to learn that the young girl had agreed to go on a Valentine’s date with Percy. Even though you didn’t want to intrude, you and Luke decided to just have a peep to see what Percy had planned. You were not planning to stay long. It was just a sort of reward or a way to see your plan grow into fruition. You smiled when you spot the cute picnic date near the shore.

“See, I told you the plan was going to work,” you muttered as you tiptoed up in your converses to peer at the kids through the tall bushes nearby. You almost lost balance and step onto Luke's shoes that were similar to yours, except his was red.

The boy quickly steadied you with his hand on your waist. You muttered a quick thank you before turning back to the kids, trying to ignore the blush that was slowly decorating your cheeks. But you were quickly caught off guard at the sight of Percy and Annabeth pushing a small boat off the shore and hopping on it.

“Uhm…that is not what I expected. Where are they going?” Luke looked over your shoulder when you said that. Your eyes fluttered at his warm breath hitting your neck.

However, you noticed the two kids looking like they were in trouble and panicking as they quickly started rowing away. You turned your head towards Luke, forgetting he was very close to you. Your voice faltered as you were about to utter your next sentence. Noticing this, Luke turned to you, only causing the two of you to come face to face with little distance in between. You gulped and forced yourself not to glance down at his lips, “Do you think they’re okay? Should we follow them? I mean…what if they’re in trouble?”

Seeing the worried look on your face, Luke frowned. He deeply disliked anything that caused that kind of expression on your face. Hence, he decided to go over to the second boat there and started pushing it towards the water. “Come on,” you hopped onto the small boat with him and started rowing after Percy and Annabeth, hoping to help them from whatever trouble they were seeming to have.

After a few minutes of rowing behind them, you saw Percy and Annabeth rowing into a small tunnel. Luke and you quickly followed in, rowing your boat, only to be engulfed by darkness upon entering the tunnel.

The wind blew much harder in there, causing goosebumps on your arm as your hand gripped your oar tightly. To make matters worse, it was your most hated type of darkness - utter pitch black. Even with your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could see nothing, not even Luke.

You were fine with darkness in familiar places like your cabin, where you knew at least there were other campers around and you were safe. You were also mostly fine with darkness where you could see as your eyes adjusted to it. But here, you were in a tunnel you’ve never been in, where there were possibly monsters that could attack you at any moment.

You were slightly startled by the hand that softly touched yours that, unbeknownst to you, was crushing the wooden oar. You immediately recognize it was Luke’s hand from the warmth and familiar touch. He soothingly ran his thumb across your hand. His actions were proven effective at calming you down when you could feel your grip loosen around the tool.

“Breathe, sweet girl,” his words somehow made you release the breath you were subconsciously holding.

A few seconds later, the lights were turned on. You were met with one of the most beautiful sights you’ve ever seen. Lights were decorating the path throughout the tunnel. There were also plants and trees with extended branches and leaves that softly brushed past the boat Luke and you were on.

Suddenly, you both heard a tune start playing quietly in the background, almost quiet enough to make you two think you were imagining it:

“There you see her, sitting there across the way.

She don’t got a lot to say, but there’s something about her”

His thumb hasn’t stopped rubbing over your knuckles even though the darkness was no longer casting over the both of you. His eyes were absorbing how you looked at that moment, embracing it. You were absolutely stunning and he was hopelessly infatuated with you.

“And you don’t know why, but you’re dying to try

You wanna kiss the girl.”

The lyrics made Luke subconsciously lick his lips as he pictured himself kissing you. Gods, he wondered if his heart would even survive doing so and whether anything would ever surpass getting to kiss you. Your eyes flickered to Luke's lips, and he noticed it. He also noticed how your cheeks flushed as you gulped at his actions.

“Luke.”

“Y/N,” you almost melted at the way Luke was saying your name as if it was an honor or privilege to do so. The tone he used was sweeter than any dessert you have ever had. Gods, it was as if your name was a sacred passage he lived by.

“Yes, you want her

Look at her, you know you do”

Indeed he was looking at you, and it felt almost like he was spellbound because he could not take his eyes off you. Right then, you could see it all - he was utterly smitten. He was giving you a soft smile. The lights decorating the tunnel shimmered in his eyes, illuminating just enough to display his pupils and how they almost completely overtook the usual dark brown color that you love. Before you knew it, he was leaning closer to you on the small boat and you mirrored his action.

“Possible she wants you too, there is one way to ask her…”

Just when Luke was inches from your face, he stopped. His eyes longingly stare at your lips like a long-awaited dream that was within his grasp but not quite within his grip yet. You noticed how he took a deep breath as if mustering all the drops of courage he had. His eyes fluttered shut for a second before he opened them again.

“Can I?” he uttered only two words, but somehow, his voice conveyed enough the yearning coursing through every inch of his body. Luke gulped as he restrained himself from closing the distance and waited for your consent.

You nodded wordlessly.

“It don’t take a word, not a single word

Go on and kiss the girl.”

Almost instantly, he caressed both sides of your face and sealed the deal.

All the glory Luke has gained throughout the years seemed trivial compared to kissing you. It almost convinced him that everything he had gone through to get here today was worth it. He hummed against your lips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him even closer. Kissing you felt like the best gift he had ever gotten in his entire life. Luke knew he was forever screwed from the way it felt. He could not fathom the idea of his lips ever touching anyone else’s. Maybe they were made for you, but his heart and mind do not seem to oppose that idea.

You slowly slid your arms down, allowing your hands to caress his jawline and the sides of his face. However, your hands slightly jolted at the pace of his heartbeat along the side of his neck. It was as if his heart was trying to break out of his body. Your own heart started replicating the same rhythm. It had you flustered that you had such an effect on him.

Luke broke away from the kiss breathlessly. For a second, he hated the idea of needing air to live because if he could, he would not have stopped showing you how much his lips belonged to you. His forehead leaned against yours while his hands rested on your hips. He looked at you endearingly as if he could not fathom that he just got to kiss you. You smiled at the sight of him.

“I know I’m a tad bit late, but will you be my Valentine?” he sweetly asked.

“Of course, Luke.” Luke grinned at your answer. He drew you in for another kiss as giggles escaped your lips and echoed through the tunnel that now marked an important memory for the two of you.

You truly must be Cupid because your plan not only worked for Percy and Annabeth, but somehow also indirectly gave Luke and you the nudge you both needed.

14th February marked the day when two Cupids wearing Converses got their happy ending.

Bonus:

“I told you that would work,” Annabeth whispered to Percy as the two hopped back onto their boat with a speaker in hand, rowing away hastily to be out of sight from the older couple.

Little did you know, Annabeth had orchestrated the whole thing, including the conversation between her and Percy about their mission in front of Luke and you. Annabeth’s plan of getting Luke and you together through playing cupid together had seemingly worked just like she had planned.

Who said you were the only cupid at Camp Half-Blood?

----------------------

masterlist

join my Luke Castellan taglist

taglist: @nininehaaa @perseus-jackass @tanifsblog @bubbly0 @hinata7346 @hinata7346 @justanotherkpopstanlol @mysteris-things @randomgurl2326 @star611 @2hiigh2cry @seriously-slytherin22 @spideytingley @blondervoi @stuffyownswrld @fantasticchaosthing @amortencjja @chunkiwhunki @bookwormlu @crack240 @fandomthings-blog @sh0-ya @milkncookies143 @burdeningbitch @bugcuti3 @alexisishaunted @lilacspider @olivegirl123 @nellyjan-th @kehlanislefttoe

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan #luke castellan fanfiction #pjo fic #pjo #charlie bushnell #pjo imagine #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo tv show #pjo series #best friends to lovers #fluff

2K notes · View notes

schoopsahoy · 1 year

Text

more than just friends

steve harrington x female!reader {3.1k} you and your best friend have gotten into the habit of making out, as long as there's no touching. but that's easier said than done. no use of y/n, not proofread 18+ mdni

cw: mutual masturbation, unprotected p in v sex

No touching.

That was the rule that you and Steve had settled on, because making out with your best friend is totally okay as long as there’s no touching. Sure, a hand on a waist or a cheek is alright - anything more is off limits.

Your rule worked fine at first, but recently the two of you seem to keep pushing the boundary. Just a little each time - like the way you’ll leave hickies on each other and not make much of an attempt to hide them, or how Steve has you underneath him with a leg in between your thighs and there’s just enough pressure to make your head a little dizzy.

His mouth is kissing softly against the lilac bruise he’s left under your jaw, and you’re having to use all your self control to not press yourself down against his leg for the friction your body is craving. You feel so tightly wound, the fact you know it can’t go any further only makes you crave it more, your stomach in knots and heart pounding in your chest.

“Steve.” It comes out as a whine, all desperate and you’d probably be embarrassed if it were anyone else who was kissing down your neck. You only get a hum as a response, Steve too focused on marking up your skin to realize you weren’t just saying his name as some encouragement. “Steve.” You’re a little firmer this time, voice not as breathy as before and it’s enough to finally bring his attention back to your face.

“Hm, what? Y’wanna stop?” His lips are all slick and swollen from his work on your throat, pupils a little blown as he stares down at you. He pushes some of your hair out of your face, loose strands that he can tuck behind your ear and the gentle act only has you aching more, the coil in your stomach twisting that bit tighter.

“No, no.” You breathe your words out, eyes closing as you almost laugh at the suggestion. “S’like, the opposite of what I want.”

Steve’s still stroking mindlessly at your hair, all soft and without a second thought. “You want more hickies?” His brow pinches with confusion, face a little scrunched up and you hate that all you can think about is how cute he is, how much you want him. “‘Cause I can do that, but y’might get in trouble at work.”

“No, not that.” You sigh, pressing your lips together as you battle with yourself over saying what you actually mean. “I want more, y’know?”

“More?” He watches you nod below him, cheeks all flushed and you can’t hold his gaze. “What, like you wanna get off?” His voice is a little teasing, a grin tugging on his lips as you try to hide your face with your hands.

“God, I d’know.” You groan, suddenly all shy even though you know you don’t have to be. “I guess, maybe, yeah.” Steve taps your arms, a silent signal for you to uncover your face and you do, reluctantly. “I know we said no touching, but like, I feel like I’m gonna explode or somethin’.” You try to cover how serious you are with a laugh, hoping it’ll make it easier to play off if Steve completely shuts you down.

“I mean, there’s ways around that.” The way Steve’s smiling at you has your stomach doing somersaults.

“There is?”

“Sure, if you really want to.” He leans down to press a kiss on your lips, something small and barely there that has you chasing his mouth for more when he pulls away. “D’you want to?”

“Don’t be a dick, Steve.” You whine, head tipping back because of course he’s dragging it on, drawing it out of you as if you’re not already so tightly wound that you feel like you might snap any second. “Go on then, what's your loophole?”

“We can just get ourselves off, together.” He shrugs like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

You feel like your body is pressing harder into your mattress now, like gravity suddenly got stronger and you’re stuck in your spot with no way to move and Steve is looking down at you with his big brown eyes and a smirk tugging at his lips. You think your skin must be hot to the touch at this point, your temperature climbing and climbing because you’re about to get off with your best friend. You kind of wish you weren’t sober right now, craving the liquid confidence that comes with the buzz from a couple of drinks.

“Yeah, okay.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, looking up at Steve through your lashes suddenly all shy but the way he’s looking at you, all fondness and lust and like he’s been craving this too, makes you feel a little more confident.

As soon as you say the words, his lips are back on yours. It’s all hot and heavy with the way he’s licking into your mouth, different to how he usually kisses you - a little dirty and it’s enough to rip the air from your lungs and have you panting whenever he pulls away.

“Don’t be shy, baby, it’s just us.” He whispers against your lips, breath tickling your skin and the way he calls you baby has your hairs standing on end. He takes one of your hands in his own, guiding it down your body towards your already wet core. “You got it, just relax.” He coos, only moving his hand once you take the step and dip yours beneath your pyjama shorts.

You start slow, lazy circles rubbed over your panties because you’re still a little shy with it all. Steve’s placing soft kisses all over your face and neck, mumbling words of encouragement as he palms at himself through his sweatpants. Neither of you brave enough to shed any clothing yet, because sure you’ve been friends for years and spent countless summer days by Steve’s pool wearing far less but this was different.

You try to stifle your moans by biting down on your bottom lip, a little whimper trying to escape each time you brush over your clit and Steve can see the way your chest hitches as you try to control it.

“Y’don’t have to be shy, not with me.” He nudges his nose against yours, voice all soft and all you can manage is to nod wordlessly at him as he sits up to pull his shirt over his head. He tosses it to your bedroom floor, not that you saw where it went because you can’t stop staring at him - the way his muscles move with each motion, skin all tanned from the summer sun and you really, really hate your no touching rule now.

You squeeze your eyes shut before wriggling out of your own top, it’s a little easier when you can pretend like your best friend isn’t watching your every move. You do, however, regret not wearing a bra because you’re suddenly feeling all too exposed and a little - or maybe a lot - self conscious.

You go to try and cover yourself, one eye barely open to peer at Steve who’s looking at you like you’re the most perfect thing he’s ever seen. “Fuckin’ hell, you’re so hot.” His voice sounds spent, all breathy and strained and you suddenly feel a lot less exposed. If you weren’t already so hot with it all, you’re sure all your blood would be running to your cheeks.

Your eyes travel down to watch Steve stroking himself beneath his sweatpants, still constrained by them and his boxers but you can see how hard he is and feel your core clenching around nothing just at the thought of him.

It all seems to move so quickly once you start shedding clothes, like stripping back that layer has taken away all the shyness and uncertainty you felt and replaced it with some insatiable longing for something more, anything more.

You finally dip beneath your panties, wet fabric cold against your skin as you run a finger through your slick, gathering it up before rubbing tight circles against your clit. You can’t help but whimper with it all, the way Steve’s looking at you as he touches himself and how sensitive you are already, body reacting to each touch like they’re laced with electricity. “Oh my god.” You tip your head back, blinking hard as you try to breathe through the way you can feel the pressure build up in your stomach.

“Jesus, fuck, y’look so good.” Steve’s kneeling in between your legs, his free hand against your cheek and thumb rubbing softly against your skin. “Y’gonna take those off for me?” He nods down to your shorts. “Gonna let me see you?”

“Fuck, Steve.” You mewl, eyes meeting his as you continue rubbing your clit. “Y’want that? Wanna watch me touch myself?” You’re not sure where this faux confidence has come from, because it even shocks you when you say it but the way Steve reacts - a deep groan of your name and his pace against himself increasing - has your head spinning.

“God, yeah, please, I want that.” You don’t need anymore encouragement, hands tugging your shorts and panties down your legs to be discarded to the growing pile of clothes on the floor. You go to tug and Steve’s waistband, to even the playing field so you’re not the only one fully exposed, but hover your hand there because the lines are all blurred now and you don’t know what’s okay anymore. You think you might be a little bit fucked. “You wanna help me? Y’can do that, it’s okay.”

His tones all soothing and his hand guides yours back to his sweatpants so you can pull them down his legs along with his boxers. You knew Steve was big, you’ve felt him get hard when you’ve been straddling him when you make out, but actually seeing him has you clenching around nothing again, your body desperate to be filled by something other than your own fingers.

It’s all a little messy, because Steve’s leaning over you and kissing all down your neck and onto your chest and your hands keep knocking against each other as you both try to chase your highs. It’s driving you a little mad each time his hand bumps yours, so close to your cunt but never quite getting there, the frustration building in you as you dip a finger inside yourself in an attempt to get some sort of relief.

Steve looks down between the two of you, watches you try to settle on a rhythm as you pump your finger into yourself and whine at how it’s never quite right. Like it’s just missing that spot that would finally send you tumbling over the edge, so close to being what you need but falling short each time.

“Steve.” The way you say his name has him groaning again, because you sound so desperate and needy and his cock is so close to your cunt and God does he want to fuck you. Abandon all the boundaries you’ve spent so long obeying because you look so perfect underneath him and he just wants to look after you, make you feel good like he knows he can. “Please.”

It’s like you don’t need to say anything more, he already knows what you’re asking for, what you want from him. “Please what, baby?” He gives you that stupid grin as he rubs the tip of his cock against your core, running it up and down your slick eliciting a whine from you each time it nudges your clit.

“Want you.” You’re so wound up that you can barely force any words out, brain all muddled from how desperate you are to just be touched. “Want you to fuck me.”

“Fuck, yeah, y’sure?” You just nod at him, eyes all wide and chest heaving and he can see the way you squirm with each movement he makes against you, so sensitive and wound up. “Y’gotta tell me, use your words.”

“M’sure, Steve, please.” You’re practically begging now, blinking hard because you can feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes and you don’t want to cry but you’re just so needy and your body feels like it’s on fire with it all.

Steve kisses your temple, thumb swiping under your eyes where the skins a little wet from the tears that are welling up. “Oh, honey, don’t cry, I’ve got you.” He hushes you, hand moving from your face to hold yours as he uses the other to line up against your entrance. “Gonna make you feel so good, yeah?”

As soon as he starts to press into you, it’s like all the pent up energy inside your stomach is ready to release. The way his cock stretches you out, slow thrusts so it doesn’t hurt you too bad as he kisses you all soft and you find yourself thinking that this doesn’t really feel like you’re just friends messing about anymore.

Your free hand finds purchase on his shoulders, nails digging into the skin and leaving little half moons there that’ll probably still be there in the morning. Your breath hitches in your chest with each thrust, a little whimper spilling from your mouth as Steve squeezes your hand. “Doin’ so good for me, takin’ me so well.” His words are whispered against your skin, and you feel him hum against it when he finally bottoms out inside you.

He sits there for a moment, letting you adjust to him but he can feel you clenching you around him and it sends his head spinning a little. You rock your hips against him, your voice still caught in your throat so this is the best way you can think of to tell him to move. He seems to get it though, a small chuckle at your antsy movements before he starts to rock his hips into you.

It’s still a slow pace, agonizingly so almost. Because you’re so tightly wound at this point, teetering on the edge just to be pulled back over and over and never quite get there. You don’t say anything though, don’t push for Steve to move faster or harder because he’s still holding your hand and mumbling praises into your neck over and over and it feels about as soft as fucking your best friend can.

After a couple minutes he does quicken his thrusts, you still mewling underneath him each time the tip of his cock nudges the soft spot inside you that you can never quite reach yourself. His free hand hitches one of your legs up higher, fingers spread wide against the soft skin of your thigh so he can bring it up to his waist and get deeper inside you.

“Jesus, Steve, feels so good.” You manage to mumble something out, words a little slurred from how tight your chest feels because you’re already so close and your heart is beating so hard you can almost hear it. “M’so close.” Everything you say comes out as a whine, not that you mean it to, but Steve likes it. Likes that it’s him who’s got you so blissed out.

“Yeah? Y’gonna cum for me? Such a good girl.” He soothes, voice all sickly sweet but still a little filthy. He thrusts into you harder now, watching the way your back arches up off the bed for him when he gets real deep. When his fingers start rubbing against your clit you know you’re done for, the messy circles against your nerves and the way he’s buried so deep inside you and looking at you like you’re the only important thing in the world right now is all too much for you.

“Fuckfuckfuck.” You moan as you feel the tether inside you finally snap, wound so tightly that when it finally releases it has you seeing white as you squeeze your eyes shut and grip onto Steve even harder than before.

“You’re okay, I got you.” Steve keeps rocking his hips into you through your high, letting you squeeze his hand so tight that you would definitely feel bad about it if you weren’t so preoccupied. “So pretty for me, y’so perfect.” He keeps running his mouth with praises as he chases his own high, thrusts getting a little sloppy as he gets closer, feeling you squeeze him as you came enough to have him almost there already. “I’m so - fuck - m’so close, where should I cum?” He’s blinking hard to try and keep himself controlled enough to at least last until you tell him.

You’re still trying, and failing, to catch your breath. Body still feeling like it’s charged with electricity, all your nerves on high alert as you try to come down from your climax whilst Steve still pounds into you.

“M’on the pill.” You exhale, words barely audible over the sounds of Steve fucking into you. “Can cum inside, want you to.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” Steve groans, head tucked into the crook of your neck as his movements become a little sloppier and fall out of rhythm as he reaches his own climax, hips stuttering as he whispers about how good you feel and how pretty you are as he spills inside you.

He stays inside you after he’s finished, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath amidst pressing gentle kisses to your face. You don’t want to admit how much you like it, not just the fucking but the intimacy of it all. Your hands are still intertwined, fingers locked with each other and neither of you make any attempt to unhook them.

“Think we did that wrong.” You mumble, a shy smile on your lips as Steve pauses his kisses to look at you. His eyes still look all dark and wide, thick lashes blinking slow at you as he grins, shaking his head.

“Yeah, think the whole ‘no touching’ things kinda out the window now.” He glances down to where he’s still buried inside you, and despite everything it’s still enough to have you feeling all shy. “I don’t mind though, if you don’t.” He looks at you, eyes full of affection and a soft smile as he waits for you to answer. It’s always no pressure with Steve, never pushing you for anything or making you uncomfortable - you’re always his first priority. It makes your heart ache a little, in a good way.

“I don’t mind.” It’s a roundabout way of expressing your feelings, neither of you pushing it any further right now because it’s enough. You know each other so well that you don’t need to say more, reading between the lines and letting things happen slowly. Maybe you’re not as fucked as you thought you were.

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut

6K notes · View notes

toji-bunny-girl · 4 months

Text

𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓✩’𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓

CHARACTERS— Santa!Gojo Satoru x pretty sexy gorgeous fem!reader SUMMARY— Supposedly another Christmas night being lonely and horny, you’re suddenly woken up by Santa coming to claim you your Christmas gift. WORD COUNT— 3k+ CONTENT WARNING— slight angst, swearing, smut, porn with plot, virginity lost, fingering, clit sucking, oral sex, no protection A/N— Merry Christmas, my fellow bitchless angels 😔 Ya’ll better not let this shit flop or else I’m going insane. btw guys God literally told me face-to-face that my dog is cuter than your pet 😨 it’s true tho

“So,” your co-worker, Mina started as she haled the roll-up gate down, flipping her long extensions behind her shoulder before grabbing the lock from your extended hand, “got any plans this Christmas?”

“I don’t know…I’ll probably go out with my friends to the new cat cafe. You?” you watched as her fingers worked deftly to lock the gate before trying to pull it open in an attempt to make sure she got it locked.

“Kai wants to visit Ginzan Onsen, said it’ll be the best place to ‘make love’ or something. I mean, long story short he thinks it’s a cute place to fuck,” Mina apprised, always a little bit too forward with her wordings—her bold personality and style amolous from yours.

Albeit she’s amiable and kind, you still couldn’t quite get used to her blatant forwardness despite working with her for the past 5 months. And Mina loved teasing you about how sensitive you are; already blushing from the mere word ‘fuck’.

“Look at how cute you are, (Y/N). Your face is starting to get red!” she giggled, pointing as you hit her arm, feeling your cheeks warming against the cold winter air. “You know, they say the shy-est are usually the kinkiest…”

“Just leave me alone, Mina!” you embarrassingly whined, slapping a palm over her glossed lips before pushing her away. She lets out a few satisfied laughs before raising her hands up in capitulation, already knowing when to stop before you get irritated at her.

“Alright, I’m sorry, ‘kay baby?” she cooed, plump lower lips jutting out into a pout as she wrapped her arms around your waist.

“You keep teasing me,” you frowned and pushed her stubborn hands off of you before you began walking towards the train station.

“Cuz’ you’re so cute. You’re always acting like such a virgin,” her arm hung over your shoulders and your body sunk forward at the sudden weight.

“Now, is there a problem with that…” you spoke lowly, flickering your sight towards her, wary of her reaction.

“You cannot be shitting me?!” Mina widened her eyes, two elder couples turning their attention on her egregious tone, “I mean like, look at you! You’re so pretty and such a good girl. Who wouldn’t want you?! I want you!”

“I don’t know…I just haven’t met the one.”

“There’s tons of guys who want you, (Y/N)! You gotta be a little bold, get out of your shell if you wanna meet ‘your one’.”

“Man…I just wish someone perfect for me who isn’t a creep would come to me,” you sighed, your hand holding onto Mina’s dangling one over your neck. Nearing the station, you could see Kai, her boyfriend already waiting by the entrance for her—probably heading to dinner together later on.

“You’ll find one for sure,” she glanced at you, a bright reassuring smile on her face, and you returned her one before feeling the weight on your shoulders lifted when she pulled her arm away, then waved at Kai.

“So, how was work today?” the male strode over, his two hands reaching out to hold Mina’s from the pockets of his coat before turning to greet you.

“It’s fine, lots of couples today,” she replied, following as you passed the ticket gate and rode the escalator up to the platform. “And as usual, we got a few single lads asking for our pretty girl’s Line today.”

“Yeah, and you forgot to add that they’re either delinquents or high school boys,” the two couples chortled as you sighed, tired of how you’re always attracting guys who are definitely not your type.

“We’re gonna have to get security for our candy shop because of our (Y/N), huh?” Mina joked, nudging Kai’s side with her shoulder as you rolled your eyes.

Within seconds, the bells signaling the coming arrival of the train started, the train announcer apprising the next destination as Shinjuku-sanchōme—20 minutes until you reach your home station.

“Sorry, (Y/N). Kai and I are gonna ride another train to Shinbashi so we can’t go in with you,” the train had arrived and the doors slid open as workmen and women surged in like sea waves.

“No, no! It’s fine. Happy holidays, guys,” you smiled as you began to follow the crowd into the half-packed train.

“Merry Christmas, (Y/N)!” the two bid, Mina waving all the while.

“Enjoy your trip to Ginzan, you two!” you giggled, slightly waving back before jumping onto the train just as its doors began to slide close. The smell of heater and sweat filled your nose and as you swiftly scanned your sight around, you saw most smiling at their phones, probably texting their loved ones, and a few couples giggling in their seats.

Another lonely Christmas, you thought.

Your stomach was growling as you prowled the streets for the nearest convenience store. The sky was already blanketed with darkness and you thought visiting any restaurant would only mount your forlornness, so you figured a quick meal from the store would do for your hunger.

The luminously salient sign of your local convenience store caught your eyes from a distance away, and you hurriedly scorched towards the store. Entering, the cashier greeted you when the automated door slid open with a ding to announce your presence, and you nodded your head with a smile before trodding your way to the back where packed bentos were.

Your eyes raked over the bentos, looking for your favourite Katsudon to find it absent from the display. A surge of annoyance rose in you as your brow knitted into a frown, ‘Can’t even have my Katsudon, huh?’. Grabbing the nearest bento instead, you made your way to the cashier while rummaging through your bag for your wallet.

“Do you want your bento heated up, miss?” the male mooted, a serviceable smile on his face. He caught your affirmative hum before setting the food in the microwave, and silence then transpired between the two of you.

The smell of the heating fried rice pervaded through the air in the wake of the anticipated ‘ding’. The cashier took out the bento and wrapped it in a plastic bag before handing you both the plastic and a card, “Thank you for your purchase, and Merry Christmas!”

You thanked the male and claimed your things before heading out of the store with another ‘ding’, throwing the card into the plastic bag and burying your hands deep in the warmth of your pockets.

What seemed to be your wontedly peaceful route back home suddenly became a path of silent lonesomeness. At that moment, you must be colder than anyone else in Japan. While they have the love and heat of a lover to warm them up—you had no one but yourself.

The walk home was longer than usual and you immediately turned on the heater when you entered your apartment, feeling your limbs beginning to numb. Taking out a few beer cans from the fridge, you set them on the small chabudai along with your cooling packed dinner—ready to scarf down your meal.

It took you an empty bento box and two beer cans to notice the Christmas card the cashier gave you on the wooden floor, probably dropped when you took the packaged meal out of the plastic bag. You could feel yourself getting tipsy as the alcohol set in your veins, rushing to your brain and making it all light and woozy.

“Christmas…Wish?” you read the bold, cursive title aloud, eyes absorbing the contents on the card.

Write a wish on this card and Santa shall grant what you seek!

Aren’t these for kids or something? Why would the cashier give you something like this? It’s obviously fake, but for you to think of a wish…you would love to be a millionaire. Or a billionaire. Or have a pet cat. Or…

Heading to your bedroom to get your pen, you trodded back to the chabudai where the card was, taking your time to ruminate on what to write just for the fun of it. Perhaps it was the alcohol thumping in your pulse, absorbing whatever sense you have in your head as it passed your bloodstream—you found yourself injudiciously scribbling something you normally wouldn’t.

Lose my virginity.

Fire popped beneath the skin of your cheeks as you stared at the piece of card with your writing on it. “I must have gotten insane…” you sighed, rubbing your eyebrows.

Maybe a wash would clear your head, you thought. The beer was making you drowsy and you’d better have an early night. You don’t take long with your shower and you were quick to set your things aside and take out the trash.

It was only 10 but you’ve already settled yourself in your bed, sleepiness blanketing over your head. Your eyelids began to shut, sending you to an abyss of peace and dream.

Then, there was shuffling. And mumbles.

Your consciousness drew back to reality and through your dazed state—you tried to make sense of the noises. Until you began to sober up, there was no one but you in your apartment. No pets nor roommates to be making up all these sounds.

“Who’s there?” you panicked, straining your eyes through the dark, to find a tall silhouette in your room. A sense of aghast rumbled through your being and a shriek ripped itself out of your throat.

You fumbled for something from your bedside table to act as a weapon, and the most threatening object there was was your lamp. At least you could smash it against the intruder and bolt out of your apartment for help.

And as you tried to rip the lamp’s cord out of the socket, its light turned on—revealing the stranger to be…Santa?

“(Y/N), is it?” the male chuckled, rubbing his nape.

“Who are you?!” you screamed, pointing the lamp at him. “Get out of my house, please!”

“Just relax, man. I’m Santa, here to grant you your Christmas wish!”

“Look, I’m just a broke college student! I-I don’t have anything with me. Just leave and I won’t call the cops,” you tried to reason, already starting to break down into hiccups and tears

“Well, I'm sorry. It’s my policy to not leave a house unless I’ve successfully fulfilled one’s desires. So, I won’t be leaving anytime soon!”

“W-What…?” you were beyond dumbfounded, trying to make sense of the random lunatic standing in your room.

“This,” he pointed at the card from the convenience store. “Here, your wish says…to lose your virginity,” the male cladded in his Santa suit bemusedly read aloud.

“No…! I wrote that as a joke!”

“Well, I don’t take Christmas wishes as a joke,” he lifted an eyebrow, resting his hands on his hips.

“Just cut it out, Santa isn’t real,” you retorted, tightening your grip on the handle of the lamp.

“But I am real,” his voice suddenly became closer, and more lucid, his frame had disappeared from your sight—as if he was suddenly gone and had dissipated into space. Whipping your head behind, you found him just there and a scream cracked out of your lungs as you tumbled out of your bed.

“H-How…Wha—“

“I can teleport, y’know?” he smiled, reaching out a hand to pull you up from the floor. “And I can make anything out of thin air,” his other hand rose to have a random Dior bag in his grasp as you stared, shocked and finding it hard to register the scene in front of you.

“So, you’re really…Santa Claus?”

“Yes, and my real name’s Gojo Satoru—at your service,” he slurred, and you found his voice smooth like freshly woven silk. You were silent and still, eyes widening at the white-haired male in front of you. “Speaking of your Christmas wish…”

Your face burst into florid red as you awkwardly laughed, “Could you please just forget about that?”

“Now, if you’ve read carefully; no changing or refusing of wishes once you’ve written ‘em down,” he pointed at the small text at the bottom of the card, “You must’ve missed it just now.”

Thinking over the situation, something in you cracked as you realised—you were going to lose your virginity to Santa Claus. Your eyelids twitched as you nervously chuckled. This gotta be a heck of a joke.

“Hey, don’t underestimate me!” Gojo had caught your expression, and as if he was reading your thoughts, his eyebrows knitted into a frown.

“T-Then what are we supposed to do now?” you asked, switching your gaze away and feeling hot embarrassment tickling your skin.

“No need to worry,” Gojo gave a reassuring smirk, “just trust me.”

Alright, trust.

You felt the bed shift with his weight, and he was hovering over you—face mere inches away. His eyes seemed to sparkle like those of a diamond; blue stars orbiting in his orbs, and you note the plump shape of his lips, so visually kissable.

For the second time, as if he had caught your thoughts, he let his lips mould into yours. He felt soft and plump like peach, and he smelled like a merge of snow and warmth.

Your lips danced in the dark, and your body leaned forward towards him as he fell back, something about the kiss was unbreakable. It felt so soft, it felt so good.

You let his hands wander around your curves from underneath your pyjamas, meet the shape of your hips and dips of your waist, then the roundness of your breasts. You let him study your body with the cold tips of his fingers and slip your clothes off when he wanted to.

A soft moan slipped out of your tongue when the cold December air hit your nipples, and Gojo took no time to let his tongue play with your buds. His hands continued to roam around your body, pressing a finger against the wet spot through your pants.

“You fine with this?” he pointed at the way his fingers slid over your clothed core. You wordlessly nodded, drifting your sight away before you felt yourself benignly pushed onto your back, your pants slowly slipping off of your legs along with your panties.

You were bare, in front of a man you’ve met tonight. But at the same time, you felt oddly safe with him. This was only a wish come true and nothing more, you affirmed.

His long fingers began to reach deep inside, and your nerves tingled at where they caressed your walls. His pace switched after a few pumps and his fingers were dextrously pistoning in and out of your cunt. You could hear your erotic slick coating his digits as it follows his rhythm, and your cheeks burn hot in shyness.

His face lowered to your pussy, and his tongue began playing with your clit. A sharp mewl escaped from your lips as his cheeks hallowed from sucking on your nub and his fingers paced up over the gummy spot deep inside.

Pleasure began amassing in your nerves and you could feel yourself brimming over the edge of lucidity. Gojo didn’t stop and instead, fastened his digits in and out of you, the sound of sex was loud through your state of delirium and he was coaxing all the pleasure there was in you.

Then, you spilled. Your thighs tightened around his head, fingers gripping onto his white locks as you’re sent to a world of blank bliss. Gojo peeks up at you as you pause with your lips parted, edges of eyebrows sewn to the stars, and half a wail stayed choked in your throat.

“You alright?” he chuckled, raising his upper body to your blushed face. You didn't say a word and drove your tongue into his mouth, arms locking him closer to you. The shared heat between your two bodies warmed the air around you, and you thought maybe that’s what it feels like to have a lover.

“Yeah,” you breathed, still ever so shy yet for once, a daring timbre crawled through your tone. “I think I’m ready…”

“If princess wants it,” his lips crack into a smile against yours, pants pulled down and hand pumping his length, fat tip lined against your entrance. Peeking down, regret almost settled into your being when you saw his size. Would it fit?

Then, he saw you and reassured you that he would go slow. No need to worry and to trust. So, you did. Bashfully spreading your thighs open for him.

Your muscles squeezed when he first entered, and he let out a long groan with a pause to his hips. It took a few seconds until he began to move, this time with a thumb rolling your clit to loosen your grip. Every inch of his cock stretched into your cunt made you go almost insane—the pain that first came was soon replaced with a delicate buzz of pleasure.

His hips were slow to thrust at first, gentle and soft until your walls had adjusted to his girth. Your little moans began to fill the chilly air when he slowly started to quicken up, and the bed began to squeak along with his rhythm.

“You look so pretty, y’know?” like silk, slinking through the hot air and into your ears. Every time his curved tip kisses your G-spot, you feel blank—blank of pleasure and stimulation. He could see it in your face, always able to read your features so well.

“Mmhp—” you let out a moan when he pulled your hips closer to him, fucking deep into your squelching cunt. Your back arched from the way his cock rubbed against your walls, hands over your mouth to muffle your whines.

“I wanna hear your pretty moans, (Y/N),” Gojo teased, softly leading your hands into his before fucking himself harder, deeper inside of you.

“Nngh! Feels s-so good—haa!” your hips began to move with his, legs hugging him closer to you and the world seemed to be on vertigo. Pleasure pervaded through every single cell in your body and your blood was pumping loud in your ears. “Please, I wanna cum!”

“Whatever princess says,” you could hear the smirk in his quivering tone, and with a few deep thrusts, the coil inside of your womb snapped—and your essence wet his thighs; your shaky moans high-pitched and sharp. “Yeah, pretty girl. Just like that.”

Static shot through your nerves, and your clit throbs against the hot air. Gojo let a thumb circle your nub, rubbing it through your climax as your nails sink into the skin of his arm. You could feel the warm mix of cum slipping out of your lips, running down your skin and into the bedsheet.

Once again, you felt the bed shift, and the warmth that held you lifted away. Through your hazy sight, you saw his figure rising, “Merry Christmas, pretty.”

@coolpizzazonkplaid @byhuenii @idkmanimreallysleepy @stainednailpolishremover @jxnyi @peachtreexoxo @yaygurist @lalaloverss @aexlime @naruucore @sathavious @guillermowhatwedointheshadows @mistygrovesarchive @glittercums @altmoo @lollixgoddess @victoriak01 @kimminjulvr @ghostlyluminarycloud @satorminniett @someonewhotendstowrite @buhdussy @ichirasblog @kokomisworld @magiouu @bobbicore @xxshiino @urmommyzhot @jjkwhor3 @erostaeyong @tojisprincesa @edgyficuselastica @clemianna @fromthechaoticmind @idkcoolise @fallinlovewithbeelzebub @sirshitsalot12 @kuraa01 @awyunh @lxvegojo

1K notes · View notes

saiidahyunie · 17 days

Text

fight night

hirai momo x f!reader

synopsis: momo makes sure you hit the canvas, and the bed.

warnings: strap-ons ; breeding kink mentioned ; just dirty, filthy, disgusting smut >:)

a/n: started writing this at around 10 am btw

“i want another round! let’s go for another round!”

despite how enthusiastic it sounded, it certainly won’t be the last time you hear that sentence tonight.

“momo,” you call out to her from the opposite corner of the ring, raking your hand through your slicked hair, muddled with all of the sweat procured from the intense sparring session you just went with her just now, “i thought i told you that i was only gonna do four rounds with you tonight.”

she tosses her headgear into the middle of the ring, a glove at her side with the wrist-wrapped hand sliding across the divot in her abs. “just one more bout, we’ll do a minute this time since it’s already late.”

watching your girlfriend move up the ranks in her weight class for the boxing division that she was competing for, in the slightest, was probably one of the most frightening experiences momo has put you through since the start of the relationship with her.

that being said, momo is, and always will be, a fighter - there’s even times where nothing else matters if she gets beat down to the ground by someone else because fighting is the only thing she knows how to do. she’ll get up, and keep going - to no end, even if her body is screaming against it at will, it’ll be until the very last bell when she gets her final say.

“fine, just this once only because ryujin isn’t here with you today.”

momo squeaked over before running across the opposite end to trap you in a hug, sweaty lips against yours while your free hand sweeps her lower back. she deepens the kiss but forces her weight on you, just enough for your back to meet the ropes, letting a small groan escape into her mouth.

you’re not the one at fault to get momo riled up with moments like these, but for the sake of your girlfriend’s sanity, you made sure to not be in the gym with her that much - especially with the goddamn sparring sessions because she’s always looking to see if you’re watching her beat or get beat.

a simple two tap out signals momo to stop for a second, landing another few kisses swiping your bottom lip, “fuck–momo, it’s not that big of a deal.” you say, calloused ridges of your palm feeling the subtle warm heat on her cheeks to the touch. “let’s get this last round in baby, then we can have our fun.”

“oh yeah?” momo challenges, her free hand beneath shorts kneading your ass, a light gasp of the chipped armor she finally manages to break, “and what do i get for knocking you out in sixty seconds?”

“well…” it’s a tempting proposition, she knows your body equally as hers. the subtle touches in areas that lifts that sly smile of yours, the moans that shake loose off her lips when you’re all over her aching, needy–

“if you can knock me out by then, i’ll be free of use for you when we get home.”

momo coos, finger and thumb at the peak of your chin when the soft chuckle leaves your lips. “i do like the sound of that.”

“if you don’t, then nothing will happen.” you add, pressing a finger to her chest, pushing her away to the other corner. “i’m not like your sparring partner ryujin, so i don’t plan to go easy.”

“you were never an easy girl to appeal to.”

“tell that to richard’s fighter that put a number on you three weeks ago.”

“oh, fuck you.”

“you probably will.” quipping, “headgear on, we don’t have all night.”

—

momo is structured, but always forgets.

and she definitely forgot about the right hander you had when she’s on the ropes.

stumbling out, and you’re laughing, mocking her. you’re all for the taunting and trash-talking. it’s something you picked up from momo’s trainer, jihyo, constantly berating her all of the different kinds of things that even whittled down to ‘you’re shitty because you’re fucking breathing!’ there’s so many stories you’ve herald from the other fighters in the gym, so you’re working your magic to get momo to let her frustrations out.

“you call that a southpaw? c’mon, where’s the momo that i know who can land a better hit than that?! is it because i’m your girlfriend and you’re giving me slack?”

momo wipes her chin, studying everything that you’re currently modeling right now. your left hand is up to your midsection, right hand lowered, shoulders slumped like they’re relaxed, skipping in place on the balls of your feet, staying light and quick. it’s only been ten seconds into the round and momo needs one way in.

“you’re all talk for someone that’s not a boxer.” she says, gloves hitting against each other signifying that she’s good to go.

“don’t go easy on me.”

you get complacent, momo surges forward with a low blow to your stomach. luckily your right hand swings forward to parry the hit before reeling back to the flying left hand momo sends after. right hook is sent to momo’s head and she takes it, good, shuffling back against the corner where you’re in the driver's seat. she has to play defense, and you have free reign with firing the relentless jabs to any open area on momo’s body.

momo’s hands shield her face, elbows protecting her stomach as best as she can while you’re sending a flurry of hooks left and right. she sees the window of opportunity when you’re sending another uppercut when she hits the area where your liver was at, making you slightly disoriented. that was the second she needed, and all of the sudden the momentum shifted in momo’s favor, sending a right hook, a left jab, two quick hit in the same area again before the haymaker right to the left side of your face.

that was momo’s strength, her fast reflexes and punches gave you little to no time to adjust and before you knew it, you’re doubled back on the canvas, falling to the right before rolling over and laying upwards.

—

you’re zipping up your duffel bag when momo hugs you from behind, with an ice pack in her hand. you hum at the peace offering, taking it and putting it on your forehead to soothe the pain from momo’s killer hook.

it was so cute to see your boxer girlfriend tend to your care and yes, she felt bad. she needed the motivation after taking that loss in that fight with the up and comer making a name for themselves in the boxing scene. the loss was hard for momo at the time and she really took it to heart, but like all things in life, we move forward.

“sorry,” momo says, palming your head while you give her a soft smirk, accepting her apology right away before she schpiels out on how - “i didn’t mean to hit you that hard, and you were giving me a lot of crap which was annoying and—”

“momo,” hand up to stop her from tumbling her words, “it’s fine. it’s okay, you gave me a run for my money.” and momo shuts up, defeated that she beat up her own girlfriend out of a bit of anger. “besides, you’ve been slacking since the third or fourth round, so you made it up with that.”

“did i?”

“you really couldn’t tell?” you ask her, tapping her cheek to cheer her up. “i could see it in your body language.”

“i know.”

“and i did challenge you to something, so i didn’t forget.”

“you also said that.”

lowering the ice pack from your forehead, you lean in for a chaste kiss. momo flings the small towel over her neck so that her hands can slide into your waist. the touch and feel of her hands all over you was comforting, eagerly like it’s the last thing she wants to lose on her mind: feeling you, tender lips, that breath caught from the bottom of your throat, hands on her neck keeping her gravity centered towards you.

momo being cool, swings the towel from her neck around to yours when you try to pull away, trying to keep her sanity in check before the booming call of lust shelters her heart for wanting, needing, satisfying. the lip lock and swipe of her tongue only makes you take into her, the downfall of that euphoric bliss flooding over you like a fucking flood, hands roaming freely over her soaked back.

she’s quick to attack your neck, inciting a soft moan–her favorite sound–from your lips before you tap her breast twice, pulling away with lidded eyes and the intertwining line of saliva now visible in the small space between heads.

“remember, free use.” you whisper, permissively, and momo is reminded of the reward she earned.

—

(look, it goes without saying: some things are quicker to come sooner than you actually realize. sure, the detailing of momo’s rough hand all over your thigh on the car ride back would be enough information with additional detail to suffice, but really - this is just the blip or flashforward in the event. besides, who really wants to speed things up in the rush of a fucked mind waiting to happen–

oh wait, that’s you.)

—

the term gentle is completely thrown out of the equation. it’s also apparent with the fact that your back hits the door leading into the shared bed of you and momo’s. arms are discarding things everywhere, you yelp into her mouth at the fact that she’s quick to rip off that large shirt in one take, pushed onto the bed while momo slips out of her leggings and shirt - she never liked the idea of wearing bras especially when it came to going out (risky, but she could care less.)

sprawled, you twitch at the reemergence of momo’s hands canvasing your body, exposed and open for her to drink in the sight.

“too stunned to speak?” you finally say, hands upheld like a model in a photoshoot, catching a glimpse of momo licking her lips ready to tear anything in it’s path. and you’d let her. take you in for something that’s cast aside and make you whole, like new. you’ve broken her down to the point where she could give you everything you wanted, and she will.

momo leans down, sinking by the feel of her lips on the little spot underneath your ear, eyes wobbling shut while you hum with a sound of satisfaction, melting into putty by the second. you know she likes this, to have control, to be in the front of this bout where she belongs because by the end of everything, you’ll be sputtering her name out like there’s no tomorrow.

“i’m gonna use you to fuck myself in every way.” she stops to say down the canal of your ear.

fuck.

“how are you gonna do that?” eyes tracking her silhouette in the darkness while your hands nestle themselves over your chest, thighs pressed together to sate the ache that’s bothering between your legs. “tell me more baby, i wanna know all of the things that you’re gonna do to me.”

“you said free use, so i’ll do anything to get myself off to you.”

“anything?”

“don’t make me repeat myself.”

fuck.

you lean back as deep as you can, momo elevates herself over your body, and your hands naturally find their way clutching her ass, dropping kisses up her inner thigh. not even letting her speak, but already ahead of the curve of what she wanted.

“you-fuck, i fucking hate-” momo snaps, trying to ignore the humming of momo’s skin laving your tongue at the moment, gripping your hair suddenly to stop you before pressing your head back into the mattress. “always having your way with things, huh?”

“got a problem?”

“this is your doing. now open.”

“mo–”

she shuts you up with the harsh grinding of her cunt at max speed, the subtle slide of her wetness soaking onto your face. she tastes good, there’s no denying that, but shit the post-workout meal and shower can wait, because this was entirely better than whatever was the initial plan before coming home.

“yeah–yeah, yeah, yeah, hng–fuck, y/n.” momo gasps out while her hips buckle from the pressure, dropping forward while your hands hook around the midpoint of her hips and legs meeting, giving you an anchor for you to pleasure her. momo looks from under, only seeing the top of your head, moving left and right repeatedly, cupping your face while you keep your head up into her cunt.

“christ baby, your fucking mouth–”

“mmmmph.” you manage to say, mouth full of pussy that grips your tongue so well. you could lose and back out now, flip her over and just fuck momo, but she knows that you’ll do the honor system justice, staying true to your word. momo’s fingers are on her clit, nearing that peak she desperately deisred, shooting up right again and forcefully fucking your face with her cunt, whining and whimpering before she clenches her legs against your head, as if it was a watermelon in between, screaming.

momo collapses behind, ass on your stomach while she tries to recover from her climax, chest heaving while lickking the slick off of your face, sucking shamelessly and the noises that momo hears coming out of your mouth are completely fucked, she’s just left staring.

there’s a pause, an intermission that only lasts for a few seconds - that fucking pit stop that sounds stupid as it is, and momo has something in her hand that sends your cunt aching again for more.

a vision–a vision out of your wildest dreams. there was only one instance of this occurring and count yourself fucking lucky, because it’s happening again.

“please,” you’re asking momo, the urgency of fulfilling your fantasies coming to life again-you’re gonna do it right? right? a break in the script to rewrite it into something new. “i know you’ve been waiting for–”

“jesus fucking christ, y/n.” momo swears, sounding helpless, but the feeling of it has never felt better. “you’ve been waiting for this to happen again, haven't you? for me to use this in your poor little pussy for my own sake. always getting what you want–”

fuck. fuck. fuck. for fuck’s sake godddamnit–shit–

“please,” you’re asking again. “free use baby, just use me. this pussy is yours to ruin.”

momo lets the urge finally take over, splitting your legs apart before diving in to get some of that craving that she’s been holding herself back for a bit, spitting on your cunt before slipping a finger in your folds. you’re squirming at your touch, mind racked with the unnecessary teasing that’s pulling on you, to get riled up before–

“you want it so bad don’t you.” the head of the silicone cock tapping along your walls, dipping an inch just for good measure, and jesus you’re already annoyed by it. “i’m gonna ram this little pussy of yours.”

she slides - all the way in. you don’t even know if this was real life or a dream.

the languid moan of being filled up to the brim, slick coating the plastic in you like it’s the one thing that only matters and for this time, it did. momo strokes out before letting the first rail back leaves you choking for a second. “my little slut enjoying this now?”

“god, momo, ma-” you barely manage, shimmying down on momo’s silicone cock, fucking yourself down the length, cunt gripping with all of its strength. momo internalizes this, testing the limits of how much your pussy could handle, but why play it safe - that’s not the whole point of getting here in the first place.

“how does my cunt feel, ma’am?” you ask, wanting everything from momo, waiting for her to give it a few blinks to settle. starting with more fewer strokes, then upping the tempo, and up, and up–

“you look amazingly pretty,” momo breathes out, coming as a growl in your ear when she lays on top of you, hips hitting that spot inside you perfectly, the sounds coming out of you for momo to hear only makes her want more. she’s going slow, deep, soft, and then–

“harder, ma’am. please. just fuck me.”

she gets you. it doesn’t take much for momo to give in, letting the strap swallow you up in the same repeated manner. the beat of momo’s heart synchronizing with yours while the slaps of skin fill up the dim room. there’s steady pace, the back and forth banter of grunts and moans leaving yours and momo’s lips.

your pupils are blown out, half smiling, half gasping, looking up with every bit of strength left to see momo turn you undone. “so–hn, fuck–yes, i can’t–keep dicking me like that.” you croon, the sharp inhale leaving your lungs as momo’s strap sinks into you again and again and again and again.

“imagine how good–” momo breathes out, “if i had a real dick, instead of a strap?” and the delirium tumbles down. “stretching you out so good–so well. my perfect slut.”

“god, momo, i–”

“you’re perfect for me. my fucking cocksleeve.”

in the name of the lord of heaven above.

“such a good girl, my good slut, god, i want to stay inside you forever.”

your eyes meet hers, smiling astonishingly beautiful while being fucked. “is this what you wanted?”

“y-y/n—”

your legs wrap around momo’s hips, keeping the pace up of her thrusting inside of you. “filling me up? the idea of cumming inside of me so badly? dumping so much to the point that you could leave a baby in me instead of this plastic strap?”

momo nods, not letting up her strokes, fucking you fast and deep, slamming like it took everything out of her. “breeding…” momo husks out, “sounds so fucking good…”

“c-close, mo. i’m shaking.”

“cum for me darling, you’ve earned it.” momo says to you, lips on yours again while she continues to fuck her strap into your tiny cunt, slowing her pace when she feels you clenching around the plastic. she’s quick to knead your breasts while you’re sobbing, savoring the feeling while the lingering orgasm leaves your hips.

momo lets out something breathy, unrestrained, relaxing when she hears the whinpers leave your lips, sliding her strap out of your well-fucked pussy. you have a sleepy smile in appreciation mixed with satisfaction when she hobbles over to your side, arms scooping you into an embracing hug while you’re leaving peppered kisses on one side of her chest.

“amazing.” you barely say, and momo just chuckles.

“we’re definitely doing this again.”

#hyunie #kpop imagines #twice imagines #momo x reader #twice x reader #hirai momo #twice momo #twice smut #momo smut #kpop smut #gg smut

460 notes · View notes

coldfanbou · 4 months

Text

Crowded

We continue on with the Mommy series, for which I have yet to decide a name. What was going to be a simple lunch date got interrupted by a load of guests.

Length 3.4K

Mina x Momo x m reader

Previous Part

Next Part

You wake up in bed, stretching your body after a good night's sleep. Today was Saturday, meaning that you could spend the day relaxing. You turn onto your side and grab your phone from the nightstand. You see a few message notifications from Jihyo as well as Dahyun. Dahyun’s message read, “Thank you for last night. It was great; I’d love it if you could pick me up every day, and I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time. I’d like to make it up for you sometime.” You smile at her message, writing back that you don’t mind using your time with her and when you’ll pick her up.

Looking at Jihyo’s message, it was more of an invitation. “Hey, I’m free today if you want to hang out. Maybe do something naughty? Text me back if you’re interested.” A winking face to end the message tells you everything you need to know. You sit up in bed and consider your options. While you wanted to see Jihyo, you also wanted to rest after a week's work. You decide to answer later. You leave bed and cook breakfast before deciding to head out.

Pulling out your phone as you walk around the block, you text Jihyo back. “What did you have in mind?”

“Oh, you’re interested?” Jihyo responded; you could imagine the smirk on Jihyo’s face as she typed that message. “Consider it a business date; we’ll go out and have lunch together. It’ll be nice to just talk to each other. Or would you rather take me back to your place to treat me to something better? Maybe something long and hard?”

You chuckle and shake your head at her text before agreeing to meet her. You had nothing else to do, so it would help fill the time. Jihyo tells you where to meet and sends you a picture. It was one of her tits. Jihyo had her arm under them, pushing them up and making them seem bigger. You quickly get back to the home screen and continue your walk. Once you return home, you prepare for your date and relax until it’s time.

Jeongyeon, around this time, was out shopping. Her mind was filled with thoughts, the revelation of Dahyun and Jihyo spending time with you getting on her nerves. She pushes her baby along in her stroller, looking down at her child’s sleeping form. She gives them a soft smile. Jeongyeon runs her hand along her baby’s chubby cheeks. Her smile turns to a frown as she’s reminded of her husband. “Maybe I should di…” Jeongyeon stops herself from completing that sentence. She shakes her head and continues going around the stores, eventually bumping into you as you head to your date. “It’s you.” She says softly, her hands rising to her chest as she gives you a bright smile.

“It’s nice to see you, Jeongyeon. What are you doing around here?” You ask.

“I was just out shopping with Jieun.” She says, pointing to her sleeping baby. You take a look at Jieun and smile.

“She’s cute. Looks a lot like you.”

“Thanks. What are you doing around here?”

“Oh, Jihyo invited me to lunch.” You tell her, just as you hear someone call your name. You both turn your head toward the voice, seeing Jihyo walking over. Jihyo and Jeongyeon make eye contact.

“Jeongyeon! It’s been a while.” Jihyo says as she hugs her friend. “I didn’t expect you to be here. How are you?”

“I’m doing fine. I was just taking Jieun out for a walk and happened to bump into him. I hear that you’re eating together.” Jeongyeon replies. There’s a slight pause as Jihyo thinks about what to say.

“Yes, we ran into each other a little while ago. You didn’t tell me he moved into the city; were you trying to keep him for yourself?”

Jeongyeon is taken aback by the question. She knew Jihyo knew that the question was meant to get information out of her. “I-I”

“I got transferred over here and happened to work next to her. I didn’t know you lived here, too.” You interrupted solely because you didn’t want to be left out of the conversation.

“Between us, when was the last time you two had sex?” Jihyo says, a mischievous smile on her face.

“It wasn’t that long ago, a few days ago with Sana. Right, Jeongyeon?” Jihyo looks surprised by your answer.

“With Sana? She knows about how naughty you’ve been?” Jeongyeon looks a little more uncomfortable.

“Yeah, it was a threesome. She just ran into us when we went out for ice cream.” Jeongyeon grows quieter. She feels defeated giving away all the information, knowing the last time she was together with you was a threesome; she feels lesser. Jeongyeon figured that Jihyo had you for herself not too long ago.

“Hey! Is that really you two?” The conversation is again broken as you see Sana running toward your group. It wasn’t just her; in tow were two other women. Jeongyeon and Jihyo look a little less than pleased. In Jeongyeon's mind, the last thing she needed was for Sana to see her with you, especially after everything she had just said. For Jihyo, it meant more competition as she saw the two women with her, Momo and Mina. “It really is you two. We almost have the whole group together again. We’re just missing Nayeon.” Sana sees the three of you together and pauses for a moment. “Did I walk in on something?” she says, trying to hide that she doesn’t like Jeongyeon being with you.

Jihyo takes the time to explain things to you. “Ah, I don’t think you’ve met them. This is Momo, and that’s Mina.” She says, motioning to each woman. “All of us and Nayeon went to college together. I haven’t seen these three in a long time. I usually only see Jeongyeon and Nayeon. Nayeon hasn’t popped up in a while, though.” You give her a nod of understanding before bowing at Momo and Mina.

“Ooh, you’re pretty handsome. Are you single?” Momo immediately asks, leaning in to show you her cleavage. Mina smacks Momo’s shoulder out of embarrassment. “What was that for!? You think he’s cute too, don’t you?” Mina’s face turned red, and she looked away. “Anyway, what are we doing? How about we eat? It’s been a while since we’ve talked.”

“Oh, well, he and I were about to have lunch toge-” Jihyo’s cut off.

“Perfect, we’ll join you,” Momo responds, forcing herself into the date along with the others. Momo walks between you two, hooking your arms and dragging you along to a restaurant. With the entire group in tow, you’re introduced well to Momo and Mina. Momo was much more outgoing and outspoken, while Mina was the exact opposite. You watched the group talk mostly, listening in on what they did in their time at college. Jeongyeon and Jihyo sit on either side of you. Jeongyeon snakes her hand onto yours, getting you to hold her hand as she bounces her baby on her lap. You glance at her; she smiles at you for a brief second. You felt a hand on your lap and looked over at Jihyo. She has a sly smirk and types a message with her free hand. “This isn’t what I had in mind.” You see in a text from her. The lunch goes along with the ladies drinking. If you learned anything, it was that Jihyo had a high tolerance for alcohol. Jeongyeon was the first to leave, needed to get home. Sana was the next one, having had more than enough to drink. That left Jihyo, Momo, and Mina. While Jihyo and Momo had a lot to drink, Mina kept herself relatively sober. She was tipsy but not drunk.

“I should take you all home. You’re in no condition to leave on your own.” You tell them. You help Jihyo up first, then Momo and Mina. Momo and Jihyo lean against your body as you pay their portions of the bill. Mina holds onto the back of your shirt and waddles along with you, struggling to keep up. You stumble your way to your car, Momo, and Jihyo’s weight making it hard to walk straight. Jihyo gives you directions to her home; her head sways as it seems to you she had too much to drink. She was falling asleep. After dropping her off, Momo and Mina tell you where they live. “So you two live together?”

“Yes, we thought it would be better to live together,” Mina replies as she looks out the window. “Thank you for driving us home.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. I’d be worried if something happened on your way home.”

“Right, we get that.” You get to their home, parking in front.

“Thank you for driving us,” Momo says in slurred speech. She pokes her head between the front seats and kisses you suddenly. “I knew you would taste good.”

Mina pulls Momo back, “Momo, what are you doing?”

“You know you want to have a taste of him, too,” Momo says before planting her lips on Mina. “What if we fucked him?” Momo says as she moves her hand between Mina’s legs. “Does that sound good to you?” She says, her question directed at you. The action in the backseats turns you on; you nod your head. “See, he’s interested. He wants to see the real you.” Momo says as she kisses Mina again. You can hear Mina’s whines now, and they’re making you hard. You step out of the car and help them out.

Momo grabs at your pants, leading you to her home. Mina closes the door as Momo takes you to the bedroom. Momo strips off your clothes as you do the same to her. Her bountiful bust was revealed to you as you slipped the dress she was wearing off her shoulders. Momo wore no bra, instead having pasties on her nipples, and she wore a pair of black panties. She throws her underwear away quickly and pushes you back onto the bed. Momo grins as she sees your hard cock. She grabs the tip and runs her tongue along the underside; it sends shivers down your spine. She flicks the head with her tongue before taking it into her warm mouth. She drools over it; her saliva runs down your shaft as she strokes it, spreading her saliva around. Her tongue swirls around the tip of your cock. Mina walks in to see Momo already getting to work. She slips off her dress, letting it fall to the floor, and gets beside Momo. You feel Mina’s lips on your balls, her small tongue moving around them.

Momo’s lips disappear from your cock as she crawls up to you. “I want you to see just who Mina is.” She whispers into your ear. Mina, seeing that your cock was now free, rubbed it against her face, covering herself in Momo’s spit. Momo runs her fingertip along your nipple as she watches. “See, Mina’s a real slut. Just one little taste, and you can have her wrapped around your finger.” You look down to see Mina’s face against your crotch, your cock in the back of her throat. Her tongue is lapping at your balls. She pulls back slowly and begins to bob her head. Mina’s small mouth was stretched to its limits; you could feel how tight they were pulled over your cock. “It’ll get much better once you see how she rides you. I’ll get my turn after.” Momo says as she gets onto her knees and moves by your head. “I might as well get something while I wait.” She says before planting herself on your face. Momo grinds against your face, thinking you wouldn't put in any work. When your tongue slips inside her, she jumps a little. You grab onto Momo’s waist and pull her back down. “Shit.” Momo moans as she places her hands on your chest to hold herself up. Your tongue pushes past her lips, rubbing against her walls as you try to find her G-spot. Momo’s thick thighs squeeze your head as she struggles to control her body. Her moans fill the room as she rocks back and forth on your face.

Mina continues to bob her head, her tongue running across the tip as she licks up your precum. She strokes your cock quickly, hoping to make you cum quickly. You were close to cumming a few moments later your cock began to throb. Mina reacted quickly, rubbing her face against your crotch as she deepthroated you. You buck your hips, hitting the back of her throat as you cum. Mina’s mouth filled with cum, more than she ever had, forcing her to back up and get a facial. Mina coughs as your cum rains down on her. Mina’s face is completely ruined, with saliva dripping down her chin and cum covering most of her face. Mina mounts you, placing your cock between her folds as she grabs Momo by her hair and pulls her into a kiss. Momo scoops your cum out of Mina’s mouth as they kiss. Momo moans into it; she tries to hold her climax but can’t. She breaks away, moaning loudly as your tongue finds her G-spot. Momo’s legs squeeze down on you, and she grits her teeth, whining.

Momo falls off to the side, her chest heaving as she recovers. She gets to watch Mina go crazy. Mina grabs your cock and points it at her cunt before dropping herself on it. She hums, feeling your cock splits her in two. “Oh god.” She cries as she begins bouncing on your cock without a second thought. “Shit, you’re so big.” She moans as she holds your thighs in order to help herself bounce. You grab Mina’s waist and slam her down on your cock, matching her energy. You buck your hips, going deeper into her pussy. Mina bites her lip and gives you a sly look. “I love a man who can fuck me like a whore.” She says, biting her lip. Holding Mina’s waist, you turn her onto her back. You grab her legs and put them over her head. Mina gives you a gummy smile before moans come flowing out of her as you pound her into the mattress. Momo snakes her way into the fold, attaching herself to Mina’s small tits and using her tongue on them.

Mina threw her head back, her senses becoming overwhelmed by the pleasure. “Deeper, deeper!” She cries out. You impale her with every thrust, giving Mina every inch of your cock. Momo has fun playing with Mina’s nipple, going as far as giving them small bites to make her squeal. Mina whimpers as she nears her orgasm, “I’m going to cum.” She moans, her walls clamping down around your cock. You speed up your thrusts, filling the room with the sounds of your bodies clapping against each other. Mina’s eyes roll into the back of her head as she cums, You let go of her legs, and she immediately wraps them around you. “Cum inside me.” She repeats over and over again. Your throbbing cock has Mina pushing you in deeper. “Cum inside my slutty pussy.” Mina shouts. You bury your cock, giving in to her demands as your cum floods her pussy.

You pull out once you’re finished and lay down on the open space of the bed. Your cock is soft as you try to recover, only to feel Momo rub your cock with her tits. “You’re lucky Mina was tipsy; alcohol tends to take away her energy. She’d be all over you normally.” Momo traps your cock between her large mounds, pumping your shaft with them. “I like to call that version of Mina, Sharon. It’s her English name. Now it’s just you and me.”

“Yeah, I guess so. She’s a real wild one.” You groan. Momo’s tits were soft; they cushioned your cock, it nearly felt like a fleshlight. You start getting hard, the tip poking through Momo’s tits. Momo wraps her lips around it, sucking on it as she individually moves her tits around your shaft. “Damn, you’re good.”

“Of course I am. You should hear all the stories about our little friend group.” Momo says, alluding to their time in college. Momo releases a light moan as she pops your cock out of her mouth. “You’re cum tastes good, but I don’t want to waste it on this mouth. I want it here.” Momo straddles you and spreads her lips, her pink pussy on full display. She keeps her lips spread as she presses the tip of your cock against her. “Mina was right. You are big. I hope you don’t break me.” She says, teasing you. Momo’s pussy swallows the head as she sinks down. Momo has a smile on her face as you begin to fill her cunt. “Fuck, I feel so full.” Momo groans as she finishes taking you inside. You reach up and pull on one of her nipples, making her moan. “You would like these; Jihyo was all over you during lunch.” Momo grinds against your cock as she adjusts to your size. You squeeze and grab at her soft tits in the meantime.

When Momo begins to move, you move your hands down to her hips, helping her bounce on your cock. Momo leans down, kissing you as she pushes your cock into her. You feel her hard nipples run across your chest as she moves. You glance at her cleavage, enjoying the way her tits swayed. You kissed Momo again, her soft lips melting into yours as she got closer to cumming. Your hands wander her body, moving from her toned back to her ass. You run your hands across her cheeks before giving them a light slap. Momo coos and tells you to do it again. You put more strength into your strike, making it sting for Momo. Her walls begin to tighten around your cock; you feel her squeeze down on the tip of your cock.

“You’re getting tighter.” You grunt as Momo comes back down on your cock.

“Let’s cum together.” Momo moans. You agree and spank Momo one more time before grabbing her waist and using her like a toy. Momo hums as she takes every inch inside her. “I want you to cum inside. It wouldn’t be fair if Mina got a creampie and I didn’t.” You chuckle at her words and promise to give her a big one. Momo pulls away from you, sitting up as she nears her climax. She grabs at her tits, squeezing them as she revels in her coming orgasm. You continue to drive your cock deep into Momo, impaling her on it as you blow your load inside her. Momo has a wide grin on her face as she feels your warm cum pour into her cunt. She grinds against your cock, getting every drop she can before getting off and laying beside Mina.

You say your goodbyes and get dressed to rest in your own home when Momo stops you, calling you over to her. “Here’s my number, handsome. Call me so we can have some fun again. I might as well give you Mina’s number, too. She’ll be cock hungry for a little while, so she might call you up.” You chuckle, wishing her a good night and heading home.

On your way home, you get a call from Jihyo and answer it. “Hey, sorry today didn’t go the way we planned it. I didn’t think everyone would be there.”

“Neither did I. Things just turned out that way.”

“Give me your address; I’ll just visit you if I have to.” You laugh in response, “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

“We can have a chat later. I’m driving home, so I gotta focus on driving.”

“Yeah, good night.”

“Good night, Jihyo.” As soon as you hang up the phone, you get another call, this one from Jeongyeon. “Hello, Jeongyeon?”

“Hi, are you free tomorrow?”

“I should be. Why do you ask?”

“I want to spend the day with you. I don’t want to just go to you for sex…can we talk tomorrow? I don’t feel comfortable doing it over the phone.”

“That’s fine, Jeongyeon. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #twice smut #momo smut #mina smut

873 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 5 months

Note

Hi Mae!! I would love to read more about the dynamic between poly!marauders and reader. Like maybe some domestic fluff just showing the interaction between the boys and with reader. I love the way you write true poly with the boys together too 🥹🤍

Hi lovely, thanks for requesting!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

“Shit!” Sirius hisses, another piece of popcorn splintering off his string. It’s nearly all cranberries at this point, and half the length of either yours or Remus’. “How are yours not breaking?”

“Patience,” Remus preaches, eyes on his needle as he slides it smoothly through yet another popcorn kernel.

“Sounds made up,” James scoffs. The remains of his own popcorn are littered about his lap and his fingers are stained pink with cranberry juice. His problems lie in inaccuracy as much as impatience, constantly getting ahead of himself and pricking his fingers rather than his target. Fortunately, Rugby Captain James Potter is no stranger to pain, so he only extends the injured finger towards where you sit on the floor for you to kiss each time before resuming his work.

“Completely agree.” Sirius is quick to hop on James’ half-constructed bandwagon. “They’re conspiring against us, keeping the real secrets of success to themselves.”

“They’re focussing on their work,” you say, grinning when Sirius’ foot nudges your shoulder meanly, “which is how they keep from messing up.”

“Cruel,” he murmurs, but you only hum, a wordless You know I’m right. And he does, because he goes quiet.

James could never stand silence. “It’s almost cold enough for a fire,” he remarks after nearly five seconds of it. “Maybe we could have one tomorrow?”

“You just want to chop firewood,” Remus accuses.

“I don’t mind,” you say quietly, looking down at your hands, and Sirius nods emphatically. Another piece of popcorn shatters in his hands, bits of it hitting your shoulder.

“Yeah, don’t deter him.”

“I don’t even get to chop it anymore since you started buying it at Tesco,” James complains, shooting Remus a resentful look. “Now I just want to watch fire. It’s the last caveman’s pleasure you’ve left me.”

You glance over, and Remus is looking downward, trying and failing to quell his smile. “Fine,” he relents. “We can pick some up tomorrow and have a fire.”

“Yes!” James leans around Sirius, planting a smacking kiss on Remus’ cheek. “Thank you.”

“S’no problem.” Remus has gone all soft and blushy. You and Sirius exchange a fond, knowing look.

“Hey, do you think we could pick up some of those gingerbread house kits while we’re there?” you ask the room. “We didn’t get a chance to do those last year.”

“Patience,” Remus reminds you, recovering. “It’s hardly the end of November, we’ve got a whole month for that.”

Your mouth pulls dissatisfiedly. “Yeah, but last year we thought the same thing and then we ran out of time.”

“You know what we should do?” James perks up. “Have a competition! Whoever makes the best gingerbread house in under an hour gets—”

“No,” you all say on top of each other.

You shake your head. “It’ll take all the fun out of it, Jamie.”

“You can’t put a time limit on creativity,” Sirius agrees. “Hey, I got three in a row!” He beams, holding his garland up for Remus’ approval, and the other boy appraises it for a second, nodding sagely.

“Well done.”

“Sorry,” you tell James, who’s still pouting after the hasty shut-down of his idea. “We can race at something else if you want to, but that sort of stuff is supposed to be more…”

“Peaceful,” Remus supplies, and you nod relievedly.

“Exactly.”

“S’fine,” James sulks. He sticks his needle through a cranberry, a pitiful whine escaping him when it comes out the other side harsher than he’d expected. He extends his hand toward you palm up, and you take it, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of his finger. “Mm, now here.” He leans down, tapping the corner of his mouth. You smile, pecking him sweetly on the lips. He tastes like the peppermint chapstick he uses this time of year, which you love and Sirius abhors (he thinks all mint tastes like toothpaste). “Alright,” James says, lips curving against yours, “now it’s actually fine.”

“Scoundrel,” Sirius accuses. “My poor darling, do you feel used?”

“Not terribly,” you admit, but it’s no deterrence to Sirius, who reaches down to haul you into his lap. Your garland trails after you, overlapping with his. You settle in contentedly.

“Who’s the scoundrel now,” James objects. “You can’t just move her about like she’s got no will of her own.”

You’re perfectly happy to be wherever they want you, but you aren’t going to say that. “Does anyone fancy a hot chocolate? I just got those peppermint marshmallows.”

Sirius makes a face. “No thanks. James, make the girl a hot chocolate.”

“Why me?” James objects.

“I’ll have one too,” Remus says.

“It’s her idea, why doesn’t she make them?”

“Because she,” Sirius says, weaving his arms under yours to resume stringing up his garland in front of you, “is occupied. Go on.”

James grumbles, but sets down his work.

“Sorry,” you say, making your eyes extra big. It’s half sincere apology, half completely unapologetic beguilement, and James cracks quickly, kissing your cheek to show he’s not really upset. Then he kisses Sirius too, just for fun.

“I wanted a hot chocolate anyway,” he says, heading into the kitchen.

You fall into an easy silence as he works, the kettle gurgling in the background while you relax against Sirius’ chest, nearly finished with your garland. You wonder if you should offer to do his for him, even though you know the other two will definitely make fun of you for letting him off the hook. You think you will anyway.

“Oh!” Sirius straightens, causing you to shift against him uncomfortably. He ignores the slighted look you send him, bringing a hand to your shoulder to hold you more securely against him. You’re easily pacified. “If you want to have a competition, you and y/n should have a race for who can wrap the most presents.” He looks at you. “You’re always saying you love wrapping, yeah sweetheart?”

The endearment only slightly softens the look you’re giving him. Must everyone try to ruin your holiday rituals with racing and competitions? You know he’s only brought it up out of selfishness, too; Sirius hates wrapping gifts, and this is just another way for him to push the labor off on James and you.

James, unfortunately, lights brighter than the tree you’d set up earlier that day. “Yeah!” He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet. Remus eyes the boiling water he’s pouring out at the same time warily. “What do you say, lovie? Maybe a couple of days before Christmas we can divvy up the presents that aren’t for us, then we just see who finishes first!”

“Didn’t you already lose that competition the other night?” Remus quips. Sirius erupts in laughter behind you, but James only shoots him a hostile look (or his version of a hostile look, more of a squint than anything) before his eyes flit back to you hopefully.

You roll your eyes, but this is one competition you think you might actually win. “Fine,” you say, smiling when he pumps his fist. “But I don’t think you know what you’re getting into, Potter. My gift wrapping skills are legendary.”

“Oh, my love,” James croons, grinning as he carries in two mugs of hot chocolate. “My sweet, naive girl.” He passes one to Remus and the other to you, dropping a kiss on your temple. “I won’t go easy on you this time.”

849 notes · View notes

estrellami-1 · 4 months

Text

(Healing From the) Pain

Steve spent most of his life feeling pain. At this point, he characterizes his life by it.

The pain of a backhand, courtesy of his father, at six years old. His lip doesn’t split, but it’s a near thing.

The pain in his wrist when he falls wrong at nine years old. His parent won’t take him to the doctor initially, so he goes to school the next day. When the teacher notices, she sends him to the nurse, who calls his parents. They’re upset at him. He doesn’t know why, but he promises them it won’t happen again.

The pain all over at fourteen when he gets into wrestling. He’s good, manages to pin his opponent four times out of five.

The pain at sixteen, getting his face bashed in by Jonathan Byers. Then the demogorgon, and really, Steve is just a walking bruise at that point.

Then there’s the Russians. The less said about that, the better. The only silver lining is Robin.

Now he’s trailing behind Dustin, breaking into Reefer Rick’s boathouse, and Steve is sure this is going to end painfully.

He’s shoved against the wall, something sharp against his neck, and he thinks he was right as he groans.

The something sharp against his neck digs in as he looks Eddie Munson in the eye, and a few things happen simultaneously.

Eddie drops the shard of glass, steps back with a gasp, and brings his hand up to his own neck.

Steve blinks at him, thinks there’s no fuckin’ way, and stoops to scoop up the piece of glass and test it.

He presses the point into his left palm. Eddie reaches out to stop him, then flinches away.

“Well,” Steve says, because finding his soulmate in a boathouse was not on his Bingo card for this year, but here he is, with the burning brand of a soulmark on his neck to prove it.

Eddie skitters back, breathing growing heavy, looking around with wild eyes. He doesn’t seem to see Dustin, and something snaps in Steve’s chest.

He drops the glass and steps forward. “Dustin, out,” he says, and something in his voice must be different, because Dustin doesn’t hesitate before closing the door behind him. “Eddie,” Steve says softly. “You’re okay. It’s alright. I know you didn’t kill Chrissy.”

Eddie glances at Steve’s neck, then his hand, before looking away. Something else breaks open in Steve’s chest. “I’m not mad,” he admits quietly. “Eddie, please. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He steps forward again, hope unfurling in his chest when Eddie doesn’t move. He takes another cautious step, then another, until finally he’s in front of Eddie.

Still being cautious, he raises a hand, well within Eddie’s line of sight, and lets it rest gently on Eddie’s forearm.

Eddie flinches violently, but doesn’t move away. Steve takes it as permission and places his other hand on Eddie’s other forearm. He gently rubs them up Eddie’s arms until they’re resting on his shoulders. “You’re shaking,” he whispers, swiping a thumb up and down the side of Eddie’s neck. The something in his chest heals a little.

“Y-you’re-”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, still whispering. “I am.”

“How-”

Steve shrugs. “I don’t know. I don’t really care. I’m just- is it weird if I say I’m glad I found you?”

Eddie manages a hysterical bray of a laugh. “A girl died on my ceiling, man, this is not the weirdest part of my day.”

Steve nods. “Let’s go back to my place,” he suggests. “It’ll be a lot easier to hide there, no one will think to look for you, and we can explain everything.”

Eddie takes a breath. Another. Lets his fingers trail along Steve’s arm. Nods. “Okay,” he whispers.

“Okay,” Steve whispers back, smiling a little, and Eddie copies him. His chest heals a little bit more, and suddenly Steve knows everything’s going to work out just fine.

Permanent Taglist: @justforthedead89 @ilovecupcakesandtea @madigoround @bookbinderbitch @suddenlyinlove @nburkhardt @artiststarme @paintsplatteredandimperfect @i-less-than-three-you @alyelf @quarble @messrs-weasley @littlewildflowerkitten @vankaar @starman-jpg @bornonthesavage @steddie-there @goodolefashionedloverboi @mischivarien @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @platinum-sunset @just-ladyme @steddiestains @swimmingbirdrunningrock @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @martinskis-lydias @notaqueenakhaleesi @sleepyboosstuff @bestwifehaver @m-owo-n @thatonebadideapanda @finalmoondragon @velocitytimes2 @callmeanythjing @ajeff855 @ilikeititspretty @knitsforthetrail @sillysparrow @that-one-corvid @ace-is-bored @inadequatecowboy @harpymoth @weirdandabsurd42

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #soulmates #soulmate au #at this point I can’t tell if this is any good anymore #this is NOT a part one to something #it is its own standalone fic #starambles

622 notes · View notes

sweetercalypso · 7 months

Text

Texas Hold ‘Em || Joel Miller

Summary: when a heatwave interrupts your lake house vacation, you and dbf!Joel find another way to have some fun

Word Count: 2.4k

Notes: minors dni; stripping, blowjob, unprotected p in v sex, pull-out method, reader on top, implied age gap, afab reader, mentions of alcohol and drinking

Summer in Texas is hot.

Cracked asphalt sidewalks burn underfoot, paired with sharp, dry grass that pricks at your skin when you stray off the path in search of relief.

The sun is too bright, the air is unbearably warm, and the humidity is enough to take your breath away.

Days like this are best spent inside.

With an impending heat wave looming in the forecast, it seems like summer might pass by entirely before you have the chance to enjoy your break. Joel Miller – a drinking buddy your dad had picked up in recent years – had offered you a trip to his lakeside cabin with the promise that a cold drink and a dip in the water would be the perfect remedy for the high temperatures.

You’d arrived three days ago, and every afternoon since had brought a thick, sweltering heat that made it impossible to pull yourself away from the comfort of the living room. Even the calm, inviting waves lapping gently at the lake’s edge weren’t enough to tempt you back outdoors to fry under the brutal sun.

The only solution was to sulk inside, bitterly cherishing the tiny air conditioner working overtime to keep you cool. Joel didn’t seem outwardly bothered by the heat, but you could tell he preferred to stay indoors, too.

“S’posed to be in the high 90’s today,” he says, strolling into the living room with his attention turned to the vivid landscape beyond the patio doors. “But it’s so humid, it’ll feel like a hundred.”

You tip your head back and let out a dramatic groan, resenting the prospect of another day spent inside. You liked Joel, and his cabin was nice, but you wanted nothing more than to feel the sun on your skin, to be submerged in the cool, twinkling lake like you’d been promised.

“Can’t we go sit by the water, just for a little while?”

His mouth turns down at the corners, frowning as he thinks. “That’s up to you, darlin’. Just don’t want you gettin’ burnt up out there.”

You know he’s right. Even from the comfort of the living room, you could tell that it was too hot to venture outside. The handful of other cabins scattered around the lake were all vacant for the season, driveways sitting empty and abandoned canoes rocking idly at the pier.

“How ‘bout we find something else to do? Don’t have to sit here bored just ‘cause we’re stuck inside.”

Joel’s cabin was barely furnished beyond the necessities – an outdated kitchen, a stiff living room set, and a couple beds tucked away in otherwise empty rooms. But you couldn’t complain.

No one comes to a lake house to admire the décor.

He perches himself on the other end of the couch and you move to sit up beside him. “What d’you want to do?”

“Well,” he drawls, stalling as he looks around for an answer. “There’s cold beer in the fridge. Got a deck of cars around here somewhere. That could be a good start.”

“Beer and poker? Sounds like quite the party.”

“Hey,” he laughs, hands raised in mock offense. “It’s the best I can do for now.”

Your head tilts as you consider his offer.

Joel was handsome, aged like fine wine with a glint in his eye that spoke of a hidden depth you’d like to explore. Maybe you could have some fun this summer after all.

“All right,” you decide, slipping off the couch with newfound interest. “You find the cards, I’ll get the beer.”

Five minutes later and you’re sitting across the cabin’s small, circular kitchen table, dealing cards from the worn-out deck that Joel had pulled from the junk drawer.

“Poker, huh?” He grabs his drink by the neck of the bottle. “We don’t have any chips, though. How are we gonna know who wins?”

You place the rest of the deck to the side and pick up the two cards you’d been dealt, fingertips gliding over their frayed, softened corners. “I know another way we can play.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Instead of winning poker chips, whoever has the best hand picks something for the other person to take off. If you refuse, you lose.”

“So, strip poker?” he says with a dry laugh. “You’re not serious.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. Besides – as hot as it is, we don’t need clothes anyway.”

Joel shrugs and tips back his drink, thinking about the day you’d arrived at the cabin, still clinging to your hopes of having the perfect vacation.

Stubbornly glued to the beach towel you’d placed at the edge of the water, sweat glistening on your bare skin, donning a swimsuit that would’ve made a lesser man blush – he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t interested.

“Okay, fine.” He concedes and rests his forearms against the table, a wry grin pulling at his features. “But I’ll have you know, I’m very good at poker.”

Four rounds later, and Joel had yet to live up to his claim. Maybe it was just the luck of the cards, or maybe you’d spent enough time observing the man’s expressions to call his bluff, but you’d won every hand so far.

The first round was a close call – a full house versus three-of-a-kind. You’d chosen Joel’s watch to ease into the game, and he’d stared you down with a fire in his eyes as he placed it face-up on the table.

Next, you’d doubled down and won with an ace high, and Joel had been relieved of his shoes and his belt, which he’d dropped onto the floor with the promise of a comeback. The third hand played out the same way and you’d demanded his flannel, stealing glances at his toned arms as he handed over your reward.

By the fourth turn, you were reeling from the high of your winning streak and ready to make your move.

“I thought you said you were good at this, Mr. Miller.” You bat your lashes at him with an exaggerated simper as he deals out the next hand.

“I’m a pro, sweetheart. Just thought I’d let you have your fun.”

Throughout the round, your attention flickers back and forth between your cards and the man sitting across from you. Joel’s left with only his t-shirt and jeans to gamble away, and while you’re deciding which to relieve him of next, he slaps his cards down with a boisterous laugh.

“Well, would you look at that – a royal flush.”

A king and queen lay strewn out on the table, their stony, time-worn faces taunting you with their triumph. You’d been too distracted to notice that the community cards all shared a common suit, lining up perfectly with the cards Joel had been dealt.

He sucks in a slow breath and looks over you in careful consideration, debating what to take for his win. Finally, he gestures to your top and says, “take it off”.

Still shocked by the unanticipated loss, you place your cards down with a huff and shrug the thin material over your head without complaint. The sunlight glaring through the windows warms your exposed skin as you reveal yourself to Joel’s unwavering stare.

You toss your shirt at his chest and he catches it with a raised brow, eyes tracing over the curve of your breasts before trailing gradually back to your face. He adds your top to the growing pile of clothes littering the floor around his chair. When he speaks, his voice is low in his throat, like he’d finally understood your plan.

“Just beautiful, darlin’,” he says under his breath. “How ‘bout we raise the stakes a bit?”

“What’d you have in mind?”

His jaw tenses as he mulls over his options. “If I win, you come over here and use that pretty mouth for something other than trash talkin’. If you win, I’ll fuck you any way you want.”

You bite your lip to hold back the pleased grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. Either way, you’re bound to have a good time.

“Sounds like a deal, cowboy.”

A palpable tension fills the air as Joel shuffles the deck with a renewed confidence. He lays out the sequence and flips the first three over, and it doesn’t seem like the cards are in your favor.

It’s an aimless, faceless group, and the next two aren’t much better. None of your cards pair together, and there’s nothing to do but accept your fate.

You muck your hand onto the pile with a mumbled profanity, waiting for Joel to flaunt his win. When he drops his own useless cards in the middle of the table, you look up to find him just as perplexed as you.

It’s a tie.

Neither of you have enough to make a decent hand, leaving the game in a dead heat. All this built-up tension relying on this pivotal round, and it’s a tie.

“Well,” Joel says, scratching absently at the salt and pepper stubble lining his cheeks. “I’d say it’s a draw.”

“So, who wins?”

He thinks for a moment before leaning back in his chair and not-so-subtly positioning his knees with room for you to sit in between them. “I think we both win.”

You take the glaringly obvious suggestion and pull yourself out of your seat, slinking around the table to situate yourself between Joel’s legs.

“Claim your prize, Mr. Miller.”

Your hands sweep over his thighs as he pops open the button of his jeans and drags his thickening cock from the confines of his boxers. Beaded precum drools from the tip as he languidly palms his shaft.

The sight of his digits running over the length of his cock is hypnotizing – rough, calloused fingers against warm, flushed skin. A burning fire builds in your core as you imagine how his cock would feel inside of you.

“Open up for me, sugar.”

He cups your jaw with his free hand and guides you closer until his salty head rests against the plush of your bottom lip. When your tongue darts out to trace the vein on the underside of his cock, he groans and inches forward in his seat.

“Fuck- take it all.”

You eagerly bob over his length and Joel revels in your rapt attention, in the way you dedicate yourself to the task at hand.

“Such a nice mouth,” he pants, prodding the head of his cock against the inside of your cheek and admiring the protrusion it creates. Your fingers twist into the material of his jeans and you chastise yourself for not starting the game with a bolder approach.

Joel’s hips buck against your face as he dips his cock further into your mouth, lingering briefly on the back of your tongue before hesitantly pulling back with a hiss.

“As much as I’d like to keep you down there all day, we’d better stop now if you want your reward.”

You’d almost forgotten about the bet you’d made, too preoccupied with swallowing Joel’s length to remember how you’d gotten into this position in the first place.

He holds a hand out to help you up, and you lick the remnants of his presence from your lips.

“Where d’you want me?” He trails a hand over your arm, sending a shiver up the length of your spine.

“Here,” you say with impressive ambition. “Right here in this chair, just like I’ve pictured all evening.”

“Yeah? Gonna ride my cock right here in the kitchen?”

You nod with conviction and Joel grins as his hands move to the button of your jeans. He yanks the material down past your thighs, fingers hooked into the waist band of you underwear to leave you bare in one move.

“This too,” you mention with a tug to his t-shirt. You want to see everything while you have the chance – who knows how many times a simple game of poker will amount to this.

Your jeans pool at your feet and you step out of them while Joel throws his shirt somewhere off to the side, dark curls sticking up in odd directions from the fabric disrupting their shape.

He leans back against the chair and holds your waist while you position yourself in his lap, his cock twitching with interest as it brushes against your skin. You’re not sure who’s more eager for what’s to come – you or the man beneath you.

Joel laments the lost opportunity of taking you apart on his fingers and his mouth, but there’s no delaying the zealous way you sink down onto his cock. That’s alright, he thinks with a choked noise, there’s always next time.

His thick length parts your walls with a delicious pressure, nudging against your sweet spot when you settle completely onto his lap. You’re still for a moment as you adjust to the strain, chest heaving with the effort of keeping yourself upright.

“Oh, fuck- you feel perfect.”

Joel’s hands travel up your sides until his warm palms find the swell of your tits. He leans in to sweep messy, open-mouthed kisses against the column of your throat, distracting himself with your heavy breath until you’re ready to move.

After what feels like an eternity of waiting in greedy impatience, you regain your strength enough to wrap your thighs around his waist, molding yourself to his frame as you lift up halfway before coming back down, smearing slick over his skin.

“That’s it,” he grunts. “Take what you need.”

Your pace quickens each time you raise off his cock, coming back down and grinding against his pelvis in one fluid motion. His broad, freckled shoulders are warm under your hands, an anchor for the rhythmic cycle of your hips over his.

“M’not gonna last much longer.”

You pant as his hand abandons your breast to stroke circles against your puffy clit, carrying you to the precipice of your release.

When your movements falter and you crumple against his chest, Joel picks up where you left off. He thrusts up into you in search of his pleasure, grunting as your walls flex around him.

Just as he’s about to tip over the edge, he slides his length free and grips the base with a tight fist, rubbing the head of his cock against your balmy skin as he paints the evidence of his arousal over your naval.

The air is filled with a litany of lewd sounds, pants and sighs overlapping in your equal states of bliss. Joel’s softening cock rests against your thigh as you run your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck and he flattens a hand against the arch of your back, both thinking about how fortunate it was that Joel suggested a card game to cure your mutual boredom.

#the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #joel miller fluff #joel x reader #joel x you #joel smut #tlou joel #tlou #the last of us smut #the last of us x reader #tlou smut #tlou x reader

966 notes · View notes