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thatanimeramenchick · 2 months

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Yandere Vox x Secretary Reader Pt. 2

Eh, what have you guys done to me. I swear, we Vox fangirls are the thirstiest on the internet right now. Also, officially, I’m making this a three part series, but that’s it. So much for a oneshot. I'll make a title for this series, eventually. Also, if you want to be tagged, please put your age in your bio.

Part One - Part Three

Triggers: Dubcon-y vibes in scenes. Violence and threatening. Read responsibly, stuff is gonna get a little dark this chapter.

Word count: 3,142

---

Vox thought you looked perfect. For once, you were wearing something decent that he bought you instead of one of the plain outfits from before you had moved in. Somehow, you had been convinced to put on actual jewelry and makeup as well. The only flaw you held was the dirty look on your face, which you refused to face towards him directly, and it only got dirtier as you downed more and more wine.

“You know, you could at least attempt to have a good time after all the effort I put into this evening,” he said, “You haven’t even touched your food.”

“Not hungry,” you said, voice ice cold. It always was nowadays.

“If you’re not in the mood for dinner, we could watch a new production I oversaw,” he said, “I think you’d enjoy it.”

You snort at that.

“I’d rather listen to Alastor’s radio program than watch any of the hot trash your production company creates,” you said.

“I’m sorry? What was that?” he said, putting a warning hint into his tone.

“You heard me,” you said, “I’ve gotta say for someone supposedly so modern, you’re still just an old man. Alastor is what? Like twenty years older than you? And you think he’s elderly? You’re practically a decrepit bygone as well. You think anyone gives a shit about cable nowadays? At least Alastor has the decency to make stuff with class and not just forgettable, cheap cash grabs.”

Against his will, he felt a circuit spurt. His hand clenched around the glass and slammed it onto the table, causing you to jump. A small noise left your mouth, as panicked as the look in your eyes was now. You looked like you knew that you had pushed a little more than you probably should have.

“You know what?” he hissed, “You think you can just talk to me like that? Fine. You wanna play rough with me? Well guess what, I’m going to fuck that bad attitude right out of you!”

“Excuse me???”

You didn’t even look scared at that just shocked and baffled, as if that had been the last thing you had expected to hear.

“You heard me!” he grabbed you by your shoulders and shoved you flat onto the couch, “I’m sick of you fighting me. Well, you’re not going to after this.”

“W-wait, Vox, stop-”

He smashed his lips to yours, purposefully being harsh, biting you when you tried to keep your mouth closed. When you attempted to turn your face away, he grabbed your chin rough enough where he knew it would leave a mark before kissing you harder. You pounded your fist against his chest, but he ignored it, straddling you. He eventually used his other hand to grab your wrist and push it into the couch.

He didn’t know when it happened, but at some point in your struggle something shifted in the air. Changed. You had finally stopped fighting, slowly wrapping your arm around his neck, kissing him back. It was heavenly, you finally submitting to him. Yes, yes, yes… He paused to look you in the eyes, to see your timid gaze and red face. There was still a look of anger glazed across your features, but it was fading. He brought his hand up to play at the buttons on your blouse. You looked at each other for a second longer before you initiated a kiss for once, using the arm around his neck to pull him close. Your tongue felt so hot, so right, as if your body was as electric as his own and-

Vox gasped, a spark running through his head. He woke up alone in bed, a literal hot mess. He felt like his head was overheating, running a million miles a minute, despite the fact that he should feel cold from sleep. Mixing this with the slick sweat and fluid he was covered in, it was an uncomfortable feeling. Groping for the robe hanging next to his bed, he climbed out. What a dream. He needed a second to wire down from that before trying to go back to sleep.

He picked up his phone and opened it to check on you. The camera in your room showed you curled up on your mattress, blanket half off your body and arms wrapped around one of your pillows. It pressed into your dozing face, which held a peaceful, relaxed look that he rarely saw now that you had decided to go to war with him. His finger absently stroked your image on the screen.

Why did you have to be so difficult? He didn’t know what had been the powder keg that had kicked off your little rebellion, but whatever it was, all his attempts to nip it in the bud had made you more temperamental. Clearly his irritation with your behavior had seeped into his mind enough to create some… darker fantasies deep in his sleeping subconscious.

He shook his head. It was just a dream. It didn’t mean anything.

Besides, he already had been thinking about what to do next, to give you that little push you needed to be more agreeable.

---

Later that day he scoffed at how ridiculous his own morbid imagination was. The idea of you dressed all pimped up like one of Valentino’s whores. You barely got out of bed nowadays. If he was being honest, your imprisonment had caused your mood to swing between defiant temper tantrums and a hopelessly depressed sloth. Today, you were in the latter mood, still in pajamas that he swore you were wearing two days ago, lying on the couch and mindlessly eating as you watched some random reality show.

“Hello there, beautiful,” he said, trying to sound pleasant, “Looks like you’ve had a relaxing day.”

You glance at him for a second before looking back at the television. The blanket is pulled tighter around you, as if you were trying to hide any inch of yourself from him. Ever since his last attempt at showing his affection had ended in you headbutting him – hard – you had been particularly prickly at even the slightest hint that he might want to touch you.

“What do you want, asshole?” you said, voice lacking emotion.

Charming as always.

“Well, dearest, I was thinking. Now that you’ve had some time to think things over, I was hoping we could finally come to an agreement that would make us both happy,” he said.

“I highly doubt that’s possible,” you said.

He sat beside you, which caused you to curl your legs in tighter. You inch up on the arm a little, as if to sit as far away from him as possible without having to actually put any effort into getting up.

“We both have something that the other person wants, something that could be easily settled with a written contract,” Vox said, “You would like to be allowed to roam around this cesspool of a city and I-”

“Let me guess, it includes a whole paragraph about me never leaving your sight as well as a clause about how often you get to stick yourself in my various orifices?” you grumbled.

“You’re so melodramatic sometimes,” he said, “You always assuming the worst about people, F/N. Makes me wonder if you were double crossed a lot in your previous life.”

You don’t even respond to this, just continue to stare ahead. He’d noticed that lately you’ve been avoiding his gaze. He wasn’t sure how much you had figured out about his abilities, but you seemed to have pieced enough together that the more you avoided his eyes, the less direct influence he had on you at the moment. He was sure that it was one of the many reasons you were so moody lately; you stubbornly refused to be soothed by him. Regardless, whether you were trying to avoid his hypnotic gaze or not, it’s no matter. It’s not like you’re going to be able to avoid the overall influence he has over this city, especially if you spend your free time watching television he’s created.

“It’s rather tame, considering the situation you’re in. Contract or not, it’s not like you’re going to be going anywhere anytime soon,” he continued, “You’re lucky I care for you as much as I do, trying to work with you like this.”

“Hooray for me,” you said.

You really were a brat sometimes. Vox at times wondered if it was because he was too soft on you, and you didn’t realize the amount of actual power he held over you. Either that or you just didn’t care anymore. Whatever. It was all big talk because at the end of the day, you both knew you couldn’t do anything about your situation.

“You already have lots of benefits, which you would retain. Nice apartment, clothes, up to date tech. Besides that, you can come and go regularly, as long as you’re back here within twenty-four from when you last left. You can do whatever you want during that time. You also would be working for me a minimum of forty hours a week, with the occasional granted vacation at my discretion. That’s pretty much it, along with you occasionally being cooperative with my… desires,” he said, “So you’d have plenty of time to yourself. I didn’t put in anything that would force you to do anything too unsavory with me.”

Though he certainly would have liked to be more pushy in that department, he knew going too far could result in the kind of hate fueled relationship Valentino and Angel Dust shared. He honestly didn’t have the energy to have that much drama in his own life. Good night, he could hardly handle the drama that was in his life now. Besides, he was sure you’d come around willingly, even if it took a few centuries.

You glared at him as he finished speaking, as if to say, how generous of you.

From inside his vest, he pulls out the contract and holds it out to you.

“So, we have a deal?” he asked.

You sit up and take the paper, still avoiding his eyes. You seem to be reading it over, though your hold on it is lazy.

“… This still says you can fuck me at least once a week if you want to, or else I’m not allowed to leave the building,” you said, “Did you really think I wasn’t going to notice shit like that?”

He laughed a bit awkwardly.

“I mean, I did say I would like you to be at least a little cooperative,” he said, crossing his legs, “We could wait a little while if you’d like. I mean, you’d still have more freedom than you do now, even with that minuscule restriction. You should know by now that I’m a patient man.”

You stare at it again, forehead wrinkled.

“You know what… I see where you’re coming from,” you said, finally making eye contact, “Tic for tac, eh?”

“That’s a crude way for you to put it,” he said.

You shrug.

“Crude or not, it’s the truth,” you said, a sardonic smirk appearing on your face, “You want me to give a little to get a little.”

Before he could say anything you hold up your hands with more energy than he’s seen you have in days.

“No, no, no! I understand. I’ve been in hell long enough to know how people like you work. I get where you’re coming from, I really do. I’m not stupid! So trust me, I’m being completely serious when I say that I think you should take this lovely contract of yours and shove it up your glowing blue ass!” you ripped it in half on the last word, your smile still present but a nasty look in your eyes.

Vox felt his eye twitch as you continued to smirk at him, tossing the paper at him like you would throw trash across the room. You then lie back down and turn back to the TV, ignoring him again as if the last few minutes hadn’t even happened at all. Though you were attempting to pull your face back into the blank expression of earlier, he could see in your eyes a mixture of emotion, rage, yes, but also a certain smugness. What, did you really think you were tough shit for mouthing off to him like that?

He felt like his head was going to explode. Before he even registered how he was reacting, he had grabbed you by the hair and was pulled you back over.

“Ow! What the hell are you doing, Vox?” you yelled, the smug look gone from your eyes, “You’re hurting me!”

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you? I’m trying to be generous to you because I actually like you, but you know what? I’ve clearly spoiled you rotten already!” he fumed.

He was practically seeing red as he dragged you over, causing you to yelp. You try to kick him, but he only grabs onto your ankle and pulls you closer to him, spinning you around so that you were pressed against the back of the couch, his arms on either side of you. His fingers are still gripping your hair, forcing you to turn your head towards him.

“You know, you’re right, who needs a contract?” he said, “I can do whatever the hell I want with you, and what are you going to do about it?”

Your voice cracked as you attempted to speak, but he didn’t pay any attention to what you were trying to say. He could feel his systems overloading with the amount of rage he was feeling, shouting over you.

“I hope you like the view from up here, because you’re staying here for the rest of your miserable eternal exist. You can work and live here 24/7,” he said, “Anything else we should change in the arrangement? You didn’t like the idea of fucking me once a week? Fine by me. Why not once a day? Twice a day? Every hour? Would you like that better? Huh? Answer me!”

As he finished speaking, he finally heard what you were saying, “-m sorry! I’m sorry, please, stop!

As he heard your pleading, he felt himself being brought back down to earth. While his rage was still present, your begging brought him back to reality, and it was finally registering how upset you were. Hysterical. Terrified. You were sobbing, more afraid of him than he had ever seen you, even on the worst days of your fighting.

“D-d-don’t hurt me. I’m s-sorry, I’m sorry! Please, don’t hurt me!”

He released your hair with a rapid exhale, and you automatically moved your head away from him, arms shielding your face. Shaking, it was sinking in just emotionally distraught you were, as well as the damage he had done to the couch. He hadn’t even noticed he had been digging his claws into the polyester, a row of gnashes beside your head. The situation was completely getting out of control. He pushed himself off of you and turned away. He didn’t even say anything, just left the room and went through the wires to his office. His head was overheating, and he was going to crash at this rate if he didn’t calm down.

Damn it! He hated how out of control you made him feel. It was pathetic. There was only one other person he could think of that made him get near as frustrated as he was feeling with you at the moment. He wasn’t the kind to act out, and here he was acting almost as ridiculous as his business partner did. The only saving grace was that Vox at least tried to keep his infatuation as quiet and private as possible.

It was more than his emotional irregularity though. The fact that he felt this way at all about you was humiliating. Affection, fondness, it was a weakness, and he knew it. Valentino got away with just having simple lust and taking what he wanted, but genuine affection demanded gentleness and tenderness. It was beyond him just not being able to do as he pleased with you, he didn’t want to. He wanted you to come to him willingly. It was the thing holding him back from just hypnotizing you into his arms or using a “love” potion, and now he had probably set any progress towards your affection back significantly.

He rubbed his forehead, which was starting to cool down a little. What was going on up there? He was going to end up doing something rash, something he regretted, if he didn’t get things under control and under control fast. Something needed to be done, but he didn’t know what. Nothing had gone how he had wanted it to. He would need to rethink his approach.

---

You spent a long time shaking on the couch, arms and blanket wrapped around you, crying. You were an idiot. Clearly your brain was turning to mush just sitting around the house all day. Did you actually think you’d be able to get away with speaking like that to an Overlord of Hell?

There had to be a way out of this place. Had to. But the more you thought about it, the more impossible it felt. Even if you did manage to get out of the building in one piece, Vox had this entire city under constant watch. Every corner of Pentagram City was crawling with his tech and media. It would take minutes if not seconds for him to find you and bring you back by force. At this point, maybe you should just sign a contract with the douchebag. Surely, he’d get bored of you eventually, right? Maybe if you got lucky he’d even get killed off one of these days in an extermination, and you’d be off the hook completely.

But how long would that take? Decades? A century or two? What if he never tired of you? Eternal death or not, you didn’t want to spend that much time living and sleeping with some psycho you hated. No. That wasn’t an option. You weren’t going to do that. But what then? You had thought he was going to literally rip your head off just a few minutes ago for telling him no. You were pretty sure things weren’t going to get less volatile around here if you kept rejecting him.

You wiped at your tear soaked face with a tissue and tossed it across the room. It’s light material just sent it floating to the ground though. It looked as pathetic as you felt.

“Damn it,” you cursed, smashing your head into a throw pillow and lying back down, “I hate this fucking place.”

#yandere x reader #vox #vox x reader #yandere vox #yandere hazbin hotel #Eh I can't believe I wrote this and actually published it for people to read.

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bookshelf-dust · 11 months

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all the time

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 7,206

warnings: swearing, brief mentions of alcohol, family drama, best friends to lovers type beat (lemme know if i missed anything, as always)

a/n: this got pretty long, and i’m sorry about that. i put a steve option in my 1k celebration poll, and i haven’t been able to get over it, so that’s what this is. i thought i could try it out. i haven’t really had this much fun with a fic in a long time. i know my steve audience isn’t as big, but i guess there’s a chance someone might like it.

————

The crumbs from your crackers drop into your lap, the crease of your book catching them. You set your spoon back down, flipping the hardback over to ensure no crumb will be left lingering in between the pages.

You’re curled into the end chair at the table, just as always, legs crossed and book nestled against your bare legs. Your parents sit across from each other, talking about whatever, but you aren’t listening.

You dunk a cracker in your soup, holding it there for a moment to let it soak up the broth, before tossing it into your mouth. You continue on this way—alternating between scooping up noodles or chicken and drowning saltines—until you have nothing left but the dregs in your bowl.

You mark the page in your book, tuck it under your thigh. You’re tipping the bowl backwards, drinking the rest of the soup, when your mother says your name loudly enough to tear you from your stupor.

You swallow and wipe your mouth haphazardly with a napkin. “What?”

“Your father and I were just talking about your sister’s wedding.”

You raise your eyebrows, wondering if she’s actually being serious.

“No shit.”

Your father sets his cup down, glaring at you. “Language.”

“Sorry,” you say, though there’s no real meaning in the word.

Your sister has told practically every goddamn person in Hawkins that she’s getting married at the end of the month. Everyone is talking about her wedding. A wedding that you don’t give one singular fuck about.

She’s marrying her high school sweetheart, they’re moving into a sweet new house in the suburbs, blah blah blah. She’s doing the same shit every other peaked-in-high-school woman her age is doing. And you can’t be bothered to care.

Not only that, but you have to be a bridesmaid. You’re not very close with your sister, so her choosing another friend as her maid of honor really didn’t hurt you. Frankly, you would’ve been fine if she’d left you out of the bridal party completely.

None of this is really as spectacular as everyone’s made it out to be.

“Anyhow,” your mother begins, “you know she’s allowing her guests to bring a plus one.” She pauses, and you raise your eyebrows again, not understanding the need for dramatics here.

“Well, she asked if you were going to bring someone, and I told her that you were.”

You push back from the table, entirely too confused. “What?”

“Honey, don’t get so frantic. I didn’t think you would want to be alone, especially considering your attitude towards the entire function.”

You take a deep breath, pressing your fingers into your eyelids.

“I thought you could bring that boyfriend of yours. Actually, that’s what I told her. She’s already put in the name for a place card.”

“Mom, are you out of your mind?”

She gasps, taking a sip of her wine to gather herself. Your father chooses this moment to begin clearing up the table.

“I don’t have a boyfriend!” you exclaim.

Her eyes widen. “What do you mean? I told her you’d bring that boy, Steve. You spend an awful lot of time with him for him to not be your boyfriend.”

You feel like you’re choking on air. Like your dinner is going to come up if she doesn’t cut this out. “That’s because he’s my friend!”

“You’re always with him, sweetie. Much more than I ever was with any of my male friends.” She clearly doesn’t believe that he’s not your boyfriend. Like it’s impossible that he isn’t.

You shove past her and into the kitchen, utterly exasperated. Why are people making decisions for you? Why is your mother suddenly proclaiming to everyone that you’re in a relationship you didn’t even know you were in?

When you turn around from facing the sink, both of your parents are staring at you. “What now? Something else you’ve told the whole damn town about me?”

Your mother reaches out to you, but you brush her off. You’re a little too pissed for any sort of cooing right now.

“I’m sorry I assumed he was your boyfriend, honey. But you have to bring him, or else the family will ask questions and there will be an empty space next to you. Personally, I’d find that embarrassing.”

You push your way out of the kitchen, more than done with this situation. “You’ll be lucky if I even go to the damn wedding. And, personally, I wouldn’t go blabbing about things I’ve just assumed about my own daughter rather than just talking about them with her.”

When you turn down the hall, your father is rubbing his forehead, and your mother is looking at you like you should be grateful for her having assured you have company for the big event.

“This could be good for you!” she shouts, and your only response is the slam of your bedroom door.

In hindsight, of course the slam was childish, but you really can’t believe your mother.

You’ve never been so frustrated with her in your life. And yeah, you’ll go to the wedding, but what gave her the right to do that? This is your life. Not hers.

Normally, you would call Steve about something like this, but shit, you can’t.

Steve. As your boyfriend?

That’s too much for your brain to handle right now. You throw yourself on the bed and call it a night.

————

“So, let me get this straight,” Robin begins, holding up her hands so as to count off your main points. “Your mother just told everyone that you have a boyfriend, that this boyfriend is Steve, of all people, and that he’s your plus one to your bitchy sister’s wedding?”

The countertop is cold when you press your forehead against it. “Yes,” you whine.

You’d gotten up first thing this morning and head to Family Video, needing to spill your guts to the one and only person who would surely match your energy and try to help you handle the situation.

Your arms are laid out in front of you, hands dangling over the edge of the counter and reaching for Robin on the other side. She grabs hold of them and squeezes. “That’s one hell of a pickle you’re in. But! Lucky for you, I’m gonna help you figure it out.”

You squeeze her hands back, only to jerk your head up at an alarmingly fast rate. Robin cringes like you’re going to give yourself whiplash. You’ve just had an absolutely terrifying thought.

“Steve’s not working today, is he?”

Robin tries to think off the top of her head, but there are too many thoughts rambling around in there, so she’s quick to consult the schedule pinned to the wall behind her. She probably could’ve told you the times of each of his shifts if only you hadn’t asked.

“He won’t come in until this afternoon. Three-thirty, to be exact.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Thank fuck. I’m not ready to see him yet. He’s going to notice something’s wrong and then he’ll want to talk about it and then it’ll just be a big fat shit show.”

Robin props her chin up with her hand, elbow resting against the green countertop. “You know, maybe that’s a good thing. He already knows you so well that he’ll probably make a great boyfriend.”

“Robin, what?”

She’s plotting and you’ve never felt more afraid.

“Well, you can’t just not take him to the wedding after all of this, right? It would be ten times messier now that your mom has told all of Hawkins that Steve Harrington is your boyfriend. And you know he’ll agree to go, being ‘Mr. Nice Guy’ and whatnot. Besides, you’ve gotta admit that there’s chemistry between the two of you.”

You go to speak, but she holds a hand up to stop you.

“So you tell him about your little predicament, and maybe he can just act as your boyfriend for the night?” She smiles nervously, shoulders rising in slight fear of your reaction. “You two are best friends, no one’s bound to be the wiser.”

“Robin, are you suggesting that I just fake-date the man?”

She raises her hands in a don’t-shoot-the-messenger gesture. “What’s the harm in it? It’s just a one time thing. You go, you get it over with, and Steve will be there the whole time. It’ll be totally fine.”

You drag your hands down your face, peeking at her through your fingers. This is insane. This is fucking delusional. But it could work, couldn’t it?

A customer comes in, and you step to the side while Robin helps them at the counter. Chemistry? Maybe Robin’s right. Not that you’d ever tell her that.

Last Valentine’s, Steve showed up at your place after dark, flowers in hand, knowing full well that you hate the holiday. “I just wanted you to feel special,” he’d said. “And I love you and everything.” You’ve been saying that to each other for forever it seems. And you mean it. He’s your best friend. But now you’re wondering if maybe he means it in a different way. Or if that’s just what you want to think.

Steve doesn’t know that you pressed a few of the flowers to keep, or that you’ve saved the stubs from the movies you’ve seen together. You think about how he holds your hand on the way up the theater stairs, keeping you from tripping and spilling popcorn everywhere. How he offers to go out with you when you need to be away from home, not wanting to leave you alone. That he takes your bag from you the second he notices you adjusting it, straps digging into your shoulder.

Your hands start to sweat, and you feel like this could either go just as Robin’s told you, or it could go really fucking badly.

“Hello? Anyone home?” Robin’s voice breaks you out of your stupor. She’s waving her hand in front of your face.

“Listen honey, I can see your brain working from here. I know you’re coming up with every possible way that this could go wrong. Just talk to him! It might go really well. You never know.”

Robin boops you on the nose and starts to walk towards the staff room. It’s her way of signaling that you need to get your shit together.

“Good luck! I love you!”

You grab your keys and make for the door, flipping her off as you go. She only blows a kiss in response.

————

You’d been pacing your room when Steve called and offered to take you to the bookstore. Really he just wanted to spend time with you, and you needed to spill your guts. You spent an hour contemplating calling him, going over to see him, maybe even just cutting yourself off from him as a whole. In fact, cutting yourself off from the world had crossed your mind, but he’d since prevented that.

Now Steve hovers behind you while you wander down an aisle filled with mystery novels. None of them are catching your eye.

There’s a warmth behind you, and you look up to see Steve. He reaches above your head, one hand on your waist, and pulls something down. He flips it around in his hands before holding it out to you. “What about this one?”

Surprisingly enough it does sound vaguely interesting. “You have to read it after I do.”

He grins. “Yes ma'am.”

And we will read it. You know that he will because he’s done it before. He’s sat on your couch and blabbed about books to you, whining about this character, asking you a question about that plotline. Robin’s voice chirps in your head. Chemistry. Shit.

Steve takes the book back from you. He never lets you carry anything.

You walk further into the store, your feet carrying you to the same places they always do. You end up in a quiet corner, and your heart rate picks up. Not telling him is only hurting you more. You take a deep breath.

“Steve, I gotta tell you something.”

He crosses his arms and leans against the end cap. “Shoot.”

“You know how my sister is getting married?”

He snorts. “Yeah, I’d say I’m familiar with the event.”

You’d smile if it weren’t for the fact that you feel like you might puke at any moment. “Well she decided that guests could have a plus one.” Steve hates the way he warms up at that. At the fact that he wants you to take him. He nods, encouraging you to continue.

“Well my mother decided to tell everyone that I’d bring you. As my boyfriend.”

Steve coughs, and your head jerks in his direction. “Your boyfriend?”

You press your hands together. “Yeah. She said she assumed that we were dating because we’re always together, and when my sister asked if I’d be bringing someone, she just told her that it would be you.”

You make eye contact with Steve. His cheeks have gone red. “So naturally, she’s already had your nameplate printed. And now, what I’m saying is that I need you to pretend to be my boyfriend and go to my sister’s wedding with me.” The last part spills out of your mouth faster than you’d intended.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, and you start to panic. It’s as if you’ve been sent into overdrive, like every sense in your body is on high alert. If this goes wrong, Robin’s ass is grass.

You back into the corner of the aisle, book spines pressing into your back. “I realize I said I need you to do this, but I should have prefaced it by saying that of course you don’t have to, and I don’t expect you to–”

“I’ll do it.”

Steve pushes his hair back from his forehead.

“What?”

“I said I’ll do it. I don’t mind.”

“Steve, are you sure?”

He’s moving into your personal space bubble, hands grasping for your arms where you’ve tucked them behind your back. He pulls them out, hands sliding down your forearms until he’s got your hands in his. His palms are warm, and you can’t help but notice how big his hands are. There’s a ring on his pinky finger too, and it takes you by surprise, considering he’s not usually one for jewelry. You’ll have to ask him about it later, assuming you survive this.

“I’m sure. I’m not just going to let you show up after your mom did all that shit. She’s more trouble than she’s worth, if you ask me. But I promise, I don’t mind. I’ll go and be your boyfriend. I don’t know how good I’ll be, but hey…we’ll see.”

You pull your hand away to smack him on the arm. He winces like you’ve brutally wounded him.

“Don’t you dare say that, Steven. You’d make an excellent fake boyfriend. And a kickass real one. Don’t let me hear that shit again.”

You let go of him and start to walk away.

Steve chuckles. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll beat your ass, Harrington. And you’d definitely lose that one.”

He catches up to you and his hands find your waist again, though he struggles to hold on when you’re continually moving.

“Hey,” he pouts, his bottom lip jutting out at you. “Not fair.”

You look back up at him and reach up to pat his cheek. It’s warmer than you’d expected, and still all rosy. “Sorry, sorry.”

“That’s not very nice of a fake girlfriend.”

You snort. “Ha! I guess my fake girlfriend skills aren’t up to the great Steve Harrington’s standards.”

“You’re being so mean to me today.” He rests his chin on your shoulder while you pick through a sale pile.

“Only yanking your chain, dearest.”

He chuckles, and you can feel his breath against your neck.

You start to wonder if maybe everyone has a point. You do spend the majority of your time with Steve, and you are touchy, but that’s just the kind of person Steve is. You hadn’t realized how much you enjoyed physical touch from another person, even when it’s the most mundane action, until him. Robin is the same way, always holding your hands or leaning on you. They’re spoiling you.

But the more you think about it, the more you realize that you’ve started to crave Steve’s touch when he’s not around. At night when you feel lonely, when you’re staring at the ceiling and letting your thoughts engulf you, you wish he was there to give you a hug. You wish he was there when you’re eating lunch alone and his leg isn’t pressed against yours under the table. You miss the warmth and the weight of him beside you on the couch. It’s like there’s a part of your brain that’s reserved for him, and suddenly you’re worried that this fake dating Steve thing might be the worst decision you’ve ever made.

————

“Is this really necessary?”

“Yes, and I’m going to leave this with you until the masquerade is complete so that both of you morons have a reminder of your agreement.”

Robin sits on Steve’s couch, white board in hand. She’s brought way too many markers with her. She decided it would be best if you and Steve had a list of things that are acceptable for your temporary fake romance. She also insisted she be moderator.

“Masquerade? Is that really what we’re calling this?” Steve looks at you.

“No. It’s not.”

“Both of you! Focus!” Robin uncaps a marker and throws the lid at Steve. He catches it. “Now, what kinds of things are okay to do during this little performance? I’m talking, hugging, handholding, kissing, the lot of it. Now shoot.”

Steve looks at you again. “What do you think? This is your family that we’ll be around.”

Your knee starts to bounce.

The majority of your little charade will be during the reception, and having to stand during the ceremony is saving you much more trouble than you’d realized. You never thought you’d be grateful to be a bridesmaid. But now there’s the added pressure of knowing Steve will be watching you then, that your family will be watching the both of you afterwards.

Steve catches your shaking leg and is quick to put a hand out to steady you. He knows you’re nervous.

“See? That’s good. Believable.” Robin is staring at the two of you, or more specifically, at where Steve’s hand rests on your knee.

Steve pulls his hand back. “Okay, so we can hold hands?” you say, questioning yourself already. “You can touch me, like that or like you usually do.”

“I can do that. Hands, arms, back. That alright?”

You start to warm up. “Yeah, that works. What about you? I don’t want to be too handsy or anything but it might be weird if I don’t touch you at all.”

Steve sits back in his chair while Robin scribbles away, her bulletpoints little stars. There are two sides, one for each of you.

“All of that is fine with me too. I really don’t mind, and I think you know I like physical affection. But you know when you like, hang on my arm sometimes? I really like that.”

Robin smiles brilliantly. “That’s good! Makes you look super lovey-dovey.” She jots it down under Steve’s name.

You try not to let it show, but Steve’s words are running rampant in your head. I really like that. He does? You hadn’t realized it before.

“What else?” Robin asks. “Kissing? How do we feel about that?”

“Uh—I hadn’t really thought about it,” you tell her. And you hadn’t. The thought of Steve kissing you at all, other than the top of your head like he’s done before, makes you feel like your heart has just dropped out of your ass. “But I suppose it’d be weird if we didn’t at all, you know?”

You’re looking at Steve, hoping he’ll feel the same way, searching for some sort of consolation.

“No, yeah, that’s a good point.” He’s quiet for a moment before continuing, “What about your cheeks and forehead and stuff? Maybe the face is fair game? And you can do the same for me.��

You wipe your palms across your thighs. Kissing Steve. Steve kissing you. You’re losing your shit.

“Yeah, that’s totally fine. That works.” You’re amazed that you’ve even managed to get the words out.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, you know?” Steve’s expression is soft. You know he’s being serious with you.

“I know. And I don’t want to make you feel that way either. I want this to be a perfectly comfortable evening.”

“And I’m sure it will be!” Robin claps her hands together, setting her board down against the couch cushions beside her.

She stands abruptly. “Basically you’re just behaving like you normally do, but with a little more hands-on action, you know?”

Steve quirks a brow, taking a furtive glance at you. “What do you mean, like we normally do?”

Robin moves towards her best friend and crouches, taking his hands in hers. “Uh…what are you doing?”

“Listen, little Stevie, you’re a touchy-feely kind of guy, and you’re always all over the lovely lady to our left. You can’t deny that.”

“I mean—yeah.”

Robin nods her head. Steve struggles to keep eye contact with her, knowing you’re watching the interaction.

“And you’ve rubbed off on her! She wasn’t really like this before you, Harrington.”

This time he jerks his head towards you. “Really?”

He’s thinking about your hugs, how you wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze. About how you always take his hand when he offers it, or how you'll toss a leg over his on the couch. Any other sort of behavior would feel strange.

You feel yourself go all warm. Feel your chest squeeze. You’re forgetting how to breathe. She’s completely right. Steve has brought out a side of you that you swore you didn’t have. The side that longs for affection. Maybe more.

You nod your head at him.

“Yeah,” Robin says, “Most I’d get out of her was some hand holding before you came around.”

She releases Steve from her grasp and rises once again.

“But my point is, you two are going to make a fantastic fake couple. And maybe even an excellent real one.”

Steve face palms. “Robin.”

“Sorry, sorry! Make sure to take pictures for me, alright? I’ll be so sad to miss this happening in person.”

Steve stands, grabbing Robin’s bag for her. “Yep. Alright. See you later, Rob.”

He looks at you with what you’re quite positive is fear in his eyes. He leads her to the door, and you can’t help but chuckle, even if you’re nervous as shit, as he reassures her that there will be pictures, and that you’ll tell her all about it.

————

“Just hang it up on the doorframe, and then you can hold stuff up to it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

You sit cross legged in the center of Steve’s bed, watching him rummage through his closet. He’s going to knock your dress on the floor if he doesn’t quit his frenzy.

You’d told him it wasn’t necessary that he coordinate his outfit with yours, but he insisted, so you brought your dress over for him to see. Steve has a feeling that when he sees you in it he’s going to lose his shit, not that he can tell you that.

“You know, I never thought these would be useful. But I guess your asshole dad dragging you to business events pays off sometimes.”

Steve lifts a bunch of hangers from the rack and pulls them out of his closet, setting them on the bed beside you.

“Fancy,” you say, smirking.

He rubs his hand over his chin, the other braced against his hip. “Yeah.”

You can tell he’s a little frazzled at this. The reminder of dressing himself up to be paraded around by his father—a father who doesn’t spare Steve a second when not in the public eye.

You hate that you’ve made him dig up all these memories.

“They all fit okay?” you question.

He nods, that one insistent lock of hair slipping free. He pushes it back before you have the chance to.

You slide off the side of the bed and stand. You gesture for him to sit and that gets a smile out of him.

After he’s settled, you lift each suit up one by one, seeing which matches the blue of your dress best. You’re only glad that your sister picked a nice shade: a dark, rich midnight blue. The kind you’d be able to spot from far off in a department store and need to take a look.

You get to a sort of soft gray one, and Steve stops you. You hook it up on the doorframe beside your dress.

“I think that looks nice, yeah?”

You walk backwards until your spine meets Steve’s knees. You brace yourself, hands on his calves. His chin meets the top of your head because of how high up the bed is.

“I like it a lot, Harrington.”

He snorts, and you can feel the puff of air against your scalp. He’s warm, his presence all around you. His cologne, maybe his shampoo if you let yourself fall in between his legs. But you don’t. You stand.

“Looks pretty solid to me,” you tell him, though your grin falters just slightly enough for him to catch it.

He puts a gentle hand on your cheek, making sure you keep your eyes locked on his.

“Hey. It’s gonna be great, okay? You’re going to kill it in that dress. Probably kill me, actually,” he laughs. “We’ll handle it together, alright?”

“Alright, Steven.” You’re trying not to over-analyze that comment. This is not the time to get sweaty.

He stands up, hand sliding down from your cheek to cover your collarbones. You wrap your arms around his back on instinct, and you swear you see him blush as he moves to encircle you in his own.

“Does being your fake boyfriend mean your incessant picking has only gotten worse?”

You rest your forehead against his chest. You can hear the steady thump of his heartbeat. You think about how nice it might be to do this all the time. What it might be like if he weren’t your fake boyfriend, but your real one.

“Mhm,” you mumble. “I plan on continuing it, too.”

Steve’s hands run up and down your back.

“I look forward to it,” he whispers. There’s a part of you that knows he means it.

————

Steve hasn’t stopped looking at you since you met him at the door to the wedding venue.

You’d run down, more than happy to have company that wasn’t your sister's bitchy bridal party.

He stands with you now, waiting until he’s allowed to take his seat, and you can feel his eyes burning into you.

Not that you’re any better than he is.

His suit fits him just right, and every time he pushes his hair around, you watch his shoulders move under his jacket. It’s driving you insane. And he’s wearing that fucking ring again. Except this time, there’s also one on the middle finger of his opposite hand.

The sun is hitting him just right, turning his eyes this amber color. It’s mesmerizing. You notice then that his tie is the same blue as your dress.

“Steve?”

“Hm?”

“Did you have that? Just lying around?”

He follows your gaze to his chest. No, he absolutely didn’t. He ran out and picked one up in a shade as close as he could get it to yours. Wearing something that felt like a piece of you had his mind abuzz. Abuzz with you.

It’s the same way he feels about these rings Robin bought him. She said you were into them, always talking about Steve’s hands or something. He’s started to like them, but really it’s for you. Most things are.

“Yeah. I found it in a drawer.”

Robin would slap him if she were here. He doesn’t know why he lies, but he does. And then you’re blushing and he’s got to sit down. He squeezes your hand one last time, an encouraging gesture, but one that has so much more buried beneath it.

The ceremony thankfully goes quickly for you, and you’re grateful, hating having to stand up there like you give a shit, like your sister is some saint.

For Steve, it’s the slowest wedding he’s ever been to. You look so fucking gorgeous and he can’t keep it together. He barely even pays attention to the wedding, too busy looking at you. The way your indifference shows on your face, even if you know you’ll hear about it later. The way your hands wrap around the little bouquet you’ve been given. The way the setting sun sets your skin alight, and he thinks that you might truly be the death of him.

When the ceremony has concluded, when Steve is looking for you in the reception hall, he realizes he has to tell you so. You deserve to know how gorgeous you are. He’s beating himself up for having said you looked ‘great,’ and that was all.

You spot him first, and rush to him like you had before, anxious to be near him.

“My mother is looking for me,” you tell him.

“You want to get some air?” His hand finds the small of your back, already leading you away from the crowd and just outside the doors.

“You’re such a good fake boyfriend.”

You suck in a breath of cool air, shake your hands out.

Steve smirks, hands moving up to massage at your shoulders before he even has a chance to give the action a second thought. “Just knew you’d like to get away is all.”

Knew.

The word hits you and you feel like you’ve been slapped. Goddammit, Robin. She’s been in your head all day, and you’ve done nothing but pick up on the little things Steve does for you, the things he seems to know about you, that make him so much more than just a best friend.

You’re fucked.

“Thank you, Steve. For that, and for coming to this. It means a lot to me.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’d do it again.”

He’s looking at you with such fondness, and you have a feeling he wants to say more. You grab hold of one of his wrists, locking your eyes with his in hopes that it will communicate the message. Go ahead.

He exhales. This sort of thing used to be so easy for him, but it’s never been that way with you. He knows it’s because you aren’t just some chick he wants to take out. You’re everything. And he’s fumbling for words.

“I, uh, I wanted to tell you that…” You squeeze his wrist, and he continues, albeit with a shaky voice. “I wanted to tell you that you look beautiful.”

A smile creeps up and onto your face before you can stop it.

“I mean, you always look beautiful, b-but tonight you’re just—stunning. Like, totally breathtaking. Don’t let anyone hear this, but I’d even say you look better than the bride.”

You let out a laugh then, the kind that comes straight from your belly, rich and sickly sweet. It makes Steve laugh, too. He can’t believe you. You’re unbelievable.

“Sorry, Steve, I just–fuck that was so funny.” You straighten up, putting your serious face back on. “Thank you for saying that. I really appreciate it.”

“I’m serious, you know. You’re gorgeous.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, lips warm and plush against your skin.

You go all warm and fuzzy inside. “Thank you, Stevie.”

He smacks another kiss to your cheek, just because he can.

“You look pretty too, you know.”

Steve blushes at your comment, and it’s at this very moment that your mother’s voice rings out, “Sweetie! Come in here, people want to see you!”

Fear flashes across your face, any trace of the sweet flirtiness there seconds before having vanished.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Steve says, watching you gesture towards your mother, telling her you’re on your way. “Let’s do this, yeah?”

You make eye contact with him, and he grabs hold of your hand, weaving his fingers between yours. “Yeah.”

————

“So, how’d the two of you meet?”

You’re surrounded by a crowd of women, some are your family–your mother and sister–some women you’re not even sure you know.

“School.” Steve saves you from having to speak first. “We went to high school together, but we met through a mutual friend.”

Your mother quirks a brow. “Robin,” you tell her.

“Oh! What a lovely young lady.”

Steve snorts and you slap him on the back. Not that anyone could’ve seen it with how close he’s got you pressed to his side. “Yep,” Steve coughs, “She’s great.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, hoping it’ll give him a moment to suppress his smile. Your sister steps away from her friends, catching the action.

“So, Steve, does she treat you okay? I know my sister can be a bit frantic sometimes.” You watch your mother down the rest of her wine, and you know she’s hoping nothing breaks out between the two of you like it has plenty of times before.

Steve’s arm wraps more firmly around you, his hand coming to rest on your hip. Everyone has their eyes locked on you, waiting, hoping that Steve will spill some sort of secret that they can spread throughout Hawkins like wildfire. Nothing beats good gossip around here.

He squeezes your hip, and for a split second you think the gesture might be possessive. Protective, even.

“She does. Your sister is considerate and thoughtful, and she’s the best woman I know. I’ve never felt more comfortable than I do with her. And if she’s ever frantic, it only helps her deal with me when I’m the same way.”

You feel like you could pass out. Because you know he meant every damn word of that. You know he isn’t lying.

Your sister looks between the two of you. “Well, I suppose that’s good to hear.” Her smile is nothing but insincere when she walks off to greet another wedding guest.

One of your aunts swoops in, and Steve feels you clutch his side a little harder. He has a feeling you’re about to be ridiculed.

“Such a lovely day, isn’t it? You two ever think about tying the knot?”

Steve pinks and your hand slips under his suit jacket, clutching at the fabric of his shirt instead. Is this really the time?

“No,” you pipe up. “I haven’t really given it much thought.”

The woman frowns at you. “Well, isn’t that silly? You better get around to it sooner than later, honey. Take after your big sister. You won’t be young forever.”

You go to speak, but Steve’s already begun. “I’m sorry, but she doesn’t have to get married on anyone else’s terms. Hell, she doesn’t have to get married at all, and I can say that in utmost confidence. Maybe back off, okay?”

Your aunt looks absolutely scandalized, as if she cannot bear to accept what just happened to her.

Steve starts to lead you away from the group. “Come on, baby.”

Baby.

Steve called you ‘baby.’

You don’t have time to analyze that though with the way he’s escorting you back outside. He parks you on a bench and starts to pace in front of you.

“I can see why you didn’t want to do this now. Jesus, are they always like that? I thought my dad’s colleagues were dicks, but my god.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Wait—can you call judgmental ladies dicks?”

You snort and bury your face in your hands. “Yes, Steve, I think so.” It comes out muffled, but he hears it all the same.

When you look up, Steve is staring at you, and he’s much closer than he had been. He starts to say something, but both your mother and sister have shown up, looking for you.

“Sweetie! What are you doing out here?” Your mother looks frazzled, and maybe a little tipsy. You knew your sister would be a bitch on her wedding day, but apparently your mother hadn’t yet realized.

“Escaping the mob.”

“Your aunt isn’t entirely pleased with your behavior, I’ve been told.”

You stand up then. “Honestly, mom, I don’t really give a shit. I came to this wedding, like you told me to. I brought, Steve, like you told me to. And I just don’t care anymore. I’m sick of your bullshit.”

She looks aghast, way more than your aunt had.

You look at your sister, who’s clearly hoping to see you fuck up.

“Congratulations on fucking yourself over. You’ll have a severely depressing marriage.”

“C’mon, Steve.”

He takes your hand, and he can’t help but giggle as he follows you out.

————

“Sweetheart? You comin’?”

You’ve stopped halfway up Steve’s stairs, a far off look in your eyes. He’d brought you back to his place to stay the night, and now that you’re here, it’s like every thought you’ve had about him is fit to burst. This cannot just be a tonight situation. You can’t let this end here.

You drop your dress where you’d been holding it up to prevent yourself from tripping.

“Maybe Robin’s right. About the chemistry.”

Steve’s hands go to his hips. He’s got no idea what you’re on about, but the way you’re looking at him is enough to have his heart rate kicking up a notch. “Chemistry?”

“Yeah. She pointed it out. And she said we’d make a fantastic couple, remember?”

He blushes. He hopes this is going where he thinks it is. Tonight has made him realize how much more you are to him than just a friend. He wants you all the time. “Yeah, I remember.”

Your heart is pounding and you feel like you can’t really breathe, but if you don’t say this now, you’re not sure you ever will.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?” He’s never been so stressed in his life. He’s actually starting to sweat.

You exhale and push the words out. “I don’t want you to be my fake boyfriend. I want you to be my real one.”

He coughs, chokes really, and you move up the stairs towards him to make sure he’s okay and not actually sick over the matter.

“Are you sure?” he asks, surprising himself with the ability to speak considering how raw his throat feels.

“Wouldn’t have said so if I felt otherwise, Harrington.”

There she is, he thinks. You really want him. Just like he does you. He can’t believe it.

“Again with the picking. You’re so mean to me.”

You smirk, your hands finding his sides again. You seem to have some attachment to them, and Steve wonders if it’s because you know there are scars underneath. If you’re telling him more than what you can bear to say. Giving him a glimpse of all you have to offer him, all the love you might hope to share.

“I’ll show you mean, you little shit.”

You press your lips against his before you can second guess yourself, before you let that little voice win.

Steve hums in surprise, but it’s clear he’s not upset by the gesture with the way he responds to your touch. His hands find your neck, thumbs stroking over your cheeks.

He’s kissing you back, and fuck if he’s not trying to tell you everything he’s been feeling.

When you pull away for air, Steve’s too greedy to let you go. He pecks your lips once, twice more, and when he really can’t breathe, he peppers your face instead. Now that you’ve given him the chance, he seriously can’t get enough of you.

“Damn.”

You laugh, and push that strand of hair back where it goes, this time getting to it before he can.

You take Steve’s wrist in your hand. It’s late. You hadn’t realized how worn out you were, but you are.

“Can we go to sleep?” you ask, searching his brown eyes. His lashes are unfairly long, but you’ll have to berate him about it later.

“Do I get another one of those before bed?” He’s already hauling you up the stairs, wanting you settled.

“If you’re good.”

————

“So when did it happen?” Robin’s voice is almost accusatory.

“What?”

You’re standing close enough to Steve to ensure that you can hear Robin on the other side.

“When did this love confession take place?”

“That’s not what it was—”

“Just tell me when, dingus!”

“Last night, after we got home. She told me she didn’t want it to be fake anymore.”

“Shit!”

Steve rolls his eyes. You fuss with the belt loops on his jeans, trying to figure out what she’s been up to. “What did you do?” he asks.

“I owe Dustin twenty.”

“You bet on us?” Your voice is loud enough that she hears it, and you know she’s cringing even if you can’t see it.

“Maybe? Yes. I bet that you’d give up the act later than that, that you two would be cowards about it. Figured you’d both wallow in self pity for a while before you just came out and said how you feel.”

Steve looks at you, and mouths: Are you hearing this?

Robin keeps going. “Dustin said you’d come to your senses quicker than that. He bet on the wedding day specifically. Goddamnit!”

You take the phone from Steve, and his forehead meets your shoulder. You can feel the way he shakes with laughter.

“Thanks for having so much faith in us, Rob.”

She chuckles. “What? You’re both extremely good at lying to yourselves. I expected this to be much more dramatic.”

“Mhm,” you start, a plan forming in your mind. Steve can almost feel it. “Hey, Robin?”

“Yes?”

“Just for that, I’m calling in sick for Steve today. That shift is all yours.”

“No. Nononono—”

You hang up the phone. That means there won’t be the buffer that is Steve Harrington to prevent Robin having to interact with Keith. She’ll be stuck with him all evening.

“That was just cruel,” Steve laughs.

You cross your arms. “Oh, so you wanna go in then?”

He smiles at you and holds his arms out. You move into the circle of them. His hands find your waist and squeeze. “No, I didn’t say that. I haven’t had a day off in months.”

“So quit whining.”

“See? I’ve only been your real boyfriend for like, a matter of hours, and you’re still being so mean to me.”

You lean forward and press a sweet kiss to his lips. It seems to appease him.

“Was that mean?”

“Not at all.”

You grin and kiss the corner of his mouth.

“Mean and a tease. Wow.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “Only for you, Stevie.”

He takes your face in his hands, fingers pushing gently into your skin.

“Damn right.”

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

tagging: @clovermunson

#savannah’s fics #steve harringtion #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #robin buckley #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington comfort

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oneforthemunny · 2 months

Text

yayo (remastered) |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: when your younger sister calls you to pick her and her friend up, it leads you to meeting her friend's dad.

this is the first chapter of the older!eddie remaster! title stays the same, i'm just revamping it :) you can read the original series here!

contains: age gap (eddie is early forties, reader is late twenties early thirties, all consensual), language, teenage stupidity of younger siblings (and their friends) lol, slightly mean eddie but not really.

word count: 3.5k+

“Hello?” A groggy, croak of an answer fell from your lip. Eyelids pulled together, weights of sleep held them closed, pressing the cool screen of your phone to your ear.

There was a pause, nearly timid in response. “Hey.” The familiar tone ridded whatever sleepiness you still felt, kickstarted every instinct of panic, flooding through your veins, right down to your core.

“It’s me.” You pulled the phone away to check anyways, Madeline’s name flashing across the screen, still decorated with a flurry of bright, smiley emojis from when she added them years ago.

“What’s wrong?” Call it older sister instinct, maybe dread, but you knew by the tightness in her tone something was wrong.

“Will you do me a favor?” Madeline sucked in a breath from the other line. “A big favor, like a huge one. Please, I’ll owe you one back forever, and-”

“-What do you need?” You muttered, too groggy to be fully annoyed, legs swinging out of the warmth of your covers to the frigid wood of the apartment’s floor. Using the soft, purple glow of Roku Village on the TV, you stumbled around towards the light switch. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I am. Well, I mean- like physically, I’m fine.” Madeline paused, hesitation filling the line. “Look, you can’t tell Mom or Dad. Do you swear?”

“What did you do?” There was the irritation, falling with a huff of pure annoyance, one only a younger sibling could bring- affection and annoyance, blended together and pouring from your tongue.

“No, you gotta swear. Swear on your life you won’t tell.” Madeline’s voice was fiercer now, that hushed tone that you were too familiar with.

“Ok, I swear. What do you need? Why the hell are you calling me at,” You pulled your phone back, blearily blinking to clear the clouded sleep in your vision. “Christ, at two in the morning?-”

“-Don’t start.” Madeline rolled her eyes. “C-Can you come get me and my friend?”

“From where?” You frowned, stopping in the middle of the room.

“We’re in Chestnut Square, you know the neighborhood that the Henson’s live in? It’s, like, two streets over. I can drop you a pin.” Madeline danced around the request.

“Why are you there?” You knew. Of course you knew. It wasn’t all that long ago you were in Chestnut Square or near the Quarry by Lover’s Lake, sipping on wine coolers and shitty beers that someone got from the gas station by the high school that never carded.

“Why do you think I’m here?” Madeline clipped in annoyance, a huff of staticed annoyance falling from the other line. “I’m at a party-”

“-On a Wednesday?” You scoffed. “You couldn’t even wait until Friday or Saturday like a normal delinquent? On a weekday, Madeline, seriously-”

“-Look, can you come pick me up or not?” Madeline snapped, and you could practically see her eyes roll through the phone. “I didn’t drive. Brielle and I got picked up and the guy who brought us, he’s… he’s not doing great right now, and we just need to get home. Can you please come pick us up?”

The streets were a ghost town as you cruised towards the neighborhood, opposite from your downtown apartment. You had work tomorrow, an early shift. Madeline couldn’t have done this yesterday on your off day, or even Friday when you closed. Your jaw set at the thought, a burst of sleep deprived, inconveniencing annoyance bursting in your chest, burning with bother.

Still, Madeline was your baby sister, difficult as she was, you were glad she called you.

You followed the automated voice towards the end of the neighborhood, the house bright with lights and lined with cars. Madeline was on the curb, arm wrapped tightly around the girl beside her, steadying her sway.

“Hey,” Madeline muttered, pulling the door open. “Thank you so much. Seriously, you’re the best.”

“The best.” Brielle slid in before Madeline. Well, slid was generous, more like fell into your back seat.

Brielle Munson had been Madeline’s best friend for years. A staple in her childhood, and therefore a figure in your own life. Countless sleepovers, birthday parties, you’d even carpooled them to school your senior year when they started middle school.

As well as you knew her, you never took her as the black out on a Wednesday type, but your mother had often made passing, hushed tone comments about Brielle’s own mother. “She’s a little different. Kinda a wild card.” Your mother muttered to you one day, brows raising in a pointed look. You didn’t know much about Brielle’s family, never met them. Brielle always came over to your family’s house- you figured that was why.

“Is she good?” You muttered, pulling the rearview mirror down, angling it towards Brielle. Her head pressed in slopped defeat against the cool window, forehead rolling over the cold glass.

Madeline turned. “Brie, you good?”

“‘M good, ‘m good. Are we gonna get Cook Out?” Brielle slurred, cheek pressed to the window.

You huffed, another thing to add to the mental list of Madeline’s inconveniences- cleaning your windows of the foundation Brielle left behind tomorrow.

“Is she gonna puke?” You huffed, shoving the gear into place, rolling away from the front of the house.

“No, she’s not gonna puke-”

“-Madeline, if she fuckin’ pukes, I swear to God, you will be cleaning it tonight.” You sneer, eyes flickering towards the rearview to see Brielle. “I can’t handle puke, I will not handle puke-”

“-She won’t puke.” Madeline huffed, arms crossing over her chest in annoyance. “Brie, don’t puke.”

“I won’t.” Brielle muttered, slouching down the window.

“She’s almost asleep. She’s good.” Madeline shook her head. “We gotta take Brielle home first. Take a right up here.” She pointed out the window.

“Great, I’m the fucking Uber tonight, too? Madeline, I have to work in the morning-”

“-It’s literally two minutes away.” Madeline rolled her eyes. “She’s at her dad’s tonight. It won’t take that long. I just have to get her back in her room- shit.” Madeline turned in her seat, tapping Brielle’s knee. “Brie, you gotta wake up, ok? You have to get back to your room.”

“Nice.” You threw your hands up, irritation bubbling to a raging boil in your chest. “You’ve got to sneak her back in? How are you gonna do that?”

“She snuck out through her window, chill.” Madeline rolled her eyes. “Turn right at the light.”

“So, you’re going to do what? Shove her back in? I’m not helping you. I said I’d come pick you up, and that’s it-”

“-Did I ask you to help? No.” Madeline snarled. “Brielle, wake up, seriously.”

“I’m literally awake.” Brielle groaned, though her eyes stayed shut.

“Where am I going?” You threw a hand out lightly.

“Keep going straight.” Madeline muttered, body still twisted towards the back. “Brie, do you have your phone?”

“I think so.” Brielle muttered, lazily patting herself before turning towards the seat. “Oh, ‘s right here.”

“Turn left into this neighborhood. Then at the stop sign take a right, her house is on the corner.” Madeline turned back towards you.

You flicked the turn signal on with dramatic irritation, gliding into the neighborhood to the small house on the corner of the street, the edge of the cul de sac. Bloomington Lane, the street sign stood proudly above the stop sign at the edge of the road.

“Cut your lights.” Madeline muttered, climbing over the center console towards the back of the car. You felt like you were in high school again, flooding of your own memories, sneaking your friends back inside, coming through the unlocked window in the guest room. Watching Madeline help Brielle, crouched over her trying to get her sober enough to walk, it felt like a lifetime and yesterday all at once.

Your reminiscent memories were cut short when the porch light flicked on, a blinding cast of warm light cutting through the calm, dark of the street.

“Shit,” Madeline hissed, wide eyed and caught, looking out the window. “Shit, shit, shit, Brie, you gotta get up. You gotta get up for real, your dad is here, Brie.”

“No, he’s asleep.” Brielle muttered, head lolling back against the seat drunkenly.

“Madeline.” You hissed, eyes cutting towards the porch, a silhouette of a man stalking furiously towards you. You weren’t sure if you should look, turn away, drive away, a sweaty, knuckled grip on the steering wheel.

“Fuck, that’s Brielle’s dad.” Madeline whispered.

“Madeline,” You growled through gritted teeth. “What the fuck-” You jumped, bare knuckles rapping furiously on your window. Through the glare of the radio on your window, you could see him on the other side.

“Hi,” You squeaked, rolling down the window. “Sorry, I-I’m just-”

“-Who the fuck are you?” His voice boomed, sharp and cutting as the look on his face. You flinched under the tone.

“I-I,-”

“-Hi, Mr. Munson.” Madeline peeked timidly around your seat. His dark eyes flicked towards her, still narrowed in intimidating challenge. “We’re just, we’re bringing Brielle home.” Madeline’s voice shook, though she tried to swallow it, steady it. “This is my sister.”

You waved, tongue too thick and swollen to say anything. Now you really felt like you were in high school again, scared shitless, caught like a deer in blinding headlights by a furious parent.

“She came and got Brielle and I.” Madeline didn’t offer any more explanation, instead nodding towards Brielle.

“The fuck is wrong with her?” The spitting venom in his tone made you jump.

“She-She just had too much to drink.” You stammered, hands still gripping the wheel.

He tore open the backseat door, Madeline holding Brielle to keep her from falling limply out onto the concrete. “What is wrong with her? Did someone drug her?” He snapped, holding Brielle carefully.

“No, no, n-no, I was there with her all night. We brought our own-” Madeline cringed at the glare Mr. Munson gave her. You cringed for her. “She didn’t get drugged. I-I made sure. I watched her, she just… she had too much to drink, Mr. Munson, I’m so sorry.”

“Where’d you get it from?” He sneered, pulling his daughter out of the car with a gritted grunt. “You buy it for them?” His eyes were back on you, so harsh it had you jumping.

“No.” You and Madeline squeaked in unison.

“I just came and-and got them-”

“-I called her to make sure she’d get us home safe.” Madeline added, head bobbing furiously in a nervous nod.

“Yeah.” You looked at Madeline, then back at the fuming man. Brielle sliding in his arms, limp in his hold. “Here, I-I can help you get her in-”

“-No.” He sneered, pulling Brielle up, ignoring her muttered huffs of protest. “I don’t need your help. You’ve done enough tonight.” You felt small under his glare, biting tone that had you shrinking into your seat.

“I-I’m really sorry.” You muttered nervously, heart drumming with adrenaline, with fear. You didn’t know why you were apologizing, if anything, you’d made the one smart decision of the night. You thought Mr. Munson might appreciate that you’d gone to bring his daughter home safe.

The narrowed eye glare he tossed you before he was dragging Brielle towards the house, told you he did not appreciate your vigilant efforts. Your face drained, a flush of heat and icy fear sinking in the pit of your stomach. He slammed the door so hard, you were surprised the glass swinging door didn’t shatter to pieces right there on the porch.

You turned to Madeline, fists still clenched around the steering wheel. “You owe me. You owe me so much more now, like forever. For the rest of your life.” You sneered, shoving the gear shift into drive, peeling off the curb. You couldn’t get away from Bloomington Lane fast enough.

“You alright?” Lydia’s brows furrow at your third- fourth yawn of the shift. A shift that had just begun, your teeth ground tight in annoyance.

“Yeah.” You nodded, snapping the receipt cover down. “Is there any way I could get off register? I’m just super tired. My brain’s not really wanting to work this morning.”

“Yeah, for sure. You sure you’re alright?” Lydia’s head tilted to the side, snapping the plastic lid to the latte expertly. You and Lydia Allcott had practically grown up together, been in school since Kindergarten. It was lucky, you guessed, that she was your manager. Perks of a small town like Hawkins.

“Yeah, I’m just exhausted. I was up all night because Madeline is a moron. Snuck out and I had to drive her and her friend home, and then her friend’s dad was waiting outside when she got home- it’s just been a night, honestly.” You rubbed the base of your neck, working out a knot that was already beginning to form from your restless night.

Lydia sucked in a breath. “Oh,” She shook her head. “I forget you have a younger sister.”

You snort lightly, pouring the steaming dark roast into the cup. “Yeah, me too. Until she does something stupid like that.”

Lydia smirked, sliding the drink down the bar. “Brooke just got here. Tell her to hop on register, and you can go clean the tables.”

You had never been so happy to be carrying the soapy, black bucket out on the floor, sudsy rag dragging slowly across the empty tables. It was slow for a Thursday, the morning school and work rush dwindled down to a ghost town. Not that you were complaining.

The bell trilled over the door behind you, Brooke’s cheery, fake greeting echoing through the store. You didn’t turn, pushing the rag over the table, dunking it back in the bucket, wringing it out, and repeating. A rhythmic task that had your mind numbed, zoned in brainlessly from table to table.

“Hi.” You jumped slightly, soapy water spilling over the lip of the bucket onto the table.

Your posture straightened, turning with the expectancy of a customer wanting some specific table cleaned that you hadn’t yet got to. Instead, you were met with a familiar pair of dark eyes, not as furious as they’d been last night but burning even in the low light of the cafe.

“Hi.” You squeaked, gripping the rag in your hand, the water dripping between your fingers. “Um, wha-what can I help you with, Mr. Munson?” Fuck, he’d come back to scream some more. And at your work? How did he even know? You didn’t even have it on Facebook.

You were shocked when his lips twitched, a faint pull of smirk on his lips. “I don’t mean to bother you.” He started, hand wrapped around the small cup in his hand. “I’m not here to- I’m here to apologize.”

You couldn’t speak, tongue stupidly thick in your mouth again. Instead you nodded, a soft bob of your head. “And I wanted to thank you for bringing Brielle home last night. For making sure she got home alright. She could have…” He shook his head, looking over at the window.

“She could have done something stupid, and I’m glad you were there so she didn’t.” Your heart leapt when his eyes met yours again, a pounding in your ears that rang through your whole body.

“I-It’s really no problem.” You stuttered, voice wavering on embarrassingly unsure.

“No, it means a lot, and I was a complete ass to you last night, and I’m here to say I’m sorry for that.” Your eyes lingered over the patch on his coveralls, a cursive, embroidered ‘Eddie’ over the faded blue patch.

“I shouldn’t’ve been such a dick, but you go to say goodnight to your kid, and there’s a pile of pillows instead, and- I know you don’t get it. You’re too young.” He motioned at you casually. Your cheeks burned, looking down at your bucket, hand still stupidly gripping the rag under the water.

“But y’know, if you have kids of your own, you’ll get it.” Eddie continued, his own ramblings a little rushed. Was he nervous?

“Yeah- I mean, i-it really was no issue. I’m glad she got home safe.” You smiled softly at him.

A pause fell between the two of you, both of you shifting a little uncomfortably at it. “I hope this isn’t weird.” You looked at him. “Me coming here. I asked Brielle where you worked so I could apologize.”

“No, it’s- thank you. You didn’t need to apologize, I mean. I get why you were mad, I do.” You cringed inwardly at your own nervous rambling. “But, um, I appreciate it. You apologizing, I mean. I’m glad she got home safe.”

Eddie nodded, fingers curling around his drink. “Me too.” He nodded. “Glad she has Madeline too, to look after her. That they’re friends. I mean, Brie’s always been good at makin’ friends. She’s really talkative.” Your heart swelled lightly at the way he lit up when he talked about Brielle, boasting with pride and joy. It tugged on your own heart strings.

“Yeah, Madeline is too. She loves Brie, though. Brielle sees her more than me.” You giggled lightly.

Eddie snorted softly, lips curling in a grin. “Yeah, you too? Thought it was just me.” He shook his head, curls bouncing lightly. You tried not to stare. “Makes me feel a little better, then. At least I know it’s not all me.”

You weren’t sure what to say, offering a nervous smile and soft giggle, adjusting the bucket on your hip. That familiar pause of silence flooded back between the two of you, not as uncomfortable as before but still hinting at discomfort.

“So, I wanted to say thank you, and sorry for being such an asshole.” Eddie nodded, foot tapping lightly against the floor. “But, uh, I’d really like to make it up to you.” Your eyes lifted, snapping towards his own gaze carefully.

“I'd like to treat you to dinner if you're free. Just to show my appreciation for keeping my girl safe.” Eddie started, eyes watching yours carefully.

Your heart hammered, breath caught- strangled in your throat. “Oh,” You managed to squeak out. “That would be f-fine.” Your head was still spinning before you could register what you were even saying.

Saying yes to Brielle’s dad? Her father, much older than you, certainly than the type of man you usually let take you to dinner. Still, he wasn’t unattractive. Coverall sleeves rolled enough to see his inked arms, chest broad under the thick material. He didn’t look old, not shriveled and gross. He was nice to look at, even. You certainly didn’t mind looking at him.

“I-I have to close tomorrow, but I’m free Saturday night.” Your heart jumped, shocked at your own boldness. Eddie’s brows lifted slightly, lips curling on the edge of a grin. “If you’re available, of course. Sorry, I- when works best for you?”

“Saturday night is perfect.” Eddie’s voice was calm, a steady tone that had your rattled nerves soothing, at least to a low roar in your chest.

“Great.” You smiled, a little too eager, far less cool than you would have liked. Why were you so nervous? Maybe excited?

“Um, let me give you my phone number?” It sounded more like a question, setting the bucket on the table, wiping your wet, dripping hand on your black apron. You fished a pen out of the pocket, hoping Eddie couldn’t see the way your hands trembled lightly, buzzing with giddy excitement.

“And you can just text me a-and let me know where to meet you.” You pulled a napkin out of the dispenser, chin dunking to write your digits on the thin paper.

“I’ll pick you up.” Eddie nodded. Your gaze lifted to him, the finality in his tone, firm but oddly not pushy? It was foreign to you, sent bolts of exhilaration trickling through your spine.

You started to protest, lips pulling in a slight frown. Eddie shook his head. “I’m old school, sweetheart. I’ll come and get you.” He smiled, eyes much warmer than you’d seen them, the hinting of dimples creasing underneath his stubble.

Your knees tensed, swallowing down a bubbling of nervous giggles, giving a wide smile instead. Your fingertips brushed when you handed him the napkin, a featherlight touch that had your body roaring with fever.

“I’ll see you Saturday.” Eddie smiled, so effortlessly cool it made your stomach flip-flop. “You don’t work too hard now, y’hear?” He teased, tossing you a wink that did pull out the nervous giggles you couldn’t swallow down this time.

"Bye." You waved, the rag in your hand flopping against your wrist, cringing when the droplets hit your face. Eddie waved back, tucking the napkin in his pocket before he disappeared out the double doors.

The drag in your feet was replaced with a springing pep in your step. Greeting customers with a cheery smile, much less dreadful than your usually forced one. Even the huffy soccer moms ordering with the usual demanding entitlement that would have you gritting your teeth. It didn’t bother you, chest light and airy with excitement, mind racing with giddy excitement about your date.

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willsimpforanyone · 9 months

Note

Do you think you could do a leo valdez smut? Where the reader is more introverted and quiet outside in day to day stuff but gets really flirty in bed or and alone with Leo

i can absolutely do that for u <3

obv everyone is an adult! they get given wine! they have an apartment! u think anyone under the age of 25 can afford their own flat rn?

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I smile softly as Leo's friends laugh loudly. His hand rests on my thigh and I lean my head on his shoulder, content to just listen to the conversation for now.

It was nice having people round now that we'd officially moved into our apartment, various friends bringing wine and sweet treats that Leo and I got to indulge in once everyone had gone.

Leo turns his head, lips just touching my ear. "You alright, baby?"

I nod, hand reaching for his on my thigh and squeezing it. "Yeah, I'm good." Satisfied, Leo presses a quick kiss to my cheek and returned to the conversation at hand.

After another hour or so, it was decided that people should leave- it was late, the sun just setting and goodbyes were said. I stay back, waving and accepting hugs as they were given to me, but otherwise letting Leo deal with corralling people out our door.

The lock clicks shut, and he breathes a sigh of relief, resting his forehead against the door. "I love mis amigos, I do but holy shit." He turns, tired eyes and tired smile meeting mine. "They sure are loud, huh?"

I laugh, wandering over to him and wrapping my arms around his waist. "You're loud too, y'know."

He slips his hands behind my back, pulling me closer and pressing a kiss to my nose. "Well, yeah, but I'm cute, so."

"Very much so." I wink at him, enjoying the light dust of red that settled on his nose at the gesture. "Kinda hot too, I guess."

Leo gasps, offended. "'Kinda hot'? Excuse you, I'm gorgeous!" He wriggles out of my grip, stalking across the room in a dramatic fashion to the bedroom door. Eyes flashing, he whips his head back to look at me. "You should think yourself lucky!" And he waltzs into the bedroom, leaving the door open.

I laugh, walking to where he'd disappeared. He's sat on the bed, arms folded, muttering something about 'kinda hot' and 'outrageous'. Rolling my eyes fondly, I pad over to him, pulling at his crossed arms until he gave in, failing to hide a grin.

"Fine, okay? You're gorgeous." I lean down to press a kiss to his cheek. "And handsome." Kiss to his other cheek. "And hot." Kiss to his nose. "And so, incredibly, unbelievably sexy." I catch his lips in a kiss, my hands coming up to cradle his head. His eyes slip shut and he hums against my lips.

I pull back to see him properly, a slightly glazed look coming over his face and a dopey smile contrasting my sharper smirk. "Aww, aren't you pretty? I get all you attention now, don't I, baby?"

Leo nods before he even registers the question and I squeeze his cheeks together. It barely takes a hand against his chest to get him to lay down on the bed, the air punched out of his lungs at the force. I climb on top of him, eyes narrow and predatory.

Before he can say anything, I dive down into the junction between his neck and shoulder, licking a stripe up his skin. His breath catches in his throat and I bite down very lightly. His hands fly to my hips, fingers tangling in the fabric of my tshirt.

"I swear," he whispers. "No one would ever believe me if I told them what you were really like."

I give him a curious hum, hands slowly holding his and guiding them above his head.

Leo groans as he pinned, my lips still attached to his neck. "You're so... quiet, inside yourself when we're around people." I feel him clear his throat. "W-why is that?"

I pull back, looking a little thoughtful. Leo's hands, now free as I rest mine on my thighs, return to holding my hips. "I mean, I'm introverted, I guess. Not good with large groups of people, no matter how nice they might be." I smirk down at him, settling into his lap a little further and drawing a whine from my boyfriend. "And anyway, right now I'd rather have something else inside me."

Leo actively chokes on air, eyes wide. "H-holy shit, see? This is what I mean!" He sits up, fingers pulling at the jeans I'm wearing. "You're a deceptive thing, intent on making me die."

"Lies." I lean back over him, grinding my hips down as Leo swears in Spanish. "Lies and slander, I tell you."

I don't even give him enough time to reply, undoing his jeans and slipping my hand over his cock. His eyes widened and his grip on my hips tightened. "O-okay, fuck..."

I hop off of him, beginning to strip. "Everything off, Valdez, now."

He nearly fell off the bed with how quickly he pulled his jeans off, head briefly getting stuck in his tshirt. I laugh and help him out of it, then made quick work of my underwear.

Leo's eyes were darting over me, absorbing my body. His hands reached out, smoothing over my stomach and round my back to pull me to him again. "How... how are you so gorgeous? I don't understand..." His voice is breathy and I shrug, electing not to answer but instead reach down and slide my fingers through my folds.

My hand comes back shiny and wet, and I tap two fingers against Leo's mouth. He obediently taked them into his mouth, cleaning them. He looks so fucking pretty, dark curly hair dusting over tanned skin and slender arms wrapping around me.

"Ready?"

He nods frantically, shifting back as I straddle his legs. "Nope, words, baby."

Leo swallows, blinking and trying to focus. "Y-yes, green, verde, very much yes!"

I don't bother supressing a laugh, grasping his cock and jerking it quickly, pulling him to full hardness as he gasps and his hips twitch under my touch. I waste no more time, hissing through my teeth as I push down, the slight sting of being filled making me dig my nails into Leo's chest.

He almost stops breathing as soon as I'm sat in his lap, his dick fully inside me and I can feel his stomach muscles tensing with restraint under me. I breathe out, adjusting to the feeling, rocking very slightly back and forth. Leo swallows, eyelashes fluttering as he looks up at me.

"Y-you're gonna kill me, but at this point? I really don't care."

I merely grin, settling my hands on his chest before I began to ride him in earnest. I wrench moans and whimpers from his lips, my nails carving crescent moons into his flesh and his fingers bruising my hips from how tightly he was holding them.

Leo's hips push up into me as best he can, rhythm steady at first, then becoming more sporadic as he chases his end, eyes squeezed shut.

"Forget what they'd think of me, what would your friends think of you, baby?" I tease, a wicked smirk settling on my lips as Leo throws his head back and slurs something in Spanish.

"C-close, so close, fu-uck...!" He groans out, snapping his hips into me. I nearly fall, catching myself with my arms either side of his head. My lips caress his cheek, leading to his ear.

"You don't get to come before I do, understand?"

He nods, whining out a 'yes' and one of his hands leaves my hips, instead locating my clit and applying circular pressure that knocks the wind out of me. I clutch at the bedsheets, the combination of his cock hitting deep inside me and his thumb sending me spiralling into pleasure, my orgasm slamming into me like a wave.

By this point, Leo knows my body so well he can tell the exact moment I come, taking that as permission so he can follow suit. It only takes a few more seconds before he's gasping, crying out my name and holding me flush against him.

We breathe in time, and I feel his heartrate slowly regulate. I press kisses onto any piece of skin I can reach without moving, silently loving him. He strokes my back, seemingly content for me to just lie on him until we can both be bothered to move.

"So. Did I kill you?"

Leo laughs breathlessly. "Yes, you did, you're awful, now don't ever move away, ever."

------------------------------------

this legit took me hours bc my brain did NOT want to play nicely but i hope you enjoyed it! thank you for requesting!

#leo valdez smut #reader x leo valdez #leo valdez imagine #leo imagine #leo valdez

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kookslastbutton · 9 months

Text

Too Late to Dream ༓ jjk (m)┃ch. V

✑ Summary: You did it. You married your college professor. You even bought a house together. Against all odds, everything had fallen into place. But after two years of marriage, you begin feeling something was missing. You want a baby but your husband can’t say the same.

Pairing: economics professor!jungkook x fem!artist!reader

AU/Genre: angst, smut, fluff, marriage au, age gap, series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 3,342

Warnings: 8-year age gap, mentions of professor-student relationship (oc was a Masters student), jk has milk obsession, oc injured, both lonely :(, mommy issues, lots of family drama/in-laws, fighting, pent-up issues/desires, jk has daddy issues, jk being good hubby to oc

Now Playing: Make It Right, Tryna Be, Infinity, It Will Rain, Heaven+

A/N: I've heard the requests and I think it's time to fulfill them–how did they get together?! Yes, it's here and I'm excited to finally share! Also, yes this took up whole chapter so a tiny break from present-day stuff but we'll be back at it next chapter. 💞

<< ch. IV ༓ ch. Vl >> | series masterlist

Before marrying you, Jungkook had the same routine. He got up, showered, brushed his teeth, put work clothes on, grabbed breakfast, and ran out the door with twenty minutes to spare. Trying to find a parking spot at 7 a.m. at the university was no joke and he had to leave early or some college kid would take the last spot and not think twice.

His night routine was similar. Jungkook finished the day between 5 and 6 pm, slowly regretting he ever agreed to teach evening classes. He’d kick off his shoes, eat dinner, grade some of his student’s papers if needed, brush his teeth again, and went to bed.

It was a constant cycle and with no one around, not even a pet, Jungkook’s life was fairly quiet and systematic. Sometimes his buddies would come over on the weekend for a couple of hours and that surely rocked his world.

But that wouldn’t happen often during the school season due to his ridiculously packed teaching schedule. The most recent person he’d hang around during those months was Taehyung and if he wasn’t free, Jungkook would spend his time at the grocery store–stocking up on milk.

4 years ago

“That was two weeks ago man,” Jungkook says, pushing a cart with five-gallon jugs of milk to his car. He’s on the phone with Taehyung who's reminiscing about the grand opening of the new art exhibit and how “lovely” it was to meet you there.

Jungkook doesn’t need reminding though.

He clearly remembers seeing you there and Taehyung happily making a complete fool of him once he found out who you were. Thankfully you hadn’t seemed to mind too much since you and Taehyung soon moved on to discuss various art theories, masterpieces, and underrepresented artists.

“You didn't have to stay y'know.” If Jungkook didn't know any better he'd think Taehyung was salty. "You could've left at 8 pm like you planned. __ and I would have been fine."

Jungkook winces hearing the man's argument. He did think about going home at 8, but it unsettled him to leave you alone with Taehyung. His colleague was enjoying himself a little too much that night and there’s no telling what he’d do or say when he’s overly comfortable.

Jungkook had to stay until you left.

"Are you kidding me? Leaving you unsupervised would've been the worst idea after all your endless blubbering." Jungkook pops the trunk of his car, stuffing the jugs of milk inside. "God knows what you'd scar __ with."

On the other line, Taehyung smirks through the speaker. "No, that's not it......you weren't going to leave me alone with a woman, an attractive one at that."

Jungkook grabs the last jug of milk, slamming it on the floorboard. "Student, and stop talking about her like that. She's my stu—"

"Say student one more time and I'm going to take all your milk and give it to Yoongi hyung's cats."

"I swear to god, Taehyung, if you touch my milk I'm never going to another art museum or wine tasting with you again." Jungkook is very protective of his dairy products.

"That's okay. I don't need you when __ says she'll be happy to go with me sometime." Smug bastard, Jungkook thinks. There's no way you said that.

"That's bull Taehy—"

"Look she's in her masters and is literally eight years younger than you. It's not that serious so stop acting like she's fresh out of high school. Besides, you said it yourself, she's not a child."

Jungkook grunts, shoving the cart into the others. "She's a young lady who happens to be enrolled in the school. As faculty, we have no business thinking or talking about her outside those terms."

"For fucksake, Kook. You always make things so complicated!" Taehyung's baritone voice cracks through the speaker. "I'm just trying to get you to admit that you're into her some way or another. How many other students have I stayed to talk to and you couldn't give a—"

Just then a loud, high-pitch screech interrupts the call. Jungkook whips his head around immediately. He doesn't spot anything at first but a string of profanities remains audible in the distance.

"Jungkook, are you okay?"

"Yeah, but someones screaming and I can't tell where it's coming from." Jungkook walks around the grocery parking lot, eyes darting left and right. "Oh shit!"

There, near the bus stop, you lay on your side with your right leg stretched out and blood running from your temple. You try getting up but you fall right back down, cursing sharply.

"Taehyung I gotta go, it's __. I don't know what happened but she's laying by the bus stop and I think she needs help!" Jungkook shuts his phone and races to where you lay. He kneels next to you with sheer horror on his face. "__, what happened? What can I do?"

"Damn college boys, Dr. Jeon," you spit, dragging your leg up as far as you can. You reach for your bag which had flung about a foot away when you crashed. "So fucking eager to get off the bus and—oh damn that hurts like a bitch!"

"What hurts?" Jungkook lunges forward to catch your torso from slamming on the hard concrete. "Stay still okay? We need to get you to the hospital."

"I'm all set, but thanks. It'll likely heal in a day."

Jungkook shakes his head and wraps an arm under your back and legs. "Can you put your arms around my neck?"

"Dr. Jeon, I appreciate what you're doing but I don't want to go to the hospital. Please."

You're serious. No trace of bluffing or even simply trying to act tough. You really don't want to go.

"You need to be checked by a doctor sweetheart," Jungkook insists. "Whatever happened has made it so you can't walk. C'mon, my car is nearby and I'll drive you over."

"No, wait!" He feels you push against his chest.

"__. I'm not leaving you without making sure you didn't break a bone or something. I don't want to make things worse but you don't look so hot right now. So please, let me take you." Jungkook lifts you up when you give a barely consenting yes.

"You sprained your ankle pretty bad hun." Dr. Kim Seokjin draws your attention to the X-ray scan. "Second degree." He points to the visual of your partially torn ligament. "There's going to be a lot of swelling so you're gonna need to stay off your foot for at least 4 weeks."

"Do I have to stay here?" is your first question.

"For the first couple of weeks, we strongly advise—yes." Dr. Kim moves on to the next X-ray scan. "You also cracked a rib which will also take about 4 weeks to heal, or more. Of course you're head has suffered a mild concussion as well but it's very mild thankfully." Dr. Kim catches sight of Jungkook next to you, staring at the scans. "You're wife's going to be okay," he says mid-diagnoses.

"We're not—" you start to say but Dr. Kim continues talking.

"Wife, girlfriend, lover, what have you. The point is, much of what we have here will recover with a month of rest, ice, and elevation." He takes a pen from his pocket and starts jotting down something on paper. "I recommend two weeks here for moderation purposes. If things look good, you finish the healing at home. Still, be careful though, no funny business."

The blank looks on both your faces tell Dr. Kim he wasn't clear enough. "Yah, my filters going to die with you two doe-eyed deer. No funny business means no sex!"

"Oh god!" You outburst, mortified by the thought. Jungkook whips his head to your slack-jawed expression. "Dr. Kim, it's not like that between us."

The older man suddenly zeros in on your professor, eyes narrowing slightly. "What's the matter son? Having trouble getting it up?"

Jungkook jolts in his seat, startled by the crass response. "I—no, what? There's nothing wrong with my—"

"We're not together!" You shout before Jungkook's sentence finishes. "We're friends." Saying that your professor brought you here sounded a little odd for some reason, especially when Dr. Kim was already convinced you two were a thing.

"Mhm sure, heard the same thing from my wife before we went off and eloped." Dr. Kim treads to the door. If he has a dime for how many times he's heard that "we're friends" bs he'd be...well, he's already rich so never mind. "Let's move on to something more productive now, like getting __ settled in a room. The sooner she starts the healing process, the sooner she can be good as new again."

"Thank you Dr. Kim," Jungkook says, slowly standing up to stroll you and your wheelchair out of the room. You didn't like it but the nurses insisted you be in one to keep pressure off your muscles.

"Yeah yeah." Dr. Kim waves him off. "Just remember what I said, no funny business. Especially here at the hospital. You don't know how many times I've heard the nurses catching their patients on top of one another at 2 am in the morning. That better not be you two, whoever you are to each other."

"Yes, doctor." You both reply, thankful of the fact that neither of you are in any position to be looking at each other.

"Is there any way I can be here for less than two weeks?" Jungkook watches as you plead with the nurse. It worries him that you're still anxious to avoid medical attention.

"I'm afraid not," the nurse says simply. "If you need anything, press the call button and I'll be in as soon as I can."

Once the nurse leaves, Jungkook pulls up a chair next to your bed. "Stupid question but how are you feeling?"

"I'm in an ankle brace, my rib burns, and my head is still dizzy. I'm trapped in the hospital for two weeks and all because a bunch of nineteen-year-old boys couldn't wait to hit up some frat party," you groan, not bearing in mind your tongue. "I'm sorry for dragging you into this Dr. Jeon."

"You didn't drag me into anything __. I'm glad I was there when this happened and I'm even more glad that you're here, getting help." Jungkook clears his throat before continuing. "Even if it isn't ideal for you."

You ignore the subtle pry for information. "Please, Dr. Jeon. You don't have to stay any longer. It's the weekend and I'm sure you have plans."

Jungkook gives a faint smile. "So, you're saying this is none of my business?"

"No, not—not at all. I mean if you want to stay then I guess you can but I don't want you to feel obligated or anything."

"I want to be here," Jungkook says simply. "But you know that's not what I meant. I'd like to know why it bothers you when anyone tries to help you...if I may."

"Just habit," you mumble quickly, averting eye-contact. It's not your professor's job to bear the weight of your problems.

Jungkook nods in reply, pretending you gave a satisfactory explanation. He wishes you'd tell him but if you didn't want to share more then that was your choice —he wasn't going to force you. "I understand." He grabs his phone from his pocket and rests his elbows on his knees. "Are you hungry?"

"Huh?" You look back at him, his question going right over your head.

"I asked if you're hungry. It's about dinner time so I can get you something if you want. I also have a bunch of milk in my trunk that needs to get to a fridge. But I can place the order now and pick it up in my way back here."

"Milk in your trunk?" Is the only words you repeat, dumbfounded. "Like chocolate milk or...?"

"Nah, Whole Milk." Jungkook grins at your scrunched up face. You try to hide it but not very well. "Don't look so disgusted. Milk is good for you."

"Yeah when you're ten years old."

"On the contrary!" You flinch when his voice rises, along with his eyebrows. "Milk has a lot of health benefits as adults. It has thirteen essential nutrients and helps maintain muscle and bone strength. I drink at least two full glasses a day, if not more."

"I'm sorry but that's nasty." You shudder at the thought of drinking milk in your twenties let alone your thirties. "You really enjoy it? The taste?"

"Yup, always have since a baby! Loved it so much that my mother-" You raise an eyebrow to which he abruptly switches topics. "Anyway, do you want me to pick you up something or no?"

You giggle, a little uncomfortable with whatever he was about to disclose to you.

"That's okay, no thanks."

"You sure? Otherwise I'm gonna be eating in front of you." Jungkook knows how this sounds — he's trying to force you to eat. But the truth is, he just doesn't want to eat by himself tonight. He also doesn't want to leave you alone this early, especially when you obviously detest being here, for whatever reason.

"I'm sure," you say. "But...if you want to come back you can. Not like I have anything to do anyway."

"Good then." Pleased, Jungkook opens up his phone contacts. "Give me you're number in case you change your mind while I'm out."

Over the next couple of weeks, Jungkook continues to stay by your side. He leaves to teach his classes of course and to go home late at night, but he stops by every day—hours at a time.

You keep insisting that he not come so much but he always makes the same excuses. "I just brought food" or "You're on my way home from the university". Sometimes he brings in class notes too.

Due to your current predicament, you're missing a lot of content so Jungkook thinks it best to go over key principles with you and takeaways from his lectures. He says it's his duty as a professor–never minding the fact that many of his other students are in a predicament of their own yet he’s not bothering to do jack for them.

"Look Dr. Jeon, I appreciate what you're doing but you really don't have to. I'll be perfectly alright to catch myself up from the textbook and study guides. You don't have to keep stopping by." You try again but Jungkook keeps his wall just as strong as yours.

"I know I don't have to __. I know that I could leave right now, take all these lecture notes home with me, and not feel guilty about a thing. But I told you I was going to be here and I'm going to keep to that no matter how many times you urge me to leave. I also want you to call me Jungkook outside class but have you allowed for any of those to happen?" Jungkook tosses the folder of notes in his sachel, a loud thump following. "A simple thank you would suffice."

"I am grateful, I really am. But I never asked to be given so much of your time. I feel bad because maybe you're just one of those overly nice people who feel it's their duty to stick around or what not when someone's in trouble. I don't need to be pitied over! Also, you said I could keep calling you the usual, so Dr. Jeon it will remain!" Why you're raising your voice, you don't know but it's happening either way.

"Yeah I did," Jungkook quips, matching your tone. "But after the last, nearly two weeks I think we ought to be on a first-name basis! And I'm in no way pitying you okay? I'm here because I care dammit! I don't want you to be alone and I don't want you to be behind in getting your Masters. So I' try to be be here every day for at least fifteen minutes if not more!"

You don't fully process what he says so you reply to what you remember most. "Why? Why can't I call you Dr. Jeon? It's been that way from the start, twice every week. So why do I need to call you Jungkook all a sudden?!"

"Because it makes me feel younger, you insulted my milk after I first took you to the hospital, we've been eating dinner almost every night since your injury, you told me about your childhood cat named Mr. Muttonbottom, and you just called me by my first name so there are no take backs! Now, if you're done making a fit, do you want bibimbap or jajangmyeon for dinner tonight?!"

What the actual hell? You cease your arguing at once, hearing your professor, or excuse you, Jungkook, all fluffed up. Obviously, you're not the only one high-strung over being stuck in the same routine day in, day out.

"Jajangmyeon...please," you mutter.

"Thank fuck," he swears. Yeah that's new too.

"Sorry for getting mad earlier." You mumble the words as soon as Jungkook returns with the food. "It just feels odd that you've been here all the time...you're my professor."

Jungkook mauls over your choice of words, stiffening ever so slightly. "Well, I'd like to think we're sorta friends now but alright. Does this actually bother you __? I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, you know that." He places the bag of take-out on the small desk near your bed.

"No, it's doesn't bother me." you just don't know how to react or what to say besides a measly thank you. More so, you don't want to make someone feel responsible for you...you should take care of your own shit without bringing others with you. It's not the best mindset, you're aware, but its the one you have.

"Okay good because to be completely transparent, I'm sorta here for me too. I live my myself, eat by myself, talk to myself....I do most things alone so it's nice having someone else to be around." He's not sure where to set his eyes, so he looks downward, fumbling with the napkins in front of him. "I'm making this awkward, sorry."

Feeling the strange need to offer comfort, you stretch a hand over Jungkook's arm. "I get it. It's nice having someone around too."

You and Jungkook hold each other's gaze for a few seconds more, letting the brief silence do the rest of the talking. Maybe you've been looking at this a little too one-sided.

"How are you feeling today? Any better?" Jungkook cracks open the bowl of Jajangmyeon, handing it to you with a pair of chopsticks.

You take the steamy food and gesture to your ankle which has swollen down a good amount. "Still more healing to be done but it's better."

Jungkook hums in approval. "That's comforting to hear. Dr. Kim going to discharge you soon?"

"Yeah, I think so. A few more days and he said I should be able to rest up at home."

"Really?" He chews on his bottom lip. "Well great, uhm , do you have stuff going on when you get back?"

You think a moment, trying to recollect if you made plans with Na-Rae. "Maybe some but not much. I don't have a ton of people around me right now either...down here I mean."

"Well, do you wanna go out to dinner then?" Jungkook pops the question more causal than expected. It's almost like he planned this or at least has been thinking about it for a bit. "We've been eating together for a while now and I think it might be a nice celebratory thing."

"Are you asking me on a date...Jungkook?" Because it defiantly sounds like he is, as indirect as it may be.

His reply is barely audible but you hear it and for the first time, your professor sounds truly timid. "Uh, well...let's go with "hang out", like friends do."

A/N: so yeah, thats how they got together 👀😅 anyone surprised? Thinking about a drabble for thier first date now haha. Anyway, next chapter we get back to present day stuff where more drama goes down. Also, adding a chapter bc this flashback took the whole chapter lol. Lmk your thoughts 💞

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cinematicgf · 1 year

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Breaking the Girl~ 18+ dom!joel

Summary: as a casual photographer, you find the opportunity to go with your neglectful boyfriend to his hometown for the summer thrilling. Taking photos of his neighbors and friends whilst not blowing money on a huge vacation sounds perfect, a small job with his mum, neighborhood summer get-togethers and weekend beach trips accompanied by your trusty camera, why not?! But when a certain charming Southern man, known as your boyfriend’s old boss, enters the mix, you cant take your lens off the fine older man, and he cant seem to take it off you either.

Pairings: (no-outbreak) dom!joel miller x sub f!reader

Warnings and notes: 18+, smutty smutty smut, dom!joel and sub!f!reader, piv, dirty talk, pet names (sweetheart, doll, darling), dirty talk, drinking, swearing, oral sex (f! receiving), arguments, age gap (reader is afab! in their early 20s and Joel in in his mid-early 50s), reader in uni, bit of a praise kink ngl, boyfriend being an asshole and Joel being just as charming as ever, reader has some cunty thoughts but good for her honestly, just pure unbridled filth with a semi developed backstory<3 no use of y/n

~ 7.2k (oops)

A/N: hi all<3 I wanna thank you guys for the support of my previous Joel fic, I appreciate it so much<3 this is just a string of pure filth with limited backstory. my inbox is open for requests as usual, your feedback is always welcome and if you enjoy this fic please like, comment and reblog<3

She was the girl Left alone Feeling the need To make me her home

I don't know what, when or why The twilight of love had arrived

Summer was approaching quick and with your exams out of the way and all the stress of the last few months, the final week of university seemed kinda pointless. Yet here you were in class, daydreaming about all the things you would get up to. Perhaps you could rent a sea-side batch and spend your warm afternoons in the ocean before settling down with a book and a bottle of wine for the evenings. Or maybe, you could blow your barista allowance and go to Florida for the sweltering months. Truth is, you didn’t have any plans for the summer, and with the days counting down much too fast to comprehend, you found yourself at a loss for what to do on your break. No matter what you did, however, you know your trusty camera would be tucked to your side, film loaded in and an extra pocket in your bag to store the developed photos. Photography had been a passion of yours for as long as you could remember. You had saved up birthday and Christmas money for years in order to afford a camera for yourself and you had never gone anywhere without it. Unfortunately, the impending doom of your hobby “having no jobs”, as your father put it, meant that you had to change your uni major. Although, you had been cheeky and added in a photography paper here and there, just to satisfy yourself and to no knowledge of your father.

The sound of a backpack being thrown down next to you made you retreat from your thoughts with a jump. Your boyfriend pushed himself into a seat next to you, “So babe”, he began; god, how many times had you told him you hated being called that. “I was thinking, for the summer, you could come back home with me?” he finished. You looked at him with a frown, the last thing you wanted to do was spend another summer cooped up in a small town like the one you grew up in, the one you visited every holidays, just to be wrapped in uncomfortably tight hugs from elders commenting on, “well well, I haven’t seen you since you were this big”, making their hand level with their knees, “look at how pretty you’ve gotten, you have your mothers eyes dear, you must be so proud of her”, they would always say, giving a warm smile to your father as he too looked at you with a grin, knowing how insane you must think these strangers were. You loved seeing your father on breaks, but c’mon, sometimes you yourself needed some time to yourself.

You contemplated his offer briefly, “Hmm I don’t kno—” “Cmon!” he insisted, unwarily cutting you off, “It’ll be great, we can stay in my parents sleep out, I’ll be working for one of my neighbors who I had a job with in high school, and I’ve already asked my mom if she can find some work for you around her office. On weekends we can walk to the beach and go to the mall and whatnot, c’mon babe, it’ll be fun”. Great, a summer working in an office and hanging out with your boyfriends’ rich parents, sounds… delightful. But truth is, you didn’t have anything else to do over the summer, and maybe this would be a way to relax without spending a boatload of your hard-earned money on a shitty trip. “Hmm... fine, you’ve convinced me”, you pretend to be annoyed about it. He smiles and gives you a quick peck on the cheek which you ignore. “It’ll be great, we can go up Saturday afternoon. First day of summer, the adults in the neighborhood usually throw a barbecue at Joel’s, the guy I’m working for. Yeah, it’s a little rowdy with drunk adults and a pool thrown into the mix but I always find myself actually having fun”. At this point you felt a little excitement creep through you. You arrive and immediately there’s a party, hell yeah. Who cares about drunk middle-aged people when at least there are free drinks. “I’m sure we will have a great time”, you force a smile as he gazes at you, “as long as I’m with you”, he replies earnestly before adding repulsively, “can you bring something hot to wear, like those little shorts- I wanna impress everyone in town that you’re mine”. You cringed at the sudden ruin of the mood and his claiming you as his. It sends a nauseous feeling straight to your stomach with a hint of rage.

Six months ago, you may have laughed and slapped him lightly on the shoulder, but truth is, you had been meaning to break things off with him for a couple of weeks now. His constant unawareness to vile comments and the fact that you were always treated as an accessory to him, as if you weren’t a person at all, had just brought you to your breaking point. Not to mention your friend Em, who dated his much kinder friend, had broken the news that him and a girl in another one of his classes had been fucking on the regular. This should’ve hurt, but truth be told, you two had been distant for months now. The only reason that you hadn’t broken it off sooner was the slamming of exam period, as you spend two weeks with your head buried in books, barely seeing anyone, including him (you had kinda forgot about him over that time, if you were honest with yourself, and, you know you weren’t supposed to say it, but it felt kinda nice, not having the responsibility of constantly thinking about a significant other). Remembering all the outliers in your relationship, you cursed yourself for saying yes to the trip and not just calling it quits to spend summer alone. Well, you guessed you wouldn’t be seeing him all that much, with both of you working and you could use the excuse you wanted to check out the town to get away for a bit. God, you felt like a major bitch, but still, it was a free trip. So, fuck it. Call it compensation for how neglectful he had been of your relationship.

The trip back to his hometown was draining. You couldn’t help but wish your boyfriend would just ease up on the constant chatter so the two of you could sit in comfortable silence with the music blaring instead. He told you all about his neighbors and his parents and you couldn’t help but find yourself intrigued by this Joel Miller character he was working for. Single parent, self-made wealthy contractor with a charm about him, or so your boyfriend complimented, as he told the story of how Joel had offered him a job in high school when times were tight through his parents’ divorce. “Listen okay, literally everyone in town swoons for him but I’ve never seen him with anyone, I don’t know, maybe he’s just not looking to settle down. I personally don’t see it, he’s just an old man”, he mentions offhandedly. You were a little nervous to meet him after the string of admiration by your boyfriend.

Once you had arrived and his stepfather and mother had showered you with acclimation (“My goodness Sammy, look at this gorgeous thing, how did you manage to lock her down”). Getting ready for the much-awaited barbecue, you settled for simple, as the humid evening approaching told you that anymore layers, and you would be drenched in sweat. You added some accessories, equipping yourself with your camera and extra film as you and your boyfriend headed across the road to, supposedly, Joel’s house.

Already there was a congregation of neighbors and friends, all gathered around a pool in the backyard, beers in hands, chatting enthusiastically with others they, presumably, were all familiar with. It was utterly suburban, the sight bemusing you slightly as you force away a smirk. Making your way across the lawn and through already intoxicated neighbors you find a full cooler, preparing yourself with a beer before observing the strangers. Your boyfriend had taken off to greet friendly faces, taking the opportunity, you fixate your lens to your eye to capturing the action.

A sweep of the back garden and a few shots later your lens focuses on a tall man leaning on a porch pillar. You can’t help but stare through the disguise of your camera. The cross of his tanned broad arms stretching his t shirt against his chest, making the expanse that much more noticeable. One hand jammed into his pocket, the other superlatively cradling a beer.

His patchy beard lined his structured jaw, squinting as he laughed, dimples inverting the sides of his mouth exquisitely. All these featured crafted the most handsome man you think you had ever laid eyes on. Pressing the shutter, you snap a photo of him mid-laugh as a neighbor entertained him. His admirable laugh carried across the garden, a melody to your ears, you can’t help but smile to yourself.

“Babe!” you boyfriend calls from across the lawn, cringing once more at the pet name, you wander across the garden after being summoned. “This here is Joel”. Your eyes meet the older man finally greeting the stranger who has piqued your interest the past few hours. He had a southern charm about him, and the closer you get, you can see how broad he really is. His muscles sculpted through his shirt, the veins in his arm mimicking those of Michelangelo's David. What the hell was your boyfriend talking about “just an old man”, you couldn’t take your eyes off him, allure and all.

“Ah, so this is she”, he envelopes your hand in his, his calloused palms connect more gently than you expected with your own young, soft padding. “I’m Joel”, he introduces himself, “I noticed you snapping photos over there”, his smile softens his features, you can’t help but mirror his beaming. “Speaking of”, you say, reaching into your pocket, you hand him the photo you had taken earlier; his attractive face radiating from the Polaroid, “Here”.

Taking it, he inspects it closely, you hold your breath, faintly, always nervous of reactions to your craft, no matter how friendly the gathering. A mesmerizing smile breaks out on his feature, “Probably the best photo taken of me ever. And that’s saying something”, he adds, grinning. “Its all yours”, you offer, watching him pocket the photo with pride.

Joel and you fall into conversation seamlessly. You tell of your uni and photography endeavors as Joel starts telling you about his contracting business. How he got it off the ground with the help of his brother, Tommy, who was lounging on a pool chair beside Joel’s daughter Sarah, who he mentioned with a sparkle of joy in his eye any proud father would have. “So, after Sarah’s mom left, I decided to get my shit togeth—”

“Holy shit”, your boyfriend interrupts. Joel raises his eyebrows in confusion, and you sigh in question, as you were enjoying talking to Joel, “Listen, my old high school buddies are having a boys night at theirs”, he raises up his phone, showing the brightened notification on the screen. You don’t bother to read it. “I gotta go babe, sorry. Ill see you later on tonight, okay?”, he gives you a quick kiss on the cheek, leaving you standing there speechless before weaving through the crowd of people in the back garden and leaving. You’re shocked, frankly. Sure, he’s been neglectful of you, but this was a new low. Ditching you at his neighbor’s party to go hang out with other people… you are truly dumbstruck. Tears of humiliation and pure anger burn on your lashes, threatening to leak down your face. You turn your attention to Joel leaning next to you, the same stunned expression accessorizing his features, brow slightly furrowed. “Well,”, he sighs after a beat, “that was a bit fucking rude. Sorry about th—“

“Excuse me”, it was your turn to interrupt him, as you fled from his domineering presence, frankly, embarrassed by your bastard of a boyfriend. Tears lighting a fire behind your eyes as your blood boiled.

“Fuck”, you took a look at the bottom of your empty beer bottle, heading over to the cooler. “Fuck!!”, you repeated to yourself upon opening the now empty chiller. Adults really did drink a lot huh, you thought, glaring daggers at the once full bin before wandering across the garden and inside the house.

You navigated the modern, utterly suburban house plan until you found a garage. Damn middle-aged men and their garages, you swear every dad you knew decorated their garage better than their own rooms. Thank god Joel was no different, because you knew there would be a fridge there filled with the good stuff. Once alone with your new full beverage, you let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. You were here, alone now, with people only he knew, did he expect you to just stand in the corner and drink by yourself, observing the party? Did he expect you to just go home? Honestly, the mere thought of it sent a rush of anger traversing up your spine. “Asshole”, you muttered to yourself, taking a swig of your stolen beer.

“Didn’t think pretty girls were thieves”, you heard a teasing voice behind you. You whipped your head around to make out Joel in the doorway of the garage, muscular arms tucked into his sides again, one supporting his almost empty beer. Had he… followed you? He uncrossed his ankles and made his way over to where you stood by the fridge.

“The door was open, arrest me officer”, you retort sarcastically, already over this whole shindig after being ditched by your boyfriend.

He chuckled lightly before noticing your peeved demeanor. “Ah”, he whispers to himself, “boyfriend troubles huh? More so, than the whole ordeal before hm, darling”. You glance at him through your lashes and roll your eyes, “You don’t know the half of it.” Sighing, he moved closer to you, his elbow caressing yours slightly, he looks down at you with an expression you cant quite make out, “All I can say is”, he begins, his voice low and gravelly, “if I had a pretty thing like you for myself, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight”.

Was he… making a move on you? You couldn’t tell. In your drunken state, you didn’t really care either, why not pursue it. Your boyfriend hadn’t touched you in months, the least Joel could say was no; so, fuck it, right?

You inch toward him, “and what would you do if you had me, Mr. Miller”, you coo, your voice tantalizing, wavering on a whisper as you gaze at him.

“Maybe one day I’ll get to show you”, he smirks. The two of you are unbelievably close, you can feel his breath fanning on your face and can smell his cologne. He is inundating your senses and you can’t get enough. You take the opportunity to weave your hands around his waist. He reaches an unbearably large hand up to your face and skims your cheekbone, his sizeable thumb halting on your bottom lip. You use the opportunity to take his finger into your mouth, suckling gently before releasing it with a soft kiss on the padding of his digit. You can feel him harden against you through his jeans.

“Fuckkkken hell”, he drawls, “temptress,” a darkness scintillates in his eyes.

A loud bang of a door close by followed by a whining, “Daddddddd”, has the both of you jumping apart as Sarah appears in view of the doorway. The young girl is rubbing her eyes, messy curls adorning her cute face. Slumping, she complains again, “Dad, I’m tired, can you tuck me in, please”. Joel gives her a warm smile, “I'll be right there baby girl, go get into bed okay, gimme a second”. She notices you for the first time, “I like your hair”, she grins, you cant help but smile at the young girl, “thank you honey, I like yours too”. With that, she disappears back through the door and up the stairs as Joel’s attention turns back to you, his former dark, eager look has returned.

“Come around tomorrow.” It’s not a question. Rather a demand. One hand engulfs your upper arm, giving it a light squeeze as he plants a soft kiss to your cheek, leaving you in the garage to comprehend the exciting conversation you had just had. Before he does, however, he stops in the doorway and turns back around to face you. “For the record, your boyfriend’s an asshole. Has been since high school.”, he gives you a grin but there’s a hint of concern behind his eyes. It was a shitty thing for your boyfriend to do and he understands that.

Your boyfriend had passed out on his parent’s couch when you left Joel’s house, so you made your way to the sleep out, thrilled to have some time alone to think about the events of the night. You couldn’t help but admit to yourself that the entire conversation with Joel felt good. Right, even; like Joel was actually trying to talk to you as any decent human being would. And maybe the bar was on the ground for your after your shitty relationship, but you didn’t feel guilty about wanting the older man. And he wanted you too. Maybe it’ll only be for a quick fuck, but it felt nice to be wanted. You thought about the conversation again before slipping a finger down through your wet folds, rubbing quick fast circles to the nub of your clit, exhaling soft moans. You imagined your hand wasn’t your own but Joel's.

The next day you woke up early. Your nerves shot as you take a shower, taking the opportunity of seeing Joel again to dress in lacy, barely there lingerie under your clothes (why you packed it… just in case, you supposed). If nothing happened between the two of you, or he admitted that perhaps he was drunk and just fucking around, then nobody would know your effort but you. However, if he did get to undress you, the choice to dress up would be an ideal one.

The door is open when you arrive, the summer entering uninvited through the hallway of the cozy home. Entering the doorway to the living room, you knock on the door frame, Joel appearing moments later behind you on the stairs. “Hi again, doll”, he greets you with a genuine smile, walking to the kitchen. Those dimples, carved by Donatello himself, you supposed. “You want something to drink?”, you nod as he leads the way past you. Handing you a dewy beer, you make your way to the couch to sit on the edge like a nervous child and admire the man in front of you. His t shirt tightening at the sleeves, barely able to fit over his muscular, slightly tanned arms. Jeans, ungodly tight around his crotch. You blush at the realization that you’re staring at him in all his glory. Your breath hitches as you focus your gaze on the skew of family photos dotted around the living me.

“Why’d you ask me over?” you come right out and question. In your drunken state last night, you didn’t care if it looked like you were coming onto him, if he said no, your intoxication dulled your embarrassment. But now, in your sober state, you needed to know, so as not to do just that. “I wanna take care of you”, he expressed nonchalantly, his focus occupied on finding a bottle opener. “And how do you presume to do that”, you continue, bemused by his confused expression lightening once he found what he was looking for, popping the cap before coming to sit next to you on the couch. He crossed his ankle over his knee, your eyes unfortunately for you, travel straight to the bulge in his jean. Perv, you curse to yourself. “Well, it just seems like your boyfriend isn’t doing a very good job, is he sweetheart?”. An exasperated sigh emits from your throat, your eyes roll unwillingly at the mention of your partner. You lean against the back of the couch, head resting on his forearm relaxing lazily behind you, as you take a sip from your bottle.

You realize you really do want him… badly. “Maybe I do need your help, Mr. Miller”, lolling your neck to look at him through your lashes, putting on a sad face whilst the hint of seduction in your breathy tone communicates everything to Joel.

He leans in and kisses you, gently at first. You deepen it, needing more of him as you moan into his mouth, giving him easy access to slide his tongue across your teeth. Tongue and teeth collide in a hot, messy kiss. His hand glides up your waist to your throat, where he cups your jaw with two giant fingers and squeezes gently. Quickly realizing you’re in the middle of the living room, gasping pulling away. “Shit, is Sarah home?”, you pant. “Friend’s house”, Joel says shortly, reconnecting your lips to his.

“Then, make me feel good Joel”, you coo, teeth running over his bottom lip. He exhales a low animistic groan, watching his eyes darken to a lust-filled gaze. “Yes ma’am”.

Next thing you know, he is walking you backwards to the spare bedroom downstairs. Both of you are so needy, you can’t even wait to make it upstairs to his own bed. The backs of your knees hit the mattress, he works at your panties, lips connecting with your throat, neck, collarbone, a symphony of needy groans accompany your pleasureful sighs quickly filling the empty space of the room. Slipping a calloused hand between your thighs, he begins working to collect your arousal, coating the tips of his fingers before slipping a digit into your cunt. You exhale a gasp, he swallows into a groan, “Fuck, doll,” he breathes softly, watching his finger pumping in and out of you, “does this pussy ever get this wet for your boyfriend?” He palms himself through his jeans, relieving some of his building tension. “No Joel”, you gasp, “not like it does for you”. Mascara gathers at your lashes as you squirm on his sheets. Joel’s touch fills you with ecstasy, but you still need more.

“Joel—” you whine, forcing yourself to meet his gaze, desire and devotion flooding his features, you follow his line of vision to the sight of his digit fucking you, then to your camera lying on his bedside table. You see the gears turning in his head, barely able to comprehend what he is up to before he grabs the camera, taking it in one large hand, positioning the base on his palm as he bends his fingers to the shutter button. You turn your head away in bliss, all you can focus on are his expert fingers rhythmically pumping in and out of you. “C'mon baby, you don’t need to be shy around me”. The camera looks miniature in his hand, the flash blinds you, snapping your pure pleasure, freezing it as a passionate moment in time. Joel holds the strap by his teeth, yanking the filthy portrait out, throwing it on the bedside table. Fuck, that just made you even wetter, if that was even possible. “Joel—ah- Joel” you continue to whimper, unworried about the physical evidence of your filthy endeavors due to your young, committed cunt clenching unwilling around his fingers by how good it feels.

“I know, sweetheart”, he whispers understandingly, “Just gotta warm you up a little longer, okay sweet girl”, he slips another digit between your walls. Your back arches against the mattress, head thrown back as a string of moans and whimpers tumble from your lips. Joel’s eyes darken into a hungry, heavy look with every squirm and curse that falls from your lips. Your eyebrows knit together in pleasure as his filthy words and his tantalizing, skillful fingers aid the coil in your stomach to release slowly. Joel, camera in hand, snaps two more of him fucking you with his fingers, discarding them on the table again. “Fuck, my own little cam girl”, he drawls in your ear, smirking, “we got four left, gotta use them wisely now”.

Joel abruptly pulls his fingers out, leaving you gasping for air, whining, as the bliss slowly fades, your arousal still hot and heavily in need of him like the air you breathe. He drags his jeans and boxers off, tossing them carelessly onto the floor by the bed. Taking in his girth, you understand why he had to warm you up first. You damn near moan at the sheer side of it as the slick from your pussy assists his thick fingers to pump himself a couple of times. He smirks at your needy expression. Cocky bastard, he knows he’s big too. Settling between your legs, his tip of his cock teases your entrance. You can feel his pre-cum mixing with your slick, creating an exquisite cocktail. Repetition falling from his lips in an unsteady gravelly tone as he coerces you to take ever inch of him inside your cunt, with a melody of “good girl” and “you’re doing so good for me, pretty baby”.

Joel slides inside you so easily, with how wet you are for him. A soft hiss, and then his features mold into a symphony of pleasure and hunger. His capable fingers tangle in your hair he glides his length in and out, painfully slow. You finally find your voice amongst the soft gasps and ah’s. “Joel— need more, please”, your voices emerges as a breathy whisper; making his features darken with craving. “I know baby, I know”, he coos, “you’re so full right now, aren’t you. That’s it sweet girl, you’re so good, taking every inch of me into that pretty little pussy”.

Your mind is whirling 100 miles per hour as he whispers filthy phrases in your ear, the promise to fuck you hard and slow being almost unbearable to comprehend. His thick cock stretches you out, rock hard, forcing your legs wide open as your ankles cross around his waist for support. It’s too much, fuck! After a few seconds of adjusting to this size, he pulls all the way out. You whine slightly at the loss of him inside you before he slams back into your cunt, filling you all the way before repeating again and again and again. The head of his thick, impressive length kisses your g spot like no other mans has before. All the while he has one large, veiny hand around your throat providing a slight bit of pressure, his thumb caresses your lips, opening them to slide a finger inside. You take the hint as a call back to last night at the party, slipping his fingers to the back of your throat and sucking on them. He groans out a string of profanities, eyes glued to you as you feel his cock twitch inside you at the image before him. You release his fingers, a string of spit still attaching you and him, he uses his thumb to spread it around your lips before dragging your chin down to open your mouth, pressing his lips to yours delicately. You can barely keep up with his kiss as he continues to slam into you at a rapid pace. You’re moaning out his name, a chorus of Joel, Joel Joel-, he smothers your whines with his lips. Rocking his hips up into you slowly, he brings his thumb down between the two of you, his calloused finger after years of contracting, makes contact with your clit, rubbing circles to your neglected nub. You push his hand away after your body jolts from the stimulation and he lets out a low chuckle. “You about to come, sweetheart?”, his voice is restrained and needy. You can feel your orgasm building inside of you, teasing you as the crescendo builds. You nod quickly. Squeezing your eyes shut, your moans begin to become rapid sighs on your tongue.

“Eyes on me, doll”, Joel demands, you open them to be met by the southern man, slamming his hips into you. Fuck he looks so good on top of you right now. A thin layer of sweat coats his forehead and chest, his hair messy, two curls decorating his forehead. You don’t think you’ve ever seen such a beautiful sight. He lifts himself up on his knees, grabbing the camera once more, he takes a selection of photos of you taking him deep into you. He thumbs lightly at your clit for a shot, before the film runs out, a satisfyingly dirty collection of photos to remember your time together by lying next to the both of you.

Your hips move together in conjunction. His hands weave around your back, pulling you into him as his lips attached to your breasts, he anchors his tantalizingly expert fingers into your hair, the plush of your ass, circling your waist— Joel holds you as close as physically possible, his muscular arms crush you, teeth grazing the nub of your breast. There’s a starving kind of desire laced into his kiss. Involuntary clenches of your cunt around his impossibly hard cock, and your fingernails digging into his shoulder blades, you slide your hands around his neck to hold yourself steady.

Then, he’s pulling away slightly, his hungry eyes watching his length pump in and out of you, as he plants a strong hand on your thigh, spreading you open to receive impossibly more of him. You are simply a toy at this point, as he dictates the sheer brutal pace of how he fucks you. “God, you look so beautiful, full of my cock, doll”. He moves his lips wetly up your throat, your head thrown back. He smiles against your mouth, you give him a shaky “mmm”, he ardently peaks your lips, releasing after each kiss to watch your cock-drunken expression, his name the only word you can attempt, like worship on the edge of your tongue. “Joel- Joel- Joel, mmm”, you stutter a praise for the captivated audience, who is relishing in the sound of your pleading gasps.

“I wanna see how appreciative you are for this cock, baby, keep your eyes on me”.

His voice is firm as his hardened hands caresses the length of your spine. You feel him flex inside you, his dominant gaze securing you as he speeds up, watching as your tits bounce with his rough strokes. “Ohmygod–Joel–”, the promise of your climax rapidly approaches, the ache undoes all the tension inside you, overtaking every inch of you, causing your thighs to squeeze him impossibly tighter.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Give it to me now, Darlin, you’re doing so good, come around me, doll”. The praise, the pet names, him inside you, all sends you over the edge. Your cunt starts to flood and shudder around him, your eyes rolling back into your head as you feel your orgasm release. You squeeze around Joel’s cock so tight; your lungs can only gasp out a mixture whines as you come around him. Joel continues to fuck you through your orgasm, its hard and fast to the point where you can feel another coil build inside you. He can feel it too, shifting your hips up slighting in a way that makes your mind blow, you nearly scream out at how good it feels. “That’s my good girl, I need another one, baby. You can give me another. That’s it, Yes, give it to me pretty girl”, his lips attach to a soft spot behind your ear, making you moan his name, your delicate hands rake through his hair. He pulls out for a brief second, flipping you onto your side as he lies behind you, sliding back inside you again. Its almost as if he never left, you’re so drunk off him fucking you that you can barely comprehend what is happening. Just that it feels so good, his hand weaves around you to play with your nipple, squeezing it slightly as his lips pepper kisses to your neck. he gently hooks your leg over his, stretching you open impossibly wider. “I wanna feel that pussy squeezeing me again, baby”. He continues lacing a string of filthy words into your ear while retreating back to his signature move when the two of you first started, pulling all the way out and slamming into you again.

“Lemme, feel you comin’ when I fill you up, good girl.”

Your second orgasm blinds you as you moan through your bliss. Joel’s gravely groans behind you sound like a melody. His warm breath in your ear and progressive sloppiness, encasing the room in leud noises, accompanied by his broken moans signals to you that he is close too. You turn you head to capture his lips as the aftershocks of your orgasm spark through you, your thighs twitching against his. He meets them brutally, and you know you’re going to be bruised inside and out when this is over. By the time he’s pumped you full of his cum and pulled out, it’s leaking down the inside of your thighs. You attempt to catch your breath, as his cock settles between the two of you on your lower back. You cant help but smile as he rubs lazy circles to your bare hip.

“Fucken hell, that was incredible”, he whispers, more so to himself than to you. “You are something else, doll”, he breathes, still catching his breath. You turn yourself around so that you’re half on top of him, throwing your leg over his so his cock is resting between your thighs. “You’re not so bad yourself”, you retort, smirking up at him.

“You know, you look so fucking pretty on top of me like that, darlin’. Next time, ill have to get a shot of you riding me”. Your heart jumps slightly at the promise of a next time, which he notices, following up his sentiment.

“Are you staying the whole summer”, he questions, his roaming hands worshiping your waist. “Sure am”, you respond hopefully. “Well then, I guess I’ll be seeing you soon”, he gives you a genuine smile, capturing your lips against lip for a delicate kiss, his patchy,lightly groomed beard scratching softly at your cupid’s bow.

You’re still unable to form a coherent sentence, as you feel his slick cocktailed with your own leaking out of your cunt. You slide off him, propping yourself up on a trembling elbow, watching Joel pull his jeans back up over his hips. “Until next time then”, he promises, gliding your panties up your still-weak legs, a wet patch already forming on the fabric. Aren’t you glad you decided to wear these. He hands you the photos and your camera as you attempt to dress yourself again, feeling weak and so empty without him already. Handing them to you, he slips one into his jean pocket with a cheeky comment. Walking you to the door, he kisses you deeply, his grey-flecked beard scratching your cheeks. After your goodbyes you can’t help but miss him. Hell, you’d only known the older man two days; still, you wanted his company more and more as the hours went by, so you reached for what he had given you to remember you by, “until next time”.

You stand in the sleep-out kitchen, admiring the Polaroid’s he had taken of you. You filter through them, blushing more at the sight of each one, dirtier than the last, too caught up to hear the door open. “Hey”, the familiar voice makes you jump. Your boyfriend, out of breath comes stalking through the door. You scramble to hide the photos, collecting them in a bundle, attempting to put them in your jean pocket. You force a smile at him as his eyes travel down to the photos in your hand. “From the party right, lemme take a look at those,” he says enthusiastically, closing the gap between the two of you as he reaches for them. “No”, you try to brush it off, “the lighting isn’t right, they didn’t turn out great, ya know, night shooting is a bitch”, you try to pull the photos further from his grasp, but he has a firm hold on them, yanking them slightly. You gasp as they flutter gracefully to the ground, face up, dropping to your knees to quickly pick them up but he’s already seen. “What the fuck”, he whispers, grabbing one and gazing it, a deep-rooted frown carved into his brow. It was you, mouth frozen in a pleasureful ‘ah’ as a peak of Joel entering you was seen at the bottom of the frame. “You wanna tell me what the fuck this is”, his voice was wavering on a yell.

You decided not to try to explain, “you wanna tell me about the girls you’ve been fucking these past few months, huh?”, you retort. “Everyone knows, everyone has told me to break up with you because of it, shit, you don’t even try to keep it a secret”. You voice is laced with venom, it was high time this discussion was happening, you just wished you had the courage to bring it up on your own, and not in this unwanted circumstance.

“Dont change the subject, who is he?”, he demands, his tone reaching shouting point. “Take a wild fucking guess. Do you need a hint? He stayed with me while you ditched my ass at your neighborhood party. While you humiliated me by just fucking leaving me there with strangers like the asshole you are.” You can feel rage-filled hot tears collecting at your lash line reminiscing about the event. “I know you’re going to try to break it off and think its your own doing but trust me, this”, you direct your finger between yourself and him, “this, has been over for a long time”. You push past him with force, grabbing your bag which you hadn’t even bothered to unpack, thank fuck, what a nice coincidence. You stomp toward the door.

“Fine”, he responds, “but as if he’s going to want you. He’s a middle-aged man with a kid, you were just a fuck”. It spirals you. You turn on your heels to look at him, he is frowning on the verge of tears (how many times had you been there before in his presence) and there’s a contortion of anger in his face, “At least he actually made me come”, you retorted hotly, walking out the door before you remember an extra detail. You pop your head back through the door to utter, “three times, actually”. And then you’re off. You ask his mother to drive you to the train station, explaining the split, briefly, and that you didn’t feel comfortable to stay. She insisted you did, kind lady, but didn’t pry into the details.

Once you had boarded and the train sped away from the dreaded events of the town, you felt relief course through you, no longer chained to that asshole. Sure, you know you should’ve done it sooner, and yeah, it wasn’t an ideal option what had happened, but this meant you could have some time to yourself this summer.

As you were back at square one, you daydreamed of the handful of friends who usually spent their summers on campus to call once you got back. Your phone screen lighting up with a ding, caught you off guard, the name causing your heart to skip a beat.

“It’s Joel. I heard the rundown from his mother, got your number in the process. Are you alright, doll?” he writes. You read it in his voice, subconsciously smiling at how his pet names aren't limited to face to face conversations.

You look at the bright screen in disbelief. He asked your exes mother for your number, meaning he wanted to stay in contact. Perhaps? One could only hope. You didn’t let your excitement get the better of you, however.

“Guess word travels fast. I’m fine, it should’ve happened sooner, honestly. I’m so sorry I got you involved”. You put your phone down, not expecting a reply after your apology. But the immediate ding had not only butterflies, but a whole zoo trampling around your stomach.

“If you’re going to be at your dorm over the summer, let me come visit sometime darling? Tommy offered to work more after your ex quit, so my plate is free”. He adds, much to your delight, “plus I think Sarah would love to see the campus.”

You smiled at the thought of showing the young girl around your college, she would be in awe of the library, you thought, remembering a glimpse of a large collection of books strewn across the table and shelf in the living room. You started to type a reply to Joel before another message comes through.

“and, for the record, those photos were hot, sweetheart”, he adds, a blush coloring your face, your gaze immediately drifting to the pocket of your bag where they lay, safe, sound, and where no one would be able to see, thank god.

“I suppose I could work something out, for you” you reply, a smiling creeping across your features before double texting, “you know, I have extra film in my dorm... for emergency”. Discarding your phone on the table in front of you, you watch the countryside melt into a blur, feeling the most relaxed and content you had in a while.

if you enjoy this fic please like, comment and reblog! your feedback is always appreciated<3 thank you for reading

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #joel x you #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel tlou #pedro pascal character fic #pedro pascal characters #the last of us hbo #the last of us #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x afab!reader #dom!joel miller #∘* ✧･ﾟ ➳ audie writes

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auteurdelabre · 6 months

Text

Something to Fight For (part 2) Dad!Joel x f!reader

Word Count: 6.2K

Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no physical descriptions)

Warnings: This is saccharine slice of life with smut and a Soft!Joel. You have been warned. There is swearing, there is smut, but when it gets to those chapters you will have plenty of warning. (That is if there is interest in my story!)

A/N: This is part of a sweeter series (lots of angst, pining and smut ahead) Also despite Sarah's young age Joel is early 40's in this because slightly grey babygirl DILF Joel is the best Joel.

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Ever since the most uncomfortable blind date in the history of your life, your feelings on Joel Miller aren’t exactly positive ones.

What started as a casual irritation has swiftly morphed quickly into a full blown dislike. The way he'd rushed off that night, the way he'd barely looked at you during the meal, the way he'd made it uncomfortable for everyone. The way he'd never apologized.

You know it's not fair, that after your outburst in the parking lot you left little room for him to be pleasant. And yet the irrational part that recalls the humiliation of him saying that the date was a 'waste of time' clouds this.

The worst part is now that Tommy and Maria are even more officially an item, which means you crossing paths with Joel is inevitable.

Maria is renovating the kitchen of course, which is how she met Tommy in the first place. But now that one of the larger projects are finishing up for 'Miller Construction', she tells you Joel will be dropping by to help speed her own renovations along.

She tells you this as a courtesy you think. And because this isn't your house and you don't pay rent you force a smile a nod when she tells you.

So you decide to suffer through it.

You get very good at not interacting with Joel. If you both happen to be arriving at the house at same time you quicken your pace and go through the back door to your suite.

Maria tries her best to be understanding but you know it hurts her to see you isolating when he's around.

"I know you don't like Joel," Maria says to you over drinks over night. "But I promise he's not always like new was that first night. He's actually really funny."

"I find that impossibly hard to believe."

"It's true!" Maria insists, her eyes luminous from the wine. "He apologized to me for how rude he was that night. Said he was just anxious about Sarah."

You'd wanted to ask her why Joel didn't apologize to you if he was such a fine, upstanding citizen but had decided there was little point. First impressions were everything and you'd both shown your worst.

But your days aren't all Joel focused. In fact today you make your way home with a huge smile on your face and Joel Miller isn't even in the peripherals of your thoughts.

You rush into the house without knocking, as you have always done. Only instead of cooking or reading, Maria is entwined with Tommy on the sofa kissing feverishly.

"I got the grant!"

They break apart like guilty schoolchildren and you pause at the door suddenly feeling wrong footed.

"I'm s-so sorry," you stammer a laugh feeling both embarrassed and amused.

"Did you just say you got the grant?" Maria says, throwing herself from the sofa into your surprised arms. She squeezes you tightly, bouncing excitedly.

"I'm so sorry," you say hugging her. "I didn't know Tommy was here. Hey Tommy."

Tommy gives an awkward wave and smile from the sofa.

"Oh he's fine," Maria assures you. "When do you get the money?"

"They're making it a bit tricky," you admit. "Instead of just giving me a blank check I need to submit the official work orders on the office renovations. Ya know, to prove I'm not lying."

"Annoying," Maria scowls. "So I guess the new kennels are a no-go."

You join her as she sits back at the sofa next to Tommy. You take the seat opposite them in the dark green wing back chair Maria has had since her first apartment.

"There must be a work around," you insist, letting your purse fall to the ground at your feet. "I spoke to James and he said he would think on what we can do."

James is your co-worker extraordinaire, a whiz with money and grant writing. He's the real reason you got this one. The two of you make a very good team. You're good with people, getting donations that way. You easily make human connections whereas James is pure analytical focus.

"Why don't you just get a company to do the Reno's but ask them to keep it vague on details when it comes to receipts?"

You both look at Tommy who is seated at the edge of the couch, his elbows on his knees. He's looking at you both as if his reply is the most obvious thing in the world.

"The things an office Reno would need like lumber, nails, etc are things you could use for making kennels," he continues when he sees both you and Maria looking at him with rapt focus. "Just get the builders not to be specific when it comes to what the structure or structures are when it comes to the invoice you need for the grant."

It's genius. Perfectly simple and yet inspired. And the way Tommy is raising his brows at you makes you think he may just be offering his services.

"Do you know of any such construction company that would do this?" You ask with a sly smile that Tommy returns.

"I might."

Maria looks at Tommy with a gaze of such open devotion that you find yourself blushing. He returns it, and you know that if you weren't here they'd be kissing like mad.

"Alright then," you say standing abruptly. "You're hired."

Tommy does an exaggerated fist pump in the air that has you and Maria giggling. You decide on going over details at your office next week. You're amazed at how well this came together and how quickly.

"Let's go out to dinner to celebrate!" Maria insists with a wide grin. You're about to agree when there's a knock at the door. You watch as your friend goes to the door, because unlike with you they were obviously expecting this guest.

"Good timing," Maria says as she opens the door to a tired looking Joel. He's got a

Carpentry belt slung around his narrow hips. His grey t-shirt is damp at the collar; he's obviously come right from another job.

"Sorry I'm late," Joel says gruffly. "Couldn't get Marko to stop talking and finish the fencing properly."

"No worries," Maria assures him. "We were just chatting about renos."

"My favorite subject," Joel smirks. He's looking at Maria but his eyes eventually swim over to you. You make sure not to be glancing in his direction when they do.

Irritation is overtaking the good mood you'd been savouring, like a bucket of cold water to the face. Joel Miller's mere presence has you agitated.

"Were you still needing me to finish up the cabinet knobs today?" He asks.

"Nah, those can wait," Maria insists. "We've just had good news that needs celebrating!"

Maria explains about your grant and Joel forces out a barely audible congrats. You give a tight smile and equally quiet thanks.

Ugh, this fucking guy.

"Figure we can celebrate down at the Tipsy Bison," Tommy suggests, pulling on his jean jacket. "I think they have live music on Thursdays."

Joel is just standing there by the door, obviously itching to escape. He doesn't seem to know how to respond so he ends up shrugging and nodding.

"You guys have fun," you blurt as the trio of eyes fall on you. Tommy looks confusedly between you and Maria as if he's missed something.

"But we're celebrating your good news," Maria says with a voice full of confusion and hurt.

"I'd love to," you lie, slowly making your way to the door that leads down into your basement suite. "It's just I have so much prep to do this week. We have a ton of adoptions going through this month and I really need to get started."

You whirl around, opening the door and bounding down the wooden steps. You're halfway down when you hear the door above you close.

Maria is standing there, arms crossed. It's the look that you always associate with her: serious and focused.

"What?" You ask defensively even though you know exactly why she's here.

Maria gives you a serious look as she makes her way down the steps. She drops her voice to conspiratorial whisper, clearly not wanting the men upstairs to hear.

"You need to give Joel a chance."

"I am," you insist even though you both know it's a lie. You're frustrated that just by showing up he's ruined your good mood.

"I really like Tommy," Maria sighs. "And I love you. Please make an effort with Joel. For me."

"I will," you promise even though you have no intention of following it through. "I just can't tonight."

You go the rest of the way downstairs, shame rouging your cheeks. A buzzing sounds in your pocket and you bring out the phone, flipping it open to check the text that just came through.

hey how r u? Just checking in.

You give a disgusted scoff and throw your phone onto the bed.

/// /// /// /// /// /// /// ///

Frank proves to be no help at all in the Joel situation once he sees him.

One afternoon you're over there waiting to eat Bill's famous lemon cake when it all goes pear shaped.

"You can't tell its sugar free," Frank is saying from the kitchen, the sound of clattering dishes. "It's just that delicious."

Bill is seated across from you looking miserable. He's already got himself a slice and is holding it in his lap. You notice that Bill never starts eating until after Frank has.

"Sugar is the silent killer," Bill murmurs.

You hold in a smile. This isn't the first time Bill has given you the 'sugar is evil' talk.

Frank is rolling his eyes good-naturedly as he enters the room with two plates.

"They start 'em young," Bill continues as Frank makes his way towards you. "They put brightly colored cartoons on the front of sugary cereal boxes for Christ sake. It's insidious."

Frank hands the plate to you, the fork clattering on the porcelain. You take it gratefully, looking at the pale yellow cake with its white swirling icing. You almost don't want to eat it, it looks so beautiful.

"This is gorgeous."

Bill gives the smallest smile in your direction and a slight nod of thanks. His bright eyes move to Frank who is taking his first bite. You know that for Bill this is the only review he cares about.

"Amazing," Frank promises Bill. "Even better than your last one."

Bill is very pleased at this and about to say something when the sound of Joel's truck comes rambling up the street. The windows are open so you tilt your head at the noise, giving an exaggerated sigh when you realize who it is.

Frank and Bill exchange an inscrutable look before Frank launches himself off the sofa to come stand next to the window you're glaring out of.

Joel pulls himself out of the cab of the truck to grab lumber out of the back. He carries a two by four over his shoulder and heads towards Maria's. His jeans are dusty and the t-shirt he's wearing clings to him with sweat.

"That's the grey sprinkle?" Frank gapes looking out the window. It's almost comical how his blue eyes are blown so wide.

"Yeah," you frown looking out at his frame loping across the grass. "The one and only Joel Miller."

"He's sex on legs," Frank informs you, pulling back the curtain with a forefinger. He cranes his neck so he can follow Joel's form moving over the lawn.

You think you must be missing something here. Joel attractive? Pffft. Stone-faced, sad-eyed, moping bastard. Your judgment clouds any attraction you might feel.

Bill shuffles over with his piece of cake balanced on his plate. He glances at Frank's open mouthed stare and then out the window at Joel. He squints as he watches Joel enter Maria's house with the wood and toolbox.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," Bill frowns after he takes in Joel's form.

"Exactly," you say victoriously. Finally, someone who isn't drawn into whatever spell Joel Miller is casting.

But then you watch as Bill digs into his cake, aggressively popping it into his down turned mouth as Frank looks over with a disbelieving smile.

"Bill are you jealous?"

"No."

/// /// /// /// /// /// /// ///

A month later you have officially hired Miller Construction to renovate your "office". Tommy tells you he needs to come by and do an official estimate and you happily agree.

You trip over one of the jutting floorboards as you head for your desk that morning, giving a soft grunt of irritation before stamping it back into place.

Your office is a cramped thing, built a hundred years ago in what is a converted church. It's simple with wood floors and walls and you spent the better part of the month cleaning the backyard of the space in anticipation of building the kennels out there.

It's exciting to think that you'll actually be seeing animals more regularly at your job. Usually you're just grant writing or travelling off - site for donation requests. You muse that for a job all about animals, you rarely get to see them.

James is out of the office today, you've both started on sourcing a new area for a sanctuary. You're hoping to go to the city with the idea and James is out there today seeing if the land you want will be appropriate.

You look at the big yellow board in the center wall and give a smile. On it are a variety of photos collected over the years of the animals your office has saved. Your favorite photo is that of a little redheaded boy holding a turtle and smiling widely. It was the first adoption you'd ever overseen yourself.

There is a knock at the door and you move quickly, excited to show Tommy what you're going to have him build.

Your body physically starts in surprise when it's Joel that appears behind the door looking none too pleased.

Fuck no.

Up this close he's taller than you realized his shoulders broad. He's wearing a green flannel and he looks tired.

"I thought Tommy was the one handling this," you say trying not to sound accusatory.

"He asked me give him a hand with the estimate."

"Oh."

You move back from the door, opening it so he can enter. You look around him to see empty space. "Where is Tommy?"

"He's bringing my daughter from school," Joel says stepping into the space and glancing around before looking at his watch. "Should be here quick."

"She's coming here?" You can't hide the surprise in your voice at that.

"Yeah?" He gives you with a challenging look.

"Should I --- I don't have crayons but I have some highlighters I think and I guess she can use printer paper to draw on?"

"She'll be fine. You don't need to do that."

"Oh. Okay."

You want to ignore him but you keep thinking of Maria.

I really like Tommy. And I love you. Please make an effort with Joel.

The words roll around in your head as you go back to stand behind your desk. Joel is sauntering around your office, looking at the flooring with a frown.

"Does Sarah always come with you to work?" You broach trying to sound interested even if you couldn't care less. Joel glances over at you shaking his head.

"No. Teacher called to say she had a stomachache. Tommy was closer to the school so he said he'd pick her up for

Sometimes Joel sounds as if he's trying to conserve words, using as few as possible.

You nod and not really wishing to extend the conversation any further, you turn back the email you'd be writing earlier.

A few minutes pass of you typing away on the keyboard, your eyes focusing on the email you're composing.

"You always worked with animals?"

"Huh?" You glance up from your computer, surprised. Joel is standing across the room from you near the yellow board and its photographs.

"Have you always worked with animals?" Joel repeats.

It takes you a minute to register that he's actually asked you a question about yourself.

"Uh yeah. My mom's a vet tech, my dad raised horses. Can't remember a time I wasn't around them."

Joel doesn't seem to know how to reply to this so he shrugs and looks down at his boots, shoving his hands in his pockets and moving to look around the office. He goes to the shelving holding up years of old adoption records.

You watch this and wonder why he bothered asking you a question if he had no intention of actually listening to your reply?

The answer suddenly becomes obvious: because Tommy probably told him the same thing Maria told you. Make an effort. Be nice.

The whole thing seems a bit silly to you. You're not children for Christ's sake. And the idea strikes you that you don't have to pretend.

"Joel?"

He turns from where he is at the window, his brows quirked.

"Let's be honest here for a minute. I know you don't enjoy my company and I don't enjoy yours," you say officiously. "But Maria and Tommy are very happy together and I have no intention of ruining that. Since I assume you care for your brother, I think you probably feel the same way."

Joel is staring at you without saying anything. It's one of his party tricks, you decide; being so quiet the other person feels the need to fill the silence. After a beat he nods.

"So I propose that we act like we don't despise one another when we're in their company. Other than that, I see no need for us to act like friends," you explain diplomatically. "You don't have to pretend to be interested in my life and I don't have to pretend to be interested in yours."

Joel is quiet for the length of this speech, seeming to take the information in and digesting it. For a horrible moment there is a paranoia that your suggestion was too blunt.

"So we'll just dislike each other in secret," Joel eventually says with what looks like a slight quirking of his lips.

"Exactly," you nod. "After the kennels are done here and Maria's kitchen is finished we'll see even less of each other. Holidays, dinners, the occasional pub night. It's manageable, don't you think?"

"I do."

"Great."

With that settled you go back to your email, typing rapidly and feeling accomplished.

"So since we're not friends and I don't have to pretend to be nice, I'm just gonna point out that spending all that grant money on kennels is insane."

Your fingers abruptly pull back from the keys and you dart a look up at him. "What?"

"This office is falling apart. These shelves have maybe a few months left in them, maybe." He presses on one and you can hear it creak under his palm. "The flooring is fucked, you're gonna break your neck walking on it if you don't fix it quick."

You stare at Joel, flabbergasted. Not just because this is the longest you've heard him talk, but because after the weeks of planning he thinks he can waltz into your workplace and completely up-end your idea?

"You can't save animals if your whole office is trashed," Joel continues. "You ever hear the expression 'you can't pour from an empty cup'?"

The fucking gall of Joel Miller of all people trying to give you self help advice. Pot meet kettle.

"Well, I only take advice from friends, so... "

You let the meaning sink in as you turn back to your work. He gives a look that clearly says 'it's your funeral' You glance up from under your hair as Joel goes to the far side of your office, pulling out his measuring tape and marking something in the little notepad he's pulled from his back pocket.

You scowl at his back, irritated once more by his arrogance. He just came in here and totally shit all over your plans! What does he even know? The kennels are a necessity! Yeah your office isn't great, but you've always gotten by haven't you?

You hear the sound of a truck outside and know it must be Tommy and Joel's daughter, Sarah.

You look at Joel and muse about what kind of child a man like Joel would raise. You think she must be a feral nightmare if she has Joel for a father. Hopefully she takes after her mother.

You go to the door of the office and pull it open before Tommy even has to knock.

A small girl with large hazel eyes and a shock of light brown curls bursts into your office, her hand dropping Tommy's.

"Daddy!"

Joel's face breaks into a large grin. He drops to one knee, his arms widening as a squealing girl leaps into his embrace. He squeezes her tightly before pulling back, his face serious.

"How's the tummy?"

"Real bad," Sarah says, sighing in that way all precocious children seem to do. As if the world is so exhausting when you have no responsibilities.

"Oh yeah? That's a shame." Joel looks terribly upset. "I thought we'd go to McDonald's on the way home, but since you're so sick-"

Sarah immediately changes tack.

"I'm actually feeling better, Daddy." Her eyes are large and unblinking. She fiddles with the zipper on Joel's coat. "I think I'm better enough for McDonald's."

"Mhmmm," Joel says sending a smirk in Tommy's direction as he stands.

Who the fuck is this guy? The one with the charming, boyish smile? The one with soft eyes and a sweet warmth to his voice? It can't be Joel Miller.. You've met that bastard. This guy is new. This guy is almost.... Attractive.

Tommy follows you to your desk, a beat up Longhorns cap over his glossy locks.

"The big day is here"

"It is indeed," you say with a grin. "I'm really excited to show you the back -"

You stop talking because Tommy is frowning and looking around the office. He moves over the creaking floorboards, taking in the poorly sealed windows before putting his hands on his hips in quiet contemplation.

"Hmmm."

"What?"

You walk over to where Tommy is now standing beside Joel, surveying the space by the window. The Brothers exchange a silent look that makes your stomach wobble.

"I know you wanted to put the money towards kennels," Tommy says wincing. "But I think you might actually have to put it into this office."

Your cheeks flare pink as you actively ignore the smug look Joel is undoubtedly shooting you.

"I don't think that's necessary," you say tightly.

"I mean it's your money," Tommy shrugs. "But in my opinion this is where you should put it. This place is barely holding on. No real point in kennels out back if the office is closed, right?"

You feel like you've been punched in the gut. And you're upset because this is exactly what your coworker James said when you first told him about your plan for the grant. You just put that down to him being financially conservative.

"Well this is just fuc-" you stop yourself from swearing when you remember that Sarah is there.

Sarah takes one long look at you before going to hide behind Joel's legs, her hazel eyes staring out at you from behind him balefully as the men talk above her.

She's definitely Joel's kid.

"Maybe we do the repairs in here and see if we have any money left over for the kennels," Tommy suggests. "We can get a good discount on materials."

"But we're not being underpaid on labor," Joel quickly cuts in. "So there's a good chance there won't be much left."

Tommy gives Joel a warning look. You know he'd been hoping to swoop in and save the day for his girlfriend's best friend. He can tell you're disappointed and you know that he feels guilty about it.

But that doesn't stop you from feeling deflated. The vision you had is gone, replaced with renovations you don't even want.

"Sure. Whatever you think is best, Tommy. I trust your judgment."

You go back to your desk and slump into the chair feeling defeated. You pretend to write something on a piece of paper but instead you're doodling, trying not to feel too devastated.

Tommy and Joel are murmuring to one another, making marks on the wall, tapping gently with their knuckles to find the studs.

"I got the tape," Sarah's squeaky voice calls out to Joel as she races over to him, the measuring tape large in her small hands.

"Don't run babygirl," Joel says with a soft smile in her direction as he takes the tape from her and Tommy writes something down in his notebook.

It's clear that despite her young age, Sarah desperately wants to help her father with the job. It makes your throat tighten.

You have such little experience with children. You're an only child yourself, most of your friends are childless and you've never really seemed to understand kids. They're loud and emotional and messy. This one seems especially troublesome if she has Joel Miller as an influence, so you go back to your work trying to see if there are other financial avenues for the kennels.

As you with you can hear Joel and Tommy discussing lumber costs and which yard is best for the type of work you need.

"Hi. I'm Sarah."

You start at the sudden appearance of Sarah at your elbow. She's tiny for her age, her eyes taking up such a large portion of her face. You furrow your brows at her.

She puts on a smile, a small dimple appearing in her cheek, the same side as her dad's. She pats the ends of your hair gently.

"I like your hair. It's pretty."

You're surprised by this. "Uh, thanks."

She steps closer. "I like your desk. It's pretty."

"Thank you."

"Is that candy?"

She points to the clear jar on the left side of your desk. It's filled with brightly colored jellybeans. You look towards the tower of confectionery and realize her motivation for buttering you up. You hide a smile.

"It is."

You turn your attention back to your work and continue writing, feeling her serious gaze on you.

"I really like candy," she tells you.

"Oh yeah," you reply trying not to smirk.

It's obvious she is waiting for you to offer her one. But can kids this young even have candy? She shuffles a bit closer to you.

"Can I have one candy? Please?"

Your eyes dart over to see Joel and Tommy measuring something in the corner. Your gaze flicks back to the expectant child at your elbow. For some reason Bill's recent rant creeps into your brain.

"Sugar is really bad for you especially at this age," you offer helpfully. "But it's no wonder you're obsessed with it. I bet your favorite cereal has a fun cartoon character on the front."

Sarah takes a longing look at the jellybeans on your desk before turning her attention back to you and nodding.

"It's all a marketing strategy," you explain patiently. "They attract you with colorful images and happy music in the commercials and make it seem like sugar isn't really a silent killer. It's pretty insidious when you think about it, targeting kids."

Sarah's face is pinched into a look of confusion. "Huh?"

You feel the dual gazes of Tommy and Joel on you from the side of the room. They've stopped what they're doing and are staring at you with bemusement. Tommy's lips are twitching.

"Have you ever spoken to a child before?" Tommy broaches, trying not to sound insulting but failing miserably.

"'Course I have," you lie, even as you feel your cheeks reddening. "Lots of times."

The Miller men exchange a look of barely suppressed amusement before Tommy turns back to the shelves. Joel is still staring at you with what looks like a mixture of pity and humor. You don't appreciate either.

"So can she have a few?"

Joel nods and turns back to speak to Tommy. You open the lid to the jar, pulling out a handful of jellybeans and placing them into Sarah's cupped hands. She decides that there are too many for her to hold so stretching her arms up she puts the small pile on the edge of your desk before she pops one into her mouth, chewing.

"Are they okay? They've been sitting there a while."

Sarah nods, offering a gummy "thank you."

You go back to making notes for James and she begins moving her eyes over your desk as she eats her jellybeans one by one.

'Who's that?"

You look up from your notes to see her pointing at one of the few framed photos on your desk.

"That's my dog from when I was a kid," you answer with a fond smile. "Pongo."

"Like the Dalmatians," Sarah says popping another jellybean into her mouth. "Pongo and 'Gita."

"Yeah," you smile. "I loved that movie so much I wanted a puppy of my own. Christmas morning there he was."

"He's not a Dalmatian," Sarah tells you as if you weren't already aware.

"No he was a rescue," you explain patiently. "He's one of the reasons I started this job. I wanted to help other animals like Pongo."

"I have a pet," Sarah tells you with a serious countenance.

"Oh really?"

She nods, reaching into her pocket and producing a small toad stuffy. He's obviously been carried with her from place to place, well loved with parts of his spotted back rubbed off.

"This must be toad," you say with a grin. "I've heard about him."

She gives you a surprised look but then smiles. "Do you wanna hold him?"

"Sure." You hold your palm out expectantly, watching her serious little face as she places the creature in the center of your hand. "Oh he's very handsome."

Sarah giggles at this, looking at you with amusement. "He's not handsome. He's a toad."

"Well sometimes a toad can look handsome," you reason. "I have a few ex boyfriends that prove that point."

Sarah doesn't know what to make of that joke. So she takes toad back, pocketing him and going back to her jelly beans on your desk. She takes a pink one and before it reaches her mouth she's pointing to another photo.

"Who's that?"

You glance over to see the photo she's referencing. It's you and your mom and dad on your birthday. Judging by the candles you were about Sarah's age. Your arms are hooked around both their necks and the three of you look like you were laughing when it was taken.

"That's a photo of me," you tap the young image of yourself gently before tapping the faces of the other figures in the photograph. "And my mom and dad."

Sarah stares at the photo a long time, her head tilting as she regards it. You find yourself intrigued by her reaction. Her small dark fingers trace the frame. Finally she swallows her candy and looks to you curiously.

"You have a picture of your mommy? I don't."

You're surprised by this. You knew Joel was divorced, but to not have any photos of Sarah's mom around the house seems kind of strange.

You stare down at Sarah and wonder how much hurt hides behind those large eyes of hers.

"Sarah," Joel calls sharply from across the room. "Leave the lady alone, she's workin'"

You don't really mind Sarah as much as you thought you would. She's inquisitive and sweet tempered.

Perhaps this is an opportunity to extend an olive branch towards Joel, especially since you'll be seeing a lot of him.

"It's alright," you say, shooting a friendly smile his way. "I don't mind -"

"Well I do mind," Joel interrupts. The familiar chill is back in his gaze and you feel your own irritation rising, the smile dropping from your face. Why do you bother trying to be nice to this guy?

Joel holds a hand out in his daughter's direction, his face softening. "C'mon babygirl, we're goin' home."

Sarah takes the remainder of her jellybeans and shoves them into her dungaree pockets before toddling over to her dad who picks her up.

She's in his arms, looking over his shoulder at you. She gives you a brief wave that you return before the two of them disappear out the door.

/// /// /// /// /// /// /// ///

"Can you do me a huge favor?"

You never enjoy mornings that start like that. You're still in your sleeping clothes, the coffee Maria brought you still warm in your hands.

"Depends what it is."

Maria and you are sitting on your sofa, a striped pillow behind your neck.

It's been two days since Tommy and Joel dropped the bomb that you'll need to spend your grant money on the office repairs. It's only Wednesday but it feels like years since you had your dreams shattered.

Tommy is starting the work on your office next week. That means you'll have a solid three days of off-site work while he does that and you'll come back to an office you never wanted refurbished in the first place.

Great.

"It's me and Tommy's four month anniversary," Maria is blushing shyly. "He wants to take me away for the weekend."

You don't point out that celebrating monthly anniversaries is asinine and borderline juvenile. Mostly because those thoughts usually only occur when you're under-caffinated. And you know it's partially because you're still in a terrible mood about the office.

"Sounds fun," you say between sips of your coffee. "You need me to water your plants or something while you're gone?"

"Not exactly."

You don't like the way Maria isn't meeting your eyes.

"Maria?"

"Well, Joel has a meeting with Kathleen for that construction job on Saturday night. A big one. If they win the bid that's huge."

You nod, not really understanding where you come in.

"Sarah needs a babysitter. Tommy is usually the go-to but he's got this really good deal on a weekend away for us."

"Okay."

You sit staring at her a while before the other shoe drops and you see her bracing herself for your response.

"You want me to willingly enter that man's home and babysit his child?" You put your mug down on the coffee table so harshly it splashes.

You remember the pact you made with Joel. To act like you don't despise each other for the sake of Maria and Tommy. But this is asking too much.

"Why can't he just reschedule the meeting for the following week?" You suggest, desperate to find a solution that doesn't involve you in Joel Miller's home.

"I asked Tommy that but the bids open Monday. Saturday is Joel's only opportunity. She's busy all the other nights."

"Why can't he just get a sitter from the newspaper? Or an agency?"

You don't love the plaintive edge your voice has taken on.

"You saw what happened with Connie," Maria says with a roll of her eyes. "You've met Joel. He's particular."

Understatement of the century.

"Grandparents?"

"Dead."

Well, that's one thing you have in common.

"Sarah is his life," Maria continues. "He wouldn't let just anyone take care of her."

"Exactly. What makes you think he'd want me of all people to sit Sarah?" You figure this will solidify why you're a poor choice.

"Because when Tommy suggested you be the one to babysit, Joel said yes."

That surprises you enough to choke on your coffee. Joel Miller approves of you babysitting his daughter? This is unexpected.

Then another thought occurs to you, pushing this thought entirely to the back of your mind. Your eyes immediately narrow on Maria's suddenly very bashful face.

"Tommy's already talked to Joel about this?"

Maria is looking everywhere but your face as you raise a questioning brow.

"The tickets were non-refundable," Maria finally explains with a guilty laugh. "And there's a couple's massage!"

"Maria!"

"You'd barely have to interact with him," Maria promises. "He leaves when you get there and you leave when he gets home. In between that you get to hang out with Sarah."

Hanging out with a five year old you barely know is not the compelling selling point Maria seems to think it is.

"Plus I'll pay you for your time," Maria continues, going to pull the wallet from her purse. "It's the least I can do."

You inwardly groan. You know for a fact that you're going to say yes because when it comes to Maria you always do.

"Put it away," you say with a dismissive wave of your hand. "Think of it as an anniversary gift."

Maria nearly tackles you into a hug whispering words of thanks over and over before squeaking happily that she's going to call Tommy to give him the good news.

You shake your head watching her rush up the stairs before going back to your coffee and drinking deeply.

So much for a relaxing weekend.

#dad joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #the last of us #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #series

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katyswrites · 1 year

Text

don't call me 'baby'

PART 1 | SERIES

Pairing: Steve Harrington/fem!reader

Warnings: Sugardaddy!Steve, swearing, sexual harassment/men being gross, alcohol use, smoking, age gap

Wordcount: 4k

A sugar daddy modern AU, a whirlwind summer romance in Italy, and two people from completely different walks of life, somehow finding each other in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. But, what will happen when summer ends?

PART 1 | in the same room, at the same time

This wasn’t supposed to happen. That’s what you would tell yourself, later. But, life is funny that way - nothing ever really goes the way you’d expect it. And, when you had taken the last-minute shift at Enoteca Bruni, the fine-dining restaurant where you worked as a cocktail waitress, you could have never predicted where the night would take you.

It had started with a large reservation that had come in around 8pm, four businessmen in suits and watches that you imagined cost more than your entire month’s rent. You were used to that type - considering the prices on the wine list, nearly everyone you served here lived at least three tax brackets above you. It wasn’t a job meant for everyone - a lot of these types of customers were dismissive, rude, and expected those who serve them to disappear in the background, not to interrupt whatever they were doing, which was obviously oh-so-important. But, the tips were phenomenal, and the late night hours worked perfectly with your daytime shifts at the cafe in the city’s center.

Still, the most intriguing thing about them was that they weren’t Italian, like you had gotten used to - nor were they speaking Spanish, French, German, or any of the other languages you had learned to recognize over the last few years. No, they were American. It wasn’t often that you heard your native tongue and accent nowadays - no, it was actually jarring. But, you welcomed it. The oldest man at the table, a gray-haired, thin man with a sharp face and tailored three-piece suit, smiled when you greeted them with a hello.

“How wonderful,” he had exclaimed. “Someone from our side of the world.”

“Finally,” a younger man with a smattering of freckles on the other side of the table had said, exasperated. “We’ve got someone who actually speaks English around here.”

“Well,” you said, “To be fair, you are in Rome. I suppose you could say we are the odd-ones-out.”

He rolled his eyes, and shrugged. “Yeah, well, I guess I’m just trying to say it’s nice to actually understand who I’m talking to for once, you know? Not that I’m looking for her to talk back.”

Unfortunately, that didn’t even crack the top ten worst things a customer had said to you in your time working here. So instead, you just plastered on a cheerful smile.

“Of course. In that case, what drinks can I get started for you gentlemen?”

As the hours wore on though, it was becoming harder and harder to feign kindness. With each wave of dismissal, or snap of their fingers, you wanted to take the drinks you were serving and throw them in their faces. The worst of the bunch were probably the first older man you had spoken to, who had such a vile demeanor about him that you couldn’t quite put your finger on it; and perhaps worse than him were two of the younger men, the dark-haired one with freckles, and a sandy-haired guy with what you could only describe as a mullet.

1982 called, it wants its hairstyle back, you thought to yourself.

It was those two who you could see undressing you with their eyes, who called you over for nonsense requests, asking you to bend over the table to get things that you knew they were perfectly capable of reaching themselves. And, you weren’t deaf; you heard the comments they made as you walked away to fetch more wine and scotch.

Look at that ass go, one of them said. I’d definitely hit it.

As if you could pull that, the other said. Besides, you’ve already got two bitches on the side Billy; leave some for the rest of us.

Don’t look at me, the sandy-haired man who was apparently named Billy retorted. If anyone around here needs to get laid, it’s Harrington.

With your back turned, you rolled your eyes, and wondered if they’d notice if you spit in their drink - that was, until no-first-name Harrington replied.

Guys, lay off - just let the girl do her job, yeah?

You took a deep breath, and recomposed yourself - it was the bare minimum, but it was something - someone who saw you as a person, maybe.

You carried the tray over with a wide smile plastered on your face, handing out drinks as you surveyed the table. You glanced at Harrington, the quietest one in the group - you had hardly heard a word from him all night, until right now. He was handsome, on the younger side of the group, but you’d estimate still about a decade your senior; he had a thick, slightly wild head of chestnut hair, and more of a boyish look about him. And with the exception of his perfectly-tailored suit and ostentatious Rolex, he didn’t look to have much else in common with his colleagues at first glance. While they sat at ease, laughing and conversing over their drinks, he sat up straight, stoically swirling his wine.

You pulled the post-dinner cigars they had asked you to bring out of the box, slicing the end with the guillotine cutter and handing the first one to the oldest man, striking a match and lighting it for him until he drew smoke. It felt humiliating sometimes, to light the Suits’ cigars for them as if they couldn’t do it themselves, but that came with the territory in a place like this, you had learned.

You reached Harrington last, only for him to shake his head.

“Oh, none for me - thank you though.”

Thank you - he was probably the first one from the table to say that all evening.

“Can I get you gentleman anything else?” you asked stiffly.

“That’ll be all, for now,” the gray-haired man said, waving you off.

You nodded, and at the bar, decided it was high time for your smoke break. You glanced at your watch - your shift was over in less than an hour, and your high heels were killing you. You signaled to the manager behind the bar that you were taking fifteen, and shouldered your way out the door.

*****

The first few minutes outside were peaceful, and relatively quiet - at least, as quiet as Rome could be at this hour. There was still the distant sound of traffic, the bustle of people on the sidewalk, many drunkenly stumbling and laughing, in the midst of making merry on a Friday night. You took a drag from your cigarette and inhaled deeply - even just a few moments off of your feet, and sitting out here on this bench in the fresh air, was starting to take the edge off. Still, you couldn’t shake that table of men - your manager had warned you that it was a very high-profile client, explaining that the dinner was likely a pretense for some multi-million dollar deal to be discussed. Still, you found yourself muttering under your breath, practicing the retorts and profanities you had wanted to throw at them. The shield you had built for dealing with customers was only so strong, and if your job wasn’t on the line, you probably would have told them to fuck off hours ago.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you don’t hear someone approaching, not until they’re right next to you, clearing their throat.

“Oh! Jesus, hi,” you say, clutching your chest with your hand. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Harrington was standing above you, hands in his pockets and his tie loosened.

“It’s fine - I promise, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

His smile was friendly, and a bit apologetic. He looked different in the dim light, a bit younger, and not at all like someone who spends his days in an office doing… whatever those men inside did.

“You mind if I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the empty spot next to you on the bench. You just shook your head, a bit wary of him still.

He smiled, and started fishing around in his pockets until he pulled out a small baggie of tobacco and a pack of rolling papers. You raised your eyebrows, and smirked.

“You roll your own cigarettes?” you asked.

He nodded, not quite looking at you, focused intently on the task and hand.

“Yep. It’s so much better than that crap you smoke, trust me.”

You scoffed, despite the fact that this man was technically your customer, and your shift wasn’t quite over yet.

“Yeah, well, I’m doing just fine with what I’ve got. Thanks though…” you trailed off, looking at him expectantly. He caught on and turned to face you, grinning.

“Steve. Steve Harrington.”

He extended a hand towards you. You hesitated for a moment, caught off-guard by the simplicity of the gesture from someone like him, but you took it, telling him your own name. His much bigger hand was warm and calloused, shaking yours firmly before pulling away.

You stared at him intently, desperately trying to figure him out as you placed your cigarette between your lips and inhaled. It was hard to figure out what exactly his deal was - but, he was talking to you like you were an actual person, so that was at least a step above most of the people you’d waited on here.

When he finished rolling, he stuck the cigarette between his lips, then sighed.

“Shit - d’you have a light?”

You nodded, reaching into your handbag and pulling out your small blue lighter. He leaned in close, close enough that you could faintly smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating off of him in the cool May evening. It took a moment for the flame to catch, then he was leaning back and he took a drag, letting his eyes flutter shut.

You looked away quickly, staring at the street ahead. Your black cocktail dress didn’t offer much coverage, causing you to shiver slightly as a breeze picked up. It was Steve who broke the silence, after a few moments.

“I want to apologize, by the way - my, uh, colleagues… they’re assholes.”

You nearly choked at his words, whipping around to face him.

“I’m sorry… what?”

“I - I don’t know how much you heard in there, but -”

“I heard enough,” you said quickly.

His face fell, then hardened. He looked… angry? Or, perhaps disappointed.

“I really am sorry. I know I probably should have said something, but…Brenner’s my boss. And, there’s a lot of people who would kill to work for him. So, you have to understand… I mean, Tommy and Billy, they’re real jerks. I can’t stand them, most of the time. So, just know that if you want to punch them in the face, I’d understand.”

You laughed at that, shaking your head.

“Well, just between you and me, I do want to punch them. But… I would really like to keep my job, and actually get a good tip at the end of the night. So, if I can make it through the next -” you glanced at your watch, “- half an hour or so, I’ll be alright. I’m kind of used to it anyway, working here.”

You felt his eyes on you, but didn’t turn to meet his gaze. Then, he said more softly, “I’m sorry to hear that. Really.”

You shrugged.

“It’s fine. But, thank you - most people don’t take the time to say that, I guess.”

A moment of semi-awkward silence fell between you and him, before you added, “But, it’s good to know that I apparently have a nice ass.”

He laughed at that, choking on the smoke he was inhaling.

“Oh God - Billy and Tommy really are the worst. Did you hear that they actually were trying to make a bet about you in there?”

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued.

“What kind of bet?”

He suddenly broke eye contact, staring straight ahead as he shook his head vigorously.

“You know what - nevermind, you’d be disgusted -”

“Well now you have to tell me,” you conceded, inching closer. “C’mon, it can’t be that bad -”

“They said if I manage to get you to go home with me tonight, they’d agree on this huge deal with HNL that they’ve been trying to close with our European counterpart for months - they said it because they knew it wouldn’t happen, of course, I don’t really -”

“What would you get?” you asked bluntly.

“Huh?”

“If they thought you won the bet, like, would that be good for your job?”

He scoffs, nodding fervently.

“Um, yes - my yearly bonus would probably quadruple -”

“Then let’s do it,” you said.

His mouth fell open, and he was staring at you like you had three heads.

“Do what, exactly?”

He suddenly looked flushed, frozen in place as he stared at you. You felt a devilish grin spread on your face as you looked back at him, stubbing out the cigarette with the toe of your shoe.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, Harrington.”

*****

You had made sure he arrived back at the table only moments before you. The group of cajoling men were louder now, Tommy slurring his words and Billy in a heated debate with Brenner. Steve flashed a smile at the group, then started sipping his drink as if he had never left.

“What I’m saying is, if we offer them 14 percent -”

“Well, at that rate, we may as well sell them the whole goddamn company -”

“We’re going to have to budge at least a little if we want to make headway, otherwise Upside Tech might outbid us -”

“Harrington!” Tommy cried over the other two men. “Where th’hell ‘ave you been? You left me stranded with these two, they’re actually trying to work right now -”

Then, he spotted you, suddenly flashing a grin that was too wide for your liking.

“Mademoiselle - might I say, I think you’ve only gotten hotter since I last saw you -”

“That was only about twenty minutes ago,” Steve said firmly, cutting Tommy off. “Also, we’re in Italy, not France.”

Tommy waved him off, leaning closer across the table, towards where you stood.

“May I ask, how’re you getting home tonight, little lady?”

You just smiled.

“I’m actually so happy you brought that up - while I appreciate your concern and all, I’ve got that covered.”

You then turned to Steve, who froze in place.

“Ready to go, Steve?” you asked innocently.

All conversation stopped, then, the other men around the table stopped to gape at him. A smug smirk appeared on Steve’s face, and he stood up slowly, smoothing out his suit.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Despite yourself, your heart fluttered at the pet name, as ridiculous as it felt.

“What?” Billy said, his jaw nearly on the floor.

But before they could ask any more questions, Steve was holding out his bent arm, which you graciously hooked yourself through. You pressed yourself into his side, flashing another grin back at the group.

“I’ve left your bill on the table - thank you gentlemen for a wonderful evening, and we hope to see you soon!”

Then Steve surveyed the table, adding, “I suspect you’ll be in touch about negotiation meetings shortly? Since that was the deal and all. I’ll see you at the office on Monday.”

Then, you and Steve turned a corner and headed out the door, to where a car was already waiting for you.

Steve gestured for you to go in ahead of him, opening the backseat door. You slid across, greeting the driver quickly and Steve followed, shutting the door behind you. The second it was closed, you both looked at each other, and burst into uncontrollable laughter.

“Oh my God - did you see their faces?”

“I’m going to live on that for years,” he added, fighting to breathe. You threw your head back, practically cackling at the memory of their dumbfounded expressions.

“That was amazing,” Steve said, regaining his composure. “Seriously, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it - I think I got off of it more than you.”

“I doubt that.”

You met his gaze, and your breath stopped for a moment. He really was handsome, his honey-brown eyes staring into yours with such sincerity that it was actually overwhelming. You looked away quickly, staring straight ahead.

“Well, if anything, it made my shift more interesting, so thanks,” you said, fiddling with your hands in your lap.

“Yeah, and you just made me my yearly bonus, so thank you.”

After a moment, he cleared his throat.

“So, uh, where do you live? So I can get you home.”

“Oh! Right,” you said. “Um, do you have any ID or anything?”

Steve furrowed his brow, confused.

“Why are you asking?”

“Look, don’t take this personally - I’ve watched way too much Criminal Minds in my life. And, while I’m sure you’re nice and all, I’m not exactly gonna tell a strange man I’ve never met where I live without some precautions. So, I’m going to take a picture of your ID and send it to my roommate, so she knows who to turn in if I end up on the news, yeah?”

Steve just smirked, and pulled out his wallet.

“So, you think I’m strange?”

You shrugged, fighting a smile.

“Obviously, yes.”

Steve chuckled softly, fishing his license out of his wallet.

“Fair enough - as long as you’re not trying to steal my identity or anything.”

“Oh, definitely,” you said sarcastically. “I was actually going to buy a mansion in your name, if that’s alright.”

He laughed, handing you the card as you took a photo. The address was in Indiana - interesting. He was also 30, judging from his birthday - nearly ten years older than you. Also interesting. You handed it back, shooting a quick text to Robin:

I’ll explain later, but in case I get murdered!

You attached the photo and pressed send.

Satisfied, you leaned forward, telling your address to the driver, who nodded and pulled onto the busy city street.

You leaned back in your seat, staring out the window. You passed dimly-lit alleyways and bustling restaurants, groups smoking on the sidewalk and couples kissing on benches as the evening started winding down. The silence in the car is comfortable enough, considering that you met the man beside you a few hours ago. It’s him who breaks the lull in conversation, once again.

“So, why did you do it?” he asked quietly.

“Hm?”

“The bet? Well, kind of - at least, why did you make it look like I - like we -”

You shrugged, shifting to face him.

“Honestly?”

He nodded, gaze fixed on you.

“Well - a few reasons, I guess. I knew it would get those jerks off of my back. And, I knew it would help you, with your bonus and all.”

“And why did you want to help me, though? You know nothing about me.”

“Not true,” you said firmly. “I know one thing.”

“And what’s that?”

“You’re kind.”

It was simple, but true - for the type of clientele you usually served, he was a rare breed. Maybe it wasn’t much, but it was something.

“I mean, you were nice to me, and actually treated me like a person. I can’t say that for a lot of people, not in that place.”

“Oh,” he said softly.

A beat. Two. Then, he added, “Oh no - I didn’t even ask, did you have a car, back at the restaurant? Because we can go back and get it -”

“No, don’t worry about it - I don’t have one. I usually take the bus.”

“Oh - alright.”

You tried to stop yourself from rolling your eyes - Steve probably wouldn’t be caught dead on a bus. Or any public transport, for that matter. But, you kept it within yourself, and turned out towards the window again - the sights were getting more familiar, the buildings a little more run-down - closer to home.

You noticed your phone light up in your lap, and glanced down - a response from Robin.

Um… congrats???? Getting laid???? You’d better tell me EVERYTHING!!!!

You laughed under your breath, and saw Steve move to look at you out of the corner of your eye, curious. Before you could respond to her message, the car came to a halt right outside of your apartment building. You sighed, and turned to face the man beside you.

“Well, this is me. Thank you. For the ride home, I mean - you didn’t really have to do that.”

“Of course I did,” Steve said, waving a hand. “Had to make sure you got home safely and all, it was the least I could do.”

You both looked at each other for a moment, faces soft. You shot him another appreciative smile, and popped open the car door.

“Goodnight, Steve Harrington. Until we meet again!”

You knew the chances of seeing him ever again were slim at best, but it felt like the right thing to say, given the hilarity of the situation. After slamming the door shut, you rooted through your bag for your keys, taking the steps up to your door two at a time. Before heading inside, you turned and waved to the car one more time - Steve wasn’t visible through the tinted windows, but you liked to imagine that he was waving back, maybe even smiling fondly.

******

Two days later, an envelope was pushed through the mail slot in your door. It was Robin who brought it in, plopping it down on the kitchen table as you sipped your coffee.

“What’s that?” you asked.

She shrugged, carding through the other envelopes and flyers.

“Don’t know. But, it’s made out to you. The envelope looks fancy though - I mean, who the Hell puts a wax seal on letters anymore?”

You felt your heart skip a beat, and snatched it up, turning it over in your hands - it was thick, the nice kind of stationary that you had to go out of your way to buy. There was a return address, but it seemed like it was for an office building of some kind, with no name associated. And, right on the center, a red wax seal with an H. You felt your face grow hot, your stomach doing somersaults as you practically tore the thing open.

Inside was a simple piece of paper with a note scrawled on it. After writing out your name, it read:

Thank you again, for the other night. You have no idea how much that helped me out. Plus, it was probably the best time I’ve had at a work event… well, ever. But, since you provided such great service… you really should be tipped appropriately. I also made sure to leave a glowing review with your manager the next day. Buy yourself something nice.

S.H.

You glanced back in the envelope, and gasped - loudly enough that Robin stopped what she was doing, and joined you in her awe.

“Is that -”

“Yeah,” you whispered. “It’s a shit ton of money.”

He had sent a stack of €100 notes - you hadn’t counted yet, but it had to be over €1,000, at least.

“Dude, that’s like, at least two months’ rent right there, right?” Robin asks, flabbergasted.

“I - yeah.”

“Okay, be honest - are you a drug dealer? Is that, like, a side gig you’ve got going?”

You shook your head incredulously, gripping the money - the most cash you had ever held at one time in your life.

“No,” you admitted. “That would be a lot easier to explain.” Steve Harrington, you thought to yourself, what’s your deal?

Notes: a brand new fic! A ton of credit goes to my friend Em, who indulges my fantasies and headcanons with plenty of ideas of her own. Also, I've never been to Rome, so bear with me here. Also, please always read content warnings before reading each part!

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thatredheadwriter · 2 years

Text

Mine

steven grant x reader (mentions marc spector x reader)

The suit, the suit is amazing. Honestly it is. But you can’t help but be the slightest bit annoyed when it erases the marks you leave all over him. Lucky for you, Steven’s more than happy to let you have another go.

This is an NSFW oneshot for female reader with Steven Grant of the show Moon Knight (with mentions of Marc Spector). This work contains smut and mature language and should not be read by those under 18 (or the age of majority in your locale). As a writer, I will attempt to make accurate warnings for each of my fics, however I cannot guarantee that I will identify each and every sensitive topic. My works regularly contain swearing, allusions to/mentions of sex, and canon level violence.

Warnings Include (but are not limited to):

Mentions of canon-level violence

Swearing

Cute pet name for reader

Marking/biting

Possesiveness kink (use of the word ‘mine’ a lot, not jealousy)

grinding/dry humping

Spit as lube (kinda, you’ll see)

P in V penetrative sex

Unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy)

Riding (female on top)

Creampie

Please read at your own discretion and consume your fanfiction responsibly.

You had a love-hate relationship with Khonshu the moon god.

While others might balk at your open animosity towards a deity with his power, you felt it was perfectly justified given how much he fucked up your life and your boyfriend’s life. Well, technically boyfriends, plural. It was a little confusing sometimes, being in a relationship with both Marc and Steven, and them being part of the same system, but oh if they didn’t make it worth your while every chance they got.

But no, sometimes you couldn’t stand Khonshu, and this was one of those times.

You’d spent the entirety of your lazy Sunday afternoon sucking hickeys and leaving little love bites on Marc as you wasted the day away drinking cheap wine and watching horrible television. Beautiful crimson scratches decorated his back that night once he was finished with you.

You put in all that work, painting his skin so beautifully with the evidence of your love, only for it to be gone as he stood before you now.

Now, you were grateful for Khonshu. He’d saved Marc’s life all those years ago and it’s true that without him you would have never met either of them, and it is his armor that protects them when they’re fighting evil, or whatever. And you were grateful for the armor itself. You’d seen Steven shishkabobbed, Marc stabbed and shot, and the armor allowed them to come out completely fine, better than fine really.

But did it always have to undo your masterpieces?

Every time one of them would call up the suit, its healing properties would magically undo the constellation of marks you’d worked so hard on, usually just hours earlier.

Steven played with the hem of his sweater, watching as you worked in the kitchen of your shared flat. He could tell something was bothering you. It was in the way your brow stayed furrowed even after you’d scrubbed away the stubborn spot of dried cake batter from the counter and how you were silent, rather than humming a song from one of the fifty different playlists you had for cleaning.

Typically he wouldn’t disturb you. As a neat and tidy person himself, he understood wanting to work alone for a bit, finding calm in the monotony of cleaning. But something was eating at you, and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

He made his way around the bar and came to stand behind you at the sink where you were wiping out coffee mugs from breakfast. His arms wrapped around your middle as he leaned in to the side and placed a chaste kiss to your left temple.

You sighed, a further sign of your irritation.

Steven took the dripping mug from your hands and set it in the drying rack before taking a step back from you. His lingering hands on your waist pushed and pulled, prompting you to turn and face him.

“What’s wrong, dove?” he asked, head tilted like a confused pup.

You were chewing on the inside of your cheek before you answered a simple, “Nothing.”

“I know when you’re hiding something,” he pushed, hands reaching out for your hips once more, his thumbs running in soothing circles over your lower abdomen.

You looked at his cocked head and raised eyebrows and sighed in defeat.

“It’s stupid, that’s all,” you turned back to the sink and reached in for something else to watch.

“I don’t think it’s stupid,” Steven said from behind you.

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“How can it be stupid if it’s bothering my dove?” he asked, moving your hair aside so he could kiss the back of your neck.

His sweetness made you smile and roll your eyes a little.

You turned back to face him, wiping your hands dry on a nearby dishtowel.

“No, no, it’s just that…I hate it when…” you trailed off, wringing the towel in your hands.

“Hey, hey,” Steven leaned down until he was eye level with you, “You know you can tell me anything. What is it?”

“I just hate it when that stupid suit undoes all my hard work,” you confessed with a pout.

“The suit? What are you talking about?”

Your hand reached up and traced down the side of his neck, and his eyes widened in recognition. His face contorted as he stifled a chuckle and he managed to frown a bit.

“I’m sorry, darling. I know how much you like marking me.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist and leaned your head into his chest. He allowed your weight to push him back into the counter behind him. When you opened your eyes, you realized his exposed collarbone was right there and you took a moment to appreciate the fact that he never replaced his old stretched out jumpers.

With your arms still wrapped around him loosely, you moved just a bit so you could kiss your target before nipping at it lightly. Steven tensed underneath you as you began to work at the spot, sucking a fresh mark into the delicate skin.

Once you were satisfied with that one, you moved up higher, nose nudging his jaw as you searched for the special spot that made him putty underneath you. You knew you had it when he moaned in your ear, the sound making your core throb.

“Shit,” he whispered as your teeth sunk into the spot, leaving a pretty little mark.

“Love marking you Stevie,” you hummed, pulling him down so you could nip at his earlobe a little bit. “Want everyone to know you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” he sighed shakily. You could feel his cock hardening in his sweatpants up against your thigh, and you couldn’t help but grind against the growing bulge as you tangled your hands in his curls, still damp from the shower, and pulled his head back to give you full access to his jaw.

You finally pulled away after kissing and sucking down the hard line of his jaw, satisfied with what you’d done so far, and admired your work.

“God, Steven, you’re so pretty,” you breathed, running a hand over the stubble he hadn’t bothered shaving. Your thumb traced his bottom lip before you cupped his jaw and pulled him into a kiss.

Steven was an amazing kisser, despite his self-proclaimed lack of experience. Marc liked to claim it was muscle memory. But Marc’s lips and Steven’s were entirely different. Marc’s kisses were hungry and desperate, and yet somehow incredibly precise. Steven, on the other hand, he was soft and sweet. His mouth could be hot and needy, too, but he was always more gentle, more sloppy.

As you pulled away from him, you captured his bottom lip between your teeth, tugging on it just a bit before releasing him completely.

“I want you now,” you murmured into the hollow of his throat, letting your hand come up to play with the gold chain that always hung around his neck.

“Then you can have me,” he smiled down at you.

Keeping as close to him as possible, you tugged him around the counter and pushed him towards the couch. There was no way you were making it all the way to the bedroom, not when he was just so beautiful and all yours.

You straddled his lap almost instantly, pulling his face down so you could pepper it with kisses and making him giggle. Your heart soared at the sound an you couldn’t help but let out a little giggle yourself.

“I love you,” you grinned at him, pressing your forehead to his.

“I love you too,” he pecked you on the lips, once, twice, then the third kiss turned into something much deeper.

Your hands wandered up and down his chest, coming to a rest at the hem of his sweater for a moment before slipping underneath and caressing the warm skin there.

“Take it off f’me,” you urged, earning another giggle from Steven as he reached down to pull the worn fabric over his head and toss it onto the other end of the couch. You made a mental note to steal it later, as it was one of your favorites.

Your palms flattened against his chest to push him back against the couch cushions so you could kiss and nibble along his now exposed chest. His hands roamed your body, squeezing your sides and reaching down to knead your ass.

Little grunts of ‘fuck’ and ‘shit’ and ‘so good’ left his lips as you worked across the wide expanse of bare skin, intent on leaving plenty of marks. Unconsciously your hips began to grind into his lap as you worked, his hands making you feel wonderful things.

“Mmm, “ you sighed, resting your head on his chest for a moment and listening to his steady heartbeat. Your hips were moving more deliberately now, your desperation growing as you rutted into him. “Need to feel you, Steven.”

He swore under his breath as you moved back a bit so that you could pull down his sweats and access his hard cock, finally freeing it.

You hunched over a bit and spit into your hand before wrapping it around Steven’s cock and pumping a couple times. His head was tossed back against the couch as you worked, mouth forming words that you couldn’t quite hear.

When you stood up, he whined, head snapping up to find you and figure out what made you leave him, but what he saw more than made up for it.

You were pulling your t-shirt over your head, revealing the delicate flesh of your breasts and stomach. Steven’s hands explored your body as your thumbs hooked in your short and panties, pulling them down your legs in one quick motion.

Steven’s hands on your hips helped to guide and steady you as you moved to straddle him once more and position yourself over his cock.

The two of you groaned in tandem as he filled you, taking a moment to enjoy the closeness. Your arms were wrapped tight around his shoulders, holding him closer that you ever thought possible.

“God, I could stay like this forever,” you panted, your grip loosening so your hands could roam his back.

“I-I don’t know about forever,” Steven laughed breathily. His hips rutted up against you involuntarily and you bit down on your lip so hard that you were afraid you’d drawn blood.

You began rolling your hips in a circular motion, grinding his hips into you. Both of you were trembling groaning messes, a tangle of body and mind and soul.

His pubic bone ground against your clit so perfectly, your mouth opened in a silent scream. Steven saw this as the perfect opportunity to capture you in another open mouthed kiss, teeth knocking against each other as both of you gasped for breath.

You changed your approach a little, electing to bounce up and down on him a bit. Steven helped of course, thrusting up into you as much as he could. Your hands tangled in the short hair at the back of his head as your pleasure built.

“Fuck, Steven. M’gonna cum,” you whined, dipping your forehead to rest on his shoulder as he took the lead, fucking up into you with all he had.

“Come on, you can do it, dove,” he whispered in your ear. One of his hands left the bruising grip he’d had on your hip to slide two fingers in where your two bodies met. They curled up, rubbing hard on your clit.

You came fast and hard and it felt like every molecule of your being was vibrating on the same frequency. The only thing in your universe was Steven underneath you.

Steven was still chasing his own high and as he became lost in the throws of his own pleasure, he was worried about dropping you or allowing to slide off of his lap, so he carefully rolled you over to rest your back on the couch.

He slipped out of you only for a moment before he was inside you again, thrusting irregularly and you knew he was close. You drew him to your body as his climax built and scraped your nails down his back. The slight sting of pain mixed with the sensation of your cunt squeezing him finally took him over the edge.

“Fuck,” he swore into your ear as you sucked one last hickey on the side of his neck. His heart rate was slowing and his breathing became more steady as he finally pulled out of you.

“Mmm,” you hummed blissfully as he sat back on the couch, a tired sigh leaving his swollen lips. “I got you all marked up again. Now everybody’s gonna know you’re mine.”

He laughed at that, but stopped suddenly, cocking his head as if he was listening for something.

“Marc wants to know if you’re up for round two in the shower,” he said, slight flush to his cheeks. He’d just fucked you raw, and now he was getting embarrassed. Steven always managed to make you smile with how cute he was.

You smiled, lolling your head back to study the ceiling.

Steven cleared his throat, “He says…well he says it’s our turn to leave some marks on you.”

The thought had your thighs rubbing together, wanting to feel their teeth on you, mouth all over.

“I think we can make that happen,” you grinned at him before jumping up and moving towards the bathroom.

“Hey, Marc,” you addressed the alter, “First one in gets to pick the water temperature.”

You watched as Steven’s whole body tensed and his eyes rolled back in his head before he jumped up, chasing after you. Marc was competitive, and you loved to get him worked up so you could get him worked up.

thatredheadwriter’s Masterlist

#moon knight #not a spoiler #moon knight imagine #moon knight smut #steven grant #steven grant smut #steven grant x reader #steven grant x reader smut #marc spector #marc spector smut #marc spector x reader #marc spector x reader smut #steven grant oneshot #marc spector oneshot

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fallingintoyourlilaceyes · 5 months

Text

I would do anything (modern!Professor!Daemon Targaryen x Student!Reader)

synopsis: You are in danger of failing your class, so you have to beg your professor for a way to prevent that from happening. Something he is more than happy to help with.

warnings: age difference, power imbalance, semi public sex, smut, oral sex (m recieving), p in v sex, afab reader, she/her pronouns

word count: 2.5k

taglist: @ajthefujoshi @urmomsgirlfriend1, @hopelesswritergall

(If you want to be tagged in the `kissing booth AU´, for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)

As you sit in front of Professor Targaryen´s Office waiting for him to call you in, you feel like in the beginning of a cheap porn movie. Your leg bounces up and down rapidly and you don´t even want to think about the reason why you are sitting here right now. You're grades are slipping massively and now you need to beg him for extra work or anything really to better them. Desperately so or your parents would kill you. And the worst part was, that it was all your fault. If you hadn´t gotten distracted you wouldn´t be in this situation. Fuck! You scream as loud as you can in your head.

Running a hand through your hair for the millionth time. Until finally the clicking sound of the door besides you can be heard and Professor Targaryen calls your name.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I know I could have come in during office hours, but I… I just couldn´t wait that long.” You say as your fingers pick at each other.

“It´s okay. Why don´t you tell me what you wanted to speak about?” He looks at you over the top rim of his glasses.

You take a deep breath, feeling your pulse between your legs at the sight. Daemon Targaryen was a good looking man. Aged like a fine wine more than anything. He had all of the female student body wrapped tightly around his finger, some of the guys as well probably and you were no exception for that. Damn it, but you had to concentrate right now. Distractions like this where the whole reason why you were sitting right here right now in the first place. He on the other hand seemed like he had exactly those distractions in mind exclusively.

“I am aware that I let myself get… distracted for a while and my grades have suffered from that. Badly. So I wanted to consult you about ways to bring them up again?” You can barely keep your eyes away from how tight his shirt sits over his chest.

“So much is true and I admire your determination to wanting to better yourself, but I fear I am not sure if I have that much extra work left so close to the midterms.” He folds his hands on top of the desk as he speaks and you have to pull yourself together not to drool over them then and there. His long fingers just had that effect. His own eyes rest comfortably on your figure. Running over the barely hidden swell of your breasts, the pooch of your belly, and the hint of firm thighs just under the hemline of the summer dress you decided to wear today.

“Please, professor. I´ll do anything you ask of me.” You plead. Close to falling to your knees and begging. Damn, you needed to get a grip of reality and you needed to do so fast. This wasn´t actual porn.

“Anything?” That word made his ears perk up in interest. Would you really do anything?

“Yes, professor. I swear I would do anything. I just need my grades to become better again.” You bite on your lower lip in an attempt to calm yourself. A seemingly innocent action that gets his blood flowing. Boiling. Directly all the way down to his core, making his cock stir in the tightening pants.

“Well, if you swear it… There might be a way.” His tongue darts out to wet his lips, at which you can´t help but feel your core clenching around nothing.

“Please, tell me professor.” You lean slightly forward in anticipation. Completely forgetting what you had decided to wear today, thus granting him an almost perfect look deep into your cleavage.

“Oh, fuck you calling me professor like it doesn´t turn you on just to say it.” He chuckles and shakes his head slightly. “Come here.”

Hesitantly you stand up and walk around his big desk. Watchful eyes never leaving him, as he pulls his chair back enough for you to take your place in the space under his desk.

“Kneel.” It isn´t a suggestion that passes Daemon´s lips. It´s a clear command spoken in a raspy tone and you are not about to disobey him. Not when the mere sight of him running his hand through his hair and readjusting his glasses drove a fire through your veins that could only be doused by his touch.

You bite your lip again as you settle down, looking at your professor through your thick lashes. Your hands immediately run up the inside of his thighs to open his belt. Pulling out his length, your eyes widen at the size of it.

“Do you like what you see?” He muses. Your only answer coming out in the form of a slow nod. However when your eyes meet his lilac gaze again and you see the look in it, your hesitation fades.

Leaning forward, you lick a stripe up his shaft to the tip. Watching his eyes shut you repeat the motion, letting your hands continue to caress his thighs. When his breath hitches at your ministrations you finally take him into one hand, spreading the fluid collecting at the red tip along it.

Letting your tongue swirl around it teasingly slow, you flutter your eyelashes up at Daemon. Waiting until one of his big hands found their way into your hair, holding it in a makeshift ponytail, to wrap your lips around his cock. By the way his hand flexes you can tell that he is holding back from pushing your head down. Breathing as heavily as you are as you take him further into your mouth with every time you move it down.

Once his cockhead hits the back of your throat, you let out a low moan. The vibration getting his length to twitch in your mouth, which in turn causes tears to burn in the corners of your eyes. If only you hadn´t worn makeup today. Your mascara would end up smudging for the whole rest of the school to see. Too bad you couldn´t give a shit about that little fact at the moment. The weight of his length on your tongue being absolutely distracting you from any coherent thought or concern.

Blinking the tears away you start bobbing your head up and down in a slow pace, the hand that still sat wrapped around his hardness, falling into rhythm with your head. Shifting your weight slightly you sit back on your haunches, hollowing your cheeks just to get another reaction out of him. Which you do this time in the form of a soft groan and his fingers pulling at your hair ever so gently. The dull pain that travels over your scalp from it pulls another moan from your lungs. This one louder than the last. Prompting his eyes to dart over to the door. Hoping that no one would hear, but also bucking his hips at the same time. For a split second the thought about this being wrong crosses his mind, but just as fast as it comes, it is replaced by how arousing it is nonetheless. Fastening the pace with which you bob your head up and down, you take Daemon in even further, swallowing around his thick length. Concentrating on how to breath, your eyes flutter close. Keeping your rhythm steady. Daemons groans come more frequent now. The heavenly sounds eliciting a whimper or whine from your side every single time. Your own arousal collecting between your thighs, sticking your panties to your core. The next time his hand tightens in your hair, you start to rub your wet core against your heel. It´s not something you control, but rather something that controls you. Leads you on your path towards relief as you bring Daemon there as well, but it isn´t enough. Nothing you could do to yourself could be enough, when you could have his touch instead.

As your whines of frustration grow frequent so does his hips bucking up into you. So you ignore the way your neck and jaw slowly start hurting and pick up your pace ever so slightly once more.

“Fuck… I´m so close.” Heavy pants leave his mouth.

His eyes return to lock with yours as hot ropes of cum shoot down your throat before he can even give you another warning. Leading him through his orgasm, you slow down the movements of your hand, before letting his cock out of your mouth with a wet pop. Panting heavily as you swallow and let your tongue swipe out to clean the remnants of his spent. Daemon thinks that just with this sight in mind he could die a happy man as he helps you stand up again. Leaning against the desk as your knees still slightly hurt from the hard floor. Both of you catching your breath for a second. Yet his erection didn´t seem to go away. If anything it throbbed even more with each passing second as his dazed, hungry eyes roamed over your body. Shining with remnants of his cum and your spit.

“Turn around.” His rough voice rings through to your foggy brain. One hand caressing over your jawline , neck and exposed collar bones.

You turn around immediately. Swaying as you do what you are told. Holding onto the desk, your knees wobble even more as Daemon stands to press up behind you. The hand that had before caressed your chin, now wanders up your back to grab the back of your neck. A surprised whine escapes your lungs at the sudden rough touch. The fire in your core churning, burning even brighter as he tears down the thin straps of the dress. Effectively exposing your whole bare upper body to him and anyone that might enter the room at any second. Instead of letting this stop the two of you though, it only turned you on more. Letting him push you onto the surface in front of you, you hastily push up the skirt of the dress and your panties to the side and spread your legs for him.

Daemon wastes no time in entering you. Sucking in a drawn out breath as your velvet walls surround his dick tightly in their wet heat.

“So tight…” He says breathily. Giving you barely a second to get used to the pain of the way he stretches you out.

Your back arches off the table so hard you feel like it will break under him rutting inside of you without abandon, turning the pain into delicious pleasure soon enough.

Daemon takes his free hand off your hip, where he had previously held you, to wrap it around your body. Bringing it down to your clit to rub fast circles into it. If it wasn´t for that hand you are sure you would fall to the ground with how weak your knees feel at his ministrations. Wobbling like they are made of jelly as he fucks into you like he is possessed.

“So… Good…” Your words come out in a hushed whisper. “Please.”

You don´t even have to finish your plea for him to understand. Daemons fingers rub even faster circles into the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs, his hips slapping against your ass as he pistons inside of your wet pussy. The sounds your bodies create in the process so lewd and addictive at the same time, you think you will never forget them. When a particularly loud moan falls from your lips, the hand form your neck loosens too to clamp down over your mouth.

“Shit… Shh, or we will be caught and you don´t want that. Do you, good girl?” He rasps into your ear.

You shake your trembling head. A muffled “No.” Sounding through his long and thick fingers.

“That´s a good little slut. All nice and tight, doing whatever her professor wants her to do.” The words are taunting but the tone he says them in is so sweet and full of praise, your brain gets even foggier. You barely even realize the whimper of protest coming from you at the pet name.

“What? Are you not letting me fuck you for a better grade?” He chuckles, followed right by choked grunt as your cunt tightens around his length with the oncoming waves of an orgasm. “I thought so.”

Chasing that oncoming high your hips develop a mind of their own. Meeting his thrusts as best as they still can. The rhythm almost too fast to keep up. The whines and cries of pleasure from you come without pause now. Small tears trickling down your cheeks from the pure sensation of his fingers on and his cock inside of you. Every oh so little sensation, like his hot, heavy breath in your neck, are driving you further towards the edge and as he does so the walls of your hot core can´t help but flutter. Seemingly sucking him in even further and pulling him closer to the edge with you. Your moans turn frantic the closer you get. Glad for his hand over your mouth, as if had it not been there, someone would sure walked in on you two by now. Daemon is much better at controlling the volume of the grunts and curses that leave his mouth. His mouth that was so close to the most sensitive part of your neck.

”Fuck, fuck, fuck…” A string of muffled high-pitched curses makes its way through his hand. And with a few more thrusts of his hips dragging his thick cock over the spongy spot inside you, you fall over the edge hard. The waves of overstimulating pleasure pulling you under until you feel like you can´t breathe anymore. Daemon pulls your shaking hips close to his stuttering ones one last time and with a gasp he comes for the second time. Painting the walls deep inside of you with his seed.

Exhausted you collapse forwards onto the desk beneath you. The wood cold against your bare breasts. A happy, blissed out smile on your face as he removes his hand from your mouth to let you catch your breath. Staying inside of you until the two of you have calmed down enough to continue on.

When he pulls out you let out one last whine at the sudden empty feeling. Fixing yourself up again your eyes rest on your professor once more. An almost hopeful and ultimately satisfied expression shimmering in them as the two of you sit back down in your respective seats.

His eyes watch you even closer than before now. The way your thighs press together in an attempt to not let his cum drip out of you and onto the chair or anywhere else, the way your hands play with the hem of the dress again as you try to find the right words for this new situation.

“So, uhm…” You feel your face and décolleté burn with the awkwardness of the remnants of your previous doings hanging in the air and the question you feel like you have to ask, just to be sure. “So, can there be anything done about my grades?”

He runs his hand through his hair and readjusts his glasses again, before he speaks in a calm voice. “We most definitely can. And… if you come back tomorrow, they might become even better.”

With those words and a wink he lets you go.

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon x you #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon imagine #modern hotd au #modern hotd #modern house of the dragon au #modern house of the dragon #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fic #house of the dragon fic #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x you #house of the dragon x you

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josibunn · 1 month

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we need to talk about dilf jack !! the way that man aged like fine wine , in his early 40s and has a single streak of grey hair but it blends effortlessly with his dark strands. he hasn’t married yet and has no kids , but is extremely loaded due to him being a ceo of a company he worked hard on from the bottom up. a hard-working man , a man who demands respect.

i just know he’s one of the best brat tamers. so of course being spoiled rotten by mr thurlow , you tend to have a fit of brattiness that he cannot stand. whining over an anklet that had broke while he’s in an extremely important business call was starting to irk him , and he gave you multiple warnings to quit it. that stare he gives to you when your mouth keeps running makes a cold sweat run down your back. but of course wanting to see how far you can go , deciding to whine even more to the point where the person on the other line can hear you. seeing how tense he got from your actions made you so wet.

and now for acting like a brat , you’re getting fucked so good on his desk. incoherent babbling leaving your mouth as his slender yet strong hands wrap around your neck. “ you like acting up , hm ? i spoil you so much princess yet you’re never grateful for anything. “ a small ‘ im sorry ! ‘ leaves your mouth as he angles his hips to hit that same spot to make your toes curl. pushing your legs up to your chest , giving you a good fucking to get rid of your bratty attitude. he wants his good girl back.

- 🎀

thank u sm pinkie I LOVEEEEEE this idea!! I hope u don’t mind i’m joining these two,,I think they mix well :3 (also pinkie I got your other request ab jack just so you know,,i’m not ignoring It I swear! i’m just a perfectionist :P)

I think jack would be so hot older, i’ve genuinely wanted to put something like this out for so long I just didn’t think you guys would side with me!! I love picturing them older like jack would look soo good I hc he’s always in business casual as in older guy methinks :3

tw slapping n choking, degrading, daddy kink, teased orgasm denial n praise!! age gap too. some puppy play and “papa” used,,sorry i’ve been so into it lately :3

I think he’d be around 37-42? does that work?

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 !!

I think ur ask would happen on a day he brings u to his office and lets his baby see what makes her pockets so heavy. you come in some frilly cute outfit, being so young he doesn’t expect you to conform with how he dresses, but he keeps a hard hand on you as he walks you around his company, explaining everything while walking past other workers.

you’re looking around, touching everything and peeking your head into places you shouldn’t, being polite and greeting everyone while he stands behind you, shooting everyone hard looks before you wanna look somewhere else, making little comments like “dyou think I could work here? i’d look so cute in the skirts n i’d wear my best pumps!” “yeah but, it’s not just skirts n heels baby,” he smiles and pats your head as you two walk out the elevator.

it’s all peaches n cream until u start whining about, which he knew would come but still dreaded. suddenly you were tired, your feet hurt and you were hungry. he was trying so hard to be patient with you but you always push it :( he even goes as far as to hold your heels for you but it seemed like you were just pissing him off for fun.

he about had enough when the chain of your anklet got stuck in the carpet and breaks off and you flip out, gasping and whining as you collect the charms off the ground. jacks getting pissy bc you’re so loud, your skirts riding up and you’re making a scene again. “baby-hey, look at me,” he says, making you look up with a pout when that tone comes out.

“people are working right now and you’re making a scene. we can go to tiffs and get you a new one, ok? get the fuck up,” he grits the last part, sending you a hard look that makes you huff, crossing your arms and walking far ahead of him to the elevator. he rolls his eyes and follows far behind you, his brows raising at your audacity to leave the floor without him, a breathy chuckle of an “oh yeah?” coming off his tongue as he crosses his arms and waits for the elevator to come back down.

sure, you were a little loud but he didn’t have to be so mean in front of everyone! though you knew better, so you waited with your arms crossed until he got out the elevator, an angry pout all over you face. he steps out and turns his head, nodding when he saw you waiting for him. “yeah that’s what I fuckin thought. cmere,” he wraps his arm around you roughly, making you yelp and squirm against him to get away but he only held you closer, digging into your side.

“take me home. you’re bein’ so mean, n I don’t wanna be here.” you look away from him as he walks you into his big office room, closing the door and his blinds. “so you don’t wanna go to tiffany’s?” he puts his hands in his hips, making you roll your eyes as you plop onto his couch. “yeah I thought so. and roll those fucking eyes again little girl,” he warns you as he sits under his desk, pointing a finger at you before he rolls his sleeves and gets on his computer.

in all honestly, his threats always got you soaking wet, wondering what he’d do when you pushed his limit. “what’re you doing now,” you ask after a few minutes of silence, walking over and looking over his shoulder. “glad you asked, because I have a call coming up with an investor in..three minutes and I really just need you to be good for me, ok?” he looks up at you, rubbing the back of your thighs.

“what kind of meeting?” you ask, running your hands through his hair, messing it up. “kind that makes me a lot of money, which makes you a lot of money. nothin you’d be interested in, promise. just need you to be quiet,” he nods. “are they gonna be able to see you?” “no, it’s a call meeting, he’ll only hear me.” “can I sit with you?” “sure baby, I just need you to be quiet, ok? it’ll be done as soon as it starts.”

and you comply for a little while, but twenty minutes into the call you’re getting antsy, he let you sit on his lap but with the way his leg bouncing has whining and pawing at his chest, giving him big puppy eyes that he just ignores oh you’re growin hornier by the second :(( especially when he’s being so assertive and focused,,not paying you any mind.

..especially when you start grinding on his growing bulge, grabbing onto his bicep, quietly pleading for something, anything. he’s keeping his composure but his hand was gripping the arm rest, he couldn’t believe you were trying to bomb this investment on him because you were what? horny? it was making the vein in his forehead bulge.

he shoots you a few glares as he speaks but you don’t care anymore, like, you’re supposed to be his baby! his everything and you should have all his attention, this was taking far too long. “jackie..” you whine, his brows raising immediately at your audacity to interrupt him at a time like this, cutting his sentence.

“mr. thurlow is..is there someone in the room present with you? I thought this was a private matter.” his investor says from the speaker. “no, it is, i’m sorry my-my girlfriend is with me but she won’t be a problem,” he shoots you look that lets you know he’s not asking you he’s telling you, “continue.” jack says, gripping your hip now.

you scoff and roll your eyes, “how long?” you whisper in his ear, playing with his buttons, getting enough down to stroke his chest. “I dunno pup,” he whispers quietly. “this is business. I can’t make everything go faster if I want it to work out for us in the end.” he tried to speak and simultaneously listen to his business partner.

“but I really can’t do it with you..whining in my fucking ear and talking during my meeting. ok? just..” he puts a finger to his mouth before directing his attention back to the call, adding his opinion on the topic at hand. you pick your jaw up and cross your arms, sighing as you turn your back to him on his lap, leaning on the desk.

he doesn’t pay you any mind as you continue grinding down on his bulge, gripping your hip and guiding you ever so slightly to keep you peaceful as you hold onto his desk, brows furrowed as pleasure overuns you. you look back and teasingly lift your dress to your hips, showcasing the tiny pink thong you had on with a pout. he sighs with a head tilt, watching you move against him, his bulge nudging between your clothed folds.

“daddy..” you whisper again, your lip tucked between your teeth as you speed up, mouth falling open with silent moans, making him shoot you a silent warning. “you’re being so mean to me..” you whisper again, leaning over the desk and showcasing just how tiny your panties were, your lips peaking out of them the more you fuck yourself on him.

“you’re bein a fuckin’ brat.” he grits his teeth, pinching your side, making you jump and yelp. this wasn’t fair :( you’ve been so good all day (in your eyes) and he was just ignoring you in your messy mood. he should be giving it to you hard, you had to speed this up. you reach down and start circling your clit, moaning quietly into his desk and grinding back on him.

you look back at him as you pull your panties to the side, his cheek perched against his fist as he doesn’t dare give you a glance, but you know he’s fed up, his hair going every which way, his fave red with anger and that familiar vein in his forehead bulging. you whine, he’s so sexy. his shirt rolled to his elbows, strong arms squeezing against each other, not to mention his chest on display since you unbuttoned his shirt.

you trail up his body, eyes landing on his pink lips that command big bucks for a share of stocks, it makes you sticky, eyes rolling back as you slide your fingers with a loud moan, your juices already coating yourself and his pants as you pump into yourself, and suddenly everything goes quiet, your eyes peeping back open to see him sat up now, glaring at you with an open mouth, his investor on the other line now gone quiet.

he finger combs his hair out of his face, that gray strand popping back, and before he pleads your his case he’s cut off. “mr. thurlow, jack,” you hear, “it’s clear you have other…personal matters to attend to. you understand my time is valuable and I won’t be kept up by someone who can’t hold down his fort for a simple hour.”

jacks eyes close in frustration, rubbing his teeth together and you swear you see sparks flying between them. “right sir, yes. I understand.” hes glaring at you with each words and you smile, now you’ve got his attention!! :3

“so i’ll have my assistant get back with you for a better time maybe. don’t count on it.” is all is said before the line goes quiet and he hangs up and the room falls silent with tension, jack sighing into his hands. “can we play now daddy..?” you ask, repositioning yourself on his desk, legs spread before him.

he glared at you before grabbing your throat and standing, making you yelp and hold onto his wrist, eyes wide on him. “you happy now? you fuckin’ happy now huh??” hes raising his voice, waving your neck around slightly as he speaks. “I had him, had him in the fucking bag baby and you couldn’t keep quiet for an hour? are you serious??” he raises his brows, a little grin on his face.

you hated when he did that, smiled when he was angry. so fuckin scary. “daddy I-i’m sorry I just missed you..-” “daddy i’m sorry-” he mocks you in a high voice before sending a slap across your face, making you yelp and squeeze your eyes shut, gripping onto his shirt. “bullshit. you been a brat all damn day, givin’ me attitude, yellin’ n whinin after I told you how important it was, for what? some dick??” he keeps you in his hold, your eyes teary and frightful, staring at him big.

“now you wanna be quiet, alright,” he nods, poking his cheek with his tongue as he gets his pants undone, not even bothering to tell you to take your panties off before yanking them off you, scooting you further on his desk and prying your legs open. “imma give you what you want lil girl, don’t fuckin worry,” his tone is low and condescending as he taps his tip against your clit, sliding it down and gathering your wetness, your breath hitching.

a loud cry of a “fuck!” erupts from you when he slides his length into you, your hand grabbing at his shirt and trying to push him off as he wastes no time but he’s not budging, a low mmmmmm coming from his as he lays you on your back, hand planted on your chest to keep you down, his muscle overpowering you.

he listens to your whimpers and mewls of his name, eyes low and cheeks hot as he takes in your wet cunt, already fucking into you, leaving you no room to adjust. “fuck jack, h-hollon,” your mouth hangs open, eyes shut before you moan out high, feeling him gradually fuck you harder and harder.

“hold on? hold on?” he repeats, brows raised as he grabs at your hips, forcing you to stay put on the desk, sliding his cock in you deeper, a gasp coming from you as you arch your back up. “did you hold on when I told you how fuckin important this was for me? for us??” he almost winds himself, the feel of your walls sucking him in so greedy making him choke over his words, eyes almost rolling back. even angry, his body reacts against him when it comes to you.

“so you’re gonna take it, kay? look at me mama, open those fuckin eyes,” he grabs your cheeks, shaking your head and making your eyes snap open at him, not holding back your moans as he nods slow, making sure you keep eye contact with him. “you’re gonna take it, since you wanted it so damn bad. can’t believe you baby, so disappointed in you.” he faux pouts and tilts his head at you, making you whine.

“daddy don’t-don’t do that I didn’t mean to,” you mewl, holding his hand that held his face, but he pushes you away and holds you down by the shoulder. “nuh uh, don’t pull that shit. you’re being a bad girl, and I know I taught my girl better, yeah?” your lip quivers as you nod. “m’sorry daddy,,”

“I know pup. just gonna teach you again,” he hoists your ankles over his shoulders, hands gripping your thighs tight against his chest before he’s plummeting his cock into you deeper and deeper, your eyes popping open and rolling out with a loud throaty moan, you feel him beat that spongey spot in you, drool pooling in your mouth.

he sees it, all the thoughts popping out of your brain onto the floor as he watches you with a steady face, condescending eyes hard on you and lips parted slightly, brows frowned. you’re his baby, his pup he couldn’t stand punishing you but he knew you just needed it good and a little discipline.

you moan high and loud again when he bends you further, legs pushing closer to yourself as you grab his shoulders, anything to ground yourself from his thick cock that doesn’t let up a brutal pace against you, long hard strokes, his tip reaching new highs inside of you and you feel like you’re seeing stars. “yeah baby? this what you wanted?” he rasps, a nod and a short “yeah” coming from you as you squeeze your eyes shut. “"jaaack —mmph- daddy it's so — just-please it's so-"

his lips upturn into a small smirk, his poor baby couldn’t even think straight. “yeah, pup? what else?” he says airily, looking between you two and seeing the strings of your slick sticking to his pubes, you’re fuckin soaking, he thinks. “cmon babygirl, tell me what it is.” he encourages, speaking to you in that voice that has you whining out, your brows furrowing together.

“daddy s’good, ur so good!!” you moan out, nails digging into his shoulder blades as he nods along. “yeah? this dick doin you good baby? s’what you needed?” he bits his lip over a smirk, watching you come undone under him, eyes rolling back into your lil head, moans growing squeaky when he wraps a hand around your throat.

you nod quickly, a soft hand going to his chest and bouncing to his wrist, holding him softly. he feels it when you clench onto him for dear life, signaling your dam about to break. “you feelin real good puppy? gonna cum?” he coos, shaking your throat in his grasp to make you look at him, your feet scrunching as you try to prepare yourself for the troubling orgasm you knew he was about to give you.

he forces you back onto the desk, squeezing your throat as he plummets his dick deep inside you as he does so gracefully, other hand keeping your thighs close to him. you let out a loud squeaky moan at the suddenness, head popping back, “jack wait, fuck—wait! ohmygod,” you moan out, at this point he doesn’t care about his firm hearing you, he wants you to feel embarrassed when you walk out passed everyone.

“who? yeah i... dont know who that is.” he tilts his head with faux confusion, brows frowned but his smug smile still remaining. “this what you wanted, right? were’ just begging for it, right?” he says, chuckling to himself, knowing he was bending you out of shape completely.

you couldn’t take the orgasm he was about to give you, you never could, and he knew that. your ears start ringing and your eyes go blurry at the rhythmic motions of his cock kissing deep inside you, pounding that sweet spot.

“daddy— p-papa I can’t do it! s’so much,” you correct yourself with a pout and he plants a reassuring kiss to your handle, his thumb smoothing over your clit to soothe you, only sending you over the edge more. “you got it puppy, cmon I know you can do it. yeah? yeah girl?” he watches your face contort more, toes curling on the side of him as he grins down at you, your display igniting something in him as he keeps up his steady pace.

he winces when throbs inside of you, feeling his release come up on him too. “gonna be my good girl now, huh? who’s gonna act out at my fucking firm?” he slaps your thigh lightly, knowing you were just too out of it and needed a little push. “gonna be so good papa,” you squeal. “never gonna act out again!”

he nods along to your words assuringly, “damn straight, aaaatta girl, cum for me pup. no—cmon you can do it,” he coos to your whining as your breath quickens and the knot in your stomach breaks, whining and moaning out as you cum down on his cock, the familiar white ring forming around the base, making him smile as if he wasn’t already red in the face.

“that’s my fuckin girl, needed that real bad huh.” hes watching his dick disappear into your creamy cunt with dreamy eyes, “I know babygirl I know, daddys not mad at you ok? just had to teach you real good,” his eyes roll back as his head tips back, and you realize you’re gonna have to start wearing turtle necks, he was definitely leaning red marks on you :(

you’re so out of it you don’t even register him cumming in you with a loud curse, to gone to care, knowing he’d fetch you some birth control on the way out. he carries you to the couch in his office before heading to the bathroom in his office, cleaning you and himself up.

you’re laid on your side when he sits next to you, caressing your head and kissing you softly. “feelin good baby?” he asks, taking note of your big foggy eyes and stupid smile. “mhm,” you nod, “good, ready to go to tiffs? get you a new anklet?” he nods, smiling when you nod and raise up happily, his little baby. “that’s my girl, cmon,” he helps you up and into his hand, telling his secretary to clear his afternoon as you walk out behind him, only limping slightly.

──★ ˙ ̟🎀 !!

this got really long, i’m sorry!! I hope you like it and are ready for more longer fics :3

join my taglist! @angelsanarchy @sugarinte @monkeyfart @444rockstargf @bambi-horror @auggiethecreator @wonkinoo @brithedemonspawn @yungbloodsuxca @weezinrnween @bluerthanvelvet444 @nom-nommmm1 @xelam444 @iiheartsai @smuttyslutty666

#josibunn 🎀anon #rory culkin #rory culkin smut #jack thurlow prompt #jack thurlow x reader #jack thurlow smut #jack thurlow #dilf jack :3

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