#tipsy tom | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

majestyeverlasting · 11 months ago

Text

the moments in between

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: When Joel and Ellie arrive at the Jackson commune, his strong frame and intense gaze captivate you. But as the days pass, you lose hope that he might be drawn to you as well. That is, until the walls come crashing down and the truth finally reveals itself.

Word Count: 7.3k [slow burn]

A/N: I put a lot of love and time into this one. It's my longest fic so far but it didn't feel hard, which I like to believe is a good thing. Hope it resonates, hope you feel the feels and the yearning between these two—let me know! Hope you're well.

A breeze follows Tommy as he saunters in through the doors of the Tipsy Bison, the soft click of his boot heels echoing off the wood with each easy step. The cowboy hat on his head casts a shadow over his eyes until he takes it off, his dark hair cascading down over his ears. There’s a small smile playing on his lips that makes you narrow your eyes.

Cleaning the bartop suddenly loses its appeal, but you don’t stop, only slow down. The fresh, tangy scent of lemongrass continues to waft up from the motion.

“We close early on Sunday’s, officer,” you tease as he climbs onto a stool.

He frowns as he sets his hat aside. “I don’t look like a cop, do I?” You shrug, and he chuckles as his gaze roves over to the pool room. “Nate back there? Yo, Nate!”

“Evening, Tom,” the older man calls back as he polishes a cue ball.

“Joel’s made it into town.” There’s no overt emotion in the way he shares the news, but you can see that it’s all in his eyes as he waits for you to react.

“Joel, Joel? As in your brother?” He nods, still in disbelief himself. “Oh my gosh, that’s amazing, Tommy—right? What the heck.” He used to talk about him all the time.

His exhale makes way for a shaky smile, “I know. Made it in not too long ago with a young girl he’s looking after,” he tells you, voice thick with a mix of emotions. “He’s outside. Wanted to come in and see if you’d let us grab a drink.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Know it’s late. Promise I’ll make up for the trouble.” He knows it’s no trouble. Not when it comes to him.

He turns around, barstool squeaking, and waves Joel in through the window.

You move to start working on their whiskies. “Make it up by letting me be the baby’s godmother?” The glasses clink as you set them onto the bar and begin pouring the caramel colored liquid, smirking when you meet his gaze.

Tommy isn’t completely opposed to the idea. You’d been in Jackson since the beginning, a friend to him and Maria in every sense of the word. Arguably family. “If you can manage not to tick me off until the little one gets here.” Despite his words, his eyes are fond.

The door creaks open, and Joel strides in, scanning the room. There are pictures on the walls of American icons and landmarks, and old Polaroids of commune members. There’s a guarded confidence to the way he walks, an intensity.

Tommy quickly leans in and whispers, “He means well. It’s been a long day.”

Joel takes a seat beside his brother and acknowledges you with a curt nod, tugging on the collar of his shirt.

“Welcome to Jackson,” you greet, introducing yourself afterwards.

“Joel,” he says, taking you in with a steady gaze.

“Tommy’s told me a lot about you.” You push their glasses closer to them in an encouragement to start drinking.

Joel takes his first sip and fights back a reflexive grimace. It’s been a while, but it's good. Good enough to make him feel pleasantly warm as it glides down. Tommy drinks off his brother’s lead, and you realize just how alike they look. Joel’s hair is a little shorter and accented with streaks of gray, but they both have those same dark, telling eyes.

They fall into light conversation, but it’s clearly not what they'd talk about if they were alone. That’s when you sense the distance. The slight edge to the space between them. It’s why Tommy resorts to drawing you in, the two of you ripping off each other as Joel listens, fine with not having to speak until this whole little ordeal was winding to an end. However, he does sit up a little straighter whenever you laugh. You pour them more whiskey when their glasses get empty.

Eventually, the remaining light outside fades away. Tommy hisses at the sight, standing. “I gotta get home to Maria,” he says, stretching his back. Joel moves to get up too, until, “At least finish off this glass, man. You’ve earned it.” Tommy squeezes his brother’s shoulder. He means it genuinely, at least. “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, Joel. Thanks again for this,” he tells you.

“Bye, sheriff,” you call after him. Tommy scoffs.

Joel realizes just how quiet it is when you move aside to tinker with a bison trinket sitting on the counter, unsure of what to say with Tommy gone. He knows you can see him looking at you. “So, are you here by yourself?” he finally asks.

A playful smile tugs at your lips. “That’s not a creepy question at all,” you tease, quickly gathering that he doesn’t find the implication funny. “Uncle Nate?” you call.

“Busy!”

You raise your brows at Joel. “Not alone.”

Nate was chosen family. The man taught you everything you know about shooting, fishing, and survival even though you gave him a hard time for it when you were younger. He was also the founder of the Tipsy Bison. He only came into the bar on the weekends when he wasn't on patrol. His time in the military all those years ago made it hard to step away from a life of service.

“We were cleaning when Tommy came in,” you tell Joel. He takes in that information wordlessly.

“You aren’t much for talking, are you?” Joel takes a sip from his glass. “Nothing wrong with that. Must mean you don’t miss much. Really observant.” When he doesn’t respond, you smile shyly, realizing he probably just wanted to relax after a long day. “Guess I won’t stand here and talk your ears off.”

The floor creaks as you disappear into the recreation room with Nate, rounding the corner. Joel exhales, shoulders dropping from being drawn up. He almost misses your company.

Nate sits hunched over a word search puzzle, using the pool table as if it's a normal desk. He doesn’t look up at you, even when you give an affectionate tug to his curly gray ponytail. It was something you’d been doing since the days you both were out on your own and had to stay quiet all the time. Back when there was no safety, no security, no commune.

“Ouch,” he drones, unphased.

“Are you gonna come out and meet Tommy's brother?” you ask, low so Joel can’t hear. “I feel like you guys have a lot in common: brooding and grumpy.” Pride flutters in your chest when the man’s lips twitch.

“I’ll meet him… eventually. Gotta finish this puzzle.” You realize there’s a small hourglasses going, the sand swiftly filling the bottom portion. “There ya are—serendipity.” He circles the letters.

Word searches were something he recently started doing. When you have a past as extensive as his, it’s always chasing after you in one way or another. Especially in those quiet moments that sneak up on you. He claimed that seeking out words from amid an ordered chaos keeps the racing thoughts at bay whenever they come rushing in.

Joel is finished by the time you join him again, and you realize he’d waited instead of calling out. Already standing, ready to go.

“Anything else I can get you?”

He shakes his head. “I appreciate your hospitality.”

Joel turns to leave but you keep talking, “So I reckon Tommy already squared you away with a house and a tour of the town?”

He stops. “I’m across the street from him. Gettin’ the tour tomorrow.”

“That’s great, I’m really glad you found us.” You sound so genuine that there’s a flutter in his gut. “We’re a pretty crazy bunch, but I think you’re gonna like it here.”

“Hope so.” Those are the words he leaves you with.

Your eyes stay trained on his back as he makes his way towards the door, stride the same as when he first arrived. Perhaps a little looser. Before he exits the bar, his eyes catch a glimpse of one of the decorative license plates secured to the wall: Austin, Texas.

Shortly after he makes it outside, his heart rate ticks up in that impending way he wishes wasn’t so familiar, breath catching in his throat as if he’d forgotten how to breathe. There’s no escaping the panic as it sets in, surging through him. A few staggering steps allow him to brace a hand on a wooden directory board.

You see it all from inside. At first, you think he’s trying to read the sign, but then he hunches over more and grips his chest. Without thinking, you jog towards the doors.

“Joel?” You call once you’ve broken outside.

It’s a cool spring night, a crescent moon shares its pale glow from above. Most of Jackson is already tucked away inside or at least halfway there. But in this sliver of time, it feels like it’s just the two of you outside. Joel doesn’t let on that he’d heard you, but the moment you’re close enough, you recognize what’s going on. You press your palm to his back to let him know you’re there. That he’s still here.

“Concentrate on your breathing. In and out, just like that,” you encourage, settling on rubbing his back in measured passes. Then you go quiet on the off chance he needs that.

In your newfound silence, Joel is forced to focus on the shaky breaths rising from his lungs. That’s when he accepts he’s not in control. Not in the grand scheme of things. There’s a whole big fallen world just outside the gates of this haven. A world that had taken people he loved and was cruel enough to let him be the one who lived to tell the tale. The heat that rises to his cheeks is made up of frustration more than distress, crackling like pop. Like coals.

The ground takes on a vignette as he stares at it, his vision briefly closes in. You never withdraw your touch.

When his breaths eventually begin to steady, you remember how to breathe yourself. With a tired exhale, he straightens back up to his full height, and you take a few small steps away. Maybe this wasn’t new, but a fact of life for the man who’d rode into Jackson in an air of mystery and a young girl by his side. Maybe he never wanted you to get a glimpse at this side of him. If he feels that way, he doesn’t make it obvious. He almost looks appreciative that you’d bothered enough to care.

“Sorry to scare you,” he rasps, not meeting your gaze even though he can feel it. You want to tell him that there isn’t much that scares you anymore. At least that’s what you like to believe. “I’m usually alone.”

Except, tonight, he wasn’t. And maybe that wasn’t such a terrible thing.

•••

Howdy Stranger

This is Jackson Hole

The last of the Old West

Joel reads the painted wooden sign as Tommy and Maria show him and Ellie around. There are people everywhere. Children playing outside, adults fluttering in and out of shops. All while the Teton mountains loom and watch over it all with their snow-capped peaks. He looks over at the girl when she nudges his arm, pointing to a Calico lounging on a porch. Despite her beaming smile, all he offers is a low hum.

It was hard to be in the now when his thoughts were split between the past and future. Up until Jackson, there was no such thing as stability, and he couldn’t help but think about the day that the rug would be pulled from beneath the commune as well. Ellie’s smile fades when she notices the harsh squint of his face. He kicks himself for it.

“Cat hater,” she mumbles under her breath.

Joel grunts and directs his attention back to his brother.

When the tour comes to an inevitable end, Ellie sings Jackson’s praises after Tommy and Maria go their separate ways with a promise to reconnect later that day. He lets her talk as they make their way back to their new house, idly agreeing every once in a while. A few curious eyes fall on them as they walk, but Joel doesn’t pay them any mind.

“Dude, are you even listening to me?” Ellie stops walking to give him a flat look.

“I hear you,” he insists. “Been hearing you for the past ten minutes.”

There’s no snark in his tone, but Ellie still feels the slight sting of offense. “Well, sorry for being excited about having a nice place to live for once. It’s not like I was born into hell or anything—I mean the Boston QZ.” Sarcasm drips from her voice as she starts walking again, faster so it looks like they’re not together.

Joel swallows down guilt like it’s just another pill. His legs are long, so it doesn’t take much to catch back up with her.

“Hey…Kid…Ellie.” She keeps ignoring him. “This is new for me too, okay? Everybody’s got a different way of processing, can we agree on that?” It’s a fair enough proposal. He never had been forward when it came to sharing his thoughts. “Wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she murmurs, deciding to take a break from her rambling for his sake. The mutual silence isn’t so bad.

Someone he isn’t expecting to see is you. You’re wearing a backpack and ushering a line of young kids into the community center. One of the little girls stops and stretches her arms up towards you, earning a playful eyeroll before being lifted onto your hip. Joel doesn’t miss the way the afternoon sunlight catches your face.

•••

The next day, a faint thump against the door startles Ellie as she sketches in the dining room. Rather than getting up from the table, she remains still, pencil in hand and brows furrowed. Upstairs, the spray of the shower continues as Joel lets it drown out everything else. Three light knocks eventually sound, and she musters up the courage to scurry to the front.

She peeks out the window first, spotting you. Someone she hadn’t seen around. An amused smile pulls at her lips at the way you’ve seemingly wrestled the big basket you’re holding into a better grip than before.

When she opens the door, you let out a relieved sigh. “Special delivery,” you say before introducing yourself.

“That’s a really pretty name,” she compliments, already warming up to you. “I’m Ellie—is all that stuff for us?” When you nod, she excitedly steps aside and ushers you in.

“I’m not gonna say you shouldn’t have because that’d be a lie,” she shamelessly admits. “You can put it right over here.” You follow her into the living room and place the welcome basket on the coffee table.

A few of the ladies you volunteer with helped you put it together after your shift counseling for the spring break camp. There were cookies, seeds, natural soaps, feminine hygiene products, and even a knit blanket that looked particularly soft and cozy. Ellie wastes no time reaching out to run her fingers over it. A laugh bubbles up your throat when her jaw drops.

“This is literally what clouds feel like.” She haphazardly pulls the blanket out the basket, wrapping it around herself like a cape. “If Joel says anything, this was specifically included for me.”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to share if he asked nicely,” you reason, amused. Ellie’s nose wrinkles. “But to be fair, we did think you’d be the one to really appreciate it.”

She smiles at being considered. “Who made it? This is, like, next level.”

“A woman named Emilia,” you tell her. “She actually made me one back when Jackson was first being built up that I still have,” you tell her, taking a seat on the couch and looking around. The evening sunlight pours in through the windows, casting golden streaks onto the floors. “Now she’s always got a few on standby.”

Ellie sits beside you, reaching out to dig through the other contents in awe. “They told us the commune's only, like, seven years old on our tour yesterday,” she recounts. Think you’ll have your blanket forever?”

“Forever’s an awful long time. It might hold up,” you think aloud. Ellie nods, contemplative. “I can take you by to meet her sometime, if you’d like. She’s the resident seamstress, so you’ll probably end up crossing paths anyways.”

“What about you? What do you do?” she asks, giving you her full attention.

“I mainly help coordinate community events. Been stepping in to assist with the youth spring break camp for the last couple days, though,” you say. “Also bartend on the nights that I feel like it. Just for fun, you know?”

Ellie's face lights up. “I’ve had whiskey before.” She puffs out her chest when she says it, and you play into her pride by raising an impressed brow. The first and last time you had a sip was when you snuck it from Nate as a teen. “But that’s really cool, though. The community stuff and all that.” You can tell by her tone that she means it. In more ways than one, you’re reminded of your younger self.

“Joel’s gonna join the patrol. He says I’m too young, but that’s just bullshit.” She says the last part lower as if he’s somewhere listening. “I’ll figure out a way to make him cave.” There’s an air of confidence to her voice that suggests she’s done it before. The thought warms a tiny portion of your chest.

“I’ve gone out with my uncle Nate a few times. It can be a lot,” you admit. “He just wants you safe, Nate’s the same way.”

As Joel stops at the top of the staircase, freshly showered, he catches those last words. He’d know your voice even if it’d been forever. His footsteps are quiet as he descends the stairs, but you hear him coming nevertheless. Ellie’s too busy sniffing the pine soap as you straighten up and glance his way. Joel’s eyes are as observant as you remember when they land on you, seeing into you, it seems. His damp hair is combed back in a way that makes him look more distinguished.

“There you are.” You stand up with a smile. You’d been wondering how he was doing since the panic attack.

He wishes your warmth wasn't so compelling.

Ellie whips around to look at him. “I know you said not to open the door to strangers—which is practically everybody at this point—but she’s really nice and brought us gifts so you can’t be mad at me,” she rushes out. He clocks the blanket around her shoulders.

He hmphs. “That’s how they get you.” He’s not being serious, but Ellie frowns, trying to read through his eternal poker face. “Treats and a friendly smile.” Your lips twitch in amusement as Ellie narrows her eyes.

When Joel starts walking your way, she consoles herself with the fact that he would've already asked you to leave if he sensed your intentions were off. The commune wasn’t filled with questionable people like that anyways. The two of them didn’t have to be apprehensive of every soul they came across anymore.

He’s close enough now that you can smell the cedar soap on his skin. “I’m not a stranger,” you lightly defend. “Not entirely.” You look from Ellie to Joel.

A wall rises in real time, shutting you out right along with the night you met. It happens in his eyes just like everything does. He hadn’t mentioned you to her, and it was your mistake for believing he would’ve at least passed on a name.

You swallow back a small lump in your throat that may not be entirely just. “Anyways, hopefully you guys will be able to put this stuff to use.”

“Of course we will,” Ellie pipes up. “Are you leaving already?” She hadn’t missed the finality that had crept into your tone.

You nod. “Don’t wanna take up too much of your evening. I actually meant to come by sooner.”

“Well, are you going to the dining hall for dinner?” Her gaze flicks to Joel. “Maybe you can come with us.”

Joel knows he’s in trouble when he hears the fondness in Ellie’s voice. It’s the same sentiment he was straining to tamper down within himself. Every time he opened his mouth or looked at you, it tried to claw its way to the forefront. The last thing he needed was another person getting close enough to see that he was a million tiny pieces being held together by the glue of whatever god was keeping him alive.

You decline her invitation, expressing plans to go to your uncle’s place. But you give her a rain check. When you go to leave, Joel allows his eyes to flitter down the rest of your body.

That wouldn’t be the last he saw of you. But it was always from afar, lingering on the outskirts. Wishing there was a seamless way he could fall into your orbit without sending everything spiraling out of control.

You were always looking right back at him with hope in your eyes, holding space. Waiting for your world to be shaken.

•••

Laughter, chatter, and music drown out the insects that usually take precedence at night. Weeks of planning had finally come into fruition. All of Main Street is lined with fairy lights that cast their warm glow down on the summer festival. There was no shortage of entertainment, games, and food. It was a time to let loose and relish the sweetness in the air along with that of life.

Nate plays his harmonica for a group of children around the bonfire, all clapping and stomping along. A smile graces your face as you walk by, waving at him. The fullness of your heart almost overrides the ache that has settled in the arches of your feet. You’d barely sitten down since earlier that morning when preparation began. There was a sense of responsibility that came along with the orange vest you were dawned in. The pressure to assist, and guide, and answer questions wasn’t all on you, but the other volunteers were better at taking breaks.

Tommy’s grainy voice breaks into the air through a megaphone, “Thirteen-and-up three-legged races starting in five minutes, this is your last call. Grab a partner and make your way over to the east lawn,” he says. “Again, this is the last call.”

Joel and Ellie already happen to be seated at a picnic table that gives them a perfect view of the race setup and Tommy facilitating in an orange vest of his own. Ellie had already worked through her first honey cake and was eyeing Joel’s. He pretends not to notice until she looks up at him all wide-eyed.

“Can I—” he slides his plate over to her. “Thanks.”

“Your eyes are bigger than your stomach,” he lightly accuses, shaking his head.

“What does that even mean?” She takes a bite. “Weirdo.”

Joel just grumbles and tosses a napkin her way. She wipes her mouth and keeps staring at him. Not because she’s waiting for an answer, but because there’s amusement sparkling in his eyes. Which happens more often now that they’d had a couple months to settle into Jackson. A laugh was coming, she could feel it.

“Quit gawking at me and eat.” There’s a tell-tale waver in his voice.

“No.” Ellie lightly kicks his shin beneath the table and that’s what sets him off.

He tries to bite back a chuckle, but he gives in when it doesn’t work out, shoulders shaking. Ellie starts grinning at him from across the table, and he kicks her back with the tip of his boot.

“Hey!” She breaks into giggles and retaliates. He lets her have the little victory.

A small smile lingers on his face when he regains his composure. They sit in a comfortable silence as Ellie finishes the rest of her dessert, taking in the festivities around them.

It isn’t long before a girl with dark hair approaches their table. She’s a ball of masked nerves. “Hi,” she greets. “Ellie, right?” She says it as if it’s possible for her to have forgotten. As if after they sat together at last week’s movie night, she hadn’t been thinking about her since.

Ellie get’s uncharacteristically squirmy. “Oh. Hey, Dina.”

Joel can’t believe it.

Dina tucks a flyaway behind her ear. “My old partner bailed, so I was wondering if you’d maybe wanna do the three-legged race with me. I think we’d make a better team anyways.” Then she glances at Joel. “If you wouldn’t mind me stealing her away for a bit.”

“Take her,” Joel quips, making Dina laugh.

Warmth rushes to Ellie’s cheeks as she stands. “Sure, let’s go.”

The two of them jog over to get prepped for the race. Joel watches the whole while, warmth kindling in his chest at the fact that she was slowly finding her tribe. The race doesn’t start for another couple minutes, and when it does, Ellie and Dina burst off into first. It’s intense. The whole ordeal is a mess of laughter, stumbling, and flailing limbs. In the end, the duo end up placing second, crossing the finish line only to fall into a heap of giggles with their legs tied together.

Joel stands from the picnic table with a grunt to throw away all the empty plates. He has every intention to sit back down, but notices a few frazzled volunteers carrying mops and towels. Then his eyes rove over to the long line standing at the drink stands. Adults check their watches, children fidget. A woman in an orange vest is talking to another woman managing the stand. He doesn’t realize is you until you turn away from her and beeline towards the community center, looking stressed.

“Hey,” he calls out to a stout man wearing an apron. “Do you know what’s going on?”

He’s surprised Joel caught on. Everyone else was carrying on as usual, carefree and unaware. “There was a spill at the community center. You know Mr. Robertson’s special Summer Fest punch?” he asks in a thick Brooklyn accent, Joel nods because he’d heard the rave. Apparently it was made especially for the festival. “Kitchen’s flooded with it. I didn’t have time to build an ark,” he jokes.

Joel wrestles with himself. “I’ll go see if I can help.”

By the time you exit the community center, gaze fixed over your shoulder, you crash into Joel. He instinctively reaches out to steady you, touch firm but gentle. “Whoa, easy there.” The low timbre of his drawl is enough to draw your mind away from all the noise. “You alright? Here, let’s get out of the way.” You let him pull you aside by your elbow.

When you look into his eyes, there’s so many things you wish it was the appropriate time to say. It’s been cordial between the two of you, but it always seemed like he was in a constant state of backing away, like an animal scared of giving into a primal craving.

There was always a reason why he couldn’t stay in your presence longer than he did. He had to get back to Ellie, or turn in early for his patrol shift the next day, or some other excuse. Even during the game nights you hosted, he would always leave before his belly was full and the real fun was about to begin. When everyone was finally free of the day’s worries and truly ready to talk, laugh, and let everything ride on the toss of a dice.

He’d resigned himself to enjoying you in the little here and there, the moments in between. So much so that even Ellie had begun to notice. It was in the way he never allowed himself to lean in too close whenever you were at his side. Or never fully crawled out of his shell no matter how many times you smiled sweetly or let your fingertips brush his forearm.

“Does anything hurt?” He asks more intently. As he scans you over, he notices your clothes. The lower portion of your vest and the thighs of your flared jeans are stained with a wet, dark substance.

“I’m fine, Joel.” You pull away from him with more force than necessary, feeling guilty for the way he swallows and takes a step back. “Sorry.” You release a heavy exhale, tears welling in your eyes with a dull sting. “I’m ruining everyone’s night.”

Joel frowns. “No you’re not. Tell me what happened.”

“I was trying to transfer the extra beverage dispenser onto the wagon so I could wheel it out to the drink stand, but it slipped out of my grip,” you explain. “The lid came off and the punch spilled everywhere.” You wipe your tears away quickly, as if they’ll stain too.

“Accidents happen,” Joel’s tone is steady like scripture, tenderness peeking through just enough to cling onto. “Everybody’s fine. The world's still turning.”

Nobody had reacted in an extreme manner. There were gasps and startled jumps, but assurances came rushing in as the janitorial volunteers insisted that they’d get everything cleaned up. Everyone in that kitchen knew that there were worse things in life than spilled juice. Sure, it was upsetting, considering the time Mr. Robertson spent and the people looking forward to drinking more, but it was a small mistake in the grand scheme of things. But when your heart is already heavy and your mind is tangled with other concerns, those little mishaps feel like the most devastating ones.

There was a directness about Joel, though, that eased away the guilt crawling beneath your skin. It was like he understood what screwing up truly was and this was many light years from it.

Dina spots Joel in the distance and points him out to Ellie. “There he is over there.”

Their smiles fall from their faces when they get closer and realize you’re crying. “Holy shit, what happened?” Ellie looks between you and Joel, worry etched onto her face.

“I just made a stupid mistake.” You sniffle, trying to regain your composure, not wanting to worry them. There was always something unavoidably daunting about seeing adults cry.

“You girls stay here with her for a second. I’ll be right back,” Joel instructs.

A new song starts up by the live band that’s playing. It’s an instrumental rendition of Every Breath You Take. A decent crowd has gathered, nibbling on sourdough and nodding to the melody. Some people are wrapped in each other’s arms. Joel soaks it all in as he navigates back to the racing lawn.

Tommy claps him on the back when he makes it and Joel returns the gesture. “You enjoying yourself, man?” Tommy asks.

“Yeah,” he says distractedly. “There was a spill at the community center, so no more punch. You think you can get everybody on the same page?”

“Copy that.”

Tommy’s voice carries through the megaphone as Joel makes his way back to you, the announcement fading with each step.

“Howdy, folks. Some of you may have already heard, but in case you haven’t, there’s been a little spill and we are unfortunately all out of Mr. Robertson’s world famous punch for the night. We apologize if you didn’t get the chance to try it, but I promise we’ll figure out a way to make it up to y'all. In the meantime, I heard the lemonade and ice tea ain’t half bad.”

His words blur into the background as Joel makes it back to you. There are a few disappointed groans, but nobody is completely devastated by the news. They keep carrying on just as he knew they would.

Tears no longer streak your face when Joel makes it back, Ellie and Dina seeming to have lifted your spirits a little more.

“Do you wanna go get cleaned up?” Joel suggests.

Now that you’re thinking about it, the feeling of your clothes sticking to your skin is beginning to grow uncomfortable. You take a deep breath at the thought of walking home, away from Summer Fest, all the energy, all the fun. Joel sees the disappointment on your face.

“I can go with you,” he offers.

•••

The walk to your house is quiet, the sounds of the night's festivities now distant. The porch steps creak gently under your weight as the two of you ascend them. Joel watches as you unlock the door, but finds himself cemented as you step inside. Confusion, appreciation, frustration, and want are all amalgamated into one look directed right his way. Without saying a word, you head further inside, leaving the door open.

Joel’s hands twitch at his sides like he’s a live wire wrought with energy. Bugs would fly in if he didn’t do something—that’s the justification he creates. You’re halfway to the laundry room when you hear the front door shut behind him as he follows after you.

The living room is illuminated by dim lamplight as he walks through. A quick glance into the kitchen gives him sight of one of Ellie’s more recent drawings stuck to the refrigerator door with a smiley face magnet. It's a portrait of your face that you agreed to sit for one lazy afternoon while Joel was away on patrol.

The air smells like you. Understated and sweet, floral and earthen. Small plants line multiple windowsills despite how convinced you were that you couldn’t keep anything alive. The whole commune would be worse off without you and he’d be the first to wilter away.

At the sound of a zipper and clothes brushing against skin, he stops his pursuit of you. Miles away even though you’re mere yards apart. All he has is your shadow, dancing in the dim light pooling out of the laundry room and into the hall with him. He backs himself into the cool wall and closes his eyes, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. Up and down and up again. An SOS in the middle of a sea when salvation was right within reach. It gets quiet after a while. No more running water, or cabinet doors, or shuffling around.

“You can let me in, you know?” comes your voice, so light it’s almost nothing. Joel releases a shaky breath and opens his eyes to the sight of you, dawned in old shorts and a graphic tee. You wish he would say something, anything. Share a fraction of what’s going on in his mind. “I’m right here, Joel.”

“I know. I see you.” There’s a defensive edge to his voice that’s wounded around the edges, as if he’s trying to accommodate the truth that burns within his ribcage, his stomach, beneath the entirety of his skin.

“So now what?” You swallow your nerves, studying his face, his neck. “We’re just gonna keep seeing each other for the rest of our lives and that’s it? No knowing, no feeling, no experiencing?” You ask. “No loving?”

One by one, the walls close in, until it feels like you’re standing toe to toe with nothing but words as weapons and honesty being the only way out. It’s not a fight he’s ready for. He can trek through the harshest winters, fight off monsters and all manner of men, but he’s defenseless in front of you.

There will be no victory, no rising from battle with a bloodied fist or blade, or immediate relief akin to the coming of spring. The only way out is to dig within, and he already knew what resided there. It was a matter of carving it out and laying it on an altar for you to see as you did the same. It’s not a fight at all, it's a sacrifice. All risk with probable reward.

“I don’t want that to be all that we do.” You’ve never heard Joel speak so quietly. It’s as if there’s Infected lurking nearby and he doesn’t want to be devoured. “Think about you too much.”

“I was starting to think you didn’t like me at all. Not like how I like you,” you say.

Joel swallows thickly, warm all over. “How do you like me?”

You push out of the laundry room doorway to step closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his chest, feeling the warmth beneath his shirt, the beating of his heart. You let it thrum against your palm until a shallow breath slips past his lips, then you move to cup his stubbled jaw, lightly brushing your thumb over his lower lip. The urge to touch you back grows so great that he finally gives in and lets both of his strong hands settle on your waist.

Joel can hear his heartbeat in his ears as he leans in towards you, studying your face, searching for any sign that this might be some elaborate ruse. Instead, he finds something so poignant that he doesn’t have the words to define. It’s as terrifying as it is wonderful to, for once, be unable to size up what he’s up against.

You close the space in between you with a softness that takes his breath away. Bared heart meeting bared heart. Joel’s lips are gentle and unhurried, every second savored and not a single one missed. You try to focus but it feels like you’re falling and flying all at once. Then his fingers dig into your waist a little harder, a silent plea to stay there with him, the warmth of his kiss, the firmness of his body as he pulls you closer.

Your hands find their way to the back of his neck to play with the hair curled at his nape. The kiss deepens not in urgency but a shared understanding. A promise sealed in the way your bodies fit together. And then, slowly, Joel eases back, lips lingering on yours for a heartbeat longer until a slight space forms between you. Your breaths mingle as he rests his forehead against yours, thumb stroking tender circles on your waist.

When you open your eyes, he’s already looking at you, wondering if you can feel that two worlds having converged into one, buzzing with a newness that’s as beautiful as all the words you’d kept bottled inside.

•••

It hadn’t taken much. Just a hug and a few soft kisses pressed to the underside of his jaw. When Joel’s grumbling finally subsided, it made way for the soothing ripple of the river. You’d settled along the bank and stretched out a few blankets when you first arrived. An hour seemed to pass in the matter of a few seconds, laughter, conversations and all. Now the sun creeps closer and closer to the horizon up in the ombre sky.

It wasn’t any fault of your own that you’d asked Joel if the date could extend a little longer. It’d been a month of getting to see him in this light, open and unguarded, generous with giving those slow, easy smiles. Willing to lay down across your lap like this when you asked sweetly enough.

The small mouth of a fish breaks the surface of the water as you trace along his hairline, disappearing by the time you run the pad of your finger down his nose. His lips twitch as he continues to ward off sleep. This time, there’s no stopping a soft laugh from rising up your throat. That’s all it takes for his eyes to flutter open, blinking until they’re able to focus on the soft upturn of your lips. No sooner do they avert to the sky, assessing the fleeting light.

“We gotta head back now,” his voice is gruff. When he moves to sit up, you place a delicate hand on the center of his chest and he settles back down with a sigh. “C’mon, sweetheart, the sun’s setting. I don’t want you out here in the dark.”

Packing up and riding back to the commune meant this moment would be resigned to a memory. “A few more minutes won’t hurt,” you insist.

Before Jackson and before you, every second was about enduring to the next. Life was an endless onwards, onwards, onwards reverberating through his veins. Slowing down was always a risk until you showed him that sometimes life’s most worthwhile moments were in the stillness. Somedays that was easier to remember than others, but he sure did put in an effort.

“I think you’re enjoying this more than I am anyways,” you tease. The corners of his lips quirk upwards before he can stop them.

You continue on like that, tracing his face, occasionally glancing up at the snow-capped peaks of the mountains. Then an animal catches your attention across the way, lean and tall with short antlers protruding from its head. You suck in a breath of pleasant surprise, and Joel startles upright thinking the worst. His shoulders relax when he sees the creature. It bends its neck down to nibble at something in the grass until deciding to gallop away.

“Just a mule deer.” He gives you a look.

“I know, sorry. I get excited.” You offer an apologetic smile and he's reminded of how beautiful you look in the light of the setting sun, features aglow. He doesn’t say anything, just soaks you in here and now. An airiness fills your chest.

He stands with a groan, extending a helping hand back down to you. When you’re steady on your feet, he takes your chin in one gentle hand and tilts your head back so he can align his lips with yours. The kiss is brief, and he follows it up with a soft peck.

“Will you let me take you back home now?” he questions. “Ellie’s gonna have our heads if we’re late for game night. Especially when she’s choosing the line up.”

•••

No heads roll that night. Plenty of dice do, while Uno cards are slapped onto the coffee table, and Jenga blocks fall. Tommy, Maria, Dina, and your uncle Nate, eventually file out of Joel’s house, leaving the three of you alone. Ellie feigns sleep on the couch as soon as it’s time for cleanup, and dozes off for real as you and Joel start taking care of everything yourselves.

He steps up behind you as you’re standing at the kitchen sink, snaking his arms around your middle. A curious hum rises up your throat as you lean back into him.

“I think somebody cheated during Jenga tonight,” he hushes against the shell of your ear, relishing the way you shiver at the warmth of his breath.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Joel noses at the back of your head. “So you weren’t the one touchin’ me during that last round?” he asks. “Scratching my back, squeezing my thigh.”

“It was innocent,” you insist. “It's a stressful game, I was just trying to ease your nerves. How was I supposed to know your hands would get all shaky?”

A sudden chuckle shakes his chest, sending a ripple of warmth through you. “Ease my nerves? We weren’t even on the same team.” His fingers squeeze your hips in quick, gentle pulses, making you arch into him in a spell of helpless giggles. Joel evades your attempts to grab his wrists, but shows you mercy when you turn around, looking up at him through your lashes like you could do no wrong.

“You’re lucky I happen to like you an awful lot.” He places both hands on the counter behind you, effectively caging you in.

You smooth your hands up his chest, admiring the soft lines by his eyes, the handsome bump of his nose. “I know. I’m the luckiest person alive.”

“No, that’s me,” Joel whispers.

He’s certain of it.

Thank you so much for reading. I’d love to hear your thoughts, it’s my favorite thing.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x fem reader smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x y/n #slow burn #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal

2K notes · View notes

viperify · 4 months ago

Text

oneshots | ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⏦ﾟ♡︎ Best Friends, Right?

Short Summary: Mattheo’s been distant for a while. Your best friend now doesn’t even bother speaking to you. Perhaps a party and a little bit of alcohol can change that.

Warnings: 18+ only! drunk sex, begging, unprotected p in v, creampie, Mattheo and reader both are oblivious fucks, make-up sex

A/N: change of scenery—Mattheo Riddle. (Going back to Tom as we speak)

wordcount: 2,4k

You aren’t entirely fond of the idea of going out tonight. You have never been.

But today, after your exam week had just ended—you couldn’t come up with any more excuses which you were certain your friends knew to be blatant lies.

You have gone through your entire closet. Twice. Even three times. Haven’t found anything fitting. Until—you spot something you were given for your 18th birthday which has since been collecting dust at the very back of the closet. A glittery red mini dress, outrageously short, probably too short for a Slytherin house party.

A deep sigh falls over your lips. You don’t have anything else, not here at Hogwarts at least. So you put it on. As you look at your reflection in the mirror, finishing off by applying mascara and some blush, you hesitate. It most likely wasn’t a good idea to walk around like this.

You aren’t given much of a choice, though, because just a split second later, the door to your dorm falls open, three of your friends—already somewhat tipsy—entering while singing a muggle song picked up last time you snuck out to visit London.

You are immediately dragged out of your bathroom, showered with compliments on your appearance. And when you do try to voice your concerns—they are cut off right away. They insist on you coming along, not giving you much of a choice before they hand you a matching purse to your dress and pull you after them in the direction of the Slytherin common room.

You shiver. It’s quite chilly in the dungeons, so you are somewhat relieved when you finally enter the party, already crowded with people. They ask what drink you want, and initially you tell them you would just take something non-alcoholic, but again they insist you finally “have some fun” after spending days on end in your dorm, always studying and never giving yourself a break.

You really aren’t a person to give into peer pressure, but for some reason today, you agree without much further complaint. They are probably right that you do need some time off. Turn your brain off for the night, just let yourself go.

So when they come back and hand you a pink cocktail, you take your first sip. The alcohol instantly floods your senses. You haven’t drunk in so long.

Rationing it as much as you can, you briefly slip away from your friends at some point, which they, in their state, don’t even seem to notice.

You take a few deep breaths as you lean against the railing of the balcony, staring into the distance of the night sky. Earlier, years ago, you used to sit here with Mattheo when both of you snuck out to meet at your favourite spot. He always made time for you.

You exhale deeply, the cloud of your breath dissolving into the crisp winter air.

Once inseparable, you two now rarely spend time. You’ve been dying to ask why, why he avoids you. Answering in short, clipped sentences, never even looking at you when you initiate a conversation. It’s been tiring. Seeing your childhood best friend change, replacing you with someone else. Replace might be the wrong word for it—because you did love Theo and the others too. Just—less. It wasn’t as special. And up until recently—you had thought he felt the same.

You decide to not let these thoughts impact your mood any further, returning to the party soon after. It’s almost too dark and crowded to spot anyone in particular, your friends long gone from the spot you left them in. It would be quite difficult to find them again, so you decide to make your way through the crowd, into a corner where you’d have a better overview of the situation.

Just having made your way halfway through, your eyes lock onto someone familiar. Too familiar.

Mattheo stands there, calm and collected as always, a glass of firewhiskey in his hand. Theo stands next to him, whispering something in his ear, subtly nodding towards a girl. But Mattheo doesn’t seem to be paying him any attention as his eyes drift elsewhere—to you.

In this moment you wish you could have just evaporated into thin air. You don’t want to see him, not right now, you don’t need another reminder. And as much as you want to move away, keep looking for your friends—you find yourself rooted in place. Your legs are not cooperating with your brain.

He just stares at you for what feels like an eternity, his hot gaze steadily dropping lower, skimming over your exposed cleavage down to the curve of your hips, wandering over your bare thighs before they travel back up. And then that bastard grins. Subtly at that, but just enough for you to see it.

At this point your entire body feels like it’s on fire—and you don’t know why. The way he looks at you shouldn’t matter this much, it shouldn’t make you feel this way. Like he wants you equally as much as you want him. You’ve been thinking that this might be the reason as to why he doesn’t talk to you—he might have caught on. Realised you have somewhere along the way developed feelings for him. Of course he wouldn’t reciprocate.

Only when Theo elbows his side does he avert his attention, eyebrows furrowing as he rubs his ribs, quickly followed by being dragged into the crowd, supposedly to the bar. Or to find a girl to fuck.

They used to do it that way—when you were still close.

To your relief, you don’t see him anymore after this encounter.

And you down one or two more cocktails.

Just in case.

For the—you hope unlikely—event you would see him again. Which turns out to be a good decision after all.

Slightly after 1 am, when the crowd thins out as people start leaving—you sense someone walking up to you from behind.

“You here?” A familiar voice whispers in your ear, and when you turn around, you are met with your once favourite brown eyes. “Thought you didn’t like parties.”

You huff slightly. “I guess I wanted to confirm it once more.”

His eyes wander again, and you instinctively pull at your dress. It really is short.

“You look gorgeous today,” he drawls, and suddenly he is so close you can smell the alcohol in the air. Too fucking close. Your breath catches in your throat as you take in every detail of his oh-so-familiar face, the scar on his nose you have traced your finger over countless times, his beautiful, long eyelashes, his dark, messy curls you used to twirl around your finger as he lay on your lap…

But he is drunk. That’s why he is talking to you. Not because he wants to. Sober Mattheo would have ignored you the entire night, you think to yourself.

“You are drunk, Mattheo.” You point out coolly, and he goes silent for a second as though he were reconsidering ever talking to you in the first place. You fully expect him to leave at that point, but instead, his lips curl into a smirk.

“So? Can I not tell my best friend she is pretty?”

A scoff leaves your lips faster than you’d have liked.

“Best friends usually talk to each other more often than just at parties, Mattheo.”

He nods. “I see. So, let’s talk.”

His hand wraps firmly around your wrist, pulling you after him. Exiting the Slytherin common room. Heading in the direction of his dorm.

Mattheo almost trips over his own feet on the way multiple times, and if it wasn’t for you, he would have earned some bruises from his clumsiness. He is more drunk than you thought he was.

As soon as you enter the dorm, you disappear into his bathroom and reemerge with a glass of water, handing it to him. He looks at you with a raised brow but drinks it nonetheless.

You don’t intend on sitting down. You want this to be over with as quickly as possible. You’d have preferred if he had just told you back at the party. You could have had faster access to alcohol that way.

After a minute of gathering his thoughts, he finally speaks up, getting up from his bed and carefully stalking towards you.

“You know why I’ve been distant? He asks, stopping right in front of you, his eyes locking onto yours. “Because you do something to me. You make me feel something I haven’t quite been able to place.”

He pauses briefly. Studying your facial expressions.

“Until a few hours ago.”

You tilt your head slightly, cocking an eyebrow. “What are you saying?”

“That I am— in love with you. Fucking hell, I love you, alright?” He pinches the bridge of his nose and turns away, striding back towards the bed.

Oh.

Fuck, you two are idiots.

“Mattheo.��

He just rambles on. “If you don’t, it’s fine. I expected you wou—“

“Mattheo.”

You quickly follow after him, spinning him around to crash your lips onto his. He doesn’t kiss you back at first—simply because he hadn’t expected it. He expected anything but this.

But when he does—it quickly grows hungry, passionate, his hands finding their way to the back of your head, tangling in your hair as he keeps you in place, keeps you from pulling away. And both of you savour this moment. Fuck, you had missed his touch. Missed him. Missed your Mattheo.

“I love you too,” you confess, drawing in a deep breath as you finally part.

His lips are puffy and red, and although it’s hard to believe—he looks even better like this. Mouth slightly parted, dark curls a mess, eyes darkened with lust.

Lust.

If you weren’t drunk right now, your brain would try to rationalise, stop to think, think about the consequences of what was about to happen—but you aren’t used to alcohol clouding your mind. You can’t rationalise, much less even want to.

So when his hands wander up your back, finding the zipper to your dress—you don’t complain. Fuck, you wanted this.

Mattheo’s quick, tugging the zipper down, leaving your dress to pool at your ankles, sucking a mark into the skin of your neck before he takes a step back, appraising you.

Something flashes in his eyes. Dark, dangerous.

“Best friends, right?” He mutters under his breath, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He’s quick to rid you of the lace still adorning your curves, your hands in the meanwhile working at his trousers.

“Best friends.” You nod, breathless.

As soon as the fabric drops to the floor, his lips are back on yours, having you walk backwards until you lay on his bed, positioning yourself in the middle of the soft mattress.

He’s hovering over you mere seconds later, carelessly discarding his shirt somewhere on the other side of the bed.

You can’t help but moan softly when his lips trail kisses from your jawline all the way to your clavicle, fingers gently tugging on his brunette curls.

“Are you sure?” Mattheo asks then, meeting your eyes to find any hint of uncertainty.

You nod eagerly. “Yes.”

You barely get the word out before you feel him slip between your folds, gathering your arousal before he aligns himself with your entrance, thick and hot, and all of a sudden you weren’t so sure if you could even take him.

“Been dreaming ‘bout this pussy for too fucking long,” he slurs, and then, with one singular, sharp thrust, he buries himself in your cunt, momentarily knocking the breath from your lungs at the sudden intrusion. He stills for a moment, letting you adjust to the rather painful stretch on your walls as he feels you tense beneath him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he growls as you clench around his cock, and then he starts to move, slowly at first, dragging his length out of you before pushing back inside. It’s slow, torturously slow, as though he was scared to hurt you.

Your nails dig into his back, hips bucking to meet his thrusts. “Please, Mattheo, I need you.”

That’s all it takes. He speeds up, angles his thrusts just right, brushing over a particularly sensitive spot inside of you that makes your head spin in pleasure. He groans and whimpers, praises you for how well you are doing for him.

His hips snap against yours like he’s got a point to prove, making up for the time you two had lost. You feel something building in the pit of your lower stomach, a pressure that grows with every thrust, until it’s there, on the verge of exploding.

“Yeah, want to come?” He pants, his breath hot and ragged. “Show me how bad you need to come.”

“God, Mattheo, please. I need to come—“ you whimper, cut off by his lips meeting yours.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Sound so pretty when you beg for me.”

Mattheo seems to know exactly what you need because he reaches between the both of you, rubbing tight circles on your swollen clit, and you moan in response. He’s pushing into you mercilessly, walls clamping down around him, your entire body tensing when your orgasm crashes over you in tidal waves, legs trembling as they are wrapped around him.

“Princess, fuck, can I come inside? Mattheo groans against your neck, thrusts growing ragged. “Please let me come inside.”

You manage a shaky yes for an answer, his hips stuttering against yours as he spills himself deep inside of you, coating your walls with his release.

He collapses on top of you then, breathing heavily.

It takes several minutes for him to regain his composure. He lifts himself off you, cradling you in his arms afterwards and placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I will make it right, darling. Treat you the way you deserve.”

“I know you will,” you whisper, placing a kiss on his exposed chest before you drift off to sleep.

thank you so much for reading! <3 feel free to reblog and leave feedback! :3

—

masterlist. | oneshots.

#tom I didnt cheat I swear #ᯓᢉ𐭩 ᴍᴀʀ’ꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ✎ᝰ.ᐟ #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle fanfic #mattheo riddle fanfiction #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader smut #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle imagine #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin #harry potter #dividers by strangergraphics

1K notes · View notes

dilf-docs · 8 months ago

Text

The Rock N' Roll Got Harder and Softer

eddie brock x younger fem!reader

summary: common sense isn't really your strongest suit. so here you are, riding a stranger's bike on halloween night. hey, he saved you! with one hell of a costume, no doubt. because it has to be one, right?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (do we see the blog name? get used to it), smut, flirty reader! she's got no shame just game ++ also overshares (sorry if this trait is mischaracterizing you, everything will be okay❤️) praise kink, oral f. receiving (have u seen that tongue? ik its abt eddie but venom's tongue plays a part there... he defo going in my hear me out cake), does this count as sub!eddie idk?? the man is touch starved, p. in v. (use protection okay!! don't be like these dumb horny bitches), reader gets harrassed but the lethal protector saves the day!!

word count: 5,008 words

side note: i was re watching venom 1 and watching venom 2 since my friends want to see the third, so i got the tom hardy and his plump princess lips have to be mine virus!! like i wish i was kidding but after watching the movies and the top 100 dilf poll on twitter i felt in the need to use my hands (iykyk) ++ after finding out i have a pattern for lonely fucked up dilfs (first with old man logan now eddie). also, irdgaf halloween just passed; let's pretend ur calendar got stuck on the 31st as u read. this can happen after venom (2018) but the time isn't really important!

This is stupid.

It's a cold october night, the wind blowing in your face, and you're navigating this part of the neighborhood you don't know in nothing but a skimpy red bathing suit, like it's a hot summer day.

Dressing up as Pamela Anderson in Baywatch sounded much better a couple months ago; not now, when all the people passing by ogle your body up and down, whether it be with lust or judgment.

Your night has gone to shit: you feel cold, hungry, tipsy and vulnerable. One thing is wanting to be objectified by the possible candidates you would take home from the party, and other is being eyed by strangers who look at your body like hungry wolves.

You finally spot a mini-market amid the packed street, blue hues of light providing some sense of relief.

After getting something to drink and eat, you'll probably feel better and have the energy to walk home; there's no way you and your very small costume are getting inside an uber at ten o'clock tonight.

The bell chimes in as you enter the store, but the lady behind the counter doesn't even glance your way, focused on the TV behind her.

"Hi" she waves her hand absentmindedly, "Do you have any water?"

She mutters something that sounds like an annoyed of course we do, and points to the freezer in the back, still without looking.

"Alright, thanks" you say, walking to the freezer section and grabbing a bottle you chug until it's almost empty. You're still hungry, but at least your throat doesn't feel like you've eaten sand anymore.

With the bottle in your hand, you take the time to scour around the store, looking for something to eat. You finally decide on some chocolates; heck, it's halloween. Going home and stuffing your face with a bunch of candy for what's left of the night does sound nice.

You finally spot the chocolates on a display, moving towards it. As you're about to grab a bunch and go, another hand interrupts you.

"Oh!" you exclaim out loud, stepping back.

Maybe you're haven't gone trick or treating in years, but you will treat yourself tonight. And not with the chocolates. There's a God out there, definitely, who has blessed you not only with great curves but also with the chance of showing them off in the precise moment.

"Sorry!" your voice chirps a bit too excited for your liking. Control yourself. You clear your throat, suspecting the burn in your cheeks gives you away.

You're supposed to be confident! Flirty and charming! You're young and pretty! But how can you not be nervous when the stranger looks like that?

The eye candy who sports tattoos and a bad boy aroma that makes you drool; the jacket and beat up look just adds the perfect layer to the whole vibe. You're known to have a preference for men who look like he does. Something about the dangerous makes your heart race and skin prickle. Then your eyes travel to the motorcycle helmet in his right hand. Yummy.

The heat in your cheeks returns.

You don't even know his name, yet you've oggled him up and down without shame. It's probably all the pent up energy you had saved for the party. You figure it has to be invested somewhere else. Maybe with him.

Him, who's way older than the other guys you've been with. But that just just makes it even better.

"It's okay" he speaks up, and his voice is not only what you imagined it to be. The rich grave undertone is making your panties wet just with the sound. "You go first"

He points to the stand full of said treats. You motion forward, not without putting some extra sway and effort in your walk. By the reflection of the mirror in the corner, you know you've at least got his attention.

"Done" you say, leaving some space for him to pass. "Would the gentleman give me the honor of knowing his name?"

"I'm Eddie" he extends his hand, "Eddie Brock".

You shouldn't be this excited to shake a hand but when his large palm engulfs yours, you find it hard to let go.

With the closeness, you take another look at his face, getting lost in his warm eyes and the eyebags that adorn them. It's unfair how good they suit him; unlike you after a wild night out.

"Nice to meet you. Very nice, indeed" you purr.

You also make sure to bat your eyelashes in a way your friends tease you but has proven to be effective every time.

It seems to have done its magic, because he also takes a look at you.

But it's different.

You can sense something else is happening when his eyebrows furrow first, then face contorting into a disgusted expression as Venom says: I want to eat her, Eddie. I bet she tastes as sweet as she sounds! It's too tempting!

"Shut up" he mumbles (but loud enough for you to hear), then mutters something like We're just supossed to eat the bad guys! but you're confused and hurt, so you don't really pay attention; your ego really taking a blow tonight.

"I beg your pardon?"

Eddie curses under his breath, "that wasn't for you".

"Right" you chuckle dryly, looking around at the empty store. "Don't see who else that could be for"

"I'm sorry, it's hard to explain" he rushes the apology, looking rather embarrassed. "Now, if you excuse me".

And walks past you like it's nothing. Maybe that weird spark you felt was just on you; the interest isn't mutual.

"Hi Mrs. Chen" you hear him salute the lady behind the counter. Sighing, you grab your chocolates and head to cash out, adding another deception to your already bad night.

The bell chimes again when you make your way to the line, behind Eddie, but this time, you don't bother to look.

"Well, hello" the voice behind you says. It takes you a few seconds to realize they're talking to you.

"Hi" you mutter a bit annoyed, looking at the front. The silence is dense, the beep of each of Eddie's (million) of chocolates being the only silence filling the store.

"Won't even spare a glance, doll?" they continue, despite your clear apathy. "C'mon, lemme see if that face is as pretty as your ass"

Blood rushes to your face, and you're so embarrassed your body stiffs, fully aware the other two people in the store have noticed. You hug your body, because there isn't really anything you can cover yourself with right now, not daring to look back.

Well, fuck me.

If you thought leaving the party was going to solve your problems, it's only proven to cause more.

Eddie finishes, leading to your turn. You give a strained smile to Mrs. Chen, and she just gives you a look of pity.

"Hey, I'm talking to you!" they start to get irritated, and you just pray they don't follow you outside once you're done. "Are you deaf, Pamela?" he mocks, making your blood boil and skin sweat.

Mrs. Chen is done, but the stranger isn't taking your silence as an answer. Before you can leave, they grab your hand.

"Already leaving? You haven't even given me your name yet"

It's such a silly thought to have right now, but you realize you hadn't given Eddie your name either.

"I don't know if you've noticed, but she's clearly not interested, buddy" a voice speaks out, and you know it. It's probably the panic but you hadn't realize Eddie's still here. You hold his gaze for a few seconds, and even thought you hate having to depend on a man to be left alone, you need his help; so you plead, boring into his warm chocolate eyes.

"In case you haven't noticed, this is a two people conversation" the stranger snarls.

"Looks more like a one sided conversation to me" he bites back, making the stranger mad. That's the last thing you need. You just want to go home and curl under your warm and soft blankets; you've even lost your appetite.

"It's none of your business. Are you not understanding?"

"Oh, but that's the problem. You're the one that isn't understanding" what appears to be black surrounds his before bare neck, and you feel like you haven't completely sobered up, your mind playing games with you. The black engulfs his whole body, making him taller and more intimidating.

"It is" he threats on a distorted voice. Now, where Eddie's face used to be, another one replaces him: with white instead of two eyes and a big mouth with teeth and a really long tongue.

You hadn't even drink that much. No way this is real.

The stranger gulps, petrified. Oh, so they see it too; it's not you.

"Sorry, idiot. The lifeguard shift is over" and before the stranger replies, his head dissapear inside the mouth, chopping it off.

"Fuck!" you curse out loud, the body falling limp at your side.

A shiver runs through your back. This is a nightmare.

"Well, now that makes us two who know your secret now" Mrs. Chen adds in a rather monotone voice, and you wonder if people have gone insane―you included.

You can't even speak. Less when the black starts dissappearing, and it's Eddie's face and body again.

"Hey, sorry about that" you don't know who Eddie is talking to when saying that. "You okay?"

Okay? Sure, that you are. Fine? Not really.

"It's alright if you're scared" he reaches out to you but you flinch. He looks used to it, apparently, "I know this is weird".

You chuckle, bemused. "Weird? Not even in my wildest acid trip, I could've imagine that"

"It's easy to explain, but hard to understand" he begins, but trails off. "Would you, uh, let me?"

Well, he had saved you. If he wanted to eat you and have you go the same fate your harasser did, he would've done it by now.

Besides, common sense isn't really your strongest suit. Never was. You've had so many problems stem from it, including tonight's events, that you could probably write a column or do a podcast of it.

"Sure" you agree, "as long as you don't eat me".

You regret the (attempt at a) joke as soon as it leaves your mouth, but that is gone when you hear him laugh. A little pride fills your chest, especially at the velvet-like sound.

"I won't" he raises his palms in a playful manner, "but he wants to".

Not anymore, you don't eat the people you save!

"He?" you quirk an eyebrow, "you better rush that explanation, yeah?"

"Sure" he chuckles, "uh?"

"Y/n" you answer, and the honeyed tone is back. God, you need to get a grip. This guy could snap you in, "but just for tonight, Casey Jean Parker. So you better put some good use to it before she leaves, cowboy"

"Will take it into account, blonde" he laughs at your hair.

You hate it because it reminds you of Anne, pussy.

"Hey, it's a good wig!" you playfully slap his shoulder. "You wish you had hair like this".

You flip it, to which he just laughs. Then he bids goodbye to Mrs. Chen and you both head outside, where the wind hits your body cruelly.

A curse leaves your mouth, "Shit"

Eddie notices. Before you can react, he's putting his jacket over your shoulders.

"You got the seasons messed up, baby" he jokes, the pet name rolling off his tongue a bit too easily, "don't even think about taking it off; don't want you to catch a cold".

There's a beat of silence before he asks:

"So, about the costume..."

"I know" you properly put his jacket on. It smells like him: pine, gasoline, sweat and a bit of chocolate. "It sounded better when I came up with it in August"

"No!" he corrects hastily, then coughs "I like it".

Light pink creeps up his cheeks.

"Good to know I still got the charm" you joke, winking.

"Was this" he points with his ringed fingers up and down, "for a contest?"

"No, a party. Jesus, how old do you think I am?" you chastise in a mocking tone. "It's what pretty college girls do, Eddie: party".

Venom likes parties! I like her, Eddie!

"And if that's what you do, pretty girl" two can play the game it seems, "what exactly are you doing out of the water, Ms. Parker?"

You scoff, shocked. "You're supposed to give me your answer first".

Fortunately for Brock, you have a bad habit to overshare; it gets worse, especially with men. God knows you don't know such thing as boundaries.

You lay against the concrete wall, exhaling. Your worries condense in front of you as Eddie waits attentively, examining the way your face falls.

"I was supposed to go to a party today, hence the costume" you motion to your body, "but things went wrong".

"So you went?"

"And left" you add, "which wasn't part of the plan".

He lays next to you, crossing his arms. You try not to get distracted with the closeness.

"Why did you?"

"Leave? Because... well, things happened".

Your skin prickles uncomfortably, like it did back at the house you ran away from―the whole reason you're here, next to Eddie.

"That thing being...?" Brock presses, then realizing you probably don't want to tell, so he shuts up.

"Don't worry" it's like you guess his thoughts, "It's just... sort of embarrassing".

You breathe in some air.

"He wasn't supossed to be there. My ex" you clarify, "yet he went. And guess what? With his new girlfriend! And alright, I'm not a girl who holds grudges, but it hasn't even been two months since we broke up and now he's matching costumes with her?"

Saying it out loud sounds a tad bit childish, but Eddie doesn't seem to be judging, and your pride continues to be bruised, so you carry on with your little rant.

"So I drank a little too much and went up to them. I don't know what took over me, but one second I was dancing and then Pamela Anderson in Baywatch was grabbing Pamela Anderson as Tommy Lee's wife by her hair. Real blonde hair, on top of that... that bitch. I decided to be Pamela Anderson first! Which, by the way, would never do that. She truly is a girl's girl" pause, "by that I mean parading around with the guy I ended things with because of you"

We should eat them.

Instead of what Venom said, Eddie asks:

"Your boyfriend cheated on you?"

"Yeah" embarrassment washes over you, "The owner of the house is friend's with her. So, I decided it was for the best to leave. My not so bright idea that followed was to walk to the nearest store for some junk and head home. And now I ended on this side of town I don't know. Lucky me"

Lucky us that found you.

"Wow" Eddie manages to muster after all your information dump and Venom's little comment, "they're idiots. I'm sorry".

"Thanks, but my night is still ruined" you take a look at your legs, "now I have to walk home, and I suspect, bare―without your jacket".

He doesn't know what takes over him when he says, or maybe it's Venom giving him the boost of courage he needs.

"Need'a ride?" your face morphs into surprise. He adds, "Keep my jacket. That way you can give it back when we're there"

Your eyes trail to the bike parked on the side, which you guess belongs to him. This is hard because the decision is so easy.

Hey, sometimes you gotta do it for the plot!

"We both win" is his way of insisting. "No more stares, and my jacket gets express delivered to me".

You don't need that much insisting, almost instantly caving in, walking over the bike and hoping behind him―like you know he'd never hurt you; full on trusting him.

"I don't have a spare one. Use mine" he apologizes, handing you the helmet he carried before.

"Thanks" you accept, "at this point I'll have to pay you. Do you accept my chocolates? It's all I got with me"

"We'll discuss those arrangements later" his deep voice comments, and well, you might just give him anything he wants!

Before you can regret your life choices, the engine roars, Eddie making his way through the street, all your surroundings reduced to a blur.

"Woah!" you shout, but it gets lost in the wind and speed. Luckily for you, the wig is secured inside the helmet. At this speed, there would be a blonde mop on the street somewhere.

"Liking it?" he asks over the noise. You only can happily humm in response.

Honestly, you've never felt this... free before. It's liberating: your hair dancing in the wind, the crisp trepidation in your fingers, the way you dare yourself to let loose and let the experience consume you. It's the first time you truly feel alive.

All you can think now is on the adrenaline coursing through your system. That and the way you're holding onto Eddie's thick back, your arms caging his form. You can feel his heartbeat too, as steady as yours. You can't help but wonder if it's because of the ride or the passenger he's carrying in the back.

You keep giving him directions whenever he looks back, keeping it like that until you both arrive at your apartment complex.

Once the bike is parked, he whistles. "Nice. Much better than mine"

You give his helmet back, taking the wig off in the process too.

"I'll have to see it to believe it" you tease, and if he heard, Eddie pretends not to.

There's some silence until you understand it's over: the original "stuffing and watching horror movies until I sleep" isn't sounding as good as extending your time with Eddie. For some reason, you can't seem to let go yet, and accept that tonight was a rare occasion that will only be once.

"Well, I guess this is it" you hate the way the obvious disappointment drips in your tone, "thank you, Eddie. Goodnight"

You hop off and take the jacket out of your body. If your skin gets goosebumps, you'll blame the cold.

Guess Pamela Anderson didn't work her magic tonight.

"Wait!"

Or maybe she did.

"Yes?" you turn around, smiling a bit too much.

Eddie doesn't look at you when he says, "we didn't discuss the payment"

Your red lips purse into a smile.

"We can discuss the details inside" and point out your apartment on the third floor, "for the cold, obviously. It's warm up there, you know; I've been told they like my heat"

You finally recognize the feeling from before, at the store. It's mutual. The tension; it still lingers.

"Sure" he says sounding all but that, "show me the way".

Your voice drops as you say, "Follow me, then"

And you lead the way: wet spot in between your legs, growing as your excitement. As you open the door, Eddie can't help but think the inside is so you: sweet and girly―like a strawberry bubblegum.

"Like what you see?" you joke, sitting in the couch. It has double meaning, obviously, but Eddie is so oblivious he just answers:

"It's so... you" mentally slapping himself when he says it, "I mean... you know, pink"

Idiot! She's talking about herself.

You giggle, "And?"

Patting the empty spot next to you, Brock walks over, like in a trance. You can see him gulp―nervous, the adam's apple on his throat bobbing.

Coward! Say something.

"Pretty..." he breathes out.

His hand finds its way to your bare thigh, and the touch is so electric, it takes you a lot not to jump at the contact.

Now kiss her!

"Don't be scared, Eddie" your voice is so low he swears he's dreaming. "I don't bite" there's a pause before you add, "unless you want me to".

Do it!

He would be lying if he said Venom is the reason why he leans forward, wrapping his lips around yours. Why he suddenly feels hungry, starving, eating your mouth out like he hasn't had a meal in days is beyond him.

"That's right" you moan between kisses, "cash your pay out, cowboy".

His hands tug on your hair as he deepens the kiss, a few groans echoing around the apartment.

"I like it" he twirls a strand in between your fingers, "suits you better".

There's a hearty laug emitting from your chest, "you do? Show me then"

It's like something snapped inside of him.

His hand moves to hug you from behind, right at the bare spot the swim suit had.

"You smell so sweet" Eddie's inhaling the vainilla scent off your soft skin, and Venom growls in pleasure, "like a pastry".

You have to laugh again, because this man is clearly touched starved.

Now he's rubbing his nose along the length of your neck, leaving some wet kisses that have you swearing his tongue isn't human. He mumbles incoherences like he's drunk, begging he wants to shove his mouth where it belongs: that being between your legs, to taste what he’s been craving for so long.

"Well, if you want it so bad" you make a play at his earlier words, "eat it".

So with trembling hands, he's pushing the little piece of bathing suit until your clit is exposed. His other hand grips your hip, and it doesn't take that long for him to fall onto his knees, the pink fluffly carpet on the floor providing some ground.

He beggins to toy with it, leaving you to collect a gasp. Alright! He has experience. Not that you ever doubted it, but now that he's here, his fingers inside of you, you can't help but feel the luckiest girl in the world.

"Thought the sweet you wanted was some chocolates" you manage to joke between moans, his thick fingers too busy lubing the needy area.

He gets another moan out of you, "this is better" grabbing a finger out, he licks a bit of your essence left on his fingers, "tastes much better. Look at you, so wet already; good girl"

Now he's doing tight little circles, his thick fingers speeding up the pace―quicker and quicker, until you're writhing in his grip. Your red nail dig into his forearm leaving little crescents. The haze may be too much that you don't know if the way they instantly heal is something you imagined or not.

"P-please, Eddie" you mewl.

Let me try, Eddie.

Without explaining, his tongue begins licking your inner thighs where your liquids dripped. It sends a shiver down your spine, and God, how thankful you are about leaving the party. The consequences of your petty fight and disastrous little adventure didn't end up being so bad.

"Sweet" he exclaims in that distorted voice back from the store. Your eyes go wide, so he rushes an "I'll explain later".

He doesn't give you much time to dwell on it before his tongue finds its way to your core again: the muscle licking the wet folds of your sensitive clit before diving fully. You swear his tongue has gotten longer with the way he explores your warm insides, quickly finding the spot no one but yourself has correctly pleased before.

Soft sobs fall from your lips. "Yes, More! P-please!"

His tongue continues its ministrations, almost lazily against it. Your body tenses up, reacting to him so well, and the familiar warmth pools in your abdomen.

He keeps licking until you’re twitching in over-sensitivity. A groan escapes his drooling lips, "I'm still a gentleman, you know?" the vibration his voice makes in between your legs sends a delicious wave that does nothing but ignite the fire pooling in the low of your stomach. "Ladies first"

You deliciously cum on his awaiting tongue. Even in your haze, you find his eyes, and the previous warm brown looks closer to hungry now, his pupils blown wide.

"Go ahead" you encourage, "be a good boy for me and taste it".

His fingers lick your remains off of them, his tongue making an obscene display.

"Will you let me pay you, now?"

He doesn't even need to wait, his hand eagerly taking his cock out of his pants―taking the sweat pants out in record time, sliding his girth between your legs, rubbing it against your folds that give him a warm welcome, coating it in your wetness.

Eddie slides inside you with ease, his hands resting on your waist as he slams his entire length inside you. The couch creaks, the only other sound in the apartment your hiss, because of the initial stretch. He gives you time to adjust and then he starts moving.

"Y/n, God. You pretty sweet thing" his hot breathe mumbles against your ear.

Never in your life you would've thought you'd gone home with a complete stranger, but by the way Eddie Brock is deep inside you right now, you may do it more often. Or even better, bring him back. Maybe meet his apartment next time.

Eddie thinks he's gone insane. He's never had sex like this before. Not even on his wildest dreams. Hell, doesn't know if it's the lack of activity before you, your filthy mouth dripping with moans or the way you perfectly wrap around him, or maybe his newfound stamina he could finally put to use, thanks to Venom. Maybe it's all that, but who cares? God, he's loving every second of it.

Eddie uses his hands to grab your ass, holding onto the soft flesh so firm, you'll have bruises tomorrow for sure. He starts pumping you fast and deep like an animal. You muffle your screams against the crook of his neck, fully aware that doesn't stop the paper thin walls from telling your neighbours the good time you're having.

You feel your moves start to get unsteady, your orgasm closer and closer. "I'm c-close" you blurt out and he growls instead of talking. The way your body jolts with each of his poundings is insane. Your friend will never let this go if you tell them. But it just feels so fucking good.

"Fuck!"

Your whole body shakes when the wave of pleasure heats you. His hand is suprinsingly soft, caressing your cheek as you rest your forehead against his to catch your breathe.

"That's the best sex I've ever had" he confesses, his voice sounding drunk. Every drop of alcohol in your system has completely vanished by now, but you feel dizzy too, the overstimulation driving your senses to it's limits.

But it doesn't make you stop.

"How can you rate something that hasn't finished?" you move your body so Eddie stays against the coach. When he realizes what you're trying to do, he half-supresses a moan. "If you want to give your opinion, you better finish the whole plate".

So now you're on top of him, riding his cock like nothing; you must also have a symbiote inside of you, because Eddie can't explain your infinite stamina. So young, so pretty and so goddamn tight; he really won tonight, huh?

The change of position makes his cock slightly change the angle, hitting your g-spot. "Oh my god, right here!" you gasp. Your pussy clenches while you keep bouncing on his dick. If it weren't for the bathing suit, your tits would be bouncing. That doesn't mean he doesn't imagine them, your nipples perking through the fabric making it all too easy.

"You're so perfect" he whispers against your shoulder, "you sweet little thing".

If he keeps calling you like that, you might ask him to stay the night.

You feel like it, so, as a reward, you press your lips against his and he moans at your cunt clenching. He knows you are close again.

"Cum for me, y/n" he demands in his deep voice. Your name in his lips is such an addictive sound, you're sure you've reached heaven.

"Cum with me, Eddie" you manage to say.

So now he sits a little straighter on your poor couch (that's seen and taken only so much) so he can wrap his other arm around your waist. You take him deeper every time, even if now the position makes it a bit uncomfortable, but every shiver of pleasure you get is worth it.

"At least look at me when you do it" his brown orbs bore into yours. You can't hold back any longer, your hips rolling to increase the friction.

Your second orgasm washes over you: toes curling and body shaking. You've never felt more tired and energetic in your life. So you fall in Eddie's strong tattoed arms. He joins you, painting your tight walls with his thick and white shots of cum.

You are both out of breathe but Eddie takes his time and kisses you deeply.

"I think this life guard is out of duty for now" you mumble sleepily against his arms, tracing lazily his tattoos. He chuckles, moving one of his hands to brush strands of your damp hair from your forehead.

"What about the chocolates?" he jokes.

"Fuck them" you yawn, "stay here". He might've heard it wrong.

Stupid Eddie and stupid little human brain. She wants us here!

After some minutes of silence your sleepy voice mumbles, "You didn't explain me anything, cheater. If you want to stay, talk".

He feels you rest your head on his shoulder, sleep taking control of your form. You look so cute, he starts to forget how shitty his life actually is.

Hey! I can hear your thoughts, idiot. Your life isn't shitty anymore, I'm here!

"How about a bed time story? I promise I won't leave any detail out"

You cuddle closer to his warm body, "Promise?"

He intertwines his pinky finger with yours, promising himself this won't be the last time he sees you.

"Promise"

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @badassbaker

#dilfistwrites #eddie brock #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock x you #eddie brock fanart #eddie brock imagine #eddie brock smut #eddie brock fanfic #venom #venom movie #venom symbiote #venom smut #venom spoilers #venom 3 #venom the last dance #marvel #marvel smut #pls excuse the filth<3

1K notes · View notes

kumkaniudaku · 6 months ago

Text

101

Summary: When Asia's in need of a few lessons regarding matters of the bedroom, her colleague and friend, Kelvin, offers his expertise.

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Warnings: Mature Content (18+)

Word Count: 5.5k

MASTERLIST

"So…you come here often?"

In a crowded bar tucked into a rapidly changing side of town, Asia sat perched on a barstool, listening to yet another potential suitor court her uninterested best friend. They always approached with unearned confidence, dropping some variation of the same tired lines only to be tossed back into a sea of misfit boy toys to make room for the next poor, unfortunate soul.

Sabrina loved the attention, though. At a statuesque 5 '10", she didn't mind being worshipped like Aphrodite and choosing her favorite from the litter until she was bored and ready for the next man up. Asia loved it, too. Watching men fall all over themselves in a way they'd never done for her was weirdly empowering. She didn't get to take home any of the night's trophies, but she did get to listen to the stories of every Tom, Dick, and Devante that passed in and out of her friend's life.

Barely interested, Sabrina sipped through a tiny black straw and regarded her latest contestant with tipsy indifference. "Not really. Why?"

"Uh…I don't know. Just, uh, just wondering?"

"Mhm. I'm drinking tequila." A loud slurp from liquid long evaporated from scratched glass filled with more ice than anything else brought the young man's attention to her hands and then back to her face. She offered him her best sweet smile and proposed, "Get me another?"

Asia had never seen a man getting absolutely nothing in return move so fast to wedge himself between a handful of patrons vying for the bartender's attention.

Sabrina let off a cackle loud enough to eclipse various pockets of chatter and music as she elbowed a laughing Asia. "That's, what, three for you tonight?" Asia asked, still swirling around the pity Jack and Coke she was gifted an hour ago. "One more, and you might get the record."

"Girl, I'm not drinking that shit. I'm supposed to be meeting Eric later tonight, and I can't be drunk like I was last time. It's been a month, and I need that."

"He's back from Portugal?"

"Fuckin' finally," Sabrina gushed. "I don't mean to be a 'my man, my man, my man' ass bitch about a nigga that is not my man, but…"

Sabrina didn't need to finish. Four years of their on-off whatever the fuck had been as much a part of Asia's life as it was Sabrina's. She'd been there for all the dates, all the late-night phone calls that pulled her friend away from plans, every blow-up and breakup, and the eventual reconciliation that would, once again, leave her as a lonely party of one. Unfortunately, she never got any of the fabled mind-blowing sex that came from their strange arrangement. Only the stories and the occasional video if Sabrina was feeling spicy.

Asia downed the rest of her drink along with the jealousy brewing in her chest and slid the glass across the bar for someone to collect later. "Well, hey, as long as you're happy." Happy was relative. She really wanted to say as long as you're willing to keep your business out of my bubble, but swallowed the thought before it could breach her lips. "Should I keep my phone off DND just in case?"

No immediate answer made Asia pause her casual scan of the room to look over at Sabrina, who'd all but buried her nose into her cell phone to grin at whatever was keeping her preoccupied.

She called out to her friend again. "Sabrina!"

"Huh," she sputtered out, snapping from her Eric-mania. "N-no, I should be good. We're on good terms. Or I'll just go to my sister's house. Did I tell you she moved? Oh, shit. Let me take this."

Sabrina didn't leave much time for objection, though Asia couldn't say she would offer any if given the chance. She was used to flying solo. She liked moving around the city as a lone wolf, looking for any cocktail lounge or off-the-beaten-path late-night spot to slink into and observe the happenings of 20 and 30-somethings looking for something or someone to get into before trudging home when daylight came back around.

The night was still young enough to hit up a cigar bar her old work friend Marcus had told her about. She didn't smoke, but the brown liquor was always smooth, and their food wasn't half bad.

While she sat trying to get the bartender's attention to close her tab, a presence at her side made themselves known with an accidental shove that nearly knocked her off balance.

"Gahdamn," she hollered, gripping the bar top for dear life to avoid starting a dangerous domino effect. Her mind didn't register the frantic apology from her newest enemy or the way he grabbed her waist to return her to a steady state. All she saw was his smile's familiar, gorgeous gleam when he realized who he'd bumped into just as his night was beginning and hers was coming to a close. "Kelvin?"

He slowly let go of her body and tried to appear taller than he was. "Good, I'm glad you noticed. Thought you might beat my ass. I know how you get down."

"I still should. What the hell are you doin' in here, and did they card you at the door?"

"Ha-ha. I'm a grown-ass man. Don't let the stature fool you." His fake laugh gave way to a real one shared between coworkers who cared enough about their jobs not to get fired but never enough for rapid advancement.

Life as a creative in a city where just about everyone was a "creative" had a way of uniting strangers from all walks of life. When Asia stepped into her new agency searching for exciting new clients and an actual team of people to see in the office a few times a week, she didn't expect to be accosted by the bright-eyed Associate Creative Director who had no business fraternizing with the project management team. But there Kelvin was, half-sitting on her desk with his Nike-clad foot swinging while he rattled off lunch spots within walking distance for them to check out once she was done with her first meeting with HR.

"You always this chatty," She asked while trying to make sense of her new Macbook.

Kelvin sported a mischievous smile. "Only with the other Black folks. We gotta stick together. There ain't but six of us, and two of them are married."

He quickly grew into one of her favorite people to see during the week while they worked side-by-side to meet deadlines and ward off culturally insensitive questions from well-meaning white folks trying to sell products to urban communities. She'd seen him be gregarious during long nights in the office filled with thumbtacks and beer from the bar cart. She'd also sat with him on Teams calls, saying nothing for some of the day while he quietly worked through lines to inspire consumers to do what they did best.

But she'd never seen him outside the strict confines of work culture. In public, they were free to cross the lines of office politics and show their true selves. Asia's true self included a departure from relaxed trousers and professional shoes to make way for short shorts and sky-high heels that accentuated a figure Kelvin couldn't help but notice.

His eyes slowly swept over her body while he finished his thought. "I'm in here because my boy just got his heart broken and needed some comfort. What you doin' in here? I ain't know Asia knew how to have fun!"

"Nah, I can have fun. I just don't like y'all like that."

"That is abundantly clear," he laughed. "You haven't had lunch with me in like two weeks. We got a problem?"

Asia chuckled at him, trying to press her while she pulled cash out of her purse to pay the bartender. "I knew you missed me. I've been busy. Kam's been on my ass about the Moet timelines, and I'm trying to slim down a little bit for my birthday trip anyway. I can't keep eating smash burgers with you three times a week." Kelvin listened as he lazily pushed her hand away as soon as he could reach it and replaced her payment method with his.

He lightly bit down on his bottom lip, trying not to look down at her legs again. "You definitely doin' that," he complimented, a flirtatious lilt thick in his delivery. "Make it up to me tonight."

"How?"

"Kick it with us. We won't be out that long." Kelvin used his head to gesture toward a table to people Asia assumed to be his friends. Two girls and three guys, leaving her to make the group even. He caught her trepidation and stepped a little closer so that she could see his face clearly under blinking strobe lights. "I got you. We can leave at any time if you want. Drinks on me."

Asia rolled her eyes. "I'm not askin' you to do that."

"You don't need to. I aim to please, love. C'mon."

Part of her wanted to refuse his invitation and use Sabrina as her scapegoat. After all, she did step out as one half of a pair.

Then, the other part directed her attention to the tall woman conspicuously making her way to the front entrance, her phone pressed to her ear, and an Uber waiting as her chariot to carry her away from the ball and to a man too shady to ever be a prince.

Kelvin stood awaiting her answer, his eyebrows doing a bit of a cha-cha as he made them wiggle.

Fuck it. "Alright. Start with a lemon drop, and make sure to introduce me as your favorite coworker. Really do your big one."

"Still demanding outside of the office. I like that." He bit his lip again, this time checking her out without shame. When she returned his brazen act with one of her own, he chuckled and flagged down someone who could really get the night going. "Aye, my man! Let me get something for my favorite coworker."

By the time he'd ushered her over to his group of way too cool art friends, Kelvin had dropped the coworker portion of Asia's title and shortened it to "my favorite."

They all sat huddled at a small booth in the back of the bar, nearly stacked on top of each other. It was Kelvin's idea for her to sit sandwiched between him and his homeboy, all but forcing her against his warm chest for any chance at comfort. It was his idea for the group to continue their conversation about sex and relationships even though it had fizzled to focus on a Black sitcom hierarchy debate. And it was absolutely his idea for him and Asia to hang back together once the other members of the group had set off to find comfort as pairs for the night.

She could only take credit for dropping the frills in their cocktails and settling for straight shots of her good friend, vodka.

Kelvin tossed back shot number he didn't know and let his mouth curl into a devious smirk while he watched Asia reapply clear lip gloss that caught the light just right. "You use dating apps, or you more of an organic meet-up type of lady?"

"I have profiles, but I can't tell you the last time I used one. And nobody is checking for me outside." Asia laughed quietly at the idea of someone approaching her for any reason other than asking for directions.

"What's so funny?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. That you think people are interested in me to the point that they're swiping right of whatever the fuck."

"So you just be on there for fun? Nothing is happening?" He scoffed to himself and plucked a lukewarm fry from a basket in front of him. "You're at least hooking up."

"I've never hooked up in my life."

Asia tried to rush past her drunk confession, tried to push away the words just as quickly as they'd entered the atmosphere, but Kelvin had already heard them.

He nodded, mostly to himself, then shrugged. "That's okay. Nothin' wrong with it. You waiting for marriage?"

"Fuck no," she scoffed. "I'm just waiting for someone nice enough to not make it weird. It's embarrassing enough being 30 and a virgin. Not really trying to make it weird by discussing it over appetizers."

"Like we doin' now?"

Asia laughed and finally took her shot while Kelvin watched her with the sheen of drunk thoughts clouding his eyes. He brushed her hair over her shoulder softly, his fingers lingering on her collarbone for a few seconds before he threw his arm over the top of the booth's seat and scooched lower, settling into a comfortable manspread.

"This is different. You're easy to talk to and not being creepy about it."

He nodded in understanding. "So somebody nice. What else?"

"I don't know. Somebody willing to teach and be patient. I'm a quick study. I just need the opportunity to learn somewhere safe." Vulnerability shared with a man she only kind of knew personally made Asia shrink in embarrassment as she rushed to clean up her verbal mess. "That's stupid to want, though. Nobody's trynna teach a grown woman how to fuck. I'm cool with missing out."

She'd started to try to cover her tracks so much that she didn't hear when Kelvin spoke back to her until the last words had tumbled from his lips in a broken sentence.

She doubled back. "Wait. What did you say?"

"I said I'll do it. I'll teach you."

"Teach me what?"

"How to fuck," he said so matter of fact that he sounded like he was talking about his grocery list or errands to run and not having sex. He continued despite the clear look of shock on Asia's face. "Only if you want me to. I'm cool either way."

"I-I mean…I don't…if you want. Maybe we shouldn't –."

He cut in and pointed at her shot glass. "You done or want another one?" Asia sputtered out that she'd had all she could drink in one night, and he nodded, reaching into his back pocket to pluck a credit card from his wallet's inventory. He tapped her hip to silently tell her to let him out, and she followed directions blindly for a reason she couldn't explain. Once he was standing, he looked down at her with a soft smile and kind eyes. "Just think about it and let me know. No pressure."

Asia didn't know what made her text Kelvin after work the following Thursday evening. All she knew was that he told her that his Friday was booked, but Saturday was all hers.

They agreed on him stopping by at 8:30 p.m., after anybody planning to go out had started their dressing routines and those intent on staying in had wrapped up any reason to leave the house and turned in for the evening. In her mind, that ensured none of her neighbors would see her bringing in a man clearly there for a singular purpose.

His prompt knock on her apartment door scared her even though she was the one who told him how to access guest parking, gave him a visitor's code, and told him her apartment number.

Wiping her sweating palms on her pajama shorts, she padded toward the door and took a deep breath before pulling it open.

He smirked when she came into view. "On the first knock? That's hospitable."

"Shut up," she admonished, though the joke had done its intended job and chipped away at building nerves. "And take off your shoes. There's fresh slippers in the basket if you need 'em."

Kelvin took Asia turning her back to him as an invitation to enter her apartment and to take a gander at the space he'd partially seen in meetings and their solo "work sessions."

Despite not being a hands-on creative, he could tell she had an appreciation for art. Reyna Noriega art prints and classic hip-hop album covers formed a gallery wall over her couch. A display of CDs that he had no idea people still collected sat stacked by a vintage boombox he was sure cost her a pretty penny. Potted monsteras and a well-loved fiddle leaf fig took up space beside a large window overlooking a bustling street below. It was clear she loved color from the maroon sectional in her quaint living room and the complementary pillows crowded in the corner he usually saw her sit in. He immediately recognized her desk and the lit 'on air' wall sign above it, making him feel like he knew something about her with the present situation carrying the kind of nervousness and uncertainty that typically came with first dates.

This wasn't a date, though. This was business—an agreement—a short-term arrangement for long-term success.

Asia cracked the seal on a fresh bottle of water before sliding it across the island to Kelvin, who took a generous sip from his spot in one of her barstools. She watched him intently as she stood on the other side, waiting for less abrupt words to populate her mind. They never came, and she couldn't stand the wait any longer.

She ran her hand up the back of her head to adjust flyaways beneath her fresh bun before speaking. "We should discuss a few ground rules…if that's cool."

"It's your world," he laughed. "I'm just here to help. By all means, go ahead."

Asia took a deep breath and then reached for her phone to navigate to the unnecessarily detailed note she spent the previous night typing out. "Okay. To start, I need to see your most recent test results, and they can't be older than three months from today's date."

"Cool," Kelvin shrugged, tapping at his phone screen before placing it back on the counter. "Those are from, like, two months ago. I can get you something more recent if that isn't enough."

A soft buzz in her hand signaled the delivery of his test results neatly packed in a PDF sent via iMessage, making her swallow a lump in her throat. Things were getting too real. She continued. "I'll…give those a look," she started, semi-impressed that he was keeping up with his health in that manner. "Next, no bondage or sub/dom play. I'm not into it. I haven't tried it, but I just know I'm not."

"Me neither. What's the next one?"

"We gotta use protection every time."

"Copy."

"No staying the night."

"I don't like it over here that much anyway."

Amusement tugged at Kelvin's lips while he watched her scroll further down her list. Deep brown skin. She had narrow hips that almost duped you into thinking there was no ass behind her. Strong thighs. A beautiful smile. A good head on her shoulders. Perfect lips. Pretty —

Kelvin blinked back into the present when he heard his name called. "Say that again. My fault."

Asia rolled her eyes and spoke a little louder. "We can't change our behavior at work. No one can know about this."

"Bet." He was so nonchalant all the time, so unbothered by the circumstances no matter the topic at hand. Deadlines didn't matter. Client gripes and regroup after regroup did little to deter him. He'd always shrug his shoulders under one of his many distressed hoodies and proceed unphased. Kelvin took another sip of water before answering the question he sensed in Asia's eyes. "I'm rolling off of the only work we share anyway, so we won't interact that much."

"Woah, how come?" Asia caught her reaction and tried to dial her sadness back a bit. "I mean, you're… you're not leaving, right?"

Kelvin flashed a toothy grin while adjusting the blue velour durag tied tight on his head. "Nah, I'm still around for now. I raised my hand to take on some pitch work for a challenge. I'm bored." He paused to turn his lips up in an accusatory pout. "You gon' miss me, huh?"

"Stop trying to distract me. Which brings me to my next rule: no kissing during sessions or otherwise. Let's try to keep this as platonic as possible."

"Oh, nah." The one rule Asia assumed Kelvin would accept with no pushback was the one that gave him the most pause. He twisted his face into one of instant disapproval. "I don't have sex with people I can't kiss or hang out with. I know it's just physical, but I still need to like you as a person. Nah. We gotta kiss. Go get some food every once in a while. Something. Nah."

He was adamant and unyielding in his need for physical and emotional intimacy despite their arrangement not being one meant for the comforts of a relationship.

Asia noted his gripe and raised a hand in surrender while she backspaced in her note. "Okay, okay. We can kiss. I'm probably not that great at it, but — "

"You don't need to worry about what you're good at with me. Nobody goes to swim lessons expected to know how to swim. I'm teaching, and you're learning. That's the point of all this."

Stunned silence dropped Asia's jaw for a half second until she had enough nerve connections in her brain to pick it up and try to salvage her image. Kelvin tried to hide his smile behind his near-empty plastic water bottle while he watched her with satisfaction dancing in his eyes. For someone usually so poised, so sure of themselves as they moved through the tiny world that overlapped between them, Asia was flustered easily. A crack in the armor. Endearing. It made her human to Kelvin, who saw her as a mythical creature filled with unattainable magic.

Standing, Kelvin pulled his hoodie over his head, a question muffled as he disappeared behind thick fabric. "Can I ask you some stuff, or is this more of an interview? I know I got movie star charm, but I do like a back-and-forth every once in a while. Keeps me humble."

"Oh, brother," Asia groaned. "Ask what you gon' ask, Kelvin, before I change my mind."

A glimpse at his abdomen as his disrobing incidentally lifted the crisp white tee beneath did all the heavy lifting to stir Asia into crackling embers of desire masked by a deteriorating cool exterior.

He caught her looking, eyes wide like deer in headlights and winked on his way to plop down on her couch. "This is niiice," he drew out, scooting deeper to get comfortable. Where you get this? Don't let me find out you've been letting me pay for lunch, and you're rich."

"That's why I gave you a break the last few weeks. See how I look out for you." she joked, earning a dimpled smile in return. "Now, ask your question."

Kelvin called her over with a quick tilt of his head and a disarming smile. "Come over here first."

In her inner monologue, Asia passed the blame for her slow walk toward him to the fleeting gleam of his earrings under her bamboo floor lamp acting as a homing signal. In reality, it was simple attraction. Bare bones, uncomplicated attraction. He was boyishly handsome, the type of man you meet in college and remain "friends" with until one of you gets bored. Clean facial hair, glowing skin, straight white teeth, a sturdy hairline – all the makings of a classically fine man. What he lacked in height, he made up in personality and a beguiling genuineness.

That's what carried her the few steps from the kitchen to Kelvin's side, her eyes low until he tugged her down into his lap. He chuckled into her ear as his soft hands rubbed a soothing path up and down her exposed thigh while he cradled her. "You ever hear your neighbors in here?"

"That was your question, Kelvin? If I can hear my neighbors? Not usually, no."

He quietly scanned the corners of the room, nodding to himself in silent confirmation, then looked back at Asia with a lazy smile. His lips pecked at her neck before he spoke against her delicate skin. "And I wanted you to tell me about Friday. I saw you got the Hustle this week. That's big, girl. Congratulations."

His deep mumbles vibrated across Asia's body, awakening nerve endings in places she didn't know could feel so electrified. Her legs tensed as she fought for a response. "Thank you. I…I wasn't expecting it."

"I don't know why. You been bustin' your ass. Stayin’ late…” His voice trailed as his fingers danced across her stomach to the waistband of her shorts, hovering. Waiting. Teasing. "Comin' early. Skipping lunches. The least they could do is recognize you."

All of Asia's words came out in a needy rush of air. "Yeah, I guess so."

"I know so." Long, deft fingers slid into Asia's shorts and over her thin underwear, looking for tension to relieve. "Tell me to stop whenever you want." Kelvin kept his lips attached her neck just as his hold on her waist tightened and her eyelids started to flutter closed. He spoke low and smooth, like warm honey. "What'd you do today?"

A sigh and a whimper tumbled from her lips, fragmented and surprised. "I…I went to the farmer's market. The one uptown by the Whole F-foods."

"What'd you get? More of that fruit juice you let me taste?"

"Mhm."

Asia had something else to say, something possibly important, had it popped up at a different time. However, the words faded into a haze of disjointed thoughts once Kelvin started making slow revolutions against her clothed center. The spot grew wetter with each pass. He listened to her try to breathe for a few seconds with the ghost of a smile on his lips while he focused on easing her into more stimulation.

He rubbed his nose against her cheek to gently direct her to say more. "And what else? Focus on that so I can focus on you."

Heat came first. An uncontrollable, blazing internal heat radiated from Asia's shoulders to her clenched toes. The fire inside created steam in her mind that needed a minute to clear before she could mentally wipe it away and think about the moments in her day that meant more than having her body controlled by a man who, less than a week ago, had never even seen her ankles.

"Lunch," she panted. "I had lunch at…at a, um, a vegan spot. It was terrible. I…oh my God…I wasted my money."

"You're vegan?"

"No. Just…thought I'd try something different today."

"Oh yeah?" Kelvin pulled his hands away long enough to lick the tips of his fingers before returning them further south. Slick and searching for warmth, he carefully led them into her panties for skin-to-skin contact. "You're full of surprises today, huh?"

Asia's answer became a shuddering sigh that never quite let all the air out of her lungs before she went to inhale.

They sat like that for what felt like forever. Asia breathing in an uneven pattern, eyes closed and twitching behind crinkled lids. Kelvin slowly, deliberately circling the center of her pleasure with his nose pressed to her neck, inhaling the shea and sandalwood body wash coating her skin. Both of them caught up in the rapture of an impromptu lesson one.

Kelvin snuck his free hand beneath Asia's shirt, caressing his way to both nipples that ached for contact. He ran his thumb across his favorite one a few times over before cupping her entire breast to gently hold it in the palm of his hand.

"I didn't know this was the first session," Asia whispered as her body grew rigid and wetness coated her thighs, the words almost lost to the low roar of her dishwasher across the room.

"It doesn't have to be. Consider it a chemistry test," he answered. "Wanna stop?"

Asia rushed to answer, "No! Stay right there…please."

Hearing her beg for his touch, for the feeling he was producing, sent Kelvin into a tailspin of emotions that he fought to put back into the mental box he never planned to open. But he couldn't escape the burning desire to press kisses from her shoulder to the corner of her lips. "Look at you. I think you know what you want," he commented as he increased the pace to elicit the whimper she tried to keep tucked away. "Don't be shy. Speak up."

She couldn't. Even with the words knocking against the container of her mind like cold rainwater on a tin roof, she couldn't fight the sighs and sultry mewls taking precedence over making requests. All she could squeak out as her stomach clenched to welcome the first shocks of impending orgasm was a measly whimper.

"That's okay," he murmured. "We can work on it. Breathe deep for me."

Or don't breathe at all. Asia's lungs chose the second option, involuntarily holding in a breath to receive the single digit tentatively plunging inside her while tears leaked from the corner of her eyes. Kelvin kissed away the initial shock until she nervously returned the affection.

It was all too good. The taste of mint on his tongue, the feeling of his hands dragging out every sigh and sound she could concoct, the way his moans mingled with hers, how his eyes seemed to try and convey something more than the carnal situation they'd found themselves in – all too good and far exceeding expectations.

Plush lips moved against each other like seasoned lovers, syncing up without much pomp and circumstance. Asia was right. She was a quick study. She'd learned the ebbs and flows of a solid kiss in no time as she relaxed into Kelvin's touch. Nervousness had quickly dissipated into familiar passion, loosening the bolts on what they both assumed would be an awkward first encounter.

Her hips swiveled against his lap in time with each push and pull of his middle finger. She could handle more. She deserved more.

When his ring finger joined the show, Kelvin pulled away from their lip lock to let Asia's throaty moan ping off the walls and ceiling. "There she is," he cooed against her lips. "I knew you had it in you."

Her private time had nearly gone unrivaled until he came along. She'd mastered how to get herself off efficiently with nothing more than a little mental stimulation and time on her hands. This was different. This was exhilarating. Having praise and pleasure in equal measure scratched an itch that she'd almost believed would never be satiated. Now, she had her first taste of a drug she wasn't sure she wanted to quit.

Kelvin's reminder to breathe echoed through Asia's mind as her body welcomed release. Waves of warmth cascaded across her limbs to match the near sob in her throat. Sweat pooled beneath her t-shirt. He kept his lips pressed to hers, creating a heady feeling that juxtaposed the pressure quaking her insides and sending her essence all over his knuckles. Her breathing all but stopped until the slow tingle of feeling returning to her toes reminded her that not only was she still alive, but her coworker still had his hands in her pants and a silly, self-satisfied grin on his lips.

"You sound so pretty when you're not yelling at me through a screen." Kelvin pulled his fingers out of her warmth and immediately stuck them into his mouth for the taste he'd been fiending for. Asia watched him with shock and intrigue on her face as he hummed in approval at his reward for all his hard work. "And you acted like you didn’t wanna kiss but you're not bad at it. I've had way worse."

Asia's rolling eyes matched the deadpanned response she used to hide how flustered she was. "Oh, great. I was starting to worry," she scoffed. "Get out of my house, Kelvin. I'll see you next weekend. Same time?"

A pang of disappointment hit him as she stood to scurry toward her bathroom without sparing him a second look. "We don't have to be like that," he called after her. "It's up to you, but I got a Disney bundle and Uber One until the end of the month. And you gotta eat, right?"

"I guess so," Asia answered, leaning on the frame with her arms crossed while she quietly committed the dimples in Kelvin's cheeks to memory. "Can we get something I can put hot sauce on?"

"You want your Wednesday usual?"

She smirked and turned her back to leave. "Don't go browsing around my Netflix messing up my recommendations and shit. Wait 'til I come back!"

Kelvin kept his smart remark to himself and sank deeper into the couch to scroll through dinner options until he found his target. An intentional lick of his lips when he knew he was completely alone brought Asia back into the room by taste and imagination, reinvigorating a stirring below the navel that he couldn't relieve until he was in the privacy of his own thoughts.

Adjusting himself to find relief, Kelvin released a low chuckle and licked his lips again for the thrill.

All business and no play was boring. Next Saturday couldn't come soon enough.

--------

Reply if you'd liked to be tagged. DM if you’d like to be removed.

TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @hrlzy @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown @blyffe @tvchi @wabi-sabi1090 @blackmoonchilee @flydotty @aldrigmer444 @ash-ketchumzzz @nayaesworld @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @writingsbytee @teddybeerz @trippyscotch @theogbadbitch @thevelvetwhispers

#kelvin harrison jr.#kelvin harrison jr. x black oc

560 notes · View notes

aegonstradwife · 1 year ago

Text

long nights | tom glynn-carney x reader

summary: you and tom are costars, who have to share an intimate scene together. afterward, you go out for drinks to unwind. and after that? it's anyone's guess.

warnings: drinking, friends to lovers, smut. (tipsy sex, oral, fingering, squirting.)

a. note: first thing i've written in a while. please be kind.

Nerves are already eating away at you as you approach Tom's trailer. Unsure what you're looking for, you rap on the door. Reassurance? Comfort? The director to jump out and shout, surprise!, the scene has been scrapped? Maybe all three?

Tom's smiling face appears as he opens the door for you, gesturing for you to join him inside. "Hey. You ready for this?"

You greet Tom with a smile as well, albeit one much more nervous than his, and step past him into his trailer. "Hey. I mean.... as ready I can be? You?"

You take a seat beside him; though you're finished for now, clad in a fluffy robe supplied to you by the crew, Tom still has a few more minutes of makeup left. Underneath your robe, you have only a skimpy nude-colored outfit on in preparation for the scene that has you so worked up.

Tom's gaze flickers to that robe, obviously wondering what's underneath. You're too busy plucking nervously at your own fingernails to notice, and when you finally glance up at him, he quickly composes himself and nods.

"Yeah, I think so. Well, as ready as I can be too, I guess." He picks up his script, fiddling with it as he watches the makeup artist put the finishing touches on his face. "This scene is going to be.... awkward, probably."

The way he says it causes a dead weight to settle in the pit of your stomach.

The artist currently dusting powder on Tom's cheeks pipes up, though, with, "Oh, don't worry too much about it, you two will be just fine!"

As she retreats, giving Tom the okay to leave, you roll your eyes and sigh, "Easy for her to say," as you hold the door open for him to follow you out.

He chuckles nervously, right behind you as you make your way to set.

The crew has done an excellent job of transforming a standard sound stage into a comfortable bedroom. Two chairs are set up beside a large bed and lights shine down on the room, already hot from the heat of the bulbs.

Tom swallows heavily as the two of you approach and the director motions for both of you to take your places on the bed.

Tom motions for you to climb on, muttering, "Ladies first," and you oblige with a stifled sort of laugh, disrobing and lying back. As he crawls over you, you try to make yourself as comfy as possible beneath him.

"You alright?" He queries softly.

Though you notice his gaze roaving over your mostly naked form, you try not to read too much into it - a half-nude woman could lie underneath any man and it probably wouldn't matter much what she looked like; he's probably going to stare no matter what.

You nod spastically, throat having suddenly closed up with embarrassment and nerves.

He nods back at you, trying to give you a reassuring smile. He props himself up on his elbows above you, trying to ignore the fact that he can feel your body heat through the very small gap between his body and yours.

The director calls for quiet on the set and it isn't long before a loud "Action!" follows.

All in all, the scene isn't painful - with someone like Tom, it can't be. He's so patient and sweet, putting you at ease and cracking jokes whenever the director yells cut.

It's becoming increasingly hard to ignore your own arousal, however, with Tom's bare, toned chest inches from your own and his soft lips searing against yours with every cry of 'action!'

Eventually, the intimacy coordinator calls an end to this particular scene for the day and as you move to roll off the bed, you can't help but notice that Tom is hard. He's wearing a flimsy little piece of flesh-colored cloth that barely covers his lower half, same as you, and it's making it very difficult to ignore what's going on down there.

Tom, however, rolls off of you quickly, trying to hide his erection and avoid drawing your attention to it. Despite his best efforts, it's still very obvious to you, and the way you blush as he looks at you isn't helping any.

You clear your throat anxiously, scampering off the bed after Tom and slipping gratefully back into your robe.

Tom is scrambling to his own feet, quickly grabbing for his robe and tying it around his waist as he watches you with a mixture of embarrassment and - desire?

The crew has begun to disperse, but Tom hesitates for a moment as he stares at you. He clearly wants to say something, but it seems he's not quite sure what. Instead, he stands there in uncomfortable silence, watching you as you fidget with the tie on your own robe.

You shoot him a small smile from across the room. "Not too bad, huh?"

He chuckles softly, returning your smile with a small, somewhat bashful, one of his own.

"Yeah, not too bad."

He sighs, raking a hand through his already-mussed hair and avoiding your gaze. He doesn't know how to bring up what just happened without feeling like an absolute creep.

"Hey.... listen. Erm, this...." He waves a hand down near his waist. "That was just.... I mean, I didn't make you uncomfortable, did I?"

God, how could he ever make you uncomfortable?

"No, no, not at all." You wave a hand, completely dismissing the idea while also trying to find a way to tell him you're actually flattered. "It was.... fun. You made it fun."

His shoulders relax slightly at your words, as though flooded with relief. But there's still obviously a part of him that's worried that he messed up.

"Good, that's.... that's good."

He rubs his jaw, avoiding your gaze and looking anywhere but directly at you.

"And.... you're not upset at me for...."

He gestures downward again.

You laugh lightly, tying your robe tight together. "Tom, everything's okay. It was a really intense scene, so it's only natural something like that would happen." Right? You're sure it must happen all the time with other actors. You're still relatively new to this, so you're not positive, but it sounds right. "Hey, why don't we get changed and go for a drink? Just the two of us?'

Tom deflates even further at the suggestion; he must have seriously been worried you'd be upset or worse.

He nods enthusiastically.

"Yeah, yeah, that sounds good. I could use a drink after that."

"Well, don't make it sound like I tortured you," you groan, a blush flooding your cheeks.

Tom runs a hand through his hair again as both of you share a bout of breathless laughter. "I'll meet you outside in five?"

"Mm, yeah."

Once out of your robe and back into your normal clothes, you feel much better and back to your usual self, waiting for Tom outside of his trailer.

He emerges a few minutes later, looking a bit more put together and much fresher than he did in costume. He spots you waiting for him and smiles.

"Hey. Sorry to keep you waiting." He starts for the lot exit, gesturing for you to follow. "I did a bit of exploring around set the other day; I know a great little place not far from here, if that's alright?"

You're always struck by how handsome Tom is out of costume - he certainly has a much better style than his character does.

"Sure, lead the way." You fall into step beside him, loving the heat radiating off of him with every step.

As you go, Tom stuffs his hands deep into his pockets. You glance at him and wonder if you imagine the peachy blush blossoming on his face. The air between the two of you feels charged somehow, the memory of the scene still fresh in both your minds.

He steals glances at you every so often as you walk, though you're unsure what exactly he's looking at or for. And instead of making you uncomfortable, you feel warm and safe under his constant gaze.

"So, what do you do to unwind after a long day on set?"

His voice takes you by surprise in the silence.

"Well, I do like a stiff drink from time to time." You gesture in front of you as if to say 'as you can see from where we're headed.' "But I also like to listen to music, play games, take a dip in a really hot bath.... how about you?"

He chuckles. "I'm not much for baths, to be honest. I'd rather shower, just take a quick rinse to feel clean."

He grins at you.

"But I do enjoy having a nice cold beer.... and occasionally I'm persuaded into a game of FIFA, if the right person is asking."

"You should seriously try a bath some time, they're so relaxing and they really help with soreness and tight muscles...."

Both of you are absolutely thinking about bathing together right now, but not one of you says this aloud.

"Oh God, you would be into FIFA, you're so incredibly British. I mostly play RPG's like Final Fantasy, Persona, that kind of thing."

He snorts a laugh at your remark.

"Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it. We can't all spend our free time saving the world from monsters and fighting evil overlords. Some of us just like a good bit of football."

He grins, coming up short when they reach a pub about halfway down the street.

"Right in here, my lady."

A few hours later, and the two of you are drunk off your asses, laughing at something Tom just said while sidled up at the bar.

You laugh so hard, you lean back and almost fall off your stool.

Luckily, Tom is quick enough to catch your arm and keep you from toppling backwards, but in the process, you end up pressed against his chest as he grips you in a tight yet gentle hold.

"Whoa, whao! Careful there, you're almost as accident prone as I am."

He chuckles, his breath warm against your ear as he steadies you on your feet once more. Even inebriated, you're still aware of the way you fit so perfectly against his body.

You shake your head, staring up at him. Both of you are quite drunk, but Tom at least can still keep his eyes open all the way.

You blink heavily, grasping for his hand, petting over his fingers. "Sorry, I just.... I still can't believe FIFA is your favorite game. It's a disgrace."

You devolve into a fit of giggles once more.

He rolls his eyes playfully, gently squeezing your fingers in reply.

"Oh, and you've got a better idea? Let me guess, something with swords and magic and.... y'know, dungeons and stuff."

He's a little too tipsy to notice the way you're playing with his hand, or how much it's affecting him.

The world spins as you rest your head on his shoulder, still gazing up at him. ".... oh, I'll put you in a dungeon. With a pair of nice fluffy handcuffs."

Another bout of giggles, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. Nothing exists right now except you and Tom - not the bartender, not the other guests - just the two of you, drunk and hanging onto each other.

Tom goes absolutely still as you rest your head against his shoulder, his heart skipping a beat at your comment about handcuffs. He's suddenly finding it very difficult to breathe with you so close, the sound of your giggles making his stomach flutter with something other than alcohol-induced nausea.

He swallows hard, trying to gather his thoughts into something less perverted and more appropriate for public consumption.

"Is that a.... promise, or a threat?"

With your head on his shoulder, your nose is very close to his neck. He smells.... divine. A fair bit like stale alcohol, but still divine.

"Mm...." You wriggle, getting situated in his arms. "I don't typically make a habit of threatening people. So.... it must be a promise."

He takes another shuddering breath as you burrow your nose deeper into the crook of his neck, the feel of your breath hot across his skin making him shiver.

God, you feel so good against him, so warm and perfect. He wants so badly to wrap his arms around you, to pull you into his lap, to bury his face in your hair and just hold you.

"And.... if I said I hope you follow through on that promise?"

You take a deep breath and let it out on a sigh, fingers coming to tap against his jaw. The way his throat works every time he swallows is captivating you. "Then I would say.... Maybe we should head back, to my dungeon.... so I can make this fantasy a reality."

He shuts his eyes and lets out an involuntary, needy little groan at your words. His entire body is on fire, his thoughts hazy and scrambled with desire. The only thing he can focus on coherently is the feeling of your body against his, the sound of your voice in his ear, your fingers on his jaw.

He nods, his voice thick and raspy as he finally manages to speak.

"You have no idea how badly I would love for you to take me back to your dungeon." He hoists you up further, supporting you against him as he pets a hand over your waist. "But.... you're very drunk. We really shouldn't...."

Oh, that moan.... he must want you, otherwise why would he make that needy little sound? The implication of it is enough to make you press your thighs together in desperation.

You swallow thickly. "Then.... at least get me home and help me sober up? Would that be okay, Tom?"

Tom is drunk, but not so much that he can't still think straight. Seeing how needy you're becoming, how much you're obviously wanting him, makes his heart ache with desire, but he refuses to take advantage of you now. He'll do anything else for you, but not that. You need to be in full control of yourself when you take that step with him.

"Of course. Anything you want."

He nods, a hand gripping your hip as he helps you out the door and onto the street.

You're a stone's throw from the filming location, but much farther from the hotel they have you staying at.

You fish in your pocket for your phone. "Here, let me get us an Uber back."

Tom stays by your side as you tap at your phone, his hand still on your hip to steady you as you type. He hopes the driver will get there quickly, because having such easy access to you is proving to be more and more difficult as the alcohol continues to swirl through him.

As you wait, you list against him, arms wrapped around his solid torso. "Tom...."

He grunts softly as you practically meld yourself against his side, and he has to hold himself back from wrapping you in a tight, desperate embrace. He can feel the heat radiating off of you, the way your body fits against his like a puzzle piece.

He tries to force his mind to focus, but alcohol and the feel of you pressed all up against him makes it difficult.

"Yeah....?"

"Will you at least kiss me?" You can't stop yourself from asking. "When we get in the car."

He chokes on his own saliva when you ask him to kiss you, a jolt of need running through him at your words. He wants to kiss you, oh God, does he want to kiss you, but he's still worried about taking advantage.

You can sense he wants to say no, so you cling to the front of his jacket and whine, "Please?"

But then you're looking up at him with those big, pleading eyes and he can't say no. He won't.

He nods, his voice coming out as a hoarse whisper. "When we're in the car, I promise I'll kiss you."

A grin overtakes your entire face, lighting it up, and your car pulls up in no time. Tom lets you slide in first, making sure you don't just drunkenly fall in, and as soon as he's seated and the door is shut you slot yourself against him with a sigh. "Now, Tom? Please."

He barely has enough time to slam the door shut before you're on him, pushing your body against his with a needy whine. He groans as you press into him, his hands coming up to rest on the bare skin of your waist. The feel of you is almost too much and he has to fight against the urge to just grab you and kiss you senseless right now.

His voice is rough and low as he replies, his lips close enough to brush your jaw.

"God, yes, so impatient, aren't you?"

"Yes." You've always been impatient, always wanted everything now, as soon as you can, and Tom is certainly no exception. "Although.... if you wanted to keep kissing my jaw like that, I wouldn't say no."

He chuckles softly, the sound rumbling in his chest as he leans closer, lips tracing along the line of your jaw before moving up to your earlobe, where he gives you a playful little nibble.

"Just your jaw? I'm not that generous a man. I want to kiss every inch of you, mark you as mine."

"But you don't want to take advantage of me?" You ask softly, remembering his words from earlier as you pull back just enough to see him properly. Your whole body is heating up, the tension between your legs growing unbearable.

How long have you wanted this, wanted him, and now you have him and he refuses to go any further? Will he still want to in the morning, when you're stone cold sober?

You hate these thoughts, these doubts about yourself.

Tom groans, his fingers flexing on your hips as he forces himself to pull back from you. He knows he has to, but he hates it. He wants nothing more than to hold you tightly and kiss you until you're screaming into his mouth. But he can't. Not like this. Not when you're drunk, not when you're not fully in control.

"Damn these principles of mine," he chuckles dryly. "Because I really, really want to."

With a trembling hand carding itself through his pretty blond hair, you lick your lips in what you hope is a seductive way and not a 'shit I'm about to pass out' kind of way.

"Well. You did at least promise to give me a proper kiss. So. What're you waiting for?"

He stares at you through half-lidded eyes, his thoughts growing more and more incoherent the more you touch him and the more you speak. He swallows, his gaze flickering down to your lips, your jaw, the exposed skin of your collarbones over your shirt before dancing back up to meet your gaze. He looks completely wrecked already.

His grip tightens on your hip, fingers flexing against your skin as he considers his options. He clearly wants to do more than just kiss you.

"God, you're really not making this easy on me, are you?"

You whine, hating how much time he's taking, hating that he might change his mind and refuse to touch you at all.

"Tom, please.... you promised."

The sound of you whining, begging for his touch, is more than he can handle. His resistance falters, and he gives in with a heavy sigh.

"God damn it, you're going to be the death of me."

With another needy sound, he takes your face in his hands and finally, finally, he kisses you.

If the sound that came out of you before could be described as a whine, this one can only be described as a whimper. All your need and desire for him escaping you in one long, low sound.

The driver probably thinks Tom is hurting you with the sense of urgency imbued in that one sound.

"Oh, Tom...," As you part from him, you continue to peck his lips over and over, smaller, messier kisses than before. One at the corner of his lips, one to his chin, another as you nibble at his bottom lip. "It's not enough.... it's not going to be enough. Not until I have you."

The sounds that are coming out of your mouth make him shiver with want, and each little kiss on his face fuels the fire burning in the pit of his stomach. His grip on you tightens, his fingers digging almost painfully into your skin as he fights the urge to grab you and pin you down against the seat.

"You.... God, you're so impatient. You're not always this easy to read, you know, making all these needy little sounds."

He nuzzles against your mouth, his breath coming in hot little pants against your skin.

You know. God, you know how unreadable you are from day to day. Can't ever let any true emotion show, can't let the boy you like know you like him, lest he use it against you.

"I'm afraid," you mutter, fingers splayed against his neck. "I'm afraid to let anyone know.... how I really feel. Silly, isn't it?"

His fingers move softly against your skin, his touch gentle as he strokes up and down your bare hip where your shirt has ridden up.

"No, not silly. Just.... careful. You're very careful about how you portray yourself to the world. It's not a bad thing, it's just...." He lets out a quiet huff of laughter. "It's just frustrating sometimes, because it makes it so damn hard to read you."

You laugh too, accompanied by a shiver at the feeling of his fingers on your hip. "So.... if you could normally tell what I'm thinking.... how much I want you.... What would you do?"

His eyes darken at your question, a smirk playing across his lips as his fingers tighten again on your waist.

"What would I do? If I knew how much you truly wanted me, how badly you need me...."

He leans closer, his mouth hovering over the pulse point of your throat. He can feel your heartbeat, quick and erratic, beneath his lips as he murmurs against your skin.

"I'd take you right here in the backseat of this damn car, for a start."

Your hold on him tightens, that tension between your legs finally breaking as your clit starts to actively throb with desire. "Oh, Tom...." You hook a leg over his, rubbing against his thigh. "I don't care where we are or who's watching.... take me now? Please?"

Tom grunts, a feral sound that comes from deep in his chest, as you rub against him. His grip on your waist is almost bruising, but he doesn't care about that right now. All he can think about now is burying himself in you. Claiming you as his.

He pulls back just enough to whisper in your ear, his voice thick with hunger. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? Anyone could look in and see you falling apart under my touch, knowing how badly you wanted me...."

You nod, unable to help yourself. You would like that, would get so soaked to know someone - anyone - was watching you get fucked by the hottest guy you'd ever met.

Just then, however, the car pulls to an abrupt stop outside the hotel.

Lower lip caught hard between your teeth, you attempt to right yourself and your clothes as you exit the Uber with a muffled, "sorry," to the driver.

Tom climbs out after you, offering a similar apology before hurrying after you, walking so close that he's almost on top of you. His hand comes to hover near the small of your back, desperate to touch you but refraining from doing so until you get inside.

As soon as the elevator doors have closed behind you, Tom grabs you and pulls you flush against him, pinning you against the wall as he groans against your neck.

"God, you don't know what you do to me."

Another full blown smile graces your face as Tom pulls you close. "I didn't embarrass you too badly back there, then?"

He laughs, the sound low and rough. He brushes his nose against the line of your jaw, his mouth seeking the sensitive skin along the side of your neck where he can feel your pulse fluttering quickly beneath.

"Embarrass me? No. But you are going to kill me if you keep making those little noises. And you made a lot of those little noises in the car."

The elevator chimes to a stop on your floor, and you tug him out into the hallway with a hand in his. "I can make a lot more of those 'little noises' in my room."

At that, he lets out an almost inhuman sound, a low growl that comes from deep in his chest.

"Don't say things like that, or I might make you right in the middle of this hallway."

He pulls you down the hall towards your room, nearly breaking the lock on your door in his haste to get inside.

You hand him your card key, and the minute you stumble inside, Tom is pressing you back against the closed door and kissing your neck again. "Tom, seriously.... I need you. I've needed you for a while. Since I met you, honestly."

You wouldn't be admitting these things if you weren't drunk, but that doesn't make them any less true.

A desperate sound catches in the back of his throat at your words, at the admission that you've wanted him for a while. That you need him, as much as he needs you right now. He pulls back to look you in the eye, drinking in the sight of your flushed face, your disheveled hair, and he almost forgets how to breathe.

"God, you're going to be the death of me. I've wanted you so damn bad. Wanted to hear you saying my name, begging me to touch you."

You nod, lip caught plaintively between your teeth again. "Well.... now I am. And you.... you want me too. So.... what are we waiting for?"

To your dismay, however, Tom steps away and sighs. "Not like this, not while you're drunk."

You shake your head, and the room goes spinning again. Stumbling against him, you grabs onto the front of his shirt. "I'm not - not even really that drunk. I feel good, Tom, please...."

He's trying so damn hard to do the right thing here, to not take advantage of your current state, but the moment you stumble into him and grip his shirt he can't help but shiver with need. You look so small and needy right now, holding onto him like you can't stand up without him.

He swallows hard, his throat bobbing, and he grips your waist to keep you steady as he speaks.

"Let's get you a drink of water, alright? And maybe a snack." His fingers are gentle at your jaw, steadying you. "Then we can talk. How does that sound?"

You suppose you should be grateful for Tom's self control, how gentlemanly he is. Not many men could - or would even try to - stop themselves at this point, especially with a woman throwing herself at them like you are.

You take a moment to thank your stars, and nod. "Sure." You let Tom lead you into the room proper, and set you down on one of the beds. "There should be some water bottles in the mini fridge. And some crackers on the night stand."

Tom takes the time to rummage in the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water and handing it to you before snatching a packet of crackers off the bedside table. He comes to sit beside you on the bed, watching to make sure you're stable before opening the packet and holding it out to you.

"Eat." He's gone into full-on 'protection mode' now that you're in a safe spot. "And drink your water. You'll thank me in the morning."

You lean against Tom as you do as he says, biting into your crackers and washing them down with a mouthful of cold water. "Thank you, Tom. Seriously. You're so sweet.... how did I get so lucky to grow so close with someone so amazing?"

He sighs quietly, his arm curling around you as he pulls you closer against him. He presses a soft kiss against the top of your head, his voice deep and soft.

"I'm the lucky one, darling. Being your friend is an absolute privilege. I don't deserve such a wonderful woman."

You take another little nibble of a cracker, turning into him. "What if.... what if I want to be more than friends?"

His breath hitches at that, and he has to resist the urge to wrap his arms around you and pull you on top of him.

Instead, he runs his fingers through your hair, his gaze roaming over your face. "Are you sure you're sober enough to make these kinds of decisions, love? Because if so, then I'm all yours."

"Give me like, five minutes," you answer truthfully. "I'll finish these and drink my water and I'll be perfect. I promise."

He lets out a quiet chuckle, his thumb stroking gently against your cheek. "All right, love. Drink your water, eat your crackers, and I'll wait however long you need, okay? I want you to be sure about this. I'll be here, right beside you, until you're ready."

The two of you sit and have a casual chat as you eat and drink, and gradually the room stops spinning so much. It's more like 20 minutes than five, but eventually you toss the wrapper and the empty bottle in the trash and fix Tom with a measured look. "Well.... I'm ready."

All the while, Tom had continued to quietly hold you, his strong, steady presence beside you like a pillar. He had chatted along with you, his voice a low murmur at your ear, until you were done eating and drinking.

When he feels you turn to look at him, he gives you a small smile, his eyes dark with desire. He takes a moment to study your expression, making sure you really are as sure about this as you seem.

When he apparently decides you are, he moves in closer, one hand gripping your waist to pull you up against him.

One of your hands curls around his shoulder, the other going to his slim waist. "May I have another kiss?" You ask quietly.

He hums, his hand tightening on your waist, his thumb rubbing small circles on your hip again.

"Of course, dearest."

He doesn't hesitate to lean closer, his nose nuzzling against your jaw before pressing his mouth to your throat. He places soft, fluttering kisses along the sensitive skin there, his warm breath making your skin tingle.

Your breathing quickens, your hold on him tightening. "Tom.... don't take this the wrong way, but.... you could do whatever you want to me right now and I wouldn't say no."

A shudder rolls through him when he hears the breathless need in your voice, and his hand comes up to bury itself in your hair, gently tugging your head back as he nips lightly at your jaw.

"Darling, don't say that or I really won't be held responsible for my actions.”

You've already surrendered herself to him, leaning back against the pillows as his teeth work at your neck and jaw. "But I'm serious. What do you want to do to me?"

A harsh, almost feral, sound rumbles in the back of his throat at your words, and he gives your hair another gentle tug to expose more of your neck to his mouth. He traces a trail from your jaw to your collarbone, nipping and biting along the way.

"I want you to lock me up in your dungeon, of course," he says, and you both chuckle.

Then, "Baby, I want to touch you. Taste you. Make you moan my name until you're pleading and begging for more. I want to...." He hesitates, as though nervous. ".... I want to take one of those really hot baths you were talking about earlier with you...."

"Well, which do you want to do first? Touch me, taste me, or bathe with me?" Your heart is hammering against your ribcage, a frightened bird fighting its way out.

Having Tom, here, looking at you like this is making you feel so weak.

He considers his options for a moment, studying your face intently as he decides. He's practically shaking with need right now, and being given the choice is almost too much for him. He can't wait to get his hands on you.

"I think...." His voice sounds wrecked, his thumb tracing a path up the side of your ribcage. "I think I want to touch you first."

"Then what are you waiting for?" You ask, with a bite of impatience in your voice. You lean fully back against the pillows now, letting your shirt ride up over your abdomen. "I'm all yours, Tom."

His eyes darken as he notices your shirt riding up, revealing a strip of bare skin just below your navel. He runs his hand up your side, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake, until he can tuck his fingers under the fabric. He pulls your shirt up further.

"God, you really are, aren't you? Such a beautiful, perfect little thing, all mine to explore."

His words cause you to inhale sharply, spreading your legs so he can get between them. "Tom.... keep talking like that. I can't get enough of it."

He lets out a gravelly groan at that, shifting to kneel between your legs. His hands come up to gently run along your sides, to your ribs, finally coming back down to rest on your hips and holding you still as he speaks.

"You want to hear more, love? I'll tell you anything you want. You just have to ask."

Your hands find his toned forearms, skimming up and down. You like feeling him, it sets you at ease to know he's here with you. "Keep telling me I'm yours, keep saying I'm perfect. Keep.... keep telling me how much you want me. Please."

He tightens his grip on your hips, his broad chest rising and falling with his rapid breathing. His eyes roam over your body, taking in every dip and curve.

"You're mine, darling. Absolutely mine."

He moves down, his nose running along your stomach, his hand pushing your shirt up farther to expose more of you.

"Perfect. So damn perfect. Can't even believe I get to have you like this. It's all I've thought about for weeks."

"Really?" For some reason, you're more embarrassed to learn that Tom has been pining for you than you are of the fact that his face is now level with your bare chest. "Why didn't you say anything?"

He laughs at that, the rumble in his chest making his muscles ripple against your skin. He ducks down, placing a kiss between your breasts before speaking.

"I don't know, darling. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable in any way, I suppose. You're just so damn hard to read. I could never tell if you wanted me to leave you alone, or if you just didn't want to let yourself show it."

"I'm sorry," you apologize, petting his hair back, letting your nails traipse down his neck. "I promise not to be so hard to read from now on, but only if you promise me something."

He lets out another low moan when your nails run along his neck. He moves his mouth down, peppering the soft skin above your hip bone with little kisses. When he speaks, his voice vibrates against your skin, sending shudders all through your body. "Anything...."

You worry your lower lip yet again, hands still busy in his perfectly soft hair. "Be mine? I mean.... I guess I'm asking you out. Wanna be my boyfriend?"

He stops. His mouth on your hip, his hands on your waist, his entire body frozen still as your words sink in. His brain seems to have short-circuited, and it takes a good ten seconds before he manages to get it working again.

"You.... you want me to be your boyfriend?"

In the time it takes him to form words, you've had a full blown panic attack. "I mean, only if you want to. We really don't have to. In fact.... It was a mistake of me to ask, seriously, let's just keep it at this."

He shakes himself out of his shock at your panicked rambling, and his hands grab for your wrists, holding you in place.

"Stop. Stop apologizing and stop rambling, darling. Of course I want to be your boyfriend. You really think I could say no?"

"Well.... you didn't say anything at first. I sort of thought you'd had an aneurysm, you weren't saying anything...." Your wrists shake in his grasp.

He tightens his grip on them, holding you still as he levers himself up so he can look you in the eye. His eyes roam your face intently, taking in your anxious look.

"You didn't wait long enough to get an answer before you started panicking, sweetheart. I was just.... surprised. I didn't expect you to ask me." He laughs quietly, and you notice the redness spreading across his cheeks. "I hadn't really thought I'd get that lucky."

"So you will?" You reiterate. ""Please say you will. You want to. Be mine. Please."

Tom huffs a chuckle at the needy sound in your voice, gently moving his hands from your wrists to grasp your face instead, his fingers sifting back into your hair as he holds you in place.

"Yes, darling. Of course I want to be yours. You have no idea how much I want that. I can't believe you even felt you had to ask."

You surge up to kiss him, your hands at his waist dragging him down on top of you.

And he kisses you just as desperately, his mouth moving against yours, his tongue slipping past your lips to taste you. He lets out a low moan as he's tugged down on top of you, his body falling between your legs and pressing you harder into the bed. His arms slide around your body, holding you against his chest as he slips his tongue into your mouth.

With a desperate, searching hand, you cup him through his pants, squeezing gently.

That pulls an utterly guttural noise of surprise from his throat, and his hips lurch forward, pressing his hardness into the palm of your hand. His breath catches, and he gasps against your mouth, his hands tightening on your waist.

"Oh, sweetheart. That.... that's dangerous."

Not caring exactly how 'dangerous' it might be, you start to gently stroke his growing erection through the soft material. "Tom? What gets you harder? The thought of being locked in my dungeon or the thought of taking a hot, steamy bath with me?"

His eyes roll back, and he gasps harshly as you start touching him in earnest, his hips rocking forward against your hand. His body is like a coiled spring, on the verge of snapping at any moment.

"Both of those things are going to get me in trouble at some point, you know that? Those ideas drive me Goddamn crazy. But right now, all I want is to be yours, in any way I can please you, my love."

Your face is heated, feeling him growing in his pants. "Then please me. However you want."

He drops his head, burying his face in your neck. His lips trail along every inch of skin he can find, nibbling and sucking at your pulse point. "Are you sure about that, darling? Because I.... I have so many ideas. Things I want to do to you. How can I choose just one?"

Your shirt is still rucked up around your shoulders, and you take a moment to reach up and yank it off. "Just choose one. Just one, for tonight. For me?"

Tom leans back, just a bit, as you take your shirt off. His hands are on you again in a moment, running up and down your newly exposed skin, exploring every inch of you. He takes a moment to process your words, his eyes hungrily digesting your exposed body.

"Just one, for tonight. I can do that." He slides a hand up, gently gripping your jaw between his fingers. His touch is firm, dominant. "Close your eyes, love."

You trust him enough to obey, immediately, closing your eyes against the light and waiting for him.

You hear him hum, low, approvingly, as he watches your eyes flutter shut. He takes a moment, just to look at you like this. So pliant and perfect. All his to do with as he pleases. You then feel a shiver roll through him, and he has to take a steadying breath before he speaks again.

"Keep them closed. Now, no speaking. Not until I say so, okay, darling? You're going to be so good for me, aren't you?"

"Ye-" You make to answer before remembering his orders - no speaking. You merely nod instead, reaching out to ground yourself with your hands on his arms.

A smile spreads across his face - unseen by you - his hand on your jaw rubbing a thumb back and forth lightly over your skin. "That's my good girl. Just keep those eyes closed for me." He moves his hands to your hips, gently maneuvering you to roll onto your stomach.

Surprised at the change of position, you still gladly curl yourself around a pillow, getting comfortable on your front, your legs spread for him still.

Behind you, Tom lets out a low sound, somewhere between a growl and a moan. He runs his hands up the backs of your thighs, slowly, tracing little circles with his fingertips as he moves them up to grasp your hips. His fingers dig into the skin there, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to hold you in place.

"Perfect. You know how to follow instructions so well, darling. Just like I knew you would."

He said no talking, but. As his hands skim over your shorts, you can't help but ask, "Would you like to take them off, Tom?"

His hands still on your hips as he takes in your words. He gives your hips a gentle squeeze, before sliding his fingers under the elastic of your shorts.

"Well, that sounds like a question, love. And I specifically said no talking, didn't I? But I'll let it slide just this once. Do you want me to take them off, sweetheart?"

You make a small sound, canting your hips up and nodding, making it easier for him.

He hums approvingly as he watches your hips lift, and his hands slide under the fabric, pushing the shorts down and off your legs. Once the cloth clears your feet, he lets it fall to the side before gently rubbing his hands up your legs, from your ankles up to the backs of your thighs again.

"God, darling, you're just a perfect vision, you know that? So beautiful. And all mine."

Your pussy is positively leaking as you bury your face nervously in the pillows and wonder what he's going to do next.

Apparently reading your mind, Tom leans down and whispers in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "Don't be nervous, my love. I just want to make you feel good." He then begins to trail light kisses along the back of your neck and down your spine, pausing at each vertebrae to nibble gently at you.

With one hand, he begins to slowly stroke between your legs, brushing lightly, teasingly, over your sensitive clit as you moan softly. His other hand continues to wander over your back and shoulders, massaging your tense muscles and sending shivers rippling all over your body.

Even the barest brush of Tom's fingers over your clit have your hips bucking, pushing back, wanting more of him. It's all you can do not to speak, to beg him to fuck you already, especially since he's instructed you not to.

You want to tell him that you love how dominant he is, but how gentle at the same time. He wouldn't ever hurt you, you trust him more than anything.

Tom continues to tease you, his fingers moving in slow circles around your clit, never quite giving you the contact you crave. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Do you like it when I'm in control? Do you like when I make you wait and beg for release?" His voice is low and husky, sending a shiver down your spine.

He pauses for a moment, pressing his lips to the curve of your neck before continuing, "I want to hear you say it. Tell me how much you love when I take control."

You're making the most desperate little noises, grinding your aching cunt back against his hand. "I-I thought I wasn't allowed to talk…."

Tom chuckles softly as he continues to tease you, his fingers still working expertly between your legs. "That rule doesn't apply right now, my love," he murmurs, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin behind your ear. "I want to hear you beg for me."

He drags his fingers higher, teasing at your wet entrance before pulling back down to circle your clit once more. "So tell me. Do you love it when I'm in control?" He punctuates his words with a particularly firm stroke over your clit.

"Ah! Oh my god, yes, Tom, I love it. I love when you're in control, I love that you're so dominant, but so gentle with me. You don't know how badly I needed this."

You tilt your hips down, trying so hard to get Tom's thick fingers inside of you.

With a grin against the side of your neck and his hand continuing to work its magic between your legs, he sighs. "I knew you'd like it, my love," he murmurs, slipping just one finger inside of you and pumping it slowly in and out as he continues to circle your clit with his thumb.

He leans down and bites lightly at your shoulder, whispering again, "You're so wet for me, baby. You want me to fill you up, don't you?" He adds another finger, thrusting them faster, harder.

You swallow thickly, wanting him to give you everything. Everything he possibly can. "Please, Tom. Want your fingers, more of them. Want your cock too, and your tongue, and - and…."

Your fingers are tearing so hard at the pillowcase you're afraid you'll rip it open. Your hips are working furiously back against his fingers, it's embarrassing how much you need him.

Tom groans softly at your words. He adds a third finger, stretching you and curling them just right to hit that perfect spot inside of you.

"You're so greedy for me, aren't you?" He murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "Don't worry, darling. I'll give you everything you want."

With that, he leans down and presses his lips to your neck, trailing soft kisses along your skin as his fingers continue to pump inside you.

When his fingers hit your g-spot your entire body spasms underneath of him. "Oh, f-fuck!" There's that undeniable tension, as though something inside of you is held taut like a bowstring. And he doesn't let up either, continuing to abuse that little spot inside of you with his insistent fingers. "Fuck, Tom, I…. be careful. I'm gonna squirt if you keep.... " You trail off on a whine.

He can feel your body responding to his touch, and he doesn't let up, increasing the speed and pressure of his fingers on that spot, knowing exactly how to push you over the edge.

He whispers huskily in your ear, "Well, it's a good thing there are two beds in this room.... Let go for me. I want to see you come apart under my touch."

His voice is a potent mix of command and desire, fueling your need further as he continues to pleasure you, driving you toward that edge where you can finally release all of your built-up tension.

Every breath you take is now accompanied by a desperate moan, your hips working so hard back against his fingers. That tightness is about to break, and you bury your face in the pillow you hold as you do finally squirt, releasing all that fluid over his hand and arm, and probably on his pants too as you shake apart around his lovely fingers.

Though you can't see him, Tom is reveling in the sight of you unraveling under his touch, your body shaking with the force of your release. He feels your wetness gush over his hand and arm, soaking him in your essence, a clear sign of how much you needed this release.

As you shake and tremble, he continues to caress you gently, soothing you through the aftershocks of your orgasm. His own desire burns brightly, knowing that he's brought you such intense pleasure. With a satisfied smile, he whispers softly, "You're so beautiful when you come undone for me, my love."

You can barely catch your breath, Tom's drenched fingers still inside of you, soothing your poor spasming walls. "T-Tom…. when I told you to choose one thing to do to me tonight…. I didn't think it would be that…."

Tom chuckles softly, withdrawing his fingers carefully from inside of you and sitting up on the edge of the bed. He looks down at you with a playful glint in his eyes as he sucks all of you from his fingers.

"What can I say?" he says with a grin. "I always like to exceed expectations."

He reaches over and tousles your hair affectionately with his dry hand, before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. "But if you want something else, just let me know," he murmurs. "After all, tonight is all about giving you exactly what you want."

"I want so much more," you mutter, turning finally to look at the damage. "Jesus Christ, it looks like a swimming pool in here…"

Tom chuckles at this observation, taking in the sight of the wet mess he helped you create.

"Well, I did promise to give you everything you wanted," he teases, pulling you into his arms and planting a soft kiss to your forehead. "And if you seriously want more, just say the word. I'm all yours tonight." He flashes you a mischievous grin, his eyes full of desire as he waits for your next request.

"Well, let's not get cleaned up just yet because…. I do want more. A lot more." You glance down; Tom's cock is now hard as a rock, straining against the zipper of his pants, which are very stained with your squirt.

Tom grins, his eyes also lingering on the dark stains.

"Anything you want, my love," he murmurs, standing up from the bed and pulling you with him. "Let's move over here."

He moves you gently over to the opposite bed, which is still pristine. For now.

"Can I ask you to take some of your clothes off?" You ask quietly. "Please? I can't be the only one naked here."

A sly smile playing on his lips, he nods and slowly starts to undress, revealing his toned body inch by inch. He makes a show of it, letting each piece of clothing drop to the floor with deliberate slowness, enjoying the anticipation building between you.

He stands before you, his gaze locked with yours, completely exposed and ready for whatever desires you have in mind.

You lean forward toward him, anticipatory, and once Tom is just as bare as you are, you can't help but ask, "Can I suck it?"

A primal growl rips from him as he moves closer to you, nodding eagerly.

Without another word, he takes hold of your hair gently, guiding you down towards his length. As you take him into your mouth, he lets out a low moan, his fingers tangling in your hair as he begins to thrust his hips forward gently.

You wrap your lips eagerly around him and start to suck earnestly, head bobbing as he eases the way with his hands in your hair.

His head falls back slightly, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he feels the heat of your mouth enveloping him. The sensation of your eager sucking sends shivers down his spine, his arousal building with each flick of your tongue.

He tightens his grip on your hair, guiding your movements as he rocks his hips gently, matching your rhythm. His breathing becomes shallow and rapid, consumed by the pleasure you're giving him.

One gentle hand comes to squeeze softly at his balls, the other steadying yourself with a hand on his thigh. You gaze up at him, wide eyed, as if to ask, 'am I doing alright?'

Tom's eyes flutter shut at the sensation of your hand on his balls, the pleasure mounting with each passing moment. When he opens his eyes to look down at you, he sees the pure desire reflected in your gaze and can't help but smile.

"You're doing amazing," he breathes, again almost as though he can read your mind, his voice heavy with arousal. "Just keep going like that."

He continues to guide your movements, hips thrusting forward with increasing urgency as the sensation builds inside him. He knows that he's getting close, but he wants to savor every moment of this incredible experience.

The movement of his hips is making you gag a bit now, not used to having something so big in your mouth. But you soldier on, wanting to pleasure him just as much as he did you, trying to relax your throat so Tom can slide in further.

It's evident that the effort you're putting into pushing past your limits is only adding to Tom's desire - he groans softly, feeling you relax your throat further, so he can slip even deeper.

The sensation is overwhelming, and he can't hold back any longer. With a whine, he reaches his peak, his body tensing as he releases himself into your mouth. The pleasure washes over him in waves, leaving him breathless and utterly spent.

You squeak delightedly, and in surprise, as Tom starts to cum. Letting yourself rest fully on your knees now, you brace herself with both hands on his hips. Trying to swallow everything, only a few dribbles of cum spilling out and down your chin, you pop off with one more lick to his dripping head.

He looks down at you, a satisfied smile on his lips, grateful for the intense pleasure you've given him.

"I really did okay?" You gasp, wiping at your chin. "I've only done that once or twice before, and to be honest…. never on an actual human, only ever with toys."

He nods eagerly, pulling you up to him and planting a kiss to your swollen lips. "You were incredible," he murmurs, his fingers tangling in your hair once again. "It was so fucking good, baby."

He pulls you in for another kiss, not caring that the taste of himself is still on you. "But we're just getting started," he says with a grin, his trembling hands roaming over your body.

You still the movements of his hands with your fingers around his wrists, taking the time to really see him in the dim light of the room. "Before we do anything else, Tom.... I really did want to thank you. For earlier. I probably wasn't.... okay. To consent to any of this. Thank you for waiting."

The heat in Tom's eyes blazes brighter, and he disentangles his wrists to card his fingers through your hair. "Of course, love. You don't even have to thank me. I couldn't let you make that decision while you were like that."

With one last peck to his lips, you push him playfully down onto the bed and crawl over him. "Time for round two?"

#aegon targaryen #house of the dragon #tom glynn carney #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x y/n #smut #tom glynn carney x reader #my writing #house of the dragon smut #aegonstradwife

1K notes · View notes

bewitched-hours · 13 days ago

Note

Good morning/evening.

Well its me again :] and I'm here for another request.

Basically, Mafioso x Bartender?Reader oneshot [You can make it into yandere if you want; No pressure].

Where Reader was once Mafi's best friend when they were young adult [During that time, They didn't know that He works and is a mafia himself.]

However, They had end their friendship after slowly realizing They're being friend to a dangerous criminal. After that, They live hidden with the fear of being mistaken as His accomplice and fear of geting revenge + beaten.

As for that, They faked their identities and hidden their true job under cover as a bartender since all the people come to the bar to drink [get drunk, remember nothing next morning = barely see the bartender's face well + They hidden their identities.]

But They didn't even expect to meet Him IN THAT FRICKING BAR THEY'RE WORKING-

[Extra note: Mafioso in Forsaken, not in Dream game.]

Well, the rest is up to you. Stay safe and hope you have a great day :]

-Phalpelisk

Ooo, what a good little prompt I've been fed today~ And tbh, I can't even really find much about dream game aside from fan-stuff so I always just assume Forsaken with Mafioso... (Seriously, where do I even start-)

Reader gets She/They~

Do you regret it? Probably not.

Even getting indirectly involved with the Mafia would've been too dangerous for your tastes. You did what you had to do to make sure he wouldn't be looking for you.

You had faked your death, started over with a new identity, even dying your hair and wearing lenses along with a brand new closet. Though you always had a hat on that shrouded your face in shadows just to be sure.

Nowadays you were just a bartender taking care of the unfortunate and letting them air out their frustrations for the night while you collected tips for your sweet attitude. It was hard to act like that at times but you've never lived better!

But back when you were still younger... You sometimes catch yourself still thinking about your best friend. You felt bad leaving him behind but you didn't want to be seen as his accomplice or anything if push came to shove. You were too scared to let that happen.

Still, you couldn't help but wonder where he was now. Maybe he stuck to the Mafia business? Or maybe he could've changed? Was that possible?

As you thought on such manners in the quiet of the evening, you heard the bells of the door ring their gentle tune. It was him...

You hadn't expected to find him strolling by your workplace but tried to keep your composure. He didn't look too different from when you last saw him and you could always play off your anxiousness- if he noticed it- by pointing out the fact he was a mafia boss or just his looks... Was he known as a mafia boss even? Maybe it was time you invested yourself in the news more...

"Gonna need a Tom Collins..." He sighed, sitting down as you began mixing without a second thought.

Tom Collins... Gin, lemon juice, some simple syrup, a club soda and some ice with a little lemon wedge and cherry for garnish. It's actually one of your favourites...

As you shook your shaker with the ingredients, you couldn't help but notice his tone. "Long day, huh?" You somehow managed to keep a calm voice as you spoke up, straining your current mixture into his ice-filled glass and topped it with the soda and garnishes. "Nothing a little gin and lemon can't fix though, right?" You tried to keep it lighthearted, your sweet act going right past him as he began drinking.

"Just on the hunt for someone." He suddenly chuckled, catching you off-guard. Mafioso was always someone who could somehow see right through you and made you feel predictable. Though you blamed that on him having known you for practically an eternity.

Although, curiosity was practically your second nature. "Oh? Anyone special?" You asked casually, refilling his glass as you figured he might need a couple glasses before even getting tipsy... Well, at least you could probably get away with being casual considering your fake identity.

Except... He knew. "Just an old friend... Faked her own death." He looked up at you to note your slight slip-up in hesitation.

Even though you tried to play it off as simply wanting to see the time, keeping on your signature sweetness as though it was nothing as you continued. "She must be important then, to have someone look for her even so." You faked a chuckle, it all went right past him.

Your act was like glass to him. It frustrated him a little that he couldn't break through it and keep you to himself like he initially planned but he needed you to slip-up so he knew he was stalking the right you.

And you were basically giving him just that as he went on. "One way to put it. Not like I can blame her but she didn't do that good of a job covering her tracks." You couldn't see it but you could hear the smugness in his tone as you hesitated again to subconsciously think about your steps back then.

You felt your heart race as you knew you were caught but still attempted to shake it off in hopes he didn't catch on... Which he did...

"Is that so?" Seriously- How were you keeping such a casual tone despite being caught red-handed? "Any leads then?"

Your nervousness only grew when you heard him chuckle. It felt more menacing than anything. "Just your newfound sweetness... Your acting's better though." He sounded satisfied with himself, taking one last sip of his glass before handing you his card.

"You can run the tab on this and meet me outside. I'll be sure to speak to your boss so you won't have to worry." He got up and allowed you to see his smirk, making you sigh in defeat as your act dropped. At least the other patrons were all already tipsy or drunk enough to not intervene or report this...

You quickly run his card and let him type in the pin as you made your way around to the back where you could change to your usual outfit.

A knee-length dress that you simply had worn today because it made you feel cute, thigh highs to keep your legs warm and a pair of comfortable but fancy looking shoes to match the dress... What luck-

Getting outside, he had been waiting for you by an oddly casual looking car and approached as soon as your eyes met.

"Feel free to smoke a bit until I'm back." He simply said as he handed you a pack of cigarettes and a lighter before heading inside, leaving you no room to question him.

But with a huff, you did light yourself one and began smoking to calm your nerves. How did he even find you? Did he hire someone?

The thought made you shiver slightly but you went further ahead and decided to have a look at his car.

All black, even inside. Slightly tinted windows, a bunny- A BUNNY???

"Ya like him?" His sudden appearance made you practically jump as you dropped your cigarette. "His name's Gubby, you can hold him on the drive if you'd like." He didn't even really acknowledge the cigarette so you subtly stomped on it and quietly nodded before walking around to get in the passenger side.

Gubby practically bounced forward to meet you, sniffing your hands and squeaking happily as you pet him. It was pretty cute...

Almost makes you forget you're basically being kidnapped by your old best friend-

You must've been subconsciously smiling on the quiet ride as Gubby nudged himself against your fingers if you stopped petting him for even a second.

"Feels good not to act?" Mafioso snapped you out of your thoughts and you sheepishly nodded, realizing you've been letting down your guard already. Not like he didn't know.

"I just can't figure out how you managed to figure me out." You sighed, giving into Gubby's demands for affection again. "I got a new identity, dyed my hair and cut it- I even got contacts!" Your little pouts seemed to amuse the man you had known.

"I had a little help but it wasn't too hard to pick up a trail when looking through some old documents." Another shiver ran down your spine. Did the Mafia have access to government files or something? Sounds hard to believe...

Once you seemed to be close to your destination, Mafioso handed you a blindfold and looked at you expectantly. "I'm taking you to my hideout but I'm not having you remembering the way in or out in case anything happens." He sounded more serious and firm and honestly? You didn't have the energy to argue today so you just wrapped the blindfold around your eyes and used the little space below your eyes to just focus on Gubby instead. At least someone in this car can enjoy themself that way...

It was maybe half an hour to an hour of just hearing the engine of the car and the radio playing some songs from a CD Mafioso had on him. You kinda liked it even though it wasn't your usual cup of tea so you allowed yourself to hum along, much to his amusement.

"Glad you like it, [Reader]. It's really the only music I got available." You shrugged in response, trying to get used to your old name again.

It felt... Odd. You were so used to your new life but your old name was both comforting and eerie to hear... Especially out of an old friend's mouth...

But when the car finally stopped, you almost instinctively scooped up Gubby and held him in your arms as you waited for Mafioso to guide you again... Since you- ya know- STILL COULDN'T SEE-

Instead, he decided to lift you out of the car and carry you in a bridal carry as you practically clung onto Gubby to avoid him falling off. Not a single word fell from either of you though as you tried to listen around in confusion.

When the blindfold was finally off, you were greeted by the sight of Mafioso's goons... Who all seemed very curious about your appearance as you were finally let down to the ground and one of them took Gubby off your hands to let you move your arms again.

"This is [Reader], as you all know..." Did he talk about you? Wait- did they help Mafioso find you??? "They're staying with us indefinitely." waitwhat-

"Hold on- Indefinitely??" You questioned in shock, noticing the goons looking a little nervous as Mafioso sighed. "Yes, indefinitely. I put in a lot of work to find you and I'm not risking that again so we'll have your stuff brought here. You'll be taken care of so you won't have to worry." He sounded way too calm for your tastes but were you really in the mood to argue with a mafia boss? Nope.

With a groan, you began following the goons to your new room as they struck up conversation, asking about you and talking about themselves before letting it slip...

"Boss was pretty careful to make sure you didn't notice him following ya-" The goon was pretty quickly shut up by the others in a panic as you stared at them in confusion and slight anxiousness. "What does that mean?" You demanded to know, practically clawing at your own arms to not freak out right now.

"Ah- well-" Their mingled explanations were barely audible over each other so you stomped your foot once and the sound was luckily loud enough to get their attention back to you and allow you to speak.

And for once, you had a pretty mean glare on that managed to make them hesitant. You were able to drive a little fear into them and they were beginning to see how you and Mafioso fit together. "I'm not dealing with a headache today so I want one simple explanation, even if it's fake. I'm not driving myself to paranoia over not having a solid explanation for what you mean when you said he followed me." Your tone was firm and frustrated.

They all looked between each other nervously before one of them decided to step forward and satisfy your curiosity. "Well, we only found out you two had been friends recently. He told us you were someone dear to him and we were to help him find you at a set time each day. When he finally found you he had some of us visit you in disguises to find out what he wanted but because you put up an act he decided to go himself."

You stared at them for a while, trying to process their words until sighing and letting your shoulders slump. They took that as satisfaction and all sighed in relief. You could tell they were at least half-truthful but...

Were you really that important for Mafioso to hunt you down like that?

Who were you kidding, this is the most stubborn man you've ever known. It wasn't unrealistic to make yourself believe that Mafioso was just that stubborn to find you after your supposed slip-up in your plan years ago.

Still, you never wanted this! You've faked your death and created a new identity for yourself to get away from Mafia business! Not be dragged into it!

Sighing, you let the goons lead you to your room again and you were actually kinda surprised to find out it was decorated to your liking. It was mostly based on stuff you used to like back then but those things you still enjoy today so maybe Mafioso made a lucky guess in the new stuff. It would be more touching if you weren't basically the main character in a mafia romance novel.

No, you told yourself you wouldn't act like one. Never. That was way too cringe for your liking but at least you could finally lie down again.

You immediately noticed the comfort in the plush bed as you flopped down with the goons leaving behind a button and telling you to press it if you need help before disappearing. You didn't know what it would do but knowing Mafioso, it probably had a tracker or something in it. Whatever...

Back to the bed, it was comfortable enough to tempt you to fall asleep right then and there. It was the closest you've ever felt to sleeping on a cloud. But you couldn't let that distract you.

Especially not when you heard tiny scratches at your door and were almost excited to open it. You knew it was Gubby and you were more than happy to have him join you. He was in your lap on the bed in mere seconds with you happily scratching between his ears.

"Maybe this won't be so bad if you keep me company, right?" You said playfully, enjoying the little squeaks to comfort yourself for what felt like hours.

What have you been doing for that time? Daydreaming of course.

What about? Hey, you're the reader here, you think of it yourself lmao-

Nonetheless, you were a little embarrassed when you were brought back to reality by the door opening and Mafioso stepping through with a sigh and slight chuckle. "[Reader], I think you're starting to copy Gubby..." Was all he brought out for you to notice you and the bunny both had the same expression while looking at him. And you couldn't stifle your giggling for long as Gubby began jumping in front of you and squeaking in protest, his hind legs stomping against the plush bed in anger.

If only you knew the full extent of the lengths he went to to find you...

Anything you'd like to request/ask? Check out my pinned post first and I'll be happy to write up whatever you want!

#forsaken roblox #forsaken #roblox forsaken #forsaken x reader #forsaken x y/n #mafioso forsaken #forsaken mafioso #yandere mafioso #mafioso x reader

375 notes · View notes

cameronsbabydoll · 3 months ago

Note

babe i need D E T A I L S of jewish!rafe and jewish!reader's wedding!!! my god im soooo obsessed with them

THE VIBE

Venue: Not just any NYC wedding. Think The Pierre ballroom, or a lush estate in the Hamptons. Full white florals, crystals, candlelight, and a live string quartet playing music.

Guests: 400+, everyone they’ve ever known, including family friends from the country club, a rabbi who knows your mom personally, and cousins from Boca.

Dress Code: Formal black tie. No one’s showing up without a designer label. Your aunt whispers “I think she’s wearing Carolina Herrera” like it’s gossip.

THE BRIDE

Custom Galia Lahav gown, fitted with delicate lace sleeves, a dramatic train, and hand-sewn pearls.

Veil longer than your ketubah.

White satin Manolos you insisted on getting even though you can’t walk in them.

Hair half up, soft glam, diamonds everywhere (including your mother's heirloom tennis bracelet “just for the ceremony”).

A bouquet of perfect white peonies that match the floral canopy above the chuppah.

You have a second dress for the party, obviously—a sparkly minidress with feathers or crystals, and a third dress you “weren’t planning on wearing but had in case.”

THE GROOM

Rafe in a custom Tom Ford tux, freshly shaved, smelling like Santal 33 and pure devotion.

Cufflinks with your initials.

Kippah matches his tie.

Looks like he could walk a runway, but his eyes never leave you.

When he sees you walk down the aisle?

Fully tears up. The best man has to hand him a tissue. Your mother swoons. Your grandma dies and comes back to life.

THE CEREMONY

Under a giant white-flower chuppah. Elegant. Regal. Zero budget cuts.

You circle him seven times. He’s trembling. Hands you the ring like it’s a prayer.

The rabbi’s speech lowkey makes everyone cry.

When he breaks the glass, the entire room erupts in “Mazel tov!” like it’s the Super Bowl.

THE PARTY

Hora: Insane. Your heels are off in two seconds. You’re screaming, arms in the air, diamonds bouncing.

Rafe is spun in the chair like a king. The best man almost drops him.

He grabs your hand across the circle and grins at you like he’s never been happier in his entire life.

Dancing: Live band and DJ. You’re switching between Frank Sinatra, and Brittney Spears.

Dessert bar: At least three tables. Macarons, babka bites, mini sufganiyot.

Signature cocktails: Named after your dog and Rafe’s childhood nickname.

Photo booth: Gold backdrop, boas, and everyone’s mom gets in.

THE SPEECHES

Your dad: Trying not to cry, talks about how he always knew Rafe was “solid.”

Rafe’s dad: “Didn’t think he could land someone this perfect, but here we are.”

Your maid of honor: Mentions summer camp, your bat mitzvah, and says you were always a little dramatic.

Rafe’s best man: Lightly roasts him. Mentions how whipped he is. Rafe doesn’t even deny it.

THE AFTERMATH

You leave in a vintage white Rolls-Royce.

Rafe carries you into the penthouse, both still tipsy.

He peels off your second dress like it’s a gift.

You whisper “we’re really married” and he whispers “finally.”

214 notes · View notes

pretty-little-mind33 · 10 months ago

Text

FEM!READER PULLING HIS TIE!

(ft. aaron taylor johnson characters)

ask: The boys u currently take requests for and their reactions to reader pulling them close by their tie plz plz plz I'll worship you forever🙏🙏🙏

warnings: implied explicit themes

includes - in said order

~ James Potter - harry potter marauders era (yes ik it's technically a fancast but he's my baby)

~ Tangerine - bullet train

~ Dave Lizewski - kick-ass

~ Count Alexei Vronksy - anna karenina 2012

~ Tom Ryder - the fall guy

~ Pietro Maximoff - avengers: age of ultron

~ worship me forever you say? 😏 ~

• James and his parents host plenty of fancy parties at the Potter mansion. They're always fun but formal, which means, obviously, James is wearing a suit and a tie.

• As his girlfriend, he insists that your dress matches his tie. He's very very serious when he says it. Like, dead serious. He'll pout if you don't and you find it slightly annoying, if not endearing.

• During the party, you'll mingle with your friends and have a blast. You and James don't have to stay connected at the hip, but he'll always check in on you.

• You'll have a few drinks, being slightly tipsy. James is as tipsy and he'll make a joke as you stumble towards each other, your hand fiddling with his tie.

• "You look like someone hit you with a bludger," James will giggle, his words slurred.

• You'll smirk and your hand tightens around his tie, yanking him down to your height, pressing your lips onto his and savoring his taste. He tastes like the expensive cherry wine his Mum adores.

• Obviously, this turns James on and he has to control himself from ravaging you in the middle of the dance floor because that isn't very gentlemanly of him.

• Tangerine always wears his suit out. He has an assortment of suits, mostly in different shades of blue (to match his eyes but he'll never admit to that.)

• You love his suits because you find them sexy. He knows you love them so he feels ever sexier.

• "Stop starin' at me like that," he'll joke, glaring as he walks by you.

• He loves when you stare.

• Often, you'll use his tie to pull him places whenever you want him to follow you. The small gesture of dominance turning him on so badly. Tangerine is usually the one in control, but not this time 😉

• Tangerine will happily follow you like a puppy, being lead by his tie and Lemon makes fun of him, which only earns him a middle finger from his brother.

• Pull him in by his tie and kiss him? He's head over heels, he's a goner

• 100% secretly likes when you're in charge (you know this)

• "You like when I pull you around, huh?"

• He'll nod. You make him a mess and he can't bring himself to care.

• Dave only wears a suit and a tie on special occasions and so because it's rare to see him in formal attire, when you do it does always make it extra special.

• You can't keep your hands off him and he's obsessed.

• "Mm, you look so pretty, Davey," you'll whisper in his ear, your fingers gliding over smooth the material of his tie (you'd helped him tie it)

• Dave's cheeks will burn a bright pink and you'll stroke some of his dark curls behind his ear, touching where his ears have turned pink too as your smile widens. You love making him flustered!

• If you're at a school dance, you'll be attached to his hip the entire time.

• It's your fourth dance and just as the evening dies down and it's his turn to press a kiss to your cheek, missing your lips by a little.

• You'll smirk and use his tie to guide his head so he doesn't miss your lips this time. The kiss surprises him as he blushes from embarrassment and also his overwhelming love for you.

• Does Alexei wear ties or bow ties?!

• Well either way, there is always something to grab onto (😏) and because your favorite thing to do is help him dress before a night out, adjusting his cuffs and collar for example, you use it to your advantage.

• "Why do you have a cheeky look on your face, dove?" He'll ask, his blue eyes narrowing as his gaze then flickers to the mirror behind him to check his appearance.

• "No reason, my love," you whisper.

• There is a reason.

• Once you finish, you smile up at him and pull him closer, your hand wrapped around the fabric, as you kiss his lips passionately.

• When you pull away, his cheeks are flushed and he can barely form words. His hands slide down your waist and tighten.

• "Do it again, please," Alexei will whisper in your ear.

• Tom is a cocky asshole. He prides himself on always being on top. But you being his girlfriend, it comes with certain perks.

• You have him wrapped around your finger as you push him against his trailer, kissing him roughly. Tom is loving the attention as he makes snarky comments between kisses.

• You grab his tie, the one he's wearing for his costume, and pull harshly. You bite on his lip, causing a yelp from him and a faint blush to grace his features.

• "Shit," Tom groans, his eyes wide.

• You'll pull away and tighten your hand around his tie. "You like that?"

• Tom nods and pulls you in for another kiss.

• Pietro is always bouncing around, so to get him to stay still is a pretty hard task.

• You're at an Avengers party when you see him fidgeting with this tie in the corner, either anxious to leave or anxious to be here. You feel for him.

• So, you walk over and stand directly in front of him. "Are you okay, Pietro?" you ask kindly, watching him fiddle with the tie. It‘a quite badly done.

• You smile and pull his hand away gently. Pietro startles, his cheeks turning pink as he feels embarrassed. "Papa n-never taught me," he says, sounding shyer than you've ever seen him.

• "It's okay. I can do it for you," you hum and tie his tie correctly. "Why didn't you ask Clint?"

• Pietro would shrug, looking away. "I was embarrassed," he admits, looking even more embarrassed.

• He looks at you, his heart beat pounding so hard. Yours does the same, your fingers curling in his tie as you slowly pull him in. Your lips hover above his for a moment, hesitating.

• Pietro is the one who kisses you, finding his cheeky charm again as the embarrassment from the situation fades.

• "How long you been wanting to do that?" he teases.

• You roll your eyes at him, swatting his arm.

859 notes · View notes

stevesgother · 2 months ago

Note

okay i’ve never requested smut before but i always have ideas so it’s time to face my fears 💀 what ab having a nice valentines night in w steve but not being able to keep their hands of off each other during the movie they’re watching and just being tipsy on champagne and giggly and all the sweet stuff

sorry that this took me 18,000 years to get to? i was waiting for inspiration to strike bc i wanted your first smut request to be everything you've ever hoped for! <3 18+ mdni, fluffy tipsy little guys, needy kinda sub steve, dry humping mmm, stevie coming in his pants :(, alcohol consumption, established relationship

buzzed

"Can we watch Top Gun again?" You giggle with your lips wrapped around a bottle of cheap champagne. Steve only wants to watch you.

"You just wanna ogle at Tom Cruise for two hours without facing the consequences," Steve accuses through a giggle of his own, reaching for the bottle in your greedy hands.

"Nooooo,"

"Yessssss," He mocks, successfully snatching the alcohol from you and taking a long pull. Your eyes follow the column of muscles in his neck moving as he swallows, longing to reach over and have a taste for yourself. So you do.

Steve makes a surprised noise as you climb into his lap, bracketing his hips with your thighs. You let your hands roam freely with a mind of their own-- ending up tangled in his hair. Steve has to struggle in order to set down the open beverage before it has the chance to spill all over his mom's expensive rug.

"Mph-- someone's eager," he tries to play it cool, but you can hear the barely suppressed moan when your lips suck softly on the spot just below his ear.

"You know how I get when you give me booze," you hum, "starting to think this was your plan all along,"

You hadn't realized until Steve grabbed your hips to keep you moving that you'd started to roll your hips lazily over his crotch; the boy's sweatpants tenting where your pelvises meet.

He was starting to lose his composure, and you could feel it. It was in the way he kept his grip bruising on your waist and how he began thrusting harder into your clothed core. You hoped the wet patch forming in your pajama shorts wouldn't stain his pants. Or maybe that it would.

"Can I take this off?" Steve asks, referring to the thin t-shirt you were wearing, your nipples pebbling underneath the fabric at even the suggestion of his mouth on them.

You nod, your head thrown back in pleasure as a particularly firm roll of Steve's hips catches on your sensitive spot of nerves. He wastes no time taking your breast into his mouth, using his rough palm to knead the other one and trusting you to keep up the rhythmic grinding that you two had fallen into.

Steve hums around your nipple, licking and sucking and making genuinely obscene noises before switching sides. You tangle your fingers once again in his hair, because you know it'll make him groan louder; the vibrations shooting through you all the way to your needy core.

"Thought you wanted to watch a movie," Steve pants.

"I'm good like this, I think,"

You reach to undo the tie in Steve's sweatpants, but he stops you abruptly, "No-- keep them on. Feels so good." Theres a dark patch where the tip of his cock would be when you look down, turning the light grey of his pants into something darker. You don't know if it's from his arousal or yours, and you don't particularly care to find out, but it makes your mouth water all the same.

Every push and pull of your bodies shoves you that much closer to the edge of your pleasure, and you make sure to tell Steve as much. Your boyfriend loves to run his mouth, but he won't admit that he loves it even more when you're to one talking filthily. It's not something you find the courage to attempt often, making it that much more erotic when you do. In this haze of alcohol and bliss you've found yourself suspended in; you find it easier than ever.

"Don't stop, baby--" you gasp, "your cock feels so good like this,"

Steve's eyes widen beneath you, his brain trying to catch up with his ears, "Yeah?" He says, dumbly.

"Yes." You bury your head in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply. He smells like cedar and sweat and Steve. "Gonna come like this--"

If you both weren't so wet, the friction probably would've hurt. But the mixture of champagne and weed and pure, unadulterated love had you leaking on Steve's lap, and you imagined he was probably fairing similarly to you now.

Your vision whites and your hearing goes, and everything is dark for one, beautiful moment. You let yourself fall into it-- fall into Steve. A long, sweet noise of release escaping from between your teeth, straight into Steve's ear.

"There you go, baby," he ruts faster, chasing his own pleasure and holding you as you come down. You don't cease the rocking of your hips-- wanting him to fall into this post-coital bliss with you.

"Gonna make me come, oh-- oh," and you can feel the hum of his soft moans through your chest, settling somewhere deep in your bones. You stroke his hair, talking him through it, "That's it, good boy. Coming in your pants for me, poor baby." He can hear your pout before he sees it.

Steve almost comes again. Something he's pretty sure isn't even anatomically possible right now, but you've never talked to him like that before and he's beginning to discover some things about himself.

Before he has a moment to process any of what just happened, you're climbing casually off his lap and walking topless to his bedroom. He doesn't move, not an inch. Just sits there, trying and failing to force his breathing to return to normal.

You return with a new pair of boxers for him, his favorite plaid pajama pants and a warm washcloth. Without a word, you slip his soiled pants from his hips-- cleaning his release from his skin with a loving touch, making sure to avoid the areas where he's still sensitive.

"Here," you smile softly at him when you've finished. Steve takes the new clothes from you, awestruck. His eyes sparkle in the glow of the television behind you. Or maybe it's the love he feels for you seeping out of every orifice in his body.

"Okay," he whispers, refusing to move his gaze off of you. He's been taken care of before, of course-- satisfied, if you will. But not like this. Never like this. And when he lets you hold him once you've both regained your decency, falling into a soft sleep on his couch, he knows it's you, or nothing at all.

305 notes · View notes

dreaming-of-epiphanies · 2 months ago

Text

𝓝𝓮𝔀 𝓨𝓮𝓪𝓻'𝓼 𝓓𝓪𝔂 - part 2

Link to part 1 if you missed it

Description: As the unresolved tension between Reader and Tom continues, Tom decides to make it clear where they stand. (Slytherin!fem!Reader x Tom Riddle, academic rivals to lovers, smut warning)

A/N: Soo like I said this was supposed to only be one part but I wrote too much and now this is the second (and final) part. Tbh, I'm not sure how the flow of the two feel together so if anyone thinks I should re-edit and add another part, let me know! Also, full transparency, this part is really just seven pages of smut (in google docs format).

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT. mdni, 18+, unprotected p in v, language. This is the most explicit fic I've posted yet (so I'd love feedback on whether the smut was too much, written well or not, etc!)

For the next couple of weeks, you felt like you were playing some sort of strange game of cat and mouse. You’d stalk up to Riddle to talk to him, then change your mind at the last minute and scurry away. He’d ignore you in class and in the halls, but somehow be in every room you were in. It was infuriating, and the worst part was that you didn’t know if you were supposed to be the cat or the mouse in this scenario.

As yet another week went by without any resolution to the tension, you got more and more agitated. Other than a couple more staring matches (as in, he stared at you when you stopped sitting next to him in class and you resolutely ignored him), you didn’t have any interactions with him. You tried to keep yourself from thinking about it, but as they had a tendency to do, your thoughts always seemed to wander back to him.

It was fairly obvious what was bothering you, so in an effort to distract you, your friends dragged you along to the Quidditch game the following weekend. It was Slytherin versus Gryffindor, so naturally the stands were packed. Seemingly everyone went, but Riddle was conspicuously absent. You let yourself be carried away in the fun, and agreed to come to the afterparty in the Slytherin common as well. After what had happened the last time you’d drank too much, you told yourself you’d only have one or two shots of firewhiskey, but two hours and three very persuasive friends later, you found yourself drunk once more. Not as bad as the last time, you were sure, but still enough you were talking way more than you should’ve been.

And talking to people you shouldn’t have been.

Sometime during your tipsy haze, you spotted Riddle walking quickly from his dorm towards the exit of the common room. You hadn’t thought about him until you started drinking, but once you had you’d started to get mad and upset and hurt, and seeing him gave you a fantastic idea.

You were going to go talk to him.

He had his bag with him and was presumably on his way to the library, but that didn’t stop you from stumbling over to him and grabbing clumsily at his cloak sleeve.

“Riddle!” You said abruptly, and he turned to look at you. His brow furrowed as you put your hands on your hips and tried your best to look commanding. Obviously, you just looked funny, but in your mind you were the perfect picture of confident and imposing.

You opened your mouth to tell him just how mad you were that you couldn’t even remember sleeping with him, when you got distracted by his careful sweep of hair and sparkling mahogany eyes.

“Yes?” He said when a full thirty seconds passed in silence.

“You’re pretty,” you mumbled, smiling up at him. He stared at you, and then just as he started to say something, someone roughly grabbed your elbow and pulled you back towards them.

“Nope!” You heard Amelia say. “You are not talking to Riddle while drunk. We all know how that turned out last time.” You glared up at her but allowed yourself to be dragged away. She was probably right, after all.

You cast a longing look back in Riddle’s direction, only to see he had left the common room. You tried not to feel too disappointed. If he wanted to talk to you, he would. Maybe he didn’t want to take things further after your one-night stand.

You blinked back tears at that prospect.

༺ ✧ ༻

The weekend passed without any other encounters with Riddle. You were half relieved and half disappointed, because although you didn’t remember your drunken hookup, you did remember calling him pretty. You winced every time you thought of it.

On Monday, though, things took a turn.

Since you hadn’t seen Riddle since the party, you weren’t looking forward to seeing him in Defence early Monday morning. You arrived early to class, as usual, and began unpacking your things. The classroom was empty when you came in, but not even two minutes later Riddle walked through the door. Your gaze flicked up to him and your eyes met for a split second before quickly turning your attention back to your quill and inkpot.

The classroom slowly began to fill up, and once Merrythought arrived and started the lesson, you resolved to keep your attention focused on your notes and definitely not on Riddle.

Unfortunately, barely twenty minutes in, you were absorbed in a mindless daydream of not being on Riddle, but under him.

It really was a spectacular daydream, and you would’ve happily continued on with it for the rest of class were it not for the feeling of someone’s intense gaze on you.

You slowly turned your head and immediately, your eyes cut to Riddle’s. He met your slightly horrified expression with a small smirk. Oh God, he was reading your mind!

You stood up instantly. “Excuse me,” you said, trying to keep your voice from shaking. “May I visit the Hospital Wing? I’m afraid I’m going to be sick.” It wasn’t a complete lie. You did feel a little like you were going to vomit.

Professor Merrythought excused you, looking a little concerned, and you quickly gathered your stuff and rushed out of the classroom, making a beeline for the dungeons to go to your dorm.

You didn’t make it far before you heard your name being called sharply behind you.

“What?!” You exclaimed, spinning to face Riddle. He was smirking at you, and without another word, he grabbed your hand and pulled you into a small study room.

“You’ve been thinking about me.” He said matter-of-factly as soon as the door was shut behind you.

“No! I- I just…” you stammered, and he laughed, stepping closer.

“It’s alright,” he murmured in a low voice. “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

His tone and words sent a shiver down your spine. “You have?” You whispered, as he put a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“I have,” he echoed, pressing a light kiss to your collarbone. You shuddered. “I’ve been remembering…” He kissed another spot a little harder, sucking until you let out a small moan. He hummed and drew back.

“Have you been remembering too?” He asked, and you could only stare at him for a second before shaking your head mutely.

“I was too drunk to remember much,” you admitted, swallowing as his eyes dropped to your lips.

“How much do you remember?” Riddle asked as one of his hands drifted up to your face, gently stroking your jaw and down the length of your throat.

“I remember the first part of the party… I took a few shots and had a couple of goblets of firewhiskey, I know. And I remember falling onto you, then us talking and dancing.” You explained, frowning. “And I think I remember leaning up to kiss you. But that’s where my memory stops.”

Riddle nodded, continuing to look at you curiously.

“That’s it?” He asked.

“That’s it,” you confirmed. He nodded again, eyes still trained on you. “I don’t even remember the sex,” you added with a wry smile.

“Hm,” Riddle stepped closer, tilting his head to the side and smirking slightly. “I remember it.”

Your eyebrows raised, but you didn’t say anything as he nodded, taking another step closer.

“It was good,” he continued quietly and your heart picked up speed. “Very good.”

“Yeah?” You said breathlessly as he stepped up right to you, face inches from your own.

“I believe you said it was the best you’ve ever had,” he said and your face flushed, but you couldn’t help biting back a smile.

“I’m not surprised,” you admitted, and his lips twitched in a smirk, humming satisfactorily.

“It’s a shame you don’t remember it,” he continued, his voice dropping an octave suggestively.

“It is,” you agreed, leaning your head back to look at him. His eyes were on yours, dark and filled with lust. Your breathing hitched as he took the final step closer, backing you against the door, your hips hitting the wood with a soft thud.

“Let’s help you remember,” he murmured, and he bent down, connecting his lips to yours.

You immediately leaned into the kiss, wasting no time in opening your mouth and wrapping your arms around his shoulders. His lips were warm and soft and he tasted faintly spicy, like firewhiskey but more tangy. He slid his hands from your shoulders down your side, brushing the side of your breasts in such a tantalizingly brief touch that a shiver ran through you.

His hands found your hips, rubbing circles with his thumbs as he continued to kiss you, slow and sensual. Your hands ran up and down his arms, gently squeezing at his biceps and slightly sinking your nails into his skin. He let out a low, almost choked groan and all of a sudden roughly grabbed your waist and pulled you into him as the kiss turned fierce.

It wasn’t long before his lips moved from your lips to your jaw, down the side of the neck, and to the neckline of your shirt. You pulled your hands away from where they were ravaging his hair long enough to yank the shirt off, tossing it on the ground before leaning back in, already reaching back up around his neck. His hands on your shoulders stopped you, though.

You looked up in confusion to see his eyes raking down your figure, taking in every inch of the skin you just exposed to him like he has to memorise it for a test. A smirk appeared on his face when he saw you were wearing the same green, lace bra you did when you first hooked up.

“You wore that just for me, hm?” He said with a satisfied smirk that’s so damn sexy you wanted him to shut up and kiss you already. “You wanted this to happen.”

“I did,” you said breathlessly, smiling up at him in challenge. “So are you going to do something about it, or-”

The rest of your sentence got cut off as he swooped in again, kissing you harshly and running his hands up and down your torso, kneading your breasts with a firm pressure that had you sighing with pleasure into the kiss.

Less than five minutes in and he already had you moaning. Merlin, the sex must’ve been really, really good.

One of his hands slid behind you, deftly unclasping your bra. You reached up to slip it off but his hands stopped yours, breaking the kiss to murmur in a low voice; “Let me.”

You nodded quickly and lowered your hands. He slowly slid the straps down your arms, grazing your skin with such a hot touch it had you shifting side to side, needing his touch everywhere else. He gave you a wicked smirk, continuing to slowly remove the bra until it reached your wrists and he let it drop, stepping back to admire you.

“You look beautiful,” he said quietly. “But there’s something missing.”

You quirked your eyebrows at this. “What?” You asked curiously. His eyes cut to yours, gleaming dangerously.

“Something that marks you as mine,” he whispered in a gravely tone before latching his lips onto your neck.

“God,” you gasped as your head fell back, overtaken by the sensation of his lips on you. He kissed across your neck, nipping at the delicate skin there. You distantly registered that it was going to be difficult to hide them tomorrow, but then you forgot how to think because he began grazing his mouth down your chest.

“Tom,” you choked as he kissed your breast, overwhelmed and more turned on than you’ve ever been in your life. You were pretty sure your panties were soaked at this point.

“Yes?” He asked, barely pulling away from your skin. You were going to say something about how maybe you should go to his room or somewhere that has a bed, but the way he was looking at you told you he wasn’t intending to wait, and neither were you.

“My skirt,” you panted, “take it off.”

He grinned wickedly, pressing another kiss to your chest before drawing away and back up to eye level. He leaned his face close to yours, slowly sliding his hands down your sides. He trailed his fingers teasingly across your stomach until you were groaning in frustration.

“Fuck you, Riddle, just touch me already!” You exclaimed, and his fingers hooked into your skirt, quickly pulling it down around your ankles. He stepped in again, hands going immediately to your ass as you pulled him into another kiss.

He ran one hand all across your body as you kissed him, biting at his lower lip until you tasted the deliciously metal flavor of his blood. He groaned and pulled both hands to your front, leaning away just slightly.

“I’ll buy you another pair,” he promised, and you frowned in confusion for a split second before you heard a rip and your panties were torn off of you. Then his lips were on yours again and his hands were moving down, down…

He brushed his fingers over your folds and you gasped, an electric shudder going through you.

“So wet for me,” he murmured, voice low and enticing. He slid another finger against you and you tossed your head back in blind pleasure, landing it hard against the door. You barely felt the sting from it though, because all you could focus on was his hand working between your legs.

You grasped at his arms, tightening your hands as his fingers moved, slowly stroking you until your breath started coming more shallow. Only then did he gently insert a finger, barely into you but you let out a moan, inhaling shakily as he chuckled, deep and throaty.

“You want this, don’t you?” He asked, adding another finger to tantalizingly dip into you. “You want me to touch you like this until you come all over my fingers?”

“Fuck, Tom,” you panted, barely able to contain yourself or stop your legs from trembling.

“As you wish,” he murmured, and pushed his fingers in. All at once you let out a moan as his fingers stretched you, dizzy with the sensation.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, sliding his fingers back before pushing them in once more, overwhelming you with friction. Your head fell back against the wall again, breaths coming in short gasps and legs shaking beneath you. He curled his fingers and you cried out, clawing at his arm.

“So needy, so desperate,” he hummed, adding additional pressure on your clit, making you cry out even more. “I like that.”

He continued on like this until you started seeing stars at the edge of your vision and electricity pulsed through your veins. You felt a rising in your lower belly and you chased the high, about to be pushed over the edge when all of a sudden Tom’s fingers vanished.

You looked up immediately in confusion and mild irritation, but your mouth went dry when you saw him shrugging off his shirt and roughly pulling at his belt.

“Need to be inside you when you come,” he got out in a strangled tone, throwing his belt to the ground and shoving his trousers and underwear down. You barely had time to react before his lips were on yours and he was grabbing your hips, roughly lining himself up with your entrance.

You gripped his shoulders, holding on so tightly you’d be surprised if he didn’t have marks on there tomorrow. He hovered his mouth over yours, gently nudging at your nose until you met his gaze. His eyes were dark and steady as he nodded, encouraging and tantalizing at the same time.

“This could be a lot,” he warned, and all it takes is you nodding once before he thrusted his hips forwards, sliding into you much faster than he probably should’ve. You let out a cry and he gripped you against his chest, humming his approval.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he rasped, deep and throaty.

Your eyes were shut tight as your head rested against the wall behind you. God, the feeling of him was amazing. Every single bit of your awareness was focused on him inside of you and you could already feel the anticipation building, a buzzing low in your stomach.

A hand at your throat pulled your attention back to his face.

“Look at me,” he murmured, voice low. “Look at me while I fuck you.”

And then he started to move.

It was slow at first, slow and sensual. He was letting you adjust to his size and the feeling of him in you, but it wasn’t long before you were clawing at his hair and gasping for air as he moved faster, roughly rocking into you as one hand supported you and the other ran across your body, all while he was kissing you hungrily.

Your legs were wrapped tightly around his waist and your hands were everywhere- in his hair, down his chest, across his biceps, and down to where he was still harshly rolling his hips into yours. You couldn’t get enough of him, he was hot and perfect and you just wanted to-

The hand that was currently tangling in your hair vanished suddenly, and then it was pulling your hands away from him and yanking them upwards. He pinned your wrists forcefully against the wall behind you and broke away from your mouth long enough to mutter “if you want me to last for much longer, darling, you’re going to have to stop touching me like that.” All you could do was nod as he pushed his mouth back onto yours.

He kissed you, pushing into your hips and tearing into you until he had you throwing your head back in sheer bliss. He moved his lips down to your throat, tracing a savage path across your neck. It wasn’t long before you’re both completely lost in sensation, his lips everywhere on your chest and your hands struggling in the vice grip he has them pinned in.

“Fucking hell, Tom,” you gasped as he pulled his mouth away from your neck and pressed a rough kiss to your lips, rolling into you faster and harder now.

The blood roared in your ears and static started to fill your senses, blurring out everything until all you could focus on was the feeling of Tom rocking into you, hitting that perfect spot and you were rising, electricity racing through you. You furiously chased that high until the heat in your lower stomach burst into flames and white-hot fireworks exploded at the edge of your vision as you came all around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he moved into you faster until he caught his own high, barely seconds after your own. He came just as hard, throatily rasping your name. He gripped your hip with one hand, the other still holding your wrists to the door as he kissed you roughly, letting you both ride out your climaxes.

When everything finally stopped being wonderfully hazy for you, you inhaled deeply and got a strong whiff of Tom’s woodsy-smelling cologne and the salty tang of his sweat. You were both panting against each other, lips still so close you were practically breathing the same air. Everything still felt heightened- every point of contact, every breath against the other’s skin, everything. You’d never felt anything quite so perfect.

Finally and much too soon, he released your hands and you dropped them onto his arms in exhaustion, holding loosely on. He bent his head and kissed your skin almost reverently.

“You,” he rasped, “are amazing.”

You let out a laugh despite yourself. “That was incredible,” you gasped, smiling at him and his completely sated expression. “I can safely say that was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

He laughed at that, rolling his eyes fondly as he slowly started to let you down, pulling out as he did so, though he kept his arms around you for support until your legs stopped shaking. Only then did he drop another kiss onto your head and pull away fully, bending to pick up your haphazardly discarded clothes.

You stepped forward to take your shirt and skirt for him when you caught a glimpse of yourself in a mirror. Your lips were swollen and you had a smattering of red marks across your neck and collarbone. Your makeup was all ruined and your hair was a mess.

“Tom, look what you did!” You exclaimed, smoothing at your hair in a half-attempt to get it to behave. “I have another class right after this.”

He smirked, stepping up behind you with his shirt half-buttoned. “I have no regrets,” he murmured, kissing your cheek. You turned to him and smiled, tilting your head to the side.

“Neither do I,” you agreed. “In fact… my room is open tonight, if you’d like to come.”

“‘If I’d like to come’?” He repeated slyly, and you winced slightly at the double entendre.

“You know what I mean,” you rolled your eyes, though you’re barely trying to bite back your grin.

“Well, then I would like to come.” He said, the roguish gleam still in his eyes. “Very much.”

“Good,” you smiled playfully, already leaning up to kiss him again. “Because I do too.”

A/N (again): Thank you for reading and feedback is always appreciated. I always get so excited when I get a comment notification!

taglist - @princesspeach0-0

let me know if you want me to add you to a taglist! I haven't thought about making one til now so if anyone's interested I'll do it :)

122 notes · View notes