#it was my father's name day and he invited me over for dinner

[peterthepark]

𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

tags: 18+ very graphic smut, rough van sex, dirty talk, analplay, sub!eddie but also very much switch!eddie, lust at first sight, major mutual pining, a sprinkle of perv!eddie but hes sexy so its okay, (1) guest appearance by dustin, post vol. 2 fix-it fic, 7k filth

summary: she’s the girl next door. eddie is the metalhead freak who’s just barely clearing his name after a whole town fiasco. opposites attract but certainly not like this, and certainly not in the back of eddie’s van.

a/n: pov vol 2 ended on a positive note and eleven miraculously fixed everything so a freshly-graduated eddie can now live his life to the fullest!!!!!!!! aka what should’ve happened… minors dni. not for u.

It’s rare for Eddie Munson to be roaming the white-picket fence suburbs of Hawkins. It feels like a fantasyland — golden retrievers and tabby cats, designated trash days and bright, green grass full of yellow daffodils, oak trees with makeshift swings and wooden playgrounds built by loving fathers. It’s too perfect, too uncanny, and Eddie knows deep down that he doesn��t belong in such a world as nice as this one. 

But the suburbs of Hawkins are also welcoming.

When he gives Dustin a ride from school to home, when the noon is at its peak, golden rays and soft sprinklers making rainbows rise from the soil, he thinks — for a moment or two — that he belongs. He could if he wanted to. When Henderson invites him over for dinner, or when Harrington needs help fixing his car, when Mike needs relationship advice (as if Eddie could know anything about that) and when Robin wants to know more about Iron Maiden to impress the metalhead ladies, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, it isn’t so bad on this side of town.

That is until he saw you. And he realized then why everyone called this part of Hawkins a slice of paradise.

Pretty college student. Cut-off shorts from the Gap paired with baggy baseball tees, and a cute nose always stuffed in a romance novel or — some days — a textbook. Glossy lips, adorable socks and checkered picnic blankets where you’d lay out on the too-pristine yard, kicking your legs back and forth as if acting like eye candy was your specialty. 

The perfect poster girl of Hawkins with just enough rough edges to be labelled the girl next door. 

Only, Eddie doesn’t live next door to you. Dustin does. 

“The least you could tell me is her name, Henderson. I don’t want gas money, I want her name. Spelled out for me, syllable by syllable. Government name.” Eddie rambles, shifting impatiently in the driver’s seat as Dustin leans over the passenger window from the outside. “We’re sitting ducks here, man. What if she sees us spying on her damn fence like some creeps?”

The curly-haired sophomore sighs, fingers strung together as he frowns at his older friend, “You are a grown ass man, Eddie. All you have to do is ask her, just say hi, make an impression or something! You can’t just be looking at her from afar everytime you come over, blasting this Metallica shit…”

“You are on very thin ice, boy.” Eddie wags a finger at him, wide eyes bouncing between Dustin and the front of your house. “I don’t know her like you know her. I don’t wanna be weird, especially after just putting all this town satanic cult bull behind my ass. She might think — dammit, I don’t know… I just wouldn’t wanna scare the girl, okay?” He sucks in a deep breath, shrugging the thought off with a hopeful smile, “Not this time.”

“Disgusting.” 

He snaps his head towards Dustin, reaching over and rustling the cap on his head with a playful smirk. “You’re disgusting, you fuckin’ booger.”

And as if on cue, like every other day he’s been through this neighborhood, Eddie watches your figure emerge from the porch, picnic blanket and weathered paperback in hand. His jaw goes slack at the image of your denim overall-clad frame, nothing but a bikini-like bra underneath the number while a fresh cigarette dangles from your lips. So much skin — the exposed flesh of your neck, the salty beads of sweat rolling down your collarbone, the cherubic glow of your complexion and the alluring blush of your lips as you sit out on the yard. 

Fuck.

A loud boom pulls the metalhead from his trance. Dustin’s palm comes down against the flimsy van door. “Earth to Eddie? Get a grip, you’re drooling.” 

And all he can really say is: “She’s so damn pretty.”

Maybe he’s overreacting. Maybe he’s just really that in-deep with a girl who he has never, ever spoken to. Maybe he’s a pervert rather than a misunderstood freak and this is all just completely wrong of him. But, god, it feels so right to stare. Eddie can’t help it, especially once you catch sight of Dustin and send him an adorable little wave — then your eyes flicker over to Eddie’s dumbfounded expression inside the van, where you wave at him too. 

And the twenty one year-old swears he dies. Right at that moment. His heart skips several beats all at once, possibly even flatlining as a small smile falls upon your graceful features, bursting right out of his chest even as you look away and immediately redirect your attention to the walkman in your pocket like you hadn’t just casually murdered him alive. 

Fuck me, he thinks.

The next time Eddie sees you, he gets a little more than a wave. He’s reveling in this newfound attention as he bounces down the steps of Dustin’s porch and catches sight of you on the other side of the fence, already staring his way before he sends you a nerdy two-finger salute with a close-lipped smile. And just before he reaches the sidewalk, your sweet voice stops him in his determined tracks. 

“Metallica at three p.m. in this neighborhood is a death wish, you know.” 

Eddie turns slowly on his heels, shoes facing you before his whole body follows hesitantly. He’s trying to wipe off that stupid expression on his face, lips parted into a skinny ‘O’ that makes him look like a fish out of water as you finally make eye contact. He heats up immediately from the inside, belly churning and throat tightening when you give him a once over. And it seems like you don’t exactly care for subtlety either — blown pupils raking over his tattooed arms, taking in the torn rips of his shirt-turned-tank-top and the tanlines just above his elbows. 

He hopes you think that the scars on his body are just as badass (if not, more) than his tats. 

Say something. “Didn’t know music was on a schedule.” Eddie manages to follow along with a shrug, lips tugging to the side nervously.

In response, you smile. You fucking smile as if he hadn’t just said the most stupid response ever. It’s gentle, airy, almost effortless as crescent-like lines shape your warm cheeks and you cup a hand over your eyes, adorably squinting through the bright sunlight. “Oh, believe me, I had Iron Maiden on blast one time and ever since then, the whole block has been thinking I’m some sort of cult apologist.”

His heart grows like a balloon filling with helium, voice even going so far to climb several octaves of excitement as his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “You… you listen to that kind of stuff?”

You play with the lacy strap of your top. You’re beaming widely at him from the other side of the fence. “Do you judge books by their covers, mister?”

“No, ma’am.” Eddie swipes the glistening pad of his thumb across his bottom lip, stifling the grin that threatens to spread across his mouth. Sheepish, he shakes his head. “I think I underestimated you then. I’m… I’m sorry I…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m kidding. Seriously though, I have a bunch of mixtapes back in my room. Ozzy, Dio, some Sabbath. No one really gets it, but you… you seem like you do.”

And Eddie wonders: could you get any more damn perfect? The suburban denim dream, the girl next door, the quintessential concoction of every teenage boy’s fantasy and every teenage girl’s desire… listens to metal music? And not just AC/DC or KISS (because everyone loves those guys), but the same music he’s grown up with and loved? 

He can’t help but picture you in your bed, records spread out across your comforter as you switch between Dream Evil and Peace of Mind. Your limbs stretched out on the mattress, shirt riding up with nothing but black panties underneath as you rock out to his favorites. 

Yeah. He’ll think about that one a lot.

“I definitely get it. I do, I really do. I love metal.” Eddie rambles, hoping to keep your attention by stalling this conversation as much as possible. You nod at him with those big, innocent eyes and roll your fleshy lip between your teeth, keen to every stupid word that falls from his tongue. “But hey, it can be our little secret, then.” He leisurely gravitates towards the van while you match his strides, taking note of his quavering pitch and the use of Eddie’s own hands waving through the air wildly as he attempts to withhold his nervousness. “And again, just for peace of mind, I didn’t mean to judge. I figured…”

“Madonna?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He chuckles. Feels the anxiety in his stomach build even more. “Nothin’ wrong with Madonna, though. Sexy tunes. Can’t deny that.”

Sexy tunes. Come on, Munson.

But that draws a giggle right out of you, “Sexy tunes, indeed.” Then, you’re both leaning against the side of his van. No fence or Dustin coming between the two of you, just your sweaty bodies and Hawkins’ summer heat seeping through your thin clothes. You hold your palm out, fingers welcomingly outstretched. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” 

Eddie’s gaze bounces from your smaller hand to the doting expression on your face before gingerly enveloping it in his own. “Eddie. Edward. E-Eddie. You can…” You give him a gentle squeeze, a sure smile dusting over your lips. “You can just call me Eddie, or whatever. Whatever you want, Y/N.”

“Well,” You laugh again, and Eddie blushes profusely at the lighthearted noise. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Whatever.” You share another one of those looks, and he swears that this time — this time, your eyes do all the talking that needs to be done. “I think we’ll get along really well… Eddie.”

His name has never sounded so perfect out loud.

Eddie sees you again. 

And again. Every time he drops Dustin off. Again. Leant against the side of his van. Talking and talking, until there’s nothing to talk about — but it’s rare. He always has something to talk about, even when his voice fails him and he stutters or stumbles over syllables because you’re so fucking pretty and he’s… he’s just Eddie. But you see him differently than the others, so he supposes that maybe being “just Eddie” isn’t such an awful thing after all. 

Again, you talk. The sidewalk. Along the road. On your lawn. Sometimes, Eddie will even join you on your blanket, skim through your books and take note of what you read, then he’ll recommend “true” literature like Lord of the Rings or something else with elves and witches. 

Summer has never felt so long. 

Again.

Until again becomes every afternoon. Even on the days Dustin doesn’t need a ride home anymore. Even on the days he has to practice with his band at four, but he can always just come see you at three and drive back because it’s no big deal. Even on the days your parents say you need to stop talking to that Munson boy because he’s no good, but who fucking cares? 

Again, anyways.

You’re not scared of him. He’s not scary. He never was.

And so afternoons turn into nights. And nights consist of sneaking out to Eddie’s van that he’s parked a few houses down the street, because God forbid he talks to the innocent girl next door. Innocent is one fat hoax. You’re smoking pot with him in the back of his fucking van for Ozzy’s sake, giggly and unrelenting as you sit next to each other and drench yourselves in the scent of weed and Eddie’s drugstore cologne while Metallica plays faintly in the background.

He’s all man, but soft with his eyes. Soft in the way he looks at you. Crude in the way he secretly desires you. Now that he knows you, really knows you, you aren’t just beautiful. 

You’re completely devastating. 

You take a long drag of his joint, wincing as the paper sizzles and burns orange. “Fuck, I wish I tried getting high sooner. You’re a horrible influence, you know that?”

Eddie hums with a toothy grin, fiddling with the pair of flimsy headphones in his lap. “And yet you still meet me back here every night.”

“Why do I even do that?” 

“Um, ‘cause I got, like, really fucking good ‘A’ quality weed and impeccable taste in music.” He shrugs nonchalantly, eyes following the mold of your lips around the bud. “Easy there, tigress. Don’t hog it.”

“You said…”

“I said, you could have one hit. And now, I’m confiscating it.”

You groan in protest as Eddie leans over to your side of the van and snatches the blunt from you, tossing it into a mushroom shaped ashtray as he gazes at you curiously. “Since when did you become so mean to me?”

“Weed is meant to be treasured, Y/N. And plus, I’m always mean.”

He has to admit — there has been tension between the two of you ever since your afternoon catch-ups turned into late night talking. Maybe he’s imagining it, but surely you feel it too. The bubbling in his stomach when your elbows brush in such a confined space. The heat rushing to his cheeks when you laugh and place a hand on his thigh, or the dizzy rush flooding your forehead when he picks a flyaway strand of hair off of your shoulder. The increase in your heartbeats as you stare at each other for a minute too long, even sneaking in a second glance because you just have to. 

“You know what you should treasure?” You quirk a brow at him. A smirk tugs upon your lips as you dig through your pocket and pull out a cassette tape, shaking it in front of Eddie’s face. “This week’s mix I made you.”

“My mix is better.” He flicks his walkman open, switching out the tape inside for the one you hand him. “Here’s yours, ma’am.”

And he supposes that no one really expected that his friendship with the girl next door would be founded on trading music with each other. Ever since you and Eddie found out your tastes were in alignment, you made it a goal to introduce new songs to him — Madonna included. Sexy tunes. 

You think he could get used to the oddity of The Cure. He thinks he can convince you that Guns N’ Roses will eventually be a rock sensation. You’re skeptical. Maybe.

So you marinate in each other’s stagnant presence, leaning on opposite walls of his metal tin can of a van, holding your own walkmans with ears caressed by Koss headphones and lids shut as your heads bob to the acoustics. Eddie can’t help but crack an eye open, sneaking a peek at your chewed lip and your look of concentration. 

“I like this one.” You pipe up, feeling his stare on you. He glances away before you can actually catch him, training his gaze on the mess of blankets behind the driver’s seat. “You know, your choices this week are very interesting, Munson.”

Suggestive. His choices are suggestive, is what you’re thinking. From the first to the last track, the list of songs messily etched onto the cassette with the most boyish handwriting you’d ever seen, you can only hope that the metalhead holds some sort of attraction for you in the same manner you do for him. 

Eddie chuckles, and winces apologetically at you. “I still hate The Cure, by the way.”

You nod unconvinced, and pull one of the cups of your headphones away from your ear. There’s a smile of amusement, an interested dimple in your cheek. “And yet you included The Perfect Girl on here?” 

“Only because it made me think of you.”

For once, he realizes that he has flustered you. Your jaw goes slack, your pupils widen, brows softening before your nose crinkles at him. “Shut up, Eddie.”

His palms raise in a peaceful surrender, ringed fingers wiggling adorably. “You asked, Y/N.” A beat. Then you’re playfully throwing a jacket at his face and squealing before he instinctively lunges forward at you, gentle hands pulling you back by the elbows. Despite the struggle, eventually he’s pinned to the floor of the van and you’re on top of him straddling his soft belly. “Get off, you monster!” He near-giggles, sputtering as his hair gets into his mouth and he feels your body racking with laughter. 

“You’re so rude to me. Like the rudest. When has The Cure ever hurt you?” You pant out, chest rising and falling steadily as you both catch your breath. Eddie’s headphones haphazardly hug his head, walkman in the palm that rests above him. “Do you treat your girlfriend this way, hm?”

“No girlfriend.” 

“Oh?” 

“Mmm, I thought it was obvious.” He replies quietly, the sound comes out more like a soft moan rather than an agreement. His plushy lips are wet with saliva, tongue poking between the pink flesh as his eyes flicker from your parting mouth to your curious, swirling irises. “S’why I’m here with you.”

“So I’m the second choice is what you’re…”

“Please, you are farthest from the second choice, sweetheart.” Eddie laughs, ribs rumbling against his torso. Only then does he become hyper aware of the way your breasts push up against his shirt, the warmth of your skin intermixing with his, your nipples hardening against the thin white fabric of your camisole. Sweetheart, you repeat. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. Sweetheart. “Do you have one?”

“A girlfriend?” You ask, tone playful and curious.

Careless Whisper echoes through his headphones; your mixtape is still looping through his walkman as you trail your fingers down his wrists and brace yourself on his chest. 

Fucking hell. It’s ironic. It’s pathetic. George Michael needs to shut up. Why is this damned song on here? He’s struggling to think, struggling to focus on the words coming from your mouth, struggling to keep it in his pants because you keep shifting farther and farther away from his stomach, and more and more towards his crotch. Focus. Tune out that stupid saxophone.

“Sure.” He shrugs breathlessly, tingling with anticipation. 

“Nope.”

“Boyfriend?”

“Not yet, no. Why is this a conversation, Eddie?” You bite your lip cheekily, knees planted firmly on either side of his lean body when you gaze down at him then survey the still-lit joint resting on his ashtray. Silence, then: “Can I have a hit? Please?”

Eddie glances at your lips, fixating on how your tongue darts out to lick at the sticky gloss. The moonlight casts a glow over your frame, highlighting the path of your curves through your tank top. And without really taking his eyes off of your beautiful face, his fingers reach for the blunt, a blush spreading across his chiseled cheeks when your hand brushes against his to grab it. 

Please.

A sizzle rustles through the heavy air as you take a slow drag.

And Eddie can’t help himself. Not this time.

“You’re so pretty, you know that?”

You’re slowly tossing the perfectly-good blunt aside, leaning down and lazily grabbing Eddie gingerly by his chin. 

He thinks you’re gonna kiss him.

And before he can lift his head to meet you, instead, you’re blowing a puff of smoke between his parted lips with an exhale. “Fuck… ing… heck…” He instantly groans, eyelids drooping as your ass pushes against him teasingly like you hadn’t just shotgunned into his goddamn mouth. Party trick. You flutter your lashes bashfully, dimples poking at your cheeks as Eddie gapes at you just inches away from your face. “Y/N, where the fuck did you… learn that?”

You sigh. “Eddie Munson, you just keep on underestimating me.” 

“I really do, I really fucking do…” He huffs, knuckles turning white around his walkman as you sensually tug his headphones off. “I just — just thought you were…”

“Innocent? Oblivious? I may be your girl next door fantasy… or whatever the fuck you Hawkins boys think about me…” You smirk, taking Eddie’s much-larger hands into yours and placing them firmly on your hips. “… but I am not fucking blind… you’ve been acting so off this entire night, must need something to take the edge off, don’t you?”

Fucking Ozzy. He can’t take it. His lips tug into a wince. “That easy, huh?”

Red-handed, you coo. “The easiest.”

“So technically you’re calling me easy, then?” Eddie jokes, heart pounding against his chest as he tenderly digs his fingertips into your love handles.

This is what he’s wanted. This is it. 

And it’s not a fucking dream at all. It’s absolutely heaven. 

Just like heaven.

“Eh, I think it’s endearing. The way you…” He curses under his breath as you lean over and trail your mouth up his jawline, biting his earlobe. “… savor me… savor looking at me. The way you think I don’t notice your stare, when your eyes wander a couple inches down whenever I talk? Oh, you think you’re so slick. I’m not naïve. Why do you think we hang out in your van at night?”

He shudders when your teeth find the cool surface of the guitar pick around his neck. “You’re evil, sweetheart.”

“And you’re horny, but maybe I shouldn’t talk about that.”

“No, definitely…” Eddie laughs nervously, swallowing as he looks down at you. “Definitely not. I’m… fuck, I’m fine. I’m good.”

“Or, maybe I should.” Back and forth banter. It’s natural with you. Too natural, almost like it has always meant to be like this between the eager pair of you. You don’t kiss him, not yet. He can wait. “Acting like a gentleman, like my friend, when in reality you can’t help but think of banging me everytime we see each other?”

“M’sorry, okay? We are friends — fuck, Y/N. Can’t focus… can’t exactly t-talk when you’re on my lap like that.”

Heat pools to his lower stomach, breaths quickening as his hands mindlessly drift down to your upper thighs, squeezing your skin through your little shorts when you grind against him. “Like this? How does it feel? Touching me, feeling me on you like this?”

Eddie’s eyes are dark, almost black in the dim shadows of his van. He looks up at you with the most dilated, entranced look, and you swear it almost makes you break. “Feels… feels so nice. Warm. I just… fuck, I don’t… don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna do… Y/N, goddamnit…”

“I think it’s both clear what we want, no?” You press a kiss to his cheek, running your thumb along the skin beneath his lower lashes. His self-control is slowly diminishing, inch by inch, he feels himself melting in your presence. “I stare, too, just so you know. I stare a lot.”

“Yeah?” Eddie lifts a shaky hand, nervously cupping your jaw and nudging his nose against yours. His voice ghosts your skin, raspy and more of a whimper than a command. “Tell me about it.”

Your mouth hovers over his, lips barely brushing against each other. Touching, touching, touching, only to pull away at the very last second. He can almost just taste the marijuana from your tongue, almost taste the honey dripping from your voice as you peck the corner of his lips. Almost. “I look at your arms, and your really cool tattoos, then I picture… where else you have them on your body…” You gasp into his ear as his hips rut into you, his fingers drawing shapes against the side of your face. “Picture your lips on my chest… kissing me, leaving marks… bruises, hickies, whatever you want, Munson. Your mouth between my — my thighs… tugging on your hair because you’d be so good to me, wouldn’t you?”

“M’want you so bad. You don’t know the half of it.” He whispers, stroking a knuckle across the shadow of your cupid’s bow. “Please… let me… fuck, let me kiss you. Please, Y/N. Want it so bad. Been wanting you ever since summer started. Makin’ me crazy, got me feeling like I’m insane with the way I just… just obsess over us.”

He’s earned it. 

“Like I said, whatever you want.” You grin devilishly.

Eddie’s lips finally collide with yours, erotically wet and far from smooth. It’s incongruous, sweaty skin rubbing against each other and clothes rustling as Eddie sits up, your arms swaddling his lanky frame while you crane your neck to kiss him deeply. His hair is in your mouth, his nose smushed against the side of your face, strained groans slipping from his throat as he traverses down your neck, selfishly licking the divot of your collarbone before his palms are venturing under your camisole. 

“You’re so fucking hot.” He whines, lashes fluttering against your thin bra as he pulls your top over your head. He’s mouthing at the cups, biting at the stringy lace of your push-up before he’s tugging the material down to reveal your nipples. “I just… fuck, I’m just in awe of you. You’re the perfect girl, and I get to have you.” He wraps his lips around the hardened bud, moaning as he alternates between the two and litters your flesh in dark hickies. You fist his hair, caving into his frame. “You’re so sexy. Just… fucking… took the words out of me, leavin’ me speechless… I’ll make you feel so f-fucking good if you let me.”

Your head rolls back as he kisses up the underside of your chin, meeting your lips in a more tender kiss. Your nails trail underneath his Iron Maiden ringer tee, lightly tracing over the raised scars on his abdomen, his belly, skimming over his sparse happy trail and the subtlety of his v-line. “You’re all talk, Eddie… wanna make me feel good?” He nods meekly, the veins in his neck flexing as you stroke his brow bone. “Think you should start by undressing me…”

“Christ, please.”

And without a beat, Eddie’s reaching around you to unclasp your bra, tossing it aside so that it lands over the back of the driver’s seat. He kisses his way down your belly, the little pudge when you sit, only for him to lay you down on your back, clumping up a bunch of jackets to make a pillow for your head. His fingers unbutton your shorts, tugging them down the length of your legs with your panties until they get caught on your Chucks. 

He takes those off too. Quite frankly, chucks the Chucks across the van with a squeaky mutter of ‘goddamn shoes…’  before he’s pocketing a lineup of chunky rings into his jeans.

Eddie’s mouth makes up for the dorky mishap, his lips make haste against your tender calves, biting the squish of your thighs and nudging his nose against the glossy patches of arousal on the inside of your skin. He inhales the scent of your cunt, and you jerk with a moan of surprise as he kisses you there, open and fluttering for him while he lays on his stomach.

He’s never seen such a pretty pussy. It emboldens him, leaves him brazen and aching for more even though it’s the first time he’s ever seen you this naked. Even though he’s barely even had you, he still needs more.

“Need you so bad it hurts.” Eddie growls, looking up at you with a smirk as you gnaw on your bottom lip. “You’re just… fuck, how did you get this wet? God, you’re unreal, baby… let me? Please? Let me… let me eat it… I’ll do anything…”

Let me. Let me. Let me. It’s his mantra. You’d be lying if you deny that it stirs something animalistic within you.

You nod violently, biting down on your forefinger as he props you up against the wall of the van and parts your knees even further before he’s shoving his face into you. Your hands dart straight into his curls again, pulling and tugging until you’re holding him by a wiry ponytail, watching the eager way he suckles at the bundle of nerves just at the apex of your sex. 

Eddie feels like a fucking virgin. Desperate. Impatient. Aggressive. He’s too excited — it displays itself when he slips two digits into your needy slit, taking in how you instantly buck against him. You need him. Need him in the same manner he needs this. His ego fires up as he drives his fingers further, running his tongue over and back and down your clit until your grip on his hair becomes suffocating.

“Having fun down there, h-hm?” You croak. Even with his head buried between your thighs, you’re mischievous, challenging, witty. He’d fuck the brains out of you if he could, but honestly, he isn’t even sure if he could survive one second with his cock in your little fist. “Fuckkk. You’re makin’ me feel so good, Eds…” Your head hits the metal wall, a soft bang that goes unnoticed with all the squelching and creaming as Eddie scissors his fingers. 

“You’re so perfect. You’re so perfect, I love the way you look right now, s’fucking hot… could cum just by watching you.”

“Yeah? Just wait — just fucking wait till I suck you off.”

Eddie can’t wrap his thoughts around it. His tongue, his hands, where he’s buried inside you. He’s wanted this, ever since the start of summer, and he’s here with the girl he thought was untouchable — the perfect girl with a perfect, filthy secret that is him. 

You’re grinding your mound against his mouth, quivering jaw unhinged in the darkness of his large van. His eyes flicker up to your tits, slick with his spit and your own as a dribble of saliva falls from your lips, tainting your skin. 

For once, you aren’t put-together. He’s ripping your façade apart at the seams and leaving nothing to sew back.

“You’re a fucking mess, Y/N… oh, I do this to you?” He’s touching you till you’re vibrating and mewling. He’s lapping every drop of you up, tasting you permanently on his lips as he prods at your clit. “Fuck, honey…” Eddie bites you, hard enough to nurse a bruise on the inside of your thigh. “Please cum for me, yeah? Jus’ look how wet I’ve gotten you, sweetheart… you’re practically — oh, my god… you’re practically gaping… you wanna cum that bad?”

You really can’t help it. Not when he’s cooing at you with that whiny voice, teasing and suggestive as your cunt spasms over his pink knuckles. Your hips rise from the carpet flooring, and Eddie leaves another bite-mark on your stomach as slick trickles out of you. You don’t moan. You don’t scream, nor cry. Just a broken whimper and a restrained, quiet utterance of Eddie’s name beneath your breath. 

Somehow, it makes his cock pulse even harder.

He gently kisses your cunt, running a soothing tongue over the bruises he’s left and the dip in where your hip meets your thigh. “Fuck, that was hot.” He smells the aftermath of your orgasm, really smelling you this time, and it ends up driving him nuts. “Oh, Y/N… your pussy…” You follow his gaze, letting out a lewd sound as Eddie admires the puffiness of your folds, swollen and open from his work. You jolt as soon as he tries to spread you. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so sorry, d-didn’t mean to get so damn rough with you. You tasted so fucking nice, s’all.”

“No, I…” You brush his hair away from his face, pushing his bangs aside as he sits up and wedges himself between your knees. “I love rough. I can take it. I can take this.” Your other hand palms him through his jeans, before you’re dipping yourself beneath his waistband, hairs prickling at your skin as you grasp him. “Do you want me to be rough with you, Eds? Because I just… I really, really want your cock, and I… I dunno if I can hold myself back…”

“Oh, you little slut.” He gasps brazenly as you pull his shirt off, eyes wide at your sudden conviction for him, “Take it. Take me, Y/N. I’m all yours, whatever you fucking want.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

You smirk, helping him kick off his jeans and boxers. Your cunt pathetically gapes for him once he’s bare, contracting around nothingness as Eddie takes your place against the wall. He leans back, and you just stare — drinking him in the same way he drinks you in. Your puffy nipples, still damp from his spit, your darkened neck a testament to his artistry, your mouth parting in awe as you fit his erect cock into your hand. Barely.

He’s big — lengthwise, and it curves heavily in your grasp as you lean down to pop him between your lips. Eddie nearly knees you, palms flying to cover his face as he desperately cries your name. “Y/N… oh, f-fucking… oh, Jesus…” You rake your nails up and down his thighs, licking a stripe up his manhood as you play with his sopping tip.

You chuckle in amusement around him, “Such a leaky cock. You like that, Eds? Mmm, you messy boy. All this pre-cum and I’ve… aw, I’ve barely touched you. Tell me what feels good, ‘kay?”

“S’all of it… all of it is — it’s good… fuck, words are so… words…” He melts even more as you sheathe him into your mouth, stuttering as he feels you hold back a gag. Your whole body convulses, back arching upwards as Eddie watches you take and take and take. “Oh, Y-Y/N… you just keep — keep getting better and better. Holy shit.” His belly aches with desire, tightening with each bob of your head and every seductive blink of your eyes. “You’re gorgeous. Thought about you.. whenever you’d — mmm, whenever you’d lay out on that darn lawn, what if I took you right there? What if I just… fucked you on that grass…”

“You and your dirty mouth, Munson.” You glare up at him in feigned annoyance, jerking his shaft with fast, purposeful movements. “I think it’s funny… how you pretend like you’re such a nice guy when really, you’re only a perv for me.”

“So what? Are you gonna punish me?” He challenges beadily, tongue poking out between gritted teeth like he could win this fight. “Or are you gonna fuck me, pretty girl?”

And just like that, the air changes. He feels the shift, the veil that falls over your eyes, nothing but sex and his scent running in your mind.

“No, Eds.” You move to straddle his thigh; your bare cunt dragging against his scarred skin. “I’m gonna make you beg.” 

You take him into your fist again, stroking him between the generous suction of your lips and the sweep of your tongue. He tastes good to your surprise, and then you’re creating a pool of spit that trickles from his abdomen to his balls. 

Messy girl. “Christ, Y/N.”

You release him with an erotic pop! — there’s stringy saliva connecting you to the crown of his cock, your throat is raw, his dick impatient, twitchy and excited. “You wanna fuck me so bad, you can’t even think straight. Look at my hand right now, look how tiny it looks when I hold you…” You grind yourself against his knee, groaning with him as you quicken your pace. Your brows furrow, a wicked grin ghosting itself over your features. “Baby, are you going to cum already?”

“Y/N, don’t s-stop. I’m beggin’ you, please…”

“Oh, you’re begging? This is what you call begging?”

“Please, s’too hard.”

“Too hard? What’s too hard? Me not letting you cum, or…” You give him one good jerk, twisting your fist so that your thumb brushes over his white-coated tip. “… your cock? Because you’re awfully, awfully rock hard right now. I bet it hurts doesn’t it, my love?” My love. His eyes gloss over. Your mouth hugs the shell of his ear. “You wanna cum?”

“Y-Yes…” He near-whimpers. Desperate. “Wanna cum so badly.”

“No.”

You release him for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. His climax dwindles back to square one, and his leg thrashes out in dismay. There’s sweat beading down your forehead, drops forming on Eddie’s brow bone as he scowls at you. 

You kiss him, almost like an apology, but Eddie can tell you’re not sorry. Far from it. You enjoy this, enjoy getting him off just to start over and make him beg. Is it so sick that he likes it? The more you stretch this interaction out, the more he gets to touch you. Like now, as you swing your knees on either side of him, his palm gingerly clasping the nape of your neck as he presses your face to his.  

“Let me fuck you? Let me be inside?” He pleads, nudging his nose against yours in anguished yearning. He drags his hand over your cheek, enveloping your jaw with outstretched fingers. “Just wanna bury myself inside you and stay there. Don’t even wanna cum anymore, I promise. I promise I’ll fuck you so good, m’not pathetic like the other guys… wanna feel you jus’ dripping on me, Y/N.”

You don’t answer, just gasp into his parted mouth as you line each other up. The angry head of his cock catches on your swell, snagging your clit before his tip lodges itself inside you and he — quite literally — goes rigid. You curse, slowly sinking down his length until your pussy refuses to take more. 

“You’re s-so big.”

Eddie feels like he’s going to fucking burst. “Sweetheart,” He pants, panicked and frenzied as you squeeze around him. Your head lolls onto his shoulder, arms thrown around his body as he tangles his slender fingers into your scalp and pulls you impossibly closer to his chest. “Sweetheart, I can feel every p-part of you… you’re so — fuck, just like that, you wet messy thing.” He whines, the curve of your ass coming down against his lap as you keenly bounce on his cock. He meets you with gentle thrusts, your cunt already milking him thin. “Look at you, fuck, you’re loving this.”

“E-Eddie…” Your tits are squished against his pecs, his necklace sandwiching itself between your damp skin. “More. More. Give it…”

“You can’t take it, baby. I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“I can take it. I can. It’s not enough, I’m telling you.” You rut your hips stubbornly, guiding his palms to your waist before he’s carefully rolling you onto your side and hiking your calf over the tender slope of his shoulder. “S’not nearly enough, Eds.”

“Okay.” He breathes out, inhaling deeply as he slips himself deeper inside you. The stretch stings harshly, flashes of white prickling at the cones of your vision as he splits you raw and wide open. “Is this enough? You fuckin’… god, you perfect whore…” Your spine tingles as Eddie tugs you closer by the hip, ramming himself into you relentlessly. “… such perfect tits, a perfect leaky cunt…” He presses a kiss to your ankle, before flipping you onto your knees so that he can fuck you from behind. He wants to see you, see you flutter for him, feed his sick thoughts and relive the nights where he jerked himself off in this very van in empty parking lots to the idea of you. “… and this perfect ass… another hole waiting to be used, right, Y/N? You’d let me use it, wouldn’t you? If I’m nice enough, I bet you’d let me fuck it…”

Fucking hell.

You cum as soon as he dips the pad of his thumb against the responsive ring of muscle. You both grow feral at the sensation. Soaked. Pussy chafed raw from his cock. You can’t tell whose fluids are whose, if it’s Eddie’s spit or yours, if it’s your juices or his — the embarrassing manner in which your cunt just sucks him in, the tight walls of your ass fluttering around his gentle finger as he drives into you.

How is the van still upright? Eddie doesn’t know. 

He’s an Ozzy clusterfuck of strangled, broken sounds and you’re a broken record player of Eddie-Eddie-Eds-Please, I’m cumming!

He doesn’t stop. Even when you’re shaking and bent-half in now missionary, he sheathes himself inside you till his pelvic bone is crushed to your body. “You feel so good, I’m sorry… I can’t — can’t stop, baby…”

“Don’t. Don’t stop, it’s a-alright.” You heave out, interlocking fingers as his glistening cock disappears into your used cunt. “It’s a l-lot, but it’s okay.” Eddie’s body engulfs you, your heels digging into the dimples in his lower back as he pounds into you. “You’re such a good — good boy, fuck…”

“Yeah?” He bites your throat. “Say.” The under-swell of your boob. “It.” Your arm. “Again.”

“Good boy. Such a good boy, fucking me the way I deserve.”

“Fucking you like you’re a slut.”

“Fucking me like I’m not the girl next door…” You chuckle, breathy and airy before he knocks the wind right out of you. “The whole town is gonna call me a w-whore for once.”

“Suits you better.”

You swear your soul leaves your body. You’re dying. You are dead, nearly limp in his fumbling boyish hands as he cradles your head against his chest and wipes the sweat from your eyes like he loves you. His balls slap against your loosened rim, his thumb putting pressure on your clit until you’re frantically pushing him away. 

“I can’t cum again. I can’t.” You sob in pleasure, clawing at his tattoos as if they could save you from his insatiable hunger. “Eddie!”

“Need it, need your cum again, Y/N.” Eddie growls, thrusts stuttering and cock pulsating wildly before he’s spitting onto your sex as if you needed to be any more wet. “I-I think you’re so… so fucking cool, you’re just… you’re too good for me, but I fucking adore you.”

I adore you.

I adore you.

You can’t even talk anymore, vocal chords ripped right out of your throat as your stomach cramps, cramps, cramps and then drops to a low point. Crashing. Flatlining. Clenching hopelessly.

You nearly choke Eddie as a hand flies out to touch him, pulling him close as your walls trap him for a second time. Only now, he’s locked in tight, unable to move, unable to go anywhere and he fucking cums immediately because it’s just too inviting. You feel him seeping out of you, painting your holes with his sticky cum as he stills there like a good boy. He grunts against your lips, kissing you poorly as his orgasm eats him alive. 

He’s milked. Spent. 

Eddie collapses on top of you, one leg jutted straight and the other bent as he embraces you close with his whole weight resting on your frame. How can he already miss something he just had? Gaining your strength, you kiss down his shoulder, fingertips swirling over muscle and scar tissue and ink as the smell of him floors you.

It’s so Eddie. Woody, earthy, with a spicy fresh top note reminiscent of oak moss and a hint of gasoline, dry cedar and herbs. It makes you dizzy in the best way possible. He’s drenched in the girlish smell of sex, sweat and salty but you’re eager to taste him anyways.

My good boy, you think. 

“Are you okay?” Your voice comes out raspy and winded, almost sickly but Eddie knows it's a good-sick. 

“Yes, yeah. I just… need a sec.”

“Hm, don’t take too long, Munson.” Shit. Is this over already? Just like that? “Might get wet again.”

Oh. It’s a joke. 

And he laughs, wheezy and exhausted as he irritatedly tugs his own hair out of his mouth. “You’re gonna be the death of me, ma’am.” He leans back on his hinges to properly look at you, your cheeks rubbed red-raw from his teeth and your abused, achy cunt still stuffed full of his prick. “Are you okay?”

“I’m alive.”

“Barely.”

“Barely.” You repeat heartily, shaking your head at him with a look of bewilderment. “S’gonna hurt when you pull out, you know.”

“Are you telling me to stay here forever?”

“If you admit that you like The Cure, then yes…” You bite your lip, drumming your fingers against his wrist. “… I’ll let you stay there forever.”

Forever. You both push down the giddy, cheesy smiles that threaten to spread across your faces. 

“Never. Never ever.” Eddie chuckles. When he tenderly and patiently pulls out, a wet rush slowly floods out of you, his fingers frantically plug you shut — his thick, translucent cum dripping from his knuckles as he selfishly fucks his hot spill back into you like the perv he is. “But that can stay there forever.”

A freak, but not in the way Hawkins thinks.

You melt at the feeling, limbs spasming awkwardly as he spreads himself over your pussy distractedly. His eyes are so goddamn soft, kind, attentive — even when he’s pushing some of it into your poor asshole, he’s still the sweetest guy you’ve ever hooked up with. 

He kisses your clit before he lovingly hikes your panties up your legs. 

Fucker.

“Did I ruin you, sweetheart? Awfully quiet.”

You scoff, shimmying into your shorts and camisole as Eddie tucks himself back into his boxers. “Just wondering how you expect me to climb back into my window after all that.”

“Who said anything about climbing…” He laughs boisterously, leaning over and fixing the strap of your bra. “What do you say I walk you to the porch, ring that bell and introduce myself to mom and pop?”

You stare at him like he’s crazy.

“Absolutely not, Eddie Munson.”

He finds himself liking the suburbs a lot more.

Only this time, he doesn’t imagine himself surrounded by picket fences and golden retrievers, mailboxes with his last name painted in unreadable cursive or having to mow his front lawn at seven in the fucking morning. 

Eddie doesn’t need to when Hawkins’ slice of paradise is just next door. 

And he gets to taste it every fucking day and night. 

So, fuck it. He’ll climb your window so you don’t have to wobble back to your house with his cum dripping down your leg. He’s a gentleman, railing you in the abandoned parking lot of Starcourt because you can’t handle the embarrassment of getting caught by someone at home. He’ll cover your mouth in the shed in your backyard so the neighbors don’t complain about the howling coyotes that have gone loose in the neighborhood. 

God forbid they have coyotes, right? 

But really, they should be worrying about the devastatingly gorgeous girl next door and her favorite, good boy with a dwindling hatred for The Cure.

Even though, the album is growing on him.

He’ll never admit that, though.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fluff #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things season 4

[number1jeonginstan]

Always been there 🏡

pairing: the boy next door!Chan x afab!reader

warnings: alcohol, swearing, kissing, smut, some fluff too!

word count: 7.1k (wow.)

18+ Minors DNI

A/N: This took so long to get out, and I'm still not confident in it, I feel like it's kinda lame ngl. I don't know, I just feel like my writing hasn't been improving, but I can't expect to be a god-send after only writing for 4 months... Thank you so much for @quokkawritesarchive for looking at my draft for this, I truly appreciate it <3 I hope you guys like it!

smut warnings below the cut:

smut warnings: unprotected sex (please don't!), fingering, oral (fem receiving), consensual kissing, some nipple play, slight edging, male masturbation, cumming inside

You and Chris have been friends since you both were 5 and you moved into his neighborhood. Their parents had slowly become close friends with yours and invited your family over to their house for dinner. That was the first time you had ever met Chris.

You were hidden behind your parents, too scared to say anything. In front of you was a boy wearing a striped shirt and a grin. He ran up to you “Hi! My name is Chan” he grinned at you. Your parents forced you to say hi back, which you reluctantly did.

“Hi,” you said, still a bit scared. “What’s your name?” he asked, still excited. “It’s y/n” you whispered, still a bit afraid of him. “That’s such a pretty name!” he grinned at you. 

Since they, you both were inseparable. Your parents thought it was cute, the both of you being so inseparable. When you guys were younger, you would have sleepovers in each other’s rooms. Your favorite one was when you both created a fort in your room and had Tim Tam slams, causing a mess all over the blankets, but it was so worth it.

As time went on, your parents didn’t let you have sleepovers, so instead you two bought walkie-talkies. Since both of your windows faced each other, whenever you wanted to talk, you would just flash a flashlight through the other’s window to signal each other to turn on their walkie-talkies. Your parents thought it was adorable, but you guys felt like spies on an undercover mission. 

As you guys ventured onto middle school, Chan was participating a lot in swimming, wanting to fill in his father’s footsteps while you really got into art and painting. While he was always in the pool, you were always in your art studio working with different mediums trying to make something new. 

You remember one specific day that you started working with clay, wanting to make a little wolf, because Chris reminded you of one, and he had come into the art room after swim practice. 

“You are dripping wet” you groaned as Chan shook his head, causing water to spray everywhere. “You are no better than a wet dog.” you groaned, trying to hide your clay figure from his prying eyes. 

“What’s up?” you asked him, taking a bit of the fruit that you had laid out while working. He stole a grape, popping it into his mouth. “I think I want to start pursuing music,” he said with an affirmative smile.

“That’s great Chan, I’m so excited for you!” you gleaned. “Yeah, I started picking up the guitar and vocal lessons, it’s been fun.” 

“Channie, I’m so happy for you! Don’t forget about me when you get famous” you giggled. He ran over to you, trying to hug you. “I swear to god, you are still soaking wet, you are not about to hug me, or so help me.” 

That didn’t stop him, he gave you a big squeeze, making your clothes damp and smell like chlorine. You felt the need to retaliate, throwing paint at him. It caused a game of cat and mouse to occur, you both chasing each other, until your art teacher came in putting an end to it. She yelled at both of you for acting so childish, but as soon as she left, the both of you erupted in a fit of laughter. 

Laughing with Chris had always been so freeing to you. His laugh was infectious, and no matter where you were or what you were doing, it always spread onto you, As you both left the studio, you both ran to your mom’s car. “Y/N!” she yelled, startling you “Did you throw paint on Chan here?” 

You and Chan just look at at each other, losing it and laughing again, causing your mom to laugh too. 

It was the end of Year 8 and you and Chris were on the beach, enjoying the view. “I don’t know why we have to go to high school” you groaned, licking the popsicle in your hand. “We have to grow, plus, high school girls are hot.” He took your popsicle from your hand, sucking on it. “Gross Chris, you are too short for any high school girls anyway.” you giggled, stealing your popsicle back. 

“Really?” he said starting to get up, you knew what was going to happen. You quickly got up, not having time to brush the sand off your clothes as you tried running away. “Come back here!” he yelled, causing you to giggle. 

Before you could get out of your arm's reach, he caught you, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. “What’s next, are you going to call me weak too?” he just laughed. “Put me down Christopher Bhang Chan,” you said while hitting his back with your hands. “Wow, the full legal name, don’t you think that’s a bit too much?” 

Before you could say anything, he threw you into the ocean, laughing in your face. “Oh, you are so done for!” Before he could react to what you had just said, you dragged him into the ocean with you, laughing at his shocked expression. You began splashing water on him, causing you both to have a water fight. 

You never wanted this day to end, thankful that he was always by your side. 

As you both finally ventured back to the beach, you told him to close his eyes. “What are you going to do? Because if you throw me back into the ocean, I’ll drown you so help me god.” 

“Will you just shut up and open your hands?” you groaned, pulling out the little wolf charm you had made him, and placing it gently in his hands. “You can open your eyes now.” 

He opened his eyes, looking down at his hands and grinning. “Omg, I love it, is this supposed to be me as a wolf? It’s so cute, you are so cute for thinking about me.” 

You just grinned, happy that Chan really loved the little trinket you made him. “I also have something for you, it’s not that well thought out, but you know how I started learning the guitar?”

You just nodded, not sure where he was going with it. “Well, I got this little gift for you, it’s nothing much, but it’s my first pick on a necklace for you, just to remember how you supported me through everything.” 

“Channie, I love it, I’m never going to take it off.” You turned around, the back of your neck facing him, “Can you put it on me please?” and he did so. You felt his still-damp hands run along your neck, tying the necklace. You turned around hugging him, “I’m never going to take this off” You grinned at him 

“Promise we will always be like this?” he asked. 

“I promise”

It was the summer of your sophomore year of college, and you and Chris had grown apart. You both still occasionally talked, but it was nothing like before. You never took off the necklace he gave you though, still trying to uphold your promise. It had become a part of you, knowing that, although the both of you didn’t talk, you still had each other's side, hopefully. 

You were in two different crowds, Chan started taking his music much more seriously, while you were known as a goodie two shoes because you got good grades. It was because you guys went to a small high school, and unlike the rest of the people in your grade, you and your friends never found an appeal in drinking and getting high. That didn’t make you nerds, did it?

Your group consisted of Felix, your closest friend after he helped when you tripped and fell in front of the entirety of your homeroom class freshman year. He had extra pokèmon bandaids and helped fix the scrapes on your legs. Since then, you both are always next to each other, stuck to one another like glue.

The next was Seungmin, you guys had met sophomore year of high school, after you accidentally dropped a book on his head in the library. In your defense, you didn’t know that he was on the other side of the shelf. You ran to him apologizing, and from then on began talking since the both of you had a lot in common. With Seungmin came Jeongin. The two of them were like peas in a pod before meeting you, and nothing could separate them. 

Jeongin was a year younger than the three of you, but he fit in perfectly. His older brother, Hyunjin, was part of Chris’s group. Chris was already popular due to him being on the swim team and constantly winning awards, the icing on the cake was when he started creating music in a group called 3racha. They got especially popular in your freshman year of college. 

“Hey, what do you think about attending a party this weekend?” Seungmin asked. You were both home for summer break, you guys were playing Super Smash Bros in your room while Felix was downstairs getting snacks from your kitchen. 

“Seungmin, are you sick? You out of all people want to go to a party?” you asked, taking a sip of your water. “Where are we going?” Felix asked, placing a bowl of grapes on your bed. “Jeongin’s house this weekend, his parents are out of town and Hyunjin’s hosting a party,” he said, popping a grape in his mouth. 

“We should go, it would be fun” Felix grinned, grabbing the controller from Seungmin’s hands. “You know what, it would be. We could pregame at mine because my parents are still on their anniversary vacation” Your parents decided to treat themselves for their 30th anniversary and you were happy to have the house to yourself for a month. 

“Okay, works with me!” Seungmin said before looking out your window to be met with a shirtless Chan. “Damn, that’s why you decided to keep your curtains open” he laughed. You looked up confused only to see Chan. Your face flushed a bright red as you ran over to shut your curtains. 

“Aw, no need to be shy, he literally has the abs of a god,” Felix said looking down at his own stomach “Maybe I should ask him for some tips?” Before you could even say anything, Felix ran to your window, opening the curtains and window and screaming through the panel. “Hey, Chan!” he yelled, causing Chan to look up, a bit puzzled, and open his own window to hear him clearly. 

“Can you start taking me to the gym, I need your abs!” 

You could hear Chan’s laugh clear as day like it hadn’t been almost 4 years since you last heard it. “Yeah, dude! I’ll give you my number, one sec come outside”

Felix ran out of your room, opening the front door to meet up with Chan. “Do you think he did that just to get close to Changbin?” Seungmin questioned out loud.

That caused you to giggle out loud. Felix had been obsessed with Changbin since sophomore year when he started to get buff. It wasn’t a crush, but more like admiration for Felix. He just thought he was cool, but was too shy to befriend him even with his outgoing personality. 

“This is all your fault Minnie” you said pinching his cheeks, causing him to roll his eyes at you. 

“Shit, I have to go pick up my older sister from work, pre-game at your house tomorrow at 9?” he asked running out of your room, almost tripping trying to put on his shoes. “You are bringing the alcohol this time!” you yelled at the door as he ran out. 

You decided to lie down on your bed and scroll on your phone while you waited for Felix to come back only to get a text from him 

Brownie Boy!

What if I told you, I’m already at the gym with Chan…

You

I’m not even surprised…

You groaned, deciding to watch random YouTube videos on your laptop til you passed out since you had nothing else to do. 

Three hours had passed and you had gone down a deep dive of paranormal videos. It was only 11:30 at night and you knew that you had to get up, but you were so scared. You kept hearing noises from downstairs, trying not to think much of it, you were still freaked out. 

The best course of action would be to change into your pajamas and sleep and pray that there were no ghosts in your room. You were too scared to even leave your room so you decided to change, right there, in the middle. What you forgot was that your window was still open, and Chan had gotten home from the gym. 

He had just gotten out of the shower, a towel on his waist, and his hair still a bit wet. He looked up to see his window still open, going to close it, he saw you. You were in just a bra and panties bending over to put on your tiny sleep shorts from freshman year of high school. He groaned watching you pull them over your ass. 

You slowly unclasped your bra, the side of your tits on display for him as you pulled a camisole over your head covering your body. The necklace he had given you at the end of 8th grade lying between the valley of your breasts. He wished he had taken a picture, but before you could turn around to see your window still open, he quickly closed his curtains. 

He lay on his bed, having the picture of you bent over engraved in his mind as he unraveled the towel from his waist. His already semi-hard cock resting against his thigh. He began to pump his hand around his cock, taking the pre-cum that was escaping from the tip of it and spreading it against his head. 

He groaned thinking about you, his childhood best friend, wearing the necklace he gave you. He had claimed you as his, but you never noticed. Too oblivious to what he was trying to tell you. That was why he tried to move on in his sophomore year, trying to date any girl he could, but he could only think about you. 

Your innocent eyes and willingness to help anyone and everyone. Are you still innocent or did you let another man put their dick in your sweet cunt. He groaned at the thought of your moans, how you would sound as he put his cock into you. How you would look with the necklace he gave you bouncing between your tits. You were such a good girl, but he wanted to ruin you and make you his. 

He continued to stroke his cock faster at the thought of that. How good your tits would look covered in his cum. Would you suck his cock like a good girl? Would you let him cum inside of you or would you beg to take it in your mouth? 

That was all Chan needed to cum into the palm of his hands. Fuck, he needed to shower again. He was back under the hot water, trying to calm himself down from his orgasm as he thought about you.  After going to the gym with Felix today, he found out he wasn’t a threat. You and Felix were just friends, the same went for Seungmin. You thought of them as brothers and nothing more. 

Do you still think about him? He knew that he stopped talking to you in 10th grade, but you stopped talking to him too, it wasn’t all him, was it? 

He got into bed, boxers on in case anything happened, and stared at his ceiling thinking about you. If he had one more chance, he would take it. 

You were getting ready at home while Seungmin and Felix were on your bed scrolling through their phones. “Oh Lix, how was your gym session with Chan?” Seungmin asked, turning on your bed to face him. 

“It went good, but that dude doesn’t rest, like damn I felt like I was dying after our third set” he groaned, tossing his phone to the other side of your bed to pay attention to you.

He got up and came behind you, fixing your hair a bit as you were applying a coat of mascara to finish your look. “You look good, trying to get someone’s attention in particular?” he giggled before pinching your cheeks. 

You just rolled your eyes at him as Seungmin finally looked up from his phone. “Wow, you don’t look like a slob for once” You threw one of your brushes at his face, causing a quick “Hey!” to escape from him. 

You had finally finished getting ready, wearing a cute mini-skirt and a plain black top. You didn’t want to be too extra, but your outfit was cute and simple, just how you liked it, especially knowing how crazy Hyunjin’s parties get, you didn’t want to risk anything getting ruined. 

You walked downstairs to see Seungmin on his phone while Felix was holding a shot out for you. “Let’s have fun tonight” he grins, throwing the shot back as his face turns into one of disgust. 

Every time y’all drank, Felix would always be the first to black out. He wasn’t a lightweight per se, but he loved drinking a lot when he had the opportunity.  Seungmin was the designated driver, so he wasn’t pre-gamming, but y’all were most likely going to stay at Jeongin’s anyway so he could still enjoy. 

“Can we please get going before I turn 60?” Seungmin rolled his eyes, grabbing his keys off your kitchen counter. You just giggled at his impatience, not understanding his need to be there already. 

“Hey old man, are you going to Hyunjin’s party?” Seungmin spoke up as you looked up to see who he was talking to. 

You saw Chris getting in his car. He was wearing his usual all-black outfit, but instead of his usual beanie and sweatpants, he was wearing black jeans with a black shirt and silver chains adorning his neck. His hair was a bit curly, framing his face perfectly. 

You loved it when Chan had his hair curly, but you couldn’t compliment him on it, especially after barely talking to him for the past 4 years. 

“Oh yeah, do any of you need a ride?” 

Before you could say no, Seungmin spoke up. “Actually, that would be great. I only have enough space for Felix and me, so if you could take y/n with you, that would be great!”

You glared at Seungmin confused, thinking he was lying. But he was right, his back seats were filled with camera supplies from earlier in the day. He told you he was practicing taking scenery pictures before coming to your house, so you thought he had taken them out before coming over, but he didn’t. 

“Oh, that’s fine, hop in!” 

You reluctantly agreed, walking across your driveway to Chan’s. You could feel your cheeks slightly blush with embarrassment, you didn’t want to be a burden. 

“I promise you I haven’t had anything to drink, so don’t worry” You simply nodded, sitting in the passenger seat, watching Seungmin’s car leaving as Chan sat in the driver's seat. 

“Thanks for taking me, I didn’t know Seungmin had so much stuff in the back seat of his car” you feebly said. You felt bad, you hadn’t talked more than 5 sentences to Chan in so long and now he was giving you a free ride.

“Don’t worry about it, what are neighbors for” he grinned at you, his signature smile warming your insides. “Plus, if you need a ride home, I’m your guy!” 

“Aren’t you going to drink?” you asked as he backed up from his long driveway. 

“I don’t drink, I just go to spend time with Bin and them” he chuckled a bit before putting the car in drive. 

You simply nodded, looking down at his arm and grabbing the stick shift. He was much more muscular now, his veins prominent even in the dark. Before you could even think about what you were doing. You grabbed the necklace that he had given you when you were younger between your fingers.

“Wow, you still wear that?” 

You looked up at him confused, not understanding what he was saying. “The necklace I gave you, you still wear it?” 

“Oh, yeah, you asked me to never take it off, so I kept my promise” 

He simply nodded, turning on the radio as you both fell into a comfortable silence. What you didn’t know was that Chan’s heart was racing.

Even after all this time, you didn’t want to break his promise. His heart swelled at the thought of how cute you were. He wanted to stop the car right there and then to tell you how he felt about you, but he couldn’t. He was too embarrassed, scared that you wouldn’t feel the same way, so he stayed silent. 

It was another 5 minutes of silence til you arrived at Hyunjin and Jeongin’s house. The party was already in full swing, people spilling inside and out. 

Chan parked the car on the street, and before you could even open the door yourself, he ran to your side and did it for you. You thought the sentiment was sweet, chuckling at his eagerness to open the door for you. 

“Thanks” you grinned and he just nodded. You both entered the house to see people making out in the corner and red solo cups splayed across the floor. It wasn’t too loud that it was disrupting everyone on the street, but it was loud enough that you could barely hear Chan next to you telling you that he was going to go find Changbin. 

You simply nodded trying to find your own friends. As you began to walk deeper into the house, you spotted Jeongin sporting ginger hair in the corner talking to Seungmin. You ran up to him, giving him the tightest hug known to man. 

“Your hair!” you screamed trying to make sure he heard you above the music. “Do you like it?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at you and giggling.

You ran your hand through his hair, “I love it, it’s so you Innie” 

He gleaned at your compliment, which caused Seungmin to sport a disgusted face. “Please stop flirting in front of me” Causing the both of you to look at Seungmin with a face of horror. “Ew,” you both said simultaneously, causing the both of you to erupt in giggles. 

“We need to take shots before all the good alcohol is good” You took Jeongin’s and Seungmin’s hands and dragged them to the kitchen. 

As you were pouring the three of you some shots, you looked up to see Felix and Changbin talking while Chan and Lee Know were standing next to them. 

“Are my eyes deceiving me right now? I don’t think I’m that drunk, but is that Changbin and Felix and they are talking?” 

Seungmin also looked up after taking a shot “Holy shit, he finally did it” 

“Should we take a picture to commemorate this moment, or would that be weird?” you asked, pulling your phone out from the pocket of your skirt. 

“Put the phone down” Jeonging laughed, taking it from your hands and holding it above your head laughing. You tried jumping up to get it from him, whining a bit in the process of retrieving it from his hands. 

What you didn’t notice was Chan staring at you, chuckling to himself at your antics, which caused Lee Know to look at him weirdly. That was until he looked up to see what he was looking at. 

“You are still pinning after her after all these years?” Lee Know asked, patting his friend’s back. 

“I’m not pinning, I’m just laughing at them, she looks cute” 

“Dude, you’ve been like this since 7th grade, don’t you think it’s time to move on?” 

“I don’t think I can ever move on” Chan groaned, trying to look away from you. You were like his own personal drug, something that he knew he should look away from, but he physically couldn’t, you were addicting. 

You were walking his way with your friends on your side and a drink in your hand. He fidgeted with his hands a bit, not knowing what to do, only to receive a “told you so” look from Lee Know. 

“Hey guys!” you giggled, already feeling a bit tipsy from how much you had already drank. “What are you up to?” 

Before Chan could even speak up, Hyunjin and Jisung had run up behind them. “Guys come on, they are playing truth or dare in the basement” pushing all of your friends to come with them. 

You followed them downstairs, drink in your hand. There was a whole group of people in the basement all sitting in a circle. You plopped down in between Jeongin and Seungmin, your head resting on Jeongin. 

“Okay guys, are we doing only three truths in a row?” Ryujin asked. Everyone nodded, beginning the game. 

Lily was the first to start, spinning the bottle. It landed on San and he was forced to take his shirt off for the rest of the game, which no one was opposed to. 

The game continued on like this for around an hour, the bottle had now landed on you again. “Truth or Dare?” Felix asked

“I choose dare” you grinned feeling a bit more confident with the alcohol flowing through your system. “I dare you to kiss” he pondered for a second, giggling at himself “Chan!” you simply shrugged, going up to Chan. 

“May I?” you asked wanting to make sure he was comfortable with it. He simply nodded allowing you to kiss his lips. He thought it would last for longer, but it was only a quick peck. 

The feeling of your lips caused his body to tingle, the sensation shocking his entire body, but he attempted to play it off as nonchalant even though his ears were beginning to turn a slight shade of red. 

“Aw come on, that was barely a kiss” Felix groaned

“You never said how long” you teased at him, poking out your tongue

You guys had been going at it for hours, you still drinking along as the people playing began to fizzle out, leaving only a few of you guys playing. 

You decided to get up, underestimating the amount you had drank. You had begun to stumble a bit, Chan quickly getting up to catch you. “Hey, why don’t we go home? You need to sober up” 

You whined “It’s okay Seungmin can take me, you don’t need to” He simply shook his head and pointed you in Seungmin’s direction. He was asleep on Jeongin’s shoulder a light snore leaving his mouth causing you to giggle. 

“He looks just like a puppy” You tried to walk over to squish his face only to be stopped by Chris. “You can play with him tomorrow sweetheart, why don’t we get you home first?” 

You simply nodded, feeling your cheeks redden when he called you sweetheart. He walked you up the stairs of the basement to be met with Changbin and Felix sitting on the couch in the living room talking about some show. 

“I’m taking her home, she’s had quite a lot to drink, text me if you need anything” 

They looked up at Chan, simply nodding and going back to their conversation.

Chan took you to his car, opening the passenger side only to be met with your face inches away from yours as he put you into the seat. “You know Chris”

“What do I know?” he asked a bit teasingly

“You are really hot, and I’m not saying that because I’ve known you for so long, I’m saying that as a fact” 

He just chuckled, “Sweetheart, why don’t you tell me in the morning, when you are sober” 

You just hummed in response as he walked around the car into his own seat, turning on the music and opening the windows so the cool air could hit you as you drove. 

When he finally reached your house, Chan asked you where your keys were and you simply shrugged in response. 

“Come on, don’t you want to be comfortable, in your bed, in your pajamas? Now, where is the key?”

“Don’t wanna go home, there are ghosts” you whispered to him as you looked around to see if they heard you. 

“Now come on, there are no such things as ghosts, please it’s freezing and I want to make sure you don’t get cold in this short skirt of yours”

“Nope, you can’t make me” you giggled. Chan gave up, throwing you over his shoulder, causing you to scream.

“You need to be quiet, or else you will wake up the ghosts,” he said playfully. That was all you needed to shut up. He opened the door to his house, grateful that his family was on a camping trip so they wouldn’t question anything that was happening. 

He took you to his room, placing you on his bed. “Cold” you whispered and he went into his closet finding some clothes from high school that might fit you. Before he could even give them to you, you had already stripped down to your bra and panties. 

He quickly turned around, trying to cover his eyes. As much as he wanted to see you in nothing on his bed, you were drunk, and he was sure as hell not going to take advantage of you. “Here, put these on” he tossed his clothes to you, allowing you to put them on. 

“These are comfy” you sighed, which gave him confirmation to turn around and look at you. You were on his bed, in his clothes, and he wanted to groan. 

“I’ll be back, stay here okay?” you just nodded, playing at the drawstrings of his hoodie. He quickly went downstairs, getting two bottles of water and some painkillers for the headache you were sure to have in the morning. He also rummaged through his mom’s drawers in hopes of finding makeup wipes. 

He came back to his room to see you lying on his bed, head in his pillows. “Hey, let me take your makeup off okay?” 

You got up, simply nodding, allowing him to take off the makeup that was on your face. Each swipe was tentative and gentle, allowing you to feel his hands run across your face. When he finished, he was slowly getting up, but you didn’t let him.

You grabbed his wrists, not wanting him to go. “Please, stay with me, for old time's sake?”

He nodded, telling you to wait a minute as he went to go change. You simply nodded, waiting for him to come into his bed with you. His scent was engulfing you, every pore in your body was covered with him. He finally came into the bed with a black t-shirt and basketball shorts covering his body. 

You wrapped your arms around his body, hugging him like a koala bear, your legs lying on top of his. “You know Channie, it was a really good kiss, even though it was so short” you mumbled into his chest.

“Yeah?” he asked, wrapping his arms around you. 

“Yeah, I hope we can do it again” you sighed, falling asleep in his arms.

You woke up discombobulated, your head throbbing. You took in the room around you, one that you knew well, but it wasn’t yours. The wolf figurine you had made him in the corner confirmed it. You were in Chris’s room. 

You slowly began to recollect everything that happened last night. The getting drunk, the game of truth or dare, the kissing Chan, then confessing to him that you wanted to do it again. 

You had made such a fool of yourself, you groaned into your hands embarrassed, slowly falling back into the bed. You were met with Chan’s voice near you. “Here drink this” he passed you two painkillers and a bottle of water that you happily took. 

“You okay?” he asked. He was next to the bed, his shirt off and sweat dripping from his body. “Wait fuck” he quickly threw on a shirt, trying to appear decent in front of you. 

“Yeah, I feel much better” you groaned, taking another healthy gulp of water. He sat down on the bed, it dipping under his weight as he sat next to you. “Why don’t you go home and take a shower, I’ll make you some food and bring it over okay?” 

You just nodded, wanting to get into your own pajamas even though Chan’s were extremely comfortable. You walked over to your house, quickly running to your room embarrassed. You checked your phone to see if you had gotten any texts, but you hadn’t received anything, what could you expect from your friends when it was eight in the morning?  

You wanted to curl up and die, how could you do that to Chan? Not to mention telling him you wanted to kiss him again. The kissing part wasn’t a lie, but it was just so embarrassing. You went to shower, hoping the heat from it could help relax you just enough that you didn’t make a fool of yourself in front of him again. 

When you got out, you were greeted with a ring of your doorbell. You quickly made your way downstairs, to see Chan with wet hair and a box of donuts in one hand and coffee in the other hand. 

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” you asked, quickly snatching the food from his hands and allowing him to enter your house. 

“Hmm, I do recall sometimes that you did” he giggled, coming in. “Wow, this place hasn’t changed at all” he whistled taking in your house. Pictures of you as a kid, leading up to your teen years littered the walls. Pictures of family vacations, even pictures of Chan were still around the house.

If you want to see something that hasn’t changed at all, you should see my room. You grabbed his hand, leading him up the stairs to your room. It wasn’t that cluttered, only some makeup from yesterday littered on your dresser. 

“Wow, you weren’t joking, it still looks like a unicorn threw up all over your room” you just giggled, allowing him to take in the paintings that you had made over the years. “You’ve improved so much,” he said, running his fingers across the paintings. 

“So have you” you grinned, causing him to look at you and cock his head to the side. “Your music, I’ve listened to all of your songs” 

He rubbed the back of his neck embarrassed. “Oh, I didn’t think you did” 

“Of course I did, I told you I would support you no matter what! It is kind of sad though, you did forget about me as you became famous” you teased. 

He came closer to you, the back of your knees hitting your mattress. “I would never forget you sweetheart” 

Before you could even register what you were doing, your lips attacked his, causing him to groan in your mouth. 

You pulled him onto your bed, flipping the both of you around so you were on top of him straddling him. “Baby, are you sure, I’ve wanted to kiss you for years, but I want to make sure you are sure”

“I’m as sure as I will ever be Channie, please just want you” 

Chan felt like he died and went to heaven. Your lips resumed to crash against his, it was the perfect mix of lust and love. He wanted to devour you, but make you feel like how he felt about you. How you were the only one in the world for him.

As the kiss turned more intense, you began to grind on his crotch, trying to get any sort of friction. A moan escaped your lips as your clit rubbed against his hardening cock at the perfect angle. He took this as an opportunity to place his tongue in your mouth, trying to devour you whole as you continued to grind on him. 

“Fuck baby” he pulled away, “you are so good for me”

Before you could do anything, he flipped you around, your head hitting your pillows as he slowly pulled down your tank top revealing your breast and the necklace he had given you years ago. You forgot you weren’t wearing a bra, giving him full access to your tits. He groaned at the sight, taking one in his hand while kissing the other. He licked your nipple, causing you to moan. 

“Channie, fuck.” He looked up at you, admiring the way you already looked fucked out and he had barely touched you. “Feels that good?” he asked, and you nodded as he continued to attack your breast. 

He took his knee and slowly ground it into your cunt, trying to give you some sort of stimulation as he moved on to the other breast. You were a whimpering mess underneath him. “Please need more” you whined. 

He looked up at you and chuckled. “Is my knee not enough? Does my slutty little baby need my fingers?” 

“Yes please sir, need your fingers” he moaned at you calling him sir. He slowly began kissing down your stomach to your thighs, his pillow lips feathering kissing close to where you wanted him, but he still felt far away. 

“Please sir, will be a good girl, just want your fingers” you whined, you needed some sort of stimulation and he wasn’t giving it to you. 

“Good girls don’t complain,” he said sternly, lightly slapping your thighs. “I know it’s bad to play with your food,” he said while pulling down your shorts and underwear in one swipe “but you will be a good girl and let me right?” 

You nodded as he began to trace his wetness between your folds. “Wow, my baby is so wet. Is this all for me? You want me to fuck you this bad?” 

“Yes sir, please I need it so bad” you whispered. He slowly inserted a finger into you as he moved down kissing your thighs once again. 

Chan felt like he could cum just like this. You were so wet for him, that he felt like he was gonna go crazy. He slowly moved up to your clit, pressing a wet kiss to it as he continued to add another finger to stretch you out for his cock. 

Your moans were becoming more fervent, your hand latching to his hair as he began to eat you like a man starved. The only thing on his mind was making you feel good, making you cum with just his fingers and his mouth. 

He began to lap at your hole as he continued to finger you, trying to taste all your juices. It wasn’t until he hit that one spot inside of you and hummed his lips against your clit that you felt like you were about to cum. 

You were about to cum, your walls clenching around his fingers, your high almost there when he pulled out of you. 

“Channie!” you whined, the loss of his fingers caused you to whine, you were so close and he had ripped that pleasure away from you in seconds.

“The only way you are cumming is on my cock baby” He pulled his cock out of his boxers, the tip hitting his stomach causing you to go wide-eyed. 

You have had sex before, but never with a cock that big. “Now baby, where are your condoms?” 

“Don’t want to use one” You looked up at him with your doe eyes and he swore he had just cum. 

“I mean, I’m on the pill and I’m clean and I trust you, and I just want you to fill me up” you babbled on. 

“Fuck baby, it’s like you are trying to kill me” he groaned. “Want you to ride me okay? So you can take as much of my cock as you want or can. Can you do that for me baby?” 

You simply nodded, getting up from the pillows and aligning the tip of his cock with your cunt. As you ran his head, which was leaking pre-cum, you both groaned at the sensation. You slowly began to push his cock inside of you. 

You felt so full from only the tip, the girth of his cock being too much. You moaned when you got his cock halfway inside of you, slowly bouncing up and down until you fit the entire thing inside of you, causing you both to groan.

He watched his cock slowly go all the way inside of you as you began to ride him. You moaned as you felt him hit a particularly deep spot inside of you. 

“Always been mine haven’t you been baby?” 

“Yes Channie” you moaned as he watched the necklace bounce up and down as you continued to ride him, trying to chase your high.

“Fuck baby, you even wore my necklace to show it off,” he said while wrapping the necklace around his hand, pushing his hips to meet your pace. 

That was all you needed to cum on his cock, he was right behind you. The clench of your cunt around his cock was all he needed to cover your walls in his cum. 

You both fell back onto your bed, his softening cock still inside of you as you began to kiss his lips once again. 

“I hope you know I’m always there for you baby,” he said while kissing the crown of your forehead. You just hummed in response, wrapping your arms around him. You weren’t going to let him go now that you had him after all these years.

#ju <3 writes #bang chan fluff #bangchan smut #bangchan #bang chan smut #bang chan #skz #stray kids x reader #stray kids fluff #stray kids smut #straykids #stray kids #skz smut #skz fluff #skz x reader #straykids x reader #straykids smut

[silicon-puppy-pudding]

Can Fright Knight x Batman be a thing? Is it already a thing? I just saw this post where Frighty is acting as Danny's dad and I just want something with Fredric Knight meeting Bruce like..

Bruce is happy Daimian is making friends. This new kid, Daniel "call me Danny" Knight, seems nice. Kid might be a meta or something, with the way his eyes reflect like a cats and how he seems to always be cold, but he doesn't seem to be a bad kid and his background seemed to check out.

Yesterday Damian had invited Danny over for a sleepover and Bruce was stoked. Dami is having a friend over! A civilian friend! This is so normal and great! Danny had said his father would be picking him up the next day and would show up on his motorcycle (which was apparently named Nightmare?)

Bruce is in the sitting room close to the entrance when Alfred goes to buzz the gate for Danny's father. After a few minutes, he can hear Alfred walking the man in and explaining that "young Master Damian will be down with young Daniel in a few minutes. Till then, maybe you'd like to speak with Master Bruce?"

Bruce almost falls out of his seat when this almost 7 foot tall hunk of a man walks in, with his long raven black hair with a streak of gray down the center, all pulled back into a low ponytail. His bright green eyes have that same, almost glowing, shine that Danny's have and he's got a neat bit of stubble on his sharp jaw. He holds himself tall and seems to scan the room before setting his gaze on Bruce, who is using all his will to not ogle at this gorgeous man in front of him.

He stands to greet him and, oh God, he may actually be 7ft. "You must be Danny's dad, right?" He offers his hand to shake, "Bruce Wayne. I'm happy to see my son making friends with such a nice kid."

The behemoth of a man stares at his hand for just a moment to long before he shakes it and introduces himself, "Fredric Knight. I'm also glad my son is making friends." He says with the hint of a smile, "He's been a bit reclusive since we came here and I don't believe that's been healthy for him."

The two fathers talk for a bit, Bruce doing his best to be Batman ever now and then to make sure this guy isn't a potential threat. After some time, Danny and Damien walk into the room with Danny's bags, "Hey Dad, hi Mr. Bruce. Sorry that took so long," he says as he walks over to Fred (Bruce was told he could call him that) and half hugs the man, "Dami has a snake and he let me feed her!" Fred looks down at his son and pats his head, "That sounds interesting, little prince. Was it a frightful creature?"

As father and son speak, Bruce notes how fond Fred seems of Danny. The 'little prince' name seemed cute and pretty fitting with the last name. He also notes how Fred seemed to relax just a bit the moment Danny walked into the room (the same way he would after his children returned from patrol safe and unharmed), huh.

They say their goodbyes and the father-son duo are escorted out. Bruce and Damien watch as they ride down the driveway, Danny doing his best to wave at them from between his father's arms.

"We should invite the both of them over for dinner." Bruce says with a hand on his son's shoulder, "Fred seems like an interesting character, don't you think?"

"Father,"

"Yes Damian?"

"Please do not seduce my friends father."

#danny phantom #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #fic prompt #dcxdp #Bruce deserves a big hunky man that isn't currently in a relationship #Dami isn't having this shit #Bruce is trying to be suspicious but mans is hot #fright night #Fright Knight x Batman #Fredric Knight x Bruce Wayne??? #Danny would honestly think its kinda funny that Frighty doesn't realize he's seducing Bruce #Frighty is just trying to be a good human dad #Human dads talk about their kids and hobbies right? #dinner is a normal human activity that friends and family partake in right?? #is this Bruce character his friend now?? #Frighty: I've make an adult friend like you said i should #Danny: i don't think you understand what a crush looks like #Frighty: Crush? Am i meant to destroy something in the name of friendship?? #Danny trying not to lose it: 🤭 no dad please don't 🤣

[hees-mine]

𝐋𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 - 𝐋.𝐡𝐬

Pairing: heeseung ⚥ reader

Synopsis: You didn’t expect to see your best friend's father when she invited you over to her house to hang out, and when he greeted you at the door, you really wished you didn’t see him cause the thoughts that went through your mind were far from innocent.

Warnings: smut, rough unprotected sex, dirty talk, oral female receiving, dry humping, cum eating, slight masturbation, fingering, flirting, teasing, pet names, cursing.

Genre: 18+, best friends dad, smut, single dad, minors do not interact!

WC: 3,874k

Part two

⌄ ⌄ ⌄

Present

“Bye, girls, and y/n, feel free to use my card as well,” your best friend's dad said as he winked at you.

That was the first time he had done something like that in a while, and you didn’t know how to react. You just nervously thanked him for it and reminded yourself you couldn’t get involved with him.

After all, you were his daughter's best friend, and it’d probably be best not to.

Heeseung knew you were trying to hide how you felt for him, but he sure wasn’t. You were his daughter's best friend, yeah, but damn, it was so hard not to be attracted to you.

He remembers the first day meeting you well, not really meeting, more like running into each other.

Past

Heeseung was rushing out of the house running late for work cause he got called in randomly on his day off his daughter had just come home from school, and apparently, she had brought a friend. “Hi, sweetie,” he stopped at the door, letting you both enter first. “I gotta go to work, but I left my card on the table so you could buy yourself dinner tonight. and unfortunately, I’ll be back late, but make sure the doors are locked, okay?” He kissed her on the cheek and finally acknowledged you. “Is this your friend? My daughter won’t stop talking about you,” he says energetically.

“Yes, Dad.” She rolled her eyes and wiped her cheek. “And I thought I told you to stop kissing me. I’m not five anymore.”

“But you act like it,” he cooed and pinched her cheek. “And you’ll always be my little baby, so under my roof, you get kisses, and that’s that.”

You smiled at their cute interaction. They seemed like they had a good relationship. “Hello sir,” you greeted him shyly and tucked some hair behind your ear while your friend snorted because you called her dad, sir.

He glared at his daughter playfully. “At least someone addresses me properly, “but,” he tsked, turning his attention back to you while straightening out his tie. “Far too formal for my liking. Just call me heeseung,” he offers you a kind smile.

Nodding your head, you shyly step closer to your friend as you notice his lingering gaze on you. “Well, ladies, enjoy your evening, and like I said, don’t forget to lock the door.”

“Yeah, yeah, Dad, I get it.” she put her hands on his back pushing him out the door.

“Bye!” He chuckled and finally left the house.

“Isn’t he so annoying?” She turns to you, shaking her head.

“Uhh- y-yeah,” you smile after breaking out of your little trance. She just looks at you weirdly and heads upstairs.

You weren’t trying to look at her dad like that, but you didn’t expect him to be that fucking attractive, and his voice sounded so sexy, not to mention he smelled amazing, and that laugh was to die for. You mentally smacked yourself and got your head on straight.

You couldn’t like your best friend's dad.

That was the first encounter between you and him, but little did you know there were far many others to come.

⌄ ⌄ ⌄

You decided to just spend the night with your friend cause you got carried away with the time, it was so late your parents were probably asleep, and they couldn’t pick you up. Plus, you didn’t want to disturb them, and she said Heeseung wouldn’t mind you staying, so you stayed.

It was around three in the morning when you woke up from your slumber feeling thirsty. You went downstairs for a drink of water, nearly scaring the life out of you was heeseung in the kitchen with the lights off making ramen.

Gasping at his presence, he turns to you, almost completely unfazed. He was more shocked to see you were still there than he was startled by your sudden appearance. “Sorry I scared you,” he whispered and chuckled.

You just sigh with relief and put your hand over your racing heart. Thank god it wasn’t some intruder or something.

Giving him an awkward smile, you open the fridge, grabbing your drink from it.

He smiled at how you seemingly already made yourself at home, but he didn’t mind. “So you’re spending the night, I see.” he cuts off the stove, pouring the hot soup into a bowl. He was late coming home, so he decided to make a quick snack before bed.

“Yeah, sorry, I’ll leave early in the morning,” you say sheepishly.

“No worries, you can spend the night whenever you like.” you could have sworn you saw him wink at you, but maybe it was the dark playing tricks on you.

“T-thanks, sir,” you stutter, feeling flustered by him yet again.

“Again, that’s much too formal, princess. From now on,” he steps closer to you, too close, so close you can smell his cologne and feel his hot breath on your neck. “Just call me heeseung.” You flinch when his warm fingers shock your skin. They skim up to your forearm until they reach your tank top strap that, unbeknownst to you, had fallen down your shoulder and exposed nearly half your left breast. “You can do that for me, yeah?” He smoothed over the strap once it was back in place and stared down at you as you nodded and looked up at him with your big, innocent eyes.

“Yeah,” you whisper, fanning his face with your breath.

“Good girl,” he smiles, inching closer to you so close to your face that if you took a single breath, your lips would have touched his, but thankfully he moved away, a cocky grin on his face as he finally let you breathe. “Get some rest.” he moved his hand from your shoulder, tracing your skin until his hand dropped to his side.

“G-goodnight,” you mumble, feeling like you’re getting ready to short-circuit as you run back upstairs.

You went back into your friend's room clutching your chest, trying to calm your racing heart because what the hell just happened? Since when were you his princess, and why the hell was he calling you a good girl?

That was your second encounter with him.

⌄ ⌄ ⌄

Thankfully, when you left your friend's house, heeseung was already gone, and you didn’t have to face him after last night.

You almost thought your run-in with him that night was a dream, that is, until you stupidly spent the night at his house again, and a similar scene played out in the darkness of the kitchen. “Do you always wake up in the middle of the night, or were you just hoping to see me?”

“I-I sir- hee- umm-“ you sigh once again becoming flustered by him you were just coming to get some water as usual, you didn’t know he’d be in the kitchen again.

“I’m playing princess. Take a seat and keep me company,” he told you, and you immediately sat down cause your legs were giving out anyway.

He prepared a cold glass of water for you and came around to the front of your chair, where you sat with your legs slightly spread, which made it easy for him to slot himself inside as his bulge hovered over your right thigh. “Here,” he cupped your cheek, tilting your head back slightly. “Drink up,” he says, holding the glass to your pretty lips.

You maintain eye contact with him, gulping down all the water in the cup. A drop trickled down your chin, and you boldly swiped it with your thumb sucking the last drop of the clear liquid off your finger as he amusingly raised his brow at your sudden change in behavior.

He set the cup aside, placing his hand on your shoulder and dragging it down to your exposed chest. He goes slower the lower he gets, and when you don’t stop him, he cups your breast in his palm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

You moan and bite your lip softly, feeling his large hand grope your breast. “Rest” is all he says as he goes back to the stove to finish his noodles. He knew his daughter wouldn’t be happy if she knew what he was doing with you, so he willed himself to stop before things went too far.

You disappointedly stood up and went back upstairs with a sticky patch on your underwear, and you felt guilty cause if your friend knew what just happened, you knew she’d be upset. There’s no way she’d ever forgive you for making a move on her dad, and rightfully so.

That was the third and final encounter with him. Well, for a while.

⌄ ⌄ ⌄

Present

“Thanks,” he smirks a little at your flustered state, knowing full well what he was doing to you, and he might have been enjoying it a little too much. He told himself he’d quit hitting on you, but that was futile because you were just too fine for him to resist.

“No problem,” he adds before you both leave for the mall.

Your time at the mall was fun. You bought mostly everything on your dime, but there was a really cute lingerie set, and you didn’t have enough money to pay for it, but you remembered heeseung let you use his card, and it’d be rude to turn down his offer, right?

Right.

Besides, it was only fifty dollars, and that was worth it cause the set was so pretty.

After that, you both got ready to leave the mall. It had been two hours, and your friend kept grumbling about how tired she was, so you finally went home with her.

She went upstairs after you said your goodbyes and you were about to take your leave until heeseung came downstairs. “Oh, hi, y/n,” he winked at you. “Did you have fun?”

You nodded, standing still with your head slightly lowered every now and then stealing a look at his body. His tie was off, his white dress shirt unbuttoned along with his belt buckle being undone. You assumed he was getting ready to take a shower after work.

“Yeah? What did you get?” He points to the bag in your hand.

“Just stuff.” You shrugged, and he laughed.

“Obviously, princess, but what stuff?” He spurs you on, and your eyes widen when he calls you that. You immediately looked upstairs, but as usual, heeseung was unfazed cause he knew you two wouldn’t get caught with his daughter sound asleep upstairs.

He grabbed your hand, leading you to the kitchen, the most private area of the house, at least on the bottom floor. “Now be a good girl and show me” he presses you against the island of the kitchen, and you instantly feel his bulge on your ass which makes you moan, and you feel so pathetic for giving in that easily. “Go on” he firmly cups your tits in his hand and presses his cheek to yours, thrusting against you softly.

“I- umm, o-kay,” you breathe shakily as you pull out the items from your little shopping trip, feeling overwhelmed by his presence behind you as he humped his dick on your ass.

The first item was a plush toy, and he just laughed quietly behind you. “Cute,” he kissed your cheek, sliding his hand up your shirt to play with your erect nipples pinching them softly as your back involuntarily arched ass pressing against his groin, making him groan softly.

“Hee-“ your voice cuts out as he grinds himself against you harder. His dick felt so big you were already shamelessly dripping for him.

You pull out another item, and it is a book. “Didn’t peg you as a reader” he drops his hands to your waist, holding you still as he bends his knees slightly to dry hump you on the counter.

Your brain is completely fried. You can barely even piece together what he’s saying to you.

“Keep going,” he whispers, panting next to your ear, eyes going to the staircase to make sure you two wouldn’t get caught.

You whine, embarrassed, as you pull out the lingering set. “Fuck princess,” he whispers, approving of the set you had bought. He’d definitely need to see you in that one day. “Money well spent,” he chuckles as he licks on your ear lobe, heart thumping in his chest at the thrill of finally having you all to himself.

You felt weak in the knees. You had gone dumb just from feeling his hard dick pressed on you.

You whimpered and fell flat on the table. Your cheek pressed into the cold marble as he gripped your shoulders, gaining leverage to rut his hips more effectively. “Hee, we can't.” Your attempt to make him stop was nothing short of pathetic, barely above a whisper, with no stock behind your words whatsoever.

“We can,” he breathes. Nothing was going to get in the way of that. He felt like he was going to go crazy if he didn’t have you soon. “You can keep a secret, right? Do it for me,” he leans down, changing the momentum of his hips to a slow grind. “Come on, baby, please say yes. I need you so bad.” he kissed your temple. “Just one time,” he whimpers when his tip brushes against your ass at the perfect angle.

He was right. It could just be one time to get it out of your systems. Your friend was asleep, and you wanted him just as bad. “Okay”

“Fuck” he moans and stands up, turning you around and scooping you up in his arms to take you to his office, which was furthest away from his daughter’s bedroom.

He shuts the door not bothering to lock it, and sits you in his swivel chair. He pushed the guilt to the back of his mind as he dropped to his knees and spread your legs open wasting no time to lick you through your shorts and underwear making you shudder.

His eyes roll back slightly, and he growls, roughly yanking your shorts and underwear down to your ankles. “Beautiful pussy” he comments while staring at your core.

You bite your lip shyly as he rubs your thighs and lowers his head between your legs. He groans at the sight of your essence dripping from your hole. “Didn’t know I made you this wet, sweetheart” he winks at you before you can respond, diving into your pussy tongue, flicking out to lap at your wet folds. “Tastes so fucking good.”

You had to cover your mouth to stop yourself from moaning as you felt his hot tongue swiping between your outer lips. He looked at you licking your clit, and he knew it felt good with the way your legs shook and your brows creased.

Lowering his hand between his legs, he reaches inside his underwear to grip the base of his cock and stroke out some of the built-up tension from all the weeks of wanting to feel you.

You clench at the sight of him touching himself while eating you out, and a glob of wetness oozes from you as your muscles contract each time he flicks his tongue.

He pulls your clit between his lips, lightly bobbing his head while swirling his wet tip in his palm.

Giving your thigh a light squeeze, he then moves his hand down to prod at your hole, slipping in a finger to warm you up to him.

He moans into your pussy which muffles his sounds, and he has to stop touching himself before he cums prematurely. He hadn’t had anyone since his wife left him, and he was far too sensitive from the lack of intimacy.

Now that his other hand was free, he slipped in under your shirt, pulling and twisting your nipple while adding a second finger inside your hot cunt.

Your legs were trembling, and it was only a matter of time before you came on his tongue, and he knew it from the clench around his fingers. “Cum on my tongue, princess,” he parted from you, long enough to say and dove right back in, flicking his wet tongue on your clit, making your eyes roll back as you bucked your hips, riding his fingers and tongue as you came gripping tightly onto the armrest of his desk chair and squeezing your eyes shut trying your best not to scream in pleasure.

He pumped you a few more times with his fingers and then pulled away, licking them clean as he monitored your state feeling proud that he already had you cumming and shaking in pleasure. “Stand up,” he quickly whispers, standing on his own feet and shifting himself behind you, lifting up your shirt so he could see your little clenching hole. “So pretty” he rubs your ass with his palms spreading your cheeks open as your hole drips more cum. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“No!” you say immediately, and he’s never been happier to hear the word no in his life.

At your words, he quickly opens the hole on the front of his boxers, rubbing his tip on your wet lips. “Heeseung,” your moan is straight-up filthy, and it makes his cock jerk in anticipation.

“Quiet,” he whispers to you. Much like you, his words held no stock behind them, and if it meant he got to hear your moans, he’s not sure if he cared if his daughter caught you both or not. “Want this big dick in you, don’t you, princess?” he says in a tone that makes you shiver, and you moan out a yes in response. “Mhm hmm, gonna fill you in real nice and good, stretch your pussy on my cock, gonna fuck your walls just the way you deserve pretty girl,” he grunts, slowly sliding in your soaked pussy completely raw as he bends you forward, making you fall on his desk.

He sets a pace, and clapping sounds can be heard right away. The jingle of his belt each time his hips snap made you all the more excited as he pistons into you using his full force. “Fuck heeseung,” you cry out, digging at the paperwork on his desk and crumpling the sheets as you grit your teeth and struggle to stand up from how good his dick feels fucking into you. “More”

He lifted his shirt up, tucking it under his chin so he could watch it go in and out of you as your puffy cunt coated his cock in your white cream, the front of his underwear a complete mess of sticky arousal. “Like that princess?”

“Yes,” your voice fluctuates, going higher when he bottoms out and lower when he pulls nearly all the way out, and each one of his strokes feels like absolute heaven. “So fucking good.”

“That’s what you’ve been wanting, huh baby? From the beginning, I could tell you wanted me rooted deep in this pussy,” and he’s not lying. The moment you saw him, you indeed wanted him inside you, no matter how wrong it was. “And don’t you dare lie to me,” he moans, his last words lost in pleasure as he thrusts turn sloppy from how wet and silky your cunt felt around him.

“Fuck yes heeseung, wanted you since the first day,” you moan.

“Yeah?” He whimpers, knowing that he can’t hold off much longer. You just feel too tight and good, even better than he imagined.

“Yes, hee so bad needed to feel you so bad that night” he knows exactly what night you’re talking about, the one where he almost fucked you right on the kitchen counter but held himself back for his daughter’s sake, but now there was no holding back. He wanted no, needed to fuck you.

“Me too,” he hunches forward, slipping his hand to your clit and rubbing it in circles. “Need my cum too, huh, princess?” He lifts you off his desk, standing you upright and pounding up into your warm cunt.

“Yes!! Please give it to me,” you cry out, legs shaking violently as he ruthlessly drills your swollen sopping pussy. The wet sounds fill up his office, making you clench around him even tighter as it gets steamier in the small confined space.

“Shh, princess,” he cups his hand over your mouth, his other hand still flicking your sensitive nub. “Unless you want my daughter finding out you like getting fucked like a slut” he grunts in your ear, snapping his hips wildly until he starts twitching inside you. “Huh? Want your little friend knowing you like getting dicked down by her father?” You clench at his words. It was so wrong, but you couldn’t help getting turned on from it.

You moan under his palm, coming undone around his thick base, and you would have collapsed if it wasn’t for his strong hold on you.

“Dirty girl getting turned on by fucking your best friend's dad,” he grins. “Gonna send you out of here with my cum dripping down your legs, so she knows what a whore you are for her dad's big dick” You go limp in his arms as he rubs your clit into oblivion, and you’re cumming and spasming around him for the second time in less than seconds. “Cum on my cock, just like that princess, gonna fill this pretty pussy with all my cum” his voice turns into a shallow whimper, and he pauses inside you, finally shooting his cum up into your uterus, and you squeak from the hot feeling of his semen getting repeatedly stuffed in your swollen pussy as he ruts into you stroking out your highs together. “Take it all, princess,” he whispers in your ear, throbbing inside you until his balls run dry, he groans, dragging his dick against your slippery walls until your orgasms fade away.

You’re both gasping for air as he plops down on his desk chair with you still hanging off his huge cock. “Oh shit,” he pulls you off him, a mix of yours and his cum dripping on his cock and down to his balls. “We made a mess, princess,” he chuckles breathlessly.

You stand up wobbly as you pull up your shorts and straighten your hair out as best as possible.

He smacks your ass, earning another whimper from you that makes him smirk in satisfaction as he stands up, covering up his cum stained boxers and buckling his belt.

You don’t know what to do or say, so you leave his office, barely able to think or walk straight. You don’t even grab the items you bought from the mall earlier. Instead, you walk to the door leaving the house with nothing but guilt and wonder how you’re going to face your friend at school tomorrow, and even with that thought and feeling his cum still leaking out of your hole and down your quivering legs. You don’t regret any of it. You’d go back and do it all over again.

Heeseung knew he said one time, but after you shut the door, his cock was craving to be in your pussy again, so much that he locked his office door and jerked off with his cum filled boxers still wet with your arousal and as he groaned your name, spilling his thick milky load in his boxers he knew that wouldn’t be the last time.

⌄ ⌄ ⌄

Thanks for reading please reblog and leave feedback.

#heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #enhypen heeseung #enhypen smut #heeseung #enhypen hyung line #lee heeseung #enhypen #enhypen scenarios #heeseung fluff #enhypen fanfic #enhypen hard hours #heeseung angst #heeseung x reader #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen fluff

[melancholyhigh]

who has the face like smarty does?

ft. dbf!leon x fem!reader

synopsis. your dad is drunk and can barely drive home after a night out. luckily his best bud leon is there to help.

content. smut. 2.4k words. unprotected p in v, he pulls out, fingering, begging, masturbation, slight scratching, it's surprisingly soft 'n sweet, pet names, reader is kinda a perv, ooc vendetta!leon (he's on vacation).

note. he's so lana del rey. btw my inboxes are open if you guys wanna chat or request anything.

masterlist. part one. part two. part three. reblogs & feedback are appreciated !!

You first met Leon when your dad invited him for dinner. 

It was not an invitation but rather a last-second call. Your father was out, and he saw a co-worker, Leon, and thought it would be great to catch up over a drink at home. 

It was by sheer luck that they were both on vacation. 

They had a history together. Both work together in the DSO. At some point, you had to know what your father did to get an income. You knew it was selfish that you hated your father’s job. He was saving lives, sure, but you dreaded the day he won’t enter through the doors of your home, so you were ecstatic that he finally took a vacation.

You were on Spring break from college and decided to be a doting daughter and stay with your dad because you were concerned about how alone he was. So when you saw not only him but a stranger walking through the door, you were shocked. 

Your father introduced the stranger. Leon S. Kennedy.

You shook his hand, palm calloused from years of work.

He was gorgeous. The dark locks which framed his face, the tight leather jacket that fit him oh so well, and the smile of pride he has when your father laughs at one of his jokes. 

At dinner, your eyes flicker to him. His hands as they grip the glass of whiskey. The long, thick fingers circled the drink. His veins protrude as he takes a swig of the amber-coloured liquid. 

You noticed that Leon respected your father and his work. You also saw how his eyes crinkle when he chuckles and the smirk he adorns when he catches you looking at him. 

You didn’t know whether you felt relieved or disappointed when he left, patting your dad’s shoulder and thanking him for the meal and drink.

For one, you were glad your dad had a good friend to rely on, someone he could trust and relate to — despite being a few years his senior.

But on the other hand, you couldn’t get him out of your head.

You went to bed that night, and your mind was plagued with thoughts of Leon. He was all you could think about. 

And a few days after, your dad invited him over again. To watch ‘the game’ or whatever. You hadn’t pegged him as a sports guy. You weren’t one, but when your dad offered for you to join in a joking manner, you accepted. He was taken aback but happy nonetheless. 

You were sitting on the couch, looking at the screen, brows furrowed. You felt a dip in the cushion right next to you. Looking up, you expect to see your dad, only to be met with the man you couldn’t get out of your head. 

You bit your lip, staring at his handsome face, trying to be discreet.

Your gaze lowers, his hand holding onto the beer bottle and even lower to his thighs. God, they were so muscular, his jeans making them more pronounced. It was wrong to think of him like that, especially since your dad considered him his best bud. But you wanted so badly to sit on his lap. You wondered if he’d grip your hips, guiding your pussy against his thigh, trying to make you come undone —

“I can feel you staring at me,” a deep, smooth voice called out. Your eyes snapped up to meet Leon. Your face feels hot from the embarrassment of getting caught staring at him. You were lucky your dad was in the kitchen.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” you mumbled in shame. Did he think you were some perv? He wouldn’t be entirely wrong.

Leon laughs, and you can’t help but feel both mortified and aroused. One of his hands moves to sit on top of your thigh, and he squeezes it softly.

“Don’t be. I like the attention, sweetheart.” 

You can’t even look at him or get a word out without stuttering. You’re too busy trying to comprehend that he’s actually touching you. 

His hand stays on your thigh, eating up your reaction. It returns to his side when your dad returns to the room, passing Leon another drink. 

“Hey, kid, ya good? You’re looking a little faint,” your father asks, sitting near you. Leon smirks, taking a sip from his drink. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, Dad. I think it’s ‘cause our team’s playing ass.” You responded, trying to play it cool. 

Your dad scoffs, “Greedy bastards. What’d they expect from selling their best players?”

You sigh, grateful your dad is going on a tangent about his team.

–-

You haven’t seen Leon in a week. You also haven’t stopped thinking about him since.

His voice and soft touch swarm your mind. Unable to focus on anything, your mind is consumed with nothing but him. You’ve come undone with nothing but his name on your tongue. 

You wanted to see him again — to continue what he started. 

Your dad had a work celebration to attend. Therefore leaving you all alone in an empty house. 

You were concerned for your father. You knew he couldn’t handle his alcohol consumption which often left you taking care of him, ironically enough. You hoped he’d be okay to get home safe.

You heard a knock on the door.

Checking the time, you groan. It was 11:32 PM, way past his bedtime. 

Opening the door, you are met with a familiar face holding your father up by his shoulders. Your father stumbles into the house, barely greeting you with a ‘hi, kid’ before making a beeline to the kitchen and then his room. 

“He swears he's not senile, then pulls some shit like that,” you complained.

Leon chuckles, and you clear your throat. Oh yeah. Him.

“Did you drive here drunk?” You questioned, smelling the whiskey on his breath, “You should stay for a bit. Sober up.”

It was a weak attempt to get him to stay. You knew he was more capable drunk than you were stone sober. 

Smiling, he surprisingly agreed, “You’re right.”

You move aside, letting him enter your home. Your dad was probably out cold. This is your chance. 

“Sorry ‘bout my dad, by the way,” you said. Leon shakes his head, sitting down on the couch, leaning back. He spreads his legs. Fuck.

“He wasn’t too bad,” he replies. He continues about the event, but you get none of it. Too preoccupied with staring at his pretty lips as he speaks. 

“I love it when you look at me like that, sweetheart,” he utters with a grin.

He caught you again. How embarrassing. Do you ever learn?

Looking at you with half-lidded eyes, he takes in your appearance. Your pebbled nipples are shown through the thin tank top, and your thighs are pressed together. He knows how badly you want him. 

“C’mere, baby,” he murmurs, patting his lap, and you follow his orders like his obedient puppy, straddling him. You gasped softly, feeling his hardening erection through the flimsy fabric of your sleep shorts, which were soaked. His hands come up to your waist, grasping it.

“I can feel how wet your pussy is for me, sweet girl,” Leon groans quietly.

You move to press your lips against his, but he grips your jaw, preventing you. His thumb is on your bottom lip, jutting out.

“Tell me how bad you want me.” He grunted. You pout, looking at him with pleading eyes.

“Need you, Leon. So, so bad, please.” You whined, rocking your hips against his clothed cock, craving the friction.

“Did you play with your pretty clit thinking of me, hm?” He knew, of course, he fucking knew. 

“Mhm.” You nod your head mindlessly. It was impressive how he turned you into such a pathetic, whiney mess, desperate for any attention he gives so quickly. 

He grins, bringing you into your well-deserved kiss. His plump lips meet yours, teeth clashing as you taste the bitter alcohol on his tongue. Your arms wrap around his neck, and your breasts are flushed with his chest. His lips move together with yours before he pulls away. 

“Let’s move to your bedroom before you give your old man a heart attack.” You playfully smack him, and he smiles.

His strong hands move to the back of your thighs, hoisting you up. He enters your bedroom with you in his arms and places you on your bed. He’s locking the door before getting on top of you. 

Placing a chaste kiss on your lips, he thumbs the waistband of your shorts, getting them off you slowly. When they’re off, Leon grips your legs, spreading them apart. You watch as he marvels at your dripping cunt, turning your head away in embarrassment. 

He runs his fingers through your folds, coating them with your slick. Rubbing the sensitive bud with his thumb, he notices your hips grinding against him in desperation.

“So sensitive, pretty girl.” He mumbles, watching as you squirm against the strawberry-printed sheet of your bed.

His ring and middle finger prod at your entrance, sliding in. His fingers are so thick and long, filling your pussy better than your own. He’s pumping his fingers into you slowly. Breathy moans and whines escape your parted lips.

He watches in a trance as his fingers disappear into your warm pussy.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to be inside you, sweetheart.”

You clench around him, whimpering. His thumb is on your swollen bud, and you throw your head back and grab at sheets, bunching it up. You’re close to the edge. Leon curls his fingers inside you, and your orgasm washes over you with a loud cry of Leon’s name. 

He adores your little cries and gasps. You look so gorgeous. Your thighs shake with the aftershock of your orgasm, and Leon gives you a minute to come down from your high. 

He’s palming his now fully hardened cock through the fabric of his jeans, watching as your chest moves with every breath you take. 

Leon eagerly rids you off your tank top, your tits exposed to the cool air, nipples hardening even more. You move to your knees and cross your arms.

“That’s unfair,” you huff. “You still have all your clothes on.”

“I’ll make it even then, baby.”

He shrugs his leather jacket off his shoulders and pulls the black tee over his head. One of his hands trails from his neck to the front of his pants, and the veins of his arms are prominent as he unbuckles his belt. He’s making a show of himself since he knows how much you love admiring him.

Pulling off his pants, he’s in nothing but boxers. Your eyes move down to his hips, following his v-line. Your attention is now on the trail of curls that leads into and beneath his boxers, which are blotted with stains of precum. 

Leon tugs his boxers down, revealing his flushed dick. The tip is red, and precum is dribbling down his shaft. Your cunt aches at the mere sight of him, causing you to squeeze your thighs together. 

His hands are on his cock, pumping the shaft. He smears the precum on his head, rubbing it like he did your clit. His head is thrown back as he moans loudly. Leon adores your eyes on him like he’s your favourite display. 

You’re crawling over to him. You were not even face-to-face with his dick before he stopped you. His hand encloses your jaw again, preventing you from giving him the messiest head you could manage. 

His thumb is pressing against your lips. 

“Not now, sweetheart. Maybe next time,” he mumbles. His voice is so deep yet soft, and his words made your heart and pussy flutter. “Need to be inside you.”

“On your back.” You silently and obediently follow his command, laying the soft sheets. You’d do anything he told you if you were honest with yourself. 

Leon is in between your spread legs, lifting them to his hips. Wrapping your legs around his torso, you bring him closer to you. 

He’s guiding the tip of his cock through your wet folds, using your arousal and cum as a lubricant before slowly entering your warm cunt. 

You gasp at the sting, tears forming at your waterline. Leon gives you time to adjust, kissing your hot tears away. He’s fully sheathed inside your gummy walls, and you whimper.

“M’gonna move, alright? It'll feel better in a minute.” You give him a weak nod, sniffling. 

He thrusts into you, and one of his hands is on your hip, squeezing it softly. The pain of the stretch fades into something euphoric. It has you mewling into Leon’s ear.

He’s holding back, trying to be quiet. He’s afraid of your father and what he’d do if he caught him. But this pussy was worth all the trouble.

His hips pick up in speed, fucking you at a faster pace. Your hands move up to his shoulders, your nails digging into the flesh of the skin, dragging it down to his pecs. Leon moans at the discomfort.

Warmth pulses through you when Leon rubs your clit.  It added to the pleasure of getting your pussy pounded by his fat cock.

“L– Leon!” you cried out, your thighs trembling. You cover your mouth with your palm containing your whines. 

Your pussy squeezes around him, effectively milking him of what he had. He feels your warm walls pulse around his throbbing dick. Your cunt gushes around his cock as you come with a cry muffled by your hands. 

He buries his head into the crook of your neck. An attempt to stop his moans. His stubble rubbed against the sensitive skin of your neck while he left opened-mouth kisses along the column of your throat.

You are overstimulated as Leon bucks his hips into you, trying to reach his high. 

He comes with a soft groan of your name, pulling out and finishing on your tummy. 

You’re both panting. Leon collapses next to you with a soft grunt. His dark hair splayed out on the pillow beneath his head. You feel his sticky cum on your skin, but you’re too tired to care. Too tired to care about the consequences of tomorrow.

Your eyes fluttered shut, sleep taking over you, attempting to cuddle with him. Leon smiles at the sight, his heart warm in his chest. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up first, sweetheart.”

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #vendetta leon #leon kennedy smut #leon smut #leon kennedy x you #leon x reader #leon x you #resident evil #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil vendetta #smut #✩‧₊˚ fics

[excalibur-gone-missing]

Paring: jeonghan x you

Genre: fluff, 70's au, little to no angst

warnings: none, maybe a few swear words here and there

summary: jeonghan might be a cocky bastard but when it comes to you he will turn the world upside down, or so he claims.

words: 2k

a/n: I request each and every one of you to comment on this fic don't be a silent reader it helps me as an author to understand my readers and i would love to communicate with all of you. Constructive criticism is always welcomed by me so do talk about this fic or send me an ask. Plus if you loved it enough don't forget to reblog, it will help me reach a larger audience.

a/n 2: i heard a podcast and it made me want to write this fic because the love story of the two hosts was sooo damn cutee.

You knew Jeonghan from when you were literally a kid.

His father had moved to your city after a presentation from little Jeonghan on how to make a pocketknife using ice cream sticks that he learnt from his local friends, his mother mortified that her little sweet child would grow up to become a goon forced his father to change cities to go as far away from the place they physically could.

It was during his fathers pursuit for a stable Korean community in Canada’s ever-growing cities did he come across the name of your grandfather’s in the phonebook that sounded very much similar to his. Your grandfather being the trusting and kind man he was invited his father for a dinner in his house the following day and this event kickstarted a relationship between the two families wherein, his father bought a house six minutes away from yours in the small part of your city inhabited by mostly Asians.

You both had met when he was seven and you were only three, he still remembers babysitting you when you were in middle school as your parents trusted no one more than him. So, when he broke the beautiful glass table in your living room, he had skillfully blamed you resulting in a three-hour long lecture from your parents about taking care of ones possessions.

You hated Jeonghan then, you really did, so you refused to talk to him for the next almost five years.

Until you both found yourselves in a duet dance opposite to each other because it was the neighborhood talent show and it was mandatory for the kids to participate. Typical Asian parents.

To no ones surprise your dance number got a tad bit too much hype from the watchers and it kickstarted another full year of you both not talking to each other at all because of the teasing glances and suggestive remarks from adults and children alike.

The time you both talked to each other again was when it was you senior year prom at high school and your father being the overprotective man he was, did not allow you to go because according to him ‘prom is how American kids end up getting pregnant.’

He was wrong of course; kids get pregnant due to having sex but you being the soft-spoken kid you were did not have the gal to inform him that. You would rather spend the night being sad and watching Simpsons and crying about how unfair it is for your parents to not let you go and experience the night considered to rank number one in peak American high school experience.

This was the first time you saw Jeonghan as your lord and savior, which you obviously will never tell him because it will do nothing but fuel his over-the-top ego. But that day he had stepped in and talked to you father.

“It’s an experience and everyone should be able to experience it, I think you are wrong sir to take away this from your daughter,” he had oh so righteously said.

“Son, I would let her only if you take her, as I don’t trust anyone but you with my daughter.”

“So, I shall then.”

Now did this conversation shock you? Yes, it did especially your father’s response to Jeonghan, but you were not going to stir up any feminist conversation with your father right now, not when you just got the pass to go to prom.

That night was something you barely remember; it has been twenty years since then and you barely care about the overly hyped kids and the future alcoholics that you encountered that night. Now that you are wise and older, you understand your parents concern. Suzy from you class had become a mother at the prime age of eighteen, nine months later. You are thankful that your father made the wise choice for you that day.

That night from what you remember was just plain boring, you had come back at 11 to a quite house, had talked to the boy for the entirety of the night, watched the sunrise with him and at the end had hugged him thanking him for taking you to prom.

After that incident, you both had again gone onto your own ways and had not talked to each other for another year till the next family function, where you both were the only kids of the same age present as all your other friends were out of the country for college.

That weekend had sparked a friendship between you both, as you always stuck to each other’s side seeking comfort from one another as talking to anyone else somehow always circled back to your marriage and their extreme concern for your depleting eggs.

The friendship you both wove lasted a long while, throughout your college. Till one day you come back from a trip to Daegu, and he was there standing at the airport ready to rush you away from your family to the nearest Starbucks because he had some news for you.

Once in the café he informed you that he had landed the job he had been trying for right after finishing college. You were elated for him, so happy that you almost forgot to tell him about the potential marriage partner your parents had whipped up during your two-week-long stay there.

Jeonghan being the man he was asked you up front to marry him, confessing his hidden feeling for you and how the weight of them might have just decreased his height. Dramatic bitch.

You being brough back to reality told him no and stated the reason to be man you could have potentially married. He obviously told you to say no to this unknown ‘son of a bitch’ and accept his proposal.

So being the bigger person, because Jeonghan obviously refused to, you reminded him that you had never dated anyone let alone him and you will not marry a man you have not dated.

This conversation then ignited your relationship the first step of which was turning down the said ‘son of a bitch’ while telling your father you wanted to focus on your career more, which you really did. Fast forward six months and while keeping up the long-distance relation with frequent phone calls late at night because your parents might pick up the landline and eavesdrop if its during the day, while at the same time trying to search for a job near Boston went on.

On one late Sunday afternoon as you were sitting on the kitchen island sipping on coffee you got an email from on of the companies, you had given an interview to, informing you had gotten an onsite job that would require you to move to Cambridge, and you were over the moon.

So, the preparations began for your send off and again Jeonghan stepped in like the messiah he is. He is absolutely not one, you refuse to accept. The man went ahead and told your conservative father he will give up his life to take care of you, till this date you claim it will be the opposite if a situation like that befalls you both. After packing your bags, you were on your merry way to live with the man.

It took you both some time to adjust to the new settings he would be over at your place during the weekends and sometimes you would be at his. This continued for another year or so before one night as you both were laying on the bed together when Jeonghan suddenly piped up.

“I think you should see other people.”

Not understanding what he meant you turned towards the guy and asked, “what do you mean?”

“I know we will end up marrying each other, so I want you to experience dating other men too, so you don’t get to ever claim I was the only guy in your life,” he explained to you.

You had yet to get a taste of exactly how much of a cocky motherfucker you are dating, said innocently.

“But Jeonghan you are the only guy I ever dated.”

That was the end of that conversation that night before you both went to sleep, but his urging never stopped. It went on for a few days till one day your exhausted and a tad bit insecure self, lashed out at him claiming he wanted to cheat on you, and he wanted a break. So, you gave one to him.

Five years later during your sister’s wedding in Singapore was when his proposal was finally accepted. You had just arrived at the airport and yet again the man had swooped in and taken you away from your family under the guise of some kind of sound check that was needed to be done in the wedding venue.

That entire year you had a flower bouquet delivered early morning to your house with an apology letter, although the apologies lasted only for a month before you forgave the terrified man, who apologized profusely after you accepted to talk to him. Even though you did feel a bit bad after seeing him, the guy looked like he was living during the great depression.

After that all was smooth sailing and he never ever tried to upset you at all, but his playful nature persisted anyways, not like you minded that.

Your clueless self agreed to go with him and without a second thought he took you to the cables to take you to an island that was nowhere close to the wedding venue. As you were getting increasingly confused, you kept asking him where exactly you both were going. He kept deflecting the topic, so you ultimately gave up and, as another family came up on the cable car, you started talking about your flight that you took with your family. The poor man did not hear one word, he was sweating bullocks and was essentially confused why another family was in the cable car that he had fully booked for you both.

As the family got down at the end, he stopped you from doing so too claiming it is not the stop, even though it was the last one. It was then the nervous wreck of a man got down on one knee in front of asking for your hand in marriage once again, and you being so in love with him accepted to spend the rest of your life with the man.

The rest of it was history, you both had to tell your parents none of whom were shocked at all, rather relieved that you both had at last agreed to get married and be together forever.

Now ten years later and with your two children, you are perfectly content with your life. Waking up with Jeonghan beside you everyday sounds like a dream and you are happy it came true for you.

As you tossed around the bed you saw Jeonghan eyeing you in his half-awake state.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

“Us,” you answer snuggling closer to him.

“What about us, huh?”

“The way you forced me to date some other guy because you wanted me to have more experience in dating,” you laughed at the memory.

“Don’t tell me about that it still haunts me till this day” he retorts with a shudder.

“Why did you do it anyways?” you ask.

“I knew I was going to marry you so I wanted you to have some more experience with dating others so whenever you have an argument I could say ‘hey remember that looser you dated!’”, he answers with laugh.

With a laugh you slapped his shoulder exclaiming, “I sometimes forget how cocky you can get!”

"How else do you think I got the permission to propose you in someone else's marriage!" he states sassily.

With that Jeonghan snuggles closer to you some more, its Sundays anyways the kids are with their grandparents and you both have all the time in the world to just bask in each other’s presence and not do anything at all.

#svt #fluff #jeonghan #f2l #s2l #seventeen x you #svt imagines #svt fanfic #svt x reader #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenarios #seventeen jeonghan #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x oc #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan imagines #jeonghan scenarios #jeonghan x you #jeonghan x y/n #jeonghan x oc #excalibur fics

[weasleyreidstyles]

Serendipity

chapter eight

summary: it was only meant to be a purely transactional relationship. he would help her strengthen her abilities in return for her getting his friends out of his father's nasty path. he didn't mean to fall for her, but loving her was the easiest thing in his dark world.

no use of y/n, but your general nickname is Meadow. all characters are aged up to be over 18.

pairings: mattheo riddle x fem!ravenclaw reader; platonic!slytherins x fem!reader; platonic!golden trio x fem!reader

warning(s): 18+ content, unprotected sex (use protection obvs), rough undertones but not really, bro's possessive as fuck

series masterlist; previous part; next part

Your old Professor had given you some much needed insight over the Christmas holidays. Harry had dragged you and Ron to sit in agonising silence as he and Remus had a back and forth battle of wills over Harry's wild theories. Remus was certain that Voldemort wouldn't recruit inexperienced, young adults who were barely eighteen, but you knew he was wrong about that, especially considering he was recruited into the Order as soon as he was no longer a Hogwarts student.

Theo had not replied to a single letter; you'd sent countless over the small three week break.

Remus had yelled at Harry for making such harsh accusations, then had apologised not ten minutes later. It was a full moon after all, and he was still grieving over Sirius' death. Before that had sullied the peaceful evening, you confided in your old Professor before lunch had been served, who was more than willing to offer his profound wisdom to you.

"Sir? Can I-" you hesitate in the doorway of the Burrow's living room, feet teetering on the edge of the threshold, the smell of Mrs Weasley's cooking permeating the calm air. Before you could continue, Professor Lupin let out a hoarse chuckle and invited you to settle in the cushioned sofa next to him.

"I'm not your Professor anymore," he spoke your name softly, "please call me Remus."

"Okay sorry. Can I ask you something, Remus?"

"Of course. I'll try to help in anyway I can." his encouraging smile led to you spilling what was on your mind – he'd always been easy to confide in.

"I've been doing some extra reading on further subjects," you start, chewing on a hangnail on your thumb. "about- about siphons."

Remus stilled. If you weren't so nervous you would have narrowed your eyes in suspicion.

"What have you learned so far?" his response was slow and curious; carefully constructed.

"Well other than the fact that they don't draw magic from their cores...nothing. And every book in the library says the same thing." you let out a frustrated sigh and he seems to take pity on you.

"Siphons are extremely rare, which you know, of course." one of his hands cups his jaw contemplatively, as if he's choosing his words with careful precision. "That's why there's so little information, because there are very few people alive who have been able to record their true nature.

What we do know, is that siphons can completely draw out sources of magic into themselves; drain it to nothing to gain that power. They're very volatile in thats sense because no one knows how much power they can truely handle."

He gave no indication that he saw the way your flinched at his words. You were grateful for it.

"But surely harbouring that much power would be dangerous? Nature demands a balance." you say in a small voice.

He mumbles your name with a knowing look of understanding before patting your shoulder, indicating an end to the conversation but you still catch his parting words: "Look in the restricted section, in books about forbidden magical and mythical creatures and you'll find what you're looking for. Consult Professor Dumbledore too, it would be more useful than soley relying on my account."

"Thankyou sir- Remus." he leaves you there, chuckling quietly at your correction as he let you know that he'd see you at dinner later in the day. You're left infinitely more confused than before you initiated the conversation, but as you left through the opposite door that led to the bedrooms upstairs to find Ginny, you failed to see the curious eyes of you best friend, hidden under his cloak of invisibility.

~∞~

Something had changed over the holidays. The air around the castle was different; a dark, sinister energy permeating the comforting warmth that the magical wards usually bathed the castle grounds in. You didn't know how you felt the shift moreso than your friends. Maybe it was the January weather, or the fact that you missed the comfort of home, but you knew in your gut that things were different now. Your stubbornness didn't want to admit that it could be a result of your new abilities that hadn't shown since Katie Bell's incident.

It became evident in your patrol evenings with Theodore, too. He was withdrawn, sullen and constantly aggravated; if he bothered to show up at all sometimes. You knew what it meant and you kept this piece of information to yourself, lest it gave your friends one more reason for you to avoid the Slytherins.

But you made a promise; one that you wouldn't break.

The change was even more evident in your sessions with Mattheo. He was pushing you to your limit, and getting exceedingly frustrated with you, for no reason. He was angry at the world and at you, apparently.

After a considerably hard yank at your innermost thoughts, you shoved him out with a glare, which he returned tenfold.

"Okay. Ow? Why are you being so aggressive?" you snap, massaging your throbbing temples. He scoffed at you and moved to stand, beginning to pace.

"What? You don't think someone trying to infiltrate your mind won't be? Don't be so naive, I can see all your thoughts. Shut. Me. Out." He spat your name out like it was filth to him, and you suppose it was at one point in time. Pushing youself to stand, you make your way to him so you were chest to chest.

"What is your problem?" you question, narrowing your eyes at him as he stared back with deadly, onyx eyes. He scoffed and turned away from you, fingers rubbing at his temples as if this whole conversation was giving him a headache.

"It is giving me a headache." he spat and your glare intensified. "You're not focused, your mind is unraveling at the seams. It's like you haven't made any progress at all."

You startled him with the cold laugh that escaped you. "That's rich." you spat, your pointer finger digging into his strong chest. "You're a hypocrite Mattheo. You have been unfocused for the last week. So answer me this: what is your issue?"

In seconds he had you pinned against a wall that you hadn't noticed he had been backing you into, his breathing heavy and cold as ice. His hand was wrapped loosely around the base of your throat, not tight enough to harm but enough to pose a threat.

"You know nothing about me, Princess." his voice was a low and deadly rasp that sent coils of dread right down to the tips of your toes, but you couldn't deny the blatent arousal that was beginning to fester. "You know nothing, yet you're still willing to be in a room with me. Willing to let me do things to you that your friends would abhor you for. Willing to keep secrets from the very people you should trust with your life."

You cursed the flush in your cheeks, and the lust in your eyes.

"You've been dancing with the devil for months, sweetheart." his voice was a nocuous whisper as his lips grazed your's with controlled precision. The sharp feeling of his teeth piercing your bottom lip invaded all your senses along with the metallic taste of blood. "You should've expected that I'd behave as such."

He kissed you then, an art of carefully thought out distraction as he sucked on the wound he created. But he underestimated you as you raked your fingers through his unruly, dark curls. Wandlessly, wordlessly, you willed the Legillimens spell to take hold and you were thrust into his mind, barraging through his fortified shields as if they were mere shadows ready to be swept away.

You were thrown into a seat at an overly large dinner table, that could seat at least thirty people, Bellatrix Lestrange seated adjacent to the seat opposite you, causing you to flinch at the phantom feeling of her cruciatus curse from the Department of Mysteries. The room was vast, with a towering ceiling filled with delicate Jacobean decor, it was dark and foreboding; you didn't want to be here.

You were sat to the right of Death himself.

Voldemort didn't acknowledge you and the words he spoke were a garbled blur of nothing as your attention was brought to the back of the room, by the double doors to the Entrance Hall. Draco Malfoy walked in, followed by Lorenzo and....and Theodore.

The next moment made you want to scream and cry as Mattheo was forced to stand before his friends, before Voldemort's loyal followers who were a mere spillage of darkness to your vision, and tortured by his own father. Somehow this was more painful than the memories you'd seen of his in those first few lessons; knowing it had been as recent as the week before. You gaped as Voldemort merely turned to Enzo and Theo; you fought tooth and nail to stop the inevitable as you watched them writhe and scream as the Dark Mark appeared on their left forearms.

You were shoved so violently from his mind that your head collided painfully with the wall behind you. You were staring at him, wide eyed and wincing as he glared down at you, murderously.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't- I'm sorry." you tried to catch your breath, only now realising that the hold he had on your throat had tightened upon reflex. Your hands flew to the singular wrist that helf your life in his hands, clawing as it flexed. "Mattheo-"

You watched in understandable horror as a smirk painted his beautiful face. Your wrists continued their assault with renewed vigour.

"I'm very impressed." he mumbled, his face drawing closer to your's, his voice a sensual whisper in your ear. "No one has ever been able to do what you just did."

He pressed a kiss to the shell of your ear and you trembled as the hold he had on your throat did not let up.

"What are you going to do to me?" you whispered hoarsely, fear painting your tone. He snickered at your predicament and the tightness surrounding your throat lessened considerably, but he maintained a loose grip, a warning.

"I want to do unspeakable things to you, sweetheart." he said, his voice a reflection of the arousal that was pressing heavily against your abdomen. His smirk widened as you shuddered at the way he said your name. "I'd like to think that I'm an honourable man. And I want to do the honourable thing, but I've resisted you for far too long."

Weeks worth of avoidance came to head in that moment as he surged forward, finally pressing his lips to your's. You could taste cigarettes on his tongue and his cologne filled your lungs with every breathe you managed to gasp between heated kisses. The wound on your lip pulsed from the attention, the pain causing a whine to crawl up the back of your throat. The kiss deepened.

His hands roamed over your entire body; hips, waist, thighs. Like he didn't know where to settle them, while his body pressed you further into the wall with pure male strength – you wanted to climb him like a tree. Somehow you managed to pull away from his ministrations, heavy breath mingling with his.

"You're not angry that I just broke through your shields?" you ask with a furrowed brow. He only lets out a quiet laugh as he shakes his head, leaning down to suck on the sensitive skin of your neck, then soothing the marred skin with presses of his lips and swipes of his tongue. You breathed out an airy moan at the sensation, tilting your head back to grant him more access.

"A little miffed." he mumbled agaist your skin. "But not angry. No one has ever been able to do that, except you apparently. Smart girl."

He didn't speak for another minute or so, content with marking your smooth skin instead.

"I'm proud. These lessons are paying off, it seems." and you hear it in the tone of his voice, the pride. You respond with a stifled laugh as he bites into the sensitive flesh of your collarbone and you swat at his shoulders.

"You're always content in making my life difficult." you tut, but make no move to stop him as he begins to unravel the knot in your tie. "Do you know how long it takes to cover these up? With and without magic!"

"Don't want you to cover them up." he mumbles, so quietly that you almost miss it. But you don't miss the possessive gleam that ignited in his onyx eyes. "You're mine."

You're mine. The words echoed through every corner of your mind.

"Am I?" you challenge and you pull him closer to you as you weave the fabric of his tie through your fingers. He growls as he rips your school shirt in two, ignoring your admonishing protests as he pulls it from your body. This continues until your stood in nothing but your under garments.

"Beautiful." he mumbles as he traces featherlight touches down your body with his calloused hands. "Absolutely breathtaking."

"Well I don't think it's very fair that I'm the only one whose indecent." you snark, though your attempts at hiding your anticipation were rubbish at best.

"So undress me, darling." he says after a split second of reluctance, his voice low and demanding, it makes your thighs clench. Looking at him through dark lashes, you begin to unknot his tie, slow and teasing. The buttons of his shirt are next, popped one by one by your nimble fingers; when you raise to your tiptoes to smoothly remove his shirt from his shoulders he tenses as you come face to face with his lean, quidditch built torso.

That's when you see it. Ink black and imposing against his tanned, muscular forearm. Covered in thick scars, old and new, was the Dark Mark. Your breath hitched in your throat as you trailed your fingers lightly across it. Mattheo shivered at the feeling.

"Scared?" he asks, voice low, you almost detect a hint of shame...or something else.

"Of you?" you ask, taking his left hand in both of your's, fingers running soft circles across his palm. "No."

"You should be." he says it like he believes it to be true. His fingers flex in your hold and then tighten, squeezing your's in earnest.

"I'm scared for you, Mattheo. For all of you. This," your pointer finger trails against the Mark, "isn't fair."

He smiles at you then, all soft and sad and heartbreaking. "This is the life I've been dealt, love. No use in trying to stop it."

You brought his forearm level with your face and begin to press gentle kisses to his marred skin. His breath hitches and you can't place the look he gives you.

"You're not a monster." you mumble between soft caresses. "You're kind and intelligent, and compassionate and honourable. You've been dealt an awful card, yet you haven't let it ruin you. Not entirely. That says everything and more, Matty."

"Say that again." he says, onyx eyes staring resolutely into your's.

"Say what?" you ask, brows furrowed as he practically rips his arm from your hold, only to pull you closer to him by your waist. You both seem to realise that you're both near naked – only your underwear and his trousers separating the two of you. Your cheeks heat.

"My name. Say it."

"Make me." you say with a barely contained smirk. He lets out a near growl as he cups the back of your neck in his giant palms and presses a demanding kiss to your kiss-swollen lips.

It's not pretty. It's all teeth-gnashing and lip biting and purely animalistic.

You'd both been resisting eachother past blind fumbles in the dark and post-session make outs but you'd never been this exposed to each other before. It was exhilarating.

"Fuck!" he gritted against you. "You're so fucking pretty."

You whimpered against him as he sucked at your tongue, and that seemed to push him past his controlled limit. One of his hands guides your thigh to rest against his hip and he battles with his trousers to get them low enough to release his painfully hard cock.

You're not one to beg often, but your desire for the boy in front of you was too great to ignore. With a mewl and a whisper of pleas he pushed the fabric of your panties aside and pushed into you. The tightness and the pain of the action made you both groan in unison.

"Gods, sweetheart. You feel so much better than I imagined." he says against your lips as he pushes in to the hilt. He presses away the tears that fall from your eyes.

"Please move." you say as you attach your lips to his neck in an effort to stifle your moans as he begins at a slow pace, graciously letting you adjust to his size. He's bigger than anyone you'd had before him, the tip of him grazing places you didn't think was possible to reach. You were a mess of whines and moans as he adjusted you in his hold; letting out a shriek when he begins to repeatedly ram against a spot inside you that brought you immediate pleasure.

"Gods! Right there Matty, fuck....please!"

He smiles a wicked, sinister smile at you as he drags one moan after another from your lips. He takes both your hands into one of his and pins them above your head, restricting you to the wall.

"That's it, sweetheart." Mattheo rasps, revelling in the way you clench around him. "Moan my name."

His movements are precise and controlled. His pleasure deriving from the way he was making you come undone at the seams. He brings his free hand to the apex of your thighs, brushing them against your throbbing clit, smirking as his motion draws you closer to your orgasm.

You're not certain how long has passed since he entered you, but you feel like you're having an out of body experience as he rips an orgasm from you so suddenly that you don't know where the pleasure starts and ends.

You're a whimpering, moaning mess as he uses the extra slick to speed up his movements, which become erratic and lose their rhythm as he gets closer to his own release. The only sound to be heard are your soft whines, his grunts and the sound of skin slapping against skin as he finally reaches his own climax.

His forehead rests against your's, both gleaming with a light layer of sweat as you bask in the feeling of him. His dark brows furrow as you let out a soft laugh.

"What's so funny?" he asks, a light smile gracing his face as he memorises every inch of your skin.

"I think you just ruined me for anyone else." you say, breathless.

"Good." he growls, that possessive gleam in his eyes again as you feel him harden inside you. "As far as I'm concerned no one else can have you."

He's rolling his hips against your's before you can utter a snarky response.

~∞~

The next time you see Mattheo is in the Potions classroom the following day.

"How are you so good at everything you do, Meadow?" Ron grumbled as he read through the instructions of the healing potion Slughorn was making you all brew.

You had just finished an apparition lesson; by the end of the two hours, only you, Hermione, Mattheo's group of friends and a handful of others had managed to apparate from one side of the room to the hoop at the other. Harry and Ron were not part of that group.

"Well unlike you, Won-Won," Hermione sneered from across the table, "she takes pride in her academic accomplishments."

The redhead scoffed. "Mione come on-"

"Don't call me that." she snapped, going on a rant about Ron's incompetence. He only spluttered in response. You and Harry only exchanged uneasy looks as they continued arguing.

"I thought this would've ended by now." you say under your breathe as you drop in your next ingredient, huffing when it does the opposite of what it should. Harry mumbled his agreement as he completed his own potion. You looked between his and your's incredulously. "Why does your's look different to mine? Is it that book?"

You glared at him with pleading eyes and Harry huffed as he slid the Halfblood Prince's book so you could see. Your body ached as you read through the annotations. You winced as you rolled your neck to get rid of the tightness and Harry noticed your discomfort straight away.

"You okay, Meadow?" he asks, his hand gracing your shoulder blade. You both looked up at the sound of a knife clattering against a table top. Mattheo was glaring at the hand that Harry still kept on your shoulder, you huffed as you turned to your friend.

"Fine. Just sore from apparition lessons is all." you smiled reassuringly which seems to convince him as Harry removes his hand from you.

Faintly you hear Pansy question why Mattheo was acting so strangely and you try your hardest to ignore it. Until you couldn't any longer, because he was in your head.

Why the fuck was he touching you like that? His voice was a dark growl in your mind.

Wow possessive much? You reply with a mental scoff. He was asking if I was okay.

The agression in his tone softened and he sent a wave of concern your way. Are you? Okay, I mean? What's wrong?

You can't help the smile that paints your face, and you have to duck your head to hide it from your oblivious friends. I'm fine.

You can practically see as well as feel the look he gives you all the way across the room. You clearly aren't. Tell me what's wrong.

You look like you're about to incinerate the tabletop. I'm okay, Matty, really. Just sore. You curse him internally as he smirks wickedly, onyx eyes dancing with pride and hunger.

I'd gladly satisfy you again, darling. Just say the word.

You kick him from your mind, ignoring the flush that overtakes your heated face. Then you send flares of annoyance to him as you hear his snickering laughter that he barely conceals.

~∞~

when i was researching siphoner lore literally the only thing that came up was vampire diaries theories 😭😭😭

the smut took a different direction to what i intended tbh but i wanted to include some soft Matty 😅

taglist:

@camille-1019 @lovelyygirl8 @xluansstuff @babeylover @thejadeazalea @undercover-smutlover @adhxmoony @dreamingofonceuponatime @thepassionatereader @urmomsgayforme5 @aphroditeisamilf @devotedlycrookeddonut @purplegirls-posts @nofacenonamelikekira @foxboyapologist @lafrone @lovely-maryj @nromanovaswife @leeknows-wife @dracygf @wildlyobserving @ravenclawprincess33 @melllinaa @vellicora @lantsovheiress @emiliahoward @stunkbiggu @vcosette @prongsprincessworld @mattiesgirl @rachmmb @x-kermit-x @sun-fiower-seed @cas-planet @certaindreampost @weirdowithnobeardo @mikalovesicecream @sunasbbie @rainy-darling @faeriepigeons @lovely-blackinnon @topguncultleader @gimalo135 @elsafromcabinsix @moonlightreader649 @blueshome @nopedefe @spencerreidsthings @navs-bhat @agent-tempest @magimtz23

#mattheo x you #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo riddle #harry potter #serendipity series

[kentosbabes]

Pool time

Best friends older brother trope with Gojo (smutty af)

Gojo, your best friend’s older brother, fuck this is going against every girl code in the world. You grew up with them, your families were close so you spent every summer at their grandparents and they came with you on holiday. And to be fair, you never saw him like that anyways, that was until this summer. Usually, he’d be stuck in hisgaming with friends or outside playing basketball. You stayed with your mother for the first half of the summer, and you were invited to stay with their family for the rest as she had a holiday booked with your father and Gojo’s parents abroad. It was just like normal, except well it was evident that he had a really good summer.

Walking into the living room and dumping your bag on your best friends bed, you went to get a glass of water and some snacks to watch some tv with. But there he was, hair annoyingly perfect and my god did he have abs now? Sweaty, shirtless and glistening. You could’ve had an aneurism right there and then. “-n, Y/n?” Spaced out of course you did, “Hey! How have you been stranger?” He throws a signature smirk your way and did your stomach just flip flop?

This isn’t right, you should see him like a brother or at the very least a very platonic friend. You both conversant with each other, it was like no time had passed- he still teases you and you still get playfully annoyed at his dumb remarks. You explain the situation, that you’re staying here until both of your parents come back from their vacation. “Well, it’s good having you around it hasn’t been the same without you.” You couldn’t tell if he was flirting with you or just playing around.

Days turned into weeks, and your time at the Gojo house proved to be an adventure of its own. There was an unspoken tension between you and Satoru that made you confused the most. It was the late-night conversations on the rooftop, stolen glances across the dinner table, and playful banter filled the air. There was an undeniable magnetism pulling you and Satoru closer together, yet the fear of jeopardizing your friendship held you back.

With each passing day, the bond between you and Satoru grew stronger, and the line between friendship and something more became blurred. The forbidden desires that had remained dormant for years began to surface, igniting a flame that couldn't be extinguished.

One scorching afternoon, as you lounged by the pool, the heat seemed to intensify between you and Gojo. Your friend left to hang out with her boyfriend so it left the both of you to try cool down in the pool. Beads of sweat trickled down your temples as you watched Gojo emerge from the water, his toned physique glistening.

You shook your head, unable to tear your eyes away from him. The air was thick with an unspoken tension, and your heart raced in anticipation.

“Do you feel this? Tell me I’m not crazy,” he starts to swim closer to you, “We can’t do this, you’re my younger sisters friend,” Gojo is looking at your lips and deep into your eyes.

“Yes, you can, I’m eighteen and she doesn’t need to know and if she finds out she can get over it.”The heat is unbearable, the tips of your noses are touching and you’re breathing in synchronicity. “Fuck,” he pauses, “I guess we are.”

Closing the gap between your lips, kissing you in the pool, underneath the water, his fingers are already slipping inside the lining of your suit, long, insistent. “Gojo,” you plead.

Sitting on the edge of the pool step, you settle in his lap- your chest still underwater but your head available for his miscreants. As you settles over his lap, a growing bulge you pretend isn’t there, like his dick isn’t burying itself up in your skimpy suit. “Please, Gojo,” you whine, you start to ache- unconsciously grinding on him. “I gotta say, I love hearing you say my name like that.” Kissing your neck and bitting the love of your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re already wet for me right now, I can tell the difference between the slick your pussy makes and water.” He pulls the bikini bottom aside and his cock slides between your soft thighs, up against that wet flesh. Prodding. Teasing. Hard.

As he stretches you open, the initial thrust inside is slow and pleasantly sharp. He's big, shifting his hips slowly for you to take it all in. He feels unlike anyone you’ve ever been with; there's a sadistic edge to his slowness, dragging each stroke as if he wants to slide over every nerve in the tight confines of your cunt. “Fuck, I know you like this so let me hear it, she’s gone to the shops and won’t be back for a while.”

Moaning louder and whimpering his name like a mantra you listen well to his commands.

You gasp into his mouth, unconsciously raising your leg up to wrap around his waist as he supports you with his arm, your fingernails clawing at his shoulders as you feel yourself reach your high, the coil in your tummy snapping. Water rushes around your waists, splashes between your bodies, and you feels so warm, so weightless. Blissed out and fucked out.

“Gonna cum? I know you are I can feel it, it’s ok I’m right here, you can do it, don’t act like you don’t want me to fuck you even harder than this. You’re clenching and squeezing my fat dick that’s buried in your cunt, I’m right here babe. Come for me baby. ”

“Y/N? Gojo? I’m back! What’s up?” Your friend of five years asks, Gojo drapes his arms around you like he’s giving you a hug, innocent, friendly. “Nothing much, it was too hot in the house and we wanted a dip in the pool,” you quickly added.

“Ah, well I have an assignment that’s due tomorrow so I can’t join you but I put the ice cream in the freezer so feel free to get one.”

Gojo’s sister leaned in to theatrically whisper, “But if I catch you eating my Ben and Jerry’s cookies and cream ice cream I’ll kill you.” You shifted yourself further back into the pool to avoid her seeing what you two are doing, immediately regretting it because Gojo’s dick hit a spot that sent you a little haywire. Causing you to gasp. Your friend looked at you in concern, “Just stood on my foot wrong” reclaiming your composure.

Gojo started to rock his hips, pushing back into your soft body, ass bouncing against him underwater, before the door hushes over the frame again. Quietly shushing and grabbing a handful of your soft ass, squeezing and rubbing. He buries his fingers into your flesh till you feel that you’re going to be bruised. At this point, his cock is so hard that the friction of it inside of you makes you feel so full, that it’s so achingly deep. You cum fast and hard, ducking your head under the water and covering your mouth lips with his hand.

“We need to do that again. Fuck.” He whispers into your ear.

#kentosbabes #jjk headcanons #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk gojo #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo saturo #gojou satoru x you #gojo imagine #gojo satoru smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #satoru x reader #pool #poolsex #exhibition

[sisgotdemons]

Is it bad I just wanna suck Joel off with the highest chance of someone coming in on us? Just like, imagine it, ugh

Birthday Boy

Pairing || Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Summary || It's his day, of course you'd treat him well today.

Word Count || 1,227

Contents & Warnings || Fluff & Smut — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, explicit content/language, pet names (baby, hon/honey, sweetheart, good girl), oral (male receiving), teasing, face/throat fucking, spit/saliva, cum swallowing, getting caught, established relationship, ONE spank, 2 mentions of the word Daddy (said by Joel)

Disclaimer || This is my first ever fic, I'm sorry if it's not super good. I promise whatever comes next will be better!

It was Joel's birthday and you invited Tommy over to celebrate with you and Sarah, forcing him to stay home for the day. It's not that he hated to celebrate his day, he was usually busy with work and came home late.

"How old are you again, old man" you hear from the living room, followed by a chuckle from Tommy.

"If you think 28 is old, I'm scared about what you think in 20 years, hon'," you say walking back in the living room with two bowls of popcorn, placing them on the coffee table and sitting right next to your birthday boy.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Joel says while wrapping an arm around you and placing a peck on your temple. Your relationship with Joel has been amazing for the past 2 years. When thinking back about it, you've got thank Sarah and her boldness to get her father into the dating scene. Who's daughter would slip her own dad's number to the local dinner waitress? Only in the Miller household, that's for sure.

"Movie in? What we watching again?," Tommy leans over his niece on the floor, grabbing a beer set there only a few minutes ago, Sarah replies, "Men in Black 2." as she wipes down the liquid ring caused by the beer bottle. "Learn to use a coaster next time, please"

"Ok ok, just play the damn thing. I wanna see if this is better then the original," he said before taking a swig of beer. You all sit comfortably, Tommy and Sarah huddled together on the floor and you and Joel cuddling together. You look up at him, admiring his facial features, wondering how he didn't notice his own beauty. He feels your stares and looks down at you and places his forehead against yours before placing a hand on your thigh and facing back to the screen.

There's about a quarter left of the movie now. Sarah had fallen asleep against Tommy, who's starting to feel the effects of the couple of beers. "I'm heading up, want me to take this one too?," he says looking up at the couple on the couch, "I'll tuck her in and whatever."

"Yeah that's fine Tommy, thank you," you say while smiling at the two on the floor, watching him pick up the sleeping teen, struggling for a second, then walking up the steps. Soft groans and a "Shh, it's fine, just me" can be heard faintly going up the steps.

You and Joel are left alone on the couch and the sequel playing in front of you. Placing a hand on his lap, you lean up and kiss his jaw. "Did you have a good birthday, my love?"

Joel chuckled and pulled you onto his lap, hands placed on your hips, "Of course I did, I always enjoy the quality time we spend, together as a family," he then leans forwards towards your ear whispering, "and when we're alone," followed by a playful smack on your ass.

"Uh, you nasty old man," you jokingly gasped out, lightly hitting Joel's chest. He let out a hearty laugh, both hands now on your ass, "Well this 'old man' loves you and everything you do, baby."

You place your hands on his chest, rubbing softly against the button down he wore. You sit in silence for awhile until you break it.

“Do you want me to suck your dick?”

Your words almost gave him whiplash, eyes blinking furiously as he had a confused and intriguing expression on his face.

“Right now?”

“Yeah dummy, right now.”

“Where did this come from, pretty girl?” His lips turned up in a smirk at the thought of you sucking him off right here on the couch.

“Maybe I'm just in the mood to suck your dick. So do you want me to or not?," you say smirking.

“Fuck, you know I could never resist your offer, baby.” His hand reaches up to your mouth, thumb caressing your lips, thinking about them wrapped around him, making his cock twitch. You reach down and grabbed his covered bulge and palmed him in your hand. The idea of sucking him off had his cock hardened.

“What about Sarah and Tommy, sweetheart? What if they come back down?”

“Well, you need to be my eyes and ears, old man, because I’ll be too busy with your pretty dick in my mouth.”

He groaned in anticipation when you got up and made yourself comfortable on your knees, peering up at him through your thick lashes. Quickly, you pulled his jeans and boxers down, his hard dick springing into view, making you lick your hungry lips.

His hand petting your head lovingly gave you the encouragement you needed to have at him.

You licked his tip, collecting the bead of pre-cum that was forming on it. The feeling of your tongue on him and the risk of getting caught had him groan out.

He pushed your head on his cock, becoming slightly impatient. He wanted to feel your wet and tight mouth rubbing against him. When he was in your throat, he groaned out in satisfaction, his eyes closing in bliss.

You sucked him off like your life depended on it, slurping and moaning around his cock. Your mouth and hand worked together to bring him towards the edge. You released his length for a moment with a pop and spat on him, watching your saliva trickle down his heavy cock, making you hungry for more.

"Fuck baby, you're doing so damn good. Sucking Daddy's cock so good," he says hand gripping your hair, encouraging you to take him deeper once again.

You took him all the way to the back of your throat again, making your eyes water. The light gagging made him shiver on the spot. You pushed through the slight discomfort, wanting to make him feel as good as possible.

He fucked your mouth hard, saliva dripping down your chin with each force of his hips. “So pretty and messy for me, baby.” He was in awe as he watched you take each inch of him. He was a little over average size, yet was thick enough to make your jaw hurt in the best ways.

“Ah, fuck,” he leaned his head back while shutting his eyes tight, “I'm gonna come.”

A thrust or two more, and he was shooting his hot cum down your throat, some coming out from the sides of your mouth. You continued to bob your head on him until he was done spilling every single drop.

“Show me,” he moaned, tugging you off of his softening dick. You showed him your empty mouth, tongue stuck out with no trace left of him in your mouth.

"Such a good girl for me. Knows exactly how to treat her Daddy," he groans while taking his free hand and rubbing your cheek, causing you to lean into his touch.

"Open that pretty mouth again for me, my love." You follow his orders opening your mouth allowing him to spit in your empty cavity and without being told to, you swallow happily.

"Hey lovebirds, next time ya'll are havin' fun, invite me yeah?" You look up in the direction of the stairs, hearing the other male voice in the house chuckle. "If you don't, just keep it down next time."

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #the last of us smut

[ashthemadwriter-archived]

"Either I'm insane or you were just masturbating in our living room"

"Open your mouth for me baby"

"Do you know what happens when you misbehave?"

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairing: Fyodor X Fem!Reader

Request: "HIIII I'm here for your September event ! God, I hope it's not too late and you'll take my request (and I hope you're having a good day). So I'll like 17, 1 and 5 with Fyodor. If it is possible a Fyodor... Not very nice, you know, a little psycho. OK it's weird, I hope you will accept T-T Have à great day !!" ◜By dear @concombre-2-mer ◞

Genre: Smut

Format: Fic

Warnings: Explicit smut, Porn with a plot, Orgasm denial, Yandere themes, Toxic relationship, Mean dom!Fyodor, Sub!Reader, French!Reader(Just pretend that you're French if you aren't lol), Lovesick!Reader,Heavy degrading, Praising, Slapping, Choking, Spitting, Dacryphilia, Fingering, Vaginal penetration, Pet names(Dear, Darling, etc), Name calling(Slut, whore, etc), Dirty talk, MDNI, Dark content dead dove do not eat

Word Count: 4.4K (I KNOW)

A/n: Ahhhh this took so long I am very, very sorry. Also, I hope I reach your expectations lol.

Fyodor Dostoevsky, a complicated, brilliant, dangerous man, with so many plans in his head.

You met him at a ball where your dad, the most powerful senator of France, was the host, and he was one of the VIP guests. The second your eyes caught a glimpse of the raven-haired man, your heart missed a beat. It wasn't just about his looks- although you could never overlook how attractive he was. It was the way he calmly witnessed everything and talked in a nice but also careful manner, or perhaps how he smiled elegantly while looking at other people blabbering, like he knew all their intentions inside out- which you found out later that he actually did; nothing can escape this mans sharp eyes.

Whatever the reason was, he had you fascinated by him from the very beginning.

You made the not-so-wise decision to approach him and start a casual conversation, which only made you more curious about this mysterious, fetching man. Your discussion that was supposed to be a short chit-chat lasted for hours, but it couldn't be any other way. You had the same interest, the same likes, the same taste in literature; it was nice having someone who understood what you were talking about and didn't look at their clock every ten seconds as company; nice, and rare.

When the party was over and Fyodor walked you to your room as the gentleman he was, he couldn't miss the hints of lust in your eyes, and how you were looking at him so desirably, hoping he would step inside the bedroom and spend the night with you; but all you got was a kiss goodbye on your cheek and a formal farewell.

That night you couldn't sleep. Between all the tossing and turnings, you thought about the ball. How you found the perfect guy, spent the whole event with him while others were laughing and drinking at the buffet, and how you got rejected in the end. Maybe he was just playing with you after all; just to get information about your father and to take advantage of you, like everybody else had done. He was never interested in you in the first place.

You were wrong.

Not about the information part. He did got the information he wanted through his intellectual methods and you carelessly gave it all away; but for the first time in his life, Fyodor found himself curious about someone, for reasons that weren't involved with his work. He didn't care about your father and his political status anymore, he wanted to know about you; which explained why your phone was ringing with an unknown number showing up on the screen the day after the event.

He asked you to give him a tour around the city and to accept his invitation to a lovely dinner as a thank you gift, and you accepted without giving it a second thought.

Nothing happened that night either.

You were frustrated. Everything was going great, he even smiled at your funny remarks a few times- actually, he was smiling the whole time, examining your expressions with a vague look on his face. But the second you arrived at your home, he was gone again, rejecting your offer to come inside for "a cup of coffee".

Who was this man? Why did he kept doing this? He was not someone you could read his mind easily, you had no idea what was going on through his head; all you knew was that you'd only known this man for two days, and you're already obsessed with him.

Given how many times he had humiliated you, it was stupid to accept his offer for another date the day after again, but you weren't really thinking anymore.

Just like that, you kept going on small dates with each other every night, and he kept refusing to come inside each time; but you were happy that you got to spend time with him; you could always open yourself on your fingers pretending that they're his afterwards. You could see a future for yourself with this man, living in a fancy house together. He would read to you when your head is on his lap, take a bubble bath with you in the bathtub, you could even get yourself a cat. A baby would be nice too, if Fyodor would be down for that...

Little did you know, you were digging yourself into a bottomless hole, which you'll never be getting out of.

Fyodor had the same thoughts as you.

You were so sweet, so kind and lovely. He liked it that you were actually smart, but lost all your senses when it came to him. You were sweetly stupid and it made his heart clench every time he had to drag his feet out of your alley to head back to his empty, cold apartment alone, but it was all part of his plan, and the only key to it was patience, because he needed to make you desperate, to the point that you would kneel and accept everything he tells you to, not needing to be told twice.

And it happened. You found yourself to be at Fyodor's beck and call, agreeing to his every word without putting much thought to it; Even when he asked you to run away with him.

You were skeptic of course; not enough to reject his offer, but you needed to hear him saying it was ok, it was the right thing to do. And he did, assuring you that your parents would never let you come with him if you tell them beforehand, that it's the only option you've got left and you will eventually visit them after a while.

How could you refuse when he was the one asking?

You didn't hear anything from your parents until a few days later, when the tragic accident of fire that had devoured the home of the great senator and the occupants alive got all over the news.

You haven't seen Fyodor for over one week.

Months have passed since the "accident" and your so called "get away", but things have gotten worse, if even changed slightly. You've been kept in a small apartment ever since, and haven't caught a glimpse of the sun for so long, not even through the windows.

Fyodor said it's for your own good, that people who killed your family are after your blood and you need to stay somewhere he can protect you, but you're not sure if sealing the windows are really related to that. You don't have a key to the apartment, even to the rooms; Fyodor has set many ground rules of things you should and should not do, and it's frustrating.

Your patience knows limits, and it might already be at it.

You're lying in front of the TV, with a bowl of ice cream in your hand, looking at some romantic movie in your own language. You watch the people laughing, dancing, making love, but the only thing you feel is one single emotion.

Envy

You're envious of other people. How they go on fancy dates and end up fucking in a public bathroom, while you haven't even kissed Fyodor yet. You don't have the faintest idea why he asked you to come with him in the first place. That's what Fyodor does to you, always keeping you in the dark and only coming back when he decides it's the right time.

Him, not you. Your opinion does not matter one single bit.

Sighing, you turn the TV off and put the empty bowl on the table. You're already way too depressed, you don't need to see other people's happiness and regret about your own choices.

But that's the problem. You don't regret anything. You don't regret taking Fyodor's hand when he offered you a dance at that part, you don't regret spending time with him and having wet dreams about him at nights, you don't regret agreeing to come to this place;

you even know that he was the one who slaughtered your entire family, but you decide not to think about anything other than him because sometimes, ignorance is a bliss.

As you lean back to the couch, you wonder where your boyfriend- if you can even refer to him as that, is right now. What might he be doing? Is he planning another murder? Is he on a date with another poor woman to manipulate her, use her and then just throw her away like she's worth nothing? Is he holding her hand and whispering sweet promises about the future to her?

Ah, you just remembered.

His hands.

Fyodor has long, skinny hands and stretched, pale fingers. You admire the way his veins lay bare under his skin when he holds a coffee mug or writes a letter. His nails are always cut shortly, exhibiting his smooth skin and how he takes care of them. His hands are cold, not at a shivering state but cold enough for you to offer him your gloves, or just hold them to warm them up.

God, you can't wait to hold his hands again, and to feel them inside you once he finally gets around to it.

Sliding your hand in your pants, you close your eyes and imagine how his fingers would curl up and massage your sweet spot, dragging pleasure outside of your cunt. Will he be gentle, taking his time, making love to you? Or is he the kind to be rough and would make you scream his name by the end of the night? It's your call, since this is all an illusion and he isn't actually here.

Fyodor hates masturbation. He told you that once you brought the topic up on one of your dates. He thinks that it's pathetic, useless, and offending to a person's partner, But Fyodor isn't here; it's only you and your pitiable moans filling the room.

You whisper his name as you scissor yourself open on fingers that are actually supposed to be his, but unfortunately, they're attached to the pathetic body of yours. Tears find their way out of the corner of your closed eyes, staining your cheeks, and you wish he was here to wipe them off your face, plant a kiss on your forehead and say how well you're doing for him.

I miss you so much, Fedya…

You feel getting closer to your orgasm as your fingers speed up, but the sensation isn't nice, not as much as it would be when he's the one helping you out; yet this is all you're going to get for now, so you shouldn't complain and just take it.

With a cry out of his name, you come. Arousal covers your fingers and you have no choice but to clean them up with your mouth. Your whole body stings and you just lie there, panting and half way through crying. What would he do if he was here? Would he scold you? Punish you? Or say something like...

"What are you doing?"

Until a few minutes ago, you thought that when he comes back, you'll jump into his arms, kiss his face over and over while telling him how much you've missed him, and that he should bring you along with him everywhere he goes; but now that he's actually here, you just want this to be a mirage.

It isn't.

You desperately open your eyes and tilt your head toward the doorway, only to look at the tall man standing there through your blurry vision.

Fyodor is as handsome and terrifying as ever. There's a bouquet of roses in his hand, and he's wearing his usual outfit, an Ushanka and a black cloak. Everything looks the same as ever, except for the look on his face.

You expect him to be angry, to shoot daggers your way; but through the violet shades of his penetrating eyes, you find another emotion; one that intimidates you more than his anger and sends shiver down your spin.

Disappointment.

You stay silent and keep staring at his figure with widened eyes. Fyodor doesn't scold you. After a few seconds, he slowly walks toward you and places the roses on the table, standing next to the couch.

"May I take a seat?"

You want the ground to swallow you whole.

"S-sure, do as you wish"

He calmly makes himself comfortable on the couch, while you nervously curl yourself up against your side. Feeling like you need to explain yourself, you want to say that it's not what it looks like, but you know you would only tie yourself up in knots. Besides, it's exactly what it looks like, and Fyodor isn't stupid.

With an expressionless face, he points at the flowers on the table.

"These are for you"

Roses are your favorite type of flowers. Sitting there with your legs crossed and your arms wrapped around your shins, you sense his thoughtful gesture to be a slap in the face. Guilt and fear makes your heart ache yet you don't have the guts to start crying again.

You didn't want him to come back. Not like this.

"Ah, thank you..."

He couldn't have heard you since you mumbled so quietly, but he's got sharp ears. You look unsure when you stretch your arms out to pick the flowers up, but when you sniff them, your face brightens up with delight.

"They are lovely"

"So, care to tell me why you were calling out for me like that?"

He's not going to let it slide, is he?

"Nothing. Where have you been?"

"Answering my question with another one? I see"

While you struggle to breath, he takes his Ushanka off and places it between you, and all you do is watching him carefully for a reason you're unaware of yourself, but he probably is, since he's a mine of information and knows every twist and turn of your brain.

"To answer your question, I could say I was tying up a few loose ends. But fill me in, dear; was I hallucinating earlier? Because, either I'm insane or you were just masturbating in our living room"

You open your mouth to say something, anything, but words seem to have been erased from your mind and your tongue doesn't roll in your mouth as it did before. When he doesn't hear a response, he flashes you a pitying look and shakes his head.

"No comeback? You're not even denying it"

How long was he standing there anyway? Was he there from the beginning? Because god, if he was then you don't want to face him ever again.

"You know dear, I thought that we should wait until we were in a better place; but if you're so eager... I shouldn't keep you waiting for so long"

Ah, what?

When he catches you staring at him, like you're unable to believe your ears, he merely smirks; standing up and taking the direction to your bedroom.

"Aren't you coming, sweetheart?"

"I'm... coming..."

You don't have a clue of what is going on, still, you've waited for this moment from the year dot; you won't be letting it pass this easily.

As you enter the bedroom, the sight of Fyodor taking his cloak off catches your eye. He takes a peek at you from the corner of his eye, only to find you standing next to the wall awkwardly.

"What are you waiting for? Get undressed"

"...Ok"

Stripping out of your clothes, you feel slightly embarrassed when your whole body is exposed to him for the first time, and his eyes scanning you up and down are not exactly helping.

Fyodor pauses a little, like he wants to say something but he's not sure if he should; then looks you in the eye.

"Get on the bed"

You obediently listen to his demand and lie down on the bed, getting excited when he follows you to hover on top of you. He gently cup your cheek with his hand, and cracks a smile.

"I don't think I've ever told you how pretty your eyes are, Darling"

You blush at his sincere comment that gives you enough courage to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down a little so that your lips are only inches apart. The idea of you initiating the kiss doesn't even cross your mind; Fyodor is the one in charge and he has to have control over everything. Thankfully, he's kind enough to not push you away this time, playing along by attaching his lips to yours, kissing you passionately. And you kiss him back with so much desire and longing, like you did every night before going to sleep in your imaginations. You won't be doing that anymore, now that you have the real thing.

Not only Fyodor doesn't stop you when he senses your hands on his body, trying to unbutton his shirt, he even helps you out with some of them. You smile into the kiss when you feel a certain "something" pressing against your core, which doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"You sure get cocky, But I don't blame you dear; you certainly taste nice"

"Mhm... Touch me more, Fedya"

The mans face breaks into a mischievous grin. He places his hand on your collarbone, lightly rubbing it with his thumb.

"You want me to touch you more, Darling? Where do you want me to touch you?"

His hand roams down on your body, until it reaches to your boobs, And cups one of them.

"Here? or..."

You let his limb wander on your body, thrill taking over you as you anticipate where its destination might be. A soft moan skips your lips when he finally cups your womanhood, fingers teasing your clit.

"Maybe here? Hmm?"

"Fedya…"

"Yes, honey?"

You look at him with plead through your dewy eyes.

"Stop teasing and just give it to me, ok? I've been waiting for so long..."

Fyodor briefly examines your face and his small slowly fades away. You feel shaken by his sudden change of mood, wondering if you said something wrong.

"I will; but, do you think you deserve to be touched? You looked like you were having so much fun with your own hands back then"

As his gaze pierce through your soul, you find yourself to be in dire straits. Despite the position you're currently in, you know you should rack your brain and say something acceptable, or else you won't see the light at the end of the tunnel, or even tomorrow anymore.

"I'm... Really sorry about that... I guess I was just under so much pressure, you looked like you weren't attracted to me and you were gone for a quite amount of time... But It won't happen again, You have my word. I really am sorry"

As you wait for him to react to your genuine confession, his stare becomes more gentle, a ghost of a smile appearing on his lips.

"I know you are Darling, I know you are"

His fingers lightly rub circles on your clit to make your mind go numb while he deeps his face in the place between the pillow and your ear, making you shiver every time his lips brush against your earlobe.

"Tell me y/n; which feels better? My hand or yours?"

You choke a moan out as his digits slide inside with the help of the arousal from your lewd activity earlier. They are longer than your fingers; longer, professional, and more importantly, they belong to him.

"Y-yours of course, Fedya"

"Good girl. That's what I thought"

Fyodor doesn't hurry anything. His moves are calculated, and with each shove, his fingertips hit just the right spot. As you whine and hold him closer, you think about something more exciting. When he can make you feel this good only using his fingers, god helps you when he unzips his pants and opens you up on his probably lengthy cock...

Which makes you brave enough to ask him, because if he fingers you for a little longer, you'll probably come and the chance to make him feel good will slip away from your hands.

"Fedya honey..."

"What is it, Love?"

"I need to feel you inside me"

His smile looks dazzling.

"Aren't I already inside you, dearest?"

"You know what I mean!"

Pulling his fingers out, you almost regret asking him to do so, but you try to comfort yourself since he's gonna stuff you with something better and you won't be feeling empty for long.

"Alright then; but first, open your mouth for me baby"

Deeming he probably wants to clean his digits up, you part your lips to help him out, but instead of fingers, he leans closer and abruptly spits in your mouth. You're stunned, but you still swallow it down your throat under the proud look in his eyes.

"So perfect for me, Myshka. Now, lie down and relax. Let me handle things from this point"

As if he wasn't already.

You can't believe your eyes when he uncovers his member from his pants. It's not the thickest cock, but the length is definitely quite something.

Fyodor smirks as he catches you staring. He adjusts himself on your entrance and casts an eye on your expression.

"Does my darling like what she sees?"

"Yeah..."

"I bet you'll like it more when I'm fucking your cunt"

Yeah, no shit.

With a bright groan, he pushes himself into your hole. Your pussy is slick enough to devour his dick, but also tight enough to send pleasure his way. He has a breather before thrusting in and out you, find the steady rhythm and the perfect place to hit inside, making your eyes roll at the back of your head.

While Fyodor does everything, holds you in place, sucks hickeys on your neck and rubs your right nipple with his fingers, all you do is whine, hug him tightly and hover your legs over his back. You would've felt disturbed by how cold his body was; but you don't feel troubled, not even the slightest bit. There is no way you would feel like that when he makes you feel so warm inside. Its not just about fucking- it's about him, coming back to you, to understand the pain you went through, and make the most memorable night as a reunion. In this cold bed, you find your body and your heart getting warmed up by this Russian man's love and affection.

Fyodor fastens his pace at plunging in your pussy, meanwhile his tongue rolls around on the sensitive spot on your neck. It's unbelievable how he knows your body like the back of his hand while this is the first time he gets to lay a hand on you. You don't know whether to moan at his cock pounding inside your tight cunt, or at how he doesn't stop marking you up as his belonging.

"A-ah... Fedya… I'm getting close..."

"I can feel it, love. C'mon darling, Come for me. Show me how much you like it when I make love to you"

His praises send you over the edge. You feel so close, this unholy feeling is so addictive and you never wanna let go. Your body is firing up, you start shaking and you're only a little away from your release; which you'll surely get there soon, with Fyodor whispering sweet things in your ear.

"You're doing so good, Milaya…"

"So pretty for me, sweetness"

"Come for me, baby"

"Come for me, beautiful"

"Come for me"

"Come for me"

"Come for me"

You are literally on the verge of breaking apart on his cock, one second away from releasing all over him and make a mess out of his lower abdomen. You close your eyes and ready to feel the orgasm wash over your stress and sorrow and make you complete again; but in a split second, you feel a tremendous amount of pain, due to the sudden emptiness of your hole.

You feel miserable when Fyodor's length leaves your orgasm undone, and when you open your eyes to know the reason, you're met with the emotion you were searching for not so long ago.

There's the anger and daggers he was saving from your stare, to let them appear at the right time.

Now.

"Do you think you deserve to come, y/n?"

All the warmth you were feeling a while ago, all the heat and certainty was gone; now it's only fear and pain, germinating in your heart, making your chest ache.

His look is dangerous. It's not just anger. It's everything. Fury, disappointment, disgust. For the first time since you met Fyodor, you feel so scared, to your fingertips.

His grip around your throat snaps you back into reality.

"I'm talking to you, slut. Do you think you deserve to come? After what you were doing on my couch, shamelessly touching yourself like some common whore?"

You don't say anything. You can't. You can't even breath. You can't even if he let's go of your throat. You just want to die.

"Ungrateful little bitch. You're so full of yourself. So needy and pathetic. It grosses me out. What do you want me to do? To treat you like the princess you are? To turn a blind eye to your scandalous behavior and make your every wish come true? You think you're still in your daddy's house?"

"N- no- no- I- no-"

His hand finally let's go of your throat, but just as you're about to gasp for breath, his palm lands on your cheek.

"Don't talk back to me. I didn't give you permission to talk yet"

You only stare at him with disbelief, unaware of the tears that have been falling from your eyes from the moment his attitude changed.

It was never about you.

Never about affirming you.

Never about comforting you.

From the very first moment Fyodor set foot in the house, he came to torture you.

"Do you know what happens when you misbehave, precious?"

He knew what you were doing. He has always known.

And yet, you love him with every inch of your soul. With every breath coming out of your lungs.

"Worthless woman. I should throw you out in the streets, where you belong to. You'll die eventually, if some guy doesn't rip your throat apart. Is that what you want, woman? You want freedom? Help yourself! Get out of my sight and never come back again"

"No! I'm sorry! I won't ever do that again! I promise- !- Please! Please- I swear- Please believe me, Fedya!"

Another slap, landing on your other cheek.

"Don't say my name with that filthy, disgusting mouth of yours. Know your place"

You don't say anything anymore. As he keeps stabbing you with heartbreaking words, you only sob and bite your bottom lip so that your whimpers wouldn't interrupt him.

Fyodor looks at your pathetic state, and clicks his tongue. He gets up and picks his clothes from the ground, shooting a warning glare at you.

"Now, I want to see you try to masturbate again"

And with that, he leaves you in the bed, shattered into pieces.

It will never be about you,

And you hate yourself for not hating this, until the day you die.

All rights reserved © 2023 AshTheMadWriter. Please do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works on any platform.

#ashthemadwriter's smutember event #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd imagines #bsd scenarios #yandere bsd #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs smut #fyodor x reader #fyodor x y/n #fyodor x you #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #fyodor dostoevsky smut #fyodor smut #fyodor imagines #fyodor scenarios #yandere fyodor #yandere Fyodor Dostoevsky #yandere fyodor x reader #AshTheMadWriter

[half-oz-eddie]

After Max snuck off one day, Steve brings her home right before Neil and Susan return.

Billy gives her and Steve shit about it on the porch, freezing up when Neil's car pulls into the driveway.

He notices the way Neil's normally hard and intimidating stare softens upon seeing Harrington in front of their house.

He greets him, shakes his hand, makes polite small talk with him and invites him in for dinner.

Steve glances over at Billy, noticing how he rolled his eyes and he politely declines.

"I really shouldn't—"

"I insist." Neil goads him, gently pushing him inside and leading him to the table. "Susan's cooking is divine."

Billy groaned. Of course, Steve was the golden boy everyone adored, even his own father. What was so perfect about him anyway?

Billy is imagining he can shoot lasers from his eyes at Steve, and Steve can feel the intention coming from Billy's glares.

He plans to leave early, but Neil offers him dessert, offers him a beer, asks if he wants to stay and watch the game.

Why the fuck's this guy being so nice to Steve?

Because the Harrington name holds so much prestige in Hawkins? Because it can help him get a promotion? What? What the fuck is it? It can't just be because of Steve.

Billy notices that Steve feels really awkward, but he's always been taught to be polite, so he does what any golden boy would do. He stays, he accepts Neil's kindness, he answers questions when asked.

Of course, Neil brings up Mr. Harrington, asking about his company and how it's doing.

His question seems really motivated and Billy's pissed off to the point of no return. He stands, politely excusing himself to his room.

"Don't you wanna watch the game, son?"

Son...?

Who in god's name was he talking to? Not me, Billy assumed.

Why was his voice so soft and his eyes so warm? That wasn't Neil. That wasn't Sir. Billy was afraid of this version of Neil and that warm smile that showed the crow's feet beside his beady, lying eyes.

Billy slowly sat back down next to Steve.

"Billy used to love baseball."

No I didn't.

"He lost interest. He's much better at basketball. Aren't you boys on the same team?"

"Yes, sir, we are." Steve nodded. "He's really good."

Neil laughed. "That's my boy."

What?! Am I in an alternate universe?

When the fever dream of a night ended, Neil told Billy to walk Steve to his car.

"Uh...See you at school?" Steve said uncertainly.

"Yeah." He watched Steve get into his car and walked back into his house.

Neil's warm, fake smile was gone, along with that soft welcoming voice.

It was all a facade, just as he'd assumed.

Neil ordered him to do the dishes, including Steve's. Nothing disgusted him more than cleaning up after Steve.

To make matters worse, this became a constant. Neil was letting Max's nerdy friends come over and Steve would pick them up, then circle back for dinner or a beer with Neil.

Neil would insist on including Billy, bragging about how strong, or how bright Billy was, bringing up the days in California, the very few good ones.

It pissed Billy off, but the nights Steve would come over, there was no shouting, no beatings and Neil was...nice.

Billy started passing notes to Steve at school, inviting him over, especially on Sundays so he didn't have to deal with Neil's bullshit on his day off.

At first, Steve would keep Neil out of Billy's hair, but then, Steve stopped by Billy's room to ask him why he always invited him over if he didn't wanna hang out.

"I thought maybe Neil'd like hanging out with you."

"So you invited me over to keep your dad company? Why don't you just hang out with him?"

"Because we don't get along. He's...he's not always like that." Billy quietly mumbled, hoping Neil didn't suddenly develop super hearing.

"Oh." Steve slowly shut the door. "So that's why you keep inviting me over?"

Billy shrugged.

"Well, Max told Dustin, and Dustin told me that your dad beats the hell out of you, that true?"

Billy's body tightened up and he went dead silent. "The fuck do you care?" He snapped.

"It's not cool." Steve sat on the floor across from Billy. "I don't wanna come here and keep hanging out with your dad. I kinda thought we were hanging out. That's why I would stay."

"You...wanted to hang out with me?" He skeptically narrowed his eyes.

"Yeah. I've been hoping we could get along for a change. I didn't know you were just using me to keep your dad out of your hair."

"I—I didn't think you'd wanna hang out with me. I thought you liked hanging out with Neil."

Steve laughed. "I don't hang out with old people."

"Yeah, you hang out with little kids instead."

"Shut up, I'm their babysitter. Those little shits are always getting into some kind of trouble."

"Whatever. So...d'you wanna like...hang...now?"

Steve nodded without hesitation. "Yeah. That's why I come here in the first place."

"You like Metallica?"

"No."

"Mötley Crüe?"

"Not really."

"Surfing?"

"Eh. Not really any beaches around."

Billy scoffed, shaking his head in disapproval. "The hell do you like?"

Steve pointed to a deck of cards on Billy's dresser. "Know how to play War?"

"Vaguely." Billy shrugged before grabbing the deck and handing it to Steve.

They played a few rounds of cards before they were laughing and shit-talking into the late hours of the night.

Neil didn't disturb them at all.

Dedicating this to @mangywayway since you're always being so kind when I'm feeling down. Tysm ❤️

#neil hargrove tw #abuse tw #harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington

[hellishjoel]

burning desire

10.3k // pairing:dbf/neighbor!joel x f!reader

Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3

summary: An argument with your mother before family dinner leaves Joel worried about you. He sneaks you away to grab a drink and talk about what’s on your mind. 

warnings: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, dbf/neighbor!joel, soft-hot-protective!joel, rocky mother-daughter relationship (this one ain't for the weak - mommy issues galore) & discussions of verbal fighting, slight clues of abandonment issues, smut, swearing, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel in his 40s), pet names, praise!kink activated, unprotected p in v (yes finally, the edging is over), mentions of birth control,  slight cockwarming if you squint, slight degradation kink

A/N: I crave three things after writing this chapter: Joel, Joel Miller, Joel fucking Miller. Also, I’m almost done with The Last of Us Part 1 :(( sad that it’s ending, but it’s been so much fun to play! Enjoy this chapter <3 

Your parents make good on their invitation and ask Joel over for dinner. A steak dinner, to be exact. Paired with wine, mashed potatoes, green beans, and a pie your parents picked up from the local bakery in town. 

You sort of hope Joel pulls out his long list of excuses to evade any awkwardness. 

Sorry, can’t tonight. I’m finishin’ up somethin’ for work. Can’t wait another day. 

Or,

Hey, maybe another night. Not feelin’ too hot. 

When in reality, it’s more like, 

I can’t come over for dinner tonight because I might bend your daughter over my truck if I see her again. 

As active as you and Joel have been, you have yet to hit a home run in lewd baseball terms. In fact, all the bases in your and Joel’s game were totally screwed up. You hit third base before you hit first, and you weren’t even sure if there was a second base. It was all just so confusing now. 

But you wanted the home run, you wanted Joel, you desired him in that light. You wondered if he was ready for it. 

Screwed over by your father asking Joel over for dinner and screwed over by Joel agreeing, you had no other choice but to sit through it and act like everything was normal. 

And everything was normal for the first half of the day before you and your mother got into it. 

The argument was recycled. You wished she would come up with better material. But it always came down to what you wanted to do after this summer since you recently graduated. And that was an ongoing war. 

After two door slams, your mother retreating to her bunker, and you finding shelter in the bathroom, you’d say today’s battle was over. 

You sit on the floor, bare feet touching cold tile. In a way, it soothes your shaky body. 

No matter how old you get, this feeling never seems to waver with its intensity. The feeling that no one’s listening, no matter how hard you scream for them to hear you. Regardless of how often you have these conversations, you become a small child again, being scolded and told that what you thought and wanted wasn’t right. 

You managed to collect your journal expertly hidden in your bedroom before fleeing to the safety of the bathroom. You flip open the pages with teary eyes. 

You wish you didn’t have to admit that this was your safe space. On the bathroom floor, back flushed against the dark wood door as you closed your eyes and tried to calm your breathing. 

June 17th  2:28 P.M. 

Mom started a fight with me about not traveling again. She says it’s crucial for me to start my career immediately. I don’t even know what I want to be yet. 

You have to pause to blink back tears. You wish you had your life figured out like it felt everyone else did. 

Why does she have to care so much that I want to leave for a little bit? It’s not like it’s forever. There’s so much more out there. I’ve studied miscellaneous classes for four years and want a break. Why do we always have to have this conversation over and over again? She always asks how I will take care of student loans and bills. I have repeatedly told her that I’ve been saving up for a while to do this. She keeps saying she wants what’s best for me and doesn’t want me to start my career too late. She says it’s hard to let me go.

I love her, and I appreciate her support through school, but school is what taught me about independence as well as academics. I want to live my life and have experiences you can only get by leaving home for a little bit. Maybe then I’ll better understand what I want for my future. 

Your writing pauses, and you stare straight ahead at the beige wall, blurry eyes reading another cheesy sign. Bathroom - Open 24 Hours - Seat Yourself. 

You decide to spare a moment of your mother’s casualties and pencil in something else that’s been recently stirring. 

I’ve been seeing Joel Miller casually since the start of this summer. I can’t believe I’m even writing this. It’s weird -- but in a way, it’s also not? He’s older by like a mile, but he’s familiar, comfortable. Easy to talk to. It doesn’t feel like he’s judging me. I’m not trying to read too much into it, but this summer sucks less because of Joel. Whether he knows it or not. 

---

You and your mother work around each other while setting up dinner in the backyard garden. She steps back inside to grab more wine glasses. 

You’ve put on a nice summer dress. The hem lands somewhere on your thighs and flows with the breeze. After sobbing on the cold bathroom tile for an hour, you don't feel very pretty, but eating outside and soaking up some fresh air might make you feel better.

“Hey, sweetheart.” 

Joel Miller was the largest, broadest, lumberjack-est man you had ever met, but he moved as quietly as a mouse. Your eyes blink a few times as you haphazardly set down the bowl of mashed potatoes on the circular table. 

“Hi.”

Your voice is raw and red, softer than usual. Joel seems to instantly take notice. You see it in the way his eyes soften. He moves a little closer, hands resting on the back of one of the white outdoor dining chairs. 

Your face probably reads more panicky than intended. He picks up on your faulty mood and assumes the worst. 

“Do they.. Do they know?” He asks, eyebrows knitted with a deep furrow in between. 

Your eyes go doe-ish, shaking your head and occupying your hands with a spare cloth napkin.

“What? No. Why would you think that?” 

He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t have to. He takes one long look over your being and you feel it in the space between you. 

Somethin’s wrong. 

Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine, Joel. 

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing on you more. 

Suddenly, you felt exposed. Like someone had ripped the curtain open on you. No one had ever seen right through you like this before. It was unsettling, but god, you just wanted to lean right into it. 

If your parents weren’t just inside, you’d walk right into his front and curl your head in his chest just under the hook of his chin. You’d close your eyes and wrap your small arms around his waist. 

He’d encircle you in his big, protective arms and shield you from the pain you’ve felt today. You’d listen to his heart thrumming against his chest, using the rhythm to try and slow down your breathing while he whispers to you in his sweet southern drawl.

S’alright, sweetheart. Everything’s gonna be okay. I see you tryin’. 

His eyes flitter into light again, ease passing across his features. 

“Like the dress.” He looks over you with a condescending little smirk. This man has never seen you in a dress in your life. 

“Shut up. It’s just for dinner.”

He lets out a cocky little tut. “‘Cause you knew I was comin’ over?”

When you look up at him again, his hand gently rests over yours. You don’t have time to appreciate it; the sliding back door opens, and your father’s big booming laughter shakes the nearby lake. Joel’s subtle touch is instantly gone. 

“Joel! So good to see you! Hey, great bonfire a few weeks ago.”

You take a deep breath and excuse yourself from the shop talk. You don’t want to be alone with your mother in the house, but the table still needs to be set up. You work around each other in silence. She grabs the salad, you grab the dinner rolls and green beans. You could hear a pin drop. 

---

Dinner would have been better if you had an appetite. You spent the majority of your time making a tilled farm field out of your mashed potatoes. You’d flatten out your helping with a fork and then gently run the fork’s ribs through the moldable potatoes and create little crop lines out of it. You don’t always play with your food, but you weren’t really up for conversation. Your mother takes notice. She hates it. She hates that you were letting your personal problems exist in the company of others. 

The only time you looked up even slightly was when Joel started talking. Sort of a calm in an unknown storm, you suppose. He looked so handsome without even really trying. You wore a crooked smile as you looked over the dark green button-up he was wearing. It was starting to be your favorite color, he wore it so well. 

There were points where your parents would turn to each other. And Joel would turn to you. It was sort of a silent check-in. 

Under the protection of the table, his hand found your knee, his big fingers lightly playing with the hem of your dress. It was the first time you cracked a real smile all dinner. Your hand ghosted over his, your nails lightly running soothing, slow lines on the underside of his wrist by his watch. 

You doin’ okay?

Mhm.

It didn’t dawn on you that Joel might have felt he did something to cause your saddened mood. And this was his way of asking. You bit down on your lower lip, feeling his fingers lightly interlock with yours over your knee. Your eyelashes flutter at the warmth it propels through your body. It was just what you needed. Everything was going to be okay. 

---

You’re working over a stubborn steak juice stain on a plate as the sun sets over the lake and glistens a soft yellow-orange hue through the windows in the kitchen. Your parents are moving around you while you rinse the dishes, back turned to them as they spoke in mundane conversation and pack up leftovers.

You don’t see him, but you can feel Joel’s presence as he enters the doorway. He watches you. He watches your parents. You wonder what he sees. The next thing you know, he’s shaking your parents hands and bidding them goodnight. 

He stops at you. As the running faucet splashes against a few forks and a wine glass, you spare him a glance. 

“Walk me out?” Your parents take notice of his ask. And not in the way you expect. 

You tilt back and forth on your feet, looking back to the dishes. You really just wanted to finish what was left to clean and read in your room for the rest of the night. 

“Uhm-”

“Go on and walk him out, honey. We’ll see you soon, Joel. Thanks for stoppin’ in.” 

Your eyes go from Joel’s, to your parents. If they were anything, at least they were oblivious. 

You and your mother share a look before she sighs and exits the kitchen. Your jaw loosens, not even realizing how hard you were grinding your teeth while looking at her. 

“Yeah. Okay.” Your murmured voice is barely audible above the gushing sink faucet. After you set the plate on the drying rack and smear your wet hands on a dish towel, you walk Joel outside. 

The night breeze off the lake sets in a layer of goosebumps up your arms. 

Joel’s boots scuff against the gravel and dirt in his driveway, his footsteps pausing at his truck and turning to face you. 

The rising moon and setting sun work in unison to highlight his aquiline nose and silver-sprinkled jawline. He’s charmingly handsome. Rugged features meet a stone facade. 

You take a hesitant look back into the house. The kitchen light is still on, but no one is in the small windows. 

“You wanna tell me what’s really goin’ on with you?” He crosses his arms, cocking his leg out as he leans his weight onto one of his hips. 

You muster up a shrug and fold your hands around your arms to keep the light chill away. It felt like you couldn’t tell the truth, the house and your parents inside watching over you. The pressure of it all makes your shoulders lurch up a bit into your neck. 

But Joel continues to press you. You’re making him nervous, you think, because he’s not accustomed to seeing you so quiet. 

“Are you..” His words falter and fall off, and you can see the frown creased into his mouth.  “You’re wantin’ t’stop seein’ each other?” 

“What?” Now you’re the one frowning, closing the gap between you and Joel and taking him by his hand to the other side of the truck, using it as a shield between you and the rest of the world. Your back flushes against his driver-side door. 

“No, I don’t want to stop seeing you, Joel.” You frown and squeeze his hand a little tighter in assurance. “Trust me. You’re kind of..” You struggle to make the words fit. Nothing seems right. You’re kind of the only person I want to be around right now.

Joel looks a little relieved. He doesn’t make you finish your sentence. He seems to connect the dots. Joel looks from your solemn face to the house behind you—the cause of your ill-stricken mood. 

“How about we grab a drink n’talk.” It’s not a question, exactly, it’s more like a command. 

You don’t want to talk about what happened, and you have a sneaking suspicion that if you two go off together, your parents will be asking questions. 

You push the toe of your sneaker into the gravel and twist slowly back and forth. 

“I should just head back inside. My parents are probably waiting up for me, anyway. Cleanup duty.” You say unenthusiastically with a dash of sarcasm. Joel’s eyes are looking past you, still at the house. You turn around to follow his eyeline. All the lights in the house have been turned off—even the porch light. Joel scowls at the sight, thinking how he always leaves the light on for Sarah. 

The caged-in feeling returns, your chest tight as you look to your feet and try to breathe through the ache your heart held. You wanted to get out of here, and now. 

“Never mind.” You bite down on your lower lip to hold it together. “Let’s go.” 

You’re already swinging open Joel’s door, rust creaking at the joints as you slide into the passenger seat. These old trucks with no center console were so cool to you. Maybe you'd appreciate it more if you weren’t in such a shitty mood. But Joel’s already in the truck beside you, the warmth he’s radiating was welcome. His key turns in the ignition, and it clicks a few times before the engine roars to life. 

You don’t talk, he doesn’t force you to. You feel at peace putting some distance between you and the lakehouse. 

Joel drives past neighborhoods with funny street names.  Thunderbird Lane. Firefly Drive. Sugar Loaf Lane.

As the sun just finishes setting, the whole town is covered in an orange glow that will soon fade to purple. Everything flies by your window, and moving at this speed feels like the cage is lifting around your chest, the clasps on your wrist snapping free. 

Rolling down the window makes the breeze funnel into the truck and flow through your hair. Before you know it, your body is halfway out of the window. 

“What ‘n God’s name do you think you’re doin’?” Joel’s tone was warning, his fist catching your dress in a fist around your lower back in an attempt to make sure you didn’t get thrown out of the truck.  “Get back in here.” 

You turned back so Joel could see you, eyes lit, and a smile from ear to ear. His hold slowly loosens at the sight before him. 

Back arched out the window, he drives a little slower and towards the center of the road. You look up, arms outstretched into the night air as you breathe everything in. Fresh lungs, filled with a new perspective, no tears left to cry as you hang out of Joel’s window. The stars gleam, and the universe is vast.

Oh my god. You hear yourself mumble, feeling freedom reeling through your entire body. And like that, you were new again. 

A satisfied sigh leaves your lips. You’re back in the truck now, and you roll the window up but not completely closed. The wind still tickles a breeze into your thrown-about hair. You look to Joel, his eyes already on yours. 

Joel sees your fire has been re-lit, thrashing out licks of flame and building in intensity. He adores you wild and free.

“Better?”

You fix the space between you, your body melting into his side as your head lazily rolls onto his shoulder. His heavy arm finds its way around the tops of your shoulders to keep you sedentary. 

“Much better.” 

---

He ends up passing the central part of town. It’s better this way. Go somewhere he won’t be recognized with a woman half his age. He’s the one who lives in town throughout the year. You and your family only visit in the summer. It doesn’t help that the town is small, and Joel is one of a handful of skilled contractors in the area. 

His rusted truck lulls to a jittery stop outside a small bar lit by a red neon sign reading, Past Lives. You wander inside, passing empty barstools and a glowing dartboard, while your sneakers crunch peanut shells littering the ground. You nearly slipped on a large pile of them, but Joel’s hand was firmly on your bicep before you could flail any further. 

“You might be the clumsiest woman I’ve ever met.” He mutters, annoyance passing over his features. 

You roll your eyes and scoot onto one of the tall barstools at a small square table against the wall. “I doubt that’s true.” 

He shrugs his shoulders and cracks open a peanut, tossing it into his mouth. “You’re right. Your mother is the clumsiest woman I know. You get it from her. Once, I watched her glide five or six feet down the end of the dock and land in the water.” 

An ill feeling passes over you again, pursing your lips as you trace your finger around the small bowl Joel is picking his peanuts from. 

Joel halts his movements, chewing included, and watches as your eyes stare meaninglessly at the table. 

“Never really seen you like this. Thought I’d like it if you were quiet for once. But now it just feels out of character.” 

Joel’s boot teasingly nudges your sneaker under the table. His brown eyes look warm despite the lack of light in the dingy bar. Your stomach twists thinking about how he looked under the moonlight just half an hour ago. 

Those pretty eyes of his meet yours. Soft. Kind. “Talk to me.”

A beaten-up sigh leaves your lips, tugging at the hem of your dress. 

After a drink or two, you tell Joel everything he missed before dinner. How you and your mother fought. How it was all venom and tears, leaving you cold and alone on the bathroom tile. By the time the battle came to a halt, there was no clear winner or loser. 

Joel’s an attentive listener. He doesn’t interrupt. He knows when to prompt you need a push. Joel’s pile of peanut shells has turned into a small molehill. The ice in your drink sloshes around as you start talking with your hands. 

“I love her, I mean, she’s my mom. But she’s always fought me on this. This-this-...”  

“The traveling,” Joel assists, his large hand nursing a small glass of whiskey. He looks amused like he enjoys watching you spew. You supposed he feels more relieved to see you explode like this rather than holding it all in.

“And-and it’s so much more than that! She fought me about leaving Texas for school, she fought me about doing a semester abroad, she just can’t let me go, it’s suffocating!” 

You didn’t mean to sound so passionate, and you hadn’t realized how vocal you became until someone slowly clapped on the other side of the bar in appreciation. You stifled a laugh and put your head shyly in your hands. 

He nods slowly, waiting to see what you’ll say next. You’re using him like you’re journaling at home, now it’s just interactive. 

You sigh and pinch at the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes as you listen to an old country slow song humming throughout the bar. 

“Didn’t even wanna come back this year.” Your words are barely above a murmur. 

This makes Joel pause. “What d’you say?” 

You sit up straight and sigh, crossing one leg over the other under the table. These stupid drinks are making you tell the truth. Be more vulnerable than you would ordinarily be. But it’s also because you’re talking to Joel, and he’s always been interested in what you have to say. 

“I didn’t want to come back this year. These past few years, I didn’t come back to Danbury because I sort of- purposely- busied up my summer. Internships, work, anything to keep me busy and out from under their-their….” You pause to make hand gestures that are wide and all-encompassing. 

Joel juts his jaw out to the side, lips pursed before he speaks again. 

“M’happy you came back.”  

There’s a moment of silence. Joel’s eyes aren’t on yours anymore. He’s swirling his glass around slowly and watching his ice rotate in a sloppy circle. You slowly start to smile as he looks bashful. 

“What did you say, Mr.Miller?” You pry teasingly, reaching your hand over and gently stroking his watch band. The nickname makes his eyes narrow on yours. 

“Nothin’. Forget about it.” He throws back the last of his drink, and you’re cooing for him to continue. 

“Wha- Joel, come on! Why did you say that?” 

He’s just trying to buckle down his smile, hiding it with his whiskey glass and shaking his head. 

“Didn’t say nothin’.”

“Yes, you so did. Don’t even try to lie.” 

“I’ve never lied a day in my life.”

Your eyes go wide, and now you’re smacking his forearm. He’s shoving quarters at you now, sliding them to your side of the table as a form of distraction. 

“Can you just-” He scoffs under his breath and rolls his eyes, finalizing his quarter total to four. “-fuck off, go put a song on the jukebox.” 

You sneer at him but obey. You look for something particular, pausing on Little Lies by Fleetwood Mac, smirking at him as you punch in his quarters. He seems confused as to why you stay standing at the jukebox. 

The chorus hits, and you point accusingly at him as you do so. 

“Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies,” you can’t even finish before your right foot catches on more slippery peanut shells, freezing like you were caught on ice skates and trying not to fall. 

Joel’s hand has a vice grip on your bicep again until you regain your balance. God. Your face gathers heat as you snatch your phone off the table, and he lets out a laugh at your expense. 

“Can’t sing,”

“Hey-”

“Can’t walk in a straight line.”

“I had like four drinks.”

“Two.” He corrects. There’s no hiding that you’re just unbearably uncoordinated. 

“God. Just- get me out of here, Miller.” 

Joel was biting back a smile. He likes teasing you, taunting you. Only because you know how to serve it back to him. 

“Not until you see this. Wanna show you somethin’.” He sets down his whiskey and lays down cash to cover the tab. 

You start your stride, and Joel’s already looking at you with instilled concern. You insist I’m fine. Go on. You follow him through a narrow hallway towards the restrooms, an exit door lit up with a red sign over it. 

The walls are filled with signs, pictures, and letters, all illuminated by a soft flickering strip light.  These were trails that people had left along the way, passing through the bar and leaving a piece of them behind for strangers to admire. It was like a memory wall. 

Joel leans back against the men’s restroom doorframe, arms crossed as he silently admires the wall. And you. 

Your fingers brush an old family picture timestamped from the late 80s. There were business cards, from bankers to bonds bailsman. 

You feel Joel’s hand cast warmth on your hip, guiding you further down the hall. You follow his eyeline to a large yellow-light spoiled wall map. There were push pins all in different parts of the world. 

“Look at all of these, Joel!” Your eagerness was evident as you stepped in front of him, finger flying from one point to the next, squinting past the tacks to read the cities people have visited. 

“Bangkok, Thailand. Paris, France. Of course. London, Dubai, Tokyo.” Your voice trails off, finger-stopping around the empty parts of the map that some of the bargoers had yet to venture off to. The pins around the state of Texas were ironic. 

You gently took a step back, Joel's broad and hardened front caressing your back. His arms gently wrap around you before they clasp at your front. You rest your temple against his bicep as you sigh. You found comfort in him tonight more than he could understand. 

Your neck cranes to the side and up, observing his defined jawline from below. “Have you ever been out of the country?” Your face is lit with excitement, only to fall as he slowly shakes his head. You turn back to the map, your fingers gently holding onto his muscular forearm. 

“Am I crazy for wanting to leave?” 

You can feel a heavy breath leave through Joel’s nose, the air fanning over the top of your head. 

“You’re not leavin’. You’re travelin’. You’ll come back, eventually.” 

The muscle in your jaw twitches, and your eyes move to the Eastern side of the map, spotting the tiny European countries. 

“Maybe my mom is so worried that if I decide to leave, I might not come back.” You say it as a joke. It makes Joel muster up a tut. But maybe, just maybe, you mean it.

---

You feel drops scatter from the dark black clouds overhead as you rush out to the truck, feeling the cold rain splash onto the exposed skin of your thighs.

Joel’s hot on your heels, doing his little side hop down the stairs and jogging lightly with his arms tucked into his sides. He’s already tossed you the keys to his truck. His body hovers over yours and shields the raindrops from landing on your head as you fiddle with unlocking the truck door. 

“Any day now.”

His babbling thwarts your concentration. 

“Fuck off, it’s like- rusted shut.” You tease before giving the handle one large tug, and it gives way with a creak. You slip in, dress hem tangling up on your upper thighs. Your hand flies to fix it instinctually, but you slow down when you see how adamantly Joel admires the exposed skin.

When you two make eye contact, he’s already cleared his throat and put the key in the ignition. He cranes his neck back to look out the rearview window, left hand cranking the wheel with precision while his right arm wraps around the back of your headrest. You swallow the lump in your throat, watching Joel reverse out of the bar’s parking lot and back onto the main road.

Your heart thumps, and you think he can hear it because his eyes are on yours when he turns back around. Magnetizing. And you have a hard time facing him without feeling a little shy. Because you’re thinking incredibly naughty things now. 

On the drive home, the rain pelts the truck and hard. Joel’s wimpy wipers are working at full speed. He’s not concerned because he knows these streets with his eyes closed. He turns up the radio a little bit to drown out the rain. He does it for you to ease your nerves. 

“You’re quiet.” He murmurs, his eyes still on the murky road in front of him. 

You can’t help but be quiet. He looks so fucking hot. As dim streaks of lightning skitter across the sky, you see the silver hairs in his mustache and beard. His rain-dampened curls are recoiling, fresh, and wavy. His thick neck was lined with strong veins and muscle.

“So are you.” You murmur back. 

His eyes catch you in sneaky glances. Your hair, pretty and dry since he shielded you in the bar’s parking lot. Dress half rumpled up your thighs, smooth skin of your legs exposed to his wandering pupils. 

The truck suddenly shifts, veering off the main road.  

“Woah,” you gasp, thinking the truck had slid at first. But Joel’s foot was still on the gas, cautiously guiding you off to a side road. You look around, covered by darkness and trees that shield your existence but do little to veil the obscene thoughts racing through your head. 

Joel finally throws the truck into a parked position, your eyes watching as his hand snaps the keys out of the ignition. 

He looks over at you expectantly. And you just deadpan. 

“Get over here." He says between gritted teeth, voice drenched in lust as he snaps off his seatbelt and then your own.

His large hands pull you in as soon as you’re free. You don’t waste another minute, straddling his lap and resting between him and his steering wheel.  

You clutch the collar of his dark green button-up, tugging him by his neck into your kiss. It’s messy and desperate, but you've wanted to taste him since dinner. His greedy hands are wrinkling your dress. The cold air tickles your warm thighs, and you whimper into his mouth. 

Joel’s kisses are rough but fluent; he speaks the language of your lips. You take a moment to admire how different the two of you are and how it feels like he’s the key to your lock. 

His warm palms slip up the front of your thighs as he kisses you, hasty and happy. He takes the hem of your dress with him. Joel is as warm as a furnace. He’s heating you from the inside out as your core begins to ache for him.

He pauses the kiss, large palm coming up to cup your cheek as his thumb traces along your lower lip. You take the time to catch your breath, feeling his own fog against the window next to you. 

“Not exactly the most romantic spot.” His eyes shift with lust-filled guilt. “M’sorry.” 

You work up a smile, leaning in to gently kiss his cheek and up his cheekbone. 

“It’s okay. We’re not romantic.” Your clarification feels like a lie. He doesn’t need to know that. 

The rain outside becomes blurred, and Joel’s looking through you again. Right through you. Your chest pounds under his watchful eyes. He sucks in the side of his cheeks, looks you up and down your face. 

Don’t lie to me. 

Don’t make me tell you the truth.

He decides to let you move on unscathed, your thighs clamping around his own with your knees at either side of his hips. His worry lines are stamped into his forehead as he looks over you cautiously. 

You break into a smile, unable to stand him looking at you like you’re a lost puppy. “Joel,” you whisper into his ear, soft lips giving his ear a kiss as your nose lightly brushes against his soft curls. Your voice drops to a whisper, sweet and divine. “Don’t make me beg, Mr. Miller.” 

Your lips suckle his earlobe and cast your tongue along the curve while his fingertips immediately dig deeper into the flesh of your hips. The sensation makes his cock twitch in his jeans. 

You smirk as you grind your hips into his lap, a suppressed grunt leaving his parted lips. He’s into it. “You like this, Mr. Miller?” Your words are murmured against the shell of his ear, teeth gently catching his earlobe and lightly tugging. 

Your words along with the rhythm of your hips over his lap have him in a tailspin. 

“Knock it off.” He warns, teeth gritted, a low growl emitting from his throat while he grips you at the waist to pause any movement. He looks so sexy snarling at you like this. Your hand reaches between you two, palming against his cock until you feel it swell into the heart of your hand. 

Joel is lazily planting kisses on the soft skin of your neck, he’s distracted by how good your hand feels. 

You take turns half undressing one another. Joel pushes your dress up to your waist and loops his index finger into the band of your panties. He guides them down with your assistance. You kick the material off your ankles and move to pop open each button of his long sleeve. He goes to shrug it off, but you smile and tighten your hold on the collar. 

“I like it on. Just wanna see your chest hair.” 

His mouth tilts into a crooked smirk.

“‘lright, then. Good to know.” He leans back in and places messy kisses on your exposed neck. You can feel how badly he wants to sink his teeth in, but you share the mutual rule of keeping those things below the collar. Out of sight, out of other people’s nosy minds. 

You struggle to admit that jimmying open his belt at this angle was pissing you off. You’re holding your breath until it clicks open, and you let out a sigh of relief. So does Joel. 

A gasp leaves your lips as Joel lifts the both of you up purely with the strength of his hips, a low grunt leaving his pouted lips as he pushes his jeans down to his knees, along with his boxers. You sit back down over him and feel his heavy shaft pressing against your slick center. His girth makes you whimper. 

The rhythm of the rain eases your racing heart. You take Joel’s pulsing member into your slightly shaky hand. 

“Nervous?” It’s not cocky or concerned, just curious. 

“M’not nervous.” You mutter, starting to pump his cock to get him to shut up. And it works. For a minute. 

His head falls back into the seat as he watches you in admiration, his own hand wandering between your spread legs and gliding two fingers through your slick. His forefinger grazes against your clit, and he has you whimpering again. 

“S’okay to be nervous.” His thumb slowly starts delicate circles into your bundle of nerves, and now he’s got your legs quivering. 

You’re chewing at the inside of your cheek, shifty eyes meeting his. You pace your words this time. “I’m not nervous, Joel.” You pull away from him to create a line of spit from your mouth, landing on his pink tip already drizzling in precum. You swallow your nerve and bring yourself to meet his eyes. “Not with you.” 

The mutual understanding links the two of you together, bound to the agreement in silence. You have a burning desire for one another. You’re scared, and he knows it. You push him to the limits, his heart beats for you. 

Steam fogs the windows of Joel’s truck. The rain dances a fine line between pounding and pouring to slow and subtle. 

Joel’s kisses lull you into a peaceful existence. You take off your dress, unable to stand anything between you and Joel. He’s warm as he wraps his arms around you, your tits flush against his thick chest. 

You line him up by his base, Joel’s trying to hold himself still under you. You’re focusing hard, and he kisses your temple to ease your thoughts. He murmurs something, but you’re too busy concentrating. 

His pink tip meets your warm flesh, and his tip slowly parts your walls. He’s seething between his teeth, how tight you are washes pleasure over his face. He wants you to go slow. You don’t want him to go easy on you. You can’t help but let his name tumble from your lips in desperation. 

“Joel,” you whine, one hand clenching the fabric of his button-up by his shoulder while the other still weakly holds his base. 

“M’here, baby.”

He’s rubbing soothing circles in your hips with his forefingers, trying to distract you from the stretch he’s creating inside you. 

His breaths are coming out in hot puffs. The truck isn’t cold anymore, in fact, it’s only steaming up. 

“So- fuckin’- tight.” He murmurs, eyebrows knitted together as his jaw was dropped open. 

It was sharp at first, but the further you sank over him, the more you couldn’t contain yourself. As soon as his balls were flushed against your core, you were kissing him. Hot and heavy, desperate and needy, can’t get enough of each other sort of kisses. One of his hands holds the back of your head to keep you close while your fingers are delicately feeling up his chest and mazing through salt and pepper hair. 

You smirk lazily against his lips, pulling away to rest your head on his shoulder. With this leverage, you start to roll your hips down onto his. Joel’s hands assist, squeezing your ass and guiding you smoothly up and down his shaft. You’re both moaning one another’s names, hazy eyes watching each other as long as they can before eventually drifting closed. 

You wished you weren’t fucking in his truck, your riding skills were a lot better than this, but if you try and pop up, your head will just smack into the roof. And he’ll make fun of you for as long as he knows you. 

“God- feel so good, Joel.” 

You’re panting already a few minutes in. You don’t want Joel to think you can’t do this, you don’t want his help. But your body is crammed in limited quarters, and you’re already sweating. 

He feels good. You wonder how long it’s been since he’s had sex. He’s not exactly the most outgoing of gentlemen. Thinking about him being with other women, maybe even women his age stirs a weird pit inside your stomach. 

One hand steadies itself on Joel’s forearm while the other gently clutches his cheek. You leave a messy moan against his ear. 

“Do you like fucking girls half your age, Mr. Miller?” You ask with a teasing smirk, messy kisses against his stubble and his ear ensuing. 

He’s grunting every time you throw yourself back into him, skin clapping against his thighs, his hands slipping from your hips to your ass and squeezing the juicy flesh. “-like fuckin’ you.” 

A low, extended groan leaves his lips as he holds your hips down, filling you full and having you sit with it. You throw your head back, and your eyes shudder closed with a loud moan occupying the truck. 

You tell yourself that you’re both just fuck happy. You can worry about the depth of Joel’s words later. He feels too good inside of you for the first time to give a shit.

Joel’s thrusts bring you back to life, hand landing against his window and leaving a print mark against the steamy glass. 

Joel senses your languid movements. He thinks you look pretty being fucked in his trunk during a thunderstorm. The darkness wraps the both of you up, only seeing flashes of each other’s features. He combs his large hand into your hair, catching your striking features with his hooded eyes. The slope of your nose. The curvature of your collarbones. Your pretty lips that he can’t stop staring at. 

Joel enjoys the control too much for you to be on top for a second longer. 

You collapse onto the truck’s long leather seat, lips parting in surprise as he maneuvers you to lie back without slipping from your entrance. 

“H-Holy fuck, Joel-” You’re breathless. 

Joel’s jaw clicks tighter as he flattens one of his large palms beside your head for leverage, hovering over you as he begins to methodically snap his hips into yours. Your desperate cries for more fill the truck. 

Both of you are horridly cursing, some in the form of whines and moans and others in the form of whispered grunts. 

Fuckin Christ-

Holy shit, Joel, please-

Feel so god damn good, princess-

Oh f- fuck me Joel, fuck me!

You’re already feeling the knots in your stomach tether tighter and tighter together, back arching as your chest brushes against his nose. 

Joel takes the opportunity and licks a hot stripe between your breasts. You know he tastes your glistening sweat, but the trail from his tongue makes you clench tighter around him. 

You catch Joel’s unfiltered groan in your mouth, his forehead resting against yours as his amber eyes grace yours. 

He’s close, you can see it in the way his features contort and his thrusts become more unpredictable. You had no idea he could fuck this good. 

Joel brings a hand up to your lips and offers you two fingers. You whimper but reluctantly take them past your mouth. You suckle and lather your tongue up and down each digit, it makes his cock twitch inside of you. 

He plucks his fingers free with a pop, a trail of spit extending from your bottom lip to your chin as he reaches between you both. 

Finding your swollen bundle of nerves doesn’t take him more than a second. You were so turned on it was almost painful. 

Joel’s tip sweetly kisses your cervix at this angle, and you are so close to spilling over. Your hands cup his face, pulling him into you as you share a messy kiss. You think about how scared you were to kiss him before, but now it makes you feel a sense of protection and safety. You wrap your arms around his neck, you need him close. 

“Joel,” you whimper, clenching your eyes closed and dropping your jaw as he finds the perfect rhythm circling your clit. 

“Can’t hear ya, baby,” He grunts into your ear. You can feel him tiredly smirking against your cheek, knowing he’s fucking you so good you’re struggling to find the words. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, your legs clenching tighter at the sides of his hips. “M’on birth control, finish inside me,” you whisper against his ear. 

You can hear him let out a short, breathy chuckle against your ear. It only drives him more, knowing he can fill you up. 

“Y’sure, sweetheart?” 

“Want to?” 

His teeth are gritted as he growls into your ear. “Course I wanna fill your sweet cunt up.” 

It was hopeless after that. 

A crack of thunder and a strike of lightning conspire, your view of Joel illuminating his gorgeous face in a white-silver flash. 

The tight coils inside you snap free, a broken moan of his name being the last thing you remember saying before white stars filled your vision. Your hold on Joel loosens as your orgasm crashes through you ungracefully, making you twitch and rut your hips below him. 

His fingers and his thrusts don’t stop. He rides out your orgasm, following suit until he flushes his hips against yours and lets out a heavenly groan of your name. You’re still under him, vision blurry and hearing fuzzy. He finds solace in the crook of your neck, nuzzling a home for himself in the space and losing himself deep inside you. 

His body shudders lightly as he finishes, spilling white streams into you for who knows how long. Your hand is gently stroking the hair at the back of his head, fingers combing through dark curls as he breathes hot air against your neck. 

You both slowly blink back to life. He’s complimenting you, but you’re too blissed out to hear the details. 

So good, baby… Such a pretty fuckin’ girl... So lucky. 

Joel tuts softly as he attempts to free his softened length, but you whine and tighten your legs around his hips to keep him stationary. 

Your eyelashes flutter as you feel gentle kisses by the corners of your eyes, tiredly smiling as you open them before slowly sitting up onto your elbows. Joel takes the opportunity to pull out and yank his boxers and jeans back into place, securing his belt last. 

He still keeps his shirt unbuttoned for you, partially because you have a hold on a random corner to keep it so. 

With the absence of your pants hotboxing the truck, you slip back into your dress with a light shudder. You reach past Joel’s leg to retrieve your panties and pull them up your stems to keep his spillage to a minimum. 

“Good?” He asks, a smile slowly growing on your lips. He looked so fucked out. You both probably did. You attempt to fix Joel’s hair, and he takes his thumb to swipe away the saliva trail on your chin. 

“Good.” You agree. Quiet and sapped, but good. 

You force Joel to play a few games of tic-tac-toe on the foggy glass before the storms lighten up, and you can actually see more than a few feet in front of the road. 

You’re picking at the skin around your nails the entire drive home. So many questions compile in your worn-out brain. 

What if your parents noticed you were gone? What if they were awake, waiting for you by the kitchen window, and they see you slip out of Joel’s truck? Try explaining yourself after that one. 

As Joel pulls into his driveway, you observe the lake house is still dark and silent. Empty but also not. Joel’s warm palm is on your leg. It draws your attention away from the window, focusing just on him. 

“Joel?”

“Hm?” 

You shift your jaw before you lay your head back against the headrest, gentle pitter patters of the last rain cloud splashing on the window. 

“What do you do when you’re not working? Like on that Saturday when I talked to you at your truck.” 

He musters up a half-mouth smirk. “Didn’t do much talkin’ that I recall.” 

You roll your eyes and slam a closed fist against his shoulder. It barely rocks his arm, let alone his body. “M’serious.” 

He lets out a long sigh and looks out the windshield. “I do stuff around town or-  for the town.”

He’s so hard to push details out of. He’s like a jammed stapler. 

“Go on. So, like, volunteering?”

Joel rolls his eyes and shrugs. “S’not really like that.”

“That’s what it sounds like.” 

He doesn’t say anything, just sort of starts smiling. “Just like keeping myself busy. But now I have you on my plate.” He teased. Your chest felt warm, knowing he kept a place for you in his hectic life. 

“What sort of stuff are you working on right now?” 

He takes a long, deep breath through his nose. You can hear it whistle before he lets it all out of his mouth, followed by clearing his throat. 

“Y’know that old church past that big field on the east side of Danbury?” 

You mindlessly shake your head and shrug. 

“When I was a kid, I used t’go to that church-”

“For God?” You can’t help but blurt it out in shock. 

He narrows his eyes on you and smirks.

“M’not exactly the Godly type.” You look over his chiseled jawline and beautiful, robust features. You’d have to disagree. He looked like one of God’s favorites. 

“So.. why are you trying to fix an old church?”

Joel slowly smiles, eyes mindlessly on the dashboard of his truck before he answers. “I have a thing for the broken, used, and abandoned.” 

Your head cocks to the side, and you give him a look, pressing him for an honest answer. Or maybe it was an honest answer, and you’re just looking for a better answer. 

He shuffles around in his seat before he continues, hand still aimlessly circling on your thigh. “It wasn’t operable when I was a kid, just rundown, abandoned. There used to be a stained glass mural on the-uh... east-facing wall. So when the sun came up through it, the whole place just- lit up.” He pauses and shifts his focus to you. 

“Now, y’know, it’s fallin’ apart. Dumb kids throwin’ rocks at it and chipping away the glass, age makin’ it all dust-covered.” Joel shrugs and falls back into his closed pit of secrecy. 

“So… you’re fixing up the town.”

A pause. “More or less.” 

“You know how to make a stained glass mural?”

He shakes his head and purses his lips. “No. But I can figure it out.” 

You twist your lips and slowly climb over his lap once more. His eyes watch you curiously while his hands settle on your hips. You cup either side of his neck, fingertips lightly brushing up against messy curls. 

“Can I see this mural you’re working on?” 

He takes a long time to answer. So much dead silence fills the truck you start to feel a bit awkward about asking, like maybe it was too far. 

“Please.” You ask or tell rather. You kiss his lips lightly to try and sway his pending decision. “I won’t judge, I think it’s cool.”

“Cool?” He instantly chirps, cocking an eyebrow up at you. 

“I didn’t say you were cool-”

“You most certainly did.” 

You’re shaking your head, and his pointer finger is prodding into your side to get under your skin. “I said that it’s cool. The stained glass stuff, that is what is cool.” 

He’s already sneering at you. “Whatever you say, princess.” You can feel your cheeks singe with heat. Your hand anxiously scrabbles for the door handle, letting the rusty door creak open for your exit.

Sneakers scrape gravel after you climb out of Joel’s lap, his boots landing suit. 

He smoothes a hand down your dress, your eyes watch before you face him. 

“You gonna be alright?” Joel's face is laced with slight concern, his head cocking past you and looking to the house. 

You shrug and shake your head. “Yeah. We’ve had this fight before, and we’ll have it again.” 

He doesn’t seem satisfied with the answer. He’s teetering on his heels as a stray raindrop lands on your cheek. 

“You can..” He trails off as his thumb comes up and brushes away the droplet, hand lingering before he cups your cheek. “Y’know, can always stay with us if you need a break. M’sure Sarah would love the company.” And so would he. 

Your eyes soften, the gesture warm and safe. You couldn’t even imagine the trouble you’d stir up at Joel’s house. Sure, you could occupy yourself with Sarah when she returned from camping, but what would you and Joel do? Well, besides the obvious…

Your lips curl into a tight smile, not wanting him to reel in his invite out of pure bashfulness. 

“Thank you. I’ll keep it in mind.” Your eyes are on his until he sighs, his shoulders reset into that of a broad lumberjack once more. His eyes looked like they were scheming. It’s fast, like a flash, and before you know it, the look is gone. 

“Take care of yourself.” He leans down and plants a kiss on the crown of your head, thumb skimming up the line of your cheekbone. Suddenly, your heart is racing again. 

You cup his cheeks and pull him down for a real goodbye kiss, two sets of pouted lips against one another, unwilling to let go until you have to. 

---

“What are you doing after work?” You’re on a call with Joel, phone pressed between your ear and hunched shoulder. 

“What are you wearing right now?” He taunts, voice crackling in and out of connection since he was currently working at a house out of town. 

“Ha.” You deadpan, closing the sliding glass door behind you as you step back into the empty lake house, skin sweltering from being in the sun for the better half of the afternoon reading on the dock. “No, really, I could use your help.”

The phone volume shrills in your ear as you hear an electric saw roar to life, Joel cursing repeatedly as he walks away from all the noise.  “Jesus fuckin-.. so damn lou- Can you hear me better?” 

Once the saw dulled, you put the phone back to your ear.  “Yeah.”

“What do you need help with?” His voice sounds a little preoccupied like he’s trying to focus on you, but he’s got a million things running through his head. 

“My window.” You say with a frown, stepping into your bedroom and cursing at the sight of it. “Won’t open. Maybe you can crack it open with some of your handy dandy tools.”

You smile as he musters up a little laugh at your hardware knowledge or lack thereof. “I don’t know about today, baby.” 

“You are the property maintenance guy for our lakehouse now, right? You have a duty to help me.” You tease, stepping back outside with a fresh bottle of water and an apple. Your teeth pierce the skin, and the apple’s juices gush past your lips. 

“Jesus, fine. I’ll be over. I’m almost done.”

You purse your lips to hide your smirk. God, he can’t even see you, but you don’t want him to know he’s got you flustered. 

“Parents are running errands today... If that’s extra incentive for you to hurry up.” 

Joel pauses on the other end. He’s probably got that stupid smirk on his face. “In that case, I’ll leave now.”

“I knew you’d see things my way. Thank youuu.” You playfully coo. 

Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever.

An hour later, Joel’s outside your window while you assist from the inside. His face is twisted in concentration, eyes narrowed on a misaligned hinge that he works free with a screwdriver, realigns, then screws tight into its proper place. 

He looks stupid hot so focused like this. Tanned skin, hair a little dusty from work. The veins in his forearm were bulging as he uses pressure to keep the hinge in place. You had to blink a few times to keep yourself from staring. He feels it. 

“Can I help you?” His voice was thick and echoing since he was speaking to you between a glass pane. 

You bite back a smirk and shake your head. 

He pulls off the hinge and nods, pats it a few times before looking at you and giving you a thumbs up. 

You decide to let him come inside before you open the window yourself, twisting at the string of your bikini bottom as you wait. He took in your appearance as soon as he parked in the driveway. 

“What?”

“...Nothin’. Like the outfit.”

“Joel, I was sunbathing. And reading. It wasn’t an intended distraction.” It was. 

“Mhm.”

Joel appears at the entrance of your bedroom. You silently curse yourself for not updating it more. It still looked like a sixteen-year-old fangirl lived in it. 

He appreciates the posters and magazines, checking his handiwork at the window. 

“Wanna give it a go? Open it?” 

You eagerly smile and step up to the window, playfully tugging on it and heaving. 

“I-.. It’s still stuck.” You say with a frown. “Joel, you said you fixed it.”

“What? Shouldn’t be-” He’s already got his hands on the frame and tugs, feeling it easily slip up and open. You’re giggling as his face deadpans. 

“You think you’re so funny.” He taunts, his body turning towards you as he chucks his tools haphazardly on your bed. You’re already attempting to take leaps and bounds away from Joel, but his arms are long, and so are his strides. 

His rough hands capture you by your waist, dusty and calloused fingers ghosting over your warm skin. 

Joel’s lips eagerly greet yours, both of you grinning into the kiss. It’s slow as you let it envelop you. Your heart races. He’s not supposed to be here, your parents could come home any time now.  

You bite down on your lower lip, feeling butterflies in your stomach as he backs you up against your wall, foreheads gently pressed together. His eyes flick behind you, and your head follows his gaze. 

“Boybands, huh?”

You roll your eyes and smirk, fingers moving to the button of his jeans. 

“Shut up, Joel. Leave the boybands out of it.” 

A car door slamming catches both of your attention. Heads whip on instinct, eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Your parents are home, and Joel’s half-hard in your palm. 

“Oh, shit.” You curse. 

Joel’s already moving, grabbing his tools off your bed, and adjusting his jeans. “Lemme handle it.” Your heart pounds as you and Joel greet your parents at the door. They walk in with fresh shopping bags. A cheesy sign for the living room sticks out from one of them. 

“Joel?” They both ask in unison, looking between the man beside you and you in your bikini. Your mother’s face lightly flushes. 

“Hey, Joel! Good to see ya!” Your father sets the bags on the table and grabs a beer from the fridge. You shift on your feet and just let Joel lead. 

Your dad’s oblivious, your mother is more curious

. 

“What are you... What are you doing here?” She tries to ask casually with a little smile. 

Joel raises his screwdriver, strategically keeping the toolbag in front of his lower half. You try not to smirk. 

“Was fixin’ your daughter’s jammed window.”

Your mother's face softens before she smiles. “Y’know, that thing has been jammed for… years. Thank you.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile and nod. “Yes. Thank you, Mr. Miller.” The light glare he sends you means you’ll pay for that one later. Joel clears his throat and nods, too. He turns to you now, and you share a look. 

“Just… let me know if it happens again. Might need to replace the hinge entirely. Small piece of it could be broken, might be why it keeps slippin’ out of place.”

“Yeah. For sure. Thanks.” 

You walk past your mother and open the door from him, but he still stands between your parents. What the hell is he doing?

“While I have you both, I was just tellin’ your daughter ‘bout a business trip I have comin’ up.” Huh? “ It’s not for Miller Contracting. It’s more for the town. I’m gettin’ materials for the old church-”

“Oh, the one with the broken stained glass mural on the east side of town?” Your mother chirps in. “We just drove past it. Just saying how someone needs to fix it up.” Joel’s lightly nodding to your mother’s words, her face soft as she listens to him with curiosity. 

“Well, I was tellin’ her about it ‘cause I could use some help getting materials from a supplier in Houston. I’d normally ask Sarah to tag along and help, but she said she’s got some graduation parties next weekend that she doesn’t wanna miss. Would it be alright if-”

“Oh, of course! Yes, please, if you need her help and she wants to go, she’s all yours.” 

Your eyes are wide, trying not to seem too shocked by Joel secretly sweeping you out from under your parents without them even noticing. 

Joel turns to you, eyebrow cocked.  “That okay with you? Next weekend. Friday to Sunday sort’f thing.” 

A whole weekend alone with Joel? Your insides are bursting, but you have to seem apathetic. 

“Mhm. Sure.” 

Joel sneaks you a private smile. “Really appreciate it. Ya’ll have a good rest of your evenin’.” And with that, he’s out the front door. 

You couldn’t believe what just happened. 

You try to act casual before you make it off to your room, but your mother’s voice pulls you to a halt. 

“Ah-ah, not so fast. Back it up.”

You quietly sigh before coming back to the main part of the kitchen. She narrows her eyes on you and lightly crosses her arms. Your fight with her from yesterday is still fresh, and it makes holding prolonged eye contact difficult. 

“Are you seeing a boy?”

Your eyes widen on instinct. Your dad pauses the sip of his beer and watches you carefully. You try to hold together a poker face as best as you can, but you’re worried your shock is already seeping through. 

“Wha- A boy? Why would you think that?” The laugh you force out sounds too fake. And you’re a terrible liar.  You feel so hot all of a sudden. You wished Joel was still here to talk you in and out of shit. It was a skill of his you’d surely have to learn. 

“Well, we heard the door close really late last night after you walked Joel out. We were just wondering if... You know, there’s a special someone that you’re seeing.” Of course, she hoped you would tie yourself down to someone in Texas. 

“Yeah, did a boy pick you up after dinner or somethin’?” Your father presses, eyes narrowing protectively over you. “You seein’ a boy or not, honey?”

You didn’t want to lie, but you certainly weren’t ready to tell them the truth about you and Joel. 

“Uhm.” Your brain scrabbles for an answer and ultimately chooses poorly. “Sorta. I don’t know. Kind of?” 

Your mother tightens her lips in a smile and nods a little. “We’ll let it go for now, but-”

“God- Mom, please.” You groan and put your face in your hands, closing your eyes and wishing this nightmare was over. 

“But,” she annoyingly emphasizes, “If it gets serious, we want to meet this young man.” She says with a firm nod before turning back to your father and putting away the items in their shopping bags. 

Meet him? They want to meet the boy you’re seeing? What will they do when they find out the boy is actually a full-grown man, a forty-something-year-old with a teenage daughter? And that man was not only their friend and neighbor but Joel fucking Miller. Fuck. Your luck was running out. 

---

here's my masterlist!

**follow hellishfics and turn on notifications get updates on my fic postings**

#joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #therapist joel #tlou #tlou fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #hellishjoel #joel miller x reader #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #dad's best friend #neighbor!joel miller #joel tlou

[amandacanwrite]

A Plain Stack of Parchment - Gale x Tav/reader

Pairing || Urchin Backstory Tav/Reader (unspecified gender) x Professor Gale

POV || Second Person

Length || 3,200 words

Scenario || Gale has tasked you with writing your wedding invites so that he can finally take them to the courier. The only problem is, you don't have anyone to send invites to. In hopes of smoothing over the conversation in which you finally tell him that you really don't have any family, you attempt to make dinner....and destroy his beautiful kitchen in the process.

A/n || This is my first piece of fanfic I've ever shared publicly, please be kind to me about it. I don't really know what the rules are. This has been brewing in my head for days, though and I must get it OUT.

“Are you asking me to marry you?” you’d asked. 

“Hah…I suppose I am,” he’d responded.

He’d carried on about how much Tara would love it, and of course his mother. Words to fill the silence while you’d found yourself bound in stunned silence; words to cover his nerves while you’d worked through the shock of having been asked to join his family. 

Family…a real family. You’d never had one before. It had been an easy answer to give, a joyful one to give. 

“I accept. I’ll marry you, Gale Dekarios.”

He’d begun to prattle on again in that way that you’d loved and it’d been impossible not to smile as he spoke about arrangements. That was until he’d said it. 

“--And you’ll have invites of your own to send out, I’m sure…but that’s all to come.”

You’d not had much time to worry about it, though. Moments later he was kissing you, his fingers curled into the hair at the nape of your neck in that way that always made you melt. You could worry about this conversation another time, you’d told yourself. 

But that time never came around. Gale had accepted his position as professor at Blackstaff, and you both had spent so many long nights on repairing the crown of Karsus so that he could finally be free of netherese magic inhabiting the space so dangerously close to his heart. The day Mystra cured him was one you’d remember forever, because you were both finally free of not only the danger looming over your love for one another, but from the ghost of the past Mystra had been since you’d met him. 

But now? Now you felt regret. 

Gale was working late–a problem student he took on as a project needed his help. He implored you for the umpteenth time to please finish your invitations. They really must be sent out, dearest, if our families are to have time to travel for the wedding. 

How could you tell him you had nothing to send out? How could you explain that you didn’t come with a family; didn’t come with any kind of support system? 

His mother had accepted you as one of her own so quickly. Tara had become just as doting and fussy over you as over the wizard himself. But you couldn’t give him that in return–with your there would be no inlaws, no great aunts, no distant cousins…no grandparents should you decide to have a family of your own one day…

You looked at the optimistic stack of parchment he’d left for you, the quills, two pots of ink. He’d even left you his very own signet ring to press the Dekarios clan crest into your sealing wax, so ready for you to join his family that he would let you claim his name prematurely. 

You wondered if that would change once he knew…once he knew that you’d always been scrappy and alone before the tadpoles and nautiloid brought you and the others together. That was why you’d done everything that you did. It was why you helped Astarion destroy Cazador, why you did everything you could to figure out how to fix Karlach’s infernal engine, even now. It’s why you lifted the shadowcurse for Halsin and helped Wyll rescue his father. It’s why you’d urged Shadowheart to endure the pain of her curse…

Because they all had family, and with time they’d become your family. You’d wanted so long to have one, to have a reason to be good. No one had ever asked after you–where you’d come from, how you became who you were. And you were relieved to not have to tell the truth of the matter. 

You were unloved. 

Thrown away by a mother who couldn’t care for you and living off of scraps you could find in the streets or coin you could slip out of the pockets of strangers. 

So all you could do was stare at that pile of parchment and try to scrape every recess of your memory for anyone; any single godsdamned person to send a wedding invitation to. Damn Gale Dekarios for sending off the ones for your old companions. At least you would have had something to show when he got home today. 

In the end, you gave up. You took the time to put the fine linen parchment away and place the ink pots back on the shelf with the others. You placed the sharpened quills back in the glass goblet he kept dozens of others and…and simply placed the signet ring in the middle of his writing desk where he’d left you hours before. 

And then you decided you would make dinner. 

Gale always cooked, even after his longest of days. You’d offered to do it many times but he always insisted that he liked to cook. That he liked to feed you. 

But the sun was setting lazily behind the Waterdhavian horizon, and Gale was certain to be exhausted after dealing with his problem student all evening. Dinner was the least you could do. Sure, you were never much of a cook, but it couldn’t be that hard to roast a chicken and some vegetables, right? There was certainly no shortage of recipe books in the tower. You were the savior of Baldur’s Gate, you’d taken down an elder brain! Certainly you could figure out cooking a bird. 

You got to work. 

Things seemed to be going pretty alright at the start of it, too. Coat the skin in butter and herbs; check. Scallop the potatoes; check? At least you thought that’s what a scalloped potato looked like. Blanch the asparagus…what did blanching mean?    

 Okay. No asparagus then. Gale could be a meat and potatoes man for one night, couldn’t he?

When you put the chicken and potatoes in the oven to roast and started working on reducing some red wine and spices for a sauce that things started to go south. Things started to go south very, very fast.

First, you realized the red you grabbed was not a Waterdhavian red as you’d thought, but a bottle of fire wine. Fire wine was already heavily spiced, so the the spices you added would be too much. Okay, okay–so, you would try again. 

But when you lifted the saucepan to…hide the evidence somewhere, you also spilled that fire wine directly onto the stove, directly into the flame. You eyes landed on the quickly spilling liquid just as the puddle ignited.

“Oh, for fuc–”

The explosion was nothing less than spectacular; it sent you sprawling across the room, smashing into the brick wall on the other end of the kitchen. The room filled up with black smoke as you tried and failed to get back up to your feet. Your head was spinning and you could barely get a breath in your lungs. 

Shit, shit, shit. You needed to get up. You needed to get up and figure out how to clean this up before Gale got home. He was no stranger to explosions, sure. But gods help the man or woman that prevented him from making his morning cup of tea and enjoying it at the kitchen table. 

You steeled yourself. “Come on. Savior of Baldur’s gate. Come on, get up,” you said. 

But as you slowly got up onto shaky legs you heard a familiar voice booming through the room. A second later, a great storm cloud formed above you and then doused the room in torrential rain. Your soft-soled boots caught on the wet tile floor and you slipped, falling to the ground again. Gale had casted Create Water. 

“Nine hells,” he shouted as he ran over to you, cupping your sooty face in his rough hewn hands. “Are you alright, my love?”

His hands patted over your body, then. Your arms, your hands, bending and extending your legs, checking your ribs. “Is anything broken?”

“I’m fine,” you coughed out. “Just…wet. And embarrassed.”

“Better than being incinerated. Did I leave something out–we’re working on disarming traps in class and–”

“No, no,” you said. “I–I was just trying to make dinner.”

His face contorted into an expression that looked almost affronted. “Make dinner?” he said, sounding confused. 

He looked back at the smouldering wreckage of his kitchen. “Oh no,” he said as he slumped onto his knees and slipped his hands into his wavy, brown hair. “What have you done?”

He must not have fully registered the room he’d doused, which you supposed was very sweet in it’s own way. He’d only hurried to make sure you were okay, he didn’t think for a moment on the damage. At least not at first. 

“I just…I thought that you would like to come home to dinner prepared for you, for once. I was trying to surprise you,” you said. 

“Well you most certainly succeeded in that, didn’t you?” he asked, his tone biting. “This is just what I needed after dealing with Jeremi all day. To leave a destroyed classroom to come home to a destroyed kitchen. Just–fantastic.”

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I just–”

“Tell me that you at least got your invitations done,” he snapped. “That this wasn’t some sorry excuse for a distraction from planning our wedding? That you didn’t destroy my kitchen and almost kill yourself and potentially Tara so that you could claim you forgot again?”

He looked at you, his brown eyes tired and a little sad. You almost wished you had been incinerated. You knew he didn’t need to use Detect Thoughts to read your mind. You were certain your expression said it all. 

“Your silence speaks volumes,” he said as he stood up and started cataloging the extent of the damage. 

You knew he’d just had a bad day, that the vitriol was more because of the late hours and the unpleasant surprise. The sharpness of his tone still cut like a knife. It was all you could do to sit there and watch him clean up after you. 

You usually loved to watch him do little mundane tasks with his magic. You found the delicate flourishes of his hands so charming, loved the spark of joy in his eyes as the weave spun to meet him. But watching him now, watching his sharp, staccato movements as he zipped recipe books back into place and disappeared broken glass into some pocket dimension…you felt like an utter failure of a partner to him. 

You just sat there while he worked, wanting to get up and help, but afraid that another sharp comment would eviscerate you. You’d had disagreements with him before, of course. And he had been sharp with you about a few of your more adventurous choices (he still brought up the time you licked a dead spider once in a while.) But he had never been truly, truly angry with you. Not like this. 

He opened the demolished stove and took out the raw bird sitting on the bed of potatoes. He hissed out a tight breath and brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

“I have a feeling I am not ready to hear the answer to this question, but have you changed your mind?” he asked. 

The question took you by surprise. “Changed my mind?” you asked. “About what?”

“What do you think?” he snapped, looking at you. “About the wedding. About…about marrying me.”

“What?” you asked. “Of course I haven’t changed my mind, why would you ever think something like that? I’m more excited than I’ve ever been to be a part of your family.”

“Then why?” he asked. “Why have you been avoiding writing your invitations. I have asked you to do them at least half a dozen times now, and every time you have some excuse to tell me. ‘Oh, I just got caught up in this book.’ ‘Sorry, dearest–the tadpole headache strikes again.’ And now? Now dinner?”

“Is it a crime for me to want to make dinner for my intended?” you said. 

“My love. My flawless, exquisite, darling,” he said. “You are many things. A gifted fighter, an astonishing leader, an excellent dancer, and none too shabby beneath the sheets. But you. Are not. A cook. I allowed you to cook ONE time. A singular time in our travels together and do you remember what happened?”

You pouted. “Everyone got sick,” you grumbled in a low voice. 

“YES! Everyone GOT SICK,” he shouted. “Everyone got so sick that we had to spend THREE DAYS in camp. And do you remember what you swore to me that day?”

“That I would never cook for people again,” you said. 

“THAT YOU WOULD NEVER COOK FOR PEOPLE AGAIN!” he shouted triumphantly. “So then, why, my love. Why would you be cooking now if not to avoid sending your wedding invitations? And why would you want to avoid sending your invitations unless you had changed your mind about spending the remainder of your days with me?”

You nibbled on your lip and exhaled, looking down at your soot-covered hands. 

“I don’t…” you said, almost choking on the words, almost looking for a lie. “Gale, I don’t have anyone to send invitations to. And every time I think to tell you that, I get terrified that you’ll realize the mistake you made in proposing to someone who brings nothing to the table.”

“No one to send invitations to?” he asked, seeming surprised. He looked at you with a quirked eyebrow.  “No, I’m sure that isn’t true. We’ve talked about your family before, haven’t we?”

“Not that I remember,” you said. 

“During our travels, you…we…we shared stories,” he said. “All of those times around the campfire. The nights alone between us.”

You watched as his eyes became distant, as if he’s searching his memory for some cache of data he’s stored about you. He smoothed his hand over his chin before covering his mouth with his hand. His brow furrowed and his expression saddened before he dropped his hand and crossed his arms. 

“Gods,” he said. “Every story you told us, everything you shared…tales of treachery, of bar fights and street brawls, the times you told us you almost lost a hand. All the times you told us about those…strange meals you would scrounge up with that glimmer of warm nostalgia in your eyes.”

He walked slowly over to you and kneeled in front of where you sat, still soaked to the bone and covered in soot. He took your hand in his and squeezed your fingers. 

“I may be an impressive scholar, but I am a fool, my love,” he said. “All of this time together and I was always so caught up in how lovely it felt to be truly accepted and understood. All the times you told me that I was enough for you as I am and I couldn’t even spare the proper courtesy of asking you about your family. You must think me an ogre of a man.”

You forced a little airy laugh from your lungs and shrugged. “Not much to tell about,” you said weakly, swallowing as your throat became uncomfortably tight. “Nothing really at all.”

You bit the inside of your lip and looked down at your hands again, willing yourself not to cry. You promised yourself a long time ago not to cry over this anymore. No one got to pick their hand in life, it was useless to cry over it. 

Gale cupped your cheek in his hand, angling your chin up again so you’d meet his eyes again. “I asked you to write invites to a family you didn’t have. Then you tried to make dinner for me when you couldn’t do it, and I shouted at you for ruining my kitchen. Please forgive me, my love. I have been a miserable, self-centered ass.”

“I’ll forgive you if you forgive me for ruining your kitchen?” you offered.

“You have yourself a bargain,” he said.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was soft at first; chaste, even. It reminded you of your first kiss with the girl who sold papers in the lower city. But then it changed. He scooped the hand cupping your chin back into your hair, curling the locks around his fingers before smoothing his free hand up your thigh, gripping your leg and pulling you closer. 

He hitched you up onto his hips and stood, still surprisingly strong despite the more sedentary life you both were living these days. You draped your arms over his shoulders, loosely hooking your fingers together as you tilted your head, parting your lips to breathe in that ever present scent of cinnamon and warm tea. 

He let out a low hum, the sound of his buzzing against your mouth. 

He parted from the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours as he sat you down on the charred countertop. “You are lovely,” he said. “Your beauty, your generosity? As intoxicating as any glass of wine.”

You let out a little huff and are surprised when you feel a few drops of wetness fall onto your cheeks. Gale tuts, backing up just far enough to swipe that wetness away with the rough pad of his thumb. “I’m so sorry,” you said. “I…I never cry.”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he said. “Don’t you even think about it.”

You gave a sheepish smile and exhaled, nodding once. 

“You know what?” he said. “The kitchen can wait.”

“But your morning tea…” you said. 

“Tomorrow, you and I will get tea together at that little bakery I haven’t had a chance to show you, yet. And tonight? Tonight we’ll walk to the vendor down the road, we’ll get some delicious Waterdhavian street food and we won’t think at all about the origin of said food, trust me, it’s not worth it,” he said. “And then we will cuddle up on the balcony and I will ask you extensively and exhaustively about your life before you met me.”

“What if you don’t like what you hear?” you asked. “What if I was never honest, or smart? What if I didn’t have a wholesome youth like you did?”

“My love,” he said. “When you met me I was a man with a tadpole in my brain and an orb in my chest that would level the whole of Waterdeep if I didn’t eat your precious magic artefacts. I was a man who tried to become a god, and when I thought of making the same mistake a second time, you’re the one who talked sense back into me. You’re the one who showed me that I was worthy of love, just like this.”

You smiled and nodded as he kissed your forehead. “You’re a remarkable wizard of great renown,” you teased. 

“I’m just a man, and a teacher with a student who seems intent on torturing me,” he said. “I’m also remarkably humble.”

“And?” you said. 

“And nothing you do or say could make me stop loving you,” he said, “Not even you…destroying my beautiful, wonderful kitchen.”

“I thought I was forgiven,” you said with a look. 

“I have most certainly forgiven, but I have not yet forgotten, my love,” he said. 

“Perhaps I could remedy that tonight, after your questions,” you suggested, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Give you a bit of a distraction.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time you made me forget something with your diversions,” he said. “That sounds like the perfect way to end the night.”

“Well, then, let’s get cleaned up and go buy some of that questionable food,” you said. 

“With pleasure.”

#writing community #writers on tumblr #writing #authors #writeblr #my writing #fan fic #fanfic #bg3 headcanons #bg3 romance #bg3 gale #bg3 gale fanfic #tav x gale #reader x gale #reader x gale bg3

[leosxrealm]

ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴄʜᴍᴀᴋᴇʀ

pairing(s): single dad! Carlos x male! teacher! reader

warning(s): mostly fluff! Carlos has a daughter named Lucia

(a/n): milo and i were brainrotting and he sent in this amazing request. Milo, my love, this one's for you♡ @miloformula123fan hope you like it :]

wc: 1.7k

!not proofread!

"Okay Lucia, do you know where your auntie is?" you crouch down in front of the 4-year-old girl as you question her. She shakes her head, hugging her panda stuffie closer to her. You could see the sadness in her eyes; all her friends had already left with their parents or guardians, but baby Lucia was still not here. You understood that her father was a busy man, so her aunt usually picked her up. It seemed like she was running late today.

You try to distract her. "How is Mr. Bamboo doing?" you question, smiling at her, hoping she would smile back. She does. A bright toothy grin blooms on her face. "Mr. Bamboo is so cool!" she exclaims, her eyes shining brightly, "He protected me from the monster last night!" 

"Monster?" you question, amusement dancing in your eyes. She nods rapidly, her expression changing. "There was a big monster under my bed," she says, eyes wide, and mouth slightly agape. She uses her hand to show the size of the supposed monster, Mr. Bamboo dangling from one of her hands. 

"And what did Mr. Bamboo do?" you question, copying her expression. "He scared them away!" She says, throwing her arms in the air.

"Uhm." You turn your head to the door when you hear someone clear their throat.

A tall man stood there, in a bright red jacket, his hair a bit messy. "Papa!" Lucia exclaims, running up to the man with open arms. He crouches down, opening up his arms for the little girl. "Hi, baby. How was your day?" He smiles at his daughter, tucking her messy hair behind her ears. "Mario asked me to be his girlfriend again! I told him I don't like him and he started crying and only stopped when  Mr. Y/N hugged him," she continues to ramble on, before stopping all of a sudden. 

She smiles brightly at her father, taking his hand, to drag him to where you were standing. "Papa! This is Mr. Y/n," she says excitedly, "Mr. Y/n! Meet Papa!"

"Carlos," the man says, extending his hand. "Y/n. Nice to meet you, Mr. Carlos," you smile warmly at the man. "Please, Carlos is fine," he says reciprocating the smile. "I insist," he adds, after seeing the hesitation in your face. "Okay. Carlos, it is." He chuckles, giving your hand a small squeeze before dropping it.

"You ready to go home, princesa?" he questions his daughter. She pouts shaking her head. "Why? What's wrong?" he crouches down in front of her. "Can we please ask Mr. Y/n to come over for dinner?" She asks him, looking up at him with her doe eyes, quite similar to her father's. "I'm sure Mr. Y/n has his own stuff to do. We shouldn't disturb him," he gives her an apologetic smile. 

Tears pool in her eyes, her bottom lips jutting out. "Please...?" she asks in such a tiny voice that you almost miss her from where you were standing. "Uh..." Carlos hesitates, but seeing the look on her face, he quickly gets up, straightening his clothes. He moves to stand in front of you. 

"Carlos, it's fine," you say, "I understand you're a busy man." "No, it's alright. I want to invite you as well," he says with a charming smile, "I would love it if you could join us for dinner when you're free. And Lucia too," he adds, his big brown eyes almost making you pack up right then and there and leave with them. "I would love to join you two," you give him an apologetic smile, "but I have some work to do right now. It would take me at least a few hours." 

"I understand. Maybe Saturday if you're free then?" he questions, a hopeful look in his eyes. "Um... Yes, I think I'm free on Saturday," you say, a smile gracing your features. Carlos thinks he just fell in love with his daughter's teacher. "That's great! Saturday it is then. I'll text you the details," he pulls out his phone, not giving you any time to think as he pushes the phone in your direction. 

You take the phone from his hand, your fingers brushing against his. Typing in your number, you hand it back. He pockets his phone, turning towards his daughter. All traces of tears vanished from her face. Carlos laughs; he knew it was all an act to get him to do something. Even knowing this, he couldn't deny his precious daughter's request.

You bring Lucia's bag to him, while he helps her with her coat. "I'll pick you up on Saturday. You don't have to worry about driving all the way," he takes the bag from your hands. "It's fine! Really. I don't want to trouble you with that," you try to politely refuse his offer. "You wouldn't be troubling me. It's the least I can do."

Welp, he seemed really adamant about it. You don't think you could have refused his offer no matter how hard you try, so you give up. "I'll see you on Saturday," he says, now, standing at the door. 

"We!" Lucia tugged at the hand she was holding. "Yes, yes, I know, forgive me," Carlos chuckles, looking down at his daughter. "We'll see you on Saturday," he corrects himself. "See you on Saturday!" you wave goodbye to them, going back inside to finish up the rest of the work.

---

You hear a knock on the door as you're fixing the collar of your shirt. You rush around the apartment to get to the door. "Carlos! Hi!" you open the gate to see Carlos standing in front of you, wearing a black button-down shirt, with black slacks; a small bouquet of red roses in his hand. 

"Y/n," he smiles, extending his hand towards you, "These are for you." "Ca- Carlos, why the flowers?" you ask with a bashful smile. "I don't like to come empty-handed," he smiles.

You take the bouquet from him, inviting him inside as you try to find a vase. "I'll be there in a minute," you say, peeking your head out of your room to Carlos who is sitting in the living room. "It's fine. Take your time."

"I'm ready. Let's go," you say as you emerge from your room. You pick up the keys to your apartment, Carlos following you out. You make idle talk with him as you make your way to his car. You didn't even notice it when he opened the gate for you. Giving him a smile and a quiet thank you, you get in the car; he gets in the driver's side.

You reached his house before you knew it, the entire ride filled with conversations. He opens the gate for you again. You chuckle as you thank him once again. Going inside, you were greeted with a bear hug from baby Lucia, "Mr. Y/n!"

"Hi, Lucia. how are you doing?" you ruffle her hair. She takes a step back, craning her neck to look at you, "I'm doing good Mr. Y/n! How are you?" 

"I'm good as well."

"Lucia, at least let Mr. Y/n get inside," Carlos calls to his daughter, a soft smile on his face. "Mr. Y/n, let's go inside," she takes your hand, guiding you. "Okay okay," you laugh.

---

Dinner went smoothly, with Carlos and Lucia both sharing embarrassing memories. In that moment, you felt more than just Lucia's teacher, you felt more like a friend. What really surprised you was the fact that Carlos had cooked all the food himself. You understood now why Lucia had been asking you all kinds of questions the last few days.

"Mr. Y/n! What's your favourite food to eat?

"Hm? Why'd you ask?

"No reason! Now tell me!"

You hear the sound of a door shutting softly. You look up to see Carlos making his way toward the couch, where you sat, his wine glass in his hand. "Is she asleep?" you question the man, taking a sip of the cherry-colored drink. "Yes," he exhales. " She doesn't even ask me to tuck her in anymore," a ghost of a smile appears on his face, thinking of all the times when his precious baby used to ask him to tuck her in with the brightest smile in the world. 

"She'll always be your little girl," you smile at the Spaniard, understanding where he was coming from. "She will be. Always," he says, his words getting quieter with every word. Maybe it was the wine running in your system, but you reach out to hold his hand. Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, you try to change topics, to get his mind off that.

---

Half past eleven. Your eyes widen in surprise. You hadn't even realised it had been that late. "Oh! It seems like we both lost track of time," you look at the man beside you, "It's late. I should go home and you should get some sleep. You look tired." You put your glass on the coffee table, as you try to get up. "No wait," Carlos says as he pulls you back by the hand that was still holding yours. 

"Carlos-"

"I'll drop you. You don't have a car"

"Carlos, I'll take a cab. You're in no condition to drive," you say, lightly squeezing his hand once again.

---

"I could've dropped you home, you know?" he turns to face you. You're both standing outside his apartment building, waiting for the cab that said it would be here any minute.

"I know," you turn to him, giving him a small smile. A car pulls up in front of you two. You check it to see that it was, in fact, your ride home.

"Thank you for inviting me for dinner," you start, "The dinner was a nice change. Really, thank you." You give him one final nod, walking towards the cab waiting for you. 

"Y/n!"

You turn at the sound of your name, standing face to face with Carlos.

"Carlos? What is it-?" He leans down planting a small kiss near the corners of your lips. "Thanks for accepting my invitation," his lips curl up into a smile.

You lower your head, your cheeks turning a scarlet red. "Bye," it came out quieter than you hoped. You get into the car, glancing back at him one last time. "I'll call you later," he mouthed. You give him a smile in return, settling into your seat.

---

He didn't.

#y'all thought #formula 1 #f1 #formula 1 x reader #formula one #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz #carlos sainz x male reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 x male reader #f1 x male reader #x male reader #male reader #gay #cs55 #cs55 x reader #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz jr #ferrari #carlos sainz jr x reader #carlos sainz jr x male reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x you

[sneakyparsnipslicer]

Held In Bondage

Steve turned the key in his front door, opened it, shut it behind him and locked it. He heaved a deep sigh of relief, finally, another work day done.

Amidst the amount of change going on in Steve's life recently, it was always good to get back to his new flat. He'd been there about a month now and whilst it wasn't quite looking like a home yet, at least it was his own space to get away from the world. Today had been a stressful day at work, but then retail often is. He'd been close to a panic attack but had managed to hold it together. He took off his coat, placing it on his coat stand and walked into his living room, flopping down on the sofa and looking at the ceiling and began to contemplate what to do with the evening.

Since moving out of his parents' home, he'd found he had a lot more freedom with his spare time, able to order takeaway without his mother scolding him on wasting his money, able to purchase things online without his father questioning him on what he'd got. It was heavenly. He pulled out his phone and began scrolling through the apps, wondering where to order dinner from. Pizza Hut? Domino's? Failing that McDonald's was always cheaper. Whilst pondering food, he had a thought. Maybe he could order something other than food for the night, like a cute guy looking for a good night. He looked around and wondered about it. Why not? It was his home, it wasn't like he was bringing someone into his parents' house. Steve began to get excited at the idea and began searching dating apps. Hundreds of cute guys in his area! But eventually he decided to stop scrolling. What was he thinking? He'd never had sex before, it wasn't exactly something he'd ever been able to get any experience in. It was embarassing to think about it, but he was 30 and had never made it with a man let alone a woman. People told him he was sweet, but he'd never had the confidence to ask anyone out on a date. The more he thought about it, the more it sounded like a stupid idea. Not looking at the screen he locked his phone and decided to search his cupboards for some Pot Noodles.

After he'd prepared and eaten them, he heard a buzzing noise from in the hallway. He jumped at first, but realised it was the intercom. Probably one of the work friends coming to hang out with him. He hurried and picked up the receiver.

'Hello?' Steve asked.

'Hey, is this Steve?' asked a voice.

'Uh, yeah. Who's this?' he asked.

'Oh, you clicked on my Profile. Found your address and here I am!' the voice chuckled. Steve began to sweat, had he accidentally invited someone on one of the apps earlier without realising it?

'You gonna let me in?' asked the voice.

'Oh yeah, yeah sure. Come on up!' said Steve, pressing the button to unlock the door downstairs for the person. Steve hung up the receiver and began cursing himself.

'Why the fuck did you let them in?! You didn't even get a name! Shit!' he hissed through clenched teeth. He hurried through to his bathroom mirror, trying to smooth his hair over quickly, no time to change his clothes. His t-shirt and jeans would just have to do. He sprayed some deodrant over his body quick as he heard a knock at his door.

'Coming! Just a sec!' Steve shouted, looking at himself, taking a deep breath and nodding. He walked briskly through his hallway to his front door and swung it open.

Before him stood a person dressed from head to toe in a PVC bondage suit. Light shining off everything with gloves, boots, a mask. Not an inch of skin to be seen.

'Hey there man, nice to meet you!' said the guest, offering a hand to shake. Steve looked to it and shook it. The guest pulled him close to him and took a deep inhale.

'Mmm, Lynx Africa. Seems like someone sprayed in a hurry!' the guy chuckled, pulling back and slapping Steve heartily on the shoulder. Steve was lost for words.

'Well say something!' the guest insisted.

'You came over here dressed like that?' asked Steve, looking them up and down in surprise.

'Well sure it turns some heads, but it's kinda my deal' said the guest folding their arms, shrugging. Steve laughed nervously.

'So… do you have a name?' asked Steve.

'That all depends on you big man, what's your favourite name?' asked the guest.

'My favourite name?' asked Steve.

'Sure, like if you were getting railed what name would you want to be screaming?' asked the guest.

'Ben, I guess' said Steve.

'Ben, huh?' the guest asked.

'Yeah, I like the name Ben. Known plenty of Bens, they tend to be sweet guys' smiled Steve.

'Fair play then mate, call me Ben!' said the guest giving him two thumbs up.

'Alright, would you like to come in Ben?' asked Steve, beckoning to the front room.

'Thought you'd never ask Steve!' replied Ben, swaggering off down the hallway. Steve followed his guest. Ben looked around the front room.

'You been here long?' asked Ben.

'Only about a month' said Steve, chuckling.

'Figures. But at least you have a couch!' said Ben, walking over to the couch and sitting down, making himself at home.

'Umm, would you like a drink or something?' asked Steve, pointing to the fridge. Ben shook his head.

'Nah, I don't need to drink. Thanks for the offer. Come on and sit with me' said Ben, patting the seat next to him.

Steve gulped and made his way over to Ben. Sitting neatly beside him. Ben leaned in and put an arm over his shoulder.

'So, tell me about yourself Steve' said Ben, stroking Steve's shoulder.

'Aren't we meant to remain anonymous to eachother or something?' asked Steve.

'Well sure some people like to keep their private life secret. I like to get to know my clients so I can do my best. Go on and have a feel' said Ben, guiding Steve's hand to his chest. Steve could feel some very firm pecs under the bondage gear.

'Oh wow… do you work out?' asked Steve, turning to face him.

'Well I work some things alright!' chuckled Ben, moving his hand to stroke Steve's growing bulge. Steve began to laugh too.

'So are you a top or a bottom?' asked Ben, moving his hand to stroke Steve's thigh.

'Sorry?' asked Steve.

'When fucking. Do you like to fuck or be fucked?' asked Ben.

'Umm, actually I've never had sex before' said Steve looking away in embarassment.

'Untouched territory huh? That's ok' said Ben gently, placing his hand on Steve's jaw, moving his face to look back at him.

'It is?' asked Steve, trembling.

'Sure, every man has his first time at some point!' said Ben reassuringly. He held Steve's hand gently. Steve looked to the ceiling and exhaled, he wanted to cry from how embarassed he felt.

'Hey, hey come on mate. It's ok really!' said Ben stroking Steve's shoulders.

'Sorry, it's just you were probably expecting some nympho and you got The 30 Year Old Virgin' replied Steve. Ben giggled, but stopped shortly after.

'Steve, buddy. I know you must be feeling embarassed right now, but please try not to. I'm here to help you through it' said Ben, caressing Steve's cheek. Steve looked to Ben's mask, wondering what kind of beautiful man was behind it.

'Thanks Ben, I really appreciate you understanding' smiled Steve, at which Ben sharply nodded his head.

'Steve, do you trust me enough to make you a changed man?' asked Ben. Steve thought for a moment. Ben seemed willing enough to let him experiment, and he seemed friendly enough.

'Ok, I trust you Ben' smiled Steve.

'That's what I'm talking about Baby!' cried Ben, pulling Steve off the couch and into a tight embrace. Steve was enjoying the feeling of his chin against Ben's bondage-clad bosom.

'Well aren't you gonna cop a feel?' asked Ben, not letting Steve go.

'Cop what?' asked Steve.

'The bakery! I recommend the buns, they're nice!' insisted Ben. Steve understood what he meant and placed his hands on Ben's waist, sliding them down, he squeezed Ben's butt cheeks, firm and a lot to hold.

'Oh shit!' said Steve, surprised.

'Yes! An ass man after my own heart! Oh we're in for a good night!' laughed Ben, grabbing Steve's face and attempting to kiss him through the mask but wound up bumping him on the nose due to his mask's nozzle. The two looked at eachother for a moment, then burst out laughing. Steve was taken aback but he was loving Ben's energy. He took a moment to properly look at Ben, at how the suit was hugging his skin tightly, showing off his muscular build, his abs, his sharp jawline. He had everything Steve liked in a man.

'Are you ready to give this a go?' asked Ben. Steve nodded with a newfound confidence. He wanted to give Ben everything.

'Good, then I guess we should head to the bedroom. Giddy up!' laughed Ben, turning Steve around and smacking him on the ass. Steve began to laugh too and led the way.

On arriving in Steve's bedroom, Ben pushed Steve onto the bed and laid down on him, pinning him down. He took a good inhale of Steve's neck. Steve tried not to moan, this was so hot.

'Don't hold it in, moan if you've gotta' said Ben, grinding his crotch into Steve's. Steve held onto Ben's broad shoulders and began to gasp.

'Oh fuck yeah!' Steve moaned, biting his lower lip. He moved his hands to Ben's waist as he continued to gyrate him into the bed. Even fully clothed this felt amazing. Eventually Ben stopped and nodded.

'Alright, I'm ready' said Ben. Steve looked at him confused.

'I know you want to be inside me, I'm ready' said Ben. Steve wriggled out from under him and Ben proceeded to lay stomach down on the bed. Steve climbed back on and positioned himself over Ben's butt, excited to see who was under the plastic.

'I'll bet you're hot as fuck!' smiled Steve as he began to pull at the zip that started at Ben's neck and ended at his tailbone. Carefully zipping it down, the suit seemed to hiss. As the zipper slid further down, steam began to cloud out of the back, assailing Steve's senses. It felt warm and he could smell sweat and leather. He coughed and fanned the steam out of his face. Looking to the suit's opening expecting to see a man's back, there was nothing. The suit was hollow.

'What the hell?!' asked Steve aloud. The suit was completely empty, had he been tricked?

'Ben?!' asked Steve, looking around. He couldn't see anyone else in the room, just him and the suit.

'Maybe you should try it on!' Steve found himself thinking. He looked down at the suit and felt inside, it was warm and slippery, the texture did make him tingle a bit. He proceeded to remove his t-shirt, jeans, socks and boxers and pulled the bondage suit off the bed, climbing into it. Fitting the gloves, boots and mask on. Shortly after Steve felt a fresh wave of passion wash over him and he fell onto his bed. He gasped in surprise and then groaned. The suit was alive, he could feel it. It was squeezing and stretching him, kneading and pressing. At the same time he could feel something entering his ass, was the suit fucking him? Steve let out a scream of pleasure as the invisible force began to ride him.

'What - the - fuck - is - ha - ppe - ning?!' Steve yelled as he felt his body being compressed and moulded to fit the suit, edging closer to shooting his load.

'Just enjoy it Steve, it'll be ok!' said the suit in Ben's voice, continuing to thrust into him. Steve moaned and struggled to catch his breath.

'What does Ben look like to you Steve?' asked the suit. Steve closed his eyes and began to imagine a muscular man with dark hair and tattoos was fucking him, the kind of man he wanted to be fucked by. Steve smiled.

'Don't lose sight of him!' said the suit, continuing to fuck the cum out of Steve. He couldn't hold it back any longer and began ejaculating, crying out in pure pleasure. String after string as he imagined Ben's gorgeous face. Eventually the suit stopped and began to melt away, leaving Steve lying naked and sweaty on his bed. He turned over and groaned, aching.

'Fuck me, that was nice!' he said, wiping sweat off his forehead, chuckling. He looked at his hand, then his arm which he noticed was inked with patterns.

'Hold on…' he whispered, feeling his chest. Big pecs, abs, he looked down at his body. He gasped and hurried over to the mirror, being greeted by the man he'd just imagined, by… Ben!

'Is this… did I just become Ben?!' he asked. He felt his ass, big and firm. Yep, that was the same ass he'd felt not half an hour ago. And there was no denying his voice either.

'Oh shit! I'm Ben!' cried Ben, laughing.

'Or was Ben even real? Was I Ben all along? Did Ben and I become one person?' Ben asked. He looked to his bed, the suit had completely vanished leaving no trace of it ever having been there. The more he thought about it, the more he could only remember being Ben as far back as forever, filling his 20s with gym workouts and banging guys on the sly, moving out of his parents' place recently and working retail, spending some evenings as a PVC-clad sex maniac. Almost felt like two lives melded into one.

'Well whatever, gotta get some sleep. Work in the morning!' Ben chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. He turned his attention to a pile of clothes on his bedroom floor. The boxers read the name 'Steve'. Ben wondered who that could be. Couldn't say he knew many Steves. Must've been a client or something, probably a sweet guy. He must've left his stuff here.

'Ah well, if he needs his stuff he knows where I am!' Ben said, giving the t-shirt a sniff.

'Hmm, Lynx Africa. That's adorable!' he chuckled, smiling. Somehow it felt familiar.

#gay #male tf #male transformation

[angelkhi]

santa's little helper - j.m

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: you get more than you bargained for being santa’s little helper.

warnings: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), thigh riding, fingering, dirty talk, some cursing, unprotected sex in an apocalypse (big dumb bitches), creampie (even bigger dumber bitches), pet names, age gap, low-key feral joel, a little bit of pining if you take off your glasses and squint. idk i’m writing this post crimbo dinner prep i’m tired.

word count: 2k

a little note: the logistics of when the breakout started and when the reader was born do not make sense but that is not my fault i'm not a scientist and i'm bad at math. anyways here's my singular christmas fic. to anyone that celebrates merry christmas, and to those who don't, have a lovely december 🫶🏾 (also not proofread i’m tired and it’s christmas)

Christmas is one of the few traditions kept alive in Jackson, with handmade paper decorations about the houses, small Christmas trees nursed to health with the help of Joel, children running around singing festive songs you'd missed for so many years. You felt truly alive for the first time in a long time.

Joel's smile is light, barely visible behind the beard curated from yarn, but you’re close enough to see his upturned lips. His eyes flick over your outfit, a green t-shirt turned dress, some striped tights and a stroke of damn near magic with long expired makeup transforming you into Santa’s little helper.

"Cute as a button." He mumbles. A steady stream of children enter the makeshift grotto and you don't get to enquire. Not that you would. Your whole body is ablaze with nervousness, Joel's comment striking deep, so deep in fact you probably could've foreign caking deep pink out of date blush to your cheeks. He’s one of the few good men left in this world, and his rugged looks are an added bonus, so it’s no wonder you keen for his approval.

The day goes off without a hitch, the smiles on the children's faces when they got to meet the Father Christmas, the endless amounts of crayon covered decorations each kid got to design, the supply of sugar cookies that dwindled far too quickly. You almost felt bad for the sugar rush their parents would have to deal with later on in the evening. But they wouldn’t care. It’s Christmas.

By the end of the night you’re beyond tired. A few stranglers help with some off he menial tidying, but you send them on their way, your morning plans of self indulgent cleaning spree at risk of being disrupted.

The town is quiet, but brightly lit when you lock the double doors, and you use the rare moment of peace and quiet to appreciate all that you’ve endured.

"Let me walk you home." You yelp quietly, the voice from the darkness unexpected. Though not unwelcome when you spy Joel's broad shoulder leaning against the old barn.

"You scared the shot out of me" You pause to catch your beating. He looks apologetic and for a moment you're worried you upset him "You don't have to do that."

"Walk you home or scare the shit out of you?" You chuckle.

"Not scaring the shit out of me would be nice, but you don’t have to walk me home Joel." In fact you can see your home from where you’re standing it’s so close.

"I know. I want to."

Joel fears that's about as close as hell get to a confession. He admired your normalcy in a world far beyond it. He admired you, albeit secretly.

The two of you walk in silence, until he’s walking up your porch stairs and you’re panicking about the once welcomed silence, filling it with an invitation into your home. He accepts with a quiet smile, taking in the festive lights and handcrafted decor.

You guide him through the small hallway into a tiny living room, filled with random trinkets and furniture that’s worse for wear. Its more homely than his humble abode, and it screams you, warm and inviting.

He leans back into the worn sofa, his legs spread. Even in the Santa Clause get up you're not sure how to place yourself. It's Joel Miller for heavens sakes. A part of him secretly enjoys your nervous energy as you hover in front of him, not sure what exactly to do with yourself.

"Here come sit." Joel pats the faded velour, "tell me what you want."

He suggested it without thinking, and of course you comply. You’d walk into a building full of infected if he asked. Something shifts when you find yourself in his lap, you wonder if he notices it too, the way the air in the room suddenly grew thicker filled with something you’re not sure you’d ever be brave enough to act on. Your palms grow clammy. Breathe.

Joel is dumbfounded at just how perfect you look in his lap. He’d keep you there forever if he could. His hands rest on your thighs, thumbs guiding a small driving small patterns into the striped tights. He dips his head low, trying to meet your downcast eyes.

“I want you Joel.” The admission has your cheeks tingling in slight embarrassment and an underlying fear of rejection.

"That's it sweet girl. Use your words and i'll give you anything you want."

Those hands slip beneath your dress, a wide palm cupping your warm cunt. He holds your gaze, watching and waiting.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“That so?” He hums, eyes raking over your almost innocent face, then down to where your hips meet his. Two fingers tap your thigh and a commanding ‘up’ is spoken. You raise your hips as he asks, you’d do anything he asked in that moment. Joel’s hands snake around the back of your thighs, pausing for a brief moment before gripping the scratchy tights and pulling with vigor. They split easily under the force, exposing you to him. He thumbs the edge of your panties for a moment, the small creases in his forehead deepening when he takes you in.

"Red lace? Where on earth did you get these?" His tone is light, punching through the heavy thickness in his throat and he tries to collect himself, just for a moment.

"I don't scavenge and tell Mr Miller." You chide playfully.

“Don't care where you got em from as long as I get to keep em."

"Then earn them." Joel smiles, not one to back down from a challenge, giving you a small and simple nod.

He’s so gentle when he places you on the sofa you’re lost for a moment, then he’s on his knees in front of you, hands on your thighs spreading you open. His thumb traces over the wet gusset of the almost transparent lace, a perfectly harsh pressure building when he rests on your clit. He doesn’t bother wasting time taking off the pretty underwear opting to pull them aside instead.

All of that sweetness, all of the hesitation flies out of the window when he finally catches a glimpse of you, so ready for him. Joel’s sharp tongue is sweeping against you in a bruising rhythm, nipping and sucking on your exposed clit. He’s impatient and determined, losing himself in how good you taste, showing no mercy when you grind yourself against him, gasping when your clit swipes against the soft bump of his nose. Your hands swipe through his salt and pepper waves, pulling him closer and he decides then that he’d happily die between your thighs. Your soft whimpers grow louder until they’re high pitched whines whilst you chase the orgasm he’s so desperate to give you.

“Fuck Joel.” Your fingers tighten around his soft hair, his rough fingers curling your weeping hole. All it takes is on hooked finger pressing up against that spot, one more soft drag of his tongue and you’re finished. Joel’s hips buck up at nothing when you cum on his face, making those pretty noises, hips clean off the couch cushions as you ride out your orgasm. But he doesn’t let up, fingers moving at a languid pace.

"Gimme one more. One more and i'll fuck your pretty cunt so good you'll feel me for days." Cocky bastard.

You’ve clearly lost all sense, because you nod like you have anything left to give.

He doesn’t stop, not until you’re thighs are practically shaking around his head, and you can barely keep your head on your shoulders. He looks so proud of himself when you find the energy to open your eyes. Like he could walk away untouched, your release giving him all the pleasure he needs.

He manoeuvres your pliant body back into his lap, hands cupping your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek.

"I ain't gonna be sweet on ya." Lies. He's already more than sweet on you, half way to smitten and too much of a coward to confess. If he were one for making rash decisions he'd be on one knee begging you to marry him and making you cum on his face. Though he wouldn't need a rash decision for the latter.

"Don't want you to be soft on me Joel. Please." You grind your hips into his growing bulge, shuddering breaths drowning out your weak plea. You make quick work of pulling down the handmade red trousers, hesitating only for a moment when your fingers rest on the waistband of his boxer shorts.

Joel’s chest heaves a little when your soft hands grip him, dragging the shiny pink head of his cock against your wet cunt, slipping him into your sopping hole with ease.

“That’s it. Take what you need.” He rests a guiding hand on your hip, until your flush against him, taking him to the hilt.

“So good for me.” This man and his fucking mouth.

He presses his mouth against yours, kissing you and claiming you all at once. His lips are surprisingly soft, a heavy contrast to the way he’s gripping your hips, pulling you flush against him. It’s not lost on you that he’s doing all the work but there’s not a single thought left in your head, just Joel and how he feels and sounds.

"Got you nice and full don't I?" You try to speak, honestly you do, but all that comes out is a pathetic whine. "Too fucked out to speak. Look at ya', so perfect all for me."

There is nothing that could pry you away from each other in that moment, your panting breaths, the slight tinge of sweat, burnt sugar and pine in the air. Joel's illicit grunts and your soft screams.

He finds some restraint and pauses, somehow placing you flat on your back, the soft couch cushions moulding around your body, worn out springs creaking beneath the weight of you both.

He cages you in, relishing as you practically melt into the worn leather sofa. His fingers hook under your knee, lifting your thigh higher, the small amount of strain forgotten when he sinks back into you hard and deep.

He takes almost as much as he gives, driving his hips in a harsh rhythm chasing his release, watching the way your body responds to him. Pretty lips parted, eyes closed so tight, pussy clenching around him. Nothing will ever feel this good. Joel thumbs at your clit once again, and he completely surrounds you. He’s so deep you can just about breathe, his deep grunts and guttural moans floating about your once boring living room.

He gives you your third orgasm of the evening, and you feel everything but nothing all at once. There’s nothing but him and you and the knowing that you’d never felt this good before and nothing would ever come close again. His thrusts are relentless, your wet cunt clenching around him sending him over that perfect ledge. Your name is the only thing on his lips when he cums so deep, you’re not sure where he ends and you begin. He’s completely still, muscles taught goading himself through his orgasm, the feeling nothing short of euphoric.

Joel’s hands find your face again, that softness ever present and he melts into your body, your lips.

“Honey you with me?" He asks after a short moment, his voice hoarse. You nod at first, but he’s looking for words, words you’re struggling to find with what little bit of energy you have left.

"I'm with you. Seeing fucking stars but i'm with you." Joel's shoulders grow less tense at your reassurance. He nods, calloused fingers exploring your cool skin all over again. You gasp in unison when he slips out of you, tucking himself into his boxers and pulling your panties back into place.

"So. Did I earn my keep?" The elastic twangs against your skin and the pair of you share a breathy laugh.

"Sure did. I'm all about giving, in the spirit of christmas of course." He smiles, more triumphant than cocky, though it morphs into a look of pure determination when you speak again.

"Did I mention I have them in black too?"

#smut #tlou smut #tlou #tlou hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal smut #the last of us smut #the last of us hbo #joel miller x reader smut #christmas fic