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swiftispunk · 1 year

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in my hometown, part i | joel miller x f!reader

series masterlist

pairing: neighbour!dbf!joel miller x fem!afab!reader (+ platonic!tommy and platonic!sarah)

summary: pre-outbreak/tlou. tomorrow you leave town for good. tonight, you cross the line with your neighbour, joel. set in 2002 bc it’s fun. slight canon divergence (sarah’s mom is vaguely in the picture later)

rating: 18+ (no minors please)

word count: 6.5k (hehe)

warnings etc: angst, some fluff, smut, alcohol use, dbf!joel, soft!joel, 10 year age gap (joel is 35 reader is 25), unprotected p in v sex, fingering, oral (m receiving), technically exhibitionism, mentions of divorce, reader’s mom is definitely verbally abusive. NO USE OF Y/N.

A/N: here’s something a little different! i am getting to writing more javi soon, but this idea has been in my head for so long now, originally as a one-shot inspired by “’tis the damn season.” but i really wanted to establish reader and joel’s relationship a bit more first so here we are. part two is imminent bc it is basically already written!

series music inspo <3

I know the reason why you think you gotta leave, Promises of future glory don't make a case for me I did my best and all the rest is hidden by the clouds, I can't carry you forever, but I can hold you now

You’d begun to notice it in the little things.

A few years back now, once you’d really started to come into your own, teenage awkwardness giving way to all the misguided confidence that comes with your early twenties.

That’s when Joel’s eyes had started to…linger.

You’d welcomed it, of course, the way he’d practically double-take any time you’d come across the street to babysit Sarah or he’d stop by your place with Tommy to help your dad with some job around the house. Hell, you’d made a game out of abusing the attention, trading in your overalls for tight jeans that better showed off your burgeoning ass, ditching t-shirts for low-cut tanks throughout the hot summer months in Austin, relishing the way Joel would clear his throat or pointedly avert his eyes whenever you so much as greeted him with a wave.

But that had been the extent of it. Years of you pining after him, him pretending not to notice, all amounting to nothing more than a few errant moments of close calls and heated exchanges.

Like on your twenty-first birthday, for example.

You’d come home late from the bar, wasted after your first night of legal drinking. Your friends had been buying you shots as if you weren’t finally capable of buying them for yourself and you could definitely also recall a guy supplying you with cheap beers. Although you couldn’t remember his name, your whole body has still been buzzing from the way he’d had his hands all over you before you’d ultimately made the decision to be responsible and call it a night.

But you hadn’t been expecting to find your dad and Joel, sipping beers and watching Late Night in the living room when you’d stumbled through the front door, both of them eyeing you with thinly veiled amusement.

Of course, Joel’s eyes had looked a little different than your father’s, glazing over a bit at the sight of you in your tight dress and stilettos, eyebrows darting to his hairline when you’d bent over to undo the buckle on your shoes.

“What are you party animals still doing up?” you’d slurred.

“Pot, meet kettle,” your dad had joked, rising from his spot in his favourite chair, stretching his aging limbs. “Just wanted to make sure you got home safe, kiddo.”

He’d patted Joel on the shoulder, an unmistakable dismissal.

“You stick around and finish your beer, Miller, I’m goin’ to bed,” he’d said to Joel, as you stood frozen in the entryway. Joel’d seemed to have gone tense too, but you couldn’t have been sure.

“Night, old man,” Joel’d said. You’d echoed his sentiments when your dad had stopped to kiss your cheek and wish you a “happy birthday” for the five-hundredth time that day.

You could’ve gone right to bed too, but that wouldn’t have been any fun.

So on shaky, drunk legs, you’d padded your way across the living room and taken your dad’s spot in the chair, stretching your bare legs out on the ottoman, feeling Joel’s eyes on you even as he fought to keep them fixed on Conan.

It had been quiet for a moment, and then the alcohol in your system had decided it wanted to be a part of the conversation.

“Aren’t you gonna tell me I look good?” you’d demanded, turning to face Joel head-on so he was forced to take in the sight of you, all made up with your hair tossed wildly around your face, a thin sheen of sweat glistening on your cheeks and chest from hours of dancing and drinking.

He’d smirked, as he’d looked you over, noting the look of expectation in your eyes and shaking his head.

“Do I really need to?”

“I wish you would,” you’d admitted.

His brows had furrowed a bit and he’d taken a sip of his beer, visibly responding to your forwardness with another shake of his head. He’d glanced at you again out of the corner of his eye, while you’d stared at his big hand around the bottle, watching in wonder at the way it connected with his lips.

“You look great, kid,” he’d conceded then, toasting his beer bottle to you and making your stomach do a backflip. Your heart had skipped a beat, even though he’d given you exactly what you’d wanted.

“Thank you,” you’d purred triumphantly. Then the booze had decided to chime in again. “Some guy at the bar thought so too.”

What had compelled you to say it, you still don’t know. Though, you suppose, if you had been trying to affect him with it, it seemed to have worked.

“That so?” he’d gritted, taking another sip of beer and turning away from you to focus on the TV again.

“Mmm, yeah, he was real sweet,” you’d sighed, remembering the flirtatious stranger, the drinks he’d bought you, the way your bodies had melded into one on the dancefloor. “He wanted me to go home with him, can you believe that?”

“Actually, I can,” Joel had said and you’d smiled invitingly at the insinuation.

“‘Cause I look so great?”

“And ‘cause you’re drunker’n all hell.” He’d sounded so disapproving. Why had that been that so hot?

“What? You think I’d let someone take advantage of me?” Your voice had shot up about ten octaves, seemingly without you meaning it to. “Have you no faith in me, Joel Miller?”

“In you, kid? Not a chance.”

That - along with the healthy dose of tequila swimming in your guts - was all you’d needed to make your next move. Daringly, you’d moved from your spot on the chair to splay yourself out beside Joel on the couch. You’d wobbled as you’d done it, and he’d had to steady you with a firm hand on your back and a gentle, “careful now.” You’d both chuckled when you’d flopped against his side, Joel being far too mindful not to touch you.

At least until you’d looked up at him with big, put-on, wide eyes, subtly (or so you’d thought) pressing your tits together with your arms against your sides.

“I don’t let just anyone in my pants, you know,” you’d said, too suggestively. Oh well, no turning back now. You’d felt his breath hitch and his body go rigid beside you, noting how he’d tried and failed to avoid darting his eyes down to your ridiculous cleavage. That had been when he’d bowed his head a little closer to you, placing his free hand placatingly on your bare leg.

“You tryna get me in trouble here, kid?” he’d sighed, but you could hear the exasperation in his voice. The good kind.

You narrow your eyes at him, feigning offence at the familiar nickname.

“Maybe you missed it, Joel, but I’m actually a woman now.”

No mistaking it this time - his eyes had definitely darted quickly to your chest and back up to your lips, before he’d (seriously) squeezed his eyes shut altogether.

“You’ve made it pretty tough to miss, sweetheart,” he’d grumbled, freeing his eyes from the protection of his lids and looking up to the heavens like that was going to help.

“You like what you see?”

Joel’d grinned a little then which you’d realized later was because you’d sounded so fucking stupid actually trying to flirt in your drunken state, your head spinning from the liquor in your bloodstream and the sensation of Joel’s big hand taking up your thigh.

Perhaps playing his own little game, he’d slowly angled his bearded face closer to yours, your heart beating out a disjointed rhythm so loud he must have heard it - and you’d really thought that was going to be the moment -

But then he’d been whispering hotly in your ear instead of using his mouth for better things.

“Go to bed, darlin’.”

Other than those moments - the ones that actually breathed some semblance of excitement into your boring life in Austin - neither of you ever dared to go beyond the perfectly platonic relationship you’d spent the last decade cultivating. After all, he’s ten years your senior and probably your dad’s only friend since your mom had left.

Of course, if you were smart, you’d have taken the plunge a bit sooner because now, you’re out of time. Tomorrow you leave for LA, chasing the distant dreams that have defined you since you were old enough to imagine them. The only thing left now is the goodbye party your dad has planned for you later tonight.

Joel locks the latch on the U-Haul trailer fastened to the back of your car, packed to the brim with the help of your dad and the Miller brothers, shooting you a devastating smile under the humidity of the Texas sun.

Like it’s the most familiar thing in the world, he throws an arm over your shoulders, looking down at you with mock concern.

“You sure you wanna go?” he asks.

No. Not even a little bit, now.

“Hmmm, you’re right, I think I’ll stay,” you say instead, in the same facetious tone. “You can unpack all this shit, right?” You gesture to the trailer as you say it.

Joel responds by briefly squeezing you in tighter before letting you go with a laugh, the most beautiful fucking sound in the world. Then your dad is inviting you all to the back deck for beers - the same deck Joel and Tommy had helped build over a decade ago now, planting the seeds for his longtime friendship with “those boys across the way.”

You’d be content if this was the extent of your farewell.

You and Joel, lounging on the wicker loveseat out back, your father and Tommy locked in conversation over the Rangers most recent loss. It’s so easy to imagine Joel as something more like this. To imagine him as yours. With his muscled arm slung casually across the back of the little couch, you could be forgiven for finding it all a bit domestic.

“You boys come by any time tonight,” your dad announces then. “And then tomorrow this one -,” he tips his beer bottle in your direction - “will hit the road around eight.”

“We’ll be there,” Tommy promises with a wide grin.

“You feel free to bring the little one, too, Joel,” your dad adds. Sarah.

“Ain’t so little anymore,” Joel chuckles.

“Watch out, it happens fast,” your dad says with another nod in your direction.

“I believe it.”

Eye roll.

Your dad and Tommy get to chatting again and then Joel is turning to you.

“M’gonna miss you,” he says using that same arm behind the couch to pull you in against his side.

You push off him out of habit.

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious!” Joel laughs. “It’s gonna be weird not havin’ ya around.”

Don’t overthink it, don’t overthink it, don’t overthink it, he’s just being nice.

“Well, I’ll visit,” you lie, the same lie you’ve been telling everyone in the lead-up to your imminent departure.

“Like hell,” Joel protests. No fooling him, Joel always sees right through you. “I know how bad y’want outta here. S’alright. Just try n’stop in before Christmas, at least. Promise?”

He’s looking at you with these big, doleful eyes and placing that old placating hand on your knee in a manner he probably finds harmless but that has your heart racing and brain turning to mush.

Because the truth that you’d never say out loud is, if Joel asked you stay, you would.

“Promise.”

You make a silent oath to yourself then, too:

You’re telling Joel how you feel before you leave. You aren’t leaving Austin without trying it with Joel Miller.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Do you have a plan for what you’re going to say? No. Are you mentally prepared for him to shut you down? Hell, no. Are you wearing your best dress that shows off your curves spectacularly, combing through bodies at your ostentatious party looking for Joel like a hunter on the prowl?

Tragically, yes.

Country music blares from your dad’s sound system, you’re getting comfortably drunk on wine, and you’re stunned to discover how many people have come out to see you off.

Because apparently your father has invited every person you’ve ever so much as crossed paths with, the absolute maniac. Friends from high school mingle with classmates from theatre college, co-workers chat with family and all the while there’s your fucking mother, flown in all the way from Palm-fucking-Beach, whose antagonistic relationship with your dad is enough to ruin any party.

“Don’t tell me your father is letting you wear that,” you can hear her badgering your sister from the other room. “Fourteen-years-old and you’re still wearing your sister’s hand-me-downs like some kind of street urchin.”

Jesus Christ.

You’re ready to go save her from the onslaught, but then you notice Tommy and Sarah looking through your dad’s CD case in the back room. Your sister would have to fend for herself this time.

“You aren’t trying to get her into George Strait, are you, Tommy?” you tease, sneaking up on them, catching both their attention as they turn to you with warm expressions. “’Cause that’s all you’re gonna find in there.”

“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that,” Tommy laughs in his familiar Southern drawl, pulling you into a tight hug. His big arms around you are almost familiar as Joel’s, but in a different way.

“I’m sure your brother’s already corrupted her by now.”

“Yeah, right!” Sarah protests, her Destiny’s Child t-shirt enough proof of that.

“You’re lookin’ good, superstar,” Tommy comments then, holding your arm out to get a better look at the ensemble you’ve put together. You roll your eyes at the stupid nickname he’d adopted ever since you’d announced your plans to take on Hollywood. “LA ain’t ready for ya.”

“Well I hope it’s getting ready, ‘cause I’m gonna need a job,” you banter easily with the younger Miller, while Sarah wraps her little arms around your waist.

“Don’t gooo,” she cries dramatically, burying her face into your side.

You chuckle as you give her a squeeze in response, patting her comfortingly on the back.

“I’m gonna visit, don’t worry,” you assure her. There’s that lie again.

“I hope you don’t,” another, brattier, teenaged voice is saying venomously then. Your sister, clearly having escaped from the barrage of bullshit that is your mother.

“It won’t be to see you,” you sneer back at her, matching her attitude. Sure, the kid didn’t deserve to get shit on by your mom, but it’s not like that made her any less obnoxious. Why your parents had ever decided to have a second child ten years after you’d been born, you’ll never understand.

Tommy, knowing a thing or two about sibling rivalry, finds it all ultimately harmless. Which it is.

“Alright, now, play nice, ladies,” he says with a smirk.

Easy enough - you have bigger fish to fry anyway. Your sister grabs Sarah by the arm, stealing her away with talk of the latest NSYNC release. You turn to Tommy.

“Hey, where’s your brother at?” you ask, trying to sound casual. It’s a valid enough question.

He shrugs. “Said he’d be comin’ a bit late, I ain’t seen him yet.”

Huh.

“Well if you do see him, let him know I’m looking for him, okay?” Casualness be damned then, you guess.

Tommy smirks. “Sure thing, superstar.”

You do your best to keep up appearances after that. You decide you might as well try to enjoy the party and attempt to mentally prepare yourself for when you do see him. There are plenty of faces to kiss and old friends to hug, enough to keep you distracted from staring at the front door as the minutes pass by.

You’re down about a half bottle of wine by the time you finally spot him through the sliding glass doors in the kitchen. He’s standing on the back deck he helped build over ten years ago, leaning on the ledge with his back to the door, beer bottle clenched tightly in one hand, staring out into the dark backyard. You hadn’t even seen him come in.

Weird. But okay. You take a deep breath. Time to bite the bullet.

Closing the blinds behind you, you join him on the ledge without a word, trying not to ogle at the way his tan skin is glowing under the motion sensor lighting.

“Oh, hey, kid,” he greets you, when you come up beside him.

“I’ve been looking all over you for you,” you tell him. “You hiding from me?”

“Just gettin’ some air,” he argues, sounding genuinely disagreeable. “Checkin’ up on the deck.”

He pats the wooden frame, like he’s testing it for durability. He’s been doing that...all night? You’re not entirely sure why he’s lying to you. But you don’t press.

“Well it’s sturdy as ever,” you say somewhat dubiously. It’s quiet for a moment, both of you breathing in the warm summer air in charged silence.

Don’t be a coward, you remind yourself.

Very deliberately, you lean forward on the ledge then, so your body looks a little longer, showing off the dress you’d worn specifically for him.

Joel takes a sip of his beer and looks you up and down.

“S’nice dress,” he comments to your delight, making your cheeks warm even if it’s the response you’d been hoping for. “You look good.”

You think he sounds a little distant, but you don’t let that stop you.

“You think so?” you smirk innocently.

“Like you don’t know.”

God, he always sees right through you.

“Know what, Joel?” you press anyway.

“You’re a bonafide stunner, sweetheart,” he says, shaking his head, taking another sip of his beer. “Hell, if you weren’t leavin’...”

Wait.

“What?”

You hadn’t been prepared for that.

“Nothin’ just -,” he backtracks quickly, twiddling the fingers of his free hand in a gesture that feels almost nervous. “You’re gonna knock ‘em dead out there, that’s all I’m sayin’.”

But it’s too late. Joel may see through your bullshit, but you can see through his too. Maybe this will be easier than you thought.

“I really am going to miss you,” you confess, realizing you hadn’t said it back earlier.

Joel looks at with you this heartbreaking half-smile, the sad kind, the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Yeah, me too.”

Maybe it’s the wine messing with your head, but you can swear you hear his voice waver, just the tiniest bit.

“I mean I never even got the chance to...,” your voice trails off as you inch your hand towards his where it rests on the ledge.

He watches with bated breath as you slide it slowly up his arm, feeling goosebumps rise on his skin where your fingers trace a line. You get as far as his bicep before he’s putting down the bottle to reach across his body and grip your wrist.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he warns, but it sounds so feeble, so phony.

You turn to face him and he doesn’t stop you, his grip on your wrist unrelenting, even when you move your other hand to place it against his chest, heart racing at the feeling of touching him, touching Joel - really touching him - for the first time like this.

“Why?” you demand. Here it comes. Your admission comes out rushed, in one breath, too late to stop it.

“Joel, I’ve had a crush on you since I was fifteen. I mean, you know that, right?”

You see his jaw flex but you don’t feel afraid. It feels good to finally say, to have him hear the words you’ve always wanted to say. Looking up at him through your lashes, you cautiously move your hand up his chest to feel the soft skin on his neck. He watches your motions with careful eyes, frozen under your touch but still, not stopping you.

“Can you honestly say you’ve never thought about it?” you whisper when he doesn’t respond and Joel exhales, shaking his head again like he’s trying to dispel the thoughts you’re accusing him of.

“S’not the point,” he protests, but you can see his resolve fading right before your eyes. “You’re -”

“Not a kid anymore,” you cut him off.

Seemingly without meaning to, he presses his body closer to yours, so close you can actually feel his heart pounding against you, punctuating the sound of your own heart beating in your ears.

“Your old man...”

A weak argument, and he knows it.

“Doesn’t matter.”

You snake your hand on his neck up so you’re touching his face, and he finally releases his grip on your wrist to rip your fingers off his cheek.

“What is it you’re after here, kid?” he growls, voice dark, too serious. And there’s that infantilizing fucking pet name again. “I got nothin’ to offer you, I mean - Jesus, you’re leavin’ town tomorrow.”

You swallow, his tone eliciting a fresh wave of nerves.

“I just...I just didn’t want to go without telling you,” you flounder, because you don’t know the real answer. What the fuck were you trying to accomplish? Still, you keep going. “Joel, you’re, like, the only thing I don’t hate about this fucking place.”

You use the hand you’d just had on his face to interlace your fingers with his, both of your eyes fixed on the way your digits fuse together between your bodies.

Time to make your final move.

“I don’t know when I’ll see you again...” you say, voice quivering at the thought, your gaze finally meeting his.

Hear what I’m saying, you beg him with your eyes. It’s now or never.

Joel seems to understand.

He takes a loaded breath and then releases your arm to wrap his own behind your back. Then finally, finally, he’s closing the space between you to press his lips to yours. You gasp even though you'd seen it coming, interlocking your hands around his neck, breathing in his familiar musky scent, more all-encompassing now than ever before.

A decade of pining and dreaming about it couldn’t have prepared you for how it actually feels to kiss Joel. It’s clumsier than you’d expected, his mouth moving against yours with feverish intent, his tongue invading your mouth ravenously, teeth nipping at your lips, his hands tangling in your hair.

He kisses you like that until you’re out of breath, lips swollen and heat burning beneath your cheeks, finally pulling away to rest his forehead against yours, while you both work to steady your breathing.

But then he’s suddenly unhooking your hands behind him and turning his face away from you.

“I shouldn’t do this,” he murmurs breathlessly. “Sorry.”

“Joel -,”

But before you can stop him, he’s lumbering his way back through the sliding glass doors, and then he’s gone.

You go through the motions at your own stupid party after that. Joel actively avoids you as you mill about in a daze, making your rounds, saying your goodbyes and drinking your way through the rest of your bottle of wine.

There are constantly bodies between the two of you, or he’s got himself locked in some intent conversation with your dad, never giving you a chance to corner him again and demand an explanation.

You aren’t going to let him off the hook. But it’s getting to be past ten and you can’t seem to find him in the crowd anymore. Eventually you’ll have to resign yourself to the reality that you’d had your chance with him, and you’d gotten all you could out of it. What more had you expected?

The whole party starts to feel like a chore then, especially the goddamn lecture you’re getting from your mother at the moment.

“I hope you planned your drive well,” your mom berates you in the kitchen, vodka sloshing in her glass as she waves it around chaotically. “You don’t want to end up stranded in the desert with no gas or water. I know how you like to pretend everything in your life will just magically work itself out-,”

“Okay, mom, I’m leaving tomorrow, do you seriously think I didn’t plan the fucking drive?” Your voice sounds too snappy but you don’t care. Where the fuck is Joel?

“Well your father doesn’t tell me anything, so how should I know?” she bites right back. You’re ready to bring out the claws in defense of your father but then you see him. Joel, ducking past the kitchen and up the stairs.

“Take it up with him, why don’t you, mom?” you say dismissively, leaving your wine glass on the kitchen counter and leaning around your mom to follow Joel upstairs. You can still hear her rambling away behind you, but you ignore her easily. She’ll forgive you. Or she won’t. It doesn’t really matter.

You find him, of all places, in your bedroom. He’s got his back to you, staring at the dresser against the far wall. The only light in the room comes from the moonlight shining through your window.

“Joel?” you ask uncertainly.

“Built this for you when you were just a teenager,” he says, sounding very far away as he runs his hands over the wood of the dresser. “Remember?”

“’Course.”

“I mean I - I watched ya grow up.”

You hear the conflict in his voice, the way he’s warring with himself.

You sigh. You hadn’t meant for this to become such a thing. You cross the room, locking your door behind you, blocking out the noise of the party below. You wrap your arms around him from behind and he doesn’t stop you. Rather, he lets his hands rest on your forearms, holding you there against him.

“We don’t have to overthink any of this, Joel,” you mumble against his back.

“I just - feel like I don’t know where the time went.”

You could understand that.

“You had time, Joel,” you say, and you trust he’ll hear it how you intend it: not an accusation, but reassurance.

You could have had me sooner if you’d only tried. I would have always said yes.

He turns to face you, cupping either side of your face with his firm hands. You see the conflict you heard in his voice all over his face, his brows furrowed, his eyes desperate.

“Listen,” he starts. “What you said out there? I’ve thought about it more’n you know, okay?”

The confession makes your heart soar, his hands on your cheeks igniting a wave of heat under his fingers.

“So what do we do?” you inquire, voice escaping you in a shaky laugh that you can’t contain because it all just feels too crazy to be real. To be so close to Joel, on the precipice of something brand new and vital.

Joel smiles with you, like he can feel it too.

“Whatever we do, there ain’t no going back,” he warns.

“Good,” you reply simply.

He takes a deep breath, his smile fading as his jaw clenches like it had on the back deck.

“Just this once,” he growls. “Just to...say goodbye.”

You can’t help but smile. “That’s all I’m asking.”

It’s a lie, but you don’t care. You can deal with the consequences later. You’re so close.

“Right,” he says, the decision finally seeming to click behind his eyes.

You expect him to say something else but he doesn’t, just sighs gruffly again, that undeniable look of ambivalence still in his eyes. But then he’s fusing his lips with yours again, and very quickly, any trace of doubt seems to melt away.

It’s not like the kiss on the back deck. Now Joel kisses you with certainty, at a careful pace, his hands on your cheeks holding you steady while yours, unable to wait, tentatively travel under the hem of his shirt, feeling your way curiously over the skin of his soft stomach.

He actually groans at the feeling, a sound that makes your head spin, encouraging you to help him shrug his t-shirt off entirely, revealing his smooth chest beneath.

Fuck.

It’s like seeing him for the first time.

Joel ducks down to kiss your neck then, barely giving you a chance to take in the sight of him. He roughly slides the thin straps of your dress off your shoulders as he does, sending tingles down your arms as his fingers graze over your skin.

The fabric of your dress falls to your ankles. You’re not wearing a bra underneath, but you don’t feel self-conscious. You want Joel to see you.

“Fuck me,” Joel snarls breathlessly, pulling back from you enough to look you up and down, standing before him, wearing only your underwear. You think maybe it feels the same for him as it does for you - like he’s seeing for the first time.

“That’s the idea,” you joke because it’s Joel. Your Joel. He’s seeing you practically naked but nothing’s changed, not really.

He groans lowly and like he can’t help himself, leans in to kiss you again, cupping your tits in his big hands as he does. You moan loudly against his mouth at the feeling of his fingers on your sensitive nipples.

Then Joel promptly breaks the kiss to look at you intently.

“None o’that,” he tells you seriously. Your heart skips a beat at the stern edge his voice takes on. “Can’t do this here f’you don’t stay quiet.”

You nod obediently. For good measure, he kisses you again, shutting you up thoroughly as you confidently reach between your bodies to palm his cock through his jeans.

Now it’s Joel who has to bite back a moan as he kisses you, encouraging you to work on undoing his belt buckle and unzip his jeans, giving you better access to dip your hand into his boxers and feel his length properly.

“Shit,” Joel breathes when you wrap your hand around his cock, relishing how hard he is, knowing it’s because of you. You can’t stop yourself, you’ve fantasized about it for too long; you drop to your knees in front of him, pulling his jeans and boxers down with you as you do.

“You don’t have t-,” he protests feebly.

But then you’re stroking his thick cock in wonder and he has to stable himself against the dresser. He throws his head back when you dare to look up at him, experimentally taking the tip of his hard cock into your mouth.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” he hisses as you take more of him, one of his hands finding its way into your hair, holding you firm as you begin to bob on his cock in earnest. “That’s so fucking good, sweetheart.”

You practically beam at the praise, taking note of how it makes arousal boil in your belly and wetness sprout between your legs. But you can’t focus on that, all you can focus on is Joel’s cock hitting the back of your throat over and over, taking up your whole mouth, and the way he’s watching you with unrestrained ecstasy.

You quicken your pace then, showing off for him again, even if it’s a bit sloppy as a result of all the wine you’ve consumed tonight. Joel doesn’t seem to mind, can barely contain the soft moan that falls from his lips when you lick expertly around the tip, taking him all the way down till there are tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. The sound is like music to your ears and you want to finish him, you want to taste him but -

“M’gonna come if you don’t stop, baby,” he chokes, pulling you off him with a hand at the nape of your neck.

“Yeah?” you whisper sanguinely, gazing up at him with wet lips and flushed cheeks. Joel shakes his head.

“Goddamn,” he says under his breath, seemingly to himself, running his thumb tenderly over your cheek.

You make to duck down and take him back in your mouth but again, Joel stops you with that firm hand in your hair again.

“Can’t I fuck you, darlin’?” he implores.

“Yes. Yes.”

Too eager, you don’t care. Joel helps you to your feet and you guide him to your little twin bed with the purple sheets, under the canopy of glow in the dark stars on your ceiling, and the same pillow you’ve slept on since you were eight-years-old.

Joel is going to fuck you. Joel is going to fuck you here.

You sit back on the bed and Joel hovers over you, watching you carefully as he slips his hand down between your legs and under your panties. You have to bite your lip to keep quiet when he inserts one finger inside you, grazing your clit gently with his thumb as he does.

“So wet,” he whispers in amazement, leaning forward to crush his lips to yours again, containing your muffled groan as he adds a second finger.

“This pretty pussy all wet just for me, sweetheart?” he asks against your mouth.

You whimper softly at his words, and you want to say yes, it’s all for you Joel, it always has been, but then he’s pulling back to cover your mouth firmly with his hand, stopping you from making any further noise. He pulls your panties down your thighs so he can fuck you with his fingers properly, piercing them in and out of you at a meticulous rhythm, his thumb never letting up from its place over your clit.

“That feel good, babygirl?” he inquires breathily and you shudder at the new pet name.

Fuck.

You’d cry out if you could, but as it is, you just nod and squirm under his touch as he methodically brings you right to the edge of your orgasm, heat building in your core and threatening to overtake you.

But then he stops. You could weep at the loss of his fingers. Before you can though, he’s got his strong, calloused hands on your hips, maneuvering you to turn over onto all fours so he can line himself up behind you. Without meaning to, you groan in anticipation.

“Quiet now, darlin’,” Joel whispers, voice pleading. “You be good and stay quiet.”

You can only nod against the sheets because Joel is gliding the tip of his cock over your wet cunt then, sending a new wave of pleasure through you.

Then he’s sinking his cock inside you and you both have to fight to stay silent, even as you hear his breath catch when he bottoms out.

He wastes no time, fucking you hard and urgently, like he’s waited for it just as long as you have. You’re distantly aware of him reaching around you to play with your clit, clasping his other hand over your mouth again. And it’s a good thing he does, because his cock is hitting that sweet spot inside you relentlessly and you can feel heat mounting in your centre again.

“Joel,” you mumble under his hand, catching his eye and losing your breath for the millionth time at the sight of his broad form thrusting into you, his strong arms all around you. “I’m -,”

You can’t finish your sentence, and you don’t have to. Joel doesn’t stop it this time.

Even though you can’t make a sound, your body gives you away when you come. You jerk and arch beneath him, cunt tightening around his cock, his soft grunts soundtracking your silent climax.

“Fuck, yes, good girl,” Joel breathes, feeling you come on his cock and then he’s increasing his pace, fucking you vigorously, chasing his own release. It’s all you can do to just lie there and take it, to stay quiet when he grips your arms behind your back, holding you there as he fucks you tenaciously.

You can feel him getting close, his breath going ragged and his thrusts losing rhythm. Then he’s pulling out suddenly, flipping you over again so he’s looking down at you while he strokes himself furiously between your legs. He doesn’t take his eyes off yours until he’s coming across your tummy and your tits, throwing his head back when he does, only the softest of moans escaping his parted lips as he finishes.

It’s everything you’ve ever imagined and more.

“Shit,” Joel laughs lightly when it ends, looking down at the mess he’s made across your torso.

“I think I have an old shirt or something in the dresser,” you offer, grinning right back up at him.

He stumbles off you to pull open the top drawer, rummaging around for something to clean you off with. You watch him carefully, heart beating unevenly and bliss radiating out of every part of you.

It’s electric, it’s magic, it’s -

Shit.

With his back to you, you suddenly see Joel go very still. He looks just like he did when you’d first found him, hovering over the dresser, frozen in time with shoulders tensed, conflict mapping the muscles of his back.

Something deeply uneasy begins to settle in the pit of your stomach.

Joel turns to face you then, and he isn’t laughing anymore. Anxiety takes proper hold of you then, like someone’s just dropped a brick on your abdomen. He wordlessly hands you a t-shirt, your favourite old Spice Girls one, keeping his gaze fixed on the fabric in his hands and very much not on you.

“Thanks,” you mutter, wiping his sticky come off your front, suddenly feeling very exposed.

Joel is already getting dressed, slipping his jeans back on and fishing around in the dark for his shirt. You watch apprehensively as he gets fully clothed, cursing quietly to himself before finally sitting down on the edge of the bed. Your heart drops when he covers his face with his hands.

Fuck fuck fuck.

“I think -,” he starts, dropping his hands to stare at the wall. “I think it’s probably best you don’t tell anyone about this.”

His words knock the wind out of you. Any joy in the moment is lost as you reckon with his words. But worse than that is his demeanor, the way he won’t look at you, how he’s instantly turned cold, without even giving you a chance to catch your fucking breath.

What the fuck had happened?

There ain’t no going back. That’s what he’d said. You think, now, that he might have been right.

“Okay,” you whisper, because you don’t know what else to say.

“Guess I’ll see ya when I see ya, kid,” he grumbles, rising with his hands on his knees, shooting one fleeting, final glance in your direction.

“Okay,” you repeat, rooted in place.

And then, for the second time that night, he’s gone.

Dumbstruck, you remain frozen in place for what feels like hours, replaying the whole thing over and over in your mind, searching back through your memories for answers.

You can hear the bass booming from the sound system downstairs, friends and family chattering away, ignorant to your incessant reeling.

When you can finally move, you rise slowly off the bed with that same sick need to comprehend. You wrap your sheets around you and inspect the drawer Joel just been rifling through. You toss aside the few remaining shirts you hadn’t packed, like they could possibly give you the explanation you’re looking for.

Then you see it. Something you’d long forgotten.

Carved into the wood on the bottom of the drawer, an etching you’d amorously forged into the fibres with a dull pen, some ten-odd years ago now:

A heart, with two letters engraved inside it: JM.

You don’t see him again.

You don’t know what you’d thought would happen, but nothing could have prepared you for this. Of all the things you knew Joel Miller to be, mean wasn’t one of them. Or so you’d thought.

He’d known the extent of your feelings. He’d known.

Hadn’t he known?

The next morning, as you get ready to leave for good, the empty beer bottles littering your dad’s living room look more akin to headstones, a grim reminder of the night before and all you’re leaving behind.

Joel’s absence is palpable as you prepare to pull out of the driveway, your mother, father and sister all there to kiss you goodbye. Even worse that Sarah and Tommy show up, offering some half-baked reason as to why Joel couldn’t be there.

“He said to wish ya, ‘good luck,’” is what Tommy says. It’s a stab to the chest.

The whole thing feels undeniably wrong, any optimism you’d had in the future, tainted with no hope of rectification. Whatever elation you’d felt before, stolen, by the one person who couldn’t even come to say goodbye.

Fuck Joel Miller. Fuck Austin. Fuck all of it.

You drive out of the cul-de-sac as fast as your car can take you, fighting back the lump in your throat and the sickness in your stomach, nothing out ahead of you but twenty hours of highway.

You’re not sure when you’ll be back, but Joel can bet his ass it won’t be before Christmas.

END/to be continued...

Why's your heart grown heavy, boy, when things were feeling light?Turning this June morning into some dark judgment night This ain't the end of nothing much, it's just another round I can't carry you forever, but I can hold you now

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #pre outbreak joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #tlou fanfic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #neighbour joel miller #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #joel miller x f!reader #ahhh ok here it is i hope you guys like it!!!!#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #1k

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jikothemartian-z · 9 months

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This Looney Tunes Macki @vickymcsworld

#marki the martian #batim mrs macki #macki the dice killer #mackenna macki pottingsworth #oatc marky #marky the cockroach #oggy marky #oggy and marky #oggy and the cockroaches #oatc #looney tunes #GNS #Guns N Stilettos #webtoon series

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koocycle · 9 months

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screw up; over wine | drabble i.

synopsis; jungkook wants to make your first date special and unlike any other night you’ve had before. while determined to win your heart over with a fancy, romantic dinner that includes sweet, tasty chardonnay and medium rare steaks, not everything goes according to his plan.

pairing; boyfriend! jungkook x model! female reader

word count; 4.1k

genre; fluff, baby angst probably

warnings; none

timeline; this drabble is set 7 years ago, at the very start of the over wine couple’s relationship where jungkook is a finance major and oc is still active in the modelling industry. they’re both in their early 20s here!

author’s note; a thank you drabble for all the support and encouragement i’ve been receiving the past two weeks!! also a lil drabble for the people who aren’t a fan of angst and still punched through that 38k last chapter :) enjoy this little tidbit of the start their relationship before it all became messy and went downhill

series masterlist | over wine universe

The sound of the lively chatter at the tables surrounding you had gone over your head before. The clinking of cutlery amplifies and bubbles of laughter fill the air the moment Jungkook excuses himself to the bathroom and all of a sudden, you watch yourself become a nerve-wrecking mess, unsure what to do the minute you’re left alone and forced to listen to the couples at the tables on your sides. You can feel their eyes on you, noticing the way they keep glancing at you with some sort of pity in their eyes. The bustling restaurant suddenly feels much more crowded and you can’t help but feel exposed with him now gone, the bill at your table staring back at you like it tells you everything Jungkook didn’t have the balls to say.

It’s only when the waitress comes back a second time around when you finally search your handbag for your card and hand it to her, plastering a smile on your face that is supposed to copy the one you were previously wearing. You could tell she was getting impatient before, her hair tied into a bun so slick, you were sure she was unable to move the brows at her forehead.

She’s been eyeing you and Jungkook ever since you came in and sat down, it was hard not to notice, seeing the way her lips pursed as she tongued the front of her teeth when Jungkook ordered you the most expensive Chardonnay on the menu. And at the end, when he left for the bathroom about five seconds after he read the price at the bottom of the receipt, you could swear you saw a vein pop at her forehead. It was funny back then. Though now that he’s been gone for nearly ten minutes, each and every bit of humor has left your body just like you watched it happen to that woman before. The inkling feeling at your chest enlarges each time somebody locks eyes with you and shares that sorrowful, pitiful smile, and you lose it.

You had a good time tonight, that much you can’t deny, and you refuse to be pitied. Especg not by a bunch of strangers. You know everyone at the restaurant had seen it at this point. Seen the way Jungkook had leaned over the table with crossed arms supporting him while that charming, boyish smile painted his face, resulting in a flush to your cheeks as you tried to hide it and blame it on the wine that must have gotten to your head. You felt luckier than anyone else in the room only half an hour ago, where you thought the dates around you couldn’t compare. Like they couldn’t have gotten better than yours by the end of the night.

Yes, embarrassment fills your chest when the waitress hands you back your card and flashes you a knowing smile. However, you refuse to let it bring you down. Humiliation draws over you as you stand up from your seat and make your way over to the corner Jungkook disappeared behind, each step of your stiletto heels to the restaurant’s floor tiles accentuating the flow of your mini dress against your ass. You know eyes are on you, but you ignore it and keep your head high. If you had driven here yourself, you probably would have let the guy rot in the men’s restroom until they had found him, though for now, you still need him for that twenty-minute ride back home.

And it’s not like you mind paying for tonight’s dinner. As a matter of fact, if Jungkook had simply asked you to cover the bill, you know you would’ve reached out for your wallet without a second thought. He made you feel at ease from the start on; ensuring your beef was cooked to perfection, sitting you down on the booth while he did so on the chair. Even double checking whether or not your glass of Chardonnay was sweet enough to your liking, if you needed another napkin at your neck so you wouldn’t stain that pretty little dress, and if you weren’t getting cold right beneath that airconditioning screwed to the ceiling–ready to run back to the car to get your jack from the backseat.

That’s right, you wouldn’t have minded, because Jungkook has been perfect all night. And no matter how many times you thought to yourself “God damn, you’re having a blast and so is he,” you wouldn’t have minded if at the end of the night he’d be like, “hey, this probably isn’t working out and we should never do this again.” Because, sure, then it is what it is. But at least you’ve got more class than him if you think it’s a shitty thing to hide in the men’s restroom the moment the bill is served instead of growing a pair and telling you exactly that in your face.

‘‘Hyung, please, I need you right now.’’ It is the first thing you hear once you round the corner and you come face to face with his back, his phone is held to his ear and it appears his fingers are pinching the bridge at his nose. ‘‘It’s just that I’m really into this girl, and I can swear she feels the same way. I can’t afford fucking it up now. I promise I’ll pay you back by the end of the month, okay?’’

It stings more than you’d like to admit. You lean against the wall, crossing your arms over your chest as you try to process the situation. Part of you wants to confront him right there, tell him the bill has been taken care of and ask him why he brought you here if he knew he couldn’t even pay for it. He could at least tell you to stay within a reasonable budget, where the wine bottle didn’t have to cost 400 bucks and each additional sauce wouldn’t have to cost another 15 on top.

Would he be scared you’d judge him if he brought you some place else?

‘‘I know, I know,’’ he mumbles into his phone, throwing his head back. ‘‘I didn’t want to bring her somewhere downtown and disappoint her, that’s all. How was I supposed to know the prices were that high if they don’t write it down the menu?’’

You have to bite your lip to hold the laughter from escaping. It’s cute, the way he thinks, because the moment you’d see a menu without its prices mentioned, one thing most people would do is run out the building before they charge you for the lukewarm water that’s already served on the table. You can’t help but find his reasoning cute and endearing, his sincerity shining through and you can tell he truly wanted to make tonight special for you. The fact that he was worried about disappointing you speaks volumes about how much he cares. Although, next time around, you’d find him a little cuter if he were honest with you. You really wouldn’t think much less of him if he asked you to pay the bill.

‘‘Thanks, hyung. So much.’’ He breathes out, and you can only figure the person on the other end of the line is transferring the money to his bank account as you stand there. ‘‘I’m dodging a bullet here.’’

It is only when he hangs up the phone that he turns around, halting in his tracks at the sight of you standing there. With his phone still in hand, Min Yoongi’s contact number still displayed on the screen, his expression changes from shock to worry as he sees you standing there, arms folded over another as you’re leaned up against the wall.

‘‘Hi.’’ You smile.

And you have the prettiest smile. Even though it’s closed lipped and seems a little ironic, he thinks you own the most beautiful smile in the room. ‘‘Hey,’’ he says, his eyes faltering even though he’s quick to cover up. Sauntering over, he places a hand at your hip to guide you the other way, over to the cashier. ‘‘I’m sorry that took so long, you know how moms can be.’’ He snickers quietly, ‘‘you’re already two years into college and she still calls every night to ask if you’ve eaten.’’

You stand there, amused by his poor attempt to brush off the situation, His hand on your hip feels warm, and you find yourself swayed by his touch. ‘‘Oh, I see,’’ You play along, unable to suppress the playful glint in your eyes. ‘‘So it was your mom who kept you on the phone for so long? For a hot minute I thought you were bailing on me back here.’’

Jungkook laughs softly, shaking his head. ‘‘With the way you look tonight? I’d be crazy to.’’ His eyes linger on you, shamelessly sneaking down your figure in a long, exposed glance, appreciating the white mini dress that cuts right beneath your ass, accentuating your every curve. He doesn’t even try to hide the boyish grin that works its way up his lips, the hand at your hip instead traveling to the small of your back.

Your cheeks flush a little at the compliment, and you turn to face him completely, a flat hand to his chest. ‘‘Smooth talker,’’ you tease, head tilting sweetly as a rush of warmth flows through you.

He grins, his eyes sparkling mischievously. ‘‘Just speaking the truth,’’ he replies, loving the way your eyes grow so big the moment he holds you close and you start looking up at him. He is still running his hand at your back in small circles as he subtly pulls you closer to him, loving the way you just let him. ‘‘Let’s take care of the bill and get you home safely. Are we all set?’’

You nod cutely, ‘‘I am,’’ you say, and Jungkook guides you around by the waist, his free hand digging into the back pocket of his dress pants before you interrupt him, intertwining your arm with his as you lead the both of you out the door instead. ‘‘And I already took care of it.’’ You teasingly whisper in his ear, the smile that you wear on your face undeniable.

Jungkook’s grin falters, halting in his tracks once you’re outside. His brows furrowed together, clearly taken aback. ‘‘Wait, you paid?’’ He asks softly, seeming a little deflated even as you stand before him with that pretty smile on your face. He usually can’t resist to bring one out himself when your lips break into one, though it comes a little more difficult this time. ‘‘You know you didn’t have to do that, right? I had everything planned out,’’ his hands come to cup your cheeks. ‘‘It was me who asked you out. That means that I’m supposed to treat you tonight.’’

You can see the sincerity in his eyes, and your heart softens at the genuine concern. It is only for a moment that you consider telling him you overheard his phone call with his roommate, and no matter how comfortable Jungkook made you feel tonight alone, you remember it’s only your first date, and you’d hate for things to get sappy so quickly. ‘‘Well, you basically left me all alone with that piece of paper. How could I control myself?’’ It’s supposed to be a lighthearted joke, he can see it in the way you smile at him, but he can’t help but think there’s some truth to it. ‘‘Come on, bring me home,’’ even with the heels you’re wearing, you have to stand on your tippy toes to plant a kiss on his cheek. ‘‘These heels aren’t doing me justice anymore.’’

Jungkook chuckles softly, the tension not yet easing between you even as you drag him to the car by intertwining your hands together. As he opens the door for you to get in, he can’t help but feel like he’s somehow failed today’s date. Looking back at how it must’ve looked like when he ran off to call Min Yoongi for help like he’s still in highschool with a silly little school crush, he feels a pang of embarrassment at the thought of appearing so immature and unprepared in front of you. He wanted everything to be perfect, bring you someplace nice to impress you and show you he could treat you well. Instead, he just looks like a little boy who tried to trick you into paying for the first date.

Even as Jungkook is seated in the drivers’ seat and takes the route back to your home, he turns up the volume of the radio, hoping to drown out the disappointment in himself. He definitely screwed up tonight. He doesn’t even know if he wants you to say something to him; he just knows that you don’t, but the glances you keep sneaking his way for the entire ride back home are enough to make him feel even worse. You can see that something is bothering him, that his playful, flirtatious vibe from before has shifted and is now replaced with something you can’t decipher.

You start to wonder if it’s something you said. Wonder if he’s now getting cold feet and suddenly realizes maybe he didn’t enjoy himself as much as you thought. He hadn’t given you any reason to think like that, though. Not after how sweet he was tonight, not after the way you heard him talk about you over the phone with his friend.

As the car pulls up in front of your place, Jungkook turns off the engine, the radio cutting off as the silence envelopes both of you again. The clicking sound of your seatbelt comes fast and you glance over at him again, finding him already looking at you with a smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

He gets out and walks you to the door after that, his hands hidden in the pockets of his pants as he doesn’t care to spare you another glance. The shift in energy is obvious between the both of you, not a single soul out on the street at this hour of the day to distract you from the uneasy silence. Your stiletto heels click against the pavement and you have to bite your bottom lip to make the short but uncomfortable way back a little more bearable.

At the end of a date comes a kiss. It’s how it happens in all the romcoms you watch–it happens in all the chick flicks and all the Disney short movies. But this is no Stephanie Perkins love story, not with the way you’re standing there, hugging your arms as the chilly breeze crosses your skin.

‘‘I guess this is where we split ways, right?’’ You finally break the silence, your voice tinged with uncertainty. You don’t want the night to end on such an awkward note, but the tension between you is undeniable.

Jungkook’s gaze softens, and he takes a step closer to you, the distance between your bodies diminishing. ‘‘I had a great time tonight,’’ he admits, his voice gentle as he reaches to unfold your arms, fingertips grazing over them before they get to your soft hands and intertwines them with his own. ‘‘And I really want to see you again,’’ he says quietly, thumbs rubbing over your knuckles. ‘‘You know, if that’s okay with you.’’

You have to tongue the front of your teeth in an attempt to hide that broad smile that’s tugging at the edges of your lips. ‘‘Yeah, I’d like that.’’ You say, and you can feel your heart race against your chest only with the way he’s looking down at you.

‘‘And I’ll be transferring the money right back to your account first thing back home, alright?’’

‘‘Oh,’’ you raise an eyebrow in surprise, not expecting him to bring up the topic of money again. ‘‘Really, that’s okay. I don’t mind having to spend a little. And it doesn’t really matter in the end, does it? We enjoyed ourselves tonight, and that’s probably what’s most important.’’

‘‘It is what’s most important,’’ he agrees with a boyish smile, heavy lidded eyes staring back at you. ‘‘But it was me who asked you to join me for dinner. Therefore it was my responsibility to treat you, you know? To make sure you had a good time, and to guarantee the bill was taken care of and nowhere within your reach.’’ Jungkook says, one hand held against his chest as he tilts his head in the most charming way you can think of. ‘‘That was my mistake. But I won’t be able to go to bed with a good feeling knowing you paid for all that. We didn’t dine at McDonald’s, you know?’’

You can’t help but let out a soft chuckle at his playful reference, because he’s right. There was a lot more on that receipt than two cheeseburgers and fries on the side. Jungkook took you out to wine and dine; told you beforehand to wear the prettiest dress you own and he spared no expense to make sure the evening was special. It was clear he wanted to impress you, even if you hadn’t overheard his phone call.

Your hands caress his chest until they reach to play with the collar of his blouse, as if to fix it. ‘‘Then maybe it’s time we pick out some place that’s a little more affordable, don’t you think?’’ You’re not nagging at him, your voice is gentle, indirectly telling him he doesn’t need to spend money on you that he doesn’t have. ‘‘You know I’d be fine with a pizza and a soda, right?’’

The feeling of your fingertips tickling at his neck makes him bite his lip, your arms leaning on his broad shoulders for support. ‘‘You know I can’t take you out for pizza.’’

You smile, enjoying the closeness between you when his own hands fall to your hips. Tugging you closer, just slightly. ‘‘Why not?’’ You tease, unable to keep that toothy smile off your face. ‘‘I bet we could have just as much fun sharing a pizza as we did tonight.’’

‘‘We would,’’ Jungkook’s eyes meet yours, and he looks a little torn. ‘‘But you’re special,’’ his lips curl into a small smile when the words leave him, watching as you throw your head back a little in surprise, the warmth rising to your cheeks not gone unnoticed. ‘‘And I don’t know… it’s probably just something you do, but you make me want to give you all the things you’ve never been given before, all right?’’

He’s speaking from the heart, and the longer he looks into those eyes of yours, the more this lovestruck feeling intensifies in the deepest pits of his chest. Because it’s true; Jeon Jungkook is smitten. You pick up his FaceTime calls in the middle of the night wearing silken, champagne pink Chanel pajamas, you carry your Miss Dior perfumes in the side pockets of your Armani handbags and your agent takes you out to fine dinings at least once a month–you’re handed all those luxury items by all sorts of brands trying to get a sponsor out of you because, they as well, know you’re something else. Something big.

You stand before him in a dress he doesn’t even want to know the price of, and instead just wants to admire you. How was he ever going to step up his game and give you things you haven’t seen before? Sure, perhaps Jungkook was a little starstruck the moment the price at the end of the bill caught his eye, but when it came to you, it was worth it. He doesn’t make that kind of money yet, but he will, and when he receives his degree and finally does that, then yes, he wants to spoil you rotten. You deserve it all.

Your heart skips a beat at his words, touched by his genuine sentiment. ‘‘Jungkook,’’ you begin softly, your voice tinged with emotion. ‘‘I had a blast tonight, I really did, and I appreciate you so much for the effort you put in the entire evening. But I really hope you didn’t do all of this with the idea I would like you any less if it indeed was just a burger and some fries from McDonald’s.’’

Jungkook’s eyes soften. ‘‘No, that’s not it at all,’’ he assures you, his voice gentle and sincere. ‘‘I wanted to show you a good time, to make you smile.’’

‘‘I smiled all the way to the end of the night,’’ you sing-song, leaning into his touch when you cup his cheeks. ‘‘So no S.O.S phone calls with Min Yoongi at the end of our next date night?’’

He blinks slowly, shifting his gaze downward as a nervous chuckle escapes his lips. ‘‘You overheard my phone call,’’ you watch as the embarrassment overtakes him and you think it’s rather cute how he tries to hide his face from you, the sight of your feet suddenly so much more interesting. ‘‘Isn’t that great.’’ He mumbles, wincing on the inside.

‘‘I did. And there’s nothing to be embarrassed of.’’ You tilt his head back up, forcing him to lock eyes. ‘‘I actually think it’s kind of cute you wanted to impress me. Am I really that intimidating?’’

Jungkook’s cheeks warm, and he can’t help but let out a laugh at your teasing. His thumbs start caressing the material at the small of your back, leaving you a little weak in the knees. ‘‘Intimidating isn’t the right word,’’ he admits, pursing his lips like he’s thinking hard. ‘‘I’d say you’re frightening. And not in a good way, either. Rather like one of those Disney villains that would keep you awake as a kid, you know?’’ He smirks cutely, playfully nudging at your side and causing you to squirm at his arms. ‘‘Ursula or something. You look just like her, the big eyes and the crazy hair and all.’’

‘‘Do I now?’’ You arch a single brow, amusement crippling at your lips.

He hums, tugging you close to him until your bodies are pressed together and you can feel his warmth radiating through his clothes. ‘‘Like two beads of water.’’ He says a little softer now, his breath fanning against your lips as he reaches out to gently brush a loose strand of hair away from your face.

The space between you seems to shrink, the world around you fading into oblivion the more you’re drawn into him. ‘‘You wouldn’t look at me as if you want to kiss me if that were true.’’

Jungkook’s breath catches at your words, and he can’t deny the truth in them. The teasing glint in your eyes sends a jolt of excitement through him, making him want to prove you wrong. His fingers gently trail along your jawline, a feather-light touch that sends shivers down your spine.

‘‘Oh, really?’’ He retorts playfully, his voice low and husky. ‘‘And what if I do want to kiss you?’’ His gaze intensifies, holding you captive as he leans closer, his lips almost brushing against yours. The air cackles with anticipation, and time seems to slow down as the world around you fades away.

Your heart pounds in your chest, matching the rhythm of his as he hovers so close. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, and it sends a rush of desire through you. Your fingers instinctively find their way to his chest, the anticipation building between you both.

‘‘Do it and find out.’’

He doesn’t hesitate. You’ve given him the green light and with a surge of boldness running through him, he closes the distance between you, and his lips capture yours in a tender, passionate kiss. It’s a perfect collision of desire, a moment that feels like it was meant to be.

You place a hand to his chest, able to feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. With your fingers slightly curling at the nape of his neck, arm leaning on his shoulder, you dare to pull him closer to you as he copies your body language not much longer after. He pulls you by the small of your back to make sure it curves and you’re pressed chest to chest. Your breaths mingle, lips eagerly brushing against each other as the kiss deepens and you feel a tingling warmth spreading through your body. His touch is tender and possessive, as if he doesn’t want to let you go. Your other hand finds its way to his cheek, caressing it with a soft, adoring touch. It’s a silent reassurance that this is right, that you want this as much as he does.

Time seems to lose all meaning when his lips lingers on yours, it seems like. You’re lost in him, just like how he is lost in you. And when you eventually pull away, your foreheads rest against each other, you both share a soft, contented sigh. Your eyes meet, and a knowing smile passes between you.

‘‘Let’s save the rest for our second date, yeah?’’

Your heart is still racing, and his touch leaves your body feeling electric. You can see the desire in his eyes as gazes down at you, and with a gentle caress at his cheek, you nod in agreement, a playful glint in your eyes.

‘‘Definitely,’’ you whisper, your voice breathless.

As you part ways, you fumble with your keys at the door as Jungkook makes his way back to his car. A sense of contentment washes over you, knowing you’ve found someone who makes your heart race and your soul soar.

And as you steal a glance from over your shoulder only one last time for tonight, you find him doing the same thing at the exact same moment. Your eyes meet, and you cutely avert your eyes back forward the moment it happens, missing the way he bites his bottom lip to hold back a cheeky grin, shaking his head in amusement.

You’re truly one of a kind.

#jungkook drabble #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook #jeon jungkook #BTS jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts #bts fic

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cursingtoji · 7 months

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ᥫ᭡ — EXECUTIVE AFFAIRS: In a cutthroat world of boardroom battles and power struggles, you must navigate ambition , corporate intrigue, and unexpected love affairs.

✧ PRELUDE

— contents: CEO!reader, construction worker!Toji, lawyer!Nanami, therapist!Geto, ex-husband!Gojo; power imbalance, sexual frustration, manipulation, use of 'darling', 'baby', 'dear' & 'boss', 4k words, on-going series

— note: osha is the occupational safety and health administration agency in the USA, even tho i'm not american seems easier to just say osha (also a fun word to pronunce)

A young man opens the rear door of the Jaguar as soon as your driver stops by the construction site, “This way ma’am” you accept his hand, touching the cement with your stiletto first before getting out of the vehicle.

As scheduled you are heading to a meeting with the architect responsible for this particular project, a big one. Normally the CEO wouldn’t be involved in such routine visits like this, but you definitely don’t want to be like the previous CEO, who barely stepped out of his office for anything.

Besides, you have to make a good impression with the other directors that would be there today as well, and what better way to do that if not going to the construction site yourself, even though you clearly do not belong there given the way your heel wobbled as soon as it touched the uneven ground.

“Excuse me, miss” you’re stopped by a man twice your size — horizontally and almost vertically — extending a white helmet in your direction, “I’m sure that hair costed a lot and you don’t wanna cover it, but every person on site, even the ladies, ‘gotta wear it.”

You stand a bit shocked at the man addressing you like it’s not your last name on his uniform.

“Mr. Fushiguro, I should inform you that it’s your CEO you’re talking to” the boy beside you speaks up, he’s wearing a white helmet and the unknown man a yellow one.

“Great, so you are able to afford the OSHA fine if they decide today is a good day for inspection, but I’d rather not have another pointless safety training just ‘cause no one had the balls to tell you to protect your pretty ‘lil head” his expression doesn’t change a bit with the new information. You find that respectable, especially having so many people stuttering when talking to you.

If you were to say that you don’t get even a little bit amused by people being nervous in your presence Nanami would have to warn you about perjury.

It’s quite a change to have a blue collar employee sticking to the rules and not batting an eye when the highest possible authority of the company is standing right in front of him, especially when that someone looks like he just got out of a sexy construction men calendar… not that you have ever seen one of those. That’s just what you think they might look like, plus that scar only adds up to fantasy.

You clean your throat, “I appreciate your work ethic, Mr. Fushiguro” you repeat the name so you won’t forget, “I wasn’t aware of the rules” you side-look the young man beside you who’s now staring at his own feet embarrassed since it was his duty to inform you.

“Call me Toji” you take the helmet and put it on, “By the way, you’re supposed to wear trousers too and… literally anything but that” he points with his chin to your high heels thinking how that alone was a safety hazard not just on a construction site. Toji leans closer “but I’ll let it slide, ‘cause you have quite beautiful legs.”

You are left mouth agape, internally appreciating that he didn’t say that out loud — after all being sexualized when you are trying to impose respect would require you to put a show and fire the man — but also makes you question if he was straight forward with you because of his work ethics or because he does not respect you as his superior.

Not that you wouldn’t let him do disrespectful things to you, but still!

You’re taken to where the rest of the directors are, they’re easy to spot — a bunch of men in suits that clearly don’t belong to the place — surrounding a table with the blue prints. They greet you and you realize this is the first time you see all of them around a table and not sitting, poor guys must be dying for a room with AC right now.

It’s not like you belonged there either, with your tailor made beige suit that had a pencil skirt instead of the newly-discovered-necessary trousers and how-the-fuck-you-thought-that-was-a-good-idea high heels. But in your own defense you did visit a lot of construction sites when you first started at the company all those years ago and that’s much more than the white collar men in front of you can say.

The main architect starts to give you all an status of the project being interrupted by the senior engineer every few minutes, the last one clearly thinking he’s better than the first even though neither of them lifts a finger in this ground.

Your sight is drawn to the man that scolded you before, while the architect is pointing to something on top of the construction and everyone else is shielding their eyes from the sun to find it, you’re looking straight ahead to Toji who’s currently lifting an apparently very heavy sack of cement on his shoulder and taking it all across the site. God, he’s strong.

His handsome face shines with sweat, you’re sure the wife beater he has on also violates some OSHA code, but who would be crazy enough to report that? Not you for sure, the view is worth the OSHA fine.

Especially when he drops the sack with a grunt and uses the shirt to wipe his face, revealing a torso you’re sure Michelangelo would die to use as inspiration to sculpt into marble then having people saying ‘whoa that’s real art’.

You wonder if someone would scream at you for touching that piece of art.

Unfortunately you don’t expect to get caught ogling by the subject himself. So the best thing you can do is find whatever the architect is pointing to and pretend to pay attention like you should have from the beginning instead of eye fucking one of your employees.

“Hey, boss” you hear on your way out of the site and back to your cozy office where you wouldn’t get your ankle broken that easily. You turn around and see Toji catwalking his way to you.

“Technically I'm out of the hazard zone, mr. Fushiguro” you justify your lack of a helmet which you ditched a few seconds ago.

“Toji” he corrects you, taking his own helmet off “and I’m not this uptight, unlike some people here today” he mutters the last part looking behind him to some of the directors that seemed to be looking for tiny errors on the project so they could fix it and justify being there.

“Well, what can I do for you?”

“I’m pretty sure you're being robbed.”

“What?” you look around, “What do you mean?”

“You’re paying for double the stuff that’s actually being delivered” he took a sheet of folded paper out of his pants, you reach for it but he pulls it back, “I have proof and I can say names.”

“Did you say that to your field supervisor?”

“Please, who do ya think it’s signin’ under this?” he rolls his eyes.

“So you came to the CEO instead? You’re going behind some big backs here, sir.”

“Look, miss, I want a promotion, I know a lot of big shots will go down for this and I’m the only one capable of handling the people here. Besides I stand by what I said before, no one has the guts to do this so I’m taking a big risk and I deserve compensation” he hands back the paper and this time he let you take it. You stare into his deep green eyes suspiciously, the man has the looks of a fantasy villain with his sharp features and dark eyelashes, you're not entirely sure if you should believe him.

“Give your number to my assistant, we’ll schedule a meeting in the office, you tell me everything you know and I see what I can do about it.”

“In the office? Didn’t know you allowed commonores in your castle” he smirks.

“Only the pretty ones” you wink and his smile grows wider.

“How long have you known about this?” Nanami questions.

“Not even 24 hours” you sit on your white couch signing for him to take the seat in front of you.

Your lawyer does that thing you find really hot where he unbuttons the coat of his five digit worth suit before sitting down. You admire Nanami’s elegance while he roams his eyes through the paper, he has a vest between the coat and the dress shirt. Navy blue suits him so well, matches his eyes. He makes you think every man should wear vests, but of course not every man can pull it off. Honestly, you find it hard to believe there's anything Nanami can’t pull off, but you haven't seen your lawyer without a suit… ever.

Maybe he looks bad with a plain T-shirt?

No way.

Perhaps with an overall and cowboy hat?

Mmm the image makes you wanna ride something.

What about emo hair, eyeliner and a band tee?

No, you can’t imagine Kento with emo hair, no chance he had a rebellious phase except if his parents wanted him to be a surgeon and he became the best lawyer in the city just to piss them off.

“I’m glad you came to me first, but we’ll need to involve auditing and probably internal affairs. That’ll probably put the project on hold for some weeks, also I’ll need more evidence than this” he shook the one paper sheet that was merely a quotation of supplies even you could understand is way too much for a single building.

“I got the guy for that, say the word and Yuuta will arrange a meeting” you pointed to your assistant sitting outside.

“Tell me, dear” he put the sheet aside, taking that posture that intimidated you a bit, “A blue collar worker just saw your pretty self on the site and handed criminal evidence? Just like that?”

You open your mouth, thinking what to say that won’t sound like you are being taken advantage of, and failing.

“Oh darling” he says a bit too condescendingly for someone that technically works for you, “Thought I told you about being too naive” he leans on the couch, making himself comfortable like you’re about to have The Talk.

“Kento, is not like that” you cross your arms defensively, “He said he wants a promotion, how risky that would be?”

“Thought you would say that” he takes his phone and hands it to you, “So I did my own little research.”

“What’s this?” you find yourself looking at a picture of the man you met yesterday.

Only now you could see tiny numbers behind him indicating his height and he held a plaque with his name. He looks way younger, still very handsome, you wonder how popular he used to be in his youth, with a face like that and the implication he was arrested was enough to make every girl’s bad-boy-dream come true.

“What was he accused of?” you ask out of curiosity.

“Not relevant, also sealed records” he breaks eye contact and that’s enough for you to understand he actually knows it and he did not get this information by any legal means.

“So what? The man got a bit of trouble with the law when he was young” you shrug, remembering even your ex husband had a little rich boy “criminal” file, if you can even call the dumb shit he did outta spite for his parents an actual crime.

“HR will find out about this, then you’re going to have to justify why you’re recommending a filled man for a managing position.”

“And I’ll tell them he actually found out about a theft scheme and whatever public-pissing crime he did will surely be overlooked.”

“Darling, you have to start thinking about your image, we’ve been through that before” he tilts his head.

“You don’t like my image?” you question playfully twirling your hair, Nanami smiles for a brief second.

“You know what I mean: your image towards the board, you barely made the votes necessary to be where you are today.”

Indeed, you owned the company and no one could take that away, but the CEO position needed to be voted and you only got the necessary votes because your ex-husband had the strongest voting rights and part of the divorce agreement was that he voted for you, so his, plus a few more other members of the board's votes and you made chief executive officer.

“Fine, then write a contract, he tells everything including testify if he has to in exchange of the supervisor position and I’ll pitch it to the board before any decisions are made” you uncross your arms raising from your seat.

Bringing the board into the conversation made you nervous, most of them don't like you and you’ve been trying to prove yourself for months. Even though you worked your ass off way before marrying the owner all they saw was a hurt ex-wife making pretend.

“Atta girl” Nanami raises too, buttoning his coat back and placing his hands on your tense shoulders. Nanami smells like what you think it should be every handsome lawyer's trademark scent, cause damn that smell would make you sign anything he gives you.

“Don’t worry much, you’re doing great” he presses a bit and you melt.

“Take me out to lunch?” you pout.

“I would love to” he lets go of your shoulder, “Unfortunately I have a hearing, but I'll be back for that meeting soon, okay?”

You sigh in defeat, getting even a few minutes of Nanami’s time for yourself is as hard as it can get, only a corruption scheme to get him to come to your office in such short notice.

“Ma’am” Yuuta says from the speakerphone, “Your ex-husband is calling” you groan, throwing your head back.

Of course he would want to interrupt your moment with Nanami.

“I can get you a restriction order” your lawyer offers jokily (or not).

Aside from being the company's lawyer, Nanami Kento was also your divorce attorney, which you managed to get only after agreeing to give him your company's account if he managed to land you the CEO position. Like everything in this merciless corporate world, it was give and take, you got what you wanted – not surprisingly so, afterall Nanami, even though is not a divorce specialist, is the best. Still, you like to think of him being more than another contractor of yours.

“I appreciate the offering” you smile tiredly, Nanami kisses your hand like the gentleman he is before leaving your office, “Yuuta, I’ll take him– it. I’ll take the call” you sit back behind your desk massaging your temple “Put him through.”

“Hello, beautiful” he greets over the speakerphone in that always so cheerful tone.

“Satoru, what do you want?”

“No chit-chat? It’s the least you could do for me after I gave you the company” entitled as always…

“You didn’t give it to me, you gave it up for the rest of your assets” you remind, already sick of this same discussion over and over.

When the divorce was officially on the table you told Kento exactly what you wanted: the company. The one thing you knew your ex husband would hate to lose, but also didn’t love as much as his lifestyle – which would be brutally affected if you decided to go for the 50% you were entitled to.

So through a carefully written agreement you accepted way less than you were owed in the form of full ownership of the respected construction company and title of chief executive officer.

“Six of one, half a dozen of the other. How have you been?”

“Fine. Just tell me what you want, I actually take this job seriously and have important things to do.”

Oh god, he would tease you so bad if he knew about the corruption scheme, and the worst part is that, eventually, he will know. Gojo has ears everywhere around here.

“Nanami” he says simply. You start to look around your office, wondering if he has cameras there.

“You… want… Nanami?”

“Yes, beautiful” he confirms slowly like he's talking to a kid that has just learned the alphabet.

“Why? You know what? Nevermind, I don't want to know. No, you can’t have him” you lean on your chair, denying Gojo gives you great satisfaction.

“It’s not for any bullshit reason, alright?”

“I don’t care, Satoru. Besides, I don’t own Kento, you can approach him anytime” you smile knowing he would never be able to do that without you.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart?” condescension drips from your phone and onto your desk, “He won’t represent me even if I run for president.”

“So you need legal representation? You’re not calling me from jail, are you Satoru?” you mirror his condescending tone, surely he can hear the smile in your voice.

“Thought you didn't care, or would you bail me out? Oh wait, I forgot, you don’t have the money for that” he laughs, arguing was never a thing with him, he would mock you and find a way to make you doubt your accusations. Gaslighting is it? “I’ll give it a shot, just so you know, but this is a great opportunity for you to ask something in return.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

“Think about it, baby, I’m sure there's plenty of things I can do for you” his tone is lower, more seductive.

“Doubt it” you roll your eyes hearing his chuckle.

“Yeah? When was the last time you had–”

You hang up.

Then sigh loudly and press the button to talk to Yuuta.

“Yes, ma’am?” you scrunch your nose, still not used to being called that, Nanami said you should let your sweet assistant call you ma'am or madam at least in front of others since you could use the recognition of your authority.

“Please put Geto on the line.”

“Certainly” you wait, stepping out of your heels and digging your toes on the fluff carpet under the table.

“Hi, doc” you salute your psychologist.

“Sugar, I told you there’s no need to address me like that, hurts my feelings” his honeyed voice is everything you need to hear in such stressful times.

“It does? Maybe you should see a therapist to talk about that, I have a great recommendation” you can’t help but smile like a little girl when talking to him, being playful is a way to cope with your harmless crush.

“Just great?”

“He’s the best, I can assure you” he laughs, “Do you have a few minutes?”

“For you, absolutely” your face warms up then you remember the subject of the call and cools down again.

“It’s Satoru.”

‘It’s always Satoru’ Geto thinks.

“He just called wanting something, I told him no and he made that same old joke about me not having money” you huffed.

“And how do you feel about that?”

“Helpless? I don't know, he must think I’m poor now or something” which is ridiculous, you’re not nearly close to his patrimony as you used to when you were married but what you have is still fuckload more than what it takes to be considered poor.

“He’s trying to remind you of what you lost when you left him, this is just another manipulation technique, my love. Don’t let him get in your head” you need this as a mantra to hear every time your ex-husband calls, “Did he bring up sex this time?”

“No, but he was about to.”

“And what did you say?”

“Hanged up” you hear him snorting.

“Well, that can work on the phone, but what if you were talking face to face? What would you have done?”

Geto knows a lot about you. Obviously since you pay him to listen while you ramble and complain. Still, feels overwhelming having someone recalling your previous actions, especially the ones you're not exactly proud of.

“Tell him to shut up, throw a stapler on him, call security, threaten him with a restriction order.”

“Would you really?” Geto likes to take a joke you make and dig on that.

“Well, probably not the last two…”

“Have you been looking up restriction orders?”

“No, that was a joke my lawyer made early. A restriction order would be too… bureaucratic? Also unnecessary, afterall Satoru he never physically hurt me or threatened to.”

“That would be a good way of making him leave you alone for a while since you're not able to fully detach from him” you sat up.

“That's not true! I’ve been doing everything by myself lately, don't even have time to think about him! I’m detached, doc.”

“Wanna know what I think you would have done if he made that sexual comment face to face with you?” you gulp and Geto takes your silence as consent to continue, “I think you would let him go forward with it.”

You make an offended sound but don't fight his statement, “And what would happen next?” he tones the question like a professor trying to make the class complete a sentence, you keep your head down and mouth shut, “You would’ve let him sweet talk you into sleeping with him again.”

“You don't know that” you murmur.

“It’s a pattern, love. This is how abusive husbands keep their wives from leaving them or even telling anyone about the abuse. They use sex to make them think how good it is to be with them despite everything else.”

“Satoru was not abusive.” you defend your ex-husband firmly, “And I already left him!” you defend yourself less firmly.

“And he still thinks he can have you back! You know why?”

“Because I’m a catch that he shouldn’t have cheated?” Geto stays quiet for a few seconds and you feel a lump in your throat forming. The comment was supposed to sound more like a joke but you're still too hurt for that , clearly.

“That as well, but you really think he regrets it?”

“He seemed pretty sorry in the divorce mediation” you murmur recalling his lost-puppy expression.

“The meeting where he signed a paper that would make him lose his company and his wife? Gee I wonder why” the little sarcastic remark made you smile and shake your head, your psychologist using sarcasm against you is quite funny, “My point is, if you really want to be independent from him you ‘gotta stop letting yourself be attracted back like a magnet” you let his words sink in hearing some papers being ruffled on his side.

“I’m giving you homework.”

“Oh no…”

“Find your sexuality by yourself, you can watch porn, masturbate or even better: have sex with someone. Anyone but Satoru, because right now that’s what he’s using to control you.”

“Geto, I don’t know about this. Porn is too gross, masturbation is too ineffective and sex is too…” you trail off.

“Vulnerable?” he completes.

“I guess…”

“It’s been a few months since you last slept with Satoru, right? What’re you feeling?”

“What do you mean?” you rub your face.

“You know what I mean” he's strict and you let out a long sigh.

“I feel frustrated, sometimes stressed and distracted” all caused by the men you have to deal with including the handsome psychologist putting some sense in you. Not exactly what you wanted him to put in, but oh well…

“Exactly, in your current state it’s only a matter of time until you end up on his bed. You gotta decide if you are willing to: find porn that is not gross, masturbate more effectively or let yourself relax and be vulnerable.”

Is easy to like Geto Suguru, he’s handsome, has a sweet voice, he listens without interrupting (manterrupting is a big no-no for this job thankfully). Though sometimes it’s easy to hate him too, you have to remember he's saying what you need to hear not what you want to, even if your ears could use some tickling from time to time.

“Still with me?” he asks after you remain quiet.

“Yes, doc” he says your name in a warning tone, “Sorry, Suguru.”

“All good for our appointment next week?”

“Hm” your thoughts go to the newly found out corruption scheme that will need your attention the following days, “I’ll ask Yuuta to confirm with your secretary alright?”

“Whatever works best for you, love.”

“Bye, Suguru.”

“Don’t forget your homework.”

🏷️ @rinntvrou @sakurasimppp @sad-darksoul — to be tagged in future works of this series please comment “@ me” in this post.

note: i’m not sure if tickle the ears is a known term worldwide but means “saying or suggesting things to please even if untrue”. also i have some big plans for kinktober so next chapter might take a little while to be posted, let me know your thoughts <3

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #gojo x reader #toji x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk series #jjk x you

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iheartgracie · 29 days

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taylornick quotes from i knew you were trouble by lauren layne part 2

“She blew out a breath, then took a sip of her drink. “I hate you.”

He smiled, because they both knew she didn’t. ”

“Trust me on this, Carr. Some of the best things in life are the unplanned ones.”

“Like new roommates?” she asked sarcastically.

“Don’t sound so skeptical. Ask yourself this: Whose bar did you walk into tonight?” he said, straightening and giving her a wink. “Then ask yourself why.”

“We should get you an apron.”

“We should not get me an apron,” he said, handing her a glass.”

“You think I want you, and you’re damn right. I want you badly.”

“He dunked a spoon into the sauce and held it out for her to taste.

“I really do hate you,” she muttered, leaning forward to sip the delicious sauce directly from the spoon.

Nick only grinned.”

“she’d taken to entering his room without knocking, oftentimes plopping on his bed and fiddling on her phone until he finished whatever scene he was working on and turned to see what she wanted.”

“In response, she leaned over and kissed his cheek.

Nick gave her a startled look, and then was even more surprised to see Taylor Carr blushing—not an everyday occurrence.”

“She liked him.

Somehow the guy who’d gone from being the one person she couldn’t stand had become the one she most looked forward to seeing each day”

“Before she could chicken out, Taylor crossed to his bed and, uninvited, slipped beneath the covers.

“Really?” he muttered as she cuddled closer, resting her cheek on his chest, her arm curling around his waist.

She braced herself for him to pull away, kick her out. She wouldn’t blame him if he did.

Instead, after a moment of stillness, he moved his hand to the back of her head, and his fingers began idly playing with a strand of her hair.”

“It freed me up to pursue the most interesting woman I’d ever met, but . . .”

“I was with Bradley,” she finished for him.

“Never said I was talking about you,” he teased.”

#lauren layne #lauren layne series #laurenlayne #lauren layne books #slas #sexlove&stiletto #taylornick

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madelynraemunson · 2 months

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CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club series)

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ MDNI

Chapter 020: ‘Red Thong, Party’s On!’ (Epilogue)

a/n: pov you’re back at hellfire, but this time you’re sharing the stage with eddie, stripping while he plays a song for you to dance to 🤭🤭♥️ (SURPRISE AT THE END) it’s been a WILD ride my loves, thank you all so much for the support for CMWYW. i hope we all continue to create more beautiful things together. readers, writers, artists, creatives of all kinds keep the world going round. 🤟🏼💋 all my love, maddy

MESS WITH HER? SHE’LL FUCK YOU UP

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014** , 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020*

CW: strip club behaviors hehe, grinding, pole-dancing, ass-shaking, all that hellfire goodness, implications that shy girl c*me on eddie's guitar

word count: 990 words

♡

Mom always used to say, "Inside of you, there are two wolves: a good one and a bad one. Depending on which mouth you feed, one will triumph the other.”

She left out one thing, however: sometimes being bad feels so fucking good.

“We’ve got a verrry special treat for you tonight folks!” the DJ announces. “She took a break for a little while but now she is BACK… and here to stay with us, FOREVER! Put your hands together for the ONE, the ONLY — Hellfire’s Princess — SHYYY GIIIIRL!”

And the crowd goes wild.

You emerge from the side stage in your glimmering scarlet set, flipping your plump, bouncy locks around as you dip your hips to the beat. Your regular customers swoon as you blow them kisses, and the petty kisses you issue to the Hellfire Girls (they came to pick up their severance checks) leave them shaking in their stilettos.

"WOOO, HARGROVE!" Nancy cheers for you backstage, dancing to the song as she curls Nina's hair.

"LET 'EM KNOW, BABY!" Nina shouts after her.

You acknowledge them with a wink, giving one to Chrissy as well as she cheers for you on the opposite side of the stage, bouncing up and down in her sexy Hellfire cheer uniform.

“Let’s go, Shy Girl!” ‘Cherry’ cheers as she waves her pom-poms in the air. "LET'S GOOOO!"

She's hot! Can’t stop! Up on stage doing shots!

You shake your ass when the song calls on it, grinding your hips to the beat to match the lyrics as they come. The crowd hoots and hollers as you dance, showering you in dollar bills as you make the pole your bitch for the night.

“YEAAAH!” Max cheers. “That’s my sister!”

As you glide down the cylindrical silver steel, you wave to the crowd and thank them all for coming out.

“Thank you! Aww, thanks so much! OMG, how are you? Long time no see!”

But just because you’re doing your thing on stage doesn’t mean you aren’t paying attention to the happenings beneath you. Because while you have a bird’s eye view of Vecna’s Lair, you can’t help but fix your gaze on Lucas, who is dressed rather sharper than usual tonight, going up to Maxine in attempts to ‘rizz her up’.

“I see spiciness runs in the family,” Lucas remarks to her as they stand beside each other in Vecna’s Lair.

The self-proclaimed 'Dark Chocolate' shoots her an awkward wink, to which Max responds with a grimace on her face.

“Genetics wasn’t playing ‘bout y’all,” Lucas continues. "You're looking mighty fine tonight, Max."

“Thanks. I guess,” Max shrugs, refusing to entertain it. “But, if you knew anything about family dynamics and DNA, you’d know she’s my step-sister."

"Psh," Lucas scoffs. "Yeah! Yeah, I knew that."

"Course you did," she jeers. "Stalker."

“Stalker?! I thought we were friends.”

Max rolls her eyes. “Whatever this is, is far from platonic.”

She begins to strut away, giving Lucas the opportunity to race after her. And Sinclair wastes no time, pushing himself past the sea of sweaty men to catch up to the beautiful redhead in front of him.

“So there’s a chance we can be more than friends?!”

You chuckle as you watch it unfold from the stage. Then you turn to everyone else.

Argyle and Jonathan give you two stoned-filled waves hello. You wave back. Henry whose the designated bone-snapper bouncer tonight blows you a kiss. You catch it and return the favor. Mike and Will don't even give you the time of day.

You then turn your attention to Dustin who is both head-banging to the song, and holding up a lazily written message on the black screen of his phone: “I AM LOOKING RESPECTFULLY”. You can't help but giggle. It's like he's a mini Eddie.

Speaking of your boyfriend, your eyes dart back to the side stage where you meet Eddie’s gaze.

She likes to pull my hair when I make her grind her teeth.

You watch as the curly-haired, metalhead-turned-strip-club-owner eyes you steadily, situating his guitar around himself, giving the body of his NJ Warlock one more wipe down with a cloth.

He smirks to himself, satisfied at the thought that only you two know why that guitar needed wiping down in the first place. But he’s mostly pleased with the fact that, despite the long list of handsome, eligible bachelors after your heart, the passionate, down-to-earth, sexy, siren of a woman that is you, is all his.

My girlfriend's a dick magnet. MY girlfriend…

Eddie then takes to the stage, using the same fingers he’ll use to ravage you tonight to strum the chords of the sexy guitar solo of the song — you know, the song about a guy…..with a hot stripper girlfriend…..whose seducing everyone around her while she does her thing…..in that beautiful red set.

“HOLY SHIT!” someone from the crowd raves, causing Eddie’s eyes to light up like a little kid. “DUET OF THE CENTURY!”

You’ve healed so many parts of Eddie that he was too scared to explore: Love after Isabelle. Showing him that self-care is just as important as caring for Wayne. Encouraging him to find a hobby outside of Hellfire that didn't include doing payroll or grocery shopping. And healing his inner teenager by letting him play on stage with you, as he relives his glory days as the guitarist and frontman of Corroded Coffin one last time.

And as Eddie continues to strum, he stays thinking of you. He couldn’t wait to heal more parts of himself…with 'Shy Girl' Hargrove by his side.

“So,” you pant, edging closer to your boyfriend as the music draws on. "What's next after this?"

Eddie smirks. As the instrumental allows, he presses you against his body, kissing you softly against the lips before trailing all the way down your neck. Your breath hitches in arousal as he hums against you.

“Whatever you want.”

The End

SIKE! King Steve has entered the chat… 😉

CALL OUT MY NAME ♛

(Book #2 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club Series)

CEO!bachelor!steve × fem!college grad!reader

MODERN AU • 18+ | BOOK #1 (e.m.)

slight age gap (Steve is 31, reader is 23); reader goes by the nickname "Sweets"

*loosely inspired by sara cate’s salacious players club*

Summary: 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐋𝐄. Steve Harrington has the WORST luck with the ladies. His high school sweetheart left him for another dude, his former fuck buddy is dating his roommate, and his dream girl is a lesbian. King Steve is losing hope. That is until he meets you — a newly graduated university student from Seattle — when your paths cross on a fateful night in Sin City. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas... that is until your risky business trickles over to Hawkins, Indiana, a town your best friend knows of a little too well.

theme song: call out my name by the weeknd

tag list is open 💌✨

PREVIEW

♛

Winter 2024

“WATCH OUT INDIANAPOLIS — you're about to get... absolutely SOAKED!”

The booming voice of a man in Steve’s bedroom stirs him awake.

Letting out a ferocious yawn, The King rubs his eyes free of the annoying crust in the corner of his sockets, flopping around one more time before doing his routine stretch.

“Google,” Steve commands. “Turn off the TV.”

The TV immediately switches off. It’s nothing personal to meteorologist Marcus Bailey, but if Steve ever needed an accurate forecast of Indianapolis, all he would have to do is look outside his penthouse window. And that, after brushing his teeth, is just what he does.

"G'morning Indy,” he sighs happily on his balcony before going back inside.

Steve then makes his way over to the kitchen to fix himself some breakfast.

“Google,” he calls out again. “Open the curtains, please.”

Google replies:

“Opening curtains. Good morning — Steve.”

"Google, what's my schedule looking like today?" "Google, text Dustin." “Google, what is the weather looking like in Nevada?” “Google, turn on my shower tunes.”

The best thing about not living with Eddie Munson anymore, is that Steve can shamelessly sing Amy Winehouse in the shower without being hounded about it.

“We only saaaid GOODBYE, with WORDS!” Steve sings, confidently off-key. “I died a hundred times! You go back to her, and I goooo baaack toooo…”

"Scanning fingerprint...”

an automated voice announces at the entrance of Steve's walk-in closet.

Swish...

The door slides open. Sauntering his way inside, Steve ventures for some slick black athleisure down to the shoes, his usual musky cologne, and some matching sunglasses (despite the gloomy forecast prediction).

Black. 🎶

Steve Harrington is ready for the day.

---

"Google, make reservations for 3 people at Tony's Steakhouse at 7pm please."

All Steve had left to do for the day now was grocery shop. Which was always a hassle. Because sometimes, the store doesn't have the specific brand he's looking for so the shopper has to opt for an alternate version. Or sometimes, the shopper assigned to him that day chooses produce that is nearing its expiration date making every fruit in his bag a mushy mess. It doesn't happen too often, but it sure feels inconvenient as hell when it does. There are worse problems in life though, so Steve really can't complain.

*Ring, ring. Ring, ring*

The very distinct and custom ringtone has Steve bolting across the room to answer the call. One of his best friends was on the other line.

"Yello?" he says into the phone.

"Hey, it's Shy Girl," comes a voice. "Eddie and I are pulling in."

"Pull off to the side. Valet's got it. I'll send you guys up."

A bottle of cabernet sauvignon a la Steve awaits the pair when they make their way over. Consider it a Tony's pre-game.

"GameWorld stock is up 4% today,” Steve's buddy, and owner of Hellfire Gentlemen's Club Eddie Munson announces as the two clink glasses. "I don’t have much faith in it though, figure I’ll get my pie slices from actual grocery stores. Like Meijer.”

“Everyone's always gonna need groceries,” Steve points out. "Definitely. Just don't day trade. Not now."

"Ooh, you hear that, Eds?" Shy Girl nudges him. "You gotta be careful where you put your money."

"I gotta be careful with my money, period," Eddie smirks. "You're a danger to my pockets, angel."

"Oh but you love me," she says.

"Yeah," Eddie gives in, grabbing his lover's dainty digits, trailing his fingers across hers, and rubbing the glistening rock that took up most of her left hand on the distal side. "I sure do."

"I'm just... so proud of us," Steve sappily reflects. "So much has happened over the past two years and we've all come so far."

"Yeah," Shy Girl agrees. "And it's about fucking time we celebrate."

"I agree," Eddie chimes in, raising his glass once again. "This weekend trip is going to be... one for the books."

"Viva Las Vegas," Steve toasts. "Cheers."

"Viva Las Vegas!"

SEATTLE, WASHINGTON

Black and red.

They're the two colors that occupy your closet the most. But of course, after graduating from Washington State University (or Wazzu, for short), you expected nothing less.

You could do with some more sequins though, you think to yourself as you pack your bags.

"What do you think of this, Sweets?"

Peering over your shoulder, you see that your best friend, Elle has started festivities early, managing to hold two glasses of champagne in one hand, and six-inch stilletoes in the other.

"Can't take the party out of the girl, that's for damn sure," you respond.

When you left Seattle to attend WSU Pullman, Elle was your only friend in business class. Mainly because the class was predominantly for dudes, but eventually you found out that you two have a lot in common.

Elle is everything you would want in an older sister figure: she is both book smart and wise, she is sexy, and she eats men for breakfast. And, now that she's about to celebrate the launching of her lingerie business (along with her Dirty 30s Era), and you're about to enter your new-grad era, you two are hitting up Las Vegas to go ham together one last time.

It's all so bittersweet. You owe everything to the Warrens, having taken you in when you were a lost undergrad. It also sucked quite a bit not having a support system after graduating high school. You and Elle were all each other has. Which makes this inevitable separation so much more painful.

"Are you sure you're okay with Vegas by the way?" you question. "I know since the split, being surrounded by gorgeous girls 24/7 can kinda be triggering.”

"Don't worry about it, love," she shakes it off. "The past is in the past. This is a new era of me."

Cheers to that. Clinking your airport-pregame champagne glasses with one another, you raise a toast to yourselves, celebrating how far the two of you have come over the past four years.

"To friendship."

"To being elegant and educated."

"To elegance and education."

"And to being girl-bosses for the rest of our lives."

You giggle as you raise your glass of champagne even higher.

"To being girl-bosses for the rest of our lives," you two take a sip at the same time. "And no matter how near and no matter how far, we're always gonna be besties."

"I love you, Sweets."

"I love you too, Isabelle."

🏷️ tag list: @chrrymunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n , @corrodedcoffincumslut , @bebe07011 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills , @chelebelletx , @imonhereforareasonsadly , @eddies-trailer-babe @motherfckerr , @jxpsi , @sidthedollface2 , @manda-panda-monium , @elvendria , @micheledawn1975 , @hereforshmut , @siriuslysmoking , @mediocredreams @nymphetkoo , @m-chmcl-rmnc , @ahoyyharrington , @keepittoyourselftellnobodyelse @kellyxo1 @emsgoodthinkin @winchester-angel @chloe-6123 , @redbarn1995 @angietherose @kiyastrf94 , @purplewitchcauldron @kellsck @joyfulfxckery @munsons-mayhem28 @dragonfire @emma77645 @drivelikenina @livosssblog @thinkingth0ts @hugdealer @ellielunamckay @xblueriddlex @maskofmirrors @babyloutattoo89 @queenofhawkins @feral-pumpkin-energy @bl0ssomanddie

divider from: @plum98

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #strip club owner! eddie #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson fanfics #joseph quinn #joe quinn

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tigertales9 · 16 days

Text

Hard Reset XIII

Pairing: Joe Burrow x Reader

Warnings: 18+ / Smut / Fluff

Description: This is the conclusion to the LSU Valentine's Day flashback fic. First part is here -- Hard Reset XII

Time/Place: Thursday, Feb. 14, 2019 (Valentine's Day) / Baton Rouge, Louisiana

A/N: This is the thirteenth fic in the Hard Reset series.

I've tweaked this thing to pieces, and I'm still not super happy with it. It is what it is, as Joe would say. 😋

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Thursday, Feb. 14, 2019 (Valentine's Day) - Baton Rouge, Louisiana

5:00 pm

You pull into a parking space just outside Joe's apartment, grabbing two reusable grocery bags and a small duffle bag from your trunk before opening your passenger door; you lean in and unclasp the seatbelt that's holding your vase of roses upright, briefly wondering if you should make two trips as you nudge the car door closed with your foot. "Nah," you mumble, quickly making your way up the sidewalk and a flight of stairs before coming to a stop in front of Joe's door.

You set the vase down on the ground and dig your keys out of your pocket, unlocking the door and grabbing the vase before making your way into the cool, air-conditioned apartment. "He's got the damn a/c cranked," you grumble, depositing the grocery bags and roses on the kitchen island before walking down the hallway to the bedroom.

You set your duffle bag on the bed and unzip it, pulling out a wrap dress (a slinky, blush-pink short-sleeve mini dress) and a pair of nude, peep-toe stiletto heels. You quickly hang the dress in Joe's closet before heading back to the kitchen to pop the groceries in the fridge, stopping to turn the a/c off on the way.

Several minutes later, you step back and assess the simple tablescape you put together with a few items from the craft store -- two pink placemats printed with conversation hearts along with several clear candle holders with bows tied on them that you cut from a large spool of pink satin ribbon.

"Cute," you grin, grabbing the lavish bouquet of pink roses Joe sent you and setting it on the table before adding the simple place settings -- white plates plus silverware wrapped in "fancy" white disposable napkins tied with more pink bows. "Even cuter."

You tilt your head as you look at the table, chewing on your bottom lip while thinking out loud. "Love it, but it needs something else," you mutter, grabbing the spool of pink ribbon and unwinding the rest, grinning when you end up with about four feet of it; you wind it down the center of the table, weaving in between the candle holders and around the vase until you're satisfied with the result. "What else?" you mutter, giggling when a thought hits you.

You hurry to the hall closet and pull out the Scrabble box, rooting around to grab the letters you need to spell a few phrases to mimic the conversation heart placemats. "Thank goodness for pinterest," you mutter, giving a nod to where you got the idea.

You're just finishing the tablescape when you hear the front door open; you walk toward the entryway, smiling when Joe rounds the corner, your heart skipping a beat when his face lights up when he sees you.

"Hey babe," he greets you, wrapping you in a hug as he leans down to press his lips against your ear. "Can you believe it's 70 degrees in mid-fucking-February?" he grumbles, pulling back to look at you when you cackle.

"I knew you were gonna bitch about it," you grin.

"I'm not bitching," he argues. "Just stating a fact."

"Mmm-hmm," you hum, yelping when he playfully swats your ass. "Come here, grumpy cat," you order, walking back toward the dining table while beckoning him to follow. "Look at these gorgeous roses some hot stud sent me," you tease, waving a hand at the roses and laughing at his cocky smirk.

"Hot stud, huh?" He holds eye contact with you while leaning down to sniff the fragrant flowers.

"The hottest," you wink. "Do you like the tablescape?"

He finally breaks eye contact and takes in the table. "I love it," he states. "It's pretty cool that everything matches the roses."

"Yep, pink, pink and more pink," you giggle. "And I bought all of that before you sent me the roses, so we were on the same wavelength, as usual."

"Of course we were," he murmurs, capturing your gaze for a few heartbeats before returning his attention to the table. "The Scrabble tiles are a nice touch," he grins, reading them out loud as he walks around the table. "Be mine … love you … hot stuff … yes sir … zaddy." He flicks his gaze back up to yours. "Nice Z word," he purrs.

"Thanks," you grin. "Do I get triple word score on that one?"

"Oh, you're def gonna get triple something later."

"Can't wait," you sigh, rolling your eyes playfully when he spots the cupcakes sitting pretty on the kitchen island and instantly heads that way.

"Damn," he breathes, "these look delicious." He leans down and takes a hearty sniff as you walk up behind him. "Smell delicious, too," he continues, hitting you with puppy-dog eyes. "Can I have one before dinner?"

"Has anyone ever told you no?" you ask.

"Yep," he nods. "This gorgeous goddess told me no several times. She even used a jigsaw puzzle as an excuse to curve me."

"And how did that turn out?" you ask, picking up one of the plump cupcakes and peeling off the wrapper before handing it to him.

"Amazing," he grins, taking a huge bite of the confection, eyes rolling back in his head as he chews and swallows. "Ridiculously good," he mutters before taking another big bite.

"Ridiculously good, huh?" you tease. "You talking about the cupcake or the relationship?"

"Both," he mumbles around a mouthful, leaning down to press a chocolate + raspberry flavored kiss on your lips.

"Spoiled ass," you grumble playfully, spinning around and walking toward the bedroom, grinning when you hear him following close behind. "I'm wearing this tonight," you continue, pulling the short, slinky dress out of his closet.

"Damn," he mutters. "You're gonna look hot as hell in that. I mean … you always look hot as hell, but …"

"Babe?" you interrupt.

"Yeah?"

"Focus."

"Yes, ma'am."

You grin at him as you pull a pair of slinky black shorts and a pale pink tee out of his dresser. "Wear this," you order, laying the clothes out on his bed.

"Yes, ma'am," he repeats, slowly licking the frosting off of his fingers as you watch. "I'm gonna get a quick shower," he continues.

"I'm gonna change then start dinner," you state, your pulse picking up at the sight of his tongue sliding against his long fingers.

~ ~ ~

A little while later, you pull the oven door open and pop the garlic bread in before giving the boiling pasta a quick check, noting that it still needs a few minutes before going into the sauce; a blur of movement catches your peripheral vision, and you turn your head toward it, your eyes going wide when you see Joe leaning against the wall a few feet away, his gaze slowly sliding down to your bare feet before reversing course.

"You look amazing," he murmurs, pushing away from the wall and walking toward you.

"Thanks, you too," you mutter, stepping into your high heels as he closes the distance between you.

"You don't need those," he states, dropping to his knees to pull your shoes off, his big hands gripping your ankles as he eases the heels off.

"Okay," you breathe. "I was just trying to be sexy for you."

"You don't need to try to be sexy," he states, standing back up to his full height and looking down into your upturned face. "You are sexy."

"Okay," you repeat, licking your lips before giving him a grin. "We've got a few minutes before dinner is ready, so I want to give you something." You hurry to the hall closet and grab the jigsaw puzzle that you hid there earlier, smiling when you return to the kitchen and hand it to him.

"Nice," he grins. "Pillars of Creation. Is it a shot from Hubble?"

"Yeah, with a super hot heat signature."

"Super hot," he agrees. "You gonna help me put it together?"

"Of course," you answer, watching as he sets the puzzle box aside before returning his attention to you.

He gives you a quick kiss before pulling back. "Thank you," he murmurs.

"You're welcome," you whisper, grimacing as a thought hits you.

"What is it?" he asks.

"I just … I wonder …" you trail off.

"Wonder what?" he asks.

"What if we hadn't seen each other at the outdoor food court? It's crazy that we came so close to not ever getting together after I gave you the jigsaw brush off."

He gives you a knowing smile. "I would've come back into the bookstore eventually. I'm a stubborn asshole. No way was I gonna give up on you that easy."

"I'm glad you're a stubborn asshole."

"And I'm glad you decided to give me a chance," he grins.

"Me too," you return his grin. "Even though it means I've been to more LSU football games in the last few months than I'd been to in my entire life."

"And not one drunk asshole harassed you, right?"

"Well, yeah. Prob because you very publicly threatened to "deal with" anyone who bothered me."

"Anyone who messes with my woman messes with me."

"That sounded super caveman, but I ain't even mad."

"Because you know I didn't mean it in a bad way; I'm just as much yours as you are mine."

"You're getting laid tonight, babe," you grin. "No need to work for it." The timer on the oven goes off before he can respond, and you quickly drain the pasta before adding it to the sauce, giving it a thorough stir before pulling the garlic bread out of the oven.

~ ~ ~

Ten minutes later, most of the overhead lights are cut off, and y'all are eating dinner by candlelight, Joe making num-num noises as he tucks into the spicy pasta.

"This is so good," he groans, winding a generous portion of linguine around his fork before popping it in his mouth, grabbing his glass of blush wine and holding it up as he chews and swallows. "Happy V Day," he murmurs, smiling as you clink your glass against his.

"Happy V Day," you echo, taking a hearty gulp of your wine and giggling as he continues to tell you a story of something silly that happened earlier at the gym.

Y'all continue to trade small talk as you eat, his gaze devouring you in a way that sets off a steady throb between your thighs. You open your mouth a few times to let him feed you a succulent bite, the sexual tension between you so strong that the simple act of eating dinner together feels like foreplay.

"Sooo, I've got something else to give you," he eventually says, polishing off his pasta and draining the last of his wine before leveling a no-nonsense look at you.

"I know," you purr. "I've been waiting all day for it."

His deep laugh sends a sizzle of heat down your spine; he gives you a wink as he stands up. "I wasn't talking about that, horndog. I've got something else to give you first."

"Okay," you pout," grinning against his lips when he leans down and gives you a lingering kiss. "Patience, beautiful," he teases. "I promise to make it worth the wait."

"You always do," you admit, watching as he walks to the bedroom and quickly comes back out holding a slim black case; he pops it open, grinning as you gasp at the sight of the dainty, white-gold bracelet with two intertwined pavé diamond hearts.

"Oh my gosh, it's gorgeous," you whisper, shaking your head as you continue, "but it's too much."

"It's not enough, in my opinion," he states, lifting the bracelet from its velvet nest. "These are real diamonds, but they're small, and it's not like it's Cartier or something. One of these days, I'm gonna get you something truly outrageous."

You lift an arm up so he can fasten the bracelet on your wrist. "I don't need outrageous, and I don't need Cartier," you mutter, watching closely as his long, agile fingers easily work the delicate clasp. "It's really beautiful and sparkly," you sigh. "I love it, and I love you."

"I love you, too," he murmurs, leaning down to capture your lips in a lingering kiss for several heartbeats before pulling back and locking eyes with you. "I want you to think about me when you wear it."

"I already think about you all the time," you admit. "I don't need a reminder."

"You're getting laid tonight, babe," he echoes your earlier words while giving you a naughty wink. "No need to work for it."

You giggle as he stacks your dinner dishes and heads to the kitchen, quickly rinsing them off and popping them in the dishwasher before returning to the table with the bottle of wine; he pours the rest of it into your glass and gently pulls your chair -- with you still sitting in it -- out from under the table before dropping to his knees at your feet.

You take a sip of the wine, your pulse reacting as he spreads your legs, his sensual lips teasing your inner thighs as he pushes the hem of your dress up, nibbling and sucking, moving back and forth as you sink a hand into his hair. He makes eye contact with you as he unties your wrap dress and spreads it open, baring your body to his hot gaze.

"So gorgeous," he murmurs, licking his lips as he flicks his eyes from your bare breasts down to your naughty panties. "Fuck," he groans, running a thumb up the length of the center seam a few times before replacing his thumb with his mouth, sliding his tongue up the seam, over and over, pushing the thin, see-through pink fabric into your slit.

"Yeah," you breathe, draining the rest of your wine before setting the glass on the table and sinking both hands in his hair; you roll your hips into him as he continues to tease you, grinding against him for several heartbeats before he pulls back and locks eyes with you.

"We need to slow this down," he states," hopping up and walking behind you. "Lean forward and put your hands behind your back," he orders, waiting for you to do his bidding before snatching the long, pink ribbon off the table and using it to bind your hands behind your back. "Good girl," he murmurs, watching closely as you lean back in your chair, wiggling a bit to get comfy as he strips his shirt off before dropping to his knees between your spread thighs. "I wanna take my time," he explains, "and I can't do that if you're pulling my hair and grinding against me."

"I thought you liked that," you pout.

"I love it, but it gets both of us off super fast, and I wanna take my time tonight, okay?"

"Okay," you whisper, gasping as he hooks a finger in the crotch of your panties and pulls it to the side, burying his tongue inside you.

Over the next several minutes, he gives a master class in edging, bringing you to the brink over and over as you whimper and moan, your pulse pounding and every inch of your body begging for release.

"I'm so close!" you whine for what seems like the 20th time, groaning in frustration when he pulls off of your clit and makes eye contact with you, his lips and chin glistening wet with your arousal.

"I know," he soothes, rising up on his knees as you pant for breath; he leans forward and presses his slick lips against yours, nipping and sucking your plump bottom lip before sliding his tongue inside when you open up for him. You moan into his mouth as he deepens the kiss, relishing the taste of your arousal on his hot, velvety tongue as it tangles with yours.

He continues the sensual kiss while sliding his hands up your thighs and over your hips and waist, barely ghosting his fingertips over your skin, leaving chill bumps everywhere he touches. Your already-hard nipples harden even more in anticipation as his big hands approach your breasts, making you squirm as his fingers inch oh-so-close but stop just before reaching the sensitive peaks.

"Please," you beg against his lips, your breath catching in your throat when he brushes his fingertips over the aching nubs, teasing you with gentle, barely-there caresses before pinching with the perfect amount of pressure to make you whimper. He smiles against your lips as he repeats the action, and you're more than a little lightheaded at the feel of his tongue in your mouth and his talented fingers teasing your sensitive nipples. All you can think about is wanting more.

He reads your body language and lowers his head, replacing his fingers with his mouth and moving back and forth between your breasts as you watch him pleasure you; he licks and sucks your nipples so good you can feel it between your thighs.

"I'm so turned on it actually hurts," you whine, chewing on your bottom lip as he captures your gaze.

"You want me to finish you?" he asks, the carnal promise in his deep voice causing your core to contract.

"Yes, sir," you plead. "It won't take much," you continue, your pulse pounding as he reaches a hand behind your back and unties the ribbon holding your wrists, making a sound low in his throat when you immediately bury both hands in his hair.

You briefly admire the glittery sparkle of your new bracelet as the candlelight hits it, all coherent thought leaving your brain a few heartbeats later when he tugs the soaking wet crotch of your panties to the side and slides two fingers into your slick heat.

"Don't stop!" you urge, grinding against him as he crooks his fingers inside you, bulls-eyeing your sweet spot while he latches his lips onto your clit, his cheeks hollowing out as he gives the aching bud a thorough suck.

The tension that's been building inside you for what seems like ages finally erupts, the powerful climax washing over you in waves, literally taking your breath away for several seconds before you manage to draw in a ragged gasp of air. "Fuck," you whisper, a little dizzy at the feel of your core clenching and rippling around his long fingers as he continues to stroke you through the orgasm.

After waiting a few minutes for you to catch your breath, he slides his fingers out of you and immediately slides them in his mouth, licking and sucking them the same way he did the cupcake frosting earlier.

"Taste good?" you ask, your breathless voice bringing a naughty smile to his face.

"Better than good," he answers. "It's my fav flavor."

"I need you inside me," you whisper, watching as he grabs the pink ribbon and wraps it around your neck before quickly picking you up; he heads for the bedroom as you wrap your legs around his waist and bury your face in his fragrant neck.

A few heartbeats later, you're on your back on the king-sized bed with him on top of you, both of you now fully naked. He leans his weight onto his left forearm and hovers over you, his chest barely touching your nipples as he reaches down and grasps his erection, teasing the lips of your sex with his plump tip while staring into your eyes.

"I need you inside me," you repeat, squirming underneath him as he drags his tip up and down your slit several times to gather moisture before pushing inside. You wrap your legs around him and arch up, wanting all of him at once, craving the feel of his thick shaft filling you up.

"I'm not gonna last long," he grits out once he's fully seated, a hiss escaping his lips when your core clenches him, your body reacting to the hot, hard intrusion. "Fuck me, please," you beg, your eyes fluttering closed as he starts to move.

Almost immediately you feel the tension building again as your body continues to react to the feel of him inside you, to the delicious thrust and drag of his thick cock stretching you to your limit. "I'm gonna cum again," you mutter, opening your eyes and giving him a slightly desperate look as he picks up his pace. "I got you," he promises as he leans down and latches his lips onto your neck, sucking the sensitive skin as he pounds into you, gracing you with a low-throated groan when you rake your nails up the long, muscular expanse of his back.

"Don't stop," you plead, lightheaded with desire as your entire body strains toward another release. "I got you, baby," he repeats, reaching down between your sweat-slick bodies to press his thumb against your clit, adding the perfect amount of pressure to set you off.

You let out a yell, and Joe gives a groan of pure male satisfaction when your second climax hits, filthy praise spilling from his pretty lips as the waves of pleasure roll through you; your slick heat clenches his shaft over and over while you pull his hair and whimper his name, your entire body trembling as fireworks burst behind your closed eyelids.

Once you somewhat catch your breath, you flutter your eyes open, a blush rising in your cheeks when you realize he's gone completely still and is watching you closely. "I love to make you lose control," he purrs, his husky voice caressing you like a physical touch; it only takes you a second to realize he's still hard inside you, tension radiating from his big body at the effort to hold still while the aftershocks of your climax continue to fire, giving his thick cock intimate squeezes as his hot gaze stays locked on yours.

"Your turn," you whisper, digging your heels into his back and arching up to take him deeper, the primal noise he makes as he starts to thrust -- part groan/part growl -- encouraging you to be more vocal, begging him to fuck you harder and deeper as he chases his pleasure. You eventually slide the pink ribbon out from under your neck and wrap it behind his neck, using it to pull him down for a kiss, swallowing his groans as he buries himself inside you and comes apart.

He eventually pulls out of you, both of you gasping at the friction before he plops down beside you on his back, a satisfied smile on his face as he turns his head and gives you a wink. "That was intense," he murmurs.

"For real," you agree, returning his smile as your entire body continues to hum with pleasure.

"I'm almost too wrung out to eat another cupcake," he grumbles playfully.

"Give it a few minutes, and you'll be good to go," you giggle, heaving a happy sigh as he reaches over and grabs your hand, lacing his long fingers with your shorter ones and giving a gentle squeeze. You study his face for several heartbeats before breaking the silence. "What are you thinking?"

"Just about how lucky we are that we found each other," he answers. "Feels like fate."

You try to blink back tears as he rolls up onto a forearm and looks down at you. "I didn't mean to make you cry," he whispers, leaning down to kiss a tear as it slides down your cheek.

"They're happy tears," you sniff, poking your bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout before continuing. "But a cupcake would def make me feel better."

His deep laugh brings a smile to your face; he leans down and drops a kiss on your lips before sliding out of bed. "You want me to open the other bottle of wine?" he asks.

"I think I'll just have water."

"Me too," he agrees, quickly walking into the bathroom before coming back out with a damp washcloth; he gently cleans you up before tossing the cloth back in the bathroom and giving you a big grin. "Water and cupcakes coming right up," he states, his long strides quickly taking him out the bedroom door.

You push up into a sitting position and try to tame your hair a bit, smiling as you catch sight of your new bracelet. "So pretty," you sigh, rocking your wrist back and forth to let the diamonds catch the light from the bedside lamp. You roll your shoulders a few times and stretch your arms overhead, your eyes coming to rest on the pink ribbon laying on the bed beside you. "Oh," you mutter, your eyes going wide as a naughty thought hits you. "Ohhhh," you whisper, quickly snatching the ribbon and winding it around the bottom slat of the headboard, looping it into a tight, center knot that leaves two long strands free.

You grab a pillow and hide your handiwork just as Joe breezes back in carrying two bottles of water and a plate with three cupcakes. He sets everything on the bedside table before peeling one of the cupcakes and handing it to you.

"Thanks," you grin, taking a bite as he peels his own cupcake and plops down beside you.

"These are so good," he mumbles around a huge bite, holding a hand in front of his mouth so you won't see his partially-chewed food.

"Thanks," you repeat, both of you falling into a comfortable silence as you each polish off your cupcake.

He eventually licks his fingertips before grabbing a bottle of water and handing it to you. "Oops," he grimaces. "Was it gross to lick my fingers and then touch your water bottle?"

You take a swig of water before smiling at him. "I'm literally covered in our combined body fluids. Def not worried about a bit of spit on my water bottle."

He laughs along with you before taking several gulps of water, his prominent Adam's apple drawing your gaze as it bobs in his throat. So fucking sexy, you think to yourself, admiring the view for a few more seconds before raising your eyes back up to his face; his hot look causes a shiver of desire to run through you.

"Are you cold?" he asks.

"No," you admit, scooting over and patting the bed. "Why don't you lay down and let me massage you a bit."

"Face down or face up?" he asks.

"Face up," you answer, trying to suppress a naughty grin as he does your bidding, stretching out and resting his head on the pillow that's concealing the ribbon.

You straddle his waist and dig your fingers into his shoulders, giving him an innocent smile when he flicks his gaze down to your bare crotch nestled against him.

"You know where this is headed, right?" he asks, voice husky with arousal.

"Yes, but I wanna take my time," you state, repeating his earlier words as you grab his wrists and slowly press his arms over his head. "Relax," you soothe, quickly pulling the satin ribbon strands out from under the pillow and wrapping them around his wrists, tying a knot before he even figures out what you're doing.

He pulls against the restraint, one eyebrow climbing toward his hairline. "Payback, huh?"

"Maybe a little," you concede, leaning over and grabbing the remaining cupcake off the bedside table. You swipe a finger through the fluffy frosting, smearing it on his Adam's apple before leaning down to lick it off. "Oh fuck," he groans, instinctively knowing where you're headed with this. "Oh fuck, indeed," you giggle, dotting a dollop of frosting on each of his nipples before licking them clean, grinning as he squirms underneath you. "I think I'll do that again," you purr, adding more of the sweet pink fluff to his hard nubs, making obscene noises as you slowly lick and suck it off.

"I'm hard," he announces.

"I know," you grin, giving him a filthy wink. "But I wanna take my time."

"You're going to hell for this," he chuckles.

"Save you a seat," you tease, sliding farther down until you're sitting on his thick thighs, strategically ignoring his impressive erection as you paint a few stripes of frosting on his abs; you lean down and make a show out of licking the frosting as he watches you with hooded eyes.

"I need to be balls deep in you right now," he rasps.

"Still taking my time," you whisper, swiping some frosting around his belly button before rimming it with your tongue.

"Untie me so I can fuck you," he orders, groaning when you slide a finger through the precum pooling under the tip of his cock, bringing your finger to your mouth and sucking on it while giving him a loaded look. "You better stop playin'," he warns, bucking his hips up when you lower your head and lightly suck his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around a few times before pulling off.

"Just relax," you soothe, scooting farther down, smiling when he spreads his thighs for you; you crawl between his thick thighs and run your fingers through the last of the frosting before smearing it on his balls, a flood of liquid heat rushing into your core at the noises he makes as you slowly lick it off.

"Untie me or I'm gonna break something," he grits out, the headboard giving an ominous creak as he pulls against it.

"Don't hurt yourself," you warn.

"I'm not gonna hurt myself, but I'm gonna wreck this fucking headboard if you don't untie me."

"Okay, Mr. Impatient," you chuckle, tossing the cupcake on the bedside table as you crawl out from between his thighs and quickly scoot up to untie him. "You made this knot way tighter by pulling against it," you mutter, finally working a finger inside the knot and giving a sigh of relief when it gives way.

Your sigh is quickly followed by a squeal as he flips you onto your stomach, pulling you up onto your knees and sinking his cock inside you in one smooth motion. You press your forehead against the mattress and arch your back, digging your fingers into the sheets for leverage as you fuck back against him, a steady stream of whimpers spilling from your lips as he rides you hard.

Several minutes later, you feel the tension building inside you again; you draw in a breath to tell him you're close, but he's already reaching down to play with your clit. You grind your face against the mattress as the pressure continues to build, his fingers and cock pushing you toward the edge, his husky voice coaxing you to let go and cum for him. You take in a gulp of air and moan his name as your climax hits, a thrill shooting through you when he moans your name before following you over the edge.

~ ~ ~

You flutter your eyes open, briefly wondering what woke you up as you turn your head to check the clock on the bedside table -- 4:33 am.

You push up into a sitting position and grab your water bottle, chugging about half of it before setting it back down, your gaze drawn to the tall, gorgeous man in bed beside you as he stirs in his sleep.

I'm living a dream, you think to yourself as you give a quick glance at your new bracelet before stretching back out beside your man, your heart overflowing with love as he instinctively reaches for you even though he's sound asleep. You snuggle against him, your back to his chest, a smile of pure contentment gracing your lips as you drift off to sleep wrapped in his arms.

#joe burrow #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagine

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