#and it’ll only take like two and a half hours to get there. so really i have a lot of spare time after i go to the car place | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fyodior · 3 months

Text

FUCK YOU, FUCK ME!

pairing: toji fushiguro x gn!reader (no anatomy described)

cw: pegging toji !!!! reader uses a strap, toji is hesitant but goes along with it and ends up LOVING it. anal (m!receiving), missionary and doggy, minor orgasm control, etc. kind of glorified anal so keep that in mind. MINORS DONT INTERACT ILL BITE

notes: this is a sponsored fic for @ficsforgaza, and im so so excited to finally be posting it!! (other wips available for sponsor here) go check out some other great creators on the blog too!! and this is my first time back writing in a bit so pls be kind :") divider by @/cafekitsune!

wc: 2.8k

“Toji, sweetheart, you need to relax.”

“Fuck- I’m fuckin’ trying,” your lover grunts, wincing and sucking in a sharp breath. “I’m not fuckin’ used to things inside’a me like you are.” You choose to ignore that last quip.

Only half a very well lubed finger deep into his tight ass, you figure this is going to be a long night, but you know it’ll be so, so, worth it - for both you and him.

The day you first proposed trying anal to Toji, he was all for it - excited even. Until he found out that you meant he’d be the one receiving, and his face immediately fell.

“No. Nope. Nothin’s goin’ up my shitter,” he had responded, making you roll your eyes and groan. You swore up and down that a prostate orgasm could be life changing for males, but he flat out refused for months. It wasn’t until your birthday when you promised him he didn’t have to buy you a gift if he agreed to try anal just once - and then he was all for it.

He was hesitant as the two of you scrolled through sex toy websites to search for the best possible strap and dildo for him. Pointing out ones you thought he might like only made his face contort in discomfort, haunted by the thought of something going inside his asshole. The list of “hard no’s” grew and grew the longer you searched: nothing longer than 6 inches, nothing girthier than a circumference of 5 inches, no skin colors because that felt too real, and no balls. Toji Fushiguro was a hard man to please.

Finally, finally, after months of convincing, hours of online shopping, and a few more days following the arrival of the package, did you have your lover laid out in front of you, legs spread and hole awaiting. It was the sweetest fucking sight in the world, and you were so grateful you maintained enough patience to get to this moment. Good things really do come to those who wait.

The harness was already strapped around your waist, painfully eager to attach the dildo and get to it, but of course there was ample prep required, especially for someone completely new to anal. Per your request, he had showered prior to you getting home from work and had tried to clean himself out a little bit, which you were very grateful for. Now you were tasked with stretching and prepping his hole. Your mouth watered at the thought of it.

Instructing him to lay on his back, for no other reason than you wanted to see his face, you press his thick, sinewy thighs apart and settle between them. You had done your best to create a gentle, relaxing environment in your shared bedroom, with the lights dimmed low, a few candles flickering on the shelf, and soft music playing from the TV. Yet still, the man was as tense as a clenched fist.

The goal was to get him a little worked up and wanting it, so you start with a little foreplay. Kissing him softly, you jerk him off slowly, getting him hard enough that he wants to cum. His hard cock lays neglected on his belly as he rests on his back, propped up against a horde of pillows, and you could honestly cum just at the sight of him. Toji is fucking beautiful.

But now it was finally time. After dousing your fingers in a thick, goopy layer of lube, you press the tip of your ring finger against his puckered hole, and he immediately flinches.

“Baby, I promise I won’t make this hurt, you have to breathe, though,” you plead, using your other hand to massage his thigh. “Here - take a deep breath with me.”

Motioning for him to follow, you suck in air, watching him closely. After rolling his eyes and deciding he’ll finally play along, he mimics you. The second he releases the breath he was holding, his body deflating, you take the chance and slip in your finger down to just the first knuckle.

He immediately gasps, furrowing his brows and grunting. “Hey! You fuckin’ tricked me!” he accuses, indignant as a little kid.

You chuckle in response. “It got it in, didn’t it?”

You stay like that for a bit, wriggling the tip of your finger purely just to start getting him used to the feeling of something inside him, watching his expressions closely.

“Does it feel good at all, babe?”

It takes Toji a moment to respond, clearly chewing on the idea in his brain. “It… it’s weird,” he finally says, pursing his lips. “It just feels strange - not… bad, though. Yet.”

“Good,” you nod. “Good. Just hang in there, and you’ll feel good soon, okay? Promise.”

He just grumbles before gripping his cock, fisting it a few times before you smack his hand away.

“Hey!” he gasps, jaw wide open. “It’s my dick!”

“No. I said no touching yourself yet,” you bite back. When he looks like he’s about to pitch a fit, you decide to throw in a “please, baby? For me?” and he backs down. Toji is nothing if not a sucker for you.

After warning him, you push your finger in to the second knuckle. He sucks in a sharp breath, but makes no protest - a good sign. Soon, you have your whole finger inside him, and he’s panting a bit.

“See, baby? I knew you could take it,” you smile softly.

“Whatever,” Toji grumbles, avoiding your gaze. He can deny it all he wants, but he can’t hide the fact that his dick twitched every time you pushed your finger in a little further. “Let’s hurry this up and get it over with.”

Your eyes go wide at that, but you nod. “Your wish is my command, sir,” you smirk.

And just like that, your whole pointer finger has bullied its way inside him.

“Fuck!” Toji coughs, lurching forward. “You can’t do that!”

“Oh, but I can,” you grin impishly. “Just lay back and let me work you open, okay?”

Now that you have two fingers inside him, you can actually make some headway. Squirting some more lube around his entrance, you start to very slowly fuck him with your fingers, pumping them in and out at a snail’s pace. Toji stays silent, still refusing to meet your gaze, but his cheeks are cherry red and he’s gripping the sheets with a tight fist.

The quiet music coming from the TV hums softly in the background, and you hope it’s relaxing him at least a little as you slowly spread your fingers apart, trying to scissor them open to loosen the muscles and stretch him out. Toji’s breath hitches when you spread them even past when his hole starts to resist, and you smirk. You guess he likes the feeling of being full just as much as you do.

Time passes painfully slowly while you work him open with your fingers, aching to finally get inside him. To finally fuck Toji in the way he deserves. Finally, you feel like he’s prepped enough to adequately take the strap. It might hurt a tiny bit, but what’s the harm in that?

“Okay, sweetheart,” you start as you fit the jet black dildo into the O-ring connected to the strap. “You okay on your back like this, or do you wanna take it from the back?”

His face burns bright red at the thought of you fucking him in doggy, so he just shakes his head. “ ‘m fine like this,” he mumbles, and you nod.

Once again settling between his thighs, you wrap a hand around his cock and pump it lazily, offering him a small smile.

“You look so pretty laid out like this for me, legs spread and ass spread so wide, ready to take my cock,” you muse, mind in overdrive.

“S-st-stop,” Toji squeaks out, biting his fist. He won’t admit it, he can’t admit it, he’ll die before admitting how much that turns him on. He can’t admit how his ass has started to ache for something to fill it back up again, even though you’re more than willing to oblige.

“Can’t, baby boy,” you frown, leaning in for a kiss. “Not when I finally have you like this.”

The brief kisses seem to relax the tense man just a bit, melting against your lips and kissing back hungrily. You could’ve sworn you caught a just fuck me already under his breath, but he’ll refuse it until his deathbed.

When you make eye contact with him and he nods, you press the well-lubed tip of the strap against his hole, watching with stars in your eyes as it resists, but still tries to spread open. A cough can be heard from near the headboard, but no protests so far. Soft whines fight to escape Toji’s throat as you push in each centimeter of the silicone cock, face burning hot and red. About halfway in, you pause, giving the man a moment to breathe and acclimatize to the intrusion inside him. He’s grateful for it too, huffing and groaning and squirming as he tries to find a more comfortable position, but there is none. Not when there’s something hard shoved up his ass. You just stay as patient as a saint, massaging his muscly thighs and running your hands up his torso, trying your best not to lean too far forward and inch any more of the cock inside him. As a treat, you give his throbbing, aching cock a few tugs with your spit coated palm, and he lets out a sigh.

One more moment of eye contact, and more nod, and you push your hips a little farther forward. Suddenly, Toji lurches forward again.

“Gah!!” he cries out, eyes wide and heaving. “What- what was that? What did you do?” The accusatory questions only make you laugh, leaning in to kiss him sweetly.

“Must be your sweet spot - your prostate,” you chuckle. “Here - let’s try again.”

Pulling out a few inches and thrusting in again has Toji sputtering and groaning all over again. You can’t help but break out into a wild smirk. This is exactly what you wanted. Not only for yourself, as a perfect view to marvel at and take in, but for him - Toji deserves this, deserves to feel good.

Leaning forward, hands braced on either side of his chest, you muster up all your strength and thrust hard. This time his head is falling back against the pillow as he cries out with a call of your name, too.

“It’s all the way inside, sweetheart,” you smile, marveling at how the silicone balls are pressed firm against his ass. “How do you feel?”

“G-good,” he nods, gulping. “Just- let’s just do this- please,” Toji chokes out.

This version of Toji, one so vulnerable and desperate, is one you’ve never seen before. Not even when he’s fucking you - he’ll get desperate to get his dick wet, sure, but this is… different. Sweeter. His dark, unruly hair is matted to his forehead with sweat, and his chest is heaving in anticipation. You simply have no choice than to give him exactly what he wants.

Inching your strap out to where the tip is almost dangling out of his hole, you thrust all the way back in, relishing in the way he once again moans. His reaction is so much sweeter than you could’ve imagined, and you simply can’t help the way you go fucking crazy. Your thrusts pick up speed, anchoring yourself by gripping the sheets hard as you erratically fuck your lover’s ass. The both of you are complete messes, groaning and whining and gasping almost theatrically, chasing a beautiful high.

“Harder,” Toji grunts, pulling you in by your cheeks for a messy kiss as his thick legs circle your waist. “Fuck! Fe-feels so fucking good, fuck, fuck fuck…” he blabbers, your face still in his tight grip. You couldn’t give less of a shit, just want to see him falling apart even more, so you give him exactly what he asks for.

Wet sounds of lube and skin on skin echo throughout the bedroom, mixed with the tunes of both your moaning and groaning. An ache is blossoming in your thigh muscles and you can feel yourself losing stamina but you refuse to give in just yet, using every ounce of your strength to piston your hips in and out of him. Toji can’t help but clench tight around your cock, you can feel it by the increased resistance, and you truly think you must have died and gone to heaven.

“Toji, sweetheart,” you call, trying to grab the man’s attention. “Get on your hands and knees for me, okay?”

For the first time likely ever, the man does as he’s asked with no protest. He hisses a bit as you slip all the way out of his tight heat, but scrambles to flip over and present his ass for you. There’s no way this is your Toji, not when he’s acting like this - but you decide you’ll allow yourself to indulge in this doppelganger, just for tonight.

Some adjustments to his stance are required, as he is taller than you, but you soon find a comfortable position so that your hips can be flush against his ass. His throbbing cock and balls hang heavy at this angle, dangling between his thighs, but he doesn’t seem to mind. At this angle, you have a much better view of his beautiful ass, using two hands to spread his cheeks apart and stare with a slack jaw at his abused hole, puffy and throbbing. It’s mind boggling that you were inside him. And will be again. With one languid thrust, you’re bottoming out again and pressing his face into the pillow, making him cry out.

This angle, while depriving you of your lover’s beautiful face, is much easier for your task. Having his ass presented for you like this makes fucking him a breeze - so you take, and take, and take, and take. Pump in and out of his tight, wet hole, both of your bodies trembling as you’re overcome with so much emotion and overstimulation. You feel like a bitch in heat with the way you’re rutting into him, bottoming out with almost every thrust.

“Fuck,” Toji spits. “I’m gonna fucking cum.”

Your eyes go wide at the realization. He’s going to cum? Just from getting fucked? Holy shit.

“Yeah, baby? Wanna cum? Feels so good getting fucked, huh?” you tease, continuing to fuck him hard and deep. “Want me to help you out, or so how long it takes for you to cum just from getting your ass fucked? Hm?” Your own words are lost on you, seemingly coming from a place of pure lust and not from your rational mind.

“Please help,” Toji chokes out. And he’s been so good, not touching his cock this entire time, taking your cock so well, that you decide to do as he asks.

Your pace slows down some as you wrap a hand around his aching, angry red cock, thumbing at the tip and using his tacky precum to lube up your hand some. It only takes one, two, three strokes before he’s gasping and spurting thick, hot ropes of cum onto the bed, whole body tensing as he cries out louder than you’ve ever heard before. He collapses onto the bed, and you take the message, pulling your strap out from his abused hole. No words come from his mouth, only heaves and gasps for air as he tries to come to terms with what just occurred. You don’t nag him at all, just flop down next to him and push his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes.

“Did that feel good, baby? Hm?” you ask, smiling softly at him. That’s truly all you ever wanted. You truly couldn’t give much of a shit about your own desires and lust - all you ever, ever wanted in this world was for your lover to feel good.

Toji gulps. “....Yeah. Felt real good.” It’s obvious he’s exhausted, only moments from passing out. You can’t blame him.

“Did so, so good for me, sweetheart,” you coo, leaning in to give him a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Now get some rest. It’s hard getting fucked, isn’t it?” That makes him chuckle weakly.

“Fuck you,” he rasps, but he has a lopsided smile on his face. “Love you. Really. Thank you.”

Your heart soars and you smile widely. “Of course, sweetheart. Always. I love you. Now please get some rest so we can go for a second round.”

#toji x reader #toji smut #jjk smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #toji imagine #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #toji x y/n #jjk x y/n #jjk x gender neutral reader

508 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 5 months

Note

have a bonfire - send a character + a trope (one bed, fake dating, etc.) and I’ll write a drabble

hm what about remus lupin + sunshine x grumpy !! in which he is the grumpy ofc 🙌

Thanks for requesting angel!! Luv u <3

cw: mention of alcohol

Remus Lupin x sunshine!reader ♡ 653 words

Remus is reading his book more out of spite than interest. You’ve gone to get drinks with Sirius, removing yourself from his lap, which has put him in a worse mood than anything else all night, even the loud neighbors Sirius has invited over or the relentless congeniality that makes you incapable of not chatting up anyone who comes too close.

When you come back you’ve brought James with you, and Remus relaxes as you situate yourself back on his lap, passing him a drink and letting him settle his free hand on your hip. He’s not sure how it happened, but Remus has found that he feels significantly better when he always has a hand on you.

“Moony,” James greets him with a full-wattage smile, “you’re looking positively surly this evening.”

“Her fault,” he replies, making you laugh and peck him on the cheek with your booze-sticky lips.

“Right, of course.” James takes a sip of his own drink, sharing a look with Sirius. “Your bird’s a real menace, it’s just like her to bring down a mood.”

“He’s just grouchy because I made him come tonight.” Your tone is teasing but there’s not a lick of real acrimony in it, and you grin when Remus squeezes your hip warningly. “But Rem, listen, it was totally worth it!” You seem to forget James and Sirius, your attention focussing solely on him. You have this way of making Remus feel like he’s standing in a pool of sunlight when you do this, looking at him all warm and bright and extra special. “You remember how I said Frank and Alice were going to get together in the next two weeks?”

He hums in affirmation.

“Well, guess who Sirius and I just saw making out in the kitchen?”

Intrigue sparks in his chest, and Remus feels his brows lift. “Really?”

“Yes!” You’re thrumming with excitement, eyes gone all heart-shaped. “They’re so perfect for each other, I knew it would happen!”

He rubs your hip tranquilizingly before you can wind yourself up to go congratulate the happy couple or spread the news or anything else that would take you away from him. “You called it, dove.” A pause. “Does this mean we can go now?”

Your eyes crinkle, and Remus sighs as you kiss the bridge of his nose, dropping his head onto your shoulder. “We’ve only been here an hour,” you say into his hair, “but we’ll go soon, I promise. I’ll make that nighttime tea you like, and we’ll have a nice, long cuddle before bed.”

You’re so good to him it’s impossible to truly deny you anything, but Remus turns his head to nip at the skin of your neck anyway. No one can see his smile when you squeal and clutch at his shoulders, giggling.

“I’m offended you want to leave so badly, Moony,” says Sirius. “What’s so awful about my party?”

Remus sits up, prepared to give him an extensive list, but you peck your boyfriend sweetly on the lips, pacifying him.

“Nothing,” you tell Sirius, directing your smile his way. An irrational sort of jealousy rears its head in Remus’ chest. “It’s a great party! Your new neighbors are awesome, by the way.” Remus knows you really mean it, despite how those neighbors came in, drank half the liquor, and have yet to lower their voices since it entered their systems. You’re infinitely kinder than he is. “They’re so funny! I’m sure it’ll be a riot living next to them.”

“Thank you, gorgeous,” Sirius says with a pointed look to Remus. “I really like them too, I’ll probably invite them to everything from now on.”

Remus groans and hides his face in your chest, your body rumbling underneath him as you laugh. He feels your lips press to his hair. “Sorry, handsome,” you whisper. “I’ll make sure you never have to talk to them, yeah? I’m an excellent buffer.”

788 notes · View notes

javiscigarette · 1 year

Text

Sweet Spot

Summary: You get a promotion at work, so Joel dresses you up and takes you out for dinner but you're hungry for somethin else

Warnings: no use of y/n, smut with the tiniest sliver of plot, established relationship, fingering, fingering in public, rough sex, oral (m receiving), spitting, a bit of choking, daddy kink ofc, degradation,

w/c: 9k (omfg) of pwp :)

a/n: I don't loveee this one but I've been sitting on it for three months and I can't get the image of freshly showered Joel out of my mind so. Here we are. Also the daddy kink as taken over, I cant stop and I'm NOT sorry!! Pls let me know what you guys think, your comments and love are the only things keeping me going. (also also, if you're someone who likes making edits for pics PLS message me I am desperate and really bad at making them)

my masterlist

Joel is in the driveway leaning over the hood of his truck when you pull up to the house, fiddling with whatever new project he decided to start this afternoon. You’re able to catch a quick glimpse of his shirt riding up a bit, exposing an inch or two of the skin of his back before he hears your car and turns around.

You pull into the driveway next to his truck and hop out as soon as you’re in park. The warm sound of Joel’s laughter fills the air as you squeal excitedly, running around the front of your car and into his outstretched arms. He pulls you close into him, his black t-shirt hot from the sun has he squeezes you tightly. He smells like motor oil and sweat and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t get you going just a little bit.

“M’guessing it went well?” Joel asks when he pulls back, chuckling as he watches you bounce up and down on your toes.

You’d been working on this presentation for your job for two weeks now, spending hours smoothing out every minor detail, giving mock presentations to Joel and staying up late worrying about how it’ll go.

“Everyone loved it, Joel!” you nearly shout.

“And guess what?” you ask, not giving him any time to respond. “I got promoted!” you squeal.

Joel’s chest is about to burst with pride.

“M’so proud of you, angel. You worked so hard for it.” Joel tells you, his voice soft and sincere as he holds you against him.

“We need to get in the shower,” Joel says, turning away from you to lower the hood of his truck. “I’m taking you out.”

—-----------

You sit on the edge of the bed with your towel wrapped around your waist, waiting patiently for Joel to return from the closet. It's no surprise when he returns with a bundle of black fabric – in his hands is his favorite thing you own: the lacey black 3 piece set and the thigh high stockings to match.

He has a wide smile, his eyes sparkling with affection as he looks at you. With a soft smile in return, you drop your towel allowing it to pool on the bed around you as you expose yourself completely for him.

“You’re so pretty, baby”

Your ears perk up at the slight strain in his voice. You look down and grin, the outline of his half-hard cock clear as day under his black boxer briefs.

“We’re never gonna make it to the restaurant” you laugh and move to stand up for him, despite wishing he would just give in right now and fuck you until you couldn’t see straight.

But he just shakes his head with a chuckle as he takes your place, sitting on the edge of the bed with you standing between his knees.

“Yes we will, angel. And we’ll play when we get back, give you whatever you want…if you’re good” Joel promises, easily reading your mind.

You huff dramatically as he picks out the garter belt from the pile and holds it up to you. He doesn’t say anything, just braces himself when you reach out and grip his shoulder for balance as you lift up one leg.

He bends over, holding the belt open so that you can step with one foot and then the other. He then straightens back up, pulling the fabric up your legs as he does so. Heat pools in your tummy when you look down at him and see his brows knitted together in serious concentration as he dresses you.

He does this all the time. The routine is committed to muscle memory at this point.

It’s not that he cares about what you wear, he couldn’t give two shits as long as you’re comfortable. But the power in deciding what you’re going to wear underneath, or if you’re going to wear anything at all, gives him a rush. And he’s positively obsessed with being the one to dress you up in it, says it’s like “wrapping his own present that he gets to rip open later”.

Goosebumps erupt all over your skin under his warm fingers. You feel so beautiful in these moments, with Joel so focused on your body inches away from his face, his eyes wide and his cock hard just at the mere sight of your exposed skin and the excitement of seeing you in whatever he picks out for you.

He settles the belt around your waist, making sure all the edges are untucked and lying flat before reaching for the thong and repeating the process.

“So fucking, pretty” Joel mumbles as he smooths the lace over your hips, adjusting the elastic so it stretches perfectly over your skin. Then he’s spinning you around so until you’re facing the other away, your ass on full display for him. He can’t help but press a kiss to your cheek before straightening out the back of your thong, his mouth watering at the sight of the thin strip of fabric disappearing in between your cheeks.

Mindlessly, he reaches around to your front and slips his hand between your thighs. The tips of his fingers just barely brush over the lace of your thong but he can feel the heat of your swollen pussy underneath.

He sighs and wraps his other arm around your waist and pulls you back into him until his cheek is squished against your lower back, his scruff scratching lightly against your sensitive skin. His fingers keep dancing over you with minimal pressure behind his touch.

“Joel,” you whimper quietly, already getting all worked up from his minimal teasing. He just shushes you and presses another warm kiss to the back of your hip. After a couple more seconds of light brushes he slips his middle finger into the side of your thong to find your entrance and immediately sinks it inside of you.

You yelp in surprise, and reflexively try to take a step away from him, but he’s got you tight in his grip.

“Just wanna feel you, baby” Joel mumbles against your skin, his beard tickling you and making the muscles in your lower back twitch. He closes his eyes, fully focused on feeling your wet walls flutter gently around his finger. His brow furrows and his mouth drops open slightly when he hears your quiet whimper, the sweet sound going straight to his already painfully hard cock.

He doesn’t even mean to tease you most of the time. Sure, he loves seeing you get all worked up just from a few gentle touches and he adores watching you fall apart underneath him, collapsing into a begging mess for him before he’s even really done anything. But most of the time it’s a genuine need to touch you. It’s like he needs to have physical contact with your body at all times, serving as a reminder that you’re real, you’re here and you’re all his.

He slides his finger out a few seconds later, much to your disappointment. But before you can complain, he spins you back around and stares you in the eyes as brings his finger up in front of you and gently pushes it between your parted lips. You allow him without any hesitation, and he watches you in awe as you lick and suck his finger clean of your arousal, his jaw slack and eyes dark and wide.

“Ain’t it sweet, angel?” Joel asks, breathless with amusement and lust.

You nod and he grins before slowly sliding his finger out of your mouth.

“S’a good girl, baby” Joel comments as he reaches for one of the thigh high stockings. His praise wraps around your heart and melts into your veins, just his simple words making you feel warm and floaty.

You watch him as he bunches up the stocking at the foot, holding it open for you to step in before pulling it up your leg. He smooths out the lace edge and makes sure that it’s even all around your thigh before he fastens the clips of the garter belt to the top of the stocking. He does the same thing with your other leg before turning you around again and fastening the clips in the back.

Joel turns you around so you’re facing him again and then presses a kiss to the top of each thigh.

“Fuckin’ perfect” he sighs as he leans back and admires his work.

You blush under his gaze, his eyes burning holes in your skin as he stares hungrily. He stands up after a few moments and reaches for the matching bralette, helping you slip it over your shoulders before fastening the clasps in the back.

He looks down at you and tries to resist the urge to touch you again but he can’t keep himself away. And the small moan you let out when he brings both his thumbs up to brush over your nipples through the lace has him nearly giving in right then and there.

You look up at him with pleading eyes, silently telling him that you’re not going to be good for much longer if he keeps this up. He stares back at you and thinks about pushing you, letting you act like a bad girl before fucking some sense into you. But he decides he wants to show you off first.

“Go get dressed, baby” Joel instructs gently with a smile. “Pick something nice for me.”

—

You decide on a black dress, one that clings to all the right places while just barely concealing the tops of your stockings and the clips holding them in place. You finish getting ready in the bathroom, and when you walk back out to the bedroom, you nearly collapse at the sight in front of you.

Joel is standing in front of the floor-length mirror with his back turned to you. He’s wearing a simple outfit: black trousers with a black button down to match. The top two buttons of his shirt are undone and your mouth waters at the exposed skin of his thick neck and broad chest.

It’s almost unfair how good he looks with his hair pushed back just slightly, the damp locks just starting to curl into their usual pattern as they air dry. Your heart races at the thought of tangling your fingers into the ones laying at the nape of his neck. His eyes meet yours in the mirror and he smirks as he finishes rolling up his sleeves until they rest perfectly at his elbows.

He then reaches for his rings – the ones you got for him as part of his birthday present earlier this year, the small gold bands that you insisted would look good on him – and picks them up from where they’re sitting on the dresser. And clearly you were right because when he turns to face you, you almost moan out loud watching him slide a ring down one pinky and then the other. He crosses the room towards you, your knees trembling as he shamelessly rakes his eyes up and down your figure.

“Stunning” Joel whispers, shaking his head slightly in disbelief. His hands easily find your hips and he gently turns you around so you’re facing the mirror, your back pressed into his warm, broad chest.

“I love you, angel. And I’m so fuckin’ proud of you, you know that right?” Joel asks as he wraps both arms around your waist and hooks his chin over your shoulder.

“Yes, Joel, I know. I love you too” you giggle, easily flustered at his praise.

“M’serious, baby. So proud of how hard you work, how dedicated you are” Joel starts, moving to nuzzle his face against your neck. “How smart you are” Joel continues, his lips brushing delicately over your sensitive skin. You melt so easily underneath him, relaxing into the soft glide of his warm palms up and down your sides as he whispers sweet words of praise into your neck.

“And I bet you looked fuckin’ sexy doing it too” Joel growls, his hands tightening on your hip. You let out a mixture between a sniffle and laugh and then feel Joel’s lips curve into a smile against your neck. He presses a kiss behind your ear and straightens back up and turns you around to face him.

Joel’s heart turns to liquid when you look up at him through watery lashes with a wide smile. He smiles down at you and brings a hand up to wipe away your tears with the pad of his thumb before placing a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“Now let’s get goin’. I think my good girl deserves to be spoiled.”

—

Joel was back to teasing you as soon got in his truck and continued to do so the whole ride to the restaurant. He kept one hand on the wheel, using the other to slide up and down your thigh, occasionally fiddling with your garter straps or just brushing the lace edge of your thong with his fingertips.

And now you’re seated at a table in a dark corner of the dimly lit restaurant, and you can barely think straight. Joel had spoiled you with the most expensive champagne, far more appetizers than two people could possibly eat and a main course of delectable pasta on a plate bigger than your head. And of course, he looked devilishly handsome the whole night, and he knows it too, smirking and looking at you like he’s about to pounce across the table and devour you. Now you sat there with a full belly, but you were still hungry for revenge.

“What’d your coworkers say? When they saw you got promoted” Joel asks as he pours you both another glass of champagne. You furrow your brows at his question, so far away from even thinking of that whole situation at work and so turned on that you almost completely forgot about the reason why you’re even here right now.

You look up at his face, forcing yourself to peel your eyes away from the muscles bulging underneath his shirt as he sets the bottle back down. He has that knowing look in his eyes when you find them, his signature smirk thinly veiled with a sweet smile.

Without even trying to answer his question, you slide down slightly in your chair. He watches curiously as you shift in your seat for a few seconds. Just as he opens his mouth to ask you what you’re doing, your warm foot presses against the crotch of his pants.

He freezes in place. His hand visibly tightens around the stem of his champagne glass, and you can see the muscles in his jaw twitching. You fully expect him to push your foot back to the ground, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just leans back in his chair and spreads his knees giving you more room to work. He tilts his head and stares at you, a smirk creeping up on his lips when he sees the devious twinkle in your eye.

You look back with a smirk to match and experimentally wiggle your toes against him. Your heart pounds in your chest when he narrows his eyes at you and slowly moves his hand beneath the tablecloth. You stop wiggling your toes when he wraps his hand around your ankle, the heat radiating from his palm to your skin like a hot iron through the thin material of your stocking.

“Think about it, angel” he warns quietly. There’s a brief pause, where you pretend to weigh the risks and rewards, trying to decide whether to be good or bad. But your mind was made up before you even left the house.

After a few seconds, you smirk back at him and press the ball of your stockinged foot against him. Joel chuckles and leans back in his chair again, watching you amusedly. He doesn't move, barely even flinches when you press a little harder against him and it’s infuriating. It's completely unfair how he’s able to literally bring you to your knees with a single touch but remains completely composed when you touch him.

But what you don’t see is his heart hammering in his chest or the sweat starting to prickle the back of his neck. Truthfully, he had been just as turned on as you this whole time. Actually, he could feel the heat stirring the second that you told him about your promotion.

He was barely able to hold back when he was picking out your lingerie for the night. He had to take a break in the closet, leaning against the dresser as he took a couple of deep breaths to try and calm himself down.

And when he started dressing you, he could’ve come right there in his boxers at the sight of the garter belt sliding up your waist. Then the ride over here, the smell of your perfume mixing perfectly with his cologne in the cab of his truck, his head going fuzzy at the scent that seeped into the fabric of his seats, a reminder of you that’ll stick around for a few days.

And now with your foot covered in the delicate mesh of the stockings that he dressed you in pressing deliciously against his aching cock, he’s rapidly losing his self-control.

But Joel is just as stubborn as you, not willing to give in so easily.

So, he bites his tongue and suppresses any noise and tenses his muscles trying not to flinch. Because seeing you get frustrated like this was just turning him on even more. He’s about to say something but you see the waiter coming up behind him and immediately move your foot back to the floor and sit up straight.

Joel exhales heavily, releasing all the tension he was holding. He doesn’t even hear what the waiter says, too busy admiring the flustered look on your face and the slight shake in your voice as you talk to the waiter.

The waiter leaves after a few moments and you face Joel again with a mix between a pout and a glare.

“What was the plan there?” Joel asks, cocking his head to the side in mock curiosity while he secretly prays that his voice doesn’t crack.

You don’t respond, just keep glaring at him as you shove your foot back into the shoe.

“You were being so good, what happened?” Joel presses, each word drenched with sarcastic concern. He watches delightedly as you huff and cross your arms over your chest.

“S’okay, baby” Joel says, his voice dropping half an octave. Your stomach flutters with excitement.

This is exactly how Joel starts off every proposition and you can’t wait to see what he wants you to do next.

Joel pauses and looks at you with an evil glint in his eye. You should’ve seen this coming from miles away. But it still slaps you in the face when he says it.

“I want you to slip a hand under that pretty dress and touch yourself. Right here, right now.” Joel says so quietly that you barely hear him.

Your breath gets caught around the lump in your throat and Joel just smiles at you.

“Go on, baby. Since you’re so needy and set on bein’ bad” Joel encourages after a few seconds of you not moving. “Or we can get the paddle out when we get home?”

The threat of paddle was more than enough.

You glance around to see if anyone can see you like this. No one was sitting near you though, the booth you’re in provides a decent amount of privacy and all direct lines of sight to you are clear. With a gulp and shift down in your seat again and your pussy throbs, pathetically turned on as you slide your hand under the tablecloth and up your dress. You move slowly to slide two fingers into the side of your thong, just like Joel did an hour earlier.

It’s no shock how wet you are, the lace of your thong absolutely soaked, your whole cunt swollen and slick with it. Your eyes flit up to Joel’s and he gives you a small, encouraging nod.

“You’re soaked for me, aren’t you angel?” Joel asks. His voice is so calm and steady that you almost stop and get up to walk over to his side of the table and strangle him. You’re so turned on you can barely breathe, and you’re pissed at him for it. It’s maddening how he has you so needy and desperate for him that you’re willing to touch yourself in publicwhile he just watches.

You give into your temptations easily, working quickly to soothe the aching need that spreads across every single inch of your skin. You glance around again, making sure no one is looking before you ease your middle finger into your dripping entrance, your eyelashes fluttering a bit as you curl your fingers and press up against your g-spot.

Joel’s head is swimming as he watches you finger yourself right there in front of him in this restaurant. Any moment someone will pinch him and tell him to wake the fuck up because there’s no way in hell that this actually happening.

His head is foggy, turned on just as much as you are. His cock strains in his pants, tingles rushing down his spine as he stares at you, biting your lip, your eyes barely open and your eyebrows drawing together as you try to hold back soft moans.

He wants more.

“Faster.”

You snap your eyes open and look at him as if to ask if you heard him correctly. The look he gives you tells you that you absolutely did.

Well, you’re not gonna say no to that.

Your teeth sink deeper into your lip as you heed his orders and start pumping your finger faster. You’re painfully aware of any sounds you make, whether it’s a moan clawing its way up your throat or the slick sounds of your finger gliding through your folds, you try your best to keep it down.

Joel of course isn’t any help.

“Don’t be too loud, baby.” Joel whispers before taking a large swig of champagne. “Wouldn’t want ya to embarrass yourself”

You shoot daggers at him over the dinner table, but you don’t slow down. And now he’s stumped because does he punish you for being bad, playing footsies under the table with him and fingering yourself in public or should he praise you for being a good girl and listening to him.

“Baby,” Joel starts, his voice tight in his throat. “Show me, I want to see.”

To his surprise, you obey easily enough and slide your finger out from under your dress. You bring your hand out from under the tablecloth to present to Joel. His adam’s apple bob in his throat, swallowing thickly at the sight of your middle finger absolutely coated in your wetness, some of it glistening on your palm as well. He nearly loses it when you spread your fingers apart, thin strings of your arousal stretching between your digits.

“Fuck” Joel hisses. There’s a tingle of delight in your stomach as you watch him shift in his chair, finally starting to visibly crack.

He doesn’t say anything else, just reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket to grab his wallet. He hastily pulls out more than enough cash and nearly slams it on the table before standing up.

“C’mon” Joel commands firmly, extending his hand out to you. You blink at him, not moving a muscle otherwise. You don’t know why, something innate inside you when you’re around him, but even when you're inches away from an orgasm you still find room to be bratty.

“And what if I wanted dessert?”

Joel’s jaw clenches as he grinds his teeth together, the tendons in his neck pressing against his skin and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop the smirk forming on your face

“Angel,” Joel huffs. “Get up right now and I’ll give you anything you want.”

That’s all it takes. Joel shakes his head when you immediately grab his hand and pull yourself to stand up.

“Such a fuckin’ brat” Joel mumbles as he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into his side. He practically drags you out of the restaurant, his grip tight on your waist and your heels clicking on the asphalt as you trot next to him to keep up with his long strides as he speeds back to the truck.

Ever the gentleman, he opens the passenger door for you, keeping his eyes glued to your body as you climb inside. With you safely inside, he slams the door shut, the sound of your heavy breathing fills the otherwise silent cab of the truck as you watch him walk over to the driver’s side.

You wait a few moments to see if he’ll say anything, but he just stares straight ahead, the muscles in his jaw flexing subtly like he’s chewing over what he’s going to say next as he shoves the key into the ignition.

He backs out of the parking spot and leaves the parking lot without saying a single word. Meanwhile, you’re a mess sitting next to him,

You manage to keep your mouth shut for one whole minute.

“I was just following your instructions” you mumble, crossing your arms over your chest with an exaggerated pout. His jaw shifts to the side but he doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even look at you.

You sigh dramatically and glance sideways at him to see if he’s looking. But he keeps staring straight ahead. There’s a small part of you that realizes that this is probably all part of his grand plan to drive you up the wall, work you up until you can’t take it anymore. But there’s a much larger part of you that desperately wants his attention.

“And isn’t this my treat anyway? Shouldn’t I be getting what I want?” you press, dipping into dangerous territory just to try and get a reaction out of him.

Still nothing.

The thought of slipping your hand under your dress again crosses your mind, but his earlier threat of the paddle quickly extinguishes it.

All you can do is sit there with a pout etched into your face and ride the rest of the home in silence.

You’re about to explode when he pulls into the driveway. He slides out of his seat and strides over to your side and opens the door. The fire in his eyes burns fiercely as you take your sweet time climbing out. He slams the door shut behind you as soon as you’re out and turns on his heel and quickly makes his way to the door. You groan and actually stamp your foot in frustration. It’s just not fair.

You stomp towards the door, arms still crossed over your chest.

“You said you’d give me anything I want” you call after him, recalling his words from earlier as you make your way inside.

You barely make it through the door before he’s pushing you against it, using his whole body to keep you pinned in place. Your breath catches in your throat and your knees weaken instantly, all of your resolve immediately crumbling around your feet.

He has one hand on your waist while he braces himself with the other one on the wall next to your head. His face is inches from yours and you can smell the sweet champagne on his breath and the cologne on his skin. His eyes flit from yours to your lips, his pupils blown so wide that there’s just a sliver of brown around them

“I said if you were good” he hisses, his voice dangerously low. “What you pulled back there? That was bad, baby. Real bad.”

“You’re the one who told me to finger my-”

Joel’s hand flies from your waist to your throat, his broad palm pressing against your windpipe while he squeezes either side of your neck with his thumb and fingers. Heat surges down your spine and settles in your lower abdomen, your aching sex throbbing pathetically in response.

“Don’t you try to fuckin’ spin this on me, sweetheart” Joel snarls.

Maybe he meant to strike fear in you, maybe try to teach you a lesson. But it’s exactly what you want. Joel knows it too – you can tell by the slight smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips in response to your small, breathless gasp.

“Was just trying to be nice to you” he starts, his voice so low at the point you doubt you’d be able to hear him from any further away. “Try to take you out to a nice restaurant to celebrate and that’s how you repay me? Playin’ with me like that under the table and then actin’ like a spoiled brat all the way home?”

You both know he’s playing up his part. These were all minor infractions at best. Both of you knew that. You had been in this position for much, much worse behavior. But Joel isn’t dumb, and he’s well aware of what you want - to be tossed around a little, roughened up and broken down until you’re a squirming mess. And who is he to deny you of that?

You chew on your lip before muttering a small “M’sorry daddy”

Joel’s eyes narrow even more, the hand on your throat tightening slightly as your carefully chosen words have the exact intended effects on him.

“No, you ain’t” Joel growls. “But you will be. Get on your fuckin’ knees.”

He drops the hand from your throat and takes a step back. You exhale the breath you were holding, and you stare at him as his hands fall to his belt. Just the thought of having him in your mouth has you nearly drooling.

But you’re not done yet.

“No” you say plainly, crossing your arms over your chest once again.

Joel’s hands freeze on his belt, his eyes burning holes into you as you stare right back, not moving an inch from where you’re standing.

He raises one eyebrow slightly as if to say I hope I didn’t hear what I just heard but you remain silent and motionless. After a few long moments of complete silence, Joel chuckles softly, his hands falling to his sides in defeat. He gives you one more look and then shakes his head before turning around and heading towards the bedroom.

You’re about to call after him, ask him where he’s going, but his earlier threat of the paddle floats through your mind once again. That has you panicking nearly instantly.

You watch in disbelief as he disappears up the stairs. Your legs feel as though they’re stuck in wet concrete, and it takes a few seconds to coordinate your mind and body to get you to move. You scamper after him, a cold sweat tingling on the back of your neck as you head towards the bedroom.

He’s sitting on the edge of the bed when you walk in, in the middle of untying his shoes. You stand in front of him, arms behind your back and patiently wait for him to toe his shoes off.

He kicks them to the side then looks up at you with a heavy sigh, like your behavior is causing him physical pain. You offer him a meek smile as he rests his palms behind him on the mattress and leans back, his eyes raking over your body as he does so.

He doesn’t say anything, which you take as an invitation.

You move to climb into his lap. He doesn’t reprimand you, but he doesn’t move to hold you either.

You sit on your knees, your legs straddling his. You can feel him through his pants and your soaked panties, still hard as diamonds. That’s a good sign at least.

“M’sorry, daddy” you say again, much more sincerely this time. You bring your hands up to fiddle with the collar of his shirt, avoiding his eyes as you wait for a response that never comes.

“Just wanted to play” you confess quietly. Joel still doesn't say anything, but his eyes follow your hands as you start toying with the buttons of his shirt.

“And you just looked so handsome tonight” you continue, undoing the first button. You wait again. Still no response.

“Thank you for taking me out” you say as you undo the next button.

“And for dressing me up”

Another button.

“Making me feel so beautiful”

And another.

You undo the last button then push away both sides so that his whole torso is on display for you. You stare for a second, fixated on the steady rise and fall of his broad chest, the soft curve of his tummy, and the trail of hair disappearing under the waistband of his pants.

He remains silent still as you place your hands on his abdomen and slowly slide them up to his shoulders before crossing your arms behind his neck. Finally, you drag your eyes up and look at him through your lashes. His gaze is soft and much warmer than you were expecting.

“Promise I’ll be good.” you say, barely above a whisper.

He gives you a half smile and brings a hand up to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing across your bottom lip.

“You want daddy to make you feel good? Want me to fuck you til you fuckin’ stupid” Joel asks, tilting his head to the side acting like he doesn’t know the answer.

You nod vigorously and poke your tongue out to lick at the tip of his thumb, just for good measure.

“Thought so” Joel says as he pushes his thumb past your lips. You suck on it eagerly and let him press down on your tongue, your clit twitching with desperate need.

“Then why don’t you show daddy how sorry you are, and I might reconsider gettin’ the paddle out.”

You immediately pull off his thumb and sink to your knees without any further instruction. You reach for his belt, deft fingers unbuckling the belt that you’ve undone so many times before, his button and zipper following soon after.

He stops you there and moves to stand up. You sit back on your knees with your hands on your thighs and watch as he quickly shucks off his shirt, tossing it somewhere behind him. You chew on your lip as he pulls down the waistband of his pants and boxers, his cock bobbing heavily as he steps out of them.

Your completely transfixed by it, the veins running along the length, the redden head and the drops of precum leaking from the slit. You don’t even realize you’re staring until he slides a finger under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him.

“Turn around” he instructs simply.

You have no reason to disobey at this point, so you do as you’re told, turning in the small space between Joel’s leg and the edge of the bed. He takes another step forward, backing you up into the side of the mattress.

“S’this what you wanted, baby?” he coos as he wraps a hand around himself.

“Yes, daddy. Always want it” you respond. You look up at him through your lashes, batting them for added effect.

“Yeah, I know you do” he rasps, taking another small step forward. He rests the head of his cock on your bottom lip, smearing precum. You dart your tongue out to lick it up.

He drags the tip of his cock from your lips to your cheek, smearing more precum on your skin and giving you a few light smacks for good measure.

It’s degrading, and should be humiliating, but it just makes your head spin, the fire in your stomach rapidly growing as you open your mouth for him, giving him silent permission to use you however he pleases.

He groans softly as he pushes past your lips, sinking into the wet heat of your mouth. He’s only halfway in when you gag around him, tears already pricking at your waterline.

“Oh, you know you can take it deeper than that, angel”

He places both hands on the back of your head, gently forcing you down the rest of his length. You let him, focusing on breathing through your nose as rolls his hips forward until he’s buried in your throat. You gag again once he’s all the way in, but he keeps your head in place, holding you there for a few more seconds, groaning as your throat convulses around him

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. Got that throat fuckin’ trained”

He pulls out, allows you to take a gulp of air before he’s shoving back in again. His hips quickly settle into a steady rhythm, his cock nudging the back of your throat with every thrust. You brace yourself with one hand on his thigh and you can feel the muscles working under your palm.

“Spoiled little brat just needed daddy to fuck her throat, huh?”

You hum around him in response, reveling in the feeling of his cock twitching against your tongue. He continues to fuck your face, completely unconcerned with the tears rolling down your cheeks and the spit leaking out of the corners of your mouth. He moves one hand from your head to your throat, his palm splaying across your windpipe. He tightens his grip just slightly, pushing against the bulge of his head buried deep in your throat.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans, thrusting in all the way and staying there. “Love feelin’ myself in that tight little throat”

The fire in your tummy burns with blinding heat at his praise. A dull ache starts to settle in your jaw as salvia slides down your chin and neck, more hot tears spilling over your lash line as you squeeze your eyes shut and try your best not to gag.

“Take it so well” Joel pants as he starts to rock his hips again. “Fuckin’ made to take my cock.”

The lack of air already has you feeling dizzy, and his words are only adding to the feeling. He’s not wrong –with him fucking your face like this, a strong hand on your head and the other wrapped firmly around your throat, it feels like your sole purpose in life is to please him, to be a toy he can use to make himself feel good. And you fucking love it.

After one more strong thrust, he pulls out of your mouth completely. His cock is dripping with your saliva, a string of it connecting his head to your swollen lips.

“Look at you” Joel coos. You look up at him through wet lashes.

“Bein’ so good for me.”

He moves his hand on your throat to your cheek, cupping your jaw as he wipes some of the tears away with his thumb. He then rubs it over your wet, glossy lips, and you already know what he wants next.

“Open” he commands gently, his thumb tugging down on your bottom lip.

You obey immediately, your jaw hanging open and a smile pulls at the corner of your lips. You watch hungrily as he gathers the salvia in his mouth before he bends down slightly. He lets it drip into your awaiting mouth and you hum happily as the liquid hits your tongue.

“Good fuckin’ girl” he rasps before spitting again, this time with more force. A small moan finds its way out of you as you keep your mouth open and let the warm liquid pool on your tongue until he gives you further directions.

“Swallow it.”

You do so happily, and he hums in approval before standing up straight again. He grabs his cock and guides it to your lips again. He allows you to take one deep breath before he’s pushing in again, his fingers now digging into your jaw, his other hand back on your head as he guides your movements.

“Such a slut for it, aren’t ya?”

You nod the best you can with his cock filling your mouth. He holds you steady, giving a few well-measured thrusts down your throat before pulling out again, leaving you coughing mess below him. He looks at you lovingly as you gasp and try to catch your breath, your lips cherry red, matching the color of the rims of your eyes.

“Doin’ okay?” he asks, voice soft and gentle.

You nod again and give him a dazed smile before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Good girl. Now stand up.”

Joel reaches out to hold your arm as you pull yourself to stand on weak legs, your knees tight and sore from kneeling on the floor. But you couldn’t care less.

He uses both hands to hike up the hem of your dress, making quick work of lifting it up and over your head. He quickly discards it to a forgotten corner of the room before planting a wide, calloused palm square on your chest and pushing you down onto the mattress.

You land on flat on your back against plush mattress, your legs dangling off the edge. Joel reaches for a pillow, and you lift your head so he can slide it underneath. Your skin buzzes as you watch him take his place, standing at the edge of the bed between your legs.

“So fucking pretty” Joel mutters as he smooths a hand down your front from the hollow of your throat to the tops of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in his wake. He plucks at one of the black satin garter straps, letting it snap against your skin. It barely stings and you giggle and wiggle your hips in pure excitement.

Your hungry eyes rake down his body before settling on his cock again, shiny from your spit as it bobs heavily between his legs.

He starts working on undoing the clasps of the straps without preamble, letting you know that he’s not in the mood to take things slow, which you appreciate greatly.

He has all four straps undone in a matter of seconds and tugs at the belt. You lift your hips, helping him to slide it down your hips and legs. The speed and carelessness he exerts as he pulls the fabric off your body is a stark contrast from how concentrated he was while dressing you in it just a few hours ago.

With the belt out the way, he cups your pussy in his hand. The heel of his hand presses against your swollen clit through the delicate fabric of your thong, his fingers pressing firmly against the damp spot that’s been there since before you left the house.

You whine, a high-pitched sound from the back of your throat. Joels eyes flick up from between your legs to your face, a wicked smirk curling on his lips.

“Such a needy little pussy” he says darkly, pressing his hand further against your core. You roll your hips up and grind against his hand, chasing after the friction you’ve been craving all evening.

But he immediately removes his hand and gives you firm smack instead. You yelp at the sensation, your clit tingling and pulsing.

“Wanna hear you beg for it.”

He drags his fingertips along on the edges of your panties, his touch featherlight and torturously slow. There’s a small part of you that wants to say no, that wants to argue with him, push him further, just to see what would happen.

But you’re 10 levels above desperate for his touch.

“Please daddy, w-want it so bad”

Joel clicks his tongue and lands another light slap to your clothed pussy. You bite back another yelp and will your hips to stay still.

“You know you can do better than that. Try again, tell daddy exactly what you want”

You squeeze your eyes shut, well beyond frustrated at this point. You suck in a deep, steadying breath and exhale is slowly before opening your eyes again to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark, and his jaw is tight as he looks back at you.

“Want you to fuck me, want you so deep inside me that I can barely breathe, want you to be rough with me, make sure I can feel it for days, please daddy please. I promise I’ll be good, just – please I ne-”

You cut yourself off when Joel digs his fingers into the lace of your thong, the sound of tearing fabric hitting your ears as he rips it off of you.

“Joel!” you shout, sitting up on your elbows to look at him.

He doesn't say anything, just grabs your hips and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed. But you’re still stuck on the fact that he just casually ripped off your panties like that.

“Thought those were your favorite pair” you mumble, looking at the discarded fabric sitting on the bed.

“Shut up” Joel grunts as he wraps a hand around the base of his cock, steadying himself and lining up at your dripping entrance. “I’ll buy you more.”

You’re about to say something back, but he slides in before as soon as you open your mouth, effectively taking your breath away.

The stretch of his thick cock inside you as he sinks in all the way in one smooth motion is enough to wipe your brain clean.

He stays still once he’s inside, his tip kissing your cervix. He curses under his breath as your walls spasm around him, already milking him for all that he’s worth.

“Always so fuckin’ tight for me. Perfect little pussy.”

You let him maneuver you into position, one of his hands cupping the back of your knee, lifting your leg up to rest on his shoulder, both of you sighing as the angle pushes him just a bit deeper. He brings your other leg up but keeps it pinned to the bed with a strong hand on your thigh, leaving you spread open just for him.

Without warning, he draws his hips back, sliding nearly all the way out before slamming back in.

You cry out, your hands scrambling for purchase on the duvet. You’ve taken him countless times before. But he’s big. And no matter how wet or turned on you are, without opening you up first on his fingers, your walls are aching and tingling as he forces your body to mold to his.

And it’s exactly what you asked for.

He grinds his pelvis against your clit, his cock bumping into a spot that’s impossibly deep inside of you. You jolt at the sensation and reflexively try to scoot up the bed, your already overwhelmed body trying to get away from the intense feeling.

“Oh, don’t run from it now” Joel growls, grabbing one of your hips and forcing you back down on his cock. “Begged for it all night, so I’m gonna fuckin’ give it to ya”

“S-so much daddy, you’re so– oh fuck. You’re so fucking big” You whimper pathetically, your hands gripping the duvet so tight that your nails are digging into your palms even through the barrier of the fabric.

“I know it’s a lot, angel. But you can take it,” Joel pants. “Can’t you?”

You nod lazily against the pillow as he pulls out again.

“What’s your safeword” he asks, the head of his cock resting just a few inches inside of you, providing you with enough relief to answer.

“Red” you whine.

“Good girl. Do you wanna use it?”

You immediately shake your head

“No.”

“That’s my girl” Joel growls before slamming back in again, knocking the air straight out of your lungs. Your back arches with the feeling as he quickly builds up his pace.

He fucks into you like it’s his last day on earth, fast and rough, just like you begged for. Just like he knows you need. Your whole body feels electrified while moans tumble freely past your lips, your eyes rolling back into your head.

With your eyes closed, you don’t see it, but you do feel Joel’s lips pressing against your ankle that’s resting on his shoulder, lips warm and wet through the sheer fabric of the stocking that he never took off.

“Little pussy is takin’ me so well, angel” Joel mumbles against your ankle “Feel so good wrapped around me, squeezing me like that”

He starts a trail of kisses from your ankle to your knee, his hips not faltering in pace, not even once. The last of the stinging ache melts away as your walls stretch to fully accommodate him. He has an iron grip on your ankle, and his fingers on his other hand dig into the meat of your thigh, creating small purple marks under the smooth skin. The hot coil in your stomach is starting to tighten as you moan incessantly. And of course, Joel notices.

“Get those tits out, angel.”

You whimper underneath him and try your best to follow his instructions. Your arms feel like cinder blocks as you unclench your fists from the duvet and move your hands to your chest. You grab the cups of your bralette and tug them down, letting your breast spill out over the tops.

Joel gives you a few words of praise that you can’t fully process. You already feel delirious, his cock quickly turning you into a useless, needy puddle underneath him.

“Play with ‘em for me.”

You do as your told and cup your breasts, one in each hand before gently tweaking your nipples with your thumb and forefinger. Joel gives you more indistinguishable praise as you let your eyes slip closed again, completely surrendering to the pleasure coursing through your veins.

The hand that Joel has wrapped around your ankle slides down to the back of your thigh, pushing on your leg and forcing your knee into your chest and sending his cock even deeper.

“Ohhh, daddy shit fuckfuckfuckk” you whine as the head of his cock nudges against the spot that only he has ever found over and over again, the same spot he finds every single time.

“There ya go” he whispers as you start to squirm underneath him, your jaw slack and your walls fluttering around him. “You gonna cum, pretty girl? Gonna make a mess on daddy’s cock?”

You nod vigorously but you already know he wants more than that.

“Want–” you try to start, but Joel’s hand landing on your clit steals your breath, a loud moan coming out instead.

“C’mon, baby. Keep goin” Joel urges breathlessly, two of his fingers rubbing tight circles on your clit. “Sound so pretty when you beg. Look at me while you do it.”

You groan and open your eyes again to meet his gaze. His chest is heaving with every breath, muscles flexing deliciously as he fucks you with everything that he has, pounding you further and further into the mattress.

“Please let me cum daddy, M’so close –ah oh my god please let me cum please please please let me.”

“You can cum, angel. Keep those eyes on me and show me how pretty you look when you cum on this cock”

It’s only a few more seconds of him pummeling into you and his fingers drawing expert circles on your clit to send you over the edge.

You lock eyes with him and let out a long, loud moan as your orgasm starts to rip through you, your whole body trembling with pure, white hot bliss. He fucks you through it, on the heels of his own release as you shake underneath him, your warm, wet walls rhythmically clenching and fluttering so perfectly around him.

“Gonna make me cum, honey” Joel grits out, his pace getting more and more uneven.

“Inside” you manage to whine, still riding out the last of your orgasm.

“Yeah, baby, I know. Gonna fill you up so good”

One, two, three more thrusts until you feel his cock pulsing as he starts to spill his load deep inside of you with a loud groan from somewhere deep in his chest. He keeps fucking you, pushing his spend deeper and deeper inside of you until he he’s too sensitive to continue. He buries himself in you as deep as he can and stills.

After a few moments, Joel straightens your legs out on the mattress then pulls out of you, moving off of you and flopping down flat on his back next to you with a heavy sigh.

Labored breaths are the only sound in the room as you both come down. You whole body feels like jell-o, all thoughts moving slowly through your syrupy head. You can’t help but giggle next to him, feeling positively euphoric after getting your brains fucked out of your skull.

Joel turns his head to look at you.

“What’re you laughin’ at?” he asks, a smile quickly spreading on his face. He rolls onto his side and props his head up on his hand. He wraps his other arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, despite you being dead weight right now.

You look up at him, eyes hooded with a lazy smile. You try to think of something to say but all you can manage is another giggle, which makes Joel chuckle too.

“You’re such a goose” he says, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“Thought I was a spoiled little brat?”

Joel rolls his eyes and rests his cheek on his hand again, his smile still glued to his face.

“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”

“So, I’m a spoiled little bratty goose?”

“Mhmm.”

You grin and scoot closer into him.

“That sounds like a lot to handle”

You squeal when he pinches your hip.

“Tell me about it,” Joel sighs, lying his head down on the mattress and wrapping his body around yours. You smile like an idiot with your face squished against his chest, fully satisfied once again.

Thank god you got that promotion.

Thank you for reading I love all sm!!!

#joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #the last of us #tlou fic #joel miller #pedro pascal characters

2K notes · View notes

supernovafics · 2 months

Text

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 4.3k words

warnings: explicit language, brief mention of weed, a bit of angst

summary: a power outage leaves you stuck at steve’s apartment for the night

CHAPTER SEVEN | ❝𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌❞

Winter 2015

The call connected after only a few rings. “Hey.”

“Hey, Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you too,” Eddie responded. “Did it end up snowing by you?”

“Yeah, only a couple of inches, but it’s still something.”

“Make a snowman in honor of me and send me a picture.”

You laughed a little. “It’ll be the smallest snowman in the world because there’s barely any snow on the ground, Edward.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

“Fine, I’m not gonna do it now since it’s two in the morning, but I’ll do it tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” He said and you could hear the smile in his voice.

Things became comfortably quiet for a few moments and you kept the phone at your ear as you moved about your kitchen, searching for something to eat and ultimately settling for a bowl of dry cereal.

“What are you doing right now?”

“Getting a snack.”

“Cereal?”

“Of course,” You nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “You know me so well.”

“I think I’ll always remember that because it's such a random thing,” He told you and you laughed at that.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting outside smoking.”

“I wish I was there right now,” You told him. “It’s so quiet here because my dad’s not really around. Plus, I really like your hometown.”

“Come here for spring break.”

You didn’t even need to think about his words before you were agreeing. “Okay.”

“Great,” He said. “And you already know about my very loud and obnoxious neighbors, so you’ll like it. It’s rarely ever quiet here.”

You smiled. “Any new stories to share?”

He told you about an argument he overheard yesterday, something about a lawn mower, and then the two of you talked about nothing for the next hour as you leaned back against your kitchen counter eating your cereal and Eddie smoked weed in his front yard. You could tell that he was already tired only half an hour into the call, it was always easy to hear the sleepiness in his voice, but he stayed on for you. You talked until you finally got tired, a yawn escaping your lips as you went upstairs to your childhood bedroom.

“Goodnight. Sorry for keeping you on the phone for so long.”

“No apology needed. I wanted to talk to you.”

You were shaking your head as you got under your covers. “You’re just way too nice to me.”

“I gotta be nice or else I’ll never get my tiny snowman,” He joked and you smiled at that. “G’night.”

“Bye.”

You two hung up then, and you became engulfed in silence and darkness; the soothing and comforting kind that made your eyelids feel heavy. But before you could fall asleep, you thought about the kiss— that quick moment played on what felt like a constant loop in your head.

At first, you had wanted to just forget about it, and a part of you wished that you simply didn’t remember it like Eddie didn’t. But, the more you thought about it over the last few days that you’d been home, the more it felt easier to convince yourself that maybe it was a good thing that it happened. Because you couldn’t help but still believe that it had to mean something.

That entire night had to mean something, actually. Eddie didn’t have his date with Chrissy; you still didn’t know the reason why she canceled it at the last second. And he kissed you at that party— even though he didn’t remember it, it still happened.

You considered finally, finally taking the plunge and just telling him how you felt when you both were back from break. Simply letting it out and letting everything else fall into the places that they were meant to fall. And somehow, the thought of finally doing it, finally admitting the truth, didn’t scare you as much as it once did.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

You tried to figure out if the silence that you and Steve were currently sitting in was comfortable or not. It felt equal parts good and bad, too much and just fine, and weird but also not really.

You shifted slightly on the couch, which you and Steve were currently sitting on opposite sides of, folding your legs under yourself. Things didn’t immediately become quiet between you two when the power went out. Instead, you followed him, using your phone as a flashlight, as he went to find the candles he had around; there were only three. He lit them and set them on the coffee table in the living room and then that was when you two settled on the couch, a quietness starting to linger.

It was late, getting close to midnight, and a part of you wanted to go to sleep, but there was no way that you’d be able to do so with how silent it was, and you didn’t think that you’d be able to bear sitting in it all night. Maybe it wasn’t too comfortable after all.

You were reminded of when you and Eddie met; the broken down elevator and random conversation that forged an immediate friendship. For obvious reasons, this moment was pretty different— you and Steve weren’t strangers, although you definitely didn’t feel that far off from it, and you knew that you’d be at Steve’s place for much longer than you’d been stuck in the elevator with Eddie.

Because of that, you were abruptly breaking the silence with the first thing that came to your mind.

“Do you remember what your last dream was about?”

Steve was clearly surprised by the randomness of your question because all he responded with was “What?” and let out a confused laugh.

“Things are way too quiet right now and that was the first question that came to my mind,” You told him with a shrug. “So, do you remember your last dream?”

“Um, kinda?” He said and then paused for a moment to think. “I’m pretty sure I was just driving. But, it was in a different country because I was driving on the other side of the road.”

There was something about the mundanity of his dream that was both boring and kind of soothing to hear about. “That’s so normal.”

“What was yours?”

You were thinking for a second before it hit you; the dream that you’d had a few nights ago that was the most recent one you remembered. “I got pushed off a cliff.”

Steve looked at you. It was too dark to read his expression, the candles weren’t doing much to light up the space, but you imagined it was one of confusion. “That sounds much more like a nightmare than a dream.”

“Yeah, abruptly waking up from that was a great way to start my Friday morning,” You responded. “I rarely remember regular dreams where I’m just doing dumb normal stuff. It’s always those falling ones that stick and they actually happen a lot. Before the cliff thing, I remember one where I was tumbling down a hill.”

“You’re talking about this so normally that I don’t know if I should feel bad or not.”

You laughed a little as you shook your head. “Definitely don’t feel bad. Just please tell me about any recurring nightmares you’ve had before.”

“I used to have this one where I’m playing basketball and then I get injured; broken ankle, broken leg, stuff like that,” He told you, which made you inwardly wince because that sounded a thousand times worse than your falling dreams. “That nightmare doesn’t happen that much anymore now, though. It used to happen a lot right when I actually got hurt playing a couple years ago.”

You nodded at that. “Oh, is that why you stopped?”

“Yeah, that injury was pretty fucked…” His eyes pulled away from yours and focused on something else. You were able to read that pretty easily; his want for the subject to change and shift away from him having to talk about his injury and probably basketball in general.

“Y’know, I’m just now realizing that we don’t really know anything about each other. Actually, I’m not just now realizing that, I’ve been thinking about it for the past few days. How this whole thing between me and you feels like when you get partnered up on a project with that one person in class that you never really talked to before,” You were pretty much rambling at this point so you decided to stop. “But, yeah, anyway, the sentiment still stands. We know nothing about each other.”

“I think saying nothing is kind of a stretch,” Steve said, eyes meeting yours again. “I know you’re an English major and you love reading, which of course makes sense. And you have a bunch of roommates; you were just gonna have one, but then that changed to three.”

It didn’t entirely surprise you to hear all of the stuff that he had remembered from the date; it had only been a little over a week ago. What did surprise you was that you couldn’t really say the same. The only things you remembered learning about him were his major and minor, which you already knew, and the fact that he didn’t like reading— you were vaguely reminded of an Italian mouse book series that he had apparently really liked in fifth grade.

“Oh my god, did I seriously only talk about myself during our date?” You said, suddenly feeling entirely too embarrassed by just how true your words were. “I didn’t think I was that much of a narcissist.”

“You’re not. I just didn’t talk about myself that much,” Steve told you with a shrug.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why?”

He sighed. “You’re gonna think I’m an asshole.”

For some reason, that made you smile. “Now, I definitely wanna hear it.”

He sighed again and for a second you thought that he just wasn’t going to tell you, but then he was speaking. “I always do that on dates because it’s just the easiest way to keep things surface level and not serious.”

It surprised you that he sounded a little embarrassed to admit that.

“I don’t think that makes you an asshole,” You said, and you were actually being honest. You really didn’t think that him basically putting up walls was an inherently shitty thing to do, but it did sound the tiniest bit sad. You didn’t want to say that, though. “Are you tired right now?” Another conversation shift, solely for the reason that you wanted to keep things simple and easy. This was only the second real and non-fake dating conversation you two were having and you didn’t want it to lead to you two bearing your souls to each other in the dark. It felt way too soon for those kinds of conversations, and you didn’t know if you’d even get to that place with him before the month was over and you two “broke up” and went your separate ways.

“No,” He answered with a quick shake of his head, which you were glad for because you were nowhere near being tired either. “Are you?”

“Not even close,” You responded. “Do you have any games we can play or something?”

“I have a deck of cards.”

“That works.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

You two didn’t end up playing any actual card games. Steve attempted to teach you poker, but after only a few rounds you hated it, and there were no other games that either of you could think of with simple enough rules that you could teach him or he could teach you. Therefore, you two instead started playing with the cards themselves, attempting to build little card houses and other things, which was Steve’s suggestion.

It had been quiet for the past few minutes, but surprisingly comfortably so. You could feel yourself becoming the tiniest bit tired, but at the same time not at all.

“Do you like living alone?” You asked as you attempted to stand two cards up to make a sort of triangle shape and balance on each other, which actually wasn’t that easy.

“Yeah, definitely,” Steve nodded. You two were sitting on opposite sides of his coffee table and the candles had been moved to the floor— which probably should’ve felt more like a bad idea— to make room on the table. “The roommate I had Freshman year was horrible.”

You laughed at that. “I also had a shitty roommate experience Freshman year, but I still love having roommates…” You trailed off as you tried to think of the perfect way to fully sum up your thoughts toward your current roommate situation. “It feels like summer camp, but without the poison ivy and multiple cases of mono.”

Steve gave you an amused look. “What kinds of insane summer camps did you used to go to?”

“Really bad ones,” You told him. “And I hated it every year, but my parents were obsessed with sending me to them— especially after they got divorced— because they worked a lot and didn’t want me to be alone all the time.”

“Okay, now it makes sense why you like having roommates.”

You nodded. “Only child and divorced parents. Terrible combo. I hate when things are too quiet.”

You pulled your eyes away from the cards that you finally managed to make stand on their own to look at what Steve was doing. He was much farther along than you were at building something that actually looked interesting.

“You’re weirdly good at this,” You said when your cards fell again and instead of immediately trying to stand them back up, you watched as Steve kept building some sort of pyramid.

He shrugged. “I don’t know why, but I used to always do this when I was bored as a kid.”

“That’s actually quite wholesome,” You told him as you picked up your two cards. A beat of silence lingered for a moment before you were speaking. “So, did you ever go to camp or were your summers spent playing with cards like a bored child in the fifties?”

The laugh Steve let out at your joke made you smile. “I only went to camp twice; when I was twelve and then thirteen. It felt a lot like the kind of summer camp that you’d see in any movie. Lots of lake stuff and campfires and that type of thing. The first year kinda sucked, but the second year was fun. I even had a camp girlfriend.”

You let out an exaggerated gasp. “Wow, you actually had a girlfriend?”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, it was the greatest three-week-long relationship ever.”

What happened?

That was what you wanted to ask— not what happened to the camp girlfriend because you obviously knew how those relationships went. But what happened to him wanting crushes and relationships and actual feelings?

You didn’t ask that, though. You felt like you couldn’t; the question felt too deep, too real. And you also thought that it would be kind of pointless to ask it.

“Do you think it’s working?” Steve asked, abruptly pulling you out of your thoughts.

“What?”

“This fake dating thing. Do you think it’s working for you?”

“Oh, yeah, sometimes I think it actually is. Like, after game night, Eddie stayed over at the apartment and we watched TV for a few hours and then he randomly asked if I really liked you. I told him yes— obviously— and he said “Cool,” but there was this certain look on his face too. I couldn’t tell what exactly it was, but it felt like something,” You said, thinking back to that Monday night. “But, then, I also think it’s not really working because nothing like that has happened since.”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t know if that’s true. The party a few days ago didn’t feel like nothing.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, it looked pretty clear that he didn’t want you to stay with me,” He told you and you weren’t entirely sure how true that was, the end of the night was a little bit of a blur, but you did believe Steve. “Have you ever thought that something was going to happen between you and him before? Like, moments that made it feel obvious or whatever?”

Your mind traveled to the drunken kiss at the frat party Freshman year. A fleeting kiss that felt like a distant memory at this point, and the tiniest bit like a dream. What also felt like a dream, or more so a nightmare, was the day that you came back from Winter break, weeks after the kiss. You had finally worked up the courage to tell Eddie how you felt and you were knocking on his door to do it before you could convince yourself not to. He opened the door after only a second and there he was with Chrissy.

You didn’t immediately know it was her; at first, she was simply just a random girl wearing his t-shirt. What happened over those next few minutes was Eddie explaining to you that they met up during the last few days of break and the rest was history. They seemed happier than ever and you knew for certain that your chance was gone.

You hated thinking about that moment. You remembered feeling stupidly hopeful, like everything was going to finally fall into place for you and him, and then feeling severely disappointed, but having to hide that with a happy smile. From there you pushed everything to the side— went back to pretending that you felt nothing romantic for your best friend and simply avoided thinking about it altogether. Until they broke up and now here you were back to pining.

It felt way too embarrassing to admit all of that to Steve right then.

“Um, I don’t know…” You finally said, trailing off and shrugging. “Sometimes it’s hard to differentiate the moments that are solely friendly with the moments that could maybe mean something more.”

If Steve could tell that you were lying and avoiding saying a lot more, he didn’t call you out on it; which you were glad for. Instead, he simply nodded at your words.

You pushed up the sleeves of your sweater. “These candles are making it really warm in here.”

“I can give you something to wear if you want, so you’re not in jeans and a sweater all night.”

You hesitated just for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, that would be good, thanks.”

You followed him to his room and stood by the door as he went to grab something for you. When he handed the clothes over, you saw that it was a t-shirt and basketball shorts. You went to the bathroom to change, keeping the door cracked so that it wasn’t entirely pitch black.

You put on the shorts first and then slipped the shirt over your head. It smelled just like Steve, which shouldn’t have been surprising at all since these were his clothes, but you still were a little startled. Maybe it felt more surprising to you that you were able to easily recognize his smell; that you could get hit with the scent of something that was somehow equal parts musky and sweet and immediately place it as Steve.

It felt weird and almost too much, and a part of you wanted to take off his shirt, but you knew that it probably would’ve been weirder and more of a big deal if you did. So, you didn’t take it off and instead decided to actively not think about why it had felt weird to you at all.

When you returned to the living room, you sat on Steve’s side of the table because you wanted to lean back against the couch. The pyramid he had been building was gone and instead, he just had a few cards in his hand. You noticed him yawn, which made you realize that you still weren’t really tired, and you also wondered what time it was. You grabbed your phone off the table to check the time; 1:17a.m.

“Are you tired now?” You asked Steve as you placed your phone back down. You knew what answer you were expecting to get from him, but you still wanted to ask the question anyway.

“Not really, no,” He answered, and you, of course, didn’t believe him.

“You can go to sleep if you want,” You said, glancing at him. “I’ll be fine out here.”

You probably would end up staying up all night if he did leave you right then, but you didn't want to force him to stay awake with you if he was tired.

“It’s okay,” He said. “Let’s just keep talking.”

You still weren’t completely convinced, but you nodded at his words anyway.

“This is random, but sometimes Talia bakes in the middle of the night whenever she’s stressed and can’t sleep,” You told him and then let out a small laugh. “And she’s a very noisy baker. I was woken up many, many times to the sound of a mixer last semester.”

Steve turned his head to look at you. “Isn’t that annoying?”

“A little bit, yeah. But she thankfully got one of those stand mixers that are pretty quiet last month, so now it’s not that bad,” You said, and you briefly thought back to a few weeks ago when she made blueberry muffins on a random Tuesday night. “Also, we wake up to freshly baked muffins in the morning so that makes it okay too.”

“Okay, yeah, maybe the muffins make it worth it.”

“Very much so.”

You poked at a few of the cards on the table, flipping them over and then flipping them back just so you could have something to do with your hands.

“Tell me about your Freshman year roommate,” Steve said. You’d forgotten that that had been briefly brought up in the conversation earlier. “Any shitty stories to share?”

“Oh, a lot. I’m pretty sure she hated me. She never blatantly said that, but it just felt obvious. Anyway, though, she always brought people over and never told me about it. I lost count of how many times I walked in on her and some guy mid-makeout,” You quickly explained. “That was actually how me and Eddie got really close. He lived across the hall from me, and his roommate was barely ever around, so I would always go over to his dorm when my roommate was being annoying.”

“Okay, she sounds a thousand times worse than how mine was. He would mainly just leave trash everywhere and play music really loud.”

“That sounds like heaven compared to the shit I had to deal with.”

“It was still enough to make me never want a roommate again,” Steve responded, putting the cards in his hand down on the table and leaning back against the couch. “I don’t mind the quietness that comes with no one else being here.”

“Okay, this question is very random and probably dumb, but why did you say yes to the blind date thing when Eddie asked you?” You weren’t entirely sure why you asked that, but you were curious, and also finally starting to get a little tired so your mind was moving to even more random places. The kinds of places that it wouldn’t have gone to if your lack of sleep from the night before wasn’t beginning to catch up with you.

“He made you sound really cool and nice and—”

You stopped Steve mid-sentence. “Okay, wait, never mind, pretend I didn’t ask. It feels weird hearing that, actually.”

“Honestly, I think he probably does feel the same as you. The way he talked about you that day felt different than just how a friend talks about another friend, now that I'm really thinking about it.”

You weren’t entirely sure how to respond to that.

It was hard to tell the difference between having false hope and having expectations that were actually realistic enough to be fulfilled. You didn’t know where this Eddie thing lay. It felt so in the middle, perfectly toeing the line.

You leaned back against the couch and that was when you noticed how close you and Steve were sitting. Your sides just barely touched, the short sleeves of your respective shirts lightly brushing, but you didn’t feel the need to move over.

“So, if this fake dating thing ends up working for you, and you’re not forced to go to the Hamptons to find your future wife, do you know what you’re gonna do for the summer?”

You figured that, at the end of the day, if what you two were doing didn’t end up working out on your side of things, at least Steve would hopefully get something good out of it.

“I’m not sure yet. Maybe go to Europe for a bit with a few friends.”

“That’s very rich kid of you to say,” You joked.

Steve laughed a little. “Do you know what you’re gonna do?”

“I don’t know,” You shrugged. “But, I do know that it probably won’t include backpacking around Europe.”

The conversation continued moving in different directions from there, but it slowly started to fade out. With both of you saying things that probably didn’t make too much sense and probably wouldn’t even be remembered in the morning because you were falling asleep as you were talking and the lines between what was real and what felt like a dream became blurred. At some point, you were closing your eyes and leaning your head against Steve’s shoulder because you were too tired to think better of it.

The night had felt entirely unexpected, but you were glad that it happened. You were happy about the stupid storm and stupid power outage.

Finally, you felt like you actually knew him— not just the stuff that mattered for fake dating. He was your friend now and you were his. Neither of you would end up saying that in the morning or anytime soon, but it felt pretty obvious.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa , @mochminnie , @munsonssweets , @blckbrrybasket , @xprloki , @definitionwanderlust , @dwcode , @sun-fiower-seed , @keerysfolklore , @damon-loves-pie , @lodeddiperrodrick , @bisexual-and-intellectual

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington series #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #eddie munson x reader #bestfriend!eddie munson #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington angst #stranger things imagine #stranger things series

149 notes · View notes

spideybatsy · 3 months

Text

Late Night

Summary: GN!Reader gets a cleaning job working at Wayne Enterprises when a certain billionaire playboy develops an obsession with them. Pairing: Bruce Wayne x GN!Reader WC: 3K Warnings: being watched without knowing, mentions of erections, nothing too serious. Notes: Can be read as any batsy you’d like, I personally picture Bale bc I’m a slut for him <3 This is the first chapter in my new series! I haven't written in a year, so be kind Masterlist

The wind pressed against your sweat slick skin as you stepped into the shadow of Wayne Tower. A shiver rolled down your spine, half caused by the weather and half by the ravenous butterflies in your stomach. Starting a new job is never easy but God, you have never needed a job as much as you need this one.

The renewal of your lease brought a steep increase in rent at the same time as your boss announced he was closing the business. You couldn’t really say you were surprised, the bakery was definitely a front for something nefarious, why else would the GCPD come in every other week?

It was a shame, really. You loved working at the bakery, especially during those quiet moments when you could just sit there and watch the world go by. God knows you’ll be rushed off your feet now.

Cleaning wasn’t your first choice, nor was it your second. Hell, it wasn’t even on the list. But you were not in the position to be anything but grateful when your friend mentioned an opening at their work. The hours weren’t the best but the pay was surprisingly good.

You walked into the building and were immediately shoved by someone sprinting to the lift. Taking a deep breath, you regained your bearings, straightened your shirt, and headed for security. You’d been in the building only once, for your interview, but figured you’d need some sort of pass to get into the actual offices.

The security man who served you was disarmingly attractive and you couldn’t help but blush as he ran his eyes down your figure. His hair was a dirty blonde, pushed back and behind his ears.

“First day?”

“That obvious?”

He chuckled, before asking for your name and looking you up on the system. “I’ll just call your supervisor, Emily, to come down.”

“Thank you.” The two of you fell into an almost awkward silence. “How, uh, long until your shift finishes?”

“I’m on a morning today, so I finish at 12. How about you?”

“Well, I’ll usually be doing the 4 till 10 shift but they wanted me in earlier today. So, I'll finish around 3.”

“Too bad.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, I would’ve loved to take you out for dinner.” Were your cheeks on fire or was it suddenly just really hot in here? “Maybe it’ll have to be lunch instead.”

You opened your mouth to respond but was interrupted by Emily calling your name.

“There you are, I’ve been waiting for you!”

You flashed a sorry smile at him and rushed over to your friend's side.

“Hey, what’s that guard's name?” Although you knew he couldn’t hear you from here, you still whispered.

You cringed as Emily started to turn back, quickly reaching out and stopping her.

“I think that’s Russell.” She whispered back, “Why?”

“He asked me out on a date.”

“Really?” Well, no more whispering. You simply nodded your head, following her into the lift. “You don’t even have your access pass and you’ve got the men drooling. You dirty stop out.”

“I haven’t slept with him!”

“Yet.”

“I’ll be telling HR you called me a slut.”

“Hoping they’ll sleep with you too?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, pushing her slightly with your shoulder. As the numbers on the lift drew higher, the two of you settled down. Joking with your friend was one thing but you needed people here to take you seriously, even if you were just the cleaner.

“Are the people here nice?” You weren’t expecting your voice to sound so… small.

Emily looked over at you, affectionately bumping your shoulder. “Yeah, most of them are lovely.”

“What about the others?”

“Fuckable.”

The lift doors opened and filled the floor with the sound of your combined laughter.

—-

“And down here, you have Mister Wayne’s office.” You followed Emily down the hallway, looking into an office and making eye contact with an older man. You gave him a quick smile and was pleased when he returned it.

“That’s Lucius Fox, he’s really the boss.”

“What about Bruce Wayne?”

“What about him?” Emily stopped at the front of the last door.

“Well, it’s Wayne Enterprises, isn’t it?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

You couldn’t help but gasp as she threw the door open, jumping to apologise to the aforementioned man.

Only, he wasn’t there.

Emily laughed, walking further into the room. “He’s hardly here, probably recovering from his drunken nights spent with supermodels.”

You hesitantly followed her in, amazed by the so-called office. This one room was probably bigger than your whole apartment. It definitely had better views.

“I’m not sure you should be talking about our boss like that,” you mumbled, walking over to the floor to ceiling windows.

Emily came to stand next to you, “it’s not like he’s ever here to hear it.”

“Don’t be so sure.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you jolted around, instantly fearing the worst. Was it possible you could be fired before you even got your first paycheck? How were you going to pay rent now?

You couldn’t tell if you should be relieved or not when you realised it was the man you’d smiled at earlier. Lucius Fox.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Emily replied, turning back to the view.

Oh my God. What was she doing? “Please excuse my friend, Mr Fox. I think she meant-”

“I know what she meant,” he responded while walking over.

You opted to say nothing and pretended to look out the window, wishing for the tension to dissipate as quickly as possible.

“You’re scaring them to death, Fox.”

The older man laughed, coming to rest his hand on your shoulder. “Worry not, dear. You’ll grow used to the banter.”

The tension started melting from your shoulders, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

—

Within two weeks, you’d fallen into a comfortable routine. You came into work at 3:45 to make yourself a tea and read your book, before starting work at 4. You start at the side furthest from Wayne’s office, as they left the earliest. By the time you reached the common areas, the rest of the staff would be leaving, only Fox remaining. He was always the last one to leave, usually close to 7. You couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, since you knew he was typically the first person in the office too. So, you’d bring him a decaffeinated coffee around 5pm. You’d find yourself talking to him for a while, usually about stories from the past that you could both laugh about.

Truth be told, you were starting to really enjoy the man's company. He had a dry sense of humour that you found hilarious. Being in the office late could be rather lonely, so you clung onto the moments you had with him.

A positive of working alone in the office was that you could play all your music out loud. You’d recently gotten into a podcast where three friends read stories and discussed them. A lot of them were light hearted or ‘am i the asshole’ reddit posts.

Tonight, you listened to their supernatural episode as you finished up in Fox’s office when you heard a bang down the hallway. Slowly, you creeped to the door to peep down the corridor but there was no one there.

Maybe the ghost stories were getting to you. You shook your head and turned back into the office when you heard the noise again. Jumping, you looked toward the sound. The only thing down there was Mr Wayne’s office.

Clutching your mop between closed fists, you edged down the hallway. Taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open and rushed in, hoping to catch the perpetrator in action.

Only the office was empty, of course it was. You couldn’t help the relief that coursed through your veins. It was obviously going to be empty, you had yet to see The Bruce Wayne in this room. You were starting to wonder if it had even been used. Maybe Fox should get this office, that way someone can appreciate the view.

You laughed quietly to yourself before turning off the podcast and putting on some tunes. That was more than enough scares for you tonight.

Unbeknownst to you, you were not alone. A certain billionaire had stumbled in here before his night duty, expecting to find the place empty as usual. He hadn’t been in for a few weeks now but things rarely changed this high in the building.

Then you’d burst into the room, armed with a mop and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. You were the single most beautiful person he’d ever seen. Who were you and what were you doing here?

He couldn’t help the way his dick twitched in his trousers. No. Now is not the time.

He stayed in the shadows and watched you work, diligently going from one room to another before stopping in the kitchen to make a drink. You pulled a book out of your bag and read for a while. Bruce found himself creeping closer, eager to see what you were reading.

Then you looked up and it seemed like you were staring straight at him. He knew you couldn’t see him but he couldn’t stop the way his heart stuttered in his chest. Nor the way his lower half jolted.

What was it about you that made his infamous control slip? He’d never had this issue, not even as a teenager.

Your eyes widened as you kept gazing in his direction and he slowly turned his head. The bat symbol drifted amongst the clouds.

He held back a sigh as he shifted further into the darkness.

Maybe he was due a visit back into the office, after all.

—

Or maybe not.

It had been a week since Bruce first saw you in his office, clutching a mop like your life depended on it. Sometimes, when he lay awake in his bed, he thought about how oblivious you were to his presence that night. And every night since.

He should really get you some self defence classes, perhaps send them as a gift from Wayne Enterprises. He hated thinking about what could’ve happened if he really was a burglar. He could only keep you so safe, you needed to be able to handle yourself.

Then he felt a bit crazy. Here he was, talking about you like you were… part of his life. Although, he supposed at this point you were part of his life. He just wasn’t part of yours. Too many times he’d driven to the building just to never get out of his car.

He’d asked Fox about you at his last equipment meeting. He tried to act nonchalant about it, casually asking if there were any new staff on the top floor.

“We have a new cleaner.” Fox said, relaying your name. “They’ve been here for about three weeks. Settling in very well.”

Bruce repeated your name, strangely satisfied by the way it rolled off his tongue.

“May I inquire why you’ve asked about them?” Fox’s words caught Bruce off guard. “You’ve never been interested in the Wayne staff before.”

“Just keeping up to date with the comings and goings of my fathers legacy.” Bruce suddenly found the kevlar padding very interesting.

“Better late than never, I suppose.” Fox hummed, running his fingers across the fabric. “This kevlar is half the weight of your current gear.”

“Is it still as durable?”

You didn’t come up in the conversation again but Fox filed the information away, eager to ask Alfred about it.

—

“What does your partner think about you working so late?”

Fox’s question caught you completely off guard, causing you to almost spurt out your tea. He immediately grabbed the tissues off his desk, handing them to you.

“Forgive me, it was an inappropriate question.”

“No, no, no. It’s fine.” You said, finally swallowing down your mouthful. “I, uh, don’t have a partner. So, I don’t think they mind.”

“I suppose that makes two of us.”

Before you could respond, he tactfully changed the conversation.

—

“They’re single, you know.”

Bruce furrowed his eyebrows but didn’t look away from his newspaper. “Whose single, Alfred?”

His heart almost broke free from his chest when Alfred said your name.

“How would you know that?” Bruce’s words were more rushed than he would’ve liked, the newspaper long forgotten on the table.

“Every old man has his secrets.”

“You spoke to Fox,” Bruce sighed. “They probably thought he was coming onto them.”

“Worried you have competition, Master Wayne?”

Bruce couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You know, I may not be the master of romance but I hear that the first step in any relationship is to talk to each other.”

“Obviously,” Bruce muttered, picking his newspaper back up.

“What you’re doing right now has a name, Master Wayne.”

“And what is that?”

“Stalking.”

Bruce couldn’t help but flinch at the word. He turned to defend himself but Alfred was already gone, leaving him a pot of tea.

—

You were sitting in the kitchen, tea in one hand and your book in the other. You’d found yourself in the office a bit earlier than usual but didn’t mind. It was always good to have some time to wind down before you started your shift.

“What are you reading?”

You couldn’t help but inwardly sigh, putting your bookmark in. “Just a-” Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up. If Russell was attractive, this man was downright gorgeous. A face carved for a god with luscious hair combed behind his ear.

He looked eerily familiar but you couldn’t quite place him. You could feel your cheeks heat up as you bought your gaze back down to the book.

“I’ve never heard of The Dry Heart before,” Bruce’s heart leapt from his chest as he took the seat across from you. “What’s it about?”

You sneaked a glance up at him but immediately looked back down when you made eye contact. “It’s about an unhappy marriage, I’m reading it for a book club.”

He hummed, his eyes searching your face. You were even more breath-catching up close. “You must be our new cleaner,” you liked the way he said your name far too much. “I’ve been meaning to catch up with you.”

“You have?” Who was this man? You would remember seeing such a gorgeous face among the office.

“I try to meet all the new employees but I’ve been a bit slack lately, please forgive me.”

You slowly lifted your eyes to look at him and couldn’t help the way your lips lifted.

“Consider it forgotten,” you said softly.

He opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Fox.

“Mr Wayne, how lovely to see you again.” Lucius came in and stood beside you. “I see you’ve met our latest employee.”

Your eyes shoot, Mr Wayne? Surely not. In your rushed state, you completely missed the way Fox smirked at Bruce, causing the younger man to stare daggers back at him.

“Of course, it’s important to know everyone in the office.”

Fox hummed, turning back to you. “Please excuse us, I have a very important meeting to drag Mr Wayne into.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” You had a hard time even saying the words, your mind whirling. Wasn’t Bruce Wayne an arrogant asshole? This man was the furthest from that. He was so kind and funny. And good looking. Holy shit was he good looking.

No, you’re not doing that. Not to your boss. Especially not when your boss is a world famous womaniser.

You can’t help the way your eyes follow him as he walks out or the way they trail down to his perfect ass. Entering the hallway, Fox rolls his eyes when he sees the massive smirk on Bruce’s face.

—

“I was hoping I’d find you here.”

You can’t help but jump as Bruce walks into the kitchen. “Mr. Wayne, I didn’t expect to see you so soon.”

“Please,” he sits down at the table and smiles at you. “Call me Bruce.”

“Okay, Bruce.”

Bruce savours the way his name rolls off your tongue and how your cheeks go bright red under his gaze. His eyes follow as your blush spreads down your neck and under your neckline.

“I usually take the new employees out for lunch, your turn is well overdue.” He takes a moment before continuing. “I guess ours would be more like dinner.”

“I suppose so,” you smile at him, oblivious to his wandering gaze. “But you don’t have to do that, Bruce. It’s fine, honestly.”

“I insist. How about tonight?”

You brought a lousy microwave dinner for tonight but there’s no reason why it can’t wait for tomorrow. Plus, who doesn’t like a free dinner? Lost in thought, Bruce takes the opportunity to study the way you bite your lip and store it away for later.

“Sure, tonight is good.”

—

You weren’t sure what to expect during dinner but it wasn’t this. Bent over, your hand clutching your side in an attempt to ease your stitch as you laugh hysterically. Bruce is laughing too, his smile so big it shows his perfectly pearly whites.

“No way, you’re lying.” You gasp between breaths.

“I wish,” Bruce looks away in faux-shame. “I wasn’t always the smoothest.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Your laugh settles into a smile.

“Why’s that?” He sounds genuine when he asks, curious even.

“Well, look at you.” You immediately heat at the implication, quickly stuttering off an excuse. This is not a date. “Y-You’re The Bruce Wayne. It would’ve been a-all over the newspapers if you, uh, messed up.”

Bruce merely hums, his eyes dropping down to your lips as you bite away at them again.

This is bad. You cannot be flirting with the boss, especially not your boss's boss. Sure, he might be into it now but he’s not known to stick around with the same person for long. You can not afford to lose this job if things go bad.

You’re saved by the server coming back to drop off the check. Bruce’s hand grasps yours as you go to take the check, sending a bolt of electricity down your arm. His eyes find your own, a small smile gracing his lips.

“I’ve got you.”

Fuck.

274 notes · View notes

holy-puckslibrary · 10 months

Text

━ 𝐅*𝐂𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑.

-ˏˋ. 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ˊˎ-

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 — FWB!matthew tkachuk x f!reader 𝐰𝐜 — 1.7k 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 — "old habits die hard..." — or, your boyfriend won’t fuck you right, so you run to the one person who always does.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — patrons know the chokehold this toxic sin-fest has on me and probably always will... in all seriousness, this is one of my favorite things i've ever published and i am so insanely proud of it. i hope you love it as much as i do <3

(spoiler — not possible teehee)

18+ MDNI — content warnings under the cut.

𝐜𝐰 — profanity, innuendo, matthew’s filthy mouth and lack of morals, cheating (not on matty or the reader), outdated/incorrect information about having sex for the first time, borderline too much degradation, some objectification to add a little spice, unprotected sex w a cheeky creampie (what did you expect from two morally bankrupt individuals written by me, a retired whore?), matthew being a noncommittal, possessive piece of shit joking about knocking people up for funzies

────────────

“D’you think you’re so addicted to my cock because you know I don’t give a fuck what you think about me? Or care if you think I’m a Nice Guy?”

Even buried to the hilt—bare with nothing between you and far too fucking close for comfort—Matthew Tkachuk runs his mouth like he’s got nothing to lose and even less to prove. He’s insufferable, his only redeeming quality being the pulsing appendage threatening to split you in half as you buck in his lap.

With your hands braced against his hard chest for leverage, you drown out his grating voice, chasing the white-hot surges, bolts of lightning leading you to the brink of collapse with renewed vigor.

The sooner you come, the sooner he’s gone.

“All I care about, sweetheart, is fucking you good and hard. Giving it to you like the hungry, cockdrunk whore that you are.”

Debonair attitude. Sly confidence. Vulgar demeanor.

Filthy fucking mouth.

You were warned about Matthew Tkachuck. Repeatedly. Warned about him and his complete lack of a filter, about his total disregard for anyone’s feelings but his own. His aversion to commitment, to monogamy, to propriety.

All the things that repulse you about the man lounging on expensive hotel sheets beneath you—as you do all the work—lure you back to him in equal measure. He shouldn’t turn you on, but that’s exactly why he does. He’s all wrong, wrong, wrong.

Which makes him just right.

“I bet if your fiancé walked in right now, you’d just keep riding me. You wouldn’t even notice, would you? After all, you haven’t cum yet. And that’s all you care about, right? Using my cock to get your rocks off because Billy Boyfriend’s too scared to give you what you really need. Lucky for you, I’m not a fuckin’ pussy. I don’t treat you like a fragile doll because I know you’ll take anything I give you—and beg for more. I treat you like what you are, not some chaste little princess.”

You’ve been with Bill for nearly a decade, engaged for more than a year. It’ll be a spring wedding, probably. If the venue pans out, and the caterer finally calls you back with a final quote.

Perfect on paper.

He doesn’t pay attention to you the way he used to. Just throws money at the problem until he can bury himself in work again, undisturbed by you or nagging obligation.

Flowers for being three hours late, a necklace for missing dinner entirely. A trip overseas when he had to go into the office on your anniversary.

But he’s nice, so fucking nice it hurts, and more loyal than the Golden Retriever he wants to adopt after the honeymoon. After you’re settled into a custom-build nestled comfortably in the suburbs and far away from the city. White picket fence, manicured lawn, barely-there speed limits.

It's all so nauseatingly idyllic. So perfectly attuned with what you thought you wanted, what you spent your childhood coveting.

All your single friends are jealous; your committed friends are resentful. Your family loves him, and even though you’ve got a fucked up way of showing it, so do you.

And he loves you too. He’s just busy. It’ll be different once we’re settled, he says. You try to believe him, though not as hard as you should. You tell yourself it's because he doesn’t either.

Bill’s gotten lazy. You’ve gotten bored.

You’re no angel, and never claimed to be. You just want to feel good.

Matthew barks out a dry laugh, almost like he can read your mind.

“You haven’t been since I first got you on your knees at his birthday party. And definitely not after I popped that sweet cherry you were so adamant about saving for him."

Bill doesn’t fuck you. He never has.

He makes love to you. It’s that romance-novel tenderness that got you here in the first place. Slow, sweet, and nearly devoid of passion. It’s so gentle you have to think of him just to come.

How he fucks you.

How tightly he yanks your hair, craning your neck until it aches. How hard he kneads and smacks your ass, bullying the skin until you sob. How deep his cock reaches. And how he takes, takes, takes without forethought. How could you accept a lifetime of only tame rutting in the face of Pavlovian depravity?

It’s awful, and it's so profoundly selfish, but his everything has you in a bind.

Matthew’s everything is ruining your life.

An uncharacteristic wave of guilt and sadness washes over you, and before you can catch yourself, you’re staring down at the engagement ring. The band constricts, digging into your finger like it's out for blood when you glimpse the indentation it left behind on Matthew’s peck. You wince, then choke down the shame lodged in your throat, screwing your eyes shut to will it away.

“If it's bothering you that much, take it off. I’ll keep it safe for you.” —wink— “I can’t imagine the weight of a rock like that, especially one you don’t even deserve. But, if you actually felt as guilty as you claim to, you wouldn’t be this wet on another man’s cock. Don’t play saint now. You’ll ruin the fun.”

You can’t do this right now; you can’t have this worn-out fight. So, you say what you always say even though you’ve long since stopped trying to mean it.

“You keep saying that, sweetheart. We should stop. This is the last time. But no matter what you say, you always come crawling back to me sooner or later because I have what you need. Because I’m not him. Because I fuck you better.”

His words light you on fire. You hate it, but how deeply your body enjoys them is undeniable. How tightly you squeeze and flutter with every degrading line, choking his cock as you use him to satisfy your own perverted needs. How his brutal honesty, his refusal to let you forget your zealous participation in the affair for even a second, arches your back and hardens your nipples.

Even without all that evidence stacked against you, the blitzed-out look on your face says it all. One look at you and everyone would know just how right Matthew is.

“Shut the fuck up,” you growl.

You say it for the sake of saying it. To know, when you curl into Bill's side tonight, that you said something to deny his assessment of you.

But the last thing you want is for him to shut his mouth.

Not right now, not when you’re right there—

“You can’t hide from me, sweetheart, and you can’t lie to me. You can’t fool me, either. I see right fucking through you. It terrifies you—and you love it.”

His raspy voice swims freely through your hollowed-out mind. It unwittingly thumbs through every unforgivable memory, like some sort of pornographic Rolodex.

Matthew’s hips grinding against yours in darkened corners and dive-bar bathroom stalls and poker tables.

His hands fighting against hard-earned sweat in the foggy backseat of his car, battling to find purchase anywhere he can so he can keep rutting with reckless abandon before you’re expected home.

His fingertips burrowing into the sides of your throat, hard enough to bruise, hard enough to silence, hard enough to hurt.

Him spilling inside of you, ropes painting the sacred place white with no remorse or expectation of responsibility.

Matty’s hand over your mouth, urging you to be fucking quiet as he pistons in and out, in and out, keeping you pinned against the bathroom door, against the only thing standing between Bill and the worst discovery of his apple-pie life—

Old habits die hard.

Especially when it’s one that always feels that fucking good. No matter how lecherous or immoral.

Or how badly the betrayal would hurt someone underserving and innocent.

“Even if you walk down that aisle and take his last name, you’ll still belong to me. Wedding or not, this pathetic, weeping cunt belongs to me. But it’s all gonna be okay, though. Don’t you worry that pretty, empty head. I don’t mind sharing my toys. Especially with someone who could never compete.”

You can't compete where you don't compare.

He doesn’t want to be your boyfriend. He doesn’t want to be anyone’s boyfriend. He isn’t the Relationship Type. He doesn’t even want to be exclusive. That’s part of his appeal, no matter how fervently you deny it. He doesn’t want more than pleasure—primal, deviant pleasure—and that’s all you're looking for.

That's all you need.

“Where do you want my load, dirty girl?”

“Inside. I-Inside me, please, Matty.”

“Right answer.”

The burst of warmth is like getting a perfect grade you didn’t earn. Or feeling the cash your sibling gave you in exchange for not ratting them out sitting in your back pocket. It's hard to feel bad about the wrong you’ve done when the payoff is so deliciously worthwhile.

Matthew twitches, still hugged by your sensitive walls, and you shudder.

This is the high you chase every time you bend your morals until they splinter. The still nothingness that lays beyond the denouement, where everything is glowy and the pit inside you appears not-so-bottomless for once. The lack of expectations and obligations. The sheer freedom that stringless pleasure, that sensual self-indulgence provides.

Matthew doesn’t owe you anything, you don’t owe him anything either, and neither of you pretends otherwise.

And you sure as fuck don’t trip on his dirty laundry every time you walk into the bedroom.

“If that doesn’t take,” Matthew flicks his hips in emphasis, “…let me know when and where you want your wedding present, sweetheart.”

You don’t answer. You push his hands away and roll off of him unceremoniously. But he keeps talking.

Matthew is always talking.

“Oh, and before I forget, would you be a dear and let Billy know I won’t be able to make it for his bachelor party? I don’t know why, but I have the oddest feeling that something desperately needing my attention will come up.”

────────────

All of the stories and fantasies written or discussed on this blog by the owner or by followers are purely fictional and are not intended to offend any parties.

©2023 holy-pucks, all rights reserved. I do not give consent for any of my work to be copied, re-posted or translated here, on Tumblr, or on any other platform. Reproduction of any content from this blog is considered plagiarism.

asks, reblogs and comments very welcome and greatly appreciated!!

⤑ to my inbox 💌

⬸ back to the catalog

⬸ back to the main blog

patrons gained access to this piece on may 26, 2023 as part of their early bird perks. learn more HERE!

#*ೃ༄ by holy-pucks #matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk x f!reader #matty tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk x you #ratty matty #m. tkachuk #nhl hockey #nhl fic #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl lemon #hockey fic #hockey fanfiction #hockeyblr #nhlblr #hockey boys #reader insert

497 notes · View notes

janeyseymour · 7 months

Text

Personal and Professional- pt 3

Part 1. Part 2.

An anon asked for this! There's a backyard barbecue being held, and you're a bit hesitant because no one has seen you as the alternative woman that you are outside of school. They also don't know about you and Melissa.

WC: ~2.3k

Janine is organizing a backyard barbecue at Barbara’s house for the Abbott crew- and you are less than thrilled to be excited. It’s not that you don’t like your work crew, because that isn’t true; you’re dating one of them. It’s that you really would rather not have everyone commenting on your body and your… tasteful markings.

“C’mon, hun,” Melissa says softly as she lays with you that night. “I think it’ll be fun to let our hair down.”

“I really would rather not,” you sigh. “No one knows about my tattoos, and no one knows about us.”

“The tattoos aren’t a big deal- I think they’ll like to see that you aren’t as buttoned up as you like to play. And they don’t have to find out about us,” she smirks. “I can keep my eyes and my hands to myself when I want to- just like I do at school.”

“You came into my room today and ate me out during prep because you were too horny to focus on grading your kids’ last assignments,” you tell her.

“It takes two to tango,” she shrugs. “It was good though, wasn’t it?”

You push her off of you. “Shut up.”

“All I’m saying is, I can control myself if that’s what you’re worried about for this barbecue,” your girlfriend tells you.

So begrudgingly, you find yourself at this barbecue for the fourth of July. The redhead and you drive separately so as not to give anything away, and you arrive there far too quickly. When you pull up to the kindergarten teacher’s house, you’re impressed. You can smell the food cooking, you hear the music playing from the backyard, and you can hear your boisterous girlfriend already laughing it up with her work wife. You head into the fenced area after taking a deep breath.

“About damn time!” Melissa teases you as she winks from the pool. “I was starting to think you weren’t gonna show!”

She’s saying this to you playfully, but she really was worried you weren’t going to pull up to the party, especially since you’re arriving an hour later than her.

“I’m here, I’m here,” you chuckle nervously as you wrap your thin cardigan around your body subconsciously.

“Well what are you waiting for?” the redhead heckles you. “Grab a drink, and come on in!”

You know she absolutely loves to see you in your bathing suit, and she’s going to drool when she sees the tattoos that dance around your hips and ribcage. She won’t be able to contain herself.

“I’m actually good right now,” you chuckle. “But I’ll grab a drink. Mel, you want anything?”

“Just another beer,” she tells you.

Everyone else looks at you like you’re crazy for only asking the redhead. “Uh… anyone else?”

And that’s how you essentially become beer girl for the day. Finally, Barb has had enough.

“For the love of all things holy, Y/N,” she throws her arms in the air. “Let loose a little and show some skin! You have to dying in all those clothes!”

“I’m really okay,” you say softly as you wipe a bit of sweat from your brow.

“Sweetheart, if this is about body insecurities,” the kindergarten teacher tells you, although her words are a bit slurred at this point. “No one is going to care what you look like in a swimsuit.”

“I bet yo’ tasty ass looks a lot better in a bikini than it does in all your buttoned up outfits that match Barbara’s energy,” Ava comments.

“I’m not always buttoned up,” you roll your eyes. “I just like to maintain some sense of professionalism when I’m with coworkers.”

“You think we give a shit about professionalism?” your boss smirks. “I go out clubbin’ every weekend and see half the Abbott parents out too. Janine and Greg were out at a hookah bar and were grinding up on each other. I’ve seen Barb and Melissa get absolutely hammered at PECSA!”

“And I am known to have a few too many aperol spritzes from time to time!” Jacob cuts in.

“Come on, baby boo, show us what youse made of!” Ava goads you.

You take a deep breath before opening your eyes again. “You really wanna see what I look like outside of school?”

Melissa’s eyes widen and her brows creep up her face. You don’t shed any clothing, not yet- but you do open your bag and pull out your different jewelry. You expertly take out the clear stud in your nose to exchange it for a hoop. Your earrings are all put in. Even though it’s just a small change, you look like an entirely different person to them- all except Melissa, who loves seeing you like this. She licks her lips subconsciously.

“Damn!” Ava grins. “We got ourselves a hot little alt girl!”

You roll your eyes at that comment. “Give me a few minutes to go change, and I’ll come in the pool.”

The hostess gives you directions as to where the bathroom is, and you thank her before heading inside to change. You do before throwing your big ripped up band t-shirt overtop of your figure. If you’re going to stun them all, you might as well go all out. You tie your hair up into one of your messier buns before making sure that your ‘slut strands’ (because that’s apparently what the baby hairs that don’t make it into the bun are called) look as though they’re supposed to be there before heading back outside.

Your secret girlfriend’s eyes go wide as you make your way into the fenced in area. You swear you see the smallest droplet of drool escape her mouth as her eyes stay trained on you.

“Happy?” you ask your work friends.

“We’d be happier if you took off the hot t-shirt,” the principal smirks as she sips her seltzer.

With a roll of your eyes, you peel off the shirt, revealing all of the tattoos that you have.

“You have tattoos?” Janine is mesmerized.

You shrug as you slowly start to make your way into the pool. “Young Y/N mistakes.”

“They look amazing though! I’ve always wanted a tattoo, but I’m too scared that it’ll hurt or get infected or that I’ll-”

“You just have to find something that means something to you and brace yourself. And then it’s just simple aftercare. Not too bad at all.”

“Are we really gonna ignore the fact that our good little teacher is secretly an alternative hottie with a body?” Ava gestures to you wildly. “Like, damn girl. I knew you were fit, but I didn’t know you was gonna look like-”

“Enough,” you cut her off as you grab a float and situate yourself on it. You push yourself so that you’re close to Melissa, and she hangs off of your raft. “I don’t need my boss objectifying me.”

But she doesn’t get the hint- she never really does. And you can see the way that your girlfriend is getting more and more aggravated. Silently, you nudge her with your foot and shoot her a look, telling her to cool it.

You spend the afternoon in the pool before it’s time to start cooking some more food. Gerald comes out to take everyone’s orders, but you absolutely insist on helping to cook with him. It only seems right since they’re hosting, and you quite like to barbecue.

So you climb out of the pool. You can practically feel Ava’s eyes on you as your sun kissed skin glows. You wrap your towel around your body, and she’s immediately booing.

“Show that body, girl!” she tells you.

“I’m going to be grilling,” you roll your eyes. “I ain’t trying to barbecue myself.”

When you’ve deemed that you’re dry enough thanks to the sun still out and your closeness to the grill, you unwrap yourself from the towel. Ava cheers. Why is she always around? Her applause quickly dies though when you reach for your t-shirt and pull it over your head.

You continue to help Barbara’s husband, making small talk with him, when he asks you something that entirely throws you for a loop.

“So, you and Melissa?”

You look at him as though he has four heads. “What about it?”

“The two of you together or what?”

“What are you talking about?” you feign shock.

“I see the way she stares at you,” he shrugs. “And not the way that Ava is… there’s something there, even if you don’t know it yet.”

“I think you’re crazy,” you lie through your teeth.

“Barb thinks there’s something there too,” he tuts. “And that was before you revealed yourself to be little miss alt girl. Funnily enough, that’s exactly Melissa’s type.”

You roll your eyes. “We’re coworkers.”

“That ain’t stopping your boss from flirting with you,” he chuckles. “All I’m sayin is-”

“Is the food almost ready yet?” Melissa calls from her place in the pool. “And will you grab me another beer, hun?”

You don’t make a move, and Gerald laughs. “She ain’t callin’ me ‘hun’. That one’s all you.”

“Almost,” you call back. “And you just want another Yuengling?”

“Please!”

You grab the beverage, opening it up for her before making your way back towards the pool. She’s in the middle though, so you peel your shirt off again and make your way in to deliver it her.

“Body-ody-ody-ody-” the principal starts dancing, making quite a few splashes in the water.

“Ava!” Barbara tuts.

You roll your eyes as you climb back out of the pool and make your way back over to the grill, not wanting to hear how your boss will respond to being scolded.

Dinner is wonderful, it’s cleaned up, and then you find yourself back in the pool as the sun starts to go down and the moon starts to rise. Gerald comes out to light up the tikis that they have around the outside, and he waves.

“Alrighty, I’m heading in for the night, but it was wonderful to see you all again.”

“Thank you, dear,” Barbara blows him a kiss.

That leaves you and the rest of the Abbott crew to spend some time in the moonlight together. Somehow, the conversation leads to you and the less professional side that you’ve now shown them.

“So, when did you get your first tattoo?” Janine asks you.

“Three days after I turned eighteen,” you laugh as you float alongside your girlfriend. “Got my nose pierced the first weekend I went to college. My mom was so pissed.”

“Why?” Barbara of all people asks. “It’s an expression.”

“She hates them,” you roll your eyes. “Told me if I got tattoos and a nose ring, she’d kick me out of the house… she never did.”

Melissa chuckles. “Sounds like-”

“Sounds like what, Melissa?” Barb cuts her off with a raised eyebrow.

“Sounds like our generation,” your girlfriend states quickly. She’s thankful it’s dim, or everyone would’ve seen the panicked look on her face.

“Who carees?” Ava asks. “It’s fuckin’ hot. If I had known that you were hiding all of that under your stuffy attire, damn… I would’ve been hitting on you way more.”

“Which is why I wear what I wear at school,” you deadpan.

“I mean, really… my boyfriend and I would love to-”

“Enough,” your girlfriend practically hisses.

The entire crew looks to the redhead. “What’s got your panties in such a twist?”

“Just shut up. Stop talking about her like that,” Melissa tells your group. “Or else.”

“Or else what, Melissa?” Ava presses.

“Or else you’re gonna have to deal with Y/N’s girlfriend,” the redhead snaps. “Who just so happens to be me.”

You press your lips together in a fine line as you look anywhere but where your friends are floating around the pool.

They all immediately start questioning both you and the second grade teacher.

“What do you mean she’s your girlfriend?” a chorus of voices ask.

Only Barbara smirks. “I knew it.”

Melissa looks to you as she pulls you and your float in tight. “That’s right. Y/N is my girl, and y’all better stop ogling her before I throw youse in with the wolves at the zoo.”

“Mel,” you roll your eyes at her threat.

“I’m serious!” she hisses as she points a finger at Ava. “I know a guy who can make it happen, and I won’t hesitate to use him if you don’t stop drooling over my girl!”

“Since when has this been a thing?” Jacob asks. “If I had known you swung that way, Mel Mel… we would’ve been at Woody’s this whole time!”

“And that is why no one knew,” she rolls her eyes. “I’m past my days at Woody’s.”

“Well what about you, Y/N?” the middle school teacher asks. “You and me? Woody’s?”

“In your dreams, Hill,” you tease. “Maybe a more low key gay bar though.”

“So, when did this come about?” Barbara asks, quite interested. “I’ve been telling Melissa to go after you since you sauntered your way in- and that was before I knew you were a little alt girl- exactly her type.”

“Caught her at the grocery store one day,” Melissa shrugs. “We went out the next Monday… been together since.”

“It’s been, what? Four months?”

“Four months, two weeks, six days,” the redhead says casually. “And enjoying every moment of it.”

“Good on you,” Barbara cheers as she holds her drink in the air.

“So stop all your flirting with my girl, or there will be hell to pay, and I’ll make it look like it was an accident,” Melissa pointedly tells the group.

Ava puts her hands in the air in surrender before pursing her lips together. “What if both of you-”

“Ava!”

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfic #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

253 notes · View notes

behoright · 1 year

Text

console me l m. barzal

how it feels to rest / on your patient lips

summary: as angry as mat is after the season loss, he cannot hide it from you. mostly plotless smut

wordcount: 4.6k

warnings: minors DNI! 18+ only. smut, sexual situations that include rough sex, degrading language and behaviors, pain/pleasure dynamics, pet names, consent break/check, bodily fluids. mentions of size difference and love lol.

a/n: for all my sad, islanders girlies. masterlist is fixed! muah.

read me please: i cannot say this any more clearly: this is not for everyone. read at your discretion. the warnings are stated as clearly as i can my loves. my inbox is always open to have any discussion about writing, relationships, sex, bdsm and kink. if this makes you uncomfortable or simply is not your cup of tea, move on my dear. love u guys always.

⊹　　　🎧　　　 ⁾⁾　

It really took only a day to figure out.

As much as he tried to hide it, leave it at the rink.

Anger.

Mat had never been so pissed before.

For once, he knew that he had given it his all.

He had sacrificed, time and time again.

Played through sickness, injuries, birthdays, and special events.

Harder than ever before.

Despite knowing that everything passes, he couldn’t shake the thought, or perhaps the fact, that there had been other factors that cost the team the cup.

Things out of his control.

And it drove him to the edge every night.

Having to see his teammates get more disappointed with every passing second on the ice.

Knowing that their dream was slipping away from them, no matter how much he had clawed and fought to hold on.

He spent extra time at the gym, on the ice, hours after the last painful loss, just to attempt to get rid of the anger.

But it wasn’t working.

Instead, it just fueled the apparent neverending and burning cycle.

The last thing he wanted to do was bring his negativity home.

Back to you.

To the safe haven you had both built so meticulously.

The only person that stood by his side, in every sense of the word, didn’t deserve to take the brunt.

However, you could see the cracks.

He was very good at veiling it, but not good enough for you.

The past couple days had brought you a huge sense of gratitude, knowing you were in a relationship that stripped your souls and bodies.

Fully being yourselves at all times.

So, as you packed to begin your various summer travels, you knew you had no other choice.

Something was pounding, deep from inside you, to open this door for you two.

You stood in your shared room, watching Mat’s muscular back crouched down in the walk in closet as he messily threw his shirts in his luggage.

“Mat?” you called him, voice shaky.

“Hmm, babe?” he asked, still packing.

“How are you feeling?”

The question wasn’t anything new, a domestic ritual you two had to keep your connection based in truth wholly.

Since you had both promised to listen without any stories or distractions in exchange for the complete truth, every single time, it had become easier to share.

“Well, love…” he sighed, not daring to face you as his face stiffened, your question bringing up his most repressed feelings. “I’m angry. I’m fucking frustrated at how it all ended, you know?”

“You are?” you said, walking towards him, picking at the skin on your hands nervously.

“Yeah, baby. It’s okay, I mean, it’ll pass. But I’m angry.”

“Take it out on me.” you blurted out, strong in your stance and words, now only a couple of feet behind him. “Fuck me as hard as you can.”

Mat stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes widening as his mind emptied, only being able to stare at the half empty suitcase in front of him.

Whether he liked to admit it or not, he knew that you could see right through him.

There was no hiding from the woman he loved.

“I know that we’ve talked about this before but… are you sure you can handle it?” he questioned, turning around to look at you.

“I know I can, Mat.”

“Baby…”

The overhead warm light surrounded your head like a halo as he looked up at you.

He wondered, during a poetic moment, how his angel could be giving herself over to him like this.

“I’m asking for it.” you said, taking a step closer to him. “Can you handle it?”

For a moment he forgot that his sweet angel was no such thing behind closed doors. Ever since the first night, he saw that dark fire inside you, and it hadn’t gone out in years.

Mat was the perfect fan to your flames.

“Oh, so it’s like that huh?” Mat answered, his lips curling up into a smirk as he stood up to tower over you. “Will you tell me if you need me to stop?”

“Yes.” you gulped as you two stood just inches apart. “I remember my word.”

“You do, huh?” he asked as you saw his feet take one last step towards you, the fabric of his shirt ghosting over yours.

“I can take it.” you repeated, getting lost in his eyes as you looked up into his dark eyes.

“Yeah, we can take it, right, baby?” he uttered, his fingers wrapping around the sides of your neck as his eyes looked down upon you. “We fucking can.”

His lips finally met yours, Mat’s tongue swiping feverishly on your bottom lip before invading your mouth, drippingly meeting yours in a heated makeout session.

The belligerence of his kiss sent a moan reberverating inside his open mouth.

Mat loved to make out. He could do it for hours, until his cock began to twitch restlessly in his denim.

He opened his mouth fully, letting you invade each other messily.

Lately, he had taken it as far as to spit in your mouth. Not forcefully, but just letting a trail of spit drip from the tip of his tongue into your throat, the height difference coming to his advantage.

It felt so fucking primal to him that it always sent you flying against a wall everytime he’d see the look of passion and satisfaction in your eyes after you swallowed his saliva.

“Is this what you’ve been thinking about? All those times I was heated, venting at you?”

he asked, forcing you to take steps back into the bedroom, still holding you tightly, the tips of his fingers pushing against the ridges of your scalp.

“Yes.” you whispered into a kiss. The sensual murmur drove him to bite your bottom lip, pull it towards him as he stopped your motions.

“Oh, what is wrong with you, baby? That’s so fucking bad.” he said, watching the bite swell up exquisitely as you smiled, enticing him into more kisses.

More spit, boiling into each other and pushing each other unconsciously as you two ondulated in your heat. He began to shove himself intensely against you, getting more of those moans he loved so much.

“You can’t even be quiet when I kiss you.” he said, shaking his head slowly as his hand came to rest on the front of your neck. He flinched backwards when you attempted to kiss him again.

It was his bedroom now.

“Come here.” he barked, sitting down on the bed. “This will shut you up.”

He didn’t have to repeat himself before you kneeled in front of him, not even giving him a chance to undo his pants before your mouth salivated over him. He rested his long fingers on your shoulder, almost keeping you tamed as he pulled out his erection.

“Eager, eager girl.” he chuckled, watching you leap onto him.

You wished you could take him entirely the second your tongue met the salty precum that had dribbled down his shaft, but that had never been a possibility.

Unbeknownst to you, Mat fucking loved it.

He adored that you struggled to take him, that you wanted so hard to swallow him whole at a first try.

His head fell back, exposing his thick adam’s apple as it thumped in his throat, Mat trying to hide his gulps every time your lips wrapped around him lower and lower.

You knew just how to please him, swirling your tongue and hollowing your cheeks just at the right minute spots that still took his by surprise every single time.

Mat felt your desperation as you kept taking him down, so eager to please him. For a second, it enchanted him, filling him with gratitude that he had a partner that so badly wanted to destress him.

However, it was short-lived.

It was not what you wanted, or what he needed.

“Fuck.”

It felt good, his toes slowly beginning to curl as he felt strings of precum coat the back of your throat, but the more he channeled the feeling that he had pushed away for so long, the more restless he became.

Every time you gagged, your muscles would clench around him, shocking him with exhilarating stimulation.

“Sit up. Now.” he said, strictly, jumping out of his experience. You tentatively moved away from him, the only thing connecting you two now being a sloppy trail of saliva.

“Baby, I-, I-...” you said, uncertainly.

“You what? Hmm?” he asked, undressing as you stared at him dumbfounded.

Throughout the years, Mat had never sounded so stern in the bedroom as he did now.

“You asked for angry Mat, didn’t you?” he continued, tapping your head demeaningly in an effort to sit you up. “Beggars can’t be choosers, doll.”

The register in his voice was forceful and humiliating enough to send your desire running down the inside of your thighs, his muscular hands working on practically ripping your clothes off so harshly that he had thrown you off balance a couple of times.

Your heart began to race in anticipation as he silently threw the half-trashed garments through the room.

He was decisive, precise in his actions, and it made you slightly trepid.

Prolepsis and nerves mixing acidly in your stomach; you knew you had the choice to revoke consent anytime, but you were grounded enough to know that Mat was the safest man to do this with.

Apart from working up to it for months now, and seeing him slowly come out of his shell and let go further every time he got you to himself behind closed doors, you knew how much you wanted this.

Your body knew as well, your blood rushing rapidly to your cunt as he kept grazing against your skin, snapping the back of your bra before discarding it mindlessly. You could feel the flames of his subjugated feelings simmering again, coming to the surface the more he got out of his head and into his body, his breath becoming deeper and hotter against your skin, breathing out frustration with low, vibrational groans.

“Get on the bed.” he yapped as soon as you were fully naked, his hand pushing you a tad bit too potently onto your bed; so much so that you naturally rested your sweaty limbs on the blankets on all fours.

“Look how wet you are. You’re not embarrassed?” he spit out, running his finger up your slit sloppily as he set himself behind you. “I haven’t even touched you, Y/N.”

He was just a hair over the line, authoritative in his colloquy and pinpointing his acts precisely to get you where he wanted.

He didn’t care to run himself on your slit, not tonight, his cock still dripping with your thick spit. He thrusted entirely into you, his pounding head coming in contact with your cervix instantly, making your body barely jolt forward.

“You should be fucking ashamed, Y/N, not moaning.” he barked, as he began to move painfully slow. His thick length, running in and out of your tight walls at a lethargic pace.

Still, feeling every inch so powerfully split you apart with no preparation, the ridges of his member and his veins skimming your engorged insides ripped moans out of you like never before.

“You just love being a fuck toy for me, don’t you.” he said, roughly intensifying the grip on your hips as he gradually sped up his movements. He sounded just as rough, doing his best to hold back any signs of satisfaction, but it wasn’t easy. He had made you into a mess so quickly and it mostly came down to his demeanor.

Ever since he met you, he knew he’d treat you right and respectfully, only you.

He never cared to seem friendly to other girls, truthfully; because he had you.

The only girl that had naturally commanded such a soft love and tenderness out of him. It was almost ironic to him how the tougher he was with you in between the sheets, the more you melted.

And god, did he love to see you like this.

Spread vulnerably and already on the brink after a handful of thrusts.

It drove him mad, struggling to keep any self-control just to have you on a tittering edge.

But feeling you drip around him, your yearning for him ebbing and flowing out of your pussy as it mixed with the spit that you’d left on his cock, now all of it mixing and coating both of you.

“Yeah, my little doll.” he said, masking his exasperation as he found a steady rhythm that made your ass recoil delightfully against his pelvis, the chiseled V that framed his cock pounding hard into your flesh as you began to see stars.

Your mouth was stuck open, wanting his call out his name miserably but finding it impossible as the tension kept building within you, tightening your pussy all around and sending shivers down his back as his legs began to tense, inch by inch.

He groaned deeply, squeezing his eyes shut and striving to pivot on that feeling he adored so much, all the sensations that came with being buried deep inside you.

But all he found was that anger.

The emotion he had tried to leave at work, to get past.

The one that you had noticed.

For good reason, because it was unignorable.

And so he focused on it, the frustration that he had accumulated for months beginning to expand and find its way insidiously through every vessel, every corner of his being. His jaw clenched, the more he let it take over him, the more pleasure would grow, passing from you to him and burning brightly in his belly.

The hinges of the bed creaked and slammed against the wall, his bedframe scratching against his beloved wooden floor as his ears were blessed with your saccharine moans, leaving you unexpectedly and unplanned.

Your body knew how to take him precisely as his thrusts moved you forward, encouraging all the natural sounds to come out of you instinctively.

He was afraid that if he let go of your hips that he would lose it.

He was afraid that he’d pound you right into the mattress; instead, he had a set intention to make this last, to see how far he could take you.

Mat had never heard you sound so beautiful, he thought, just as his rage came to a peak; he could feel his joints begin to sore as he gave it his all, unwilling to stop and let go, fully zoned into unloading his stress.

He never knew it would bring you so much bliss as he looked down and saw the consequences, heavenly squelching echoing against his growls. He knew you were losing it, micro mannerisms in your body letting him see that you were reaching your orgasm hastily.

He didn’t need to see your face.

He knew that that familiar blush had knocked at your door, covering your cheeks expansively as your moaning got more high-pitched and frenetic, your pussy twitching around his moving cock.

“Slow down, you’re making a fucking mess.” he commanded, smugly knowing it would allow it to rip through you, just as it did.

His knuckles turned white just as yours did, the grip on your sheets fatally unyielding as you let go, coming over Mat.

The pleasure sparking every synapse in your brain, the cozy feeling flashing through you over and over again as he kept fucking, still roughly and aggressively.

“You’re fucking gushing.” he said, brave enough to let a hand come down, hard on your ass. The nonchalant tone of disgust in his voice made your whole body light up, tiny bumps forming on your skin at his words as you began to come down from your orgasm.

Mat kept relentlessly, only speeding up, just edging at the border of being too much. As he hit the same spot over and over again, forcefully, your limbs became weak, succumbing to the tremoring that Mat was sending through your system.

The more you came on him, the more degrading he’d become, periodically spitting onto your core. You knew it wasn’t for any functional purpose more than for humiliating pleasure, giving you everything you craved and more. You couldn’t ask for more, his groans and insults filling up the room; however, the needier you acted, the more Mat would crack under you.

And the more you pretended you didn’t notice it, the harder your eyes would roll back.

“You’re so fucking loud, god damn. I’d tell you to shut up, but I know you can’t do it, you’re so heated up.”

Your muscles started to twitch faintly as he snuck his hand around you to rub your clit vigorously, pushing against your skin with sadistic pressure. As much as you tried to get any words of warning out, your body betrayed you, falling pathetically flush against the mattress, the only thing leaving you a whimper.

The movement wasn’t surprising to you; you had noticed the build-up and distress signals a while ago but had stupidly given in to the thrill instead.

For Mat, however, it was a different story.

Seeing you tremble against his milky sheets, writhing around slowly and whimpering had him worried immediately. He pulled out swiftly before turning you around.

Thankfully, your eyes found each other, giving him an encouraging sign of lucidity from you.

“Look into my eyes. Are you okay?” he said, clenching his fingers underneath your chin.

“M’kay.”

Through blurry vision, you were able to find his dark gaze, regardless of how he was touching your face. The grip on your cheek was so protective and yet you couldn’t ignore the hedonism in his touch.

“What is it? I’m not going to keep fucking you if you’re lying to me.” he said, harshly.

Your brain had melted, completely caved into him, his energy and touch that had brought you to this place so quickly. The unfamiliar floaty feeling neighbored you as you began to tranquilize your boyfriend.

“I’m not lying.” you muttered lazily, gaining enough strength to prop yourself up on your elbows, your nose now touching his. “It just feels so good, Mat.”

Your confession took Mat by surprise.

His worst fear was taking it all too far, unwillingly hurting you in any way, whether that be physically or otherwise.

All the same, here you were, in all of your splendor under him, shaking from pleasure.

It didn’t take long to realize that perhaps he had induced some sort of high, if that was possible.

“You need a kiss?” he asked, his eyes still diligently studying your face. “You need a kiss, don’t you, yeah, come here.”

It wasn’t frenzied or fiery, and still, it told him everything he needed to know.

“That’s all? Better?” he looked at you once more, running his mental checklist.

Eyes were good, skin not too flushed, she can kiss normally, and speak. Not dehydrated or pale.

“Much better.”

The transparency in your speech set in stone what he had thought of.

The words that so easily came out of him, his mannerisms and gestures had sent you haywire, quivering with vibrant intensity, the bliss forcing its way out of your pores, steaming from your skin.

“Good job.” he coaxed, mentally patting himself on the back with a smirk as you fell back down onto the cloudy mattress with a dreamy sigh, a hazy look fixated on him.

Drunk on pleasure, he thought, snickering.

“I bet you feel so dirty, don’t you?” Mat said, his chest heaving with warm sweat dripping from his stubble down onto his pecs. Vulnerability surrounded you both, your eyes running upon each other’s bodies. Taking this moment to pause made sure you were attending to each other fully and completely, the desire still consuming you thoroughly. In the quietness, Mat took his fingers and began running them down your abdomen, barely grazing your clammy skin.

“I asked you a question, doll.” he said, moving his touch again up your centerline. You could only nod, his fingertips electrifying you with eternal bliss as they found their resting place on your plump lips.

“Are you having trouble with your words?” he said, breathlessly mocking you before you stuck your tongue out, soaking his digits by letting them sit on you.

After all, Mat didn’t think he could break any further.

Until then.

Seeing you embrace the feeling gave him the reassurance that he was subconsciously looking for.

He was incredulous at your actions, sticking your tongue out fully, with no shame or guilt, and only for him.

Letting your spit absorb into his calloused skin, while more saliva pooled visibly at the back of your throat.

Disgustingly.

And it made his throbbing cock twitch, heedlessly slapping against your cunt in a wet motion.

“Fuck, angel.”

He pushed it further by entering your mouth and your pussy simultaneously, a choked moan surrounding his hand as your eyes flew back.

“That’s my fucking girl.” he said, his eyebrows furrowed as he wasted no time in his fucking, militantly filling you fully again. “Doesn’t it make you feel so good, baby?”

“It does.” you moaned, obediently answering his every question and request.

“Doesn’t it feel so fucking good to be so dirty for me?” he asked, flush taking over him again.

It was so delightful to see him let go, fully, just as he thought the same about you.

“So nasty, such a sick little girl.” he continued. “Turn around, come here.”

Mat sat back on his heels, guiding you to sit on his cock.

The will was stronger than logic, your thighs quivering as you sunk down on him.

Mat always hit deeper at this angle, his cock bulging out on your lower tummy as your ass came flush with him.

“You’re so bad, so fucking bad. And look at you, you don’t even care.” he said, moving your hair to the side as his lips grazed against the shell of your ear.

“What would everyone say if they saw you acting like this, huh? Begging to take me after I’m so mean to you. After I slap you, choke you, and spit on you. After I say the most degrading fucking shit to you, you don’t care. It makes your panties drenched, doesn’t it?”

Mat’s hands ran up past your tummy and found a tight hold on your tits, variating between letting them bounce in his palm and gripping them so desperately that it left marks on you. Your chests moved in synch, up and down with your motions; you let your head fall back on his shoulder as you unavailingly rebounded briskly, tightening just at the perfect moment, when your opening came in touch with the delicious curve between his pelvis and the base of his cock.

“Just as I fucking thought, you can’t even hold back.” he said, grinding ever so slightly against you. The recognizable feeling started to take over you for the millionth time, candied moans causing Mat to jolt against you unexpectedly and thrust deeper.

“You’re going to cum again, aren’t you?” he asked, slapping one of your breasts. “Your body gives you away so easily, angel face.”

He was solid under you, your loving foundation as more juices ran out of you, covering his thighs in sticky squirt, your whole being quivering in delight with his arms instinctively holding you through it.

“That’s because you’re mine, yeah?”

Your eyes, stuck on the ceiling, recognized just how close his face was to yours, gaze fixated on your expression as it furrowed and sweated the incessant orgasm.

“Yeah, I don’t even have to fucking ask.”

Mat kept talking, kept grinding, as his hands got more desperate, undecided between all the layers of skin and flesh. The more he focused on you, the more he felt like he couldn’t hold back any longer, and as much as he felt that most of the night, he knew that the simple intemperance that had built inside him was about to burst.

“Look at you. You need more? You always fucking do.” he coaxed, settling his left hand on your throat as your whole body kept aching, spasming sweetly on top of him.

Totally uncontrolled.

Unaware of what liquids were leaving you and what noises you were making.

Your brain only handling and pining for pleasure.

More and more.

“It’s never fucking enough for you, is it? You love it when I cross the line with you, you needy, needy girl.” he said, his grip on your throat tightening slightly enough to make your dotted vision fill with sparkles.

Your head snapped up as your abdomen contracted, almost painfully sore, finally letting you breathe deeply as your body gave you a second to recuperate.

Tears involuntarily left the corners of your eyes, perhaps from the delectation of it all, the intensity, the overwhelm, or the tiredness.

“It feels so, so good. You make me feel so good.” you managed to find the strength to whisper against Mat’s lips before letting yours fall on top of his in a loving kiss.

“Oh, god, you’re going to make me cum, baby.”

Mat’s voice quivered, as he stared into you; he had never breathed deeper and yet hyperventilated at the same time, just as he'd never felt so much rage and frustration mixed with pleasure all at once.

“Like that, like that, like that.” he said, through gritted teeth. “Fucking look at me.”

He grabbed your chin roughly, your face pouting under his touch in the cutest way, he thought. “Like that, baby, fuck.”

Mat exclaimed loudly as he colvulsed forward, his cum filling your tight hole with a growl so deep that you felt yourself vibrate at the power in his voice. You sloppily kept jumping on his dick, every single muscle of his being flexing in concentration and gratification as his warm seed seeped inside you and overflowed, running down his hips before he had the chance to pull out.

“Oh, fuck, baby.” he moaned, breathlessly. You finally fell, completely limp, into the puddle that he made you in since the beginning.

“That’s okay, that’s okay, fall into my arms.” Mat reassured, still firing under you. “You did so good. You were so, so good, angel.”

Mat had enough of a size advantage on you to manhandle you, this time turning you both onto your sides after a couple of quiet moments, keeping his cock warm still inside your folds.

“I love you, I love you, baby. So much. Thank you, thank you. Come here.” he whispered against you, running his hand through your locks as he pulled you closer to him by your waist.

“Are you good, baby?” he said, watching you nod with a sweet smile on your face. “Why are you crying?”

“It just felt so good, babe.” you reassured him, turning slightly to play with his shining chain that sat damply on his collarbones.

“I would never hurt you, yeah? You’re safe with me.” he whispered into your cheek in between kisses. “I got you always, babe. Nothing’s going to hurt you while I’m here.”

“I know, baby, I love you.” you said, your eyes into his. “Are you okay, Mat?”

“Oh, baby, yes, yes I’m okay don’t worry. Was I too rough? Too mean? You can tell me, love.”

“No, no, it was perfect.” you repeated. You’d say it as many times as it was needed.

“Good. You were perfect.” he said.

You didn’t know, but he thought the same. Reassurance had no limit for him.

“I see you, I see you fully and I love you, I love everything about you.”

“I love you more, Mat.” you said in between kisses. “Do you feel better now?”

“Oh, baby. So much fucking better.”

#mat barzal #mathew barzal #mat barzal rpf #mat barzal smut #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fic #ny islanders #smut #nhl #nhl rpf #hockey #nhl fic #nhl smut #hockey smut #kikiwrites

1K notes · View notes

linahopeeeee · 2 years

Text

Just The Tip

ღ Pairing: Midoriya Izuku x reader

ღ Summary: Izuku promises to just put the tip in

ღ Words: 600

ღ Notes: what is this? It probably sucks but I’m bored and high so I’ll give it to you guys anyway 😌

MDNI

masterlist

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

“please bunny? just the tip I promise, I just really need to feel you” your boyfriend Izuku begs. Your best friends Katsuki and Eijirou are having a housewarming party tonight to celebrate the house that they just bought together and the two of you are already late.

“cant you just wait till we get home later?” you question from your spot in the passenger seat, your checking to make sure your lip stick isn’t smudge.

“besides you always say just the tip” you start, lowering your voice to make yourself sound more like him “and its never just the tip” you finish.

“I know but it’ll really just be the tip this time, I’m so hard it hurts, you wouldn’t want me to be in pain all night would you?” he uses his best puppy dog eyes against you, bottom lip poked out into a pout.

“fine, you get five minutes and I swear if I see even a drop of cum on my dress you won’t be getting any for the next week” you warn him, already taking your seatbelt off and climbing into the backseat, a smirking Izuku following.

Your sliding your underwear down your legs and tossing them somewhere in the front as Izuku pushes his pants down his thighs, stroking himself a couple of times before he’s lining himself up at your entrance.

“fuck” he grunts as your tightness swallows him greedily, he smirks to himself at how wet you are for someone who didn’t even want to do this, but doesn’t comment on it. Instead he uses his thumb to collect some of your slick, bringing it up to your clit and rubbing precise circles, he only has five minutes to get you to cum and that’s a challenge he’s willing to accept.

“fuck z-zu” you stutter as the tip of his cock brushes against that spot deep inside your walls. Your hands get tangled in his curly green hair, as you pull him down, lips sucking roughly on his neck, a small hickey forming instantly.

“god you’re so tight” he groans as his lips find yours in a heated kiss. You’re so lost in the pleasure you don’t even care that he’s ruining the makeup it took you half an hour to perfect earlier, all you care about is the familiar tightening in your stomach, walls clenching around Izuku.

You can tell he’s close too, with the way his cock keeps twitching inside of you and his thrusts are getting sloppy.

“where do you want me to cum?” Izuku asks, lips against your neck, teeth softly grazing the exposed skin.

“i-inside” you moan when he brings his hand back down to flick at your clit, as he releases inside of you, painting your walls white.

After a quick mirror check to make sure you both look okay, your walking hand in hand to the door, smiling when Katsuki opens it up, he has an annoyed look on his face when he spots deku but breaks out into a grin when he notices the mark left on his neck.

“next time you have sex with your girlfriend in a car, you probably shouldn’t do it in someone driveway” Katsuki says with a chuckle, laughing harder when he sees the way Izuku’s cheeks and the tips of his ears turn red, before walking away.

Izuku stands embarrassed by the door for a couple of moments before walking the the direction Katsuki just went, happily greeting the rest of the party.

#izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #bnha izuku #mha izuku #bhna deku #deku smut #deku fanfic #deku fic #izuku smut #midoriya smut #izuku x reader #deku x fem!reader #deku x y/n #deku x you #izuku midoria x reader #izuku x y/n #izuku x you

2K notes · View notes

mhahaikyuus · 5 months

Text

Hair

wc:; 1.4k

tags: black reader x katsuki, newly established relationship (still trying to keep up the illusion for your partner), black reader doing her hair, emotional reader, Katsuki being the rational calm boyfriend, fluffy, cute ending.

a/n: i skimmed barely proofread sorry for any mistakes, hope you guys enjoy. reblogs appreciated.

“I can come over tonight?” Katsuki asked on speaker of your phone.

You two spent everyday together since he had confessed to you by shoving flowers into your hands and running off before you had a chance to respond in slight shock.

“Uh I’m busy tonight sorry.” You said watching yourself in the mirror studying your scalp distracted.

“Okay what about tomorrow?” Katsuki grunted unhappy he would spend time away from you.

“Tomorrow I'm busy too, i can’t hang out this weekend.” You said eyeing the thin black plastic bag filled with beauty supplies sitting on your vanity.

He frowned, you always told him about upcoming plans you had. At lunch always rambling about whatever you wanted and him listening with small grunts and nods. You didn’t mention anything before about plans.

“What are you doing?” He asked. Not wanting to pry so early into a relationship and scare you off. He had plans to make you his permanently but he was nosey.

“My hair,” You answered honestly.

“What do you mean your hair? It takes that long?” He asked confused.

“Yeah, it does. I have a lot of hair and it takes a lot of hours sometimes a couple of days.” You admitted with a sigh already dreading the process.

Katsuki sat there on the other side of the phone with a small sigh of relief. You weren’t blowing him off with anyone else, just your hair. He had no idea about black hair but he knew he cared about you and that meant this was important.

“Do you need help?” He offered making you silent in surprise widely blinking at the phone.

The man that would tell his partner in the field to fuck off when he asked. Was readily offering you his help.

You let out a small laugh, “I do but I don’t think you know what that entails. It’s a really long process and it’s tiring. Im okay though thanks for asking.”

He just wanted to see you. After spending every day together for a month, he doesn’t know if he could go 3 days.

“Alright the offer still stands if you change your mind. Don’t tire yourself out.” He sighed and you both said your goodbyes.

You fiddled with the ends of your hair with a huff.

“Let’s get this over with.”

You wanted to ram your head into a wall. Staring at half your head being braided, 10 hours down and probably another 7 to go.

Your back hurt, your arms hurt, your head hurt it was not ideal. Not eating all day and getting irritated at everything you were in a mood.

Throwing the rat tail comb from your hands on the floor you flopped onto your bed in tears needing a break.

Your phone began buzzing, face still in the mattress you reached around til you found it and pressed answer button.

“Hello,” You answered muffled

“Hey how’s it going?” Bakugo asked

You sniffled pulling your head up tears running.

“It’s fine.”

Bakugo heard how upset you were causing his forehead to crease, “What’s wrong baby?” in a softer voice.

“It’s nothing it’s just my hair and i’m tired and cranky and i haven’t eaten all day. I’ve only done maybe half of my head and i want to stop.” You said through tears.

“Hey, hey please stop crying it’ll be okay.” Katsuki said trying to soothe you through the phone but it wasn’t working. Noticing a twinge in his chest at the sound of your soft sniffles.

You left out small huffs trying to control your breathing, “Yeah…sorry I should go you don’t want to hear me crying. Sorry to bother.” You realized you were probably scaring away the one guy you did like with your hysterics.

“No I didn-“

“I have to go thanks for calling.”

Katsuki stared at the phone feeling his stomach sink.

You cried until your eyes were puffy and reluctantly went back to braiding your hair. You were so impatient and tender headed but you would not spend 200+ dollars on box braids.

After about an hour you heard a knock on your door. You opened it to your boyfriend with a bag of takeout and one from the pharmacy.

You yelped in surprise slamming the door just as fast as you opened it.

Katsuki was very confused and kind of hurt at your reaction.

“Y/n! What the fuck come on.” He yelled from the other side of the door.

Your face held such embarrassment, hoping this was a figment of your imagination.

Your boyfriend was NOT here when you looked like a hot mess.

Your non-black boyfriend at that.

This is a nightmare.

“What are you doing here!” You yelled back through the door.

“Baby you were crying and I haven’t seen you in almost 2 days!"

You groaned, “You can’t see me like this! you have to go home.”

He grunted in annoyance, “You better open up. Im not leaving when you were crying.”

You were silent waiting for him to go home and he wasn’t budging. With a sigh you opened the door peaking out at him.

“Are ya gonna let me in?” He asked with raised blond eyebrows and pretty crimson eyes.

You opened the door and stepped aside.

“What’s wrong why are you slamming doors and crying?” He asked looking down at you as he entered your apartment.

You slowly closed the door behind you and leaned back against it.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this.” You admitted thankful that you didn't blush noticeably.

“Baby like what.” He sighed dropping the bags on your coffee table and bringing you in close.

Your head fell into his muscular chest, smelling his cologne.

“My hair.” You mumbled into his shirt.

He pulled back and used one hand to push back your hair to see your face. Your hair is in sections and a half-braided mess.

“I like you and your hair. So will you calm down please?”

“Really?” You asked with teary eyes looking up at him.

“Yes, I do.” He reassured his hands gently holding you, his main goal to calm you down from this tired anxiety driven mood.

“Okay.” You mumbled head falling back into his chest.

He rubbed your back, “What’s going on?” asking again.

“I stayed up all night and im not even halfway done. I have a headache.” You mumbled in tears.

Katsuki led you to the couch and made you take a seat.

“Take a break. You look hangry and I brought food.” He said propping you in his lap and handing you takeout.

You finished your food and leaned your head in his neck. Your headache stopping. He was right as usual, you were hangry.

“I’m sorry for slamming the door in your face that was mean.” You said wrapping him in a side hug.

His hand rubbed the side of your thigh with a light kiss on your nose.

“It’s okay, ya didnt break my nose with the door slam.” Katsuki said making you laugh.

“Can I?” He asked gesturing to your head and you nodded.

Katsuki’s thick fingers touching your blow dried hair.

“It’s soft.” He said with mild surprise, “Like really soft.”

You laughed, “Yeah I do have soft hair, but so do you.” Reaching up and lightly tugging on his spiky blonde hair. His hair was getting longer in the back. It may be because he loves your hands all over him and especially his head, giving you more hair to yank. Just a theory of course you would never say to him.

He grunted, “You feel better?”

“Yes…” You nodded as he smiled knowing what he was gonna say

“Crying over the being hungry?” He teased showing his canines with his smile and you rolled your eyes.

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Are you discriminating against a black woman?” You squinted but Bakugo had heard that before.

“I just came over here with food to stop your crying and got a door slammed in my face.” He said with narrowed eyes matching your own.

“Uh fine.” You sighed, “Can you not be a good boyfriend so I can call you a bigot.” Your hand trailing up his stomach under his shirt, wanting skin to skin contact.

He pinched the inside of your thigh making you yelp in pain in response. His head deeply buried into your neck just enjoying your touch

“Ow…”You whined rubbing the bruised spot.

#mha #mha imagines #mha scenarios #my hero academia #mha x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo katuski #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x y/n #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki fluff #bakugo fluff #bakugo x black reader

327 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 8 months

Note

i’d love to see a doctor!remus with a reader that has chronic pain, if you’re interested in writing that <3

Thanks for requesting! I read online that migraines are considered chronic pain, so I hope that's accurate

cw: migraine, period cramps

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 726 words

The bed dips as Remus replaces the cold compress over your eyes, and you feel like you’re sandwiched between two temperatures, heating pad on your belly and ice pack on your head.

“Can I have more painkillers, please?” you mumble.

Remus’ voice is usually quiet, but now he speaks softer than soft. “You can have more in an hour.”

A self-pitying ache starts up in the back of your throat. Which is great, because what you really need right now is more aches. “Can you pass me my coffee then?”

There’s a second of hesitation, and you can hear the denial forming in it. “It’s too late for caffeine,” he murmurs. “You need to sleep soon or it’ll only be worse tomorrow, lovely girl. I’m sorry.”

He sounds it, but a petulant whine works its way out of you anyway. A hot tear leaks from the corner of your eye, dribbling into your hair. You know crying will only make things worse, but you’re feeling so wretchedly sorry for yourself that you almost don’t care. Worse isn’t something you can conceptualize.

“It hurts all over,” you whimper.

Remus makes a sound just as miserable, and then his hand is at your hairline, stroking tentatively. “I know,” he whispers. “I know, I’m so sorry. Do you need the heating pad turned up?”

You murmur that you don’t. Your cramps aren’t great, but they pale in comparison to the throbbing agony of your head. And even if it helped your cramps, you don’t think you could handle the sensation of more temperatures right now.

“Okay.” Remus pets your hair gently, callouses scraping against the skin of your forehead. “All right, darling, let’s try this.”

He takes your hand in his, and you can feel the edge of his short nail as he presses into your palm, rubbing tiny, concentrated circles into your skin. For a minute you can’t muster the will to ask what he’s doing, but then the pain ebbs slightly, and you find your voice.

“What’s this?”

“Pressure point. Is it helping?”

“I think so.” Not a ton, but it’s something. You force yourself to relax the muscles around your eyes, and that helps a bit too. “Thank you,” you breathe.

Remus makes a soft sound, catching another tear as it skids down your face. His thumb still drills into that place on your palm. It hurts a tiny bit, but not near enough for you to ask him to stop. “It kills me to see you like this,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

“Yeah, couldn’t you get me some morphine or something?”

The little laugh that follows is odd-sounding, like he’s stifled it with a hand. “Actually, it might be worth losing my license for that. If you really want me to, just say the word.”

“I’ll let you know.”

There’s a few seconds where you can only hear each other breathing. It’s always a little bit weird, knowing he can see you when you can’t see him. You wonder, distantly, shamefully, if you look pretty. There’s no sense in asking Remus. You know what he’ll say.

“Can I touch you?’ he asks quietly.

“You’ve been touching me, Lupin.”

Another half-smothered chuckle. Remus’ hand rests delicately on the top of your head, his thumb stroking an upward path along your forehead. You hum in approval.

“If you go to sleep now,” he says softly, thumb lifting from your hand, “your headache might be gone when you wake up.”

You take a deep breath, gauging your own tiredness. You think you can do it.

“And so long as you sleep for more than an hour, I promise to get out of bed to get you more painkillers.”

“You’d better,” you mutter, and you can feel his smile against your skin when he leans down to kiss your cheek. “Hug me?”

You intend for it to sound light, almost like a joke, but the question comes out laden with all the neediness you’d hoped to hide. Remus doesn’t begrudge you, one arm needling under the small of your back while the other wraps across your ribcage. He scoots closer until your arm is pressed to his front.

“This okay?”

“Better than okay. Thanks, Rem.”

His lips brush delicately across your cheekbone, the soft bit of skin just next to your eye. “Don’t mention it.”

657 notes · View notes

joelalorian · 6 months

Text

Fall Into Me - Chapter Five: My Whole World Came Alive

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 2.9k

Chapter Warnings: Mature, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, confusion, and self doubt. Two idiots falling and pining for each other, and finally some progress. Tommy keeps it real. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad. Emily is modeled after my sister and JB is based on my dad, who used to try setting me up with his younger work buddies when I was in my 20s :)

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Thank you all for reading! Comments and reblogs make me weep with gratefulness.

Some of the tags aren't working in the taglist - if you're not getting the notifications, please check your settings to make sure you are taggable. Thx!

Chapter Four | Main Masterlist

Sitting in Phil’s Icehouse with juicy burgers and drinks – you insisted Joel try a mimosa – conversation flowed between the two of you. Joel found his lips twitching into a smile at nearly every word that came out of your mouth. He was fascinated with the stories you shared of your college years, and he listened, completely enraptured, to your plans for the future. Every bit of your lunch together felt like a date. He wondered if you felt the same, yet he couldn’t find the courage to ask outright.

“Yeah, so, I have a meeting at Sarah’s school this week for a possible position. Remember that interview I mentioned a few weeks back? It went really well and now they want me to meet with the teacher who’s retiring and the principal,” you explained, sipping at your mimosa. “I’m pretty excited.”

Joel’s eyes lit up. He’d forgotten that you were looking at a position at Sarah’s school. “Wow, that’s great, darlin’. This would be for a science teacher position, right?”

“Yep. Middle grade science.” The beaming smile you flashed him nearly blinded Joel. “Wanna know the best part? If I get this job, I’ll have the same hours as Sarah, give or take a bit, so I can continue with the school drop-off and pickup for you. She might have to stay later with me somedays, but it’ll still work.”

Nodding, Joel’s mind was flashing lightyears forward, picturing you calling his house home and taking Sarah to school with you, coming home to have dinner together, watching TV in the evenings. Heart thudding in his chest at just the thought of you living together, Joel shook himself. He had to slow his mind down, put the brakes on those kinds of thoughts until after you were actually dating him, at least.

“You could be Sarah’s science teacher in a few years, huh?” Joel asked, focusing once again on listening to you instead of drifting off into daydreams.

“Could be, yeah,” you laughed. “I imagine she’d be my favorite student.”

He beamed at that. Conversation shifted to other things and soon your meals were finished.

“We should do this again,” you said, glassy eyes meeting his across the table, lips curved in a gentle smile. “I really enjoyed spending time with you, Joel.”

Fighting the urge to grab your hand and entangle your fingers, Joel smiled back. “Yeah, me too.” He wanted to kick himself for not saying more, for not asking you out for a real date. He just couldn’t find his words.

How was it that you made him so nervous?

Joel spent the next week in some kind of weird liminal space between a dream and reality, between agonizing confusion and utter happiness. Lunch with you on Sunday felt like a date – he asked you with the intention of it being a date, even if you didn’t know that yet. He spent the week thinking about that lunch, how you teased each other, laughed, shared stories of your past. How your gazes locked for longer than necessary, touches lingered, the smiles never fell from your faces.

It was wonderful, yet nothing was said of what it all meant – which was his fault, probably. Hence the roller coaster of feelings throughout the week.

He could tell you felt it, too. Doing as Tommy suggested, he started paying close attention to how you acted around him, how you looked at him when you thought he wasn’t looking. It was all starting to come together. He could finally see what Tommy was talking about.

You liked him. You really liked him, Joel Miller, overworked single father.

It was a wonderful feeling, knowing that someone liked him. It’d been way too long since he felt that way, that spark of hope for something more.

For the first time in a long time, he slept well the night before and woke early, eager to face the day and see you before heading off to work. He was already out front, filling a birdfeeder Sarah asked for, when you arrived.

“Good mornin’, darlin’,” he greeted, pulling the car door open for you once you parked in the driveway. His heart skipped a beat at the way you smiled up at him, taking his hand to help you out of the car. Your touch electric on his roughened palm.

“Hiya, Joel.” Your voice washed over him, warm as honey and twice as sweet. “Whatcha doing out here?’

Gesturing to the red barn-style feeder Sarah picked, he finished filling it with the wild bird seed the clerk insisted birds loved. “Just fillin’ our new birdfeeder.”

“Oh, what a cute feeder!” You admired the intricate features as it hung from the post Joel installed. “Sarah has been talking nonstop about birds this week. Hopefully we’ll see some good ones.”

“Hope so,” Joel hummed in return. “Don’t know much about birds personally, but I’m sure Sarah’ll teach me.” Your smile brightened at his sheepish grin.

“I have a bird guide I could give her to help identify all the different types that visit the feeder.” Your face lit up with excitement. “I even have binoculars from when I took an ornithology class in undergrad. I’ll bring them when I pick up Sarah this afternoon.”

“Orna what now?” Joel questioned. He had no idea what kind of class you were talking about, but he loved how smart you were.

“Ornithology,” you repeated, drawing out each syllable with a soft giggle. “It’s the study of birds. It was a really cool class. We had field trips around campus once a week to go bird watching. I got pretty good at naming the different species that we saw, but it’s been a while.”

In awe of you, Joel’s eyes crinkled with the strength of his grin. “Would you, uh, maybe want to go on an adventure with us tomorrow?” he asked, stumbling a bit over his words, a nervous energy welling up in his gut as he once again sort of asked you out. “We could go for a hike in the county park, and you could teach us about birds.”

You gazed at him, lips pursed in thought, for long enough that Joel began to fidget, brimming with recurring doubt. Did he misinterpret the signs after all? He wouldn’t be surprised. He wasn’t any good at this stuff anymore. You responded before he could spiral back into the land of self-doubt. “That sounds great, Joel. I’d love to.”

A visceral relief washed through him. “It’s a date then,” he said, his voice deep and rough while his dark chocolate eyes locked with yours. A satisfied smirk graced his lips as your eyebrows rose in surprise. Too quickly, doubt clouded your pretty eyes, and you laughed it off like he was teasing you. Joel sighed. He would be more direct next time. He’d get the hang of asking a woman on a date again someday. Hopefully.

“We’ll have to go early, is that okay? Birds are more active in the early morning hours,” you explained, heading for the door to find Sarah.

“That’s fine. We’ll make a day of it, grab lunch somewhere when we’re done.” Joel followed you into the house, already plotting out conversations in his head on how to properly ask you on a date.

The rest of the day went by in a blur for Joel and before he knew it, the job was finished, and it was only mid-afternoon when he arrived home. You pulled into the driveway with Sarah shortly after him and he came down from taking a shower to find the pair of you on the living room floor playing a racing video game.

“Hi Daddy!” Sarah exclaimed as he kissed the top of her head and took a seat on the couch. It didn’t take long before Sarah asked him to play as well and the three of you were taking turns racing against each other, laughing when one of you crashed.

There were moments, when your gaze would connect with Joel’s and he’d swear you shared the same thought – this was how it could be if you were together, a family.

“Do you want to stay for pizza? Tommy and your dad are coming over,” Joel asked when Sarah’s attention focused elsewhere.

“We have an early morning ahead of us, Miller. Don’t be up late partying with the guys,” you replied with a smile that reached your twinkling eyes. “I’ll stay for a bit, but then I need to go dig out the old binoculars and get my beauty sleep.”

“You’re already beautiful,” he murmured, watching your eyes widen as you smile demurely.

“You say the sweetest things, Joel.” Your voice held a teasing tone that drove Joel nuts. How was he ever going to convince you that he was serious?

Shortly thereafter, Tommy arrived, pizza and beer in hand. “Come on, Millers! I come bearing gifts. JB here yet?”

“I’m right here, ya troglodyte,” your dad called from the front yard, stepping up the porch steps as Tommy whirled around.

“What the hell did you just call me?”

“A troglodyte. Learned it from Spud and thought it fitting since you don’t close doors behind you.” He winked at you as he teased the younger Miller brother. Placing a kiss on your cheek, he added, “Hey Spud, haven’t seen you in a bit. Must be working too hard. Miller! You workin’ my daughter too hard?”

Joel spluttered. He was too busy gazing at you to pay much attention to JB and feared he got busted. “I hardly think so,” he grumbled, fighting the blush he knew rose to his cheeks.

“Ah, in the same ol’ grumpy mood, I see. Maybe this’ll help.” Your dad placed a 12-pack of Joel’s favorite beer on the coffee table before taking a seat in the recliner he always chose at Joel’s place.

The five of you sat around the living room, eating pizza with beer for the men and sodas for you and Sarah. The conversation revolved mainly around construction work, and you ended up taking your leave before the sun dipped below the horizon. Your dad followed not long after, eager to relax in his own well-worn recliner.

“Alright, nugget. It’s time for bed. We have an early morning tomorrow,” Joel said, swinging the young girl over his shoulder much to her delight. “Say goodnight to Uncle Tommy.”

“G’night Uncle Tommy,” Sarah squealed as Joel tickled her sides.

“G’night nugget.”

Always a good kid, Sarah went right to bed after brushing her teeth, but not before pestering Joel about why they had to get up early on a Saturday. Pressing a loving kiss to her forehead, Joel tucked her in. “We’re going on a surprise adventure. Now, to sleep with you.”

Returning to the living room, Tommy handed him another beer as the brothers watched Sportscenter. “Have you made any progress yet?” Tommy asked.

Matching dark eyes met as Joel shrugged. He knew his brother was talking about you. “Some, I guess. Told ya I took her to lunch on Sunday and that felt a lot like a date. I asked her to go on a hike with me and Sarah tomorrow. I told her it was a date after she agreed, but she thought I was jokin’.” He paused, taking a long pull from the bottle of beer. “Then, this afternoon, I told her she was beautiful and again she thought I was teasing.”

Swirling the bottle of beer in his hand, Tommy shook his head and chuckled. “She’s givin’ you a run for your money, brother. Good on her.”

“Good on her,” Joel mocked, but his tone quickly turned to pleading. “I need more advice. Surely you got something up your sleeve for women like her.”

“Nah, brother. The only way to get someone like her is to be yourself and keep chipping away. It’s clear she has as much self-doubt as you do, so it’ll take her time to believe you’re for real.” Tommy eyed his brother a moment as he mulled over the situation. “Though, I will say this. You need to start bein’ direct – come right out and ask her on a date, for fuck’s sake. Enough hinting at shit. It’s clearly gettin’ you nowhere.”

You arrived on the Millers’ doorstep bright and early the next morning, two travel mugs of coffee and a container of chocolate milk in hand. A pair of binoculars and Sibley’s Guide to Birds were tucked away in the bag you wore over your shoulder.

“Wakey, wakey, Millers! The early bird gets the worm!”

Joel and Sarah were perched at the breakfast bar when you let yourself in, both looking half awake and less than enthusiastic about being up so early on a Saturday.

“Too damn cheerful for this early,” Joel grumbled half-heartedly. His pitiful smile looked more like a grimace, yet you found it adorable. It made you ache to run your fingers through his hair until you drew a real smile from his lips.

“Don’t gimme that. This was your idea, Joel Miller!” you sassed in return, patting his broad shoulders. “Let’s go!”

Herding cats, that was the perfect analogy to describe the next fifteen minutes as you tried to get the Millers moving and into Joel’s truck. Just when you’d get one heading for the door, the other would disappear. Finally, you managed to wrangle them both into the truck and you were well on your way to the preserve. The ride didn’t take long, Sarah peppering you with questions about birds she found in your guidebook as Joel drove. By the time Joel pulled into a parking spot at the entrance to the trails, everyone was wide awake and ready to hike.

The morning was crisp and refreshing as you zipped up your jacket and looked around. You’d never been to this preserve before and wanted to find a trail map, but the mini-Miller was too anxious to wait for that.

“I can hear the birds chirping already, Daddy! Come on!” Sarah exclaimed, charging toward the first trail excitedly.

Joel beamed as Sarah took off, turning to you before following her. “Ready?” He reached out a hand, palm up and fingers splayed, inviting you to grasp it.

Your eyes trailed from his outstretched hand to his heavy gaze, uncertain of what to make of the signals Joel gave off. The feelings you harbored for the man grew stronger each day, yet you couldn’t quite get a read on whether he shared even a fraction of those feelings. Somedays, you thought he did. Yet others, you figured he thought you had a crush on him and found amusing. Your heart sunk on those days, causing the doubt to linger every time he did something to make you think otherwise.

The moment carried on too long, you realized, as Joel’s warm eyes began to shutter, the tender smile starting to slip. Bolstering your nerves, you plunged ahead and grasped his large hand in yours, tangling your fingers with his thicker ones. His hand was warm, skin roughened from years of working with his hands, and it felt wonderful against your smoother skin.

Heat flashed up your chest and neck as Joel led you down the trail to catch up with Sarah. A broad smile never left your lips as you walked.

“I meant it, you know,” Joel’s deep, gruff voice rumbled from deep in his chest and you glanced up to meet his gaze. “What I said yesterday, about this being a date. If that’s something you’re interested in.”

Heart thumping wildly, your mouth opened and closed a few times before you found your words. “Are you sure? I mean, yes. Yes, I’m interested.” You winced at how flustered you sounded, tripping over your words. And, worse yet, why was your voice so squeaky?

“Never been surer in my life,” Joel confirmed, his gaze searing your skin as he watched you, taking in every minute change in expression. His hand squeezed yours gently, steadying the butterflies in your stomach.

“I would really like that,” you replied breathlessly, relieved to finally have confirmation that the moments between you and Joel weren’t all in your head. You were on Cloud 9 until reality smacked you in the face. “But what about my dad?”

Sarah popped around a copse of live oaks, startling you both from. “Come on, you slow pokes! The birdies aren’t gonna wait all day for us to find them!” Not trusting you both to follow her on your own, the little girl latched on to your hand and pulled you along the trail. “You need to help me find the birds,” Sarah reminded you.

Joel’s hand still clasped in yours, you dragged him behind you, grinning over your shoulder at him. “I’m liking this date already, Joel.”

He beamed back at you. The three of you walked in silence for a bit, listening to the sounds of nature around you. When you spotted a bird blind, you handed Sarah the binoculars and the guidebook, challenging her to identify as many birds as she could from that spot. Joel stood next to you, watching Sarah enjoy the activity.

“Let’s see where this goes first before we worry about your dad,” he murmured. “I’d like to take you on a few dates first, okay?”

It made sense and you nodded, pleased at the way things were working out. Your hand remained in Joel’s throughout the birding adventure and though Sarah never mentioned it, her smile grew wide at the sight.

tbc

p.s. we should start building up to the good stuff in the next chapter.

Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx @pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr @lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg @ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby @deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel x female reader #the last of us #tlou #dbf!joel #Fall Into Me #pedro pascal #eventual smut #mutual pining #idiots falling for each other

314 notes · View notes

avernusreject · 10 months

Text

Warning ya'll this is gonna be a long post. But please join my descent into insanity, as I deep dive into the vague wormhole that is the durge betrayal pre bg3 timeline.

Before we start, it’ll help if you have context around the faerun calendar. There are twelve months in total, each having exactly 30 days. Additionally, weeks don’t exist in faerun. Rather months get broken down into chunks of time called tendays, which you guessed is literally just ten days. If that was too straight forward for you, don’t worry, they add in five extra days to the calendar that fall outside of the months (ngl I still have no idea where these are located) to make the full year 365 days.

At the beginning of the game, the nautiloid crash occurs at 20 Eleasis. Which means, the game starts in the middle of summer. Obviously, the way you play the game is going to influence the speed of events, but for my playthrough I reached moonrise towers around 12 elient (total time being 22 days). When you get to moonrise, in Bathazar’s chamber you can find his journal that explains that Kressa (the crazy necromancer chick) managed to keep durge alive. This entry is dated “two tenday ago”. But in game, that makes no sense because we know that the nautiloid should have crashed around that point. So either Balthazar doesn’t understand how the Faerun calendar works (I mean same, my guy) or we have to change our frame of reference. I think its more likely that the implied frame of reference is the start of the game, 20 Eleasis (since the developers can’t control how fast the player goes).

If true, durge was saved by Kressa around 1 Eleasis. Her vivisections took place after this in the following days. However, durge is taken away before the end of the following tendays (at least before 10 Eleasis).

Now when you talk to Kressa in the basement of moonrise, she states that she found durge only hours after they had been given the tadpole.

In the fight with Orin, she states that when she attacked durge she carved out a hole for the worm (ignore the Half-Elf part, that's just from the moment Orin turns into durge during the pre-fight convo).

The part that we're missing is when specifically the tadpole was inserted into durge. But given how the game describes just how utterly fucked durge was, there's a high likelyhood that the tadpole was given to durge moments after their fight. Which if true, places Orin's betrayal at 1 Eleasis. Giving us twenty days till the start of the game.

The piece that threw me for a bit was this piece of the narrator's dialogue when durge examines the pod, stating that durge had no idea how much time had passed.

But the blood in the pod is still fresh enough that Astarion is able to ID it as durge & in another dialogue choice if you examine the blood further the narrator states the blood hasn't been there long enough to rot.

I think this dialogue is more explaining that durge is actively being tortured by Kressa so time feels unending (kressa being the one who put them in the pod to begin with).

I've seen in other posts that Gortash's draft memoir explains that Orin's betrayal occurred during or just around the crowning of the brain (I don't have a screenshot of that unfortunately). But we have to take that with a grain of salt because Gortash is the definition of an unreliable narrator.

Personally, I don't think he's lying though. Orin's betrayal occurred in moonrise and there's really no other reason that Orin and durge would be in moonrise that the game has provided. Not to mention, the warden explains the last time that durge was in moonrise, they never left.

I don't think durge came to moonrise more then once given the fact that the warden, who had clearly been there a while, had no clue who they were. I find it hard to believe their identity would be kept under wraps had they been at moonrise multiple times. Employees have to gossip about something.

I think its likely that Ketheric, Gortash, and Durge tamed the brain in the days leading up to 1 Eleasis (like ~20 to 30 Flamerule).

In summary, the dead three had a Phineas and Ferb summer vacation by deciding to create the cult of the absolute.

And yes if you are wondering this is how I look now.

#the durge timeline makes me want to scream sometimes #the dark urge #durge #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #enver gortash #orin #kressa bonedaughter #balthazar #durgetash

354 notes · View notes

inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 6 months

Text

1968 [Chapter 3: Hermes, God Of Thieves]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 4.5k

Tagging: @arcielee @huramuna @glasscandlegrenades @gemmagirlss1 @humanpurposes @mariahossain @marvelescvpe @darkenchantress @aemondssapphirebussy @haslysl @bearwithegg @beautifulsweetschaos @travelingmypassion @althea-tavalas @chucklefak @serving-targaryen-realness @chaoticallywriting @moonfllowerr @rafeism @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @herfantasyworldd @mangosmootji @sunnysideaeggs

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

They say it’s the most dangerous job in Vietnam. That’s why I wanted to do it.

Chinooks transport men and equipment, Cobras are gunships, Jolly Green Giants are used in search-and-rescue missions. But the Loach—Light Observation Helicopter—is a scout. We have to fly low enough to spot fresh footprints in mud, glints of sunlit metal, blooms of firelight from smoldering cigarettes in the primordial maze of the jungle. And when you go looking for the enemy, sometimes that’s exactly who you find. U.S. Army regulations decree that each Loach must be inspected after 300 hours of flight time, but they rarely make it that long. I’ve been shot down twice already. You roll out of the wreckage, grab your buddies, and book it out of the area before the Vietcong kill you, or worse: drag you back to the Hanoi Hilton so you can die slow.

Currently we’re just north of Pleiku, coasting close enough to the treetops that I could reach out and touch them. I’m in the back seat with my M16, no door between me and the outside world, my hair tied back with a green bandana, the wind hot and sticky. It’s so fucking humid here. Why can’t the communists be trying to take over Malta or Sweden or Monterey Bay, California?

It was the old men who suggested I might be of greatest service to the family by enlisting. I was 25, newly graduated from Columbia Law—a family tradition—and dreading the desk job that awaited me at the Department of Justice. Some people are born to type their lives away in some leather-upholstered office with a view of Pennsylvania Avenue, but not me, and I know this like I know the sun or the stars, ancient truths that can never be changed. And so when Otto and Viserys sat me down—my father had only had one stroke by that point, and was still relatively involved in the day-to-day minutia of putting a Targaryen in the White House—and said Aemond having a brother in Vietnam would make him more relatable, more sympathetic, more noble, not an observer to the carnage of the war but a fellow victim of it…I told them I’d go.

Everyone needs a project. If you don’t have something to distract you from the futility of human existence, it’ll break you in half. I have the Loach. Otto and Viserys, both immigrants ineligible to serve as president of the United States, have their shared ambition of getting their bloodlines in the Oval Office. Aemond has his legacy. My mother has her children, and Criston has my mother. Helaena has her gardens, her bugs, quiet gentle things that she tends with her own thorn-pricked hands. Aegon doesn’t have a project, he never really has, and it’s driven him to the cliff’s edge of insanity. See what I mean?

Anyway, let me tell you something about Vietnam. The Army gives us all the steak, beer, and cigarettes we can handle, but I’d kill for a lemon-lime Mr. Misty—

“Daeron, get down!” the guy to my left screams over the noise of the rotors. His name is Richie Swindell, and he’s from Omaha, Nebraska, and now he’s plummeting out of the helicopter as bullets riddle his chest. I duck low and cover my head as we spiral sideways into the trees, snapping branches, shredding leaves like confetti. I can hear the pilot yelling something, but I can’t tell what. When we hit the earth, the lightweight aluminum skin of the Loach does exactly what it’s supposed to, crumpling to absorb the shock of the collision and reduce trauma to us mortals inside. I scramble out of the rubble on my hands and knees and go to check on the pilot, but it’s too late. He’s already being hauled out by the Vietcong and gets a bullet to the brain. I reach back into the ruins of the Loach to grab my M16, but there are hands around my ankles yanking me out. And now I’m next, and there’s nowhere left to run, and I’m hoping Criston will be there to hold my mother when she gets the Western Union telegram.

One of the soldiers shouts and stops the others, shoving them aside to get a better look at me. With the barrel of his AK-47, supplied by either China or the Russians, he prods at the patch displaying my last name: Targaryen. His compatriots don’t seem impressed. Again, he batters my nametag, speaking to them in Vietnamese.

He knows who I am, I realize. He knows Aemond is running for president.

Now there is a hell of a lot of excitement. The men are talking rapidly amongst themselves, marveling at me, poking and examining me. Then two of them grab me by the arms. I look to the soldier who knows English, at least enough of it to read those nine fated letters. He smiles at me, not like a friend. Like a wolf baring its teeth.

He says: “It is okay, Targaryen boy. We just have some questions for you.”

Guess I’ll be checking into the Hanoi Hilton after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up to Aegon strumming an acoustic guitar and singing Johnny Cash. The guitar must be new. The one he left at Asteria is plain maple wood and covered in stickers; this unfamiliar instrument is a vivid, Caribbean blue and has Gibson written across the headstock.

“I hear the train a-comin’, it’s rolling ‘round the bend

And I ain’t seen the sunshine since I don’t know when

I’m stuck in Folsom Prison, and time keeps draggin’ on…”

“Let me die. I’m ready to go.”

Aegon laughs, setting his new guitar aside.

“Is Ari okay?”

“Yeah, he’s doing great. And I got the stuff you asked for.”

Sure enough, there are three roomy sundresses hanging from the coatrack—you wanted to have options in case you had trouble finding one that fit correctly, though you gave Aegon a general neighborhood for sizes—as well as an array of cosmetics on the nightstand, including a bottle of shimmering champagne-colored nail polish. “I’m really impressed. You barely forgot anything. Though I will look odd with blush but no foundation.”

“Ohhhhh. Fuck.”

“And this isn’t human shampoo. It’s for dogs. That’s why it has a mastiff on the label.”

“I thought it looked like you,” Aegon says, smirking mischievously.

“Well, thanks for trying.”

“And I found this at the gift shop.” He tosses a card at you like a frisbee. You open the envelope to see a cartoon cow on the front, black and white and wearing a huge copper bell and a party hat. Inside is printed: May your graduation be legenDAIRY! Aegon has crossed it out and written instead I thought this was blank…congrats on the new calf! followed by his illegible scribble of a signature.

“A cow,” you say, smiling despite yourself. “Because I’m Io.”

“You’ve got about a million of those pouring in from all over the country. Congratulations cards, get well soon cards, we really hope your husband gets elected so we aren’t consumed by nuclear Armageddon cards. And then Richard Nixon sent a pipe bomb.”

You set Aegon’s card on your nightstand, half-open so it will stay standing upright. Then you drink the apple juice from the tray the nurses left for you. “Aemond’s not here yet?”

“Uh, no, not yet,” Aegon says vaguely, kicking his feet up on the ottoman. He’s been shopping for himself too. He’s wearing a denim jacket over a black The Kinks t-shirt, ripped jeans, moccasins. He uses the remote to turn on the television: The Dating Game. “So, what did you study in college? You went to Manhattanville, right?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “You really don’t listen when I talk, do you?”

“I try not to.”

“Yes, I went to Manhattanville. And I studied math.”

“No way. You didn’t major in math.”

“Women can’t do math?” you tease. “That’s sexist.”

“I didn’t say women can’t do math. I’m saying there’s no way your parents sent you to a housewife factory like Manhattanville College of the Sacred Heart to get a math degree.”

“They didn’t, which is why my bachelor’s is in math education. So half-math, half-kid stuff. Makes it a little more…domestic.”

“Cool. Teach me math.”

“What, really?”

“Yeah. Really.” He digs around in the pockets of his jeans until he finds a receipt, then locates a pen in the nightstand drawer. He hands both to you and then stands so he can watch over your shoulder as you work. You can smell him: cigarette smoke, rum, the cool grey rain that is falling outside. It drips off his hair, carelessly slicked back from his face.

“What’s something you don’t know how to do?” you ask, expecting to get an answer like exponents or calculating the volume of a pyramid.

“Uh. Long division.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Going all the way back to 4th grade. Alright then.” You begin writing. “So let’s take a large number—this year, 1968—and divide it by…hm…how many kids you have. So five.”

Aegon whistles. “Five kids. Goddamn.”

“Yes, and you probably couldn’t name them, but there are indeed five. Trust me, I’ve counted.”

“Okay, this is the part I don’t get. Five goes into 19 almost four times. But there’s no way to say almost four.”

“There certainly is not. Five goes into 19 three times, so we put a three up top and then subtract 15 from 19. We get four, drop down the six from 1968, and now we’re dividing 46 by five.”

“Nine.”

“Right. Five times nine is 45. So the nine goes up top and we subtract 45 from 46.”

“45 is basically 46. Let’s call it a day. Close enough.”

“No,” you insist. “We get one, then drop down the eight from 1968, which makes 18.”

“And five goes into 18 three times.”

“Where’s the three go?”

“Up top,” Aegon says, observing fixedly.

“And then we subtract…”

“15 from 18, which is three. So the answer is 393.3.”

“Wrong. Loser.”

“What! How am I wrong?!”

“You don’t just put the three after the decimal,” you say. “You drop down a zero—”

“A zero?! Where the fuck did a zero come from?”

“From the fact that 1968 is a whole number, so it’s actually 1968.0.”

“Oh.” Aegon blinks a few times. “Gotcha.”

“Add the zero after the three to get 30—”

“And 30 divided by five is six. So the answer is 393.6.”

“I am so proud. You are officially as smart as an average nine-year-old.”

He takes the receipt from you and studies it. “This was super enlightening.”

“You want to try calculus now?”

He cackles and sinks back into his plush salmon pink armchair, his miniature dominion in your hospital room kingdom. “You like teaching?”

“I love it,” you admit. “I had to do a semester of student teaching the spring before I graduated, and at first I was kind of petrified. But the kids are so hilarious and interesting and full of excitement about everything, and they’re sweet in totally unexpected ways. They’d chatter all through a lesson and make me want to jump out a five-story window, and then bring me some of their Easter candy. That’s when I realized they weren’t trying to torture me. They’re just kids.”

Aegon is meditative. “Yeah, kids are fun.”

“I wasn’t aware you had much interest in them.”

“No, I do.” And something about the way he says it makes you feel bad for taking the shot. He runs his fingers through his hair, perhaps debating how much he wants to share. “You know Viserys made us all do these little missions after college so we could learn about the real world, right?”

“Right.” Daeron spent his on lobster boats up in Maine, Helaena learned horticulture in France, Aemond helped register voters in Mississippi and Alabama. You can’t recall ever hearing about Aegon’s.

“I got sent to Yuma, Arizona to teach on the reservation there. When I stepped off the bus, I thought it was hell on earth. And then when my time was up I didn’t want to leave.”

“What did you teach?” And then you add: “Hopefully not math.”

“No, definitely not math,” he says, smiling but distant, remembering. “English. Books, poems, all that. But my favorite thing to do was take a song and break it down line by line, really get them curious about what the author was thinking. And then of course we’d all sing it together. I’d play guitar, they’d run around jumping on the furniture, it was a good time.”

“But you couldn’t stay.”

“No,” he sighs. “I had to come back here so I could get dragged kicking and screaming through law school and then married off.”

“And elected mayor of Trenton,” you say, trying to make him laugh. It works.

“Oh God, we are not talking about that. Most miserable two years of my life.”

“So far.”

“Yeah. If Aemond wins and makes me the attorney general, that might be worse.”

“Knock knock!” comes a cheerful trill from the doorway, and then Alicent and Mimi rush in. They descend upon your hospital bed, cooing and soothing, squeezing your hands and trying to smooth your untamed hair.

“What did it feel like?” Mimi is morbidly fascinated, swaying a little, eyes bleary with gin. “When they were digging around in there?”

“Well, obviously she was sedated, hon,” Aegon says, a bit impatiently. He and Mimi share a nod in greeting, no warmth, no depth. You wonder what it must be like for someone you spent so much time tangled up with to become a stranger.

“Oh, darling, I barely recognize you!” Alicent says. “You poor thing, you must be in such awful pain. I’ve never seen you like this before. Your face, your hair…”

Aegon gives her a quick, disapproving look and then lights a cigarette of the traditional variety. He puffs on it as he gazes at the window, like he’s counting the raindrops on the glass.

“I’m feeling a lot better now,” you assure Alicent.

Her eyes flick down to your belly, still swollen beneath your blankets. “Will it scar terribly, do you think?”

You shrug; you haven’t thought much about that part yet. “It’s a battle scar. Aemond gets them in the real world, I get them in here. Same war, different arenas.” You peek out into the hallway. “Is Aemond…is he with you…?”

“He wanted to be,” Alicent says, like it’s a consolation. “But, Washington, you know…the primary there is so close. So, so close. He kept saying that he and Humphrey were neck and neck, and they still are, I believe. Every vote counts, and he’s campaigning all over the Puget Sound.”

“He’s still in Washington?” Your voice is flat with disbelief, with disapproval.

“He wishes he could be here with you and the baby,” Alicent insists, stroking your hair. “I’m sure he’ll fly back as soon as he’s able. But he’s thinking of you so, so much. That’s why he let me and Mimi leave this morning.”

“Right,” you reply numbly. And then you remember what you’re supposed to say. “The election is important. It affects everyone, our son included. For the greater good, personal sacrifices are necessary.”

“We saw him,” Alicent tells you, radiant with joy. “Aristos Apollo.”

“So precious,” Mimi says. “But so small! And trapped in that hideous machine! We could only see him through those little round windows.”

Aegon casts her a violent glare. You are alarmed. “He’s not in an incubator?”

“They have him in a…what was it called, Mimi?” Alicent asks. Mimi has nothing useful to contribute. “A hyperbaric chamber, I think. To help him get more oxygen.”

“But he’s fine,” Aegon says firmly, giving his wife and mother a warning. “Didn’t the doctor say it was a precaution?”

“He did, he did,” Alicent promises you. “Yes, just a precaution, that’s what we were told. The doctor has been trying to reach Aemond, apparently, but since he landed in Washington, he’s never in one place for long…”

“We should buy gifts for the baby,” Mimi says excitedly. “Adorable hats and shirts and trousers. Although even the tiniest clothes might be too big for him right now.”

“Yes, gifts! We must shop for gifts. Oh, it’s all been such a whirlwind. We hurried off the plane to come straight here, love,” Alicent tells you. “Can Mimi and I get you something for dinner?”

“Sure, sure.” You are distracted, still thinking of Ari. “Anything is fine. Wherever you end up.”

“Would you like me to bring a priest to pray with you? Saint Nicholas Church is right around the corner.”

You smile. “That’s very kind, but I think I’d prefer some books.”

“Baby clothes, dinner, and books. We can do that. Can’t we, Mimi?”

“We absolutely can,” Mimi agrees with tipsy, girlish enthusiasm.

As an afterthought, Alicent says: “Aegon, have you been here all this time? You must be exhausted. We’re going to book a suite at the Plaza, there will be plenty of room for you too. We can drop you off there on our way to go shopping, if you’d like.”

“I’ll stay,” he says softly, watching the rain again.

Alicent’s brow furrows; her dark doe-like eyes are puzzled. “Alright, dear.” Then she and Mimi disappear into the hall.

“Is he really okay?” you ask Aegon when they’re gone.

“Yes. That’s exactly what the doctor told me, just a precaution. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Aegon,” you say, and don’t continue until he meets your eyes. “Why are you still here?”

He lights a fresh cigarette. “I don’t think you should be alone.”

“I’m not alone anymore. Alicent visits me, Mimi visits me.”

“Yeah, but you feel like you have to put on a show for them. Play the perfect Targaryen wife with all that stoic, dignified, unshakable faith. You hate me, so there isn’t as much pressure.”

“I don’t hate you, Aegon.”

“Yes you do. You always have. You don’t have to be polite about it.”

“Well…I have valid reasons to hate you.”

He smiles, exhaling smoke. “Right.”

“And you hate me too.”

Now he shrugs, avoiding your gaze. “Everybody worships you, everybody thinks I’m a waste of chromosomes, is it really that hard to psychoanalyze?”

“No one worships me. They worship Aemond.”

“But you’re a package deal. Jack and Jackie, Franklin and Eleanor.”

You trace the lines in your palm with a fingertip, not knowing what to say. You’re so close to Aemond, so inseparable, and yet so vastly far. “Will you wheel me downstairs to see Ari after dinner?” It’s best to go at night when there are less staff around to try to stop you.

“Sure. You want a Mr. Misty?”

“Yeah. Lemon-lime.” That’s what he brought you last time, and it wasn’t bad for a cardboard cup of florescent green sugar water.

“Got it,” Aegon says, and leaves you alone.

You look at the phone on your nightstand. You’ve tried to call Aemond to no avail, though you spoke to Criston twice; on both occasions he said Aemond was in the middle of an interview. It’s understandable that you would have difficulty getting ahold of your husband while he’s off campaigning, leaping from town to town like an electric current. There’s nothing unusual about it at all. But Aemond could call you anytime he likes. You haven’t moved; he knows exactly where you are.

You keep staring at the phone. It doesn’t ring.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s night again, and you swim up from morphine-soft dreams into your hospital room, dark except for the flashing color of the television, low volume, NBC news. Aegon is curled up in the chair he’s claimed, snoring and half-covered with a cheap, pale blue hospital blanket. And it’s a strange feeling—a foreign language, a new religion—to realize that you’re relieved to see he’s still here, that there’s a comfort in it, a safety.

Suddenly, Aemond is on the television screen. You sit up in bed as gingerly as you can, leaning in, listening close. He’s rarely looked better: blue suit, prosthetic eye, rested and measured and sharp. He’s giving a speech at the Hotel Sorrento in Seattle, three hours behind the time you’re living in on the East Coast. Flanking him on the stage are Criston, Otto, Helaena, Fosco, the eight charming children. Five-year-old Cosmo keeps waving at the camera.

“Right now, my wife and newborn son are at Mount Sinai Hospital in New York City,” Aemond says, beaming, and the audience whistles and cheers. You should smile, but you can’t. He’s not supposed to be there. He’s supposed to be on his way home. “But tonight I’m here with all of you, fighting with everything I’m made of to win the great state of Washington. And I won’t leave until the job is done, because I know the greatest act of devotion that any of us can show our children is to ensure they grow up in a better America than the one we find ourselves in today…”

You look over at Aegon and see that his glassy eyes are open, watching the television just like you are. You don’t know how long he’s been awake. The two of you exchange a glance, and there is a silent, shared recognition of what won’t be said. You can’t criticize your husband. Aegon isn’t going to kick you while you’re down. You are grateful for this. It is a conviction he has only recently acquired.

Aegon pulls his blanket up to his chin and rolls over, turning away from you. You close your eyes and dream of being a child back in Tarpon Springs, mesmerized as you watch Greek sponge divers emerge from the bubbling depths in their suits of rubber armor.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s the afternoon of the 13th. The Washington State Democratic Convention is being held tonight, and so win or lose Aemond will be walking into Mount Sinai Hospital tomorrow. He has to, he doesn��t have a choice. He’ll have no excuse to be anywhere else, and journalists will be swarming at the entranceway like bull sharks in the Gulf of Mexico.

It’s raining again. You’re reading one of the books that Alicent brought you, Dr. Spock’s Baby and Child Care. You had been meaning to get a copy before you were consumed by Aemond’s campaign and then his near-assassination, his maiming, his fleeting brush with oblivion. Aegon is cross-legged in the salmon pink armchair and plucking lazily at his guitar, singing so low no one outside the room would be able to hear him. It’s a Rolling Stones song, slow and mournful.

“You don’t know what’s going on

You’ve been away for far too long

You can’t come back and think you are still mine.”

As you flip a page and raindrops patter gently against the window, you find yourself thinking how easy this is, your hair undone and your feet bare, no photos to take or lines to remember, no practiced smiles, no overwrought itineraries, only compassion that is quiet and small and real.

“Well, baby, baby, baby, you’re out of time

I said, baby, baby, baby, you’re out of time…”

Aegon abruptly stops playing, cutting off with a twang. You look up at him. He’s gazing back with eyes that are filling up his face, glistening with horror. You turn to find out what he’s seen. There’s a doctor standing in the doorway, but he’s not alone. There’s a Greek Orthodox priest with him.

“Mrs. Targaryen,” the doctor begins, then glances to the priest. The holy man—black robes, gold chains, clasping a komboskini like the one Aemond keeps in a box on his writing desk at Asteria, stained with his own blood—gives an encouraging nod. “We’ve tried to reach your husband. We’ve called his hotel in Tacoma several times, but the senator must be out campaigning, and…” Again, he looks to the priest. Aegon is setting his guitar on the floor, covering his mouth with his hands.

Ari. Too early, too fragile, too defenseless in a world full of wolves.

Your words come out in a whisper. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

“We must remember, child,” the priest tells you, vague patronizing pity. “That the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, but what is lost to us in this life is never truly gone. Those we love wait for us on the other side in paradise—”

“Please leave. I don’t want to talk to a priest. I don’t want to talk to anyone.”

I just gave birth to him. I just started to believe he was mine.

The doctor begins: “Ma’am, I’m so sorry to have to deliver this news—”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone, I want to be alone. So please leave,” you beg, your voice breaking. “I want to be alone. Please leave me alone.”

The doctor looks to Aegon. A man’s permission is sought. “Go,” Aegon manages, raspy and strangled, and the doctor obeys.

“God bless you and your husband, Mrs. Targaryen,” the priest says as he departs with a swift bow. You can’t reply. You’re biting back sobs as the tears begin to slither down your cheeks, scalding and furious, not just grief but the bottomless rage of Nemesis.

Aegon is watching you, not knowing what to do, not knowing what you need.

Aemond would want you to be stoic. Aemond would want you to have faith, forbearance, grace. “It is God’s will.”

“Hey.” Aegon reaches across the space between you, grabs your hand, holds it so tightly your bones ache. Still, you wouldn’t want him to let go. “You’re allowed to be fucked up about this. I am too.”

When your eyes drift to him, they are glaring and heartsick and poisonous. “Where’s Aemond?” Why isn’t he here?

Aegon sighs deeply and picks up the phone with his free hand. He spins the rotary dial with his index finger and then holds the handset to his ear. He waits as it rings. “Pantages Theater, Tacoma, Washington,” he tells the operator. A minute or more crawls by. “I need to speak to Senator Targaryen immediately. Yes, I know there’s a convention underway there, that’s why I’m calling you. Go get him.” More minutes, eternal, terrible beyond description. “What do you mean you can’t find him?!” Aegon snaps. “Okay, give me someone else. Anyone travelling with him. Criston Cole, Fosco Viviani, Otto Hightower, Helaena Targaryen. Hurry up. Let’s go.”

Outside the rain grows heavy and loud; it falls in sheets against the misty windows. In the distance, thunder growls.

“Hi, Criston, it’s me. He needs to come home now. Right now.”

Aegon closes his eyes. Criston must be arguing with him.

“No, you don’t understand,” Aegon says, forcing the words to leave his lips and ride the wires to the West Coast, to where the sun sets, to where the future is dawning. He’s still holding your hand. “Aemond doesn’t have a son anymore.”

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x you #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon targaryen ii x you #aegon targaryen x you

221 notes · View notes