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august126 · 1 month

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Scenes from an Italian Restaurant

Pairing: dbf!Joel x Reader

Summary: Joel Miller is a lot of things: your dad’s best friend, your boss, your next-door neighbor. And, y'know, the guy you’ve been harboring a massive crush on since your freshman year of college.

You're pretty sure your feelings aren't reciprocated... until one night that changes everything.

Warnings:Age Difference,Joel is 49 and Reader is 24,Oral Sex,Car Sex,semi-public sex (sort of),Flirting,Masturbation, and Dirty Talk

Words:12,334

a/n: so sorry it took me almost a month to post something new ffs - life got busy and my inspiration simultaneously disappeared.

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“Y’know, while ‘m happy that you’re livin’ with me again, I’d appreciate it f’ya started tryin’ to find a job that put that fancy degree t’use.” You peer over the top of the book you’d been reading at your dad, who’s taking up a spot at the end of your pool chair. His arms are crossed over his navy work shirt, drenched in sweat from working all day in the roiling heat customary of a Texas summer, and he’s watching you expectantly for an answer.

You set your book on your chest and sigh. It’s not that you aren’t thankful or don’t appreciate your dad allowing you to move back in with him after graduating from college a year ago. You fully understand how fortunate you are not to have to worry about paying rent; you’re also eternally grateful to your dad for hooking you up with a decent-paying job as a secretary at the contracting business his best friend owns. However, you were getting very, very tired of having this conversation.

“And you know that I am lookin’, but it’s silly for me t’apply for an entry-level position at a firm that’s gonna pay me less than what ‘m makin’ now.” Your dad rolls his eyes and grumbles something snippy under his breath, his go-to combo when he doesn’t like that you’re right. You pin him with a pointed stare. “Care to repeat that?”

“Said maybe I oughta tell Joel to dock your pay then,” your dad states, but any lingering irritation in his tone dissipates by the time he’s finished speaking. He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, and his slight frown turns into a small, teasing smile.

“Somebody say my name?” Your gaze shifts from your dad to the sliding glass door behind him… or, rather, the man who opened it.

Joel Miller is a lot of things: your dad’s best friend, your boss, your next-door neighbor. And, y'know, the guy you’ve been harboring a massive crush on since your freshman year of college. Currently, Joel Miller is the tanned, broad, tall man striding leisurely through your backyard, navigating around your pool, and stopping beside your father.

He slaps a hand on your dad’s shoulder in greeting and shoots you a bright grin as he coos, “Hey, lady.” Although Joel’s addressed you with the pet name for years, it never fails to cause an eruption of butterflies in your belly and a crimson blush to paint your cheeks.

“Hey, Joel,” you respond, trying to appear nonchalant even as you’re reining in your thundering heart and halting the pulse throbbing just south of your belly button. “Dad was jus’ sayin’ how he’s gonna ask ya to give me a pay cut.” Joel turns to your father, shaking his head.

“And risk losin’ my best employee? No can do, bud.” Even if he’s only joking, you preen at Joel’s praise. You cock an eyebrow at your dad, waiting for some sort of a comeback, but he only glares at you both before huffing.

“I don’t like when the two of ya gang up on me.” You giggle, and Joel shoots you a lazy wink and a warm, victorious smile. “Anyway,” your dad turns his attention back to Joel, “you said reservation’s at 6:45?”

“Uh-huh, so we oughta get our asses movin’,” Joel asserts, and your dad starts heading swiftly back toward your house. Joel’s eyes shift to you, still lounging on your purple pool chair, and he nudges your foot with the toe of his boot. “That means you too, lady.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“Sarah’s birthday,” Joel answers incredulously, and a lightbulb goes off in your head; that’s why you felt like you were forgettin’ something all day. “Please tell me ya didn’t forget my daughter’s birthday. Your friend’s birthday,” Joel teases, shaking his head in feigned disappointment.

“ Of course I didn’t forget,” you lie, narrowing your eyes. Joel sees right through it.

“I bet. Now go get changed ‘fore ya make us late … unless you plan on wearin’ that to dinner.” The blush you just managed to school comes back in full force as he unabashedly rakes his eyes over your body, and only now do you realize how little the tiny black bikini you’re wearing covers.

Joel’s pretty brown eyes, usually so teeming with emotion, are utterly unreadable as you stand from your chair and begin heading inside. As you pass him, you mumble, “Don’t see why you’re complainin’.”

“Didn’t think I was.” You stumble a bit, glancing over your shoulder to find Joel’s gaze slowly sweeping down your body. When his stare lands on your ass, practically bare save for the minuscule cover your bikini bottom provides, his attention snaps back to your face, an impish grin on his lips that makes your skin flush.

“Fuck off, old man,” you reply cooly, flipping him off as you saunter inside; you can still feel Joel’s gaze on you as you ascend the stairs, and if that makes you sway your hips more than usual… well, who the fuck cares?

Once you’ve entered your bedroom and stripped off your bathing suit to assemble an outfit for dinner, your mind drifts into a space you’ve grown all too familiar with over the last five years.

It wasn’t like you didn’t understand how wrong your crush on Joel Miller was. Ignoring the fact that he’s been your dad’s best friend for years, he’s also over two decades your senior and has a daughter only a few years younger than you. It’s disgusting, really, that you have even the slightest hint of attraction toward the man. And yet…

You really can’t find it in yourself to care. You’re no longer a college student parading around under the guise of adulthood. No, you’re a woman now, a woman with autonomy who is perfectly capable of making her own choices. If one of those choices is fucking her dad’s best friend, well, then so be it.

Even as you tell yourself this for the thousandth time, the sentiment feels weak. Sure, the opportunity to fuck Joel Miller is perfectly viable, in theory. However, so many things would have to go right for a thing like that to happen, and you are a notoriously unlucky person; quite frankly, you can count on one hand the number of times you’ve gotten lucky to the degree that you would need to for something like having sex with Joel to happen.

For one, no one would ever be able to find out. Your dad, Sarah, any of your nosey neighbors. Not to mention that the logistical feat of such a thing would be tricky. Where would you guys meet up? Not your house, not his house, and anything public like a bar would be far too risky. No, it would have to be a one-off deal, and you’re not so sure you’d be able to stop at just a single taste of Joel.

And that’s all assumin’ he’d even want me, you think as you comb through your closet looking for a summer dress right for the occasion. Joel Miller had never, never shown a flicker of interest in you. That display by the pool, him ogling your ass in your skimpy bikini? That was just him keeping up the incessant string of banter that passed between the two of you. Sure, he was older than you, but that didn’t matter when it came to the way he treated you, as if you were his friend.

Right, his friend.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. This line of thinking was an absolute rabbit hole, forcing you down, down, down until there was a headache ebbing at your temples and your veins were licking with equal parts frustration and lust.

Three quick knocks come on your door, and your head whips around at the sound, pulling you out of your Joel-induced stupor. “Hey, lady?”

Fuck. You stand in your closet, stunned into inaction like a deer in headlights as you realize the only thing separating you, butt-ass naked, and Joel is the mahogany of your closed bedroom door.

“Just checkin’ to see ‘f you’re ready yet. Sarah jus’ texted, said her and what’s-his-face are waitin’ at the restaurant.” You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. You off-handedly wonder why you haven’t just slipped a dress on over your head on the off chance Joel decides to swing open your door, and you realize with a sick sort of excitement that you wouldn’t entirely mind Joel walking into your room at this very moment.

“Almost,” you call out, forcing your words to come out smooth as the image of Joel entering your room enters your mind unbidden; you imagine how his eyes would take in your naked form, how it’d take three short strides for him to reach you, how he might drop his head and lick one of your already hardened nipples into his warm, waiting mouth. You swallow thickly before calling out, “Just need another second s’all.”

A dull throb begins at the apex of your thighs as you picture the man on the other side of the wall putting his rough, work-worn hands all over your soft, supple skin. You wonder what his calloused touch would feel like against your flesh, if his honeyed skin would grow rosy under the thorough ministrations of your wet tongue, if his eyes would grow dark and a deep groan would drip from his lips as you closed your mouth around his-

“Sweetheart? Y’alright in there?” You think you mumble an airy affirmation as you mindlessly trace your fingers along your collarbone, imagining that they’re longer, thicker, belonging to another individual entirely. Any semblance of rationality escapes you as your other hand creeps down the smooth skin of your belly, and you cup your sex with a groan you’re barely able to muffle. You’re so outside of yourself, caught up in the slow path your fingers are tracing along your body, that you don’t notice the doorknob begin to turn.

Only when your door starts to lurch open do you fall back into your body from where you were floating a few seconds earlier. Your eyes blow wide, a strangled cry of surprise and horror falling from your mouth as you realize the precarious situation you’re about to be thrust into. “WAIT.”

The slow sway of your door opening halts immediately, and you let out a breath, spinning on your heel to face your closet. “I- ‘m jus’ comin’ in t’make sure you’re alright.” You hastily decide on a sage green strapless dress, something you can slip into quickly and inconspicuously, and rip the silk garment from its hanger.

“Yeah, no, ‘m good, Joel. Great, I’m great, jus’… yeah, gimme a sec.” You throw the dress on, its hem falling to your mid-thigh as you grab a pair of strappy sandals from the bottom of your closet and slip one on, hopping into the other as you approach your door.

“Y’sure, baby? Ya sound-” You slip your shoe on and grab the door handle in one movement, opening it fully to give you an unobstructed view of the man you’d just been on the verge of touching yourself to. Wouldn’t be the first time, you think to yourself unhelpfully.

He’s looking down at you, concern and curiosity bubbling in his gaze, and you raise your eyebrows at him. “See? ‘m fine, all good. Jus’ needed a minute.” Joel’s eyes blaze a lackadaisical trail over your body, and you swear you can feel him cataloging each inch of bare skin you have on display. He reaches out, plucking one of the flimsy green spaghetti straps between his thick fingers before letting it go to snap back against your shoulder. You stifle a gasp, and he brushes the hair careening down your chest back over your shoulder.

“This is pretty,” he says, voice low and velvety, and you can feel your pussy beginning to grow wet at his praise. He bends down until his mouth hovers just next to your ear, and you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of him: musky cologne and citrusy body wash and something unidentifiable yet so undoubtedly Joel. “Did ya mean t’be wearin’ it backward?”

You look down at yourself, heat rising to your face when you realize that he’s right: you’ve managed to put your dress on the wrong way. You shove Joel’s shoulder, and he takes a step back, a smug grin painted on his lips that makes you roll your eyes.

“You’re a dick, y’know that?” He chuckles at your dig, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“And you’re makin’ us late to this dinner. Now, can I trust ya to fix your dress yourself, or do ya need me to help?” He delivers it like a joke, and the logical part of your brain reminds you of that the moment your pulse begins to flutter. He’s just teasin’ you like he always does.

However, the dark, hunger-tinged stare Joel is pinning you with doesn’t feel humorous. You swallow thickly, saliva pooling in your mouth and pinning your tongue to the roof. “I-” you stutter, words failing you as he continues dragging his eyes slowly over your flustered form. “You-”

“Spit it out, baby.” Baby. You turn the endearment over in your head a few times, testing the weight of it on your tongue. Finally, the corners of your lips pull up in a cheeky smile and your eyelids grow heavy as you gaze up into Joel’s face.

“You askin’ to undress me, Miller?” And this doesn’t feel like your typical banter. No, this feels weighted, laced with something headier. Something full of innuendo and promises and an unquenchable appetite for… something. And then your dad’s voice is cutting harshly through the fog.

“Hey hon, I’ll be- oh, Joel, didn’t realize ya came up here.”

Joel doesn’t even spare your dad a glance, eyes still on you as he says, “Jus’ wanted to check and see if your slow-ass kid was ready t’go.” Your dad snorts, and you narrow your eyes at Joel before turning the withering look to your father.

“Don’t laugh at that.”

“Sorry, sweetie, but ya are kinda slow.” Joel’s smirk only grows, and you huff incredulously. Your dad, apparently oblivious to the bubble of tension he popped, continues. “Anywho, was jus’ sayin’ that I’m gonna head out to the car ‘cause we need t’get goin’, so quit your dilly dallyin’ and let’s get a move on.” He raises his eyebrows at you expectantly, and you sigh in defeat.

You look at the ground as you mutter, “Yes, Dad, ‘m just about ready,” and your reply is met with a loud clap of your father's hands.

“Wonderful!” he exclaims, rubbing his palms together before bringing a heavy hand down on Joel’s shoulder. “C’mon, Joel, you can wait with me in the car. I need t’talk to ya ‘bout some work shit anyway.” Your dad begins to drag Joel down the stairs, but not before Joel can get the last word in between you.

He cranes his head back, catching your glare as he descends the stairs. “Y’heard your daddy, no more dilly dallyin’,” he sing-songs, and you scoff.

“Oh, fuck you, Miller.” “Language, ma’am,” you hear your dad chastise sternly, and you grumble a half-assed apology as you close your bedroom door behind you. It only takes you a minute to flip your dress so that you’re wearing it the correct way and throw on a pair of light pink, lace panties, bounding down the stairs and out the front door when you’re ready. Before you know it, you’re seated in the backseat of Joel’s old pickup truck as it cruises down the highway toward Austin’s metro area.

You watch the residential neighborhoods littered with little kids running through sprinklers and elderly couples sitting in chairs on their front porches morph into the city, full of streets tightly lined with buildings and bar-hoppers entering their first destination of the night. The sun still hangs rather high in the sky, dappling the world in a warm amber glow as Joel pulls up outside a quaint Italian bistro nestled between an ice cream parlor full of bright-eyed children and a sushi restaurant rattling with the heavy bass of the music from within.

“Cute lil’ place,” you say, surveying the old brick exterior of the building and the burgundy awning hanging over the open front door that bears the name of the restaurant, Palermio’s, in loopy, white script. “Sarah’s choice?”

Joel reaches his hand behind your dad’s headrest, using one hand to turn the wheel while he starts to squeeze his truck into the last snug parking spot outside of the bistro. “No, darlin’, I did.” You stare at his side profile as he maneuvers the truck, surprise lacing your features. It’s not until he’s parked the car and meets your eyes in the rearview mirror as he’s straightening out in his seat that you realize he’s bullshitting you.

“Asshole,” you mutter under your breath as you throw open your door and slide from the backseat, and he’s following you a second later.

“Y’know, you oughta be nicer t’me. I am your boss,” he says as you round his truck, his arm brushing yours, and you look up at him. “Could fire ya for bein’ disrespectful, ‘f I really wanted to.” You smirk at him and shrug.

“Ya could, but then you’d be losin’ your best employee, right?” His chest bounces as he laughs, and you smile at the pleasant noise before getting distracted by how his relatively new-looking cream-colored t-shirt bearing the album cover of Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors stretches tautly over the slopes of his wide shoulders.

“Damn right, lady,” he agrees, his gaze crawling over your body as he drags his thumb over his mostly pepper, slightly salt mustache that decorates his upper lip. Your skin crawls pleasantly as you feel him examining you, and you’re just about to reach your father, who’s waiting for the two of you by the entrance to the restaurant, when you hear Joel quietly say, “Prettiest employee, too.”

Your head whips around, feet planting on the concrete as you wait for Joel to say something, anything else. Much to your chagrin, he struts right past you shamelessly, heading inside as your dad gives you a confused look.

“You comin’, honey?” You shake your head, trying to dispel the medley of thoughts whirring around your brain. Did I hear him right? No, no, he didn’t mean that. Definitely not.

“Yeah, sorry,” you say, stepping inside with a sheepish smile in your dad’s direction. “Thought I heard someone callin’ my name, ‘s my bad.” Your dad just nods his head in understanding before draping an arm over your shoulder and steering you toward the back of the restaurant, where you can see Joel already greeting the members of your party who have already arrived.

As you draw closer, you watch him envelope his daughter in a firm hug, rocking back and forth for a few seconds as he whispers something in her ear. She giggles, punching him lightly in the shoulder, and when Sarah pulls back from his embrace, her deep brown eyes, which are almost identical to her father’s, catch a glimpse of you over his shoulder. Before you have a chance to react, she’s colliding with you so hard you grunt.

“You came!” she squeals, jumping up and down as you wrap your arms around her and giggle.

“Course I came, Sarah. Wouldn’t ‘ve missed your twenty-first birthday for the world, ‘re ya kiddin’?” She takes a step back, holding you by the shoulders before drawing you back in for another tight hug.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Jus’ didn’t know ‘f you’d be able to make it, didn’t know ‘f you’d have other plans or somethin’.” She bites her lip when you pull away this time, trying to hide the way she’s beaming at you, and a big smile paints your face.

“Nah, no plans more important than my best friend’s birthday.” She smiles and leads you back to the table, where your dad and Joel have already found their seats. You lean against her and whisper conspiratorially, “Did have to fight with my boss t’get some time off for the occasion, though. He can be a pain in the ass sometimes, like ya wouldn’t believe.” Sarah giggles, leveling you with a knowing grin.

“I’m sure I’ve got some idea,” she says as she takes her seat at the head of the table, and you slip around to take the only empty seat, which happens to be between Joel and Tommy, his younger brother that you’ve only seen a handful of times. You offer the younger Miller brother a polite smile, which he returns with a cheeky smirk before you turn back to the birthday girl.

“You’ve ain’t ever been that excited t’see me,” Joel says accusingly at Sarah, jerking his head toward where Sarah had practically tackled you, and you stifle a laugh at the hint of playful jealousy in his tone.

“‘s ‘cause I’m not a grumpy old man,” you snark, and Tommy guffaws beside you, reaching around your back to slap Joel’s shoulder lightheartedly.

“She gotcha there, big brother,” he says, accent saturated with his heavy Texas twang. Joel grumbles something incoherent and Tommy shoots you an amused wink. You watch your dad snort with laughter in his seat across from you, and Sarah’s boyfriend, Luke, who’s seated on her other side opposite Joel tries not to look too entertained by your ribbing of his girlfriend’s father, wisely busying himself with the menu.

A few minutes after ordering your drinks your waitress reappears carrying a large tray brimming with an assortment of alcoholic beverages. You take a sip of your Pinot Noir, hiding a small smile behind the fruity flavor as the waitress sets a large cocktail layered with green, white, and red liquid and adorned with a small Italian flag attached to a thin, black straw in front of a wide-eyed Sarah. You’re unable to mask your laughter, however, when Joel’s eyes find the massive drink and he nearly chokes on his sip of Peroni.

“Babygirl,” he sputters, still recovering from his small conniption, “that’s a lotta-”

“I’m twenty-one now, Dad, I can handle my alcohol,” Sarah assures him with an annoyed roll of her eyes and a look at you that says can you believe this guy? And it’s true, Sarah is more than capable of handling her drinks if the videos she’s shown you of her time at college are any indication.

“I know, jus’... jus’ pace yourself, yeah?” She concedes with a small huff, and you wiggle your eyebrows at her tauntingly.

“Yeah, Sarah, make sure ya pace yourself. Got a while ‘fore ya can hang with us big dogs. Right, Joel?” You elbow him in the side, and he looks at you disdainfully.

“You’re a little shit, y’know that?” he murmurs under his breath. You shrug, snagging a piece of fresh, warm bread from the basket the waitress sat in the middle of the table and dipping it in the plate of olive oil and seasoning before stuffing it in your mouth.

“Learned it fwom the besht,” you say merrily, grinning at him through your mouth full of food, and he sneers at you in disgust before turning his attention to your father and Tommy, who are in a heated debate over the Dallas Cowboys chances of success in the upcoming season.

“I’m tellin’ ya, Tommy, this s’our year! We jus’ picked up that kid from- from… aw shit, where’s he from again?” Your dad rubs his temples, hoping to dislodge the information from some small, dusty compartment of his brain.

“Notre Dame,” Joel chimes in as he reaches for his own piece of bread, and your dad snaps his fingers as his face lights up in remembrance.

“Notre Dame!” he bellows, and you shoot him a look that he promptly returns with an apologetic wince. “Notre Dame, yeah, s’right,” he says, quieter this time with a little smile, and you leave him and Tommy to continue their chat as you tune in to the conversation at the other end of the table.

“Anyway, Dad, so Becca-”

“Which one s’that?” Sarah looks at Joel in disbelief.

“Becca. Rebecca Landry. My best friend in high school, goes t’LSU with me, we lived together ‘fore I moved in with Luke…” Joel just stares at his daughter with vacant eyes, and you snort. “Dude, come on, ya literally grilled for her graduation party.” Joel shakes his head, taking a swig of his beer. You watch how his throat bobs as he swallows and quickly avert your eyes, hoping no one caught you gawking.

“Sorry, hon, doesn’t ring a bell.” She huffs, and Joel smirks, clearly just giving her a hard time.

“Whatever. Anyway, her boyfriend proposed to ‘er last week, and it was jus’ the cutest thing. Real private ‘cause y’know how she is. She told me they don’t have a date set yet, but they’re thinkin’ ‘bout next Spring. Said t’ask if she should add ya to the guest list.” Joel hums non-committally, clearly lacking an opinion on the matter, and you pinch his elbow. He jerks out of your grip, looking at you with annoyance, and you cock your head in Sarah’s direction. When he turns to see her expectant glance, he huffs, head leaning back as he stares at the ceiling.

“Tell ‘er I’ll be there,” Joel capitulates, and Sarah beams in excitement before giving you a grateful grin.

“Awesome! She’ll be so excited, she loves ya.” Joel crosses his arms over his broad chest, shaking his head slightly as he leans back in his chair and spreads his thighs farther. You have to try desperately to keep your breath from hitching at the action.

“Speakin’ o’ weddings and proposals n’ all that,” your dad says, giving Luke a friendly clap on the back. “When’s it your turn, buckaroo? ‘s been, what, three years of datin’? Gotta be soon, hm?”

Luke looks like he wants nothing more than to melt into a puddle and sink into the floor at the line of questioning, something your dad remains completely oblivious to. Feeling bad, you throw the guy a lifeline.

“Leave ‘im alone, Dad. Jesus, you ain’t even that interested in my love life,” you huff, sipping your wine. Luke seems to remember how to breathe, a look of thanks on his face as your dad scrunches his nose up.

“‘s cause I’m not. Don’t wanna know about some boy who’s wastin’ your time ‘cause he ain’t good ‘nough for ya.”

“Your daddy’s right, hon, ya deserve more than what some boy can give ya ,” you hear from your right side, and then a thick arm drapes loosely over your shoulders. You turn to look at Tommy, who’s closer to you than the last time you paid him any attention.

“Knock it off, Tommy,” you hear Joel grumble, and you watch Tommy’s eyes dart over your shoulder and narrow minutely. An expression of innocence plasters over his face to quickly replace the mischievous smirk previously there.

“Knock what off, big brother?” Your gaze shifts to Joel, and you nearly wilt at the stormy look he’s shooting his brother. His eyes are simultaneously full of emotion and totally unreadable, jaw ticking in… wait, is he jealous?

“Quit.” You bristle at Joel’s harsh tone, not realizing until it’s too late that when you shrink back at his timbre, you lean further into Tommy. You can feel the egotism rolling off of the younger Miller brother, and the tension building in Joel’s figure seems to grow until he’s at serious risk of snapping. You’re sure that the only way this ends is with Tommy making another haughty comment that results in Joel leaping over your lap and strangling the man…

“Alright, who ordered the lasagna?” Your waitress’ voice dissipates the thunderous air instantaneously, and everyone’s attention snaps to her. The wide, practiced smile she’s wearing falters for just a second, and she shifts uncomfortably. “I’m sorry, ‘m I interrupting somethin’?” The tight pinch of Joel’s face evaporates before your eye, and you watch, stunned, as he turns toward your waitress.

“Nah, darlin’, you’re alright. Reckon that’ll be mine,” he says, cool as clam. By the time all the food is dished out and you’re digging into your respective dinners, the near fight is long forgotten. Unfortunately, you’re not able to shake the bitter feeling of envy that twisted in your stomach at hearing Joel call the waitress “darlin’”.

Before long, all six of your plates have been cleaned, and each of you sits back in your chairs, thoroughly stuffed full of rich Italian food. Your dad belches, drawing a laugh from the other men at the table while your and Sarah’s faces pinch in distaste, and the casual conversation continues as the street outside grows raucous with the Austin nightlife.

Your dad, ever the chatterbox, is going on about some upcoming project at his contracting firm when you feel it: the firm weight of an arm draped over the backrest of your seat. You pay it no mind at first, chalking it up to Tommy’s touchy but harmless hands.

That is until you feel soft, gentle shapes being drawn into the bare skin of your bicep on Tommy’s side. Your brain doesn’t comprehend the logistics of this immediately, and your head snaps in Tommy’s direction to find the younger man’s attention focused raptly on your father with his hands in his lap.

Your back straightens, and goosebumps prickle across your skin when it finally clicks whose hands are on you; you slowly, inconspicuously face your father again, pretending like you’re listening so as not to spark anyone at the table’s awareness, all while peeking at Joel out of the corner of your eye.

At first glance, it appears that he, like everyone else at the table, is completely engaged with the words tumbling from your dad’s mouth. But you know Joel too well. You pick up on the slight quirk of his lips, the way his thick thighs spread almost obnoxiously wide so his knee grazes yours, and how he’s drumming the thick fingers of his other hand rhythmically against the table. Joel felt how your body reacted to his touch.

And he liked it.

That piece of information is what has the low burn in your belly from earlier in your bedroom reigniting, blazing up your skin and making your neck and chest flush a deep red. Joel must be able to sense your blundering state because he removes his hand from you altogether, causing your heart to drop. Your whole body begins to slump in disappointment just as you feel Joel replace his touch on the bare skin of your thigh, exposed when you sat down and the already short dress you’d thrown on in a panic earlier rode higher up your legs.

He squeezes you there, thumb passing back and forth lightly, and your thighs spread of their own volition to allow him more room. You can see his eyebrows raise slightly in surprise, but he’s able to play it off easily as a reaction to your dad’s story. You do the same with the small smile that stretches your lips as his hand begins to creep higher up your leg.

And it’s risky, what you’re doing. Allowing your dad’s best friend, the father of the girl you’ve lived next to almost your entire life, your boss, to inch his big, calloused hand closer and closer to where you want him most right here at this very public dinner.

And yet, you simply do not care.

Well, you don’t care until you feel the pad of his thumb brush your sex over your panties, and you jerk at the sensation, thighs closing to stop the movement of his hands. The action draws your dad’s attention to you, and his brow furrows as he scans your face.

“You okay, hon? You’re not lookin’ too hot.” Your pulse thunders in your ears as you fumble for an excuse.

“No, yeah, ‘m fine. Jus’... yeah, not – uh, not feelin’ too hot.” Everyone at the table looks at you with concern. Even Joel, though his eyes possess an air of arrogance at your state. The bastard.

“Babe, you can go home ‘f ya need to,” Sarah says, and your eyes go wide as you shake your head.

“No! No, ’m fine, really. I wanna stay for you, ‘s your birthday ‘n all.”

She waves her hand as though she’s physically batting away your excuse. “Party’s basically over anyway. Luke and I were gonna meet some friends at a bar a few blocks over anyway, so y’all are good t’go whenever.”

“Well, I’m ready t'head home now,” your dad says, beginning to rise from his chair. “Rangers game ’s on at 9, and 'f we hurry, I won’t miss more than the first inning.” Joel, reading your dad’s eagerness to get home as his cue to be ready to leave as well, stands, and you catch the way he subtly adjusts himself on the way up. You resign yourself to the fact that the fleeting, secret moment between you is slipping through your fingers, and, albeit reluctantly, you follow his lead.

Tommy’s still seated, sipping casually from his beer, when he informs your dad, “Nah, man, it’s Friday night in downtown Austin. Reckon y’all won’t get home ‘til the third inning, at least.” Your father curses, running a hand over his semi-bald head in genuine worry, and you almost have to laugh at the concern twisting his features into a grimace. The urge to laugh quickly fades as you watch Tommy shrug his shoulders and carelessly say, “There’s a place 'bout five minutes away, lil’ sports bar my buddies and I go to t’watch the game sometimes. Can get kinda rowdy, but you’re welcome to tag along, ‘f ya want.”

Your jaw almost falls off at Tommy, who’s completely oblivious to the bone he’s just thrown you. When you turn just enough to allow you a view of Joel out of the corner of your eye, you immediately notice his almost imperceptibly stiffer posture. You watch your dad’s face light up with excitement, a hell yeah on the tip of his tongue.

And then, suddenly, his expression drops and he’s looking at you guiltily. “Aww shit, Tommy, that sounds great, but ‘f this one,” he says, jabbing a thumb in your direction, “ain’t feelin’ well, I oughta get ‘er home.” Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

You go to object, to insist, practically beg your dad to take Tommy up on his offer so that it’s just you and Joel on the ride home, but Joel beats you to it. “Don’t worry ‘bout it, man, I’ll take ‘er.” For the second time in mere minutes, you’re filled with the overwhelming urge to gawk at one of the Miller brothers.

“You sure, Joel? Don’t wanna inconvenience ya or nothin’.” You watch Joel shrug, and then he turns to you, pinning you with an unreadable stare.

“Y’alright with that, lady?” You stare at him, speechless. Are you alright with spending the entire ride home, perhaps even longer if your dad stays to watch the whole game and Sarah is bar-hopping, alone with Joel Miller right after his hand was brushing against your wet, wanting pussy?

Yeah, you were pretty fucking alright with that.

Your silence must draw on for an uncomfortably long time because Joel raises his eyebrows at you, prompting an answer. “Yes!” you say, just a touch too loud, and you take a deep breath before turning back to your dad. “Yeah, sounds good – cool, ‘s cool with me.”

Your dad gives you one more half-hearted once-over, verifying that you don’t need his escort home, but he’s in a losing battle with himself; the moment that Joel offered his services, your dad was sold. The coy little, “Well, ‘f you’re sure it’s not too much trouble,” he extends to Joel is like a tepid stamp of finality as his mind is already half-full with Rangers jargon.

Joel gives your dad a nod before jerking his head toward the door. “C’mon, darlin’, let’s get ya home.” And you try, you really do try not to walk with your chest puffed out the entire way to Joel’s truck. You try to keep up the facade of illness that was brought on by your lustful tizzy.

But Joel called you darlin’, and fuck if it didn’t sound better falling from his lips when it was directed at you and not some waitress.

***

Tommy, for perhaps the first time in his entire life, was right; traffic absolutely crawled in the downtown Austin area at this time on a Friday night. You’d peeled away from the restaurant almost thirty minutes ago, when the sun was beginning its descent.

Now, the analog numbers on Joel’s dash blink 8:57 p.m. , the summer sky having just shifted from muddy brown to steel grey and will soon start to give way to the dark of night and the whisperings of stars, and you’ve just managed to make it out of the city.

Thirty minutes, nearly two thousand seconds, and each one totally void of speech. Joel stared straight out the front windshield, hands carefully gripping the steering wheel as you leaned your cheek against the cool glass of the passenger window and watched the metro landscape give way to soil and farmland, groups of clubgoers replaced by black and brown spotted cows.

It’s not until the current CD in Joel’s radio reaches its end and the gears click, switching to the familiar crooning voice of Bob Dylan, that your soft singing breaks the silence.

“What was that?” Joel asks, and you turn your gaze to watch him, focus still intent on the road in front of him.

“Nothin’, just singin’.” He looks at you then, just a quick glance in your direction, but it makes your blood sing.

“Y’like Bob Dylan? “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door”, hm?” You shrug noncommittally, and his responding smirk makes you sit up in your seat.

“What’re ya laughin’ at?” Joel just shakes his head, and you lean over and swat his bicep playfully. “What?”

“Nothin’, baby.” The word sounds perfect in his low, gruff timbre, and you grin stupidly. When he sees your expression, he reaches over and wraps his big palm around your knee, giving it a shake. “Got good taste s’all. Didn’t expect it from ya.” You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest and trying to pretend like the large spread of his hand over your bare skin doesn’t make your core throb.

“Don’t act so surprised, Miller. You should know better than anyone how much I like old shit.” He clucks his tongue, sliding his hand farther up your leg and squeezing your thigh in warning.

“Careful,” he advises teasingly, but you’re not feeling particularly cautious tonight.

“Says you.”

“Says me?”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no heat behind the action as all the warmth in your body is currently shooting to a spot in your tummy. “Yeah, Joel, says you. I wasn’t the one with my hands between your legs in the middle of dinner tonight.” You watch Joel’s posture straighten and you try to hide your grin at his reaction.

Bingo.

You bite your lip and watch his eyes dart in your direction. Even in the ever-darkening dusk, you can see the hint of hunger in his pupils. “Didn’t see you complainin’.” You adjust in your seat, and Joel’s hand slips higher, his pinky just barely dipping beneath the hem of your dress.

“‘s ‘cause I liked it,” you say matter-of-factly, and you watch him exhale heavily. His head swings lazily to look at you, eyes dropping to where his palm rests on your slightly spread thighs before traveling up to meet your stare.

“Yeah? Liked me touchin’ your pussy with all those people ‘round? Any of ‘em coulda caught us, pretty girl. Coulda caught me feelin’ how fuckin’ wet you were, soakin’ through your panties.” And you’re almost sure Joel’s trying to make a point in there somewhere. That what you two did was risky in and of itself, not to mention the fact that he was touching you like that in public.

And yet all you can focus on is that name. Pretty girl. You think it’s your favorite thing he’s ever called you.

When you don’t answer right away, Joel looks back to the road. You watch him check the rearview mirror, and then he’s making a left down a long road and parking the car on a small dirt pull-off a few hundred feet in.

You look around, surveying your surroundings; tall prairie grass decorates your side of the road while a large cornfield stretches over the side closest to Joel, and the only thing lighting the earth for a few miles in any direction is the soft glow of the moon overhead. When you focus your attention on Joel again, half of his face is shadowed while the gleam of lunar opalescence illuminates the other half.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight, and you can’t help but stare. You reach toward Joel, cautiously at first, but emboldened when he squeezes your leg. You cup his jaw and rub your thumb over his stubbled jaw; his eyes flutter closed at the sensation, and you shuffle closer, Joel’s hand falling away from you as you sit up on your knees and reach across the center console to cup the dark side of his face with your other hand.

His palm finds a new position on your hip, and when his eyes open again, revealing his dark, chocolatey irises to you, your body leans closer toward his of its own volition. As if something inside of him, perhaps the very marrow of his bones, is magnetized to yours.

“Joel,” you say, soft voice cutting through the silence in the cab of the truck.

“Hmm?”

“Is this… is this bad? What we’re doing?’ His eyes dart around your face, taking in your heated gaze with a warmth of his own. He sighs as his other hand traces up the side of your body before slipping around your shoulders and resting on the nape of your neck.

“I wouldn’t say it’s good.” You nod, scratching your nails lightly through the salt-and-pepper beard he’s let grow.

“Should we stop?” It comes out as a whisper, laced with apprehension, tediousness, and want. So, so much want.

“Probably.” And he’s right. Whatever this thing between you and Joel is, it’s not feasible. Sure, it would be great. Amazing, even… until it’s not. Until the appetite for each other dies out and what’s left is a hollow skeleton of awkward encounters and forced conversation to keep up appearances.

Either that or the hunger becomes all-consuming, to the point where you can’t eat, can’t breathe, can’t sleep without thoughts of Joel dominating your mind.

And maybe that’s worse, you think. Finding out what Joel tastes like, what it feels like when he sinks into your wet heat, just for it to one day be stolen from you.

Because there isn’t an angle to approach this from that doesn’t end in the same unfortunate reality; Joel can’t be yours. He will never be yours.

And, so, yeah. You probably should stop. But as you go to pull away, to take your hands off of Joel and sit back in your seat while Joel returns the truck to the main road before depositing you safely at home like the good friend he is, Joel’s grip on the nape of your neck tightens. And then he’s tugging your mouth to meet his and your hands, still cupping his cheek, are pulling his face in to meet you halfway.

When Joel’s lips slot against yours, you’re surprised by how soft he is. Joel Miller, perpetually gruff and probably born with callouses etched into his hands, is so inconceivably gentle at the first contact of his mouth against yours. You sigh, breathing him in as he threads his fingers into your hair, and a moment of tranquility washes over you. This truck is the only place that has ever or will ever exist, and you and Joel are the only two people in the world.

You slide one of your hands from his jaw to his neck, stroking the solid strength of his throat, and a rough noise vibrates from him. You repeat the motion experimentally, and he groans into you, tongue darting out to politely ask for entrance into your mouth.

You accept with an enthusiastic moan, and that’s when the seemingly endless reservoir of Joel’s reserve drains dry. He licks into you, tongue caressing yours when you part your lips for him, and the hand in your hair tightens, keeping you held steadily against him. He feasts on you, stealing the air you breathe as he kisses you ferociously.

Joel sucks on your tongue when you go to mewl, and the sound is replaced by a wanton whine. You roll your hips over nothing, and Joel clocks the movement immediately. You feel his reluctance as he drags his mouth from yours, and you sit and wait, carefully assessing every minute change in his expression as you try to regain your composure.

You’re sure you’re supposed to be embarrassed right now, ashamed that you couldn’t keep your neediness in check. However, you can only think about two things: how fucking horny you are at the moment, and how that was probably the only time you’ll ever kiss Joel because this entire thing is about to come crashing down in short-lived, fiery oblivion.

But Joel does something. Something that really shocks you, leaves you vulnerable to attack and exposed right down to the root of you. He looks you up and down, from the slightly frumpled state of your green dress to the no-doubt wild gleam in your eyes, and smirks before saying, “You need t’be filled up, don’t ya, baby?”

You smile and nod, licking your lips as you appraise the man sitting in front of you. He’s so intoxicatingly broad, the sleeves of his shirt stretching tightly over his biceps while the legs of his jeans pull taut along his thighs. You shift in your seat again, causing Joel to pull you closer, and though you’re uncomfortably sprawled across the center console, you’ve never felt more right than you do right now.

Your lips are brushing Joel’s, so close you can feel the warm puffs of breath leaving his nostrils, and any slight surge forward by either of you would connect your mouths again. Instead, you stay like that, so close but still too far for your liking.

“Tell me what it is you want, sweetheart.” You angle your head, pressing a soft kiss to the side of his mouth before drifting your lips back to hover over his.

“Want your cock, Joel.” Your bluntness must take him by surprise because his head falls back against his seat and he groans. You take the opportunity to drop your lips to his neck, kissing it lightly before licking up the column of his throat and biting delicately at the junction where his neck meets his jaw.

“Yeah?” He takes one of your hands and drags it down his front, letting you feel the muted strength of his abdomen tailored from years of manual labor and the soft swell of his belly before landing on the thick bulge in his pants. You pull away from where you were beginning to leave a small bruise on his neck to look at where your hand cups his clothed erection, and you practically drool at the sight. “You want this, hmm?”

“Yes,” you confirm airily before your eyes snap up to meet his, heavy-lidded and clouded with lust. “Please, Joel, I- I need it.” He nods, the hand that guided yours leaving you to your own devices and drifting back up to rub his thumb over your lips. You take the opportunity to massage him through his pants, and he sighs, smirking at you.

“Tell me where ya need it, honey,” he lilts, and you grip his bicep as you squeeze his cock lightly. “Need it here?” He nudges his thumb gently between your parted lips, and even as you shake your head, your mouth opens to him, allowing him to push his finger inside. You swirl your tongue over the salty pad of his thumb, switching to mellow kitten licks before taking it deeper.

“No?” he asks, quirking a brow at you. He presses his thumb down against your tongue, and you open your mouth wide so he can see down your throat. “Gotta tell me where then, baby.” You close your mouth again, sucking on his thumb briefly before pulling off of him with a lewd pop.

Your eyes never leave his, and you watch them turn impossibly darker when you tell him earnestly, “My pussy. Want you to stretch my cunt with your fat cock.” He huffs lightly at the vulgarity of your words, and you squeeze him through his pants again.

“You’re a dirty fuckin’ girl, y’know that?” He looks almost in awe, and you smirk at him, beginning to crawl across the center console to straddle him. When he stops you with a hand to your sternum, you look at him in confusion. “We can’t tonight, darlin’. Wanna take my time with you when I fuck ya, gotta make sure I get ya ready.”

You’re so utterly disappointed you ache with it, pouting at him as you draw in close. “But I’m ready now, Joel. So fuckin’ wet for you, have been since the restaurant.”

He gives you a chaste kiss before pulling back and jerking his head toward your seat. “Show me.” You smirk as you slink back into your seat. You rest with your back against the car door, your right leg dangling off the seat while you tuck your left leg up and spread your knees farther apart, causing the hem of your dress to ride up your thighs until it’s brushing your tummy. You can tell by the wrecked look in Joel’s eyes that from this angle, he has a perfect view of the damp spot decorating the slip of pink lace that is your underwear.

“Fuck, baby, ya weren’t lyin’,” he mutters, fingers smoothing his mustache. “Pretty lil’ panties are soaked. That all for me?” You bite your lip and nod, pupils blown wide and eyelids heavy as you ghost your fingertips over the soft skin of your thighs. He makes a noise of appreciation as he watches your movements hungrily, fist clenching as your digits move closer to your aching core.

“Mhm, f’course it is,” you assure, letting out a breathless, needy gasp when your fingers brush your clit over your underwear. You’re sure you must look fucked out, and you’d be embarrassed by that fact if it weren’t for the heady look Joel’s pinning you with right now. You whine as Joel brings his hand down to palm the thick, rigid outline of his cock bulging against his jeans, and your mouth goes dry at the sight. You roll your hips and whine at the stimulation, doing it again without breaking eye contact with Joel.

He squeezes himself and groans as you rut slowly against yourself, dipping a finger down to tease at your soaking entrance over your damp panties, and he smirks. “You gonna show me how ya fuck yourself, baby? Show me how ya like it, hm?”

And you would. You really, really would. Except Joel Miller is sitting in front of you with nothing but a few measly scraps of fabric preventing you from his hard length, and you think that it would be such a waste to not take advantage of that fact.

Besides, you’ve already made yourself come more times than you can count with Joel Miller’s name on your tongue.

“No, baby,” you shake your head, and his brows pinch in confusion. You lick your lips, hand halting its ministrations as you sit up on your haunches and stare at Joel. “Want ya to fill me up.”

He huffs exasperatedly at that, and his tone is laced with annoyance when he says, “Jus’ told ya, ‘m not fuckin’ ya t’night-”

“Joel.” Your interruption shuts him up and he watches you lean in. You brush your lips over his, along his jaw and up his cheek before halting by his ear. “I want you,” you say, dragging a hand down his chest to rest over his in his lap, “to put your cock in my mouth and fill me up.”

You apply pressure down over his hand, making him squeeze himself and the sound he makes is something close to a growl. He angles his head so that your lips meet for a heated kiss and he licks into your mouth immediately, tongue dancing with yours.

“Yeah?” Joel breathes into your mouth, and the hand not palming his dick threads into the hair at the nape of your neck. He tugs, pulling your head back so that you look down your nose at him with wide eyes and heavy lids. “Ya wanna suck me off?” You smile almost shyly and nod, and he tuts at you, bending to kiss the hollow of your throat before licking a stripe up your neck.

“Don’t go quiet on me now, darlin’. You had so much t’say earlier, know this pretty mouth s’good for more than just takin’ my dick.” You whine, pressing your thighs together as best you can and rubbing, trying to give yourself some, any friction.

“Wanna taste you, Joel,” you murmur, already delirious and you haven’t even gotten your mouth on him. “Want it so bad, please.”

He rakes his eyes over you, takes in the needy glide of your thighs against each other and the ragged pants making your chest heave. He must take pity on your haggard form because he grins affectionately and releases his hand from your hair.

“Since ya asked so nicely,” he says, palm gliding around to sit on your shoulder. He strokes the column of your throat a few times, watching you with a hooded gaze before nodding toward his crotch. “Go on, baby. Show me how much ya want it.”

You don’t need to be told any more than that before you’re hastily undoing his belt, ripping it from his pants and tossing it into the backseat while simultaneously popping the button on his jeans. Where your movements are hurried and ravenous, Joel’s are soft and sweet; he strokes your back lightly, broad, calloused palm feeling heavenly as it tracks over your bare skin.

You lower the zipper on his jeans and he lifts his hips, allowing you to drag the coarse fabric down his thighs. It takes you a second after you’ve maneuvered his pants out of your way to realize you’re face to face with the stiff outline of Joel’s cock, straining against the black fabric of his boxers. Your mouth goes chalky when you see the small dot of moisture near his fat tip, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning over and pressing a kiss to the spot.

Your groan is in unison with his, and Joel must be growing impatient because his hand snakes up to gently cradle your neck. “Don’t be a tease, pretty girl,” he scolds tenderly, and the endearment causes you to look up at him through your lashes. What you find in his eyes is something lusty, full of desire and want and… pure, unadulterated awe. It makes your pussy flutter around nothing.

“Wasn’t bein’ a tease,” you say, bending back down to mouth at his cock over his boxers, and he moans when you lave at his swollen tip through his underwear.

“Nah, jus’ so needy ya can’t even wait ‘til I get my cock out t’put your mouth on it, hm?” You lick up his dick and feel it twitch, his thigh tensing underneath the hand you have braced there. You smirk, looking up at him as you dip your pointer fingers under the band of his underwear, hooking your digits and arching your eyebrow.

He acquiesces with a lazy smile, lifting his hips, and you slowly drag the tight fabric of his boxers down to where his pants pool around his knees. However, you don’t immediately look at Joel’s length after fully freeing it from the confines of his clothes. You’re not sure why a cool feeling of nervous anticipation washes over you, but you find yourself stalling, rubbing your thumb over the inside of his knee and kissing his thigh gently.

Joel, the attentive man he is, picks up on your nerves immediately. He massages the area where your spine meets your skull, and you practically melt at the feeling. “Y’okay?” he says softly, and you nod, turning your head to rest on his thigh. Your eyes avoid his dick, jumping up to land on his face. His expression is so kind, so compassionate and observant, that it makes you ache.

“‘m fine. More than fine, ‘m good. Great.” He nods, stroking your cheek before he frowns.

“Y’know, ‘f ya aren’t feelin’ it anymore, we can stop. We don’t have’ta-”

“S’not that,” you mutter, and he stops talking, waiting for you to go on. You inhale deeply, looking for the courage to speak your thoughts into the charged atmosphere of the truck. “I jus’... don’t want ya to regret this.” He flashes you a perplexed look before tipping his head back and laughing. Your cheeks blaze with heat, embarrassment creeping in to tamper the fire of want, and you bury your face into Joel’s thigh to hide.

“Baby,” he says, and when you don’t respond, he grabs your jaw and makes you turn to him. “Baby. Look at me.” You stare, lip twisted in your teeth, and you can’t help but feel small under the weight of his gaze. He angles your chin down then, and you finally let your eyes fall, taking in the cock you’ve tried to conjure in your imagination while your fingers were stuffed in your pussy more times than you can count.

In a word, Joel Miller’s dick is pretty. Thick and long and tan. Veiny and girthy, easily the biggest you’ve ever seen. His tip, which is a few shades darker than every other part of his length, is an angry red, weeping precome from the little slit at the top. The thick weight of him bobs up and sits at attention against his belly, resting against him obediently. Your mouth pools with saliva at the sight of it.

Through the cotton in your ears, you can just barely make out when Joel says, “You tell me, honey. ‘s that look like regret t’you?” You swallow thickly and shake your head.

“N-no,” you stutter, sitting up slightly. You admire the way pearly beads of precome trail down his length and subconsciously lick your lips.

“No.” You can feel his stare on the side of your face, but you can’t focus on anything except the cock in front of you that has you drooling while your cunt begs to be filled. “Want this, sweet girl, jus’ as bad as you, and that ain’t gonna change tomorrow or the day after or next week. I want this,” he says, and he says it with such confidence and surety that you have no choice but to believe him. You nod, almost in a trance, before bending over and pressing a chaste kiss to his fat head.

He must not have been expecting that response from you because at the contact of your lips against his hard member, his head falls back against the seat and he groans, the sound drawing out when you start to press soft kitten licks to his slit.

“That’s it, honey – fuck, feels good.” You preen under his praise, smirking as you spread your lips to wrap around his tip. He hisses through his teeth, and the noise is all you need to start slowly working him down your throat. He’s so big, and even just the head of his cock has your jaw straining slightly.

You know that there’s no way you’ll be able to take him fully in your mouth, that you’ll have to use one, if not both hands to stroke the rest of his long, thick dick as you focus your attention on the head. But that doesn’t stop you from trying.

You pull off of him quickly, and he responds with a disappointed little grunt, mouth turned down in a depressing little frown. That is, until he watches you spit into your hand and place your palm around his base, stroking him slowly. A lopsided smile replaces his previous expression and when you twist your fist at the same time your mouth latches back onto his cock, he can’t help but jerk his hips. Joel’s thrust makes his tip kiss the back of your throat and it takes you by surprise, making you gag.

You watch his eyes go wide in worry as he immediately murmurs, “‘m sorry, baby,” his voice utterly wrecked. You lick from the space your fist occupies and swirl your tongue over him a few times, looking into his eyes as you catch your breath.

“S’okay, Joel,” you purr, lips against him as his cock twitches at the low cadence of your voice. “I can handle it, I won’t break.” And then you’re right back to easing him down your throat. Drool dribbles from your mouth as you work him in your fist, stroking and twisting and pulling while your tongue focuses on the sensitive area you’ve discovered just under his head.

The cab of the truck fills with the melody of your slick mouth sucking Joel off, punctuated by the sweet sounds falling from his lips. Joel isn’t a particularly talkative person, but you’re incredibly happy to find that all that changed when your head was bobbing up and down his length.

“Good girl, perfect fuckin’ girl,” he grits out, tightening his hand into a fist and slamming it against his window a few times as he struggles to keep his hips stationary. You hum around him, taking his hand in yours and guiding it to thread into your hair to encourage him to move. A throaty groan rips through him as he realizes what you’re asking, and he thrusts lightly into your mouth.

You relax your throat, allowing him to push deeper than he had been just a minute ago, and the feeling of being so utterly full of him makes you whine, shuffling slightly to relieve the pressure building at the apex of your thighs.

“Y’like that, sweetheart? Like when I fuck your pretty face?” The utter filth he’s spewing at you makes you gasp and whimper, and he laughs almost smugly at your reaction to his words. “Yeahhh, you like that. Go on, baby, touch yourself while you suck my cock.” You don’t have to be told twice, snaking your hand down to rub frantically at your aching clit while he slowly, gently jerks his hips into the tight, warm, wet vice of your mouth.

You feel yourself teetering on the edge of orgasm in no time, seeing as how you were already thoroughly worked up from your little display at the restaurant and everything that’s transpired in Joel’s truck since. Actually, if you’re being honest, you’ve been soaking into your panties since that stunt you pulled in your room before you even made it to dinner.

You feel stuffed to the brim, Joel’s cock hitting a spot in your throat over and over that has tears of pleasure dripping down your cheeks to combine with your spit lathering his cock. He brushes his big thumb over the path a tear careens down, brushing away the wetness as he drags his hand down to cradle your throat.

“Doin’ real good for me, doin’ perfect.” He squeezes lightly around your neck and curses. “Shit, darlin’, I can feel my cock right here.” He taps your throat and you whine, eyes rolling back as you rut desperately against your fingers. You’re so, so close, and you can tell that Joel is too by the way his tempered pace is growing more erratic, his shallow thrusts less controlled. The noises dripping from his lips to meet your ears are gruffer now too, words he’s failing to string into sentences as they're cut off by expletives and needy moans.

Joel looses a low, gravelly groan that signals he’s mere moments from reaching his peak, and you hear him choke out, “Where do ya want it, baby?’ just as the pull of pleasure burning in your tummy goes taut. You don’t answer, opting instead to simply pull off of him and seat your open mouth at the head of his cock, sticking your tongue out and looking up into his face. Joel smirks as you continue jerking him off with the hand not paying attention to your clit, but his smile falls into a slack-jawed look of lust as his balls pull tight and he comes.

The thick ropes of warm cum spurting over your tongue and decorating the inside of your mouth are just what you need to push you into your own climax; your legs shake and you let a high-pitched sound ring through the truck cab as your cunt clenches hard around nothing, wetness seeping from your underwear and coating the insides of your thighs.

Despite your own orgasm, you make sure to catch every last drop of Joel’s spend, holding it on your tongue for him to see. The space goes silent for a few seconds, both of you basking in your respective post-coital bliss as your eyes scan over each other. Your gaze hangs heavy as he takes in your sweaty, disheveled form languidly before landing back on your face. Joel shoots you an endearing, sweet look, before brushing the hair plastered to your sweaty forehead away from your face.

“Go on, honey. Swallow it f’me.” You do as Joel says, swallowing the sticky fluid he’s shot down your throat, and you find the salty, tangy taste surprisingly pleasant. You clean the corners of your mouth where some of his seed landed with your thumb and, with his eyes on you, push the digit into your mouth, sucking it dry. The dirty act makes Joel shake his head and chuckle, and once you’ve finished, you open your mouth and tip your head back to show him that you’ve taken care of his mess.

You both sit there for a while, just staring at each other with your head resting on his thigh as he strokes your cheek. You’d almost call the gesture loving, but you don’t want to be presumptuous. After a decent amount of time has passed and the stars have come to bear witness to your dirty deed, you turn your head and catch the pad of Joel’s thumb in a soft kiss.

“Oughta get back,” you say, reluctantly breaking the silence. He nods, and you stay like that for a second longer before sitting back in your seat. Joel starts the truck and traverses down the lonely path toward the main road. As he pulls back out onto the black asphalt, likely still warm from the summer sun that’s long disappeared, you can’t help but wonder if this moment will forever belong to the space between that long stretch of prairie grass and corn stalks.

You can’t help but hope that it won’t.

***

As Joel nears your development, you pull down the sun visor on your side and flip open the mirror. Your mouth falls open and a little gasp slips at the sight that meets your eyes. Joel must hear it because his gaze flickers in your direction.

“Somethin’ the matter?” he asks, worry lacing your tone, and you almost giggle at his concern.

“I’m a fuckin’ mess,” you groan, raking your fingers through the hair that Joel’s fingers knotted. Your lips are swollen and chapped, your eyelids heavy with the look of lust, and there’s a track of mascara streaking down your cheek from your tears. To put it bluntly, you look like you’ve been freshly fucked.

Joel looks at you again and barks out a laugh as he turns down your street; he pulls into your driveway and puts the car in park so that he can turn to you more fully. You’re frantically trying to will the bright blush on your cheeks indicative of sex from your cheeks as you wipe furiously at the now-dried trail of black mascara.

“Waterproof” my ass.

Your head snaps in Joel’s direction when you hear him chuckle again, your eyes wide with a plea for help. He shrugs, smirking slightly. “Better get inside ‘fore someone sees ya, or else they’ll know what we’ve been up to.”

You know he’s teasing, but his words make you deflate slightly nonetheless as they feel a little bit like he’s kicking you out; however, you steel yourself quickly. There was nothing for him to kick you out of, and it was silly of you to think otherwise. Sure, you’d just sucked his dick and made him come down your throat. And, yeah, maybe he’d almost gotten caught with his hand between your legs at dinner. But that didn’t mean anything.

Just two adults engaging in a casual hookup. That’s all.

Even as you try and convince yourself of this, your reasoning, and consequently your attitude, falls flat. You grunt with thinly veiled annoyance as you grab the door handle and make to leave. “Could’ve jus’ parked at your house, I woulda walked,” you mutter, irritation simmering in your gut as you go to open the door, but then a strong hand reaches across your lap to wrap around your hand on the handle and pull it back shut.

When you try again and are met with the same result, you huff and turn, coming face to face with Joel. His brows are furrowed and the corner of his plush lips are turned down. You hate yourself for wanting to kiss him right now, even though he’s actively telling you to go while not allowing you to do so.

“What?” you bite out, and it comes out harsher than you mean it to. He squeezes your hand, and you feel tension you didn’t realize was making your body go rigid ease.

“What’s a’matter, baby?” The pet name makes you blush, and now you feel even more stupid.

“Nothin’,” you lie. Rather convincingly too, you think proudly, until Joel cocks an eyebrow and informs you just how shoddy your facade is.

“Know ya too well t’believe that bullshit. Tell me what’s wrong.” You huff, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. You drop your hands into your lap, eyes falling to watch your thumbs twiddle. You don’t think you can look into those all-consuming brown eyes right now.

“Jus’... I dunno, bein’ dumb. Thought you were kickin’ me out or somethin’.” You shrug indifferently, and he sits there for a second, watching you fidget nervously. You see him scan your surroundings out of the corner of your eye, making sure no prying eyes are around, and before you can even react, Joel’s gripping the back of your neck and turning your head to meet his lips in a bruising kiss. You melt into him, sighing in relief at the feeling of his tongue licking the seam of your mouth.

You stay like that, greedily tasting each other. Or, in Joel’s case, greedily tasting the lingering flavor of himself in your mouth. He pulls back suddenly, chest heaving and eyes dark, and you lick your lips and grin at him.

“I’ll see ya soon, baby,” he says with conviction, and you nod slowly. But apparently your response isn’t convincing enough for him, because he pulls you in closer and says against your lips slowly, “I will see you soon.”

“Okay,” you breathe into his mouth, and he kisses you chastely once, twice before opening your door and tapping your thigh.

“Now get.” You smile, hopping out of his car, and you can feel his eyes on you the entire way to your front door. Even when you’ve disappeared into your house, you can feel the brand of his gaze on your flesh.

You watch through the window as he sits in his truck for another minute, and then he reverses down your driveway and pulls into the one next door, hopping out of his truck and leisurely heading up to his front door. You watch him walk into his house, and only then do you stop watching.

You’re not entirely sure how you get up to your bedroom, but you’re almost able to believe that you floated there like an apparition, head airy and thoughts bordering on dream-like. When you collapse on your bed, your mind is on the feel of Joel’s tongue in your mouth, of his cock thrusting into your throat, of what that same tongue and those same thrusts might feel like in your pussy.

What you’re not thinking about is how utterly fucked you are. You’d told yourself once that you wouldn’t be able to do a thing like this with Joel because you’d never have your fill, always wanting more after that first initial taste of him. But you’d gone against your better judgment tonight, and now that little crack of yearning had split into a yawning chasm of want; greedy and unsatiated and hungry.

Hungry for one thing, one person, one man: Joel Miller.

Yeah, you were fucked

___________________________________________________________

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #dad!joel miller #dbf!joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #dbf!joel #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagine #joel fic #joel the last of us

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toorurs · 28 days

Text

to love is to learn

synopsis: aventurine is still unexposed to the many concepts of this world. but that doesn't mean he won't try to get to know them if it's for you.

pairing: aventurine x reader | wordcount: 1.0k | content & warnings: hurt/comfort, insecure aventurine, established relationship, my ass wrote this in an hour and its super late rn i just wanna upload this and my lazy ass did NOT proofread this + im on mobile so hell, kinda HELLA rushed ; ficlet

a/n: just the other day me and azul were talking about what body parts of aven would be sensitive and we got to his collarbone and azul said that he thinks that it'd be super evident so i pointed out that it might be cause he was used to starvation and barely ate even when he got to the ipc/had the chance to do so. SO I JUST HAD TO WRITE SMTH.

tags: @azullumi

aventurine shudders under your touch. your nimble fingers trace across his collarbone, featherlight movements, touch so delicate, it makes him tremble.

the pads of your digits lightly dance across his clavicle, one finger turns into two. your index swiftly slides over the pale skin that separates the bone that lies underneath. while your thumb starts inching closer the neckline of his satin pajama, diving beneath. at that he can't help but flinch.

“oh god.” he laughs out. “someone's being touchy today.” his voice is filled with joy. hearing, seeing, knowing that aventurine has fun around you, makes you crave for more. his laugh is an intoxicating drug. something that you'll always long for, absorbing it until every part of your body is stained with the tantalising essence and puts you to your demise.

you don't stop your actions, instead continuing to glide your fingers along his delicate body. “sorry, for i couldn't help it!” a giggle escapes your mouth.

“i just thought about how pretty it is.” you let out a small hum.

“my collarbone? pretty, how come?” he's confused, what is the beauty you see within his body?

his body is fragile. it's a hollow shell he carries around. ugly and not worthy of your attention even less your admiration, abused and marked in burns. when the digits that he carries around like a sacred body part of his, roughly engraved on his neck, come in contact with any kind of substance, liquid or his own fingers. he's reminded of the mishap his body was or rather is in. how it was abused and dragged through the mud.

putting his calloused fingers around the tattoo, stings. the touch lingers like a nostalgic scent which still remains on an old piece of clothing, one that has never been washed so the smell never fades away. it burns up at the slightest touch. hurting just as much as when it was freshly inflicted onto his young body.

kakavasha doesn't even know what he looks like. the only person he sees in the mirror is aventurine. sure he walked past puddles of dirty rain back in his childhood, reflecting his younger self, but the images are vague and blurry. he doesn't know what kakavasha looks like and he probably never will.

and neither do you. the only thing you have in front of you right now is aventurine. a shattered soul that doesn't know where it belongs. his being consists of a thousand fragments, they're scattered thoughts that are similar to broken mirror shards.

they reflect the tales of his heart and reveal its greatest desire. mirroring those untold stories like the surface of the water. thoughts and wishes that are full of pureness, almost childlike.

the broken pieces that make up the man who's named aventurine long for a haven which he can call a safe space - a home. but on the other hand he thinks that he's not permitted to find such a place, that he's not allowed to stay, undeserving of it.

“no particular reason. i just like the way it stands out, it's easy to find and trace.” the words that roll off your tongue sting. they probably hurt as much as a paper cut you've received as a little kid, but it's not like kakavasha knows or is able to relate - he didn't get to grow up like the other children. but he can't blame you, you're oblivious to his past.

his body has gone through physical and emotional abuse. beat ups, labor or starvation. the reason why his collarbone is so evident, the face you adore is so slim, and his rips slightly poke through his body, is all because kakavashas hunger has never been satisfied and the dryness in his throat has never been quenched.

even after he put on the mask of the man who calls himself aventurine - a wealthy man, who’s a member of the ten stone hearts that makes more money than he spends, he's still reluctant when it comes to eating. of course he could buy all the delicacies that kakavasha never got to try - never even knew, but he hesitates.

the concept of chewing and swallowing the bits is still something aventurine can't befriend himself with. it's unfamiliar - he's not used to it, the feeling of a full stomach, what it's like to be satisfied after a meal. it's something foreign to him, a feeling he's not sure he'll ever get accustomed to.

he doesn't think he deserves to eat. to know what it feels like to be full, the rumbling that comes from his stomach is the one he grew up with is what brought him here. he fears that if he gets too comfortable with something or someone he'll forget who he is.

a lost soul that mourns after the past, but saved itself from the dark abyss, freeing itself. not allowing himself to get too close, always keeping everyone that comes near him at an arm's length. worrying he might grow too attached.

so why is he still here? here with you, chattering happily and conversing freely, he doesn't deserve it - he doesn't deserve you.

but is it wrong to be selfish for once? he knows the answer already: it is. but he can't help it, not when you coax him into this position, one which he can't leave, no matter how hard he tries.

“i love you.” you trace the letters along his neck, over the tattoo that is engraved on his skin.

you don't need a verbal answer to know that he feels the same way. perhaps, he himself hasn't realized it yet but he's conveyed his love for you many times already. just like now as he continues to lie in bed with you.

the both of you are oblivious, but that doesn't mean that either of you will stop in your tracks, turn back and leave. (even though he sometimes wishes to do so)

both satisfaction and love are two unfamiliar concepts for aventurine. but he'll try to get to know them. for the sake of you.

#toorurs #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine x reader #aventurine hsr #hsr aventurine #aventurine imagines #kakavasha x reader #aventurine fluff #kakavasha fluff #aventurine

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pjsfvs · 3 months

Text

Angry sex with Tyun

paring : dom!taehyun x afab!reader

warnings/tags : angry sex, window/wall sex, im to lazy to do the rest.

summary : You and taehyun get into a heated argument, which leads to some good angry sex.

a/n : don't leave hate comments for me to see. if you don't like it just block me and leave.

“Taehyun, I told you, I’m done talking about this. I said I was sorry.”

“You were being irrational, Y/N?! Seriously?! You can’t just go charging into my rehearsal like that begging me to come along with you, for fucking boba! What if the members got distracted. Hm? They could have been hurt or worse!”

“I get that you were worried about them, and I know I was wrong for doing that, but you're the one who told me you were on break. It is not my fault. You can't put the whole blame on me.”

“Your so fucking annoying sometimes.”

“God, can you shut up and listen to me!? I don't know why I have to re-explain this to you again.” Taehyun stare at you incredulously, ready to interrupt but you continue on, “You told me that you missed me, and I wanted to see you, so I came when you texted me you were on break.”

“How long do you think our breaks are huh? Knowing we're about to have a comeback. Just how fucking long do you think these breaks last!?”

The argument is never-ending. Sweaty and red-faced, Taehyun is so close. So close that you can still smell the scent of spear mint on his breath from the gum he's been chewing. So close that you can see the dark circles under his eyes from the sleepless night and the height of his body, creating a shadow over your body. Your chests touch, both heaving from yelling back and forth. Staring him in the eyes, you have nothing else to say; left to communicate all your frustration through a silent glare. Neither one of you wants to be the first to break.

“Taehyun, I’m done doing this whenever you and the guy have a comeback. You can’t keep telling me to come see you while on break, just to get pissed at me afterwards. I’m done with that. I’m fucking done.” You keep repeating that last line to yourself more so than to him. A realization coming over you that you might not just be done arguing with Taehyun over this particular topic. You might also be finished with your relationship. If he wouldn’t make time, to see you, what's the point. Just one fucking glance, that's all you could ask for. If this is what you had to go through each time, you weren’t sure you could handle it.

Through his anger, Taehyun gives you a look of desperation, hoping that you both could come to some agreement. Shaking your head, you turn and walk away. You have nothing left to give.

“No. You don’t get to walk away like you always do. Not this time!” He yells, grabbing you by the shoulders and pressing you against the very door you were prepared to leave though. Pushing him away does nothing. He just comes back, forcing your back against the door again with a resounding thud. You want to deny it but the roughness of how he handles you causes a spark within you. You’re certain it’s affecting Taehyun too from the way his half-hard member brushes against you.

“Tyun…” You’re cut off by a passionate kiss. Your body denies your rational mind by returning the kiss. It’s nothing like your normal exchange. It’s heated, teeth clanging against each other, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth and fighting for complete dominance.

Clothes are torn from each of your bodies, no care given to the sounds of ripping fabric and buttons hitting the floor. Your sole focus is on each other.

“Up” he commands, grabbing at your hips. Taking his cue, you jump up, wrapping your legs around his waist. Nipping along your jaw, he leaves a stinging trail of red marks on your skin. You hiss when bites down harshly at the juncture of your shoulder. Continuing on his intended path, Taehyun attaches his mouth to one of your perky nipples, swirling his tongue around it before sucking.

The heels of your feet pressed into his lower back, bringing him closer to your core. His throbbing member slips through your folds, pressing against your clit. Focused on your own pleasure now, you repeat the action, grinding yourself against his cock.

“Stop it.” He growls out in response to your tempting actions. The head of his member prods against your sensitive bud as Taehyun ruts his hips unexpectedly. You yelp in surprise but don’t stop.

“You need to fucking listen. You never listen.”

“Fuck you.” You retort, smirking at him in defiance.

“That’s what I plan on doing to do you, sweetheart.”

Not waiting for your reply, Taehyun enters your wet core without warning causing you to throw your head back. Any advantage you thought you had is now gone as you succumb to the pleasure. As you sink on to his thick cock, Taehyun groans lowly, enjoying the feeling of your warm pussy that is so inviting to slip into.

“Gonna fuck you so good.”

You chuckle at his comment, knowing it will provoke him. And that’s just what it does. Without pulling out of you, Taehyun unwinds your legs from his waist and pushes them towards your chest by the knees. The new position gives him a new angle to hit and he begins to thrust into you without control. His pace is frenzied and brutal as he abuses your pussy.

Clawing at his shoulders, your first orgasm washes over you but he gives you no time to bask in it. Even as your core clenches around his member, he continues to fuck you senseless, pushing you through your first orgasm and works you close to a second.

Taehyun watches, fully mesmerized, as his member pumps in and out of you. His cock is slick with your wetness making it easier for him to push back in and keep his rhythm.

“So close. Don’t fucking stop,” You announce your impending orgasm to him, not that he needed you to tell him. He knows from the way your core pulses that you’re almost there. So is he; ready to spill his load into you. Pumping into you deeper, Taehyun’s cock hits the perfect spot, causing jolts of electricity to course throughout your lower half.

Your second orgasm rocks you so hard and you go limp in his arms. A few more thrusts and he followed right behind you. His cock throbs inside you as his cum coats your walls. Dropping his head to your shoulder, Tae’s heavy breaths fan over your heated skin, sending a chill through you.

After helping you to wrap your legs back around him, he carries you to your shared bed; laying you down gently. Climbing in next to you, he tugs you to his chest making sure you are tucked comfortably against him.

“I’m sorry, ya know. You’re a damn good girlfriend, Y/N. I know that. I just don’t want anyone to get distracted and end up hurt because of you. If that happens, they might not let you visit the building anymore and I don't want that to happen.”

With much of your frustration gone, you realize you may have been too hard on Taehyun. He cares about you and doesn't want anyone on his team to get hurt.

“I know. I just want you to make some time for me. Even if its one minute of your time. I miss you."

"I know baby, I know. I'll try and make at least 10 minutes for you on busy days, on free days we can go on the cute dates you told me about doing. I promise."

#txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt taehyun #taehyun smut #taehyun x reader #kang taehyun #tomorrow x together #huening kai smut #yeonjun smut #beomgyu smut #soobin smut #idol x reader #౨ৎㅤ violet writes #౨ৎㅤ taehyun

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loveinhawkins · 1 year

Text

Steve doesn’t notice the answering machine for several weeks.

His time is split between the hospital and donating food and clothes; and when he’s not doing that, he’s helping put up missing posters for people’s loved ones.

It’s only when both Max and Eddie are discharged that he has a moment to even catch his breath—when, half-dozing on his feet, waiting for a microwave ready meal to heat up, he notices the blinking red light in the hallway.

He feels like he’s still in a dream when he presses ‘play’, hears his mother’s voice. There’s people talking in the background, the echoing, constant chatter of a hotel lobby. She’s laughing at something someone must have said before the answering machine kicked in.

She sounds… happy.

“Steve? Steve?” The rustle of the receiver getting briefly pressed to her blouse, a muffled, “Just a minute, hon, he might still pick up.” Then, clearer: “No, you must be out. All right, Steve, it was just to let you know that we’ll be home a little sooner than we—yes, I’m telling him, what do you think I’m doing?”

Steve’s thoroughly grateful that he’s listening to a message, and no response is required—can only stand there, jaw slack, at just how light his mother’s voice is.

“A couple of work things fell through,” she continues with a breeziness that probably means several major ‘things’ went disastrously wrong, work related or otherwise. But it doesn’t sound like she cares all that much; if anything, she sounds excited.

“So I thought we could—well, I don’t know how late we’ll be, but if you’re not too hungry, we could just order some pizza, lazy dinner? Plain cheese for you, right?” The distant ring of a bell on a counter. “Steve, darling, I know we haven’t been—” She cuts herself off with a sigh that’s gone too quickly for Steve to parse.

He hasn’t ordered a plain cheese pizza since he was 12 years old. But she’s trying, he thinks. She’s trying.

“Oh, we’re just checking out. What? No, I thought you had that bag. Oh, well, just—sorry, Steve, see you tonight. Love y—”

The message ends.

In a daze, Steve replays it once, twice—it’s on the third re-listen that he hears the mechanical voice intone what date the message was left.

See you tonight.

He inhales sharply just as the microwave beeps, and then he’s out the door, leaving the food to congeal.

He knows the route they would have taken. Plays it backwards in his head as he drives. Can see them in his mind’s eye taking the exit that leads into Hawkins—his mom berating his dad for not using his turn signal.

He finds the road. Stops. Gets out and presses his hand to the tarmac. He can feel it under his palm, like a scar.

The gates spread, at the end.

There’s no proof, nothing he can point to and say there, that’s what happened to them. Not a trace.

But he knows.

He knows.

“Okay, what’s up?” Eddie asks him three days later.

It’s almost funny, how little things have changed. Steve keeps waiting for a knock at the door, a just kidding! There’s no harried phone calls from their work, so they must have taken extended leave or—he doesn’t know.

He’s never going to know.

“Nothing,” Steve shrugs. “Just thinking if the kids want popcorn now or later.”

Eddie’s suspicion melts away with a snort; it’s too easy. “Stupid question—the answer is always now.”

“Yeah, yeah. Second cupboard on your left, Munson, knock yourself out.”

“What am I, the maid?” But Eddie’s already reaching for the popcorn, opening the microwave door with a clunk, and then there’s an abrupt silence.

Steve realises why a second too late. “Shit, I—sorry, lemme just—”

He picks up the plastic tray full of mouldy pasta and throws it in the trash—feels a prickle of shame as he does so.

It’s stupid that this is the thing that makes his breathing catch. So fucking—senseless.

“Steve,” Eddie says haltingly, like he somehow knows this isn’t just about being absent-minded.

“Don’t,” Steve says.

He knows that’s practically a signed confession already. But Eddie nods and even cleans the damn microwave without a word of complaint. Because the popcorn still needs to be done, and the kids are waiting, and they’re pretending, Steve thinks.

They’re all just pretending.

He loses himself in washing up, makes the water run hot and doesn’t wear gloves, lets his skin scald. They’d all ordered pizza, and Steve had hidden every slice he’d taken, torn them all up and stuffed them into a napkin.

He stops when he comes to a large plate with a floral trim.

Would she have picked this one? he wonders. The pizza would’ve looked pretty, served up on that.

And then, as quickly as that thought came, another takes its place. How dare she? How dare she think that a fucking lazy dinner would fix everything? Did she think he’d just forgive her, forgive them both, just like that?

But she never got the chance. He’ll never get the chance to—

A sharp, stabbing pain. Steve turns off the faucet automatically, sees that the plate has smashed in the sink. A shard of china in his palm.

Eddie’s voice echoes in the hallway. “Um, I called Wheeler? Uh, Nancy. She—she took them all home.”

“Cool,” Steve says, voice tight.

He knows that Eddie has entered the kitchen when he hears a shocked hiss. “Dude, what the fuck? You’re bleeding, wait there, just—”

It’s not a deep cut, Steve thinks numbly. He doesn’t know why Eddie is worried. But he lets him fuss, lets him gently pry the remnants of the plate away, lets him wrap a bandage tightly.

“Hey,” Eddie says. His voice is soft. “Whatever it is, we’ll fix it, ‘kay?”

Steve can’t look at him. Clenches his jaw.

“We will, you hear me, Harrington? I promise.”

Steve shakes his head. “Can’t fix—” he gets out before his throat closes up, and when he glances back, Eddie’s eyes are wide and fearful.

“What?” he says sharply, and he looks almost nauseous, like he suspects he’s about to be told that the monsters are back, that they have never even left. “What the fuck do you mean? You’ve got to tell me, man, just—”

Steve makes an anguished noise that feels like it comes from somewhere in his chest, and Eddie freezes. He considers Steve for a long moment.

“Okay,” he says, a wary placation. “Can you… um. Can you show me instead?”

Steve blinks. He flexes his hand, uncaring of the cut, and jerks his head to the hallway.

Eddie stares. Frowns. Then leaves.

He figures it out, of course he does. Steve just stands there, hears the click of the answering machine. He closes his eyes.

This is all that’s left; these are his scraps. A sigh he’ll never understand. An aborted, “I love you.” It had never come easily to her, but it had left her freely then.

Why?

A hand on his shoulder. Steve opens his eyes.

Eddie looks stricken. “Steve,” he whispers, then stops like he doesn’t have the words.

Steve can’t blame him. Neither does he.

“I didn’t—I didn’t know,” Eddie says. “Steve, I didn’t—”

“They were coming home,” Steve says stupidly, feels a bit like he’s twelve years old. “They were—Eddie. They were gonna come home.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, and it leaves him all in one breath. “Oh, Steve. C’mere.”

Steve falls against him, muffles something that’s half a cry, half a scream against his shoulder—and mourns the loss of a conversation he will never have.

#steve and his parents #steve harrington fic #steve harrington #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve x eddie #steve harrington’s parents #steve and his mom #steve harrington’s mom #steddie

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fiapartridge · 1 month

Note

2/2. May I please request something with Jack? His girlfriend being nervous/insecure because not only does she not know his family/team mates/friends etc but she has no prior knowledge/experience with hockey (any sports/sport activities really) and boating etc. Just feeling out of place in a world where her boyfriend and his family are some of the best/most famous. Obviously take this in whatever direction you wish or ignore it. (I come from a family of artistic city people and my only extracurriculars were volunteering at libraries and museums, I am as boring as they come lol)

obsessed | jack hughes

"i'm so obsessed with your ex..."

jack hughes x reader

summary: realizing that you have nothing in common with jack, you start to wonder why he even likes you in the first place.

warning(s): angst with a happy ending, cursing, luke and quinn being dicks sorry lol

fia's note 💌: VERYYY loose interpretation of this request LOL SORRY IF THIS IS ASS okayyy enjoy!

not proofread (i got lazy sorry lol)

You should’ve known what you were getting into once you got into your relationship with Jack. You should’ve known that it would be hard; that dating a hockey player—a famous hockey player—would be hard, but you, for some reason, didn’t let that stop you. During times like these, you wish it did.

“So, Y/N, how’d you get into hockey?” Ellen asked from across the dinner table. You were too busy stuffing your plate to hear, and once the table fell silent, you knew she had asked you something.

Embarrassed, you set your plate down, taking Jack’s hand instead. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

She laughed, and then the whole table laughed, and you felt your cheeks grow warmer and your body more tense. Was it that bad? “I asked how you got into hockey, honey.”

“Oh,” you smiled, turning to her. “I didn’t really get into hockey until I met Jack,” you said, leaning closer to him as he smiled softly in return. To be honest, you were glad that you hadn’t been into hockey, or any sports in general, prior to meeting Jack. He taught you how to score a goal, how to celly, and even how to take a hit on the ice. (Jack said he was hitting you just how he would any guy, but you knew he didn’t even put a 1/10th of his weight onto you. Then, he called you Hulk for not even realizing how hard it was. You thought he was bluffing; you still do.)

“You don’t play, or skate, or anything?” Jim asked, cutting into his steak and stuffing the small slice into his mouth.

You shook your head. “No, I, um, my family wasn’t really big on any of that.”

Poking his head up, Luke smiled towards Jack as he pointed his fork at the older boy. “Katy knew all about hockey.”

Katy? You tilted your head to Jack, silently asking who Katy was. It was like he was trying to not make eye contact with you, like he was embarrassed. For who? For you? For him? Slipping your hand out from his, you placed both of yours under your thighs, trying to still yourself from shaking. You shook when you were nervous. Jack knew and he was scared—scared that his family was gonna go ahead and ruin it all.

Sensing your confusion, Luke nodded at you. “Katy was Jack’s girlfriend in high school. Lead scorer in her team’s league. She was legendary. Whatever happened to her, Jack?”

You felt your chest clench, and your hands underneath your thighs weren’t helping anything, and you couldn’t stop bouncing your knee, and Ellen was staring at you again. You just wished they would stop staring at you, like they were waiting for a reaction from you.

“Luke, shut up,” Jack scolded, trying to grab your hand from under your thigh as you shook your head. You just wanted this to be over. You shouldn’t have agreed to meet his family. You shouldn’t have agreed to be with him. You were never going to be enough; not when there’s Katy; not when he had the most perfect girl for him, and he still chose to break up with her. When was he going to break up with you? Probably after this dinner. Probably after his family tells him that you’re not the one; that you’re not like Katy at all.

“I’m sorry,” you interrupted as Luke was just about to spew his rebuttal. You stood from your chair, laying your cloth napkin on the table as Jack looked up at you with concern. “Um, can I go to the bathroom?”

Quinn laughed. He laughed. He fucking laughed at you.

“Sure, honey,” Ellen smiled, silently scolding Quinn. “It’s in the hallway by the kitchen, third door on the right.”

“Thank you,” you said, not even looking up at anyone before quickly racing to the bathroom.

Locking the door, you sat on the toilet cover, pulling out your phone, and immediately going to Instagram. He has to be following her. Someone has to be following her. And right when you searched up “Katy” on Luke’s Instagram following, there she was, in all of her hockey glory. The perfect girl.

She had sandy blonde hair, ocean blue eyes, and she looked at least 5’8, maybe even taller. She wore designer brands that your bank account wouldn’t even allow you to look at, and God, she looked amazing in that dress. But somehow, in some possible way, she looked even better in her hockey gear. She still had posts with Jack in her tags. She’s sitting on his lap at a party, red Solo cups in hand as he stares at her with a look he had never given you. You can see the way she’s loved by everyone around her; the way Ellen holds her like a daughter; how Luke plays games with her like a sister; how Trevor carries her over his shoulder like they’re best friends. You’ve never felt that way with anyone close to Jack.

Even back in New Jersey, every time you went out with the team, you felt like you were just there. Like you were just wasted space. Sometimes you wondered if they even knew your name. You told them plenty of times, but Dawson still asks every time you see him, and Nico still gives you those sad pity smiles, like it’s another reminder that you don’t fit in with Jack and his friends.

Sometimes you even question it. Why are you with Jack? You’re total opposites. He loves hockey, you know nothing about the sport. You think staying in and knitting is fun when his ideal nights are going to parties and getting drunk off his ass. You guys don’t even look good together. You know who he looks good with? Katy.

Katy. Katy. Katy.

You’ll never be Katy.

“Y/N?” A knock at the door took you out of your spiral as you stared at the wooden slab, too scared to open it and be met with his entire family laughing at you from the hallway. “Baby, it’s Jack. I,” he stammered. “I’m so sorry,” he apologized, his forehead resting on the door in front of him. I lost her, he thought. There’s no coming back from this. She hates me and my family, and I blew it. “I screamed at Luke; he had no right to talk to you like that. And Quinn’s getting yelled at by my mom as we speak. Please just—please let me in.”

Slowly, hesitantly, you opened the door, being met with a distressed Jack whose eyes were red and whose lips were swollen with the amount of chewing he was doing to them. It broke your heart to see him that way, but his family was right. Katy was perfect, and you’re nothing like her.

“Baby,” Jack stepped closer as you took a step back, ripping his heart into pieces. “Y/N.”

“Your family’s right, Jack.” “No, they’re not,” he argued.

You nodded, frowning, and holding back a sob because it felt over. It felt so over. “They are. They are because what do we have in common, Jack? Nothing! We have nothing in common, and everybody sees it! Jack, I—”

“Don’t,” he shook his head. “Don’t say it. Don’t break up with me.”

“Jack—”

“Who the fuck cares?” he exclaimed. “Who cares if we have nothing in common? I like you, I want to be with you, you’re my person! I don’t see that with anyone else.”

Rolling your hand down your face, you let out a tired sigh. “You’re gonna see it, Jack. You’re gonna realize that I’m not your person; that I’m not the one you want; that I’m awkward and boring and don’t get along with anyone you care about, and you’re gonna break my heart. And that’s just how it is.”

“Are you listening to yourself right now? You think I could ever get tired of you? I like you because you’re nothing like my friends, or my family, or anyone I’ve ever dated. I broke up with Katy because her life was just hockey, and my life was just hockey, and everything was just hockey.” Stepping closer, he held your hips as your back hit the sink behind you. “I don’t want my life to be hockey. You’re the part of my life that I need. If I didn’t have you in my life, I think I’d go crazy,” he laughed as you rubbed your sleeve against your wet nose.

“Your friends don’t like me.”

“Fuck them,” he grinned, running his thumbs up and down your waist. “Plus, you haven’t met Coley yet. Think he’d like you more than he likes me.”

“What’s he like?”

“Taylor Swift karaoke—”

“Sold,” you chuckled as he shook his head, smiling at you like you were the only girl in the world, because to him, you were. “So this Katy girl,” you said, raising your eyebrow slyly.

“Is irrelevant,” he answered. “I only have eyes for you, pretty girl.”

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagines #jack hughes imagine #new jersey devils #nj devils #njd #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #jack hughes angst #jack hughes fluff

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thewintersoldatt · 2 months

Text

SORRY, NOT SORRY -RAFE CAMERON

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x fem!listener

Summary: Rafe can be a “good” boyfriend when he wants to be… with a sprinkle of manipulation of course.

Warnings: Naughty language, Fluff low-key from our toxic daddy, ft. JJ being a chaotic mess.

notes: This audio is set during 1x05. Instead of it being midsummer's, it's the listeners birthday! I've been working on this all week and I'm tired of listening to it on repeat, so if something doesn't add up, it's because I got lazy. And I wish Rafe told me he loved me. 😭

word count: Its audio, my panties are wet and so are yours.

Scene one

JJ: Ah, would you look at this! It's our birthday girl!

You: What are you doing here?

Our cutie patootie rambles on then walks off with the security guard.

During this pause count to about 6 or 7.

You: What the hell did you guys do to his face?

Rafe: We didn't do anything… his face was like that when he…showed up.

You: Well, why did you guys corner him in here?

Rafe: We were just making sure... he knew his place. And that he's not allowed here. If anything, we were doing you and your parents a favor, I mean, god knows what he already took.

You: You promised me you wouldn’t start anything tonight, Rafe.

Rafe: Can you give us a minute? I'd like to talk to my girlfriend... alone, so get out. Alright, um, can I speak first since you wanna do this right now?

You: Go ahead.

Rafe: How long have you lived here?

You: I was born here.

Rafe: Yes you were born here, but where - where did you grow up?

You: Figure 8.

Rafe: Yes, you grew up on Figure 8. And where did... our pal JJ grow up?

You: The cut.

Rafe: The Cut. and that's exactly my point, baby. We're kooks. And... what is JJ again?

You: Jesus, Rafe don't start-

Rafe: Come on, you wanna talk, let’s talk. What about communication? Isn’t that what we're supposed to be working on?

Count to 3 during this pause.

You: He’s a pouge.

Rafe: See that wasn't so hard, now was it? Now, let me make something clear, and stop me if you get a little confused - you and me. We’re practically royalty on this island. We’re together for a reason. And before you saying, yes I do love you. I always have and I always will. You’re mine. You’re it for me, sweetheart. And… you’re a kook. So, start acting like one before I do something about it, mkay?

You: God, you’re a dick you know that? How about you leave too.

Rafe: Ugh, look I’m sorry, alright? It’s just… it’s just when I saw him on the patio talking to Sarah I lost it. This is supposed to be your day and I didn’t want him ruining it. Kind of like when… uh… we switched out the coke with flour and gave it to Top because he ate your cupcakes.

You: And how is that relevant to this?

Rafe: It’s sorta the same thing. You - you worked hard on those. Uh, he ate them. I was pissed because they were for me. And you were upset because I wanted to punch him in the throat. Tomato, tomahto. Blah, blah, blah. See you’re smiling, I love it when you smile.

You: You’re such a sap.

Rafe: I love you.

You: I love you too.

Rafe: And again, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cause a scene, I just didn’t know how else to get him to leave. You know how JJ and his friends are. All of them are drawn to us like a moth to a flame. Now, uh, can we put this behind us and get back to the party?

You: Thats the smartest thing that’s come out of your fat mouth all night, baby.

Rafe: By the way, I really do think he took something from your bedroom.

You: What?

Rafe: I saw him come down from the hallway, unless he took something from your dad’s office?

You: You’re serious?

Rafe: As a heart attack.

You: But… I’ve never done anything to him.

Rafe: That’s what they do though. You should know this by now. They butter you up, just to take whatever they can right from under our noses. It’s sick, if I’m being honest.

You: So much for trying to be civil.

Rafe: I know, yeah, I’ll talk to your dad, and um, see what we can do. But for now, let’s go celebrate. It’s not everyday someone turns 17.

@rafesapologist @rvfecamerons @sadfury @rafesthroatbaby @rafesaddiction @hockeybabe87 @rafeinterlude @starkeyisthelastname @secretly-tumb1r @kingkylie444 @stayonmars @maybankswhore @barbiiecams @princessmisery666 @ilovebarrykeoghan

If you would like to be tagged, I gotchu sis.

#drew starkey #ai generated #rafe x you #rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #i’m in love #my original post #my original writing #enjoy the audio

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rkvriki · 1 year

Text

not a couple but not just friends with enhypen ! - hyung line

hiiiii!! i haven't posted in sooooo long im sososo sorry!! something different might be on the way!!

make sure to leave feedback. my requests are open and so is my talk box so let's talk!

WARNINGS ! making out, it's not really suggestive but ya kno; might contain grammar errors!

word count: 1.1k

LEE HEESEUNG !

— kissing and other types of pda

heeseung and you were alone in the dorms, all the guys were out doing their own things and you both took that as an opportunity to spend time together.

the two of you were in the kitchen getting snacks and drinks for the movie marathon you were gonna have.

“hee, can you help me? i can't reach those chips.”

“sure thing, princess.” your stomach fluttered with butterflies as he came behind you putting his hand on your waist while the other one reached for the chips, making you let out a quiet gasp, which didn’t go unnoticed by him. heeseung grabbed the chips and put them down on the counter, while his hand joined the other on your waist as he turned you around to face him. you smiled at him used to this type of behavior coming from him. you put your hands around his neck as his face comes closer to yours to connect your lips. you both shared a passionate kiss, moving your head to the side to kiss him deeper. you both missed to hear the sound of the front door opening and only realized someone was in the house when you heard the voices of jake and jay coming closer to the kitchen, making you pull out slowly from the kiss, unashamed by the fact they probably saw you guys kissing. you both looked at them who were frozen looking at you guys with a confused expression.

“but weren’t you “just friends”?” jake asked, making quotation marks in the air.

“we are friends.” you said shrugging.

rest under the cut !

PARK JONGSEONG !

— going out on romantic dates

today you woke up with a text from jay telling you that he was going to pick you up by 7:30 and that you should dress fancy. everyone was confused with whatever you and jay had going on. honestly to both of you it was very simple, you were both too lazy to put a label on it. it was obvious you two were way more than just friends. you started getting ready by doing your makeup since you were still indecisive with your dress. you went for your roommate to ask her for help-

“i can’t choose which one to use today, jay didn’t give me details about where we’re going so i don’t know which one is more appropriate”

yunjin looked at the dresses then at you. “the black is not too much and not too little, so take that one. also when will you let me know what you two have going on or?” she said, waving her hand at you. you sighed at her tired of hearing her asking the same thing every time you went out with him. “i’m not going over this again yunjin.” you said making your way out of her room.

you finished getting ready and decided to snap a picture for jay. you sent it to him and he replied almost immediately.

jay: baby… you look so gorgeous fuck

jay: i’m almost there

you smiled at his text happy that you didn’t need to have a label with him for you to know he was yours.

SIM JAEYUN !

— going on weekend getaways

jake loved taking you out to visit somewhere when he had his weekends off from work. it was hard for you both to go out for a few days since he had a busy schedule but you both still managed to spend time together.

you two were now in one of busan’s beaches watching the sunset, sitting in a blanket in the middle of the sand. the beach was secluded since it wasn’t that hot yet. your head laid in jake’s shoulder as he held your hands in his to warm them up.

“how did we end up like this?” jake asks “why so suddenly?” you ask him, chuckling. “i don’t know, just wondering how the hell i ended up taking my best friend on weekend getaways that aren’t really friendly.” you took your head from his shoulder looking at his face, silently admiring his side profile. you smiled at him and said “life makes us do the craziest thing i guess.” jake looked at you, making eye contact. his eyes scanned your face and he started leaning closer, making you do the same. your lips fell into his like a puzzle piece falling perfectly into its place. the fresh breeze from the beach blew into both of your hairs. jake’s hand came up to your face, cupping your cheek and deepening the kiss. you felt his tongue swiping your lower lip, making you open your mouth and letting him explore your mouth. you both pulled out looking at each other, giving one last peck and going back to watch the sunset.

PARK SUNGHOON !

— giving each other gifts

sunghoon loves spoiling you and it makes you feel bad because you don’t buy him half of the things he buys you. he keeps reminding you that it really doesn’t matter if you give him things or not because you alone are already enough to him. whenever he's traveling with the members in work or just a tripe he will be always saying “oh, y/n would love this.” and then proceeds to it for you. he doesn’t even check the price and the others keep saying something like “i don’t know why you spend so much money if you aren’t dating.” he just smiles at them not knowing how to explain it to them. he comes back home to you with so many bags and a cheeky smile. you stare at him dumbfounded and he just sits besides you telling you to open them.

“sunghoon how much did you spend here?!”

“it was just a little, don't worry about it.”

you do the same thing as him, or almost. when you are out by yourself, just shopping for yourself or with friends, you see a clothing item that you are so sure he would love it so you go and check the price, almost crying when you look at it. either way, you take a deep breath and grab his size and take it to the cashier. when you give them your card you always fear it will decline, knowing you won’t shop anything else for the day. when you give him his present he smiles like a kid on a christmas morning. he barely looks at it before he’s pulling you into a hug and thanking you.

“baby this looks so expensive, you didn’t need to.”

“don’t worry hoon, it wasn’t.” a big lie. it was and your wallet was crying, but for him you didn’t mind it one bit.

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cherry-leclerc · 2 months

Text

method acting ☆ cl16

genre: series - humor, strangers to friends/roommates, fluff, smut, denial of feelings

word count: 4.6k

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...f!receiving, fingering, dry humping

cherry here!... seeing as we're basically at the end, i will go ahead and say that this series has been based off of Roman Holiday! c'mon now guyssss - enjoy the spiciness ;)

ch. one ch. two ch. three ch. four ch. five ch. six

Chapter 4

Life, as you fear, is falling apart as you're confronted with a serious case of writer's block that puts your career on the line. As a solution, you're roommate helps you plan a solo trip to the Amalfi Coast for a much needed break but it doesn't take long for you to meet a certain Monegasque who lays passed out on the beach.

If there was a reasonable explanation of a frog finding a home deep inside your throat, then you would somehow understand because at this moment, it sure felt like it. Charles doesn’t do much apart from blinking at an extremely slow pace. You knew that day that you should have turned the other way, but like always, your curious mannerism won. Here were the consequences and now you had to deal with them. Your lips part, ready to aim meaningless excuses but instead release a shaky breath, finding it hard to make eye contact with his soft orbs.

“How did you find out?”

A stupid question, you knew that, but there wasn’t much to say. It was motifying enough now that you knew, he knew. “You remember how I always beg you to wash your hand every time you finish eating those little chocolates you like?” His lips curl. “You must have forgotten to do so the night before.”

Heat rushes all throughout your body as you come to a halt. His accent emerges with no trace of anger, but rather embarrassment of his own. Shame. Noticing you’ve stopped, he turns back to face you, only a few steps marking a distance between you two. “I don’t know what else to say other than sorry.” A sudden urgency zaps through your veins as you walk closer to him, broken cobblestones rubbing against your shoes. “That was something private and I crossed the line, Charles. Y-you don’t understand how sorry I am.”

A lazy shrug is all you receive from him as he sheepishly smiles though there’s a downcast to the act. “You don’t need to apologize. I should.” His words make you blink with confusion. No you don’t. Green eyes flicker onto the pavement before connecting back to your dreadful ones. “No, I do. I haven’t been honest.”

He visibly gulps, strong Adam’s Apple dancing its way up and down. “I’m sure you know by now. Considering you read it.” Sharp nose twitches, fingers drumming against his thigh. “But I want to hear it from you.”

Further heat rises as you furrow your brows. “What do you want me to say?”

“The truth. From what you read in between those pages, who am I to you?”

Flashes of his messy handwriting scribble its way into your fuzzy brain. Entries where he would talk about the hydraulics, whatever that meant, to depressive episodes he tries perfecting to keep out of sight. It’s sweet, raw, funny, and you ruined it for him.

“You’re just Charles. A man who enjoys spending his time playing piano, even if he can’t curve his fingers in time to hit the right notes. The one who proceeds to chuck an apple at…” You nibble on your lips, mind digging into the deepest delves as you try to remember. “Joris’ head?”

Pink blush feathers onto his cheeks as he bites his tongue. “You read that?”

A soft giggle erupts. “It was pretty entertaining.” He chuckles, but there is evidence that he was pleased by your answer. You find yourself wanting to continue. “A brunette who likes to tease a city girl when it comes to the amount of sweets she eats.” A lot, he snickers as you bite the air. “Someone who cares enough to take me on walks when I need it to calm down. Even if I don’t know it myself.” A pause. “You’re not some snotty F1 driver who brags out to the rest of the world how rich and famous he is. You’re clumsy, hilarious at an unhealthy amount that makes me think I can form a six pack without ever stepping foot in the gym, and you’re the kindest man I’ve ever met.”

Charles’ heart does an unfamiliar dip as he takes in your breathless state, as if someone’s just saved you from drowning. His feelings lunge towards you as he feels your genuine honestly. You weren’t just telling him what you thought he needed to hear, no, you were spilling it all out as if it were the easiest thing you’ve done in your entire life.

He feels stupid for keeping this from you, thinking you would betray him in some sick and twisted way. That you would think differently - treat him differently - if you knew how many zero’s took place in his net worth. How could he have ever doubted you?

Suddenly your eyes shine a little brighter, as if that were possible. Your lips blossomed into the prettiest shade of pink as you sheepishly smiled back at him. Your aroma quickly becomes his favorite scent in the world and he wishes for nothing more than for you to look at him the exact same way he looked at you.

“I’m really glad we met.”

Your smile widens. “Lo stesso qui.”

The opportunity had presented itself, landed right in the palm of your hand. The universe gave you a chance…and you blew it. Your initial thought was that you, too, would come clean, but as soon as he started moving his lips and opening up to a level you never imagined you would ever reach, you pushed it further into the back of your mind. And now days have passed and it was just weird and awful that you never mentioned it in the first place.

Times like these, you wish you had your cheerful friend to tell you what to do. Dialing her number, you patiently wait for her to pick up. Hello? The taste of home makes your heart warm as you beam. “Amelia, it's me.” A loud pitched scream flies into your ear as you pull your phone away. “I’m aware I’m missable, but there’s not need for you to-”

“I’m engaged!”

Your jaw drops, clumsy fingers navigating to press on FaceTime. The blond answers straight away, stunning diamond already being shown off as you gasp. “You’re fucking shitting me? Amelia Thompson! You’re about to be locked down for life.”

Your friend happily shrugs before hopping up and down. “This is cra- insane. This is insane. Isn’t it insane?” It’s actually very sane if you ask me. You two are meant for one another. Two peas in a pod. Her smile widens as she scrunches her nose in a playful manner. “I mean I just thought this wouldn’t happen for another year or so, but then he took me to that little park we love to go on Sunday’s and then a bird attacked him and th-”

“Back up, a bird attacked Roman?”

“Oh yeah,” she firmly states, red lips pursed as if to refrain from releasing a loud laugh. “It was a whole thing…”

Sitting there and listening to Amelia rant all the while Roman smiles as if he’s never seen a better encounter in his entire life, it suddenly hits you. Pangs your heavy chest. You were happy for the couple, over the moon, but you couldn’t help but mourn the end of an era. It only seems as if a few years ago you two were tugging heavy suitcases into your empty apartment. It would only be so long before she eventually moves out, leaving you alone. And it's not just that, but now you realize how lonely you’ve been these past few years since all you’ve ever done is dedicate your heart and soul into proving to be something you desperately wanted to be.

“Helloooo?”

Snapping out of your self pity, you blink rapidly. “Sorry.” You release a content sigh, swooning as you nuzzle your head into the crook of your elbow as you press your face against the fancy marble. “I’m so happy for you both, really.” But? “But I’m jealous Roman gets to keep my roommate. I was here first.”

Amelia giggles. “You’ll forever be my favorite roomie. Plus, Roman kicks in his sleep so it's only a matter of time before I hit him with the divorce.”

It’s only after you two hang up that you realize you still hold everything inside your chest. Sighing, you make your way out to the terrace, hoping to find some peace and tranquility. Instead you find the Monegasque blaring rock music as he does yoga. 25/50 of what you were looking for.

“Does this actually help you relax?”

Like a cat jumping out of its skin, Charles yelps as he hears your voice. He clutches his chest. “Does that answer your question?” The corners of your lips turn upward. He squinted at you, head pointing towards the house. “Good news?”

“Very. Amelia and Roman are getting married.”

His lips stretch into a sincere smile as he stands up straight. “That’s great.” Nodding, you tug your own mat as you begin to stretch. His stomach flips at the simple act.

“She deserves it. They both do.”

Even as the music blares at an alarming rate that should have you worried for your hearing, you don’t move an inch and neither does he. With slight hesitance, the brunette licks his lips. “And how are you feeling?” You blink, suddenly losing balance as you plant your bare feet. Me? He nods. “You have feelings too, right?”

“I mean, do I really have the right to say anything else other than I’m glad my friends are finally tying the knot?” Floppy curls fling forward as he pretends to nudge your shoulder with it. You bite back a grin before you twirl into a soft frown. “I’m a bit sad.” A small click coming from him is enough for you to continue. “I guess I’m just not used to being alone. Amelia has been with me for as long as I can remember.”

“And she’ll always be there, you know? Only now, she’ll have a different last name and shiny ring.”

You roll your eyes. “What I mean is that it's starting to hit me. How far I’ve fallen behind in the dating category. All those times I’ve been asked out, I pushed them all away because I either had too much work or wanted to spend time with my friends. Now they’re getting married and I’m just kind of…here. I wish I knew what I was turning down.”

The Monegasque lets out a light whistle, fingers snapping as he stares off into the distance. “I would like to pretend that I don’t know what you mean, but I do. Racing is everything to me - it’s what makes me happy - but that won’t always be there. It's a scary thought to have, I know, but that's the way the world works. We need to grow up even after we’ve grown up. It’s a thing that continues for a lifetime and ends with death.”

Your eyes widen with alarm as you gasp at his gloomy perspective. What if you were still wasting time? For sure you still were, but what were you doing with your life? You’re just a broke girl who forms relationships with people you love to spend time with only to use their words for your benefit. A dark chuckle roars from your roommate as he quirks his head. Don’t get too freaked out. “Don’t scare me then.”

Charles shrugs nonchalantly. “You’ll meet someone soon. Someone who will love you as much as you love your piles of junk food.” You aim a sour scowl. He snickers, but continues. “And you’ll realize that all the worrying was for nothing.” The soft sound of waves crashing fills the silence. “But please invite me to the wedding.”

There’s a soft glow to you when you let out a bittersweet smile. “You promise you would go?”

“I thought I made that clear when I said I would go wherever you are.”

Your breath hitches, a gust of wind nearly knocking you down just as efficiently to his meaningful words. Forcing yourself to look away, you press your lips into a fine line, head bobbing in understandment. He shifts. “Teach me a few poses?” you ask, signaling to the mat.

Let me taste your silhouette. You can talk between my legs.

“Oh um,” he stutters, red painting his entire face, briskly reaching to turn the music down. You suppress a giggle as you stare back blankly, lips occasionally wobbling, threatening to let out a teasing smile. “I-I-I don’t usually hear music like this. I m-mean - I do - but…it helps me relax.”

Giving up, your lips stretch, eyes crinkling with amusement. “You get more interesting day by day, Charles Leclerc.”

It’s now Monday and you still haven’t met your word count. It should be easy, you have lots of useful information, but every single time your fingers glaze over the mocking letters, you only think about how terrible of a friend this all makes you. And it’s as if Eleanor knows your lack of work, lengthy emails entering your inbox with daily reminders about your due date. It doesn’t help either that the green eyed boy keeps reminding you about the last two weeks you two have together.

“I’ve just gotten so used to you,” he pronounces as he cuts up fresh peaches. “It’s going to feel wrong not seeing you often.”

Your fingers come to a halt. “Let’s just not think about it. How about a round of Truth or Dare?” You wiggle your brows. “Game?”

“Game.”

“Truth or Dare?” Dare, he eagerly spits out, anticipation evident. “Okay. What does the golden pin actually stand for?”

He scrunches a teasing brow. “You really thought this one through - used your brain. I’m impressed.” You hiss, pen barely missing his head. He cackles nonetheless at your childish behavior. “It’s sort of the same thing as I told you that day. He did say to go retrieve it when I got a Ferrari.”

Now it’s your turn to bunch your neat brows. “But you already own a Ferrari.” A slow smirk paints your lips. “Oh! You want to brag!”

“No,” he scolds. “Would you let me finish?” Relaxing against the pillows, you nod. “When I got a Ferrari championship. Only then could go get this mysterious horse. I think he thought I could do it.”

Your heart twists as you note his wretched smile. “Do you think you can?”

He sighs. “I’m actually not sure. Y’know when I first joined the team, I really thought I could. I mean, everyone around me was telling me how great I was, how my long contract must have meant I was extremely worthy. Now all I get are pity stares. High expectations that have me second guessing everything.” He turns to you. “But then the church was about to be demolished, so I had to go get it regardless.”

Licking your dry lips, you nibble before releasing. “I know you can do it. He might not be here to let you know anymore, but I am. And I know you can.” A beat. “Is that why you gave it to me?”

The brunette winces before tilting his head. “I don’t deserve it.”

In a single movement, you hurriedly crawl over to him as you slap him. Suddenly he’s on high alert as he grabs his cheek in pain. What the fuck? You smile sheepishly. “Don’t you dare say shit like that, Charles Leclerc. You have to believe in yourself the same way you did when you were a kid…I’m keeping the pin.”

His gaze darkens. “Oh, so you don’t believe I’m going to ever get a Championship either?”

“Don’t be stupid. I know you will, but I’ll take care of it for you. That way you have something to work for. I’ll be your temple,” you offer as he quirks a brow.

“My temple?”

You hum. “They’re knocking down the other, so I’ll take over. And I’m just letting you know right now that I’m not giving it up that easily. You have to work really fucking hard.”

Charles’ pulse speeds at your determination and belief, so much so, that a certain kind of pride that had left him long ago returned. He could do this, he could win. He would win. Even if it killed him. An unknown flicker strikes his green eyes as your stomach churns.

“You’re not like the others I’ve met…” He grabs your hand, making you flinch in surprise. “I’m going to do it. For you.”

It’s as if he stole your breath away as you struggle to regain your composure. “...And for him.” His grin never once melts away as he squints a shy eye, lashes fluttering. That was implied, too. You’re the first to pull away as you purse your lips. “Your turn. I pick Dare.”

The Monegasque coughs. “I dare you to tell me a secret.”

Your smile falters. “Don’t you think you have to work for it? I can’t just give it up like that.” Shaking your head and crossing your arms, you pout.

“Oh, come on! It could be any. Your pick.”

“How generous,” you murmur. “I dented your car.”

He gapes, eyes zigzagging as he forces a smile. “No, you said it was a little boy who kicked a soccer ball.”

You wince. “I was trying to back out of the driveway to go get us some donuts and I wasn’t looking and next thing I knew…” You’re rambling for sure. “It’s not that bad?”

Charles groans. “I told off the first little kid who passed by with a soccer ball, thank you for that.”

You shriek. “Liar! No! What did you say?”

A smirk slithers onto his face. “I’m totally kidding, I knew it was you.”

“But-”

“I heard when it happened - it’s what woke me up in the first place. I stood up to check and saw you driving away.”

“I’m sorry,” you chirp. “You shouldn’t have left the key out like that for me to grab! So if you really think about it, it’s kind of your fault.”

“Of course it is,” he pressed with amusement. “I forgive pretty easily, so I’ll let you off the hook.” Your palms sweat with uneasiness. “Your turn. I pick Truth.”

It’s as if you’ve suddenly become extremely dehydrated as you blink back blankly. “Got a crush on anyone back home?”

“Skip.”

This gets you curious as you arch your brow. The Monegasque goes to extreme lengths to avoid eye contact. “You have to answer, that’s not how the game works. I promise I won’t tease.”

Long fingers drum against his lap as he whips his head, shaggy hair brushing along his face. “Maybe so, but I’m using my free pass.”

You let out a heavy heave. “What are you talking about?”

“Remember I gave you a free pass when we first played Truth or Dare by the shore and I said I would only let you skip if I got one of those in return? Okay, well, I’m using it now.”

“Wha- that’s not fair! That was so long ago, it doesn’t even count.”

He chuckles. “Yes it does.”

With a sour expression, you huff and cross your arms. “Fine. I don’t want to play anymore.”

“You’re choice.”

The remainder of the day was spent with you locked away and Charles on a business call. Now that you knew what he was hiding, it was easier for him to get some work done. Either way, it worked out because before you knew it, you were nearly done. And he was clearly bothered.

“Looks like someone chewed your ear off.”

The Monegasque cringes at the brutal image as he sighs. “Do we have any more ice cream?”

“Nope. Finished it last night.” Analyzing his tense shoulders, you step closer to him as you tilt your head. “It won’t help you get over whatever’s on your mind, though. Want to talk about it?”

He extends his long legs underneath the table, head rolling back as he groans. You shiver, a pool forming in between your legs at the sight. Your body’s reaction feels filthy as you shake your thoughts away. “I was on the phone with my manager. They signed the contract. They actually did it.” He squeezes his eyes in disbelief.

“What contract?”

The brunette finally opened his green orbs, annoyance circling them. “Looks like I’m getting a new partner.”

This comes as a complete shock to you as you make your way to an open chair. “When? Who?”

“Starting 2025. Lewis Hamilton.” Kicking an empty chair away, he grunts. “Oh my God, and here I was thinking I had a chance…” He laughs hysterically. “A chance.”

Seeing him so distraught made your stomach hurt as you shook your head along with him. “I don’t see how this is a bad thing…change is good, no?”

A soft chuckles flies past him as he angles his head to catch your puppy lost state. “First of all, I really enjoyed having Carlos as a teammate. We worked well together. Second of all, compare me - a twenty six year old with five wins in his entire career - to a seven time World Champion.” His shoulders droop. “Who do you think is going to get all the attention and support from the team?”

Your lips part, then snap back shut. He smiles, already shrugging it all off. “It was doomed from the start, I don’t know why I’m so surprised.” Loopy eyes hug your sympathetic ones. “I just don’t want to let you down.”

Frowning hard, you tsk your tongue. “I have a feeling it’s impossible for you to do that. You’ve got this, have a little faith.” Slipping away from your seat, you stand next to his exhausted state, where his body continues to hang like a wet dog. “Will it be easy? No, probably not. But the best things take work. It makes it worth it all at the very end. You’ll see, Charles.”

“How is it that you have so much hope in me?” he whispered meekly, face slightly pale.

Brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, you raise your shoulders high. “Because I’m a firm believer that you will accomplish yours and your father’s dream. And I know what you’re feeling, I’ve been on that same boat before, I’m quite familiar.” I sort of still am, you conscious barks back.

For a moment, he lays still, green eyes taking you in, low breaths. Everything about this situation made you feel like a kettle, ready to cry out. There was something so intimate and raw with the way he was looking at you. As if you hung the stars up for him. You’ve never been one to stick around, so it came as no surprise to tear your gaze away, wobbly feet stepping back. “Just don’t-”

His hands are slightly slippery from his palms sweating. His chest is freakishly warm from his blood pumping. And his cock was most definitely hard.

Shifting on top of his lap, you giggle nervously as you try to avoid the lust in his eyes. And the heat in the pit of your stomach. “No, we said…” You furrow your brows. “This is wei-”

“No, you said that. I only played along.”

Inhaling sharply, you shake your head, hair practically whipping his face as he smiles gingerly. “You said the kiss was weird! I said the kiss was weird - we agreed.”

It’s his turn to narrow his eyes at you, large hands gripping your waist, keeping you from running away. “The situation was weird, but I’ve never felt a pair of lips feel so right against mine.” Long fingers trace your bare thigh. “I know you feel it too.”

“Your boner, yes, how could I not?” you hiss, face burning crimson red. “You’re going to ruin it-”

“No I won’t.”

“You’re going to regret it-”

His gaze darkens. “The only thing I’ve regretted so far is not telling you how I feel about you and not having kissed you the way I wanted to.” Green eyes soften up, almost pleading you. “Fuck. I need to - you don’t get it, I need to kiss you, amore. I swear to God if you say no, I might lose my mind.”

Your head begins to spin as you balance your hands on his broad shoulder. Behind your better judgment, you know you shouldn’t. This would only make things worse because you know the moment you lock lips with him and he finds out what you’ve done, how long you’ve lied, he’ll be so disgusted by you completely.

But like always, you push that all aside.

You basically pounce on him as you smash your lips to his. It was hot, it was heavy, you could feel his teeth clash with yours, his tongue sliding inside your warm mouth. He grunts deeply, pushing your hips down on him as you gasp. Arousal drips past your silky legs, already forming a wet patch against his denim jeans. Charles groans loudly at the feeling. Whimpering, you tangle a clumsy hand through his messy hair.

“You’re telling me this is ‘weird’ to you?” he teases against your pouty lips, pants entering your mouth as you whine like a kid at the dentist.

“You’re insufferable.”

“You won’t be saying that in a few minutes.”

Swiftly, he stands up, setting you down on his chair. You’re confused with his actions as you desperately try reaching out for him. He lets out a dark chuckle. Then, he’s kneeling down in front of you, bringing the chair closer to him. Oh God. The sound of the wooden chair squeaking is enough for you to snap out of it and blink rapidly, as if this were all a dream. He grins wickedly.

A beautiful fucking dream.

Shivering at the feeling of his calloused digits, you bring your brows together. He plays with the hem of your dress for a few seconds before sliding it up, cock growing harder at the sight of your red panties. “These dresses have been driving me crazy from the moment I met you.” He presses a sloppy kiss against your clothed center. “So pretty…”

“Charles…”

He cuts you off the moment he slides the thin material to the side, tip of his fingers rubbing your wet lips. Moaning, you instinctively drape your legs over his massive shoulders. With your entire strength, you try bringing his face closer to where you need him. He lets out a loud laugh.

“You really think you can push me down onto you?” He signals like a know-it-all. “Neck strength, baby, neck strength.”

“I don’t care if you’re a racing driver and that’s your entire exercise agenda, do something.”

That’s the only green flag he needs to dive in, sliding his tongue like an animal. Arching your back against the chair, one hand finds a home in his brown lock and the other grips around the armrest. Dizzy with his fast movements, you squeal when he sucks hard against your clit.

“You’re crazy,” you manage to pant before clenching around his digits that have now entered the equation. And he just curls them so deliciously inside on you that you begin to worry you might finish against his handsome face.

Pulling away, he looks up at you through dark lashes, a sly expression evident. “And you’re irresistible, perfect…” He growls when your hole tightens around his fingers, how your juices pour out. He can’t help but lick you clean, sighing against your thigh. “Simply perfect.”

It’s a haze and you barely have room to breathe, much less give him a fair warning, because suddenly your white nectar takes over and hits him all at once. You’re moaning loudly, he’s groaning as he slurps needily. It was just all too much.

And you didn’t deserve any of it.

Your chest rises up and down as you struggle to breath regularly again. It helps when he traces shapes around your legs, hot breaths of his own hugging your humid skin. His eyes take in your state as he looks up at you with complete defeat.

“How am I supposed to stay away from you, ange?”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm

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gyuvision · 4 months

Text

strawberry soju -> [back to masterlist?]

pairing : exes to ?? hong seunghan x fem reader

contains -> : drinking, mention of alcohol/being drunk

wc : 0.9k

preview ! - your drunken ex boyfriend calls you up out of nowhere, leaving him under your care for the night when he doesnt want you to go.

continue? ⬇️

you groaned at the sound of your phone buzzing once again. after all, it really does get annoying when its been 3 minutes and 7 missed calls.

“who could be calling so late? 10pm on a friday..”

setting down the ramen cup and pausing your favorite show, you swipe to accept the call, holding the phone up to your ear without checking the caller id. “hello? whos this?”

“y/nniee? that you?” the person slurred.

you knew that voice all too well, you didn’t even have to look at the contact name. “seunghan.” you sighed.

“you finally answered.” he exclaimed. you could practically hear his stupid smile.

“been drinking again?” you said, already knowing by his tone of voice.

“just.. a little tipsy..”

“are you-” you were cut off by someone elses voice.

“sorry y/n. he had a lot to drink.” eunseok joined in. “you mind getting seunghan? i know its.. awkward still. but my parents are supposed to go out soon, and i don’t want to leave my brother by himself.”

“hes sooo drunk that he seems to think you’re still together. he’s been asking for you all night!” sungchan snickered somewhere in the background.

“uh.. send me your location then? i guess its fine just this once. he wont even remember it in the morning.”

so you found yourself driving to a well known local restaurant to pick up your ex boyfriend. even though it was your choice, you couldnt help but wonder why you were doing this.

and you also couldn’t help but feel bad at the thought of seunghan being so drunk to the point he still thinks you’re dating.

“y/n, over here!” sungchan called out to you as you entered the building.

“wheres eunseok?”

“you just missed him. he had to go because he’s too worried about his brother.”

“my y/n! you’re here!” seunghan squealed going to pull you into a tight hug.

you awkwardly pat his head in return instead of hugging back. though you couldn’t say that you didn’t miss his touch.

sungchan helped you both to the car before he took off as well.

“god you smell like.. like, strawberry soju?” you exclaimed. “you really reek of alcohol. how much did you drink?”

seunghan replied by holding up 9 fingers, a lazy smile across his face and his eyes closed, with his cheeks a bright pink. “9 shots?” you scoffed as you set course for seunghans house.

“babyy.” seunghan whined. “im not your baby.” “you’ll always be my baby.” he teased back.

you sighed as you rubbed your forehead in frustration. “what do you want?”

“aircon please. i feel hot.” he mumbled as he tugged at the collar of his shirt.

you sank into your seat after turning on the air conditioning, putting up with how cold you were so he could feel better. after all, he was a bit of a liability right now though.

you walked up to seunghans apartment with him leaning into your shoulder while he had one arm around you for support.

“whats your code?” you asked, opening his keypad as you assumed he changed the password after your break up.

“same as always. your birthday. i would never change it.”

you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t soften even in the slightest.

after changing seunghans shirt for him then getting him tucked into the sheets, you went to get up to get ready and go home before he pulled you back into the bed with him.

“please dont go.” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around you, burying his head into your neck with a small whine.

“but didn’t you think that we..” “nah. just wanted to believe that we were. feel more confident when i’m that drunk.”

“im sorry.”

“why did you leave me?”

though seunghan had said some crazy things that night, nothing would’ve prepared you for that.

“seunghan..”

“i dont care about it anymore then. just dont leave me again. even if its only for today.”

you turned around in his grasp to press a light kiss into his forehead. “promise.”

you decided, maybe it wouldnt be so bad to spend the night. you realize you wouldnt mind being happy with seunghan again even if it meant that he wouldnt remember any of it.

‘but might as well, cause i cant help myself.’ [1:36]

‘i dont ever wanna know how it feels to not have you, my strawberry soju.’ [1:51]

#gyuvision #gyuvision - riize #riize x reader #riize smut #seunghan x reader #seunghan smut #riize fluff #seunghan imagines #seunghan fluff #riize imagines

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taintandviolent · 5 months

Text

morally violating ; Kai Anderson x reader

warnings: kai is the warning. okay okay, real warnings: hatefuck (surprise, surprise), female receiving, clothed sex, rough sex, spanking, aggression, choking, degrading language, unprotected sex. a/n: 2.7k words! turned out to be part 2 to my howlin' for you fic. i feel like an anon requested this, but I'll be damned if I can remember which one. if it was you -- here you go! it's late, but who cares. you guys don't care, it's Kai. was originally part of my lazy (and embarrasingly late at this point) kinktober. week two AND three; spanking, clothed sex and degradation. so uh... enjoy. sorry if it's clunky and bad and weird and rushed!

full fic & taglist under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! /

You swept the blush brush over your cheeks and heaved a sigh. Ultimately, you were disgusted with yourself. Right? It might not have been surface-level, but somewhere, deep down, you really were. You had to be. It was sickening that you hadn’t stopped thinking about the furious fuck you two had had almost two weeks ago. You, as a proud feminist woman, found that very morally violating. Actually, you found Kai very morally violating. And yet, here you were, threading the ribbon of a Red Riding Hood costume through the faux-corset front. You knotted it tightly and gazed in the mirror.

You made a cute Red Riding Hood and your tits sat nicely in this corset. At least there was that. There was the possibility that he wasn’t even going to come, which was probably the best option. There was also the possibility that he would walk through the door with Winter. If the latter happened, you’d feel like a fool in front of your friend, and an absolute pathetic, begging whore in front of her brother.

Which is what you were. You knew Kai would make sure to tell you that.

You heard the first ding of the doorbell. Giving yourself a final once-over, you turned and bolted down the stairs. Your eyes swept over your living room, making sure it was presentable. You’d decorated modestly. Streamers of orange, black and purple hung from the ceiling, those little table top decorations were clustered on your coffee table. Carved pumpkins greeted guests at the door.

With a bright smile on your face, you swung open the door. A cluster of friends from college stood on your doorstep; hugs were exchanged before you ushered them inside. It was non-stop after that. Your guests flooded into your home, and before you knew it, you had to hold your drink above your head to navigate. Within a few hours, you had yourself, by all definitions, a successful party. You were two Red Solo cups deep, and you still hadn’t spotted either of the Anderson siblings.

Your eyes unfocused, watching the throngs of people as they undulated to music and clustered in corners of the room. Reminiscent activities of a college party, some playfully slapped each other, some made out, while others danced, feeling the beat of the song playing. Others had taken to sitting on the staircase, lounging against the wall and the bannister as they chatted.

“Hey there, little Red Riding Hood…” a voice said. Your eyes refocused onto a particular head of blue hair, wavy locks hanging on either side of his face. His dark, brown eyes penetrated — no, violated yours.

“You sure are looking good.” Song quote. Cute. Not.

Everything he said sounded so threatening, even when it was complimentary. Especially when it was complimentary. He was scanning your body like a drill sergeant examining a soldier, scrutinising every minute detail. Intentionally, you puffed your chest out, lifting your cleavage and squaring your shoulders.

“Did you let yourself into my house?” You snapped, incredulously. “Where’s Winter?”

He stiffened, obviously put off by your immediate attitude. “She’ll be here. Later. Had something I needed her to do.”

“The fuck?”

A beat.

“…did you let yourself into my fucking house, Kai?”

“Did you intentionally dress up like Little Red Riding Hood after I dressed up as a wolf?”

Your open mouth closed wordlessly, lips rolling inwards. The question was rhetorical, and answering would only humiliate you further.

“Why don’t we go discuss your choices upstairs?”

You stared at him, a vicious fire burning behind your eyes. Hoping he’d… what? Retract his statement? Run back out the door, finally realising that you weren’t one to be fucked with? Doubtful. He never backed down in front of a woman. Besides, if he did, you’d likely stop him, catching his arm at his bicep and yanking him back towards yourself — because you didn’t want him to leave. And you knew it.

With a huff and a sharp turn, you headed up the stairs, navigating around the people that sat on the steps. Every feminist cell in your body screamed perilously at you as he followed you up your carpeted steps, the heavy stomp of his boots following closely behind you.

You were in no mood to self-rationalise, you were too busy trying to calm the drooling monster between your legs. You squeezed your eyes shut, silencing the thoughts as you opened the door. The guests would entertain themselves — this wouldn’t take long. It didn’t last time.

He began surveying your room, walking it with his hands behind his back as if grading you. When he came to your bathroom, he toed open the door with his boot, and peeked his head inside. He seemed satisfied with whatever he saw — maybe his own reflection. All of this made you acutely uncomfortable. You shifted your weight, flipping the frill of one of your petticoats.

“Come here.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said… come…. Here.” He repeated, more sternly than before.

For whatever stupid reason, you obeyed him. You marched your sorry little ass over to where he was standing, staring up at him like a lost puppy. The bathroom door was still ajar, and you could see inside, courtesy of the little butterfly night light that was plugged in above the sink.

Kai reached in, flattening his hand against the wall and flipped the light switch.

“Put your hands on the counter.”

You hesitated. This didn’t sound good. But as soon as Kai jerked his head in the direction of the countertop, you hurriedly flattened your hands on the counter, keeping your eyes locked on his reflection.

“Good. Good. Now we’re getting somewhere. You’ve thought about our little encounter at Winter’s party often, haven’t you?”

You shook your head.

THWACK!

Your jaw dropped, stunned, as a burning red welt swelled on your right ass cheek, the flesh tingling with pinpricks of pain as the blood rushed to the surface. There had been no warning for the first, and there wasn’t a warning for the second, or the third.

“Let’s try that — wait. Oh. You like this.” He spat. “Don’t you?”

You shook your head again, indignantly, and Kai reared his hand back. You flinched and tightened your muscles, waiting for the impending impact. You knew it would piss him off — maybe that’s why you did it. Filling your mind with horrible things that would hopefully keep the arousal at bay wasn't working. You were failing… miserably. Spanking wasn’t something you’d explored in the past, never would have thought to. But the way that he was leaving large, burning handprints on your ass cheeks had you leaking out into your underwear. You could feel it, you knew it. Fuck, so wet… fuckfuckfuck.

As if he could hear your thoughts — a terrifying thought — Kai hooked one finger around the crotch of your panties and harshly yanked them to the side, exposing your slick folds. The tip of his middle finger explored curiously, unsurprisingly finding the beginnings of a juice-fest. Slippery, clear liquid oozed from your opening, and you heard Kai chuckle through his nose.

“Oh, no? What’s this?” He asked, knowingly. You had yet again lied to him. You personally didn’t see it as a lie but as a vicious betrayal from your own body. A wet, vicious betrayal.

“Nothing,” you rasped, ashamed, and knowing full well what was coming.

“What was that?”

“I said… nothing.” Might as well accept your fate now. You gripped the edge of the counter, bracing for impact.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! Your knees buckled in pain, a desperate whimper falling from your lips. Welts rose until your entire backside was a crimson, burning masterpiece of his hands.

“Clearly, you haven’t caught on. Allow me to explain this to you. Every time you lie to me, you’re going to be punished. And I know what you’re thinking. ‘Oh, but Kai, I like it when you spank me like the disobedient bitch I am.’ Maybe so.”

You didn’t appreciate the mockery of your voice.

Kai flattened his palm on the searing mound of flesh, caressing it tenderly as if deep in thought. Somehow though, the gentle touch made it sting more than before. You writhed away from his hand, only getting an inch or two away before he crudely yanked you back into place. Tossing you around like some sort of rag doll. “But, eventually, pleasure turns to pain. It’s up to you if you reach that point.”

Condemn yourself or liberate yourself? The answer was obvious. You sought pleasure not pain, and if Kai was willing… You met his eyes in the mirror, boring deep into them. You bent your arms at the elbows, stretching them across the counter and arching your back, pressing the curve of your juicy ass against his groin.

“Just fuck me,” You begged. Pathetically, desperately, whiningly. “That’s all we both want. It’s why we’re — why we’re here. There’s your truth, Kai.”

For a moment, Kai didn’t speak, he just stared. Just… watched you in the mirror. You drew your bottom lip in and bit down hard, hoping to entice him further. Slowly, his large hands slid up your back, going as far as the fabric would allow before dragging them back down again, his nails raking against your bare skin. Abruptly, he took hold of your ass, squeezing the soft flesh too hard, twisting your expression into one of pain. With the still warm pain of the spanks, you couldn’t help but wince at the sensation.

“Is that really wha—

“Don’t ask me if it’s what I want,” you groaned. “Don’t fucking ask me that.”

That launched him into action; his hands leaving your body. He unbuttoned his jeans, reaching in to pull his throbbing cock free. His gaze drifted from you to himself, looking down at it. Decently hard, but could be harder. The chase hadn’t been as long as last time, giving him less time to get worked up. He gave it a few angry pumps before lining it up with your slit.

This was the second time you were going to fuck Kai Anderson — and in a similar way; pissed off and completely clothed. Behind you, Kai used the tip of his cock as a toy, slapping it messily against your swollen, blushing cunt, threads of precum stringing from your clit to his head.

You shuddered. Kai dragged his cock down, pressing the bulbous tip into your pink, weeping slit. Gushy and searing hot, the spongy walls clenched, forcing it back out. Kai grit his teeth and pushed the head in harder, breaching it. Slithery warmth washed over him, gripping it tight. His cock twitched inside of you, seeking out depth. “Ohhhhh…. Fuck. Fu-”

With the head of his now rock-hard cock planted inside you, he no longer needed his hands and let go, moving them up to sweep his hair out of his face. He was embedded inside of you now, slick walls gripping his shaft, carnally begging for more. Using only the strength of his core, Kai backed out and plunged his cock back in repeatedly, popping the head in and out of your wet pussy. With one determinate thrust and a deep groan, he pushed himself all the way in, his lower abdomen bumping against the fullness of your ass cheeks.

His hands dropped heavily to your ass, taking fistfuls and pulling the cheeks apart to watch as it slid in and out, coated in your arousal. You whimpered, eyes rolling back, lids fluttering speedily. You hated him so much, but it felt so good. To turn dick down this good… would just be a waste. Not only was it long enough to hit your cervix, his cock was thick and veiny and massaged your insides in all the right spots.

“Look at yourself,” he growled, reaching one hand around to pinch your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. Your lips puckered out like a fish. “Look at what a little whore you are.”

Slowly, you lifted your eyes to the mirror. You couldn’t deny your reflection; your red and white petticoats fluffed up around your waist, your previously perfect curls knotted in his fist, and your face distorted in a whorish display. The cherry on top was every time Kai’s cock bottomed out inside you, you winced and let out the most pathetic, whimpering moan. It was like a bad porn moan, and it was coming from you. Kai’s hand retreated from your face, slithering down to your neck, where he gave a firm, warning squeeze before returning to its place on your hip.

“I bet…” He paused, thrusting hard into your cunt a few times. His words were breathy and laboured. “I bet you’ve been thinking about this since that night. You like this.”

You had — that part was true. The other part about ‘liking’ it? Up for debate. Your pussy certainly did with the way that she clenched her slick walls around his thick cock, hungrily gripping it every time he tried to slide out.

“You fuckin’,” You clenched around him, letting out a shrill moan through gritted teeth. Your voice cracked. “You fuckin’ wish, Kai.”

THWACK!

That one really hurt. Hot tears welled up before streaming down your cheeks, leaving lines in the rouge. Kai slowly leaned over you, pressing his toned stomach against your back and even through clothes, you felt the muscles tensing. He angled his lips right next to your ear, and hissed: “I don’t have to wish for anything. I get everything I want.”

His hot whisper made you shiver violently. And he didn’t — he was right. You were giving him everything he wanted, everything he asked for. Just like one of his little pathetic, whinging groupies. He started pulling you onto his cock, hard, and your entire body seized up, your walls shuddering, pulsing, quivering with the sensation. You pressed your head into the countertop, moaning loud into the sink. The wet, slapping sounds drifted into a singular dull thudding noise; your ears were ringing, your chest heaving. His pace quickened, his thrusts merciless. The taut coil in your tummy wound tighter, creating a deep pressure above your bladder. Your thighs quivered, knees feeling like jello as you tried to hold yourself up against the counter.

“Fuck, Kai - fuck-fuck-I’m gonna’ fucking—

With a winded groan, Kai tensed up, and plunged himself as deep as he could go, pulling your hips hard onto his cock. Hot, white euphoria erupted inside of you, filling you up and oozing out the sides of your cunt with each unsparing thrust he gave. Unable to hold it any longer, you arched, screaming towards the mirror. Kai leaned back and pulled out slightly, just enough to watch as your pathetic little cunt clenched through your own orgasm, fluttering desperately around the tip of his dick. He gathered your underwear again and pulled them up, before snapping them down on your ass. The strings of cum that dripped from you seeped into the fabric, sticky and warm.

Kai reached around again, lifting you up by your neck. This time, his cheek pressed against yours, rubbing it like a dog nuzzling its owner. “You’re going to spend the rest of your little gathering feeling that, understood?”

You said nothing and he gripped harder; slight pressure on your windpipe.

“Understood?” Again, nothing and Kai pressed his palm against your throat until you gasped, thrashing your head up and down in a panic. “SAY IT.”

A weird whine came from your throat as you desperately gasped for air. Your pupils dilated. Finally, you croaked: “I-I’m going to feel your c-cum between my… my-legs all night long.”

The pressure released, and Kai had turned away from you, busy stuffing his heavy, flaccid cock back into his dark jeans. Shakily, you straightened up, pulling your skirts back down where they were intended to sit. Thankfully, he hadn’t fucked up your makeup like he did last time - you could pass as just a tipsy girl who had just smeared her mascara a little.

Once you two were downstairs, you paused at the bottom of the stairs. The party thrived; nobody had noticed you were gone. You heaved a sigh of relief, knowing that now, nobody could pin it against you. No questions, no accusations. Me? Fucking Kai Anderson? Absolutely not, I’d rather die. Gag.

“We’ll have to discuss your constant lying at a later date.” And with that, he was gone. Gone to spread the good word of his weird little fucked up cult, and get more people to campaign for him, or whatever it is he did. You watched him, eyes narrowed, as he manoeuvred through the groups of people. He’d done it again. Motherfucker. You shifted your weight, feeling the sticky mess between your legs as dried into the fabric of your panties.

Coming down off the orgasm was one of the worst feelings; reality set in, and you were painfully reminded that you’d just fucked your sworn enemy. A poster boy of toxic masculinity had just filled you up with his seed. Sickening. A voice from behind jolted you out of your fuming stupor — Winter.

“You should really stop lying to him.”

You barked out a flabbergasted laugh. “That’s what I should stop, Winter? Lying to him?”

“Yeah,” she muttered lowly. “He hates liars.”

t a g l i s t : @kaismanwich / @garykingz/ @elsamars / @silverzoomies / @tatesdisasterofalover / @thewolveswithin / @80strashbag / @twinkiemaximoff / @spill-the-t / @stucktothetwo / @enchanting-evan / @yesdevineruler / @anonymous0316 / @eventually27 / @violetharmonscupcake / @my-own-walker / @kai-slut / @demxnicprxncess / @fuckedbykai / @iluwmycats / @dewberryobssesed / @the-goblin1 / @dirtyfairy97 / @jellyluvr / @strangerthings420 / @kai-anderson-whore / @piecesofcain / @lilthbunny / @quickandsilvers / @tatelangdonsweater / @ifeeltoofuckingmuch / @howtobesasha / @randominstake / @throwinginmythai / @hyperharlz / @poltoreveur

#i'm literally so sorry if this is bad #i'm v insecure over this fic because the writing juices have just not been there lately folks #kai anderson #kai anderson x you #kai anderson x reader #kai anderson smut #ahs smut #myfics #lizzieslazykinktober

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fir3ylolol · 6 months

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i had an idea…i’ve been thinking A Lot about that one johnny cage skin with the red shirt where he has the forearm tattoos…. maybe they’re those long lasting temporary ones and he has them on for a movie? and reader is realllllly into them

place beyond the pines

pairing: Johnny Cage x Reader

summary: your boyfriend comes home, with a couple of new additions 0.0

tw: vaginal penetration, fingering, afab reader, gn reader, slightly dirty talk, groping, established relationship, sloppy makeout, smut, shameless smut

a/n: im alive! ive beaten a cold, finally. glad to write again! it's almost break for me, so i'm gna try to stay consistent. and if not…don't be mad at me pls. ALSO check out my works in progress post linked in my pinned to see what's to come ;P

word count: 1.15 k

Ao3

The front door shuts firmly, and you perk up at the sound. That sound means only one thing: your boyfriend is home. He’s not usually home at this hour, so you’re really excited to see him more after a long, lazy day in sweatpants and baggy t-shirts. But as you rush out to see him, you’re stopped by the sight in front of you. There, standing by the doorway, is Johnny, in a tight red compression shirt with the sleeves pushed up. On his exposed forearms, you see black and white American Traditional tattoos, interlaced with a snake twisting its way up his arm. You’re caught off-guard, frozen across the room from him as he puts his keys down on the entry table.

He turns to face you, with a wide but tired smile. But he notices your still state and his face drops slightly in confusion. He walks over, shaking your shoulders lightly. “Love? You ok there?” You snap out of it, shaking your head as you do. “Yeah, sorry, I just…what are those?” You shakily reach your arms out to trace down the patterns. He lifts them to meet your hands, smile returning, “Don’t you think they’re cool? They’re just temporary, but it’s for that movie I was just cast in. You know, ex-cons tend to have tattoos so,” he gestures with his head. You start to fluster further, feeling the warmth of his skin under the intricate patterns and artwork. Finally, the gears start turning in his head and he laughs lightly. “You like them, don’t you?” Your head bolts up, embarrassed that you were so blatantly called out. You shake your head rapidly, stepping back slightly. “No, I just think the art is cool!” He steps forward, smirking at how flustered you are, lightly grabbing your wrist.

“Really? Because it feels like you think it's hot, and it’s flustering you,” his other hand coming up to cup your face tenderly. You try to turn it into a joke, pushing past his touch to walk towards the kitchen. “Come on, stop playing. You must be hungry, ri-” You’re abruptly cut off as that familiar pair of arms wrap around your waist and hold you in place. You’re about to protest until you hear a gravely quiet voice in your ear, “You’re a shit liar, you know.” Suddenly, your feet no longer touch the ground, being carried towards the couch with little to no say. You would fight it but…you don’t really want to. Your eyes are locked on the sight of them, art straining against the veins that pop out of his skin as he constricts around you. You feel him slowly sit down, grip on you still tight as you end up on his lap. You expect him to ease up, but when has Johnny ever gone easy? You notice his hold on you loosening, but his hands start to travel. One traces its way up your chest, reaching your head and gently holding your jaw. The other slips towards your waistband, fingers moving teasingly slow. He leans his head forward, warm breath against your ear as he whispers, “I had a pretty long day…wanna help me relax, baby?” Overwhelmed slightly by him, you nod against his hold on your face.

You watch as his inked hand slides lower, not as teasing anymore. But he loves to put on a show, and he shuffles your sweatpants off slightly. His voice, slightly louder this time, rasps out, “Gotta make sure you can see the whole show.” Helping direct your head down, you watch as his fingers circle against your clit. You jolt at the feeling, but his grip on you tightens slightly, keeping your back pressed into his strong chest. You’re slightly dizzy, watching as he sinks one finger inside you, hand tensing at the feeling. You can feel a heavy sigh from him, as he continues to curl in and out of you. His thumb reaches up, returning to sit comfortably against your clit again. As he moves, speed increasing bit by bit, you can’t help to whine out. The sight of his detailed art disappearing inside you, the feeling of his rough thumb moving so softly. As he slides another finger in, a gentle moan slipping out, he lifts your head again. He tilts it back, resting it against his shoulder. You watch with half-lidded eyes as he brushes your face off, his face barely visible from your angle. But he never stops, steady pace as you squirm at the sensation. But his free hand shows up again, clinging to your chest. It’s as if he’s holding himself back from moving at a ruthless pace, but he can only hold so much back. You can hear murmurs echoing through his throat against your right ear, incoherent, but very much through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, he’s speeding up more, his hand on your chest loosening slightly. At the angle of your head, you can’t muffle yourself, louder and louder moans as his hand starts to grab and massage your chest. You can hear him clearer now, voice carrying better, “God, look at you. You look so good like this, spread out just for me. You feel so good, baby, shit.” You can feel him growing sloppier, and more impatient than before. But you’re not far from cumming, your hands desperately searching for purchase. One latches to his thigh under you, and the other on his wrist, moving as he pumps his fingers inside you. You help guide him slightly, shuddering as he touches the exact right spot. You’re nearly seeing stars, but you lift your head, letting it flop forward. His entire arm is moving at this point, both flexing at the effort he’s exerting. As you manage to gasp out that you’re close, the hand on your chest lets go and shoots back to your jaw. He turns your head, angling in back and to the side, as his lips collide with yours. His kisses are as sloppy as his moves, desperate for more of you than there is. Your grip tightens and you feel him groan into your mouth at the feeling. That does it, a harsh flinch as you cum around his fingers. Both of you are moaning at this point, unable to break the kiss. You’re not sure which voice is yours anymore as it echoes through your head. But as he removes his fingers, you break the kiss, taking a deep breath as you rest your head against his shoulder again. You hear as he brings the drenched fingers to his mouth, wanting to get every last bit of you as possible. But it only lasts so long, as he removes them with a quiet, “Ew, these things taste bad.” After a pause, he scrambles to clarify himself, “Not you! The tattoos! They taste bad, not you.”

#johnny cage #fir3y asks #fir3y requests #mortal kombat #mk x reader #x reader #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #afab reader #johnny cage mk1

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nomnomnoona · 6 months

Text

ATEEZ: The Morning After (aka Round 2 from the night before) MAKNAE LINE

Adult OT8 imagine drabbles. Minors, please do not interact. Read the Hyung Line here.

San had planned this weekend for a good month and a half.

It was your last week before your master's abroad and San had moved mountains to match your schedule so you two could spend some time together before you'd be gone for two months.

Sure, you'd come back for the break after two months, but that was the longest you'd be apart since you two began dating.

It was just supposed to be a slow weekend in. Takeout, a b-movie marathon, breakfast in bed, taking a walk in pajamas--wholesome.

Wholesome, lazy things.

Manageable, right?

San knew you wanted to wait and he didn't question it once. He didn't even flinch when you brought it up halfway through a make-out session that set up a proper tent in his pants. In the midst of that, the man managed so nod, smile, and pull you into the most gentle hug until you fell asleep.

He knew you weren't ready, but as your boyfriend, he was, of course, hoping. And though it took all his willpower and then some, he was willing to wait as long as it took for you to be ready.

It was that moment San came over to help you cook and eat everything left over in your fridge so you could prepare to leave, that it hit you.

He was leaning over the counter cutting up mushrooms for the most imaginative soup of leftovers when you crept up behind him and slipped a hand under his shirt. He didn't flinch. He just smiled, until your hands snaked their way up his chest. That's when you felt him flinch.

You had been avoiding sexual contact with San for the last three months since you told him you weren't ready. It was almost second nature that you two were like an old, married couple. So much so, you had started to convince yourself that San was no longer sexually attracted to you.

Silly, you thought to yourself. This was something you brought about. San was just holding up his end of the deal. He was doing what you had asked him to do.

At some point, it messed with you. And that mixed into the panic of you going somewhere unfamiliar, so far from what was familiar. Then all that just piled up into a heap of bullshit that you thought, fuck it, today, you were going to fuck San sideways.

So it was in that moment that he flinched when you grazed his nipple, that you knew, this was going to be worth a few more toe dips into the water before you jumped right in.

San lay the knife down as you heard his sharp intake of breath. He set it aside and chuckled, trying to play it off. You pulled back and he released a sigh of relief until you stuck a finger between the garter of his black sweatpants and his sex cut.

"Uhm," his weak objection was nothing short of hoarse.

"I'm not trying to make this hard," you said.

San took a deep breath, "I'm finding that hard to believe," then your hand just outright landed on his already prominent boner.

"This one though," you giggled, "Mission accomplished."

"I need to hear you say you want me to fuck you or I'll just walk--"

"I want you to fu--"

You woke up stiff. Your entire body aching in the best possible way as you tried to stretch, eyes fluttering open to find San approaching you with a tray, clearly surprised you had woken up before he had completed his set up.

San put the tray down and crawled over to your side, pulling you into his arms as his little spoon. For some reason, there was a bit of remorse in the hug. You pushed back ever so slightly to tilt back and look him in the eye, finding his brows furrowed.

"Did you not enjoy last--"

He pulled you in again for a hug, his facing burying itself in your hair, "I'm so sorry. Did I hurt you? You said you weren't ready and then I do this to you before you leave for two--"

You quickly move to press your lips against his. In that moment you felt a tear of his fall onto the bridge of your nose.

You pull back, "I was ready, San."

"You promise?"

"As much as I promise to see you again in eight weeks."

You had woken up to a stabbing headache at 1am, inside a hotel room whose details in the furnishings brought back very distinct sensations you experienced while looking right at it as one very inebriated Song Mingi went to town on you.

You blushed every shade on the complete color spectrum when Mingi's stirring figure found its way into consciousness. Mingi sat up, spotted you and looked like he wanted to die.

You were best friends since you were children. You had gotten drunk in each others' presence since you both learned how to sneak out your brothers' ID to buy alcohol. All those years and this never happened. You never even thought of sleeping together until now.

"Is this supposed to mean something?" you asked, digging the pads of your thumbs into your temple, trying to massage the pain out.

Mingi buried his face in his hands, "I have no idea," his reply was muffled.

The silence was awkward as you both struggled to say something. No amount of small talk or a change in topic would pull you out of this. The only way was to discuss it or ignore it completely.

"But it was good," you both blinked. You had said it at the exact same time, not a single syllable was off.

Your synchronicity of thought and speech was no surprise to either of you since it always happened. It was normal that you were both so in-sync.

But what probably got you both is that you both enjoyed it.

True to your routine synchronicity, you both burst out into tear-filled laughter. It was quite the relief that this fit of laughter felt almost hopeful; as if confirming that sleeping together wouldn't ruin your almost lifelong friendship so far.

You both retained the same sense of humor and dynamic right after sex with the person you've known forever. Nothing felt more perfect.

Although this was no real indication if fucking your best friend wouldn't have long-term effects on your relationship with each other, it brought you some comfort nonetheless. At least this was something you could enjoy as it is.

Both your laughter eventually faded and you just moved over to the couch with your phone in hand. You took a seat and began to scroll, your headache was getting worse, but you didn't want to go back to sleep.

Mingi called out your name, "Head hurts?"

You nodded, releasing a grunt and deciding to just lay on the couch sprawled open, "Like hell," you replied.

"You know," he stood, walking over to you. His face-scrunching laughter from a minute ago left no traces. He looked serious, almost deadly. Your heart raced. He all but crawled to you the moment his leg touched the couch.

He set one knee between your legs, dangerously close to your crotch as he bent down to place a hand on either side of your head. Mingi was so close that you could hear his shallow, but rapid breathing, "I read somewhere that sex cures headaches."

Wooyoung was never one to carry baggage for very long. He was an in-and-out type of guy who, no matter how much something bothered him, he found a workaround. He never ran out of ways to access a part of him that was free from whatever hurt or enraged him. He's always been the reliable one.

But there was one night that you came home to the apartment you both shared and he immediately saw how tightly your fist was clenched. You tossed your car keys so hard it slid right out of the dining table and hit the wall. You jaw was tight, eyes sharp, and though he knew that you were aware of his presence, you were fighting the urge to look him in the eye. He has never seen you so angry.

He slouched back in the couch and watched you take on your daily routine. You left your shoes at the door, washed your hands in the kitchen sink, and reached into the pantry for a pack of instant ramen. The induction stove wasn't cooperating and though he could only see your back, Wooyoung could tell you had your last straw.

You walked out of the kitchen and he took that as his queue. He took the stove out, noting mentally to buy a new one finally, and grabbed a kettle to heat water.

Almost ten minutes later, you came out with your phone to your nose, scrolling intently through the takeout options. The smell of ramen and cheese tteokbokki pulled you out of your trance.

Wooyoung was sitting with a stupidly large grin on his face almost as if he was thinking "I did good? Are you better?"

Quietly, you took a seat across him and you both had dinner in silence.

The gesture filled you up, but not in the way food did. It filled you up in the way remembering you had the best friend in the world did. Articulating how you feel and asking for help is hard. It's exhausting and sometimes being an adult just isn't in the cards on days like this.

So to have someone like Wooyoung who was so receptive and sensitive, it helped you remember it's just a shitty day, not a shitty life.

Wooyoung was seated on the edge of his bed, eye glasses on, deeply engaged in his favorite past-time--watching foreign shows without captions or dubs and trying to guess the context.

For someone who looked like a genius, this sure did raise a few concerns.

"Hey!" his greeting was warm as he pat the space next to him.

"Are you going to turn the subtitles on at least?" you asked.

"Would you clean one ear and ignore the other?"

You knew so much about him but understood so little.

But instead of breaking your head over his WooWoo philosophy, you decided to do what you had come in for. You reached over and went for a big hug. You weren't too fond of them, but you knew he liked it and you figured this was a good way to let him know you appreciated him today.

"Hey," he cooed, warmly accepting your hug and turning to ensure you got as much of him as he could. His hand reached up to your head and stroked the back. You didn't plan for the hug to be so long, but something about it was so comfortable. It's like you fit into him perfectly. You felt so at home.

Next thing you knew, he was planting butterfly kisses on your temple, your eyelids, and then your lips. He didn't let the kiss last too long as he gently pulled back, "I'm really sorry," his breath was raspy.

"I--," he gulped. "I know you don't--I've been wanting to--I've been wanting you, but--never thought you would--," he took a deep breath and it looked like it almost hurt him to pull away, so you didn't let him.

You pulled him back into the kiss and set him down to lay on his back as you straddled him.

It would have been the morning after if it wasn't 2pm in the afternoon when you woke up Wooyoung scared the living shit out of you. He was lying on his smile, the biggest, stupidest grin on his face, "Morneeee," he almost squeaked.

"Is this how you are after sex?"

"No," he shook his head. "But it was with you, so I'm a little stoked."

His smile softened into something much less 'kid in the candy store' to one that was gentle and almost dreamy.

"Are you thinking about going again? Because I'm kinda beat," you admitted. "Maybe later tonight again."

Without missing a beat, he said, "I wanna take you on a date."

Here's the thing about Choi Jongho. It's very easy to forget he's younger than you are.

While everyone at the theater had personalities that fit the stage, this Choi Jongho with lungs of steel and monumental stage presence was quiet as a mouse whenever he wasn't rehearsing.

However, you were lucky enough to know another side of him.

As the production manager of this new musical, it was your job to ensure everyone was doing their job. So one day, when a very full day kicked you in the ass, you dozed off somewhere backstage on the couch set piece.

You felt a nudge and then a poke, stirring you aware as you reached for your phone to check the time.

You jolted up when your phone flashed "10:04pm".

You immediately recognized the presence next to you. Jongho was standing over you with his script and a pencil, which you assumed was what he used as the poking device.

"Your snoring was disrupting my internal timing," he deadpanned.

"Wait," you fixed your hair and looked around for your belongings. "What are you even doing here at 10pm, Jongho?"

"There are less people to cushion the acoustics," again, absolutely deadpan. Without any more context, he walked back to the stage and set his script and pencil down, resuming his own private rehearsal.

A solid hour later, you were seated on an empty hard case, waiting for Jongho to finish so you could lock up. As if on queue, he turned the corner, "Why are you still here?" he asked.

"I need to lock up," you said as you hopped off.

He lifted his own set of theater keys.

"Why do you have those?"

"Why not?" Jongho pushed the door open, gesturing for you to step out first. You were about to move when you caught his smirk.

"Wait, so how long have you had your own keys?"

He was now smiling, "Long enough to know you like the storage closet on the right-most part of the backstage area."

You felt your blood drain from your face. That storage closet was the inside joke of the company. Every time someone passed by it after rehearsals, someone was sure to be fucking inside. Having been in this company at least three years, you had your fair share of closet sex already with an actor or two.

"And," Jongho continued, "Long enough to know it looks like it's worth a try if I stayed after rehearsals and ran into you dozing off again on the set pieces."

Probably the biggest perk about deciding not to lock up just yet and drag Jongho into the closet, was that you got to find out first-hand exactly where that big voice of his came from. You also learned that as much as you loved the sound of him singing, you had a much deeper appreciation of his moans.

Soon, you both stepped out, straightening your clothes out when he blurted out, "I'm surprised no one thought of using the old tech booth in the second floor. It's sound proof."

He looked you in the eyes and smirked.

"Are you planning to perform an entire Aria next time we rehearse late?"

He shook his head, unaffected by what you were trying to imply, "No, but after I'm done with you, we might actually get a noise complaint. I'm just looking out for us."

Thanks for reading :)

#ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez fanfiction #jongho #wooyoung #ateez #mingi #san #mingi x reader #choi san x reader #jongho x reader #wooyoung x reader #ateez drabbles

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