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briefinquiries · 1 month

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Tyler Owens x Reader: Too Easy

Request: Anonymous asked: "okay i have a tyler owens request!! him and reader are both tornado wranglers and they’ve always had a somewhat flirty relationship, but at one point they’re out chasing and the motel they stay at that night doesn’t have enough rooms for all of them so Tyler and the reader decide to share and reader has a nightmare? or just some kind of angst or hurt/comfort with a happy ending? love ur work!"

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: PTSD, trauma, tornado mention

A/N: I changed it from flirty to an enemies to lovers-type relationship, just because i've been craving to write that type of banter. as always, comments & replies are super appreciated!!! thanks for reading :)

As soon as you saw the familiar red Dodge truck parked outside the motel you groaned.

“Is this guy everywhere, all the time?” Halle, one of your crew members, mumbled from the driver’s seat. She pulled your SUV into the only empty spot in the parking lot.

She was referencing Tyler– another local storm chaser and absolute pain in your ass. His Ram truck was like a symbol all around Oklahoma. Everyone in the midwest knew his name– and what he did. You, on the other hand, knew him as a self-absorbed jerk that constantly put his and his team’s lives in danger for a few hundred thousand views on YouTube. He was cocky and obnoxious and arrogant. And you couldn’t stand him.

Unfortunately for you though, Tyler Owens and his entire team went where the storms went. Which meant that you were stuck dealing with him– especially during tornado season.

“Let’s just get a room, maybe we missed him,” you mumbled before turning to the backseat. “Anna, could you pass me my bag?”

“Sure thing,” she replied, grunting as she handed your duffel over.

“How about two rooms tonight?” you suggested. “I feel like I haven’t actually slept since we were in Austin.”

“God, I’ve been waiting for you to suggest that,” Halle mumbled. The bags around her eyes suggested she was just as eager for a good night’s sleep as you were.

Together, the three of you dragged yourselves towards the motel lobby, exhausted and desperate for both a shower and a bed.

“Why don’t you guys wait with all the gear? I’ll go in and book the rooms,” you offered.

“Two of them,” Halle said with a relieved smile.

“Two rooms coming up,” you promised.

They nodded in agreement and settled in on the curb while you wandered inside. The bell above the door rang loudly as you stepped inside. As soon as you did, you realized that, to your absolute dismay, a familiar someone had already beat you to the front desk. You’d recognize those stupid, broad shoulders any day, even if you were sleep deprived.

“Evenin’ m’lady,” Tyler’s little sidekick said teasingly. He tipped his baseball cap towards you.

“Hey Boone,” you greeted back curtly.

“What’d ya think of that beaut earlier, huh? Not too often we get two storm cells like that.”

“Yeah it was somethin’,” you replied absentmindedly. Honestly, you didn’t dislike Boone. He was friendly– maybe a little overzealous for your liking, but overall a nice guy. It was a shame he was always around Tyler– otherwise you might not always be so annoyed with him, too.

“There she is,” Tyler beamed. He approached you and Boone while he tucked a few room keys in his wallet. “Were you fillin’ Boone in on why you picked the wrong storm to chase today? Because that’s a story I want to hear–”

Your gaze fell to the floor, chest tightening the same way it did in the field earlier. “The winds changed last minute– I didn’t catch it,” you muttered, although you shouldn’t even have to explain yourself to this hillbilly.

“Ah, I see. Man, you’re off your game, sweetheart. Usually it’s me missin’ those signs. What do you got cloudin’ up that pretty little mind of yours?”

Anger began seeping into the corners of your mind. “Why do you even care?” you asked icily. “Thought you’d be happy to have that storm all to yourself.”

“Oh, I was sweetheart,” Tyler winked. “But I don’t mind sharin’ with you.”

Rolling your eyes, you pushed past him towards the front desk. A younger girl with short, red hair offered you a smile. “How can I help you?”

“I need two rooms please,” you requested, it took about all the energy you had left to smile back.

The girl sucked in a breath of air. “Oh, I’m so sorry– this gentleman here just rented three rooms. All we have left is one.”

“One?” you asked in disbelief, mouth falling open.

She nodded. “There’s two beds, though, if that helps.”

“Shit,” you grumbled. Your team was exhausted– and you knew that you couldn’t just take back your promise for them to have their own beds.

“I’m sorry–” the girl repeated, but you shook your head.

“No, it’s okay. Not your fault,” you said quickly, trying to remember your manners..

“Somethin’ wrong over there sweetheart?” Tyler asked teasingly.

“Yeah, you took all but one of the rooms. Now my team doesn’t have enough.”

“C’mon, I’ve seen you guys cram into one room before.”

“Yeah, but they’re exhausted. We haven’t had our own beds in weeks and I promised them…” your voice trailed off. Why the hell were you even explaining any of this to him? “You know what? Just forget it–” you turned back towards the receptionist. “I’ll take the one room, please.”

After passing your card over and paying, you turned and pushed back past Tyler and Boone. But before you could reach the door, Tyler’s voice stopped you in your tracks.

“What are you just gonna go back on your promise? That’s really gonna disappoint your team–”

“I’ll sleep in the damn truck,” you snapped, zero patience for any of his sarcasm or feeble attempts at a joke. “Happy?”

“Hey–” he said, voice softening instantly. “I was just kiddin’ around.”

“Really funny,” you said, sarcasm dripping off your tongue, now more than usual, Tyler was getting on your nerves. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and disappoint my team.”

Without waiting for whatever retort Tyler could come up with next, you finally pushed your way through the door without looking back.

You found Halle and Anna in the same place you left them– still sitting on the curb, slouched over and exhausted-looking.

“Hey guys, bad news–” you began, guilt already spreading through your stomach. But before you could, the bell to the lobby door rang out, causing you to groan.

You took a deep, steadying breath to calm your nerves, just in time for Tyler to speak. “Now I have an idea– how about we share? I got three rooms for my team, but that’s six beds… we only need five.”

You spun around so fast, you were surprised you didn’t get whiplash. “Look Tyler, as much as you know I love your antics, can we not do this right now? Please?”

“Who said anythin’ about antics?” he pressed. “I’m bein’ serious here. Your two can have their beds and you can take one of ours.”

“No way,” you spat quickly. “I’m sleeping in the car.”

By now, Halle and Anna had seemingly picked up on the situation. They stood up and crossed their arms disapprovingly in unison.

“You can’t sleep in the car, that’s ridiculous,” Anna said.

“Yeah, why don’t you and Anna take the room and I’ll share with Tyler’s crew,” Halle offered.

“No,” you shook your head. “I promised you guys a good night’s sleep tonight– I’m not letting you crash with them.”

“Well we’re not letting you sleep in the car,” Halle argued back. “It’s like… eighty-five degrees out here.”

You let your eyes fall shut for a moment, trying to think. But the truth was, you really were just so, so tired. You wanted everything about today– the storm cells you got wrong from earlier, the endless hours of driving, and lack of sleep, over with. And if bunking with someone from Tyler’s crew was the only way to make that happen, well then, so be it, you finally decided. Better you than Halle or Anna.

“See– even your team isn’t as scared of us as you are,” Tyler chuckled.

“Fine,” you snapped, shaking your head in disbelief. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening. “Who am I sharing with?”

Maybe you’d get lucky and get to room with Dani or Lilly–

“That would be me,” Tyler chirped, eyes glistening under the streetlamp.

Well fuck me, you thought.

…

You curled up in the double bed closest to the wall. By the time you got up to the room, Tyler had already claimed the one closest to the door.

You heard the water snap off in the bathroom, followed by the sound of Tyler peeling back the shower curtain. That was your cue to feign sleep, if only to avoid any further conversation with him for the night. You rolled over and pulled the blankets up to your chin.

After a few minutes, he emerged from the bathroom– the noise from the fan growing louder and a sudden whiff of his shampoo washing over you. You’d never admit it– but the way he smelled was actually one of the few things you liked about Tyler.

“I know you’re not sleepin’,” he said as he began rummaging through his bag.

“How the hell would you know that?” you groaned.

You heard him chuckle softly. “Because you wouldn’t have answered if you were.”

This fucking cowboy.

“Well I’d like to be sleeping,” you said, still not rolling over to face him.

“And here I was hopin’ we’d use our little sleepover to get to know each other a little better.”

“You can lay off the act,” you said suddenly, all of your anger and exhaustion just melting into a pool of unfiltered irritation.

There was a brief pause before Tyler replied, “What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s no audience in here– no team members watching, no YouTube subscribers viewing us. You don’t have to pretend to be all sweet and charming.”

“I wasn’t aware I was pretending–”

“Oh cut the shit, Tyler. You love to drive me crazy me– just admit it. And it's probably my fault for letting you get to me so easily. But I mean, c'mon, was it your plan all along to just get me to share a room with you so you could keep me up all night getting to know me better?”

He let out a huff of air that sounded frustrated, as opposed to his usual amusement. “You’re something else, Y/N, you know that?”

You were caught off guard by Tyler’s use of your actual name. He always resorted to nicknames– either sweetheart or the town he knew you were from. In fact, in the few years you’d known him, the only time he’d ever repeated your name was the first time you told it to him.

You sat up in bed and finally turned to face him– trying to gauge his demeanor.

“I offer you a room– I didn’t have to do that, you know? And believe it or not, I didn’t offer it to you just to make your life miserable. I did it because I didn’t like the idea of you sleepin’ in your car alone–” he shook his head. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Goodnight.”

Before you could even think of a reply, Tyler was peeling back the covers of his own bed and crawling in. He laid on his left side, back facing you.

You stayed in place for a moment, too stunned to move or speak or do much of anything.

Eventually, you laid back down, trying your best to deny the pool of guilt spreading through your stomach.

…

With one arm you held on to your sister's hand as hard as you could– feeling the muscles in your shoulder strain and pop as you did.

“Hold on!” you shouted, pleading with her not to let go.

With your other hand, you were clinging to the handle on the storm shelter door. Somehow it had managed to pop open after the two of you had escaped inside.

She looked down at you, her body suspended in the air– nothing but sheer, unfiltered terror reflecting in her round-rimmed glasses.

“C’mon!” you screamed.

“Please–” she gasped. “Please don’t let me go!”

“I got you!” you screamed, but you could feel that your grip on her clammy hand wasn’t as tight as it needed to be. “No–” you yelled.

“Don’t let me go–” she repeated, nails digging into your skin desperately.

But you didn’t even have time to adjust your grip before she was slipping away– in the end, the winds won.

In the blink of an eye, her body was being sucked away from you– further and further into the dark storm clouds barreling your way.

“No!” you screamed, reaching for the spot her body was moments before. “No!”

But then you felt your own grip slipping on the door handle and you knew you needed both hands to hold on if you wanted to survive. So, using all your strength– you dragged yourself to the bottom of the storm shelter. You found the safest corner– next to some old piping to curl up.

The whole time the storm raged on above you– you couldn’t stop screaming. So, you squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your forehead against your knees, making yourself as small as possible. And then, with everything you had left, you wound your arms around the piping and held on like your life depended on it… because it did.

…

Your name sounded so distant when you heard someone calling it– like it was miles away. Then, vaguely, it came more into focus as it was called again.

The third time, it was right next to you– and it was familiar… but you didn’t dare to look up. What if the storm was still raging outside? What if it took you next?

Hands gripped your shoulders– causing you to jolt awake.

Your eyes shot open as you pulled yourself from your nightmare. Tyler was sitting on the edge of your bed, his mouth hung open, like he was out of breath.

“Tyler?” you croaked, attempting to sit up from the mattress.

“You’re okay,” he said instantly. “You’re okay– you’re safe.”

Once you had managed to sit up, you studied Tyler’s face for a moment, trying desperately to gauge if any of this was real. Despite the darkness around you, you could still make out every feature– every crease, every freckle, every single piece of stubble that made up his shaved beard. And as much as you’d admired Tyler’s face in the last few years, even you knew that you couldn’t have been that detailed in your imagination.

You wanted to ask what the hell he was doing there– how he had gotten in her room, when all of a sudden, the same memories that had plagued you in your dream resurfaced in your mind.

The sight of the EF4 tornado that destroyed every inch of your childhood home. The image of your sister’s terrified face– right before she was ripped from your grasp. The sound of her scream, dissipating with the raging winds.

“Easy, sweetheart,” Tyler soothed.

You turned to face him– Tyler was here because he’d let you share his room… because he was way kinder than you ever gave him credit for. And now he was here– witnessing you completely falling apart.

Tyler’s lips began moving– he was talking. But despite the vague comfort from his tone of voice, you couldn’t really make out what he was saying. It was like the winds were still raging around you– muffling everything.

You felt like your heart might just beat out of your chest– maybe that was the tornado working to rip it from your skin.

“Hey–” a voice… no, not a voice. Tyler’s voice, said. “You gotta breathe.”

What was he talking about? You were breathing– of course you were breathing. Unless... unless the tornado ripped out your lungs instead of your heart. And now that you thought about it, no, actually, you weren’t breathing. You tried to inhale in, but the air wouldn’t come. You gasped, chest tightening while you began to tremble.

Your lungs weren’t in your chest– your lungs flew away– just like your sister.

Firm, rough hands cupped both of your cheeks, forcing you to look forward. You were met by Tyler’s green eyes, currently blown open and wide with worry.

“Breathe, baby,” he instructed. “With me– look.”

Baby, you thought. That was a new one. You didn’t hate it nearly as much as you hated sweetheart.

You watched desperately as Tyler inhaled and exhaled exaggeratedly, like he was hoping you’d follow along.

You tried. Really, you did.

Your wide, desperate eyes met his. But instead of following along, all you could do was imagine what your sister’s body had looked like after being struck by debris and tossed halfway across town–

“With me,” Tyler repeated firmly, his thumb stroking across the surface of your cheek gently. You leaned into his touch, craving comfort.

Tyler continued producing loud and deliberate, slow and calming breaths. After a few seconds, you latched onto the sound, mimicking it, and following along the best that you could.

Your shoulders relaxed slightly when you realized that you could actually breathe– which meant that EF5 hadn’t actually ripped them out of your chest.

Tyler’s brushed a loose strand of hair from your face. “There you go,” he whispered.

“Did I wake you up?” you asked quietly, feeling even guiltier than you had for snapping at him all night.

He hesitated– like he was actually debating on lying to you or not.

“Was I screaming?”

“I mean, a little bit–”

You nodded before letting your gaze fall to your lap, where you began picking harshly at an old hangnail, a feeble attempt to distract yourself.

“Do you–” Tyler began. “Do you have those nightmares often?”

Now it was your turn to contemplate lying. But then you remembered what an absolute jerk you’d been to Tyler all night, and figured you at least owed him the truth.

“Yeah,” you said. “That’s partially why I wanted to sleep in the truck.”

Tyler smiled softly. “And here I was thinking it was because you hated me so much.”

“I’m sorry–” you began, voice shaking slightly. “I know I can be a jerk.”

One of Tyler’s eyebrows shot up like he was surprised.

“What?” you asked.

“No it’s just… that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you apologize.”

“What can I say?” you mumbled, trying to make light of things. “You seem to always see the worst versions of myself.”

Tyler’s gaze softened, like he knew you were talking about more than your lack of apologies. After a moment he sighed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Glancing up, you hesitated. Your heart had just stopped pounding in your chest, but the thought of talking about what had happened in your home just a few short years ago made it speed up again.

“You don’t have to–” Tyler said quickly.

“No– it’s just…” your voice faltered. “I just haven’t really talked about it.”

Tyler was patient. He stayed still on the edge of your bed and waited for you to be ready. After you sorted through some of the thoughts in your head you whispered, “You know I’ve been chasing in Oklahoma since I was a teenager?”

Tyler’s face lit up in surprise.

“It’s true. I took a few years off… and when I came back, I was upset to see Oklahoma had a new storm chaser. One that everyone seemed to like more than me,” you admitted. You weren’t sure why this was all flowing out so freely, but even you had to admit that it felt nice to be honest. “That’s why I’ve been so mean to you, I think. It felt like you were encroaching on my turf. And then you showed up with your fancy truck– and all your gear, and I suppose I just felt a little jealous.”

Tyler nodded in understanding. “Why’d you take a few years off?”

Your voice caught in your throat. Only when you hung your head did you feel confident enough to answer. “Remember that EF5 that hit Logan County a few years back?”

Tyler nodded.

“My family’s farm was in Logan County. My parents were away– on a weekend trip to Colorado to see family. But I’d convinced my sister to stay home with me, because I didn’t want to go,” the words that were your mouth suddenly didn’t feel like yours. And the trembling hands in your lap didn’t feel like yours either.

“The storm turned last minute. We barely had any warning. But I grabbed my sister– and we ran to the storm shelter. We made it, too– but then the door ripped open. When she went to shut it…” your voice trailed off. “Well you can use your imagination for the rest.”

You finally gathered up enough courage to glance up at Tyler. His eyes were fixated on you– sadness and sympathy plastered all over his face. “I’m so sorry,” he said genuinely.

“Yeah, well…” you said weakly. “The worst part is– I think I remember locking the storm shelter door– but I wonder every single day of my life if I accidentally forgot. Which… I mean, convincing her to stay home already makes it partially my fault. But I can write that one off– and remind myself I didn’t know what was going to happen. But forgetting to lock the storm shelter?” you sighed. “That would be a harder one to forgive myself for.”

Tyler scooted closer towards you on the bed. He raised his hand– he was reaching out to comfort you. But then he pulled back, like he thought better. You were surprised by how disappointed that made you.

“It’s not your fault–” Tyler assured you.

It was the same thing your parents had said your whole life– so why couldn’t you believe it?

“I guess it doesn't really matter whose fault it was,” you said. “She’s gone and I’m not. I took a few years off from chasing because I just couldn’t… I couldn’t get myself in the right headspace for it. Every time I saw a cell forming, I’d panic– and I’d want to run from it, not chase it. Things are better now… but every once and a while, I still run. Like today,” you admitted. “I knew the winds changed. I knew the one to the east was gonna die out. That’s why I chose it.”

Tyler sighed. “And then I gave you shit for it,” he said, remorse in his tone. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too,” you admitted. “And I’m really grateful you let me crash in your room. I think if I’d been screamin’ like that in my car, it would’ve caused quite the scene.”

Tyler’s lips tugged into a gentle smile. “I told you I didn’t mind sharing when it came to you. Plus, I learned more about you during our little sleepover than I have in the last few years chasin’ next to you.”

“Yeah, well…” you mumbled. “Don’t get used to it.”

Tyler smirked. “Does that mean you’re going to go back to hating me tomorrow, when we’re no longer roommates? Or have I finally cracked through that tough ole shell of yours?”

“You keep offerin’ me motel rooms for free and I’ll be an open book,” you laughed.

Tyler nodded, like he was storing that offer for later.

“Hey, I don’t know about you,” he said, suddenly clapping his thighs before standing up. “But all that screaming got me wide awake. You hungry? I’m buying.”

He held out his hand– waiting for you to take it.

“Are you offering me a room and dinner in one night?” you teased.

“And all you had to do was reveal your deepest, darkest secrets and traumas to me,” Tyler smirked.

“Tyler Owens, you’re too easy,” you said, gladly taking his outstretched hand.

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hederasgarden · 2 months

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Like Oil and Water

Summary: Your office power struggle with Scott comes to a head. Paring: Scott (Twisters) x F!Scientist!Reader Word Count: 2.1K Rating: Mature, 18+ only. Enemies to lovers trope, PIV sex, fingering, and dirty talk. Slight angst. A/N: The story is based on this ask I received. I know there are like…five Scott fans out there besides me so I hope y’all like this. I have no explanation for this fic except I’m horny for Scott. I had an alternative ending to this story but whoops feelings crept in. Thank you to @ryebecca, @whatblogisthis216 and @a-reader-and-a-writer for looking this over. The snazzy summary is courtesy of @writercole.

Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

David Corenswet Characters Masterlist

“I’m never picking up your coffee order again,” Javi swears, handing the Starbucks cup to you. “Whatever happened to coffee with a little bit of cream?”

“Capitalism,” you reply, taking a sip. It wasn’t exactly how you liked it, missing that deep caramel flavor, but you appreciate Javi’s effort. “Thanks again.”

He nods, drinking from his cup as you make your way down to the labs, discussing the results from the latest test.

“We will need to adjust the relays, but other than that, I think we’re in good shape,” you tell him. “I’ll let the techs know we need those changes made this week.”

“Sounds good. I gotta make a quick call, but I’ll join you after,” Javi promises, disappearing into his office while you make your way down the hall.

You hear the low timber of Scott's voice before you spot him in conversation with one of the female techs. You loathe to admit it but he looks good, his tanned forearms on display with the sleeves of his white company shirt rolled up. The baseball cap tucked into his back pocket and dusty boots let you know he probably came straight from the field.

"We need to fix the relays. They failed the test. Again. That's unacceptable," he begins, gearing up for another one of his infamous lectures. "Back when I was at MIT, this type of calibration was the first thing we were taught."

Scott may have been one of the smartest guys on Javi’s team but he was also a smug asshole. From the moment you met him, he irritated you, reminding you of every man who thought he was smarter and better than you just because of his gender. Everyone expected engineers to be difficult to work with, but Scott took it to another level. Who could blame you for taking him down a peg or two when you had the chance?

"So you went to MIT. Big whoop," you begin, delighted to see Scott tense up at the sound of your voice. When he turns to face you, the tech is quick to scurry away. "Call me when you have a PhD from a real school, like Caltech, Scotty."

He hates it when you call him that but today it's your jab about MIT that strikes a nerve. A muscle in his jaw jumps, and he exhales harshly. God, that angry look in his eye really did something for you. Too bad his looks couldn’t make up for how much of a dick he could be.

Scott practically spits your first name out, stepping into your space to loom over you. His broad shoulders and muscular build block your view of the lab. You tilt your head to look at him, fighting the urge to smile. "You really should address me as ‘doctor,’" you calmly remind him, tapping your name badge.

You arch a brow, waiting for his response but his mouth snaps shut, attention moving to something behind you.

It’s Javi.

"Come on guys," he sighs. "Play nice."

You glance over your shoulder, smiling sweetly. "I'm always nice.”

"Why are you even in the labs today?" Scott questions, glancing down at your heels.

You smooth a hand down your dress and smile. "I'm the Vice President of R&D for Storm Par. These are my labs. I belong here.”

"Dressed like that?" He scoffs.

"What, you don't like it?" You ask, turning in a slow circle.

"We had a meeting with some new investors," Javi supplies, trying to cut off the start of another fight between the two of you.

Scott turns away and you can practically hear his teeth grinding together. He still hasn’t forgiven you for talking Javi out of letting his uncle invest in the company. It would have been easy money but you never liked the business plan. It was best to stick with government grants and investors without any personal connections.

Javi touches your arm. “Come on, we gotta finish that grant.”

You hum in agreement, trailing behind him to the doorway. Pausing, you glance back and catch Scott watching you, his lips pressed into a thin line. With a grin, you wiggle your fingers at him, amused to see the furrow in his brow deepen even further.

The rest of your day is blessedly Scott-free and you spend your time buried in meetings and wading through needlessly complicated grant submissions. Javi employed some of the smartest people you’ve ever had the privilege of working with but they were terrible when it came to making the science digestible to investors. You sigh, rubbing your temples. It was going to be a long night.

You work uninterrupted, buried in the complexities of the grant, until Scott storms into your office, slamming the door behind him. “Did you tell the techs they could go home early?” he demands.

“Please, do come in,” you deadpan, setting aside the papers you’re holding.

“Did you send them home?” He repeats, rounding your desk and invading your personal space. At his side, his hands are clenched into fists, the veins in his neck standing out.

“I did.” You rise to your full height but even in heels, he dwarfs you.

“That wasn’t your call.”

“You do remember my job title, right?”

“I’m VP of Operations,” he reminds you. “I say when they go home, especially when we’re on a deadline.”

“They report to me, and you’ve had them working long hours,” you fire back.

He shakes his head, crossing his arms tightly across his chest, as he gives you an unimpressed look. “You’re too soft on them. I told Javi you weren’t right for this job. This isn’t academia. We work hard here.”

You bristle at his words, clenching your fist so tightly that your nails dig into the soft skin of your palm. He has no idea what it took for you to get here, the challenges you faced, or the men like him you had to prove yourself to.

“Go fuck yourself, Scott.”

You glare up at him, chest rising and falling rapidly. You wait, ready for whatever asshole comment is sure to come but he just stares at you. Then, to your surprise, his gaze drops to your mouth. You freeze, electricity zipping up your spine when you realize you’re close enough for your chest to brush his as you exhale. Looking back, you won't remember the impulse that led you to tilt your head and press your lips to his, only that you did.

The kiss only lasts a second before you pull away, heart pounding in your chest. For a moment, neither of you moves, but then suddenly he surges forward, his large hand grasping the side of your face. His lips crash into yours roughly. A hand at your hip urges you back until you bump your desk but he doesn’t stop until he’s practically dragged you on top of it. He presses in close, eating up what little space remains. You groan, grasping at his shirt as you push your hips into his.

“Fuck,” he pants, resting his forehead against yours as his warm breath fans across your face. For one terrible second, you think he might stop or say something stupid to ruin the moment but then he’s kissing you again. He forces a hand between your bodies and roughly pulls your underwear aside so his fingers can drag through your folds. You’d be shocked by how fast it’s all happening but any higher thought fizzles out once his thumb circles your clit and his tongue breaks the seam of your lips to taste you.

You’re breathless when he pulls away, back arching in response to his talented fingers. Through your lashes you see him smirk down at you. “No smart comebacks now?” He questions.

Before you can retort he adds a second finger. You moan, rolling your hips to seek more of him. “Knew you’d be fucking greedy,” he whispers.

He watches you fuck yourself on his hand with a hungry glint in his eyes until your pace slows. He glanced at your face. You rise up on your elbows, brow raised. “Am I going to do all the work here?”

“Shut up,” he growls, withdrawing his fingers.

A witty comeback is on the tip of your tongue but it dies when Scott brings his fingers to his mouth. He stares down at you while he sucks them clean, his Adam's apple bobbing. Your stomach clenches hard at the sight.

“That’s better,” he comments, unbuckling his belt. “Nice and quiet.”

He takes a condom from his wallet and rolls it on his thick length. If there was ever a time to stop, it’s now. You look at Scott, his dark gaze swimming with desire and push the thought away, rising up to kiss him. The blunt head of his cock nudges your entrance and you lift your hips. You relish the way he looks, dark hair curling over his sweaty forehead and his body straining for you. Knowing you’ve done this to him sends a rush of want through you.

Scott pushes inside slowly, hissing as your wet heat envelopes him until he’s halfway in and then he snaps his hips forward unexpectedly. Your breath leaves your lungs in a rush. He falls forward and the weight of him is electrifying. You’d be embarrassed at the desperate little sounds his mouth swallows up if he didn’t feel so damn good.

He fucks with an intense kind of precision you’ve seen him bring to his work, reaching deep inside you to hit all the right places. You bury your fingers in his dark hair and pull, eliciting a needy moan from the irritatingly talented man above you.

“You gonna come for me?” He asks, breathless.

A desperate little, please, slips past your lips without your permission, spurring him on. He hooks a hand under your knee and forces your leg into your chest as he keeps up his frantic pace. The new angle takes him even deeper and pleasure ripples through your stomach. He feels unbelievably good and you practically sob when he pulls back and rises to his full height, afraid he’s going to stop. But he doesn’t, grasping your hips with both hands and forcing you to meet his thrusts.

You’re tantalizing close and, without thinking, you reach down to help yourself along but Scott is quick to slap your hand away, replacing it with his own.

“That’s mine,” he growls, the rough pad of his thumb catching on the sensitive skin. He watches with rapt attention as his cock and fingers work in tandem to drive you over the edge. You come with his name on your lips.

“Fuck, just like that,” he gasps.

Before you can recover your breath, he leans down and kisses you, his weight pressing you into the desk as his hips move relentlessly. Then he shoves himself deep inside and stills, groaning. Your ears ring and your body buzzes with the aftershocks of your own orgasm. The two of you stay like that, intertwined and panting until, finally, Scott moves.

Cool air rushes between your bodies and you stare up at him. You can see him thinking in real time, his clever gaze searching your face as he continues to process what happened. What could either of you possibly say after this? Nothing good you realize.

“Don’t,” you whisper, finger pressed to his lips. “Don’t ruin it.”

Scott closes his eyes and swallows hard. Then he's moving, slipping out of you with a grunt. He turns away from you, redressing. The clink of his belt buckle is loud in the quiet office. Pressing your fingers to your swollen lips, you take a moment to let yourself feel everything before pushing it aside and standing on unsteady legs.

You fix your appearance the best you can and busy yourself with shuffling the mess of papers strewn everywhere. It might be cowardly, but you keep your gaze fixed on your desk when you hear the door creak open. You wait, the minutes dragging by until you know it’s safe to look up, only to find Scott still there.

He lingers in the doorway, his gaze fixed on you.

Then you blink and he’s gone.

♡

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#scott #twisters #twisters fic #twisters fanfic #scott twisters #scott x reader #scott x you #scott miller x reader #scott miller x you

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hotyanderedaddies · 6 months

Text

The School Bully Loves You, Pt. 4:

Yandere Bully Interrupts Your "Date"

Part 0 │ Part 1 │ Part 2 │ Part 3

[Yandere! Bully x GN Nerd! Reader]

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

Jonathan was a nice guy, you figured.

The quarterback of the football team was always all smiles, and he seemed to never treat you differently despite being way higher up on the social ladder. Therefore, you sort of liked to tutor him. Not only did it feel like you were sometimes hanging out with a close friend, but it also made you feel good deep down that a guy was paying you some attention... even if it was just for school. But still.

And plus, you figured that he could potentially protect you from Blake.

Seriously, it was crystal clear that Jonathan lived in the gym after school, given his large muscles and athletic prowess.

Blake is muscular too, but he tends to hide his bulk underneath his leather jacket.

But still!

You tried your best to force your mind away from Blake as you and Jonathan pulled into the parking lot of a local diner. It was a small place where the two of you could be uninterrupted during your study session. It was one of the few local spots where Jonathan would treat you as payment for tutoring him, and you'd always order something sweet and tasty!

The two of you took your seats at one of the booths near the back, and your eyes stayed glued to the door. The constant fear of Blake finding you kept you on edge, and you found it hard to stay present with your brain always straying back to the bully.

You mentally berated yourself, annoyed that you kept thinking about Blake.

He'd claimed you as his, and you'd gotten three strikes.

Both of those spelt trouble in your mind, and you wanted nothing more than to avoid the guy. Therefore, you figured that being away from school with someone big who could protect you was the best course of action.

Jonathan and you placed your orders and tried to start the tutoring session, but it was close to impossible for you to get your nerves settled.

"Is something on your mind?" the jock finally asked when he'd noticed you staring nervously at the door for the millionth time.

"O-oh!" you mumbled, jerking out of your panicked daze. "I'm sorry, I'm just a little... distracted." You sheepishly smiled at the end of your statement, hoping that the jock wouldn't catch onto you inadvertently using him as protection.

Jonathan pursed his lips into a thin line, deep in thought. "So," he slowly asked, shrugging his broad shoulders, "is it Blake?"

You jerked back in your seat, shocked. "Wh-what do you mean?" you stuttered, trying your best to force an innocent smile onto your face.

Jonathan scrunched up his face in confusion. "Oh, my bad," he muttered. "I just thought that you two were having couple problems."

"'Couple problems'?" you repeated.

Jonathan shrugged again. "Well, yeah," he grunted. "I mean, by the way Blake talks about you, I thought the two of you were dating..."

"The way he talks about me?" you repeated again, feeling yourself go pale at the words you heard.

Never in your life would you have ever expected Blake to talk about you in any sort of positive manner. You always tried to avoid him like the plague, hence you'd preferred if he didn't know that you existed. But if he were to talk about you, you half-expected him to curse your name and call you the scum of the earth given how badly he's beaten people up all around you.

Thinking about it, there were several of Blake's victims you knew personally:

Kyle, the bully who's stolen your lunch money back in the sixth grade. He'd gotten his face beaten to a pulp, causing his nose to be a little crooked now.

Tristan, the guy who'd called you ugly on picture day. Blake had based his face so hard that his front teeth had been knocked out, totally ruining his picture.

Cesar, the douche who'd smashed your science project to smithereens for a YouTube prank. Well, Blake had filmed himself stomping him in the nuts, posting it to Cesar's now defunct account.

Wait...

"Wh-what has Blake said... about me?" you asked, feeling your heart fall to the floor as you thought everything over. It all had to be a coincidence, right?

The waitress delivered your food, distracting the jock for a second as he began to eat his fries. "Oh, um, he says lots of things about you," he mumbled, his mouth full of food.

That didn't really help.

"Like what?" you pressed.

The jock took a loud gulp of his soda. "Well, he says that he--"

He was cut off by the loud slamming of the front door. The both of you were altered to the booming noise, making you both flinch as you turned to see none other than Blake enter the tiny diner.

The bully's eyes scanned the area before landing on you, narrowing in your direction.

Uh-oh...

To be continued...

·゜·:.。..。.:·☆·゜·:.。..。.:·☆

I'm sorry about the lack of tagging people! I'm forever and always appreciative of everyone's interest in this story. Unfortunately, I just can't tag everyone at the moment. I apologize and hope you all understand!

#yandere boyfriend #yandere boy #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere daddy #obsessive love #possessive boyfriend #yandere bully #yandere bad boy #yandere bad boy x you #bad boy x nerd #bad boy #blake the bully #my oc #Blake

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divinehedons · 1 year

Text

you're losing me.

navigation: how reader broke her ankle

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

word count: ~4.2k words

summary: at one point, you think you've found something with joel. a moment of peace, a fragment of joy. now, you're not so sure.

warnings: this is an explicit fic, minors DO NOT INTERACT! hurt/comfort fic, LOTS of angst i'msosorry, implied age gap (somewhat mentioned here and there), a play on the miscommunication trope with an uncommunicative joel, angsty make up sex, explicit p-in-v sex, oral sex (f receiving), anal sex, aftercare, occurs somewhere after the events of season 1.

a/n: i'm incredibly thankful for all the love this fledgeling little hedonist got from such a community. thank you so so much for reading!

likes, comments, and reblogs much appreciated! please let me know if you have any requests, just shoot an ask and i'm certain to see it!

Life, as you imagined it in the days that came after, was much simpler before you and Joel arrived in Jackson. It was a description you settled on, long after you’ve combed through your mind’s vocabulary, through the haze and vertigo of heartbreak. Easier was simply a lie. Nothing was nice nor easy in those autocracies from the QZs. When you look back to those days, painted only in broad strokes of inhumane bloodshed and secret dealings in the dark, he remains, nevertheless, at the center of the shell of empires you had once deemed eternal. Your gruff, quiet Joel, with bloodstained fists and sharp eyes, always strong to rage battle with the days and emerge victorious.

Perhaps life was easier pre-Jackson because you and Joel never truly defined what you had back then. You lived next door to him. You suggested he hid his contraband with you because, God, why would they ever search there? You still try and figure out when the fucking started. When you stopped sleeping in your bed and started waking up in his. Whenever it was, shortly thereafter, you followed him in his dealings, tried to look for some damn car battery that seemed to excite him so much.

You remember waking up at dawn one morning, drenched in sweat as the shadows receded in your mind, his hand on your shoulder as his eyes searched yours. You don’t remember the nightmare, you remember the panic in his eyes. “You good, darlin’?” You’d nod and watch him open a window. It was autumn, you remembered, and the breeze cooled your burning skin.

“Who’s the guy I’m meeting today?” you tried to ask, sitting up in his bed and watching the way his eyes seemed to look at anywhere but you. You tried to ignore the subtle way his brows furrowed, the grinding of his jaw. “Talk me over the plan again.” When he returned to you, his hands pull you down by your legs, spreading you wide open as his mouth kisses the questions out of your mouth.

“We’re not talkin’ ‘bout business when I can still have you for a few hours, sweetheart.”

So he’d take you, with your neck stinging from razor burn, legs thrown over his shoulders, his shirt which you wore pushed up while he bites your nipples as his hard cock dives into you in one languid thrust, moans reverberating from the both of you at the feeling.

When Joel fucks, he does so with the candour of a greedy child in a candy shoppe. He takes whatever he can get. You still remember the aftermath of when he first fucked you, one that broke a few years of celibacy, according to the man himself. You remembered the teeth marks, the broken skin, burst capillaries, and fingerprints imprinted wherever he felt the need to. He had been bashful, then, muttering about how he didn’t mean to be so rough. You remembered laughing and pressing his fingers to your aching cunt, smiling at him. You were still wet. He hardens there and then.

Even when you were neck deep in each other’s affections, he never quite lost that eagerness. You remembered that morning because you remember gushing against his cock. You remembered it because it was the morning you realised it was never like this with anyone else. Actually, you realised as his hips stutter and the familiar warmth of his spend fills you, since Joel, there had never been anyone else.

Perhaps everything was simpler then, when you look back at it. You’d fuck, wash up, go do your jobs for some rations. Sometimes he’d nod at you from across the street, and you wouldn’t see him again until he knocks on your door at night, taking you by the hand and pulling you into the night. You always stood in his corner, kicking and punching with so much vigor that he’d chuckle and mutter something about the “youth, nowadays”. He’d wash the blood from your hands, wrap you up in bandages, and tell you to not be so reckless next time. You never really listened.

Sometimes, when an exchange ends early, he’ll take you to some empty building, tell you about some renovation of one decade or another. You’d laugh and climb over him, chasing to get a taste of his cock in your mouth. You never addressed the elephant in the room, never asked what you meant to him.

It was the unspoken rule, however, that there was never going to be anything that came between the two of you. By hell or high water. He walked you home every night you did your business, even if he still had things to do. He never forgot to hand you a share of meat whenever it came his way, sometimes finding you wherever you were stationed that day just to slip it in your hands without speaking.

It was the same rule that prevailed when he woke you one night, telling you he’s leaving. You packed a bag, shook hands with the kid he was with, and followed.

No questions asked. Through hell and high water.

–

Somewhere between those days and arriving in Jackson, he does start talking more. You learn about Sarah, the worries he tries not to tell anyone, the pain in his bones.

In easy silences while the kid slept and vulnerability left you both awake, isolation made you complacent, vulnerable. It made you believe something good still existed in this world. It made you believe you and Joel could survive unscathed from the same love that had burnt others.

“Stay with me,” he whispers in the cradle of darkness, hand on the trigger as he watches you pace back and forth, trying to tire yourself enough. You look at him, blinking momentarily as you try to comprehend as to whether or not you imagined the words from his mouth. “When we get out of here–if we get out of here–promise me you’ll stay with me.”

Of course you will. That was how you ended up in Jackson, too.

Looking back, when you try and trace everything back to a singular point in space and time when the end of all things began, it began when you stand in stunned silence, watching what seemed to be a sanctuary in the midst of mortal damnation. Laughing children, playing, men lifting, hammering, building. People chattering in the street. The tipping point, however, was none of that. The tipping point was Joel recognising his brother from the crowd and embracing him with a smile you had never seen on your face before.

For a moment, you feel guilt— you knew how long Joel had wanted to see Tommy. You knew, too, that this had been everything he had worked towards for. It warms you, to finally know Joel was still human, after all. At least for a moment. Then the uncomfortable thoughts trickle in.

Perhaps, you thought once in a microsecond, perhaps you just weren't enough for him to be that open with you.

Just like that, the isolated bubble from which you had adored, and perhaps (definitely) even loved Joel, dissolves, leaving you exposed, vulnerable, and somewhat alone in a sea of people. You supposed Ellie felt it too, from the way she held on to your arm, worrying you’ll disappear too.

“I’m here, kid,” you murmur as you pretend not to see. “You’re all good.”

Even when your little group left and came back from the Fireflies, even when Joel pulls you out of a burning building and kills men for you, you can’t shake off the feeling. Can’t shake the knowledge that you weren’t as important to him. Not even a little, not even at all. You swallow it whenever he pushes aside your underwear and lets you take his fingers. You ignore that itching feeling when you take him for yourself, seating yourself on his lap and fucking him needingly, kissing him as if his lips were everything you needed, chasing your orgasms with the same greed you had in those early days.

Sometimes, you couldn’t stop it.

“Tell me you want me, Joel,” you whisper, fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, pulling, teeth gnashing.

“‘Course I fuckin’ want you, peach. This fuckin’ cunt is all mine.” He’d flip you over, lay you on your stomach, fucking up into you as your back arches and your eyes roll back in the sweet symphony of skin on skin on skin. “No one else knows how to even make you feel as good as I do.” His fingers would reach down. Thumb and forefinger. Pinching your clit until a squeal escapes you.

“Yours, Joel.” Your gasps, his grunts, the fleeting ache in your chest as these moments become less frequent, turning few and far in between. “Yours, yours, yours.”

–

It all comes to a head one evening, over some stupid argument. Even now, when all is said and done, you can’t seem to remember the trigger that set things off. When you think of that night, only a fragment of the conversation comes to mind.

“The truth is, Joel, I just don’t know what we are,” you had been saying, separating from him like shrapnel. “I used to stupidly think that maybe you wanted me to stay because you were working up some fucking courage to do something about us.” He looks at you wide-eyed, pupils blown. You could hear his thoughts from that distance. Where was all this coming from?

“It never mattered t’you before,” he muttered, leaning against the wooden table as his eyes bore down on you. A beat drops, and he is striding towards you, taking your shoulders in his gruff hands as his tired gaze met yours. ”I don’t understand, why the fuck are you tellin’ me this now?”

I know you don’t. I never asked you to.

For a moment, you struggled in his arms. The feeling of his fingers against your skin was too much. It felt too close, too intimate, too little, and nothing all at once. You whine, trying to avoid his gaze and control your tongue before it is you who eventually did ruin things.

Just tell me. What’s in that head of yours?

“Because you never touch me anymore!” Your small fists, his broad chest, hitting what you could as you finally sob and tear yourself away from me. “I’m glad for you, I really am. But you barely even look at me anymore!” When you did free yourself, your feet take you backwards by a few steps, just enough to see the quirk of his lips at your confession. “But God, it makes me feel so fucking small- like I’ve turned into some nagging bitch, the shrew at home.” You hiccup once, twice. You see him about to speak and you jump in again. “It’s like you found your life and I never had a place in it, so you forgot me.”

The last confession lay on your lips, escaping before you could stop it. “Like I was never enough for you, Joel.”

Your back hits the wall as you look him in the eye, eyes blurred from the onslaught of tears that finally stop you. “I have always stood by your side, I’ve followed you blindly across this fucking wasteland. I never asked for anything, never wanted anything but you, and yet…” You wait for Joel. As you always have. You wait for him to say something. Anything that might finally end your misery. When he doesn’t, you wait for him to do something.

You sigh. “I… I lo-”

“I’ve had enough of this,” he finally says, catching you off-guard as he moves away, grabbing his coat as he shakes his head. “Tommy’s waiting for me.” With that, he leaves. The pit in your stomach swallows you whole, remaining there, in the strange hallways of your memory, as the moment you finally understood the misery that walked hand in hand with love.

–

That was how you ended up with the singular backpack of your things, moving across all of Jackson and putting the entire commune between the two of you, and moving into the small apartment near the shops. You know the jobs he works, asked (almost begged, actually) for Maria to keep her as far away from him as remotely possible. And you did so before he returned from patrolling– some two day affair beyond the gates.

The first night proved impossible. In the darkness, you heard the arms of your watch ticking by as time moves ever so slowly. Without noticing it, you counted the minutes before he and Tommy should be back. You tried not to wonder if he ever thought of you on jobs like this. When all there is to kill is time. Did he ever touch himself in the darkness? Did he ever think of you touching yourself wherever you lay, too?

Then you remember his dining room. “I’ve had enough of this.” No. You know he wasn’t thinking of you.

You fuck yourself with your fingers until your wrist aches from the effort; and still yet, nothing. You cannot reach the places he does. Your hands too soft to mimic the sensation of his calloused fingers forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you. The sleep that comes, therefore, is uneasy,

You dream of him, lying beside you in the bed you shared back in the QZ, his gruff hum signalling he was awake. “You’re not happy, are you?” he whispers, and you look to him, hands reaching in the darkness.

“Of course not,” you whisper. "I’m in love with you and you don’t even want to see me.”

–

Joel sees the empty house first before he heard the news. It is only in your absence that he finally understood how empty his home was without you.

Without the books on the coffee table. Without the flowers you picked yourself. The bathroom felt barren without your little luxuries– the lotion you had found back on the road, the smell of your shampoo long evaporated from the room. His bed, most of all, felt inhuman without the shape of your frame imprinted on it.

Ellie rushed in when he stood in the living room, looking over in silence. “What the fuck happened, man? I tried to stop her but she was crying, all over the place. I don’t even fucking know how she left the place so pristine the way she was running around-”

“Where is she, kid?”

–

When he finally does see you, you look far worse off than he is. The apartment Maria pointed him to is nice, it’s warm. Bright, even. As if anywhere you go turns into a sanctuary. You’re reading when he sees you. With your back turned to him, you roll your shoulders in a way that tells him you slept wrong. If you even slept at all. The slight tilt in your gait tells him you overworked yourself and your ankle is giving you hell for it.

He leans against the doorway until eventually, he finds the strength to speak. “So you don’t even say goodbye? Some people would think it’s just good manners.” You turn around just enough for him to see the swooping shades of exhaustion beneath your eyes, tinged by the reddening of your nose, your sore eyes. You had just been crying. He could tell, even when no traces of tears are left on your skin.

Now, he waits for you. Attempts to weed out the silence as if it could tell him something.

“Ellie said you cleaned up. Thanks for that, darlin’.” He sighs, moving closer in an attempt to bridge the gap between the two of you. He doesn’t notice the way you tense, the way you prepare yourself to flee. “I found somethin’ for you, It’s out-”

“Just stop it, Joel.” He looks to you, sees the way the tears bead in your eyes before you look away, rising from your seat as you allow a shaky breath. “You said you had enough and I’m- I wanted to respect that.” He tries to hold you and your arms fly out, pushing him away before he gets too close, shaking your head. “But I can’t do it when you’re always around.”

He calls your name, and it stops you in your tracks. He says it again, and you realize why. He says your name with so much emotion, the teeth-gritting ferocity of the riptide. “It was never you that I had enough of. I can never have enough of you-” When you look at him, his brows furrow, eyes soften, reaching for you, hands on your wrists as he slowly brings you toward him. He calls your name, and for a moment, you feel as you did back in the old days of the small rooms in the QZ. You remember the whistling of the wind between the window shutters, white noise that soothed you to sleep.

His confession comes spilling forth in an uncontrollable gush. “I never wanted to make you go, peach,’ he murmurs, almost incomprehensible, rough hands pulling you against his chest as he finally breathes in that familiar scent of your hair. He smells of snow and pine–the same smell of the soap you bought for him last week. “I don’t know how to do this… to feel–” His thumbs cup your cheek as your gaze returns to his own tear-filled face. “Losing you is like cutting my fingers off, sweetheart, I can’t bear it.”

He kisses you, and you feel the desperation of a man starved. He doesn’t stop, does not want to stop. If this was a dream, he thinks, he’d rather consume you than wake up somewhere without the warmth of your skin on his. You kiss him, too, and it’s nothing like what you had before. When you kiss him in that quiet little apartment, it’s wanton, messy, your tears melting into his own, your whines swallowed and consumed before you can even actuate them. You only break apart when you feel his lips move to your cheek, his beard rubbing against you as you sniffle and tug him closer by the loops of his belt.

Joel continues to speak. In disjointed whispers, murmurings you try and decode. “Always wanted you to stay, darlin’. Always dreamt of you, always-”

“I thought you dreamt of ten-month summers,” you manage to tease between tears, catching his lips as his arms lift you, pressing you to the nearest wall to wrap your legs around his waist, thrusting his clothed cock against you. You remembered that dream particularly because it had been a miserable winter, one that he confessed to have felt in his very bones. How he grumbled then, in the silences when he thought you wouldn’t hear.

“Even with that summer, without you there, I don’t fuckin’ need it, sugar.”

You both make up that afternoon, slowly, lovingly, with him begging you to stay as he pushes your bottoms off and you promising that you will. The burning stretch of his girth makes you tear up again, just as he cups your face and soothes you through it. “Doin’ so good for me, baby. Let me make it up to you…” You let him do many things. You let him take you again. You let him regain control over himself again.

Oftentimes you wonder if uncertainty struck fear into him. Perhaps it was why he had always kept himself at an arm’s distance, even when you slept in his bed and wore his shirts. Perhaps that was why he had never allowed himself to feel. Never allowed himself to name that love he had for you.

“I love you, Joel.” The whisper comes between moans as his lips mark your neck in rough kisses, taking you again as he had taken you everytime. “I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere.” He groans at the sound of your promises, a low guttural sound, just as his lips nip at the skin of your neck, making you whine and squeal against him.

“I fuckin’ love you, peach,” he finally manages to say, hips pistoning in and out of your weeping cunt as he makes you look at him. “I could never have enough of you… fuck!” He doesn’t care if the whole of Jackson hears you, sees the two of you locked in this embrace. As long as he had you, he knows, nothing else mattered. Gently, he lets you down to turn you around, manipulating your hips as your hands keep you balanced to the wall. He sinks so easily to his knees, tongue swiping from your clit, your weeping hole, your perineum, and even up to your ass, spreading your wetness and his precome with a low chuckle. “Tell me you need me, darlin’, come on.”

You do tell him. “I need you, sir, please,” you whisper, with such gentleness that he chuckles. He loved the way your begging sounded, the way you called him sir, like you did in those shy beginnings when you could barely look him in the eye. Loved the way you whine and try to reach down to touch yourself, only for him to tsk in warning, your hand immediately returning to the wall. “Please let me cum, sir, I just want you, please!”

Finally, he indulges you. His tongue fucking you, hands spreading your asscheeks, beard digging into your skin and his nose, his nose, just teasing your asshole enough to make you clench down in expectation. He does not stop, does not pause even when you buck against him, clenching your teeth as you feel his tongue reach there, that point that makes you fucking feral, bucking until he pushes you off the edge, and continues to push you over the edge, knees weakening and trembling in the aftermath of pleasure. You thank him, louder than you’ve ever thanked any deity for each day of survival. If you were honest, you didn’t care so much about religion, about believing. Not when everything you ever believed in knelt before you, asking you if you’d let him take your ass.

You nod breathlessly, pressing your cheek against the cool wallpaper. “It’s yours, sir. It’s all yours, and you know it.”

He smirks, kissing the small of your back. His perfect, willing girl.

He slowly draws you into it, knows you’ve never done anything like this. He starts with his tongue, helping you relax around him, helping you relax when you take one finger, then another. You had never felt so empty and yet so full at the same time. You feel the walls of your cunt stretched out over nothing, your fingers digging into the plaster as he finally stands, lips pressing kisses and assurances into your shoulders. And there, just there- you feel the head of his cock entering you, your body welcoming him so willingly, without much effort nor pain.

He fucks you with renewed vigor, your moans intermingling as his hands trail on separate directions. His left hand trails from your neck, to your chest, and quickly to your nipples, pinching, tugging, His right trails from your stomach to your wanton clit, rubbing concentric circles softly and gently prolonging your pleasure to match up with his stamina. Even as he batters your walls, his lips are so gently, praising you and kissing you. “Of course I fuckin’ love you, sugar. Always fuckin’ did.”

It’s the confession, you would think later on, that pushes the both of you over the edge. You beg him to let you, and he chuckles at how needy and willing you are in his hands. “Together, baby, yeah? Come on, be a good girl and come with me.” HIs fingers intensify his efforts, so do his cock, and it’s even more easier, You feel yourself gush at nothing, his hands the only thing holding you up now as he finds his high, rolling off with you, fucking his spend deep within your ass. “Fuck, yeah. Just like that, princess. Fuck!”

You cry for him and cum even harder, clenching and collapsing, saved only by his trembling frame. It is then that you feel his teeth biting down against your skin, guttural groans escaping and reverberating against your sweat-slick skin. You call for him, hand reaching back to tug against his hair, giving him the consent to sink his teeth deeper against your flesh.

You exchange words of love, you kiss slowly, gently. Joel carries you gently to the small cot you had been resting on, his gaze scolding you for putting your body through this uncomfortable surface every night. You whine when he leaves you, but he smiles. “I’m not goin’ anywhere again, sugar. Promise.”

He makes good on that promise, returning with something to wipe you clean, slowly, gently, not wanting to make it any worse for you. He praises you, nonetheless. So good f’me, baby. My perfect girl.

You fall asleep, slowly, gently, to the same words, your hand on his, his mouth on your cheek, kissing you all over. It’s the most peace you ever felt in a long time.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

artyandink · 3 months

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amoralism | one

Summary: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

A/N - I said I’d post on Friday but surprise! Also, as a note, I have no intention of completely relating to realism (even though I’m pretty sure that’s a title of a chapter). This will be almost like an action/romance movie, and the format is sort of like that too.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Song Inspo: Shameless - Camila Cabello

narcissism

Fifty-Shots Bar had never had this many patrons before.

Clinking of glasses, the bellow of random toasts, tapping of the bar for another round, the whole trifecta played on loop until all those glasses came down on the counter and all the beefy men downing those drinks like water would slap the back of the tallest in the lot, forcing that dude with the unreasonably gorgeous hair to bend to their height from the pressure.

“What’s the occasion, boys?” The lady on shift, Jenna, chuckled. She was intrigued as to why the festivities were so… robust, but then one of the guys shoved the tall one forward, clapping his shoulder in a way that knocked the latter’s breath out.

“Ah, nothing.” The taller one tried playing it off, but the shorter wouldn’t hear of it. His green eyes shone mischievously as he ruffled the tall guy’s hair. Jenna’s eyes couldn’t help but trail down the patron’s, well, everything. Short blonde hair, five o’clock shadow on the sharpest jawline she’d ever seen. Lips always in a pout, daring her to kiss it away until they bruised. Casual denim shirt nothing short of tempting, as tight as a damn straitjacket over that broad, no doubt kissable chest. Arms framed in his sleeves, probably bore enough strength to throw her around like a ragdoll and he wouldn’t break a sweat.

She bit her lip. Oh Lord, this man was either from heaven or hell and she wouldn’t complain either way.

“It’s not nothing.” He laughed, shaking his head. “My brother Sam here took down a big-time multi level marketing scheme. So damn modest.” Another clap of Sam’s shoulder. However, he seemed to have clocked Jenna and her obvious admiration of his entire being, a quirk of the corner of his mouth having her knees like jelly. “What’s your name, beautiful?”

She giggled, her finger twirling her hair around her finger as if she was a little schoolgirl with her first crush. “Jenna. What’s yours?”

“Dean Winchester.” He took her hand, kissing her knuckle and letting his lips linger, smouldering eye contact sending shivers down her spine. “Agent Dean Winchester. Say, Jenna, what time do you get off?”

“When you do.” She breathed, and the low chuckle from Dean had her snapping back into her senses but also getting a very noticeable ache between her thighs. “Um, in an hour.”

Sam had already left. He wasn’t in the mood for watching very visible eye-banging.

Champagne. Chauvinists. The classic fancy, downtown party hosted by a family that owned half of Chicago. Flashing lights, a pair of eyes on you at all times… it was rather an overwhelming feeling, one that you couldn’t shake.

You didn’t know whether to feel confident or hunted in the red dress that you wore, satin and navy and with an open back- all things nice and very attractive to men. Your makeup and blonde (for today) hair done like a movie star and getting the attention of every man in the room, regardless of age.

“And who might you be, sweets?” A very Southern accent drawled from behind you, and you turned around, making a show of playing the innocent yet extremely attractive and mysterious lady at the most extravagant birthday party you had ever seen.

You were playing a stereotype. You hated stereotypes.

“Anna Raleigh.” You responded smoothly, and he seemed to buy it, taking your hand and kissing the knuckle, the creepy eye contact urging you to snatch your hand back and scrub it with an antiseptic wipe.

“Miss Raleigh, you are a work of art. Name’s Matthias Aldrich.” He practically purred, and that sent a cold shiver up your spine.

You put on a polite, smitten smile, though you were inwardly rolling your eyes. “Thank you, sir.”

Matthias tucked a strand of your blonde hair behind your ear. “I’ve always been fond of women who are the golden type of blonde. Hope this is natural.”

You took a crouton from a passing tray, popping it in your mouth and chewing on it, answering once you’d swallowed the bite. You’d done it quick because you could see this dude’s eyes on your lips as you chewed. “I say, these croutons are quite dry, no?”

The door to Jenna’s apartment burst open, her and Dean stumbled in, lips locked, door closing with a well-timed click and moans echoing amid breathy sighs. Dean’s jacket fell just as Jenna’s fingers tugged on his hair, causing him to jolt and let out a growl, groaning as he bent to kiss her neck. “Just like that.” He murmured, nipping and assaulting the tanned skin. Only detaching to pull her skimpy tank over her head, revealing a hot pink, lace bra.

She’s freaky. He liked that.

“You like?” She breathed, ample chest heaving as her teeth worried her bottom lip, batting her eyelashes. Putting on a show for him.

“Mmh.” He hummed, nodding before he reached for the clasp, effortlessly undoing it. It fell to the floor, and he clicked his tongue with a grin. “Better.”

“Much.” She purred, kissing him hotly and leading them to the bedroom.

Pushing.

Pulling.

Grinding.

Jenna’s legs wrapping around his waist, courtesy of Dean putting them there. Moans. Groans. Whimpers. Cries and low mutters of each other’s name. The room heating up and pulsing with enough pressure to forge a diamond.

The bed creaking. Headboard banging. High pitched moans that belong in a porno. Groans of ‘just like that’ and whines of ‘right there’ and ‘don’t stop’.

Not even after a minute after your comment about the dry croutons, the building was stormed. Armed personnel burst through every exit, holding up automatics and yelling for everyone to get their hands up, while you were taken by the arm by one of the people yelling ‘FBI! Hands where we can see them!’ and dragged in a way which appeared rough.

You were led kicking and screaming into a side van, and the moment the door slid shut, you snapped out of it, pulling the wig off. “About time, eh, boys?”

“At least we got your signal.” One protested, while another snorted.

“Dry croutons? Really?” He rolled his eyes, spinning on the chair, raising a pointed eyebrow at you. “With all due respect, it could be something less outlandish.”

“Then it would be too easy to miss, Velasquez.” You retorted, grabbing a makeup wipe and beginning to practically scrub it all off. Also taking an antiseptic wipe and a bottle of hand sanitizer to rid your hand of Matthias Aldrich’s lips. “And since when do I work like I’m a basic, sweater wearing, background blending Gertrude?”

“She has a point, Velasquez.” One agent quipped as he went by. You pointed after him with a smirk.

“Willis gets it.” You grinned, shrugging. “Why can’t you? Have a heart, Velasquez.”

“Yeah, have a heart.”

“Shut up!” Velasquez yelled after him, and got the middle finger from Willis in response.

“You ready to report to the CO, Agent?” Willis asked you, passing you a mug of coffee, which you gratefully sipped.

“When am I not?” You chuckled, letting the warm liquid wash over your throat. “Now, I don’t care what you two clowns do, I need these guys behind bars for two lifers at least. I’ve been hunting down these sons of bad mothers for months. I’m not having any slip ups, no buy ins nor outs. Every. Exit. Sealed.” You looked between the two with an intense glare, no nonsense and all business. “Am I clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Morning afters were always hard for Dean. He had a rule that he followed to the T.

Mind blowing sex? Doesn’t matter, leave before he gets attached and she gets hurt.

“Sorry, Jen, I’d stay, but I’m late for work.” He hurriedly buttoned his denim shirt, trying not to get distracted by the sight of the girl in the sheets, naked body only a thin layer of cotton away.

All he had to do was peel it.

“Aw, handsome, I thought you’d stay for round six.” Jenna giggled, looking him up and down. Inside, Dean was rolling his eyes in frustration. They always got clingy after the best night of their life. Then again, that was purely his fault.

“I would, trust me, darlin’.” He cleared his throat, walking into the living room and finding his jacket and keys, along with his belt. That was important.

Jenna stepped in as well, clad in a silk robe that made her look no short of delectable. But he had to resist. Stick to the damn code. “Y’know, I’m a sucker for a man in uniform.”

She was trying a hit. God, she was trying hard. Dean had to physically resist going back for another hit. She was clingy, sure, but there was a huge double standard there.

“Are you, now?” He smirked, running a hand through his messy hair. “Careful, sweetheart, or I might sextuple dip.”

“Maybe I want you to.” She winked, and it had him chuckling, looking down and then back at her.

“Tempting. Very tempting.”

You stepped into the office, your heels making small taps on the floor as you went, signing in and showing your ID at the register before making your way inside. You’d been told to take a rest for a few days before you returned to your post in the HQ at DC, but who were you to listen?

And everyone knew it too, because the very moment you stepped inside, you were greeted with a show of applause and cheers from your colleagues. “Tenth drug ring of your career.” Agent Lafitte clapped your shoulder, chuckling. “You’re on a roll, sister.”

“Cool it with the flattery, Benny, I’m on a time crunch.” You snorted, shaking your head and holding a hand out for a case file, which was dropped into your hand as you continued walking.

“Hi.” There was a blonde girl beside you, hair pulled up into a ponytail, presumably the one who handed the fine to you. “Agent Jo Harvelle. I used to work narcotics, but they’re giving me a trial in Major Crimes. I was told by the CO to shadow you, so I can get a good sense of the ropes.”

While looking through the files, you glanced up at Agent Harvelle, seeing the eager look on her face. Rather like you when you started, and the eager ones made good agents. With a little tough love. “Yeah, a’ight. CO’s called me for a briefing, so it’ll be up to him whether you stay or step out.”

“About that drug ring you busted?” She grinned. “I was told. By practically everyone. How are you that skilled?”

“Ain’t my first rodeo, hon.” You smirked as you reached the boss’ office, rapping twice on the door with your knuckles and earning a polite ‘come in’.

That you did, finding your superior officer, Senior Agent Robert Singer, standing behind his desk, nose deep in a file while his ear was being talked off by… oh, boy.

Agent Winchester.

“So I quickly take my gun, aim it between his eyes,” He held up finger guns and aimed them to prove his point, completely disregarding your arrival, hideously typical, “and I said ‘hands up or I’ll reenact Rambo’. Genius, am I right?”

You cleared your throat sharply.

That got Agent Winchester’s attention, his green eyes zeroing in on you and giving you memories back that you tried to dispose of in the first place. A smirk twitched at those lips that were once too close to be professional before they stretched into a grin, pearly whites flashing. “Mornin’, Agent. Surprised to see you here.”

“I could say the same thing.” You pressed your lips together (and your thighs, but you’d never admit that), turning to Agent Singer instead. “Should I leave Harvelle outside, sir?”

“That’s ideal.” Singer nodded, so you signalled to Harvelle to stay outside as you closed and locked the soundproof door. You passed the file on the Brierson drug ring to him, which he checked over. “Impressive work, as always. This’ll land them behind bars for sure.”

“Always the perfectionist, aren’t you?” Winchester quipped, arms folded across his chest with a smug smirk. Your brow twitched; you knew exactly why he was highlighting that word in bold, italics, whatever he was intending to do. You’d just rather not think about it.

You scanned him over, adding all the facts in your head. His shirt wasn’t ironed. Belt was wonky. Hair looked like it had a comb desperately run through it but failed to tame it. Faint hint of something red you recognised as a lipstick smear on his jugular and a sliver of a purple bruise that disappeared under his collar. Which was hastily pulled up. His tie done in the simplest knot ever and still looked tragic.

He got here in quite the rush.

“Nice night?” You shot back, a full smirk tugging at your lips and making his drop. He gave you a look which blatantly said smartass, while you proudly notched that win on your belt.

Singer looked between the two of you before tapping his desk. “Entertaining, but not why you’re both here. We’ve found ourselves in a fix. Franz Brierson wasn’t at that party.”

Your blood ran cold. That guy was the big boss, the guy who started it all, got everyone on his payroll. If he was loose… but he couldn’t be loose. Unless you didn’t check?

“I’ve been looking into it for the past five hours. That’s right, I got here early.” Singer huffed out a breath. “There’s a chance that our big boss was notified beforehand. A mole that told him we were coming.”

“A mole. In the FBI.” Dean muttered, now serious as he rubbed a hand into his mouth. “We’ve been clean for years.”

“It’s the only explanation.” You piped up, shaking your head as you began to pace. Heels tapping, Dean’s eyes fixating on the sway of your hips and your ass in that getup at the wrong goddamn moment. “That operation was airtight. No room for error. Only someone on the inside could have leaked that info.”

“You two are the best Major Crimes has. Most arrests, most drug and crime busts I’ve seen on a record in all my years of being here.” Singer folded his arms, looking between the two of you. “I don’t know the whats, whens, whos, hows, whys of what happened when you two were last assigned on a case together, but I need this operation to stay in this circle right here.” He faced you. “When you’re working this case, Agent Harvelle can’t be there. It’s gonna be hard to shake, but you can handle it. As for you,” Singer shot an exasperated look at Winchester, “look presentable!”

“I look hot.” Dean pouted, now holding his jacket over his shoulder with it hooked on his index.

“Hot isn’t FBI. Go sort yourself out, or I’ll get your brother to do it. I need to oversee operations.” Singer left the room and the tense air between you and Dean, which you faced head on.

“So,” You started in a lilting voice, which he recognised instantly as your teasing tone and prompting an eye roll before the words left your lips, “was she good?”

“Shut up.” He groaned, shaking his head as he pulled his suit jacket back on. “None of your damn business. It’s an intimate exploration, not exhibitionism.” He lowered his voice so you couldn’t hear. “Though she’d probably be into that.”

“Are we calling sex an intimate exploration now?” You scoffed lightly, laughing afterwards. “You’re such a sappy romantic.”

“Asshole.” He shot back. Two can play, Winchester.

“Dumbass.”

“Smartass.”

“Jackass.”

“We gotta stop using ‘ass’ in every sentence.” He groaned, running a hand through his hair and picking up the file to busy himself. But the file was picked out of his hands, left carelessly on the desk, your lips claiming his something sinful.

Something that had him moaning, gripping your hips and his mouth soft, pliable, agreeable to your every want and need. He was all yours, and that was all it took to silence him.

Well, not really silence him, but details weren’t necessary. Not when your plush lips were pressing against his neck like that. Hot, open mouthed. Insistent. Rousing. Dizzying. Intoxicating.

He’d be damned if he ever got enough.

His shirt was soon hanging open, tie discarded as the marks of that sexy lipstick shade littered his torso, and he wasn’t complaining. He definitely wasn’t complaining when you sank to your knees, unbuckling his belt as your tongue traced his abs. Didn’t dare when his slacks pooled to the floor, boxers dropping next, his hand tangling in your hair as-

“Hey.” Your fingers snapped in front of him, taking him out of his delightful daydream, however ill-timed. He swallowed, giving himself a once over. No tie discarded, no shirt undone, no lipstick marks and definitely no you looking so sexy on your knees for him. Having him whine for you.

That was a thought worth biting his lip to.

“You with me?” You continued, and upon his shaky nod, you gave him a weird look before continuing on with your briefing. He inwardly wiped sweat off his brow, thankful to whatever god was watching for the lucky save.

You were sipping a late-night decaf coffee as you contemplated the case again, dressed in your worst-looking pyjamas with an old tea stain on the front and fuzzy socks. Had you scoped the party properly, you could’ve clocked if big man Brierson was actually there. But he’d known, he’d known, and now everyone in Major Crimes was under investigation.

By you.

Well, and Agent Winchester, but you’d rather not think of him. You’re actually not quite sure what happened between you two, all that you broke your own rules for your heart to be broken too. You focused on your job, he had fun. Your cycle went that way.

You’d find a new case, he’d find a new girl. Both to busy yourselves so you wouldn’t have to think about each other, which worked until now.

You got a phone call, and you mindlessly picked it up, irritated as you were pulled from your contemplative thoughts. “What do you want? I’m busy.”

‘Dean, so nice to hear from you.’ You heard, his voice mimicking yours before switching back to his. ‘Wow, Agent, colour me surprised; it’s nice to hear from you too. How are you, Dean? I’m perfectly fine, sweetheart, how are you? You’re so polite.’

“Do I sound like someone to engage in small talk right now?” You deadpanned among chuckles at his own joke, putting your dinner - leftovers - in the microwave. God, you weren’t in the mood for this.

Eventually his snickers subsided, and he cleared his throat as you set the mug down. ‘Duly noted. You’re boring. Anyway, about the mole case. I think we should meet up in the office tomorrow to draw up a list of potential suspects.’

You took your warmed dinner, placing the phone between your shoulder and ear as you stabbed the spaghetti with a fork, chewing as you spoke. “And I think you’re insane. That’s the place we’re casing. Why in the hell would we start drafting up names there?”

You heard Dean clear his throat at the end of the line. ‘Right. Got it. My place?’ Truth is, Dean had been hoping you’d say anything but ‘let’s not draft at the office’. He was scared he’d lift you up on the nearest surface and do what he hadn’t the previous time, mark you, claim you and then let you claim him, mark him, wreck him. He didn’t know what you two were, or what you’d become.

Maybe strangers with very intense, deep seated sexual tension.

“What time?” You asked through yet another bite of spaghetti. You weren’t about to forgo dinner for this dude, cordiality be damned.

‘Tomorrow, straight after hours, just head to my place. Does that work for you?’

“Mm, yeah.” You nodded, setting down your plate to quickly note it in your schedule. “See you then, Agent Winchester.”

‘Call me Dean.’

“Agent Winchester.” It was the least you could do after how things got last time. Again, you’d rather not talk about it.

You walked into the DC office after registering, briefing with Agent Singer before heading to the break room, where you found Trainee Agent Harvelle, Trainee Agent Kevin Tran, Agent Benjamin Lafitte, Agent Garth Fitzgerald and Agent Sam Winchester.

You knew Sam. He was a damn sight more respectful and less… Dean-esque than his older brother. Smarter, yet less effective on brute force raids. For that, you needed Dean Winchester. Anything research, or hacking into databases, Sam was your guy.

“Agents.” You smiled awkwardly, not knowing how else to greet them as you went straight for the coffee pot. Thank the Lord for the petition to make the standard of coffee in that jug better that got the vote from every damn person in the department.

HR and Maintenance can suck it.

“Agent.” The rest of them replied, identically sipping cups of Joe.

“Agents.” Singer walked in, holding a file. “Briefing room. Now.” He walked out, and you all followed suit, taking your coffees with you because you needed the caffeine to sustain your brains. Once you all stepped into the briefing room, where Agent Winchester and Agent Nick Garrison were waiting.

Singer grunted, pulling up a slideshow on the board. “Let’s get this over with.” He showed bodies, robbed banks, hostage situations. “Six occurrences of organised crime over the past four weeks. All hitting major municipalities. Now it’s our jurisdiction.”

“What have we got from the crime scenes?” Agent S. Winchester asked, brow furrowed in thought.

“Nothing but this snake logo, spray painted at every scene.” Up comes a logo of a rearing cobra.

You shrugged, quickly figuring something out. “Well, that solves half of the mystery. They want our attention.”

“It is possible.”

“I think it’s a temper tantrum.” You snorted, pointing to the board. “Look at where they’re hitting. Large cities, maximum damage, it’s a cry out for our beady eyes. Leaving a logo at the scene? Someone either wants to get caught or lead us on.”

“Sounds kinda like girls at a bar.” Agent D. Winchester snickered, but earned a weird look from everyone in the room. “What? I make my own style of analogies, don’t come at me for it.”

“Who’s on the team, sir?” Lafitte asked, the man all slow drawl, suave talk and suspenders.

You pointed to Agent D. Winchester, smirking. “Leave him out, his main interests are girls and booze.”

“Blow me.” He scoffed in retaliation, glaring at you. That was a mistake on Dean’s part, cause he started to imagine it. Oh, that memory’s vivid as hell.

“Beg for it.” You shot back, and despite the steady inflation of awkwardness, he really had half a mind to beg for it, honour be damned to hell.

Pin drop silence. Shared smirks. Uncomfortable eye contact between you and Dean, your minds going to places they really shouldn’t.

Agent Singer cleared his throat, then continued talking. “I want you,” he pointed to you, “and the two Agent Winchesters and Agent Lafitte on it, and the two trainees Agent Tran and Harvelle to shadow. You’re dismissed, except for you two.”

Didn’t take a genius to know who ‘you two’ were.

So everyone but you and Agent D. Winchester filtered out, and the moment the door closed, you were both less bickering, head chopping and heart ripping. More on business.

“This is a good chance for you two to scout for our mole.” Singer looked between the two of you pointedly. “As much unknown history as you two have, you idjits need to set that aside. For the sake of our damn Major Crimes unit. Narcotics will give me hell if I don’t sort this out. And the board of directors will be less pleased that we’ve been compromised.”

“We understand, sir.” You nodded, understanding how goddamn serious this was. Lives were on the line. Your jobs, the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s maintained integrity. “We can put aside our differences, can’t we, daddy’s boy?” You smirked at Dean, then pretended to realise that you’d made a mistake. “Oh, my bad. Agent Winchester.”

Dean resisted a clapback with all his might. He didn’t care if their CO was right there, he’d bend you over this desk and show you who’s really in control here.

That would wipe the smirk off those pretty lips. Replace it with his claim over you.

“So, Dean, I wanna know.” Sam smirked, cracking open a beer and passing it to his older brother. “What’s with you and her?”

Dean scoffed, sipping the beer and shaking his head. “I’m asked this fifty times a day. There’s nothing going on here. We’re work colleagues. She’s incredibly annoying, and grating, and infuriating, and I’m extremely handsome.”

That got a wider smirk from Sam, a knowing one. “You knew who I was talking about.”

That caught Dean out, and he furrowed his brow in confusion. “Say what?”

“You have so many girls in your life that half of your contacts are women.” Sam raised an eyebrow, then chuckled. “But you knew who I was referencing first try.”

“Humour me, Sammy.” Dean grimaced, folding his arms. “How do you label intense sexual tension that was almost acted on yet it almost broke our personal set of rules? Hm? Thought so.”

“So, she’s kind of like an old flame.”

“That flame ain’t lit.”

Sam nodded slowly, giving a breathless chuckle and an inclination of his head. “Yeah. Sure.” He stepped out of the room to head upstairs, which alerted Dean of the implication. He rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up in the air.

“Hey! Sammy!”

NEXT UP:

“Oh, honey, such a flirt!” You laughed in a posh accent, mimicking your mother’s laugh to the best of your ability while you swatted Dean’s chest. He smirked at the look in your eyes, because goddamn was it obvious that you hated this.

“Darlin’, I can’t help myself around you.” He turned to the other charity goers with a proud smirk, gesturing to all of you. “Can’t keep my hands off my gorgeous wife. Might have to have something off the menu for dessert, if you catch my drift.” He winked at some elderly ladies, who giggled and waved him off.

“Such a charming boy.” One cooed, obviously eyeing Dean up with poorly restrained envy. While you looked around for your target, you missed the way Dean’s eyes travelled down your body in that form-fitting red dress, v-neck, v-back, thigh slit where he knew you had a thigh holster strapped in, all the good stuff. And his eyes were on those scarlet heels.

He was imagining ramming into you with those sexy things on. And that dress, well, it’d be off in second if he had the chance. And that lipstick? Well, it’d be smeared and leaving prints on his neck, chest, abs and- that’s going a bit too unprofessional.

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thehandmaidenofcreativity · 4 months

Text

The Man Who Talks to Himself and the Girl Who Listens

WC: 6.7k

Rating: 18+, fluff to smut

Comments: idol!Seungmin and female reader. This is my first fic.. hope you like it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

•

“That doesn’t even make sense…”

You wouldn’t have heard him if the song hadn’t just ended. For whatever reason, that little bit of muttering caught your interest. You hit pause before the next tune can fill your ears. He’s sitting just behind you. You’re tempted to sneak a peek at what he’s doing. You’re sure he came in alone, so it seems he’s talking to himself.

“Then again, confusion is a higher sense of consciousness...” He trails off.

What a brilliant way of thinking, you muse. He goes on outlining a plan of some sort, maybe for a novel or a play; it’s captivating. Unfortunately, he would stop thinking out loud at some points, but no matter how long the pause, you couldn’t turn your music back on and miss any of his magic. Because that’s what it felt like: magic. He was filling you with such wonder; you could burst.

After a while, he gets a phone call, though, and the show comes to an end. You hear him packing up his things; you watch him stride out of the cafe. Silly as it is, considering you don’t see his face, you think he looks handsome - tall, with broad shoulders and a pretty shade of reddish hair poking out from beneath a baseball cap.

The next day, you decide to return to the cafe. You tell yourself that it’s just a nice, low-key place to get work done and enjoy a few cups of tea, but in the back of your mind, you’re hoping the man will be there again. You arrive half an hour earlier than yesterday and sit at the same table, sipping on blueberry tea with your headphones in, laptop in front of you. Fifteen minutes in, you hear the bell on the door jingle. You try for nonchalance as you glance at the entrance. You hadn’t gotten a good look at him the day before, but you’re sure it’s the same man. To your delight, he brings his things to the table behind you before going to the counter. Despite the mask, you can tell your initial assessment was correct - he’s handsome. He has his hood up rather than a hat today, so you still don’t get the full effect of his hair, just see the slight waves of his bangs covering his forehead. His eyes are quite dark, but nice, and slightly downturned, reminding you of something or someone that you can’t place. How can someone look so good when most of their face is covered?

For the next few hours, you sit transfixed by the man, at times sitting stagnant just listening to him, your own work forgotten. Eventually, you both have to leave, but before you do, you stop by the barista. “Hey, this may be a weird question,” you try to sound as casual as possible. “But does that guy who was at the table behind me come in here often?”

“Yeah, he’s been in here most weekdays,” the girl responded. “But he probably has classes or something on Monday and Wednesday, cause I don’t usually see him then.”

“Cool, thanks.”

Odd as it feels, kind of stalking this man, you continue coming back to the cafe over the next couple weeks, only skipping those days when you’re sure that he won’t be there. At times, you even jot down questions that you’d want to ask him if you could, but you never speak to him. You always sit with your back to him, headphones in, pretending not to listen.

At the end of the week, he gets a phone call. As he heads outside to take it, you hear him say that he’ll be back on the road in about a week and feel a surge of panic for some reason. You realize that you can’t just be the girl who listens anymore.

You flip to the document that holds your questions for him and grab a notebook out of your bag. You quickly jot down the two most recent ones, furtively glancing at the door to check that he’s still on the phone. You can’t decide if you should write your email or your number; you almost can’t believe you’re doing this at all. You add to the top of the page “confusion may be a higher sense of consciousness, but I’m so curious” and write your email to the bottom. One more look at the door tells you that now’s your chance; you quickly set the note in front of his coffee.

While you were somehow brave enough to leave the note, you're certainly not brave enough to hear him read it. You hurriedly collect your things and head for the door. His call must’ve just ended; he opens the door and holds it, nodding at you. You hope your blush isn’t obvious, but even if it is, he must get that all the time. He’d left his mask off when he went outside. He is one of the most handsome men you’ve ever not-actually met. He has a strong, straight nose, and his face is oval shaped - a good mix of masculine and boyish. You kind of hate that he’s giving you that obviously fake, pursed, polite smile instead of a real one, but why wouldn’t he; you’re giving him the same one.

The next night when the notification sounds, you don’t think much of it. You almost decide not to check your email before bed, but something is nudging at the back of your mind. You click into it and see the subject line: Allow me to bring some clarity. You’re a little stunned that he actually wrote you, because it had to be him; who else would it be?

His answers are short, a little cryptic. But he told you that he’s writing music. You have the smallest insight into his head, and you love it. What you aren’t sure about is how you feel about the fact that he clearly knows who you are. Well. Maybe not clearly. He guessed that you’re you, another regular, or the waitress. He also wanted to know if you have more questions. He signed off as ‘Thinking Out Loud’ rather than giving his name. You wonder if you should avoid showing just how long you’ve been stalking him, but you are curious. It’s time to go big or go home. You thank him for his email and copy over the rest of your ‘Questions and Thoughts’ doc. You also consider fessing up, telling him who you are. But you could be mysterious, too. Ultimately, you sign off as ‘the Listener.’

The night passes, then the next day. It’s Monday, so you don’t go to the cafe. The anticipation is killing you. You decide that if he doesn’t respond before the night is over, you just won’t go back. Maybe that’s cowardly, but it would be mortifying. He’d obviously been freaked out by how long you’ve been listening to him. So much for that hobby and unraveling the mystery of Mr. Thinking Out Loud.

The next morning, you see that you received an email around 4 am. He had replied after all. He didn’t answer any questions, though. It simply read: Same time at the cafe today? Smiling like a fool, you get ready for the day and try not to freak out about the invitation. It was an invitation, wasn’t it? You take a little extra care with your appearance - applying a subtle lip stain, a little eyeliner, and mascara.

As usual, you arrive before him. You go back and forth about sitting at ‘your’ table or his. It is possible that he hadn’t been inviting you to truly interact with him. You sit at your own table and somehow manage to focus on your work for a while. You figure you have a bit of time before he arrives, so you head to the restroom. As you’re walking back toward your table, you freeze.

The guy.

He’s sitting there.

At your table.

The seat across from yours.

You force yourself to move. He looks up as you draw near and offers you a small, welcoming smile. And you’d thought he couldn’t get any cuter. You sit as the waitress stops by to drop off his coffee and a fresh tea for you. She winks at you as she walks away.

“I hope you don’t mind; I hear you like the blueberry.” He smiles again and wow. It’s incredible. He extends his hand. “My listener, I presume?”

“You caught me,” you laugh awkwardly, shaking his hand. “I’m sorry if it was weird of me. You just seem so… interesting.”

There’s no way he doesn’t see your blush this time. The corner of his mouth quirks back up. Then he just takes a sip of his coffee and starts talking. You don’t even need to put your headphones on, because this time, he’s talking to you.

•

You both stay longer than usual. Two more rounds of drinks and a couple shared pastries later, you learn that he’s a musician and trying to write a connected story within an album, something he’s never done on his own before. He also, ears reddening, admits to not realizing he talks quite so much while he’s working. He answers your questions, even asks for your feedback and compliments you on your insights. You’ve always loved watching people talk about their passions, and today is no different. He lights up when he talks, practically glowing. If you thought his first smile was nice, then this full, joyful smile is fantastic. And when he laughs? It makes your heart flutter. He’s beautiful.

All too soon, he says that he needs to head out to his next schedule. You finally notice the time, and while you know you should leave, too, you’re sad that this is over. “Same time on Thursday?” you ask meekly.

He smiles at you. You try not to hold your breath. “Sounds good.” He gathers the last of his things, stands to leave, and gives a small wave. “It was great talking to you, Listener.”

You almost tell him your name or ask his, but he’s already walking away.

By the time Thursday rolls around, you’re nearly vibrating with excitement. How can one coffee date, if you can even call it that, get you so eager to meet with a man you barely know? Though in a way you’ve been getting to know him for a while, indirectly. Plus, music can be a very personal expression of one’s self, and that’s clearly his intention considering your first conversation. Two and a half hours before it’s time to leave, however, your light dims.

The subject line of the email reads: ‘Scheduling Conflict.’ He addresses it to ‘My Listener.” My listener. You’re beaming and feel incredibly silly about it. Your smile falls again, though, as you read the rest of the email. He lets you know that he won’t be at the cafe today, and he didn’t want you to show up and think he stood you up. He thinks that he’ll be able to meet you tomorrow, but will let you know if things change. Things at work are picking up for him, it seems. You try not to be too disappointed and resolve to be much more chill about the situation tomorrow; it’s literally just coffee with an attractive man who seems very intelligent and kind. Right.

So with take two on Friday, you stay busy and try not to think too much about him. Still, you can’t help being excited; you practically bounce into the cafe. He’s not here yet, but he didn’t email today, so you’re optimistic. Despite already brimming with nervous energy, you decide to have a latte today. You settle in with it at your table when the bell on the door rings. He’s sporting a black bucket hat today; it’s a great look.

“Coffee today, huh?” He takes his mask off as he sits, offering that brilliant smile. “What’s your order?”

“Oh, it’s a blonde, breve vanilla latte,” you smile back but notice that he doesn’t have his customary bag of writing materials. Your smile fades a little.

He grimaces a bit. “Sounds too sweet and milky.” He signals to the waitress and she brings him his customary americano without him even needing to order it. “So there’s been a little change in plan again today. I can’t stay too long, but I didn’t want to cancel on you again.”

It’s sweet that he made time for you, but you are disappointed. You remember overhearing him saying he’d be on the road next week, so who knows how long it'll be before you might see him again. If you’ll see him again at all. But you said you’d be chill today, so chill you will be! You talk more about the concept of his album, asking and answering questions and offering suggestions and compliments. All too soon, your cups are empty.

He checks his phone and gives a wry smile. “I need to head out… See you around.” As he stands and moves to leave, he looks back at you thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t be interested in getting a drink with me tonight, would you?”

You hope your smile isn’t too wide. “I’d love to, do you have somewhere in mind?”

He jots down an address and his number on the back of his receipt. “Great. I’ll see you at 9? Just call me when you get there, I’ll meet you out front.” He gives you one last smile before he puts on his mask and heads for the door. Across the bottom of the slip, he’d also written his name. Seungmin.

•

You consider trying to look him up before your date. It is a date this time for sure, right? You hadn’t told any friends about him yet, ‘cause you still felt a little like a stalker, but you need help. When Hana arrives at your apartment, you immediately spill the entire story.

“You never took any pictures of him?” She laughs. “What kind of third-rate stalker are you?”

“Hey! I tried my best not to be creepy… or any creepier than I was already being.” You get out two tops and a dress. “Okay, so I don’t wanna seem like I’m trying too hard, but I wanna look good. What do you think?”

She considers your options. “I’d go with the lilac. It gives you a decent amount of cleavage without being too slutty. What bottoms are you thinking?”

You pull out a pair of dark wash jeggings and black wide-legged pants. “Is it too much flowy or do the black ones work?” Ultimately you decide on the jeggings - as Hana said, they do much more for your ass. She consults on your hairstyle and make-up choices, and by the time you’re ready, your nerves have skyrocketed. “Am I crazy for doing this? Like he seems really nice, but I don’t know anything about him. And he seems young.”

“Oh, you stop that!” Hana rolls her eyes at you. “It’s been forever since you went out with someone. And so what if he’s a little young! Might be a good change of pace; he’ll have lots of energy.” She winks at you and laughs. She might be right. You hope so. Then, just like that, it’s time to head out. As you part ways, Hana offers a few last words of encouragement, “You’ll be fine! Just relax and have fun. If it sucks, it sucks, and you never have to see him again. But if it’s great, it might be the start of a fun adventure!”

You’re nearly to the bar, so you pull up his contact. Seungmin. Not for the first time, you wish he’d given you his last name as well. You might’ve been able to cyber-stalk him as well.

He answers on the second ring. He tells you he’ll be out front, and as you near the bar, you see him step out onto the sidewalk. He asks if you’re close, and you speed up a little. You tell him you are, then hang up; he looks down at his phone, head cocked to the side, clearly confused. You tap him on the shoulder and watch as his expression changes. Even with his mask on, you can tell when his smile lands. You meet it with one of your own.

“Shall we?” Seungmin offers his arm like a gentleman leading a lady out onto the ballroom floor. Once inside, you follow him past the bar and out the back door into an alley. Before you can question him, he points over to the right. A couple meters away, you spot a black door sporting red flourishes. He knocks out a slightly complicated rhythm, and one of the red designs opens to reveal a pair of eyes.

It’s a speakeasy. He brought you to a speakeasy. You didn’t even know that they had speakeasies anymore, though you suppose that’s the point. How does he know about it? He gives the password - flufflebuzz - and you make your way inside. It’s as you’d expect, a bit dark with a masculine, leather-based design scheme. There are small groups gathered around cocktail tables or in the booths lining the walls. Light jazz music floats through the space, covering conversations but not loud enough to make it difficult to have one.

Seungmin leads you to a booth in the back, saluting the bartender on his way. Once you’re settled, he takes off his mask and lets out a little sigh. “I hope this is alright; I know it’s a little different.”

You realize that he’s nervous, which calms you down a little bit. “This is so cool,” you smile at him, gesturing to the bar. “I’ve never been anywhere like this! How did you find it?”

“Oh, some people I work with introduced me to it,” he blushes as he tells you. Another little mystery. “Most people in here work in my industry.” As you turn to take a look around, the waitress arrives with two drinks in hand. They’re yellowish with a creamy foam on top. Seungmin thanks her before you can say that you haven’t ordered yet. “It’s a tradition here, your first drink is up to the bartender, but if you don’t like it, don’t feel like you have to drink it.”

“Well, that’s fun!” You give the drink a sniff. It smells fruity, though you expected that. You can’t figure out what its base is, though. You dip your pinky in a little bit. If Seungmin notices, he doesn’t comment on it. Your nail color doesn’t change, so you know it’s safe to drink. You pick up your glass and Seungmin clinks his to yours. You take a tentative sip. It’s good, a mix of sweet and sour. Seungmin makes a face, though. You laugh. “Not quite your style?”

“And he knows that,” Seungmin smiles at you before catching the bartender’s eye and flipping him off. They both laugh, and the bartender heads over, beer in hand.

“Not about the passionfruit?” The bartender slides the fresh drink in front of him. Seungmin just narrows his eyes at him. “I know, too sweet. I had to try, though. Now we’re being rude. Don’t wanna scare off your friend here. I suppose you’re really not a fan, huh?” He directs the question to you.

“Oh no, I love passionfruit. I think this is great.” You give him a polite smile, but they share an odd look and laugh.

The bartender picks up Seungmin’s discarded drink and takes a sip. “Happy to hear it. Could be good for you, Min. You guys have a good night.” With that, he gives a quick wink and walks off, joining another table rather than going back behind the bar where you see another bartender has materialized. You’re more than a little confused.

“I’m sorry about that. Chan Hyung is…” Seungmin looks thoughtfully in the direction Chan went. “A little over-protective. He just wanted to see that you weren’t… That you seemed alright. Sorry, I know that’s vague.”

“It’s fine,” you offer. Though you are still a little lost, you can understand looking out for a friend. “So is he not actually a bartender, or…?”

Seungmin laughs again. Now that you’re alone, you’re able to appreciate the sound of it a bit more. “No, not really. We’re just friends with him, and every now and then Chan likes to try his hand at making drinks somewhere that has a greater variety of ingredients. It’s for the best that they let him; the kitchen would be even more of a mess if he got stuff to make drinks at home. Anyway, enough about him, I wanna learn more about you.”

You blush a little at that and start answering the usual ‘get to know you’ type questions. You try to turn them back to him, but he deflects or quickly asks you follow-ups most of the time. He remains a bit of a mystery. You learn that he works with Chan, but doesn’t live with him - he has other roommates over at the other table, though; he has an older sister, which prompts a question that he answers easily for once.

“I’m 23,” he looks down at his drink, and you can just barely see his ears reddening in the dim light. “Not too young, I hope?” Though you haven’t explicitly told him your age, he clearly recognizes that you’re older than him. Despite not getting too many personal details, you are really starting to like him. And you’re pretty sure that confirms that he likes you, too.

“Not too young at all,” you smile. When your phone buzzes for the fourth time, he tells you to check it and heads for the restroom, stopping at Chan’s table on his way. He almost immediately erupts in the most endearing laugh with the lot of them. He looks so at ease with his friends, making you realize that he has seemed a bit nervous with you.

You look down at your phone to see multiple texts from Hana asking how it’s going, where you are, if you need rescuing. You let her know that you’re fine, having fun, and that you were right about him being younger. She immediately responds, asking if you’re planning on “closing the deal tonight then?” with a wink. At that, you put your phone away and look up to see that Seungmin's on his way back. The rest of the date goes on smoothly, moving from personal details to passions and interests; Seungmin answers a bit more freely now, his face lighting up the way it did in the cafe.

Before you know it, a waitress stops by to let you know it’s nearly time for last call. You’re both a bit surprised. “Wow, it’s gotten late fast,” Seungmin rubs at the back of his neck, looking down and biting that perfect lower lip. Hana’s question earlier pops into your mind and now you’re blushing, too. “Would it be too corny if I said I didn’t want the night to end?”

It’s a wonder you can suppress the gigantic smile you know is trying to burst out. “Not at all, I’m having a great time, too.” You consider the table of his friends and roommates over at the other table. Seungmin probably won’t want to ask you to go back to him apparent with so many others potentially being there. You hope you sound casual. “We could always go somewhere else for a bit. Take a walk or have a nightcap at my place or something.”

His eyes meet yours again as he nods, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

•

The walk back to your apartment is a little quieter than you expected. The closer you get, the more nerves build up. After a few minutes, his hand brushes yours a couple times before he interlocks his fingers with yours. You don’t try too hard to suppress your smile when you see his. As you enter, you gesture to the couch then you head toward the kitchen, running through the rest of the place in your mind, trying to remember if you may have left anything embarrassing out. “What can I get you? Another beer?”

“Actually, I was thinking it might be time to switch to coffee if you have any,” he ventures; he follows you to the kitchen and clearly notices your lack of coffee machine.

You grimace slightly. “I know it’s not very good, but I think I have some leftover instant?” His face tells you that it sounds as bad as you feared it might. “Sorry, I’m more of a tea drinker.”

“Blueberry?” He jokes, or at least you think it’s a joke. He’s lost some of the joviality he had at the bar, becoming a little harder to read. “I like to have tea now and then. Could I have something black?”

He agrees to try some lady grey and asks to look around while you put the kettle on. By the time you come out with your mugs, he’s sitting on the couch. He looks much more uncomfortable now. You don’t know if you should be offering to turn on the TV or some music; it’s been so long since you’ve had a date over. What will make things less awkward?

Luckily he saves you from having to decide; he asks if he can show you a music video. You pull up youtube on your TV and hand him the remote. The video he pulls up is titled ‘Stray Kids "특(S-Class)" M/V’ and asks, “I’m guessing you’ve never heard of them?” When you shake your head no, he turns to face you more fully. “How do you feel about how tonight went? Would you be interested in seeing me again?”

This feels abrupt, and he still looks so nervous. You give him a smile. “Tonight has been wonderful, and I’d love to go out again.” You expect him to relax a little, but if anything he tenses up a bit more.

“Me too. I just… need to tell you something first.” Instead of saying whatever it is, he hits play on the video. You consider his profile, as he’s actively not looking at you. Your head snaps to the TV when the voice starts singing. You suppose if it’s this important to him, you might as well watch. For a second you think you recognize the guys in the group, but you’re not sure why. Around 30 seconds in, you know that you’re looking at Seungmin’s friend Chan on the screen. You shoot him a questioning look, but he’s still focused on the video. About 10 more seconds and you understand why he’s so nervous. Your jaw drops. This time when you look at him, he pauses the video.

He’s still not looking at you when he speaks, suddenly very interested in his tea. “I would really like to see you again. To get to know you better.” He glances up at you, finally, then nods back at the TV. “But it can be really hard to do that when that’s your job.”

You really don’t know what to say. The best you can come up with is, “You sing so well.” Your stupidity breaks the tension a bit; he laughs then you do. “Sorry, I don’t know what to think right now. I know you said you like K-pop at the bar, I just didn’t realize that you, like, are K-pop. Wow. That’s really awesome.”

He laughs again. “Well, that’s one way to put it. I know I just kinda dropped a bomb on you. I can go so you can have time to think about it.”

Your “no” probably comes a little too quickly. “You haven’t finished your tea... Plus, I don’t want you to leave. I’m not sure I even know what to consider about it.”

He gives you a small smile before taking a sip from his mug. “Well, there are a few things to think about. I’m not allowed to date publicly. So if we continued to see each other, it would have to be a secret. And I travel a lot. I’m usually a lot busier; these last few weeks we’ve been on a short break. It would be hard to see each other too often.”

It does sound difficult. Maybe too difficult to consider with someone you just met. But you haven’t connected with someone like this in a long time. He seems like a great guy, he wants to keep seeing you, and he’s so, so handsome. His gaze is on his hands, giving you the opportunity to study his face without feeling self conscious. As your eyes trace his features, you imagine never getting to listen to him write music again, never getting to watch his face light up as he answers one of your questions about it, never hearing him laugh again. As he pulls that beautiful bottom lip between his teeth and raises his head to meet your eyes again, you know what you want. In the morning, this will probably all seem a bit crazier, but for now… you place your hand on his. You lean in and gently press a kiss to his lips.

You pull back and look into his eyes. Time stops for just a moment as you look at each other. You can see the desire in his stare; it matches your own. Then his hands are cupping your face and he’s kissing you again. His calluses surprise you - you can feel the roughness of them as one hand trails its way down your body and the other snakes back to grip your neck. As his tongue brushes your lip, your mouth opens a bit more in invitation; he accepts, deepening the kiss, his tongue mingling with yours. His hands trace your curves before pulling you closer and you wrap your arms around him. Each movement is insistent, bordering on frantic, as if you can’t get enough of each other. You want to dive into him. He clearly feels the same.

One moment he’s gripping your thigh and the next you’re straddling him, grinding against his growing erection, while his fingers dig into your ass. You pull back and look at him. You’re both breathing heavily. His hands are on your hips now, thumbs rubbing small circles. Your hands are on his shoulders, coasting down to rest on his biceps.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to -” he starts, but you cut him off.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” you smile at him. “Plus, I did kiss you first.”

“I meant to give you more time to think about all this.” He shakes his head slightly. “I don’t want you to regret anything.”

You give him another quick kiss. “I don’t think I will, regardless of where we go from here. And I do want to see you again. I’ve really enjoyed the time we’ve spent together. So for now, do you think we can just see how this goes?”

He considers you for a moment, those dark eyes boring into yours. He looks so serious, you can’t guess what he’s thinking. Then the corner of his mouth quirks up. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

You give him a smile of your own and lean in for another kiss. You sigh into his mouth as his hands slide under your shirt. Your hands find their way into his hair as he grips your waist tightly before pushing your shirt up. You break the kiss to let him take it off, and he shakes his head again before cocking it to the right as he studies you.The look he’s giving you makes you think of a puppy. It’s so adorable and somehow only adds to his sexiness. “You’re really beautiful, noona.” He gives your waist another squeeze as he says it, but his grin starts to falter. “Are you sure about this?”

Your face heats a little at the honorific. Your gaze wanders from his face, down to your seat on his lap, and back up. You roll your hips, savoring the feel of his hard length beneath you. “I’m sure.”

With a small groan, he shocks you by standing up and guiding you to wrap your legs around his thin waist. Your apartment isn’t huge, and he already took a look around, so he knows just where to go. In seconds, you’re on your bed with his weight on top of you. He grinds his hips into yours as he takes your mouth again.

In a flurry of lips and tongues and teeth, you pull at his shirt, needing to touch his skin. He pulls back long enough to pull it over his head, then his lips find your neck while your hands explore his bare back. You should worry about getting a hickey, but all you can think of is how each suck and bite at your neck sends a burst of fire through your body.

A thought strikes you, “I’m - ah - I’m, I’m clean, by the way.”

Seungmin grins, relishing the fact that he’s made it difficult for you to utter a simple sentence. “I am, too.” With that, his lips move south, nipping at the tops of your breasts before he pulls one of the cups down, locking his mouth onto your nipple. He sucks, tongue flicking and circling, while his hands make their way underneath you in an attempt to remove your bra. You arch into his touch, giving him room to work. Once your bra is off, he moves immediately to work on your leggings.

Just like that, you’re fully bared to him, and he finally slows down. He’s kneeling between your legs, just taking you in. You take the opportunity to study him a bit as well. He’s obviously got some muscle, but he’s not built - it fits him. His shoulders are broad, kind of like a swimmer’s. Your gaze drifts down to the considerable bulge in his pants, and you really can’t wait to see the rest of him. Before you can sit up to continue undressing him, he’s back on you. He kisses his way from your lips to your chest, down your stomach, all the while murmuring how beautiful you look, how sexy you are. He nibbles at your inner thigh, eyes on yours.

“Is this okay?” At this point, it feels a little like a silly question, but those puppy dog eyes are back, so you can’t tease him about it.

“Yes, are you–”

Yes was all he needed to hear. The eager thing dives right in, lapping at your clit with a flat tongue before swirling it in circles. He’s barely begun and you’re already starting to squirm, his strong grip on your thighs heightening the experience. You can’t help but let out a small moan. Your hands move into his hair of their own accord. As he laps at your core, pushing you towards your release, your grip tightens.

He pulls back, and you suppress a whimper. He licks his lips and gives you a heart-melting smile. “Does hair pulling mean I’m doing well or do I need to change tactics?” His thumb makes its way to your clit, doing lazy circles as he asks.

It takes you two tries to answer. “Ye-yes, hair pulling means it’s good. Do you mind it?”

His grin widens. “Pull away.” He’s sucking and licking now, driving you wild. You have fistfuls of his hair and, despite his permission, are fighting not to pull. Then he inserts a finger into you, another quickly follows. Your grip tightens again, you let out a gasp, and you can feel his smile. His fingers are curling, massaging into just the right spot as he sucks at your clit again. When you thrust up to meet his mouth, his other arm shifts across your hips and pushes them back down. Your head spins as he adds a third finger. He’s not letting up, pushing you into the stratosphere. An endless stream of moans and gasps spill from your lips and a tear trickles down the side of your face.

“Oh.. Min,” you cry as you come. He slows but doesn’t stop as your body tenses and shakes, clenching around his fingers. As the trembling subsides, he withdraws his fingers and climbs his way back up your body, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses. He licks his lips again, then wipes his dripping chin before licking his fingers.

“You taste good.” And you can taste yourself as his lips find yours again. “I like when you call me Min.”

“Please,” your hand finds his bulge, pulling at him while the other starts to pull at his waistband. You’re not usually so needy, but your orgasm has only made you want him more. “Please, I need you inside me.”

His eyes darken at that. You almost wonder if you might’ve put him off with your begging as he pushes up off the bed. He keeps his eyes on yours for a moment then starts unbuttoning his pants. “Say it again.”

“Please,” you sit up to take over, freeing his length with a tiny gasp. You could tell he was big before, but seeing it is another story. An ache pulses in your core at the thought of him filling you up. “I need you, Min.”

There’s been a shift in him. He’s not moving as frantically, the look on his face is devastating - so serious, his eyes full of pure desire. He slowly positions himself back between your legs, a hand on your chest, slowly pushing you down onto your back again. He drags the head of his cock through your folds before rubbing it on your clit then settling it back at your entrance. He leans down, one hand posted next to your head, while the other holds himself steady, and his lips caress yours. He pulls back slightly, forehead on yours, gaze boring into you.

You know what he wants. “Fuck me, Seungmin, please.”

His eyes are still locked on yours as his body shifts, pushing into you slowly, allowing you to adjust to his size. Your breath hitches and a soft moan escapes your lips. That flips his switch. His lips move roughly against yours as he starts to thrust. He quickly falls into a rhythm, and now it’s his hand fisting into your hair. You break the kiss so that you can suck at his neck. He sighs, but backs out of your reach. “I can’t, ah, I can’t have any visible marks.” You pull his mouth back to yours, your other hand grasping at his back. Seungmin slips a hand between you, his thumb finding your clit, and you feel yourself winding up again. As you meet each of his thrusts, you can’t control the mewling gasps coming out of your mouth. Soon you’re moaning his name again, and he’s breathing heavily into the crook of your neck. His movements become more erratic as you both approach your limits. You squeeze around him as you come again, and it sets him off at a faster pace.

“I’m going to, ah, I’m going to come,” he groans. “What do I, ah, where do I…” he straightens as he pulls out and you scramble to sit up and grab at him. He lets you take over pumping him while you quickly resituate yourself. You get your mouth around him and can barely move before his hand is back in your hair, and the other grips your shoulder tightly. You can tell he’s holding back to let you stay in control as you try to swallow him down without gagging (too much). Your name falls from his lips as he finishes; his hold on you loosens, and you both relax back. His hands move to cup your face gently, brushing away the tears you hadn’t noticed escaping. “Are you alright?”

You smile up at him, resting your hands on his thighs. “I’m fine. More than fine. You’re just a little big.”

He chuckles before ghosting a kiss over your lips. “As long as I didn’t hurt you.” He lays down then, pulling you with him. With your head on his chest, his hand tracing circles on your back, you start to drift off.

•

#kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin #seungmin x you #seungmin x reader #skz seungmin #skz fluff #skz smut #skz x reader #skz fanfic #seungmin

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loveephia · 1 year

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HIS CUTE FIANCÉ | ushijima wakatoshi

content: (🦷) tooth-rotting fluff, a sprinkle of angst, cute scenes of you and ushijima, your schoolmates being slightly jealous of you both, reader comes from a rich family, kind of manhwa-esque.

⚠ warning/s: reader hurts herself on accident and while cooking.

note: i remember people wanting a little drabble on this when i posted my 200 followers special, so here you go! :D

"oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh." was what ran through your mind when you watched ushijima wakatoshi officially sign the contract.

it was an arranged marriage. ushijima is knowingly the number two ace of japan, while your family owns a big sports company. this marriage would benefit ushijima in terms of popularity, while your family would benefit in more sales.

soon enough, this marriage would all be terminated once both sides are content with the outcome, so ushijima and his family agreed by contract. you were ecstatic, to say the least, having successfully hidden your small crush on the giant for ages now.

"it's a pleasure to be working with you, son." your father held out his hand to shake ushijima's.

somehow, during the next day at shiratorizawa, word got out of you two getting married soon, and it was all your schoolmates could talk about.

they all chattered about you both non-stop, saying how annoyingly perfect you are together. ushijima is this big, strong guy who has this intense passion for volleyball, yet he still happens to make time for you. while you're his doting and clumsy wife-to-be.

clumsy, you ask? well, one time, you tripped up the stairs because you were too busy admiring ushijima. you ended up with a medium-sized scar and several specks on your knee, but it all ended alright, since ushijima took nice care of it.

he led you to the infirmary, but unfortunately, the nurse was out on break, so ushijima took matters into his own hands. he first disinfected the minor wounds made before pouring a tiny bit of the antibiotics on a clean cotton ball. he then lightly padded it onto your scarred knee.

you apologized to ushijima for worrying him like this, but he brushed it off, telling you that it was nothing. "i don't mind taking care of you. it's the least that i could do while we're together."

the volleyball team was shocked from the news, to say the least. ushijima was surely handsome, but he can be a bit aloof, so it could drive some of the girls away. because of that, the team didn't expect that he'd be the first from them all to get married.

"so, how's married life treating ya, ushiwaka?" tendō joked, leaning an arm on his broad shoulder. "we're not married yet." ushijima stoicly replied.

"yet! he said yet!" your heart felt innocently happy at his choice of wording.

you were never too big on cooking, but to impress ushijima, you spent an entire week in shiratorizawa's hot and fiery kitchen, getting taught how to make the best hayashi rice by the school's cooking club.

"why'd you decide to do this, y/n? i mean.. you'd usually stay the farthest from the stove whenever we have home economic classes." a member asked curiously. you jumped at the sudden question, as if being caught red-handed. "oh! uhm.. i wanted to give ushi— i mean.. wakatoshi a bento to thank him for taking care of me this one time." your face went aflame at the memory of him patching up your knee with a cute band-aid.

you bashfully rubbed the back of your head, "but i don't think my current cooking skills will be enough to satisfy his taste buds."

"that's true, you're a terrible cook, y/n!" a friend walking by teased you while you tried to defend yourself, failing miserably in the process.

"anyway, that's why i came here. to get better." you said, determination in those eyes of yours. it moved the cooking club's members, and they adored your resoluteness. "okay, we'll help you!"

once you mastered the recipe, you added your own twist to be original and brought ushijima a bento. it was bundled up in a pastel wrapping cloth with a cute pattern on it. your classmates marveled at it, awaiting for the two of you to speak.

"what's this?" ushijima asked.

"it's.. hayashi rice. i made it. i hope you like it..!"

you left the classroom quickly to protect yourself from his reaction, which could only go both ways; good or bad. "i don't think my heart can take it if he dislikes my cooking.." you thought.

ushijima had already really liked the hayashi rice being served in the cafeteria, but since this was made by you, he supposes that he can take a bite or two.

and oh, did he love it.

it was similar to shiratorizawa's hayashi rice, but the flavor was more prominent, and the taste was much richer. i guess this is what happens when you have a bit of allowance left from your parents. aka the ingredients were pricey, and you had access to more spices since the shiratorizawa kitchen was a bit limited.

but not only that, he could tell that it was made with love (as if the heart-shaped rice wasn't obvious enough). ushijima had noticed your fingers being covered with small cuts earlier, probably from slicing the ingredients. it showed him that you really worked hard to make it.

he kindly asked if you could make another.

whenever you and ushijima are sitting next to each other in the cafeteria, you'd play with his large calloused hands for the fun of it. he doesn't mind, really. it's almost as if a kitten was massaging some bread on his palm. quite therapeutic if i do say so myself.

a bold move of ushijima that you'll never forget is the time he hugged you from behind for the first time. he was tired from practice and wanted to rest a bit, so he used you as his pillow. rest assured that he was feeling well-energized with you in his muscular arms.

you warmed up to ushijima and managed to earn yourself a soft spot in his heart. even ushijima's fellow volleyball members have noticed how relaxed he's been lately.

the day of termination has come, and both sides were more than happy with what they profited. ushijima had gotten more magazine gigs for the sports section, and your family had gained more than enough money to last them until the next generation.

you and ushijima were in your father's spacious office room with the contract laying despairingly on the table in front of you. your father, himself, was sitting on the opposing side of the both of you.

thinking of this all ending makes your heart heavy, but ushijima never did this for love, so i guess it's to be expected. being loved back is asking for too much, so the least you could do is respect his own feelings.

"i'm thankful for the past few months."

you reluctantly signed your signature on the left side of the contract and waited patiently for ushijima to pick up the pen and do the same.

but he never did.

with a sigh, ushijima speaks up, "is it possible to renew the contract? i don't think i'm satisfied yet."

your jaw drops, and you face your father, whose expression seems to be a playful one. "oho~ and what have you still not gotten out of this that isn't to your heart's content? a sports scholarship for college? or perhaps a partnership?" he lists.

"your daughter's real hand in marriage." ushijima states.

"huh?!" you face ushijima to see if this is just some kind of cruel joke being played on you, but ushijima wasn't one for funny punchlines. in fact, he was always very straightforward.

"that is if.. y/n is okay with it." and now, ushijima and your father are looking at you for your answer.

you nod shyly and look down at your own lap.

"very well then! i'll check this with my lawyer and my wife to see what we can do." your father walked out of the office room, leaving you with ushijima.

you play with the hem of your dress nervously, not knowing what to say. "i saw the way you hesitated to sign the contract earlier," ushijima started, and you turn to him, surprised by how on-point his assesment was, "so i thought that you'd be okay to continue being engaged."

"truthfully, i grew comfortable with your presence. and on days when you weren't beside me, i'd wonder where you were and how you were doing."

"there was never a day where you weren't on my mind." he admits.

now you were feeling dizzy from his words. "i- i see.."

"is that all you have to say to me?" ushijima asks, hopeful, as he leans close to you. "w- well..!"

you muster up your remaining courage and silently mumble, "..thank you for loving me, wakatoshi."

ushijima smiles gently at your verbal reply, it being exactly what he wanted to hear.

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pablitogavii · 9 months

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Best Friends Little Sister Pt. 1

Here is the very first part..hope you enjoy reading this storyline! There will be MANY parts if you like the story 💗💗💗

Fucking great! I've barely been here twenty four hours and I'm already in so much fucking trouble!

When i finally convinced my parents to let me go to Barcelona for uni, they only agreed if it meant staying with my older brother Pedri and not making any problems to his very important football career. He was always the golden boy in the household..I was kind of like a wild goose.

Of course I promised to behave..I would basically promise anything just so they let me go! Besides my best friend Masa was going too!

Tonight was a big event..back to school party night..with some after party VIP event which I of course had tickets for knowing who my brother is in these circles. Masa and I didn't think twice than to sneak out night before first day of classes and enjoy some privileges having a famous brother gives.

We promised not to drink..but beer pong seemed irresistible at the time which then turned into some shots and finally we needed a ride back home. A handsome looking black man walked up to me offering another drink but I refused. I was already getting sick of everything I had..and I wanted to go home.

"Hmm you know who I am guapa? I'm Vinicius Jr.." he said slurring his words..now that I took a look at him I obviously knew the guy..how could one miss the diamond chain he had on with his name on it..poser! His hand wrapped around my waist shamelessly and I felt sickened to my stomach..I should be home now!

"And you know who I am!? I'm Pedri's little sister and a Culé for life so get lost!" I said pushing him off and walking to make a phone call to only person other than my brother I knew in town..Pablo Gavi.

Morning Pedri picked me up from the airport Gavi was there..they were just getting back from training and we went to have some lunch together. Of course we were stopped by hoards of girls screaming both of their names..it was kind of embarrassing to think of my brother as alpha male in Barca but couldn't say I didn't get girls being obsessed with Gavi..he was certainly something else in person.

Broad shoulders..veiny arms..long fingers..fuck! And those eyes looking at you like he's already seen you naked..everything screamed DOMINANCE!! Don't even get me started on his hair..and did you know what he called me...!?

"Hola pequeñita, que necesitas ahora?" Pablo's groggy but still sexy voice broke my train of thought and I knew that I just woke him up.Better him than my brother I thought..I explained everything and he was on his way to pick us up. That was lucky that he didn't call my brother and snitched on me!

"Alright, hop in!" he pulled up getting out and opening both doors for me and my best friend to get inside..what a gentleman!

"Who got you into this party!? Aren't you like underage?" he asked me sitting at the passenger seat while Masa was already passed out in the back. I showed him the fake I brought from him seeing his jaw clenching..fuck I was getting so horny by it now!!

"Besides I faked Pedri's signature for the owner and he looked the other way for tonight..it's back to school night" you explain giggling at your own brilliant idea looking at Pablo's still serious face.

"You're trouble.." Pablo's voice was low and somehow demanding and I felt my panties water thinking of all the ways he could tame me right now..fuck I was so screwed if he kept biting his lower lips like that!

When we arrived at my best friends house, he helped me take her into dorm..she's so lucky she's living alone! Then he drove me to Pedri's mansion on the periphery of town..I learned during the drive that his mansion isn't far away either.

Must be nice being a young millionaire..smoking hot and wanted by every female in Spain..what is this I felt?? Was I really jealous!?

"Do you ever smile grumpy!?" I giggled as he opened the door seeing that I already took off my heels sighing before picking them up and carrying me bridal style into the house with a hidden spare key.

"I prefer to sleep at 3AM and not smile, vale!?" he said and I kept giggling like he was saying the funniest joke while resting my head onto his shoulder.

"You know about the spare key too..you guys are really close friends huh?" I say poking his cheek but he moves my finger while nodding his head.

"But..you'll lie for me..hmm..q..que mono" I poke him again as he quietly walks upstairs and into my room locking the door behind himself. He sushed me but I giggled making him cover my mouth with his veiny hand. Fuck it turned me on!

"Bueno, you're home safe and I can go..just don't wake Pedri up bueno?" he said putting me down but I reached to grab his hand and pull him back shyly..I didn't want him to go..fuck I wanted him so bad right now.

"Que haces pequeñita, huh? Eres mala..muy mala" he whispers the last part walking closer until my back his the wall and I were trapped there by his strong arms.

"Porque?" I play dumb biting my lip as Pablo raised my chin slowly licking his lips while looking at my hungrily.

"Your brother is right next door..and here you are..pulling me close..driving me crazy with that dress..and that sweet scent..you know I'm a man too" he slip his arm around my waist and a shiver moved down my spine as he whispered things into my ear.

"I'm so weak for you..f..fuck!" he whispered kissing the side of my neck and my moan rather loudly making him smirk but cover my mouth quickly.

"Do you want to get us in trouble pequeñita, huh?" he said and I shook my head making him uncover my lips and move closer making me unable to breathe from excitement.

"Mi nena buena.." he said kissing my lips passionately as my whole body melted into his strong grasp. Things were happening fast..as both of us ended up with our naked bodies interconnected and completely lost in each other forgetting about anything else.

Alarm was ringing as my head was pounding and I woke up resting on Pablo's naked chest...it's the first day of school..fuck!! Pedri's best friend was naked in my bed..FUCK!

Pablo somehow managed to sneak out since Pedri left super early for practice but he was late which made all the boys tease him during rondo.

"He must of been with a girl!" Ansu said passing him the ball and Pablo avoided Pedri's eye contact at all times. He screwed up badly this time..his little sister was off limits! Fuck!

"At least tell us she was a good fuck" Balde smirked and Pablo hit the ball little too hard hitting him in process before walking to run the mile. He was angry at himself, but also couldn't stop smelling me on his skin..I was his secret craving he couldn't stop thinking about.

Masa noticed my tired eyes the moment we met in class but she just thought it was a hangover from last night. I didn't tell her about Pablo..how was I supposed to start that conversation!? Not even one day in a new city and I already slept with my brother's best friend! Really good job Y/n!

pedri: me and gavi are picking you up at 3

me: and gavi?

pedri: yah, is that a problem? i'm his ride home after practice

me: no problem! see you at 3 hermano <3

"Fuck!" I said and Masa picked it up during lunch asking what was going on. I just made up a quick lie how I was sick from shots last night and needed to use a bathroom real quick before last period. Now I am lying to both my brother and best friend..fantastic job stupid!

When they arrived, I first looked at Pablo who was definitely checking me out in my little school uniform..I felt the same chills from last night. Mi nena buena..ran through my mind the entire time as I played with the edge of my school skirt.

"How was school hermanita?" Pedri asked and I just shortly answered that it was fine going back onto my phone avoiding any possible eye contact with Pablo who was clearly as uncomfortable as me in this moment.

"I need to get gas quickly..you two just wait here vale?" he said and before I could protest he was parked at the station and gone. My stomach was rumbling from hunger and nervousness and finally it was Pablo who broke the silence.

"You ate anything today?" he asked genuinely concerned but I just sassed at him for not texting me after last night.

"Since when is that any of your business!?" I say leaning forward to grab a pack of gum but my hair got into his face and I turned to look at him for a second..that's when all hell broke loose.

Gavi was all over me in the back seat of my brothers car pulling on my hair while kissing deeply as I ran my fingers through his curls..fuck I missed this for the whole day!

"Que hacemos!?" I say breathlessly after we pulled away for air and he pulled me closer resting his forehead against mine for a few seconds.

"I don't know pequeñita.." he answered quickly returning to his original position seeing Pedri paying and leaving the station before filling the tank.

"Everything alright here? If you're warm you can turn the AC on hermano?" Pedri said noticing Pablo's sweaty forehead and I giggled to myself in the backseat.

"You ready for tonight hermano? I heard those models will be there too, we can split them evenly if you want, huh?" Pedri was talking about this party tonight they were going to..somehow I was in such a bad mood suddenly.

"Whatever cabrón!" was all Pablo said but I were agitated nevertheless..of course he wanted a model like every other footballer! Why would he want a boring little schoolgirl. When we arrived home, I went out the car door slamming it hard and rushing to my bedroom.

"Que pasa con ella!?" Pedri said annoyed for mistreating his precious baby (the car ofc!) before he and Pablo went inside to play some FIFA and make plans for tonight.

"I don't care what they're planning!" I kept repeating but nevertheless ended up eavesdropping on my brother's conversation picking up the name of the club for the infamous party..a mischievous idea came to mind.

me: you in a mood for another VIP party??

Masa: you don't have to ask me that ever once tia!

Perfect! I thought to myself while picking up a perfect mouth watering outfit for tonight..game is on Gavi!

outfit I chose is tight black tight skirt with gold sparkling top..it was provocative but still lady like.Marching necklace and choker..I knew Pablo has the thing for it from how tightly he held my neck last night.

"Ready to go girlfriend??" Masa picked me up and I went to the club passing the line and walking up straight to the security guard.

"My name is Y/n Gonzalez..Pedri's sister" I say and the security guard didn't seem to believe me at first but when I showed him some pictures he nodded his head.

"And I'm supposed to believe you're both 18?" he said and I smirked giving him a paper with my number on it.

"You're supposed to believe I'll get you tickets for the next El Classico if you let me in" I said and he nodded taking the paper and moving to the side. Good thing everyone in this city is a football fan.

I passed through the dense crowd looking around for Pablo while Masa smirked at every cute looking guy at the bar. She knew her way around a crowd always winning in the number of free drinks she gets for the night.

There he was in all his glory..wearing all black..and with a girl sitting on his lap..her breasts were certainly bigger than her brain and almost spilling out of her shirt. I felt angry..and Masa noticed who I were looking at.

"I knew it! Next time you try to lie to me think twice! It's he you came here for tonight" she said and I pulled her away not wanting to get Pablo's attention when I were in such sour mood.

"I wanted to surprise him but looks like he has company.." I say and Masa smirks noticing Hector already eyeing me from head to toe..or rather from butt to breasts.

"So? You can have company too!" she said as he walked up to me offering a drink and I nodded wanting to show him that two can play the same game. Not even few minutes of dancing with Hector did you feel strong grasp pulling you away and into a secluded corner. Your back hit the wall roughly and you were eye to eye with furious Pablo Gavi...fuck he looked pissed off!

"And what exactly are you doing here pequeñita!?" he said dangerously low and your throat tightened as you looked into his dark eyes..fuck was he beautiful under the dim.

I couldn't make a sound from how nervous I was that he was this close to me right now and he knew exactly the kind of effect he was having on me..fucking asshole!

Next thing I knew his lips were back on devouring mine feverishly while his hands lowered on my waist and grabbed my butt shamelessly squeezing and making me moan into his mouth. The the image of that girl on his lap returned and you pulled away from him wiping my lips from his kiss..I were still angry.

"Can't believe you noticed me from her giant breasts!" I sass about to walk away but his grip tightened leaving bruises on my hips but I didn't mind..not if they were Pablo's. He kissed me again.

"Never wipe away my kisses off yourself! She came onto me..and it's cute that you're jealous pequeñita" he said moving my hair behind my ear.

"Just like Hector's hands came onto my butt.." I wanted to fight him back but then I felt a hard smack on my rear making me jump and him smirk victoriously..he was so good with playing with me!

"If that ever happens again I'll make your butt so red you won't be able to sit for weeks.." he whispered into your ear and you closer your eyes enjoying his lips on your neck and shoulders..fuck you were in public and didn't have a single care int he world!

"What am I to you P..Pablo..?" you moaned the question while he left his marks on your neck playing with your choker before wrapping his hand around your throat and looking you directly in the eyes.

"You're only mine pequeñita!" smirks kissing your lips one more time before taking your hand and sneaking you towards his car to drive you home.

Around that same time, Hector asked your brother about you...what a terrible mistake. The boy ended up with a bruise on his eye and you were grounded for a week when Pedri found out you were at the party that night..this was nothing compared to him knowing who took you home from that party ;)

#gavigif #gavi #fc barça #fc barca #fc barcelona #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi #gavira #pablo martín páez gavira #pablo gavira #pablogavixreaderfluff #pablogavixreadersmut #gavi x vini #gavi x yn #gavi x you #gavi x reader

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21wanderer · 11 months

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Meetup point

”Why is it taking him so long?” Leon said annoyed. ”Ssssh… Just be patient,” I hushed, ”André – I mean Frank – is going to pull through.” ”Yeah, but what happens if those guys get back on their bikes, then we’re screwed!”

Leon and I sat quietly at a picnic table at a small parking lot in a forested area. Only a few meters away stood our friend André (or Frank as we should call him now), along with two other bikers. And André was the one who was going to fulfill our dreams.

The three of us managed to overpower Frank, the guy in the Arlen Ness leather suit, on the nearby gas station toilet, then André slipped inside him, once he had been hollowed out, thanks to the bodysuit serum. With André in Frank’s body (we got the name by searching his wallet), the plan was in motion. Now we just needed André Frank to find us some suitable bodies, and we’ll be all-set. We’ve all wanted to do a bike trip together, but it had been many years since we've done that, we’ve all gotten older, and bikes were not part of our lives anymore... until I came up with this idea. I missed being on the open road, and I missed being young and strong, and the bodysuit serum was the solution to all our problems.

André was going to go to a common biker meetup point a stone’s throw from the gas station. Leon and I would wait on the sideline, whilst he would lure a couple of bikers into a trap.

We were in awe, when we saw the two guys André struck up conversation with, they were perfect; young, strong, handsome and wearing matching jackets. The last detail was the cherry on the top, once we were in, we had to get a matching suit for André Frank too, I think we would look great if we all wore the same suit.

Leon was apparently worried, they’d get away, but I had full faith in André, he was really good at talking and he knew more about bikes than anyone I knew, he was the perfect person to keep them occupied. I was however not sure, how we would turn them both into bodysuits, we either had to separate them and do one at a time, or to strike them both swiftly at the same time.

”They are coming this way,” Leon whispered anxiously. ”Just keep calm, and try not to look like you’re looking, they probably won’t even notice us,” I said in a calm manner, hoping that Leon would stop worrying so much. Granted I would be very disappointed too, if they got away, they were pristine examples, but we couldn’t afford to mess this up.

The three bikers began to walk towards their bikes. Leon was probably about to do another outburst, but he seemed to calm down, when he saw, they all took their jackets off. At least that meant, they weren’t leaving yet, and now I must admit, I felt the urge as strongly as Leon. Seeing those muscled, tan arms, broad shoulders and tight leather. I was hard enough already, and it was a struggle to contain myself.

”Which one do you want?” asked Leon. ”I am quite keen on the long-haired one,” I replied, his smooth tan skin, full chestnut brown hair and strong body, all things I didn’t have, I wanted it all so bad. ”Heh, fair enough, I really want the other one, never really liked long hair – but it will look great on you,” Leon said, the last remark sounded almost apologetic, not really that I minded, after all, hair can be cut, but it would be nice trying to have long hair for a change.

It seems like André was making his move, one of the bikers knelt in front of his bike, the other one’s attention was solely on the bike too. André was getting up, they hadn’t noticed him. This was it.

Leon clenched my shoulder hard, as the two bikers slumped to the ground. The standing biker first, the kneeling one second. André lifted their unconscious bodies and arranged them, so it looked like they were both just sitting on the curb, whilst their bodies were being emptied. André beckoned us. Leon and I hurried towards him, both eager to join him. -End-

#male transformation #body theft #body suit tf #male bodysuit #male body suit #male body transformation

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msmk11 · 3 months

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Marauders Era Gym HC’s

What I think these crazy kids would get up to at the gym.

A/n: I’m trying to have a more consistent workout schedule and writing this was very motivating for me. Enjoy!

James Potter

- James Potter is 100% an arm day guy. I mean, have you seen how broad his shoulders are? That’s not all natural baby. Whether it’s shoulder, back, chest, or arms, James is doing it. And boy is he strong. He could and would pick you up and throw you around like you weigh nothing because, well, to him- you don’t.

- His arms are so buff, most of his shirts strain under the bulge of his arm.

- When he bear hugs you you are literally smothered in his muscles.

- He’s so strong that he’s not always aware of his strength though..: Sometimes you have to remind him to loosen his grip on you, whether he’s holding your hand or hugging your waist.

- Two words: muscle. tees.

- Veiny hands ;)

Lily Evans

- Lily Evans, conversely, is a leg girl. One, that woman has legs for daysssss oml. But also, her thick thighs?

- Girl can squat 200 pounds easily.

- She also loves the stairmaster and anything that makes her ass looks nice (cuz me too).

- You know that trend where partners work out together and the stronger one finishes off where the other stopped? Yeah, James would give up on legs so fast and just stand in awe as Lily easily passes him and more.

- Those strong legs don’t just look great. They feel great too. If you know what I mean ;)

- Leggings.

Sirius Black

- To no one’s surprise, this man has to have it all.

- According to him, he needs to “look beautiful everywhere.” He does ab day, leg day, arm day, cardio, you name it.

- Sometimes he likes to do all in one day. Tbh he could spend hours at the gym and not get tired because he’s hyperactive.

- This man loves protein shakes like it’s no one’s business.

- Jacked. Literally everywhere. I mean he’s Sirius mf Black for a reason.

- Will listen to any music when he’s working out!

- Low-rise sweat pants

- Stamina. Necessary when Remus is your boyfriend <3.

Remus Lupin

- ABS ABS ABS ABS

- Remus Lupin, being a werewolf, gets plenty of exercise in his arms and legs. So when he works out, he prefers to do abs. Plus it’s something he’s able to do when the rest of him is sore after transitions.

- Has a six pack but is really good at hiding it. Everyone is always shocked when his shirt rides up while he’s pulling off his sweater.

- Our boy is still a little insecure so he likes to wear long sleeved baggy shirts when he works out.

- Listens to classical music when he exercises because it “grounds him.”

- Once Sirius learns about his six pack, he’s obsessed. Always begging for Remus to be shirtless.

Peter Pettigrew

- You will not catch Peter Pettigrew dead around weights and workout machines because he thinks they’re boring and monotonous as fuck.

- However, Peter loves to be active, particularly in sports.

- Whether it’s basketball, quidditch, football, soccer, etc. Peter will play it.

- He’s eerily good at picking up any sport he learns.

- Why, you ask, is he not on the Gryffindor team? Cuz he chokes under pressure.

- Plus, he wants to play for fun, not for competition.

- If he’s at the gym, you can guarantee he’ll be wearing some sort of graphic tee.

- Also, carries around a ginormous water bottle. Like the 85 ounce ones and downs it so quickly. (Ofc it’s red).

- He has beautiful skin because of how much water he drinks (and everyone’s jealous of it.)

Marlene McKinnon

- Marlene is not against weight training- she does it for quidditch all the time.

- However, she much prefers a workout that stimulates her overactive brain. That’s why she loves rock climbing.

- Not only does it make her ripped, she also likes the challenge of planning out each step, trying not to fall.

- She’s got strongggg fingers ;).

- Super light on her feet and flexible. She can climb those rock walls like a spider monkey.

- Sports drinks like Gatorade get her hyped.

- Opposite of James, Marlene is not broad but incredibly lean. Her muscles are so fucking toned.

- Sports bra with muscle tee.

Dorcas Meadowes

- She could not give less of a fuck about lifting weights. But, she lives and breathes cardio.

- This girl LOVES to run. When it’s nice out she likes to run on trails or around the Black Lake. When the weather is shitty she’ll run on the treadmill.

- And Dorcas doesn’t just casually jog, she likes intense running. While everyone else is struggling to keep up with an incline of 1, she runs at a 6 no problem.

- She has a hella good playlist to run to as well.

- Cardio=sweaty so you can be assured that she’s always in a sports bra and biker shorts. Even if it’s 30 degrees out.

- Girl also has long legs so she runs one mile SO quickly.

- Don’t even ask her to race because she will beat you, every time.

Mary MacDonald

- Mary does not like to workout alone. That’s why she loves exercise classes!

- She loves that with Zumba, she can dance for exercise.

- Girl loves cycling too and will try to convince everyone else to join her for a class.

- Hot yoga? Pilates? She’s there.

- She’ll even sign up for a water aerobics class and make friends with the sweet elderly women there.

- For her, working out is more of a social opportunity than anything. (Though the endorphins are a plus)

- You know Mary has the cutest outfits and leaves everyone wishing they had her clothes.

Pandora Lovegood

- Pandora doesn’t really care about nurturing the body as much as she does the soul and mind. So she’s big into yoga and meditation.

- Honestly, she could, and sometimes does, lead yoga classes for other students in the room of requirement.

- She will do yoga or meditation literally anywhere. Everyone knows not to bother her when she’s doing it.

- Miss girl is flexible though because of it.

- Calmest person you’ll ever meet and will make you try yoga when you’re feeling stressed. (Regulus pretends to hate it but secretly loves when she makes him do it.)

Regulus Black

- This man literally refuses to work out besides when he’s playing quidditch.

- Yet, he’s still fucking fit? Damn Black genes.

- Oh, he does get a lot of exercise from his late night brooding walks by the lake.

- Starting to do yoga a little with Pandora.

- If he does work out, he won’t go to a gym because he hates working out with other people.

#marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #the maruaders #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #lily evans #pandora rosier #regulus black #james potter #james potter fluff

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weebsinstash · 6 months

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could we get some valentino x male reader pls?

Bruh I've been actually on Valentino x male/intersex male Reader so hard lately (and I don't mention intersex for like fetish reasons but. I don't know what having a dick feels like and sometimes I'm like "well what if boy but. Vagine" and, shut up its my gender expression power fantasy, maybe I wanna have muscles and broad shoulders, leave me alone 💀)

Right off the top of my head, I've had ideas recently for:

-boy band lead vocalist! male Reader! Just. Ok. Imagine Reader and Angel having kind of a beef with each other and at some point it becomes a sort of "oh yeah, well I can XYZ better than you" kind of competition amd Angel says some shit like "you wouldn't know what it takes to come out here and strut for a bunch of perverts who look at you like you're a piece of meat" and you just hit him with some shit like "bitch I LITERALLY sucked FIVE DICKS so I could headline for the Superbowl, you fucking LOSER, you dont know ACTUAL music, i was AN ARTIST" and you start belting out something sexy with a choreographed dance that is clearly professional level skill

-male Reader with a little sister and you protect her from Valentino by offering to take her place. You've never sucked a single dick in your life and hell you might not even be gay but Valentino has your baby sister's life in his hands and, you've got to protect HER if not yourself

- ughhhhhh I'm probably gonna make this it's own post too but I've been ON my "unwilling red string soulmate" personal indulgence lately and. Just. Valentino who sees his red string appear and OBVIOUSLY he's gotta RUN to find his boo and he finds you and immediately thinks you're the most precious adorable sexy little thing, BUT. You just. Look straight at him and how HUGE he is and reply "i-im not... actually into men 😳" which is a LIE of course and, here's Valentino thinking, AW, his poor little baby gay! You've never had a boyfriend or gone to any clubs? TRAGIC! But also perfect because he is just TICKLED watching you get flustered beyond belief! So cute!

-I feel like. He would try and give you boners on purpose and think it's the cutest most erotic thing. He's got you sitting next to him and you're filled with liquor and he starts REALLY laying on the flirting, maybe even... places his palm on your upper thigh and BOOM. Hard as a rock and you can't even hide it because he makes you wear tight pants all the time. He's just over there, "what's going on amorcito? :3c you feeling a little hot under the collar?" as if he didn't just spend like 15 minutes talking about how he'd love to get you on your back and touch EVERY INCH of you, how he'd love to TASTE you--

-this is gender neutral but, convinced he eventually forces you to do some of those sexy pin-ups with him and one day you're walking around Vee Tower and he just has that shit HANGING UP. Poster You is just braced against his chest looking at the camera all demure and vulnerable while he's like. Got his guns out looking all tough like "mess with my pookie and you're through" and of course he makes you do. Sexy ones. Matching lingerie?

-I think of forced feminization with a male Reader sometimes actually. Like you wear boxy unflattering shit on purpose and one day Vals just like "you've got a small waist for a guy" and is checking you over. It starts off small. He starts wanting to style you. Then he wants you to update your skincare routine. Which is all fine right? But then he starts pushing his personal tastes. You've got such nice muscular thighs... which is why you would look so nice in some fishnets. He'd love to see your cute little butt in a thong while you cover your dick with your hands in MAJOR EMBARRASSMENT. You've got such pretty eyes; can Daddy put some mascara on you?

Valentino straight up punishing you by dressing you in full lingerie, your ass is in garters, heels, full glam makeup, and forcing you to pose for some cell phone pics

-still over here just mentally 🤌🤌🤌 at the idea of Valentino taking male Reader out with him and Angel and you've got matching outfits. You and Angel are in little skimpy, color matching fits while he's in a suit and gold chain, something that makes him feel powerful while he shows off his favorite toys

-I rllllly like the idea of like, a male Reader who is a honeypot assassin. You can be extremely charismatic and charming and seductive but it's all a front; you're an S tier actor and you take your targets down when they least expect it. The Vees are all at the club and some upstart wannabe new Overlord decides to attack and you just JOHN WICK THAT SHIT. Picture the Vees just sitting there, everything is peaceful, suddenly, in a flash, you move your serving tray in front of Valentino just in time to block a bullet. All three Vees are like wtf? How did you even know? What's going on? You proceed to totally wreck shit improvising weapons as the attacker and his goons charge forth and you even wind up grabbing a whip from a nearby dancer and using it as a WEAPON WEAPON and that shit looks like it HURTS. You're out here "Michelle Pfeiffer taking out 5 mannequin heads in one take"ing that shit. You're cutting people IN HALF (because having hell powers is cool leave me alone)

-i like the idea of male Reader who was a professional male model and a bit of a tailor himself, like a real kind of posh art student kind of type. You're with Valentino and Velvette notices how impeccably you're dressed and asks you where you bought it, you just, not so humbly brush yourself off. "Oh no, I made this myself. Nothing down here really fit my tastes" and suddenly you're like, custom designing wardrobes for ALL the Vees

Honestly just "Reader in XYZ Profession is exploited by Val/the Vees for their skills" is an idea I've had a lot. You have a hobby in baking so they always want food from you. You used to cook drugs so they make you work for them. You're a polyglot so youre taken along on business meetings to make sure none of the Vees business partners are planning shit in front of them. Like. Imagine just being the bitch who sits in the corner of the meeting room and shoots project/product ideas at them and it's like ACTUALLY successful and they're totally receptive and like you. You're just "Hey Valentino, what if you and Velvette did a collab on a waterproof mascara where you shot a porno in one continuous take so you can show the actor putting on the mascara, setting it down on the vanity, and then they start choking on a dick and their mascara doesn't run" like. They love you. Vox is just like "so, any new ideas today" and you're just using your VoxTek Premium Exclusive Black Card to cut coke into lines, "*snooooooort* uhhhhh.... I got some ideas for some stupid little mobile games you can put tons of micro transactions in? Like just before i died there was this one game that was getting really popular but it had a lot missing, we could-" and they could all just kiss you

-on God, Fs in the chat for virgin male Readers who have Valentino finally pop that cherry. I feel like he'd find out you've never had so much as fingers in your ass and within that WEEK you're being dosed with love potion and taking him balls deep

-Val's the kinda yandere where he tells you you're safe being closeted with him, he'll keep your secret, he'll let you stay on the downlow, but one day he so much as ASSUMES disrespect from you and he's immediately letting everyone know exactly who you belong you. You're arguing with him and you go completely silent and cross your arms or some shit and he just takes a hit from his cigarette, "you know you looked a lot more handsome when you were screaming on my cock the other night" and outs you just like that, either as gay or as fucking him or both. Imagine Angel not knowing you slept with Val and he immediately gives you this hurt expression BECAUSE HE TOTALLY DOESNT HAVE A THING FOR YOU TOO

-Valentino would absolutely make male Reader and Angel fuck while he watches and or films it, and also tbh I feeeeeeeel like. Angel would be ok with trans or intersex men tbh? Idk. It's not clear exactly what his taste in men is? He doesn't mind when men are shorter than him, so, like, is he a switch? He gives huge switch energy and let's face it, that's one TALL twink. I mean look at him holding Charlie! He's strong for his size too! Pole dancing takes a lot of upper body strength!

Oh no... not me suddenly thinking about a scarier yandere angel dust who is a lot stronger than you thought... Yandere Angel Dust who corners you and takes you completely by surprise and you get a GUTTING display of just how strong his arms actually are. You're thinking "oh he's just some lanky bottom twink, he couldnt overpower me, in fact I'm scared i might hurt him, he's delicate" but like HONEY HE CAN SUPPORT HIS ENTIRE BODY WEIGHT BY JUST HIS ARMS OR THIGHS. He's a FIT twink.

-ive said it before but uh once Angel Has It Bad Enough, like Bad Bad Bad, he's over here, "oh Daddy, I'm just soOoOo scared uxu ya know my buddy Reader, that one ya think is cute? Well, he was drinkin' earlier and he mentioned wanting to move FAR away and he wouldn't tell me WHERE 🥺 I'm just so worried he won't be able to take care of himself, you know, what, with all that trauma about his FATHER and-- oh he didn't tell you? He's really vulnerable to BIG. SCARY MEN and im wooooorrrrrriiiied, what if he gets hurt, talk to him Daddy PleeeeEEeEease? 🥺" like. He might still hate Val's fucking guts but he's high on coke and watching Valentino put some real inches in you and he's having the most explosive guilt-filled nut of his entire afterlife

-im sorry I'm just picturing Reader being like "I'm not fucking gay, fuck off, leave me alone" and Velvette just not even looking up from her phone, "I saw you using that $200 hand cream. You're so deep in the closet you're finding Christmas presents"

"I'm not fucking gay" "amorcito I've seen the pants you like to wear. No straight men wears those"

"I told you guys I'm not into men!!" "That's what I thought too until I met Al- VAL! Until I met VAL! [OuO']"

Then one night you're off work and none of the Vees or even Angel know where you're at and they wind up in a club and, there you are, getting absolutely fucking wasted, on top of one of the counters, you know those clubs that have random pokes everywhere, and you're dancing, you're getting real zesty with it, you're dropping your ass, and here's Valentino jumping to his feet pointing a finger, "so you DO know how to pole dance!!!" and your fate is sealed from there on in 💀💀💀

#yandsre hazbin hotel #hh #yandere hellaverse #yandere x reader #sinprompts

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maturemenoftvandfilms · 6 months

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Me and Mr. Jones

Featuring actor, Eddie Jones

Back in 2003, I was working as a grip on a low budget film called Fighting Tommy Riley. It was 5 day shoot, but I was lucky enough to meet one of my favorite character actors, Eddie Jones. Best known to audiences as Superman’s adoptive father Pa Kent on Lois & Clark: The New Adventures of Superman, when Eddie was on set, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. When he was off-stage, his broad, bright smile would light up the room. He was a sexy man for his age of 69 with his broad face, imposing presence and solid build. When he was off-set, his broad, bright smile would light up the room.

Everyone who knew Eddie as a friend, or had the good fortune to share the stage with him, was touched by his gentle and generous nature. He was very nice and enjoyed the attention I paid to him. Actually talked to me. What had seemed like just a cute, older guy on set turned out to be a seriously hot daddy for which I was developing a major hard-on. I enjoyed passing the time by watching him work, fantasizing about him being naked.

How much of that fur, if any, spread across the rest of him? Did being big of stature mean he had a small dick or was he one of "nature's surprises" like I'd met once or twice? I really wanted a chance to find answers to these questions, but knew it wasn't likely to happen. He's married, but we all know that does not mean a thing.

That evening, after a very good meal in the dining car, I began the walk back to my trailer. I saw him at the other end of a narrow corridor. Slowing as we approached each other, we exchanged pleasantries.

"Hey Eddie." I said as we came up to each other.

"Hi there! Did you enjoy dinner?" He asked.

"Oh, yes. It was great."

"Good."

It was clear he was on his way somewhere, so I stepped back against one wall to let him by. It turned into to a moment I'd never forget. Not only did he fail to avoid brushing against me as he squeezed past, but he made a point of slowing down and actually pushing his ass into me as he slid by. There was a relaxed feeling to his butt muscles against my crotch. I immediately went hard. I don't think I'd ever gone fully erect that fast. Ever. I didn't even know a guy could.

After he slid past me he looked over his shoulder and smiled. This wasn't one of his professional "have a nice day" smiles. No. There was a distinct twinkle in his eye. He continued down the corridor leaving me standing there staring after him.

"I'll be checking on you around 8:30." Eddie said without looking back.

"Fine." I replied with a dazed grin. I continued down the corridor, trying to smooth out the bulge he'd left in my pants.

At 8:30 sharp, I lightly tap on his trailer door. The door opened to those sexy blue eyes looking at me as he flashed that warm smile again. Eddie made a quick check to see if there was anyone to see me enter before letting me in. While stepping in he closed, locked the door in a single motion and we fell into an embrace, sharing a long passionate kiss. We began frantically pulling off our clothes. I didn't know if he was eager or just didn't have much time to "fuck around" before going home to the wife, but he wasn't waiting for any conversation. And I certainly didn't mind.

As his shirt came off I saw that, though not quite as hairy as some of the "chubs" I liked to see, but there was plenty of body hair to enjoy. His forearms were thick leading to those masculine hands I'd admired earlier. I continued down his stomach until it ended in a mostly black bush above his rising cock. I quickly dropped to my knees and took his dick in my hands.

His cut rod had a thickness that filled my mouth nicely as I slid my lips over it and took it down to its base. He exhaled slowly as he stood there, his hands on my shoulders. I could smell old fashioned cologne along with his natural musk. My tongue worked his fully erect shaft as I moved slowly up and down. I pulled up again to enjoy a good look at his knob before licking around the tip.

I pushed Eddie toward a nearby couch and he sat down. He leaned back and spread his legs wide allowing me better access. I worked my tongue around his dickhead as my other hand was feeling the hair on his balls. They were much larger and heavier than I'd expected. I thought about what his load might taste like. I took his dick in my hands, stroking up and down as I worked my tongue down under his nuts. I gnawed gently here and there, slowing the pace of my stroking on his dick. He moaned a bit, then a bit more. After a delicious minute or two he suddenly exhaled, "No!"

I was nearly knocked over as he jumped up. He was getting too close, too soon so I paused and waited for his cue. Whatever he wanted next, I was going to do my best to please him; not that I didn't have ideas of my own.

Earlier in the day I'd fantasized about what it'd be like to fuck him. Those fantasies were about to be realized as Eddie turned around knelt on the couch with his butt now at my eye level. I set in quickly on eating his ass. I covered his hole with my tongue and licked long, broad strokes up and down his crack. Starting low against the back of his balls and on up to where his crack ended at his tailbone. I continued slowly moving up then down again. He moaned deep and low. I could tell he was enjoying it as he squirmed a bit, pushing his ass back into my face.

I slid my tongue into his warm canal and continued to work my way in until I couldn't get my tongue in any further. Eddie continued moaning as I worked my tongue in and around. I felt him start to relax even more as he leaned forward laying his forehead on his folded arms, tipping his ass up a bit.

Eddie was breathing heavily when I finally stood up. He looked back without saying anything, but his sexy blue-eyed gaze told me he was ready for me to stick my cock in. I worked up some spit in my mouth, transferred it to my fingers and spread it around my fully erect cock. I set the tip against his hole and paused: this was the moment I wanted to last forever.

As the head of my dick slipped in he gasped. He was pretty tight and I didn't want to hurt him. So I kept the pressure constant while letting him take me in at his own pace, leaning back into me. Putting his hands against the back of the couch, Eddie rose up and pushed ass back and down on my dick. It was time to go in all the way.

"Yes…" Eddie moaned as he reached back to pull me against him, making sure I was all of the way in.

It looked so hot to see my cock was now firmly buried in. I pulled out and pushed back in. He turned back to face me again and I leaned forward to kiss him. We held a kiss as I worked his ass. He turned back to the wall and moaned as I continued, now moving a bit quicker. Every so often he would squeeze my dick with his ass muscles. I continued to pick up the pace. My fucking worked up to a solid rhythm, my balls occasionally slapping against him. He began moaning low. It was very quiet, but with an encouraging note. As I continued to fuck him his moaning grew louder. His ass felt so good that I knew I couldn't hold back much longer.

I was about to pop as Eddie pushed back hard into me. That was my cue to go for it. It was only another three or four strokes before I slammed up against him and held myself there, my dick in him as deep as it could get.

"Oh fuck!" I gasped as my cock began to throb, pumping my load into his ass. He was moaning and rocking, his warm hole enveloping my throbbing cock.

"Yes! Yessss…" Eddie said, ending in a whisper.

As my cock's throbbing lessened and I started to go soft I reached around and under to jack him off, but to my surprise, he had already cum. So I slowly pulled out and stepped back. Eddie stayed kneeling laying his head back down on his arms. I stared at his hole, now visibly open wider than when I'd first gone down on it. I could see traces of my cum as I watched the hole pulsing along with his breathing.

#Me and Mr. Jones #eddie jones #fan fiction #actor #american actor

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all-the-things-2020 · 6 months

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Joel’s Pony Party

Summary: You are planning a birthday party for your six year old niece. Turns out the guy who runs the pony party place offers you more than just a pony ride.

Rating: R (some sexual content toward the end); 18+ only, please!

Word Count: 6200+

Notes: I saw a horse trailer one day with a sign reading “Joel’s Pony Party” and my mind went on from there. This is an AU where there is no outbreak and Sarah and Ellie are the same age.

Maybe this was a huge mistake, you think as you steer your car down the increasingly potholed road. Obviously, a place with horses would be outside of town, but this didn’t look like the most savory area. Still, the pictures on the website had made it look nice, so you owed it to Ashley to check it out.

It had made so much sense at the time to volunteer to plan your niece’s sixth birthday party. Your sister was still knee deep in diapers with her youngest, Ashley’s little brother Jacob. Your brother-in-law was a sweetheart but useless at this sort of thing. His idea of entertaining was buying a 24 pack of beer instead of a 6 pack and buying the name brand chips for the queso dip. No, Ashley deserved a special birthday and you were going to give it to her.

You checked the directions you’d printed out from the internet. You should be close. The road curved slightly and you saw the neatly painted sign. “Joel’s Pony Party — Birthdays and Special Occasions.” The property looked much nicer than some of the places you’d driven past. The fencing was new and the driveway was freshly graded. So far, so good.

You drove through the gate and marveled at the paddock full of ponies and a couple of horses. Some of them lifted their heads from the grass to watch you drive past. They all looked healthy and well groomed. One of the bigger ponies, a flashy black and white pinto, tossed its head and galloped along the fence line, racing your car.

You parked in the graveled lot clearly marked “Guest Parking” and turned off the engine. A teenaged girl with an abundance of curly hair waved at you from the door of a tidy red barn. “Dad will be with you in a minute,” she called out. “You can pet the ponies if you want.”

The little pinto was trying to reach over the fence to you, so you obliged, scratching its nose and forehead. The pony smelled wonderful, like fresh hay and sunshine and that undeniable smell of horse that brought back your childhood. Trips to the pony ride at the park had been the highlight of your existence when you were five years old.

”She doesn’t have anything for you, Oreo.” The voice was slow and easy, not too deep. “Sorry, he’s a beggar. I’m Joel Miller.” The man held out his hand and you shook it. His grip was firm but gentle and his hand engulfed yours. You tried not to stare as you took in his broad shoulders and the neatly trimmed scruff on his face. A delightful combination of cowboy and businessman.

You introduced yourself. “I have to admit, I was a little concerned after driving past some of those places down the road, but you have a beautiful property.”

Joel nodded his head. “Thank you, ma’am. Sarah and I try to keep it up to snuff.” He tilted his head toward the girl. “If she ever outgrows her horse phase, I’m in deep trouble. Can’t keep this place goin’ without her.” He looked wistful for a moment, then snapped back to business mode. “So, you’re lookin’ for a place for your niece’s birthday. Let me give you a tour.”

He led you through the barn, which was cleaner than some houses you’d been to, and showed you the party area, a covered patio with brightly painted wooden picnic tables. Beyond it was a miniature race track. “The pony path,” Joel said. “Rather than one of those mechanical hot walker contraptions, we put the kids on a pony in there and let them walk around. Me or Sarah will stand in the middle and keep the ponies moving if they get too lazy, but otherwise the kids get to be in charge.” He chuckled. “Well, as in charge as anyone can be with a pony. Got some characters.”

Joel gestured toward a large shade tree. “Here’s where we hang the piñata.” Then toward a long table under a colorful awning. “And that’s where you can put the gifts and the cake. Keeps them out of the way of the kids.” He shuffled his boots in the dust. “We have two packages: Pony Princess and Cowpoke Experience. Most boys go for cowpoke but girls are pretty evenly split. Or we can do a hybrid if you’ve got boys and girls coming.”

He pulled a brochure out of his back pocket and spread it out on one of the picnic tables. As he leaned over, his shirt strained at his shoulders and it was all you could do to keep your focus on the brochure. And his thick finger as he pointed out the options.

”Pony Princess comes with a unicorn and the piñata is a dragon. We also have a trunk of dress up clothes. Fairy wings and princess dresses and magic wands, stuff like that. The birthday girl gets to wear a crown, ‘cause she’s the princess.”

”Cowpoke Experience comes with roping lessons and the piñata is a cowboy boot. No guns, but we have cowboy hats and bandanas and leather vests for dress up. And the birthday kid wears the sheriff’s badge.”

You glanced at the prices at the bottom of the pages and nodded. Yes, this would do. And even if it was a bit more than you’d planned, you’d gladly pay it to spend more time with Joel.

“Definitely Pony Princess for Ashley,” you said. “She’s in her Disney Princess stage right now and all her friends are into fairies and magic and everything.”

”All right, let’s get the calendar and see if we can get this scheduled for you. Sarah!”

Sarah popped out of nowhere. “Yeah, Dad?”

”Run and get the booking calendar, would you? Need to set up a party for this nice lady’s niece.”

”She seems like a good kid,” you said, desperate to make small talk so you wouldn’t gawk at the man in front of you.

”She is,” he said with a smile. “A lot like her mama was.”

”Her mother …” you didn’t know how to ask without seeming nosey.

”Passed on when Sarah was little,” Joel said softly. “It’s been just the two of us. Well, and my brother, when he’s around. And now the horses.” He sighed. “I used to be a contractor but I messed up my back pretty good and my cousin Louis was moving to Alabama so he offered me the place. Already had a good business doing pony rides, and it was Sarah’s idea to start doing birthday parties and events. She’s gonna be a party planner or something like that when she grows up. Organized and on top of everything.” He shook his head, a soft smile on his lips. He was clearly very proud of his daughter.

Sarah dashed up with a battered leather planner in her hands. As she laid it down on the table, she pulled a pencil out of her pocket. “See,” Joel said. “Always prepared.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “It’s just common sense, Dad.” She flipped the pages to the current date. “Hope we can fit you in close to your niece’s actual birthday.”

You perused the calendar. There were two sets of handwriting, one neat and precise but masculine, the other just as neat but more exuberant. You spotted the Saturday before Ashley’s birthday. “How about this day? I see you have something at 9:00 am but maybe we can do the afternoon?”

”Perfect,” said Joel. “How’s 2 o’clock? Gives us time to clean up after the morning event and then you don’t have to provide lunch, just cake and ice cream.” He smiled and you smiled back. Cake and ice cream were included in the price of the package, but lunches and snacks were not. You’d save a bit that way.

”Sounds like a deal,” you said. “Do we need to sign a contract or anything?”

”Give me a day or two to write it up and you can come back to sign it, if that’s not too much trouble?” He fixed his chocolate brown eyes on you and for a moment you couldn’t even breath, let alone form a coherent thought.

”Um, yeah, that’d be great,” you managed to say after an awkward moment. “You can call me when it’s ready and I’ll come out as soon as I can.” You scribbled your cell phone number on the margin of the planner, along with your name.

”Much obliged,” Joel said. “Pony Princess party, 2 o’clock on Saturday the 15th.”

”And when you come back to sign the paperwork, you can meet all the ponies,” Sarah said. “You can pick out which one your niece gets to ride.” She glanced slyly at Joel. “Maybe Dad can take you out on one of the horses, if you have the right shoes.” She looked down at your tennis shoes and shook her head. Like Joel, she had on well worn cowboy boots, the working kind, not the fashionable kind.

”I might have some boots that would work,” you said. “But I haven’t been on a horse in years. Maybe we’d better leave that to the kids.”

Joel looked you up and down, which made your face heat up. “You’d look good on a horse,” he said. “I think maybe Guapo?”

Sarah nodded firmly. “Oh, yeah, Guapo would be perfect for you. He’s a real softie, good with beginners but not one of those dead to the world type they give you at rental stables.”

“We’ll see,” you said. “I’d — I’d better be going. I have some errands to run before I head home and I’m sure you’re both busy. I’ll see you in a few days.”

”I’ll call you when I have the contract ready,” Joel said, nodding his head. If he’d been wearing a hat, he would have tipped it. “Nice to meet you.”

As you walked back toward your car, you heard Sarah giggling and Joel shushing her sternly. The kid was a pretty good wingwoman. You wondered how much a pair of real riding boots cost.

***************************************************************************

Joel called you two days later and you arranged to come by that Thursday to sign the contract and finalize the details. You rarely took time off work, so no one batted an eye when you put in for a half day of personal necessity because of an appointment. You left work and stopped off at home to change into jeans and a pair of low heeled boots. You finished off the outfit with a t-shirt that you’d gotten compliments on before.

As you turned into the drive at Joel’s place, you saw that the way was blocked by a large blue pickup. Joel was in the bed, tossing flakes of hay over the fence into the pasture.

“I’ll be done in a few minutes, then I’ll get outta your way,” he called out. He was wearing a dirty grey t-shirt with a couple of holes in it and his jeans were covered with dust, but he looked amazing. You didn’t mind waiting with a view like that.

”No worries,” you called back. “Do you need any help?”

”Ah, no darlin’, I’ve got this. Been bucking hay for quite a few years now.” He paused and wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his arm. “Louis’ dad, my uncle, used to have a full on cattle ranch when we were kids. Spent summers out there helping with the horses until I was thirteen.”

You got out of your car and leaned against the fender. “Must have been a dream come true for a Texas kid.”

Joel shrugged. “It was just work. Tommy always conveniently disappeared when it was time to muck out stalls, but I covered for him.” He returned to his task, easily breaking a bale of hay into flakes and tossing them expertly over the fence, each one landing a few feet from the previous one. The horses and ponies each claimed a flake of their own, except for a few squabbles involving the tiniest pony, a chestnut with a broad white blaze on its face.

”Stop it, you little shit,” Joel yelled, shaking his head. “That li’l Sebastian is the worst. He’s actually a miniature horse, not a pony, so he can’t be ridden and he knows it. Spoiled rotten. But he’s gentle with the little kids and the ones who can’t ride or are too afraid. Gets petted and fed carrots and never does a lick of work.”

Sebastian lifted his nose and pranced toward a tall white horse. He snorted and swished his tail and the big horse reluctantly yielded its hay to the little guy. “See?” Joel said. “Guapo, just step on him.”

The white horse sighed deeply and shook his head. Joel tossed a flake in his direction and it landed neatly in front of him. Then Joel hopped down from the truck bed. “I’ll get this ol’ beast out of the way and you can drive up to the parking area. I’ve just got to run up to the house for the paperwork, wash my hands, and I’ll be right back.”

You tried not to notice his backside as he stepped into the cab of the truck, but it was right there in front of you. He filled out a pair of jeans nicely.

You parked in the visitor lot, while Joel parked his truck off to the side. “Go on through the barn and sit at one of the tables,” he called out. “I’ll be there in a minute.” He walked quickly toward the neatly painted white ranch style house that stood behind the pasture, his gait a bit stiff. He’d mentioned hurting his back at work before starting the party business. It looked like it still bothered him.

You sat at one of the picnic tables. It was pleasant under the patio roof, which blocked the sun but allowed a nice breeze. Whoever had designed this place knew what he was doing.

Joel hurried back with a sheaf of papers in his hand. His hands were clean but the rest of him was still dusty. There were bits of hay stuck to his shirt and in his hair. “Okay,” he said, settling down next to you. “Let’s go over the details and then get this contract signed.”

It was hard to concentrate on the paperwork with him sitting beside you. He smelled like hay and sweat and horses and something else, maybe aftershave or deodorant that had a hint of something woodsy. Whatever it was, the entire cocktail of scents was enticing.

”So, the standard party comes with a sheet cake from Kroger and vanilla ice cream. The cake will say Happy Birthday and your niece’s name. You get to pick what color icing for the words and the border. And we put a plastic unicorn on top that she gets to keep.”

”Um, purple, she’s into purple right now.”

Joel nodded and wrote “purple” into a blank on the sheet in front of him. His handwriting was neat and precise.

”Okay, and the piñata will be a dragon, unless you want something else. No extra charge, all the piñatas are the same price.”

”Dragon is fine,” you said, distracted by a piece of hay that was lodged in the curls just above his temple. You fought the urge to reach out and remove it.

”You okay?” Joel asked.

“Um, yeah, you just … you have some hay …” You gestured toward his head and he brushed his hand through his hair.

”Occupational hazard,” he said with a gentle laugh. “Did I get it?”

”Not quite. Do you mind …?”

He leaned toward you and you plucked the hay stem from his hair, which was silky soft. You wanted to run your fingers through it so badly, but you contented yourself with removing the hay. “There, now you look presentable,” you said.

”Thanks,” he said softly. There was a pause, charged with something that certainly wasn’t business related. He cleared his throat. “Okay, so we have games.”

You half listened as Joel went over the games and activities that would be provided. You just nodded and agreed to all the standard choices. Ashley would just be thrilled to be around ponies and dress up with her friends. And if you weren’t talking, that meant you got to listen to Joel’s voice even more.

You reached the end of the paperwork and Joel handed you the pen to sign the contract. It was still warm from his hand and you shook just a little as you wrote your signature on the dotted line.

”All done,” Joel said. His eyes swept up and down your body. “So, you ready for that ride?”

Your tongue wouldn’t move. Had he really just suggested …?

“I mean, you wore jeans and boots, so I figured you were planning to take me up on Sarah’s offer.”

”Oh, yeah,” you said, shaking your head as the blood rushed to your face. “Sorry, I was just … yeah, a horseback ride would be wonderful.”

Joel swept the paperwork up. “Back in two jiffs,” he said. “I’ll just put this in the office and then we’ll get the horses ready.”

He ducked into a small room in the barn, then handed you a lead rope. You followed him to the pasture, where the horses were still nibbling at their hay. Joel opened the gate and walked inside, catching first the white horse, Guapo, and then a big strong looking bay horse. He took the lead rope from you and clipped it onto Guapo’s halter.

”He’s a sweetheart,” he said. “Just walk and he’ll go with you. Take him into the breezeway in the barn.”

You were nervous. You’d never handled a horse before, but Guapo was just as gentle as Joel promised. He walked alongside you, his head bobbing with the rhythm of his hooves, which clip-clopped against the hard packed dirt and the concrete of the barn floor.

Joel soon followed with the bay horse. You watched as he tied both horses to rings set in the wall and gave them a quick brushing. Then he brought out the saddles, which he handled as if they weighed nothing. It was fascinating to watch him tack up the horses, moving gently but quickly as he got them ready for the ride. Soon they were both saddled and bridled and you started to feel nervous again.

Joel showed you how to lead Guapo by the cheek piece of his bridle. “Just walk him over to the mounting block,” he said. “He knows the drill.”

Sure enough, the white horse stood next to the set of wooden steps so that they were perfectly aligned with his saddle. Joel smiled at you as he took the reins just under Guapo’s chin. “You okay to get on by yourself?”

”I think so,” you said. “It’s been years since I rode a horse.”

”Just remember, left foot in the stirrup, then hop up and swing the right leg over.” You felt incredibly exposed as you fumbled your way into the saddle. If you hadn’t felt Joel’s eyes on you the whole time, it would have been easier.

Once you were in the saddle, Joel led Guapo forward a few steps and then took your ankle in his hand. “Slip your foot out,” he said quietly. “I need to adjust the stirrups.” He pushed your leg forward so that your foot was on Guapo’s shoulder, then tugged at the leather straps. When he was done, he grabbed your foot and put it back into the stirrup. His hands were big and strong. He nodded and then went around the other side to adjust the right stirrup. Being man-handled, even so gently, was making you very aware of your body. You shifted in the saddle, glad your jeans were thick enough to hide the dampness that was spreading through your panties.

Once Joel was satisfied that your stirrups were good, he fetched the bay horse from the barn and swung into the saddle with a grunt that made your insides clench. “I’m supposed to use the mounting block,” he said, “‘cause of my back, but just don’t tell Sarah, okay?”

You nodded. “Okay, remember, hold the reins in your left hand, just above the saddle horn. Keep your fist up, like you're gonna do a thumbs up. Steer him like using a joystick on one of those old Atari games. Move your hand to the right to go right, left to go left, back toward your belly to stop or slow down. And sit back in the saddle when you ask him to stop. All right, let’s go.”

He tapped his heels against the bay horse’s sides and they walked off. Guapo followed behind after you gave him a gentle tap. It was a different world from up on a horse’s back. You could feel Guapo’s muscles moving beneath the saddle, hear his breathing and snorts as the other horse kicked up dust in his face, and the creaking of the saddle leather.

“Wow, this is so cool,” you said.

“This is nothing,” Joel said over his shoulder. “This is just a pony ride. You get good enough, there’s a place down by the river where the sand is level and smooth and you can gallop. Talk about a real cowgirl experience. Ah, shit, that didn’t sound right, I’m sorry.”

You laughed. “I know what you meant. And either way, it sounds amazing.” You felt the blood rush to your face again as the words popped out of your mouth. You hadn’t meant to flirt so hard. This was technically still a business transaction, after all.

Joel laughed heartily. “Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?” His eyes skimmed over your body once again. “You look good on a horse. Not everyone does.”

”Thanks,” you said. “So do you.”

The trail widened out and Joel pulled his horse back so that you were riding side by side. “You know, Sarah would kill me if I didn’t take the opportunity to ask you out. After the party, of course.”

”Of course,” you said. “And she’d probably kill me if I didn’t say yes. I mean, how often does someone literally bring you a white horse?”

”Gray,” Joel said. “Guapo’s not white, he’s gray.” He shook his head. “Shit, sorry, I’m used to teaching the kids about how white horses are really rare and most of the ones you see that look white are really grays … and I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

”Yeah, but it’s adorable,” you said. “Makes me feel a little less awkward myself.”

You rode in silence for a moment. “Can I ask you something?”

”Sure,” Joel said.

”Why’s he named Guapo? I mean he’s not ugly or anything but he’s certainly not Trigger or the Black Stallion, is he?”

Joel smiled. “Louis went to the horse auction to get some ponies. Saw this fellow in the pen and he looked like hell. Skinny, had a skin rash, just messed up. Knew he’d end up with the kill buyers, so he bought him. Everyone teased him about buying an ugly horse, but his assistant, Reynaldo, stood up for him. He said ‘Don’t let them laugh at you, you’re muy guapo, my friend.’ And it turns out, after they got him cleaned up and fed and everything, they checked his lip tattoo and he’s a Thoroughbred. Ran thirty races in his career and won three. Even was in a stakes over at Sam Houston when he was three. Finished up the track, but at least he had a shot at glory.”

”Wow, you were a racehorse?” You leaned forward to pat Guapo’s neck. He flicked an ear back at you. “He’s so gentle.”

”Smart horses, Thoroughbreds,” Joel said. “King here, he’s half quarter horse, half Andalusian. Talk about smart.” He patted the bay horse on the neck. “But he needs an experienced rider. Guapo knows how to take care of a beginner. King would just take advantage of them.”

You chatted back and forth as the horses walked down the trail. Joel was relaxed, sitting his horse easily, his eyes crinkled against the sun. You could have looked at him all day. And the way his hips moved with the rhythm of King’s stride …

Eventually, Joel glanced at his watch. “Better head back,” he said with a sigh. “Sarah will be getting home from school any minute and if she has to do more than her fair share of the barn chores I’ll get an earful.”

He turned King around and headed back up the trail. Guapo followed suit and before you knew it, both horses were trotting, eager to get home. Joel hardly moved in his saddle, but you were jolting all over the place.

”Ouch! How do you stay sitting down when they do this?”

Joel laughed mischievously. “Well, it helps that King’s got that smooth Quarter Horse jog,” he said. “Guapo was taught two speeds: walk and run. Off track Thoroughbreds have a real rough trot. Probably should have warned you.” He reined King back to a walk and Guapo dropped back into a less bone-jolting gait as well.

“Thought I was going to fall off for a second there,” you said.

“You were bouncing around quite a bit,” Joel admitted, although from the look on his face, he hadn’t minded watching you jiggle.

“You did that on purpose,” you realized.

“Had to give you the full cowgirl experience,” he said with a wink. You had reached the narrow beginning of the trail again, and he pulled King in front of Guapo, so you only had a view of his back, but you were certain he was smirking. You didn’t mind too much, though; the view was worth any amount of teasing you had to endure. Joel Miller had a mighty fine seat.

***************************************************

Sarah was leaning smugly against the side of the barn when you rode up. “Trying to stick me with all the chores while you’re off having fun, huh, Dad?”

”If I recall, it was your idea I take her out for a ride,” he said, swinging easily off King’s back. Sarah took the reins and led the bay toward the barn. Joel came and stood next to Guapo’s shoulder.

”You need any help getting down?”

”I think I can manage,” you said. You weren’t as graceful as he was, though, and stumbled a bit as your left foot caught in the stirrup on the way down. Joel’s hands were there to steady you.

”Kick both feet clear before you get off next time, then you won’t have that problem,” he said gently. “But otherwise, I’d give it a seven.” His hands were warm against your arms.

”Ah, geez, Mr. M, there’s kids here.”

Joel rolled his eyes. “Ellie, what the hell are you doing here?”

You both turned to see another girl leaning against the barn. She was around Sarah’s age, her brown hair pulled back in an untidy pony tail and a defiant smirk on her face.

”Sarah invited me,” she said. “Said you were making chili for dinner and you know they don’t feed me at that place.”

”That is one hundred percent grade A bullshit,” Joel said. “I know for a fact that Mrs. Morales is a great cook. She brings stuff to the PTA meetings all the time and we all fight over it.”

Ellie shrugged. “Exactly. All us kids have to fight over it, too. At least around here there’s only two other people I have to compete with.” Her eyes narrowed at you. “Maybe three, huh?”

”She’s not staying for dinner,” Joel said. “Unless you want to …?”

”Thank you, but I should probably get going. I left work early today and there’s some stuff I need to take care of before I go in tomorrow.” If it had just been him and Sarah, you would have said yes in a heartbeat.

Sarah came back out of the barn and took Guapo’s reins. “Way to just stand there, Ellie,” she said. “You could have helped.”

”I thought I was a guest,” Ellie whined, as she followed Sarah and Guapo into the barn.

”It’s still polite to offer help,” Sarah said.

”Sorry, I wasn’t raised in a barn like some people,” Ellie replied.

Joel shook his head. “Those two. Ellie’s in foster care. Nice family but poor kid’s been bounced around so much she keeps a wall up. She likes Sarah, though. And she’d never admit it, but she loves the ponies. Caught her braiding flowers into Sebastian’s mane one day.”

He walked you back to your car. “So, I guess I’ll see you on the day of the party.” He shuffled his boots in the gravel.

“Yeah, I guess so,” you replied. “Um, thanks again for the ride. I had a lot of fun. Although my backside might have another opinion by the time I get home.” You rubbed at the seat of your jeans.

”You and your backside are welcome any time,” he said. “And I meant it about that date after the party. We’ll go somewhere nice, I promise. You won’t have to wear jeans.”

”Anywhere is fine if it’s with you,” you said without thinking. “I mean … I’m not fussy. I don’t expect a first date to be …”

Joel ducked his head and smiled. “I hear ya,” he said. “I just want it to be special because I think you’re pretty special. I mean, doing all this for your niece … you’re a good aunt.”

”Just kiss her already,” Ellie yelled from the barn. “There’s barn chores to do, Mr. M!”

Joel shook his head. “I swear, if that kid hadn’t already had such a rough life …” He leaned forward and kissed you on the cheek. “That’s an IOU for a real kiss. Once you’re no longer a customer.”

”I expect full payment on that,” you said. “I’ll see you at the party.”

You got into your car and pulled out. Joel stood watching you drive away and you got butterflies in your stomach. Maybe this whole party thing was turning out to be more of a present for yourself than for Ashley.

*************************************************************

The morning of the party was pure chaos. Ashley couldn’t decide which princess dress to wear, the baby was fussy, your brother-in-law had a cold and was sneezing his head off, and your sister was about ready to break down in tears.

”I’ve got this,” you said as soon as you arrived at their house. “Ashley, why don’t you wear the purple dress? It’ll match your cake. And you can wear your jeans underneath so it’ll be more comfortable riding the ponies.” You took Jacob and started to bounce him up and down. “Sis, go get yourself ready.” You turned to your brother-in-law. “And you, go take a dose of DayQuil and then sit down and rest.”

Eventually, everyone was in the minivan and ready to go. You volunteered to drive, since you knew the way. Your sister sat in the passenger seat beside you.

”Thank you again for planning all this,” she said. “I know it was a lot of work, but Ashley is so excited to ride the ponies.”

”Well, it wasn’t all that hard,” you admitted. “Joel’s got a really nice set up and he took care of all the details. All I have to do is show up and pay the bill.”

”You like him, don’t you? I can tell by the way your face lights up when you talk about him. And you’ve been talking about him an awful lot for someone you’re doing business with.” She winked.

”I do like him,” you said. “We’re going to go out soon. After the party is over, when I’m not a client anymore.”

”Good for you. You deserve it.”

You were the first car to arrive, which made you sigh with relief. Sarah waved at you from the barn. “Welcome! Is this the birthday girl?”

”It is,” you said, leading Ashley over while your sister and brother-in-law got Jacob out of his car seat. “Ashley, this is Sarah. Her daddy owns this place.”

”Lady Sarah Miller at your service, Your Majesty,” Sarah said with a curtsy. “You’re the princess today, so let’s get your crown!”

She led you through the barn and both you and Ashley gasped when you saw the party area. There were pink and purple streamers and balloons hanging from the roof and every table had a runner of white butcher paper and several small buckets of crayons. A big gold painted armchair sat at the end of the table closest to the gift table. It was draped with purple cloth and a glittery plastic crown sat on a purple cushion.

”This is your throne,” Sarah said. “Because it’s your special day and you’re the princess, you get to sit in the best seat in the house.” She helped Ashley put on the crown and secure it to her hair with bobby pins.

“And now, before your guests arrive, let’s meet your unicorn!”

Joel appeared, leading a white pony with a golden horn attached to its forehead. Its mane had been dyed all the colors of the rainbow. “This is Alabaster,” he said gently, crouching down to Ashley’s level. “She’s a very special unicorn and she only comes to visit the farm on days when there’s a princess here. So we’re lucky you came.”

Ashley fell in love with Alabaster and immediately started petting her. Sarah showed her how to offer carrots on a flat palm so that Alabaster couldn’t accidentally nip her. “Unicorns love carrots,” Sarah said. “They’re like candy to them, so sometimes they get a little bit greedy, just like we do. So we have to be careful they don’t hurt us with their magical teeth.”

You turned to Joel. “This is beautiful,” you said. “She’s going to remember this day for the rest of her life. Thank you.”

”Just doin’ my job,” Joel said. “Although we did throw in a few extra touches special for Ashley. And there’s one more surprise just for you.” He gestured for you to follow him. Around the side of the barn stood Guapo, his mane braided with flowers and a silvery unicorn horn parting his forelock. “Sarah and Ellie thought you might enjoy a unicorn of your own. Ellie did the mane, believe it or not.”

“Oh, Joel, he’s … he’s beautiful.” You stroked Guapo’s face. The gelding looked a bit embarrassed to be all gussied up, but he leaned into your hand. “But you know a real unicorn can only be tamed by a maiden fair. And it’s been a long time since I was a maiden, if you know what I mean.”

Joel grinned. “Well, Guapo’s a special kind of unicorn. He doesn’t care about all that. He just looks for a woman who’s pure of heart, the kind of woman who would go to great lengths to give her niece a special birthday.” He laid his hand on Guapo’s face, his fingers just brushing against yours. “And as his human sponsor, I for one have no use for fair maidens.” His voice lowered. “I like my ladies a bit more experienced.”

”Oh, I know how to ride,” you said. “Guapo can tell you that.”

“Well, there’s a difference between what Guapo and I expect on a ride,” he said. “But we can talk about that later. Right now, we’ve got a pony party to put on!”

********************************************************************

”Damn, girl, you weren’t kidding when you said you knew how to ride,” Joel said, his hands digging into your hips. You were straddling him, his cock buried deep within you, chasing your second orgasm of the night.

“Helps if you have a good mount,” you said. “One who’s well trained, knows what he’s doing, and listens to your cues.” You worked your hips against him, inching ever closer to a climax.

Joel bucked under you. “Helps the mount if the rider is good,” he panted. “Gotta work as a team.”

You’d had dinner at a local Italian restaurant and then had gone back to his place. Sarah was spending the night with a friend, so you had the whole house to yourselves.

Your body stiffened as you tipped over the edge, and Joel soon followed you, giving one final thrust as he spent himself inside you. “Hot damn,” he said, as you slid off of him, careful not to disturb the condom. “I don’t normally do this on a first date, you know.”

You flopped down beside him. “Neither do I,” you said. “But with Sarah out of the house it was too good an opportunity to pass up, don’t you think?”

He disposed of the condom and brought a washcloth from the bathroom. After you had cleaned yourselves up, he gently held your chin. “I like you,” he said seriously. “Sarah likes you. The horses like you. I think … maybe we can make this work.”

”So do I,” you said. “I want to try, as least.”

”Guapo’s a good judge of character,” he said.

”Unicorns usually are.”

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #horses #ponies #unicorns #the last of us AU

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