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em1i2a3 · 6 days ago

Text

Tongue

Pairing: Rhett Abbott x Virgin!Fem!Reader

Summary: During a night out on the town with your friends, you are pushed into talking to a mysterious cowboy at a bar, who turns out to be one of the only blessings that Wabang has ever given you.

Warning: 18+ Minors DNI! Smut and Fluff, Mentions of Alcohol Consumption, Mentions of Grief and Death (Reader was a caregiver for her ailing father since she left high school), Reader kind of sidelined her life to take care of her father meaning she missed out on a lot of things and is looking to catch up (would I say angst? I don’t really know, but I will say possibly?)

Smut Warnings: Virginity Loss, Unprotected P in V Sex (protect yourselves friends. This is pure fantasy), There are discussions of purity/virginity (between friends, and between Rhett and Reader), Masturbation, Dirty Talk (that involves the mentioning of the readers virginity), Rhett is an attentive lover Jesus H Christ lol, Oral Sex (fem! Receiving), Fingering, Making Out and Dry Humping (a devilish combo), Praise and Worship Kink, Discussions about Birth Control, A bit of blood (not always an indicator of loss of virginity btw, just throwing that out there), Hickeys and Lovebites, Squirting, Nipple and Breastplay, Overstimulation, Very Gentle Hair Pulling, Being Held Down (in like a not forceful type of way!), Emotional/Physical Aftercare

Author’s Note: I got a request for this and I really liked the idea of it, but I also had to go all out because it’s Rhett frickin Abbott we’re talking about here. Yeehawwww. Anyways, enjoy another segment of RAF <3

Word Count: 17,045

The Branded Mare was quieter than usual for a Thursday night–not totally dead, but certainly not shoulder-to-shoulder either. A couple of pool games were underway near the back, the clack of billiard balls echoing gently under the low murmur of voices. Classic rock hummed from wall-mounted speakers above the booths–Fleetwood Mac, maybe, or Skynyrd–tinny and worn from years of play. Overhead, the lights were low and amber-hued, casting a warm haze over everything. The bulbs flickered every so often, the way they always did here, like the building itself was coughing dust out of its orifices.

It smelled like a half-hearted attempt at cleanliness–Pine-Sol, bleach, maybe a hint of lemon disinfectant in the corners–just strong enough to sting the nose if you breathed too deep. But underneath that was the true scent of the place: beer-soaked wood, old bar mats, fryer grease, and cigarettes drifting in from the cracked patio door every time someone stepped out for a smoke. It was the kind of bar that felt lived in–scarred barstools, a jukebox that always skipped the second verse, and carvings etched into the tabletops so deep you could run your thumb through someone’s initials and still feel the indent years later.

You and your friends had taken over one of the half-moon leather booths near the back–close enough to the bar to watch people come and go, but tucked just out of the way enough to talk shit without being overheard. The seat was sticky against your thighs where your denim shorts met skin, and the middle cushion sagged slightly, forcing everyone to sit a little too close. The table was cluttered: half-eaten fries going cold in a red plastic basket, a few longneck bottles sweating condensation onto paper napkins, a couple cocktails in mismatched glasses. Someone had spilled something early on, and now the wood beneath your forearm stuck just faintly when you moved.

Your friends were talking–laughing, teasing, making little jabs about town gossip or the girl from high school who just got engaged for the third time–but your attention had started to drift like it normally did when you weren’t in tune with the subject.

Your eyes scanned the place slowly, taking it in with a sort of lazy familiarity. A group of guys in baseball caps gathered near the jukebox, arguing about the next song. A couple older men sat at the bar, hunched over their drink like they had been planted there since 4PM. One woman danced alone by the dartboards, a beer in one hand, her flip-flop tapping against the sticky floor as she swayed out of rhythm to the music.

Then your gaze snagged on a figure, and you paused.

He was sitting at the bar, maybe two or three stools from the end, his back turned partway to you. He wasn’t someone you recognized–not from school, not from the feed store, not from church or town events either. But then again, you didn’t go out much–or you hadn’t been going out much until fairly recently. You certainly didn’t know everyone in town, not in the way your friends did. Maybe he was just passing through. Maybe he was local and liked to keep to himself. Either way, you knew you would’ve remembered seeing him before.

His hair was light brown, pushed back beneath a dark baseball cap that had seen some better days, the brain curved tight and low over his eyes. A few strands curled out from beneath it, damp near the nape of his neck like he had showered and hand’s bothered to blow dry–or maybe it was sweat…You had no idea. He was nursing a beer–bottle, not draft–slow and casual, like he wasn’t in any kind of rush. His posture was relaxed, one forearm propped on the bar top, the other cradling the bottle as he tipped it toward his mouth.

You couldn’t see his whole face–just the side of it, the angle teasing more than it revealed. A strong jaw, the faintest trace of stubble, lips that moved slowly as he spoke to the man beside him. His voice didn’t carry, but you could imagine it–low, maybe a little scratchy. Probably drawled and dripping with a southern twang only the men of Wabang had.

What you could see, though, was his build.

He was lean but solid. Broad shoulders under a navy flannel button-down, the fabric pulled slightly where it stretched over his upper back. His sleeves were rolled to the elbow, exposing tan forearms dusted with a little hair, and his jeans–well, they sat just right. Faded, worn a bit at the seams, hugging his thighs like they had been through hell and still clung to him out of loyalty. He didn’t look like he spent hours in a gym. He looked like he worked outside. Someone who used his body for ranch work, or even rodeo–a man carved from manual labor.

You didn’t mean to stare, but you couldn’t help it.

You stippled your drink absently, the lime-slicked gin and tonic turning watery from melted ice, and your gaze lingered–long enough for one of your friends to notice.

”I see you starin’ at that cowboy,” Jennifer stated, tilting her glass toward the bar with a smirk, “You want us to scoot so you can get a better view?” You blinked quickly as if she broke a spell of some sort.

”I’m not going up to him,” You replied, a little too quickly for your own liking.

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N, don’t be shy,” Leah added, nudging your hip under the table, “You’ve been picking from the douchebag buffet lately. A cowboy like that?” She motioned to the man standing at the bar, “They usually know how to treat a woman right.” You rolled your eyes, taking another sip from your drink.

”I’m not looking for candidates to take my virginity tonight, if that’s what all of you are thinking.” They burst out laughing at that joke, leaning in over the table, their drinks sloshing slightly as they hooted and snorted and covered their faces. You shook your head at them, your cheeks warming slightly, but a reluctant smile tugged at your lips anyway.

”It doesn’t hurt to flirt,” Sam said through her laughter, “Maybe he’s not into hookups. Maybe he’s decent…And maybe…Just maybe, y’all will hit it off.”

“He doesn’t look standoffish,” Leah chimed in, “And he’s got a nice ass…I won’t lie.” You let out a breath, but your eyes wandered back to him anyway, even through your friends teasing you.

From across the bar, Rhett Abbott wasn’t exactly trying to eavesdrop–but the laughter carried and echoed through the enclosed space, and it was hard to ignore.

Bits and pieces of conversation reached him between guitar riff and clinking glassware, muffled by the music but just clear enough to snag his attention.

He’d caught the words: Cowboy, Virginity, and Nice Ass. The last one made his brow twitch upward, and his lips parted in the faintest grin before he caught himself. He let his eyes wander casually across the bar, lifting his beer for another sip as he scanned the room nonchalantly.

It took a second to find your booth. And when he did, he knew. There wasn’t another group it could’ve been. His eyes lingered for a moment.

You were sitting with three other girls, all of you leaning in close, laughing like you’d just said something scandalous and immediately regretted it. You had your head tilted slightly, one shoulder drawn in like you were trying to disappear into yourself–and he could tell you were warm with embarrassment. Even from here, he could clock it instantly that you were the black sheep of your friend group–which wasn’t a bad thing at all.

The others were smirking, biting down on their straws, whispering into each other’s ears between giggles. One of them flicked her eyes toward the bar–toward him and Rhett watched as you tried not to follow their gaze.

He bit the inside of his cheek, ducking his head slightly.

“What’re you smilin’ for?” Perry asked, leaning over, his voice just above the low hum of the room. He had one hand on a sweating bottle of Coors and the other lazily spinning a beer coaster between his fingers. Rhett scratched the back of his neck, shaking his head a little like he was embarrassed to even say it out loud.

”Think I’ve got a fan club in ‘ere.” He said, voice rough with amusement, “I hear some girls talkin’ about me.” He glanced over at Perry, seeing his eyebrow was raised.

”Yeah?” Rhett nodded toward your table with the tip of his bottle.

“Booth in the corner. Four girls. Laughin’ like they’re up to somethin’.” Perry followed his gaze. It didn’t take long to find your table–too many sideways glances, too many hands covering mouths like they were trying not to be obvious–even though they were doing an extremely poor job. Perry smirked.

”You’re right on that one. They’re definitely talkin’ about you.” Rhett laughed under his breath, rubbing the edge of his thumb against the label on his bottle.

”Can’t imagine why. I’m just sittin’ and drinkin’.”

“It’s that goddamn shirt n’ jean combination…It attracts all the ladies…I told you this.” Perry said with a pointed glance at Rhett’s outfit.

“Maybe I just wear clothes that fit me properly,” He deadpanned, tilting the bottle to his mouth to take another swig of beer.

“You gonna talk to ‘em?” Rhett’s brow lifted at the question, swallowing.

”You dare me?”

“Hell yeah, I dare you,” Perry replied instantly, “I’ll pay for your next beer if you go over and strike up a conversation with ‘em.” Rhett paused, turning the bottle slowly in his hand.

The truth was, Rhett had been thinking about going over from the second he heard your laugh–quiet, a little self-conscious, like it had snuck out before you could stop it. He’d noticed you before the teasing, before the sideways glances, before the odd set of words floated across the bar and almost made him choke on his drink.

You stood out, even tucked into the corner like you were trying not to. Not because you were louder or flashier than the rest–if anything, the opposite. While your friends leaned into each other, bold and easy in their comfort, you sat just slightly apart, shoulders drawn in, one hand loosely curled around your drink like you were grounding yourself.

He wasn’t downgrading the others. Hell, they were all pretty in their own right, the kind of girls who turned heads the second they walked in. But you–

You were the one that made his heart stutter.

Maybe it was the way you watched the room with those soft, perceptive eyes, like you didn’t just see people–you read them. Maybe it was the way you carried yourself–thoughtful, a little guarded, like you’d learned to measure twice and speak once.

Rhett didn’t know what it was, not exactly. But he was curious. And that curiosity was burning like a fuse.

So when Perry threw out the dare and dangled a free beer on the end of it, it was really just icing on the cake. He took the last swig from his bottle and thunked it down on the bar.

“All right then,” He said, rolling his shoulders back with the kind of quiet anticipation that looked more like he was about to hop on a bull than walk across a bar. “Wish me luck.”

“Go get your fan club president,” Perry smirked, already fishing out his wallet.

Rhett adjusted his hat just enough so the low brim wouldn’t shadow his face, then turned and made his way toward your table–easy strides, relaxed, but with that faint electricity crackling just beneath the surface.

The second he stepped within earshot, your group fell quiet. Not instantly–but that kind of rippling quiet, where each girl caught on a second after the last. One by one, your heads turned.

And when you looked up at him–

Your lips parted slightly.

You didn’t even mean to. It just happened, automatic, like your breath caught before your brain had a chance to play it cool.

Because God.

Up close, he was even more than you’d imagined.

His face was all sun-carved angles and soft contradictions–high cheekbones, a strong jawline dusted with stubble that looked like it would scrape in the most delicious way. His skin was golden from time spent outdoors, a faint pink clinging to the high points of his cheeks and nose like he’d just come off the trail. And his eyes–

You could see them now.

Clear, startling blue. Not icy. Bright. Like sky after rain. Like river water in the deepest pocket of the bend. His lashes were thick, almost annoyingly so, and framed his gaze with a softness that balanced the rugged set of his brow. He looked like someone who’d seen his fair share of shit and had come out the other side weathered–but still good.

“Evenin’, ladies,” He drawled, voice smooth as warm honey and twice as slow. He tipped his baseball hat slightly, more charming than cocky, just enough to tease. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. Just thought I oughta come introduce myself, since I heard y’all had a few opinions about my ass…The name’s Rhett.”

Your friends broke into immediate laughter–delighted, unfiltered, hands over mouths like teenagers again.

You blinked hard and had to look away for a second. Goddamn it, he was funny too.

Jennifer leaned forward with a grin. “We were just admiring the view, cowboy. You can’t blame us.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” He said, grinning easily as his gaze flicked across the table–but it kept returning to you. Like clockwork. Like reflex.

You felt it–every time he looked, your chest got tighter. Your fingers pressed just a little harder around your drink. And when he caught you looking back at him?

Your lashes fluttered. Stupid. Obvious. And you hated how it made your stomach twist.

“I’m Jen,” She said brightly. “That’s Leah. And Sam.”

“Nice to meet y’all,” Rhett nodded, polite and warm. Then, after the briefest pause, he tilted his chin toward you. “But does the quiet one have a name?” You felt your throat tighten. The way he said it wasn’t pointed or pushy. It was gentle. Curious. Like he’d already picked you out and wanted to peel back the layers without spooking you. His voice dipped soft on quiet, like it was a trait he admired instead of teased.

You cleared your throat, sitting up slightly, the heat blooming up the back of your neck as you finally met his eyes head-on.

”…It’s Y/N.” His mouth twitched at the corner, and you saw it–how he bit gently on the inside of his lip like he was tucking something in. His voice dropped just a little when he repeated it.

“Y/N.”

There was weight to it. Drawl thick and reverent, like he was already tasting it on his tongue.

“Pretty name,” He said, soft and sure. “Fits you.”

And just like that, it hit you–hard.

The way your name sounded coming from his mouth. The way his eyes stayed on you even as your friends kept chattering beside him. The way your body was suddenly so aware of every inch of itself–knees pressed together, fingers twitching against the edge of the table, mouth dry.

Rhett’s eyes dropped to the melting ice in your glass, then lifted again, catching your gaze with a faint tilt of his head.

“Mind if I buy you a fresher drink?” He asked, voice low and a little playful, his fingers flicking subtly toward your half-dead gin and tonic.

You glanced down, lips curling slightly as you shifted the glass between your fingertips. The lime had sunk to the bottom, pale rind bobbing listlessly. The condensation had pooled beneath it in a ring, sticking faintly to your skin every time you moved your hand.

“Not at all,” You murmured, soft but clear enough that it cut through the static of your own nerves.

His mouth twitched–not quite a smile, but something just as warm–and then his tongue darted out, quick and unthinking, to wet the center of his bottom lip. Your eyes snagged on it before you could stop yourself. That faint sheen of moisture catching on pink skin, the way it lingered for just a second too long. It made something catch low in your throat.

“What’re you havin’?” He asked. You cleared your throat gently.

“Gin and tonic,” You replied, voice catching just enough to make you wince internally. You weren’t used to stammering. Not over a man. Certainly not over a stranger. Rhett gave a single, quiet nod.

”Gin and tonic it is…” He said with a slow drawl, and then–because of course he had to make things worse–he added “I’ll be right back…Y/N.” And he winked. A soft, subtle little thing. More a twitch of one eyelid than anything grand. But paired with the way he said your name? You nearly forgot how to breathe.

You watched him walk back to the bar–broad shoulders moving with an unhurried confidence, fingers tapping a rhythm on the neck of his empty bottle as he passed a couple other tables. When he reached the counter, he rapped his knuckles gently against the wood, motioning toward the bartender, then turned to say something to the guy beside him.

Jennifer let out a low whistle beside you, cutting through the haze.

“You sure you don’t wanna lose your virginity tonight?” You laughed–more like sputtered through a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“I’m sure,” you said with a shake of your head, watching the bartender hand Rhett a glass that immediately began sweating in the heat of the bar. “But I’m certainly going to be thinking about this man when I go home tonight…Preferably under my covers.” The girls all leaned in at once, delighted by your confession. Sam giggled into her straw. Leah’s jaw dropped.

“You gonna get his number?” She asked.

“Oh Jesus, definitely,” You said, voice a little too loud with conviction. “Did you see him? Holy fuck. If I wasn’t so nervous, I’d ask him to throw me down on this table right now an–”

“My God, and you call us the sex-crazed ones?” Jen cut in, eyebrows raised with mock scandal.

You ducked your head, laughing as your cheeks flamed hotter. “Well sue me for being behind on the whole dating sphere.”

Leah raised both hands in surrender, smirking. “Hey, we’re not judging. Least you have a bit of a reason for it.” You nodded, gripping your glass tighter to hide how warm your palms had gotten.

“Exactly. Let me live.” And just as you said it, Rhett turned from the bar.

He reached your table like he’d never left it, moving with that same easy confidence, one drink in each hand, the condensation trailing lazily down the side of the glass he’d brought for you.

Without a word, he set the gin and tonic down in front of you, sliding it gently across the table.

Your eyes caught on his hands.

They were exactly what you’d imagined–broad, rough around the edges, with strong knuckles and faint scars scattered across the backs like stories he’d never tell out loud. Calloused fingertips, short nails. Hands that had gripped reins, maybe tools. Hands that worked for a living.

But despite the wear and grit, his touch was careful. Thoughtful. Like he knew how to handle things that could break easy.

“Here you go,” He said softly. “A nice cold one.”

You murmured a quiet thank you, fingers brushing the cool glass where his hand had just been.

Then, with the kind of grin that made your heart knock around in your ribs, Rhett tilted his head and added, “Bartender said you gotta pay me back with your number.”

Your friends lost it. Laughter burst across the booth like fireworks, quick and high and delighted. Sam slapped the table. Leah whooped under her breath. Jen bit her straw like she couldn’t contain herself.

You, somehow, didn’t flinch.

You blinked once, then let a slow smile tug at your lips as you leaned in ever so slightly and said, “Got your phone?”

His brows lifted just a little, surprised–but in a good way. Like he’d been ready for a polite no and was suddenly on the receiving end of a yes that knocked the air out of him.

“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “Yeah, I do.”

He pulled it from his back pocket–an older iPhone, a little scuffed around the edges, the case cracked in one corner–and handed it over without a second thought.

You took it from him, careful not to brush his fingers even though the air between your hands felt charged enough to spark. The screen was already unlocked. No password. Just a plain home screen with a photo of a horse in the background and only a couple of apps.

You tapped into his contacts.

There weren’t many. Maybe a dozen names, tops. But you didn’t dwell on that.

Instead, you added your number under your name and typed in a little note beside it: Branded Mare. Gin & Tonic Girl.

Then you handed it back, your fingers grazing his this time–light, unintentional, but enough to make him glance up at you with something unreadable in his eyes. Something slow and focused.

“Appreciate that,” He drawled, voice low.

You both held that look for a beat too long. Then he stepped back, just slightly, enough to give you space but not enough to feel like he wanted to go.

“I’ll give you a call in the morning,” He said, tipping his head gently, “Make sure you got home safe.”

You nodded, smiling without meaning to.

“But for now…” He added, glancing around at your friends, who were all shamelessly eavesdropping behind grins and wide eyes, “I’ll leave you ladies to whatever it is you were doin’ before I came over and stirred things up.”

He gave a polite nod to the group. “Pleasure meetin’ all of you.”

Then, just before turning to go, he looked at you one last time–and gave you a wink.

And it wasn’t smug. Wasn’t cocky.

It was sweet. Like a secret. Like something he’d tucked into his back pocket for later.

You watched him walk away, your drink sweating in front of you, your heart pounding somewhere in your throat.

And all you could think was–

Holy shit.

Because Rhett Abbott had just walked straight out of your daydreams and into real life.

—————————

Rhett didn’t waste any time giving you a call the next morning. His voice was still thick with sleep, a soft rasp at the edges like he hadn’t been up long—and somehow, that made it even better. That low, gravelly drawl slipped through the phone and straight into your spine, turning your bones into something a little more jelly-like than you cared to admit.

You were curled up on your couch in an oversized tee, mug of lukewarm coffee in your hands, and the second you saw Rhett Abbott flash across your screen, your heart tripped like it didn’t know how to act.

He didn’t waste time with small talk, either. Just a warm “Hey,” Followed by, “Was thinkin’ I’d like to take you out tonight. There’s this little diner just outside town…good food, real quiet. Thought maybe we could talk, get to know each other…see where it goes.”

You had agreed way too fast.

Embarrassingly fast.

There had barely been a breath between his invitation and your answer, and the little laugh he let out in response had made your stomach flip. It wasn’t mocking–it was amused. A little pleased. Like he hadn’t expected you to say yes so quickly, but he liked that you had.

You gave him your address–your one-level, white-brick house with the green mailbox out front and the wind chimes that never stopped making noise even when there was no wind–and he said he’d swing by around seven.

Which led you to having an emergency FaceTime with Jen, who was on her bedroom floor, looking at the outfit options you had in mind. She shook her head at the third pair of denim shorts you held up.

”No. Absolutely not. We’re not doing shorts tonight,Y/N.” You groaned, throwing yourself down on your bed.

“It’s a diner, not a five-star restaurant.”

“I know it’s a diner. That’s exactly why this is the moment. You show up all soft and pretty in one of those summer dresses you never wear anymore and he won’t be able to keep his eyes off you. Especially if it’s the white one with the ties.” You raised your brow.

”The white one?” Jen nodded.

”Yes. The one that laces up in the front…It’ll be a little tease for him…And it’s pretty.” That dress lived tucked in the back of your closet like a secret–one you hadn’t pulled out since last July. It was soft cotton, thick enough to hold its shape but thin enough to breathe. The color was a creamy, near-milk white, with the faintest floral print etched across it in dusty blue. Not too busy. Just enough to catch the light when you turned.

The bodice hugged close, fitted with subtle seams that shaped along your waist without needing a bra. And right at the center of your chest, two long strings tied into a little bow, gathering the fabric just enough to create the softest dip of cleavage–barely there, but suggestive in the right light. The tie could be loosened or tightened depending on your mood, but tonight…You were already tugging it a touch tighter.

The sleeves were short, slightly puffed, ending right above the bend of your arm, and the skirt fell just past mid-thigh–flowy and gentle, not clingy. When you walked, it moved like it had a mind of its own. Soft. Slow. Like summer wind.

And best of all? It had pockets. Deep ones.

You stared at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your hands over the skirt and adjusting the tie at the front.

“You look hot,” Jen said through the screen, tilting her head and lifting her eyebrows, “Absolutely jaw dropping.” You snorted, turning slightly to see the dress from the side.

”It’s not too much?” You questioned.

”It’s exactly enough,” She said, “Now fix that hair of yours, put some lip gloss on, and some of that fancy perfume you have…Because you’re going to have to look good for the mugshot after you kill this man tonight.” You shook your head, smiling down at your phone.

”You’re absolutely ridiculous.” She smirked.

”I want all the details tomorrow about how it went.” You nodded.

”I’ll be a waterfall of details.” Then the call ended.

About an hour later–right on time–Rhett’s truck rumbled to a stop in front of your house.

He cut the engine and stepped out, boots crunching gently over the gravel as he made his way up the walkway. The porch steps creaked beneath his weight–worn but solid–and as he approached the door, he took it in properly for the first time.

The house was one level, white brick with faded sage-green shutters that matched the mailbox out front. The roof sloped low and wide, and the porch spanned the front like a lazy hug, with a couple of mismatched chairs tucked beside the screen door. A potted plant hung off one of the wooden beams, and a wind chime–old, maybe copper–clinked faintly in the breeze. The whole place had character. Lived-in. Like a home someone loved, not just a place they stayed.

He liked it.

He raised a hand and knocked–three quick taps against the frame.

And when you opened the door…

It hit him.

Your perfume first. Soft and overwhelming in the best way. Like wildflowers and spun sugar, like some sunlit meadow had been poured into a bottle and sweetened with something sticky and decadent. It flooded his senses in an instant, made his stomach tighten and his throat go a little dry.

And then his eyes hit your dress.

And your boots.

God.

Those light brown cowgirl boots–scuffed just enough to look broken in, just enough to hint that you knew how to wear them–peeked out from beneath the flow of that pretty white dress. The fabric fluttered gently around your legs, and the delicate little bow that you had tied at the center of your chest made it impossible for him to look away for a good second too long.

You stood in the doorframe, golden in the early evening light, your hair done up soft and neat, a little shine on your lips and that scent clinging to your skin like a secret.

Rhett stared.

Then let out a soft breath like it punched right out of him.

“God, you look pretty,” He said, voice barely above a murmur.

You felt the heat bloom up your neck before you could help it, rushing straight to your cheeks.

Your eyes dipped to take him in as well–the forest green button-up he wore brought out the richness in his blue eyes, the sleeves rolled to the forearms again, his usual denim sitting low and loose on his hips, faded from wear. He wasn’t wearing a hat tonight.

Instead, you could finally see all of his hair–thick, tousled light brown with strands that caught the sunlight as it filtered through the trees overhead. It curled slightly at the ends, like he hadn’t fussed over it much. It made him look softer somehow. Younger. Warmer.

“You look good too,” You complimented, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the smile from spreading too wide.

He gave you a lopsided grin at that–boyish, slightly crooked, like he didn’t quite know what to do with the compliment but appreciated it all the same.

“C’mon,” He said gently, tipping his chin toward his truck. “Let’s get you fed.”

You followed him down the porch steps, the hem of your dress dancing over your thighs with every step, your boots thudding softly on the wood. When you reached his truck, Rhett didn’t hesitate–he stepped ahead and opened the door for you.

The inside was a little worn–the fabric on the bench seat stretched in places, a couple old stains on the floor mats–but it smelled clean, like pine and something faintly citrusy. The kind of scent that lingered from someone who actually tried to keep their truck respectable.

You climbed up and slid across the wide front seat–a bench, not two individual chairs. Nothing between the both of you but a cup holder and a whole lot of unspoken tension.

It was comfortable. Cushioned like an old couch. The kind of seat that begged for closeness.

You didn’t mind that. Not even a little.

Rhett closed the door behind you, circled to the driver’s side, and climbed in with one smooth motion. He glanced over once–just enough to check your seatbelt–before settling in and turning the ignition.

The truck rumbled to life.

“Alright,” he said, easing them down the drive. “Let’s get goin’, hmm?”

And just like that, with the windows cracked and the sky starting to gold, the night began.

—————————

The diner was a relic of another era—an ‘80s dream that hadn’t changed its tune in decades. The neon sign out front buzzed faintly in the twilight, casting a warm pink glow over the gravel lot, its cursive lettering spelling out Marlene’s Midnight Diner. Fluorescent lights bled through the wide glass windows, softening just slightly through layers of streaky Windex and time. A couple of vintage chrome motorcycles were parked near the entrance, and inside, the booths were upholstered in turquoise vinyl that squeaked every time someone shifted too much.

The walls were covered in framed black-and-white photos of rockstars, movie posters with curling corners, and a whole shelf of bobbleheads that lined the back wall like a chorus of silent, nodding critics. The floors were checkered black-and-white tile, clean but scuffed with age—evidence of late-night rushes and post-prom milkshakes long past. A jukebox flickered in the corner, playing faint snippets of something classic and upbeat, while the smell of fried onions, grilled meat, and hot coffee lingered heavy in the air.

It was cleaner than you expected for a 24-hour place. Not pristine, but tidy. The kind of clean that came from someone actually giving a damn, even if the linoleum was chipped in the corners and the sugar dispensers didn’t always unscrew right. A waitress in a powder-blue uniform with her name–Connie–stitched over her left breast had already come by, balancing a notepad in one hand and a pot of coffee in the other. She didn’t bat an eye at Rhett’s flannel or your dress, just took your order with a tired smile and a wink that said she’d seen every type of first date sit in this booth at least once.

You were settled into a corner booth, your dress skirt fanned just slightly along the seat beside you, and Rhett across from you, looking about ten shades more nervous than he had at your door. The overhead light buzzed gently, casting a faint golden sheen on the chrome napkin holder between you. Both of you had tall glasses of Coke sitting in front of you, tiny bubbles rising up through the caramel-colored fizz, the glasses sweating slowly in the humid summer air.

Rhett hadn’t touched his drink yet. His fingers rested near it, but he kept glancing up at you and then back down at the condensation ring on the tabletop like it held the answers to something he hadn’t asked yet. And maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was the way your dress dipped just enough at the neckline, but he cleared his throat softly before speaking.

“So…what do you do?” he asked, voice lower than usual, a little rough. Like he was forcing the words out before he chickened out altogether.

You took a sip from your Coke, the straw catching the ice as you pulled it toward your mouth. The chill hit your tongue, sweet and sharp, and you let it sit there for a moment before answering.

“I actually just recently became a home health aide.”

Rhett’s brows lifted, genuinely surprised. “Oh really? That sounds like it’s pretty interesting. You work every day?”

You shook your head, swirling your straw slowly through the glass. “It’s about four days a week, but I can pick up shifts or give them away if I’d like. It’s pretty flexible.”

He nodded slowly, then bit the inside of his cheek–a habit you were already beginning to recognize. “Do you enjoy it?”

You smiled, and the warmth behind it was real. “Definitely. I have a lot of experience in home health, so it was an easy transition.”

His head tilted just slightly. Not in judgment–just curious. “Where’d you get the experience from if you just became one?”

Your fingers tightened on the straw. You took another drink to stall, letting the bubbles fizzle against your tongue before swallowing.

“Well…Umm… My dad got sick when I was still in high school, so I had to take care of him. I gave him all his medications and helped with, you know…Everything. He usually needed help keeping track of everything.”

Rhett caught it right away–the way you were speaking in past tense. His eyes softened a bit, and you could see it, like he made the connection.

He hesitated, then asked gently, “When…When did he pass? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You rubbed at the inside of your palm beneath the table, a nervous little habit that had never really gone away. “About a year ago.”

His lips parted, but he gave you a moment. Then, quietly: “I’m sorry for your loss.”

You shook your head slowly, meeting his eyes across the table. “Thank you, Rhett.”

There was a pause–not heavy, not awkward, but full. Like the air had thickened just slightly with understanding. He nodded once, then looked down at his Coke and back up at you again.

“Enough about me,” You said softly, offering him a small smile. “What do you do?”

He let out a small exhale through his nose, the corner of his mouth twitching like you’d caught him off guard. “I work on my dad’s ranch,” He said, then after a beat, added with a sheepish little grin, “And I ride bulls.”

You blinked. “A bull rider?” Your lips parted slightly, and you leaned forward a little. “You certainly have the look…”

Rhett flushed, just a bit, but it was clear the compliment hit him square in the chest. He scratched the side of his jaw, eyes flicking down to the table.

“Is it the nice ass that gave it away?” He asked, teasing. “Or the muscular thighs?”

You laughed and the sound made his whole body relax visibly.

“Oh, it was definitely both,” You replied, biting your straw between your teeth for just a second. “But it’s the confidence that really gave you away.”

He raised his brows. “Confidence?”

You nodded. “You walked up to a table of four girls like it was nothing.”

His eyes sparkled, leaning in a little closer. “Truth is, I was only focusing on one…So that made it pretty easy.”

The warmth that bloomed across your chest that nearly knocked the wind out of you.

Your plates arrived just after that last teasing exchange, still steaming as Connie slid them across the table with the kind of efficiency only found in places like this–diners where the waitresses knew how to keep coffee hot and couples talking. The food was simple but good–crispy fries, thick burgers, golden grilled cheese with perfectly melted slices of cheddar–and both of you picked at it between laughs and lingering looks.

The conversation never stumbled. It rolled easy. Quiet confessions about favorite bands, childhood memories, the weird shit you believed as a kid. Rhett talked about riding his first bull at sixteen, about getting bucked so hard he chipped a bit of his tooth and never got it fixed. You told him about sneaking out during summer storms to sit under the porch roof and count how long the thunder took to follow lightning.

And somehow, it all blurred.

By the time you glanced at your phone, your breath caught in your throat.

“Shit,” You whispered, eyes widening as you leaned back from the booth, “It’s one in the morning.”

Rhett blinked, then laughed low and warm in his chest. “Should I be gettin’ you home?”

You nodded, sheepish. “I got work in the morning, so…I think that would be the best idea. I didn’t even realize how much time went by.”

He smiled at that–soft and a little proud, eyes glittering in the golden diner light. “Well… you’re very easy to talk to. And I guess I’m a pretty good distraction if you didn’t even realize how many hours passed.”

You laughed, cheeks warming again, “You really are…”

When the bill came, you reached for your purse–but Rhett was faster.

“Don’t even try,” He said, slipping a couple of bills onto the check tray before you could blink.

“Rhett–come on,” You protested, reaching across the table.

He shook his head, that crooked grin spreading again. “Next one’s on you, if it makes you feel better.”

It did. A little.

By the time you stepped out into the night air, the temperature had dropped. The warmth from inside clung to your skin as the breeze wrapped around your legs and lifted the hem of your dress just slightly. Goosebumps prickled along your arms. Rhett noticed. He tilted his head toward the truck without a word, guiding you across the lot like he was keeping you within orbit.

The ride back was quieter, but not uncomfortable. The windows were rolled halfway down, letting in a cool wind that tangled through your hair. The smell of summer dirt and far-off fields filled the cab. A country station hummed low through the speakers, barely audible over the soft growl of the engine. Rhett kept glancing over at you–quick, quiet looks that made your stomach turn each time.

When he pulled up in front of your house, he killed the engine but didn’t move right away. Both of you unbuckled at the same time, slow, almost hesitant–like the weight of the night didn’t want to lift just yet.

“We should do this again…” Rhett said softly, eyes flicking toward yours in the shadows. “I had a lot of fun.”

You nodded, the words catching in your throat before they came out. “Me too…”

The headlights cast soft light over your porch, reflecting faintly off the windshield, leaving his eyes half-lit in gold and shadow. It made the space inside the cab feel smaller. Closer. Intimate.

And when his gaze dropped–just briefly–to your lips, your breath hitched.

You looked at his mouth too.

Neither of you leaned in right away. It happened slowly–like gravity was inching you closer, breath by breath, heartbeat by heartbeat.

When your lips met, it was soft at first. A question. His mouth brushed against yours with careful, aching restraint–as if he couldn’t quite believe he was allowed to have you this close. But once he felt you melt into him, he tilted his head just enough to deepen the kiss.

And fuck.

It was hot. It was deep. It was everything you hadn’t even known you’d been craving. His mouth moved against yours like he wanted to memorize the shape of your lips. His hand came up, rough palm cupping the side of your face, thumb brushing the apple of your cheek with a touch so gentle it made you shiver.

You kissed him back harder–desperate, drawn. Your fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer as he let out a soft, guttural sound in the back of his throat, low and breathless.

Then you felt it–his fingers, tentative and curious, ghosting over the ribbon at the center of your dress. He toyed with the edge of the bow, brushing it with the backs of his knuckles like he was wondering if he could tug on it and feel you come undone.

You gasped into his mouth, and that’s when you pulled back.

Your breath was shallow, lips swollen, lashes fluttering as you stared at him in the dim cab.

“We’re gonna have to put the brakes on…For now,” You whispered, voice trembling from the heat that still pulsed under your skin.

Rhett looked wrecked in the best way. Hair mussed from your hands, lips pink and wet from your kiss. His chest rose and fell in short bursts. He nodded slowly, gulping like he was trying to rein himself back in.

“O-Okay,” He murmured. “Yeah… okay.”

You leaned in again, pressing one last, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Text me when you get home.”

He nodded, voice rasped raw. “I will.”

You slid out of the truck on shaky legs, dress clinging to the heat of your thighs, heart still pounding.

That night, alone in bed, it wasn’t even a question.

Your hand slipped under the sheets as you exhaled through your nose, your eyes fluttering shut. All you could think about was the rough scrape of his stubble against your cheek…The weight of his palm cupping your jaw…The way his mouth devoured you like it had been starving for years.

And God–his hands.

You imagined them on your waist, your hips, the backs of your thighs. Rough, wide palms gripping you like he meant it. Like he wouldn’t let go even if you begged him to.

You bit your lip to stifle a sound, thighs clenching as your fingers slipped deeper. Every flick of your wrist was guided by memory–by the sweet pressure of his kiss, the faint smell of pine and leather on his skin, the warmth of his breath when he whispered your name.

You came hard, quiet but breathless, curling into yourself as your body trembled beneath the weight of everything he’d left you feeling.

And as your heart slowed back to something manageable, one final thought danced through your mind–

If his kiss felt like that…

You weren’t ready for what the rest of him could do.

————————

“I need advice.” You announced during brunch a few weeks later. Jen, Leah, and Sam all looked up from their plates like hounds catching scent–forks suspended mid-air, brunch suddenly forgotten.

Jen blinked once. “Proceed.”

You took a breath, speared a piece of melon on your fork, then set it down again. “I think I’m going to sleep with Rhett tonight.”

Silence.

Then Leah, deadpan and unimpressed, muttered, “Fucking finally.”

The table burst into laughter–Jen clapping her hands once with glee, Sam nearly choking on her mimosa as she smacked the table.

“Well?” Sam grinned, wiping her mouth. “What do you need advice on, miss ‘finally going to ride a cowboy’?”

You groaned, letting your forehead fall lightly into your hand. “Y’know… how do I make this experience not so–shit?”

The laughter came again, softer this time. Not mocking–just warm.

Jen sipped from her iced coffee, eyebrows raised like she was trying to figure out exactly how much to say. “Girl…A lot of prep. That’s key. Especially if he’s the patient type. And Rhett seems like the patient type.”

“He is,” you said quickly, cheeks warming. “Very patient. Like…Painfully patient. I can tell he wants to take things further, but he’s never pushed. Not even once.”

“That’s because he respects the hell outta you,” Leah said, pointing at you with her fork. “And he’s probably scared of messing it up. Especially if he knows it’s your first time.”

You nodded, absently swirling your fork through your eggs. “I told him over dinner on our fourth date. He didn’t flinch. Just said, ‘We were all virgins once. I really don’t mind.’”

“Awh,” Jen cooed, mock wiping a tear. “The cowboy has morals and charm. We love that.”

Sam leaned in with a smirk. “And hands. Let’s not forget the hands.”

You pressed your lips together and looked away with a barely concealed smile. “Trust me. I’ve not forgotten.”

Jen pointed her fork dramatically. “Okay. So. Prep.”

Sam nodded, serious now. “Have some lube on hand. You’re probably gonna be nervous, and…If Rhett’s packing, better to be safe than sorry.”

You choked slightly on your juice, eyes wide. “Oh my God.”

“Sorry,” Sam said with a little shrug. “But he is a bull rider. Have you seen his thighs?” Leah cut in, ever the practical one.

“You’re on birth control, right?”

You nodded. “Of course. Been on it since grade nine.”

“Good. But have condoms anyway,” Jen said, gesturing firmly. “Because you never know.” You let out a long breath and poked at your toast.

“I should be taking notes.” Leah smiled softly.

“It’ll come naturally once you’re in the moment. Mostly. You just have to make sure to communicate. Tell him what you like, what hurts, what doesn’t feel good.”

“Yeah,” Sam added, “You don’t have to be a sex goddess. Just be present. Feel what you’re feeling. And trust him.”

“I do trust him,” you murmured, almost to yourself.

Jen reached across the table and gave your wrist a light squeeze. “That’s why it’s gonna be good.”

There was a pause. And then–

Jen lifted her brow. “Have you at least, y’know, explored yourself a bit? So you know what feels good?”

Your eyes shot up. “I’m not Mother Teresa, Jen, I’ve maturbated before…Just haven’t had someone else do it for me, that’s all.” Jen smirked.

”Right…Because now you’ve grown feral for the cowboy.”

“Shut up,” You muttered, grinning despite yourself. Your mind was already drifting. Rhett’s mouth. His hands. The way he looked at you like he was memorizing every detail for later.

“Is there anything else I should know?” You asked, half joking, half serious. “Tips? Warnings? Ritual sacrifices?”

Sam hummed thoughtfully. “You may bleed a little. Totally normal. But if you relax and take it slow, it won’t be bad.”

Jen nodded. “Just breathe. Keep talking. Let yourself enjoy it. It’s supposed to feel good.”

Leah leaned in one last time. “And if it doesn’t go perfectly? That’s okay. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t worth it. Especially with someone who clearly gives a damn.”

You looked down at your plate, heart a little fuller than it had been minutes ago.

“All right,” You said, lifting your coffee. “I think I can do that.” Jen leaned back in her chair, spearing a strawberry off her fruit bowl and pointing it at you like it was a mic.

“One last thing,” She said, tone mock-serious, “Don’t be surprised if you cry afterward.”

You blinked. “Cry?”

All three girls nodded in unison, as if they’d just been waiting for this part.

“Yeah,” Leah said, popping a piece of bacon into her mouth. “It’s super common. Doesn’t mean anything bad. It’s just…A lot.”

“A lot,” Sam echoed, sipping her iced coffee like she was preparing for a TED Talk. “All the nerves and build-up and hormones and oxytocin? Sometimes it just leaks out of your eyeballs. No warning. It happened to me with Dave. I went to the bathroom to pee and started crying like I just watched the end of Titanic.”

You stared at her. “You cried on the toilet?”

“Yup. Naked. Legs shaking. Dave panicked and brought me a fruit snack.”

Jen snorted into her mimosa. “Honestly? That man earned a gold star for that one.”

You couldn’t help laughing, the tension breaking a little. “Jesus.”

“It’s not bad,” Leah added, a little gentler now, “Just intense. First times can be overwhelming even if everything goes right. Doesn’t mean you did anything wrong. Doesn’t mean he did anything wrong.”

You nodded, tucking that somewhere in your brain. “Okay. I appreciate the heads-up.”

Jen leaned in again, all faux-seriousness. “But if he does do anything wrong, text us ‘cowboy down’ and we’ll come beat him up for you.” You rolled your eyes, laughing. “He’s not going to do anything wrong.”

“We know,” Sam said, softer now. “That man looks at you like he’d lay down and die if you asked him to…It’s just in case though.” Your smile wavered just a little at that. Not because it was wrong–but because it was true. And hearing it out loud made it all that much more real.

You took a deep breath, steadying yourself.

“Okay,” you said finally. “So lube, condoms, communication, expect the tears, maybe keep a fruit snack nearby…Any last words?”

“Don’t focus so hard on doing it right that you forget to feel it. You’ve waited this long–make sure you get something out of it too.”

You paused. Then nodded. “Yeah… Yeah, you’re right.”

And then Sam leaned over with a knowing little grin and murmured, “And hey… If his hands are anything like they looked when he brought you that drink, girl, you’re about to ascend.”

You buried your face in your hands as the table exploded into laughter again.

Because honestly?

You were counting on it.

—————————

When Rhett drove you home from the drive-in that night, he figured things would end the way they usually did–lips on lips, your thighs straddling his lap in the driver’s seat, the console digging into your side while your hands fumbled in each other’s hair. Maybe a little grinding, maybe a few low gasps muffled against his neck, your dress bunched around your hips while his hands found their familiar place on your waist.

But this time, when he eased the truck into park outside your house and leaned over to press a gentle kiss to your mouth, you surprised him.

You pulled back almost instantly–not to stop him, not to tease. Your hands came up instead, cradling his face between your palms, your thumbs brushing the soft skin just beneath his eyes.

His lips parted slightly, breath caught between questions he hadn’t dared to ask yet.

“Wanna come inside?” You murmured.

The shift was subtle, but immediate. His expression changed like the temperature had dropped twenty degrees. Eyebrows lifted just barely. His eyes flicked over your face, searching for a trace of a joke–anything–but all he found was sincerity. Soft, nervous, brave sincerity.

“You sure?” He asked, voice low, raspy, like it caught in the back of his throat. “Don’t you have work tomorrow?”

You shook your head once, deliberate. “I booked tomorrow off.”

That made him blink.

“You did?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, and the smile you gave him wasn’t teasing. It was warm. Quiet. Like you were holding a secret just for him. You leaned in, slow and steady, your breath brushing his ear as you whispered “Thought it would be best if I was going to sleep with you tonight…I want to spend the morning wrapped up in you.” His hands, resting on your thighs, tensed ever so slightly. He swallowed hard, the sound thick in his throat.

“You sure?” He asked again, softer this time. Almost reverent.

And you leaned back just enough to meet his eyes fully–no hesitation, no fear, just that same quiet bravery–and said, “I’ve never been more sure.”

Rhett unbuckled his seat belt with a click, his movements smooth but tense with anticipation. He cut the engine and stepped out, rounding the front of the truck in a few long strides, boots crunching softly against the gravel. By the time he opened your door, you were already sliding forward in your seat, heart fluttering against your ribs.

His hand found yours, warm and rough, curling around your fingers as he helped you down. You barely had time to settle your footing before he leaned in–just close enough for his breath to fan against your cheek–and whispered, “Lead the way, sweetheart.” You did.

Your fingers fumbled slightly as you dug through your purse for the keys, walking up the short wooden steps to your front door. The porch light cast a soft glow over the faded green paint, your wind chime clinking lazily in the warm summer air.

You found your keys just as Rhett stepped in behind you, his hands gently finding your hips, his thumbs pressing softly into the dip of your waist. He bent close, his lips brushing your bare shoulder in a slow, reverent kiss that made your breath catch.

Then you felt it–his fingers slipping through the back loops of your jean shorts. Not tugging. Just holding. Anchoring. Like he needed to touch you to make sure this was real.

You unlocked the door with a quiet snick and pushed it open, stepping inside.

“C’mon,” You murmured, pulling him in by the front of his white t-shirt he wore beneath his black long sleeve button up.

He followed without question.

The keys clattered onto the little table by the door–a narrow vintage piece with peeling white paint and a small dish full of quarters and hair ties. The entrance opened directly into your living space, and it looked exactly like you: warm, cluttered in a way that felt lived-in rather than messy, cozy without trying too hard.

A worn brown couch sat against the far wall, the cushions a little too soft from years of sinking into them after work. A crocheted throw blanket was slung lazily over the back, and the coffee table was full of mismatched coasters, a candle burned low, and a couple half-read books stacked unevenly beside a mug that still held the ghost of morning coffee. The TV was modest, angled toward the couch, and the rug beneath your feet was frayed at the edges, patterned with sun-faded florals.

Beyond the living room was the open-concept kitchen–small but bright, the kind of space that made use of every inch. White cabinets, a fridge covered in magnets and little post-it notes, a tea towel hanging off the oven door, and a row of spice jars on a repurposed shelf above the stove. A round wooden dining table sat between the rooms, one chair slightly pulled out like it had been left mid-thought.

Rhett looked around, eyes wide but soft, like he was stepping into a space he’d only seen in dreams.

“Really nice place,” He murmured, voice low and sincere.

You glanced over your shoulder and smirked, reaching down to toe off your boots. “Thank you.”

He kicked his off beside yours, then moved toward you with slow intent. His hands found your waist again, fingers curling over your sides as he pulled you in–chest to chest, breath to breath.

And then he kissed you.

It started deep. Immediate. No hesitation this time. His lips slanted over yours with heat and hunger, his mouth moving like he needed you to feel exactly how long he’d been craving this. Your hands threaded through his hair, tugging gently at the roots as your body molded to his, heart racing with every brush of tongue, every subtle press of teeth.

You moaned into his mouth when he bit softly at your bottom lip, and that was all it took for him to lift you.

His hands slid down, gripping beneath your thighs, and in one smooth motion, he hoisted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, locking you in tight. He groaned softly against your lips as your bodies met, the pressure sending sparks through your core.

You barely broke the kiss to breathe, your nose brushing his as your mouth hovered against his.

“Tell me where…” He rasped, voice ragged, breath hot against your cheek. “Where the bedroom is.”

You nodded toward the hallway behind him, your voice coming out in a rush: “Down the hall…Just go straight.”

“Okay,” He murmured like a promise, shifting his grip as he started walking.

You didn’t make it easy for him.

Your lips trailed down his neck the second he turned, slow and teasing, pressing soft open-mouthed kisses to the curve of his throat. Your tongue flicked against the salt of his skin, and you felt it–his pace faltering for just a second, his breath catching, the thump of his heart beneath your lips pounding like it was trying to escape his chest.

He swore under his breath–something quiet and desperate–and kept going, the hallway dim around you, lit only by the soft glow of the porch light filtering in through the windows.

The door creaked open as Rhett stepped carefully into your bedroom. The moment the threshold was crossed, the world seemed to quiet even further, as if the very walls of your room were holding their breath, waiting for what came next.

His hands adjusted slightly under your thighs–warm, calloused, steady–and he dipped his head just a little, eyes darting past your shoulder to take in the space. Then, slowly, gently, he crouched, easing you down onto the bed with a care that made your chest ache.

The mattress dipped beneath your weight as you bottom met the comforter. The fabric was soft beneath you–well-worn cotton with faded floral print, not pristine or frilly, but cozy, the kind of bedding someone actually sleeps in, not just made for show. Pillows were stacked unevenly at the headboard, one still faintly creased from the way you’d curled around it the night before. Rhett stood for a second, straightening up as he looked around.

The bedroom was intimate without being staged–walls painted a soft eggshell, glowing warm in the dim light, one corner occupied by a small bookshelf full of worn spines and bent jackets. A framed print of a wildflower field hung crooked over the dresser. Your laundry hamper sat half-full beside it, one of his flannels folded neatly atop it from when you’d borrowed it last week and meant to return it. There was a window just above the headboard, cracked open to let the night breeze in–soft cricket sounds threading faintly through the screen.

To his left, the door to your ensuite bathroom was open, just enough for the warm tile light to spill out in a soft line across the wood floor. Inside, he could make out pale green towels hanging on the bar, a few bottles tucked along the edge of the tub. Your toothbrush sat in a small ceramic holder on the sink, beside a candle and a little jar of cotton rounds. Lived-in. Lovely. Yours.

And something about that hit him hard. The quiet intimacy of your space. The invitation of it. He was stepping into your world–and you were letting him in without armor, without distance, without fear.

Rhett exhaled slowly, his eyes dark with reverence. Then he turned to the small nightstand beside your bed, flicked the switch on the amber lamp, and let warm, golden light spill across the room.

It was the kind of light that softened edges. That wrapped everything in a dusky glow, like honey catching in the air. It made your skin gleam and your eyes catch fire.

Then–wordlessly–he shrugged off the black button-up, the fabric whispering as it slid down his arms. He let it fall to the floor beside him without ceremony.

Underneath, the white t-shirt clung to his chest and shoulders in ways that made your breath stutter. It wasn’t tight, but it didn’t need to be. The cotton hugged his biceps with ease, pulled slightly at the seams where his body curved broad and solid beneath it. The line of his torso cut clean down the middle, a faint shadow hinting at the muscle that lay beneath.

Your thighs clenched without meaning to. Reflexive. Hungry. Heat curled low in your stomach.

Rhett saw it. He could feel it. And his jaw tightened as he crossed the short distance back to the bed.

You opened your legs slowly, deliberately, inviting him in with nothing more than that movement–and he stepped between them, eyes never leaving yours.

Then his hands came up.

Rough palms cradled your face with startling gentleness, his thumbs brushing just beneath your cheekbones as he tilted your head up toward him. You looked at him and forgot how to breathe.

Because in this light…

His eyes were beautiful.

That striking blue had deepened to something richer now–like the sky right before night swallows the last of the day. They shimmered with something electric, something endless, framed by lashes that caught the glow like they were made for it. There were freckles scattered faintly across his cheeks now that you were close enough to see them, tiny sun-kissed pinpricks that spoke of days spent outdoors, of skin kissed by more than just light.

And the way he looked at you…

It was like he was starving and home all at once.

His gaze flicked down to your lips, then back up, and he wet his bottom lip slowly–deliberate, sensual, the tip of his tongue dragging over pink skin as if preparing for something sacred.

Then he kissed you.

This time, there was no hesitation. No breath of doubt.

It was heat and hunger, teeth and tongue, lips parting like they’d never tasted anything sweeter. His kiss devoured, coaxed, claimed. His body pressed forward as he kissed you deeper, urging you gently down onto your back until your spine met the mattress.

You didn’t even realize you were moving until your legs curled up, wrapping tight around his waist. The feel of him between your thighs, the weight of him pressing you down–it sent your mind reeling.

His hands braced beside your head. His hips settled low, just enough pressure to make you moan into his mouth, your fingers gripping at his shirt, nails dragging down the fabric like you needed more.

The mattress shifted with every movement. The room filled with the sound of breath and fabric and heartbeats and heat. Your hands slid beneath the hem of his white t-shirt as you kissed him harder, gripping the soft cotton and pulling him impossibly closer. The air between you was thick now, heady with heat and something darker—something slow and primal.

He moaned softly into your mouth, the sound like gravel dragged through honey, and your body answered with a full-body shiver.

Rhett’s hips rolled forward, slow and deliberate, and you felt him through the thick denim of his jeans–hard and heavy, grinding perfectly against the aching heat between your thighs. The friction made your breath catch, made your spine arch off the mattress. You clung to him, your thighs tightening around his waist as he rocked again.

Denim met denim in a blur of pressure and desperate friction–your shorts riding higher with every shift of his hips, the center seam of them pressed firmly against your core now, tugged taut by the weight of him. It was messy and maddening and god, it felt so good.

His body was big and solid above you, but never crushing. He was braced just enough–arms trembling slightly as he supported himself over you, careful not to let his full weight drop even as his pelvis ground into yours. Each motion was intentional. Controlled. He could’ve taken you apart if he wanted to.

But he didn’t.

He held back.

And that restraint–that quiet dominance, that held tension in his jaw, the way his hips ground instead of slammed–it made you dizzy.

His lips broke from yours only long enough to trail down your jaw, his breath scorching against your skin as he kissed a path to your neck. When he found the space just beneath your ear, he groaned low against it, grinding down again, and you gasped.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” He whispered, voice ragged. “You feel that?” You could only nod, head tilting back as he rolled his hips again, slower this time, making sure you felt the full press of his bulge against your center. Your fingernails dug into his shoulders, knees pulling tighter around his waist.

It wasn’t rushed. It was feral. Careful. Contained. Like he was holding a match to a fuse and daring it not to blow.

And just when you thought you’d combust from the friction alone–he stilled.

He pulled back, lips swollen, eyes dark and locked on yours as he brushed your hair back from your face.

“Can I take your shirt off?” He asked, voice low and reverent.

You didn’t hesitate. You nodded, breathless. “Yes. Please.”

His hands moved slowly, helping you sit up with a careful tug of your waist. His touch never left your skin. He peeled your shirt up and over your head in one slow motion, like he was unwrapping something sacred. He threw it off to the side and paused, his breath catching in his throat. Because beneath it–you were wearing a powdered blue bra. Soft lace, delicate straps. The kind of blue that looked barely-there in this light, washed in amber glow and moonlight.

Rhett’s eyes traced every inch like he’d never seen anything so beautiful. His hands came up, slow and open, calloused palms cupping your breasts through the fabric–gentle, almost awestruck, his thumbs brushing across the curved edges of the cups.

“Jesus Christ,” he murmured, eyes still locked on you. “You’re somethin’ else.”

You shivered as his fingers flexed ever so slightly, not squeezing, just holding. Like he needed to feel the weight of you in his hands, needed to remind himself this was real.

Then his mouth found yours again.

He kissed you like he was trying to memorize every breath–deep and open and hungry. And as he kissed you, he eased you further up the bed, one hand at your back, the other braced on the mattress beside your hip.

He followed you, slowly crawling forward on his knees until he was fully on the bed now–hovering above you, chest to chest again, his weight sinking into the mattress as it groaned beneath both your bodies.

The kiss never broke.

His thighs slid between yours again. The heat of him, the scent of pine and sweat and summer skin, the constant throb where your bodies met–it wrapped around you like fire.

And when his hips rolled forward again, this time braced against the bed, denim catching against denim, bare skin finally brushing cotton, you moaned into his mouth and pulled him closer, and Rhett swallowed the sound like it was the only thing that mattered. Rhett’s mouth broke from yours with a slow, shaky breath, his lips slick and parted, his gaze heavy-lidded as he pulled back just enough to take you in.

Then he dipped his head.

His lips found your throat first, brushing the skin there in a whisper-soft kiss, then trailing lower, open-mouthed and hot. His breath fanned out across your collarbone as he kissed it slowly, reverently, his voice tumbling out between the touches like he couldn’t stop himself.

“So damn pretty…” He murmured, nuzzling along the delicate slope of your neck. “So fuckin’ beautiful…”

His words were low and breathless, more praise than statement–like they were being dragged from his chest by the heat between your bodies. He kissed the hollow of your throat, then moved lower, his hair falling forward as he ducked down. The strands had begun to slip loose from the way he’d styled them, soft waves now tickling against your skin as he pressed his mouth to the top swell of your breast.

You gasped, spine arching faintly.

His lips dragged across the top curve of one breast, then the other, slow and teasing, the tip of his tongue just barely flicking against the edge of the lace as he groaned softly.

“Your skin is so fuckin’ soft,” He breathed, his hands sliding up your sides, thumbs brushing just beneath the band of your bra. “Can I take this off, sweetheart?”

You nodded, breath caught in your throat. “Yes.”

He didn’t rush. His hands were careful, respectful, as he found the clasp and eased it open, the soft snap of fabric releasing like a held breath. He let the straps fall away, the bra sliding off your arms, and he tossed it gently to the side.

Then he sat back on his knees for a moment.

Just looking.

The room was quiet but charged, amber light bathing everything in a molten glow. Rhett’s eyes were wide and reverent, drinking in the sight of your bare chest like it undid something deep inside him.

His hand came up, slow and open, and cupped one breast with tender pressure, thumb dragging softly over your nipple as it hardened beneath his touch. You gasped and arched slightly into him, your thighs flexing around his waist, your bottom lip caught between your teeth to stifle the moan threatening to break loose.

“Fuck,” He whispered, voice cracked. “You’re unreal…”

Then he leaned forward again, lips brushing the other breast as he murmured, “Can I kiss them?”

You nodded immediately, your voice trembling. “Please…”

That was all he needed.

He kissed the soft underside first, mouth hot and open, tongue flicking teasingly along the curve. Then he took your nipple between his lips and sucked.

Your whole body jolted.

The sensation ripped through you like lightning–sharp, electric, overwhelming. His mouth was hot, wet, focused as he laved over your nipple, then sucked harder, his tongue swirling as he groaned into your skin. His other hand massaged your other breast, palm wide and warm, kneading with slow, deliberate rhythm.

Your hips bucked into him, the friction of your shorts dragging against the denim of his jeans. His own hips rolled in response, grinding down against you in perfect, torturous time with his mouth.

The weight of him. The rhythm. The praise. The heat.

It was too much and not enough all at once.

“Rhett–” You gasped, one hand tangling in his hair as it brushed against your chest, thick and messy now, tickling with every breath. “God…”

He sucked harder, groaning at the sound of your voice, the vibration of it rumbling through your skin. He didn’t stop. He just kept grinding slow and heavy against your core, the hard line of his cock dragging exactly where you needed it, the pressure maddening.

“You like that?” he rasped, lips slick as he looked up, his hand still kneading at your breast. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You whimpered, nodding, your breath ragged. “Yes–yes, it feels so good–”

He kissed back across your chest to your other nipple and sucked there too, just as intensely, his hips never stopping their slow grind. You could feel how much he wanted you–how much he was holding back–and it only made the tension coil tighter between your thighs.

You were drowning in it–in the heat of his mouth, the drag of his hips, the praise whispered into your skin, the way his body crowded yours completely.

Rhett’s mouth lingered at your breast a moment longer, then released you with a soft, wet pop, placing a tender kiss over the nipple before moving lower. His lips trailed a slow, reverent path down the slope of your sternum, breath warm and ragged as he murmured soft things into your skin.

“So beautiful,” He whispered, brushing the tip of his nose along your stomach, kissing just beneath your ribcage. “So fuckin’ soft… Can’t believe I get to touch you like this…”

You felt his tongue dart out, licking slowly along the gentle dip above your navel. His groan was quiet but raw, like your taste knocked the wind from him. Then he did it again, slower this time, eyes fluttering shut as he tasted the salt and heat clinging to your skin.

He kissed you everywhere–your stomach, your waist, the faint stretchmarks at your hip. Sweet nothings fell from his lips like prayer: You’re unreal…Can’t get enough of you… never seen anything so perfect.

And then he reached the waistband of your shorts.

His mouth hovered just above the button, and he glanced up at you through his lashes–eyes glassy and dark, mouth flushed.

“Can I take these off?” He asked, voice husky, reverent.

You nodded instantly, already breathless. “Yes… please.”

His fingers moved with aching care, undoing the button, pulling the zipper down so slowly it might’ve been deliberate torture. Then he curled his hands around the waistband and shimmied the denim down your thighs, inch by inch. You lifted your hips to help him, legs parting slightly.

And when the shorts slipped off completely–when he saw what you were wearing underneath–Rhett stopped breathing altogether.

It was the matching set.

Powdered blue lace. Dainty straps. Barely-there coverage.

His jaw flexed, eyes flicking up to your face, then dropping again to the sheer fabric stretched over your soaked center.

“Jesus…” He muttered, like he didn’t mean to say it out loud. One large hand skimmed down your thigh, then up again, fingers grazing over the lace. You arched ever so slightly into his touch, hips twitching in quiet desperation.

He groaned low, eyes locked on where you moved for him.

“I wanna see how you touch yourself,” He rasped, dragging his knuckles over the front of your panties. “Before I do anything to you… I wanna watch you, sweetheart.”

Your breath caught. You looked up at him with wide, unsure eyes–doe-eyed and flushed, heart pounding.

“O-Okay…”

His hands were gentle as he helped ease the delicate underwear down your legs, bunching them in his fist before setting them aside carefully, like they were something precious. Then he sat back, slow and deliberate, bracing himself between your knees. His hands slid up the outsides of your thighs and gently pressed–urging your legs open to him.

The air between your bodies tightened. You could feel yourself flushing from head to toe.

Your fingers ghosted down your stomach, trembling slightly, and Rhett didn’t say a word–just watched. Eyes wide. Lips parted. Kneeling before you like he was witnessing something holy.

You avoided his gaze as your fingers slipped lower, already slick with the arousal he’d built inside you with nothing more than his mouth, his words, and that grind. You gathered your wetness, circling your clit slowly, trying not to overdo it.

Rhett leaned in. His lips brushed the inside of your knee, tender and grounding.

“You’re very gentle with yourself…” He murmured. “Are you sensitive?”

You nodded a little, breath stuttering.

He exhaled hard through his nose, voice breaking as he whispered, “You look so pretty when you touch yourself like that…”

His hand came up to rub slow circles along your thigh while you worked your fingers in slow, rhythmic spirals. Your breath hitched. You circled again, and then again, each motion sending little shocks through your stomach.

And then you said, “Whenever I touch myself… all I’ve been thinking about is your fingers instead of mine.”

Rhett’s mouth curved into a smirk against your skin. His lips brushed up your thigh, closer now.

“Is that so, sweetheart?”

You whimpered. “I want your mouth on me so badly, Rhett.”

He kissed the inside of your knee again–gentle, sweet, steady.

“Alright,” He murmured, voice barely more than gravel and breath. “But if you want me to stop, you can tell me at any point, okay?”

You nodded instantly. “I won’t want you to stop…”

His eyes darkened as he pressed a kiss higher up your thigh. Then another. Then another.

And as he moved closer to where you ached most, your body shuddered with anticipation. His breath ghosted over your center, hot and unsteady. You could feel it–each exhale brushing across the slick folds of your core, stirring goosebumps up your thighs. And then his voice came, low and ragged, like gravel dipped in honey.

“You’re glistening, Y/N…” He murmured, his breath catching. “It’s so fuckin’ beautiful… Can’t believe I’m the first one who gets to touch you like this…To taste you like this.”

The reverence in his voice made your chest ache. Your thighs tensed beneath his palms, and he soothed them with a slow stroke of his thumbs–circling gently, grounding you. Then he leaned in.

His stubble scraped softly against the tender skin of your inner thighs, just enough to make you flinch–not in pain, but in pure, sharpened sensitivity. He kissed your right thigh first, then your left, mouthing at the soft flesh with quiet devotion before shifting closer, lips parting.

The first lick was slow.

Long.

Deliberate.

The flat of his tongue dragged up your slit in one smooth, reverent motion, tasting every bit of your arousal like it was something sacred. He let out a low hum–a quiet, aching sound of pleasure–as his hands tightened ever so slightly on your thighs.

Then he pulled back just enough to kiss your clit–soft and wet and lingering.

“You taste amazing…” He whispered, lips brushing your folds. His voice was thick, almost dazed.

You bit your bottom lip hard, eyes fluttering as you looked down at him. He stared up at you with that same reverent hunger, mouth slick, cheeks flushed. And then he dipped his head again, tongue finding your clit in a slow, lazy stroke that made your hips twitch.

You shifted, gasping softly, instinctively wiggling against his mouth in search of more. Rhett responded immediately–pressing his face in deeper, his stubble rubbing raw and hot against your skin. You reached down without thinking, hand fumbling until yours found his.

He squeezed your hand gently.

And then, muffled against your core, you heard him ask, “You okay, baby?”

You nodded, breathless. “Yes…” It came out like a whisper. “Feels so good…”

He kissed your clit again, murmuring, “Put your hand in my hair.”

Your fingers obeyed instantly, slipping into the thick strands and curling softly. He hummed in response, the sound vibrating straight through your core, and then he returned to you–tongue stroking slow, intentional patterns over your most sensitive point.

Everything about him was gentle, but relentless. He never rushed. He worshipped.

And then his hand slid off your thigh. You felt the shift–the weight of his palm dragging down, disappearing for a second.

He pulled back, panting lightly, lips shiny and pink. His voice was hoarse. “I’m gonna finger you…Is that okay?”

Your answer was immediate. “Yes. Please…”

You watched through half-lidded eyes as he dragged his fingers through your slick, coating them thoroughly. He leaned back in and kissed your clit again–soft and sweet, like a punctuation mark–before gently pressing a single finger into your entrance.

The stretch was perfect. Not painful. But new. Full.

Your lips parted in a soundless gasp, your thighs quivering as your body tried to adjust to the pressure. His eyes were locked on your face.

“Does it feel good?” He murmured, voice frayed at the edges.

You nodded. “It’s better than…Better than when I do it.” You were barely breathing.

He kissed the inside of your thigh again, his eyes glinting with something soft and primal all at once.

“You’re flutterin’ around me, sweetheart…” He whispered. “God, you feel so good.”

He slid his finger in slowly, curling it just right–and then, when you were ready, he added a second.

You moaned out loud.

Loud and aching and raw.

Your hips lifted off the mattress at the stretch, and Rhett caught you–his other arm bracing across your stomach, pinning you down with just enough pressure to steady you.

His fingers moved in slow, careful thrusts, curling deep until they found it–that spot you could only sometimes graze on your own. But he didn’t stop there. As his fingers moved, his mouth returned to your clit, tongue swirling, flattening, lapping.

It was too much and still somehow not enough.

The heat started to bloom in your belly–sharp and fast and unbearable. His fingers were soaked. The squelch of them moving inside you echoed through the room now, tangled with his quiet groans and the soft gasps falling from your lips like prayers.

He sucked your clit deep into his mouth and moaned around it, the sound vibrating through your whole body. His fingers curled again.

Right there.

“Rhett–” You gasped, voice trembling. “Rhett, it feels like I’m gonna–”

His eyes snapped up to yours, wild and focused and god, he was smiling. “Just let it out, sweetheart,” He rasped, never stopping. “Let me drink you in.”

That did it.

The heat snapped like a whip.

Your hips bucked hard–legs trembling, your back arching off the mattress. A strangled moan burst from your throat as your orgasm tore through you like wildfire.

You came hard–rushing wetness spilling out over his fingers, soaking the comforter beneath you. You gasped, nearly sobbing with the intensity, your hands tangled in his hair and fisting hard as your whole body convulsed against his mouth.

Rhett held you there.

Firm but tender, one arm anchoring you while his mouth slowed, his tongue gentling against your clit as he rode out your high. You twitched beneath him, thighs shaking, as the overstimulation began to bleed in.

“Okay…Okay…” You whimpered, barely coherent.

He eased off slowly, kissing your thighs, your stomach, your hipbone–anywhere he could reach as your body trembled down from the high. He held you until your breath evened, until the quaking softened, until your hand loosened in his hair.

Only then did he raise his head, lips flushed and glistening, eyes blown wide with awe and reverence.

“You’re incredible,” He murmured, voice shaking. “Never seen anything so goddamn beautiful.”

And then, without a word, he leaned in and kissed you–deep, slow, still tasting of you, and all you could do was pull him close and kiss him back, letting the weight of that moment settle over both of you like a blanket made of heat and something sweeter.

His tongue slipped past your lips with slow confidence, and you welcomed him, your moan melting into his mouth as your hands tangled in his hair again. It was wet and hungry, the kind of kiss that made your toes curl, the kind that made everything else disappear.

The weight of his body, the grind of denim against your bare core, the deep, soft drag of his tongue against yours–every piece of him was searing into you, and you didn’t want him anywhere else.

You could feel how hard he was through his jeans now. Thick, unrelenting. It pressed up against you, heavy and hot, even through the fabric–and you reached down between your bodies without thinking. Your fingers found the button of his jeans, popped it open, and tugged at the zipper slowly.

That was when he pulled back, just enough to breathe. His lips were swollen, chin wet, pupils blown wide. “Let me go grab a condom,” He rasped, already shifting to move.

But you caught his wrist, held him there, and your voice came soft and breathless.

“I’m on the pill… I want to feel all of you, Rhett. Please… Please, I want to feel you.”

His breath hitched–like the air was knocked out of him. His gaze darted over your face, trying to make sure he heard you right. The way you said it. The way you looked at him, wide-eyed and aching and brave.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice cracked with restraint.

You nodded, slow and deliberate. “I’ve never been more sure.”

That was all it took.

Rhett sat back slightly, and with one hand, he peeled off his shirt in a smooth, practiced motion. The fabric caught the light as it was tossed aside, revealing sun-warmed skin stretched over lean, corded muscle. His chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, every inch of him tanned and freckled and golden. Your eyes trailed down his stomach–over the faint trail of hair leading beneath the waistband of his jeans–your breath catching in your throat.

He pushed himself off the bed and stood to undo the rest. You watched as he slid his jeans and boxers down in one slow motion, revealing himself fully.

Your stomach flipped.

He was big.

Beautiful, too–thick and flushed, heavy against his thigh, his length curving upward slightly. You swallowed hard as your eyes followed the slope of his hips to the strength of his thighs–thick with muscle, dusted with dark hair, tense as he stood before you, letting you take him in.

He watched your face as you looked at him–searching for fear or hesitation–but all he saw was awe.

“I-I have lube,” you said quietly, pointing to the nightstand. “Top drawer.”

Without hesitation, he turned, grabbed it, and crawled back onto the bed. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, and he settled between your thighs again, kissing you before you could even catch your breath.

This time, it was messier. Hotter. Slick with spit and need and the taste of you lingering between your mouths. His hands roamed–gripping your waist, cupping your jaw, brushing your hair back with aching tenderness.

The heat of his erection pressed against your core again, and the moment he rocked his hips forward, you gasped. He groaned into your mouth and pulled back just enough to look at you.

“You ready?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

He kissed your forehead, your cheeks, your mouth again. Then he leaned back just slightly and gently pushed your thighs open a little wider. The cool air hit your skin, but it didn’t last–his hand came next.

He popped the cap of the lube and coated himself first, his breath catching as his hand stroked his erection with slow, slick pressure. Then he reached between your thighs, and you gasped as his fingers spread the lube carefully over your entrance, gentle and reverent.

Then he moved closer again, one arm sliding beneath your neck, cradling you as he brought his forehead to yours.

“I’ll go slow,” He whispered, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks between each word.

“Okay,” you whispered back.

“Tell me if it hurts, okay?”

You nodded again, breath shallow.

Then he reached down, adjusted himself, and began to guide his tip to your entrance.

You could feel him there–warm, slick, thick–and your hands clenched around his biceps as he slowly began to press in. The stretch was immediate. Hot. Sharp. Full.

Your breath hitched. “Oh–”

He stopped instantly, holding himself steady, brushing your hair back again.

“You okay?” His voice was ragged, restrained. His whole body trembled with the effort of holding back.

You nodded, jaw tight. “Just…Give me a second…”

He kissed your temple and murmured, “Take all the time you need, sweetheart. I’m right here.”

He stayed still, every muscle in his body taut and waiting, his cock barely halfway inside you, while you adjusted. And he kept kissing you–your hairline, your cheekbone, the tip of your nose–whispering soft things.

When you finally exhaled fully, your hips relaxed, and you whispered, “Okay…You can keep going.”

He did–so slowly it almost hurt with how careful he was. Inch by inch, the stretch deepened, and your hands scrambled for something to hold–his shoulders, the sheets, anything.

But then he bottomed out, fully seated inside you, and everything in your body stilled.

You were full. So full. It was overwhelming and delicious and dizzying, and the feel of his cock pulsing inside you made your whole body tighten.

“Oh my god…” You whispered.

Rhett was breathing hard above you, lips parted, eyes clenched shut.

“You’re so tight, sweetheart… You feel…Fuck, you feel incredible…”

He didn’t move yet. He just stayed there, kissing your shoulder, letting your body adjust around him, trembling with restraint.

“You okay?” He asked again, voice nearly breaking.

You nodded slowly, lifting your hand to stroke his jaw, “You’re so big Rhett…Fuck you’re filling me so good.” Rhett sighed hard against your mouth, the sound frayed and heavy, like he’d been holding it in for years. You felt it in your chest. In your thighs. In the way his body trembled, barely restraining itself inside you.

Your walls fluttered around him, tightening and loosening in sync with your racing heartbeat. He groaned deep in his throat, his breath catching as your body clung to his, pulse and pressure locking him in place.

His free hand found yours, fingers interlacing, his palm warm and calloused where it cupped yours into the mattress. Then he leaned down, kissed your forehead. Your cheek. The corner of your mouth. Every kiss was soft, reverent–like a thank you in skin.

Then one small kiss to your lips, barely a brush, and you whispered:

“You can move…”

He nodded, eyes locked on yours. “Okay…”

And then he did.

The first roll of his hips was slow. Careful. Shallow. But even that made you gasp.

He paused, breathing against your mouth.

“Okay?” he asked again.

“Yeah,” you whispered, voice shaking. “It’s just…A lot. A really, really good lot…”

Rhett gave a breathless laugh, then kissed you again—and this time, when he rocked into you, he went just a little deeper. Then again. And again. Short strokes at first, easing you open, your body adjusting with each slow drag of him moving in and out.

Every inch was pure heat. Every motion coaxed more of you open, more pleasure, more need. Your hips started to lift with his rhythm, chasing the feeling, meeting him halfway in a messy, desperate grind.

He groaned–low and sharp, his head tipping forward so his forehead pressed to yours, sweat starting to bead at his temples.

“Holy fuck, Y/N…” He breathed, voice cracked with pleasure. “I’m already fuckin’ addicted to you. Jesus Christ.”

And then he pushed in harder–just slightly, just enough to steal your breath–and kissed you with all the weight of that confession.

You moaned into his mouth, legs tightening around his waist. Your hands slid up his back, clinging, fingernails scraping lightly as you arched beneath him.

One hand found his hair and tugged–gentle, desperate–and he let out a soft, broken sound against your lips.

Then your voice broke out, wild and shaking: “Rhett, oh my fucking god…Please. Please fuck me.”

He pulled back, just enough to look at you. His hair was damp and messy, his cheeks flushed, his eyes dark with a heat that burned straight through you.

“You want me to go a little faster?” He asked, voice barely holding on.

You nodded instantly. “Yes…Please…”

He kissed you again–deep and hungry–and then he did.

His hips began to move faster, deeper. The slick drag of his cock inside you was dizzying, perfect, each thrust brushing places that made your breath come in strangled gasps. The mattress creaked beneath your bodies, your moans filling the space between the slap of skin and the thick, humid sound of him fucking into you.

He buried his face in your neck, panting against your skin, and you clung to him, crying out as your thighs trembled around his waist.

The tension coiled in your belly again. The kind that burned slow, that built behind your ribs until it was a scream in waiting.

Sweat slid down his spine. Yours, too. The room smelled like sex and heat and skin. You could feel his muscles flexing as he fucked you, his body straining with effort, with restraint.

“Fuck…” He gasped, hips stuttering slightly. “I’m gonna cum…”

And without thinking, you whined:

“I want you to cum in me, Rhett… I want to feel you drip out of me… I want to remember you until the next time you fuck me…”

He let out a broken groan against your lips, his whole body jolting. “Jesus fuckin’–”

Then his mouth crashed into yours as his hips bucked.

His cock throbbed inside you, twitching hard as he spilled into you with a choked, whimpering moan. Hot ropes of cum pulsed into you, thick and deep, coating your walls as his whole body tensed, then sagged forward, trembling with release.

You could feel it. Every drop. The warmth, the weight of him filling you.

He kept kissing you, slow and breathless, as his body rocked through the last of it. Then he collapsed gently onto you–careful not to crush you, but unable to do anything but melt into your skin.

His breath came in hot, heavy bursts against your collarbone. Your fingers threaded through his messy hair, stroking softly, both of you pulsing together in the aftermath.

You tilted your head and kissed his shoulder. Then again. Then you opened your mouth and sucked gently, letting your teeth graze the skin just enough to sting.

He laughed. A breathless, wrecked sound that vibrated against your chest.

“You just gave me the best orgasm of my life and now you’re marking me up?” he murmured, smiling into your neck.

You kissed the spot again. “Mhm. Wanna make sure you remember me too.”

He groaned, low and content. “Like I ever could forget.”

And then he kissed you again–slower now.

The kiss lingered–soft and slow, no heat behind it now, just breath and closeness and the raw tenderness of being seen. When he finally pulled back, Rhett exhaled gently against your lips, eyes still half-lidded, lips brushing yours with each word.

“We should take a shower together,” He whispered. “Clean off…Then cuddle. Sound good to you?”

You nodded, voice caught in your throat from how gentle he was being with you. How careful. Like you might crack if he touched you too roughly now.

He kissed you again, barely a press. Then murmured, “I’m gonna pull out, okay?”

Your hands rose without thinking, cupping his face, your thumbs brushing the flushed heat of his cheekbones. “Go ahead,” You whispered.

He moved slow–achingly slow–as if trying not to jar anything loose inside you. His hips drew back, inch by inch, and the moment he slipped out, you gasped softly at the emptiness. It wasn’t pain. Just…The absence of him. Of fullness. Of connection.

He looked down instinctively, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw the smear of red on the tip of himself. Just a trace. Just enough.

His eyes flicked up immediately. “Are you okay?” he asked, voice low and urgent.

You nodded, resting a hand on his chest, the rise and fall of it still heavy from exertion. “I’m okay,” You whispered. “I promise. Just sore.”

He held your gaze for a moment longer, then leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Alright,” he murmured. “Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart.”

He stood first, reaching for your hand to help you up gently. You wobbled a little on your legs, but he caught you before you could sway too far. Wordlessly, he guided you to the washroom, one arm around your waist, the other bracing you.

You sat on the toilet while he turned on the shower, the sound of the water filling the small room. The bathroom lights were still dim, the warm tiles grounding beneath your bare feet. You leaned forward slightly, your elbows resting on your knees as you peed, feeling the soft, warm leak of him spilling from between your thighs–a small gush that made you shiver.

Rhett noticed. He turned, saw your face, and came to crouch in front of you. One hand cupped your knee, the other brushed your hair back as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“You’re okay?” he asked again, voice like velvet.

You nodded, breathless. “Yeah. Just… feelin’ it, that’s all.”

When you finished, he helped you up again, kissed your shoulder, and led you to the shower. The steam had already begun to fog the mirror, the tiles warm beneath your feet as you stepped in together. The water cascaded over both of you–hot and comforting, like being wrapped in the weight of the moment all over again.

Rhett stood behind you, arms around your waist, kissing your shoulders, your neck, the back of your ear with a tenderness that nearly undid you.

And then it hit you.

The comedown.

It came quiet at first–just a tightness in your chest, a knot in your throat–but then the tears came. Hot and sudden and silent, slipping down your cheeks before you even had the words for them.

Rhett felt the shift immediately. He stepped back just enough to turn you in his arms, his hands rising to frame your face, thumbs brushing your wet cheeks–not from the water this time.

“Y/N…” he whispered, heart in his throat. “Are you okay? Are you in pain?”

You shook your head quickly, the motion jerky. “No–fuck, no. It’s just…The come down.” Your voice broke, cracking like a branch.

His thumbs kept stroking your cheeks, his lips soft and close. “Sweetheart, are you sure?”

You nodded again, more firmly this time. “Yes. I’m okay. You were so fucking good, Rhett. I just…” You exhaled, choking a little on the emotion. “My emotions are all over the place. I promise I’m okay.”

He kissed your tears. One cheek. Then the other. Then your lips–soft and slow and grounding.

“Okay,” He murmured, pulling you against him. “Let’s get you cleaned up… then I’m gonna hold you in bed. Alright?”

You nodded against his chest. “Yeah…Okay.”

And he did. He reached for your body wash–your scent, your favorite brand, that sweetness he always smelled on you–and poured it into his palms. His hands moved with reverent care, smoothing over your skin with slow, deliberate tenderness. He washed every inch of you like it mattered. Like it meant something. He took his time with your arms, your back, your stomach, between your legs–gentle, never rushing.

You let him.

Because it wasn’t just about being clean. It was about being cared for. About being held in the aftermath of something big and beautiful and raw.

When he was done, he rinsed you slowly, pressing kisses to your shoulders between handfuls of water. Then he shut the water off, wrapping a towel around you first before doing the same for himself. He dried you off, careful and quiet, and then scooped your clothes from the floor and carried them out, returning a moment later to help you back into bed.

He tucked the blankets around you, kissed your temple, then turned to clean up–putting the lube away, picking up the scattered clothes, folding them gently and setting them aside. Then, finally, he crawled into bed beside you.

His naked body pressed to yours, all warmth and strength and safety.

One arm slid beneath your neck. The other wrapped around your waist, drawing you in tight. Your head rested against his chest. His breath was steady now. So was yours.

“I love you, Y/N…” he whispered, voice nearly lost to the night.

You curled into him tighter, lips brushing his collarbone. “Fuck, Rhett… I love you too.”

He smiled. You felt it against your temple.

And then the room fell quiet. Just the soft hum of the night air through the cracked window, the cooling scent of soap on your skin, and the steady beat of his heart under your cheek.

It was everything.

#rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott fic #rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott fanfiction #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #rhett abbot x reader #rhett abbott fluff #lewis pullman the man you are #lewis pullman characters #lewis pullman #outer range #fluff #fluffiness #smutty smut smut #smutty fanfiction #long fic #the hot hot heat of my steamy mind #SoundCloud

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iloveaustinelvisandmannymore · 2 months ago

Text

Don't save me.

Pairing: Geum Seongje x reader.

Summary: People told you that he was dangerous. A wild card. Not to be trusted. The redist red flag but didn't they know you're colorblind for him?

Warning: Toxic relationship, Bullying, Violence, Cheating?Arguing, Verbal abuse, Choking, Cream pie, P in v, Dirty talk, Plot with Smut?

You can't recall the last time you felt truly and undeniably happy. It has been so long since you laughed so hard that your stomach ached or smiled so broadly that your cheeks hurt. It's been a while since you experienced that exhilarating feeling of euphoria.

Middle school, you think.

Faint memories of laughter and jokes circulating, untouched lunches, and that once warm sensation. High school. Little you thought how cool and wonderful it would be.

What a load of bullshit.

A pained grunt escaped your clenched teeth as a strong kick to your stomach sent your body crashing against the steel gray lockers. Your head struck hard against the metal, and your body crumpled to the floor.

"Are you going to open that smart-ass mouth again, or should I just keep going?" Ha-yoon's makeup-caked face sneered. You didn't know why you snorted back a chuckle nor why a small, sarcastic smile had crept onto your lips.

"You think this is funny?" she screeched, her hand rearing back.

"Ha-yoon, cut it out," Eun-kyung's angelic voice said as her dark eyes finally glanced up from her manicured nails. She pushed off the wall, and Ha-yoon backed away immediately.

'Just like a loyal puppy. Obeying her Mistress's order'

Eun-Kyung sighed through her nose like she was tired of wasting her time. She squatted down, allowing her silky raven hair, which was pulled into a ponytail, to fall over her shoulder. With her elbows resting against her thighs and her cheek resting on the ball of her fist, she gazed at you with a look of boredom and disinterest.

"You're fucking pathetic when you run that mouth. It almost seems you like pissing me off." Rage flicked through her irises as she quickly grabbed your hair and slammed your head against the lockers. "Unless cunt!" She yelled and slammed your head again, harder.

Your vision blurred and your ears rang. Black surrounded the edge of your vision before you passed out. Cruel laughter and fading footsteps were the last thing you heard.

When you came too and began to walk to your small apartment, your head ached and throbbed. Despite that, it was manageable if you took some pain medicine.

You were going out with Seongje, your long-time boyfriend, at a new club with some guys from the Union and you won't let a headache and a few stupid bruises stop you from seeing him. Being with him made you feel so alive; with him, you were respected by the gang. You were Seongje's girl. And nobody was foolish enough to mess with you unless they wanted to be beaten to half to death.

Dating him wasn’t always a smooth ride. Arguments were common, and so were screaming matches. Things were thrown, and surfaces were punched, but he never hit you, nor did he aim at you. You understood he wasn’t a good person, yet he loved you in his own flawed way.

The dark club pulsed with music, and you could feel the rhythm with every step you took as Seongje led you, his arm draped casually over your shoulders. Flashing lights danced wildly around the room. Bodies moved, jumping and grinding against each other.

The group chose a round table to sit at, and soon it was cluttered with cigarette ash and empty bottles.

Sang-Ook, Dae-Ho, and Du-Ho were boys who attended the same school as Seongje and played together at Internet cafes. The twins were already drunk, laughing to themselves, and talking to Sang-Ook about which woman he was going to try to fuck and making crude jokes. Normal gross boy talk.

Seongje didn't say much; instead, he stared blankly while listening to the other boys, his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you close. You weren't interested in their conversation, so you simply snuggled into his side. You didn't know why he wanted to be there, but you followed him wherever he went unless it was related to gang activities.

Your eyebrows furrowed; the sudden pressure on your bladder was becoming too strong to ignore.

"Seongje," you whispered in his ear. He responded with a low hum of curiosity, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly with the sound. After a moment of hesitation, you shyly admitted that you needed to use the bathroom. Seongje chuckled, pulled out his favorite pack of cigs from his tiger-printed windbreaker, and lifted one to his lips, "Go," he ordered, nodding toward the direction of the bathroom.

"I'll be right back." You quickly got out of the booth. "Better. I don't like waiting." He lit the end of the cigarette and inhaled the gray smoke into his lungs.

You sighed in relief as you exited the stall and turned on the sink water. As you washed your hands, you remained unfazed by the sounds of the bathroom door opening and the clicking of two pairs of heels on the tiled floor. The two women giggled among themselves, and you could feel their intense stares directed at the side of your face. While drying your hands, you glanced at the wide mirrors above the sink.

A sickening dread dropped into the pit of your stomach as you caught sight of the familiar coral dye and blue highlights. Ha-yoon and Seo-Yeon.

'How were they here? Did they know you were going to be here? If they were here, doesn't that mean..'

You dared to meet Ha-yoon's gaze in the mirror. A mischievous cruelty sparkled back; she knew something, and if you didn't feel dread before, you certainly did now. Your breath quicked as you rushed out of the woman's bathroom.

You need to grab Seongje and go.

You stopped a few feet from the booth. This had to be a dream, a messed-up nightmare, but the painful shattering of your heart told you this was all happening.

Eun-kyung's honeyed giggles cut through the roaring music. Her black hair flowed over her shoulders like a river, her skimmy pastel dress fit her like a second skin and her soft pink lips curled into a flirty smile that beamed brighter than the lights that painted her and Seongje in rosy red as she idly played with his sliver chain—the chain you got him.

He simply sat there, his arm resting on the top of the booth above Eun-Kyung, his eyes intensely focused on her. His expression was unreadable, and when her beautiful eyes met his, you couldn't bear it any longer. You choked back tears as you pushed and squeezed past the people having the time of their lives.

You sniffed, your legs aching from the many rounds of walking you did in the nearby park for almost an hour. You didn't want to go home immediately; too much of him was there, from the many nights he stayed over.

You wiped the fading tears from your cheeks as you bent slightly to take off your shoes, throwing them down carelessly. Dragging your feet toward the couch, you paused and squinted your eyes. A figure was sitting there, a small red dote appeared from the darkness and the following smoke floated out in the illumination of the kitchen light. You inhale sharply and switch the living room light on.

Seongje stared at the blank TV screen for what felt like several seconds before adjusting his glasses. Slowly, he turned his head toward you, and his eyes fixed on your face. To anyone else, he appeared cool and unbothered, but you knew him better than that.

He was enraged.

"Where were you?" He leaned forward to put out his cigarette. "Why does it matter? You clearly were very busy when I came back from the bathroom." you shot back, your words sharp. He paused at your pointed response before finally extinguishing his cigarette in the wolf-shaped ashtray. "You let her..you let her touch you..and you didn't tell her to back off. Did you enjoy her company that much?" you asked, your voice breaking at the thought of the two of them together.

"You think I'd cheat on you? I may be a lot of things but a fucking cheater Isn't one of them." He spoke in a faux calm tone as he backed you into the hallway and into your bedroom.

"S-Seongje.." You warned.

"I thought My girl wasn't a dumbass." He ridiculed, a cruel smile stretching on his lips as he backed you more and more towards your bed

"Don't call me dumb! I'm not stupid! You jackass!" you snapped before letting out a surprised noise as you fell onto your bed, trying to escape from him. "Oh no, baby," he cooed mockingly. "I work with incompetent, useless punks. You're stupid if you think I would cheat on you with some one-and-million whore. Don't worry, though. I'll show you who I really belong to." Seongje shrugged off his windbreaker, letting it fall to the floor, and crept onto the bed after kicking off his pants and underwear.

You should be mad, pissed at him, shouldn't feel your treacherous cunt heat up, and gush slick but watching as he took off his shirt and threw it to the side, bare except his glasses and his chain. He was lean, and muscular in ways that counted, and his cock. His dick twitched as if sensing your admiring gaze.

He was above average length, so thick it struggled to stand up completely, and veiny. The glans was a darker shade than the rest of his skin; the slit oozed a pearl of pre-cum. And a trimmed bush around the base of his dick. His member was just as fine as him.

You happily helped him take off your clothes until you were both as naked as the day you were born. Seongje smirked smugly, the bedroom look you gave him made him want to take you right there but the urge to tease you won over. Seongje wrapped his arms around your spread legs and pulled your ass on top of his thighs. His dick slid between your folds, coating himself in your wetness, and the tip rested on your bud; he drew back and snapped forward, giving himself a pussy job.

"Just fuck me!" You cried as he continued to fuck your lips and clitoris. "I don't know. Should I?" He questioned. You cried, frustrated, and bucked your hips to try and fail to trick him inside, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry I accused you of cheating. Now fuck my brains out!" You screamed; Seongje simply hummed a 'good enough,' drew back until his cock head caught on your entrance, and he rolled his hips.

You both let a groan as he pushed into your tight, wet, gummy depths. The action alone was close enough to make you cum. His cock, lay heavy on your walls, and his veins brushed against those spots until he bottomed out. You grabbed his hands that gripped your hips and threw your head back, moaning loudly as he pulled out and slammed into you, "Can't believe, you think I'd give up this pussy," He grunted, thrusting harshly, the bed banging against the back wall "this is my fucking pussy. Mine." He growled pushing his hair away from his face before grabbing your neck, his fingers squeezing the side of your throat.

You gasped and moaned as you held his wrist, your eyes rolled back, "Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry-" you blabbed, drooling. Seongje laughed meanly, his eyes shined amused "Look at this. Did I already fucked my girl cockdrunk?" He released your throat and lifted your hips up more, making him reach deeper; the loud clapping of skin, the moans, groans, and cures along the embarrassing squelching of your cunted filled the room. Seongje's glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and his chain smacked against his sweat, glistening chest. Frustrated, he tore the glasses off his face, tossed them beside your head, and leaned down, his body covering yours. His large groped and knead your ass as he kissed you passionately. You wailed into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as you cummed.

Seongje pulled back, grunted as his eyes flutter shut, his hips slamming into your hips, his fast pace because sloppy as his dick twitched. He grunted one more time as his hot cum spilled into your pulsing pussy, painting you white from the inside.

"You were meant to be mine.." Seongje spoke up after you both cleaned up and laid together. Your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat lull you to sleep, "We were meant to be" he whispered into your ear, your eyes finally closing. If this was a dream from your otherwise miserable life you didn't want to wake up.

#weak hero geum seong je #weak hero class two smut #weak hero class two #weak hero kdrama #geum seongje smut #geum seong je x reader #seongje x reader

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sadhours · 9 months ago

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eat me alive

eddie munson x fem!reader

an: well here it is… my first eddie smut. i didn’t see this happening and i know y’all didn’t either. go easy on me.

cw: 18+, minors dni, smut, oral (f receiving), drinking and cannabis use, unprotected (don’t be like me) p in v and some cum play/eating?

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

You’re pretty blitzed. The weed from Eddie’s joint pulsing through your veins. A stoned you don’t think you’ve felt before, but there’s a desire to impress the guy. So you smoked more than you normally would. The speakers in his room are loud. They drown out any outside noise and when Eddie talks, you can’t hear him. But you’re in a daze, watching his face light up as he blabs on. You think he’s talking about the song. But his hand is on your thigh, squeezing occasionally and it’s all kind of intoxicating. His hair bounces as he talks. You like how long it is. The longest you’ve seen a boy have.

His hand is warm on your leggings, the heat of it pulsing up to your core. And that wasn’t your intent coming over here. You don’t know Eddie well. But he’s friends with your brother and you think he’s kinda cute and really funny. So somehow, you’ve wound up in his trailer after school. Higher than you’ve ever been, holding a beer you’re taking a long time to drink while Eddie’s crushed like three of them. You don’t even remember how his hand ended up on your leg but you don’t want him to move it and you like looking at his face even though you can’t understand what he’s saying.

“This part!” he yells, retracts his hand and mimics playing guitar— air guitar. Bangs his head with this big smile on his face, stomping his foot with a force that has you feeling it under the mattress. A distant thought about how you’ll get home muddies your high and your face mimics it because Eddie leans back and turns down the music. “You okay?”

“How am I gonna get home?” you ask, your voice sounds foreign on your ears, like it’s far away and kind of underwater.

Eddie’s face contorts in confusion as he asks, “Do you have to go now?”

“No!” you shake your head, “But when I do.”

He laughs, reaches for your thigh again and squeezes, “I can drive you home when you do. You know the van we got here in? It can drive you home. If I control it.”

“Oh,” you giggle. You didn’t think about that. You feel so fuzzy and you’re really liking how his hand feels on your thigh. “Okay!”

He smiles. It’s sweet on his face and then he’s moving closer, nudges his forehead against yours, “Am I boring you?”

“No!” you insist, “I just feel weird.”

“Weird good or weird bad?” he asks, hand moves to your hip and you blink, trying to see him clearer.

“I’ve never been this stoned,” you confess, “But I think it’s good. The music sounds nice and you’re pretty.”

“I am?” he asks, cheeks swelling with his smile as he meets your eyes.

“Yeah,” you whisper with a slight nod.

“I like this music a lot,” he replies, “Makes me feel fuzzy. Do you feel fuzzy?”

“I do. Is that normal?” you ask softly, wrapping your hand around his bicep. You feel like you’re sinking into his mattress and he’s on top of you. But he isn’t really. He’s sitting up.

“It is normal…” he replies and then bites his lip, “Ya know what might feel good?”

“Sleep?” you reply with a giggle and Eddie mirrors it, then cups your cheek with his palm.

“Kissing.”

“Oh,” you swallow hard. He leans in, nudges his nose against yours.

“Does that sound nice?” he asks, sounds just as floaty as you feel.

You nod, whispering out a small, “Yeah.”

And then his lips are on yours, it’s soft and he’s right, it feels good. Kind of makes you even dizzier, but his hand on your face grounds you a bit and before you know it, you’re licking into his mouth. He meets it with a gasp and licks back. Soon, he is laying over you, holding himself on his elbows as he sucks on your tongue and rubs his own against yours.

He’s right that it feels good but it just makes you feel more stoned and you’re squeezing your thighs because there’s a desperate pressure building between them. His hair tickles the side of your face and you find yourself knitting your fingers through it, rolling your hips up at his. He responds with a roll of his own, more pressure than you gave him. Eddie moans softly, pulls back and looks down at you.

“Does it feel good?” he asks, all soft but out of breath.

“Uh-huh,” you nod and roll your hips up at him again. “Do you think it does?”

He nods slowly, grabs your hand and brings it to his crotch. You can feel his erection through his pants as he says, “Really good.”

You giggle and he mirrors it, maneuvers a bit to get more on top of you and his foot kicks over a stack of empty PBR cans on the floor. They crash down and his face winces, making you giggle even harder and wrap your arms around his neck. You pull him into another kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist. You can feel the strained but impressive length in his pants against your core and it sprouts a moan from you, swallowed by Eddie’s eager mouth as he grinds down against you.

Then he’s suddenly pulling back, looking at you with big, dark eyes, “Can I taste you? I wanna taste you.”

You nod enthusiastically and it’s a team effort to get your leggings and panties off. He pushes your legs up, thighs against your chest as he gets his mouth on you. Moans in appreciation at the taste, flicks his tongue against your folds as he squeezes the fat on the back of your thighs. You squeak at the sensation, heightened by your intoxication. You’ve never been this stoned and you’ve never felt a tongue on your cunt while stoned. It fucking sends you to another planet. Reaching between your legs to grip his mane, tugging on the loose waves as your back arches. Eddie repeatedly flicks his tongue against your clit, gasping and whining as he gets his fill. It feels like you should be the one making the noises but, god he really seems to be enjoying himself.

Picking your head off the mattress, you look down your body at him between your legs and he’s actually grinding against the air. His eyes meet yours and lord, they look desperate. Hair shaking, he moves his whole head as he licks you out. You pull on his hair and he moans loud against you. It’s all happened so quick but you couldn’t be happier. This is the peak of human happiness. It has to be. With Black Sabbath as a soundtrack, you’re on the quick train to a blissful destination. All thanks to Eddie’s determined tongue. Then he does something that sends you over the edge. Slips two fingers inside you and curls them. Pulls a sound out of you, you didn’t know you were capable off. Eyes closed tight, stars flashing behind your lids.

When you come down, he’s meeting your lips with his. You can taste yourself and it only makes you hungry for more. A whine from you is swallowed down by Eddie and he continues kissing you desperately. You’re almost overwhelmed but at the same time insatiable. He reaches down, slips his fingers back inside you as he licks into your mouth. You pant, reaching down to grab his wrist and he smiles.

“Sorry,” he exhales, “Too much?”

“Wanna feel.. wanna…” you try to catch your breath, “Wanna make you feel good.”

“This is making me feel good,” he assures you, curling his fingers with a devilish grin.

“It— oh, fuck— it does?” you reply in a moan.

He nods again, “But you want me inside you?”

Another gasp, another slow nod. You do, you really do. You can’t even begin to imagine how it would feel. Eddie’s moving to undo his pants, fussing with his belt as you pull his shirt over his head. Then you work on your top and bra as Eddie sheds his pants and briefs. His cock flops out and slaps against your pussy, you inhale sharply and he does too. Both pairs of eyes falling between your bodies, observing where his erection lays against your puffy pussy. Still watching, Eddie reaches down and rubs the tip of his cock through your folds. Circles it against your entrance and then slides it back up, slaps it against your clit for good measure which draws a high-pitched moan from you. He groans softly and then drags it back down, holds it to your entrance before his hips thrust toward, sheathing inside you once and for all and you’re gone.

Dizzy, you cling onto him and roll your hips. He sinks deeper inside and you keen, eyes fluttering shut.

“Oh, Eddie!” you whine, hands knit into his hair again and he replies with a kiss. Messy and stoned. A battle of tongues and teeth, his hips stuttering with these shy thrusts that feel like heaven.

He nuzzles his face against your neck as he pumps into you. It’s so warm and gooey and deep. You can’t keep your hands out of his hair, loving the way it feels as he pumps into you over and over. And it feels like it goes on for hours, continuing to meet for a kiss every so often. Open mouthed and needy. And then the cassette stops and Eddie groans, pulls back and walks over to the boombox. You watch his ass with intrigue, giggling softly as he grabs another tape and switches it for the one that ended. Iron Maiden starts to blast through the speakers as he turns, catches your gaze on his ass and laughs. He walks back over and smacks the side of your thigh, “Pervert.”

“Sorry,” you apologize through a smile, spreading your legs for him as you pull him back down on top of you.

He kisses you softly, mumbles against your lips, “I like it.”

You giggle, kissing back and Eddie reaches between your bodies. Lines himself back up and slowly sinks into the warm, pulsing walls of your pussy. He moans out, softly and rolls his hips. In and out, in and out. Until your eyes cross and your lips part, moan rolling off your tongue. Eddie gropes your tits then, circles his thumb over your perked nipple. A whine falls from you, the sensation extra wonderful with the cannabis induced sensitivity. He leans down and captures your nipple in his mouth. Moves his hand down and then his thumb is circling against your clit, persistent and firm.

“Eddie…” you exhale, a warning— letting him know what’s ahead but it hits you before you can say anything else. Euphoric waves pulsing through you as your body freezes up, back arching as you let out a broken moan. His lips are suddenly on your ear and the waves don’t subside like you except.

“That’s a good girl,” he pants out, “Give it to me, just like that. You’re so perfect.”

You feel like your orgasm extrapolates, magnifies and spreads out all over. Intense enough you feel tears pricking your eyes and the Iron Maiden song is all muffled. You don’t even realize you’re repeatedly moaning and gasping until you start to finally come down. Out of breath and fuzzy all over.

Eddie groans, low and deep as he thrusts even harder and faster. Voice a whine as he confesses, “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

You smile wide, wrapping your arms and legs around him and pulling him closer. But he panics, “No, no, no… can’t cum in you.”

A part of you wants to argue but you know that isn’t smart so you let up on the grip. He pulls out, strokes his cock hard and fast until he’s spilling cum all over your chest and navel. Stays upright like that as he catches his breath and your hands find his spunk, smearing it around and whining in the dazed, post-coital bliss you’re feeling. Eddie whines back, “Fuuuck…”

He watches you with curious eyes as you bring your hand up to your mouth and lick the cum off your fingers and palm. He wavers, panting heavy and then he’s smiling. Reaches for a dirty t-shirt and cleans up his mess on your skin. Leans down to give you a fat and sloppy kiss before he’s standing up again. Pulls a pair of sweats on and looks at you, “Be right back.”

In the time he’s gone, you’ve dressed again and sit on the edge of his bed to wait for him.

He comes back with a big cup of water, handing it to you and smiles, “That was fun, huh?”

“Yeah,” you say shyly as you take the water and gulp half of it down.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x y/n

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sodaneko · 3 months ago

Text

SUPERNOVAE ; Sakusa x gn!reader

He trails a bunch of kisses from your collarbone up to the side of your neck, to your jaw, lingering. There’s this gentleness that’s reserved for no one but you, a side of him only you get to see. Kiyoomi loves you. He loves you more than anything, loves you like it’s breathing.

contains: gn!reader (no pronouns used, no bodily descriptions except reader vaguely being described shorter than Kiyoomi), childhood friends to lovers, fluff, bit of a slowburn, teeny tiny bit of teenage angst, romance starts after they graduate high school, around 3 very lightly suggestive sentences, no beta we die like my sanity the moment i laid my eyes on sakusa kiyoomi for the first time

word count: 2.6k

When he turns five, Kiyoomi is told to smile for the camera. His birthday table is opulent, myriads of wrapped up gifts and a cake almost his height. He doesn’t make a wish when he blows out the candles nor does he smile for the photos no matter how much his parents or older siblings begged him to. Their large hands tugging on his face, fixing his collar, ruffling his hair–it was all too much, suffocating in a way no child should ever feel. If only he could grow up faster so he wouldn’t have to put up with their act anymore. He learned too young that it was all fake, a facade they put up, some broken play the adults have perfected over time. Once they start arguing like they always do, he quietly slips away without any of them noticing.

There’s a small hole in the garden fence and it’s his best kept secret. It leads him to the only person he wants to see: You.

You with your scraped knees and mismatched socks. You with the mischievous glimmer in your eyes. You with the bouquet of daisies in your tiny fist, calling out his name the moment you spot him.

Kiyoomi doesn’t smile for the camera, but he does for you. That’s something that will never change over the years.

At the age of ten Kiyoomi and you have a matching tooth gap from when you lost your baby teeth. You told him about the tooth fairy and he informed you that’s bullshit the adults made up, which he regretted immediately because it made you cry and more than anything he hates seeing you cry. To make up for it, he put both of your teeth under his pillow because “his parents are actually richer than the tooth fairy” and bought you a cake from the pastry shop you walk by every day on your way home from school.

“But it’s your birthday, not mine,” you’d protest, half-heartedly, with one finger collecting the buttercream from the cake box already, and Kiyoomi would grab the strawberry from his slice and put it on yours because he knows they’re your favorite and maybe he wants to be your favorite, too.

It's puppy love, so sweet and tender. He keeps feeding you strawberry shortcake while you weave daisy chains for him, and occasionally he’d grumble something under his breath but doesn’t pull his hand away when you slip a ring made from daisies on his fingers.

“Look, we match,” you’d say with a beaming smile, your tooth gap on full display. Kiyoomi still has the daisy ring from that day, pressed between pages of his textbook.

Kiyoomi is fifteen and the cherry blossoms are blooming early this year. He picks a petal from the crown of your head and keeps holding it between his fingertips as he pushes his bike next to you on your way home from school. When did he get so much taller than you? Have you always smelled this sweet? Is it normal to notice how long your lashes are when you glance up at him? He can easily tuck you under his chin now and it stirs up something unfamiliar in his chest.

There’s a certain kind of protectiveness he feels about you now. Are the guys at high school bothering you (probably not since you’re always glued to his side) and have you eaten enough (you did since he buys your lunch every day) and who will come pick you up and escort you home when you come down with a fever during homeroom (he will, without question)? Sometimes it gets so very loud in his head, and then you slip your hand into his when no one is watching and calmness washes over him like a warm summer rain.

When you’re fifteen, sometimes the world seems to end on a casual Wednesday, but Kiyoomi thinks he’ll be alright as long as he’s with you.

You’re graduating together on his eighteenth birthday and you just can’t stop crying. There’s something so bittersweet about this day, an inevitable ending bleeding into a new beginning. All of your school years spent with each other desk by desk, with your little doodles on the side of his notes and crumbled notes passed back and forth between you, your feet nudging another under the tables during group work. You grew up together and the passing of time was both ruthless and beautiful.

“You’re being ridiculous,” he grumbles but keeps one arm tightly wrapped around you while your face is hidden against his chest. Your body shakes slightly with every hiccup. Years later and he still feels helpless against your tears, wanting nothing but to kiss them away but he doesn’t know if you’d let him. Usually his bluntness keeps him away from the guessing game, but it’s different with you.

Everything is different with you.

“Seriously, stop it,” he murmurs, now cupping your face with both hands. He sees it all; the uncertainty in your eyes, the small wobble of your bottom lip, the way your lashes stick together from your tears, and yet you never looked more beautiful in his eyes. He’s the one you come to for comfort, as if it’s a rare treasure you can only find in his arms. It’s an honor, he thinks. Holding you, being needed by you, falling in lo–no, that’s a really big word still. Or is it?

“We have an entire summer of our own ahead of us and we’ll go to the same college starting in fall,” he says, tilting your face up slightly as he leans in closer, his breath ghosting over your skin. “We’re gonna be roommates. Haven’t you been building our apartment in the Sims since we were twelve? We can even have the library slash in-house pâtisserie you’ve been dreaming about. I’ll make sure of it. So stop crying, okay? You have me. You’ll always have me.”

You can’t help but laugh through your tears now, a sound like windchimes, and Kiyoomi’s features soften. He’s holding his sun and his future between his palms right now.

At twenty-one Kiyoomi is very busy kissing you. A lot.

Between volleyball training and your college schedules there’s only so little time you get to spend at the apartment together, but Kiyoomi is eager to make every minute count, and by that he means having your lips melt against his at any given moment. Whether it was in the bathroom while you brush your teeth together, in the doorframe when you’re already running late for class, in the elevator when there wasn’t anyone else around or open-mouth kisses pressed against the kitchen counter–he could never get enough of you, not once ever since he got a taste of you.

“You’re clingy, my sweet birthday boy,” you murmur but there’s no heat behind your words, just soft amusement. There’s not a lot of room for argument when you’re currently trapped on the couch from Kiyoomi’s entire weight on top of you. Your fingers dance up and down his bare back while his face is nuzzled in the crook of your neck, inhaling your familiar scent, his curls still damp from the shower.

His lips ghost over yours, a silent dare, an unspoken promise.

“You were saying?”, he mutters, eyes darting to your lips before they catch your gaze again. There’s a hint of a smile playing upon his lips that widens the moment you pull him down with your mouth agape, your hand now tangled in his hair and pulling on it slightly, his tongue slowly sliding against yours. Sometimes he thinks it must be some kind of magic, the way your kisses taste sweeter than syrup, having him addicted to you, love-drunk even.

You celebrate his twenty-fourth birthday between moving boxes and takeout containers. In all this chaos you still find time to grab a cake on your way home, lighting a single candle for him while he’s busy in the kitchen wrapping up plates and your favorite mugs. Seeing you standing there, beaming while telling him to make a wish, his heart tumbles in his chest, against his ribcage, dizzy from all the love he holds for you.

If he is being honest with himself, Kiyoomi feels guilty and selfish. You spent your whole life in Tokyo, had your social circles, work and stability here, and yet he didn’t even have to ask if you’d be willing to move to Osaka with him after he signed to play for the MSBY Black Jackals. It’s as if it was out of question for you, the possibility that you two could be apart, even if only temporarily. You just shrugged it off, told him you could work anywhere, that you want to see him succeed in what he loves.

He wants to protest–it is you who he loves–but you shush him with a kiss, your hands coming up to cradle his face.

“We have a lifetime together, don’t we? We can be whoever we want to be, live wherever we want to. All I’m asking is for us living this life together. I love you. Hey, look at me. I love you. You can be a little selfish with me, okay?”

For the first time ever, Kiyoomi makes a wish when blowing out his birthday candle; to protect your happiness and your heart, to grow old with you, to bask in your love till his last breath. He’ll do anything in his might to make it all come true.

It’s his twenty-seventh birthday and once again you’re crying.

The end of the current Japan's V.League season is just around the corner and MSBY is playing an away match you were supposed to attend too. Kiyoomi got you flight tickets and a nice hotel in advance, planning to spoil you while you were there to cheer for him, but unfortunately you came down with the flu a few days before the trip was supposed to happen.

Your voice is hoarse and you sniffle on the other end of the line, upset to be missing out on seeing him play. What’s even worse is that it’s the first birthday you’re spending apart in all the time you’ve known each other since childhood. Hearing you sob is straight up breaking his heart.

“I’ll rent out a car and drive back home to you after the game,” he says calmly, trying to soothe you in your misery. “It’s only a few hours drive, I’ll manage. You let yourself get knocked out by your cold medicine and I’ll be there when you wake up in the morning, okay? We can pretend it’s still my birthday. It’s not a real birthday anyway without a kiss from my favorite person in the whole world.”

He knows you want to protest and tell him to celebrate the end of the season with his team, but he shushes all of your husky attempts of talking back at him. When it comes to you, there’s no distance big enough to keep you apart, drawn to another like the moon and the tides, two exoplanets in an orbit of their own. Kiyoomi would swim across any ocean and cross all the stars if it meant getting a glimpse of you one more time; maybe steal a kiss or two. Whatever it takes, even if it’s lifetimes–as long as it leads him to you, he’ll find the strength to endure it.

There’s no one else he loves more than you.

“I swear, there's one gray hair. It’s right here,” you mumble with your fingers tangling in his curls. Kiyoomi huffs but he doesn’t bother to open his eyes, his head currently resting in your lap. He’s content spending the night before his twenty-ninth birthday like this, just the two of you in the quiet of your apartment, but he can tell you’re restless. Your nimble fingers trace along his face, like a sculptor admiring their work; dancing along his jaw and his cheekbones, up to his birthmarks above his eye and the cupid’s bow of his lip. Eventually he catches your wrist, pressing your palm against his cheek before looking at you.

“Conbini walk?”, he suggests, knowing he can always get you with that one. You lean down to kiss him and Kiyoomi groans quietly, torn between not wanting to leave his perfect spot and wanting to do whatever makes you the happiest.

His fingers weave together with yours before he slips them into the big pockets of his jacket. The nights of late March were still cold and even though the walk wasn’t that long, Kiyoomi hates the thought of you being cold. He follows you around the market, watching you as you fill the basket with any snack your heart desires, occasionally stealing a glance over your shoulder to get his approval. It’s a playful routine you’ve established by now, from the way he insists on carrying the things once the basket gets too heavy to the click of his tongue when you attempt to pay with your card and not his.

There’s powdered sugar on the tip of your nose from the cream puff you hold in your free hand as you walk back home through the empty streets together and Kiyoomi smiles, leaning down to kiss it away. You giggle softly and playfully shove his face away, getting even more sugar on both of you in the process.

“You’re impossible,” Kiyoomi mutters but the smile on his lips betrays his words. He collects a bit of cream from the corner of your mouth with his thumb and licks it off, now his turn to laugh when you feign indignation. It’s only you who can bring out this side of him.

When you tap the screen of your phone, the clock shows 00:01; another round around the sun, another waltz with you in his arms.

“Make a wish, love,” you declare softly, looking at him like he’s adoration personified.

Kiyoomi gives your hand another small squeeze before bringing it up to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles. His thumb rubs absentmindedly over your ring finger, his thoughts briefly wandering to the small velvet box sitting in the drawer of his nightstand for your anniversary next month.

What do you wish for when you already have everything you could’ve ever dreamed of and more?

He presses another kiss to the back of your hand, then to your wrist, before pulling you closer, his strong arms encircling you. He leans down and buries his face in the crook of your neck, his favorite place in the world, craving every bit of skin on skin contact he can get while you’re wrapped up in warm clothes like this.

“All my wishes came true the day I met you,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. “But if there’s one selfish thing I can wish for–it’s to love you for as long as the sun and the moon rise and set. Let me love you till the end of time, if that’s alright with you.”

a/n: i love him too much. hbd to my sweet boy.

gen tag list:

@kentocalls @wyrcan @nekozaki @kittygirl11829 @bakingcuriosity

@bakery-anon @jodercriis @chaotic-neutral-ig @kitsune-kita @kameyyy

@cookielovesbook-akie

gen taglist is open! fill out this form to be added (or removed, no hard feelings) ♡

#hq x reader #sakusa x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x you #sakusa x you #sakusa kiyoomi #hq sakusa #hq fluff #hq reader insert #haikyuu reader insert #haikyu x reader #-`♡´- .txt

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darknight3904 · 4 months ago

Text

Sure as Hell Ain't Worth it

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your childhood best friend, Joel grows tired of you hunting for "the one" in all the wrong guys. Warnings: 18+ Joel Miller: Gentleman in the streets, Freak in the Sheets!! Smut, Language, Oral F! receiving, unprotected p in v (ew don't do that irl), breeding kink, dom Joel, pussy pronouns, PWP. Reader and Joel are both in their mid-20s. Imagine it's like the early 2000s. No pressure tags, just thought you might like it: @freythecrazyfae @heartpatch @amyispxnk Word Count: 6.2k Inspired by the song I Ain't Sayin' by Jordan Davis

"That beer ain't gettin' any colder." Joel motions to the sticky bartop where your hands curl around a bottle of Lone Star.

You sigh and bring the glass to your lips, polishing off the rest in one fell swoop. Setting it back down you glance around the stuffy atmosphere of Kim's Bar on this wonderful Texan Friday night.

"What's wrong? Normally you talk my ears off." Joel asks bumping his elbow to yours.

You sigh and kick your feet back and forth, taking note of how they dangle from the barstool, "I dunno. I think I'm just tired tonight."

"They got you on nights again?" Joel asks sipping at his own beer

"Only twice a week. Most of the time I just sit at the nurse's station though." You reply

Joel nods, "Outta put you on days only. You been workin' there for what five years now? There's gotta be some schmuck fresh outta school to take your spot."

You had graduated with your RN at 22, and your past five years had been spent working at Valley Central Hospital, a short twenty-minute drive from your little apartment here in Austin.

"Yeah, well. I don't write the schedule." You reply, resting your chin in your hand, turning to look at your best friend.

Joel gives you a grunt in acknowledgment, motioning to the bartender with his card.

"I can pay." You say, reaching for your purse that was sitting in your lap

"I got it." Joel says, passing his card off, "Sides' how're you gonna pay off those loans if you're buyin' me drinks?"

You huff and shove your wallet back into its little nook in your bag. Joel had a point. He had been working as a contractor since the two of you had graduated high school. The labor seemed backbreaking to you but at least he wasn't thousands of dollars in the hole.

Joel rises to his feet, towering over you as he offers his hand to you. You take it without a second thought and let him lead you through the crowded bar, his broad back obscuring your vision.

The sudden shout of your name over the loud music as you halt your steps, your shoes squeaking as they stick to the dirty floor. You drop Joel's hand and spin around to the voice.

"You gotta be fucking joking." You groan, your eyes drifting to the source of the voice.

"Could say the same thing." He laughs loudly

Cole, a guy you'd gone out with a week ago was pushing his way toward you. It'd been only one date yet he had been relentlessly emailing and texting you for a second one.

You'd met him in the produce section of the grocery store, he was cute enough, taller than you, and had nice hair. You hadn't anticipated his horrible personal views though. Your first date with Cole had been spent at a restaurant listening to him drone on and on about how much he hated "non-traditional values". At first, you didn't understand what he was getting at but eventually, you put two and two together and realized he didn't like the idea of women leaving the kitchen, or well home in general.

What a load of bullshit that was. If some mediocre man thought you'd be giving up your degree that you'd given half your soul to, he had another thing coming.

"You haven't answered any of my emails," Cole says when he finally reaches you.

"Ah...well my internet has been weird..." You lie

"And my texts?" Cole asks

Dammit.

"Er...Well you see, I just don't think we're-"

A big hand lands on your shoulder from behind, "What's happenin' here? Got halfway to my truck without ya." Joel's deep voice cuts in as his eyes scan Cole

"Joel!" You exclaim, finally your savior had arrived

"We're just talking." Cole nods to Joel, "Think you owe me another date."

You shake your head, "I don't think we're compatible, Cole. Sorry."

Cole grimaces before his features twist into an ugly frown, "Are you serious? I even paid for that shitty pasta you ordered a week ago! I think I'm entitled to some more after spending 15 bucks on your ungrateful ass!"

"Hey!" Joel snaps at him, "Watch your tone."

Cole breathily laughs, shaking his head at you, "You're a fucking bitch."

With that he turns on his heel, disappearing into the bar. You wrap a hand around Joel's bicep, pulling him close to your side.

"Let it go." You order, knowing what Joel's next move is.

Joel grunts, "You're kiddin' me right? I'm not letting that sack of shit call you that and walk off."

You roll your eyes and pull Joel out the doors of the bar. He'd punched enough guys for insulting you over the years. Cole's stupid face would be spared tonight.

Joel helps you up into his truck before getting in the drivers seat and pulling out onto the road. You sigh, slipping your shoes off and tucking your legs into your chest.

"You ain't tired. Tell me what's really wrong?" Joel asks, "Is it that Cole guy? He ain't worth it, sweetheart."

"No, it's not him." You say truthfully, "He's a piece of shit."

Joel gives you a small laugh, "I second that."

You lean over and rest your forehead against the window, watching the way the headlights reflect off the Nissan in front of you.

"You ever get worried you'll die alone?" You ask

Joel snorts, "That's what's botherin' ya? I don't think we'll be dyin' soon. 25 is still young in my brain."

"No...I just mean like...Aren't you worried about settling down? Marriage? Kids?" You ask

A beat of silence follows as Joel digests your question. Your eyes take in his face, dipping down his neck to the soft green t-shirt he has on tonight, and blue jeans to match, beat-up work boots press on the gas pedal as he drives.

"Guess I'm more focused on just payin' bills and keepin' Tommy out of trouble...But I guess it's crossed my mind." He admits

You nod slowly, shifting a bit as he takes a sharp turn.

"That why you're goin' out with dipshits? Thinking some fool like Cole is "the one"? Joel teases, "Bet he can't even change the oil in whatever SUV he drives."

"Ugh. No!" You groan hiding your face in your hands in embarrassment.

"Yeah, yeah, You're not foolin' me, girl." Joel laughs as he pulls up to your apartment building.

"Whatever, Joel." You huff in embarrassment. Why was letting your closest friend in on your romantic dreams so embarrassing? Perhaps it was because he was a guy. Knowing him he'd probably wear that t-shirt another two times before washing it.

You jump down from his truck, pushing the door shut behind you.

"See ya next Friday!" Joel calls out the open window to you

You flash him your middle finger, an ongoing tradition you'd had with him since you were both 15.

"No manners!" Joel yells after you as you laugh to yourself.

Joel isn't sure what to make of the strange feeling that bubbles up in his chest whenever he sees you. It had started a year ago, the Texas sun was hung in the sky and was hot enough to cook an egg on his dashboard. You'd shown up to his house in a white sun dress, strappy brown sandals on your feet, and an oversized tote bag slung on your shoulder. It was a simple, low-effort look you'd thrown together to attend Tommy's high school graduation party with him yet it had his heart pounding in his chest.

Sure, Joel was aware you were...well female. He still remembered the first time it really clicked in his head. The two of you were 12 and a half, sitting in your bedroom playing Uno. One of your dresser drawers was half opened and he had spotted something lavender poking out of it. In his infinite twelve-year-old wisdom, he had scooped it up, only to find out what a training bra looked like. You shrieked so loud, he's pretty sure his eardrums broke a bit that day. He spent a week, trying to apologize to you and only won you back after buying you a popsicle at the corner store on the walk back from school.

It came to the forefront of his mind again, your sophomore year of high school. The two of you had holed up in the library your Chemistry final was a week away and you had been trying to help Joel cram a year of knowledge into his brain so he wouldn't have to repeat the class.

You had disappeared into the little unisex single-stalled bathroom at the back of the library for nearly twenty minutes. Joel had initially suspected you were constipated, after all, you had been complaining about your stomach all day long. Instead, he found himself out on a mission to hunt down a box of tampons at the corner store after you discovered the little pouch at the front of your bag was empty. He was pretty sure he bought the wrong ones but you never said anything about it.

And now, he was 25 and feeling it again. However this time instead of the sense of awkwardness and uncertainty, the fuzzy feeling of want was filling his chest.

He sighed and flopped onto his bed, head resting on the pillows as he stared at the ceiling. Joel's eyes lazily fell shut as his brain swam with thoughts of you and that stupid white dress you'd shown up in. The way you'd smiled and cheered when Tommy's name rang out in the football stadium, enthusiastically pointing your little digital camera at the stage when the principal finally handed his dumb-as-rocks baby brother the keys to his freedom.

His breath hitched a bit in his chest as he pictured you going out on a date with that Cole fucker. Even if it had only been once, he hadn't deserved your time of day. Had you gotten all dolled up for that piece of shit? Had you curled your hair and worn that light pink lip gloss Joel bought you for your birthday a few months ago?

Deep-seeded jealously clawed its way through his chest as he groaned again. Fuck, he was really losing it.

Three days later, Joel was standing in the To-go area of Sanchez's Mexican Restaurant when he spotted you. He'd been picking up overpriced tacos and a couple of burritos for himself and Tommy when he saw you at a booth alone.

You jumped when he slid into the booth, sitting across from you.

"Howdy, stranger." Joel greets you, reaching out to pluck a tortilla chip free from the overflowing basket the waiter had put down for you.

"Oh, hey Joel." You sigh, fingertips running along the rim of some drink you're down to the ice with.

"Now that's not a Texas welcome." He says, deepening his accent on purpose, knowing it always makes you laugh.

"I don't think I'm up for a Texas welcome." You sigh sadly, pushing your glass away, and slouching in your seat.

"What's wrong?" He asks, concerned

"I think this guy on my floor is standing me up." You huff

Joel glances around like he'll be able to identify the mystery man, "He works with ya?"

"Yeah. His name is Nick." You say, "He's a traveling nurse, but we hit it off and I asked him out."

Joel nods. He wonders why a pretty girl like you should even have to make the first move. God, other guys his age were dim.

"Guess he's not into me though." You huff, glancing over your shoulder again at the doors.

Joel stuffs another chip into his mouth and leans back so his back hits the plush of the booth. His eyes drift over your form, tonight you've got a light blue sun dress on. Lace trims the edges and a gold necklace with the letter of your first name sits nestled on your collarbones. You look positively angelic tonight.

This other guy must've lost his mind, you were sitting here waiting all alone for him and his stupid self looking like that.

Joel hears a hostess call his name, a brown bag in her hand as he looks around the waiting area for him.

"Wanna get outta here? Gotta a couple of burritos and tacos to go." He nods to the exit.

"What about Nick?" You ask sadly

Joel looks around again, god he can't believe this Nick fellow is standing you up like this. Joel was sure glad he wasn't in his boots, letting a woman like you go.

"Screw Nick." Joel declares, "He ain't worth it."

You snort out a laugh and quickly slap your hand over your mouth, mortified at the noise you just let out. Joel feels a smile tug at his face as he pulls you up from your booth, grabbing your purse from the seat,

"C'mon. Before you scare the other customers."

That earns him a laugh and a small swat to the arm.

Joel drives to the local Community Days and parks his truck for five bucks a couple hundred feet away from the Ferris Wheel. He drops his truck tailgate and sits with you, legs dangling as the two of you much away at Sanchez's "gourmet" Mexican.

Groumet his ass. Joel was almost certain he was going to pay for these tacos tomorrow morning on the toilet. At least they tasted decent when paired with the salsa.

"So who was this burrito for? "You ask as you wipe your face with a napkin.

"Tommy," Joel says

"I'm stealing your teenage brother's food now?" You tease

"Hardly a teen anymore. Twenty inna couple of weeks." Joel reminds you

"Quit reminding me. Making me feel old. " You huff.

"You're telling me. We're both gonna be pushing thirty soon." He reminds you

You groan and knock your foot against Joel's, sending sparks up the limb to his heart.

"Fuck off." You say, "Remember that time he tried following us that one Thanksgiving on our walk?"

"You mean the one where we smoked weed under that bridge?" Joel asks, thinking back to the holidays when he was still a teenager and Tommy was no more than 11.

"Yup." You grin

Food devoured and bellies full, Joel walks beside you along the fairgrounds. The loud whoops of children fill the silence between the two of you as you point at the clown that's balancing on a unicycle while juggling.

Joel's known you for twenty years now, he met you on the first day of kindergarten after you asked him if he liked to watch Thomas the Tank Engine on Tuesdays. Yet for the first time in twenty years he was unsure of what to say to you.

You and your perfect hair and soft makeup that made you glow, that pretty blue dress that was messing with his head, he hadn't felt this nervous since...well ever.

"So...what's this Nick like?" Joel finds himself dumbly asking

You huff and kick at the grass, "He's funny. Smart too, good at placing IVs too."

"Sounds like he's the real deal," He teases, "I mean IVs? Thats the wholeee package fo sure."

"Shut up, loser." You scoff, "You don't have room to talk. When's the last time you went on a date?"

Joel stalls, was it weird to say he hadn't been on a date since seeing you in that white sun dress a year ago?

"A gentleman never tells." He stupidly says

"Oh, so you're a manwhore then." You say plainly, snapping your fingers in his face

"What?!" Joel balks, he hadn't expected to to say that, "No! Notta, man...."

"Whore." You finish for him smugly

"Yeah, that." He embarrassingly huffs

"Then tell me. When was the last time you went on a date?" You demand, brushing up against him as the two of you walk along.

"Little more than a year ago." He caves, you could get him to give you one of his kidneys with the way you persuaded him to do things for you.

"Damn." You blurt out

"Now you're bein' mean." Joel huffs, picking his pace up, uninterested in being ridiculed by someone who swore Santa was real until they were 13. Seriously, he still couldn't believe you were that much of an idiot.

"No! I didn't mean it like that!" You scamper after him, "I just...always thought guys...y'know..."

"We what?" Joel asks, cocking a brow, he doesn't know where this is going

"Well, you know. I just thought they couldn't go that long without...release" You awkwardly say, avoiding his gaze, "Although I guess hands were made for a reason."

Joel feels his face heat up. He's pretty sure he's on fire from the embarrassment you've caused. Did you really think he was going to explode from not sleeping with a woman? What kind of shitty guys had you been with?

"Now that ain't how it works." Joel huffs as the two of you reach his truck, fishing his pockets for his keys.

"What do you mean?" You ask dumbly

"Guys...Well, we're not feral, sweetheart. We have self-control over stuff like that." He explains, "Not uh...being with someone won't kill us."

You look at him like he's nuts. He feels a bit guilty now, that he wasn't able to keep you away from dirtbags who pretended like they couldn't keep it in their pants.

"I knew it." You declare, "I knew it! All those fuckers were just full of it! Blue balls is made up shit!"

You point a finger to Joel's chest and he raises his hands in innocence.

"You...men, you're all so desperate for a warm body."

Joel sighs and pushes your hand away, "Promise we ain't all like that."

"Oh yeah? Well, introduce me to one then. I'd like to see him." You scowl

Joel lets a beat of silence go by before he gestures to himself, "You're lookin' at one right now."

You roll your eyes, "Yeah but...do you really count? I didn't even realize you were a dude until I found that pack of condoms under your bed when we were 16."

"Last time I checked, I'm a guy." Joel huffs, "And I thought you said you were gonna stop reminding me of that."

"What like you said you'd stop teasing me about that training bra I used to have?" You clap back

"I haven't brought that up in years!" Joel argues he can't even remember the last time he mentioned that to you.

"No! you brought it up at that New Year's Eve party! When you were drunk off your ass!"

Joel grimaces and shakes his head, he doesn't remember that at all, "Alright, fine. I'm sorry."

You grumble and cross your arms across your chest, leaning against the side of his truck as he stands across from you. A warm breeze blows by and pushes your hair out of place.

Joel can't help it, you've never looked more breathtaking to him. Fuck, when did his mouth get this dry? Where had all his spit gone?

"I'm in love with you." He blurts out

What the fuck had he done?!

He smacks his hand over his mouth like you've just given him the worse news in the world. Although Joel supposed in a few moments, you truly might be doing just that.

"What?" You ask, eyes wide, looking right at him

Joel doesn't say anything he just stares dumbly at you, hoping you might ignore it somehow.

"Are you fucking with me?" Your eyes narrow, taking him in

"N-No." He trips over his words, "I'm not, I swear."

You looked shocked now like he'd hit you with a train to derail your entire existence on this planet.

"I just...I've been sitting on it for a year now and it just came out." Joel says, "I promise I would've made it more romantic if you wanted. I just...M' a dumb guy who can't keep his mouth shut."

He's honest with you. He can't keep watching you go on date after date, looking for something you'd never find in any of those other men. He desperately wanted you to see that "the one" was right here in front of you, that he was it.

"Let's just forget I said anythin'. We can grab some ice cream at that shop you like."

You huff out a small breath and reach out. Joel nearly collapses here in the grass when you weave your fingers through his belt loops, pulling him close so his hips press against yours. Your back hits his truck as he leans into you, savoring the warmth of you pressed against him.

"You're not that dumb." You smile, "At least you manned up and told me."

Joel shrugs, feeling shy under your gaze. You know everything about him, lived through the awkward preteen years with him and yet you were making him nervous.

"If you don't want me...It's alright." He says, "Just had to get it out of my system I guess."

Your hair tickles his face as another shift of air moves it. You give him a mischievous smile, one he's seen many times over the years.

"Now when did you hear me say I don't want ya?"

Joel really thinks he's losing it now. Here you were pressed up against him, saying you want him too.

"Better not be fuckin' with me." He softly says, feeling vulnerable.

You giggle and lean forward, your lips brushing his just briefly before you pull away, "Never."

You and Joel are nothing but giddy smiles and laughs as he pulls you into his truck. You scamper past the steering wheel and into the passenger side. The sun is setting as he drives a bit too quickly down the road. Pink and orange hues paint the sky as his hand rests on your thigh. Every few moments you catch him, staring at you through the corner of his eye.

"Eyes on the road, Cowboy." You tease, shifting nervously when his hand inches a bit higher

Joel speeds past the turn to your apartment and before you know it, he's parking in his driveway. You stumble out of his truck, your mind drunk on thoughts of Joel Joel Joel.

Joel barely gets the front door open before you're on him. Who could blame you though? He was the most handsome man you'd ever laid eyes on. You had always been aware that Joel was well, hot. It'd been something gnawing at you since you were both 19, he'd shown up to help your dad mow the grass and took off his shirt. Fuck, that day had changed your entire life.

Okay well, this moment was sure to top that one.

"Needy little thing." Joel grins into your forceful kiss as he kicks the door shit

"Don't be mean." You huff

Joel scoffs like he doesn't believe you, "Really? I think you like it. Me bein' mean."

You roll your eyes, he couldn't possibly know about that yet.

"Gotcha." He snaps his fingers at you

"What? What do you have, Miller?" You ask, full of attitude

"You, baby. Y'like it when a guy gets a little rough with you."

Your face heats up in embarrassment. Okay, fine maybe he did know. But how? Was it that obvious?"

Joel sits down on the couch, pulling you into his lap and pressing a warm kiss to your neck.

"Saw your porn search history a few years back." He admits, "You gotta stop leaving your laptop unlocked."

You're ready to melt away in shame. God, what else had he seen? How did he even know how to access search history? You always thought Joel had been a total technology grandpa.

"It's natural, don't be embarrassed." He laughs a bit

You groan and hide your face in his neck, you're so fucking embarrassed. Any bravado and sexual confidence you had earlier was officially gone.

Joel's deep laugh fills your ears as he plops down on the couch, spreading his legs. He beckons for you to join him and when you take a step closer to him, he pulls you into his lap.

"Sorry, baby. You're just an easy target to tease." He whispers into your shoulder. peppering kisses against the skin as an apology.

Baby Baby Baby

You like the sound of that.

A little humph tumbles from your lips in response in response, as you snuggle closer to him, enjoying the unrestricted access you now have. Your fingers dance on the collar of his shirt before drifting up to the short curls at the base of his head. Joel hums and lets his eyes fall shut as your pretty pink acrylics weave through his hair.

"We should go to your room." Joel softly suggests when he looks at you again

You let Joel lead you down the hall, his big hand resting on the small of your back. Your nerves must be pretty obvious since he whispers into your hair that you'll be okay.

Joel pushes the door shut and you plop onto your bed, kicking your shoes off onto the rug.

Joel's eyes devour you when he turns to look at you. His eyes seem to particularly focus on the soft lace that lines the neckline of your dress. You fiddle with your fingers, you hadn't been this nervous about sleeping with a person since you lost your virginity back in your senior year of high school.

You expect Joel to do what most men would do now, to push your shoulders to the bedspread and pull the summer dress you've donned off you.

Instead, he drops to his knees in front of you, pushing your dress up a bit, he presses a kiss to each of your knees, his lips landing on the scars there.

"Didn't know ya still had these." He hums

"Rollerblading scars are for life I guess." You shrug

Joel lets out an amused chuckle, inching a bit closer to you before resting his head in your lap. He takes a deep inhale before resting his hands on your hips.

"You're a real weird guy, Joel Miller." You point out, resting your fingers on his hair

"What makes you say that?" He mumbles

"Most guys would be pulling my clothes off and you're here kneeling, resting your head on my thighs

"It could be between your thighs if you want." He cheekily suggests

You scoff and pull his head up by hooking a finger under his chin, his scruffy facial hair tickling your fingertips.

"Let me show you how a man should treat a lady like you," Joel asks

A small smile ghosts your face as you nod, pulling him up as you fall onto your back.

"Gonna show you all those guys, baby, they sure as hell ain't worth it."

Joel hovers above you, leaning down and kissing you before trailing his kisses down your neck to your collarbones, lightly nipping at the thin flesh and laughing when you squirm.

"Tell me how you like it." He says

Your face heats up. He'd been dead on earlier but god was it embarrassing to admit it. Your lips remain pressed shut as he presses a wet kiss to your cheek.

"Gonna make me work for it, huh?" He teases

Ugh, what a smug motherfucker he was.

Joel's big hand pulls at the zipper on your back, loosening the soft fabric of your sundress as he pulls at it.

"So beautiful." He breathes as the fabric pulls away to reveal your upper body

"You're a boob man?" You tease, noticing how he can barely tear his eyes from your bra.

Joel snorts, "You're kidding right? Have you seen these?"

His hands grope at your soft body, running his finger over your clothed chest.

"Lift your hips."

Joel pulls your dress down down down your legs before tossing it off your bed to the floor. You lay there, heart pounding in your mismatched set.

"I would've worn my lace ones if I knew this was gonna happen." You huff

"Perfect just like this." Joel approves, "I like you however you're comfortable."

His facial hair tickles your skin as he begins trailing kisses down your belly to the elastic band that sits on your hips. He presses a kiss to your mound before running a finger along the wet patch between your thighs.

"Has anyone ever tasted this pretty cunt before?" He hums, looking up at you

You nod your head, too nervous to speak right now. Of course, Joel was good in bed, he was walking sex on a stick, how you hadn't seen that before was crazy.

"Who?" He asks softly, his thumb finding your clit from above the fabric of your panties

"Umf- Ben Kingston." You whimper when he applies more pressure, god you wish he'd just rip your stupid underwear off already.

Joel's deep chuckle fills the sanctuary of your bedroom, "Ben? You mean that mullet-wearing guy who used to play JV lacrosse? That Ben Kingston?"

You nod, It'd been a few weeks after graduation, you were invited to a Fourth of July bash and at some point ended up in Ben's room tangled up in the sheets.

"Was he any good?" Joel smugly asks

You shake your head, "Not really...too um..."

"Too what?" Joel asks, curious now

"He was sorta, shy almost. Like it was gonna bite him or something." You say, remembering how Ben had just been too gentle with you

Joel nods cupping your cunt and pressing his palm to it, "She wants it rough, huh?"

You roll your eyes, propping yourself up on your elbows, "Are you gonna go down on me or what?"

Joel smiles at you, lust-blown eyes staring at you from between your legs, "You gonna be a good girl? Listen to me?"

You nod, wishing he'd just hurry up already.

A loud yelp leaves your lips, Joel Miller has just smacked your pussy. It wasn't too hard or soft yet it has your skin tingling and a new gush of wet pooling in your panties.

"Yes." You breathe

Joel gives you an approving look, he must want you to talk to him.

He shimmies your panties down your legs, eyes fixed on you the whole time.

"Come when I say, alright?" He asks

"Okay." You say, you've never had a guy take charge like this. Sure, they'd all been dominant in their own ways. But this? This was different. This was Joel, you used to eat popsicles on his front porch in the summer. And now here he was, telling you he was about to control your orgasms. Fuck it was hot though.

Joel presses two kisses to your clit before diving in and fuck does he put Ben to shame. His tongue licks a stripe from your hole all the way back up to your clit. Lips suctioning to the sensitive bud of nerves while you gasp and your legs threaten to fall closed.

"F-Fuck." You moan, unsure of what to do

"Stay open." He commands, pushing at your thighs that have tried to close around his head

Your hips jump when Joel pushes two fingers into you. You nearly scream when Joel’s lips attach to your clit once more, this time roughly sucking on you. His tongue continues dancing on you there as you roll your hips to meet him, gasping just a bit louder when his nose brushes you.

"Joel!" You whimper, a warning for how you're about to cum on his face

"You gonna cum?" He mumbles, acting like he doesn't already know, like he can't feel the way you're clamping down on his fingers and gushing down his wrist

"Y-Yes." You groan

Abruptly, he pulls away and you feel tears spring into your waterline. You were so close to euphoria and he was taking it away.

He thumbs away your tears, pressing a kiss to your forehead, "Don't cry, baby. M' gonna give you what you want, don't worry."

You sniffle, unable to help it, maybe your tears will get him back between your legs.

Joel runs a thumb between your folds, humming softly as wetness collects on his skin.

"Needy little thing, aren't ya. Didn't realize I was friends with such a slutty girl."

The words should hurt, they should. Hell, maybe if they were coming from anyone else's mouth they would. Instead, they have you nodding excitedly. Yes, you're a slut. You'll be anything for your dear Joel.

Joel lets out a small chuckle, "I knew you liked it like this. Like it when I'm mean to ya."

"Please."

"Please? " Joel smiles

"Fuck me." You groan, unclipping your bra and dropping it to the floor

Joel manhandles you to your stomach, his hands dancing up and down your back.

"Such a good girl, asking for it."

"Please, Joel." You whisper

A warm kiss is pressed to the nape of your neck before you feel him push into you. A shuddering breath leaves your lips as you hear Joel groan loudly behind you when his hips meet your ass.

"Feel good?" Joel asks genuinely

"Good." You huff, "Great, actually."

Joel's hands grip the soft flesh of your hips as he begins a rough pace that has you seeing stars. You bite down on your bottom lip and let out a loud keen when he brushes something inside you.

"That the spot?" Joel asks

You respond with a groan of his name and Joel chuckles, his hands squeezing your flesh, "Yeah, that's the spot."

His pace resumes and you're practically wailing into the sheets below you. You've had sex before but nothing like this, nothing like what Joel was providing you with right now.

Deep thrusts brush that spot inside you he's discovered as you moan his name, your brain empty of all thoughts.

Then, suddenly the world is tilting and Joel is manhandling you onto your back, pressing your knees up to your chest as he leans down to brush his nose against yours.

"Such a good girl..." He says, running a thumb across your cheek

Somehow he feels even better like this, even if it's a bit slower. Your breath mingles with his as he presses messy kisses to your lips and neck. Occasionally he'll dip down and suck at your chest, mumbling about how nice your tits are.

Your hips roll up to meet his hips as you rest your hands on his biceps, nails biting into the skin there.

"Close," You warn, "M' gonna cum, Joel." You huff, trying to keep your eyes on him

"Yeah? Gonna cum? Let me feel her gush and I'll her up." He says, "She'll be leaking with me for days after this, baby."

You shudder at his nasty words, loving the way they pool in your belly and send tingles up your spine.

At some point, Joel sneaks a hand to the mess between your thighs, he rubs two tight circles on your clit before you're tightening around him as your eyes slam shut while you cum.

"F-Fuck." Joel gasps, "Tight little cunt you got."

Joel fucks you through your orgasm while you weakly paw at his chest, overstimulation taking over.

"Take it, take it." He groans, his hips roughly slapping yours "Ugh, this f-fucking slutty pussy, teasing me for so goddamn long, gonna fuck a baby into her...

He's rambling now, lust-blown eyes slammed shut as he roughly takes his own pleasure. You haven't seen anything this hot as you watch Joel get off while using your body for himself.

And then, you feel it, warmth fills you as he finally finishes, a loud moan leaving his lips as he does. He stills above you, a moment passes before he finally looks at you.

It's as if a switch has flipped, two seconds ago he'd been this dominating sex god and now he was back to being the Joel you knew.

Warm kisses pepper your skin as he leans down to nuzzle his face into your chest.

"Pretty baby," He praises, "Thank you, sweetheart."

"I think I should be thanking you." You laugh, "I've never cum like that before, let alone had sex that good."

Joel laughs, kissing your jawline.

"I didn't go overboard? I know I can get real mean sometimes, it can scare sweet little things like you off."

You press a kiss into his brown curls that are a bit damp with sweat, "It was perfect."

Joel shifts, pulling out of you while you wince under him, "Sorry baby."

His spend drips out of you onto the already messy sheets. Your body burns with embarrassment as Joel stares at your overworked cunt.

"Stop staring, creep." You let your legs fall shut

Joel grins coyly before flopping onto his back, pulling you down to his chest.

"So...did I do it?" He asks

"Do what? Ruin my sex expectations for the rest of my life? Cuz' I don't think I can go back to my vibrator after that."

Joel chuckles, his fingers drawing circles on your shoulders, "Did I show ya that all those other guys sure as hell ain't worth it?"

You give him a small nod and he squeezes you even closer to his chest before speaking again,

"Good. Cuz' now that I got ya, you ain't goin' nowhere."

More Joel here / Masterlist

If you enjoyed leave me a comment or a reblog! I love getting feedback!

#joel miller #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel the last of us #tlou fanfiction #fanfic #joel tlou #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #pedro pascal #maria miller #joel miller smut #tlou smut #young joel miller #tlou joel #the last of us hbo #tlou fanfic

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rafesbabyg1rl · 7 months ago

Note

Private session part2 is needed!! We all know Barry can be a dick head and he actually considers adding the having sex with a stripper option to customers when y/n finds out about this she obviously mad and saying no but when rafe finds outs about this he’s obviously mad and goes to Barry pissed saying wtf is this he obviously dose not want y/n to have sex with anyone else but him

Private Session - part two

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Summary: Rafe likes to watch reader while she works as a stripper. He asks for a private session in which he'll pay a large amount for her time. Rafe takes her home and uses her however he pleases. When he finds out Barry has been selling you to customers, he gets jealous, insisting that you must not sleep with anyone else.

Pairings: Stripper!Reader X obsessive!Rafe

Warnings: Rafe is obsessive of reader. Reader is a stripper. Mention of drugs (Rafe and Barry do cocaine), bondage (reader is tied up), p in v, unprotected sex, language, SLIGHT degradation, praise, oral (f receiving), fingering. SMUT SMUT SMUT!

Word Count: 4.8k

Author Note: Hey babes! I got this idea from this GIF , like just imagine he's sitting in the strip club throwing dollar bills at you like that. This fic is NOT proofread, it's almost FIVE AM and I have school tomorrow, well, today I guess...UGH. I just got this request and had to write this!! Also thank you all for the support on part one?!?!?! That's INSANE, I love you guys! I wanted to get this out asap for y'all. Sorry if it's actually shit, I'm so tired and also high. If you see any errors please feel free to correct me kindly! Thanks!

I promise I will work on The Watcher; I just got a bit stuck. Thank you guys for reading, I hope you enjoy! I love you all and stay freaky!

Credits: GIF from this post

Some time has passed since your ‘private session’ with Rafe. The first time you’d come back to work after your session with Rafe, Barry had talked to you at the beginning of your shift. Apparently, after seeing how much Rafe paid you for just one hour alone with him, Barry was inspired. He had told you that the club will now be providing a new “service” to well-paying customers. Customers now have the option to have sex with the dancers for the right price. Barry knew better than to sell his girls out for cheap, so the cost is rather high. And there’s typically only two types of men that have both the means and the money for it: the rich, old sugar daddies who probably can’t even get it up on their own and the rich, horny assholes of the island, take Rafe for example.

When Barry had told you this, you were pissed. This was not in your job description; you’re a stripper not a hooker. You wanted to yell at him and quit. The issue is that when you got this job, you had signed a contract with Barry stating that you’d have to work there for at least a year or else you’d have to pay a fee. Knowing Barry, it’s a ridiculously large fee, ensuring that no one quit before their year was up. And it’s likely that the contract he made you sign isn’t even legal. But you're not going to try and find out, knowing that even if it’s not, that doesn’t matter to Barry. He’ll make you pay. And you don’t have that kind of money, that’s why you’re in this position in the first place.

Over the next few weeks, you’ve noticed that Rafe hasn’t been coming in as much. Not while you’re working at least. The few times he has come in, he hasn’t been alone, always coming in with a few other kooks and barely paying any attention to you. Which is definitely not normal for Rafe. You just assume that since he’s had you now, he’s lost his interest. You expected that you’d be relieved when he finally stopped watching you like prey, but now you’re not exactly sure what you feel. Does he not find you attractive anymore? Did he just lose interest after finally getting what it is that he had craved for so long? God, was it just you; did he see who you really are and run in the opposite direction? You knew that whole experience with him was too good to be true.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts as you hear the door to the back room open. Quickly, you grab one of the dresses hanging in your locker and slip it over you; it’s what Barry told you to wear over your lingerie when you do at-home sessions with clients. You turn, watching as your boss and none other than Rafe Cameron stumble in through the door. Rafe goes quiet, his expression going dead as he lays eyes on you.

“Lookin’ good”, Barry whistles. “Where you headed, princess?” He asks as he turns away from you, sitting on a chair. Barry leans back in his seat, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small baggie full of white powder. You’ve always ignored his side business, always pretending you don’t see any of it. Which is what you do right now. Trying your hardest to ignore the fact he’s preparing a line on the small, glass coffee table, you finish up what you’re doing and close your locker a bit harshly.

“I have a client waiting.” You snap. You walk closer to where Barry is sitting and turn your back to him. “Tie me?” You ask, holding your hair up and waiting for him to tie the complex strings of your backless dress. Though he’s currently busy doing a line of cocaine. Without hesitation, Rafe steps closer, his fingers moving to tie your dress. You don’t have to see him to know he’s the one tying your dress. Your skin just immediately remembers his touch, causing chills to run down your spine at the flashbacks of that night. Rafe notices your slight shiver and smirks as he tries to figure out how the straps of your dress go. His hands linger on the skin of your lower back for longer than they need to and your breath hitches each time his skin comes into contact with your own.

When he’s done, he sits on the couch across from Barry, facing you. You turn back to them, not bothering to thank him. To be honest, you’re a bit pissed at him for starting this whole sex with customers thing. You know he didn’t intend to, but he’s the one who gave Barry the idea.

Barry speaks up again as he wipes the excess powder from his nose. “When will you be back, I need you out on the floor.”

I can’t do fucking everything, you think. Although your words come out much more politely. “It’s an at-home appointment so probably an hour.” You’ve had this client before, he typically finishes pretty quick.

You hear Rafe’s loud breathing as he snorts a line which grabs your attention, making you briefly turn your head to look at him. You watch as he leans back, shutting his eyes and inhaling deeply as his high takes over. Rafe slouches in his seat, spreading his legs wide, making you quickly look away. Of course he notices how you’re reacting to him, he always notices everything about you. He crosses his arm and lets out a small sigh.

Rafe’s tone is sharp as he cuts in. “At-home?” He questions, still trying to act as though he doesn’t care about the conversation you and Barry were having.

Barry’s eyes linger on you for a moment, taking in the sight before turning to look at Rafe. “We now offer a new service: you can fuck any of ‘em bitches now.” You make a face at Barry’s words, not liking how he described you and the other girls. Usually he’d never say that in the presence of one of his “bitches”, but Rafe and Barry always brought out the worst in each other; their behavior much worse when they’re together.

“Wait, what?!” He asks, sitting up a bit before calming himself down. He leans back against the couch, trying to seem all nonchalant. “So, they’re hookers?” He questions more calmly as he looks over to you. You recall having to tell him you weren’t a hooker the last time you saw him. You scowl, hating that he’s trying to prove you wrong and rub it in.

“Hookers, bitches, call ‘em whatever you want. I should thank you for giving me the idea. I mean, do you have any idea how much money this is making me.” Barry boasts. “And miss pretty princess over here is our top money maker.” Barry gestures to you as you stand there, waiting for your chance to leave. “She brings in the most customers. Ain’t that right, darlin’?” You nod. Everytime Barry gets high, he doesn’t fucking shut up. Rafe just nods his head dryly, leaning down to snort another line of the white substance from the table.

You take this as your queue to leave and you walk out through the door and back into the main part of the club. You walk through the crowd and search for your client. Leaving Rafe with a few moments to think in silence before Barry starts yapping about all the guys you’ve been fucking. Rafe is fucking furious with this new addition to the club. He had never intended for Barry to take inspiration from his actions, he just needed you. And now anyone else who wants you, can have you. How is it that you could say that you don’t go home with guys often, and turn around and go fuck a bunch of guys for a living right after? Was he just another client to you? Rafe can’t take it anymore and decides to take action. He shoots up from his seat on the couch and storms after you.

As you’re walking, you feel a hand grip your arm and spin you around. You’re almost chest to chest with Rafe as he speaks down to you. “Where the hell are you going?”

“I have a client.” You explain, again.

“The fuck you mean ‘a client’?”

“You’re not the only one who’s willing to pay just to fuck me, Rafe.” You say coldly.

He chuckles, responding sarcastically as he stares down at you with his wide, dilated eyes. “Thought you never went home with random guys?”

“I didn’t. Until you gave Barry the idea of selling me out to strangers for a quick buck.”

Rafe sighs, his grip on your arm loosening. “That’s not what I wanted. I mean c’mon, you think I want other guys fucking you?”

The implication in his words shock you, but you try not to read too much into it. Before you get the chance to respond he lets go of your arm, letting out a deep breath and shaking his head. Without question, he pulls his wallet out from his pocket, flipping it open and looking up at you. “How much is he gonna pay?” You stare at him blankly, confused in what he’s doing. He huffs out a long breath shutting his eyes for a second before bringing one hand up to snap in your face, grabbing your attention. “The guy, your…” his hand waves around in the air, gesturing outwards as he momentarily stutters. “...Client, or whatever. How much was he going to pay you?” He speaks more slowly this time, as if you’re stupid or something.

“Depends.” You answer. The client you’re supposed to be meeting right now didn’t have an exact time planned, but you know how much he typically has the stamina for.

He purses his lips, shifting on his feet. “Ballpark.” He demands. His gaze darted between your eyes, constantly shifting to look at both.

Still confused, you hesitantly respond to his question, stuttering as you speak. “$800.” Immediately, he starts to count the money in his wallet, taking out the eight-hundred and then some. Rafe hands the cash out to you, but you don’t take it right away so he tucks it into the low cut neckline of your dress.

“There, now I take priority.” He takes hold of your arm again and drags you through the club and out into the parking lot. He walks you up to his truck, which you can now recognize. Rafe pulls the passenger door open for you and walks around to his side, climbing in and starting the engine. You know to get in, shutting the door behind you and buckling your seatbelt before looking over at him. Your stomach tightens as his eyes undress you. Rafe finally turns his head away, reaching over his shoulder to grab his seatbelt. Suddenly, it’s like the image registered in his brain and he whipped his head back to you, glaring at your thighs.

You noticed him staring at you, looking down into your lap. The super short dress you were wearing has ridden up, revealing the few hickeys that are spread over your inner thighs. His eyes find the others on your neck as well and he knows he wasn’t the one to leave them. You try to keep your customers from leaving hickeys and other marks in your body, but it’s like the more you tell them not to, the more they want to. It makes Rafe almost sick to his stomach when he thinks about kissing you with those marks; marks left on your skin from other men. He can’t stand it. Suddenly his mind is filled with images of you fucking other guys, he tries to shake out the thoughts but he can’t; they’re eating away at him. The two lines of cocaine from earlier not helping the situation, it only serves to intensify his anger.

As he drives he looks over at you. He starts to rant, his voice booming inside the small tuck cabin. “Bet they can’t make you cum four fuckin’ times in an hour, can they?” You only slightly jump when he startles you with the increasing volume of his voice. “They can’t fuckin’ touch you like I can, huh?” He glances at the road shortly, then he turns his head back to you. “Nobody makes you feel as good as I do, yeah?” He waits for a response.

You catch the hint. “Mhm…yeah.” You nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

When you get to Tanneyhill, Rafe comes to an abrupt stop in his driveway. He wastes no time before getting out of the truck and rounding the front of it to get to your side. Rafe pulls the passenger seat door open, grabbing ahold of your arm again. He tugs you inside, shutting the door behind you two.

As soon as you hear the door shut, his lips are finding yours and attacking them. In the moment, he decides that his bedroom upstairs is too far and he takes you into the kitchen. He continues to kiss you, walking you backwards until your lower hips bump into the counter; in which he grabs your waist and lifts you up to sit on the counter. One of his hands finds its way underneath your dress and between your legs. In quick movements, he tugs your lacy thong down and off of your body. Once they hit the floor, he’s pulling your legs apart; forcing them to spread wide so that you’re exposed and accessible to him. Your pussy grows wet in anticipation of what he’s going to do to you; which is something that none of the other men have been able to make you feel.

Rafe brushes a light hand over your cunt, groaning into your mouth as he discovers how wet you are for him. Not some random guy at the club, but him. He continues to kiss you, swallowing the small moans that try and escape your lips. His hands move to his belt, working on getting it off. Once it’s off, he pulls his jeans down and steps out of them; only breaking the kiss once. The next thing to go in his boxers; he slides them down and lets them pool at his ankles.

With absolutely no warning or further preparation, Rafe slams into you. You choke out a moan, tilting your head back. Rafe starts to kiss the sensitive spot behind your ear just so that your cunt can squeeze around him even tighter as he jackhammers into you. “Fuuck…so tight.” He groans. “Did anyone else fuck you like this, hm? Did anyone else’s cock stretch you out like this?” He growls into your ear. His hand snakes around to the back of your head, gathering all your hair and tugging your head back so that you were looking at him. “That was a fucking question. Fucking answer.” He demands.

“I…”, you cry out as his cock repeatedly hits the extra sensitive spot deep inside you. A spot that nobody else can reach like how he does. “N-no…just you.”

“Just me, what?” He continues, enjoying your struggle to form words as he fucks you at this pace.

“Just you can fuck me like this.” You admit. You’re not even saying it because he wants you to, but because you can honestly say that nobody’s ever fucked you like how he’s fucked you.

“Good girl.” He praises. He runs a hand through your hair and slows his speed to a very slow, careful pace, admiring your features as your face contorts with pleasure. After about a minute, his hand finds your clit, his fingers rubbing harsh circles as his thrusts speed up to an unbearable pace again. He places a hand on your chest, pushing you down so that you’re laying with your back flat on the counter.

The cold counter adds to the intense feeling. He pauses for a moment to pull your shiny, little dress up past your hips to keep it out of the way. When he continues, he’s drilling into you faster than before, giving you the last bit of his anger through his thrusts. Your back begins to arch off the counter, legs wrapping around his waist tightly. And just as you’re about to see stars, Rafe pulls out of you and steps back, pulling his boxers back up from his ankles.

An involuntary whine escapes your lips when his touch leaves you and you sit up on your elbows, trying to figure out why he stopped. Except he doesn’t say anything, he just lifts you up, carrying you upstairs and into his bedroom.

When you get into his room, he sets you down just before the bed. “Shit, I almost forgot.” He mumbles. You furrow your brows and follow his gaze to his bed. On his bed sits a small gift box. You look back at him to find him staring at you. “Open it.” The demands, his tone almost displaying a small trace of excitement.

You look back at the box, taking a few steps closer to the bed. You reach out to flip over the small tag on the box, it reads: ‘To: my favorite hooker’. Your breath hitches. He’s so frustrating with his persistence of using that word, ‘hooker’, when he knows you aren’t one. Well, you didn’t used to be one. But you have to admit, this seems almost…sweet, in a way. Sweet for Rafe anyhow. You fight back your smile as you reach both hands out, carefully lifting the lid off of the box, setting it on the bed. Inside the box lay some very beautiful, intricate lingerie; it’s clearly very expensive, judging on the fact that you can’t even pronounce the brand name.

Rafe explains, “For what I ripped last time. I told you I’d replace it.”

“You did.” You say, getting lost in his eyes for perhaps a moment too long.

“Take it out.” He instructs and you obey, taking the delicate lingerie out of the gift box. Underneath the set, you find another gift. A vibrating wand as well as some thick ribbon. The vibrator you understand, the ribbon…not so much. You hold some of it up, turning to face him as if asking ‘what’s this for?’. Rafe understands what you’re asking and he responds vaguely. “You’ll see.” Clearly he enjoys keeping you on your toes, and you hate it.

After changing into your new lingerie, you exit his bathroom and walk towards his bed. Quickly he has you laying on your back. He takes some ribbon from the box and straddles your waist leaning over you as he ties each of your wrists to a separate bed post. He then did the same with your feet. Now you’re all tied up for him, spread out on the bed and vulnerable.

He leans down, hovering over you. He starts to kiss all over your body, his lips finding any open spot of skin on you. He pauses his kisses for a moment, leaning back up enough to look at you. He tells you, “Don’t wear this at the club.” Rafe leans in, pressing a quick kiss to your chest. “This is for me, yeah?” He mumbles, giving you yet another kiss. “My eyes only.” you nod in response, you agree. This is way too expensive to be wearing to the club.

“Yes, yes, only you.” You desperately plead.

Rafe chuckles and starts to kiss down your body, He makes a momentary stop at your chest, mouthing over one of your nipples through the thin fabric, his fingers rolling your other nipple between his fingers. His actions elicit a loud moan to escape your lips as your body tenses up, struggling against the restraints. You now understand the ribbon. Last time, he had used rope to tie you up and it would painfully dig into your skin. But the ribbon was soft, not causing pain to be inflicted upon you as your body reacts to his actions. His mouth leaves your breast, moving to the other side, ensuring that it wasn’t left out. His hand also switches to pinch at your other nipple.

His mouth starts to travel down your body again as his hand reaches behind him on the bed to grab something. He mouths over your clothed cunt, making you whine and shiver underneath him; still sensitive from when he had teased you earlier on the kitchen counter.

You hear a vibrating sound, but before your brain could register what it is, he’s using the new vibrator he bought for you, on you. He presses it firmly against your clit through the fabric of your panties. Your arms tug at the restraints in response, your legs trying, and failing to close. You feel so vulnerable, so exposed and weak. Lying here helpless as he assaults your small bundle of nerves.

Rafe pulls your panties to the side, revealing your dripping cunt. He pushes the vibrator directly on your clit, sending a jolt of electricity through your body at the sensation. “F-fuck!” You cry, your abdominal muscles contracting as your eyes squeeze shut and your toes curl. Rafe leans in, using his tongue to lap up the juices that drip from your slick entrance as he keeps the vibrator steady on your most sensitive part. “Rafe!” You scream his name out as you cum, finally seeing the stars you were denied earlier, the build-up making it that much more intense.

He pulls the vibrator away, only using his tongue to work you down from your high. When your body starts to relax more, he stops and moves back up your body. He sets the vibrator aside and kisses at your neck, leaving new marks of his own; darker and larger than the others.

You’re still in shock at Rafe’s decision to use a toy on you. You definitely weren’t mad about it, that’s for sure. It’s just that typical guys won’t want to use a vibrator on you because they want to prove they’re better all by themselves. Rafe’s definitely good at sex, that’s just a given fact. But the confidence he has to use a vibrator on you, mixed with his skill…he’s fucking incomparable.

Rafe unties your wrists, letting your arms fall and relax. Next he moves to untie the ribbon that ties your feet to the bed. Once you’re completely free, he gives you a moment, knowing how tiring that was for your body. He knows you need to recover if he wants to get more orgasms from you tonight.

Though you appreciate his generosity, you want to help him out too. So you take him by surprise by placing your hand over his hard cock through his boxers. Except he still manages to be the one surprising you when he speaks. “Fuck…that feels…s’so good baby.” He groans, but moves your hand off his dick. “But let me take care of you, yeah? I know Barry’s got you workin’ a lot, hm? Heard you’ve got the most customers, is that right?” He asks, his hands starting to squeeze and massage at you calves

“Mhm…” you agree, closing your eyes in relaxation.

Rafe’s hands move to massage your feet, knowing the tall heels you’re always wearing have to be causing you some discomfort. And he knows he assumed correctly when you let out a deep sigh at his touch. “Nobody ever takes care of you, hm? Always just taking what they want and giving you nothing?” He leans in closer to your ear and whispers, “I like taking care of you.” Rafe starts to nip softly at your ear, making you moan softly.

After a while, his hands leave your feet, moving back up your body. He gently pulls off the lingerie, setting it on the bed beside you two. He takes a moment to revel in the sight of you, taking in what he is lucky enough to have in front of him. One of his hands finds its way to your slimy folds, gently running over your entrance. He gathers some of your slick and brings it up to your clit as he begins to rub it in steady, slow circles.

Finally, he pulls his boxers off. He uses his other hand to hold himself at the base, gently stroking himself a few times as he looks down at you underneath him. Without much more preparation, he pushes himself inside of you. This time, he moves slowly. His mind isn;t clouded from the effects of cocaine and anger anymore, instead he just wants to help you feel good. He wants to take him time, even though you’re likely not going to last long after your previous orgasm.

“Shit, so fuckin’ wet f’me. You’re always so wet for me, hm? Such a good girl. Such a good fuckin’ girl.” He groans, his mouth right next to your ear so you can clearly hear all his praises. “M’gonna have to talk to Barry for you. Can’t have you fuckin’ those other guys anymore. This pussy’s for me; it’s mine.” His speed gets faster, his pace more erratic as you get closer, your cunt squeezing around him tighter; ultimately bringing him closer to finishing as well. “Hm? You hear me?”

“Mhm…” you nod eagerly, getting so close to cumming that you can barely form a complete thought. “Y-yes Rafe. Yours, fuck! Yours.”

He gathers all your hair, tugging on it so that your neck cocks back, giving him full access to mark it up. He leaves wet, sloppy kisses all over your neck; sucking and biting at your skin. “Only a slut for me, right? Nobody else, not anymore.”

“Yes…sure, fuck, okay yeah!” You scream. The recognizable feeling of your stomach tightening just for the band to snap, making your back arch off the bed, pushing your body against his as you reach another orgasm. “Ohh…nngghh…f-fucking shit!” You curse, your hand clawing at his shirt, trying to take it off. Rafe understands what you need and does it for you.

It’s not long before he gets to his peak with the way you keep squeezing him; so wet that he just slips right in and out. But before he cums, he asks you a final question. “Can I?”,is all he says but it’s enough for you to know what it is that he’s asking. He’s already done it before, so you don’t see the problem, especially not right now. You don’t even have it in you to say no even if it was what you wanted,

“Mhm…please. Please cum inside me, Rafe. I-I need it.” You admit.

Without wasting another second, Rafe’s movements slow down as he releases his load in you; painting your walls white with his cum. You could feel his warm seed spilling out of you, mixing with your sticky juices. When he pulls out, you feel empty. Your lonely cunt left clenching around nothing.

Rafe lies down beside you, wrapping his arms around you. You never had taken Rafe for much of a cuddler, but he’s full of surprises tonight. You return the action, wrapping your arms around him and draping a leg over him.

After you’ve both had time to recover, you still just lie there, enjoying each other's silent company. But you finally decide to break the silence between you two. “Y’know, I have to admit that it is kinda nice to be with someone who can get it up without taking pills.” You joke truthfully, referring to all the old sugar daddies that pay for your services.

Rafe chuckles at your words. He wants to say ‘I told you so’, to prove that he knew nobody else made you feel the same as he did, but fights the urge. Instead he just laughs. “Oh, I bet.”

“Did…did you mean what you said about talking to Barry?” You ask on a more serious note.

Rafe looks at you, admiring your soft, tired, fucked-out expression as he runs a gentle hand through your hair. “Oh yeah, yeah. I can talk to him if you want. He usually listens to me.”

“And if he doesn’t?” You ask.

“Then I’ll make him.” He reassures you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I started this, I’m gonna fix it, okay? So don’t worry. You ain’t gotta fuck nobody you don’t wanna no more, yeah? How’s that sound?”

“Thank you.” You mumble to him, your eyes starting to get heavy and droop shut.

“I hope that means you’ll still fuck me.” He teases, petting your soft hair as he watches you.

You just nod, too exhausted to engage in his jokes. Rafe just smiles softly, appreciating the fact that he has you all sleepy in his bed; his arms. Of all the time he spent watching you and admiring you at the club, he never was able to imagine this moment.

He presses one final kiss to your head before closing his own eyes, pulling you in tighter. “I’ll take you back tomorrow, that alright?”

“Mhm…” You mumble under your breath, already half asleep.

“Goodnight.” He whispers, pulling the covers over the two of you.

Thank you for reading! I greatly appreciate it! PLEASE feel free to leave Rafe x reader requests!! I LOVE getting them!

Again, sorry if this is bad. I'm so tired and too lazy/impatient to proofread/edit. I hope this is good enough to fulfill your request!

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spookyscarydemonbabe · 4 months ago

Text

Lesson Learned

A/N- I wanted to do a little bit of a different take on his character, so i apologize if he seems a little ooc. He’s aged up in this story to being in his mid-20’s, i saw @cannibalvampir3’s drawing of him and i just… i need him biblically, he’s such a fucking loser 🙃 also, im a bit rusty when it comes to writing smut (like it’s been well over a year since i’ve written a full smut fic ESPECIALLY one of this length) so please give me some grace if it’s not absolutely amazing 🖤 this was the product on nonstop writing over the course of about 3 weeks so i hope you enjoy 💋

Summary- Once a week you’d come over to the Dickey residence to tutor Jane, and it would normally pass by without any interruptions. Unless her sad excuse of a brother decided to make an appearance. You try so hard to ignore him, but after an incident with a lost wallet you can’t help but want to make sure he knows where his place is. Although you haven’t decided if it’s beneath you, or on top of you.

Genre- Smut, 18+ content below the cut so minors be warned

Warnings- Reader has female anatomy, no use of (y/n), Bill has been aged up to his mid-20’s, mentions of drug use (marijuana), mentions masturbation (m + f), hair pulling, consent checks, tongue kissing, breast play, nipple sucking, panty sniffing, oral sex (m + f), handjob, p in v sex, missionary, loss of virginity (m), starts as hatefucking but turns into passionate lovemaking

Tag List- No tag list yet! Let me know if you’d like to be added 💋

Word Count- 14.3k

You looked up at that same beige front door you had to walk through every week, and sighed. Long. Your fingers moved up to massage your temples, just hoping that you wouldn’t leave with another migraine. Maybe this time he’d keep himself confined to the basement.

It had only been a few weeks since you’d started tutoring Jane for her English classes, and she was an excellent tutee. She was picking up on things so much easier whenever you explained them to her, her grades were improving drastically, and she had even gained more confidence with her own creative writing in her free time. The few short stories she had shown you were incredible for a high school sophomore. She was interesting and kind, someone so unique with her interests and she had quite the knack for making elaborate twists in her short stories. She was a very bright girl who you knew would strive for greatness.

It was her foul excuse of a brother that made you want to tear your hair out after every single session. You had no idea how someone as old as him managed to still be stuck in such a childish mindset.

Every time you came over he managed to get under your skin. You so badly wanted to snap at him, make him feel like the scum he is.

Every time he sauntered into the kitchen during your tutoring sessions in his dirty pajama pants, reeking of weed, sweat and no doubt whatever dried remains of himself he was too lazy to clean off. Every time you could sense his eyes on you whenever he wandered back and forth from his bedroom to the basement because he just so happened to remember he needed to reorganize his comics at that specific time. Every time you walked past his bedroom or the basement door and could overhear the overacted moans and groans coming from the girls on his computer screen, and eventually hearing one final whine of bliss from him. It happened so often, he had to have known you were there listening, you were so certain of it.

It was so infuriating.

Especially when you drove home after a long day of school and work, just ready to relax and indulge yourself in a little me time. Horror movie, a pint of Ben & Jerry’s, maybe an edible and of course a bit of stress relief…

Those seven inches of silicone in your bedside drawer felt so much more realistic when using your imagination. And every fucking time, whether you liked it or not, he’d be there in the back of your mind.

Christian Bale, the cute guy that works at the car wash, Bill. Heath Ledger, the hot librarian that smiles whenever you make a return, BILL. Brad Pitt, that one substitute teacher from senior year, BILL. Hayden Christensen, the guy from the mall food court that always gave you his discount, BILL. He was like a parasite that you couldn’t find the remedy for.

And fuck him for making you curious about the real thing whenever you saw him.

Whether you wanted it to happen or not, those thoughts arose from every little thing when he was around. Thinking about all those times you pictured your legs wrapped around his waist, his face contorted with pure bliss, his glasses nearly falling off from how fast he’s pounding into you. It’s like torture whenever he wanders into the kitchen and you can see the faintest bit of his torso and the trail of hair that moves from his bellybutton down to the waistband of whatever sweats he’s been wearing for who knows how long when he reaches to get a glass from the cupboard.

You clenched your eyes shut, shaking your head, trying to get whatever remnants of those thoughts out of the back of your mind. It wasn’t going to happen today.

You were so sure of that.

With one last deep breath, you reached over and grabbed your backpack from the passenger seat, pulling your keys from the ignition and putting them into the side pocket. You shut the car door and as you looked back up the driveway, it felt like you were being watched. You knew it was him, glaring at you from behind the dark throw blankets he used as makeshift curtains on the basement windows. Not even a full thirty seconds out of the car, and that pit of anger in your stomach started to bubble. He was terrible at trying to be secretive.

The back of your knuckles rapped gently on the front door, and a smile spread on your lips as Jane opened the door for you.

“Hey!” She said with a smile, stepping aside to let you in.

“Hey, how’s class been?” You asked as you stepped inside, walking into the dining room and setting your bag down onto one of the extra empty wooden chairs.

“Really good, actually! I got a 75% on that test I was telling you about, but I got a 90% on a surprise writing prompt.”

“That’s awesome! Did you get the test back? Maybe we can go over some of the things you missed?”

“Yeah, let me find it.”

Jane sat next to you at the table, pulling out the folder and a few notebooks she used for English class. As she was looking for her test you took it upon yourself to take out a notebook and a few various colored pens.

“So what did you write about for that prompt?” You asked as you were organizing your things on the table.

“Our teacher told us we could write anything, as long as it went along with one of the examples he gave us. I chose ‘Life or Death’, and I wrote about this guy whose wife died but he keeps going on as if she’s still there with him.”

“That sounds really cool! What was the twist you added? I know you can’t write a story without a good twist.”

“Yeah, I had him end up being her killer and he kept acting like she was there out of regret.”

“Wow, that’s a little dark, but I’d read it!”

Your friendly banter was interrupted by a snort coming from the other room. Of course he’d be there listening.

Bill had snuck his way into the kitchen, rifling through the pantry for what you could only assume was his second bag of chips for the day, and you could see the grin on his lips as soon as you turned to look at him.

“Yeah, so dark.” He said sarcastically to himself, rolling his eyes and trying to stifle a laugh.

“Shut up and get back to the basement, creep!” Jane shouted at him.

Bill made sure to take his time, looking back over to you and giving you a wink and a smirk before retreating back into the basement with the bag of chips in hand. You shot him a dirty look and quickly went back to trying to focus on Janes work instead of him.

“Sorry, you know how he gets.” Jane apologized, pulling her test out for you to look over as you made sure to listen for the basement door closing.

“It’s alright. Sorry you’ve got to live with him, seeing him once a week is all I can take…”

“I’m pretty used to it by now.” Jane shrugged, “Just ignore him, like always. I found that test.”

“Right! Let’s take a look…” Your eyes scanned the paper, looking over the few questions with the red marks next to them, “It looks like you’re really only having an issue with figurative language. I was the same way, I really only remembered similes and metaphors, but the other ones took a bit.”

“I’ve been trying to work on memorizing them, but for some reason they’re just not sticking…”

“That’s ok! That’s what I’m here for,” You opened up one of your notebooks and grabbed a pencil, “grab your notes from class, let’s look over it really quick.”

The next hour that followed went by without any interruptions, surprisingly. Jane was able to memorize everything for her next quiz, and she even let you read the short story from class to get some constructive criticism. She really had talent. Bill managed to keep himself quiet, for the most part. Save for a few times you heard him screaming at whatever video game he was playing on his monitor down in the basement.

“Let me know how that quiz goes next week.” You said to Jane as you finished placing the last of your notebooks into your backpack.

“I will! I’ll go over those notes again on my break at work today, I think the last of my homework shouldn’t take long after.” Jane stuck her notebook under her arm as you made your way to the front door, Jane grabbing her keys from the little bowl on the counter, you taking yours out from the side pocket.

“I’ll see you next week.” Jane said as she jogged over to her car parked on the street.

“Bye Jane! I hope work goes by fast.” You laughed, unlocking your car door.

“Thanks, me too.” She smiled, giving you one last wave before stepping into her car and heading off to work. It was so bizarre, seeing how well put together she was, and then to have an older brother that was so dull, so negligent to any kind of responsibility offered to him. You were grateful you only had to deal with him once today.

You couldn’t handle having those obscene, pornographic thoughts wriggle their way back into your mind.

At least it was over until next week, and you had the rest of the night to yourself. A movie sounded nice right about now, and maybe a few extra snacks were needed just in case the munchies hit again. As far as you remembered, there was still one last half of the joint your roommate gave you, and you didn’t want it to go to waste.

You reached over into your backpack and rummaged through the front pocket for your wallet, the same place it always went, and yet you couldn’t feel the faux leather against your fingers. Strange. The only other place it could’ve been in was the main pocket, but even then it was nowhere to be found.

“Come on…” You whispered to yourself as you tore through the bag, pulling every last notebook and pencil out to look for it, even going as far as adjusting your seats again to see if maybe it slipped through a crack somewhere, and still, nothing. You looked back up to that beige door and breathed slow, knowing that the only other place it could be was inside.

With him.

“God fucking dammit…” You said through gritted teeth, quickly opening the car door and slamming it shut as you made your way back up the steps. All that was on your mind was how quickly you wanted this to be over with.

Being around him with Jane wasn’t anything out of the norm, but you had never been alone with him.

Why would anyone want to be alone with him?

You sighed once more and knocked on the door, crossing your arms and waiting for a moment before it opened, Bill standing there with a cocky smirk on his face, his bloodshot eyes moving up and down over you, “Miss me?” He asked with his arms crossed, leaning on the doorframe.

You weren’t going to bother entertaining him with a response to that.

“I can’t find my wallet, can I look and see if it fell out of my bag in your dining room?”

He said nothing, but moved aside for you to step in.

You could smell the weed on him already, but shockingly that was the only thing you caught on him. Usually there would be undertones of sweat or him trying to mask the fact that he hadn’t showered in days by marinating himself in whatever body spray he found on the dresser, but his natural musk wasn’t all bad. It was odd, but not unwanted. He was in need of a shower anyways, it was certainly a rare occasion for him according to Jane.

You stepped around him, heading straight into the dining room and checking beneath the chair your bag was on. You waltzed around the table slowly, looking all over the rug beneath the table for it, but you couldn’t find anything resembling the black leather wallet. As you got onto your knees to check if it had fallen underneath the table, you sensed his hazel eyes on you once more, and glanced over to see him in the same stance he was in at the door.

His arms crossed, leaning on the wall, a shit eating grin on his lips and his eyes glued onto your ass as you stayed bent over in front of him. That pool of anger in your stomach started to boil.

“You know, you could help?” You glared up at him, annoyed.

“I could.” Bill shrugged, reaching his hand up to scratch at the patchy facial hair he had refused to keep up with, “I like the view better though.”

“You’re a pig.” You scowled at him, getting up from your position on the floor, “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” He scoffed, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh please,” You rolled your eyes, arms crossed over your chest as you stood before him, “you know exactly what I’m talking about. I’m here once a week, you’ve never bothered trying to have any kind of conversation with me, but somehow you manage to always find a way to piss me off.”

Bill smirked, looking down at the floor to try and stifle his laugh.

“Is this funny to you?” Your words were dripping with aggravation, and you knew that you should quit before it’s too late. He didn’t deserve your time. “Whatever, I don’t need your help…” You turned back to the table with another eye roll. Just feeling his presence there behind you was enough to make you snap, but god forbid you really did lose your wallet there. There’s no fucking way you’d give him access to your address, let alone your money with his bullshit spending habits.

“…Fucking loser.” You said under your breath. You just couldn’t help yourself.

Bills smirk dropped as soon as he heard you.

“What did you just say?”

The adrenaline pumped in your chest as soon as you gleaned from his tone that those two simple words got him so pissed he couldn’t end this without getting the last word. You wouldn’t let him get that satisfaction.

“Well if you heard me, then you heard that I didn’t stutter.” You turned back to face him, taking a step closer, “I said. You’re a FUCKING loser.”

How dare you challenge him like this. Girls don’t talk to Bill, let alone challenge his masculinity by telling him what he knew he really was. And it pissed him off even more when hearing those venomous words leave your lips it made the blood rush to his groin.

He took a step closer to you, trying his hardest not to show you that you were getting to him, but he was making it so obvious it was hard to not want to fuck with him.

“Fuck you.”

“That’s it?” You scoffed, not even trying to hold back your laughter, “You’re not even denying it, you know you’re a loser too, don’t you?”

He was seething, his face red, fists clenched as he kept them crossed tightly across his chest, and having to hold back from getting hard right then and there only made it so much worse.

Bill had only been challenged by the guys before, and that was one of the only major constants he knew he could handle. What he couldn’t handle, was change. He couldn’t handle the fact that he knew you were right and somehow he knew he deserved it. There was something in the way you said it that just clicked. It was true, you were right, and the fact that you looked so good doing it made him want you to tell him again.

“I’m not a loser.”

“Sure you are.” You took another step forward, peering into his eyes through his dirty frames, “And everyone knows it.”

Bill exhaled hard through his nose, quickly uncrossing his arms and reaching into the pocket of the oversized zip up he had slumped over his shoulders, pulling out your wallet.

“You want your fucking wallet?” He took a step back and threw it into the living room, “Go get it then, bitch. And then get the fuck out of my house.”

“I knew you had it you fucking asshole!”

You shoved him hard against the wall after it, though you didn’t expect it to bounce so far, and you certainly didn’t expect it to fall down the basement stairs. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me…” As you stopped to go down the stairs after it, you were appalled by the absolute mess of the place.

Dirty clothes all across the floor, empty soda and energy drink cans scattered over the various shelves and desks, garbage can overflowing with an excessive amount of tissues, the pullout bed on the couch looked to be the cleanest thing and even that was a mess. Thankfully it looked to only be covered with various comics and video game controllers, but the floor around it was covered in various tapes and their cardboard sleeves and wires from the game systems all set out in front of the TV.

As your eyes scanned the floor, you couldn’t spot the small leather square amidst the clutter. It was so close to being over, but now he was making this so much more infuriating than you anticipated, and right now all you wanted was for it to be over with.

You stomped back over to Bill, who was still rubbing his arm from when he hit the wall, and reached your hand up into his greasy russet locks and grabbed a fistful, yanking him over to the basement door.

“What the fuck?! Let go of me, crazy bitch!” Bill fought to get free from your hand, though it didn’t feel like he was fighting all that hard. He had at least a few inches on you, and yet he seemed so small when you pushed him around.

“Now you’re going to help me fucking look for it, asshole!” You nearly threw him down the stairs as you let go of his hair, wiping your hand on your shirt to get rid of the oily residue.

“Cunt…” Bill said under his breath, rubbing the back of his head as he looked over the ground, kicking away the trash and clothes scattering the floor.

“Shut up and look for it.” You groaned, taking the last steps down into the basement, not being able to help looking all over the walls at the various stacks of comics and tapes, along with the different pieces of horror and fantasy memorabilia, “Christ, is your room like this too? Don’t you ever clean up after yourself?”

“Well it’s my basement, so I can do whatever I want with it.” He replied, not even bothering to look up from the floor as he kept kicking around the junk in his way.

“Oh please, you’re lucky your mom hasn’t kicked you out yet with you leaving all this junk down here.”

“It’s not junk!” Bill yelled, finally turning around to look at you. You didn’t even flinch when he took a step forward, your arms crossed over your chest.

“What would you call it then? You don’t even take care of this stuff, those shelves are covered in dust and your comics and tapes are thrown all over the place, I thought nerds like you worshipped that shit?”

“Stop calling me shit like that…”

“Well, if you tried a little harder to be normal, I wouldn’t have to call you shit like that.”

“Fuck you!” Bill stepped forward again, trying so hard to intimidate you, but even he knew he had no idea what he was doing, “You don’t know me.”

“Oh, I know more about you thank you think I do. Bill Dickey, the 20-something loser that still lives with his mommy, spending all her money on your bullshit toys because you still can’t get a job, doing nothing but smoking weed and watching porn because christ knows you’ve never gotten close to getting your dick wet… I bet you haven’t even kissed a girl yet, and you’re how old?”

“Shut the fuck up!” He yelled, his face only inches away from yours as you scowled at one another.

He hated you so fucking much, and the fact that he knew everything you said was true only made the fire inside him burn brighter. You were right. He was a loser, he still lived with his mother, no job, never had a girlfriend, let alone have a girl be alone with him for as long as you have. He was done letting you push him around, or at least he thought he was.

“Make me, nerd.”

That was it. The one final twig thrown onto the fire that made him explode with rage, and you were the one unlucky recipient that got caught in the flames. He didn’t know what came over him then, he wanted to reach his hand out and slap you for daring to speak to him that way, but with one swift motion he grabbed your collar and pulled you close, closing the space between you as he pushed his lips onto yours.

You let out a surprised yelp as he yanked you towards him, and as his lips crashed into yours you had come to the very sudden realization that it wasn’t as repulsive as you expected it to be. His lips were dry, and he tasted of chapstick and a bit of citrus from whatever energy drink he happened to chug while he was down in the basement. But still, somehow the feeling of having him so close, your lips pressed together in a heated moment of hatred, just felt so right.

It was so strange.

With the sudden realization of your surroundings, your hand reached back up into his greasy hair and yanked him back again, tearing his lips away from yours, “What the fuck?!”

“What? You said ‘make me’ so I did,” He said so matter of factly with a smirk on his face, “and you didn’t hate it either. If you didn’t want it, you wouldn’t have let me.”

He was right. You did let him.

You let him kiss you, and god help you, but you liked it.

And fuck him for making you want that aching feeling back between your thighs.

“I’ll fucking kill you…” You pushed him back hard enough for him to almost trip over the dirty clothes on the basement floor, but all he could do was laugh as you stepped closer to push him again, “Who the fuck do you think you are?!”

“I know exactly who I am, and you know too.” Even with you fuming before him, ready to clench your fist and punch him right where he deserved it, he still couldn’t help himself from being the asshole he was, “I’m the pathetic loser that everyone hates, and you just let me kiss you. And you liked it. Who’s pathetic now?”

Everything he said was true. He was pathetic, he was disgusting, he was a foul excuse of a human being, and there was some little part of you that wanted him so badly you couldn’t hide it even when you wanted to.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“You know what? No.” Bill stood tall over you, stepping forward from where you pushed him back to lean over you with a smirk on his lips, “How about you make me shut up, bitch?”

With one final shove, Bills legs gave in as they hit the end of the pullout bed, falling back against it and propping himself up on his elbows.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” You stood over him, hands on your hips, “Don’t think you’ve got something to hold over me just because i let you kiss me,” Another step closer and you would be in his lap, “I saw how hard you were trying to keep yourself from letting all the blood rush to your dick upstairs, you like being called a loser, and you know it.” The waves of emotion were starting to consume you. The tension was only making it more fun. “So I guess we’re both pretty pathetic…”

You climbed over him, your knees gently sinking into the cheap mattress as your hands quickly grasped his cheeks, pulling his lips back into yours. And this time he reciprocated.

You could tell that this was all so foreign to him, especially when you felt him start to harden in his sweatpants as you pushed your body into his. But he’d never admit that this was all new to him. Why stop a good thing?

As his arms gave in, he laid himself back onto the mattress, a gentle groan leaving his lips as his hands moved to hold onto your hips. The aggression you were holding inside for so long was finally able to be released, and without thinking your hips ground into him, smiling against his lips as you heard him try so hard to stifle the moan stuck in his throat.

He was right where you wanted him.

You pulled back ever so slightly, and you couldn’t help but giggle watching the way he leaned his head to keep your lips on his just a little longer. It took a moment to catch your breath after the intensity of your lips attacking one another, and all you could do was stare at him.

“What now?” Bill asked you.

You both knew exactly what you wanted, you couldn’t deny your bodies’ natural animalistic instincts, but to be giving into those feelings with each other is what got you so caught up. You didn’t like him, but you didn’t hate him either. And though he wanted to hate you still, something deep down inside was telling him that he couldn’t. Not like this.

“I don’t know…” You shrugged, one hand still gently cupping his cheek, “We could… Have you?…” The words were so clear in your brain but there was some kind of disconnect when it came to saying them. You knew he was a virgin, everything about him told you that, but were you really about to fuck him just to get it over with? Just to satisfy that itch that so many other boys in the past couldn’t scratch?

Bills eyes looked away from you, and as he shook his head you could see a mixture of anger and fear on his face.

You both knew you wanted it, and you wanted it bad, but there was that lingering feeling of hatred for one another still in the air mixed with the heavy air of lust and want for each other. You didn’t know if you hated each other, or if you hated yourselves for wanting each other.

“It’s up to you, I guess…” His eyes found yours once more, “But if we do, don’t think it means I like you.”

“And don’t think me doing this for you means I like you.” As you kept your position, straddled in his lap, you kicked your shoes off onto the floor, “Look. I’ll do you this one favor, but you have to do something for me too. I’m not just going to let you fuck me and not get anything in return.”

You felt him twitch between your legs, and the friction of the fabric between you wasn’t making it any better.

“Fine, like what?” He groaned.

“I’ll let you know when it’s over.” With one swift motion you quickly turned over onto your back, laid out on the dirty mattress, pushing aside the few comic books and tape sleeves still mixed up over the blanket and pulling Bill on top of you.

He sat up on his knees and looked down, smiling at the state you were in. Eyes glazed over with lust, cheeks tinted pink, and looking at you laid beneath him was a sight he never thought he’d see.

“Fuck it.” Bill growled, nearly tearing the oversized zip up off of his arms, throwing it onto the floor to be lost with the other various clothing items he couldn’t be bothered to wash.

He leaned himself back down over you, elbows next to your head as he pushed his lips back onto yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck, keeping him held close as if he was going to tear himself away from you at any second.

As new as he was to it, Bill wasn’t a bad kisser. A little messy, and he certainly didn’t know when to stop himself, but he had wanted this for so long you were certain he was just happy to finally get these firsts done. For a twenty-something year old virgin, he was a good kisser. And you wanted more.

With each slow movement of your lips, you inched the tip of your tongue closer and closer to moving with them, and you could sense him tense as soon as he felt it against his lips. But he wasn’t going to deny you what you wanted.

He tried to mimic your movements, slowly bringing his tongue closer and closer to touching yours. He was an asshole, but you weren’t going to make him go past his comfort level. You waited and waited for that green light to push just a little bit further, and as soon as you felt the soft flesh against your lips you gave him access.

It was so much less aggressive than you were expecting. More curious than anything, like he was nervous to make any wrong moves. Your hands slowly reached up between your bodies, your fingertips gently caressing his neck before holding the back of it, gently moving through his hair and pulling him closer into you. The moment he picked up on your signal he took advantage of it, pushing his tongue past your lips and tangling it with yours.

You gently tugged at Bills hair, although this seemed to only encourage him further, twisting his tongue faster until you had to pull him away from you to catch your breath, the taste of him still lingering.

“I need to fucking breathe, dumbass…” You said in between breaths, your chests heaving. As your eyes opened you smiled seeing you were still connected by a thin strand of saliva on your lips.

“Don’t make a mess of yourself yet.” You moved a hand down from his neck and wiped at his bottom lip before carefully leaning yourself up onto your elbows. Bill moved with you, wanting to give you the space you needed, and sat up onto his knees. “Help me.” You ordered him, reaching your hands down to the hem of your shirt and pulling it off of your body, tossing it onto the floor.

All he could do was stare at your still bra-covered chest.

He’d stared at naked girls on a computer screen hundreds of times before, he’d destroyed countless issues of Playboy and even a few Heavy Metal comics, but finally seeing the real thing was a sight so intoxicating he didn’t know what to do with himself.

“Bill!” Your shout took him out of his trance, “Help.”

“Uh…” His eyes scanned your body, eyes fixated on your breasts, trying his hardest to hold a complete thought together, “Help with what?”

“Getting this off.” You moved to sit on top of your legs, inching your body closer to him, your arms reaching out and gently resting on his sides. You pressed your body into his, pulling away your hair to give him a clear view of the little clasp on your bra. As he reached his arms around you, leaning his head over your shoulder to make sure he was doing it right, you could feel his hands shaking as he tugged at the clasp.

“God dammit…” He whispered angrily under his breath as he struggled to get it undone, “How do you get this fucking thing off?”

“Calm down,” You groaned, leaning your head up to kiss his jaw, your hands carefully moving beneath the hem of his shirt and slowly tracing your fingers along his bare torso. You could feel that his warm body wasn’t used to the foreign touch, “You’re a grown man, you can figure it out.”

Bill groaned and kept whispering to himself, aggravated by the little metal clasp that for some reason he just couldn’t figure out. As much as he didn’t want to, he listened to you, taking a deep breath and moving slowly, and to his surprise the clasps came undone without another issue. You felt your bra loosen around your shoulders and leaned back to pull it away from your body, letting the straps fall down your arms and tossing it away. And Bill couldn’t help but stare again. His arms fell to his sides as his eyes were locked onto your naked breasts, and you could tell when you looked at his face that this was something he had always dreamed of, but now that a half naked girl really was right before him he had no idea what he was doing.

You couldn’t help but smile at his state,

“You know, you’re allowed to touch me?” You said with a snicker.

As if he was waiting for your approval, his hands finally reached up and gently grasped onto the soft skin of your breasts, a quiet breathy moan left his lips, “Oh my god…” He whispered to himself, eyes wide as he gently massaged and kneaded the soft skin. You couldn’t help but smile up at him, so entranced already and all you had to do was take your shirt off.

Your hands grasped the hem of his shirt, tugging it up over his tummy to pull it away,

“Your turn.”

Without a second thought, Bill sat up and pulled at the loose t-shirt on his body, almost ripping at it as he threw it across the room, fixing his glasses after getting caught on the collar. You laid back, taking a slow breath as he towered above you, letting out a surprised gasp as his hands found their way back onto your body. Gently kneading the soft skin of your breasts, and as you looked up to his face you could see he was nearly drooling at the sight beneath him.

His hands moved to the side of your chest as he lowered himself onto you, moaning at the first bit of skin to skin contact he’d ever experienced. He couldn’t help himself from needing to know just how soft you felt beneath his touch. His hands quickly moved back to your chest and he carefully moved himself down your body, his face slowly lowering into the valley between your breasts, gently kissing the areas his lips could reach as he couldn’t stop himself from grinding his hips into you. You could sense his smile against your skin and you slowly lowered one hand into his hair, gently playing with the few strands at the base of his neck as the other one draped onto his back, your fingers tracing little patterns onto his shoulders.

You could hear him whispering to himself and softly giggled as he pushed his face further into your chest,

“So soft…” Bill whispered before slowly lifting his head from the space between your breasts, his eyes peeking up over his frames to see your face as he licked his lips, watching you gasp and lean your head back as they wrapped around a nipple and pulled ever so slightly. His tongue swirled around the sensitive bud before pulling his lips off with a silent pop. Watching your face contort was only encouraging him further to get those intoxicating moans to leave your lips.

As he listened intently for the littlest sound from you, the corners of his lips turned as you took a deep breath and whispered a quiet, “Fuck…” to yourself. Your fingers gently tugging his hair were enough to make him dive in again, his lips leaning down to the other breast, kissing your hardened nipple before taking it between his lips and pulling, releasing it as you let out a breathy moan.

“You’re really good at that.” You complimented him as you tried to slow your breathing back down.

As he leaned down to kiss the other nipple, he looked back up at you, smiling,

“I’ve watched enough porn to learn a few things…”

“Gross,” You giggled, “that’s not something to be proud of, pervert.”

“Yeah?” Bill raised himself up onto his arms, his face hovering over yours, “Well you seem to like it…” He whispered, his lips softly pressing to yours just once.

You smiled up at him, your arms moving to hold the back of his head and move your fingers through his hair. Every word that came out of his mouth was repulsive, but with no prior experience he really knew how to use your body against you. And it only made you curious to see what else he could do to you.

“Have you learned anything else?” Your hands moved to his shoulders, gently pushing him further down your body as you sat yourself up. You carefully moved your body down to the edge of the bed, Bill moving himself down to kneel before you, his face turning redder by the second as his eyes stayed glued onto your face. His hands slowly reached up to rest on the outside of your jean-clad thighs, slowly moving them up and down.

“Like what?”

You shrugged, inching yourself closer and closer to the edge of the bed, your legs wide open as Bill sat between them,

“Maybe you can help me out of these and show me~” You smiled coyly, fingers reaching to the button and zip on your jeans, standing before him as his hands reached up, fingers looped in the belt loops as he tugged the hem down your thighs.

The sight of you in your little cotton panties was enough for him to make a mess of himself, and as you stepped out of your jeans he threw them across the floor and eagerly moved his hands to the hem of your panties before you quickly stopped him.

“Wait!” You head his hands gently as they rested on your hips and sat back down, legs open wide for him to settle his body between them, “Beg.”

Bills eyebrows furrowed in confusion,

“What?”

“Beg.” You ordered, leaning forward to get your face closer to his, teasing him with the thought that if you got close enough he could reach your lips again, “Tell me what you want.”

“No, I’m not begging you.”

“Fine,” You shrugged, getting yourself ready to stand and find your jeans among the mess, “if you don’t want it then-“

“No!” Bill shouted, holding your hips and guiding you back to sit on the edge of the bed, “No, no, I want it…”

“Ok then, tell me.”

Bill fought with himself for a moment. He wanted you, and he wanted you bad.

Everything in his heart was telling him that he couldn’t let you see him like this, watching him beg and writhe for you on the floor, but there was that little part of him that was so willing to do anything and everything you asked. He couldn’t take it.

“I… I want…” He never expected this from himself. He never expected himself to be so close so such a beautiful woman, her body almost fully exposed to him for his eyes and hands to wander over as he pleased. It was humiliating, but so endearing, “I want to eat you out… Please?”

You raised your eyebrows at how badly Bill sounded like he needed you, a smirk came to your lips as you leaned down and gave him just one quick kiss.

“Thank you. And thank you for saying ‘please’, I didn’t expect you to want it that badly…”

“Well, you said ‘beg’…”

You laid back onto your elbows, letting Bill move his fingers back through the sides of your cotton panties, slowly pulling them down your hips. He stopped himself just before letting them fall down your thighs and eagerly anticipated the exposure of your womanhood. He wanted to be able to enjoy himself.

You watched his face closely, and as he pulled off that last little bit of fabric you saw his eyes go wide. His chest was heaving, cheeks bright pink, and his lip quivering just as he slowly dragged your panties down to your ankles. You stepped out of them and opened your legs back up to give him access. All he could do was stare at your body, laid out before him for him to use as he pleased, but all he wanted was to make sure he was doing a good job.

“Fuck…” Bill growled, his teeth clenched, and he couldn’t help but go back to his perverse ways, grabbing damp fabric off of the floor and bringing it to his face, deeply inhaling your scent. Bill groaned, his eyes clenched shut as he breathed you in, and just seeing how drunk with lust he was getting from you only made it seem so much more than what it really was.

You may have hated each other before, but all sane thoughts had left your mind just seeing how drunk Bill was with lust. For a virgin, he really did know all the things that made you dripping wet.

And Bill could see that too.

He smiled to himself as he saw the littlest bit of light gleaming in from a crack in the throw blanket over the window and watched the way your pussy glistened for him. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it and he let your panties drop from between his fingers onto the floor, his hands moving to hold the outside of your thighs, slowly caressing the soft skin beneath his fingertips,

“Oh my god…” He said between heavy breaths, inching closer and closer to your core, so fearful and yet so exhilarated to finally taste the sweet fruits of his labor.

He was the reason you were this wet, he was the reason you were aching for some kind of contact to bring you further to the edge, he was the reason you were writhing with pleasure after every touch.

“Bill?” His eyes glanced up at you on the bed as you summoned him, “You ok?” You giggled.

“Yeah…” He nodded, his head dipping back between your legs, planting a trail of kisses up your inner thighs, “Just lay down.”

You did as he commanded, and as you slowly lowered yourself back onto the mattress you were hit with a wave of instantaneous pleasure as you felt Bills tongue curiously exploring your folds. It was impossible to choke back the string of whines and moans that escaped your throat, and you were done holding back.

He was being so slow and so gentle, being so agonizingly tender it made you wonder if he was doing it out of his own inexperience or if it was because he wanted you to be in excruciating bliss. As long as he kept his head buried in your thighs you didn’t care which one it was.

Second by second, Bill swirled his tongue faster, and as he devoured your sweet juices his hands moved from your thighs to your hips. He gripped onto you tightly, pulling your body closer into him, and you could feel the tip of his nose gently stroke your sensitive pearl. As your toes curled and you let out a yelp of pleasure, it only made him more curious as to what he could make you do for him just from unintentionally toying with the little bundle of nerves.

Everything beyond this point was purely experimental for him.

Bill opened his eyes and did his best to get a good look at you, but with your back arched ever so slightly it was almost impossible to get a good read on your body. He just did whatever felt right. One hand moved from your thigh, his fingers gently trailing up and over your hip, and for just a moment he slowly tore his mouth away from you.

You whimpered at the loss of contact, opening your eyes and prepared to sit back up on your elbows to make sure Bill was ok, but were quickly forced back down by the feeling of 1000 volts of electricity rushing through your body as his fingers found their way to your clit. You gripped the sheets between your fingers so hard you thought if you were pushed just a little further they’d tear, and Bill was using this all to his advantage. He liked how submissive you were to his touch, and every little sound that came from you only told him how good of a job he was doing.

“Fuck…” You groaned out as Bill brought you closer and closer to your release.

You couldn’t see it, but the smile on his lips stayed cemented as he dove back into you, licking long flat stripes with his tongue over your folds. All he wanted was the joy of knowing that of all people, he was the one pushing you over the edge. As he felt your hand slowly move over the top of his head, fingers intertwined in his hair and tugging so gently to keep him put, his eyes shut tight. He could already feel himself making a mess of his sweatpants, not being able to hold back how you were able to make him leak just from laying there and taking it.

“ ‘M getting close…” You whined out, your fingers tightening their grip in his hair and Bill quickened his pace, burying his face into your thighs and completely losing control of himself. The mixture of your own juices and his saliva were dripping down his chin, and he could feel your hips instinctively try to jerk back but he pulled you back into his tongue each time you felt your own body betray you by pulling you away from such bliss.

“Bill… Bill…” His name slipped from your lips like a prayer over and over again, and finally hearing you cry out for him was all he needed to help you cross over that threshold. With one final twist of his tongue he heard your cries of pleasure and pulled himself away, catching his breath as he stared up at you on the bed.

Eyes closed, face red, your lips were parted and trembling as you slowly relaxed yourself into the bed, taking deep breaths to slowly bring you back down from your high.

Bill grabbed one of the stray pieces of clothes from the floor and wiped your juices from his chin, smiling up at you as his head rested on your thigh,

“You’re a fucking mess…” He chuckled, slowly standing himself up from the floor.

You groaned as you sat up onto your elbows, pulling the rest of your body back onto the bed and giving your legs a rest from their wide open position. With one last exhale, you looked up at him with a smile on your lips,

“I guess you did learn a little bit.”

“Told you.” He said with an eye roll, reaching his hand out to help lift you to sit upright. You took it graciously and the feeling of his hand in yours lingered before pulling it back down to rest at your side. As your eyes moved down his body, you couldn’t help your cheeks turning pink upon seeing how hard he was from the bulge in his sweats. And he was bigger than you anticipated.

“My turn…” His hands grabbed onto the waistband of his sweats and before he could pull them down his hips you stopped him,

“Wait.”

“What? Are you ok?” Bill looked to your face for any sign of discomfort but when he saw your eyes, glazed over with lust, looking up at him he knew that you were just going to toy with him further.

“Let me do it?” You asked, your fingers looping into the waistband of his sweats and gently tugging, almost as if asking for permission.

A shiver went down Bills spine, and you could sense him trembling under your touch, but he looked to you and nodded. You kept your eyes on his as you slowly pulled the fabric down his hips, your eyes moving back down as you noticed him getting caught on the waistband.

A quiet giggle escaped your lips as you exposed his manhood, popping out of his boxers and bobbing just before your eyes. He wasn’t huge by any means, but he certainly wasn’t small. And with the way the last hour had gone you were hoping and praying that he’d be a perfect fit inside you. His body was shaking as you finished pulling the fabric down to his ankles and you moved your hands up to caress the top of his thighs as he stepped out of them, kicking them away.

Bill didn’t know if he should be exhilarated or afraid when he noticed your gaze lingering on his groin.

“What?”

“Hm?” You peeked up at him and flashed a quick smile before averting your eyes back to his cock, “Nothing.” Finally having the real thing there before your eyes only made those thoughts come back into your head.

All the nights you spent with that piece of silicone between your legs, twisting yourself into uncomfortable positions just to make it feel a little more real, having your roster of men flipping through your brain like TV channels, and Bill was at the end of every one of them. Without a doubt, he was always the last person that came to mind, the last person you’d ever imagine having you feeling the way you felt during those lonely nights, the last person that you thought of before you came each and every time. Even through all the hatred, all the bitterness, it felt so surreal to see that he was right there before you.

Your eyes glanced up to his and you knew exactly why he stood there trembling,

“Don’t worry, I like it.” You whispered before moving a hand up to gently hold it at the base, leaning in and gently planting a wet open-mouth kiss to the tip.

Bills body gave into your touch almost instantly, a whine escaping his lips as he felt your kiss and nearly fainted from the euphoria.

“Ohh fuck~” You giggled as he placed his hand onto your shoulder to balance himself,

“Sorry…”

“It’s ok.” You giggled, taking your hand away from his member, “Why don’t you lay down? I think that’ll make it a little easier for both of us.”

“Can’t I just sit?” Bill asked as he sat next to you on the end of the mattress.

“No, I’m already on this gross bed, I’m not getting on your disgusting floor.”

“It’s not that bad!” Bill looked behind him and tossed the few comics that were tangled in with the blanket onto the floor, “There, clean bed.”

“Sure, ‘clean’.” You giggled, “Just go sit against the back of the couch, it’ll be more comfortable that way.”

Bill did as you commanded, slowly moving himself until his back was against the dark sofa cushions. He breathed slow and opened his legs for you to maneuver between them and watched as you crawled towards him, his hands already gently holding the sheets just from watching the way your body was swaying closer and closer.

“Comfortable?” You asked as you nestled yourself between his legs, hands slowly caressing his thighs.

Bill nodded and watched you intently, and as one hand wrapped back around the base you leaned down and the tip of your tongue gently licked over his slit. His breath caught in his throat and you could feel his body tense beneath you. You tried your best to flip your hair over your shoulders but it was no use, and you looked up to him from his lap,

“You could be a gentleman and hold my hair back.”

“Sorry,” Bill said with a chuckle, his hands reaching out and gently combing back the hair around your face with his fingers, collecting it and holding it back for you, “I wouldn’t know, I’ve never done this shit before.”

You smirked up at him before licking his tip again, your eyes glancing up to his face seeing that he was torn between watching you or clenching his eyes shut in bliss. Slowly, you planted kisses all along his length, making sure to linger your lips over the head just to see how sensitive it was for him. As he finally let his head tilt back against the cushion, you smiled and gently wrapped your lips around the head, suckling gently as you listened to each and every noise that slipped from his lips. The moans, whines and whimpers coming from him were enough to make you want to keep your mouth wrapped around him for as long as he asked.

Your lips enveloped the tip, suckling gently before slowly taking more and more past your lips, making sure to keep a steady pace as your head bobbed up and down in his lap. Bills hand was still wrapped tightly in your hair, and he was making sure to not push your head down further and force it all down your throat, he was too eager and it felt too good to not want to fuck your mouth, but he was being a gentleman. It didn’t come all that natural to him, but he was trying so hard to make this enjoyable for you.

Little by little, inch by inch, you lowered your lips onto him to see how deep you could take him, and as soon as you found that perfect spot of comfort you pulled your lips almost all the way off before sliding them back down to the base, eating a dragged out moan from Bill. You couldn’t stop.

With every little sound he made it was only making you want it more and more, hollowing out your cheeks each time you went back for more to tighten what little wiggle room there was. You could taste him at the back of your throat, and even though it had been only minutes since you began you could sense he was close from the way his body tensed around you.

“F-fuck…” He groaned through gritted teeth, “I think I’m gonna cum…” Just then you pulled your lips off with a silent pop, catching your breath as you sat up. Bills hand loosened its grip on your hair and looked to you with confusion, “That’s not fair.” He said in between breaths, “I made you cum, didn’t I?”

“You did.” You said with a smile, wiping the little bit of saliva off of your swollen lips, leaning your body up and giving him a quick kiss, “But my hand moves faster…”

You stayed in your upright position in his lap, moving your legs around to straddle his thigh and give yourself a bit more balance as one hand wrapped back around his cock, the other moving to hold the top of the cushion next to his head. Your hand was slowly pumping up and down, keeping your eyes glued onto his cock and smiling as you saw how hard he was trying to hold himself back. The pre-cum that was overflowing from his tip was providing the perfect lubricant for you to move just a bit faster, the wet sounds echoing in the room in between every whine that came from Bill. His chest was heaving, head tilted back on the couch cushion with his eyes clenched shut just enjoying every second he could. Relishing in every moment that your hands were on each other.

Your grip tightened and the dragged out moan that left his lips was enough to tell you that you were getting him close. You pumped faster and faster, those little whimpers encouraging you each and every time to go back in for more just to hear them one more time. Hearing him writhe beneath your touch made your heart race, yearning to feel him so close to you once more, and you knew that moment would come after he did. And as you watched his hands gripping at the sheets to his sides, nearly tearing them from the frustration of holding himself back for you, you leaned your lips close to his ear and whispered,

“I want you to cum for me~”

You felt his hips jerk up into your hand as he groaned, his head leaning further back onto the cushion as he completely let himself become submissive to your touch.

“Come on, it’s ok,” You whispered to him, “cum for me i know you want to.”

His body seized beneath you, his hips thrusting upward into your hand and with a few final agonizing strokes you watched as Bill painted his tummy with long spurts of his seed. He looked down at the mess he made of himself and his face went red, leaning it back against the cushion as he caught his breath, a few strands of his greasy hair stuck to his forehead.

“I’m sorry…” He said between breaths, your hand moving up to brush the hair away from his face, “your hands are a lot softer than mine…” He smiled before closing his eyes, breathing deep to get his heart rate back to normal, “I didn’t cum too fast, did I?”

You shook your head and smiled, “No, you didn’t.” You giggled, “Did it feel good having someone else do it?”

Bill nodded his head and lifted it back off of the back couch cushions, his hand reaching up to hold your cheek and pull you in close, his lips meeting yours again in an embrace of passion, “So good…” He said between kisses, “so much better…”

It was odd. He was being so gentle, so tender in this moment that it was sending sparks through your body with every movement of your lips. You never would’ve expected this kind of loving nature from him, but having him hold you so close while his lips softly and slowly moved with your own made you want him more and more with every passing second.

Everything he had done since the beginning made you want him more and more as the seconds went by. Maybe you didn’t hate him as much as you thought. He may have been an asshole but he was constantly checking for your consent at every chance he could, not being to cocky even after talking a big game and being so gentle with your body when it was in his hands, and this little bit of tenderness he was showing you after making a complete mess of himself was the last little bit of convincing you needed to realize that whenever he popped up in the back of your mind during those lonely nights, is because you wanted him to be there.

You slowly pulled back and your eyes glanced down to his stomach, not being able to stifle your giggles,

“Now who’s made a mess of themselves?”

“Shut up.” He chuckled, “I couldn’t help it, you’re really good at that. I guess I’m not the only guy you’ve whored yourself out to, huh?”

“I’m not whoring myself out to you,” You said with an eye roll, reaching over and grabbing one of the stray shirts thrown onto the back of the couch cushions, handing it to Bill to clean himself up, “I’m doing you a favor. And the only reason I’m doing you a favor is because you’re going to do me a favor. Eventually.”

“Still not telling me?” He asked, sitting himself up and using the shirt to wipe up his mess, “You’re not going to try and make me ‘change my ways’ or some bullshit like that, right?”

You shrugged and leaned forward and gave him one last kiss,

“You’ll find out after I let you fuck me.”

Bill tossed the soiled shirt away and watched as you laid yourself out on the mattress, your hand reaching down between your legs to gently rub the sensitive bud he took advantage of, still so sensitive to touch. He quickly regained his stamina, climbing over you with a smile on his face, his body resting between your legs as his hands kept him propped up just above your shoulders.

“Really? You’re ready for it now?” He couldn’t hide his excitement amy longer, and you felt how quickly he hardened against your leg.

You nodded slowly reached your hands up, holding the back of his neck and pulling his face close to yours,

“Go slow. Be gentle. You do exactly as I say.” You ordered. Bill nodded and looked down between your bodies, maneuvering his hips down and watching to line himself up with your entrance before you stopped him, “Not now!”

“What?” He looked back up to you with his eyebrows furrowed, moving himself back away from your entrance as you asked.

“Get a condom, I’m not letting you cum in me.”

“Oh, right, uh…” His eyes wandered all over the basement, trying to remember if he even had any stored down there, or anywhere for that matter, “Shit…”

“You do have one, right?”

“Uh, yeah…” He sat up from between your legs and crawled down to the end of the bed, looking all over the dirtied basement trying to remember if Pete had left that little box he brought a few weeks ago, “somewhere…”

By this point you couldn’t deny your body what it had been aching for for weeks. You leaned yourself up and knelt next to him on the bed, your hand grabbing his jaw and turning his face to you,

“You better fucking have one, I need you to fuck me.”

As you let go, you could see the gears in his head turning, his eyes looking over every shelf and desktop for just the littlest flash reflecting off of the metallic packaging as you laid yourself back onto the mattress.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get one.” Bill hopped up from the bed and tried to remember where one could possibly be. He rethought that whole night trying desperately to think of where they would’ve been hidden.

The guys coming over for another ‘club meeting’, tackling one another over some bullshit regarding who’s kept who’s comic for longer, ordering way too much pizza using his moms credit card while they rewatched The X-Files for the millionth time, Pete talking about meeting some girl at a bar and how he was finally going to get lucky and brought out a box of condoms that he forgot about on the…

“Side table…” Bill whispered to himself as he quickly darted his attention to the cluttered table in between the couches arm rest and one of the various comic filled bookshelves.

He leaned over and pushed off the empty cans and mini chip bags, making sure not to accidentally knock over the dirtied ash tray with a half smoked joint still resting on the side, finally finding that familiar little box hiding underneath one of the empty video game cases. He smiled in disbelief, moving back to kneel between your legs as he struggled with the small cardboard box.

“Wow,” You giggled as you watched him try to hurriedly open the box, eventually relying on his teeth to tear the top away, “I’m shocked you actually had any down here, there’s no fucking way you were able to get a girl in bed. Especially in this filth.”

“Yeah? Well I got you down here, didn’t I?” Bill chuckled, tearing off one of the foil packets from the connected serrated edges.

“I guess you’re right.” Your eyes watched as Bill pulled out the condom, tossing the wrapper to the floor and slowly sliding the lubricated latex down the length of his cock.

Bill took one last deep breath before reassuming his position from before, his body resting between your legs, hands just a move your shoulders to balance himself over you, his cock hovering over your entrance. You adjusted your body beneath him, hands moving to hold his forearms as you looked up to him.

This was it. The moment you had stuck in the back of your mind for weeks, your body aching for him in ways even you didn’t understand, and it felt so surreal. All the times you spent glaring at him for even bothering to be in your presence, all the times you felt his eyes on you whenever he passed by, all the times he interrupted you speaking just to be able to get the last word in for whatever bullshit reasons he kept to himself, it all felt like it was for nothing. All for you to end up naked beneath him, waiting for him to fuck you senseless like you had imagined so many times before.

“Ready?” Bill asked, pulling you from your trance, and as he saw you slowly nod your head he turned his vision between your bodies.

Bill tried to control his breathing, inching himself closer and closer to your entrance and you could sense his slight hesitation.

“Bill?” You said quietly, his attention averting back up to you, “Are you ok?”

He was silent, but you could see the anxiety pooling in his eyes, so excited and yet so nervous to be doing the one thing he had always dreamed of. You weren’t sure what it was that made him so suddenly lose all confidence he seemed to have before, but if he was ready you’d make sure to help him stay ready.

“Nervous?” You asked, Bill nodding back slowly. “It’s ok to be nervous,” You smiled to help ease a little bit of the tension, your eyes meeting his, “do you want me to help?”

Bill looked back down between your bodies before giving you a little nod, your hand slowly reaching down to gently grasp his cock and guide it to your entrance, “Right here, you do the rest ok? And remember, slow and gentle, do as I say.”

“Right… slow and gentle…” Bill said quietly, taking one last deep breath before ever so slightly bringing his hips forward, watching your face for any sign of discomfort as he pushed himself into you, finally crossing that threshold.

You breathed slow, a shaky exhale leaving your lips at the first initial stretch, feeling him sink deeper into you. Bill took his time, soaking in the euphoria of your warmth as he pushed himself in deeper and deeper, trying so hard to hold himself back from cumming too soon again, all from the soft tightness of your walls squeezing around him.

It didn’t feel anything like what you were used to with anyone else.

The initial burning of that first stretch was nonexistent, your walls were consuming him so easily and every single moment of it was pure bliss. You could feel him sinking deeper into your body, his hips nearly pressed to yours and as you looked up at his face you could see how focused he was on making sure that this was good for you. His lip quivering, shaking breaths leaving his throat, and every few moments he’d look back up to you just to see if he was doing everything the way he was supposed to. When his eyes met yours he stopped, hips pressed to yours as he was fully sheathed between your legs.

As Bill peered into your eyes he felt as if he could feel your soul staring right back into his.

“You can move. Slow.” You whispered to him, getting a quick nod in response as Bills eyes went back down between your bodies, watching as he slowly pulled himself from you, only to push himself back in to the hilt.

When he heard a gentle whine escape your lips, he took it as a sign of good faith that he was doing well.

“Keep going…” You stuttered between breaths, your arms slowly wrapping around his shoulders to hold him as he hovered over you, your body moving with every slow thrust, “ohh fuck…”

Bill smiled to himself as he watched your face contort with pleasure after every gentle thrust, your moans and whines sounding like the most beautiful symphony he’d ever heard, and it was all for him.

“Can I… Can I go faster?” Bill asked, almost begging you to let him fuck you like he’d always thought about whenever he had his hand wrapped around his cock, but the overdone moans and groans that came from his monitor didn’t compare to the real thing.

You said nothing, only nodding to him as you let your body become consumed with the agonizing pleasure he was bringing you.

With every thrust Bill made he was inching you closer and closer to the edge, but you wanted to drag it out for as long as possible. Where was the fun in keeping it quick? All those months of nonstop hatred, the dirty looks and stares, the comments under your breath and the irritating way he would walk around you like he had you wrapped around his finger all because you couldn’t snap back. Why bother keeping it short when he was wrapped around your pretty little finger, making you a mess on his dirty basement sleeper sofa like you expected him to every lonely night that you were left with your thoughts.

As your eyes slowly opened hearing Bill trying so hard to choke back the moans you were dying to hear, it was almost as if he could see into your mind. He was towering over you, your bodies moving in sync with every thrust, his face red and his eyes clenched shut in bliss, it was almost cute to see how flustered you had made him all from giving him the one thing every pervert in his 20’s would’ve only dreamed of.

Bill let his fantasies get the best of him, suddenly remembering that he didn’t have to keep his eyes closed to think about all the dirty things he wanted to do to you. He didn’t have to use his imagination to pretend your warm body was there in his lap while he was sat in front of his monitor, thrusting into his hand and pretending it was you. With every noise that came from your lips, every creak that came from that shoddy mattress, every time he felt his body tingle with each push back into you only built his confidence more and more, and as he opened his eyes and looked down upon your figure beneath him he was consumed with a greediness that could only be satisfied by having you writhe beneath him, begging him to make you cum.

He carefully repositioned himself, adjusting his pace as he sat himself up onto his knees, his hands moving from beside your head to firmly gripping onto your waist, pulling your body into him each time he drove his cock back into you. Bill couldn’t help but let out the same bliss filled whines as he picked up his pace, looking down between your bodies as he watched himself fuck you into submission. He smiled as he let this newfound cockiness consume him.

“Look at me.” He demanded, your eyes slowly prying open and looking up through the frames nearly falling off the bridge of his nose from the gentle sheen on sweat on his brow, “Tell me how good it feels…” He groaned through gritted teeth, “Tell me how good it feels when I fuck you.”

“It feels so good… fuck~” You whined as you tried to keep your eyes on him, “It feels so fucking good… You’re the only person that’s made me feel like this…” Bill smiled wider as he watched you struggle to keep focused, watching the euphoria overcome you as he felt your walls start to tighten around him. He picked up his pace, his hands moving from your waist to your hips and guided one of your legs to hook around his waist, drilling into you.

“Use me…” Bill heard you whine out, watching as you were hit with a sudden burst of energy as the white hot burning in your core was getting brighter and brighter. With the sudden burst of adrenaline you leaned yourself up as much as you could, one hand holding your legs open for him as the other went behind his neck, pulling him closer to you, his forehead pressed to yours, “Use me until you can’t, please…”

You could feel the tears pricking your eyes, not being able to hold back the surge of emotions. No one had ever filled you with such pleasure, such passion, that it had made your body completely forget all functions. It was bliss. Pure, agonizing bliss. And Bill was the one to make you feel this way.

He moved one hand away from your waist and held the back of your neck, keeping you close as he felt himself start to get sloppy with his thrusts. Each push back into you was one more moment closer to release, and he could tell that meant for you as well as he felt your fingers gripping onto his hair.

“Oh f-fuck…” Bill groaned, not being able to hold himself back any longer, “I think I’m gonna cum… Are you close?”

You held onto him tightly, whimpering as you nodded to him, not able to make out the proper words as the excruciating ecstasy flowed through your veins. You knew it would take mere moments before you felt that rush through your body once more, and with a few final thrusts you gripped onto Bill tightly, eyes clenched shut as your legs wrapped around his waist to pull him in just one last time. With one final drawn out moan from him, his thrusts slowed as he filled the condom and carefully laid himself over you.

The silence that filled the room was a serene stillness as the two of you were tangled in each others arms, Bill still buried deep inside you as you caught your breath. You waited patiently for your orgasm to wash over your body, giving yourself time to recollect your thoughts and emotions before fully realizing what had just occurred.

You had sex with Bill Dickey, and it was the best you’ve ever had.

Slowly, Bill lifted himself off of your body and carefully pulled himself out of you, maneuvering himself to lay next to you on the sleeper sofa as he pulled off the filled condom and tied off the end. He tossed it into the full garbage can next to the arm of the couch and reached over to pull the dark throw blanket over your bodies. Maybe it was just instinct, but you curled up to his side, resting your head onto his chest as your breath finally slowed to a normal pace once more, the aching between your legs finally subsided.

“Fuck…” Bill said with an exhale, his arm slowly moving around your shoulder to hold you to his side, “You don’t mind if I smoke do you?” He asked as his eyes caught the ash tray on the side table, the half smoked joint still resting in it.

You smiled up at him and giggled to yourself quietly, unsure if you were shocked or not at the fact that that was the first thing he’d said to you after taking his virginity.

“No. Not if you share.”

He reached his other arm over, making sure to still keep you at his side as he grasped the joint with his fingers, quickly grabbing the lighter next to it. He brought the filter to his lips and lit the end of it, taking a deep inhale and slowly blew the smoke from his lips before passing it to you,

“Um, you know…” Bill started, keeping his eyes on his lap as his hand reached up to brush away the few strands of hair stuck to his forehead, “to be honest with you, I didn’t think I would really ever, uh… you know, do that, with anyone. So, uh… thank you.”

It was odd to hear him speak and not be repulsed by every word, but there was something in his voice that made it sound so sincere. He really never had the thought in his head that he would even get close to kissing, let alone sleeping with a girl, and yet it had all happened so quickly. His quick little ‘thank you’ wouldn’t seem all that honest to some, but after the time you had spent with him in that dirty basement, making him feel the way he never thought a woman would want to make him feel, you could tell he was being truthful with every word.

“Don’t mention it.” You said with a smile, holding back a chuckle to keep from choking on the smoke as you exhaled and handed the joint back to Bill.

“So am I like… your boyfriend now, or something?” He asked before placing it back between his lips.

“No.” You said with a laugh, finally looking up at him as he tapped the end of the joint into the ashtray, and oddly enough he looked quite good with his messy hair and the smoke billowing from his lips, “You are not my boyfriend.” You could see in his eyes that he was a bit hurt at your bluntness, but you smirked up to him as you took the joint from between his fingers and brought it back to your lips, “But, that did remind me of the little favor you owe me after doing all that for you.”

“Oh yeah, that.” He chuckled and looked down at you, “What do you want? I’m willing to be generous too, especially after how good it felt….”

“Oh thank you,” You rolled your eyes with a scoff and took one more puff before passing the joint back to him, “how kind.”

Bill shrugged with a smirk, blowing the smoke past his lips, “It’s the least I can do for you after doing all that porn star shit for me.”

Even after all your done for him, he just couldn’t help but go right back to his insufferable self immediately after. But, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t expect it. His type doesn’t change, unless given the right circumstances.

“For starters, you could be nice to me.” You inched yourself to sit up a bit more to look at him directly. “That would be nice, especially after all I did for you.”

Bill took another drag from the joint between his fingers before handing it back to you, blowing the smoke the other direction before turning his attention to you. It’s nearly impossible to try and ignore a naked girl asking for your attention.

“Alright.” He shrugged, “I could try it.”

“Thank you for trying,” You said with a laugh, taking a quick puff from the joint, “I’d like an apology first.”

“An apology?” He asked with a confused look on his face, lips curled like he wanted to laugh at the mere mention of an apology from him, “For what?”

“For what?” You scoffed, taking another quick puff and preparing yourself for the storm you were about to send his way, “I’ve had to go around you for the last few weeks and act like you didn’t piss me off because I was on the clock. I’ve had to ignore your gross comments and weird stares, I’ve had to ignore your incessant bothering during the times where I’m supposed to be teaching your sister, I’ve had to ignore the fact that every time I’ve been here you’ve caused me to leave with the worst taste in my mouth about you, and I just had sex with you. So I’d like an apology for the way you’ve treated me.” You offered the last hit of the joint to him, and watched him closely for a reaction.

Bill sat there silently for a moment, taking in every word you had just said as he took the last puff of the joint before asking it into the little ashtray on the side table.

You were right. He would go out of his way to annoy you, to make you feel like no matter what he could have his eyes on you while you were there because that’s all you were there for. For him to ogle and smirk at because you had to be there, for him to try and do whatever he could to get a reaction from you because at least then you had to interact with him. He was irritating and he was a slob and yet still, you had sex with him. You at the very least deserved an apology.

“You’re right.” He said plainly, looking down at you, “I shouldn’t have treated you like that, you didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry.”

It was nice to finally hear those honest words leave his lips, and you smiled up at him, thankful that he at least had the decency to understand the importance of it to you. Wether he wanted to apologize or not, he still did it, and he didn’t listen to anyone but himself. You must’ve put quite the spell on him.

“Thank you.” You leaned in close to him and gently kissed his lips, catching him blush as you pulled away, “And, since you were so nice about it, I think I have an offer you may like.”

“Yeah?” He asked with a smirk, his arm moving back around your shoulder to pull you in close, “Let’s hear it.”

“Well…” You smiled, looking away from him as your cheeks went red, trying hard to hide your flustered state, “If you keep being nice to me, I’ll keep having sex with you.”

“Really?” Bill asked with a smile, shocked you would even consider doing something like that again with him, but happy nonetheless, “Oh, baby, I’ll do whatever the fuck you tell me to do…”

He leaned over you again and pushed his lips to yours, holding your hip and pulling your body into his. You smiled against him but quickly moved your hand up into his hair and pulled him back,

“Not now!” You giggled, “I’m not going to make it that easy for you.”

“Sorry,” Bill laughed, pulling himself away but still keeping you close, “Then when’s the next time we can do this?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, “I’m back again next week, and if you can make a few changes by then I wouldn’t mind seeing your room~” You smiled, your fingers gently playing with the ends of his hair.

“I can do that.” Bill smiled, his cheeks still lightly tinted pink, “What kind of changes are we talking about?”

“Well, since you asked…” You smiled to yourself, ready to list off every little thing you could just to see if he could do it in only a weeks time, but even doing half would be enough for you. It would show at the very least that he was trying. “You could clean a little more, and that includes yourself. And you could stop eating all this junk and locking yourself away down here or in your bedroom like a hermit, I’m sure sunlight would do you some good. And maybe if you didn’t spend all your money, or your moms money, on all your comics and shit you might be able to afford a car. Or if you got a job-“

“Ok! I get it!” He shouted, not prepared to hear you list off item after item, “So I’ll just stop being me.”

“Hold on, I didn’t say that.” You looked back up to him and met his eyes through the black frames resting on his nose, “I’m not saying change every little thing about yourself, I’m just expecting you to act your age. I want to hear more about you, and I’d like for you to tell me about all the stuff you like, as long as you’re willing to hear about all the things I like. But, you need to start taking some responsibility.”

Bill nodded along as he listened, and though having to change his norms was something he considered only a second to torture, he was willing to do it. For you. Just as long as you kept up your end.

“Ok. I can try.” He said with a slight smile.

You couldn’t help but smile back and leaned your body up, giving him a quick but tender kiss before laying yourself back down onto his arms, “So, uh… How do I start?” Bill asked.

You nuzzled more into his body, his warmth and the scent of his natural musk helped soothe your body further as you relaxed into him,

“For now? Just hold me…”

“I can do that.” He said with a smile, allowing you a bit more space as his hand slowly moved up and down your shoulder.

You could feel him resting his head against yours, and you smiled as you felt his lips softly press to your forehead. As you lay there enjoying the moment, one last thought popped back into your head.

“Bill?” You asked him, not moving from your place at his body. He answered back with a quiet ‘hm?’ before you sat up and looked to him, your eyebrows furrowed, “Why did you have my wallet?”

#eltingville club #the eltingville club #bill dickey smut #bill dickey x y/n #bill dickey x reader #bill dickey fanfic #bill the eltingville club #bill dickey x you #eltingville bill #bill dickey x fem reader #bill dickey fanfiction #bill dickey fluff #bill dickey x yn #bill dickey

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 7 months ago

Text

MONSTER- SAM WINCHESTER

pairing: soulless! ghostface! bestfriend! sam x fem! reader

word count: 4.3k

summary: you had always had a massive crush on your best friend, sam. that crush never went away even when he had to leave- for some "family buisness". when halloween rolls around, you invite him to a halloween party- hoping theres a chance he could show up and you could finally get lucky- even with all the sudden disappearances happening around town...

warnings: HEAVY SMUT! like kinky smut. use of knife play, and mentions of ropes. sam being a massive dom, dumbification kink, p in v, heavy praise kink, booze and drugs consumed/ mentioned, mentions of killings- kidnapping, implied mask kink, dry humping, over-protetive sam, heavy size kink, swearing, flirtation etc... dark sam...

"uh-oh, there was a monster in my bed/ we french-kissed on a subway train/ he tore my clothes right off/ he ate my heart and then he ate my brain... uh-oh, uh-oh (i love that girl)/ (wanna talk to her, she's hot as hell)"- monster, lady gaga

note: this is my first supernatural fic, i really hope i did sam some justice:) i havent had the time to fully rewatch the show (its been a while, so im really sorry if this isnt entirely accurate)- this moreso focuses on just... sam being a kinky freak. cause cmon now. we know this is canon as fuck. enjoy reading!

You weren’t sure what to believe, in all honesty. Rumors spread through campus like wildfire, and you were caught just teetering on the lick of the flame.

Girls, disappearing from their homes.

Girls never making it to their dorms.

It had even gotten so extreme you heard of guys getting swept up like Thursday garbage day.

The whole ordeal made you uneasy. Vulnerable.

You constantly checked over your shoulder, even in the daylight.

No one was safe.

But in all honesty, you couldn’t help but scoff. It would never happen to you.

Nothing ever did.

You were pretty plain in that sense; nothing drastic had ever happened to you.

For the most part, your life was normal. You had normal friends, went to a normal university, and had normal parents. No boyfriend, but a normal crush on your friend Sam Winchester. Totally, completely normal.

Which is why, when you were invited to a totally normal Halloween party at one of the frats, you didn’t think anything of it. It was a Wednesday night, and you longed to slip into PJs and crawl into bed.

But here you were, attempting to “lock in” at the library (and had been failing miserably). You had a paper to write, but your mind was anywhere but on the laptop screen in front of you.

The cursor stared at you as it blinked, taunting you to write. You put your head in your hands, sighing. You also had totally normal stress about school.

Okay, it was extreme stress. But you were a straight-A, goodie two-shoes. You had an image to keep dusted and a reputation to uphold.

But the urge to push that to the side increased as your phone buzzed. You instinctively picked it up—your friend Megan texting you.

Megan: Hey baby. Halloween party at Jason’s on Saturday night. Bar hop and then we go in our bunny costumes?

You smirked. Now this, this was something you could get behind. All that could be heard was your thumbs flying across the keyboard in the dead quiet library.

Everyone had gone home early due to the unusual events that had been occurring. You weren’t bothered by it much.

You: Duh, bitch! Let’s party it up.

You stared at your messages longer than you should’ve, focusing on one name in particular. Sam.

You hadn’t heard from him in over a week. The two of you were best friends and had been since high school. You were pretty close with his older brother Dean too, although closer to Sam since he was your age.

That closeness almost increased when he had started to go to your university. The pair of you were inseparable until he had to leave.

You didn’t ask questions because you knew he wouldn’t be able to answer. Him and Dean were very selective about what parts of their lives they told. Family business wasn’t any of your business.

So you gave him a long hug and made him promise to keep in touch if he could.

That day felt like ages ago. It had been so long since you saw him.

Texting him wasn’t the same.

You: Any plans for Halloween, Sammy?

You put your phone down, not expecting an answer until a while later. The Winchesters took forever to respond, and you learned not to take it personally. Your phone buzzed, and your heart fluttered as you saw who it was from.

Sam: You know I don’t do Halloween. It’s stupid, and the costumes are lame. You: Well, I’m going as a sexy bunny.

You watched the text bubble appear, then disappear. Then reappear again.

Sam: Okay, that’s not lame. Send pictures, please. Asking for a friend.

You giggled, feeling your cheeks heat at his reply. Him and Dean were such flirts. You couldn’t help but like it, though, because of your crush on the younger Winchester.

You: Well, if you want, you can see it in person. If you’re in town this weekend, there’s a party on Saturday night ;) Sam: I’ll see what I can do, Bunny.

You sighed, shoving your phone back in your pocket. You needed to focus on work and get this paper done so you could enjoy yourself this weekend without the weight of school on your shoulders. You couldn’t enjoy yourself properly without it done.

So you pushed your head back into the books, fingers frantically flying across the keyboard to type anything your brain could come up with.

But the entire time, you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched.

Not once, but twice.

--------------------------------------------------------- The shot burned as you tossed it back, licks of fire seeping into your belly as you grimaced. You were more of a vodka girl then a tequila, but you’d take what was given to you.

You set the little glass down with a thud on your vanity, taking a deep breath as you stared at yourself in the mirror, soft lights dimly lighting up your reflection.

You looked good.

You weren't one to be overly confident, but you had to admit to yourself, you’d grab attention. The sleek, black corset hugged and accentuated your curves, boobs popping and teasing as they strained against the fabric.

You placed the black bunny ears on your head, adjusting your hair so it curled around your shoulders just right. You very tipsly pursed your lips in the mirror, a hand on your hip as you winked at yourself.

If this doesn't get Sam's attention, you don't know what will.

The thought of him made you giddy, butterflies swarming in your chest at the mere idea there was a chance he and maybe even Dean would be there tonight. You very much doubted it, and did not blame them if they couldn't arrive.

They were busy. You doubted they would even be near town, let alone in it.

But a girl could hope and dream.

You made sure to do a signature, sexy makeup look you knew Sam liked (you caught him staring at your lips a little too long a few times), in case he arrived.

“You coming?” Megan yelled from her bedroom, and you scrambled to grab your phone and hike on your heeled boots.

“Yeah one second!”

You posed, snapping a quick mirror picture in case you needed photo evidence in your costume to send to him later.

You were nervous. Taking another deep breath, you shut your eyes, and begged those shots to give your lightweight ass some drunk corrage to get laid tonight.

It had been too long. Above and beyond your goal if it was one man in particular.

------------------------------------------- You were no longer nervous.

Instead, you had turned into Kat Stratford, shaking your hips and dancing like no one was watching on top of the kitchen table in some random frat house.

The red lights danced across the skin, and you tilted your head back, letting sweat trickle down your neck as you swayed to 2010s Lady Gaga thumping from the speakers loud enough to shake the picture frames on the walls. Your friends had all gathered around you, even some fellow straggler guys who wanted to get a quick peek as you had your drunken fun, red solo cup sloshing around.

A sudden voice broke you from your trance.

“Y/N what do you think you’re doing?” a sassy, low voice drawled from the ground, and your eyes widened. Sam's mischievous, teasing look made your heart flutter as he looked at you, barely having to look up- already being taller than the average human.

Much, much bigger than you- that was for sure.

“S-Sam?” you smiled, stumbling over to try and get off the table, tripping in the process. You let out a squeal as you fell right into his large arms, holding you as if you weighed nothing.

He chuckled as you stumbled to the ground, wasting no time as you wrapped your arms around him- clearly drunk.

“Imisseedyousomuch-” you slurred, giggling as you clung to his torso rocking back and forth with excitement.

“I can't believe you made it! How have you been? Oh my gosh, I have so much to tell you. And wait- woah are you wearing a costume?”

You rambled on, his bright eyes and soft smirk never leaving his lips as you tripped over your words. He pulled a mask from behind his back, as if he were revealing a magic trick to a toddler, waving the Ghostface mask in front of you.

”The one and only.” he winked.

“Who are you and what did you do with Sammy? I thought you didn't do Halloween?”

“Changed my mind this year, thought I’d make it special.” he smiled, subtly placing a hand on your waist, guiding you over to a quieter area so you could talk- his eyes never leaving yours.

He was entranced with you. The way you spoke, the way you moved, the way you looked.

God the way you looked.

And you were so dizzy from the booze, and from the excitement of seeing him you didn't even notice. You didn't notice the little shifts in his demeanour either, the way his smirk was as sly as a cheshire cats.

“It is special. You look hot.” you giggled, embarrassment thrown out the window. You didn't even care anymore.

What did you have to lose? You never saw him anyway- as sad as it was to say, it was reality.

He leaned against the wall, his large frame seeming to cast a shadow over you, shielding you from anyone else. He bit his lip, looking you up and down, gaze lingering on every curve.

“Hot indeed.”

You smiled, doing a little twirl, letting him admire you. “Whada think Sammy?” you asked innocently, knowing his thoughts were anything but. He whistled.

“Pretty lil bunny. You’re so gorgeous, ya know that?”

Your cheeks heated at his words. He was forward and blunt tonight- you thought. Not that you minded, it was just a little out of character for him. Flirty, yes, but this forward? It must have been the alcohol.

“You’re not too bad yourself. But seriously, were you actually in town? I didn't want you to make a separate trip for me.” you hit his shoulder lightly. You could feel the muscle from under the black baggy sweater he wore.

Jesus he had bulked since you saw him last. How long had it really been?

“What and missed seeing my bunny? Never in a million years. Dean and I were just poking around, and I wanted to say hello.”

“Deans here too?” Your eyes flickered around the room, vision slightly fuzzy as you whipped around slowly to look for him, Sam's hand slipping up to cup your chin, thumb gripping your skin so you stared into his eyes.

“Yeah, but you know him. Probably fucking some college chick- who knows. I'm sure you'll see him around tonight.” he smiled softly. You nodded dumbly as if you were under some hypnotic trance.

“Yeah, yeah you're right. Hey- did you wanna head outside so we can talk? It’s loudddd in here.” you giggled. You and Sam typically used to do this at parties, both of you finding them exhausting and boring after the first two hours or so.

You often talked about random shit, whether it be deep and personal (mainly to you) or something silly while smoking weed and sprawling across him. It was just what he wanted it seemed, eager beyond belief to get you outside, all alone.

You guided him through the swarm of people, many staring you down as if you were fresh meat. You felt Sam's grip tighten as you made your way to the back door, waving at Megan and group of girls you had met earlier tonight.

The chill breeze sent goosebumps rising up and down your bare arms, past your little cufflinks. You shivered under the moonlight, letting the wind blow your hair back, tickling Sam's chest as he shut the door tight behind him, as if he wanted to keep people out.

Or you out. You couldn't tell.

“S’colder than I thought.” you hiccuped, slowly making your way over to the wooden porch steps, out of sight from the windows as you knelt down slowly to keep yourself from falling flat on your ass with a smack.

“What, you didn't drink enough to wear your alcohol jacket?” he teased, taking two long strides over to you, plopping down beside you.

“S’so did. But I’m just hyper aware of it n all, like my tits are screaming at me for letting them out on tonight of all nights.”

You couldn't stop talking. God what was wrong with you. You smacked your forehead, making Sam chuckle, running a hand through his hair.

“I can run back to the Impala and grab my jacket for you if you’d like.”

“What, your lumberman jacket? And mess up my outfit? You just want to look better than me, is that it Sammy? To woo the girls?”

His eyebrow perked. “You're the only girl I wanna woo.”

You nudged his side, insides practically screaming at you. Were you just really drunk, or was Sam Winchester- the man you had a crush on for years, legitimentluy flirting with you?

“Dont be silly.”

“I'm not being silly, I’m being truthful.”

You pursed your lips, turning your head to stre at him, instead of the acres of forest that stretched in the backyard. The wind caused the bare tree branches to rattle, hissing through the night. Not even the sound of animal stirred.

The night seemed dead and stale.

Sam was much prettier to look at instead.

“Needy. When the last time you got laid Winchester?”

He snorted, pinching your bare arm. “Ouch!” you shriked.

“Don't be mean.”

“I'm not being mean, I’m asking you truthfully. Cause I havent gotten some in forever, and it's getting old quick.” you sighed, resting an elbow on your knee, leaning your chin in your hand to support your weight.

You felt giddy and nervous as Sam slid his large hand over to carasse your thigh, fingers tickling the flesh as he allowed them to trail patterns on you.

“Yeah? Poor girl.” he cooed, pinching your skin again quickly. You wet your lips, batting your innocent, doe eyes at him as he let his hand inch towards your inner, inner thigh.

“Yeah its… rough out here.”

“No contenders? What a shame.” You giggled. “I only want one contender. Im not sure if he wants me back.” you drunkenly hicuped, his stare turning liquid, full of desire as he hungerly eyed you up and down,your eyes, your lips, your breasts.

“You think I havent noticed the way you look at me?”

You froze.

“You think I havent noticed you, for ages? Do you know how stupid it was of me, of him to let this go to waste?”

He chuckled lowly to himself. “Oh no, no no baby. It's adorable, your little crush.” he smirked, pinching your cheeks, as if you were his little doll. You felt your jaw go slack at his words.

“W-wait, so you want- I mean you like me? Too?” you asked meekly, chewing on on the inside of your cheek.

“Like you? Oh baby I’m obsessed with you. You precious little thing.”

You giggled, nudging his beefy shoulder with your own, leaning against him. “Really?” you stared up at him with stars in your eyes, feeling like a kid in a candy store.

Were you actually getting what you wanted? The thing you truly had wanted, for what seemed like eons now?

Two goals were getting checked tonight. Fuck. Yeah.

“Really.” he purred, sliding his hand down so it was practically cupping your aching and soaked heat. Your breath shuttered. “This okay?” he asked softly, and you nearly tore off your outfit right then and there.

You were about to see what Sam was like in the bedroom. Or- the outside. Wherever that may be.

You nodded, hiccuping and practically melting into him as he cupped you, making you purr like a kitten.

“G-gonna break that dry spell Winchester?” you smiled, head lolling against his fingers stroking your cunt through the flimsy fabric. “Ha. I still know a thing or too.” he purred.

“So responsive…” he murmured as you bucked your hips.

You weren't sure if it was the weed, or the shots, or the wind against your soaked cunt but you were flustered beyond belief. Before you could even process what had happened, you were flung over his shoulder, bouncing as he ran over to the security of the hidden, tucked away woods.

You squealed, clinging onto his shoulder for dear life as you watched the world become out of reach from a much higher view point. He smacked your ass and you jolted before setting you down in the woods, the crunch of leaves under your feet as you wobbled.

There was just enough moonlight you could see the boyish, michelvious glean in his eyes as he backed you against a tree, the rough bark making you shiver under his gaze as he caged you in.

“Now no one can hear you scream for me.” he smirked, cockily. You were so flustered you didn't even know where to begin. You moaned as he grabbed your ass, lifting you up to his height, lips crashing against yours with such hunger you thought he would eat you whole, a wolf in sheep's clothing.

Teeth and tongue clashed as you ran your fingers through his hair, tugging at the strands, your bunny ears long forgotten in the mess of the woods. You let your hands run across his body, feeling the hard muscle through the black fabric, before you felt something unusual.

Something sharp.

Your heart skipped a beat as his lips left swollen ones, lipgloss stained across his own, a line of spit still connecting them. He kissed your neck, biting and sucking at the exposed skin as you turned to putty.

A knife was pulled from behind his back and you shivered as he stared at you cooly, letting the blade glitter in the moonlight. You swallowed dryly.

“Is- is that real?” you asked softly. He nodded. You felt your panties dampen even more.

Fuck. So he was a freak.

He waited, as if he wanted to see how’d you react. If you’d spit in his face and call him sick and demented. But instead you wrapped your hand around his own, guiding the blade against your neck, letting it fall back- giving him further access.

His eyes widened in admiration, then amusement at your silent request.

“Oh you dirty, dirty girl. You like this shit, yeah? You like when I take control like this?”

He curved the blade, and you felt it trail down to the tops of your exposed breasts.

“I could carve something right here, y’know baby? And you're such a dumb dolly, so in love with me that you'd let me.”

You drunkenly nodded, attempting to buck and grind your hips against him. He stilled, titling the blade, as if he were to pierce it through your heart.

You felt the sting, the little drop of blood it caused.

“But I’d never hurt you baby. You’re too precious.” he hummed, eyes so dark they seemed to flicker black.

The knife dropped to the ground, his lips marking your breasts as you squirmed, grinding against him. You found his belt buckle, the cool metal deciduous against your throbbing cunt- hands struggling to unbuckle it.

“We’ll need the ropes for you next time. You're pathetic. You know that?” he gripped your chin, smooshing your cheeks. You felt tears start to well in your eyes from the pure need that was in your system, so desperate to escape you. It hurt.

“Please. Please Sammy, please-” you whimpered, making him laugh, planting a kiss to the top of your forehead.

You slid from his grip like liquid into a puddle as he unbuckled his jeans, and your mouth watered at the sight.

He was huge.

You knew he would be, but you underestimated just how huge.

All your fantasies could never compare with this. With him, and his body.

“See something you like?” he asked smugly, tugging the drapey dark fabric over his head, tossed in the brush somewhere.

Your eyes nearly fell out of their head at his V line, happy trail leading right to where you needed him most.

“Wanna suck your cock.” you mumbled bashfully, unapologetic of the free rein of your speech right now. You were past the point of shame, or embarrassment.

“What was that angel?” he smiled, hand grabbing your chin again as your knees threatened to wobble, and give out from underneath you.

Jesus he was intense. Whatever it was tonight, it was amplified.

“Wanna suck your cock please Sammy.” you begged. He cooed down at you, face pouting in faux pity.

“Awh silly baby. As much as I’d love to have you down on your knees, I have other plans for us tonight, yeah?”

You nodded dumbly as he took over, fingers sliding your bodysuit and thong to the side, running a finger through your soaked folds. He hummed, content.

“Such a soaked baby. You've been this wet for me all night?”

“Y-yeah Sammy was hoping you’d come tonight to fuck me.” you confessed.

“That so?”

“Mhmm” you nodded.

You moaned, feeling yourself buckle, hand reaching out to grip his forearm as he toyed with the bundle of nerves, making slow, steady circles at your clit.

“S-sam-”

“Hush baby. Up we go now, there we go.” He picked you back up again, freeing himself from his boxers as he angled himself right where you wanted him. Where you needed him.

“You’re gonna shut up and take my cock now, like a pretty lil slut?”

“Please-”

The feeling was euphoric. He wasted no time, sliding into you with ease, your juices coating him. The two of you moaned pornagraphically, as he inched his way further, stretching you.

He was so big you felt him in your tummy, filling you up. Swallowing you whole.

“Thereee we go, atta girl. You’re so fuckin tight bunny fuck-” he growled, forehead leaning against yours, breathing heavly. As if he was trying to control himself.

“Sam- Sam g-god-” was all you could sputter as your nails dug into his biceps as he bottomed out.

“I can- can’t” you moaned, fluttering your eyes closed. He slowly slid out, thrusting bak in deeply. You groaned.

“Hey, eyes on me.” he commanded, gripping your chin. “You can take it baby, you’re doing so good. Taking my cock like a good lil girl yeah? Arent you sweetheart?”

His dirty talk had your brain completely shut off, the wires crackling, then sputtering out. It was as if your programming had suddenly flatlined, and all you could think was Sam. Sam sam sam sam.

“So vocal. Wished I fucked you sooner baby, best pussy I’ve ever had. Y’know that? Youre all dumb for me, brain dead.” he chuckled, watching drool trickle from the side of your mouth as you screamed his name, panting.

He watched your tits bounce, with that little spot of dried up blood as he thrusted into you, harder and harder, faster and faster until you thought you were a ragdoll about to be torn in half.

“M’gonna cum-” you squealed, and he nodded, as if to grant you permission. You milked him dry, screaming so loud your voice went hoarse.

Sam continued to ride you through it, hips never faltering. “There we go baby, did that feel good? M’ all up in your tummy, and I'm gonna fill you up, kay?” he cooed, forcing your attention back on him, on his heavy gaze and despite eyes.

“K-kay Sammy please-”

He smiled, kissing you as you moaned into his mouth, hot, white liquid coating your insides as he finished inside you. You could barely catch your breath as he kissed your forehead, and each cheek tenderly.

“Fuck bunny. You were so good. So, so good.” he sighed, hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from your cheek, plastered with sweat. You nodded softly, murmuring unintelligible words as he set you back down, holding your body as you tried to find your balance.

Your legs were shaking like a quivering newborn fawn as you gripped the side of the tree, letting your eyes drift close for no more than a second.

You could no longer feel a presence supporting your back. Sam was gone.

Out of sight, under the moonlight, as if he had disappeared into the trees without a trace.

Your head started to spin, and you felt the weight of the night slowly starting to crash down on you. “S-sam?”

“I’m so sorry it had to be this way angel.” was all you heard from behind you, before a force nicked your head so hard, the world went dark.

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

“She asleep?” a voice called, sounding like it was eons away.

Your eyes refused to open, and you felt something tied around your ankles and wrists, as you lay on your back. Two sets of eyes were on your dishevelled frame.

You didn't dare to open your eyes until they looked away, facing to the front of the vehicle. You felt two plastic masks placed where your feet lay.

Oh god. Oh fuck. You wanted to puke.

“Knocked right out. A sleeping beauty.” another called. Sam.

“Poor bunny.” a voice chuckled, whistling a tune as he turned down the volume dial, as if he was worried to wake you. Dean.

You quickly shut your eyes again, urging yourself to keep your breathing shallow and natural as Sam looked back at your resting frame, a sympathetic frown on his face.

“Night night bunny, sweet dreams.” he cooed, before you blacked out again, in the backseat of the Impala.

#sam winchester smut #sam winchester fic #sam winchester fanfiction #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #soulless sam #jared padalecki #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #dark fic #ghostface #supernatural fandom #jared paladecki #supernatural smut #supernatural sam winchester

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sp0o0kylights · 1 year ago

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Give meee: an Eddie who went into a small little bookshop on an Indie trip and stumbled across an in person fandom meeting.

It's mostly Star Trek, and also mostly women, but the stories they have are nothing like Eddie's ever read.

He's barely a teenager, and already protective of himself and his real identity--but everything he's ever wanted is written down, right here, on a little zine with Kirk and Spock doodled on the cover.

They’re not--it’s not obvious, that they’re what he is, but the story itself is blatant and Eddie ends up being so obviously close to tears, he accidentally outs himself without ever saying a word.

(He also ends up on the mailing list, then being sent home with several hand printed copies of all kinds of zines.)

Eddie would remain on this list well past his third senior year in high school.

Past bats, and Vecna and Steve fucking Harrington.

Flash forward to his first apartment.The tiny one he shares with Steve when they followed Nancy and Robin to college.

Steve knows Eddie’s gay.

Or rather, Steve has been told, but Eddie's still pretty clammed up about it. He's not yet where Robin is, ready to bemoan her loveless existence while draped over their crappy, thrifted couch.

He makes jokes and he flirts and he absolutely says things he shouldn't, but none of it is real.

It's flash. Showmanship.

It's the persona that yes, is him, but Eddie consciously built it. There’s nothing soft or gooey there, nothing anyone can use to hurt him.

So when he comes home and sees that plain, padded envelope with the neatly printed label on the counter, torn wide open and flat without its contents?

Eddie panics.

His heart thunders in his chest, vision tunneling as adrenaline kicks through him.

He wants to bolt-- should bolt--except ever since he almost died his brain no longer obeys him.

Not when it comes to running, anyway.

Instead it fights him to a standstill, freezing his feet right to the living room floor.

The urge is still there.

To run, and save face the cowards way.

Vanish before Steve could get at a part of him that had once kept Eddie out of Wayne’s trailer for two days, until the old man had hunted him down and made him come home, huffing about how he’d love Eddie no matter what but he better never disappear like that again.

(Which Eddie did anyway, and of everything that happened with Vecna, it’s that he regrets the most. The stories he heard of Wayne putting up posters. Squaring off with angry, too-righteous townies, and--)

A sniffle jerks him out of his thoughts.

Eddie gasps, entirely unsure of when he stopped breathing. Stumbles back and turns, right in time for Steve to come out of his room and amble down their hallway.

One hand rubs at his eyes, and the other is--the other has…

Eddie identifies the cheaply printed, stapled zine immediately. It's one he's wanted to read for a while now, solely because it features a story about Kirk and Spock being stuck in a cave together on a planet that has bat-like, vicious animals on it.

Kirk gets bitten after something goes wrong with the transporter and, look, it’s carthiatic okay!? Sue a guy for wanting to read a romance about a situation he identifies with!

Steve looks up from the zine and startles.

For a second his eyes go dark and flat, the same way Eddies and Robins and Nancy's and everyone's does when caught off guard.

It's gone in a flash though, Steve visibly relaxing when he clocks that it's just Eddie.

He keeps the zine pressed to his sweater clad chest, and huffs out a laugh that's half forced and half pure relief.

“Fuck Eds, you scared me! I didn’t know you could be quiet.”

“Uh huh.” Eddie manages, voice sounding totally and absolutely normal and not at all ten octaves higher than it usually is.

They stare at each other for a second. Long enough that Steve's eyebrows crinkle in the middle, which is the first hint that he’s beginning to worry, and Eddie really cannot handle Steve being worried right now.

“What's--” Eddie’s voice cracks and he coughs to recover. “what's that?”

Steve frowns at him for a moment, until Eddie gestures at the zine in his hands.

“Oh!”

Steve holds it up, as if to show it off.

“It's a little book Robin got in the mail. It has a bunch of stories in it. They're normally boring as fuck but this one's from Star Trek.”

Hearing the words ‘Star Trek’ out of Steve’s mouth shouldn’t be weird, not anymore, when Eddie and Dustin have been on a two man mission to nerdify Harrington as much as possible, but it still kicks like a mule to hear him say such things without any prompting.

“You know what Star Trek is?”

“Eddie,” Steve tuts, tongue clicking in his mouth. “everyone knows what Star Trek is. It’s nerd shit, but like, old nerd shit. My grandparents used to watch it when I stayed over. This?”

He shakes the zine, so hard Eddie wants to snatch it away from him.

“This isn't nerd shit. This is excellent.”

Steve gives the zine an appreciative glance and hell, maybe Eddie accidentally walked into another dimension.

He’s been trying to get Steve to read more, rediscover the joys of books the public school system does its best to destroy, but until now Steve hasn’t really taken to it.

Enjoys when Eddie reads aloud sometimes, and has started to bug Robin to do it for him too, but otherwise?

Eddie’s nerve seen him with anything that had the written word on it that wasn’t a cooking or car related magazine.

“Honestly,” Steve’s saying, “I think Robs fucked up, this isn't her style at all. She’s gonna be pissed.”

He eyes the thing appreciatively, like the gift it is.

“I'm stealing it the second she figures that out.” He adds decisively.

“You like it?” Eddie asks.

“Mmm.”

“Even though it's--it's got…Kirk…”

Steve's frowning at him again. “What?”

“It's queer man. It's really queer.”

Steve peers at him, the crinkle back in his eyebrows.

“I know. Wait, how do you--”

And well. It’s now or never.

“It's mine.” Eddie says in a rush.

“No it's not.” Steve scoffs, and okay, maybe this is a dream. Eddie pinched himself twice already, but perhaps a third time would wake him up?

(It does not.)

“it was even addressed to Robin. Well,” Steve has one hand on a hip now, his default position when arguing, “Robbie, but she goes by that sometimes.”

Which Robin does, but not in the fucking mail.

Without a word, Eddie turns and goes for the envelope the zine came in.

Steve follows, invading Eddie’s space to peer over his shoulder (and that’s Eddie’s fault too, that closeness, but he didn’t think it would be turned on him in a moment like this--)

There's a sticker on the envelope’s label.

It’s barely hanging on, half of it curled into the air. Round and yellow, with little black lines, it becomes immediately obvious that one of Robin's smiley face stickers has migrated again.

They're all over the apartment. Remnants of a phase she went through after she stole a roll of them from her and Steve’s job at a local toy store.

This one had clearly jumped ship from its original spot (likely on the ceiling somewhere), and was now firmly over the E in Eddie's name.

‘Ddie’ still isn't exactly ‘Obbie’ but--

Steve leans around, snatching the envelope up and bringing it close to his face.

Far too close, like he can't read it, eyes squinting as he examines the label--and suddenly Eddie knows exactly what happened.

He laughs, an explosion of noise that's half hysterical and half disbelief.

Steve looks at him.

“What?”

“Oh my God,” Eddie says, one finger jabbing in the air in the vague direction of Steve’s nose. “I told you you needed glasses!”

“I do not!” Steve protests immediately, but his eyes are darting around the envelope.

He’s scrambling to figure out what Eddie’s seeing, trying desperately to find a hole that can prove himself right.

Eddie decides to help him, by plucking the smiley sticker off the envelope.

“See?” He jeers, and shit okay, maybe his life isn’t over just yet. “It says Eddie, not Robbie!”

“You guys have got to start using your government names for this shit.” Steve bitches, but it’s weak.

Eddie feels a grin coming on, and lets it overtake his face.

“So...Kirk and Spock huh?”

“They’re cute.” Steve defends instantly, before sighing his defeat and tossing the envelope on the table.

The zine he keeps in his hands.

Eddie crosses his arms and leans against their rickety table. “Even though they’re both guys?”

“I thought we were past this!” Steve whines. “I went to a gay bar with Robin last weekend!”

Which is news to Eddie.

“You didn’t invite me?” He gasps, feigning hurt by putting a hand over his heart.

Truthfully he still hasn’t fully recovered--is play acting himself, almost, but is rapidly coming around to the idea of Steve appreciating queer fanfiction.

“We did!” Steve rolls his eyes so dramatically his whole head moves. “We absolutely did, You said,”

Here Steve’s voice pitches into a mockery of Eddie’s that he will not give him points for, even if it is a little hilarious, “Me? At some loser bar? Fuck no, I’ve got a campaign to write. Starbuck, don’t you have homework?”

“I didn’t know that was a gay bar!”

“You did! Robin told you!”

“Okay well, I wasn’t listening!”

“Clearly. I keep telling you we need a fucking--system or, I don’t know, a code word or something!”

“Yeah well, when you wanna make us a safe word for conversations, big boy, you let me know.”

They’re both laughing a little now, this argument veering into familiar territory, with Eddie not really listening and Steve mocking him for it later. (As well as vice versa, with startling regularity.)

“You really like it though?” Eddie says after the laughter winds down, gesturing to the zine still clutched in Steve’s hand.

“Yeah.” Steve confirms, easy as he’s said anything else. Like this isn’t embarrassing, or almost worse than the time Wayne found Eddie’s porno mags and alphabetized them as a joke.

“It's part of a mail tree. I’m supposed to send it on to the next person when I’m done with it. I make copies though,” Eddie rushes to add, because Steve is now clutching the little booklet to his chest in horror, as if Eddie was about to rip it out of his hands. “If you like I’ll show you my other ones?”

Steve eases his grip, giving Eddie the little smile he makes that makes his stomach flip.

“That’d be cool.”

(Later, Steve pokes at Eddie’s thigh from where they’re both sprawled on Eddie’s bed, Steve having switched the new zine out for one of Eddie’s copies. “Are you going to laugh at me if I ask you to read some of these aloud?”

“Only if you don’t laugh when I ask you to take me to that gay bar.”

“Deal, but on the grounds you’re barred from making fun of my flirting attempts. Robin doing it was bad enough.”

“Well you deserve it if you’re hitting on women at a gay bar, Stevie.”

“I wasn't hitting on women you asshole.” Steve says and oh.

Oh.

Eddie feels the floor drop out from under him for the second time that day.

At least this time it’s not fear that thunders through him, but possibility.)

#steddie #pre steddie #eddie reads star trek slash fiction #kirk/spock #mentioned anyway lol #Steve Harringtons Terrible Fucking Eyesight #(me too buddy me too)#steve harrington #eddie munson #zines #0o0 fanfics #stranger things

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kyeomofhearts · 1 year ago

Text

Back For More | J.WW

+ summary: while adjusting to your new life in college, you couldn't help but attract the attention of wonwoo, someone who you happen to have a history with.

+ pairing: badboy!wonwoo x fem!reader

+ word count: 2.7k

+ content: badboy!wonwoo, college au, mature language, flirting (wonwoo is a menace), jealousy. [pls let me know if i missed anything!]

[ᝰ.ᐟ] i hope you guys enjoy this! it's most likely going to be a two-parter so definitely let me know if you want to be added to my taglist! i would greatly appreciate it if you guys reblogged (maybe with comments too ^^) since i thrive on your guys' validation :)

You were tired, very tired.

Granted, this was your own doing. Maybe if you hadn't pushed your responsibilities to the side last night you wouldn't have had to wake up so early to study for an exam, but what's done is done. This whole college thing was not going so well, to say the least. Sure, it's only the beginning of the second semester, but you already feel exhausted by all of your class workloads.

Just ten more minutes of this boring lecture and you could finally go home and crawl into bed. But… that's only if you avoid him today. Which now that you’re thinking about it, you hope he isn’t waiting for you outside, again. That would be the last thing you needed today.

With that being said, things have felt a little weird if you were being honest. Of course, this was your first year of university, so things were bound to feel new and different. But there was something, or rather someone that was making you feel strange.

Around two weeks ago you noticed that Wonwoo, an old classmate of yours, had recently started to become a bit friendly towards you. While that normally wouldn’t be considered weird, you couldn’t help but feel skeptical about his intentions. You knew the kind of people he surrounded himself with, and especially the girls he would go after; which was the exact opposite of you. So what exactly did he want from you?

What also makes this situation more odd is that you’ve basically known Wonwoo for your whole life. Of course, you don’t actually know him, you just happened to go to the same elementary, middle, and high school (which is insane if you think about it). Acquaintance is a perfect word to describe your relationship with him, nothing more nothing less. So yeah… it’s a little weird when the guy you have been around for (almost) your whole life is suddenly trying to befriend you, there definitely had to be something wrong with him.

All you knew about Wonwoo was that he was on the more reserved and quiet side; mainly keeping to himself most of the time. His group of friends was quite the opposite of him, which always made you wonder how he even became friends with them in the first place.

Seeing how the lecture was ending soon, you started to pack your stuff; you were more than ready to dash straight out of the classroom. Having finished all of your assignments for today, you had nothing left to worry about. So once the professor had made her goodbyes, you made a straight beeline to the door, nothing was going to hold you back from your long-awaited nap. Your pace was brisk, attempting to avoid the backed-up main exit, you decided to go to the opposite door. The walk back to your apartment wasn’t too bad either, most of the time you saw it as a way to daydream and listen to music. So while you scrolled through your various playlists, you happened to miss the (very obvious) figure following you.

Wonwoo called out your name a few times until it finally dawned on him that you had your headphones on. He took a few long strides to catch up to you; he was very adamant on getting your attention this morning. With ease, he quickly plucked your headphones off of your head.

“What are we listening to today?” He said while adjusting the headphones on his head. It took you a second to fully process what he was doing. You knew he was doing it to provoke you, but you were determined to not let that happen today. So to his surprise, you simply kept walking. You figured that he would continue with his antics if you gave him the reaction that he wanted so you did the opposite, you ignored him.

What shocked him the most was seeing you pull out an old pair of earbuds and plugging them into your phone. He was dumbfounded to say the least, how were you so prepared and why were you ignoring him?

And again, he quickly caught up with a few simple steps. He took your headphones off of his head and tapped them against your shoulder.

With a tired sigh, you turned around to face him but couldn’t help but admire his face. You really didn't want to lose that ‘expressionless’ look you were going for (to help you ignore him of course), but that small smile of his was enough to crack you down. It's like he knew that it was your one weakness when it came to him. This was the most annoying part of it all. Anytime he smiled or looked at you, a tiny part inside you secretly liked it, making you crave his attention at times.

Objectively speaking, Wonwoo was very handsome. That was something you could never deny, you would even go as far as to say that he was your type but you didn't particularly like the people he called his ‘friends’ so you were stuck in a weird limbo.

“Is there something on my face, birdy?”

You scoffed at the nickname. “I told you not to call me that.”

Wonwoo’s eyes were looking straight into yours, a smirk slowly creeping up to his lips. It didn't help that he was looking really good today either, his messy hair combined with the whole biker fit did wonders for your eyes. He was about to say something before you heard your ringtone go off, evidently cutting him off.

Oh.

It was Hyunwoo. That's odd... you finished your shared project with him rather early, what could he be calling you about? Either way, you answered the random call in front of a rather annoyed Wonwoo.

"Hello?"

"Heyyy yn, I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch later today?" You couldn't help but feel your eyes widen at his sudden question. Since when did he want to hang out with you? Last time you checked he had a plethora of girls that he was talking to... maybe he was interested in you? No, you shouldn't get too ahead of yourself...

"Um... let me check if I have anything to do first. Can I call you back?" You knew that you sounded nervous but how else were you supposed to feel when the cute guy from your physics class was literally asking you to eat lunch with him?

As soon as you ended the call, you felt Wonwoo's arm snake its way down to your waist. You couldn’t help but yelp at the sudden intimate contact. Chuckling at your reaction, he leaned down, closer to your ear. “Who was that?”

"No one." You stated simply, it wasn't his business anyway.

"Hm, okay," Wonwoo rested his head on your shoulder, continuing to speak lowly in your ear. "I'll remember that birdy."

Before you could even come up with something to counter him, he decided to speak up once again.

"Well, I do have something rather important to tell you." His voice was so calm and soothing, you could honestly listen to it for hours on end if you had the chance.

"What is it?" You hoped he couldn't sense your rather, embarrassing, curiosity.

"Heard you used to have a little crush on me," his voice was evidently smug, knowing that this would surely get a rise out of you.

Which it did.

Your face burned at the memories of when you used to have a crush on Wonwoo. But, that had to be in fourth grade… so how could he have known about that? Nonetheless, you scoffed at his statement, not wanting to know that you were a little embarrassed by the sudden reminder.

“Key word, had,” you rolled your eyes at him. This did make you curious though, who could have possibly told him that? So you asked him exactly that.

“How do you even know about that?” His smile never faltered even as you lightly pushed his hand away from your waist. If anything, this made him want to touch you even more.

“I have my ways,” he stated simply. Of course, he does. You hated when he would shrug things off, now this was going to bother you for the entire week!

One thing about Wonwoo was that he has always been curious about you, this interest stemming back all the way to your elementary days. This curiosity eventually intensified in junior year of high school when you began to show your blatant distaste towards him. He just had to get to know you.

He looked down at you, his face was unreadable like always. You never knew what was going on in that mind of his.

"Why are you here? Shouldn't you be hanging out with your actual friends?" Sometimes you couldn't help but blurt out your thoughts to him even if they sounded a bit rude. His face faltered for a split second, probably caught off guard by the random question. Shoot, you really didn’t mean to say that out loud. Although, it looks like Wonwoo didn’t take any offense to your sudden question. If anything, it made him... smile?

“I am hanging out with my friend,” he stopped you to face him, “which is you.” You rolled your eyes at him. That had to be the corniest thing he has ever said to you if you were being honest. You just hated that giddy feeling he would give you any time he said something remotely cheesy.

"Ugh, you're so dumb," you groaned while checking the time on your phone. It was getting close to noon and you hadn't responded to Hyunwoo's question from earlier. Maybe it was best if you didn't go... who knows what he wanted from you. If you were being completely honest, you didn't know if you had it in you to see other people at the moment, aside from Wonwoo of course.

"Have somewhere to be?" Wonwoo asked, a hint of concern peeking through his voice.

"No, thank god, but I do have a scheduled nap to get to so if you don't mind-" you were cut off by the sound of an engine revving, making your body jump at the unexpected noise. You turned to see where the source of the commotion was coming from but then realized it was coming from a group of bikers nearby; most likely Wonwoo's friends.

Or so you thought?

Wonwoo didn't seem too pleased with the group that was getting closer to where the two of you were. On the contrary, Wonwoo looked pissed. His jaw was visibly clenched, the gentle grip he had on your waist tightened, and his eyes lost that playful spark he had earlier. You couldn't help but feel guilty for thinking about how hot Wonwoo looked when he was angry. Of course, you would never want to be on the receiving end of his anger but seeing it on the sidelines was quite... interesting.

Wait. This might actually be serious, so it's best if you leave before anything crazy happens.

"I think I'm going to head out now..." you said quietly as you tried to slip away from Wonwoo's (awfully) strong grasp.

He turned to look at you, his eyes softening once they landed on your figure. Why did they have to come and bother him at this exact moment? He knew that whatever was going to happen was not going to be pretty, but he found himself reluctant to let you go.

Before truly letting you go, he quietly asked, "Are you sure? I can take you home if you want me to." As soft as his voice was, he still managed to sound composed which was comforting considering the situation.

You nodded in response, "I don't live that far from here so it's fine, thank you for the offer though." You managed to flash him a small, awkward smile before turning away from him and heading toward the direction of your apartment. You didn't know what exactly was going on between those guys and Wonwoo but it for sure wasn't friendly. Although it wasn't exactly your issue, you couldn't help but feel worried about Wonwoo, even if he was a pain in the ass sometimes.

Much to your dismay, that scheduled nap never came your way that day.

You blame Wonwoo, how were you supposed to sleep peacefully knowing he was probably getting jumped? Okay, you might be jumping to conclusions but what else were you supposed to think about when he was visibly angry at the mere sight of those guys?

Realistically speaking, it's only been two days since that whole incident happened. Granted, you haven't seen Wonwoo since then but that could mean a lot of things.

[...]

While you were in line to get a smoothie from one of the pop-up shops near the campus, you felt a sudden tap on your shoulder.

"Did my little birdy miss me?" You felt Wonwoo say right next to your ear, his breath fanning across your earlobe. It sent a wave of tingles down your spine, making you shudder in turn. Though you weren't a fan of his spontaneous appearance.

"God, you need to stop doing that! I almost slapped you I swear-" You stopped mid-way once you turned around and saw his face. He had a few cuts on his lips and eyebrows and one big bruise across his cheek. Those guys really did a number on him.

Your eyebrows furrowed in concern, "are you okay?"

He tried to wave it off but you could tell he was bothered by your question, "It's fine, really, don't worry about it." Was he insane? How were you not going to worry when he was visibly injured?

"Were these from the guys on Tuesday?" You couldn't help but ask, where else would he get these cuts and bruises if it didn't come from them?

His demeanor immediately switched and he pushed himself away from you.

"It's none of your business so stay out of it."

"Okay." That was the only thing you said before grabbing your smoothie from the worker and quickly walking away from the shop. If he wanted to be like that then so be it. You most definitely were not going to wait for him to 'open up' by all means, he could throw himself a pity party for all you care.

"Wait-" He tried reaching for your arm but you were too quick for him. Your steps were swift, helping you create a reasonable distance between you and Wonwoo. He called out your name a few times before giving up, he didn't want to gather any unwanted attention from the people nearby. Reaching your pace, Wonwoo was finally close enough to grab your wrist and make you look at him.

"Are you seriously ignoring me?" His voice was a bit jagged, no doubt coming from the unexpected cardio you made him do to catch up to you.

Unfortunately for him, you were petty. "You said it wasn't my business, so please do not talk to me because I really do not care." You brushed past him once again this time making sure he could not grab your arms or wrists.

He exhaled in annoyance, "Look I'm sorry-" Wonwoo was mid-apology before being abruptly cut off by the voice of a guy yelling your name out loud.

Speaking of the devil, what immaculate timing.

"Hey yn! Did you still want to get food after class?" Hyunwoo jogged to where you were standing but saw how Wonwoo was still trying to talk to you.

"Sorry, were you busy with him?"

You instantly responded to Hyunwoo, "No, he was just asking for directions, but yeah I'm down for food." Like before, you made your way towards Hyunwoo, making sure to bump into Wonwoo. He couldn't help but stay frozen in place as he watched you walk to class with some random guy, jealousy slowly invading his mind.

Directions? Did she really...?

As much as Wonwoo wanted to be mad at you, he really had no one to blame but himself. The whole situation with his old group of 'friends' was really getting to him so once you popped that question it just seemed to send him over the edge. He just didn't know how far you would go to express your annoyance towards him. Now all he had to do was find a way to properly apologize to you before that Hyunwoo guy got to you first.

The only thing stopping him? He didn't have your number or any of your socials...

[Part Two: II]

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hellfire--cult · 1 month ago

Note

No but I need all the fuckboy eddie thots 😩

oh sarah, i have all the thots

+18 - like for example, when you and fuckboy!eddie met for the first time. (prev eddie thot) - smut incoming btw, p in v, oral, all that

It was a party you weren't sure who was hosting. A normal summer night away from they typical bars and same group of people you hung out with every weekend. You met a new person while grocery shopping, someone you think you've heard of before, but you moved to Hawkins just a year ago, so you couldn't be sure.

Steve Harrington seemed nice, handsome, big hazel eyes that showed desperate need of attention, of someone to hold him and reassure him that he is an amazing guy and all that. You tried to grab the same kind of beans, fingers brushing with yours like it would happen in a romantic comedy, only that you really wanted to fuck him the moment you connected eyes with his.

He asked for your name and if you had been in Hawkins for long because he had never seen 'Such a pretty face' before in this town. Cliche lines, but that made it way easier. So before paying, he asked for your number and then invited you to a party he was going to with some friends that weekend and you could bring anyone you wanted.

So there you were, but no Steve Harrington to be seen.

Nursing a drink by yourself in the corner of the living room, all the guys playing beer pong while some girls danced on the side. It looked like a high school party, and you were already in your 20's. Your patience was thinning because you were expecting to get laid tonight, and now your friend was nowhere near you.

Until you took your pack of cigarettes out of your pocket and started walking to the backyard that you spotted Steve making out with your friend in the kitchen. You groaned loudly, because you couldn't blame your friend. You explained Steve's looks to her, but there were many brown haired guys around, and you didn't spot Steve until this very moment, so you couldn't have introduced them.

You defeatedly walked to the backyard, already pissed that you were the one going home with a dry pussy. You put a cigarette up your lips only to not find your lighter anywhere, cursing through the stick, only to then have a flame lit up in front of you. Your eyes found sharp brown ones.

"Need a light?" His voice was hoarse, cheeky, a dimpled smile that could knock someone over. He had long hair, not exactly the type you always went for, but it looked good on him. He was definitely a metal head, just by looking at the get up and the accessories. All black, metal belt and chains hanging from his hips, leather jacket, a V-Cut shirt underneath and a red pick necklace adorning his collarbone.

And the glimpse of a tattoo coming out of the side of the collar, right on his left pec.

You slowly batted your eyelashes to him, leaning to light the cigarette with his help. You took a deep breath in as he lit his own cancer stick, taking a swig of it. You both exhaled the smoke at the same time before you talked.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it, sweetheart." Oh, petnames. You were definitely into that. "So, what's with the angry look?"

Should you lie? What kind of story would you perform for the guy you just met in front of you?

"Well, my friend is definitely making out with the guy who invited me to this party, so." You pretended to be hurt, not angry. Pretended that your ego was crushed and you were basically a damsel in distress with a pouty lip. His grin widened, his eyebrows falling on the edges in a 'sad' frown.

"Aw, poor baby. That's not cool of your friend, or that guy."

"It's fine, it's whatever. I met him once but--" You gave a shrug as he bit his lip and you noticed the people around you looking every once in a while. They knew this guy. Interesting.

"Well, I would be delighted, if you'd like, to spend the night with you while you wait for your friend to be done." He offered, and oh, you would be the delighted one by the end of it. You gave him a sweet smile, a bat of your eyelashes and you nodded. "I'm Eddie, by the way."

You gave him your name and you learnt that he had lived in Hawkins for a long while. Then you commented on his clothes and you were right when you said he was a metalhead. He excused himself for a second to get you two a drink and waltzed back inside. You finished your cigarette and a girl approached you with a guy on her arm.

"Damn, don't get attached to a guy like that girl." And as she left, you could already guess what that meant. People had said the same shit about you. It wasn't your fault that people got clingy after fucking more than twice. It wasn't your fault so many guys had mommy issues. And that girl was obviously an Ex-Hook Up of his. No woman would give out a comment like that for nothing.

This was going to be way more entertaining than Steve Harrington.

When he came back, you continued your sweet act. That carefree girl that giggled at everything, and you wondered if this man would be the same as the others. Would he get clingy? No. He didn't look the type, and if his reputation was the same as yours, then you knew he was just there for fun.

So it didn't take long for him to get you in the back of his van in the middle of the woods, far from the residencies. His van smelled of weed, leather, and some cheap ass air freshener. But you didn't really care for it. Not when this man was finger fucking you into another galaxy.

"Sweet girl..." He moaned into your neck, his upper body naked for you to see. It had three tattoos, one of the left pec just like you've spotted, one on his ribcage on the right side, then another in the left. His arms were littered in them and you wondered if his legs were the same.

You were entirely naked, letting him scan your body, letting him pretend he was dominant of the situation as you got vulnerable for him. He was all dressed still as you spread your legs for him and he moaned at the sight of you. In the palm of your fucking hand.

You weren't prepared for his fingers to be this good, until he went down and started eating you out, talking into your pussy when you asked how was he doing that.

"I play the guitar... And I sing too." And he proved that by swirling his tongue on your clit. You could count with the fingers of a single hand the times a man went down willingly on you. And you had a big body count.

He made you see stars two times, and then it was your turn. You were desperate that night to see his cock, and he didn't disappoint. He was blessed, to say the least. His legs had some tattoos, and you made sure to kiss them and trace your tongue all over them as his hand ran through your hair.

When you put his cock in your mouth and moaned, his head went back with a groan and an amused chuckle as you started bobbing your head, making the sounds louder on purpose, spitting at the tip of his dick and dipping the tip of your tongue into the head of it.

"Damn, you aren't that innocent, huh?" Understatement of the year, pretty boy.

And then when he was finally inside, he fucked methodically but desperate at the same time. He knew when to roll his hips into you slowly and when to start slamming into you like a madman.

"Eddie-- Eddie--" He was forcing you to look at him as the van moved from side to side, shaking at his movements, his cock going in and out of your leaking cunt. His hand was gripping your chin tightly, his eyes boring into yours as he breathed heavily through his nose, in harsh huffs.

"Say my name again, say it again." And you did. You did until you both came. You were amazed about how easily he made you cum three times in a single night and fuck do you want to experience it again, but you had to test the waters.

So when he was driving back to the party so you could find your friend and leave, you bit your lip, looking at him.

"Well, this was nice Eddie. Thank you for spending the night with me." You moved to open the passenger's door until his hand came to rub onto your cheek to make you look at him.

"Give me your number and we can repeat it again, whenever you like. I loved having a sweet thing like you tonight for myself." You gave him a shy smile, and he was smirking at you, licking the inside of the bottom of his lip. "Come on..."

"Alright." He gave you a kiss on your pulse point once you handed him the little piece of paper with your number on it.

Sucker.

#and i oop #mORE THOTS FOR FUCKBOY!EDDIE #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fics #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #but also #fuckgirl!reader #right #fuckboy!eddie munson

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darlingghoulette · 4 months ago

Text

walked in and dream-came-trued it for ya'

Summary: You come across a fun surprise on a supply run and decisions are made to “spice things up” in the bedroom for you and Joel. You fuck about it. That’s the fic. Rated E.

Content tags: crack treated seriously for porny reasons, established relationship, Jackson!Joel, afab!reader, reader has a vagina, no other physical descriptions of reader, no use of y/n, brief discussion of body insecurity, pussy play, pussy pronouns, finger sucking, oral, unprotected p in v, Joel talks you through it because of course he does, excessive use of contractions because Joel is Southern and so am I, ambiguous reader age–she was alive before Outbreak Day so you can do the math however you’d like. I’d still say she’s younger than Joel because the demons in my soul command me to write Older Man Smut.

Author’s note: this started as a conversation about having a majestic bush in the apocalypse and spiraled into an excuse to write smut. While this is hot, I 100% believe that Joel would want his girl all natural as the good lord intended, but hey, pussy is pussy. Just wanna say: your body is your own, fuck patriarchal standards for body hair. This is just for a lil fun.

Read on AO3

It starts as a joke.

You’re clearing an old beauty store on patrol, some old chain business that used to peddle expensive makeup and a million different types of skin care that all essentially do the same thing. It’s not the normal kind of place to look for supplies, but if there was anything you’d learned living through the apocalypse, it was to be resourceful.

You and Maria had already found a decent haul. Shampoo, acetone, disposable applicators that could be used at the clinic. And no infected growing into the walls to be seen. So far, at least.

All in all, the mood was pretty high. Maria doesn’t patrol much, especially after having the baby, and a calm, successful trip outside of the walls was a welcome one. She’s not technically your sister-in-law, seeing as you and Joel aren’t married, but she’s the closest thing you’ve had to a best friend and sister since the end of the world.

You’re trading lighthearted conversation as you browse the aisles, nearly ready to call it a day when you see it.

A medium sized box, dented and dusty. One of those wax melting kits, a little pot with tiny beads of brightly colored wax pellets. You’re already kneeling down to see if all the pieces are still intact when Maria ducks around the corner.

“All set?” she asks, shooting you an amused look while you dig excitedly into the box.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen one of these?”

The packaging has certainly seen better days, and the wax beads aren’t nearly as vibrant as they probably once were, but surely wax doesn’t go bad, right? For her part, Maria is regarding the contents warily.

“Can’t say I’ve had the time to get a wax in the past, hm, twenty years or so. So, probably about that long.”

It’s almost strange to think about how little things like body hair used to be a huge deal Before. You can remember the first time in middle school you felt embarrassed about how all your friends shaved their legs and you weren’t allowed to. Before you even realized it was just a commonly accepted societal norm and not worth the huge drag out with your mom who had bigger things on her plate than her kid’s race to puberty.

Stupid shit like that stopped being important…well, ever, if you think about it, society’s expectations were bullshit and patriarchal by design–but especially after the world ended.

“We should try it.” you joke, even though something about the idea is actually tempting.

“I’m alright, thanks.”

“Come on,” You’re already imagining wrangling it into your saddlebags. “It could be fun! The guys are out helping with the dam maintenance until tomorrow, we could have a girls night! Movies, wine, torture for the sake of beauty. The full ritual, you know?”

“I’m with you for the rest of it, but I’ve made peace with my legs how they are.” You hadn’t necessarily had your legs in mind.

Maria, genius that she is, correctly interprets the wicked grin curling your lips up slowly without you even having to say anything.

She snorts, amused, but in a way that’s absolutely laughing at you instead of with you. She’s good at that. “No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” you defend, but she’s already shaking her head.

“I’m not taking you to the clinic after you rip off something important giving yourself a Brazilian with a 20 year old kit.”

It’s your turn to roll your eyes at her. “Now who’s being dramatic? It’s not a rusty razor blade. It’s wax, Maria. I’ve just…you know. Never done that, even Before. And I’m sure it would be even safer with more hands helping…”

“Ask someone else then.”

“Like who? You’re the only person I’d trust. And really the only person I have besides the 15 year old whose dad I’m currently seeing, and we just got her to the point of somewhat tolerating our relationship, I’d really rather not jeopardize that.”

The image of what a disaster that would be makes you both laugh, but there’s enough truth in the statement that you feel a twist of embarrassment at even the thought. Absolutely not.

“Besides,” you say, faux-innocence dripping from your tone. “Might be a fun surprise for Tommy. Spice things up after the baby?”

The look Maria directs at you is flat and unimpressed, but you can tell she’s not actually annoyed. In fact, there’s a glimmer of something sharp in her eye that tells you she might actually be entertaining the idea. “We don’t need things spiced up, we’re doing just fine, thank you.”

Your nose wrinkles a little at that, you may have brought it up first, but that’s your not-brother-in-law she’s talking about fucking–

“But,” she continues on before your face interrupts her anymore. For a few beats, anticipation hangs heavy between you in the dilapidated store.

“But?”

The pursed seal of her lips eases into a grin, mischievous and matching your own.

“But it might be fun to see the stuck dumb look on his face if I sprung this on him.”

You let out a sharp bark of laughter, imagining your own Miller with a similar reaction. Yeah, this thing is definitely coming home with you. Just in case, you know?

*****

For the millionth time in the last hour, you shift awkwardly on the couch.

It’s the next day after your patrol shift with Maria. The ensuing girls night you’d had turned into more of a get tipsy on the Bison’s good whiskey and goof the hell off night. It was good to see your friend so relaxed, you thought, she stayed so busy and stressed keeping the town safe and secure. A rare cutting loose was called for..

It just so happened that the liquor in your system also made the mysterious box you smuggled from the supply run a whole lot more appealing.

It was a whole ordeal, including cursing, awkward stops and starts, and more drinks than was probably smart for people your age. Thankfully, Maria was more familiar with the whole process and did most of the legwork. Not the most comfortable or glamorous passtime, and you got to know each other in ways that you certainly hadn’t expected, but the results at the end…

You cross your legs again, the sensation of your clothes on bare skin is novel when you change positions. It was stupid, and way more painful than you’d expected. Something fueled by drunk decisions and committing to the bit for laughs, but you can’t deny…it feels kind of nice? Different. But nice.

Still, in the light of day, a new anxiety is popping out after your rash choice to go all beauty-school dropout.

The sun has sunk deep into the mountains, throwing those picturesque oranges and pinks across the Wyoming sky.

Joel’s due home from his overnight trip to the dam any time now.

Leftovers you’d snagged from the dining hall are keeping warm for him in the oven. There were no dishes to wash since you’d chosen to spare him the fate of choking down something you’d thrown together. (And he would have, the kind hearted fool. You’re not the best cook, but he insists on eating whatever you make while you attempt to learn.)

The book you’re reading hasn’t progressed a single page, you keep picking it up and putting it down without retaining anything, your mind too caught up in its spiral.

What if he hates it?

Of course, it’s a stupid thought. You know he’s not the kind of person who would judge you for something small like this. Sure, it’s not how he’s seen you since you both got together. But some guys go crazy for this, right? It used to be the preferred style for some people, back in the day. Even if it’s not his, it’s just fucking hair. It’ll grow back. He’s told you over and over that he’d love you no matter how you looked, and more than that his actions speak for himself. He’s literally seen you crouched over a toilet and ralphing your guts out. He’s seen you at every worst you’ve had in the last five years and is still there. In comparison, this is such a laughable insecurity.

What if he thinks exactly that, though? It’s not a dealbreaker, but what if he laughs at you, what if he thinks it’s stupid and childish and you’re trying too hard, what if he hates it, or what if–

The sound of the front door opening interrupts your–admittedly silly–crashout.

“Baby?” he calls out from where you can hear him shucking off his work boots, starting the familiar routine of sloughing off the outside world for the comforts of home.

“Living room!”

Before you can quite go back to riling yourself up, he’s behind you, curling down over the back of the couch to kiss you hello on the slope of your neck. Your head leans backwards, craning up at him above you.

His presence is like a balm, you can feel the smile growing on your lips while you take in the soft look he’s gifting you in return.

He’s ruffled, hair a mess from the blowing wind outside; the scent of horse and woodsmoke and sweat rolling off of him. It never fails that fresh-off-work Joel just drives you absolutely up a wall. There’s something so masculine and protective and natural about him when he comes home like this that makes you want to just jump his bones as soon as he walks in the door some days.

Today’s no different.

“Have a good weekend, darlin’?” He’s leaned down further now, grunting just a little at the probable murder its doing on his back, to kiss you on the forehead. It makes you huff a soft breath of a laugh out of your nose.

“Better now, but yeah, it was pretty good. Dinner’s in the oven.” you hum, watching him straighten back up and start shedding his coat. “If you wanna take a shower first, I’ll get you a plate.”

He kisses you again in thanks, a soft peck to your temple, a large palm coming to cradle your jaw briefly to press you into the contact. It’s intimate despite being so tame, a gesture that makes something deep in your bones melt better than any on-TV passionate romcom kiss ever could. This is real and warm, and makes you feel incredibly silly recalling your anxiety from just a couple minutes ago.

*****

It’s only after you’re both set up at the kitchen table that the anxiety and anticipation begins to creep back in, Joel fresh from his shower in sweatpants, you with your feet propped in his lap with a cup of tea while he eats his late dinner.

He’s telling you about the maintenance at the dam, how the group of workers had a disagreement on how to set up the factory to better prepare for the Spring storms that’ll move through soon. And you’re listening, really, you are. Nodding along when it’s needed, adding commentary when the conversation lulls. It’s just…

You can’t help shifting in your seat occasionally, or shooting him quick glances, wondering about his reaction. It’s getting you all twisted up again, and you’re trying to decide when will be the best time to bring it up. You’re nearly bursting with it, ready to pop and just get it over with already and–

“Alright,” Joel sets down his fork. “What’d she do?”

You blink, brought short by the sudden change in conversation. “Huh?”

“What’d she do?”

“I’m not following.”

Joel looks at you, a deadpan expression on his face, one brow raised and–Oh, no, that’s his dad detective face.

“You’re over there squirmin’ like a sinner in church and you can barely meet my eye. If it was something you did, you’d have broken by now because you can’t keep a secret for shit. Which brings me to thinkin’ Ellie pulled some kinda fool stunt and you’re trying like hell to cover for her.” he says, the corner of his mouth pulling up into an amused and exasperated expression. “I went by the garage first thing when I got back into town and didn’t notice anything, but she’s gettin’ better at being a normal sneaky teenager. So, what’d I miss?”

You can’t help it, that breaks you. You laugh, spine uncurling from its ramrod position. He always finds a way to break you out of your spiral. Even if he’s a little off the money, there’s something about the fact that he’s so attentive to your moods that releases the balloon of tension that’d been growing in your chest for most of the day.

During your giggle fit, Joel just smiles at you, pleased to have unfurled the little wrinkle you get between your brows when you’re really stewing on something. The meal mostly done and forgotten, his hands move to massage your socked feet in his lap, tugging playfully.

“Nothing happened, but it’s cute how you think you could get me to snitch on her,” You snicker, kicking one foot out to gently bump into his stomach. “She knows where I sleep and I’m more scared of her than I am of you.”

He laughs, mumbling a that’s probably smart under his breath before trying to weasel more answers out of you.

“Alright, if it ain’t that, then what is it?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” you sniff.

“Baby.”

His tone is low and coaxing, only meant to prompt the issue out of you, but it has the effect of kindling embers in your stomach. He sits there with his broad shoulders and tousled curls fresh from the shower, hands doing magic on the muscles of your feet, oblivious for all the world that he’s just about the most attractive image of a man you’ve ever seen in your life.

You sink a little further into your chair, using the foot that’s not currently in his grasp to rub along his thigh. Something in his eyes immediately darkens.

“It’s a surprise.”

Taking the opportunity where it’s given, his hand slips further up your calf, fingers just barely brushing the tender skin at the crook of your knee, fully exposed for him in the pajama shorts you’re sporting.

“Don’t gotta surprise me, don’t need nothin’. Got everything I want right here.”

You grin. “What if I’m part of the surprise?”

He was already looking at you before, but the way his eyes rake over you now? It’s heavy, taking you in like the only water in a desert. As much as his gaze feels like a physical thing, you’d much prefer his hands. It’s that want that has you lining up the final shot.

“I mean, unless you’re too tired from your trip. That would be fine, honest, it can wait until–”

You’re cut off with a delighted shriek when he stands and snatches you up from your chair, leftovers forgotten on the table as a problem for tomorrow.

Head still spinning from the rapid change in scenery, it takes you a second to recognize that he’s headed straight upstairs. He’s on a singular mission, as made clear by the clever hand on your ass that’s not just to keep you supported in his arms.

Joel may be older than you, but goddamn, you always forget how fucking strong he is.

The buttons of his flannel are irritatingly done up and your fingers are trying to get the stubborn bastard things open when he makes it to your bedroom and drops you to the mattress with a squeak. You barely have time to get your bearings back from the impact before he’s pressing down on top of you.

“Missed you so much last night,” he offers, already pressing hot kisses to your neck, your collarbone, pulling at the stretched neckline of a shirt that’s his anyway.

You nod rapidly in agreement, nerves fizzling with electricity before he even touches you. It’s always been like this. The easy, syrupy intimacy of everyday life that can snap on a dime, dropping you both into urgency and need like you’ve never felt before. And, indeed, you need him to fuck you already before you go out of your mind.

In a dance that’s as instinctual as breathing, your legs wrap around him. Your hips undulate up into his so you can feel where he’s hard and just as desperate.

Joel pulls back to hover above you. One hand palmed around the back of your neck, tilting you to look up at him. Guiding you where he wants you. “What do you need, baby?”

You lick your bottom lip, brain catching up to his words. His eyes dart down to your mouth.

“I-I want–” you start, breathlessly, but he cuts you off with a click of his tongue.

“Don’t think I asked what you wanted, sweet girl,” he hums, thumb resting on your chin and pulling it down. Gentle pressure, you could absolutely break away if you wanted to, but you follow his lead, sucking the appendage into your mouth. “Asked what you needed.”

You try to get the word “you” out around your mouthful, and you must do a good enough job that it earns you a kiss to the forehead, a move that might feel out of place to anyone else, but it’s so protective and possessive and him it makes you want to fucking writhe to release the pressure between your legs.

The slick sound of his thumb when he pulls it from you draws a sharp whine from your chest and he shushes you, hands dragging down and down and down your sides, coming to rest on your hips. Something about that wriggles in the back of your head, like there was something you were supposed to be doing here, but you’re way too caught up to remember.

“It’s alright. I gotcha, baby,” Joel says, heated and soft in his low drawl, and then he’s sliding your shorts down your hips. Hands sure and practiced, expert at playing you like a goddamn fiddle. Lips laying scalding, sucking kisses from the crook of your knee to the inside of your thigh as he eases your legs open and–

Stops.

It takes a couple of seconds for you to realize that he’s not just pausing for anticipation. He’s full on halted down there, one of your legs still hiked up in his palm, staring down at you like…Well.

You think the term Maria used was struck dumb.

You bite your lip to keep the laughter contained. It’s not very successful, because his eyes snap back up to your face after a snort sneaks out against your will.

There are lots of sexier ways you could play this, probably, but you settle on grinning up at him.

“Surprise?”

The sound he lets out is more of a sharp exhalation of breath than anything, like it was kicked out of him. You think you hear a goddamn tacked on the end there, but it’s quiet.

“What prompted this?” he asks when his words find him again, eyes dropped back down to take in the sight.

“Felt like a change,” you mumble, losing some of your previous steam. You can give him the whole story later, but despite being used to him seeing you all kinds of ways, something about direct eye contact with your pussy makes you wriggle uncomfortably.

“You, uh. You like it?” You’re starting to feel that anxiety creep back in, especially since he hasn’t confirmed or denied, or said much of fucking anything to give you a clue yet.

Something in your tone must give that away, because you can almost see him mentally shake himself–systems coming back online, you think to yourself. The next time his eyes catch yours, it makes your stomach go molten.

“Like it?” he echoes. His fingers have started exploring, petting down your soft skin. Even just the gentlest touch is like a livewire, makes your entire body clench, and he huffs out a soft laugh. “More’n like it, you are…Christ.”

He’s lowered your knee over his shoulder now, using both hands to make you lightheaded without actually touching where you want him.

“She’s so pretty, baby,” he coos at you, making you moan even louder when he caresses the tender skin on either side of your cunt. “You make her all pretty just for me?”

You nod, words a knot in your throat.

“She’s always pretty, though.” You can feel the hot breath closer now, mouth hovering just above where your nerves are on fire. The sensation has your hand snapping down and threading into his hair with a keening whine. “Prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, an’ all mine.”

And then he’s eating at you like a man starved.

He’s always been enthusiastic when it comes to your pleasure, but like this everything feels heightened, sensitive beyond measure. His nose bumps your clit and your vision whites out..

His tongue is not just bullying inside you every few strokes, it’s licking at the soft, smooth skin wherever he can touch. He sets his teeth to gently drag across one of your folds and it sends you nearly howling with it, the pressure in your core ratcheting up so high that you feel yourself hurtling to the edge impossibly fast. Joel knows it, too. He knows your body better than anything else on earth.

“That’s it,” When he pulls back, it’s only with scant inches between you still, dipping back in to lay kiss after kiss on your heated flesh between words, like he can’t stand to pull himself away. Two of his fingers take the place of his tongue, crooking up inside you exactly where he knows drives you crazy and thrusting. Fucking you through it with every trick he knows drives you right to the peak.

“Good girl, take what you need, alright? Give it to me, baby, I got ya’,”

You can’t do anything but comply. Chest heaving, crying out with your orgasm as he eases you down as effectively as he built you up, kissing around your clit because he knows the stimulation can be too much directly after.

You don’t even wait to get your breath back before you’re using the grasp you still have on his hair to yank him up to your mouth.

He tastes like you.

It’s your favorite thing to taste on him.

Down below, past where his fingers are still petting at you, he’s grinding into the bed, trying to relieve the pressure where he’s straining against the seams of his sweatpants. The sight of it knocks enough sense back into you to start tugging at his clothes with urgency once more. It must amuse him greatly judging by the look he gives you.

“Need something?” he asks, but smart man that he is, he’s already joining in to help you shove his clothes away, your hands too shaky from the mind-shattering orgasm still. “Got another one in you?”

“You gonna keep asking stupid questions?” you pant, and it makes him bark out a delighted laugh, genuine and deep, and it has you grinning in response, always secretly pleased when you make him laugh.

It’s a practiced dance between you both; getting him undressed to match you, taking playful nips at the newly uncovered skin within reach, getting distracted by long periods of kissing until you’re so keyed up again that all you can do is pant against his mouth while he teases you.

He’s slowly rubbing the head of his cock against your soft folds, a slick slide that echoes wetly in the room and it’s so fucking obscene you could vibrate out of your own skin.

Up and down.

Coating himself in you and…just feeling. Playing with you. Enjoying his surprise. You let out a whine, impatient and beyond your limits.

“S’it feel good?” he’s toying with you, stroking along your skin everywhere except where you need him. He nudges against your clit and the shocky, overwhelming zip of it rocks a gasp from your chest that he must like the sound of because he does it again, hungry for it.

“You didn’t answer me earlier, you think she’s got another one for me?”

You’ve dissolved down to only nerve endings, too wound up to do much in response but grind up against him.

“Feels so good, so soft and sweet f’me,” he groans, the head pressing in just that little bit, barely there, only needing just that little bit more pressure to pop past the resistance and into your body. “Why don’t you feel, baby? Reach down here and guide me in, feel how nice we feel together,”

He grabs your hand, pulling it down between your bodies, grunting when you grip around him. It’s so slick and hot, a combination of the two of you that makes your stomach clench in anticipation. You try to guide him right in, desperate to feel him inside of you, but he resists.

“Slow, baby, slow, there we go,” It’s agonizingly drawn out, but he sinks into you finally, the position you’re in–one of his hands under the small of your back to tilt you up to him, your knees locked around him–combined with the glacial pace makes it feel so intense and fucking deep that you’re sucking in great lungfulls of air to keep from floating away. “Theeere we go, atta girl. Always take it so well,” he murmurs, breathless himself, shoulders tense.

He’s petting along your side with his free hand, gentling you like a goddamn horse, and fuck does it make your eyes roll back. With anyone else it would probably feel condescending. With Joel it just makes you want to slam your hips down into him even more, get him to move already.

He finally does draw back, right before slamming forward again and stealing all of the hard-won breath from your chest.

Time is lost after that. A haze of slapping skin and moans.

He adjusts his grip on you, both hands coming to rest on your hips to physically pull you into the force of his thrusts, propping you up and up until–

“Fuck!”

He hits that spot inside of you that makes your entire body jolt with electricity, and he grins, boyish and cocky.

“There she is,” he’s relentless, angled perfectly to make you lose your mind, thumb coming up to rub perfect, tight circles over your clit in time with his strokes. “I’ve got you, baby, gonna let go for me?”

Already keyed up and sensitive from your peak earlier, the overstimulation is tortuous and so, so good, already hurtling you towards another that you know he can feel impending by the way you’re tightening around him.

You’re trying to hold on, drawing out the pleasure curling at the base of your spine, but he drops down, hips never stopping, thumb still a maddening pressure on your clit, and he bites at your chest.

His breath is scorching hot and wet on your skin as he groans “such a good fuckin’ girl, fuckin’ come on my cock baby, s’all yours,” and he bites down on a peaked, puffy nipple.

Your second orgasm of the night rocks through you, the force of it startling, your fingernails making deep grooves in Joel’s back as you ride through it.

He’s cursing and holding you to him, hips stuttering with your cunt gripping him so tightly. Your end tumbles him into his own, emptying into you and fucking his come deeper on instinct.

The room is silent except for your combined breaths as you both come down.

There’s a pleasant buzzing in your limbs, a humming in the back of your mind as it comes back to the awareness that you still have a rather large man resting on top of you and that your lungs would quite like it if they could inflate all the way.

You tap Joel’s shoulder and he adjusts, sweat-sticky skin peeling from you to move to the side. It’s not as gross to you as it maybe could be. You think that’s what love might be.

He’s no sooner on his back beside you before you’ve rolled to lay against him, one leg tucked up over his, your chest flattened to his. Like space between you might actually kill you right now in the wake of your high. To his credit, he must feel the same, his palms skimming over your back, your ass, down to your knee and up again in a soothing circuit.

Soon you’ll need to get up and run a bath. Currently, you cannot think of anything you’d like to do less than move from this spot.

Joel kisses your hair, then your forehead, across your cheeks, anywhere he can reach, and you hum, absolutely in love with how touchy he gets after a good orgasm. The man may look big and bad outside these walls, but you have his number when it comes to post-coital cuddles.

It’s because you know him so well that you sense something brewing, his thoughts a little too loud for your liking. “Everything okay?”

He just hums, working a spot under your jaw with his teeth.

“Joel.”

“What?”

“You’re thinking too hard.”

“M’not.”

“You are, I can smell the smoke.”

He huffs, head dropping back to the pillow. “Cute.”

“I know,” you pretend to preen, but drop the humor quickly in favor of propping up on an elbow to look at him. He doesn’t seem distressed, but he’s definitely chewing on something. “What is it?”

His forehead is furrowed a bit, mouth curved to one side in thought. “You just…”

Your brow raises, prompting.

“You didn’t do all that,” he gestures at your lower half propped against him. “Just for me, did you?”

You snort. “Didn’t hear you complaining about it a minute ago.”

He rolls his eyes. “I ain’t complaining, I’m just saying.”

It’s on the tip of your tongue to tease again, maybe even get a little defensive as the nerves from before try to sink back in, but you refrain. You can see in his expression that he’s serious, trying to say something here that’s important, so you let him gather his thoughts. He sighs, appearing frustrated at himself that the words aren’t coming out right.

“You can do whatever you want with your body, not like you need permission from me. I just wanted t’say that you don’t need to do anything to change yourself for me. I know some people did that controlling shit Before, pushed their preferences on their partner, but I thought it was stupid then, too. I love the way you are no matter what, because it’s you, alright?”

You blink at him, not expecting the heartfelt turn in conversation.

There’s a hint of a flush under his tanned skin that has nothing to do with the previous vigorous activity. Talking about emotions usually does that to him, but he always makes a point of letting you know how he feels about you.

You wax your pussy on a drunken whim because you think it’ll be hot, and this large, wonderful idiot of a man is worried you did it out of some obligation to beauty standards and wants you to know he loves you regardless.

As silly as the situation is, you’re utterly, ridiculously charmed.

You smile down at him, still propped on his chest. The perfect vantage point to see how his eyes get drawn to your kiss-swollen mouth.

“And what if I said that I was just trying something out? Comparing differences, you know, to see what I like. Scientific, almost.”

His eyes darken.

“In that case,” With a startled shriek, he has you flipped, back pinned to the bed once more. “Thinkin’ we should keep on testin’.”

He’s creeping back down your body, focus resting on his come that has been dripping out of you, fingers scooping through the slick and pushing it right back inside where it belongs. It wrenches a shocked moan from you.

“Joel, I can barely move already.” you whine.

“Good thing I’m doing all the work, then.”

His eyes are locked on the apex of your legs, greedily taking you in.

“I ain’t done with you yet, pretty thing,” and you don’t think he’s talking to your face at all.

#joel miller x reader #Jackson!joel #x reader #joel miller fanfiction #Rated E #joel miller smut #my writing #smut #that man is the KING of pussy pronouns and i will stand on that fact until my dying day #pedro pascal universe #I guess I should use that tag too even though Game Joel is also valid and has my entire heart #pedro pascal fic

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