#and just. wow. this guy rules | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leriexoxo · 24 days ago

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Wrong Place, Right Time

Bff! Hyunjin x Fem reader

Tags: friends to lovers, angst, smut, possessive best friend, sexual awakening, forbidden tension, oral (f, m receiving), praise kink, dom!hyunjin, corruption kink, emotional sex, jealousy, complicated love, voyeurism.

Word Count: 8.8k

Summary: You’ve known Hyunjin your whole life—tall, infuriating, and stupidly beautiful. He’s your best friend, your biggest headache, and the reason no guy ever stuck around. Because Hyunjin is everywhere. Too involved. Too protective. Too everything. And yet… never yours. He’s a player. A heartbreaker. The kind of guy who gets head at his own house parties while you crash on the couch downstairs. He doesn’t see you like that. Not you. You’ve always been the safe one. The exception.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

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Hyunjin had always said you didn’t belong at his parties.

He said it with a grin, every single time—one hand ruffling your hair, the other probably still smelling like some girl’s perfume. “You? No way. Too soft. You’d cry by midnight.”

You’d roll your eyes, toss a pillow at his stupidly perfect face, and mutter something like “Don’t flatter yourself” even though you both knew he always would.

You’d been best friends since before he got hot. Before the cheekbones sharpened and the jawline could cut glass. Before girls started whispering in class and giggling when he walked by. And definitely before Hyunjin turned into the kind of guy who could get away with murder as long as he looked good doing it.

Your friendship had survived everything—school, distance, jealousy, college. But it came with rules. Unspoken ones.

Rule one: Hyunjin could sleep with whoever he wanted, and you couldn’t say anything.

Rule two: You could date, theoretically—but not really. No guy ever stuck around long enough to matter.

Rule three: You didn’t ask about what happened at his parties, and he never let you come.

It worked. Sort of.

—

You were on his bed. Technically. You were half-sprawled on his floor, legs tangled in a blanket, your laptop propped against his dresser while Hyunjin sat cross-legged above you, lazily scrolling through TikToks with the volume off.

“Are you even watching this?” you asked, glancing up at him.

He looked down at you, hair a mess from where he’d flopped back earlier, shirt hanging off one shoulder like he couldn’t be bothered to exist properly.

“Nope,” he said.

“Then stop judging my taste.”

“I’m not judging,” he said. “I’m just silently suffering.”

You threw a rolled-up sock at his face. He caught it without looking. Showoff.

“Anyway,” you said, trying to focus, “I was thinking I could come stay over this weekend, so I’m thinking Friday night. Unless you’ve got some raging orgy planned.”

Hyunjin snorted. “You make it sound so scandalous.”

“Don’t you throw parties every Friday?”

“I throw gatherings.”

“With a body count.”

He didn’t even pretend to look ashamed. Just shrugged and leaned back on his elbows, stomach peeking through his shirt where it rode up.

You looked away. Not because you were embarrassed—just… used to it. That was the thing about Hyunjin. He was beautiful in a way you were supposed to stop noticing if you were around him long enough. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

“You’re not invited,” he said casually.

“Wow.”

“It’s not an insult,” he added quickly. “You just… wouldn’t like it. It gets intense.”

“I’m not a child, Hyunjin.”

He gave you a look that said he begged to differ.

“No offense, but the last time we went to a club, you ended up crying in the corner because some guy slapped your ass.”

“That was a valid response.”

“Sure.” He grinned. “Just proving my point.”

You glared at him, but there wasn’t much heat behind it. It was always like this with you two—him being overbearing, you pretending not to care. A push and pull that never went anywhere.

Except lately… it felt like it was going somewhere. Somewhere new. Somewhere you weren’t sure you wanted to go.

Like last week, when he came over after hooking up with someone new. He never told you names—just vague details and smirks—but that night he was weirdly quiet. He sat next to you on the couch, warm and flushed, smelling like sex and vanilla.

You’d tried not to notice. Tried not to care that his hair was still damp from the shower he’d taken before coming over.

You told yourself he was just Hyunjin. And you were just you. The best friend. The safe one.

That night, when you got back to your dorm, you couldn’t stop thinking about his mouth. Not because you wanted it—just… curiosity. It had looked swollen. Like someone had kissed him hard. Bitten him.

You’d closed your laptop, turned off the light, and lay there in the dark, wondering what it would feel like to be wanted like that. Even just once.

Not by him, of course. Just… in general.

—

That day on campus, you didn’t mean to get annoyed with him.

It was just a look. One single look across the quad, Hyunjin sprawled on the grass next to some girl whose laugh carried all the way across campus. She had her hand on his chest and her legs crossed just a little too tight, and he wasn’t even trying to be subtle. He was leaning into it, eyes half-lidded, lips tilted in that lazy, infuriating smirk that you’d seen way too many girls fall for.

He caught your eye just as you passed. And he winked.

Not a cute wink either. A you know exactly what I’m about to do to her wink. You hated that you understood it. Hated that it made your stomach twist the way it did. You weren’t jealous. You weren’t.

You just… wanted him to stop looking at you like you were still twelve years old and needed babysitting every time you wore lipstick.

So that night when he texted you as usual, you didn’t text him back.

You were brushing your teeth the next morning when he let himself into your dorm.

“I brought you coffee,” he announced like some kind of peace offering.

You rinsed, spat, and didn’t bother looking at him. “Why?”

He frowned. “Because you didn’t answer last night.”

You shrugged, too tired to fake cheer. “I was busy.”

He raised an eyebrow. “With what? You weren’t at the library. I checked.”

“You checked?”

“Yeah, I was in the area.”

You turned to face him, arms crossed. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“What?”

“Showing up. Keeping tabs. Acting like you own me.”

Hyunjin looked genuinely caught off guard. “I don’t—what are you talking about?”

“I’m not a kid, Hyunjin.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” you snapped. “Because sometimes it feels like you only see me as Minho’s little sister. Or that friend you have to protect. And maybe I’m just tired of that.”

He was quiet for a second, fingers tightening slightly around the coffee cup.

“You don’t want me to look out for you anymore?”

“No,” you said, voice quieter. “I just want to make my own choices. Even if they’re messy.”

He took a step closer, voice low now too. “Some messes aren’t worth it.”

You hated how your heart skipped at that. How close he was. How serious he looked.

“Maybe,” you said, trying to sound braver than you felt. “But maybe it’s not your call to make.”

⸻

By Thursday, you’d made your decision.

You were going to his party.

He hadn’t invited you—of course he hadn’t—but you’d heard it through your mutuals. Same time, same house, same rules: first floor for fun, second floor off-limits unless you were invited.

You weren’t stupid. You knew what happened upstairs.

You weren’t going to go up there. You weren’t going to look for him. You were just going to be there. Exist in his world for once without asking permission.

So you got dressed in something a little riskier than usual—tight black jeans, a halter top that made you feel powerful, mascara that made your lashes look dangerous. You even curled your hair. When you looked in the mirror, you didn’t see his best friend.

You saw a girl he didn’t know how to look at yet.

The house was packed when you arrived.

Music throbbed through the floorboards, bass shaking your bones as you pushed through the crowd. Bodies swayed, drinks sloshed, someone bumped into you hard and muttered an apology. You smiled, told yourself this was what freedom felt like.

You kept your head high as you walked through the haze of perfume and weed and laughter. Eyes followed you. Some familiar, some not. You ignored them.

You didn’t see Hyunjin at first. Just his world. The girls in too-short dresses clinging to the staircase banister, the guys on the couch shouting at a drinking game. You wondered which of them he’d kissed already. Which ones he would kiss tonight.

You were halfway through your second drink when you finally saw him—on the far side of the room, lounging back in a chair like a king at his own damn court. His legs spread, arm draped over the back of the couch, surrounded by people but still so obviously bored.

Until he saw you.

His eyes widened, then narrowed. You couldn’t hear him over the music, but his mouth formed your name.

You gave him a smile. Sweet. Defiant. And then you turned away.

He found you fifteen minutes later near the kitchen.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, voice tight, one hand curling around your arm.

“Enjoying myself,” you replied coolly.

“I told you not to come.”

“No, you said I wasn’t invited. That’s different.”

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

You met his gaze, unflinching. “Maybe I don’t care.”

Something flickered in his eyes. Anger, maybe. Or something deeper. You couldn’t tell. You didn’t care.

“Go home,” he said quietly. Too quiet.

“No.”

“Why are you being like this?”

You leaned in, lips almost brushing his ear. “Why are you always trying to stop me from living?”

You pulled back, held his gaze for one long moment, then disappeared back into the crowd before he could stop you.

You didn’t see him again after that.

Not downstairs.

Not until much later. But then, you hadn’t meant to go upstairs.

The second floor was off-limits during parties, just like he always said—laced with invisible caution tape, a no-man’s land reserved for secrets and shadows and things you weren’t supposed to know about. But maybe it was the alcohol making you bold. Maybe it was pride. Or maybe it was something darker. Something bitter blooming in your chest since the moment Hyunjin pulled you aside and told you to leave.

You hadn’t left.

And now you were here—bare feet whispering over the hardwood, hand trailing lightly along the banister as the sounds of the party dulled below. The upstairs hallway smelled different. Not like beer and cologne, but something warmer. Skin. Sweat. A hint of vanilla, musk, and something faintly feminine—lip gloss and moans pressed into pillows.

The light from the bathroom spilled into the hallway.

You turned toward it—and then the world shifted.

Hyunjin stood there.

Leaning back against the bathroom wall, one hand planted flat beside him, the other tangled in the hair of the girl on her knees.

You froze mid-step.

Your breath caught and stayed there, suspended in your throat like it refused to move past what your eyes were seeing.

His head was tilted down, gaze heavy-lidded, mouth parted just enough to make you think he’d been groaning a second ago. His chest rose and fell slowly, like he’d been at this for a while—and was far from done.

The girl knelt between his legs, shoulders squared, hands resting against his thighs for balance as she bobbed steadily, deliberately.

Your eyes dropped—without permission, without thought—and the breath you’d been holding turned to ash in your lungs.

Oh my god.

Hyunjin’s dick—long, thick, flushed dark and wet near the head—was disappearing into her throat like she’d done it before. Like she knew exactly how to take it, how to breathe through her nose and relax her jaw, how to slide down slow and deep until her chin met his pelvis.

You felt heat rush to your cheeks, your ears, your fingertips—like your whole body was blushing. Embarrassment, shock, something else entirely. You couldn’t look away. Your brain told you to. Your legs twitched like they were trying to backpedal. But your eyes stayed locked.

He looked up. Caught you. And didn’t stop.

No—he smirked.

It was slow. Sinful. Eyes half-lidded, arrogant and lazy, like he’d expected you to show up. Like this was a show and you were the audience of one.

His grip tightened in her hair, and she let out a choked whimper around him that made his cock twitch—you saw it. Felt it in your spine like it had happened to you. Then he pushed her down harder, deeper, until her lips met his base again and her throat made a sound that was part gag, part desperate moan.

He was so hard.

The lighting from the hallway caught on the flushed veins of his shaft as it reappeared with every pull back, wet and gleaming, before vanishing again inside her. It was hypnotic—the slow, slick drag of him sliding in and out of her mouth, her spit stringing between his skin and her lips every time he pulled out too far.

Your thighs pressed together. Automatically. Shamefully. There was no conscious thought behind it—just a tight, startled squeeze like your body had short-circuited under the weight of something sharp and unspoken.

He knew what he was doing. Knew you were there.

And that’s what ruined you.

It wasn’t just the act. It wasn’t the dick. It wasn’t even the girl, who was so gone on him she hadn’t noticed you yet. It was the look in his eyes. Like he was using you—your shock, your presence—to push himself deeper into pleasure. Like your gaze turned him on.

His smirk curled darker.

He didn’t blink.

Didn’t flinch.

Didn’t stop.

And for one dizzy, breathless second, you thought he might even come like this—with you watching.

You stumbled back, breath hitching as your shoulder hit the hallway wall. The jolt snapped something inside you. Like surfacing from a dream.

You turned around fast and fled, nearly tripping over yourself as the sound of her mouth followed you—slick and obscene and real.

You didn’t stop until you were back downstairs, heart pounding, hands trembling, the crowd a blur of noise and color you couldn’t hear over the blood in your ears.

You needed air.

You needed answers.

But more than anything—You needed to understand what the fuck just happened to you.

He came after you.

You didn’t see him. But he did.

Just as you shoved through the front door of the house, your heart in your throat and the image of his dick still seared behind your eyes, Hyunjin’s hand released from her hair. He blinked—once, twice—like waking from a trance, like suddenly the oxygen had returned to the room and he remembered who was watching. What he’d just done.

He pushed the girl off him with a muttered curse, barely registering her dazed protest, and stumbled into the hallway, half-zipped, eyes scanning wildly for you.

He was too late.

You were already peeling out of the driveway.

He barely caught the flash of your taillights vanishing into the dark, headlights bouncing over gravel as your car sped down the road. No chance to call out. No way to stop you.

You were gone.

⸻

Your hands clenched the steering wheel so tight your knuckles turned white. The streets blurred past your windows in long, lonely streaks of light. You weren’t thinking about how fast you were going. Or whether it was safe. Or even why your throat was tight with something you couldn’t name.

You were thinking about him.

That fucking look in his eyes.

The way he stared straight through you while that girl sucked him off like she was born for it. The way his hips shifted forward ever so slightly, deeper, like he liked knowing you were watching. Like you being there was part of it.

The worst part?

It worked.

Your thighs hadn’t stopped clenching since.

You went straight to your dorm, threw the keys onto your desk with a clatter, and shut the door behind you like you were sealing something in. You weren’t even sure you’d locked it.

You leaned back against it, breathing hard.

Eyes wide. Mouth dry.

And wet between the legs in a way that felt wrong.

You sank to the floor without meaning to, knees folding under you like they couldn’t hold up your shame.

What was wrong with you?

You’d seen Hyunjin with girls before. Had heard the stories. Had walked in on his hookups before—once in his car, once in the hallway at some shitty house party where a girl’s lipstick smeared across his neck like war paint. You always rolled your eyes. Always scoffed.

You never felt this.

Never felt that cold flash of shock, followed by the heat creeping up your neck, then down, coiling in your stomach like hunger.

Because tonight… you saw everything.

His dick.

His face.

The way he controlled her—used her—and the way she let him. Willingly. Eagerly.

The sounds. The slick, wet rhythm. The twitch of his abs. The sharp jut of his hips. Her throat flexing to take him.

And his fucking smirk.

Like it wasn’t a blowjob. Like it was a performance. Like he was testing you.

You pressed your palms to your burning cheeks.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to rewind the night and punch him in the face.

You wanted to— Your hips shifted without you realizing. A slow, involuntary grind against the heel of your foot.

Your breath caught.

No. No, no, no, no.

But your body didn’t listen.

Your thighs squeezed, chasing the ghost of friction. Your stomach fluttered with shame and heat and the kind of arousal that came from places you’d never touched before—not like this. Not about him.

Not about your best friend.

Not about Hyunjin.

You pushed up from the floor with a groan, trying to shake it off. Walk it out. Breathe.

You stumbled to the mirror above your desk and froze.

Your reflection looked wrecked.

Eyes glassy. Lips parted. Hair wild from the wind and your trembling hands. You looked like someone who’d been touched—even though no one had laid a hand on you all night.

No one except your own thoughts.

And his eyes.

You hated him.

You hated that you didn’t.

You hated how your body was still humming from the sight of him.

You hated how wet you felt under your jeans.

And most of all, you hated how you knew—deep in the pit of your stomach—that something inside you had changed.

This wasn’t something you could forget.

You’d seen Hyunjin before.

But tonight… He’d let you see him.

And now there was no going back.

—

You ignored his texts.

Left the first two unread. Opened the third and fourth without responding. Then stopped opening them altogether.

He called you that night—twice.

You stared at his name lighting up your screen like it might burn through your retinas. You didn’t pick up. Couldn’t. Just lay in your bed, curled on your side with your phone face-down and your mind running in exhausting, endless circles.

You told yourself it was fine.

It was one mistake.

You’d both move on.

But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

And neither did he.

The next morning, you got up early on purpose.

You knew your routine would be off. It didn’t matter. Anything to avoid seeing him on campus, or worse—having him catch you off guard and look at you again the way he had the night before.

Not during. After.

Not like Hyunjin.

Like someone else. Someone who saw you differently now. Who made you see him differently too.

You dodged the usual lunch spot, skipped your shared class by faking a stomach ache, ignored the texts that were now showing frustration between the lines.

Hyunjin [9:43 AM]

You okay?

Hyunjin [11:02 AM]

Seriously, are you mad? Just fucking talk to me.

Hyunjin [1:14 PM]

Don’t do this. Please.

You hated him for making you feel like this.

But more than that—you hated yourself for how much you kept replaying it. Over and over, like some sick loop.

You avoided him all week.

By Friday, you thought maybe—maybe—he’d give up.

Until the knock came.

It was hard and sharp—three impatient raps at your dorm door like he was ready to break it down if you didn’t answer.

You froze mid-bite of your cereal, spoon dangling in the air.

Knock knock knock.

Your chest tightened.

You didn’t even have to look through the peephole. You knew that knock. The same rhythm he used every time he showed up uninvited, unannounced, acting like he owned your space—because for years, he kind of did.

Knock. Knock.

Then, “Open the door.”

Your pulse stuttered.

“Y/N.”

You gripped the counter. “Go away, Hyunjin.”

“No.” The word came through low, controlled, but something about it carried weight. You heard the restraint in it. The kind of self-control that didn’t last long on him. “We’re not doing this. Open the fucking door.”

You didn’t move.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

You pressed your forehead against the cold fridge. Closed your eyes. Prayed he’d leave.

He didn’t.

“Seriously?” he said, tone hardening. “I’ve been trying to talk to you all week. And you’ve been pretending like I don’t exist. You won’t text me back. You dodge me on campus. Are you kidding?”

You stepped forward quietly, still not unlocking it. “I just need space.”

“You don’t get space. Not like this.”

Your chest flared with anger. “Yes, I do. You don’t get to decide—”

“I didn’t mean for you to see that.”

Silence.

He hadn’t raised his voice. But those words hit you in the gut, sucked the breath right out of your lungs.

You stared at the door like it might crack and show you his face.

“You shouldn’t have been up there,” he said, more gently now. “But I shouldn’t have—fuck—I didn’t think.”

You swallowed. Hard.

“I know what you saw. I know how it looked. And I know it was fucked up. I’m not making excuses, but I need you to look at me and let me explain. Not just hide like I’m a fucking stranger.”

You hesitated.

Because he wasn’t a stranger.

He was Hyunjin.

And that was the real problem, wasn’t it?

That you couldn’t look him in the eye now without remembering that smirk. That cock. That twitch of his hips while she swallowed around him.

And worst of all—how wet it made you.

You hated yourself for it.

Your hand moved before you decided anything, fingers fumbling at the lock.

It clicked open.

And then you stepped back.

Hyunjin stood there, hair pulled back in a loose bun, hoodie thrown over his shoulders like he hadn’t even dressed properly—just rushed over here, raw and unfiltered and wide-eyed.

He looked at you.

And for once, he didn’t smile.

He stepped inside and shut the door behind him. “Talk to me.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Try.”

You shook your head. “I’m embarrassed.”

He stepped closer. “Why?”

You glanced up at him. “You know why.”

A long silence stretched between you.

And then, slowly—he nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”

He didn’t come closer.

Not at first.

He just stood beside your door, eyes on you like you were something breakable, like if he moved too fast he’d make this worse.

You hated that. Hated how careful he was suddenly being with you.

Like you were the one who needed gentle handling after he—

You exhaled sharply and walked toward your desk, needing distance, needing to not smell his hoodie or feel the way your skin buzzed with awareness now that he was in your space.

Hyunjin’s voice came from behind you. Low. Almost cautious.

“You’ve never ignored me before.”

Your back stayed to him. “That was before I saw your dick halfway down someone’s throat, Hyune.”

He flinched at your voice. At the sharp edge of it.

But you weren’t sorry.

You were embarrassed. Humiliated. Turned on.

And you were angry that he didn’t get it.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen like that,” he said again, quieter this time. “It was just… one of those nights.”

“One of those nights,” you echoed flatly, turning to look at him now, arms crossed. “Where you get sucked off by some random girl in the hallway with the door open?”

His jaw clenched. “I didn’t know the door was open.”

“But you knew I was there.”

A pause.

You didn’t miss the way he shifted.

The flicker in his expression.

“I didn’t mean to keep going,” he said. “I just—fuck—I looked up and you were standing there, and it was like—my brain short-circuited. I wasn’t even in my body.”

Your voice was barely a whisper. “You smirked at me.”

He looked away. You wanted to punch him. Or kiss him. Or something.

Instead, you laughed bitterly. “I don’t even know what that was. You’ve never even looked at me like that. Like I was someone who could be affected by you. Like I was a girl at one of your parties instead of just… me.”

He stepped forward.

Slow. Controlled. Deliberate.

“I didn’t think you’d ever look at me like that either,” he said.

You blinked. “What?”

“At the top of the stairs,” he said softly. “You looked like I’d ripped something out of you. Like you didn’t know whether to run or come closer.”

Your lips parted.

You forgot how to breathe.

“I’ve never seen that look on your face,” he continued, stepping closer again, voice low and burning. “And it fucked with my head. I’m not gonna lie to you.”

You couldn’t speak.

Your heart was thudding so loud it drowned everything else out.

“Say something,” he said.

“I don’t know what to say,” you whispered.

“Then say the truth.”

You swallowed. “The truth is that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.”

His breath hitched.

“And I hate that,” you added quickly. “I hate how it made me feel. I hate how it changed everything. I don’t want this to change things.”

“But it already did,” he said. “Didn’t it?”

Silence.

Your face felt like it was on fire. Your palms were sweating. You couldn’t even look at him now, because if you did, you might fold.

“I don’t want to be just another girl in your rotation, Hyunjin,” you said finally. “I’m not built for that.”

He stepped right into your space now, so close you had to look up at him.

His voice was softer now, almost pained. “You think I’d let you be just another girl?”

You hesitated. “Wouldn’t you?”

He stared at you.

Then, quietly—honestly—“No.”

Your breath caught.

“Then why didn’t you stop when you saw me?”

He didn’t answer right away.

Instead, his eyes flicked over your face like he was memorizing it.

And when he spoke again, his voice was rough and full of something you didn’t want to name yet.

“Because when I saw you standing there, I got hard in a different way.”

You felt the floor tilt.

“What?”

“I’ve had a number girls on their knees for me,” he said, unapologetic now. “But none of them ever made me feel like you standing there did.”

You couldn’t move.

You couldn’t think.

You could only feel—heat crawling under your skin, confusion knotting in your throat, arousal twisting low in your stomach.

And guilt. So much fucking guilt.

“You’re my best friend,” you whispered.

“So then why,” he said, stepping even closer, “can’t I stop thinking about what it would feel like to see you on your knees instead?”

His words echoed in the air between you like something pulled from a fever dream.

You didn’t breathe.

Didn’t blink.

Just stared at him—Hyunjin—your best friend—like you didn’t recognize him anymore. Like you did, but through new eyes. Through the haze of something thick and hot and wrong.

Your voice came out barely audible.

“Don’t say shit like that.”

His eyes dropped to your mouth. “Tell me you don’t think about it.”

You wanted to. You should’ve.

But you didn’t. Instead, your body betrayed you—tipping forward, breath hitching, skin burning under his stare.

“I don’t,” you lied.

His jaw flexed. “Bullshit.”

And then something cracked wide open between you.

You didn’t know who moved first.

Maybe it was both of you.

But suddenly his hand was in your hair, and your mouth was crashing into his, and the taste of him hit you like a punch to the lungs—mint and something darker, something that shouldn’t have been familiar but was.

He kissed like he wanted to imprint on you.

No hesitation. No apology. No space for thinking.

Just tongue and teeth and years of silence breaking all at once.

You gasped against his mouth, and he swallowed it—tilting his head, chasing the sound, backing you into the wall like gravity had flipped and he needed your body to stay standing.

“Fuck,” he breathed, lips dragging down your jaw, rough and open-mouthed. “Fuck, you don’t know what you’re doing to me—”

“Hyunjin—” you tried, but it was breathless, weak.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes wild. “You think I haven’t imagined this? Every fucking day since that night—”

Your chest heaved.

His hand slid down, gripping your hip, pulling you against him—and fuck, he was hard.

So hard it made you dizzy. So hard you couldn’t lie to yourself anymore either.

“Hyunjin—”

But he kissed you again before you could say anything else, and this time it was desperate. Less control. Less distance. Just the hot, undeniable press of his body against yours and the slick, obscene sound of your mouths meeting again and again.

Your fingers curled into his hoodie, tugging him closer, and he groaned into you like he’d been waiting years for this.

Like maybe he had.

Your head was spinning.

You weren’t supposed to want this.

You weren’t supposed to love the taste of him, the feel of his hand gripping your ass like he owned it, the low, broken sound he made when your thighs shifted and brushed where he was hard for you.

This was Hyunjin.

Your best friend.

The one who used to braid your hair when you were sick. The one who punched a guy in eleventh grade for calling you “easy.” The one who never looked at you like a girl.

But now?

Now he was looking at you like a man who’d been starving for too long.

And you were letting him.

You were kissing him back.

“Tell me to stop,” he panted against your lips. “Right now. Just say the word.”

You opened your mouth.

Closed it again.

He groaned—pained, like he wanted to be the better person.

But neither of you moved.

Because you couldn’t.

Because your body wanted this even if your mind was screaming.

And he could feel it in the way your hips tilted against his.

The way your lips parted for him again, again, when his tongue brushed yours.

So when he kissed you the third time, it was slower.

Angrier.

Like he was mad you let him do this. Mad at himself for needing it.

And when he finally broke away—breathing hard, eyes searching yours like he might come undone—you said the first honest thing of the night.

“I can’t stop thinking about it either.”

—-

It had been days since the kiss. Days since you both crossed a line and refused to talk about it. Days since every room you walked into with him felt like it was seconds away from combusting.

And the worst part?

You liked it.

You liked how his eyes followed you now. How he sat a little too close. How his thigh brushed yours and didn’t move. How his fingers sometimes caught your wrist and held you there a second too long. Like he didn’t mean to. Like he meant every second of it.

But most of all, you liked what it did to your head.

You thought about it all the time.

The bathroom. The way he looked. The size of him in her mouth. The way he didn’t stop when he saw you. The way he looked at you while she was still there on her knees. Like it didn’t matter who was pleasuring him—only who was watching.

It was sick. And hot.

And it made you touch yourself three nights in a row with your bottom lip between your teeth and his name barely whispered against your pillow.

Tonight, it finally broke you.

“Can I ask you something?” you said, too quietly, while you sat on his bed, knees drawn up, trying not to look at him.

Hyunjin was at his desk across the room, spinning a pencil between his fingers. He didn’t turn.

“Yeah?”

Your voice wavered. “Do you think things would go back to normal if I just… got it out of my system?”

He froze.

The pencil stopped spinning.

“What?”

You swallowed. “Like—if I did it. If I just… sucked your dick. Just once.”

Now he turned.

Full-body. Chair scraping against the floor.

You didn’t look at him, but you felt it.

Felt the weight of his stare.

Felt the breath leave the room.

“I’m serious,” you added when he didn’t speak.

His voice, when it came, was low. Disbelieving.

“You want to suck my dick.”

“I just…” You finally looked at him. “I can’t stop thinking about it. About that night. About… you.”

He blinked like he didn’t trust what he was hearing.

You kept going, digging the hole deeper. “I just want to know what it feels like. What you feel like. And maybe then… maybe it’ll stop haunting me.”

He stood up. Not even slowly. It was too fast, too jarring, and your breath hitched before you even realized you were backing against the headboard.

His voice was darker now. Low and flat. “You think blowing me is gonna cure you?”

“I think trying might,” you said. “And I trust you.”

He laughed—harsh, like it hurt to do. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Because if you’re on your knees for me, I won’t be able to pretend it’s just for closure.”

Your thighs pressed together.

“Then don’t pretend,” you said.

He stared at you.

And then, without another word, he stepped between your knees and looked down at you like he was on the verge of snapping.

“Last chance,” he murmured, breath uneven. “Tell me not to do this.”

You didn’t.

You slid down to the floor in front of him instead.

Your fingers curled around the waistband of his sweatpants, and he hissed softly when your hands brushed the outline of him.

Big. Thick. Heavy.

You already knew. You’d seen it.

But this—this was real.

You pulled them down slowly, watching as he sprang free—half-hard and still intimidating.

Your mouth went dry.

He wasn’t just big. He was gorgeous.

Veins and flushed skin, already thickening in your palm, and when your thumb brushed the slit, he groaned—low and guttural like it had punched out of him.

“Fuck—don’t tease me.”

You didn’t.

You wrapped your lips around the head and felt his thighs tense instantly. He wasn’t fully hard yet, but he was getting there—fast—thickening in your mouth, pulsing against your tongue.

He tasted like sweat and skin and salt, and when your tongue flattened along the underside, he cursed again, head falling back.

“Jesus, you’re—fuck, you’re good at that.”

Your hand pumped what didn’t fit, stroking him in rhythm with your mouth, slow and wet and wanting. You sucked harder and felt him twitch in your throat, and when you looked up, his eyes were already on you—burning.

That smirk you remembered was gone.

There was no smugness here.

Just hunger.

Your best friend. Undone.

He carded a hand through your hair—gentle at first, then tighter.

“Don’t stop,” he rasped. “Don’t even think about stopping.”

You didn’t. You let him slip deeper. Let your lips stretch wide, eyes watering when the tip kissed the back of your throat.

And when he moaned—actually moaned—you thought you might come from the sound alone.

“Fuck, baby—” he groaned, voice wrecked. “You have no fucking clue what you’re doing to me.”

But you did.

You felt it in the way his hips started to move, shallow thrusts into your mouth as he got closer, the grip in your hair becoming possessive, desperate.

You weren’t just erasing the girl from the bathroom.

You were replacing her. Branding yourself into the part of his brain where he kept his dirtiest memories.

When he finally warned you he was close—breathless, twitching, shaking—you pulled back enough to look up at him, lips wet, chin messy.

“Let me swallow it,” you whispered.

He cursed. Loud.

And then he came. Hard and hot, spilling into your mouth with a broken groan as his hand stayed tangled in your hair, his other braced against the wall behind you.

You swallowed everything.

Didn’t flinch. Didn’t break eye contact.

And when he finally opened his eyes again, you saw it.

The shift.

He wasn’t going to recover from this. And quite frankly, neither were you.

He was still catching his breath.

Still gripping the wall.

Still twitching between your fingers, glistening from your mouth.

And when you looked up at him like that—wide-eyed, flushed—he let out a ragged, broken sound.

Then he hauled you up off the floor with both hands.

You barely had time to gasp before his mouth was on yours, kissing you like it wasn’t enough. Like he wasn’t enough. Like nothing in the world could ever satisfy the way he wanted you right now.

“Fuck,” he growled against your lips, voice low and frantic, “I can’t stop touching you—I can’t fucking stop.”

He kissed you deeper, tasting himself on your tongue, his fingers already gripping your waist too tightly, trailing up your spine like he needed to know every ridge, every breath. His palms cupped your jaw, then dropped to your ass, pulling you flush against him even though he was still half-soft and oversensitive.

You whimpered into his mouth.

“Hyunjin—”

“I know,” he rasped, lips trailing down your neck now, biting just hard enough to make you gasp. “I know, baby.”

His hand slipped under your shirt, then under your bra—like he couldn’t wait, like he’d been dying to do it and didn’t even realize it until now. His touch was rough, frantic, worshipping as he palmed your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple until your knees buckled.

You tried to speak—tried to stop it before it got out of hand again—but you couldn’t.

Because he was already dragging your soaked thong down your thighs, snapping it off like it offended him, like he needed it gone yesterday.

“You wore this to my room?” he muttered, eyes dark as he tossed it across the floor. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t—” you breathed. “I didn’t know it’d happen like this—”

“Yeah?” he hissed, thumb brushing between your thighs now, rubbing your slit once, slow and purposeful. You jolted. “Then why are you this wet already?”

You couldn’t answer.

Didn’t get the chance.

Because then he flipped you onto the bed, dropped to his knees in front of you and buried his face in your pussy like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

You cried out—hand flying to his shoulder, his hair—anything to ground yourself as his mouth locked onto your clit and sucked so hard it stole the air from your lungs.

“Hyunjin—oh my god—”

He didn’t stop. Didn’t hesitate.

He groaned against you, lapping at your folds, tongue flicking and curling as he dragged you closer by the thighs, shoving one over his shoulder for better access. His fingers dug into your ass, tilting your hips just right so he could fuck his tongue into you deeper, wetter, filthier.

You couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t think.

Could barely stay upright.

Your back hit the headboard behind you, head thudding softly as he devoured you like he’d been starving for it—like he’d been dying for a taste ever since that night and just didn’t know it.

You sobbed his name, thighs shaking around his head, and he moaned in return—loud, guttural, desperate—sending vibrations straight through your cunt.

Your orgasm was building too fast. It was crawling up your spine, wrapping itself around your lungs, choking the words in your throat as you trembled against the wall.

“Hyun—Hyunjin—I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he growled, voice muffled in your heat. “Come on my tongue, baby—I want it.”

You shattered.

Head back. Fingers fisting his hair. Legs giving out completely.

And he kept going.

Licked you through it.

Swallowed everything.

Kept your legs open with his hands, his shoulders, his whole body, until you were twitching from overstimulation and trying to wriggle away.

Only then did he pull back.

His lips were swollen, chin slick, eyes glazed over with something feral.

“You thought sucking my dick would get me out of your system?” he panted, climbing back up your body.

You blinked at him, dazed.

He grabbed your jaw. Kissed you deep again, tongue tasting you on your own lips.

He was still breathing like he’d run a marathon.

Still gripping your waist like if he let go, he’d lose you again.

And then, out of nowhere, his voice broke—actually broke—low and hoarse and pleading against your neck.

“I need you… please.”

It wasn’t cocky. Wasn’t teasing.

It wasn’t a game anymore.

You froze.

Because hearing Hyunjin—your Hyunjin—say that like he was begging for you, like he needed you more than anything, did something to you. You didn’t even have to think. Your body moved before your brain caught up.

You pulled back just enough to look at him—his blown-out pupils, the way he swallowed like he was choking on his restraint, the barely-there twitch in his cock where it still hung thick between you, wet with need.

And just like that, you made your decision.

No fear. No hesitation. Just need.

You pushed his hands off you—softly. Watched his brows furrow in confusion for just a second before you reached for the hem of your shirt and lifted it slow.

Deliberate.

His breath caught.

Your bra followed—dropped to the floor in silence.

And his eyes trailed down like he didn’t know what to look at first: your nipples tightening under the cool air, your flushed skin, the steady rise and fall of your chest as you unbuttoned your jean skirt that was already bunched at your waist.

“Wait—” he rasped, almost winded. “What are you—”

You slipped them down your legs, shoving everything else with it—your last bit of modesty peeled away and kicked off until you were lying fully naked in front of him, bathed in the soft amber light from his lamp. You didn’t hide. Didn’t look away. Not even when your cheeks flushed.

Instead, you leaned back slowly, then spread your knees wide with zero shame, hands sliding down your own inner thighs as you held yourself open for him—soaked, needy, shameless.

Ready.

“I want you,” you whispered, voice wrecked. “I don’t care what happens after. I just… need to give this to you.”

He blinked once—twice—like his brain short-circuited.

Then he broke.

He stumbled forward, his cock hardening again right before your eyes, fingers twitching at his sides like he didn’t know what to touch first.

“Fuck—fuck—you’re unreal—” he hissed, dragging his gaze across your body like it physically hurt him not to be inside you already. “I thought about this—so many times—and I didn’t even know I was thinking about it. You—you’re gonna kill me.”

You leaned back slightly, baring yourself even more. “Then die.”

That was all it took.

He was on you in seconds.

Kissing you deep, moaning against your lips like he was in pain, dragging his cock along your soaked folds with the kind of reverence that bordered on obsession.

“Do you even know what you’re doing to me?” he whispered into your skin, hands gripping your hips like you’d disappear. “Fuck, baby, I’m gonna ruin you—I have to.”

You arched up, hips bucking, cunt clenching around nothing.

“Just do it.”

He lined himself up, breath hitching—eyes locked with yours.

Then slowly—deliberately—he started to push in.

You felt him stretch you inch by inch—hot, thick, impossibly deep.

And the moment Hyunjin sank in all the way, both of you just… froze.

He was buried inside you to the hilt.

His jaw clenched so tight it trembled.

And your walls fluttered around him, helpless and raw, like your body couldn’t believe it was him.

“Jesus…” he whispered, voice breaking as he pressed his forehead to yours. “You’re perfect. You’re fucking perfect.”

You couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t think.

All you could do was whimper his name and clutch at his shoulders, the stretch of him lighting up nerves you didn’t even know existed. No one had ever filled you like this. No one had ever even come close.

And he knew it.

Hyunjin started to move—slow at first, like he didn’t want to rush it.

Each roll of his hips was molten, deep, pulling out just enough to press back in with maddening force, grinding against your sweet spot so perfectly it made your eyes roll.

“Fuck,” he moaned, voice low and reverent. “You take me so good, baby. So tight for me. Like this pussy was made for me.”

Your whole body jerked under him at that—at the pure filth of his praise, the way it slipped so easily from that mouth that had kissed your forehead a thousand times.

He saw it. Felt your cunt clench hard around him.

“Yeah?” he growled, gripping your wrists and pinning them above your head. “You like that? Being fucked by your best friend?”

You nodded frantically, back arching. “Hyun—Hyunjin—please.”

“Please what?” he hissed, thrusts snapping faster now. “Tell me. I want to hear it.”

“Please fuck me harder—don’t stop—don’t ever stop—”

That did it.

He growled something broken—unintelligible—and slammed into you harder, hips pounding against yours with a rhythm that had the whole bed shaking, creaking, your breath knocked out of you with every thrust.

You were already close again.

The pressure was building so fast it scared you—but you couldn’t stop it, didn’t want to. You wanted to fall apart beneath him, wanted him to ruin you.

He leaned down suddenly—kissed you, deep and filthy, his tongue sliding against yours, swallowing every moan, every cry.

Then he pulled back to look at you. His expression softened—but it was worse, somehow. More intense. More raw.

“I’ve never wanted anyone like this,” he panted. “I swear to God—you’re the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

His thrusts slowed again—not stopping, but savoring now.

“You’re art,” he whispered, cupping your face, brushing his thumb across your cheek as he rocked into you so deep you gasped. “And I get to ruin you.”

You whimpered, tears brimming now—not from pain, not from fear—but from the weight of being seen like this. Loved like this. Even if he hadn’t said the word yet.

He felt your body tense beneath him—felt the way your cunt started to clamp down, so close to the edge you could taste it.

“You gonna come for me?” he whispered against your lips, voice breaking. “Come on, baby… Let me feel it. Let me feel you fall apart around my cock.”

You shattered.

Your back arched. Your mouth opened in a silent cry. Your whole body clenched so tight around him that he swore, stuttered, lost rhythm completely as you came around him.

“Fuckfuckfuck— you feel like heaven—” he groaned, then pulled out fast, stroking himself with messy, frantic hands. “Where? Where do you want it?”

You blinked up at him, still trembling. “My stomach. Please—just—show me.”

He let out a sound like he’d been holding his breath for years—then came hard with a desperate grunt, spilling hot and heavy all over your bare skin, streaks painting across your navel and hips as he moaned your name.

You lay there, both of you panting, your thighs still twitching as the aftershocks hit.

He collapsed beside you after a moment, still kissing your shoulder, your neck, your temple like he couldn’t stop.

Then he whispered, breath warm against your skin:

“I’m never letting anyone else touch you again.”

“What’s new?” You chuckled.

—-

The room was silent—Not the awkward kind. No.

Just heavy, saturated, sated silence. Like the whole room had exhaled with you.

You laid there on your back, your chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. Your legs were limp. Your pulse was thrumming in your ears.

Hyunjin was beside you, chest heaving, one arm draped across your waist like his body had moved on instinct—like he still needed to keep you close even now. Especially now.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke.

Your mind was too scrambled. You couldn’t even remember how to move, let alone what to say.

So you stared at the ceiling, the faint glow of the bedside lamp catching the sheen of sweat on your skin. You could still feel his hands on you—still feel the phantom stretch of his cock inside you. Your core ached in the most devastating, delicious way.

And then…

“…What the fuck did we just do?”

His voice was quiet. Like he was asking himself as much as he was asking you.

You blinked. Swallowed.

The words you were supposed to say—the things that would make it better, easier, less permanent—they just didn’t come. Your mouth opened, but your voice caught.

He shifted onto his side to face you, brushing a strand of hair from your cheek.

His eyes were so soft.

Too soft.

And that was when the fear crept in.

Not fear of him, not of the sex, not even of how good it felt—but of the possibility that you’d broken something. That maybe your friendship couldn’t go back. That maybe you didn’t want it to.

“I didn’t mean for you to see me like that, you know? With her.” He started suddenly.

You winced.

“I know.”

“I tried to go after you when you ran off, you know?” he murmured. “Tried to talk to you after, but you just kept running from me.”

You bit your lip. You didn’t want to admit that it wasn’t because you were mad. It wasn’t because you were hurt. It was because you were so turned on it scared you. Because every time you looked at him, you couldn’t stop imagining that girl in the bathroom, couldn’t stop wondering what it would feel like to be on your knees instead.

And now… you knew.

He leaned over you, hovering, but not crowding. Watching you with that same intensity he always had—but now it felt different. Loaded. You could feel it in your blood, in the way your body still buzzed from him.

“I should be sorry we took it this far,” he said. “But I’m not.”

Your breath caught.

He reached down, fingers brushing through the mess he’d left on your stomach, slow and reverent, like he couldn’t believe he’d done that to you—with you.

“I’ve wanted you like this for longer than I was willing to admit.”

You blinked. “But you never… You never looked at me like that.”

“I didn’t let myself.”

His voice dropped, rough and raw again.

“I didn’t want to fuck this up. You were the only thing that wasn’t a game to me. I didn’t want to ruin you the way I ruin everything else. But the second I saw you watching me… that night… the second I realized what I’d done—what I might’ve just lost—I couldn’t stop.”

You swallowed.

Something twisted in your chest—sharp and sweet all at once.

“I don’t know what this means,” you whispered.

“I do,” he said simply. “It means I’m all yours now.”

You laughed, breathless, half-shaky. “Since when?”

“Since always,” he said. “You just didn’t know it yet.”

You paused. Heart thundering.

Then slowly, you turned toward him—reached out and dragged your fingers down his chest, resting them just above his heart.

And this time, when he kissed you, it was slow. Intentional. Worshipful.

He pulled the blanket over your bodies, curled around you like you were something sacred.

Neither of you said another word.

But you knew.

Things weren’t going back to normal.

They were becoming something better.

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

Authors note: Guys i have so much unfinished fics 😭 i see all your requests i promise and i am writing them!! But yeah lets have some Hyunjin love today 😍😍🤭🤭 Tell me if you want to be added or removed from my taglist! But dont forget to like and reblog 🍒

Taglist: @tsunderelino @innieandsungielover @inlovewithstraykids @reignessance @jeonismm @sttnficrecs @herejusttemporary @krssliu @kenia4 @miilquetoast @thackery-blinks @leeminho-hall @suga-is-bae @butterflydemons @inejghafawifesblog @malunar28replies @minchanlimbo @mal-lunar-28 @breakmeofftbr @itvenorica124 @slut4junho @deepblueocean97 @thequibbie @yaorzu-blog @imagine-all-the-imagines @just-bria @mischievousleeknow @ifyxu @melanctton @thelostprincessofasgard @binniebb @sillylittlecat1 @darkwitchoferie @m-325 @headfirstfortoro @imseungminsgf @ihrtlix @vernorica123 @hwangjoanna @swordswallower2000 @niki007 @yxna-bliss @firelordtsuki @justwonder113 @mbioooo0000 @sammhisphere @nebugalaxy @cutecucumberkimberly @chancloud8 @sunflwerstar

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dilf-docs · 5 months ago

Text

So Is it Your Place Or Mine?

bfd!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: summer is over, but your affair with joel isn't (or, you grind on joel's belt buckle while sarah is at soccer practice)

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, smut, p. in v., exhibition kink (sarah is again a victim of this), brat taming (this two are soo into it), degradation kink, praise kink, lwk breeding kink, daddy kink (wow! it's a whole library of alexandria of kinks in here), fingering, dad bod!joel (best joel you mean), angst (oh guys look oh no it's alr starting), dirty talk!!!!! (they're so dirty ew i want it too wait who said that)

word count: 3,701 words

side note: and it became officially a series. hope u all are into this as much as i am because it's my first series ever !!!!! ALSO angst finally makes it way in this mess LET'S GO (i'mcrying i really looked up big texas belt to come up with a mental image in the middle of class, i'm so sorry to whoever sat behind me but idc abt me writing smut while at uni; we die like real men)

part: prev | masterlist | next

"What do you mean you're not coming?"

It's been an unspoken rule that, even if you hate sports and the ball stays ten meters away from you, you always come to Sarah's soccer practice, cheering for her from your usual spot at the benches.

Except today, you aren't there. And now Sarah is calling you when she shouldn't, but that she doesn't know.

"I can't. I have stuff to work on stuff"

Bullshit.

Your laptop and the half-written essay sit untouched at the coffee table. The thing being touched in question, is something entirely different.

"Need help?"

His hands grip any free spot of your glistening skin, sucking on the rosy pink until it turns maroon red.

"I'm at my dorm, sorry"

Double bullshit.

Sarah doesn't even know your car is parked next to her dad's truck. She has about four hours to find out.

"I can drop by later then" she suggests.

His hot breath tingles against your neck as his nose caresses the spot. Bad girl, he mouths, like he wasn't the one who told you to pick up, despite his daughter's name on the caller's ID. You try to reach for a kiss, but his digits press on your hair, pulling you back with violence to forbid your lips from touching his. Bad girl, and your arousal drips with more intensity at the remark. Bad girl.

"No!" the answer comes quick, your voice strained, and Sarah jokes that you should take it easy with your classes, instead of suspecting anything else.

"Fine! I won't go if you don't want me to, but if you show up dead by stress, I'll be free of guilt"

He kisses the outline of your jaw with sloppy movements, like he just wants to busy himself while Sarah blabbers about the practice, and you keep trying to make her stop, but she tells you not to worry, that she's on a break right now, and the task to avoid whimpering at his rough kisses across your neck becomes increasingly difficult. A gasp escapes your lips when his teeth sink into your flesh. Mine, not to be said but to be felt. Seen by the rest. A pretty red that tastes like the blood he craves, the hunger akin to violence. Bad girl, and he's biting your lip to stop any other filthy noises from escaping. What if she hears?

"Are you okay?" concern laced on Sarah's tone. Guilt creeps through the cracks of the worn-out paint of his bedroom, one your friend had practically begged him to restore; the joke of it all was that was about his job yet he couldn't fix his own goddamn house. "Y/n, did you hurt yourself?"

I'm treating you well, ain't I, doll? and then he'd grin against the crook of your neck before looking at you, his dark blown-wide pupils gazing at you with a hunger you didn't think it was possible. They'd burn, and the fire didn't scare you: it was the warm your cold body needed. Tell Sarah her daddy ain't hurting her slut of a friend.

"I-I'm fine" you manage to choke out. Good girl.

Joel's lids feel heavy as a crown. But you like 'em rough, don't 'cha, baby?

"Should I worry?"

Joel pulls harder, your scalp burning at the harsh tug. Answer when I ask. You breathe in heavily, and Sarah keeps on asking you if you're okay, threatening to burst through a dorm door she'll find empty.

"N-no" you meekly answer, and he laughs at your demeanor. Under his weight, pinned down on the mattress, there's nowhere to run to.

"Is it okay if I-"

"Sarah I need to hang, okay? My head hurts. Bye" it all comes down in a rush, the words a vomit of excuses. You make sure the call has ended, and so does Joel, that in an act of mercy, has stopped. You both look the screen until the lockscreen is back up again, a picture of you and Sarah. Despite used to having his weight on top of you, your throat feels constricted.

"Do you want to traumatize your daughter, Mr. Miller?"

He's back at his task of kissing, making you moan and writhe at the sensitivity of your kissed and bit skin during the last hour. You hate how he takes his time―edging you; unbearable.

"What I want is you"

The lie comes out effortlessly from his teeth. He wants you, needs you, but does he really want you? His daughter's best friend, the college girl he was going to lecture just last summer―to live life and forget about him, yet couldn't. He lies to himself, saying he didn't because you felt asleep, but feeling a warm body next to him, being your beautiful frame of all people, made it hard.

The way he makes a moaning mess out of you, how he knows every spot of your body no one had been able to please before, how your cunt stretches perfectly around his cock, how you call his name like no one else had done. It belongs to you now, and this is a vice.

It's like he's got a wound, and you're the only balm that can soothe the pain. But the effect is temporary, and after you leave, he always finds himself wanting more.

The doubt on his eyes has your heart beating out of fear.

"Then have me, Mr. Miller" you dare.

When Joel smiles, barely noticeable, something flutters in your stomach.

"Al'ight, impatient one. We have sum hours until Sarah's back. Spread" his hand nudges your thighs apart, and you oblige, making Joel chuckle at your obedience. "Good girl, baby. S'good f'r me"

You let out a gentle moan at the praise, and he smirks at your reaction.

"Feelin' desperate, are we?" he taunts, seeing your pretty lips parted and face flushed, a whine escaping them.

"Shut the fuck up and just kiss me already" you beg, pussy throbbing painfully.

"Damn brat" he hisses, "ain't you such'a needy greedy slut?" his finger hooks on your panties, tugging you closer into him, your body rising to clash against his softer frame that has nothing to do with his rough demeanor. You can feel the bulge that has formed through his pants, making you moan in delight.

"Sorry, daddy. I'll be a good girl" you squirm under his weight, pouting lips and batting eyelashes. "Please, kiss me. Pretty please, daddy"

"Jus' cus you asked well" but he knows it's an excuse to capture your sweet lips until he's tasted all of you. You once heard old men kiss like they want to devour every inch of your mouth, to make space for their tongue like it's going to live in there, and they were right.

He pulls away from the kiss to pull out his shirt, revealing his soft body. Your hands itch, immediatly reaching for it with wandering fingers. He chuckles at the eagerness, but then he catches the subtle adoration in your eyes, and his breath hitches, heart stopping.

"What's wrong?" you look up, and it's gone. Maybe he imagined it.

Joel doesn't know why he feels dissapointed by it.

He tries to push the thoughts back, head diving down between your breasts, leaving sloppy kisses and messy trails of saliva with his tongue on each one. He gives a special lick to your hardened nipples, making you squirm.

"Gonna bend y'r fuckin' sexy little body on this sheets. Gonna make you cum all'over, until y'r scent is'mpregnated on 'em"

You groan at his words, fingers pulling down the pajama shorts you brought over, revealing your pretty black laced lingerine.

"Fuck, baby. You wore 'em for me?" he's asking, and you'd be crazy if you think the tone reveals devotion. Is Joel even capable of warmth?

He leaves a new trail of kisses, this time, running from your neck to your stomach.

"Gonna make you scream my name 'til that's the only thin' you know how to say" his hot breath tingles over your abdomen. He buries his face in there, the mustache and scruffy graying hair tickling the skin. "Gon' give you such'a load, this flat stomach of yours will be bustin' with my seed"

You whine at his filthy words, mouth agape slightly. He looks at your soaked panties, arousal on clear display now. Joel's cock twitches in the confines of his jeans.

He lets out a low growl. "Look at you, such'a slut for me. Drippin' wet like a fuckin' whore and desperate, when I ain't even touch you"

To prove so, Joel teasingly runs his fingers along your inner thigh, dangerously close to your soaking core.

He pulls your underwear down, taking them off.

"M'gonna fuck you real good, baby" his fingers dig on your thighs for support, the burning sensation of his calloused digits on your soft skin delicious. "Gon' take care of what's mine"

Mine.

The words ring loud and clear. The only other noise to be heard is his lips leaving wet sounds against your thighs. Does Joel even realize what he said? Or was it in the heat of the moment?

No, wait. Stop. Why do you care?

He begins to rub circles in your clit, coating his fingers in your dripping arousal, prodding the tense needy hole, making you moan in desperation.

"Please, daddy" your lips cry as you beg for him to do anything to remove the pain in between your legs.

"Please, what?" Joel teases, voice raspy. He keeps prodding your center, his digits in and out in a gentle manner, contrasting his hard hold on your thigh. You squirm and whine at the sensation, but maybe it's the dark on his eyes that's really responsable for making you shrink under his gaze. "Think 'm doin' this for ya'? To please ya'? No, baby" he tuts, "you were a bad girl. Almost got caught"

"If you didn't make me answer" you seethe, a moan almost escaping your lips when his fingers hit that sweet spot of yours. "Maybe if you didn't, she wouldn't-"

Joel removed his fingers from you, and you reduce to a moaning mess, begging for the release you were chasing and now it's lost.

"But you wanted'er to know, didn't ya'?" he unbuckles his belt and fumbles with his worn-out jeans, revealing a barely concealed neediness on his side. "Wanted'er to know where 'er slut of a friend was: at daddy's house, beggin' for his dick like a cockhungry slut"

"I-I want it. Want you dick" you barely choke out, lips parted at the sight of his pulsating dick's silhouette under his brief.

"Then take it, hungry one"

His tip buries deeply into your cunt before you even speak again, sliding inside in one swift motion. You gasp, as he fills you up completely, because despite the way your cunt stretches for him, or the way you have had his dick and need it, his girth never fails to amaze you.

"D-daddy" you moan, walls stretching to accommodate his size. Your sweet arousal drips down your thighs, coating Joel's balls. Fuck, doesn't he love to see you squirming under him. He's never had a woman like you before, wrapped around his finger. You may be a girl, but God, you feel so much better around his dick than anyone else: your cunt tenses around his cock deliciously, his dick twitching when he takes a look at your legs shaking and fucked out state.

"That's it, pretty girl. Beg for'it"

His words go straight to your core as you moan. "Please. Let me take all of you, Joel, please"

You said his name. Fuck. He shouldn't be this aroused, but the way you say it like that's the only thing you know, like it means something more, it makes his dick throb and heart sting. That he, Joel Miller, old bitter man, single dad, could mean more to a young pretty girl like you.

"Fuck" he grunts, grabbing a handful of your hair as he begins to pull out slowly, plunging inside of you with harsh movements. The sound of skin clapping is obscene as he begins to fuck you mercilessly. "Ain't you a noisy lil' thing, huh? You like that, baby? You like it rough?"

Your voice comes out shaky. "Y-yes, daddy. F-fuck, just like that. I like it a l-lot"

"Good girl" he grins satisfied with your respone, his thrusts getting rougher and messier. "Lookin' s'pretty with my dick's inside of you"

Joel changes angles without telling you, brushing your g-spot. A noise so loud and vulgar comes out of your parted lips, and you feel ashamed.

But then he's brushing a strand of hair from your face, with a delicacy you've seen reserved for his daughter only. It feels weird, and you try that it doesn't distract you from your looming orgasm.

"Joel..." you breath out his name.

"Yes?" with everything coming out of his mouth: possesiveness, neediness, pleasure. Like he'd give you the world if you just ask, despite telling himself he wouldn't.

"K-keep going"

Your gaze bores into his eyes with an intensity that almost makes him stop. Because the words are simple, but Joel's been alive enough on this Earth to know it doesn't mean just that.

Keep going. Don't stop. Don't end this. Don't let me go.

"Whatever m'princess asks if she asks 'em nice"

You scream in pleasure as his thrusts become deeper, his balls slapping against your cunt, as your slick begins to run down your thighs. Joel thinks he's going crazy at the way your folds take him, how tight you feel, and the loud noises you make, begging him to fuck you harder, to use you. Every thrust pushes you closer to the edge, writhing under his touch as you begin to see stars.

"You close, aren't ya'?" he laughs, but it's devoid of mockery. A subtle softness hides behind them. Ask nicely, and I shall give. "Gon' cream 'round my dick like a good girl, right?"

His digits dig in the flesh of your hips, guiding himself to fuck you harder, for you to take him better, caging your body under the sheets, pushing you even closer to your orgasm. You mewl loudly, tears in the corner of your eyes at the delicious burn.

If you told yourself a year ago you'd be crying over Joel Miller's dick, of all people, you'd probably laugh. But no college boys had been able to please you, less bring you to tears as you reach your orgasm. This is heaven, and you aren't ready to say goodbye to the paradise you found in summer just yet.

Your core tenses around him, body so close to finishing, hair a mess, eyes brimming with tears, and lips spilling the filthiest sounds ever heard to humankind. It's heaven, and Joel isn't ready to give it up just yet. Your pussy throbs, and as your juices mix as one, you roll your eyes and head back, your high approaching, knot in your stomach tightening faster. Before you can register, your mind goes blank and you're seeing stars.

You come around his cock, coating it in your arousal as Joel admires how you cream his member, tight walls almost pushing him out of you. He groans at your simmering cries, some tears coming out of your eyes.

"What'e fuckin' slut, baby. You sure are somethin' else" he chuckles, his thrusts messier by his own high approaching. "Wait for me, yeah, baby?"

You humm, as he buries deep into you, filling you up completely, as his hips stop their harsh movements when he feels the tension in his abdomen release.

"Fuckin' sweet" he uses a finger to clean some of the slick that's run down your leg. "Good girl"

He licks them off in an obscene display, making sure to never break contact.

"If you keep doing that, I'm gonna become a real bad girl" you taunt.

Then he pulls out of you carefully, doing his best not to spill too much of his load from your cunt. He grabs one of the corners of his sheets, cleaning some of his seed from your thighs. Joel should be careful, but all his foggy mind can muster is you being his in every way he can. Making you his. Mine. Mine. Mine. You plead him not to do that, but he argues laundry day is soon and he likes it better when it smells like you anyway. You confess with a cute light blush in your cheeks that you do the same when he comes over to fuck you in your dorm, sleeping better when the covers smell like him. He shouldn't feel like this: like it could be. But he allows himself to, even for an instant.

"Oh, yeah?" he pants, "what you gon' do?"

Your eyes travel to his jeans and untied buckle he hadn't wasted time taking off, rather just pulling them down.

"I have something in mind..." you wander off, remembering filthy thoughts of your first night together, how you briefly thought about it. "I-" you cut off, blushing furiously.

"Yes?" he holds your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him as his rough fingers press on the skin. "Remember what I told ya', baby? To ask nicely? 'Cause you said you'd be a good girl, so be one and tell daddy what'd ya' want"

You gulp, trying to hold his gaze. You never back down. You never back down. But the intensity of the shinning copper makes that insufferable character of yours to be tamed, boiling against the surface but just scratching, all screams lost. Is like he knows this power over you, acting on it with a benevolence so sick, it has you thinking loving Joel Miller isn't impossible.

You never back down, but being with Joel feels like walking over stones, always thinking about the next step and the ones that were, ghosts of the lingering doubts and afterthoughts behind every step you take. It's like there's a river below them, washing away regret.

But you're still here: water up your knees then and now over your head.

You're barely floating. You'd be willing to drown anyway.

"I want to ride your belt buckle"

There's silence in the other side, until its met with a light chuckle.

"Yeah?" Joel keeps on laughing, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "S'that what that filthy head of yours be thinkin' on?"

"Stop it" you groan, covering your hot face with your palms. You wish you could erase that ugly smirk off his face. "I'm never telling you anything again, ever"

"Now c'mon, baby. I was jus' messin' 'round" his tone adquires a soft edge to it, tender warm hands removing yours from your face. "Don't cover your face, baby. You're too goddam pretty" you blush, and Joel better resist the urge to kiss you just for the sake of kissing you. "I didn't mean to make fun of ya'. You know y'can tell me anythin' that's goin' inside that head of yours"

"Then you'll let me?" your pretty eyes look up to him, shinning like the stars of the summer night sky months ago.

He can't deny you anything, and a small crack of fear wounds his impenetrable heart.

"Get'ere you filthy slut"

You eagerly climb onto his lap as he sits against the beds headboard, your thighs pushing against his belly.

"Now" he tries to put in a more comfortable position, his tired joints creaking. He avoids your gaze, coughing over his blush. "You do all the job, baby. I ain't gonna help you, this greedy pussy took all of my energy"

You giggle, moving until your bare pussy clashes against the cold. A shiver runs down your spine, the dried juices moistening again over the metal piece. His hands move to your hips, hands now soft as they hold you, and he seems unsure of it, both of your breaths coming out ragged.

"You said you weren't gonna help" you chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck. His face feels closer, and you can see lines time has marked across his features. "But thanks, daddy"

His heart takes a dangerous leap.

"'Course, baby" he smiles. "You know I spoil ya' too damn much"

You begin to roll your hips, sliding your pussy over the cold material, your arousal making a wet slick sound that bounces off the walls, a shiver down your back as you feel your slick already coating the front of it and the top of his jeans.

"Mmm, can't say no to me, can you, baby?" you mock, rocking your hips back and forth. A shaky breath escapes your parted lips, and Joel feels his renovated dick spring hard. You moan, your ass barely touching his now tense member.

"Quit runnin' that mouth of y'rs, baby" his digits dig on your skin, "or I'll bend ya' over again"

"Sorry, daddy" you feel the metal star on the middle digging inside your pussy, the borders of the imprint brushing your leaking cunt in a pleasant way. "I promise to be good"

"Do" he grunts, "you're runnin' out of time, doll"

You close your eyes, movements more quick and erratic, little moans leaving your body as you groan.

"Tell me how this lil' experiment of yours feelin', baby"

"F-feels good, daddy. Fuck" you groan, lifting your hips a bit as you grind yourself down across the material. "So so good, daddy. Thank you, daddy"

"Mmm, that's right. Now be a good girl and come for me. Let me see that pretty face of yours when ya' come over ma' belt"

You let out a shaky breath, juices spilling over his jeans even as you see stars. He chuckles, enamoured at the sight.

"You gonna need help with that?" you point out his boner.

Oh, aren't you a doll? So kind-hearted.

"That's okay" he breathes out, tiredly. He thinks of the next trip to the bathroom, the image of what he'll fuck himself to clear now.

You smile at him, for the first time forgetting this started as a blowing-off-steam-time or transaction.

For a moment, it feels like it could be.

"Jus' seein' you cum all over me so prettily is'nough, baby"

credits: divider @kodaswrld / gif @loregifs

#dilfistwrites #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #bfd!joel miller #bfd!joel #tlou #tlou fanfiction #to the devil i know series

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