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covetyou · 8 months ago

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howl-o-ween

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist ⋆ series masterlist

pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: Explicit (18+ only!) warnings: sex toys (a cock sleeve like this one), unprotected P in V, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), squirting, creampie, Joel in a dress, reader likes Joel in a dress, teeth as a euphemism for balls, talk of knots but this is not a/b/o, fluff. word count: 6k summary: The light beckons you over like a moth to a flame, and your weary bones follow, taking you across three lawns and up the steps, straight into the arms of Joel Miller.

A/N: a few months ago @missredherring said "how do you feel about those werewolf dildos?" and changed the entire tragectory of this fic. thank you, I love you 💛 this one's for you bb, and that beaut of an oracle card you pulled, position and all.

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The porch light is on when you get home and pull into your empty driveway. It was like a beacon - drawing your eye where it so often drew all of you; across three lawns and straight up the steps to Joel's front door.

Though, this time, it's not lit for you. It's not there to guide you through the darkness and into his waiting arms. And, though you'd never admit it, you feel oddly territorial about it - jealous. That's your light. Except, for today, it's not.

Today, it's illuminated for the swathes of little ghouls and beasties that have been stomping the streets in search for treats, swarming like a plague of locusts on each household until candy buckets were empty and one by one, the lights shut off.

But not Joel's.

You try to push it to the back of your mind as you fumble with your keys in the darkness of your own front porch, and stash yourself away inside to wearily climb the stairs to wash the day away. The shower you take is hot, yet the heat does nothing to stop you thinking of him, wondering whether that light was just a forgotten detail of the day or a beckoning call to the only person who would really understand it.

Even when you step out from the stream of water and stretch, pushing deep into one hip and another, all you can think about his him and how much better he could make all of this. The pains he could soothe, the emptiness he could fill, the ache between your legs he could make so much, much worse.

That's how you end up standing at your front window, face pressed to the glass, staring at the light that's still taunting you, wondering if maybe it is on for you after all.

It's also how you end up halfway down your driveway before you even think to call or text him.

And, as you step onto his porch in mismatched pajamas, unlaced shoes, and a flannel shirt that wasn't your own, you think you're somehow the most strange and yet most normal thing to have climbed up here tonight. There's no witches hat or vampire teeth. No empty bucket in your hand or silly t-shirt.

No, it was just you - tired eyes and all, hoping that the light that had been a signal to them was now a signal to you, and that he'd be happy to see you.

There's a shuffling stomp behind the door after you knock. Then, it's swinging inward so suddenly you jump back as something distinctly Joel-sized growls from behind a black net, only to stop with a surprised cough when you stare at it with wide eyes. One large hand tugs the net down and tosses it to the side, and the toothy grin of a dark eyed wolf greets you in the doorway.

It's undoubtedly Joel. You'd know those shoulders anywhere, even if they are beneath the prettiest pink dress you've ever seen. You look him up and down, eyes darting from the bonnet on his head, the stifling plastic mask strapped to his face, before pulling down his chest, following pink all the way down until pink turns into the gray of well worn sweatpants.

With a huff, he tugs at the mask, yanking it from his head to reveal ruffled hair, rosy cheeks, and a bashful look in his eye that says he's almost embarrassed to see you.

"Thought you were a trick-or-treater," he says, with a nervous rub to his neck.

"And I thought you were my Grandma."

"Very funny," he says, rolling his eyes and pulling you in toward him, closing the door the second you're in over the threshold. "Been waitin' for you."

If that wasn't the confirmation you needed, it is when he snaps the porch light off and leans down to kiss you against the wall, pinning you there with one broad hand to your waist while the other latches and locks the door.

"Joel, what about Sarah," you say after a moment, turning your head from the heat of his kiss.

"Little Red ain't here. Last minute change of plans. Her mom came to pick her up for some party her neighbor was throwin' for the kids. Been on solo door duty all evenin', killin' time waitin' for you."

You kiss him then, tugging at the curls at the back of his neck while his hands roam under the flannel shirt you'd stolen from him some weeks ago, feeling up and down the curve of your spine as you arch into him. Where you had felt so exhausted moments ago, you now feel energized, ready to leap at him and let him do as he pleased with you, even if it was right here against the door.

"So..." you mumble into his mouth, through soft kisses neither of you seem to be able to resist pressing to each others mouths. "You've been by yourself... for four hours... in a dress?"

Joel stops kissing you the moment he feels your lips twist upward into a smile.

"What if I have? Problem with that?" he says, with a quirk to his eyebrow as he stares down at you, still pinned to the wall.

Briefly, you consider if you really do have a problem with it. Mostly because you realize, as you look at him and the dress wrapped around him, that you really, very much, do not have a problem with it at all. Even in swathes of pink and frills, he's beautiful, and you can't stop thinking about the shape of him hidden beneath the loose drape of fabric.

"No," you say with a shrug, trying to keep the heat out of your cheeks. "You look great. Pink suits you, Grandma Joel."

A growl makes it's way up Joel's throat and he nips at your lips, tilting your head back with one strong hand and grabbing your wrist as your fingers plays idly with the fabric of his dress with the other.

"Do not call me Grandma," he says, pulling your hand down to the front of his skirt. "Feel like a Grandma to you, darlin'?"

"I can't say I've ever felt a Grandma before but - Oh, my," you say with a smirk, catching Joel's eyebrow raised in warning. You grind your palm gently against him, wiggling your fingers down and down, cupping the heft of his balls, feeling as the blood that was reddening his cheeks pumps to his cock, thickening it beneath your hand. "What big... teeth you have. Very big teeth."

"You sure about that?"

You nod into the cradle of his hand, his fingers scratching gently at your scalp as you tease and taunt him. "Uh-huh. Biggest teeth. Best teeth. My favorite teeth, actually."

"Never had any teeth you like better, huh?" he says, holding back a laugh.

"Never," you say, grinning back. "Question is, are they still your own teeth, Grandma?"

He growls again then, spinning you from the wall and scraping his teeth against your neck. He moves you back - further from the door and further into his home, guided only by the flickering light of the TV. He sucks the blood to the surface on your neck, bruising you while you sigh and turn to putty into his arms and then, with a sharp pinch to your ass and a swift smack that sends the muscle jiggling, he's pulling back and pushing you toward the stairs.

"Get your ass upstairs. I'll give you fuckin' Grandma."

You practically squeal in delight, cackling as you kick off your shoes and make a run for the stairs, legs quaking as you try to take them two at a time, give up half way and scramble up the rest of the way with your hands.

At the top, you turn to look at the smirking figure of Joel.

"Are you gonna come eat me, Grandma Joel?"

You can hear as he cracks his neck and rolls his shoulders, clicking his tongue against his teeth. You can barely hold in your giggles as he tries to look menacing in that pink dress, slowly ascending the stairs and staring daggers into you.

"You're lucky you're so damn cute, or there'd no fuckin' chance I'd be getting hard enough to give you what you're actin' out for," he grumbles, having to lift the skirt above his knees to stop himself from tripping.

"Is Were-Joel better?" you say through a laugh, taking a step back as he finally towers above you again when he reaches the top of the stairs and drags you toward his room.

Pulling you inside, he claims your mouth with a bruising kiss, cradling your head in his two massive hands while his tongue licks into your mouth.

"Were-Joel is stupid, but yeah," he mumbles into you, "Were-Joel is better."

Together, you make quick work of your own clothes. The flannel is the first thing to go, tossed straight onto Joel's laundry hamper for him to deal with. You'd steal another soon anyway. Your pajamas follow - t-shirt dumped on the floor and shorts pulled low enough for you to wiggle them the rest of the way down and kick them off the end of your feet. You moan the moment Joel's warm, rough hands connect with your bare skin, grabbing every part of you he can reach. He gropes your breasts in both massive hands, puckering the flesh with the soft grip of his fingertips, while your hands find his neck and scratch. He groans, stretching into the itch of your nails across his skin.

The front of Joel's dress has started to tent. You can feel it every time he grinds forward, pushing you back until you're forced to hop up onto his bed, legs spread so he can slot between them.You hold yourself to him, scratching through the pink fabric while his soft bulge stiffens with each roll of his hips into your clothed core.

Then, when he goes to yank the dress over his head, you stop him, gripping tight to his hands and sheepishly shaking your head.

"Leave the dress on? Just for a little bit."

Your face is hot as you say it, and Joel's inquisitive look turns to a laugh, then a smile, crinkling his eyes just before he gently bumps his nose into yours.

"Yeah?" he says. "You really like it, huh?"

You shrug, "Pink's your color."

"Really? S'the color that does it for you."

"Careful."

"Careful?" he taunts, licking his tongue across his teeth and looking you up and down. "Or what?"

He's still between your legs. He's still hard, he's still looking down at you, and he's still between your legs. Taking a deep breath, you try not to let the heat of him distract you, or the way he looks at your near naked body as you straighten your shoulders and look him straight in the eye. "Or I'll... huff and I'll puff and I'll blow you...r house down."

You hear his eyes as they roll in his head, and you have to stifle a laugh with a hard bite of your bottom lip.

"Come on. Ain't even the same fairytale any more, darlin'."

"So?"

"So, as the only wolf around here, and given you ain't got anythin' for me to blow, I best get to eatin'."

You fake gasp and clutch a hand to your chest, giving him a scandalized look as you try to mask the not so subtle way you feel the muscle of his arm flex beneath your other hand.

"No, Gran- Were-Joel, don't eat me. I promise I don't taste good."

"Now that's a damn fuckin' lie," he says just as your world is tipping on it's head, your legs pushed back and toppling you back onto his sheets in fits of laughter. "Best pussy I've ever tasted."

Forcing a deadpan look onto your face, you sit up on your elbows while he tries, and fails to grab hold of your panties. "Oh," you say. "Oh, we're talking about that kind of eating?"

One long, slow blink from Joel later, and you're laughing again, curling in on yourself, while he gives up with your panties and instead pulls down his sweatpants beneath the dress, and kicks them away.

"You're gonna be the death of me, you realize that, right?"

The touch of his lips to your thigh calms your giggles in an instant. Then, when the scruff on his cheek brushes your other thigh, you let your legs fall apart.

"There she is," he murmurs between your legs. "You gonna stop playin' around and let me take care of her now?"

You nod down to him, breath suddenly stolen from you as you look down at Joel, pretty in pink.

"Good."

With that, he presses a kiss to your clothed mound, taking a deep breath and mumbling something you think sounds like "so fuckin' good", before working fingers under the waistband and pulling them off your legs, leaving you totally nude.

"So fuckin' beautiful," he says, as he lowers himself to the floor between your legs. "Get more beautiful every time I see you, y'know that?"

His lips suck at your inner thigh then, nipping the skin before he trails kisses up higher and higher, tugging you slightly to pull you down the bed and closer to his waiting mouth. You're in half a mind to joke about your pussy being flattered, but you know the time for jokes is over, and that what he said he very much means, when you look down to see his dark eyes staring straight back at you before he makes that first, delicious swipe of his tongue across your cunt.

He starts softly. Kitten licks to your labia, slowly tasting all of you, before kissing around your clit were it waits for him, less and less patient as his teasing goes on. His thick fingers rest on your thighs, kneading and stroking the delicate skin while is tongue flicks out to make a tentative, soft lick over your clit. Then, he's sucking it into his mouth, releasing, licking, and kissing it before starting the cycle all over again, making out with the sensitive nub and suckling away at it while you start to moan and sigh beneath him.

You were right. This was the exact kind of ache you wanted him to give you. Throbbing, deep, and desperate. Each swipe of his tongue making you want more. A self fullfilling prophecy of tongue fucking you into oblivion, and you wish you had the patience to stay here forever, to not want to be pushed over the edge by him and his wicked tongue.

He parts you with his thumbs, spreading you wide and using the digits to dip inside ever so slighty, igniting your core and making you whine for more. He gives it to you - one finger slipping into his mouth and coming out slick before tentatively dipping into your hole, fucking you with the tip until he can sink it down to the knuckle.

Sliding another finger in, he circles your clit with a soft tongue, fingers moving slowly as they stretch you. You arch your back into him, already feeling the tightness in your belly coil, ready to snap the second he picks up momentum.

"Two good?" he murmurs, breath ghosting over your twitching clit.

The noise you make is neither a yes or a no. Two is good, but you're not really sure two is enough. There's a stretch you're craving, you think, and you don't quite know how to put words to it, so your vague "ungh" will have to do.

Somehow, despite not even really knowing yourself, Joel does.

"Want more? I can give you more, darlin'," he says, slipping in a third finger, letting the stretch ease as you groan through it, before pumping them gently and returning to his steady, measured licks over your clit.

That's it, you think, and your eyes are closing, sending you away with the sensation of Joel between your legs, fucking his fingers deep and flicking his tongue against your swollen clit again, and again, and again.

Your fingers are gripping the sheets, your head is turning from side to side, your back arching as you whine and quiver, begging Joel for something, anything, and then the pace picks up, the delicate circles of his tongue turning firmer until your feet are pressing into the mattress and you're pressing into his face, the orgasm you were chasing smashing into you while you fuck yourself against his fingers, his mouth.

Then, he's pulls the wet heat of his mouth off of you, kissing all around your dripping pussy as it pulses around his fingers, your legs now floppy and boneless.

"Y'good?" he pants, sliding his fingers from your core and giving you one final lick, tasting your slick hole and nudging his nose into your clit, humming a laugh when you twitch with sensitivity.

"So good," you slur, watching him stand up, pink dress creased at the knee, and a distinct darker pink spot right at the tip of the prominent tent in the fabric.

You're very awake suddenly, when you see it.

"You can take it off now," you say, not bothering to look him in the eye when something much more important has your attention.

"Can I?" he teases, wiggle the dress up to his knees before dropping it down again.

"Take off the fucking dress, Joel."

You can't explain how much you want him in this moment. Your slick is still on his fingers and his chin, and he's rock solid for you beneath the dress and you think that, somehow, he's never looked better. Only, you think - no, you know - he'd look better with the dress off now, wearing nothing but you sheathed around his cock.

He grabs at his crotch through the dress, gripping around his length so you can see the outline of him clear as day, a trail of wetness pulling up from the bigger patch that had been forming.

"It's Were-Joel," he teases.

"Take it off, Were-Joel."

He does. One second its around his broad shoulders and the next it's off, thrown somewhere behind him, and he's completely naked, cock standing to attention in front of him, the tip slick and shiny with pre-cum.

"This what you after?" he says, holding the thick shaft by the base and shaking it toward you.

"Just give me your werewolf cock already, Were-Joel," you joke, reaching for him and spreading your legs shamelessly for him. "Or I swear, I'm gonna start howling."

You can practically see the lightbulb flick on above his head.

"Oh, I got somethin' to give you alright," he says, and you watch his work-toned back as it retreats into the bathroom, ass wiggling with each step.

"Don't you dare, Joel," you say as the door pulls closed, leaving you there on the bed. "Joel!"

Of course, you could get up and follow him. You could throw yourself back and get frustrated with being left so suddenly.

Instead, all you feel is excitement as it creeps up your toes, wiggles its way through your belly, and settles at the back of your throat in an excited, stifled, giggle. You hadn't had a surprise from Joel in some months and, while the sex was excellent, there was something thrilling about not knowing what he'd come out with next. You already knew there were some secrets he was keeping - he never did let you into his toy drawer unsupervised - but knowing you were very likely about to get treated to one of the many weird and wonderful toys Joel had was making you giddy.

You just about stop the excited vibration of your legs when Joel comes out of the bathroom. You're not sure what you expected, but at first glance, you don't see much of anything wrong.

Even when he tosses a bottle of lube onto the bed behind you, you can't see anything different. It's only when he turns to the side before climbing up beside you that you see the seeming deformity to his cock - a large bulge near the base that definitely wasn't there before.

Then, you see the silicone ring hugging his balls, and it all clicks into place while Joel looks at you with amusement.

"Oh my god," you say, staring at it with your mouth open.

If it wasn't clear silicone, maybe you would've seen it more easily. The lump is sheathed over his dick on a cock sleeve, held to him with a cockring fitting snugly over his balls, and sat right at the base of him where you so liked to sit yourself.

"Wanted a werewolf cock, didn't you?" he says, grinning lopsidedly while you stare. "Remembered I had this thing."

"There's no way I can take that, Joel," you say, finally looking up at him now that he'd climbed beside you, hands skating over your body again now that he was finally close enough.

"Don't have to take all of it, darlin'," he says, kissing your shoulder. "Can take it off right now if you really want. Though I do remember a certain someone takin' both my balls in their tight little cunt not too long ago."

You swallow thickly, his mouth sucking gently at your neck while his hands stroke softly across your belly, your thighs. "That was different, I... fuck, Joel."

In truth, you do want it. The whole thing, weird Were-Joel knot and all. So, you turn to him, catching his mouth with yours, and reach for that bottle of lube, steely determination in you when you finally grip his cock with your free hand.

"Give it to me."

He lights up, fire in his eyes, and pushes you down, grabbing and kissing you as you try to push him up, hook your legs around him, pull him in closer, to line him up with your core so you can feel the rippled bulge of the silicone knot as it slips up and down your slick pussy.

Joel drizzles lube over the top of his cock, gasping when the cold liquid hits him, before turning the bottle to you, watching the clear fluid dribble out over your cunt. It's cold when it hits, trickling down your seam to wet the bed beneath you. Neither of you care, not when Joel's fingers are swiping through the mess and pushing in, other hand on his own cock, stroking the head as he fucks fingers into you and feels you flutter around them.

"Don't think you'll have a problem takin' all o' this, darlin'," he says to you. "You want it fuckin' bad, don't you?"

You haul yourself up to kiss him while he finger fucks you and fucks his own fist. If you didn't know about the thing wrapped around his dick, you'd settle for tonight ending like this, his fingers knuckle deep while he spurts ropes of cum all over you. But, you want it, so your fingers snake up his leg to squeeze gently at his balls, slick with lube and taut from the ring around them.

"I always want it bad, Joel."

Legs splayed, he pushes you back, and swpies his cock through the mess between your legs. He wastes no time pressing his broad tip into you. You gasp the second he breaches you, your hands finding purchase on his golden shoulders while he teases the tip in and out, before pressing in deeper.

"How do you always feel so good," you say in breathless amazement when he's half way burried in you. "Every time."

You both groan when he pulls out and pushes back in, deeper still, until you feel the edge of the toy nudging at your entrance, and he stops.

"Magic dick," he jokes, voice low and husky. "Maybe I shoulda been a witch this year."

"Not a wizard?"

He shrugs, moving onto his forearms to kiss you without pressing further in, beyond the rim of the knot strapped to his cock. "You liked the dress."

There it is. That feeling that'd been pushing down for months, blooming in your chest again. He so often said things like this - little things that meant not much of anything to most people, but meant the world to you. It wasn't about the dress, if you thought about it. It was knowing that there was someone in the world that was happy and willing to do something, just because you liked it.

You're still and staring at him with glassy eyes when he nudges your nose with his own.

"Think you can take more?"

"Yeah. I want it, Joel, please."

He's gentle when he presses forward next. He reaches a hand between you, pulling you open as he pushes in, checking the toy strapped to him is lubed up enough to not feel dry as it spreads you wider than you'd been in some time.

Because, despite what he said, it is bigger than his balls. They were pulled tight into a ball-torpedo that day, and while the girthy stretch of it was amazing, it was nothing compared to this. This one felt like him.

You could feel his head push deeper, while the solid slickness of his shaft parted you wider, and then the stretch of the silicone knot - firm but yeilding, and as warm and wet with lube as the rest of his cock. You could barely tell where he ended and it began, and you didn't really care to work it out. Even when it stretched you to the widest point, pressing into your entrance with the rest of him to finally slip home with one more press forward of Joel's hips. It filled you - he filled you - and you groaned at the stretch, the feel of yourself clamping around down his cock, the knot, moulding your insides to this new shape of him.

You're breathing heavy when he stills inside you, murmuring in your ear words that you don't hear until he's gently squeezing your cheeks.

"Y'ain't all fucked out already, are you?" he says, looking into your dazed eyes.

You aren't. Well, you are. The ridges and ripples of the toy lodged inside you along with his cock are pushing against just about every sensitive spot you have, and you don't quite think you have words to say anything, let alone explain it all to Joel.

So, you just nod dumbly at him, whining and grabbing at him to make him move.

The first rock of his hips barely shifts him inside of you, but you can't help the deep groan that pulls out of your chest. It's like he's locked so impossibly deep inside of you that every movement of his cock nudges deeper.

He's careful not to pull the full width of the knot out of you for a while. He just moves, slowly, checking your face where your brows draw tight together and your mouth quivers with the intensity of it all.

Then, when you finally adjust enough to kiss him again, he pulls out, swallowing down your gasp when the knot stretches your sensitive entrance.

Tears spring to your eyes when he pushes back in. It doesn't hurt - not even close - but it's so fucking much that you can't help it, your entire body alive and burning with each movement he makes.

"Joel," you wail, biting into his shoulder as you quiver and quake. You're entirely out of control of your body now, but it doesn't matter. It's safe with Joel - it always has been - and you grip him as best you can while the last dregs of your self control slip away.

"I got you," he says his hands sliding under your ass, and up your back, hugging you to him. "C'mere."

You're bonelessly hauled into his lap, Joel grunting with the effort and the feel of how you clench around him with the shift os his cock rooted deep in you.

"Fuck. There we go. Y'feel that?"

You do. He must know you do by how babble and whine in his ear.

However the toy felt before, it feels even more intense like this. You're sat with your legs wrapped around him, perched on his lap while his thighs are splayed wide to stablize both of you. His cock hasn't moved from it's place deep inside you, but the shift of your body is making the knot nudge that spot inside you usually only his fingers can find.

"Fff-uck, Joel. Joel," you manage to warn, before a tear spills over your waterline. "Don'tstopdon'tfuckingstop."

The flash of concern on his face is only brief as he swipes away the tear, but then he hears you, listens, and rocks against you, pubic hair grinding against your swollen clit as the knot lcosk the two of you together.

It's overwhelming how deep he is and how full you feel. So overwheleming, you just can't help it. That's your excuse, anyway.

"I lo- " you gasp, choking back your own words when he fucks particularly deep.

"What was that?" He asks, groaning as you pulse around him.

"I - I like you," you say into his neck, wincing at your fucking stupidity for letting anything slip, for being too fucked out and cock drunk to think of a better cover than you like him.

"Yeah?" Joel says, a smile in his voice. "You like me?"

You're about to answer, when he pulls back, the knot popping from you before pressing in deep again, making you scramble to grip hold tight of him with the feel of it.

"Ye-es! S-so much."

"Really?"

He does it again, this time pulling you up too, practically making you bounce and fuck yourself onto his knot, and you suddenly don't give a shit what comes out of your mouth now, just that it makes Joel keep doing whatever it is that's happening right now. You feel so wet, you're certain you're dripping, making a mess of his cock, his balls, his thighs, his sheets.

"Yes."

The knot slips out and you pull yourself down onto it this time, groaning when you bottom out and he holds you to him, fucking up into you in shallow movements that are so deep you can feel it in your belly.

"Oh god, yeah."

Wrapping his arms around you, he grinds deep then, pulling you down onto him with each roll of his hips, the friction of his pubic hair against your clit making you howl into his chest.

It feels like panic, but you know it's not. You know it's not because it's as much in your cunt, in your belly, in your spine, than it is in your throat. Still, it bubbles up just the same, frantic desperate words coming out in a stream of nonsense before you know what's about to hit you.

"Joel, Joel, fuck, Joel - I - uhhnng -"

But Joel knows.

He keeps grinding deep, keeps pulling you down, murmuring in your ear filthy encouragement. Your hands struggle to grip him now, the sweat on his skin making him slick as he holds you up, pulls you down, fucks you deeper than you've ever been fucked before.

And then, like a dam, it breaks. You silently scream into his chest, tears spilling down your face, your pussy throbbing and clenching and gushing all over him while he never, not for a second, stops fucking you through it.

Even when you slump in his arms, whining and still coming, flooding his cock, he keeps going.

"That's it," he growls. "That's it, come on it. Come all over me."

You wish you could see him. You wish you had the energy to pull yourself off of him and look at his beuatiful cock and the mess you'd made of it, how throbbing and desperate it was for you, balls gripped tight by the ring and base held stiff by the knot. You'd fuck yourself onto it, if you could. Instead, you just pant in his arms, nodding into his chest, kissing and licking at just about any part you can while he ruts into you.

"You want this?" he grunts, grabbing your ass and spreading your cheeks, letting you somehow slip further down him with the spread.

He grunts loudly in your ear then, panting deep breaths while his chest heaves. "Fuck - fuckin' thing on my balls, not gonna last, say you want it," he begs. "Tell me you want it."

"I want you, I want you, Joel, I want you," you babble into his neck, grabbing his face, kissing him as he grunts into your mouth, cock throbbing where it impales you, balls tight as he comes as deep in you as he's ever been. You think it might just be the hardest he's ever came in you, with how still he goes, and how long he groans - the deep sound of it turning into a desperate whine while his hips cant and rock and fuck you like he's possessed.

And, when it's over, he holds you still, unconciously rocking the two of you gently, bodies so slick with sweat and come that it's a wonder you can even keep yourselves held together.

It's with a groan that he lays you both back. Then, gingerly, he pulls out and tugs the toy off his cock and balls, throwing it to the floor. With delicate kisses to your sweaty chest, he milks the last drops of cum from his cock, smearing it over your used, swollen cunt, as more of him dribbles out of you onto the sheets.

"Marking your territory are you, Were-Joel?" you say with a sleepy, contented smile up at him.

"Not much o' one for pissin' on people, so," he says with a lopside shrug and a soft smile, "Yeah." And he wipes the last drop of cum onto your clit, before kissing you and falling beside you, pulling your legs over his and cradling your spent body against his chest.

You cuddle for a while, falling into a sleepy doze as your hands wander. Then the warmth of him is away, kissing your hairline, and back not a moment later with water placed on the bedside table and a damp towel for between your thighs.

The wet patch is whisked away, dragged off the bed by Joel and replaced with a different comforter as you crawl into his bed, waiting for him beneath the fresh sheets, where he flicks the room into darkness and holds you to him once more.

When you're both settled, your heartbeats calmed and your breaths shallow and sleepy, Joel clears his throat.

"You do know Were-Joel is just man-Joel, right?" he says, his voice rumbling in his chest and straight to your ear.

"Mhm," you yawn. "I told you ages ago I like man-Joel best of all. I'd take him over any of the other Joel's any day."

"Hm," he says with a smile. "That so?"

"Yep."

"Nothin' else?"

"Nope," you mumble into his chest, sleep coming for you quicker and quicker now that his voice is right there soothing you to sleep.

"Alright then."

And you think that's it, that that is all he has to say, that you can both drift off to sleep, warm and safe in each others embrace.

"I love you too."

Your head snaps up to look at him in the dark. He pushes your hair from your face, and you laugh, suddenly giddy and silly and with too much energy and nowhere to put it. "Joel!"

You can see a sliver of his gentle smile in the dark, feel it as he presses it to your forehead, and your laughter dies down knowing that it's not a joke, that he heard you, that he knows, that he accepts your silence not as rejection but as something else, something you know to be true but can't name, even to yourself, even here so safe and warm and content in his arms that it could never be anything else.

"G'night, darlin'."

And as you fall asleep you just hope that maybe, in the morning, you'll be able to say those three little words too.

next part

taglist: @jupiter-soups @wannab-urs @bean-is-reading @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

@youandmeand5bucks-blog @bbyanarchist @vickywallace @kamcrazy123

@valkyreally @ashhlsstuff @a-literal-goblin @ariundercovers @iluvurfather

@stevie75 @toxicanonymity @thesevi0lentdelights @sp00kymulderr @joelsdagger

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #pedro pascal characters #coveted fics #big bawl jawl #never forget the balls #fic: dress up joel

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alotofpockets · 11 months ago

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Sticks & stones | Mary Earps x Man United!Reader

Where Mary says something hurtful

Woso masterlist | Words: 1k

-----

You signed for Manchester United in the January transfer window, the team wanted to up their defence the rest of the season, and you had been their best option to do so.

The team had welcomed you with open arms, but not everything went as smoothly as you had hoped. You didn’t let it bother you much though, knowing that you just had to prove yourself to the team for them to accept you into it fully.

Your playing style was something new to the team. While you were a very sweet, kind, and caring person off the pitch, your on pitch personality was a stark difference. You were very confident on the pitch, which was often perceived as arrogance. That was the part that bothered Mary the most.

She was fine with a new defender coming in to help get their defence better, making her job as a goalkeeper easier. But the arrogance you brought to their game was something she could not wrap her head around.

After a couple of matches, you had won over the fans and most of the players as well. However, Mary was not one of them, though at points you thought you were even managing to make a little progress with the goalie.

When the semi-final match against Manchester City came around, you were one of the key players, and often got yourself a starting position, having become a crucial part of the defence.

City had managed to put one in the back of the net, and so had United a few minutes later. The teams were both well matched to each other, which of course was to be expected since the both of you made it this far into the competition.

Going into the 75th minute the score was still level, and both teams were feeling the pressure. Chloe Kelly was making a run towards your goal after intercepting a ball in midfield. You and Mary were the only ones between her and the goals, so you knew you had to do everything to stop her.

You went in a little too aggressively, and to your frustration completely missed the ball and slid fully into Chloe’s ankle. As she topples over you and the referee comes running your way, you know you messed up. The referee reaches into her pocket and pulls out a red.

In defeat you stand up and watch the referee point the card in your direction. Katie and Millie ran up to tell the referee down to a yellow, but you knew it was to no use. The first red in your career, never even haven’t gotten red after a double yellow.

As you were about to walk off, you heard the words from Mary coming from behind you. “Great, just what we needed, another arrogant show-off that might cost us the game.” Her words were more to herself than to anyone in particular, but they were loud enough for you to hear.

The teammates you passed consoled you as you walked off the pitch, but their words wouldn’t erase the ones that were spoken by the English goalkeeper. The booing from the City fans was also not a great feeling.

In the locker room you go over the moment in your head again. Getting red alone would have gotten you down, but with Mary’s words on replay, you were sitting there with tears in your eyes.

When your teammates started trickling in you were already showered and back in your travel outfit. Some of them came towards you offering a quick hand in support. You had been able to keep up with the score of the match on your phone, and luckily your teammates managed to kick another one in the back of the net and secure Manchester United a spot in the final. A final match you would have to sit out.

Mary, who’s cubby was next to yours, offered a hand on your shoulder, but you shook it off. “Eh okay, what did I do?” Mary questions jokingly, not realising that you had let your other teammates do what she just did. You look her right in the eyes and say, “Sticks and stones, right?”

The goalkeeper thinks hard of what you meant, but you thought you’d help her remember. “Arrogant show-off. Words hurt, you know? I admit that I went in too aggressively, but I wasn’t trying to show off, I was trying to prevent her being able to get one on one with you.” You kept your voice low, not wanting to interrupt the rest of the team from celebrating.

“I am sorry for saying that. I really didn’t mean it. In the moment I was very frustrated and therefore wasn’t thinking clearly.” You sighed, “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t still think of me that way.”

Mary is quick to shake her head, “I really don’t. You are an incredible player and you have given so much to this team. I don’t think we would have been here today if it wasn’t for what you brought to our game.”

You stare at her dumbfounded for a moment, “You do?” You thought you had a long way to go to convince the goalkeeper of your worth, but she thought of your playing like this? “Yeah, of course. I’m sorry if I didn’t make it seem that way, and again very sorry for what I said on the pitch.”

From that moment on you felt fully part of the team, without having to prove yourself, playing with them became even more enjoyable. While you sadly weren’t able to play in the final yourself, the team did manage to win the title, and knowing that you had been a part in that, was all that mattered now.

-----

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider liking, commenting, and reblogging!💗

#mary earps #mary earps x reader #mary earps imagine #manchester united #manchester united women #man united wfc #man united women #engwnt #engwnt x reader #lionesses #lionesses x reader #woso #woso x reader

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kuroppiii · 10 months ago

Text

looking out for you ᵕ̈ husband!timeskip!ushijima wakatoshi x gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : " tired " means nothing ⋮⋮ when ushijima virtually worships the ⋮⋮ very ground you walk on

📋 content ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮 ♡ # 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘣𝘣𝘭𝘦 🥛 ♡ # ~830 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴

🧸 directory ‹ ✩ like what you read ? check out more of my blog ! •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii─ “ not on shuffle bc it ’ s not relevant at all but i still love the song — i guess i should stoppp lookin out for youuu like i always doooo :) ”

the padding of your shoes reverberate throughout the hallway leading to your apartment door. your jacket ruffles as each trudge of your legs feels like an eternity. work today was hell.

by the time you’re stood in front of the apartment door, you let out a heavy sigh and drag a hand across your face before you go to dig for your keys in your jacket pocket.

the jingling sound they emit as you go to unlock the door rings in your ears unpleasantly. you physically cringe a little at the invasive sensation as it crashes through your brain that’s already surging with an annoying headache.

you need to lay the fuck down. now.

after you crack open the door and slip your way into the apartment—too lazy to even open the door all the way—you notice the light at the entrance that also doubles as your apartment’s small kitchen’s light was already on. the rest of the lights are off, though.

in the dim lighting, first you see a familiar pair of sneakers already neatly placed in their spot on the shoe rack.

second, however, you also notice a duffel uncharacteristically left haphazardly on the hardwood floor.

third, you glance up and see ushijima’s back. his arm reaches up as he rubs the back of his neck tiredly. the lighting highlights how his back muscles flex as he tries to rub away the soreness. you can see in the way his tall frame sinks down a bit and how his head hangs low that today’s practice must’ve taken something out of him.

he turns around at the sound of your arrival. when he looks up at you, for a moment you both look at each other, and in your eyes you exchange the same expression in an unspoken language: exhaustion.

“welcome home, darling,” his worn-out voice mumbles out just barely enough to reach your ears.

“hey toshi… you just got back, too?”

“mhm.”

and he starts making his way over to you. once he’s in front of you, he casts a shadow over you from his sheer height blocking out the kitchen light. most would find the image threatening—scary, even. it was probably the sight many volleyball players saw as your husband went to block their points up at the net during countless games.

but even in the dark, you can find his eyes. and whenever they’re gazing at you, they’re nothing but soft.

the light quickly reappears as he kneels down. at your feet, he starts to help you out of your shoes. you briefly feel the cold metal of his wedding band nudge against the skin of your ankle as he does so and your hand finds its way to gently card through the hair on the top of his head, a mix between a sigh of relief and a scoff in disbelief escaping your lips.

he stands back up and your hand is forced to retreat to sliding down to cup the side of his face as he returns to his full height. he reaches around you to help take your work bag, and you brush your thumb over his cheekbone,

“aren’t you tired too?”

his actions pause for a moment—just as he’s about to help you shrug off your heavy coat—as he replies back with a curt,

“yes.”

that wasn’t going to stop him, though—your toshi. you knew this. he never failed to remind you of his love for you: a love that even trounced his love for volleyball.

he reminded you through his constant doting over you.

or late night confessions admitted in a hush by your ear.

“you’re the best thing that’s happened to my life, i love you.”

or like right now. always the gentleman, he resumes gathering your jacket in his arm. but before he can step away from you to hang up your stuff, both your hands bring his face closer to ensnare his lips with yours.

as you kiss—one mixed with a sickening sweetness and a very late-night laziness—you feel the pressure of his big hand on the small of your back. he’s still holding your bag, and it slightly sways and bumps the back of your legs, making you smile into your kiss.

when you pull away, your husband looks adorably dazed as he was caught off by your sudden gesture. he looked the same way on your wedding day after you sealed your vows with a kiss, as well. some things never change.

you’ll never get tired of this. you’ll never get tired of how ushijima always looks out for you. you’ll never get tired of rewarding him with all the love you can muster to throw right back at him.

you feel compelled to give him another quick peck, and for a short second after you do, you admire how his eyes flutter and a tiny smile tugs at his lips.

“takeout tonight?” you suggest with a fond smile.

“takeout tonight,” he dumbly nods, subtly hugging you closer to him.

#🌼 𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗸𝘆𝘂𝘂 #🌼 𝘂𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗷𝗶𝗺𝗮 𝘄𝗮𝗸𝗮𝘁𝗼𝘀𝗵𝗶 #heart eyes #husbandcore toshi </3 #haikyuu #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #haikyuu ushijima #hq ushijima #ushijima fluff #ushijima x you #ushijima x y/n #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader

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black-cat-luck · 5 months ago

Note

Can u pls do Tim and Bruce father son activities ( i love ur writing!!)

YES IVE BEEN WAITING FOR MY TIMMY BOY

༺♡♱⋆🦇⋆♱♡༻

• Tim and Bruce have a very hard relationship. It took a very long time for them to have anything father/son related, and when they did reach that point, it was uncomfortable and awkward for both of them at first. They try, once they get to that point of care for one another, they do try. Tim knows Bruce is trying, and it means a lot to him, so he’s happy to reciprocate, to have this parental relationship in his life.

• Their first father/son moment is after Tim breaks his skateboard. He’s not necessarily upset, it’s just a sight inconvenience, but he’s tired, he’s been really stressed, and this pushes him past a breaking point. Bruce finds him sitting next to the broken board, and wordlessly manages to get Tim to get in the car and go with him. Tim doesn’t ask how Bruce knows what board shop he frequents, or the exact way to get there without directions, but Bruce even goes inside with him, asking questions here and there as they browse, and complimenting everything Tim picks and buys. Tim has credit cards, he has his parent’s money, but Bruce buys it all without blinking before the boy can even try and dig his wallet out of his pocket. It becomes a thing for them, Bruce always finds time to take Tim to the board shop when he wants to go, and always watches him with that same warm smile, just enjoying seeing Tim happy over something a boy his age should enjoy.

• Tim really likes baseball. He doesn’t let anyone know, not since Jack Drake never picked a glove back up or bothered to show up to a T-Ball game after Tim hit double digits. It’s fine, Tim bought himself gear and nets so he could play on his own in his backyard. He stopped playing on a team, and just tossed a ball to himself. He hasn’t had an itch for the sport in so long that when it comes back he doesn’t think twice to dust off a glove and practice his pitch. When Bruce finds him, it honestly makes his chest hurt to see all of the things the boy owns, to see how long he’s spent alone. There’s an extra glove, Tim always had a few of everything. Bruce is a bit rusty, but he’s adamant to make sure Tim never feels alone again, to know he has a home and a father that will play catch with him. Tim cries himself to sleep that night, and Bruce promises he won’t ever be alone again.

• Tim’s one true love is always photography. When he feels secure enough with his relationship with Bruce to show him, Bruce is a bit horrified to know such a small boy was hiding on rooftops just to sneak pictures of him, but it’s a bittersweet feeling to know that little boy was so starstruck, that he adored Batman so much, and if Bruce would’ve known about him before, maybe he could’ve met Jason, maybe Tim could’ve had a father sooner. Bruce takes him to museum’s that have traveling photography exhibits, some with local artists getting displayed. Tim admits a few are his he submit under a pen name, and Bruce makes sure those photos are displayed permanently. He encourages Tim to never give up or let anything ruin his love for his art. Bruce spends early mornings and beautiful middays with Tim, watching him in his own element, more so than Robin, or an act put on for the elites, Tim Drake is a photographer.

• Tim likes to crochet. It started as a small hobby he learned from hours of watching his mother do it, he was always nervous to try himself, but when the nights got lonely he did it as a way to feel close to his parents. He fell in love with it and Drake manor is covered in all kinds of colorful creations of his. He has his own crocheted Batman sweater that he made before merch of the vigilante ever existed, and he still wears it happily. Bruce thinks it’s adorable, and Tim’s first ever gift to him, is a matching one. Bruce adores it, and wears it all the time around the house, and Tim continues making him things. Sweaters he can wear in public (which he does happily), a plush Robin bird that sits above the batcomputer, a tiny Alfred to keep him company when he’s having a hard day. He even makes Alfred small versions of Bruce, and all his kids. He gets a hug, and sees both of them cry when they’re given them. That Christmas everyone is given matching sweaters, and Bruce happily sits with Tim as he crochets, encourages him to pick up his needles when he’s getting antsy during a debrief, or watches him tiredly twist the yarn around his fingers as he waits for Bruce to fill out the mission report before they’re allowed to go to bed. Tim tries to get Bruce to crochet with him, but he just can’t seem to figure it out, so it becomes a bonding time for them to just sit together, and Bruce always compliments everything he makes, just happy to be with him.

• Tim likes to make cakes. He thinks they’re fun, and there never needs to be a reason to enjoy something delicious, so when they’re both benched for a week after a rough mission, Tim drags Bruce down to the kitchen, and makes him help make one. There’s no occasion, no reason. Tim just wants cake, and he wants the enjoyment of making one. Bruce is just happy to spend time with him, and helps with every step. Tim makes the frosting himself, and shows Bruce all the different shades of colors they can make by adding certain amounts of food coloring, so they can have four different shades of pinks and blues for the cake. He’s almost too good at it, like he is with everything, and Bruce feels bad he’s making it look bad, his cursive is sloppy in frosting, and no matter how he holds the spatula, the border is still lumpy, but Tim thinks it’s perfect, and refuses to let Bruce stop helping. It’s a bit messy, leaning a bit to one side, but Tim loves it. He takes pictures, and lets Bruce cut the first slice, smiling wide as they share the piece, commenting on how good it tastes, and how perfect it is because they made it together.

• When Tim has to move on from Robin and become his own person, it undeniably puts a strain on their relationship. They try not to let it, but Tim needs time, and Bruce allows him it. Tim can’t find enjoyment in making cake, or playing baseball by himself anymore, a dreaded feeling that he finally knew how it felt to really be loved, and lost it. He’s still a kid, he’s on his own again, he’s too prideful to be the one to make the first move. A box is left on his doorstep, his Robin training says not to trust it, but the way his name is written, in cursive that it much better on paper than a cake, it leads him to opening it. He finds a small plush bat inside. It’s lopsided, messy crochet barely holding together. It’s from the same tutorial that taught him how to make the plush Robin he put in the cave for Bruce. Batman needs a Robin, he always reminded him. Bruce needs his son, he was reminded. And Tim knew no matter what, he needed him too. Tim never expected to find a family among the manor and the people he now loved that were inside. He never imagined he’d get to have this relationship, because no matter what, Bruce showed him what it felt like to be loved by a father. Bruce didn’t just love him as his son, Bruce loved him as Tim Drake.

༺♡♱⋆🦇⋆♱♡༻

Tim my beloved I want to give him the entire world

Thank you for requesting I hope you liked it!! Thank you for loving my work, I hope you enjoy all my future writings just as much. ᡣ𐭩

#dc batman #batfam #batman #batman and robin #good dad bruce wayne #bruce wayne #dc headcanon #red robin #red robin headcanon #tim drake #bruce and tim #dc robin #robin tim drake #blackcatluck request

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girlgenius1111 · 2 years ago

Text

pop back up

barca femeni x reader

r gets hurt during a game, and her friends make sure she’s okay :)

You were something of a set piece machine. The girls joked that you had a magic head, no matter how much you told them that that compliment sounded like something very different. You had an incomparable ability to get your head under the ball, leaping high into the air above girls taller than you. If you got your head on the ball, the odds were that it was hitting the back of the net.

So, while you were often a target for corners from your team, other teams had started to catch on, and marked you pretty heavily. It was early in the second half when you found yourselves lining up in front of the opposing goal. You were sandwiched in between two opposing players, but you were confident you could get free as Pina made eye contact with you, raising her arm before moving forward.

As the ball sailed toward you, you doubled back around the defenders, launching yourself into the air. Your head made contact with the ball at the same time as one of the defenders made contact with your whole body, sending you hurtling back down toward the ground. You threw your arm out, quite stupidly, to catch your weight, which promptly crumpled.

You heard the cheer of the crowd as the ball went in, but all you could think about was the intense pain coming from your elbow as you rolled onto your opposite side, clutching your arm tightly. It had made a horrifying sound, which most of the girls around you had heard, and no one moved to celebrate the goal, all looking at you in horror. Ingrid was the first to your side, resting a hand on your head.

"Y/n?" She asked quietly, as you'd yet to make a sound.

"Ow," you mumbled, voice thick with tears. You never cried. Not when you got hurt, not when you got knocked down so hard everyone was sure you were hurt; you always popped back up, shaking it off in the way only someone so young could.

"Medics!" Ingrid shouted, waving at the sidelines. If you were crying, she didn't want to think about how bad this was. "Okay, don't move, they're coming," she said, and you nodded pitifully into the grass, body twitching in pain. You sensed another body kneel down by your head, and Lucy's voice was filling the silence on the field.

"How bad is it, buddy?" she asked, desperate for more information, unable to wait for the medics, who were now only a few steps away. You only groaned in response, and Lucy's face fell. She looked up at Keira, panicked, before her and Ingrid were pushed aside as the medics arrived. One of them was kneeling by your head, speaking into your ear.

As Lucy and Ingrid stepped back, flanked on either side by the rest of your teammates, they were relieved to see that you were responding the the medics. Confident that you were in good hands, Lucy turned to the girl that had knocked you down, hands clenched into fists. Before she could even take a step, an arm wrapped around her abdomen, and someone else blocked her path.

"Let me go," she said, tone threatening. Lucy was rarely this serious, and never spoke this severely, but Patri stayed planted in front of her, not moving. Mariona's arm only tightened around Lucy's waist, and Lucy sighed impatiently.

"No, we don't need you getting a card," Patri told her, meeting Lucy's harsh glare with one of her own. Lucy had to admit, Patri was picking up a mean stare quite well from Alexia.

Lucy opened her mouth to argue more, when she heard a cry of pain from behind her. She whipped around, and saw you on your back now, still cradling your arm to your chest, in obvious distress. Shrugging out from in between her teammates, she walked over to you, crouching down on the side by your head, where there was room. You looked up at her, eyes big and wet, and all thoughts of revenge left Lucy's head.

"You're okay, buddy, I promise," she said. You were trying to raise your head to look at your arm, which she didn't think was a very good idea. Your elbow was clearly dislocated, sitting at an odd angle. She knew the sight of it would only panic you; the medics were getting an air wrap ready to place around it, and it would be out of sight soon. Wanting to prepare you for the movement, Lucy tapped your cheek lightly, drawing your attention back to her. "They're gonna get you wrapped up, and then we'll get you off the field, okay?"

"No, I wanna finish the game," you said weakly. If you hadn't looked so serious, Lucy would have laughed. Here you were, arm practically hanging off your body, and you wanted to finish playing.

"No can do, kid. We gotta get you fixed up," she said, and you pouted, clearly not happy with that answer. One of the medics spoke then, explaining that he would need to touch your arm in order to get is wrapped.

"Can't I just walk off without that?" you asked, looking terrified, and slightly nauseous at the idea of someone touching your arm.

The medic shook his head regretfully. "No, we don't want to risk you moving it, we need to keep it immobile until we know what's going on in there."

You sighed, blinking a few tears away, before your eyes flickered to Lucy, as if hoping she would overrule the medical professionals.

"It'll be over fast, y/n, I promise," she said instead. You nodded shakily, and Lucy smiled down at you. Carefully releasing your injured arm, you moved your good arm away, with a clear flinch of pain. Lucy placed both hands on your head, holding it in place on the ground, so you wouldn't look, knowing it would probably hurt worse if you saw what they were doing.

The medics moved closer, and you were wishing someone was holding your hand, but both of Lucy's were occupied. As if reading your mind, Keira's face appeared next to Lucy's, and you felt her take your good hand into both of hers. You smiled gratefully at her, before giving the medics the go ahead.

They worked fast, and Lucy and Keira flinched every time you did, at every whimper and cry that left your lips as they manipulated the airwrap around your arm. By the time they were done, you were crying again, but silently.

"You did it," Lucy said proudly, and you at least had the energy to roll your eyes at her. "Let's get you up, okay?"

"Unless you want a stretcher?" one of the medics asked, and you gave him a withering glare.

"I wouldn't want a stretcher if I had lost a leg," you snapped, and everyone hid smiles at the sudden return of your personality. Keira and Lucy got you up off the ground. Everyone should have felt better, seeing you on your feet, but no one on the team missed the way your teeth was gritted in pain, and the way the color drained from your face when you moved your arm slightly, taking a step.

"We'll be back as soon as the game is over," Keira told you and you didn't seem to hear her as you focused on walking unsteadily off the pitch, supported on each side by one of the medics.

Every step you took sent shock waves of pain up your arm. You tried moving your fingers as you got closer to the tunnel, just to make sure they still worked, but even a slight twitch had you groaning in pain.

"No, keep everything still," they told you, leading you down the hall. You didn't notice Mapi slip away from the bench, having come off at the half, and following you, nor did you notice them closing the door before she could enter, telling her they needed scans, and no one else could be in the room yet. Everyone was moving fast around you, paying attention to your arm, rather than you, and you felt yourself quickly getting overwhelmed.

-----

The minute that Ingrid had motioned for the medics, Alexia was moving from her spot in the bleachers, expertly navigating the stadium, quickly going to find you. She knew that if you needed medics, it was bad. She'd seen you break a nose, and try to shrug off the medics, so whatever this was, was worse.

She walked down the hall, spotting Mapi pacing next to a door. Mapi, who was looking at the door you were behind with distinct irritation. As she got closer, Mapi turned to look at her, and Alexia raised her eyebrows in question.

"They won't let me in. Something about scans, and needing to get a grasp of the injury before anyone could see her. She'd just a kid, she shouldn't be alone," Mapi ranted, and Alexia was quick to match her level of irritation. You hated doctors, you hated being hurt, and you were likely surrounded by people more focused on your injury than you. Both girls stood quietly, trying to decide how to get into the room, when the door opened in front of them.

"Oh good, you're still here," one of the medics said. "Can you come calm her down, she's kind of freaking out and we need to get the scan done, but she won't let us touch her arm, or give her any medication," he stated, looking annoyed.

Alexia and Mapi were, somewhat unnecessarily, shoving past him before he even finished talking, and entering the room. You were reclined on the exam table, tears streaming down your face, arm once again cradled to your chest, as about 5 medics talked at you at the same time. One of them was holding a needle that he clearly wanted to put in your arm. Mapi was ready to drag everyone out of the room by their shirts, and maybe stab the one guy with his own needle, but Alexia went for a more diplomatic solution.

"Everyone get out," she shouted, and the commotion in the room stopped, every person looking at her in shock. "I said get out, you can come back in when she's calmed down." Alexia's face was filled with fury at how bad of a job they were doing taking care of you, and everyone must have figured that out, as they quickly moved towards the door, stepping into the hall. When it was just the three of you, Alexia stepped closer to your right side, while Mapi went to the sink, wetting a towel.

"I'm sorry," you cried. You were just so overwhelmed, in so much pain, and so unsure of what was going on, you didn't want to let anyone touch your arm, until someone told you exactly what they were going to do.

"No, no," Alexia said soothingly, moving closer, "they are not taking very good care of you, you are obviously overwhelmed. Let's just calm down first, yeah?" Gone was the voice of Captain Alexia that had shouted at all of the medics in the room, replaced by Alexia who was speaking so softly, so gently, completely concerned with getting you to stop crying.

Mapi moved to your left side, the side of your injured arm, with a damp towel, and you whimpered, trying to shift away from her.

"Cariño, I'm just gonna wipe the grass off your face, I won't touch your arm, I promise," Mapi said calmly, and you relaxed slightly, nodding once. Carefully she wiped the grass stains, and the tear tracks, off your face, not minding that more were replacing the one's she wiped away. Your eyes fluttered shut at her actions, finally feeling like someone was taking care of you. When she was done, she tossed the small towel into the laundry, before focusing back on you.

You were still crying softly, still clutching your arm to your chest, and they weren't really sure how to get you to relax. You seemed to be in a lot of pain, so Alexia decided step one was getting some meds into you.

"Bebita, you look like you're hurting. Can we get you some meds?" You shrugged, not really sure that you wanted meds, or that you didn't.

"Why don't you want them?" Mapi asked, and you looked over at her.

"It'll make me all loopy, and I won't know what they're doing, and they won't even tell me what's wrong," you said, voice choked. Both girls looked at you, slightly confused.

"They haven't told you what they think is wrong?" Alexia questioned, and you shook your head. She sighed. "We'll make sure they tell you when they come back in, and we won't leave you alone again, alright?" she asked, but you still seemed unsure.

"I promise, we won't let them touch you again until you're ready," Mapi vowed. "Let's just get you some medicine, and then go from there, okay?" At this, you finally agreed, although somewhat hesitantly. Alexia left to get the medics, but it took significantly longer than you expected, leading you to believe she was perhaps yelling at them out there.

Meanwhile, Mapi pulled your boots and shin guards off, slowly as not to jostle you, pretending she wasn't trying to listen in to the conversation being had in the hallway. If she wasn't so reluctant to leave you, she would be out there too, yelling much less professionally than Alexia likely was. She was about to make a joke about it, when she glanced up and saw you staring at the ceiling, biting your lip hard.

"Hey, what is it pequeña?" She asked, walking back to stand next to you.

"It really hurts, Mapi," you whimpered, and Mapi had to swallow back the lump in her throat at the pain in your voice.

"I know, cariño, we're gonna get you something to feel better soon," she told you, as Alexia reentered the room with only two medics, who looked like they had, indeed, just been yelled at. Alexia looked expectantly at them, taking a place by your side, standing rather protectively over you.

"Alright, y/n, we're gonna give you some painkillers, and get some scans done," the one on the right said, more gently than he'd been speaking to you before. You nodded meekly, looking up at Alexia who gave you an encouraging smile.

"If we could just have you both step out for... never mind," he said, seeming to change his mind when Mapi and Alexia's head both snapped to glare at him.

You focused on your friends for the next few minutes, as the shot of painkillers was administered. It dulled the pain slightly, but not all the way. You mentioned this quietly to your friends, who turned expectantly to the medics. They, in turn, told you that they couldn't give you any more. You nodded, while Mapi and Alexia continued to glare. The medics wouldn't allow the older girls to come with you for the x-ray, though, much to their dismay.

They waited in the room, while you let the medics manipulate your arm every which way to get the correct scan, trying to hold back your gasps of pain. You needed to be brave, needed to get this done so you could go back to your friends.

By the time they walked you back to the room you were in before, your face was once again red from crying, and your lip was bleeding from where you'd bitten it, hard, during the scan. You ignored the concerned looks that Mapi and Alexia shot you as you carefully sat back on the table.

You settled back, moving your arm to rest next to you, finally letting it go from your chest. Every movement felt like your elbow was being torn off your body, and as the medics left again, you looked helplessly up at your friends. Alexia brushed some loose hair out of your face, before speaking.

"What can we do, cariño?" she asked. You just shrugged your good shoulder, leaning almost imperceptibly towards your captain. She got the message, though, gently pulling your head to press against her stomach, as she carded her fingers through your hair. You relaxed at her touch, and Mapi busied herself with resting a hand on your lower leg, the only part of you she could reach from where she was standing.

You stayed like that, limply resting again the blonde woman, until the medics returned. You looked at them as they walked in, not liking what you saw. They looked apologetic, and you were suddenly sure they didn't have good news.

"So, it's definitely dislocated," the taller one started, "but we don't think we can get it back in. Sometimes, when the joint is comes out of the socket in the right way, you can only get it back in surgically, and it's looking like that is the case here," you groaned, throwing your head back against the table in frustration.

"What's the recovery like?" Alexia asked for you, and the medics exchanged looks.

"It really depends on what they find when they get in there, but it's not a leg injury, so once it doesn't need to be perfect before she gets back on the pitch."

"When do I have to go?" you asked, dreading the answer.

"We've got an ambulance waiting outside," the shorter one said and you looked up at your friends in a panic.

"It's alright, we'll come with you, and Lucy and Keira will meet us there, alright?" Mapi said, trying to calm you down.

"Can't we wait until the end of the game?" you pleaded, looking between the blonde and the brunette. One of the medics spoke instead.

"We really can't, it's best we get you to the hospital and into surgery as soon as possible."

"There's still like 20 minutes left of the game, plus extra time. I promise, the two of them will meet us at the hospital as soon as possible, okay?" Alexia said, resting her hand on your forehead.

Everyone started moving, Mapi slipping slides onto your feet that you hadn't noticed her grab, and Alexia helping you sit up.

"Can one of you get my phone? I should call Leah," you said quietly. Mapi nodded, rushing to the locker room and grabbing it for you. Her and Alexia both knew how close you and Leah were; you didn't have a good relationship, any relationship really, with your parents, and you'd spent your last year in England living with Leah instead of them. Alexia had been slyly texting Leah updates, but knew that talking to her would calm you down.

You made your way, slowly, to the ambulance, climbing into the back and sitting on the bed begrudgingly. This felt a little ridiculous, you had a dislocated elbow, not a major head injury. Alexia sat in the back with you, as did one of the paramedics. Mapi joined you just before the other paramedic closed the doors, handing you your phone.

You opened it quickly, struggling slightly to hold it with your one shaking hand, as the vehicle started to move. You hit Leah's contact, knowing she would not be thrilled to hear that you needed surgery, especially whilst she was in another country, and couldn't come help take care of you.

You waited as it rang, and she answered the phone rather quickly, voice panicked on the other end.

"Y/n! How are you, buddy? Tell me you don't need surgery," Leah said, and you couldn't help the fit of laughter you broke into. You leaned back, getting more comfortable, as you began to tell Leah what was going on. Mapi and Alexia took in the way you relaxed at the sound of Leah's voice, more calm than they'd seen you since you'd gone down, and both wondering if they could keep Leah on the phone until you went back for surgery.

Alexia looked down as her phone rang in her lap, and Mapi did the same, her own phone buzzing. Lucy was calling Alexia and Keira was calling Mapi, almost simultaneously. They'd clearly finished the game, and discovered that you were gone. They both sighed, Alexia texting both girls instead of answering the calls, not wanting to disrupt your call with Leah.

They made eye contact, aware that they were about to be fielding phone calls from just about all of your England teammates, who'd somehow ended up with Alexia's number, [she blamed Lucy]. They found that they didn't care, not if it meant that you were well taken care of. As the ambulance rumbled towards the hospital, and you spoke quietly to Leah, Mapi and Alexia settled in for a long night by your side.

------

god i could not figure out how to end that. definitely will be a part 2 for this one :) [part 3...? did the other one count as part 2?? i think so...]

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas #lucy bronze #keira walsh #leah williamson

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ladyazurith · 1 year ago

Text

Part 2 of Lorcana/Twist

Other parts:

Part 1

Part 3

So there was some interest in my last Lorcana/Twisted Wonderland post, so I thought I'd add some of the other cards I find amusing in relation to Twist.

First up is Jafar:

One of the best combos you can get off is to have Jafar sing a Whole New World. It nets you 7 of the 20 Lore you need to win in one action. I've had a story on the back burner for a while, where Vil puts on a production of essentially their twisted version of Aladdin, that would have ended up with Jamil being the one to sing this song. (Cater would play the Genie, because he's the only one who could possibly come close given his clones)

Next up is Heartslabyul with the Queen of Hearts and the Card Soldiers, but as a major Cater fan I am sad the Card Soldier has *4 Hearts*

Also the idea of Chen’ya showing up just to make Riddle mad amuses me.

More Evil Queen/Vil

I will admit the fact that Vil dislikes "Wishing on Stars" and divination etc has always amused me given he is a stand in for the Evil Queen who was definitely into Astrology. (Also Cater’s favorite subject)

I liked this one for Idia, ,I can see him going on about someone's weakness in gaming terms.

Here's a good one for Crewel vibes.

And I can't forget Azul and the Twins

I have some more but I can only do 10 images per post. I hope you enjoy :)

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brotherwtf · 4 months ago

Note

Mer AU Headcanons 1/2

As I mentioned in our chat, your mer headcanons inspired me and led me to come up with some ideas of my own. I hope you like them. Feel free to build on them or discard them, I’m not planning to write a fic from this.

I headcanon that Gale is like a siren - he lures pirates and ships he finds threatening to perilous waters and causes shipwrecks. This is because pirates often try to poach on his community and he wants to protect his people and their treasures and homes.

Appearance wise, Gale has shoulder-length hair, his tail is blue, and he loves wearing jewelry. He usually wears a necklace, bracelets and a waist chain. All gold and expensive (he collected them from shipwrecks). Sirens in this AU can shift into human form at will.

One day, one of his friends gets caught in the net of a poacher pirate ship and Gale tries to rescue them while they're still in the water. He manages to cut his friend out of the net, but he gets injured and caught instead.

The pirates pull him on deck and taunt, laugh and pick on him. They take his jewelry too. It seems like things might get out of hand but pirate Bucky steps in and convinces the others to leave Gale alone. He even gets him some treatment for his wound.

But Gale just bides his time. Once it's dark enough and he’s alone, tied up, he shifts into human form and uses the extra mobility his legs provide to get out of his binds.

Meanwhile, Bucky gambles with the other pirates and wins Gale's jewelry on cards. He decides he wants to see what he can from Gale for the gold, intends to get Gale's consent to touch his tail.

Except, when he gets there, all he finds is a naked man already halfway out of the rope binding. He and Gale have a stare off, then Gale proceeds with his escape plan and gets out of the ropes. He asks Bucky why he's not calling the others. Bucky shrugs, says something about curiosity and a craving for adventure instead of gold. Then tells Gale he has his jewelry. Gale tells him to keep it, then escapes back into the water.

The other pirates notice and start to pursue him. Bucky is immediately in trouble because they suspect he let Gale go. But it doesn't matter anyway, because Gale's leading them to their end.

(cont. in part 2)

points at this IM SCREAMING AVONNE I LOVE ALL OF THESE SO MUCH

also guys be prepared for a shit ton of mermaid/pirate au coming your way in the next couple of days everyone clap

I totally totally love every single one of these hcs and I'm just gonna add some more bcs this is already so so perfect

Gale who perches on the outskirts of a jagged rock cove, beckons pirates in with a slender finger and iridescent tail, lures them until they're just reaching out for him and then he jumps in the water, but by then it's too late for the pirates to turn around and they're doomed to crash, and Gale swims into the aftermath to steal all of their jewelry and precious gems

Bucky being absolutely floored by how beautiful Gale is when they capture him, pale skin draped in gold jewels with the most beautiful tail he's ever seen, damn consider that boy smitten, and when he wins back all of Gale's jewelry and finds him in naked human form in the cellar he hates to admit that all he can think about is what Gale's salty skin must taste like

Gale lashes out at him, lunges for him but John manages to pin him to the ground, straddling his naked form and feeling his cheeks warm at the compromising position, but Gale's all angry and teeth and tries to wrangle out of John's hold but John's still able to hold him, "I'm trying to help you!" he shouts and it makes Gale pause, stop struggling as he notices John's hands full of his jewels

"why do you want to help me? you let them capture me," Gale hisses

"because I don't give a fuck about the jewels or the riches, I've never seen a mermaid in my life, and I guess that's why I wanted to do this in the first place. For the adventure, to see things I've never seen before... not for the money, not at all," John confesses and Gale can feel his heart start to warm

and so he lets John distract the crew while Gale escapes, diving off the edge of the boat and into the dangerous cove where they found him, can't help but turn back and think about John, think about what he's done for him, and realizes how much trouble John must be in

MOODBOARD

part two coming tomorrow!!!

#mota #clegan #buck x bucky #gale cleven #john egan #asks #mermaid Gale au

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taldigi · 6 months ago

Note

Ur post about yui going to face adachi alone also adds a lot to yosuke being there when she comes back out, cause like it’s now as much as the canon explanation as it is fear that he might try something (she might be his reliable partner but she’s also still a girl going to face a creep)

I can just as easily see adachi forgoing the gun scare and just approaching her instead

It's good old fashioned misogyny. He thinks girls are weaker, stupider (yet somehow more cunning), lazier, and inherently more evil then even the most brick headed of guys. Girls are for cooking dinners and not much else. He thought that he deserved a relationship of any kind with Yamano and became personally infuriated when she had the affair.

"If only they did what I wanted, I wouldn't have to have killed them." and- he expects his worldview (at least in this particular scenario) is something that "everyone understands, at least on a subconscious level". Heck, even Kanji admits to brushing off info about Adachi calling out to high school girls because "thats how cops are, y'know?"

It's a card he plays on Yu constantly. A large amount of his social link is him expressing this on some level and asking you to agree. If the "right answers" are ones that net you social points, then you are playing (or possibly even letting Yu be groomed) into being a person just like him.

even some of the non-social pointed options are... very very not Yu-like at all. Yu is blunt. But he's not cruel.

I just wish the game didn't punish you (locking you out of achievements and persona) for rejecting these ideas or not desiring to finish it (like the game locks at 8 if you don't go in after him alone or taking the accomplice route- as well as making Yu have flashbacks of good moments as a justification for chasing him down) You can't even talk to your friends about it, or ask them to back you up, or at least have a scene that lets you rank up the link without betraying your friends trust in you/yu.

But, I guess that's the point.

IMO IT should be furious- Yosuke should be furious-- if you want a reversed magician event, then here it is (and even tho the game does do an event where he confronts you, he forgives you way too easily). But the game doesn't dole out consequences for this & Golden tries really hard to sell Yu and Adachi as a fated set of opposites (when, cough, Yosuke is a better opposite to Adachi than Yu, I think.) as if they aren't supposed to be a trio with Namatame or at least acting as an antithesis to the IT as a whole. It's a dynamic that is done so much better with Ren and Akechi it's almost comical.

So Yui approaching him alone is thrice as stupid and thrice as dangerous. Even in the scenario where Yui is a stronger person than Yu- in which she COULD single-handedly whoop his ass multiple times over- Adachi can never and would never consider her a threat or something remotely meaningful on the same level as he would Yu.

.. and I'm sure that Yui being Dojima's niece is the only thing keeping him from doing the same things he did to those other girls to her. And who knows, hopped up on enough power- he could do it to Nanako too. That's usually how things like that go.

in NG+: Girl Edition, she does not follow after him. Adachi gives her really bad vibes because he treats her differently too. He treats her like she's kinda stupid, and exacerbates her anxieties about the roles she chooses to fill. Instead, I like to think instead of Yosuke confronting her after the encounter, he catches her at the TV and they just talk for a bit about it. (the au is a vehicle for Yuiske after all lmaooo)

I think there are people with heavier Adachi brainrot than I ever will who can dissect this better than I. In the end, I think he's an excellent villian for P4, but I really am not a fan of the woobification Golden gave him LMAO.

#Anonymous #its a shame a lot of p4femc stuff is Adachi-centric and a lot of it exists to express and fetishize that power imbalance #NG+: But a Girl this Time

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evanchantingpeters · 1 year ago

Text

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 4)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ In the whirlwind Hollywood world, Evan and Y/N are flipping the script. With a filming delay for Evan’s Tron scenes, ten days become four tantalising months. Taking the leap, Evan proudly introduces Y/N as his girlfriend at the Emmy Awards. As they dazzle at the afterparty, they’re also plotting an escapade. Away from the flashing cameras of paps and the gossiping spectators, they’re stealing away to a secluded beach by the venue for a night of pleasure and fluids...

Warnings ─ Swearing, public sex, sex on the beach, oral (both receiving), vaginal fingering, overstimulation, bondage, mild BDSM, nipple teasing, spanking, dry humping, vaginal sex, woman on top, doggie, extra smutty (per usual, lol)

Read Part 1 here | Read Part 2 here | Read Part 3 here

Word count ─ 5.5K

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

You and Adria breeze into her bedroom like the dynamic duo of snack time, armed with a mega-sized bowl of popcorn, a killer cheese platter, and a tray of toasty beverages. Adria’s sporting that cheeky grin, like she’s about to drop the meme of the century, and you can’t help but giggle, knowing the night’s about to get lit.

As you step in, you’re met with a sight straight out of a Pinterest board. There’s this epic mound of duvets and pillows stacked up in the middle of the floor, like a cosy fort waiting to be conquered. And there they are, the squad – Val, Natasha, and Mirka – all huddled together, shuffling the cards like they’re running their own underground casino.

“Alright, girlies…gather up,” Adria hollers, flexing her sparkling engagement ring, and you both flop onto the comfy chaos, laughing. Before long, popcorn is flying like spring rain as you jump into the card game like you were born for this moment. You’re personally slinging drinks, channelling your inner barista at a hipster café, except these are mugs of hot cocoa and herbal tea, not fancy cocktails.

The room is buzzing with energy as the banter bounces back and forth like a ping-pong match, touching on varied topics—from eyebrow tweezers, acne, holiday destinations, and wedding flowers for Adria to immigrant visas, AI, wars, and recycling methods. Mirka’s laugh is loud enough to wake the dead, and Val’s one-liners are so on point they should come with a fire emoji. Natasha, meanwhile, is playing it cool, but you can practically see the competitive flames dancing behind those Insta-filtered eyes every time she slaps down a winning hand.

“Nash, why so quiet?” Mirka teases with a cheeky smile, giving Natasha a playful nudge.

Natasha lowers her head, her fingers bending and flicking nervously over a card. “I know we’re here to celebrate Ad and Tommy tying the knot since it’s only been a week—”

“No need to keep up the act if something’s bugging you, Nash. Speak up,” Adria urges, gently squeezing her friend’s hand.

Natasha lets out a heavy sigh. “About this depersonalisation…derealisation…you name it…thing I mentioned before,” she admits, her voice shaking.

Val stuffs a hefty handful of popcorn into her mouth before chiming in. “What about it?” she inquires nonchalantly.

“About feeling like someone’s cranking up the volume on your own existence,” Natasha mumbles, her gaze flitting anxiously around our circle. “Suddenly, every mundane, everyday sensation feels way too real—the scrape of the toothbrush bristles against your teeth, the movement of your tongue, the flare of your nostrils with each breath…even the blink of your eyes almost echoing in your ears.”

Adria’s eyebrows are drawn together as she rubs her temples and squints her eyes as if trying to wrap her head around the concept. “Your Latina is too stunned to speak with your Yapanese, Nash,” she quips at the confession, though she immediately reconsiders and hastily raises her hand in apology. “Sorry, I don’t know what got into me… Go on—it happened again?” she mutters, a hair tie dangling from her mouth as she wrestles her hair into a messy bun.

“Yea… today morning, actually,” Natasha is quick to respond hoarsely, her voice cracking. “It’s like you’re watching yourself do something, but it doesn’t feel like you, you know? It’s this out-of-body experience, and suddenly, bam! The curtain gets violently ripped back, exposing the raw, unfiltered reality of living, breathing, feeling every damn twist and turn.”

She pauses to draw a sharp breath before carrying on. “And then the ontological Wh- questions start flooding in, like, ‘What am I doing? Who am I, really? Why am I in this room, in this building, in this world, in this endless universe? Where will I go after I die?’ They crash into you like a cosmic truck—the idea of the soul being immortal and stretching on and on and on and on and on into eternity.”

You’re glued in, hanging onto every letter as your friend bares her soul, your gaze stuck to her. Your fingers running through her hair are soothing enough to serve as her lifeline in moments like this. “Sometimes, our minds pull serious pranks on us, Nash,” you begin, your voice laced with sage-like wisdom, “especially when anxiety, an existential crisis, or just some old trauma is thrown in the mix. It’s like a defence mechanism, trying to shield us from emotions that could totally wreck our sanity.”

Natasha blinks rapidly as she shrugs you away, still grappling to make sense of it all. “But why? It hits me outta nowhere…when I least expect it...like, when I’m just chilling…Not even my therapist can solve the riddle.”

You take a moment, as if you’re mulling it over and finding the right words to put it. “Mhm, think of it like a mental reboot,” you explain, your voice like a smooth jazz track as you give her arm comforting rubs. “Your brain’s like ‘Whoa, hold up!’ and creates this buffer zone, making you feel a bit detached and dissociated. It’s like hitting pause to recalibrate and protect itself.”

After a long pause, Natasha sniffles and rubs her eyes, then nods. “Alright, I’ll tuck that away in my brain’s little filing cabinet for now, no biggie. Enough of me cosplaying Courage the Cowardly Dog, freaking out over every little thing. Let’s chat about something else,” she urges, clapping her hands together before taking a giant gulp of hot chocolate and munching on a marshmallow, whipped cream all over her mouth.

Just as the vibe gets brighter, your phone lights up with a WhatsApp notification. You glance down to see a message from Evan, and your heart does a little marathon in your chest—ground breaking reaction, Y/N—as you open it. (Cue the dramatic music!) The text is concise and sweet, but it’s the attachment that sends your head spinning — a VIP invite to the Emmy Awards afterparty, followed by another cute message, reading:

I’d love to have you there with me🥰

Shock paralyses you as a tsunami of questions smashes you. Is he asking you to be his arm candy or is this just a friendly gesture?

Needing a breather to let it all sink in, you pull the classic “gotta use the restroom” move and sneak away to a quiet corner of the house. The phone feels like a brick in your hand as you summon the courage to call Evan, your heart doing backflips just at the thought.

And just like that, he picks up almost instantly. “Hey, Y/N? How’s your sleepover?” His velvety voice—a familiar anchor in the storm of your head—flows through the line with a tinge of concern.

You gulp down a shaky breath, trying to regulate the rapid fluttering you feel in your throat. “Uh, all good... I mean... What’s with the invite?” you blurt out, involuntarily scratching your head and scrunching your nose in confusion. Meanwhile, you pace in the room like a caged tiger.

“I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather have with me and is not a blood relation,” he replies confidently, his determination practically oozing through the phone.

His statement hits you like a stampede of elephants in your stomach, robbing you of words as he barrels ahead with more enthusiasm than a kid at Disneyland. “It’ll be a night to remember, I promise.”

As your nerves begin to ease and excitement creeps in, you can’t help but wonder about your role at the event. “Congrats on your nomination, but, uh, may I ask, what exactly am I doing there?” you spill out, rightfully so, trying to sound casual despite the tornado swirling in your mind. “I mean, we’re not exactly best buds like you’re with Jeff, for example.”

But Evan, ever the smooth talker, doesn’t miss a beat. “You’ll be my plus one, my girlfriend,” he utters, his voice soft but resolute, like he’s making a declaration. Your breath hitches in your throat at the word ‘girlfriend,’ your whole body going numb.

You’re biting your lip so hard you’re practically taste-testing them, fists clenched and excitedly pounding against your thigh like it’s a drum solo. Girlfriend? You? At the Emmys? It’s like a scene ripped straight out of a rom-com, and you’re half-convinced you’ve somehow stumbled into an alternate universe.

“Uh, Evan, you do realise this is gonna stir up a whole pot of drama, right?” you slur, your voice barely louder than a mouse’s squeak as you nervously fidget with the hem of your pyjamas. “I mean, your fans are gonna go full FBI on me, crafting voodoo dolls and whatnot out of envy for not picking them. And then, there’s the paparazzi… those guys will do anything for a saucy headline…”

“I totally get your mini freakout, baby, and we can hash it out tomorrow after your stayover…but seriously, why stress?” He’s quick to fire back and rationalise the situation. Despite your semi-meltdown, his voice is calm and steady like he’s discussing the weather. “Just because a bunch of people recognise me from movies or TV doesn’t mean I’ll be sneaking around in a trench coat and shades, dodging public outings with my lover. I’ll do what makes me happy, protecting my relationship along the way, and if that means bringing my girlfriend to an event, then so be it…” He pauses for a minute before adding, “and I want it to be it.”

His words hang in the air, and for a hot second, all you hear is the relentless thud of your heart. You’re not usually one to lose sleep over what others think about you, even your nearest and dearest friends (since the idea of family has been absent throughout your lifetime), but let’s be real, the Evan situation is completely uncharted waters.

Following another deep breath, you finally muster up a response that you’ve been meaning to let out since you got the texts (but your overanalysing would never). “I want it too, Evan.”

There’s a momentary hush, and you swear you can hear him doing a victory dance or something with the sound of rustling clothes in the background. Then, he lets out his signature throaty chuckle that always gets you on your knees. “Awesome! We’re gonna rock this. I’ll stick by your side, and we’ll handle this together, okay?”

You can’t help but grin at his reassurance, mindlessly twirling a lock of hair between your fingers like a schoolgirl, feeling a surge of excitement. “Yes, together. Honoured,” you reply as your heart keeps doing the happy shuffle.

You gotta pinch yourself just to be sure you’re not stuck in some kind of matrix with Evan these past four months. Turns out, his stay in America got extended from the initial ten days thanks to some miraculous schedule reshuffling, and he’ll be shooting his scenes for Tron in Canada later this year. So, more hangout time with him, more dates…and yeah, more fucking. In his head, and apparently in his parents’ minds too—who you’re meeting soon (send help)—you’re practically official.

And here you are now, cruising in the backseat all dolled up for the Emmys in your sparkling cocktail party dress. Evan’s looking smoking hot in his sharp tux and perfectly slick hair, making you feel like you need a paper bag to catch your breath. He’s holding onto your clammy hands like he’s afraid you’ll vanish into thin air (and frankly, you’re starting to believe it). He’s giving you these adorable little kisses like he knows that your lipstick’s gotta stay put.

And to top it all off, you’ve met his stunning and bubbly sister, Michelle, and her husband. Amidst your anxiety-induced brain freeze, and out of all the phrases you could come up with to greet her for the first time, “lady in red” is all you chant to compliment her elegant red gown. Internally screaming and embarrassed, you wish you could facepalm yourself out of this world. No, but why did she serve so bad?

But guess what? She’s a massive Chris De Burgh fan and his titular song, so it’s safe to say you hit the jackpot with your accidental ice-breaker. She’s practically your biggest cheerleader now, cheering you both on as she chauffeurs you to the venue. So wholesome, you can’t even cope with it!

The long car ride quickly morphs into a full-blown party on wheels, complete with blasting tunes and non-stop laughs. Evan’s hair has gotten hella wild lately, so he’s brought his gel along. You help him tame his mane while the chatter, mostly revolving around you, surprisingly chills you out big time. Evan keeps things snug, giving your hand a comforting squeeze or a peck on the forehead every now and then.

At some point, you throw the ball at their court, and the couple starts dishing out stories about themselves; how they met at some random house party, bonding over their affinity for 90s hip-hop. Before you know it, Michelle is diving into hilarious childhood tales about Evan and their brother, Andrew. Like that time Evan attempted to build a treehouse but ended up face-planting into a mud pit, or when they all suited up as superheroes and terrorised the neighbourhood. And of course, there’s Evan’s legendary Sour Patch Kids and PlayStation commercials, complete with their wild backstories.

It’s an absolute blast, and you’re soaking up every juicy detail. With Evan right by you, throwing in his own anecdotes (like the deer mounting tradition with his friends every Christmas in the suburbs, which throws everyone for a loop because not much happens in Missouri), the whole vibe is elevated. You can’t help but laugh and feel all warm and fuzzy inside, realising you’re not just meeting his family—you’re becoming a part of it.

“Feeling okay, baby girl?” Evan whispers, leaving a tender smooch on your neck, his lips like a feather along your needy skin.

You shiver at the touch, a jolt of electricity surging through you. Nodding, you try to wrangle the rave party inside you, but it’s like herding cats.

He rests his head on the seat, facing you, the plush cushion cradling his head in comfort. “You’re sooo beautiful and hot, Y/N,” he mouths, subtly shaking his head as if he can’t believe his luck. “I wish I could kiss and use my fingers on you the way I want,” he blabs quietly, leaning in closer, his face nestled in the crook of your neck.

“Jail time for both of us if you pull that move here…Security,” you giggle softly, and you feel him join you with his shoulders bouncing with laughter.

“I just want you to know how I feel right now, Y/N” he sighs, looking up at you again, his bottom lip rolling over his top one in his precious puppy-eyed pout.

“Evan crying in horny,” you tease in a sultry murmur, sneaking a glance up front to make sure the couple didn’t catch wind of your banter. With a sly grin, you adjust your strapless gown, adding a touch of allure to your playful attitude.

He shoots back with a playful finger-wag in your face, accompanied by a series of rapid “ts-ts-ts” sounds, as if he’s scolding you with his own audio of strong disapproval. “Evan crying in crazy about you,” he corrects, kissing your hand, his irresistibly handsome dark eyes peering into your soul from below.

Tell me you’re a die-hard, hopeless fangirl without telling me you’re a die-hard, hopeless fangirl. Despite Evan’s nudges, you choose to stealthily station in the corner, letting him slay the red carpet. It’s his night, his moment to shine, and you’re his hype woman.

With each flash of his charming smile—sometimes lowkey and tight-lipped, other times broad and toothy—you’re a flurry of activity, your phone’s storage maxing out with snapshots and videos faster than you can say “Blow Evan”. And when he pulls out that signature eye squint and eyebrow raise at the paparazzi’s obnoxious cues, you’re melting faster than ice cream in July.

His face card never freaking declines.

As you both waltz into the party ball, it’s like you’re attracting the night’s energy, twirling around you like a confetti vortex. Your shimmering dress catches the disco lights, transforming you into a walking glitter bomb. With just the right amount of makeup and your natural long hair cascading freely, you’re primed to own the dance floor.

You spot Niecy Nash, radiant in her black velvet off-the-shoulder gown, exuding vibes like she just won the lottery. Oh wait, she did—Supporting Actress in a Limited Series or TV Movie for Dahmer. She high-fives the four of you and fits you all into a hug tighter than a Victorian corset.

Evan introduces you to everyone from the Dahmer crew and other celebrities with the same wide grin, pride, and thrill of a kid who’s just aced a test. His hand remains glued to you throughout the night, caressing along your upper body and often inching towards your ass, as if he’s marking his territory. Possessive much? Yes, but you’re not complaining; you find it fascinating and such a turn-on, especially knowing how naturally affectionate and kind he is. You feel safe in his presence, your bodies are like magnets—drawn together by some transcendent gravitational pull. His grip is firm, but he looks at you with all the heart-eyed emojis in the world, fully smitten.

Poses? Oh, you all nail them like seasoned supermodels on the runway. It’s the typical hand-on-hip, the coy glance over the shoulder, and the patented “I just won an Emmy, bow down, peasants” pose—check, check, and check. And of course, there’s Evan with his props (pipe, avant-garde sunglasses, and black tie), covered in your lipstick marks as he’s photographed with you. The ladies, led by Jessica—Niecy’s wife—even bust out a new dance move right on the spot, celebrating Niecy’s win.

But it’s not just Niecy and Jessica stealing the spotlight tonight. You find yourself mingling with Pedro Pascal, who’s looking dapper as ever in his suit, and Kieran Culkin, who’s cracking jokes faster than the champagne is flowing. You’re laughing so hard, you almost forget you’re rubbing elbows with Hollywood royalty.

As the hours drift by like sand through an hourglass, Evan’s sister and her husband say their goodbyes, inviting you both over for dinner next week. Spotting the opportunity for a minute alone, you and Evan snag in a corner booth, swaying to the loud music beats with your earplugs, kissing in between giggles, clinking glasses, eyes locked, smiles broad.

Close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips, Evan nuzzles his nose against yours, his eyes burning into yours. His brows furrow in a silent plea, his chest swelling with anticipation as his hands delicately cup your face.

Before you can even form a coherent thought, he’s already sealing your lips with his, his tongue slowly sliding into your mouth with a hunger that leaves you breathless.

“Do you kn—?” you attempt to articulate, but he’s not having any of it; he’s a changed man in need to do unholy things with you. He silences you with another passionate kiss, a soft, desperate moan escaping his lips along the process.

“Evan,” you manage to murmur into his lips as he subtly sucks your bottom lip.

“Yes, baby,” he hushes, his lips curling into a coy smile as his grip tightens around you.

You loop your arms around his neck, tilting your head with a mischievous grin as you stare deep into his eyes. “I wanna UNO card reverse you.”

His eyebrow quirks up in amusement, his grin turning devilish. “UNO, what? Is this sexual? Subs, please,” he taunts, giving your butt cheeks a playful squeeze, totally unbothered by any nosy onlookers. In your defence, you’re not the only guests caught in a steamy make-out sesh at close vicinity, so why not have a little fun?

“My innocent, millennial baby,” you exclaim, squishing his adorable face with a giggle. “I’m saying, now that most of the press’ gone, how about we find a comfy spot by the beach where we can be alone?” you suggest, your voice dropping to a seductive whisper as you trace circles on his chest with your fingertips. “There, I’ll shower you with kisses,” you continue, and your wetness worsens as you imagine him fucking your mouth, “and finally, I’ll suck your dick until you’re gasping for air and bust in my mouth.”

His eyes darken with desire as you unravel your plan, a low groan slipping off his lips. “Sounds like heaven. Say no more.”

The distant thump of music and the soft glow of fairy lights fades as you and Evan bolt away from the bustling venue, his hand clasped firmly in yours as the adrenaline of the escape courses through your veins. With a shared glance and a mischievous grin, you dart through the shadows like a pair of rebels on the run, laughter fizzing up like a effervescent multivitamin.

Finally reaching the secluded shoreline, you both collapse onto the soft and warm sand — a delicious contrast to the cool breeze that envelops you like a fuzzy blanket. With a cheeky smile, you straddle his lap and sense him already rubbing his rock-hard boner against your pulsating cunt.

His hands find your hips, pulling you closer as he gazes up at you with smouldering intensity. With a low squeal, you lock eyes with him, teasingly licking his bottom lip before sensually sliding your tongue over his upper lip, his pupils following your every move.

With a hungry growl, he captures your lips in a sloppy kiss, his hands roaming over your body with a feverish, almost primal, urgency. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a seductive, almost angelic, silver sheen on the rippling water and his chiselled abs as you loosen his bow tie and unbutton his shirt.

He squeezes your thighs gently, eliciting a soft whimper from you as he begins to explore beneath the hem of your dress. His eyes are immediately drawn to your cleavage, and you feel his heart rate accelerating. You squirm underneath his touch as he starts to trace figure eights on your puffy clit, making it increasingly difficult to focus on stroking his stiff length.

His thumb brushes against the sensitive skin just above the edge of your panties, sending a tremor across your body. “Gosh, you smell so divine...like strawberries,” he huffs, his voice low and husky as he dips his tongue in your mouth, as if he’s planning to bottle your scent up and promote it as the official elixir of happiness. “As sweet as you fucking taste.”

His fingers slip beneath your panties, stroking your bare flesh with deliberate intent. “You’re already so wet for me. Can’t wait for your little pussy to take my cock?” You nod, and your mewls intensify barely muffled by his blazer as you press against his shoulder.

He grins, knowing very well that you’re struggling with your impending screams of pleasure. “Just thinking about how amazing it’s gonna feel when you fuck me,” you manage to coo, your voice thick with lust, and he lowers your strapless dress in a single move, his hands massaging your tits in no time and with expert skill. Meanwhile, he attacks your neck with open-mouthed kisses, his hot breath igniting a wildfire of sensations in you.

Your tits nestle on his chest — the feeling of his naked skin against your hardened nipples only worsens the pool between your thighs. Gathering your strength to strike back, your hand glides to the buckle of his belt, a wicked glint in your eye as you make your move. “But first, imagine my lips wrapped around your dick…” you breathe suggestively into his ear, trailing kisses down his collarbone.

He bobs his head to the side, his teeth clamping down on his bottom lip in a futile attempt to stifle his reactions as you gradually unzip his trousers to liberate the beast hidden behind the layers of fabric.

Just as you fumble around his bulge, your lips never leaving his, a flash of car headlights jolts you. “Evan, someone might catch us,” you gasp, panicking as you shrink into a ball on top of him, frantically adjusting your dress in any which way.

He shoots a quick glance over his shoulder, instinctively pulling you closer to him—his arms a sanctuary of safety. “Chances are slim to none of anyone finding us here, especially at this hour, but…” he trails off, scooping you up his arms in one swift motion. “I don’t want my girl feeling anxious,” he adds as he wades into the cool water, the waves licking gently at his calves. He leads you to a large rock, sheltered from any potential prying eyes.

Gently setting you down in the shallows, you both burst into laughter, splashing around like carefree youth, the water lapping at your skin like an affectionate caress. With each wave that rolls over your feet, the heat between you only escalates.

Pulling his head towards yours for a kiss, you hear him groan, and it instantly sends a shot of arousal through you. Palming and teasing his clothed, overstimulated crotch, you shove your tongue in his mouth, tangling with his and repeatedly sucking on its tip—soon turning the vanilla smooch into a heated, messy kiss that drives you both nuts.

Your mouth dances over the rapid pulse on his neck that’s pumping all the more quicker against your lips. “Someone seemed a tad jealous tonight,” your voice deep with desire yet your gaze holds an lustful mischief he can’t resist. You refrain from dropping any names, curious to see if he’ll take the bait.

“No, I wasn’t, Y/N. I’m not the controlling type of boyfriend who’s gonna stalk your every move like a creepo,” he defends with a furrow forming on his brow before his hands smooth over your ass and deliver a sharp yet affectionate smack. “I know you’re all mine, my girl… my dirty little slut when I want you to be,” the syllables come out strained like he’s on the brink of losing control.

Bingo—he falls right into your playful trap. You fix at him with an intense gaze, a triumphant grin already spreading across your face. “I never said it was you, poor, naïve baby of mine,” you chirp, puckering your lips as you punctuate each word with gentle, harmless slaps and pinches to his cheek.

He shoots you a glare when you burst out laughing, his lips pressed into a thin line. “Oh, you wanna play dirty, then? I’ll show you dirty, and you’ll be sorry,” he fights back. You feel his fingers sliding along your soaked slit, applying tantalising pressure on your sore clit.

Closing your eyes, you fight the urge to indulge in your orgasm, humming, “I won’t” as you nibble on his lower lip to tone down your little sobs of delight.

“Oh, yeah? You won’t?” he exclaims, and his touch becomes immediately rougher. His fingers plunge, twirl, and scissor in and out of you with increasing fervour. Your moans crescendo to a feverish pitch, drowning out his ragged breaths. You don’t even realise he’s muttering curses under his breath as he fingers you relentlessly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Evan,” you cry out the mantra as the familiar, tingly feeling at the pit of my stomach tips you over the edge of your high.

And just like that, he withdraws his fingers from your throbbing core. His gaze flickers downwards at his hand—now all drenched and glistening with your cum—as he cups your chin, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Take back what you just said,” he demands, his voice tinged with desire.

“I won’t. You robbed me of my orgasm,” your protest, arms crossed over your chest in mock offence.

Tilting his head, he gives you a goofy smile, his eyes focused on your mouth as his fingers trace your pouted lips.

A mischievous smirk curls up the corners of your lips as you take his thumb in your mouth, sucking it seductively. “But I have a big heart, so I forgive you,” you mutter, releasing his thumb with a tantalising pop before kneeling down in front of his bulge. Your lips glisten with the precum from his boxers as you eagerly wet them, ready for what’s to come.

Before he can even register your moves, his head drops, jaw slackening until all twenty-eight of his teeth are on full display in a crooked, pearly smile.

Your tongue glides down the length of his cock, taking him deeper until your lips are hugging snugly around the base. He can’t quite keep up with your fervent pace, his throat constricting as a chorus of desperate groans escape him. “F-fuckkk,” he stutters, his voice rising to a whimper, “Feels so good, baby. So goddamn good.”

His rosy lips can’t stop their blabbering, mind shrinking into a blissful void, where the only thing of significance is your talented mouth working its magic between his legs. As your tongue flicks and swirls, he buckles his legs out, his soft touch on your head tightening, fisting up your strands almost aggressively.

Your nails drag lightly down his thighs, your shoulders rising as you splutter around him, choking on the way he fills you whole while you deep-throat him.

“Got the prettiest eyes. So-so fucking gorgeous,” he rasps, gazing back down at you with a mix of awe and adoration, his pupils blown in a battling mess of love and lust as your eyes find him.

“D-don’t stop, please, please,” he gasps, a sudden thrust of his hips causing your teeth to slightly pierce against his sensitive flesh that keeps forcing itself down your throat.

Yet, his cries are cut short by a final, guttural moan that draws itself out long and conclusive. You watch as his body locks up and his Adam’s apple bounces like crazy, his muscles as solid as the rock he leans against.

His eyes glaze over all blank before they roll back, his long lashes casting a shadow against his flushed face. With your cheeks hollowed, you bob your head slowly, letting him plummet through the tides of euphoria.

The impulse to milk him dry of absolutely everything he has to give consumes you, but you rein it to get your revenge, so you stop. He stares down at you with eyes wide open, his breath uneven. You can’t decipher his expression as you stand back up and land mere inches from his face.

Although you’re at your full height, he still towers over you, and you swallow nervously when he scoffs.

“You think you can slide away with that one so easily, huh?” he mumbles in a low, stern tone, his breaths coming in wheezy puffs. Running a hand from your jaw down to your chest, he gropes your boobs, biting his lip as he does.

You rest over the edge of the rock, your smirk and raised brow are what you hope to be indicators of your ‘playing cool’ demeanour despite your misconduct.

“I might be head over heels for you,” he pauses, letting out a soft groan as his fingertips brush the slimy product of your arousal on the inside of your thigh.

You settle back onto the sandy surface of the water before the rock, murmuring, “Aham?” and biting your lip, your mocking gaze fixed on him.

“But…” he continues, halting only to clear his throat as if to regain his composure. “...it irks me when you blow me so damn well and then deny me the finish.”

“Awh… how dare I, baby Evan, right?” you scowl at him playfully, puckering your lips again in feigned shock. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

You feel his erection against your lower stomach as he stretches out over you to grab his floating bow tie. “I’m gonna edge you until you’re crying and begging me to let you cum. Easy peasy.”

“I’d never beg for you–” You don’t even get to complete your sentence, and his lips collide into yours in a raw, animalistic force that takes you by surprise. You already fold (Question is: when are you not folding for Evan Peters?), even knowing you’re just getting started.

“You were warned,” he retorts, his voice a deep, commanding growl. Each word carries a weighty timbre, as if it’s coming from the depths of his chest. He ties your wrists above your head, securing them to a small stone jutting from the main rock, leaving you completely at his mercy with no wriggle room.

His lips leave a blazing path of kisses over your cleavage down to your stomach, his hot breath tingling your skin. Spreading your legs, he hovers over you with a sly grin.

You feel his quivery breath on your inner thighs as he plants tender pecks and playful nips, teasingly close to your folds. Arching your back, your dripping pussy convulses in anticipation. He giggles at your reaction, his stare fixed on you. Without warning, his tongue starts lapping up your juices, and you squeal in pleasure.

He can’t help but groan at your taste, his cock twitching in his trousers as he shifts up, his mouth latching onto your clit, sucking and nibbling.

“Fuck!” you gasp, your hands threading into his hair. You hold his face between your legs, and you can practically sense his smirk against your flesh as electricity sparks through you.

When he starts whirling your clit with his tongue, his growls vibrating through your core, you lose your shit. You feel like coming right away as he stimulates your most sensitive spot, but he draws back. “Beg,” he commands through gritted teeth.

“Never,” you shoot back out of breath, and that’s when he dives in headfirst. His lips suck on your clit even harder while his tongue ruthlessly slides along your slit, leaving you crying out but not yet caving.

You clench your fists, nails digging into your palms, as you squirm under his touch. But he only tightens his grip on your thigh, devouring you like he’s famished.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he chuckles, momentarily backing away to catch his breath. His tongue then alternates between tracing patterns on your pulsing nub and flicking it with his tip. Your fingers scrape at his scalp as ecstasy builds higher and higher the faster he fucks into you.

He’s so invested in pleasuring you, his tongue twisting and twirling along your gummy, slopping walls. No one has ever volunteered to lick you up, let alone enjoy it themselves and make you see stars so effortlessly. You always had to ask for it like it’s a task, and all your pussy has only known is just some spit, a cursory touch down there just to moisture the area, and all in they went.

Evan’s nose lightly nuzzles against your clit as his tongue does wonders on your sobbing, red cunt, leaving your mind all foggy. You bite down on your hand to contain your moans, but they only get higher, and you accept your fate that you won’t last long.

Not wanting to let up, he merely grunts against you, sending seismic waves through your body that cause your pussy to pulsate around his mouth.

“Evan,” you choke out, tears streaming down your eyes from how amazing he makes you feel. You circle your hips against his face, whining when he pulls his tongue out of you but squealing when he slams two long fingers deep inside, hitting right at your g-spot.

“Say it,” he hisses against your swollen cunt, his eyes on you. Your hips jolt up, the water becoming all foamy as you splash around, thighs shaking as he licks and fingers you through your orgasm.

“Okay… ahh… okay, f-fuck…” you stammer. “Let me cum p-please… I…I… ahh… I need to please.”

And right there, when you feel drained of dignity, he jams his tongue back inside. He performs a swirling dance, coupled with clit-sucking, that makes you lose your mind, your legs growing wobbly.

“That’s my girl…” he coos. “So fucking pretty for me. Such pretty fucking sounds.”

Your earth-shattering orgasm hits you like an earthquake, and you cry out his name loudly. Your vision blurs as you fight for breath. You’re always so gorgeous when you come for him— splayed out on display, legs spread, pussy leaking, tits flowing as your chest heaves, body coated in a shimmering of sweat. The look of sheer pleasure in your darkened eyes is a sight he’ll never tire of.

He slows his tongue, gently blowing warm air on the sides of your vulva, easing you through the aftershocks of your release. It’s exactly what you need right now to calm down, to be honest. He slips his fingers out of you, bringing them up to his lips, a greedy look in your eyes as you watch him suck his fingers clean. He nearly makes a show of it, groaning before letting them pop from his mouth.

“I was so right about the sweet taste,” he praises, “almost wondering what I should do with you next.” He smirks crookedly at the way you instantly pout, letting out a soft whine, “what, baby?”

“Need you,” you sigh, smiling lazily at him.

“Yeah?” his hand comes back between your legs, palming at your throbbing cunt. “Need what? My fingers again?” His index delves back in, but only for one thrust, your pussy fluttering around his finger as it stretches you out, “My mouth? Or something else?”

“Your cock, please!”

He chuckles, reaching up to free you from the confines of his bow tie. You react instantly and lash out at him, plunging deeper into the water, the world above suddenly muted and serene. Underwater, you open your eyes, catching a blurry glimpse of Evan’s sly grin before he propels himself towards you with strong, graceful strokes.

You feel a gush of enthusiasm as he grabs you from the waist, drawing you close. The warmth of his body goes against the cool water, sending a tremor down your spine. With a quick, smooth motion, Evan leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate sub-aquatic kiss.

The sensation is electric. Surrounded by a bubble ring, your bodies entwine as you lose yourselves in each other, the salty water mingling with the sweet heat of the kiss. His hands explore your back, touching the curves of your body in well-executed strokes that make your heart go into override.

You both swim to the surface, gasping for air but not letting go of each other. The crispy evening air clashes sharply with your heated bodies. He breaks the kiss, a teasing spark in his eyes. “So, you accept defeat?” he murmurs huskily, wiping droplets from your plump lips with a mischievous smile.

You giggle, playfully pushing him back with a splash but maintaining the hold you have on him. “Never,” you reply, eyes daring him. He responds with a deep, hearty laugh that rumbles through you before he dives back underwater.

Emerging right in front you with a wide grin, he kisses you harder, hands framing your face, his tongue dancing with yours in a fiery connection. His fingers trace your jawline before tangling in your hair, gently tugging you closer. Your pulse races, and every nerve in your body seems to come alive with his touch.

“Okay, maybe I’ll accept a little defeat on one condition…” you hesitate, smiling bashfully as you run your hands through his hair.

Reciprocating the smile, he sweeps a wet strand of hair away from your face. “What is it? What do you need?" he asks, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Tell me, Y/N...I know you want it. Don’t be shy.”

You give him another playful nudge, rolling your eyes. “My condition’s that you go full force tonight, and fuck me hard.”

His eye pupils dilate with desire, a crooked smirk forming. “Oh, rest assured I plan to,” he affirms, his voice dripping with anticipation. “Consider it a done deal my dear,” he adds, sealing the “agreement” with one last, lingering kiss.

As you both stroll back to the place Evan recently rented near the venue, the salty night swim still clings on your skin. Your laughter mingles with the gentle chirping of crickets in the distance. Semi-damp from the ocean, the night breeze brings goosebumps.

Evan’s hand is warm and reassuring as he guides you inside. The place is spacious and welcoming, dimly lit with soft, ambient lighting that casts a romantic haze over everything. The furniture is arranged for comfort and intimacy—plush cushions adorn a deep sofa, inviting you to sink in. A rich throw blanket adds warmth. Nearby, a rustic coffee table holds curios and books, complementing the room’s cosy feel.

Tasteful artwork and subtle floral arrangements enhance the tranquil atmosphere, making it the perfect backdrop for a night of both erotic intimacy for cuddles or foreplay and the we-fuck-like-rabbits kind of sex.

He locks the door behind you, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “You’re still dripping,” he teases, wiggling his brows with a mischievous grin even though he can clearly tell you’re almost dry.

“I think we should get out of these soaked clothes before we catch a cold,” he advises, tossing the keys in a bowl and peeling off his black blazer. “Then, it’s straight upstairs, hopping into the bed together. Instead of a tea and a blanket, how about we turn up the heat by banging till the crack of dawn?”

Your laughter fills the hallway at his suggestion as you unzip your gown, deliberately pausing halfway to glance back at him cheekily, your clutch bag still in your hands. He’s practically drooling like a cartoon dog, eyeing you. “Yeah, no kidding,” you quip, flashing him a wicked grin.

His gaze follows your every move, drinking in the sight of you, a coy smirk playing on his lips as he rolls up his shirt sleeves. You hold his gaze, daring him to look as you indulge in an impromptu striptease, each movement more sensual than the last.

He draws closer, his belt hanging loose, his shirt already halfway undone, showcasing the taut muscles of his chest. “Let me give you a hand,” he mumbles, deftly gliding the zipper down the curve of your ass.

His fingers travel along your lower back and hipbones, guiding you to turn and face him. Pulling you closer, he plants a trail of kisses from your collarbone to the gentle swell of your breasts.

“You’re not playing fair,” you whisper, your voice low and teasing. “But I love it.”

“Fair is boring and overrated,” he retorts with a smirk, and your breath hitches as his robust hands cup your bare tits, his tongue assaulting your mouth in ways that soak your panties. His hands roam over your body, tracing every contour as if memorising your shape and texture.

The air is charged, dense with unspoken desires. “Y/N,” his lips brush against yours, his hot and laboured breath fanning your face. He hoists you up onto a nearby surface, his bulge pressing against your heat. “I want all of you so badly, I’m not gonna get you pregnant,” he vows, and you both giggle.

For context, you’ve mutually been dealing with some serious baby fever lately and already had the talk—hence the inside joke lightening the mood.

His eyes lock onto yours as he helps you out of your gown, letting it pool at your feet before landing on the floor. He swallows hard at the sight of you in just your underwear. Holding his stare, his tongue gets all tangled with yours, his fingers shifting to stroke the hard nub of your clit. Broken sobs escape your mouth as your hips start to move in sync with the onslaught of his hand, turning you into a writhing, mewling mess.

Just as you feel yourself slipping off the furniture, Evan quickly and safely moves you both to a nearby kitchen chair, positioning you on top of him. Taking control, you roughen the kiss, fully removing his shirt and rubbing your wet centre against his overstimulated, erected member.

In this moment, time stands still, and you lose yourself in the intoxicating bliss of each other’s presence. It’s not just physical; it’s a meeting of minds, a fusion of hearts.

He grips your hips, matching your grinding rhythm as you feel him harden and twitch beneath you.

“Fuck you’ve got me all wrapped around your little finger,” he growls, his cock almost weeping against your cunt, begging to be paid attention to.

Suddenly, his phone springs to life on the hallway, buzzing insistently, its screen lighting up like a beacon of disruption in the dim room.

“Leave it,” he groans against your neck, evidently prioritising pleasure over duty. The sound is jarring, opposing the tender whispers and the heated panting that filled the space just moments before.

“Take it, Evan. It might be an emergency,” you prompt, climbing off him while his hands linger on your butt.

With an exasperated huff, he rolls his eyes as you reach for the device. “It’s my mum,” he grumbles. His thumb hovers over the screen for a moment as if debating whether to answer or decline.

“Just take it,” you persist, and he clicks his tongue, picking it up with a heavy sigh.

“Hey, mum?”

With a playful peck, signalling your intention to slip away, you mouth, “Give my regards.”

He smirks slyly and gives your ass a playful smack before you gracefully slither toward the staircase. He watches you ascend with a bitten lip, torn between you and the conversation, only half-listening to his mom. As you reach the midpoint of the stairs, you pause to remove your panties, flicking towards him with a swift flourish.

With reflexes rivalling those of a wild animal, he snatches them mid-air, his gaze never wavering from yours. Bringing the panties to his nose, he inhales your essence encapsulated within the fabric, a fond smile gracing his lips. Pretending as if you’re no longer around, he theatrically sneaks the underwear in his pocket, giving you a playful wink at the end of his act to reveal his true intentions.

“Yes, mum, the ceremony was spectacular,” he reports, his voice strained with distraction. “No, I didn’t win this time around, but it’s all good. No hard feelings. It was nice to hang out with Michelle and others at the party.”

A brief pause ensues before he adds, “Yeah, Y/N is here with me, says hi. Yes, mum...if you need to be sure of, it’s that I’m taking very good care of Y/N… We’re going to Michelle’s next Thursday for dinner…” His eyes stay locked on you as you reach the top of the stairs, his focus still divided.

You disappear into the bedroom, just as inviting, with a large, plush king-sized bed draped in soft linens. You leave the door slightly ajar and sprawl on the centre of the bed. You hear him carrying over the conversation, clearly flustered. “Soon. We’ll come round soon. Gotta go, mum, but we’ll catch up more tomorrow, okay? I’ll phone you. Kisses to dad and Andrew. Love you all.”

He ends the call hastily, tossing the phone aside, and practically flies up the stairs to join you. Eagerness and passion are written all over his face when he bursts into the room. “Couldn’t wait another sec–” he stops mid-sentence when he catches you right in action, dipping two fingers into your slick folds, mouth agape.

With his blazer and shirt back on probably to facetime his mum, he gulps hard and folds his arms across his chest, leaning against the door frame to admire you. You prop yourself on your elbows, knees bent and facing up as you gather your arousal and bring it up to your clit, swirling it in small, intricate circles.

“That should be my dick doing this to you, baby girl,” he protests, his brows knitted together, his tone rigid yet painted with passion. His expression softens to a hushed murmur when he observes you throw your head back, lips slightly parted in a seductive invite, softly whining his name as you continue to touch yourself.

As if in a trance, he kneels at the edge of the bed, chucking his blazer and shirt away. Crawling up towards you, he peppers tender kisses along your throbbing pussy, making you giggle in delight.

“Then, show me what your dick can do to me,” you challenge with a coy smirk, moaning softly as he licks his way up your lips for a harsh, heated kiss.

He groans, his forehead resting against yours, his breath heavy and ragged. “God, Y/N, you have no idea what you do to me,” he rasps, his voice thick with need.

He floats deep between your open legs, and you help him shuck his trousers off without breaking the kiss. His hand wraps around his cock as you hungrily fondle his muscular upper body, his thumb smearing the pre-cum around it as he lets out a soft grunt, “Fuck… you always get me so hard,” he sighs, his tip sliding along your slippery folds, coating it with your juices.

“Evan…please,” you moan, your hips desperately rocking in tune with his rhythm.

“Please what?” He beckons to you with a tilt of his chin and arches a brow in your direction as he slides a condom along his member. He continues his torturous movement, eliciting louder your whimpers from you.

“I want it.”

His devilish grin expands all over his face as he looks down on you. “Use your words, baby girl,” he urges as his tongue grazes his side teeth, his lustful eyes narrowing.

“Please, fuck me!”

“That’s what I wanna hear, baby.” He leans over you again, capturing your thirsty lips in a kiss as he lines up his hips. Satisfied moans slip off you both as his cock sinks into your heat. He fills your warmth completely until his hips are seated against yours, and you can both feel your pussy clenching around him.

“Stay in me for life,” you chuckle breathlessly, and nods eagerly, his hand holding your wrists over your head while pounding in and out with breathy groans.

Your legs eagerly wrap around his waist, pushing him deeper into you, and he makes a home in the edge of your lips, his breath searing on your skin as he starts panting. He sets a steady, agonising pace— just fast enough to have you shivering and mewling in his arms but still slow enough to savour every bit of it; to make sure you’re sensing every inch and drag of his thick dick buried in your cunt, to get it wetter with each thrust of his hips.

As you synchronise your tongue sucking with the way he slams into you, he can’t help but moan loud into your mouth, and your stomach flips. He bucks reflexly, and you begin to move up and down his satiny shaft.

“Let me ride you, baby Evan,” you sigh with begging eyes and taunt him by pulling out momentarily to slick his head with your cum.

He clasps onto your hips again and lifts you up. That’s to slide his cock in and join your lips together once more before you get on top. You gasp, clutching the broad, sturdy expanse of his shoulders, anchoring yourself to him.

You begin to bounce on his cock, throwing your head back as he marvels at your breasts, your nipples hard from excitement and titillation. “Boobs for days, I’m the luckiest guy alive,” he cries out, grinning and biting down his lips as he grabs your tits in each hand, kneading the sensitive mounds.

He then levers his torso up so your breasts can jiggle against his chest, his hands behind supporting you on the small of your back. The squelching noises of you pussy mixed with your mutual moans echo through the room, and every time he drives his cock deeper into it, you feel new sensations, your entire body starting to shake in pure euphoria.

“Holy shit, you ride my cock like my little naughty slut,” he praises as his dick drills into you again and again.

“O-o-nly for you,” you stutter as you plop down on top of him with shallow groans. He smirks knowingly at you, his eyes drowning into yours. Running his fingers across your parted lips, he lets his hand and eyes glide along your upper half. With a hungry growl as if he can’t take it anymore, his hips begin to bounce into the air, making you lightheaded as he snaps into you even harder and faster.

“Don’t cum for your baby Evan just yet,” he pleads as he grabs onto your breasts again, circling his thumb and pointer finger around your erect nipples.

He releases your boobs and moves downwards to grab your thighs, using the leverage to flip you around so you’re on all fours. His hands rest lustfully between your neck and jaw as you look up at him with imploring eyes.

He clutches the back of your head, and your lips collide into a sloppy kiss before he stretches you out again with his impressive length. From that angle, your cunt eats up his cock hungrily as he soon begins to strike your cervix. You feel his cock jump inside you and his body jerks, his balls continuously slapping against your clit.

Your wailing sounds resonate in the room, his grip hardening on your hips and neck, and you know he’ll leave bruises but you couldn’t care less. You’ve never been fucked like this before, and you you’re now addicted. He works hard, drilling into you, until you feel the knot of your release stiffening.

Your legs quiver more as your orgasm rips and shudders through you with newfound potency, heightened by Evan unrelenting thrusts into you at his usual harsh pace.

Tears of overstimulation prickle your eyes until his hips finally still, and he spills his warm, fresh load onto you you with a primal growl. Collapsing lightly onto your back, he affectionately hugs you from behind, peppering soft kisses at the back of your neck with heaving gasps.

Your legs continue to shake as you tightly grip his forearm, your cunt spasming around his cock from the aftershocks of your multiple orgasms.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

“Perfect.” you exhale, smiling faintly, stealing another soft kiss.

The rest of the world fades away, leaving nothing but the two of you, lost in the outcome of pure passion.

You jump from the bathroom and flick off the light switch, the sound of the flushing toilet subsiding in the background. You stride across the dark room, vigorously shaking your hands dry. The moon’s silvery radiance seeps through the window and bathes your naked body, casting attractive shadows on your slender figure.

You stop by the bedside table and take a few sips of water. Lying in bed, a sheet draped around his lower body and exposing his sculpted chest, Evan spies your every move. In one fluid motion, he sits up with a coy grin on his lips, his gaze always following you.

“You scrubbed every last bit of me in the bathroom, huh?” he mocks with a thumbs up, his lips curling into a crooked smile.

You glance back at him with a smirk, your hair flipping in the air with grace. “Didn’t you take off the condom and splatter all over my thighs? Well, I had to clean your babies off me and pee to avoid a UTI. It’s post-sex 101, didn’t you learn that in school, Mr. Know-It-All?” you fire back with a raised eyebrow.

He chuckles, unable to resist his eyes wandering over you, appreciating your beauty. “I barely remember my name when I’m with you.”

You tiptoe your way to him, playfully sweeping the blankets and cushions that now clutter the floor. As you climb up the bed, a mischievous grin adorns your face. With your eyes locked on him, you begin to crawl like a lioness, closing the distance between you with allure.

His breath hitches as he watches you slither closer to him. Smiling mischievously, his eyes light up with a mixture of anticipation and passion.

He pretends to ponder over something, scratching his newly shaven chin, his eyes squinting in a mock display of deep thought. “Hmm, that’s a tough one. Give me a hint...like the initial?”

Your eyes widen in theatrical surprise, your mouth resting slightly ajar as you feign mock-offence. You nudge his shoulder away, gently sending him tumbling him back in bed.

You lie next to him, your eyes fixed on each other. You slide your hand down and playfully squeeze his knuckles together until he winces in slight discomfort. “Does it ring any bells now?” you insist and exert a bit more pressure.

Evan, caught off guard, finally gives in. “Y/N! Y/N! Your name’s Y/N!” he cries out and instinctively grips your wrist in defence, your bracelet subtly clinking.

He takes hold of your other wrist and playfully immobilises you on one of the pillows, sliding on top of you with ease.

You squeak in delight, a giggle rippling off your mouth. “You’re not just awesome, you’re practically a one-woman army,” he chuckles out with a wide grin, unable to look away from you.

As you stare at each other intently, the erratic tempo of your heartbeats fills the silence. “I love you,” he murmurs out of the blue, his eyes swimming into yours.

Wheezing quietly, your eyes instinctively widen in shock at the three words that hang in the air between them. For a moment, the entire universe seems to stand still, suspended in the gravity of his confession. You feel a rush of emotions flood through you—joy, disbelief, and a profound sense of warmth that flushes your cheek.

“I... I love you too,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. A tremulous smile spreads across your lips, tears glistening in your eyes as he closes the distance between you in a heartbeat.

Without reluctance, you surrender, pouring all the love and tenderness you feel into the kiss.

“Y/N... Tron shoot’s kicking off again soon. Would you come to Canada with me?”

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Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling

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